Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'coalition'.
Found 1 result
-
ACT I - The Jungle The sun... shown its rays for the last time as the youngest Montalt trotted into the jungle's edge. The stories were true, the canopies removed all light from the world and plunged the forces of Veletz into darkness. Orders were that he was to diverge from the main party and splinter into the mountains, hopefully to catch the enemy flanks by surprise. The force carried on as planned, if only slowed down by the horses... Perhaps something was amiss- his horse had never been so frightened to buck him from his saddle, even during the thick of battle... yet all the horses seemed to remove rider- regardless they followed their orders. After hours of scaling the mountains he took pause over a large ravine with his Father, "Beautiful from up here isn't it?" Radmir asked. "Nay, as it were I'd rather be breeding cows." Philip replied. It was true, his father was known commonly in Veletz as the "Cow Count." Cow had a more literal meaning in Veletz than in Aaun, where the people ate heartily. ACT II - The Slaughter The forces began to move eastward, though the thick forces halted their advance, men seen only moments prior faded into obscurity as Radmir rode. He looked back to see many of his comrades sinking; fear took in. The very earth below their feet began to drop and men began to die before even seeing action. Was this dark magic cast by the Coalition? Most likely. But perhaps the jungle was simply more dangerous than first expected. Finally a path was spotted for the linking of the forces, and to the road the men of Veletz trotted. The forces of the Anathema spotted light on the third hour past the high sun, catching glimpse of a large fortification raised upon the open plain. "What is that?" Radmir inquired to his fellow cavalryman. "Don't you know? The Haensers have turned this into a siege. See that?" Radmir took a long glance at the horizon, the Cavalryman continued. "They erect walls instantly. As if they paid builders gems to get it done." "Ah." said Radmir in response, for he did not know what the man spoke of- but it did sound correct. "We do not engage in battle." The order was given by Radmir's commander, and the order would be followed. "Retreat and pepper them." Radmir acknowledged the merits of this order without question, and tried his best to follow. The order given, did not last long. A fight had broken off on the west flank- and men began to surge to settle it. The Montalt followed suit, striking the Duke of Aeltarys from his horse. He saw another man slain beneath his sword shortly after. But something was amiss still- he knew it since the horses, he knew it since the earth fell, and it was all too late. A surge of men and women rode towards the Western flank- one moment they were kilometers away- the next they were upon the Veletzian forces. Was this a a trick of the light? Foul Black Magic? Radmir knew not, but he followed the order to retreat. Radmir rode and returned a hail of arrows to the oncomers, he would follow the non-engagement orders. Until he saw the Captain General removed from his steed. He would defend his leader. Charge sounded as he lanced a common soldier from his horse before being struck from his own. The Montalt narrowly escaped with his life from the muddy slogging of ground troops and headed to the treeline, glancing back in dismay. Another lance struck his iron plate, the rider retreating before he could muster a counter attack. The surge carried, the light not allowing a proper vision of the enemy. Radmir moved into the forest line and attempted to return fire- but was quickly rode down. ACT III - The Return The rays of the sky faded as the clouds fell over the land and submerged the dying Montalt into darkness. His father, nowhere to be seen since the retreat was sounded. His eyes opened at once to see the stragglers of his force slaughtered as the Coalition moved forwards slaying men around him... he knew he was soon to be slain. His eyes shut, opened, shut... It was the seventh hour past the sun's height when he heard the Coalition Spearman approach upon him, he spoke a gutteral tongue only known to Radmir as the brutish language of a Valdevian. Mustering all his might he turned to his back and raised his shortsword, and his thoughts took root. Radmir was not the strongest warrior of Veletz, he knew this to be true. He was not the bravest- for why would he flee the battle if this were true. He was not even the most witty, for the Ferrymen he grew up around could banter him into the ground. Radmir was nothing, a fleeper, a young man with a vision so far away. A cold throne, once promised to him by God- taken at this field of crimson at the edge of the world. He was weak, cowardly, mildly intelligent. But he was no traitor. When given the opportunity to fight for an eight army band he chose to stay with his kinsmen even after they had lost their home, and Brasca. He rode at Westmark with the almost assurance that he would be slain. He rode into the jungles of doom- where ground fell beneath men, where horses threw their riders, where a wall had appeared from thin air. He rode because he had faith in his Captain-General. Montalt... he thought. He was the most loyal. To Gaspard. To Veletz. To Family. And as the Pikeman went to thrust Montalt's heart, a blade sliced open the man's neck. "Rise soldier. This is no place to die."
