NationStates Jolt Archive

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Gespar Leonard looked up from his dark wine, it was bitter almost to the point of vinegar, but it was to the liking of his Semshimistha lord, so he joined him in a glass as they discussed events.

"Ourolus always did overreach himself, send my...congradulations on Easarach's sucession. Pity, he was a strong one, a greater pity that I didn't kill him first. No matter in the long run though." The great figure stretched his scarlet skinned body and smiled, his eyes were the colour of flame.

"Indeed you are correct, Great One. Easarach was his chosen successor though, it made sense the old man would die by his strongest son's talons. What shall we do? Will you challenge Easarach?" Gespar asked, bowing his head.

"No...I'm not just ready yet, Tain isn't ready to succeed me yet and I'd not risk any other taking command of Swordback Peak yet, it's too strong to give." The Kiishra was an impressive example of both his caste and his species, Nungrendal Shrune was twelve feet tall, his hair made a jet-black mane that fell to his shoulders and his body was thick and strong, each arm was corded with muscles that could throttle a bull and his talons were the length of Gespar's little finger, in comparison to the great winged Semshimistha Gespar felt small and weak, even though he was a big man.

"I will return to my wife, if you will, Great One. Tomorrow I will take a hundred Flest-Nain and a dozen Saeli-Nain north to raid for fresh Cesp, our breeding stock is quite depleted and inbreeding would be detrimental. Do I have your permission?" Gespar kept his voice low and unthreatening.

"You have the permission Gespar, do us proud. As you know by now, take the strong, kill the weak without remorse. You're excused," Nungrendal answered, his voice a deep rumble.

Gespar rose and moved out, opening the heavy wooden door and shutting it behind him. Sahadar, Chosen in the language of the Semshimistha. To Gespar it had been a simple matter, he had been a boy when the Saeli Cesp'Lunalt came and said he was worth raising above the level of other humans.
It was a tough choice, to leave his family and friends behind and some had to wait all their lives before being chosen, but in doing so he guaranteed that all his descendants would not live the life of slaves, he was bonded to Nungrendal by blood, barely enough to fill a large spoon when it was mixed into the blood of his arm, but he had felt the effects instantly, undying loyalty to the Great One, to his Master.

It had been twenty years since he had dropped his first name, Leonard Millsman, and adopted the Semshimistha name Gespar. His training as a Sahadar warrior had began the day afterward, furiously training against men who would be his comrades, twenty years since he had donned the black of Sahadar. It had been five years since he found his wife in the slave dens, a third-generation slave she had looked so helpless and vulnerable, but she was strong and his Master had approved the marriage, a year since his son was born. Time meant less to Gespar than it did to others, his bond would enable a life vastly beyond that of others.

It was hard to see humans as something else than his kind, at first it was, but as time passed he slowly saw it happening. They were Cesp, he was Sahadar, they were cast aside because they lacked his strength and skill. Still they were like children who were lost in the night, if they found the strength or the skill they could still be saved.

Gespar straightened his black coat as he moved on, there was work to be done.

(OOC: I have a feeling your expecting me in this rp. Therefore, I'll butt in. I'll provide you with an interesting scenario)

===Meanwhile, in the North===

Two brothers of noble birth walked though a wood, in the southern part of Ligbryne. One stopped, and quickly raised his bow. After a while of aiming, he let the arrow loose, sending it pierced the air, flying toward it's target, a deer. As the arrow inserted itself in the animal's neck, it let off a small cry, before falling to the floor.

"Well done Andefera!"

The one named Andefera proceded toward the downed deer, and hoisted it onto his back.

"Anlaf, we've got our dinner, so will you show me this other present for me?"

"Very well. I won't delay your main present. I assure you, it will finish your coming of age"

Andefera had become sixteen on that very day - the coming of age of a lesser dragon. His brother had taken him out for a early morning hunt. He was looking forward to this 'main present'. In hindsight, the susprise would be fairly clear, but at this age, it was still but a susprise.

The pair returned later that day to a particullary lavish dinner, and as the dinner neared an end, Anlaf stood up, and prepared to make an annoucement;

"My family, we have witnessed to coming of age of one of our kin, and due to that, it only seems right that we should recognise that. So, without futher delay, Andefera, will you close your eyes, and follow me?"

Andefera agreed, and did as he was told. he was led into a room, awaiting his present.

"You can open your eyes now" Said Anlaf

He opened his eyes, and gasped in delight at his present. His own armour.

"And that's not all. Would you like to give this armour a test? I have prepared your very own raid, against a human outpost in the south. I have prepared everything, even your own second in command and bodyguard. He is a very experienced person, and his name is Creccagelade. Though he will advise you on the commands to tell your troops, the day will be very much yours, as long as you listen to him. He knows what he is doing."

The general appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and said to the young noble "I will serve you well, sir." Though it was well hidden, Andefera could sense a trace of contempt. But he was not one to hold a grude.

He spared with his brother before he went to bed, for tomorrow he would march toward his first conflict. The fight was fierce, as Andefera had good stamina, however Anlaf's experience won eventually. "You fought well, brother" was his words. "I'm going to get some sleep now. It is a pity I can't come with you, but it does seem I things to do at the local fort. I suggest you get some sleep also, for tomorrow will be a tiring day."

But before Anlaf went to bed, he stopped at another bedroom, not his own, and knocked the door. The door opened, and Anlaf entered, and said: "My brother may not have much experience, but you will defend him with your life. If you return, but he dosen't, I will take your life personally. Good night."

===The next day===
Andefera donned his armour, black with the ebony used in it's construction. He was standing with his second in command, surounded by bodyguards. He also had some standard troops, and it was likely that some locals with spare time might form a sort of iregular light infantry to raid the village. And he looked back at his brother, he waved, and resumed his march, surounded by a several feet high wall of weapons.

(OOC: and no dragons are present, since this a family thing, and the family aren't greater dragons)

OOC(I'll set the scene and state my numbers)

A village in rolling green kills, lush and peaceful with chickens and cows meandering through fields. On one side the vast corn fields are being tended to by a dozen farmers in wide straw hats. Perhaps four hundred people all-up live in the village, the nearby woods have been cut back and coppiced.

However, the villagers all had a sharp look to their eyes and held their farming tools with the expectation of having to use them in battle. Aside from those doing the everyday work a dozen or more men sat in the town square sharpening woodcutting axes, stone picks and crude pole arms made from scythes.
Life was rough, caught between the Na'Kaeral Semshimistha to the south and the Draconic Union of Lígbryne to the north, it was choice between slavery and death, or just plain death.

Still, it was a jolly day with a marriage coming, the streets were strewn with fresh wild flowers and the people were merry, little did they know that their peace was to be brutally ended in a few short hours...


Gespar lowered his spyglass and grinned ruefully, his long black cloak fluttered behind him in the brisk breeze and the small Rahoom perched on his shoulder nodded in agreement.
Gespar crouched on the top of a scrubby hill, ten miles (16 kilometres) from the town, behind him his small raiding force stood at arms.
A hundred Plest-Nain, Servant-Warriors, human warriors, an Elmar by the Semshimistha measure, they stood in crimson armour, breastplates of steel and leather.
Like all Flest chosen for the task they were strong and disciplined, trained for five years and all had significant battlefield experience, if they proved themselves well they might be raised to Sahadar one day.
Each Plest-Nain was given a long sword, a crimson shield; round and edged with the strongest of steel and either a steel-armed crossbow or a seven-foot long spear, each man was dressed in dark scarlet with an enamelled steel breastplate and boiled leather armour.

Ten of his fellow Sahadar stood watch over them, each dressed in midnight-black and each with Yeffel hide and steel armour, also enamelled black, the Sahadar also wielded a mix of weapons, some going for two-handed great swords and others going for axes or maces.

Still Gespar knew they weren't the true strength of his army, that would be the Krell of Saeli warriors, only nine in number but each one worth at least five soldiers.
No two Saeli were exactly the same but they shared some common garb; each wore thick trousers made of animal hide and each wore belts with loops for weapons, they all moved barefoot and all wore a thick hide tunic. Aside from that..some wore cloaks, others bracers, some wielded massive axes with blades counterbalanced with wicked spikes, others wielded long serrated and barbed swords or large cleaver-like weapons, one even carried a long heavy-bladed lance.

The Saeli themselves varied too, some had long hair and others short, some had horns or bony spikes and others did not, some hand tails, some had talons instead of claws, some had protruding fangs..they all had huge wings though, heavily muscled and covered with a thick layer of bone-like material.

"All right then warband, let us claim us some fresh Flest to be made into Cesp, you all know the standard order of operations. If they look strong capture them if possible, if they are weak then kill them. We will advance in five columns, four columns of twenty Plest-Nain and two Sahadar-Nain and the last will be the Saeli-Nain and the remaining two Sahadar-Nain, I will move with this group. Stay in visual distance of each other as we move in and attack the town from as many angles as possible. Forward the Talons of Nungrendal!" Gespar's voice echoed faintly in the hollow and the troops responded with a wordless battle-cry and quickly moved forward, quickly divided off into their divisions and marching on in orderly lines.

Meanwhile, Creccagelade was viewing the scene before him, though from an angle so he could not see the approaching enemies from the other side.

"Well, sir, it does seem this may be a walk-over" he said to Andefera.

"How many troops do we have?"

"Well, we have seventity five soldiers, though if the fight goes well, that lot over there might join in" He pointed to nowhere in particular.

"Who?"

"There are a load of young farmers over there, looking for a quick raid without having to join the army. This usually happens. It's good, as not only do we get light backup, but after a taste of human blood they should enlist."

Andefera looked toward the village.

"There are a number of them in there..." he commented.

"Don't worry. They are but farmers. We, on the other hand, are proper soldiers. Not only do you have those 75 standard troops with you, but you also have six bodyguards, including myself. Plus, we have assembled a war machine to burn those piles of mud they call houses to the ground. A fire breathing machine, of sorts. 'Should scare them silly. I advise we order the soldiers into three groups, of twenty five each. We'll form a phalax, twenty soldiers holding the line, and five with bows. If we enter the village, our 'backup' will swarm in to grab anything they can, hopefully killing some humans in the process."

"Very well, that is what we shall do. I suppose we will watch for flankers?"

"'Shouldn't worry about that. They are but villagers. No, we will guard the war machine. Well, let's get back to the men, shall we?"

"Yes, yes we will."

"Don't worry, once you get into it, you'll love it."

Andefera arived at the camp where his soldiers stayed. They had already reformed. We saw the three groups, each with twenty Lorgs (a combination of pikes, halbelds and billhooks), and ebony alloy armour, ready to be readied at a moments notice. Most of them were experienced, as could be told by at least some gold triming. His guard wore ebony armour, gold trimmed in most places. as did himself. As ebony was a black substance, it gave all the armour in the raiding party a black colour, the only thing distingusing them from the other party on the other side of town a slightly gold outline, their body shape and their weapons. As he gave the order to march, so did the other party twenty miles away. The small village would soon be faced, literally, with horrid slavery to the south, and horrid death in the north.

(OOC: And the followers will run if things don't go well either. Keep in mind the sight of my soldiers will unnerve some humans. But your lot seem disaplined enough not to run easily, as are mine. And ebony alloy armour basically means steel with a bit of ebony added. It's not a invicible metal, just a pretty hard one.)

A mile remained and Gespar peaked out of the cover of the woodlands, the sun was still on high, three or four hours of light left.

Each of the columns of men, Plest-Naphon by the Semshimistha way of naming, was moving forward, any second now the village would notice them. The Plest-Nain were slaves, but they were as hard as any man they might face. The plan was simple, move in, strike hard, take the strong and kill the weak. Villagers couldn't provide much resistance and the Plest crossbowmen all had their first bolt wrapped in oil-soaked cloth.

Then Gespar saw it, the bells began to ring and cries of alarm were raised as the crimson-clothed soldiers moved in, already unloading crossbows and beginning to reload for another round, the thatch on the village began to smoulder, the spearmen moved forward, led by the black-coated Sahadar, they'd be the ones to actually capture enemies, usually by clubbing them unconscious with their spear-butts or the nearest heavy blunt object.

Gespar nodded to himself and stood, the Saeli behind him letting out a second wordless cry as they lunged forward, as they sprinted forward they unlimbered their weapons, they would personally be able to gain favour by capturing the best slaves.

Ahead he saw a Plest-Nain club an axe-wielding man to the ground before striking him across the face with his spear-butt, on one side a Sahadar mercilessly cut down two weedy boys wielding hunting spears, a bag man pounced on a Plest-Nain trying to wrest the crimson soldiers weapon from him, a moment later his face exploded in a violent flower of blood as a crossbow bolt tore it asunder.

Gespar unsheathed his sword in a business-like manner before striding forward, shadowed by his two Sahadar comrades, ahead he could already see the fires spreading.

(Well...Plest-Nain of this area are familiar with Dragon-kind, although they are rare occurences. If they were Southerners they'd be more surprised, but they wouldn't think about breaking until Sahadar and Saeli start to die, and even then most of them would have to be dead before they'd dare.)

(OOC: Mind if I slip in a few Three Lanterners into the conscripted villages?)

OOC: You mean on his side or mine? In this specific battle Plest-Nain (slave soldiers) are all loyal veterans, plus it is such a small and insignificant battle I don't know why you'd bother...On Wecca's side though...I'll let him answer.

(OOC: Actually, I think they'd be sorta third party, interested in the continued survival of their 'charges'. A unit of Red Lighters and maybe a couple of Yellow Lighters. Nothing like a major movement, though. No Elite forces or Blue Lighters to be seen here.

Just a bunch of vigilantes who've moved into the area, but they're definitely a far stronger resistance than just a bunch of farmers.

Basically, a small scale resistance against both sides, unless one can guarantee that the villagers won't be enslaved or killed, in which case they'd be prepared to take sides.)

OOC: well I don't mind, except where would they be coming from smack-bang on the frontier between our two nations?
Also, since both of us are doing this with the intention of having a good ol' brawl...I think not in this battle. If you want I can arrange an ambush of a raiding party for the next event though? A few Espent slavers coming in to steal women to please their lord, somehow Yellow Lighters catch wind of it and send some Red Lghters to protect the village...?
I'm thinkin' something small with only a dozen or so participants per side?
Hmmm, we might want to do this by TG if you want to organise it further so as to not clutter the thread with too much OOC between action.

(OOC: Probably just from the villagers, I suppose. Very much a token force, and probably below par, due to it not being a current trouble area, though close enough to one that there could be a safehouse there.

Maybe round up a few of the peasants, put up some sort of fight against both sides before being crushed between them. Perhaps try to evacuate some of the villages...

They'd still be relatively good (Well, compared to peasants, if nothing else), though, as they have proper weapons and they're trained in them.)

OOC: Strength isn't the issue, I'm just saying that's there's no reason for Three Lighter's to be around here as it is a secluded Nowheresvill with a fly speck population.
However, if it means THAT MUCH too you then fine, I'll give you your scenario...
In the town's single tavern there are a few Three Lighter's personnel, sent here to spy on the happenings between the active Semshimsitha/ Dragon-kind border, also as it is a border they figured that the chances of a discovery would be small.

Now the town is under attack and amidst the flames and war cries they recognise Semshimistha warriors closing in from one side, desperately they take up arms to try to ensure some villagers make it out alive and escape Semshimistha slavery, at the same time they prepare to fight their own way out. Remember that the town is in chaos, so a lot of people will be panicked.
Lastly, you have a few Three Lighters personnel (three or four, no more) and maybe a dozen or two of the local militia.

I'm telling you right now, chances are your going to get cut down pretty fast, but feel free to put up a bit of resistance, take down a few Plest-Nain or a Sahadar, maybe flee into the Dragon-kind's oncoming force and maybe a couple of men might be able to escape capture, y'know, role-play a bit of resistance if you want.

(OOC: I suppose it is a little out of the way. We'll go with that. Three or four sounds about right.

I was under the impression that it was a small region, but what the heck. I hadn't realised it was only one dinky little village. :rolleyes:

Which was why I said a group at first.

I'll just say it's a yellow and a red then.)

Ferngeld was polishing his counter when a young boy burst into the tavern.

"Semshimishta!" he cried, and the barkeep leapt to his feet immediately.

"Not here! Alright, you heard him! We have to get everybody out!" yelled Ferngeld, but it was too late. His patrons had already begun to panic. He reached into his coat and took out his liberator, embedding into the table with a thud, and the gleaming topaz immediately caught everybody's eye.

"A yellow lighter!" exclaimed someone, recognising the symbol.

"Alright, listen up. We've got maybe thirty minutes before they get here. Get everybody you can, we're going to make a run for it."

Whipped into action by the presence of a Yellow Lighter, the patrons began to pile out, running to their homes to get their weapons. Ferngeld took down the sword hanging behind the counter, and undid the strings holding it in its scabbard.

One of the patrons remained behind, the village grocer. "A little rash, wasn't it, Ferngeld?"

"We don't have time, Raghar. Get your crossbow, we're going to try and make a run for it."

The red lighter left the tavern, as Ferngeld looked over the tavern he had built and owned for years. It was a shame that it would need to be burned, now. Raghar would need to destroy his store, too. Taking out a prepared bottle of alchemist's fire, he threw it into the middle, leaving as the oil ignited and began to eat at the flooring.

---

Outside, what villagers could be found in those few minutes were gathered, some of the clutching makeshift weapons. Raghar had emerged from his home, carrying a crossbow and his knife openly on his belt.

"We're going to try and make a run for the north. Everybody, move!" yelled Raghar, trusting in the reputation of the Red Lighters to get them motivated.

The thirty-odd peasants who could be gathered began to flee, led by Ferngeld while Raghar desperately tried to round up as many of the confused peasants as possible.

(OOC: Heh, now you see why I was so surprised you wanted in so much?
BTW, my post detailed the start of the attack on the village, so yeah, they're already attacking the southern half (I estimate 50-100 houses). It's funny that you should run north, as that means they're charging right-on into Dragon-kind, but I assume you meant to do that. I'd post IC, but I'm tired right now and waiting for Wecca to post his side of the attack, don't want to get too far ahead.)

(OOC: I see *now*. Still, the desperate attempts to escape will work. That, or bargaining.

Yeah. They'll probably run straight into them, realise the dragonkin are there, and fall back to a building.

Maybe even go through the 4 stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargianing, and uh... dying?)

(OOC: Yeah, the situation is that he wants to enslave the villagers and I want to kill them and nick their possesions, and mess up the town a bit, as will be seen in this post.)

Andefera and Creccagelade came closer to the town, until, without being seen, the bells were rung, indicating inv asion. Andefera gave the order for the soldiers to start marching quickly, and as they neared the town limits, arrows started flying, but less than they would expect normally. Not thinking too much of it, the soldiers marched on, their Lorgs still pointed skyward, waiting for the order to present arms, and the bows ready to shoot any spare villagers.

One of their main targets was the church. Not only would plenty of villagers be praying to false gods there – there was plenty of gold ornaments for plundering. As they began to enter the village, Creccagelade began to worry. He could hear plenty of distant screaming, but the real slaughter had not even started yet. But that fact would soon no longer be valid.

As the machine neared a house, a lever was pulled, billows pumped, and out came a jet of burning liquid, that set the building on fire, archers included.

Andefera looked back, and saw some figures running toward the town, with farm weapon, torch and even the odd sword. They would burn the town to the ground as the soldiers advanced. If the raid went well, that is. He drew his sword – it was a sword quite different from the human ones – it split at the end, and each end double-backed to form twin scythes. This sword wasn't for stabbing – it was for ripping and tearing. And there were always his claws.

Each of his soldiers had one of these, as well as a small shield. The reason he didn't have one was because ebony was quite a heavy metal. Though not nearly as heavy as lead, the ebony alloy armour of the solders meant that their armour protected less, was cheaper, but also lighter. This allowed them to carry more equipment. Of course, his bodyguard were seasoned veterans -they were worth more than a standard soldier for strength alone.

They neared the church, their first target. A milita had already formed to protect the service inside. A horn sounded – the order to present lorgs. Seventy-five soldiers began to surround the guard, and it was not long before a semi-circle of spikes surrounded the villagers. As this happened, on of the houses overlooking the square burst into flames, seemingly for no reason. The guard were also a bit small for their purpose. 'No matter' thought Creccagelade 'No tactics will save them now'. The Semicircle began to shrink...

The semi circle was much smaller now, and suddenly, one of the younger ones started banging on the church doors.

"Let us in! They've surrounded us! They're about to...

For the second time, the horn sounded. The banging stopped, and for the people inside the chapel, things were deathly quiet.

Outside, the fire machine neared the door. The billows began to pump again, and a jet of flame poured onto the door. The bodies were already beginning pulled away, the fat ones getting priority. As the door burned, it collapsed, leaving the people inside to the Ligbrynian's mercy.

They got none.

The floor of the church was red after the attack. And as the priest fell, the last to die, a pack of Ligbrynian farmer boys ran into the square, too late to fight. However, their work was not finished here yet. 'What is the point of a sack, without leaving more than just bodies to remind them you were here?' was their idealogy. And they got straight on it.

Some plundered the nearby houses. Others carried off the bodies for later. Some burnt everything they saw. One even started painting 'The Red Eye' all over the square. Two lads in particular ran up the steple, carring a piece of black cloth, one hammer and two large nails. The result was a large black banner on the steple, with the red eye itself on it. But as the two boys began to desend the tower, one saw the rest of the town.

They wern't the only ones here. The southerners were here as well*.

Meanwhile, the soldiers had already readied themselfs to continue their march through the town. And as the horn sounded a thrid time, that's what they did.

(OOC: Your go. If you want us to make contact, go for it. If you don't, that's fine.

*In other words, you. If you are from Northern England, you might even find this funny. Oh, and my soldiers don't know your here yet.

Feel free to say where my soldiers are, within reason, and remember not to tell me my losses. This is to both of you, though Hak, keep in mind I've got iregulars burning down the village in the north.)

Gespar parried a man's axe-blow and struck him in the side of the head with the pommel of his sword, the man collapsed unconscious and Gespar bound his wrists quickly with a thick length of cord, a big Plest-Nain came and picked the man up and threw him into the cleared square behind them, a couple of dozen villages lay bound, watched over by one Plest-Naphon, with their Sahadar commanders, the the spear men and crossbowmen in a loose circle around the prisoners.

One dark-skinned man stood and tried to dash out of the circle, the nearest crimson dressed Plest-Nain swung his spear haft into the man's midsection, the man fell to his knees, the air knocked out of him, before the Plest-Nain booted him heavily in the chest, sending him sprawling back.

To one side a Saeli warrior armed with two great axes hacked his way through two men, limbs and slabs of flesh painting the nearby walls a horrid crimson, they were too thin and weak to be taken as slaves, in total more than a hundred villagers had been hewn apart.

On another side an old man lunged out of a half-collapsed doorway, striking a Sahadar-Nain in the chest with a scythe. but the blow lacked the strength to penetrate his breastplate and the Sahadar beheaded the man with a back-handed blow from his blade.

All around smoke and char filled the sky, the small village was well and truly aflame. A moment passed and the Rahroom on Gespar's should gave a chitter and pointed, down the cobbled street other figures could be seen, Gespar recognised them from a previous encounter he'd had once, they were Dragon-kind, the lesser sort, Ces'Niijing.

"Yuryk!" Gespar shouted and the Rahoom on his shoulder gave its highest-pitch wail, beyond human hearing but the Saeli heard it and came running, the three Naphon of Plest-Nain lead by Sahadar quickly reformed into battle formation.

"Ces'Niijing! Numbers unknown, other side of the town, Rakk e' Jael! kill them!" Gespar ordered roughly and the men marched forward in formation, spear men first, thirty strong, crossbowmen second, same strength, with Sahadar standign ready to take the palce of any Plest-Nain who fell. As soon as the enemy was within crossbow range the entire fron line would kneel to enabvle the crossbowmen to fire and then stand to take the enemy with their spears while the Plest-Nain crossbowmen reloaded.

The Saeli moved forward at a faster rate, but were careful not to out distance their support, without order they ducked into the ruins of buildings to one side, still moving forward, it was part of the plan, when enemies met the wall of spearmen the Saeli would come out of the ruins and catch the Ces'Niijing in a pincer between Plest-Nain and Saeli. It was a common manoeuvre. called Rakk e' Jael or (Palm and Fist) and one that was done almost by instinct. Fighting Ces'Niijing was all about staying together, they were not disorganised rabble, so they had to be dealt with as soldiers.

Gespar stood in the ranks of the crossbowmen, as the line had formed around him he was in the middle, without further word the force marched forward to confront their newly discovered enemy.

(Ball is in your court again, you can go straight to the encounter or rp my troops getting spotted and your guys getting into formation. A Plest crossbow has the range of about 150-200 yards, but is only really accurate at ninety at most, the main focus of the crossbow is force and they can punch through a steel breastplate with ease, of course you also have to remember that it takes fifty second for a Plest-Nain to reload a crossbow.

Just so you know, you won't have to worry about Saeli javelins as they have already been used.)

(OOC: I'll let you take one of my groups)

One of the three groups marched down a narrow street, confident in it's sucessful taking of the church. As they turned a corner, they saw the line of spears with the crossbowman.

The ringleader shouted "Present arms and shields, crossbowman ahead!"

The first volley was mostly caught by the shields, except for two poor soldiers, who took bolts in the chest. What then came back was five arrows. As the soldiers neared, their Lorgs pointed at the spearmen, another volley came. As they began the clash, Saeli soldiers began to sneak up on the group, who had kept their eyes on the enemy in front of them.

(Ok, feel free to dictate how you take out most of this group, but leave the ringleader for now. I'm not too bothered about this group. And don't forget the arrows, and our swords, and the inexperience of this group.)

As the Ces'Njiing entered range the spearmen knelt and the crossbow bolts were loosed, the first volley was rather ineffective and the return fire took one crossbowman in the throat, he let out a burbling scream and fell to the ground twitching. A Plest-Nain spear men let out a guttural curse and grasped his shoulder where an arrow had bitten deep, but the other arrows had been effectively blocked.

Then the battle was on, polearms struggling against spears and shields, one Plest-Nain gave a shout as one of the enemy's blades slipped off his shield and opened a wound in his thigh, but the Plest-Nain had the advantages of numbers and experience.

Within the first few minutes the Plest-Nain had began to push the Ces'Njiing back, occasionally one would fall with a spear wound, some threw down their pole arms and charged with wicked scythe-like swords, however as they began to move forward a roar sounded as the Saeli burst out of the wreckage of a thatched house and careened into the side of the formation.

The Saeli fought like the devils they were, using their large armoured wings to block polearm thrusts and responding with their weapons, they wreaked havoc on the Ces'Njiing line, one used his Vrashal sword to brutally saw through a Ces'Njiing, armour and all, another used his wings to swat two to the ground the gleefully trampled them to death. In the face of the fierce attack the Ces'Njiing began to panic.

Nevertheless some of the Ces'Njiing kept fighting, one managed to hew through a Plest-Nain's shield and strike him across the torso, hitting a flaw in the armour and opening up his side, only to be cut down by Gespar, who lunged his long blade through the creatures neck and booted him to the ground.

A Sahadar barked "Rushkia!" and the Plest-Nain spearmen ducked low as their crossbow counterparts opened fire again, this time more Ces'Njiing fell due to their loosening organisation.

The it was over, a few Ces'Njiing were left running and the others lay dead and dying around them.

Gespar took quick stock of the situation, a few Plest-Nain lay dying, a few more were wounded and were quickly being given attention. One Saeli warrior felt his left shoulder where a shallow wound was dripping a tiny stream of blood, before his eyes the stream stopped.

In total it had been a good battle, five Plest-Nain were dead and as many again wounded, not bad for skirmishes with Ces'Njiing, but they were an inexperienced lot. Gespar had seen much worse in his day.

The wounded broke off under the supervision of a Sahadar as they headed back to the spare Naphon, they could still do some work there.

"Do you think that is all of them, Elrij?" Gespar asked as he scanned the street ahead.

The big crimson Saeli felt his axe and grinned, "not likely. A small raiding party like that is possible, but I heard horns and none of the men here had them. "

Gespar nodded, "We'll continue forward, if we meet any more we'll kill them too. The Talons are bloodied and they will soak yet more in the blood of the Ces'Njiing today!" The Saeli responded with savage cries and the Plest-Nain took up the chant as they began to move forward in much the same as their original formation, except with Saeli and Sahadar mixed in with the Plest Spearmen.

(OOC: That's not too bad, all things considered. You can decide if you encounter the force, leave or take on Hak and then leave/encounter. I'd say an encounter with Hak is likely, whereas you might not necessarily want to fight with a strong force of organised men, then again, you might.

Hell, we could even make this interesting and have Hak try to get to a stronghold/safehouse in your land, while I track him, your force notices mine still following and attacks in greater numbers, and I get to retreat!
Or you could just pull out and me and Hak duke it out in the charred remains of the city, you can pretty much decide by your next post.

(OOC: That's not too bad, all things considered. You can decide if you encounter the force, leave or take on Hak and then leave/encounter. I'd say an encounter with Hak is likely, whereas you might not necessarily want to fight with a strong force of organised men, then again, you might.

Hell, we could even make this interesting and have Hak try to get to a stronghold/safehouse in your land, while I track him, your force notices mine still following and attacks in greater numbers, and I get to retreat!
Or you could just pull out and me and Hak duke it out in the charred remains of the city, you can pretty much decide by your next post.

(OOC: I'll go with the second-last option, but I have another thing in mind as well)

Seven Lesser Dragons entered the square after the battle had finished. Each one had darker armour than the ones lying on the floor, with a lot of golden gilding, that seemed to shimer like it was golden blood flowing though golden veins. Five of them had very long Lorgs, that also had this effect. These five also had the same scythe-like swords that the dead had. Compostite bows were also straped to their backs. They were the elite.

Their objective was to guard Creccagelade Aþaeweariaen, the Thrid Officer of the Campwudu Huscals, and more importantly, Andefera Campwudu, the second son of the Campwudu. This was ment to be a harmless raid to mark his coming of age. But Dragon blood had been split. Creccagelade knew what was goin on in Andefera's head. He would want revenge. But it would bring only more death, and possilbe his capture...

"They will pay for this!" he shouted. One of the guard took a look around. He had seen this many times before. One side had stabbed in the back Lesser Dragons. The other side had much more interesting corpses.

"Looks like a case of Palm and Fist, sir. The Suiddaekmoana are here. I can't find the ringleader though. If I know him well enough, he's going to feel gulity about this. He's going to get himself killed or captured!"

"Then we will face them off! Gather the troops! We will find the..."

"Sir, we can't. They might have had from Fifty to Five Hundred! We must get help!"

"Who's in charge here? I am. You follow my orders. We will face them."

Creccagelade was relucent. That group was the most inexperienced of the lot - raw recuits - whereas the other two had had experience, and so had he. He knew the Palm and Fist. If he guarded his flank, he could face of the Saeli who would attack. But it was still not his choice.

"Very well, but if you get dragged in irons to Gazam Doth, kicking and screaming, it's not my bloody fault." Creccagelade replied

"What's the worst they can do?" said Andefera

Creccagelade thought to himself - he didn't know. Few, if any lesser dragons were captured by the Seshimistha. But he could tell it wouldn't be nice.

He mustered the other two groups in the square, and ordered them into the best palm and fist counter he could do with the 56 troops he had at his disposal, and gave the order to march to where the Seshimistha would have gone next.

(OOC: ...and the ball's back in your court. Basically, he's got his flank covered with a phalax, and the elites will reneforce any side that needs it. In other words, you've got a hard fight on your hands, though it isn't invincible. And by the way, what would happen to the average Ces'Njiing captive?

And although these troops won't catch you Hak, then you can rp trying to get past the milita in the north, still having full burning down the village)

OOC: Many things might happen, he could get eaten, killed or sent to any amount of unsavoury jobs, mining Saelifa ore in terrible heat, gloom and razor-edged rocks might be a quick way of describing it.
Basically it'll be bad, but I'll put information up on the conditions of Cesp/slaves in Semshimistha lands on my factbook either later today or sometime tomorrow.

...one thing, you do remember that I posted that this time the rank was moving as a solid? That is, in formation before they assumed Rakk e' Jael formation, just making sure...

IC:
Gespar continued the march, sixty-seven warriors in all, he thought that his men could fight on equal terms with well-trained Ces'Njiing, if they didn't outnumber him, and that was a big if.

Once again the if's were worrying, if the group was too large they'd be able to spot it, but it only took a dozen or so men more and it might lose Gespar the battle.
If the enemy soldiers were too well equipped then Gespar could lose a lot more than just his pride, If the enemy was waiting to ambush them...

The Ces'Njiing were considerably formidable and not enemies to underestimate, but at the same time they were prone to mistakes, just as he was, moreover if he was lucky they wouldn't even know he was around.

The Rahoom on Gespar's soldier let out a tweet and he concentrated on the direction it pointed to with one little pale arm, "Ces'Njiing?" Gespar asked softly and the little Semshimistha nodded, too close to prepare an ambush.

"Ces'Njiing Uragh! Talons to the defence!" Gespar yelled and the Plest-Nain lifted shields in unison, the Sahadar took their own dark shields off their backs and held them in front, forming a shield wall, the Saeli each extended one massive wing over their body to protect from arrows as they moved forward, the distance between the two forces was perhaps three hundred paces and narrowing.

"Plest-Shien, prepare to let fly!" Gespar ordered as he watched the enemy, almost as many as Gespar's own force, slightly smaller maybe, it was going to be hell.

The distance was just over two hundred paces now, "Plest-Shien let fly!" Gespar ordered and the force sunk down to avoid stray shots, at the same time as arrows were let loose from the Ces'Njiing line the Plest-Nain's Shien crossbows hummed as they released their bolts.

(you can rp some of the battle, it'll probably be a pretty grindy-type thing given that it is in confined quarters with mainly polearms. Just remember that as this is a main battle it'll take a few posts to finish.)

(OOC: This would take place... Well, near the church, I suppose. Feel free to redefine if you wish.)

The little convoy continued rushing north, when Ferngeld spotted the Ligbrynian auxilaries, burning

"Lizardmen!" he cried, knowing that with only a few exceptions, the Ligbrynians were here to kill.

The militia stopped in its tracks, and Raghar came to the front. "Scales. We're going to have to fight our way out."

The red lighter looked behind him, and took note of how many looked able to fight.

"Alright, I'll try to pick off a few from here. Everybody find cover."

The villagers quickly moved behind various obstacles, as did the two Lantern members. Raghar raised his crossbow and levelled it at the head of one of the more enthusiastic arsons. "This is for the people you've killed." he muttered, squeezing the trigger.

One of the Ligbrynian farmers was wandering around the square, with a farming billhook in hand, wondering if what he had seen was true. If he had really seen Semshimistha, then they would have a big fight on their hands. Maybe it was just standard human soldiers, but if it wasn't...

Just as he thought that, a crossbow bolt erupted though his chest, pieceing one of his lungs. Grabbing at the bolt, he fell to the ground. He saw his brother run other.

"What happened?"

Hardly able to speak, he struggled to say "Over...There...He...Shot... Me...Crossbow..."

The incident had attacted a small crowd. As the dieing brother pointed roughly at where the attack had come from, another bolt planted itself in a nearby onlooker, pieceing his arm. With this second attack, the onlooking crowd had turned into a two dozen strong armed mob, armed with sword, knife, billhook, torch and even rudimenty grenades. As one of them ran, another started to run, and before long the entire mob was running at where the bolts had come from...

"We're as good as dead anyway! Charge!" yelled Ferngeld, raising his sword and unsheathing his dagger.

Something about the combination of the presence of two Three Lanterns members and the knowledge that there was no escaping this galvanised the scared villagers with their improvised weaponry into a desperate fury.

Raghar raised his crossbow again and fired another bolt, before drawing his dagger and charging with the rest of the twenty-odd miniature militia.

Mere anger had nothing on desperation, the wild eyed townsfolk having nothing left to lose and everything to gain, leaping over obstacles and grabbing anything looking even vaguely weapon-like from the streets.

As the two dozen Librynian mob desended onto the milita, yet another bolt came from the enemy position, and embedded itself in one of the auxillery's legs, causing him to fall over. The charge didn't stop, however, and the mob got nearer and nearer, until one of them thrusted his billhook into the direction of Ferngeld...

(OOC: Sorry, can't think of anything else to put. That'll have to do for now

And a couple of things for Uldarius - where are your troops? And that flamethrower thing is still in use by the soldiers.)

OOC: Well right now they are...approximately two-hundred paces in front of your troops. By the fact you'd crossed paths with them I'd say this is beginning to get into the (rather) undamaged eastern quarter.

I'd expect the flamer-thing to be destroyed by some crazy Saeli in the first few minutes, who'll probably leap on it and hack it apart with an axe and in doing so cook himself into Saeli Fritters, which incidentally go great with avocado dip, but after so long of use how much fuel could it have left (thinks about the machine exploding and killing several friend and foe alike)

(OOC: I've only really used it twice, so it should have a good amount left. That be great addition to my idea of a end to this. Right then, I'll just post my reaction)

"Hold the line! Present arms, prepare shields!" Shouted one of the Bodyguards, who had become temporary officers in this fight. They would not only give orders, but they would keep the soldiers in line. They could tell what had happened at the other skirmish - the soldiers and broken ranks and charged at the enemy. This time, the phalax was much better displined, and would not break rank until the fight was finished. Twenty Lorgs pointed toward the front, fifteen toward the back. In the middle of this was the commander, some archers and the noble. Standards flew the flag of the Campwudu family. Despite Creccagelade's protests, Andefera had deemed it nesscary to annonce himself to the opposing side.

As the first volley of crossbow bolts flew toward the advancing line, two soldiers fell. 'There's always two...' thought Creccagelade, as two soldiers took their place.

The objective was to advance the line, until the enemy were within range of the flamethower. The soldiers guarding that part of the line would get out of the way, and, ideally at least, the liquid flame releashed by it would torch most of the line. Their main problem was suicide Saeli, and Creccagelade knew it. That would be countered by the bodyguard's long Lorgs, and the archers. At least, they would try. He did not know how many of them were here, just that there were.

"Archers, fire!" The first volley was sent to the enemy. Although crossbows were powerful, they just wern't fast enough. So, the small compostite bows that his party had could spray many more arrows than the enemy could. Whether they would hit them, or even penetrate them, was the main problem. Another was released, as the lesser dragons got closer and closer to the Seshimestha.

(OOC: Your go. Sorry for the late reply, but somehow I didn't see that last post of yours. And be forewarned that sometimes, though I may appear online, I'm actually not. This problem is usually at the weekends, though)

(OOC: I'll RP a hit on the front guy, if only because it makes it easier to narrate and it falls well within 'reasonable casualties'.)

As the two dozen Librynian mob desended onto the milita, yet another bolt came from the enemy position, and embedded itself in one of the auxillery's legs, causing him to fall over. The charge didn't stop, however, and the mob got nearer and nearer, until one of them thrusted his billhook into the direction of Ferngeld...

And was caught on the Liberator Key, the dagger's steel handle pushing away the farming implement downwards, opening the one in the front to the decidedly more deadly sword.

Ferngeld quickly seized his advantage, impaling the farmer with his blade and lifting him slightly into the air before ripping the sword out, just as the rest made contact.

It was a whirling melee, desperate villagers armed with all manner of sharp and blunt instruments, Raghar with his dagger, and Ferngeld with the sword.

(OOC: Now, we'll say there's a 1 in 2 chance for any given militiaman to be killed... so, I'll roll a 1,048,576 sided die to determine my overall losses. Resolve yours based on a twenty strong force, not however many are left, because we can assume that since the melee is happening very fast, it's practically simultaneous.

518,902. Now, based on a CumSum of 20C[0,20], that means... 10 losses.)

In the brutal melee, 10 of the desperate villagers were variously killed, run through and impaled, and were open for descriptive deaths.

The two Three Lanterners were still up and about though, cutting through their foes like there was no tomorrow. In fact, if they didn't there would be no tomorrow, at least for them.

(OOC: it's cool, I know the problems. I'm just not sure that you're flame-thrower would be such a good idea in close-quarters.)

As the arrows began to pour down on the Semshimsitha line the Plest-Nain raised their shields, one man fell with a cry as an arrow slid past his shield and struck a vein in his neck, but for the most part the Plest-Nain had caught swing of the way Ces'Njiing arrows were used and the approximate target area, so any arrows the weren't stopped by the shields were stopped by the armour, still there were some cases, as the second volley loose a Plest-Nain cursed as an arrow bit into his shield arm.

Gespar narrows his eyes at the large machine in the Ces'Njiing line, he had not seen its like, but he knew it would be trouble.

"Jaes, Kullim, Vestle, Araga, destroy that machine!" Gespar ordered and the four named Saeli tucked their wings in front of them, like the huge bony shields they were so often used for, and charged the line where the war machine rested, the remain five Saeli in the line bransished their weapons and immitated their comrades, shielding themselves with their wings, but continued forward at the same rate as the Plest-Nain, every now and then an arrow would skitter allow the hard bony surface of their wings, one arrow flew low and stabbed in the tough flesh of one Saeli's thigh, but he merely broke it off and continued the march.

The possibility of the attacking Saeli having their wings being broken was there, but mere steel polearms would be unlikely to do more than cosmetic damage the natural shielding of the Semshimistha's wings, a heavy implement like a war hammer or mace would have greater chances, or a polearm on full swing, but in the tightly packed ranks on either side there wasn't enough room for that.

As the third volley was loosed no Plest-Nain were claimed, the fourth brought a few pained curses from injured Plest-Nain, but they kept marching nonetheless.

At the opposing line the Saeli leapt forward, arrows still bouncing off their wings, one mistimed his leap and almost cleared the line of polearmed Ces'Njiing in front of the machine, before snagging his foot on a hook and crashed into their ranks.

The three other Saeli all used their wings as massive battery rams, slamming into the line and pushing them away, making good use of their superior strength, one, armed with a eleven foot long bladed Lungren Lance opened his wings and thrust the bladed weapon straight throw the soldier in front of him, before the next flight of arrows left him stumbling back, his skin not quite tough enough to stop them yet.

The Ces'jiing line exploded as the Saeli who landed in the line moments earlier forced his way to his feat, using his wings as massive cugels to beat Ces'Njiin away and his large, heavy-bladed Le'sha to break the hafts of the polearms thrust at him, still he had been hit many time and blood was flowing from several wounds, he wouldn't last long.

The last two Saeli crashed through the line, and while one began to lay about with it's Vaisa Axe the other used it's Yaab Mace to smash against the machine, trying to break it apart.

Then the massive war machine began to rumble as the Semshimsitha line came within fifty paces, a gout of flame burst forth from it and the Semshimistha in front let out a wail as he fell back, covered in liquid fire, with a Herculean effort the Saeli took to his feet and crossed his wings in front of his body and his arms in front of his face, the river of fire slammed against him and he stood his ground, the fire was so hot that the flesh began to melt of his arms, an arrow struck his wings, embedding itself in the fire-softened tissue and igniting.

The Semshimsitha force was thirty paces now, another volley of arrows struck their line, taking another red-coated form, but their own crossbows had been reloaded by now and the line bowed briefly to allow their response to fire.

On top of the fire-machine the Saeli finally succeeded in beating the nozzle shut and twisted with his Yaab Mace, before he resumed striking the big machine with his mace again, aiming to break as much as possible.

The Saeli warrior who had been standing in the flame for so long gave an exhausted bark and fell to his knees, fire still alight on his body as he collapsed, liquefied flesh sloughing off around him.

Gespar silently hoped he was in some better place as the Semshimistha line closed with the Ces'Njiing.

(How was that, three Saeli and I'd say four Plest-Nain lost. I tried not to be too godmoddy but we sorta have to do this a bit or the posts would be short and boring. I assumed your flame-thrower uses something similar to napalm to operate, I'd like to point out that it is now out of the battle, but you can say it explodes if you want, or not, either way is fine by me. )

Creccagelade hated Saeli. There were weapons that could easily take them out in the Ligbrynian armoury, but he never had them when they were around. In dieing they had fallen on a lot of his troops, and they had destroyed his flamethrower. He checked the length of his Lorgs – (OOC: I need to know how long your pikes/spears are in comparison to mine). Just as he did this, the crossbows were fired again, and claimed one soldier.

He then saw a spare sword lying around, and then looked at the Saeli trying to pull apart the machine. He had just had one of the best ideas in his lifetime.

He dropped his lorg, took his sword and the one on the floor, climbed onto the machine, taking care not to be spotted by the Saeli, then jumped onto it's back, and dug in the points of his sword, dug his heel claw into the creature, getting a good grip on it, and started tearing at it's neck with his teeth, giving the order "Reform and regroup! Anyone breaks ranks, you have me to answer to!"

As the group reformed, Andefera appeared at the back of the new phalanx, with his five bodyguards, shouting curses at the enemy. As the two sides came ever closer, this time several paces in between them, the archers let off another volley, leaving Creaccagelade several paces behind fighting with the Saeli.

(OOC: Okay, we're about to engage in a melee. Now, keep in mind my lot have good armour, shields, teeth and talons, so you have quite a fight on your hands. Then I can finish this post.

As for Hak, I think you may have routed my farmers, but I think one of your lads needs to at least be wounded. We need to sort that out before I rp that thing.)

(OOC: Now, we'll say there's a 1 in 2 chance for any given militiaman to be killed... so, I'll roll a 1,048,576 sided die to determine my overall losses. Resolve yours based on a twenty strong force, not however many are left, because we can assume that since the melee is happening very fast, it's practically simultaneous.

518,902. Now, based on a CumSum of 20C[0,20], that means... 10 losses.)

In the brutal melee, 10 of the desperate villagers were variously killed, run through and impaled, and were open for descriptive deaths.

OOC: I ended up rolling for damage, and came up with a point in the very middle band, meaning that in one fashion or another 10 of them got killed. You can terminate as you wish, but I'd prefer for no mortal injuries on the two named ones.

(Batarna spears are usually seven feet long, give or take little. This is because they are made for strength and study stabbing power rather than length, they're also significantly lighter and more easy to wield than normal spears, they are raiding weapons after all.

I'll post tomorrow, I'm busy studying now.)

(OOC: Very Well. Mine are going to be 9 feet for the soldiers, so you'll have to comprimise. And of course, good luck in your exams)

OOC: True, but given that my soldiers have plenty of training with their weapons they should prove as adept, using shields to attempt to press the weapons of your folk -Lorgs- back, and they'll be more useful up close if your line doesn't hold.

Araga screamed as the Ces'Njiing jumped on his back and began to tear into him. Araga was younger than some, older than other, he wasn't quite at the twelve feet of height he could reach and his body still had a lot of growing and strengthening to do. But then again it was the duty of young Saeli to prove themselves in battle, still the Saeli body was one that was built to survive the most extreme trauma, all the arteries and veins in his neck were protected by thick, hard muscle and the walls of the arteries themselves were reinforced, his thick skin tore under the Impact of the weapons of the Ces'Njiing, but he wasn't dead yet.

Araga dropped his mace and threw himself about, beating his wings and trying to shake the Ces'Njiing off, his foe held tight and continued to try to maul him and Araga attempted to crush him, throwing his body backward again walls that collapsed in showers of splinters, only time would tell if he could shake the smaller best off him before it gnawed through his throat.

Back on the Semshimistha line the polearms were about to meet, Elrij let loose his massive Vaisa axe, sending it flying into the Ces'Njiing line and snatched up his fallen comrades Lungren Lance, the eleven foot long weapon would serve him better than his axe. Elrij was a big as his species could get, twelve feet tall and something like two-hundred and twenty kilograms, and he would use his strength to great advantage, within heartbeats the lines would clash...

The elites looked back at Creccagelade fight, and commited it to memory. They had fought Saeli before, but that way was new. Watching him get smashed into walls and the like, they praised the ebony armour he was wearing. He could hang on for as long as his arms would let him, and only recieve minor damage. Smiling at this, they returned their focus to the battle. One of the Saeli had thrown an axe, which hit one of the soldiers, peeking out his back.

"Right, a Saeli. I'll take that soldiers place. 'Should be able to do what Creccers did. Keep the soldiers in line!" Said one of them, called Baerrik.

He pushed though the soldiers, and presented his giant Lorg, ten and a half feet long. He turned it so it's billhook faced the line. But then, the unarmed Saeli who had thrown his axe picked up a large lance, and pointed at his line.

He gave the said Saeli a very dirty look, until he returned the look. He then dropped his lorg, picked up another sword, ran over to the lance, and grabbed it, and slammed it on his knee, trying to break it.

As the lines began to clash, one of the guards next to Andefera said "Permission to use Hook and Chop, sir?"

"Sorry?" He replied

The guard quickly explained the tactic. The Shesmim tactic of advancing with shields' counter. Using the hooks on the lorgs, you pull the shields out of the enemy's hands, hopefully pulling them over in the process, then turn your lorgs round and drive the halbeld into their spines, all while having everyone stop them from pulling you over by proping the pullers up. It was effective, but there counters to that*. Tactics was all about countering your enemy's tactics.

"Very well" said Andefera. "Give the order"

As the horn was blown, and the order given, Creccagelade remained on the Saeli, pulling on the neck with his teeth. His arms were hurting a lot, but he remained. He thanked the armour, but although it stopped him getting marks, it didn't stop the force from falling into a wall. He summoned up some strength, and started digging his talons into the monster, climbing up the body to relive the pressure put on his arms, and creating more and more cavities in the Saeli's body.

(OOC: *I'll leave you to work out a counter.

And is that it for your exams, or do you have more coming up?)

(OOC: that's it for the exams, next ones are end-years. I do have some other engagements, but they should only have minimal effect on posting.)

Large-scale battle tended toward the inflexible approach, it was hard to come up with new strategies for an entire army in a breath, but for small scale operations it was a real possibility, this was where the tactics and methods that defined the actions of the soldiers in larger groups, a testing ground for what worked and what did not.

Gespar knew the Ces'Njiing well, but not well enough to seriously alter his plans, ideally he'd rather fight them in the harsh terrain that Semshimistha training prepared one the most for, jungles and rocky badlands, city streets were not the best place for a Semshimistha-trained warrior, still he had the experience.

The Ces'Njiing could use their Lorgs to great advantage at catching armour and shields, luckily Plest-Nain were drilled in some basic countermeasures, as the line closed and Plest-Nain attempted to push the the lizard men did one of their favourite manoeuvres, hooking shields and trying to pull them out of the grip of the Plest-Nain, however they were trained for such a move, using their shorter spears or shields to bat aside the longer Lorgs and try to get in closer where the Lorgs longer length meant that the Ces'njiiing would either have to fall back to regain effective range or attempt to fight at a disadvantage.

However, some of the less experienced Plest-Nain lost their shields before they could preform the manoeuvre of getting in close, leaving them with only their armour and bracers to to protect themselves with, a few fell on the return swing, their places in the line quickly taken by Plest-Nain who dropped their crossbows and drew their swords

Araga screamed in rage as he threw himself full force through the side of a wooden hut beating thew Ces'Njiing on his back against the brickwork chimney before that too fell apart, both Ces'Njiing and Saeli were steadily getting further and further away from the battlefield, already a street away.

Araga hissed in frustration, he didn't want to die like this, his massive frame gave him the strength to tear the relatively small Ces'Njiing apart, if he could only get his hands on him, throw his hazing mind an idea formed, if he couldn't beat the lizard man off him...he could crush him in another way, with a snap of his wings he caught the Ces'Njiing against his broad back and attempted to hold him still and squeeze the life out of him while trying to get a grip on him with his hands.

Elrij was puzzled briefly by the Ces'Njiing's attempt to break his weapon, but thought little of it as he decided he'd rather tear the smaller creature limb from limb as he let go of his lance and lunged powerfully forward, catching the Ces'Njiing's sword-arm in his hand and cranking the force, behind him the four other Saeli rushed in, axes and heavy-bladed swords ready to chop through Lorgs to get into range.

(OOC: Good. I'll send in a small supply thingie, just to help my lot a bit.)

A small cart neared the town, dragged along by two young Lesser Dragons. They dragged it carefully, as the cargo inside was as volatile as a dragons breath. The two Lesser Dragons, both of them male, and cladded in minor armour, looked at the town, and frowned.

"Your joking!" said one of them "It's only been about half an hour since the start of the attack!"

"No, it's been longer than that. I wonder what their problem is?"

"Well, the horn's been sounded too many times really. 'Reckon they do need a hand?"

"Doubt it. Unless..."

The dragon engaged in deep thought for a second.

"Forget it, that would be impossible?"

"What would?"

"Nothing, nothing, just a extreme coinsidence. Well, better get some of those pots readied. Hold the cart for a moment."

He dropped the cart, pulled himself onto the cart itself, and grabbed a number of small ceramic pots. As he lowered them into a bag, one of them fell out of the cart and onto the road. The pot smashed, and turned into a fireball for a split second, before reverting to standard burning.

"Careful. We want them on the enemy, not us."

After the first bag was finished, he filled another one, this time without setting anything on fire. He hoisted the bag over his shoulder, and left it dangling by his right hip. He kept hold of the another one, pulled himself down, and took over from the another creature, who then did the same. After they neared the town a little more, they set the cart down in a safe place, fastened swords and horns to their belts, and started to run into the town.

Meanwhile, battle was raging. Baerrik had made a bad decision, but he was not going down without a fight. As he was lifted into the air, losing hold of one of his swords, he snapped at the Saeli's arm, and pulled his free razor sharp sword in a action to cut off the arm completely. He was sure he had the strength, and although the bone might be a problem, he should do enough damage to make the damned brute let go of him. And if he was killed in the process, well, so be it. Better to die on your legs than to live on your knees, which was esspecially the case with damned Shemshims.

Andefera was raging at the use of the giants. He had not seen them before, but he had already learned to hate them with every part of his body. He saw two worried guards raise their small bows and aim, then fire at the advancing Saeli.

(OOC: Right, just a point, this next bit may seem godmoddy, but seeing as the affected Saeli is pretty much dead anyway, I'll roleplay it for you. If you had plans for him, we'll just forget the next section)

Meanwhile, at the back, Creccagelade, still held on the huge creature. The most recent bang had displaced some of the armour on his left side, but he ignored it - he could fix it later. As the Saeli bled and bled, it amazed Creccagelade how much blood they contained, but he kept at the job noneverless. As he felt the worried Saeli weaken, he stepped up his efforts, ripping at the body with every part of his body that could. The Saeli then fell backwards, and Creccagelade jumped off.

As he saw the Saeli on the floor, lifeless, he walked over the body, and attempted to retrieve his sword. But as he reached toward the giant body, one of the arms spring up and clasped his left arm, crushing it. As he reached for one of the swords with his free arm, he heard cracking noises, and suddenly he couldn't feel his lower arm. He grabbed the free sword, groaning with the pain, lifted it, and stabbed the body until it moved no more.

He stood up, and tried to grab the lower part of his left arm, only to find, to his horror, that it wasn't there. Half his arm had been ripped clean off.

As this fact was realised, the two siege engerneers jogged around the town, looking for signs of the soldiers. They were halfway, when in the lines of the soldiers, the order was given to raise the Lorgs, away from the Saeli, and get ready to slash them when they get too close.

OOC: it's okay, he was going to die anyway and I don't mind a bit of ghosting to advance the story.

Gespar had enough, the lines broke apart again and fell back, spears and Lorgs raising to face off once again, no casualties yet.

"Kagh!" Gespar spat, he'd have to draw the Ces'Njiing back into where his greater numbers would tell. "Fall back to the green!"

The line retreated in an orderly manner, keeping polearms ready, the Saeli roared with anger but obeyed and turned on their hells and broke off into the surrounding town to the right.

Elrij hissed and twisted the Ces'Njing's arm before kicking him back into his line and following his comrades.

Elrij knew Gespar, he knew his plans and for a human he was strong and crafty, the Saeli had other purposes, maybe they could come in bite the flanks of the Ces'Njiing formation, or maybe they could come in behind their own formation and reinforce it...there were still options.

(OOC: tight formations in enclosed space benefits you, right now my major strength is that my armies will be bigger, so time to put that to work! On a side note I do find your liberal use of fire to be quite a novel strategy.)

Andefera growled with rage as the Sheshims backed away. He wanted to pursue them back to wherever they came from.

"Pursue them." He ordered.

As he said this, Creccagelade shambled up next to him, concealing his injury, and said "I don't think that's wise, Andefera."

"What gives you the right to forsake my orders?!" He snapped.

"This." He showed the stump that was his arm, which recieved a disgusted look. "We will not pursue them, at least with meaning. We will send a runner to Toarr Léaoahtliick, and get them to send a bird to Prugrýktu for Renforcements. Góaddreagoaneik Renforcements. I don't care if they're unarmoured, we just need them now. Tell them to bring baricades. Joaskhuae, take a band of our best soldiers and distract the Shemshims. Gaerioulolis, try and do some dummy flanking. Baerrik..."

Creccagelade looked around "Where is Baerrik?"

Just as he said this, a black and golden figure flew up from the enemy line and landed in the line. Creccagelade ran over, to find he was unconcious.

"He got into a scrap with a Cáef. He got off lightly in my opinion. From what I saw, broken arm, broken leg, broken ribs and forgetfulness." Said Joaskhuae

Creccagelade looked angry, and turned towards Andefera.

Andefera, do us all a favour, take a small band, and stop them from leaving. If they do, follow them. This is more than just a raid now. This is a display of our strength against the southern hordes. We win here, they'll think twice before opposing us again. But it's the same for us as well."

Using his only hand, he got a small stick of coal and wrote a small letter:

Dear Jaeraed Héafoadæcear

We need the help of all the Greater Dragon soldiers you can spare, in the human town several miles south of your position. We are facing numeralicly superior Seshimestha soldiers, and we are enduring minor losses. We came here in the intention of fighting humans, so we therefore lack anti-Caef weaponry. If possible, bring barricades.

PS: Don't forget the favour you owe me, Jaeraed. I funded Heafoanfiia with my own money. There are a number of those special humans here, the ones with our eyes, so if is also in your interest to help if you wish to collect specimens.

As the runner was sent, Creccagelade hoped his gamble would work. If he could hold up the enemy for about 45-75 miniutes, he would have them burning within two hours, thanks to the communication network of towers and pigeons that dotted the southern border. But if they got anti-Góaddreagoaneik weapons as renforcements, that would be a problem. But just what those were was a mystery. In fact, he would be suprised if they even seen a Greater Dragon before.

Meanwhile, the two siege engerneers ran from building to building, a mere quarter of the way on their journey.

Gespar sighed to himself, from the start he hadn't been equipped to deal with pitched battles, most of the Saeli he'd been given were newlings with only a few older ones to make sure they didn't get killed, most of the young ones were dead by now.

The troops had been outfitted with raiding gear mainly, they were experienced men, but they didn't have the heavier or longer spears that were needed and Gespar worried about their ability in pitched battle.
Numbers were a fickle advantage that was rarely the deciding factor, his men were probably better trained than most, but at the same time they were not as well equipped.

"Yerin, take the captured Flest back, we ended up with sixty good ones, that's a good raid for such a small town," Gespar ordered and a black-coated Sahadar saluted in acknowledgement.

"Pity we don't have any Shien-Laa or Shien Ra-Kii," Gespar mused, the Shien was an excellent weapon, but it didn't have the brutal and raw penetrating strength of Ra-Kii Shien variant, nor the rate of fire of the Shien-Laa. Part of Gespar wanted to sound the order to retreat and get out of the battle now, the odds were by no means bad; in fact they were good, but he didn't want to lose so many men for a pointless battle.

Nevertheless Semshimistha weren't squeamish about losses, his lord alone had at least sixty thousand Plest-Nain and replacements were easily found. A victory over the Ces'Njiing was worth its weight in human lives, the four Saeli were unfortunate, but they died because they were weak...Still...

"Yerin, send a runner ahead. It's probably nothing but what can I say, I have an...itch and last time I had it was when I was clearing Gefagh out of the eastern mines, I got the feeling and five minutes later twenty of the little Kagh had us surrounded, the five of us had to fight our way out, I was the only survivor...Just in case, tell Jeciel to come, we've found him some Ces'Njiing. Jeciel never did like me much, but ever since a Ces'Njiing took his left eye...Well, his pack will come at least, Gespar thought as he watched Yerin and his Naphon march south, a red-coated man shed his armour and weapons save a long dagger before taking up the jog, it was fortunate Jeciel always stayed close to the north, maybe an hour away, maybe two, maybe half, hard to say...

The green extended to the far end of the village and Gespar decided to take up position in the centre, it was easily seen by both enemies and allies.

"Now my fellow warriors of Nungrendal, we stand against an enemy of unparalleled wretchedness and craft, they must be destroyed. However, I'm not here to deliver speeches, you'll get the motivation or die. What I'm going to say is that your efforts have not been good enough, make sure they don't hit you with arrows, keep you're bloody shields up and make sure your helmet and breastplates take the hits if they have too. Now, the Ces'Njiing are Kagh, they'll use every sly trick they can, or just crush you, to beat them you have to be resourceful and shrewd, use what you can, spear, sword or shield, just get in close and gut them, the important thing is that you don't get too isolated though," Gespar paused to let his men soak in the information.

"Now, we're going do this properly, Elrij and the other Saeli will probably do something, but we need a plan in case they don't, that is, a plan that will work without their help. So it'll be a solid rectangle with Plest-Shien in the centre and Plest-Nain on the outside, as soon as we see the enemy we're lining up to face them and assuming standard battle formation, if they start to break through Plest-Shien are to discard their crossbows and join the melee in whatever numbers are necessary. Now, if things start to go real sour we're going to retreat, but I'll be damned if you do so without my orders, you do that and I will kill you myself."

The soldiers gave unanimous cry of acknowledgement and Gespar took up his place in the centre of the Plest-Shien, his Rahoom on his shoulder twittered a few sharp phrases keeping vigilant.

Elrij sat in the hut, his four companion spoke roughly to each other and he let out a hiss, he was the biggest and strongest and so they quieted. "The Ces'Njiing...they'll be trouble, so we're going to sit here and see where they try to hit. You all know the risks of testing, if you fail you'll be forgotten and justly so, but every Ces'Njiing you rend is another name to your legend," out of the single window the company could be seen forming up on the green, it was a good spot for someone who was planning to run, but it didn't necessarily mean Gespar had any intention of doing so, maybe it was a ploy to make his enemies think they were considering retreat, maybe not.

Nevertheless Elrij had decided that open combat wasn't the best option right now, he had lost his weapons so for the moment had taken to wielding a fifteen foot mill shaft, to others it may have been troublesome, but for he it was just a massive club.

"A pity Ces'Njiing blood isn't sweet..." A tall yellow Saeli hissed before running his hand over his two tomahawk-like Y'shiel.

The Fealltun river ran from the mountians in the east, to the giant river in the west the river transversed through Seshimestran and Ligbrynian territory. Here, the land sloped, and Nearwkiiaen shepherds guided herds of northern sheep, normal sheep, but with more bulk than wool. To the distant north existed the Ligbrynian Heartland, a land of ash wastes, mountains, and large factories and plantations. To the East existed mountains that reached to the clouds, and the empire of Valgard. To the West, the Great Seas. To the South, the Na'kearal Semshimistha. To the north, a large stormcloud, that extended even to the towns to the north and south. And on the plain itself, a tower, that gazed across the plains.

The small tower looked out toward a small river, made from a light grey granite, which made up the entire structure, save for a iron door, a large, unlit pyre, some measuring instruments on top of the tower, and a large, black banner, with the crimson eye, and the words, both in the Ligbrynian tounge, the human's and the Seshimesthian tounge, "Be the ones who enter our realm forwarned - we do not take kindly to invaders, and ones of the soft flesh and light eyes." And as the loud above grew taller and taller, every second threating to unleash it's wet cargo, a small figure approached the construct, panting heavily.

The figure knocked on the door three times, and waited. Then, a soldier clad in black armour called down from the tower.

"State your business."

"I'm *pant* carrying a *pant* message from *pant* Creccagelade in *pant*
that humanish town *pant* in the *pant* south."

The door opened, and the figure entered.

"So, how is Creccers doing? I hope Andy didn't send him mad." Said the garisioner, taking the letter. "Where to?"

"The figure replied "Oh, not quite *pant* but close. Prugrýktu, please"

"Ah well. Prugrýktu, eh? Things not going well? Dunno what humies can do, really. Scream, and fire arrows, that's it really." As he said this, he tied the note onto a pigeon, and carried it over the window.

"We're up against the Suiddaekmoans"

"Shimies, eh? Let me guess, they have some cowardly humies behind some big Caegs, haven't they?" As he said this, he let the pigeon go on it's journey.

"Oh yes."

"Absolute idiots, they are. They might be able to beat up a fair few of us, but put them up against this tower, and they'll need an army to get us."

"Are you forgetting food stocks?"

"Er, yeah..."

As they argued the Seshimestian siege caperbility, the bird flew all the way to the dragonic city, flying a red flag, incating it wasn't just mere prey.

The pigeon landed in it's home cage, a lesser dragon manservant removed the message, and gave it to his employer, a blue dragon by the name of Jaeraed.

Dear Jaeraed Héafoadæcear

We need the help of all the Greater Dragon soldiers you can spare, in the human town several miles south of your position. We are facing numeralicly superior Seshimestha soldiers, and we are enduring minor losses. We came here in the intention of fighting humans, so we therefore lack anti-Caef weaponry. If possible, bring barricades.

PS: Don't forget the favour you owe me, Jaeraed. I funded Heafoanfiia with my own money. There are a number of those special humans here, the ones with our eyes, so if is also in your interest to help if you wish to collect specimens.

The large creature read the letter, gave a sinister smile, and told his manservant to "Get me my armour, and rouse the other boys. We're going on a hunt."

As the first drops began to fall, Jaeraed lauched himself from his home, as did several other dragons. He glided to a hilltop, and launched himself again. The work was much, with the apparel he was wearing, but he soldiered through. He continued these actioned, and would do so until he reached the town.

Meanwhile, in the town itself, Andefera felt anger at Creccagelade's defiance. He had followed his orders, but he felt bad doing it. He wanted to do his own thing. All he had was a futile band of soldiers. But an oppurtunity then arrose. As he exited the town, and house turned to field, he saw a band of Seshimestha exit the town also. They had many human slaves. He wanted to acctually use his sword on this trip, as botched as it was. He wanted to see if the hype of killing live human that his brother had implanted in him was true. He gave the order to attack the much group. The decision was reckless at best, as not only did he have enough troops to form an effective phalanx, but there wasn't any guards to protect him.

(OOC: Okay, here I go, what could be the most memorable, and maybe even the end of this part of this rp. Basically, the big guns are coming, but the second in line of the house is basically throwing himself away. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?)

(OOC: I'm afraid not...or maybe I am, but probably not, Yerin's Naphon is about twenty-six humans, the slaves taken are exhausted already so they wouldn't fight back, but they might try to run...)

Yerin was a middle-aged man, honey-skinned and compact with a long black moustache, he'd had more fights under his belt than he could remember and had his share of scars to show for it, his right had was missing the last two fingers, but that was no problem as the shield was strapped to his right arm and he was left handed.

"Saphar, sir, Ces'Njiing!" his fellow Sahadar barked and pointed.

It was maybe a couple of miles...he could make it back and they could use the slaves as a meatshield...no they were valuable and the Ces'Njiing force wasn't so big.

"Stand and fight! Aema, Kaul, Jyek, Nethin, keep the Flest behind us. Everyone else, draw arms and prepare for battle, Plest-Shien, fire and discard, we're going to overwhelm 'em quick," Yerin barked and his twenty or so men moved to obey, firing crossbows and charging forward with Batara and Wreng ready to stab and hack and shields held ready to defend themselves, these men were fresher than their counterparts and aching for Ces'Njiing blood, but they were smart enough not to get too broken up.

(OOC: Right, I'm a bit stumped for ideas here, so I'm going to have to waffle a bit.)

As Andefera marched quickly toward the enemy, Lorgs pointed toward them. The first lot of crossbow bolts hit two soldiers, and they collasped from their injuries. Though dishearted somewhat, the soldiers were relived to see that the crossbows had been discarded, and that they could, literally, get stuck in.

The Lorgs still remained in their hands, and they were turned so that the hook could be used for hooking and chopping. The pike parts were still pointed at the enemy, however. Andefera, on the other hand, had his sword drawn, and was ready to use it.

As the soldiers began to clash, the longer weapons of the Ligbrynians were prepared to pull the shields off the enemy and then drive their halbeld parts into the enemy.

(OOC: Me too, pretty tired right now...)

Yerin's forces were fresh and had the weight of numbers, they had been drilled in combat a thousand times and all had some experience, it was sword and lance against polearm Lorg, but Yerin's Naphon had no intention of fighting conventionally.

Shields and lances were used as bats to knock Lorgs aside and get in close, either pushing the Ces'Njiing back or forcing him to fight in less than optimum conditions, others simply tried to dart in past the Lorgs and yet others, the more skilled swordsmen, let their shields be taken so that they could wield their Wreng two-handed and get in close, in the areas where the Plest-Nain enjoyed a two-to-one advantage the crimson-coated men abused their advantage, one man occupying the Lorgs while the other lunged and thrust his spear at the Ces'Njiing.

As the two forces clashed a cacophony of war cries and the crash of metal-on-metal sounded soon joined by the wail of freshly injured men and Ces'Njiing.

As the skimish went on, it seemed to Andefera that he might be losing. So, in a last ditch attempt to turn the tide, he drew his longer than usual sword, and jumped into battle.

(OOC: I'll not to be to godmoddy in this next bit.)

His first target was a normal human. He gave the soldier a good kick, opening a wound with the talons on them, and pushed him away. Another came, and hit him on the arm, however the armour made sure that the blade merely caught him off balance. The soldier kicked Andefera's leg, and he slipped. As the soldier was about to drive his sword into him, he rolled over to the left, and punched the soldier in the face. As he did this, another appeared behind him, a red-eyed one, and grabbed his arm, pulling him back. He snapped his jaw at the intruder, and kicked it as well. Another one then appeared, and Andefera managed to catch it's sword arm in his mouth. But as more joined the fight, it seemed that he was being overwelmed. Lorgs pulled some off, and he fought fiercely, but it seemed only a matter of time.

Meanwhile, Creccagelade sat completely unaware of this disaster, wincing as a soldier cleaned his wound.

"So, what happened? Seems a bit much to completely lose a hand."

"One of those damned big things pulled it off. I'm quite amazed that I managed to take it out. How long should the regrowth take?"

"Six months at least, even with the balm. Your lucky it will."

"Yeah. I have a feeling I was too harsh on Andefera. It's the poor lad's first raid, of course he'll be angry. I'm just glad he hasn't got himself killed."

"Yet."

Yerin ducked in past a Lorg and ran his blade through the throat of a Ces'Njiing, the other two Sahadar with him were embattled with the enemy leader and fight there was degenerating into a brawl, but it didn't bother him too much as his side was winning...for the moment.

Yerin blocked the next sword strike and winced as the lizard-like man's strength sent him reeling, at the last moment he regained his balance and slashed out, his blow deflect by the armour, but it was enough of a distraction, he lunged forward and slammed his shield's metal rim against the bests face before slashing open its thigh, the best kicked back and he took the blow on his shield, the force of the blow jarring him.

To one side a Plest-Nain was beheaded by a Ces'Njiing, to another one of the dragonkin was cut down by the graceful dance of a Fareph blade, one of the Plest-Shien lunged a Ces'njiing, only to miss the Lorg, the hook catching him in the eye, the man screamed and hacked wildly at his enemy, both fell in a tangle of limbs and blades, a moment later they were both little more than bloody chunks of meat.

Yerin ran his blade through the armpit of his enemy, braking through a weak chain-link, his enemy spasmed and was still and the darker skinned man went on to face his next enemy amidst the clash of swords and shields, lance and polearms, he paid little heed to a Ces'Njiing who fell by his side with a Batara lance thrust into him, soon followed by the Plest-Nain who did the act, left leg hacked off by the wide swing of a Lorg.

(OOC: Sorry for the late reply, but I didn't really have an idea to post. I missed an important piece in that post.)

Andefera held his bleeding thigh, unable to use that leg for fear of setting off a huge amount of pain. He slashed at a nearby enemy, who then fell in the same position as him. Holding the enemy down, he opened his mouth and prepared to take out his anger at the slashing of his thigh. The man fought fiercely, punching Andefera in the eye, before biting it, and resumed his maiming. His left eye swelled up until he couldn't see though it much longer. He felt the earth with the end of his large mouth, and snapped his jaws shut. He had already dealt a fatal wound, and a unamed soldier saw the leader raise his shield to knock the prince out. It was as if his reflexes had slowed down, as he ran though the melee to the leader. He drew his sword, and roared as he neared. He recieved several wounds during this blaze of glory - a slashed leg, a stab in the shoulder, but he kept running. He launched himself at the leader, only to find that the shield he carried had already knocked Andefera on the head, knocking him out. As the leader became aware of this threat, he turned to face the charger.

The skimmish, as a whole, wasn't going well for the Ligbrynians, however, even if the Sadahar won here, the Ligbrynian soldiers were about to recieve some vital reneforcements, namely, four Greater Dragons, who were over half of the way there. Also, the siege engerneers had met with the main battle group, and had built a grenade mortar made from two crossbows, able to rain grenade after grenade of firery death apon the Seshimestha. Also, if the battle went on for even longer, a mid-sized army, mustered from the nearby outposts, would enter the town, and take any required action. The battle would have to end soon, for if it didn't, the numerical advantage of the Seshimestha would soon end, in a firery way.

Although, if victory was won here, the entire battle will have gone to the Seshimestha, if one Sadahar, battling against a failing phalanx, decided to use the noble body that lay, still breathing, in the skimish in a way he saw fit.

(OOC: Yep, I am pushing you to make a decision. Kill or capture him, or mistake him for dead, it's up to you. You've got your slaves, and a bit extra, though the dragons are just a way of ending this, because if we don't end this soon, we might never.)

(True that. I'll have him captured and brought to Gespar, this could get bigger but...meh, I'm not in the mood. This was supposed to be a short side-story while the action was slow, but now that its heating up...Well, its dragged on a bit.)

Yerin crashed to the ground and bit off a curse as a Ces'Njiing rammed him with its shoulder, but a moment later the figure was impaled by a Plest-Nain.
Yerin examined his surroundings and saw the ornate armour of a Ces'Njiing noble he took his feet and examined the figure holding his sword ready.
The creature was big and strong, but heavily wounded, Yerin put his blade to the scaly beasts throat but didn't cut it.

Concentrating on human tongue Yerin shouted, "Dragon-kin! I have your leader! get out of here and we'll leave him be, failure to respond will result in his death!" Yerin shouted and nodded to a Plest-Nain, "Tell Gespar we may have a ticket out of this fighting, we've got the slaves, its not worth losing," the man saluted and set off from the melee, both sides drew back as Yerin signalled for the soldiers to line up again, another Plest-Nain came and held his blade at the creatures neck.

"You have my word as a warrior, your leader won't be hurt unless you make a move, if you quit the field we will leave him be," Yerin shouted to the opposing formation.

(OOC: simple really, if this works out well you can pull back, I'll send him north, drop him off and you can collect him in a few days later. Nice tidy ending plus you get to keep a character, and one that's now a little wiser. I'm trying to build Gespar's Talons of Nungrendal up as a group of soldier who fight for duty and prestige, but are also sympathetic to Ces'Njiing.

(OOC: Go on then, but I'd like him to meet with his capturer in the future. Seeing as I seem to be being attacked by three enemies at the moment (God bless fluid time.) I'll think I'll lay off the military campaigns for now. Up for a peaceful, along the lines of a gold rush on the border, or a diplomatic meeting even?)

Creccagelade sat down, took off his upperbody armour save his padded cotton underneath, and sighed. "What a day" he mumbled.

Just then, he heard the faint sound of a soldier calling. He couldn't quite make out what it was, but it intrigued him somewhat...

Then, after a moment had passed, a ragged, wounded lesser dragon soldier hopped into the square Creccagelade sat in.

"Léaoaf, Léaoaf! I come with bad news. Andefera, he's, been captured."

The messenger collasped in front of Creccagelade, and spat out a mouthful of blood. The poor thing had wounds all over him. Bruises mostly, although cuts were visible. But that wasn't important. If what he said was true, a noble had been captured by the southerners. In other words, a disaster.

Despite hating them right now, he still retained a sort of respect for them. They'd fought hard, something Andefera might of understood one day. It must have required a good amount of tactical thinking to take him.

Either that or he threw himself away. Keeping his mind on his age, that was probably the most likely option. No matter, he would get Andefera back from the Seshimestha.

He knew them. They had the warrior's honour, meaning that Andefera was indeed alive. How they treat him, that would be a problem. The dragons were still a while off, and they hardly had the ability to finish them off now. So for now, despite a bit of reluctance, he gave to order to do as they say, with one exception - one would remain, ready to observe any returns by the Seshimestha. If Creccagelade knew them, they wouldn't return, but it paid to be safe. In the future, when the dragons made it, and when he had mustered more troops, he would be able to get him back. But for now, he had to admit defeat. He hated that, but it was necessary. He gave the order, and despite resentment from the troops, they started marching away from the town. Creccagelade wasn't happy, but it seemed to only way at the moment.

(Yeah, diplomacy works, Nungrendal is an ambitious man...well man-thing... and he might be willing to make some sort of alliance to further his own ends.)

Gespar had already given the order and the men were retreating the Saeli had been puzzled by the move, but really Gespar simply wasn't in the mood to take a risk, battle had been joined and his own forces had come out on top in both cases, the minor victories made a retreat worthwhile.

They were heading south, on the first night of the march he'd have an audience with his prisoner, on the third night he and twenty men would take the man north again once the new slaves were safe.

(I'll post again tomorrow where we can RP the talks, if it goes ahead Nungrendal and your leader can meet in a neutral location.)

Gespar's tent was not large or decorative, it was plain grey and although it was much larger than the tents of his subordinates, large enough for a dozen men, it was still strictly utilitarian.

Light from eight large candles lit the room and a heavy standing brazier added warmth; a large sheet of canvas acted as the floor and large tasselled cushion served as seats, Gespar had pulled two out and placed them opposite a small wooden table.

It was difficult as he was trying to be diplomatic, but although he had fought the Ces'Njiing, he hadn't seen a lot of their personal lives.

Still, red mint tea had been prepared and that should be enough, talks were uncommon in Semshimistha and diplomacy itself was usually rather plain and straightforward.

Simply put Gespar was trying to broker something, he didn't know how powerful this noble was, but maybe he'd have the authority to forge something that would stop the pointless fighting between Ces'Njiing and Semshimistha, or rather Ces'Njiing and Nungrendal, after all there were plenty more enemies that deserved killing and an Alliance could be potentially very valuable.

It was the plainest truth there was, strength was to be praised and honoured, you watched your strongest competition as much as you respected them, but unless you were going to kill them there was no point fighting, because if you didn't both combatants could exhaust themselves and fall prey to a weaker foe.

Gespar had dressed himself in his finest black silk clothes, with dark blue embroidery, imported from Zhyolatska. It had cost him a lot, but from what he had heard diplomacy was best done whilst making a show.

Gespar seated himself on a large red cushion and placed two thick glass cups on the table and waited, a moment later a Plest-Nain came in and announced that the captive had been brought, Gespar nodded to the man to let him in.

(OOC: That's about that, you can post a little about how your man has been treated and what he's thinking about if you want. Because he's a valuable prisoner he won't have been beaten or abused, but feel free for him to comment on the uncomfortable conditions or lack of friendly faces or whatever you want.

We should probably decide how this is going by TG or something before we actually post the conversation (unless we want a page of dialogue, which isn't that bad)

Other than that basically this is the first act of peace that has been initiated in sincerity by a Semshimista or a warrior in their service. The basic premise is an alliance of military force, a sort of military-aid agreement, which although it isn't necessary yet might be in the future.

Of course this alliance only would extend to Nungrendal and the Kiishra that he has dominion over, but that's still about half of the North, 'though there will be raids from other Kiishra's minions or freelance Saeli.

Andefera entered the tent, unsure as to what his fate was. It was the first time he'd felt like an alien. Sure, Ligbryne had it's cultual regions, but the strange practices of these Seshimistha made him feel no better than if he were on a desert island. All he knew about them was from books and rumours, and it was the latter that was on his mind the most. He'd read that the presumed fate of most captured Ligbrynians was slavery, but he'd heard much about being eaten and weird blood rituals, that bent your mind and body to them. The thought disnerved him.

He saw the leader, on a couch, and for the first time, he found a similarity with his homeland. He kneeled on the cushion, and looked at the leader. The colour of his shirt was another, but the style wasn't. But it didn't matter. He was less apprehensive, despite how small the similarities are.

He lifted up the tea, and thought if he had to do any ettiquette. Usually, he'd hug the person he was meeting, put his head over the left shoulder, and then greet them. But he feared Ligbrynian greetings would have the wrong effect. So, he used a greeting that seemed to be universal - a hand shake. Hopefully, the feeling of the high body temperature and scalely skin wouldn't unnerve him - these Seshims were brave enough in battle, after all. While holding out his hand, he said, with slightly broken grammar due to language barriers:

"Hello. What do you want with me?"

(OOC: When I say High Blood temperature, that comes from living with dragons. It won't scald, it'll be as hot as a fairly hot/warm bath.)

Gespar took the Ces'Njiing's hand in his own and was briefly surprised at the heat of the dragon man's hand as he shook it, the scaly skin felt odd against his palm; not like the tough leathery skin of Saeli but not quite like human skin either.

All in all things were very different from the battlefield, there was no ferocity in the Ces'Njiing's actions, perhaps nervousness but that would be understandable.

"I am Gespar Leonard, the commander of this group of warriors, forgive the rough treatment you may have endured in your capture.
However, I only wish to talk with you, about matters of...diplomacy. Please take your tea, I am not sure of the specific etiquettes of our nations, but I assume that a hot beverage is much needed on both our parts," Gespar said placing a small jar of honey on the table.

"Before we go on, might I ask exactly who you are? You are quite obviously a noble by your bearing and the nature of the armour you wore. I'll give you my word that no matter who you are, in three days you will be returned to your people regardless to how our talks go."

(OOC: There we are, good way to start it I think. Just so you know, red mint tea is a made-up drink, it is made from a sort of red-leafed mint (thus the name) it is hot but only mildly and at the same time has a cool mint-taste, this dual effect makes it an interesting drink and it can be sweetened with honey.
It is one of the older herbs of Semshimsitha knowledge, while it is not supernatural it does help calm one down and also aids in healing, fighting off diseases and contains minutes amounts of caffeine and so is a stimulant. Aside from that it is merely refreshing and can be taken cold or hot, inthis case it has been served hot.)

Andefera thought about the question. He immediately ruled out lying – he was not good at that – but, then again, his position would command respect. Not that he was vain, but in this situation, it seemed the right thing to do.

"I am Andefera Campwudu..." he took a sip of his tea "...second in line to the Campwudu councilship. And seeing my father's age, soon to be the councillor's brother."

He said the last sentence with a sense of optimism, as if he didn't care if his father died. Which, in truth. he didn't.

Andefera Campwudu...Gespar thought, the name did sound familiar to him.

"Interesting, so if your father dies that makes you something like a...duke?" Gespar pronounced the human word awkwardly as he spoke it, for it was not a rank the Semshimistha bothered to deal with.

"Well, my brother is the first in line, he's my eldest. If my father dies, he'll get the councilship, but he said he'd split the holdings of our family between us. In another words, he'd get a say in how Ligbryne is run. Trouble is..."

He took a look around, and lowered his voice.

"...our father isn't the...nicest person around. He's as old as the hills, almost, but he never lets go, if you get me. He didn't really treat me and my brother well, in the physical sense. When he was around, he tended to get us to do as he said with a bang on the head, or worse. My brother, Anlaf, even said he killed his first nest-mate."

Gespar nodded in understanding, "I know the sort, in fact I know a few who are considerably worse. I also know that attitudes like that tend to make people want to...remove them, if you understand what I'm saying."

"So a say in how your society runs, an interesting prospect. Tell me, have you ever felt that our constant fighting was a waste," As Gespar finished he took a long sip from his tea and enjoyed the slightly spicy flavour.

Andefera nodded in agreement. "Yes, constant fighting doesn't get you anywhere. Maybe the odd big one, but small skimishes don't achieve anything."

Andefera thought for a moment, then opened his mouth to speak again.

"I know what you mean by removal. Are you suggesting...forced abdication?"

Yet, he needed to ask another question. One about this man's upbringing. Perhaps he could find out the truth behind the rumours.

"Another thing. One thing that has always bothered me is, just how do you earn such a look? I know for a fact that red eyes are not common for humans"