Author Topic: The Carefree Adventures of Asher Renodin  (Read 9811 times)

Renodin

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Hey there. Come 'round and take a seat. You'll need a moment to read this one if you intend to. Its a battle RP. For the liberation of Isadril, a big city in the south of the East Continent. The forces of Greater Xavax try and push the Forces of Vix Tiramora out. Right after the Vix had succesfully Taken the City over but faced a near instant peasant rebellion. Enjoy!


Before the Walls of Isadril

Looking down from its little perch atop a branch of a great old oak the tiniest of ravens curiously scanned the ranks of men marching past. Its beak opening to taste the air. Each breath filled with the aromas of worn leather, horseflesh, oils, the sweat of warriors and delicious food. The truest of its goals. Watching humans was intriguing but only because they always had so much food and better yet, wasted much of it.

Asher looked to his right, the lines on his face betraying his emotions. He swayed in the saddle as his riding horse ambled on but it did little to distract him, however much he wanted to be distracted, of that accursed noise. Riding right next to him was one of his men. Big of body with shoulders that wouldn’t look out of place on a blacksmith, or a mason perhaps. Sporting a throat without stubble but despite of that, possessed a rough face. The tangle that was his hair didn’t help much either. He was, while loudly eating a cold piece of mutton, perfectly oblivious to Asher’s annoyance. Gripping the meat by the yet linen wrapped end of it. His teeth crudely employed to parts saw, parts rip, pieces of it.

Feeling thoroughly fed up with the situation Asher cleared his throat. A single eyebrow arched high as he cast his gaze onto the soldier. Men kept marching, the wind kept blowing and the soldier remained utterly oblivious. A small piece of meat even flopped out of his greedy mouth as he attempted to stuff it too much. Accompanied by a set of drops of saliva that stained his livery just above his right nipple. The half chewed morsel cascading down and landing in the dirt where it was ground into the soil, never to be seen again.

The tiny raven tensed and un-tensed  as it perceived its chance and saw it lost again. Its feathered neck blooming big in frustration while its little talons gripped the branch just so slightly tighter. Another chance would present itself it hoped. Black eyes fixed on the burly, eating man that sat atop the horse.

Feeling the fool Asher spoke up. ‘’Would you mind?’’ His voice sharper than he had intended. ‘’I’m awake! I’m awake! Wasn’t asleep!’’ A voice came. Asher glanced behind him to catch the last quick movements of a man trying to straighten his kit out. Looking back at his intended recipient Asher looked into grey blue eyes that were brimming with confusion. ‘’Swir?’’ The man replied with a full mouth. ‘’Are you done eating yet?’’ It really wasn’t a question. ‘’We’re about to give battle to the Vixians and you’re just sitting there, eating. Like its nothing!’’ A vein had revealed itself on Asher’s right temple. The soldier swallowed hard, a lump clearly visible going down his throat. ‘’Well Sir, if this is going to be my last meal, I better eat it. Cost me a fair copper you hear.’’ The man’s voice a mix of seniority over the young Noble and in part protective of his meal.

Breath was forced hard out of Asher’s nostrils. ‘’With talk like that it will be your last meal. Finish eating already.’’ With no further or any real argument Asher turned his face front and held on his now, anger. The soldier secretly gave an ugly smirk. His lips gleaming with grease. He was no fool however and after taking a huge bite of the remaining mutton cast what was left aside. The linen wrapped scrap of meat sailed through the air. A certain, patient bird very keenly aware, as its discarded prey landed in the brush next to the road.

The combined armies of Greater Xavax marched past as the tiny raven gorged on his prize. The wastefulness of men once more proven and because of it, it’s belly full.

The sight of Isadril arose from the horizon. The road that led to the great city familiar but not a man nor woman was at ease. The enemy had claimed it for their own but didn’t expect the peasantry to resist them as they had. Casting aside the false masters, the low born had risen up and rebelled against the Vix Tiramora. Rumour had it that the Vix were already going about installing new officials and crushing opposition within the city. Not today however. The banners of a defiant Xavax fluttered in the wind.

As the Xavax war host approached the city it became very clear that the Vix were not afraid, impressed even one might suspect. Their warriors came streaming out of the city. The great festival ground and at times, caravanserai, the site of their deployment. Exiting the mild and subdued hill-lands the Xavax forces gathered themselves up and began their own deployment. Asher send his captain to meet with the Marshal and get instructions. His eyes and mind too busy looking at the enemy. They deployed a good chunk of their infantry way back and behind their archers. Whom incidentally took up the first rank along with a few infantry bodies mixed into it.

Almost like a link between the first and third row of deployment Asher could see a large unit. Men carrying arming axes and javelins and shields. Mixed infantry he reckoned and they were flanked by two units of regular infantry. Perhaps reserves for the first row he mused. But they were too few for such a role he thought. A frown of uncertainty danced on his face. ‘’Sir!’’ The voice of his captain came. ‘’We are to deploy with the Xerarch in the third row.’’ The man clearly believed this to be an honour. To be placed alongside the Ruler of Greater Xavax. Asher nodded. ‘’Inform the men, get them ready and formed up. I’ll join you soon.’’ The captain saluted and rode off.

Asher stared at the enemy formation. It made no sense to him. They outnumbered us with infantry, why put their infantry so far back? Especially since they fielded no cavalry. Wouldn’t they need their spearmen to keep the Xavax horsemen off their archers? The Vix vexed him. Consigning the intricacies of Vix strategies to the proverbial box that held all mysteries, Asher rode towards his men. Passing the banners of Godric of House Ka Habb, his mentor. He tried to catch a glimpse of the man but couldn’t. Right nearby was the Royal Guard of Selenia of House JeVondair. They commanded respect. Simply by their station but also because of their professionalism. Quality horsemen each and every one. Asher fancied his men would one day equal them. A grim voice whispering in his head that they’d have to survive first. Mortality among all Xavaxian warriors was rather high after all.

Before arriving at his men Asher passed the bannermen of Grepthar of House Farlarien. These cavalrymen equalled his own in number and would be rivals for glory and distinction. That might’ve been true on any other day but today was about survival for Xavax. They had to liberate the Great City of Isadril and the odds were against them. Looking once more at the Vixian war host his eyes informed him that numbers wise, the two forces looked rather equal. Where the scout reports false then? The captain of his troops heralded his arrival. Asher greeted his men with a raised hand. As if to rein in their enthusiasm, would there have been any. The men looked sullen, casting glances at their Commander. A boy-man not even twenty summers of age. Asher was getting used to their depreciating looks not that he liked them. Sensing the need to say something he nudged his horse forwards a bit. Just enough so that he stood before the formation that was his men. ‘’We’ve been here before.’’ His brows heavy as he instinctively braced them against the sunlight that threatened to fall into his eyes. Unintentionally making him frown heavily. ‘’That. Is our City.’’ He stuck out a hand and arm in the direction of Isadril. ‘’Not a week ago she paid our wages.’’ His voice picking up some force. Some of the men grunted their support or displeasure. ‘’These Barbarians of the North, these Vix. They are robbing from us our deserved pay! Your pay!’’ Asher paused a moment to see how the greed card was playing out. Many of his men looked angry, like boys from whom toys were stolen. ‘’They’ve been taking all our money and lining their pockets with it! With your money!’’ A few men shouted abuses, some very creative and some really base. ‘’When the General gives the go, how about we ride them down under our hooves and we take back what is rightfully ours?! Take what you find and keep it!’’ Especially that last earned a cheer albeit short.

Both armies tensed, the lines became more rigid, horses whinnied or snorted and men grew silent. The Marshals of Xavax, Solomon of House Steele, the Marshal of the Steele of Xavax and Marshal and Talon Lionel of House Kinsey, Marshal of the Phoenix of Xavax both gave the command for the Army to advance in the Infantry Advance Formation. This meant that the Xavax Infantry would lead the charge instead of the Cavalry that usually did so.

As for the Vix and as far as Asher could tell, the Vix didn’t care. Their Marshals snug with their units and they moved as they wanted it looked like. Noting behind him, Asher saw a small unit of friendly cavalry. Men in the employ of Viktoria of House Von Striga. He didn’t think much of it.

As the horns call, the banners started to move. The din of armour and shield rose, as did the strength of the wind. Like a plaything of the gods they saw to it that any arrow that flew would have to be shot by a master to hit their mark. The Vixen had many masters. From their front rank a hail was unleashed. It crossed the battlefield and like hungry lions lunging for their prey did their arrows rip into the Xavax. Riding with the Cavalry, Asher saw the unequal exchange between archers from both sides. His eyes beheld the first men dying a death come far too early. Glory snatched from them as they fell first before the hundreds yet to fall.

Riding hard through the ranks of friendly marksmen Asher gawked at what he saw next. A contraption of wrought iron, rested upon heavy timber and handled by half a dozen men. A creation of dark wonder that belched fire and commanded thunder to sprout from its tubular mouth. A deafening roar knocked two men flat to the ground and they were merely standing near the thing. A gap had formed in the Xavaxian lines as the warriors of Gia of House Dragonfyre executed a practiced manoeuvre. A perfect gap through which Arched death fluttered in amongst the Vixian lines. Tearing limb from limb. Destroying men and armour without discrimination. A mist arose so fine and crimson that it blocked view until the wind itself pushed it aside. Leaving a hellscape of blood for all to see.

Right after, the archers of Vix targeted the Gia and her wolves and her fighters. They were pelted until forced to slow, to halt and finally they broke. What they took in punishment the rest of the Xavax infantry took in encouragement. Roaring battlecries and the intelligible shouting of men pushed beyond the brim of sanity, rage. The lines touched and the groan and crunch of melee cut the air. Men suffocated as they were crushed between friend and foe. The very breath that gave them life, forced from their bodies under the pressure. Halberds chopped down onto shoulders, daggers grasped in desperation and everyone cursed the mud that formed with the inundation of the soil with the blood of the dead and the dying.

Charging down the field Asher glanced left and then right. He saw Godric roar and Xerach Selenia scream. Grepthar thundered along with his men and Elessa’s face was a mask of murder. Asher’s spirits lifted seeing his fellow Nobles so emboldened. His unit moving through the fight and found a target. ‘’Lances!’’ He screamed at the top of his lungs. He pointed his own first and a heartbeat later those of his men followed suit. A land-bound arrow propelled not by horn and wood but by horse. Their victim a small group of warriors that was engaging the men of Dame Kyn of House Hyral.  As their struggle ensued Asher’s horsemen fell upon them like a razor upon stubble. So clean the cut and so total the devastation. The Vixian braves fell like pebbles in a stream, never to be seen again after vanishing under the surface. Their leader, a man known as Stefen of House Kingly unfortunate enough to be snatched from the ground by Asher’s lance and hurled at least two bodies lengths away. Only to land in a mess of bend armour and blood.

The Vix infantry was pushed back. Their men dying and by choice divided and thus now overwhelmed by the infantry of the Xavax and their Cavalry. Fighting through the melee and breaking free to reform for a second charge Asher shouts for his men to rally on him. His eyes darting across the battlefield. His body having collected at least a dozen bruises without the recollection for earning any of them. His left greave held his calf uncomfortably, bashing it against the flank of his horse did little to adjust it.

He saw Godric charge ahead. They had rallied faster than him, or was this their first charge? There was no way to tell. They targeted a large unit of swordsmen in heavy armour. These iron men were protecting archers and Godric’s horsemen would dislodge them from their duty. Arrows descended upon him and his like a sudden spring deluge. Their charge didn’t falter and they fell upon their target. A raw exchange saw the iron men weaver but not enough to break. Against, for the second time in as many weeks Asher saw his mentor fall in battle. Vanishing in the thick of combat. Too far away for him to do anything.

Steeling himself Asher began to give the command to charge those very same Iron Men. Then he heard the voice of the Xerarch, she was calling warriors to her side for a charge. Not a call to ignore and Asher answered it. Riding in step with the Royal Guard they rode up behind the Xavax infantry, looking for an opening and it presented itself. A unit of infantry under the banner of House Drake, led by Lady Sevonne. Staunchly holding the line against the Xavax horde. For that was what they looked like now. A bloodthirsty horde bend on revenge. The Sword of the Xerarch flashed and the target was given. A roiling noise came from the throats of the cavalry that responded to her and hooves dug deep into the soil.

That noise one hears when an avalanche is in full swing. Not of snow but of rock. That was the sound that penetrated Asher’s ears when the combined force of his cavalry and that of the Xerarch crashed into the Vix infantry. Kudos to them for they tried to hold. Lances punctured through mail and through cuirass. Flesh was the prize and it was claimed greedily. Asher couldn’t count the faces he was seeing. They sped past so fast he could barely keep up his attacks. Never stopping his horse but desperately trying to make it go slower was a titanic task under the circumstances. He felt something strike his foot and stabbed at it. Then a man fell against his side. A big man but he slumped to the ground fortunately. A moment’s respite allowed him to look around and he saw how he and his Xerarch, the Queen of Greater Xavax had routed the unit with a single charge. His white teeth flashed in a spellbound smile. His men still seemed to all be here, give or take one that he couldn’t see.

The Xerarch wasted no time and pushed the advantage. The Xavax infantry right behind her and catching up with Asher even. ‘’Form!’’ Having just enough breath for that single word without his voice breaking. The odds seemed in his favour, Xavax was doing well, the enemy pressed. Would they soon buckle? The thought crossed Ashers mind.

‘’There!’’ Asher pointed with his crimson lance, stained with the blood of his enemies for half its entire length. He indicated a small gap that was forming in the Vixian lines. It showed a small ray of a path that led directly to a small band of enemy archers. ‘’Let us fall upon them! They have our purses! Your Purses!’’ His youthful voice broke but his men didn’t care. They roared their ragged cries of approval.

They rode on and it took a while. Asher saw how the Xerarch led another charge into a similar band of archers as Asher had targeted. It crumbled under her charge but the Xerarch wasn’t left unpunished though. A precise volley of missile fire felled most of her Royal Guard and even knocked her off her horse. A ripple of unease reverberated through the ranks. At about the same time Aramon of House Abjur, Arbiter of Greater Xavax was taken out as well. The judge of Xavax had been leading his warriors on foot and while he fought bravely, he could not resist forever. His body kicked and punched by mailed fists. Asher couldn’t see what became of him but it was clear he was in trouble.

Seeing the visible effects of these two notable Xavax Nobles fall in battle Asher led out a fierce battlecry. Shrill but fierce. Urging his horse on for more speed and the wonderful creature responded. Beyond expectation but she managed it. Asher and his men fell upon the small group of archer whom had tried to break away and run but were far too slow and had decided far too late. They were run down and trampled where they fell.

Having planted his lance in the back of an enemy archer, Asher drew his sword. A fine arming sword that was Spartan save for his family’s crest engraved just above the guard. Look about he realized they were alone. His twenty or so horsemen and himself. Where had all the Xavax infantry gone? Where was the Cavalry? A voice in the back of his head whispered in a slimy voice. ‘’You are going to die Asher!’’ and he knew fear. 

With eyes wide open he tried to find a way out. Vix infantry and archers everywhere. Wave after wave of arrows descended all around him. Those where Xavaxian arrows he realized. Why are they firing at him? He looked left and saw enemies converge upon him. Climbing over bodies, pushing through the fading melee. ‘’Sir! We Have to retreat!’’ His captain was shouting at him. ‘’We’ve done what we came to do and more! There is no shame in going back!’’ The captain implored. Asher’s face was troubled. His eyes dark, blood dripping from the side of his face and his left greave still annoying him to no end. ‘’No! We won’t retreat. We have to fight!’’ He locked eyes with the captain and the man bend like a young tree in the wind. ‘’At them! Let them know what happens to those that try to take our home!’’ His heels dug into the sides of his horse and the creature responded.

Riding at the enemy they could see no friends, not left, not right and not behind. At least, for a good long distance. ‘’Yaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!’’ Asher screamed as he raised his sword for the final leg of the charge. His men joined him and the sun of the late afternoon glittered of off their blades. They fought four individual units, all against their one. Men died and while over half of them perished they fought with abandon. In the end the captain gained control over the unit. Not because Asher signalled the retreat but because an arrow had found him in the lower gut. Just above his left thigh. T’was a small arrow but it had been shot from close range and landed just right, if you asked the archer. With pain unmanning him, Asher deferred to his captain and the unit retreated.

As they disengaged and rode for the Xavax warcamp news reached them that the Vix had won the day. Not a single man at arms stood in the end. Not a single horseman. It resulted in a slugfest between archers and the contest very much in the balance for a long time.

So the first battle for the liberation of Isadril concluded. A narrow victory for Vix Tiramora over the attacking forces of Greater Xavax.