(no subject)

[revanisms]

Who: Those who are a part of the ground forces here.
What: Pre-battle and during battle fights against firedrakes, their mounts, and their camp.
When: June 14th-15th our time
Where: Raider Camp in the West
Warnings: All the things that come with action movies; blood, violence, cursing, etc

[Remember the plan laid out here. Revan will hold a briefing once all forces are gathered to make sure various groups know what to do in the fight without stepping on the toes of everyone else. He's looking for cooperation, not big-damn-hero syndrome. You know what you need to do so get to it.]

Comments

Battle Proper

[revanisms]

[You're up early and the other guys certain know you're here but....]

FIRE!

[Revan opens the stage with an artillery bombardment on the camp so the vanguard forces can take advantage of the confusion. In the meantime, the rest of his army of beastmen are preparing for mounted fliers, wielding massive bows with nasty looking arrows that are tied off to rope. Yeah, they're going to do this beastman style.]

Re: Battle Proper

[formerly_known_as_prince]

[Utena's been crouching in the dirt for hours and her calves burn like riftfire. In her black copper armor, packed with a soaked undershirt and breeches, she feels sweaty and bloated....until the first pieces of artillery crash and boom and splinter among the rider camp and their morning routine is replaced by spiking adrenaline, swords drawn.

She sprints from her hiding place, and as she gains acceleration, she seems to gain something else. She's thinking of the villages that the raiders burned, the weeping of peasants. Her sword seems to be brighter, and soon she's bright too, blindingly so in the anemic rays of dawn.

She thinks of hovels on fire and the first dragonrider is down before his sword is even all the way drawn, what was supposed to be a parry turning into a chop that bites into his wrist. He brings his arm up in disbelief to stare at the hand that now hangs by a useless strip of mangled bone and skin from his wrist. Blood spurts his tied beard and another slash opens his carotid. She's moving and parrying the next one now and blindingly bright. Everything around her feels slow and archetypal, as if the whole battle were a tale told long ago and her opponents are faceless minions with no name. She grapples with one, trips him to the ground and stomps on his head, to propel herself into a lunge that drops her weight and that of the edge of her sword onto a third rider.

Anyone who can sense magic will feel it radiating off of her in heavy waves.]

Re: Battle Proper

[greyerrant]

Crusade company, forward! [ Loken points the way with drawn Gladius, letting the heavily armored and armed infantry troopers that make up the majority of the company file into ranks at his side. ]

[revanisms]

[Revan sticks with his artillery but as Garviel's men move forward, he ushers some men up, all carrying multiple flags. They're there to communicate with the force hanging behind, to warn of any incoming forces.]