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Forces of Iskandar

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Graveyard of Ixmus - Taagi Baara Steppes



Of all the places to be sent by their Lord the forces of House Iskandar, disciplined though they were, were stoically displeased with the choice of deployment. The dead did not rest easy here. Bones would be shattered apart, flung into the winds, only to reform among the ancient detritus and come at their lines again and again and again. Thankfully the House Iskandar had sent among their number countless druids and their acolytes to stoke the land just outside the Graveyard, letting food and wood grow in abundance to keep them well supplied.

Palisade walls, encampments and several mercenary bands had been brought onto the expedition to provide a spearhead for the assault, as well as ablative bodies and losses to be able to be sustained without directly costing the House, and among the half-dozen companies hired on to this expedition were the Bruderschaft des Großschwerts. Who were the next group to be deployed.

Word would quickly circulate among the ranks, down to every soldier, every mercenary, every sellsword and bounty hunter in attendance that the Lord Iskandar had offered them the ludicrous sum they had for the retrieval of some arcane grimoire known as the "Tome of Eternity". Rumored to dwell within the Ixmus for uncounted centuries the tome's exact contents were a secret but it was, certainly, well-guarded.

As the Bruderschaft busied themselves with preparations for deployment the Commander of the expedition, a minor noble of the House Iskandar, clad in the black-and-gold of the house with proud, stylized antlers atop his helm, would survey their camp while orders were given to each regiment leader.

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Ernesta Von Norgard
 
The march had been long and the tidings grim. The skies were grey and foreboding, and the weather was lifeless. Cloudy skies with no rain, the dirt was damp and muddy but not healthy. Neither wetland or marsh nor woodland or plains. It was simply dead. Nevertheless the Company marched, led by their Captain, Söldnerhauptmann Boris von Kietland, in three columns, divided by their various roles. The first column of some sixty mercenaries were the pikewall, men and women of lesser wealth that were armed with a variety of long polearms, halberds, pikes and billhooks most prevelant among them. The second column, marching behind them, were the crossbowmen who were more uniformly armed, though still were the less wealthy of the mercenaries present and numbered perhaps forty. Then came the third column, the Doppelsöldner, numbering only around twenty.

These were those who had served with the company for more than one contract, and had earned enough to purchase better equipment, and proven themselves competent enough to be put on the very front amidst the foe without dying too quickly. Armed with Greatswords and clad in cuirasse, they were certainly the most impressive looking of the bunk. They took up the rear on the march.

This was how their little group moved through this accursed place, and when finally camp was made they were quick about it. Crafting the palisade with expedience, and setting up the camp as they did so. Singing their songs as they did so. Their surroundings were less than jovial, but this was a company that held the philosophy of laughing in the face of death. There was no reason to fear the inevitable, so they simply chose to enjoy their existence while it lasted. Even in the midst of grim places and hard work.

The exact nature of their contract was yet to be fully revealed to them. But they were no strangers to the retrieval of artifacts for wealthy clients that didn't like to take their own risks. This was another job, one they would complete with the same diligence they had every contract before it.

The camp was being raised as the Expeditionary Commander surveyed it, seeing these mercenaries perform their duties well enough. And near him Söldnerhauptmann Boris was likewise conducting the business of command where needed. Acting as a more direct liason between his men and the commander.


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Forces of Iskandar
 
The expedition commander would halt their horse upon spying the company captain. Approaching Boris at a slow canter and the barded warhorse would come to a disciplined halt before the man. The dark coloration of the commander's plate seemed almost at home in the gloom and the muck, though the golden edging and highlights shone all the brighter for it as he informed Boris.

"You'll find spear, pike and arrow little use in these lands Captain. Few of our enemies this day possess the flesh to care and those that do do not have the mind to complain about a bolt through the gut."

The commander bore in his procession a few scribes and soldiers bearing the golden sun of House Iskandar, their armor mostly clean, still bearing the occasional splattering of mud and dried blood that battle with the walking dead always lead to. In tow with them were several scribes and clerks who would conference with the company's quartermaster to ensure that all the needs of the company were met and to tally their belongings in case of theft or loss during the expedition.

Dropping from his horse the commander would approach Boris and, offering a bow of the head out of respect, would then ask.

"Now then, may I inspect the troops? I would address them personally as to our mission here."

True to his own advice the commander bore a flanged mace at his hip, a kite shield and even a polemace that was strapped to his horse. No stabbing or piercing weaponry at all to be found. The commander would pause, only just a moment, before adding in a more casual, tired tone.

"Frankly, Captain, so that we can all know what in the hell we're after out here and all be home sooner rather than later."

Ernesta Von Norgard
 
"I am sourly aware of that Commander." The Captain told him grimly as the Commander approached. Boris would offer the commander a handshake after he approached him. "Söldnerhauptmann Boris von Kietland, a pleasure to meet you Commander."

The man had expected him to request to inspect the troops, and was ready at the request to call them to formation. The moment the request was made, Boris turned to the small camp housing his company. "Form Ranks!" The order carried across the camp with clarity, and immediately all the inhabitants therein scrambled to the center. Falling into lines, the three divisions of their company forming their own bock. They were not professional soldiers, but they came very damn close. They knew to be quiet when their command was addressing them.

Ernesta was among the Doppelsöldner, easily identifiable by their superior armor and flamboyant choice of clothing. They numbered only twenty, though were also the best fighters in the group by far, senior in both skill and veterancy. When facing undead, their cleaving greatswords would prove indispensable in casting down the hordes they were sure to face.

Boris then nodded in the direction of his company. "They're ready for inspection Commander."

Forces of Iskandar
 
The handshake was returned firmly. The commander's posture both firm but also carrying just enough slack to it to show the mental exhaustion with this hellhole he was truly feeling.

"Alexandros Nikolaos."

Came his curt reply. The organization and prompt readiness of the company was appreciated. The commander's steps coming heavy and steady in a plodding pace fit to grind the muck under their plated boots beneath their armored heel. As much a declaration for Alexandros' distaste for this place as anything he could actually say on the matter. Their appraisal came slowly, methodical even in it's pacing, and only upon reaching the company's elite, the Doppelsöldner, did those black and gold boots come to a halt.

Alexandros swept their gaze over the troops for a long, slow moment. Only the vague sounds of camp maintenance and the muttering of the scribes filled the air. Finally, however, Alexandros would give Boris a questioning look before stepping forward to address the troops directly.

"Tell me, Doppelsöldner, if I were to offer you the chance to wet your blades today.... what would you your answer be?"

It was a test. A simple one, of course, but Alexandros wanted to see exactly how much the Graveyard had weighed on the hearts of these men and women and how much they still had left to give.

Ernesta Von Norgard
 
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One did not become a Doppelsöldner by being faint of heart. The road to being a Doppelsöldner required one to enjoy the life it brought. So while ordinarily he might expect most mercenaries to be grubling about the state of things, he saw no such fatigue on the faces of these men and women. Their heads were held high, they were relaxed and utterly unbothered. Most were even smiling.

Ernesta, who was front and center when this question was asked, answered for the group. "We would get our weapons and ask where we needed to be." She told him simply, and this sentiment seemed to be mirrored by the rest of her company.

These were not soldiers who were worn out by battle or adversity, they revelled in the struggle, and they were actually quite fond of fighting undead. Undead had a tendency to be unskilled, uncoordinate and usually came in large numbers. Exactly the kind of fight these Mercenaries excelled in, where danger was present, but the kind of danger they were prepared to face.

The grins on the faces of these veterans would tell the Commander more than a few words could. These men and women were cut from a different cloth, and they were perhaps some of the best equipped for this mission he'd selected them for. Simply because they refused to be glum about it.

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Alexandros gave an approving nod, turned to Boris, and retrieved a scroll from one of the scribes before presenting it to the captain without fanfare.

"Here are your first assignments. Provisions can be retrieved by cart or runners from the druid encampment about an hour's ride east. Far away enough from all this filth to keep us fed."

A shrug enough to set the commander's pauldrons clattering was given before he crossed his arms.

"Walk with me again. To your tent, specifically, we have battle plans to go over."

Presuming the captain complied the commander would adjust one of his gauntlets passively before informing Boris.

"As an unspoken bonus the Lord Iskandar had seen fit to send magi skilled in the art of enchantment along with our expedition. Every mercenary captain that has answered the call can request a weapon or piece of armor for service. As a.... bonus.... for the expedition's completion."

Alexandros would study the captain for a moment, then turn his gaze forward, resting a hand on the hilt of his mace as he grunted.

"Nobles and their politics. I won't bullshit you, I think the Lord Iskandar is looking to keep some companies under more permanent contract. Whispers of unrest from Alliria talk about all manner of shite."

Ernesta Von Norgard
 
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The Captain took the scroll with an equivalent lack of ceremony, and gave it a quick glance to get the gist of what it was they were doing. He'd read it more thoroughly later, once he had space to address his people, but for now there was discussion to be had. He led the Commander away to his tent as directed, and once they were in private he gave the commander his full attention.

He mentioned the bonus, which Boris found interesting enough. But it was the second thing that was mentioned that really caught his attention. Longer term contracts were a little harder to come by, and sometimes were a harder sell than temporary ones. But they were always, nigh universally, at the least worth considering. So the Captain's expression grew thoughtful as he considered this.

Long term employment for him and his company would mean he and his mercs were even closer to retirement, and they likely wouldn't need to worry about a whole lot for a while. It was something he would certainly need to keep in mind for the future. But for now he would also need to focus on the issue at hand.

"Understood. " the captain would say, "Though that is an issue for the future. I'm assuming you called me in here because there's a slightly more delicate aspect to this mission that you would rather not announce for all to hear."

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Inside the orders given to Boris was a concisely written order to see to the capture and fortification of an ancient, crumbled spire to the northwest. The stone of it's build and foundation both dilapidated and preserved by this unholy place.

Alexandros would pause, hearing Boris's guess, and then... the commander would chuckle. A genuine hearty laugh not at the captain's expense but in a good natured fashion as he knocked his gauntleted fist against the wood of a table.

"So we have somewhere to set the bloody plans more like."

Came the genuine reply and, sure enough, the scribes would lay out a series of papers, maps to be precise. Each one provided by a mage who had scried on the spire and magically provided the maps. Ranging from the grounds outside the spire littered with bones and corpses that would no doubt animate to it's defense upon arrival but also a birds-eye view of the crumbled interior and it's many rooms. Enough of the spire was still intact such that the roof prevented them from knowing the ENTIRE layout, but being able to know the entirety of the first few rooms would allow them to establish a foothold easily enough.

Alexandros, however, would tap a finger to an unnaturally rocky outcropping the spire was built against and emphasize.

"Biggest issue your people will face is the same that cost us our first scouts. Old, pissing ancient giant bones on the cliffs here. Armed with bows fit for their size that fire arrows as long as a horse."

Ernesta Von Norgard
 
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"Giant Archers?" Boris asked, an eyebrow cocked. "That is indeed an issue. Do we know where these bone giants exactly are? Or will we have to find them ourselves?"

Depending on the answer the solution would change. Either way he would need a small contingent of his Doppelsoldner to take care of that issue prior to their advance. They didn't even need to necessarily kill the giant skeletons, simply destroy their ability to operate their massive weapons, or otherwise cripple them. That tended to be a favoured tactic among his company when facing the undead. To simply disable rather than outright kill if outright killing were infeasible. Just because they could feel no pain didn't mean they could operate a bow with only one hand, nor did it mean they could walk with thier legs cut off at the knee. Ordinarily that would be fatal for mortal creatures, though it was nevertheless devastating for the undead, even if they didn't re-die from it.

Those arrows would certainly devastate just about his whole company on their own if they got enough shots off. Humans weren't exactly built to take that kind of force square in the cest, or any part of their body for that matter, and if lined up right, such as in tight formations, the probability of the projectile killing more than one person per shot was a real problem.

Meanwhile Boris inspected the maps thoughtfully. This was already something he wasn't the best equipped to do from the start, so this was going to be an adventure. But he was confident in his men. The Pikemen and Crossbowmen were all equipped with sidearms, katzbalgers, messers, maces and falchions for the most part. Their primary weapons were liable to be useless agains the undead, so they would have to come up in the rear to support the Doppelsoldner who would go in to clear out the big threats, while the more numerous, less well equipped linemen and crossbowmen cleaned up whatever remained.

Forces of Iskandar
 
Alexandros would nod, shuffling the maps upon the table, only to stop once he gripped a specific piece of paper that showed a more detailed examination of the rocky 'shelf' the giants were on. Higher in the air than the top of the spire itself it gave the giants an ENVIABLE level of overwatch over not only the approach to the spire but also into some of the more ruined sections of the spire that lacked a roof to obscure their sight. This was not all, however, and Alexandros would add.

"We have adjustments we can make to your crossbowmen's equipment, possibly look into skirmishing them a bit if we're careful. Balls of crude iron loaded into the nocked grooves of the crossbow to be fired at high speeds and crush bones, splinter them apart. They won't be breaking the bones of giants but they'll actually do damage compared to arrows."

Again Alexandros would shuffle the maps, back to the killing fields before the spire, and sweep a finger across it.

"The dead linger particularly thickly here. A veritable tide of rotting flesh, bones and blades. You'll have reinforcements. A trio of squads from the Radiant Churches own paladins who are.... efficient at dealing with such creatures but there's only so many of them."

Alexandros shrugged.

"The gods' power might be vast but the number of men and women fit to wield it in battle? Less so....."

Ernesta Von Norgard
 
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The Captain considered this suggestion earnestly. It was indeed an odd solution but one that sounded feasible.

He inspected the clifftop where these giant archers were found. And immediately he decided that they would not in fact be attacking the spire at all until such time as these giants were dealt with. This would need to be a multi-stage assault. The one advantage they had was that undead were scarcely well organized, and even less frequently communicated with one another. So unless there was another surprise waiting for them on approach to the giants' overwatch position...

"Have your scouts been able to approach this place? Or has it been through scrying?" Boris questioned. If they were able to approach then it was likely that there was no traps waiting for them if they were to go for the giants, the only thing they were liable to lose was time. Aside from that, as long as they planned right, and didn't have any additonal surprises this was definitely doable.

Especially with the news of paladins being brought in for support.

"I see. In that case we have little to worry about." Boris said confidently. "My men can cut them down, your paladins can keep them down and the rest of my men can roll up the rear and reinforce fortifications as necessary. And if these modifications to our crossbows works, then we will be able to hold down the fort for some time too in case any surprises come our way."

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Alexandros would shake his head.

"Approach? Only once. That's why we resorted to scrying."

Alexandros hummed at the captain's words, considering, before venturing.

"A squad of paladins along with a select few of your elites to handle the giants before the main fighting begins? Remove the enemies ranged elements, then you and I can lead the bulk of the troops to take the field?"

He chuckled softly.

"Not exactly tactical genius, but it will require operational expertise to see it done. Be sure to hand-pick your best captain. If those giants survive then I fear you and I will be in for some very heavy rain."

Straightening up from the table the commander would nod to Boris, motion to one of the scribes, his voice considerably more bored as he stated.

"Prepare the papers for report: Mark today as the 6th operational excursion into the Graveyard. Gods know how long we'll be here but by the time the first week is up I want a comprehensive report sent home to Alliria."

Turning back to Boris Alexandros would sigh.

"Captain, once you're ready, meet me to the north, outside of my own camp. Once you arrive we march."

Ernesta Von Norgard
 
“An imperfect plan implemented immediately and violently will always work better than a perfect plan.” Boris mused thoughtfully. “Besides, this isn’t some chess match between masters, each thinking eighty turns ahead. We’re fighting animated bones and rotted blood bags. The more complicated we make it the more likely we are to make a blunder. It is in our best interests to keep it simple.”

Boris would stand as the Commander prepared to leave, and wished him well. Telling him that he’d be there as soon as his troops were ready to march.

With that the two parties parted ways for now. Soon enough the company would have its marching orders, and they would be arriving to do their work.

Some hours after this the Commander would hear the march of the mercenaries as they made their way to the staging camp. Their marching songs the first thing those in the camp would hear as they made their approach.

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