Summoner

This is one of the most keeping story I have ever created because of the similarities between the settings and characters to that one favourite game of mine. Sort of anyways but if you ever play FF XII, you would kow about half of the settings and how the customs are done inside this one.

Here we go.

    The dark sky was made darker by the contrast of flames that was licking the whole city, spreading from one rooftop to another and the chaos within the buildings themselves are making grim of the city's fate. There were bodies, bloodied or blackened, scattered everywhere. The war had taken the north gate first, the armies of the great Empire, led by the Lord General Haxin himself, had crashed through magical barriers and physical alike. The hand crafted duralumin gate now stood bended and broken by it's hinges. Starting from there, the bodies were piled up one after another at the sides of roads, marking women and children as well as men in shining armor. Now, their eyes stared into void, claiming for a cause to end this war.
    At the center of The Shining City, Rousce, the armies of Great Emperor of the Cena was immobilizing. The march had continued from the north gate to the adjacent east gate, where the enemies now stood, marking their territories, a magical barrier between them and the 7th Platoon, a whole 500 men wielding pikes in bulky armor, even now eyeing the barrier as suspciously as the gathering men on the other side. One of them shifted his shoulder muscles, trying to adjust to the strain on his left one. His arms were slapped with a metal clang from another man coming from behind.
    "Get ready, the mages are bringing the paling down. Once it's down, we are sure to meet the fury of Rousce's defenders. Those guys out there are really asking for it," the man from behind addressed to those within earshot, causing a turbulence in the straight line. He was wearing a helmet like all the others but his looks older than any of them and looks weary from repaired dents. His was also decorated with chips and carvings only a master craftsman could've appreciate, matching the ones on his gauntlets down to his metal boots. Evidence of fighting bloodied the chips now.
    "Yes, sir! Sir... Why are we even at the East gate? We could've charged through to the center and take the city before dinner," the pikeman asked.
    Silence filled in amongst shifting men, each of them looking at the new recruit. The man in decorated armor looked at him, his eye holes seem to be frowning. Yet, he looked away almost immediately and went to the front. He turned around and looked from one of the line to the other. Five stretches of men, each of them designed at their places specifically. The great wall of Haxin, some called them. That would be an understatement. This wall are fearless and they could charge through thousands of man within minutes. But they are also made to be the first one to fall.
    "Listen! Rousce will fall tonight because of its betrayal of our treaty! They will know despair throughout Cena! We stand here to mark that betrayal and to strike fear into the other nations! The mighty Empire will not fall down tonight! I ask plenty of you all. So, I will ask again tonight! Who are the defenders?"
    As an answer all of the pikesmen hauled up their spears and roared out a single word. "Men!"
    The commander in front took up his halberd. "Who are the men?"
    The rows of men brought their pikes down and slant it towards an angle, with their big shields covering their ranks, shouting "Ingrods!"
    Commander Faam turned to face the other armies, now getting ready to meet them as well, with their long and short swords. After this, I am done with all of these wars, he said inside. Outward, he asked one last question.
    "Who are the Ingrods?"
    "Us!"
    The Paling was down even as the question asked. The men Rousce charged on like cornered rats, fighting a futile battle against them. That day, the Ingrods won but none of them cheered when the charge was cleared. Another wave was coming and they were marched to the south gate. Inside those steel helmets, the men of Ingrods frowned in grim determination. A madman was leading them, from one place to another.
    The only reason they are delaying the succumb of the city was because the madman wanted the Shining City to surrender. Not to be destroyed instantly. Instead, the madman wanted to make the Emporer of the Cera crawl to his legs and beg for peace. A madman was leading these grim men. And none of them could breath a word of defiance.
    The night was long and the battle hard. But the Ingrods stood high and tall throughout, claiming their name of the Wall of Haxin.