Open Chronicles Field of Blood, City of Bones

[Nikaia]

He shrugged apologetically.
"Trust me, I've been called worse than that! But like I said, I do have some standards."

“And by standards you mean you have to own them?” She said, finally seeing an opportunity to go on the offensive in their little banter. “Do you plan to purchase someone here and wed them?”

He laughed out loud.
"Says the lady who hasn't touched a drop yet! This is your favorite place isn't it? I've yet to see proof!"
He took another deep gulp, this time without coughing, and set down the bottle with a sigh.

“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, this wine is strong, and you do need to mix it with water for it to actually be safe to drink. It doesn’t happen often, and usually in elderly or small people, but drinking this wine unwatered in any amount beyond a cup can prove fatal.” She says mixing some water in as she said this, then took a swig. “And on the subject of heavy alcohols you brought up, wine is wine because of how it’s made and what it’s made from. The northern alcohol, mead I think it is, is technically wine. But enough of that. What contracts have you taken already? What were they for?”

 

[Tyrone Kystal]

“And by standards you mean you have to own them?”

“Do you plan to purchase someone here and wed them?”

"Are you suggesting that I do? Where I come from it's a greater crime to own a slave than to be one. When a man makes a claim on a woman it's a connection that is far beyond that of master and slave, both are master and both are slave to each other. And as far as my standards go, it's in poor taste to make moves on a woman who's already in such a partnership with someone else, so I find it prudent to ask early on."

“Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, this wine is strong, and you do need to mix it with water for it to actually be safe to drink. It doesn’t happen often, and usually in elderly or small people, but drinking this wine unwatered in any amount beyond a cup can prove fatal.”

"Well, in case you hadn't noticed, I can hold my liquor!"
But still, he gratefully began watering it down.

"But enough of that. What contracts have you taken already? What were they for?”

He shrugged and took another gulp of his now non-lethal drink.
"Adventurer requests mostly. Whenever villages need a monster killed they call a monster hunter, whenever their having trouble with bandits or other big deal outside threats they call mercenaries, but when their having problems and have no clue what it could be, whether magical or mundane or downright grotesque, they call for adventurers."

 

[Nikaia]

"Are you suggesting that I do? Where I come from it's a greater crime to own a slave than to be one. When a man makes a claim on a woman it's a connection that is far beyond that of master and slave, both are master and both are slave to each other. And as far as my standards go, it's in poor taste to make moves on a woman who's already in such a partnership with someone else, so I find it prudent to ask early on."

“An interesting doctrine, far different from our own, but I can see the reasoning behind it. Our relationships work far differently, and you might not like the way a Mann proposes here I feel you follow your peoples ideals of marriage stiffly.” She says taking a mouthful of wine. She looked at him, her eyebrow cocked as it seemed to be quite often. “So what you’re saying is that you plan to move on me?”

Well, in case you hadn't noticed, I can hold my liquor!"
But still, he gratefully began watering it down.

She grinned. He clearly could since he had just downed a glass without watering it down. “I noticed.”

He shrugged and took another gulp of his now non-lethal drink.
"Adventurer requests mostly. Whenever villages need a monster killed they call a monster hunter, whenever their having trouble with bandits or other big deal outside threats they call mercenaries, but when their having problems and have no clue what it could be, whether magical or mundane or downright grotesque, they call for adventurers."

“So odd jobs mostly. Sounds pretty interesting. I was asking for details though, what are your most memorable contracts?” She asked. “Mine was probably dealing with a necromancer.”

 

[Tyrone Kystal]

“So what you’re saying is that you plan to move on me?”

He was sufficiently lubricated, so he felt confident in confirming her words.
"If you'll let me, I'd like to. I'd imagine other drunk leches catcall you all the time on duty, but did you know that you're beautiful?"
He had set his drink down and was leaning on the table again, but this time not so far, his eyes steadily scanning her own.

“So odd jobs mostly. Sounds pretty interesting. I was asking for details though, what are your most memorable contracts?”

“Mine was probably dealing with a necromancer.”

"Memorable contracts eh? Hard to top a necromancer, especially when they get their hordes up to steam." He thought for a minute about that.
"I would have to say it's when I killed a Werewolf. A female, was a bitch even in human form, hated the village because she married down and was regretting it. Killed her husband and was killing people one by one before they asked for an Adventurer to deal with it.

 

[Nikaia]

He was sufficiently lubricated, so he felt confident in confirming her words.
"If you'll let me, I'd like to. I'd imagine other drunk leches catcall you all the time on duty, but did you know that you're beautiful?"
He had set his drink down and was leaning on the table again, but this time not so far, his eyes steadily scanning her own.

“Don’t let me stop you. In case you hadn’t noticed, my people respect strength, especially in men, how are expected to be on the stronger end of the spectrum. So if you want me, it’s not going to be a dance, it’s going to be a hunt. You’ll have to chase me down if you want me.” She said, her cheeks slightly brighter than before, suggesting that she was getting a little on the hammered end. Not quite all the way though, but she was definitely appearing more friendly.

"Memorable contracts eh? Hard to top a necromancer, especially when they get their hordes up to steam." He thought for a minute about that.
"I would have to say it's when I killed a Werewolf. A female, was a bitch even in human form, hated the village because she married down and was regretting it. Killed her husband and was killing people one by one before they asked for an Adventurer to deal with it.

“A werewolf huh? Interesting. But not enough details muscles, how’d you beat her? Did you move on her too? How good was she?” Yep, definitely getting on the hammered end.

 

[Tyrone Kystal]

“Don’t let me stop you. In case you hadn’t noticed, my people respect strength, especially in men, how are expected to be on the stronger end of the spectrum. So if you want me, it’s not going to be a dance, it’s going to be a hunt. You’ll have to chase me down if you want me.”

He grinned at the challenge, but his own challenge came forth, she was appealing to his northern blood and it made him feel very predatory.
"Tomorrow I'll see you fight, I'll see you kill, and when I do I'll know if you are worthy of hunting."

“A werewolf huh? Interesting. But not enough details muscles, how’d you beat her? Did you move on her too? How good was she?”

He chuckled as he thought back.
"She was desperate to leave that village, so every moment she was a human up until I tracked her down she was all but throwing herself on me. As a wolf she was extremely evasive and difficult to bring down. It was a series of traps I set up that finally got her exactly where I wanted her. Her agility was such that no arrow or spear could reach her, so I set up such an array that moved her little by little right into position for my silver tipped arrow to finally strike her."
He took another gulp of his wine before refilling his cup.
"Mid air was the only place where she couldn't get out of the way, and when she was forced to jump to avoid my traps, my arrow wounded her. After that it was a simple challenge of finding someone with a limp, and we had our werewolf."

 

[Nikaia]

He grinned at the challenge, but his own challenge came forth, she was appealing to his northern blood and it made him feel very predatory.
"Tomorrow I'll see you fight, I'll see you kill, and when I do I'll know if you are worthy of hunting."

She looked him in the face with a grin. “So you like dangerous game do you? You won’t be disappointed, I can promise you that. I will tell you this ahead of time, culturally, our women don’t respect a man they can beat in a fight, I hope you can take me, otherwise you’ll be up a creek without a paddle.”

He chuckled as he thought back.
"She was desperate to leave that village, so every moment she was a human up until I tracked her down she was all but throwing herself on me. As a wolf she was extremely evasive and difficult to bring down. It was a series of traps I set up that finally got her exactly where I wanted her. Her agility was such that no arrow or spear could reach her, so I set up such an array that moved her little by little right into position for my silver tipped arrow to finally strike her."
He took another gulp of his wine before refilling his cup.
"Mid air was the only place where she couldn't get out of the way, and when she was forced to jump to avoid my traps, my arrow wounded her. After that it was a simple challenge of finding someone with a limp, and we had our werewolf."

She listened closely. Not the way she would have done it but it clearly worked. “So more of a hunt than a fight. Not quite what I was hoping for but interesting nonetheless. Very crafty of you. Tell me, have you ever confronted a Chimera before? A huge lion with goat’s rearend, it’s head out of it’s back and a venom spitting snake for a tail? It’s quite the monster I tell you, probably one of the biggest around in this part of the world. Ever seen one?”

 

[Tyrone Kystal]

“So you like dangerous game do you? You won’t be disappointed, I can promise you that. I will tell you this ahead of time, culturally, our women don’t respect a man they can beat in a fight, I hope you can take me, otherwise you’ll be up a creek without a paddle.”

Sometimes people say what they don't mean to say, at least out loud. But what he heard was "I hope you can take me", which told him that she's already predisposed towards him, but he kept that to himself.
"The dangerous game is the only one I play, it'll be a true pleasure to finally play it with someone else worthy, provided you ARE worthy... As far as being up a creek, it's fun, and if you've lost your paddle not all is lost if you know the right tricks."

“So more of a hunt than a fight. Not quite what I was hoping for but interesting nonetheless. Very crafty of you. Tell me, have you ever confronted a Chimera before? A huge lion with goat’s rearend, it’s head out of it’s back and a venom spitting snake for a tail? It’s quite the monster I tell you, probably one of the biggest around in this part of the world. Ever seen one?”

"I've faced the three headed kind with wings, four heads if you count the serpent tail. A lions head, a goats head, and a dragons head. It might be a regional cousin of the Chimera you describe. We called them Mountain Chimeras and they usually battle the Griffons for territory, our tribe would hunt them as a coming of age ritual."

 

[Nikaia]

Sometimes people say what they don't mean to say, at least out loud. But what he heard was "I hope you can take me", which told him that she's already predisposed towards him, but he kept that to himself.
"The dangerous game is the only one I play, it'll be a true pleasure to finally play it with someone else worthy, provided you ARE worthy... As far as being up a creek, it's fun, and if you've lost your paddle not all is lost if you know the right tricks."

“We’ll see about that now won’t we muscles?” She said grinning.

"I've faced the three headed kind with wings, four heads if you count the serpent tail. A lions head, a goats head, and a dragons head. It might be a regional cousin of the Chimera you describe. We called them Mountain Chimeras and they usually battle the Griffons for territory, our tribe would hunt them as a coming of age ritual."

She looked up in surprise, she had seriously underestimated him. She knew that he was capable just by looking, but a chimera with four heads and wings? No small feat. “You surprise me. I’ve only faced the kind of chimera I’ve described for you. I was pretty badly hurt in the fight, it died, but I almost didn’t make it. Earned me a demotion.”

 

[Tyrone Kystal]

“You surprise me. I’ve only faced the kind of chimera I’ve described for you. I was pretty badly hurt in the fight, it died, but I almost didn’t make it. Earned me a demotion.”

He groaned sympathetically for her, "That's one reason why I left the Allirian army. No recognition for my abilities or skills, I was either front line fodder, or born to a rich family. Turned out that I wasn't either one so I left.
But don't feel bad! In my tribe you would've been hailed as a warrior the minute you woke up and received a blessing from the elders. So in MY book at least, you're a warrior deserving of recognition."
If he were a king in a land that respected strength, it would be just that. You were either strong enough or you weren't, the merit of the individual recognized and respected. Though during his travels he's learned of the usefulness of those less strong, their abilities for thought and cunning and wit. Some of his greatest companions were people such as these that could outsmart him even when he could crush their bones.
So he would want to make sure they are not left behind regardless of where their strengths lay.

"My battle with the Chimera wasn't easy either. It's tail head struck me early on so I spent the entire battle under the influence of its venom... I've already said too much because I'm drunk, but the trial is very personal and sacred to all the warriors of my tribe and we guard the endeavor close to our hearts. I left for my trial as a boy, and returned to my village as a man baring the three heads tied together with the tail."

 

[Nikaia]

He groaned sympathetically for her, "That's one reason why I left the Allirian army. No recognition for my abilities or skills, I was either front line fodder, or born to a rich family. Turned out that I wasn't either one so I left.
But don't feel bad! In my tribe you would've been hailed as a warrior the minute you woke up and received a blessing from the elders. So in MY book at least, you're a warrior deserving of recognition."

She beamed gratefully, “that’s really sweet muscles, I appreciate it. The philosophy behind it is I was careless enough to be injured, which means I can’t be trusted with command. So I was demoted and put in the third to last line. Very shameful for someone who held the rank of captain a few years back.”

"My battle with the Chimera wasn't easy either. It's tail head struck me early on so I spent the entire battle under the influence of its venom... I've already said too much because I'm drunk, but the trial is very personal and sacred to all the warriors of my tribe and we guard the endeavor close to our hearts. I left for my trial as a boy, and returned to my village as a man baring the three heads tied together with the tail."

“I’d have loved to see that.”

 

[Tyrone Kystal]

“that’s really sweet muscles, I appreciate it. The philosophy behind it is I was careless enough to be injured, which means I can’t be trusted with command. So I was demoted and put in the third to last line. Very shameful for someone who held the rank of captain a few years back.”

He couldn't help but scoff at this, but he was drunk and his better judgement was fairly inhibited. "There is no good excuse to NOT be injured when fighting a wild animal, and a magical creature at that, especially if you've never done it before. Carelessness is not making proper precautions, carelessness is death, carelessness is not living to tell the tale! Brass are the same no matter where you go it seems."
He drained the last of the dregs of his wine. Some would say it was a bad idea to fill your stomach before a battle, but he followed a different philosophy. While your enemy is outside the walls camping under the stars and living on rations and whatever they can hunt, you're inside feasting and warm so you can fight at full strength! If you throw it up the next day, so be it, but your body has already taken what it needs and it is ready!

“I’d have loved to see that.”

That gave him cause to pause and regard her once more. Definitely not as pretty to look at as she was when he was sober, when your mind swims and you start seeing things it's a good time to call it a night. But he met her eyes and brought them into focus in his vision, his voice lowered to a soft rumble.
"Maybe I could show you sometime... The Spine, the mountain tribes..."
He leaned in, his blue eyes never breaking contact with hers.
"Once we win, once we destroy all those who oppose us, when I know your steel and you know my iron, Maybe we'll go away together and take the world for ourselves."
It was a promise that he heard before from his village, someone recited it to him or he overheard it, but he couldn't quite remember where it came from.

But it was getting late, and the tiny sober part of his brain said it was time to go to bed and prepare for war.
"I look forward to seeing you fight tomorrow. May rivers of blood reach the sea."
After that farewell he stood up to go, he couldn't help the ache in his chest as he moved away from the table.
A thought arose unbidden from the back of his subconscious... "... Let her be the one..."

 

[Nikaia]

He couldn't help but scoff at this, but he was drunk and his better judgement was fairly inhibited. "There is no good excuse to NOT be injured when fighting a wild animal, and a magical creature at that, especially if you've never done it before. Carelessness is not making proper precautions, carelessness is death, carelessness is not living to tell the tale! Brass are the same no matter where you go it seems."

“To us there is. Sad, but true. The thing is me and my people aren’t supposed to show any kind of weakness, no matter the reason. It doesn’t matter if you’re run through by a spear, the only excuse for weakness is death, that is the only excuse for not fighting. And carelessness is often the charge that the extremely injured face, it’s never as serious as jail time, but it’s usually a demotion. The first demotion brought me down from Captain, or Kentyrion, to Dekyrion, from in charge of one hundred soldiers, to in charge of ten, and usually not giving orders, just keeping the nine others in peak condition.” She says taking her last swig as it would, as he downed the rest. She was impressed by his tolerance for lethal doses of alcohol, really.

That gave him cause to pause and regard her once more. Definitely not as pretty to look at as she was when he was sober, when your mind swims and you start seeing things it's a good time to call it a night. But he met her eyes and brought them into focus in his vision, his voice lowered to a soft rumble.
"Maybe I could show you sometime... The Spine, the mountain tribes..."
He leaned in, his blue eyes never breaking contact with hers.
"Once we win, once we destroy all those who oppose us, when I know your steel and you know my iron, Maybe we'll go away together and take the world for ourselves."

She cocked an eyebrow, again, and listened grinning. “And how many women have you caught with that particular line?”

But it was getting late, and the tiny sober part of his brain said it was time to go to bed and prepare for war.
"I look forward to seeing you fight tomorrow. May rivers of blood reach the sea."
After that farewell he stood up to go, he couldn't help the ache in his chest as he moved away from the table.
A thought arose unbidden from the back of his subconscious... "... Let her be the one..."

“Bear your shield home, or be borne upon it.” She said gripping his hand in a firm handshake, despite her drunkenness. “And never let your enemy see your back.”

She said it in a fond tone, and despite it being a little cold as far as the words themselves go, it was spoken warmly. Then she herself turned and left.

The barracks were only for the active garrison, which rotated once a month, and for hired mercenaries, usually archers, of which she was neither, so she returned to her own home, a standard building of limestone with a simple interior, a cook stove, a few cabinets and a bed. Simple but not uncomfortable. She laid her sword aside with her shield and spear, then after removing her “armor” she laid down to sleep.

 

[Traecon Maxwell]

He took the night watch.

It was a curious thing for most of the soldiers when he had shown up to the commander in the barracks, a drunken soldier slung across his shoulder. His gaze was of annoyance, boredom, and amusement all in one, which made for a very confused but annoyed captain as he gazed down at the familiar soldier. He knew that one. A good soldier, but horrid with liquor. He knew it, but bad habits died hard for this one.

"I see Atreyu has gone on one of his challenges?"

Traecon had shrugged. "The two of us were two drinks away from cleaning out the bar. He slipped and conked himself on a chair. He'll be out like a light."

The swordsman himself was partly responsible. He had been three drinks away from cleaning out the whole bar where he was at. Every soldier who could hold his liquor but seen his tolerance had backed away. But one blundering man had challenged him and keeled over after a single pint, not seeing the literal mountain of mugs piled beside and in the bar itself.

Pity.

"I apologize, sell-sword. But with this one inebriated, we have a vacancy in our patrols."

Which led to this situation. He was glad it was a solo watch, and that the area he was overseeing was supposed to be where the enemy would strike from. He doubted it, but he was just hired to fight, not oversee the command himself. A fine night though, as he gazed up at the full moon. He had fought beneath a similar moon once, against those whom drunk blood.

How he had survived that night was up for question, even today, but he was all the deadlier warrior for it. His sword lay against the balcony of his post, inert but no less sharp for it. A reason for his drinking had also been two-fold - to try out the alcohol of this place (tasted like piss, but there was enough for him to forget about that) and to warn some opportunistic mercenaries other than himself to not touch the weapon, or himself.

It also helped he had downed a potion to help burn through all that mead quicker beforehand. Wouldn't help to fight drunk himself.

A quiet night. He watched two below, a fellow mercenary and a captain - if the helmet was anything to go by - part. He scoffed. Let there be romance in the fighting, not before. It made sudden departures all the more depressing for those involved. Even then, he would not recommend it.

As he watched them blunder to their homes, he kept watch.

'If I see assassins lurking about, I'll be using my sword as a toothpick for a day.'

Bit of a hectic week, since college started. Got some of my affairs in order so I'll be more free henceforth. Sorry

 

[Nikaia]

He took the night watch.

It was a curious thing for most of the soldiers when he had shown up to the commander in the barracks, a drunken soldier slung across his shoulder. His gaze was of annoyance, boredom, and amusement all in one, which made for a very confused but annoyed captain as he gazed down at the familiar soldier. He knew that one. A good soldier, but horrid with liquor. He knew it, but bad habits died hard for this one.

"I see Atreyu has gone on one of his challenges?"

Traecon had shrugged. "The two of us were two drinks away from cleaning out the bar. He slipped and conked himself on a chair. He'll be out like a light."

The swordsman himself was partly responsible. He had been three drinks away from cleaning out the whole bar where he was at. Every soldier who could hold his liquor but seen his tolerance had backed away. But one blundering man had challenged him and keeled over after a single pint, not seeing the literal mountain of mugs piled beside and in the bar itself.

Pity.

"I apologize, sell-sword. But with this one inebriated, we have a vacancy in our patrols."

Which led to this situation. He was glad it was a solo watch, and that the area he was overseeing was supposed to be where the enemy would strike from. He doubted it, but he was just hired to fight, not oversee the command himself. A fine night though, as he gazed up at the full moon. He had fought beneath a similar moon once, against those whom drunk blood.

How he had survived that night was up for question, even today, but he was all the deadlier warrior for it. His sword lay against the balcony of his post, inert but no less sharp for it. A reason for his drinking had also been two-fold - to try out the alcohol of this place (tasted like piss, but there was enough for him to forget about that) and to warn some opportunistic mercenaries other than himself to not touch the weapon, or himself.

It also helped he had downed a potion to help burn through all that mead quicker beforehand. Wouldn't help to fight drunk himself.

A quiet night. He watched two below, a fellow mercenary and a captain - if the helmet was anything to go by - part. He scoffed. Let there be romance in the fighting, not before. It made sudden departures all the more depressing for those involved. Even then, he would not recommend it.

As he watched them blunder to their homes, he kept watch.

'If I see assassins lurking about, I'll be using my sword as a toothpick for a day.'

(Welcome back!)

 

[Tyrone Kystal]

Spoiler

Welcome back!

“And how many women have you caught with that particular line?”

He shrugged, "None, unless you would like to count yourself as the first. But do with it what you will, I won't decide for you."

“Bear your shield home, or be borne upon it.”

“And never let your enemy see your back.”

Her words were well received. Fine sentiments all. He gripped her arm as they clasped each other. How did the saying go? "Birds of a feather flock together." They were birds of a feather, and he would even go so far to say that she was a woman after his own heart, but he would know for sure when he sees her fight.

They parted ways and he returned to the barracks and picked out a vacant bunk. He stashed his gear by the headboard and leaned his sword next to his head before laying down himself, his mind filled with images of Nikaia. These were unbidden thoughts that he attributed to the wine, but also unbidden as sleep began to overtake his mind came the thought from earlier that he realized was more of a prayer.
"Please let it be her..."

 

[Nikaia]

She laid down, a prayer of her own escaping her lips. Thank you, Lady Pandema, thank you for the answer to my prayers. Thank you.

She slept well that night, albeit with rather... unorthodox dreams. Dreams which kept her from remaining still whilst she slept, definitely not dreams her father would approve of, likely brought to her by the goddess Pandema herself, probably to tease her with the potential conclusion of what had started earlier that evening.

The following morning, the mercenaries were called together to be assigned their place in the line. Maxwell and Tyrone just happened to be assigned to places next to one another’s on the left flank. The archers were to be set behind the line. After that they were instructed simply to wait until they’d heard the horn. Luckily, they didn’t need to wait long. A horde of mostly naked men wielding axes and roundshields.

To the line it was with them.

 

[Traecon Maxwell]

Traecon had a few hours sleep, which worked wonders as he found himself stretching casually, his sword out tip-first onto the ground. While he was not putting any pressure on the sword, it still dug a millimetre or two into the marble. The runes lining its edge and the center of the weapon flickered occasionally, as he transferred his body heat, storing it for later use.

The mercs around him glanced at the weapon every other minute, uneasy at how the eyeholes of its hilt-skull seemed to slowly brighten with Traecon's every movement, as if it were coming alive.

"That a cursed sword, mate?"

Traecon simply rested both hands on the handle and pommel, staring ahead at the foe approaching their line. "If it were cursed, then all the better, given what we're about to face. But no, it isn't."

The horde approaching them did not feel oppressive, at first. He had seen such barbarians before, clans that enforced honor and integrity of a warrior's code. He himself did not meet such men's standards, purely from the fact he was an outsider. Did not stop his blade from burning encampments to the ground. But as the numbers continued to swell well after the front lines had breached the horizon...

He had doubts, clenching his sword tighter.

 

[Tyrone Kystal]

Finally, the front lines... Unfortunately he was IN a line, an added challenge to swinging his greatsword. Those barbarians will definitely have mobility over them, but the strength of these soldiers were in their solid formation.
He looked at the merc beside him, it was the guy he saw earlier, and he had an enchanted sword? A good person to have watching your back.
As he watched the approaching line of barbarians he spoke aloud to the mercenary.
"The name's Tyrone. You got a specific plan for dealing with these dogs? I was told our job was to counter ambushes against the formations flank. Seems they would rather let their own soldiers take the brunt of the attack instead of letting the expendable help soak up the casualties up front."
He held his greatsword in one hand the flat of the blade resting on his shoulder. His eyes scanned around the formation he was supposed to protect, they already had their shield walls up and their spears at the ready. If an ambush did occur they wouldn't be that worse off than the front lines, but flanking attacks were usually heavy and hard with the intention to make the formation crumble.

Longingly his eyes scanned the tree line. If he were in there hidden amongst their enemies he could do more good than standing as a bulwark against a tide of flesh and iron.
The approaching barbarians were certainly impressive, but he knew their tactics, he was practically one of them at one point. Their only hope for an effective attack lay in their ability to break through the shield wall, in the midst of their enemies their strength and heavy weapons could be used to devastating effect.
He could feel his blood heat up as the battle fever sunk into his muscles, he gripped his sword in anticipation and held himself back like a ravening wolf on a leash.

 

[Nikaia]

The mercenaries were indeed in a line, not quite so tight as the phalanx though. Nikaia, to her frustration and shame was in the third line back, not in on the action yet. The mercenaries were in place because a phalanxes was indestructible from the front, but vulnerable on the flanks and rear.

The barbarians came in, screaming horribly and painted with black war paint and their gleaming axes waving about aggressively. They beat against the stoic phalanx, no to long before men with two handed axes, also mostly naked and painted green not black to blend in with the grass.

Nikaia move day into the second file, now she could start stabbing people.

 

[Nikaia]

(Hey Max, you okay?)

 

[Tyrone Kystal]

Tyrone watched for any sign of Nikaia, again it was nearly impossible to tell one woman soldier from the next with their helmets on, but he was sure she would distinguish herself soon. In the meantime he watched the treeline with feral intensity. Their forces were already clashing and the sounds of battle were erupting from the front line, the sensations, scents and sounds made his adrenaline pound but he still remained vigilant. There were times he could have sworn he saw a barbarian rush between the trees but they held off on their attack.

A good commander might have scouted them out and noticed the company of mercenaries that now guarded the flanks, perhaps the barbarians did so and that's why they held off, or they just now discovered the new threat and were awaiting orders? But just as he hoped, the barbarians had little patience, a loud horn sounded and the half naked warriors charged screaming bloody murder at their foes!

"Finally!"

Tyrone tore the cloak from his body revealing his armor and intimidating display of iron mountain man muscle, the first part of battle is always psychological, thus the nakedness and wild screaming of their enemies, he was practically one of them so he knew the proper counter to such tactics and he raised his sword with an equally fearsome battle cry and charged out to meet them half way. While he half expected to be the only one charging since he broke rank his leap to action invoked the same response in those around him which caused the others to follow suit, most of them were once soldiers as well and fell easily into a chain of command since the mercenaries were basically leaderless. Tyrone lead from the head of a wedge formation charge aimed right at the middle of the barbarians wide and disorganized attack, since they had little cohesion they won't be able to break any formation, but they could start cutting a bloody swath through the ambush.

The barbarians also favored weapons that utilized their strength so a closed formation meant they could hardly maneuver, same for Tyrone, but taking the offensive with people to back him up made for a tactically sound decision.

The mercenary army pounded across the battlefield to gladly meet their for or their maker, whichever came first, this is what they were paid for. Tyrone cut down the first barbarian, a young man with a scraggly beard, and began plowing through the rest of him, slowing down wasn't an option or a plan, if they stalled now the barbarians could recover and resist their onslaught, the only way was forward!
His sword rose and fell, he hardly spared even a moment for more than one barbarian, if his first cut didn't kill him then he settled for a shallow cut before he ran past to the next one while his comrades dealt with the ones he was just fighting.
The deeper Tyrone fought into the barbarian assault, the deeper the wedge penetrated in an expanding charge.
They only had a small company of mercenary warriors, but it was enough to put the barbarians into a panic and soon the Rams horn sounded a retreat. This was only the first round of the siege.

Tyrone stood amid the bodies of the slain, the blood of his enemies splattered and soaking his ripped body and made it shine like he was covered in oil, though it would darken as it dried, only a single deep cut ran unnoticed across his ribs. He was breathing hard with his sword buried in the back of the last retreating barbarian, grinning like a madman so that even the other mercenaries hesitated to report to him. They only suffered a few unlucky casualties in their impromptu counter attack, the losses were unfortunate but acceptable.

He raised his blood stained head and scanned the rest of the battle, looking once again for signs of Nikaia.

 

[Nikaia]

Nikaia, now in the front of the steadily advancing wall of spear said and shields. While the two units of mercenaries cut through the flanking forces, the phalanx steamrolled the main horde of barbarians. They were tough, and their loose formation allowed for greater mobility than they thought, and the mercenaries, while they did succeed at pushing the men back, they weren’t so good at killing them off.

The battle was a little tougher than some would think, and as a result, the first two ranks of the phalanxes launched their spears, drew their swords and closed in. It was not a simple clean as some would want it to be, but after a number of hours in stalemate the barbarians pulled back after three blasts of a horn.

The battle was over, for now. What they didn’t know was that they were distracted for a long enough period for their plan to be put in place. Nikaia, carrying her bronze xiphos sword, both it, her and her shield were drenched in blood, much like Maxwell and Tyrone.

 

[Tyrone Kystal]

He somehow spotted her amid the aftermath of the front battle... And damn she was beautiful clothed in a layer of gore, he hardly paid attention as the self elected mercenary captains tried to give him a rundown of their current forces.
She had killed her fair share, but he would have liked to see it. The evidence of her battle covered her and smeared over her porcelain skin and it aroused him.

He interrupted the captain mid-sentence.
"Rally the others and send word to the other flank team. We'll cover the main army when they are ready to fall back behind the walls, in the meantime get everyone back to the flanks."
Strategically this was only a test, the barbarians were likely testing their defenses by using historical tactics to see what's changed and how they should adjust accordingly. He was already thinking of ways to switch things up and keep the enemy guessing, but he couldn't keep breaking rank without permission, he would need to find someone that he can clear his tactics with and coordinate. They were lucky it worked this time, but he needed to operate in an official capacity and establish himself among the mercenaries as well before they start rebelling against his "Assumed" leadership.

A matter for another time. His adrenaline began to slow down a little and the wine he drank last night came up violently. He wiped his mouth and got up immediately after; yup, all better now!
He hefted his sword and followed his comrades back to the flank defense.
He will definitely need to wash off after this.

 

[Nikaia]

The line retreated strategically and safely. With two phalanx units staying back to face oncoming attackers if they reappeared while the rest retreated. Then two more units would take up positions a short ways behind them and allow the first units to retreat into the city safely, along with the mercenaries. They didn’t know what the barbarians had ready for them. But that was not going to be revealed for a while now.

All of the soldiers who had fought and had blood on their weapons, and themselves, were sent along with the mercenaries to the bathhouse to clean up. They would be brought to a huge limestone pavilion, supported by many thick white columns with a long, semi-deep, steaming pool running the length of it, plenty of room for all those who were going to wash there.

Along the sides of the long public bath were many statues depicting various things, myths and stories, or historical figures of great importance. Most of which were ignored by the people who were currently bathing, washing the blood from their skin. It was because of this that the mercenaries would discover that the baths were constantly circulating the water, letting the blood wash away and keep the bath clean.