The Rise of Domrius (Full Version)

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Kellehendros -> The Rise of Domrius (10/27/2014 20:18:35)

He stood on the rise and watched the ranks of men as they marched by his position. Light rippled off spearpoints, glittered over spiked helms, flashed on breastplates and greaves. A crimson cape fluttered away from his shoulders, lifted by the breeze that tugged and teased. The wind played with the banner next to him as well, flapping the hem of the long cloth hanging from the tall pike thrust into the earth. Upon the standard was a crimson lion rampant on an argent field. The Lion of Alquen almost seemed to dance upon the breeze, rippling and prancing in the wind as the armored man watched the troops marching past him.

The first ranks were pivoting, lines splitting and folding outward, breaking out into units and squads to begin setting up the camp that would serve as their base of operations and main supply depot for the coming days. He watched in silence, brown eyes not straying from the sight as he was joined by another man. The pair made a study of contrasts. The first was of average height, but his well-formed stature was covered by a second skin of steel armor. Breastplate, pauldrons, vambraces, and even his solid boots showed dents and scarring from prior conflicts, but each also showed diligent care and maintenance. A sword hung from his waist in a battered leather scabbard, and a crested helm with an open face was couched under one arm as the red fabric of his cape flowed out behind him. Muddy brown eyes matched the stubble of cropped hair upon his head, and the eyes moved methodically across the scene, taking in each sight for a moment before moving on.

His companion was tall, almost gangling, a slender sort one might be forgiven for expecting to topple over in an unexpected gust of wind. He was clad in simple, if well fashioned, garments of cloth. Breeches, soft leather boots, and a belted tunic covered with a long vest, set the man apart from the soldiers about him. The differences gave him the air of a scholar, or perhaps the servant of a noble. His hair was long, a blond so blinding that for all intents and purposes it was white, and hung in a tidy sheet down to his shoulders. He was unarmed, bearing only a slender cane of some dark wood upon which he leaned, observing the same sights as the armored man. The second man’s eyes an unusual, mismatched set, one sapphire blue, one emerald green. Each orb sparked and glittered with intelligence, flitting over the scene seemingly at random, taking in a sight for a second or two before jumping and lingering on another squad or unit. “We've come a long way, Rapheel.” His voice was quiet, introspective. It was not, however, the voice of a servant. “In the end, will it be worth the price that we will pay?”

Rapheel shifted, his eyes not straying from the soldiers preparing the camp. “It is not my place to question our orders, sir.”

“Just here to see that the men follow orders, eh?” The second man smiled, shifting slightly. He shuffled the cane to his other hand, adjusting his stance. Now free, his right hand went unconsciously to his right leg, rubbing it gingerly. It was an old, habitual gesture, one Rapheel had seen a hundred times in their years of service together.

“Yes, sir.” The soldier paused for several long moments, and then continued without glancing at his companion. “You should talk to Rethra about your leg. I am sure she could find you something to ease the pain.”

The man shrugged in reply, continuing to work at the muscle. “I am sure that she could, but her concoctions make me sleepy and dull my focus. An ounce of discomfort is preferable to the alternatives.” He was silent for several seconds. “Tell me, have the scouts returned from the pass?”

“No, sir, but I expect them to be back shortly.”

“Very good.” Mismatched eyes glanced skyward briefly, squinting and evaluating the sky above them. “Send them to me once they return. I should be in my pavilion by then. The Marquess will be expecting a missive on our progress, and of late the Emperor has been leaning on him for results.”

“I will send them as soon as they return, milord.”

Snorting at the honorific, the unarmored man shook his head. “We've had this discussion before, Raph. Sir, if you must, but we've been together too long for you to be calling me that. Dom, or if that’s too informal for the crotchety old warhorse in you, Domrius, please.”

“You’re the commanding officer, sir.”

“Now you’re doing it to annoy me.”

The armored man smiled briefly. “Perhaps I am. Get some rest, sir, I’ll keep an eye on things here.”




It was early in the morning when the pair reconvened at the foot of the switchbacking trail that wound its way up the side of the mountain, eventually arriving at the Gripclaw Pass. Leaning on his cane, Domrius scowled up at the path silently, not looking forward to the trek that would be required to reach the summit.

Clad again in his armor and crimson cape, Rapheel looked from the men assembled behind the pair to Domrius, and then up the mountain as well. His voice was quiet. “I can have the men bring a palanquin for you.”

“Do I look like the Emperor to you?” Domrius returned swiftly, his voice even softer.

Rapheel covered a snort of reflexive laughter with a fake fit of coughing. “Dom, you can’t say things like that! I mean, Lords, if someone heard and word got back to the Imperium...”

Domrius nodded, his smile fading slightly. “I won’t let the men see me like that. Weak.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to them, Dom. The men know what you’re capable of.”

He glanced at Rapheel, the humor draining out of his expression. “And the levies from Vendret?” Domrius shook his head. “I’ll ride the horse, it will be sufficient.”

“As you wish, sir.” Rapheel responded, waving to one of the ostlers waiting nearby with his own horse. He glanced back to his friend and commander. “Why are you doing this?”

Domrius blinked, turning his mismatched gaze from its contemplation of the mountain, of the troops beginning to march up the trail, to the soldier. “We have orders, Raph. What are you talking about? We are doing this because of orders.”

Rapheel shook his head. “No, Dom, I mean this,” he motioned towards the mountain, “meeting with them. You know that they won’t yield. We will have to force the pass.”

“I know, Raph. I wish that wasn’t the case, even though I know it will be. Still, I’ll give them the choice.”

“And when they refuse?”

Domrius looked away from his friend, up, towards the mountains and the western kingdoms beyond. His voice was quiet, steady. “I’ll do what must be done.”




Enric Artos of Daret stood on the path that cut down the center of the pass, clad in his armor, the double-headed falcon of Daret upon his chest. He was alone, waiting. Glancing up at the sun, Enric judged the time to be about right. Behind him, perhaps a half-mile away, the army of the alliance was gathered. A quarter mile away, between him and the army, were the remaining allied commanders.

For one reason or another they had chosen him to speak with the Alquen representative when the invaders had come forward under a peace banner. Enric was not particularly pleased with the idea. The delay made him nervous. He understood that the alliance’s action in the Gripclaw pass could never be more than a delaying action, a fight to buy time for the alliance to gather the rest of its forces to face the threat. Yet, even as he watched there were more Alquen men marching up, forming into ranks as they waited for the parley to begin. Already the men gathered beneath Alquen’s bloody lion were half the number of the allied army well behind Daret’s commander. In half an hour they might be evenly matched, in a hour they would be outnumbered. He had known that the Alquen army was large, larger than the token defensive force cobbled together by the alliance, but it was one thing to know that, and another entirely to see the evidence as Alquen’s vanguard gathered beneath the crimson lion standard.

The hand that rested upon the hilt of his sword flexed slowly, and leather creaked in quiet protest. Two men walked out from the Alquen lines. Enric waited, watching as the pair came closer. One was armored, and the alliance commander naturally took him for the commander of the enemy force. He was accompanied but a taller man walking with a cane and a pronounced limp, a retainer or servant, perhaps an advisor. The Daret commander watched them approach, containing his anxiety and keeping his expression neutral as the pair slowly moved closer, reminding himself that every minute of delay was another minute for the alliance to prepare. When they finally reached him, the tall man grimacing and leaning on his staff, Enric spoke without preamble, his tone even as he addressed the armored man. “We agreed to one representative. I cannot help but notice that you are not alone.”

To Enric’s surprise, it was the tall man who replied, leaning on his cane and smiling slightly as he looked at Daret’s commander. “You will have to forgive Rapheel, my lord. He is very devoted to ensuring my survival,” he motioned with his free hand to himself, and his cane, “and as you can see, I am hardly an imposing figure.”

Enric frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at the man. “Who on earth are you?”

The man leaned on his cane, smiling in a manner that the allied commander found extremely annoying. “My name is Domrius, appointed commander of these men by the Silver Marquess, with the blessing of the Emperor, all glory to the Empire.” His tone was wry, with an undercurrent of amusement, as though the words were a joke that Enric couldn’t quite grasp. After a moment Domrius shifted, leaning on his cane, rubbing his right leg, and observing. “You’re from Daret.”

“We,” Enric riposted, placing particular emphasis on the pronoun,” are from Daret. We are from Je. We are from Thanisgard. We are from Asgeir. We are from the Oramus Collective. We are from Kulak. We are from Gilrade. We are the Alliance of the West, united against the tyranny of the so-called Alquen Empire. We will not bow to despots and demagogues. Begone from this place, or we will cast you down the mountain in ruin and disgrace.”

Domrius shifted fractionally, apparently unmoved by Enric’s passion, or his words. “Alquen marches behind me. You may hold this pass against me for days, weeks even, but in the end I will step over your bones. Your bravado is commendable, but this defiance is meaningless.”

“Defiance in the face of tyranny is never meaningless.” Enric smiled. “You will break your swords upon our armor, and for every man that falls you will lose a dozen of your own, I swear it. And in the end, even if you kill every man of us, you will be broken in the attempt, and what will you have then, hm?”

“Ten thousand men, give or take a few hundred.” Domrius sighed, looking past the allied commander, eyeing the groupings beyond him. “Are you sure that you will not turn from this course?”

Enric blinked, momentarily staggered by the man’s words, the simple, matter-of-fact style of his reply. “That’s impossible. The Empire can’t field such a force, not with the rebellions in the southern provinces.” Daret’s commander shook his head. “You’re bluffing, and even if you are not, we will not stand aside, we will not surrender.”

Domrius shifted, turning his mismatched eyes to Enric, his voice cold. “So be it. We are finished here. Inform your compatriots that my men will attack in two hours time.” Gesturing with his cane, the tall man turned, beginning to hobble back towards his own lines. “Come Raph, there are dispositions to make.”

Waiting long enough to see Domrius’ armored companion turn and move back towards Alquen’s lines, Enric pivoted and hurried back to where the the allied commanders waited, his visage strained. “My lords,” he began, reaching the waiting alliance leaders, “Alquen’s forces are led by a man by the name of Domrius. I have heard some things of this man, but that is a matter for another time. His words seem to imply that the Empire has crushed the southern rebellions. If that is true… We are facing much higher odds than we had anticipated. Domrius has said that his forces will attack in two hours time. Return to your men and begin your preparations. We reconvene in an hour to finalize our plans. I expect you will bring your best strategies.”




Draycos777 -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (10/29/2014 9:24:36)

“Place the flag of Je 20 meters in front of the fourth tent so that the light from the moon hits it squarely from behind.”

Articis had been directing the finishing touches of Je's war camp for an hour now when one of his soldier approached him. Both bowed, greeting each other before speaking. “My lord, it is nearly time for you to gather with the rest of the Allied commanders. Please, it would be best for you not to arrive late.” The soldier expressed his concern to his unconcerned commander.

Articis scratched his head in a nonchalant manner. “Its at time already, huh? Alright mind taking over here for me? The girls are still asleep or else I'd have them do it.”

The soldier smiled at Articis. “It would seem that they still need a bit more discipline, my lord.”

Articis laughed at his soldier's remark. “You might just be right about that. Thank you Boris.”

“It is nothing, my lord.” The soldier, Boris, assured Articis as he walked off for the meeting of representatives.




Articis stood to the far right of the rest of the allied commanders while Enric spoke with the leaders of the Alquen Empire's army. A slight scowl appeared across Articis' face then vanished before the other commanders looked his way. “Two of them? Were not the representatives to meet without companions? Surely they wouldn't use the meeting as a cover to weaken us by killing our chosen representative?” From his angle Articis could see all members of both parties and realized this was most likely not the case since one of Alquen's two representatives is himself injured. Puzzled, Articis placed his right hand on the tip of his chin. “Why make an injured man a representative for no reason when another capable man is already selected? What is his importance to their army that they'd bring him along against the agreed to conditions?” The parley between the two sides continued on as Articis mulled over this over in his mind.

His focus returned to the debate, Articis observed Daret's commander shake his head and reply in response to taller Alquen representative. The two men from Alquen stood there for a few seconds before turning and heading back down their side of the trail. As Enric turned to stride toward the allied commanders Articis folded his arms across his chest waiting to hear how swimmingly the argument went.

“My lords,” Enric's voice reached out as he stopped in front of the allied commanders. “Alquen’s forces are led by a man by the name of Domrius. I have heard somethings of this man, but that is a matter for another time. His words seem to imply that the Empire has crushed the southern rebellions. If that is true… We are facing much higher odds than we had anticipated. Domrius has said that his forces will attack in two hours time. Return to your men and begin your preparations. We reconvene in an hour to finalize our plans. I expect you will bring your best strategies.”

“Natati,...” Articis mumbled to himself staring off into the spot Alquen's acting representatives disappeared. Suddenly Articis spoke out and his distinct Je accent, said by others to sound like smooth stones being tossed into a river, resonated across the area. “Rekonreti!” With this Articis rotated to face the direction his men had set up camp, in the southern most part of the allied main camp, and took off. The clank of metal following behind each step as gravel connected to the bottom of his sabatons.




As Articis reached Je's camp two slender arms wrapped themselves around his waist, stopping him momentarily. Looking down toward his right side a pointed black hat, tilted on it's side, popped into Articis' sight. Attached to the bottom of the hat was a small head with yellow eyes, much like his own, staring back at him.

“Welcome back, Papa.” From the feminine face came an equally feminine sounding voice, which owned the same trademark Je accent. It was however, for obvious reasons, much softer then Articis' own voice. “How was the discussion? Did it go as bad as you thought it would?”

Articis smiled, then lifted the hat off of the girl's head fully exposing her short and wavy silver hair. Putting his other hand on her head, as she struggled to grasp the remove headwear, Articis rubbed the young girl's head. “No, in fact it probably went better since I wasn't the one speaking.” Chuckling he returned the hat to its owner's head, who's hands clamped down to secure it back into place. The girl straighten up in front of Articis as he spoke, a grin on her face while Articis' face and voice began to take on a more serious tone. “Ytha, I need you and your sister to be battle ready in thirty minutes. Meet with me once I've finished battle formation with our soldiers.”

Ytha shifted her stance, moving her hat slightly upward, so that her eyes made contact with Articis' and an almost non-existent spark passed through her eyes. “Its time for it begin then?” Ytha's grin slightly faded

“That's right, in two hours it all starts. And I want you two at the strategic meeting as well.”

Ytha's grin widen once more. “Alrighty then, see you in thirty papa!” As the last word escaped the young girl's mouth, Ytha disappeared just as quickly as she had showed up.

Articis sighed at the spot his daughter had just been and muttered to himself. “That girl, I swear. She is getting better at ninjutsu. If she keeps going at this rate, she'll give me a heart attack when I get old.” Articis thought on how Ytha hugged him from behind. “I barely felt her presence this time. I wonder how hard she must have worked to become that furtive, in the short amount of time I left the camp for the parley til I came back?”

With a feeling of pride building in his chest, Articis continued to Je camp in order to prepare his soldier for the approaching first battle.




Moving like the wind was second nature to Ytha now, yet she still remembers when it was more difficult her for her to move with the wind then it was to slow her breathing or quicken the pace of her blood at will. Walking into the tent she share with her sister and father Ytha noticed another girl, who was exactly identical in appearance to herself, sitting on a chair with her head facing downward reading. Her tanned caucasian skin mixed with her leather armor and the background of the tent in such a way that if her hair wasn't a noticeable sliver, she might be missed by those not familiar with the girl. Inside the tent, to the left of the sitting girl were three mats that acted as beds for the inhabitants. Each bed had neatly folded blankets and one pillow on it and at the foot, a bag which held belonging. Paying the girl no mind, Ytha continue walking into the tent until she reach the middle of beds. Bend down, Ytha opened the bag and pulled out a black cloth which held the appearance of a robe with the bottom cut short. “Is that your dairy you're reading?” Ytha asked the girl casually, without turning to look at her, undoing the bow at her back.

“I'm studying “English”, like you should be doing to.” The girl replied without looking to see who it was that spoke to her. “It was hard enough with tutors, now we have to learn it ourselves.” The girl's voice, while carrying the same sound as Ytha's, was stern and sharp. Suddenly the girl closed the book she was reading and sighed. “I guess that can wait for now though. If your back that must mean its time we headed out, right?”

“That's right Rayna,” Ytha turned her head to face the question's owner, the two girl's eyes locked. “Papa wants us to join a strategic meeting or something with him.”

The girl, identified as Rayna, sighed and stood up. “Wait, til after you've finished putting on your shirt before speaking. I haven't studied in muffled mouth yet.”

Ytha grinned tying a sash around the robe she now wore, a purple vest sat just above it. “Ah-ha, sorry.”

Placing the book on the chair she was just sitting on, she turned and reached for a metal breastplate that was secured on a wooden pole behind her. After undoing the harness holding it in place, Rayna began to fasten it on top of her jerkin. With her breastplate securely fastened Rayna gripped her sheathed swords, which hung on the same wood pole, and tighten one on each waist. Striding out of the tent she call out. “I'll go out and meet Papa first, don't take to long.”

Ytha waved with her left arm, seeing Rayna off, as the other worked a boot onto her right foot.




In the middle of Je camp, Articis looked across to the three formations of soldiers in front of him. A hundred and fifty men, twenty-five for each formation and sixty in reserve. Directly behind the formations flew the flag of Je, a black banner sporting a blue crescent moon. A new set of footsteps prompted Articis to turn his head to the right. “Rayna,” Articis smiled, placing his hand on Rayna's left shoulder as she stood to his right. “How are you feeling? Nervous?”

“A little,” Rayna answered. She'd be lying if she said other-wise. Rayna looked over the group of soldiers that she would be leading. She was familiar with most of them, as she had lead them in several charges against bandits before. Yet bandits and an army of trained and tried veterans are two different things. This will be the first time she will have set foot on a war front as a participant and not as an observer. Rayna shook her head, pushing away her thoughts of doubt, and faced Articis. “I'll be fine though.”

“This was our wish after all.” Ytha appeared on Articis' left, continuing her sister's thought “To fight a real battle by your side.”

“That's right Papa, so no matter how hard you try you won't be sending us back home.” Rayna smiled as she playfully rebuked her father for his attempt at trying to find a reason to send her home.

Putting his hands in the air in defeat, Articis sighed. “Alright, alright you got me. Let's head back to the main camp before we're late.” Turning to the soldiers, Articis gave them orders to be ready for orders to march once they had returned.






TJByrum -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (10/30/2014 18:35:45)

Yesterday, half a day's travel from Gripclass Pass
"Ah!"

The euphoric feeling of cool water ran over the young woman's face. Dark red beads rolled off of her smooth cheeks, forming a homogenous mixture with the thin stream. The rejuvenating liquid left her in a lucid-like trance. She could feel the gentle breeze of Spring blowing against her face as the blistering sun behind her kissed her neck. Her long blonde hair was messy: wet with sweat and covered in dirt. Her light blue eyes wearily glared back at her from within the reflective stream. Beside her lay a scarf-like cloth, approximately four feet long and one foot wide. It was a light blue color, emblazoned with the banner of her clan: a purple raven with a gold border and the name 'Jojora' beneath it. It was her Ki'gar, signifying not only her family name, but her clan and home region as well. All Varan had one, as there mothers knit them when they are very young. A Varan must wear their Ki'gar at all times unless they bathe. They were an important part of Varan culture. As the young woman stood up she wrapped the Ki'gar around her neck like a scarf and turned around.

"Oh!" A stout man with a rough brown beard and long brown hair was standing behind her, carrying two buckets. His dark blue eyes reminded her of the indigo nights back home in Asgeir, while his slightly-wrinkled face showcased his experience. "Apologies m'lady," the warrior quickly exclaimed, "I was only coming to refill the buckets."

"Oh, no, you're fine," she replied, "I was startled, that's all." The warrior grinned and bent down to refill the buckets. It was then that the woman noticed his Ki'gar: dark blue with the image of a white wolf's head; below it was 'Valgard'. "You... you're Koros' adviser, aren't you? Volrun? A member of the legendary Valgard family?" The woman could not help but be excited. To stand beside a warrior with as much renown as a Valgard? It was such a honor in her eyes. She had seen him plenty of times but he had never approached her.

"Aye, that I am," he replied, putting a full bucket to the side and grabbing the other to fill it up. He looked out of the corner of his eye to see the woman looking at him. She was a decent looking woman;' a bit dirty from the journey, but pretty nonetheless. She'd make a fine shield-maiden for the legends. He had seen her plenty of times, but his scouting missions and constant adviser-ship to Koros kept him to busy to interact with anyone. "Tell me your name, and why did you chose to come here? Of all the Unproven who come along with us, you are the only woman."

The woman smiled and replied with a typical Varan response: "I am Aesa. I chose to fight because I am Varan. We owe our allegiance to no other master than our kin. I fight for my home, for my family, and for the brothers and sisters at my side." She paused for a minute before replying with her own input. "And because war never changes; innocent people die in war, and I am here to help put a stop to that."

Volrun could not help but grin at the girl's naivety. "A valiant response," he began, "but if you truly believe that war never changes, then you will not survive this war."

The girl looked at Volrun with a stunned expression. She was a bit taken back, as if he had insulted her. Demanding, she ask "how do you mean?"

"War always changes. It evolves... it adapts. Men once fought with sticks and stones, over food and water. Now? We fight with swords and shields, with bows and armor. There will come a day when men will fight one another without actually fighting one another. If we fail to see that truth, then the Varan will fall at Gripclaw Pass; and when the Legions of Alquen march into Asgeir, Asgeir will fall. This isn't Asgeir, girl, remember that. War changes. We must learn to evolve, to adapt. So when you pray to the Gods tonight, remember to pray that we can change with it."




Current time, Gripclaw Pass
The Varan commander, Koros Jarn - 'the Grey Eagle', stood there with the other generals. Behind him was the warrior Volrun Valgard. The others hailed from such lands and kingdoms as Daret, Je, Thanisgard, Kulak, Gilrade, and the Oramus Collective. Many brave hearts had answered the call to arms for the western alliance. Enric was now on his way back to the commanders after speaking with the opposing generals. He finally arrived and began to speak: “Alquen’s forces are led by a man by the name of Domrius. I have heard somethings of this man, but that is a matter for another time. His words seem to imply that the Empire has crushed the southern rebellions. If that is true… We are facing much higher odds than we had anticipated. Domrius has said that his forces will attack in two hours time. Return to your men and begin your preparations. We reconvene in an hour to finalize our plans. I expect you will bring your best strategies.”

The first to speak up was a commander of Je. "Natati," he said, "Rekonreti!" Neither Koros or Volrun knew what the man had said.

Koros stepped forth after the Je commander took off towards camp: "The Varan stand ready to defend the pass, Enric of Daret. Expect me and my adviser, Volrun, to attend the meeting within an hour. We still have a few preparations to prepare back at the tent. In the meantime I would suggest we all order our troops to fill their stomachs before the coming battle - no need to fight on an empty stomach."

"Aye," Volrun agreed. "Apologies comrades, may the Gods be with you." Both Varan turned around and headed back for their camp, located on the far southern flank.




Dragonnightwolf -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (10/31/2014 4:30:34)

12 hours before Gripclaw Pass:

Thomas, Cory and Harry all rode up front today talking with Trevor about where they were going.

“But why are we going to Gripclaw pass?” Cory asked scratching at his arm absent mindedly, the sounds of horse hooves upon ground echoing.

“Because we are needed. You would have the other kingdoms face the threat alone?” Trevor questioned glancing his way.

Harry frowned “Sir, if I may speak freely. What do we know of this.. empire?”

Trevor thought about that. “Almost nothing Harry, I know of rumors that spread stating some of the Southern places were perhaps resisting, but that’s about all I know there. I also heard a story or two in that last tavern we just passed stating that this empire’s tyranny knows no bounds and would take siege of the land that rightfully belongs to Thanisgard.”

Thomas smacked a mosquito away. “If that’s true Commander, why then are we taking only 300 of our troops?”

Trevor sighed. It was very true. He had asked for the kingdom to spare him a thousand men. He pointed out that if the empire was as much a threat as he’d heard in the last several months, it might just be the biggest threat to the kingdom in decades.

“They wouldn’t give me any more men Thomas. Believe me. I tried to get the kingdom to allow me to take a thousand. They granted three hundred. That’s all they could spare, or so they said. I still say a thousand would have been a better deal.” Trevor answered finally. He glumly wished he’d had more men.

6 hours to Graveclaw Pass: “Sir, we must press on if we are to meet in time with the other kingdoms.” Harry stated aloud. “Yes, I know. I’m just finalizing our rations and count."

At Graveclaw Pass: They arrived from the North. All 300 pulling in behind them. Trevor took Thomas and Harry with him. Cory was left at the camp to make preparations with the three hundred men that came along. Harry raised an eyebrow when he saw the delegations. Trevor too looked on with a frown on his face. Why are there two men to a meeting when only one had been agreed upon? he thought quietly.

Thomas did not like the looks of this at all.



“Alquen’s forces are led by a man by the name of Domrius. I have heard somethings of this man, but that is a matter for another time. His words seem to imply that the Empire has crushed the southern rebellions. If that is true… We are facing much higher odds than we had anticipated. Domrius has said that his forces will attack in two hours time. Return to your men and begin your preparations. We reconvene in an hour to finalize our plans. I expect you will bring your best strategies.”

When the returned reply came. Trevor’s face fell into shock. The empire had crushed the Southern rebellion. This was terrible news indeed.

“You have the support of Thanisgard Enric of Daret. The empire will pay dearly for it’s crime. Myself and my lead support, Thomas, Harry and Cory will be at the meeting.” Trevor looked at the other allied commanders, gave them a salute of respect and turned for camp which was on the NorthEastern territory.
Just within eyesight of the other commanders. Trevor closed a fist tight with anger and said just under his breath. "They will pay."

Trevor ran back to the camp with Harry and Thomas in tow. "Harry, Inform Cory and get him to meet me at my tent. Thomas, Tell the men to eat and prepare themselves. I want a contingent of 20 archers and 80 calvary troops ready when we return."

Trevor went into his tent and put a hand to his head. "Great good gods." He said to the thin air. "The entire South rebellion, wiped out. Oh Sons of my ancestors what are we going to do? Their forces are huge."

Trevor looked at the map he had of the pass and gazed across it carefully. There were a few places where he could stick the archers. But the front lines had to hold. He stared scratching his head quickly.

They had to punch a hole in the enemy lines, cut off supplies, cut off artillery.

He headed out, gathering up Cory, Thomas and Harry.

At the Commander's tent: "I think what we ought to do is punch a hole in the enemy lines. Cut off supplies and Artillery. If we can somehow weaken those, that may assist us outright in an ongoing battle."

Thomas pointed at the map where there were a few X's. "We could position some archer's from our regiment, here, here, and here. A total of 20 shooting arrows from a longer range in areas that have more cover so artillery fired upon them is less likely to reach."

Harry now pointed to a circle on the map. "Meanwhile, a contingent of 80 of our calvary could hammer the enemy lines and try to make holes so that other allied kingdoms can get their men in position or gain vantage points."

Trevor looked up at the other allied commanders. "Now I've never fought this empire, But we have had battles before in Thanisgard, This was one of the strategies we employed back then. I could also send a messenger to my kingdom requesting more troops, now that I have a visual idea of what we're facing here. I might be able to now convince the King and Queen to send me another 700 men. But before I do, I'd like to hear what the rest of you have to say."

Cory looked up and watched the proceedings. Trevor had asked him to watch body language in case a spy were present. Something Trevor had learned in past battles was that spies were possible.




Zephyrial -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (10/31/2014 22:01:45)

The commanders’ first meeting had not been a pleasant experience. Gathering at a neutral position in front of their massing forces, they had exchanged platitudes and handshakes – some friendly, some uneasy – and dispatched the commander from Daret to meet with the generals of the Alquen horde. Sayden Ka’urn, High Magus of the Oramus Collective, had maintained a stony silence throughout their congress, and was graced with dark glares and turned backs in response. The Oramus Collective had a bad reputation among the Western Kingdoms, and for good reason. But Sayden - despite what the Council might say – was not there to make friends. When Enric Artos rejoined the group, he stayed only long enough to hear his words before stalking off without a second glance.



He did not have far to go. As one of the first delegations to arrive, his troops had established their camp at the head of the Alliance. The rich velvet tents supplied to them by the Collective cut an impressive sight, yet seemed garish and vulgar when set against the sheer cliffs which framed them. Between their ordered rows, red-robed battlemages of all ages, genders and races milled about, awaiting the return of their commander. At last, Sayden arrived in their midst. Seeing his arrival, they rose simultaneously and stood at rapt attention, fists clenched and both hands curved over their sternum. Although his face betrayed no emotion, Sayden felt a swell of pride as he gazed over the fruits of his long labours.

“Brothers, sisters!” he cried, spreading his arms, “The time has come to show the world our strength. Our… temporary allies… will perish without our aid, and the Council is always watching. The victory we carve out here will echo throughout all of time! Oramus Eternal!” His heart skipped another beat as every man repeated his last words, a deafening shout of solidarity. He lowered his arms, and his voice took on a serious edge. “I have just received word that the enemy will make their first assault in two hours’ time. Our bodies must be strong, and our minds clear. Meditate and prepare yourselves.” Wordlessly, the mages dropped their hands and returned in silence to their tents, there to rest and reflect. Their success would depend on their iron wills and cool heads.

Leaving his men to their preparations, Sayden veered off and reluctantly made his way towards the Sentinel encampment. In comparison to the neat, ordered rows of the Mages’ tents, their camp more closely resembled a shanty town, all patchwork canvas and sprawling campfires. Soot and grime covered every surface. As he approached, a handful of the mercenaries dragged themselves to their feet, but most continued to lounge around picking their teeth and sharpening their blades. Not for the first time, Sayden cursed the Council for not deigning to send some of the true Sentinels in favour of palming off these troublesome sellswords. But then, he supposed, they did not really care about the outcome of this battle. Despite their half-hearted efforts at peaceful conduct, the Council was still secure in its conviction that the Collective could withstand any assault, and treat with any conqueror.

Those old fools… they were wrong. Alquen’s forces are beyond any of our estimations. Even the Collective will fall if they make it through this pass.

He reached the centre of the camp, and caught the eye of a scrawny mercenary perched on a barrel like a raven. The man rose, nodded, and ducked into the largest and cleanest of the tents. Moments later, the Captain of the Sentinels, Grazos, emerged – a dignified fellow with more than a hint of roguishness, he had been the de-facto leader of the group and so had been granted a command position by the Council. He was by no means a saint, but was at least possessed of a modicum of honour; Sayden graced him with a firm handshake.

“High Magus! How good to see you,” the Captain greeted him, taking care to use his proper title, “and looking so well.” He ruined it.

Sayden fixed him with a steely glare. “Thank you, Captain Grazos. The representative of our alliance has just finished meeting with the commanders of the Alquen host. Their attack will begin in two hours, by his reckoning. I need your men ready in ninety minutes.”

Grazos let out a throaty chuckle, and casually scratched his ear. “Don’t worry, High Magus. We’re all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and we’ll keep your boys alive.” His smile only irritated the mage further. “I await your orders.”

“Very good, Captain,” Sayden replied delicately. “I will send a messenger as soon as our battle plans are finalised.” The men shared a final reluctant handshake, before turning on their respective heels and marching back to their men. As he walked, Sayden could faintly hear the Captain addressing his troops: whatever he was saying, it was resulting in peals of laughter.

Those dogs had better keep it together. Too much is riding on this...

Mind churning, he returned to his men and entered the command tent. Sparsely decorated despite its opulence, it contained little more than a bedroll, a sturdy wooden table and a handful of rough-hewn stools. Slumping down atop one, he allowed himself a moment of contemplation, steeling himself for the trials to come. His muscles ached from the effort of moving back and forth from the front – his success had come at the cost of his health, and his weakness weighed heavily on his mind. Finally, he picked himself up, kissed the medallion which hung around his neck, and got to work.

For the next hour he pored over maps and charts: familiarising himself with the terrain, determining troop positions, and predicting possible angles of attack. The Pass offered excellent cover and foolproof avenues of retreat, and prevented mass movements and overwhelming charges.

An excellent arena in which to make use of battlemagic, at least. We must be thankful for that. Even so… I seriously doubt the Daret commander’s conviction that we will be able to hold indefinitely. The Pass stops the Lion from swallowing us whole, but it’s still big enough to get troops to the line without difficulty, and they can take far greater losses than we...

What they needed was an advantage, and a frisson of excitement shot through him as he realised that his men may very well be that advantage. With his legacy at stake, a decisive action here could make his position in the Collective unassailable. Suddenly reinvigorated, he called his most senior mages inside and discussed in detail the possible ways in which they could turn the tide of battle. When the hour was up, he dismissed them with a nod, and they dispersed to brief the remainder of the company. Gathering his accoutrements, he set out for the Alliance camp. He was pleased to see that even the mercenaries were making good progress.



The commanders had reconvened in an expansive tent situated in the middle of the Alliance encampment. A few others were making their way inside as Sayden arrived; as before, he did not offer them the courtesy of a greeting. An enormous table laden with maps and charts dominated the interior, with a diagram of the pass itself taking centre stage. The mood was sombre. Few of those gathered were unaware of the insurmountable odds stacked against them.

One by one, the commanders rose, spoke their piece, and returned to their seats. At last, it was Sayden’s turn. “Commanders of the Alliance, the Oramus Collective stands ready to assist you,” he intoned, getting the pleasantries out of the way. Now, he switched to the language of war. “I have with me fifty battlemages, along with an equal number of Sentinels assigned to their protection – and theirs alone. My men can be dispersed among your ranks in groups of ten or more, should you require it. We can fulfil many roles. As Alquen’s initial attack is most likely intended to test our strength, it would probably be best for us to avoid overt displays of force; instead, we will take a defensive role, disrupting the terrain to slow the enemy advance and protecting your troops with shields which retard enemy ranged bombardments. It is my understanding that the soldiers of Gilrade and Kulak are more inclined towards offense than defence? Your troops may benefit from our protection.

There is one other possibility I must mention. Although it is a difficult task, working in tandem we should be capable of creating an illusionary wall potent enough to fool the enemy into believing that our forces are far larger than they truly are. If the front lines can keep them at a distance, then we it should be impossible to detect any foul play. The decision about whether to employ trickery is down to you - I leave the option open.”

With a shallow bow, he seated himself, gazing around the room and judging the reactions of the massed commanders. He prayed they could leave their misgivings about the Collective outside the battlefield.




black knight 1234567 -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/1/2014 14:43:10)

“Alquen’s forces are led by a man by the name of Domrius. I have heard some things of this man, but that is a matter for another time. His words seem to imply that the Empire has crushed the southern rebellions. If that is true… We are facing much higher odds than we had anticipated. Domrius has said that his forces will attack in two hours time. Return to your men and begin your preparations. We reconvene in an hour to finalize our plans. I expect you will bring your best strategies.”
So spoke Enric of Daret, the de facto spokesperson of the forces of the alliance. for tensions were high as the last attempt at diplomacy with the Alquen forces ensued. But, it was clear from the start to the Viscount of Gilrade, Garin Fellwalker, that this would only end with the clashing of swords and the splintering of shields.

Calmly he stepped into the foreground, right infront of each and every commander still present, one could spot some slight shine from his silver plated armor, watching his fellow brothers in arms. The initial meeting between all alliance members and commanders was going as expected, exercising only the most basic of formalities for it wasn't the time for pleasantries.
''They demand battle.....there is but one answer we can provide. Should the time come, Gilrade will be there to offer its sword.'' and so he pledged his forces to the cause, all 100 or so capable men and women, once and for all, before turning towards camp. His face showing mixed emotions of determination yet doubt. The Viscount was known for his hardheadedness and utmost resolve, but even he couldn't deny the odds weren't in their favor. This army, this...Dormius, crushed the rebellion like it was nothing. It was a force to be reckoned with.

Gilrade's camp was just slightly to the north of the main alliance forces' camp, a neutral zone if you will, the men could be seen training, sharpening their weapons or taking a rest before the storm that's to come, a certain feeling of uneasiness echoed through the camp, worried whispers, fears that crept just below the surface, but all rose to attention as their leader walked through their ranks. The thing is, Garin never even demanded they stand up, he saw each and every one of his troops as a brother, but they did it out of one thing: sheer respect for their commander.

He stopped infront of his tent, white and blue with the two headed griffon crest of Gilrade on top, just like the rest of the camp, turning to face his men, he begun to openly address them:
''Warriors of Gilrade, it is as we predicted, it will be but a day of blood. I know some of you are scared, you have the right to be. They may outnumber us, their swords may be that much sharper, or their shields that much sturdier, but what they don't have, is our will. Our determination.'' each and every trooper fell to their knees, the fear wiped away from their eyes, instead replaced with the want to fight. ''We will soon be clashing with the enemy, in two hours time. Prepare yourself well'' and thus he left his men to their own to make their preparations, entering his own tent. It was of simple design, a small war table filled with info, notes and correspondence about the current affairs and the state of war, along with maps and markers for tactical planning. Garin proceeded to contemplate their next move, thinking about what ideas and plans he could bring to the table. The forces of Gilrade were known for their unwavering offense, their tactics being to obliterate the enemy with sheer force before they have the chance to react. It was soon that he felt confident enough to leave their encampment, maps and plans in hand, to meet up with the rest of the command.

He made it just in time for the meeting to commence, several representatives of their state having already spoke their mind. First of all, Thanisgard threw around its first few suggestions, their ideas centered around critically harming the enemy in the long run. An interesting plan, although one is doubtful about its chance of success considering the force of the enemy.
''If I may, and while your plan may be technically sound, I have doubts about its chance of success on the battlefield, considering the fortifications the enemy has. However, we could definitely focus on some long range approach, my very own archers can double your offense on that front and even serve as defense should anything go wrong, supporting on ground troops''

He then turned to the High Magus of the Oramus Collective, while known with disdain through out many kingdoms, Gilrade has managed to stay on fairly good grounds with the mages. No doubt, their arcane touch will serve as a great asset in the war. Garin was in favor of the Magus' suggestion, a focus on defense to avoid giving Alquen's forces an advantage later on in the fight.
''That's not necessarily a bad plan. I think if we can draw the enemy forces into our ranks, my forces can take them by surprise and absolutely obliterate them. My forces along with the forces of Kulak can drive them back, that way. But I must say, i'm not in favor of the illusion plan. Simply it seems to risky and a bit too complicated to pull off, as any sufficient confusion during the fight can lead to tactical disaster''.
The Sword of the Voiceless spoke his peace, before taking a seat and waiting for what the other commanders had to say.




TJByrum -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/1/2014 16:57:15)

Forty minutes ago
"Did you get a good look at this mess?" Koros glared at his adviser, Volrun with his grey eyes. He was propped up against a wooden hitching post so as to relive the pain in his lame leg.

"Aye," replied, Volrun. I'd wager our forces total around a thousand men. The kingdom of Daret only brought a handful of men - enough to count actually: only ten."

"That Enric fellow only brought along ten soldiers? He thinks he could hold the pass with ten men?"

"I'd wager they're capable combatants sir. Continuing on, the kingdom of Je brought along over a hundred soldiers: shields, swords, pikes, archers... standard infantry regiment. The Kulak Kingdom brought upwards of two-hundred men, also infantry. Thanisgard brought along a force of three hundred men, all well-trained and some with horses, a potential cavalry unit. Gilrade brought along a varied force no larger than two-hundred, cavalry, a few archers, and some infantry. There's Vorfather, only bringing fifty or so soldiers, archers... swordsmen... horsemen, small, but varied. Finally, there's the magic-user-"

"Magic? Why must the fools bring such a cowardly force into the mix?"

"I'd be a bit more respectful of its potential, sir. The Oramus Collective has been generous enough to send along a force equal in size to our own. I don't know the possibilities they may bring into the battle, so I figure this'll be a learning experience for both of us. Come, let us meet the others at the tent."




Strategy tent
Koros swung his mighty arm to the side, swatting the curtain of the strategy tent and walking inside. Behind him was Volrun who simply held the curtain out of his way. Both figures walked in and sat around the table. A good number of individuals were inside, ready to discuss the strategy. The members of Thanisgard were the first to speak, wanting to disrupt the supply lines of the enemy. But it was Sayden who got Volrun's attention, who suggested a more defensive strategy over an offensive one, to which Volrun agreed with. Garin Fellwaker of Gilrade seemed to also agree Koros stood up from his chair and was about to begin to speak before Volrun intervened by placing his arm across Koros' chest. "Apologies commander, but I think now would be a chance for me to prove my worth as your adviser."

Koros simply nodded, agreeing with Volrun. Volrun just didn't want the ignorance of his commander to ridicule the Varan. "Go ahead, boy, show me what you have."

"Thank you, sir," Volrun replied before beginning his speech. "I agree with Sayden and Garin here: we should remain defensive in this battle. We do not yet know the strengths of the enemy and so we should observe them. Let them come to us, tire themselves out. Rushing in with cavalry will result in severe losees. We should discuss our formation, as it will be key to maintaining a strong defense. We should divide our forces into four groups: cavalry, archers, swordsmen, and pikemen. We should deploy our archers in front, our swordsmen in loose formation behind the archers, our pikemen at both flanks, and our cavalry behind the swordsmen and pikemen; the cavalry will be divided into two groups.

"The archers will loose arrows into the enemy as they approach. Once the opposition closes in our archers will retreat through the swordsmen, who will then form a strong defensive line that will await Alquens' main forces. I'd suggest equipping our swordsmen with shields and heavy armor and a one-handed weapon of their choice. The pikemen on either flank should be armed with pikes, spears - anything to counter cavalry charges. Once Alquens' forces are engaged with our own then our cavalry should round-about our flanks and deliver a crushing cavalry charge into the enemy's rear. Order your men to stand their ground and do not let the cavalry give chase to Alquen's soldiers else you risk them being killed by arrows.

"The Varan can supplement sixty-five soldiers for the swordsmen battalion, they excel in close-combat and form an impenetrable shield wall. Our thirty Unproven will assume position on the flanks, with the pikemen."




Draycos777 -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/1/2014 17:36:28)

Within the meeting tent, Articis sat on the right side of the table overlooking the southern section of the pass. Ytha sat on Articis' right, while Rayna sat on his left. After Sayden, the commander of the Oramus Collective, finished his strategic input, Articis rose from his chair. Ytha and Rayna followed suit as Articis spoke. “The men of Je, one hundred and fifty strong not including Ytha, Rayna or myself, shall support this endeavor against the Alquen Empire's hostile takeover of our lands.”

Pointing to the southern section of the map, Articis mentioned the debris-fulled and hazards landscape. “While I cannot speak for the our commanders, I do know that living near and on this mountain range has trained my men to be able to handle such difficult terrain with relative ease. As the Thanisgard commander and the other Allied forces push through the Alquen lines, Me and my men will use the debris as a natural maze, keeping any detachments from coming around and attacking from behind.” Articis looked up from the map and turned his attention to Enric, standing straight he spoke once more. “The Je kingdom of Je can also provide physiological tactics for use as well. However, these take time to prepare and are most effective at night, so I shall leave their use up to your discretion.”

With his own input now out of the way, Articis and his daughters returned to their respective seats and listened to what the other commanders had to say.




Starstruck -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/3/2014 2:18:00)

Kerra had been doing fine until she opened her mouth.

Despite years of experience using her high, loud voice as a whip, her speech was still clear and dainty and so feminine that she couldn't help but inspire disrespect and resentment in the troops. Her own men could be disciplined through violence. The commanders could only be placated through politics, and she had already lost that one the moment she went from the violent commander of the violent fistfighters to the lady emissary of Kulak. Never mind that Kerra was the farthest thing from a proper young lady that could be found anywhere on Kulak. Never mind that she could hit any one of her so-called "superiors" so hard they'd have to drink their food for months. Her uterus gave her automatic magical powers to inspire "let's not care about your opinions!" and "hush now, the men are talking." Oh, and she could have a child if she wanted to. The part with pain in childbirth sounded fair enough to Kerra. The part with mothering did not.

Women would fight at Gripclaw Pass, and this was known and respected by all. To Kerra, this was the most irritating part of the whole affair; nobody doubted her ability to hit things until they stopped being able to bleed, they doubted specifically her ability to manage troops and make tactical decisions. Small wonder the tiny terror of the island kingdom bound her bust tightly and kept her hair cropped short like a man's, wearing blood red armor and pants (scandalous!). But her voice gave her away.

Every. Time.
"It's so small...I can barely see it." The massive, 6'4" wrecking ball, the largest man in the Kulaki force, squinted warily at the small, circular inscription. "Are you sure this is going to be strong enough?"

"You know as well as I do that strength can come in small packages," retorted Jonah good-naturedly. "Nice big fireball with every missed punch. I just have to be really careful about which way I'm facing!" Slipping the tight leather glove on, he tossed out a jab experimentally, carefully pointing his fist at the wooden training dummy he had set up. A small whoosh of fire wisped from a few inches in front of the furthest extent of the jab, eliciting a hearty guffaw from Benjamin and a snort from Jonah. Even with the strongest haymaker, though, the diminutive fire mage was unable to bring forth more than a puff.

Angrily, he sucked in a deep breath and let a punch fly at the wooden dummy, not even caring that he was several yards away from it. With a roar, a rush of flame engulfed the figure of sticks and straw, starting quite the cackling blaze. Jonah was ecstatic, and Benjamin was happy too to see his friend so pleased.
"Here's what I would propose, if anyone would shut up and listen to me for a minute." Kerra was in a foul mood, and her shrieking soprano overrode the competing voices of the room. "Strike fast, strike first, strike firmly, and then fade away like nothing ever happened. We don't need to see what he has, we need to see how he's going to use it, and the best way to do that is to stop his advance, however temporarily, and make it so he has to throw a trump card just to stop the irritation of our army, if indeed what the man says is true and he has tens of thousands of men on his side. A fast force, probably cavalry, will do this for us, or we could even use a small band of my fighters in a pinch; they're faster than anyone else on foot, or so I'm led to believe."

"This battle can only be won through superior strategy and conservation of resources. Even without the kind of military might he boasts of having, Domrius could easily outlast us simply by virtue of our respective positions. Above all, be wary of what that man says. I'm inclined to think it's total hogwash, myself, but it could be an idle boast of a much more insidious nature, where the flippancy of a few thousand men masks the strength of a far greater force than what could even be expected."




Dragonnightwolf -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/6/2014 22:25:33)

During the Discussions:Trevor listened to each commander in turn. The female of the lot. The hothead spoke with such a voice of loudness that her simple outburst immediately lost a little bit of respect in this seasoned commander's eyes.

Trevor still wanted more men. "Koros and Volrun, You have the support of Thanisgard in this strategy. I believe it to be the wiser course of action."

Trevor motioned Cory away from the delegation table and wrote down a request for more troops and signed it with his name, handing it to his sub-commander.

"Cory." Trevor said in a lower voice. "Take this and attach it to one of the messenger birds. Have it take flight now. Back to the kingdom. We need more troops."

Cory gave a salute and left the tent as Trevor sat back down to listen to finishing proceedings. Time was growing short for all involved.




Kellehendros -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/7/2014 18:31:47)

Domrius had to have known that the Western Kingdoms would not yield the pass to a simple request, but all records agree that he made the request none the less. Sources disagree as to the content of the conversation, its general tone, and who spoke for the Allies. Still, it is clear that no compromise could be reached, and thus the armies prepared for their first engagement.

Most sources concur that the first engagement was directed by Koros “Grey Eagle” Jarn of Aesgir, though credit for the initial deployment lies with his aide, Volrun Valgard. Valgard began with a skirmishing formation, separating out the archers of the diverse force and placing them at the fore of the army. The bulk of the Alliance force was infantry, arranged in three distinct groupings: a main line of diverse, massed infantry from the various kingdoms, and two flanking forces comprised of pike, spear, and polearmed warriors. Behind the infantry, separated into three groups of their own, was the small group of mages available to the Allies. Holding behind the Allied main were the horsemen of Thanisgard.

For Alquen’s part…




The lambeg drums began with half an hour before Domrius’ men were to attack. A deep, throbbing rhythm thundered up the pass from massive drums, a pulsing, hammering noise like an eerie heart. Echoes rolled down the pass, a cacophony of sound that foretold the clamor to come. The soldiers hammered their fists against their shields, adding to the racket.

The chanting started next, as Alquen’s lines folded outward, admitting the sight of…



Crushing the Vendret Rebellion was Domrius’ first major victory. The orders to march upon the Western Kingdoms was not long in coming afterward. Major rebuilding was required in Vendret, rebuilding the emperor was not interested in. He stripped Vendret of men of fighting age, impressing them into service.

The Vendret levies were sullen, unhappy, and a large proportion of Domrius’ vanguard. The calculus was cold. Domrius sent the Vendreti against the Alliance first because he knew that reducing their number was necessary if he was to maintain control of his forces. Had the Vendreti scattered the Allied forces that day, they would have been honored to have the chance to strike the first blow. Getting bloodied by the Alliance also meant that any surviving Vendreti warriors would have reason to hate the Allies. The move was shrewd, with little downside, a classic move by Domrius.

Vendreti fought in light armor: cloth, leather, hide. They favored large wicker shields, and fought with spears and hurled javelins. Those shields were of only moderate protection against weapons of metal, though they could bind and catch a blade, and stopped arrows well enough. The shields were of more use to conceal…




The Vendret warriors advanced through the Alquen forces, leading with their shields, keeping them in a solid line that filled out, shield to shield, stretching across the pass until it was equal in length to the Allied line. A second rank of fighters formed behind the first, lifting their shields and holding them above their heads to create a wicker wall that obscured the mass behind from easy sight. It was an odd strategy, given the two forces were out of range of one another. Stranger still, because beyond those initial pair of ranks, the Vendreti were scattered in clumps and knots, hardly organized.

Adding a high, ululating cry to the chanting of the Alquen regulars, the Vendreti began their advance, shuffling forward behind their shield wall, a loose mass of warriors trailing after the first two ranks of organized fighters. The Vendreti advanced, howling their war cries as the lambegs suddenly ceased. Halting at the extreme edge of bow-range, the warriors of Alquen screamed and shouted their challenges, nerving themselves for the charge across the killing field. Reaching a frenzied crescendo, the mob of Vendreti burst into knots and clots of charging steel. Swift, four-legged death flowed through the disorganized ranks and towards the Alliance line as the Vendreti's wicker wall broke apart to reveal...



Vendreti tactics were simple. They preferred to fight in hit-and-run engagements, ambushing from the woods and fading away into the hills. In stand-up fights they relied on devastating charges supplemented by the ghosthounds.

Imagine a large dog, bred for vicious temperament and size, trained from a young age to attack humans. Vendret’s ghosthounds were a point of pride for the small enclave, and all the more terrifying for their utter silence. The dogs vocal organs were removed when they were pups, rendering the canines worthless for guard duty. They were meant for war, for raiding, for killing, nothing more.




In a matter of moments the Allied plan was in danger of failing. Rather than a mass of marching men that could be picked apart and bled by the archers, or even a charging line that could be thinned, the Allied archers were now faced with an oncoming wave of fleet, four-legged muscle. Bounding forward, the weirdly silent ghosthounds pulled away from the charging Vendreti, able to cover what was meant to be the killing ground in only a fraction of the time their two-legged masters could.

The archers had been prepared to stand in the face of advancing men and draw back in good order, but with claw and fang advancing with alarming speed, the archer’s wavered, uncertain whether to stand and fire on the small, faster forms, attack the men charging after the canines, or flee behind the relative safety of the Allied infantry.




TJByrum -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/7/2014 21:12:03)

Everything was set and ready to go. A force of archers in the forefront of the alliance's army prepared to loose their arrows upon whatever enemy came marching across the horizon. Behind the archers stood the bulk of the force, a conglomeration of armored swordsmen. On each flank stood a force of pikemen, ready to ward of any cavalry charges. Behind them all were reserve cavalry and the mages of the Oramus Collective.

There they were! The soldiers cocked their heads in different directions, trying to catch a glimpse of their enemy to come. Their supreme commander, Koros Jarn, stood in place, firm as ever, supporting himself with a large tower shield. By the commander's side was his adviser and bodyguard, the great Volrun Valgard: mastermind of the strategy. The Varan soldiers who stood behind them maintained the center of the formation, shouting warcries and banging their swords upon their shields. "It is a good day to be a Vara," Koros exclaimed in his ignorant pride.

"Be at ease, my lord," replied, Volrun, "this battle serves only to learn of our enemy. We are not here seeking death, remember that."

"You be at ease, Valgard. These troops are under my command, don't forget that." Volrun did not bother replying to his stubborn leader. Volrun knew the Grey Eagle was proud: leading hundreds of soldiers from different kingoms.




The first thing Koros spotted were clumps of disorganized footmen: lightly armored, shielded warriors advancing to their position. Easy targets for their archers who were preparing to fire. "Ready arrows!" The captain in charge of the archers yelled out in a shrill voice. By then the footmen began to advance, closer and closer... As soon as a portion of them were in range the captain gave out the order: "Loose!" A volley of arrows were sent flying towards the mob of footmen, ready to strike down the unlucky sods. But that's when Koros spotted the counter: packs of hounds charging through the footmen's ranks!

"Dogs?" Koros looked over at Volrun and grinned. "Let us see how these 'dogs' compare to the dire wolves of Asgeir! Signal our archers to retreat behind the lines, prepare our forces!"

Acknowledging his commander's orders, Volrun yelled aove the noise to the captain: "Archers, retreat!" A single volley of arrows, thought Volrun, not what I was expecting. The archers quickly snatched up their band of arrows, turned around and filed to the back of the lines. "Shield wall," yelled Volrun over the noise, once again. The Varan were quick to respond, fitting their shields into a tight wall, ready to meet the oncoming enemy. Both Volrun and Koros stepped back into the wall as well, offering their own shields as part of the formation.

"Roo, roo, roo!" The Varan soldiers mocked the charging hounds as the line began to come together. How many times did the Huskarls wrestle with the wolves of Asgeir? How many of those Huskarls wore the fur of the dire wolves around their necks? Dogs! This was nothing new to them!

"Steady..." Volrun re-assured his troops. Would the line hold out against these hounds? "Steady..." The footmen advanced, but it would be the hounds who would make it to the line first...




As soon as the hounds made it to the line they launched themselves into the line! The Varan were already prepared for such an attack, bashing the leaping hounds with their shields and slashing down at them with their swords. As blood spurted into their faces they grinned with satisfaction. Yelling and cheering, the well-trained Varan held their position and continued to hack away at the horde of vicious dogs before them. It would not be long, however, before the footmen made it to their position. Fortunately, the archers should have been at the rear by then and could fire off arrows into the enemy's flank.




Zephyrial -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/7/2014 23:05:38)

Within an hour, a plan had been decided and a supreme commander named. The majority of those present had agreed with the need for a defensive strategy, although some had been eager to advocate more aggressive tactics. Sayden resolved to keep a close eye on them. Events moved rapidly apace, and before long their troops had been organised according to the Asgeir strategist's deliberations. The atmosphere grew tense on the front lines as the Alquen forces came into view. As expected, Domrius was fielding only a token force, designed to test their strength - yet even so their numbers nearly matched those of the Alliance army. No man there could have been unaware of the gravity of the situation. Thankfully, the main body of Alquen regulars stopped just out of bow range, jeering and taunting as they released the first wave of soldiers into the killing fields.

Light infantry, hmm? Looks to be about five hundred. Shouldn't be too much of a prob... what is that?

At a stroke, the Alquen empire played its first trump card. Sayden could only watch as the horde of dogs crossed the remaining ground in what seemed like only a few bounds, before crashing into the front lines in an orgy of teeth and claws. Any other force might have had a lot of trouble adapting to fighting beasts rather than men, but the Varan swordsmen appeared, on the contrary, to adore it. Roaring with delight, they hacked away at the furred menace, holding back the tide.

Sayden nodded in satisfaction, and instead turned his eyes towards the approaching company of light infantry. Ill-equipped and disorganised, they were nonetheless great in number, and each man held an expansive shield that would make it difficult to whittle down their ranks with arrows. Should they reach the front lines at full strength, it was quite possible that they could overpower at least some of those tired from fending off the dogs. However, Alquen had underestimated its enemy. Dropping his head, Sayden prepared the mental link which would enable he and his men to share information instantaneously and seamlessly. Fifty one sets of eyes turned opaque, and Sayden's voice pierced the thought of each and every man in his company.


All divisions. Target the light infantry. Aim for wide coverage.

He looked to the north and narrowed his eyes.

Rain down fire.


In unison, every mage raised his arms to the sky, and began to mumble words of power. To a magic-sensitive like himself, it was an incredible spectacle. From a hundred hands, tendrils of magic in every colour of the rainbow arced and twisted upwards, coalescing into a pulsing crimson orb of sheer magical potential. The power was so intense that even the most ungifted soldier could sense it - the air above their heads shimmered as if a mirage, and a dull hum belied the energy contained within. For approximately forty seconds, they gathered their strength, as the front lines continued to beat down the swarm of hounds. At last, critical mass was attained; the air was thick with magic, and the spell was ripe. Sayden stretched out his hand, and with a cry of ecstasy the mages channeled their power upwards and outwards.

The sky above the Alquen infantry erupted as if the Gods themselves desired their destruction. With an ominous rumble of thunder, tiny fireballs about the size of conkers began to fall from the sky - slowly at first, but soon in a torrential deluge. Shouting alarm, the warriors raised their shields above their heads to protect themselves, only for the fireballs to quickly consume the flammable wicker. All through the ranks, they were tossed aside, placing their bearers at the mercy of the Alliance's arrows. Roars of agony echoed through the pass as exposed skin was seared and scarred. With practiced motions and unyielding focus, the mages adjusted the direction of the rain, taking care to cover each and every man they could. The spell lasted a mere half-minute and caused only a handful of casualties, but by the end the Alquen infantry's boldness had been thoroughly tempered, and the smoking ruins of their shields littered the ground.



Through the mental link, Sayden congratulated his men wholeheartedly. The spell had taken its toll, and they slumped to the floor or rubbed their limbs in varying degrees of fatigue, as the Sentinels passed them waterskins and handfuls of nuts and berries. Leaving them to catch their breath and recover their strength, he turned back towards the battlefield. With the dogs held at bay and the enemy infantry weakened, the battle looked to be turning in the Alliance's favour. The rest would be up to the archers and the swordsmen. In the event of any ranged bombardment, his men could establish a shield before the front lines to protect the vulnerable swordsmen - but otherwise, his work was done.




Draycos777 -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/8/2014 15:51:10)

Articis stood in position with his men, on the right flank of the allied forces formation. Turning to see Koros, who was named the supreme commander, inflate with pride. Even over here on the right flank, way from the central infantry line, Articis could hear Koros howl something about good Varas or another. Laughing to himself, Articis looked back to see the first formation of the enemy. Or at least he thought he did. The enemy was coming into view already scattered across what would become the battlefield for Gripclaw Pass.

“Ugh, this reeks of guerrilla tactics. I doubt we'll ever hear the end of this from Kerra.”

However it was not what Articis saw that mattered to him, but what he hear; or didn't hear. “Beasts. I can hear the rhythm of their footsteps, the same as any beast in the mountains, yet I cant hear a single howl for blood.” Articis eyes, however, soon caught up with his ears as the could see the hoards of ghosthounds pouring out from the breaks in the enemy's formation. Leaning to the left where his scythe, Kuroyasha stood, Articis took in the view. “Doggies huh? These ones are quite the lookers too. Does Domruis have an overpopulation problem back at home? Surely he knows that with Asgeir, Kulak and Je, beasts are no threat to the Allied forces.”

Grinning he stood up straight and brought his scythe over to his right side. “Well, this first part will be easy enough. Beast are beasts after all, no mater how much you breed them.” Lifting his scythe in the air with his right arm, Articis' grin took a more vicious appearance as he placed Kuroyasha on his shoulder. “All predators react to their instincts no matter what, when face to face with a stronger predator.”

Articis heard the sounds of steel against tooth and claw as the congregation of hounds meet with the Allied forces main infantry line. The number of hounds headed towards the side flanks was smaller then at the central, but it was more then enough to surround a careless soldier. The yells of the Varan soldiers as the first kills of the battle were made resonated in Articis ears and as the first hounds charging toward the right flank began to close the gap, Articis let the intense bloodlust he kept hidden loose across the battlefield.

The split-second hesitation the dogs showed, as they were hit by the wave of killing intent, was all Articis needed. In the next second Articis spun around, catching them in a circular slash of death and enjoying the feeling of Kuroyasha's blades passing through the bodies of the ghosthounds. The bodies of the first few hounds fell to the ground replaced by another set, which were greeted by Articis' smiling face. “I think it's time I showed the Allied troops why the rumors about our people exist!”




Because her unit was made up solely of swordsmen infantry, Rayna ending up being placed in the central infantry line away from Papa and next to all of the loud Varan soldiers. She disliked that they insisted on hollering about the enemy's broken formation. Although Rayna had to admit, even for an enemy with numbers on their side, their battle formation was horrid to look at. Rayna's ears suddenly pricked from what she thought was the footsteps of a stampeding herd. A second later and the sounds vanished beneath the snap of bowstrings as the first rain of arrows were set loose. Did her mind get feed-up with all the noise and she stated hearing things? Or was her ears telling her something? Only minutes later did Rayna understand what her ears where saying. Thundering through the holes in the enemy's broken formation were the ugliest beasts that Rayna had ever seen.

“W-what are those things?” Even as Rayna spoke this question to no one in particular, a new order was given out as the dog-related creatures continued to charge forward.

"Archers, retreat!" Rayna heard the sub-commander Volrun Valgard yell, the next order soon following suit. "Shield wall,"

The Varans, seemingly eager for the battle to begin, where the quickest to respond. Making a barrier line with their shield, the Varan soldiers mocked the creatures waiting for them lunged so that they could bash the creatures with their shields. As the last of the archers took cover behind the Allied forces' line, Rayna caught a small glimpse of Ytha.

“Its started.” Rayna whispered, placing her hands on the hilts of her twin sabers. In the next few seconds the beast arrived at the Allies infantry line and lunged. The sound of bones fracturing and breaking, as metal connected to flesh. The yells of the Varan soldiers grew even louder as the first kills of battle were made. Sensing something amiss, Rayna looked to the sky and saw a sight that she would never forget as long as she lived. The sky twisted and shimmered, and in the next minute rained balls of fire down upon the enemy ranks. The rain of fire last for only about a minute or so, but it did it's job wonderfully. Rayna stared in amazement at the burning shields, tossed away by the enemies. “So that is what they call magic?”

Just then a second trick was triggered by the Allied forces. A wave of killing intent washed over Rayna's area causing some of the beast to turn their heads to the source, giving the Varan soldiers an easy time at dispatching them. Rayna closed her eyes to the aura of bloodlust. It meant that its time for her to join in the fighting now that Papa started as well. Slowly drawing her sabers from their sheathes, Rayna spoke in her native tongue.

“Solano fulen e nene boristati; Luno fulen e danmati. Oken hidewequi se yim palti.” Rasing her sabers out in front of her, Rayna pointed the right one to the charging beasts. Giving off a similar, but much smaller, wave of killing intent Rayna shouted out the last of her battle chime. “Histatis vinmist! Yimgaesti!”

The soldiers of Je cheered as Rayna's chime finished, eager to prove their own worth as she directed the shield and swordsmen in her unit to fill any holes in the Allies barrier line.




Dragonnightwolf -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/8/2014 23:41:31)

At the Standing Hour:

"Stand ready!" Trevor called out. All things must come to an end and so too, did the delegations of tactical strategy. Harry was positioned with the archers.
Cory and Thomas were positioned in the Left and Right locations of the Calvary. Trevor held ground in the very center gazing across the pass on horseback.

"Archers ready!" Harry called out. "Hold positions!" Trevor said aloud. "Hold positions!" Cory and Thomas repeated to the men in their care.

Drum's echoed into the pass. Other commanders had taken up ranks where it was needed. The ground archer's at the front. The riding archer's too had knocked arrows and were preparing to fire into the ranks of the enemy.

The front lines consisting of the swordsmen just beyond the archers were prepared and eager for battle. The enemy sent out a bizarre group first. What looked like brawlers. Light-weight armor, some formations of shielding. But they stopped at just the very edge of the foray where arrows could reach.

"What are they waiting for?" Trevor asked himself softly. He needed wait very little. "What in the names of my ancestors?"

Large beasts came at a gallop of their own. Moving swiftly. After all four legs were better then two. Trevor had seen beasts before, dogs, wild boars, wolves, coyotes. But these. These were something else entirely.

"Archers retreat!" The frontline had called back the arrows. Trevor could see now the advancement of the beasts, where their path was taking them and how soon they'd be at the Thanisgard lines.

"Formation line Defense!" Trevor yelled out glancing over towards Cory. The ghost hounds which had gotten back this far were heading towards his location. "Cory! Defensive play Jayhawke!"

That was a formation line attack that Thanisgard had practiced often enough against faster foes.

Harry: "Archer's" Harry saw fire rain down from the skies and turned to see where it came from. Were they being attacked from behind?
But no. It was the mages of the order that had sent the volley.

"Fire at the enemy lines on my signal! Hold formation."

Cory: "Cory! Defensive play Jayhawke!" Trevor had yelled to him. Cory gave Trevor a quick nod and pulled his sword out of the sheath. One of the first Ghostly hounds to come up had spooked the warhorse Cory was riding and it bucked in surprise. "Steady girl, steady!" Cory coaxed the horse as he swung his sword downwards just missing the dog by an inch. "Crap!" He yelled out in pain when it grasped at his leg, biting and pulling. The formation line held and one of the fellow comrades cut off the head of the beast.

Cory winced despite the armor he wore it felt as if that had bent the armor on his leg or something.

The battle commenced and those other few dogs on their side were quickly dispatched either by the horses kicking out, or swords swinging.

Trevor: Trevor didn't see Cory get injured because he was looking over in Thomas's direction to give an order. "Formation. Calvary. Prepare to advance. Och na!"

As soon as the enemy got within distance, Trevor had just given the order for Flanking positions. Where both sides of the calvary of 200 men split up 100 left 100 right, flank the enemy ranks and tear them from behind.




black knight 1234567 -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/18/2014 10:54:07)

There was nothing quite like the moments right before battle. Should your sword fail you, should your shield splinter, and worst of all, should your willpower be broken, it will only be met with death, as every action you make could be the difference between a sword through your chest and living for just one more moment. There is only one reaction to this, and that is fear. But today, Garin and his forces stood as an example, an example that the fear can be overcome, confident, radiating pride as they stood between the ranks.

It didn't take long after the war meeting with various Alliance commanders for them to establish a strategy. A defensive play, made to ensure no big sacrifices will be made on the Alliance' side while trying to get in as much damage against Domrius' forces, fine tuned by the high commander, Koros.
''I hope his roars of pride are a little more than empty boasts'' he mumbles to himself, looking back over his shoulder at his hidden troops. Garin's men were situated on the sides of the battlefield, hidden in between, behind and above the natural environment and rock formations, waiting to spring a trap against incoming Alquen forces if they cut in deep. However not so well hidden were the archers, who Garin was currently in line with, directing them on the first sign of enemy appearance. It didn't take long for the short lived sense of calamity, as the foot soldiers approached. Light leather, disorganized formations, almost as if Domrius was intentionally mocking their forces.

And the Viscount was hellbent on showing him how wrong he was. With his swords in hand, each embedded with Gilrade's crest at the hilt, he raised his left up, signalling the archers to prepare.
''Ready!'' the footmen advanced, closer and closer, other commanders preparing their very own archers to do the same...
''Wait for it, wait for it....'' and that was when he heard one of of Koros' captains yell out of the command to unleash hell upon the troops.
''FIRE!'' his voice heavy with intent, but stern and composed, as arrows flew right behind him, a sight to be seen as each disjointed volley soon joined together to make one, Garin almost let a small chuckle at the sight, almost as if it was symbolism for the predicament that is the alliance.

But that would be too simple. For the footmen only served as a mask for Domrius' real weapon, hounds. Packs of dogs ran straight inbetween the troops, rushing them at incredible speed, they had to act. And fast.
''Sound the retreat'', he spoke. The archers immediately taking note, as they each shouted for their respective lines to go back in their formation vacating the lines as the hounds pushed and pushed, the Varas were doing a good job of holding them back mind you, as they roared in victory over each slaying, but the force was simply overwhelming.

And it wasn't long till Garin had his experience with one. The large beast lunged at the commander, time almost seemed to slow down for a second as he instinctively recoiled, taking a cross armed position, and within split second the beast's razor sharp teeth only inches away from his face, but he had teeth of his own. For he countered the hound with the edges of his swords, its blood colored the blade red as Garin looked down to be faced with another charger, his warrior instincts taking over with a vertical slash with his right, cutting the beast in half. He took a moment to stare down upon his kills, but it was no time to contemplate, for those were a few of the hordes that faced them today.

Slowly he made his way back through the battlefield, slashing and hacking at the hounds, utilizing elegant, accurate thrusts and slashes to incapacitate them, and soon he was surrounded by over 6 dead dogs. He sheathed back his blades as he ran to his men, cutting through the swordsmen till he made it to the sides, many of them let out a sigh of relief when they saw their commander, only this time his armor was covered in red rather than shining silver.

''How bad is it, m'lord?'' one of his own personal body guards asked, a question no doubt echoed by many within his troops.
''Nothing we can't handle. Lightly armed infantrymen with hounds to back them up. What matters is we stick to our positions, and wait for our turn to strike. This is not battle won by sheer strength along, its a battle of tactics, for this isn't Domrius' true strength, merely a test''.
And now it was just a matter of time.




Kellehendros -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/19/2014 19:08:04)

The Vendreti surged forward, a disorganized mass of howling humanity, accompanied by their silent dogs. Their charge was not overly affected by the single volley launched by the alliance’s archers. Men and dogs fell, but there were more than enough to replace them. Sustained fire blunted charges, a single flight of arrows only stung the attackers, tempering resolve with bloodlust and thirst for vengeance.

The ghosthounds bounded into fray with silent snarls, bowling into men and leaping for throats. For the most part, the Alliance lines held. Shields and weapons met the canine cascade, breaking it like rocks in a stream, though at points along the line men went down under flashing jaws. The line wavered for a moment, human discipline pitted against animal savagery, and then the Vendreti arrived in a tide of howling bloodlust.

Alquen's warriors slammed into the Alliance's line with a clangor of metal, spear and shield and sword meeting in a deafening clash as the sheer weight of mass from the charge drove Allied line backwards a half-step. Shields met spears, and the Vendreti piled in, thrusting and jabbing, seeking a weakness in the formation. Behind the first several ranks, the Vendreti took hopping leaps, lurching forward to send javelins flying overhead at the back ranks of Allied fighters.

And then the sky wept fire.

Warriors screamed and writhed, the Oramus Collective’s fiery assault tearing apart the back ranks, melting the charge’s support. The Alquen advance stuttered, grinding the a halt, though a few ghosthounds burst through the ranks and charged the cavalry reserve. A stand up fight did not favor the Vendreti, for a variety of reasons, not least of which was their lack of armor or disciplined organization. The Allied forces pushed back, pike blocks turning and pushing inward on the mass of enemy units while the cavalry wings swept around to attack the enemy’s rear.

The Vendreti surged back, contracting away from the pikes and forcing themselves harder against the Allied line, searching for a weak point at which to break through. They found it in the form of the Kulaki regiment. As fierce as the hand-to-hand fighters of the remote island nation were, they found themselves disadvantaged by the greater reach afforded by the spears of their opponents. The Kulaki were forced backwards as the Vendreti advanced, pushing the Allied line back at that point, forming a bulge in the line that threatened to rupture, unleashing Alquen’s forces into the tender underside of the Allied forces, the less armored archers and casters.

In the midst of the heaving press of bodies and flashing weapons, Enric ran a hand over his bald head, unaware of the blood smearing over it from his gauntlet. His eyes scanned the field as he took several steps backwards, his heavily armored men hacking away at the lightly armored Alquen warriors. Enric blinked, green eyes going wide as he surveyed the line and recognized the peril. Daret’s commander grabbed the nearest soldier, pointing at the expanding bulge in the Allied line. “Find Koros, tell him they’re pushing through. We’ll hold them for now. The line must have reinforcement!” He shoved the soldier away roughly, waving his sword over his head. “To me men, to me! Hold the line!”




TJByrum -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/19/2014 20:31:29)

The Varan stood firm against the assault of ghosthounds that crashed into their shields. Bash and jab, bash and jab, bash and jab! A few of the Varan warriors failed to keep pace and was forced to wrestle with the hound on the ground, the Ki'gar around their neck offering them slight protection. Volrun looked up from his dirty work t observe the distance of the Vendreti soldiers. Closer... closer... closer they came, it'd be only a few moments...

The Allied line tensed up but held steady as the Vendreti finally clashed into their wall of men, albeit being pushed back a half-step. Both sides pushed and shoved, stabbed and jabbed, hoping to break through their opponent's line. The Vendreti, however, were not successful. When the Oramus Collective's mages lit up the sky with spectacular power, Volrun could sense a shift of morale amongst his enemies. But that didn't stop the Vendreti. Once more they pushed into the line, only this time they were successful. The Kulaki warriors broke apart and the Vendreti forced their way in.

"Out of my way! Out of my way!" The powerful Varan general pushed by his Thanes to get into the fray of conflict. He wielded his great battleaxe in both hands, let out a tremendous yell and began swinging the axe at his opponents, cleaving through whoever was foolish enough to get in his way. His Thanes stood close by, keeping watch over their commander in case he fell.

Fortunately for the Alliance, the cavalry were already making their way around the Vendreti. A direct cavalry charge from the rear should cause panic to spread throughout the Vendreti regiment.

"General Koros! General Koros, sir!" A soldier scampered his way towards the front of the battle line, yelling at the Varan commander. Koros did not hear the man - or rather he refused to hear the man, steady swinging his axe side by side to keep the opposition at bay. Volrun turned to see what was the matter and made his way to the soldier as another Varan Huskarl replaced his spot in the shield wall.

"What is it, soldier?"

"The line... the Kulaki... they've broken, they need reinforcement," the soldier finally stammered out.

"Understood soldier, now report back to your post, I'll take it from here." The soldier nodded his head and ran off, back to Enric. "Koros, I'm heading for the flank, we need to reinforce the line!" Koros simply bellowed and howled as he fought on, leaving Volrun to shake his head in annoyance.

It took a few minutes but Volrun finally managed to shove his way to the pikemen. There at the front of the lines were the Unproven - armed with their pikes and small shields. Aesa was easy to spot considering her Ki'gar bore a blue color with purple and gold decorations. "Volrun!" The woman yelled but Volrun could not quite tell if it was excitement or confusion."

"Break rank, Aesa," Volrun began, "the Vendreti are pushing through the line and I need our idle troops to pull back and reinforce the Kulaki soldiers, now go!"

"Aye, master!" Aesa, although her rank did not qualify her, turned around and raised her pike. "Fall back, fall back, reinforce the line!" The Varan were quick to obey their comrade and the other pikemen followed in suit. Perhaps these idle troops would be enough to counter the growing bulge. Volrun, once again, pushed his way through the thick of battle, into the fray of conflict and directly engaged the Vendreti at the bulge.




Dragonnightwolf -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/20/2014 21:08:02)

The Battle Lines Drawn: Trevor The ride out had been fairly easy, dogs sprang up and were cut down as quickly as they appeared. The Thanisgard calvary had experience in dealing with 4-legged creatures before. Trevor got his first taste of beast when it rose up out of nowhere from his left front flank. He swung his sword expertly and cut off an ear. He followed that turning the sword upside down and plunging it into the creatures skull. The sickening stench of blood spattered onto his face and the sound of a sword pulling free and a crunching of the body beneath hooves told the story.

"On my signal. Och na. Prepare to charge!"

Brilliant balls of fire came raining down on the back lines. The calvary horses whinnied a war protest but held ground. Trevor saw the back lines. He saw too quickly the trouble that was progressing there.

"Thomas." Trevor yelled over gazing at his sub commander. "Take a regiment of 20. Support the lines. Over there!" Trevor pointed his blood stained sword to the line area of weakness. "Go. Before we lose valuable archer's and mages."

"Cory. On my signal!"

Battle Lines Drawn: Thomas These beasts came like a tide of the oceans. Silent but deadly. Men under his care were doing their job. Taking down the opposition with expert skill. Blades swung, heads rolled. The cries of the chargers swinging spears had reach that was true, but so too did the calvary and they were coming from behind. Explosions fell upon the field of battle with the garrison of fire sent by the mages. It succeeded in burning flesh and weakening the enemy's back flanks.
"Thomas." He heard his name called and turned to look at Trevor. "Take a regiment of 20. Support the lines. Over there!" Thomas looked to where the sword was pointing. His eyes widened in surprise. How had the enemy broken the lines? Of course. Those damned hand to hand fighters. "Go. Before we lose valuable archer's and mages."

Thomas cursed under his breath. "You men, come with me!" He called out pointing to his right side. Those in his charge surged as 40, he called 20 back to Trevor's command and took 20 with him.

The Calvary of 20 broke off from the main lines at a full run heading for the breached section as quickly as they could. The question remained. Could they get there in enough time?

Battle Lines Drawn: Cory Cory was still suffering irritation from that bite and the quiet beasts were going down left and right. Dying without much sound. Men cried out in battle. Lines had been drawn and blood had been spilled. Cory saw Trevor giving some order over to Thomas. The sub-commander turned his attention back to what he was doing, blocking a spear attack and sending the man to his death with a sharp kick which sent the man falling down. The horse finished the job. A satisfying crunch sounded as the mans head was pretty much gone.

"Cory on my signal." The sub commander nodded acknowledgement and slayed another beast that came too close for comfort.

Battle Lines Drawn: Phase 2: Blood in the pass: Trevor "Charge!" The call went out and the calvary charged the back flanks taking out as many of the remaining rear defenses as they could. Shields swung to block attacks. Swords swung for hearts, heads, arms and throats.

Battle Lines Drawn: Phase 2: Blood in the pass: Cory The call had been made. Cory made a movement with his sword and the Calvary on his end charged the enemy's rear flanking lines. Attacking together to take down as many as they could. Sounds of metal on metal and horses and bones breaking and cries of pain and death rang out.

Battle Lines Drawn: Central back position: Harry "Archers fi-." Harry cut off the order quickly because a Javelin came flying right at his head. He ducked down just in time to avoid it and yelled "Shields!" The line swung up shields and the sounds of Javelin meeting shields sounded out in the line. "Archers return fi-" Harry was again cut off, but this time the threat was more immediate. The hand to hand fighters had broken rank. The enemy was too close. The lines would fall if the foot archers and the mages weren't saved.

He spotted Thomas riding to reinforce the line and Harry yelled to his 99 men (himself making 100) "Defensive Line. Arc Tarium!" (A command which meant help the mages onto horseback since the war horses could carry 2 passengers and a regiment of mounted archer's would protect the foot archer's from doom. A regiment of 30 was dispatched to help the foot archers. The remainder went riding to aid the mages.

Harry rode over to the commander of the mages and offered down his hand. "Come. He can carry you and I together safely." This was a risk. Saving mages meant that Harry's men wouldn't be able to combat the incoming enemy. That's why the thirty going to aid the archer's on foot, were ordered to fire upon the enemy from horseback. And should they get too close, the archer's still had close-range weapons with which to use.

70 including Harry offered a helping hand to the mage-lines. They couldn't afford to lose the mages. Even if the archer's suffered a bit, Mages were a tiny bit more valuable because of spells and powers. The 30 that rode to assist the archer's stood in a formation that allowed just enough room for archer's to run behind and then the 30 would close ranks. They were already notching arrows and aiming carefully to take out the enemy while avoiding allies.





Draycos777 -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/22/2014 18:55:30)

Ytha let out a sigh. Since the order to retreat, the only thing she as been able to do is watch the front lines of both armies bash and slam into one another. It was times like these that Ytha wished she wasn't the only one in the family with archer units. Ytha had long since forgotten how many times she had scanned the lines, but that was partially because she wasn't very interested in it to begin with. However, on this scan Ytha's eyes widened when her mind registered what she saw. The Kulaki army was breaking under the last push.

This wasn't good. If the Vendreti are able to get past the line, then its a straight shot to the mages and archers. As much as Ytha wanted to do something she couldn't, not while she had her men to protect. Ytha looked to see what action the supreme commander would take. To her dismay he appeared to be ignoring the messenger sent by Enric and kept on fighting. It wasn't until his second-in-command spotted the soldier that he was able to deliver his message.

"Tineho" Ytha shook her head in disbelief.

She wasn't the only one who spotted the crack in the Allied forces line though; fortunately calvary horses coming from the Thanisgard ranks were headed to the archers' positions. This meant that Ytha did have the chance to do something to help.

Signaling the hidden weapon users in her unit to prepare for combat, Ytha addressed her archers. "Stay here with the foreign archers, the calvary that is coming this way is likely here to help protect the archers from harms way as we'll be an important part of the upcoming strategies. Stick with those calvary units as soon as they arrive. I'll help reinforce the Kulaki line until the Varan and Thanisgard reinforcements can reach them." Before any words could have been spoken in return, Ytha and her hidden weapon users were gone, racing towards the Kulaki line.

As she got closer to the battle, Ytha reached into a pocket in her vest and pulled out darts with her right hand. With a flick of the wrist every member of her unit let four darts fly through the air with deadly accuracy. A second later and, one... two... three... four, bodies fell with a thump to the ground in unison. Breathing a little heavier then normal due to the extra attention placed toward reaching the lines Ytha, turned to face the Vendreti soldiers, whose spears were turned to piercing the Kulaki, and filled both hands with darts.

"I can not allow you to break this line." Ytha brought her arms up, ready to throw her darts again. "So if you'd be so kind as to fall over and die, that would be a great help."




Kellehendros -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (11/23/2014 13:01:41)

***Due to technological complications, what follows is Arthur's post, which I am making on his behalf.***

The Vorfatherian General and his troops were late to join the battle and so were hard-pressed to make up for lost time and opportunities. As the battlefield came into view, a most terrifying sight met the General's eyes, but one that he was not new to owing to his many battles in the past.

Hellfire rained from the skies even as the men beneath it clashed against each other with all they had. A multitude of sounds greeted Reynard's ears and only sought to heighten his immense confusion. Steel clashed with steel, fires crackled across the fields and dogs snapped, jaws moving in weirdly silent barks.

"Sir..." Trey Sverfost turned to address his General but stopped short when a gauntlet-ed hand raised itself.

"What madness..." Reynard started. "... Is this...?"

Trey could see the look of terror starting to cloud his General's face and immediately pushing his hand aside, shook Reynard by his shoulder in his bid to bring him back to his senses.

"Focus, Rey...!!!" Trey screamed at the other man while casting aside a few glances at the Vorfatherian troops standing by for their General's orders, shifting and scuffling uncomfortably.

Shortly, Reynard returned to his senses and blinked a number of times. He then turned to look at his second-in-command-his face burning with determination-and then turned to see his forces behind him.

"Alright then." He closed his eyes for a few moments before opening them again, back to his old self.

"Trey, gather all the swordsmen but my guard and approach the line. I leave it to you to assess the situation there but let me know what you gather as soon as you can. Take a scout with you. I'll lead the archers to the flanks and have them standby for sometime while I gather what is the current state of this battle. The rest of the forces will approach the back of the bulk and wait there. They are to make absolutely no move until and unless commanded by me. I see no horsemen engaging in battle as of yet. Now go...!!"

"Yes sir...!!!" There was a smile on Trey's face as he gathered the swordsmen and with a wave of his hand, made off for the line that seemed to be breaking.

Reynard rallied the archers to him and showing an open palm to his horsemen and healers, rushed off for the right flank.

Hounds for gods' sake, Reynard thought as he dashed ahead of his men.

All of a sudden, he bumped into a soldier and grabbed him by his forearm. "Man, who's your General and where might I find him amongst all this chaos...?"


This battle had just started.




black knight 1234567 -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (12/6/2014 9:37:16)

There was hope. As the forces of Alquen and the Alliance clashed at the bloodsoaked fields of Gripclaw Pass, for a moment the Varan were doing a great job at holding back the opposing force, with Domrius' hounds not being quite as effective as expected, Garin had hoped that maybe he won't have to rush into battle this time.
But alas, such hopes were quickly shattered. The Vendreti burst through the lines of the Kulaki, creating an opening to shatter the formation of the Alliance and potentially win the fight for their own. The allied forces were quick to react, the cavalry of Thanisgard rushed to the aid of the Kulaki, while the Varan rushed to reinforce the line.

''They've broken the line'' said Garin, their original plan relied on the allied power of both the Kulaki and Gilrade to take the enemy with sheer offense, but the Kulaki have been weakened.
Tightening the grip around his swords as he signaled his men to come closer, getting a larger view of the battlefield one could see the Vendreti cutting straight through Kulaki lines.
''The minute they get close, we take them by surprise.'' now it wasn't just the Viscount with his hands on his swords, his entire squad was ready to fight, unsheathing their blades, And a fight they shall getas the Vendreti were right below them.

''FOR GILRADE!'' that was the last thing the Vendreti below heard, for the swordsmen of Gilrade soared through the sky with their blades like an eagle's wings, lunging on the unsuspecting enemy below them.
Fellwalker was the first to spill blood, his blade landing straight into the heart of an enemy soldier as he lay down on the ground, his face one of shock, no doubt echoed by his comrades who didn't predict death from above. The commander of Gilrade rose to his feet, as three Vendreti who escaped the initial lunge rushed at him in a barbaric haze, he dodged their slashes and thrusts, before his blade found the enemies neck, but even the sight of their own comrade decapitated would not stop them. They continued their assault, Garin using their anger to his advantage as he used he used his swords to block their attacks, before using his swords to throw one of them off balance, grabbing the soldier by the neck, he used the haze of battle to his advantage as the third and final Vendreti thrust his swords into the human shield, the temporary moment of shock was just the opportunity needed, as Garin's blade pierced straight through his heart.

His men split into small groups on the battlefield, each no more than 3 men, carving into separate facets of the attacking force, they played the dance of death with the Vendreti, the chaotic and barbaric fighting style of the Vendreti was no match for the quickness of Gilrade, the unexpected attack from behind gave the Kulaki some lee way to try and fight back, turning the tide to their favor, the swordsmen having no intention of letting the lines break.




Kellehendros -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (12/7/2014 17:51:59)

The lines surged and clashed, hammering together and swirling apart in individual wavelets of carnage as men screamed and hacked, buying precious moments of rest with the blood of their foes, a few seconds of respite to swipe sweat and gore from the eyes and take a deep breath. Nothing taxed the body like combat, pitting muscle, mind, and reflexes against an opponent, soldiers pushing themselves every second to keep from becoming the next corpse.

Things seemed to be going well for the Vendreti. True, their ghosthounds had not been the devastating force that Domrius may have hoped for, and true they were outmatched when it came to arms and armor, but the weight of the charge had forced a breach in the Allied lines, and Alquen’s auxiliary warriors poured into the hole.

From there, everything went awry. Alliance reinforcements crashed into the breach, rocking back the press of lightly armored Vendreti warriors, and then the cavalry of Thanisgard swept in, the hammer to the anvil of the Allied infantry.

There comes a time in any fight when one side has had enough. A good commander can bring his men past that point, or circumstances of desperation might push them beyond, but in the end an army is made of men, and men can only be pushed so far.

So it was with the Vendreti, smashed and slashed, hammered and broken, the Alquen warriors could take no more. While the cavalry wings of the Alliance forces pinched the back of the Alquen force, there was still a gap remaining open. A warrior threw down his spear and availed himself of it, likewise his fellow. Drips and drabs, ones and twos, the Vendreti threw down and turned, running for the safety of the entrance to the pass. Their offices howled their indignation, but once the flow had started, the river of panic could not be contained. The lightly armored men wheeled, breaking from the battle and fleeing from the engagement.

The Alquen regulars finally began to move, ranks folding outward and reforming into a pair of solid squares. Availing themselves of the opportunity, the retreating Vendreti began to swarm through the alley created between the squares while the regulars shifted into defensive stances, holding their ground.




TJByrum -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (12/7/2014 19:40:37)

For some of the Vendreti, pushing was a death sentence. The men attempted to hold their ground, hesitatnt to approach the Varan general and his Thanes, but their comrades behind them pushed them forward without thought. "Back, back," they yelled, but it did no good. One mighty swing of Koros' battleaxe hacked and tore into the chests, shoulders, and arms of the Vendreti ahead of him, causing them to cry out in pain and fall to the ground. Koros' Thanes kept their position, ducking beneath their shields and taking the opportune time to reach out with a blade and end the life of their opponents. It made the great general proud to be fighting alongside such well-trained, experienced warriors! But that pride could never overcome the sensation of victory.

Koros roared out as the Vendreti turned to flee, dropping their weapons and yelling, oblivious to everything around them. His lame leg left him unable to move; he was done for the time being. Letting the head of his great axe fall to the ground, he leaned up on its handle as if it were a cane. "A glorious victory! One for the songs back home, brothers!" The Varan cheered triumphantly as they watched their enemy finally disperse and flee. A few of the Varan drew their daggers and bent down, slicing the throats of the injured Vendreti, reveling in the blood that spewed out on their faces.

"It seems victory has been achieved, my general." Koros turned to spot his adviser, approaching his position. Volrun was bloodied and weary, but relieved.

"Oh no, this is just the start boy. We should charge them. Order the cavalry to charge the Vendreti back to camp." Koros turned his attention away from Volrun, watching the Vendreti continue their flight.

"Charge? I'll do no such thing. The Alquen forces have reserve troops-"

"What?" Koros exclaimed. "Order the cavalry to charge, now!"

"I will not order the Thanisgard Cavalry to charge headlong into danger, Koros." A moment of silence amongst the chaos. The Grey Eagle glared at Volrun with his aged grey eyes. Volrun glared right back at his superior with a determined gaze. He knew the old man didn't like his disobeying of orders, but Volrun was a very different man from Koros.

"We'll finish this at the tent," Koros finally said, breaking the silence. "Bring me my steed." One of the Thanes hurried off to retrieve Koros' mount.




Her spear drove through the eye socket of a fallen Vendreti warrior. However loud his pleas were before they were silenced now. But it was over, finally. Aesa let go of her spear, allowing the fresh corpse to fall over. She ripped her helmet from her head, tossing it down on the ground. She was tired. Weary. Bloodied. But she was Proven. No longer could her parents look upon her as a virgin of war; no longer could the men see her as innocent. Aesa had proven herself; she was fit for war, capable for battle, ready for death. She was finally a Varan.

Looking around she could see the fallen belligerents. Varan, Kulaki, Vendreti, Hound. The flight of the Vendreti was a glorious one... but at what cost? All that lie before her was death, ruin, and tragedy. How many husbands, brothers, fathers, cousins, friends, and uncles lie on the ground? How much of their blood stained her armor? How many had she slain? Did it even matter that she was Proven? Is this what it meant to be Varan? How could one face their family after knowing they had just destroyed another family? There was nothing glorious about this. There was no honor in what she did this day. And to think she once sung songs back in Asgeir of these victories; to think that one day someone would sing a song of her own deeds to her children, to their children, and so and so forth.

"Orders, sister?" Aesa's thought shifted from the carnage to the man on her right; one of her brothers-in-arms. "Do you have any orders for us? Volrun made it evident you were in charge of the Unproven."

Aesa shook her head, "no. You're not Unproven any longer. You're..." She could not say it. She could not tell these men they were heroes. She could not tell them something that would make them proud of this destruction. But her Varan blood caved in. "You're... Proven. O-Orders... round up the fallen, collect their Ki'gars, prepare to identify them when we return to camp. It is our duty to return them to their families." But who will return the Vendreti's belongings to their families?

"Aye, sister," the man replied before turning to the other Proven...




Dragonnightwolf -> RE: The Rise of Domrius (12/10/2014 2:27:28)

Domrius-Thanisgard succession Phase 1: Trevor"Close those ranks." Trevor ordered as he hacked off the head of a nearby beast. The remnants retreated. Cory was about to pursue but Trevor held up his hand. "Cory. Halt! We shall not pursue." It almost looked like the sub-commander wished to argue the decision but after a brief hesitation, the order was complied.

Domrius-Thanisgard succession Phase 1: Cory The battle had been bloody. Cory winced and swung down both in pain and anger. The last remnants of beast died upon his blade. He swung back onto the horse aiming to order a charge at the sudden retreating men when he heard Trevor. "Cory. Halt. We shall not pursue." Cory opened his mouth as if to say 'now wait a minute we have them on the run'. But a quick glance across reminded him. There were more troops.

Domrius-Thanisgard succession Phase 1 and a half: Thomas The forces arrived just as the battle had gotten bad. Swinging in and cutting down beasts and enemies as quickly as 20 calvary possibly could. Thomas had ducked past many a blow aimed for his skull during the battle. The beasts had almost done them all in. Sweat poured down his face as he happened to overhear an argument from where he was concerning Koros and Volrun. He overheard mention of the Calvary and made a note to speak to Trevor of it later. He busied by helping one of his men who was injured. "Here now, Thane. What happen..by the marks. Alex. Get this man over to the tents and treat that cut would you? Good man."

Domrius-Thanisgard succession Phase 2: Harry Mages had been assisted by horseback. 30 calvary archer's held with the regular archers and took aim at the foe sending a volley of arrows into ranks of flesh that belonged to the enemy. Harry spoke quickly. "I'll be just a moment." He said to the leader of the mages. He swung down off the horse grasping up his bow and aiming. at least 30 men did the same. They took careful aim at the retreating foe and shot one volley of arrows at the enemy.

Harry and his men swung back up onto their horses. "Stay the line." Harry ordered his men. The 30 that had gone to aid the regular on foot archer's pulled back to their original line of defense.

The horses in the front lines were breathing briskly. They would need a lather and a careful sponge to their faces so as not to over-heat. Some war horses looked like they needed a rest. "by the beards of my ancestors. If we keep driving them like this, we may not return them back home alive."




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