The Begining

[Kickstarted and Running 965]

 

King Maric sat tall and proud upon his horse at the head of a great army. Looking to the Kö*** Voron, now aged on the outside a glance to his eyes would show the fire of a man hungry for blood and vengeance.

 

 

A horde of knights, men-at-arms, archers, peasants, soldiers all the same. Organization and synchronization was formed between them as they looked to the edge of the road, a massed group with no order marched, a dozen tattered and colorful banners flew, and soldiers- nay, conscripts with caution in their eyes but conviction moved forward, some of the insane in their ranks shouted about Adunii scum and praise to their heathen god.

 

Maric stayed stoic, he gazed across the field to the gleaming man atop his horse, a man decorated in metals and color amongst a peasant horde decorated in filth. Roy Carrion, regent. He was a worthy foe, and a brilliant mind. He helped toppled the Chivay dynasty, a worthy accomplishment. Perhaps once they could have fought together, but fate ordained this day and only a fool fights fate.

 

To his left he saw Lord Briarwood, a valiant man and a fierce warrior, and Edmund Horen, a man fighting for the honor of his forefathers and to put down these usurpers to the Empire. To his right was the Kö*** Voron, and Grandmaster Frederick, clad head to toe in blessed plate. He spoke to the Grandmaster "Are you and your men ready?" To which Frederick merely grunted and rode forward to his cohort of knights, his mind was focused on battle, not niceties.

 

The Hochmeister Mirtok, or a pretender, screamed "CLADE TEUTONICA!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

 

The Kö*** chuckled "Herr Frederick ist nicht vone zu speak vhen battle ist before him." and he was right. The knights stood silent with the assembled army, columns with shield and spear and sword and axe, all together as one defying force to the Carrion dynasty.

 

Ser Valois stood at  the rear of the column, he gave a shout which lost meaning over the distance but the passion was there. The meaning was there. Defiance was what his voice had in it. No other word. Defiance. The men assembled, slowly at first, but did start. 'Thud thud thud.' It was gradual, but it was there 'thud thud thud." And it grew faster, and louder 'thud thud thud,' it was the sound of weapons on shields, 'thud thud thud,' the best increased and the army  did it together 'thud thud thud.'

 

 

Maric, the Storm King, raised his blade, and lowered it to the force before them. With such the noise reached it's peak and cries erupted from the defying forces, as they marched forward, 'thud thud thud' as the boots rocked the earth.

 

 

'Thud thud thud' the sound of hooves and boots, weapons on shields 'thud thud thud' as flags and banners fluttered, fighting a battle against the wind 'thud thud thud' as the armies broke the distance before a final shout "Show them the mercy they showed us!"

 

The noise stopped for a second, two? Not even that, but it felt forever. Then as soon as it seemed to be never ending and slow, the cries of defiance echoed around the valley, and the armies assembled charged the Carrion force who charged at the defying army.

 

Blade met blade, brother killed brother, and axe hewed shield but it was muted, all he head was 'thud thud thud' the dull throbbing of his heart, the battle raged.

 

A flank from the caves, men charges and fell, but cut down hundreds for every one lost. The Regent fell, Roy Carrion lost his footing and was slain in a Melee before the monks took him. Maric watched and grimaced, this war mad soldiers of them all.

 

'Thud thud thud' as the men cheered, the carrion men turning and running. It had ended but it didn't feel over. It had just begun.

 

 

The thud of his heart was there, drowning out the white noise.

 

Thud thud thud.

 

Crows descended upon the carrion that lay on the battlefield.

 

[Galendar 631]

Ser Valois holds his stern expression, helmet tucked below his right arm as the sun rises over the blood soaked mountainside.

 

"The only thing to celebrate here is no more men died than this."

[susitsu 871]

Lucas Black smirked Catholically as he stood over the wounded phisage of their leader; Roy Carrion. He watched him for a moment, considering what to do before he muttered "I'm sure you'll keep the throne warm for us," and carired on up the hill to slay more crows, allowing another to claim the glory of slitting his throat.

 

He knew it would not compare to being one of those who struck him in battle to help fell him alongside his cowardly comrades whom quickly tried to leave him behind.

[FORƎST 1312]

One of the more well-armored rebels wipes the blood from his visor as he is bathed in the morning's light.

"Today, Angren... Tomorrow Petrus."

[Lima 774]

"Dave the Pacifist" goes about the hills side picking up bolts with green feathers, taking note of each kill. 

Upon finding that six lay about the dead, he nods, and recites a prayer for their poor souls. 

[Lita 677]

Moved to the Great Library. It shall be sorted into appropriate category shortly.