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Post by ashenmoon on May 18, 2015 17:51:37 GMT
Turn 8 - ends on Wednesday 20Link: dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/14467358/eclipse/eclipse_dominion_tactical_135908aaf_008.jpgGeneralThe sun sinks glowering redly through hazy distances. Rim not yet touching the horizon, early bright stars glimmer faintly alight in the east, far removed from the chaos below. Princess Maurielle Alatol of House JahimisRiding side by side with Kavad Kastorian, Maurielle Alatol, daughter of Jahimis, descended the slopes at the tip of a spear formed by the might of the Dominion - a cavalry charge, hurtling towards it goal: the Republic lines forming ahead. To her left, she saw the rest of her force attacking from the north - the timing could not have been more perfect! But it was too late. Republican soldiery wheeled to face their charge. The first ranks kneeled, the second crouched, the third reached high, fire-sticks bristling. Breath caught, Maurielle was carried on, the charge now unstoppable, much too late to turn aside, as moment after thundering moment passed and the enemy came closer and closer- When the cavalry was almost upon them, they fired. A ripping sound, as if the world was rent asunder. The scream of horses, of men launched from their saddles, of the lines behind crashing into those ahead - mayhem! So it would be won by the blade, this fray - each step of the ground hard-fought and bloodied, against an enemy with nowhere to run. High Palatine Manlia Suren IssanderBugles screamed, a chorus cleaving through the chaos callously, a dagger driven into the heart of men. And the Republic advanced. Led by the banner of the First Citizen, Avus Gula, they marched mercilessly on Gideon’s faithful, preceded by artillery blasts breaking the world before their onset. Hundreds, thousands were trampled under their heavy boots. Riding south, the High Palatine found the remains of the Jahimi recruits cruelly decimated. Even so, the Thunder Inevitable prepared to charge - when, suddenly, they found themselves exposed, the ground around them exploding with cannon fire from two directions - caught in a crossfire! The Horde around him scattered, divided, leaderless... The High Palatine swore. Prince Kansar SistorianExtracting his men from the battle was difficult, the Republican pike regiments refusing to budge. Cutting south and then east, Prince Kansar - gaining a higher vantage point - gazed north in confusion. All was fluid, moving - and the High Inquisitor was fleeing across the plains! Calling the charge, he swept forth - on the hunt.
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Post by conumbra on May 20, 2015 3:41:23 GMT
Times like these, the world seemed to slow down and almost come to a halt. Battles often were won with the shortest of decisions, and with such a capable force, she couldn't risk being indecisive. She wasn't concerned with the ensuing melee around her; she did not fear danger from such a source, but if this continued her own troops would be turned to dust under this assault. It could be done, but with significant casualties. No way out of it unfortunately...except one. The situation looked bleak for the troops she's managed to surround, and she knew they would be slaughtered. But there would be better ways to use her men than sending them into a pestle to be ground up. Still, the troops inside the circle, unless they were completely insane, must know the hopelessness as well. Granted, the Inquisitor may have trained them in his delusions, but this risk was worth taking. She managed to step back from the carnage and blew her horn once more, to draw the attention of the troops she faced. Kavad stared at her with a mixture of bemusement and annoyance, but she ignored him for the moment. "Men of the Republic," she said, straining her voice as loud as it would go, "you are surrounded on all sides! If you continue like this, you will die, far from your homes and loved ones! Your graves will be unmarked, your weapons and armour broken! Lay down your arms and surrender, and you may yet live to see the great shining beaches of Falor! Stay and continue with this farce, and your only reward will be a mass burial with the rest of your countrymen. We ask for no tribute or obeisance beyond this! Any who throw down their weapons and move into the middle will be spared! The rest, your fates are sealed" She turned to Kavad, who remained inscrutable within his armour. His voice, however, had the timber of a man so angry that he'd be liable to do something foolish. If she didn't leash him, he'd countermand her every request. "Miss Jahimis, I must protest!" he said, inching his horse away from the mass of men. "We have them on the ropes! A mere hour and we'd slaughter the lot of them down to the last man!" "Certainly, I have no doubt you'd kill every one of them. I do not doubt your skill at battle commander, but we have precious time to waste. See that?" She pointed up the hill, handing him her viewing scope to see the enemy congregating in the distance. "That is our next big hurdle. By the time our men finish this task, they'll be tired, weary. And the sun is about to fall Commander. Soon it shall be night, and if we continue with this as is, not only will our troops be injured, but fatigued as well. We need to wrap this up quickly or by the time we deal with that mass of men the Republic's got, our men will be in no shape to do so. Besides, your men are not suited for this task. Take the cavalry back and join your lord, you will be of more use there. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some reinforcements to redirect." She turned to gently stroke a hand through a lion's fur as they readied themselves to continue the assault. "Make my words known to those we face, brave ones. Some may not have heard my generous offering." When she had noticed the mass of Republic gathering, an error became apparent. If she did not correct this, her men would needlessly perish under the brick that was being formed. She rode, taking a loop, riding over the hills to meet with the moving units and to quickly redirect them. If they kept moving straight they'd smack right into the walls of pikemen. She quickly rode to make both groups curve around to the west; they could still do damage, just from a much better positioned angle. That, and the eagles' role of messenger was over. Time for them to go to work on that concentrated force. On her way back, she made a quick detour, urging the Fogmakers to join up with the easternmost unit of troops, to use their skills to shield them from enemy cannonfire on the way. (OOC: Planning MapR11 and the other friendly troops will continue the assault, sparing those that lay down their weapons and gather in the center; once the task is complete, they are to follow the cavalry and assault the mass from the west. C4 to roar out Maurielle's surrender offering to the Falorans during combat R4 to join up with the rest of the Sistorian cavalry The troops around R8 and R10 will curve around, looping around to the west as fast as they can to avoid cannonfire, then afterwards moving south to attack the Republic On the way, troops from those formations can fire at enemies, but they must keep up movement R3 to join up with the troops around R10 to provide concealment and a smokescreen P9 will come back and hurl large boulders at the concentrated mass of Republic troops)
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Post by Timeon on May 20, 2015 20:41:00 GMT
The tide of zealots swarming over the Republican positions - spearheaded by the Thunder Inevitable. It had been a song. A bitter tear ran down Manlia's cheek, trailing mascara with it. But the vibrating string of music had been stilled, and the song, silenced. Then Folgar was by his side, the northman blackened by fire and pain. "How?" Manlia's teeth bared like rigor mortis. "They should have been swept aside by the fearlessness, by the madness-" Though it was suddenly clear, as the banner of First Citizen Avus Gula beat against the wind. Gideon had not been the only fanatic here, Manlia realised, watching the advance of his hated foes. No, mad zealotry could not be the sole child of the Dominion. Yet as all hope faded, a new light broke on the horizon, one to rival the setting sun. The Brilliance of House Sistorian. Thousands upon thousands of knights, lining the hills, terrified men scattering before them. A force of nature. The Sistorian art was war. As soil flew about him, Manlia grasped his reins as firmly as he gripped the reins of victory, refusing to let go. They were too close. He wheeled his horse, soil splattering around him. The fanatics looked to him and the Thunder Inevitable, unsteady, but consistent. Theirs was the last command. Manlia Suren Issander cried out till his throat was bloodied. "Radiance yet lives! The fire inside you, do not turn from it! The fear! Embrace it!" The fanatics gathered amidst the chaos and carnage, the Falorans, and they hailed him in their desperation. "Look, brethren! Your faith has not been in vain! Deliverance!" And he pointed to the Sistorian cavalry, a golden stain on the hills, marshalling. And then he spurred his horse into motion. The Thunder Inevitable, in voices barely of this world, boomed. "Radiance... lives!"And they charged, following the High Palatine west, across the plains. Avus Gula would no doubt try to erect an impenetrable barrier around the artillery, but Manlia intended to deny him that opportunity, just as he intended to swarm over the fleeing Republicans while they were at their most vulnerable - when the fanatics would most easily rip them to shreds, and exact what it was they had come for. Then the world turned dizzying white, and noise rushed in. Blood gushed from Manlia's nostrils, splattering the mane of his horse. Manlia saw the fanatics charge past, the Thunder Inevitable with them... and then he toppled. Smoke and fragments of metal arched through the air past him. He watched three of his personal guard clutch their chests and heads and howl screaming to the floor, dying. Folgar was with him in moments. When he spoke, Manlia saw that he had chipped a tooth, and his teeth had turned red. "Your Grathe." he fumbled, though it was quickly clear that the man must have bitten his tongue. He lifted Manlia and slung him over one shoulder. Manlia had been hit by cannon fire - and his personal guard had paid the price, the wards and runes erected in the High Palatine's defence sustained by their own powers. "To battle, Folgar." Manlia cooed, scratching at the man's back. "Folgar!" But the bastard had a mind of his own. He lifted Manlia up to the nearest of the mounted bodyguards, and himself climbed back atop Manlia's steed. They did not heed Manlia's words. "I must lead! Folgar!" "You Grace." the man who bore him spoke. "We will take our own lives for our disobedience once you are safe, but if your life is lost, here, now, then Varantium and any hope we have die with you." " F-Folgar!" - (H5, R8 and P5 are to join Kansar Sistorian in his assault. Manlia Suren Issander is to ride for the northernmost reinforcements - R21, C18, R10 and C5. Upon arrival, it is to be ensured that they do not charge south, but rather arc west and then south, so as to attack Avus Gula from the west. As mentioned prior, also, the fields before the Ediren plains have been doused in lantern oil, and the C18 may set areas of this on fire to create smoke to help protect from enemy artillery 10 and 6, at Manlia's order.Manlia would also have them spread out to avoid artillery fire. After the rendezvous with these regiments, Manlia is to be taken towards Orian in the east.)
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Post by ashenmoon on May 21, 2015 16:58:57 GMT
Turn 9 - sunset - ends Monday 25th Link: dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/14467358/eclipse/eclipse_dominion_tactical_135908aaf_009.jpgGeneralThe sun setting at their backs, the Republican army retreats, step by step, while fighting off wave after wave of the Dominion onslaught. Leaving thousands of their dead on the ground, almost it seems they have made good their escape - when, wearily stumbling down the slopes, their formation drifts apart for an instant. It is enough. The Dominion forces plunge into the weak spot - within minutes, a small mistake threatens new disaster. Through the dusky darkness flashes lights from the distant island of Aemilon. The dull whine of artillery falls harmlessly on the plains, short of the milling Dominion forces there - but not far short.
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Post by Devius on May 24, 2015 19:58:17 GMT
My body aches. My mind is numb. I have fought all day in scorching heat. I want nothing more than to collapse on the ground and rest.
But the end is within sight.
The rebels have broken under our might, and now we shall stomp out what's left. The breach in their retreat will be their final mistake. As long as it remains open, our victory is certain. I hoarsely call for a nearby regiment of pikemen to keep the gap open, together with the Thunder Inevitable. The rebels have no hope in closing the gap.
I spot the High Inquisitor's banner among the fleeing. The coward. My blood boils with anger yet again. But not yet. I will slay him last, burn him on a pyre of his comrades.
Instead, I turn my sights north. Three straggling regiments, separated from the rest. Easy pickings. I call for the Archonic Knights to join me in the slaughter.
(P5, followed by R20 are sent forward to engage enemy R5. Kansar, C1, and C2 engage enemies R1, R1, and R7. P3 will charge through the gap and past the enemies to attack the cannons directly. The rest of Kansar's forces continue chasing down the enemies in front of them, attacking into the gap between enemy R2 and R8. No units will chase enemies that make it all the way down the hill, as it would bring them in range of the cannons.)
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Post by conumbra on May 25, 2015 6:01:45 GMT
The fighting has gone on for so long; even women like Maurielle could grow tired. The constant focus, the constant energy required to move pieces on the largest gameboard ever conceived, weighed heavy. Sleep would be a relief from this burden, she knew. Move here, move there, every movement having to be done with quick responsiveness. A resource that would soon become limited as night came, and fatigue settled in amongst the men. At least the spirits would have no need for sleep, though perhaps even they would get bored. Constant attention on one's job is a burden no matter whether they be spirit or human.
The gap in the lines invigorated her. Here was a way to press their advantage! At once, her mind snapped back too attention. The rhinoceroses were to move into the gap. If there was any being capable of holding that spot, it was they. The noisemakers, their primary job done, would now move to distract the southern Inquisitors, drawing them away from the units they would normally support. They'd perform their obvious and loud magics for all to see, bolstering the Horde's capabilities while drawing Inquisitor attention to them. But they would not engage them; instead if Inquisitors drew, they were to retreat, hopefully drawing them away.
There were other jobs as well. The Fogmakers, finished with concealment, were to go ahead and shroud the southern edge of the breach with their mists, covering the units advancing to melee range while frustrating any ranged attacks on their position. The Last Argument, free to unleash its potential, was to aim its powers at the enemy cannons in an attempt to destroy them and render the greatest threat useless.
(C3 to enter the breach and hold it. R7 to move to Southern Horde, attempt to drag Inquisitor attention, retreat once Inquisitors begin approaching R3 move to unprotected flank of R2 and R8, cover the units moving southwards in mist R2 to prioritize targeting enemy cannons, moving in closer if not in range)
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Post by Timeon on May 26, 2015 2:10:53 GMT
There was an inn up ahead, on the road to Orian. They galloped for it as the waves of battle crashed across the Ediren Hills behind them. As the sun set, Manlia watched with awe as the Curia amidst the Last Argument rained their terrifying power against thousands of retreating Republicans - until suddenly - the Republican lines were broken. A screech alerted Manlia to the Sistorian eagles, returning from Orian. Their attention caught, Manlia called for his guards to signal them, and so it was done. A rider trotted up to Manlia, reporting that Captain Juluc had not suffered at the hands of the Republican forces of the Aemilon. Manlia fluttered a smile - the Captain had kept order, had delivered.
Cannonfire roared from the Aemilon nonetheless - aimed at the fanatics surging beneath the Ediren Hills, gnawing at the Republican flank.
"Strike at the Republican artillery which prove most effective against us!" he commanded, and the Sistorian eagles cried their approval, tearing great chunks of stone from the road and from the earth as they flew to obey.
When the party reached the inn, they found that dirtied and sometimes torn faces leering from the windows. Smashed furniture leaked out from the front door, along with an outstretched and limp arm. Folgar's axe was out as the half-northman edged his way forward. Several fanatics shuffled out upon his approach, and fell to their knees, eyes flickering to and fro.
Manlia lowered himself from behind one of his bodyguards, and hid his new-found limp as he approached the inn.
"The battle is won!" Manlia cried, raising a fist. The fanatics fell forward to prostrate themselves, tired, empty. Defeated.
"Begging your pardon, Your Grace." one of the fanatics managed - a grey-haired grandfather of a man, his skin drawn tight. "But what is it we've won?"
"We've won a tomorrow for ourselves, and for this land that sired us." Manlia came to a halt before them, swaying slightly. "That may mean nothing to you. But it will. Soon."
Gideon's fanatics had held Manlia Suren Issander in high esteem for his opposition to decadence, despite the fanatics embracing it. For their tenet, after all, was to burn away impurity by exposing it to the sun. Redemption in debauchery. A twisted contradiction, to be sure. But in Manlia they saw a shining example of an ideal nonetheless. Yet in these exhausted men Manlia could see no worship, only death.
"There hasn't been a tomorrow for us for a long time, Your Grace." the man said, palms upward. "Let's face it. We came here to die. And we failed. Because we were afraid."
"Who are you?" Manlia asked, brushing grey hairs out of the man's face, taking his strong chin in one hand.
"Albor, Your Grace. Born and raised in a merchant's family in Senusa. Lost everything when the Republic came. My hatred fed me, for a time. Now all is ash in my mouth, and even wine has turned bitter. I was so sure I could find an escape-"
"In this cult?" Manlia gestured. "Belief is strong, but deeds are stronger, Albor. Deeds plough the earth. Belief is nothing without practice."
"Your Grace." Albor murmured, averting his eyes, no doubt used to the scorn of his betters. Yet that was not Manlia's message.
"You misunderstand me, Albor." Their eyes met. "Gideon did not die in vain. None have this day, in the Ediren Hills. We have earned our tomorrow. I will restore to you what you lost, Albor. Those who have come to take away our families, our homes, our wealth... they falter. The Republic, Albor. And many amongst the Curia, in their inaction. They are to blame."
Manlia took a step back, and extended his hand. Albor took it, though he flinched upon contact. Manlia pulled him to his feet, and motioned for the other fanatics to do the same. "Gideon is dead, and so I will lead you. To something better than his delusions. Spread the word, Albor. Tonight I will address your kin. Today we are all reborn, for deeds have come to mean more than words. The Gods do not hear words. They hear deeds. And so we will stir their hearts and open their eyes. And if the Republic had not already razed the Mansion of Nish-Sapur I swear to you I would tear it down with my own hands. The Gods will hear us, Albor."
(R9, the eagles, to strike at active enemy artillery where most effective - that is to include artillery on the Ediren Hills if they start firing. Manlia is to continue on to Orian)
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Post by ashenmoon on May 29, 2015 19:18:02 GMT
Turn 10 - early night - ends Monday 25th Link: dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/14467358/eclipse/eclipse_dominion_tactical_135908aaf_010.jpgDominion generalDirges floating on the wayward winds of the night reached Kansar Sistorian’s ears, piercing his aching head. Funeral rites for the dead, the many dead. The last embers of the day gasped their last, painting his tear-tracked face with gentle luminescence. He sat, back turned to the distant enemy lines, ignoring the dull throb of artillery pummelling the Ediren hills, surrounded by kinsmen scattered over the slopes - or what remained of them, at least. The earth crumbled under his numb fingers, the skin of the world scuffed and worried loose after the day’s madness. Closing his eyes, the Prince remembered... ~ (turn 9) Spurred on by the Prince of House Sistorian’s war cries the Dominion cavalry rushed forth, shunting companies of Republican outriders aside, chasing after the High Inquisitor’s banner. Peeling layers of defences off like a snake shedding skin the column of retreating Republicans fought a running battle, first leaving thousands of their kin surrounded in the hills, then hundreds more scattered across the plains, trapped between the pincers of Sistorian cavalry in the south and Jahimi reinforcements from the north. In the centre, the First Citizen’s force met with the remains of General Garrek’s command. Skeins of Dominion zealots drifted about them while they formed a hasty square, while mere minutes away came Gori’s fleeing men at the tip of a charge of ten thousand Dominion soldiers. Abandoning their spiked cannons, the Republicans rushed to the shelter of the First Citizen’s formation as the enemy charge washed against them. From the south the Thunder Inevitable, the mastodon spirit-beasts, announced themselves and joined the cavalry charge, driving a wedge into the milling confusion. Entire regiments of Republican soldiers were driven apart from the main force and destroyed to a man. Hundreds fled north, only to be hemmed in by new Dominion lines marching across the valley floor. The heat of battle yet upon them, the Dominion force turned on the still-shaken Republican formation and charged. Singing their gods’ praises, they thundered across the ground, lances lowered. One volley, then two of gunpowder discharge - but not enough to stop them. Bloody melee unfolded across the entire front lines. The first ranks of the Republican lines were swallowed whole, inundated, disappearing beneath the weight of the Dominion onslaught… … and like the rocks of the sea, reappeared as the momentum of the charge was lost, and the Dominion fell back from the hard, fast bayonets and unwavering, bristling pikes. Republican trumpets blared the signal for retreat. Shuffling, crushed shoulder to shoulder, confusion still reigning after absorbing the survivors of the western forces, the Republican lines crept back a short distance. Then the Dominion swept forth again. The Thunder Inevitable, tusks sweeping through men like scythes, and Archonic Knights blistering with magic. The Republican lines were riddled by a hundred swift strikes, seeking weaknesses… and finding none. Again and again, the Republic yielded a hundred steps, then two hundred, before the ocean of Dominion warriors swept against them once more. It seemed the Sistorian cavalry were all but exhausted, and the Republicans were descending the first slopes towards the safety of the far-away river, when fresh Dominion forces arrived. Charging downhill, they found a weakness in the joint of the Republican flanks where the retreat had drifted them apart - and a breach was made. ~ (turn 10) Brilliance gleamed dully on the ground beside him. He watched it for some time, unthinking. Somewhere nearby, Kavad Kastorian’s upset voice was raised - arguing with Kansar’s guards, trying to get an audience. We had them, he thought to himself. We had them. “What madman,” Kavad was screaming, “pits cavalry against heavy infantry?” ~ The Dominion crashed into the breach. Less a charge and more the inevitable force of a dam collapsing, the pent-up weight of their attacks was unleashed all at once. Companies of Republican soldiers were swallowed whole, disappearing behind Dominion lines as thousands pressed into the opening, forcing it wider. Too crowded to maneuver, the Thunder Inevitable brayed above, shoving themselves forward, triumphantly leading the way. Laughing with elation, the Dominion - flush with victory - cried out as one: “Ten thousand years!” The Dominion charge had become, for an instant, concentrated on a single point. With a sound as of worlds colliding, with the scream of a thousand dying, the Republic met that charge… Gori, High Inquisitor Gori, Pietro Gori of the flames and unforgiveness, stood the breach and two of his elite cadres, and several hundred more of their initiates, were there with him. For a moment, a second sun rose, blinding and bright. Outlines against its light, they were shadows, wavering yet unyielding.… and stopped it. The light winked out. And the Thunder Inevitable, howling in inhuman despair, turned on each other. Senseless, the beasts crashed head-to-head, caring nothing for their own lives or those of their former companions. Death came swirling down. Hundreds died in the first few minutes alone, trampling one another in their rush to escape. The momentum of the charge was turned against them as those in the back pushed forward, while those in the front lines fled the raging mastodons, recoiled from the tips of Republican pikes, or sought shelter from the unceasing patter of blackpowder discharges falling among them like rain. The Republican lines had ground to a halt. For the first time since the battle began, they held their lines and let the Dominion break itself against them. The tide of the Dominion receded. Knots of survivors made their way up the slopes, away from the battle. Thousands of reinforcements were yet pushing on from behind, not having had a chance to join the battle - the opportunity was not yet lost, they still had the strength to carry on. Chafing, they made their way across the blood-soiled ground… Artillery exploded among them. The day was over. ~ For several hours this afternoon, Kansar had seen the banner of the Republican General Garrek flying fiercely over the centre opposed his own Sistorian charges. There had been no mercy, no hint of doubt as they had clashed, again and again. Watching looters pick over the dead in the distance, he sighed. With the last light fast fading, he felt the hopes for a swift victory twist a final time, shivering, hanging in the balance - then disappear. Prince Kansar SistorianYour men have taken many prisoners. They could be used to send a message to the rest of the Republicans - a plea for reason, or a demonstration of strength… High Palatine Manlia Suren IssanderArriving at Orian, the High Palatine finds Juluc Smilebiter and Alexis Kata at each other’s throats. Upon seeing Gideon’s zealots following the High Palatine now, Alexis Kata’s scorn extends to Manlia as well. Apparently the bridge was never fully destroyed, as Republican countermeasurements were taken. Smilebiter, leveraging the fact that the High Palatine had given him command, had sent Kata’s Silvered Fire magi to hold off the enemy for as long as possible. After all, given the magi’s range they are able to stay out of harm’s way while inflicting great casualties on the Republicans trying to make it over the remains of the bridge to establish a bridgehead. Alexis Kata, however, is old blood and resents taking orders from a lowborn. Meeting with the High Palatine, she says: “You would save us with fire - leaving nothing left! Black Sun was right about you.” Princess Maurielle Alatol of House JahimisThe Sistorian prince and the High Palatine are both gone from the field, leaving you in charge of the main body of the army. From your vantage point you can make out the outlines of the Republican army by the trails of torches, pinpricks of lights, moving through the darkness. It seems they have yet to begun a retreat across to Aemilon - whether because the bridges have been destroyed, or for some other reason, you cannot discern. Just as you ponder your next step - perhaps send the Rhinoceros and Last Argument forward to harass the enemy, as neither company has seen anything more than the briefest of engagements during the day - you receive message from the city. Your father has arrived and is riding south to meet with you.
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Post by conumbra on Jun 1, 2015 16:47:05 GMT
Everything had been going so well up until that damn Inquisitor had taken to the field. In just under 2 hours they'd carved a nice fat chunk out of the Republic's army. They'd run, but their retreat had been shoddy, ill-managed. Holes in their defense were shown and were seized, great claws ripping out gashes in the Republic's belly. But the final blow eluded them like a piece of steak ripped from a hungry dog's jowls. Infuriating, to have your goals snatched away like that. She'd have to keep this going longer than expected, but she could manage. She'd kept control for the first day, it wouldn't take much more to keep going through the rest. As the sun set, she worked with Kansar, ordering the rest of the troops to camp and set up a defensive perimeter. A frontal assault now would be futile; their troops were fatigued, their resources spent. Maybe they could have kept on fighting but half their number would have keeled over from exhaustion. She took some small comfort in the knowledge that the other side was likely as fatigued. That, and the lack of available light meant their cannons would be reduced to merely guessing at targets rather than accurately firing as before.
The main body of the troops were to make a controlled withdrawal, moving to the town in the south. An easy location to set up a defensive perimeter, and far enough away from the cannons that they would be in danger from any stray shots hurled their way. She thought about harassing the enemy, using one of the unsent troops to harass and annoy. She discarded the rhinos as a possibility; they would be more useful defending the town and she didn't want a repeat of the disaster with the elephants; she couldn't afford such a useful lynchpin to be annihilated in that way. She was wary about sending in the Last Argument as well, but with their range they would be able to make a retreat if and when the Inquisitors came into view. They'd do well on the hill as well, where they could utilize what extra range they could receive. A risky thing, but doable, as long as everything was managed well. So as they were retreating, she tasked them with staying on the hill faving the Republic's troops, leaving behind a regiment of pikemen and the Noisemakers to protect them from attack. It took some effort to find the Noisemakers in all this swirling mass of movement, but she managed to convey the point. If an overwhelming response seemed imminent, the group was to make its way south where the rest of the troops were now headed. It wouldn't do to lose such a precious resource as the Last Argument.
She was just about ready to send out her orders, when a runner came to her with an urgent message. Quickly unfurling the sheet of dust-stained parchment, she read the news. Dammit, why now? Her father hadn't shown a hint of interest when she'd left to join the war effort. She'd fully expected him to hunker down and defend the Jahimis lands with what troops still remained there. A further wrinkle in things; she could not risk the possibility of some Republic patrol finding him. Forget the shame towards the family at having to ransom off their own patriarch, but he was her father! One of the smartest people she'd ever know, a worthy opponent to all he faced. She didn't know what sort of news could bring him here, but she doubted it was a simple visit. He didn't need to check up on her, he knew full well she was capable at her task. She also knew well enough that he wouldn't be dissuaded from this; she'd have better luck stopping a forest fire than convincing Father to turn around. She closed the parchment and returned it to the messenger.
"Tell Tilan Jahimis that he is welcome to join me in the town to the south. I shall send along the Rhinoceroses to ensure his safe passage. Steer him away from the burning fields and the Republic front-lines. If my father perishes at the hands of some Republic heathen, it will be your head on the chopping block." She sent the messenger away; further words were no longer needed, and she couldn't leave her post to meet Father. This was a crucial stage and the troops needed coordination. He'd understand that, surely.
As her eyes looked over the men and women getting ready to march, she spied the prisoners they'd managed to capture from their attacks. Few in number, but their existence could be put to great use. The High Palatine was a man of spectacle as well as war, likely he'd know what to do with them. As the rhinos left to find her father, she instructed them that they were to take the prisoners captured during recent engagements up north to Falor, where they could be given the proper treatment enemies received.
She set about coalescing the troops together and beginning the march southwards, to the town and some much needed rest for the troops. She could see it in their movement and posture; they could not afford to be active for much longer.
(OOC: Troops will make their way to the southern town down the road, will move to fortify it and set up camp. Cavalry will make semi-regular patrols around the bulk of the army to ensure no harassment from the other side. R2, R20 and R7 will stay behind, allowing R2 to bombard Republic troops from defensive position, begin retreat if Republic sets up concerted attack C5 to move north to escort Maurielle's father to the southern town, then will take the prisoners north to Falor, as many at a time as they can control)
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Post by Timeon on Jun 1, 2015 20:17:56 GMT
"Sacrifice your pride, Kata!" Manlia clenched his fist, as scarlet and ivory fire screamed through the night, to cast light over the Aemilon bridge and its Republican charge. "Or would you take command, inexperienced as you are in war, and lose us everything? What good is your pride against a bayonet? Black Sun was right. I will save us by fire, and from the ashes Varantium shall be reborn. If any here would challenge me, then let them stand where I stand, and take responsibility for saving this land. But not even Black Sun dares to leave her mansion."
Then he turned to Smilebiter, respect burning as fiercely as the fires before the Ediren. "You did as you were told, captain."
The man provided a gap-toothed grin. "I live to please you, Your Grace."
Manlia hesitated a moment, but then knew that further hesitation would only lead to more death in the long run. "Take the Jahimi, send them into the Republicans at the bridge. Take your Sappur Guard and the archers as well, captain. If the Jahimi are not hit by artillery, then send in the Sappur, in the wake of the Jahimi charge. Hold the bridge!"
He turned to Folgar, the elegant brute shifting uncomfortably before Kata's sweeping gaze. "Find Danton Redwind, Folgar. Tell him to infiltrate the enemy camp and strike at their cannon. But he is not to risk himself."
Just as Manlia was about to return to his steed, a familiar face emerged from the gaggled crowd. His Majordomo, Darien. "Your Grace!" the man was barely holding it together, his robes tattered. Though it was easy to see that it was grief which had turned to relief which animated him. "I feared the worst."
"At ease, old friend. The day is assuredly won. The Curia will listen now."
Then it happened.
The echo that was the demise of the Thunder Inevitable hit the High Palatine, nearly throwing him to the ground. He clawed at his face, the blind despair of his God mirroring his own. Young in comparison to Dawn Lantern and Black Sun as they were, the Thunder Inevitable were each of them Seraphs - born of Radiance's Spark itself. And somehow, they had fallen.
As Manlia Suren Issander gouged trenches in the dirt of Orian, a single realisation gave him some comfort.
Their deaths would create a spirit well. A rare bridge to the spirit realm. And the bodies of the fallen would become easy hosts for hordes of ravenous spirit, thirsting for Life, for Being. The dead would walk again, and the Republic would find itself confronted by a new Hell. However much the Inquisition may have practised for such an event, Manlia was sure that their generation had never before put such training into practice - just as the Republican army's tactics had proven the army's own inexperience.
Little comfort, for the High Palatine. He retched.
Darien helped him to his feet. A meaningful look passed between them. Manlia took his friend by the shoulders, leaned in for an embrace, and then whispered. "Desperation, Darien. It is time. The mercenaries are to start moving south. Secretly. Towards us here in Orian, but to remain in the hills if they must. Their weapons are to remain in the ox carts, concealed. Inform them also that abandoned cannon lie on the Ediren Hills. They are to be recovered by scouts, if possible. Identify them as soldiers of one minor house or another if necessary, Darien, as my right hand if you must. But do not let the true nature of our mercenaries come into the light."
Lastly, Manlia staggered to Albor, grasping the man by the cheek. "My son. Go to Falor. Rally the rest of Gideon's flock, and have them meet me northeast of Orian, by the fields of the town of Tilium."
(Jahimi recruits to charge the Republicans at bridge - if no disaster unfolds, Sappur Guard R14 to follow and hold it. Archers, R7, to follow after the Sappur. Retreat to Orian in case of enemy artillery.
R1 Bridge Burners are to set traps along the road leading to the nearby eastern town, and are then to hastily barricade it.
Manlia to station himself with the Silvered Fire magi.
Folgar to set out to find Danton Redwind and send him on a sabotage mission
Darien sent to contact secret units
Albor sent to contact the remaining horde)
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Post by Devius on Jun 1, 2015 20:46:51 GMT
We had them. The thought repeats itself for the last time in my mind. I did what any leader would have done, victory was certain. I remember Marialla, I learned.
But it was not enough.
Wars against the rebels have always been different from any other. Old tactics had to be adjusted or abandoned in the face of gunpowder. But it pales in comparison to what Inquisitors have done to the art of war. They do not even have a proper grasp of their stolen powers. All magic in their presence becomes random, unpredictable. They turn even the most well-planned and simple engagement into a coin toss, a dice roll, a gamble. Curse Gori, and all his kind. I did everything right, but it was not enough.
I force myself out of introspection, before it drives me mad. In the present, Kavad's complaints irritates my ears like a curious fly. I am too tired even to put him in his place, punish him for his inaction. I simply wave a hand and have my guards lead the Kastorian heir away from me.
This is no place to stay the night. I call to rally my forces, we must gather ourselves and our prisoners. I call for a march westward to rejoin with the regiments who were left there, afterwards we will make camps in the hills to the north.
As we ride, I call for all magi to report to me. Tycorro Tassar, loyal as ever, arrives first. He makes no comments on the failed assault, simply asks what's demanded of him. If Tycorro cannot find fault in my action, nobody can. His Archonic Knights and whatever other competent healers he can find among the other magi are to spend the night healing our wounded. It should give us a substantial advantage tomorrow, as the rebels gave up the gods' healing gifts for their rifles. Healing is a delicate procedure, attempts by the inquisitors' volatile nature would surely end in disaster.
(Kansar gathers what troops he can and leads them to meet up with the troops that were leftover in the west, rounding up all prisoners as well. Once all are gathered he will lead them to the hills in the north to make camp for the night there. C1 will heal any wounded that can be returned to a battle-ready state. If the fires in the east make rest difficult, available magi will divert it to the southeast with wind and water magic.)
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Post by ashenmoon on Jun 4, 2015 19:33:39 GMT
Turn 11 - ends Sunday 7th Link: dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/14467358/eclipse/eclipse_dominion_tactical_135908aaf_011.jpgPrince Kansar Sistorian
Moving west and north, the Prince rejoined forces with the western regiments - and found them in shambles. Apparently, the encircled Republican troops had fought tooth and nail to the very end. For hours, the Dominion forces had worn down their square, breaking through again and again only to be repulsed with terrible losses. When at last the Republican formation was definitely destroyed, several hundred Republicans - if not thousands - had broken through and fled south. Indeed, there had been a number of clashes with Republican survivors from other regiments as well, all heading south in the dark. Looking out at the mangled remains of the western forces, and considering his own cavalry's exhaustion, Prince Kansar proceeded north - let the Jahimis deal with any stragglers. Princess Maurielle Alatol of House Jahimis
Scouts sent out confirmed what the western forces claimed - scattered across the southern approaches of the Ediren hills were hundreds of Republican survivors, maybe even an entire regiment or two. Chasing after them in the dark would be a difficult prospect, however. Then her father arrived - and with him, Stormlight - the family spirit of House Jahimis! While Stormlight remained in his ornate palanquin, surrounded by seraph bodyguards and Sparked Jahimi relatives, Maurielle met with her father in the inn which she had requisitioned for the night. Tilan Jahimis ordered their attendants away, until he and his daughter were alone in the room. Then he explained the purpose of his visit. Dawn Lantern, liege lord of Stormlight and staunch ally of House Jahimis, had had enough of Black Sun's antics. While the brave men and women of the Dominion met the enemy on the field, Black Sun wreaked havoc behind their backs. Dawn Lantern himself could never take the field, and the Last Argument could never be at full strength, as long as Black Sun remained back in Falor. Dawn Lantern fears that if he left Black Sun alone, she might attempt a coup - or worse! Black Sun is holed up in a mansion on the eastern outskirts of Falor. With her is maybe two, three hundred of her followers - able magi and daimon, all. If House Jahimis showed up in strength, surely Black Sun could be made to see reason - for mere words had obviously failed so far. This all was, of course, extremely sensitive. And so Dawn Lantern had turned to his most trusted vassal, Stormlight, to... solve... the issue. Stormlight had turned to Tilan, and Tilan now turned to his daughter. High Palatine Manlia Suren IssanderNot long after ordering the counterattack, Republican flares and markers began sizzling through the night sky between Orian and the bridge. Artillery fire began peppering the open earth - a few at first, then more and more. Prudently, the High Palatine ordered his troops behind the safety of Orian's buildings.
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Post by Timeon on Jun 7, 2015 16:51:05 GMT
Having signalled one of the eagles to land, Manlia Suren Issander absorbed its rider's report within the town square of Orian.
"... the square, broken, the Republican infantry-"
"Destroyed." Manlia studied the hollow eyed woman before him, her face lit by the torches of Juluc's Sappur Guard around them. Night had fallen, but still, pockets of battle raged flared anew. Still, they could not rest.
"Not entirely." the rider winced. "They broke through the western army. Damesco Truseva, dead. Over a thousand remain in the Ediren Hills."
Manlia blinked - Lord Truseva... Renowned swordsman. A cornerstone of authority and tradition. A vassal of House Sistorian. Another one of the Great Names. Slain.
"They need to be routed out. Take a message to Grandmaster Valtorian-"
"Your Grace." the messenger dared to interrupt. "Grandmaster Valtorian is dead."
A thunderous silence.
Manlia's hands threatened to shake. Yet he exhaled. After so much lost, after so many dead, what was one more Great Name? What was one more friend? One more legend? One could only watch so much burn away before one could feel no more.
"Take word to Mistress Seda Suren. And to Princess Maurielle. Have your eagles find the stragglers in the western hills, and pinpoint their location to Princess Maurielle and the Lady Seda Suren. Finish them off. That is my Will."
The rider kissed the earth and flowed atop her mount, a lithe shadow atop the bronze stain that was her Sistorian eagle. With a rush of wind they were gone.
Manlia turned to regard Juluc Smilebiter, who stood chewing a shrivelled fruit. The man's eyes had their usual dangerous glint. He had not yet killed anybody this night. "Rest your men for now, Juluc. Have the regiments ready to wake and fight in case the Republicans advance, however unlikely, but let them get some sleep."
"Your Grace."
Then Manlia hunted down the Lady Alexis Kata. She was engaged in debate with her ebony-draped advisers in one of the temples of Orian. "Lady Kata. A moment, if you would?"
She turned on him fiercely, but must have found his expression to be vulnerable and inoffensive, as intended, for she herself softened ever so slightly. "Your Grace." she said, fire at the tip of her tongue. Then, to her advisers. "Leave us."
When they were alone, Manlia took a seat. His body threatened to surrender entirely upon that brief respite. "Gods..." he shut his eyes.
Kata said nothing.
"You fear me?" Manlia asked, opening his eyes.
Kata's ran a thumb over forefinger, brooding. "You're dangerous. But you don't intimidate the Great Names, Manlia. Not the real ones."
"Black Sun." Manlia affirmed. "And who am I to challenge her, when Radiance is silent? Who am I to challenge the order of things?"
"Who are you indeed?" she narrowed a single eye, studious, challenging. "You who love to criticize words, and the Curia. Yet you have more of an agenda than any High Palatine who came before you. You don't fool any of us, Manlia Suren Issander."
"Fool you? When did I ever seek to hide my intentions?" Manlia cracked a dry laugh. "Let's be plain with one another, Alexis. Whatever our differences, there must be no higher priority than saving Varantium. None. Whatever you might think of me personally, you cannot truly mean to encourage division between us here and now. We are losing this battle."
Alexis Kata chewed her lip, then caught herself doing it and blanked her expression. "You led us here. If we are losing, the fault is yours."
Manlia grabbed her hand in his own, her palm turned upwards. "Grandmaster Valtorian is dead, the Thunder Inevitable, destroyed. Ten thousand fanatics turning dry earth into mud with their gore. And you would try and avoid what I am telling you by talking about blame? Lead this army if you wish, Alexis! I mean it, if you truly think you can lead us all to victory!"
She said nothing. Manlia took her other hand, but gently. "Alexis. Help me talk reason to Black Sun. She is the patron of House Suren and House Kata both. Yet we cannot pretend her nature is different, and that she cares for our brief lives. Do not walk that path, Alexis. I ask only that we work together. Please... Make whatever demands you wish of me. But help me save this city."
Holding Alexis Kata's hands, Manlia Suren Issander found himself on his knees.
(Sistorian eagles to report to Princess Maurielle and Seda Suren, and use their abilities to help the Suren Magi and Suren infantry to hunt down the stragglers in the hills. Garrison of Orian is to sleep, but with a vigorous watch instituted. Word is to be sent to the R1 Bridge Burners that they are to return to Orian, to start building rafts.)
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Post by conumbra on Jun 7, 2015 21:46:09 GMT
Sitting at the table, she cradled a cracked tankard. The innkeeper had said this was supposed to be the strongest on tap but she barely felt a thing. She remembered a time when such a thing would have burnt her throat, but she barely felt this. One of the downsides of changing, she supposed. The pleasures that once seem so novel are reduced to yet another distraction, removed of their special quality. Still, she was grateful for a period of rest. At least it was something new to look over. This new arrival, this unexpected visit from Tilan, filled her with complicated emotions. She'd been right of course, Father wouldn't make his way down just to see her. On the one hand, this was something diverting her attention from the battle on the one hand, yet on the other this was a matter of family pride, of respect. She couldn't just push this aside like another annoyance. If handled properly, this could even provide a unique opportunity.
She stared into the alcohol's murky depths. "So this is your play then?"
Tilan didn't have a drink with him. All he brought with him were his clothes and his presence. Looking from one to the other one could easily see the resemblance. The same dirty blond hair, the same narrow nose, the same pointed chin. But his lips were fuller as was his belly. Though no matter how much he tried, he'd never grow a mustache. His clothes were refined, red silks and blue satins, with emeralds and sapphires glittering on the buttons and cuffs of his jacket. His clothing could feed a regiment if sold for food. Already it was wearing the mark of the road, dust clinging to the smooth fabric, darkening the sheen of the gems.
His lips formed a line. "Yes. If we curry favour with Dawn Lantern, we'd gain a significant military advantage. Those, Inquisitors, been proving a bit of a problem, right? That's only because our magi are hampered with that inkspill sitting where she is. Dawn Lantern sitting back in Falor helps no one, 'least of all the Last Argument, and he'll stay there as long as she does. If we help do this, not only can we increase our standing in his eyes, but potentially increase our own might, enough to win this battle. Then the war will swiftly follow."
"This is a delicate matter. One wrong statement, one missed cue, and we risk tearing the Dominion asunder. Black Sun standing still helps no one. Black Sun and Dawn Lantern engaging in open war hurts everyone except our enemy." Her finger tapped at the side of the tankard.
He leaned back in his chair. "I know of no one else in our family who could do this. I ask, not just as the patriarch of the Jahimis line, but as your father. The risks are great, certainly. But we stand much to gain; I didn't think you were capable enough to succeed, I wouldn't be here."
A sigh, then a long look into the dark liquid. A glance, her eyes meeting his. "Very well. I'll do this. But the troops here need to rest. I can't just march them up to Falor now, most would drop dead. It wouldn't be appropriate to show our strength with men who can barely stand. I'll let the men rest for a few hours, then I'll take some of my regiments and display this show of force Dawn Lantern wants." She stood up from her table, as did her Father.
There was a great silence between them, something that engulfed them both and rooted them to the spot they were standing on. Then as if a match were snapped, she rushed forward, all pretense removed, and held him. He didn't say a word, just accepted it. Then the moment passed and the two went their separate ways.
"I'm going out to inspect the troops. Stay here for as long as you wish but please don't go to the front lines. Those heathens itch to see you fall." Then she left the inn and walked into the cold dark night.
Two birds came to meet her, both carrying messages, a great eagle and a gull. The eagle brought with it her orders, to root out the stragglers in the hills. Difficult, with her troops tired. But the Republic's men would be in worse shape than this. Plus, it would give her own men time to rest before the march to Falor. She'd take some Suren magi and the Suren guards. It still made her concerned that she was sending the High Palatine's sister into battle, but she had demonstrated herself excellently in the conflict so far. A few stragglers might prove annoying but not so much a physical threat.
She'd make her way to the troops in a bit. First though, was a meeting she'd been dreading. She hadn't spoken with Stormlight for years, not since the incident in the Valari woods. She'd avoided him at every opportunity, afraid of confronting him and admitting the truth. Still, the meeting could no longer be drawn out. Stormlight was patient but he would swiftly grow intractable if she avoided such a clear invitation.
She made her way to the palanquin outside. She waved for the guards t set it down and give them some privacy. They hesitated but a voice sounding like far-off thunder told them "Do as she wishes. This is not for your ears."
The palanquin was made of rich, dark wood, harvested not from Jahimis lands but from far away. Sweet smelling yet lacking in any oils, this wood was said to resist fire unlike any material created by man. An important point when dealing with a being such as Stormlight. Aside from the wood, the family crest was carved into the roof and doors, dyed with the shells of Plutarin snails. It did not look ostentatious, but if one looked closely the wealth required to make such a simple thing was plain to see.
She opened the doors and slid inside. The palanquin was just large enough to seat two sitting across from one another. Maurielle sat on one of the pillow-covered wooden couches within. Across from here was her family's patron spirit.
Stormlight was a roiling mass of cloud, dark and full of lightning. The bolts traveled over his skin constantly, tracing ancient runes over his mass. He had no defined shape, he simply filled up the other half of the palanquin with a great mass of thundercloud. The only indication he saw were were his two eyes, bright blazing circles that shown through the cloud. Those bulbs of lightning regarded her calmly for a moment. Then a deep rumbling came from within that her mind interpreted as speech. Every syllable rattled the palanquin, like a beast shaking the flimsy bars of its cage. "My sweet daughter, what has happened to you?"
Her eyes couldn't meet his. "I...am sorry for not speaking with you, all these years. I was ashamed, afraid of losing who I was, what I had. Do you remember the Valari woods trip?"
"I do, that was right before this all started, yes? Several years ago now...you were sent to pacify some group of peasants who were making complaints about taxes, right?"
"Yes, I was."
"Yet after a week or so, you come back to us, bloody and broken. You ask for the family army to come, wipe the village clean. And you refuse to speak with me, run from my sight. So I ask again. What happened to you?"
"I...it was a trap. My guards were ambushed on the way to their village, and utterly wiped out. I was...taken. I was held up in a basement for days. The people there, they...practiced on me."
The stormcloud's eyes widened. She could feel his gaze peering into her, seeing her in the spiritual and physical realms both. Here came the worrying part, the part she'd been dreading ever since coming back to her old life. At once a great thunderclap sounded through his form. "You're...human. Just flesh. There's no remnant of my Spark in you, just a...residue filling the hole. I cannot replace this; it's as if there was never room for a Spark to begin with. What is this, why are you damaged so? Tell me, please."
"They...used strange magics on me. They ripped the Spark from my being, tore my soul to shreds as they did so. Afterwards I couldn't think through the searing pain for so long, it hurt like nothing I can describe. It was if my soul was burning, but that is a poor excuse for what it felt like. I'm lucky I survived at all."
"I never heard of such a thing," Stormlight said "how did they come across this horrid abomination?"
She made a motion to the door. "I...think it's an extension of the art Inquisitors practice. I had no concept before, but now that I see them I can guess. Their heretical arts seem to be about defying the spirit, rejecting its influence. What better way to defy a spirit than to rip out its touch? Then they salt the fields, leaving no room for anything to grow later. Now you understand why I asked that their village be cleansed. No one can know of this power. If word were to get out, imagine the damage that could be wrought."
"I...see. I suppose your behaviour is understandable, if not excusable in such an instance. Oh child, it is good to hear from you again, and what anger I may have towards you for concealing this pales in comparison to my joy at seeing your face again. But tell me...if you are in fact Sparkless, why should you not be removed from the family?"
She shrugged. "My sister is still a member and she's a doddering simpleton. I have more merit to remain than she. And right now we have a war to fight, yes? I can't provide your show of force if I'm not a part of the family, can I? I can still serve, and will continue to do so until the day of my death."
A pause, subtle rumblings coming from within the cloud. "You are dismissed child. Go and do your duty. And thank you, for telling me this. I shall think it over."
With a relieved sigh, Maurielle exited the palanquin and moved to get the troops she needed. Some scrounging from survivors would take her mind off of the issues. Perhaps once the day was complete there would be time for a more involved talk.
(OOC: Take R3, R21 and R10 to the western hills to hunt for stragglers, with Maurielle leading.)
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Post by Devius on Jun 7, 2015 22:30:58 GMT
We have reached the hills. I am ready to collapse. Still, I must wait for my tent to be assembled, and so I shall see to what matters I can before I retire.
I find Tycorro Tassar and his men. They have already set up a tent for their healing arts. Muffled screams of pain can be heard from inside, but I see broken men carried into the tent walk out on their own, whole again. I see no reason to disturb their concentration.
I move on to the prison camp. I would have put the capable Damesco Truseva in charge of the prisoners, but I was informed of his passing during our march. His death does not hurt me, not like Kanrel, but it is another inconvenience. My sister will be devastated. And so, prisoner duty has fallen to my cousin Dervin instead.
A sudden flash of light and loud noise catches my attention. I hear shouting.
My concern is unfounded as I arrive to the scene to find Dervin scolding some of his men. They had been charged with destroying the guns retrieved from the prisoners, and the fools had decided to throw them all into a pyre. Luckily none had been critically wounded, one man merely lost a finger. Their shame is made tenfold when they see my disappointment, I need not add to Dervin's harsh words.
My tent should be ready by now. I cannot wait to rest.
Halfway there, I am stopped. Attia Handar, one of the Spear's finest. I dismiss her, already aware of the Grandmaster's death. She does not leave. The Grandmaster did not die alone. The Spear is broken, only four remain. Each member of the Spear of Radiance is a legend in their own right, how could so many fall? Old legends, Attia assures me. The Spear was blunt, a memory of its former glory. Only those truly worthy of their order lived. Attia is certain, the Spear will survive this war, and under her command shall it return to its former glory.
We reach my tent. I commend her for her fervor, and finally I can rest. A mixture of emotions wash over me as I lay down. Strangely, my last feeling before falling asleep is one of hope. Perhaps Kanrel did not die in vain.
(Kansar and his units spend the turn resting and healing).
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