Medieval Fantasy: Rise of the Free Companies

[Townopolis]

Gaille

After listening to a properly serious and grim speech from the lieutenant, Gaille makes sure to confirm their place of mustering with Petros, then turns and heads back to his tent. At the tent, he gathered up all his belongings, repacking his saddlebags, and carried them back to the horsemaster.

He retrieved both his horses. He saddled both, and loaded up his supplies on gamble, save for the weapons he would carry on him. His sword, two daggers, his shield, and a lance.

He took his time with the work, figuring he'd have plenty of time to do a good job of it before they were to head out. Before saddling and loading up his horses, he got himself an early lunch from one of the camp wives.

Once everything was in place, he lead Bella and Gamble to muster. He tied Gamble's reigns to Bella's saddle, then mounted the Percheron when they were to head out. For the first leg of the journey, Gaille stuck close to Petros. He greeted his tentmate with a cheerful grin and a hazy salute, then sidled Bella next to Petros' mount.

"So, commander, what have we planned for our escort duties?"

Gaille got any orders Petros had for him, from marching orders to contingency plans, then found his place in the march.

When they met with their charges, the merchants, Gaille sought out a driver whose cart he could tie Gamble's reigns to, so as to not have the palfrey dragging at Bella should the time for action arise. Once that business is done, he returns to his place in the march.

[Adlan]

Ioan

Loading Hund with all the gear and the tent as well, was a pleasent enough activity, after getting the mule from the horesemaster, Ioan brushed him down, and bought a hayporth (Haypennce worth) of oats, to treat him with.
As he Loaded on the Bags, Ioan sang, his clear baritone calming the mule, and stopping the protests that always arose whenever Hund had to do any work.

On Ioan's own back, his bow, also two of his cloth bags of arrows, and at his side, his Belt Knife, and Axe.

Soon he was ready to depart, Water Skin's filled with clean good small beer, and some extra bread and cheese. Hund was loaded down, and ready to go, between the two of them, Ioan reckoned they'd keep pace, Hund was used to much heavier loads of grain, and could go all day at a good walking pace.

[Destichado]

"Excuse me, Simon Messer? Since you are a veteran, you obviously know how to stay alive and do this right. I was hoping you could help me how to do the same."

"Hit your mark and don't get hit," he said simply, then grimaced.
"Ah, don't fret about it, this is easy duty. With a caravan to slow us down and haul everything, we'll travel in style. We're bringing one of the wagons with us and a good bunch of sumpters, so take what you please or you won't see it again until we rejoin the company. I'm taking most everything I have, and heaven knows lord Demios is."

The arbalastier finished arranging his bolts in their belt case and slid the lacquered leather lid in place. "You'll be fine, most like," he said. "Just don't wander off without ordrers or fall asleep on watch, or by god you'll be in more trouble than you know what to do with." He blanched as he said it, apparently the archer did not know what to do with that much trouble, himself.
"That's all you need worry about, truly."

* * *

Gaille sidled Bella next to Petros' mount.

"So, commander, what have we planned for our escort duties?"

Petros looked over at Gaille in shock.
"Surely you jest, sir. I could never give an order in earnest to you or Sir Heinrich -truely, I am not even knighted.". The young Vaegir nodded to the figure in black at the head of the procession. "Ser Deimos is our commander, and in truth I know not what he has planned. With only twenty of us he needs no lieutenants, but if he did it would be Yngvild there, not me."

Petros smiled ruefully. "Your humble servant is merely a man at arms his grace tolerates a little more than others."

* * *

The flat northern plains stretched over a hundred miles in every direction, from the edge of Swadia all the way to the sea. It was watered by rivers that raised and lowered with the tide even this far south. The land was an unending sea of grass, a wasteland of pasture impossible to farm, and quickly surrendered when the Nords crossed the sea.

"Yngvild," Deimos cried out.

Some moments later the grim shield maiden fought her way through the knee-high grass from the wagon fort to the side of the knight's chestnut palfrey.
"I want scouts moving ahead of us," said the Lieutenant. "Pick four likely men and send them out. I want to hear back twice a day."

She thinned her lips and nodded.

* * *

Yngvild shouted names out at the footmen and archers pacing the horse and ox-drawn wagons. "Jarni! Aeryn! Olin! and-" she paused, scanning the faces, "you, the quiet one. ...yes you, get over here, Quiet," she said, making a name of it.

The shield maiden hung off the side of the Ironclad wagon while the men congregated.

"You are to be our scouts. Press ahead a league and see what there is to see, then come back and tell lord Deimos. Two go in the morning, two in the evening, work the rest between yourselves."

[Krrth]

Thank you for the advice, Simon. I hope you are correct about the easy duty.

Jarni! Aeryn! Olin! and-" she paused, scanning the faces, "you, the quiet one. ...yes you, get over here, Quiet," she said, making a name of it.
...Gotta go!

*jogs over to Yngvild*

Yes Ma'am, will do.

*To the others*

I have very good night vision, so I should probably take one of the evening runs. I don't really care one way or the other, however.

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

As the company readied itself to set off, Morrigan armed himself for battle - not wanting to roast inside his chain, he wore only a tunic and kilt, but his shield was in one hand and his spear in the other, with his swords on his back and belt, respectively, should he need them. After Yngvild issued her orders, he approached her, making sure to keep a measure of respect in his stance.

If yer not fer mindin' the question, Ma'am, do ye know aught about who or what we might be facin' should some fools decide to attack us? That is, how our foes might be armed an' armored, and what their dispositions might be?

[DJDeMiko]

Unnamed

With a small smile, he speaks. His voice is soft but confident. With one for evening, i shall volunteer to go in the morning. My vision is keen enough, but I like as much warning as possible between myself and my enemies.

[Destichado]

After Yngvild issued her orders, Morrigan approached her, making sure to keep a measure of respect in his stance.

"If yer not fer mindin' the question, Ma'am, do ye know aught about who or what we might be facin' should some fools decide to attack us? That is, how our foes might be armed an' armored, and what their dispositions might be?"


The shield sister made a face like she had bitten into something nasty and turned away. Cinching her shield higher up on her shoulder, she hopped off the running board of the wagon fort and waded though the waves of tall grass.

"Pirates, most like," she said after a noticeably long pause. Apparently she decided the question deserved an answer. "Lordless Nord warriors gone a'viking. The flats are full of rivers here, we'll not be further than ten miles from one from here to Wercheg."

She went on, "There are bandit villages, besides. The peasants band together and murder outsiders who do not know their secret. And this is a Khergit caravan, and the Khergit Hoard wars with the Vaegirs, and the Vaegirs war with the Nords. If we come upon a Vaegir lord on campaign, he might take us as fair game."

Yngvild shrugged mailled shoulders and tossed her braids out of her way.
"They pay us for a reason."

[WhiteKnight777]

Morrigan

Morrigan shrugged slightly 'tis all the same, I suppose. But I like to know whose blood'll be staining my blades, but in the end men die the same. Dust to dust 'n all that

Seeing the unfriendly look in the woman's eye, he fell back in line beside Raxila. In a low undertone, he spoke as he walked beside her That one's colder'n a banshee's breath, no mistake.

[Townopolis]

Gaille

Gaille smiles, although his mouth is somewhat obscured beneath his helm.

"It seems I was led astray by good Deimos' words. I fear I'm made wary entering this new command, unsure who's going to take umbrage at a knight for stepping beyond his station."

He sighed and adjusted his grip on his lance, maintaining a hold on it even while letting it rest across his saddle. Across the caravan, the Nord woman spoke with some of the footsoldiers, Petros spoke true, she certainly seemed to have the air of a subcommander about her. He turned his attention back to Petros.

"So then tell me, Petros, at least I understand you've marched with this company for a time before me. How would you like to like to advise me? I would benefit from having someone to help me navigate these new waters."

Gaille checks their formation, seeing if there was a sense of order about it, or if Deimos were arranging it somehow, should he find these to not be the case, he turns back again to Petros.

"Come, let us take the rearguard. Riding abreast we will have the caravan less vulnerable to surprise, and you can show me the landmarks in those here."

[Krrth]

Alright people, let's get out there and do what we need to do. I suggest we gather our gear, grab a quick meal and get moving.

*At that Aeryn moves back towards his tent. Once the gear has been collected, he stops off long enough to grab a meal of bread and cheese, and heads out to begin scouting.*

[Adlan]

(RL: Aeyrn, the Tent is on the back of my mule)

Ioan
Ioan helped Aeyrn grab his gear off the back of the mule, as it plodded along in the lee of one of the wagons.
'Reckon You'll find anything much?'
He asked his companion.



After the scouts had departed, Ioan walked along side Hund, his eye's scanning the horizion, but cheerful and relaxed.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila

Raxila spits in the dirt at the mention of Yngvild. "Oh yah. No fun at hall - she don' even like a goot scrap. My blade's been dry far too long, und Hy'm yearnink for a fight. Hy don' really kare vedder ve fight zum ragtag Nord bundits or ve get to schow de Vaegir vy ve von at Glenmalure. Up vith helberd, out vith sword. Schtill, if ve kan keep pace vith de vanguard ve'll be de first vuns in de scrap!"

At the thought of a fight, Raxila gives a discomforting grin.

[Krrth]

ooc: It was just my way of saying he was double checking he had everything.

IC:

Who knows what we will find. There's enough desperate people out there that they may try something, so be careful.

[Snacs]

Olin Scott

"Of Course M'Lady!As you wish!"He said and gave a bow any Noble Dandy would find impressive, before quickly footing it past the group.


"I believe I'll take the morning's work as well, It's always pleasant to stretch one's legs out after a night's rest yes?" Olin added with a slow, easy smile as he jogged past the others, falling in with 'Quiet'.

He slung the boar-spear across one should, and slowly untied the waterskin at his belt, chuckling under his breath as his tiny water spirit wriggled from the opening, seeming to balloon outward as it left the tiny opening from which he would drink. It gave him a smile, then leaped towards his stomach, it's body disappearing into his. He felt the tattoo on his back grow cold for a moment, then return to normal as the spirit 'rested'.

He sighed and tipped back his head, taking a long pull from the cold, clear water, before offering some to his fellow scout.

"It's not ale, but you'll not find cleaner water in the whole company my friend"He said in cheerful offer.

[DJDeMiko]

Possibly Quiet

Olin -
"It's not ale, but you'll not find cleaner water in the whole company my friend" He said in cheerful offer.

"Quiet" takes the waterskin and thanks him. After taking a deep swig he says in a quiet but friendly voice."Looks like we will be scouting together, do you have much experience scouting?"

[Snacs]

"Not one bit"He said cheerfully, shrugging as he took the waterskin back, hanging it from his belt without capping it. His boar spear titled, stretching it across his shoulders, arms hooked over the thick, stout wood.

"Spirits willing I'll do a good enough job, though I believe we are mostly to watch for large groups of bandits and such, as I doubt anything less than a dozen men will be able to harm the company and the cargo." He said thoughtfully, and wriggled his fingers a bit, as if stretching them.

A soft breeze picked up, and at the faint edge of hearing both men could hear a faint giggle, as if from a group of young maidens. The air inf ront of Olin coalesced into about a half-dozen small, winged shapes, womanly but with a fragile appearance, as if they were made of a kite's cloth rather than skin and bone. Zephyrs, spirits of the West Wind. They dashed like birds hunting fish to his waterskin, cupping in tiny hands a droplet or two of the cold, clear water of his home, so different from these tall-grassed plains.

He smiled benignly and breathed out a puff of air, and they scattered through the tall grass. They'd look ahead for him, and scout much more effectively than he himself could.

"Ahh...feel that breeze. A West Wind is often said to be a bringer of good fortune, should the spirits take a liking to you"He gave a small smile as he stretched his long legs out, keeping pace with 'Quiet', the thick, bone-handled dagger at his belt gently tapping against his hip with each step.

[DJDeMiko]

Quiet

Quiet's arms swung slightly by his side, keeping pace with his long legs as he walked. He shrugged the light weight dark-green cloak from around his body to just across his back, revealing a bandoleer of small throwing knives and two long daggers on either hip.

"Well, if you see something let me know," he said looking over at Olin, "and if you see me duck into the bushes or turn tail and run, I'd advice you do the same."

[Destichado]

Two days passed without incident. Ser Deimos pressed the caravan hard, waking befor dawn and not stopping until dusk, demanding meals on the move and cycling mounts and draught beasts to drive on in excess of eighteen miles a day. Even so, he was not satisfied. A rider alone on horseback could travel faster of course, and even a determined man afoot if he could find a game trail or has the strength to cut his way through the high grass. But for a wagon train, driven by ponies and oxen over broken, roadless lands, it was a stupendous pace.

In absence of enemies, the Ironclads more than earned their lucrative pay. Their far-ranging scouts brought back word of gullies and floodwashes to avoid, rivers and where they might be forded, landmarks and signs of habitation. The four mounted horsemen rode ahead of the caravan, finding the hazards the scouts had earlier discovered and marking the way around them. And the foot... The foot picked up the broken pieces. When a wagon slipped a wheel or broke an axle, it was the footmen who bent their backs and to set it to rights, and quickly so the line of march would not be delayed.

On the morning of the third day, one of the scouts -Jarni- did not return.

Olin and the scout coming to be called Quiet set out in the direction Aeryn said Jarni had gone the night before.
One of the lowlands' many shallow, meandering rivers lay in their way. The two of them split up in opposite directions, looking for a ford. And so Quiet was the first to find Jarni, around a bend in the river, under a misshapen sycamore, staked to the banks beneath a blanket of crows and vultures.

Jarni had been slain by a blow to the chest, likely from an axe, that had split his breastbone down the middle. His killers had not stopped there. In a fit of artistic butchery, other shallow, precise cuts had separated the ribs from the collarbone, and they opened, broke and unfolded the ribcage so that it lay stretched out beneath his arms like a pair of bloody wings. Then, very deliberately, the body was staked down so as not to be disturbed when it was worked over by the carrion eaters of the wilds.

Quiet noticed at least a dozen pairs of footprints in the sandy mud, that had milled around and headed off into the river.

The report brought an uproar. Deimos coldly ordered every man to arm himself for imanent attack. Petros shook his head at the barbarity of the killing and made disparaging comments about the Nords who must have done it. Vjarna flew into a rage and demanded to see the body, and would have run off to find it herself had she not been ordered to stand her place. The Khergit merchants and their eunuch slaves ran around lighting incense sticks to place on the corners of their wagons to appease the spirits of the wind, and other obtuse fetishes they professed to bring luck and safeguard them from harm.

The recruits were left in the middle of it all.

[Adlan]

Ioan
The Archers Broad Shoulders, and tough, farmers body, had been of much use on the trip, his brute strength useful, as well as that of the Mule who carried his burdens.

When the Order to Arm Came, Ioan Took his Best Bow out of it's cloth bag, and strung it.

Strung, it canged from a simple stave of wood, into a fine curve of beauty, highly polished wood, with a simple but beautiful colour change from heart to sap.

Ioan also unstrapped one of his cloth bags, and tied it to his belt, the top strap open, and the arrows ready at hand. He then slung his other two bags of arrows on his back, so he could carry them with him at need.

Hund he loosend, the knot holding him to the wagon infront. The Mule was an old friend, and wouldn't run away untill things look really dire. If it came to that, Ioan would rather risk chasing his mule for a while, than leave his animal to be killed like the scout was.

Prepared for war, from his haubergon to his sallet, his bracer and Tab to the bow strung in hand, he scanned the horizion for any enemy.

[Krrth]

Aeryn had been enjoying himself. He was learning more about the world of men, yet had nature to retreat to when he felt the need. All that was about to change.

Upon hearing of the fate of his fellow scout, Aeryn's face grew dark.

In the language of his father:Humans! he muttered in disgust. What beasts they can be, to do that to one of their own.

Aeryn grabbed his spare quiver and looked for a somewhat protected vantage point to shoot from.

[Raz_Fox]

When Raxila saw the body, she closely examined it. "Nord vork. Nasty buisness, especially ven dey first rip out de lungs. A blood eagle, dey kall it. Vaste uf time, if hyu ask me. Chust a simple kick to der face vorks chust as vell."

When she returns to the caravan, she pulls her dented purple shield off her back and pulls out her sword, giving her unsettling wide grin as she does so. She turns to Morrigan. "Don' vorry - Hy hef de ears uf a fox und de eyes uf a hokk. Hy'll be sure to tell hyu ven dey're komink. It's time to hunt."

[DJDeMiko]

Quiet

After giving his report, Quiet still felt somewhat queasy. He had seen bloodshed in his life, sometimes caused by others and sometimes by himself, but such grisly displays had been rare. he preferred clean quiet kills.

He steeled himself against the urge to vomit. If your throwing up when those who did that arrive, you will only end up like that man he thought.

Quiet drew the large dagger from his right side. It could only be called a dagger because it wasn't large enough to be a short sword, not quite large enough at least. Quiet didn't care what others might call it, the dagger was his favorite weapon and one of the few stolen goods that he had never, and would never, sell. It wasn't a beautiful dagger in it's form, it had no designs carved or painted upon it. No, it in many ways looked like a simple weapon that a peasant might own, however it was in reality one of the highest quality weapons that Quiet had ever seen. In function it was perfect, the weight was just right and it was so sharp that Quiet sometimes believed it would start to cut before the blade had even touched the surface.

He had pulled it from a man who had accused him of cheating at a game of dice. The man had come at him with the knife, Quiet had disarmed it then used it to kill the man. He had named the blade Luck that night.

Quiet gave himself one quick last moment before pushing the sight of the scout out of his mind then with Luck in hand, he waded out into the bushes and sank out of sight.

[Snacs]

Olin Scott

Well. And that was that, then.

Olin muttered a soft prayer to the spirits for the deceased scout. Jarni had seemed nice enough, and deserved the spirit's blessings for the kind of death Quiet had reported. The Nord's had their own notions to the spirits, one which Olin had always found rather repulsive. They bound and beseeched them with the blood of others, and offerings of pain and death. No good would come of that.

When the call to arms ran through the group He had little to change, seeing as how he had only the clothes on his back and the spear and Dagger that seemed habitually a part of him.

He did, however, start drawing a circle about his tent each night with the sharpened butt of his spear, filling it with a thin rivulet of the water from the skin on his belt. Oddly enough, the water never seemed to dissipate into the earth, only vanishing at morning's light when others came to wake them for the day's march. He said not a word about it to his tent-mates, only giving the two a small, quiet smile and a nod before he'd head off to sleep, a palm on the pommel of his dagger, and his boarspear standing silent sentinel just outside the tent's entrance.

[Townopolis]

Gaille

Gaille was shocked to hear of the barbaric way the body had been displayed, and had to take a moment to ensure that his morning meal would remain in his stomach. When Deimos gave the order, there was little to do. Gaille already Carried his shield and lance, and his sword was at his side and his crossbow hung from Bella's saddle. Already armed, he rode to the van to get himself out of the way while the others prepared.

He was wide awake now, having slipped every so slightly into the dulling routine of the march. Now his head seemed clear and his limbs almost tingled with the anticipation of an attack. It was not a pleasant feeling, and an old, familiar knot formed in his gut to compliment it.

[LongVin]

Heinrich

Filthy, barbaric Nords always meddling with and raiding the civilized peoples of the world. Equipping his armor, he keeps his helmet and weapons at the ready in case of attack or if the order is given to ride out and find the enemy.

Most of his time is spent riding his horse riding around the caravan on the lookout for any would be attackers. He was looking for a fight, it was time to take the battle to the Nordic invaders who stolen Swadian land.

[Destichado]

As it happened, the threat came that evening, from the west.

There was a horn blast, and suddenly thirty men in helmets and maille shirts rose up out of the tall grass in a rough arc little more than two hundred yards from the wagon train. They must have lain in wait for their prey, and now they had them. One good, short run and they would be upon them. Even if Deimos would have allowed it, there was no way they could possibly flee. But they did not fall upon them, not immediately. They were Nords. They wanted a fight.

The raiders banged their swords against their shields in a pulsing rattle, or pumped their axes in the air shouting garbled taunts and threats. Vjarna and another Nord-born recruit returned the oaths and taunts with gusto, singing them out so the sound would carry.

One raider in a golden helmet vaulted over the back of another and sprang up onto a shield carried on the shoulders of two others. With exaggerated motions meant to be seen over the distance, he toasted them with a vessel that had to have been made from a skull. Then he exposed himself, and made water as if to spray on the Ironclads.

At this Vjarna screamed in outrage, casting about for something to throw. Even Deimos looked affronted.
"Archers," he said, drawing from his saddlebow a long battle axe or short poleaxe with an odd, seven-bladed head. "Loose!"

Arrows and bolts spat out and the sea raiders ceased their taunting and hunkered behind their shields. The golden-helmeted Nord leaped off his perch, pulling up his trews in mid-air.

"Foot," he ordered, gesturing with the axe, "hold your ground and take orders from Varnja. Horse, to me!" he cried, and spurred his black stallion leaping into a gallop.

[Raz_Fox]

Raxila

The Nords weren't the only ones hollering and throwing abuse. Distance and Raxila's thick accent made it hard, but the hand gestures helped get her point across.

At Deimos's order for the footmen to stay back, Raxila yelled after him, "Bloody eediot, lettink de kalvary hef hall de fun! Vat about doze uf us back here vantink a fight?"

She grabbed Morrigan by the arm and grinned.
"Kome on Morrigan, no sense kowerink here in de back ven ve kould be at de front uf de defense! Let's kill zum Nords!"

[Townopolis]

Gaille

At Deimos' command, Gaille spurred Belle forward, the warhorse responded instantly, having sensed her rider's agitation and recognizing the signs of battle. She galloped forward, and Gaille steered her into line with Deimos' mount, so that they were riding abreast, or as close to as they could manage.

Gaille held his lance raised as they charged, waiting until the last moment to bring it down to skewer one of the Nords, steeling himself for contact.

When the lance breaks, or is dragged down by a Nordic body, Gaille draws his sword and begins to fight in earnest while trying to keep Bella moving. Should a brief moment of respite come, he shall catch his wind and quickly scan the battle for Petros, to see how the Vaegir fares.

[Destichado]

Raxila was well on her way with Morrigan when Vjarna caught up to them, blade drawn.
"Get back there and hold your ground or I'll kill you myself and save the Nords the trouble," she shouted, braids whipping behind her.

Abruptly her demeanor changed and the shield maiden nodded at the heavy cavalry, nigh untouchable in their chain and plate, breaking through the nord shieldwall and whirling about to bite them from behind.
"Look there, they've bloodied them, they sow confusion... But they kill precious few. Lord Deimos knows his craft better than that. The horse breaks them and drives them to us, then runs away. They give chase and come right to us without their shield wall so the archers can pick them off one at a time. And right before the clash the horse breaks them up for us again. Then we do all the killing."

The Nord woman smiled icily. "Now go on, good spirit, but get back there before I have to make an example for the others. At thee to two there's more than enough to go around."

[DJDeMiko]

Quiet

Quiet moves crouching through the underbrush. He grins to himself watching the the northerner chase after the cavalry. He moves forward again, still staying vaguely near where the other foot are, just off to the side hidden. Barely even moving, his chest only rising a fraction as he breathes, Quiet watches the foot and waits for the Nords to get close enough . . .