The Brave and the Bloody

[Narthok 9213]

Spoiler

 

@KBR @Emery @Werew0lf @AgentofDeath13@Chennster @Radzig @BobBox @CunneR

For such an auspicious day the weather was unusually pleasant. The shining sun and singing birds belying the carnage lurking mere hours away. Within the fortress of Southbridge, soldiers mulled about restlessly, fidgeting with their equipment as they were issued rations and ammunition by nervous-looking officers. Peering from the battlements any man could see the massed arrays of dwarven trebuchets squatting formidably in the fields or perched precariously on the backs of the dwarven fleet. 

A ragtag band of men were gathering by the south gate. Unlike the brightly uniformed soldiers of the ISA this appeared to be a gathering of rogues and adventurers. Ragged clothes and colourful patchwork equipment. Each of these colourful characters had been personally asked to participate in a desperate plan. Rather than trying to wear down the besieging enemy with attrition, a raiding party would sally out to destroy the siege weapons and cause chaos while the main force held Southbridge. At least that was the plan. But the tiny number of men who had been committed to the plan made all involved dubious. This was clearly a suicide mission. 

 

A Bull Orc approached the band from his equipment it appeared to be one of their strange Chieftain commanders. “Need a man on the gate?” the imposing creature queried in its guttural language. “We won’t be coming back” Edmond responded with a glib smirk his quip raising a fatalistic laugh from the gathered men. As the Orc strode off the first stone crashed into the defences of Southbridge sending soldiers and engineers from the heights to their deaths. It was going to be a long day.

 

Grins fading from their faces the small band slipped from the fortress, lightly armoured but armed to the teeth. They slipped into the water, each man desperately battling against the tide in an attempt to reach their goal. A collection of siege ships located just off the shore, all connected by a web of boardwalks and chains. Dwarven arrows punched the waves as scouts and watchmen spotted the approaching band. It was too late. 

 

They were over the sides, swords in hand. Slaughter. Dwarven siege engineers were butchered at their stations, the siege weapons crippled as the brave band surged forward. An arrow bounced off of Manfred’s helm as he was consumed by the war song. The screams of dying men, the distant echoes of stone on stone from the dwarven siege weapons. The decks of each ship were slick with ocean spray and the viscera of the dead and dying. Inhaling deeply through his nostrils the wandering Prince was reminded of the stories told to him by his aged Grandfather. Days of iron and blood. Today he would forget the shame of his people. Today he would embrace who he was. 

 

The band pushed forward ship after ship fell to axe and torch. Dwarven bodies littered the ground. The last ship had been taken. The sea belonged to humanity. But it was not to last. From the shore, uncountable Haensers could be seen making their way towards the ships. Manfred laughed. A good day to die. The cultists of Sigismund clawed at the rails of the ship, desperately trying to drive the Imperial braves from the freshly captured boats. Their numbers seemed endless. Manfred stood back to back with Sir Mohammed Hasan the two adventurers slashing wildly at the ever-swelling tides of Haensers. The two elves Lucius Vuillerian and Elren wielded their swords as if they were dancing. Gracefully weaving amongst the unskilled conscripts with unrivalled skill as they dealt death and horror to their enemies. Emond stood at the ladder smashing his boot into the face of any foolish enough to try and challenge his supremacy of the deck while Enzo wrestled with a ferryman on the slippery deck. There were too many.

With a desperate cry of “fall back” the raiders dove from the deck of the ship. Godfrey Renault was the last to depart the ship, launching bolt after bolt into the oncoming hordes before finally diving into the sea with his fellows. The Haenser chaff being reinforced by an elite cadre of Ferrymen and Knights of Blackvale. The band were chased for what seemed an eternity. Hunted through the bowels of the shattered ships. But their pursuers fell away, recalled by some far off commander to focus on taking the castle.

 

The raiders regrouped, bloodied, breathless, some severely wounded. But death had not yet come for the bold few. The more observant of the band would notice that Southbridge had been reduced to a pile of rubble. Soldiers of the ISA clawed desperately against the tide of flesh crashing against their fortifications. The battle was lost. But perhaps some glory could still be torn from the jaws of defeat. With a resigned grin, the band cast themselves into the sea once more, making for the siege engines perched upon the shore. Emerging from the water with an enraged scream the raiders charged into the ranks of unaware siege engineers. Carnage. The Lions, sons of Haskir fell upon the ignorant engineers with abandon. Tearing at exposed flesh with both claw and fang. A disturbing sight, yet indisputably effective. Yet Southbridge had fallen. Without a moment to catch their breath, the band was driven back into the sea, scattered.

 

Manfred swam his heart pounding in his ears. Arrows lodged in his back. His limbs impossibly heavy from what felt like hours of fighting. Somehow he managed to haul himself from the sea, taking refuge upon one of the ruined hulks floating in the cove. Upon the shore stood Enzo, desperately battling two Ferrymen alone. Leaping from the wreck Manfred swam to his aid attempting to push back Arsenic Mareno while Enzo finished of the Ferryman’s companion. Outmatched by the superior duelist, Manfred leapt back into the sea wounded and exhausted, he slowly sunk below the waves.

 

 

---

 

Manfred awoke coughing on the shore. The ruins of Southbridge had stopped burning and the battlefield was quiet. Grunting to himself he began to limp home. Perhaps he could find himself a warm meal and a warmer bed to nurse his injuries. They had won the battle. But this was far from over.

[ReveredOwl 5352]

"Won't stop till providence!" Said Walton.

Edited January 10, 2022 by Basil Moroul