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The March of War

Started by visualspice, November 30, 2014, 04:06:05 PM

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visualspice

Neither wind, nor snow, nor mountains high or low, nor the cold that was chilling as death could keep a man who was wet with money, crazed for power, and drunk on fame to launch the single most largest campaign the war has seen yet, as the 'God of War'- General Krah Mordeth, lead the three largest branches of squadrons all the way from the capital up North, through a brutal, unyielding storm.

What drove the men forward was the fear of losing the stability of their union, the fear that the mage camps would fall and those with magics- set free to reek havok and destroy the precious land they have been fighting to save against those cursed people for too many years to count.  In Angsar's name, they drove onward, without a single casualty as they moved.

But who would dare try to advance upon such a large force? It could  easily rival the massive army that Turgall seemed to have mustered in the famous battle that lead to the down fall of Ajhfeld, for it was that sort of army, and also, a larger dose of chaos and weather, that General Mordeth and his men were about to face.

But on that day, the winds were blinding, the trail, no longer visible and for all Krah knew- he and his men were going in circles. It wasn't until the large, foreboding shadows of a mountain pass appearing through the fury of the snow storm that he knew he was at least somewhere near his destination.  The Kilanthro mountains almost seemed to challenge this snow storm- as did Krah and the army at his back, and he couldn't help but allow a smile to cut across the wild beard of scruff growing across his face as he rose his sword in honor to the mountain's peak.

At the rising of his sword, the army moved to a halt, all eyes upon their leader who they fearlessly followed to this path, and when he turned to the men, and they- holding their breaths and listening with intense interest for him to give them a speech, all that followed was the echo of his laughter through the snow.
CHECK OUT MY LATEST SITE EVENT!
The Never King- a king erased from history because of his dabblings in dark magic (among other things...) suddenly because a present day problem when an unlikely group of adventurers 'awakens' him from the grave. You can read more about the event on the plotting page here and information page here!

I ran the Connlaothian civil war. For more info, check out it's page here. The war has now turned into a 'Cold War' with it's plotting page found here. It's no longer a huge site wide event but the scars are there.

My currently active characters:
Grand Duke Calent Allarrick // Aella Coleridge // Blaith Harmond // Kella Harmond  // Hope Allarrick // Krah Mordeth // Mehtwald Allaen // Zannrick Austengarde // Katahnia Harmond // Jinai Rinstgate  // Leif Arrant // Dekka Blade  // Kentamin Dhelsbar  // Dahnny Quills  // Victoria Armani  // Ohna Waitsmith  // Jarrett L'isson  // Trest Arristaire  // Clayton "Jack-in-the-Box" Wilson // Cullen  //  Vels // Shay // Killian  // Fluke  // Mellesta // Danning // Petrin // Gavriella // Dornsley // Miersck // Aelith // Iyla // Angel // Ellarrah // Persea Ah'nikh // Phone // Jace // Ne'friss // Opus Dey // Lord Amalin // Ehvren // Narophne // Edward // Dehzrehn // Chase Vander // Valeska // Jayo //Layana // Rezvek // Red Sun // Harmanaija // Mirajah // Liana // Oska //Hay-gee // Beatrice // Ninn // Dao'bachpa //Pao'orha // Mae'leena // Davishire // Davina// Gemla // Hyathia //Thethysis // Urd // Missendria // Ina-herit // Feni'tat // Phen // Evelyn // Kell // Striker // Ithica // Connor // Vlint // The Gambler // Lord Aegis // Thomas // Quince // Althea // Vaeyna // Ihlsepar Asawa'eht // Krazxick // Djchastese // Katoma // Na'o // Moonlight // Bluesong //Caollette // Artemis // Arrick // Evetta //Jackal // Winston //Lenny // Anphis // Hebara //Ibra // Dre'hn // Veride // Arthund // Kao

Aeyliea

The cold bit at her flesh like icy demons, never relenting in their endless assault for so much as a second.  To some degree, it shamed her that she would have some degree of protection from the elements that the scattered, lost souls that followed her would not.  The fact that she even had an army at her back was surprising enough, and probably owed to notoriety more than anything else.

For Connlaothians, it was nearly an abomination to see a woman in the rank-and-file, but to be led by such as she?  Unheard of.  But they had come, perhaps because all other hopes had died in the fires of war, of treachery and deceit.  Not all - not, really, even a great portion of those still fighting in the lower lands.  She had maybe four or five thousand beaten men under her command, all force-marched from the capitol of the Duchy to the remote mountain fastness, ground she was intimately familiar with after two decades spent serving her country in its defense, in defiance of convention and expectation.  She had never, and would never, understand why there was so much fuss over the fact of her very existence, one that in most cases had been carefully glossed over or outright lied about.

Hadn't she paid her homage to the people?  To the Grand Duke?  To Duke Buttswick?  She had.  She had lost somethign precious to her in the service of her homeland, but they of course could not see that.

The regiment had encamped per her order in a saddle pass at the very edge of the mountains, with stone peaks decked in trees of every kind imaginable flanking them to the east and west, to such heights that no army could ever hope to scale them and retain a fighting formation.  The valley itself was narrow and steep walled, and ran back into the thicker part of the mountains - she had sent scouts ahead of her a long while ago, and the earliest to report back had found no sign of enemy presence in the deep folds of stone and earth.  For the nonce, they were relatively alone, with the only threat to the south and still - in all probability - engrossed in the sack of the city.  There would likely be much rapine and plunder, despite the fact it was countryman against countryman back there.

Civil war was so....so messy.

With careful thought, she had sent her archers - a paltry lot, only three or four hundred in number - onto the slops of the flanking ridges, to give them heightand range.  Accompanying them, a few hundred foot soldiers, sword-and-bows trained to fight in the thick of the fray.  Any foolish enough to approach unwanted would feel the slashing jaws of her concealed archers long before they made first contact with the perimeter of the camp itself.

For the rest, was the chaotic task of setting up camp amid a blizzard.  The wind howled, and made setting tents up a relative impossibility, not that they had managed to secure much by way of those supplies in their careful retreat.  She would have one, and maybe a few others of the staff officers.  The rest would sleep and rest in the cold and snow, and make do the best they could with what they had.

ANd by all likelihood, a hundred or so will freeze before a new day dawns, and we'll be in that much worse a position.  A sobering thought.  Their forces hadn't precisely crumpled benath the might of their newfound enemy, but they had ultimately been unable to stop their superior numbers.

She didn't relish trying to lead a small force against a much larger one, but it was the duty she had picked up for herself many long years ago, and she would not turn aside from it no matter how poorly the road may end.

"Sir?"  She turned, and eyed the man who had approached.  Behind her, a tent was quickly taking shape despite the winds, anchored by long steel spikes driven deep into the earth.  In front of her, a man with a couple days of growth on his face stared somewhere to the left of her head, just above the shoulder.  His armor was dented and scratched, and in places marred by deep maroon that had begun to crack and flake off.  A survivor, then.

"Yes?"  She asked.  Her voice was even, pleasant, and despite it all as cold as the wind blowing.  Her eyes, the color of the winter sky, were sharp and weighing as she took in the soldier before her.  "A report from the capitol?"

"Nosir.  Recon from the south and west, Captain.  Long range scouts have picked up the trail of a large force moving through the mountains, sir.  No definitive numbers, as they have not encountered it yet, but it is very large."  There was a hint of fear in his voice, she noted.  Not unsurprising, given the events of the past several days.

She thought to herself.  A large force, but from the west, not the south.  Reinforcement?  Or another group of little more than brigands, bent on whatever spoils they could gain by turning against their fellows?  There was no easy answer to be had in any of this - this war had already taken so many twists and turns, and so many of them defied logic.  It could be anything out there, anything at all.  To make the assumption of friends was foolish, but it was just as foolish to assume an enemy was inbound.  Caution, that had always been the name of the game.

She looked to the sky, her hair practically disappearing into the blowing white despite its length, and grunted.  Maybe three or four hours before nightfall.  If it was the long range scouts, then it was all too likely that whoever it was was close to hand and closing on their position.

"Have some of the cavalry strip their mounts down for speed.  Send half a dozen of them down through the pass and scout out the foothills.  None of them are to go more than an hours' ride from this position, understood?"  Her tone was as flat and undeniable as the mountains they stood in.  The man blinked for a moment, as if unsure why he was doing what he was doing, before snapping a salute off and turning about face, vanishing into the snow.

She looked around, and saw a staff sergeant overseeing the construction of her shelter.  "Sergeant."  The man looked up, surprised at being addressed, and hesitated a moment before responding and coming close enough for her to speak without yelling.  "Please, gather the men and get them into position to repel a possible attack.  Pikes to the front, offset ranks across the mouth of the pass.  Infantry behind, cavalry behind that."  He was swifter in snapping off a salute and going to do as commanded.

She looked into the swirling snow, and wondered.  By the bleeding foreskin of whatever loathsome God that gave spawn to this entire -week-....please, do not let this thing get any more irritating.

Little did she know.

visualspice

"I bet you were all hoping for a grand speech, eh?" he laughed again, his voice echoing through the snow. "But the truth of it is, you don't need a speech to egg you on. We're at the fucking mountains. Take a look men!" His voice now bellowed, his hand stretching out in wonder to the peaks before them. "Take it all in and know that we are here to conquer that."
And with a wicked grin, and the whipping of snowy winds, he turned back to his men and shouted, "Let us March onward!" And the words seemed to shake the land. "Let us march forth until our heels bleed and those traitors are crushed beneath our boots. Let us march on forever, even unto death, and kill them with our souls and drag them to hell with us shall we fall!"

And at such a proclamation, the entire camp was in an uproar, and with one final shout to his men, he had won them over for the day.
"Let us dine at the foot hills, then let us have their blood for dessert!"

Again, the men all roared and in the heat of hte moment, the men were pumped, and the camp was quickly assembled. These men had been fighting for years, and the winds for days. It only took them nary an hour to have the entire place littered with tiny dots of flames and the smell of cooked meats and ale mingling with the scent of snow covered trees.

At the fore front, Krah turned to his own captain and gave a smirk.
"All of this fucking walking got me thirsty. Bring out the ale. Too bad we haven't a woman. I could go for more than a fuck out here," he said through a groan, removing his helmet and revealing his sweat matted hair beneath.

The captain shook his head, knowing full well this was just how his General was. He was one of the few captains that could put up with his animalistic tendencies, so when Krah's face and fingers were grease slicked from the legs of meat he was eating, he was not repulsed and simply kept serving him more beer. But even at times like this when the men needed a break, it was their duty to at least remain with one eye on your guard. So when the message came that another group of men, in the thousands, reached his ears, the captain slowly lowered his cup of ale.

"Is this true?"

The scout nodded and the captain turned to the God of War. 

Krah belched and picked at the ear wax inside his ear with his pinky.

"Don't even say it, Craumwell, I have ears you know."

"Ears you just plucked clean, I wager."

Krah tossed his head back in a laugh. "And a belly ripe and warm with beer."

The moment went silent as the fire crackled between them.

"So what's the plan?"

Krah didn't bother to answer right away, taking his time to finish the last remaining meat on the leg he feasted on, and when he was through, he went about finishing his ale and picking out the meat from between his teeth.

"You ask me, acting as if you don't already know." At this, Krah's dark eyes glittered as a dangerous smile stretched across his lips. His helmet was on before he even stood, and his sword was drawn just as the captain rushed to stand at his back.

"MEN, TO YOUR FEET!" he roared. "WE HAVE ENEMIES WATCHING US IN THE MOUNTAIN! KEEP YOUR SHIELDS CLOSE AND YOUR EARS OPEN! WE ARE MARCHING FORWARD NOW!!!"

And like a tidal wave, the men arouse; ready and eager; and soon the entire army was moving like that tidal wave, ready to take down those cowards in the mountain. And he knew it was foolish to rush in, but he depended on his over whelming numbers, and the fact his men knew to protect themselves if there were any archer attacks.

Krah's best tactic, and his only tactic, it seemed, was to just rush the enemy, give them no time to think or scream. No one could surrender with him. No one could subdue him. THe second his sword was raised, it would cut down every man before him.

It happened before at the slaughter in Havanlaar, and again, years later, at the city of Thaedes. On this snowy mountain pass, he thought it no different-

Today... today was just another day to make his enemy bleed.
CHECK OUT MY LATEST SITE EVENT!
The Never King- a king erased from history because of his dabblings in dark magic (among other things...) suddenly because a present day problem when an unlikely group of adventurers 'awakens' him from the grave. You can read more about the event on the plotting page here and information page here!

I ran the Connlaothian civil war. For more info, check out it's page here. The war has now turned into a 'Cold War' with it's plotting page found here. It's no longer a huge site wide event but the scars are there.

My currently active characters:
Grand Duke Calent Allarrick // Aella Coleridge // Blaith Harmond // Kella Harmond  // Hope Allarrick // Krah Mordeth // Mehtwald Allaen // Zannrick Austengarde // Katahnia Harmond // Jinai Rinstgate  // Leif Arrant // Dekka Blade  // Kentamin Dhelsbar  // Dahnny Quills  // Victoria Armani  // Ohna Waitsmith  // Jarrett L'isson  // Trest Arristaire  // Clayton "Jack-in-the-Box" Wilson // Cullen  //  Vels // Shay // Killian  // Fluke  // Mellesta // Danning // Petrin // Gavriella // Dornsley // Miersck // Aelith // Iyla // Angel // Ellarrah // Persea Ah'nikh // Phone // Jace // Ne'friss // Opus Dey // Lord Amalin // Ehvren // Narophne // Edward // Dehzrehn // Chase Vander // Valeska // Jayo //Layana // Rezvek // Red Sun // Harmanaija // Mirajah // Liana // Oska //Hay-gee // Beatrice // Ninn // Dao'bachpa //Pao'orha // Mae'leena // Davishire // Davina// Gemla // Hyathia //Thethysis // Urd // Missendria // Ina-herit // Feni'tat // Phen // Evelyn // Kell // Striker // Ithica // Connor // Vlint // The Gambler // Lord Aegis // Thomas // Quince // Althea // Vaeyna // Ihlsepar Asawa'eht // Krazxick // Djchastese // Katoma // Na'o // Moonlight // Bluesong //Caollette // Artemis // Arrick // Evetta //Jackal // Winston //Lenny // Anphis // Hebara //Ibra // Dre'hn // Veride // Arthund // Kao

Aeyliea

"We are not certain, sir.  Its....not good."

As if she had expected it to be in any case.  The weather had worked its magic as long as it could, and bought them precious time to regroup and attempt to gather strength.  But they were tired - exhausted, nearly, after hours spent on force march through the harsh weather and rough terrain.  There was no supply line - there was no place to obtain supplies from, in any case.  All in the hands of the enemy, an enemy that already outnumbered them a great deal.  And now...now this.

"So you are telling me there could be upwards of fifteen thousand men down there?"  No emotion.  No fear, no unease to be detected - this much, at least, she could do for those who followed however unwillingly.  No matter how dire, a strong face.  "Even if the count is horribly off, they must be more than double our numbers, and well supplied.  Not from the capitol, else they'd still be involved in the sack, looting, and rapine at this point."

"They weren't able to get accurate counts, sir.  The weather blinds us as well as it blind them"  As if she didn't know that!  She had been counting on it hiding them until they could at least get properly organized, or even better, until she could send some raids into their supply lines, obtain the goods they needed while breaking those vital resources for them even if only temporarily.  Instead, they would be forced to act on the defensive yet again.

"Gather the squad officers and staff sergeants.  Get them here on the double."  A few hours of this, being bossed around by a woman, and some of them were already following the natural inclination of any soldier:  follow the orders of whoever it is that steps up and seemsto know what they are doing.  She had expected some senior officer to pop up and snatch the reins from her long since, but none had.  Either none were present, or none wanted to have any part in the abortion that was taking place in this Duchy, for fear that the blame might fall on them.

It wasn't as if her position was in any more jeapordy than usual, after all.

She ducked back into the tent, and listened to the wind whip at the canvas mercilessly, a solid snap with each howling gust.  The snow had already drifted over most of the lower edges of the fabric, so that not much in the way of a draft slipped through.

She went to the table, and looked at the hasty, rudimentary map that had been made for her.  She knew these mountains well, but it gave her a visual focus to make movements easier to track.

The scout had come from the west, in the foothills.  So far, information being brought in matched everything else she had acquired.  She looked at the map and visualized the field of combat as it would inevitably draw itself out.  If she'd had time, she could have set men to building earthen or rock walls that narrowed toward the center of the valley, which would stop men on horseback for so easily breaking the lines and outflanking them, as well as funnel enemy foot as they approached.  A veritable killing field, that.  As it was, she had a pass that was about four hundred feet wide, and barely enough men to make a serried rank two or three deep all the way across it.  Further in, the valley widened more, which made it more difficult to defend from.  There was a narrower pass further back, maybe three or four miles into the mountains but there simply wasn't time to reach it.

The first officer arrived, and then a steady stream of them until there were a dozen of them in the enclosed, relatively warm space.  She turned to look at them, hair damp from melted snow flowing around the long hilt of her sword on her back.  She looked around, her face betraying nothing.  It seldom did.

We're pretty well fucked, she thought, but what she said was: "We have an unknown force approaching from the south and west.  I've known about it for a couple hours, but until about fifteen minutes ago we didn't know the size of this force.  Now we do.  They are large, very large.  Maybe twelve thousand, maybe fifteen - the weather is making it as difficult for us to gather accurate information as it is for them"

A younger man at the back of the room leveled a piercing stare on her.  One of the ones not so happy with their current situation, then.  "There have been no reports of scouts coming in from the lowlands yet...sir.  Our scouts could be wrong."  You could be lying.  She didn't pay any intention to the subtle accusation in the mans tone.  She was used to it.

"Could be, yes.  Are they?  Doubt it.  You know as well as I do that under most commands scouts who pass on erroneous information are summarily executed.  Too many lives depend on them."

"Do we have any information on the composition of this force?  Pike?  Foot?  Horse?  Mage?"  It was an older man, with a balding head that spoke now.  There was a certain level of distaste in his voice when he mentioned the last.  That distaste was mirrored in her heart, but she did not expose that emotion to the world.  "We have no information.  Only a large force.  And as much as I would like to discuss this with you, we also have very little time.  We need to change our formation slightly - the earlier orders need to be thrown out.  Arrange your squads similarly as before, but form a funnel.  I want to force them to encircle themselves, or at least break up their lines when they come at us."

The men in the room nodded, some reluctantly, others much less so.  "And make sure our standard is raised.  I want them to know who is sticking metal in their fucking briskets."

visualspice

As the entire army surged forward, the snow continued to blind, relenting little when they began to squeeze their way through the narrow path. With the Grand Duke's flags flapping proudly, if even a bit frosted, Krah continued to push forward like a wild boar, wearing that glinting, bull-horned helmet he was famous for as the grounds shook as they tore forward towards their unknown foe.
CHECK OUT MY LATEST SITE EVENT!
The Never King- a king erased from history because of his dabblings in dark magic (among other things...) suddenly because a present day problem when an unlikely group of adventurers 'awakens' him from the grave. You can read more about the event on the plotting page here and information page here!

I ran the Connlaothian civil war. For more info, check out it's page here. The war has now turned into a 'Cold War' with it's plotting page found here. It's no longer a huge site wide event but the scars are there.

My currently active characters:
Grand Duke Calent Allarrick // Aella Coleridge // Blaith Harmond // Kella Harmond  // Hope Allarrick // Krah Mordeth // Mehtwald Allaen // Zannrick Austengarde // Katahnia Harmond // Jinai Rinstgate  // Leif Arrant // Dekka Blade  // Kentamin Dhelsbar  // Dahnny Quills  // Victoria Armani  // Ohna Waitsmith  // Jarrett L'isson  // Trest Arristaire  // Clayton "Jack-in-the-Box" Wilson // Cullen  //  Vels // Shay // Killian  // Fluke  // Mellesta // Danning // Petrin // Gavriella // Dornsley // Miersck // Aelith // Iyla // Angel // Ellarrah // Persea Ah'nikh // Phone // Jace // Ne'friss // Opus Dey // Lord Amalin // Ehvren // Narophne // Edward // Dehzrehn // Chase Vander // Valeska // Jayo //Layana // Rezvek // Red Sun // Harmanaija // Mirajah // Liana // Oska //Hay-gee // Beatrice // Ninn // Dao'bachpa //Pao'orha // Mae'leena // Davishire // Davina// Gemla // Hyathia //Thethysis // Urd // Missendria // Ina-herit // Feni'tat // Phen // Evelyn // Kell // Striker // Ithica // Connor // Vlint // The Gambler // Lord Aegis // Thomas // Quince // Althea // Vaeyna // Ihlsepar Asawa'eht // Krazxick // Djchastese // Katoma // Na'o // Moonlight // Bluesong //Caollette // Artemis // Arrick // Evetta //Jackal // Winston //Lenny // Anphis // Hebara //Ibra // Dre'hn // Veride // Arthund // Kao

Aeyliea

It began.  She had left the tent as soon as her command staff, such as it was.  Out in the cold, the wind numbing her face and flesh even as she moved through it.  She moved through the rear of the camp, seeking as high a vantage as she could find behind the safety of their lines.  As she moved, she heard the roar of thousands of men crying out in unison, the jubilant cry of the victor who knows they've won even before the first bleed has stained the cold snow pink.

There was no answering call from her soldiers at first, but it came slowly.  Defiance, defiance in the face of death.  It would have warmed her soul, at one point of her life.  For now, it was only right and proper - 'twas better to die on your feet as a man than on your knees as a slave.

She reached a rise, a bluff that granted a slightly better view.  It was grim.

---------

Astor had been a soldier for the Duchy since he was fifteen - the onus of responsibility.  He supported Duke Buttswick, and he supported the Grand Duke, though in truth the later was a vague face a long ways away, a idea to wrap his head around and little more.

The woman had sent him here, guarding A hundred or so of the surviving archers from the capitol.  He had been charged to let no enemy outflank them from the south - to the west, a line of pike and foot stood at the base of the slope, providing a far better wall.  To the north, nothing - and no enemy to contend with.

"Archers, ready!"  It was a call that managed to cut through the shrieking wind, but it was nothing to do with him.  The archers had their own staff sergeant commanding them, and despite his lack of experience with the bow and arrow, he knew that a hundred men had nocked arrows, holding their bows down and arrows at the ready.  In front of him, through the billowing snow that sometimes cleared just enough to allow a glimps of men moving be seen, men in their uncountable numbers surged forward.  They were not in formation, which wasn't surprising considering how heavily they outnumbered their ragtag rabble.

"Archers, draw!"

For a moment, he wondered why he was following her orders.  And then he was simply hoping that she knew what she was about, as so many of the others seemed to believe.

------

Vicarian steadied his shield, though in truth his innards were twisting.  It was the fear that preceded contact, and it was enhanced greatly by the sheer unknown.  They did not truly know what they faced - there might, even, be mages amongst those men bearing down on them.

To his left an right were shieldmates, holding the line together.  Behind them, pikemen had leveled their spears between the heads of the men holding the shields, who were themselves holding short swords in hand.

Waiting.  Waiting for the blood to come.  They didn't have long to wait.

The snow swirled, billowing, and allowed an image of armored hooligans through.  A hundred yards, no less, and charging forward in a screaming mass, drunk on bloodlust.

-----

Davod had been a scout his entire life.

He had served Duke Buttswick since he had been in his mid-twenties, helping secure the border against Hyolite and providing the information they had needed to keep the citizens of Connlaoth safe.  And he had served with and under their current commander.   She did know what she was doing, he knew from experience, though there were few that would ever admit such aloud.

War was not woman's work.  But if any woman was going to do the job, than at least they had been saddled with one who was not only willing to do the job, but more than capable of it.

He rode hard.  His horse was blown, and the sweat lathering its flanks had frozen to frost in places.  His one flesh had been frostbitten in his hellbent ride to run ahead of the army now attacking their position.

Not an enemy army.  Reinforcement from the Grand Duke itself, it would seem, though whoever was leading it hadn't bothered to verify the allegiance of the force it was attacking before committing to the assault.

He only hoped he would be in time to stop the bloodshed, but feared it would be too late.

-----

"Loose!"

Despite thew wind, the volley flew as true as it could, arching out into the aching white, rising, rising and skewing to pull of the wind.

Dropping in a black rain that was soon lost in the obscuring snow.

Astor said a pray to those about to die.

----

Contact.

The weight of men piling up on themselves from opposite the shieldwall built with terrifying speed.  The wall held - buckled a little, but held.  Men screamed, filling the air with rage, with bloodlust, with fear.  Steel rang on steel, spears driving home into men's throats, faces, bodies.

And still they came.

----

She watched.  At this point, there was little she could do other than to direct reserve forces into areas that were weakening, threatening to fail and fall.  She had precious few resources to draw on for this purpose though, but she made do with what she had.  For now, they held, but she didn't know how long they could hold out against an all-out assault, such as her enemy commander seemed determined to carry out.

The only consolation was that his casualties would be horrific before he could break her lines, and even breaking her lines would probably not defeat her, for she could fight a retreating battle for a few days.  Probably.

"Sir!  Sir, a scout has just arrived.  He is demanding to see you immediately."  She turned, and saw a soldier from one of the reserve forces leading a bedraggled man who was limping and swaying from side to side as he went.  She said nothing; a scout with an urgent message was too important to dismiss out of hand.

The man came closer, the wind catching his cloak.  It was his face she recognized - a logn time campaigner, one whom she had dealt with in the past.  A name did not come to her.

"Sir!  We need to disengage!  Now!  These are reinforcements from the Grand Duke, sent to our aid....I have seen His Grace' banners flying amidst the press!"  His voice was hoarse, but she understood it well enough.  She didn't waste any time on thought at that point.

"Gett his man someplace where he can rest.  But first put out the order - pull back, retreat to positions where you can defend yourself.  Send someone out there with a flag of parlay, so we can at least stop this bloodshed before it gets out of hand.  Have the men stand down!'  The aide nodded, and bustled off.  She herself broke into a trot, heading straight for the lines in defiance of every convention in the book.

This had to be stopped, and now!

visualspice

As with any wild animal, once the bull came charging , there was nothing that could stand in it's way. Remaining at the fore front, he basked in the glorifying shouts of battle, and let that be the base of his power as he charged forward on his horse and let loose. The first man lost his head, hot blood splattering the snow. The second he cut to the ground ashis enemy screamed. And after about a dozen men were dead from his hands, he pushed forward, not realizing that as he did so, the opposing men were getting the call to fall back.
CHECK OUT MY LATEST SITE EVENT!
The Never King- a king erased from history because of his dabblings in dark magic (among other things...) suddenly because a present day problem when an unlikely group of adventurers 'awakens' him from the grave. You can read more about the event on the plotting page here and information page here!

I ran the Connlaothian civil war. For more info, check out it's page here. The war has now turned into a 'Cold War' with it's plotting page found here. It's no longer a huge site wide event but the scars are there.

My currently active characters:
Grand Duke Calent Allarrick // Aella Coleridge // Blaith Harmond // Kella Harmond  // Hope Allarrick // Krah Mordeth // Mehtwald Allaen // Zannrick Austengarde // Katahnia Harmond // Jinai Rinstgate  // Leif Arrant // Dekka Blade  // Kentamin Dhelsbar  // Dahnny Quills  // Victoria Armani  // Ohna Waitsmith  // Jarrett L'isson  // Trest Arristaire  // Clayton "Jack-in-the-Box" Wilson // Cullen  //  Vels // Shay // Killian  // Fluke  // Mellesta // Danning // Petrin // Gavriella // Dornsley // Miersck // Aelith // Iyla // Angel // Ellarrah // Persea Ah'nikh // Phone // Jace // Ne'friss // Opus Dey // Lord Amalin // Ehvren // Narophne // Edward // Dehzrehn // Chase Vander // Valeska // Jayo //Layana // Rezvek // Red Sun // Harmanaija // Mirajah // Liana // Oska //Hay-gee // Beatrice // Ninn // Dao'bachpa //Pao'orha // Mae'leena // Davishire // Davina// Gemla // Hyathia //Thethysis // Urd // Missendria // Ina-herit // Feni'tat // Phen // Evelyn // Kell // Striker // Ithica // Connor // Vlint // The Gambler // Lord Aegis // Thomas // Quince // Althea // Vaeyna // Ihlsepar Asawa'eht // Krazxick // Djchastese // Katoma // Na'o // Moonlight // Bluesong //Caollette // Artemis // Arrick // Evetta //Jackal // Winston //Lenny // Anphis // Hebara //Ibra // Dre'hn // Veride // Arthund // Kao

Aeyliea

The contingent consisted of an officer bearing the white flag of parley, and two other soldiers bearing the banners of the Duchy of Ajhfeld and the Grand Duke himself.  All three were mounted on one of the horses they had managed to salvage from the slaughter to the south.

They passed through a point in the line, but theirs was a doomed mission from the start - their enemy was fully committed to the charge.  They never even had a chance.

----

And she herself gathered a coterie of followers as she strode forward toward the lines, a quick pace that did not fall far short of a jog.  She could not be seen to be running anymore than she could afford to show fear.  Morale was important, and even if the majority of the people following her did not particularly like the idea, she at least owed it to them to do the job right.

She turned to a soldier to her left, a bannerman used to command of smaller groups of men.  Much as she had been.  She nodded to him.  "Make your way to the archers on the west slope.  Try and stop them from slaughtering these idiots if you can.  I do not mean for you to throw their lives away or your own, for that matter."  She paused long enough to look over the field, and shook her head.  "WHoever is at the heart of this nightmare can pay the price for it with their own head.  Kill if you have to, but try to avoid it."

Horses screamed loud; the wind was suddenly dying down drastically and the swirling snow was lessening.  It still fell at a solid pace, enough to obscure anything more than a hundred feet away.  With the shift in the wind, the sharp scent of fresh blood struck her in the face like a hard swung hand, that and the smell of offal split and spilling fluid and worse onto the powdery white that was already turning into a muddy mess.  Through the shifting screen of snow, she could see the enemy cavalry charging the pike-line, horses and men alike impaled on that grisly bristling wall.  Those who fell and rose to fight more were cut down by the men behind the shields, efficient work.  It wasn't enough, of course.  Before her eyes, to the right of center, the line began to bulge and buckle, the pressure of men slowly overrunning the defenders.  There were no reserves to throw into the opening breach, and there was not time to order them there in any case.

In moments, horses crashed through and split the line, and behind the horse came men on foot with swords and other weapons.  She saw an officer of the line trying to rally the men go down to a sword thrust, even from this distance, and watched as the right sided of the line curled back in on itself, retaining the shield wall by bending it in towards the slope of the mountain.  The left side did likewise, opening a passage down the middle of the valley where the enemy could now run headlong.  Arrows slashed into their flanks as they changed direction to pursue the defenders.

She moved forward.  There were small knots of men fighting in the open, those who had been unable to make it to the safety of the wall.  They fought in groups of twenty or thirty, formed into cirlces with shields and pikes raised in defense.

She moved towards one, and towards another group of the enemy.

--------

He batted aside a sword and then thrust his own blade forward, succeeding finally in finding the gap between breastplate and helm.  His blade slipped into the attacker's throat, and blood spurted underneath the metal as the stricken man dropped his weapon and sliced his own hands trying to grip the blade even then being pulled from his flesh.  Astor placed a booted foot on his chest, and kicked him backwards, down the slope and into a dozen other advancing men who stumbled and fell.  Those who got up too quickly found lethal barbed shafts sprouting from their flesh, screaming in pain as they either went down or pressed on through sheer force of will.  And adrenaline.

He felt something punch him in the chest, and looked down to find a spear sticking through his armor.  Even as he watched, the attacker pulled it free and readied himself to strike again.  Unable to feel the pain of the hit yet, he darted forward, slashing viciously as he went.  The spearman's arm fell to the snow, still clutching the spear in his severed hand.  A moment later Astor had slammed his blade through the leather armor of his foe, piercing his heart.

The pain started then, and the hot feeling of blood washing down his chest and bubbling in his lungs as he drew breath.

But he fought on.

-----

This wasn't his first dance.

Alister had fought on the border between Connlaoth and Hyolite for more than a decade, serving in various companies and squads entrusted with maintaining the peace for the common folk who chose the frontier for their home.  He had worked with and under their current commander, and despite what she was had a deeply ingrained respect and trust for her abilities.  Even now, as he used one of the tactics she had trained her own command in.

Him and thirty others fought amidst a sea of foes, shields locked in a ring with pikes in the middle.  They were the gods of judgement, and any enemy who came to close they struck down with sword or spear, whichever was handier.  Already a ring of corpses surrounded their group.  It was dirty, hot work - the chill did not touch them, and in fact they all sweated as if it were the heat of summer, inthe desert.

It was not without its casualties, of course.  War never was.  Jake, he would never fondle another girl in the taverns again.  An enemy arrow had spitted him like a chicken over the fire, and he lay eternally still, inside the circle of his friends and comrades.  Nathaniel would never stir again, either - the two of them had been through three or four campaigns.  A sword to the throat had ended any hope of future campaigns.

There was no time to mourn the lost.  There was only time to fight, fight untilk exhaustion threatened to overwhelm, and then keep fighting anyway.

-----

She reached behind her back.

She hadn't wanted to do this, but she had watched with her own eyes as these idiots had cut down men on a mission of peace, trying to avert more bloodshed.  Under a white flag, and their their own damned banners flying, they had been cut down, show no quarter.

Well, that was fucking fine.  This mess wouldn't end up on her head, that was for absolute certain.  However, anyone who wanted to try to treat her like an enemy of the state would find short shrift.  And worse.

There was a man riding in the company of soldiers, or more like leading a company of soldiers on foot.  She watched as he cut a defensive circle apart with far too much glee, and her already neutral features went flat as a planed board.  She drew her weapon then, twisting it in the sheath to release it, and felt the comforting weight of the blade hit her arms.  It was almost as long as she was with the hilt included, which was a solid foot by itself.  Slightly curved, sharp on their edge.

She had barely cleared the sheath when the first of that particular group reached her; she parried his sword cut with contemptuous ease, knocking it aside and moving forward with the fluid grace of a dancer, dropping her blade low as his went wide and cutting through leather and flesh at his midriff.  Blood splashed, but she didn't bother with any further attack, moving forward into the next in line, parrying his own attack, and then the lightning quick second.

His head ended up on the cold, bloody snow.  She moved on, carelessly slaying anything that even came close to her with any intent at all of fighting.  "Stop you bloody fools!  You're killing or own Gods damned men!  STOP!"  And making me do likewise.  Better you dead than me, though.

visualspice

OOC: Nice post ^_^

-------

The men who fell were nameless to him, and would be forgotten as the snow come spring. But this was what he lived for, this is what he adored, and the clashing of blades was enough to make him laugh. Another battle to raise his fame. He would be invincible- perhaps the cruel savior of these people, but in the end- all he cared about was the money, the stories, and if he were to get laid.

So he cut down men like saplings, not wincing nor giving them any sort of chance. And his horse's breath beneath him came out in streams of white smoke, as if the beast were fueled by fire- perhaps the fire's of hell.

Though the deeper into chaos he went, he felt an arrow ping off his helmet, sending it askew. The noise served to irritate him, and forced his head in the direction that a graceful soldier caught his eye-
a graceful soldier killing his men

Gripping onto his blade, he dug his heels into his beast and the horse tore forward, and he readied his blade to cut this unknown soldier down.

Just another casualty of the war they'd be. Another notch of blood to his post.
But it was all for glory. It was all for the God of War.

OOC: the unknown soldier is her, just fyi ^_^ he just wouldn't know that and wouldn't know she's a woman and all that jazz but yeah <3 hope this scenario works. :D Should be fun to see those two fight >D
CHECK OUT MY LATEST SITE EVENT!
The Never King- a king erased from history because of his dabblings in dark magic (among other things...) suddenly because a present day problem when an unlikely group of adventurers 'awakens' him from the grave. You can read more about the event on the plotting page here and information page here!

I ran the Connlaothian civil war. For more info, check out it's page here. The war has now turned into a 'Cold War' with it's plotting page found here. It's no longer a huge site wide event but the scars are there.

My currently active characters:
Grand Duke Calent Allarrick // Aella Coleridge // Blaith Harmond // Kella Harmond  // Hope Allarrick // Krah Mordeth // Mehtwald Allaen // Zannrick Austengarde // Katahnia Harmond // Jinai Rinstgate  // Leif Arrant // Dekka Blade  // Kentamin Dhelsbar  // Dahnny Quills  // Victoria Armani  // Ohna Waitsmith  // Jarrett L'isson  // Trest Arristaire  // Clayton "Jack-in-the-Box" Wilson // Cullen  //  Vels // Shay // Killian  // Fluke  // Mellesta // Danning // Petrin // Gavriella // Dornsley // Miersck // Aelith // Iyla // Angel // Ellarrah // Persea Ah'nikh // Phone // Jace // Ne'friss // Opus Dey // Lord Amalin // Ehvren // Narophne // Edward // Dehzrehn // Chase Vander // Valeska // Jayo //Layana // Rezvek // Red Sun // Harmanaija // Mirajah // Liana // Oska //Hay-gee // Beatrice // Ninn // Dao'bachpa //Pao'orha // Mae'leena // Davishire // Davina// Gemla // Hyathia //Thethysis // Urd // Missendria // Ina-herit // Feni'tat // Phen // Evelyn // Kell // Striker // Ithica // Connor // Vlint // The Gambler // Lord Aegis // Thomas // Quince // Althea // Vaeyna // Ihlsepar Asawa'eht // Krazxick // Djchastese // Katoma // Na'o // Moonlight // Bluesong //Caollette // Artemis // Arrick // Evetta //Jackal // Winston //Lenny // Anphis // Hebara //Ibra // Dre'hn // Veride // Arthund // Kao

Aeyliea

She was born for this.

It was the shame of her parents to have borne and raised a warlike child of the wrong sex, but nothing they had ever done had been able to bleed the warrior from her.  He scent of blood on the air, the blood pounding in her ears.  The cold wind that did not touch her body, which was already beginning to develope a thin sheen of sweat from exertion, as she gracefully spun between two soldier, knocking one blade aside with her own as she ducked and canted her body at an odd angle, avoiding a hard swung sword by the breadth of a hair.  She completed the acrobatic feet by sweeping her left foot wide, sweeping the legs out of the one that had come so close, dipping her blade low as she spun and clipping the fellow just below his chin.  His gurgling scream was followed by the clash of steel as she deflected a second stroke from the first man, all part of the same graceful movement.  Her left foot grounded and she stepped left and back, deflecting one more strike.  And then she launched into a series of half a dozen light cuts and thrusts at blinding speed, forcing the soldier to step back, and then again before her speed told the tale.  One final parry, then a wicked stab to the chest that failed to penetrate his armor.  It did leave him off balance, and the next thrust went in to the side of his groin throuh the gap in his armor.  Blood spurted as she drew the blade, the femoral artery cleanly severed.

It was that sixth sense that any career soldier gains and hones unconsciously that saved her.  She looked up and saw a charger bearing down on her fast and hot, its rider wearing full armor with ridiculously horned helmet rattleing on his head.  She had ceased calling for an end to the hostilities;  the enemy would not back down or disengage.  As this new threat approaches, cutting down another of her men, she wondered where these fools had stashed their commander.

She noted that while the rider had seen to their own protection quite thoroughly, they had neglected to provide their mount with barding or armor of any kind.  In the final moment before contact, she let a predatory grin cross her features.

She rolled.  His blade hissed through the air like a swooping falcon, but found only air.  Her long hair whipped as she spun in the ground, coming up on her knees with her sword already flying with all of her strength and weight behind it.

Into the unprotected knees of the horse.  There was a violent, joint wrenching shock as the hard swung blade hit the swift moving horse, but the animal never had a chance.  She sheered one leg completely off through the knee, and left the second leg barely attached by sinew and muscle.  She immediately was up on her feet, arms and hands throbbing from the attack, spinning and dropping another man as she turned to rush the horseman, who was clearly some kind of officer.

visualspice

And so the horse went down, the cry shrill and deafening as it mixed with the cries of war. Krah, not a man to scream, even if the face of pain, was thrown violently to the ground. And despite the thick layers of snow- it stung, and more than just his pride. Were it not for his helmet, he could have cracked his head clean open, for here- sharp rocks were hidden beneath deep drifts of snow. But even to hit one's head with protection did not stop him from becoming dizzied.

The moment jarred him only briefly, his body, adapt to battles- and of war. Large hands gripped into the snow and pushed himself from it, and whatever caked onto his body began to fall off, though some still gripped to his scruffed beard, and the wild locks of hair that were freed from his helmet that now sat, partially askew as he got to his feet.

He was a hulking form- armor or not, for most men of this country were nearly a foot smaller than he. And his muscles were intense, for he took pride in that- so it was no surprise how he was able to get such a reputation. Though his actions spoke louder than words.

When his ears began to stop ringing, he halted his attempts to shake it away, and soon his dark eyes were cleaving the grounds- and once he spotted the warrior near his downed and dying horse, which writhed wildly about within the snow, creating a flattened area coated in it's blood, he wasted no time reaching for his weapon.

And no warning would be given as his long strides carried him over to her, and he aimed his thick blade to split her head in two.
CHECK OUT MY LATEST SITE EVENT!
The Never King- a king erased from history because of his dabblings in dark magic (among other things...) suddenly because a present day problem when an unlikely group of adventurers 'awakens' him from the grave. You can read more about the event on the plotting page here and information page here!

I ran the Connlaothian civil war. For more info, check out it's page here. The war has now turned into a 'Cold War' with it's plotting page found here. It's no longer a huge site wide event but the scars are there.

My currently active characters:
Grand Duke Calent Allarrick // Aella Coleridge // Blaith Harmond // Kella Harmond  // Hope Allarrick // Krah Mordeth // Mehtwald Allaen // Zannrick Austengarde // Katahnia Harmond // Jinai Rinstgate  // Leif Arrant // Dekka Blade  // Kentamin Dhelsbar  // Dahnny Quills  // Victoria Armani  // Ohna Waitsmith  // Jarrett L'isson  // Trest Arristaire  // Clayton "Jack-in-the-Box" Wilson // Cullen  //  Vels // Shay // Killian  // Fluke  // Mellesta // Danning // Petrin // Gavriella // Dornsley // Miersck // Aelith // Iyla // Angel // Ellarrah // Persea Ah'nikh // Phone // Jace // Ne'friss // Opus Dey // Lord Amalin // Ehvren // Narophne // Edward // Dehzrehn // Chase Vander // Valeska // Jayo //Layana // Rezvek // Red Sun // Harmanaija // Mirajah // Liana // Oska //Hay-gee // Beatrice // Ninn // Dao'bachpa //Pao'orha // Mae'leena // Davishire // Davina// Gemla // Hyathia //Thethysis // Urd // Missendria // Ina-herit // Feni'tat // Phen // Evelyn // Kell // Striker // Ithica // Connor // Vlint // The Gambler // Lord Aegis // Thomas // Quince // Althea // Vaeyna // Ihlsepar Asawa'eht // Krazxick // Djchastese // Katoma // Na'o // Moonlight // Bluesong //Caollette // Artemis // Arrick // Evetta //Jackal // Winston //Lenny // Anphis // Hebara //Ibra // Dre'hn // Veride // Arthund // Kao

Aeyliea

Another pair impeded her assault on the horseman, and provided a moment or two of diversion for the man to regain his bearings and press his own attack.  She dispatched both of the fools swiftly, relying on speed rather than strength, skill rather than brute force.

And experience, and the sublte, often ill-understood mechanics of a soldier's mind.  She sensed the threat before it was too late, and smoothly sidestepped a blow that should have cleaved her from crown to crotch.  The force of the swing threw snow and ice like a rock dropped into a pond would throw water.  She would have killed him right then and there, while his balance was still off from that idiotic overhand swing, except the dark Gods apparently favored the fool.  Another soldier, seeing her avoid the killing blow and likely having watched her unhorse the buffoon, darted in with a pair of lightning quick thrusts.  She batted the first aside and contorted her body awkwardly to avoid the first, and then lunged at the attacker, running him through while he was recovering from the second attack.  She withdrew the blade as quickly, spinning to deflect another savage attack from whoever it was she had set on the ground.

"You damned bloody fool!  You're fighting the wrong damn army!  Either that, or you are flying the Grand Dukes colors falsely, in which case I will enjoy gutting you like a fat carp and cutting your men to pieces."  She turned another blow, the force numbing her hands and rattling her bones.  A brute that relied on strength, and if she knew the kind, had little real skill beyond overwhelming a foe.

She launched into a series of attacks that did not quite come near the limit of her speed or skill, testing his ability while she herself still sought to carve him like a turkey.

----

The survivors were withdrawing up the hills, now, leaving a mingled mass of their own dead and the fallen of the attacker in their wake.  The casualties were not nearly as one sided as they should have been, given the disparity in strength - three of Krah's fell for every two of Aeyliea's, though it was beginning to shift more in Aeyliea's favor as the attackers found themselves trying to take high ground from an enemy that was not even remotely ready to give it up.

Ultimately, though, they would have to do far better than that to avoid total defeat.

The armies fought on, oblivious to the commanders engaged with one another on the field below.

visualspice

OOC: I hope this post makes sense and also WARNING; Krah's language can be um... foul at times :|
I'm getting over being sick (well still sick) and not fully awake but I wanted to try to get a posty out for you! So don't hesitate to PM me if something doens't make sense or to let me know if I need to edit anything x.x

-----

What a turn of events! Never would he think to find himself doing battle with a female commander of any kind. Sure, he knew the Knights of the White Lily were all women, but they were of little consequence to him. This, he easily deduced, was no Lily, and more so over, the fact she was calling him out on possibly being the traitor here actually made him laugh.

It was perhaps this reason that had him holding back from a second attack that would surely cleave her in two (since he was normally intent on carrying out his desires, one way or another. Just one swing sometimes took two... or in some cases, more.)

His laughter came out in bursts of white smoke from his lips, and as her sword came forward, sparks flew out as he used his broad sword as a shied, so each cut and thrust of her weapon was met by the length of his blade, which was quick to follow her moves. Though he was hardly as fast as she with her dainty sword, his own did it's damnedest and kept her swift cuts at bay.

But the sound of her blade smacking off of his was like music to his ear, and when he felt he had enough, he pushed forward in one hard strike to send her back.

"And you expect me to believe you? What a laugh! I'd be a monkey's ass to believe that crock of shit. Maybe if this were a brothel we could play this out a little better, but seeing as your blooding the Grand Duke's land.... I have only one choice but to let yours join with it."
And he gave another strike her way, this one, to hopefully take her off guard, as it was a quick one. He was a fast learner, at least in times of a fight, and saw the way she tried to play up her finesse and speed.

"Pity, you might have looked striking on the brothel floor with my dick in your mouth, or elsewhere." And a devilish, cruel smile split across his lips as he lunged his sword at her again.
"No wonder the men here have fallen. They were probably too enraged to think properly over the idea a woman thinks she can play as a commander!" And at this, he laughed against and this time, gave a heavier strike, this one coming sharp and from his side, with a quick snap of his shoulder flowing through his wrist.
CHECK OUT MY LATEST SITE EVENT!
The Never King- a king erased from history because of his dabblings in dark magic (among other things...) suddenly because a present day problem when an unlikely group of adventurers 'awakens' him from the grave. You can read more about the event on the plotting page here and information page here!

I ran the Connlaothian civil war. For more info, check out it's page here. The war has now turned into a 'Cold War' with it's plotting page found here. It's no longer a huge site wide event but the scars are there.

My currently active characters:
Grand Duke Calent Allarrick // Aella Coleridge // Blaith Harmond // Kella Harmond  // Hope Allarrick // Krah Mordeth // Mehtwald Allaen // Zannrick Austengarde // Katahnia Harmond // Jinai Rinstgate  // Leif Arrant // Dekka Blade  // Kentamin Dhelsbar  // Dahnny Quills  // Victoria Armani  // Ohna Waitsmith  // Jarrett L'isson  // Trest Arristaire  // Clayton "Jack-in-the-Box" Wilson // Cullen  //  Vels // Shay // Killian  // Fluke  // Mellesta // Danning // Petrin // Gavriella // Dornsley // Miersck // Aelith // Iyla // Angel // Ellarrah // Persea Ah'nikh // Phone // Jace // Ne'friss // Opus Dey // Lord Amalin // Ehvren // Narophne // Edward // Dehzrehn // Chase Vander // Valeska // Jayo //Layana // Rezvek // Red Sun // Harmanaija // Mirajah // Liana // Oska //Hay-gee // Beatrice // Ninn // Dao'bachpa //Pao'orha // Mae'leena // Davishire // Davina// Gemla // Hyathia //Thethysis // Urd // Missendria // Ina-herit // Feni'tat // Phen // Evelyn // Kell // Striker // Ithica // Connor // Vlint // The Gambler // Lord Aegis // Thomas // Quince // Althea // Vaeyna // Ihlsepar Asawa'eht // Krazxick // Djchastese // Katoma // Na'o // Moonlight // Bluesong //Caollette // Artemis // Arrick // Evetta //Jackal // Winston //Lenny // Anphis // Hebara //Ibra // Dre'hn // Veride // Arthund // Kao

Aeyliea

A ghost of a smile touched her lips.  If he thought that being vulgar or insulting meant anything to her, then he was dead, dead wrong.  She'd been a soldier for years, and had been the subject of harsher talk than this on a frequent basis.  She did not add to his quips or counter them.

"Then you're just a fucking idiot," she hissed as she turned his quicker strike with barely a check in her own pace or assault.  "Only an idiot assaults an enemy without scouting them out first, and we didn't see a one from your lot.  I had a dozen or better in the field - we knew you were coming, if not allegiance, for several hours.  Several crucial hours."

Because she had given the instructions and given them well.  There was never any way to plan for any contingency in a war, or a single battle, but with a loose set of instructions, she covered most of the bases fairly well.  To the west, the line of her soldiers finally caved and broke, and a rout ensued almost immediately.  Before more than a hundred or so had died, though, the archers - retreating up the slope since the main line had been breached - kicked loose the rocks holding logjams much further up the slope.  Dozens of felled tree trunks rolled down the hill, smashing into the massed ranks of the enemy as they harried her defeated force.  The sound of snapping wood and bone could be heard even from here, the screams of the dying.  It bought enough time to reform a shield line, on ground advantageous to her men, and the killing resumed.

It was a few hundred men she could not afford to lose, but if it had been played out right, it had probably cost this fool twice that number, or maybe more.

ANd then, of course, there was the reserve forces, the ones that had been held back, joining in when the main line was still whole.  A few hundred of them still lay in wait, except now they were preparing to trap the men on the west flank between two forces.  It would be a slaughter to say the least.

"And in any case, you couldn't handle a woman like me.  You, sir, are nowhere near man enough."  She flashed her teeth at him, and then dropped to the ground, lying flat on her back.  She had read the blow in his eyes and reacted before he even began to move, and the wicked blow sailed through thin air, where she should have been.  She lashed out with her legs, intending to, if not trip him, than at least throw him off balance.  As she did this she rolled left, keeping her sword clear to attempt to parry any attack coming in.  In the same motion, she got to her feet, but instead of standing she lunged forward, bringing her sword to bear quickly.

And now she used every ounce of skill and speed she had.  She moved like a striking viper, her weapon little more than an occasional flash of light or a blur of steel.  Most all of her attacks were calculated thrusts that never overextended her reach or balance, and the slashes were of similar stock - quick, short, and well controlled.  Sweat trickled down her chest, between her breasts, her back, and dampened the snowy mane of her hair, but if anything, she was actually quite content now.

"I don't have to play at anything.  I am going to enjoy killing you, though, very much.  Be a good sport and provide me with a little challenge, please."

visualspice

The logs falling and crushing the men might as well have happened in another world. To Krah, this battle- the one against her was the only one that existed in that moment. Though when she went down, he could have swore. It was not anticipated and he felt a kick to his leg. Though he was strong and could have not been affected by such a blow when he was simply standing, in that moment- however, she stroke as his legs were askew, and he found himself suddenly grunting as he fell forward, needing to catch his balance.

He had only a second to breath out a grunt, and cast a smirk at her reaction, though it was clouded behind a puff of breath. And then he was seeing flashes of her weapon and instincts kicked in and he put his gauntlet's up to parry the first few attacks. But by then, he was regaining himself and had his sword again,a nd angrily cut through her rapid fire strikes.

"Nonsense, you just have to give me a chance!" he reassured her, eyes dark, so was his smile. He cracked his muscles and readjusted his wait, dancing away from the woman but moving in a predatory way, encircling her and ...

Realizing, only then, that she had cut him, blood began to trickle down his arm. It was warm and tickled, ad it made him laugh as he lifted the wound to his lips nad licked away the blood.

"Come on, woman, you say you want a challenge, just spread your legs!" And he lunged at her once again.
CHECK OUT MY LATEST SITE EVENT!
The Never King- a king erased from history because of his dabblings in dark magic (among other things...) suddenly because a present day problem when an unlikely group of adventurers 'awakens' him from the grave. You can read more about the event on the plotting page here and information page here!

I ran the Connlaothian civil war. For more info, check out it's page here. The war has now turned into a 'Cold War' with it's plotting page found here. It's no longer a huge site wide event but the scars are there.

My currently active characters:
Grand Duke Calent Allarrick // Aella Coleridge // Blaith Harmond // Kella Harmond  // Hope Allarrick // Krah Mordeth // Mehtwald Allaen // Zannrick Austengarde // Katahnia Harmond // Jinai Rinstgate  // Leif Arrant // Dekka Blade  // Kentamin Dhelsbar  // Dahnny Quills  // Victoria Armani  // Ohna Waitsmith  // Jarrett L'isson  // Trest Arristaire  // Clayton "Jack-in-the-Box" Wilson // Cullen  //  Vels // Shay // Killian  // Fluke  // Mellesta // Danning // Petrin // Gavriella // Dornsley // Miersck // Aelith // Iyla // Angel // Ellarrah // Persea Ah'nikh // Phone // Jace // Ne'friss // Opus Dey // Lord Amalin // Ehvren // Narophne // Edward // Dehzrehn // Chase Vander // Valeska // Jayo //Layana // Rezvek // Red Sun // Harmanaija // Mirajah // Liana // Oska //Hay-gee // Beatrice // Ninn // Dao'bachpa //Pao'orha // Mae'leena // Davishire // Davina// Gemla // Hyathia //Thethysis // Urd // Missendria // Ina-herit // Feni'tat // Phen // Evelyn // Kell // Striker // Ithica // Connor // Vlint // The Gambler // Lord Aegis // Thomas // Quince // Althea // Vaeyna // Ihlsepar Asawa'eht // Krazxick // Djchastese // Katoma // Na'o // Moonlight // Bluesong //Caollette // Artemis // Arrick // Evetta //Jackal // Winston //Lenny // Anphis // Hebara //Ibra // Dre'hn // Veride // Arthund // Kao