OOC: This thread is open to all but please PM or contact me if you were not part of the Muster in Dort so we can arrange your entrance. All muster players can post here normally. V
IC: The Count was of a foul temper when dawn came. For the last three days his muster to retake Castle Von Beersel from the invading clans had been besieged with problems, setbacks, and annoyances from the outset. Nothing had gone well for the assembled troops, and morale and spirits were at a low.
He grumbled and swore as he buckled on his breastplate, trying to find solace in the fact that with a short march this morningtide, he would finally be home and able to retake the castle in the name of the Duke. War had never been a comfortable topic for the Count. He much preferred the debates of council and the cunning ways of diplomacy over musters such as these. An army was what you relied on after the decisions had been made, not a way to make the decision itself.
He reached for his swordbelt and found his hands were shaking…
***
Vaga Hex hummed a tune long forgotten in most parts of the world. As she cooked some putrid smelling brownish black liquid over a low fire, she wove a small figure out of grass and reeds. Her cheerful humming matched her nimble fingers, as her ancient and withered hands deftly plaited the blades of grass and bits of stick together. Today would be a momentous day, all of her omens and signs pointed to it. Blood would be spilled, she was certain of that, and the sense of anticipation began to build within her.
Smoothing back her wild hair, she put down her little figure and added some greenish and thick liquid from a black jar to the mix. She squinted over the concoction for a moment and with a satisfied nod, returned her attention to her weaving.
Momentous indeed… She thought… Momentous indeed…
The ancient crone laughed ominously as she cocked her head and looked to the east towards the approaching dawn…
***
Captain Marten watched the red embers from the remains of his campfire glow against the growing morning light. He rarely slept before a battle and he expected a fierce fight this day. He rubbed his eyes and stood and stretched. He gave a nudge to his messenger and awoke the young boy that delivered his messages. The communication he had received last night from Dort would need a reply, and he wanted to try and get that done before the muster would awaken as well.
He penned a short note and rolled the parchment into a cylinder for the boy to carry back. This would be his last chance to write home before he expected the army to strike. The messenger tried to rub the sleep from his eyes and with sleepy steps, began to ready his horse. The young man managed to gingerly crawl up into the saddle and he squeaked when he yawned as he mounted. He walked his mount away from the muster, keeping a slow pace as to not awake half the camp.
Marten watched the young messenger pick his way through the still sleeping army with a satisfied nod. He turned back to his tent and began pulling the stakes from the cold, hard ground. He struck his tent and began to roll it into a tight bundle. This would have gladly been done by a number of his subordinates, but Marten was a man who prided himself on living like he used to, and not allowing himself too many luxuries of command. With his tent secured and wrapped, he moved his attention to his belongings, getting an early start on the day. He carefully arranged and ordered his possessions, each had a proper place. Marten was a firm believer in taking good care of one’s equipment, so that it would take good care of him. With that done, the next item on his mental checklist was readying his own horse.
He was carrying his saddle over to his fine brown mare when an arrow took him in the throat. Marten fell to the earth like a sack of grain without a word, without a grunt, without a spark of life.
***
The Clansman moved down into the encampment on stealthy feet, determined to strike the head off this monstrous metallic serpent before it got a chance to rise and lash out against them. They moved into various places and slit the throats of the ones their spies had identified as leaders. A cock crowed in the distance, causing some to stir from their dark dreams and troubled sleep...
The Battle of Islay had begun.
The Battle of Islay (Samheen 27th )
The Battle of Islay (Samheen 27th )
Last edited by Vanadius on Fri Apr 07, 2006 2:56 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Phillinie
Phillinie's morning
Phillinie had had trouble sleeping all night. The constant talk of ill omens and bad luck surrounding this fledgling campaign had disturbed him more than he knew and had caused him to toss and turn most of the evening. giving up on sleep he decided to go ahead and pack his things, get on his armor and practice some of the moves Tin had been giving him. He still was wary of fighting in his new garb. He tried to move silently not to disturb other mates trying to sleep close by. The few noises outside the tent that he could hear Phill attributed to other restless soldiers.
There will be plenty of time to strike the tents before this group gets moving again, Phill thought to himself. Some brisk morning air and stretching will put me in a better mood and spirits. Phill placed his pack near the door of the tent, checked to see his knives were in place and began to secure his armor as he reached for the tent flap.
There will be plenty of time to strike the tents before this group gets moving again, Phill thought to himself. Some brisk morning air and stretching will put me in a better mood and spirits. Phill placed his pack near the door of the tent, checked to see his knives were in place and began to secure his armor as he reached for the tent flap.
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Guest
OOC: Just adding a bit of NPC’s notice near the three lads who share a tent with Vale and Tin, we can suggest five people in a small tent nice, cramp but relative warm.
IC: Phillinie felt being stared as he reached for the flap, noticing a young fighter gazing at him with an awkward look. The tent the band shared together was rather cold and a bit damp was the flap at touch from the renowned moist weather common to the Islay. Tin was initially curled up in the corner of the tent but when the crow made its beacon and the young achadhiel started moving Tin responded sharply but with a quiet tone. “Do not venture out right now, something is wrong did you not hear the call of death?†The awakened soldier got up and Phil could see that some flashes of the skin of Tin’s legs suggesting he had to ready his pants. “I cannot hear any of the guards or any the calls they make all is silent and the floor to cold…†Tin found himself struggling trying to fit into a pair of soft white leggings who seemed a tad to wide but came on with some unusual effort. Rolling on the back on the floor Tin made a poor look his long braided ponytail wiggling over the brown blanket and blond curly pipes of hair moving back and forth along the temples and the ears. Dressing up one could see that Tin’s lower suit was top to bottom made from red quilt with gold coloured threads and tiny studs to make the padding thicker and more even. This was quite different in contrast to the dull brown wool the others enjoyed and would suggest Tin had made enough money to purchase a rather pleasant looking custom, small sized but delicate. The little lad trying to worm into the battle gear was not very masculine and seemed a bit more the type to enjoy a good meal rather then running every morning to stay thin. Whilst squirming on the floor the ashen youth looked not to well at dressing the garb of a soldier and it could take a few burns before battle readiness was achieved and soft moans could be heard as he tried to dress in a rather gauche manner.
Vale seemed to be far away in the lands of dreams laying down in disturbed near Enzirou. He only looked up a bit at some sounds with sleep in his eyes even making contact with both tin and Phillinie with a grunt. “Mommy… pet the carrots… one… more time…†Then he simply tumbled over and continued sleeping softly snoring. Vale was truly the type to talk in his sleep with quite some imagination.
IC: Phillinie felt being stared as he reached for the flap, noticing a young fighter gazing at him with an awkward look. The tent the band shared together was rather cold and a bit damp was the flap at touch from the renowned moist weather common to the Islay. Tin was initially curled up in the corner of the tent but when the crow made its beacon and the young achadhiel started moving Tin responded sharply but with a quiet tone. “Do not venture out right now, something is wrong did you not hear the call of death?†The awakened soldier got up and Phil could see that some flashes of the skin of Tin’s legs suggesting he had to ready his pants. “I cannot hear any of the guards or any the calls they make all is silent and the floor to cold…†Tin found himself struggling trying to fit into a pair of soft white leggings who seemed a tad to wide but came on with some unusual effort. Rolling on the back on the floor Tin made a poor look his long braided ponytail wiggling over the brown blanket and blond curly pipes of hair moving back and forth along the temples and the ears. Dressing up one could see that Tin’s lower suit was top to bottom made from red quilt with gold coloured threads and tiny studs to make the padding thicker and more even. This was quite different in contrast to the dull brown wool the others enjoyed and would suggest Tin had made enough money to purchase a rather pleasant looking custom, small sized but delicate. The little lad trying to worm into the battle gear was not very masculine and seemed a bit more the type to enjoy a good meal rather then running every morning to stay thin. Whilst squirming on the floor the ashen youth looked not to well at dressing the garb of a soldier and it could take a few burns before battle readiness was achieved and soft moans could be heard as he tried to dress in a rather gauche manner.
Vale seemed to be far away in the lands of dreams laying down in disturbed near Enzirou. He only looked up a bit at some sounds with sleep in his eyes even making contact with both tin and Phillinie with a grunt. “Mommy… pet the carrots… one… more time…†Then he simply tumbled over and continued sleeping softly snoring. Vale was truly the type to talk in his sleep with quite some imagination.
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Phillinie
Phill began in a whisper, "Well Tin, I don't know much about this call of death you are talking about sounds like more of that bad omen rubbish people have be jawing about. You may have more experience in these sorts of campaigns than I, but if you think there is something amiss don't ya think we should wake and warn the others. Besides, I don't hear a battle or much less movement outside. Is it your consol that we should sit here ready to go while the others sleep, or hide in our little tent from a threat we know nothing about like a mouse afraid of a cat? Neither seem like good options to me." Phill's voice started very low as not to awake his tent mates but he was showing some agitation in his gestures and eyes.
"If you think something is wrong lets get our squad up and prepared, otherwise I'll be going out to stretch."
"If you think something is wrong lets get our squad up and prepared, otherwise I'll be going out to stretch."
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Guest
Tin looked somewhat startled in the middle of things looking at Phillinie as if they had misunderstood each other. “I thought… something was wrong as I heard a cock make a call before dawn… I had a strange dream about… I believe in omens of… Leave it I thought my feelings where right as I noticed you getting ready for a fight…†The youth’s voice was soft and melodic, a bit hard to hear over the snores of the others.
The eyes saddened somewhat the lad got up and running readying the ring on quilt in the shadows of the corner. Tin’s nasal helmet had a quilted neck and shoulder with ring coverage attached to it and he could be seen playing with it between its long fingers with certain uneasiness. “I’m sorry Phil, merely my life I had always the need of having to look over my shoulder maybe I’m having a small case of suspicion. Be true and tell me yourself that it isn’t odd that you walk out in the middle of the night… there are spies… infiltrators… tell me you are not one of these… and I will trust your word. I…†Showing a faint smile Tin Placed the helmet on the right spot and tightened the belt around the waist whilst giving a tongue-tied look at the Achadhiel.
It was not one necessarily of distrust, but more of a youngster who had fear… fear of something going wrong, fear of the conflict that would come. Tin looked not as battle hardened as he showed during the training at dawn, it made him look even smaller then he looked before both figural and literal, he had been standing on a small heights while addressing his comrades that morning, to reduce his obvious flaw… size. Trying now to stand on its toes still didn’t cut it in Tin’s eyes Phil was a giant and he himself was just a short youngster.
The eyes saddened somewhat the lad got up and running readying the ring on quilt in the shadows of the corner. Tin’s nasal helmet had a quilted neck and shoulder with ring coverage attached to it and he could be seen playing with it between its long fingers with certain uneasiness. “I’m sorry Phil, merely my life I had always the need of having to look over my shoulder maybe I’m having a small case of suspicion. Be true and tell me yourself that it isn’t odd that you walk out in the middle of the night… there are spies… infiltrators… tell me you are not one of these… and I will trust your word. I…†Showing a faint smile Tin Placed the helmet on the right spot and tightened the belt around the waist whilst giving a tongue-tied look at the Achadhiel.
It was not one necessarily of distrust, but more of a youngster who had fear… fear of something going wrong, fear of the conflict that would come. Tin looked not as battle hardened as he showed during the training at dawn, it made him look even smaller then he looked before both figural and literal, he had been standing on a small heights while addressing his comrades that morning, to reduce his obvious flaw… size. Trying now to stand on its toes still didn’t cut it in Tin’s eyes Phil was a giant and he himself was just a short youngster.
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Phillinie
"No worries, Tin. It's not that much before dawn, the sun will be up soon. My Mom always told me To speak or think of evil is to bring it to yourself. People will see bad omens in anything if they look for them. Does not the rooster greet the day every morning? I was just going out to practice some of those moves you showed us in the cool morning air for a wake up. You look like you are about ready. Care to join me? I could use the exercise."
The anxiousness that had been keeping Phil from sleeping was getting no better with him just standing there. He was looking forward to working off some of this nervous energy. And while he hated to admit it, the ill omen talk of the youngster was making him feel a bit uneasy.
The anxiousness that had been keeping Phil from sleeping was getting no better with him just standing there. He was looking forward to working off some of this nervous energy. And while he hated to admit it, the ill omen talk of the youngster was making him feel a bit uneasy.
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Guest
A faint beam came from the cheeks of Tin who blushed embarrassed by the superstition in which most of those living in the rural countries of Dort believed very strongly in. On the same quiet tone he began to stutter a bit as shyness made the best of him, just like when they first met. “You must… think it is folly believing in omens, I admire your dedication as myself I can not neglect these facts they are burned within my way.†Tin gathered his maces onto the belt he had just strapped tightly around both the waist and along the torso. Quickly folding the blanket into the sack and making then sure the sleeping kit was properly tied above to the small pack. It was rather apparent the youngster always travelled with this way, which was small enough to be little hinder and only contained the essentials.
Readying the shield upon the left arm Tin looked ready for some nightly exercise, even though the 24†targe was enough to protect fully the torso, even some of the hip and looked wielded by Tin relatively light and easy to manoeuvre. The large mace worn was flanged with some decent ornaments but more made to create and easier blow then simple looks, it had a somewhat gothic appearance if one could recognize such a feature. The smaller mace was simpler in design and meant for disabling an opponent having rather then sharp spikes blunted of knobs, still one could easily break a bone when hit with this but the flanged mace seemed much better at doing the job. Taking out of the corner where he had slept earlier a skin was taken, from within it Tin pulled out a rather stylish morningstar 27" in length and had a 10†chain with a spike ball attached to it, showing serious business and the youth only grinned slightly at Phil. “What do you think is best served for sparring I do not know how well a combatant you may be Sir. Is this a bit over the top would you prefer I strap it to my pack and use the tiny one instead? I also can use my frying pan if that would be more fun for the sake of dispute.†Smiling one could easily tell it was not threat but merely a tease that was being used to lessen the tenseness of the situation; the ringer had learned that a bit of humour could relieve stress.
Tin seemed more at ease but had little clue on how well the elfin combat abilities where, perhaps thinking Phil and the others of being semi-seasoned soldiers. True they had shared a bit of kick and tumble techniques but so far one could tell Tin looked like the kind to kick upon the shins or exposed groin and the hit you around the head with whatever was available, even a common black frying pan nicely strapped at the back of its pack. This was the type a mother would bake pancakes in one could smell the sweet scent of syrup already with a bit of imagination.
In the back the sleeping mates could be seen snoring and drooling their way as they were almost cuddled nicely next to each other. A small chance existed the little chitchat could awaken them or perhaps Vale’s muttering about what sounded like raising a pack of carrot for musical reasons to amuse chickens…
Readying the shield upon the left arm Tin looked ready for some nightly exercise, even though the 24†targe was enough to protect fully the torso, even some of the hip and looked wielded by Tin relatively light and easy to manoeuvre. The large mace worn was flanged with some decent ornaments but more made to create and easier blow then simple looks, it had a somewhat gothic appearance if one could recognize such a feature. The smaller mace was simpler in design and meant for disabling an opponent having rather then sharp spikes blunted of knobs, still one could easily break a bone when hit with this but the flanged mace seemed much better at doing the job. Taking out of the corner where he had slept earlier a skin was taken, from within it Tin pulled out a rather stylish morningstar 27" in length and had a 10†chain with a spike ball attached to it, showing serious business and the youth only grinned slightly at Phil. “What do you think is best served for sparring I do not know how well a combatant you may be Sir. Is this a bit over the top would you prefer I strap it to my pack and use the tiny one instead? I also can use my frying pan if that would be more fun for the sake of dispute.†Smiling one could easily tell it was not threat but merely a tease that was being used to lessen the tenseness of the situation; the ringer had learned that a bit of humour could relieve stress.
Tin seemed more at ease but had little clue on how well the elfin combat abilities where, perhaps thinking Phil and the others of being semi-seasoned soldiers. True they had shared a bit of kick and tumble techniques but so far one could tell Tin looked like the kind to kick upon the shins or exposed groin and the hit you around the head with whatever was available, even a common black frying pan nicely strapped at the back of its pack. This was the type a mother would bake pancakes in one could smell the sweet scent of syrup already with a bit of imagination.
In the back the sleeping mates could be seen snoring and drooling their way as they were almost cuddled nicely next to each other. A small chance existed the little chitchat could awaken them or perhaps Vale’s muttering about what sounded like raising a pack of carrot for musical reasons to amuse chickens…
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Phillinie
"Best for sparing eh? Well I don't want to get injured before the battle begins so you best put that pointy ball aside. It would do me well to practice against a mace but I will wait until it is padded. Bruises will heal quicker than cuts. I need to work on my defense as much as anything. I can tell this thick material will cause me to spend more energy and effort when dodging and blocking. Like most of these people I am new to this campaigning." Phill shrugged his shoulders and adjusted the armor for emphasis. "Still not completely comfortable in this thing."
"Anyway, we could jaw about practice long enough to run out of time to do it. The sun is already starting to rise. We're going to miss our chance for some refreshing morning air."
Phill adjusted his bracers and checked the knife in the sheath on the back of each one. He then checked for his "new" hunting knife. It was his first spoils of this campaigning and he kind of liked the stag engraved upon it. Although he did like this knife, it was a grim reminder of the brutal treatment of children and women by the clansmen that Phil had witnessed. Phill's other reminder, and badge of revenge, the little red scarf recovered from the young girl was tucked safely behind his left bracer.
"Well, you ready?" Phill asked as he motioned to the tent exit.
"Anyway, we could jaw about practice long enough to run out of time to do it. The sun is already starting to rise. We're going to miss our chance for some refreshing morning air."
Phill adjusted his bracers and checked the knife in the sheath on the back of each one. He then checked for his "new" hunting knife. It was his first spoils of this campaigning and he kind of liked the stag engraved upon it. Although he did like this knife, it was a grim reminder of the brutal treatment of children and women by the clansmen that Phil had witnessed. Phill's other reminder, and badge of revenge, the little red scarf recovered from the young girl was tucked safely behind his left bracer.
"Well, you ready?" Phill asked as he motioned to the tent exit.
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Guest
Tin had an inside amusement hearing of the ‘pointy ball’ which sounded that perhaps this knave was not so well skilled as initially thought. Merely soft snickering could be heard as he listened further feeling more at ease knowing Phil was feeling a bit intimidated but as a man he of course didn’t show this, it was quite funny for the mace-wielding conscript to hear. The larger flailing weapon got tightly secured upon the belt a bit more backwards so it rested on the lower back. “Do not worry so much I always use the knobbed one for practice and we won’t be striking at each others body so much. See it more as a dance we are holding everything going in a slower pace enacting upon the moves made by another and counteracting this with a simple step, dodge, block or respond.†Tin’s blue eyes flashed for a moment while his wrist turned back and forth turning the small knobbed round-headed hand mace, with relative ease.
Jumping suddenly forward the youth made an eager expression of a long for a bit of combat. Opening the flap she stuck her head out a bit looking carefully as if suspecting getting hit on the head by a sergeant. “All seems quiet outside, I have to be honest this is my first real campaign till now so far… Until this moment I more did my duty protecting children and old folk from marauders near the villages in my surrounding.†With a quick step the enlisted lad moved outside the shield close to the body as if suspecting being attacked but a soft snickering lessened this action. The sun he not seen the sky yet and a few small fires could be seen strewn around. Not much activity could be noticed except for a few regulars standing guard but they were more lazing about then actual paying attention, moral and order looked terrible if one knew how a campaign site had to be maintained.
Tin stood by looking at Phil as he walked outside after him and one could now notice how thickly packed the youth actually was. Covered from head to toe in quilted garb and ring covered padded hauberk it looked hardly mobile still he hopped about with a certain grace and flair suggesting experience. “Ok we will be going easy at each other as we do not know each others actions, lets focus on blocking and dodging, instead of bashing one another.†Looking Phil up and down Tin took a bit of a stance but then noticed the lad tunic being a tad ill equipped. “I can help you tidy up your tunic to make it more comfortable you seem to be wearing the top to loose and the bottom to tight, a common mistake you should go for usefulness instead of looks, boy.†The boy came out as a tease, perhaps a way of him to try leveling the entire length and age issue. Tin looked quite helpful and eager to aid Phil in straightening out his gear even making a few steps forward in a pre attempt to ‘operate’ on the lad.
The morning air was cool and a tad misty and if the sun would surface likely it could take some additional time for it to vanquish the soft vapours dancing ghostly over the grounds. A yawn could be heard in the far background coming from a guard who likely pulled an all-nighter and now waited to be relieved for a well-deserved rest. He was hardly to see merely being a shadowy figure holding a spear in the background, everything seemed safe and not much could be heard accept for soft snores and animal noises.
Jumping suddenly forward the youth made an eager expression of a long for a bit of combat. Opening the flap she stuck her head out a bit looking carefully as if suspecting getting hit on the head by a sergeant. “All seems quiet outside, I have to be honest this is my first real campaign till now so far… Until this moment I more did my duty protecting children and old folk from marauders near the villages in my surrounding.†With a quick step the enlisted lad moved outside the shield close to the body as if suspecting being attacked but a soft snickering lessened this action. The sun he not seen the sky yet and a few small fires could be seen strewn around. Not much activity could be noticed except for a few regulars standing guard but they were more lazing about then actual paying attention, moral and order looked terrible if one knew how a campaign site had to be maintained.
Tin stood by looking at Phil as he walked outside after him and one could now notice how thickly packed the youth actually was. Covered from head to toe in quilted garb and ring covered padded hauberk it looked hardly mobile still he hopped about with a certain grace and flair suggesting experience. “Ok we will be going easy at each other as we do not know each others actions, lets focus on blocking and dodging, instead of bashing one another.†Looking Phil up and down Tin took a bit of a stance but then noticed the lad tunic being a tad ill equipped. “I can help you tidy up your tunic to make it more comfortable you seem to be wearing the top to loose and the bottom to tight, a common mistake you should go for usefulness instead of looks, boy.†The boy came out as a tease, perhaps a way of him to try leveling the entire length and age issue. Tin looked quite helpful and eager to aid Phil in straightening out his gear even making a few steps forward in a pre attempt to ‘operate’ on the lad.
The morning air was cool and a tad misty and if the sun would surface likely it could take some additional time for it to vanquish the soft vapours dancing ghostly over the grounds. A yawn could be heard in the far background coming from a guard who likely pulled an all-nighter and now waited to be relieved for a well-deserved rest. He was hardly to see merely being a shadowy figure holding a spear in the background, everything seemed safe and not much could be heard accept for soft snores and animal noises.
All night.
Stupid standing at post all night...
Aron had joined the army to make a little money and to perhaps have a little power over the locals. He was a young man, and well liked by the others for the little things he did. Fetching water, switching shifts, scrubbing pots were the things he did as small gestures to make himself stand out. His fellow soldiers gave him extra rations, the best equipment and other things to repay him for doing the things they did not want to do.
But Aron had drawn the short straw last night as the watches were being picked, and he mumbled and grumbled softly under his breath that he had to stand all night. At least they were near Islay now, and this whole thing would be over soon.
Dawn was coming, and the first traces of light could now be seen. Aron stomped his feet to get the blood circulating again and heard the tent flaps beginning to rustle and sounds of first life from the amassed army.
A quick march, perhaps a little skirmish with some of those Clan boys and I can sleep as...
Aron never finished that thought as he was roughly grabbed from behind. The Clansman slit his throat and held Aron's body close as his life faded away in red rivulets down the front of his ring mail shirt.
The Clansman was ruthlessly efficient as he ended the sentry's life, but as he held the dying man, he could see others emerging from a nearby tent. The distraction allowing Aron's spear to fall free...
***
As Tin and Phil ventured outside the tent and readied themselves for a little sparring, the noise of metal could be heard against stone. The sentry that stood silently nearby was now longer standing, and his spear had fallen to the soil, it's metal head ringing against a stone.
The Clansman slowly released Aron's body and the fallen guard slid lifeless to the ground. Dressed in warm furs and animal pelts, the highlander stood, long knife in a bloody and grimy hand and he stared at Tin and Phillinie, waiting and expectant...
Stupid standing at post all night...
Aron had joined the army to make a little money and to perhaps have a little power over the locals. He was a young man, and well liked by the others for the little things he did. Fetching water, switching shifts, scrubbing pots were the things he did as small gestures to make himself stand out. His fellow soldiers gave him extra rations, the best equipment and other things to repay him for doing the things they did not want to do.
But Aron had drawn the short straw last night as the watches were being picked, and he mumbled and grumbled softly under his breath that he had to stand all night. At least they were near Islay now, and this whole thing would be over soon.
Dawn was coming, and the first traces of light could now be seen. Aron stomped his feet to get the blood circulating again and heard the tent flaps beginning to rustle and sounds of first life from the amassed army.
A quick march, perhaps a little skirmish with some of those Clan boys and I can sleep as...
Aron never finished that thought as he was roughly grabbed from behind. The Clansman slit his throat and held Aron's body close as his life faded away in red rivulets down the front of his ring mail shirt.
The Clansman was ruthlessly efficient as he ended the sentry's life, but as he held the dying man, he could see others emerging from a nearby tent. The distraction allowing Aron's spear to fall free...
***
As Tin and Phil ventured outside the tent and readied themselves for a little sparring, the noise of metal could be heard against stone. The sentry that stood silently nearby was now longer standing, and his spear had fallen to the soil, it's metal head ringing against a stone.
The Clansman slowly released Aron's body and the fallen guard slid lifeless to the ground. Dressed in warm furs and animal pelts, the highlander stood, long knife in a bloody and grimy hand and he stared at Tin and Phillinie, waiting and expectant...
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Guest
Enzirou opened his eyes and groggily wiped the sleep from his eyes. He looked over at Vale who was quietly talking in his sleep, "Dosen't he ever stop talking". He laughed quietly to himself and then began to equip his undergarments and then all his armour and weapons, "Phill and Tin must be outside". He slowly strapped on his padded armour and made sure everyhting was fitted comfortably. He then equipped his buckler to his left arm,his sword on the left side of his waist and his bows and arrows to his back. After equipping all his armour he stepped outside and streched his mucsles as the sleep had been slightly un-comfortable with so many people crampped into such a small tent. He then approached Tin and Phill and quietly said, " Good morning".
Live or die
Doran was laying there an watched the tent flap open and Enzirou walk out realizing him and Vale were the last to get up. He bolted upright and quickly dressed himself trying not to wake Vale in efforts of putting on his armor. Before putting on his breastplate he considered putting on the wool tunic he been given. It would give him more protection he thought, but they would be engaging the enemy today. The wool tunic would make him sweat more and it would be more restrictive in his actions he thought.
He considered this for moment if this was night he I wear the wool tunic for warmth as well as protection ,but since it was day his regular would do. After finishing adjusting his armor he patted the metal breast plate on his chest and then placed his helm on his head. Nothing more than a leather one with iron bands ,but his head did feel protected none the less. He gathered the rest of his belongings stowed them in his backpack. Strapped his dagger to his left leg and grabbed his axe. Took one last look at Vale and smiled at least I'm not the last he thought and opened the flap of the tent and joined the rest of his squad.
Doran looked up at Enzirou and made few stretching motions then said . You ready for today?"
He considered this for moment if this was night he I wear the wool tunic for warmth as well as protection ,but since it was day his regular would do. After finishing adjusting his armor he patted the metal breast plate on his chest and then placed his helm on his head. Nothing more than a leather one with iron bands ,but his head did feel protected none the less. He gathered the rest of his belongings stowed them in his backpack. Strapped his dagger to his left leg and grabbed his axe. Took one last look at Vale and smiled at least I'm not the last he thought and opened the flap of the tent and joined the rest of his squad.
Doran looked up at Enzirou and made few stretching motions then said . You ready for today?"
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Guest
Enzirou looked at Doran, "Yup I'm ready but by the looks of it you,Phill,Tin and myself are the only one's awake. Which means we'll probably have a bit of wait while all the other soldiers get up". He began to strecth his muscles starting from his head and working down to his feet. "You know you should get warmed up you never know when some sort of skirmish with the enemy may occur".
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Phillinie
The first battle begins.
Phillinie emerged from the tent with Tin. Slightly annoyed at his sparing partners continual comments on his wearing of armor. It felt quite restrictive as is across the chest. The waist did not seem to hamper his movement as much. Tin was beginning to sound like a nagging mother in his ears. Phill began to adjust his tunic yet again when a sound of metal hitting stone distracted him. He quickly turned his head in that direction and found himself staring at a clansmen standing over a dead or dying sentry.
As this sight registered in his mind, several thoughts went quickly through his mind. First, he was never going to live down the conversation he just had with Tin. A bit more credence will have to be given to bad omens and a cock crowing before dawn. Phill was sure if they made it through this he would not hear the last of it from Tin. Secondly, and even more important, an alarm must be raised and his tent mates, corporal and sergeant needed to be alerted to the attack.
Expecting that one clansman might mean 50, Phill jumped from in front of the tent away placing the tent in between the view of the clansmen while he yelled to Tin. “Sound the alarm, clansmen are attacking!†As he pulled his knives from their sheaths he continued yelling through the tent material, “Doran, Rou, Vale grab your weapons!†Phill planned on making his way to his corporal’s and sergeant’s tents to make sure they were awake as well.
As this sight registered in his mind, several thoughts went quickly through his mind. First, he was never going to live down the conversation he just had with Tin. A bit more credence will have to be given to bad omens and a cock crowing before dawn. Phill was sure if they made it through this he would not hear the last of it from Tin. Secondly, and even more important, an alarm must be raised and his tent mates, corporal and sergeant needed to be alerted to the attack.
Expecting that one clansman might mean 50, Phill jumped from in front of the tent away placing the tent in between the view of the clansmen while he yelled to Tin. “Sound the alarm, clansmen are attacking!†As he pulled his knives from their sheaths he continued yelling through the tent material, “Doran, Rou, Vale grab your weapons!†Phill planned on making his way to his corporal’s and sergeant’s tents to make sure they were awake as well.
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Guest
Tin was first somewhat stunned by the sight of the clansman, somewhat strangely gazing as their eyes met. It was the first time he had came face to face with a clansman in this action. Truly meeting one during due was more mundane, still this one was dressed for combat and Tin’s eyes widened as he saw the blood drip from the man’s hand and al he could do was watch in twisted awe.
The sudden call for arms by Phil shook Tin to his senses in a rather sudden manner. Acting upon Phil’s words he quickly pulled his shield to the chest and started banging with the studded knuckles of his thick gloves upon the shield. *Clang* *Clang* A rather loud noise echoed through the tent filled encampment and Tin started screaming loudly much like a cat being skinned alive, the cry was rather deafening and one might wonder how such a young lad can create such a noise. Tin stayed near Phillinie at all times making sure that young achadhiel would not be aimed by a marauder stalking the site. The mist was slightly distraction and Tin could feel the hype of the whole situation as his heart started beating faster and senses heightened cause of adrenaline.
***
Vale jumped up so fast his head hit the top tent, which was a little over 6†feet high. As quickly as he could the elfin dressed, quickly throwing on his shirt, battle tunic and his black studded jacket on top of it. It took him merely a burn to get fully ready and he made sure he was before going outside. He was equipped with a sickle shaped blade and in his other hand a sword, much like an old style Gladius. He had additional small throwing blades on his belt, boots and bracers, common choice for a skirmisher. Still it would be a burn before he could get himself ready and the lads would have to manage without him till that time.
The sudden call for arms by Phil shook Tin to his senses in a rather sudden manner. Acting upon Phil’s words he quickly pulled his shield to the chest and started banging with the studded knuckles of his thick gloves upon the shield. *Clang* *Clang* A rather loud noise echoed through the tent filled encampment and Tin started screaming loudly much like a cat being skinned alive, the cry was rather deafening and one might wonder how such a young lad can create such a noise. Tin stayed near Phillinie at all times making sure that young achadhiel would not be aimed by a marauder stalking the site. The mist was slightly distraction and Tin could feel the hype of the whole situation as his heart started beating faster and senses heightened cause of adrenaline.
***
Vale jumped up so fast his head hit the top tent, which was a little over 6†feet high. As quickly as he could the elfin dressed, quickly throwing on his shirt, battle tunic and his black studded jacket on top of it. It took him merely a burn to get fully ready and he made sure he was before going outside. He was equipped with a sickle shaped blade and in his other hand a sword, much like an old style Gladius. He had additional small throwing blades on his belt, boots and bracers, common choice for a skirmisher. Still it would be a burn before he could get himself ready and the lads would have to manage without him till that time.
Before Phillinie could make his way anywhere, there was the matter of a large clansman to deal with. The highlander's eyes flicked from Phillinie to Tin and he raised his arm and pointed towards the latter as he began to raise the alarm.
Arrows whistled and hissed through the air and Tin was struck in the back near his right shoulder blade, the arrow slamming into him with a sound that sounded like a sharp dagger punching through thick paper. The young lad cried out and went down like a puppet with his strings cut. The Clansman leapt forward as the young man fell, intent on finishing the young man off. The highlander was swift, and was suddenly standing over Tin with his long knife....
***
A horn sounded, and it's clarion call roared through the stillness and quiet of the morning. Heads of the men sleeping on the ground began to rise to find themselves ambushed. Tent flaps began to rustle and open, and cries of ambush began to rise like a tidal wave throughout the camp. The sounds of ringing steel could be heard, and screams of pain and anger rose even higher still.
A man near Doran shouted. "To the Count! Save the Count!"
The man pointed in the direction of the rising sun and a small group of Clansman could be seen running in the direction of the Count's tent. They were hard to see clearly in the misty morning, but their flowing hair and flowing kilts distinguished them against the light morning fog. The Clansman were fighting as they moved towards the Count, cutting down man after man as their enemies tried to rise from their slumber. Arrows buzzed in from the surrounding trees and shrubs, killing many in their path.
In the panicked shuffle, a firebrand was kicked from its embers, and the tent that Vale was trying to dress in was suddenly ablaze, the oiled cloth catching quickly. Men rose and looked for their commanders, only to find them dead in their beds. Hysteria rose as the mixed units of army and mercenary alike found themselves in the midst of a rising tide of panic and chaos...
***
Count Johan had just finished buckling on his sword when the cries and shouts of ambush reached his tent. Always more of a diplomat than a soldier, the Count hesitated, unsure of what he should do. He stood and stared at the tent flap, wringing his hands and listening to the clamour of death and battle outside. After a few flickers, duty and responsibility took root, and he began to untie the tent flaps to make his way outside.
As he stepped from his tent, he could not believe his eyes. pandemonium surrounded him. Men were on their feet everywhere. Some where trying to dress, some were standing with weapons in hand, some were fighting and lashing out against their own as fear and panic shook them to their core. His eyes roamed over the chaotic scene, looking for some sign of resistance. Looking for Marten, or Henry, or any other of his Captains, certain they were organizing a counterattack. Then he saw them. A dozen or so, coming up the hill at him. The clansman were cutting a wide swath through the encampment as they made their way towards him. His shaking hands drew his sword as he prepared to defend himself...
Arrows whistled and hissed through the air and Tin was struck in the back near his right shoulder blade, the arrow slamming into him with a sound that sounded like a sharp dagger punching through thick paper. The young lad cried out and went down like a puppet with his strings cut. The Clansman leapt forward as the young man fell, intent on finishing the young man off. The highlander was swift, and was suddenly standing over Tin with his long knife....
***
A horn sounded, and it's clarion call roared through the stillness and quiet of the morning. Heads of the men sleeping on the ground began to rise to find themselves ambushed. Tent flaps began to rustle and open, and cries of ambush began to rise like a tidal wave throughout the camp. The sounds of ringing steel could be heard, and screams of pain and anger rose even higher still.
A man near Doran shouted. "To the Count! Save the Count!"
The man pointed in the direction of the rising sun and a small group of Clansman could be seen running in the direction of the Count's tent. They were hard to see clearly in the misty morning, but their flowing hair and flowing kilts distinguished them against the light morning fog. The Clansman were fighting as they moved towards the Count, cutting down man after man as their enemies tried to rise from their slumber. Arrows buzzed in from the surrounding trees and shrubs, killing many in their path.
In the panicked shuffle, a firebrand was kicked from its embers, and the tent that Vale was trying to dress in was suddenly ablaze, the oiled cloth catching quickly. Men rose and looked for their commanders, only to find them dead in their beds. Hysteria rose as the mixed units of army and mercenary alike found themselves in the midst of a rising tide of panic and chaos...
***
Count Johan had just finished buckling on his sword when the cries and shouts of ambush reached his tent. Always more of a diplomat than a soldier, the Count hesitated, unsure of what he should do. He stood and stared at the tent flap, wringing his hands and listening to the clamour of death and battle outside. After a few flickers, duty and responsibility took root, and he began to untie the tent flaps to make his way outside.
As he stepped from his tent, he could not believe his eyes. pandemonium surrounded him. Men were on their feet everywhere. Some where trying to dress, some were standing with weapons in hand, some were fighting and lashing out against their own as fear and panic shook them to their core. His eyes roamed over the chaotic scene, looking for some sign of resistance. Looking for Marten, or Henry, or any other of his Captains, certain they were organizing a counterattack. Then he saw them. A dozen or so, coming up the hill at him. The clansman were cutting a wide swath through the encampment as they made their way towards him. His shaking hands drew his sword as he prepared to defend himself...
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Phillinie
Phil and the clansman
Phill, having thought about jumping behind the tent, turned his attention to his fallen comrade. Phill hoped that the young man's armor had forded some protection and the wound would not be fatal. It was clear Tin's life would be ended by the clans men standing over him if swift action was not taken. The loud cacophony of people coming to action and arrows whizzing by filled his ears but his focus was on the clansmen. The flames appearing on the tent were only echos in his mind. With the clansman's focus on Tin, Phill hoped to be able to take him out quickly.
While pulling his knives in his hands, he attempted a hard kick to the clansman's knee with his right foot to knock the clansman down and disable his movement. In Phill's left hand he placed the knife along his forearm to use for blocking if the clansmen would strike and in his right was his other knife with the blade poised to strike. If properly executed his forward momentum would put Phillinie behind the clansmen.
If Phill was successful with his kick to the knee he will press the attack and attempt to kill the clansmen with slice to the neck.
If the kick is unsuccessful, Phill will still press the attack drawing the clansman's attention away from the fallen Tin.
While he was in the Count's service, Phill's foremost thought was for his squad and more immediately the rescue of Tin. There seemed to be many rushing up to help the Count. Phill thought that battle would be long over by the time he got there.
While pulling his knives in his hands, he attempted a hard kick to the clansman's knee with his right foot to knock the clansman down and disable his movement. In Phill's left hand he placed the knife along his forearm to use for blocking if the clansmen would strike and in his right was his other knife with the blade poised to strike. If properly executed his forward momentum would put Phillinie behind the clansmen.
If Phill was successful with his kick to the knee he will press the attack and attempt to kill the clansmen with slice to the neck.
If the kick is unsuccessful, Phill will still press the attack drawing the clansman's attention away from the fallen Tin.
While he was in the Count's service, Phill's foremost thought was for his squad and more immediately the rescue of Tin. There seemed to be many rushing up to help the Count. Phill thought that battle would be long over by the time he got there.
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Guest
Tin was stunned by the harsh pierce, which came as an utter surprise to him. An agonizing pain erupted through the right shoulder and he knew he was hit severely and also from behind. It had been just below the ring mantle of his coif rather unlucky, most likely a narrow headed arrow landing through a ring or a broad one forcing the doubled ring to open. Father your teachings… I remember the lessons ring weighs at ease upon the quilt be wary of arrows flying strong… do not let me die here now, I have to get up… try to stand… Lying flat faced on the ground the hard hit and sudden pain left him with a sense of unreality, as if it was all a strange dream never before had little Tin gotten hurt this bad before. It would take at least a while before Tin would be able to determine if his wound was severe or that his thick quilt and padding had lessened the arrow’s puncture.
The fallen one heard that Phillinie would protect him and that laid him at ease, closing the eyes for a while. Thoughts of trying to help the young elfin to fight raced through the young soldier’s mind and he couldn’t lay idle when this could be to dangerous for Phil to handle. If I can muster the strength to grab the enemies ankle… the pain it is too agonizing… mother… give me strength… if he needs help I need to be strong to intervene. I must if he cannot bare I have to aid my comrade… bite glove… wound… help boy… Many thought raised through young Tin’s mind as for Phil and the others seen they would be on their own.
***
Vale noticed all hell breaking lose and knew that he had very little time and trying to go through the front door would proof hazardous. With skill and cunning he used his sharp sickle to cut a hole in the not burning side of the tent then making a small hole to leap through, question would be if he was able to do this in time and if what was waiting out there was much better then he was in right now. Outside if it was safe, he could try to pull the tent apart to prevent everyone’s things from getting burned to a crisp. A dwarf, he knew could be pretty made when a lazy lad let his few possessions be burned beyond recognization.
The fallen one heard that Phillinie would protect him and that laid him at ease, closing the eyes for a while. Thoughts of trying to help the young elfin to fight raced through the young soldier’s mind and he couldn’t lay idle when this could be to dangerous for Phil to handle. If I can muster the strength to grab the enemies ankle… the pain it is too agonizing… mother… give me strength… if he needs help I need to be strong to intervene. I must if he cannot bare I have to aid my comrade… bite glove… wound… help boy… Many thought raised through young Tin’s mind as for Phil and the others seen they would be on their own.
***
Vale noticed all hell breaking lose and knew that he had very little time and trying to go through the front door would proof hazardous. With skill and cunning he used his sharp sickle to cut a hole in the not burning side of the tent then making a small hole to leap through, question would be if he was able to do this in time and if what was waiting out there was much better then he was in right now. Outside if it was safe, he could try to pull the tent apart to prevent everyone’s things from getting burned to a crisp. A dwarf, he knew could be pretty made when a lazy lad let his few possessions be burned beyond recognization.
Watching what seemed like eternity to Doran which was actually only 2 or 3 seconds. He saw Tin fall and Philline run to his aid. In the back of his mind he was quickly trying think what to do. Then he saw Enzirou and knew what to do.
"He yelled to Enzirou help Tin and Phillinie .Then head for the Count and help me."
He turned and took off in full run carrying his axe headed toward the Count hoping Enzirou understood what he said.
He ran dodging through people jumping over them sometimes trying to get to the Count. He knew the others where much faster than him and when Tin was safe they would catch up to him quickly,but for now he had the best chance to reach the Count alive.
If all goes to plan he going to run head long from behind hopefully barrel over one if he was lucky two of them maybe injuring them or if not let his axe finish that problem as fast as possible. Then try to hold the rest back until help arrived if help arrived he thought. Doran knew it was gamble ,but he saw no choice and you play the hands your dealt good or bad and if all else fails you run a bluff.
In back of his mind he was worried about Tin and the others and hope they understood why he wasn't there with them. He figured they would they were smart lads and he was glad he was in there squad.
"He yelled to Enzirou help Tin and Phillinie .Then head for the Count and help me."
He turned and took off in full run carrying his axe headed toward the Count hoping Enzirou understood what he said.
He ran dodging through people jumping over them sometimes trying to get to the Count. He knew the others where much faster than him and when Tin was safe they would catch up to him quickly,but for now he had the best chance to reach the Count alive.
If all goes to plan he going to run head long from behind hopefully barrel over one if he was lucky two of them maybe injuring them or if not let his axe finish that problem as fast as possible. Then try to hold the rest back until help arrived if help arrived he thought. Doran knew it was gamble ,but he saw no choice and you play the hands your dealt good or bad and if all else fails you run a bluff.
In back of his mind he was worried about Tin and the others and hope they understood why he wasn't there with them. He figured they would they were smart lads and he was glad he was in there squad.
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Guest
Tin's weak grab at the Highlander's ankle proved itself as a efficient distraction. The distracted Clansman looked down just before Phil began his strike, and thus his kick was very successful indeed. A sickening crunch could be heard, and the Islay warrior began to fall with a low cry of pain and defeat. Phil's knife cut an ugly red swath across the Clansman's neck, and Enzirou's sword pierced his chest. Together, the man was no match for the wounds, and that was the last move or noise he would ever make. He fell dead with one leg over the fallen Tin, and Enzirou's sword slid free, leaving both him and Phillinie free to act.
Doran ran toward the Count's tent, barreling through several men to fight his way closer to the Count's side. He felt the impact of a few arrows glancing against his armor, but when he reached the Count he found himself surprisingly unharmed. Doran's run had taxed him, and he was struggling to regain his wind when the first attack broke through. A large, red haired Clansman beat the Count's guards down that blocked his way, and he jumped past them and thrust his short, fighting spear at the Count. Johan was equal to the challenge and parried the attack to his right, leaving an opening for Doran.
Flames sprang up everywhere as fire arrows struck tents and ignited them. The grunts and yelling of combat had centered itself in the forefront of the Count's tent. The highlander ambush was now clearly intent on ending the life of the Count and with the few men they had left, they pressed their attack.
Doran ran toward the Count's tent, barreling through several men to fight his way closer to the Count's side. He felt the impact of a few arrows glancing against his armor, but when he reached the Count he found himself surprisingly unharmed. Doran's run had taxed him, and he was struggling to regain his wind when the first attack broke through. A large, red haired Clansman beat the Count's guards down that blocked his way, and he jumped past them and thrust his short, fighting spear at the Count. Johan was equal to the challenge and parried the attack to his right, leaving an opening for Doran.
Flames sprang up everywhere as fire arrows struck tents and ignited them. The grunts and yelling of combat had centered itself in the forefront of the Count's tent. The highlander ambush was now clearly intent on ending the life of the Count and with the few men they had left, they pressed their attack.
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Guest
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Phillinie
Phill checks on Tin
"No time for chatter Rou," Phill said as he put his knives back in his bracers and pulled the clansman off of Tin. "Check and see if Vale was able to get out of the tent." Phill looked around for a second and remembered his pack and maybe Tin's was just inside of the tent flap of their burning tent.
If practical Phill will reach just inside the tent and grab the packs.
If Tin is in an obviously weakened position then the following actions will be attempted:
"Need to get Tin out of the way and comfortable, he may be out of the immediate action." Phill moved about hurriedly.
If Phill was able to get the pack(s) out of the tent he will place them off to the side and prop Tin up against it placing a blanket over him for shock. He will check to see how bad the bleeding is as he sets him up and shove a rag around the wound if there is profuse bleeding. If he is unable to use the pack he will quickly scan the area for something suitable to prop Tin up and out of the way.
"Don't push it too hard friend, " Phill said to Tin. "Sounds like the battle is coming to a focus up by the Count. We will be right back and get you a healer when we return."
If Tin is in position to join the battle and his wound is not toos severe then:
Phill will help Tin up and check his wound for severity. "Close call but you look like you could still swing your pointed ball. Lets get moving toward the Count. Looks like that is where the focus is and they could use a hand or two. Try not to pretend to be a pin cushion on the way up." Phill said to Tin.
Upon completion of one of the above two scenarios:
Turning to Rou, "When you find Vale meet up near the Count. Sounds like they need a little help up there." With that he unsheathed his knives and started up toward the battle. Phill will try to advance stealthfully and approach the scene where he can attack clansmen from behind if possible.
If practical Phill will reach just inside the tent and grab the packs.
If Tin is in an obviously weakened position then the following actions will be attempted:
"Need to get Tin out of the way and comfortable, he may be out of the immediate action." Phill moved about hurriedly.
If Phill was able to get the pack(s) out of the tent he will place them off to the side and prop Tin up against it placing a blanket over him for shock. He will check to see how bad the bleeding is as he sets him up and shove a rag around the wound if there is profuse bleeding. If he is unable to use the pack he will quickly scan the area for something suitable to prop Tin up and out of the way.
"Don't push it too hard friend, " Phill said to Tin. "Sounds like the battle is coming to a focus up by the Count. We will be right back and get you a healer when we return."
If Tin is in position to join the battle and his wound is not toos severe then:
Phill will help Tin up and check his wound for severity. "Close call but you look like you could still swing your pointed ball. Lets get moving toward the Count. Looks like that is where the focus is and they could use a hand or two. Try not to pretend to be a pin cushion on the way up." Phill said to Tin.
Upon completion of one of the above two scenarios:
Turning to Rou, "When you find Vale meet up near the Count. Sounds like they need a little help up there." With that he unsheathed his knives and started up toward the battle. Phill will try to advance stealthfully and approach the scene where he can attack clansmen from behind if possible.
Last edited by Phillinie on Wed Feb 01, 2006 2:16 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Guest
Tin was uncertain how severe the wound was inflicted an also groggy of the whole experience. The ring and quilt had certainly reduced the impact but then again the pain was immense and Tin had to gasp for air. I can’t lay here in face of battle alone… I will be run down by anyone with even a sharp stick. Tin attempted getting up on both knees and hand the arrow sticking out of his shoulder regains. Blood could not be seen but Phil could not be certain how thick the quilt was and Tin’s seemed quite thick.
The lad most likely didn’t want to show any sign of weakness that the enemy might use as advantage and knew his teammates relied upon him. Mustering the strength Tin needed the aid of Phil to get back up standing, else it would take a lot more time. Phil could determine that the way Tin cramped the shield against the torso that his left arm had lost some mobility. “I’m hurt Phil†The tone was rather soft and melodic; sounding that Tin was rather emotional. “My arm… shoulder… arrow pierced unlucky through the rin… ings…†Tin was wobbling on his legs trying to get bearing of the situation and almost fell on the knees trying to straighten his back. The youth was shocked but not to the state of not being able to help, it became hard to determine how much damage the lad was suppressing. Tin wanted to aid his comrades even and wounds were something that needed to be endured even though Tin’s frame was more delicate then most men of Dort.
***
Vale seemed to have done that what Phil planned to do, making sure none of the lads’ properties were burned. His face was rather black of the soot but he seemed for the most in good state. He walked up to the other two boys looking enticed but also rather careful, he was ready to follow good idea to the letter. Still without any sergeant in sight Vale felt troubled without any good leadership.
The lad most likely didn’t want to show any sign of weakness that the enemy might use as advantage and knew his teammates relied upon him. Mustering the strength Tin needed the aid of Phil to get back up standing, else it would take a lot more time. Phil could determine that the way Tin cramped the shield against the torso that his left arm had lost some mobility. “I’m hurt Phil†The tone was rather soft and melodic; sounding that Tin was rather emotional. “My arm… shoulder… arrow pierced unlucky through the rin… ings…†Tin was wobbling on his legs trying to get bearing of the situation and almost fell on the knees trying to straighten his back. The youth was shocked but not to the state of not being able to help, it became hard to determine how much damage the lad was suppressing. Tin wanted to aid his comrades even and wounds were something that needed to be endured even though Tin’s frame was more delicate then most men of Dort.
***
Vale seemed to have done that what Phil planned to do, making sure none of the lads’ properties were burned. His face was rather black of the soot but he seemed for the most in good state. He walked up to the other two boys looking enticed but also rather careful, he was ready to follow good idea to the letter. Still without any sergeant in sight Vale felt troubled without any good leadership.
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Phillinie
"Tin, I don't know how much you will be able to put in the battle up there. Hell, I had to help you off the ground. Best you stay here and do what you can with that wound, and look after our stuff. There may be others that could use some assistance as well, and you never know what you might find off of those fallen clansmen. Looks like all of the live clansmen are up by the Count. We'll just go on up there and take care of business and be back to pick you up when it is done. It's one thing to be brave and courageous, another yet to be stupid and foolish. You're so week you could be taken out by a large house cat. This is only one skirmish I am sure and we will need every swinging arm we can get after this is done."
Phill tried to convince Tin it would be best to stay behind. Phill was certain if Tin tried to help in the main battle he would not last long.
"Vale, thanks for getting the packs. The burns are passing gentlemen. Let's get up there and help the Count." With that he unsheathed his knives and started up toward the battle. Phill will try to advance stealthfully with the party if they follow, alone if not, and approach the scene where he can attack clansmen from behind if possible.
Phill tried to convince Tin it would be best to stay behind. Phill was certain if Tin tried to help in the main battle he would not last long.
"Vale, thanks for getting the packs. The burns are passing gentlemen. Let's get up there and help the Count." With that he unsheathed his knives and started up toward the battle. Phill will try to advance stealthfully with the party if they follow, alone if not, and approach the scene where he can attack clansmen from behind if possible.