|Group 38 - Chapter 3 - Darkness Awaits
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|Author:||Nightcall [ Mon Jul 30, 2012 8:12 pm ]|
|Post subject:||Group 38 - Chapter 3 - Darkness Awaits|
The hosts of the great cities of the Land of Chill have amassed in great ranks, ready to do battle against the hated High Elves. Tents and pavilions have been erected along the shoreline of the north western tip of the Shadowlands, where generals and commanders pore carefully over strategic plans and maps of invasion. This blighted and cursed part of Ulthuan has long suffered, and its gullies and ruined landscape bear the scars of battle more so than any other part of this magical land.
The army of Naggaroth has travelled far across the Great Ocean. Many have traversed the seas in a monstrous Black Ark, a giant fortress, sheared from ancient Nagarythe and held fast by sorcery. The huge vessel looms on the horizon, eying its original home like the much sought prize that it is. The true king denied so long ago his rightful place as ruler of Elvendom, ever covets his birthright.
Many other Druchii have been borne across the water in ships of the Fleet, others in corsair vessels. A fleet of sleek black vessels with purple or crimson sails made from the hide of their prisoners, sits anchored in the wide bay. Whilst the shingle beaches still fill with troops carried ashore on smaller landing boats, the ranks of the Druchii army gather in file and order.
All along the bay, standards are held aloft. Captains bark orders to their units, whilst Knights and Nobles ride among the troops under their command, mounted on armoured nauglir or other, more exotic beasts. Unnatural roars and shrieks can be heard from the southern end of the beach where a handful of Beastmasters wrestle control over a caged hydra, goading the many-headed monster into hateful fury.
Today is the day the fist of Malekith strikes and hammers down the Griffon Gate, making the way into Ellyrion. Tension is high, yet so is the excitement. Offerings are made to Khaine, the Lord of Murder by frenzied witches, whilst sorceresses invoke dark rites to secure victory and undo the protective magic of their weak kin of Ulthuan.
There is much death to be reaped this day.
And this is where you find yourselves. At the moment, you won't have met. You stand within the host, armed and ready to do battle. The orders are yet to be given; you are getting ready for the fight to come. It is early morning and the army is building itself up proper before the invasion begins.
((OOC: Welcome to group 38! Please stop by the OOC thread >>link<< to see profiles, rules, maps, etc. All chatter to go in OOC thread, but the odd comment is fine in this one.))
Asilah Bloodhowl [Zacharius]
Cade Thanal (True Name: Gaelus Stormscythe) [Jcitalia4]
Nathra Severain [Minigrift]
Heldrana Doomtide (Deceased)
Khitai N'essad (Deceased)
Kailleth Blackthorn (Deceased)
|Author:||Jcitalia4 [ Tue Aug 07, 2012 11:05 pm ]|
Gaelus kicked at the rat who so boldly approached him fishing for scraps on the docks as he sat on a barrel idly thinking about his next move. It had been well over a year since his escape from his old life amongst the well. He had signed on with a selection of various troupes taking on various tasks. Knowing he was only learning this way of life, the amount of risk he allowed was reduced initially. Tracking down escaped slaves, minor hit and run tasks and the like. More recently he had started to test his skills more. Joining groups on the hunt to capture strange and terrifying to increase the druchii beastmaster's menageries counted amongst his more recent efforts. Confident he was starting to get the hang of the life of a rank and file and his chosen weapons he knew it was time his next challenge. How else would he gain what he sought without a continued, though calculated, challenge?
Time to try my hand at raiding, I'd say. What better way to find my fortune?
Resolutely, he stood up from his roost and wandered down to a place he knew well in the docks that always had a few ships looking to bolster their ranks. As he reached his destination he noticed a crowd of a various sorts around table set up. He leaned over to another watching the group.
What's this then?
The elf turned to him, mouth held in a sneer by a scar across his face. Gaelus decided that he wasn't truly sneering at him, else he have had reason to be upset.
Haven't been around recently have you, youngblood. The witchking's going at it again. A muster has been called around around the lands grabbing every able bodied druchii in a further attempt to secure his rightful crown
Ulthuan. They mean to retake Ulthuan. Gaelus grinned from this news. The lands of old Nagarythe, the lands rightfully belong to the druchii before the Usurper stole it away from them millenia ago. They mean to take it back. Gaelus smiled to himself.
And with it, all the land and pillaged loot that was rightfully theirs
No time like the present. He said to the scarred veteran and joined the line of recruits.
At the end of the line he halted slightly. There, face to face with him at the muster, was a face he knew well. A face he had seen several times at the courts of the nobles. He debated backing away and disappearing into the shadows, hoping he went unnoticed when the familiar face addressed him directly.
Gaelus stopped. His mind raced to find his words. Well what?, he replied, immediately cursing himself at such a reply.
Well are you gonna sign your name or continue to stand there and waste my time commoner! We've got an army to form here!
Commoner!, he thought to himself. I'll strip your skin and wear it as a tunic once I gain my rightful place for such a statement, he vowed. Then he breathed a sigh of relief, he didn't recognize him. That man always was a bit simple. Smiling to himself he penned his name - Cade Thanal.
He was put into a company of corsairs. The trip on the ship was quick and uneventful, the days filled with drill and weapon's practice. The rocking of the boat did little to help cade's aim but with the skilled tutelage of his new unit's leadership, his aim improved. He learned well from his fellows the use of handbow and sword. His unit's purpose was to pepper an enemy repeatedly moderate distance before finding an opening on the flank to support one of the larger druchii units. They also taught him the usage of netting to prevent escape while in the throngs of combat. He did well to be accepted from his comrades. Mimicking closely their observed mannerisms, and quickly behaving like he had had the sea legs of a weathered corsair. This did well to hide the fact that this was all very new to him and his fellows took him in thinking he was just as seasoned in their way of life as he.
He snapped to from his revelry. He now stood there in the middle of the rank and file on the beaches of old Ulthuan. The ground dark underneath him. He breathed in the air, so warm compared to the cold, unforgiving climate of Naggaroth. The air tingled on his arms and with every breath, the natural magical winds that blew about the isle. This would be his moment. He looked down checking both of his chosen weapons, one last look to ensure they were in serviceable order. His motion did not go unnoticed.
Cade! Eyes front!, barked his sergeant. He looked up ahead of him, the mighty host of the witch king all around. Yes, this was indeed his moment he thought as he grinned.
Standing waiting orders
OOC: sorry, shop i was in was closing shop so i had to hurry the ending of the post!
Edit: seeing as there was no mod post by the time I had returned to the library I was able to finish this post
|Author:||Minigrift [ Wed Aug 08, 2012 12:41 pm ]|
Amidst the army being amassed groups of soldiers sat preparing themselves for the coming battle. Nathra sat with a half dozen druchii, common soldiers in the same armour and heraldry, warriors from the watchtowers drafted into service. They sat with grim faces, eating their last meal before the battle or preparing their equipment for the nineteenth time. Conversation was sparse. The shade had sat there since early morning, slowly eating the uncooked meat which she had prepared with herbs.
The soldiers were an incurious bunch, for which Nathra was grateful. She managed to pass herself off as a mercenary to any who asked, then offering them some raw meat, they would mutter and shake their heads. Her sword remained sheathed with a cloth tied around it's pommel to hide the Rune of Severain, the mark of her House, though the common soldiers were hardly known for their wisdom or intelligence, the shade wished for no one to guess who she really was.
Nathra hoped that none of the ranking officers questioned her too closely, for she was here by shady means in an unofficial capacity. "I was bored and wanted some fun" was hardly a commendable reason for going to war, and given to a 'superior' would very likely have her made an example of. She had sneaked aboard and stowed herself away on one of the larger ships carrying mercenaries and other sordid characters, and for the duration of the voyage remained as inconspicuous as possible. Which, because of her looks, was difficult and any number of unsavoury characters dared, drunk and sober, to get comfortable with the lady in their midst, they soon learned the folly of their audacity with a knee in the groin and a headbutt to the face - the rest soon learned not to bother her.
The soldiers were waiting for the call to arms, which would be soon. Nathra was simply waiting for the battle to begin.
Waiting for the battle to begin.
|Author:||dreadlord7476 [ Wed Aug 08, 2012 6:28 pm ]|
Kailleth waited as the Druchii slowly rooted around in his Armour for his purse, Kailleth watched the other worriers as they where prepping their gear and running off to find there please in one of the formations, Kailleth glared at any one who noted his plan black shield and armour, waiting for someone to challenge his presents in a the camp, “you shouldn’t be here, if one of the officers sees a mercenary walking auround our camp they’ll skin you for trespassing” the Druchii said still looking for his coins
“then you should hurry up and give me the silver you owe me” Kailleth snarled under his breath
“Im good for the coin just see me after the advance”
“You know what’s harder than getting money from a poor loser like you… getting money from a dead loser” Kailleth said with a grin, “now my coins…” the Druchii shifted his gaze scanning from left to right as he produced 5 silver coins from his armour and slid them in to Kailleth’s palm,
Kailleth wade the coins for a moment and then slid them into his robes, the other Druchii slung his crossbow over his shoulder and turned to join his squad saying as he left “next time the dice are going to bite your boney arre”
Kailleth snorted as he walked from the camp heading for the left flank of the bag edge train where the small band of mercenaries he had signed with before sailing with the fleet,
|Author:||Carathyle maveric [ Thu Aug 09, 2012 8:12 am ]|
With her steel boot on the edge of the wall of a ruined building of ancient times, and her face directed at the mountain passage in front of the shores they landed upon, Irrileth took a good gaze of the promised land, and breathed in the fresh, warm air to fill up her lungs. "So pure... So warm." She whispered, slightly edging toward the philosophical. She wrapped the slender fingers of her left hand around the sword's grip as her shield sat on her back. The black-steel gauntlet of the feminine warrior reflected a small amount of light, as the sun shone on her pale skin. "I bet these wannabe elves don't know what luck they have." A mutter emerged from the back of her throat as she gazed toward the trees in the far distance, some dead, some very much alive.
The battlefield of ancient times, how refreshing. I'm already excited to feel the rush of battle with our dreaded kin. A grin took hold of the Witch Elf prodigy, as she looked around at the army that their mighty king has assembled. So many young, so many will parish, and so many blood will flow. Let's hope enough for my bottle to contain, I'd hate to see the blood of both Asur and Druchii getting spilled on the soil, it ruins the taste.
A large group of warriors marched around, and Irrileth sat down on the low wall, looking at a couple of the warriors with their helmets on. The grin on the girl's face disappeared the moment she realized what a helmet wouldn't do to her hair, My hair is nice, long, and straight. I'd kill the person that wants to can my head into one of those things.
She grasped the bottle suspended from her belt, looking through the clear glass, before shaking the bottle from left to right, mixing the blood and plasma back together. She grasped firm hold of the cork in the mouth of the bottle, and pulled it out, before placing it against her lips and tilting the overall bottle upward. The mercury red liquid slowly flowed between her lips, and when her thirst was lessened, she tilted the bottle back, pushing the cork into it once more. I need a refill any time soon, the aftermath of the next battle will do... I'll just drain a poor warrior from his blood, don't think anyone would mind. The witch grinned devilish as a couple of streams of blood emerged from the corners of her lips, before she swallowed it down. Running her tongue across her teeth to clean them, she smiled at all the warriors that were assembled within sight, thinking about how much blood they would case. Perhaps Malekith should reward those who kill a general, or a commanding officer and has proof of it with something luxurious, that might raise moral of all.
Irrileth will just wait and have fun at the expense of others, while keeping her dignity to herself obviously. One does not willingly approach a Warrior of the Temples now, would they?
|Author:||Nightcall [ Thu Aug 09, 2012 7:57 pm ]|
The clouds rolled across the sky, the little light that broke through cast long shafts onto the desolate landscape of ruined Nagarythe. The place was gloomy and brooding, much like the nomadic folk that still dwelt here. A crisp wind blew in from the sea, pulling the standards and flags of the gathered Druchii, tugging cloaks, and tousling unbound hair.
Near the centre of the gathered army, atop a hillock near the general's pavilion, an anguished scream broke the chanting of a blood ritual, a hag calling to Khaine as she triumphantly ripped the heart from her victim and held it aloft, the prisoner staring wide-eyed at the spectacle as his life ebbed away. Shortly after, his corpse was dragged from the make-shift altar, as the hag cast her offering into a large bronze cauldron, that hissed as the heart sank into the boiling blood within. She pointed her sacrificial dagger at the witch elves around her, calling out to them. 'Sisters, Khaine's appetite has been roused by our offerings. Yet His thirst rages for more! Come, paint yourselves with this blessed blood and drink of His blessings. Our holy work is to be done.' Elated cries and shrieks of praise rose up around the cauldron as the lust for murder was aroused.
Further down the line, a sergeant barked orders to his men as he arranged them into formation ready for inspection. 'Cade, eyes front!' He marched along the front rank, glaring at a soldier who was adjusting his helm. The rabble before him had been hastily assembled. Amongst the veterans stood young warriors, children of aspiring Houses perhaps... or fugitives. Each armed with a repeating handbow, a clip of 10 bolts, and a sword, they would be used to harry the enemy's advance.
A war horn blew, rousing Druchii mercenaries to their feet. Near the baggage train at the left flank, they had been occupied with preparing their gear and armour. Some were entertaining themselves with games of dice, or tales of bravado. 'On your feet!' roared a noble, mounted on a fierce-looking cold one. This was Lord Chillbane, a noble of Hag Graef. In overall command of the mercenary units, he would give them their orders, then wait at a safe distance with his unit of cold one knights, only joining the battle when the time was right for a charge. 'Get up, you layabouts. Do you want to be fed to a nauglir?' he sneered. The mercenaries were shoved into a large unit. Spears made up the first two ranks, whilst those with hand weapons and projectiles were put behind.
Cade, you are in a unit of 40 warriors, 8 across by 5 deep. Leading you is a sergeant who will march with your unit. All are armed with handbows and shortswords, and will be providing a ranged attack at first against the High Elves, before being close enough to enter one-on-one combat. You are yet to march out, the order has not been given.
Kailleth and Nathra, you are in Lord Chillbane's unit. It numbers 60 druchii, 10 across by 6 deep. You are in the third rank, behind 2 lines of spearmen. The order to march has not been given yet. Lord Chillbane does not know of Nathra's shady skills, he probably hasn't paid her much attention and assumes she is part of the mercenary rabble.
Irrileth, the Hag has summoned all the Witch Elves to daub themselves with the contents of the cauldron and drink the sacrificial blood prior to battle. You will be going in as a unit, but not just yet.
Jcitalia4 – Cade has a clip of 10 bolts for his repeater handbow. Please add this to your sig, and each time you make a shot, remove one from the number. You'll have a chance to replenish when the story allows. Could you also add your class type to your sig? Thanks.
Carathyle – Please can you add your class type to your sig as well.
I'll provide a plan of the host's formation with my next post.))
|Author:||Carathyle maveric [ Fri Aug 10, 2012 5:36 pm ]|
With gloomy eyes, Irrileth looked at the witch elves that had gathered around her and at the hag managing the Cauldron, performing the blood famous rite of war. Just... great. My mother has a thing in this as always. For the first time in... forever, I want to actually get shot at by archers or crossbowmen. That way, I can separate myself a tad bit easier from the group that way. Besides, I'll stand in the back anyways, let those blood-fueled numbheads... Wait, is that Kranth? That biatch!
One by one, the witches walked toward the cauldron, each dipping their goblet in the red liquid, each drinking the blood with lust, and each of them slowly turned nuts. From a tower window, it was absolutely amusing to see all those witches run across town, slaughtering, kidnapping and sacrificing on Death Night, but being labeled as 'one of them' didn't suit Irrileth, her heart belonged to the way of a warrior, not one of Assassins, Executioners and Witch Elves.
She uncorked the bottle around her waist again, looking into the opening at the top into the bottle. "Damn you, I shall waste my final bit. Ah well, I'll just bite one of those High Elves in the neck as I impale him or her on Grimsever." she muttered as she placed her lips against the bottle and took a good sip.
The warm weather of the Ulthuan Beaches wasn't something Irrileth was used to, as she quickly field-stripped her armor, ridding her body of the warm Khaitan. Result after she pulled the armour back on her upper body and strapped it tight, one decently clothed Irrileth with a visible belly, bare arms other then the gauntlet on her right hand, and the cold steel against her chest. She looked around, noticing a couple of stray Warriors gazing at the sight. Irrileth wasn't used to people watching her, especially not after she swiftly changed herself into a bit... cooler outfitting, and the fact that two minor warriors were even thinking about her was enough for her to blush. "Scurry off you vermin! Or I'll sacrifice you in Khaine's name!" She yelled at the two warriors who were shocked by the sudden reaction. The two warriors swiftly ran back to their company, no doubt they'd get on their heads from superiors for being late.
Bloody low-lives. I can't understand how they can bare the thought of everyone looking at their nearly naked bodies. Irrileth wrapped her arm around her exposed belly, before returning to the matter at hand. With a cupped hand, she poured the remaining blood out of her bottle and smeared it on her exposed skin, painting it the way her mother taught her to. "First thing on the to-do list when we get back, kill those two warriors, drain their blood, and enjoy the night with Asur slaves if possible." she muttered, as she joined with the blood-fueled witches in their main core, being the only one to bare the form of armor on her figure.
Illireth will "fake" the baptism in a way religiously allowed, and she'll do it out of sight before joining the main core in the back ranks, ready to move out.
|Author:||Minigrift [ Sat Aug 11, 2012 2:26 am ]|
She had become as immovable as the stone on which she sat and, for a time, nothing awoke her from her reverie. The call to arms had sounded around the camp but Nathra remained oblivious, so deep in thought was she. A ghastly smell wafted up her sensitive nostrils and the shade gagged with revulsion, snapping her out of the day dream which she was so engrossed in.
Quickly looking around, she could see all manner of soldiers bustling around and assuming formations. Even the mercenaries were active. Then she noticed the nauglir not ten foot away, staring at her with it's steely one-eyed gaze, it's pungent breath blowing out like smoke from a volcano. It must smell the meat in my pack, but the flesh on my bones would make a far more delicious meal. Atop the cold one rode an elf bearing the heraldry of Hag Graef on his armour and cloak, his attention was intent of a group of mercenaries still looking haggard and tired, no doubt that they had been asleep just ten seconds ago. 'Get up, you layabouts. Do you want to be fed to a nauglir?'
The raven-haired beauty silently cursed her inattention. As soon as the call to arms was heard, her plan was to sneak away and follow the army in a more shade-like fashion as being roped unwillingly into a regiment was not an ideal situation for Nathra. Alas, it was too late to sneak away now, if the Noble of Hag Graef noticed her...
She slunk away silently and soon recognised some of the fellows she had sat with, Nathra decided to follow them and before long she was standing in line with nine other druchii. Spearmen were already arranged at the front and the mercenaries were just lining up behind them. First chance I get, I'll sneak away for some looting and pillaging.
Waiting for the battle to begin.
|Author:||Jcitalia4 [ Sat Aug 11, 2012 12:11 pm ]|
The feeling was exhilarating. The anticipation of a battle to come. There was a sense of nervousness mixed with excitement. Gaelus's senses drank it all in and being in the front rank of his unit made it all the more possible to see and feel it from the warhost gathered. It was a feeling familiar to him. The same feeling he felt when he escaped from his home situation and started anew. He knew such a feeling brought on new beginnings and he drank it all it. This was his new beginning.
In his mind raced images of the battle to come. His was a unit designed to pepper an enemy with bolt fire in support of the larger blocks and melee once the bolts had sufficiently reduced their enemies flanks. He pictured his unit in action. Asur falling by the ranks, flanks exposed but still attent at the larger units in front of them. He saw his unit charge, him at the fore. His unit's swords will sweep, cut and lunge as one with disciplined efficiency. The netters in the unit will mute their response and prevent their retreat. It will be glorious.
Well... that would be ideal., thought Gaelus.
He wasn't so naive not to know that the mind's eye's vision of challenges to come almost never rang true. Battle was chaotic, even for the skilled druchii and asurii and things will fall to instinct after the first few melees. This didn't bother Gaelus, however. He knew his current imaginings did well to help his focus, if nothing else. If he could outwit and outmaneuver his stronger and more skilled siblings, then what were a few of his hated cousins?
He stared out about it. Nearby was a larger group of warriors. An anvil sized unit. Some pompous noble danced about in front of it on his nauglir yelling something to his troops. He looked at him in hatred. I don't know why, but i really want you to die today.... Also nearby, the brides of khaine danced about in their maddened revelry. He shuddered when looked at them. He was never a devout and he didn't want to accidentally cross paths with one of their type lest their maddening fury not recognize him for one of druchii.
He brought thoughts about what his role would be in the battle. There would surely be death amongst his unit. This naturally didn't bother him for none of them he counted amongst his friends, not even friendly. They had already taught him what they knew and worn out their use. No, what he was considering required him to prove himself this battle. For he knew, the greater spoils of this campaign would fall upon the leaders, the revered and the heroic. He didn't consider himself the heroic type but he had proper motivation. Motivation to return to Karond kar and take from his family what is, maybe not rightfully, but what will be his!
Ready to march
|Author:||Nightcall [ Sun Aug 12, 2012 7:53 am ]|
'The enemy were massed at the base of the gate, my lord.' The shade reported, his figure hunched before the finely clad General within the command pavillion. The eldest son of a powerful noble household of Har Ganeth, Ghol Thaekan had been tasked with commanding the forces here whilst Malekith devised a counter attack. A precarious role, he was in no position to decline the Drachau's offer when summoned and instructed to command this invading force. If his host was successful, his status and reputation would be elevated, his House gaining power and wealth beyond his wildest dreams. Dark Lord Ruerl might even make him Vaulkhar. He knew full well what would happen however, if he disappointed the Witch King.
'Where are they now?'
'Less than a league away. They have crossed the river Naganthe in cover of darkness.' The shade took a step back, his exit blocked by two heavily armoured guards at the tent entrance.
'Would you care to explain why this was not reported earlier?' the lord queried casually as he was passed a steaming goblet by a raven haired sorceress.
'We were attacked... those damned shadow warriors... only I and Taniz made it back, and he died a few moments ago from his wounds.'
The general studied the shade for a moment, before drinking deeply of the draft and passing the cup back to the sorceress. 'I see. Whilst the information you have provided is valuable, your tardiness has cost us greatly.' He threw a nod at one of the guards who grabbed the shades arms and held them behind his back. The shade struggled, then realising his efforts were futile, met the gaze of the Druchii lord.
'Kill him, then sound the call to battle. We need to show an example to the others of how such failure is rewarded.' He instructed with a sadistic smile.
The shade's choked scream was all but cut off by the blasts of warhorns as each regiment sounded the signal to march.
And we're off! Marching south to meet the High Elf forces. I will tell you when they are in sight.
|Author:||Jcitalia4 [ Sun Aug 12, 2012 12:19 pm ]|
A sharp scream blew across the camp from the direction of the general's tent. Gaelus glanced a quick look in its direction. The Har Ganeth noble was not without his opulence. Typical he thought. He looked at the tent in disgust. Not because he thought it was an incorrect use of resources, but because he believed he should be the one in such tents.
He bit back his growing envy as he realized the scream was one of terror and death. He shuddered to think of what unfortunate soul had attracted the ire of their lord-general. The nobles of Har Ganeth always were a bit more quick to spill blood for blood's sake. What do you expect from a city devoted to the cult of Khaine? He wondered what other vices he might have and how such knowledge could help him. He reminded himself that he would have to make some subtle inquiries later on in the campaign should he find himself in that scream's source's unfortunate position.
Ya hear that ya salts! bark his sergeant, That's the reward that awaits you for failure. Mind this if you find your courage faltering. Cowardice will not go unpunished!
neither does stupidity... Gaelus thought. The sergeant might be a bit too brazen for his own good but he knew his stuff well enough. Their unit would prevail this day.
The sound of horns echoed across the camp.
That's it men! Dress ranks! His fellows all shuffled into position. Tinkering with their gear, giving it all one last cursory look. His sergeant, an elf named Saulk, walked his line addressing any soldier he might have need to.
Maneth! Tight up those straps! You don't want your armor getting knocked loose in the middle of battle! Huneun! Why in Khaine's name are your spare bolts facing that way in your quiver! I've told you a hundred times that it damages the fletchings! I shoulda left you back in Naggaroth you useless maggot now fix it for the last damned time! Cade! Wake up! I swear if I catch you daydreaming like some green recruit one more time you're gonna be polishing the entire unit's armor after all this. And so it went. Nearly every soldier had some thing said to them. Gaelus understood what Saulk was doing. He was giving the soldiers a distraction. Giving them something to fear worse than the battle to come, his boot up their back passage. It was a clever trick. One Gaelus would have to remember.
The unit's lordling appeared at the front, some minor noble he didn't bother to get to know well. He looked the sort that would be the first cut down in a melee. Standard's forward! He yelled. Forward! The sergeants echoed in unison and boots moved out.
They marched towards their hated kin. His ambitions and envy's died as a feeling almost as old as their race bubbled to the surface. Hatred. A profound hatred. Today would see him wreak vengeance upon the asur for taking what was theirs. The battle was upon them.
Marching out to meet the battle
|Author:||Carathyle maveric [ Sun Aug 12, 2012 3:59 pm ]|
The screams of the reporting shade coming from the General's tent gave even the blood-drinking, cold-hearted, Witch Elf wannabe Irrileth the shivers. Her feature was saddened, At the very least you should have let me kill him, I'd use his blood for something useful. Or at least sacrifice him instead of just killing him! Her eyes toward the tent, Irrileth wasn't really convenient being compared to bloody Witch Elves, even though most of the girls were quite nice once you get to know them, or when they're not high on drugs.
"Irrileth! Join the ranks! Or would you prefer to be served as an offer to Khaine?!" The hag of the invasion fleet exclaimed in anger, as she noticed the below average age, armoured form of Irrileth, who turned her head annoyed.
"Stay your tongue, hag. You have no idea what mother would do if you keep on chanting your ill-manners toward me. I am by all means a warrior, not a witch elf. I'm cursed with a mother of the temple, but I am, in no possible way, ever going to allow anyone to consider me a Witch elf!" Irrileth called out right, gazing into the eyes of the hag, feeling superior in every possible way. To her, the drugs were only a pathetic excuse to cause bloodshed. A Druchii's way was through sane behavior, unmoved by drugs or hypnotic means.
"Then why have you drank from the cauldron and painted yourself?" The hag replied, seeing it as blasphemy.
"I'm still a member of the Temple, I'm just not the average ones. Besides that, it's not the cauldron I took the blood from." Irrileth stepped back from the ranks and stepped up behind the entire unit, standing their as a solo soldier. "I'll tag along. But don't expect me to behave like your blood-crazed witches. Blood should be drank for leisure, not for insanity."
Fall out of line. Help out when needed.
|Author:||Minigrift [ Mon Aug 13, 2012 9:20 pm ]|
More mercenaries were lining up behind her and the other nine Druchii in her rank. The elf next to her, who was maybe half Nathra's age, kept glancing at her furtively, a flush expression on his face each time. She flashed him an irritated glare. "Eyes front, soldier." The boy looked annoyed before his expression changed into a scowl, but he didn't look at her again. This one will die today, like so many others. Such a waste.
A shrill scream pierced the air momentarily before the sounds of numerous horns sounded around the battle line. Nathra knew that sound well - it was the scream of someone dying painfully, the sound of someone who had failed. The sounds of war-horns and the like were less well known for the beautiful shade had never before marched to war with so many of her kin.
Their sergeant had spent much time posturing out front and making sure everyone got in line. He had caught Nathra's eye and his brow furrowed briefly, but he did not comment in the stranger in the ranks. He didn't recognise her and likely didn't care that she was here at all. But when the horns sounded he stepped into line just like everyone else, and would soon give the order to march.
Marching to war.
|Author:||Nightcall [ Tue Aug 14, 2012 7:21 am ]|
A league. The distance a man could walk in an hour. With the urgency of defending Ulthuan behind them, the hated High Elves could be upon them in even less time.
The Druchii host had been marching for less than half an hour, their advance hampered by uneven ground and riven gullies. Several times, the units had to rearrange and file through narrow paths; the crossbow units standing guard, ever wary of an ambush.
The going was slow, made more difficult by the foul tempered hydra, whom the Beastmasters whipped and lured through each ravine, much to the monster's protest. By the time it reached the Asur forces, it would be well and truly ready to unleash its rage.
As the host marched one unit at a time through a particularly long ravine, flayed corpses could be seen suspended from branches of some of the trees by their ankles. General Thaekan observed the grisly display. 'So that is what happened to those Shades...'
It was well known that the Shadow Warriors, guerilla fighters of Nagarythe were particularly fond of mutilating any Druchii they found, and left as a warning to any others that dare tread on their soil. None hated the Dark Elves as much as they. The Asur looked upon their kinsmen with distrust, thinking them barely less savage than the Druchii. Yet for centuries they had prevented advances to the Inner Kingdoms, and for that their cruel ways could be tolerated. 'Keep a watch for those feral scum!' the general called.
The host is moving across the land and is currently in a narrow ravine. The units are having to travel one by one. At the head is the general and his guards. Then the Cold One Knights, followed by the other units of the host. The Shades are scattered along the sides, ready to slay any would be ambushers, whilst some of the crossbow carrying swordsmen are stood at strategic points, keeping watch. The war hydra is at the rear of the army.
|Author:||Jcitalia4 [ Tue Aug 14, 2012 9:38 am ]|
Gaelus eye's the edges of the ravine warily. Their unit had been formed into loose columns, almost in a skirmishing formation in order to provide overwatch as the warhost navigated the treacherous patch. If the dreaded asur were to lay an ambush on them, this would be as good a place as any.
He recalled the mutilated corpses of the shades hanging from the trees. Barely a gentler death than probably befell their surviving comrade in the generals tent not a short time ago. Their nagarythe blooded kin were ever savage towards druchii, who shared their ancestry. He knew that his unit could very well be trading arrows and crossing blades soon. A good death would be better than capture, Gaelus reminded himself. This steeled his resolve. If it came to it, he would fight til the end.
Bit by bit they made their way, the general and his nobles up front. The bulk in the middle and the roars of the beasts bringing up the rear. Hopefully its roars would hasten the host's march. He wanted to be clear of this deathtrap as soon as possible.
Steady boys, watch the edges for silhouettes. You probably won't see them coming but we just might get lucky, Saulk said in an even voice.
Handbow raised and ready, walking in a loose formation in overwatch
|Author:||Minigrift [ Tue Aug 14, 2012 7:49 pm ]|
Nathra, still thinking of the idiocy of her situation, followed her unit wherever it went. Across country, up hills, down a ravine which was the perfect place for an ambush if the enemy were so inclined - the druchii commanders knew this, no doubt, and had taken precautions, but would it be enough?
Her unit stumbled under hanging shades, which had been killed and hung out as a warning to other dark elves. A warning which the army was inevitably ignoring. That could have been me strung up there. Perhaps it was fated that I never sneaked away when I had the chance? Not that I would be stupid enough to get captured and quartered.
When her unit stopped to rearrange itself into a more comfortable formation in order to bypass a choking point in the ravine Nathra sighed heavily, wishing she had stayed back in Naggaroth. She had never marched to a war before and had no reason to do so, and she had hated every second since she stood off her ship.
The female cared not one iota about their kings five-thousand year old grudge against the 'hated kin', and shouldn't have to let his hatred inconvenience her and her ambitions. Now she was marching to a stupid, pointless war where they were all likely to die. Rash decisions often led to bad consequences and sneaking aboard that mercenary vessel was one act of spontaneity which she was seriously beginning to regret.
Marching along in a melancholy mood.
|Author:||Carathyle maveric [ Wed Aug 15, 2012 12:06 am ]|
As much as the upcoming bloodshed had Irrileth excited, the same amount of the same reason had her worried. The blooddrinker, as the witch elves started to call her a long time ago, wasn't excited to see so many young specimens of Druchii, most of which were even too young to pass on their genes to the next generation. However, due to her separation of the main group of witch elves, not willing to march alongside them, Irrileth walked a step faster. Her bewitched appearance caused by the bloody swipes were often enough for the sergeants and warriors to keep their mouths shut. And all who started talking, was met with a harsh; "You seem good enough, shall we spare the Asur the effort and just cut you down right here?! I'd love to have your blood as a reminder with me." which most often shut them up.
As she strolled around unsupervised, she quickly saw what appeared to be a shade among the mercenary groups, which was quite odd considering the shade was female. The trees weren't satisfactory as well, but it sufficed. Seeing the shades all bleeding, Irrileth couldn't resist one of the major temptations in her life, as well as her main hobby; drinking the blood of a live or dead shade. The blood tasted different then that of nobles and commoners. The taste of the wilds that the Autarii grew up in was coded all the way into their blood. They were literally the best scouts in the Druchii society, and the best guides in the woods, thanks to their natural abilities in the woods.
Looking around to make sure the least of soldiers saw her, she quickly moved toward one of the bodies and pressed her lips against one of the many of the open wounds, sucking the blood out of the wound a bit, before removing her lips again. The witch elf company was soon to arrive, and whether she liked it or not, she had to join their ranks.
Their back ranks are the ones that call to me. They'll just randomly charge anyway. Irrileth thought, as she placed her lips on a separate wound sucking another mouthful of blood from the corpse. The delight of tasting blood from the corpse was just unimaginable, where most would be disgust, Irrileth knew that in blood valuable proteins and water were kept. It was the ultimate survival food, yet if new to it all, it gives you stomach aches, and could even kill you. She quickly stopped the seemingly vampire actions as she realized her group was coming, and swiftly stepped back in line, wiping the blood off her lips. Talk about a tasty little snack.
Just march along, with sometimes the escape of her longing for blood.
OOC: The statement in this post that blood contains water and proteins isn't completely true. The red blood cells do contain proteins, and considering blood is a liquid, it does actually count as a water supply when needed. Do mind that, if you drink blood(unless you're Irrileth who has adapted to it), you'll get a rather bad stomach ache, and possible STD considering some run through your blood such as AIDS. Before you ask, I'm assuming that AIDS doesn't exist in the Old World, so let's hope STD's overall don't exist there.
|Author:||Nightcall [ Wed Aug 15, 2012 7:31 am ]|
It seemed all were expecting an ambush that never came. This seemed to spread more unease than if their enemies had shown themselves. 'Cowards!' hissed the Hag as she and the Witches marched up out of the end of the ravine through the dust trails of the heavier troops. Those under her command were restless and foul tempered, as they had worked themselves up for a lethal dance that had not happened.
As General Thaekan and his command group led the host up a gentle rise, their target slowly came into view. At first, only the tops of banners. Then the tips of spears glinting in the gloom. The General allowed himself a moment's pause as the full force of the Asur was revealed.
Stood only half a mile away, halfway up a gentle hill, there were about a thousand of the weaklings. To the left and right, it looked like horse cavalry. In from each of those, stood two units of Chracian warriors, bearing fierce axes. In the centre, a unit of finely clad warriors, carrying swords and spears. In front of these units stood a line of archers, maybe two hundred. In front of the archers stood a line of shield carrying spearmen to defend the bowmen. Clad in white and blue it looked like the Nagarythi had gained aid from the forces of Tor Elyr in Ellyrion.
The Druchii forces were not outnumbered, and the General whispered to one of his retainers who rode down to the leaders of each regiment to give an order. The Druchii warhorns blew again, and the ranks drew themselves into line along the hill they stood, facing their enemies. Curses and death oaths were spat at the High Elves, shields and spears rattled, as the Druchii eagerly awaited the command to charge. Before each unit, their commanding officer stood, or sat atop his mount, waiting for the signal.
Then from above, there was the shrill cry of an eagle. General Thaekan was among many who looked up, to see a male elf, clad in golden yellow riding a great eagle. The bird's wingspan must have been twenty foot across. With a call to Lileath, goddess of mercy, the elf drew up a staff and spun it in his hands, before unleashing a magical blast at the Dark Elves. It struck one of the crossbow and sword units dead centre, and the screams of the injured was met by cheers from the High Elves across the valley. Thaekan growled and raised his sword, outraged that his enemies had drawn first blood.
'Druchii, advance!' The forces marched forwards, careful to remain out of range of the High Elf archers. At the same time, the forces two sorceresses called the winds of magic, and foul powers of dhar to them, throwing curses at the enemy.
'Halt! Crossbows forward!' Came the next command. 'Load handbows, release on my command!' The noise of crossbow windings being pulled back mingled with the sounds of the repeater crossbows being pulled to the front, their crews loading deadly bolts.
Battle is about to commence. The armies are facing each other, each stood halfway up a gentle hill on opposite sides of the valley. The flatter centre is about a quarter of a mile wide (roughly 0.3 km). At the moment, only Gaelus will be affected by the commands. The attack will happen very soon. Just building up.
|Author:||Jcitalia4 [ Wed Aug 15, 2012 5:39 pm ]|
They advanced slowly through the ravine, ever wary of an attack. It never came. Gaelus smiled at their fortune. Their general clearly had missed out on a grand opportunity. At the very least, his shadow warrios could have harried their advance, thin their numbers and demoralized some of the druchii force. Unharrassed, the druchii warhost was given a new sense of confidence.
They at last saw the enemy forces, their battle lines drawn up on the hills beyond. The druchii leadership quickly assembled their forces into an appropriate formation to engage. A cry from above distracted Gaelus and much of those around him. A sudden blast of energy nearby erupted in their sister unit of crossbowmen, taking many of them to Khaine's realm. Magic. Gaelus spat in disgust. Coward, he thought as stared above at the eagle, Flying out of reach on your eagle. You'll die this day, I swear it. Though Gaelus secretly envied his power, thus his extreme hatred that had bubbled forth.
His thoughts were broken when he heard the Dreadlord bark the orders, Crossbows forward! Load handbows and release at my command!
Make ready! Shouted their Lordling, the other crossbow unit rendered momentarily combat ineffective from the eagle rider's magic. Saulk and the other sergeants echoed. The was a crackling noise as all in the unit wound their handbows for their cold barrel shot. Aim!
Gaelus is aiming at the unit nearest him awaiting the fire command, which he will do once it released for however many volleys as is directed
|Author:||Minigrift [ Thu Aug 16, 2012 12:59 pm ]|
The unit passed through the ravine with no hint of enemy in sight. Those clever Asur, they knew that was the perfect place for an ambush and knew that we would be ready for them, they'll have something more cunning planned for us... A short time later there was the glint of many spears off in the distance, then when her unit crested the ridge Nathra could plainly see the High Elf army arrayed out afore them. Or perhaps not.
The shade surveyed the opposing force from left to right. There were clearly marked units with their individual styles, much like the dark and drab army sat opposite them. Archers protected by spearmen in the centre, with cavalry and axe-wielding warriors covering the flanks. Nathra cared not who or what they were, she only cared that the Druchii would soon be killing them, that she would soon be killing them - not that she bore the Asur any specific grievance. So far the adventure had been rather dull, but now things were starting to get interesting.
A shrill shriek surrounded around the battle field, looking to her right she seen what appeared to be a gold clad person riding an eagle. He fired a magical blast and a multitude of agonised cries were heard, but Nathra could not see the carnage wrought for herself. The Asur cheered, the Druchii scowled.
"Druchii, advance!" The order was called. Nathra smiled in anticipation of the coming battle.
Ready to fight!
|Author:||Carathyle maveric [ Thu Aug 16, 2012 10:30 pm ]|
Irrileth let out a sigh as she and her entire unit of witch elves emerged from the canyon unharmed, much to her dislike. On top of that, the hag that was in control of the group seemed to be provoking Khaine's wrath rather then inspiring her forces to do his bidding. "You might be a hag, but you have no idea what Asur will do to your rather beautiful bodies. Not much, that much I can give you." she whispered, looking at the group ahead of her, still eying at the rest of the army who came to a stop in a line formation. Her eyes drawn to the front by the bright steel of the Asur warmachine, Irrileth could feel the hatred building up inside her. I never met you, and this is crazy. I love to hate you Asur, please, return that love. she thought, smiling at the mass that had assembled in front.
However, the enjoyment was short lived, as an eagle bearing a golden-yellow armored mage soared down from the sky, already wreaking havoc in their ranks. "You fool! Order the charge!" Irrileth hissed within herself, not willing to rush in and sacrifice herself to the masses of Asur.
Will wait for the initial charge, and when it happens, charge shield lifted into the masses. For the eagle, well, track it with her eyes, and jump away as soon as she sees the casting coming at her.
|Author:||Nightcall [ Fri Aug 17, 2012 5:01 pm ]|
'Release!' The order came for the crossbows to be shot. Then came the shout from the melee companies, 'Forwards, charge!' With a rousing roar and the billow of a dozen horns, the remainder of the foot troops charged towards the Asur.
As if on cue, the High Elf archers released their arrows, a rain of death falling towards the Druchii. As they charged, some had the intelligence to raise their shields. Those with more training and experience fell to one knee, covering the front line with shield, whilst the row behind them raised their shields above their heads, the arrows clattering harmlessly against the defence. Many were too slow or too stupid to defend themselves and fell, an Asur arrow through him.
The swoosh of the Druchii bolt thrower punctuated the noise of the charge as it was loaded again and again and fired into the enemy. The thick harpoon-like heads smashed into the High Elf lines, bringing down noble warriors, and brave defenders, all hated traitors to Druchii eyes.
The Asur had begun a charge of their own with the first shot of Dark Elf crossbows. The Chracian axemen were running forwards with savage cries upon their lips, whilst the warriors and spearmen marched steadily behind, pausing from time to time as the bowmen with them reloaded and shot at the Druchii.
The eagle continued to circle overhead. "This must be the Asur leading the host." the General deduced. With points from his staff at the troops below, he coordinated them with great precision. His elevated view giving him a great advantage over the nauglir riding Thaekan, who could only relay commands through yelled orders or blasts of war horn.
Lord Thaekan roared to his sorceresses. 'Get that pompous arse down.' At the same time, the bolt thrower crew raised the angle of their war engine, and began taking shots at the mage's flying mount.
The ground shook with the footfalls of elf, as the armies closed in. Both now raced onto the valley floor, and out of the sides of the High Elf army, the Horse Cavalry circled out to either side of the Druchii host.
'They aim to flank us, my lord.' uttered Thaekan's standard bearer.
'I know what they're bloody doing!' he shouted back, a look of anger on his face that caused the standard bearer to pale and grip his flag more tightly, regretting stating the obvious. 'Get that hydra ready. Cold one knights, prepare to let your beasts dine on horse flesh.'
The two armies are now clashing in to each other. You have permission to meet the enemy. Things will get more... personal... shortly!
Everyone is on the flat valley floor. The beastmasters are leading the hydra to the right side of the Druchii force, to defend and attack the High Elf cavalry charging in from this side, whilst the Cold One Knights are charging to the left side of the Druchii force to take out the other half of the High Elf cavalry. Sorceresses are focussed on blasting the eagle-riding mage to bits, as is the Bolt Thrower crew. The experienced shieldbearers had formed a "turtle" defence to protect from arrows.
|Author:||Jcitalia4 [ Sat Aug 18, 2012 5:23 pm ]|
*Thwack* was the report from Gaelus's crossbow after the order to fire was issued. The bolts zapped across the short distances between the armies at lightening speed. Several of the lined Asur fell as if they were hit by an invisible scythe. Gaelus would never really know if his bolt was one that rang true but he liked to think to himself that it did. His unit stood ready to fire again as the mechanism of his handbow slotted in the next bolt along the chamber. The unit immediately begin to attempt to position itself in support of the main forces in order to pepper and eventually countercharge the enemy.
Forwards, charge! was echoed amongst the Druchii lines and the warriors broke out into a trot towards their hated enemy. The asur loosed their volleys of arrows but the majority of the druchii seemed to remember their training and raised shields. The green amongst their number, probably excited and anxious of the coming meeting of blades, however were not so fortune as several arrows found their mark in them.
From his vantage in the front rank of his unit, Gaelus could see the Asur's methods. He studied their movements, as he was tutored during his rearings, whilst awaiting the next order to fire. He saw their mounted warriors attempting to move into a flanking position, the dreadlord aptly and correctly countering this with their heavy hitters. Hopefully the battle would be over before these skirmishes were finished.
In front, he fancied their warriors chances. Blade for blade, the druchii warriors would fell more than their hated rank and file. It was those damned lion lovers that gave Gaelus any pause. Their lifestyle and millenia of rearing in said customs resulted in them having an intimidating size compared to the average asur. Their massive axes would make short work of any defense mounted by the druchii warriors. Lastly, their cloaks hung around them, made from the skins of the lions native to their lands, made for an intimidated and protective layer much like the druchii's own sea dragon cloaks. Gaelus immediately grew envious of them at these thoughts. Such a cloak would provide much desired protection...
As if reading his own thoughts, the Lordlings orders snapped him back from his reverie, Aim for the Chracians! Make ready!
Gaelus will aim at the Chracians with his unit and fire as ordered. They are moving in a supporting position and will probably help the druchii charge where they would be most effective once the lines hit
OOC: If my assumption that the Lordling would target the Chracians is too much just let me know and I'll edit it out!
((Nightcall Edit: Nope, happy to go along with this suggestion ))
|Author:||Minigrift [ Sun Aug 19, 2012 6:48 pm ]|
Nathra could feel the anticipation in the air; the battle was about to commence. The Asur had drew first blood and Nathra suspected their commander would not take to kindly to that. She felt caged standing locked in formation as her unit was facing down the middle of the entire enemy army. If she wasn't distracted with melancholy thoughts of her own stupidity she might have been able to escape her imprisonment before it had happened. However, since there was an apparent lack of cover on the battlefield, she surmised her position was relatively safe because she could use the mercenaries to shield herself during the approach to the Asur lines.
Her unit was ordered forward and they stoically marched towards the enemy line. Asur bows peppered the unit, but the spearmen at front were well-trained and presented a shield wall to block most of the oncoming salvo. Nathra took advantage of their expertise and hid behind the spear-elf in front of her. The whistling of arrows was heard overhead then several ragged cries as some of the mercenaries welcomed the arrows upon their persons, maiming or killing the unfortunate souls.
This was over in a matter of seconds. "Forwards, charge!" The command rang across the Druchii lines just as several large, barbed bolts curved over the mercenary unit and smashed into the archers and spearmen opposite them, opening up their defences for the Druchii to strike hard. The spear-and-shield armed warriors engaged the Asur to the front, allowing the mercenaries to pour round the sides and swarm the hated enemy.
Nathra was 'stuck' behind the spearmen in front who were battling savagely. There would soon be an opportunity to strike, of that Nathra had no doubt, the shade was just waiting for an opening.
Biding her time for a suitable moment to strike.
OOC: Nightcall, please correct me if I have made too many erroneous assumptions, will happily edit my post
Next post should be much more exciting
|Author:||Carathyle maveric [ Sun Aug 19, 2012 9:42 pm ]|
Irrileth was half excited, half disappointed at the late order to attack, but it was better then nothing at all. All that was going to be done anyways, would only come a bit later. But then again, the mage on the flying rat wasn't her main problem to begin with. With the witch elves in front of her, she didn't want to meet them in her back, as they could only get this crazy when they see all that's not their nearly identical twin as a target. Fortunately the hag was easy going on the witches, sending them forth nearly immediately as the order came. Screams of anticipation and of bloodlust were let out, as the witch elves dismissed their rank system and all followed one another into combat ahead, with Lilleth just slothing behind, sticking close enough not to be targeted as a single soldier, but still far away enough not to get in the way of the poisonous blades.
Irrileth will fall in rank when there is a gap not used by the witch elves, as means to not getting herself on the poisoned daggers, or to get herself and her comrades needlessly killed. In combat, shield to back, sword to slash.
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