S
SSpepe
Guest
Relic Wars : The Raid
A short story about the last few days.. to be updated
accounts real(ish) cant really remember some accounts and just writing creatively really. its only a short story folks... just enjoy if possible
The Raid
Pepe wrapped his cloak tighter around himself and looked down the hill towards enemy territory. His breath made a silent cloud through which he saw two if not three enemy stealthers, warp in and out of existence only a few spans away. Blood thirsty shadowblades stalked their prey with little mercy and even less pity. Nightshades were no better. And a ranger could hit home at one hundred paces away and be gone before you could say the word "nerf".
The friar awaited reports from the frontier. Enemy strength and morale was increasing and some said that they were marching toward Bledmeer, A Midgardian keep held by Albion since the Great Relic War of 404. A dark time for albionites everywhere. Not only had the Midgardian hordes the element of surprise, but they also denied the right to a fair and open confrontation. Moving swiftly in the early morning fog they pounced upon the defences of Hadrians Wall, Pennine Mountains and Forest Sauvage. Most died unhonourably in their beds, whilst others never even knew the battle had taken place. Until it was too late. Albion awoke to ruin and grievence. Loved ones of guards who had fallen, cried bitter tears and cursed the cowards who took them. And so it had been. The ones left behind took up arms and swore to avenge their kin, replacing the defences and standing proud in name of fallen family.
Pepe tugged at his cloak again as if to try make it fit around him more. But there was no more. This was not a warming blanket but a garment worn for only one purpose, to present his guild colours in battle. The friar was cold. Long since had he been in front of a large fire or had proper rations. He muttered to himself as a fresh and proud Paladin ran headstrong down the hill crying out his family name. only to be cut down mercilessly within seconds of reaching the enemy line. What foolishness, what waste. Albionites were beginning to grow weary and most did not even listen to reason anymore. Battle after battle they fought and lost to superior enemy troops. They were tired and they needed something to hope for again.
Suddenly, a minstrel broke through the trees at the bottom of the hill, immediatly stirring the stealther line. They knocked their arrows and prepared to shoot. Others ran towards him to block his only path up. As quickly as they had started they stopped, dropping their weapons to their sides and seemingly looking blankly into the distance. With that, the minstrel simply ran through them to safety. Pepe smiled as if he expected nothing less. After a moment he noticed the stealthers had once again gone into shadow and he turned to walk back into the keep. He welcomed the messenger and directed him through the large gates and toward the south wall. There his news would be heard.
Pepe eyes widened as he was told the true reports of Odins Gate. Over one hundred mids had marched on to Bledmeer and was attacking as they spoke. Nightpetal, a Reaver of the society and a friend was under siege there. They were outnumbered but holding firm. Something had to be done now. If Albion could hold Bledmeer and the mids defeated, it could be the sign everybody was looking for. The light at the end of a long and dark tunnel. There was no time to lose. Word of this must be sent to the high command and re-inforcments sent at once.
Time flowed by slowly until at last, the first of the re-inforcements arrived. Sent from Albion by the power of Mages. Groups were formed with haste and nobody was left to face Odins solo. Soon there was over three full groups of hardened and ready troops. All wearing the colours of their guilds and holding their weapons true and steady. Thorin, an infiltrator was spearheading the assault. His words carried as he relayed the orders. To Bledmeer with all possible haste and to victory. The cry of steel and battle songs echoed in the narrow valley as the units raced down the hill. A nightshade appeared to the north-east and retreated but it was no match for the magic speed of one group and was soon dispatched. A similar fate to four other enemy stealthers it seemed. The Albion groups did not stay long, they quickly re-formed and headed towards the milegate to the east.
With all the Mids at Bledmeer it seemed unlikely they would even bother with this milegate. But it was not the mids they had to worry about. A hibernian attack squad of ten was camping there and the alb re-inforcements did not even know what hit them. The second they passed through the deadly lurikeen chanters went to work. Albs dropped like flies. They were just too cramped together and too close to the chanters. Pepe steamed towards a celt but stopped short. Unable to move his eyes darted anxiously looking for the one who cast the spell. Acting quickly, he counteracted the mez with a purge spell he had aquired in obtaining his last realm rank. He retreated through the milegate with the rest of the survivors and they regrouped at the teleport keep. They lost near fifty percent of the men and women they set out with. That was bad. At this time of day it would be hard to recieve more aducate numbers to take the gate. But to their surprise when they looked inside the keep there was another two full groups of albs ready and willing for battle. They would make one more attempt at the gate and this time there would be no mistakes.
They readied themselves once more. Some sat for a few minutes to catch their breath and others drank potions of strength and edurance to regain the reserves they had lost in the last conflict. They set out once more. Pepe led half on the right flank while Thorin ran with the other on the left. Archers took positions to the rear and guarded the clerics. The gates were open. Perfect. The hibs did not expect it. Their Chanters were overwhelmed and were defeated before a second spell could even be cast. Bards mezzed the unlucky few who fell to arrows and the fighters engaged bravely. But bravery was futile. Thorin had taken his troops up the north side of the gate wall and was quickly dispatching the elvish casters. Pepe turned to shouting and the sound of thunder crackling. A blinding light bellowed from the milegate room forcing him to shiled his eyes. Alb bodies dropped as they entered the room. Pepe swung around and cracked his staff home on the head of a lurikeen, finishing him. He raced to the room now, dodging arrows and moving between duels. The friar shouted to Thorin who had stopped his troops moving into the room. They massed up the steps and awaited the order. And then it came. Charge!!!. Albs from both sides spewed into the room and took out not one but two Eldritch. Enough, if given the chance to finish off every albionite there.
There was calm now. The milegate was taken and the dead littered the surrounding area. Albion casualties were minimal. At least for now. This was nothing compared to the challenge they yet faced at Bledmeer Faste. And Pepe knew it all to well. They needed speed and surprise on their side. Undoubtedly the defences at bled were weakening and scouts were sent ahead to relay reports. For now, they would camp here for the night and hold the gate. His only hope was that more re-inforcments would be sent and his friends in bledmeer would surive the night.......
to be continued imo
A short story about the last few days.. to be updated
accounts real(ish) cant really remember some accounts and just writing creatively really. its only a short story folks... just enjoy if possible
The Raid
Pepe wrapped his cloak tighter around himself and looked down the hill towards enemy territory. His breath made a silent cloud through which he saw two if not three enemy stealthers, warp in and out of existence only a few spans away. Blood thirsty shadowblades stalked their prey with little mercy and even less pity. Nightshades were no better. And a ranger could hit home at one hundred paces away and be gone before you could say the word "nerf".
The friar awaited reports from the frontier. Enemy strength and morale was increasing and some said that they were marching toward Bledmeer, A Midgardian keep held by Albion since the Great Relic War of 404. A dark time for albionites everywhere. Not only had the Midgardian hordes the element of surprise, but they also denied the right to a fair and open confrontation. Moving swiftly in the early morning fog they pounced upon the defences of Hadrians Wall, Pennine Mountains and Forest Sauvage. Most died unhonourably in their beds, whilst others never even knew the battle had taken place. Until it was too late. Albion awoke to ruin and grievence. Loved ones of guards who had fallen, cried bitter tears and cursed the cowards who took them. And so it had been. The ones left behind took up arms and swore to avenge their kin, replacing the defences and standing proud in name of fallen family.
Pepe tugged at his cloak again as if to try make it fit around him more. But there was no more. This was not a warming blanket but a garment worn for only one purpose, to present his guild colours in battle. The friar was cold. Long since had he been in front of a large fire or had proper rations. He muttered to himself as a fresh and proud Paladin ran headstrong down the hill crying out his family name. only to be cut down mercilessly within seconds of reaching the enemy line. What foolishness, what waste. Albionites were beginning to grow weary and most did not even listen to reason anymore. Battle after battle they fought and lost to superior enemy troops. They were tired and they needed something to hope for again.
Suddenly, a minstrel broke through the trees at the bottom of the hill, immediatly stirring the stealther line. They knocked their arrows and prepared to shoot. Others ran towards him to block his only path up. As quickly as they had started they stopped, dropping their weapons to their sides and seemingly looking blankly into the distance. With that, the minstrel simply ran through them to safety. Pepe smiled as if he expected nothing less. After a moment he noticed the stealthers had once again gone into shadow and he turned to walk back into the keep. He welcomed the messenger and directed him through the large gates and toward the south wall. There his news would be heard.
Pepe eyes widened as he was told the true reports of Odins Gate. Over one hundred mids had marched on to Bledmeer and was attacking as they spoke. Nightpetal, a Reaver of the society and a friend was under siege there. They were outnumbered but holding firm. Something had to be done now. If Albion could hold Bledmeer and the mids defeated, it could be the sign everybody was looking for. The light at the end of a long and dark tunnel. There was no time to lose. Word of this must be sent to the high command and re-inforcments sent at once.
Time flowed by slowly until at last, the first of the re-inforcements arrived. Sent from Albion by the power of Mages. Groups were formed with haste and nobody was left to face Odins solo. Soon there was over three full groups of hardened and ready troops. All wearing the colours of their guilds and holding their weapons true and steady. Thorin, an infiltrator was spearheading the assault. His words carried as he relayed the orders. To Bledmeer with all possible haste and to victory. The cry of steel and battle songs echoed in the narrow valley as the units raced down the hill. A nightshade appeared to the north-east and retreated but it was no match for the magic speed of one group and was soon dispatched. A similar fate to four other enemy stealthers it seemed. The Albion groups did not stay long, they quickly re-formed and headed towards the milegate to the east.
With all the Mids at Bledmeer it seemed unlikely they would even bother with this milegate. But it was not the mids they had to worry about. A hibernian attack squad of ten was camping there and the alb re-inforcements did not even know what hit them. The second they passed through the deadly lurikeen chanters went to work. Albs dropped like flies. They were just too cramped together and too close to the chanters. Pepe steamed towards a celt but stopped short. Unable to move his eyes darted anxiously looking for the one who cast the spell. Acting quickly, he counteracted the mez with a purge spell he had aquired in obtaining his last realm rank. He retreated through the milegate with the rest of the survivors and they regrouped at the teleport keep. They lost near fifty percent of the men and women they set out with. That was bad. At this time of day it would be hard to recieve more aducate numbers to take the gate. But to their surprise when they looked inside the keep there was another two full groups of albs ready and willing for battle. They would make one more attempt at the gate and this time there would be no mistakes.
They readied themselves once more. Some sat for a few minutes to catch their breath and others drank potions of strength and edurance to regain the reserves they had lost in the last conflict. They set out once more. Pepe led half on the right flank while Thorin ran with the other on the left. Archers took positions to the rear and guarded the clerics. The gates were open. Perfect. The hibs did not expect it. Their Chanters were overwhelmed and were defeated before a second spell could even be cast. Bards mezzed the unlucky few who fell to arrows and the fighters engaged bravely. But bravery was futile. Thorin had taken his troops up the north side of the gate wall and was quickly dispatching the elvish casters. Pepe turned to shouting and the sound of thunder crackling. A blinding light bellowed from the milegate room forcing him to shiled his eyes. Alb bodies dropped as they entered the room. Pepe swung around and cracked his staff home on the head of a lurikeen, finishing him. He raced to the room now, dodging arrows and moving between duels. The friar shouted to Thorin who had stopped his troops moving into the room. They massed up the steps and awaited the order. And then it came. Charge!!!. Albs from both sides spewed into the room and took out not one but two Eldritch. Enough, if given the chance to finish off every albionite there.
There was calm now. The milegate was taken and the dead littered the surrounding area. Albion casualties were minimal. At least for now. This was nothing compared to the challenge they yet faced at Bledmeer Faste. And Pepe knew it all to well. They needed speed and surprise on their side. Undoubtedly the defences at bled were weakening and scouts were sent ahead to relay reports. For now, they would camp here for the night and hold the gate. His only hope was that more re-inforcments would be sent and his friends in bledmeer would surive the night.......
to be continued imo