Assault from the East

[Malkaer Andares]

OOC: continued from here

IC: For a moment the esh’lahier had stood alone on his command post, a hill in front of his camp, and watched over Malice. Now, his second in command, Major Braden arrived, aswell as two dozen messengers, to be used for communication between Malkaer and the captains on the field and between Malkaer and the other commanders.

Adressing one of the messengers, the dark elf said: ”Send word to Commander Th’alashar and the new New Coldmoonian commander that I will attack as fast as possible from the other side of Malice. I will order Commander Skybreak to split up his forces and send half of them and the other half to me, excluding campguards.” The messenger ran away as if he had Jalat chasing him.
Waving another messenger to him, Malkaer said: ”Ride as fast as you can to Commander Skybreak. Tell him to split up his forces and send one half to Commander Th’alashar and one half to me. To which side he personally goes, is his decision.” Another commander on this side of the battle would perhaps be good, but the Enamorian Forces could also use Talinnar’s skills on the other side of the battlefield. The human messenger quickly took his leave.
Malkaer called a third messenger. ”Send this message to the Arconis mages: Commander Andares orders the master druid and two sorcerer adepts to ride as fast as possible to the camp of Commander Th’alashar.” Malkaer had heard of a terrible powerful mage inspiring fear in the hearts of their troops, a threat their own mages could hopefully deal with. ”I request Master Crotheny and the remaining adepts”, a druid and another sorcerer, if he remembered well, ”to come to the command post.”
The last messenger had the simplest message: ”Bring mister Angor here.” The former Thane was to be held as a criminal, but Malkaer had eye for the terrible power of the giant warrior. The esh’lahier hoped Nashkel would accept the role of champion amongst the troops, fighting in the first ranks and boosting the morale of the soldiers around him.

Being done with the messages for now, Malkaer watched how the positioning progressed. He expected nothing less then that the captains would assume their positions correctly: one division regulars and one division veterans on both the left and the right flank. The two flanks were roughly 1 kilometre apart. Two divisions veterans and one division regulars formed the first central attack wave, two divisions regulars and one division veterans were behind them, forming the secnd wave. Behind this large central block of troops, consisting of in total 3000 soldiers, was the small hill where Malkaer had erected his command post. The Port Alyxandrian cavalry would be placed left from the hill, the remaining division veterans right. They would function as reserve. Back in the camp some 1500 troops were left, who had all been awoken from their rest. Hopefully, these tired men wouldn’t needed, but they were ready in case of an emergency.



OOC: Jonaleth, could you give a description of the terrain? I think Malkaer is more the type of commander that overviews and commands, rather than throw himself into battle. Unless ofcourse you plan to force him into combat=)

[Nashkel Angor]

Nashkel arrived. He said nothing. His thirteen foot tall figure was clad in heavy plate mail, of elven steel. It was light, and it was thick. The giants chiseled face showed no emoition. His dark skin was motionless, and his long dreadlocks fell to his shoulders, waiving slightly in the breeze.

His arms were covered with his armor, but underneath the were stretched, battle hardened, strong and ready. He had stretched his legs as well, and was ready to fight on a moments notice.

His axe was sharp. The weapon never dulled, and was stained with the blood of a terrible archmage from Mystique, Omarus. The bloodstains magically are irremovable, and grant the weapon the razor sharp edge indefintally. He had a spear on his back. With this spear he had slain a Cyraxian, a demon of unrivaled power. Through only the giants skill and fevor, was the demon slain.

However, in his mind he was ready as well. He had prepared several spells. A quicksand spell. This spell would be useful for ehading off an enemy charge. The real beauty of it was he could then harden the quicksand, which would leave enemies buried half way, in rock.

He also had a heat blood spell, while fairly untested, would work, according to Nashkel's practice. The spell was a general area effect spell which would do anywhere from kill to make sickly fevorish any in the area.

His spells aside, he wanted to know why he was summoned.

"Why have I been asked to come?"

[Malkaer Andares]

The imposing giant was quickly led to the leading officer, Commander Andares. The esh'lahier was busy arranging the troops according to plan. This needed to happen fast, as their swordbrothers on the other side of Malice were fighting and dying. When the commander was warned of Nashkel's arrival he turned to the battle ready giant and smiled approvingly. Whatever could be said about the former Thane, as a warrior he was a lust to the eye of any commander.

Malkaer himself did not own such a magnificent armour as Nashkel did. He had sent his butler to place an order at the Arconis Metal Works, but his servant had informed him by letter that it would still take a while. Therefore, the swordmaster was now dressed up in his old armour: a simple fine steel chainmail. He also possessed a large shield and a full helmet, but these two attributes lay currently in the grass, as the commander needed all his arms and vision. His weapons were of better make though. A beautiful ornated elven scabbard housed the swordsman's powerful sword- a weapon with a blade made of the sharpest dwarven steel, but with a spine of elven steel, to reduce weight and add flexibility. In case the elven warrior lost his prime weapon, he could always use his secondary weapon, an elven steel shortsword. A third weapon was hidden inside his right boot, a small but cruel dwarven steel dagger, which had saved Malkaer's life many times.

"To do why you came to Malice- destroy it", answered the esh'lahier. Pointing towards the place where the first ranks would assemble for the assault, some three hundred metres away from the hill, Malkaer added: "I would like you to position yourself there, as inspiring champion for the first few ranks." Pausing to allow Nashkel take a good look at the spot, the esh'lahier continued: "The plan is as follows: each unit of hundred men is divided into fifty spearmen and fifty archers. We march steadily towards the orcish camps and when they are in range of our shortbows, we halt and let our archers rain down Aetheria upon these bastards. I hope this will cause the orcs to come out of their holes and attack our wall of spears. In the melee, the archers will drop their bows and draw their shields and shortswords, finishing those orcs that have not been killed while charging on our spears."

"However, if we experience a lot of counter missile with greater range than our archers, the steady march must go into a quick march and eventually a charge, to bring our men into melee as quickly as possible to avoid further missile casualties- I cannot imagine that the scum from Malice will fire on their own troops. Anyway, since you will be amongst the first lines, you are in a better position to alert to men to go into quick march. You must decide when to go into quick march. Do not decide this too fast- we can take a rock or two- only when you think they have more missile power then we do, go into quick march."

"That was the most important, but also take care of these little things: take care that the men hold their formation, for example. A line of orcs charging towards you is terrifying, but if the first spearmen break the line, everyone behind them is doomed. Also watch out for traps, in case the fighting will be done inside their camp. If you spot a trap, order a soldier to place his spear in the ground near that trap, so that the other soldiers are warned." Trying to think of anything else he could instruct the giant with, Malkaer could only think of detailing the communication system to him. "Messages from the command post will be carried out by messangers, who will be teleported to the right company by Master Crotheny. The problem is, as you perhaps see, while Master Crotheny can teleport them to a place on the battlefield, it is too difficult to attempt and teleport them back to the command post. This means I can only send messages, but not recieve feedback."

"Very well, I believe that was all. The positioning will be done within a quarter of a candlemark, so hurry to your position. Good luck." Malkaer made a quick salute before Nashkel, even though this was not required for his rank. It was a sign of respect, since the giant may well die this brightening.

[Talinnar Skybreak]

continued from here

Before long General Skybreak approached the Commander on the small hill, from where all could be overseen clearly. Behind him came the Mage Division of the army under his command. Or rather what was left of it, not few of them were killed a couple of nights ago by assassins from Malice. Talinnar had been able to track most of the assassins and kill them, but fact was they lost precious Arcana users. (ooc: for exact numbers ask Sunshine ... I've got no clue)

The Half-Elf had everything redy for battle. His men were standing by and he had taken some messengers with him, which could signal the two armies of him in a moment. Every soldier in his army knew what was asked of him and what to do. In that way Talinnar was glad he had veterans serving under him.

When the Half-Elf parked his horse next to that of Malkaer he greeted his Commander and trusted friend and remained silent for a moment, while he overlooked the battleplain.

"This is it ..."

Was all he said after that ...

[Apophis]

The terrain was fairly flat and open; some tree stumps still stood in the field, though most had been covered with grass and weeds by now. Obviously, this too had been part of the woods surrounding the city; though it's capable workers had clearly hewn through it, making a well viewable open zone around the city, so it could be well defended. It was only slightly uneven; most of the hills had been flattened to allow for a full spread of arrows from the battlements if the need arose.

The orcish camps which clung to the city walls were much like their compatriots on the other side; ramshackle tents, bunkers, towers and other lighty fortification the orcish warriors had been able to brew up. Campfires were always on, and wariors were at least half-eyeing the Daltinan troops.

[Nashkel Angor]

OOC:Im going to wait. I have two PC giants that may join us here in a few days. Thanks.

[Veleraen]

That brightening, Veleraen had awoken, ready for battle. He could feel the tension in the air, as it was so thick, it might have resisted the very blade of 'Aslan's Fang'. Waking up, ready for battle, Veleraen prepared himself for the oncoming onslaught.

Adorning his full plate armour, Veleraen strapped himself into it, making sure everything fit and was snug enough so that the giant had enough manoeuvrability out on the field. After making sure his armour was secure, Veleraen applied a flask of oil to it, which not only shined his armour, and made it gleam more in the sun, but it also silenced the full plate mail. Yes, it indeed was truly remarkable, a concoction that was made to silence armour and it was quite useful on the battlefield, as many enemies would hear the giant coming at them just by the sound of his armour rattling around, but now the giant would not give himself away, as when he walked from that moment forth, no creak or squeak emanated from the metal joints in his armour.

Grabbing his full helm, the giant plopped it onto his giant head, making sure he was comfortable enough. The eagle feather plume on top rustled a little as he shook his head somewhat, trying to get himself psyched up for the battle that would occur that brightening. The giant was risking his life, and he knew full well that he would have to be extra careful in his strategy that brightening.

After having somewhat of a morning meal, Veleraen reported to his duty post, which was supposed to be next to Nashkel, or at least the giant thought so. Veleraen had promised to fight side by side with Nashkel, and that's exactly what he was going to do, one way or another.

Spotting Nashkel not so far off from his somewhat taller vantage point, Veleraen walked over to the men he was with, making a large thump each time his foot hit the ground. Being 800kg wasn't easy...
"Serale Lord Nashkel, Private Veleraen of the Veldar Elite, reporting sir. Veleraen gave the traditional salute to Nashkel and to the two elves that were present. Veleraen recognized their authority and knew that they were pretty much near the top of the command chain by their ranks that were indicated on their uniforms. "I was asked to join you in your fight against these scum, and I wouldn't have it any other way sirs. I can't let you have all the fun now can I?" Veleraen teased in his usual deep voice. Letting out a small chuckle for a giant, he immediately regained his composure and stood at attention.

The giant was all decked out in his full plate armour, rays of light bouncing off its surface from the special oil that been applied not long ago. 'Aslan's Fang' stood ready in his right hand, its butt end on the ground. It's blade would taste flesh that brightening, and his enemies would know the true meaning of pain and the wrath of Aslan himself.

"Today is a good day to die. May Aslan guide our blades towards their targets, and help us rid this city of these heathens.....Aslan have mercy on us.." Veleraen said a quiet, short prayer to Aslan after all the orders and formalities had been taken care of. Closing his eyes behind the veil of his helm in a moment of silence, Veleraen gathered all of his emotions, gathered his feelings of hate and anger that had been used against him and re-directed them towards the now hated enemy of Malice.

"After today's deeds are done, they shall know the name Veldar."

[Stoned Darkholme]

The brightening of the battle Stoned was supposed to fight with his friend Nashkel, the giant woke up and stretched a large, bone cracking stretch. He got up, stretched his wakening muscles til they were warm with exertion and quickly strapped his Elven Steel mesh armour and battle axe harness tightly to his body, as he always sleeps fully dressed, incase of suprise attacks.


He hefted his weighty battle axe and ran his thumb down the edge, making sure it was still sharp. He sucked the blood from his small wound and smiled, hoping he would taste more from his enemies today. The giant slips the battle axe into the harness and pushes out of his tent and quickly walks towards where Nashkel and Veleraen could be seen standing, rubbing his palms together and then running them over his bald scalp with a wicked grin.

"Serale friends, are we to wait long for a chance to bloody our weapons and taste the flesh of our enemies?" Stoned smiles, baring his teeth in excitement; "Hopefully we can end this day with a good 'Malicean' meal to fill our bellies." Knowing full well what a good giant's meal consists of.

[Nashkel Angor]

Nashkel nodded to his commander, and motioned to the two giants.

"Follow me." He then took up his axe, and made his way to the front. He would call the shots today on the battlefield.

Nashkel then walked in front of the front line, looking at the troops who were prepared to march on the command of the general.

"I have seen many battles take place. Today is a sure victory. We will not be defeated, but will defeat. When you hear me cry out, shout 'for our force is greater!'. Men, elves, dwarves, giants, hobbits, and others, be ready to fight, and be ready to win!"

Nashkel then motioned for the slow march to begin, taking place on the front line. He hoped that his giant friends would be on his flanks, but their position was theirs to decide.

[Stoned Darkholme]

Stoned followed closely beside Nashkel and listened intently, as his fellow giant spoke. He frees his axe from the harness when Naskel take a place on the front line of the march and marches beside him, feeling elated at the thought of bloody battle, and finally being able to tear someone apart, as he hasn't been able to do it for a while...considering its not very civilized to do it as an everyday hobby.

OOC:Sorry this wasnt a longer post....kinda forgot what i was gonna say...

[Veleraen]

Looking at Nashkel and over the field of men, Veleraen made sure he had everything for the battle. He had recently acquired a large tower shield that could attach to his forearm if the need arose, but for now, he strapped it onto his back and kept it there for future use, ready to whip it off at a moments notice. Luckily Veleraen had been in the Veldar, and knew how to march and keep form without stepping on the smaller species. He had had the unfortunate experience of tripping over his fellow comrades in Zerdargia and it wasn't a pretty sight, that's for sure.

Now the giant stood next to Nashkel Angor to his left, but gave him some room, as his halberd had a tendency to have a wide sweep sometimes, and to catch a fellow soldier with his blade would be fatal, as his halberd was blessed in the name of Aslan and was able to cut through steel as if it were silk itself. The giant would have to be cautious on the battlefield as there was no margin for error. War was hell, and that was no lie, as the giant had seen a fair share of combat himself, but nothing such as this full blown out siege, being next to his giant brethren, ready to shed blood and take life so easily as it was put into this world.

As Veleraen stood there, next to Nashkel, he prayed to Aslan a little more, asking for guidance on the battlefield and to lead him to victory. After a moment of solemn prayer, the giant started to pound the butt end of his polearm into the ground, trying to create rise the spirits of the men. Veleraen shifted his helmet upwards only revealing his face for a moment to say something to Nashkel. "May Aslan guide our blades true. Stick together, watch your back and don't get killed or else I'll have to lug your fat corpse back to camp, and I don't want to have to do that." Veleraen gave a good laugh and shut his helm over his face once more, his cold, war-hardened stare piercing out through the slits in his helm.

The beginning of a battle of untold proportions was about to occur, and all Veleraen could think about at that very moment was how he was going to explain to his folks back home why he was involved in all of this. Surely they would be afraid if they knew what Veleraen had gotten himself into, but the giant wouldn't give them that chance, as he was determined to make it back to Centripax in one piece.

With his long, slow strides, the giant slowly marched along side Nashkel towards the city. Being on the front was, well, somewhat exciting in a weird sort of way for Veleraen. Staring death in the eye, never knowing what would happen next. Veleraen lived for this, and as the adrenaline started to pump into his system, he could feel the anticipation starting to mount deep inside of him, as if his fate was being determined at that very moment by Aslan himself.

His halberd, perfectly balanced, its blade wickedly sharp, the giant's full plate armour, glimmering in the three suns of Telath, only Aslan could've made such a warrior out of Veleraen. The symbol of Aslan stared out into the battle from his breastplate, taunting his enemies to challenge the mighty titan. Razor sharp blades jutted out from his shoulder, forearm and shin plate guards, ready to impale an unlucky opponent.

With a solemn breath, Veleraen readied Aslan's Fang, two hands around the smooth haft of the weapon. Ready to do battle, and on the sound of command, ready to unleash Aslan's wrath upon his foes.

[Apophis]

If giants is what must scare the Malician orcs away, then surely the Daltinans were over arrogant, for when the army came marching stoicly forward, it was meeted by a countermarch from the orcs. Dozens of warbands and banners marched to the front of their fortifications. Orcs gripped axes, swords, bows, spears and halberts. Some of them were well dressed in various armours whilst their neighbours could be poorly protected -the orcs were unregimented to say the least, but they all looked pretty keen on a fight. Hunger and bloodlust was readable in their eyes, and no small group of giants was going to discourage them, for they were with a large enough army, and obviously had some more savage giants with them too. Horns were blown to discourage the Daltinan advance and bolster their own savage morale. Black clad humans could be seen moving among them- Malician emisaries send to guide the more tactless orcs into properly planned assaults and the likes. Battered catapults and balistas were brought up ready to fire at the well polished enamorian army. This fight wasn't going to be clean.

Towers shone with magical cracks of energy as savage shaman charged up their mixture of magics to unleash upon the forces of Nashkel. Bows were strung and arrows loaded. These orcs weren't going to let anyone walk over them without any difficulty. Most seemed keen for a fight, but the Malician emisaries held the troops back, waiting for the Daltinans to make a first move.

[Malkaer Andares]

Malkaer nodded at the two arriving giants. He was a bit surprised that a private of the Veldar Elite had come all the way here just to combat Malice. An example of how a true soldier spent his free time. Their jokes hinted of an obvious giant origin, they were even slower and less subtle than those of humans. But the esh'lahier cared little, the only thing that mattered to him was their fighting capability. Seeing the three towering creatures take their leave, the commander hoped Nashkel would remember his battleplan, and stick to it.

The commander was glad to see Talinnar arrive in time, before the march towards Malice commenced. The half-elf was rare with his words and Malkaer suspected his brother-in-arms to be a little nervous. The esh'lahier could not deny he was nervous, but everyone experienced nervosity in a different manner. Malkaer's nervosity was as a halter, laid around his neck as soon as he had assumed leadership. When he booked succes, this halter was loosened some, but when he failed it tightened again. This brightening was an important brightening, a brightening on which the halter could become as loose so that Malkaer wouldn't even notice it anymore, or so tight that it would almost squeeze the breath out of the elf. Perhaps this was a good time for a short prayer to the gods. Turning to Phedos, the patron god of the elves, of magic and of the strategists, Malkaer momentarily closed his eyes and thought: 'Great creator of elves, may my decisions be good and our magic stronger than that of evil. May we achieve victory this brightening.'

Opening his dark blue eyes, the commander turned them to Talinnar and from the half-elf, to his mages. To his knowledge, there had been almost a hundred mages from New Coldmoon, but their number seemed to have been decreased by a fifth. But Malkaer didn't ask for the reason of this, knowing the answer. "Position your mages in front of us and tell them to go into meditative state." Looking at the other troops Talinnar brought, Daltinan veterans, a small 2000 in number, the elven commander continued: "Warn your troops to take position. They will form the third wave of attack, positioned three hundred metres behind the second central attack line. What weapons did they bring with them?" Each Daltinan soldier possessed a spear, a shortsword, a shortbow and a shield, but it was madness to carry the weight of all these weapons into combat. Malkaer had decided that half of his army carried spears and shields, with the shortswords sheathed, and the other half to be armed with shortbows, with their round shields on their backs and the shortswords sheathed.

Then Master Crotheny arrived, followed by two adepts from the Arconian Acadamy of Magical Arts, as Malkaer had ordered. Nodding at the esh'lahier, the Master Sorcerer asked: "What would you have us do, Commander?" The Commander in chief answered him: "I want you to teleport messengers out into the battlefield, to carry over orders quickly." The powerful elven wizard frowned his eyes in thought and concluded "That can be easily done."
"Furthermore, I am placing the task of protecting the command post against magical fire on your shoulders." If the command post was hit with a great magical explosive, the Enamorian would lose not only it's finest commander (), but also it's second finest, Talinnar, and also almost all the mages. "Lastly, I would like you to prepare an especially destructive spell, to be launched at the Maliceans to cause death and despair." Nodding in understandment, Master Crotheny and the two adepts took some distance of the commander and slipped into Clara, preparing for the arcanic battle.

Then, after all battle preparations had been taken the command for attack could be given. Knowing that all captains of the divisions were eyeing him, Malkaer raised his shining longsword and slowly lowered the mighty blade, pointing it's tip towards Malice. Slowly, the massive army advanced forward, the great divisions and companies strictly keeping formation. The esh'lahier's keen eyes moved over from the left flank to the centre and then to the right flank. Then he set his gaze at Malice.

Distinguishing the black-clad figures from the orcs, doing their best to contain the savage creatures and refrain them from charging the Daltinans, Malkaer quickly gave a command to the New Coldmoonian mages in front of him. "Mage division! Create whatever Force Bolt, Light Dart or Firebolt you have and throw your magic at the black men of the Malice troops." These mages were only apprentices, but they were with many and if they combined their magic fire they might kill a few of these leading figures in the Malice camp. After all, Commander Himmer had also found his death by a lowly sorcerer apprentice. "Combine your magic. Each five of you take one black Malicean and when he's down, attempt to destroy another with the five of you. Aim at the critical parts, the neck or head or just under the chest." The esh'lahier was glad he taken a course at the Brightshadows Acadamy before the campaign at Malice. He was an initiate sorcerer now, but he did not go into Clara and attempt to cast a Force Bolt of himself, as it took too long and too much concentration. There were more things than magic only he had to focus on.

The first lines of the orcs were not in range of the shortbows for long. The shortbows could cover a distance of roughly two hundred metres for them to still be a little effective, but preferably they needed a distance of 150-100 metres to be most effective. The Daltinan army was not nearly inside range though, decreasing the distance between them and the Maliceans only slowly, as Malkaer had planned. It remained now to be seen what effect the New Coldmoonian mages had and what the Maliceans did, for Malkaer to stray away from his plan.

[Talinnar Skybreak]

Looking at Malkaer overlooking and commanding the troops, Talinnar felt proud to serve under him. The Esh'lahier was a good leader, although it seemed ironic to see a Esh'lahier attack a city filled with people from his kin. The Half-Elf knew Commander Andares longer than most of the crowd gathered here and knew he would do what had to be done. Talinnar was tensed and a bit nervous and didn't know how much nervousness affected Malkaer, but the Elf didn't seemed to be bothered. Or at least he didn't show it.

Putting nervousness into an advantage to keep him sharp was something the Half-Elf had learned long ago, but this was a little bit different. He was overlooking the battleplain. So much was at stake. What if ...? Immediately he cast that thought away. They would do what had to be done and victor over the dark side today and make Enamoria a better place. Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the Esh'lahier, giving him orders.

As reply to the given orders the Half-Elf had positioned his men as was ordered. The Mage division was put before the mount and awaiting orders, while they were commecing their meditation. In the meantime 2000 of his veterans were taking position as third attack wave. Talinnar had known they wore too many equipment befre he came here, but that was basicly because he had thought Malkaer might want a specific weapon-army.

The Half-Elf General decided, that since his army would be the third wave army, they would not carry missile weapons. Just for the simple reason that when the first two waves would be in combat they wouldn't be able to use missilewepaons, without hitting their own people. And since they weren't the frst wave he would not let them carry the spears either, those were more for first contact. No, his amry would only wear shields and shortswords and that was what he ordered his men.

[Apophis]

As the two armies marched closer to each other, the mages of New Coldmoon halted their advance and focused upon their selected enemies. before either side's troops had made thirty steps more, magical fire spat towards the Malician line, incinerating a dozen of the black clad humans in an instant. Immediatly some light panic entered the hearts of the orcish warriors, but mostly those who led them; the rest of the black-clad men fell back, into the midst of the orcish ranks. It took them a short while to make their orcish soldiers advance again, now that they led from their midst, instead of front.

In those spare moments, the Daltinans had advanced more, and halted about halfway towards the orcish camps, just in range of their Daltinan shortbows. Some orcs had stayed back in their huts, lobbing large rocks at the Daltinan lines, but they caused few casaulties for most often they were off-mark. Once the archers drew their arrows and loosed them, darkening the sky with a hail of bolts, the orcs surged forward, unwilling to stand and be skewered from afar. Many orcs fell in the first rain, and the second, but from within their ranks arrows and other missiles were hurled back, inflicting some light casualties on the Daltinan side. Some of the orcish shaman's tried to lob magic at their Enamorian enemies, but the mage corps of New Coldmoon was proving to be quite effective in dispelling any build-ups in energy, allowing only the occasion fireball or lightning bolt to hit the Daltinan ranks.

Then, the orcs truly surged forward at the Daltinans; waving wicked blades above their heads and using shields to protect their bodies from the daltinan short bow armed soldiers who shot freely at the onrushing horde.


ooc Orcs are closeby; go wild.