u/Silvertree99

SAILS! SAILS ON THE HORIZON!! shouts the watchman leaning over the railing of the watchtower trying to get the attention of his comrades below.

The Sargent of the guard springs to his feet, get ervine to the top! his eyes are the sharpest see if he can spot what colors they're flying.

As a young man drops the dice he was holding and sprints up the steps the Sargent turns to the remaining men, it's been a long time since weve had visitors, arm yourself we know not who comes or their intentions.

Two hours later the first of the lions cross the gangplank and step foot back on Rutland for the first time in years. Though they don't look the same as before. Leaner, harder, worn by not just time but turmoil, the civil war in elmhhirm has ended, the continent united once more but it had left scars on all that were involved in its chaos. Most scars deeper than physical.

LINES! FROM INSPECTION LINES!! an armoured captain yells from atop his steed, the men had been ashore for little over an hour when the order came. They formed ranks and columns orderly and neat, much more rigid than the soldiers who had left these shores some time ago.

A figure walked out from the watchtower, his meeting with the pyrantosk guard complete. He faced the troops, his light features Rutland had known for so long replaced by a harsh look. Captain he said rasing his tone without looking in the direction of the man he spoke to, we march back to our old capital at the break of dawn, have the men bed down and rest while they can we have plenty to do in these upcoming days to prepare for the main host. He turns walking away with a risk pace while the captain bows his head answering with "yes my king" Broadwans grimaces at the title while walking away. He kneels down into the sand of pyrantosks shores, letting a handful of it run through his fingers. "I've missed you old friend he whispers to the ground, tell me....what have I missed since I've been gone?"

Much has changed about them but the lions of Elmhhirm have returned

Current forces

64 heavy armoured infantry

2 captains

2 standard bearers

With many more arriving on the next ships ;)

The wait was over the skeletal army had received their reinforcements, seige machines included and had begun their attack. Towers rolled towards the gate, catapults hurled boulders into the keep and ladders moved towards the walls. Hopelessly outnumbered king rollo watched as thousands of skeletons marched out of their encampments and into the open fields before him. Aid had not come, there was no chance of victory here, he had sent away those that had come to his side so that they would not be lost as well. The skeletons had honored their word and let the men of yenvar leave peacefully. But now, all that was left laying between the realm of men and undead was death.

The first seige towers struck just after midnight, though the fires throughout the city kept the battle illuminated. Rollo watched from above as the first level of the city became a battlefield. Part of him desired to be in the fray with his men but he knew his skills were best put to use watching the fight unfold and directing it from somewhere he could see the larger picture. 

Skeletons poured from the gate the moment it was breached, the men of anvard stood their ground valiantly but the numbers were far to great and one by one they fell. First the gate, the. The courtyard then into the rest of the first level. Wave after wave flung themselves into the fight pressing the soldiers further and further back into their fortress.

The second city level fell faster than the first, blood and bones littering the streets, and the third level faster than all. 

The fourth however the men of the west rallied, pushing back against the unending forces of attackers. They held their ground there for several hours before the bone golems broke their ranks smashing dozens of men before being brought down and hacked apart. Though they were brought down the lines had been broken and exploited. And methodically the fourth level was cleared of any living. 

Another stand was attempted at the sixth level but the remaining men were to few and saw nothing but death in front of them. 

High king rollo ruler of the previous anvardian empire looked out upon his city and saw naught but death. There was no winning there was no escape. Death was here and so he would face it.

The gate to the seventh level of the city was smashed down with little resistance the first skeleton through the breach found itself staring at the tip of a lance, at the other end sat king rollo. FORWARD! he yelled. And the remaining knights of anvard, mounted rode down through each level and through the narrow streets, the skeletons having nowhere to go were trampled. One by one the knights pushed through the levels of the city their momentum growing as they went until they reached the main gate at the first level. 

One last ride! Onwards for anvard!! Rollos men warcries sounded through the field as they began cutting through the undead. What began as a last charge soon turned into hope, not of victory there were far to many skeletons for that to ever happen but of breaking through to live another day. They had broken through nearly three quarters of the ranks before the end stood in sight freedom, freedom to live, to breath, to see their kin once more. When their momentum was shattered by an immense dragon dropping down in their path crushing several of rollos riders as it landed it snatched another off its horse with a bite. Spitting his broken body to the ground. 

Thora slid off the great beasts back and hit the ground standing, an axe in one hand a blade in the other. Apologies for interrupting your attempt....my king she says giving a mocking half bow. But I must protest you leaving so early. Come join me let us test the strength of our blades. One of rollos knights charged forward at her but was swatted away into the sea of skeletons that had now formed a large circle around them. None of that said Thora, just you and me.

Rollo dropped his lance, dropped to the ground and drew his sword. He raised it ready to strike, Thora gave a thin wry smile right before leaping forward feinting with her blade, when rollo went to block it she spun mid air slamming her axe into his helm causing it to crack. It however did not pierce through but remained lodged. She yanked it towards herself sending rollo sprawling to his feet in front of her. She kicked his shoulder rolling him over and away from her. STAND, she commanded I will not kill a man on the ground like a dog. He stood pushing his helm off his head and finding his blade once more. He was dazed from the blow but stood ready and determined. Thora again charged forward striking with one blade, and then the other a furry of blows the king could not keep up with, they kept increasing in strength he barely had the time to parry before the next blow came, this is for my people she cried as she struck out, and this is for the Wolfpack, another strike and this is for the arrogance you've displayed before this whole realm one final strike broke his blade, and this is for any Viking that has ever died under your needless orders your own men or not Thora said in a low hiss. And in one fell swoop struck his head from his body.

She turned to the remaining knights, giving them one word RUN. 

They had no need of being told twice they rode out through a path cleared of skeletons. Thora turned to the same skeletons and yelled out to them. Do not harm them let them tell the world what has happened here today. Let the world know wrymgaurd will not be brought to heel by any kings or ......self declared emperors 

A message is put in the hands of every lord in Rutland.

The seafarers guild has came into possession of a certain man. His name? Lord valdek. We recognize that there are many that are interested in his current predicament of vulnerability. Whether to save him from it or use it against him.

Well we would like to provide an opportunity. Meet us in the south of the Nerethon sea and an auction will be conducted for possession of him. Do not attempt to retrieve him without your proper payment or there will most assuredly be consequences. You will bring no more than 1 ship with 25 sailors. Any more will be seen as an act of aggression and we will fall back.

Lord valdeks price will begin at 4 irons, the bidding begins now

OOC final bid will be at 1:34 PM EST 24 hours from now.

222 men formed the blockade of orsca, Manning 7 ships.

Sturgia and the dragon lords held the coast from any escape.

Trapped from leaving the coastal waters 15 anvardian ships lay anchored, 324 men aboard, soldiers of both anvard and lionne. Outside the blockade sails 4 ships bearing the flags of lionne manned by 66 warriors.

The massive anvardian flagships led two rows as they hoisted anchors and headed towards the sturgian fleet. Men scrambled around the deck as they prepared boarding parties. The captain barking orders, his voice was cut off short when the first wave of arrows fell. Nearly 100 archers stood on the blockading fleets decks preparing a second volley.

Get our archers up, sails at full, close the gap! The command came from valdek taking charge of one of the anvardian ships he was on. We will close in and destroy the enemy. Boarding parties under the deck until we get close!

A second volley struck. Ending the lives of multiple men. The flagships took the brunt of the damage but massive as they were it affected them little. Tearing the sails but not enough to make a noticeable difference in their speed. The anvardian archers released a volley of their own targeting sturgias ship. The distance was nearly closed the gap diminishing at a rapid pace, one last volley from anvard flew. Valdek watched as an arrow flew past his shoulder and buried itself into the man behind him. The near death experience set his adrenaline afire boarding parties! To the deck!

The ships rocked as they came alongside each other the two flagships sandwiching sturgias. Soldiers poured over the rails dozens at a time fighting for every inch they took. Men on both sides fell but the blockading forces were too small to withstand the onslaught. For a moment they seemed like they would keep control of their ship as their hwachas fired into the boarding parties and wenseclause himself threw himself into the thickest of the fighting forcing the enemy back. But valdek would not let their momentum be lost. He threw himself into the fray, fighting his way through the clashing armies welding his sword as an extension of himself. Dispatching the men around him with eyes never breaking their lock on the sturgian prince. Two heavily armored knights stood in his way blocking his advance. For a moment he stood and braced against their blows, a never ending onslaught of strikes. Until an opening formed he ducked under the arm of one slitting through the gap in his armour under his shoulder. Spun around behind them and lopped of the head of the other catching it midair by the plume and smashing it into the first knights skull knocking him to the floors.

He stood straight fury shining in his eyes and spun on his heel determined to make his way to wenseclause only to find the boot of the man he looked for aimed for his chest. Valdek struck by the kick stumbled backwards hit the rails and tumbled into the sea hitting the water hard.

Elsewhere the smaller anvardian ships had attacked the remaining vessels. Several of the smallest blockade breakers had been lost already the landing craft not meant for naval battle had all been sent to the bottom along with a few more but on they pushed with superior numbers of ships and men. Forcing the dragons back until they had one ship remaining. The captain looked out seeing the great sturgian ship slowly listing in the water already sitting low. The battle was over, nothing now could be done. He turned with what remained and fled.

Does anvard want to give chase or scour the water for survivors. Enemies or their own

The forces of salvyn enter orsca prepared for a bloody fight, only to find it has been abandoned. After scouring the land for signs of resistance the scouts return with news of ships sailing away from, laden with troops. The land has been abandoned and the undead now take control

The plan was daring, bold. But with so few men the blockade of the sturgian coast would never hold. The captain knew this but refused to waver. For king and country!

It was not long before they had established the blockade when new sails appeared with the unmistakable dark red of the horde. Following closely behind him sailed several wrymgaurd boats. The incoming ships fanned out creating a crescent, half encircling the anvardian forces.

All at once bolts flew from each of the southern ships, DOWN! The dwarf captain called sprawling to the deck. Each and every projectile passed overhead wounding not a single soul, but instead shredding the sails and leaving them dead in the water. The horde circled reloading their weapons. While anvard returned a volley. The dwarfs found their mark on the enemy ships but could not compete with the numbers stacked against them. One by one the ships were torn apart by enemy artillery until just one remained barely afloat. Several men left alive but badly wounded.

A horde ship pulled alongside them and orcs rushed aboard choosing to feast upon the fallen closest to them. The anvardian dwarf captain in one final act of defiance set a cannon off not towards the orcs but into the hull of the ship. Sinking it but taking the orcs on board down with it as well.

​

Smoke rolled across the valleys of Draggenland as the banners of the Knights of gruner bar advanced beneath a grey sky.

Waiting for them stood the last warriors of the Dragonborn Clan.

They were few. Barely more than a warband. But each Dragonborn towered above ordinary men, their scaled bodies clad in bronze and iron, their reptilian eyes burning with ancient fury.

Their chieftain stepped forward, planting his great spear into the earth.

"This land belongs to dragons."

No answer came. Only the lowering of lances.

Then … The Hart banners charged. The first impact shattered shields and splintered ashwood shafts. A Dragonborn seized a knight by the throat and hurled him from his saddle. Another crushed a horse's skull with a single swing of his warhammer.

For a moment...

The line of the Hart bent. But it did not break. The knights closed ranks. Spears pinned the Dragonborn in place. Swords found the gaps beneath their scales. Crossbow bolts rained from the ridges, striking eyes, necks, and joints.

One by one...

The mighty Dragonborn fell. Each demanded the lives of several knights before finally collapsing.

Their chieftain fought until the very end, roaring like a wounded dragon as he carved a path through the enemy. At last, surrounded on every side, he planted his broken spear into the blood-soaked earth.

"I die..."

"...but dragons never kneel."

The knights answered not with words...

...but with steel.

When the battle ended, silence returned to Draggenland. No Dragonborn remained standing. Their halls were empty. Their standards cast down. Their ancient fires extinguished.

The Dragonborn Clan had fallen.

The banners of the Knights of the Hart were raised above the conquered stronghold as the herald proclaimed:

"Let it be known throughout Rutland: Draggenland now belongs to the Knights of the Hart. The Dragonborn Clan has passed into history."

Written by patrick-hill-one

Reviewed and approved by all MODs

High king rollo stood at the top of his keep breathing in  the early morning air, the sun had not yet risen. It had been months now that the seige had gone on. Anvards food supply was running low but rationing it had helped them survive so far. The great doors stood scorched and marked with the blades of the enemy yet they held firm. Unbroken. The one saving grace of anvard was the skeletons had brought no siege engines with them. Casualties had been high in the Initial attack arrows flying from the walls into the attackers and back. But after some time with neither side gaining an advantage the armies pulled back the assault slowed. The stone golems would occasionally heave stone boulders at the castle yet the high walls prevented most of the damage. 

More than anything boredom had set in on both sides as they waited for a change in the stagnant situation. Men and skeletons wandered aimlessly while off duty waiting for their shift at watch. There had been a surge in activity when the secret passage anvard had been using was discovered. But the tunnel leading in was to narrow and easily defended, the skeletons had been pushed back from it but kept the entrance surrounded. The siege was quickly turning into a stalemate with neither side having what was necessary to break the other. 

Another moment of interest had occurred when anvard had sallied out from their keep in the middle of the night in a surprise counter attack, catching the skeletons by surprise. Many of them were cut down bones clattering to the ground but the undead rallied after some time and forced the knights back to their keep. The skeletons sentries from that point on were doubled as well as archers posted to eliminate any attempts of communication flying in or out of the castle via bird. Though the small fast moving targets were easy to miss. 

King rollo let out a breath he had been holding while reviewing the last few months in his head. A change was needed before the eventual starvation set in. Or worse his soldiers lost their morale and turned against him, he was grateful for their unwavering loyalty so far. As those thoughts crossed his mind, horns sounded, over the horizon as dawn broke the silhouette of an army could be seen marching towards the keep. His heart dropped, foes? Friends? He could not make out the banners from here. Who had joined the fight and would it be enough to turn the tides for either side? 

At the same time a skeleton rode forward scroll in hand, a voice emenated through it but not necessarily from it. The work of black magic no doubt thought king rollo. "Hail Lord of anvard! You are given an option, in an attempt to spare the lives of your men we offer you the chance to leave peacefully. You will leave therican but we will pursue you no further. Spare your men high king of anvard and spare yourself from the fate that currently encircles you! We offer you not only the chance to continue life but we offer in exchange the prisoners we took in vyrin lakes. Let us separate our nations by an entire ocean and once again know the taste of peace. 

Please provide a picture of your Lego food to determine how long you have before it runs out and your soldiers begin to starve.

Anyone from either side are able and welcome to join the fight for the next 24 hours. Either joining the sieging skeleton army or attacking it in support of anvard

And lastly you have the choice to leave peacefully from therican granted by the skeleton queen, with safe passage guaranteed. (Confirmed by them)

Count Joran overlooked the courtyard from inside the castle keep, his arm bound tightly to his side with fresh bandages. Looking out over the empty fortress it was nye on impossible to recall it just days ago littered with bodies and rubble, blood soaking through the cobblestone roads and splattered over the walls. His mind recalled the bloodshed a little to well for his taste. He had tried not to let his mind dwell there but it always manaito find its way to the most brutal of conflicts. He closed his eyes and the visions inside his head grew more present

**********

Arrows poured down from the keep, men feel left and right, burning oil sent men to a horrific death, the tunnel the strike teams had infiltrated through had collapsed fully after they had attempted to push through and now the main keep door was the only way in. Their seige engines would not pass the main gate, however he had instructed his engineers deconstruct some of the towers in an attempt to make ladders. The few ladder they already possessed had been lashed together gaining enough height to reCh the top of the keep. But it was to few and every man that head scaled them so far had died after reaching the top. The mens morale was low and he had not the hart to continue sending them to their death. 

**********

Count Joran slipped back into the present hearing a page was approaching, my Lord this was sent to you it belonged to Lord falcon, he pulled out a dagger sheathed in pure silver. It's handle inlaid with large, dark emeralds. He pulled the blade from its cover and his mind flashed back to the previous days battle. 

**********

They had just broken through the gate, the ladders having proven to be nearly useless. Count Joran in an attempt to rally his men had led the charge through the breach. They had been met with fierce fighting, only the strongest of the defending falcons remained. Yet on into the keep they had pushed. Through every room every hallway. Being ambushed frequently from unseen hiding places. And then to the throne room, a wall of bodies lay blocking the entrance, ones from both sides, the falcons final attempt at a defense. No more than 30 remained. Not willing to waste any more time count Joran had lowered his head and charged the group followed by his knights. He was met with a wall of pikes and from the side of his eyes he saw several of his own men skewered on said pikes. He had blocked one with his shield and swept another out of the way with his sword yet a third had caught him just below the shoulder. Leaving his shield arm limp and useless. The opening was exposed for seconds before it was taken advantage of several weapons extended towards the count but found themselves lodged in the body of a young man, he fell away eyes rolling to the back of his head gasping for his final breaths. A young knight who had thrown himself forward to sheild his lord. Blood spilled from the corners of his mouth, and for a second he gained a moment of clarity, reaching towards his lord with one feeble outstretched hand before an axe was brought down through the middle of his skull. 

**********

Count Joran opened his eyes to the page shaking him looking pale, sir! Sir! Gasped the young boy. His visions having left him count Joran looked around and realized he was on the floor, tears rolling down his cheeks and his body trembled uncontrollably. His eyes glanced up to the terrified page, upon regaining his breath he stood and placed a hand on the shoulder of the boy, you will speak of this to no one he said to me stern. The boy nodded fervently. Count Joran softened his tone, and handed the dagger back to the page, I have no wish for this have the smiths melt it down.

His eyes flashed to the dagger one last time as the page left through the doorway

++++++++++

He was once again transported back in time too two days ago, he had been pulled away from the fight after being injured, but the throne room had been taken shortly after. Freshly bandaged he was brought to the throne room where Lord falcon stood his two remaining soldiers by his side though he had told them to stand down. Their was no longer a possible defense. Before him knelt a figure hair falling in front of their face blood soaking their body making it impossible to see their features. 

Lord falcon let out a wry smile, my revenge may not be in full but no that in turn replacing me with another king the north shall have to replace one of their own. And with those words he pulled a dagger from his belt, pure silver but for a green emerald embeded in its hilt. And slit the throat of the man before him. 

OOC: count Joran has full authority over what to do with Lord falcon and his two remaining soldiers 

And one ruler in the north must die, you must chose inbetween yourselves 

Braccenfoot is taken by the new reigning falcons 

And final note count Joran now has PTSD 

The horde sails into allor ready for a brutal fight to find nothing but the smoldering remains of lionne's previous city. In their rush several civilians had been left behind as well as an amount of the treasury.

The horde takes allor and 5 irons

As mentioned when your capital falls you will lose a part of your treasury. Currently the rate is 10% with a hard cap of no more than 5 Marks

As there was no previous mention of leaving or moving anything that rule stands for this scenario.

The ten anvardian men sit holed up in their tower. They know they face a certain death but unlike the knights of vyrin lakes these men are lost to their grief. One throws themselves off the tower before declaring he'd rather die by his own hand than be taken by the enemy.

The Vikings of wrymgaurd wasted no time surrounding the small fortress. Ballistas on all sides. A few arrows made their way down from the tower injuring a number of Vikings but after two archers were caught in the chest by ballista bolts the defenders remained hunkered down out of the ballistas reach.

The rest of the siege equipment was near useless as the entrance to the tower lay atop a rocky spire with only a staircase leading to it.

Above two dragons circled waiting for the navardian troops to show themselves. Yet they dared not land near the tower. After hours of useless pounding and chipping at the door they decided the answer was all to simple.

Three men stood as a base and held another above them a fifth Viking a small man by the name of colebert clambered over the top of all and onto the top of the wall. Sliding down he opened the door from the inside. The wrymgaurd stormed the tower taking it with ease and killing those inside without much thought.

That evening a feast was laid out for the warriors, drinks were passed around and the men lay drunk n happy around the base of the tower. Until at least the king of yenvar strode forward from the wood line crying. My soldiers! my men! Today we avenge anvard! A force of over a hundred rushed into the wrymgaurd encampment taking them by surprise and killing dozens before they had a chance to react. The assault caught them off guard but their numbers still nearly doubled those of yenvar. And the battle was far from over.

Prince Hadrian swung his massive broadsword taking the legs off his opponent, and without further thought sunk his blade into the soldiers chest. Another rushed forward axe held high only to be parried when it came down, a second Viking joined the first attacking the prince and then a third. Despite the pressure he stood calm falling back to his training. Parry, block thrust Dodge. He managed to sidestep a sword and flick his dagger into an enemies abdomen. Without missing a beat he loped off the outstretched arms of another leaving him defenseless and performing an extraordinary feat lept out kicking the chest of another incoming Vikings while spinning mid air and taking the head clean off of his last standing enemy. He stood still a smile on his face sweat dripping from his body. I will have tale told of my- his thoughts were cut short as a dragon landed atop him sending him tumbling to the ground. His eyes reached upwards to be met with a giant paw. The dragon stepped in his chest covering nearly his whole body beside his head that was visible inbetween two claws.

Thora sat atop the dragon, she called out to the men of yenvar, this is not your fight. Leave now and you shall be spared! You have fought well but our numbers are not something you can compete with.

I have your prince, should you leave he will be let free but if not? She said. The dragon closed its grip around the terrified Prince. There will be consequences.

With that the dragon took to the air leaving the battle

Yenvar what do you say?

The morning began in silence.

Miller Tom had risen before dawn, as he always did. He opened the shutters of his old mill and looked toward the capital of Ulan. The fields were calm, the wind gentle, and for a fleeting moment the kingdom seemed at peace.

Few could have imagined how quickly that peace would die.

For many years, Ulan had been ruled by Nephren Ka, King of the Undead.

Strangely enough, life under his reign had never been the nightmare outsiders imagined. The harvests were protected. Bandits vanished without a trace. Taxes were fair, and justice was swift.

Yet something always felt... wrong.

The mayor was a skeleton. The judges were skeletons. The city guard saluted skeleton captains. Every respected official smiled with the empty grin of a skull.

They were polite. They were fair.

But they were dead.

So when the Green Dragons conquered Ulan, the people flooded into the streets. They welcomed Lord James with cheers, flowers, and tears of relief.

At last...

A ruler of flesh and blood.

Under Lord James, Ulan flourished. Markets overflowed with merchants, villages expanded, roads were rebuilt, and hope returned to the kingdom.

Then, one day…

Lord James disappeared. No explanation. No farewell. No successor.

At first, few believed the rumors.

But within weeks, the kingdom began to unravel. One commander ordered the city walls reinforced. Another redirected the workers to build new farms. Officials argued over supplies while soldiers received conflicting orders. It seemed as though one hand no longer knew what the other was doing.

Then came the warnings.

Messengers from Anvard and the Western Alliance rode through every town.

"Leave Ulan."

"Lord Lothar marches."

"The Necromancer Nagash has unleashed his armies."

"Varandia has fallen to the Blood Dragons."

"A great Troll Host is coming."

Many families fled that very day. Others only shrugged.

"The Green Dragons defeated Nephren Ka."

"They'll defeat trolls too."

Miller Tom stayed. His father had lived in Ulan. His grandfather had lived in Ulan. He would not abandon his home because of rumors. Then came the morning.

The first alarm horn echoed across the city. A second answered. Then another. Until every tower in the capital cried out together.

Tom stepped outside.

Hundreds of Green Dragons soldiers were already assembling beyond the city walls. Long lines of shields. Ranks of spears. Cavalry forming on the flanks. Their emerald banners snapped proudly in the cold wind.

Then...

The earth trembled. At first, Tom thought it was thunder. But the sky was clear. The shaking grew stronger. Every heartbeat carried another tremor.

Then he saw them.

A black tide stretching from one horizon to the other.

The Troll Host.

An endless sea of monsters clad in iron and hide.

But they were not what froze the blood in his veins.

Towering above the army marched colossal beasts unlike anything he had ever imagined. They resembled monstrous elephants, yet each stood as tall as a fortress tower. Their hides looked like cracked mountainsides. Their tusks were longer than ships. Their trunks swung with the strength of battering rams. Upon their backs stood towering wooden fortresses reinforced with bone, iron, and black banners. Archers and spear throwers watched the battlefield from above like gods of war.

Every step shook the earth. Every roar silenced the wind.

Then the charge began.

The Green Dragons held firm. Shield walls locked. Spears lowered.

For one glorious heartbeat, it looked as though courage might overcome terror.

Then the giants struck.

It was like watching an avalanche crash into a wall of glass. The colossal beasts trampled entire companies beneath their feet. Their ivory tusks impaled ranks of soldiers before hurling the broken bodies aside. One monstrous trunk wrapped around a mounted knight, horse and all, lifting them high into the sky before throwing them into the fleeing Green Dragons behind him.

Men disappeared beneath stamping feet. Shields splintered. Lances snapped like twigs.

The battlefield dissolved into chaos.

Behind the beasts came disciplined ranks of heavily armored Uruk-hai. No screams. No wild fury. Only relentless execution.

Shield by shield. Line by line. Step by step.

They butchered everything still standing. Within minutes, the proud army of the Green Dragons had ceased to exist.

Tom stood frozen. Unable to breathe. Unable to look away.

Then a deafening howl shattered his trance. A gigantic Warg burst into the streets. Upon its back rode a scarred Orc carrying burning torches. One after another, he hurled them onto rooftops. Within moments, flames consumed the houses.

Children screamed. Mothers ran carrying their infants. Smoke swallowed the streets.

Tom grabbed his wife's hand.

"Run!"

They fled without looking back.  Behind them, the ground continued to shake beneath the footsteps of monsters.

For one final moment, Tom turned toward the battlefield.

The emerald banner of the Green Dragons lay buried in mud and blood.

No hand reached to raise it again.

The Green Dragons had been utterly defeated. Only a few survived.

And Ulan had fallen once more.

Written by u/patrick-hill-one, reviewed and approved by the other mods

100 men stood on the ramparts of the great anvardian fortress, 100 men stood their ground against the wave of skeletons that marched their way. 100 men faced death with nerves steeled against the fat that awaited them. 100 stood against well over a 1000. Their resolve apparent on the face of each warrior. Death had come to their land and while all others had fled they remained knowing that stopping the enemy was not a possibility but slowing them down may give their land and Lord time to prepare for the coming onslaught.

100 men stood firm when the skeletons reached their gate, 100 when arrows rained down from above in the hundreds all while the undead swarmed the gate, their golems tearing at it attempting to pull it from the hinges. 89 men stood breath still in their lungs the other left laying where they had been skewered with arrows. More volleys were exchanged with the skeletons taking heavy losses assaulting the formidable fortress, but their numbers were impossible to stop, and every one that fell another stood ready to take its place.

74 men stood at the gates 10 left on the ramparts lest the enemy try to scale the walls. And 74 stood firm when the door was wrenched from its frame and thrown backwards into the defenders, killing two

72 stood their ground after the golems tore through the empty warped doorway and 58 remained standing by the time they tore down the golems piece by piece, all while attempting to hold the rest of the forces at bay.

Minutes stretched to hours as they held the gateway, piles of bones surrounding them but in the end 44 men were pushed back fighting as they went. As soon as the foothold was secured the courtyard flooded with the pale color of bone and the haunting sight of empty eyes.

The walls were stormed and 38 men made it to the keep before they could be cut down. Death, death had them pinned, they were within its grip but yet they continued to deny it. Manning what positions they could but the keep had too many openings to be held for long. Once more the skeletons broke through, the first wave of them being cut down only to be instantly replaced. 26 men retreated backwards up the stairs weapons towards the enemy making them pay for every step up they took.

23 men reached the top. With nowhere else to go they made their final stand the skeletons ripped apart by axes and shattered by flails. But there was no end to them and by the time the top of the towers floor was no longer visible under a layer of bones only 4 men remained standing, breathing, living, for now at least. They stood atop a small mountain of defeated enemies, a testament not only to their skill but their fortitude. The leader of the four looked to his side through the towers window, out into the land beyond, they had accomplished their task the enemy had been delayed. The vyrin lakes had been lost. Surrounded by hundreds of remaining skeletons Their deaths now would not gain anvard anything. Surrender crossed his mind.

will he surrender giving himself the chance to fight for his king again one day or leave this world taking as many skeletons with him as he can?

A group of mercenaries cross through Rutland, with newly acquired treasure. There is one crown and 8 marks with them. The lords of rutland see an opportunity to enlarge their coffers.

OOC for the next 24 hours this event is open for all lords regardless of where or how strong to try to gain some coin. You can Ask, beg, intimidate, threaten, attack, offer trades or offer them protection from another attacking Lord in return for currency. You come up with an idea and present it to captain ulfar their leader. Or don't and just attack.

After 24 hours I will do a short narration on the happenings and who gets what rewards.

Three side notes: it doesn't matter where you are to make things fair distance will not be a factor to reaching them.

Forces of more than 25 would take too long to arrive and miss the event all together

And lastly we will soon be bringing uses to the currency to the game! Enjoy

Count Joran steeped to the side as an arrow hissed past his head. The battering ram.had finally made it to the gate but losses were mounting, the northern troops were sitting exactly in the line of sight from the falcons towers. And we're pinned between the castle walls and the palisade. YOU!! COME HERE!!! The count yelled pointing at a soldier crouching underneath his shield. Find out why the damn ladde- thunkk an arrow embedded itself in the soldiers neck. The soldier went limp and slipped from count Joran hands hitting the ground. Fuck! Get me someone that can get those ladders up and now. We need those walls clear! As he was speaking boiling oil poured over the rampart top hitting the battering ram, setting it aflame

Inside the tunnel the furthest strike group had found themselves surrounded by falcons before they could enter the keep, they held the hallway as long as they could but in the end we're overwhelmed. Their last stand gave the krakens enough time to slip away back towards the previous stairwells, where they met up with the elves. Who had finished clearing the first tower and were now raining arrows down on the falcons in the courtyard from behind. The two captains of the different strike teams knelt heads close together so they could be heard over the roar of battle. The team meant to take the keep is gone, falcon soldiers will likely follow down the tunnels, we can't advance there what havoc is available here? The walls I need them clear and the gateneeds to be opened from the inside, yelled the elves strike captain. We don't have much longer before they storm this tower and clear us out but we'll attempt to clear a path for you on the walls with our marksmen.

Down in the second house the second strike team dressed as falcons left the home making for the gathouse, in plain view of all others they hoped that their disguises as well as their confidence would quell any suspicion. They would have likely been called out if not for the krakens bursting from the bottom of the tower onto the walls followed by a flurry of arrows from the elves atop the tower helping to clear their way. It proved more than the distraction they needed and they met no questions as until they stepped inside the gatehouse itself. The gate keepers looked puzzled when several soldiers stormed in but realization set in quick, not quicker than the northern blades though. They had fell the gate keepers without anything but screams in defense. The screams though brought attention.

Outside the fortress sir rhodri had gathered his men to be first on the walls, the siege towers neared and the ladders were being placed. He stood in the top of the siege tower, inches from the ramp yet to be lowered, the men was crowded with anxious men knowing they were mere minutes from brutal combat. He could hear the clatter of weapons, arrows whistling through the air, the screams of dying men, and near the base the yell LADDERS LADDERS LADDERS! They had timed it so the ladders would be hoisted the moment the towers hit. This was it. Fwwoosh the ramp dropped slamming into the walls, sir rhodri raised his shield just in time before a volley of arrows peppered his men, several fell, but they were behind him and the traitors ahead. He lept to the stone in front of him swinging his broadsword in wide arcs, clearing space for more men to pour out from behind him. In his peripherals he could see the other towers ramps hit the ramparts and northern soldier charge into the fray. They were outnumbered but had momentum in their side, and then the first of the soldiers appeared over the ladders, adding to their forces. The falcons were soon overwhelmed and the main wall was taken.

Count Joran watched from below as men poured over the walls, he wished them luck but his attention lay elsewhere, the gate. It was massive and reinforced they could not break through. He racked his head for options his back pressed against the wall attempting to stay out of the enemy archers sight. The gate seemed like a lost cause was there even a way to breach it? As if triggered by his thoughts the gates cracked open as of on their own. Their strike team would be well rewarded for this. The falcons loyal to the north rushed through the gates coming face to face with a formation of men, at their front stood a falcon officer and before him knelt the two remaining members of the strike team that took the gatehouse. He held a dagger in one hand while two men flanking him held the hair of their prisoners. In a slow deliberate move the officer bent down and cut the throats of both. Shoving them to their sides while they bled out. "Come let us give these stones their fill of blood"

Count Joran let the rage sweep through him as he charged forwards. The two sides clashed brutally, hacking at one another in a flurry of weapons and bodies. The falcons despite their strength in arms could not compete with the numbers and in the end we're driven back to the keep. A total of 80 men remaining to defend it.

The first wall and the courtyard though, had been taken by the north.

The dragon legion fleet has no sooner sighted the shores of disklike when the sails appear of anvards Vikings. 5 ships in total (and a canoe with a mast). Headed straight for the legions army, a dragon can be seen soaring high above the ships small flames emerging on its breath.

Without missing a beat the commander of the attacking forces signals their dragons to take to the sky and all three launch, gaining as much height as they can so as to attain the same level as anvards.

The dragon legion had not expected to encounter so many and so fast, a quick assault to secure the portal but anvards watchtowers had been manned and the attack came as no surprise. Both sides however were fully ready for the fight ahead.

Wood snapped and splintered as the first ships made contact, men spilling into enemy ships from both sides. Several of the dark forces spilt over the deck and into the sea drowning in their armour. While Vikings pushed to make a foothold against the heavy infantry.

Overhead the dragons whirled around the larger anvardian one chasing after the others. Though he was larger he was outnumbered and badly every turn he made left one of his own sides exposed. He continually gained scratches and knicks though nothing major. Yet he knew that he would not out last these smaller younger dragons if he could not catch them. In a desperate attempt he pulled his wings to his body, diving down towards the naval battle happening below. When the three dragons of lathurda followed suit giving chase he snapped them back open watching as the others flew past him. He once more collapsed his wings falling into a dark red dragon. He latched onto it with his falcons and bit into its neck, ripping it off entirely before hitting the water hard. He surfaced gasping for breath, dragons and water rarely mixed well. Yet when he did he found the two remaining enemy dragons had been waiting for him. Everytime he tried to emerge he found a blow headed his way, knowing it was a losing battle as long as he remained in the water he launched into the air attempting to shoot past their attacks. He continued upwards until bursting through a cloud when the pain registered. His wing, torn and badly. The battle would be over for him he must return home and lick his wounds. The others did not agree as he turned north towards anvard they continued their onslaught. Dive bombing the dragon, taking every chance they did to inflict damage.

The torn wing grew weary and the proud anvardian dragon knew there would be no escape. Gathering whatever peace he could he spread himself out making an easy looking target from above and only after accepting a few hits without attempting to retaliate did he flip around latch his claws into the belly of his enemy and let himself fall.

Down below the battle raged on, though being out numbered the dragon legion had lost two of its three ships while anvard had only lost two of their five. The remaining soldiers were fighting to maintain control of their own ship, when the dragons came hurtling down crashing into the water around them. Followed shortly by the last remaining dragon swooping in and setting one of the Viking longboats aflame. The shock of it all gave the dragon legion men the time to regain control of their own ship and pull away.

They retreated under cover of their one remaining dragon back to their homeland. Anvard had repelled the invaders today. Who knew what tomorrow would bring

Red Judas rode at the front of the blood dragon army, they had Crossed miles of verdainian land and yet seen no hint of resistance. He figured it was a trap but to some degree what choices did they have but to march forward possibly into it. Scouts stretched out on either of their flanks to report should an enemy force be detected, yet they continued advancing without sign of anything. He began to notice that not only was the land devoid of resistance but of people, they hadn't seen anyone on the roads, no one in the fields working, no villagers scurrying away at the sight of them. The land seemed desolate.

After several more hours they saw a silhouette on the horizon smoke wafting off from it. Finally a village. But upon drawing closer they realized the smoke was not that of hearths stoves or a blacksmiths flame. The village had been burnt leaving nothing but burnt out husks in place of the homes. No signs of a fight nor of any dead were found in the wreckage.

Red Judas had a growing sense of unease. He slid from his saddle and hit the ground sending a small cloud of ash up into the air. He knelt down examining the village, running the ash through his hand. When a scout flanked by two men came to his side. My lord we found these in the fields and this on the road he said dropping a heavy bag half full and a doll. There is nothing else in this damn place. The blood dragon captain kicked the bag spilling its contents into the ash. Salt red Judas says through gritted teeth, the cowards fled and ruined the land behind them. The doll must be from a child who dropped it while their family fled. He tucked it gently into his tunic. Don't worry little one we shall reunite you with this soon enough he thought with an unpleasant smile. Turning towards his second in command he gave one last command, send scouts through the rest of the land but we hold here, verdainia is ours.

Count Joran stood on the crest of a bill overlooking the northern camp, men scurried around below him, assembling for an assault. The other northern lords stood around him, silent watching their soldiers prepare for the day ahead while their banners snapped in the wind. It was a perfect day, not for war, for enjoying one's time with their family or sitting under a large oak with ale in hand and friends laughter surrounding you. The sun was warm but soft, a breeze carried through the fields. But alas here they were before a former friend, ready to bleed. How much blood was to be spilt was yet to be determined. His thoughts wandered to the strike teams in place.

Lord falcon gripped the parapets knuckles white, there was no fear in his heart but stress had seeped it's way into his head. He had know they were outnumbered but not as badly as was now apparent with the northern alliance assembling below him. The situation was overwhelming and a lesser man would have been consumed but the proud falcon kept his perch. His fortress had been battered for weeks now with the trebuchets, catapults and other seige engines of the north. They had remained slow but consistent throughout these weeks not giving his men the chance to relax. His walls had taken damage, cracked in places yet they still stood. His eyes darted down to a single man darting from one artillery piece to the next. He released the parapet and sighed, so it begins.

Back down off the castle count Joran watched as his runner made his way around the field, initiating the first part of the assault. The siege engines switched to a rapid pace firing as fast as they could be loaded. His forces would be marching under the arc of projectiles, it was dangerous but less so than facing walls brimming with archers. He mounted his horse and rode to the front of the formation, addressing the combined army. We have been betrayed as you well know, but today it ends. today we seal the crack in the northern shield, today we replace those that would support us with one hand while the other holds a dagger ready to strike us down, today we end this treachory. Forward! For the north! His men flooded around him towards the castle walls. Seige towers, battering rams and ladders in tow.

The small strike force had located the secret entrance near the northwest corner of the fortress, they had waited restlessly for the attack to begin so they could slip through undetected. But now hearing the roar of soldiers roaring forward they began their work. A team of kraken warriors led the way checking for traps, fearing the worst after the blood queen revealed this passageway. None were found however. The first group of eleves split off at a stair well heading up into the house bordering the wall. The lower level was clear but they could hear voices upstairs. They found just under a dozen men relaxing on cots awaiting their turn at watch, the first one jumped to his feet reaching for his weapon but never made it, four more were cut down before they could find their feet and another three before they could grab their weapons. Unprepared the rest were made quick work of with the northern strike team losing one of its members to an dagger and another they had to leave behind wounded.

Back in the tunnel the kraken warriors had just finished dismantling an iron gate, the second stairwell was just past it and a second group departed securing the empty house above. The two remaining groups headed onwards towards the keep, or at least they hoped.

Back at the main assault, the forces had just reached the castle walls, debris from their own seige weapons crashed down around them killing a few of the northerners. Grim but a willing price for the advance under protection. Now though, with them risking more collateral a flag was raised signaling all artillery to end their battery. The falcons above them wasted no time in taking their positions and as soon as they had, hell rained down on the attackers.

Count Joran looked at the ramp ahead of them leading to the gateway, they were here they might as well press forward, and try to take the gatehouse. But they would enter the enemies kill zone.

Will count Joran press the attack or wait to see if his strike teams are able to break through?

What will the falcons find at the end of the tunnel traps? Guards? A keep unprepared for intruders?

The Talon had just rounded the south eastern tip of garrus when the call to arms went out. The night watchman struggling to make himself heard above the clamour of men rushing to their stations.

The ships commander stepped onto the deck

"Report" he stated even keeled. 5 ships on the horizon we cant tell who but the watchman says the sails are red.

"Nagash and his orcs" captain amair still seems unphased even if annoyed. He spits over the railing at the thought of the orcs aboard the approaching ships.

"Turn the talon around well outrun them on the other side of garrus, we don't have the time to fight them and make it to Lord falcons side in time"

The chase had continued for nearly two days, with the horde losing the distance it had gained while the talon turned around. With the falcons in between the arrad and allor, when again the alarm was sounded. Captain amair watched as the sails in front of them slowly grew larger until he could see the red in them. He heard the hordes sails got their color from captured enemies they strung up from the mast until they bled out into the cloth around them. His uncaring facade quickly replaced the flash of fear that crossed his face. They were caught between two fleets from the horde, how had they know? Was every escape cut off? What were the options now? sail west and around therican. He wasn't sure they had the supplies for that, and again he surely wouldn't reach his lord in time to aid him. His face hardened. Through it would be, through the strait, through the horde, through the danger.

The men stood silent, weapons in hand, faces grim, dead silent. The wind snapped through the sails above them occasionally breaking the silence. Amair stood silently at the helm, saber at his side. They were minutes from engagement, his face remained calm, it continued to do so when the first volley of arrows hit the deck. Felling several of his men, it stayed rigid when they collided with a horde vessel head on. He remained unflinching while two ships slammed into the sides of his longwise and orcs began swarming aboard. He continued stoic through the fray fighting off every orc that attempted to climb to his position by the helm. Nothing crossed his face when one final ship pulled alongside his and giant armoured trolls boarded, sweeping his men into the sea or smashing them into the deck. And his face didn't falter when he knew beyond all hope that the battle was lost. Or when the orcs gathered the surviving falcons to the center of the boat. Not when a white robed wizard stepped aboard.

But when the wizard looked back towards his own sails and mentioned they didn't look quite a dark enough shade of red, his composure finally left him.