Ninth Interlude - The Battle of Ulgotha

The alarm bells of Keystone's Comfort rang out through the pre-dawn air. A pair of yellow lanterns hung side-by-side in the signal towers, beneath a single red one. The signal was clear: the Palosians are coming by water.

Upstream, framed by the rising sun, dozens of masts were visible, moving quickly down the Magginoth River. A blue-and-white pennant flew from each; the Palosian flag. The fast, agile Corsairs cut through the front of the fleet, with the larger Battleships behind. A discerning eye could even pick out a handful of the dreaded Totem Ships, semi-sentient vessels with unparalleled magical ordinance. A Totem Ship could sink anything short of a Dreadnaught in a one-on-one battle without taking a hit. The combined fleet was enormous--possibly enough to take Ulgotha.

Sardipan riders departed from the guardhouses, shouting the news to the city.

"To arm! To arms! The Palosians are coming! To arms!"

Ulgotha's marine defenders roared to life--a pair of Ironclads and Dreadnaught stoked their engines and pulled free of their moorings. Any hope they might have had was dashed as an enormous fireball leapt from the lead Totem Ship and burned out the docks around a third Ironclad. The second and third Dreadnaughts managed to clear their docks, but the defenders were aware that even with the last ironclad they were sorely outmatched. The Ironclads were more durable than the Palosian Corsairs, but the extra armor was unlikely to be helpful against the sheer numbers they faced. Likewise, the Dreadnaught's powerful cannons would be likely to sink a few Battleships, but would be nearly worthless against the magically shielded Totem Ships.

On land, the Sardipan Army and Imperator's Militia mobilized. As cannonballs flew from the Sardipans ships and cannonshot returned with fire and lightning from the Palosians, the soldiers on the shore loaded flint-lock rifles and prepared artillery. One of the Sardipan Ironclads was hit by a solid bolt of force and began to sink; in response, a rocket launched from the shore struck the main deck of one of the Palosian Battleships and set it ablaze.

Jacob Kilburn raised to the roof of his apartment building in the Middle Barrens to see the harbor battle in greater detail. As he watched, the waters behind the Dreadnaughts began to churn and crackled with magical energy. Suddenly, the waters parted as a creature the size of a several city block erupted from the river.

"A Leviathan." Kilburn whispered in awe.

The massive wurm cleared the water and opened its tooth-encrusted mouth. A fireball hurled forth and engulfed one of the Dreadnaughts. The ship was heavily armored, but wasn't airtight, meaning most of the crew was burned alive in a matter of seconds. The ship drifted forward as its engines used up what fuel remained, careening into the docks and nearly running ashore. The Leviathan's open jaws landed on the remaining ironclad and shattered it. The waves generated by its landing sent a Dreadnaught and two Corsairs crashing into the dockside. The Leviathan seemed to vanish after hitting the water.

The lone Dreadnaught stabilized on the open water, facing down eight Corsairs, four Battleships, and all three Totem Ships. Only now could Kilburn see past the warships to the troop transports behind them. There were at least eight, and they had begun to land. The Totem Ships were bombarding the docks with chain lightning, making sure the troops would have a safe landing. Ulgotha maintained a strong military presence, but this was a full scale invasion and the defenders were left unprepared.

Kilburn took a deep breath. Ulgotha had no chance. No chance except one.

"Reaper of Souls! If you can hear me, now is the time!" Kilburn yelled to the rooftop.

A familiar shadow swept across Kilburn, ending in two three-lobed wings. "Ready to negotiate, are we?"

Kilburn turned. The Reaper of Souls stood on the peek of the roof, framed by the sun. "Okay, I want all of it. Eternal youth, the regeneration thing, but you have to up the ante."

"How so?"

Kilburn pointed to the docks, where the last Dreadnaught was being pummeled with Palosian cannonfire. "We can't hold them. The city will fall something isn't done. I want you to save Ulgotha."

"And you will build the constructs I desire?" pressed the demon.

Kilburn took another deep breath. This was it, do or die. "Yes."

"Excellent. Sign." A contract was passed to Kilburn. "Place your hand on bottom portion."

Kilburn glanced over it, but could barely make out the writing. Every second he wasted, more people were dying. Kilburn pressed his palm on the bottom of the paper. A white hot bolt of pain shot across his hand and he dropped the paper. The Reaper of Souls snatched it back before it hit the ground. As he did so, Kilburn felt as though a weight had been lifted from him. Upon examining his hand, Kilburn found it unharmed.

The Reaper of Souls held up the contract, now emblazoned with Kilburn's handprint. "The pact is sealed. I will deliver."

Suddenly, the sky grew dark. Kilburn heard a high pitch screeching sound, then another, and another.

The first meteor took out a clock tower down the road. The next cascaded into the water of the Magginoth, barely missing the Dreadnaught. More and more meteors fell from the sky, pummeling every surface within a mile of the docks, falling in greater and greater numbers.

When it ended, Kilburn felt thick fingers squeeze across his shoulders. "We will gather you some laborers, and we will go." said the Reaper of Souls.

An hour later, Jacob Kilburn flew away from Ulgotha on the wings of demon, looking down on the perfect circle of destruction the Reaper's meteor shower had left on the center of the city. The Palosian fleet had been devastated, but everything from the Imperator's Stronghold to the Bridge of Sighs had been wiped off the map.