Aaron Winsett
Sage
Seeker of Knowledge
Knowledge is a weapon. I intend to be formidably armed.
Posts: 419
Sacae Fame: 1
Lycia Fame: 2
Profession: Student of Magic
OoC Alias: Feldsky
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Post by Aaron Winsett on Jul 20, 2014 21:00:11 GMT -6
Right as the green-haired sage was expecting to ride forward, a shadow from above caught his attention, and he whipped his eye and hand skyward. There was already an ice shield forming above him on instinct, when one of the heavy shot launched by the siege engines. Ice shattered everywhere, and force from more than the breaking of ice exploded over him. He felt himself launched off Ciel, and away from Claire and Valcrist. Where he landed and which direction he flew was beyond his ability to figure, but he collected himself quickly and pushed himself back up.
"Valcrist!... Claire!" He looked around, but couldn't see signs of them in his immediate vicinity. Dust was still clearing from the near miss, and his attention was quickly drawn back to the battle going on around him. He could feel the presence of a lightmage on the field. That magic had been filtering over the area for the last little bit, and it was proving disastrous to their own forces. Around himself, he could feel the chill of frost spirits gathering, alongside the heat from the fire elements. Now a third reached out over the battlefield, and was washing in under the effects of the light spells. Dark Magic. He couldn't tell yet what that would mean.
The sound of a yelling as he charged towards him ripped the Sage's attention back to his immediate area. There was a man, someone who obviously had lived by his weapons from the rough appearance, charging at him with a pair of axes. Aaron went to reach for his spell, but found himself almost falling backwards over himself as an axe blade whooshed over where his head had been moments before. Piece by piece he was putting a spell together, but each spell fragment he organized in his head came between another stroke of axe swings. One step finally came where his foot caught on a corpse already knocked down. He gave the axeman a kick in the stomach as the man charged. The resulting grunt and stumble back bought the sage the last second he needed to finish his craft.
With icy precision, Aaron loosed his spell on the man's axes, and encased both of the heads in one block, causing him to drop them. Shifting one hand to the ground, frost shot along the earth before an ice spike nearly four inches around shot up and through the man's chest. His screaming was cut off by the sage's subsequent spikes shooting through the man. Aaron stood back to his feet and started heading back towards the line, one hand covered in radiant flame, the other giving off misty frost as he came. Ahead of him, he could see the fighting thickening. An order was being passed though. "Fall back to the walls. Form up at the walls."
They were falling back. They were losing ground, and Aaron couldn't do anything to stop it. Maybe the order was the right move. They were slowly being chewed on and spit back out up here. He wasn't a commander or a student of tactics in truth. He was a student of the natural world though, and with that he could make a difference wherever he was.
He saw a group of enemy forces pushing in hard, trying to overwhelm what was left of a small group of defenders, and ran to assist. With a wave of his hand, he sent his fire into the weapons that the attackers carried, and then ignited them all at once. The result was the sound of metal suddenly becoming searing hot and clattering to the ground amidst the brigands' cursing.
"Break! Break away now, and fall back to the walls." Aaron shouted as fast and as clearly as he could, slapping his two hands together and concentrating for a moment as he worked his spells in tandem. Fimbulvetr and Volcanon. Most people would think that they were two completely incompatible magics. Most people hadn't put as much thought into these things as a schooled sage had though. Just like prepping water for tea, adding heat to the water he could gather with the cold air created steam, and that was just what he was doing. With some bizarre sounding amalgamation of the right castings of each, he was pouring steam forth out of his hands, and the area in front of him was fast billowing out into a heavy cloud of fog.
"Come on! I have these, now head back to the walls!" Aaron continued pouring on the fog cloud until he saw his people breaking away and running back to the walls, then his casting shifted tones. More and more fire began to gather, though only a magic user would be attuned to it. He filled the steam cloud with fire spirits, and then detonated. The force and heat released from the blast was intense, releasing a gout of flame probably thirty feet high, and he was sure that there was more than a small bit of soot covering his face now. Most of the fog was clearing too, burned away by his blast. There wasn't a whole lot of whatever had been in that cloud left though. That was enough for him. He turned tail and followed the others back towards the wall, looking for what had changed back there.
Looked like there was a pink haired man moving through the battlefield near the walls. Someone who moved with an assurance borne of a great deal of experience, but there was something more to it than that. He was accompanied by a smaller man with purplish hair. That was the dark mage that he'd felt enter the fray. These were the ones that would turn the battle, if it could still be turned. It looked like they were still planning, so he stayed out of their way for now. Keeping just close enough to hear the plan and do what he could to aid it. He was sure that he was positively radiating fire and ice by now. If they needed his help, they'd let him know, he was sure.
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Post by Willow on Jul 21, 2014 16:24:01 GMT -6
"Dark magic, Oya! It's some sort of vile vapor... Luna, I believe. I studied it in the military. Tell everyone to steer clear. I'll try and do something with it."
The Valkyrie lowered her head, murmuring a prayer, before standing upright in the saddle, raising her eyes and arms, forming a cross with her body. Her arms began to glow and shake as she summoned a huge torrent of energy, drawing from within herself -- her beliefs, her convictions, her fears, everything. Slamming her arms forward, she sent a 'shock wave' of Luce outward, the strength of her emotion and commitment driving the waves of fear once more into the retreating enemies, causing their flight to become more hasty and terrorizing them as they fled. As the waves advanced, they brushed the Luna with them, sacrificing some of Willow's magic to neutralize the darkness. It didn't clear all of it up, but it did significantly improve the smog situation.
The Valkyrie felt something disturbing... Fire. Lots of it. Looking around, Willow located the source - what appeared to be a skilled mage had sent a fire blast straight into some of their men, taking out more of the vile mist with it. He was no doubt a force to be reckoned with... But he was retreating as well.
"Oya! There! That man... He's a powerful mage. We must lure him, and the other leaders, out one by one and eliminate them. There's no reason they'd retreat except to form a stronger defense, so if we rush forward, we may be setting ourselves up for a vicious situation. I'd rather not sacrifice troops on a whim. Let's bring some archers up and use our catapults to wreck them while they're clumped! I can keep them frozen with fear... And our men can destroy any charges they would send. If that mage ventures out to challenge us, we can surround him and swarm him. Oya, use fire jars on them! Let's hit them with our range while they're all bunched up, and once they're in a disorganized and chaotic mess, we can strike!"
Staring out across the field, the Valkyrie watched the mage as he moved back. There he was, standing near a man with pink hair and a little one in a cloak. So they were the leaders of this sector, huh? Together they were strong... But also vulnerable. If Oya and his men could strike them while they massed, the damage would be devastating.
"The Light will prevail." Willow whispered softly. "St. Elimine... Bless our men. Grace us with your presence... Destroy these who oppose us."
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Post by Richter Abend on Jul 22, 2014 22:07:22 GMT -6
Richter looked out over the battlefield, his arms folded across his chest with his axe propped up under the palm of his right hand. He stood unflinching as another wave of light magic washed over the last of his troops to retreat. Now that his adopted forces were facing him, the Ilian could see the terror that the magic inscribed upon their faces. He was convinced of the magic’s power, and its presence as a potential tactical hazard, but he remained uncaring all the same. At the moment, the fear just made them retreat faster, so as long as they could shake off the fright that the light mage instilled in them before the next round of fighting began, there would be little issue.
At the same time, the commander noticed his own tactician’s magic seep into the cracks and crevasses of some of the advancing army, and was emboldened by the sight of the front most bandits, once charging invaders, reduced to slow moving, sickened dogs. If only Mavick had possessed such magic back in Sacae, his whole poisoning gambit would have been much, much easier.
“Probably not far enough,” replied Richter as he eyed the siege engines in question. The Ilian looked up and down the defensive lines. There were archers among his men, but from the looks of the distance, none of them would be able to reach the catapults any sort of missile fire, especially not if the arrows were weighed down with the flaming tar he’d need to set the weapons alight. With that option off the table, destroying the long range weapons would require a more upfront, tactical assault, but to do that they’d have to deal with the advancing forces first.
While his own forces continued to pull back, the Ilian could see the bulk of the bandit forces fall in behind the miasma sickened forward lines. They pushed through to the front like a pack of wild dogs ravenous for their next meal, and at their head Richter could see a small, orange haired man wielding a massive club clearly too big for his size. Judging by the way the rest of the men grouped around him, he looked to be in charge in some capacity, which made him a primary target alongside the light mage.
“Form up!” barked Richter, throwing an authoritative hand into the air. “Prepare to meet the enemy!” He pointed up and down the coagulating defensive lines, pacing back and forth as he attempted to direct the men as best he could given the impromptu nature of his command. “Alternating groups! Columns and wedges, and I want two skirmishing groups roaming in the back ready to patch up any holes!” The defenders hastily began to organize as directed, but Richter couldn't help but sigh at their slipshod, disorganized attempt. There was little to no chain of command, and these volunteer soldiers had no experience fighting alongside each other. Richter made a mental note to institute some kind chain of command if they managed to break the siege, but for now he’d just have to focus on winning the battle.
“We can’t just defend the wall forever,” Richter said, now turning to his purple haired tactician. “We need to find a way to break the siege. Our primary goal should be to destroy the catapults, but there’s no way I’m getting a squad through the bandit forces if we can’t find a way to rout them.” The Ilian shook his head. “You're the tactician. Any ideas?”
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Dietrich Landrik
Mercenary
GAZE AT MEIN ROLLED SLEEVES, NOOBKOPF
Posts: 81
Sacae Fame: -1
Western Isles Fame: 1
Profession: Mercenary Marine
Affinity: Thunder
Profile: Profile - Journal
OoC Alias: Synkkis
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Post by Dietrich Landrik on Jul 23, 2014 1:38:04 GMT -6
After a bit of grumbling, a few of the men that were designated with guarding the catapults saw what the three men were doing and joined them in their efforts so it looked a little less pathetic with a bunch of guys standing around while one guy was going to town with a shovel in a ditch. This helped progress the digging, but the scarcity in wood was largely apparent. Frustrated, Landrik dropped his shovel and stood on top of the parapet to get the digger's attention. "OK, OK... There just isn't enough lumber to place spikes in front of the defenses. What I want are spikes at the bottom of the completed ditches. Good job getting the spikes shaped up, but we just need more wood."
Looking ahead for resources, he saw the defenders were managing some loose formation commanded by a man who stuck out of the crowd like none other. The pink hair signaled who it was taking the field - it was Richter Abend. He very well knew about the battle in Sacae against the Prophet's forces, but much else he hadn't heard of the man for. Just knowing he was on the other side of the battlefield against the man who toppled an Etrurian army really put some fire under his arse.
"The enemy are making a counter-attack! Let's hurry the hell up! You can rest when you're dead!" Landrik shouted, running back into the ditch and grabbing his spade. Men were jumping about, digging the small holes for the sharpened sticks and the proper large stakes were leaned across the gabeons pointed towards the enemy as there was no time to bury them in the side of the ditch. Men started abandoning the work to grab their weapons and gear, as the more "sergeant" types rounded the men up to get ready for any sort of orders. Quite a bit were still in the ditches, burying the sticks into the ground - a nasty surprise for anyone who tried to cross. Looking around, he noticed that the catapults were guarded to the front against any sort of attack, but the sides and rear were wide open. That's where the fight was bound to happen. The blonde swordsman didn't have any say in the strategy in how the defense would be pulled together, but if he were to keep from using the sword then he'd have to use the shovel.
Looking up, the sight of Fuchs sprinting carrying huge amounts of wood in his arms made him chuckle as the image was burned in his head as he rapidly went to work finishing the barebones defenses. God-willing, the enemy would never get close.
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Post by Oya on Jul 24, 2014 14:09:39 GMT -6
"Hmm", spoke Oya as he meditated on Willow's words. The fair maiden was right. Charging in could prove disastrous if the enemy had a plan. Still he was going to need to pull back on the assault and give word to the reinforcements that charging was not a good idea. "You have a point Willow", spoke Oya as he came to a decision. "It would be foolish for me to sen our troops in when we have artilary to break up their formations." Oya stopped and turned to a pirate bearing the signal horn. "Send the signal to gather", spoke Oya to the pirate. "I don't want my brothers and their men to get caught in the attack."
"Understood", spoke the pirate as he began to blow on the horn. The sound caught the charging forces off guard as they headed toward the enemy force. It seemed to them that Oya had a plan, but to call for them to gather when their objective was clear in sight. What in the world was he thinking. Still better to listen to Oya than to be on the end of one of his plans, thought Oya's brothers Troy and Farkus. The two pirates pulled their troops back and moved to gather up with Oya forces.
"Now that, that is done", spoke Orcleous over the sound of the trumpet. "Tink", he spoke as he walked up to a slender man. "Run this message back to the catapults. Tell them to aim their heavy shots toward the massing enemy force and move the archers up half way across the field. Then tell them to fire upon the enemy."
"Understood", spoke Tink. "However do you want the catapults to wait for the archers then fire, or fire as soon as possible."
"Fire soon as possible", spoke Oya.
"Understood", spoke Tink as he was off. It did not take long for Tink to reach the catapults as he was the fastest runner in the crew and delivering messages was his thing. Tink rushed up to the commander and gave him Oya's message. The commander looked at the field and began to bark out orders. Tink and the archers moved out into position to fire upon the enemies as the catapults adjusted their trajectory to hitting the enemy forces. "Loose", shouted the commander as the catapults fired heavy shots straight into the enemy forces. As the catapults fired the archers moved into place. They pulled back on their bows and fired into the enemy.
As the artillery units moved, prepared, and did their jobs Oya began to organize his men and prepare them for their next assault. By the time the catapults fired his brothers had already reached their location and Oya was beginning to make plans.
"Alright Troy forces will rush the left flank and Farkus you can take the right", spoke Oya. "Me and Willow will move the light infantry down the middle and let the heavy units stay toward our flanks. We will send the rams behind you guys. Though we already punctured one hole in the wall the more the merrier", spoke Oya as the pirates began to move into position. Oya watched as his artillery assault did its work on the enemy and began to move out..
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Mavick
Seer
Little Strategist
"The Darkness... It consumes me."
Posts: 208
Etruria Fame: -2
Sacae Fame: 1
Affinity: Dark
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Post by Mavick on Jul 26, 2014 18:15:59 GMT -6
Mavick bit his lip as his eyes moved over the battle field, his mind racing. "What we need is a distraction. Some grand display of force to draw their attention, allowing a small covert group to sneak around and destroy the artillery squads." He tapped his thumb to his chin, the gears in his head turning as he formulated his plans.
"Oh, look they're aiming at us." The little tactician watched with disturbing calm as a fire barrel flew far over his head. "Fortunately, Commander, the issue with catapults is that they are incredibly difficult to aim. It's all a matter of trial and error. However, we should probably move that way, in case the next shot is spot on." With that, he started to advance to the other side of the wall. "Now... what am I going to do.." he muttered. He needed something that could attract attention. Something big. Something flashy. Preferably something stupid, insane, or both.
He glanced down, spying the Anima mage he had witnessed on the field. That would work. "You down there." he called, gesturing for the man to get up on the wall. "Come up here, and tell us your name!" He then looked at Richter. "An Anima mage can certainly help provide the grand distraction you need. However, one Anima mage and a detachment of soldiers will not be enough to draw all their ire. We need something more..."
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Wyatt
Hero
The Volcano
How can someone win if winning means that someone loses?
Posts: 463
Etruria Fame: 2
Sacae Fame: -1
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Post by Wyatt on Jul 26, 2014 20:35:23 GMT -6
When Mana heard about the attack here, no force on Elibe would have stopped her. Wyatt felt no real love for the legendary city, but he'd seen enough people lose everything thanks to Etruria's war mongering. He'd consider the black eye that he would give them here the start of the payback they deserved for what they did to his home land.
They'd arrived earlier, but Wyatt had been moving around the interior of the city, helping to move supplies around and keep the general populace out of the line of fire. With the siege weapons, however, it became far more difficult to ensure that the city would ever be safe. They needed to be destroyed, and the attacks seemed to be coming from the east side. That was where he went, and the chaos there seemed greater than on any other front.
He'd considered wearing his armor, but the added weight on his bad leg was becoming too much to deal with. Instead, he'd discarded it for some of the Sacaen garb Mana's people wore. They'd been more than happy to fit him with it. Now if only he could get used to fighting in it. A war didn't seem like the best time to learn, but he didn't really have a choice. With axe and shield, he walked to the wall, watching as the army began to fall back and form up. A familiar form appeared in his vision, and an even more familiar voice. The Winter Lion himself, go figure.
Wyatt heard the tail end of his conversation with the short mage, listening to their plans. A distraction, eh?
"You need a distraction to slip out of a heavily fortified encampment without being noticed? Boy, this feels familiar," he said with a dumb grin, nodding to Richter. "Good to see you're still alive and a thorn in the Prophet's side. If it is something big and flashy you need, I can do that," he said, hefting the stone axe onto his shoulder. The fissures of magma running through it pulsed and glowed, as if restless for combat. "What do you say? One more rain of fire and ash for old times sake?"
As sick as it was to say, being in battle for the first time in a while was a good feeling. Wyatt wasn't a warrior by trade like so many others, but it certainly made him feel alive to be out there. Right now there were two kinds of people here.
Those that needed to be protected.
And those that needed to be culled.
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Post by Richter Abend on Jul 27, 2014 1:03:08 GMT -6
Richter followed Mavick down the wall, looking on as the little shaman ordered the green-haired mage to come up and speak with them. The Ilian didn’t know his name, but he had seen what the man was capable of only moments earlier, and knew Mavick was making the right choice in recruiting him. Showmanship was what they needed right now, and between the steam clouds and the explosions, he seemed to have a flair for it. Hopefully the mage would oblige their request, because the job they were going to be asking him to do wasn’t safe by any means. He’d need to be willing to put himself right there in the front lines if he was going to make a suitable distraction.
"You need a distraction to slip out of a heavily fortified encampment without being noticed? Boy, this feels familiar.”
A familiar voice came from the commander’s right as Mavick finished speaking. The pink haired warrior turned his head to see none other than Wyatt approaching to meet them, offering up his services to help with their big distraction. Small world. Richter himself had come here with Elias, so had Wyatt shown up with Mana? The Sacaen girl had said back west that she had left the red-headed youth safe with another tribe, what with his injuries, but Richter figured that if he had made his way all the way here, she would have had something to do with it.
Still, injuries or no, the Ilian had seen what the fighter’s axe was capable of back during their flashy breakout from the Etrurian military prison, so he was not left doubting when Wyatt claimed that he was capable of providing them what they needed. If he was going to offer his help, then Richter wasn’t going to second guess it. They needed all the help they could get, and with the mage’s help, they would definitely be able to cook up an explosion or two large enough to get bandit eyes away from the catapults long enough for the defenders to take them out.
“Well I don’t know about going unnoticed,” replied Richter, citing his not so stealthy escape from under the Herald’s nose, “but hopefully, with your help, I can be more than just a thorn in Hargus’s side. Maybe a sword, or more accurately, an axe.” A wolfish grin etched its way across the pink haired commander’s face as he brandished his frost-touched battleaxe. He wasn’t looking to make this a surgical maneuver. The primary goal was to get rid of those catapults, sure, but he’d be happy to sow as much chaos in the enemy rank and file as he could while he did it. “If you’re up for it, then for old times sake it is then.”
“I assume your injuries have healed up?” he asked, nodding towards Wyatt’s leg. “The last thing I need is you crumpling into a wounded heap out there while you’re supposed to be blowing up marauders.”
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Post by Willow on Jul 28, 2014 10:36:15 GMT -6
"All right. You! Send word back that the archers are to double their rate of fire. I want fire barrels shot into the forces along with heavy shot. We need to weaken them before we move forward further. Once they've been heavily weakened, we can encapsulate and finish off pockets of defenders.
Oya, I advise leaving at least some soldiers to hold our line, that way if we need to move back to our old positions, we can. Remember, we have the advantage... If need be, we can always hold back, batter the walls with our siege engines, and starve those savages out. There's no sense in wasting our force; however, I do agree that we should get another attack in."
As the pirates moved into position, Willow unleashed a strong blast of Luce, swirling her hands like a conductor and then sending the fear-instilling waves splashing into the enemy lines. Gritting her teeth, she maintained the magic until it had fully gone through the main contingent of soldiers. That pesky anima mage was out of her range; she didn't want to overextend herself and get too tired. No sense in that.
The next priority, besides slamming forward and annihilating the defenders, was to make sure that their siege engines were protected. The siege hooks weren't even unloaded, that would be fine. But their catapults. They had to make sure they were well fortified.
"You. Send a message back to Dietrich Landrik. I don't care if you don't know who he is. Ask around. I want him to fortify all catapult positions with traps and men from all sides save the rear. Place some archers and men around each engine. If our charge allows an enemy contingent to break through, they will no doubt come for these engines. Inform the reserve lines that if any enemies break through, they are to rush forward and swarm them immediately."
Dismissing the messenger, Willow turned her attention to the battle in front. She'd provide sniping kills with her Light, and demoralization with her Luce. The general troops would handle the rest of the killing, and then she could heal others, of course.
"Oya. I like your flank attack proposal. Make sure that we seal any chinks. We're going to encircle the enemy completely, allowing us to then grind them up. My magic also will be more potent in an enclosed space, so I can terrify them even more. Good thoughts, Commander Oya."
Giving her husband a quick embrace and a kiss, the Valkyrie remounted her horse and prepared herself for their attack. This would be brutal.
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Post by Oya on Jul 30, 2014 14:36:12 GMT -6
"Send more forces to strengthen the guard on the catapults", spoke Oya to Willow in a confused tone. "I don't know. I did leave the entirety of our main heavy infantry to guard it. I think it has enough guards for the moment. However if you think that it needs more then I will fall back to your wisdom", spoke Oya. This was Oya's first true battle. Before hand he had commanded skirmishes and small raids, but never large scale war like this. Willow however seemed to have more of a commanding edge than he did and Oya would rather fall back onto her wisdom than mess up and cause their army to loss some of their most important pieces of military advantage.
Oya looked into the sky and noticed that it was starting to get dark. As much as Oya loved the idea of fighting at night, it was not plausible. His men would not be able to see nor would they be able to operate under those conditions. still, the idea of a night assault seemed very advantages to the young pirate. Still his mind needed to be focused on the task at hand. "Troy take the right flank and Farkus take the left. Me and my men will come down the middle." spoke the pirate to his brothers.
"Hold on a second, who died and made you king", asked Farkus breaking the unity of their forces.
"You if you don't shut up and follow orders", spoke Troy which caught the pirate off guard. He had expected Oya to be the one to retaliate not their other brother. "We are acting like a army now. We don't need your petty pride getting in the way of the battle. That is how you get us all killed", spoke Troy.
Farkus bit his lips and held his peace. He knew Troy was right and instead moved to his position.
"Remember we attack right after the catapult assault", spoke Oya. as his brothers walked away.
"Loose", spoke the archers as they let a volley of arrows rain down upon the defenders. Oya prepared his men for their upcoming assult. This attack was going to be brutal. If they won they gained access to the city and they could push the sacean out and take the day. If they lost then they would be decimated and would have to flee back to their ships and prey the Saceans did not have enough forces left to counter attack. This charge would be paramount in deciding if weather or not they took the city of heroes quickly or if they would fall back into a long drawn out siege. For Oya he preferred the first option. He wanted to end the siege quickly and uses the new wave of fear to gain resources quickly and replace the ships his mother loss on the way to the battle. But if they have to draw out the fight they can still gain resources from the city of heroes itself. Though Oya doubted their share of the gold would be enough to cover their losses. Thought that was Oya's personal opinion on the matter.
"Can you taste it", shouted Oya as he stepped in front of his men. "I am not talking about the dust in the air or the soot on the tip of your tong. I speak of the glory of battle and the prize standing behind those great walls. Behind those walls there is wine, women, and plunder. All you men have to do is destroy this force standing before us and charge in and take it", shouted Oya. The pirates responded with a uniform chant of yeah and a roar of blood-lusting screams.
The sound of catapults launching filled the air. Both oil jars and heavy shots sailed through the wind and fell down upon the enemy soldiers. Oya watched as a vulture as the chaos wrapped their ranks from the artillery attack. The moment they broke formation to flee the flame or to avoid the skipping stone Oya attacked.
"Attack", shouted the Orange hair bandit as he drew his magical axe and charged toward the enemy lines. Swiftly the other birgands followed suit and the main force slammed into the enemy lines like a wall. The first man to die was one of Oya's victims. Xigshaw, in all of its radiance, fell down upon his flimsy wooden shield and shattered it like glass. The hordes of bandits rushed in and chaos took the field.
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Dietrich Landrik
Mercenary
GAZE AT MEIN ROLLED SLEEVES, NOOBKOPF
Posts: 81
Sacae Fame: -1
Western Isles Fame: 1
Profession: Mercenary Marine
Affinity: Thunder
Profile: Profile - Journal
OoC Alias: Synkkis
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Post by Dietrich Landrik on Jul 31, 2014 0:19:25 GMT -6
Realizing the trenches were starting to get vacated by the volunteers, Dietrich jumped up out of the ditch like a bat out of hell. He barely knew any of these guys that weren't on his ship when they made the journey over, but he didn't give a care in the world. He knew the upcoming fight would be tough and they may have to cling onto these defenses to survive the coming storm. The confidence he had briefly reminded him of his time back on ship in the Western Isles. Finding the man he could only think of that had any command of the heavy troops sitting around the catapults, he unleashed on the bandit.
"Hey! What in the hell are you doing?" Dietrich sounded off, a little ticked.
"Oya told us to protect the catapults. That's exactly what we're doing." he replied, annoyed.
"Aw hell naw, ye ain't. These here well-crafted machines of war are doin' work and you have yer company of iron slabs sittin' around. We're about to be in a world of pain if we don't get these ditches dug and trapped." the Fibernian yelled, trying to get the man to snap to and realize his folly.
This only exasperated the situation even further when the man pushed Dietrich back and drew his axe. "Oi! Ye don't order me around, whelp. We ain't gettin' outta breath for ye to be makin' sand castles." he growled back, pointing his axe at the blonde-haired marine.
Taking a deep breath, Landrik took a gamble with revealing that Richter Abend was on the other side of the battlefield... something that could easily drive away lesser men. Yet these wanted to charge into the town and start raiding right away. It'd probably work out for the best given their drive. "My name is Dietrich Landrik and Oya and Willow specifically tasked me with defending the catapults as well. So we're in the same company, ya clod. You know who's coming for us? The Winter Lion and his pride of Prophet hunters. If you don't want to be pushed back into the sea with a sword through your back, you'll get your men to start digging and putting stakes in the ground. We've got to kill him if any of y'all want to get the spoils you've been promised. Would you rather Hargus execute you for cowardice and inadequacy because you couldn't defend our only tools to break in? You've got a lot more riding on this than you imagine." Landrik delivered the warning to the commander with piercing eyes.
The marine knew exactly how to talk sense into people when it counted, and while the commander dismissed him, he immediately rallied his men to get to work. In the background still at work, Berg and Fuchs could only smile.
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Taking his mind off the confrontation he was ready to draw his sword to, he realized those shooting the catapults were getting mixed orders between solid shot and firebombs. This lessened the rate of fire as they tried to discuss which to use with the men who brought the orders. Landrik had no say in this discussion and he most certainly had work to do. He also noticed ahead that the group of archers ahead of the fortifications were also arguing due to the conflicting orders. The whole battlefield would get lost in translation if the forward commanders couldn't give out more precise orders. The few archers that got to the defenses seemed the shirker type, especially since they found a legitimate excuse to not be anywhere near the front. Dietrich doubted their will to fight if things got serious and close.
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Post by Valcrist on Jul 31, 2014 12:07:22 GMT -6
The battlefield was awash with chaos. Light and darkness vying for control, toxic air and morale shattering glow, it was magic everywhere. He wasn't sure what was going on really, he knew little of magic outside of enchanting. Sometimes he wondered what it would be like if he picked up a tome instead of a sword, he probably could of even gotten training in it if he desired it. His aunt was a Sage, she scribed tomes and enchanted weapons, but it seems a bit silly to wonder this now of all times. It was just he felt at a lost, bemused at the turn the battle was taking. He knew metal, he knew the symphony of steel, but he didn't know this.
He looked about the field, trying to catch sight of Aaron. Something had happened, an explosion of ice, dust flying everywhere, a catapult strike. Valcrist had instinctually jumped away and evaded the mess, but was separated from the two as a result. It seemed even though he wanted to 'protect' him, he mindlessly put his own preservation first. He shouldn't be surprised, but he couldn't help but be a bit disappointed in himself. There was little time to be dwelling on such a thing however, he was a bit further into the fray then comfortable. He would no doubt be preyed upon by bandits looking to capitalize on his distraction if he dallied too long. So he went into motion, pulling back. They needed to make a push for the catapults, but it wasn't something he could accomplish alone. He either needed to find Aaron or return to the fortifications.
Some man was barking orders, he sounded familiar. He looked familiar. Valcrist met the man before, all the way back in Ilia. He was in his army actually, before he deserted. It wasn't exactly a face he was looking forward to seeing, but it did mean that someone with actual experience in leading men was now doing exactly that. Much better than whatever Valcrist had tried to do, and probably more effective than Aaron's attempts as well. Valcrst wasn't much of a leader, he wasn't much of a follower either for that matter, more of a loner then anything. The problem is loners die on a battlefield like this. So he either needed to learn how to follow orders, or how to give them. He tried giving them, now he should try to follow them. So he pulled back, along with many of the other soldiers. A bit away he saw a burst of smokescreen and a following explosion, and he felt relieved. That was probably Aaron, none of the other mages that fought with them seemed to have that sort of power. That meant he was still alive, so he didn't have to fall on his sword in dishonor or anything. Close one.
Was that... Wyatt? It was really weird seeing all these people in this place like this. He hadn't seen Wyatt since the Arena, which was also something that wasn't a pleasant memory. Geez. Did Valcrist EVER leave anything on a good note? He was happy to see Wyatt though, he was sort of... fried the last time he saw him. It was good to know he lived, and it made him feel less guilty seeing as how he left like he did to help Jya. Jya. Well that's one person he didn't have to worry about running into here at least. He couldn't see someone like her participating in something like this.
He wanted to call out to Wyatt but he seemed to be busy talking to Richter, and this was scarcely the time to be catching up. Still he wasn't entirely... sure what he was supposed to be doing. Like Richter said something, he didn't really catch it. Also he wasn't sure if he was included. Or maybe he was. What was he in this little situation anyways? He started off this morning as an archer and now he just sort of standing around doing a lot of nothing. He needed to do something that he could actually... help by doing.
"Excuse me." He spoke up, loudly enough that he could be heard over the sounds of battle. If he could make a difference, it was his duty to at least try to do it. He wasn't sure what the 'protocol' was for something like this. So he just sort of walked right up to Richter. Might as well go to the one telling people what to do to be told what to do, after all. He glanced over at Wyatt for a moment before looking back at the man in charge. It was a bit surreal, here they were in the middle of battlefield and he was acting like a schoolboy with a question. All he needed to do now was raise his hand. "What should I be doing?"
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Aaron Winsett
Sage
Seeker of Knowledge
Knowledge is a weapon. I intend to be formidably armed.
Posts: 419
Sacae Fame: 1
Lycia Fame: 2
Profession: Student of Magic
OoC Alias: Feldsky
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Post by Aaron Winsett on Aug 1, 2014 10:13:33 GMT -6
When the darkmage tried to get his attention, it took a moment for Aaron to realize who he was calling for. Aaron had set about putting out the fires nearest to them with winds kicked up from his icy storms. It was a moment or two after the call that Aaron finally put two and two together and started to approach. He saw that others had already gathered. Two of the figures were familiar.
"Watch out for this one," Aaron said to the others as he put a hand on Wyatt's shoulder. He'd finally made it up to the group. "This one can scrap with the best of them. Whether fighting in the traditional sense, or simply breaking things."
He smiled. It was good to see his friend one more time. Even if now wasn't a good chance to catch up.
"My name is Aaron Winsett. Tell me what you need on the way, because it looks like they're making another push for the wall." The sage looked battered. Bruises, nicks, and gashes covered him. Holes were left in his clothes where he'd had injuries healed. His cloak had long since fell by the wayside. Scorch marks covered his face and blackened his shirt and pauldron. It was clear that throughout the afternoon he'd spent fighting, he'd moved towards the front, and had to fall back several times.
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Wyatt
Hero
The Volcano
How can someone win if winning means that someone loses?
Posts: 463
Etruria Fame: 2
Sacae Fame: -1
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Post by Wyatt on Aug 1, 2014 22:06:31 GMT -6
Wyatt had to chuckle at Richter's question. "I won't be charging into any battles but I'm more then capable to be the unbreaking wall. Anyway, my idea wasn't exactly pushing them back through force of arms. It's a bit more... theatrical.
He gave a nod to Aaron, also noticing Valcrist coming over. "Valcrist is perfect for the insurgent team. He's quick, agile, and blends in pretty easily. If we draw enough attention to the center line, make them blind to all else, a few people might be able to slip around to disable the catapults, if not destroy them outright. I can draw attention, but if the enemy gets wise to what we're attempting to do they won't fall for it."
Wyatt looked out over the battlefield, noting that the enemy forces were pushing again. For now, the defense was holding, but who knew how long that would last? The attacking army had far more supplies than they did, so they needed to act decisively to minimize the advantage. "Still, it would be nice if we had some kind of cover from the arrows. A fog or a strong wind or something to keep them from firing." Wyatt assumed that if they archers could not see what they were shooting at, or were forced to fire into the wind and were likely to miss, they'd halt the attacks to conserve ammo. Even an army of this size couldn't afford to waste resources so brazenly.
Wyatt grinned, raising his shield as he began walking into the rear lines and towards the front. "Get your strikers set up, Richter. I'll make sure they have eyes only for me. Just don't take it personally, OK?" The last bit seemed an odd thing to say, but Wyatt already had a good idea of what he was going to do to distract the enemies. At least one part of it, he was sure, wouldn't sit well with Richter. Oh well, this was war. You did what you had to do.
As the sky began to slowly darken, Wyatt let the power of his axe seep through. It began glowing, slowly at first. As he walked through the lines of his own army, the axe glowed brighter and brighter, until it would look almost like a torch to the opposing forces. He hadn't acted directly yet, but it was quite obvious that he wanted to be seen.
Already he'd heard the telltale ping of stray arrows bouncing off of his shield. They weren't fired at him directly, so he had no difficulty blocking them.
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Post by Richter Abend on Aug 2, 2014 22:37:15 GMT -6
The roars of the resuming battle served as a reminder that the world was not so convenient that it would simply stop to allow the defending leaders to plot out their next plan of attack. No, there were hundreds of vicious, plunder-hungry marauders out there dying to get their fair share of the loot, and their leaders were not about to give up the fight just because Richter had pulled the defending forces back. The bloodshed would only end if they could successfully convince the attackers that their efforts were futile and their invasion was in vain, and that would take an impressive show of force. The pink haired commander could only look on as the bandit army fell upon his men like waves crashing against rock. As opposed to before, there seemed to be actual tactics behind the way the invaders moved, flanking from both the right and the left, but Richter was confident in the battle lines he had arranged. However sloppy, they were proving to have just enough give in them to both soak the attack and keep the bandits away from the wall.
"Then it's settled," replied Richter, his voice more hurried now given the chaos occurring just yards away from him. An arrow whizzed past his head, but he took little notice. He'd grown accustomed to such things in the heat of battle. "Wyatt will be in charge of creating the distraction, and you get to help him do it." The pink haired Ilian pointed an authoritative finger at Aaron, then gestured for him to join the warrior-blacksmith who was already walking towards the front lines. "Make it big, make it loud, and make it flashy. Blow up whoever you have to to keep their attention, and if you can, please keep Wyatt alive." Richter looked Aaron squarely in the eye as he nodded in the affirmative, as if to accept his own commands in the sage's place. Then, before giving the green haired man a chance to respond, the Ilian turned his attention to Mavick.
"I don't have time to assemble a crack team for this job," continued the commander, shaking his head in frustration. Another arrow came zipping towards him, only to embed itself in the wooden palisade. He was hoping that Hargus's forces would have given him a little breathing room, but they seemed to have no sense of tempo, and were going all in on this first engagement. Not the best long-term strategy, but if they did manage to wear down the defenders and break through the wall now, the siege would be over fast, which of course was what they wanted. Richter had to stop that from happening. "I'm going to leading the strike team myself. I'll grab a dozen or two men to come with me, and I'll trust you to handle things from up here." He pointed up and down the nearby wall, motioning at the archers they had in position, the thrust a hand in the direction of the bandit archers at the back of the enemy lines. "For starters, send some arrows back their way as a thank you for all the ones they're giving us."
The pink haired Ilian then turned from his tactician before spotting the next man he was looking for. Barely pausing his stride, he shot another commanding finger at Valcrist, whom Wyatt had suggested moments before. No time to focus on hellos. "Good to see you again, smith. You're going to be my second." What was it with him and smiths? Richter jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the men behind him. "Grab me twelve good men who've shown they have some stones, then get back here pronto. You have sixty seconds." He didn't give the Nabatan a second glance, instead choosing to look at his hand. Extending his fingers, he began to fold them downwards as he counted off his priorities. He had the soldiers, he had the distraction, he had the tactician, and hopefully in a minute he'd have his strike team. If he needed to, he could take a second minute to get the group together, but he'd prefer to get things moving as quickly as possible if he could. Satisfied, Richter looked back out over the battle on the other side of the wall, mentally preparing himself to enter the raging field of death that lay before him.
He'd been through worse.
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