Well, the cavalry on the right have three options.

1- They can stand there and let the Daedra attack them, which is the absolutely worst thing cavalry can do, since they are an offensive arm, not a defensive one.

2 - They can retreat (either straight back or to the right) and allow the Daedra to envelop the infantry on the right. They might try a counter-charge afterward, and just hope they land it before the infantry collapses.

3 - They can attack the Daedra in the open, before their own dremora infantry can come into action. The Daedra have no cavalry, so there is no danger of a counter-charge by enemy horsemen. In fact, it is the Daedra's nearest approximation to cavalry (in that they are the fastest moving) that the legion horsemen are attacking.

Unless you are referring to the Daedra sending their faster creatures on a headlong charge against the Imperial line? They have not fought in a pitched battle since the days of Alessia, and are more than little rusty. Much like the Gauls, their basic tactic is simply to overwhelm the enemy with a big charge. Unlike the Gauls however, they have good armor and staying power.

They have an entirely different strategy than the human army, relying simply on massive wave attacks to first wear down, and then finally overcome the human army. The dremora commander is quite happy to waste the clannfears and other beast-Daedra in such a fashion. He will eventually get them back when they respawn in Oblivion, and they will leave his dremora in the position to deliver the killing blow and take all the glory from victory.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jun 11 2010, 03:28 AM

Well written. I liked returning to the overview for the main battle, since it's so hard for a single man (i.e. Pappy) to see the entire thing from the ground. At the front, it's just chaos for the grunts.

I have learned a great deal through reading both the chapter and the discussion of cavalry tactics that followed it. I agree with haute that returning to the ‘bird’s eye’ view of the battle was a great choice. Everything was so well described, from the crashing of that first wave of clanfear (or would that be clanfears?) to the final horn that prompted the bulk of the Daedric host to engage. I especially liked the description of the priests healing injured soldiers under a cloud of white magic, and those soldiers retaking their places on the line.

The only suggestion I would make is to be sure that Teresa doesn’t become too removed from events while in raven form. You once told me that you felt no visceral pain from Arnand when he was stabbed by the pirate. Allow me to return the favor by pointing out to you that, with all the steel and daedric weapons flying around, we don’t hear the screams of the wounded and the dying. In raven form Teresa should be able to smell the blood and the loosened bowels and bladders of the men fighting for their lives.

Oh you've got my mind racing now! Be on the lookout for an unopened bottle of flin in the future!

Woo the battle. I can't comment on tactics as I know more or less nothing about medieval tactics (on that scale anyway). The daedric strategy of the mass charge is good though and makes the eventual outcome (at least the one I expect) believable as history shows that it doesn't always work .

While I agree with Destri that Teresa feels detatched from the battle I see it as less of a problem, you ahve pappy for the gritty sweat and blood stuff and seeing as Teresa is having a vision as a raven at the moment it doesn't strike me as incongrous that she is a bit detached.

And the healing spells, makes sense I suppose, though I'd have considered having the priests higher up raining 'on target' spells, at least those who could aim

haute ecole ouroboros: Thank you h.e.o.


Destri Melarg: Maybe tribeepanic is the plural for clannfear? Civil Organizational Unit Apprehension? I suspect that the collective term for them would be a Fright.

Good observation on the sounds. Once I have time I will go back and work that in.


Olen: Thank you O. You know, I never really think of using targeted healing spells. The trouble in the game is people always move and your spell is wasted when it misses. I often have trouble using a touch healing spell on others. IRL it would not be so bad, but there would still be a lot of jostling in the ranks, and the backs of many other soldiers in the way, so I think touch spells would probably still be preferred. If for no other reason they cost less magicka, and thusly allow you to cast them more often.


all: We return to Pappy's down-to-Nirn pov.


* * *

Chapter 10f - The Battle Of Bruma

The sound of steel crashing through branches caused Pappy to jerk his head up, one hand reflexively falling to the hilt of his Atmoran blade. He saw Seridwe hurtling down the trunk of the tree upon which she had been perched. She moved quickly and recklessly, abandoning any pretense at grace or precision. That was not a good sign, Pappy thought as she finally dropped to the dirt below, her once painstakingly-arranged hair now tangled with pine needles. No, that was not good at all.

"The foreplay's over," she breathed, one hand feeling at the ruin of her golden tresses. "They've opened the Great Gate!"

With those words the butterflies in Pappy's stomach turned into a full-grown bull netches. Where in Oblivion was that flin? he found himself wondering. Shaking his head, he turned to the other men and women.

"Alright people, arm and armor!" he barked in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the entire grove of trees. He just hoped it would not be heard any farther as he unfastened the strap of his helmet, then lifted it from where it hung at his waist and settled it around his head. "Time to earn our pay. Everybody form up at the edge of the trees. Fighters Guild in the lead, Blades in the rear. Let's move like we got a purpose people!"

He strode through the confusion to his pack, lifting a belt of potion-filled pouches, he settled it around his waist over the leather strap that held his sword and dagger. A pair of water skins came next, then finally he lifted his round orcish shield into his left hand and a handful of stakes into his right. Around him mercenaries and Blades were doing the same in a vortex of confusion. Yet somehow the insanity was all organized, everyone knowing exactly what they were doing, and moving with practiced ease.

As ever, Tadrose was at the edge of the trees before him, her head now sheathed in an eagle-crowned helm, and a brace of wooden stakes laid out on the ground before her. She paid him no mind, staring out across the field instead. Pappy followed her gaze, and could not miss the fiery blaze of the Great Gate looming high above the now scorched and blasted fields of wheat underfoot.

"Cacat!" he cursed, and did not realize it had been aloud until the dark elf finally did turn her head to look at him. The Daedric army was still drawn up in front of the gate, and more and more of their soldiers were issuing from the inferno of its surface. There was no way they would ever get close to that! he knew. Where in the bloody blazes was Phillida and the army?

Now the rest of his people began to file into line to either side of him and his lieutenant. He could hear their groans and curses as they too saw what he did.

"Looks like we still have a bit of a wait folks," Tadrose put it simply, her voice betraying neither irritation or worry. "Let's take the time and everyone check the gear of the one next to them. No loose straps, no worn buckles. Anyone has a problem let me know, I'll fix or replace it if I can. Make sure you have plenty of water and your stakes too."

With that the dark elf set the example by silently inspecting Pappy's armor from head to toe. She might just as well be back in the guildhall kitting out a new member with their first suit of armor. She should have her own chapter, he found himself thinking, if Oreyn and Donton would ever give her one after being with him for so long.

Pappy and many of the others looked up as the noise intensified across the field. He could not see a thing through the armored backs of the assembled dremora and the smoke of the blazing gateways. Yet he could tell something was going on beyond them. There was a low thunder, like a storm was coming, only it went on without pause, and here and there he could see flashes of brilliant light erupting in the dust somewhere beyond the enemy host.

"That's the battlemages," he heard Corentin mutter.

"Now they're getting into it," Hirtuleius added.

The Daedra finally stopped issuing from the Great Gate and the smaller ones across the plain to either side of it. The guild commander could not believe the size of the army stretching out before his eyes, going for at least a mile in either direction. Not in two decades of soldiering had he ever seen an army like that. It seemed as if all of Oblivion had disgorged itself upon the Bruma plateau. How on Nirn were they going to defeat that?

Looking at his people to either side, he could see that they were thinking the same thing. He could not let that happen, he knew. If they doubted, they would break. So he moved among them, putting a hand on a shoulder here, whispering a word of encouragement into an ear there. He even gave healing potions to those without, until he had none remaining for himself. They were his people, and he would make damn well sure they knew that they would be alright. Even if he knew it was a lie.

"How you doing son?" Pappy bent down to next to Valerius. The young Imperial raised his pensive gaze from the dremora across the field, and the guild commander could see the fear deep in his dark eyes.

"There sure are a lot of them Pappy…" Valerius swallowed hard.

"Don't worry kid," Pappy said, laying a hand on the young man's steel-clad shoulder. "It's the men on the other side of the field there that have to do that. They've got a whole army to fight. The truth is we've got the easy part. Just some rear area layabouts that probably haven't picked up a sword in a thousand years. You stay close by me and you'll be fine. Just remember what I taught you. Keep your shield up, use the point, and watch your balance."

"Gaius, you have a minute?" Paol Lirrene leaned in to say quietly to Pappy. Pausing only to give the youngster a smile, the guild commander turned to walk off to the edge of the group with the middle-aged Breton.

"What's on your mind Paol?" Pappy asked, not liking the way the other man's brown eyes would not meet his own.

"I've got a bad feeling about this Pappy," the Breton said, still looking away.

"Don't start with that dreck Paol," Pappy could not restrain the low growl that rumbled loose from within his gut. "We've been through worse than this. Remember Whiterun?"

"There weren't no fetching Daedra at Whiterun!" Paol moaned, and now Pappy could hear the tremor in the veteran soldier's voice. "Have you looked out there? That's all of Oblivion waiting for us!"

"Shut your damn mouth!" Pappy hissed. He stepped in close to the taller Breton and kept his voice low with an effort. "You're a veteran. Those kids over there look to you to see how to act! Get your dreck wired tight, 'cause I'm not going to let you scare 'em so silly they can't fight!"

"How are we supposed to fight that!" Paol declared, sweeping his hand out at the Daedric army. "This is a suicide mission, and you know it!"

Pappy stepped back a moment, looking the other man up and down. Then without warning he backhanded the Breton across the face with his gauntleted fist, drawing a gout of blood from the corner of Paol's mouth.

Now the rest of the mercenaries and Blades turned their eyes on the pair. The guild commander waited as Paol wiped his mouth and looked down at the red liquid that stained his gauntlet. Something in the Breton's eyes snapped then, and a moment later he was on top of the Imperial, pummeling away with his fists.

Pappy fended off the other man's blows with difficulty, thankful for the heavy armor he wore. Before long the rest of the guild members, led by Tadrose, swarmed around the two and pulled them apart.

"You still got that feeling?" Pappy grinned as he looked across the knot of mercenaries at Paol.

"No you dirty fetcher!" his old friend now laughed through teeth reddened with blood. "Not at all!"

"And here I thought it was only women you couldn't keep your hands off of," Tadrose said dryly as she looked at Pappy. That brought a series of low chuckles and wan smiles from the other fighters, and the guild commander found he could not restrain one himself. "While you two have been playing, the dremora have been on the move. It's time for us to go."

All eyes turned to the open field before them, including Pappy's. He saw that Tadrose was right, as she always was. The Daedric army had finally stirred itself, and was now marching away from them, leaving the Oblivion Gates nearly unguarded behind them.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 01:46 AM

You show the prebattle tension well among the men through their actions and the dialogue. Again it brings the men alive which will make their coming deaths (at least for some I expect) meaningful to the reader. It also enhances the epic parts by showing what's going on in one place.


Great lore-friendly line.

My only nit would be that I'd like to see more of Pappy's own thoughts, though that's more a matter of personal taste.

Oh man, like O said, the pre-battle tension was palpable! I could reach out and poke it with a finger (or two)!

No nits this time, just sheer enjoyment of an engrossing segment!

"And here I thought it was only women you couldn't keep your hands off of," Tadrose said dryly as she looked at Pappy. That brought a series of low chuckles and wan smiles from the other fighters, and the guild commander found he could not restrain one himself. "While you two have been playing, the dremora have been on the move. It's time for us to go."

That is how veteran soldiers shake off pre-battle tension- with a wisecrack or three.

Excellenct characterization.

Olen: Thank you Olen. Worked for the netch reference. One of the disappointing things about Oblivion was that it did not have a whole slew of new animals like Morrowind did, with its netches, silt striders, guar, kwamas, etc...


haute ecole serpent rider: Thank you h.e.s.r.


D.Foxy: Thank you fox. That is the reason for all the joking and wisecracks you see in the earlier FG segments as well.


All: Next, the Bravil FG finally sees some real action.


* * *

Chapter 10g - The Battle Of Bruma

"You heard her ladyship people, let's move!" Pappy exclaimed. Jogging back to where he had left his stakes, he only paused to lift them under his arm before continuing out into the open field beyond. Turning back to look at the mercenaries and Blades issuing from the trees, he nodded his head toward the largest of the Oblivion Gates. "Follow me!"

His metal-clad feet pounded through the amber sea of wheat, the inferno of the Great Gate ever before his eyes. The butterflies he had felt before had now vanished, as they always did once he actually started doing something. He could hear the clattering of steel behind him, and he knew the others were close at his heels. As they finally drew near the golden plants around them vanished, and the dirt underfoot became blackened and hard, like the bottom of a campfire.

Now he could see a clump of Daedra around the gate. It was mostly dremora bearing maces, but there was a huge spider-creature among them as well. With the body of a giant arachnid, it possessed the torso of a pale, almost elven-looking woman. As if filled with nervous energy, it skittered back and forth through the ranks of dremora with surprising quickness for its bulk.

Thankfully they were all looking the other way, Pappy thought, toward where the battle was kicking up on the other side of their army. He raised his hand and stopped short, and heard the others do the same behind him. Wheeling about, he caught his breath and motioned them closer to him.

"Okay, here's the plan," he said, finding his wind again. "Julian, you and your Blades take all of the stakes from us. We're going to engage those fetchers up there. Don't stop to fight alongside us. Go straight to the Gate, drop the stakes, and then head inside."

"You heard the man," Julian said to the other Blades, who took the burden of the wooden stakes from the mercenaries.

"Now the rest of you meatheads," the guild commander said to his own people and pointed to a bare patch of field to the left of the gate. "Archers, I want you off to the side over there, where you can get a clean line of fire as we charge. Raminus, you go with them. We want to draw them away from the gate, so as soon as you get in position fire at will. With any luck, they'll charge you, and then we'll charge them. Alright, go!"

With that Hirtuleius, Corentin, and Seridwe, raced off to the side. Their recurved bows were in hand, and arrows clutched under their fingers. Raminus Polus followed, gnarled staff now gripped tightly in both hands. Under Pappy's direction, the rest of the guild members formed up into a line and drew their swords. Pulling his own double-edged blade, he stared at the runes etched down the length of its broad fuller. 'The Warrior's Wisdom is Hard Counsel' he had been told it read when the King of Skyrim had given it to him after Whiterun. Or as the old Nord had put it in his own tongue: Hardrada.

Raising the enchanted steel overhead, he stepped forward at a slow pace. He did not want to move too fast yet, he thought. The archers needed time to do their work first after all.

Then his eyes were dazzled by a brilliant flash of lightning across the plain before him. The bolt of energy sizzled into the torso of the spider daedra, and from there erupted into a ball of crackling power that engulfed the rest of the dremora as well. Even from where he stood, Pappy could feel his hairs stand on end, and an acrid stink filled his nostrils.

As the great blast of sparks died down, the guild commander could see that the Daedra were blackened and burned, but still very much alive. Arrows began to fall among them as they drew their weapons and turned to look about themselves. The guild commander picked up his pace, yet still did not break into a full run. The eyes of the dremora fell upon the archers as another blast of lightning flashed across the plain. Several of the monsters fell this time. Those that remained broke into a charge at the archers and vice magister.

With that Pappy let out a yell, pointing his sword at the Daedra as he veered off to intercept them. Glancing to either side, he could see that his fighters were with him, while Julian and her Blades continued to race directly to the now unguarded gate.

A bolt of lightning sprang from the hand of the spider daedra as her eight legs propelled her forward, far ahead of the dremora. Raminus staggered under the blast of energy, yet remained on his feet. Lowering his staff, he pointed it at the monster. A green spiral of energy wafted from the three gnarled ends of the stave and struck the spider daedra low in her bloated abdomen. She seemed to freeze then, and fell motionless to the blackened ground.

An eerie shriek pierced the guild commander's ears, and he saw Njall racing ahead of him toward the dremora. The hulking Nord had discarded what little clothing he had previously worn, and now raced stark naked with axe in hand. The blue ink of his tattoos glowed softly, and his lime-soaked hair looked hard as steel under the noon-day sun.

Not too many Nords left like that, Pappy thought, and a good thing too. The guild commander was just thankful that the madman was on his side. He could not imagine what the dremora might think when they saw him. They might even mistake him for one of their own!

They reached the Daedra before the monsters could close with the archers. Njall was the first, long-bladed axe flashing in the sun. Its mithril edge fell, and a Churl went with it. The Nord howled into the sky like a wolf, and took the time to strike the creature's head from its shoulders. Lifting his prize by one horn, the madman kissed it on the lips before flinging it at another of the dremora.

Then Pappy himself was among them. He punched with his shield as he barreled into the nearest monster. It staggered, and while the unholy creature was off-balance the guild commander stabbed low with Hardrada. Whatever supernatural metal comprised the dremora's armor, it could not stand up to the Atmoran sword's Disintegration enchantment. Feeling the ancient steel push into the dremora's stomach, Pappy twisted the blade and jerked it to one side as he pulled it out.

The monster fell to the ground, clutching at the innards that were spilling from its belly. Another bash with the steel rim of his shield sent it reeling onto its back. Then finally the middle-aged Imperial stepped forth and opened its throat with his sword.

Looking about himself, Pappy saw Valerius repeating his same punch and stab technique against another dremora. Yet his steel arming sword failed to pierce the monster's plate armor, and it merely staggered before the young Imperial. Pappy moved to help, raising his sword to strike.

But Tadrose Helas beat him to it. Closing in behind the dremora, the dark elf held her already bloody greatsword with one armored hand in a reversed grip on the hilt, and the other in the middle of the blade, as if it were a spear. Stabbing at the center of the monster's back, her longsword sank between the plates of the creature's armor. Fire erupted from her steel, and the elven characters at the base of the blade glowed red. The dremora went limp as a ragdoll, dropping its wickedly flanged mace and falling to the ground between Tadrose and Valerius.

Stopping short, Pappy looked about himself to find the fight was already over. Everywhere he gazed, Daedric corpses littered the field. His own people stood bloody, but strong over them. We took them by surprise, Pappy thought, the rest will not be so easy. There was no sense telling the others that however.

"See, what'd I tell you Valerius!" Pappy laughed, clapping his hand on the young man's shoulder. The youth nodded, his eyes aglow with the euphoria that comes from survival. One look into Tadrose's blazing crimson eyes showed him that she did not believe his bravado for a second. Thankfully, she was smart enough not to voice that knowledge.

"Anybody wounded?" Pappy now called out, eyes searching the group of mercenaries. When only shakes of their heads greeted him, he turned back to the Great Gate. There was no sign of Julian, or most of her Blades. As he watched, the last of them raced through the fiery portal and vanished into thin air. "Alright people, we aren't getting paid by the hour. Let's take that Gate and watch their backs!"

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Aug 14 2010, 03:58 AM

Regarding the Berserker, or more correctly, the Bare-Sarker: most historical records say they had to dance around and scream a bit before getting up the frenzy to shuck off their clothes and run straight at the enemy.

And most historical records show that 99% of them died after killing their first man. In real life, their use was mainly inspirational - they motivated the rest of the army to fight by their deaths.

Thankfully, the Bare-sarker here does not die.

Good armour-piercing techniques, which are also true to real life historical panzerbrecher technik. I am glad, however, that the dremora are not skilled in the more subtle ways of armour-fighting.

One of which is using a wrestling/judo technique of stepping out of the way and tripping a charging enemy in armour - while a trained soldier can fight surprisingly fast (at least in short bursts) in armour, no heavy armour soldier can rise quickly and smoothly off the ground when he has fallen.

This is why it is not a good idea to charge a skilled enemy who also has room to maneuver if you are wearing heavy armour. If you are so armoured, and you suspect your opponent is skilled, it is a much better idea to slow down ten paces from him and go up to his at a brisk walk.

Very good description of CQ combat medieval style.

After fighting a few months in light armor, Julian will agree with Foxy's assessment about the cons of heavy armor.

Good work, as usual.

Chapter 10f & 10g – The Battle of Bruma

I enjoyed everything about the last two chapters! It is such a pleasure to experience these events from the perspective of those caught in the sweep of history. From Pappy’s motivational techniques with Paol to Njall’s broken field scamper, everything was perfectly described. I especially liked how you made the engagement as chaotic and violent as it was brief. I’d say that you have satisfied the testosterone requirements of your male readers!


I don't imagine that fact makes it onto the recruiting poster in the mead-hall!

I don't imagine that fact makes it onto the recruiting poster in the mead-hall!

Actually, you can't recruit bare-sarkers....they themselves, most of the time, don't know they are bare-sarkers until the battle commences, and the 'fit' seizes them.

In battles against enemy shield walls 99% of the baresarkers died at once. Against a line of spears, no amount of speed and ferocity can make up for a lack of armour.

One little-known fact is that only highly trained, professional soldiers can summon the courage to walk into an unbroken line of waiting spears. If the shield-wall is unbroken and the spears are long, to do so is death...for the front line, at least. This was why the Greek and Macedonian Phalanxes reigned supreme, until the Romans found a way to break the phalanx by hurling Javelins (throwing spears) into the phalanx (at close range, the weight of the spear makes it much, much more deadlier than the arrow) and then charging in with the deadly shortsword into the broken shieldwall.

In the Nordic Armies, which did not have the professional drill of the Greek Phalanx, it was not unusual for two shield walls to stand at fifty paces range for three or four hours, shouting curses at each other, but refusing to fight as they did not have the courage to charge.

This was where the bare-sarkers came in.

Fuelled by a combination of psychogical instability, drugs, alcohol, the promise of a glorious afterlife in Valhalla after death, and the awe of others, they would dance about while the drums pounded louder and louder, and work themselves up into a frenzy. At the height of the frenzy they would suddenly strip off their clothes and armour and charge straight into the enemy line to kill one or two enemies while dying a glorious death.

Their contempt for death would spur the rest of the army to charge, and then the true slaughter would begin.

Several chapters, and all caught up again. I love Teresa's 'bird's eye view' carefully punctuated with Pappy's mud and blood perspective. Pappy's brief tussle was a perfect touch. I was delighted to see Tadrose again - and so wonderfully portrayed - yes, she should have her own guild. The brief mention of our Julian was yet another treat.

It seems you went for epic here and certainly succeeded. Well done, and an exciting pleasure to read!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - (Teresa) - - - - - -

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .





This post has been edited by Acadian: Jun 16 2010, 06:07 PM

D.Foxy: Njall is not really based on the Norse berserkers, but rather on the Celtic Gaesatae. Hence the tattoos, quicklimed hair, and fighting naked. It is only the name, and the Danish war axe that are norse about him. Unlike most naked people however, he is much better armored, thanks to his tattoos. As far as his life expectancy goes, well, no one in the Bravil Guild has a very long one...

Perhaps you should start a Blades, Fights, and Assassins topic here?


haute ecole ouroboros: Thank you h.e.o.

Heavy armor and light armor both have pros and cons depending on the situation. In pitched battles, where you have to hold your place in the line no matter what (meaning very little ability to maneuver), and you may not even see the person who attacks you, heavy armor is a goddessend. The mail armor and helmets that the Romans wore are a big reason why they conquered most of the Celts, who by comparison typically wore no armor at all, and only had a body shield for defense. A blow that would only stagger a Roman, if even that, was mortal to a Celt. It is ironic, seeing that the Romans got their armor from the Celts to begin with (they were much more advanced in metallurgy than the Romans).

On the other hand in individual fighting like duels, or most of the things you would see an adventurer in the ES games, there is typically plenty of room to move around, and use speed and agility to your advantage in a fight. The Celts and Germans often did well in raids against the Romans because of this. In fact, cattle-raiding was a huge part of the Celtic warrior's reason for existing.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Destri. I wanted to show Pappy's charisma in 10f, and finally get him and the others in some action in 10g. Because it was essentially two groups charging into one another, I wanted it to seem chaotic.


Acadian: Wednesday is Acadian day! Thank you Acadian. It was good to write Tadrose again. I am hoping to add a little more insight into the mystery that is Tadrose Helas with this chapter Or perhaps just more layers to the onion... I love the vikings and the wizard!


All: This next segment will be a little on the big side, but there was no good place to cut it without going really short, or breaking in the middle of the later action. Speaking of which, the second half begins with an homage to a classic western.


* * *

Chapter 10h - The Battle Of Bruma

As the final, massive line of dremora began their march forward, the Redguard cavalry galloped out to meet them on the right of the human army. The light horsemen rode up to the approaching lines of Daedric soldiers and began pelting them with javelins. Teresa saw that it did not take long at all before the footborne dremora began to break ranks and race out to try to come to grips with the Redguards. Yet the riders easily danced their horses out of reach, goading the dremora to follow.

Before they were halfway across the space between armies the entire left flank of the dremora host broke into a charge upon the light cavalrymen. The Redguards fled toward the open plain to the south, with the Daedra streaming after them in a mob.

With a sound of trumpets, the heavy legionary cavalry and knights spurred their mounts forward. The thunder of their hooves added to the already terrific din of battle, yet few of the dremora paid them any heed, so intent were they upon chasing their Redguard tormentors. The heavy cavalry smashed into the disorganized mass of soldiers with an even louder crash of mortal steel upon supernatural metal, mixed in with Imperial cheers of victory and Daedric cries of anguish.

Rank upon rank dremora went down under the avalanche, and now the Redguards finally turned their lighter mounts and charged themselves. Drawing their swords, they added their own steel to the clash of arms as they cut down the disorganized footmen left and right.

Yet Teresa saw that when the charge had finally lost its impetus, there were still dremora remaining, so deep had been their line. Now the horsemen, stopped in their tracks, traded blows with monsters that began to slowly crowd around them. The knights, in their ebony and glass armor, pounded away at the gathering hordes with near impunity. The legionary cavalry fared nearly as well in their heavy plate. The Redguards however, suffered greatly in their lighter armor, and soon many of their dead littered the field underfoot.

By that time the rest of the dremora army reached the leading elements of the Imperial foot, the Fifth Legion, whose high crested helms made them easy to distinguish from the other legionaries. The Imperials fought as stoutly and expertly as she had seen before, yet the greater numbers of the dremora soon began to push them backward across the wheat fields.

* * *

"Hey Pappy, how come they don't have to dig?" asked Vincent Galien. Barely two weeks in the guild, and he bellyached like a ten year veteran, Pappy thought to himself as he pounded a stake into the ground. Before he could open his mouth to reply, Hirtuleius did.

"Because there are two kinds of people in this world son," the grey-haired Imperial explained, "those who have bows, and those who dig."

That brought a few chuckles from the other mercenaries, who along with Pappy and Vincent were busy creating a fence of sharpened stakes. Rather than rising straight from the ground, the pickets jutted out at an angle, their ends at roughly chest level. Surrounding the rapidly growing barrier were Raminus and the three archers, Hirtuleius, Corentin, and Seridwe, all with arrows nocked and ready to fire from their recurved bows. Directly behind them rose the fires of the Great Gate itself, bathing them all in its red-orange light, and hot enough to bring sweat to all their brows, even those not digging.

"Shouldn't we be doing this on the inside of the Gate, where they won't see us?" young Valerius asked.

"It would be a one-way trip if we did," Pappy explained as he finished driving one stake into the ground and picked up another. "Only people near the Sigil Stone come back when you take it and close the Gate. Someone got left behind at Kvatch because of that."

"Damn," Aissa murmured, "That's a hard piece of luck."

"They'd see the dead bodies of the dremora guarding the Gate and come looking anyway." Paol added in. "Besides, better to fight on our own turf."

"Someone's taken an interest in us." Pappy looked up at Seridwe's words. To the north, a group of dremora guarding the nearest normal-sized Oblivion Gate were looking at them and gesturing. The twang of a bowstring sounded out, and seconds later one of them fell with a feathered shaft buried deep in its chest.

"Dammit Seri, hold your fire until they actually attack! You want to run out of ammo before we even start?" Pappy cursed, dropping the stake he had been holding and reaching for his sword. Now the dremora - more Churls from the maces they carried - let out an eerie howl. Flame spat from the staff which one carried, and a moment later erupted in a ball of fire that engulfed Pappy and half the mercenaries.

He had just enough time to raise his shield over his eyes as the flames broke over him. Heat seared through every joint of his armor, and the guild commander gritted his teeth. Damn, he cursed, even with the Fire Shield on his orcish shield and the Ring of Firewalking he wore, that still hurt. Damn his Trollkin blood…

"Archers, finish off that mage!" he heard Tadrose Helas yell from nearby.

Being a Dunmer, she probably barely noticed the flames, Pappy thought to himself as he rose and drew his sword. Waving the blade over his head, he raced to the side of the half-constructed barricade that faced the dremora. "Form a line on me!" he yelled. "Fighters Guild to me!"

His hair stood on end as the crackle of nearby lightning filled his ears. Brilliant light danced across the field, striking deeply into the oncoming dremora ranks. More arrows followed. Glancing to the side, he saw that Raminus Polus was standing beside him, and Valerius next to the mage. Paol stood at his other shoulder, then Morning-Star.

A blood-curdling scream filled his ears as the pale form of Njall vaulted effortlessly over the fence of stakes. Tattoos glowing soft blue, the wild Nord pelted across the scorched ground toward the oncoming dremora.

"Cacat no!" Pappy shouted after the battle-crazed man. "Get back here you fetcher! Stand in line!"

Yet even as he screamed, Pappy knew the Nord would not stop his charge. Either he could not hear when the battle-fury was upon him, or he simply did not care. The guild commander had never really been sure which it was. So the berserker fell into the mass of dremora with axe waving high in the air. His initial rush brought down one of the Churls. But the other dremora clustered around him, maces flashing in the midday sun. The Shield enchantment of the Nord's tattoos flashed as their blows landed, turning many harmlessly away. But some of the impacts overwhelmed his magical defense, and soon he staggered under the onslaught, dropping his axe from a shattered hand. Then he vanished within a crowd of dremora.

"Aissa no!" came Paol's shout. Turning, Pappy saw that now the Redguard was racing out from behind the barricade of stakes and into the open field. Her mithril armor shone brightly, as did the meteoric glass blade of her arming sword. Half of the Churls now turned on her, and in spite of the arrows and bolts of lightning that fell among them, she fell even quicker than the Nord had.

"Nobody leave the line you damned dreck-headed fetchers!" Pappy now yelled, turning this way and that to see the looks of horror upon the faces of his guild mates. "I swear I'll personally kill the next one of you buggers who does! We stand together, or die apart, like they did!"

Moments later the dremora charge was upon them. Their front ranks tried to dodge around the stakes leveled directly at their chest. Yet the rear ranks crowded so eagerly behind that some were impaled upon the spikes anyway. Standing in one of the openings in the unfinished fence, Pappy raised his shield to deflect a mace aimed at his head. Hardrada's reply sent the Churl reeling away with a bleeding shoulder.

Lightning crackled and sizzled to one side of him, as Raminus sent blasts of magical energy into the oncoming dremora from behind the safety of the stakes. One of the Daedra clambered over the forest of spikes and sent a mace at his head, and the vice-magister clumsily attempted to deflect the blow his staff. The magician's form was far from expert however, and the heavy blow landed soundly upon his shoulder. Raminus barely noticed however, and the mace bounced off the soft cloth of his mage's robe as if it were made of the hardest ebony.

He's learned not to rely upon Shield spells, Pappy thought to himself, one Dispel and they are gone. The guild commander still remembered the goblin shaman who had done that to the magician so many years ago…

Pappy moved over to help the mage, but a moment later the Imperial laid a hand on the dremora's chest. Sparks flew from his fingers, and the corpse of the Oblivion-spawn went hurtling back across the fence of stakes.

Then another dremora came at Pappy, and once again the guild commander deflected the mace with his shield. Making a show of staggering back, he saw the monster draw back his weapon to strike with all of its might. The ghost of a smile crossed Pappy's lips as his own arm exploded forward, driving Hardrada's tip though the Churl's unarmored throat, its wide blade nearly severing the dremora's head.

There were no more dremora in front of him then. Looking to either side, he saw that what remained of the Daedra were fleeing across the field, arrows chasing them. Gulping for breath, he looked over his own people. Morning-Star was nursing a bloody arm, and Valerius was swaying on his feet. Otherwise the rest of them seemed hale and whole. Except for Njall and Aissa, he thought darkly.

"Hold on there Raminus," Pappy said to the vice magister, who was raising his hand to cast a spell at the fleeing dremora. "We've got wounded."

Nodding toward the wounded men, Pappy followed the magister to the Argonian. The guild commander expertly stripped away the armor around lizardine's forearm, even as Morning-Star insisted it was not serious. White pieces of bone poked from the scales underneath, and Pappy held the Argonian still as the vice magister first set the bone, then healed it with a white light that sprang up from over the Argonian's head and fell about him in a disc of energy.

By then Tadrose had put the rest of the mercenaries back to the task of planting stakes. Except for Valerius, whose helmet she had eased from his head to display a black and blue goose egg beneath his dark hair. Another spell of Raminus' made that vanish, and moment later he was back into line with the others and hard at work.

The vice magister swayed on his feet himself then, and Pappy put out a hand to steady the other Imperial. Casting a critical eye upon the magician, the guild commander did not see any wounds. Rather the other man simply looked exhausted. Lifting one of the water skins from his hips, he offered it to the mage.

"Thanks old friend," Raminus said, after taking a long gulp. "Healing others takes a lot out of me, it does everyone."

"Well, then you aren't going to like what I have tell you," Pappy began, glancing darkly at Calva before turning his gaze back to Raminus. "We don't have as many healing potions as I expected we would. I'm going to need you primarily on healing duty from here on out. Stay back from the line and just keep us going with those Convalescence spells. Don't fight unless you absolutely have to."

"But you know I can hit harder than anyone else here," Raminus protested. "I'm supposed to be the big right hand, remember?"

"I remember," Pappy said, feeling irritation bubbling up through his lips. "But defense is going to win this game, not offense. No matter how many of these fetchers we kill there's going to be a thousand more. We need staying power if we're going to keep them from getting back into that Gate and going after Julian. And if she drops the ball, then we need to have enough left to stop that Siege Crawler. Otherwise it's Kvatch all over again."

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jul 30 2020, 01:46 AM

Excellent! I'm going to have to refer to this chapter when I write my own!

And I can assure Pappy that Julian will not drop the ball!

Calva is still alive? Hmph! I doubt he'll last the next segment!

As for your comments on heavy vs. light armor, agreed on all points.

I thought someone had stuck four feet of sword up that fetcher Calva's keister already....seems like the FG is getting soft, these days...

Hey, Rosa, let me do an Acadian on you and point out -

"...he saw the monster loaf of bread back his weapon to strike with all of its might..."

NOW I WONDER WHAT VERB WOULD SEEM SO TERRIBLE TO THE AUTOCENSOR TO MAGICALLY TURN IT INTO A LOAF OF BREAD!!!




I see that you have absorbed my notes about battle lines and baresarkers into your story. EXCELLENT. Realism rules!!!!

Yes. The line and discipline in holding the line was the beginning, and end, of battle training and discipline in the old days.

Wow! It all really came together here! Big picture, little picture, mud & blood, old relationships. Wonderfully done!

Some of my favorite parts:

QFT

What a wonderful poignant memory of Julian having to leave Menien behind. Heartbreaking.

I love the fact that Pappy and Raminus are old friends! I also enjoyed how you highlighted the draining effects of casting healing spells.

This post has been edited by Acadian: Jun 17 2010, 02:26 AM

the worm hauteboros: Thank you hatue. Please feel free to use anything you like from here in OHDH.

Funny you should mention Calva, his fate will be decided in this segment.


D.Foxy: Ahh, once more I forgot that the board does not like it when someone roostered their arm back. Thank you for pointing out my whole grains.

Actually, Njall and Aissa's deaths were like that from the start. That was meant to show one of the weaknesses of the Fighters Guild as a whole. Except for those who are former legion, they are not really trained, nor have experience in, large set-piece battles. Rather I envision them being accustomed to working either alone, or in very small groups. They are warriors rather than soldiers, much like the dremora. This is why later in the TF we will see Pappy drilling the new Bravil Guild an hour a day in formation fighting.


Acadian: Thank you A. I am glad you caught the reference to Julian having to leave Goneld behind, because that is exactly what I was thinking. Likewise with the Good, Bad, and the Ugly line.

Pappy knowing Raminus is something I worked out a long time ago, when I was doing background on Saya Aren. When Raminus was a fresh graduate from the AU, he did a study on goblins, in which he needed live subjects to study. So the legion had to capture a tribe of goblins for him, and Pappy, also a fresh-faced centurion, led the century that got the job. I am sure a lot of sparks flew before they finally came to an understanding with one another. Later in the TF there will be an FG mission against goblins, and the things they discovered will be put to good use.


All: We are getting near the end now. This has been one long chapter. My longest ever in fact.

* * *

Chapter 10i - The Battle Of Bruma

Teresa saw both lines now fully engaged. On the right the cavalry were locked in melee combat with the dremora footmen. Moving to the left, the three legions were likewise slugging it out with the monsters. The Fifth Legion, with their distinctive plumed helmets, were plainly struggling. Teresa was not surprised, as they had been the first of the infantry to engage the enemy, and thusly had been in the battle the longest. After them the other two legions held, but their line was far thinner than that of the Oblivion-spawn, and was slowly being pushed back. At the far left, the mail-clad guardsmen of Bruma were visibly crumbling under the onslaught of the more heavily armed and armored Daedra.

She saw riders streaming back and forth from the knot of soldiers which the Emperor was a part of. Yet they did not ride up to him, but rather reported to the Imperial soldier who wore the red sash around his waist and held the ivory baton in his hand. He must be the general, Teresa imagined, since he was plainly the one directing the battle.

That surprised her, for she would have expected Martin to be in command. Maybe he's not a soldier, Teresa thought to herself as she winged over the battlefield. In any case, he must really trust the other man to lead the army for him. She did not have to be told what would befall if they lost, which seemed to be happening.

The riders leaving the general galloped to the small knots of warriors still waiting behind the lines. With a mismatch of armor and weapons, she once more guessed that they must be either a local militia or mercenaries. Dipping low over one such group, she noticed that the better equipped ones wore medallions on their chests, in the form a red shield with a white sword pointing downward across it. The Fighters Guild, she realized, having seen that symbol before on their guild hall in the Arena District.

A moment after the arrival of the riders, the groups of warriors finally charged forward, stiffening the city guard to the far left and the Fifth Legion on the right. That seemed to give the dremora line pause, at least for the time being. Yet now Teresa could see the Imperial army had nothing left to throw into the battle if things went badly.

Flying back across the Daedric line and over many large clumps of their dremora soldiers still unengaged behind it, something strange caught Teresa's beady raven's eye. There was fighting around the base of the largest gateway, yet who could be there, in the very rear of the entire Oblivion army?

Flying closer, she saw that there was a circle of wooden stakes buried into the ground, and the corpses of many Daedra hung from their points. Yet many more dremora were swarming through the gaps in the spikes, or hacking away the timbers to force wider openings. Within a polyglot band of men and women were fighting for their lives against the attacking monsters.

As she dove lower, she saw one dremora was larger than the others, and carried a massive war hammer in both hands. Striding up behind a warrior clad in a mixture of orcish and legionary plate, the dremora lifted its hammer over its head to deliver a crushing blow upon the unsuspecting man.

Teresa poured on all the speed she could muster from her ebon wings and swooped down upon the pair. Opening her beak, she blasted forth the loudest cry of warning that her avian lungs could call up.

* * *

Pappy did not know what made him turn, pure luck, some sixth sense of danger, or perhaps even the intervention of the gods. He did not waste time musing on the answer, because he saw a tall dremora standing directly behind him with a two-handed hammer raised over his head. The great metal weapon had already begun its downward stroke, and the guild commander screamed at himself to move as he pushed his armor-clad frame out of the way.

He felt the whoosh of air as the great block of Daedric steel passed mere inches from his head, only to thud heavily into the ground underfoot a moment later. Without thinking, Pappy punched his shield into the over-extended dremora's shoulder, pushing it even further off-balance. Hardrada followed, easily sundering the mail under the monster's armpit and sinking deeply into the flesh beneath. Giving the double-edged blade a vicious twist, he pulled it out. A moment later he finished the creature - whom he now realized must be a Markynaz or Valkynaz.

Turning, he saw that the dremora had finally gotten into the barricade. Cacat! he cursed, now they were in it for certain! Cutting down another dremora, he made his way toward where he saw Vincent was desperately trying to fend off a pair of swordsmen. As he watched helplessly, the Breton was too slow on his guard and a jagged arming sword fell upon his head.

The yellow light of his guild medallion's Shield enchantment flashed, and the steel of the Breton's helmet held. Still, Vincent staggered back, lowering his shield. The second dremora brought his blade down for a killing blow a moment later.

It was blocked by Calva's Dwemer shield. The Imperial stepped in front of the youthful Breton and traded blows with the Kynval. Then the first dremora thrust from the side, under Calva's shield, and skewered him in the guts in spite of both armor and enchantment. The Imperial fell a moment later, as the Daedra tore out the blade and spilled his intestines across the ground.

Then Pappy had reached them, the sound of Calva's screams lending strength to his arm. Hardrada shattered the shield of Calva's slayer with one blow of its enchanted blade. His next swing took the dremora's sword hand, and the creature fled out of reach. Turning to deal with the other Kynval, he saw that Vincent stood breast to breast with the monster, too close for either to use their swords. As Pappy moved in, the Breton neatly tripped the dremora after working a foot behind its ankle and shoving with his shield. The guild commander followed it up with a thrust to the creature's throat, finishing it.

Calva had gone silent, and Pappy turned to see that a dremora stood over the Imperial's corpse, bloody sword in hand. Well, the Imperial thought, that at least saved him the trouble of doing it himself. Not that he was going to thank the dremora for it.

Their eyes locked, and the guild commander feinted at the monster's head. The Kynval was too wily to fall for the trick, and easily pushed aside Pappy's real strike a moment later. It followed with a stroke at his head, which Pappy effortlessly parried on his shield.

Then a moment later it fell, and Pappy saw another dremora standing behind it with a bloody sword and a look that might have been satisfaction crossing its infernal features. "Many of them have old scores to settle with one another." The words of Arentus Falvius echoed in his mind.

Pappy did not waste time. Instead he barreled forward, smashing his shield against the creature's body. The dremora was ready however, and was able to brace himself against the Imperial's charge. The two stood chest to chest, too close for either to use their swords.

"On your belly mortal!" The dremora's voice was like razorblades scraping across steel plate. It dropped its sword and drew forth a serrated dagger. Pappy let Hardrada fall as well, and reached out to grasp the dremora's wrist in time to stop the point from skewering his face. Yet the dremora was taller than he was, and was using that leverage to slowly push the supernatural blade closer and closer toward the Y-shaped slit in his legion helmet.

Pappy twisted his body, working his right foot in front of the dremora's own. Sweeping the dremora's feet back, at the same time he pivoted from his hip and pulled the monster forward. Already using all of its strength to push in that direction, the Daedra went flying over the guild commander and crashed to the scorched ground behind him. Drawing his own dagger from his hip, Pappy fell upon the monster and drove it through one of the eye slits in its helmet.

"Fighters! Rally on me!" Pappy rose to his feet and shouted as loud as he could. Gathering up Hardrada, he waved for the other fighters to join him. "Back to back, form a circle!"

At his words the other warriors backed away from the smashed barricades and formed into a knot with Raminus Polus at its center. Standing shoulder to shoulder, with the mage casting healing spells on each as they suffered a wound, they fended off the dremora assault. When the Oblivion-spawn finally withdrew, Pappy looked around and had to resist a groan at the sight.

Seridwe lay motionless on the crisped dirt, glassy eyes staring at the sky overhead. Her armor was rent under the left breast, washing her abdomen and legs with blood. At the other side of the circle lay Paol, his orcish armor stove in and chest crushed beneath it.

The work of the Markynaz, Pappy thought as he closed his eyes. It must have gotten Paol before coming after him. Damn, damn, damn! he cursed. What had he led them into?

"If I should fall to rise no more,
as many comrades did before.
Ask the pipes and drums to play,
over the hills and far away"

The soft voice of Hirtuleius came to his ears. Fighting back the tears that were forming in his eyes, Pappy looked over at the Imperial. The other man was kneeling down next to the body of J'sharr, whose head was nowhere to be seen.

Hirtuleius rose to his feet, and Pappy could see the other man was indeed weeping. Then the archer's Shield enchantment flashed yellow as the black feathers of an arrow sprouted from the Imperial's throat. A look of shock crossed the grey-haired man's face as he collapsed, grasping for the arrow that had taken his life.

"Cover!" Pappy shouted, dropping to his knees and raising his shield. He heard a thunk! and felt the shock of impact as one of the missiles impacted into the enchanted wood of his shield.

"Shields up, form a wall!" he cried out, and the remaining fighters did as he commanded. Even Tadrose snatched up a dremora shield. Kneeling down in front of Raminus, she held the protective screen above the two of them as the mage fumbled through his pockets.

"Leave them to me!" the magician cried, drawing forth a magicka gem. The long, jagged crystal glowed with a soft blue light. The vice magister briefly closed his eyes in concentration, and that energy flowed into him. Then the stone turned to dust beneath his fingers. A moment later he rose from behind Tadrose's shield and thrust his hand out. A storm burst from his hand, and the arrows stopped coming.

Pappy looked up at twin fangs of black rock that loomed above him, and the wall of brilliant energy that shone between them. Where in the blazes was Julian? he wondered.

This post has been edited by SubRosa: Jun 19 2010, 03:52 AM

Wrestling trips and throws!!! YESSSSSS!!!!

And the scent and taste of battle. REALISM RULES!!!!


And so does Rosa...ROSA RULES!!!