The Red Dawn (Frozopia's Med RP, Semi-Closed)

[The Rohirrim 1]

Marshal Gomer looked with dismay at the ransacked village. The buildings were aflame, corpses scattered the countryside. The defenders had mainly been the men of the village who took up sword against the attackers. Gomer and some of his Eored had responded to loose reports from hunter of the village in flame. Gomer, and roughly two hundred riders sat on their horses on the slope of the hill behind the village. Gomer took his horn from it's strap and let forth a cry. The sound would travel for many miles and if the attackers would still nearby, they would know the Rohirram were onto them. Gomer led the Riders down in to the village. Riding through the devastation Gomer softly sang:

Through shadow, to the edge of night
Mist and shadow
Cloud and shade
All shall fade
All shall...
Fade

At length they reached the Village Hall. Like the rest of the buildings it was in flames. The fire were just finishing their task of taking hold of the thatched roof. The riders noticed the Banner of Rohan fluttering defiantly above the flames. One of the riders jumped from his horse and ran across the street to another building. Another Rider jumped down and helped him with the ladder he had found. They put it against the building and the first rider climbed up and was able to reach the banner and pull it down before the flames took hold. Once on the ground he carried it over to Gomer. He took it and attached it to his spear, just under the spear tip, it again began to flutter in the wind.
"1st Company stay here until the rest of the Eored turns up, Second Company with me, we've got some Bastards to find" Gomer called. The Riders broke in two. One stayed to secure the village and look for survivors. The others rode with Gomer to one of the Pathfinders who had located the attackers tracks leadng away from the village. Gomer spurred his horse forward, followed by the rest of the Company.

[Frozopia]

OOC: I hope you dont mind If I jump in on this .

IC:

Lord Magne and his men drove the newly enslaved Rohirrim hard, ruthlessly butchering those who were too slow or foolish enough to attempt an escape. The sight of their blood spraying into the air was a warning enough to the remaining peasants, and even the bravest of the lot were pacified.

Magne sighed. It was shame that good quality and valuable stock had to be culled, but it was a necessary evil of slaving. In the early days, after the shock of the raid had passed off, there were always a few trouble makers. But identify their family members, make a few threats and you have yourself a slave, more akin to sheep then the men they used to be. Every good slaver knew these basics, and Magne was an old hand in the business. Unfortunately during the march the Frozopians didnt have time to work out who was related to who, so bloodshed was used instead.

"Stupid Cow! Get back in the column!" Captain Frest slapped the sobbing girl across the face, shoving her back into the other slaves. Walking at the rear of the column of bound prisoners, she had stopped to relieve herself. Pretty girl. There was no time for that.

"Ease off Frest. She'll be worth her weight in gold with those looks."
"And those tits." One of the men muttered.
"And that arse." The men laughed.
Magne smiled. The men were in good spirits. Lord Magne hadn't let them have their way with the woman yet, but they respected their leaders caution. Such...Frivolous behaviour would waste precious time. Time that the Frozopians needed to reach their ships.

Still it was unlikely the Frozopians would make it unopposed. Infact Lord Magne was looking forward to a fight. The ninety raiders and their scouts were well prepared. Each Huskarl and archer carried a stake to go with their weapons. In the tall grass they would wreck havoc among the horsemen of Rohan.

"My lord the Scouts have found a suitable location." Redbearded Captain Frest was squinting towards the horizon, where a mounted rider was waving a blue flag.

"Good. I have a feeling those Rohirrim will be joining us soon. Captain take the slaves and ten men. Keep them moving for the shore. We'll join you in a few hours."

"Yes my lord."

Everyone knew the plan. The Frozopians would continue the tracks for a good mile or two. Then they would secretly double back to the allocated point and layout their ambush, concealing their forces in the longrass. Aside from the ten men with Captain Frest, Lord Magne had sixty Huskarls and twenty archers carrying shortbows. It was more than enough for the job...

[The Rohirrim 1]

Gomer led the 1st Company across the grasslands. They had spotted some scouts on the track ahead but they had scappered. Gomer wasn't likeing this at all. He didn't know why but he had a very bad feeling about this. HE knew he should have waited for the rest of the Eored. Unless the enemy were riding like the wind, all on perfect stallion there would be no way they could outrun the horses of the Rohirrim, not if the Riders snuck up on the enemy. He shook his head, he survayed the land ahead of him. He recognised the land and the town that was near by. The town was small, but it was walled and defended. If he sent riders that way they would be able to muster the towns company. The Riders there were not part of a Marshels Eored, of which there were around ten in the Riddermark, but they were as skilled with horses as the Eoreders. They were the men who were duty bound to respond to the Muster of Rohan and made up the remander of the Riders of Rohan. Their main duties, were different than the Eoreds. The Eoreds were the patrolers, led by a marshel or second marshel, the Eoreds rode across the Riddermark. The other riders protected their home town or villge and it's local area. True it was that most men in Rohan were skilled with a horse, the Horse was an intergral part of Rohans life, which meant that in war, Rohan could muster a large, skilled army. Gomer shook off his considerations and called out the orders. Ten Riders broke off from the group and rode hard towards the town. Meanwhile the rest of the company were entering some high grass, the Horses were nervous, as if they sensed someone closer.
"Keep your eyes peeled lads" Gomer called as he gripped his spear and lifted it into a ready stance, rather than it's normal stance. A arrow sprang out and hit Gomers stomarch with a clang. He like the rest of the Marshels were the few to be equipped with Plate armour, specially modified for Horse riders.
"Ambush!" Gomer called as he grabbed his shield off his back and put it into a combat stance, as were the rest of the riders, as two were struck down instantly from arrows to their necks or weak point in their armour. Gomer was able to get his horn to his lips again and let out a cry before geting bck to the battle.

[Frozopia]

Four of the Frozopian scouts rode through the ambush point without stopping, but the last rider jumped from his mount, handing his reins to one of the huskarls.

"Lord. Lord?" The scout scanned the Frozopian formation.
"Yes?" Lord Magne stood up.
"Maybe a hundred and fifty riders My lord. Two hours behind us."
"Good."

The Frozopians had assembled a rough ambush, concealing their stakes in a line that curved slightly to protect their flanks. The Huskarls crouched in close order, ready to step straight into formation the moment they were ordered. They would raise shields and level spears untill at the last moment, a charging enemy found themselves in the face of a bristling shield wall. Experienced soldiers as the huskarls were, they could perform the manouver with the speed and discipline required. Lord Magne and ten reserves stood at the rear with the archers, ready to fill any gaps if necessary.

Over the next few hours the raiders waited in silence, not daring conversation nor movement. Above them the summers sun steadily sunk towards the horizon, casting shadows across the Frozopians. Finally in the gloom of the late afternoon, the Frozopians heard the hoofbeats of approaching riders. The Frozopian archers stood, drawing their bows. Through a small section of the grass, an artificial clearing created by the Frozopians, the rohirrim rode into view. Lord Magne pointed at his archers, and then towards the enemy. The signal was clear. The archers released a volley. Then another. Lord Magne drew his sword and pointed at the reeling horsemen.

"Come Rohirrim! Come and die!"

[The Rohirrim 1]

The Horse Archers returned fire. Letting go of the reigns long enough to string and shoot a arrow at an enemy archer, before grabbng the reigns again and moving out again. The rest of the RIders moved their spears into attack postion, the Spears of the Riders of Rohan were deadly weapons in the capable hands of a Rider. Capable of flying true and hard at an enemy. The Riders threw their spears as they saw a target. Once the spears were thrown they drew their swords. Gomer suspected that the enemy would have some sort of weapon for use against his riders, so he was reluctant to order a charge. Instead he spoke in quick Rohirric. In responce to this groups of Riders began to feint charge at the enemy to attempt to draw our their plan, they would move to close range before pulling back. All this time the Archers continued to fire, and arrows rained down on the Riders, a further six riders were hit.

[Frozopia]

Lord Magne swore, raising his shield to block an arrow. The Rohirrim were more cautious then he had hoped, forcing the Frozopian huskarls to stand and reveal their position. Ignoring the feinting cavalry, they quickly assembled a shield wall. Thrown spears and arrows clattered of the wall. Unfortunately for the Rohirrim, the stakes were a few yards in front of the Frozopian line: Those who feinted too close, even out of spear range, frequently ran into the stakes impaling their animals. Thrown riders were instantly cut down.

Behind the Frozopians experienced their first casualties, as the lightly armoured archers fell victim to enemy archery fire.

[The Rohirrim 1]

With the Enemies Anti-Horse plan seemingly revealed Gomer called the Charges off. The Archers continued to fire on the enemy as Gomer considered this sheld wall. Chances are that by the time his riders had gone round the enemy stakes the enemy would have changed their facing to the riders new attack vector. He spoke again Rohhirick and the Cavelry split into three. They pulled back and took a wide path around, hopefully around the enemy stakes, which the riders were careful to look out for. The Riders would peel around the outside of the enemy, hopefully eliminating the threat of the stakes. Now all they had to deal with was the Shield wall. The archers would continue to fire at the enemy. The Riders awaited Gomers next order as they continued to move around to avoid enemy archers. Gomer just hoped that rienforcement would come soon.

[Frozopia]

As the enemy cavalry disapeared into the tall grass to the right and left of the shield wall, Magne realised his men were in danger of being outflanked. The stakes wouldn't prevent a charge from the rear, and the Frozopians were being whittled down by the enemy horse archers. Drastic measures were required.

"SHIELD WALL! FORWARD!" The Frozopian shield wall edged forwards, stepping around the stakes as they went. The remaining Frozopian archers followed. The wide route taken by the enemy flankers, and the tall grass they had to pass through, would prevent them from realising what was happening. Hopefully before it was too late. The Frozopians continue to edge close to the enemy in front...

"FRONT RANK! CHARGE!"

Twenty of the forwardmost Frozopians broke from the shield wall, spearing any Rohirrim stupid enough or slow enough not to disperse in the face of the charge.

"Right there goes the horse archers! Frozopians! SCHILTROM!"
The Frozopian huskarls form a circle, with spears pointing outwards. Named after the hedghehog, it was a formidable anticavalry formation that couldn't be flanked. The Frozopian archers filled into the centre of it, Continually firing over the heads of their colleagues. Some were running out of arrows, and instead reached for their poleaxes and daggers.

[The Rohirrim 1]

The Riders disperesed as the shiled wall charged. But the archers took advantage of the close range to fire arrows strongly at the enemy warriors. The Riders continued to circle the enemy forces, the archers continueing to fire at the enemy archers to whittle them off. Gomer knew that they couldn't charge this sphere, but if his archers could eliminate the enemy archers, the enemy would be in trouble. Gomer took a spear of another rider and in a swift movement threw it into the middile of the enemy formation, over the shields and into the enemy bodies. The rest of the riders with their spears still copied and rained more spears down on the enemy.

[Frozopia]

As both sides ran low on ammunition, the two sides were forced into a stalemate. The ambush had failed: Although the Frozopians had bloodied the Rohirrim, probably killing more than those they had lost, they hadn't succeeded in routing them. Now they were in danger of being encircled. It was time to act before they could gain control of the situation and organise a proper perimeter around the Schiltrom.

"Frozopians! Move!" The Frozopians assembled a column, their formation tight and ready: If the enemy charged again, they would run head first into another Schiltrom. It meant they would move at a snails pace, but it would prevent all but the most rapid and cohesive of charges from striking home. The Rohirrim were bloodied and exhausted after a days riding: They were no great threat to the formation, or so Magne hoped.

At the centre of the formation the Frozopian archers carried and dragged the wounded. No one was being left behind unless it was absolutely necessary. Lord Magne himself helped one of his huskarls to his feet, allowing the wounded soldier to lean on him. The man had taken a spear wound to his left leg, but he looked determined.

"Don't worry lads. We've got horses waiting for us outside of the grass!"

[The Rohirrim 1]

Gomer looked up as one of the riders told him the enemy appeared to be retreating. If his riders were at full strength and not fatigued, Gomer would have ordered a charge, he knew that with enough riders and determination he could break the enemy formation. For now he would have to be satisfied to follow them. He sent a dozern or so riders out to the perimiter of the tall grass, both to make sure that there were no more enemy coming and attempt to find the enemies escape plan. Gomer took his horn again and held it in his hand, it really was of excellent craft. He put it to his lips and let out another blast. The notes of the horn could be heard for miles around. A few seconds passed, but then in the middle-distance he heard a reply, not quite as grand as Gomers but equally as hopeful. This one sound spurred he Riders hearts, and would probably downcast the enemy. He estimated that at the rate the enemy were moving, which wasn't very fast, and the distance the horn cry was, that his reinforcements would probably arrive as the enemy exited the tall grass. Excellent.

[Frozopia]

As the Frozopians cleared the tall grass, they were greeted by the sight of their scouts and horses preparing to flee. Several Rohirrim horsemen who had overtaken the Frozopians had squared off against the scouts, threatening to ride in and cut them down.

"HOLD! HOLD FROZOPIANS!" Magne roared loudly, waving towards the scouts in a desperate bid to gain their attention. It was too late: The scouts hadn't seen them, and instead pushed their horses into a gallop, driving the Frozopian horses away from the Lord and his Huskarls who desperately needed them. Magne swore loudly and turned back to his men: They still had one horse, and the scout who had rode it was long dead. If Magne took it now...

He would not abandon his men.
"Garen. You're our fastest rider. Take the horse and try to catch up with the scouts. Archers cover him!" The animal was skittish, but Garen skillfully calmed the animal and jumped into the saddle. The remaining eight archers gathered together the last of their arrows.

"RELEASE!" The arrows rose high into the air, and then plunged into the Rohirrim horsemen. Those unfortunate enough to have turned their back to the Frozopians, content to watch the scouts ride away, did not see the arrows as they plunged deep into their backs.

"GAREN! RIDE!" The Frozopian galloped the horse forwards: It was well rested but there was no guaranty even a skilled rider like Garen would make it. The Frozopian archers sighted the Rohirrim again and let off another volley.

"No more arrows, my lord."
Magne nodded. "Garen shall safeguard his own fate now. FROZOPIANS! PREPARE TO FIGHT!"

The Huskarls were down to fifty men, many of whom were walking wounded. Including the eight archers, who eagerly picked up shields and spears, the Frozopians numbered just short of sixty effectives. Enough men to make any attack costly. The Frozopians could attempt to march across the open, but it would invite the enemy cavalry to encircle them. Eventually they would ground to a halt and the enemy would either use archery fire to wear them down, or if they were out of arrows, they would merely starve them out.

However if they retreated into the tall grass, they would have more cover. The enemy cavalry, already a little disorganised, would struggle to co-ordinate their manouvers. It was tempting but for the fact that there was no way the scouts would find them within the grass. Without horses the Frozopians couldn't escape. It would take time, a long time, but the Rohirrim would eventually break them and hunt them down one by one.

So the Frozopians would hold their position.
"We will hold here lads. Prepare a shiltrom! Remember Jorn! Remember Curoch! WE FIGHT TO THE END!"
The men cheered. For the moment they would hold. But Magne knew that if he lost many more men, or if escape became impossible, their will would falter.
"May the gods be with you, Garen." He muttered, too low for anyone else to hear.

[The Rohirrim 1]

The last of the enemy arrows flew into the horsemen. Only three were killed outright, a few others were injured. Gomer frowned as the enemy stopped. They appeared to both be out of arrows and stopping. Gomer nodded to his Second In Command, Sub Marshel cabbot. Cabbot nodded and spurred his horse after the enemy scout. He drew his sword as he rode after the fleeing enemy.
Gomer considered his next move, he wasn't willing to risk more men unnessiserly, so he wouled order a charge. He heard the slam of hooves on the ground. His reinforcements had arrived. A Hundred Riders had rode with the scouts he had sent to the town, they weren't the rest of his Eored but they would do. Gomer remembered what th eenemy did to the village, buthe would show mercy.
"Light a fire" He ordered grimly. The Tall grass was dry, as there had been no rain in several days. The riders spread out along the edge of the tall grass. Each unit lit a fire at the base of the tall grass. Soon the fire would engulf everwhere except a small gap in front of Gomer, which two riders stood ready to light.
"My name is Marshel Gomer, 1st Marshel of the westfold, you have commited Heinous crimes again Rohan, but if you surrender now I may show mercy, if not you will burn, you have thirty seconds to decide" Gomer called out loudly.

[Frozopia]

OOC:
Erm where did these several hundred horsemen come from? How did they catch up with your riders who riding at a pretty rapid pace in the first place to reach the Frozopian raiders?

[The Rohirrim 1]

OOC: I guess several hundred is a bit much, they are Riders (Non-Eored) from a nearby town that Gomer sent riders to a few hours before the Main Company caught up with your men, a hundred is a better figure probably as i reckon a town could support 100 non-Eored riders, is that better?

[Frozopia]

OOC: Hmm I'm still not entirely happy, but we'll go with it. Mustering a 100 men in a reasonable sized town is doable, just getting them to the right time and the right place afterwards (remember communication is a nightmare in these times, and this is during a chaotic pursuit) is a challenge.

IC:

The Frozopians were formed in the outskirts of the grass. The fire would be...Unpleasant, mainly due to the smoke, but they would be outside the worst of it.

"Do as you will! With the sun setting, we'll need a bit of warmth." Lord Magne's grasp of the local language wasn't perfect, but his words were understandable. Lord Magne gazed at the men around him.

"What terms can you offer? I should warn you, we have three hundred riders, minutes away. Our good man there, who you just let ride off, has ridden ahead to speed them up. Somehow I doubt your terms will be good enough to persuade me to order my men to drop their arms."

[The Rohirrim 1]

"By now your scout is probably dead" Gomer bluffed, he knew not wheter cabbot had caught up with the enemy "As for terms, you will tell me where the prisoners you took from the village are, you will hand them over to me, you will then be taken to the Stockade at The Deep where you will be held, in acceptable conditions until a ransom can be paid for your freedoms, if no ransom is paid you will remain in the stockade"

Meanwhile

Cabbon spurred his horse on again as he chased the enemy scout across the plane. He figured that they might be going for assisstance so he had to stop him. Cabbot had the advantage, both in his skills with horses, and the fact that he knew the lay of the line much better then his Target.

[Frozopia]

"Even if he is, my riders will be here quick. Perhaps you should consider surrender?" The Frozopian smiled calmly at his enemy. "We offer generous terms! As our prisoners we will ransom you back at a fair price. Your imprisonment will be pleasant: No dungeon nor stockade."

Meanwhile

Garen risked a glance over his shoulder. In the distance he could see his pursuer. The Rohirrim were skilled riders, the raiders knew that, but Garen had a rested mount and the headstart. Despite this the man was gaining, if ever so slightly. Clearly their skill was not exadgerrated. Either Garen would soon have a fight on his hands, or he would run into the Frozopian scouts. Garen prayed for the latter. He was perhaps a minute behind the scouts: Surely they would have slowed down by now!?

[The Rohirrim 1]

"Not likely" Gomer replied "My Eored will be here soon, and then you will be faced with a horse charge that you cannot hold back"

Meanwhile

Cabbon cursed his luck. If he had a spear with him he could probably have hit his enemy at this range. He glanced around the land ahead as he rode by. HE spotted a Carbor bush up ahead. As he rode past he grabbed a branch, about the length and width and weight of a spear. He hefted it in his hand. He looked at this target and estimated the wind, he then caluclated the lead required. And after taking a deep breath he threw the psuedo spear at the enemy. It was slightly pointed naturaly, at the very least it should put the enemies horse off long enough for Cabbot to close the distance.

[Frozopia]

OOC: Considering the unlikely conveniance of that grab, i think ill make it miss

IC: The makeshift spear fell well short, unnoticed by Garen. For what had caught his attention, over the small ridge they had just crossed, was far more important...

"FROZOPIANS! FROZOPIANS!" Garen bellowed the words as loud as he could. The scouts, now moving at a trot, were finally in sight. Halting the seventy horses they lead, they turned to see the incoming riders.

"FROZOPIANS!" Garen dragged his mount to a stop.

"Garen?" There were six scouts in the party. The leader, a man called Toruth, recognised him. "You survived!"
"We all survived you idiot! Now help me kill this bastard!"

The six scouts levelled their spears, and Garen drew his sword.
"Right you are!" The seven men charged the lone rider.
Together they rode at the Rohirrim rider.

[The Rohirrim 1]

OOC: Yea, i expected that lol

IC:

"Shit" Cabbot muttered as he saw this. He quickly considered how to deal with this. If he could split the enemy into ones or maybe twos, and he got rid of their spears he could probably do this. For now he would execute the ancient art of tactical retreat he checked his horse and turned around and galloped away, he kept a good look ovver his shouldour so that he could see when and where the enemy spears would come from.

[Frozopia]

"Forget him! Get the horses!" Garen watched the man ride off. He would have enjoyed killing him. Garen didn't like being afraid, and that is exactly how the last few minutes had made him feel.

Toruth looked closely at Garen.
"You want us to bring the horses back. To help them escape I presume." Toruth paused. "I'm not sure I want to risk my neck for his lordship."
"You bloody will. Get the horses. Follow me. Thats an order."
"Orders!? From a lowly Huskarl?"
"From Lord Magne himself." Garen turned to the other scouts. "Now move!"
Toruth shrugged.
"You heard him. Lets move."

The scouts turned the horses around.
"Quickly now!"

[The Rohirrim 1]

Cabbot found it interesting that the enemy weren't following him. He stopped his horse and turned around, he headed back after the scouts. he seemed to be behind them once more. He wasn't sure what good seven scouts would do against Marshel Gomers forces, but he guessed he'd soon find out.

[Frozopia]

OOC: I assumed you were riding back to the others . Anyways considering the open-ness of the terrain, and the fact its still day its unlikely your guy will be able to sneak up on the scouts.

IC:

"And that Is my reinforcements." Lord Magne pointed off in the direction his scouts had ridden. The sound of many hoofbeats striking the grassy earth echoed loudly across the plains, as Garen and his six scouts drove the seventy horses hard towards the Frozopians. As far as they were, it was still impossible to tell how many horsemen they were. The Frozopians hefted their spears and shields.

"Now you better remove your men from our way. Or die."

[The Rohirrim 1]

Gomer had no intention of backing down
"Rohirrim!" He called loudly to his men, who broke of from their guard posts around the grass, as escape was virtually inpossible due to the fire that was taking hold. Gomer was confident in his ability to defeat the enemy, and he had an advantage. The riders who had rrived from the town had arrows with them. Whilst the 'Negotiations' had been taking place, the Horse archers from the village had given out their spare arrows. It was only now that the Rohirrim gathered together that the archers got their bows again.
"Fire" Gomer ordered grimly as he looked on. The archers let loose their arrows, able to get much closer, but still at a safe distance, due to the lack of enemy archer to fire back.