It had been quite a long time since Moliira had set foot in these lands of ice and snow, but it was still familiar to her.  While the Hiadref eyed her warily, the ice elves knew that the drow was here to help.  But they still expected treachery of her.  It was something she had grown accustomed to.  And they had other concerns.  The Rafandi were moving around the city, distributing their arrows tipped with bone to the Hiadref archers, while the ice elves were sharing their furs and carved bone rings to the nomads.  Moliira was quite glad to see the cooperation, and she gladly accepted a quiverful of arrows from a passing tribesman.

Barricades had been set up outside the reis fields to slow the assault of the goblins and orcs, and Moliira headed there once she was suitably armed.  The waves had been coming in small groups, but more frequently over the last few days.  And now they were coming in mixed groups, swarms of goblins supported by orcs bearing bows.  They always came straight for the barriers, never changing their tactics.  It made them much easier to kill.

But there was something different about this wave.  The orcs were shouting orders of some kind, harsh to Moliira's ears.  And the goblins were splitting into three groups, seeming to probe for weaknesses.  It was the job of the archers to stop them.  She glanced at the man beside her, an archer from Ataiyo from the looks of him.  No words were needed, they only nodded at each other and fired in tandem.  Goblins started to fall, but Moliira had her eyes on the orcs further in the back, shouting orders.  Her blades were thirsty.

As soon as Tacitus Silanus heard about the things that were happening in the infamous Ice Island, the general knew he should take part of it. Orcs and frost goblins, working togheter and invading a somewhat rich city, worldwide famous for it´s trade? Why not? Why shouldn´t he help those "Rafandi"? Perhaps, after they see how the might of his legionaries crushes those looters with ease, they could share a part of their fortune with the Fratians. If they turned out to be the typical ungrateful little elves he had met before, maybe they´d accept to be trade partners with his nation, something that would be profitable too.

Obviously, Silanus could not bring the whole legion with him, since he had to leave most of his soldiers guarding the streets, roads and borders, so the general brought 70 soldiers, something that seemed more than enough in order to crush this raiding parties. With an army of 10 pikemen, 30 spearmen (20 of them were human, the rest were allied orcs from the Steppes) 20 skirmishers (10 of them were human archers, the other 10 were cave goblin slingers), 10 heavy infantry swordmen and 10 support people, the small detachment of the Fratian army was gladly accepted by the Rafandi.

Sadly, the soldiers could not use their typical battle formations, since they had to stay behind the barricades and the gates. Instead, Silanus ordered his 20 skirmishers to provide support in the walls with the other archers, and ordered the infantrymen to stay behind the walls, hidden. If anything went wrong and for some reason the enemy entered, they would meet this letal spear wall. Silanus was with his 11 most strongest soldiers, the dreadful heavy swordmen. They were behind the spearmen and pikemen, so the spear wall would not be disrupted. The Fratian legionaries could finally taste some battle, after all these days!

When the war known as the Wings of Winter broke out on the southern isle of Itjivut, I had already arrived on the island to vacation in its winter wonderland. My camp had been set about half a kilometer north of the primary battle a week before it occurred, and was completely bypassed by the main orc army thanks to the camouflage efforts I employed. To the naked eye, the entire camp was invisible against the wasteland's snowy backdrop, and so none thought twice about the occasional changes in the snow around their camps. In fact, not even the elves realized I was up there, so my presence was completely undetected up until the main clash.
 
Unlike normal people, however, I didn't capitalize on my predicament in order to flee when I finally felt the earth trembling under non-human foot. Instead, I dressed myself in a cloak and overcoat as white as the surrounding snow and then ventured further south until I had a distant view of the battlefield. Normal vision was not enough to make out anything but shapes from that distance, and only shapes that did not blend in with the landscape. With the magnification of Toirneach's spyglass, of course, that issue was not a problem for me. After lying down prone in the snow with the collar of cloak covering my mouth, I was easily able to discern specific figures among the ongoing skirmish.
  
Through that miniscule lens, I spotted two individuals that I recognized from my initial time in Revaliir: Silanus and Moliira. Neither one of them had really garnered enough of my interest in my first visit for me to press further inland, but seeing them was still good. It allowed me to get a grasp of the powers protecting the elves and their wealth, even that goal wasn't that impressive to me.  Their presence made the opportunity cost of attacking their army too great regardless of their intentions, of course, so I moved my lens away from their side and to the visitors.
 
That was when I noticed just how outnumbered the home team was this time around. Those goblins and orcs who had pledged themselves to Gifre were staggering their advance to lure their opponents to complacency, so their true numbers weren't yet visible. Their initial attack was simply a spearhead to distract from the incoming flank, and there was an orc larger than the rest gesturing near the middle of that spear point. He was probably giving orders to the effect of the strategy I had discerned, and was also one of the commander orc that Moliira was eying from the barricades: soon to be a dead orc.
 
One may wonder why I decided to kill that orc with a magical arrow attack from Toirneach, but I assure you that it had nothing to do with wanting to help the elves. I knew there were no heroes or glory in this conflict long before I inserted my beeswax earplugs.  The Hiafae were just out to protect their ill-gotten gains and had long been cruel masters to the land of Itjivut. Sylvia's comments the other day confirmed that belief of mine, and she had also condemned the orcs in the same breath. The only difference between the two armies, in this case, was in number and power. Therefore, and with a need for target practice, I chose the more numerous of the two armies to harm.
 
So Toirneach's cry rang out. The commanding orc who was shouting orders one second was missing his head the next. The force of the arrow's impact was so great that it removed his skull from his shoulders in an instant, sending the rest of his body flying immediately afterward. An echo resembling rolling thunder came from the northern hills following the gruesome scene, but no one could pinpoint the source even as they looked in my direction. The sound was too dispersed, and I was too well camouflaged. I was secure enough in my position, in fact, that I was able to summon a glass filled with an aromatic rose wine without fear of immediate counterattack.
 
Briefly removing my wind mask to take a sip from that glass, I knew the chance of retribution was slim. The logistical cost of searching for and finding a lone sniper in the hills would be too extreme for any actively engaged army. Any attempt on the part of the orcs to divert forces would leave their flank wide open to a counterattack from Silanus, Moliira and their accompanying armies. Their casualties would skyrocket in a catastrophic bungle.
 
Of course, the full effect of my assassination would take a while to reach clarity. It was certain to include a hit to the invaders' moral, because, after all, there's nothing more terrifying than realizing that something invisible is hunting you down from afar. But what else? For now, I was content to consider myself the predator and the orcs my prey.

She hadn’t planned on getting involved initially. War wasn’t her thing and it better suited either of her brothers and blood sister than it ever had for her. But Paige would find herself involved in this once she heard that someone of her sister’s appearance had been spotted there. It simply couldn’t be true- she had watched Misty perish and had watch her casket lower into the earth. But now she was somehow in Itjivut, in the middle of a damn battle? While her mind and reason told her that it couldn’t be true, her heart felt something much different and before she knew it, she was on a boat heading towards the isle. It was a faint whim but one that she couldn’t simply ignore.

War wasn’t her forte, despite it being synonymous with the family name but she wasn’t completely as docile as she had once been. She was stronger now, and only going stronger the more her research and practice went on. Blue orbs danced about the scenery of ice and snow as she glided through the city. Her owl had flew up ahead to get a better view, seeing it could spot anyone out of the ordinary here so that she could seek them out. They could be her sister or someone that may have spotted her. If anything else, she could have reassured herself of her sister’s ill gotten fate was true and that coming here was nothing more than a feeble attempt to go against reality. Regardless, she had prepared herself in case she got in trouble- she was clad in dark studded armor, concealed in a thick furred cloak. Magic was her calling but she had a Tanto sheath from sight just in case. It was better to be prepared than sorry, especially after everything she had went through.

Coming to the gate that ventured outside the city’s walls, she peeked up to see Vanelle descending to her and landed on her shoulder. Stroking at her head a couple of times, Paige kept on going as she could hear the battle raging. Elven archers were spotted valiantly shooting a barrage of arrows that rained onto the orcs and goblins and them counterattacking. Those things weren’t to come to the wall lest the citizens would be in deep trouble. Sending her comrade away, her form materialized into the shadows and swiftly moved to the archers and defenders resided. From there she could get a better view of the situation overhead, the opposition looked numerous in comparison to the few that fought against the invaders. Still, she felt that if they could repel them enough then they would be victorious. A familiar scent hit her nose and she looked about to see what had stirred her senses but her attention shifted to the problem at hand as she could see the goblins on they way. Already they were met with human warriors, those that seemed to be foreigners and not the nomad tribes that littered the isle. They seemed more organized and fitted for warfare on the mainland by their garbs and weapons. For now she was content with speculating the sight instead of freely participating, though something was bizarre- the enemy was being picked off but not by arrow or sword. She couldn’t see what was going on and it seemed like they couldn’t either, which caused for confusion and didn’t help their cause. She hoped that the person she believed was here wasn’t in that crossfire, but then the elder Wintercrest daughter held her head and shook it, trying to convince herself that the whim was simply that- a false wish that drove her to somehow believe that Misty was still alive. Snapping back into reality, her face twisted slightly in disgust before she summoned several ethereal blades that hovered and danced around her before with a snap of her fingers, they darted at high speeds over towards the goblins closest to them. She stared out at them before another wave of her spell was summoned and sent scattering about, aiming to maim as many as she could.

While the walls were not terribly high, Moliira could tell they had been built with warfare in mind.  They were tall enough to get a good view of the tundra, perhaps fifteen feet in height, and ten wide, offering plenty of room for the defenders to cast spells, fire arrows, and possibly even use small siege weapons.  That was good.  And Moliira soon got her answer.  A small group of Hiadref elves were casting in synchronized motions.  Icy spikes quickly grew from the ground, making the goblins slow down, forcing them to alter their path, less they become spiked on the ice.  Which made them much easier targets for the archers on the walls.

Then the head of one of the orcs exploding, and Moliira paused.  So someone else was out there too, that was good to know.  She took a few moments to look at the people around her, seeing people of all nations and bearing weapons of all kinds.  There was one familiar face among the crowd, and the drow sketched a quick salute towards Silanus before moving to a different part of the wall.  She did hope he had learned a lesson from their encounter in Mo'mey, but Moliira had other things on her mind just now.  She wanted to get a better look at the overall battlefield, and to see just who else had come to aid the city.

A smell crossed her nose, causing Moliira to stand perfectly still for a few long moments.  She was here.  And Moliira knew she had to find her.  Her feet carried her quickly to another part of the wall, and the strongest source of that familiar yet changed scent.  She came up behind the cloaked form, took a moment to compose her words.  A part of her wanted to grab Paige into a close hug, but not here.  There were too many strange eyes.  "Paige, my sister.  I am truly glad to see you.  Blaine told me what happened," she said, speaking in a low tone so they wouldn't be overheard.

Hiding behind the gates with his army, ready to ambush the enemy if they entered through the gates, Tacitus Silanus saw her. The drow from before, the one that almost killed the orc chieftain in front of them… Oh, how much would he like to apologise to her, for the things he had done when the Fratians were under a malevolent curse; now that they weren't under the curse, Silanus realised how bad he had acted.

Silanus, ran upstairs and got a better view of the battlefield; the goblin-orchish coalition was gaining terrain and getting closer. Some of them had small ladders that the goblins would use to climb the walls and stop the marksmen while their allies approached. However, each ladder carrier got shot down. The city defence was going well, that's it until he saw a heavier siege weapon… An armoured battering ram.

That battering ram had an iron "roof" that protected the orcs who pushed it. If the Ram approached the gates, they would break and pass through them in less than one minute! This was something that worried Silanus; the general walked towards to what seemed to be the leader of the marksmen. He then asked: "If that battering ram gets here, we're in serious trouble. Does this poor excuse of a city have hot oil so we could burn any passing enemy? I don't see the cavalry rushing to stop the battering ram, where are they?!" 

Finally, even if most skirmishers fired upon it, the battering ram reached the gates, giving it's first hit, which made all the walls tremble.

If there was one thing that the orcs of Itjivut held over the Hiafae and Rafandi, it was their command structure. In the heat of battle, orcish commanders were never designated by ceremony or rank like those of their opponents. Instead, strength determined who would lead. The biggest and strongest among the ranks would direct the army, and Gifre's incursion was no different.
 
After their initial leader was slain by an attack from Toirneach, the orc-goblin alliance suffered only a small amount of disarray. Another leader was chosen quickly, and the formations resumed. I feared this might be the case before I even made my strike, but that hardly mattered in the larger scheme of things. As a tourist, I wasn't trying to win the war. I cared more about wine and sport than anything else, so my failure to more permanently disrupt the orcs was of little consequence to my true goals.
 
There was, of course, just the slightest bit of concern that arose with the appearance of an actual siege weapon on the field. Given the sparse nature of Itjivut's forests, conventional siege weapons were virtually unheard of in the island's art of war. Timber was too valuable of a resource to be wasted on siege weapons that wouldn't regularly be used. Hiadref was the only stationary city on the entire island, and the orcs had never dared to execute such a large scale attack as they were now. In fact, the most common use of timber was for shipbuilding because of the need for trade with the mainland.
 
Yet somehow the orcs had still managed to gather enough ore and wood to construct their own battering ram, one able to shrug off the elven arrows enough to reach the walls. To make matters worse, the ram wasn't the only implement of destruction the orcs were bringing forth. Gifre must have convinced some frost giants to join his cause as well, because three lumbering behemoths appeared on the horizon shortly after the ram began slamming into Hiadref's walls. The giants' steps sent shockwaves through the snow, and the defenders could feel them long before they could see the source.  Soon, they would rain down volleys of snow and rock from the yak hair sacks on their shoulders, crushing any resistance in their path.
 
The situation was obviously grim for the defenders, even as they began retaliating with great ferocity. The ram, for example, was not long for this world when faced with the Hiafae version of "boiling oil." If nothing else, the Hiafae were ingenious with their use of ice magic. Throughout the years of warfare they had endured, they had created a form of magical ice with the ability to flow like hot oil while still freezing everything it came in contact with. The substance was poured from magical cauldrons onto the ram posthaste, freezing the crew solid and clogging up the weapon's pivot joints. The engine of destruction had been vanquished in that moment, but not before one of the giants was already in range.
 
"GIANT," shouted one of the defenders shortly before he was crushed beneath a flying boulder! There would have been another had Toirneach not been ready to attack again by that point. A well placed shot from me on the giant's heart sent him reeling onto a nearby column of orcs, crushing them just before he too expired. This act would give the defenders a brief reprieve before the other giants reached a suitable attack range – or at least that's what I thought.
 
I couldn't have been more wrong in my assessment, because, as soon as the giant hit the ground outside the walls, his "boulder" from earlier revealed its true nature. The stone split open to reveal a large orc covered in stone armor which promptly began assaulting the defenders. The giants weren't just throwing inanimate objects, it seemed. They were injecting implements of destruction behind enemy lines. Soon orcs would be raining down from the skies unless all the giants were swept away.
 
 

Paige couldn’t help but to wonder when the climax of this fight would come, if it ever did at the rate all of this was going. Too many variables to keep up with such the amount of personnel that were fighting on either side, the rate of death both took as well as ammunition, food supply and fatigue. She knew that the side she was with had much few combatants than the ever growing army they opposed. It seemed that for every one goblin or orc they took down, two more would come in their place. She couldn’t help but to be curious as to how in the world they could have that many in their reserves, which begged the question even more- just how big were they actually? As she turned her attention to the elven archers, she knew that they were getting tired and it would affect their focus and performance. The make shift barricades would hold out, but the exact duration didn’t seem to be favorable by any means. If the opposing army was to reach the walls, she supposed that they would break down enough of it to get their soldiers through with ease. From there, the guards would have to deal with them, but the sheer brute force alone would prove to be troublesome. The human tribes and the warriors that made it out here on their own accord (or so she assumed) would have to take over and fend them off from the city limits. She was unsure of how she would fair against the threat if hand to hand combat was to take place. In actuality, she was hoping that they could end this before such an act would play out in this story. Had it been Krystopher and Blaine that were fighting here, hell, they would have likely jumped into the fray themselves with recklessness. They had always been the fighters, them and Misty. Paige preferred a battle she knew she could succeed in, that of magic but the longer this fight was drawn out, the less confident she felt about this.

The goblins were more clever than she gave credit for as they attempted to bring up ladders to climb over the walls, but their efforts were in vain. They weren’t known for being the cleverest of species, or even remotely close so the hybrid pondered for a bit before whispering a chant in a foreign language amongst her as her bright blue eyes laid upon their dead. Within moment as she continued, the corpses of the fallen goblins and orcs begun to stir, bodies twitching and eyes softly darting around. Before long, some had begun to stand up and as she continued the chant, they drew their weapons from the ground and started to lash out against their brethren. They likely wouldn’t last too long, but at least they would make way for a breather or two for the resistance. Taking in a deep breath, she smelled something in the air, one that was relative to her own. It wasn’t Misty, but someone that was close to her and she bothered not to turn around until she regained her own composure from shock. “Moliira. It’s…good to hear from you again.” With that, she willed herself to turn and greet the drow with a half smile. “Aye, I know I shouldn’t be surprised that he had spoken to you and likely Krys as well. Still, the truth is still strange to grasp.” Especially with her reason for being here in the first place. Drifting her sights back to the battlefield, her gaze narrowed and a growl escaped her throat. “A battering ram? Something doesn’t feel right about this…where did they get it?” They weren’t known for being this heavy handed and there were still some things she couldn’t understand about this. The opposition got in a few shots at the walls before they were overwhelmed by one of the elves’ secret weapons, but the true contest would come from what was lurking in their ranks. Giants appeared and were heading towards the town, bombarding it with boulders. One of them were taken out, again she couldn’t see the cause of it, but the damage had been done already. The boulders revealed themselves to be more of the orcs as they attacked the defenders from within the walls and she could only shake her head in disbelief. “This isn’t right, she grasped either side of her head, trying to rake up a reason, any reason as to how they were executing proper and brilliant war tactics. “They kind favors brute strength over any sort of strategy”, she muttered more to herself than Moliira. One giant was taken out, again she didn’t see what had cause for its departure but with this tactic, it wouldn’t take too much more effort for the whole place to be breached. This was what she had been worried about, having to defend from behind the walls now. Looking to Moliira, she attempted to regain her composure. “Those giants have to be dealt with before any more come through our lines. I will try and take care of the ones that make it through, can you deal with other bothersome things?” Moliira had too been the fighter, stronger and more knowledgeable in the art of war than she had. She was praying that she may have an idea or two on how to handle the behemoths. In the meanwhile she broke rank temporary as to deal with the stone armored orc. Conjuring up another round of ethereal blades around the creature, she released them all at one upon it. Even as it merely stunned it, it was according to her plan as she secreted another spell into it, one that would weaken it enough for the others to strike it down.

Now things were getting interesting.  The appearance of the giants told Moliira that there was a deeper game to be played here, another hand behind the attacks.  Orcs and goblins working together wasn't wholly unheard of, but the giants… that was something else entirely.   What that was, Moliira had a few ideas.  But she was certain that entity would reveal itself soon enough.  There was a small smile on her own face when Paige faced her, it was clear her sister had been through a terrible tragedy.  But Moliira had a quiet faith in her sister that Paige would still be there for her family.  And here she was, aiding a people not her own.  That was a good sign.

The drow nodded at Paige's assessment of the tactics.  She stared across the tundra at the question, knowing the giants had to be taken care of, and quickly.  But that was no easy task.  "I have a few ideas.  It will be dangerous, of course.  Make sure none of the sneaky little buggers get close to me," she said once Paige had a moment to listen.  The drow slipped her skin, turning to a great silvery wolf and leapt down from the wall.  Her paws quickly found purchase in the snow, and she took off at a full run towards one of the giants.  Her coat blended in enough with the snow that the giants and orcs wouldn't seen her until she got close, too close to be stopped. 

Zigzagging across the battlefield, the drow made her way quickly towards the giants.  A plan was solidifying in her mind, one that she put into action as soon as she was in range.  One of the giants saw her, started to turn.  But it was too late.  She slipped her skin again, crossbow in hand, and shot the giant in an eye.  While the drow's homebrewed poison wouldn't kill the creature, it would most definitely slow it down.  And that would make it that much easier to kill.  Already, the giant was starting to stumble around as the powerful anesthetic made its way into the blood.  She grinned, slipped her skin, and made her way to the next giant.

But she froze in her tracks when a massive bellow thundered through the skies.  A dragon, scales white as the tundra, was winging towards the city.  And there was a malicious intent in its eyes.  She had to keep moving to avoid getting smashed by a giant, but Moliira's thoughts were whirling.  She had seen how the giants and orcs turned towards the massive dragon, fear in their eyes.  But they did not run.  Now it was all clear.

The dragon was behind the attacks, and Hiadref was in trouble.

The invasion was getting out of hands; the orcs and goblins were already dangerous, but now those giants… Atleast, on the bright side, the ram was destroyed by the magic of the elves, something that even Silanus had to admit was clever. Unfortunately, the giants had an impressive battle tactic… they literally threw their allies inside the city.

Those stone-armored orcs were rampaging inside the garrison forces, some of them stopped but the few rest were still a danger. Silanus' swordmen were able to murder two of the orcs, while the rest were taken care of by some elvish knights. Silanus, with his javelin in hand, gazed upon the battlefield, planning to throw his weapon and hopefully stop a giant. Big surprise the general had when he saw a wolf then into an armed Drow that shot a giant right in the eye.

Tacitus Silanus threw his javelin right between the giant's eyes, of course killing it. It was already weak thanks to Moliraa's shot, which seemed to be poisoned. Right when Silanus was about to grab another javelin, he saw a mighty figure in the skies, shakening it's wings. At first, the general thought it might be a wyvern, but it was something worse… A dragon?!

All the soldiers raised their heads and looked at it. So terrifying, so mighty… How would they defeat such thing, while dealing with the invasors at the same time? Silanus raised his hand and pointed it towards the dragon, then yelled to his skirmishers: "Troopers! If that thing gets closer, we will be annihilated right here! Take it down!!!" Archers and slingers, both who served under the Fratian regime began to attack the dragon, but their arrows didn't penetrate it's scales, and the stones simply bounced off. To make it any worse, some orcs, with their shields raised, were charging against the wall, with their big warhammers made of orichalcum, able to break through the strongest of wood. If they were not stopped, the invaders would step in at any moment.