Stradia: The Fourth War - Chapter 1 "The North Falls"

[Azisien]

Gole

Gorn's man at arms shouted out orders that caused a chain reaction around the northern gates. Civilians now dispersed from the crowd, fleeing to the side of the street or back to their homes to make room for the increasing number of soldiers filing in from other parts of the village after the initial alarm. Loki ran off, and several others followed; probably to alert their friends and get their equipment. One of the archers above the northern gate blasted his signal horn. Two regular guards moved past Vincent and Gorn to pick up the scout and carry him off to the village temple.

Within minutes, the northern area was a flurry of activity. Thom Brethrid, the stablemaster of Gole, had led a parade of three hundred horses across half the village and, along with every stable boy and even a few random bystanders, was currently loaning them out to the militia who would be riding to meet the threat.

One hundred armed and ready militia already waited outside of the village gates, while another hundred others wrestled around in the beehive of activity within. Some were trying to get to the horses, others to the barracks to fetch their weapons and armor, and a good portion probably just wanted out to get some air. Gorn and his aides had moved near some of the houses beside the street, with Vincent and Penn in tow.

Gorn's expression was surprisingly neutral given the flurry of activity before him and the coming battle. "Thank you both, you saved that man's life. Ranger, you should join your comrades and meet the enemy in the coming battle. Your horses are at the private stable as always, I made sure Mr. Brethrid would not give them away."

Then, the elf and mayor turned to Vincent more personally. "My friend...I have a favor to ask of you, and you will not like it. I ask that you ride with this company into battle. You should not face the enemy on the front line, but there will be many wounded. I believe you could save many so that they may live to see another sunrise. I leave the final decision to you, but if you'll excuse me I have pressing matters to attend to." With that, Gorn walked off in the direction of the Border Ranger guild house.

One hundred and twenty humans, elves, and even a few dwarves were now ready to depart outside the village gates. Arne Altreas and six other Border Rangers galloped away on their horses in full combat gear ahead of the main force. They would confirm the enemy size and position and report back to the main company enroute.

*****

One of the militia sergeants entered through the hole in the tent canvas and blasted his signal horn rudely. Three quarters of the bunk, several naked, jumped out of their places or fell off their bunks like frightened cats. The sergeant bellowed. "Move out! A Venurian force is close to the village and we're riding out to meet them! Get your gear and get over to the north gate, where a horse waits for you! Move!"

Fifty men all started getting dressed for battle simultaneously as the sergeant continued to yell. "I've seen trolls put leather armor on faster than that! Let's go, Rodrick! Yes, the sharp end of the sword goes in that way! Bentis, you don't even wear armor, get out there! No, you don't need your gods damn bedrolls! Move move move!"

*********

Six miles northeast of Gole

Zoreg lumbered forward and shouted at Brass. "Whatchoo doin'! Now we gave away our...our..."

Oyo came to the verbal aid of the troll lieutenant. "Position."

Mithik felt a sigh building up as he watched Zoreg, but managed to suppress it. "Brass, get back in formation." The gargoyle turned to the rest of their company, three hundred strong, and it was only a part of the tenth that Jyde had given to them. The rest of the forward harassment regiment stayed back at their hidden camp. Moving in large numbers was risky, and right now they didn't have the manpower to fight off a real army, so they moved in smaller, coordinated groups. "Everyone, back in formation! Prepare for battle..." He thought about it for a moment. "Or orderly retreat!"

Zoreg's head whipped around, his hideous face shocked. "Retreat?!"

Oyo jumped in this time. "We have no idea what kind of force the Kenshurians will send at us. We're not here to do grand battle or lay siege. They might send one thousand against us, in which case, it's in our best interest to retreat."

"Bah, I crush one thowsand Kenzhurians myselvf!"

"Leave the real tactical decisions to the brains, Zoreg." Mithik groaned. Zoreg was becoming a bigger and bigger nuisance since his promotion. He was a fine warrior and he could somehow manage a few squads of his own kind, but if Venuria's forces had been commanded by a troll general, half of the army would likely find itself drowning in the western sea.

Oyo surveyed the terrain. "There's a dip in the plains over there." The human lieutenant pointed eastward. "We could conceal some of the company. No trees in sight, so forget that."

Mithik glanced to the dip Oyo was talking about and considered it earnestly. "I suggest we move most of the archers behind the dip with some spear cover and display the rest of the force proudly to the Kenshurians. We can move north a few hundred feet and take the Kenshurians by surprise. A couple volleys should peel their numbers back, before they even know what hit them."

[Mintaro]

Penn was glad the scout would be living. He would have to study more healing in the future. When Gorn thanked him he just smiled and waved like it was no big deal. Really it wasn't, he had just done what any man would do.

Penn stood up and walked carefully back to the Rangers guild house. His normal quick lope gone until his energy came back. When he arrived the first thing he did was wolf down stew and bread. It was far too delicious. He would have to remind the cooks to keep the stew more watered down in the future, but for now it was nice to have a decent meal before a battle. It only took him a few minutes to eat, it was a skill he had developed being on the move so often. His strength feeling mostly returned he went quickly to the stables.

A young boy with straw laden hair was running about directing rangers to their mounts. "Jimmy, I'll take Rathimeer's mount." He called at him. The boy Jimmy turned around and nodded. Looking around confusedly for Rathimeer himself. Rathimeer had been the commanding officer that had died on the scouting mission. He knew that the man would want Penn to use his horse. After all it was a real warhorse. Not many like it in he Ranger stables.

Jimmy led up a large strong black stallion. Penn grabbed a hold of the reins and waved the boy away. Taking the horse to the equipment shed himself. He searched out the special saddle and armor pieces that had belonged to Raithimeer. Fastening them on one at a time. He pulled out a carrot from his satchel and fed it to the mighty steed. "Ok now bud, I know I'm not who your used to but I'm going to take good care of you." He scratched the horses ears for him. The horse seemed to nod knowingly.

Putting his foot in the stirrup and mounted gracefully. Nudging the horse gently he trotted out towards where the defense force was gathering. He looked around sadly. So many untrained men, marching to what will likely be there deaths. Penn spotted a shiny little man walking amongst the horses feet. That was one man that would likely live to see tomorrow. Riding forward he leaned down and offered a hand up. "I have room for two." Penn said addressing the dwarf. He gestured to the double saddle that was resting on the back of the large creature.

[Aieris]

The noise of marching militia men that had woken her was nothing compared to the din that now arose in the direction of the northern gates. Blasting horns and the gruff shouts of military men suggested something of importance, and Aieris was quick to move against the retreating flow of civilians towards the gates.

As she approached the gates, signs of a hurried mobilization were clearly evident. Much of the main road was taken up by squads of soldiers or horses, so Aieris kept to the side of the street as much as possible. As she passed by the tents that had been set up for the recently recruited militia to bunk in, she could hear the frequent curses of sergeants trying to get the undisciplined rabble they commanded on their feet and out the door.

It was as she passed one of these nondescript tents, with the screams of a sergeant still audible inside, that she was run over by some eager beaver, seemingly too interested in hurrying to his death than watching where he was going. The two tumbled to the ground, and as she pushed herself up and dusted herself off, Aieris prepared herself to seem haughty and indifferent in the face of the coming apologies from the buffoon that had run her over.

She was therefore surprised to see the young man pick up a staff he had dropped in the fall, dust himself off, and continue on his way without even a glance at her. Quickly jumping after the adolescent, she put a hand on his shoulder and swung him to face her as she began with a demanding tone “Hey, boy, what’s going on here?”

As the youth turned to her, she saw that he was a highly unremarkable young human male. With a mess of light brown hair sitting raggedly atop a set of green eyes, and a tanned, slightly muscular body covered by some of the more nondescript clothing she had seen in a long time, her first thoughts were of a beggar, a street urchin, or a thief. And as the boy began to speak, her opinion was only verified.

“We’re ridin’ out to meet them Venurian dogs. An’ watch what you be sayin’. ‘Ain’t polite to be makin’ assumptions about someone ya just knocked over. Besides, you best be runnin’ off a’fore you break a nail or some such” the boy said with a smirk. It seemed that his grasp of speech was as crude as his grasp of personal hygiene.

As the young man turned and jogged away impudently, Aieries’ eyes shone with a flame of anger and delight. With her eyes still alight, she found the nearest stable master and glared them into providing her a horse. Not many commoners will ignore the demands of a woman stroking the hilt of a dagger, much less one whose eyes are literally alight with the flame of a small torch.

As she mounted the horse that had been supplied to her she hoped this outing would not be long. She also hoped that she could keep some Venurians alive long enough to question. The possibility of finding her godparents was still minimal, but she had to try.

Turning the horse and cantering out the north gates, she began to look for the impudent young whelp who had so insulted, and intrigued her. She would see him take back the comment about breaking a nail, or she would see him dead. Either one suited her nicely.

[TheBlindMime]

Loki came to a sharp stop in the forge, knocking aside the door as he bellowed, "Venurian soldiers approaching, to arms!" All the men rushed for the door save for one sturdy old dwarf who continued to polish an axe.

Loki grabbed the arm of one of the human men and motioned towards the old dwarf, an instant look of understanding graced him. "Morrn, Venurian attack force headed this way!"

"Whoi didnna yah say soonah lad!" Morrn jumped to attention, hobbled to the door as quick as he could knocking aside Loki as he did. "A true dwarf could nought mizz a foight like this!"

Loki just watched motionless, a pang of sorrow echoed in the silence of the now still forge.

Moments later Loki was donning his helmet and on the path towards the gate, he'd been practicing putting on his armor and was sure he'd gotten it on in record time today. Loki was pushed aside however as a long line of dwarves shoved him aside.

"To Arms, To Arms!", "Foight young dwarves foight!", "Fight for you clans!".

Loki's paced slowed, his emerald eyes studied the figures that did there best to pass and shove him aside all at once. As Loki stared on he heard a voice call out behind him.

Originally Posted by Penn

"I have room for two."

Loki looked up to Penn with a happy-go-lucky smile, "That's far to kind of you suh!" Loki took Penn's hand and hoisted himself on to the massive stallion with only a hair of difficulty. As the horse began a faster trot towards the gate Loki's hammers made a pleasant jingling sound against his armor. "The name's Loki friend, and you are?"

[Mintaro]

Penn smiled grimly as he advanced closer to the front of the ranks. "I am Penn Balthieer. A border Ranger born and bred. I must say though you are an odd sight. You don't see many humans as short as yourself. But don't worry, I'll look after you." The lines of troops were forming up. Penn and his companion Loki were near the front with a group of 14 Rangers. Their Green and brown cloaks waving slightly in the afternoon breeze.

Penn waited patiently, patting his mount gently to reassure him. Soon they would be on the move. Then it would be only a shot time until the battle. One thing kept nagging at Penn however. Three hundred strong? Why would they send such a small segment of their force ahead of them? They could have moved in full and wiped us out. It looked like Penn would have to be grateful for the mistake of his enemies.

[Jtab]

"Move out! A Venurian force is close to the village and we're riding out to meet them! Get your gear and get over to the north gate, where a horse waits for you! Move!"

Bentis bolted upright, woken by the shouting of his Sergeant. Scrambling to his feet, Bentis sheathed his knife in a strap on the back of his right leg while blocking out the Sergeant’s continued barking. Glancing around one last time, he found little use for any item left in the room other then his staff. Taking a deep breath he grabbed his dependable quarterstaff and rushed out the tent.

*THUD* In his haste, it seems Bentis had ran into someone. No matter, he had to get to a horse. This would be the first time he faced an opponent armed with more then a dagger. The possibility of death was apparent in his mind, but the adrenaline soaked away much of the fear he felt. Scooping up his staff, Bentis continued towards the northern gate.

Suddenly, the young man is facing back south. Confusion subsides as he notices a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, boy, what’s going on here?” the figure demands. Taking a moment to look her over, Bentis promptly realizes this rude individual is in fact a young female elf. He had grown accustom to the snootiness of the common elves of Midgaard, but this was truly something else. A militia man rushing to the defense of the city should command some respect from those he defends! Another scan of the rude elf revealed a black dress with red trim and seemingly patches of leather… a rather odd outfit indeed. Too fancy for a commoner, yet leather patches are not something worn in high society. Regardless, the elf asked a question and deserves a response.

“We’re ridin’ out to meet them Venurian dogs. An’ watch what you be sayin’. ‘Ain’t polite to be makin’ assumptions about someone ya just knocked over. Besides, you best be runnin’ off a’fore you break a nail or some such.” Bentis grinned as he answered the elf.

Bentis felt as if that grin would last all day, as he marched to the north gate, because little was more satisfying to the young rogue then knocking a pompous jerk down a peg. As he closed in on the gate, he spotted a horse without a rider. With a fair amount of difficulty, Bentis mounted the horse while leaning his staff against its side. Grasping the reins in his left hand and his staff in his right, he took off at a cautious speed and quickly closed the gap between himself and his goal, the northern gate.

[Akamaz]

"One wonders where you are going in such a hurry?" Ishva asked Talen as he ran past, his little dagger held tightly in one dirty hand.

"Not that it's any business of yours, Teacher, but I'm heading out the gate with them." He said as he barely paused in his loping run.

"Stay close by me then, One wishes to get a closer view of our enemy and perhaps see a weakness that can be exploited. Please do try to keep up."

Hopefully he'll get tired after a mile or so and walk back she thought to herself.

After a few moments of Meditation, Ishva performed a small modification of her circulatory system, causing oxygen and nutrients to flow much more easily to her muscles. ((shapeshifting 1 faster running speed))

Following the Column of horse was no easy task, the dust that they kicked up that marked their passing made her glad that she was running along the side of the road.

[Barahad]

The men under Graeme’s tutelage quickly found themselves being ordered about by the militia sergeants, and they hurried away from the training field to take their positions for the coming battle. All around him, Graeme could see and hear the organization of Gole’s defence. Men, elves, and dwarves were saddling horses to conduct a sortie against the approaching Venurians. If successful, the sortie would serve to turn them away for a time, and break – at least momentarily – their grip on the area around Gole. Graeme needed his horse. He would join the mounted company at the north gate.

Graeme did not tarry at the training field: hurried to reach the stables as quickly as he could. On his arrival, he saw his horse waiting for him, already saddled. Perhaps all the horses had been saddled as a precaution, but he was grateful to whomever had done it. His mount pawed the ground and whinnied eagerly. “Soon, my friend, soon.” Graeme assured him, patting his flank and checking all the straps before swinging into the saddle. His spear was secured under the right stirrup by two custom fitted leather straps. Releasing them, he lifted his spear. It would serve him in the opening moments of the battle.

He turned quickly upon exiting the stable, and urged his horse through the crowds. Defenders and citizens were mixed together as the leaders of the village sought to order their people to best defend them in the coming battle. It was a matter of minutes before he reached the north gate, and the head of the assembling company of mounted warriors. Spying an officer, he edged forward and introduced himself.

“Graeme Oakhill of the long patrol at your service,” the captain barely glanced at him before waving his hand tiredly in the air.

“We must wait on the scouts before we organize the attack. For the moment, know that you are welcome amongst the men of the mounted company, but you must wait for further orders.” He turned away then to deal with one of his lieutenants, who seemed to be scrambling to assemble his men.

“Of course, captain,” Graeme knew the man’s attention was elsewhere, so he turned to examine the assembling militia-men. The mounted company, at this moment, seemed to be hopelessly disorganized. He suppressed the urge to shake his head, and whispered silent prayers to Avelia and Bahamut. He could only hope the company sorted out its formation before they were forced to face the enemy.

If and when the attack formed, Graeme vowed to be near one of the flanks: there would be enough men eager to take their place in the van, for honour and glory. For his part, Graeme would be content to shepherd the sides of whatever formation they adopted. This would allow him greater freedom of movement, and a better chance to take the initiative. There was nothing to do now but wait for the instructions to come down from the company's officers. For now, he would conserve his strength, and stay alert.

[Ladybug]

Originally Posted by Azisien

"Whatchoo doin'! Now we gave away our...our..."
Oyo came to the verbal aid of the troll lieutenant. "Position."
Mithik felt a sigh building up as he watched Zoreg, but managed to suppress it. "Brass, get back in formation."

Brass moved silently back to the forces. He hadn't thought of thier position, he was used to killing all witnesses. Wouldn't the scout have told them our position anyway? He wondered as orders were given to retreat, then to move to their new position. Man, I am really unsuited for military life.... ah well, it could have been worse.

[Lumenskir]

“I’ll take my some of my contingent along with Zarog’s to the north, cloak them best I can. They won’t see us coming.” Ariosto realized a half-moment too late that he had missed the opportunity to capitalize on his accidental wordplay, but deemed it too risky to double back and accentuate it. “I’ll only need a few of the best warriors, enough to strike hard and fast before they can get their bearings.” He cursed his subconscious.

“Sounds like a good plan.” Mithik concurred. Oyo said nothing.

“Heh heh! They won’t see us coming!” Zarog was not one to miss a joke.

“Yes, Zarog, we will be hidden. Take your best warriors over there and play dead.” As the troll lumbered off, smacking a few of his brethren into compliance, Ariosto wondered if he hadn’t accidentally enchanted the lieutenant at some point. He then thought about how bad a literal command like that could be. He identified the gargoyle who speared the escapee and approached the yellow soldier. “You, Brass. Not too shabby with that weapon, I could use your expertise. Go with Zarog…make sure he doesn’t let the troops get overzealous. I’ll be back.”

Ariosto broke off from the battlefield, approaching their makeshift semi-camp. His tent loomed among the ramshackle, enchanted to appear larger than it actually was on the outside, although it did cause confusion sometimes when the cramped innards were viewed. Opening the flap, he was greeted by Phillip rushing the light, only to throw himself back in using a very entertaining exhibition of self mortification.

“Why does that keep happening?” Phillip rubbed his head and groin.

“Because you really want to stay here?” Ariosto offered, rummaging through his things for the instruments he needed.

“But I want to go home, I want my family!”

“Well, you’re immediate family is already dead. If your extended family lives in Gole, they will be dead by week’s end. Unless Avelia herself, riding upon the wings of Bahamut, decides to intervene, everything of your civilization as you know it will be a folk tale I tell my children to get a laugh. So, forget your bygones and realize this Phillip; I am your best hope for a normal, and actually lived life from this point on. Have you been touching my things?”

“What?”

Ariosto held up a wooden carving of what appeared to be a jellyfish constructed of an inside-out brain. “This was humanesque when I left. It is a specially conjured piece of wood that incorporates enchanting practi…it changes if you touch it.” The enchanter began to actually inspect the new figure, seeing what it was instead of what of his it wasn’t. “What is it?”

“I dunno…I dreamed it once. It follows your bad thoughts and makes you crazy.”

“Oh…hmm.” Ariosto twisted the object entranced for a moment before it became a simple wooden block that he set down. He pocketed the stones he had come back for and left, Phillip utterly perplexed in his wake.

Back at the battleground, Ariosto dropped one of the stones every few feet between the gathered soldiers, then stood to address them. “Ok, if you lie down within a few feet of these stones, from far enough away you’ll look like dead humans. The enemy shouldn’t take much notice of a few more dead bodies, which would allow us to ambush them on my or Zarog’s command. Zarog will now translate that for the trolls.”

Zarog walked behind one of the trolls and knocked it on the head. “Get down!” The troll rubbed its head as it settled onto the ground, allowing itself to be perfectly kicked in the ribs by Zarog. “Stay down!” Another kick. “Till I say get up.” He then punched a nearby troll in the face. “You all too! Got it!?” The trolls mulled this over before settling down by the stones.

“Excellent, thank you, Zarog. I can only see this going well."