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princeofskotos) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
imperial_stage2012-04-30 01:07 pm
princeofskotos) wrote in imperial_stage2012-04-30 01:07 pm
The Battle for the Capital
Who: Avshar and warriors from everywhere in the Empire
What: All the kingdoms of Dagaria gang up to tear Avshar down from the throne.
Where: Directly outside the Imperial City
Warnings: Violence, blood, death, etc
[The night before the final battle]
The various kingdoms of Dagaria have, for once, put aside their differences to march on the Capital and take down Avshar. The two armies are close enough that if you climb up a hill in the Dagarian Encampment, you can see the thousands of camp fires of Avshar's army in the distance. The nomads aren't letting you get any sleep either. Occasionally one of them will wheel his horse just out of bowshot range to shout insults or even to just give wordless shrieks of hate. Even more distracting, though, is the drums. Somehow their sound is traveling all the way here, in an endless one-two beat like the heart of a demented god. It may not be enough to distract hardened determined warriors of fame, but among common rank and file, tensions are high and men are nervous. It's also very difficult to sleep.
[The morning of the battle]
Contrasting the grim business of the day, the sun is out shining merrily, and there isn't a cloud in the sky. If anything, it looks like today is going to be uncomfortably warm.
The two armies are lined up. Avshar's forces formed in a mostly disorganized swarm, anchored on one flank by a series of forested hills that were difficult to get through, and by the ruin of a small fort that had a few archers and a large dart thrower stationed in it. The army is slightly larger than the forces arrayed against it, and there are various demonic creatures spaced throughout it, but overall it looks like the average quality of troop may be a bit lower than the opposition.
Avshar himself is leading from the very center of his army, beneath a large battle standard of Skotos' emblem. The Standard waved back and forth three times, and the army came to a halt. You can dimly hear Avshar's voice in the distance. He appears to be giving a speech to his men to raise morale right before the fight.
If any of you want to do the same thing or make any last minute confessions, now is the time to do it.
[The battle!]
Avshar's cavalry flowed towards the Dagarian army like a tide. As they got into bow range, the nomads abruptly turned aside in a huge confusing mess that none the less seemed controlled somehow. As they turned, they started firing arrows, emptying quivers as fast as they could into the Dagarian forces in a deadly hail of needle pointed arrows. Occasionally a band of Nomads would run closer to unleash a few heavier arrows that were more suited for piercing heavy armor. Thus was the battle style of the steppe nomads. Eventually arrows ran low and scimitars came out, flashing in the sun, as the nomads charged in for melee range. What their fighting lacked in military precision, it made up for in sheer ferocity.
Avshar himself stood at the back of the army for now, considering his options. He had some truly horrifying spells he knew, but if he devoted too much power to a single spell and it somehow failed, he might be in trouble. Eventually he nodded to himself, coming to a decision. Let it be something minor, for now. The Dagarians would surely see it as the forerunner of something greater and more terrible. It will make them nervous. He reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a tarot card. "For thine gifts, Skotos, I thank thee."
He crushed the card in one hand and started chanting. As he did, the card burned in a blue flame until nothing was left in his hand. An almost imperceptible wave of force spread across the entire battle, multiplying the power of any magician present. Avshar himself, at the card's focal point, was no exception.
What: All the kingdoms of Dagaria gang up to tear Avshar down from the throne.
Where: Directly outside the Imperial City
Warnings: Violence, blood, death, etc
[The night before the final battle]
The various kingdoms of Dagaria have, for once, put aside their differences to march on the Capital and take down Avshar. The two armies are close enough that if you climb up a hill in the Dagarian Encampment, you can see the thousands of camp fires of Avshar's army in the distance. The nomads aren't letting you get any sleep either. Occasionally one of them will wheel his horse just out of bowshot range to shout insults or even to just give wordless shrieks of hate. Even more distracting, though, is the drums. Somehow their sound is traveling all the way here, in an endless one-two beat like the heart of a demented god. It may not be enough to distract hardened determined warriors of fame, but among common rank and file, tensions are high and men are nervous. It's also very difficult to sleep.
[The morning of the battle]
Contrasting the grim business of the day, the sun is out shining merrily, and there isn't a cloud in the sky. If anything, it looks like today is going to be uncomfortably warm.
The two armies are lined up. Avshar's forces formed in a mostly disorganized swarm, anchored on one flank by a series of forested hills that were difficult to get through, and by the ruin of a small fort that had a few archers and a large dart thrower stationed in it. The army is slightly larger than the forces arrayed against it, and there are various demonic creatures spaced throughout it, but overall it looks like the average quality of troop may be a bit lower than the opposition.
Avshar himself is leading from the very center of his army, beneath a large battle standard of Skotos' emblem. The Standard waved back and forth three times, and the army came to a halt. You can dimly hear Avshar's voice in the distance. He appears to be giving a speech to his men to raise morale right before the fight.
If any of you want to do the same thing or make any last minute confessions, now is the time to do it.
[The battle!]
Avshar's cavalry flowed towards the Dagarian army like a tide. As they got into bow range, the nomads abruptly turned aside in a huge confusing mess that none the less seemed controlled somehow. As they turned, they started firing arrows, emptying quivers as fast as they could into the Dagarian forces in a deadly hail of needle pointed arrows. Occasionally a band of Nomads would run closer to unleash a few heavier arrows that were more suited for piercing heavy armor. Thus was the battle style of the steppe nomads. Eventually arrows ran low and scimitars came out, flashing in the sun, as the nomads charged in for melee range. What their fighting lacked in military precision, it made up for in sheer ferocity.
Avshar himself stood at the back of the army for now, considering his options. He had some truly horrifying spells he knew, but if he devoted too much power to a single spell and it somehow failed, he might be in trouble. Eventually he nodded to himself, coming to a decision. Let it be something minor, for now. The Dagarians would surely see it as the forerunner of something greater and more terrible. It will make them nervous. He reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a tarot card. "For thine gifts, Skotos, I thank thee."
He crushed the card in one hand and started chanting. As he did, the card burned in a blue flame until nothing was left in his hand. An almost imperceptible wave of force spread across the entire battle, multiplying the power of any magician present. Avshar himself, at the card's focal point, was no exception.
no subject
"The God-Emperor of Mankind. The Emperor who ruled the known world and was betrayed by his own sons."
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"My Lord...you would deny us our glory? It is better to die for the Emperor than live for yourself. To hide would be cowardice."
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He looks slightly annoyed to be explaining basic tactics and troop deployment to a fellow soldier, beginning to pace a bit. "I'm not questioning your willingness to die. That's an important thing, and a valuable one. The question is about WHEN you have to die. To die in the name of the Emperor without first achieving victory is meaningless. However, if you die whilst routing your foe, you have covered yourself in glory. Best of all is to live, and win. Leave the dying to our enemy."
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Garviel moves on down the line, deeply disturbed by this conversation and the sudden reminder of the Lecticio divinitatus.