83rd of Ashan 722
The wagon wheels turned with nary a squeak as they barreled down the wintry road, to a nearby coastal village. The heavy draft horses pulling it along were well suited to the task of treading the snow, and managed admirably against the weather. Lorogh sat, satisfied in himself that he'd oiled the wheels well enough that they didn't make a sound. He'd made himself an invaluable part of his unit, though he was short of stature, and his sergeant had come to rely upon him.
His unit of soldiers had been recalled to Winter's Reach, not a few dozen days after arriving in Carhyst. There were rumors of the old government in that wintry domain rising again. Of tribal warrirors raiding the coast. As soon as the news arrived, raised by the alarm of the naval forces in the area, they'd called for reinforcements. Lorogh and his unit of siege specialists were part of that wave of reinforcements. There was also rumors that they'd be needed on the Volcanic Region as well. But that could wait until later. For now, his fellow soldiers and he were tasked with shoring up the defenses along the coast.
Lorogh only hoped they would arrive at their destination, and be left with enough time to improve the defenses before they had to garrison them.
One of the soldiers, an axe-wielding lass, who they all called battleax, piped up to speak, "They say that the chieftain leading these coastal raiders had his face split in two, and still lives. Can you imagine how ugly he must be?"
Lorogh winced at the colorful imagery her description conjured, but he doubted it somehow. Yet he'd seen little of battle, and the scars it could leave. His unit had yet to see much action while he'd been with them, and there were few enough veterans among the lower ranks. Most of those were promoted by virtue of tenure and service and merit. So he supposed the more scars one had, perhaps the more qualified one was to be an officer. If so, the image of that split-faced raider king would've been fit to be a monarch. Lorogh was mostly quiet, along the wagon ride, as another soldier chime din. This one was equipped with a sword and shield, much like Lorogh. Most of them were, in fact, wearing the standard issue military equipment. "I hear he drinks from the skulls of sergeants he's beheaded. They even say he sacked a small garrison along the border with Avaern!"
Lorogh sighed, "I think you overestimate our enemy. We'll just have to do our best, and fight like the professionals we are! We disciplined Imperials are every match for the unwashed raiders that steal and sneak around when everyone is asleep..."
Lorogh crossed his arms, waiting for the wagon to roll onwards to their destination.
A loud whinny was heard then, from the front of their carriage. And the clopping of horse hooves along the path. These were not belonging to the draft horses! His hackles properly raised, Lorogh unslung his shield and drew his sword, and peered over the rim of the shield beyond the front of the wagon. There, he saw them, horned helmets of fur and steel, weilding flails and axes. Their horses looked malnourished. Yet the men had a feircesome aspect. Lorogh couldn't deny that he felt slightly intimidated by them. At least a little.
He gulped.
The men shouted in accented common, a mishmash of atvian and the common tongue, "Get from tha wagon. We are here to tax."
Lorogh looked at the other privates in his wagon, left to right. Where was the Sergeant and his horsemen? They nodded to each other nevertheless. Two crossbowmen took up position at the rear of the wagon, shooting their bolts into the flanks of the horses, narrowly missing the raiders themselves. The horses, shocked by the sudden wounds, went berserk, bucking the raiders from their seats. Unfortunate for the soldiers, this did not seem to harm the raiders, as they got up right after the horses bolted.
"You give your horses now! Your gold, your steel!"
Lorogh and his fellows shook their heads, and rushed out of the wagon, to take up position. They each formed a fighting pair, between them. Lorogh teaming with Battleax, while the other four circled around the wagon, holding position for just a moment while they took stock of their surroundings. This left them at the disadvantage, as ceding the initiative left them vulnerable to the first strike of the coastal raiders.
One of them, a flail-wielding wildling, raved at Lorogh, causing the cadouri's ears to peel back, as he furrowed his brow. "I vill drink from you skull!"
Lorogh held his shield up, and let out his best battlecry he could manage at that moment, "EEEK!" And then the flail fell upon his shield. It was a challenge to counter the flail, and account for its flexible chain. The weapon wheeled around in the air, this way and that, unpredictable in its arc as he tried to provide cover for Battleax. "EEEK!" The flail hit his shield again, this time nearly clipping the mantle of his chain coif. That had done it for Lorogh, and he was finished hiding behind his shield. He strode forward, and began stabbing blindly at the bandit raider. "EEEEK! EEEK!" He screeched.
Battleax was not far behind him, moving to flank the raider with her large two-handed ax. The rest of the company seemed to be fully engaged now, as more raiders came out of the nearby woods to surround them. At a quick glance, it appeared tehy were outnumbered, but he couldn't be sure in the heat of battle, and couldn't quite count them as he was concentrating on the flail-wielding maniac in front of him.
"Eeek!" He screeched, keeping his shield close to his chest, and above his head, as it was the easiest target for the much taller raider. The raider kicked at the shield as it deflected the flail, and then dislodged Lorogh's grip on the shield. It fell to the ground, and he was now armed only with his sword. Panicking for just a moment, he nevertheless began hacking away at the raider's leg. "EEEEK!"
His blade found purchase in the hide armor covering the raider's leg. A gout of fresh blood spilled from it, as the steel dug deep into the tendons. This brought the flailing man low, low enough for Battleax to finish him with a cleave to the back of the neck.
Yet, Lorogh didn't have time to pick up his shield, before someone was attacking his comrade from behind. The raider approached with a falchion, intent on cleaving her from behind. Lorogh pushed beyond her, his ears flattened against his skull as he let another warscreech fly, "EEEEEEEEK!"
Shink!
Splatter
His wild thrust found purchase in the raider's thigh, causing another gout of blood from that one fly from his artery, onto the snows that they all tread. The heady excitement of battle began to fray Lorogh's nerves as he looked wildly around him. Raiders and soldiers engaged each other. Battleax had finished off the flailing man's struggles, nearly decapitating him with her axe.
Lorogh's chest heaved up and down as he bolted toward his fallen shield, then picked it back up by the strap. He held it, and just in time to counter an incoming sword thrust from one of the other raiders. It was an amorphous, chaotic mess, was battle. And Lorogh couldn't rightly say he was prepared for it. He only reacted as best he could, with a block here, a sword thrust there, and an EEK all around.
He must have put down the next raider, because he felt still alive as the sound of heavier hooves fell upon the snow. The Sergeant's familiar horn blew, as they arrived to join the fray, and relieve the wagon full of seige supplies of their attackers. Soon the battle was over, but it would stay with Lorogh for nights on end, until he arrived at their destination, some days later...
