[ WP ] Write an epic battle

The carriage had slid to a stop on the icy cobblestone street, and in position around it the thirty men of the Royal Guard had taken a defensive posture. Standing tall, unwavering, their faces expressionless. Each of them held a bolt-action rifle, emblazoned with the gold insignia carried by all dragoons. Each rifle had five rounds, and each soldier carried with him another hundred rounds on his person. 
 
 These soldiers stood in stark contrast to the crowd that had assembled down the street and in the alleys. Hundreds of people, dressed in ragged cloaks and jackets, faced the soldiers. Rowdy, they shouted and howled at the soldiers. Occasionally one would make some sort of obscene gesture, to a thunderous applause from the people surrounding him. 
 
 `` Let us leave, we're out of food! Where is the army?'' None of the questions the mob shouted out were answered, but they asked nonetheless. The siege had taken a lot from them; it was pretty obvious they did n't have any more patience. 
 
 Looking out the second story window of one of the buildings on the street, John could see the discontent stirring below. The fight in the street, he knew, was a petty standoff. He'd observed them before, over the two month period he had been inside the capitol; generally once a week, there'd be something of the sort. This time, though, he was ready to take his shot at the carriage. The crowd had begun to yell, and some people had begun to throw snowballs at the soldiers. `` Perfect,'' John mused, `` they'll start the riot before I'm ready.'' 
 
 It was snowing, windy, and dark. The perfect day for a lot of confusion, John thought, as he began to position his rifle on the table in front of the window, training his focus on the horse-bound officer who had moved up to the front of the ranks. John closed his left eye, held his breath, and squeezed the trigger. 
 
 Racing down the stairs of the dwelling, John could hear the chaos begin outside. One volley, two volleys, three, four, five, `` Reload!'' There were screams, there were shouts, and there was pretty much constant chaos. At the door, John quickly put on his blue dragoons coat, donned his officer's hat, and casually opened the door. 
 
 He began making his way towards the carriage. `` Almost there,'' he thought, `` Quickly get on, grab the reins, and get going.'' To his right, the situation was... poor. The mob had made their way to the line of soldiers, and were fighting hand-to-hand. One man broke through, and began running toward the carriage. John pulled out his revolver, quickly aimed, and put two rounds in the man's gut. `` Nope. My payday.'' 
 
 As John reached the door of the carriage, a lone soldier stepped to his side. `` Sir? I'm not sure I recognize you sir?'' 
 
 John sighed, turned to the side, and gave the young man a stern look before saying, `` Is this honestly your top priority, sergeant?'' 
 
 `` Sargent?'' 
 
 `` Oh fucksticks,'' John thought, `` Different insignia. Stupid things.'' 
 
 The man reached for his sidearm, but not quickly enough. John gripped his arm, twisted, and put pressure on it until he heard a crack. `` Finally, back to business.'' He let out a quick sigh, and opened the door. 
 
 What John expected was to find some balled up noble, trying to hide out the fight. What he got, was a kick to the face. He fell backwards, slipping on the ice. Over him jumped someone, he was n't sure who she was, wearing a bright yellow gown. John groaned, turned over, and pushed himself back up to a standing position. 
 
 Looking to his left, now, he could see the fight was about over. The mob was either running back, or had been completely cut down. A few squads of soldiers had returned their attention towards the carriage. They would be on him in a moment, John knew this. He got back on his feet, and turned towards the dragoons. 
 
 One of the men began running towards him, before stopping dead in his tracks. He was awestruck, horrified, and looking into the sky above John. John turned around, and saw exactly what was headed his way. Dozens of streams of smoke had arched over the city walls. With a dampened thud, they began to burst apart mid-air, raining down fire onto the city blocks below. What was worse, one such column of smoke seemed to be arching right towards where these men stood. 
 
 John knew what had happened. The defenders had been broken, the besieging army was making its way through the city, and the real fight had yet to come. No time to dwell on that now, though, as the problem of a giant ball of flame was a tad more immediate. John turned toward the building he had been hiding in, and booked it. He had made it in, not a second too soon, as he heard the dampened thud outside. 
 
 Outside, soldiers were shouting, giving orders, yelling to take cover. Then, the windows of the building were completely blown inward, the floor became covered in shattered glass and small metal beads. The sound a thousand ricocheting bullets echoed through the street. A moment later, only the howling of the wind could be heard.
