The war (a war RP)(ic)

Pull out your pack and head on down to the Prancing Pony for some great Role Playing (try to stay in character)!

Postby Quimrill_Renctar » Sat May 24, 2003 11:22 am

(@)<BR><BR>Morning broke too soon and the sun began to climb towards the sky on that first day, a day that would doubtlessly drag on and on like the many days that were sure to follow. General Cortelo’ stood outside the tent that had been erected hastily that morning on top of a low rise.<BR><BR>He carefully adjusted his leather wrist guards, tightening the straps even more. The blood circulation was nearly cut off as it was but he was not concerned with that at the moment. Off to the east rose a huge forest; his troops along with allied troops had already taken up position in there. To the west spread the Ocean. Only a few ships lined the shore behind his army, manly barges for ferrying troops into flanking positions, should he need them there. He had, had hopes that he might receive some real warships but so far none had arrived. Just so long as the orcs, and who knew what else, did not find a way to ferry their own troops in to attack his flank.<BR><BR>Spread out before him were the plains. As far as the eye could see was nothing but hills and valleys and grass, earth, and rock. What was even more depressing than all the nothing ness before him was the smoke rising off that way from the villages already pillaged and burned.<BR><BR>He had been fighting this enemy for many months now with heavy losses on both sides. Taking ground as easily as giving it, than taking it back again. It was more or less a stalemate, one Renctar knew had to end. It was here, on this land, where the bare ground was channeled through a thick wood and the Ocean that Cortelo’ now made his stand.<BR><BR>With the combined might of his forces and the forces of other who had joined him he would crush the evil ones and kill as many as he could before he stopped chasing them home.<BR><BR>He turned his gaze behind him, letting his eyes play over rank upon rank of shining steel armor and the tall pointed lances of his cavalry, as they sat straight and tall on their mounts, proud as peacocks, deadly as falcons. Before them stood the lines of his archers, each with six arrows stuck in the ground before him and one notched, they stood at ease joking with each other over the coming battle, their leather armor dull against the ground making them almost blur into the landscape.<BR><BR>Cortelo’ nodded his satisfaction. These were his men and they were ready to fight. The other that had joined him had their armies similarly deployed. While none came near to reaching his in size he could see the skill and determination were it was and were it wasn’t. These were all brave men, whether they marched under the Red Hawk of his banner or one of the many others that flapped in the morning’s breeze.<BR><BR>He turned back to survey his battleground. Before him stood the bulk of his army on the plains. The swordsmen stood about nonchalantly talking among themselves while the spearmen and halberdiers checked their stocks and points, making sure all was ready for the up coming battle. They stood in massive columns, blanketing the ground before him a considerable distance out and from shore to wood fringe.<BR>He had other troops in the woods; ready for any flanking maneuver the enemy might try. Cortelo’ was fairly confident that at least he held the edge in the forest were his archers had already made themselves in ambush and hid in trees to harass any who tried to pass through, and a goodly number of swordsmen lay in wait also in the dark wood.<BR><BR>Heaving another sigh Cortelo’ strode the three paces to where his horse stood patiently waiting and swung up onto his back. He straightened his cloak and tried again to steady his breathing. All there lives depended on him, his decisions would decide how many made it home alive. Digging his heals in he urged his mount down among the ranks of the foots soldiers. As always he would lead the charge, he was their general and the general’s place was at the front of his army.<BR><BR>When he was less than halfway down the slope to the front of the ranks the horn sounded. The lowed shrill ring of a scout’s trumpet sounded again and again, coming closer and closer. Suddenly about a dozen mounts flew over the ridge of the next hill and plunged down into the valley that separated the two. The men on their backs put all their lungs into blowing their horns as they neared the front lines. Their horses in lather and themselves exhausted they plunged through the files of men and cut a strait line to were the Red Falcon banner waved.<BR><BR>Cortelo’ reached his own banner only moments before the first of his scouts did.<BR><BR>“Report!”<BR><BR>“Sir, they’re coming, they’re coming no…”<BR><BR>The scouts report was cut off as a bellow cut the silence that had suddenly settled on the men. Another horn, this one deeper and raspy, sounded somewhere over the next hill. Again there came the bellow and Cortelo’ thought he saw something move on the adjoining hill.<BR><BR>Suddenly a black figure strode out atop the hill and stood there looking at his army. Then another black figure joined him, than another, than another, than ten more, then thirty, than a hundred. Rank upon rank of black beasts topped the ridge and spilled out in to cover the slopes of the opposite hill with their vileness.<BR><BR>Cortelo’ felt his stomach clench as he tried to estimate their numbers. More than he had expected, but then, it was always more than he expected and they kept coming. Suddenly the black mass on the opposite hill stopped moving. A deadly quiet settled across the wide valley. No body moved, nobody breathed.<BR><BR>“Soldier get back to the camp and make yourself ready, join us when you can,” Cortelo’ said in a firm voice, “I need you strong, not exhausted right now”<BR><BR>“Sir”<BR><BR>The scouts rode off back through the ranks, pushing their mounts to get clear of the foot soldiers and the charge that would inevitably come. Cortelo’ with his band of personally picked elite guards holding the Red Hawk banner made there way to the front and halted facing the enemy. Now came the wait. Which side would break and charge first, which side would take the brunt of the others archer fire? Cortelo’ knew the orcs would, they were not very patient and even if they were there was no way Cortelo’ would order his men into that slaughter until he had no other choice.<BR><BR>Then it happened, a lowed trumpet blasted and was echoed along the line of the black mass. Then like a mighty Ocean swell it swept down the into the valley.<BR><BR>“AT FOUR HUNDRED YARDS! FIRST VOLLEY! CAPTIANS ON MY MARK!” Cortelo’ yelled over his shoulder and heard the order getting passed along for safety sake. He watched as the mass grew closer, individuals beginning to solidify into single soldiers. He judged it at 425 meters and yelled, “FIRE!”<BR><BR>There was the snapping of a thousand branches and the hissing of a thousand angry bees. Watching straight ahead he saw the storm fall. The rain of death reduced the first ranks to a mass of rolling bodies, which were trampled by the ones behind. A few casualties were spread out in the ranks as well.<BR><BR>“SECOND VOLLEY FIRE!” He yelled at the top of his lungs and the destructions was repeated, this time in the thick of the on coming horde. Soldiers screamed and fell as white, and red-feathered arrow found their marks. Quickly Cortelo’ ordered a third and fourth volley, the arrow raking the oncoming army father back as they passed underneath the deadly hail.<BR><BR>“ONE FINAL VOLLEY ON MY MARK! 300 YARDS IN! THEN MOVE UP AND FIRE AT WILL!” General Cortelo’ weighted only a moment, “FIRE!”<BR><BR>A final volley cut into the leading ranks bringing down the front-runners, etching a straight line of living from dead at its leading bulk. The wounded were trampled along with the dead and churned into the dirt.<BR><BR>“HOLD! ON MY MARK! READY CHARGE!” Cortelo’ unsheathed his long curved saber and lifted it high. All eyes were on him as he waited. The enemy army hit the uphill slope bellow him, “CHAAARRRGE!”<BR><BR>He kicked his horse into motion in simultaneous action with his elite guard. His ranks swelled and broke formation as his soldiers sprinted down the hill, spear out front, swords behind ready to jump in over the first chaos.<BR><BR>Suddenly the back third of the oncoming horde stopped. The remaining force kept on at a run up the hill, 100 yards. Suddenly Cortelo’ heard the heart stopping sound of hundreds of wasps as a black wave of arrows whined from the bow strings of hundreds of orc archers.<BR><BR>“SHIELDS!” Cortelo’ screamed, though he knew his voice would only be heard by those closest to him over the sound of the running feet. vaguely he heard his order being echoed, and here and there a shield was pointed at the sky.<BR><BR>The black hornets crashed into his ranks bringing down troops in death screams and missing others. Cortelo’ had a shield suddenly thrust in front of him and heard the dull thunk of two black feathered arrows as they imbedded themselves into its center. The shield was withdrawn and the charge went own, 25 yards.<BR><BR>He could plainly see individual snarling faces, full of hate and lust. Black swords and axes whirled in a mad frenzy, spears shuck in armored fists. 10 yards.<BR><BR>Suddenly the spears went down and man and beast both put their weight behind their weapons for the meeting. There was a resounding clap like thunder that echoed on and on as the armies met. The blood chilling rowers of orc mixed with the higher screams of men to complete the crescendo of the symphony of battle joined…<BR><BR><BR>(This is the good side post right now, I'll post the bad side later, but anybody who wants to go ahead and play on the bad side right now feal free)<BR>
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Quimrill_Renctar
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Postby Quar-Elvanaere » Sat May 24, 2003 1:07 pm

(!*!)<BR>Quar-Elvanaere had stayed up all night worrying about her decision, and even now she wasn't sure she was in the right. But it was too late now, she knew that as she rode over the hill and saw before her the other army. Her long black hair waved behind her in the wind and the light of the sun was lost in her black eyes. She held the reins of her black steed tightly in her hands, her already ivory skin turning whiter. Fear was not something her soldiers needed to see, so she shut it behind a brave mask. She pulled out her sword and raised it high in the air, signaling her troops to charge. Three volleys of arrows took down many, but the orcs continued onward like an eternal mass of black waters. Quar-Elvaneare headed straight for one of the spears, thinking about simply impaling herself on it for a moment. Instead she lowered herself on her horse and came beneath it. She grasped it and twisted it around, taking it from the man and impaling him on it.
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Quar-Elvanaere
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Postby Quimrill_Renctar » Wed May 28, 2003 11:52 pm

<BR>(@)<BR><BR>Cortelo’ grimaced at the sound of metal meeting metal and rending it, the clash of steel on steel and the sickening sound of flesh being parted. He swung at the hideous face that appeared next to his horse and it dissolved with the rest into the teaming battlefield.<BR><BR>Already a good deal of the grass was slick with blood and everywhere he looked body’s lay in grotesque positions of death. All this, and more, slid along the edges of his consciousness. He was the commander of everything that brought hope to his people and he could not let his emotions catch up with him until it was over.<BR><BR>He and his Elite guard waded into the sea of milling black and shining mail. He struck furiously at anything that did not glint, cutting down foes left and right as they sot his life. He was obviously and officer and as such many went for him. He was hard prest to keep them from him. The protective ring of steel that had hemmed him was now spread out in a web in the near vicinity giving them all room to fight as they needed, though one shout from him would bring all 27 of them at a run to guard him and force their way back to the friendly lines.<BR><BR>Cortelo’ was already near the edge of his own troops. In a ragged line from left to right on either side of him, men fought men and orc trying to keep the enemy in front of them and drive them back. In front of him there was the occasional pocket of men fighting desperately against the teaming mass the flowed around them. All too often they only lasted seconds before the overwhelming press of bodies and steel took them under. Every once in a while more troops would detach from the line and strike out into the black roiling mass and meat the same fate, occasionally a group of men would become aware of what had happened and try to force their way back. Often to late, though sometime they made it, though only to turn around and keep fighting.<BR><BR>Cortelo’ found himself wondering Idly how it would end this time, would he fall back or would they. He had already inflicted heavy damages in the first few moments but orcs were surprisingly resilient and numerous. He slashed open the chest of a warg as it whizzed past and continued fighting…<BR><BR><BR>
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Postby Quimrill_Renctar » Sun Jun 01, 2003 8:09 pm

(!*!)<BR><BR>General Rothfallin surveyed his legions and felt the sweet tingle of satisfaction in the back of his mind. They were fighting orcs, every single one of them. Bread for the day they would cut down every last man that opposed them in the world. He felt no direct love for them, on the contrary he hated them. Hated them as he hated himself. Orcs were not lovely creatures and he had come to accept this. They were hideously misshapen beasts, but that is what they were. And in that they were also perfection.<BR><BR>They were made for battle, made to be the endless tidal way that would smash the cities and nations to rubble. The ultimate breed of violence, crafted by the dark powers themselves. Rothfallin took some comfort in that. They had been chosen, not men, they. They were not so much a product of hideous chance but they were made this way for a purpose; their lives most assuredly had purpose. A narrow purpose granted but when was the last time an Orc had ever killed himself? Never, all worked towards the common goal of eradicating those that dared try to stop the dark power they served.<BR><BR>And here he stood above them. One of the largest Orc armies ever assembled, with more joining them everyday. He General Rothfallin, controlled the might of that army. He decided who would feel the orc’s wrath and would live. For sure he received his orders from the dark lord, but they had been to simply take middle earth for him. How was completely open, a unset course lay before them and Rothfallin stood at the helm.<BR><BR>From were he stood on a small rise in the vast sea of dark he could see his brethren. Ragged column upon ragged column of stooped and straight figures fingering long pikes and straight hooked swords. Rough Iron shields strapped to many and army showed dents and scores from many battle of the past. Assorted bones hanging from clothing and belts showed trophies collected from those battle fields.<BR><BR>He himself did not take trophies, they hampered him in battle, he thought. The only trophy he wanted would be his last. The head of the human General, Cortelo’, was all he desired and once he took that, the resistance for the most part would be over he was sure.<BR>Among his own troops, standing in groups and straighter ranks, were a scattering of other races and independent groups that had joined the army of night in their quest; those that had sworn allegiance to the dark lord, at least for a time. He did not care for them and they did not care for him either, but all that didn’t matter. It was the purpose that drove them all.<BR><BR>A fellow orc loped towards him, coming to a halt about five paces down the hill.<BR><BR>“My lord general,” It began, “The reinforcements sent from the dark mountains have arrived and are waiting your command”<BR><BR>“good, tell them to from up and prepare to march,” Rothfallin growled, “I wish to be on the way within the hour, our scouts tell me our foe already waits for us”<BR><BR>“Yes, lord general,” The orcs scampered off down the hill to a group of five others that stood arguing amongst themselves. When he arrived they stopped and listened to him, then began shouting at the messenger.<BR><BR>The orc, which had reported to Rothfallin, shrugged and answered and all eyes turned to Rothfallin. When they saw him watching they quickly lowered their heads and ran off in the direction of their ranks. Rothfallin knew that his reinforcements had been probably marching for the better part of a week to reach when they did and were most likely tired. That did not concern him at the moment, however, all he wanted was to get to battle.<BR><BR>Waiting another 25 minutes of so, judging by the sun, he turned and let out a bellow. Immediately the individual ranks came into sharp focus and beast and man alike came to attention. He cast one more glance over them, noting his first battle formation already in place at the front of his army.<BR><BR>He had already set up his first offensive formation for the oncoming battler, that way he could simply charge them into battle without having to slow for more than a couple minutes. His first force consisted of several ranks of regular foot soldiers. He had ordered his officers to shove most of those that carried spears towards the front and the swords behind them. <BR><BR>An orc did not necessarily carry the weapon that best suited them. They were born with a hybrid sense of instinct to hate man and to kill. Place a weapon in his hand and he would use it almost instinctively. Very little training was given to orcs in the actual use of their weapons. Very little was needed. Actual experience is what taught the majority of orcs.<BR><BR>Behind the ranks of regular foot soldiers came about half as many orcs outfitted with long bows and shafts. He would rush his troops upon the humans then fire into their ranks when they were occupied fighting his hand to hand soldiers. He may loose some of his own but what did it matter? He had more.<BR><BR>He bellowed once again and the ranks moved forward at a walk. Once Rothfallin was sure all were moving he bellowed once more and the pace was set at a jog. Two hours and he would be there…<BR><BR> * * *<BR> <BR>Two hours later he topped a rise and stared down at the shining ranks laid out before him. Behind him his army waited impatiently for their general to give them the order to die, to fight, to win, to loose. It matter little what they did, just so long as they killed or died killing. Rothfallin waited only a few minutes to be sure everybody was in place that should be, then he howled at the sky and the black wave thundered past him.<BR><BR>His first assault force thundered down the hill and was shortly after peppered by arrows, but they hardly faltered and ran straight on. Again and again his forces were whittled down but he didn’t even flinch. He had more, lots more, this battle had barely begun. Right on time his archers held back and loosed their black shafts into the human ranks. Rothfallin strained to hear, from back on the hill were he stood, the screams of the humans as they fell. Ah! Sweat blissful sound.<BR><BR>The armies met and battle was joined. Now it was his turn and the rest of his army and those that had joined him. He sounded a blast on his trumpet then charged down the hill himself, his sword in front of him. He didn’t need to look behind him or hear the thunder to know the rest of his brothers were there with him…<BR><BR><BR>
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Quimrill_Renctar
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Postby Quimrill_Renctar » Tue Jun 17, 2003 3:36 pm

Alright! Everything is more or less set up to begin! Battle here and have a good time, any question you have feel free to ask me on the ooc, or at the camp...<BR><BR>^_^
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Quimrill_Renctar
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Postby Astalder » Sat Jun 21, 2003 8:34 pm

Sorry i realized this probably wasnt the one to post in as it was more about the camp than the war itself
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