(1875-12-04) Gendiel Border Battle
Gendiel Border Battle
Summary: Ramius leads the Forces of Gendiel against an Equal number of the Order of the Rose and Shield forces who march on a Gendiel Border Town. The battle is fierce but ends up being once sided.
Date: 12/4/1875
Related: Aequor Civil war
NPCs: None
Players:
Myrana  Ramius  Tavi  

A snowy Valley in Gendiel
A border valley in Gendiel during a Snow Fall.
12/4/1875

The Order of the Rose and Shield moved to engage the forces of Gendiel in a winter battle near the edge of Gendiel's current territory. They were not however expecting the Wallbreaker himself to show up with a force to intercept them. Snow lazily falls this far in the north, and breath comes in puffs and men grumble lightly as they get into position. The Valley where the Order has chosen to make their stand against this Gendiel force is ringed by trees. As armor clinks and spears rattle, the sounds echo over the battlefield.

Tavi stands with the line of Musketeers, a Musket of his own in his hands. He is wrapped in a fur lined green cloak, his hat angled slightly as he looks over the battlefield. "Hold the line boys." He states calmly. "Form up in two lines. First Line will fire first. After a five count, second line fires. We repeat the process until I give a different order." The twenty men and women all nod, as they take positions. The first rank kneeling in the snow, and the second rank standing, making ready. All of them have their short sword bayonets fixed, ready to defend against a charge, or perform one as well.

The Order Knight Commander sits atop his horse and glares across the battlefield. He is issues orders and the men move into positions, ready to attack. he draws his blade, and the army begins to move. The lines are set, and the forces move to clash.

It might be considered a simple whim of the Zmeyarch's, to have made haste to the very edge of his territory to personally fend off a small army of crusading soldiers. Something like a celebratory winter's sojourn to commemorate the arrival of the solstice and to water the fertile valleys with the blood of one's enemies. There's /probably/ a ritual of some sort on the books in at least one of the Many faiths.

In this case, Ramius has a much more strategic goal in mind.

He intends to remind the brave men and women of Aequor exactly what it means to come and attack Gendiel in the middle of winter. He means to remind them who it is stands in their way. A prelude of sorts to the battles to come.

"I do believe that we might have surprised them a bit," Ramius says to one of his seconds. "Good! We will not let them claim even a single inch of our land without paying dearly for the pleasure of our hospitality. Unsheath your blades! Long Cannons, affix bayonets and prepare to meet the enemy's charge! We shatter their central column and break through to surround their crossbow and cavalry. Send word to the artillery. I want those horses for dinner, and I'm not one to wait for it to come to me."

"And tell Myrana," Ramius grins as he lowers his visor, "That we don't mind a bit of stormy weather."

Among the musketeers is Zmeya Myrana, but to look one would never know she's even there. Snow gathers on her hood as she stands quietly behind the others, unseeing; her thoughts are up in the clouds, and her dark eyes move beneath the lids, feeling the push and pull of the wind coming through the wilderness and the breath of the trees stirring and whispering against one another in the heights. A freezing wind, it reddens her cheeks and burns her fingers as she breathes in and out, depending on the Hunters to protect her as she attempts to put her consciousness utterly into the clouds.

"Zmeya," the runner approaches at a run and without thinking touches Myra's elbow to get her attention only to jerk their fingers back from the spark. "Ah!" Myrana doesn't seem to notice, hands still held out before her as if waiting for snowflakes to gather in her upturned palms.

"Don't do that," chides one of the masked Armaz guards standing behind the Zmeya, whose lamellar crackles now with surly electricity. "Leave her be for now."

"But the Zmeyarch-"

"He wants a storm?" The guard grins under the white mask. "What a shock."

The runner sucks his fingers and gives the Zmeya a wary look only to see now that the half-lidded eyes glowing with witchlight. Oh! Well, fuck!

The Order's Cavalry suddenly surges forward, the thud of hooves pounding into the snow echoes across the little valley as they make straight ahead for the enemy Spear. Normally not the wisest of choice, but these are heavy Cavalry, with lance and Brigandine armor and barded warhorses they thunder across the battlefield even as the whip crack of Long Cannon and the zing of Scorpian and Great Bows add their echo to the charge …

The Crossbows open fire on the on the Musketeers at roughly the same time as they add their own fire to the battlefield. Shouts and cries add to the haos of the battlefield as the Spearmen across from the mighty Zmeyarch's Berserker shout defiance and rush forward. Leveling their spears in a wall of death as they cross the distance….

The thunder of hoofbeats against the earth is almost lost amidst the storm churning in the heavens above. Ramius raises the great blade that serves as his battle-standard, and with a gesture, issues the order for his own lines to advance. To allow the heavy cavalry to assault his flank would be disastrous, and so the berserkers, long cannonneers and spearmen are ordered to advance together.

Meanwhile, the artillery continues its bombardment. As Ramius ordered, they are to spit-roast the horsemen with as much firepower as they can bring to bear…!

Tavi grits his teeth as the battle begins. He's confident that the Ramius has this in the bag as Captain Shiney Pants has yet to loose a battle. However, it's always possible that in an actual battle you could be one of thsoe who catches a crossbow in your face. So when he hears the Order's Heavy Cavalry thundering forward he kneels and raises his musket to his shoulder and shouts, "FIRST RANK FIRE!" There is a recoil as the Musketeers unleash a volley of fire in response to the enemy Crossbow fire raining down on them. He begins to reload, "Second Rank! On the Five. FIRE!"

Musketfire thunders and the sky answers; Myrana opens her eyes and they burn with lightning. It fills the little Armaz like the flame of a lamp and spills out as if her body were smoke-darkened glass. The ground around her feet dries with the first snarl from the clouds shift and blacken and churn to her thoughts.

"<Go,>" she whispers, voice warped by the magic crackling and burning in her throat, turning her already smoky voice to a tiger's growl. "<Sacred fire, burn the spears from their hands.>"

The Heavy Cavalry lowers their lances as the Spears set to receive. Upon the impact, as if the heavens were waiting the snow suddenly falls in thick clumps. Horses scream, men shout, shields splinter with audible cracks, and bones break in much the same way. Scorpian fire stiches into the snow in huge plumes of falling snow, even as Long Cannon fire ripples into snow banks and trees in the distance.

The Crossbows are devestated by the musket fire, but continue to fire. Sending a second volley toward the Musketeers, trying to recover some ground. The spearmen rush to engage the Berserkers, faces set in a grimace as they close. Lighting begins to dance along the snow banks, exploding more than one, likely adding to the snow falling heavier on the field of battle. The gloom of the heavy clouds lightning up in huge flashes of bright light with each strike.

Battle is joined in earnest. Bullet and arrow alike fill the air with (unfortunately poorly-aimed) death. Ramius chances a glance toward the musketeers in the hope of catching Myrana in the midst of her spellweaving trance, but to his abject horror realizes that THAT MAN has drawn the figurative first blood of this engagement.

"Forward!" Ramius bellows, aiming to add the whirl of steel to the cacophony of combat unfurling all around them. "Are you all going to be outdone by a Cavalier!? Show these rosey bastards that the color of their blood!"

Ramius still hasn't quite forgiven That Man for chucking him into as many encounters with the sea as he has. At the very least, he's making good use of that simmering rancor.

Meanwhile, the arrows continue to hammer from the rear echelons into the swirling snow…

Crossbows falling about them, and the haze of Musket fire drifting along the snow. Tavi bellows "FIRE AT WILL AND CLOSE!!" and then the muskets begin a staccato fire of whip cracks as men load and fire, unleashing their death into the Crossbows downrange from them. His men begin to move forward, and Tavi draws his Hand Cannons, firing one then other before going to cover. His men firing Muskets, and either kneeling or dropping prone in the snow to reload.

Myrana has many fine and admirable friends. She considers Tavi Deverot to be one of them, Ramius' opinion notwithstanding. That isn't to say that Ramius is wrong its just that Myrana is a criminal and sometimes this is a relevant character trait.

Crossbow bolts zip past her like sparrows in the snow. One comes so close as to trace a red line on her cheek and rip a hole in her hood, knocking it back before burying itself in the snowbank behind her. She doesn't stir, hands stirring the air before her and catching at threads of electricity, as if her fingers were plucking at the strings of a zither. That wind blows the white hair about her face and sets the silver she wears to spark and ring as she reaches up to hook her fingers and draw something down closer, mind still miles above the battle in the storm she's weaving.

The Crossbows either dead or fleeing stop firing, but the fight with the Cavalry and the Spears continue, the Levy Spearmen holding the line but having taken a mighty blow from the Cavalry Charge. Scorpian shot falls among the Cavalry, finding no purchase but more than one Great bow does. Killing either horse or rider with a crunch of armor as the scorpian sized bolts impact the armored troops. Still the Order's Heavy Cavalry pushes on, slashing and driving into the Spear, trying to break them up to take away their advantage.

Meanwhile the Berserkers roared into the Order's Disciplined Spearmen. The two sides exchanging blows, but the Berserkers get the better hand, even as lighting finds it's mark and slams into their ranks. The Spears still push forward, holding their line and trying to damage the unit of berserkers or perhaps find an upperhand.

As the Order Crossbows are either shot down or flee, Tavi cries out, "Hold your fire!" Then he looks around before calling out, "Dress Ranks, Reform, LEFT!" The Musketeers rushing to obeys, some covered in snow, some sporting wounds from the crossbows fired their way. He nods once. Then the ranks of the Musketeers move up to support the Berserkers, as they close in, Tavi draws his Cutlass, "CHARGE!"

The Musketeers, with Shortsword Bayonets, led by the Cavlaier turned Huntsman, surge forward into the flank of the Spearmen to support the Berserkers.

Just because Ramius has the BIGGEST CHIP ON HIS SHOULDER doesn't necessarily mean that he dislikes Deverout. It just means that every time he sees the man, some screaming ape at the back of his brain starts wrestling with the desire to place the other man in a headlock. That's all. They're friends, really! It's just a special kind of friendship, is all.

He certainly appreciates seeing the crossbows break and fall away, and seeing the musketeers start pressing into the spear-flanks, especially considering the battering that his own spear wall is enduring. "Spears, hold the line! Hold! We'll press through and surround them!"

And so he moves to do exactly that. Ramius surges forward, leading his berserkers in another charge. "Deverout has the enemy panicking. Press the advantage, men! Forward! Forward and then left!"

As Great bows, Scorpians, and Long Cannons fire into their midst, and the the Spearmen run the Order's Captain curses loudly and violently ina way that msome might consider unbecoming of a Knight. He signals a retreat and the Heavy Cavalry wheels and turns to leave the battlefield at full gallop. Before he does he spies Ramius, and bows his head in respect for being beaten so soundly, even saluting him with his blade before he rides off.

Tavi pants as he moves to stand next to Ramius. "Nicely done your Majesty Shiney Pants." He says casually. "Should we chase or let them quit the field? I bet Myrana or the Great Bows could
Thready tongues of lightning touch down perilously close to the Zmeyarch for a moment, flashing the snow from the air over his head and scorching the earth to either side as they fork and snarl like the gates of death, framing the Arrani with burning antlers of skyfire as if drawn to Argetlahm's smoking blade. The air sings with it and metal hums; lightning races ahead now, seeking out the distance like the fingers of some great hand 'walking' across the snowy earth on its way into the enemy ahead with great hungry strides ahead of the Berserkers.

Perhaps a more ruthless man would have ordered the enemy hunted down and slaughtered to the last. After all, these are his enemies— foes who thought to invade the land of his ancestors.

But Ramius definitely heard that ignoble cuss hiss out across the crisp, winter air, and there's nothing that the Zmeyarch approves of more than swarthy battlefield commanders. More importantly, killing a fleeing opponent does not sit well with his conscience. Ramius offers the mounted commander a respectful nod before turning to the sound of that oh-so-familiar voice.

"And you, Captain Leaky Faucet." He glances back at the artillery and gestures for them to halt their bombardment. "I don't think wholesale slaughter will be necessary today. Let them go. Our battle is won, and I might be able to make use of those men someday soon. Let them tell their commanders that Gendiel's borders will not yield, and maybe add weight to Her Highness' inevitable call to righteous rebellion."

Beat.

"Also I'd really prefer to avoid catching either the forest or my wife's eyebrows on fire."

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