Westgard/Stand Against Barbarism/Second Campaign

Roleplay from Selena Chenier

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Selena stared out at the empty field. And waited. And waited. And waited. Until scouts came in to be debriefed. "They... fled? All of them?", she said, in a mix of surprise and disappointment. She had held all this anxiety over a battle that, in the end, did not even take place. She sighed and took in a long breath, then took out her bottle of bloodmoon wine. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I didn't finish you off yet", she mumbled, before putting it back. She listened as the scouts gave a summary of their findings, and handed in their written reports. "Mmm. Yes... Very good, thank you", she said as she dismissed them. She stared out into the plains. It wasn't the first time she came here, and apparently, wasn't going to be the last time either. A chilly breeze came in from the seas. Goldenrod and asters were blooming all over. She looked at the list of names, she couldn't help but wonder why these people even cared, why they even bothered to make such a perilous trek. "Easterners", she scoffed. "So they've got themselves a little party going... hmpf. We've defeated hordes 5 times greater than what they've brought here. As if their silly siege engines will do them any good..." She paused again, then turned to return to her tent. "No time for idling", she thought. But just as she was about to leave, she thought she heard something, and made a full stop to listen. Silence. "Huh, I could have sworn I heard Sevastian throwing a tantrum at his peers. Ha, surely I merely imagined it" she told herself, rolling her eyes and scoffing, before moving on.

Selena Chenier

Roleplay from Selena Chenier

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Selena looked at the scout reports. "They... they ran away? What? Where are they? They aren't in Lavendrow, they aren't in Mech Alb, they aren't in Faithill, they aren't in Mech Derris... where are they!?" Then another scout came in. "Oh. Oh..." She paused for a moment. "Yea... that makes more sense." She left her tent to breath in the fresh evening air, gazing at the horizon. "Soon enough", she thought to herself. She stood there for a moment, alone is silence. She preferred not to think of the odds. "What shall be, shall be... win or lose, it's irrelevant. Standing tall and making a stand is what matters." She walked back into her tent, and took out her bottle of bloodmoon wine, put it on the table. Then she walked over to some cages in the back, opened one up, and took a large buff-colored chicken out, which she caressed for a moment. It was so soft. So soothing as it purred in its avian way. Chaos was coming, but it was not yet here. Then she took a deep breath, and walked over to a table. She put the chicken on it, took out an axe, and chopped it head off. She grinned, "well, by my estimates, I still have time for dinner before the battle. Better hurry!"

Selena Chenier

Letter from Beryl Blue

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Ah look. Selena. I'll take you two rounds in the tent and then throw you to my boys like the common tavern wench that you are. Selena C. .. and you aren't much to look at, either. I won't rest until you die. I claim your skull as a drinking cup. And your family as servants. Sleep well Seleeny. For the rest of my existence I will make hunting you my objective. Any world. And time.

Beryl Blue (Knight of Demyansk)

Letter from Beryl Blue

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Excuse me, I should've said: Selena... Ah, who cares. No one's listening.

Beryl Blue (Knight of Demyansk)

Letter from Selena Chenier

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Classy...

Selena Chenier (Supreme Exarch of Westgard, Margravine of Aquitain, Marshal of the Westgard Lightbearers)

Letter from Garimberto Mercator

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Westgardians, It is a shame that we should meet in this manner. You were once the guardians of humanity, now you are their persecutors. Turn from your current path and return to your role as the sentinels of the West. We do not wish to lay your lands to waste, but you have given us little choice in the matter. Join me for a drink and some less.... socially acceptable substances and let us settle our differences and discuss peace. Respectfully,

Garimberto Mercator (Viscount of Elntorak, Marshal of the Star's Light of Sol)

Letter from Selena Chénier (2 days, 23 hours ago) Message sent to all nobles in Demyansk (34 recipients)

We are all masters of our own destinies. We always have the power to choose.

We shall protect the people of the West, whatever hardships that may entail. That is the choice Westgard has collectively made.

Nobody dragged anyone here. All those assembled came of their own accord.

Letter from Garimberto Mercator (2 days, 23 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (34 recipients)

Exarch Chenier,

You protected us from the Monstrous hordes for years and have done so admirably. Yet the moment a new realm appears in your sphere, you attack. There is plenty of land for both realms. I say, it is cause enough for war.

Westgard may choose its path, but it must also bear the consequences.

Respectfully,

Letter from Selena Chénier (2 days, 23 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (34 recipients)

Brutalizing the locals, intentionally starving them out, attempting to corrupt officials, sending numerous assassins, inciting religious hatred, threatening rape...

I never wanted to fight a human realm. But we have only been proven righteous in our actions. Barbarism must be opposed.

Letter from Bennet Selemnir (2 days, 23 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (34 recipients)

Exarch,

I echo the sentiment. It brings me no personal pleasure to bear arms against Westgard. Our ties of friendship have been strong in the past.

But, as you say. Paths diverge. We must follow them where we must.

Best,

Letter from Perdita Esotericus (2 days, 23 hours ago) Message sent to all nobles in Demyansk (34 recipients)

I wish the people of Westguard actually held to their charter of guarding the West from the hordes.

If that was truly what you were doing here then you would find none of us here in this capacity.

If you believe that is still your purpose then you have been sadly misled.

Westguard swore to protect humanity from the hordes of the West.

Today Westguard protects the West from... what, exactly? Humanity? You fight your own species now, instead of Trolls and Orcs?

Ask yourselves why you fight Mankind today, instead of your sworn enemy.

If you ask and answer yourselves truly, then you will find that you fight not for Humanity but only for the purpose of giving your realm the authority to decide who is allowed to fight and live in the West. You fight to be in charge of the entire West. You fight for control over mankind.

You fight for a higher purpose no more. Today Westguard sends its nobles to fight for Power.

Any claim Westguard once had to Noble Purpose is GONE. Washed away in the blood of your fellow man.

Today, you are nothing more than pawns sent to destroy those who seek their own freedoms.

Letter from Beryl Blue (2 days, 23 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (34 recipients)

Oh be quiet. You love fighting humans Seleeny. We were bringing civilization here and you felt a tingle and your rear hurt, and here we are.

Stop lying to yourself Seleeny. You're the only one who believes it.

Letter from Beryl Blue (2 days, 23 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (34 recipients)

Hey Westgard, public service announcement:

Seleeny Chenier and Rosalind Chenier are upset because we didn't ask PERMISSION to settle here.

We were bringing civilization here. A culture that we painstakingly built, and we protected the citizenry once they were under our care. But hey, any excuse to fight humans, right?

If we've been painted as monsters and rapists and thieves, then you've been duped.

If you're here because of.. Springdale and Beluaterra? and some century old hatred... Well then I hope you Westgardians know and believe exactly why Seleeny has launched this invasion.

Because now, YOU are the monsters who have issued the first blow against humanity, after having TOUTED SO PROUDLY that you were protectors.

I hope you're ashamed of yourselves. This really is low of a realm who claims high honor.

Letter from Medrawt Camlann (2 days, 23 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (34 recipients)

I am pleased to welcome the coalition of righteous realms into Demyansk, come to take a stand against the imperialism of Westgard. I look forward to standing by your side as we defend against the naked aggression of the so called "Shield of Humanity" as they fight now against both the armies of the coalition and the peasants they claim to protect, who Westgard have now looted into taking up arms against them.

As has been noted before, Tol Goldora represent the first successful colonisation of the the West since the days of Asylon. The West should be free and open to all, and yet Westgard would covet it all for themselves, displacing others at the first opportunity, willing to scarce their own regions to the rogues in their bloodthirsty zeal. This is now a realm, which feels that it can dictate terms to one and all, which cannot keep its own word.

Westgard believes itself to be above human laws. They made an ultimatum of three days to Goldora to evacuate our rightly claimed lands, before breaking their word and invading Golden Farrow on the second. They accepted arbitration by a panel of this islands's judges on the rightful ownership of Golden Farrow, and ignored it when the panel ruled against them. They then offered a peace agreement to Goldora, only to rescind it after their takeover of Golden Farrow completed.

Whatever that realm once was, is now lost. Perhaps one day it fought against the monsters and undead, and really was a shield of man. A wise man once said that if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. They have fought with beasts for so long, they have turned into beasts themselves.

In arms,

Roleplay from Selena Chénier (2 days, 23 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (34 recipients)

Selena read the last letters and shook her head, sighed, and tossed them aside.

She then cowered on the grass, facing the sun, and mumbled "may there be as little loss of life as possible in the days to come, may as many of these people return home to their loved ones, wherever they be from."

She could be seen praying in this way until sunset.

Battle in Demyansk (2 days, 22 hours ago) Total: 35 attackers (246 Inf, 96 MI, 544 Arch, 222 Cav, 346 SF, 859 other) 8 defenders (441 Arch, 306 SF) Total combat strengths: 23643 vs. 11326

The forces from Westgard brace as they prepare to defend their ongoing takeover. The region owner Tol Goldora and their allies attack the takeover forces. The Luria Nova troops attack because they are at war with Westgard. The Sol troops attack because they are at war with Westgard. The Luria Ferrata troops attack because they are at war with Westgard. The Tol Goldora troops attack because they are at war with Westgard.

A calm wind blows, to the joy of the archers.

Attacker victory!

Huge Battle Fought (2 days, 22 hours ago)

Rumours spread and tales are sung about a huge battle in Demyansk: Luria Ferrata, Luria Nova, Sol, Swordfell, Tol Goldora vs. Westgard Estimated strengths: 2470 men vs. 840 men The Westgard Lightbearers (Westgard), sponsored by Aeon Lady Rosalind Foxglove, were led into battle by Marshal Selena Chénier. The Star's Light of Sol (Sol), sponsored by Royal Mildgyd Barras, were led into battle by Marshal Garimberto Mercator. The Golden Host (Tol Goldora), sponsored by Vestarch Umerith Stromhar, were led into battle by Marshal Emyhr le Craint. Royal Cador Andrasta is spotted wielding the Galiard's Shield of Deception. Royal Cador Andrasta is spotted wielding the Whispering Scythe. Suzerain King Sir Bennet Selemnir is spotted wielding the Battered Shield. Sonya Jimenez, Dame of Gelene was seriously wounded by Adam Kabrinski's unit.

Attacker Victory!

Roleplay from Mastraacht Abjur (2 days, 22 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (37 recipients)

Mastraacht listened to the banter being thrown from one noble to the next with disinterest. Unsheathing his old falx, he put a wetstone to the long blade. Soon enough the killing would begin and the words would be lost in the haze of spilled blood and the buzz of flies around fresh corpses, and the only sound that mattered then was the cries of the wounded and soon-to-be dead.

Roleplay from Anastas Fide (2 days, 21 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (36 recipients)

Such a grand battle, so far from home. The only problem was, this is not at all what Anastas had imagined. The blood and death surrounding him, this is the first time he had killed fellow men. Monsters, all the time, men not at all. There did not seem to be much glory here. Celebrating with his men before battle and all getting very drunk he now looked around and saw 5 of his men dead. Especially devastating, was seeing his friend Henry dead. The man he had got to know so well during the journey and drunk with on so many nights. Across the sea at home his kids and wife were waiting for a father and husband they would never see again. As his men started to go through the bodies of friend and foe he stood there mostly in shock. Hundreds if not thousands of miles from home, across an ocean, this is not what he had pictured. His nights of drunken escapades seemed silly now, in this land of death. Calling his captain he ordered a proper funeral pyre be made for the men not coming home. He went to find the wood himself. Swearing to himself to never take war as fun joke again. The funeral was set for that night. After setting up the pyre he went to call on his fellow nobles. To determine the next steps and apologize for his actions before now. This war surly still has a long way to go

Roleplay from Garimberto Mercator (2 days, 21 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (36 recipients)

Garimberto's shook his head. The battle was decidedly one-sided. He hoped that such a travesty would never happen again.

The Westgardians held the field for as long as the could, but they broke and ran under the onslaught of Luria's cavalry charge. There was nothing a band of archers and special forces could do against hundreds of hooves pounding through their ranks. It was an understandable reaction. In fact, Garimberito was surprised that they held their ground as long as they did.

As the Westgardians fled, many left their weapons and armor laying on the ground. The dead also remained with what equipment wasn't damaged. Garimberto's ordered his men to scrounge what they could. Garimberito didn't join them, as it was far to dirty a task and his clothes were too expensive to ruin with mud.

Once his men returned, heartened after the battle, he ordered them to hunt the fleeing Westgardians. It was not a task he relished for his men, but it was incredibly important that as many enemies be captured or killed before they rallied.

This was a sad day indeed.

Letter from Selena Chénier (2 days, 21 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (36 recipients)

So much senseless death...

I hope you have found what you came looking for, Legatus. For what it's worth, your coalition fought well, exceeded my expectations. Impeccable movement, despite earlier deviance. You would be right to be proud.

If only all of these resources were there to fight the monsters, instead...

Such shameful loss... An unfortunate battle in what is likely to be a very long series of unfortunate battles. I weep for all those who have died today, on all sides of the field, but my resolve did not weaken. Opposing Tol Goldora was righteous. And we shall continue to oppose Tol Goldora for as long as they show themselves to be unreasonable and vile.

All of this... all of this death and suffering, just to protect one nation's right to commit genocide and wanton rape..

Letter from Sevastian Schwarzherzig (2 days, 20 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (36 recipients)

You cry out against needless death Exarch, but every man who died here today was your own doing. You brought war to these lands. You were the ones who in your greed brought death to these lands. There is no righteousness in your cause, only lust. Lust for the lands of another. You who have Too Goldura 72 hours to resettle, and declared war before that time was up. You who in your arrogance would proclaim yourselves master's of these lands above all others.

Your own lands are falling into the hands of the beasts. The "Shield of Humamity" is rent. Torn asunder by your greed and blind ambition. Rotted and rusted by your deluded narrative. Tol Goldura will be a shining beacon of civilization brought to these lands. Westgard can learn to accept that, or it can learn to accept a boot upon its throat. What you see here is a fraction of the armies of the Empire. We sent a handful of volunteers to oppose you.

The West may be masters of killing disorganized hordes of unthinking beasts, but in the East, our opponents have cunning and resources. At the end of the day, Westgard has been fighting what can be described as slightly more violent cattle. Easily panicked, and incapable of the higher thoughts of man.

Leave these lands, and beg mercy, and you will recieve it. Continue to resist, and the losses you have wrought upon yourselves will seem minute in comparison. Our resolve is unbreakable, and we will not allow Westgard to continue to pretend it is law unto itself, free to act as it pleases without consquence.

WESTGARD, look to your Exarch now, and see the ruin she has brought you. This is a taste of what will come as long as you follow her madness. Rid yourselves of this rabid dog, who a mere day ago was only to happy to fill the general's channel with taunts and boasts. You will all choke to death on her words.

The world now knows: Westgard bleeds, and their blood is thin.

Roleplay from Kiran Mir-Ashtan (2 days, 20 hours ago) Message sent to all nobles in Demyansk (36 recipients)

Battle was not something that drove, Kiran though it may have been the way his family had previously made their existence prior to being able to attain an estate. He had a twenty-seven strong cavalry retinue alongside him and knew very well it was likely to be a devastating battle for himself and his forces. He did not expect to be bringing many of his mercenaries out of this one and had thusly paid them handsomely for the risk and danger that could be inflicted on the battlefield that coming evening.

The day would be spent keeping the horse's reasonably fresh, it was to be Kiran's first proper battle commanding cavalry. Though he had spent time researching the art of cavalry, you needed risk to truly grow but with risk came caskets. Spending much of the day dispatching missive's by scouts of reports and information, they had successfully gathered while being able to gain intelligence by remaining the only coalition forces within the Demyansk region before the sunrise. Kiran hoped it would give them an advantage that they needed to outplay the Westgardian field tactics. Captain Ernst would hopefully gain experience but Kiran had hoped he would be able to spend more time in training with the retinue before this day. Ernst was inexperienced and a battle of this scale was to be a new thing even for Kiran.

It would be as the sun set that Kiran would go to battle with these men. Adorning armour that wouldn't in truth appear truly "noble" a mixture of chain and scalemail, monster leather, hide and bone. In truth, any material that could be used to form protection, rather than indulging his gold in magical equipment. Kiran had sought knowledge as at least in his view knowledge was the greatest weapon one could have. One could only hope that the horse's would remain calm come the battle after all by nature they were skittish creatures....

Night would roll closer, the mercenaries would spend there time entertaining themselves from gambling to whores and more. Kiran, however racked his brain due to his strategic opinions as he tried to decide the best course of action for getting his men out alive this day, as well as being rather disappointed with the missives that seemed to end up in every camp of the nobles of many a faction belittling each other.

...

The sun would fade on the horizon and the last embers of the light would bring their battle. It seemed as the gathered their forces across from each other than the peasantry of Demyansk had come to fight banding rough militia to fight their Westgardian occupiers. This at least would aid with the density of forces of which they would need to face this day, but Kiran silently despaired about the loss of life that would be caused. If only the Westgardian's hadn't succumbed to the greed of gold, they claimed a moral high ground but they seemed silent with the Zuma Coalition's vigorous and sometimes bloody advance across territory of the west.

The horns of war would sound as human and horse would move across the battlefield. Arrows, bolts and all manner of projectiles would begin to swiftly begin to fill the sky from both sides as the Coalition moved upon the dug in positions of the Westgardian forces. It wouldn't be long before the cavalry committed to their final charge three retinue's together with the sole focus of crushing underfoot the dig outs of the Westgardians.

The strikes of blade and hooves were swift and the screams of man filled the air, it was shortly however filled by the screams of horses as Kiran found his retinue and himself swiftly entangled within the mass of Westgardian soldiers and the weakness of the horse was getting entangled. Kiran found himself swiftly dismounted alongside the thin lines that made up his twenty-seven cavalrymen as they were swiftly dismounted as horse's had their legs cut from under them or dropped from their flanks being filled with the tips of missile weapons. It swiftly came down to man to man as they found themselves scattered among enemy lines encased within the enemies fortified position.

Now their was only one job to do and that was survive.....

Roleplay from Kiran Mir-Ashtan (2 days, 19 hours ago) Message sent to all nobles in Demyansk (36 recipients)

The Sunset War of Demyansk - Part 2

Tattered Luria Novan Heraldry scattered across his crumbled horse now covered in coatings of mud, the creature had already breathed its last. As Kiran quickly ruffled himself to his feet, he sort of hoped that his rag-tag armour would at least avoid him drawing the attention of any Westgardian soldier's that intended to take noble captives but he duly hoped that he would not be bowed or cut down by coalition forces in the chaos of the melee.

Kiran had employed a shield on his right arm this day, it was a smaller shield strapped onto his arm in two places once at the wrist and another before the elbow around ten to fourteen inches wide and off centred with around sixteen inches in length, he had been focusing on improving his ability to fight with either hand should he be forced to fight his way up a tower or to lose the use of either of his hands in combat. Kiran would employ whatever weapons that he could acquire scattered across the corpses as he fought through man and mud to find any of his scattered retinue. Though he would not reject any coalition forces that he could at least find still in fighting shape in the mess of this mud.

Tearing the remnants of his Novan Banner from his horse and quickly tying it off on his left arm, gripping a baselard in his shield hand and in his main hand retrieving a mace from the mud. Kiran would employ his training as he picked engagements to join or rather soldiers to aid as he would expend weapons in combat. Choosing to bury the mace with full force into the engaged back of a armoured westgardian soldier's knee to take the man off balance before using his baselard as a weapon to plunge into the rings of the chainmail and through the gambeson that protected the man's throat.

Kiran made attempts to move and gather as many coalition soldiers as he and whatever living remnants he could gather. Eventally, he would find men he recognised but less that he could count of his hand and no Ernst. Exhaustion seemed to set in so quickly as sweat built up under the armour. He would fight using anything he could find from employing a missile weapon to wound or kill a man from afar to any and every thing he could think to employ as a weapon as he found weapons less caked with mud, grime and blood.

How many had he aided in cutting down, as Kiran's concentration faded as exhaustion and fatigue set in. These were the points when anyone could make a mistake and even Kiran was not divinely protected from any harm as a blade rode down his right shoulder across his armour and locking onto his wrist and shield as it attempted to drive downwards. The force behind this action at its angle was sufficient to pop Kiran's right arm from its socket causing a substantial amount of pain from both the area affected as well as the teeth that bit down into part of Kiran's tongue. Driving himself upwards and slightly backwards Kiran used his mass and the backswing on his helmeted head to headbutt the mans own head. Even beneath the padded protection worn beneath the helm, it still felt as if his ears rung with the sound of bell and Kiran in hindsight imagined the same afflicted his quarry to as they both stumbled about to regain their balance.

Kiran his right arm somewhat limp as he tried to focus on his opponent through hazy eyes. The battle between the two felt like hours but was more like minutes as the rest of the melee retinues and peasant militia pushed through the scattered lines of the Westgardian Vanguard. Even being able to relieved of his engagement.

It wasn't long before Kiran would find a horse to collapse back on, in his semi-sorry state with whatever wounded remnants he could remain with. He was done for the day, the fight was done the others could mop up. He had done his part. His helmeted head resting back on the corpse of the horse's belly as he remained somewhat conscious.

Letter from Wilhelm Von Lunkhofen (2 days, 19 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (36 recipients)

Oh please Sevastian get a grip on yourself. We have an army which is twice as strong as the bunch you managed to gather in an attempt to expand your own influence. It is determined you are destined to be defeated. Also that inflitrator of yours was incompetent.

Roleplay from Emyhr le Craint (2 days, 19 hours ago) Message sent to all nobles in Demyansk (36 recipients)

The aftermath of the battle has settled. Taking this opportunity, Emyhr headed straight for his estate. Due to the region having taken very little damage, the manor itself was in good condition. However the large oak gates were wide open. Concerned, he darted through them without any hesitation. To his surprise, he came across a large crowd of people waiting within the courtyard mostly women, children and the elderly.

Emyhr caught sight of the attendant of his home standing outside the door way, attempting to calm the crowds.

"Now calm down, I am sure the lord shall return shortly. Last I heard the battle had ended and our magnificent benefactors had won."

He then caught sight of Emyhr as he stepped down from his horse and rushed over to him.

"Earl Emyhr, I am glad to see you well. Do not mind the crowds, many are reffugees from Farrowfield and Golden Farrow. Come, come, you need to rest..."

Before he could finish, Emyhr cut him off, holding his hand out politely. "Bring a chair from inside, I wish to speak with those who have come here." The attendant rushed inside and brought out a simple seat, placing it on the step of the entryway he guided Emyhr. The crowds once again formed around the entrance, this time calm. Emyhr took a seat and addressed the crowd.

"Greetings civilians. As you have heard, we came out victorious. The barbarians that sought to defame and break out realm have suffered at the hands of us all. The peasants that served this realm today shall be remembered and those who lost their lives shall be mourned." A bit of a commotion erupted from the crowd before Emyhr held his hand up once again, "This shall not end for this war has only just begun. However, this shall not be the last of our victories. The barbaric oppressors shall not succeed."

A cheer erupted from the crowd, many people hugging and smiling out of pure happiness. Emyhr sat and watched the crowd, welcoming all those who wished to talk and discuss the political matters. Many just thanking him and those who defended this region. This continued until the last of the light of the sunset dipped below the horizon. The crowds began to make their way out of the courtyard, leaving only a few. Emyhr stayed until the end, listening and talking to the people. He couldn't help but think about tomorrow, what the day shall bring. He held his head high knowing that Tol Goldora shall survive.

Roleplay from Selena Chénier (2 days, 15 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (36 recipients)

Her men routed, Selena shed a tear at the carnage before her. But above all, her greatest regret were for the innocents that had been slain in the looting before the battle. She wished she could go see the families, explain that it was all a mistake, that her orders had been misunderstood, that she never wished to inflict any harm upon them. But the enemy now controlled the field. And it would probably be of little consolation to them anyways. "I'm sorry...", she muttered into the void, before calling onto her men to rally.

Roleplay from Cador Andrasta (2 days, 13 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (36 recipients)

The old king could barely contain himself. Drums pounded, hornets blared and soldier shouted their war cries, but he barely paid them any heed. All he could see was the enemy, their banners fluttering in the autumn breeze. The sight of them filled his heart with anticipation. No more shambling undead or feral beasts. For the first time in decades, men in steel suits would use all manner of wicked weapons to do him harm, to kill him if they could. They were outnumbered, but what of it? Their front rank was the elite of the enemy, the Exarch herself commanding. Hers were the banners Cador's eyes were fixated on. When he had burned them into memory, he wheeled his destrier around and faced the heavy cavalry behind him. Some two hundred knights and freeriders, more than half them his own. Since he had provided the bulk of the cavalry, the old king had taken it upon himself to lead the charge.

"My fellow knights!", he bellowed, "I'm sure I could spend a good while praising our forces and berating the enemy, speaking of the noble plight of Tol Goldora in the face of Westgardian aggression, and drumming up courage in your hearts for the impending battle. But they call me Cador the Silent, and I am not much on lengthy speeches. I've waited damn near thirty years for this day. When the horns sound the attack, I intend to ride that way." He pointed straight at the Exarch's banners behind him. "I'm going to put the point of my lance between the eyes of the first fool to stand in my way. Then I'm going to twist the shattered remains of my lance into his friend's face. Then I am going to bash people in the head with my warhammer left and right until there are no more heads to bash. And then I am going to go back to camp and down a horn of mead for every man I have killed this day."

He turned to his captain Grimwold and grinned. "What do you say, Grim? Too graphic?"

"I say we get this battle started before you completely lose your mind. Some of our allies seem more confused than inspired."

Cador laughed. "I told them I was not much on speeches." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "Alright then. Let's see if we've trained them properly... We hit the enemy with the biggest close fist we can make, and hit them hard. We head straight for the Exarch's banner. Do not worry about our allies, they will have plenty of others to fight. And for Tyr's sake, Grim, none of your usual stunt work. We're not fighting hordes anymore."

Grimwold looked disappointed in earnest. "Bah... who will remember my deeds?"

"Only the dead worry about being reme-."

Finally, the horns sounded. Almost reflexively, Cador raised his lance in the air and pointed his horse at the Westgardian lines. Without a word, he pulled down his visor, drove his heels into his mount's flank and rode off. The men closest to him had no doubt expected this, because without missing a beat, they fell in on either side of him. More and more of his Equites joined in until they were riding fifteen abreast, eight rows deep. At first, the thundering of their hooves was a cacophony, but before long, the horses matched each other's stride. With every beat, they closed the gaps in between them, until the knights were riding knee-to-knee with one another. Still, they pressed closer together, until the they and horses themselves became a single mass of hooves, muscle and steel. The training had paid off marvelously. The knights were now packed so closely, they could ride through a rain storm, and only a few drops would ever hit the ground beneath them. The Imperial Fist, lashing out at its foes. The allied lines marching ahead of them gave way, opening a gap for the cavalry. They would surely be the first to close the distance.

Roleplay from Cador Andrasta (2 days, 13 hours ago) Message sent to everyone in Demyansk (36 recipients)

At roughly a hundred paces away, the horns sounded again, this time to form the wedge. The horses at the center of the pack gradually increased their speed. Grimwold was now at the head of the formation. Cador had argued endlessly with his captain about it, but Grim had not budged. "As your sworn bodyguard, it would look poorly of me if you were the first man killed." And so it was that Cador rode just slightly behind him, to his right. A third horn sounded. This time, it was the one Cador had longed for most. The enemy had loosed their volleys straight at them. He looked upwards, and sure enough, the sky was full of arrows. Now the expense of covering every horse in mail would prove its use. Sure enough, less than a dozen arrows found a mark. A few horses at the rear fell, taking their riders with them. The charge was not hindered.

Now, the last horn sounded, for the final charge. Time seemed to slow. Cador couched his lance under his arm. The inexperienced knights gripped it firmly in their hands, but Cador simply rested it on the palm of his hand, its flickering point staying almost perfectly level. It was child's play for him, even after all this time. Wherever he wanted it to go, there it would go. Grimwold knew it, as did the Forlorn, his chosen companions. He let the lance swivel gently, picking out a target as he rode. Thirty yards away, the choice was made. Now, the point of the lance was fixed. Twenty yards, then ten, then five. He tightened his arm's grip. Less than a yard. With a quick flick, the lance pointed up, away from the enemy's waiting shield and between his eyes. It splintered as it struck, the first man still tumbling down, half of the broken shaft jutting out from underneath his helmet, as Cador drove the other half of it into the man's friend's face. All around him, his Equites broke their lances as they hammered through the line. Men and horses tumbled where the charge had failed to break through, trampled over by friend and foe alike. All of the Forlorn were still with him.

The charge had run its course, and now the real butcher's work began. Cador dropped the broken lance for his warhammer, and began laying about left and right. The mass of knights slowly pressed forward, an irresistible push towards Exarch Selene's unit. He looked for Grimwold, and found him still at the head of the knights, his mace bringing death upon those within reach. One of the Forlorn cut down a Westgardian lord, but was killed in turn before he could finish it. Before long, the Exarch was in spitting distance. Still, hers were the sort of soldiers who would fight to the last. His own numbers were falling quickly. Heavy horse was deadly on the charge, but unsuited for prolonged melee against hardened opponents. They would have to break off soon if they wanted to play a further part in the battle. The Exarch was only a good fifteen yards away, but she might as well have been on top of the highest peak in the West. Cador cursed, and in an instant, his arm was winding up behind him. With a mighty effort, he hurled his hammer at Selene. He laughed as it bounced off her helmet, leaving a small dent and sending her falling to the ground as he rode away.

The battle was now as good as won, and only a few hundred archers remained. By now, a troupe of squires and armorers had caught up to the front, bring fresh horses and lances to replace what was lost. Less than half his men were still in fighting shape, still more than enough to finish the job. The Imperial Fist closed once more, and struck the archers with a terrible blow, but this time, the arrows had found their way. One even struck the old king square in the visor, less than an inch below the left eye slit. As good a time as any to sound the retreat, he thought. And as the Equites collected their dead, some forty in total, Cador wondered how many horns of mead he'd earned that day.

Roleplay from Ciarghuala Dubhaine (1 day, 20 hours ago) Message sent to all nobles in Farrowfield (28 recipients)

Ciarghuala rode next to King Bennet flanked by Captain Septinia of The Free Fontanese Guard and Synne, her Royal Esquire and bodyguard. She'd had precious little to say since they'd set off, lost in memories of a day long before when the last hopes of the West had been overthrown.

Few who knew Farrowfield of old would recognise what had become of the once prosperous town during the long years of anarchy, the sullen remnant of her population reduced to scratching a living on fortified homesteads, mistrustful of strangers by day and doubly so by night when horror ruled unabated and unchallenged, living by that most brutal of all laws: the law of survival. The long, hard, unremitting toil which had somehow allowed them to endure years of tribulation was written in every face and uttered by every whispering tongue.

The unlooked for arrival of settlers from the Eastern continent under the banners of Sol wasn't the first attempt to restore civilisation to the coastal strip but to date it was the most successful, raising new dwellings and shops amidst the fallen edifices of onetime Caerwyn and Kabrinskia. A new town was taking shape, overshadowed by an imposing motte & bailey in the Eastern style, graced until recently with the Golden Anchor standard of Tol Goldora. Now tools lay idle and nervous eyes watched from behind shuttered windows as the allied host marched through the town to a medley of gay aires under the arms of two dozen knights, more than one thousand warriors hot-foot from their victory at the Battle of Demyansk.

What spirit had possessed the Lords of Westgard that possessing this new settlement of Tol Goldora should become fixed in their hearts? And how did this relate to the resurgence of the Zuma? To one raised in those haunted lands the timing seemed more than coincidence...