Salvation from the Shore
Stuck with the sea to their back, an Elven Army to before them and no plan in place to evacuate them from their fate, the Cadar's Wing continue to find themselves between a Rock & a Hard Place. Will the Spirit grant them salvation from their plight?
Stuck with the sea to their back, an Elven Army to before them and no plan in place to evacuate them from their fate, the Cadar's Wing continue to find themselves between a Rock & a Hard Place. Will the Spirit grant them salvation from their plight?
Contents
- Shale
- Watch
- Scrolls
- Showers
Shale, Shells & Sand. Sand which scratches at the skin, provides no pasture for the horses, and no sustainence for the troops of the Cadar's Wing. What limited provisions that the levies had gathered before their prolonged siege by the Elven forces had long since been eaten; fish had become scarce and any wildlife that flew over-head was fought over by the rivaled arrows of the enemy. As he came back from counting the horses under his command and control, the Officer of the Horse, Gideon Andre Hackett, frowned gravely. His skin had long since sunburnt from the exposure to the elements, leaving a pink-ish complexion on the man as he entered the central command tent.
Inside, the haggarded officers of the Cadar's Wing looked up with a dreariness in their eyes, with the Lt-Col Benedictus d'Vaud motioning for the man to come forward and speak his piece:
"Two-Thousand, Nine-Hundred & Eighty-Two Horses remain, sers."
A grim look came over the officers as they looked at one another, with the Lt-Col closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose in some irratated thought, whilst First Lieutenant Czylle Ravenstad spoke up to Hackett in a raised voice.
"How many?!" Czylle exclaimed first as she peered to Benedict, to the General and to Barrulf in turn. "How did they manage to do that without us knowing? I understand the lack of supplies, but to slaughter our own animals. How idiotic do you need to be?"
The Ravenstad Lieutenant paused in thought momentarily, seeing as she recieved no reply from either the Officer of the Horse, nor from her colleagues in the Command Tent. Her ire furthered.
"Can we risk any to scavenging? There has to be some sort of food to be had, there. Those of the soldiers we have that boast their hunting skills can be sent to gather what good they can. We are on a beach. That means there are fish in the sea."
"Yes, and we've exhausted all that there was - with Elven Raiders often attempting to shoot down our soldiers that are attempting to fish for what little is left." The Lieutentant-Colonel attempted to reason.
"We can not afford to lose more horses, Benedict." She protested "We have to find some comfortable ground, lest they will soon eat each other." With that, she turned to the Officer of the Horse. "And introduce stricter-rationing - What food is gathered we need portioned out. It will not be ideal, but this entire situation is not ideal either."
With that, the Officer of the Horse saluted and turned on his heel, before marching out back into the beach. The General looked stalwart over his officers, before turning back to look over some of the maps hung in the tent. An uneasy silence was soon broken by the Second Lieutenant Barrulf Blackmyre
"This isn't ideal..." he scoffed "It's s**t and I'm starving."
Watch duty was always one void of a dull affair. The Howlester Private leaned forward on wooden fence, high atop a look-out post at the northern end of the palisade encampment, far from the arrows of the enemy from near any side. She idly stared out the spyglass and watching for any threats to the few soldiers, who were attempting to fish along the shore-line, until the ships came into view. She rubbed her right eye momentarily with the back of her right hand, whilst the fabric of her uniform caught to her sunburnt cheek. She flinched a little from the pain, before looking back out towards the ships along the horizon.
"Ships to the North"
She shouted down to the soldiers below, assuming the men would carry the news to the officers.
Juliette stood up in that look-out post for several more hours, until the sun beated at its zenith, trying to mark out the identity of the ships. Were they the enemy? No - the ships were of an imperial-make. A friend. Her eyes darted upwards towards the masts, finally spotting the eye on the flags, a symbol to show it was not an enemy ship, the woman immediately straightened up with a shout of excitement:
"The Crusaders! The Crusader Ships! We're Saved!"
She jumped away from her spot in a moment of glee, until a sudden pang of hunger hit her gut like a punch, along with a suddent wave of drowsiness from her tired state. Placing a hand on the fence to ease and steady herself, he pocketed the spyglass and began to work her way down the ladder of the look-out post, whilst the soldiers beneath her began to shout out in a cheer.
Receiving a pat on the back from her fellow soldiers, she was ushered towards the command tent, to deliver the news to all those that she passed on the way. Juliette told all those she passed with a grin, reassuring the Reinard Levies as she did so, before finally entering the Lieutentant-Colonel's personal tent. Her beaming smile gleaming, like a jewel in a dark cavern, as she addressed the Lt-Col Benedictus d'Vaud.
"Imperial Ships are sailing to the north of us, Ser, heading our way. They fly the Holy Eye as their colours."
The Lt-Col, alone in the tent with the Howlester Private, rose his palms up towards the ceiling of the tent. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, he uttered a small prayer.
"Thank the Spirit."
Scrolls came into the camp from the small scouting groups, comprising of some of the more skilled survivalists of the Cadar's wing, collecting in the hands of the General Hamelin d'Vaud. His calmness eroded in the face of the rapid reports streaming in, a vacant expression befalling him for moments as news that Viduggla's Owl Talon were being overran, whilst he was commanding a deteriorating situation. The reserved general, stood within the command tent as his subordinates were out on duty, put on an azure cape and strode out to deliver his instructions straight to the commanding artillery officer. Who knew what he was thinking?
It was only when word reached him of the Crusader ships, by a soldier of the Piergarten levy, were sighted off the horizon that the General Hamelin spurred into quick action: ordering his own levies to rally and push firm against the elves besieging their encampment, in the hopes that the streams of Crusaders would land at the shore of the beachside palisade, offering quick aid alongside the squeezed defenders to relieve their lines, as the latter's ships sent supporting cannon-fire unto the elven attackers. With orders issues, the General went to his command tent to prepare his armour.
One of the first to receive the orders to rallying the troops was Officer of the Horse Gideon Hackett, who immediately distinguished himself as he sat upon his horse, revelling in the chances to draw blood. A cool sneer crossed the Leutz's face as he raised hand and spurred his horse, riding up and down his lines. "Soldiers!" he screeched, voice ringing with dull fire "In this battle, this day, this hour of blood and dead flesh, forget not what enemy it is you are to cope with one and all." All at once, the Officer's sneer metamorphosed into a cold grin. "The sort of… bucks, and mangy knife-eared stags that you're to compete with again!" A round of grimaces and cackles ran round the horsemen.
It was only when word reached him of the Crusader ships, by a soldier of the Piergarten levy, were sighted off the horizon that the General Hamelin spurred into quick action: ordering his own levies to rally and push firm against the elves besieging their encampment, in the hopes that the streams of Crusaders would land at the shore of the beachside palisade, offering quick aid alongside the squeezed defenders to relieve their lines, as the latter's ships sent supporting cannon-fire unto the elven attackers. With orders issues, the General went to his command tent to prepare his armour.
One of the first to receive the orders to rallying the troops was Officer of the Horse Gideon Hackett, who immediately distinguished himself as he sat upon his horse, revelling in the chances to draw blood. A cool sneer crossed the Leutz's face as he raised hand and spurred his horse, riding up and down his lines. "Soldiers!" he screeched, voice ringing with dull fire "In this battle, this day, this hour of blood and dead flesh, forget not what enemy it is you are to cope with one and all." All at once, the Officer's sneer metamorphosed into a cold grin. "The sort of… bucks, and mangy knife-eared stags that you're to compete with again!" A round of grimaces and cackles ran round the horsemen.
The Officer's gloved hand all at once flew into the air and spurred the line and his own horse forward. "A troop of delicate, noxious pretenders, who doth think us the most honourable vulgars to walk Aloria! Shall we let this band of dabbling dilettantes endeavor to set foot upon our holy lands?" A rallying cry sprung up among the men. "NAY!" Declared Hackett "Let's whip these lanky bastards for their arrogance, with a sharp crack of Regalian steel!" He spurred his horse onwards, drawing his own sharpened saber. The air filled with the clopping of hooves on clod as the enraged cavalry spurred forward
"Sound drums and trumpets! Spur your steeds with fury! Cedromar and Regalia's glory! Cadar and Victory!!"
On the last word his opened his mouth in a roar, his voice reverberating across the camp. He kicked his black beast forward in a charge, the rest of the horsemen following behind him. The cavalry came screaming out of the beach-encampment, roaring towards the elven lines and, to his delight, through to the ranks of their Aelferi allies, hooves like the thunder before the storm. When they crashed into the front line of infantry, some might have thought it had begun to storm from the rain that spattered the face of the combattants: a red rain - blood. Whose blood, no one could tell whether it was friend or foe, but the red spray coated and clung to the uniforms of every man and woman there.
On the last word his opened his mouth in a roar, his voice reverberating across the camp. He kicked his black beast forward in a charge, the rest of the horsemen following behind him. The cavalry came screaming out of the beach-encampment, roaring towards the elven lines and, to his delight, through to the ranks of their Aelferi allies, hooves like the thunder before the storm. When they crashed into the front line of infantry, some might have thought it had begun to storm from the rain that spattered the face of the combattants: a red rain - blood. Whose blood, no one could tell whether it was friend or foe, but the red spray coated and clung to the uniforms of every man and woman there.
Gideon wiped the blood from his face and looked around, he could see that the Elven front line had broke, the Aelferi Crusaders streamed in, weapons dripping rubied droplets. He grinned slowly, lazily as he looked around the sand-dunes and fields. The men were tired, but regrouping, several stray horses galloping through the fields in panic without their riders. The line had broke, but at the cost of six-hundred and fifty-seven cavalrymen, along within some thousand infantry of the du Pont Levy. To the cold, analytical mind of the fiery haired officer however, this was nothing, he could and would pay such a price to drink such sweet blood again from the veins such of a hated enemy.
As dawn approached, the elven armies were in an organized retreat that would stretch for days, and the recent spell of bad luck for the regalians far from home turned for the better - for the moment.
Showers slowly began to trickle down onto the war-exhausted men of the Cadar's Wing.
The battle at the beach had been a victory, but only a minor one - one that had managed to save all their necks from the brink, but not one that would quickly end their hunger or their want. As the Crusader army poured into the region, the elvan armies that had once pursued them now found themselves being pursued, through field, city and hill. It was not long until the Regalian forces found themselves in control of the majority of the region.
That was until the prolonged showers became a thick rain.
Dirt roads became unforgiving marshes, with a soldier's foot quickly having to be yanked out of the clinging mud, only to land into a previously trodden patch. Momentum slowed down to a crawl, as the Crusader Army and the Cadar's Wing found themselves close to the borders of the region. Among the soldiers within the Cadar's wing was a tall armored Velheim woman, who let out a disgruntled murmur as she slipped off her soggy glove to flick her wrist out splattering the ground beneath her in droplets. Letting out a slight sigh, running a hand briefly through her wet hair, Stella peered over to Barrulf and said uncomfortably:
"Wet through - Literally down to the bone."
The wolf-like man looked up to the sky, pausing mid-march, sinking his mud-caked boots somewhat into the deluged myre. He scowled, but did not complain. Turning to the Velheim woman a few paces behind him, he offered his own comment:
"Bit of rain shouldn't bother us, Private. Let's continue our Patrol and report back to the Commander. I imagine he'll be expecting us soon."
As dawn approached, the elven armies were in an organized retreat that would stretch for days, and the recent spell of bad luck for the regalians far from home turned for the better - for the moment.
Showers slowly began to trickle down onto the war-exhausted men of the Cadar's Wing.
The battle at the beach had been a victory, but only a minor one - one that had managed to save all their necks from the brink, but not one that would quickly end their hunger or their want. As the Crusader army poured into the region, the elvan armies that had once pursued them now found themselves being pursued, through field, city and hill. It was not long until the Regalian forces found themselves in control of the majority of the region.
That was until the prolonged showers became a thick rain.
Dirt roads became unforgiving marshes, with a soldier's foot quickly having to be yanked out of the clinging mud, only to land into a previously trodden patch. Momentum slowed down to a crawl, as the Crusader Army and the Cadar's Wing found themselves close to the borders of the region. Among the soldiers within the Cadar's wing was a tall armored Velheim woman, who let out a disgruntled murmur as she slipped off her soggy glove to flick her wrist out splattering the ground beneath her in droplets. Letting out a slight sigh, running a hand briefly through her wet hair, Stella peered over to Barrulf and said uncomfortably:
"Wet through - Literally down to the bone."
The wolf-like man looked up to the sky, pausing mid-march, sinking his mud-caked boots somewhat into the deluged myre. He scowled, but did not complain. Turning to the Velheim woman a few paces behind him, he offered his own comment:
"Bit of rain shouldn't bother us, Private. Let's continue our Patrol and report back to the Commander. I imagine he'll be expecting us soon."
Shrugging off the rain she squinted off, gazing out at the horizon before nodding at his words. Slipping her glove back on, continuing her march. Letting out a short breath, her chest felt tight beneath all this armor but she tried to not let it show. Keeping a hand rested at her hilt, gazing down at the floor as she responded.
"That's true, My apologies Lieutenant."
"Its fine. I can understand why you are tired. We're all..very tired and worn out from these endeavours the past few days. I can understand if you want to take a break to find some
shelter".
Do you want to be involved in the Cadar's Wing?
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OOC Note:
"That's true, My apologies Lieutenant."
"Its fine. I can understand why you are tired. We're all..very tired and worn out from these endeavours the past few days. I can understand if you want to take a break to find some
shelter".
Do you want to be involved in the Cadar's Wing?
Do you want to be in posts such as this?
Apply here!
OOC Note:
- This Lore Story is made with as much interaction as possible, in adherence with the Progression.
- DM rolls were taken independently by MarquisAlex to determine the following:
- Supplies & Scavenging.
- Extent of Exhaustion/Starvation.
- Disease-Risk Factor
- Relative Cohesion.
- Supplies & Scavenging.
