Open Chronicles Border Encounters (Vel Anir vs Cortos)

[Roul]

Baron Idris skipped through the air, boots repelling him inches off the ground with magnetospheric energy so that he never quite touched the ground. He was clad head to toe in his enchanted armor, faceplate down. Scrolls protruded from pouches at his waist and sapphires as big as apples glittered on his palms.

Ahead, the Anirian patrol caught sight of him. Troops started raising crossbows and leveling spears.

Idris grit his teeth. The other cities of Cortos might think it fine to let Coraliv and the others fall, but he would be damned before he let any Anirian patrol near Tel Idris. With the current of the Roaring Brother river at his back, Idris charged them. Alone.

 

[Wulfric]

Dreadlords were supposedly Vel Anir's finest, nay Arethil's finest battlemages. Across Liadain people feared their strength, while even in Epressa bards told of their battlefield deeds. Single Dreadlords were reported to capture cities alone and unharmed. Wulfric had been forced into their caste, but today as a mentor-less apprentice. Ademar Acero had been his latest taskmaster, assigning Wulfric to join the border patrols. Wulfric wasn't sure if this was some measure of punishment for being put on Ademar's plate, or an attempt to get him to see some combat without the demons, monsters, and armies that usually plagued Dreadlord assignments.

"How come the baby Dreadlord's shield has rust. Do they not take care of their arms?" Wulfric heard one of the guardsman speak, but didn't bother to entertain him.

"I'm more interested in why his sword sits in a block of metal." One of the other guards gossiped.

"Quiet." Wulfric commanded. He may not have been fully fledged, but he was still technically the officer on assignment. "That man over there, see his armor? That's custom. Very custom." Sen, Rivan, let him know this is the territory of Vel Anir, and ask his intentions."

Baron Idris could have been simply been a monster Hunter looking for work, but he was well equipped. Suspiciously well equipped. The men read his tone and raised their Spears and crossbows as they approached the Baron, Wulfric following behind.

Then the man charged. Wulfric pulled at the handle on his back, pulling and forming a sword out of the block of steel on his back. Two of his men would fire their crossbows at the man in enchanted armor, while three others would charge with their spears. Seemed border patrol had it's excitement after all.

 

[Ademar Acero]

There was tension between the oligarchy kingdom of Vel Anir and the city states of Cortos ever since Anirian soldiers conquered the city island of Coraliv. Ademar imagined the whole island be united and organize a strike against Vel Anir and her cities, but the island was a unique case. From the little intel reports there was a schism between heretics and religious zealots, the latter being more united than their counterparts that resided on the coast of Cortos.

It was perfect to launch a campaign and conquer the entire island because of the internal conflict in Cortos.

No army dared to cross the river and raise pikes at Vel Anir.

Until today...in the form of a man suspended from the air.

Finally something to cleave with his claymore and stain it with blood.

It was a bit suspicious for Ademar to see one man attack the patrol. A mage? Or a skilled tactician with an army in hiding? The Anirian guards didn’t seem to care and charged with excitement. Ademar would wait and see what capabilities this stranger had, thus allowing the three soldiers that charged be the guinea pigs. His claymore was sheathed on his back and his hands carried a two handed mace. He would not use his magic just yet.

 

[Roul]

The taught gutstring of the crossbows released with a snap, hurtling quarrels tipped with steel that would punch through chainmaille with ease. But the Baron did not wear chain. His thick bronze breastplate gleamed in the light of the noonday sun like gold. The quarrels struck it and shattered, spinning in the air in a shower of wooden fragments. The Baron charged through them, flowing straight toward the attacking spearmen.

He slapped aside a spear haft with a gauntlet and then drove his elbow into the man’s unarmored face beneath the kettle helm. There was a crunch of bone and cartilage and the man dropped to the ground, blood pouring from his flattened nose.

Idris felt a spear skitter across his armor, searching for a gap. He whirled on the attacker, snapped the spear haft over an armored knee, then flipped the broken shaft around and slammed the broad steel head into the Anirian’s neck.

The third and final spear man paused for just a moment seeing both his comrades on the ground. It was enough. Idris pushed off with his weightless boots and leaped through the air. His right hand came around in a closed fist and bronze backed knuckles collided with a jaw.

CRACK.

The Anirian dropped like a dead man.

Hovering a few inches off the ground, the Baron turned a helm etched with a scowling face upon the remaining foes.

 

[Wulfric]

Not only was the assailant well armed, he was quick, and incredibly strong. Wulfric suspected his armor had something to do with that. Spears and crossbow bolts had little effect on the traveler, his bronze armor still gleaming in the sunlight. He had aimed to use the point of his sword to penetrate the armor, but if the spears did nothing, he would need another tactic. Magic pulsed through Wulfric's arm, and his sword molded itself into a warhammer. He preferred to penetrate armor, but now the blunt force sending shockwaves to the man's bones would be more useful.

"Aim for his joints, and keep your distance." Wulfric shouted to the crossbowman as he closed the distance between himself and Baron Idris. Shouting your strategy wasn't the best tactic, but it would have to do today. Wulfric would pay close attention to the man's hands, especially the large sapphires, as he swung his warhammer just above the man's gut, aiming to get transfer some force at the man's ribs.

Ademar Acero

 

[Ademar Acero]

He gave an annoyed look, one that Wulfric probably couldn’t see as he was focused on the Baron and closing the distance.

“Damn fool...”

Was he trying to kill himself? Because this was an efficient way to do so. Either the Apprentice wanted to prove himself and claim glory, or was tired of this life and wanted the quick way out that didn’t involve stabbing himself or drinking a poison.

Their single opponent apparently had armor impervious to bolts and piercing blades like that spear he shattered. Fortunately for him he carried a mace, a weapon famous for humbling most refined armors in the land. The mace was ready in his hands, not closing in and allowed the Apprentice to see if this tactic was successful or not.

 

[Roul]

Idris kicked one of the spears up off the ground and launched it at a crossbowman like a javelin, impaling him through the stomach. Just as he did, however, a mighty hammer blow struck his own gut and rang the bronze armor there like a gong. Idris spun away gracefully on those winged boots that never quite touched the ground. He grimaced beneath his helmet, that blow would leave a severe bruise he knew.

A bolt whistled him and he turned on the one wielding the shimmering warhammer. He raised a hand, palm flat, and the sapphire there glowed brilliantly with a growing hum that reached a crescendo when a blast of arcane energy shot out from it and toward the warhammer wielder, capable of knocking him off his feet and sending him flying ten paces backward if it struck.