Spoils of War: [MonkeyToe]

[MonkeyToe]

The massed army waited silently at the crest of the hill. Not even the horses stood as the legion nearly surrounded the walled metropolis of pristine polished marble. The sovereign citadel of Alagorea had always been the target of the North Men as it was the obvious gateway of trade to the wealthy countries to the south. But the northmen had lacked the leadership to even consider taking the southern jewel. Such was the desperation of the northmen that they hired the fabled mercenary general Galin, a ruthless cut-throat that had trained himself to know nothing but war.

Galin's white hair was buffeted madly by the wild wind that had begun to blow as he surveyed his prize. Though his skin was rough and scarred, his eyes shone with a keen intellect and a hunger for battle. Fear ruled among his men, men that he had collected by killing off the old generals leaving only him and his hand picked lieutenants to commance the filed of battle. The Northmen had paid a high price for his services, but today it would pay off.

Armor encased his body, shining like hard plate mail. It looked bulky and weighted to his enemies, but it was little more than leather that had been treated to give the appearance of heavier armor. Even at his stomach it bowed outward, making him look old, fat, and content, much like the men he had killed and usurped. But beneath the faux armor was the body of a predator, sinewy and lean and wound to pounce. Galin had gone to great lengths to secure the element of surprise, his own appearance only being one of them. As his main army stood waiting, an elite wing tunneled beneath the city preparing for his entrance. Galin would lead his men to victory, bathing his blade in the blood of his enemies. Once this battle was won, he would move on to the next.

Galin raised his blade, signaling the begin of the siege and his army roared in obedience.

 

[missedstations]

Re: Spoils of War: (missedstations & MonkeyToe)

Her father was long dead, her brothers buried at the gates of her own city. She had been born to Alagorea and its tragedy: a slow decline of power, only as the threats from the North grew. The complacence of its nobles, the stupidity of its people... Only now, could they see their idiocy, when the enemies at their gate were too many. At least she knew that her soldiers would fight to the death: not a single street would be given up without enemy blood shed.

The Lady of Alagorea knew in advance that defeat was inevitable. Her allies were too few, the enemies too many. In her castle, she prepared to face death with dignity: her maids helped her with her armour, and handed her the sword and shield. She knew how to use both well, but nothing would aid her. She spoke to her men, told them of the glories of the afterlife, told them they must defend their city with the last breath, however futile it was. They listened. They always did. She was the Lady of Alagorea, the last one of her line, proud and blazing with her beauty and convictions.

It was a shame no grandchildren would look on her portrait in the great hall. She was the only woman there in armour, with a bare sword in her hands. Her copper skin was the same as her father's, with straight black hair and deep brown eyes to match. If she had been in less warlike times, they would have been kind, and in his vain hope the artist had painted them that way. In reality, they were cold and had given her a name. Rhianne, the Hawk of Alagorea, who could send men to their deaths without a blink. She would face her own death with equal dignity.

 

[MonkeyToe]

Re: Spoils of War: (missedstations & MonkeyToe)

A couple of quick hand signals set the siege in motion as the catapults began heaving their loads at the heavily fortified walls, sending debris and defending soldiers tumbling to the ground beneath. At the same time, detachments of heavily armored and powerful soldiers rushed forward with their battering rams seeking entrance at the cities one and only gate. Though their walls and gate were strong, they would soon become a tomb for those trapped on the inside.

Galin did not plan on waiting for the walls to fall or for the gate to give way. His personal army of mercenaries had spent the night tunneling beneath the city walls whilst the defending army was busy preparing for the forward siege. Little did they know that the real attack would come from within. This would give his men the first pick of the treasures they would raid from the wealthy city before they finally opened the gates for the main body of the army.

Turning the regal white steed from the crest of the hill, he spurred his horse behind it as his lieutenants took command. Once he reached the mouth of the tunnel, hidden from anyone else and guarded by his own men, he dismounted and ducked inside. At the tunnels end diggers held picks and shovel ready for the final command that would open up the underground tunnell and send his detachment into the unsuspecting streets.

With a nod, the dirt ceiling collapsed bringing down a few innocent passer-bys who were soon trampled by the emerging army as they poured from the opening with a blood-chilling battle cry, Galin at its head.

"Take what you want men!" He shouted as the mercenaries laid into the sparse city guard.

((Done))

[[I have resurrected this post after my initial partner dropped it. It is available for new players]]