It may seem insane to open a city door in the face of an advancing army the size of the one which the Huns are sending at Bruxzella, yet there are moments such as this, when insanity becomes a viable option.  At least, the gray haired men show now sign of thinking otherwise.  They seem to know that what they are doing.

One of the older men in the doorway turns and sees Iatos, the old temple keeper, approaching.

“Iatos,” he calls out.  “Who is this? Who are you bringing?  The battle comes, Iatos!  We’ll do our best to make a hole in their lines… Hallus has gone to round up those who wish to leave.  When the Huns come, they will rush the gap we make and run for the Elven forest.  If it is the will of the gods, the Huns will be too intent on taking and pillaging the city to turn and pursue those trying to escape.  We have the magic the Elves and Count Dongestede have created,  let us hope it works.”

The old warrior stops and looks at one of the approaching group.  A woman.. two women… three if you count that strangely colorful one.. that must be some kind of Elf?   For a moment, he starts to say something like “this is no place for…” but then he too realizes.. this is the desperate moment, the time for the insane options.  The battle line is no place for old men, either.

Through the open door, the party (parties?) can see the approaching army of the Huns:  five enormous siege towers rolling forward on massive wooden wheels, a quarter mile away, rolling through the fields on the south side of the road that runs straight east from the gate house.  And spread out to the sides, on either side, more Orcs than anyone has ever wanted to see at once.

OOC: Actually the 'gate' strategy is an ancient art of war technique whereby you let in a partial (smaller) group of the enemy. Then deal with that smaller group before letting in the next bunch. This is done both in the field often with appropriate terrain to facilitate it and with structures. Granted, there are inherent challenges with managing such a tactic successfully but it's certainly been done before.

It is clear that preparations for the defense of the siege are well underway. Just how this is going to work out is not exactly clear to Salen, but there is no point in asking questions now. In fact, there is only one thing to do. He nodded to the old warrior, and in greeting to his fellow elves, before addressing them in general.

"We are here to help, in any way we can. What would you like us to do?"

Ovo nodded to the those at the gate and then faced Salen.

"I'd be best up there wi' the siege engines. Best ta concentrate on those towers if'n we can!"

Then the dwarf looked to those holding the gate "Did ye place markers in yon field ta let yer archers know the ranges o' the foes?"

Swift looks at the approaching hun with a shocked look. She is not a fighter and this is not her idea of fun. She looks at Fey "Oh, you are so right it is depressing"

She looks at Salen "I suppose if I hid in a gate area, I can surprise a few" she mutters. She has never seen so many huns.

Bulwyf nods to the new, apparent, allies. "Glad to have the extra hands, we've got a surprise ready for the orcs. Peaceflower bombs, if you will. We've got to get to the forest. This town is forfeit it would seem. I am Bulwyf, I wish we'd all met under far better circumstances."

Swift looks at Bulwyf "I am Swift, normally I work as a scout, not gate holder but I will see what I can do."

One of the gray haired men speaks.

His voice has a determined, fatalistic edge.  Cold certainty.  "I am afraid, miss, that at the end of the day, none of us will be holding the gate.  Against such a horde as this it is impossible.  There are those of us who have volunteered to hold it as long as we can, but we do this so the young, with their lives ahead of them, might escape Bruxzella and reach the Elven forest to the east.  There is hope there.  The Elves are gathering, and Theoderic comes from the west.  Too late for the city, but in time to save the Elves and those who reach them, I hope."

He describes what the Gray Legion volunteered to do:  At the approach of the Orcish army, most of the warriors of Bruxzella left, along with many of the people.  But to buy time for the Elves and Theoderic, the Gray Legion, mostly old men determined to do what they can so that their families might survive, volunteered to stay and fight and make it appear that the city was actually was bracing for a siege.  Count Dongestede, a capable wizard, crafted illusions of soldiers on the walls.  Each night, some more of the people sneaked away.

"But it all ends now," he says.  We must hold here, to give the Orcs a fight because they expect one.  But we have weapons crafted by our wizard, and the Elves, with magic.  We will fling it at the siege towers, and If it works the Orcs will lose their will to fight.  Some of them, we hope.  Hopefully, enough, to let us make a gap in their lines.  We will need fighters on the ground to finish off those not subdued by the Elven magic.  In the confusion, the rest who want to leave, and our remaining fighters, will have a chance to use that gap, and then head for the Elven forest while the Orcs are storming the city.  We could use your help in making that gap, and escorting our people to safety, but I will not have you staying here to die with us.  You're much too young."

Ovo look at the man, his usually hard dark eyes now held concern and mayhaps something else.

"Ye have already bought time for both King and those ye love. This city kin be rebuilt... stone by stone if need be. Yet, King Theoderic, if he be here, he be say'n the same thing... he can nay replace ah brave man such as ye. Once those flee the city there be no reason ta stay n' fight. Come wi' us then. I make ye ah promise on me axe that me kin forged true, I swear ta ye this day I Ovo Goledshield will travel back wi' ye ta take this city."

He nodded respectfully to Salen "He be the Queen's own brother. The elves be his kin. He'll tell ye I speak true on both counts."

Ovo then turned to Salen "Me friend, tell him that there be nay ah need to die. Tell him he may serve his King n' city ah better way."

Bulwyf nods to Swift, "That's typically my duty as well, scouting. A pleasure." despite the situation, Bulwyf still has a warm personality. Turning to Ovo, "We've tried to convince him otherwise, if you can, it would be a burden off my shoulders sir."

There are loud thumping and knocking sounds from the battlement high above them, and cheers- the catapults have starting throwing their “Elven stones” at the oncoming siege towers.  In the distance, the party sees one hit the top of siege tower, disintegrating in a spray of liquid and a rain of pottery chips.

And then another.  And another…

Perhaps the Orcs were expecting more. Perhaps they were ready for heavy stones to crash against their siege towers, or pots of flaming Greek Fire.  As it is, the attack seems ridiculously feeble.  If anything, the Orcs only push harder.  The advance of the siege towers  seems to quicken, and a squad of a dozen light Goblin skirmishers comes running between the siege towers, heading towards the front.

Up on the battlement, orders are shouted:  reload and keep shooting, as fast as possible.

Inside the city, heading towards the gate, the wave of desperate people, carrying only what is most essential.- no wagons, no pushcarts, nothing to slow them down.  Iatos and Kastor, the temple keepers, guide them to the gate, shouting, “when you are outside, keep moving to the east, no matter what!”  There are hundreds of them, heading towards the gate, the same gate towards which the siege engines and goblin skirmishers approach from the other side.

In the gateway, the old warrior looks at the Dwarf.  “A fine time to talk about not dying, with those things coming down upon us.  Make a path so my people can follow.  When they are through, if I can I will follow.”

The siege engines have not stopped and are about 600 feet away.

Salen approaches Bulwyf and clasps his forearm in a traditional greeting. "Well met, Bulwyf - I am Salen Soulwater, of Geneva. Circumstances do dictate our conversation will have to be brief and to the point, but perhaps one day we will meet under happier skies."

The elf then turned and listened as the grey-haired old man spoke, and Ovo followed. Then Salen took his turn.

"My friend Ovo Goledshield speaks truly, on all counts. However..."

He paused, looking first to the grey-hair and then to Ovo and Bulwyf in turn.

"...I cannot ask him to turn away from his duty. His was the choice and freely taken. I did not ask him to choose his course, so I shall not ask him to turn from it. Sadly, he is right - we will need fighters here to reinforce the belief that the city is full of doughty defenders. Just as we will have to fight to make that gap so that the last of the free peoples of Bruxzella may escape to the safety of the Elves.

Of course I wish he could come with us, but..."

His words fall silent on the air.

Swift looks around "Isn't there another gate to go out or are they all covered?" she was not thrilled about charging into a mass of goblins and siege weapons.  She pulled out her short sword. "OK, so as I see it, how many do we each need to kill each to open a path?"

Bulwyf nods to Salen, "We will have that converstaion this night by the campfire friend. Have faith, the gods smile on the courageous." he smiled, he drew his magnificent swords, one glowing slightly, even in the days light, the other shimmering seeming to be made of water. He nodded to Swift, "How many do we need to kill? As many as we can." his grin grew, his confidence almost infectious, "I wouldn't worry with killing unless you have the easy chance, wound. Arms, legs. If they can't swing a sword, they can't fight."