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Post by Anton Severin on Jan 8, 2017 10:39:26 GMT
Harrier Wren Valerija ast Macharia Luca da Conti Eirikr Norling @skralk Michael Decatur Anton was among the thirty or so that Dasha had described to Luca as locals. He was clad in a bluish-green silk jacket with slightly oversized sleeves, a pair of dark blue pants, and some rather simple green slippers. Both of his hands were wrapped with what looked like purple scarves twisted into cords and wrapped around in either hands. A monk in rich embroidered silks, what better to defend the city of coin with? He smiled to Luca. "I'm sorry so many folksare tied up in the Purple district. I'll have to be pretty damn impressive to make up for it," the silk seller said with a smirk, winking playfully at the goblin beside the fellow who was obviously in charge. He looked to Luca thoughtfully. They'd never met, but he'd heard of the man on occasion. Mercenary with a knack for knowing the right move at the right place at the right time. "I'll lend a hand. Would you rather I aimed for the docks or the beach?" He inquired, looking towards the boats and squinting. "Don't know how many of them I can take, but I'm certain they're bringing more than that. I'll do what I can, but seeing as I liek a few more blades not aimed at my back, I'd prefer to accompany a squad of your men if it can be allowed," he said with a nod.
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Post by Eirikr Norling on Jan 10, 2017 6:35:55 GMT
Men and horse collided in a mighty crash of metal and flesh. He watched as men were pierced by lances, the metal tips punching through wooden shield and muscle with ease. He saw horses brought down by Suthurmenn shields, their riders tossed to the ground. Blood soaked the sand and stained the sea with the speed only battle can bring, the crimson tide washing around the Suthurmenn's ankles. Norling slapped the hornman on the shoulder, the lance charge thwarted, at least to an extent. Lance cavalry would have to discard their primary weapon and rely on their swords and sabers. Here was where his men would shine and the hornman knew his job after countless raids such as this. A single, long blast sounded over the din of combat and the Suthermenn shifted their tactics. Men bulled through dead bodies and cut down riderless horses that got in their way as they attempted to force the fight from the small number of squares to a proper shield wall. Norling didn't wait to make sure his men followed their orders and leaped from the bow of his ship, the seawater splashing high as his feet hit the shallows. The fighting had begun in earnest as ax crossed blade. The Jarl kicked away a corpse from his path, barely bothering to notice it was the body of a raider, his chest pierced through by a lance. A horse reared up in his path and he cut it down with a swing of the ax in his hand, tossing the rider from the saddle and into the waves. Grinning wildly, the bloodlust clear in his eyes, Norling waited for the armored man to scrabble from the waves before slamming the edge of his round shield into the man's helm with a resounding crack. He reached out with the ax in his hand and hooked the man by the neck, yanking him close only to slam the shield's edge into the warrior's helm once more. The metal of the helmet yielded and the helm bent inwards. Laughing, Norling slammed the shield into the man's throat, crushing his windpipe, before tossing the gurgling lancer into the water. The battle had begun, blood had been shed, and as he spotted another rider pulled from his horse into the waiting axes of Suthurmenn raiders, Norling felt he and his men had the advantage. With a great roar, he tossed himself into the fray, his ax seeking the foe. Anton Severin Harrier Wren Valerija ast Macharia Luca da Conti Michael Decatur @skralk
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