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

[Mintaro]

Penn scratched at his chin. After a quick salute he turned his horse to look at the militia men. He quickly picked out 20. Focusing mainly on those armed with Bows. He ended up with 12 Archers and 4 swordsmen and 4 pikemen. They all cued up behind Penn who addressed Vincent. "We can leave once you are ready healer." He said politely.

Penn didn't honestly expect a fight. Which was why he had chosen so many archers. If they found nothing than they would be able to ride in and assist the main force from a farther distance, thus cutting precious moments from the battle. It seemed sound enough. Penn just hoped that this examination would be worth the trouble. "Well Friend Loki, we shall be late to the battle it seems. I hope you do not regret hopping aboard my steed."

[Loki, The Fallen]

During the briefing, Vincent prayed. He prayed for those dying. He prayed for those who were in danger of dying. He prayed for those who would die. But most of all, he prayed for his comrades who would fight to defend the land. The land he lived in.

"I do not know where either of you would be best placed in the coming battle, but I suggest it might be prudent if you, warrior, offer your defence to the healer. I know many in the holy orders have chosen to forswear violent resistance: having another to defend you might be prudent while you tend to the wounded and dying this day."

"That is acceptable to me, if the Father has no objections."

"If you have no objections, I would like you all to accompany our Father to the original battlefield to check for survivors or...Avelia forbid, Venurian treachery. Take a squad of 20 militia with you."

Vincent was humbled by all the care they were taking for him. He didn't want them to worry about him, instead to worry about themselves. But Vince believed he had little chance of defending himself against the Legion they were about to face. I appreciate your concern for my well being. I will try my best not hinder you.

As the majority of the company broke off to prepare for battle, Vincent looked to the sky and said a simple blessing.

May The Light guide our hands and our hearts.

He tightened his pack, and looked to his companions.

“We can leave once you are ready healer.”

Vince bowed his head. As you wish. I am prepared.

[TheBlindMime]

"I do naught regret my decision to join you Lad." I merely regret joining this battle, I've had no one to practice against since I arrived in Gole three years ago. No dwarf looks my way for more then a second and few humans or elves can match a dwarves strength so I've naught had a good duel since I left midgaard.

I've practiced and lived alone for nigh three years now, my only companionship comes from the men who are paid to work under me and an Elf. It is little wonder my own people call me 'traitor' and label me an 'outcast' that is what I am. If I ran now, would it be any different from running from Midgaard... Loki turned towards the legion of dividing men behind him, from their stern faces and determined looks he knew immediately he was the only one with a change of heart.

As his shamed eyes returned to the front they stopped upon Father Vincent. He carried no weapons nor malice, yet he was still charging onto the same field of battle that Loki was. He even seemed almost serene. Staring at Vincent for a moment longer Loki felt his breath steady and his heart rate slow. Fear had taken hold of my courage and led it astray, I shall not let it be taken from me again. Naught this day. Loki pulled free the war hammer Cain and held it at his side, "This battle will have to wait for us Laddie, cause I feel like fighting today. That I do."

[Azisien]

"Get into formation you whelps! You don't want the Venurians to laugh at us, do you? Eighty with me, one hundred with Nord, one hundred with the...Knight." Sergeant Ereagus' motivational shouting was hindered by his lack of knowledge regarding the name of one of the commanders. Still, he continued his high volume insults as the Kenshurian militia, surprisingly, split up into three large groups rather quickly. Off to the side of the three groups, the contingent led by the ranger Penn was ready to depart.

Nord, the man at arms of Gole, waved his sword into the air to signal departure. He smacked his horse lightly and the beast took off at a solid pace. A river of horses and men followed his lead across the plains, closing the distance between themselves and the Venurian raiding party.

******

Another arrow shot into the air, and Mithik immediately turned to his troops. "All right, pretend we're still marching! Move!" All at once, the bulk of the Venurian force turned north and started to march. Oyo or one of his scouts had spotted the Kenshurians approaching. With a little luck, the Kenshurians would think they were dumb enough to not notice their little ranger scouts from earlier. Mithik would have his men play along, and feint ignorance. In reality, he had positioned all of his spearmen at the flank of the company for the inevitable cavalry charge.

If the Kenshurians were stupid, they would also fall for Ariosto's trap and find themselves under attack on two fronts. Oyo and his squad of archers would finish the job.

The Venurians marched very slowly for three minutes, while behind cover Oyo and his squad of sixty archers moved along with them. In the distance, the head of the Kenshurian company poured like a mad river over one of the rolls in the plains. Half a mile to the south, Ariosto, Zoreg, Brass, and forty other Venurian warriors laid among the Kenshurian dead, the enchanted stones concealing them from view.

Nord yelled back to his one hundred, incoherent to all but several close to him. "On my mark we charge and form the spearpoint!" A good distance behind, Graeme rode onwards with his one hundred, among whom were Bentis and Aieris. Sergeant Ereagus guarded the flanks with four smaller groups of twenty.

The distance between Nord and the Venurian flank closed to half a mile. "Mark!!" The man at arms waved his long sword like a mad man, signalling several others behind him to do the same. His steed took off into a full gallop that caused a cascade throughout the company. He and the others near the front fanned out and maintained their lead to create the spear formation that would cut deep into the Venurian lines.

One quarter of a mile. Confusion crept over Nord's face, though no one could see it, as he watched the Venurians ahead. None of the beasts had even bothered to look back yet. Excitement mixed with anxiety; if they were truly this stupid, they would fall within minutes.

One tenth of a mile. Excitement swapped entirely to anxiety; they couldn't be this stupid. Ahead, Lieutenant Mithik bellowed with his powerful gargoyle voice. "Venurians, let us say hello!" All at once, the entire force of two hundred stopped marching and turned on heel. Nord raised his blade and screamed a long, bloody warcry, though even that was not enough to stifle the fear mounting in his heart. With perfect coordination, the entire flank of the Venurian force became a wall of spears.

The two companies hit each other with enough momentum to crack stone. Nord managed to steer his horse between the spear wall and removed the head from one of the trolls who held it. Still moving at full speed, his horse crushed a troll in the second rank and kept going. Others in the front were not so fortunate. Horses and men alike were impaled by the spears, but if one fell, the wall broke, allowing the Kenshurians in the second and third ranks to break the Venurian line. Blood, dirt, and weapons splashed into the air like debris from the two waves hitting each other.

Across the field, the voice of Mithik rang out. "Separate!" Following his orders with a speed and precision that would bring a tear to any drill sergeant's eye, the Venurian group started to split into two groups. The group absorbing the charge from the Kenshurians stayed in place, while the other half created a buffer zone. The lieutenant's motives were anyone's guess.

Nord and his contingent had managed to pierce right into the heart of the first half of the Venurian company, and the man at arms found himself on the ground now, his horse knocked down and probably killed by a particularly eager gargoyle. He fought alongside most of the knights and rangers that had accompanied them, and still they had to work hard for every kill. Those with horses now retreated, while those on foot did their best to maneuver out of the way. It was sloppy at best, but could ask for no more in war.

Graeme and his hundred prepared to smash their way even further into the enemy lines when the Venurians unleashed their next trick. An arrow passed straight through the neck of the horse to Graeme's right and the beast tripped, taking the rider down with it. The fall caused a pile up, and at least two more riders collapsed. A volley of arrows rained down on the second contingent, felling at least a dozen and causing panic and confusion in the rest. "Archers!" The soldiers screamed as another volley appeared from some hiding place to the east. Graeme and the front struck the Venurian line that was still in relative disarray from the first charge. The momentum took at least twenty trolls and gargoyles out of the mortal world, but several militiamen went with them.

The man in front of Bentis fell off his horse as an arrow pierced his skull. Luckily, the horse kept running unhindered. Moments later, Aieris' horse crunched over the dead body of the nameless soldier. Another arrow whizzed by the elf's head.

*******

Penn, Loki, Ishvah, and Vincent stopped before the bloodied resting place of the Kenshurian scouts. One of the twenty men who had accompanied them moved forward, his face horrified. Several others joined him, and they began to fan out to survey the bodies.

"Avelia's Light...Look at them...Sl-slaughtered!"

"Look at these two...One has his sword impaling one of our own...Then his own throat is sliced...He's still holding his dagger. What...Why?"

"They're all dead, this was a waste of time."

"Weez ain't all dead!" A corpse screamed. As the Kenshurians looked up in utter disbelief, the air around the stumbling body seemed to warp and fizzle. A second later, Zoreg the mighty troll lieutenant stood before two Kenshurian swordsmen, grinning. Intellectual he was not, but the lieutenant pulled his great weight in other areas; battle, for instance.

The giant mace upon his chain swung around and caved in the skull of the first swordsman. Dozens of other corpses charged at the Kenshurians, transforming into trolls as they went. Zoreg twisted and pulled his chain and caused the mace to rebound. The giant metal ball hit the second swordsman in the torso with a sickening crunch. "Maul dem!" The trolls continued their charge.

-------------------

OOC: Blood! War! Battle! Perfect Opportunity For Good Roleplaying! Remember, the good PC kills his enemies, the great PC kills his enemies descriptively!

Combat Statistics

Kenshurians

Militiamen: Melee I or Ranged I depending on their weapon of choice.
Border Rangers: Melee II/Ranged II (aside from Penn, all of the rangers are either dead or with Nord in the center of the Venurian company, there are perhaps 10 of them)
Knights of the Long Patrol: Melee III (again, aside from Graeme, they're all with Nord)
"Captain" Nord: Melee V
Sergeant Ereagus: Melee IV

Venurians

Trolls: Melee I
Gargoyles: Melee II (Ranged II in the case of Oyo's archers)
Zoreg: Melee VI
Troll Elites: Melee III (two follow Zoreg at all times)
Gargoyle Elites: Melee IV (four follow Mithik and Oyo at all times)
Oyo: Melee III/Ranged III
Mithik: Elementalism VII/Conjuration I

Good luck, don't think I missed anyone.

[Mintaro]

Penn was as surprised as anyone else when the corpses stood up and changed to monsters. The illusion had been convincing enough to fool him. He didn't have time to take good stock of his surroundings. Penn drew out his sword and struck downwardly at an advancing troll. The troll parried the attack with some difficulty. The upward angle adding creating difficulty in striking his target. The troll made a rough jab, only to have his sword parried expertly and snapped out to the side. A quick thrust into the Trolls throat dropped him. He lashed around on the ground but Penn was already moving. Controlling his mount with his knees he backed him up, creating a very slow retreat from the advancing forces

Penn parried the attacks that came at him. Making sure to keep moving. Behind him he could hear his companion blocking attacks, taunting the enemy and feel the saddle shift as he launched attacks of his own.

After a quick count Penn realized they were hopelessly out numbered. "Stay together! Don't let them separate you. Keep the healer in the middle! Archers take down those Gargoyles!" While the remaining sword and pike men did there best to hold a line. The archers took their shots. Once the enemy archers were dead he would sound a retreat. Until then he fought on.

[Lumenskir]

From the shimmer came confusion, and confusion was a great entrance for any Enchanter. As the armored and bedecked trolls poured and roared from their lying spots, the vested human strolled leisurely towards the enemy, slipping on his glasses with a smirk.

"Such clever little soldiers, seeing through my ruse...for a given measure of see. Of course, I can't fathom why you'd come after little old me with such heavy armaments." Ariosto flicked his wrist, sigils springing up across his enemy's armor and weapons. Ari had never been much of a true brawler, but any deck could be easily stacked when the opponent was playing with unplanned weights on everything he held or wore.

"And since I still appear to be outnumbered." A few more motions and a wooden block vaguely resembling a humanoid whumped into the space in front of him, mouth agape and eyes gleaming with the enchantments running through it. A sword and shield popped into the mage's hand, and were then transferred to his wooden assistant. "Dumb as the stuff he's made of, but I've never seen much scholarly work in steel."

[Loki, The Fallen]

When they had arrived at the scene, Vincent was taken aback. Tears entered his eyes, but he held them back with all that was within him. I am too late. This amount of blood and destruction he had not seen previously, the violence of it all was beyond him. These men are dead, Avelia had taken them home long ago. May they feel pain no more. He looked at his friends. I am sorry, there is nothing I can do for them. May The Light guide them to eternal peace.

"They're all dead, this was a waste of time."

"Weez ain't all dead!" A corpse screamed.

Vincent nearly fell off his horse as the Trolls appeared, eyes full of malice and weapons stained with the blood of the fallen. Vincent forced his fear away, praying for Avelia to help him keep hold of himself. It was a trap, a well crafted trap. And now, Vincent and his friends were outnumbered and surprised.

His allies sprang into action, fending off the creatures as best they could, felling some, injuring others, but also taking significant wounds.

"Stay together! Don't let them separate you. Keep the healer in the middle! Archers take down those Gargoyles!"

Vincent looked around at them. They were all fighting, beating back the onslaught. He knew he was no match for their swordplay. He felt powerless…

***

10 Years ago.

Vincent and The Priest had been traveling for a few days in the wilderness, on their way to a small farming community which had been struck with a mysterious illness. It had been an uneventful trip, with The Priest lecturing Vince on simple medicinal practices and the like. But then the wolves came and they surrounded them.

Father, these wolves…

We may be trespassing on their land. They appear quite territorial.

Vince picked up his walking stick and brandished it menacingly. Perhaps we can push them back? They can tell we are bigger and stronger…

Yes Vince. We can do that. But would that not provoke the others? Would they not seek vengeance, perhaps extract that upon others later? And you do see there are many more of them then there are of us.

Vince was puzzled. What do you suggest Father? I would prefer not to become their meal, I can do little good dead.

The Priest knelt to the ground and clasped his hands. Avelia, I beg you to guard us, your humble servants! Avelia, grant us protection! May your light keep the shadows of death at bay!

As He prayed loudly, light fell from the sky onto The Priest. It became stronger, and soon both Vince and The Priest had a shimmering aura. The wolves seemed startled at first, but one especially brave one lunged at The Priest. Vince was too late to intercept it. Father!

The wolves claws appeared to strike, its jaws clamping around his neck. But The Priest was unharmed. The wolf jumped back moving his jaws, and The Priest stood and brushed himself off.

Let us walk, Vince. We have nothing to fear. They will tire eventually.

Vincent was astonished. The old man appeared was not frightened, in fact, acted as if he were completely safe, as if there were no threat. Father, you must teach me this! The pain that could be prevented, the lives that could be saved…!

The Priest looked amused at Vincent. He thought for a moment, looking to the sun, then turned back to his young friend. All things are possible through the light, one has but to ask.

***
Vincent came back to the battle, his mind had wandered for a fraction of a second. He recalled his last experience against great odds. It had been so long since he had needed to protect anyone. But perhaps this can help us! Vincent clasped his hands together and beseeched the heavens.

Avelia, I beg you, defend us! Send us your protecting light, to keep the shadows of death at bay!

It was not the same prayer his Mentor had said, but the outcome was similar. Light fell on him, and he flet it's warmth upon his very soul. All of his nearby allies had a shimmering aura appear to cover them. I may not be as knowledgeable as he, but perhaps this will at least dull the injuries, weaken the blows we receive.

Vincent then returned to the task at hand. He looked around, slightly more reassured. But he remembered that they were outnumbered, that it was but a matter of time. May The Light Protect us! Who needs my assistance?

[Akamaz]

As the trolls roared up from their concealment, Ishva took a quick stock of their situation. Luckily it didn't appear that any of the Trolls had thought to bring any bows or other ranged weapons with them, so Father Vincent should be all right staying on his horse.

She mentally drew a circle with a 10 foot radius, just like on the training grounds, that was centered on Vincent. Her job was simple, keep everything else out of the circle.

Taking a moment to Summon the talons of the Earth Dragon (shapeshifting 1/elemental 1) was all the time that was allowed her as the first troll entered the "circle".

With a spinnin leap, Ishva executed "Breaching Dragon" in imitation the movements of the great sea dragons at play, she brought her hand down, talons outspread and was rewarded with four jagged slashes across the trolls face. As it was distracted, one of the warriors near her speared it neatly through the ribs.

She moved to the next troll and dodged an axe swing by the simple expediant of ducking, her arm swung upwards between the trolls legs in "Dragon Picking Plums" causing the troll to rise up on it's toes and fall backwards.

"Father Vincent!" she shouted as she slipped her arms under a fallen soldier "I need you!"

[Lumenskir]

As the blessed light of Avelia cascaded down upon the battlefield, Ariosto looked up, a slight frown spreading across his visage. Tapping his glasses to opaque the nothingness between the frames in order to shade his eyes, he surveyed the scuffle and spotted the source of the new fill source, a horse drawn priest. “Oh, as if this wasn’t going to be irritating enough…”

While he mulled over what to do with the priest, Ari became dimly aware that his golem was in some trouble when it stumbled backwards, arrows dotting its face. The mage looked up at the assailant, a Kenshuran archer. Already the archer, a farmer or some other sort of handsworker in his non-militia life Ariosto supposed, had another arrow notched and aimed at the Venurian. As the lieutenant stared down the arrow, the Kenshuran let fly, his shot true and flying straight into Ariosto’s chest…doing nothing.

“Wow, that was a good shot, really.” A voice whispered right in the Kenshuran’s ear. Wheeling around, the archer came to face nothing but air. “How about I try and beat your employer’s offer.” The emptiness said before grabbing him, forcing his eyes shut. When he finally forced his lids open he was…

He was in his house. There was his hearth, and his daughter’s dolls lying haphazardly next to his son’s wooden weapons… For a second he thought it had all been a dream. Then the accursed Venurian strolled in.

“I must hand it to you, this is one of the simplest mindscapes I’ve ever been in. You’re barely beating a troll’s mind in terms of thought space, although it is cozier in a bumpkin sort of way.” The mage said, meandering through the soldier’s mind. Slowly, recent events began to organize themselves.

“We’re in my mind…” Ari nodded in agreement, a look of encouragement similar to one given to a stuttering child on his face. The soldier carried this realization forward. “So…so you’ve made a mistake!” A gleaming golden bow appeared in the archer’s hand, followed by a quiver of pure light. Quickly notching his bow, the archer took aim. “May Avelia strike down where you stand!” He roared, releasing the arrow. Ariosto merely yawned as he deftly snatched the arrow out of the air, snapping it between his fingers as if it were little more than a dry twig.

“I don’t have the patience right now to make you think you have a chance, especially with all of this Avelia nonsense going on at once.” Before the archer could begin notching another arrow, dark tendrils snaked out of the walls, entangling him and pinning him against the wall. Ariosto walked over, looking his prey over.

“Well, Simon son of Altair, what can I offer you as an employer?” The archer was stunned at this mention of not only his name, but his father’s. “Well, I notice that you have quite the dependent family. A son, Althaine as an homage to your father I assume, Morgan a precocious little daughter, a wife in Lorelai, and you’ve even been so kind to provide your widowed mother a home late in her life, how nice.” As Ariosto listed off his family, they materialized in the main room, standing in line. No amount of struggle could free Simon, a deep fear lining his gut at the mage’s intentions.

“Now, I assume the leaders of Kenshura have promised safety for your people, including your family. I am going to make a similar offer: Follow my orders and I won’t harm your family.” Simon looked confused at these differences. “I see you’re confused, please allow me to elaborate. You see, if you fail Kenshura, they will still protect your family; they still remain part of the kingdom of course. Choose to reject my offer, however, and I will reneg my offer and make it my sole mission to make your family suffer.” Behind Ariosto, the family members began to slowly change, adopting horrifying visages and marks. “I will start by torturing your mother, until her cries for Altair cannot escape the screams. That will be easy; I am very good at what I do. After her old bones have faded, I will move on to your son. Child soldiers are in high demand in Venuria, but he would be a good template for whatever magical aberrations I or my fellow mages could think of before he is fully drafted into service. Your wife I will take as my own; If she doesn’t realize what a catch I am (and think, objecting to the chance to be with me!) I will simply make her submit, but since you rejected me I will make sure she feels everything she is forced to do, in punishment for your sins. Little Morgan is a mite too young for my tastes, but our prisons are stocked with…delinquents, if you will, that have no such scruples. All in all, saying no to me right now means denying your entire family a future.” As Ariosto outlined these plans, the figures shifted accordingly.

The magic keeping Simon in bondage relented, dropping the Kenshuran to the ground, the visions of his nightmare family all around him. ”Fine…”

“I’m sorry, Simon?”

“I…I will help you.”

“No Simon, you will serve me, to my every whim.” Ariosto corrected. “Understood?”

“…Yes. I shall…I shall pledge myself to you.” And with these words Simon’s mindscape was stripped away, becoming lit by a bizarre purple sun, another claimed territory under Ariosto’s flag.

Outside of Simon’s mind the entire ordeal seemed to be over in less than a second, and to the outside observer never seemed to happen at all; Simon had merely wheeled around and come face to face with nothing.

“You are going to help me kill the priest.” The nothingness said. The illusion of Ariosto had acquired an arrow wound and was now among the dead. Two wooden golems sprung from the aether beside it, armed with swords, shields, and a mission, striding towards the priest and his guardian. “While the warrior is preoccupied, you take the shot. Kill the priest.”

The cloaked Ariosto departed, while Simon’s enchanted body took lengths to look authentic as it prepared for its shot. The golems set themselves upon Ishva.

[Aieris]

As the men around her began to fall to the ground in droves under the hail of arrows from Venurian forces, Aieris wasted no time in beginning an action she hoped would keep her alive throughout the coming clash. The two volleys of arrows had come from the east, and it was in that direction that her body was twisting as she drew a black-fletched arrow from the quiver at her waist. Between her dress, which had been hiked up to mid-thigh to accommodate her travel on this damned beast of burden, and the ungainly gait at which the four-legged death trap beneath her charged the enemy lines, so intent on skewering her on some nameless, ugly, putrid-breathed troll, she knew her shot would not be accurate. Not that accuracy would matter for what she hoped to achieve.

In mere seconds after the second volley had hit the charging group of Kenshurians, with the dead not yet realizing their plight, and the wounded still in the midst of their screams of realization at the pain they so suddenly found themselves in, Aieris raised her bow to the east, closed her eyes, knocked and drew in one smooth motion, felt the brief wave of fatigue as power transferred from her to the arrow she had drawn, and released. Then she turned, opened her eyes, and braced herself for the coming crash into the Venurians ahead.

The arrow flew up in the air, mindless of the conflict below, and at the apex of its flight miles of terrain were visible below it. It saw a priest nearly tumble off his horse, a monk begin its whirlwind of death, a Kenshurian farmer loose an arrow at a Venurian lieutenant, and more. It saw the thousands of little details that would mean defeat or victory in the coming minutes. But it paid no attention to any of this. It was, after all, nothing but an arrow.

Nothing but an arrow that, at the apex of its flight, burst silently above the battlefield, suddenly shining with the light of the sun, only a sun whose distance could be measured in mere meters, instead of hundreds of thousands of kilometers away.


OOC: Due to possible confusion, here's an brief explanation for what this is supposed to do. The arrow is supposed to act like a large flashbang-ish thing hoping to catch the Venurian archers to the east in the act of drawing fletchings to their ears in preparation for another volley. They would be looking into the air for this, and would hopefully be temporarily blinded or at least startled, by the explosion of light above them. Whether or not this works, we shall see.

I hope this all makes sense. And if it doesn't, I apologize in advance. Though this is after, so it's not really in advance is it.