It may seem prudent to ye, who are practiced in the magical arts, to imbue into each and every facet of the defense magical runes and enchantments of various sorts. In truth, this strategy may work against the nonmagical or the ill-trained; those beasts and apprentices of the arts which have but a short grasp of the finer points of wizardry. These, who are not sufficient of skill to dispel or counter-spell your works, will certainly be deterred from any attempt upon the safety of thy township and no battle need be joined. But these are no more than bandits and lesser beasts; those from whom towns are most safe by the virtue of any defense. That is to say, visiting wizardry upon every facet of thy defense will not stave off those to whom magic is familiar. A magical wall may be dispelled, a shield broken, an illusion seen-through. Indeed, the magnitude of such magical works may draw attention from the very creatures most like to undo them. It must be remembered that a powerful spell is equally powerful a beacon in the River. Take not just my own word, but the posthumous examples of the Morlu. Many a hidden bunker and tunnel-way have we found unmarked by magic; simple stone cutouts in a secluded cliffside or beneath a bed of leaves. If my words were wrong, then why should the most powerful of mage-races neglect to use their skill to conceal, by magical means, these secret entrances? No other explanation is there but that the use of magic to conceal these entrances by illusion (or trap them) would have been the very undoing of their secrecy. Beyond this prime disadvantage lays another not so distant: the necessity of skilled mages for the upkeep of the defense. The lack of ordinary components of the defense belies those ordinary folk under thy care from contributing to their own protection and, until we once again reach the education and skill of the Morlu, this means the majority of those thou shall endeavor to protect shall be worthless to thee. Further, few and far between are mages of such quality who may project, onto even the smallest of villages, a shield of any strength for more than a few hours a-time. Thus, it should now be planted firmly in thy mind that magic cannot, alone, defend any place whereabouts can be expected trouble from anything more than lowly beasts and bandits. Ye may ask, "Then what role shall mages yet play?" A pertinent question, and now I shall cut to the quick. Just as a ropewalker balances himself with his pole, shifting it ever from one side to the other as the situation warrants, so must ye balance the ordinary and extraordinary. Should the pole shift too far to one side or the other, the ropewalker will fall; just so with thy charge. What I mean is this: the magicks must augment the defense, and ease the burden placed upon those bodies who shall defend, at the time of strife, the walls. Yet, reliance on spellcraft must not run so deep that but a single counter-spell removes the keystone of thine arch of defense. An arcane shield functions well as the first layer obstacle, but poorly as the only. Easy it is, for the untrained, to imagine a vast fortress, as if Morlu, surrounded by and inundated with traps, bulwarks, and enchantments magical; yet a trained magician well knows that this vision is unattainable except for those divine. Far more effective, and easier, is it to use magicks in small ways to augment physical defenses; strengthening the stones of thy walls, conjuring minor beholders as sentries, enchanting levers that they may be pulled with a word of power, from a distance. These smaller enchantments and works of magic can more easily be conjured by lesser mages; lesser mages who are in more steady a supply than grand-masters. Further, these smaller enchantments are more difficult to detect and can therefore be more easily hidden -- an especially useful trait for those who's townships desire a certain mundane-ness to avoid being attacked. With this seed now firmly planted in thy mind, I shall continue now onto our first practical discussion, that of magical sentries.
Un-living sentries, be they wrought of yllurian steel or conjured from the Astral Plane, have been ever-present in the plans of those councilors charged with the common defense. To conjure, for the purpose of saving a mortal body from risk, arcane watchmen appears an infallible tactic to stave off loss of the precious lives ye seek to defend; but consider ye the quality of magicians who may serve ye. An apprentice magician may sustain but a single automaton of middling quality for just the time between sun rise and set before keeling over, dead of exhaustion. A grand-master may control two dozen, perhaps more, for the same duration. A more typical magician may control four or five sentinel creations for one-third of the day, resting the other two-thirds. Recall, these four or five sentries -- these are but automata: un-thinking creations of middling skill and quality. If ye desire to have only the finest Warforged among your guardsmen, the finest mages must accompany them. These questions, then, must ye answer: have ye the mages to fill the ranks of your guardsmen with these arcane watchmen? Have ye the coin to pay them? To whom do these mages owe allegiance, and by what or whom are they bound to ye? Coin? Oath? Good will? Even a grand-master shall be of scant use if he be a coward. Prudent, ye will find it, to recruit first from the township which shall be defended. Mercenaries from without may be steadfast in their oath, but rarely will a townsman abandon his home in any but the most dire of circumstances. The local supply depleted, turn without to, first, neighbors and, if possible, the lord of the land. But before thy search commences, let us discuss strategy.
Clear it should be that an army of the arcane should prove, in all but the smallest of towns, nigh impossible to raise. There are, plainly, too few mages (and too little coin to hire them) to provide, for thy charge, a constant and vigilant guard, especially in those more desolate regions as such I happened to hone my craft. Recall, too, that thine use of magic must, as a ropewalker, be balanced. A few strategies shall I present. First, the application of a paltry few automata as mere alarms. These, lumbering and stupid as they are, should be used in those sections of the perimeter most hazardous or difficult for their mortal brethren to surveil. Should anything set upon the arcane sentries, they should let out a great cry, thereby alerting the ready-waiting mortals to the danger. Subsequently, these ready-men should proceed to the distressed sentry and deal with the threat, if there be one in truth. Consider as a second strategy the interspersion of a number of automata among the watchmen. Giving to each squadron of watchmen, especially night watchmen, an automaton grants them a disposable ally who can readily be assigned to investigate danger that may otherwise prove fatal to its mortal companions. Against those foes which prefer to ambush patrols, or when the area just outside the perimeter of defense is dangerous, this can be an effective counter. Further, this strategy can be used to draw out less intelligent foes (beasts, usually) that the watchmen can deal with the threat, having only risked an automaton. The third stratagem is suited to more skilled magicians, and thus more intelligent automata. Here we reverse, somewhat, the strategy I first devised to you. These watchers, ever ready, stay unused all the day and night save for when the alarm is raised by mortal watchmen. Once the alarm is sounded the mage presently at-arms shall imbue the constructs with power and rush them towards the source of the outcry. In this way, any lone nightman may be more swiftly reinforced than if he were to wait on his mortal fellows to arm and arrive. These automata should be of higher quality than the stupid alarms we have ere discussed, else they will be ineffective soldiers and generally useless but for intimidation. Now shall I conclude our discussion of automata, though there be always more to say, and set mine eyes upon arcane shields.
A massive dome of bright purple energy enwraps a brightly lit, snow-covered town. Dark violet waves cascade from the apex of the dome, as if the energy is flowing into the earth itself, warping, ever so slightly, the peaceful image of the town just beyond the arcane boundary. Were it not for this bulwark, the town beyond would long since have been swallowed up by the creatures of the night. This is what the layman envisions when imagining an arcane shield. In truth, real magical shields are rarely visible or so grand as to encompass an entire township. Such a shield could only be effective so long as the mages conjuring the shield from within were stronger and greater than those without. The requisite energy for a large shield of this sort would be such that all the mages in your employ would be consumed by the task of maintaining it and, under siege by a determined enemy, could only hope to prolong the inevitable. Further, while a large, hemispherical shield would indeed blanket the entire township to be defended, it is not often true that a town or castle faces an attack, equally strong, from all sides. More practical ye would find it to use much smaller shields, such that the magicians sustaining the spells may divert some of their energy into other spellcraft and thus all of your magical power be concentrated at the point of direst concern. These smaller barriers may cover arrow-slits, doors, and ramparts from which defenders can repel the enemy. The barriers here serve not to stop the enemy outright, but to stop the enemy from stopping the defenders. They are to prove an insurmountable annoyance, forcing those magically inclined enemies to dismantle one-thousand small spells instead of one grandiose magick. Each mage in thy charge should be given only one or two barriers of middling size to uphold (no larger than the width of ten men abreast) so that he may still, on occasion, hurl a curse or fire-ball down upon thy foe. In this way can ye benefit maximally from the magicks at thy disposal in offense and defense.
Finally, shall I devise to you the employ of magical words of power. An enchantment should be laid on all those implements of the defense that may benefit from activation at a distance. If thy charge is enwrapped with stone walls with a portcullis drawn up - or a gate opened - with a winch, an enchantment should be laid upon the winch. If cauldrons of heated sand and water are set on the ramparts and above murder-holes and machicolations, then an enchantment should also be laid upon these. If arrows be imbued with magical effect, these should also be activated by an utterance. All things of this nature should, for the benefit of the defense, utilize words of power. These words should be carefully chosen. They must not be in the common vocabulary of thy adversaries nor thy charges and should be only known to the defense. These words must not be uttered by accident, for the enchantments cannot divine intention. Thus, words in foreign tongues, or devised anew shall be used and taught to the defense. Each militiaman must memorize these words and keep no record of them on his person, and these militiamen shall be regularly tested.
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