They had congregated in the fields watched over by the gate- hundreds of them, devoid of any troop lines or coordination. A mist had approached from the north, swallowing the battlefield in an eerie fog that blurred the vision just enough to be noticeable.
"Dothrak, what must we do?"
He turned to see a young dwarf in cobbled together armour leaning behind one of the crenellations of the gate. Dothrak scanned the battlefield for options. No archer lines. No siege engines. Cavalry- but too few to make a difference. What had been their plan? To simply storm the gate by force?
"What do you see, out there?"
The boy looked apprehensive, as if afraid to reply. He glanced over the battlements tentatively, before speaking.
"They aren't in formation…"
Very good. Dothrak listened as he continued, nodding to the boy.
"No archers, or heavy cavalry."
The boy was gaining in confidence now as he listened, nodding occasionally to note his approval.
"Perhaps if we charge them from the front, strike before they can enter formation, we can run them through-"
He didn't want to destroy the boy's confidence. Not before a battle. He simply stopped nodding, hoping the boy would understand. He did.
"May-maybe we… they are strong at the front. Perhaps if we get around them somehow."
Better.
"Now you know what we must do."
The bulk of the Argost forces were stationed near side exits- out of view from the attackers and far enough away to take them by surprise. The plan was simple: Charge the bulk of the forces from the main gate, hopefully causing enough noise to divert the Wyvern forces from watching their flanks, after which the majority of the Argost forces would encircle the attackers. A double envelopment, William might have called it. Now, he stood beneath the gate, nothing but a layer of wood and iron between them and the enemy. He nodded to the horn-blowers above him, watching in anticipation from the gatehouse, to signal the first assault.
He moved forward slowly at first, in line with the Humorrin and Ailor to the right and left of him. He felt the carved stone beneath his feet- heard the rhythmic thump of steeled boot and clatter of plate armour behind him. The pace quickened. His breath misted through the gaps of his helmet. In an instant, they were mere feet away from their enemy. His heart raced as they collided with the Wyvern forces, but not with fear.
Never with fear.
The frantic activity of the hold continued as he staggered to the forges, still gripping the railings for support.
"Lord Arnyn?"
"Is he injured?"
Three smiths appeared from hidden hallways as he approached the forge, their faces illuminated by the ever-present orange glow of the furnaces.
"Osvald, get help!" one of them shouted. No.
"Get… out of my way."
"But my lord-"
"I need- I need my armour. Get Thara."
After a moment of uncertainty, they stood aside to let him pass, shouting to Thara. As William approached the centre of the forge, she emerged from one of the side-rooms, hammer in hand.
"William, I-"
"No time. They're already out there, I need to-"
She stopped him mid-sentence.
"You need to slow down. What happened?"
"Wyvern attacked, and-"
"Forget about bloody Wyvern. What happened to you?"
"It doesn't- I need to help Dothrak. I need to fight."
She sighed, before carefully placing the hammer against the wall and silently gesturing to the smiths behind her, who left in an instant. He hastily looked around the forge for his armour as she approached him. He couldn't find it.
"William."
He kept looking, ignoring her.
"Look at me."
He sighed in frustration, both at the vanishing of his armour and Thara's insistence. Nevertheless, he complied.
"Fight? You can barely walk."
The thought hadn't even occurred to him- he was so pre-occupied on finding his armour. On being ready. A red flush threatened to run up his neck as he clenched his jaw.
"I hadn't-"
"You hadn't thought 'bout that, 'ad you?"
Now he felt ashamed- like a child caught misbehaving. He spoke through his teeth.
"No."
At that, she laughed, though not cruelly. And continued to laugh until she spoke next.
"Dothrak can handle 'imself- when he's sober, at least."
Now, it was his turn to laugh.
"You're panicking. Close your eyes. Breathe. Picture what you're fightin' for."
He was in no position to negotiate, so he did as she asked. He felt something cold and smooth be placed in his empty hand as he pictured what he fought for. For fields of golden wheat, and a mountain that stretched to a purple and orange sky. For Dothrak, for Thara, Mathias, Arcadia, and the people that lived under the Argost sky. And for her.
"Feelin' better, I bet." as he opened his eyes.
"Better. What's this?" He gestured to the raven-black circular stone secured by thin rope in his raised hand. As he turned it over, four runes stared back at him.
ᚫ
ᚢ
ᛜ
ᛘ
"No word in Common for it. But maybe… when you wear it, you can remember."
Before he could reply, the smiths re-appeared in the forge, pieces of armour in hand. The assembly was complete in what felt like an instant. He nodded to the smiths awkwardly as they left- too embarrassed to apologise for his earlier harsh words. Then he turned to Thara.
"Thank you. For ever-"
"No time. You have a battle to win."
At that, he simply turned towards the hallway, pausing for a moment to breathe once again before running towards the main gate. The sound of his sword split the night as he drew it, Mathias by his side as the two charged the wet fields watched over by the gate of Argost.
"Dothrak, what must we do?"
He turned to see a young dwarf in cobbled together armour leaning behind one of the crenellations of the gate. Dothrak scanned the battlefield for options. No archer lines. No siege engines. Cavalry- but too few to make a difference. What had been their plan? To simply storm the gate by force?
"What do you see, out there?"
The boy looked apprehensive, as if afraid to reply. He glanced over the battlements tentatively, before speaking.
"They aren't in formation…"
Very good. Dothrak listened as he continued, nodding to the boy.
"No archers, or heavy cavalry."
The boy was gaining in confidence now as he listened, nodding occasionally to note his approval.
"Perhaps if we charge them from the front, strike before they can enter formation, we can run them through-"
He didn't want to destroy the boy's confidence. Not before a battle. He simply stopped nodding, hoping the boy would understand. He did.
"May-maybe we… they are strong at the front. Perhaps if we get around them somehow."
Better.
"Now you know what we must do."
The bulk of the Argost forces were stationed near side exits- out of view from the attackers and far enough away to take them by surprise. The plan was simple: Charge the bulk of the forces from the main gate, hopefully causing enough noise to divert the Wyvern forces from watching their flanks, after which the majority of the Argost forces would encircle the attackers. A double envelopment, William might have called it. Now, he stood beneath the gate, nothing but a layer of wood and iron between them and the enemy. He nodded to the horn-blowers above him, watching in anticipation from the gatehouse, to signal the first assault.
He moved forward slowly at first, in line with the Humorrin and Ailor to the right and left of him. He felt the carved stone beneath his feet- heard the rhythmic thump of steeled boot and clatter of plate armour behind him. The pace quickened. His breath misted through the gaps of his helmet. In an instant, they were mere feet away from their enemy. His heart raced as they collided with the Wyvern forces, but not with fear.
Never with fear.
The frantic activity of the hold continued as he staggered to the forges, still gripping the railings for support.
"Lord Arnyn?"
"Is he injured?"
Three smiths appeared from hidden hallways as he approached the forge, their faces illuminated by the ever-present orange glow of the furnaces.
"Osvald, get help!" one of them shouted. No.
"Get… out of my way."
"But my lord-"
"I need- I need my armour. Get Thara."
After a moment of uncertainty, they stood aside to let him pass, shouting to Thara. As William approached the centre of the forge, she emerged from one of the side-rooms, hammer in hand.
"William, I-"
"No time. They're already out there, I need to-"
She stopped him mid-sentence.
"You need to slow down. What happened?"
"Wyvern attacked, and-"
"Forget about bloody Wyvern. What happened to you?"
"It doesn't- I need to help Dothrak. I need to fight."
She sighed, before carefully placing the hammer against the wall and silently gesturing to the smiths behind her, who left in an instant. He hastily looked around the forge for his armour as she approached him. He couldn't find it.
"William."
He kept looking, ignoring her.
"Look at me."
He sighed in frustration, both at the vanishing of his armour and Thara's insistence. Nevertheless, he complied.
"Fight? You can barely walk."
The thought hadn't even occurred to him- he was so pre-occupied on finding his armour. On being ready. A red flush threatened to run up his neck as he clenched his jaw.
"I hadn't-"
"You hadn't thought 'bout that, 'ad you?"
Now he felt ashamed- like a child caught misbehaving. He spoke through his teeth.
"No."
At that, she laughed, though not cruelly. And continued to laugh until she spoke next.
"Dothrak can handle 'imself- when he's sober, at least."
Now, it was his turn to laugh.
"You're panicking. Close your eyes. Breathe. Picture what you're fightin' for."
He was in no position to negotiate, so he did as she asked. He felt something cold and smooth be placed in his empty hand as he pictured what he fought for. For fields of golden wheat, and a mountain that stretched to a purple and orange sky. For Dothrak, for Thara, Mathias, Arcadia, and the people that lived under the Argost sky. And for her.
"Feelin' better, I bet." as he opened his eyes.
"Better. What's this?" He gestured to the raven-black circular stone secured by thin rope in his raised hand. As he turned it over, four runes stared back at him.
ᚫ
ᚢ
ᛜ
ᛘ
"No word in Common for it. But maybe… when you wear it, you can remember."
Before he could reply, the smiths re-appeared in the forge, pieces of armour in hand. The assembly was complete in what felt like an instant. He nodded to the smiths awkwardly as they left- too embarrassed to apologise for his earlier harsh words. Then he turned to Thara.
"Thank you. For ever-"
"No time. You have a battle to win."
At that, he simply turned towards the hallway, pausing for a moment to breathe once again before running towards the main gate. The sound of his sword split the night as he drew it, Mathias by his side as the two charged the wet fields watched over by the gate of Argost.
"William, about earlier-" Mathias' voice was replaced by a grunt and a subsequent choking sound as he thrust his arming sword through the neck opening of a Wyvern soldier.
"Bad- time- to be- talking-" William's reply came in fragments as he parried an axe-head, before driving his own blade across the unprotected flank of his attacker.
He barely had time to recuperate before another three Wyvern soldiers came charging through the swirling mass of steel and bodies, headed straight for him and Mathias. William barely had time to shout "Three!" before they were upon them, swinging axe and longsword in a desperate attempt to score a blow.
The first of the tree, wielding a greatsword far larger than any he'd seen on the battlefield thus far immediately came at William with full force, whilst the other two focused Mathias. Instinctively, William went to parry.
Bad choice. The heft of the sword and the force behind the swing blew straight through his guard, almost knocking William's sword from his grasp. The next blow landed across his side unchallenged, successful in winding him with the blunt force of the blade and bringing him down on one knee. The next blow would kill him, William knew.
He turned to look up at the red-caped soldier, clutching his side as the Wyvern levy prepared his final stroke. William had no other option. Waiting just moments before the soldier brought the blade down upon him, he moved with as much speed and agility as his winded lungs and wounded side would allow, thrusting into the gap of the soldier's exposed right armpit. A river of red coated the soldier as he slumped to the dew-covered field without a word.
Still clutching his side, he scanned the battle around him, looking for Mathias. He saw the Jerusalem leader standing over two dead Wyvern soldiers, one without an arm, the other without a head. Perhaps in that moment, the battle would allow them some peace, William thought.
"Dothrak. Have you seen him anywhere?" he asked as he approached Mathias.
"No- I have not seen him since the battle began."
"We should try and-"
"ARNYN!" A familiar voice called to him from his left. He turned.
"Dothr-" his reply was cut short as an arrow whizzed through the air and struck his breastplate, bouncing away harmlessly. He couldn't allow another shot, spotting the archer that had loosed the arrow and sprinting for them through the slippery grass and fallen soldiers, Argost and Wyvern alike. He could see the whites of the man's eyes before he thrust through the stained red tunic.
"They… routing…" Dothrak's voice faded in and out of focus as the battle raged on around them. William gestured for Mathias to follow, as they cut a path through heavy resistance to his voice.
A black caped captain emerged from the mist, squaring off against William as they circled each other, reading each other, preparing. He considered his options as he stared into the black visage of the captain's helm.
Their armour was equal in measure, as were their weapons. The tip of the caped man's longsword shone mockingly in the light, inviting him.
"Lord Arnyn."
William stopped his circling as he heard the man's mocking voice.
"Yes. How could I fail to recognise you, after all you have killed? All you have destroyed?"
"And who are you?" It was all he could say in reply. The man laughed at his reply.
"It matters little. All that matters now is what I will do to your people, after all you have done to mine."
At that, William leapt forward, hoping to catch the man off-guard. The Wyvern captain was prepared, deflecting his blow with the greatest of ease and replying with a kick to his already wounded side that sent him staggering away.
"I trust the great William Arnyn, sentinel of Argost, knows the fate of a fallen fortress."
He charged back into the fray, with a flurry of cuts- left, right, upwards, downwards. The man spoke as he blocked them all.
"The men. The women. The children."
The man wound around William's blocked sword, pommel striking him in the side of his helm with a blow that rang his ears and shook his skull. The captain allowed no reprieve, with a cut that grazed into his left arm and a kick that sent him to the ground. William could do little more than turn and raise his sword- grip in one hand, blade in the other, as the captain brought his down to meet it. He struggled with the blade pressing down on him as the captain crouched over his body. Out of options. Out of time. He tried one last, final move.
He closed his eyes and breathed. Words came to him in the darkness- words from friends, and others he'd forgotten.
"As long as you try. All that matters." Dvorin.
"The snow, as bright as the stars." Dothrak.
"Remember, what you're fighting for." Thara.
"I'm still here."
Not like this. He would not die today.
The thought gave him courage as he pushed his right arm up with all his remaining strength, bringing the captain's cruel blade sliding towards the ground. William wasted no time, striking the blackened helmet of the captain with his left gauntlet. The man laughed in defeat as William stood over him, point aimed as his neck.
"No one will fight with you, in the end. It is your fate- to drown in your sins."
A pool of red grew at William's feet as Lightning gave the last, final word and silenced the captain forever.
Countless Wyvern levies lay dead or dying as Dothrak returned to the gate- exhausted from the fighting and exhilarated from the victory in equal measure. The injured poured into the hold around him as William and Terro of Jerusalem caught up to him. None of them had escaped unharmed, it seemed, William clutching his side and Terro limping slightly. There was an amicable silence between the three until they entered the halls of Argost.
"Well, this is not the visit I'd have planned to Argost."
"It was hard fought. Haven't had a fight like that in a while."
"Lost your touch, Dothrak?"
"You wish, Ailor."
The three laughed as they reached an important decision in the middle of the entrance hall.
"My leg."
"Aye, my side aches."
"Healer first, drinks second?" He asked as he leaned on his axe. He already knew the answer to that.
"Why not both?" They all said in unison as the three made their decision, entering the apothecary as victors.
TL;DR: Bloody hell this is a long one haha oops but long story short Wyvern lose a battle against Argost, and everyone gets drunk afterwards. Happy ending.
But for real
Mazz, you're a PvP legend and one of the greatest motivators for new players that I've seen in a very long time on Massive. It's a damn shame that you can't be more active- else we'd be out there kicking a55 together that much more.
Sephite, I'm eternally thankful that you're always there for guidance and support, especially these last few months. If I ever need help or advice, I can rest easy knowing you'll be there. And I hope you know I'll be there for you too.
So yeah. I'm glad to share the leadership of Argost with these two- they're infinitely more than a guy like me deserves, anyway.
@MazzerDK @Sephite @MyCatBubbles
