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Post by aardvarklord on Apr 14, 2016 19:09:38 GMT -5
Our story begins in the mountains between Curaw, Ichamur, and Uxkhal.
Jeralt was not a man of quick temper or the sort to be easily frustrated. Life was filled with tiny struggles, as well as its share of huge ones, so there was no sense in getting riled over every minute set-back. That said, however, his raiding party's lack of success these last few weeks were proving to be a test of his patience. It wasn't simple frustration of course; being unable to find suitable raiding targets could very well prove fatal due to the lack of provisions. The farms in the area that weren't too heavily defended to strike lacked the provisions that they needed, caravans had been scarce lately, and they had been unable to find anything of worth that they could sell for food. It wasn't all bad, of course, they had bagged a few deer along the way, so their trail provisions were being left untouched in favor of the fresh meat, since they had no way to preserve it. It was a small blessing, normally unworthy of notice, but right now the band leader was willing to take anything he could get. If they couldn't find something to earn their bread there were likely a few people who would starve... that or they would be forced to take drastic actions involving the surviving elders of the tribe. Nobody wanted that, least of all Jeralt, but he knew that their chieftain was considering it. If he didn't come back with something, even if it was the armor and equipment of some soldiers to sell to a rival nation, then... well it would be best not to think about such things until they happened.
Jeralt had a group of fifteen men with him, all of them keeping an eye out for anything of notice. They were largely silent in their march across the mountain, few of them in a mood to speak considering what this disastrous patrol was likely to mean for them. The only sounds besides movement were the occasional snorts and huffs of their horses, though Arrow was proving to be rather quiet for the time being, only chuffing briefly when Jeralt gave the horse a light pat on the neck. Eventually, they reached a babbling mountain brook where they were able to let the horses drink and for they themselves to get something to drink. With a long sigh, he dunked his face in the water and let it wash over his head, glad to have the frigid northern waters to help wake him up. "Ugh... ancestors..." he muttered to himself as he found himself a rock to sit on, "What do you want from me? Is there a sign you can send me? Some indication of what we should do?" Honestly, at this point he was running out of ideas; he wasn't an avidly religious man but at this point he'd take any help he could get. What was the phrase that his mother said? 'All men pray on the battlefield.' Suppose there was truth to that. Looking around himself, he could see a few of his men also doing the same, their heads bowed as they tried to ask for their ancestors and the spirits to guide them in this hour of dire need. Obviously, no immediate message came.
Then, as he was opening his mouth to give them the order to mount up, he noticed out of the corner of his eye a flock of birds taking flight. His attention was immediate and he was quickly headed over a rise in the rocks, hoping that what he would see wasn't just a wolf pouncing a deer or something. It wasn't. In the distance a handful of people on horseback were making their way into the mountains, not exactly great in number. He couldn't quite see their details or their markings, but he saw one thing important: their leader had red on their clothing. They had dye!
"Men! Mount up!" he told his people quickly, his prior lethargy fading away as he bounded over to his horse. His people were immediately up and alert, excitement in their eyes and quizzical expressions on their faces. "A noble has found his way up here," he explained to them as he mounted Arrow with a grunt, turning to them once he was on, "What say you we see what his ransom is worth?"
Of course, they didn't just charge headlong in to charge them. No, instead they began to shadow the noble's band, staying behind rocks and on the higher ground, watching them and waiting for a moment of weakness to strike... and keeping situated so that, should they be spotted, attacking the group would be a fool's errand. Normally, the group wouldn't have had such discipline, likely they would have wanted to just go charging down into glorious battle and sweep in like the warriors they were... but the situation had hardened Jeralt's men. They did not care about the glory of battle, nor did they care about their own lives in this moment. There were people back home that needed them, and their meal ticket was waiting for them. This was not just some wild hunt: this was the difference between starvation and survival.
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Jackie
Child
Professional lazy grump.
Posts: 248 Likes: 23 
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Post by Jackie on Apr 14, 2016 22:15:39 GMT -5
Gwyn had to admit, as much as she might have disliked the frigid nights she and her men were faced with every night out in these mountains, the raw majesty and breathtaking vistas one could see out here made it well worth it in her opinion, she may have hailed from the rolling hills of Swadia, but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate the landscapes that resided beyond her people's borders. Of course she nor any of her men could really take the time to truly appreciate the scenery, they weren't here for the sights after all... Gwyn's chamberlain had approached her one day, and what he had to say certainly piqued the woman's interest. Several Swadian caravans had come under assault in the past few weeks while passing through the Blackwood mountains, and a group of invested merchants were looking to 'fix' this little supply flow problem. Word of this reached her chamberlain, who had many a contact in the markets of many of Swadia's cities. Not only were they willing to finance the moving of a small war party into the area, they were offering a fair amount of extra denars if any of the stolen supplies could be reclaimed. Needless to say, Gwyn pounced on the opportunity immediately. Within days, she and her little force were on the march. The Blackwood Mountains themselves were 'contested territory', but humorously no nation actually cared enough about them to make a move on them. The benefit of the range not being claimed was that every nation was free to move troops in to protect their assets from the roving bandit groups, which lately seemed to be Steppe raiders. Oh how Gwyn despised dealing with these Khergite rejects, they were often as disorganized as any other band of outlaws, but a mounted rabble could still be a threat. It was for this reason she'd armed her infantry and bowmen with pikes before leaving Uxkhal. Within a matter of days, Gwyn and her men had arrived at the mountain range and began their trek into it, blades sharp, bowstrings taught, and eyes peeled.
That was three days ago...
Despite having several well trained trackers and spotters amongst them, the Swadians had been unable to locate any sign of their query as they moved along the most frequently used route through the mountains, Gwyn frequently stopping her men and leading short scouting missions off the main trail, and it was here she currently found herself.
"If I didn't know any better ma'am, I'd wager those merchants are having quite the laugh at us right about now..." William, her second in command, quipped as the six man unit trotted along.
This earned light laugh from Gwyn, perched atop her horse at his side. "Tis an awfully expensive joke if that's the case Will, be patient, how many times have I led you wrong before?"
It was William's turn to laugh at this. "I don't believe I can count that high." he'd reply with a smirk, which earned a scoff and roll of the eyes from Gwyn, not that it could be seen underneath her helmet.
Talk was sparse as the group made their way along the ridge line they found themselves upon, the rest of the troops camped a few miles away in the valley below. Had the men in the party been more accustomed to the mountainous terrain, they may have picked up that they were being followed, but the tracker with them was too focused on the ground and surrounding foliage for signs of recent movement, that and in their experience bandits generally weren't the stealthiest of sorts...
Actually, it was Gwyn's horse that first alerted her that something was amiss, the large Clydesdale getting rather antsy and whinnying loudly all of a sudden. Many riders may have passed it off as something spooking the beast, but Gwyn knew that Ash didn't spook easily, and more often than not when he was nervous, something was wrong. "Stay alert men, something isn't right..." As she said this, the woman's eyes slowly scanned the upper part of the ridge, but there seemed to be nothing to see...
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Post by aardvarklord on Apr 14, 2016 23:21:54 GMT -5
It was tense as they shadowed the group, trying to get a feel for how attentive they were and trying to find a good position to conduct their ambush. Still, things were going well, they were able to move with impunity and he was pretty sure that he saw a nice outcropping they could use to jump the leader and take him out of the fight before pulling out. That was what they were here to do after all, not get into a protracted fight. The noble looked to be Swadian, or perhaps Rhodokan... no would be Swadian in this area, though he didn't recognize the emblems on the clothes (though, to be fair he couldn't see them very well). However, before they could get into that position, the leader's horse whinnied and, from down there he could hear him giving orders to his men to keep an eye out. Silently cursing his luck, he realized that, whether a fluke or not, that horse had ruined their plan. Even a noble as young as that boy sounded to be would be smart enough to not go near an obvious ambush point like that.
Well then, seemed they would do this the hard way.
Giving a few gestured to his men, he whispered for them down the line, "Nock arrows, but don't aim for the leader. Try to draw off their cavalry, but if they don't give chase, stay with us." His men grunted quiet agreement. Then with one last whispered prayer to his ancestors, he drew an arrow for his own bow and let out a very sharp and long whistle.
With that, the Swadians would be greeted by sixteen (including himself) horse mounted raiders came barreling down the hillside towards the group, battle cries roaring and arrows flying towards them. Unlike simple bandits, these men kept in groups of three (Jeralt's group being the odd four-man). They started off simply on an arrow charge towards them, trying to hit the men on the horses... and going out of their way to not hit the noble. They also didn't want to hit the horses so much either. They very quickly made an effort to try to corral them, to get them penned in and encircled, though since the others were on horseback, even with their own faster hunter horses it would have been difficult if they attempted to run. However, if they held their ground, they would gladly take the opportunity to surround them and, whenever they had the people turning their back towards the group, would dive in to try and break them up. Of course, the ideal scenario would be for the Swadians to break, but that was wishful thinking, and even before he loosed his first arrow Jeralt was pretty certain that that was unlikely.
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Jackie
Child
Professional lazy grump.
Posts: 248 Likes: 23
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Post by Jackie on Apr 15, 2016 23:14:35 GMT -5
Eventually Ash settled back down, though it was clear to see something was agitating the horse as they got moving again, and this had Gwyn herself on edge. She'd long since learned to take notice of her beloved mount's mood and demeanor, as the large equine could often sense things she herself could not. The party didn't move very much further up the ridge before stopping yet again. "Hold on men, I wa-" Gwyn didn't get the chance to finish, for a shrill whistle suddenly broke the relative silence and cut her off, immediately making the entire group snap their heads in the direction it came from. Within mere moments of the whistle, a mob of mounted men stormed over the closest rise, their battle cry and the flurry of arrows that followed making it abundantly clear what their intentions were. "AMBUSH! FALL BACK!" Gwyn shouted hoarsely to her men. The woman didn't need to count the enemy to know they were outnumbered and at a clear disadvantage, though even as swords were drawn from their scabbards and shields raised to block the flurry of arrows, the Swadians got their horses quickly turned and attempted to make a hasty retreat, all the while trying to shield themselves. While the bandit's hunter horses were clearly faster than their own, they'd quickly find the Swadian chargers not so easily directed. One poor bastard made the unfortunate decision to try and cut them off by himself, only to be thrown from his horse when he was slammed into by the retreating Swadian wall. Unfortunately these bandits weren't the usual unorganized rabble they'd all become used to dealing with Gwyn was quickly discovering, besides the one that had tried to cut them off, they were staying in tight groups and actually maneuvering themselves with clear intelligence, aiming to maximize their advantage on their surprised quarry. While they initially had a good lead in their withdrawal, it didn't take long for the raiders to cut them off proper, fortunately thanks to their armor and shields, injuries from the onslaught of arrows was fairly light, the worst being a shot penetrating the mail of one man's shoulder, though it didn't take him out of the fight. It also helped that everyone involved was on horseback, which sure didn't help their enemy's accuracy any.
Still, they were surrounded. Gwyn's men didn't need to be told what positions to take, one of the numerous drills they practiced regularly involved this very scenario. When the arrows stopped flying, the Swadians closed their ranks even tighter and formed a circle, shields up and blades at the ready as they prepared for what was likely to come next...
Then the charge came, the Swadians matching the battle cries of their attackers with fearsome roars of their own as blade made contact with blade and the fight turned into an intense melee. The bandits would find their quarry not lacking in discipline or skill, but Gwyn and her men could only hold their ground for so long before they were inevitably forced apart. It was at this point their situation went from bad to worse, separated from each other, they became easier targets no matter how valiant of a fight they put up.
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Post by aardvarklord on Apr 16, 2016 9:19:26 GMT -5
The leader's immediate reaction was irritating, but there wasn't much to be done besides keeping the men together and focused. Still, he respected the Swadians' discipline and what that meant was that they needed to not underestimate their opponent in spite of the numerical superiority. Their plan received an early blow as the youngest member of the group, Hyun, decided that he'd be a hero and urge the knights away from the direction they had intended, trying to get them to turn towards the cliffs. Of course, this was done thinking that they would turn like the goats the clan used to herd. Instead he quickly found himself run over, both he and his horse screaming at the impact and he was sent tumbling into the dirt. His older brother (who was in Jeralt's wing) very quickly broke off to tend to him, which may have normally been cause for a shout from Jeralt, but right now he didn't have the time to wrangle the brothers: they needed to pin these troops immediately. The inefficacy of their arrows was annoying, but considering the shields it was probably a point in their favor that they were able to harm any of them.
However, once they had the troop encircled came the real test: breaking an entrenched group of Swadian knights. They had handled this sort of thing with lesser cavalry with little issue, caravan guards and such, but he wasn't comfortable with this group. But, it had to be done, and all he had to do was order, "SPEARS!" The men were very quick to catch on, and soon they started making charges into the group in their three-man wings (with one of them being two-man now). Their goal was not to actually do damage, but rather to put the pressure on and force movements, to force their opponent to break formation and make them easier to handle in pieces. The Swadians held for an impressive time, but after one of the men took a spear thrust in the leg and he started to lose his concentration their line began to crumble.
Soon the men were getting split apart and his people were able to section them off and start a close-range knife fight with their swords. As they skirmished, their opponents began receiving injuries, most of them fleshwounds simply due to the thicker armour, though the wing hounding the Swadian with the injured shoulder could definitely smell the proverbial blood in the water. The Swadians weren't the only ones getting wounded--both members of that two man wing were hurt by their chosen target, one with a hack in his arm, the other knocked from his horse by a very well-timed pommel strike. Even as he was moving to intercept the leader, he saw the one fellow strike the dirt and ordered his wing to reinforce... leaving him to handle the noble.
Jeralt came barreling towards "him" at a full gallop, Arrow living up to his namesake as they came screeching across the mountain terrain, spear ready. The noble noticed him well in time, but was out of position with their sword arm on the far side and Jeralt coming in from the left flank of "his" horse. The spear collided heavily against the shield, actually painful on his arm, much less his opponent's. Yet, surprisingly they didn't fall, instead taking a swing with his sword and forcing Jeralt to come around for another pass. He did so, again striking harshly on the shield, but for his trouble he actually took a blow, though besides some future bruising his brigandine absorbed the damage. However, that taught him his lesson, and as he maneuvered away he stowed his spear in its holster on his saddle and drew his messer, his prize Rhodokan blade glinting brightly in the afternoon sun. This time when he came at his attacker, he instead brought "him" into a melee, sword fighting horseback to horseback, steel flashing on steel and the occasional ring of "his" shield taking the messer's impact. Sweat poured from his brow as he struggled to fight this individual: Jeralt was unquestionably the better horseman, but that didn't take much away from his opponent and it was impossible to know who was the better swords man in this situation. However, after a particularly powerful blow to his opponent's blade he saw his opportunity and grabbed "his" shield in his free hand and yanked the noble off of his horse, sending him crashing into the dirt.
At that point he thought that the fight was over, and quickly switched to his spear, turning it to the blunt side in the hopes of hitting his quarry on the chest and winding him enough to get him down. His cockiness proved to be a potentially fatal error. As he came riding up on the noble, who was still getting to his feet, he aimed his spear well at center mass, committing to the attack. Instead he was shocked as the noble managed to grab the pole. Jeralt's only thought was shock as he felt himself pulled from his horse, only thinking to release it after he had lost control of his balance. Arrow, while a smart horse, wasn't able to do much other than not trample his master as he was sent rolling through the dirt. It was a miracle he didn't hit a tree, actually. As his opponent collected "his" sword and moved to confront Jeralt, the steppe warrior redrew his own heavy blade, taking up a stance as he moved to confront the enemy knight. While his body was aching and he knew that this was going to be a hard-won fight, he still had a taut smile on his face: regardless of what happened, this noble was showing that he had earned his place on the field. However, as much of an honour that it might have been to face him, he needed to take this man for his tribe's survival. Soon, their duel would begin.
Meanwhile, their little battle raged on. The Swadians were holding their own and giving as good as they got, but desperation drove Jeralt's little band, and slowly but surely the enemy troops were tiring. A few of Jeralt's men were forced to pull back and the one Swadian fellow with the wounded shoulder (and now several other wounds) was practically out of the fight, but most people were still fighting, if with their own share of injuries. The majority of them were on the Swadians' side however, simply due to the momentum of the battle.
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Jackie
Child
Professional lazy grump.
Posts: 248 Likes: 23
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Post by Jackie on Apr 17, 2016 20:29:54 GMT -5
With her men scattered, the fight turned to one of survival for the Swadians, Gwyn was the least injured of the bunch, if only on account of her slightly heavier armor, but she would have plenty of bruises if they lived through this. On the upside their desperate fighting was inflicting clear damage on their attackers, the idea that just maybe they could come out on top did inspire the troops to fight a bit harder, but damned if it wasn't an uphill battle. Gwyn had just finished fending off a strafe when she noticed one of the bandits galloping straight towards her, lacking enough time to turn Ash around so she could bring her sword arm to bear properly, she'd bring up her shield and brace for the impact.
What an impact it turned out to be! While the shield had done it's job and deflected the blow, the raw power traveling through it sent a wave of pain shooting through Gwyn's shield arm. The woman did little more than grunt however, simply too pumped up on adrenaline to actually register the pain proper. Gwyn was actually almost knocked from her horse by the charge, but somehow she managed to stay mounted, she even took a swing at him as he passed, though it missed by a mile. When the bandit came around for another pass at her, Gwyn again readied herself, this time prepared to lash out proper with her sword. Again she weathered his charge, more (dulled) pain shooting through her arm. This time however, she'd swing her blade at him, unfortunately not with enough force to actually cut through his armor. It seemed the bandit wasn't brazen enough to make the same move three times however, a wise decision considering Gwyn would have responded with a proper thrust, which definitely would have penetrated his armor. Instead, the man drew his own blade, it's curved length glinting in the sunlight, before charging at her yet again. The clang of blades rang out as Gwyn's longsword clashed with the messer, the Knight lashing out at her foe with a righteous fury. The man was far better at maneuvering his own horse mid-fight than she was at maneuvering Ash, but Gwyn held her own, giving as good as she got and using her shield to great effect, his own blade ringing off of it at several points. While he couldn't see it, sweat was pouring off of the woman as they fought, and it was during times like these she almost regretted wearing a full helm. This went on for several minutes, but after a particularly powerful blow to her own sword, Gwyn's luck ran out. All of a sudden the man grabbed her shield and pulled hard, pulling the Swadian off balance and sending her crashing to the ground with a loud grunt. Ash reared back when his rider was suddenly pulled off of him, though he was smart enough to not come back down and crush Gwyn underneath one of his massive hooves.
The fall winded Gwyn, and by the time she'd gotten to her feet and caught her breath, the bandit had taken his spear back out and was galloping hard towards her, no doubt intending to strike the death blow. Thinking quickly, the Swadian dropped her sword and dodged to the side as he came roaring past, Gwyn actually managing to catch hold of the shaft of his spear as he roared past her, the Knight immediately yanking hard on it for all she was worth. To her delight, she'd taken her foe completely by surprise, the bandit not releasing his tight grip on his weapon until it was too late, as he too was sent crashing to the ground. With a huff, Gwyn quickly unbuckled her shield from her arm and let it fall to the side before picking her blade back up and charging him, the weapon gripped firmly in both hands. She knew it was risky to drop her best defensive weapon like that, but she also knew she was a much better swordsman when she had the use of both hands, and right now she needed every ounce of skill she could muster. Again the pair clashed blades as they reached each other, but while the bandit had proved himself the better horsemen, Gwynevere was fast proving herself to be the better swordsman. The woman lashed out with a vengeance with her blade, striking high and low, going at him from different directions. She did well in parrying his return blows, but the Swadian made it a point to be the aggressor, often forcing him to defend himself and leaving as few opportunities for counterattacks as she could. Gwyn also threw several kicks, punches, and pommel bashes his way when the opportunity presented itself. After deflecting a counter-swing, Gwyn ruthlessly lunged in and smashed her helmeted head square into the man's mouth.
The blow sent him staggering backwards before he fell to the ground, clearly dazed. Seizing the moment to end the fight once and for all, the Knight rushed in and kicked his blade from his hand, simultaneously twisting her own around and holding it downwards in both hands as she loomed over him, preparing to strike the deathblow and end him right then and there. So caught up in the moment and eager for the kill was she, that Gwyn didn't hear the heavy thudding of hooves riding up behind her until it was too late... The Swadian only caught a glimpse of a club when she turned her head before something ruthlessly smashed into her helmet. The blow was so savage it actually spun her around and made her drop her sword before she crashed to the dirt, it was a wonder it hadn't ripped her helmet right off in all honesty. Immediately the sounds of the fight raging around her went away, replaced with a loud, horrid ringing as Gwyn laid upon the ground, her vision muddled and incapable of refocusing. Within moments her entire body went numb, and shortly after that, her vision faded as blackness claimed her wholly, the Knight going limp and not stirring again.
William had just fended off an attack against himself when he saw his Lady go down. Mere seconds later, an arrow found it's way beneath the man's arm to his side as he'd been raising his blade to strike one of the bandits, the man letting out a pained cry and dropping his blade, damn near falling off his horse to boot. To William there was no doubt, it was over, if they didn't get out now, they were all dead men. As much as he hated the idea of leaving Gwyn, not knowing if she was dead or alive, she'd made her position on this very clear to him a long time ago... "If you face annihilation, retreat, even if you must leave me behind." And so, it was with a heavy heart that William gave the order... "RETREAT! RETREAT GOD DAMNIT!!!" Whenever an opportunity presented itself, the Swadians did just that, all of them eventually breaking off and galloping hard back down the ridge, William bringing up the rear. As battered as the small band was, if the bandits pressed the attack and cut them off again, it would likely mean death for lot of them...
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Post by aardvarklord on Apr 18, 2016 14:43:10 GMT -5
Jeralt was barely able to get up in time to face the lord as he came charging at the steppe warrior, his arms stinging with the effort of halting that first blow against him. It was surprising to see the shield gone, but he wasn't too worried about it at first, figuring that the loss of such a powerful defensive tool would make this a more straight-forward combat. Oh how wrong he was. Now, Jeralt prided himself on being a good swordsman, in fact he was probably the best or close to best in his tribe, but as he attempted to press the attack against this new opponent he quickly found himself put on the back foot, struggling to keep up with the flurry of blows being thrown at him. Sparks flew from their blades as they clashed, and while there was a constant effort from Jeralt to redirect the momentum of the battle he kept receiving blow after blow, the fact of the matter was that his sheer agility was no match for proper training. He regularly received blunt strikes across his body, the nastiest being a pommel strike he took on the wrist which quite nearly took his sword out of his hands. The longer this fight went on the clearer it became to him: this noble was his better in swordsmanship. That fact haunted him, and while Jeralt fought like a man possessed, fear of failure whipping at his back, in the end his best efforts weren't quite enough. He didn't even see the headbutt coming, his eyes focused on his opponent's blade when he felt something hard smash into his face. Stars appeared in his eyes and ringing came into his ears, the next thing that he was aware was that he was on the ground, his sword out of his grasp. It seemed an eternity until the world stopped spinning enough for him to see what was happening... and the first thing he saw was his would-be quarry standing over him, blade raised and about to end his life. He didn't even have time to react, all he could do is look on wide eyed as his every hope and dream, everything that he held dear was held in that blade. Then, salvation came as one of his men came screaming in at full speed, clubbing the knight on the back of the head and sending him sprawling into the dirt. As Jeralt slowly and painfully got back to his feet his savior, his dearest hunting companion by the name of Merrik, came riding up with urgency in his eyes. "Hope I wasn't too late, my friend!" " No, you were perfect," he replied, quickly going to his sword and raising his hand to whistle for Arrow, hoping that none of the enemy knights were coming for him. However, at that moment he heard the call to retreat, which was more than enough for him. As he saw his men debating whether to follow, he ordered fervently, " DON'T PURSUE! DO NOT FOLLOW!" They'd already taken too much in the way of injuries in this combat, he didn't want to lose anyone else. Especially since they'd captured their target... or at least hopefully. He didn't want to think about what it would mean if he was dead. As his people regrouped and went to tend to the wounded, Jeralt moved to look to the knight, making sure that this battle hadn't been for nothing... and he genuinely wanted to look on the face of the man that had so thoroughly bested him in battle. Because, he had no illusions, he lost that duel, truly and completely. As he leaned down to check on the knight, the first thing he saw was the dent in the helmet... but he also heard the distinctive sound of breathing coming from inside, which was a massive relief. With that knowledge he whistled for Arrow, who promptly came over, careful not to step on the body. At the same time, Merrik came over and told him quickly, "Nobody died, but we've got seven wounded. Hyun's the worst off, don't think he can ride on his own." " Alright, let's get out of the immediate area and tend to them, then we'll head straight home." As he did that, he collected the knight's sword and scabbard and handed it over to Merrik to hold, " My thanks for your help, old friend." The man was humble about it, simply replying, "I'm certain that I still owe you one or two." Nodding with as big a smile as the aching warrior could manage, Jeralt then turned to the process of getting the knight's armour off, knowing full well he'd need to get it off of him in order to properly restrain his foe. Come to think of it, this person had been fairly thin, a little uncomfortably small to be knight from his experience. However the true explanation as to why that was didn't register until he took the noble's helmet off and beheld their face. Jeralt's eyes nearly jumped out of his skull as he beheld not some pampered nobleman, but rather a woman, her long red hair a pretty face as stunning to him the blow she'd delivered to his head had been. Her head leaned over in unconsciousness, but very much alive. Apparently Merrik was equally shocked by the sight, as he muttered, "What the devil?" A woman knight?! Since when did the Swadians allow that? The Nords he'd understand, Khergits in a pinch, but the Swadians and Rhodoks never did that sort of thing. In that moment he felt a strange sense of guilt pull at him--here was an individual of greater bravery than any man on the battlefield, and he had just considered her as little better than a prize elk. Were it not for the urgency of his clan's needs, he would have left her unrestrained and released her once she awoke; someone of such courage deserved far better than being a simple ransom. However, he had to consider his tribe's needs and think of things practically. Sighing with frustration, he told Merrik, " help me get her out of her armour and restrain her. We'll collect her and her horse and take them back to camp. However, tell the men that so much as touching her without orders will be looked on... most unkindly." He would not have his people treat an honoured prisoner with disrespect. With that, they gathered up what they could from the battlefield, tracked down the maiden's horse and tied it to Merrik's and put the captive maiden on Jeralt's horse behind him, now in her gambeson with the armour spread amongst the party's saddlebags. With their unfortunate spoil of war, they headed off to lick their wounds and return home.
It would be several hours later when Gwyn awoke, and she would find herself between some furs with her hands and feet bound inside a round tent of wood and leather, its furnishings practically nonexistent. There were four piles of fur near the walls (including her own and one of the others with a young boy curled up inside) a handful of herbs hanging from the ceiling, and a small fire with a pot sitting over it in the middle. A woman in a simple brown dress sat before the fire warming her hands. Interestingly, Gwyn was now clad in a dress nearly identical to it, in fact it might have been identical to it for all anyone knew. Judging by the lack of light coming in from the tent's door flap it was probably night, . Outside several men could be heard having a bit of a dispute, though they couldn't be seen for obvious reasons. Occasionally the woman perked up on hearing something, but didn't say anything, instead sighing and continuing to rub her hands. It took the woman a little bit to notice that Gwyn was awake, but when she did she quickly went to her and stated softly to herself, "Ah, you're finally awake." Of course, if the Swadian woman started to move around or try to sit up, the stranger would gently but firmly try to stop her from sitting up, "Easy now, you're in no shape to stand and I'm not sure how much that blow to your head did." Assuming she didn't stir protest too much, she would then go ahead and pull out a bit of cloth to dip in the water she was heating. With the cloth, she then went and checked on the woman's head wound, saying gently, "Please let me know if it hurts too much." |
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Jackie
Child
Professional lazy grump.
Posts: 248 Likes: 23
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Post by Jackie on May 5, 2016 21:16:09 GMT -5
(GG is sick and has instructed us to go ahead and continue without him for the time being.)
The first thing to greet Gwynevere when she regained consciousness was pain, not just the familiar soreness and aches that came after exerting oneself in combat, but a heavy throb within in her head. The woman stirred and groaned lightly, her eyes squinting shut and her teeth gritting as her head pounded. When her blue eyes eventually opened, it took the Swadian's vision several moments to focus, and for a short while she merely lay there in confusion, her thoughts a jumbled mess. What happened? Where am I? As Gwyn gazed about the room she found herself in, the memories came rushing back with a quickness. They'd been ambushed, last thing she remembered was standing over one of the swine, blade raised and ready to drive it into his gut. She also recalled hearing the heavy thud of a horse's hooves coming up behind her, but everything after that was a blur. When Gywn tried to move, she'd quickly discover that her wrists and ankles were bond with rope, something which made her heart seize up and her throat tighten. No. No no no! This couldn't be happening, she'd been taken prisoner?! Had the lump in the woman's throat not been so large, she'd have let out a very audible groan. To be taken prisoner by a rival Lord was bad enough, but to be captured by a band of tribal savages? She'd never live down this humiliation... Of course while her pride had suffered a monstrous blow, more pressing was her actual safety. Generally Lords treated their captured rivals with a certain level of respect, provided said prisoners were cordial and didn't make attempts to escape, it was somewhat of an unspoken agreement amongst the many nations, however, these tribals weren't bound by any such honor...
On a positive note, she was still clothed and placed on a bed of furs, something she found surprising in and of itself really, then again when it came to these sorts of people she'd have expected to wake up stripped naked in a cage, if not worse... About then the sounds of several muffled voices reached Gwyn's ear, but upon actually shifting her gaze beyond the pile of furs she was laying upon, she'd only see a woman warming herself by the fire. While she'd not been very noisy up to that point as it was, the Swadian practically froze. Glancing about, the Knight looked around desperately for something she could use as a weapon, but alas, nothing adequate could be easily reached. In the end it didn't really matter, while she could at least work with bound wrists, having her ankles restrained pretty much ensured she'd have not been able to put up much of a fight against the woman. Regardless, Gwyn at least made an effort to push the fur blanket on top of her off and sit up, but her back barely left the furs beneath her when the dark-skinned woman came over and promptly pressed her back down, though she was at least fairly gentle about it. The Swadian said nothing in reply to woman's insistence that it wasn't wise for her to try and stand up. Gwyn merely watched as the woman fetched herself a bit of cloth and dipped it in the pot of water hanging over the fire, the knight tensing up as her captor moved the wet cloth towards her head. No words were needed to describe the pain, for when the woman touched the cloth to the spot on Gwyn's head that had been struck, the Swadian gritted her teeth and hissed through them as a fresh wave of pain shot through her head. After enduring the unpleasant sensation for several moments, Gwyn's jaw loosened a bit as the pain subsided, which allowed her to let out an exasperated sigh. As the woman tended to her wound, the knight eventually found her voice and saw fit to speak, though she didn't have much to say. "...Thank you."
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Post by aardvarklord on May 6, 2016 23:02:58 GMT -5
The migrant woman could clearly tell that the Swadian was more than a little angry, but there wasn't much she could do or say to remedy that situation. She had every right to be angry, and to be fair she probably suspected far worse than what her brother and the other men of the tribe had planned for her. As the woman cringed and hissed at the pain, she tried to touch a bit softer with the cloth, but only so much could be done considering the sort of blow she'd taken. Heck, from what her brother had said, this warrior had been wearing a helmet when that happened--must have been one heck of an assault she took to earn this kind of knot THROUGH metal plate. Of course, she didn't stop tending to the injury, though when she was suddenly thanked by the woman she froze briefly. Thanked? For what? For looking after her wounds? Was that so unusual? Well, not much to be said on the matter--she just nodded politely to her and continued to try and get it taken care of. Of course, there was only so much, and eventually she had to give up and set the towel back into the water with a sigh. "I wish there was more I could do for you," she said gently, "But... well... the chieftain doesn't want to use our medical supplies on someone not of the tribe." They were using a lot of what they had just healing the men that her people had wounded.
Assuming the Swadian didn't need anything direly, she then walked out of the tent briefly and found the arguing men. They'd been mostly debating as to what they would do with the captured female noble, or rather who she would be sold to. Jeralt had been arguing for 'back to her family,' but a few others wanted to send her to the Khergit's, since they'd probably be able to jack up the price or try to cement an alliance of sorts. Clearing her throat as she approached, Edwena announced to the group, "Excuse me. But, the prisoner's awake."
On hearing this, Jeralt turned from the group and looked to his sister, his thoughts moving quickly as he debated before finally turning to the other men and telling them quickly, "We'll talk later." With that, he accompanied his sister back into their tent, asking along the way, "How's she faring?"
"Well, she's coherent (and angry)," Edwena admitted noncommittally, "but that's all I can really say for certain. That wound on her head still looks pretty mean."
Sighing, he took a deep breath to steel himself for the doubtless wrath of his captive before coming into the tent. It would've been utterly obvious to the Swadian that this was the man she'd been dueling with (and about to kill) just before she was knocked unconscious. However, rather than any sense of smug superiority or even any satisfaction, he simply looked solemn and somewhat guilty. With a long sigh he knelt down near her and looked into the woman's crystal blue eyes as he said somewhat dourly, "Well, I can't imagine you have any kind words for me." If she had any ranting she wanted to get out, there was time and he'd take it, but if she just wanted to remain quiet, he'd take that too. Either one wouldn't exactly feel great. "If it makes you feel any better, we're not going to hurt you further. So long as you don't do anything drastic of course."
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Jackie
Child
Professional lazy grump.
Posts: 248 Likes: 23
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Post by Jackie on May 10, 2016 10:24:19 GMT -5
Gwyn merely nodded her understanding to the dark-skinned woman as she was told that nothing much in the way of medical supplies could be spared on her, by orders of their chieftain. Silence fell once more unless the woman had anything else to say, and the Swadian found her thoughts drifting to William and the others she'd been riding with. Closing her eyes, she'd say a mental prayer for their safety before opening them again. She'd stressed to her men time and time again not to do anything rash if such a situation came to pass, but whether they'd be able to override their loyalty and obey this order she didn't know, Gwyn just desperately hoped the lot of them still drew breath and got away safely. Shortly afterwards, the dark-skinned woman finished tending to the Swadian's head wound and promptly exited the tent. Utilizing the opportunity, the knight pushed the fur blanket off of her and sat up, though the wave of dizziness and throbbing pain that immediately struck her damn near put her right back down. Fortunately the pain and nausea passed after a few moments, at which point Gwyn scrutinized her bonds. Unfortunately the rope work around her wrists had been done to tightly to be undone with her hands, it would likely have to be cut with a blade, the rope around her ankles wasn't much better though she'd try to untie them anyways. It didn't take long for the Swadian to realize her efforts were in vain, and with a frustrated growl she'd give up. Not one to be dissuaded, Gwyn looked around the room once more, hoping to find something sharp she could cut the ropes with.
Gwyn barely started looking when the flap to the tent opened once more, and in stepped a man with a face she immediately recognized... Him... It was the bastard she'd been on the verge of killing, come to gloat no doubt... Surprisingly, his expression wasn't one of arrogance or superiority, he actually looked rather glum, which confused the woman a bit. Either way, that didn't stop her blue eyes from trying to bore holes through his head, her lips tightening as she scowled at him. The woman's hands clenched into fists as she approached, though she'd make no attempts to lash out at him as he came over and knelt down near her, her eyes never left him however. His words made her eyes narrow, and the urge to spit in his face was almost overwhelming, but Gwyn just kept quiet until he saw fit to speak again.
One would figure the first question out of her mouth at that point would be what he intended to do with her, but such wasn't the case with Gwyn. "What of my men?" Had the tribal informed her they'd been killed, the Swadian would have tried to strangle him right then and there, fortunately no such news came. When she was instead informed they'd fled and that his men hadn't pursued them, Gwyn let out a relieved sigh, indeed the man could have practically seen the wave of relief wash over his prisoner at this news, her expression softening a great deal, though she still didn't look particularly pleased. "Dieu merci..." she'd murmur beneath her breath. Truthfully, by not killing the lot of them the man had likely made a huge mistake, William was a smart man and a good tracker, if anyone could find her in these rugged mountains, it was him. With her most pressing concern addressed, Gwyn's mind drifted to what fate lay in store for her... "What do you intend to do with me Khergite?" she'd go on to ask, her gaze narrowing once more on her enemy. The Swadian didn't bother spouting threats or reminding him of what the penalty for ambushing and kidnapping a noble during peacetime was, knowing full well the man wasn't concerned with any of that if he were rash enough to attack a Swadian patrol in the first place. Gwyn was also willing to bet this was the group that was responsible for attacking those caravans as well.
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Post by aardvarklord on May 26, 2016 20:38:21 GMT -5
While he expected it, Jeralt couldn't help but feel a slight tingle down his spine as the Swadian glared at him. He knew damn well that if she were able to she probably would have tried to kill him the moment she laid eyes on him, and as familiar as it was he still found it a little chilling. However, he came here to let her know the situation and to try and explain himself to the honorable woman as well as he could; it was the times that they lived in, certainly, but that didn't mean that having to do this made him feel any better. That all said, he still expected her to act like a noble when told of her situation, for her to ask his intent, perhaps wondering if she was a trophy or something despicable like that. Instead her first thoughts were of her own people. While his expression didn't show it, he definitely found it very admirable that she was so concerned about her people as opposed to her own life. "Alive, as far as I know. Several were wounded, but we didn't pursue them when they retreated." The relief on her face was nice to see, even if it didn't reduce her anger all that much.
As for the issue of being pursued, well the other elders were well-aware of that, and even Jeralt wasn't entirely unaware of the matter, but they figured that they would be able to manage a ransom before the Swadians could mount a counter-attack. She knew that her people wouldn't react well to this situation, but his hope was that they could defuse it before it could escalate to further violence, namely by getting this noblewoman off their hands and get some gold into their pockets. Speaking of which... her addressing of him as a Khergite earned a smirk out of him--largely because he looked nothing of the part and, technically speaking, his people weren't from that nation even if they were vaguely related. Still, he kept sober and responded calmly, "Ransom." Once the initial word was out and he figured out how to explain it to her, he continued more clearly, "Frankly, we were hoping for a caravan or some cattle. But we need the supplies, and if selling your freedom to someone else is the only way for us to get them, then that will be how we do it." He had no doubt that she would have some pretty choice words for him over that, but even if not he then added with a somewhat rueful grimace, "Right now we're just debating whether to go to the Swadians or the Khergites. Personally, I would rather do the honorable thing and return you to your countrymen, but not everyone agrees on the matter."
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Jackie
Child
Professional lazy grump.
Posts: 248 Likes: 23
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Post by Jackie on Jun 27, 2016 11:06:00 GMT -5
Gwyn actually had taken notice that the man before her was much lighter complected than a Khergite, more akin to her in looks than the woman that had been tending to her even, but he wore their clothing and wielded their weapons which was enough for her to classify him as such.
The Swadian honestly didn't know what else she'd been expecting when he revealed she was to be ransomed off, while she didn't appear surprised by the information, her lips did tighten a fair deal, and her brows furrowed as her eyes stared into his. "Then you'd best pray to your god that we never meet on the battlefield again." While there was certainly plenty of malice in her tone, she wasn't exceptionally vicious with her words, it was more of a fair warning that she'd kill him if given the chance than a petty threat meant to intimidate him, not that it would have anyways. Even if she wasn't sold to a rival nation as a future bargaining chip, the idea of being sold back to her own people wasn't exactly going to make her jump up and shout for joy. Aside from being utterly humiliating, the fact was that if the demanded amount was high enough it would take a nasty bite out of her family's already measly coffers. While she'd done well enough over the years and sent enough denars home to stabilize the situation in Gism, a costly screw up like this could set them back years. As the woman's mind went through the many possibilities, more and more she found her thoughts drifting towards escape, it seemed the only way she could get out of this mess without it being costly to her father. Gwyn supposed there were a few alternative options, she'd made quite a few allies in the Swadian courts over the years, certainly she could call on one or two to help her out, but again the humiliation of such an act seemed almost too much to bear...
Gwyn was a little surprised to hear the man say he himself wanted her to be returned to her countrymen, though she didn't have much reason to actually believe his words, then again he also may have not felt the need to lie to her, as she wasn't in much of a position to do anything about her situation at that point in time. The fact that there was a 'debate' at all over the subject and that the decision alone was not his to make was a clear indicator that he wasn't the man in charge of these tribals, though the way he'd been leading that ambush insisted he was somewhere higher up in their hierarchy and not just a standard hunter or something of the like. "Either way it sounds like your days of attacking passerby's in these mountains are over larron." Regardless of how this debacle turned out, this rabble would have had to have complete fools for leaders if they remained in the area when it was all said and done, if another noble didn't lead the charge to wipe them out for good, Gwyn herself would have been happy to return and do it herself if at all possible.
It took William and the rest of the men not quite an hour to return to the main force, which had already begun the task of setting up camp seeing as dusk would arrive shortly. Immediately the man on watch could tell something was wrong, as some of the mounted men looked to be wounded. "Get them to the surgeon." William his men that were the least wounded, whom nodded their understanding before dismounting and helping their wounded comrades from their own horses, at which point they'd be hurriedly escorted to where the surgeon usually set up when they made camp. William then turned his attention to the man on watch, whom was clearly quite confused and alarmed by what was going on. "Where is Quinn?" he'd inquire in a no nonsense tone as he dismounted his own horse. "Uhh, l-last I saw he was helping get the tents set up sir." the watchman replied. "S-sir, you're bleeding!" William took no notice of the relatively minor wound he'd recieved however, indeed he'd barely registered the man's words at all, instead brushing right past him and hurrying into camp. "Take care of the horses!" he'd call behind him to the watchman before disappearing from sight.
Quinn, like William, had been one of the men that elected to stay with the group when Gwyn took command of their unit from Aldwin years ago. He was a good, reliable soldier with a knack for leading, and because of this Gwyn had made him third in command, he also helped oversee the force's logistics and frequently worked with the chamberlains. Just as the watchman said, William ended up finding him helping several other soldiers go about setting up their simple tents for the night, though the second he laid eyes on William he immediately stopped what he was doing and ran to meet him. "Good God man you're bleeding! What happened?!"
"Ambush, fifteen mounted men attacked us on a ridge line a few miles from here, we tried falling back but they cut us off. ...We lost Lady Gwynevere. I don't know if she was killed or knocked unconscious."
All the color seemed to fade out of Quinn's face when William revealed that they'd had to leave Gwyn behind, and that her fate was unknown, his expression turning from one of confusion to one of worry and concern.
"Tell the men to pack the camp back up, we need to march on that ridge and see if she still draws breath." William went on to add before making to brush past Quinn.
"Pack up camp?! William the sun will be well set by the time we reached the ambush site if it's as far as you say. There is no moon tonight, we'll be as blind as bats out there."
In response to Quinn's words, William snapped his attention back at the man. "We can't just leave her out there! What if she's wounded and just laying out there?! What if they took her?! God knows what those fucking savages will do to her!" he'd bark, his tone louder than it had been before and attracting the attention of the men around them.
Quinn, always one for being logical, kept relaxed despite William's aggression. "We both know if she's alive they'd have taken her William, we'll do her no good marching off into the dark in search of her. Even if we did somehow manage to stumble upon their camp in the night it would likely turn into a blood bath. You're a fantastic tracker old friend, but even you can't work without daylight."
William looked as if he were ready to punch Quinn at this point, his fists clenched tightly together and his face as red as could but. As rash as William could sometimes be however, he wasn't a fool, and as much as he hated it he had to face the fact that Quinn was right, tracking down those bandits would be nigh impossible in the pitch blackness of the moonless night to come. With a heavy sigh the man's shoulders sagged, his aggressive demeanor breaking as one of his hands went to rub at the corners of his eyes. "I'm...I'm sorry Quinn I just... We just left her there... I wanted to go to her but they were about to kill us all." Quinn just went to the man's side and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, doing his best to keep upbeat about the disastrous turn of events. He of course knew William was no coward, and if anything could have been done to save their Lady, he'd have done it.
"It will work out William, if she's alive we'll find her, I have no doubts of this." Quinn went on to say.
William didn't seem quite so sure about this as Quinn did, but nontheless his friend's reassurances and certainty did help alleviate his fears, if only a little. "I hope you're right." After taking a deep breath and gazing about the camp for a few moments, William turned his attention back to Quinn. "Alright, instruct the men to only set up what needs setting up, I want us on the march at first light, understood?"
Quinn managed to smile at the order, and he'd nod his understanding. "I'll inform the men and have them ready when the time comes, don't you worry about that. Now for God's sake go see the surgeon, you'll hardly be able to rescue our Lady if you bleed to death before morning." A very thin, forced smile formed on William's lips in response to Quinn's words, and he'd silently nod before leaving the man to his work and setting off to find the surgeon to have his wounds tended too.
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Post by Stelpher on Jul 8, 2016 21:26:49 GMT -5
For two moons Reinhardt had been travelling through these damned mountains and valleys, and he was already getting tired of them. He had long since abandoned the thought of wearing his plate in favour of his leather armour, the reduction in his mobility far outweighing any protective value it would normally hold. The singsongs of birds and the other sounds of nature had lost their tranquil and calming aura, now simply reminding him that he had managed to get himself lost. He didn’t understand what went wrong - the plan had been so simple. Rather than going around the mountains, he would just go straight through them southward bound. It should cut days off his travelling time.
And yet here he was; lost in the valleys and forests of this god damned mountain.
His muscles tiring from the effort of walking for so long, Reinhardt found a small clearing amongst the trees and sat himself down on one of the few rocks littering the area. Rogers, Reinhardt’s faithful mule, began chewing on the grass nearby while the many items carried on his back gently clattered in the breeze. Reinhardt took the opportunity to relax, laying back on the rock and letting the cool breeze blow across him. The sounds of insects in the grass and birds in the trees relieved the tensions in his body and mind, while the scent of grass and decaying leaves and smoke drifted through his nostrils.
Smoke? Reinhardt’s mind immediately recalled the image of his home set ablaze, his wife lifeless on the grass before it. He opened his eyes and through the break in the trees caused by the clearing he could see a column of smoke rising nearby. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes from the clearing, so Reinhardt decided on this as his new destination. Best case scenario he stumbles across a settlement or camp of some sort and can get directions off these damned mountains, the worst he stumbles across Bandits and has to ask them none-so-politely.
Within the hour Reinhardt had arrived in a valley and found the camp. He had tied Rogers to a tree some distance away and re-equipped his plate armour in case of the worst scenario. From a distance the camp appeared Swadian, but it was impossible to truly tell from this distance, and Reinhardt dared not take off his helmet in case of archers. Before long it was obvious that someone had spotted the tall steel frame approaching their camp, as the tension he could feel from the camp increased and two guards on watch awaited Reinhardt. Reinhardt himself kept his Zweihander ready for use, but held it resting against his shoulder in a none-aggressive stance.
“That’s close enough stranger, state your business.”
Reinhardt held his advance, dropping his blade to the ground and resting his hands on its hilt.
“I am a travelling mercenary, lost in these god-forsaken mountains. I seek guidance, and possibly a map.”
The two guards eyed him warily before turning to each other and discussing what to do with him in hushed tones. Reinhardt waited patiently for them, attempting to scope out the rest of the camp in the bad light. The two guards eventually focussed their attention back on his armoured figure.
“You’ll have to bring it up with our superior. If anyone here can help you, he’ll be the one.”
Reinhardt nodded his thanks.
“I have a mule tied to the edge of the forest, I will collect him before I return.”
He trudged off towards the tree-line, returning moments later with his faithful companion and entering the camp.
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