Open Chronicles Rumors of War

[Gerra]

"You are the king of Alcazar, beholden to the god of light. Do not seek the help of these heathens from across the river."

"What would you have me do, red priest," said Andal II as he ran fingers through his dark beard and stared from a window of his keep upon the forces assembling below him. "Corsairs from Cerak have not stopped at ravaging our coast, but have pushed inward burning towns as they go. I do not have the soldiers to hold back both the corsairs and Torleon. Nor does Torleon, but they are blind in their rivalry of me.... And they have the support of two other kings. The Radiant Church has been of little help in solving our dispute, Sancho."

He glanced sidelong at the priest, who in turn stared at the floor in shame and said nothing.

"Your masters are greedy. Let me guess, there is some arrangement to give up a percentage of my lands to the sun god when Alcazar is taken? No, do not feel the need to answer. I know what is spoken of in the dark stone corridors. They have left me no other choice."

"Sire, a foreign army has not crossed the twin rivers in decades. Please do-"

"It is already done, Sancho. The vanguard of Amol-Kalit crossed the Sleeping Sister this morning. They will be here by mid-day."

* * *​

Upon the Cortosi plains south of the Sister marched an Imperial host made up of many disparate warriors: hundreds of mounted Abtati archers, girded in golden armor of finest make from the spoils of their recent Kaliti conquest; blue orcs from Kherkhana wielding their mighty horse-slaying swords; at least a dozen elephant riders and many lion-shaped Ngonya beastmen from the Savanna; and thousands of Kaliti foot soldiers from the Seven Cities.

At their head, riding in a chariot, was Gerra himself.

 

[Ormr]

Cortosi Plains

The Half-Giant knelt upon the rise of a plateau overlooking the plains below. From this vantage point the soldiers of the Imperial host appeared as ants, marching in their thousands.

It was as usual, Ormr was drawn to places of potential conflict. In his chest his heart beat calmly, the calm before the storm. His gaze while cast out across the entire host from where he knelt down seemed particularly drawn to the Elephants, Ormr had never seen these warbeasts until now.

Lifting a hand he rubbed thick, calloused fingers across the underside of his jaw as he pondered.

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

Northeast of Gerra's army rode thirty Lazulari light cavalry and one blood mage. The horse warriors fanned out as a broad, diffuse veil of scouts and skirmishers to guard the army's left flank.

Mirielle — the blood mage in question — moved forward in their wake. Ten murderers' blood smeared Mirielle's arms to the elbow. She'd made excessive sacrifice to the Serpent Gods. Whether they would see fit to bless her in return was, as ever, an open question. Thus far they offered no concrete visions when she paused to pour water in a scrying bowl.

The well-bred, battle-tested Lazulari mare surged forward eagerly, and Mirielle went along.

 

[Ashuanar]

His eyes were so biased by the beauty he saw in the sands that these lands, to him, seemed so dreary. A woeful eye cast one way, and then the other. It was not as though he was a stranger to other lands, or particularly worried of the journey ahead, but there was a jewel set amidst those sands they left behind that had since captivated far more than his eye, and it was that which he longed for. That which he missed.

It was strange. He had never felt such a way, never been so distracted.

He wondered how he might have fared back in those earliest days, staving off waves of the vile dead and climbing onto the backs of their dragons, were he so preoccupied.

A gentle shake of his head, and a deep breath. With clarity now he looked onward.

The Imperial Army marched forward with great purpose. There was resolve in their step which roared out in the thunder under their feet. Their god headed their army. What trouble would cause them to fail? Only by some wicked curse would another event like the god-dragon's appearance ever take place again, so what else could best them? What else could stand against their might?

The confidence in their faith was admirable to the Vizier, but then again, not all had seen as he had seen. But he dare not say what dwelt upon his mind, lest it cause division. And besides, what a marvelous tool: blind faith. As for the Vizier, Ashuanar commanded the right flank, which he headed with scores of his Sipahi, armed with spears, robed in white. Behind them, mounted archers and cavalry, as well as infantry. The larger beasts were none of his concern. Neither the orcs, or the beast-men. They followed only Gerra.

But, didn't they all?

---

Gerra | Ormr | Mirielle Merlon ​

 

[Kjaran Mak Aodha]

It was said that two things were always certain in Cortos, war and taxes.

The city-states along the coast and interior thrived on trade and commerce but their fractious nature meant violence was never far away. Every city-state had its small standing army which was swelled in wartime with the militia callups and the coffers being opened to hire mercenaries en masse.

The only time the city-states came anything close to setting aside their differences was when a foreign enemy intervened. Vel Anir in the Quatreville Wars, the last ending over a decade ago. Amol-Kalit when the last great attack a generation before had crossed the Baal-Asha. Fire forged friendship and allegiances, all forgotten a week later when Cortosi pride and fury took over.

Not that studies of Cortosi psychology or politics mattered much to Kjaran. He just knew that the region offered plentiful employment, especially when neighbours turned to such deplorable practices as peacemaking or realmbuilding. Amol-Kalit had been just as handy for work but its bloody conversion to an empire had reduced inter-kingdom strife accordingly. Vel Anir was apparently a republic these days. But Cortos was still Cortos.

Three city-states had united to tackle Alcazar, Torleon had succeeded in dragging two allies to her cause for once in an emnity that went back centuries. Alcazar was strong but not enough to tackle three smaller opponents, especially when beset by raiders, pirates, and more. Sancho had kept his troops close to his city so far, seeming to prefer bracing for a siege rather than pitched battle despite the protests of his knights.

Pikes and crossbows, the backbone of any Cortosi force. The nobles preferred to fight on horseback, even the merchants could afford a steed and armour but the majority marched, shouldering a pike or halberd or else hefting a crossbow. It wasn't glamorous, it wasn't fast, but it'd kept most foreign powers out of Cortos.

Kjaran flung his dice irritably, wondering if he could count wool socks as a wager on his next throw. He was saved by the drums beating and horns blowing. An exhausted outrider had shown up at the camp, his horse on the point of collapse. He'd managed to gasp out one word before giving into unconsciousness.

Kaliti.

 

[Gerra]

"Kaliti? Here?" King Ramos of Torleon scowled as he stalked through the camp after hearing the news from the outrider.

His retinue followed behind him like a train of ants.

He hadn't fought the Kaliti in well...

Never?

At least they did not equal the united forces of the three kings marching on Alcazar. Not by the scout's estimates at least.

But elephants? What were they supposed to do with elephants?

Well, they had many mercenaries in their companies. Maybe...

He turned to a retainer, "Find soldiers who have dealt with them before and give them some men."

Kjaran Mak Aodha

* * *

Meanwhile, the Kaliti forces marched onward, a dust cloud blossoming in their wake.

He looked to his left and saw the light horse of Lazular led by Mirielle Merlon, then to his right and glimpsed the gleaming cataphracts of Ashuanar.

Something stirred the ash in his soul. A flicker of emotion as he gazed flatly upon the land, dust in his eyes and caking his gilded armor of chain and plate. Did he see something in the distance?

Ormr

 

[Ormr]

Spearmen. Light Cavalry. Horse Archers. Chariots. The Warbeasts he would later come to know were called Elephants.

The Half Giant could appreciate the vast army that spread out across the the Cortosi Plains from his vantage point. In the coming battle the carnage and bloodshed would likely be monumental. He hadn't seen the army that the Cortosi Lords had assembled yet but Ormr would have been disappointed if it were any less impressive. A one sided battle was nothing to celebrate.

When he finally stood his massive frame revealed itself at a distance, a scout might have seen him if he were looking up at the plateau but this was inconsequential to him. Heavy northern furs covered the majority of his frame, hides taken from monstrous beasts which were fashioned into an assortment of garb. The hilt of an enormous sword, two handed for anything less than a Half Giant if they could wield it at all was seen from where it was concealed sheathed over his back. He held a Spear in his right hand, thick fingers curled around a wooden shaft carved from the thickest oaken branch that was the length of a pike.

As he scanned the army his gaze set upon the chariot at its fore, the figure riding there larger than many of those at its back. At a glance they might be kin, distant cousins with a similar heritage at their core.

Ormr lazily turned so that he could trudge along the plateau, waiting for the time when battle would commence. Until then his hunger would hold itself in check.

---

Mirielle Merlon | Ashuanar | Gerra | Kjaran Mak Aodha​

 

[Kara Orin]

Kara stood some distance from the edge of the plateau. She silently waited as Ormr observed the Empire's army. Her desert cloak wisped in the wind.

Not too long ago, Kara found a way to inform Ormr of interesting developments at the Empire. Something that would satiate the battle junkie giant.

"I hope the sight was as advertised," Kara said to Ormr.

 

[Hanuman]

Tall and pale, a web of wrinkles from a toothy grin.

Hanuman plus fifty-one; hyena-faced men, a small company of hedge knights, and wretched cut-throats and marauders stood overlooking the plains.

A girl, beak-nosed binoclard, and curly-haired mercenary stood closest to the warmonger.

With his favored left rear arm, Hanuman pointed to the Kaliti horde and said: "A smaller force, yet no less fierce." Then, slowly across the plains to the massive camp near Alcazar. "Encamped, the army of cities united."

"Cerak raiders approach from the coast, Warchief," said the handsome mercenary.

"What shall we burn, O pupil of mine?"

Visha Sofka

 

[Kjaran Mak Aodha]

The tercio pushed out from the Torleon camp with all the speed of a glacier. In full marching order, it resembled a moving castle with the vast central square of pikemen and bastions of crossbows and halberds at each corner. The wind flapped the banners in the breeze as it began the ponderous march westward towards the last known position of the Kaliti force.

Infantry were never noted for speed but they moved even slower in battle order. There were enough veterans amongst the officers who'd fought Kaliti before. They knew how quick their horse could move, how even their infantry would swarm like locusts. Better to move slow than be caught unprepared.

Cavalry trotted at the wings or cantered on ahead, a mix of the merchant guard or nobles out to win their spurs. More seasoned outriders tried to rein them in but the young bloods were fired up for a fight.

"They'll charge right into a spear wall if their mounts would let them" Kjaran spat. He tramped along in the second rank, sword slung while he hefted a pike. Now and then he risked a longing look back to the security of the centre where a section of tough looking NCOs and veterans hefted halberds, zweihanders, and other wicked looking weapons. The ensign holding the colours looked out of place, as did the handful of mages forced to slog along.

Whoops from the front made his head shoot back. A troop of the cavalry had sighted the Kaliti scouts. Thy didn't even wait for orders, they just went right for them.

 

[Ormr]

The Half Giant ceased his movement when he saw the slow moving Cortosi host appear in opposition of the Empires. He remained silent, his eyes narrowed as though he were in some sort of thought but he was not disappointed.

When he heard his 'benefactor' speak he'd have turned his head to regard her where she stood further back from the edge of the plateau...

"Your word was true, Orin."

...he replied to her in a deep voice that would resound briefly as he spoke the words then he'd turn his head back towards the impending battle. It was not long before he saw a troop of the Cortosi Cavalry charging out to engage the scouts of Amol-Kalit.

Eogorath was pleased, Ormr would fight but nothing in this world was free. Without looking back at Kara Orin he would have grunted...

"You have a preference as to the winner of this battle?"

 

[Dianaimh Ui Muirgheal]

Dianaimh cursed.

Not for the first time she wondered what had made her involve herself in a provincial dispute between rival principalities, kingdoms, and republics in Cortos. It said little for the glamour of magery when one found oneself plying their trade like a common mercenary. A profession she ranked lower than prostitutes, spies, and even solicitors.

She focused on the anger and grumpiness because it was better than letting fear seep in. She'd seen enough battles over the years to count herself lucky when she didn't have to be in one. Battle magic was especially tricky and she remembered the lecture well from her brief fellowship at Elbion.

"Battle magic is difficult," said the professor as he walked through the aisle, a solid clunk on every second step from his wooden leg. "Magician has a trick. Another wizard counters the first trick. Third sorcerer counters the second. Fourth witch tries to help the second. They are all standing around trying to best one another and the army comes along and the army chops them up. Very dangerous and not many magicians willing to try"

Of course the common soldiery wouldn't see it that way. Normally a battle with mages on both sides was quite boring to start with while an invisible fight raged with spells and counterspells being fired all over the place. The first thing they'd know about it is when one side lost because suddenly it would be the nine hells breaking loose and magical artillery blasting holes in the ranks.

She knew they'd heard stories because in the centre of the hollow square the nearest soldier to her was half a dozen paces away, as if she was a pariah. Oh don't worry boys and girls, anything strong enough to take me out will probably take a score of you with me too.

Whoops from the front and she saw a disorganised charge as young noblemen and merchants spurred their steeds forward, riding more as if to the hunt than war. She wasn't a general but even she knew that wasn't bright. Kaliti, she'd never liked it there, far too hot. And their schools of magic...quite bizarre.

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

Whoops from the front made his head shoot back. A troop of the cavalry had sighted the Kaliti scouts. Thy didn't even wait for orders, they just went right for them.

POSITION: ADVANCE LEFT FLANK
OBJECTIVE: LIVE AND LET SCRY

A good ways ahead of Mirielle, Lazular's light cavalry skirmishers began a nimble, shapeless dance with the enemy calvalry. Lazulari troops favored the recurve bow, bodkin arrowheads, and the single-edged sword. Lazular's Emir had worked very, very hard to procure the best steel from Kherkhana in recent years. Tactically, the scout line aimed to never give a cavalry charge anything solid to hit. They'd kite as long as they could, maximizing their skill at horse archery.

Mirielle glanced back at the bulk of Gerra's army — close enough for a retreat if needed — and poured her waterskin into a bowl. Still on horseback, she splashed her bloody fingers in the bowl and the Serpent Gods answered with a clear vision of the battlefield.

The scrying lasted only moments. She tucked the bowl away and kept watching the cavalry engagement ahead.

OOC/ Dianaimh Ui Muirgheal Hanuman I had to kind of approximate where you were; any adjustments, let me know.

 

[Visha Sofka]

Look at all of them down there. Ants! You know what her favorite bugs were? GUESS! That's an easy one, don't get it wrong, or you'll get a glass lens and a face full of focused sunlight too!

Visha rocked back and forth, from the balls of her feet to her heels, swaying her body to and fro in counterbalance, hands and staff behind her back, all this in a very singsong and mischievous manner. A big anticipatory smirk dominated her features. Wide, excited eyes surveyed all of the gathered forces far and below the plateau's edge.

And she got to choose? SHE GOT TO CHOOSE!? Master Hanuman, you fucked up! Wait, no, shhh! What a gift! She loved gifts! Shhh...forget what she thought four sentences ago.

Visha snapped up a finger and held it high. "There's only ONE right answer, and IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII~ have it!"

She giggled. This giggle starting out sweet and slowly becoming sinister. Ooooo...sinister!

"Great Maho would lend his magnificent fire to the Empire, and I will too!" She made a twirling motion with her free hand. "And besides, who even are the Cortosi anyway? Can anyone even spell Cortosi? Ha, I didn't think so! Why bother? They're a bunch of LOSERS! Like the College! What's the name of that city down there, again? PFFFT! Wait, wait, Master, don't even worry about it! No one can even find it on a freakin' MAP! Stupid Cortosi!"

And, quite charmed with herself, Visha held her gut and threw her head back and belted out indulgent laughter.

Hanuman

 

[Douglas Haley]

How long had it been?​

​

Months, years of struggling - his mind floated through them as he grinded on the sword rested on his lap. Beneath his armor laid a thousand sigils of his own design, within his flesh the soul of Drakormir - a Great Old One he had designed to seal away within him, so others may not have the privilege of doing so. At least, that is what he tells himself to sleep.​

​

The reality had not been so simple. He had dreams of grandeur after Elbion, thoughts of ruling, a soul focused on the belief that he was destined to rise to greatness. Somewhere deep within him, he imagined that it was this very dream that drove him to do what he did. Somewhere deeper, he knew it only got worse since Drakormir began to taint his soul.​

​

Weeks of being bed ridden, atrophy of his limbs and mind - it had taken him years to regain some semblence of normality in his life. The Soul was too strong for even his Kavoshian body - but more than that, it had overloaded his sensabilities. Douglas, once a near Master of the Arcane, was brought to little more than a mercenary.​

​

A sword was his only weapon now - as any time he had attempted to use Magic, he could not control it. Two instances he had tried, and the only thing he had to show for it was a dozen of his friends dead and dying. He had become the curse of his people, the very thing they were feared to be - a killer with no control over his own power.​

​

He sighed heavily as he replaced the stone with an oil cloth. Save his sword the trouble for the moment, it didn't need to feel the pain he did.​

​

"Any word from Gerra ?", he said without looking up.​

​

His second in command glanced back from his position near the cliffs edge and simply shook his head. The rest of the army was moving about - but the Band of the Lion remained. Douglas exhaled heavy once more, paused, but went back to it oiling his sword.​

​

Any moment now, and blood would be shed by his men.​

 

[Kjaran Mak Aodha]

Experienced outriders and borderers knew how to fight light cavalry at their own game. The spoilt sons and daughters of Torleon who pranced about in gaudy armour did not. Their lines grew more ragged by the second as they chased after the feigned retreat. They were led one way then the next but always away from the Cortosi infantry and flank screens of friendly cavalry.

Their armour saved most of them but the Lazulari cavalry didn't care. They were just as happy with killing horses as knights or men at arms. Of course it didn't go all their way, the Lazulari had their own hotheads as well. Here and there an over zealous or cocky archer would be caught by whooping Cortosi and hacked down. But the bulk kept discipline, constantly harassing their slower, armoured enemies.

The infantry marched on, the pike square slogging forward with smaller bastions at each corner. The officers there had begun to realise just how over extended the advance screen was and horn blasts summoned them back. Their blood was up though, the cavalrymen were eager for a scrap.

 

[Tinus Damos]

When there was War in Cortosi lands there were sure to be Kels about. This conflict would prove to be no different.

Several companies of Kellish warriors had been hired by Torleon. Their job was to seize the city of Alcazar. Payment had already been made. Conditions agreed upon. The Kel would see their task done no matter what.

The Kel were more mobile and organized than their Cortosi allies when it came to preparing for combat. It was in their blood as well as their craft. Already they were setting themselves up for the siege of the city along the Eastern walls. Shields ready to take the arrows and bolts from those on the wall in hand. Engines of war nearly completed. Large scorpions and trebuchets to strike the walls and buildings beyond. Rams for the gate. Ladders to scale the walls.

They were energetic in their preparations. Energetic and very noisy.

============

Tinus hated tunnels. He very much preferred the open skies. But he had been one of the ones tasked with going under the wall while they made a show of going from above. They weren't looking to sap the walls, which he was glad for. Fire and smoke in tight places was annoying. The heat he was fine with, as a cook he had to be. The coughing he wasn't.

One of their more scholarly fighters had a map in hand at the end of their tunnel. She was looking it over. If calculations were correct they should be positioned to come up inside the city within a block or so of the wall. The same as those in the other tunnels.

Tinus prayed to his ancestors for strength. Their goal was to open the gate and seize the wall. They had hoped some of the defenders would be drawn out to engage the Kels above ground or engage their Cortosi allies and employer. But no such luck. An already difficult task was going to be that much more so. He knew there was about to be many pyres built and many joining their kin in the life beyond. He just needed to make sure their sacrifice was worth it.

===============

Kellish flags were raised high. First one horn and then several blew. Trebuchets just finished already were wheeled into motion and large stones set flying. Bolts the size of young trees loosed with them towards the defenders on the wall.

The assault on the wall had begun.

Kjaran Mak Aodha Gerra Ormr Hanuman Visha Sofka Douglas Haley Mirielle Merlon Dianaimh Ui Muirgheal Kara Orin Ashuanar

 

[Aratus Seldomus]

A single rider, blue cloak and distinct spear, came thundering across. Mercenaries and Imperial Soldiers gave it a wide birth- they knew to avoid the envoy from Thelios. The envoy had been observing for quite some time, and the soldiers of the Empire had grown accustom to the frowning soldier from Thelios.

He rode for a while, before coming to the immediate area of Gerra.

The rider dismounted, bowed respectfully, and fished out an official message from one of his saddlebags.

A beautifully wrapped piece of parchment, embedded with the seal of Thelios. The rider held it out to Gerra's aides, who took it. The rider departed without another word.

The message was simple.

"We will fight. Our soldiers will arrive shortly."

The stories about Athallians keeping things short were true, even in official correspondence.

 

[Mirielle Merlon]

As the Lazulari skirmishers baited and harassed the enemy cavalry, Mirielle faced a stark choice. She'd invested enough sacrifice today that she could bring blood magic to bear on the cavalry in one way or another.

Alternatively, she could scry again.

OBJECTIVE: SCRY ME TO THE MOON​

At a safe distance from the bulk of the violence, she brought her mare to a halt and took out her little silver bowl again. Water from her canteen, dried blood from her fingers, and a whisper to the Serpent Gods produced a new vision. This time she sent it as a vision to Gerra. It would appear in the nearest liquid surface, be that a puddle or a goblet.

 

[Gerra]

The emperor reined in his chariot as a soldier bearing the sigil of Thelios approached. The man passed a scroll to an Imperial aide-de-camp, who passed it to Gerra. He looked from the words scrawled thereon, then to the rider, but the man was already riding away.

The warriors of Thelios flocked to his banner then for this battle... unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. No doubt they sought some of the fabled Cortosi treasure hoards taken from the eastern isles.

At that moment, a strange sensation took a hold of him. He looked down at a puddle near his chariot's left wheel. It must have rained in the night, but was now a clear day.

Within the surface of the water he saw reflected up at him the images of forces moving. His forces. And those of the Cortosi. A thousand foot view of the battlefield.

The presence in his mind felt familiar. His eyes narrowed and he looked toward the Lazulari cavalry. Mirielle?...

Turning to one of his officers, Gerra spoke, his voice an impossibly low and rumbling bass.

"Signal Ashuanar and have him rid us of the Cortosi pursuing the Lazulari, then sound the attack. Mehmed, find Douglas Haley and his Lion Band. There are forces already besieging Alcazar. I need him to pull their attention away from the walls."

The one-eyed Mehmed, one of Gerra's bodyguard known as the Immortals, rode off in the direction of the Band of the Lion.

Meanwhile, the bulk of the Emperor's force turned its attention on the Cortosi vanguard. Kherkhanite line breakers marched to the front, wielding their massive swords. Rank and file Kaliti armed with spears and bows followed. And behind them all lumbered the elephants.

Empire:
Mirielle Merlon | Ashuanar | Douglas Haley
Hanuman | Visha Sofka | Aratus Seldomus

Undecided:
Ormr | Kara Orin

Cortosi:
Kjaran Mak Aodha | Dianaimh Ui Muirgheal | Tinus Damos

 

[Douglas Haley]

Douglas had long since sheathed his sword, posed with a knee up on the nearest rock. Armies began to march, cities began to burn, and here that sat. He doubted, with the sudden activity, that it would be much longer. The dust from the elephant calvary gave him enough mind to know what was to come.​

​

As though on command the one-eyed Mehmed rode up - and wordlessly passed a letter to Douglas's second in command. He nodded, the man rode off once more, and the orders were passed to the Captain General. He eyed them carefully for a few moments before tucking them in his breast plate. His words came without his stare breaking from the distance city - a pillar of smoke rising from it as siege weapons began to take their toll.​

​

"Alcazar is besieged - assault weapons are already in play.", he said with a frown.​

​

"Collect the men, we'll ride to relieve them."​

​

The man behind him nodded, and the troop began to move. It was not a large force - only 500 men, but it was by far enough to draw their attention, enough to cause some damage. In this moment however, Douglas wished his Kavoshian people were with him - so that his 500 may be supported by their excellent status as battle mages.​

​

Instead, all he had was calvary - a mixture of heavy and light, but calvary none the less.​

​

Soon enough, as they'd ride to engage those in his path, a dust trail would mark their advance - and behind it, the black banner of a Golden Lion.​

​

Enemies: Kjaran Mak Aodha // Dianaimh Ui Muirgheal // Tinus Damos​

 

[Lodin Hjornsson]

Lodin is fighting for the Torleons.
Location: Right Flank of the Torleon main force. (Between the pikes and the crossbowmen)


The Empire, the city states of Cortosi, mattered not to the nord mercenary. Only thing that mattered was payment, and King Ramos was picking up the tab for his services which put Lodin on the front lines for Torleon. Truth of it, the promises of payment and a cut of the loot were incentives he accepted as norms of contract. The real prize for Lodin was the violence. He knew what he was. What he was made of. War was in his blood. He didn't kill for his country. He killed for himself for there was nothing else more sweeter than killing. When pushed, killing was easy as breathing for the Nord.

To Lodin's understanding, they were here to lay siege to the walled city before them. Sieges were boring, lots of ditch digging and waiting around for the engineers to make work of the walls. So when they were drummed to formation at the new threat coming over the distant horizon, what was to be a seige now had the promise of open field battle. For a creature of violence, the prospect of near endless bloodshed was exciting.... least to say.

The Nord was now with the main force of the Torleons. He was not given a pike like the rest of the mercenaries and soldiers. Officers knew Lodin was a Nord Berserker and was best just place him where he had clean sight of the enemy to minimize friendly casualties. So, he was placed on the right flank just between the bastion of pikes and the smaller bastion of ranged experts. His grizzled facial features slightly protruded from the open mouth of a lion in a form of a headdress with the rest of its mane and hide drooping off his mighty shoulders like a cape. Lodin's heavily scarred chest was bare and exposed for all to see. Luckily today he decided to wear his dark trousers and boots or he was sure that would of frightened the bowmen next to him more than the enemy if he was all out in the buff screaming and yelling while swinging his large iron cudgel.

Lodin had already ingested the mushrooms and drank his share of mead. He could feel his blood boil, his face swelling and sweat building up as his body physically reacted to the toxins. White foamy froth began to form around his lips and dribble into his short beard while he let off beastly roars that would thunder across the plains. Lodin would chant in his native tongue, invoking the old gods' blessings as he worked himself up into a animistic and furry infused trance. He wasn't a Norden that could actually physically change into a bear, he was a nord. Unblessed by the svalen but still had genetic traits of the ancients. He was not able to change, but he still had bearlike strength and toughness. That mixed with a drug induced rage made him a force to be reckoned with.

 

[Kara Orin]

After hearing Ormr ask his question, Kara walked toward the edge of the plateau to see the gathering armies. Her eyes looked down upon Gerra leading an army to Alcazar. The Emperor messing with Maho’s mind led to a massacre in Elbion College. His use of his rings on Drakormir led to the shattering of her home.

Pointing to the Imperial army, Kara told Ormr, “Molthal’s Son would be your best opponent.”

Then, her eyes glanced down to see the forces under Douglas Haley on the move at the base of the plateau. She then looked back to Ormr.

“The Cortosi could help you reach him,” she said to him.

With a faint smile, she added, “Though I doubt you need or want their help.”

 

[Kjaran Mak Aodha]

The advancing lines of the Empire made for an intimidating sight as they advanced, darkening the horizon with their numbers. Kjaran squinted, able to make out some of the units now. They had their standard levies, Kaliti loved the spear and bow but the orcs with their great weapons were more worrying. It was the same reason there were halberdiers and swordsmen dotted throughout the pikes, anything to help break a push of pike.

Elephants too and the glittering armoured cataphracts. "It must be a good fight, it's attracted all the finest people" he muttered. He held his sword with both hands, taking comfort from its weight. Still, you had to give them credit. The border raiders never lingered too long but here they had the finest of their army coming right at them.

"Check your weapons" an officer, called, struggling to keep the quaver out of his voice. The arbalists could only loose two or three bolts a minute so no one wanted a misfire this early on. The tercio was a mix of the militia callups, mercenaries, and professionals. Both simple weapons and easy to drill some competency into novices. There was comfort too to fighting in a massed formation.

"Won't be long now" he said, more to calm himself than address anyone. The waiting was the worst, at least the Kaliti were polite enough to just come head on at them. Serried ranks too, this was no mob. A lot of people were about to get dead. The cavalry skirmish between the lines was just the beginning.

They kept up that steady march forward and Kjaran swallowed, trying to get rid of the taste of metal in his mouth. The Kaliti weren't slowing either. This was it.

 

[Ormr]

As he surveyed the Imperial Host the Half-Giants gaze seemed to linger on their flank where the largest Warbeasts remained intermingled among Cavalry and rear Infantry. When he Kara Orin pointed out 'Molthal's Son' his eyes were instinctively drawn towards Gerra, riding in his chariot at the head of the army....

"That is a Son of Molthal?"

....he seemed surprised to find a bastard of the Ashen King so far from home and at the head of the Imperial Army, Ormr wasn't one for politics or current events. The Half-Giant would grunt...

"You've a good eye for a Mage."

...and that was all. Ormr stepped forward and soon dropped down from the plateau.

Reaching back as he slid down the face of plateau Ormr would use his left hand to guide his descent, dragging thick, calloused fingers against the dirt and stone and creating an appropriate dust cloud in his wake.

It would just so happen that he'd come to the bottom of the plateau at the rear of Douglas Haley and the Company of the Golden Lion and so could insert himself into the cloud their advance had likewise made. Once he reached the bottom of the plateau he advanced.