Open Chronicles Rolling Plains[Bandit Hunt]

A roleplay open for anyone to join
(I'm gonna push us forward so we're not just walking for 20 more posts!)
Thorn | Esmeralda | Acillio Nazzaro | Alona Hawse | Daemon Vorell

Thren wasn't entirely sure where he landed on the spectrum of "We're all gonna die" or "We'll beat those bandits".

For the Barbarian it could still go either way really. Though they were all on the edge of killing one another he couldn't help but glance at some of the people around him. A few of the mercenaries were naught but prettily dressed nobles, but some...some had the air of true fighters about them.

He watched those with interest as they marched, though he tried not to make it entirely too obvious. He listened carefully as some spoke with each other, searching for an actual commander, a plan.

Thren couldn't help but share their concerns. None of this felt right, none of it felt...real. Why pay them all to hunt these bandits? Why not give commands? Why not at least try to organize them? It felt off, and as the sun slowly began to turn he couldn't help but consider it more.

Drumming his fingers against his thigh, Thren continued to wander forward.

As the small army continued to march throughout the day no orders were disseminated, and in fact even the few Allirian Officers with them seemed somewhat clueless. Thren didn't know what was going on, but he heard word fall down the ranks that the Fortress was only two or three leagues away. They were getting close.

Someone needed to step up.
 
Anna was in the bandit fortress her mask on her face hiding her smirk as she advised her troops. "We have gotten word that the armies have sent pathetic Merchants to deal with us."

The witch gave a cackle and straightened her brown hair and adjusted the witch's hat atop her head as she thought about capturing a strong man or woman and converting them to her side.

She snapped out of her thoughts to yell at the men and women forced to fight for her "I will kill anyone who doesn't try please remember that." Anna then started arming the men and women and ordering them outside the fortress and atop it's roof. She grabbed a broomstick and used magic killing two men and with a gust of green light and her on the broom it started to glide into the air above the fortress and in the distance Anna could see the merchants approaching to fight.
 
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As the day passed by Acillio slowly closed in beside Alona Hawse. His golden cat eyes had been studying the army for some time, surveying the lot of soldiers. Many of them were hard boiled from wars, a few were snotty nobility trying to make a righteous claim, and a smattering of boys as green as grass. His hand draped over the pommel of his sword, so natural was the positioning that it seemed to live there.

"Everyone's talking, no officers?" he frowned, "Who the fuck hires an army and doesn't assign officers." There were those in charge of their own companies, such as Acillio, but no leading commander. He highly doubted it, in fact he thought that is what the Merchant Guardsmen from Alliria were here to accomplish. It was at this point Acillio raised his chin and let out an ear-piercing whistle, he directed his gaze to Thren and motioned a 'come hither' with two fingers.

While he waited for Thren to either ignore him or wander on over, Acillio said to Alona, "We've got experience." He hiked a thumb over his shoulder to the wagon behind him, "Sure my men ain't many, but we've both led the Guard back home, and I've led this useless lot for the past year." His hand returned back to the pommel, a casual gesture, he was calm, despite his rough way of speaking, "Before we arrive we ought-ah divvy up the troops and round them up into three more companies. I can probably handle another under my watch, and judging from what they said about you back home, you could handle two."

He weighed up those present and checked the numbers in his head, then looked back to Alona, "Better the power be split than a single commander. One stray shaft and this host is going to route." It was likely the very first thing they'd be met with was a hurricane of arrows. The most dangerous part of a siege was attempting to get inside, once there, well, it was a different ballgame but the chances of survival were better than standing in an open field while arbalists and archers harassed you.
 
So it had been that this very contract happened to not stray far from the likes of training. More specifically, this was training in the Anirian Guard. Who were the leaders, who were the followers? What voices would call above the rest? And who would follow whom? To what end?

Daemon explored all these thoughts and more as he had caught the distinct tone of Acillio's voice. The man showed not only a tenacity for what was coming, but a willingness to confront it. He shouldered his way by a few individuals he had yet to meet so that he might march alongside him and his company, more namely Alona Hawse; save for the others he did not know. "And what's your say on how we divvy up these companies?" Daemon called out to him, his hand gesturing to the army that marched.

He had not meant to intrude, or necessarily even butt in, but that was what was necessary. Victory would not be handed over, it needed to be won. That's why its taste was so bittersweet. "I wouldn't try forcing a strict rank and file with this lot, but what of their skills and equipment?" Daemon asked. "If we plan to keep a foothold in a fortress we need the right men and women for the task."

"I can rally some of the younger and more disheartened with a speech or more, likely that the lass here can do the same... but I believe we'll need to stop and evaluate the capacity of our force. Lest we get too close and march unknowingly into the jaws of death." It was true, every step they took was chance at play.

How many more might they steal before luck ran too thin? Before that hurricane of arrows finally loosed into the sky?

"The name's Daemon, by the way. Vorell, if it interests you. I wager something more than 'hey you' and 'you over there' will make this easier, no?" And with that much said, so returned the smile Daemon had first met this pair with.

Hopefully it would go better this time.
 
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Anna gave her troops a single command "Charge." And charge they did, one hundred men and woman wielding spears, bows and axes lumbered forward ready to kill all those in their way for none of them wanted to die. Other troops waited atop the fortress with bows, matches, arrows and oil. The back ups job was to stop anyone dead in their tracks before they could enter the fortress.

Anna had dismounted her broom stick and went back inside for a moment stepped around bodies of the goblins she had her troops kill took a deep drink from a cup of an unknown liquid on the table and sauntered over to where the goblins had made markings on the wall in a dialect she didn't understand. The witch decided to figure out and study what the marking's meant later when the pesky people who the government had sent to take care of the goblins had met their end then, Anna would go through the fortress like temple and steal any cost worthy items that she could find.

Anna got back atop her still floating broomstick flew outside and then above her army as they ran towards the enemy who were going to try to take the fortress. The maddened witch screamed at the enemies "Join me! Or perish! We have money!"Anna and her army were within seeing range and earshot know and they were growing closer by the minute. Hidden under her fox mask was a look of pure glee as she got ready for the approaching fight.
 
Acillio felt the presence before he saw him, his eyes turned to Daemon. He nodded in greeting but offered no words, until Daemon proved to be a bit of an eavesdropper. "It all comes down to skill sets and companies," Acillio answered, he pointed a finger to some with bows and crossbows, others with spears. "We would have to divide those by their specific skills. Each company would need so many infantry, spearmen and archers, and arbalists."

In the distance the fortress was drawing near. Archers, catapults or even trebuchets could not reach them from this distance. Soon they would stop and set up camp outside the walls, beyond their reach. It made Acillio's throat tighten at the thought of those damned walls.

As Daemon introduced himself Acillio did likewise, placing a hand on Daemons shoulder as they walked and said, "Acillio Nazzaro of Elbion. My friends call me Acillio the Cat." It was obvious why his friends called him such, his eyes were bright golden orbs with only the smallest slither of a pupil, much like a cat. Though that was only half the reason.

Acillio studied the walls and the gates while they walked. Then he saw movement, or perhaps it was the great distance that cast illusions on his eyes. He thought for a moment he saw the gates open and dots moving out. He blinked, stopped in his tracks and squinted. No, he wasn't seeing things at all.

"They've left the walls," he laughed, the dots were moving towards him. He stopped laughing, "Ah fuck," he swore and began to shout. "STOP!" he roared, his company halted. The surprise of his voice was enough to cause the other mercenary outfits around him to stop where they stood. "They're coming," he announced with a shout. Soldiers began to unload the wagon with urgency, and in a matter of moments their goods had been piled onto the ground and the wagon was heaved onto its side as a barricade.

Shields were collected. Stakes that had been piled on the wagon were being forced into the ground. The ox was tethered to the nearest tree. He heard a distant voice, enough to be in earshot but not enough to make out the words. "What was that?" he asked and looked towards the army, spotting something flying above them. "Archers!" Acillio ordered. It was too late to argue about leadership. With the enemy moving towards them those within earshot of Acillio were obeying.

Arbalists and archers lined up, crossbowmen took a knee and archers stood behind them. They waited the witch on her broom. Far easier to shoot her down than hunting bird. Soldiers were shuffling into positions where they seemed to fit. Unorganised but not quite standing out in the open. Acillio's company were ready, and he only now looked around to see what was going on with the rest of the mercenary companies. "What the hell are they doing?" he asked Daemon, "They just flipped the tables in our favour."
 
Esmeralda blinked from her inner thoughts, the march a sort of meditation for her. Left, right, left, right, le- Walking had always soothed her. It was because of this that she had felt the disturbances through the land a moment before the others. The woman abruptly tensed and stopped short, her eyes hardening as she- Acillio called out, confirming what she had sensed.

Chaos erupted.

Esmeralda dropped to her knees, tugging her gloves off with her teeth. She slammed her palms into the ground, closing her eyes and going still. She was unmoving as orders echoed around her, her world muffling out as she narrowed into a focus.

The enemies arrows came whistling towards them. People braced behind shields in preparation ... but the dreaded cadence of thuds never arrived. Esmeralda gritted her teeth as her summoned shield absorbed most of the impact. Above the heads of the group, in the shape of a dome, an invisible shield held firm. Electricity shot out like bolts of lighting around each place of impact, revealing its vague shape and size. The blanket of arrows remained floating harmlessly above them. One last arrow flew belatedly towards their far left and embedded in.

Esmeralda released the magic with a groan, giving their own archers a chance to fire back. She keeled a face first into the grass, panting as she shakily touched at something under her shirt. She sat back up, looking stronger, yet pale.
 
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Alona's eyes passed over the field ahead of them, about to answer Acillio Nazzaro and Daemon Vorell, when the fortress ahead of them began to attack them.

People in a fortress left the protection of the walls to attack an army in the field.

"What the hell are they doing?" he asked Daemon, "They just flipped the tables in our favour."

"Small favors from inexperienced commanders." She replied, putting her helmet on her head with a skilled set of twists to secure it.

She moved quickly over to her mare, tightening the saddle with deft hands, then slipping up into the saddle.

"Let's see if we can organize while they give us an opening..." She called to Acillio and those nearby. Then she stood in her stirrups and pointed her blade at a group of pikemen a little further down the field.

"Pikes to the front, double file in front of the archers! Keep their horse and foot away from our archers!" She turned and looked at the small unit of horsemen that were forming up. They looked like they were going to ride out and attack the flank. As they were dressed in lighter armor, it was their best use, so Alona left them to it. She looked to Daemon, Thren, Esmeralda, Thorn, and Acillio.

"They're disorganised, but we need to be able to push on their right front when those horsemen hit that flank. If we can crush it, we should be able to roll them up while they are still trying to get through the pikes."
 
Anna gave a sorrowful cry and muttered "Run faster you fools..." Atop her broom stick she used a dagger from within her robe to pierce one slow slave bellow her, The life taken gave her the ability to cast forth a rather large fireball from her hands. The fireball was blue showcasing how how hot and dangerous it was and with a flick of her wrist the large fireball went sailing towards her opponents.

Anna knew her plan was reckless and she had a high chance of dying flying on her broomstick like this but she knew when she saw the arrows freeze in the air another spell caster was in the battle and that is when she knew that she must capture the person or get them to come with her.

Anna shrieked at the enemy "If you defect I will pay you twice as much as what the government is!" The witch was thinking of spells to turn the mercenaries against each other even as she practically begged them to
 
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Daemon offered little more than a nod to his new comrades before he jumped into the action. Thankfully he still had a mind for it, seeing as it had been spared the rain of arrows.

"You heard the woman you sorry sacks of shit! If you've got a polearm, you're on the line!" He ordered in tune with Alona's command. He too had thrown his plate helmet over his head and fastened its chin strap to keep it secure in the battle to come. The edge of his sword sounded with that satisfying steel against leather when he pulled it from it's scabbard.

The fight had come earlier than they'd expected, but Acillio Nazzaro was right, the bandit force had actually abandoned the only advantage they held. In open field battle, it was likely a solid formation and a single sweep of the hammer against anvil would win the day.

"You! Get off your your sorry ass and get those men on the line!" Daemon bellowed once more, his hand coming to grip the collar of a much taller man. For a moment the other mercenary stared at him as though he might just kill him, but he knew Daemon was right.

In only a few more seconds the first line had formed to hold back against the incoming vanguard of the enemy force. As the second line filed in behind them, the mismatched heads of their long spears, pikes, or other similar weapons glistened in the lighting. Luckily enough for the archers still yet to assemble, the use of formation had saved them more time.

In the last second before the true battle had begun the men and women more than likely to lose their lives had unleashed a war cry. As the screaming had erupted when the two forces met, so did the sounds of weapons clattering against one another. Horses whined and came thundering down to the ground as both them and their riders were impaled by sharpened weapons.

As for the encroaching infantry, they clambered their way over the first line of the dead and met the front line with a level of disparity and savagery no one was prepared for. It was no doubt an effect of their current leadership. Fear was one of many motivators.

When the footpads had met with the men Daemon commanded on the front line, he dove sword first into the fray. The tip of his sword caught the jagged crescent blade of an axe, and by the use of his upper body strength he swung the weapon to the side. As the man before him was left exposed, he slashed the edge of his blade across his abdomen. When his oddly colored innards spilled out onto the ground the bandit screamed in agony and horror.

Daemon swiftly finished him off and turned to face Alona Hawse, Thren, Esmeralda, Thorn, Acillio Nazzaro, and all the mercenaries. "Come on! This is your chance!" He called out to them, waving an arm in the direction of a flank maneuver.

With nothing more he turned back to the battle and faced off with another opponent, war cries and screams erupting when their swords came clashing.

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Thorn was a scout by nature, Geron soared far above his head well out of arrow range and the woodsman kept off the fighting line to the flank of the battle as it broke out. From the clouds the buzzard could be of use, helping him be aware of the movements of the enemy. With his bond-bird watching the ranger could keep an eye out for any forces the Bandits had sent out to flank or encircle the mercenary forces, their bond allowing them to share senses when they wanted to. "Yeah, yeah." He muttered in response to the others taking charge of the battle. They were smart, they knew their stuff and what needed to be done, but they didn't know him or what he was. He wasn't the type to get in the thick of it in pitched battle where shields and pikes clashed, but he knew what he was.

Around him were a few others who fancied themselves scouts or skirmishers, all with bows and light gear much like Thorn himself. Some of them raised an eyebrow at the concept of being paid more, especially liking the idea of sitting back and watching to see which side had the better chances of paying them off. The ranger nocked an arrow, "Please. Its as empty as her coin purse." He spat, they'd already seen her use her minions as cattle to fuel her magic, which at least meant she was the greater evil in question, no more doubts about that. "She can't pay these welps and that's why they got sent on a suicide mission outside the protection of the walls. She's clearing out those she can't afford using us to get rid of them or killing them herself to fuel her spells."

At this, they all seemed to nod, the logic was there even if it wasn't necessarily true. As for Thorn, he was pretty certain that was the only logical explanation for the bandits' actions. Disorganized and spurred on by the promise of extra coin that didn't exist. He'd seen it before, especially from Blight Orcs from the far north. When funds ran out, they'd send out the worst of their lot on a suicide mission to conserve money. Sometimes they'd even loot their own to pay the rest. It seemed as likely a reason any death mage would have as any other.

"Aim for the officers, stick over here out of arrow range from the castle. Fade off towards the line if anything serious gets sent our way." He pulled the string back, putting his thumb to his nose. Soft muttering from under his breath could be heard, unintelligible to those around him. Sighting down the arrow shaft, the ranger let loose his arrow in an arc, the string making the distinct twang as it launched the missile on its journey. The arrow whistled into the chest of a bandit attempting to direct some of his comrades towards the flanking mercenaries. The bandit officer slumped to the ground, no longer giving out the advice to the others.

That was the game today. Kill anyone who looked like they knew what they were doing. Thorn nocked another arrow, looking for a new bandit trying to shout orders.

 
"Just go," Esmeralda said to those addressing her. She remained in the back line, away from the fights. "I'll deal with the bitch." Er, she meant witch, not- oh, who was she kidding. That bitch just hurled a fireball at them!

Esmeralda stood up, her face pinching in determination. A fireball that size and that hot told Esmeralda that the witch had spilt blood to cast a spell that strong. That was dark magic, darker than her own questionable methods. But it was those questionable methods that might just save her ass here. The witch stole life to grant herself strength. Esmeralda played a little different. She stole energy itself.

Naturally, what Esmeralda did was insanely dangerous. Regardless, the unwitting witch had just handed Esmeralda all the power she needed to destroy her.

Esmeralda held out her hand. The fireball began to rapidly break down, tendrils of light sucking out of it and flying across the field, The light connected into Esmeralda's palm, a shock wave erupting around her. The burst of magic burned through her and Esmeralda couldn't help but to scream. Her body became nothing more than circuit rerouting the magic and storing it in a place out of sight.


In the matter of seconds the fireball was upon the crew, but it was a simple matter for Esmeralda to use the energy she had stolen from the flames and deflect the dying red mass away.

Kinetic energy buzzed off the woman like static electricity; her hair stood up straight around her like a deranged halo. Esmeralda merely clenched her fist, trying to summon the broom out from under the witch and test exactly what else she was capable of.
 
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"Come on! This is your chance!"

Alona nodded, and took one last look around the field. Everything was as good as the assembled soldiers and mercenaries could do in the quick time they had. The polearms looked solid, and the front line was pushing where their small cavalry force was about to hit the flank.

Alona wasn't the titular commander, she was hired to fight. She'd done what she could for the larger force, and now needed to ply her blade.

"Let's go, Kialo." She told her mare, and turned toward the edge of the flanking maneuver. She rode behind their line for a moment, then turned away to give herself room. When she had the room, she took up Hearth's Edge, took one more deep breath, and pushed her mare into a charge.

The thunder of Kialo's hooves were drowned out by the larger battle. Alona leaned forward, keeping her balance centered to make the charge easier for the mare, with her blade held up and back. Attaching with a sword from horse back is little different than scything wheat. There isn't much gamesmanship in melee like their is in a duel, but it still took skill to know when the best time to strike was.

Kialo plowed through the very front of the enemy line, knocking one bandit down under her hooves, and pushing two others away. Alona, pulled back on the reins only lightly, but it was all the signal the mare needed to know what to do. Alona struck forward, caving in the side of one bandits head with her blade, and knocking him into another. At the same time, Kialo pulled up her front hooves and struck out with them, knocking back a couple of men that had gathered before them. Kialo came down on the head of one of them, ending one more bandit.

Alona struck right and left, her blade flashing in the sun with each attack, as if the blood refused to stick to it.

Slice left.

Slice right.

Kialo up and kicks forward.

Slice left.

Kialo turns slightly, and kicks backward, hitting a bandit that was focused on the front line of the mercenary forces.

Slice right.

Slowly, they pushed into the melee. Alona did her best to make sure she didn't get stuck, and the hit and run tactics of their other cavalry aided that.

 
Acillio was lost in the chaos. He couldn't see Alona or Daemon. He was with his men, shielding themselves with the overturned wagon. The stakes in the ground gave some respite but the enemy were tried to get past the stakes and over the wagon. As the first line of enemy infantry clambered over the wagon the arbalists let loose their bolts. A half dozen men went down. As they reloaded, Acillio's infantry stepped forward and with bloodlust they hacked into those trying to get past the barricade.

Blood sprayed the day. Those with Acillio quickly became drenched as their wagon became not just an obstacle for the enemy but a killing floor. There was no way around it for the pikemen would easily gut them if they tried. Acillio coughed and spat, his arm growing heavy with each swing of his blade. There was no finesse or skill here. It was a slaughter. His eyes danced across the scene, looking for each new target.
 
(I haven't read anything since my last post, so imagine trying to catch up!)

Taurus had never fought before. Although she figured that she'd end up doing just so when deciding to come here, she didn't know how...graphic everything would be. She wasn't exactly terrified at the sight of blood but the fact that she was seeing it was awful enough. The red substance was supposed to stay inside one's body, not come shooting out like someone had poked a dozen holes in a wine barrel. But it was to be expected and she couldn't complain, unless she wanted to switch places with the enemy.

After speaking out a long while ago, Taurus had decided to remain silent. The man who'd she spoken to didn't seem to like her talking to him, so she chose not to talk again, embarrassed. The other man(Thorn) seemed to understand that she was just trying to help. She would've helped him but she had a lot of things to carry, now upset with herself that she didn't pack less, and she wasn't sure how she could help them when they weren't even at battle. So Taurus just made a dumb excuse about having something she needed to do and walked by herself, thinking.

Now she was in the middle of battle, well, not literally or she'd probably have died hours ago. But all around her people were fighting, screaming, dying, and sometimes even talking, though she would've saved every breath that she could if she were swinging swords and casting hexes on people. No, Taurus was hiding. Not in the ultimate coward way, but in the 'I need to keep myself alive so I can keep other people alive with my healing and minor defense skills' way.

There seemed to be a woman in the enemy's army that claimed that she'd pay everyone money if they'd surrender. Taurus just shook her head, it was a weak tactic. Almost nobody would believe that, not even a newborn, but maybe the woman had sensed their lack of organization and figured that it would affect some people. Luckily Taurus wasn't there for the money, although she was sure she wouldn't have joined the witch anyway.

Taurus hid behind a natural barrier of trees, rocks, and some discarded wagons and other items from her crew and maybe the bandits. Any fallen members she take in, trying to help them by bandaging their wounds and providing them with weapons others collected from the battlefield. The noise was great and filled her ears, something before she could only imagine in books and late night conversations. Nothing compared to the real thing, nothing at all. And it was both amazing and terrible at the same time.

The few times where Taurus was able to focus on the fighting with her eye, she mostly caught sight of three people, two men and a women. One of the men was the one who'd had asked her to lend a hand and was shooting arrows through the sky so gracefully(Thorn) , another was a gruff looking guy who always looked pissed off at someone and was slaughtering away(Acillio Nazzaro), and the women, who had short hair and a determined face(Alona Hawse), was fighting just like Taurus often dreamt of herself fighting like when she was younger. They were amazing in their own ways, everyone really, but she knew that she played an important part herself, helping those who'd fallen or just needed a little defense. She tried her best to use as little magic as possible but in helpful ways, since she knew that it could do the opposite of the goal if one was careless.

For now, Taurus remained at her chosen station of just off the battlefield. If anyone needed aid they could join her and the other healers and defenders.
 
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Chaos seemed to explode.

The battle had broken out in a sudden surge that Thren had never expected. The Bandits had been holed up within a Fortress, attacking outside of it seemed...almost insane.

Were they hiding something? Were they trying to hold back? The Barbarian didn't understand, it didn't seem to make any sense. Yet he was in the middle of it all, the middle of the melee. His Hound, Larik, thrashed and pounced on the nearest of the bandits, tearing them apart and ripping into their flesh.

The Barbarian hardly had time to breath,

Each time his dagger cut into the throat of one bandit another seemed to pop up to meet him. It was an almost sludge of enemies, each of them seeming to come from absolutely nowhere. Blood spilled over his fingers and coated his armor, the bandits screaming as he cut them down. "The Fortress!"

Thren called out to anyone nearby.

"The Gates are open!" He was no commander, no leader, but he knew what would end this. "Get inside!"

If they could cut through...if they could make it...
 
The summoned broom came wooshing towards Esmeralda at a frightened speed, forcing her to duck to avoid impact. The fate of the witch was lost to her as one of the many bandits somehow pushed in deep enough to be in her face, lifting his sword to dispatch of her.

She narrowed her eyes. His clothing erupted into flames. As he yelled in shock, she jumped up and stabbed him through the gut with her short sword, which she had drawn seamlessly from its sheath. She kicked him back, her sword dripping with blood as she looked up to Thren's call for them to push into the gates.

Esmeralda looked over her shoulder, spotting the healer half masked by trees. "Leave them," Esmeralda called out to Tarus. "We have to keep pushing inwards." And she couldn't protect the girl if the girl stayed here. Not that protecting one girl was her job. She was meant to deal with mages. Still, if the healer was lost, then that task would fall to her so...

Esmeralda gestured impatiently for the girl heed her.

Thren | Taurus Heallion
 
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Behind Alona Hawse rode a large man on a white and well muscled charger. He wore no helm and his gold hair streamed behind him like a dawn pennant. Before battle began, some might have remarked him as a boisterous fellow and quite odd, talking to the commoners at the rear of the train though he looked to be a knight of birth most noble.

Though good humor now gone, he retained a fiercesome grin as he laid about him with his sword. His white tabard quickly became splashed with red and his chain maille gleamed wetly about the sword arm.

With every smiting blow did he cry “Urahil! Urahil!” In a voice like distant thunder.
 
There was a crash of thunder in the distance and the sound of beating wings. Apparently the sounds of battle had carried to the heavens and awakened the storm, which in its fury had sent its herald.
Or something like that.
Well, it would have seemed that way, except the beast flew straight over the battlefield without really doing anything. It did not descend from just below the clouds, did not breathe any fire or lightning, and did not make much further noise except for its wings beating. In fact, it likely would have not been noticed by some of the fighters who were more deeply engaged in conflict. Unfortunately, though, it appeared one of the archers also did not notice, and a stray arrow embedded itself into the dragon's scales with a soft thud.
It continued flying for a few moments, as if it took a bit of time to register the prick. But then its head turned sharply in the direction of the bandit archers, and it made a slow and ominous turn back towards the battle, and began to descend.
With unbecoming speed, the beast made a power dive at the bandits' backline.
His attacks were swift and brutal; the bandit archers were poorly equipped to fight him in melee, and he dismembered a number of them before they began to mount their counterattack.
But the dragon ravaging their ranks likely did not go unnoticed.
 
"Gods above this bloody battle will be chronicled for the ages..." Daemon whispered to himself as chaos rolled further into the simply inconceivable.

The battle had been swift so far, and with a now mystical beast usually bound to the likes of folktale and myth so profoundly shattering it's chains and entering the fold the bandits were sure to crumble soon enough. Daemon himself was spattered from toe to top with the many paints of war.

His boots and legs were plastered with a soon-to-be dry coat of dirt and reddened muck. Similarly, his once respectable armor had lost any of it's dim shine beneath the slick layer of blood and bits of entrails now patterned across it's surfaces. Daemon was hardly recognizable.

Another fighter approached, perhaps the sixteenth, or maybe the twenty-third , everything had become a blurred haze of blood and gore.

"Rrraahh!!!" He had roared ferociously as his two-handed axe swung a full extension towards Daemon's head.

Completely unprepared for the sheer wildness to the blow, the mercenary was sent cascading into the upturned battlefield of footprints, bodies, discarded weapons, and whatever else the battlefield might hold. His own helmet was torn from it's fastening chin strap and sent clattering against a lost shield.

Daemon groaned weakly as he crawled for his hands and knees, another warcry bellowing from the axe-man now closing in. There was little time. With the last of his natural adrenaline still coursing through his veins he scrambled forwards and spun to his feet. The axe that had came chopping for his backside found it's edge embedded into the earth. By some god's grace, the weapon appeared stuck.

"Gahhh!!" Daemon had yelled as he charged at the man, his sword swinging upwards and cutting the man deep across his chest. The leather of the bandit's jerkin tore easily at the bloodied edge of the mercenary's sword, and his chest was promptly slashed open.

He stumbled back gasping for air, his axe's grip slipping from his hands as he collapsed into the mud to live his last moments.

Another drop of adrenaline managed to be squeezed into Daemon's bloodstream as the call to charge the fortress was given. The man who had given the command was unseen, but the voice was distinct against the rest. In order to see to it the command was heeded, Daemon simply had to echo it.

"Keep pushing, lads! To the fortress gates! No mercy!" Daemon had shouted, his own voice long having lost it's smoothness.

A single break in the battle found Daemon looking to the few faces he managed to familiarize himself with before the battle.

Thren fought heroically against an endless tide of warriors, each dispatched swifter than the last.

Esmeralda, the woman who had fiercely met the enemy with her own hand of magic, stood expectantly for Taurus Heallion. The healer was hard at work trying to mend together what remained of wounded men and women.

Alona Hawse, Godfrey Urahil, and many other riders, stampeded the routing enemy lines much like warriors of legend. Those that stood before their onslaught were cut down like wheat to a scythe.

Acillio Nazzaro stood at the head of his small company, their numbers strong but few, battling relentlessly against the enemies main line.

Thorn had managed to gather a small band of rangers, each of them posted within the length of the surrounding treeline to obey his command. Countless officers who had tried to rally the bandit force were promptly delivered to the void of death by the all too merciless bite of their arrows.

Though this break had it's end, and similarly this battle did too -- or so Daemon hoped. One of the men heeding Thren's call bumped into him on his rush for the fortress gates. "Come on!" The man had shouted. "We can do this!"

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Chaos.

This was chaos. It was battle. It was war, and it was liberating. A roar pulled passed his lips, a sounding echo that seemed to drown out everything else around him. His daggers flicked forward, cutting through the throat of a man standing nearby and barring his way.

The bandit toppled to the floor, falling onto the ground with a thump muted by the chaos around them. Thren gave him no second thought, his motives clear.

He followed his own call, the tide of battle turning as he rushed forward with a half dozen of his felloe mercenaries. He paid no mind to anyone or anything else, his gaze focused upon the gates just ahead of him. His fingers wrapped tight around the daggers, his lips thinned, and the Fortress came into full view.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw...something, though his mind struggled to think of what it was.

Instead he pushed forward, meeting a new wave of bandits at the gates of the fortress alongside Daemon Vorell.

Esmeralda | Alona Hawse | @Godfrey Urahil | Acillio Nazzaro | Thorn | Livyatan the Tempest
 
Esmeralda made an impatient noise and took off whether the healer would heed her call or not. She ran fast, her footsteps light. Her sword was sheathed and a metal whip was unwrapped from her wrist, it's end pulled out of the clasp to reveal a very lethal, heavy point. The whip cracked loud in the air as she snapped it, a blue fire erupting along it's length as she charged it with several magical properties.

She fought through enemies with her magic and whip alike, the metal weapon cutting through armor in a way no sword could. Any non-mage would find it a hard task to break through her defenses before she disposed of them, moving quickly.

Careless witch. She had given Esmeralda the energy she needed to become a rather frightening force. Well. Until it ran out.

Daemon Vorell would feel a sudden rush of energy burst into him as Esmeralda brushed past him, the blond-headed mage glancing back to give him a knowing smile before she pushed on wards. The same gift of renewed energy was imparted to each of those she managed to touch-- Alona Hawse , Thren , even the beast Thronebreaker rode on got a small burst of energy as she ducked past, trying to boister the men with what magic she could spare to part with.

Acillio, the ox abuser, got no such thing from her.

Esmeralda stopped short as she pulled up to the front line, gasping at the sight of a dragon rolling in. The small bit of strength she was imparting to Thren and Alona Hawse withdrew, her flaming whip dimming for a moment.

"No one told us they had a dragon," she practically hissed. The flame picked back up. Esmeralda ducked an attack and screamed in an enemies face as she slashed her whip across their bare head, the helmet already lost.

Wait. Was the dragon ... helping them? She turned, straining to see.
 
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