Scene 1: Alarum

Boom... boom... boom...
In this forgotten crypt under the city, the noise of the cannons is more of a unusual vibration than anything else, but Implacable Arbiter of Inexorable Decay opens his eyes for the first time in months. Around him, a single ghost mumbles about incantations, uncaring of anything else.
Boom... boom... boom...
As he stands up slowly, some rubbles fall from his cloak and soulsteel armor. Without a word, he grabs his soulsteel daiklave and head toward the exit.
Boom... boom... boom...
He pushes aside effortlessly a huge slab of stone he used to block the entrance and start to navigate the ancient tunnels of the Undercity toward the surface.
Boom, boom, boom.
The cannons and the scream of death and carnage get louder as he draws closer. Most people on his path had already run to safety and those that were still running gave him a wide berth instinctively. Finally, he founds a welded hatch leading the the streets above. He cracked it with a mighty punch and pushed the rest open with brute force.
Once through, he took a deep breath and took in his surroundings. The screams of death and the smell of blood was comfortable, comforting even. The harsh southern sun and the bunch of Hobgoblins staring at him for interrupting their playful session of torture were less so. That part didn't feel right. Oblivion was inevitable for everyone, the last blessing of existence. Those disgusting, disrespectful creatures, however, did not earn the right to be agent of Oblivion.
Raising one armored hand, the Arbiter invite silently the creatures to come meet their end.

Seeker observes the interaction between the bowman and the Delzahn and marks the newcomer as someone of significance.

"Exactly the sort I have been waiting for" he muses to himself. It was time to make his presence known. But before he can turn back to the roof exit he notices a slight disturbance in the sea of enemies. A hole appears in their midst and another creature rises up from the center. A Raksha perhaps? No. This was something different. Something new. The hobgoblins recoil, as a giant armored figure all in black, appears from beneath the street. Who or what was it? Why was it here? This was certainly a day for mysteries and mysteries were his stock-in-trade.
Seeker watches as the huge black figure raises his giant blade in one hand and beckons the horde to try their might against him.

"Confident. In just a moment I suppose we will find out if it is warranted."

Seeker had to choose. He could make his way towards the black figure or the bowman. They both looked like they might be allies, but the bowman looked to be in a safer position, and besides, while the other might also be allied, they might easily mistake Seeker for an enemy before he got a chance to explain himself.

Seeker gazes over the edge of the building examing the configuration of the balconies mapping the safest route between them. While he was not known for his agility, Seeker could drop from balcony to balcony using his staff to slide down a bit more safely. Normally he might not try such a thing, preferring to use the stairs and not draw too much attention, but this method would be quicker and allow him to continue to observe the developments below while he further refined his plan during the descent.

The Arbiter had more than one lifetime worth of experience on the battlefield. He could read the flow of a battle well and, more importantly, how to disrupt it. With the power of the Exaltation entrusted upon him by his master, it was often all to easy.

"I am Xari, and I am coming to offer my aid to whatever is happening within the city! Please let me through!"

Unlike the nightmare rising from the middle of the horde, Seeker has always prefered to take a cautious approach to conflict. Battle not really being his forte. He moves carefully, taking note of each new development, the ebb and flow of the arrayed forces, his gaze shifting from his goal of reaching the Jade Bowman to the surrounding chaos and back again. Seeker lands on the street keenly aware of all that is transpiring and weaves his way through the defenders to reach his target, attempting to avoid conflict unless absolutely necessary.

Zefir nodded, as if he personally knew those men and was already aware of their plan.
And, in a sense... this was the case. Maybe that was this so-called "esprit de corps" that naturally arose from people fighting next to each other ?
Now wasn't the time for such questions however. No long and great speech before the battle, no perfect strategic plans. At the heart of victory lies the ability to seize the moment, and now was more the moment than it would ever be afterward.

Soldiers ! Each second that passes is another civilian that succumbs to this monstrosities ! We do not have the time to fear now, only to tear apart and triumph ! CHARGE !

Leading the charge next to the lieutenant himself, Zefir raised his bow before he even had an enemy in clear sight.