Of the Scipii Family/Aulus Severus/From a Fontanese Perspective
One last defiant volley...
Feast_of_Crows - Round 6
Revenge of the 'Arrows of Aulus' (22) take 1812 hits from archer fire, which cause 4 casualties, wiping the unit out.
Sir Aulus Severus of the Scipii, Count of Oberndorf, Ambassador of Fontan has been wounded.
= From a Fontanese Perspective =
Sited on a low mound of earth, Aulus and his men each took another Arrow from those arrayed before them and methodically laid the shafts across the staves of their Longbows.
~
They had watched, from their slight vantage point behind the Allied Army, as both infantry forces had advanced upon one another and began the brutal slaughter.
The Battle had seemed to sway back and forth, with neither side gaining a true advantage. Banners rose and fell, screams split the dull clattering of sword on sword and the splintering of wooden shields. On both sides the Mounted Soldiers charged in amongst gaps in the lines to smash and rout as many foes as they could.
As the throng pushed ever more compact the Cavalrymen waded amongst the Infantry, unable to detach themselves from the melee. As Lords and Knights were unseated or had their horses felled from under them, the Men-at-Arms clamoured for the ransoms that had been so numerous in their coming not more than 12 hours before. The Allied forces, motivated by the capture of both the Sirion General and the Duke of the enemy Capital prior in the day, pushed on eagerly against the defenders.
The fighting, however, was vicious this time, both sides spurred on to a promised victory. Nobles and soldiers alike were mercilessly put down with grievous wounds and all the while the injured men and elves hobbled and stumbled from the rear, blood splattered and exhausted, dragging dying comrades with them toward the Healer’s tents.
The Archers traded fire over the heads of the combatants, challenging each other in a game of skill and luck. Arrows struck all around them but the extreme range of engagement made casualties low, despite the numerical superiority of the Sirionites. Those that could, volleyed high to come in amongst the Infantry masses, cutting down reinforcements to the mire that had become the battlefield.
~
Now, with the melee thinning and the range-to-range combat proving unsuccessful, Aulus’ Captain pointed to the exposed flanks of the Sirion Infantry.
“Cease Volley fire!” Viktor ordered “Focus on the foot soldiers, don’t waste your time on the Archers”
The small unit notched their arrows and drew back their bows, each man selecting a target as they raised their weapons. It took incredible accuracy to hit a man directly with a Longbow, drawing the cord back to their ear left the Archers unable to aim directly along the shaft to their intended victim. Instead they had to predict the arrow’s course, will it to fly straight and strike their enemy down.
Captain Viktor fired first, loosening his arrow toward a grouping of Sirion Infantry, watched as it dipped low and struck one of the warriors high in his chest, punching through his armour and dropping him almost instantly. The other soldiers around him made to raise their shields, but another two fell to the Fontanese arrows that had followed the first in quick succession.
Hartmann, Aulus’ previous Captain, a long survivor of many Battles against the Elves and a good friend Aulus had originally considered killed when the A.o.A. was massacred in Sermbar, raised his own bow, that he otherwise seldom used, and put his arrow rather crudely into an Elven soldier’s side. The mail was not enough to resist the sheer force behind the broadhead as it punched through his lower ribs and sent the man down screaming, the shaft sunk almost up to the fledging. Hartmann grinned as the soldier writhed on the floor while two of his fellows tried to cover him with their shields and drag him away.
Aulus had been aiming for the Standard Bearer of the Unit but instead tracked the two helping the wounded man. His own bow was slightly shorter than those wielded by men of The Revenge, and good thing it was, for he could barely pull it to his lip before the old wound in his shoulder caused by an Elven arrow sapped the strength from his arm.
He released the bowstring, felt the slight nip of friction burn his fingertips, before the arrow took wavering flight across the short distance to tear through the elf’s haubergeon. The soldier screamed too as the arrow forced its way underneath his collarbone and stuck there. He stumbled from the impact and sprawled to the ground, landing on his wounded side.
“Oo messy one that Sir, you’re losing it”
“Well he went down didn’t he …” responded Aulus sharply, watching the soldier struggling to rise.
“Yeah he’s a dead ‘un”
Aulus was extremely proud of his men, all 4 of them. Each and every man in his Unit had been wounded in the morning battle yet all but one had survived, they had patched themselves up and rallied for the evening engagement, eager to do their bit for their realm and allies. Scraps of bloodied cloth were tied around their various injuries and they all looked drained at fighting the pain, but they had marched to the field all the same.
“Continue Firing!” Viktor interrupted, an arrow already drawn and ready to fly “Take them down one at a time” he said, the arrow leaping from the string and taking an elven Cavalryman from his horse.
The Revenge of the ‘Arrow of Aulus’ made their way through the arrows they had sunk in the ground before them, their tips deadly not only on impact but now likely to turn a wound septic should the target survive the initial injury. Having urinated on the ground the arrows were planted in prior to the battle the bows now delivered their customary infections into the bodies of those chosen to die, ensuring their death one way or another.
“Down to three Arrows” said one of the men, releasing the arrow he had drawn at yet another elf “two now”
The Melee was coming to a standstill, exhausted soldiers battling it out in what had become a morass of mud, blood and bodies.
“Right, forward!” Shouted Viktor, drawing his sword he was ever fond of polishing and greasing “Lets fire a few close range and then close with the enemy, our boys need all the help they can get!”
The R.A.o.A. ran 30 yards forward and readied their bows … but as the Unit made to fire and advance … they faltered …
…. their last arrows half drawn on their levelled bows …
… caught out in the open ground between the combatants and the Allied Archers, the ‘Revenge of the ‘Arrows of Aulus’’ … realised their fate.
The entire Sirion Archer contingent, numbering almost 300 men had raised their bows in unison, raised them high in the Air, directed at the small line of Fontanese.
Their Yellow and Blue uniforms with their black cloaks stood out stark against the muddied field. The precision fire against the Sirion soldiers had finally been noticed by the Elven Archers.
Aulus’ heart beat twice.
Two short thuds in his chest, so strong he thought they were audible.
Two beats of pure terror as the enormity of the situation dawned on him.
Two beats during which Aulus concluded: “… Now … is when I die”
Of all the things in the world he wanted death was not one of them. He did not seek his own demise as others did, did not willingly put his life on the line, he had no desire to be exalted for a heroic sacrifice…
But death took to the skies all the same.
The Sirion Archers loosened, the collective crack of hundreds of bows, the roar of countless arrows.
The Revenge of the ‘Arrows of Aulus’, a commemoration of what was once one of Fontan’s finest units, fallen in its entirety in a single battle, stood unmoving. There was no-where to run, no-where to hide, nothing to do.
Aulus, his two Captains and the 4 men by their side watched the darkening horizon turn black, the shafts of so many arrows filled the sky.
‘How fitting‘, Aulus thought to himself, ‘that is should end here.’ End here in his Homeland of Tabost. A region where he was considered an Invader by those who had forced themselves upon the people.
He would never get to explore the continent as he had intended, never get to travel and earn fame and prestige on the way. Never reconcile with his brothers lost and present, never further the family line, and never managed to say what he’d felt since childhood to Cesera .. And that stung him deepest of all.
“My friends …. It has been an honour ….” Aulus began, trying to keep his voice from wavering.
“… and too damn right its been a privilege …” retorted Hartmann
“For Fontan?” Viktor proposed, and in a flourish he raised his sword high.
The men of the R.A.o.A. drew back and raised their bows too, each with their final arrow engaged, they all knew what to do.
The Elven arrows raced toward them now, tearing through the sky as their angle of trajectory altered and they began their descent.
“FOR … FONTAN!!!” : The Revenge of the Arrows of Aulus shouted, releasing their last arrows into the sky.
A final Salute.
One last defiant volley.
A single flight of Ash shafts that charged toward the storm of darkness that hung overhead.
And then the Elven hail of Arrows consumed them.
