A Time of Tigers - From Peasant to Emperor

"There's a fuckin' wagon!" One man shouted. "Do something!"

"You do something! I ain't going to get pinned full of arrows!"

Another man shouted back. It would have required a considerably brave man to show his head when so many arrows were flying. Cormrant had staggered the fire of his archers, having one-half fire whilst the other half reloaded, so that there was a near-constant stream of them.
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He even made the rhythm unpredictable, ensuring that the enemy couldn't get a well-timed shot out during the short intermission.

"DAMN IT ALL—GUGH!" One man roared, daring to show his head, his bowstring already taught and an arrow ready and waiting, only for one of Cormrant's strangely spaced arrows to catch him straight through the gullet.

Another man had better luck. He aimed his bowstring towards Rofus on the left. The little man must have sensed the shot, for he jumped out of the way just in time. It said something about how little the man was lending to their push that the wagon didn't even slow down by a fraction when he detached his hand, but no one was free enough in time to complain.

Soon they could see walls out of the corner of their vision. Old wood and new wood alike, atop stone foundations. Before they could even think to start slowing themselves, they fell into a mighty collision.

THUDDD!

With a loud crash and an unpleasant rebound, they sent the wagon straight into the centre of the gate. It seemed more a battering ram then than the transport unit that they'd intended it to be. The ill-repaired gates groaned under the force of the attack.

It seemed that there, they'd overestimated their enemy. Had they seriously committed to a battle-ram-style assault, they might have had some success. Now that they were right next to it, they could see half that old wood used on the gate was already rotten and liable to be punched straight through.

Still, they weren't exactly in any sort of position to rethink their plans.

"IN!" Northman shouted, shoving men inside the wagon ahead of him. They could hear the bandits shouting from behind the gate. Now even those not on the wall knew that something had hit them and they'd no doubt be expecting something.

Half the men dove inside the wagon at his urging. "GET IT OUT!" He shouted, "heft the ladder up! Quickly now!"

Of course, their cargo wasn't entirely empty. Knowing that they'd be assaulting a fort, they'd taken the appropriately lengthened ladders with them, at Skullic's suggestion. The walls of Fort Dollem weren't massive, not when compared to true fortresses, like the Academy, but they were big enough that an extendable ladder was necessary.

They'd brought five of them on the mission, three of which they'd stuffed into that large wagon, folded a good few times.

Amberlan grabbed a ladder basically by his lonesome and began dragging it out. Only then did the men on the inside think to help. Together they managed to quickly dump it out into the snow, before those outside took over.

"Shit," Oliver heard Gamrod say, as the man looked up at the top of the walls, no doubt sensing the arrows that would soon be coming their way. Luck was on their side, though, for Cormrant's barrage was still keeping them occupied.

Oliver grabbed the other end of the ladder and with Northman and the other outside men's help, they extended its three different sections, locked them in place, and then slowly, but surely began raising them towards the wall.

It was hard to tell whether the bandits had seen them yet. They were just grazing the outer wall with the tip of the ladder as they furiously tried to get it into position, but it wasn't exactly a job that could be done instantaneously. It was a lengthy and weighty bit of equipment. It took a fair few grunts before it was raised even halfway up the wall.

And then the enemy had seen it.

"LADDER!" One man shouted in alarm.

"Fuck off! WHERE?" Came another shout in return.

When they were planning it, they knew that this moment here would likely be the hardest part. Cursing, Rofus dove outside the wagon to grab the ladder's end, putting true muscle into it this time, getting it in line with the wall.

It came up just short, but not short enough that a man couldn't reach up and pull himself up over the final bit.

"Ser Patrick, that's yours—" Northman began to shout, but Oliver had already drawn his sword and leapt up the first few steps of the ladder. He could sense the tension with the enemy, as they frantically dared to raise their eyes and find out where the ladder was.

"BY THE GATE! BY THE GATE! PUSH IT OFF, QUICKLY NOW!"

Arrows were whizzing over Oliver if he climbed. He was resolutely aware that if one fell just a little bit short, then he would be punctured straight through. Third Boundary or not, an arrow wound to the back could easily become fatal. If anything, it was more likely to be fatal than not.

He climbed with ferociousness. So in tune was he with the Third Boundaries sea of proffered progress, that even as he climbed, better ways of climbing came to him. With his strength, it proved easier to launch himself, skipping steps. He switched technique halfway through, in the heat of battle, with merely seconds on the equipment, and he was moving faster than ever.

Such was the unrivalled potential for growth of a man that had just freshly stepped through the Boundary.

"DANCE!" Ingolsol roared in elation, as they cleared the wall together. Oliver's sword was as cold as the many icicles that hung from the wooden roof of the gatehouse. He plunged it through a man's chest without a shred of mercy, killing someone before he'd even hit the floor.

He rolled on the wood and was back on his feet a moment later. Cormrant was under orders to cease fire once Oliver made it to the top of the wall, but that didn't stop the last wave that came thudding past his head. He ducked to the floor once again.