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Post by Fálki Pórbrandr on Jul 23, 2011 12:22:09 GMT -5
The time to fight had come again, and I sat atop my horse, the other Skaldi in their positions behind me. Eirik had named me the leader of this raid and I had the sense to know that his order was the one that really made some of these men follow me, but that I would have to earn their trust on this trip to make them truly respect what I would say. During this trip from Skaldia to the borders of Azzalle I'd managed that and the other clan-leaders had brought their men with them, making our numbers considerable. We had every chance of succeeding, and we would do just that.
Under the cover of dawn we made our way across their border and to the first town we came to, then started the attack. The men shouted and the clang of steel soon followed as the battle began in earnest. These d'Angeline obviously hadn't been expecting the fighting to come to them here, but depending on who was leading the soldiers they could quickly regroup. "Get your bearings and start holding the ground!" I shouted over the fighting, my ax coming down into the skull of one of the men who came at me and then pulled it free. This was for my land, my wife, my children, my way of life. The angel people would regret what they had brought to us, and what we were now bringing to them.
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Post by Gillermo Stregazza on Jul 24, 2011 20:56:00 GMT -5
The news of the attack came just as I 'd started to believe we might have indeed been spared, and I'd kissed Mirielle's lips in haste and promised her to come back, again and again. I'd risen from the dead once for her - if only in appearance. I would again, I swore it.
I was rushing out into my boots and armor, rushing to Strider, whom I mounted with the ease of a man who rides daily.
My men were a good brigade, and as rushed as I was, and I called them to head, answering the commanding officer's call as any good man rising to defend home and stead would have.
I knew my wife-to-be would be kept safe – she had people for that, and so did I. I knew, too, that I would survive the day, with the certainty of fate, and rode into battle with the Skaldi with all the ruthless abandon of a man unwilling to send his men to die without risking it himself, but with faith that I'd not ridden all the way her, to die in the land of my mother's birth.
A battle cry, a clash of swords, and some hacking later, my certainty did not waver, but my leather jerkin was covered in blood, as was my face, and I had a nick to my arm. Nonetheless, I soldiered on, rallying those around me as I could.
Though I'd made enough promises that dying was not an option... I was determined to give up my life to keep the Skaldi out of Azzalle, if it came to that.
If any every touched Mirielle...
The nightmares were too raw, still.
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Post by Agmar Friedgeir on Jul 25, 2011 0:36:51 GMT -5
I had been chosen to go to Azzalle, and so I did, following orders as usual. I had not the way about me that some of the others did, but it did not matter, I would do as told. In truth, I felt more inclined to this battle than some others, for one of my closest friends had been killed when the D'angelines attacked, and that could not stand.
We rode in under the cover of surprise, as they had, only they were softer than we, and we burned our way through their land with surprising ease - until their soldiers finally arrived, then the real fighting began.
I killed two men before I got the first scratch on me, but the battling here was fiercer even than in Skaldia, because these men were afraid and desperate to keep us from their wives and children- as we had been. Still, we would show no mercy and these people would be sorry for what they had wrought.
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Post by Sébastien de Loréan on Aug 4, 2011 14:56:59 GMT -5
I'd lobbied to be there – to be stationned in Azzalle, not in Camlach. It had nothing to do with cowardice, and they knew it. I'd proven myself enough in Akkad – they knew.
It had, however, everything to do with my friendship with a good man who'd passed on, and the ensuing loyalty I had for his Sovereign Duchy. And when the attack broke, I was relieved – for to know my good friends were doing their duty in Camlach, while I was here, and twiddling my thumbs... ah, it would not do.
I'd kept myself ready, in case. So were my men, and when the assault broke, our cavalry rode into the fight with mighty desperation and the determination to fight them back.
How many skulls were broken, I could hardly tell, in truth – but what I knew was that I had never been so closely outnumbered, and it took more madness than courage to affront it.
And I did, I did. Even after I'd gotten more lashes than I cared for – thankfully, none of them incapacitating.
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Post by Fálki Pórbrandr on Aug 7, 2011 21:25:09 GMT -5
The battle raged as all battles must. The men who fought with me were brave, determined, angry and cunning in their attacks, taking and holding the land they came upon and refusing to allow themselves to be pushed back. The d'Angeline soldiers, few as there were, battled to keep their homes and families safe as any man who wants to call himself one would but there were few of them and they'd expected nothing. No man can fight a ghost and for now that's what we were, dark spirits who had slipped within their very heart and stood ready to cut it out.
The longer the battle went on the more d'Angelines gathered to push us back, but the destruction was still being done. Fires raged in fields and through villages, the thatch roofs catching one another until the entire horizon was glowing orange. When they started to push us back we went until we were an inpenetrable wall of men, still fighting strong even through the exhaustion of the trip, motivated by the memory of them overrunning our homes or, for those from other villages, the idea that they could have ever dared to do so. We all wanted to strike these angel-people a blow.
And now we'd done just that. We held some of their land, and we would continue to do so, and to harry them, until they'd learned their lesson.
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