Behind the Serpent Throne (CK2)
- Thread starter The Laurent
- Start date
- Original Fantasy
Jun is leading the reinforcements.
Zeitgeist Blue
Currently Made of Metal
- Location
- Manila, Philippines, GMT +8
[X] Go for the scrolls. Slice them, and perhaps the odds will shift.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Vote closed.
Turn 12: The Battle--Part 9
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Turn 12: The Battle--Part 9
Jun knew the way of the sword. Some said it was merely the way of murder, but if it were so, then why would the Gods had made it so fun. Why would they have created a world where the warrior is exalted if war was not in some way higher than the common Csiritan thought. There was an art to it, and on that dusty, choked up plain, Jun drew his sword.
It was dark, and old, a sword like the ancient tomb it had come from, and yet even to this moment, it remained without spot, without flaw. The spirit in it sang a song, and some nights he just pressed his ear to it and listened. It wanted blood, and it wanted honor, and these two things were, ultimately, one and the same.
Ask a man what the most honorable soldier was, and he'd say a loyal one, one that would kill for the state.
Jun stepped forward, and Isato laughed, drawing his own sword and, in a blur of dust, charging forward.
Jun dodged the first slash, rolling on the ground and up, singing the names of the spirits as he moved. He could barely breath, and yet he forced the names out, let their power fill him as he blurred past another stab, and then a swing downward from a particularly hairy barbarian with a particularly large club.'
It hit the ground, kicking up dust with a horrible thud, and out went Jun's sword, almost slashing the scroll off, and then they hit. Spear tearing into his armor, club impacting against his shield arm, which almost went numb and limp, as the battle became a chaos of survival.
It was a whirlwind in which if he lost his footing he would die, but he spun, slashing again and again, to no effect but to hold off the endless fight. His guards had been left behind by his speed, and the war was going on outside of here. But as long as the enemy focused on him, they couldn't break through.
They couldn't destroy his unit, and if his unit distracted them, then it would all end well. It was hard to think like that when your life was in the hands of a few spirits and your wits, but he needed to lead, he needed to think.
"The age of heroes has passed, just as the age of kings has passed!" Isato yelled, his voice seeming to come from everywhere as blood dripped down Jun's leg and he struggled to stand and fend off the blows. "And all that is left is to deal the final blow! This empire has rotted from too much peace, too much cowardice! But like a wound that can be run clean--"
"Shut up. Shut up!" Jun said, "I am a warrior! Kiralo is a warrior! Ours will be an Empire led to warriors, so...isilin, aynina, Hato-sae!"
His wounds started to close themselves, and the spirits all but kept him standing as he held out his sword and whispered its secret name again and again.
On Isato came, using one of the Sea-Raiders as a distraction.
It was a textbook downward slash.
The textbooks had never prepared for a man like Jun! He dodged it, and struck out, his sword scraping across Isato's helmet, glinting with a dark light.
"The Emperor wills it!" Jun yelled, and up the sword went, hooking on the edge of the enemy's helmet and tearing it off.
It went flying, but Isato just glared, his hair short in a fashion not seen in generations.
It was odd, to see a grown man look like that, Jun thought, without the long hair that was proper for any adult with a mind capable enough care for their own hair, or hire someone to care for it.
So it was an odd look, and it almost made Jun laugh. He looked like a child with his hair barely long enough to run a finger through it, unadorned and alone, as if he was likely to get honey stuck in his hair and thus needed short hair to make it easier to clean.
There was a reason that sane men called the barbarians of the west children, because they did not know how to act as an adult. "Is this your glory? Is this your strength?" Jun dodged an attack, and then slashed up, and caught one of the paper seals on the shortest of the sea-raiders, who gave a bellow and blinked, and then fixed his gaze on Isato.
Behind Jun, he could hear the sounds of battle, and knew that his guards were doing their job well, keeping others off his back so that he could fight with honor and slay the enemy with overwhelming force. Isato was forced to retreat as the sea-raider, his ponytail swishing with each stab, pushed and pushed with reckless vigor, spirits dancing around him in the form of shimmers and bloody-handed birds.
But then on came another enemy, and Jun was forced to retreat as Isato battled the Sea-Raider.
"You're… going. To. Die. Her," Jun choked out, as loud as he could, as he parried a blow and blocked another with his shield, pressing forward, trying to fight his way towards Isato.
In the distance, he could hear the blow of a horn, and that meant that someone was coming, or perhaps going.
He didn't care. He just needed to advance a few steps further, and then he could--
Isato pulled something out, round and dark, like the ghosts of the dead, and then threw it straight at Jun and the Sea-Raider.
Jun blinked, startled out of his fury and power, and then leapt, aware at the last moment that this had to be some sort of explosive.
Hot, angry spirits whose breath was like the caress of a furnance, screamed out as the air filled with dirt and blood. Jun coughed once, then once again, almost unable to breath, fingers gripping onto his sword and shield with all his might, trying to rise slowly.
Isato stood there in the debris. Most of the Sea-Raiders were dead. So were the bodyguards, and Jun kept on coughing. "What… honor is this?"
"It is victory," Isato said, stepping forward.
"Victory? You are a greater…"
But there were no words for those, and he could barely breath as he rose up to his full height, arms aching with the effort to stand. He was bleeding badly, and he wasn't sure whether he'd live or not. But it didn't matter at the moment.
The flower of battle is hardy, boy
He stepped forward, and his blood flowed like that of any man, flowering on the ground itself. They called the trail of a dying man his bloody flower, and spoke of the beauty of chasing down an enemy, as if it were a sport.
It was more than a sport.
Isato struck, and Jun dodged as if it were in his nature to doge.
It needs no tending, it grows strong alone.
A thrust at Isato's middle, to make him think that he was going for a knockdown blow, and then a feint, one way and then another, his arm screaming womanish protests at his weakness, not realizing that his spirit was beyond that.
Today he might die. Tomorrow he should die if he did not do everything in his power to kill Isato now.
The key was to keep Isato from remembering that he was without helmet.
But if you need to feed it, you young fool
He pressed Isato back by sheer will, by sheer grit that didn't allow him to die. He wondered if spirits could puppet a willing body as they did an unwilling, dragging it along even as it is torn apart. Muscles protested, and were silenced, and twice Isato nearly cut him down, landing blows that would have killed him if they were not on the armor.
There was no reason to care about this.
Then slit your wrists and meet the Gods, wide-eyed.
Forward, forward! He was dying, perhaps, but that was life. And then Isato slipped in Jun's blood and went down.
In the span of a few heartbeats, he went from living to dead.
Jun half-collapsed, even as the dust began to clear.
Or do not ask us questions without answers.
"Witness! Witness!" Jun yelled, grabbing onto the severed head, wishing there was more hair to hold it by. "Witness!"
The Sea-Raider attack slowly died, and the battle continued, as his own army swept up the heavily injured, perhaps dying, commander and took him back and back, to the rear, to perhaps the realm of the Gods, or perhaps merely a tent.
********
Around they went. Around the lake, when the enemy was going on the inside. There was only so much that Kueli could do about it, damn it! He had to hit the enemy while they were distracted and committed, but it was clear now that they were going to do the same thing in turn.
He grit his teeth, stopping at the shore of the lake on the other side, eyeing the distance and eyeing the other horses.
Fine things, and a shame to kill them.
But from the smoke and dust, Kueli was pretty certain that adding horse-archers and harassing light cavalry would be appreciated.
He drew his bow and aimed, and then loosed an arrow, and his compatriots did the same. Some hit, from a distance where they were barely visible, for this was quite a lake.
Other shots did not, and Kueli frowned, trying to see the scope of the fight, and where he should go.
Where to go?
[] Try to hit the enemy camps.
[] The enemy back line, the ones still moving towards pushing against the Imperial left.
[] The enemy that is currently going after the left.
[] Cavalry vs. Cavalry, it's on!
[] Try to find Jinhai and kill that son of a bitch, it seems like he has to be somewhere around there!
*******
A/N: And so there we go. An update!
Jun knew the way of the sword. Some said it was merely the way of murder, but if it were so, then why would the Gods had made it so fun. Why would they have created a world where the warrior is exalted if war was not in some way higher than the common Csiritan thought. There was an art to it, and on that dusty, choked up plain, Jun drew his sword.
It was dark, and old, a sword like the ancient tomb it had come from, and yet even to this moment, it remained without spot, without flaw. The spirit in it sang a song, and some nights he just pressed his ear to it and listened. It wanted blood, and it wanted honor, and these two things were, ultimately, one and the same.
Ask a man what the most honorable soldier was, and he'd say a loyal one, one that would kill for the state.
Jun stepped forward, and Isato laughed, drawing his own sword and, in a blur of dust, charging forward.
Jun dodged the first slash, rolling on the ground and up, singing the names of the spirits as he moved. He could barely breath, and yet he forced the names out, let their power fill him as he blurred past another stab, and then a swing downward from a particularly hairy barbarian with a particularly large club.'
It hit the ground, kicking up dust with a horrible thud, and out went Jun's sword, almost slashing the scroll off, and then they hit. Spear tearing into his armor, club impacting against his shield arm, which almost went numb and limp, as the battle became a chaos of survival.
It was a whirlwind in which if he lost his footing he would die, but he spun, slashing again and again, to no effect but to hold off the endless fight. His guards had been left behind by his speed, and the war was going on outside of here. But as long as the enemy focused on him, they couldn't break through.
They couldn't destroy his unit, and if his unit distracted them, then it would all end well. It was hard to think like that when your life was in the hands of a few spirits and your wits, but he needed to lead, he needed to think.
"The age of heroes has passed, just as the age of kings has passed!" Isato yelled, his voice seeming to come from everywhere as blood dripped down Jun's leg and he struggled to stand and fend off the blows. "And all that is left is to deal the final blow! This empire has rotted from too much peace, too much cowardice! But like a wound that can be run clean--"
"Shut up. Shut up!" Jun said, "I am a warrior! Kiralo is a warrior! Ours will be an Empire led to warriors, so...isilin, aynina, Hato-sae!"
His wounds started to close themselves, and the spirits all but kept him standing as he held out his sword and whispered its secret name again and again.
On Isato came, using one of the Sea-Raiders as a distraction.
It was a textbook downward slash.
The textbooks had never prepared for a man like Jun! He dodged it, and struck out, his sword scraping across Isato's helmet, glinting with a dark light.
"The Emperor wills it!" Jun yelled, and up the sword went, hooking on the edge of the enemy's helmet and tearing it off.
It went flying, but Isato just glared, his hair short in a fashion not seen in generations.
It was odd, to see a grown man look like that, Jun thought, without the long hair that was proper for any adult with a mind capable enough care for their own hair, or hire someone to care for it.
So it was an odd look, and it almost made Jun laugh. He looked like a child with his hair barely long enough to run a finger through it, unadorned and alone, as if he was likely to get honey stuck in his hair and thus needed short hair to make it easier to clean.
There was a reason that sane men called the barbarians of the west children, because they did not know how to act as an adult. "Is this your glory? Is this your strength?" Jun dodged an attack, and then slashed up, and caught one of the paper seals on the shortest of the sea-raiders, who gave a bellow and blinked, and then fixed his gaze on Isato.
Behind Jun, he could hear the sounds of battle, and knew that his guards were doing their job well, keeping others off his back so that he could fight with honor and slay the enemy with overwhelming force. Isato was forced to retreat as the sea-raider, his ponytail swishing with each stab, pushed and pushed with reckless vigor, spirits dancing around him in the form of shimmers and bloody-handed birds.
But then on came another enemy, and Jun was forced to retreat as Isato battled the Sea-Raider.
"You're… going. To. Die. Her," Jun choked out, as loud as he could, as he parried a blow and blocked another with his shield, pressing forward, trying to fight his way towards Isato.
In the distance, he could hear the blow of a horn, and that meant that someone was coming, or perhaps going.
He didn't care. He just needed to advance a few steps further, and then he could--
Isato pulled something out, round and dark, like the ghosts of the dead, and then threw it straight at Jun and the Sea-Raider.
Jun blinked, startled out of his fury and power, and then leapt, aware at the last moment that this had to be some sort of explosive.
Hot, angry spirits whose breath was like the caress of a furnance, screamed out as the air filled with dirt and blood. Jun coughed once, then once again, almost unable to breath, fingers gripping onto his sword and shield with all his might, trying to rise slowly.
Isato stood there in the debris. Most of the Sea-Raiders were dead. So were the bodyguards, and Jun kept on coughing. "What… honor is this?"
"It is victory," Isato said, stepping forward.
"Victory? You are a greater…"
But there were no words for those, and he could barely breath as he rose up to his full height, arms aching with the effort to stand. He was bleeding badly, and he wasn't sure whether he'd live or not. But it didn't matter at the moment.
The flower of battle is hardy, boy
He stepped forward, and his blood flowed like that of any man, flowering on the ground itself. They called the trail of a dying man his bloody flower, and spoke of the beauty of chasing down an enemy, as if it were a sport.
It was more than a sport.
Isato struck, and Jun dodged as if it were in his nature to doge.
It needs no tending, it grows strong alone.
A thrust at Isato's middle, to make him think that he was going for a knockdown blow, and then a feint, one way and then another, his arm screaming womanish protests at his weakness, not realizing that his spirit was beyond that.
Today he might die. Tomorrow he should die if he did not do everything in his power to kill Isato now.
The key was to keep Isato from remembering that he was without helmet.
But if you need to feed it, you young fool
He pressed Isato back by sheer will, by sheer grit that didn't allow him to die. He wondered if spirits could puppet a willing body as they did an unwilling, dragging it along even as it is torn apart. Muscles protested, and were silenced, and twice Isato nearly cut him down, landing blows that would have killed him if they were not on the armor.
There was no reason to care about this.
Then slit your wrists and meet the Gods, wide-eyed.
Forward, forward! He was dying, perhaps, but that was life. And then Isato slipped in Jun's blood and went down.
In the span of a few heartbeats, he went from living to dead.
Jun half-collapsed, even as the dust began to clear.
Or do not ask us questions without answers.
"Witness! Witness!" Jun yelled, grabbing onto the severed head, wishing there was more hair to hold it by. "Witness!"
The Sea-Raider attack slowly died, and the battle continued, as his own army swept up the heavily injured, perhaps dying, commander and took him back and back, to the rear, to perhaps the realm of the Gods, or perhaps merely a tent.
********
Around they went. Around the lake, when the enemy was going on the inside. There was only so much that Kueli could do about it, damn it! He had to hit the enemy while they were distracted and committed, but it was clear now that they were going to do the same thing in turn.
He grit his teeth, stopping at the shore of the lake on the other side, eyeing the distance and eyeing the other horses.
Fine things, and a shame to kill them.
But from the smoke and dust, Kueli was pretty certain that adding horse-archers and harassing light cavalry would be appreciated.
He drew his bow and aimed, and then loosed an arrow, and his compatriots did the same. Some hit, from a distance where they were barely visible, for this was quite a lake.
Other shots did not, and Kueli frowned, trying to see the scope of the fight, and where he should go.
Where to go?
[] Try to hit the enemy camps.
[] The enemy back line, the ones still moving towards pushing against the Imperial left.
[] The enemy that is currently going after the left.
[] Cavalry vs. Cavalry, it's on!
[] Try to find Jinhai and kill that son of a bitch, it seems like he has to be somewhere around there!
*******
Attack #1: 1d100+13=19, reroll=67
Attack #2: 16, reroll luckily 92
The Warriors of the Sea: 77, 102
Ow.
Attack #3: 1d100+13-1=36
Isato--The Death of Kings: 1d100+9=25
The Lords of Creation (Mourning Star): 74
The Gods and Emperors (Mourning Star): 1d100+13+4 (Bonus)=38, ow
The Warriors of the Sea #2: 68, 28
The Guards of the General: 101
Out, Damn Scroll: 1d100+13=15, reroll, 106
The Rage of the Sea?!: 70
Attack #4: Slicing the Bonds of the Ocean: 31, not so hot.
Isato: The Future of War--1d100+20=110
Attack #5: Desperate Strokes: 102
Ocean's Fury?: 1d100+10=53
Attack #6: 1d100+13-5=83
Gods Cry: 1d100=81
Blood on the Plains: 79
And In the Rivers of Sorrow: 24
And in the Gutters of Blood: 98+96+70
One Man Remains: No roll needed
Kueli's Attacks?:36, 42, 96
Attack #2: 16, reroll luckily 92
The Warriors of the Sea: 77, 102
Ow.
Attack #3: 1d100+13-1=36
Isato--The Death of Kings: 1d100+9=25
The Lords of Creation (Mourning Star): 74
The Gods and Emperors (Mourning Star): 1d100+13+4 (Bonus)=38, ow
The Warriors of the Sea #2: 68, 28
The Guards of the General: 101
Out, Damn Scroll: 1d100+13=15, reroll, 106
The Rage of the Sea?!: 70
Attack #4: Slicing the Bonds of the Ocean: 31, not so hot.
Isato: The Future of War--1d100+20=110
Attack #5: Desperate Strokes: 102
Ocean's Fury?: 1d100+10=53
Attack #6: 1d100+13-5=83
Gods Cry: 1d100=81
Blood on the Plains: 79
And In the Rivers of Sorrow: 24
And in the Gutters of Blood: 98+96+70
One Man Remains: No roll needed
Kueli's Attacks?:36, 42, 96
A/N: And so there we go. An update!
[X] Try to hit the enemy camps.
The Rassit are limited in number, I believe only in the hundreds, so they're unlikely to be able to decisively change a battle involving tens of thousands. Instead go to the camps as they should be vulnerable, and it can act as a severe morale crush on the whole army if they witness their camps being burned down. There should also be a great deal of valuable people, supplies, and the recovering wounded here.
It's also likely that by aiming to go for the camps, that someone in Jinhai's army is going to have to be diverted regardless as you don't let them ravage your camp without recompense, so it still serves a roll in pulling forces away from the battle.
The Rassit are limited in number, I believe only in the hundreds, so they're unlikely to be able to decisively change a battle involving tens of thousands. Instead go to the camps as they should be vulnerable, and it can act as a severe morale crush on the whole army if they witness their camps being burned down. There should also be a great deal of valuable people, supplies, and the recovering wounded here.
It's also likely that by aiming to go for the camps, that someone in Jinhai's army is going to have to be diverted regardless as you don't let them ravage your camp without recompense, so it still serves a roll in pulling forces away from the battle.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
It should be noted that they're backed up by the other light cav.
Even better if it's light cav vs light cav honestly.
I think he means that the Rassit have the rest of our light cavalry with them. In which case:
[x] The enemy back line, the ones still moving towards pushing against the Imperial left.
Let's see if we can isolate the force attacking our left. We also know that Jinhai's artillery is somewhere in that area. The Rassit will be coming in on a different line than the trap this time and the guns seem to have been turned forward. If we get the chance to silence their artillery then that's a blow the whole battlefield can hear.
If their cavalry goes to engage Kueli then it's in action behind their lines and out of the greater battle. Led by the Rassit, our cavalry will be better than theirs at extricating itself from the chaos if needed elsewhere. I'm not worried about their cavalry ignoring our and attacking our lines because they'd be attacking organised formations from the front with Hanin in reserve.
They've just lost a commander and we now know that scroll removal works. And Jun is down - he seemed to have trouble breathing from the beginning of the fight.
The downside is that the people in the camps will be regular citizen again once the sun sets if all goes well. Attacking the Camp will be a war winning move if we lose the battle, but if we win it is going to be senseless slaughter.
Random Member
Gardener of Human Happiness
- Location
- Behind You
Luckily we haven't drawn from the reserves yet, so we still have a good number of Hanin to counter their cavalry.
[X] The enemy back line, the ones still moving towards pushing against the Imperial left.
This does seem like a good opportunity to hit the enemy camp. Almost too good. Meh, I'd rather make sure our left is safe.
[X] The enemy back line, the ones still moving towards pushing against the Imperial left.
This does seem like a good opportunity to hit the enemy camp. Almost too good. Meh, I'd rather make sure our left is safe.
Zeitgeist Blue
Currently Made of Metal
- Location
- Manila, Philippines, GMT +8
[X] The enemy back line, the ones still movingtowards pushing against the Imperial left.
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Still plenty of time to vote!
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Vote closed, update Thursday.
Turn 12: The Battle--Part 10
- Pronouns
- They/Them
Turn 12: The Battle--Part 10
The war unfolded before Kueli's eyes, but he was not some distant observer. He had his own men, who he trusted, and the light cavalry that had been trained… who he trusted somewhat less, in all honesty. They were the kind of people who were decent enough, for Csiritans, but it was their numbers that mattered more than their skill. It meant there would be more bodies to loose arrows, more chances for the enemy to have to divert resources to fight them.
Could he go after Jinhai, or the camp? Yes, but in that moment he felt the pulse of the war, of the fight as it stood. He could not see to the far end, he did not know that the cannons had fallen almost silent, as the enemy retreated from the hill.
All he knew was that there were banners coming forward, and that if they met, the Imperial Army might just be thrown back, after all.
Jinhai was pushing hard, and he needed to stumble, he needed to fall. And so Kueli spurred his horse and shouted orders, first in Southlander, and then in Csiritan, and the mass began to move, spreading out as they did.
Horses moved into a steady trot, and they were ready to go faster, and unlike the formation of a group of foot soldiers, being spread out was not a weakness, not when the purpose was to harass the enemy.
There were orders, ones that Kueli knew well, that oculd bring them together if they needed a mass volley, but now wasn't the moment.
He timed it perfectly, looping around the edge of the lake, and headed right for a purple-banner, with elaborate script on it, detailing whose banner it was.
The storm of arrows cut down the bannerman, but someone picked it up, and they turned, belatedly, swinging their spears around to create a wall.
But what use was a wll when arrows were swarming at you like stinging flies. But some of the light cavalry got too close, and among the infantry were archers, standing down on the ground, and yet aiming well. A few men fell, and Kueli whistled, and they wheeled around, firing against the next formation of the enemy, with a red and black banner, which returned the favor vigorously.
An arrow killed the Rassit next to Kueli, and Arimi took another in his shoulder, cursing, as Kueli focused on the moment.
Draw and loose, draw and loose. One shot, one kill, that was the way it had to be done. Already, the enemy had slowed down and bunched up in an attempt to fire at them as they rode past, and so Kueli ignored the losses and continued his grim work.
Cannons began firing, and one plowed into two horses and their riders who had clumped too far together, shattering the legs of the beasts, and sending the riders tumbling to the ground.
They could only hope to their deaths, because some of the enemy spearmen were advancing with grim looks in their eyes, all in a knot, ready to murder the bastards on the horses now that they were at ground level.
Kueli caught one in the eye with an arrow, but he couldn't save the two men, and more cannon shots were fired. Most missed, but a few seemed to be filled with little balls, which was certainly new. It was like throwing chunks of gravel at people, and against the protective spirits of the Rassit, it did little, but against the light cavalry it brought them down if they were distracted enough, or busy enough.
It was a special form of chaos, one that didn't seem to end at all, but Kueli kept on going, whirling around and around as more and more people died. The Rassit were being disrupted, the light cavalry scattered and made ineffective.
It was the perfect set of countermoves, and without the Hanin, either. There were a few crossbows, here and there, but this was just pure tactics, the way the arrows slammed into the first layer, and then the spirits came up to shield them against the shots of the next oncoming horsemen, and then the spearmen would come together as a group at just the right moment to take advantage of the way the cannons were firing.
This wasn't a battle he could win, and it was the privilege of the Rassit to run from such battles. It was their job. Run, and then find a better, more unfair fight, and slaughter the enemy there.
But Kueli wasn't just a Rassit now. There was a war going on, a fight for the lives of millions, and so he yelled himself horse making sure none of his Rassit scattered, making so that there was no cowardice, just duty.
Fuck, this wasn't the kind of fight he loved. He loosed one arrow, and then a second and third, shouting orders to pull back. His Rassit could hit from a far greater distance than they thought, and as long as the enemy was threatened, then everything else could sort itself out. This was a grind, the sort of thing that exhausted horses and men, and the enemy cavalry was unopposed as it ran along the line, but couldn't find enough purchase to end the fight.
He saw it from far away, taking in the details in a single glance and knowing that he had to leave. This was going to get far, far worse before it got better, and so he yelled out, "Once more!"
And the Rassit charged, bunching up only long enough to loose a single volley, the cavalry screening them, and then they turned to retreat, only for a volley of noise and death to slam into the cavalry from the other side, as the enemy cavalry turned.
They wanted to kill them: they wanted to prove themselves.
Kueli just wanted to escape.
*******
So too did the troops, Jinhai thought, coldly, closing his eyes and reviewing what he had. And what he had was still considerable. He had plenty of resources, and yet he'd pushed too hard, and more than that, he'd been countered. Kill the Rassit, and that was one victory, but the other?
He needed to stop playing Kiralo's games. Cs-Kiralo. Jinhai cursed the name as he leaned over to a messenger, "Tell them…"
"Our men are breaking!" a man yelled, panic in his voice.
He counted to three breaths, in and out slowly, and said, "If they can retreat, then they're doing just as I planned. Especially if they can leave surprises behind. Tell the captains that if they fail to keep the men from panic, they shall disappoint me." He sat up straighter in the saddle, his mind running ahead. "I should go as well, anyways," he said to himself, drawing up the reins. He might be needed to restore order, gripping hard on his horse, Journey, and already beginning to cast out spirits under his breath.
Damn that man. Damn that he was an enemy. A mind that clever could have been useful, if what he knew to be true held up. If the world changed, day by day, as the world did.
Great care would be needed, if he was going to prepare the Empire. As long as that boy and his fool advisor remained in control…
"Always remember: you act for the good of all, and no ambition is too great."
*******
The enemy was running in a blind panic, but slowly they seemed to regain their nerves. It was remarkable, Captain Hao-ren thought, eyes wide as he paced among the gaps in the lines of his men. They were retreating in good, if ragged order. Most forces wouldn't do that even if the Gods themselves stepped down in front of them, once they broke.
And far off in the distance, those blasted Rassit that he was supposed to think were 'his' were stumbling away, exhausted.
Which one was the enemy? Truly? Sometimes he did not know, so strange was the world and the way it twisted and turned, and yet he had to be loyal to the Emperor. He had to stand tall, he had to.
Oh, by the Gods.
He stared, in naked amazement. One of the men near the center… how had.
*******
Kueli fired seven arrows in six seconds, his bow almost snapping despite the desperate whispers to the great spirits to aid him. The enemy had pushed forward, coming on Arimi, though they couldn't have known that he was a companion of Kiralo's.
Instead, they were aiming for the wounded, for the dying, pushing through with sheer force.
Kueli had grabbed the reigns and all but hauled his horse around, screaming apologies as it reared.
Then he'd fired. Once, twice, three times, but on they came, on and on. It was an equal fight, in terms of numbers, but he was a Rassit.
Who could hit the wind? Who could survive the harshest windstorms?
His eyes got hot, and he was barely thinking as he aimed and fired, aimed and fired, his knees ordering his horse to turn as he half-stood up on the old girl, making himself a greater target.
Who can catch the wind?!
He screamed out the name of a spirit, and a man was dragged from his saddle. Then he stood all the way up, his horse not rearing.
A good Rassit horse, it was.
He kept it up, not pausing or slowing down, once leaping over an arrow and landing back on the horse with a single foot, balancing perfectly as he rode away at high speed, firing all the way.
The enemy at first tried to pursue him,ignoring the rest of the Rassit and cavalry, and then, dismayed and their morale broken as over a dozen went down in a handful of seconds, they broke off.
Kueli… got away.
********
Kiralo heard what he could hear with as much calm and inner peace as he could. He needed to act now, make a decision, and he knew it would change things.
Two sides of him warred. One part of himself called it caution and aggression, another called it the diplomat and the warrior.
He could pursue, now. The enemy was retreating in good stead, but if he hammered them now, before they returned to the rest of their forces, he could slaughter them. The ground would drink well this morning, and perhaps he could even press on and end this war, right here and now. It was tempting, and he could picture the movements in his head, the way he could keep at least some of the dangers minimized.
But what if he had a few more tricks left? What if he were waiting for such a thing. And what if he got the upper hand. But more than that, what if the rest of the army arrived in an hour? If he held back, and sent a demand for surrender, the Prince would reject it, but his men would hear about it, and perhaps Kiralo could win the game of recovery, and work through what Jinhai's next move would be.
And every minute passing was another minute that the army of Hari-Nat could arrive, and if they did, that might yet force an end to this battle with far less bloodshed.
He had to choose.
What's the choice?
[] Attack. Push on, now!
[] Don't. Recover and prepare for his next push.
[] Write-in.
A/N: Sword or the ball, eh? This is getting on in time, isn't it?
The war unfolded before Kueli's eyes, but he was not some distant observer. He had his own men, who he trusted, and the light cavalry that had been trained… who he trusted somewhat less, in all honesty. They were the kind of people who were decent enough, for Csiritans, but it was their numbers that mattered more than their skill. It meant there would be more bodies to loose arrows, more chances for the enemy to have to divert resources to fight them.
Could he go after Jinhai, or the camp? Yes, but in that moment he felt the pulse of the war, of the fight as it stood. He could not see to the far end, he did not know that the cannons had fallen almost silent, as the enemy retreated from the hill.
All he knew was that there were banners coming forward, and that if they met, the Imperial Army might just be thrown back, after all.
Jinhai was pushing hard, and he needed to stumble, he needed to fall. And so Kueli spurred his horse and shouted orders, first in Southlander, and then in Csiritan, and the mass began to move, spreading out as they did.
Horses moved into a steady trot, and they were ready to go faster, and unlike the formation of a group of foot soldiers, being spread out was not a weakness, not when the purpose was to harass the enemy.
There were orders, ones that Kueli knew well, that oculd bring them together if they needed a mass volley, but now wasn't the moment.
He timed it perfectly, looping around the edge of the lake, and headed right for a purple-banner, with elaborate script on it, detailing whose banner it was.
The storm of arrows cut down the bannerman, but someone picked it up, and they turned, belatedly, swinging their spears around to create a wall.
But what use was a wll when arrows were swarming at you like stinging flies. But some of the light cavalry got too close, and among the infantry were archers, standing down on the ground, and yet aiming well. A few men fell, and Kueli whistled, and they wheeled around, firing against the next formation of the enemy, with a red and black banner, which returned the favor vigorously.
An arrow killed the Rassit next to Kueli, and Arimi took another in his shoulder, cursing, as Kueli focused on the moment.
Draw and loose, draw and loose. One shot, one kill, that was the way it had to be done. Already, the enemy had slowed down and bunched up in an attempt to fire at them as they rode past, and so Kueli ignored the losses and continued his grim work.
Cannons began firing, and one plowed into two horses and their riders who had clumped too far together, shattering the legs of the beasts, and sending the riders tumbling to the ground.
They could only hope to their deaths, because some of the enemy spearmen were advancing with grim looks in their eyes, all in a knot, ready to murder the bastards on the horses now that they were at ground level.
Kueli caught one in the eye with an arrow, but he couldn't save the two men, and more cannon shots were fired. Most missed, but a few seemed to be filled with little balls, which was certainly new. It was like throwing chunks of gravel at people, and against the protective spirits of the Rassit, it did little, but against the light cavalry it brought them down if they were distracted enough, or busy enough.
It was a special form of chaos, one that didn't seem to end at all, but Kueli kept on going, whirling around and around as more and more people died. The Rassit were being disrupted, the light cavalry scattered and made ineffective.
It was the perfect set of countermoves, and without the Hanin, either. There were a few crossbows, here and there, but this was just pure tactics, the way the arrows slammed into the first layer, and then the spirits came up to shield them against the shots of the next oncoming horsemen, and then the spearmen would come together as a group at just the right moment to take advantage of the way the cannons were firing.
This wasn't a battle he could win, and it was the privilege of the Rassit to run from such battles. It was their job. Run, and then find a better, more unfair fight, and slaughter the enemy there.
But Kueli wasn't just a Rassit now. There was a war going on, a fight for the lives of millions, and so he yelled himself horse making sure none of his Rassit scattered, making so that there was no cowardice, just duty.
Fuck, this wasn't the kind of fight he loved. He loosed one arrow, and then a second and third, shouting orders to pull back. His Rassit could hit from a far greater distance than they thought, and as long as the enemy was threatened, then everything else could sort itself out. This was a grind, the sort of thing that exhausted horses and men, and the enemy cavalry was unopposed as it ran along the line, but couldn't find enough purchase to end the fight.
He saw it from far away, taking in the details in a single glance and knowing that he had to leave. This was going to get far, far worse before it got better, and so he yelled out, "Once more!"
And the Rassit charged, bunching up only long enough to loose a single volley, the cavalry screening them, and then they turned to retreat, only for a volley of noise and death to slam into the cavalry from the other side, as the enemy cavalry turned.
They wanted to kill them: they wanted to prove themselves.
Kueli just wanted to escape.
*******
So too did the troops, Jinhai thought, coldly, closing his eyes and reviewing what he had. And what he had was still considerable. He had plenty of resources, and yet he'd pushed too hard, and more than that, he'd been countered. Kill the Rassit, and that was one victory, but the other?
He needed to stop playing Kiralo's games. Cs-Kiralo. Jinhai cursed the name as he leaned over to a messenger, "Tell them…"
"Our men are breaking!" a man yelled, panic in his voice.
He counted to three breaths, in and out slowly, and said, "If they can retreat, then they're doing just as I planned. Especially if they can leave surprises behind. Tell the captains that if they fail to keep the men from panic, they shall disappoint me." He sat up straighter in the saddle, his mind running ahead. "I should go as well, anyways," he said to himself, drawing up the reins. He might be needed to restore order, gripping hard on his horse, Journey, and already beginning to cast out spirits under his breath.
Damn that man. Damn that he was an enemy. A mind that clever could have been useful, if what he knew to be true held up. If the world changed, day by day, as the world did.
Great care would be needed, if he was going to prepare the Empire. As long as that boy and his fool advisor remained in control…
"Always remember: you act for the good of all, and no ambition is too great."
*******
The enemy was running in a blind panic, but slowly they seemed to regain their nerves. It was remarkable, Captain Hao-ren thought, eyes wide as he paced among the gaps in the lines of his men. They were retreating in good, if ragged order. Most forces wouldn't do that even if the Gods themselves stepped down in front of them, once they broke.
And far off in the distance, those blasted Rassit that he was supposed to think were 'his' were stumbling away, exhausted.
Which one was the enemy? Truly? Sometimes he did not know, so strange was the world and the way it twisted and turned, and yet he had to be loyal to the Emperor. He had to stand tall, he had to.
Oh, by the Gods.
He stared, in naked amazement. One of the men near the center… how had.
*******
Kueli fired seven arrows in six seconds, his bow almost snapping despite the desperate whispers to the great spirits to aid him. The enemy had pushed forward, coming on Arimi, though they couldn't have known that he was a companion of Kiralo's.
Instead, they were aiming for the wounded, for the dying, pushing through with sheer force.
Kueli had grabbed the reigns and all but hauled his horse around, screaming apologies as it reared.
Then he'd fired. Once, twice, three times, but on they came, on and on. It was an equal fight, in terms of numbers, but he was a Rassit.
Who could hit the wind? Who could survive the harshest windstorms?
His eyes got hot, and he was barely thinking as he aimed and fired, aimed and fired, his knees ordering his horse to turn as he half-stood up on the old girl, making himself a greater target.
Who can catch the wind?!
He screamed out the name of a spirit, and a man was dragged from his saddle. Then he stood all the way up, his horse not rearing.
A good Rassit horse, it was.
He kept it up, not pausing or slowing down, once leaping over an arrow and landing back on the horse with a single foot, balancing perfectly as he rode away at high speed, firing all the way.
The enemy at first tried to pursue him,ignoring the rest of the Rassit and cavalry, and then, dismayed and their morale broken as over a dozen went down in a handful of seconds, they broke off.
Kueli… got away.
********
Kiralo heard what he could hear with as much calm and inner peace as he could. He needed to act now, make a decision, and he knew it would change things.
Two sides of him warred. One part of himself called it caution and aggression, another called it the diplomat and the warrior.
He could pursue, now. The enemy was retreating in good stead, but if he hammered them now, before they returned to the rest of their forces, he could slaughter them. The ground would drink well this morning, and perhaps he could even press on and end this war, right here and now. It was tempting, and he could picture the movements in his head, the way he could keep at least some of the dangers minimized.
But what if he had a few more tricks left? What if he were waiting for such a thing. And what if he got the upper hand. But more than that, what if the rest of the army arrived in an hour? If he held back, and sent a demand for surrender, the Prince would reject it, but his men would hear about it, and perhaps Kiralo could win the game of recovery, and work through what Jinhai's next move would be.
And every minute passing was another minute that the army of Hari-Nat could arrive, and if they did, that might yet force an end to this battle with far less bloodshed.
He had to choose.
What's the choice?
[] Attack. Push on, now!
[] Don't. Recover and prepare for his next push.
[] Write-in.
Kueli's Move: 1d100+12+2=86
Kueli's Action 2: 1d100+14=76
Jinhai's Countermoves (Infantry): 1d100+10+1=67
Kueli's Attack: 1d100+14+5 (Good Plan, solid execution)=36, but luck not so great.
Jinhai's Counter (Cannons): 1d100+8+1=54
Meanwhile, on the front line: 1d100 vs 1d100 (Jinhai's Forces)=6 vs. 63, Jinhai has an advantage of momentum, and they're still trying to recover from the Sea-Raiders.
Kueli's Attack 4: 1d100+14-1 (Bad Luck)=22, ow.
Jinhai: 181...geeze.
Front Lines: 1d100 vs 1d100-8 (Death of Commanders)-4 (Jun's Forces finally pressing)=78 vs. 7, attack as slackening, the bloody grind seems to be ending.
Kueli, Pull a Rabbit?: 1d100=90... close, but this is getting bloody.
Kueli, Morale?: 1d100+10=65
Press On, Weaken the Attempt at a Follow Up: 1d100+14+5=109
Fade, Retreat, and Fire: 73
Cavalry Incoming?: 55
Front Lines: 86 vs. ...2, enemy is breaking, I repeat, enemy is breaking.
This is What Horses Are For (Jinhai): 62
Stand! Retreat Like Men!: 11...failure
Second Try, Jinhai's Sending Orders Directly: 1d100+9+3=15, but rerolled, =112+7 (Wow)=119, they begin to retreat in good order.
Kueli's Escape?: 1d100+14+5 (Skill)-3 (Exhausted)=36
Dogging?: 84
Kueli's Struggle: 77, 184, 87
Thought: 1d100+15=???
Kueli's Action 2: 1d100+14=76
Jinhai's Countermoves (Infantry): 1d100+10+1=67
Kueli's Attack: 1d100+14+5 (Good Plan, solid execution)=36, but luck not so great.
Jinhai's Counter (Cannons): 1d100+8+1=54
Meanwhile, on the front line: 1d100 vs 1d100 (Jinhai's Forces)=6 vs. 63, Jinhai has an advantage of momentum, and they're still trying to recover from the Sea-Raiders.
Kueli's Attack 4: 1d100+14-1 (Bad Luck)=22, ow.
Jinhai: 181...geeze.
Front Lines: 1d100 vs 1d100-8 (Death of Commanders)-4 (Jun's Forces finally pressing)=78 vs. 7, attack as slackening, the bloody grind seems to be ending.
Kueli, Pull a Rabbit?: 1d100=90... close, but this is getting bloody.
Kueli, Morale?: 1d100+10=65
Press On, Weaken the Attempt at a Follow Up: 1d100+14+5=109
Fade, Retreat, and Fire: 73
Cavalry Incoming?: 55
Front Lines: 86 vs. ...2, enemy is breaking, I repeat, enemy is breaking.
This is What Horses Are For (Jinhai): 62
Stand! Retreat Like Men!: 11...failure
Second Try, Jinhai's Sending Orders Directly: 1d100+9+3=15, but rerolled, =112+7 (Wow)=119, they begin to retreat in good order.
Kueli's Escape?: 1d100+14+5 (Skill)-3 (Exhausted)=36
Dogging?: 84
Kueli's Struggle: 77, 184, 87
Thought: 1d100+15=???
A/N: Sword or the ball, eh? This is getting on in time, isn't it?