(1866-03-13) War In the North: A Miraculous Scouting Mission
War in the North: A Miraculous Scouting Mission
Summary: A scouting mission goes astray, but the One sees the Aequorians through the day, and with news to bring to Mastings.
Date: 1866-03-13
Related: Related Logs (If there aren't any, use None. Don't this entry leave blank. If there is a log, use full URLs, like http://eternalcrusade.wikidot.com/logtitle)
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Michael  Nadine  Havelock  Joffrey  Landon  Stellan  Sebastian  Artos  

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The barbarians had been reinforced and been seen moving to the east. That was the word from the scouts at least and Michael al'Callenta was determined to find out the truth. Gathering together a large scouting party they set out before dawn skirting the enemy lines before striking south. Now as the day moved from morning towards midday they'd come, by roundabout paths, to a spot east of the enemy camp. At least, that was the hope. They were mounted and amidst a stand of stunted pines that rose only a few fingers taller than their heads and before them lay snow covered rocky ground crossed by a single frozen stream that would need to be crossed if one wanted to go east. That was as likely a place as any for the enemy to have made their way east, if they indeed were doing so, and so, Michael urged his party forward taking the lead as they moved out of the stunted forest into more open ground. He turns in his saddle then, calling back "Spread out, look for signs that the heathen has passed this way and the first to spot tracks or a living heathen will have a night in the inn instead of a tent when we return," he smiles at the offer he made then moves off to let the others pass as he sits back to watch the surroundings while those with the aptitude search for signs of the enemy.

Nadine's search is cursory— she isn't much of a tracker, after all, and her attention is more on the obvious surroundings than the signs of passage that may be there. Better to defend against an active threat than suss out a potential one, as far as the Snowshield is concerned. Her mount huffs a bit in the chill air, letting out a small plume of frozen breath. She pats the side of his neck, watching the rise ahead.

Joffrey d'Synclarre's tracking is likely even worse than Nadine's, so for now he rides close by her side, keeping an eye out for signs of ambush rather than particularly looking for tracks. Is he perhaps a bit protective after Pepin? Whatever might give someone that impression? Regardless, he doesn't seem overly bothered by the cold, despite the curls of steam from both his own breath and that of his steed.

Sebastian had been on his horse, until they were told to spread out and look for signs of the heathens. He navigated toward a hunch, some hardy bushes that looked recently put into disarray by passing subjects, animal or human was hard too say from a distance. To get a better look, the al'Callenta squire dismounts and spends some time on his feet, walking the hunch further in. He'll crouch down at a couple spots, letting his eyes follow the trail that appears before him. It's with that information he brings back toward the main trackers, Havelock for one. "Sir, a trail there."

Stellan wasn't a scout. Somewhere in the back of his mind he makes a mental note to learn how to do the basics, since such skills seem to be in high demand these days. His lance is in hand and hefted up to avoid getting it snagged amongst the trees, and his trusty long sword was sheathed in it's scabbard just in case the weapon met it's unfortunate end. His eyes scan the area as they plod along, all too aware of the barbarians' fondness for ambushes. It is all he can really do.

"The Lion" has had some experience himself in tracking over his years and take the oppurtunity to slip through and look for anything he might consider a sign of the enemy. It does not take long before he stops his horse and lightly pats it on the neck, "Easy boy…" The horse perhaps has caught scent of something and does alittle side step as Landon looks back to Michael and the others, "Small broken trail over here. Seems fresh. Continues up that way a bit to that floral cover and rocky outcropping.." He murmurs to himself softly, "Where are you?" His eyes peer up the trail.

Mounted and clad in something a little lighter than normal, Havelock scans the surrounding land as he comes to a halt, cold and beautiful as the land is, it is also quite deadly a place not to be oh so wary. Swathed in a cloak and laden with a pack of healing supplies, the knight tugs his horse away as ordered and surveys the ground and the surrounding foliage, each offering up little signs and hints and evidence that all is not right as his fellow trackers find their own evidence that others are afoot. And so the attending Reliant, gives a gentle nudge of his horse's flanks and trots along one such little path that surely makes up his mind, "Absolutely." His voice crisp enough to carry as he looks to Sebastian and then over towards the Lion himself, nodding, "I would go further and say a good many have passed through here and recently, we should be on our guard."

Artos d'Acuto rode with this patrol, likely against his better judgement, but the baron would let none say that he was too old for this. He sits in the saddle, looking around as instructed by the future duke. The baron has a fur cloak over his shoulders and mail, but he otherwise is unremarkable from the others in attire. He hears word of a trail, but keeps looking, in case there is more to be found.

Michael grins when the search bears fruit so quickly. He had the heathens now. "Lion, Seb, what have we got? A raiding party or something more?" he asks as he nudges his horse in their direction. When the Reliant, Havelock, chimes in he looks to him frowning, "How many?" he asks even as he loosens his sword in his scabbard.

A good many.

Michael is answered by the sudden appearance of mongrel Elementi and Icenalian scouts, and flying arrows. Thankfully the Aequorians are on their guard, and expecting it.

And so the melee begins. Joffrey keeps near Nadine, and thankfully deft horsemanship and the judicious use of his shield keep him unscathed thus far, though he doesn't have much luck attacking his foes, either. "Nadine!" He calls out when he sees that she's struck, but his attention soon shifts to one of the Warhounds that has apparently decided he looks tasty, and he lashes out with his blade again.

Nadine is hit quickly by a crossbow quarrel, barely managing to stay on her horse. Expecting the ambush was one thing, but the Snowshield did not expect the heathens to be armed with heavy Aequorian crossbows!! Still, she digs her knees into her mount's side and rides forward, lashing out with her lightsilver longsword at the nearest scout.

Sebastian looks to Michael, pointing the direction of the trail, "There sir. Fresh tracks…" That is all he gets to say before the appearance of the mongrels and the scouts. While his sword is at his side, he opts for his own crossbow seeing arrows raining down on them. It does take time to wind and crank up, but as soon as he's ready, he lowers to one knee and aims. Prior to the release, his target is cut down, so he opts to wait for the perfect shot. The dogs however, aren't waiting. He tries to beat them back with a fist or the brunt of his cross bow.

Landon finds himself in a sea of arrows, ducking and weaving upon his horse. The horse seems very calm, but where he is makes it difficult for him to turn around and make any type of movement. An arrow rings out and strikes him lightly in the chest, stoppped mostly by his armor. There is confusion all around him, but up the path he scouted he sees an Icenailan with a spear and shield. He spurns his horse on and charges at the target, sword drawn.

Arrows thud into the Aequorians, followed by the short blades of ragged heathens leading equally ragged elementi. Michael lets out a curse to make a sailor blush, frees his sword and counter-attacks, wounding one man and taking an arrow in the stomach for his trouble. He yanks the offending quarrel from his flesh and throws it at one of the barbarians before he kicks the man in the face and slashes behind him for good measure. "To me!" he shouts as he struggles to keep his mount. "Force these bastards back!"

The d'Tremaine squire lifts his head at the familiar sounds of loud footfalls and the whistling of arrows flying through the air. He wheels his golden warhorse around and puts his lance in the attack position. "This never works out for them," he asides to no one in particular before spurring his steed forward to meet the nearest barbarian.

The thug seems to anticipate it - not surprising considering he was a little difficult to miss at this point - but Stellan manages to give his sword hand a good cleave as he thunders by. Arrows and weapons clang angrily against the armor his horse dons as he weaves through the crowd, and he curses angrily when an arrow embeds itself into the back of his left hand. Thankfully, he was right-handed, and he manages to keep ahold of the reins.

The fray is entered, and Artos is quick to draw his sword to answer it. The inital assault by the barbarians seems to leave Artos safe, a gladius misses him, a dog's teeth fails to pierce his armor. In all fairness, the one with the gladius is soon repaid with lightsilver to the head, ridding the world of the offending barbarian. Another hound tries to harm Artos, but fails, as does an archer. The angry baron yells out in Barbarian «WHERE ARE YOUR MANY NOW!!!»

Havelock's answer is silenced by the punch to the gut that is delivered by a rather accurate crossbow bolt, the wind taken from him in one blast of frosty breath. Hunched over as the bolt digs deep, the Reliant fends off further attacks as his horse throws itself amidst the chaos and despite the pain with each and every movement, Havelock swings hard at his opponent and bludgeons the thug to the ground. It is only once he is through the press does he realise that he still has the bolt protuding from his stomach, his armour pierced and bloody and so with one gauntleted hand, he snaps the bolt and tosses it aside as he tugs some padding from a pouch and tucks it beneath his armour to staunch the wound and steady the bolt and ensure that he might be of further use as he scans those about him, ready to aid the northerners with both warhammer and bandages as the battle is joined.

En route to the shield and spear Icenalian on the trail, "The Lion" swings his blade, stirking one of the Barbarians in the left arm and causing him to recoil in pain. It is just enough for him to continue on to his target.

Joffrey takes a solid strike to the abdomen from a Icenailan's hammer, and it's enough to send him off of his mount. He clatters to the ground hard, but quickly regains his feet. He manages to carve a nasty wound on the Elementi that he'd targeted, but his next attack swings wide. He pivots, dodges another attack, and then yells with greater desperation as he sees Nadine fall, "NADINE!" He grits his teeth, and tries to get to her side as quickly as he can, lashing out furiously against those nearby, though he's mindful to maintain his defensive posture as he goes.

Cries of pain being struck can be heard from his adversaries as well as his companions, but "The Lion" Is in his element and as he chrages up the path towards the barbarian with the spear and shield he is met by another with a spear. The spear attack is parried as he presses on, his target in sight. As he reaches the barbarian, he slices down and strikes him in the arm, moving to the side as the man's spear lashes out at him; dodging the attack. Another swing from his sword and finds the man's abdomen, "You're in my way." His eyes look peer upward, searching for the group's leader. He seems oblvious to the fallen Nadine, as he has worked his way up alone a bit, "Face me you coward!" The word's obviously directed at the Chief.

Nadine! Michael watches the d'Cadri brought down a second time. No, damn it, this was supposed to be a victory! He slashes at one of the mongrel hounds as it comes to savage him and slices deep into it's flesh. A quick look around shows him he's one of a few still mounted. "THOSE ON THEIR FEET TO JOFFREY!" he shouts. "HORSEMEN TO ME!" then he turns his mount back towards the enemy intent on driving them back until the dismounted knights can rally around the Unbroken and the fallen knight.

Stellan rides through the mass of bodies and beasts once again, this time aiming for one of the smaller targets: a warhound. His attack isn't as successful as he hopes, but the animal gives a pained yelp as his lance strikes true. Unfortunately, a bolt then catches him in the stomach, and it is a powerful enough blow to knock the skilled horseman out of his saddle. He's to his feet quickly, aware that he was in greater danger now that he was prone, and drops his lance and he unsheathes his blade.

Havelock doesn't have much time to react as he pads his wound and then gets shoved rather unceremoniously from his warhorse, which lashes out with hooves and teeth as it feels its rider vanish from atop. Though if there's one thing Havelock manages to do, it is roll and land well enough despite his wounds. Breathless and bruised and bleeding, the Reliant lifts his shield and swings wildly at those near as he hears the shouts and spots one of the northerners go down. It is with some measure of swiftness that he staggers despite the pain in his gut towards the fallen knight, sheathing his weapon as he pushes on. Every breath painful and despite his wounds, he seeks to throw himself forward to aid Nadine as he seeks to slump beside her and rummage for anything to staunch the knight's wounds.

Artos apparently should not have said anything. The crossbow bolt of a barbarian thuds into his side, though a couple of slashes from the baron's sword are given in response. Artos does see Nadine fall and roars in anger, but before he can rush to her defense he hears Michael's command and thurns his horse to join him, snarling at the barbarians and hoping that there is a plan to break them here.

Sebastian hears the order and while his first crossbow shot misses, he has time to wind up for a second. There is no time to release the second at the call, so he charges back over toward Joffrey, settling in around the ring of steel as he looks for his target again. So far, he's been able to fend off the dogs.

Long have the d'Cadri stood against the Icenailans. Their wings and shields are well-known to the barbarians of the north, and the Snowshield, knighted so young for standing firm against them, is known to them.

Perhaps that's why so many targeted her. Brigadine is not as effective against arrows and bolts as plate may have been— and so Nadine falters..

And feathered by the heathens, she falls.

Her warhorse stands as if to guard her body, but from the way she had fallen, without even trying to break it, the Snowshield had not been even concious when she fell… perhaps not even among the living. Perhaps.

Havelock hurridly does what he can for Nadine, pulling out the arrows and bolts, praying to the One that this one of his flock would not falter, not fall to the heathens and their Many gods.

But what good is prayer, when Death comes? What good are bandages and whispered words, begging for mercy?

What good…

The Snowshield's eyes flutter open, clear and unclouded by pain or the touch of the Abyss. She shifts on the snowy ground, looking up at the servant of her Faith above her, as if his prayers had pulled her back from the embrace of the eternal night.

"Thank you, Father," she murmurs softly to Havelock. "There are others who need you more than I." And it is so— her wounds are entirely staunched. She rises to her feet, picking up the lightsilver blade and stepping forward, her gaze settled on the leader of the barbarians cutting through the men with her.

"A SHIELD!" her voice rings out through the copse of trees, along the frozen stream and against the hillsides. "A SHIELD FOR THE ONE! A SHIELD FOR GOD!" and she throws herself forward against the heathens, one moment, one the edge of the Abyss, and now, filled with righteous and holy fire.

"FOR THE ONE!"

Sebastian squeezes off a couple rounds from his crossbow, frantically cranking the pully back to replace the rounds. The battle action around him is much too busy to get a good shot off, forcing him to duck and dodge left and right. Every time he squeezes the trigger, the bolt flies off harmlessly into the distance. It's about the third shot that misses which he flings the cross bow over his back and hauls out his sword from his sheath. He will pass a nod to Joffrey before they both seem to hunt the biggest brute on the field with a resounding yell to charge into the 'second. "For the One!"

Stellan narrows his eyes when two barbarians and their mangy dog close in on him and he wisely takes a more defensive position in light of his wounds. They're not the most serious wounds he's suffered, but they were bleeding, and hurt. The weapons - a flail and a sword - clang uselessly against his shield while his brigadine does it's job shielding him when the dog attempts to take a bite while he's distracted. Growling, he turns and slashes viciously at another mutt attempting to make him dinner, lopping off one of it's legs and crippling it severely. He is a little too overwhelmed to be aware of how dire Nadine's injuries are, but he is aware she was getting ample attention and help, so he concentrates on keeping himself standing.

And then she was suddenly up and yelling. He cocks a brow, but doesn't think too much on it. People were trying to still kill him.

Dog teeth and arrows and sword blades. Oh my. There seems to be a whirlwind of attacks at Landon, but somehow they slide off him or are parried in his attacks. The barbarian before him takes another shot from his blade and crumbles before him. The "Lion" appears hungry and his sword is a constant swing of attacks and defelcts as he tries to stay upon his horse and not get struck. The words from Michael ring loudly in his ears and and he turns his horse to return to the group. Nadine's words cause a rise of morale and strength in his chest and he calls out, "For The One!" A spurning of his horse and he charges at one of the Barbarians, approaching from behind and intent on striking him.

Artos blinks as Nadine rejoins the fight, but is busy with a spear being shoved at him, along with an axe, though fortunately both miss him. The baron cuts down at the axeman and cuts him deeply in the chest, the lightsilver blade now red and being prepared to strike again should another barbarian come close.

Joffrey holds fast over Nadine while Havelock does his work, turning aside many attacks from Barbarians and Elementi alike. He finally lays low the War dog that he'd been attacking, just in time to see Nadine back on her feet and in the fight. In a half-instant, what was desperation and near-despair shifts to relief and practically elation, or at least as close to it as a sane person can get in the midst of the battle. When Nadine charges forward, he moves right along with her, his shield held high as they move, bringing his lightsilver blade around in an arc towards the Warhammer-wielding Icenailan, bellowing the words of his house, "WE WILL NOT YIELD!"

His own wounds forgotten in that moment, that single moment when life hangs in the balance. His own blood seeping through his maile and yet Havelock cares little as he staunches and packs those wounds of Nadine's, discarding the bolts and arrows and moving with a certain swiftness. For when Havelock is lost his work, the gentle litany of prayer slipping past his lips, there is little that can move him. And it is indeed with some measure of surprise that Nadine speaks, let alone rises. The Reliant falling back and bowing his head to Nadine, "The One watch over you m'lady." And with Nadine gone and back amidst the fray, Havelock pushes himself up, nods to Joffrey whom he treated moments before and clutches a hand to his own bleeding bandages. But such pain seeps away, for before him was a true miracle and into the fray he pushes once more. Seeking out those amidst the northerners who look bloodied and battered and yet still fight on.

Michael knows better than let anger cloud his judgement. But bugger what he knows, he wants revenge! How dare these heathen bastards take everything from him and from his people! He swings his blade savagely, but finds it turned aside by the heathen's stolen armor. "Bastards," he breathes as he hacks again only to find his foe ducking out of the way and stabbing back with his spear. "Sir Landon, remain with us!" he shouts to the knight as he continues the fight. "My stikes do no good here!"

Nadine shouts then and Michael thinks he's gone mad. He turns back and looks, a dumb move given he's in the thick of the fighting, but his shield blocks the spear thrust meant for his side. She was alive and on her feet. "One be praised," he utters slashing back at his foe before he bellows "ONE BE PRAISED! DEATH TO THE HEATHENS!" he turns his mount back towards his foe and spurs it forward. " « The true god is with us! Flee if you are wise! » "

He attacks.

The Lion has returned to the fray and it seems he is a popular target as every manner of weaoin is swung, fired or tossed his way. It is as tho he too is touched by "The One" as every attack misses it's taget, sliding past him or sailing over his head. He has teamed up with Artos and after some swinging of his blades, his blade finds the Barbarian's chest with a solid swing, sending him to the ground, "Finish him Artos!" He is already looking for his next target, "Who's next?"

The One sees Michael's blade driven into the chest of the spear wielding heathen at last. Michael utters a quick prayer as he yanks the blade free with a spurt of crimson blood. The blade is quickly put to use again as he pivots his mount and brings it crashing down towards the head of a heathen from behind.

Sebastian takes an arrow in the gut and it barely stops him! He's an al'Callenta raised boy! He's Gabriel's squire and is proudly showing off what he's learnt! The attack against the icealian second was done in form with Nadine and Joffrey. Their distractions open up an opportunity for him to score a significant hit across the barbarian's chest, dive rolling to the side to avoid further complications with the warhammer. He pops up on his feet and goes at the barbarian again, reversing the tables so the other two Knights can finish the barbarian off! Seeing the man put down, the squire charges the next Icenalian to get in the arcing sweep of his sword, stepping alongside Michael!

Squire Stellan focuses more on harming the elementi over his human companions - they didn't seem to figure out how to get past his shield, while the animal was nipping at his heels. It was quick - managing to evade all but one of his slashes - but Stellan holds his position in spite of the numbers against him. His blue eyes dart upward when Havelock moves to tend to his bleeding problem and the squire gives him a silent, thankful nod before he presumably goes off to tend to the others.

Joffrey lunges forward, and along with Nadine and Sebastian, the Warhammer-wielding Icenailan that struck him earlier in the battle is cut down with a series of vicious blows, finished off at last by Joffrey's blade thrust into his heart, and wrenched out rather viciously. He pivots and continues to press the attack, moving towards a spear-wielding Icenailan who seems to have taken it upon himself to attack the Reliant that bought them new hope.

Warding off blows with his shield, Havelock has little interest in retaliating for the moment. The Reliant knows that as long as the northerners stand, then all is well and by the One do they stand! It is through the clash of blades and bludgeons that Sir Havelock Synn throws himself, swift on his feet and with the nagging and stabbing pain in his gut that is that broken crossbow bolt. A constant reminder of his failure. Sharp, insistent and unrelenting. A minor penance that will forever leave its mark upon his body. Unyielding and swift, his feet dodging and carrying his frame with a certain grace, the only times he falters being when a weapon slams against his hastily raised shield. Those about him no doubt hearing that soft and unending paternoster, the words spilling past his lips as he moves from one to another, binding wounds and slipping padding beneath armour to apply pressure against wounds, staunching them, waiting for that most opportune time to strike. Though each strike endeavours to keep the soldiers of the north standing.

Artos snarls as he cuts down at the barbarian and avoids another attack. "Will do," he says at Landon and finishes off the barbarian, "FOR THE ONE!" the baron roars and charges the nearest barbarian, rage in his words and his sword ready to carry out its bloody task.

Nadine continues to stride forward, as her first target drops, the zeal of a holy crusader upon her and glittering in her eyes. Her blade cuts out, seeking the lifeblood of those who are standing against her country, her faith…

The barbarians actually seem to be to be backing off, looking overwhelmed.

"Seb," Michael greets his cousin as he falls in by his side. He parries a sword thrust and then slams his shield into his opponent's face. "Come let's kill this bastard and then we'll put the rest in the dirt," he grits through a grim smile.

Stellan continues to bat away the incoming attacks with his shield whilst he attacks the dog. The hound continues to be elusive, until he lands one solid blow and then another. It was soon tired and out, lifeblood seeping into the white snow.

Then, suddenly, there was the chieftain.

He gasps in alarm at the large man's sudden appearance and quickly jumps out of the way of the greatsword swinging down at him. He then adjusts his footing and engages the big bad.
Sebastian, for lack of having Gabriel out there, slides in alongside Michael just as naturally. "Good day Cuz!" The younger al'Callenta calls out with a chipper tone, "Let us give them a proper introduction to our steel!" He grunts as he parries and ducks, keeping alongside Michael to fend off the barbarians. With a boot if he has to!

"Eeenie meenie Miney…you!." Landon points his sword balde between a few of the Barbarians anbd then chrages in to assist Joffrey, avoiding the swing of a few blades and other attacks sent his way once again. Still riding high upon his warhorse, The Lion attacks, sending to strong blows to his target, both to the chest. They are crippling blows, seemingly striking hard, the first quickly followed by the second on a backswing, "Stand with me Sir Joffrey!" When the barbarian falls he nods to Joffrey and motions to the next Icenalian in their path, "Come on!"

Joffrey and the others cut down more of the attackers, as well as the last of the Wardogs. He growls as one of the barbarians does manage to score a fairly deep gash along his chest, but then moves to attack yet again, as the snowy ground grows more and more bloodstained. "Gladly, Sir Landon." He answers his fellow knight with a touch of grim amusement in his voice, even as he lashes out viciously against his attacker.

«Flee, cowards! Crows take you and your vitch queen!» Artos roars, and cuts down a barbarian. Seeing the leader of the heathen horde, the raging baron spurs his horse forward and charges the man, hoping to end this fight here and now.

From Stellan to Sebastian, wounds staunched and padded, from soldier to soldier, a pat on the shoulder, a quiet blessing and a gentle prayer and the pained Reliant moves away and off towards Joffrey. The d'Synclarre sought for Havelock knows the signs that often draw the attention of healers. Battered and bloody armour always a good sign to follow and Havelock follows it without a moments pause for his own needs. Between blows, timed to perfection, the Reliant presses forth to aid the noble who levies such punishment against their enemy, "The One is with us!" Havelock's words erupt as he fends off another blow and staggers only to right himself and press on.

Nadine continues her stride, lunging forward towards the cheiftain, driving her blade toward the man's heart. Her expression is grim, but alight with the fury of the righteous. Her shield catches blows meant for her, but none have yet to find her since Havelock's healing touch had been upon her. It is as if the One is not finished with her yet.

Perhaps there is some truth to Michael's penned words of her, after all.

The d'Tremaine squire keeps at the chieftain, even as Nadine continues her zealous attack on him and another barbarian attempts to stab him. He turns to parry the blade headed his way after giving the chieftain a slice to the chest which sounds like it barely got through his armor. The bandaging Havelock did was holding, and his fatigue was no longer slipping, thus his attacks become more violent and less cautious.

One more Icenailan falls, and Joffrey steps forward to cover Sir Landon while he recovers from his unhorsing. His shield held high, he moves forward to engage yet another Icenailan…this time one of the former-archers who now wields a short blade. He leads with his shield, trying to throw off the fellow's guard to buy an opening for his blade.

Artos avoids getting cut down by an archer, but roars in anger as he keeps attacking the barbarian commander, landing a couple of cuts on the man, "Die, beast, die!!!" He goes into a controlled rage and continues his effort.

Landon is focused on one of the Archers, riding past the Icenalian and avoiding the attack sent his way. It is then that he misses the Greatsword attack from the CHief that strikes him in the chest and sends him backwards off his horse in a crumpled heap upon the snow. His horse spurns off, and after a moment, "The Lion" is back on his feet and swinging with some difficulty at his closest target, "Son of a bitch! I have…never…been…knocked…off…that horse!" The Lion seems angry and despite the gash in his chest looks for the Chief, "Come here…don't make me walk over there." He points the blade at the Chief surrounded by all the others.

Keeping together in tight formation and thereby preventing their lines from weakening, the al'Callenta's with the aid of the 'Lion' and the 'Unbroken Knight' put down a goodly swath of men. Sebastian looks toward Michael, to check on his status, nodding to him as they'll move forward to the remaining enemies. He goes after a former archer with that youthful grit and determination!

"Well done, coz," Michael says pulling his blade free of the dead heathen and wheeling his horse around. His eyes falling upon the archer, he points his blade at one. "Him next," he says and urges his horse on to make good his promise.

"<The One>," Nadine says quite seriously, standing toe-to-toe with the leader of this ambush, "<will shelter those He loves and punish those who spurn Him.>" She is not a very large woman, but her ferocity on the field of battle is nothing to doubt. Her heels set in, her hips twist… and she drives forward, leading with her shield, intending to knock the man off his feet.

The d'Synclarre will have felt a slight sting as Havelock sought to tend to the man's wounds between blows, dodging and moving as the combat flowed and seeking to briefly keep the Notherners patched and not quite so leaky of their vitae. Even with that half broken bolt digging into his stomach, the Reliant never once pauses. The only consideration Havelock gives himself is clutching at the broken stump as he pats Joffrey on the shoulder and steps away towards another northerner having witnessed the man become unhorsed somewhat violently. With Landon's outburst towards the Chieftain, Havelock seeks to be quick. Quick. Efficient. And with bandages ready and shield raised, the Reliant endeavours to heal the faithful and deny the heathens! As ever that paternoster of prayer unending and drifting across the battlefield as the Reliant loses himself to his task.

The Lion is pissed. Nobody knocks him off his horse. Nobody. His engagement with the Chief is met with a look few have seen, a very determined walk and seeminly oblivious to the others trying to hit him. He does not even see Havelock. A few swings, a few misses and then a solid serious blow to the Chief's Chest as their eyes meet a moment. There are no words, just a loud cry of inaudible words; much like a roar.

A greatsword nails Sebastian across the chest during his relentless attack on the former archer line. It does a number on his brigadine, which had been fixed from the last barbarian attack he was in. Rent open again! The youth staggers back, doing a manual pat down to check he was still whole. He loses ground and retreats to regain his balance. Most importantly to get out of the Chief's way. Time to fight back!

The young d'Tremaine moves towards an archer when Artos, Landon, and Nadine converge upon the chieftain, fully expecting him to fall and instead opting to stop them from being hurt by arrows. This effort, though gallant, proves to be futile as the archer now has a sword… and he turns out to be an agile bugger as well. "What… the… C'MON!" He glances over his shoulder to see the chieftain has failed to succumb to his wounds, and has managed to unhorse and harm the others. "What…"

Joffrey continues to "dance" with one particular Icenailan, who proves to be an elusive foe. Still, he manages to avoid taking serious harm himself, his shield serving him well as he tries to land a solid strike on the Gladius-wielding barbarian. Seeing that the Barbarians almost seem to be rallying, he grits his teeth and continues to press the fight, "Come on, Victory is at hand!"

Michael charges towards the archer only to fall to the snow as an archer drives a blade into the throat of his horse. Dying the mount tumbles and Michael is thrown hard into snow. He rolls and recovers his wound in his side leaking blood onto the snow, but he stands and throws aside his shield as he grips his blade in both hands. "You," he says pointing his sword at the man who slew his horse. " « You die » " he says shifting into the heathen tongue before stepping forward to make good on his promise.

Artos keeps fighting, though a lucky stab from one of the barbarians sends the baron falling from his saddle. After much effort, Artos pulls himself off the ground and prepares to continue fighting, he will not back down now, he is too invested, the barbarians must fall.

Perhaps Havelock didn't time his attack too well, Perhaps, just perhaps he got in the way a little bit. But when one considers that he got in the way of the Chief's own attack, it isn't all that bad. Except for Havelock who finally stumbles and sinks to his knees amidst the chaos of battle. Blood flowing from the wound in his gut and his bloodied hand. Yet even as he closes his eyes, he feels a certain pained relief for it almost seems as if the burden he carries will be lifted. But it is his burden. And his burden is not yet over. Lifting his head from where his chin rested upon his chest, the Reliant pushes himself up to his feet and that prayer resumes in earnest, unceasing and unending in the face of the heathens who seek to deny him. His task is nowhere near complete and witnessing another northerner fall, he stumbles towards Artos and seeks to patch the man up as best he can. His own wounds ignored, for his faith carries him.

Nadine presses her attack on the leader, leaving herself wide open should any others attack her, in her righteous fury. Lightsilver glitters in the midday sun as the blade dances out and lashes along the barbarian leader's armor, hunting for purchase, hutning for an end to this.

Attack after attack, Landon swings at the Chief, striking him, but his weakened state causing his blows to be a little less effective on the Chief's armor. And then it happens. The Squire's and Nadine begin to strike, and strike hard. Blow after blow the Chief seems to stagger, and there is a smile upon Landon's lip's and blood covered face. A soft murmur to himself, "It's over…" Tho, he then turns to see the archers, peering at them, "Run."

Stellan growls through his teeth and leaves the archer to pile on the chieftain with the others. He aims specifically for the neck, desiring to end it then and there, and his blade cleaves into it! Blood spurts and bits of flesh are dislodged, yet the man still lumbers on much to his amazement. He kicks off to avoid a possible counter-attack, and the others close in and finally finish the dying man off. This one didn't even appear to be a berserker! He then sprints off towards the archer he had abandoned.

Joffrey would celebrate the fall of the Chieftain, but he's still working on dealing with the archers, and appears to be tiring somewhat, as another of the Barbarians scores a cut on his chest. The battle's not over until it's over, and so he continues to press the attack, even if his shield doesn't seem to be held quite as high as before.

Sebastian huffs out a breath as the hard effort to take down the Chief takes a toll, as do the wounds. Young and spry, he bounds after Stellan once the big boss is down. Youthfulness has its advantages. Endurance! Speed! He yells over to Stellan, "Stellan! I'll get him from the other side!" Teamwork.

The heathen leader is hit multiple times form all quarters. But as he stands, reeling, Nadine's blade slides past his guard and plunges into his chest. She twists her wrist and the man lets out a small 'grk' of incredulousness.

"The One have mercy upon your soul," Nadine intones quietly.

She turns back to the rest of the remaining barbarians, and lashes out at one fo the archers… likely one who had feathered her earlier.

The Lion too drops his shield in pursuit of one of the archers, tho pursuit is slow at best.

There's is barely enough time, Havelock's breathing is harsh and blood trickles past his lower lip as a pained cough racks his wounded and bloodied frame. Yet the pain in his mind is deserved and it is with some measure of calm that Havelock surveys the battlefield. There is simply no time to rest. His own wounds are second to those suffered by the northerners about him and as the Chief falls, Havelock is moving towards Michael. Each step a little slower than the last, but with each threat that he may falter, he dares to twist the bolt within his gut in order to focus his thoughts. Havelock knows he can falter after the battle and it is beside Michael that he slumps, shoulders sagging as he begins to do all he can for the man.

Michael lays there bloody on the ground. Where had the attack that brought him down come from? He tries to move but his arm is broken and all he can do is manage to get to his knees. Which is where is when he watches the chieftain brought down by Nadine's blade. "What have I done?" he murmurs through clenched teeth. Though when Havelock comes to his aid he quiets looking at the man. "Let us see if the One has a miracle left for me."

One little two little, three little archers. Three little, two little, one little archer. They fell like giant sequoias. It was a a flash of blades, splatters of blood and then there was nothing more to swing at. Landon drops his blade to the blood stained snow and looks about at the carnage, nodding to his companions around him, and raising a hand to lightly tap each one on the shoulder. His face is blood splattered, his chest is red and he looks like hell, but he is still standing, "Who's next?" His words are said with a tired smile as he deduces that everyone still lives."

Stellan smirks as he overhears the other squire running behind him. "Sounds good to me!" And while not every attack the squire duo lands, they weather the attacks from the two archers without much difficulty. It was now an even fight, after all. Along with the others now joining the fray now that the chieftain had fallen, they help turn both barbarians into bloody pincushions.

Stellan lets out a heavy sigh of relief when it appears to be over. Finally, a fight where he does not fall in exhaustion! He glances at the others on the field and blinks. They did not look quite so hale. It looks almost as bad as the ice bear hunt aftermath, but thankfully everyone seems to be alive.

Joffrey pants from exertion as the battle comes to its' abrupt end, finally ending it with a strike to the gut of the combatant he's been pursuing for quite some time now. He looks around to see the others standing, and takes a moment to drop to his knees, bowing his head murmuring a quiet but heartfelt prayer of thanks for the victory they have achieved, and the fact they have all pulled through when at first it seemed such may not be the case. After a few moments, he murmurs his "Amen" and rises back to his feet, moving over to Nadine and looking her over carefully, somewhat heedless of his own wounds for now.

It is only once the rout seems all too apparent that Havelock sinks back to his knees, his strength fading just a little and with a wrench, that broken bolt is finally pulled free of his sucking wound and cast to the ground beside him. And then and only then does the Reliant finally pad his own wounds, stuffing the two bloody wounds beneath his armour with fresh linen from his now meagre supply. Staunching the flow of blood and finally putting an end to that self-inflicted penance that started from the first moment the barbarians attacked, to the fall of the final heathen. It is with a gentle bow of his head as he remains kneeling and the clasping of his bloody hands before him that Havelock gives thanks for this victory with a soft muttering prayer that cascades from his bloody lips before slowly pushing himself back up to his feet and looking about the field of battle.

Sebastian doubles with Stellan, working in unison with the other squire's movements. Not all the attacks are good and still they aid the Knights in falling the former archers. As the last bloody corpse falls into itty bitty pieces, hacked and hewn, Sebastian heaves a long breath. He does a quick head count and realizes his cousin is not standing amongst them, "Where's Sir Michael?" A twist in his spot, slurching the blood and muck underneath the boot of his heel.

Falling in exhaustion? As the last man falls, Nadine stands, triumphant. She begins to wipe her blade of the gore… but then as the zeal fades from her limbs, she swoons. She drops to one knee, barely held upright by her sword driving into the ground.

Miracles, after all, even have their limits.

Michael blinks as Havelock delivers on what is asked. The arm is still broken but the pain is gone. He stares at the man in awe "Thank you," he says and then looks skyward with that same wonder-struck expression " « Thank you » " he says in the Old Tounge. "Keep at your work Sir, but we will talk after." He manages to get his feet falling back to watch and indeed cheer his comrades as they avenge themselves on the thrice-damned archers.

"Here," Michael answers Seb's question when the battle is done. He glances to where Nadine and Havelock sag in the snow. "Everyone, the One has saved us this day, saved us from my quest for glory, but we've come found what we've come to discover and I think it is best we do not oblige the one to protect us further, let us get our friends to their horses and let us be away from here; we still have a long ride back to camp."

In lue of not having Gabriel about to tend to, Sebastian rushes over toward Michael's side. "Can I help Sir? My horse is still able! Shall I fetch him for you to ride?" He offers a shoulder to lean on if Michael needs it, there to squire to his Knight's twin as he can.

Artos takes a deep breath as the last one falls, "Damn brutes." He wipes his blade clean on the closest bit of barbarian cloth or fur. He returns it to his scabbard. The baron has bled a lot, though it has since stopped. Artos looks around and with some difficulty, mounts his horse, wincing as he tries to get comfortable in the saddle.

Havelock nods towards Michael, his head bowed with respect and weariness, "By your command." The words offered with warmth as he steps back and takes but a moment to look for his horse. The great beast having found a spot to nuzzle the earth and seek whatever treats it could find, "Just try not to exert your wounds… the padding is all but temporary and I shall check up on you my Lord, for your wounds and the wounds of all your brave men and women here can be treated fully back at the encampment." The Reliant steps away, letting the squire aid Michael as required. Hazy with blood loss and filled with the warmth of the One. Or most likely more blood loss, Havelock moves after his horse, grasps the reins and ponders the effort required to mount the large beast. With a grunt, that effort is made and Havelock slouches in his saddle.

The other squire bolts up in slight alarm. "I don't kn-" Then Michael's voice confirms he was still among the living and nearby. Relief floods him and he gives a tight smile. His eyes go to Nadine next and he finally shows some inkling of knowing she was in bad shape. A shrill whistle cuts through the air, and he moves to grab his warhorse as the animal plods up to greet. The squire approaches the shieldmaiden, but Joffrey was already there, so he simply joins them instead of fretting. For now.

Somewhere in the carnage that lies before them, Landon manages to spot his dirtied white horse. It had not fled, but put itself out of harm's way after he was unhorsed. Leading it by the reins, he surveys those around him, making sure they are all tended to and have a mount ride, "If anyone needs it, I would be honored to have them ride with me if their mount is not able." HIs shield is stored and his sword put back into his scabbard, then he slowly re-mounts his horse, a wince given and he actually hunches over to the horse's neck for a moment before righting himself, "I'm alright boy." There is a soft exhale as he surveys the blood stained snow and bodies of the fallen barbarians.

Joffrey moves to help Nadine back to her feet, supporting her as he helps her return to her own steed, the better to get back to the camp, "Come on…I think we've given them enough trouble for one day." He notes to Nadine with warmth and humor lacing his tone once more. "We've found they're definitely out here."

Nadine, from her position on the ground, frowns. Before she allows Joffrey to help her up, she reaches out to the fallen corpse of the barbarian leader, tugging loose a folded hide that had been tucked in at his waist.

She struggles to her feet, opening it.

And she lets out a noise of disbleief, sagging against Joffrey, dropping the hide to the snow.

A crudely drawn map, with Mastings, Gendiel, Benide, Northwatche and all along the border marked.

And Gendiel was circled in red ochre.

Michael nods to Sebastian when he comes along. "Some help would be welcome, as would the sharing of your horse," he says before recovering his blade from the snow. "Lead the way." A look is given to Nadine as he passes, a mix of wonder and concern in his eyes. They would speak later no doubt. Or perhaps sooner. "What is that?" he asks bending to pick up the map.

"It seems we know where they're headed." Joffrey replies to Michael, his tone and expression grim, "We need to get back to the camp…Gendiel will need reinforcements."

Sebastian winces at the reminder of his own wound, a stitch in his side as the adrenaline fades. That is all the thought the wound is allowed, since he is shuffling off toward his mount. It was a chestnut warhorse, easily able to hold two, al'Callenta breed. The ease with which he catches the animal speaks to his sense of handling, jogging back over, leading the mare at a trot. He will help to boost Michael up if needed.

There is a frown from the squire at Nadine's reaction to the map she unfolds, and it deepens when she drops said map in the snow and he catches a glimpse. He doesn't seem surprised, but he does bite into his lower lip and move to mount his horse. "It looks like we now know where they're going," he asides to Michael from his perch.

Landon rides over to where the group has gathered, a bit closer now. The map and the conversation does cause him great interest, but he sits upon his horse silent; simply listening for now.

Michael nods looking up from the map. "Well let us be on the way then," he says putting the map in his belt and nodding to Joffrey. He turns then to Sebastian for help mounting the squire's horse. "Keep up with us Sir Havelock," he calls when he's settled, despite the pain. "Our horses may need your miracles before our ride is done," a faint smile is offered there before he says "Let us ride," and he steels himself for the journey back to camp.

Havelock's own interest is piqued, but being but a humble functionary of the One Faith, he remains silent and lets his gaze slip from northerner to northerner, taking in the way they move and sit astride their horses. Watchful as to their health and indeed awed as he gazes upon Nadine and Michael, unsure as to what passed, but knowing that something… something that affirms his calling happened. Michael's voice brings him from his quiet reverie and with a nod, "Right you are my Lord.", the Reliant leans forward a little and braces himself for the journey ahead.

"Hang on Sir! She has a good stride, should be easier in a lope!" Sebastian will assist his cousin to mounting up, taking to the saddle after. With reins in hand, he will set the animal off toward the camp.

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