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<blockquote data-quote="Emperor Valerian" data-source="post: 1689104" data-attributes="member: 15043"><p>“My Lord Haldris,” Sir Albrecht Manse gave a bow. The candelight within the lord’s tent made the knight’s plated armor seem like it was bronze, making him look like an Imperial commander of old.</p><p></p><p>“Manse, Lord Bearsan,” a portly man with a grizzled stubble gave Manse a polite bow, and his erstwhile travel companion a sharp gaze. The candlelight made his normally dully brown livery seemed dull red, the leaping hart in its center now blazing orange like a setting sun. “Welcome to my camp. I trust this night finds Lord Erelion in good health?” </p><p></p><p>“Excellent health, but not settled in mind, m’lord,” the Beardstone spoke, cutting off Manse before he could reply. “He is concerned with the pace of the march of you and your fellow barons... Mays, Martok and Haldarman.”</p><p></p><p>Manse winced at the smaller man’s frankness, and wanted to desperately snatch those words out of the memory of Baron Haldris as the large man before them glowered. <em>Not the way to start a conversation with the proud Baron... especially considering the past these two men have...</em></p><p></p><p>“You are very blunt, my lord,” Haldris said after a second or two, his voice utterly devoid of emotion. Something else that made Manse wince, as the Baron motioned for them to approach the table in the middle of his tent. “Why does he have such concern? We made ten miles today through roads still muddy, a very good pace! My troops are mostly foot knights... I cannot ask men <em>walking</em> in chain hauberks to jog an additional few miles because your mounted Baron thinks its doable!” </p><p></p><p>“My lord,” Manse jumped in as the Baron’s voice rose, “Lord Erelion is merely attempting to ensure that all of our forces arrive on the marshalling grounds within a day or so of each other. The enemy is moving, quite rapidly, and we must ensure all of our striking power arrives in one fell blow! You are the vanguard of a column that has the forces of no less than eight houses, and the others cannot move after your troops set camp so soon... the other columns marched till two hours after sundown, while yours made camp before the sun had covered itself for the night!” </p><p></p><p>Manse allowed a slight bit of pleading in his next request, “Only one quarter of your troops are foot knights. Is there any way your other soldiers could march an additional hour or two past sunset, with you knights making camp off of the road? Or perhaps take a break in midday to march an additional two and a half after sundown?”</p><p></p><p>“M’lord,” Haldris looked up at Manse, eyes blazing, “first your Lord sent me orders to keep my columns tight, and now he requests I split my forces? After a few days, my knights would lag far behind the others... and should we run into anything, a great deal of my best troops would not arrive at the head of the column in time! Your Lord Baron is no more-”</p><p></p><p>“Now listen here!” Bearstone snapped. “Lord Erelion is the leader of this army, and he has issued-“</p><p></p><p>“Erelion is a <em>Baron</em>, the same noble rank as <em>me!</em>” Haldris shot back. “<em>I</em> have more combat experience than that sad sack of cow dung, and yet he-“</p><p></p><p>“So you insult your commander!?” Beardstone roared back, a hand rushing to the hilt of his sword. “No wonder Eloise is my bride, and not yours!” Ugly words began to fly, and Manse could feel the ears of the entire camp listening to the shouts coming from their commander’s tent.</p><p></p><p><em>So it rears its ugly head... again,</em> Manse sighed as the other two jumped into a yelling match in earnest. <em>Lord Erelion is more clever than many of the other nobles... it is too sad that so many Dukes, Counts and the like put ranks and honor above brains...</em></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p><em>Breathe, Vintressa,</em> the princess slowly reminded herself, her heart racing as she gently brought her horse around to face the campfires shining through the trees. <em>Breathe, calm...</em> she closed her eyes, seeking to focus her anxiety. After a few seconds, she opened them again, and looked down at the sentry from Haldris’ troops, cut down by an excellent arrow shot from one of the guardsmen now forming behind her.</p><p></p><p><em>He could have warned them all!</em> her terrified mind said again, and she felt her heart start to race once more.</p><p></p><p>She felt, rather than heard, a presence next to her, and saw a black hood, floating just above the mucky ground. It turned, and fell away to reveal the face of Aeron, the Court Mage.</p><p></p><p>“Did he tell them?” the mage asked, eyes wide. He had argued long and hard the entire ride that this would be folly, that he didn’t know if any of it would work. Even now, Vintressa swore she could see the proud man shaking a bit. At Vintressa’s insistence, he’d put a small levitation spell on himself, to keep down the noise his panicky feet might have otherwise created.</p><p></p><p>“No... Captain Ulis’ arrow silenced him,” she nodded to the body on the other side of her horse. The wizard floated up slightly, and gave a wince. Body’s with arrows in their face were rarely a nice sight to behold.</p><p></p><p>Vintressa glanced behind her, her mind wanting to double check after the near disaster. Her eyes, long adjusted to the dark, spotted the hooded figures of several guardsmen behind her... and slight movements further to the left and right... more guardsmen. Somewhere further behind was Aegrifyr, waiting for his instructions. And amongst the guardsmen themselves was Royukgan.</p><p></p><p><em>Without a sword,</em> she groaned again.</p><p></p><p>Only two hours before, as they had been rounding up the other riders and moving them into place, she had seen him unbuckle the rapier she’d thrust in his hands, and pack it away.</p><p></p><p>“Why are you doing that?” she’d demanded.</p><p></p><p>“I’m going to fight with what I know how to use,” he’d replied, moving the cloak back to show one of his two <em>sai</em>. Vintressa remembered her worried response.</p><p></p><p>“Those things can’t stop a heavy sword blade!”</p><p></p><p>“Neither can your needleswords, I bet,” was his reply.</p><p></p><p><em>Hieroneous, watch him,</em> she whispered to herself, before pushing the thoughts and concerns about him from her mind. She needed total focus... this was not a riding romp in the woods with Val, or a fun spar in the armory. </p><p></p><p><em>This is the real thing,</em> she thought in a mixture of awe and dread. She felt her hand grab the hilt of her sword, and almost immediately she felt better as her hands gripped the blade tightly.</p><p></p><p>“Shall I go?” Aeron whispered quietly to her, and Vintressa nodded. As she watched the wizard mumble a few words and then seem to vanish into thin air, her grip on her blade tightened. Slowly, carefully, she drew the rapier out, and held it up. She heard the soft scrapes of other blades coming from their scabbards behind her.</p><p></p><p>For one last moment, the stories of old, of the deeds others had done floated in her mind. Long ago, she instinctively would have laughed, and said that battle was Val’s future. </p><p></p><p><em>How wrong I would have been,</em> she thought. She blinked, at then set her mark... a campfire ahead that was near a the largest tent they’d spotted so far... probably commanders. <em>Quick, fast, do not pause for combat. A slashing ride...</em></p><p></p><p>She put her spurs into her horse’s flanks.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>“Bearsans,” Manse said, now annoyed. In vain he tried to get between the small, combative man and the larger and no less angry Lord Haldris. “M’lords! Please!”</p><p></p><p>“You dare to call my motives into question!?” Haldris roared over Manse’s pleas. “You, a mere <em>Earl</em>, and a mongrel cur at that!” Haldris’ own hands danced dangerously close to his own blade, and Manse was sincerely worried that if the argument did not stop soon, blows would be traded.</p><p></p><p>“Everyone knows that you, Halderman, and Mays are cowardly little curs!” Beardstone hissed. “You ran away from the Imperial tourneys! You were supposed to march to defend the Duke of Erelion and yet you sat back and picked your bottoms with pitchforks! Go ahead, show your bravery!” Beardstone growled, “Draw you blade! Draw it, so the world may know how to get Lord Haldris to actually fight!” Manse was about to shout a sharp rebuke at Bearsans to try to get him to reel in his tongue, when the world suddenly seemed to explode around him.</p><p></p><p>There was noise, shouts, screams, the ringing of steel against steel. Horses screaming. The tent seemed to suddenly fall about them, poles collapsing, tables collapsing in the chaotic din. For a few seconds, Manse could not see, and it was only by feel that he grabbed his blade and pulled it from its scabbard. In a panic, not caring who or what he struck, he swung, and was rewarded by a ripping sound. The darkness of fallen canvas fell away from him, and his eyes saw a vision terrible to behold, his ears now fully able to appreciate the chaos about him.</p><p></p><p>As far as he could see, were horses with black riders, their blades slashing to and fro in the light of the campfires. From the woods to the right came hundreds of pinpoints of light... thousands of torches, as well as the distinctive <em>tramp</em> of a thick, powerful battleline thundering through the brush, their armor clinking in the night air.</p><p></p><p>Manse could not see his horse, so instead he spun in a circle, ascertaining his situation, his blade ready to deal with any foe close to him. A <em>whoosh</em> flashed close to his head, and he heard the dull <em>thwack</em> as an arrow hit an unprotected body. He spun around to see Beardstone up, blade drawn as well, Lord Haldris beside him, an arrow coming from the larger man’s shoulder.</p><p></p><p>“M’lord!” Manse called, rushing back towards the other two, “We must get you back! They are upon us!” He grabbed Beardstone’s gauntlets and yanked the smaller man behind him. </p><p></p><p>He could hear another noise, the sounds of feet running as soldiers dashed up the road, towards the other columns in a panic. Their voices were raised in screams, calls for whatever gods they worshiped. Many were only half clothed, and none had weapons. Beyond them, powerful blasts of fire and light lit up the road, where the next camps would be. The mounts of many knights and lords streamed past, riderless, screeching in fright. </p><p></p><p>Suddenly, right before them, a rider thundered to a halt. Immediately, Beardstone swung his blade, a blow against most riders would have normally struck the animal. Somehow, this creature yanked his mount away, and Beardstone’s blade met only air. A split second later, Manse saw steel flash into the man’s hand, and suddenly he felt a sharp blow to his shoulder, almost knocking him down. AS he stumbled back, Beardstone caught him.</p><p></p><p>“He’s gone,” Manse heard Beardstone say, “Damn! Can you make it to the woods?” Manse did his best to nod, the pain shooting from his shoulder and down his arm. He felt arms grab him, and slowly, then faster and faster, he came closer to the woods. More horses thundered by, each one making Manse wince, expecting a deathblow. No such blow came, and some thirty seconds or so later, Manse welcomed the feeling of green leaves striking his face.</p><p></p><p>Once he and Beardstone were safely off of the road, Manse turned back, clutching his shoulder. His good hand snaked to his shoulder, where he felt for his wound. Instead of merely a wound, he felt steel, in a shape he had never felt before. With a grunt, he pulled the unusual blade out. He felt Beardstone put something on his shoulder, and tie it tight. It was then that he realized Lord Haldris was not with them.</p><p></p><p>The man was still in the middle of the road, screaming at his soldiers and even his foot knights streamed past, running towards the camps of Count Mays and Duke Haldarman. A loose band of foot knights had formed around him... a small wall of iron, no more than 15 bodies in a tight circle around their Lord, whose blade shone brightly in the firelight.</p><p></p><p>Arrows flashed from the woods, slicing into their ranks. Manse could not see for sure, but he thought he saw Lord Haldris go down. From up the road the tramping noise grew louder, stronger, and finally Manse could make out the dense ranks of Imperial infantry, shields locked, spears lowered, coming in a massive, irresistible line of battle.</p><p></p><p>A black roan trotted past, close enough that Beardstone was able to grab his reins. Quickly, the smaller man brought the steed back into the woods.</p><p></p><p>“Manse, quickly!” he called over the noise, and Sir Albrecht was forced to tear his eyes away from the scene, and awkwardly mount the horse with Beardstone’s help. The Earl then clambered up behind him, and took the reins. He put his spurs into the horse, and Albrecht had a moment to turn around to take in the fading scene as the horse’s speed and his own encroaching darkness took him away.</p><p></p><p>Receding into the night, he could see seven riders clustered around the form of Lord Haldris, who was attempting to rise. The lead rider took his hood off, and Albrecht had only a moment of shock to realize the rider was no he... but a she.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Emperor Valerian, post: 1689104, member: 15043"] “My Lord Haldris,” Sir Albrecht Manse gave a bow. The candelight within the lord’s tent made the knight’s plated armor seem like it was bronze, making him look like an Imperial commander of old. “Manse, Lord Bearsan,” a portly man with a grizzled stubble gave Manse a polite bow, and his erstwhile travel companion a sharp gaze. The candlelight made his normally dully brown livery seemed dull red, the leaping hart in its center now blazing orange like a setting sun. “Welcome to my camp. I trust this night finds Lord Erelion in good health?” “Excellent health, but not settled in mind, m’lord,” the Beardstone spoke, cutting off Manse before he could reply. “He is concerned with the pace of the march of you and your fellow barons... Mays, Martok and Haldarman.” Manse winced at the smaller man’s frankness, and wanted to desperately snatch those words out of the memory of Baron Haldris as the large man before them glowered. [i]Not the way to start a conversation with the proud Baron... especially considering the past these two men have...[/i] “You are very blunt, my lord,” Haldris said after a second or two, his voice utterly devoid of emotion. Something else that made Manse wince, as the Baron motioned for them to approach the table in the middle of his tent. “Why does he have such concern? We made ten miles today through roads still muddy, a very good pace! My troops are mostly foot knights... I cannot ask men [i]walking[/i] in chain hauberks to jog an additional few miles because your mounted Baron thinks its doable!” “My lord,” Manse jumped in as the Baron’s voice rose, “Lord Erelion is merely attempting to ensure that all of our forces arrive on the marshalling grounds within a day or so of each other. The enemy is moving, quite rapidly, and we must ensure all of our striking power arrives in one fell blow! You are the vanguard of a column that has the forces of no less than eight houses, and the others cannot move after your troops set camp so soon... the other columns marched till two hours after sundown, while yours made camp before the sun had covered itself for the night!” Manse allowed a slight bit of pleading in his next request, “Only one quarter of your troops are foot knights. Is there any way your other soldiers could march an additional hour or two past sunset, with you knights making camp off of the road? Or perhaps take a break in midday to march an additional two and a half after sundown?” “M’lord,” Haldris looked up at Manse, eyes blazing, “first your Lord sent me orders to keep my columns tight, and now he requests I split my forces? After a few days, my knights would lag far behind the others... and should we run into anything, a great deal of my best troops would not arrive at the head of the column in time! Your Lord Baron is no more-” “Now listen here!” Bearstone snapped. “Lord Erelion is the leader of this army, and he has issued-“ “Erelion is a [i]Baron[/i], the same noble rank as [i]me![/i]” Haldris shot back. “[i]I[/i] have more combat experience than that sad sack of cow dung, and yet he-“ “So you insult your commander!?” Beardstone roared back, a hand rushing to the hilt of his sword. “No wonder Eloise is my bride, and not yours!” Ugly words began to fly, and Manse could feel the ears of the entire camp listening to the shouts coming from their commander’s tent. [i]So it rears its ugly head... again,[/i] Manse sighed as the other two jumped into a yelling match in earnest. [i]Lord Erelion is more clever than many of the other nobles... it is too sad that so many Dukes, Counts and the like put ranks and honor above brains...[/i] [i]Breathe, Vintressa,[/i] the princess slowly reminded herself, her heart racing as she gently brought her horse around to face the campfires shining through the trees. [i]Breathe, calm...[/i] she closed her eyes, seeking to focus her anxiety. After a few seconds, she opened them again, and looked down at the sentry from Haldris’ troops, cut down by an excellent arrow shot from one of the guardsmen now forming behind her. [i]He could have warned them all![/i] her terrified mind said again, and she felt her heart start to race once more. She felt, rather than heard, a presence next to her, and saw a black hood, floating just above the mucky ground. It turned, and fell away to reveal the face of Aeron, the Court Mage. “Did he tell them?” the mage asked, eyes wide. He had argued long and hard the entire ride that this would be folly, that he didn’t know if any of it would work. Even now, Vintressa swore she could see the proud man shaking a bit. At Vintressa’s insistence, he’d put a small levitation spell on himself, to keep down the noise his panicky feet might have otherwise created. “No... Captain Ulis’ arrow silenced him,” she nodded to the body on the other side of her horse. The wizard floated up slightly, and gave a wince. Body’s with arrows in their face were rarely a nice sight to behold. Vintressa glanced behind her, her mind wanting to double check after the near disaster. Her eyes, long adjusted to the dark, spotted the hooded figures of several guardsmen behind her... and slight movements further to the left and right... more guardsmen. Somewhere further behind was Aegrifyr, waiting for his instructions. And amongst the guardsmen themselves was Royukgan. [i]Without a sword,[/i] she groaned again. Only two hours before, as they had been rounding up the other riders and moving them into place, she had seen him unbuckle the rapier she’d thrust in his hands, and pack it away. “Why are you doing that?” she’d demanded. “I’m going to fight with what I know how to use,” he’d replied, moving the cloak back to show one of his two [i]sai[/i]. Vintressa remembered her worried response. “Those things can’t stop a heavy sword blade!” “Neither can your needleswords, I bet,” was his reply. [i]Hieroneous, watch him,[/i] she whispered to herself, before pushing the thoughts and concerns about him from her mind. She needed total focus... this was not a riding romp in the woods with Val, or a fun spar in the armory. [i]This is the real thing,[/i] she thought in a mixture of awe and dread. She felt her hand grab the hilt of her sword, and almost immediately she felt better as her hands gripped the blade tightly. “Shall I go?” Aeron whispered quietly to her, and Vintressa nodded. As she watched the wizard mumble a few words and then seem to vanish into thin air, her grip on her blade tightened. Slowly, carefully, she drew the rapier out, and held it up. She heard the soft scrapes of other blades coming from their scabbards behind her. For one last moment, the stories of old, of the deeds others had done floated in her mind. Long ago, she instinctively would have laughed, and said that battle was Val’s future. [i]How wrong I would have been,[/i] she thought. She blinked, at then set her mark... a campfire ahead that was near a the largest tent they’d spotted so far... probably commanders. [i]Quick, fast, do not pause for combat. A slashing ride...[/i] She put her spurs into her horse’s flanks. “Bearsans,” Manse said, now annoyed. In vain he tried to get between the small, combative man and the larger and no less angry Lord Haldris. “M’lords! Please!” “You dare to call my motives into question!?” Haldris roared over Manse’s pleas. “You, a mere [i]Earl[/i], and a mongrel cur at that!” Haldris’ own hands danced dangerously close to his own blade, and Manse was sincerely worried that if the argument did not stop soon, blows would be traded. “Everyone knows that you, Halderman, and Mays are cowardly little curs!” Beardstone hissed. “You ran away from the Imperial tourneys! You were supposed to march to defend the Duke of Erelion and yet you sat back and picked your bottoms with pitchforks! Go ahead, show your bravery!” Beardstone growled, “Draw you blade! Draw it, so the world may know how to get Lord Haldris to actually fight!” Manse was about to shout a sharp rebuke at Bearsans to try to get him to reel in his tongue, when the world suddenly seemed to explode around him. There was noise, shouts, screams, the ringing of steel against steel. Horses screaming. The tent seemed to suddenly fall about them, poles collapsing, tables collapsing in the chaotic din. For a few seconds, Manse could not see, and it was only by feel that he grabbed his blade and pulled it from its scabbard. In a panic, not caring who or what he struck, he swung, and was rewarded by a ripping sound. The darkness of fallen canvas fell away from him, and his eyes saw a vision terrible to behold, his ears now fully able to appreciate the chaos about him. As far as he could see, were horses with black riders, their blades slashing to and fro in the light of the campfires. From the woods to the right came hundreds of pinpoints of light... thousands of torches, as well as the distinctive [i]tramp[/i] of a thick, powerful battleline thundering through the brush, their armor clinking in the night air. Manse could not see his horse, so instead he spun in a circle, ascertaining his situation, his blade ready to deal with any foe close to him. A [i]whoosh[/i] flashed close to his head, and he heard the dull [i]thwack[/i] as an arrow hit an unprotected body. He spun around to see Beardstone up, blade drawn as well, Lord Haldris beside him, an arrow coming from the larger man’s shoulder. “M’lord!” Manse called, rushing back towards the other two, “We must get you back! They are upon us!” He grabbed Beardstone’s gauntlets and yanked the smaller man behind him. He could hear another noise, the sounds of feet running as soldiers dashed up the road, towards the other columns in a panic. Their voices were raised in screams, calls for whatever gods they worshiped. Many were only half clothed, and none had weapons. Beyond them, powerful blasts of fire and light lit up the road, where the next camps would be. The mounts of many knights and lords streamed past, riderless, screeching in fright. Suddenly, right before them, a rider thundered to a halt. Immediately, Beardstone swung his blade, a blow against most riders would have normally struck the animal. Somehow, this creature yanked his mount away, and Beardstone’s blade met only air. A split second later, Manse saw steel flash into the man’s hand, and suddenly he felt a sharp blow to his shoulder, almost knocking him down. AS he stumbled back, Beardstone caught him. “He’s gone,” Manse heard Beardstone say, “Damn! Can you make it to the woods?” Manse did his best to nod, the pain shooting from his shoulder and down his arm. He felt arms grab him, and slowly, then faster and faster, he came closer to the woods. More horses thundered by, each one making Manse wince, expecting a deathblow. No such blow came, and some thirty seconds or so later, Manse welcomed the feeling of green leaves striking his face. Once he and Beardstone were safely off of the road, Manse turned back, clutching his shoulder. His good hand snaked to his shoulder, where he felt for his wound. Instead of merely a wound, he felt steel, in a shape he had never felt before. With a grunt, he pulled the unusual blade out. He felt Beardstone put something on his shoulder, and tie it tight. It was then that he realized Lord Haldris was not with them. The man was still in the middle of the road, screaming at his soldiers and even his foot knights streamed past, running towards the camps of Count Mays and Duke Haldarman. A loose band of foot knights had formed around him... a small wall of iron, no more than 15 bodies in a tight circle around their Lord, whose blade shone brightly in the firelight. Arrows flashed from the woods, slicing into their ranks. Manse could not see for sure, but he thought he saw Lord Haldris go down. From up the road the tramping noise grew louder, stronger, and finally Manse could make out the dense ranks of Imperial infantry, shields locked, spears lowered, coming in a massive, irresistible line of battle. A black roan trotted past, close enough that Beardstone was able to grab his reins. Quickly, the smaller man brought the steed back into the woods. “Manse, quickly!” he called over the noise, and Sir Albrecht was forced to tear his eyes away from the scene, and awkwardly mount the horse with Beardstone’s help. The Earl then clambered up behind him, and took the reins. He put his spurs into the horse, and Albrecht had a moment to turn around to take in the fading scene as the horse’s speed and his own encroaching darkness took him away. Receding into the night, he could see seven riders clustered around the form of Lord Haldris, who was attempting to rise. The lead rider took his hood off, and Albrecht had only a moment of shock to realize the rider was no he... but a she. [/QUOTE]
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