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 Posted: Tue Jan 05, 2010 6:24 pm
 •~•~•
Esmerelda lifted another arrow to her bow, not even waiting to see if her first arrow had landed. There would be too much time inbetween attacks if she did that, and if the first missed, this way, the second would land while the enemy was busy freaking out over being shot at.
The black-haired woman could see the arrows now flying towards them every so often, noticing the glinting arrowheads in the sky. "Defensive! Avoid the arrows! Keep firing when you can!" Esmerelda called. She angled her arrow up, trying to get the wind to work in her favor with her next shot as she suddenly felt a warmth surround her body, seeping through her clothes, down to her bones. She blinked her mis-matched eyes and looked over to Beatrix nearby, holding a Shield staff in her hands.
The Sniper smiled in relief, nodding once to her. "Thank you," she murmured. She turned back to the battle, smiling at the faint pulsing glow of the protective aura cocooning her body. As if on cue, after firing her next arrow--which passed through the barrier effortlessly--an enemy arrow plunked uselessly off of the shield and onto the ground.
Ha.
She flinched, though, as Beatrix suddenly yelped. Esmerelda turned; an archer in her ranks collapsed to the ground, blood blooming across the fabric of her uniform, right over her heart. Esmerelda closed her eyes for a moment, fighting back something while trying to keep her expression neutral, and turned back to the fight. Her eyes narrowed, taking closer aim. Her men were scurrying back and forth, trying to avoid blows with the arrows while firing back with attacks of their own. She could hear the thuds of arrows through flesh and a few screams of her own men, making her wince. "Someone tend to the wounded! We have to minimize fatalities!" Esmerelda called. She fired her arrow then at the first enemy spotted in the open along the fortress wall, not even bothering to watch if her attack landed; she immediately fired a third arrow, then a fourth. At this point, it was less about careful aim and more about making sure the enemy died first so no more of her men went down.
She didn't like her soldiers being killed. She got mad when her soldiers got killed.
•~•~•  My answer is...
→I will always be here.←
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Posted: Tue Jan 05, 2010 7:17 pm
LANCELOT The screams of the dead were never dulled by repetition- like waves of energy, they met and augmented, turning from a single, pitiful shriek into a force in and of itself. A cacophony, a serenade of those suffering in agony for the split second before steel cut their threads of life- sounds that ran up and down the scale in terms of pitch, coming together in a grueling symphony of death. That was war- it was not merely the clashing of steel and wits against one another, but the mind-shaking effects of those screams that truly made war the glorious stint that it was.
Even when the screams came from his own men, cut short when crossbow bolts pierced their necks, Lancelot found that all he could do was bite back the slightest hints of a grimace. A shame- though he felt more sorry for the wyverns that clutched the corpses of their masters. Trained to hold onto them until the end, there was no doubt in his mind that this breed would hold onto their men without such goading. She-dragons, most of them, with very few sires, deprived of their young by the soldiers of Lancelot's own brigade, had taken to their riders as if they were their own kin, riding astride their backs until they themselves learned how to fly. And now, like the protective mothers they were, each held a soldier to their breast before turning on those that stayed with them.
Only a few of the soldiers and archers felt those ivory teeth tear them to shreds before the rain of oil began. Those few wyverns that hadn't abandoned the inner walls didn't get the chance to even shriek as they looked skyward, their scales immediately sloughing off as the scorching oil all but peeled the flesh away from their bones. The stench of burning scales and melting flesh was nothing compared to the sight of the great behemoths' throats collapsing inward as their mouths were scorched and their delicate inner tissues melted from the heat exposure. Their corpses did nothing to stop the onslaught of oil, and those beasts trapped below were healed only just enough for them to roll over, away from where the steaming barrage wilted the grass and seared the stones.
Three wyverns were melted inside- seven were maimed severely by the splashing oil. Two were left without their legs, having stood up only to lose their feet to the burns- those riders could not be saved. Three more had burned their wings beyond repair, only furthering the damage when they attempted to flap wings so horrendously ravaged that they could not feel the pain of the oil until it splashed on other parts of their bodies. The last two wyverns lost their tails, their riders safe and secure astride their backs as soon as they'd been able to move. Wyverns that circled overhead didn't even have a chance to look down on their wounded before the volley of arrows began.
"First wave! Charge!" Those three words, and Lancelot pulled back, letting the first wave of riders surge forward while guiding a second wave further skyward. With each wave consisting of ten riders, the last began a pursuit, just behind the first wave that charged forward. The last ten had been crippled or were dead- but even that did not stop the few that still had their claws.
Those few that had been burned but not destroyed sunk their claws into the cracks between the inlaid stone, climbing whether they had riders or not- maternal instinct bade them to attack those that threatened them or their young, and military training told them how to go about it. Another pouring of oil would send them crashing fatally to the ground, but the first two waves of wyvern riders would strongly discourage the men it took to pour the searing canisters out onto a few riderless beasts.
Lancelot's brigade climbed well into the sky, flying nearly straight up in an attempt to get right above- if not slightly behind- the attacking archers. All the while, the first wave of wyverns shrieked, their wings and bodies littered by arrows. Their riders did no better, but died choking on their own blood with bloodthirsty grins on their faces- every felled wyvern did as the last wave had done, closing their wings, but had no intention of saving themselves. Their bodies crashed directly into the lines of archers- ten large, heavy wyverns whose riders threw their weapons at them before their inevitable deaths. Even with fire scorching their bodies, melting their scales and blinding their eyes, they only needed to hear the whistling of arrows to know where to aim their bodies in their death throes. There would be no healing, this time.
The riders that survived the first onslaught of arrows (by using their compatriots as shields) readied their lances and axes, slicing at those who remained as they swept past.
Meanwhile, the charge downward had begun from above.
Four waves of attackers, with one of them not even dictated by human reason.
The West was as good as taken.۞ Luck be a Lady ۞
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Posted: Tue Jan 05, 2010 8:58 pm
 ...where was the blasted reset button? Where? Where the hell was it? Everything was going awry! Sure, they were killing those Wyverns, but there were MORE of the stupid flying lizard-rats! If you want something done... do it yourself! And with a new determination, he left his perch, running back into the halls of the fort.
All he had to do was just get to the west wall, and everything would be fine. He kept telling himself that, that he just had to get to Point B, and it would all be okay. Still, as he ran, he held the Crossbow like a child held a teddy bear, running as quickly as he could to the destination. But, his conscience forced himself to take a side trip. See, on the way there, he passed by his special storeroom. With desperation setting in, he bolted in, grabbing a two clay pots. With a bit of haste, he threw both pots, one by one, at the corner he just rounded, watching as they shattered, sending a black, tar-like goo all over the floor and parts of the walls. After taking cautionary steps back, Ezekiel grabbed a torch from the wall, and heaved it at the mass. The moment the fire connected with the slop, it went ablaze, creating a large fire in the corner. He would be effectively barricaded by any attempts to attack him from behind, quite the advantage, given his harebrained scheme.
With his rear covered, Ezekiel made his way down the hall, to the West Wall...
The archers and mages were quite in disarray on this side of the wall. But, they were still able to muster their wits and send volley after volley of arrows towards the first wave. And of course, as the first wave came closer and closer to the wall, they all tried their hardest to scatter. And of course, not all managed to avoid the falling masses, but a fair amount of the West archers, mages and civilians did manage to. But, it almost goes without saying that those that did manage to evade the attack were split: half were now trapped on the part of the wall alongside Ezekiel, and the other half were now more or less part of the South(gate) wall. Of course, then the second wave descended.
Those that were able to survive the first wave were no doubt freaked out. So, the attacks that were made, were only able to fell the few that were on the edges of the second wave.
But, the carnage of the West Wall attracted the attention of, well, the other soldiers. The South and East Wall archers all mounted their own attacks on the wyverns. The South wall aimed to end the Second Wave, that followed in the path of the First. They were closer, and able to use their range to at least greatly thin the numbers, without losing too many of their own. The East Wall, on the other hand, due to their distance, were able to see the Third Wave descending from above. Their distance allowed them slight safety in attacking the Third Wave as it sank to the ravaged East Wall.
And of course, while this was happening, in the postwriter's desperation, he stumbled across something completely forgotten: alcohol and fire with the commoners on the walls. So, with the aerial assault at least significantly contained, the commoners with their molotov cocktails were able to rain fire down upon the troops of the South and East gates. The East was only Greatknights that were unable to counterattack, while the South would likely be caught off guard by raining firebombs. And the mages are doing their own thing, grouping up to pick off people one at a time on both the East and South fronts. At the South front, they aimed for the slower, heavily armored Knights and such, since they are much less capable of dodging. So, despite the distractedness of the archers, the firebombs and magic would likely help to distract the enemy from them.
And now, back to the Adventures of a Pissed Off Ezekiel...
Ezekiel had managed to encounter a batch of the fleeing West Wall soldiers. Needless to say, fighting with their general gave a bit of a bolstering to their morale. Also, they were able to slightly more capably handle the Crawler wave, those injured that were climbing the wall. Ezekiel himself shot at the damaged wyverns as they reached the top of the wall, from the safety of the inside, of course. And the ones he couldn't take care of, some of the villagers on his side did, with their molotov cocktails. All the while, Ezekiel kept his crossbow primed whenever it wasn't firing, almost anticipating the flames behind him to cease, showing the sign of enemies behind him...
(( Okay, the black tarlike goo he laid down is called Greek Fire. Those of you who want to know what it can do, go look it up on Wikipedia or Google. You're on the internet, after all. That's guarding Ezekiel's back, he's watching his front, and there are no sides. Plus, he has underlings around him, too. ))
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Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2010 2:24 pm
Milan Johannsen
The Silent Blade
____________________________________________ Milan spoke nothing. Her orders were set in motion, her soldiers had followed her enough to know what her signals meant. As her entrance cleared, a swing of her sword to the sides of the fort as they entered made a command quite clear. The thieves were to loot any possible treasure situated within the fort, and the troops were to deal with any nuisances as they claimed the fort. Milan entirely trusted their ability. She herself was Caesar's number two, and her soldiers had the skill to match a commander of said rank.
The soldiers split into two groups as they entered. One faction immediately took to wiping out the pests that lay below. The fewer that remained, the fewer bombs that they'd have to continually dodge. And so they took, slicing through nearby targets with an assortment of blades and spells, leaving no threats alive as they moved. Bombs fell, burning some, maiming others, but her troops continued on. The other faction, the thieves, scoured the carnage for loot. They picked up fallen weapons of any worth, removed fine candleholders, picked chests laying about, anything that could be claimed as the spoils of war.
As for Milan, her target lay elsewhere. She quickly scaled a nearby ladder to the higher floors of the fort and, with multiple deadly precise slashes of her blade, mowed down the enemy troops that posed a threat to her and her allies. She ran down the path laid out for her, poised to locate the fort's leader. He wasn't hard to find, as he'd just thrown down a large burning trap behind himself. She was familiar with the siege weapon, and she knew that while water would be useless upon the flames, fire could not exist without heat. She focused the spell within her blade, slashing a path through the air to lay down a thick layer of ice between her and her target. The ice spread, cementing his feet to the ground where he stood.
"You've been a pest," she murmured. "Our General would like you alive."____________________________________________
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Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2010 3:00 pm
 Oh, how she loved the snow! It came so sparsely in the overpopulated cities of Estarcia, and it was shoveled and removed before it could even have the makings of a snowman! This was exactly why General Felicia loved her job as much as she did. She could get away with almost anything, due to her unique skills. Well, they weren't unique, but she was quite good at what she did. And of course, that let her help those in need, mess with the especially pompous, and so on. To put the icing on the cake, she got to travel all around the magnificent continent, without a care in the world! It wasn't like anyone could put a candle to her dexterity, anyway...
So, there she was, giggling to herself as she skipped and spun across the snowy ground. But after one spin too many, she began to get dizzy, and propped herself up against a tree. Fearing for her health, as all squad second-in-commands would, a young man ran up to her, clearly out of breath.
"General Felicia, are you okay?" he asked, looking about to pull his hair out.
"...I'm fiiiiine~!" she said, laughing.
"B-but General, if you're not careful, you could fall, or hit your head, or twist an ankle-"
"And that's not going to happen, Ferdinand. You know me, and we both know I'm more coordinated than that..." She laughed again as he tried to reply, before purposefully slapping him in the face with a low-hanging branch. Ferdinand fell to the ground, sputtering out the snow and bits of bark that managed to fly into his mouth.
"But ma'am, what if-" The man was cut off by a shrill shriek, coming from the skies above them. A small mass in the sky was hurtling straight down, aiming for what appeared to be a gap in the treetops. As it got closer and closer, one would see that it was a falcon, a black falcon, to be precise. It descended closer and closer to the pair, finally slowing to a halt on Felicia's shoulder.
"Aww, what is it, Arlette~? Did you find some adorable little bunnies again?" she cooed, lightly rubbing her hand across its back. "I hope you didn't eat them, love! Now go on, lead me to it!" And with the order given, Arlette took to the skies again, this time under the careful watch of Felicia's eyes. If there was a little family of bunnies, she'd just have to have one of her squad take them to her manor. She always wanted bunnies! Sure, she already had a few mice, a cat, and Arlette, but she wanted bunnies, too!
Sadly, as she neared the edge of the forest, her joy quickly deflated into anything but. Her eyes widened in shock, and her arms began to tremble. Fort Vajeh was under attack! And why there, anyway? It was a ramshackle little hovel of a fort, with nothing to gain from it! Unless... they were after that sourpuss Ezekiel! Ohhh, his acid wit had to get him in trouble with someone sooner or later!
"...Milady, what would you have us do?
"...Take the rest of the squad, get back to the castle, on the double. Take any evasive actions you deem fit, Ferdinand." Her voice was now calm, subdued, with a hint of fear. Ferdinand only nodded, and retreated, the squad in tow. Again, Arlette descended upon her shoulder, trying to playfully n** at her hair, to raise her spirits. But, the general only shrugged it off, reaching into a pocket on her tunic. Slowly, she pulled out a piece of paper and pen(or stick of charcoal, whatever satisfies the setting), and began to write a note, using the tree as a flat surface.
Fort Vajeh is under attack. I've sent my squad back to the capital, and I will return as soon as I am sure the fort has fallen. I will give a detailed report at that time.
~ Felicia <3
Then, she tied the note to Arlette's leg, and stroked the falcon's back once more. "...Okay, Arlette, dear, take to the castle. It's that way." She pointed behind herself, making sure the bird saw. "And if that doesn't help you... follow Ferdy, okay?" With a small nudge, the bird took off, flying the path that Felicia and her squad had just taken. Chances are, Arlette would reach the capital before Ferdinand and the others, and give a proper warning.
In the mean time, the woman only hid amongst the trees, a cautious sentinel over the assaulted fort. And if the enemy somehow saw her, she would definitely be able to out-maneuver anyone, anywhere. And those she couldn't she could kill. As much as the prospect displeased her. Why couldn't humans just be like housepets, and not wage all-out war on each other...?
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Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2010 3:18 pm
The howling winds behind him primed Ezekiel for an intruder. With a pointed finger, he directed those directly under his command to leave the hallway, and finish slaughtering those blasted flying lizard-rats. He couldn't do anything with a bunch of marginally-capable soldiers all around him, after all!
Ezekiel turned from the entrance to the wall, blocking out the sounds of footsteps from his soldiers. If there were any more of those repugnant crawling zombie flying-lizard-rats, that group could handle them. But, the intruder gave the general the impression that it was a mage! But no, it was a swordsman- no, swordswoman. How did they even-
Before he could attempt to be worked into a rage at her intrusion, she had already used what had to be an enchanted blade to encase his feet in ice. Now, he was immobilized! He couldn't move, so he couldn't dodge. And he couldn't move, so the Swordmaster had the obvious advantage, if he chose to fight back. There was nothing he could do, sadly.
Blast! Where is the reset button! Give me a do-over, a gamebreaker, overdrive, something...!
But nothing came. No stroke of odd circumstance, no reinforcements, no convenient boulders to crush the woman... nothing. The Estarcian Engineer Ezekiel was bested. If only the damn fort was in better shape when he got it, this wouldn't have happened! But, what could you do about it, if there was what could easily be both a proverbial and literal blade to your throat?
...the woman murmured something. Between the sounds of the ice around his legs, and the carnage outside, he couldn't hear what she was saying, at all. Still, she said something. And it probably wouldn't be "I've come to kill you" or else she'd have done it already. So, it wouldn't hurt to try...
"...so. Which lucky army gets to be graced by my presence?" he said, between accepting cackles. "The death-crazed Mordaches? Tree-hugging Adlians? Or is it those self-righteous Learanians?" All of a sudden, he began to laugh. A lot. "No no, say it's not so! Are you those lawless Sentrians?" ...Silence. Looks like the woman was as cold as her blade. Or maybe she replied. He couldn't hear her. Heck, she probably could hardly hear him.
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Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2010 4:33 pm
A man whom can conquer his fear can strive to conquer the world.>x-General Caesar-x< Thanks to the clever movements (and rather reckless by any other standards) of Lancelot and the fliers, the snipers, archers, and magic users up top the wall were all focused elsewhere. There would be no more traps, surprises, or otherwise disadvantages that were going to be flung Caesar's way. Nothing would his squad from charging the gate and bringing it down.
Caution was still of the utmost importance. It wasn't through being reckless that the General rose to the rank of importance that he did. It was through years of careful strategic moves, the losses of many of his enlisted men in skirmishes that provided mistakes to learn from, and of course the basic lessons of his previous superiors that led to a strong belief in putting reason before anything else in battle. He called two Great Knights, five soldiers and one of the stronger armor knights before him. "Do not hesitate. Smash that gate open, and we'll break through. By now, Milan and the other assassins should have given us a back door. If there is a trap, on the inside of the gate, you are to escape if able. Keeping our numbers is important."
The selected soldiers saluted, shouting "yes sir!" before charging forward with again, the caution that their superior had behind him. The soldiers were spearing off the remainders of what appeared to be three different locks holding in place, while the great knights brandished axes and chopped deeply into the gate's wood. The soldiers backed off when at last, the door separating the outside from in crashed down in a massive thud. Some of their eyes grew huge as the light runes glowed, preventing further entry from the outside, and even more surprise proceeded upon the poison jets spraying.
One the lance wielding soldiers collapsed upon inhaling the poisonous fumes, and the Great Knights grabbed two of the ailing spearmen before rushing back to the Restore staves of Beatrix's healing squad. The lone armored knight at the very head of them had collapsed on his way back to his comrades, finding no hope of reaching them just before his eyesight went eternally black.
"To the back entrance!" Caesar ordered hastily, again having to keep his cool upon watching many of his soldiers fall already. This was a brutal struggle ahead of him, but the battle for this fort was already over, he could tell. As he quickened the march of the armored units, their speed doubled until they passed safely from the east (courtesy of Felix and the cavalry) around to the back end, and finally squeezing into the entrance single file where Milan had graciously left it open.
At last, Caesar had arrived alongside the swordmistress, his steel axe in hand. Now he was finally able to come face-to-face with the first of many tyrants whom ruled over Estarcia, and it felt almost exciting to have this kind of power over an abuser of the common men. "So you have been the one giving me and my men so much trouble lately. I will at least let you know my name before I give you a choice... barbarian. I am General Caesar of the Archanean Legion. I come here in the name of my country to set right to your wrongs."
He glared down at the sniper whom his most trusted had captured, and all the while made sure that their followers kept their arms ready to use if he tried anything. He held out his steel axe to Ezekiel, mere inches from his face and suddenly gained a fierce tone to his voice. "I will give you but two choices. You are to join me, or die. Which will it be?"
« ● ● ● ● ● ● »
All will fall to that which is greater, this is an inevitable truth.
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Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2010 5:54 pm
Lo there, do I see my father,
Lo there, do I see my mother, my sisters and brothers,
Lo there, do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning
Lo, they do call to me, they bid me take my place among them.
Beatrix ------------------- Beatrix trotted back and forth anxiously, taking stock of her losses. It hadn't been so bad for her squad, most of which stayed near the back and healed anyone who was dragged back to them. A few of her sages were dead or in serious condition, but other than that, she could see no heavy losses.
"Well, this turned out well for us, didn't it, Karlov?" She turned, looking back at her trusted lieutenant with a smile, and swung her leg down off of Horsie. "Benoit, take Horsie and see that one of the recruits gives him a good scrub and a bucket of oats, I'm sure the poor thing is hungry," she told her favorite Bishop. The amazonian aryan carefully plucked a shoulder bag and a couple of tomes and staves from a saddle bag and slung them over her shoulder, and she waved to her troops. "You all get some rest! Hilda, come on," she called to her closest friend, "We're gonna find a bath and something to drink and have a girls... night?" She turned slowly in a circle, looking around curiously, then at Karlov.
"Karlov, where's Hilda?"
Karlov blinked and turned, scratching his neck. "Wha-- I... I don't know, Captain. Last I saw her was before the battle."
After a few seconds, a large wyvern coming in from the west landed and its rider climbed down. "One more for the body count," the knight sighed, laying down a woman's body with the other collected corpses. A crossbow bolt had pierced her side, and a trail of crusted vomit trailed down the woman's cheek from the poison on its tip. Gasps ran through the present members of Beatrix's company. The Valkyrie herself just stared.
Five minutes later, Esmerelda could hear a familiar whining cry approaching her. This would be a night of sobbing, comforting, raging, and most of all, drinking.
Just like the last six times Beatrix lost a lieutenant.------------------- -jiggle-
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Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2010 6:01 pm
...The general of the victors just had an air of irritation, for Ezekiel. He couldn't place his finger on it, but it pissed him off. Maybe it was the axe and the armor. Axes were used by barbarous thugs, and armor was for those who weren't confident in their ability to take a few steps to the side or step backwards. Plus, he had the gall to sling insults at him. At HIM, of all people!
Ezekiel was undoubtedly pissed. And the fact that this Caesar ingrate was even speaking to him, general or no, was only making it worse. So, he figured, he was likely going to die, one way or another. Why not, really?
"Feh." he said, spitting upon the man's boot. "You expect me to believe that, do you? There's no land where they call themselves Archaneans. And really..." he shook his head, shifting his weight away from that ugly axe. "You call me a barbarian, mongrel, when you didn't even do any of the work, for your troops. I on the other hand, fought alongside them, to the bitter end. The only wrong I have done was to keep myself out of the action for far too long."
The entire time during his mini-tirade, Ezekiel was calculating like clockwork. Really, it was either live, or die. And it didn't help him much when he thought about the unbridled hatred he held for both Estarcian Royalty and these... "Archanean" people. They were obviously Sentrian Bandits with a good mind on their wyverns. The prospect of people from some unknown land was beyond preposterous. But, he wouldn't have been in this disgusting predicament in the first place, if he hadn't been assigned to this disgusting rat's den of a fort. And who sent him there? The King. And who was it that ignored his noble birth, forcing him to waste years of his life doing solo research to get the meager pile of influence he had? The Estarcian Nobility. And really, what did he have, now? His useless fort held up like parchment in a deluge. His subjects were brutally murdered, and who knew what happened to the useless civilians? And on top of it all, he lost a battle, lost a fort, and the lives of many avatars of incompetence were allegedly on his shoulders, because they couldn't defend themselves.
He'd wanted to show the King and his rats the force of his flames for years. And by the looks of it, he would finally have a chance...
"Well, then, it seems I'm quite forced into this decision. I'm glad you're smart enough to see how valuable an asset I am." Ezekiel really saw himself as quite the silvertongue, when it really, really mattered. "So, when do I get to meet the other generals?" Of course, the only ones he cared for were the leader of those lizard-rats, and that nearly silent woman that stopped him with one strike. For all he cared, the rest of them, plus that repugnant general, could roast in the flames of his homemade hellfire. He never did forget that if things didn't work out with this bunch, he definitely had more than enough options...
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Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2010 6:31 pm
•~•~•
Esmerelda smiled quietly when the battle seemed to be over, putting her current arrow back into its quiver. She turned to a blond man near her, astride a lean paint horse, with his arrow loose in one hand as he returned an arrow to his quiver. "Neil. How does the squadron look?"
The man looked over at his commander and, with an accommodating flick of the reins, directed his horse closer to the black-haired woman to converse with her. "We've lost four or five men from the bombs, and three more to poison. Thankfully, the others that have been hit by the arrows were either already dealt with by Beatrix's men and women, or they are being tended to now. Casualties, overall, are fairly minimum." He ran a hand through his yellow hair, pushing the mop away from his eyes as he peered off towards the fort. It was a real surprise for a short-sighted man like him to be such a crackshot, but what do you know. Maybe he was faking it. "The general seems to have everything under control inside, and none of the enemy troops have tried fleeing."
Esmerelda nodded. As much as inflicting more damage upon the opponent was good, if it meant losing her entire squad, it wasn't worth it. Something she would never understand about Lancelot, why he was fully willing to let his faithful soldiers kill themselves in a blaze of glory, rather than re-direct them to let them live longer, while still damaging the enemy (albeit with much less impact) if it meant them being able to continually respond to the opposing force.
Nhhheh. Thinking about him too much gave her a headache.
"Very good, Neil... very good to hear." Esmerelda smiled and brushed her bangs off of her hair. "Make certain with Ophelia that the wounded don't move around until they've been healed, and check around for any stray shots, ones that haven't broken, we don't know where we'll be able to find supplies, and the more arrows we can salvage from missed shots, the bet...ter..."
Esmerelda's eyes turned as she heard someone approaching, someone sniffling and crying. She put one hand on her hip, other hand still holding her bow, and paused. Beatrix. Beatrix crying.
...Another lieutenant.
"Beatrix... Beatrix, it's all right," Esmerelda murmured, hugging the older woman. She rubbed the Valkyrie's back in an attempt to reassure her. There was no way to know who, exactly, had been lost, but it had always been her reason to come to her like this in the past. The Sniper still had to wonder why, exactly, Beatrix came to her when something like this happened, but she supposed it was only natural, what with her being the only other female Captain in this company. Well, there was also Milan, yes, but Milan was a difficult woman to warm up to. It took specific people to do that; Beatrix didn't seem to be one of those people.
She rubbed Beatrix's back in silence, then, Neil quietly departing to check on the other members of his company to allow them a bit of privacy.
•~•~• My answer is...
→I will always be here.←
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Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2010 6:46 pm
LANCELOT The first wave of riders collapsed as they were supposed to, their hollers of bloodlust cut horribly short by the rain of arrows that pierced their bodies. Archers scattered before the impending slaughter that came in the form of the flying dead- some fell through the divots opened up by the wyverns as their corpses crashed and skidded off of the stone ledge, while others were actually smashed by the corpses themselves, unable to maneuver in time to avoid the dense bodies that smeared them into the stone as if they were nothing but a pulpy paste that needed to be smoothed out. Bones snapped and crackled, echoing off of the stone amidst the chaos as the soldiers witnessed their comrades' bodies flatten and burst open from the impact of those deceased war mounts.
Lancelot had trained them well- not a single man in his brigade shirked from death, even when it was their own brothers, sisters, or just comrades in arms. The second wave picked off what few had managed to stay on the ledge- those poor unfortunate souls who had dodged the war mounts and had fired bravely at the second wave, only to be gutted by lances or have their ribs punched in with the blow of a war hammer. Those archers who hid in the wings managed to unseat nearly half of the riders, with the mounts faring little better- those whose riders died immediately thrashed out, charging directly at the archers and letting their momentum carry them into a death charge as their bodies filled with arrows that punched through their thick hides.
The half that survived swept up past the third wave of attackers, who pulled back upon realizing that the eastern and southern sectors had taken to them rather poorly- and still, three of their riders did not pull up in time. Their bodies fell into the courtyard, unable to open their wings and glide until they could aim their crippled bodies at the walls. The enemy had learned quickly, shooting at the flight muscles near the pectorals- with those hit, the wings could no longer open. The muscles themselves were either torn past repair or simply quivered so much that flight was just as impossible.
He hadn't even realized that the skirmish was over- but having lost more than half of his brigade, Lancelot gave the begrudging order to pull back. He'd get archer support from one of the other units (most likely from Esmeralda, who'd probably heckle him for it later) before attempting to- quite literally- tackle the Southern and Eastern walls.
His support had all but vanished. Though he heard the riderless ones continue their climb and pull themselves over the edge to attack those responsible for their injuries, he knew that something was deathly wrong- never had his losses been so steep.
Where was Hilda?
Sweeping over the brigade where his Fortify support was supposed to be fairly constant, Lancelot guided his unit into a steep dive before leaping off of Mordred as she flew past. It was a fairly stupid move- he felt his knees scream in protest after only a five foot fall, as his armor certainly didn't help his total weight. Hiding a wince and looking to the weeping woman, he suddenly realized why his support hadn't come. Nothing else would make Beatrix break down and cry like this.
Hilda was dead.
A part of him wanted to at least acknowledge her demise- but he knew better than to curse himself and his brigade by speaking the names of the dead. Beatrix would understand- he'd been with her for the others, after all, and never once brought their names up again.
Looking instead to Esmeralda, he followed her only for a moment, his eyes lifting to the sounds of warfare above.
"I need your brigade to help me with the Eastern wall- but damn it all, I didn't see Caesar at all when I flew over here. His entire brigade's gone missing. Did they start the siege?"۞ Luck be a Lady ۞
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Posted: Wed Jan 06, 2010 6:59 pm
•~•~•
Esmerelda was still comforting the brunette when she heard the familiar sound of metal armor clanking towards her. She opened her dark brown, nearly black eye to see Lancelot standing a short distance away, looking vaguely uncomfortable before focusing on something that he found more important.
"I need your brigade to help me with the Eastern wall- but damn it all, I didn't see Caesar at all when I flew over here. His entire brigade's gone missing. Did they start the siege?"
Esmerelda took in a deep breath through her nose. Even from her position, she could tell how he had lost so many of his men, and yet he was willing to continue on with whatever number he had remaining? Who knew if any of the survivors were even any of his lieutenants... The Sniper bit back a corrosive response, keeping her voice level and quiet as she patted Beatrix's back reassuringly.
"The battle's already been won, Lancelot. Caesar hasn't just started the siege, he's finished it. Get your men--or rather, what's left of them--over to Karlov and Benoit. If they're injured, they need to be tended to as soon as possible." Esmerelda murmured something for Beatrix and rubbed her hand over her back in small circles.
The temptation was too great. "And Lancelot?" she added, both eyes open now, darkening as her expression grew more serious. "I'd suggest not letting your soldiers take the enemy out with them next time. Enfolding defects into the ranks isn't assured, and if you pick off all your men in battle, you'll be left alone and powerless. Think ahead next time, for once, please. Would do you some good."
•~•~• My answer is...
→I will always be here.←
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Posted: Thu Jan 07, 2010 2:16 pm
A man whom can conquer his fear can strive to conquer the world.>x-General Caesar-x< Not only was his captive having the nerve to call his country, his homeland wasn't real, and that the banners his troops proudly waved were that of a land of fantasy. His glare got fiercer now as his gaze bore into that of Ezekiel, not for a second losing the razor-sharp tongue that he spoke to the sniper with. "I would watch what I say if I were you. Unless you've forgotten what position you happen to be in." It was clear enough to the Archanean General that his enemy was trying to taunt him into a blind fury, so maybe there would be a chance to escape. While it might have worked on an ordinary man not trained in the ways of war, it wouldn't work on someone with enough experience to know better.
And he also had the gall to criticize the tactics of Antonio, Caesar's most trusted of strategists. The sage had always made sure that he and the other commanding officers were safe as possible on the chaos that was their battlefields. Without the leaders, the followers would be lost, so keeping those in charge alive and well was one of the most important keys to victory. Caesar did not feel the need to explain this to his prisoner though. He was as low as any of the other barbarians he raised his axe against, and didn't deserve his words on that matter.
What was this? Now this Estarcian wanted to meet the others? What was it about his voice that seemed to be a sudden... change of heart? It almost seemed like Ezekiel was willing to be alongside Caesar, but it wasn't like he would let him get close yet. "My comrades will be here shortly..." he simply answered, expecting an ironic entrance from Lancelot shortly after.
Maybe the Wyvern Lord was the one best suited for taking this captured sniper and using his abilities for the benefit of the Legion. If Caesar's luck went well enough (and incidentally Lancelot's), the fortress's former leader might even take to the mad schemes of the Wyvern Captain. Everyone knew what happened next after that.
« ● ● ● ● ● ● »
All will fall to that which is greater, this is an inevitable truth.
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Posted: Thu Jan 07, 2010 10:24 pm
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~Felix~ ﻬ~The Cerulean Champion
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯¯⋟
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~As the cavalry charged the cracked walls, civilians poured hot oil down the sides of the fort. "Watch out! Fall back," Felix commanded. Sadly, he was seconds too late. Sweltering grease fell onto his unfortunate soldiers. Their agonizing cries made him cringe. He had to stop this pain. Somehow.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~"Garet, give me your javelin," Felix ordered in a serious voice. The lieutenant did as he was commanded quickly out of fear of his commander’s sudden change in demeanor. Felix inspected the weapon, determining if it would do the job he wanted. "Yes, this will fly nicely." He flicked Joel’s reign hard. The horse galloped at full speed towards the wall. With the momentum building up, Felix threw the javelin with all his might at the soldier commanding the civilians to rain fire onto the Archaneans. Just before reaching the scorching liquid, Joel slowed and reared back. He knew better than to get too close to that stuff. Other brave souls fell to this trickery but he would not.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~With their leader fallen, the common people stopped their attacks then fled to the lower levels. The fight on the eastern front also slowed as Lancelot attracted the attention of the archers. General Caesar and his men traveled past them on their way to the back entrance created by Antonio. One would have to be deaf to not hear the closer explosion as ice destroy stone wall. Felix knew something must have happened at the front gate if they were moving this way, but decided not to question the general’s decision to leave Esmeralda and Beatrix in charge of the north. The gate was probably heavily covered in traps.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~After a few moments, the fighting died down even more. Their enemy’s leader must have been captured or killed. This battle was won by the Legion, but not without some sacrifice. Joel trotted to the cavalry’s second-in-command who had just returned from taking Benoit back to his original regiment.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~"How did we fare," Felix asked hoping for positive news.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~"We lost three of our great knights, four paladins, and five cavaliers. Few others had been injured but overall there weren’t many casualties, sir," Isaac replied.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~Felix frowned. "That’s still too many for my liking. I’ll go see how the others are." The lieutenant only nodded in response.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~Heading towards the others, he spotted Lancelot standing across from Esmerelda who had a hand on Beatrix’s back. The valkyrie was weeping massive tears.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~"What’d I miss?"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~≼_______________________________________________
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Posted: Fri Jan 08, 2010 3:17 pm
╚ Strategy without tactics is the slowest route to victory. ╗ Antonio The legion's forces had infiltrated the fort and swept through it. Those who insisted upon opposing or running were killed, and those who surrendered, depending on which commander the unit who was doing the capturing served under, were either killed or taken into custody. The battle was over, the fort now belonged to the Legion.
At word that the commander of this fort had been secured, Antonio began to investigate the layout of the building. As he approached the front of the fort, he ordered all movement to cease. The sage noticed that there were holes in the walls, and thus carefully made his way over to one of them. Upon further inspection, Antonio led himself to behind the walls and saw that those holes were sprayers that had been filled with poison. He looked down at a fallen archer that had died in defense of the fort and picked up an arrow from inside the corpse's holder. He could see that the arrowhead had been dipped in poison as well. Antonio scoffed.
The tactician made his way back out to the main area of the building, and ordered extreme caution in the disabling of the traps. The contraptions would only hinder the Legion, before it could be used to aid them, if not dealt with. After issuing that order, one of Antonio's men approached and gave news that some empty rooms had been located that could be used as cells. The order was swiftly given to dispatch the captives and hold them there. Antonio looked around once more, to see if there was anything else that needed to be done. Aside from the orders just given, the wounded were beginning to be tended to, and the dead hauled away, along with the rubble, as needed. The soldiers had things in motion, for now. It was time to meet with the General.
After some questioning, Antonio discovered that General Caesar had made his way into the fort and was now on his way to where the captured commander was. Antonio followed that path. As he reached the doorway, he paused and listened for a moment. Though shocked by what he had heard, the tactician entered the room. "I sincerely hope that my ears have just deceived me, General. It sounded as if you just invited this man to join us." Antonio looked at the man with particularly ridiculous hair, and narrowed his eyes. "This man uses attainted tactics such as poison which, though I can recognize as an effective method, has never been something you have approved of." He looked back at Caesar. "Furthermore, this is the man who had just issued the order to attack your men, which caused the loss of life for several of them. Only now that his only hope for victory has been doused does he wish to become our ally. He shamefully turns away from his country and all his comrades easily. Allowing him to be a part of our force will surely result in him betraying us, should he get the opportunity. If you wish to get information out of him, I find that most cowardly people tend to speak much when the price for not doing so is their death."
Antonio nodded his head to the General, and turned around, readying himself to depart. "I have spoken my thoughts. You wished for this fort to be yours, and I have delivered it to you. If you wish for this despicable individual to join us, then just know that I am against it, and am sure that many of the others will be, as well. I will now go and research all information I can about this country, and prepare our strategy for the conquest." After speaking these words, the tactician left the room, and set out to do what he had just said. Valuable information was sure to be in this fort, and it would come to be of good use.
[A hailstorm approaches] ╚ Tactics without strategy is the noise before defeat. ╗
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