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[Event] The Nine Days' Battle


DAENGIE
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The Nine Days’ Battle

The Bloodying of Ikur’fiyem

♪♪♪


     Long had it been since the arrival of Zharrtýr Rykhässon and his warbands from the distant north. The fields and forests of Norland had been painted a dark crimson, and everyone with the eyes to see had come to worry about the impending trouble- even more, when their declaration of war was issued by way of a severed head. Yet, it would not be Norlandic soil that would see the first pitched conflict against these raiders from afar. In the winter months of the forty-third year of the Second Age did the war party of the Svarlandic raid-lord Gorm the Flayer arrive on the coasts of Almaris. 

 

     With boots on unfamiliar, frozen soil and separated by some distance from the main Svarling warhost, Gorm and his subordinates began a march through the freezing winds of the icy tundra, navigating frozen summits and barren planes, following the tales of the Chosen’s exploits in the west. The cold bit into the men as they marched, and many hungered, both for the thrill of battle and for a warm meal, whether that be provided by the flesh of the animals of Almaris, or the flesh of the people themselves. And then, as if by some gift from the Gods, they did spy in the hills ahead the settlement of Ikur’fiyem, home to the Fennic Remnants- but more importantly, a place to acquire much needed supplies. No Svarling would deny such a boon from the realms beyond, and so a force was sent forth to claim what was needed. Yet, this city of the north was not to be the easy target it looked to be from afar.

 

     Around midday of that fateful sun, the first sounds of conflict began to ring through the city, as a hail of arrows descended from above in an opening volley. The city, then, was consumed in conflict; its valiant defenders, the Ivae’fenn, gathered in droves to defend their home, and well over two-thousand Mali’fenn joined the fray that day, spearheads and blades gleaming in the sunlight. As the defenders rallied and got into formation, the foreign warriors came with blood-crazed berserkers and hounds of war, and with little delay did blood begin to flow. In moments, sanguine streams began filling the streets and staining the snow, as man and beast met with sharpened steel. The Svarling marauders kicked in doors, set fires and dragged loot out of any structure they could enter, and the largest among their number- the heavily armored Huskarls who had, by now, become emblematic of the Svarling menace- formed a wall of steel and shields, beginning to entrench themselves and box the defenders in. At that moment, the day began to look more than grim; it was to be a day of suffering and slaughter.

 

     The fighting carried on, through the day and into the night, and then again. For four long, grueling days did the viscera flood the ground until finally, nearly pushed back to their palace, the valiant, bloodied, and unbroken Ivae’fenn sent forth airborne couriers- one to the West and one to the East. From Norland in the West to that damned battlefield came a thousand men, Northguard and Purifiers alike, riding upon their armored horses and led by none other than the King himself, Vane Freysson. And from Haense in the East, there marched another thousand, clad in the famed black and yellow of the Crows, themselves led by Ser Reinhardt Barclay and the Prince Nikolas Barbanov. Together, the Men of the North had come to relieve the city and its battle-fatigued defenders.

 

     For nine days in total did the slaughter continue, the defenders pushing through the city, and the combined Highlander army pushing in through the city’s gate, with the aim of meeting in the city center. The Norlandic cavalry were the first to make contact with the Svarling host, with some couple hundred raiders slain in the initial charge alone- though this luck was not to last, as soon after the horses were bogged down in the horde, and the men were pulled, thrown and dropped from their mounts. Fortunately, it was then that the Haeseni infantry arrived, clashing shields and swords with the Svarlandic raiders and giving the Norlanders precious time to regroup. Then, the true slog began, as the Norlanders and Haensemen fought their way through the uphill gauntlet, and the Ivae’fenn fought the now-divided force from the other end.

 

     Weapons clashed and sparks flew, spells were thrown, and limbs were severed in quantities the likes of which Almaris had never before seen. Slowly, through the slogging battle, Man and Elf alike marched forward, not a one going without blood painting his body and blade alike. Many fell, and gore painted that nightmare of a landscape through day and night, until finally the Northmen and the Ivae’fenn alike breached the enemy defense and brought the battle to its conclusion. At one flank, the Norlandic warriors broke through to meet the blood-covered Ivae’fenn, and at the other the Haensemen kept the remaining Svarling huskarls engaged, allowing the forces to encircle and run down the remaining bowmen. Then, in a final offensive, the remaining raiders pushed through the battered soldiers, and made off with what they had looted; a less than ideal conclusion, for certain, but the raid was ended and the city was saved.

 

     Fenn had been spared the fiery, bloody end that had been seen in Leumont, and the day had been won with blood, sweat and steel. And yet, a somber wind blew, the sound of warhorns carried upon it, and all present felt its chill; this was not the end.


 

 

 

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Far to the north, the Svarling commander known as Vikne Kjeldsdóttir watched as hilltop signal fires were lit and snuffed in sequence in the last night of the protracted battle. A small smile crossed her scarred, battle-worn countenance, and she turned to address those gathered around her. "The war begins in earnest, then. We mustn't disappoint," The woman observed, arms coming to fold over her chest. "Make ready to move with the dawn. I've an idea in mind, and it won't do to waste time."

Spoiler

A big thanks to everyone who stuck it out for 9 whole hours of CRP! And extra big thanks to DAENGIE for planning, arranging and running the thing, and to Dixie for helping run it once the numbers started getting big. We hadn’t quite expected an event of this scale, but we’re exceedingly glad that everyone who attended (all 40 of them, holy damn) seemed to enjoy themselves. Stay tuned for the next (hopefully shorter) one!

-Astria
 

 

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Aedan would sit in the isolated comfort of his backalley Barrel Court, his fingers gingerly touching the stitched cuts and gouges on his face where his mask had shattered and cut him in the battle. He felt the pain of his cracked and broken ribs with every heave of his chest. With all the pain his body endured, the Highlanders achieved what they had set out to do, and the day was won.

 

"... An age of heroes."

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♪♪♪

 

For nine days and nine nights, the Ivae'fenn wall of spears and shields had held against their far more numerous foes, and in near constant fighting. Often did the combatants drop of wounds or fatigue, to be dragged out of the formation and replaced. By battle's end, only half remained standing. But they had held, and though initially pushed back towards the keep, they drove the Svarling horde straight into the Norlandic and Haensetic hosts. As the snow settled, it ran red with blood, and an exhausted Vytrek could only stare on in a daze.

 

 

Spoiler

9 hours of 40 man crp has to be one of the craziest things ive done on lotc. mad props to daengie, astrias, dixie, and the event leads who made it happen, as well as to everyone who participated

 

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Robin couched his lance as he charged forth with his mounted NORLANDIC brothers and his King, the Elf screamed out in unison "IRON FROM ICE!" and brought the lance to directly smash into one of the archers in the flank of the Svarlandic formation which killed the ranger instantly with a crunching noise, his lance splintered into two pieces. The Volarynesian Elf dropped his lance and lifted his daemonsteel blade overhead, causing carnage upon the Svarlandic formations, harassing them with his horse, by the end of the battle, he'd killed eight of them personally, five of which were rival mounted combatants.

After the carnage, he was tempted to give chase, but he was exhausted and drenched in sweat and blood and his allies were injured, he began using his horse which had miraculously survived the entire battle to transport the wounded to the makeshift clinic, staying behind to make sure his allies survived their wounds, nodding off as the Snow Elven medics worked to revive and repair his Norlandic brothers.

 

Finally, Robin took his trophies from his kills and rode home in his filth where he took a nice hot bath for his aching, sore bones, having to replace the water once or thrice until the water no longer turned crimson.

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Varan Atmorice would have been cut off from the main group. A small contingent of around two-hundred Ivae'Fenn and vigilant warriors pushed back into the market area. For two days they were stuck, numbers slowly vanishing away as more of the troops push against them. There was no time for rest, the attacks constant. Over time more of the contingent was able to escape the market area, climbing to assist the Fennic front-line though as this was pushed further and further back the chances for escape lessened. Eventually the market line broke, Varan taking an arrow to the back of his knee as he held a narrow entrance though soon it went dark. The 'Fennic man attacked from behind as the forces were overwhelmed. He soon awoke amidst a pile of corpses, slowly being dragged away from the battlefield. Alive but by a slim margin. 

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Vane turns to look at Aeden Aidan Aedan with his one good eye, "You know, you and me put together now... we make one whole head." He says offering a pained chuckle that turns into coughing fit. "Ohhh..." He groans "It was good to fight alongside all of our betheren in the north, perhaps one day we can become a united force for the defense of the realm." He says idly bringing his hand up to where his left eye used to be. "Knowing these svarlings, it may be the only thing that can save us all." The injured king lets out a strained sigh trying to think of what could be done, if anything to stifle these Northlander Barbarians "This must be what those Southlanders think of us..." he chuckles silently to himself "Except in our case it true."

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A cloaked figure married to chaos sits cackling atop the walls of the besieged city, legs dangling unabashedly off the edge, clothes blustering in the frigid winds. How long had it been since they had last visited? Almost a year ago, by their reckoning, when they joined that Styrbjorn for a whistlestop tour of the northern nations. And what better way to improve upon that visit than nine days of slaughter, witnessed in its entirety by their bloodshot eyes? Skrain Bloodbrand would swing their legs back up to solid stone and begin to make their way across the walls, following behind the Svarling raiding party, muttering to themselves in between their bouts of laughter. "Strange how nobody cares to look up."

Meanwhile, the Lord Purifier makes plans to honour the valiant Initiates of the Order who fought back against that demonic Svarling horde. His smile is proud, yet a touch of grim understanding hides beneath. Ikur'fiyem would not be the last target of the Svarlings' now enlarged forces, and so Varhelm must be ready. Viktor Eldrsson sighs as these developments pile upon the already long list of threats to Norland. "Ay, what to deal with first..."

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Long after the battle had subsided, Illynora picked through the carnage. She was no stranger to death, and recognised it as just another part of the endless cycle of life. Nevertheless, her expression was sombre as she and Avius loaded dozens of Ivae'fenn onto carts and trekked their bodies up the slope to the keep.

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A lone Rurikkid walks about the battlefield; he gazed upon the stains of crimson blood yet coating the soil and the carcasses of men remain half-buried. He lays an offering to an old and forgotten Paragon and utters a short prayer to the Father.

 

"Bless our arms with Your fury, our hearts with Your courage, our minds with Your will. With Your guidance we shall overcome the corrupted."

 

The man remains for sometime before a Northern storm blows, coating the battlefield in a frozen dust. He then departs Westward.

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Deafening sounds of clashing-shields and weapons making impact with plate armour, these were the sounds heard from outside the walls of Ikur'fiyem. Akkar returned back to the city only to be welcomed by these heart-sinking sounds.

 

 

Accompanied by a small hundred-man detachment of Ivae'Fenn, the Fennic' Prince decided to enter through the side entrance rather than the main gate, his force too small to attack the unknown enemy of unknown numbers from the rear. Entering atop the highest plateau of the city, a perfect view was laid out, many thousands of Svarling soldiers besieged a mere two thousand Ivae'Fenn defenders in their Mahnih formation. Without thinking, Akkar joined in with his mere hundred men, replacing those who were injured or tired on the frontlines of the main force.

 

In the center of the formation face-to-face with the enemy, anger fueled the small group of reinforcements, aggression followed, the hundred-man detachment struck the enemy marauders with full force relentlessly for many days. Though the Ivae'Fenn fought for three days prior to their arrival, there was somehow now a second-wind within the defenders, regrouping with his brother Vytrek in the midst of battle, the Ivae'Fenn now stopped giving ground as the flow of the battle shifted, fully on the attack and routing the marauders on the fifth day, back down the hill towards the square. Two-thousand guardians routed equal numbers, then faced down the elite heavy enemy rear guard, the huskarls, yet even they were no match, either slain or routed throughout three more days of clashing.

 

There was now no one stopping the Ivae'Fenn from advancing, looking down the hill it could be seen, the Haense and Norlandic armies clashing with many thousands-more Svarlings, heavy huskarls clashing with the frontline of the human force, Svarling archers atop hills pouring arrows down onto the pinned reinforcements, with the Fenn' victorious on their side of the battle, they found themselves in the perfect position to storm the enemy rear. Slaughter ensued as Ivae'Fenn Guardians charged into the rear of enemy formations.

 

 The day fight was won, decisive actions drove the numerically-overwhelming enemy fleeing out of the city. Many days would still yet be spent collecting the dead and treating all the wounded.

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