Setting: During the Battle Of Regalia, as shown in THIS Progress Post.
POV: Conf Helethium
He stepped back from the front line, breathing heavily, letting his men flow in to fill the gap the Deathlings had carved out. It had been nearly three hours since the battle at the Willow. In that time, the size of the group had fluctuated wildly, from seventy, to thirty, to nearly a hundred. At the moment they tallied in at around sixty as near as he could tell. He had them arranged quite well in his opinion.
The forward line, what he still stubbornly referred to as the "Ground Team" in his mind, consisted of two lines of thirteen men arranged in an alternating line so they could both attack the Deathlings at once. Behind them were the Reserves, around twenty men ready to rush in and fill any breaches in the line. And behind them, some thirty paces down the road, concealed within houses, was the "Archer Team" and their Security.
He had slowly allowed the Deathlings- numbering at nearly fifty themselves- to push his line back. He had picked this road due to the narrowness of every alleyway that lead to it- though he was hardly going to relly just on that. He had also had barricades thrown together to be safe. The only route east into the Commerce District was effectively held here.
The Deathling strategy had shifted over the course of the battle. They had opened up with a strong center, hoping to drive his men apart and break the line. That had nearly worked, though his Reserves had quickly filled the gap and pushed them out. Now they were spreading wider, with a more uniform line. He couldn't tell from where he was- the road was ever so slightly sloped down towards the Deathlings, making spying over the battle difficult, but they did not appear to be attempting anything more than a brute force push now...
Finally, after nearly half an hour of slowly pulling back, they passed the houses the archers were in. He had marked them with boxes, with the side facing away from the Deathlings marked with blue "X's" to make it impossible to miss for his men. Slowly... Give another ten meters...
The Deathling line was fully past the line of houses now. After another three minutes, Conf waved the Blue Flag over his head where he held it for a moment before bringing it down hard.
With the flag, the arrows fell. Like a hail of death piercing the unsuspecting Usurpers' backs. Black clouds of dust billowed up as armor and weapons clattered to the ground. More than one scream came from the living supporters of the Tyrant as well, their traitorous blood spilling into the road. Before the Deathling commander could even attempt to form a rear defense, the second volley flew, one of the arrows shattering through the man's throat, sending him reeling backwards, desperately trying to hold his lifeblood in. He died soon after, in the black slush of his Deathling subordinates.
It took but a few moments more for the remaining Usurpers to be cut down. And like that, the fight was over. His men held for a moment, the adrenaline running high. He let them have that moment, before barking out commands again. "Front line advance to the Archer Line! Reserves, pull forward and take the Front! Tend to your wounds and rest, we move out in thirty minutes!" He paused, "Scouts, to me!"
With that he strode for the Archer House on the left, followed by a trail of five scouts. He had more work to do. More dust to kick up, so to speak.
POV: Conf Helethium
[ Part One | Part Two | Part Three ]
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The Arming Sword clattered against the exposed chainmail at his breast, knocking Conf backwards. Fortunately the slashing cut had not penetrated the mail, but it was definitely going to be sore later. He was quick to retaliate- while the Deathling's arm was outstretched, he shifted his right foot backwards to steady himself and drove the point of his own steel sword up through a kink in the right side of the Lo Guard gambeson. The blade drove through, penetrating a lung before the Deathling collapsed into a pile of vile smelling black powder.=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
He stepped back from the front line, breathing heavily, letting his men flow in to fill the gap the Deathlings had carved out. It had been nearly three hours since the battle at the Willow. In that time, the size of the group had fluctuated wildly, from seventy, to thirty, to nearly a hundred. At the moment they tallied in at around sixty as near as he could tell. He had them arranged quite well in his opinion.
The forward line, what he still stubbornly referred to as the "Ground Team" in his mind, consisted of two lines of thirteen men arranged in an alternating line so they could both attack the Deathlings at once. Behind them were the Reserves, around twenty men ready to rush in and fill any breaches in the line. And behind them, some thirty paces down the road, concealed within houses, was the "Archer Team" and their Security.
He had slowly allowed the Deathlings- numbering at nearly fifty themselves- to push his line back. He had picked this road due to the narrowness of every alleyway that lead to it- though he was hardly going to relly just on that. He had also had barricades thrown together to be safe. The only route east into the Commerce District was effectively held here.
The Deathling strategy had shifted over the course of the battle. They had opened up with a strong center, hoping to drive his men apart and break the line. That had nearly worked, though his Reserves had quickly filled the gap and pushed them out. Now they were spreading wider, with a more uniform line. He couldn't tell from where he was- the road was ever so slightly sloped down towards the Deathlings, making spying over the battle difficult, but they did not appear to be attempting anything more than a brute force push now...
Finally, after nearly half an hour of slowly pulling back, they passed the houses the archers were in. He had marked them with boxes, with the side facing away from the Deathlings marked with blue "X's" to make it impossible to miss for his men. Slowly... Give another ten meters...
The Deathling line was fully past the line of houses now. After another three minutes, Conf waved the Blue Flag over his head where he held it for a moment before bringing it down hard.
With the flag, the arrows fell. Like a hail of death piercing the unsuspecting Usurpers' backs. Black clouds of dust billowed up as armor and weapons clattered to the ground. More than one scream came from the living supporters of the Tyrant as well, their traitorous blood spilling into the road. Before the Deathling commander could even attempt to form a rear defense, the second volley flew, one of the arrows shattering through the man's throat, sending him reeling backwards, desperately trying to hold his lifeblood in. He died soon after, in the black slush of his Deathling subordinates.
It took but a few moments more for the remaining Usurpers to be cut down. And like that, the fight was over. His men held for a moment, the adrenaline running high. He let them have that moment, before barking out commands again. "Front line advance to the Archer Line! Reserves, pull forward and take the Front! Tend to your wounds and rest, we move out in thirty minutes!" He paused, "Scouts, to me!"
With that he strode for the Archer House on the left, followed by a trail of five scouts. He had more work to do. More dust to kick up, so to speak.
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