Greetings all - the OOC board for this roleplay can be found at the following link. Direct all inquiries to Rakoshnor...
http://www.roleplaygateway.com/post107398.html?hilit=#p107398___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Two armies stood facing each other across a wide field, littered with scraps of armour and weapons and with ravens cawing to each other, their harsh croaking the only sound except for the snap of pennons in the wind.
One of the armies stood silent watch on the walls of the keep, staring across the field with grim faces, their hands gripping weapons. Dressed in simple chain mail and warm cloaks as the chill wind whistled around the ramparts, they stared across at the army that sheltered in the lee of the forest.
The army that sheltered there was vastly different from the grim men on the castle ramparts, keeping watch. One look at the encampment and one would be almost blinded by the myriad of colours. Dressed in armour that was brightly dyed, and with one hundred such colours, it was hard to imagine order being kept among to troops. But upon closer inspection, sections of the encampment seemed to be devoted to certain colours. The largest encampment seemed to be the colour blue, with the largest tent dyed in brilliant hues and a frequent buzz of activity moving in and around it.
The army near the forest outnumbered the army on the ramparts at least three to one. They stared across at each other in grim silence, contemplating the next attack.
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Kasumi stood in the doorway of his tent, dressed in the armour of clan warlord, holding the ceremonial baton of his position. He stared thoughtfully across the field at the keep, with its dull grey colours and silent and grim defenders. This world was so different to Kelewan, but he had orders to remain and take the place called Crydee. He gestured to his second and soon a series of commands were relayed over the encampment.
It was time for another assault.
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Arutha stood next to a lowly guardsmen and watched the flurry of activity begin that would precedent a new attack. For weeks now they had been repulsing this invading army of foreign origin but they could not hold for much longer.
Swordmaster Fannon has fallen only yesterday, gravely injured and so the reins of command fell upon Arutha and he now stared moodily across the field, trying to predict their moves. They had shown no creativity in their attacks, simply flinging themselves at the wall in blind stupidity. At the end of the fighting, both armies ceased fire, and under unspoken agreement, joined together to retrieve their wounded and fallen, before resuming the war.
Arutha’s brow was furrowed in thought. In the years that had passed since young Pug and Tomas had found the alien sailor on the shores. How he wished his father, Duke Borric, were here to take charge. Now he was alone, Lyam, his brother, had joined their father in Westeros and Arutha was left at Crydee.
There was movement behind and a gruff cough. Arutha turned and found himself face to face with Amos Trask, the infamous pirate lord that Arutha had rescued from the attack by harbour of the Tsurani. When Amos appeared to have nothing to say, Arutha turned back to his surveying of the field. Ordered ranks were now appearing and the troops seemed to about to make their march on Crydee.
Arutha raised his hand, in a silent signal, and there was movement around the keep as soldiers moved to take positions.
The engagement was about to begin...