Telros
31-05-2008, 02:56
OOC: If you want to join, send me a tag and I will contact you to discuss your possible entrance.
IC:
“Shields up!”
The clatter of metal shields shot up in formation., the legionnaires in front holding them in front of them, while those in the back ranks put them above their heads. The whistling sound that had prompted the centurion's commands for shields was the sound of the spears being thrown by the Gaatians. The spears stuck into their shields, forcing the legionnaires back a little, but they still held. Other
spears bounced off shields, slicing thin grooves into the shields and sending showers of sparks. There was a great cry from the leather clad warriors, slicing their spears and shields into the air. The Kallisian legionnaires did not answer, save for the orders of their centurions. “Shields down!” The legionnaires put their shields into normal positions, their armor reflecting the massive fires consuming the former Gaatian village. “Ready traesi!” The legionnaires, whom had not yet drawn any weapon, reached into their shields and pulled out long, thin spears. They held them like normal spears at their sides, waiting for the next order. The centurion of the legion that was battling to take this city, one of many in the 12th Legion, was Marcis. His eyes gazed over the city. It was in ruins, with the heavy bombardment by catapults and trebuchets had reduced its walls to nothing and its city was aflame. Everywhere battle raged. Normally they would have brought their skirmishers (Kalari), but they would have been cut to pieces by the Gaatians in such tight quarters, and there was no time for skirmishing. This was heavy street fighting, the kind the legionnaires and not the Kalari were trained in. He smiled grimly; the Gaatians were giving a good show for their defiant spirit.
Well, that would be crushed soon enough, by a Kallisian boot. He drew his sword. “Ready!” The legionnaires lifted the spears into throwing positions. “Aim!” The arms drew back a little and tensed. The Gaatian soldiers cries began to start to die off as they noticed their legionnaires movements. “Throw!” The cocked arms shot forward and a hail of spears shot forth from the lines, filling the air with the dark forms of their weaponry. The Gaatians cried out and raised their large, bronze shields. Marcis grinned. Little good it would do them. The spears began to impact, striking off some of their shields, but some weren't so lucky. While some stuck into the shields, the force of the blow knocked aside the shield, in time for another to strike him through the middle. A gout of blood shot from his mouth as he cried out in pain. Another slammed through the face of another, ripping skin and bone from the mans head. The line held mostly, but the screams of their dying were heard. He turned to the archers behind him and raised his sword. “Archers ready!” The sixty or so archers clustered up behind him, already prepared with arrows nocked on their bows, raised them and aimed at the still crouching Gaatians. Marcis threw his arm, along with the sword down. “Loose!” The thudding of arrows being loosed filled the air with great rapidity. The shower arced up....and then came back down. The Gaatians who were still stunned , lost their shields, or were in dangerous spots were caught in the storm. The bolts slammed into their bodies, throwing them to the ground, either with cries of pain or gurgling noises as blood rushed from their mouths.
The centurion tensed as he let the storm almost finish itself off, glancing about. He saw the line of the Gaatians, formerly quite strong, was now ragged and full of holes. Blood was flowing down the cobbte stone streets of the village and their cries filled the air. Yes, now was time. Turning to the legionnaires, he thrust his sword into the air and roared hoarsely. “Traestari! Draw swords!” There was a wave of movement as they drew their swords and hefted their swords, preparing themselves for combat. He pointed his sword forward. “Charge!” He began to run and was followed by the legionnaires, as they rushed towards the enemy line. The archers readied themselves once more and filled the air with arrows. The buzzing sounds of flying wood sliced past their ears as they ran at the Gaatians. The remaining Imperial soldiers, seeing the incoming enemy, roared and quickly reformed as best they could. Then, with a rousing cry from their leader, they rushed forward as well. The lines of gold and red slammed rushed towards each other across the central courtyard of the village, and collided with a loud crash. Their shields slammed into each other and swords flashed in the sunlight as they hacked at each other. The legionnaires fought back as best they could, and made good use of their shields. The Gaatians stabbed out with spear and sword, scoring few hits as openings in the shieldwall was few. Although their own shield wall struggled as the legionnaires pushed on them. Marcis watched the struggling line, waited for the combat to intensify and then roared. “Traestari! Lock shields!” The legionnaire line halted and the shields came even closer together. They stopped slashing, and thinking they had tried to get better protection for themselves, the enemy pressed their attack.
Right into their trap.
“Now!” The legionnaires threw up their shields, sending many Gaatian men staggering, some even falling on their best, while others lost control of their shields....just as the legionnaire swords came rushing in to pierce and stab flesh. Blood splashed onto the ground and the cries and groans of the dying Gaatian soldiers filled the air. Marcis kept pushing the legionnaires on, pushing them to victory.
All while this was going on, Legion Commander Aurael Kadarthi, the Hammer of the 12th Legion, stood in his command tent, looking over the map of the village. They had gotten good reconnaissance from their scouts and spies they had sent in waves ahead of the invasion to find out the terrain, enemy deployments, strongholds, the like. This village here was a gathering point for soldiers, equipment, siege weapons, the like. It would have been the perfect rallying point for a counter assault to be sent out against their rear, as they drove into the Imperium. However, Aurael had seen this too, and he was now ensuring it could do little else but burn. His blue eyes gazed over the map, as his aides moved groups of small figurines, representing the battle from the constant reports they were receiving from the commanders in the field. All about the tent stood the reserves of the 12th, ready to be deployed as well as protecting their commander. Standing up, he looked at one of his aides. “Serith.” The young woman looked up at him, eyes questioning.
“Yes sir?”
“The Gaatian resistance is breaking, but it is taking too long. We cannot have our legion linger here, when we are needed to bolster the front that is going on at Arthistad. Tell the mercenary force that it their turn. They are to kill all Gaatian soldiers, and burn the city to the ground. The civilians are to be spared, unless they put up a fight. Then they are to be killed. Once they have finished here, they are to head to port of Tristam, and get onto the boats prepared there, with the civilians. The civilians will be left in the port, for our forces there to handle, while they will sail to Arthistad, where they will rejoin us at the siege there. Am I understood?”
She bowed. “Yes sir.” Then she moved to the flap and went through. Soon enough, the sounds of horses hooves galloping over the ground could be heard and then faded away. Aurael turned to his other aide.
“Caarli, tell the Legion to pull out of the city, slowly. One cohort at a time; I want it to appear as if we are merely repositioning. They are not to induce a full retreat until the mercenaries have begun to engage the Gaatians. Once they have begun their full retreat, come back and report to me.” The aide nodded and left the same way as Serith. Aurael turned and moved to the flap, opening it enough to gaze outside. He could see the legion, a sea of red as his eyes took in the reserves. He saw the trebuchets that were set up close to his tent, due to their long range, and saw they tensing and then crashing forward to unleash their loads of fiery rocks. Rocks which plunged down into the city , slamming into the structures and sending gouts of flame upward. One slammed into the main building, where the village's government had been, and saw it plunge straight into the structure. There was a pause and then the structure ripped itself apart, a great fiery explosion sending blocks of stone flying through the air. Aurael grunted and turned to a legionnaire. “You, go tell them to stop that and disassemble the trebuchets for traveling. We're moving out.”
*****************
As all of this was going on, a large force of mercenaries waited behind a hill. A great force of horsemen, swordsmen, and archers from all walks of life stayed there. Gaatians, Kallisians, Retharians, all had come to answer the call of Kallisian silver. Strangely, in front of the force, wearing armor and clothing that was befitting a commander, was a very pale figure, with pointed ears. Serith came galloping up, her robe flying about her as her horse came to a stuttering stop before the strange rider. She bowed her head quickly in respect and began to talk. “My Lord Aurael has bid me to inform you that the Legion is pulling out, moving to join the siege at Arthistad. You will take over operations here, with your army. Your orders are so; you are to move into the village and destroy the Gaatian defenders, down to the last man. Once this has been accomplished, you are to evacuate all the civilians, whom shall be spared unless they attack, upon at that point they are to be killed, pending your discretion. Once they are dead or evacuated, you are to burn the village to the ground. You will then take the civilians to the port of Tristam. The civilians are to be handled by our forces there, and you are to immediately take your forces onto the waiting ships, and make towards Arthistad by sea with all haste. Are these orders understood?”
IC:
“Shields up!”
The clatter of metal shields shot up in formation., the legionnaires in front holding them in front of them, while those in the back ranks put them above their heads. The whistling sound that had prompted the centurion's commands for shields was the sound of the spears being thrown by the Gaatians. The spears stuck into their shields, forcing the legionnaires back a little, but they still held. Other
spears bounced off shields, slicing thin grooves into the shields and sending showers of sparks. There was a great cry from the leather clad warriors, slicing their spears and shields into the air. The Kallisian legionnaires did not answer, save for the orders of their centurions. “Shields down!” The legionnaires put their shields into normal positions, their armor reflecting the massive fires consuming the former Gaatian village. “Ready traesi!” The legionnaires, whom had not yet drawn any weapon, reached into their shields and pulled out long, thin spears. They held them like normal spears at their sides, waiting for the next order. The centurion of the legion that was battling to take this city, one of many in the 12th Legion, was Marcis. His eyes gazed over the city. It was in ruins, with the heavy bombardment by catapults and trebuchets had reduced its walls to nothing and its city was aflame. Everywhere battle raged. Normally they would have brought their skirmishers (Kalari), but they would have been cut to pieces by the Gaatians in such tight quarters, and there was no time for skirmishing. This was heavy street fighting, the kind the legionnaires and not the Kalari were trained in. He smiled grimly; the Gaatians were giving a good show for their defiant spirit.
Well, that would be crushed soon enough, by a Kallisian boot. He drew his sword. “Ready!” The legionnaires lifted the spears into throwing positions. “Aim!” The arms drew back a little and tensed. The Gaatian soldiers cries began to start to die off as they noticed their legionnaires movements. “Throw!” The cocked arms shot forward and a hail of spears shot forth from the lines, filling the air with the dark forms of their weaponry. The Gaatians cried out and raised their large, bronze shields. Marcis grinned. Little good it would do them. The spears began to impact, striking off some of their shields, but some weren't so lucky. While some stuck into the shields, the force of the blow knocked aside the shield, in time for another to strike him through the middle. A gout of blood shot from his mouth as he cried out in pain. Another slammed through the face of another, ripping skin and bone from the mans head. The line held mostly, but the screams of their dying were heard. He turned to the archers behind him and raised his sword. “Archers ready!” The sixty or so archers clustered up behind him, already prepared with arrows nocked on their bows, raised them and aimed at the still crouching Gaatians. Marcis threw his arm, along with the sword down. “Loose!” The thudding of arrows being loosed filled the air with great rapidity. The shower arced up....and then came back down. The Gaatians who were still stunned , lost their shields, or were in dangerous spots were caught in the storm. The bolts slammed into their bodies, throwing them to the ground, either with cries of pain or gurgling noises as blood rushed from their mouths.
The centurion tensed as he let the storm almost finish itself off, glancing about. He saw the line of the Gaatians, formerly quite strong, was now ragged and full of holes. Blood was flowing down the cobbte stone streets of the village and their cries filled the air. Yes, now was time. Turning to the legionnaires, he thrust his sword into the air and roared hoarsely. “Traestari! Draw swords!” There was a wave of movement as they drew their swords and hefted their swords, preparing themselves for combat. He pointed his sword forward. “Charge!” He began to run and was followed by the legionnaires, as they rushed towards the enemy line. The archers readied themselves once more and filled the air with arrows. The buzzing sounds of flying wood sliced past their ears as they ran at the Gaatians. The remaining Imperial soldiers, seeing the incoming enemy, roared and quickly reformed as best they could. Then, with a rousing cry from their leader, they rushed forward as well. The lines of gold and red slammed rushed towards each other across the central courtyard of the village, and collided with a loud crash. Their shields slammed into each other and swords flashed in the sunlight as they hacked at each other. The legionnaires fought back as best they could, and made good use of their shields. The Gaatians stabbed out with spear and sword, scoring few hits as openings in the shieldwall was few. Although their own shield wall struggled as the legionnaires pushed on them. Marcis watched the struggling line, waited for the combat to intensify and then roared. “Traestari! Lock shields!” The legionnaire line halted and the shields came even closer together. They stopped slashing, and thinking they had tried to get better protection for themselves, the enemy pressed their attack.
Right into their trap.
“Now!” The legionnaires threw up their shields, sending many Gaatian men staggering, some even falling on their best, while others lost control of their shields....just as the legionnaire swords came rushing in to pierce and stab flesh. Blood splashed onto the ground and the cries and groans of the dying Gaatian soldiers filled the air. Marcis kept pushing the legionnaires on, pushing them to victory.
All while this was going on, Legion Commander Aurael Kadarthi, the Hammer of the 12th Legion, stood in his command tent, looking over the map of the village. They had gotten good reconnaissance from their scouts and spies they had sent in waves ahead of the invasion to find out the terrain, enemy deployments, strongholds, the like. This village here was a gathering point for soldiers, equipment, siege weapons, the like. It would have been the perfect rallying point for a counter assault to be sent out against their rear, as they drove into the Imperium. However, Aurael had seen this too, and he was now ensuring it could do little else but burn. His blue eyes gazed over the map, as his aides moved groups of small figurines, representing the battle from the constant reports they were receiving from the commanders in the field. All about the tent stood the reserves of the 12th, ready to be deployed as well as protecting their commander. Standing up, he looked at one of his aides. “Serith.” The young woman looked up at him, eyes questioning.
“Yes sir?”
“The Gaatian resistance is breaking, but it is taking too long. We cannot have our legion linger here, when we are needed to bolster the front that is going on at Arthistad. Tell the mercenary force that it their turn. They are to kill all Gaatian soldiers, and burn the city to the ground. The civilians are to be spared, unless they put up a fight. Then they are to be killed. Once they have finished here, they are to head to port of Tristam, and get onto the boats prepared there, with the civilians. The civilians will be left in the port, for our forces there to handle, while they will sail to Arthistad, where they will rejoin us at the siege there. Am I understood?”
She bowed. “Yes sir.” Then she moved to the flap and went through. Soon enough, the sounds of horses hooves galloping over the ground could be heard and then faded away. Aurael turned to his other aide.
“Caarli, tell the Legion to pull out of the city, slowly. One cohort at a time; I want it to appear as if we are merely repositioning. They are not to induce a full retreat until the mercenaries have begun to engage the Gaatians. Once they have begun their full retreat, come back and report to me.” The aide nodded and left the same way as Serith. Aurael turned and moved to the flap, opening it enough to gaze outside. He could see the legion, a sea of red as his eyes took in the reserves. He saw the trebuchets that were set up close to his tent, due to their long range, and saw they tensing and then crashing forward to unleash their loads of fiery rocks. Rocks which plunged down into the city , slamming into the structures and sending gouts of flame upward. One slammed into the main building, where the village's government had been, and saw it plunge straight into the structure. There was a pause and then the structure ripped itself apart, a great fiery explosion sending blocks of stone flying through the air. Aurael grunted and turned to a legionnaire. “You, go tell them to stop that and disassemble the trebuchets for traveling. We're moving out.”
*****************
As all of this was going on, a large force of mercenaries waited behind a hill. A great force of horsemen, swordsmen, and archers from all walks of life stayed there. Gaatians, Kallisians, Retharians, all had come to answer the call of Kallisian silver. Strangely, in front of the force, wearing armor and clothing that was befitting a commander, was a very pale figure, with pointed ears. Serith came galloping up, her robe flying about her as her horse came to a stuttering stop before the strange rider. She bowed her head quickly in respect and began to talk. “My Lord Aurael has bid me to inform you that the Legion is pulling out, moving to join the siege at Arthistad. You will take over operations here, with your army. Your orders are so; you are to move into the village and destroy the Gaatian defenders, down to the last man. Once this has been accomplished, you are to evacuate all the civilians, whom shall be spared unless they attack, upon at that point they are to be killed, pending your discretion. Once they are dead or evacuated, you are to burn the village to the ground. You will then take the civilians to the port of Tristam. The civilians are to be handled by our forces there, and you are to immediately take your forces onto the waiting ships, and make towards Arthistad by sea with all haste. Are these orders understood?”