Dubhaine Family/Ciarghuala/Roleplays/1018/June
1st June
Spring Evening -- Poryatu
Tyra Andrasta Bluelake
As the drunkard tried to swing at her, Tyra simply laughed and stepped away. After three or four tries, the man fell face down on the ground. Still laughing, and looking at Duncan's horrified expression, Tyra called her captain.
"Otwin, get this man something to do in our unit, he's useless now but maybe can do some laundry, I don't know. Be creative."
Otwin nodded, smirked and took the drunkard away. In a few minutes he'd be seen in his underwear, sleeping in the middle of a 10-men tent, being told an interesting story of how his night turned out and how he'd have to pay for it. Tyra guessed in two days he'd have run away. If he stayed, he'd be perfect for them.
Shaking herself, the knight took Duncan's arm and said, happily: "Let's go, my friend, I think I can face a bunch of Bluelakes now, without trying to fight anyone. Thank you for bringing me that oaf."
The man was still looking sour. She smiled her sweetest smile, not lacking a little mischief. "I know, he treated you so badly. But you picked him. Isn't all well that ends well?"
"Yes, milady..." He sighed "But spitting on my shoe, wasn't that too much?"
"Well, took some guts." she shrugged "Come on, I'm here and in a good mood."
They were standing before the Bluelake manor. It wasn't too large, neither too new. It had that indistinct quality of a house that is cared for, but also slightly disarranged from being actually lived in. A few plants climbed the walls, and in places you could see they had been ripped by little climbing hands and feet. That made Tyra feel happy. Children being children.
Duncan went up to the fence to make the announcement of her arrival.
Tyra arrived to Poryatu with sunrise, and immediately proceeded to... nowhere. She let her men play a few rounds of Skat while she paced back and forth, eyeing the town, then the beautiful hilly fields right next to it. She knew exactly where the Bluelake manor was, but she had suddenly lost all will to go there. What would she say?
Duncan observed his dame and waited. He knew she'd make the right decision because she had promised him. But he had to give her time. In the meanwhile, he wrote a few notes on the journal he kept about her advances.
Tyra paced and paced and got more and more worked up. She couldn't just go in and yell at them, but it was all she wanted to do. She didn't have it in her to arrive with a gift of flowers and offer friendship to the family of that woman. No. Never!
"Duncan!!! I need to blow some steam! Get me a man to fight me, will you?"
Roleplay from Gerald
By the time Duncan got his things together and sent into town to find an unfortunate soul most capable fighters moved on to their errands... the only half capable person left was a brooding drunk mercenary who caught a girl over his knee and was sneaking his hand under her skirt.
"This one will do" said Duncan pointing to the drunk.
Duncan arrived back to camp nearly dragging the mercenary along. He was just happy this time his dame seemed to really want to fight and not do what she referred to as "sparring" or "training", which she usually did with her soldiers anyway. Yet, despite having heard this was one of the best wandering fighters in the region, Duncan was a bit unsure about his condition. He couldn't hide the despise under his usual dignified expression.
Her scribe's face looked so disgusted when he arrived dragging the man, that Tyra snapped out of rage and started laughing.
"What on earth did you find me, Duncan!? Was this the best you could get?! Can he stand straight at least?"
Roleplay from Gerald
The drunken mercenary reeked of booze and garlic so bad that you could smell his presence twenty feet away. But at the insult he got his strength together and strengthened up. This fellow here said he will pay me a week worth of inn stay if I give your lady ass a whooping! He pointed the finger at Duncan whose terrified expression could not be hidden.
"Thats not true my lady! It is not what I said. I told him I will give him a weeks worth of stay if he spars with you. Nothing beyond that!"
The mercenary smiled widely, proudly showing off a few missing teeth through which he landed a nice spit on Duncan's shoe who stepped back in disgust
Roleplay from Tyra Andrasta Bluelake (18 hours, 9 minutes ago)
He really did it! Duncan's expression was priceless. He was usually so unphased! Tyra laughed so hard she was almost out of air. She gave Duncan an apologetic glance but walked over to the man with a broad smile.
"Let me see that ass whooping, man!" she gave him a hearty slap on his back, and he promptly lost his balance. She laughed again. "Well, I don't think there will be ass kicking today. You seem quite useless right now. Come and give me a try."
As the drunkard tried to swing at her, Tyra simply laughed and stepped away. After three or four tries, the man fell face down on the ground. Still laughing, and looking at Duncan's horrified expression, Tyra called her captain.
"Otwin, get this man something to do in our unit, he's useless now but maybe can do some laundry, I don't know. Be creative."
Otwin nodded, smirked and took the drunkard away. In a few minutes he'd be seen in his underwear, sleeping in the middle of a 10-men tent, being told an interesting story of how his night turned out and how he'd have to pay for it. Tyra guessed in two days he'd have run away. If he stayed, he'd be perfect for them.
Shaking herself, the knight took Duncan's arm and said, happily: "Let's go, my friend, I think I can face a bunch of Bluelakes now, without trying to fight anyone. Thank you for bringing me that oaf."
The man was still looking sour. She smiled her sweetest smile, not lacking a little mischief. "I know, he treated you so badly. But you picked him. Isn't all well that ends well?"
"Yes, milady..." He sighed "But spitting on my shoe, wasn't that too much?"
"Well, took some guts." she shrugged "Come on, I'm here and in a good mood."
They were standing before the Bluelake manor. It wasn't too large, neither too new. It had that indistinct quality of a house that is cared for, but also slightly disarranged from being actually lived in. A few plants climbed the walls, and in places you could see they had been ripped by little climbing hands and feet. That made Tyra feel happy. Children being children.
Duncan went up to the fence to make the announcement of her arrival.
2nd June
Spring Evening -- Poryatu
Tyra Andrasta Bluelake
First contact
They were standing before the Bluelake manor. It wasn't too large, nor too new. It had that indistinct quality of a house that is cared for, but also slightly disarranged from being actually lived in. A few plants climbed the walls, and in places you could see they had been ripped by little climbing hands and feet. That made Tyra smile. Children being children.
The house was traditionally built, with wings on each side, several rooms. Only one of them looked closed off, but in general it seemed like a lot of people lived there. Facing east there was a glassed section with a winter garden and living space. A fire could be seen from the outside, shimmering through the glass. The dame felt some of the old anger flicker, but remembered the drunkard and kept her peace.
Duncan went up to the stone fence to make the announcement of her arrival. Through the gate, he caught the eye of a serving girl and told her Dame Tyra Andrasta Bluelake was there to see the Head of the House.
They were soon taken into the winter garden. Tyra took place near the plants and waited for Zhou Tai. He never came. Instead, she was greeted by an older lady, blonde, with smart eyes and an easy smile: "Welcome, Tyra. I heard a bit about you, but wasn't expecting a visit..." she looked at the knight with an appraising glance "You are not what I had expected... but it fits you so well, Tyra Thunderborn."
Tyra squinted. Her pale eyes almost bore holes on that woman, trying to perceive the least bit of malice.
"It wasn't a loving epithet, milady...? It just meant I caused great noise and destruction wherever I hit."
"I'm Alice. From the royal line." Seeing Tyra's face was still questioning, she continued "I forget you know nothing of us. Aunt Vanya did a terrible job. I can fill you in on the family heritage later... Just know I'm Alice, and happy to meet you..."
"Where's Zhou Tai? I had business with him."
"Not here, I'm afraid. Overseeing recruits."
Tyra grunted. "I'm leaving, then. He's the one I must talk to."
Alice seemed dismayed. She was a strong middle aged woman, not a whiff of fragility to her, and a hearty voice. "Oh, no! Please don't! It's not always we have a lost family member come back to us, please stay and tell me about you?"
The Andrasta swayed. She almost sat down to tell this woman her story, about the bullying, her come backs, her friends and adventures, how she had learned of true evil in people, and of abandonment... Then she hardened. "I won't stay a minute in here if not to speak to Zhou Tai and ask him to stay out of my business."
The older woman looked sad. "It's your right, my dear. But if write to you, will you answer me?"
The dame considered it, then looked at Duncan. "Write to him. He'll tell me the important bits." after a pause "Thank you, you were nothing like what I was expecting."
Alice just smiled. Such a warm smile Tyra felt her eyes welling up. Her own mom hadn't given her such a smile since... Since Outer Tilog. Cursed Vanya Bluelake. Shaking her head with anger and disgust, Tyra turned and left. She was almost at the gate when she was chased and stopped by a young boy, not even 10 years old. star [reply to sender] | [reply to list] | [ignore] | [userdetails] [character details] | [give medal: Trust medal Roleplaying medal Fun medal] | [vulgarity]
Solomon Greybrook
The Journey Home
Crossing the pastureland outside Askileon, Solomon looked to his left to see Hadroria chatting to a soldier of the guard. However, beyond this face, the Guard were not as friendly. The long campaigns north have meant the inability for messengers to provide the money Solomon needed to pay his men. Without question, Solomon knew it affected the men more and more each day. Going over the brow of the hill, Solomon looked back to see his men. They were not usually men of resentment. However, they really did need this rest in Giask and need to be paid. To Solomon, he really just desired to go home for at least a day and look over the Grand Harbor from his chair.
The journey home took longer than he would of liked.
Perhaps, a good night's sleep for a change.
Emyhr le Craint
Arrival in Giask:
Stepping off the boat into the docks of Giask, Emyhr let out a sign of relief. His men were tired after spending the past couple of days traveling across the majority of the north of Luria. He turned and addressed his men, handed out the pay that was owed to them all and gave them permission to relax and rest for a couple of days. During which, Emyhr knew he had no time to relax and headed straight for the recruitment centre to bolster his forces once again. Followed by the blacksmith to pay for the repairing of the equipment.
As the men dispersed into the city, Captain Gustaf walked back over to Emyhr who was now sat at a table of a nearby tavern unraveling and examining different scrolls and pieces of parchment.
"Hows the situation looking? This is an expensive trip it seems." The captain called over a local barmaid to bring over to mugs of ale to the table.
Emyhr looked up briefly as the captain sat down but immediately turned back to the numbers on the scrolls. Took a big swig of the drinks that the barmaid brought over.
"Its a good thing the taxes should be coming in soon, that will relieve the burden. However, we should be find to accrue the necessary repairs and recruit a few more men. Will have to be careful with the funds until the next tax collection though."
Emyhr took another big swig from the mug finishing off the last of the Ale. Gustaf noticing the stress on Emyhrs face, he handed his drink over and called the barmaid over again for another round.
"Well since we have arrive here before the majority of the others, why not give yourself some time to relax. Lets celebrate our previous ventures with another round of drinks".
The barmaid returns with two more mugs of ale, captain Gustaf hands her a couple of silvers as thanks and proceeds to give Emyhr one of the mugs.
"Its time to celebrate, let us drink for a little while before we move on to the next task"
3rd June
Spring Day -- Poryatu
Tyra Andrasta Bluelake
Drake Bluelake
A young voice yelled at her to wait. Tyra almost ignored it, but it was a child's voice. Remembering the climbing marks outside the house, she waited for the boy to catch up. He had dark hair, deep blue eyes, and fine features that reminded her of Alice. She wondered for the slightest moment if her own features were any similar. He also came with a smile, and a young lordling's clothes with the blue and silver colors of the house, and golden trim. There was a rip on his tunic that gave her pause.
"Dame Tyra!" he panted a bit "Aunt Alice forgot to give you this..." he thrust a leather pouch into her hands. "And this!" his other hand offered her a slice of cake.
Tyra was so surprised by the cake, she took the pouch without noticing. "Cake?"
Duncan by her side gave the boy an approving nod. The 8 year old puffed up. "Sharing food or drink will make you my guest, and under my protection."
The Dame laughed, taking the boy by surprise. She quickly recovered, though, and asked seriously, while taking the cake. "And under whose protection am I placing myself?"
"Drake Cedric Tinsley Bluelake, son of Gavin Drake Tinsley Bluelake, son of Queen Ilya Bluelake and King Willem Tinsley of Falasan, royal Bluelake line, Heir of the House."
Tyra fought an urge to spit the cake she had already bit. He was so eanerstly serious, she just nodded. "Thank you, young lord. I don't think I'll need your protection fighting monsters, though."
His eyes shone "You fight monsters a lot?" "Yes, mostly that's what we do." "Can I come with?" "What?! No!" Drake looked disappointed for a moment, before producing a smile and making her a courtsy. "Then we must part, gracious knight. That our meeting today is the auspicious beginning of something good."
With a smirk, Tyra bowed her head slightly and left, ever with the feeling that this visit didn't quite go the way she had wanted it to.
4th June
Spring Day -- Poryatu
Sevastian Schwarzherzig
Mattan Dews
A great bonfire spit sparks into the night, and the ale was plenty. Luria had returned to Mattan Dews, and the celebration was in full effect. Sevastian had ordered the men of Ultima Ratio Regum to leave their arms and armor behind at the camp with a pair of guards, men who had earned punishment, and join the festivities. Drums pounded and the men had mostly paired off with some of the local ladies. Sevastian, a few drinks in, jumped up on a bench and began to sing. His men cheered, for their commander had a fine singing voice. A jaunty tune picked up, and Sevastian's captain, the son of an Asylonian refugee, began to play his pipes.
"Axes flash, broadsword swing, Shining armor's piercing ring Horses run with a polished shield, Fight those bastards till they yield Midnight mare and blood red roan, Fight to keep this land your own Sound the horn and call the cry, How many of them can we make die! Follow orders as you're told, Make their yellow blood run cold Fight until you die or drop, A force like ours is hard to stop Close your mind to stress and pain, Fight till you're no longer sane Let not a one damn cur pass by, How many of them can we make die!
Time and again we'll give them war, Right until the islanders are no more, Trample their feeble walls to dust, Submission to the Hegemony is a must, The Maddening is shining bright, And our lust drives us onto the fight, Drive your bloody blade home and cry, How many of them can we make die! How many of them can we make die!"
Sevastian echoed the refrain, his men joining in, and as the song died, Sevastian stepped off the bench, in search of another drink.
6th June
Spring Evening -- Poryatu
Sharn 'The One Armed'
Sharn awoke startled. She sat upright and studied the room.
A single lonesome candle flickered gently in the far corner, illuminating the space with its dim hue. Nothing seemed amiss.
Nobody here. That voice... I must have been dreaming...
She considered for a moment whilst calming from her jerk awakening. The voice, so femenine and gentle touched her.
It had a message... Be it true nor either, I must inform the Rangers regardless!
Lonnel
A long time since I was so far south of Dwilight. My usual territories are much further north. Whenever I come here I feel like I'm going down in the good sense of the word... that I reach the roots of everything... it's like a feeling of renewal.
I will have to free myself of some weight that I bring with me... and I believe that in here it is a good place to do it.
7th June
Summer Day -- Poryatu
Matthew Coffey
"Sir Myr!"
The stout young man cantered up to the scene of the melee. A quick affair, one that was not made much easier by the 'efforts' provided by the Black Arrows of King Matthew, save riling up the beasts before they crashed into the lines of Lurian infantry. "I see you have begun your gruesome work, might I suggest perfume or a bouquet next time you wish to provide a dame a present?" His grin failed to subside as another head was torn from its carcass, one would be hard pressed to tell if he was making fun of Myr or of Tyra from his words. As he dismounted, with seemingly practiced ease despite his size, the young King gave Sir Myr a brief look over, before casting his gaze over toward wherever Dame Tyra took the field. Despite his own status, he was merely dressed in a clean white gambeson, with his family crest only visible on his signet ring, no crown or regalia heralded him. A measure of confidence that the beasts would not reach his own lines, perhaps. "I'd offer you both wine in my camp, to relieve the aches, but orders are orders and Marshal Bennet requires your presence soon. I trust we might share a cup another day, in better climes."
Tyra Andrasta Bluelake
"M'Lord, it unbefits a noble" - said Waldred overseeing one of the Redmanes sawing on the neck of one of the monsters.
"Would you rather have me deny a Lady? No, Waldred, however gruesome the Lady's wishes may be I would not be worth being called a knight if I failed to accommodate them." - Myr answered his captain.
The sawing continued.
"Sir Myr!"
The stout young man cantered up to the scene of the melee. A quick affair, one that was not made much easier by the 'efforts' provided by the Black Arrows of King Matthew, save riling up the beasts before they crashed into the lines of Lurian infantry. "I see you have begun your gruesome work, might I suggest perfume or a bouquet next time you wish to provide a dame a present?" His grin failed to subside as another head was torn from its carcass, one would be hard pressed to tell if he was making fun of Myr or of Tyra from his words. As he dismounted, with seemingly practiced ease despite his size, the young King gave Sir Myr a brief look over, before casting his gaze over toward wherever Dame Tyra took the field. Despite his own status, he was merely dressed in a clean white gambeson, with his family crest only visible on his signet ring, no crown or regalia heralded him. A measure of confidence that the beasts would not reach his own lines, perhaps. "I'd offer you both wine in my camp, to relieve the aches, but orders are orders and Marshal Bennet requires your presence soon. I trust we might share a cup another day, in better climes."
Tyra got there just in time to hear the Moon King's comment about the wine. She was quite smeared with blood and grime, having been the point of her wedge, and seemed to be in really high spirits. Her chainmail was intact, however, and the white rose pin in her hair was surprisingly clean.
"Thank you, your Majesty! Yes, we must be moving soon. It's a long travel to Mattan Dews. But if you'll have some leisure time, I can offer you one of my bottles of Grodnoin wine, first wine I ever actually appreciated!"
Then she saw what Myr's men were doing and chuckled. Why chop the heads when there wouldn't be time to boil them, use them for anything? She bowed deeply to the knight, with such theatrics that anyone could realize the jesting.
"Sir Myr, this damsel is extremely thankful for your valiant rescue. But you do realize that with half your men we killed 4 beasts and your own killed only 6?"
Myr Arnickles Renodin
"Ah, Dame Tyra..." - young knight beheld the lady, with all the blood on her person her image at the moment resembled more a butcher than a courtly damsel, or rather would've if she weren't courtseying in a truly imperial bow. Myr himself bowed in a knightly fashion and replied:
"Dame Tyra, I... you can count on my rescue whenever you need it. Indeed your men seemed more ferocious than mine, then again my current contingent of Redmanes is freshly recruited. Except for the captain and a couple of veterans they are all green like teak sprouts."
He then bowed to King Matthew, saying: "Your Grace, I will most certainly join you for a cup of wine when the time allows. Now however is not such occasion, entire army awaits my presence in Mattan Dews." - he turned again to Dame Tyra - "M'Lady, I need to know if you intend to deploy in front of the rest of the army again or follow Marshal's instructions. I will not order my men to move behind the archer line unless I am certain that all foolish ideas escaped your pretty head. I would count it my personal disgrace if I allowed you to charge the wild hordes by your lonesome."
Summer Evening -- Poryatu
Tyra Andrasta Bluelake
Tyra looked absolutely livid. Foolish ideas from her pretty head! She had already shifted weight to give Myr a well deserved elbow to his chin, when her glance fell on the young King, watching the exchange with a rather humorous countenance. That cleared her head. With a smirk, she replied. "Well, *now* my foolish pretty head is definitely keeping to the same ideas. And *of course* I will need rescuing in the front lines. In fact, we're moving out immediately."
With a nod to King Matthew, she left. Getting to her camp, Tyra instructed her men to misdirect to Matthan Dews. It had been fun to charge ahead with Myr but he shouldn't be getting any ideas that she was a damsel in distress.
Myr Arnickles Renodin
"Very well" - Myr said nodding somberly and proceeded to usher orders to his captain and his men.
When the Redmanes arrived at the battlefield they held like a wall against endless onslaught of rabid beasts. Sacrifice was great and Myr thought so too - "At least it was us that faced such hopeless peril and not..." - he looked around for Dame Tyra and her men but all he could see were some foreign sailor-looking fellows - "... cheeky scapegrace!" - he bellowed and started to laugh heartily.
Kiran Mir-Ashtan
Kiran had been on the march since his first few days in Luria after taking residence in the Estate of Ember Hall in Poryatu. They had successfully brought Cairin Tut back within the Lurian Hegemony and after restocking at Giask had returned to the relative region to begin a re-acquisition of Mattan Dews. Kiran's knowledge of the background of the region was minimal and while it was surely interesting, he had not had sufficient time to do his research into the matter with the constant battling against Monstrous Hordes in the region.
It had been the 2nd day since his arrival in Mattan Dews, returning from Giask with repairs made to his units equipment though he lacked additional troops due to the lack of income and assets at his disposal. Allied scouts had reported that numerous monster herds had formed a horde and were progressing towards the region of Mattan Dews from the Axewilds. Their numbers were high but so were the personnel that Luria had deployed to the region.
Hours before the battle
Some may say that having fears or being worried before battle is the mind of a coward. Kiran at least believed having some worries at least prevented foolish mistakes. His worry however, was the distinct lack of an Infantry mass within their forces, it meant that his retinue and a few fellow lords and their retinues would become the bulwark once the hordes closed in and if the missile forces at their disposal failed to eliminate the enemy they would be on the cutting block to buy time for those forces to whittle the enemy down further.
Kiran spent these hours contemplating and sitting with his retinue. After all the majority were people of service to his house and thus he at least knew them more significantly than their recent additions, he had very little opportunity to interact with his fellow lords due to the current circumstances.
Assisted by a few selected hands, he adorned his armour. Gambeson beneath chest and armpieces of chainmail, Splinted vambraces and grieves and his head coifed with a basinet as his helm. As was expected he carried his shield adorned his family crest, at least the shield was somewhat fine. The armour was rough and scratched it had survived the test of time and experienced patches as his family had built up the equipment slowly over time before it rose in its status recently.
The engagement begins
Kiran as per his orders had set himself and his retinue in the rearguard, they were to march through the ranks of archers as the monsters closed to make a bulwark. Though it seemed a handful of lords had positioned their infantry units upon the front-line.
As the horns of battle begun and the rear seemed secure from the possibility of skirmishing or flanking beasts. Kiran made his orders, placing his hand upon Flavonia's shoulder and requesting her as Captain to signal to the banner man and the retinue to begin marching towards the front. At the sight at least in her reasonable armour for a soldier, Flavonia would at least appear close enough to a adolescent male though obviously her voice would show her gender. At first, Kiran had shown doubts he had preferred not to recruit women to his retinue for worries of the influence on morale and cohesion as well as physical strength. Though he had been convinced to take the woman on as his captain and he still wondered if that was the correct advise to accept.
Kiran could only hope that they would come out intact and alive.
Frontline Clash
Making the frontline, it was immediately obvious that Knight Schwarzherzig and Dame Pavus's units had been decimated by the horde breaking on their forward ranks. Kiran's retinue formed a new frontline as Pavus's retinue was overrun, next would be his retinue as another rain of arrow fire descended upon Monsters shattering and killing more of their number. Kiran's retinue advanced forwards as a small herd enveloped their right flank and a much larger herd barrelled onto their frontline.
Kiran's men took initial casualties even pushing forwards as such and now these large monstrosities bigger than a man and far stronger too outnumbered his infantry. Kiran's initial worry was his retinue and himself becoming encircled by the beasts and diverted those he could make contact with in his immediate surroundings in the chaos of battle aware of his orders to hold a area open if the creatures began to close around their units failing spearline.
It was easy to see after all the creatures filled with wounds and arrows plucking a soldier up within their claws or their maws depending on species and ever ravaging them or throwing them airborne back into the crowd of monsters behind the backline. It was swift and brutal, his retinue's line broken it became each soldier's own fight for survival. Kiran himself was faced with a monster taking his sword in left-hand, he attempted a quick flurry of stabs and slashes against the creature. Though most rather useless causing only minor wounds at most, the creature barrelled down on the Knight with a flurry of its own blows more clawing rends than targeted strikes its sheer strength was more than enough to tear Kiran's shield from his arm, leaving only his sword in hand.
Stumbled from the strikes, Kiran planted his feet and surged his weight behind his blade, it had most certainly dulled and possibly chipped during combat and Kiran had to hope that this at the very least had enough strength within it to cut down a creature baring for his neck as he attempted to use his weight as well as the creatures weight against it. The blade drove deep into the creatures abdomen however when one lacks experience of monster biology a strike not completely true cannot be guaranteed to be lethal. Fire still fired in the creatures eyes as it crashed one of its claws down above his helmet deflecting off and find purchase on his right shoulder the creature easily dislocated it with ease, the weight and force simply enough to knock the knight to his knees. For certainty, the next act of the Knight was an action of sheer survival grabbing a shattered shaft of a spear and attempting to drive it into the creatures face only proceeding to break the shaft further. After all it wasn't his blade that would fell this creature but rather the proficient and well aimed arrows of experienced marksmen and women that fired from the rear-lines.
In the aftermath of the battle, Kiran found his unit scattered the majority of his men immediately dead. As their commander Kiran took the duty of assisting any of his retinue that the healer deemed unrecoverable to swifter demise than the fate that would have awaited them naturally. In total 11 of his retinue had survived with numerous varying injuries most of which had been from his family retinue, It was at least to some relief that his Captain had survived, she wasn't to bad worse for wear.
It would take him hours to find and account for his lost troops through the battlefield. It would mean families left without a bread-earner, Kiran could only hope that the dowry of a dead soldier could at least aid them for a little while at the very least.
Aftermath
Not all of the survivors made it through the night, two succumbed to their injuries leaving only 9 and even Kiran's dislocation while easily fixed his minor concussion was not. They would need to take to the battlefield a short time later as another horde descended on the army, though this time they had the enemy at a significant disadvantage. The monsters cut down like butter through shear numbers was at least a recompense for the loses suffered and all of his retinue made it back alive with only a single injury within their number.
Kiran hoped at the very least his ability with the blade and his respect of command within his retinue had improved but only time would tell. Shattered and tired and without funds to recruit more soldiers. Kiran would have to think of a way forward. Seeing the monsters proficiency within melee began to give Kiran thoughts as he sat within his dug in fortifications, maybe it was worth asking for funds and return to his estate. He could place his current retinue as homeguard militia and seek out his lords permission to build a force to hunt such creatures, they suffered against missile fire but of course archers themselves were weak in the melee. If he was to recruit a force of mixed infantry, he might be able to at least drive more of these creatures into the ground and repay the service of those he had failed to return home.
Only time would tell
Leif Wilkins
Leif lay bare in his tent. The humid summer heat made the air heavy, and a bead of sweat was permanently perched at his brow. He shuffled his body, feeling sticky among two female companions at either side. He stood up, walking towards the table to pour a chalice of wine, casting an odd shadow similar to that of an axe stuck horizontally in a stump.
A pile of letters was pinned by a dagger of lavish design. He wiped the sweat off of his forehead, thinking about the hustle and bustle of the realm. Although highly intrigued and eager to participate, the recent battles and letters from his sick mother have kept him quiet, and unusually quiet.
He poured two more chalices of Fissoan Wine, turned towards the ladies, and approached them with a smile 'In case I don't live tomorrow, please help me create a night worth dying for' he sunk into the pillows.
Isabella Pavus
Isabella led among the pile of bodies on the battlefield, surrounded by those wearing the Pavus colours. Each of those had a mortal wound, though the sword that struck her missed any major organs and was a clean puncture. Blood loss would just as easily kill her if aid was not to arrive swiftly. Her eyes took to the sky to the swooning vultures, waiting for their feast. They were brave to swoon above a battlefield of man and monster, and Isabella admired that. There was something poetic what these final moments. Watching the predators fester above, she utters a final prayer to the ancestors, before closing her eyes.
Then, she awakens. Days have passed, men have been buried, and many letters penned. She was still not truly recovered, though the healers had truly done a miracle. Yet, more monsters were coming. Despite her near death experience and unexpected second chance, she had to be ready again. Her unit had been massacred throughout the invasions. Now just twenty two men soldiers remained active, in addition to one injured and her captain, Alaric.
She would be sure to make the best out of this second chance. For Luria.
8th June
Summer Day -- Poryatu
Myr Arnickles Renodin
Myr ran as fast as he could and still by the time he reached the frontlines the arms were raised and mouths open - shouting cheerful shouts of victory. Among bloodied warriors were the ones with the golden eagle on their banners.
"Waldred, come here." - Myr beckoned his captain to his side - "Was a knight of Ordo Leonis just out-valoured by a lady?"
Waldred cleared his throat taken aback but chose against diplomatic appraoch, knowing his Lord would appreciate honesty more - "Yes, m'Lord, I believe you were."
Staedtler la Stylo
The footfall of a dozen soldiers ran wet and sodden through the rain-driven walkways of the lower courtyard. Staedtler was leading them down to the main gate as his militia captain strode adjacent, holding his earl’s umbrella above, daintily clutched in his bristled and muscular sword arm. It was a summer rain, light and constant, coldly bleeding through armours of the bowmen atop the walls of the second circle. Needles of sunlight leaked through the clouds and against the mist in the air. It was a still, windless morning, and war was raging below.
A hoarse shout of ‘release’ echoed overhead, and a volley of arrows was loosened westward at a near vertical angle to the moat.
Staedtler swiped a handkerchief from the lapels of his coat and dabbed at the inside of his cheek before putting it away again. It was blood-flecked, and stitched with his initials. The report of the encroaching horde had arrived upon Staedtler’s desk somewhat too sudden this morning in the form of a breathless scout and a fleet-footed botanist. A meeting of coincidence. One was on duty, and the other doing research for the University when they first saw the same thing and began to run. And, with time being in short supply, Staedtler proceeded to wolf down his breakfast, apparently alongside half of his own mouth in the process.
“If I know the man at all, then Titos is at the gate already. He’s probably killed a dozen of the things with the weight of his shadow alone, already,” Staedtler mumbled to his entourage as he began massaging the blister in his mouth with a finger. They reached the steps descending onto the lowest circle of the castle. Staedtler scanned the headline of the gathered formations for sight of the towering behemoth-for-hire, but to no avail. “And Donald is somewhere on the walls, I’d wager.” He blindly waved to the west and turned around to the captain with a smile. He exchanged the umbrella in the captain’s hand for a bloodied handkerchief, somewhat still dripping. He span the thing above his head in a lazy motion as he lorded over the chaotic mess erupting at the foot of his estate, rocking back and forth on his heels.
The oaken gates were roaring with battle; screams; strikes; the barking yelps of a horde yet to break the perimeter, clawing their way across the moat and into the palisades. The gates still held in their frames, so there was little to worry over. Their foundations were shaken, and the woodwork splintering, but the soldiers remained atop the walls in strong formation.
Only occasionally would one disappear from the ranks, plucked from his line by unseen hands and dragged over into the abyss beyond.
“And, I swear," Staedtler shouted, raising his voice over the cries below, "upon the blood in my mouth, that if one of those military peacocks takes claim for my very successful defence of my lands … well ...”
Staedtler stopped.
Two militia men were hoisting eachother up the staircase, leaning onto eachother’s good leg with clutched arms as they climbed. Crimson was wet upon their brow, helmets torn from their heads, with tears running clean through the dirt on their cheeks. They bowed their heads in respect, managing yet to smile before their earl as they passed toward the barracks. Staedtler stood silent as he watched them hobble away. He turned back to the captain, who was glaring down upon the handkerchief in his palm like it was threatening to plough his sister.
“I'm going to find Earl Donald,” Staedtler said closely. “We will join him on the walls. Go to your men, captain.” With a spit of blood to his feet, Steadtler took to the raised walkways as the captain departed down the steps with a salute.
