A new encounter

[Anvil]

As Jovian arrows pierce the flesh of the wounded retreating to the mountains a feral snarl rises from every throat of the Dunlanders. These are a hard folk who choose to live in the mountains elbow to elbow with the monsters who also call the area home. The sight of humans committing atrocities on par with orcs and trolls so infuriated them to a man that as one creature the Dunlanders broke into a charge towards the Jovian archers.

"Blow the horns of war men, let the gods witness our glory this day and send many a shield maiden to gather our fallen!" cries Anvil

The men of Dunland were on patrol looking to root out a band of orcs raiding the area and were prepared for combat. Many a man has charged down into the ranks of orcs, trolls, and giants before. The ponies they ride are used to the fetid breath of foul beast on their faces and swords and claw raking the hardened leather barding they wear. These are hard men, looking for a fight and fresh.

"Drive them to the ground men and clear the path for our friends to retreat." Anvil Bellows before loosing the javelin in his hand at the Jovians.

[shatar]

The blood exploded out of the Lieutenants neck and Shatar smirked as if he was hoping he would fall. His sword rang as he ripped it out of its sheath. He kicked the sides of his horse and let out a roar as he charged Greybeard. The two were giants amongst the battle. They drove towards each other with no fear. When they got close Shatar raised his blade, ready to smite the Abbot. Greybeard had other plans he set his foot at the back of his saddle and launched himself off his horse and drove his shoulder into Shatar. In a mess of chainmail and plate they crashed to the ground and rolled apart. Shatar young and nimble was to his feet first. A Jovian soldier was about to backstab Greybeard before he could get to his feet. Like lighting Shatar hurled his sword into the chest of his own soldier. He walks over puts a foot on the dead soldier and rips out the sword.

“I will not have my victory stolen by a coward.”

Shatar readies his blade, and gestures Greybeard to come fight.

“Come Abbot, let us continue.”

[Tatsumura Masamune]

Masamune orders his samurai to attack as Greybeard charges at the general. Though he may go to his death, he would not fight alone.

Masamune, still favoring the deep wound he had, extended his hand, the no-dachi Murasame appearing once again. As his samurai charged the line, the jovians braced for the impact, only to have several drop dead for no reason in the front row, as the white haired Shugenja merely waved his hand at them. The samurai broke through the opening, and began to do what they could against the heavily armored warriors. The katanas were not able to tear through the plate armor of the jovians as it had the chain and leather armor of the vikings, but that same plate seemed to slow them down enough for the samurai to take every advantage that they could. Masamune burst through the line of the samurai, almost with renewed vigor. Where the katanas failed to cause the needed damage in one stroke, the weight and power of Murasame proved otherwise, as he cleaved two jovians in half with one swing.

The Shugenja remained back, supporting those engaged in the melee. As the white haired Shugenja moved to snatch the life from more jovians, he suddenly dropped to his knees, three arrows in his chest. The remaining four shugenja seemed to explode in a rage at the sight of this. The one in deep blue robes, formed a wave of water around them remaining shugenja, to prevent the jovians from reaching them on foot. The one in light blue robes, said a prayer, and the winds picked up around the area of the battle of the shugenja and samurai. As arrows made their way in for killing strikes, they were snapped into pieces by the strong winds.

The remaining two, one in red robes the other in brown, began saying chants of their own. Suddenly, the heavens opened and fire rained down for the skys, cutting a path in the jovian lines. Only the other side of the "fire line," the earth rumbled as a mass of earth and stone formed to stand in a vaguely humanoid shape. The creature began to lay into the jovians, his stone hide proving to be almost immune to the attacks of the jovians, who did not flee in terror at the sight, but the fear etched across their faces clearly.

Masamune and his samurai faired fairly well against the jovians trapped in their area. Two samurai were cut down by jovian blades, only to be quickly avenged by the others. Masamune cut down warrior after warrior, paying no heed to the pain that he felt, nor the fact that he had begun to bleed again.

In the distance, he hears and feels the sound of a calvary charge. He looks up to notice it is the Dunlanders, with Anvil at the helm of them. A small smile crosses his face.

[greybeardabbot]

"Ahh... Merde!"
This simple ephetete, were Greybeards most frequent "dying words".
The effort it took him to raise himself was jovian, and the irony of this did not escape him. While still down on his right knee, he looked upon his enemy. He would wait, contented to let the old man rise to his feet be fore launching his attack... of that Greybeard had no doubt.

It crossed his mind that there was still another dagger "up his sleeve' but Greybeard was disinclined to use it. It would be a left-handed throw... and while Greybeard was confident he could make it easily... He was equally confident that this general would simply and effortlessly deflect the weapon. Such a misguided attempt to slay his opponent would only spark his distain and diminish him in the eyes of this grim comidant.

Greybeard knew this type. The legitimately arrogant commander. Legitimate because his skills were indeed formidable. He was a goliath to his David... with the exception that David never doubted he could defeat the giant... Greybeard was rather certain his fortunes would not be so bright. As a fighter, Greybeard was not the best. Not because he did not know what he was doing... no... Rather he knew from experience how to fight quite well. He was trained and experienced... but he was not fast. His eyes often watched the openings to attack come and go, because he could not bring his arms to bear with the same speed. His main advantage was fearless courage and unusual luck. He had a knack for sizing opponents ascertaining their skill. There were many who the abbot faced off against over the years of greater skill that his own... but for whatever reason, they did not intimidate him. The man who stood before him now, appeared to him to be invincible.

It was the abbot’s habit in such cases not to try and kill the man... but rather to make him pay dearly for the life he was about to take. The knee was his favorite bill of fare. But this man was well clad in iron. It would be his usual mistake to settle for a wounding rather than try and KILL his man...

There was a round shield close by his feet... He hated the round shield but he also hated to fight without a shield, except when using the claymore against another. In this world there were few he would fear to face off against in single combat with claymores in hand. Slow as he was it was the great equalizer. His weapon of choice mono-et-mono. Reluctantly Greybeard reached for the shield. His opponent would let him he knew. And so he did. When suddenly his eye took hold of the long blade in the body of a nearby Norseman.

"May I have that?" Greybeard inquired of Shatar... pointing to the man just behind him with the point of his sword. And he tossed down the shield with casual ease. The gesture made the request into a presupposition. The arrogance of the request amused Shatar and with one quick motion, he reached back with his own sword, and catching the claymore under the hilt, launched the long blade into the air, in an easy arc toward the man in black. It annoyed Greybeard that the gesture was so apparently effortless. Never the less He caught the blade in the air, and awkwardly brought it down.

Shatar: "When you are ready."

Greybeard raised the blade in the right hanging guard that was signature post. Oron would mock him for his reliance on such a "weak" guard and typical of a sissy can-ig-gate (knight). It’s unpopularity however, was also its strength... not everyone knew how to defend this guard, and it had the advantage of surprise.

Quite unaware to Greybeard his fatigue was fading in the excitement. This new weapon had woken the one remaining resource of his will to fight. The well was limited, but it was not yet dry.

It was with grim joy that Greybeard set his face to grimace... "Have at me."

[Suihaden]

For a split second after the arrows were released shock registered on young novitiate's face. Then, with a shriek of inhuman rage he hurled himself bodily on the Jovian captain, sending them smashing to the ground. Sui's scramasax dagger slashed and stabbed wildly at the officer's neck sending a spray of blood over the struggling combatants.

As the Jovian gave his death gurgle, sudden pain registered in Sui's back. Looking, he saw an arrow protruding from it. He felt tired.....so sleepy......funny he didn't feel much......

[Anvil]

As Anvil and his men closed upon the Jovians Anvil had to admire the speed and precision that they reacted to the new threat. Many of the archers had already reloaded and none of the men had broke from their position. About a dozen arrows were released as the two groups closed and Anvil allowed a moment of sorrow to pass as the war horn was cut short. The young Dane who was blowing the war charge wouldn't of stopped the blowing unless an arrow had found it's mark.

Anvil guided his pony to bowl over the fist Jovian he came to knowing full well the men behind him wouldn't give the soldier the chance to regain his balance, the next Jovian Anvil was nearest to was run through by the Dunland standard, apparently the standard bearer had lowered it like a lance to dispatch the first man he came to. Anvil had his sights on the man in front of him though, Anvil drew out his dagger and slid off his pony at a full gallop on top of the soldier as he tried to release his sword from it's scabbard. He never got the chance to fully draw his weapon, between the crushing weight of a man in armor falling off a horse on to him and the dagger embedded in his neck from Anvil's hand never gave him a chance.

[shatar]

Shatar is a master cavalryman and the long sword is his tool. He cares not for shields, they slow him down. The armor will do its job. He was impressed with the bold tackle of the Abbot. It’s not often he is de-horsed in battle. To have it done here in this little skirmish, it doesn’t anger him, he loves it. To meet a worthy opponent is a gift from Jupiter and to die here would be worth of immortality. But as bold as this old man is, Shatar was not worried about dying here, not yet. He knew he would not die until he was Emperor.

A few years ago in the hilltop town Aquilo, a land in the world the Jovians are from, Shatar visits an oracle.

Shatar and two flanking soldiers gallop up to a gaudy looking shack.

“Wait here.”

Shatar dismounts and ducks into the shack, pushing through the beads and strands in the doorway. A dainty old woman is cooking something.

“Oh there you are!” laughs the old woman.

“I suppose you expected me?” doubtfully asked Shatar.

“Sit Sit, boy. Let me see you.”

They sit and she takes his hand, taking off his glove.

“Oh yes, Oh yes, I knew it. Ah you will lead many, too far lands, you will conquer, wait Oh my…”

“What! What is it?”

“You will kill the Emperor.”

“I will be Emperor,” he thinks to himself.

His guard low, he feints up with the sword and then swings low. Greybeard barely parries it away from taking his leg. Shatar follows through the parry and spins into a side kick into the Abbot’s ribs. Greybeard stutters but doesn’t hesitate. Shatar swings high, Greybeard steps in with a firm block and pommels him in the jaw. Shatar backs up and and licks the blood from his lip. He smiles and circles Greybeard for a moment. Then he explodes on Greybeard, Shatar blocks out his sword and puts a shoulder into him, Greybeard loses balance, Shatar swings low and takes out the leg of Greybeard. His grieve saved his leg from being cleaved, but the blow tripped him on his back. Shatar slams his sword towards the neck of Greybeard. The Abbot with a two handed block, slides the blow to the dirt. Greybeard thrusts the sharp guard of his sword into the thigh of Shatar. Causing Shatar to step back and Greybeard to get to his feet.

[greybeardabbot]

Once again the Abbot takes the hanging guard, but this time the left guard in order to take the weight from his injured leg. There are only two moves he can make and Shatar is not foolish. Greybeard steps backward and assumes Il poste di Falcone. High high guard, the guard of wrath. The sword dance... Greybeard looked at the hole, mid thigh. Shatar did not seem to pay it any mind... but the old man knew it would stiffen if given time and a bit of rest.
The abbot stepped back again, slowing lowering his sword to the midguard... the steping forward and taking the rightside guard. Then the low guard, then the tail guard. The dance was simlar to the oriental forms of T'ai Chi. Like practicing the scales... this was a practice of footwork and guards. It made Shartar smile at first... but the "Delay of Game" quickly passed into irritation. He was aware on some level that continued action was his friend. Thadance took greybeard to Shatars' "weakend" left side... With two motions greybeard swung in and arc... to was intentionaly short of the target... but highly threatening... the momentum was added to the second swing and gryebeard stepped in to close the gap. Shatar was too expereinced to be intimadated by a blow on his left side. His block was unique, but low on the scale of defence... it was a simple "dead block" on the flat of the blade... Reversing his grip on the hilt Shatar let go with his right hand and bringing the point of the blade upward he lays his sword point up and laying the flat blade against the outside of his left arm like a sheild. Early in the day He might have broken the blade or the arm behind it... But at this point all he managed was to shock his own hands. Shatar reversed his swing in to the abbot's crotch. The chainmail did little more than keep the skin from breaking. Dropping the monk to his knees... although he kept his grip on the claymore. Greybeard's head was a easy target... if only he could jam the point of his blade into the crease of Shatar's curase before the cou'de gras.

[Suihaden]

(OOC) I'n this setting I do not think this is scriptural, or theologicily correct. But, for the sake of the story, I'm gonna do it. You can reference the book of Revalation for this description.

As his sight and senses faded Sui felt felt another sense growing, a feeling of wonder and unspeakable joy. Suddenly, before him appeared a city, shining like the sun. It's walls were massive, extending up as as far as the eye could see and made of shinning diamonds. In front of him was a gate, made all of pearl and gold and around were a small crowd of people, people he knew. Maynard, Millard, the old priest from the Monastary of Torquilstone and several tall, shining men. Sui advanced up to the gate, inside he saw a city, with houses of unimaginable beauty, streets of the purest gold and filled with brilliant light. But the feeling freedom, of peace of joy he felt was best of all. As he reached the gate those assembled smiled at him, but when he tried to enter, they stopped him gently.

"Tis not your time, The LORD has ordained you another season on earth, there is work yet to be done."

Sui bowed his head in assent, then slowly everything faded...faded.....faded

[Sir Nichtmar]

Nichtmar and some of the soldiers take off toward the sound of death. His breath was taken by the site of the needless murder of the injured. The men engage the Jovian and Nichtmar targets the lieutenant and slams his shield into him, knocking him to the ground. He turns and puts a hand on the slumped over Suihaden.

“Sui…Sui…get up…it’s not over!”

Nichtmar turns and takes a flail head across the temple, the bloods sprays in the air and his body goes limp and falls.

[Anvil]

Anvil gets to his feet and looks around to access the situation. The fighting at the wood line is nearly over with most of the Jovians already dead or being dispatched by the combined forces that have arrived.

But the main force is still coming on and despite some fierce fighting by Dunland's friends the sheer number of their force and the fact that they are fresh compared to the combined forces who defeated the vikings, Anvil comes to the sad conclusion that the battle is lost. The best he can hope for is a fighting withdraw into the safety of the forest and mountains.

Anvil runs over to the lifeless body of the Dane and picks up the horn from the ground. He blows three long blast, both to rally as many as he can to the woods and to alert the other Dunlanders nearby to the situation. If the other two patrols and the group of rangers are close enough they can help cover the withdraw.

[shatar]

Shatar quickly put his blade to the neck of Greybeard, holding it there.

“I’m sure in your youth you could have possibly bested me, but your body has grown weak. Such is life, my friend. May your heaven be bright...”

Suddenly Greybeard grabs the blade with both hands, rips it out of Shatar’s hands.

Greybeard, “Here’s a free lesson from an old man!”

He smacks him across the face with the hilt.

“Don’t talk so much!”

Shatar steps back from the blow and Greybeard gets to his feet and flips the sword around and grips the hilt. Blood trickles through his fingers, as he swings for the head of Shatar. Shatar spins in close, his back to his front and snaps the right arm of Greybeard over his shoulder. Then elbows him in the teeth, he grabs the main gauge from the Abbot’s belt and shoves it in his throat. In a bloody gurgle Greybeard says, “Good shot.”

The comment seemed so out of place to Shatar. The old man was dying, like it was no big deal. Shatar shrugged it off and picked up his sword and walked through the battle without fear. He orders one of his men.

“Soldier! You’re the new Lieutenant! I’m going to my tent, bring me captives!”

He fades into the crimson army.

"I appreciate the lesson, old man."

[Taos]

Up...down...up...down.

Taos' sword arm rises and falls like a metronome, runic magic powering his blade through soldier after soldier. His steed is behind him, alive, but too wounded to continue fighting. Taos himself bleeds from a dozen wounds, and even his Elven physique aches from fatigue. As his legs and feet grow to tired to continue his whirlwind dance of death, Jovian soldiers converge on him, scenting a chance for glory.

The first one comes at him, and stops short, with the point of Taos' sword thrust through the man's helm. Too tired to yank the sword free, Taos spins around the man's falling body and tears the mace from his dying hands, swinging it up into the knee of the next soldier.

Rotating to strike at the third man, though, Taos, gasping for breath to fuel his tired lungs, and disoriented by the sheer number of foes, steps right into the man's plated fist. Hammered to the ground by the man's shatteringly powerful strike, the last words Taos hears before unconsciousness are, "Bring me captives!"

[Suihaden]

Foggily noise flooded into Suihaden's mind, disjointed sounds and a rough shaking. With a snap, his blue-grey eyes flew open and life flowed in the young hospitaller's veins. Sui felt dissapointed, "I was so close, I could've been with Jesus!" instead, he was back to a life of chaos and agony.

Shaking with pain he stood up and looked. Around him a brutal combat raged, the Jovians clearly with the upper hand. A few survivors were being dragged away by the crimson clad soldiers. Nichtmar lay crumpled nearby, bleeding from a ugly wound.

Pale as death from blood loss, Sui drew his sword. The two edged Toledo steel blade felt heavy in his grasp as he stood over the ogre. Maybe he could still reach Heaven today. But God had willed it otherwise.

A Jovian sensing an easy victory charged him and swung. Sui blocked the blow and lunged, but his sword glanced off the armor. The soldier rained blow after blow, each unflinchingly blocked. Sui struck low and had to leap back to avoid being halved by his opponents blade. As the sword descended he swung, in a perfect shot his sword clove the Jovian’s sword-hand from his body. Following up Suihaden hit right over the gorget and severed his opponents head. A few more soldiers advanced to fight, but another, pompous with new authority shouted, “Seize him, the commander wants them alive.” “You’ll never take me alive!” Sui shouted hoarsely back. Six men surrounded him, each hesitating to be the first. “GO FOOLS!” the new lieutenant yelled. Simultaneously, they dogpiled the hospitaller, wrenched his sword from his grasp and dragged him away.

[greybeardabbot]

The odd thing is... that very few deaths are as painful as one fears.
Some are of course. Burning, for one... and dissemboweling... for another, is surprisingly plainful. Of the two, I would almost prefer the former to the latter. Drowning is merely unpleasant at first, quickly it passes, especailly if one chooses to relax and welcome it. Shock can be a friend as such times, and overide the pain responce.

Here comes the usual... the white light... the beginings music... and then the static and the blackness... the light fades.... to a dot... a point... and remains... there is not sensation of time. It is by now very familiar... soon the light will brighten and expand, Untill then I am content in the twilight of painless slumbering. Awake... and yet ... not awake... Dreaming, but not aware of any ration thought... this will change... I expect... whenever... I suppose.

[Anvil]

The men of Dunland packed wounded quickly onto horses and started melting into the wood line and mountain. After grabbing his mount Anvil took one last look at the carnage on the field in front of him and gritted his teeth. To many of his friends were being swallowed up by these Jovians. To few of the troops made it to the woods and Anvil had his own people to save. With a last look he wheels his horse and plunges into the woods, he and his men will come back later and see to the bodies of their friends if they are not piled and burned by the enemy.

[Tatsumura Masamune]

Masamune watched as the old abbot fell to the general in the distance. Then to the other side, he noticed that Nichtmar was down, and that Sui had been overtaken. The Dunlanders made their retreat, it became clear, the samurai were all that was left.

Masamune's rage boiled over, he saw the general walking away in the distance, and in his fury raised Murasame. The blade began to glow with a bluish light. With a powerful downward swing, a wave of ice rode the ground towards the general. The earth elemental that had been holding back the jovians was shattered by as it stepped in the way of the attack, as was the wall of water and the rain of fire. Jovians in the path of the attack were thrown or outright slain by the attack as it moved towards the general.

The general had enough time to turn around to see the attack, before being pushed out of the way by another soldier. A giant shard of ice rose from the ground, impaling the soldier hovering now where the general had been standing.

Masamune collapsed to a knee, his wound bleeding heavily again. The samurai gathered around him, and the shugenja in light blue robes began to say a prayer, and with that, the group of Samurai were swallowed in a burst of winds and disappeared before the jovians could close on them.

[Sir Nichtmar]

sometime later in a Jovian camp


I don’t know how long it’s been. I try to open my eyes again. It’s less blurry then the last time I tried. The ground I feel is dirt, the walls are wooden, I can see pieces of day light leaking through the walls. Can’t tell but there’s some kind of roof. Must be some camp. My head is pounding. I feel the wrapping the Jovians must have put on my head, shoulder too. I try to focus on the figure next to me. It’s a pointy ear. I look around to his face.

[Suihaden]

(OOC) Thought I'd try a little character development

As Sui lay on the dirt floor his thoughts drifted back many years to a time faintly etched in his memory. He had only been seven years old at the time, but now he remembered it like yesterday.

Dawn's light shone across the Western marches of England ten years ago revealing a battle that had raged for many a night hour.
Smoke billowed from the beleaguered castle. Closer observation revealed a small group of maill clad men fighting desperately to hold the tall, proud keep against masses of Welsh hillmen. The bodies scattered thickly attested to the fierceness of the assault and to the desperation of the defenders. Inside a small boy listened to the strife as the defenders were driven back. Suddenly the door burst open and his father stepped in smeared with blood. Giving his son a farewell smile he held the door against the foe for a while, then fell, a javelin through his body. The vision ended. He knew the ending.

Sui was carried off, and raised as a shepherd among the Welsh hillmen, until his discovery by a patrolling knight. Now he was in a strange world, his life hanging by a slender thread. What new twist of fate would come now?

[Anvil]

After the retreat into the woods the riders of Dunland started regrouping after a while and the threat of pursuit was over. They had saved only a couple couple of dozen of their allies and hoped they could find more wandering around the area. Anvil and his people had only lost 2 and had several wounded, but they had hooked up with their rangers out mapping and scouting the area.

After a quick council they decided to send the most severly wounded with an escort of 12 fighters and rangers back to Dunland, for it was imperative to send word of the threat to their people. They also sent a swift rider to Aethenu and Mittelmarch to warn them and let them know the outcome of the battle.

Most of the rangers were sent out to scout the battlefield and area around it to ensure the safety of the men before they returned to claim the dead and learn of what happened to their friends.

On the ride back to the battlefield Anvil slipped into a reverie of past battles. These Jovians made him think of the Romans who had invaded his homeland in a different place and time. His people had learned some hard lessons while fighting them and had finally forced the Romans to give up the idea of taking control of their lands. They had become such a thorn to the invaders that they had actually taken the effort to build a wall across the land to keep back Anvil's people.

Anvil slowly a grim smile appeared. He knew how to fight these people for they also favored that tight formation and heavy armor approach the Romans had used. It called for quick attacks and retreats, no open field battles, ambushes, drawing the enemy into the woods and mountains were their formations and armor would be nullified, and generally become that small thorn in their hand that eventually festers and renders them to sick in the heart to continue their aggressions.

When they arrived at the sight of the slaughter the carrion birds were there already. Anvil had already told the troops to quickly gather the bodies and strip away the armor and weapons and stack them to the side for they would be needed in the next few months by the living. The Jovians had been very efficient in making sure any wounded were dispatched before leaving and only a few pieces of their shiny red armor was found much to Anvils dismay, for he had hoped to use it for future ambushes and desceptions.

As wood was being readied for the funeral pyres the task of identifying the dead for notification to their family was taking place. Vikings were being piled to one side for they would be getting their own send off and Anvil was more worried about his friends. Unfortuntely he knew this would not be the only time he would be doing this in this war and he would be lucky if he didn't find himself in a pyre before this was over.

[Brogas]

The sounds of clanking armor and heavy horses filled the air. The men were starting to look nervous with the thought of battle laying on their minds. Anvil’s rider had made it to them mid trip, as Sir Nichtmar had warned them prior to the rendezvous. Brogas sat upon the chestnut horse looking down upon his people and then over to Plebian, who sat upright and seemed very ready for action. News had traveled to them of the Jovians and now the meager amount of men, 25 rangers and 100+ soldiers, seemed well below the numbers that were going to be needed, but word had been sent to Dunland to secure the towns and brace for any action that the Jovians might try. One battle at a time though, first they would assist their brethren then his attention would go back to the men, women and children that were left behind.
As they made their way through the woods, suddenly a face appeared to the left of Brogas. The leaves had been intentionally parted no doubt about it and Brogas pulled hard on the reins and his horse came to a stop.
“Keep moving men, our friends and brothers are in need,” shouted Brogas, looking toward Plebian then to the tree. Plebian stopped and steered his horse toward Brogas.
“My King, why do you stop for something when it would be best for all to stop,” asked Plebian, curious as to what Brogas had in mind.
“If they were looking for casualties the beast would have struck already. Apparently something is amiss with them too, as they have never been encountered this far west. Stay close and if there is trouble sound for the men to return,” Brogas said as he moved toward the tree, stopping just a few feet from its overhanging leaves.
“Ahhh Sir Brogas, King of Dunland upon his horse and ready for a battle, brings a tear to my eyes,” came a growling voice from the tree.
“What do you want beast? And make it good or I will set these woods ablaze to ensure your demise!” demanded Brogas.
“Fair enough King of the mountain folk, but know this we could have cut you down on your saddle. I made a pact with your guard there because he was brave enough to face me,” came the voice with authority. “So don’t be so hasty to assume you have the upper hand at all. I just wanted you to know that not only are Jovians here, but they had sent men toward Dunland and Dragonspire, I assume to scout. Although I am not certain and I didn’t give them the chance to answer before we cut them down. These men paid a small price for the death of one of my brothers and until Ku’tal says they are no longer in our debt, they shall continue to pay. Go now with the knowledge that until that time, you and your people are safe from the wrath of the Chu Ku’tal.”
Brogas couldn’t help but smile at the arrogance. “I’m sure we will all sleep better knowing that. If you have made a pact with Plebian then I will honor it until it is called off.” Brogas dug his spurs into the side of his horse and made his way toward the troops with Plebian close behind.
A long way had been traveled and the men were weary, but still they trudged on. The battle had begun and several Dunlanders were now on their way back to Gatereach to not only heal up but to assemble more men and secure the non combatants. Brogas, Plebian and the troops had traveled as fast as those without horses could go, but Brogas knew they were already too late due to the carrion birds flying overhead. The second Brogas came out of the woods and saw before him the dead men laying upon the fields words escaped his mouth before he could fight them back. “By the gods, they will pay!”
Brogas caught the sight of a familiar set of armor, Anvil, and he kicked his steed into motion. Within a matter of seconds he was coming down the hill toward his friend and with 5 yards left, he had already started his dismount. Every where the smell of death hung onto the air. His feet touched the ground and immediately he became aware of the fact Anvil was piling the dead of the land.
“Anvil, brother, my eyes are glad to see you alright,” said Brogas as he grabbed his friends bloody hand. “Make haste, friends, as we know not if or when they will return, Dunland is few in numbers but we………” Brogas’ voice faded off as he stared out onto the field at a green surcoat bearing the Christian symbol. Brogas looked over to Anvil who grimaced and continued his work. Brogas took off his helm and dropped it to the ground, then walked slowly toward the figure laying on the ground. There lay the man known across the land as Greybeard. Brogas falls to his knees and a whistle escapes his lips, drawing the attention of nearby men. “Fetch materials to build a sled, this man will be taken to his home and there proper burial will be done,” yelled Brogas almost screaming. Brogas took the arms of the knight and crossed them across the sword on his chest, he then rose not taking his eyes off the knight and turned back toward Anvil.
Bending down to help Anvil lift a body he stopped then looked up to Anvil, “This is just the beginning, friend, isn’t it?”

[Suihaden]

Hearing Nichtmars voice; Sui roused from his reverie. Looking around, he examined the hut. It was built solidly of wooden timbers and had a thick oaken door blocking the only. His tabbard was in tatters and his mail slashed in many places and a bandage was on his back. The ropes that were the only reward of his struggles with his captors rubbed raw on his wrists. Sui lifted his hands to his mouth and bit savagely down, tearing off a small strand of hemp. Grimacing at the taste, he continued his gnawing. Between bites he talked, "Just a littile more chewing..mmmphh....and I'll get these...grrrmph....ropes off...rmmph....then we can....mmphgr.... find a way...gmmphh... out."

[greybeardabbot]

A day and a night of jostleing on a beir... just the thing to awake a knight from the dead.

GB: "Where am I? Someone untie me from this unholy contraption!"

[Taos]

Shaking off his grogginess, Taos smoothly leaped upright from his prone position. He slowly took in the surroundings, turning in place as he took stock of the situation. He steps over to the walls, bending slightly to gaze through a chink in the timbers.

"Soldiers all around, and a palisade encircling us. Looks like they plan to take no chances with their prisoners."

Turning back to the other two, he finally took notice of Suihaden.

"Spare your teeth, child. Your effort is commendable, but I will die of old age before you free yourself."

Carefully reaching under his armor, he pulls a short, serrated dagger from its hidden sheath and drops it at Sui's feet.

"Be quick, my own bonds are too well tied to reach with the blade."

[greybeardabbot]

Greybeard bouces along as the foot end of the bier slides down the rough road. Since the head head is elavated poles that rise over the horses back, he sways gently with each step the beast takes...
GB: "Yo! Hey! Somebody?" He cries out in frustration to deaf ears." For the moment he lays back his head and watches the scenery...pass.... Where am I?