Regalian-elven Subjugation War: Battle Of H'relllen

The Kade Host abandoned Taure Tinechor, marching east once more to meet up with the Typhonus Army and the Fong Fleet at the capital of the Lusits Kingdom. Taure Tinechor was retaken by the soldiers retreating from Hellar Tellarna, though only 5 baronies large worth of troops. The soldiers then took the Fong fleet around the continent past the Ithanian Seas and sailed west, to assault H’rellen, a town seemingly insignificant, home to one large temple but guarded by almost 2,500 Elves and who knows what else.

As soon as the Regalian Army arrived, now referred to as “The Grand Host”, the Fong ships unloaded the troops on smaller vessels which proceeded to make beach head. From the moment beach head was made, the fighting started almost immediately, largely in favor of the Grand Host’s infantry regiments, consisting largely of Kade and Typhonus levies. Ulric Typhonus led the army himself, having Thomas Kade, Mannfried Edvardsson, Theoden Typhonus, Valentino Sangiovese and Ludwig Fuchs as retinues. Councillor Fong meanwhile stayed back with the fleet, guarding the rear and spectating the battle from a far as Royal inspector. All seemed to be going as planned, until the wind suddenly shifted, the large flags on Fong’s proud Chi’i dancing in the wind, and the sound of Elven horns behind them. As fong turned around, and walked to the rear end of his ship, he peered into the horizon, making out 10 large Elven warships coming in at full speed from behind.

As his officers gathered around him (a comedy sight to behold mind you, tall Qadir officers surrounding a small Chi’i elderly) he was heard mumbling “Not even death can take me by surprise you seaborne scum” He promptly turned around, tapping his cane in a rhythmic fashion on the deck of the ship, quickly followed by drummers on his ship. From a deck below, a loud squeak of a clown nose could be heard, followed by a couple of metal scratching noises. As a shadow leaping from the lower deck, the Rabid Clown leaped up towards the central mast of Fong’s personal ship, clawing his way to the top of the mast where the large flags still swung in the wind. Once arrived at the top, the Rabid Clown unleashed a frenzy of colorful fireworks into the sky, flashing bright red and yellow. The Fong fleet, instructed in the signals, opened the hatches on the sides of their otherwise sailing vessels, deploying rowing oars manned by the many slaves previously hidden below decks. The ships then made abrupt turns to face the Elven fleet coming closer by the minute. The fireworks meanwhile also served to alert the armies fighting in H’rellen itself, but did little to deter their advance or make their leader reconsider his moves. Ulric Typhonus understood the necessity of achieving objectives in battle, the results weighed heavy on not only his, but also Thomas Kade’s reputation back home. The combined forces quickly moved up taking key points around the town and advancing the battle in their favor.

Fong had meanwhile rearranged his fleet in an orderly line. Facing the Elves, Baron Morei climbed onto the deck with his Maiar retinue, informing Fong of the fact that Elves had somehow acquired cannons, likely Qadir cannons due to the bronze cast. Fong stroke his beard’s full length with one hand, scraping his cane on the deck with his other while he looked up at the sky and the direction of the winds. He raised his cane up and said: “How appropriate, the Elves have guns. Why don’t we give them some fire Baron Morei? Prepare your men to cut off the Elven legs. Baron Morei nodded, jumping over the side of the deck with his Maiar soldiers, disappearing under the water moments before Fong moved to the Gong. As a large man started ringing the gong, Fong exclaimed: “Huo! Long! Zhang! Shengli! Shengli!” As the words spew forward, so did the bowels of the ship open up and spew forwards endless rows of chi’i in traditional red silken caster wear, their golden neck collars, typical of identifying mages, shining in the bright sunlight as they marched onto the deck in a perfect row.

As the gong sounded one final time, the Chi’i started performing casting in perfect unison almost, 50 of them on one side of the ship, on all of fong’s ships moments before the Elven ships tried to make a turn. Baron Morei had meanwhile reached the Elven ships, his Maiar sabotaging the rudders of the ships from underwater by attaching chains to them or sabotaging the control mechanisms. The ships were unable to steer left or right, and panic started to set in with the Elves, especially when they saw what formed in front of them.

As if a hundred people were stirring one massive pond, a large ball of fire was forming on a side of all of Fong’s ships, formed by almost 50 fire mages per ball steering their magic in perfect organized unison. As Fong threw his arm forward, aiming his cane at the Elven ships, he exclaimed one final time as loud as he could “Shengli!” and as if the second cataclysm itself had come onto Aloria, the balls of fire moved forward like large jet streams, swirling through the air in front of the ships, eventually taking the forms of large dragons on their way to eat the Elven ships. The pure heat warped the air around them, gently cindering Fong’s beard as it was thrown backwards, his eyes blinded by the light and violence of the fire. Within seconds, the Fire dragons still controlled by the fire mages, crashed into the ships, tearing through them and igniting the gunpowder decks below as the fire raged through every hole conceivable. The ships exploded in a violent rage of fire storm, what little Elves survived the first waves of fire jumping into the water screaming for their lives, all the while Fong maniacally laughing with his arms wide. The explosions were even heard on the land itself, where the Kade and Typhonus forces almost reached the grand temple. They turned around momentarily, seeing the blazing balls of fire beyond Fong’s ships. Ulric pressed them on, and they started their final assault on the Temple.

Fong’s glorious victory on the water had caused the Elves to lose heart on land. Everywhere in the city, Elves were fleeing and the guards left near the Temple suddenly dropped their weapons and hurried back inside, as if they had suddenly decided there was something more important indoors. As Ulric and some of his men entered the Temple, an eerie calm took over the place, the sounds of battle muffled by the decaying glory of an old Elven Temple. Upon a pedestal in the middle of the temple room sat a crown, more beautiful than any crown ever beheld by humans. Made of the most elegant shiny silver, encrusted with the most generous rubies and sapphires and finally embroidered with the richest gold smithing work ever seen, culminating in the grand emblem of the Elven Empire and the Medui crown. The object before them was nothing other than the most holiest of Elven artifacts, the Imperial crown of the Elven Empire, sitting on a pedestal seemingly for the taking.

As they approached however, the folly of entering an Elven Temple unprepared came crashing down on them. A group of roughly 40, what quickly became known as wind mages, Elves suddenly rushed into the room from the other side, unleashing a violent torrent of wind gusts and strong currents around the room. Ulric and his personal men were smashed from side to side, down on the floor and up against the walls. Luckily Ulrics heavy armor prevented too much damage to him besides a couple of broken ribs, but he was knocked unconscious when he was flung out of the building by one large gust of wind. Like a storm of specters, the Elven mages stormed out of the temple, large funnels of wind following them. Arrows had no use, the wind simply pushed them away, and soldiers could not come close. Ulric meanwhile unconscious was picked up by Ludwig Fuchs and Theoden Typhonus. Both took one of Ulric’s shoulders, and while carrying him with one arm, defending his motionless body with their other arm from Elven soldiers who had regained the courage to fight assailing them. Thomas meanwhile cleared the way for the retreat, ordering the troops around in an orderly retreat to guard Ulric’s body from increasing numbers of Elves pouring onto the scene. Luckily, the Elves did not have enough troops to follow the Human army, pushing it back to the beach head, and then resorting to using a constant barrage of wind magic to keep the army at bay. Retreat signals were given to Fong’s fleet and the fleet picked up the army, sailing back to Cote Sur li on the Ithanian coast.

The Battle was very costly for the Elves, but a loss for the Grand Host nonetheless. The Grand Host lost roughly 300 men, while the Elves lost almost 2,000, counting 500 at sea. Fong was silent the entire trip back to Cote Sur Li, the Rabid Clown’s squeaky nose sounds occasionally heard from the top mast, and a stray fireworks arrow flying left or right. News of the discovery of the Imperial Elven crown was quickly spread through the ranks, and eventually made it’s way through the local population in Ithania. Before long, everyone started talking about the potential consequences of the capture of this crown. Some would say the Elves could use it to crown their own new Emperor. Others said it would bring great glory to whoever brought the crown back to Regalia. Others would claim it would gather great fortunes if sold in Ithania, and others yet, would speak of more sinister things that the crown could hold.

Rolls for anyone who cares:

 

Pimp version of the battleplan for anyone who wants a laugh about Ulric and his punk ass pimps. Read at your disgression for foul language. Courtesy of imboring46.