The smell of blood

Over the wall on the Northern planes, an expansive and sloped grassy meadow seperates the wall from the mass of wooded area, in which Druid clangs are settled. Here is where great Albion blood will be spilt.

The smell of blood

Mikayla
Mikayla

Nov 5 2010, 03:16 AM #1

The dawn sent cold rays of November sun across the forest ground, barely creeping through the canopy of trees. Around them, the mad dash of running feet between tents and sleeping bags around fires echoed, making it seem like there were more there than there was. Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned to find a greying druid, he whispered something in their natural tongue and Lucretius found himself nodding in understand before he too rose from his crouching position beside a dying fire. He kicked the flames out with dirty and stooped to collect his bow and arrows. "Ready." He grunted, gesturing across the small clearing to two younger boys, both of who turned to the same gesture.

It was time.

Waves of men and women waded through the trees, stomping over mud that was wet and sticky due to masses of rain that had fallen in the past few days. It looked set to do so again today; the clouds were black and heavy and looked ready to weep over them and the distant wintery smell hung between them. A rye smirk clung to his mouth; he could almost smell blood and lusted for it. The sooner the Knights across the wall were killed; the sooner they could destroy that blasted divide. He was sick of hearing about the death and destruction in the southern regions of Albion, was frustrated by the cries of families as news reached them about a fallen son or daughter. Enough was enough. They had to be dealt with; the Pendragon's had to be dealt with. Long live the reign of the Old Religion once again.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOW" Someone cried and at once they swept through the trees and onto the stretch of green grass. They ran in thousands, charged toward the line of tent-tips that they could just about see. All screaming the same thing as their legs carried them toward the war. Lucretius could already make out guards yelling down at the lines of tents, could almost here them shouting 'They're coming!' and the first screams of arrows flew at them, cutting a few warriors at the front. He raised his own bow and with the familiar, soothing whipping sound, sent his own arrows back at them. Pleased to see one guard topple from the towers of a wall but not by how own arrow... He was too far back to really do any damage... But close, he was nearly there. He could taste the blood already.
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Calvin Cat
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Calvin Cat
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Nov 5 2010, 05:02 PM #2

Cal was sitting in his tent, writing a letter to his beloved girlfriend, as he heard something.
He could not distinguish, where to pinpoint the sound, but it was loud and it was approaching fast and steadily.
They’re coming! , he heard from a guard and new immideately, what was happening here.
He took the sword, kissed the latter and put on his helmet.
Okay, with sword and shield – plus the helmet – he looked like a pompous idiot, but it was better safe than sorry.

When he left the tent, he saw them.
A band of guys, coming his direction – or better put – the direction of the tents.
“ALERT!”, Cal screamed, “WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!!!!”
With that, he assumed defense posture, before shaking his head: “Not today – today is a good day to die!”
So, he put his sword up and ran towards the guys, with his shield ready to attack.
Then he saw one guard being hit by arrows, and went into action.
He ran over to the guy, took his bow and arrow and went up, to return fire.
Spanning the bow, he tilted his head, aiming and firing at one of the guys.
Hopefully he hit, but he had no time to control that, he had to reload and shoot again.

As he did so, he remembered the words he had spoken to Julia, not knowing, that she was Nimueh. He would not kill those guys, he would just incapacitate them. To achieve that goal, he pointed at the knees or the arms of that army – at least they could not do any harm, when they were not able to fight.

But then, he saw, that the others had no such remorses, so he sighed deeply, calling the attacking forces idiots. As he heard the battlecries, he felt himself shudder – those were men, not to fool around with.
“WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!”, Cal screamed again, taking aim and fire from his position.
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Arthur Pendragon
Arthur Pendragon

Nov 7 2010, 08:54 PM #3

Arthur had been sat in his tent, chewing absently on an old chicken leg and listing the ways Merlin was making things more difficult by insisting he stay. His boots, heavily stained and splattered with mud, were kicked up onto the table, crossed at the ankles as he stared contemplatively at the canvas roof over his head. "And then there's your uncanny ability to get mud over every meal you serve...."

He was just shooting a wide, annoying grin across the tent when a Knight all but fell in through the doorway.

"Sire!"

Arthur didn't need to hear the rest of the sentence. His feet were on the floor and he was out of the chair before the man could take another breath. "Merlin!" A minute later, Arthur had the basics of his armor strapped over his tunic, was shaking his head to the offered helmet (it only limited his vision), and was grabbing his sword on the sprint from the tent. "Stay here!", he just about managed to yell over his shoulder to the manservant. The last thing he needed today was to be keeping an eye on Merlin as well as everything else.

Arthur arrived on the field on a horse, ducking the arrows streaming wickedly through the sky and swinging himself down onto the muddy earth, sword in hand. "Take position!" he heard himself yell out, over the noise of the fighting. Arthur darted between his men, finding himself at the front with his sword swinging in a practied arc through the air, coming to rest ready to meet the druids charging down the hill.

There were hundreds of them. They looked like a swarm of figures, rolling down the slope in a deadly wave. Arthur swallowed, a wave of motion down his throat and across his clenched jaw. The noise was deafening, the shouts and screams and sudden clash of steel on steel, the whistle of arrows through the air. His heart was crashing against his ribs, his skin sung with some kind of energy that caused fair hairs to lift all over his body. He felt sick, and his world and thought suddenly narrowed until it only contained this moment, this place.

The first wave of attack hit furiously. Arthur brought his sword up to defend himself from the blow of the first druid, and the rest crashed into the rest of his men. A perfect arrow soared from somewhere behind Arthur, coming to rest in the chest of a druid who had been running to help his comrade in taking down the heir of Camelot. Arthur grunted, pushed his weight into the blade to make the man stumble back, then drove the sword deep into the mans ribs.

There was no time for remorse, no time to even watch the man hit the mud. Arthur was already turning to face the next opponent as the battlefield erupted in noise and blood all around him.
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Taran Lusk
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Taran Lusk
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Nov 7 2010, 11:48 PM #4

He was always clad in chainmail in a battle encampment - sometimes he even slept in it. From the moment he had left Camelot, his hauberk had been draped over him, fitted perfectly to his torso, shoulders and head, cushioned by his gambeson beneath. There was an ever present sword at his hip and his palms constantly wrapped in cloth. The callouses from training were still sore, but the marigold salve and honey soaking into them were a welcome relief. Recent birthday sickness had left him now - the vast amounts of ale he had consumed had been vomited and sweated out. It had been a bad decision to drink himself into oblivion, but he had never had bad illness the night after such pursuits and had been alert and productive all day. Besides, he liked to tell Lucan it was all his fault for forcing the gallons of ale down him. He had gone down to a nearby icy cold river to wash himself with a herb compress and make himself look somewhere near decent, and had returned to his tent to dry off near the fire. His hair was still slightly damp, but his curls were becoming wispy soft and wild. Waiting like this was frustrating and was making him restless - other Knights might indulge themselves in a vigorous time with women, but he was used to keeping himself in check, and all he had to do with close his eyes and think of Betheine. The leather thong was still around his neck and it rested against his skin, comforting and painful. One of the old women had come round and given him a few tisanes - she had said there was a lovelorn look in his eyes, and that if he didn't snap out of it soon she would come back to slap it from him. His wide grin had made her smile and tut.

He was now conversing and laughing with a few other knights - a few of them were so young that their facial hair was still soft. he and some of the older, more experienced Knights had made a vow to watch their backs and keep them safe and alive for as long as they possibly could. One of the Breton ones was only eighteen, and had a wife and a child on the way. It reminded him of leaving Celia pregnant to go to war. He drained his cup of strong Galician wine and tossed it into a wicker basket near the edge of the tent - someone would rinse them out later, or they would be left. It didn't matter as long as they could hold wine.

As he pushed up from the ground, there came a shout from outside and one of the younger Knights rushed in with a face full of excitement and terror "The battle has begun....it has begun!" then he ran out again. Taran rushed to a table near some coffers and shoved knives into his boots and took up his sword, rushing out into the chaos. He could already smell blood - the familiar scent clinging to his nostrils. The mixture of iron, rust, raw eggs and heat. The younger men were turning up their noses, but he had began looking around with a clenched jaw, and as his eyes rested on the grouped Knights, he ran towards the front of the swarming Druids. Up ahead, he caught sight of the Prince. Where was Lucan? As he run up beside Arthur, he was looking around wildly for his friend "Sire..." but before he could continue, an armed Druid ran at him with a knife and he parried the attack with his sword, bringing his knee up to the man's face, then connecting jaw and fist. The Druid man fell back, and almost immediately his eyes glowed gold and Taran stumbled back, a severe pain clenching at his stomach. He cried out, his teeth grit and an arm cradling himself. He swore loudly and coarsely but kept a firm grip on the hilt of his weapon.
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Edward Roberts
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Edward Roberts
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Nov 8 2010, 12:12 AM #5

“We must take the lead in this battle” an elder bellowed in front of a huge gathering of Druids, Sorcerers, Sorceresses’ and other magical beings. As he closed a moral boosting speech, the feeling of exhilaration at these uplifting words was what Edward had always dreamt of. The approaching battle against the forces of the magic-hating Camelot guard was on the horizon. The notion of taking part in such an anticipated time filled him with a great confidence not only in himself, but in the cause; to rid the land of Uther and return magic to Camelot and Albion.

The large crowd dispelled and returned to their tents, the clunking of helmets and swords with the chiming of various charms came the increased presence and sense of magic. It swarmed like bees fighting over the last flower of the summer season; it rose from the nature that powered their gifts.

Suddenly, an increased number of Druid supporters emerged and congregated on the edge of a sea of tents, slowly they walked in unison, swords at the ready. Edward sidled into a position within the masses and continued on with his Brothers and Sisters. As the brow of the hill appeared in the distance the mass of magic began to scamper. The words of the elders ringing in his mind, Edward kept to the heels of those at his front and side. His anger towards Camelot and the fear they had instilled in his people provided the spur to maintain him further.

The clattering of the normal yet magical armour, continued at pace as they all sprinted at the opposing sides’ front line. The attack seemed to have caught the knights and soldiers unaware as they looked to be scrambling for their only weapons. Most of the magical soldiers went hard and fast at the camp, but Edward looking over his shoulder for support glimpsed some of their number stood back, observing, waiting for the right moment to summon the power of the Old Religion.

Whispering a warning towards Camelot as he sped up getting ever closer to the Guards,

“You will pay.”

xTx
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Merlin Myrddin
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Nov 12 2010, 12:53 AM #6

It seemed one moment he and Arthur were joking like they were back in Camelot and he was pretending to give irritated glares at the Prince and large rolls of his blue eyes and the next he was frantically tugging armour from the table and wrapping it around Arthur with shaking hands. He was told to stay where he was and he gave a nod of his head, trying to ignore the way his mouth went dry. Gasping in a deep breath, he waited a full five minutes before following Arthur. He blended into the crowd easily, the Knights were all screaming at one another or trying to get over the wall to fight back, nobody paid attention to a servant and he was glad of it. Most of the Guards had left the towers on the wall and were no longer watching the fight but joining in.

Merlin caught a glimpse of Arthur and watched him carefully before launching himself at the ladders and pulling himself up and onto the watch towers. He sent a cursory glance over the knights, not really caring where Arthur was so long as he was meshed in with the rest of the knights. There was already blood everywhere and the air was thick with shouts of the dying men. He bit his lip hard before taking another look at the Prince. Assuring himself nobody was paying attention to him he reached out his hand at the battle field. Nobody would notice magic on his part, not when there were so many spells going around anyway.

"Éastansúðanwind!" The servants eyes glowed brilliant gold and from the south, roaring over the tents and over the wall; straight into the line of Druids still running toward the action. It was strong enough to knock them off their feet and as his eyes returned to normal, he watched as many of them stood, bewildered and stunned for a second into stillness. Nobody looked up at him though, at least not at the moment.

Next spell already in his head he cried out aloud. "Bælþracu!" A fire ripped through the woods behind the fire, several hidden Druids ran from it but it didn't take long for one of them or maybe more to put it out. It didn't matter, he didn't want to kill people like himself, all he had to do was keep them distracted long enough to keep Arthur alive. Somebody noticed him though and before he had time to notice, a spell hit him squarely in the chest and sent him flying backward off the wall and luckily into the heaps of hay stored from the horses. He groaned but he was soon back on his feet and climbing the wall again.
Arthur needed him. Whether the arrogant prat knew it or not.
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Calvin Cat
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Calvin Cat
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Nov 13 2010, 05:23 PM #7

Arrows were hissing through the air, he had to duck down, sometimes, as the arrows were really close to him, then he stood up, targeted and fired the answer of those shots.
But that went just as well, as long as he had ammunition, which was a rare article at that time.
After all, no one with a brain stem would walk into a combat zone, yelling “Arrows, buy fresh arrows!” although he would make the business of his lifetime. On the other hand, that life would be pretty short.
So, after a few shots, he was out of ammunition, slid down the ladder, took out his sword and ran into the battle.

Swinging his sword against the attackers, he hit one of them in the arm, put the sword back out and rose his shield, as another one attacked him.
One of the druids sped up and ran towards the camelotian knights.
‘Is he insane?’, Cal thought, ‘He is not helping. Quite the contrary, that will worsen the situation.’

While he thought that, he didn’t notice, that one guy, was attacking him, knocking him down in the process.
“OUCH!”, Cal made, stood up and turned around. That guy was coming through.
“ONE COMING THROUGH!”, he shouted, turned around, knocked one guy out with his shield and sped up, to catch the one, that came through.
“I Get you!”, he growled, jumped at him and tackled him down.
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Aidan Vastel
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Aidan Vastel
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Nov 15 2010, 12:25 AM #8

Aidan flexed his fingers absently in his leather gloves. The cold here was sickeningly good at piercing whatever garments the knights tried to wear – even their thickest wool and hides. Aidan himself was used to it having fought in Northern realms far more deadly than this, but the younger knights squirmed in their armour as it gathered condensation from the fires they so desperately huddled round. Sitting quietly in his tent, the experienced knight absently stared into a small grate his incompetent manservant had somehow managed to get going, thinking of Fionn and wondering whether she too had has sleep taken from her as she fretted over him as much as he did her.

Outside there came a whistling sound, too distant to be distinguished as anything but Aidan automatically swung up from his perch and strode to the door. His tent was near the back of the encampment, having joined Arthur’s forces so late, but Aidan preferred being out of the noise. He flicked the canvas of the doorway aside and stepped into the night air. At first he was certain all was silent, but gradually – like an approaching arrow – cries of fright began to echo towards him and ugly clash of metal started to cut through the frost.

In less than four minutes, Aidan had bellowed at his servant to saddle his horse and had adorned himself in all he might need on the battle field. He did not bother with his sheath, but simply snatched his sword from within it, letting it jog with him to where his horse awaited him. Safra tossed her mane and snorted impatiently, but became perfectly still as he mounted her. The cries has become louder now or was that just his imagination? All around him, knights were copying his own movements and saddling up. Aidan eyed the surrounding tents and mentally counted the numbers they had.

“WITH ME!” Aidan roared. Immediately, the faces of several surrounding knights snapped around to his and within seconds, Aidan was gathering a small unit of cavalry. Being those knights at the back of the camp, they would be late in joining the battle and needed all the surprise and force they could muster. A dark swirl of dawning clouds churned ominously above them. They would be lucky if they saw through the morning without a drop of rain. Aidan twisted in his saddle to look around him. More than 25 knights surrounded him now, all sitting astride their horses and waiting for him. He caught the eyes of a younger knight and though his sword hand was steady, he could see the terror in his eyes. Aidan sent him a single, encouraging nod before urging Safra forward with a nudge of his foot. Immediately, she spurted on and the other knights followed suit. The impromptu unit stormed through the centre pathway in the camp, reaching the other side in less than a couple of minutes. As they went, they acquired more knights, just leaving their tents having been woken from a few, sparse moments of sleep. Everywhere in his vision were flashes of scarlet and gold locked with the darker, muddied clothes of the druids. He thought he saw a flash of blonde hair (the Prince?) but his eyes were locked ahead and he soon lost sight of it. As the first belated rays of sun managed to push themselves through a crack in the clouds, Aidan’s Cavalry joined the storm.
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Arthur Pendragon
Arthur Pendragon

Nov 17 2010, 09:09 PM #9

There was suddenly a scarlet-clad figure at his side, merging with the sea of figures and glint of steel weapons, flying arrows and crashing shields. Arthur pushed a second man aside, planting a boot on the strangers still chest and wrenching his sword free from the man's side. He turned, pivoting around over the mud to recognize Lusk as the one who had joined him in the fray. The Knight seemed to be attempting to ask something - did he and Beirne never shut up?! - but this was clearly not the time. Arthur felt a movement of air to one side, sensing the rush of a weapon aimed to him more than seeing it, and darted out of the way, knocking the Druids feet from under him. He heard a shout from Lusk's direction but didn't have the time to turn around before something happened.

A wind ripped through the battle, pushing hard on Arthur's back and almost making him lose his balance if he hadn't had the foresight to hunch over, letting the air rush over the slope of his shoulders. Several Druids weren't so lucky - a good number of the foreign men streaming down the hill lost their footing, flying back and slamming down onto the muddy earth. A moment later, as people recovered, a flaming wall sparked in the distance. A few bodies fled the flames, driven from the safety of the trees as they crackled and burned.

Arthur's fair forehead crumpled into a momentary frown. Were they cursing themselves? Gods, anyone would think they had no' one directing them...

Arthur's attention was thrown as another Druid came throwing themselves towards him. The Prince saw two brown eyes burn gold in the strangers face and threw himself aside just as the earth boiled and broke right at the spot he'd been standing. Out of desperation more than anything else, the Prince pushed out with his weapon, finding his mark and pulling it back to him smeared in yet more hot, scarlet blood.

Somewhere, there was a rush of horses, a cavalry joining the swarm of the battle and led by a vaguely familiar face. But Arthur was distracted with battle, and didn't have time to see what became of them.
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Lucan Beirne
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Lucan Beirne
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Nov 17 2010, 09:22 PM #10

Lucan stood one one of the precarious wooden structures, in the same spot he'd been when the Druids had first emerged from the trees. Only when that had happened he'd been casually picking off splinters of wood and flicking them into another Knights head of curly hair, where they clung stubbornly, much to the blonde's amusement. Now, of course, things were rather different.

He set his jaw, ignoring the blonde fair that fell into stormy eyes as he sent yet another arrow arching through the air and ploughing neatly into the back of a long-haired Druid man. Someone shoved a fresh quiver down near his foot, and he grasped and loaded another arrow without looking, sharp eyes seeking out a fresh target from amongst the churning mass of battle beneath him. It was then that he noticed the flash of fair hair that belonged to his Prince, and beside the whirring blade any of Camelot's Knights would recognize as Arthur, a mad mass of curls.

Lucan's stomach lurched painfully up into his stomach as he recognized his best friend, and sent an arrow soaring swiftly through the air and into the frame of a man approaching Taran. The shock at the recognition had sent his aim a bit wide, but the lethal tip of the arrow was still buried deeply in the Druid's shoulder to cause a considerable amount of damage. Although it wasn't enough to cause any satisfaction, because right then Taran doubled over, and Lucan was quite sure he was ready to reject this mornings bread and ale from his stomach and all over the poor idiots fighting below him.

He was down and fighting his way across the field before he even realized he'd made a decision. Lucan's bow lay abandoned where he'd been standing far above, and he worked his way a little clumsily with the sword instead, hacking his way through the sea of bodies and blood and mud to meet his best friend.

"Taran!" He was at the curly haired mans side now, gulping back lungfuls of air. Fair hair was plastered to his sweaty face, and there was something streaked on his cheek that he really, really hoped was mud.
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Merlin Myrddin
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Merlin Myrddin
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Joined: Oct 22 2008, 09:28 PM

Nov 18 2010, 02:43 PM #11

A figure rode toward a familiar man. Merlin didn't know his name but he recognised the face well enough to know it was a Knight of Camelot. He looked around Arthur's age and Merlin could only guess that he'd seen the man in training. He seemed to be struggling as two Druids attacked his with harshly rigid swords that made him feel sick just look at him, he was sure they used magic too and the kid seemed to be struggling against them. He had hoped the other Knights would notice and take pity. He had to watch after Arthur after all, but the battle seemed divided into mini fights, there was nobody to spare to save the boy and so direction his gold gaze at the gaggle of three, he cursed the swords the two Druids held, causing them to drop their weapons and allow the surprised Knight to slice one and then the other in quick movement enviable to the servant who would never be so agile with a sword.

His eyes flashed back to Arthur, shooting spells at Druids who got too close to the Prince whilst he thought on with some savage individual. He managed to duck as more spells soared toward him, send as many as he could back toward the men on the hill top. It hadn't occurred to him to hide himself better. Those Druids could easily direct attention to him... Surely somebody was bound to notice a magical war going on? To busy to put much care in it, he wished he had learned some spell to magick Arthur's armour indestructible.


((Sorry, mine are so short. Merlin doesn't have much to do so he'll just sit on his wall being pretty. :P))
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Eunan Byrne
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Eunan Byrne
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Nov 20 2010, 05:01 PM #12

He had been able to catch a little sleep, two hours or more, he wasn't sure. Here and there sounds filtered from outside - his men preparing, talking amongst themselves, laughing loudly with camp women. Eunan liked to keep the women around the camp, if not for the sake of his men's sanity. Clare could berate and harass him all she liked about having other women anywhere near him - he wouldn't touch the women here with the length of any sword. Through disjointed sleep, he could hear the sounds from outside becoming louder and more frantic, and sometime later (or soon after) loud footsteps trudged towards his tent and the flap was pulled aside. Eunan sat up immediately, fully awake and awake.

"Your Highness...." the Duke bowed briefly "The Druids have began an initial siege, Arthur's men have...." he rallied off things quickly and briefly and as the Duke left, Eunan called one of his men to pull him into a gambeson, his armour. Within half an hour he was outside addressing his men, his Dukes at his side on horseback, the infantry and others behind. He began a quick Pace with his destrier and the loud thud of hooves and feet on the compact Winter earth was deafening. As they drew closer, the sound of fighting could clearly be heard - metal clashing, arrows being loosened, shouts in a foreign tongue. They surged up steep hill, and then down again into a dip and came to meet the enemy on the opposite side. He held up a hand and his Dukes stopped, signally back and back until the army was still. He said nothing for a few moments, surveying the scene, assessing. He moved forward and bought his horse around and with a loud and commanding voice, addressed men men again, reminding them of their purpose in this battle, tactics. He said something about alewives and younger women and they laughed and with a smirk, he bought his horse around again. The Druids had noticed their presence, and a large section had began flowing towards them.

He rose his hand again and he could hear the strings of the bows at the rear become taught. They were getting closer "Hold!' he rose his hand a little higher, his voice a bellow over the silent men. They were very clear in his sights now and with a louder shout yet, he brought his arm down "Fire!" an array of arrows fell meters in from of the initial line and took out the first advancing men and as they fell, he shouted above the clamour of the sea and the army charged forward.

He preferred to be on foot, with his men and without the burden of a horse. He slashed this way and that with his sword, leaning down here and there to slash at a man being attacked viciously by a Druid. He squeezed his knees into the horses sides and it reared a little to kick at a group of tall men. But as his horse settled, and fierce and strong wind hit them from their left side and he winced, barking at a Duke to take initial cover under a small copse. He would find Arthur soon enough for a brief little chat, but he was very sure they were both occupied enough for the moment.
SUKIE'S TUMBLR


sing for absolution, I will be singing, and falling from your grace
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Taran Lusk
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Taran Lusk
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Nov 20 2010, 06:04 PM #13

Taran was taking only a little notice of what was going on around him - a little stupid, considering. But all he could focus on was the pain. He choked a little, and as he did a fierce wind began to howl upwards, surging into the line Druids. He barely kept his balance, but as he heard a familiar voice, he grabbed onto them and straightened himself up "Some magic...." Lucan's concerned face made him grip harder, his mid section still convulsing with remnants of pain, as if the Druids proximity had had something to do with it. There was a tang of blood in his mouth, but not enough to be concerned about, as if he had just been about to bring some up. He breathed in deeply through his nose and held himself still for a few moments, before patting his friend on the back the magic was still making his shake internally, as if his stomach wanted to spill it's contents - as if he needed to, but there wasn't anything in there to do anything with. He had been given a hearty bowl of steaming broth by a camp women and a large hunk of relatively fresh bread which he had washed down with the galician wine. So there was enough in there to keep him strong through this siege. He grit his teeth, curls falling into his eyes "Eunan's men are here....I've seen infantry scattered around...Sir Balin is with them. I think if we keep behind this line of sight, we should be okay...Irick's men are working...." he waved far in front of himself where Irickians could be seen fighting like lions. He clutched ucan's hand roughly "Last time we were in battle, we were both injured. You must promise if I fall, you will not think twice and carry on, and I must do the same" he closed one eye against a rising tremor in his stomach, but it was fainter this time. A small grin spread over his lips "Rhiannon will be disappointed if you don't go back - she has affections for you, you know." if he died in battle, he would want Lucan to marry her, keep her safe, and give her children. Keep her safe from her fiance. They might not be in love, but at least they didn't hate each other like most married couples did.
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Elizabeth Severn
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Elizabeth Severn
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Nov 27 2010, 05:21 PM #14

  • The clash of battle could be heard echoing around the countryside of Hadrian's Wall. It wasn't hard for Elizabeth to find what she was looking for. After all, the sides were pretty easy to spot. Armour and swords on one, robes and magic on the other. How could you get those confused?

    She rounded the hilltop, coming to rest for a moment as she peered at the mass of blood and violence before her. Her gray stallion, Greere, sat patiently, his ears pricked towards the noises in front of him. Mud was streaked up his dark legs and a bit of it had clung to the bottom of his chainmail armor. It clicked lightly as a lingering wind blew past them, bringing the scents of gore up from the fighting. The stallion snorted, tossing his head and making the chainmail around his shoulders shift a bit. He knew that smell.

    Elizabeth sat very still for a moment more, her face etched into a thoughtful expression as she pondered what she was about to do. After all, she was about to go against her family, her religion and her people in a moment. And why? Well, because she didn't agree with them. They fought a war to crush something that they didn't understand. The people in the North could have kept to themselves. They could have stayed over the Wall and kept living in peace, but tensions had risen and now they were brought to this debacle.

    In a moment, her focused shifted. She straightened herself in the saddle, settling her seat into the worn leather as she had so many times before. Tightening the soft leather gloves on her hands, she went over her armor in preparation. Light chainmail shirt, check. Hard leather corset and matching bracers, check. Tall boots and accompanying greaves, check. Drawing her long sword, she tapped her heels back and sent Greere into a slow canter.

    They came down the hill on the far side of the druids' camp, circling around at a safe distance until they came into the flanking side of the Camelot forces. With one last kick, Elizabeth sent her steed pivoting around and sweeping into the druids' forces at a full tilt. The first couple men that they hit went flying or were crushed beneath the stallion's milling hooves. Going to work with her blade, Elizabeth leaned over to her right, swinging the sword in an arc and decapitating an magic user who was just about to launch something at the two young men and the prince.

    A mad, fierce laugh escaped her throat as Greer reared up, pawing at a blast of fire that had come from a druid nearby. Her long curls whipping around, Elizabeth wheeled her horse to land squarely onto a nearby assailant, crushing him in a heartbeat. Glancing back over her shoulder, she kept one eye on the prince and his men. She wasn't sure how they would react to her, or even if they would notice her.
    </li>
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Calvin Cat
Advanced Member
Calvin Cat
Advanced Member
Joined: Dec 25 2009, 11:48 PM

Nov 28 2010, 02:26 PM #15

He was caught in battle.
On the left and on the right of him, there were people dying. Camelotian, Irickian as well as druids.
That war was stupid. If someone just would be in the right mind to say, that it was useless, and that magic was not that evil, it was just a tool, like a sword!
No one would declare a sword-maker evil, because some crazy guy killed people with a sword.
No one would declare a bow-maker evil, because that exact same crazy guy of the previous sentence killed now people with bows and arrows.
No – those deeds would be judged on the individual. But as far as magic was concerned, even the guys, who practiced magic for good things, were evil in Camelot.
Stupid.
Stupid, Stupid, Stupid.
Stupid squared.

But, as long as they were attacked, Cal couldn’t help but feeling pissed, because of himself being attacked, so he defended himself, causing some druids to fall to ground and be wether wounded or dead.
But then, there were reinforcements coming and Cal felt much more safer than before, as he saw, that the reinforcements came with bows and arrows.
Okay, so that was a good thing.

As he noticed that figure coming towards them, sitting on a horse, he couldn’t help but have a closer look at her.
Okay, now that rider was female.
Interesting.
And then the rider continued to attack the druids.

Cal tilted his head.
“is she stupid?”, he mumbled and tried to speed up, but he was blocked by several druids.
“Okay”, he said, hitting one man with his mere fist in the stomach, “I just want to pass – if you”, he whirled around his own axis and kicked another druid against his head, “would let pass me, I would be generous!”

He looked at the young knave of Arthur, who was standing there and seemed focussed on the events. There was something about that boy, he couldn`t put his finger to it. But perhaps, he was just imagining things.
He nodded at him and fought his way through the attackers, until he reached Arthur.
“Hello, My prince.”, he said and kicked one of the druids in the stomach, “I feel reminded of the legendary “Golden Arrow inn” open day, where we were sent to crowd control. Can’t help but feel the urge to tell, that everyone will get their beer.”

Of course he was joking. In reality, his heart was pumping that fast, he feared, that he might pass out.
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