- Location
- va
[X]Ignore the structure and head directly for Summer.
Bunraku (Samurai Mecha Quest)
- Thread starter Omicron
- Start date
- Original
- Location
- St. Petersburg
[x]Head for that unknown place to investigate it.
Maybe there's food? You'll never know!
Now that we have refused to pick up a gift for a dragon, perhaps we need to come up with something else. If we know why the place fell, we might be able to use it to argue our case and what kind of service we could provide.
Maybe there's food? You'll never know!
Now that we have refused to pick up a gift for a dragon, perhaps we need to come up with something else. If we know why the place fell, we might be able to use it to argue our case and what kind of service we could provide.
VII. Shidao's Stand
- Location
- Brittany, France
- Pronouns
- He/Him
VII. Shidao's Stand
If nothing else, this might be a chance to find something valuable to bring to the dragon lord, so that he might hold you higher in his favor than some disheveled ronin. You turn your bunraku towards the glow and leave the river behind you.
You cross through patches of wild wheat, fertile land oddly defined. Years of war leveraging ever-more deadly weapons and intense spiritual power have plagued the heartlands of the Empire, creating these blackened warlands where vegetation struggles to grow. Maintaining the fertility of one's lands is one of the most vital task any lord must oversee. But here, there are pockets of green, fertile earth in which sprout healthy trees and wild weeds in the middle of an otherwise tainted earth, a decidedly unnatural sight.
The structure stands on a hilltop, at the ouskirts of the forested hills which mark the frontier of Summer's territory. At first, you think it's a castle; but as you get closer you realize it is more a temporary fort, a construct of wood and earthen ramparts quickly put together to hold territory before the city could afford the time and resources to create true fortifications. That fort failed in its task, evidently - it has crumbled, beams jutting out of earthen heaps like scattered bones in a scavenger's den. The blue-green glow seems to emanate from these ruins. As you try to determine how old that collapse is, you realize that there are vines and shrubs sprouting from the ruins, even though the place doesn't look that old.
In front of that destroyed fort is something more interesting: a small camp, made up of a handful of tents and a hastily-built wooden palisade. In the middle of that camp flies a tattered standard - three stalks of wheat in a sun at the zenith, the mon of Summer. Caution on your mind, you close the hatch of the bunraku, turning your world to an oppressive darkness. Slipping your right hand out of its glove, you lower the telescopic apparatus and rest your head against it; it shifts to accommodate the specific shape of your forehead, and the mirrors offer before you the landscape as seen through the eyes of your armor. You feel much taller suddenly, towering over the tall grass and scrawny, sparse trees that surround you.
As you approach there is a flurry of activity in the camp. People jump out of their tents, quickly grab bows and climb onto their palisade, holding their arrows towards you. You can make two dozen people facing you, with a few more behind them. One of them, wearing lamellar armor and a helmet sporting a coiled dragon, raises one hand and shouts at your approach: "Halt!"
You eye the ragtag group in front of you and politely stop, although not without one last earth-shaking step that makes the eyes of the soldiers wide with fear. Your bunraku is taller than their palisade, and their bows are small compound bows, not samurai's yomi. They may pierce your outer shell if the men wielding them are skilled, but will not damage any internal component of your armor - to put it simply, there is nothing these men can do to harm you.
"Greetings," you say, and your voice is carried through ingenious wind-tubes to come out of Harvest's maiden-mask, a howling tone like the wind on a battlefield. "I am Princess Tomoe, a masterless warrior and puppeteer. I come to you without ill intent."
At the word "princess," a few of the men look to each other, lowering their bows slightly. Their leader seems more interested in the "masterless" part, and frowns under his helm.
"What brings you here, ronin?"
"I have come to offer my services to the lord of Summer. From your standard, I wager you are his men?"
The man nods curtly. "I am Shidao, a sergeant of Summer and a servant of He-Who-Reads-The-Stars. But what brings you here?"
If the man could see your face you would affect a bemused look. "The place glows, sergeant. I was simply following the river towards Summer, but well, I could hardly let pass such an interesting sight on my way to a lord famed for his… Esoteric interests."
The sergeant scoffs, which draws your interest. Most men of his rank would be deferential to a noble - even a ronin, and especially one of imperial blood. Looking at his men more attentively, you can see that they look tired, their light armor is damaged in a few places, and two sport bandages from recent wounds. It seems exhaustion has worn out their sense of decorum.
"If you truly intend to offer yourself to the lord of Summer, ronin, then I formally request your assistance for me and my men."
You ponder this for a moment, then nod your armor's head. "Very well. But I hope we can discuss this assistance around a meal. I ran out of food days ago."
You sit in the middle of the camp, tearing through a bowl of unseasoned rice, your armor standing at attention nearby. There are no bows pointed at you now, although the men are still wary; Shidao is the only one sitting with you.
"This place was supposed to be the vanguard of Summer's expansion," he says looking at the nearby ruins. "Forts and watchtowers to secure the perimeter, and then some kind of divine contraption our lord had retrieved from a blighted crater to return the warlands to fertility. We were going to have a wider territory, more food, and we'd push back the bandits that had been scouring the edges of our domain." He scoffs. "Look around you how well that worked out."
"We thought the bandits were a few disparate groups, easy to eradicate once we had some fortifications in the region. Turns out, their reaction to seeing us put down a fort and towers was to retreat further away, confer between themselves, and unite as a single force under some kind of 'prince.' They came out of the hills two weeks ago and besieged the fort. We held fast for a week, but this place was never meant to endure for so long. On the seventh night they managed to set fire to the main building, and our captain…" He sighs. "I don't know what he did. He took the relic and did something with it and just like that, the fire went out. We cheered - and then the entire structure started groaning and shaking around us, and the captain made a pale face, and next thing we knew the castle was collapsing in on itself with trees growing out of the ground or sommat. Most of us managed to escape - not all. Captain never had a chance, he couldn't even move, not even let go of that dumb relic. And then we were stranded outside our castle, having only just routed the bandits, with only the clothes on our back and a spear for every two men. So we made our way back to Summer as fast as we could - not fast enough. Bandits came back, harassed our group, took over half of our men. By the time we reached city, I was the highest ranking soldier left."
Your rice finished, your push your bowl aside and look at the man. There's something haunting in his eyes, and you feel a pang of compassion. You take your sake and two small cups and pour one for each of you; he gives you a grateful look and downs it in one gulp.
"What happened then?"
"Our lord wasn't happy we'd lost the fort, or the trinket, or that the captain had done some kind of damage to it. He told me I had to go back and retrieve his toy, and he gave me enough men for what he thought was a quick, "get there, lift some planks, grab the glowing thing and get out" mission."
Again, the sergeant looks at the ruins, but this time his gaze lingers specifically on the thick vines and twisting branches growing out of it.
"Except that didn't work. First thing, beams wouldn't let themselves move. Damned plants wrap around them, pull them down. Hack through them, more grow. Get them out of the way, others move into their place. Damned thing has a will of its own, 'cept it does not one thing but keep us from getting to the relic. Second thing? Bandits. We've had two attacks already, and I lost several men. And if I know anything from fighting these bastards for so long, they're gathering their strength for the final push, today, tomorrow, no later. We have to leave the place, except one that would be failing our mission, two they will kill half of us on the way home, again. So we're holed up in this useless heap of tents and sticks waiting for them to kill us all."
There's a moment of silence which you do not break, knowing where the man is going. Eventually, his face breaks into a nasty smile.
"'Cept now you're here, your majesty, and you got your armor with you. So how do you say we stand up to these bastards, with you on the front line - heck, with you being the front line - and take them to a dance they won't get up from?"
You finish your own drink, looking carefully at the camp around you.
"When you say 'in force,' what kind of force are we talking about?"
"A hundred men at least," the sergeant says dejectedly. "Most on foot, but some riders. Well-trained for bandits - but only for bandits."
You nod. Could you take on a hundred men? If your bunraku was at its peak, you would laugh at the very question. But you're tired, and Harvest has sustained battle damage and five days of marching. You might make it, but then again you might not. Looking at the camp, you try to get a better sense of the state of these troops. They're all tired and on edge, and several of them are wounded. If they assist you in the battle, some of them will certainly die, but your victory is assured. Once the bandits are routed, you'll have all the time you need to get the relic.
Then again, the point of this mission was never to defeat bandits. And you have no doubt your Falling Mountain could tear these ruins to pieces and fetch whatever broken relic is at their core, no matter what magic seeks to prevent it. And if the bandits try to harass Shidao's men while they're walking home with a bunraku for guardian, it's their funeral.
[ ]Tell the men to take shelter in the camp and face the bandits alone.
[ ]Tell the sergeant to gather his men and prepare to face the bandits with them.
[ ]Dig through the ruins for the relic so you can go directly home to Summer.
If nothing else, this might be a chance to find something valuable to bring to the dragon lord, so that he might hold you higher in his favor than some disheveled ronin. You turn your bunraku towards the glow and leave the river behind you.
You cross through patches of wild wheat, fertile land oddly defined. Years of war leveraging ever-more deadly weapons and intense spiritual power have plagued the heartlands of the Empire, creating these blackened warlands where vegetation struggles to grow. Maintaining the fertility of one's lands is one of the most vital task any lord must oversee. But here, there are pockets of green, fertile earth in which sprout healthy trees and wild weeds in the middle of an otherwise tainted earth, a decidedly unnatural sight.
The structure stands on a hilltop, at the ouskirts of the forested hills which mark the frontier of Summer's territory. At first, you think it's a castle; but as you get closer you realize it is more a temporary fort, a construct of wood and earthen ramparts quickly put together to hold territory before the city could afford the time and resources to create true fortifications. That fort failed in its task, evidently - it has crumbled, beams jutting out of earthen heaps like scattered bones in a scavenger's den. The blue-green glow seems to emanate from these ruins. As you try to determine how old that collapse is, you realize that there are vines and shrubs sprouting from the ruins, even though the place doesn't look that old.
In front of that destroyed fort is something more interesting: a small camp, made up of a handful of tents and a hastily-built wooden palisade. In the middle of that camp flies a tattered standard - three stalks of wheat in a sun at the zenith, the mon of Summer. Caution on your mind, you close the hatch of the bunraku, turning your world to an oppressive darkness. Slipping your right hand out of its glove, you lower the telescopic apparatus and rest your head against it; it shifts to accommodate the specific shape of your forehead, and the mirrors offer before you the landscape as seen through the eyes of your armor. You feel much taller suddenly, towering over the tall grass and scrawny, sparse trees that surround you.
As you approach there is a flurry of activity in the camp. People jump out of their tents, quickly grab bows and climb onto their palisade, holding their arrows towards you. You can make two dozen people facing you, with a few more behind them. One of them, wearing lamellar armor and a helmet sporting a coiled dragon, raises one hand and shouts at your approach: "Halt!"
You eye the ragtag group in front of you and politely stop, although not without one last earth-shaking step that makes the eyes of the soldiers wide with fear. Your bunraku is taller than their palisade, and their bows are small compound bows, not samurai's yomi. They may pierce your outer shell if the men wielding them are skilled, but will not damage any internal component of your armor - to put it simply, there is nothing these men can do to harm you.
"Greetings," you say, and your voice is carried through ingenious wind-tubes to come out of Harvest's maiden-mask, a howling tone like the wind on a battlefield. "I am Princess Tomoe, a masterless warrior and puppeteer. I come to you without ill intent."
At the word "princess," a few of the men look to each other, lowering their bows slightly. Their leader seems more interested in the "masterless" part, and frowns under his helm.
"What brings you here, ronin?"
"I have come to offer my services to the lord of Summer. From your standard, I wager you are his men?"
The man nods curtly. "I am Shidao, a sergeant of Summer and a servant of He-Who-Reads-The-Stars. But what brings you here?"
If the man could see your face you would affect a bemused look. "The place glows, sergeant. I was simply following the river towards Summer, but well, I could hardly let pass such an interesting sight on my way to a lord famed for his… Esoteric interests."
The sergeant scoffs, which draws your interest. Most men of his rank would be deferential to a noble - even a ronin, and especially one of imperial blood. Looking at his men more attentively, you can see that they look tired, their light armor is damaged in a few places, and two sport bandages from recent wounds. It seems exhaustion has worn out their sense of decorum.
"If you truly intend to offer yourself to the lord of Summer, ronin, then I formally request your assistance for me and my men."
You ponder this for a moment, then nod your armor's head. "Very well. But I hope we can discuss this assistance around a meal. I ran out of food days ago."
***
You sit in the middle of the camp, tearing through a bowl of unseasoned rice, your armor standing at attention nearby. There are no bows pointed at you now, although the men are still wary; Shidao is the only one sitting with you.
"This place was supposed to be the vanguard of Summer's expansion," he says looking at the nearby ruins. "Forts and watchtowers to secure the perimeter, and then some kind of divine contraption our lord had retrieved from a blighted crater to return the warlands to fertility. We were going to have a wider territory, more food, and we'd push back the bandits that had been scouring the edges of our domain." He scoffs. "Look around you how well that worked out."
"We thought the bandits were a few disparate groups, easy to eradicate once we had some fortifications in the region. Turns out, their reaction to seeing us put down a fort and towers was to retreat further away, confer between themselves, and unite as a single force under some kind of 'prince.' They came out of the hills two weeks ago and besieged the fort. We held fast for a week, but this place was never meant to endure for so long. On the seventh night they managed to set fire to the main building, and our captain…" He sighs. "I don't know what he did. He took the relic and did something with it and just like that, the fire went out. We cheered - and then the entire structure started groaning and shaking around us, and the captain made a pale face, and next thing we knew the castle was collapsing in on itself with trees growing out of the ground or sommat. Most of us managed to escape - not all. Captain never had a chance, he couldn't even move, not even let go of that dumb relic. And then we were stranded outside our castle, having only just routed the bandits, with only the clothes on our back and a spear for every two men. So we made our way back to Summer as fast as we could - not fast enough. Bandits came back, harassed our group, took over half of our men. By the time we reached city, I was the highest ranking soldier left."
Your rice finished, your push your bowl aside and look at the man. There's something haunting in his eyes, and you feel a pang of compassion. You take your sake and two small cups and pour one for each of you; he gives you a grateful look and downs it in one gulp.
"What happened then?"
"Our lord wasn't happy we'd lost the fort, or the trinket, or that the captain had done some kind of damage to it. He told me I had to go back and retrieve his toy, and he gave me enough men for what he thought was a quick, "get there, lift some planks, grab the glowing thing and get out" mission."
Again, the sergeant looks at the ruins, but this time his gaze lingers specifically on the thick vines and twisting branches growing out of it.
"Except that didn't work. First thing, beams wouldn't let themselves move. Damned plants wrap around them, pull them down. Hack through them, more grow. Get them out of the way, others move into their place. Damned thing has a will of its own, 'cept it does not one thing but keep us from getting to the relic. Second thing? Bandits. We've had two attacks already, and I lost several men. And if I know anything from fighting these bastards for so long, they're gathering their strength for the final push, today, tomorrow, no later. We have to leave the place, except one that would be failing our mission, two they will kill half of us on the way home, again. So we're holed up in this useless heap of tents and sticks waiting for them to kill us all."
There's a moment of silence which you do not break, knowing where the man is going. Eventually, his face breaks into a nasty smile.
"'Cept now you're here, your majesty, and you got your armor with you. So how do you say we stand up to these bastards, with you on the front line - heck, with you being the front line - and take them to a dance they won't get up from?"
You finish your own drink, looking carefully at the camp around you.
"When you say 'in force,' what kind of force are we talking about?"
"A hundred men at least," the sergeant says dejectedly. "Most on foot, but some riders. Well-trained for bandits - but only for bandits."
You nod. Could you take on a hundred men? If your bunraku was at its peak, you would laugh at the very question. But you're tired, and Harvest has sustained battle damage and five days of marching. You might make it, but then again you might not. Looking at the camp, you try to get a better sense of the state of these troops. They're all tired and on edge, and several of them are wounded. If they assist you in the battle, some of them will certainly die, but your victory is assured. Once the bandits are routed, you'll have all the time you need to get the relic.
Then again, the point of this mission was never to defeat bandits. And you have no doubt your Falling Mountain could tear these ruins to pieces and fetch whatever broken relic is at their core, no matter what magic seeks to prevent it. And if the bandits try to harass Shidao's men while they're walking home with a bunraku for guardian, it's their funeral.
[ ]Tell the men to take shelter in the camp and face the bandits alone.
[ ]Tell the sergeant to gather his men and prepare to face the bandits with them.
[ ]Dig through the ruins for the relic so you can go directly home to Summer.
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- Location
- Denmark
- Pronouns
- She/Her
This will result in a battle against a handsome rogue of a bandit prince.
This is objectively Good.
[X]Tell the sergeant to gather his men and prepare to face the bandits with them.
He highly likely expects to face them anyways, we'll probably want to face them alone but we just can't; we're still malnourished despite the food we just got, we lack proper rest, our Bunraku is not in it's prime and the bandits have several advantages. Fighting them with the Bunraku will probably still beat them, but it'll hurt us more than this, which can also have an awesome last stand for the men and the sergeant.
This is objectively Good.
[X]Tell the sergeant to gather his men and prepare to face the bandits with them.
He highly likely expects to face them anyways, we'll probably want to face them alone but we just can't; we're still malnourished despite the food we just got, we lack proper rest, our Bunraku is not in it's prime and the bandits have several advantages. Fighting them with the Bunraku will probably still beat them, but it'll hurt us more than this, which can also have an awesome last stand for the men and the sergeant.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Ouch. The dragon sounds like a FUN master. I am going to enjoy working with/for him so much! 
Well, they gave us food, so now we give them our service. Or so I learned from 'Seven Samurai'. Didn't work all that well for those guys, but then they didn't have a medieval power armor with them, did they?
A hundred men sounds good on the resume, and it is our specialty. The more the better.
[x]Tell the sergeant to gather his men and prepare to face the bandits with them.
No slackers. Everyone lifts their weight, and it is still a better outcome for them than an abject retreat while they are getting picked apart.
Well, they gave us food, so now we give them our service. Or so I learned from 'Seven Samurai'. Didn't work all that well for those guys, but then they didn't have a medieval power armor with them, did they?
A hundred men sounds good on the resume, and it is our specialty. The more the better.
[x]Tell the sergeant to gather his men and prepare to face the bandits with them.
No slackers. Everyone lifts their weight, and it is still a better outcome for them than an abject retreat while they are getting picked apart.
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- Location
- The Land of Many Bregrets
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X]Dig through the ruins for the relic so you can go directly home to Summer.
This seems the most prudent choice. It seems likely this is a choice between 'use Harvest to fight bandits' or 'use Harvest to recover the relic'; seems like it might be too damaged / worn out to do both.
Again, dragon isn't going to care about a hundred bandits.
This seems the most prudent choice. It seems likely this is a choice between 'use Harvest to fight bandits' or 'use Harvest to recover the relic'; seems like it might be too damaged / worn out to do both.
Again, dragon isn't going to care about a hundred bandits.
The bandits likely don't yet know that Harvest is here, and we can take advantage of that. Sure, we could just try to grab the artifact and run, but that still leaves us trying to defend the relic and the soldiers on a road back to the capital in a slow and damaged war machine. Similarly, we don't have the speed to chase down the bandits if they decline battle, and they're bandits. That again leaves us trying to chase shadows and fight defensively against a large and unknown number of hostiles.
I'd suggest keeping Harvest in reserve inside the ruined fort for the night, with the soldiers staging a mock-retreat inside to draw the bandits into close quarters where we can RIP AND TEAR to maximum effect. That'll give us a close-range fight against overconfident bandits, one we're likely to win handily, and a chance to likely mulch a few more during the retreat. Shattering their morale in that way and revealing such a nasty surprise will likely put them on the defensive, giving us and the soldiers a much safer trip the next day.
I'd suggest keeping Harvest in reserve inside the ruined fort for the night, with the soldiers staging a mock-retreat inside to draw the bandits into close quarters where we can RIP AND TEAR to maximum effect. That'll give us a close-range fight against overconfident bandits, one we're likely to win handily, and a chance to likely mulch a few more during the retreat. Shattering their morale in that way and revealing such a nasty surprise will likely put them on the defensive, giving us and the soldiers a much safer trip the next day.
- Location
- Brittany, France
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I haven't talked about write-ins before but generally I allow them unless they're a terrible idea. This is a workable plan and if you want to make it a plan that people vote for I'll allow it. (I do need the crossed box presentation for the tally program I'm using).
Dragonjackel
GOLDEN Judgement
- Location
- Gregory House
[X]Tell the sergeant to gather his men and prepare to face the bandits with them.
-[X] Have Harvest stashed in the ruined fort, then get the men to do a mock-retreat into it once the bandits arrive to draw them into an optimal killing field for Harvest to ambush or otherwise attack
Does this work for that plan, guys? I'll change my vote if a better version gets put up.
-[X] Have Harvest stashed in the ruined fort, then get the men to do a mock-retreat into it once the bandits arrive to draw them into an optimal killing field for Harvest to ambush or otherwise attack
Does this work for that plan, guys? I'll change my vote if a better version gets put up.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
That works, and I'll vote for it over a simple withdrawal because bandits need to be dealt with anyway (that was the original Captain's mission before he got slain and the Sergeant got his), but the way I see it, for the surprise to work we'd have to be separated with soldiers, and leave them to their own fight because we'll be springing our trap when it's 'optimal', likely letting some of the bandits through to pursue them.
I believe that will catch the bandits by surprise, alleviating some of the risks to ourselves and probably wiping out a large chunk of them before they even have a chance to rout, but will also result in more casualties among men. Depends on whether you think it'd be a worthy exchange.
I believe that will catch the bandits by surprise, alleviating some of the risks to ourselves and probably wiping out a large chunk of them before they even have a chance to rout, but will also result in more casualties among men. Depends on whether you think it'd be a worthy exchange.
Last edited:
- Location
- va
[x]Tell the sergeant to gather his men and prepare to face the bandits with them.
LinkOnScepter
The One who Strangles Concepts to death
- Location
- Interwebs
[X] Plan: Nuts
VIII. The Iron Raven
- Location
- Brittany, France
- Pronouns
- He/Him
VIII. The Iron Raven
Your decision is quickly taken.
"I will help you, sergeant. But you will need to follow my instructions."
A shadow passes over Shidao's face, but after a moment he bows his head.
"It will be as you ask, your majesty."
"Very well," you say, and pour each of you another cup. "First, you will need every man with a bow on the palisade to provide me support. Then…"
***
They come from the northwest, cresting the wooded hills.
They are a motley bunch, an army of fortune: deserters still wearing scaled armor and flattened conical hats, scrawny peasants in thick fur mantles, light outriders with their straight-bladed spears, even a battle-couple of the Old People whose long coats bore matched geometric patterns; disgracefully you spotted in the crowd the descending helms of Autumn's levies - deserters from your own city. They bear no uniform, each man owning only whatever he could find before joining the bandits, but each one of them wears a white scarf, some kind of symbol of unity. They walk across barren earth, a hundred and twenty men marching, over twenty riders at their side, keeping them in formation.
"You said a hundred men and a few riders," you hiss to Shidao. You are standing in front of the camp, Summer's soldiers anxiously waiting bows in hand. Your hands itch in the thick leather gloves, the anticipation of battle running amok in your body.
"I said at least a hundred men and some riders! What, is this too much for an imperial puppeteer?"
A scoff is your only answer. The bandits stop at the foot of the hill two hundred yards away, and one of their horsemen breaks from the rank to cover half the remaining distance. For a moment you stare silently, a mountain of unmoving steel, then you take three steps forward, the butt of your spear hitting the ground with a tremor at each one.
The man is no mere light rider, you realize as you close in. His armor is heavier than that of the other bandits, lacquered leather with a few iron plates, and he wears a half-cloak of black feathers and an iron mask in the shape of a crow with its beak. At his waist hang two swords, long and short, a daisho. This is no mere bandit, but a samurai - and one bearing no standard. A ronin like you.
The man looks up at you, a speck in the front of your steel giant. Or perhaps it would be unfair to say that - on his horse he reaches halfway up your armor's chest. You look down, the maiden's face smiling indifferently, but the man does not flinch.
"I am Iron Raven of the Seven Mendicant Blades, servant of the Pauper Prince," he says in a booming voice. "I have been ordered to grant you a mercy: take these men, leave the fort, and you will not be harmed."
There is only silence.
After a moment, the ronin spurs his horse a foot forward. "I said-"
"You are nobody," comes the voice of Harvest, loud enough to spread to the camp and the bandits both, "member of no true order, servant of a glorified highwayman. I am Princess Tomoe, mistress of Hope for the Harvest, and this is my counter-offer: throw your two blades to the ground as a sign of your dishonor and turn back with your troops, or be that harvest."
"One bunraku cannot defeat a hundred and fifty warriors," Iron Raven says contemptously.
"That may well be, but I see no warriors before me."
He looks at you a moment longer, then turns his horse around. "Suit yourself," he says, before trotting back to his lines.
You know what comes next. As the bandits start marching again, you raise your nagina and hold it in a two-handed guard. With overwhelming numbers but an enemy split between one close-range bunraku and a few men behind fortifications, the opposing force will split in two: one group will attempt to pin you down while the other assaults the camp. If they can overwhelm and kill its defenders, they are then free to retreat and harass you at range until you retreat or exhaust yourself and die.
First come the shields. Long planks of wood, hastily bolted together - likely ripped from ruined houses somewhere in the warlands. These are not tools that can be wielded in battle, they only serve to shield the approach from archers. Holding them before them and above their heads, a hundred men advance against you like a wooden tide, a walking fortress. You let them come.
The first volley comes from your side, Shidao's men firing over your shoulders; their arrows strike the planks and the bandits flinch, but none fall. The second volley is an answer, coming from a hundred yards, too far for you to punish it; the bandits lower their shields to fire then quickly bring them up again. The distance and the angle protects most of Shidao's men, but you hear a few screams, whether of fear or pain you cannot tell. A dozen of arrows bounce against you; a few get stuck in your outer shell to no effect. At fifty yards, Shidao's men fire again, and this time find a handful of weakened spots in the formation. A few bandits scream and falter, holes in the fortress. They answer, and more of Summer's men are struck.
The last exchange comes at thirty yards, with more men struck on both sides. That is when the bandits begin to split in two, and the outriders spur their horses behind them. The ragtag horde drops their shields, taking their spears in both hands - curved naginatas and straight yari, differing lengths with little sense of standardization - and charge screaming.
At ten yards they are in your engagement range. You push your foot forward with a twist of your fingers and your Falling Mountain shifts from perfect stillness to sudden motion with the jarring, broken motion of a puppet. Faster than any of them could have imagined you close half the distance and lunge forward, a thrusting blow that sweeps right, and three men fall. The first rank starts in shock, but there are dozen more pushing behind them and they have no choice but to keep charging; you bring your spear back and sweep forward. Before their polearms can even touch your armor, five fur-clad peasants die in a spray of blood, staining their comrades. The men panic; to their credit - perhaps out of fear of what their masters do to those who fail - their fear only spurs them forward, gracelessly, their form breaking. Spears rake against your armor: shallow cuts on leather, long scratches on wood, harmless pings on steel. The bandits spread out, trying to surround you; you shift your foot back, swing your spear around and catch two deserters with a hooking blow. The rest try to push you with their spears, to push you off-balance - someone trained them in basic bunraku-fighting skills, it appears. You take two steps back and a defensive stance, your haft pushing back a dozen spears - then you bring it back and shatter three hafts.
At this moment you feel a blunt shock, three weak punches at once, and your surprise opens you to a lucky bandit who slices at your inner leg, damaging a strap. You reward him by laying him low with a blow of your haft, then feel three more impacts from a different direction. With surprise you see long shafts protruding out of your armor, and scan the battlefield beyond the rabble. Iron Raven is riding, two men by his side, and each of them is wielding a samurai's greatbow, taller than they are. They fire from horseback, three shots at once each time; you raise your hand in a parry and one arrow sticks in your gauntlet, but one other hits your chest - harmless - and the third one hits your shoulder. All of a sudden, you feel Harvest's left arm sag a little. One of the strings is not responding anymore.
"Enough of this," you spit between gritted teeth. You lift one foot and slam it into the ground, shaking the ground, and the first rank of bandits wavers; you bring your spear around, swing it in a whirlwind motion that aims to strike fear in the heart of unmotivated brigands, then you perform the wheat harvest cut. One blow slices off half a dozen spear hafts, you move one step against the enemy and the second blow brings down seven men in a crimson wave. Then in a reckless move characteristic of puppeteers, your right hand lets go off the naginata, you lean and catch a terrified soldier, and with all of Harvest's strength you hurl it at the three riders. The human projectile hits one of the bowmen like a meteor, and the other two scatter. The formation arrayed against you starts to break down, fear a more surefire weapon than even your spear. Half of them are dead, wounded or disarmed, and the rest start pulling back. You spare a look at your side; the second group is busy climbing the wooden palisade of Shidao's camp, being pushed back by spears. If you can rout your own enemies -
Then Iron Raven, his greatbow latched to his saddle and now holding his katana, comes around from your left flank. The twenty light riders who had been circling the edge of the fight fall in behind him and a thunder of hooves comes barrelling in on you. You take a wide-legged stance, blade close to the ground, and when the ronin reaches you you thrust to unhorse him; but the man is more experienced than you'd given him credit for. He leans into the saddle, makes an abrupt shift that only a veteran horseman could manage, and your blade goes wide. Then his cohort swarms you, two dozen spearmen with the force of their mounts behind their blows. There is a cascade of sparks, steel on steel, and you almost stumble. Glancing blows cut leather straps, weakening your armor. Dent after dent riddles your chestpiece. Two strings in your right leg give out.
You scream fury and bring your naginata down, an executioner's blow in the middle of the column. Two horse and their riders fall, broken in half. You sweep along the ground in an ascending blow and send three more down, mounts broken and falling on their riders. Before you can strike a third time the horsemen have scattered, dispering across the battlefield, but the harm is done; they have proven you weak and given the footmen time to regroup. The bandits fall back into formation and close in on you.
Distantly you hear Shidao scream orders. He is on the palisade, fighting hand to hand with scrambling bandits.
Iron Raven looks at you from behind his ranks, beaked mask inscrutable. His riders are slowly gathering for a second pass.
You need a strategy.
[ ]Defensive. Fall back against the palisade, remove some pressure from the soldiers to face the bandits as one united front against another.
[ ]Offensive. Meet the footmen head-on and carve through their ranks. If you rout them before the riders come back, you will be able to break their charge.
[ ]Focused. Break through the footmen's ranks and go straight for Iron Raven. If you can reach him and kill him before he evades you, all three formations will break.
Your decision is quickly taken.
"I will help you, sergeant. But you will need to follow my instructions."
A shadow passes over Shidao's face, but after a moment he bows his head.
"It will be as you ask, your majesty."
"Very well," you say, and pour each of you another cup. "First, you will need every man with a bow on the palisade to provide me support. Then…"
***
They come from the northwest, cresting the wooded hills.
They are a motley bunch, an army of fortune: deserters still wearing scaled armor and flattened conical hats, scrawny peasants in thick fur mantles, light outriders with their straight-bladed spears, even a battle-couple of the Old People whose long coats bore matched geometric patterns; disgracefully you spotted in the crowd the descending helms of Autumn's levies - deserters from your own city. They bear no uniform, each man owning only whatever he could find before joining the bandits, but each one of them wears a white scarf, some kind of symbol of unity. They walk across barren earth, a hundred and twenty men marching, over twenty riders at their side, keeping them in formation.
"You said a hundred men and a few riders," you hiss to Shidao. You are standing in front of the camp, Summer's soldiers anxiously waiting bows in hand. Your hands itch in the thick leather gloves, the anticipation of battle running amok in your body.
"I said at least a hundred men and some riders! What, is this too much for an imperial puppeteer?"
A scoff is your only answer. The bandits stop at the foot of the hill two hundred yards away, and one of their horsemen breaks from the rank to cover half the remaining distance. For a moment you stare silently, a mountain of unmoving steel, then you take three steps forward, the butt of your spear hitting the ground with a tremor at each one.
The man is no mere light rider, you realize as you close in. His armor is heavier than that of the other bandits, lacquered leather with a few iron plates, and he wears a half-cloak of black feathers and an iron mask in the shape of a crow with its beak. At his waist hang two swords, long and short, a daisho. This is no mere bandit, but a samurai - and one bearing no standard. A ronin like you.
The man looks up at you, a speck in the front of your steel giant. Or perhaps it would be unfair to say that - on his horse he reaches halfway up your armor's chest. You look down, the maiden's face smiling indifferently, but the man does not flinch.
"I am Iron Raven of the Seven Mendicant Blades, servant of the Pauper Prince," he says in a booming voice. "I have been ordered to grant you a mercy: take these men, leave the fort, and you will not be harmed."
There is only silence.
After a moment, the ronin spurs his horse a foot forward. "I said-"
"You are nobody," comes the voice of Harvest, loud enough to spread to the camp and the bandits both, "member of no true order, servant of a glorified highwayman. I am Princess Tomoe, mistress of Hope for the Harvest, and this is my counter-offer: throw your two blades to the ground as a sign of your dishonor and turn back with your troops, or be that harvest."
"One bunraku cannot defeat a hundred and fifty warriors," Iron Raven says contemptously.
"That may well be, but I see no warriors before me."
He looks at you a moment longer, then turns his horse around. "Suit yourself," he says, before trotting back to his lines.
You know what comes next. As the bandits start marching again, you raise your nagina and hold it in a two-handed guard. With overwhelming numbers but an enemy split between one close-range bunraku and a few men behind fortifications, the opposing force will split in two: one group will attempt to pin you down while the other assaults the camp. If they can overwhelm and kill its defenders, they are then free to retreat and harass you at range until you retreat or exhaust yourself and die.
First come the shields. Long planks of wood, hastily bolted together - likely ripped from ruined houses somewhere in the warlands. These are not tools that can be wielded in battle, they only serve to shield the approach from archers. Holding them before them and above their heads, a hundred men advance against you like a wooden tide, a walking fortress. You let them come.
The first volley comes from your side, Shidao's men firing over your shoulders; their arrows strike the planks and the bandits flinch, but none fall. The second volley is an answer, coming from a hundred yards, too far for you to punish it; the bandits lower their shields to fire then quickly bring them up again. The distance and the angle protects most of Shidao's men, but you hear a few screams, whether of fear or pain you cannot tell. A dozen of arrows bounce against you; a few get stuck in your outer shell to no effect. At fifty yards, Shidao's men fire again, and this time find a handful of weakened spots in the formation. A few bandits scream and falter, holes in the fortress. They answer, and more of Summer's men are struck.
The last exchange comes at thirty yards, with more men struck on both sides. That is when the bandits begin to split in two, and the outriders spur their horses behind them. The ragtag horde drops their shields, taking their spears in both hands - curved naginatas and straight yari, differing lengths with little sense of standardization - and charge screaming.
At ten yards they are in your engagement range. You push your foot forward with a twist of your fingers and your Falling Mountain shifts from perfect stillness to sudden motion with the jarring, broken motion of a puppet. Faster than any of them could have imagined you close half the distance and lunge forward, a thrusting blow that sweeps right, and three men fall. The first rank starts in shock, but there are dozen more pushing behind them and they have no choice but to keep charging; you bring your spear back and sweep forward. Before their polearms can even touch your armor, five fur-clad peasants die in a spray of blood, staining their comrades. The men panic; to their credit - perhaps out of fear of what their masters do to those who fail - their fear only spurs them forward, gracelessly, their form breaking. Spears rake against your armor: shallow cuts on leather, long scratches on wood, harmless pings on steel. The bandits spread out, trying to surround you; you shift your foot back, swing your spear around and catch two deserters with a hooking blow. The rest try to push you with their spears, to push you off-balance - someone trained them in basic bunraku-fighting skills, it appears. You take two steps back and a defensive stance, your haft pushing back a dozen spears - then you bring it back and shatter three hafts.
At this moment you feel a blunt shock, three weak punches at once, and your surprise opens you to a lucky bandit who slices at your inner leg, damaging a strap. You reward him by laying him low with a blow of your haft, then feel three more impacts from a different direction. With surprise you see long shafts protruding out of your armor, and scan the battlefield beyond the rabble. Iron Raven is riding, two men by his side, and each of them is wielding a samurai's greatbow, taller than they are. They fire from horseback, three shots at once each time; you raise your hand in a parry and one arrow sticks in your gauntlet, but one other hits your chest - harmless - and the third one hits your shoulder. All of a sudden, you feel Harvest's left arm sag a little. One of the strings is not responding anymore.
"Enough of this," you spit between gritted teeth. You lift one foot and slam it into the ground, shaking the ground, and the first rank of bandits wavers; you bring your spear around, swing it in a whirlwind motion that aims to strike fear in the heart of unmotivated brigands, then you perform the wheat harvest cut. One blow slices off half a dozen spear hafts, you move one step against the enemy and the second blow brings down seven men in a crimson wave. Then in a reckless move characteristic of puppeteers, your right hand lets go off the naginata, you lean and catch a terrified soldier, and with all of Harvest's strength you hurl it at the three riders. The human projectile hits one of the bowmen like a meteor, and the other two scatter. The formation arrayed against you starts to break down, fear a more surefire weapon than even your spear. Half of them are dead, wounded or disarmed, and the rest start pulling back. You spare a look at your side; the second group is busy climbing the wooden palisade of Shidao's camp, being pushed back by spears. If you can rout your own enemies -
Then Iron Raven, his greatbow latched to his saddle and now holding his katana, comes around from your left flank. The twenty light riders who had been circling the edge of the fight fall in behind him and a thunder of hooves comes barrelling in on you. You take a wide-legged stance, blade close to the ground, and when the ronin reaches you you thrust to unhorse him; but the man is more experienced than you'd given him credit for. He leans into the saddle, makes an abrupt shift that only a veteran horseman could manage, and your blade goes wide. Then his cohort swarms you, two dozen spearmen with the force of their mounts behind their blows. There is a cascade of sparks, steel on steel, and you almost stumble. Glancing blows cut leather straps, weakening your armor. Dent after dent riddles your chestpiece. Two strings in your right leg give out.
You scream fury and bring your naginata down, an executioner's blow in the middle of the column. Two horse and their riders fall, broken in half. You sweep along the ground in an ascending blow and send three more down, mounts broken and falling on their riders. Before you can strike a third time the horsemen have scattered, dispering across the battlefield, but the harm is done; they have proven you weak and given the footmen time to regroup. The bandits fall back into formation and close in on you.
Distantly you hear Shidao scream orders. He is on the palisade, fighting hand to hand with scrambling bandits.
Iron Raven looks at you from behind his ranks, beaked mask inscrutable. His riders are slowly gathering for a second pass.
You need a strategy.
[ ]Defensive. Fall back against the palisade, remove some pressure from the soldiers to face the bandits as one united front against another.
[ ]Offensive. Meet the footmen head-on and carve through their ranks. If you rout them before the riders come back, you will be able to break their charge.
[ ]Focused. Break through the footmen's ranks and go straight for Iron Raven. If you can reach him and kill him before he evades you, all three formations will break.
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- Location
- St. Petersburg
We are not running after a horse-rider in our Bunraku, it's not made for that. Fall back to where they can't surround you and where their mobility is constrained by natural defenses, free your men, then have them aid you in picking the rest of the troops that you can't reach. Maybe someone even lands a lucky shot on Iron Raven.
[x]Defensive. Fall back against the palisade, remove some pressure from the soldiers to face the bandits as one united front against another.
[x]Defensive. Fall back against the palisade, remove some pressure from the soldiers to face the bandits as one united front against another.
LinkOnScepter
The One who Strangles Concepts to death
- Location
- Interwebs
[x]Defensive. Fall back against the palisade, remove some pressure from the soldiers to face the bandits as one united front against another.