Right, a proper Rp. Also its a battle Rp for those of you that like those. Fleshing out the character a bit and giving some minor insights into his person. Enjoy!
Mowed down
It was dawn and the sun had already beat most men at rising that particular morning. The fields that were the destination already showed signs of battle. It was the sight of yesterday's fight. A Bloody mess. Arnick looked about from a low rise upon which the Perdanian forces had retreated to. Yesterday the men and women of Serion had won the fight but not completely enough to ransack the camp. Arnick spat on the ground as he looked out towards the already forming Serion lines. ''Fking bastards.'' He sorted and it was an ugly noise.
Fresh troops had arrived at night and among those, men under Arnick himself. They were tired, had sore feet and wished they had hours to rest but they didn't. Striding like a giant through the camp Arnick kicked his men to wakefulness and action. ''Get up! You worthless sons of a whore!'' His armored boots found ribs and faces.
The Perdan battleline formed but it looked poor, even with reinforcements. Hardly two thirds of the Serion force they faced. Some high up of Perdan, some Duke Albert of House Gottfried gave a short speech. Arnick's dark eyes beheld him and despised his lofty words and then he busied himself devouring a juicy apple which he cut with a steel forged Rondel, a dagger.
As if by the hand of some goddess the winds picked up and the banners of Serion flew high in the air. They had deployed in a strange layered formation, waves almost like a vengeful ocean lashing at the land that was Perdan. Arnick didn't feel like dying so as the Perdan lines formed he physically held his men back. Not giving them a reason other than fierce glares if men protested. This ensured that he and his men stood in the second battle line, after the first.
Battle joined that day as arrows sailed through the air and reaped the enemy lines on both sides. Arnick wore his suit of partial plates and wore heavy padded cloth underneath. His belt supported splintmail additions to protect his groin and his sabatons were crude but still made of true steel. He put on a great bascinet and closed the face-plate with a rough push. ''Stay with me your miserable bastards!'' He roared through the slits to his men and they in turn knew the punishment as their master unsheathed his massive steel greatsword. It was the finest piece of Arnicks kit and it gleamed in the virgin morning light. It had a black coiled leather grip finished with a pommel of solid onyx, balanced with lead.
The battle progressed and many died to missile fire, mainly on the Perdan side. Partly because there was a great deal of peasant militia's on their side. Arnick reveled in their demise as they were cut down in an amazing double charge of Serion cavalry! Blazing silvered swords flashed like the hands of gods down upon the lowly peasants and they died in droves.
Close behind the cavalry came the Serion wave of Infantrymen steadily and determined although harried by arrows. Arnick's muscles stood taut as he bellowed his war cries and charged the horsemen who were engaged in slaughter. His men were sluggish to follow but forced their bodies to press on. Failure would mean mutilation.
Air hummed as the gleaming length of sharpened steel cut into rider and beast. Blood fountained and only sparked greater acts of brutality from Arnick. His sword hammered men in full armor off their horses, cut at their lances and skewered them like pigs. The tempered steel tip of the greatsword used as a short spear when Arnick took the sword in two hands, one on the handle and the other somewhere mid blade. A brave rider parried the first blow but couldn't turn the second stab as Arnick lifted the man from his horse with a mighty thrust fueled by blind rage.
He never noticed that all his men were being decimated. The cavalrymen fought tooth and nail and where they found it hard to face the towering noble they made short work of his exhausted footmen. Limbs flew, death-screams echoes across the field and blood rained until the earth could absorb no more.
A great man, one of the cavalrymen who brandished a proper warhammer struck a fortunate blow that rang off Arnick's helm. Stumbling back Arnick nearly lost his footing as he stepped on a dying man trying to hold his liver in his belly with his own hands. The weight of Arnick's armored body made it pop out like a peek-a-boo and the man howled. The world swirled to Arnick and he blinked, made several reaction swings men were all to happy to dodge and snarled like a beast.
The fight was lost, perdan was pushed off the field a second time. Arnick was tended to by the camp medicus but not before he had drank a flask of strong spirits and reportedly killed a man for asking how he was. Throttled to death!
