“.. Outnumbering us three to one.” This story derived from the No Apathy Among the People Progression. The men and women in this story are apart of Garth Viduggla’s Army, The Owl’s Talon. The Army is still on the lookout for new recruits! Beware: This is long. Mid March, 306 A.C. Previously, the men and women of the Owl’s Talon found themselves pushed up to the shoreline due to the sheer numbers of Elves, and lack of men themselves. A plan was set as a result of such an outcome- The Synod’s Army was to plow through the Elven City, while the Viduggla Army was meant to head into the Moors with both Kehlen and Typhonus men. What occurred was something they didn’t plan for. “.. A mighty fine shield,” Stated the newly recruited Sergeant Alexander Donsly, “By the Spirit I hope you do me well.” He gazed to the other men in the tent with him, who gave the Sergeant a glance when he spoke of the Spirit- The Army was mainly composed of those of Oldt Fayth and Old gods, after all. They were all busy themselves, sharpening their Skagger axes to a sharpened point, and getting their drinks of mead in. The man of Daendroc stood from the bench he was sat upon once stating so, setting the shield against his backside. He took in a deep breath, releasing it, before exiting the tent. The camp was bustling with life. Men and women were rushing from tent to tent, gathering equipment to fight their oncoming battle with. Each carried a look of weariness and anxiousness on their faces- The army had faced a string of defeats, losing more and more men with each battle against the numerically superior army. The Viduggla Standard was faced with yet another battle in order to properly retreat from the region. The men were ready for it, anticipating yet another match of bloodshed. Near the medical tents, a certain bandaged man could be seen speaking to a short Ithanian mutt of a woman. “.. Can I get more bandages?” Questioned the burnt Private, Zaheer I’l Lasha. The man was already covered in bandages, a quirky request indeed. Raina Viduggla squinted at Zaheer, “Why is it you need so man- Ah, I don’t really have the time for it. Oui, you can. Here.” He turned around, nabbing a few fresh rolls of bandages as she extended them to Zaheer. With a nod, Zaheer took the rolls and returned to his tent, passing by Sylvia Astri along the way. The Velheim woman walked with long strides as she paced towards the current training session, her zweihander strapped to her back. She noticed a certain brown haired velheim within it, Private Frejnir Viduggla. The Viduggla looked to be on edge, practicing and training with precision as he readied for another battle. Sylvia gazed to him, leaning on the fence as Frejnir took a moment for catch his breath. “.. You well, Frejnir?” Questioned the Corporal, in which the Private only gaze a light shrug in response. “I’m.. ‘M fine.” Sylvia offered a light shake of her head, “Don’t give up. We’ll be home soon, just you wait.” With that, the Corporal turned on her heel, and walked off. Frejnir continued on his training, throwing his skagger ae towards the dummy target- Striking it dead on. “.. See that? You owe me five regals, Mateo. Frejnir hit it.” Spoke the Corporal of the Mercenary War Band, Enzo Celso. He looked over to the man with him, Private Mateo Silva. Mateo shook his head, kicking the dirt, “Si, he did. I’ll hand it over once we’re on better lands.” Enzo squinted to Mateo, before moving to lightly whack his arm- “Better not forget.” With a scoff, and soon a light grin, Mateo shrugged. “I have a foggy memory at times, amigo. Let’s just get ready for this battle.” With that, the two men stood from their seat- A simple log. Enzo gazed over towards the quickly set up stables, looking to the horses for a moment. Patting the horse upon the neck was Private Alban Von Forst, and beside him stood Sergeant Lazaruz Lupenzi. “You like the fast beasts, eh?” Spoke the Sergeant, he tilted his head to the Private. “Indeed I do, sir- They are grea-” “Magnificent, I think you mean.” Spoke the newcomer, Private Darcie Miramonte who raised her brows upon approach. “Ah- yes, magnificent.” Darcie nodded, before climbing the horse. “.. This is William.” Inside an armory tent, was Private Benjamin Journey and Sergeant Theodore Artiemus. “Ser Artiemus- Are you planning for the frontlines?” Came from the mouth of Journey, who had been wiping his longsword with a cloth. “.. That I am.” Neither the man seemed to wish to exchange many words- They were preparing themselves mentally for the battle to come. “.. Amigos- Oh.” Garret Ames pokes his head into the tent, frowning lightly upon doing so. “Wrong tent.” And as quickly as he entered, Ames retreated from the tent to amble along his way, taking a swig of the bottle of alcohol in his grasp. “You ever drink before a battle?” Spoke the fiery redhead, Sergeant Shane Marth. He looked over to Inkeri as she questioned her, finishing off the mug of ale he had in his hand. The Sergeant Major, Inkeri Arud, simply reacted with a moment of silence as she gazed to her axes, “.. Not for this one.” She then stuck the two axes to her belt, while the Claith moved for his arming sword to sheath. The two then exchanged a simple nod, before exiting. “.. Wish this place had some Goirten.” The two passed by the familiar faces of two Velheim- Private Avynn Ignace And Corporal Berdalf Ulfmaerr. The two were currently in a light training session, simply working on partying and evading the others blows. Berdalf look sluggish compared to Avynn, who had managed to avoid the entire majority of Berdalf’s attacks, while Berdalf took a couple light blows to his arm. “Ha! Too slow, big fella,” Stated the Private Ignace. The Corporal simply replied with a scoff, taking a drink of mead. “Cut off from all other supporting men- Tha’ Typhonus and Kehlen men should’ve been here!” The General, Garth Viduggla, soon slammed his open palmed hands upon the table, a loud smack resonating from it. “How many men are left-” “Eighteen thousand,” Tactician Ardige Viduggla chimed in, pressing both his hands to the table, “Eighteen. Would’ve been over one hundred thousand, to think.” Ardige soon scoffed at his own words, shaking his head. The Colonel Magnus Viduggla lightly shook his head, a frown on his features. “Elves piled here are headed for the only target they know- Us. We need to retreat.” The Lieutenant Colonel, Valbrand Haagenvig, nodded in agree with Magnus’ words. “We’ve lost just about twelve thousand already, we’re not going to make much of a dent with all we got.” The word from the two officers resulted in a slow nod of Tactician Luther Artiemus, “Very much so. To the coastline, the Black’s and Ravenstad’s ships… Though I don’t doubt Elves have tried to cluster around us.” Ardige pursed his lips together, nodding. “We know what that means for us, then.” “We send tha’ men out.” The eighteen or so thousand men of the Viduggla Standard moved out soon after that, making way for the coastline. Upon their travels there, as expected, reports were heard of Elven resistance in the near distance. The men and women in battlefield commandment roles soon gathered their men in readied formations. The Regalian Citizens who had a leading role- Cpl. Sylvia Astri, Cpl. Enzo Celso, Cpl. Berdalf Ulfmaerr, Sgt. Shane Marth, Sgt. Alexander Donsly, Sgt. Theodore Artiemus, Sgm. Inkeri Arud, Lt Col. Valbrand Haagenvig, and Col. Magnus Viduggla all look ahead of their men, turning to face them. Corporal Sylvia Astri raised left arm, her hand balled into a fist as her voice rang out for all her men to hear, "You are the warriors of the Owl's Talon. You are fighting for not only Regalia, but also for your family. Today we fight the elves. Tear them all down. Never give in. Fight till your end and then some." Corporal Enzo Celso turned to his men, unsheathing his blade as he looked to the men beside him. “.. Drinks on you if we survive this, yeah? Yeah. Thanks. Now, a moment of silence as we pray for the Gods.” Corporal Berdalf Ulfmaerr reached for the zweihander. He then grabbed the blade with his opposite hand, raising it high- “For the North!” Sergeant Shane Marth gazed upon the men in his ranks, his hand upon the hilt of his arming sword securely in its sheath. "Men. We've all things t' fight for. People t’ fight for. Some o' you may've never fought. Tha's alrigh'. But know this. I don't want you t' fight because I'm tellin' you t'. Fight so tha' your friends 'n family never have t' see the horrors we will face on tha' field. Fight for your mothers, your siblings, your lasses at home, children, wives. Fight /for/ your homes. However far they may be. Where ever they may be. May wha'ver god you have faith in guide our blades 'n toughen our shields. Forwards!" Sergeant Alexander Donsly, having rallied all of his men, raised his shield arm high into the air to holler to his men, "Alright men, listen up, I know we have come far, and I know we've been through the void and back, abandoned when we needed help the most, however we cannot afford to fall here, if we do everything we have fought for was pointless, all those who fell were in vain, so get out there and show those Elves the same mercy they've shown us, that is to say.. Show. No. Mercy." Sergeant Theodore Artiemus, Paladin of the Viridians, slid his long sword from its sheath as he looked to the shield on his opposite arm. "There is something I tell my men before a battle." He then turned to those in his command. He'd raise his voice, a commanding speech boomed. "Zu folgen, nicht gesendet werden. To follow, not be sent. I will not ask of you, what I would not do myself." Theodore turned around, eyeing his enemyn "Our foe comes, and I will not order you to rush ahead into battle as I watch. No. I will go and meet this foe of ours. All I ask is--" Theodore paused, looking back to the men, raising his longsword, Bladebreaker, as his voice boomed in a rallying call. "--that you follow me!" Sergeant Major Inkeri Arud looked to her men, “Alright ye’ f***ers, we all know it's better to fall than to live without ‘ope, so I ‘ope yer’ blades are sharpened! It's better to die on yer’ feet than to live on yer’ knees, am I right? I can promise ye’ all that we will make ‘istory today, tomorrow, an’ every single day after that so long as our ‘earts remain pure an’ true, an’ our axes an’ swords continue to strive for truth an’ justice! Let us make our ancestors proud, eh? Let us bring honour to our loved ones! Now, onwards! Onwards wit’ our soon to be blood covered faces!” Lieutenant Colonel Valbrand Haagenvig took both his skagger axes from his belt, giving them a glance before he bellowed, “Today, we will enter war against these knife-eared twigs that plague this land. We shall fight not with skill, but with courage and valor! We will turn this battle into one that will be recorded in his story, as we will raze through these Elves as if these are our lands! Come now, my brothers and sisters, as we raise our weapons and charge into battle! We will fight tooth and nail for this mighty Empire, and yes, some of us will die, but it will not be for nothing. Collectively, we will all stomp on these Elves and bring honor and success to our empire!” Colonel Magnus Viduggla looked over to the vast spread of men before him, hitting the thousands in number. He raised his mace in hand while doing so, many in the group repeating the gestures with his own weapon. He then let out a war cry, the men following the same as he soon turned around and lead the men onwards. “Bloody your blades!” The battle begun. Darcie Miramonte charged forth on her steed, the hooves thudding as they struck coarse dirt. Her gaze was head on with the Elven menace, who in turn were charging towards her. Arrows rained down from above, as the grunts and yells from arrows piercing the Velheim and Elven levies rang out high above the battlefield. Gazing to her left, Darcie saw firsthand an arrow strike the man beside her in the throat, sending him tumbling to the ground. As she looked to her right instinctively, the man beside her took an arrow to the chest, falling off his horse as well. With widened eyes, she looked ahead- Only to see an arrow coming right for her, penetrating the throat of the Horse, William. Both her and the horse were sent tumbling into the mud. Berdalf Ulfmaerr charged in, seemingly with the pure intent on offensive maneuvers. Slashing through the elves with his yells booming out, he took a strike from a Elven lance to his back- resulting a grunt as his armor protected, though a bruise was soon to form. As Berdalf kept pushing through the fight, he took more slashes to his lower right thigh, witnessing just over half his men die in the progress. Enzo Celso lead his men into the fray, with his arming sword in hand. With his face painted with determination, he began his offense on the elves. However, as he fought, the Mercenary paid little attention to his men. After he swiped his blade for the throat of an Elven levy, a blow from a mace struck his side- Though, it left a minimal bruise. Enzo was quickly drenched in the blood of the Elves, his sword cutting through them like cheese. Mateo Silva, a member of the Warband, immediately felt the breath of war as he charged in. An arrow flew through the air, lightly slicing his right cheek as he ran for the opposing enemy. He seemed slightly sluggish in his blade’s movements, not getting through many elves before taking a lance to the shoulder. With a grunt and a string of curses in his mother tongue, the Mercenary kept fighting, taking a bow to the side from a mace they left him out of breath, stumbling to the ground as he became trampled on for a short time. Garret Ames ran in with the two others, along with a string of Haagenvig levymen. From the start of the fight, Ames was crafty with his offense. He was found spitting in the eyes of the Elves before stabbing them, kicking up dirt as well. However, the one-handed man soon was struck by a mace to the chest. It resulted in a curse from the drunkard, who then slayed the Elf carrying the mace as another swiped his right thigh with their blade. He fell to his knee upon so, sending his sword into the Elf’s stomach. Being it was a fatal blow, the Elf collapsed onto Ames, taking him out of the fight for a short while. Zaheer I’l Lasha gave the fight his all, it looked. The man of Mariposa managed to slice through plenty of elves, although he took hits from maces along the way due his poor defensive skills. Zaheer’s right thigh is bruised took the brunt of a blow, while an Elven lance left a solid slice down his left cheek. Celso lost five eighths of his men in the battle. The Bloodcast Knight, Lazuruz Lupenzi, lead Benjamin Journey and other Howlester levies into the fray. The Bloodcast was adequate with his shield, blocking the brunt of a majority of attacks coming for him. However, he focused on defending with shield to get out too many slashes with his sword, only taking down a minor amount in his time in battle. Private Journey fought a hair better than the average levymen. While looking about him, he noticed the sheer number of elves around him- Clearly outnumbered. However, he pushed on, hacking and slashing his way decently- Until an arrow struck the back of his left shoulder, resulting in a yell from the Private as he snapped it off and continued his offensive push. Lupenzi lost a third of his men during the battle. Sergeant Shane Marth performed well in spite of the Elves’ numbers. With his blade in hand, the Darkmark schooled Claith managed to slaughter quite a chunk of the pointy-eared menaces, his outfit soon getting sprinkled in the red liquid. During the fray, Shane took a light slice to his shin. He countered this with a parry from his arming sword from another attack, then moving to stab the Nelfin. He looked towards his men as he took a small reprieve from the battle. Within his grouping, among the levymen, was Private Alban von Forst, who looked to be a little intimidated in the face of it all. Nevertheless, he followed the Claith into battle, performing much like any other man would. He witnessed the slaughter of all men around him a short time after entering the battle, and while he was distracted he took a blow to his jaw, sending him tumbling to the floor. His right hand was soon trampled upon, leaving it bruised from the boot. Marth lost a little less than a third of his original amount of troops. Theodore Artiemus was at his peak in battle performance. However his sheer focus on destroying the menace in front of him caused him to ignore the ones around him at his side, the men under his command falling to many Elven blades. For every Nelfin he killed, one of his own fell. As he slashed and parried, bashed and hid behind his shield from arrows, he eventually took a single injury from a slash. His right shoulder soon formed a bruise after he cut down his attacker, continuing on as his men were slaughtered. Once all was finished and quiet, he looked about to find the stragglers of his men looking at him in bewilderment. They had been thoroughly wrought by battle, as only thirty or so remained of the one hundred and sixty men from the beginning of the battle. It looked to be the newly recruited Alexander Donsly was born for the battlefield. The Bloodcast was filled with a bloodlust, his longsword and small shield combo cleaving through the bodies of Elves. It took an incredibly short amount of time for the Sergeant to become drenched in blood, boosting the morale of all men around him. In his awe-inspiring attack, Donsly took only a boot to his knee- Leaving a bruise to form later on. His men followed suit of his antics, onl a fourth being killed in the battle. Donsly’s squadron was claimed to be the best fighters in Magnus Viduggla’s entire division. Colonel Magnus Viduggla, with a mace and large shield in hand, took his fight to the enemy after letting a layer of Regalian levyman fill the gap. With his blunted weapon, the Colonel managed to take many elves down. However, the Colonel did not focus so much on leading his men- He was focused on the overwhelming numbers. During the battle, Magnus suffered a slash to his right forearm amidst the men. He lost thousands of men under his command. Valbrand Haagenvig, the Lieutenant Colonel, lead his men decently, only losing about a thousand out of two and half thousand total. He slaughtered a minor amount of the enemy in the battle, taking an arrow. Sergeant Major Inkeri Arud lead her men with great perception of all around her. Straying from the front lines of battle, she managed to command her men to a small loss of life. She came into minimal scuffles, resulting in a cut left palm from that of a sword’s blade and took a fist to to her right cheek, leaving a bruise. Avynn Ignace, a private specifically under Inkeri Arud, seemed to miss her mark in the battle. Her blows were slow yet deliberate, cleaving through the elves for a short period of time before an elven spear struck her shin, causing her to fall into the mud as another Elf slammed its mace right into Ignace’s shoulder, driving her further into the mud. Private Frejnir Viduggla was lead into the bloodshed by Corporal Sylvia Astri. Frejnir did not seem to have the right mindset, due to the massive amounts of Elves running right for him. With his skagger axes in hand and his face thick with the Skagger warpaint. He took out a small amount of the Elves of the Elven Moors, with war cries ringing out for all around to hear. He took a hilt to the right eye, resulting in it being blackened later on. While he was on his rampant offensive effort, the Viduggla also took a sword slice to his left calf, before blocking a sword with nothing but a forearm- His metal gauntlets protected him, though it was sure to leave a welt. Sylvia Astri didn’t perform well either, though looked promising at first. While she started off cleaving through the elves with her zweihander, the sheer amount of forces soon overwhelmed the heavy sword swinger. Taking an arrow to the shin, and a hilt strike to the forehead, she continued onwards. However- She did not get far. Soon enough, Astri was struck in the back of the head, falling flat down in the mud as darkness engulfed her vision. The yells and screams of battle continued on, as the Viduggla Standard’s men fought tooth and nail against their opposition. Blood turned the field red, as arrows and bodies of the dead littered it. However, with reports with being outnumbered three to one, the army was forcibly then ejected from the Moors, and to the coastline. Both Ravenstad and Black fleets were there to intercept and sail the remaining nine thousand or so men to safety. “F***!” The General, Garth Viduggla, kicked the wall of the ship as he stood in the Captain’s cabin, before slamming the side of his balled fist upon it. “Came with thirty f***ing thousand- Leaving with wha’- Nine thousand?! Bloody- Typhonus!” The Viduggla soon began to pace within the confines of the cabin while he spoke, “Why I-” “.. Kehlen, too.” Interjected Ardige Viduggla, who sat on a bench within the quarters. He carried a worn face, looking out to the seas. “Yeah- Kehlen. Wouldn’t have been left three t’one had they come, pah.” Garth took a moment to pause, before seating himself down as he placed his head in his hands. “.. Next battle? I’m heading into tha' fray.” “We shall return.” Following a string of defeats due to lack of numbers, the men of the Owl’s Talon found them de-moralized. Each man and woman who had lived were sure to remember the terrible defeat for years to come, haunting in the back of their mens as their comrades fell- Slain by Elven hands. Tags: @Jugswe @Jouster @Nesstro @TheMoistestMan @Walnoodle @CRASHIR @DolittleGuy @Owiver_ @PosidonX7 @JarrettdaCarrot @Varisus @MrH_ @Nitesho @Last_Link @Zombiel3ait @HydraLana @Dragonking14 @_JayP_ @ZiggyStarDusted @JennaLikesCoffee
Siselle Haagenvig fretted over Valbrand when he finally returned home, reminding him as continuously as she could of, "I am so proud, papa. You did well." @Jouster @Anakyrivo
Benjamin Journey would blend directly into the ranks of several nearby levy men. He was but a support troop. He had wielded himself with his trusty Drixon Spear and Shield, lunging forth with the long reaching, versatile weapon to stab into the armpit of a nearby Elven bladesmen. He wasn’t great at battle, only better than average, but he picked his fights with intelligence, only challenging those he would keep a distance with. As a volley of arrows dug themselves into him and nearby levies, he let off a yell, taking a moment to recover from his pain. He’d only continue pushing forwards shortly after, with the determination of a battle bard.
Lazaruz fumed thinking over the prior battle on the way home. He was an experienced fighter? A Bloodcast.. Yet who's blood had been spilt? His men.. Good f*cking men.. He'd do better next time, this just... Wasnt enough.
Darcie grit her teeth as she sat upon her cot, allowing her cousin to attend to her injuries. Should have seen that damned arrow coming, should have seen it coming. Her thoughts were a whirlwind, chastising herself and cursing the knife eared enemy that had not only took out one of her beloved horses but that of many of her fellow soldier lives. She laid back once her cousin was done, muttering out in Alt-Regalian to Raina, “Out-bloody-numbered... Spirit help us when the next battle comes.” @Nesstro
Avynn stuck up a hand through the mud desperately trying to get out only to be pinned once again by an elf. Her gaze wavered and dropped into black, all she could feel was...cotton. She sprang forward, gasping for breath, only to be pushed back onto the cot. "You're safe Avynn. Calm down." All the woman could utter as she settled back was "Osvald.."
For the longest while upon returning, Theodore was silent. Having seen this before so many times. Many around him died, and yet, he could not understand why for some reason, he wasn't afforded such. A burden of dread plagued his mind, but couldn't fathom words to reach out. All he saw was death. Those he killed so efficiently, it left others in a daze, or those he lead, the vast majority no longer with him. He felt as if he was death itself. Gaze cold, lips dry, mind heavy, soul broken, smile masking.
Magnus Viduggla helped his General in counting the losses. He assured his cousins and the surviving men under his command that it was a temporary setback, a low point admittedly but that things would turn for the better soon, that the armies would regain the lost progress in due time when things started looking up, that the men would learn from their mistakes, the war would be won, the Empire will always prevail. He maintained his stance all the way home to the Crown City, a desperate attempt to keep what little traces of morale remained in the decimated army. As he came home to the estate, however, and shut the door to his room before half-heartedly throwing his belongings aside, he felt so unbearably exhausted. He slouched onto a chair and stared out into nothingness. And then he wept.
Zaheer tosses another boot into the corner of his spot on the ship back home. "Thats uhhh... thirteen right? Thirteen pairs of boots. Four swords. Two and a half spears.... Six pickled elf ears..." He counts on his fingers again, something seemed wrong. He had done something horrible. "I think I left the helms back there." He told the other bruised members of the Warband.
