Negaverse: Xohyr: Endings
The Ymaryn army encircled the city, dull silver metal gleaming under the noon sunlight. Their infernal war machine rhythmically struck the gate, again and again, each blow slowly cracking the defenses of a city that had stood since time immemorial. The king grips his scepter, the wood nearly cracking under the pressure.
It had all gone so wrong, so quickly. The old stories spoke of a time when the Xohyssiri empire had encompassed land beyond imagining, a time where all had trembled in awe and fear of the might of the Xohyr, quick to offer tribute lest they attract the attention of the mighty empire.
Those same stories mentioned how the peaceful Ymaryn had always remained aloof from the affairs of the world, disinterested in the constant wars of the lowlands that their neighbors seemed so fond of. While it was known that the Ymaryn were fierce fighters, it had always been thought they were too soft to ever wage a true war of conquest.
It had become quite evident that the view of the Ymaryn as the 'peaceful hill folk' was absurdly wrong. Their conquest of the northwest part of Xohyssiri had not seemed to sate them in the slightest, their warriors cutting through any resistance offered with almost absurd ease. Only the weather had slowed them to a significant degree, but even that had never truly halted their advance under their King's banner. Ever onward they marched, until they had reached Xohyr itself, and laid seige to the great city.
The situation had only been worsened by the continued persistence of the Swamp Folk, their own armies doing disgustingly well against both the remaining Xohyssiri warriors as well as the few Thunder Horse that remained in vassalage. With Xohyssiri armies being defeated in both the east and the west, morale had dropped to lows never thought possible.
And now, the Ymaryn stood at the outer gates of Xohyr itself, their new fangled 'hammer' battering away at the gates. The king still felt a sense disbelief at the amount of iron, bronze, and wood that had been used to create the contraption, but it was clearly demonstrating its worth. Turning away, the King of the Xohyssiri departed the battlements, a sense of despair engulfing him. When the gates finally opened, there was no gallant call to arms, no attempt to rally the warriors to push back the Ymaryn horde. There was only fear and despair, as the walls that had never once fallen were finally breeched.
The Ymaryn and their lowland vassals were quick to shatter what resistance there was, with much of the outer city being looted by vengeful lowlanders, men who had nurtured a hatred for might Xohyssiri since they had first been forced to send their people to the bloody alter of the Xohyssiri gods. Men, both young and old, were put to the sword, women were taken away as spoils along with the vast wealth of the outer city's merchants.
After a time, it seemed as though the siege would simply be extended, the hammer brought forth to shatter the Skull Wall's defenses. But a change came over the Ymaryn warriors, as they set to destroying everything they could reach. Entire neighborhoods were set aflame, those who did not surrender either burned alive or were put to the sword. Flames swept through the lower city, even as the inner city was being demolished by the Ymaryn. Grand buildings that had stood for centuries were engulfed in the flames, until nothing but a burned out husk of a city remained.
GAME OVER