Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Early-Mid Ashan
The a trade road north of Middlecleft

The representatives of Turkey Company’s a-team lined up single file, mounted on horseback. They donned their war garbs and banners. All armor was crafted in the classical fashion; a dark cobalt hue lined with brown fur, broad brimmed steel cap with black plumage. Black to designate mourning. Two banners upon one spear were unfurled that day, the Turkey seal and a burning Tunawa.

“Niv is dead,” A moustache fluttered as proffered words were uttered by the commander. Thick shadows upon the humid air covered the commander’s face with. Despite his macabre tone of voice and gloomy appearance, the bright blue fire in his eyes shone with passionate willpower. The flower on his helmet was not their today, but he was still armored to teeth — literally— the colbalt coif would cover all his face except for his eyes.

The men tightened their straps and settled in as best as they could. For one or two of them, today would be their first day in battle; young recruits who had proven dedicated and eager to workout their sword arms. Many of them were army vets, men who had trouble transitioning back into civilian life, so they decided to once again take up their swords for Etzos as career peacekeepers. Still yet one or two of them were true zealots in the making, electing to use every opportunity to hone their skills in the field. Every single one of these dozen men who lined up behind Gangui had a different background, but they all had one thing in common: they were Etzori patriots and lovers of liberty.

Truly to love liberty one must also allow for all people’s freedom, even tyrants.

“We gather here today under the banner of the Burning Tunawa in order to take revenge against a tyrant for the murder of the innocent,” Gangui finally began when everyone looked ready to rumble. He paced back and forth on his horse, but he didn’t yell lest he alert the enemies of their intentions.

“I expect you all to proceed professionally today in the field,” the commander said curtly. “We are to be a burning hot knife in the hand of a master craftsman, not a loose cannon defier or bloodthirsty savages. Look for the burning Tunawa should you become discombobulated or confused in the chaos. We will be disengaging and re-engaging quite a bit today boys,”

The commander drew his bastard sword and swung his horse around to face the road that laid at the bottom of the hill, “Put them in the dirt, put them their first,” Gangui interatted the obvious, “Gammok Tyrannos, gammok Athanthos, gammok Al’Angyryl,”

Silently Gangui urged the horseback posse down the hill.

8:35AM
The aftermath of the initial charge.

“Water!” Gangui roared between his heaving breaths. His helmet was nowhere to be seen. One of the apprentice kids ran up and thrust a water skin into a gauntleted hand. Three squires trailed the Burning Tunawa banner and helped with the labor, but did not fight.

A bright red trickle from above his right eye and was leaking into his beard. His face was red and full of sweat. Bringing the flask to his lips immediately drank the whole flash in a few ticks. The squire had already anticipated the next order and shoved a flask of wine into his hand. From this he only took a long swig, before throwing it at the kid, who caught it.

As the squire left Gangui’s presence, his two lieutenants approached. They held their black plumbed helms under arm (one of them was caked with blood). Son of Hud, and Etzori zealot born and raised in the military, fighting in the contested lands between Lissara’s domain and Etzori settlements. Hudson’s face was smudged black, perhaps some type of wagon grease.

“Where are they?” Mustachio’s whiskers fluttered.

“They took off northeast,” Hudson pointed, “There is only one way they could have fled, east around the ridge. All else is folly,”

The squire hurried back with a little metal frame, which he opened on the muddy floor. Grabbing a flat piece of wood from under his armpit he placed it on the tiny frame. Gangui pushed the kid away, with a devilish glare, “You forgot the map!” The squire ran away.

The commanders blue eyes locked back with his lieutenants, “We are mounting up in 10!”As they waited for the map, he took a taste of the wine then passed it to his sworn men. They both took great drinks, smiling in the process. This too brought a smile to Gangui’s face, “I see you are ready to continue,”

Aye, they were momentarily tired, but they would be good to go after some time riding. But being tired was only a small detail: morale of the troops. And by the looks on their faces it was high.

The initial charge was a smashing success. Reaching the bottom of the hill, they formed a twelve man triangle and galloped against those whom had murdered Niv. Gangui lead the charge at the top of the point. Completely caught unaware, three Al’Angryel men were immediately rode down, trampled into chunks of beef, before being spit behind the onslaught of hooves.

To the highwaymen’s credit they reacted quickly. Already some of them where fleeing. Gangui dismounted and cleaved a man in half with all his rage. All the time yelling for Noth to show himself while he fough. The chaos was relatively tame from the Turkey perspective. Black plumbed zealots began chasing those who ran away, whilst riding down those who were not fast enough to find this horses.

One man seemed to linger on though, almost as if he was waiting for the last straggler to make it out. Gangui had locked eyes with him...

When the map finally arrived, Gangui’s mind clicked, “Their captain is the dark haired bearded one. He wields a sword and he clearly has a shred of nobility in his veins,”

“We killed 7 of them and took one man prisoner,” Hudson began whilst focusing on the map and pointing at the ridge, “They are fleeing north,”

His finger ran along the details of the map. The road looped around the mountain range, which seemed to be a 5 miles trek as the crow flies. The roads were shown too; There was a fork in the road on the north side of the ridge (the scrimmage having been taken place on the south side). Once they passed ridge, the main road continued northwest. A smaller road, on the other hand, ran northeast.

“Hmmm…”

The burning tunawa banner remained unfurled under the golden turkey as blue fields flapped in the wind. The forest was thick and humid and hot. Life crawled everywhere and sweat gleaned on the skins of the warriors.

Commander Gangui and his small troop of zealots proceed north along the road. Men of valor, their mind was entirely focused on victory. They left the Al’Angyryl prisoner chained up with the squires who towed their camping supplies in the rear; he might turn out to be useful as a hostage in the games to come.

Both the AA and SoJ forces were small and equally matched. Every man counted. Neither group could afford to lose a single warrior. Each life in the upcoming struggle represented a key point towards victory. There would be no blatant head-on charge anymore. It was time to execute guerilla warfare.

Their plan was simple: keep AA forces running for their life as long as possible. By positioning their men on the east side of the road, they hoped to push their enemies north and west. Gangui reckoned that they would run north if they were smart. Alternatively they could assault them back, or even climb the ridge. He needed to see how they reacted before making a more informed tactical decision. With such small guerilla scrimmages, nerves where steeled and tough plans were decided on the fly.

One break later. Several miles north of the initial massacre, on the eastern tip of the ridge.

Trotting at a brisk pace, Gangui stood up in his saddle and motioned over to his lieutenant Hudson. The twelve knights were spread out in the trees as they traveled, but not so far apart they couldn’t communicate. They didn’t need to speak much to do so either. When the armored knight with black plumage got close enough they exchanged familiar glances.

No signs of AA. No signs of life other than the buzzing insects. They stopped momentarily.

“We need to push more maybe?” Gangui suggested. The turkey men where protecting the eastern perimeter of the road and ensuring they didn’t travel that way, but there were no signs of them yet.

Two trials later

Black plumes adorned upon steely hats waved slowly in the sweltering heat; summer had come early. They rode at a slow pace. Gangui swayed calmly in the saddle, armor chinking despite the relaxed pace that they had taken. The only respite to their pursuit being the buzzing insects and hooting hollering of birds.

The Burning Tunawa still remained focused on their goal of killing the troop of Al’Angyryl. Their moral endurance was strong thanks to Gangui’s persistent pursuit of justice; Noth had burned Niv alive and balance needed to be achieved. In the commander’s opinion, Noth’s life was enough payment for the murder, however, until he could wrap steely gauntlets around a feathery neck, a dozen of his minions would suffice.

Many miles were between them and the initial massacre on the road north of Middlecleft, yet no party had dared to advance. Gangui would chase them all the way to the Southwood River before making any moves; he was in it for the long haul. The band of squires following behind were laden with supplies, making it easy survive in the wilderness.

All along the ridge, Gangui followed them. The burning banner leading the procession through the Etzori wilderness. Al’Angyryl didn’t want to fight. The warrior chortled to himself, yelling randomly curses towards the black bearded leader. None of the Turkeys commented on his outbursts, knowing full well that their commander was crazy with revenge in his heart.

“Gammok Al’Angyryl!” He would burst out to remind his men the finality of their mission.

It would only be a matter of time before the two groups would engage. The only question being: who would break chase first, the Sons of Justice or Al’Angyryl?

According to his lieutenants, AA couldn’t wait much longer. They were fleeing north along the ridge. The rocky terrain did not slow them down, however their horses would be working harder than the Sons’. As the line of black dots traveled along the hills, the zealots shadowed them at the foot of the range. Consistently they drove north towards the Southwood, remaining within horn-blow of each other; neither party lost sight of the other either.

Many breaks later. Evening.

The two troops battled well into the afternoon. The bright sun sank low in the sky before they both had enough and called it quits.

Al’ Angyly took first strike by barreling down the ridge in full charge. Dust was kicked up behind them in a tornado of fury. The sound of clomping hooves before the first contact of the day still gave Gangui that goosepimple feeling of excitement -- the same feeling the morn of his first battle when he was but a wee-lad -- This euphoric feeling was reignited when the boys rounded up in victory after a long day out on the field.

“Good Work!” Gangui bellowed as they trotted back towards the “rear-guard” -- a few squires hauling the gear and prisoners out of AA’s line of sight.

The day’s scrimmage had taken place on a ten mile stretch of land. Whilst the charge was meant to decimate the Sons of Justice in a single fell haymaker of a move, it became quickly apparent to the anti-freedom boys that patriots were bigger, faster, and stronger than any other opponent that they had dared to battle in the field. Heavy armor, focus, and zealous intent was like a magic power on the field; their mustached commander raising the energy and pace of the combat with his mere presence alone.

Alas their single charge did in fact mange to take down three of the Turkey zealots, leaving the Burning Tunawa revenge posse with only 9 men plus Gangui.

“Indeed,” the mustachio's whiskers quivered as he bellowed to the men as they were trotting north almost in sight of their rear guard, “We started off terribly, but pushed through and came out on top,”

What Gangui was referring to was to what happened after the initial charge: the ten mile long chase north up the valley basin. Being that it was only two, small, mounted forces against another, the flow of the scrimmage went as follows: engage, reposition, and engage. During this process, the Sons of Justice kept on positioning themselves north, but mostly east of AA. They did this in order to cut off any escape towards the Southwood River. Gangui knew that as long as he kept them on the west side of no-man’s land, he would be victorious.

“We put more of their men into the dirt too!” Gangui bellowed with a smile, whipping the dust from his eyes. During the day long scrimmage, they continuously picked off AA men one at a time. One AA coward was even foolish enough to try to run away from the scene. He was quickly impaled by the SoJ outrider.

In the end, they killed four Bloody Hand goons, leaving AA with only 8 men plus Ryder.
In the evening.

The winds of change blew around them and it felt good.

The Sons of Justice rested their horses and made camp in a huddled circle, taking turns watching no man's land for Al' Angyryl movement. Barely visible they could see where Ryder and his men rested. Three of their men had died and a squire was sent back to retrieve their bodies. The Turkeys never left a man behind. Those whom had given their lives for the cause would be buried back in Foster's Landing.

"Didja see their leader's blade?" one of the men mentioned as he chewed on his sustenance of biscuits and meat.

Gangui chugged some water'd wine, red fluid trickling down his face. Indeed he had remembered their black-bearded leader very well. During the initial charge and each engagement thereafter, Gan had locked eyes with this man, but not yet blades.

"Aye, it was blinding sharp. Special stuff, I says," Hudson chimed in.

"Forget his blade!" Gangui wiped his face after a spurt of anger, "When the time is right," he promised, "I'll cut down their black faced leader myself. The free market curse his blade!"

There was an eerie silence, but none dared question Gan's statement. With that, the commander stood up and walked towards the cold side of the camp simply to kick the AA prisoner in the stomach, "Here that, you and all your men are dead,"

The tyrant's underlying smiled and spit some mumbled curse in Ith'ession.