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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Feb 4, 2017 13:38:42 GMT
BAGGAGE TRAIN EDGE OF THE RIVER NORTH OF UNTERGAUNG Taun-Lok Madog HierAnother sketch was taking form in her notebook when one of her bodyguards tapped her on the ankle. She blinked herself back to reality and leaned down to take a note. Taun-Lok alone among his people had traveled outside their cities; none of them had his grasp of the language. Nevertheless, all of them, of his caste or subspecies anyway, seemed to have excellent penmanship skills. Man horses danger coming, said the note in precise, even dainty letters. Miri blinked and looked where the saurian guard pointed. Heavy cavalry, charging straight for the baggage train. Off to her right, closer to the city, the siege line at the rear of the army had taken notice of the horsemen. Gigantic bows, ballista-scale or close enough, sent tree-trunk arrows at their left flank, or that was how it appeared from here. Uncertain what the baggage train's command structure might look like, or whether it might decide to attack, stand ground, or retreat into the river, Miri tucked her precious notebook away and urged her herbivore mount deeper into the baggage train. To reach her, the cavalry would need to get through the- Or not. All around her, the aquatic baggage train began slipping back into the river, where lancers just plain couldn't follow. The Riverscale skirmishers covered their retreat from the shallows with atlatl spearthrowers. It seemed the baggage train's commander (if any) didn't intend to meet the cavalry charge. But the ground here was quite marshy and sodden, maybe unfamiliar terrain to the saurians, and he might have underestimated the time necessary to withdraw. At a guess, a couple of the biggest snapping turtles wouldn't quite make it into the water before the knights arrived lance-first. Miri's bipedal, herbivorous mount could swim fairly well, and she urged it into the river, all the while wrapping her notebook very tightly in a square of oilcloth.
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Post by Madog Hier on Feb 10, 2017 20:18:45 GMT
Saurian Baggage Train North of the City Kendrik and his men had made good time heading north and had quickly found the lizard-people army from the sounds of battle and bestial roars. From there, it was only a matter of common sense to flank the army and find the rear echelon. The individual they'd been tasked to hunt down was simple enough to look for and once the baggage train had been located the robed figure wouldn't be all that hard to spot. The charge had been sounded and the horses spurred onward towards the relatively unguarded rear. At least, it was mostly unguarded. A massive arrow transfixed the rider to the side of Kendrik, sending horse and rider tumbling to the ground in a heap of limbs and armor. A quick glance showed him great beasts firing massive bows from the flank. The horses were moving quickly, fast enough to throw the aim of the archers sufficiently, but with weaponry such as that even a glancing blow was devastating. For each volley fired, only a small handful hit, but each strike downed man and horse alike. Fortunately, the men around him were well disciplined and trained, enough that a few losses did not sway them unduly. As the riders closed with the target, Kendrik knew it was time. In the confusion of battle, it was easy to lose track of things and have orders go unheard or even outright ignored. Thus, it was important to train ahead of time, to ensure all riders knew their tasks before ever stepping foot on the battlefield. Where the infantry relied on shouted orders and drums and flags, the cavalry knew their duty. Without an order, dozens of lances leveled at the saurian baggage train and the Arlekkian cavalry thundered in with a single goal: find the figure in robes. -------------------------------------------- South of the City The assault was going well so far, Madog had to admit. Moments earlier a section of the wall had been staved in by the bombardment, the accuracy of the siege engines standing as a testament to the engineers who operated them. Masonry and dust cascaded down from the gaping hole in the wall as the siege engines ceased to fire, their work done for now. Madog nodded once to a nearby officer who darted off shouting orders. In short order he heard the iron clank of the army around him moving and mobilizing. The time had come, the moment was now. In the dust and debris, even from his distance from the city, he could see movement within the breach. The city's defenders were rushing to block the gap, their spears glinting sporadically as the dust cloud settled. In a clamor of fifes and drums it was the swordsmen, not the pike formations, that marched forth. Their heavy armor ensured a greater survival in the melee of the assault and their heavy, two handed swords would hack through the spears and pikes of the enemy with ease. Madog watched as the men in question marched forward and met with the enemy, their armor and blades glinting in the sunlight. They would make or break this assault and no one else. It was what they were trained, in part, to do. As the fighting began, the rest of the army prepared to assault as well for if the breach were forced open, then it fell to the mass of the army to win the day. After all, sieges weren't won in hours or days, they were won in minutes and moments. Taun-Lok Mirielle Merlon Elrid Acfream Thraka Warchanter Aldacer
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Post by Lyian Elerron on Feb 10, 2017 20:26:54 GMT
**Airborne, Coming in between the North and West gatehouses**Airships born of engineering could be heard from many miles away if they had their propellers running, even if just a chop of the air. Airships born of magical artifice, however, were borne upon the winds with relative silence. The Elves aboard this airship, however, were hardly silent. Upon the winds, winding through the sounds of battle, magically enhanced voices sang out to the winds, amalgamated into one sound. Weaving through that was the sound of small pipes, adding emphasis to the Elvish war song. The ship looked similar to an Elven made craft of the sea, except for the ring of arcane energy that both held it aloft and offered propulsion. This ring was a soft violet in color, and maintained by a rotating team of mages. Violet also marked sails along the keel, and other strategic places of the hull, glowing with arcane brilliance. The Captain and mages of the crew weren't alone on this trip, for once. Normally this ship sailed around Aida acting as a mobile defense base for the border. However, with it's new sister ship operational, and with such a massive force assembled to bring low one of the many unholy places that had been allowed to fester since the fall of the Empire, Aida had decided to make it's presence felt. And they were fashionably late to the party, it's deck holding it's capacity of Knights, Scouts, and Mages. Along side the arcane marvel, rode a thousand gryphon riding knights, each with a scout riding behind. The air above Vaundsburg was now held by the Elves, and the song changed. As the airship approached the wall, it angled down, approaching the ground swiftly. Mages lifted their attendant parties of knights and scouts, while other scouts descended on lines from within the holds, Knights following suit. Among these more adventurous Elves was a single Wayfinder. Each were coming down on or behind the wall. Such was the rarity of aerial warfare, that only the most prepared of the siege equipment that weren't actively engaging the army of large Lizardmen to the North were taking shots at the approaching ship and gryphon riders. Gryphon borne scouts returned fire, and thousands of arrows filled the sky, each angling for a siege engineer. Firing from gryphon back was fairly difficult, and more arrows went askew then hit targets, but the onslaught still had all but the most reckless engineers ducking for cover. Then the Elves from the ship landed and the close in fighting began. __ Lyian felt the line slide through his gloved fingers as he approached the ground. With a slight shift of his hips and a dip of his head, he rolled away from the line as he neared the ground, rolling up to standing faster than a blink, and moving forward to take an enemy knight into combat. His enchanted blade was out, and practically sang as he slid forward, then kicked at the kneecap of the knight. He blocked an incoming blow as his foot connected, doing nothing more than starling the knight. Then the enchanted blade angled as Lyian stepped past the flatfooted knight, sliding away from the blade it had blocked and striking like an adder with a slash to the throat. The blade seemed to home in on the weak part of the gorget, where it met the chin, and sheared through the chainmail there. The throat was slit as he looked for his second target, angling for the nearest mangonel. Around him and behind the wall, groups of Mages, Knights, and Scouts engaged in medieval squad based combat. Each team held two mages, four Knights, and six scouts. Though the people were never uniform, the balance of the groups would hold a defensive mage, offerin shielding and healing, an offensive mage wielding war magics, two defensive knights, providing bulwarks against enemy forces with swords and shields, two offensive knights engaging flanking enemies with dual blades, and the six scouts in the center, sniping at the enemy with calm accuracy. These groups moved with a grace born of long training, and attempted to seize and destroy the siege equipment. Above, the airship hovered, more mages and scouts filled the gunwales. While the scouts struck out with arrows, adding to the deluge from the gryphon riders, the mages were all silent and unmoving, watching the battle unfold for the moment from their high perch. Taun-Lok Mirielle Merlon Thraka Warchanter Madog Hier Aldacer
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Post by Elrid Acfream on Feb 12, 2017 23:08:46 GMT
Between North-East Towers
Elrid stood and watched as the city began to crumble. Walls were blasted open, gates collapsed, and strange magics wreaked havoc. She stood with her bow held loosely in her hand, her huscarls around her. They were silent. All of them had seen combat before and been raised as huntsman in Acholt. Death was how they lived. They had hunted wolf and bear and troll, even fighting off small raiding parties of brigands or orcs from the mountains.
But this? This was something different. They had never seen such a large city before, let alone one's destruction. And the size of the armies that could be mustered! She couldn't even count them all, but they seemed to be in the thousands. The lizard warriors had stayed far away from them, seemingly ushered away by mounted members, officers, perhaps.
They were of little import in a battle at this scale.
Then a flying vessel appeared in the air and the blood drained from her face. What magics was that? How could such a thing stay aloft? If a leaf loosed from the tree could not float upon the sky, how could such a massive thing?
She swallowed nervously and turned to look at the city. While she knew an undead vampire empire was a threat to her people, this threat would cease to exist. But what of these others? She would have to think about that for a long time.
But they could play their part in this. Her people knew how to climb and how to stick together. That would count for something.
She studied the closest tower and the walls around it. It was just tall enough they could make it. From there, the shields and axes should be able to do the rest. Once the tower was cleared, they could move to take the gate-house. It could be costly though.
"Stone formation!" She called out above the distant din, hefting a horn to her lips and giving several short blows. Her warriors formed around her, shields together and interlocked, while the rest used the wood that had found to put together mobile wooden walls. Heavy, and needing two people to carry, they weren't meant for fast movement, but would protect the archers.
She blew another round of notes through the horn and they advanced. Only the huscarls in the tight formation, while the rest spread out and wove their way forward.
Elrid's heart pounded in her ears as they pressed forward. Defender's arrows began to plow into the oak shields, but they stood firm and continued forward. More arrows whistled in her ears as her people began to loose their arrows in return. No volleys or formations, just men and women who knew how to use bows at their best.
Still the formation trundled forward to the walls that stood next to the tower. The rain of arrows slowed and they pulled out hooked ropes from their packs. Normally used to pull down trees or get to their highest limbs, this would be quite different. The formation parted for a moment as the hooks soared up to the battlements. She heard the clank as they settled onto the stone and the huscarls began to climb, pulling themselves hand over hand and walking up the walls while the hounds bayed in the distance, eager to assist their masters.
But the time was not yet for that.
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Post by Solaiel on Feb 13, 2017 0:35:16 GMT
BAGGAGE TRAIN EDGE OF THE RIVER NORTH OF UNTERGAUNG Then suddenly massive wings beating down could be heard as wind whipped furiously at the Princess Mirielle of Ashdell. The down force of his wings were even enough to shift the river water violently in all directions as if a storm was brewing overhead. Dawnbreaker had come into close contact with Mirelle once before. She had taken refuge on a dwarven airship in the air above Ethenveld. A meddlesome overgrown gryphon had managed to keep the ship from getting destroyed by engaging Solaiel in the air. However, there was no Dawnbringer to save her this time. Before the saurian forces or the cavalry could react, the high born dragon was already reaching down and surrounding the princess with three nearly man sized claws. The talon closed around her gently enough that she'd find that she had to actually hold onto one of them for dear life to avoid slipping through as the dragon suddenly rose high into the air with just a few strokes of his wings. The creature's intent was unclear, but now she was in danger of death from a great fall if she resisted her captor. It was hard to see while moving through the air so quickly, but it was clear that they were moving towards the besieged city. The princess was certainly a target of reptiles as of late for some reason. Mirielle Merlon Madog Hier Taun-Lok
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Feb 13, 2017 2:42:03 GMT
Taun-Lok Solaiel Madog HierThere was nowhere to go but the water. The saurian mount balked in the shallows, a swimmer but not a dedicated one. And as that cavalry charge drew closer, the mount twitched and brayed. Miri finished wrapping oilcloth around her sketchbook, one eye on the charge, and prepared to jump into the river. She made an inarticulate sound as gigantic claws closed around her and tore her from the saddle. The ground fell away with stunning rapidity. She clung to her sketchbook, the nearest claw, and control of her bladder. Between the dragon's digits, she caught a glimpse of the cavalry reacting to the flyby - or, perhaps, her disappearance. Wind tore at her hair, stole her hat, and threatened to loosen her bowels every time she so much as twitched toward a gap in the claws. Some part of her mind kept recognizing and processing information despite her panic. This dragon resembled the one she'd seen over Ethenveld Castle, in size, colour, and - so far as she could tell - general proportion. Ethenveld was a bit of a distance to the north; how far did the dragon's territory extend? Then again, distance probably meant something very different to a creature with wings the size of warships.
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Post by Solaiel on Feb 14, 2017 1:30:03 GMT
Dawnbreaker's wings were able to move him around a battlefield at alarming speed. In less than half an hour he could cover the ground that a man on horseback would take in a full day. In this case the beast was slowed down by flying somewhat close to the ground. Soaring higher would have been the safer choice, but the woman that he had snatched would be fragile to high altitudes. It took years of training for dragon riders to master the rigor of flight. Still they were moving faster than any could engage them. If Mirielle could calm her nerves she would have noticed a once in a lifetime opportunity to see a battlefield in a way that few else could. The sight of the charging saurian forces gave way to the besieged walls. In just a matter of moments they passed over the city itself. Soldiers seemed like ants as they scrambled to the walls. Ballistae and bows turned to track the dragon, but the beast was already out of range once the bolts were loosed. It wasn't long before the two of them were off into the horizon over the ocean. There was an island in that direction that the dragon sought. [Exit Thread] Mirielle Merlon
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Post by Thraka Warchanter on Feb 14, 2017 11:19:40 GMT
Madog Hier Taun-Lok Elrid Acfream Lyian Elerron Jack Aldacer Location: Still to the west. The bellowing chieftain watched as he awaited a response. More fires, more blasts. Then, his resounding response came as the strange, large seige engine knocked a shaft upon it, and fired, aiming squarely at his head. Thraka raised his staff of petrified wood, swatting the large bolt aside with a swing. He then waved, his brotehrs and sisters, his erd, slowly advancing, shields raised at an angle to block arrows and slings. He stood behind them by a few feet, but advance slowly. As they came closer, arrows were loosed upon the trampling squad of minotaur partisans. The arrows bounced off of the tower shields of hewn stone, littering the field. Thraka clung closer to the shilelds during the volley, and then watched as little occured. How few seemd to guard this gate. Were the other armies really providing so great a distraction? Good. Less for him to risk losing family and allies against, after all. The shaman of a fallen clan, the Seeker of the Labyrinth bellowed again. "Flee, and we shall not pursue. Stand against us, and we shall gladly trample you! TUUUUNNNNN---RRAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!" He roared out a command, and all the minotaurs stopped for but a moment, to beat ther shiles against the dirt and bellow loudly. They all roared, as a pack of the wildest and bravest could bellow, liek the lowing of an angry herd and the cries of a raging mob. Then again they trudged, closer to the wall. Another hundred feet to the gate. Another bolt was launched, as where two stones from the mangonels. Thraka leapt up, strikign the bolt as the two spheres bounced off the stone phalanx He growled. "Very well," he muttered as he held his staff aloft, running towards the gate and hurtling the staff as though it were a light javelin. Seige crews expect many things. Opposed seige strikes, specialized raiders, even gifted sappers. However, the crew of the ballista above the western gate hosue did not expect a minotaur to throw a staff weighing a few hudnred pounds directly at them. They did not expect it to hit. They especially did not expect it to land directly in the tension wires of the mechanism, cuasing drawn steel wires to snap and lash out at two of the operators, injuring their arms severely. He bellowed again. "Flee if you wish to remain alive!" It was Thraka's last warning. He hoped someone would heed it.
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Post by Taun-Lok on Feb 20, 2017 19:37:40 GMT
Northern Gates
North-North East The Scarbloods advance continued into the city slowly and methodically, stone shields and clubs lashing out into the ranks of the living and undead, smashing heads and chest cavities as they marched forward in their ranks. Dor-rok and his siege beast rumbled through a building, three horns and scaled hide smashing through the wood and stone structure of what seemed to be a two or three story slum, pressing into the city proper. The commanders on their large apex predators stalked through the city streets, ordering packs of saurian warriors in ordered battle to begin sacking and burning the city as a whole while the main line pressed towards the heaviest fighting.
North-North West Skirmishing packs of lizard warriors supported by the massive beastspawn warriors raided into the city, moving into buildings and using guerrilla tactics on the regiments moving to reinforce the northern parts of the city in the streets. Saurian roars, fires, and the sounds of small scale conflicts began erupting in the northern quarter of the city as humans and undead fought against the Crokodon holy warriors, both sides taking casualties and losses.
Northern Gatehouse Taun-Lok's mount had taken a spear into its throat and was fading as the Priest-King lead the first war in his lengthy campaign, smashing human and death knight alike with the Sun Mace brandishing the power of his patron god. The fighting in the courtyard had shifted in favor of the saurian crusaders, but only slightly. One on one fights were not uncommon as skull-helmed Sunbloods fought against the remnant of the Death Knight forces in duels, other crokodon fighting against humans and lesser undead in a mass without any semblance of order or ranks.
The archers on the walls and the gatehouse had ceased their volleys into the invading lizards as they too fell under attack as the stairs slowly fell to the lizard warriors advance. The back group of twelve foot tall bowmen and other crewed great bows stopped firing, moving forward with the rest of the army as it struggled to break through into the city.
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Post by Elrid Acfream on Feb 25, 2017 20:59:13 GMT
North-East Towers
Her arms burned and birds flitted through her stomach as she cast a quick look down. Her huscarls huddled around the bottom of the rope, preparing to climb up after her and join her on the walls. The mail she wore clicnked softly. She looked back up, peering through the eye-slits in her helm. The top of the wall loomed above her.
Then she was up and over the edge, behind a grim shield-wall of the first men who climbed atop. Elrid slipped her shield onto her arm and hefted her axe in her other hand as she took her place in the center of the shield-wall. A thrill coursed through her veins as she stared ahead to the enemy. Undead by the looks of them, bodies in various stages of decay.
She rolled her shoulders.
"Forelocian! Andustranga!" Her voice echoed out across the walls. "Aflygennes!" Her huscarls raised up a mighty should that resounded off the walls, beating their shields with the ax-hafts. They surged forward, shields still locked together towards the gatehouse tower. The undead shuffled forward, breaking into a run. "Hold!" Elrid yelled. "Shield lock!"
They stopped and overlapped their shields, spears pushing forward through the gaps as the ranks of the dead crested, like waves upon the shore. Elrid gritted her teeth and caught a sword blow on her shield. Exhilaration surged through her and she struck back with the long handled axe, knocking the undead to the ground where it was trod upon by its fellows.
Then it was nothing but madness and the battle-fury. Her axe rose and fell in mighty strokes, hewing at the foe that would approach.
"Acholt!" She called out, "árweorðnes be Acholt!" She felt the Acholt in her blood now, that wild ageless fury of ancient storms, of winds that howled from the mountains snow-sharp and cold, of sun-dried summers, and rivers swollen with snow-melt. She caught a glimpse of the Acholt, its green form leaf-clothed beneath a stag's antlers.
A battle-axe buried itself in her shield and she dropped it, holding the axe in two hands. She lunged forward, catching the assailant in the knees. He toppled like a sapling. Blood ran down her hands as she pushed forward, the huscarls falling in behind her, trying to protect her from arrows and attacks from the side.
Elrid noticed none. She saw nothing but the foe before her and the gatehouse.
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