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<blockquote data-quote="Greenfield" data-source="post: 5892315" data-attributes="member: 6669384"><p>***</p><p>"No, not that one. I need something straighter, and thick as my wrist the whole length.", Seeburn called, as he discarded the heavy branch that Penn had cut down.</p><p></p><p>"What's so special about these branches?", asked the Bard as he struggled to climb higher.</p><p></p><p>"The wood of the sour fruit is very springy, and bound with the ash it makes an exceptional bow.", replied the Barbarian, for about the fifth time. He suspected that the clever Fey was baiting him, asking questions to avoid honest work, but he refused to lose his temper. He continued scouting through the lemon grove, hoping to find more good wood.</p><p></p><p>He knew that skinning and shaving the branches would reveal hidden knots, splits or twists in the grain that would make them unacceptable. Out of a half dozen pieces, he might find one or two that were of the quality he needed.</p><p></p><p>Their game of hide and seek was interrupted by Sylus, who called to them, "The wagons are leaving! Grab your gear and get moving!"</p><p></p><p>Seeburn swore, and quickly grabbed up an armload of the green wood. He'd trim and sort it later.</p><p></p><p>Penn laughed at the sight of the burly Scott trying to sling his pack, hold the bundle of branches and run, all at the same time. He wouldn't have been able to catch the carts at all if Nedel hadn't asked the driver to slow the pace for them.</p><p></p><p>Then it was an easy afternoon is the caravan made its way down the road towards Athens.</p><p>*** </p><p>By dark they had caught up with the army, and to the surprise of all, they made camp. They had barely covered a third of the distance back to the city, and seemed to be in no hurry. This was a far cry from the legendary swift sword of Rome, but the commanders all seemed pleased with their progress, and in good spirits.</p><p></p><p>The night passed easily enough.</p><p>*** </p><p>"Who in Tartarus are you?", demanded the gristled old man, returning the Senator's glare without flinching.</p><p></p><p>"I am Denius Caesar, Seneschal of Rome, and I'm taking charge of this port!", thundered the Senator, his face flushing with rage. Why couldn't this old man see who he was dealing with?</p><p></p><p>The fact that the harbor was overflowing with people struggling to leave, each with a wild tale about why they were more important than the next may have had something to do with it. But really, the man should be able to discern quality when he saw it.</p><p></p><p>"If you're Caesar, then I'm Posiedon's grand-niece.", spat the old man. "Now, move back in line!"</p><p></p><p>Denius heaved a heavy sigh. "Let's go to your office, so I can show you my papers.", he suggested, gesturing towards the small building the Harbormaster used to keep records.</p><p></p><p>The two stepped inside, to handle matters privately. A few moments later Denius emerged alone, the baton of office in his hand.</p><p></p><p>"Women and children first!', he called in a voice that had once rallied crowds outside the Imperial Senate. "Patricians and their families, to the north end!"</p><p></p><p>And so, with the help of his personal guard, the Senator began the orderly evacuation of the city, as best as the limited shipping would allow. He reserved one of the larger personal vessels for the important people, such as himself, while using freight and fishing boats for the others. Each person was permitted to take what they could carry, and each was required to take a gallon of water. No food was issued, as the city would need that, and the boats could find a safe port within a day or two.</p><p></p><p>Tucked under a desk in a small office, an old man's body slowly grew cold.</p><p>*** </p><p>"Can we hold them?", called General Markus to the commander of the city guard.</p><p></p><p>"I know we can.", the man replied. "I'm more worried about the temple types than my own men. They might break, if pressed."</p><p></p><p>"Then scatter them among the regular defenders.", the general suggested. "One temple archer for every three regulars."</p><p></p><p>"It will have to be one for two.", the commander replied. "With the folk of both Athena and Artemis, they have a good number."</p><p></p><p>And so it was done. The commanders, convinced that they could hold their own people at their posts, prepared for the relatively simple problem of facing the barbarian hordes that were massing outside the city walls.</p><p></p><p>And they were massing. Well out of bowshot they gathered, a howling horde of darkness. They came as if there were no end to their number, Orcs and Goblins, with Mountain Orcs, Ogres and even Giants among their company, they were a frightening force. Above, huge vultures circled, while winged Harpies waited eagerly to spring into the air. Then came the hard part. The waiting.</p><p></p><p>The Orcs were still arriving, still assembling throughout the day, their howling and chanting rasping at the nerves of the defenders. But they didn't attack.</p><p></p><p>Calvinus, familiar with this tactic, advised that they rest their people, manning the walls instead with slaves and servants, to maintain the appearance of strength. He knew that the Orcs would wait for sunset, when the darkness favored them.</p><p></p><p>And so it was done, with a scattering of officers to maintain order. It was a risky move, for if the Vandal horde decided to strike early, the courage of the slaves would almost certainly fail.</p><p></p><p>Then darkness came, and with it came the attack.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>If the city could hold out through the night, help might arrive in time.</p><p>*** </p><p>The sounds of battle were echoing across the woods through the night, yet the army didn't move. The hills were deceptive in the way sounds carried, for the battle was still miles away. Still, it wracked on the nerves of the companions to sit and wait instead of rushing to the fray.</p><p></p><p>The soldiers, however, had dug in a camp for a second night, and seemed quite relaxed as they bedded down.</p><p></p><p>"Commander Gaius", Nedel complained. "We made this journey in less than a day. Your troops took a day and a half, and here we are, less than an hour from the city, and we're stopping? While the battle rages?"</p><p></p><p>"Yes, Comus Nedel", the commander replied, with the air of someone talking to a child. At least he had gotten the title right. "Our orders are to allow the Vandals to strike at the city for a day and a night, then catch them between ourselves and the city when they have exhausted their first efforts. Their casters will be weak then, and ours will be at their peak."</p><p></p><p>Nedel felt like gnashing his teeth, but it would have done him no good. At least this man had gotten his title correct, instead of using the generic "Prince", which was often bandied about meaning "someone with a title". And so he and his friends spent another night, when they would rather be fighting. It galled him to stand idle while the heroic efforts he and his friends had made were made light of.</p><p>*** </p><p>Dawn broke, as best it could, and the Orcs began to withdraw to their camps. They had fought through the night, and were satisfied with the results. Walls had been damaged, and their forces had won through to the river. Over the next few days they'd dam and divert it. A thirsty man fought poorly. A thirsty city fought not at all.</p><p></p><p>Then, behind them there was a flare of trumpets, and from the sky came the first cries of battle being renewed.</p><p></p><p>Striking from the clouds came the Roman Eagles, stooping upon the carrion birds of the Vandal force. With the power of the dive, they struck like the thunderbolts of Zeus, and fully half the vultures spiraled to the earth, trailing blood.</p><p></p><p>Then came the drums, and stepping from the woods came the Romans. They advanced in smart order, a formation over five thousand feet long, blade and shield in the front, followed by rank upon rank shield and spear. Their line appeared ragged at first glance, but a trained eye might have seen that they formed a regular pattern, like the teeth of a saw blade.</p><p></p><p>Behind the center of this great line stood a double rank of archers, over two thousand feet long, with officers and cavalry arrayed behind on horses.</p><p></p><p>Nedel had been able to secure himself a mount, for he needed to be able to see a target to direct his magic. Appelenea's presence had been requested by Commander Gaius, and she rode by his side.</p><p></p><p>And, to trumpet and drum, they advanced as one.</p><p></p><p>Sylus had chosen to place himself in the north end, far from the other archers. Cassius had placed himself south of the center, not in the formation but among the reserves that stood behind. Marcus stood near the commanders, ready to give healing or encouragement, and Penn took the mirror position to the other side of the command.</p><p></p><p>Seeburn stood among the archers, trying to make sense of the orders. An officer sat astride his horse, a long baton in his hand. Along the line, with each cohort of archers, rode similar officers with similar baton, and as they raised their baton, so raised a thousand bows. As he aimed his baton, so aimed a thousand arrows. And as he dropped his baton, so flew a thousand messengers of death. The slate gray sky darkened above the Vandals, and destruction rained down. </p><p></p><p>Some got their shields up in time, some small groups managed to form turtles, but for most there was no place to run, no place to hide. Quarrels poured down like sheets of rain, as volley after volley poured in, washing the enemy away in their flood.</p><p></p><p>Then, along the line, the crash of metal on metal as the two forces met.</p><p></p><p>Giants hurled boulders the size of large melon at the human lines, striving to slay officers or tear holes in the formation, but holes quickly closed.</p><p></p><p>Nedel saw his death coming for him from the sky, and turned to leap away. The rock came, and the horse beneath him screamed in shock and pain. Then it went silent. He found himself staggering, but surprisingly alive, and responded with bolt after bolt of sorcerous energy. He saw them strike, and he saw his target flinch in pain, but in the chaos of the battlefield he couldn't see if the opponent fell or not.</p><p></p><p>Sylus watched for any who seemed to be issuing orders, and slew them with his bow as soon as any began to rally near them. The troops nearby cheered every time one of the decorated Orc leaders toppled, and the commander of this cohort encouraged their good cheer. The damage to the Orcs' morale was worth more than the relatively small number slain, and they watched as the dark force drew towards the center of the line.</p><p></p><p>Cassius' great sword helped him fill holes in the lines as they formed, a barrier of steel that no Orc could cross, buying time for the Romans to recover from the giant's devastating missiles.</p><p></p><p>Marcus selected a tough looking group commander and made him an offer. "Would you like to match those giants, eye to eye?"</p><p></p><p>And as quickly as that, the Romans had a champion, dealing death with a blade of iron, leveraged from on high, with the strength and reach of a Titan. And the Orcs hesitated. It was the beginning of the end for them.</p><p></p><p>The spell didn't last long, but it did its job. The Orc commanders, trying to rally their troops, ordered a full charge at the Roman command.</p><p></p><p>To the surprise of many onlookers, the line of soldiers retreated before the force of this charge, stepping back in orderly fashion so as to retreat without breaking. Reserves filled the line where it grew thin, and still the Orcs pressed on and in.</p><p></p><p>Then the trap closed, as the long wings of the Roman formation swept forward and in, wrapping around the bulk of the Vandal force. And the commander called to Appelenea, and pointed. "There, now!"</p><p></p><p>The Druidess smiled, bent down, and laid her hand on the trampled earth. "<em>Root bind</em>", she said, almost softly amid the insane din of battle.</p><p></p><p>The center of the Orc formation froze as the ragged remains of the trampled field grasses reached up and took hold. Troops still pressed in from behind, forcing their companions into the enchanted earth, even trampling over their fallen companions before finding themselves also pinned.</p><p></p><p>The front line of the Orcs, suddenly finding that they had no one advancing to support them from behind, faltered, and began to fall back.</p><p></p><p>And then at was all but over. With chaos in their own ranks and a well ordered enemy closing in, the charge became a retreat, and then a route. Some few Orcs threw down their weapons to beg for mercy, only to be cut down by their own people for the show of cowardice. And still the Romans advanced, cutting and slicing with each step, their lines growing more dense as they closed.</p><p></p><p>Finally, the two jaws of the trap touched, and nothing living remained between them. It was over.</p><p>*** </p><p>In the aftermath, it was estimated that perhaps the fifth part of the Vandal force had escaped, mostly scouts and camp support. Their losses were in the thousands, and the corpse pyres would burn for days.</p><p></p><p>The Romans had had nearly a thousand fall, but because they had never had to retreat, their wounded had been taken from the field for care. It would be weeks before all could be fully attended to, but their actual losses were minimal.</p><p></p><p>And the city of Athens was in a spasm of celebration for the next three days.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Greenfield, post: 5892315, member: 6669384"] *** "No, not that one. I need something straighter, and thick as my wrist the whole length.", Seeburn called, as he discarded the heavy branch that Penn had cut down. "What's so special about these branches?", asked the Bard as he struggled to climb higher. "The wood of the sour fruit is very springy, and bound with the ash it makes an exceptional bow.", replied the Barbarian, for about the fifth time. He suspected that the clever Fey was baiting him, asking questions to avoid honest work, but he refused to lose his temper. He continued scouting through the lemon grove, hoping to find more good wood. He knew that skinning and shaving the branches would reveal hidden knots, splits or twists in the grain that would make them unacceptable. Out of a half dozen pieces, he might find one or two that were of the quality he needed. Their game of hide and seek was interrupted by Sylus, who called to them, "The wagons are leaving! Grab your gear and get moving!" Seeburn swore, and quickly grabbed up an armload of the green wood. He'd trim and sort it later. Penn laughed at the sight of the burly Scott trying to sling his pack, hold the bundle of branches and run, all at the same time. He wouldn't have been able to catch the carts at all if Nedel hadn't asked the driver to slow the pace for them. Then it was an easy afternoon is the caravan made its way down the road towards Athens. *** By dark they had caught up with the army, and to the surprise of all, they made camp. They had barely covered a third of the distance back to the city, and seemed to be in no hurry. This was a far cry from the legendary swift sword of Rome, but the commanders all seemed pleased with their progress, and in good spirits. The night passed easily enough. *** "Who in Tartarus are you?", demanded the gristled old man, returning the Senator's glare without flinching. "I am Denius Caesar, Seneschal of Rome, and I'm taking charge of this port!", thundered the Senator, his face flushing with rage. Why couldn't this old man see who he was dealing with? The fact that the harbor was overflowing with people struggling to leave, each with a wild tale about why they were more important than the next may have had something to do with it. But really, the man should be able to discern quality when he saw it. "If you're Caesar, then I'm Posiedon's grand-niece.", spat the old man. "Now, move back in line!" Denius heaved a heavy sigh. "Let's go to your office, so I can show you my papers.", he suggested, gesturing towards the small building the Harbormaster used to keep records. The two stepped inside, to handle matters privately. A few moments later Denius emerged alone, the baton of office in his hand. "Women and children first!', he called in a voice that had once rallied crowds outside the Imperial Senate. "Patricians and their families, to the north end!" And so, with the help of his personal guard, the Senator began the orderly evacuation of the city, as best as the limited shipping would allow. He reserved one of the larger personal vessels for the important people, such as himself, while using freight and fishing boats for the others. Each person was permitted to take what they could carry, and each was required to take a gallon of water. No food was issued, as the city would need that, and the boats could find a safe port within a day or two. Tucked under a desk in a small office, an old man's body slowly grew cold. *** "Can we hold them?", called General Markus to the commander of the city guard. "I know we can.", the man replied. "I'm more worried about the temple types than my own men. They might break, if pressed." "Then scatter them among the regular defenders.", the general suggested. "One temple archer for every three regulars." "It will have to be one for two.", the commander replied. "With the folk of both Athena and Artemis, they have a good number." And so it was done. The commanders, convinced that they could hold their own people at their posts, prepared for the relatively simple problem of facing the barbarian hordes that were massing outside the city walls. And they were massing. Well out of bowshot they gathered, a howling horde of darkness. They came as if there were no end to their number, Orcs and Goblins, with Mountain Orcs, Ogres and even Giants among their company, they were a frightening force. Above, huge vultures circled, while winged Harpies waited eagerly to spring into the air. Then came the hard part. The waiting. The Orcs were still arriving, still assembling throughout the day, their howling and chanting rasping at the nerves of the defenders. But they didn't attack. Calvinus, familiar with this tactic, advised that they rest their people, manning the walls instead with slaves and servants, to maintain the appearance of strength. He knew that the Orcs would wait for sunset, when the darkness favored them. And so it was done, with a scattering of officers to maintain order. It was a risky move, for if the Vandal horde decided to strike early, the courage of the slaves would almost certainly fail. Then darkness came, and with it came the attack. If the city could hold out through the night, help might arrive in time. *** The sounds of battle were echoing across the woods through the night, yet the army didn't move. The hills were deceptive in the way sounds carried, for the battle was still miles away. Still, it wracked on the nerves of the companions to sit and wait instead of rushing to the fray. The soldiers, however, had dug in a camp for a second night, and seemed quite relaxed as they bedded down. "Commander Gaius", Nedel complained. "We made this journey in less than a day. Your troops took a day and a half, and here we are, less than an hour from the city, and we're stopping? While the battle rages?" "Yes, Comus Nedel", the commander replied, with the air of someone talking to a child. At least he had gotten the title right. "Our orders are to allow the Vandals to strike at the city for a day and a night, then catch them between ourselves and the city when they have exhausted their first efforts. Their casters will be weak then, and ours will be at their peak." Nedel felt like gnashing his teeth, but it would have done him no good. At least this man had gotten his title correct, instead of using the generic "Prince", which was often bandied about meaning "someone with a title". And so he and his friends spent another night, when they would rather be fighting. It galled him to stand idle while the heroic efforts he and his friends had made were made light of. *** Dawn broke, as best it could, and the Orcs began to withdraw to their camps. They had fought through the night, and were satisfied with the results. Walls had been damaged, and their forces had won through to the river. Over the next few days they'd dam and divert it. A thirsty man fought poorly. A thirsty city fought not at all. Then, behind them there was a flare of trumpets, and from the sky came the first cries of battle being renewed. Striking from the clouds came the Roman Eagles, stooping upon the carrion birds of the Vandal force. With the power of the dive, they struck like the thunderbolts of Zeus, and fully half the vultures spiraled to the earth, trailing blood. Then came the drums, and stepping from the woods came the Romans. They advanced in smart order, a formation over five thousand feet long, blade and shield in the front, followed by rank upon rank shield and spear. Their line appeared ragged at first glance, but a trained eye might have seen that they formed a regular pattern, like the teeth of a saw blade. Behind the center of this great line stood a double rank of archers, over two thousand feet long, with officers and cavalry arrayed behind on horses. Nedel had been able to secure himself a mount, for he needed to be able to see a target to direct his magic. Appelenea's presence had been requested by Commander Gaius, and she rode by his side. And, to trumpet and drum, they advanced as one. Sylus had chosen to place himself in the north end, far from the other archers. Cassius had placed himself south of the center, not in the formation but among the reserves that stood behind. Marcus stood near the commanders, ready to give healing or encouragement, and Penn took the mirror position to the other side of the command. Seeburn stood among the archers, trying to make sense of the orders. An officer sat astride his horse, a long baton in his hand. Along the line, with each cohort of archers, rode similar officers with similar baton, and as they raised their baton, so raised a thousand bows. As he aimed his baton, so aimed a thousand arrows. And as he dropped his baton, so flew a thousand messengers of death. The slate gray sky darkened above the Vandals, and destruction rained down. Some got their shields up in time, some small groups managed to form turtles, but for most there was no place to run, no place to hide. Quarrels poured down like sheets of rain, as volley after volley poured in, washing the enemy away in their flood. Then, along the line, the crash of metal on metal as the two forces met. Giants hurled boulders the size of large melon at the human lines, striving to slay officers or tear holes in the formation, but holes quickly closed. Nedel saw his death coming for him from the sky, and turned to leap away. The rock came, and the horse beneath him screamed in shock and pain. Then it went silent. He found himself staggering, but surprisingly alive, and responded with bolt after bolt of sorcerous energy. He saw them strike, and he saw his target flinch in pain, but in the chaos of the battlefield he couldn't see if the opponent fell or not. Sylus watched for any who seemed to be issuing orders, and slew them with his bow as soon as any began to rally near them. The troops nearby cheered every time one of the decorated Orc leaders toppled, and the commander of this cohort encouraged their good cheer. The damage to the Orcs' morale was worth more than the relatively small number slain, and they watched as the dark force drew towards the center of the line. Cassius' great sword helped him fill holes in the lines as they formed, a barrier of steel that no Orc could cross, buying time for the Romans to recover from the giant's devastating missiles. Marcus selected a tough looking group commander and made him an offer. "Would you like to match those giants, eye to eye?" And as quickly as that, the Romans had a champion, dealing death with a blade of iron, leveraged from on high, with the strength and reach of a Titan. And the Orcs hesitated. It was the beginning of the end for them. The spell didn't last long, but it did its job. The Orc commanders, trying to rally their troops, ordered a full charge at the Roman command. To the surprise of many onlookers, the line of soldiers retreated before the force of this charge, stepping back in orderly fashion so as to retreat without breaking. Reserves filled the line where it grew thin, and still the Orcs pressed on and in. Then the trap closed, as the long wings of the Roman formation swept forward and in, wrapping around the bulk of the Vandal force. And the commander called to Appelenea, and pointed. "There, now!" The Druidess smiled, bent down, and laid her hand on the trampled earth. "[I]Root bind[/I]", she said, almost softly amid the insane din of battle. The center of the Orc formation froze as the ragged remains of the trampled field grasses reached up and took hold. Troops still pressed in from behind, forcing their companions into the enchanted earth, even trampling over their fallen companions before finding themselves also pinned. The front line of the Orcs, suddenly finding that they had no one advancing to support them from behind, faltered, and began to fall back. And then at was all but over. With chaos in their own ranks and a well ordered enemy closing in, the charge became a retreat, and then a route. Some few Orcs threw down their weapons to beg for mercy, only to be cut down by their own people for the show of cowardice. And still the Romans advanced, cutting and slicing with each step, their lines growing more dense as they closed. Finally, the two jaws of the trap touched, and nothing living remained between them. It was over. *** In the aftermath, it was estimated that perhaps the fifth part of the Vandal force had escaped, mostly scouts and camp support. Their losses were in the thousands, and the corpse pyres would burn for days. The Romans had had nearly a thousand fall, but because they had never had to retreat, their wounded had been taken from the field for care. It would be weeks before all could be fully attended to, but their actual losses were minimal. And the city of Athens was in a spasm of celebration for the next three days. [/QUOTE]
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