THE BACHELOR'S PARTY | 635 AA

[pkdon 1977]

 

Issued and averred by the office of the

IMPERIAL CROWN

 

 

✠ HEED, TO ALL;

Benches groaned under crowded knights and soldiers, tankards brimming and clashing in raucous rhythm, the air thick with rowdy song - some tuneful, most slurred - and the tang of spilled ale. Armor piled against walls like shed skins, the groomsmen donned their wedding finery amid gales of laughter. At the heart, The Crown Prince Marcus Tiberias reigned atop a table, bottle raised high, his jeers and cheers shattering the night. Hours of revelry heralded the true feast: a dwarven rally at dawn. The merry host spurred out still singing, half-drunk, wholly eager, to greet their "foes" - one hundred Imperials matched by a dwarven line of equal steel. Elated, these men were able to find a dancing partner. And so they did, lining up opposite each other before at last, the Bachelor’s Party was underway.

At first, one might have thought the alcohol to have taken its toll on the Imperials. A few soldiers had tripped over their feet, some driven off their horses by heavy heads. Prince Johannes led and corralled the fighting force alongside his nephew, the aforementioned and celebrated Crown Prince, returning the men to their senses as they picked up their weapons and regrouped in the forest to hold their ground. The dwed cavalry had attempted to catch the enemy young heir of Blackvale unawares, riding him down as he marched back to the forest. Prince Willem van Aert was not one to yield so readily; as the galloping hooves drew closer, the Lodenlander planted his feet firmly into the ground. He weaved a lance, then another, his pike bringing down the third cavalryman. The merry host lay down arrow fire, covering the van Aert as he at last rejoined them. They held by those trees of gold leaves, as both forces prepared for the final engagement.

Down the path, the dwed host approached in formation, clattering their swords against the shields as they marched with haste. Not long after, the skirmish began, a test of dwarven steel against the Imperial counterpart. Misha, the leal elf, was first into the fray, charging headfirst into the enemy lines. He found himself at odds with three dwed at once, yet their swords faltered at the sight of his fury. The dwarves pressed their advantage, bringing more and more against this lone elf, almost bringing down the rampaging menace, until the Prince of Blackvale broke through. Just as Misha before him, Martius van Aert brought his axe down upon the skulls of their shorter foe, sending them scurrying one by one. Just behind, the Turtle Knight, Sir Frederick Euler, rained down a hail of arrows; combined with his javelin, the strong arm of the Adrian made porcupines of the dwarvish infantry. 

The enemy cavalry took a detour up the mountainside, admiring the horizon before joining the fight. They were first met by the Grand Knight’s squire, Corswain, who lanced the mountain-detoured cavalry, then harried footmen; Prince Johannes swept through with his shortsword, piercing the brittle dwarves plate as their blood lay splattered across the winding cobble path. Their numbers dwindled, and their resolve had shattered. The Crown Prince and Sir Ghetsis Mareno were the final nail in the coffin. The Myrnish knight cut down the entire regiment of Irehearts with his longsword, an unrelenting and unforgiving menace to any foe that had dared cross him. Five charged him at once; none would live to tell the tale. Prince Marcus dismounted what cavalry remained, rendering them dazed and confused as they attempted to retreat. He ran them down, as he did the infantrymen that remained. 

The party was over.

 

AVE IMPERIUM!

 

 

---

H V M A N I T A S    I N V I C T A

“Für Gott und Kaiser,”

HIS IMPERIAL HIGHNESS, Marcus Tiberias of the House Horen, Crown Prince of the Empire, Duke of Grense. 

NON DVCOR, DVCO

 

 

Spoiler

START: 10v10
END: 8v0

GGs!
 

 

 

 

 

[Malta 2811]

Misha the Elf, still celebrating their victory over the dwarven bandits in the tavern, drunkenly gives three cheers to his comrades. "Long live the Prince, long live the Empire, and long live this ale!"

[Kardika 1057]

"heh well..." the battered and bruised Salvian grimaced as he muttered to the medic tending to him "ya win some ya lose some.. oww..." he groaned after moving his broken arm too far to fetch his tankard of whiskey.

[Gaja 1311]

Sir Frederick Euler would raise a tankard brimming with ale up in cheer. "Did you see Misha out there? Like a man possessed!"

[hopey 364]

"Heh." A horrendously overzealous Livia boasts after reading the missive. "Attaboy."

[i.uomini 2552]

Spoiler

Wonderful writing GG to the imperials this time. Good fights are treasured and rare so thanks for the fun.
...but where in this whole thing did the 600 Batteries come into play?

 

[Vikenz 1162]

Yrun remembered the battle only faintly. He recalled cutting down two hundred men and wounding countless others. He remembered facing the Prince in single combat—the young commander of the Ireheart Clan—who shattered him and forced him to turn and flee. He would have died there if not for his uncle, Prince Johannes, who dragged him from the field.