Dacara Family/Osgar/Tales of Osgar

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May 30th

The Stand-off in Winifael

Osgar wore his full armour when he was standing outside his tent, looking nervously around. In Winifael they resided, waiting for the giant hordes to move. They seemed to be doing so very randomly, which made the task of the Marshal and Vice Marshal even more difficult than it normally was. He scratched his sturdy beard, something he usually did when he was pondering on some uneasy decisions.

The sun was already high on top as noon passed. Scouts came running in and out, dropping in parchments on a small table, with ink still wet. Their tongues seemed to almost touch the ground; thirst could be read in their eyes. Some of these scouts he already had for years. However, lately, some of his loyal ones did not return. Sometimes a lonely horse returned but sometimes just no word. Hordes seem to have taken a liking to them. Remaining unspotted became a task ever more challenging.

Then suddenly a boy came running towards his quarters, yelling at the same time as holding a parchment. “Sir Osgar! Lord Dacara! Look at this!”

The guards that were stationed outside the pavilions of Osgar stopped the boy and questioned his motives. Osgar was quickly to nod to them and invite the boy inside. It was his newest addition, to replace some of the older ones who either did not return or retired. The guards did not know him yet.

“Sir Osgar, M’Lord, you should see this! Part of the horde in Bessimir is moving out to assault Sandefur. This does not look good, but it does provide an opportunity to weaken those left behind in Bessimir!”

Osgar nodded and went through his beard. He had to act fast and he was tired of waiting. He beckoned his captain, Sevima, to join him and went through the same information with her as he just did with the boy. They agreed and with straight faces, walked out of the tent.

The Lonely Attack on Bessimir

Scribe Note Battle in Bessimir

It was just after noon when Sevima and Osgar rallied the men and spread the word.

“Hear, hear, men in Winifael. I am riding to Bessimir to weaken the remaining hordes; I will try to pick off some of the remainders. Anyone who wished to take on this daring adventure may join me. Unfortunately I could not get the approval of General/Marshal Madeleine, but I am going to take the risk.”

They made their way from the foothills of Winifael through the plains and fields with a rushed speed, trying to reach Bessimir in time for sunset. Not looking back, Osgar hoped to have at least inspired some to join in. The fate of Sandefur was at stake. Perhaps he reacted emotionally but there was no way back.

They reached Bessimir right before sunset and started to get in formation. Unfortunately, it seemed to be only Osgar and his unit to attend the upcoming battle. A sense of fear rushed through their vains, at the sight of the giant Undead Horde. As if the Gods were projecting his feelings, a storm was raging on the field that had multiple burning heaps of .. something. Whatever it was, it stinked. Due to the weather conditions, his unit which solely consisted of Archers, was pretty much worthless.

Osgar was seen strapping on his Brutal Shield, wielding his Cruel Dagger of Waffles and playing the Sickening Flute of Lanya’s Spine, but nothing seemed to help.

The Undead Horde charged forward, while 107 Unchained Bowmen tried aiming and arrows literally flew all over. Only a handful of Undead seemed to be killed. The horde kept on charging and panic became a reality. Fleeing was no option so they kept firing at the Undead who were now so close that they could smell them.

It looked like the battle was over in a blink of the eye, while in fact it lasted two long hours. Osgar and most of his men were done for. The undead raged on to the next village, not caring one way or another that a third of the humans were able to pick themselves up a few hours after they were gone.

Duke Osgar had gambled and lost. Sandefur would be lost to the rogues and there was nothing he could do about it.

He ordered the retreat to Winifael and had to help carrying the wounded.

The Surprise Attack

Scribe Note Battle in Winifael

The road back to Winifael was hard and long. Luckily the storm had passed, just like the storm you had seen in the men’s eyes before battle. Everyone seemed depressed and were, as good as possible, trying to return to Winifael.

There was no word on those that stayed in Winifael, no scout reports of surrounding regions, nothing. The closer he would get to Winifael, the more rumours about another big battle he heard. He didn’t have time to read letters, but apparently some big horde wiped out Winifael as well. The remaining units retreated to Unger to defend the capital.

Osgar and his wounded unit arrived at the plains of Winifael at sunrise, only to see another horde waiting for them. They had to act fast, but only half of his men reported to be fit to face another battle. They looked into possibilities to hide in the forest, but the horde already spotted them, as if they could smell fresh blood and wounds. There was no way around them and this was the shortest route to Unger. To battle!

This time around, barely any wind was present. Archers could aim precisely where they would want their arrows to land. However, since only 14 of the still beaten up unit showed up, hardly any damage could be done to the impressive Undead unit.

As if it was a repeat of yesterday, the rogues charged over them like a knife going through butter. This time around, Osgar took a cut to the shoulder and was struck down, remaining unconscious for a few hours.

The Retreat to Unger

More information and scout reports came in, while the healers were patching up the cut. It was not too serious, but it needed tending too.

Osgar was tired and felt disillusioned after the failure of a campaign. He beckoned Captain Sevima and whispered while shaking his head like he lost an entire war.

“Rally the troops, those that survived. Get us to Unger as fast as possible.”

The future did not look bright. With Sandefur under attack and being taken over by rogues, another City would fall. The hordes entering Thalmarkin lands were nowhere near to be beaten without having walls at your side. Sitting in Unger would be the horrible next plan. Waiting for rogues to crush their dumb heads against our walls.