Where the Crows Gather [IC | Shirika | CLOSED]

[The Telosman Nations]

S I E G EO FT R E Y
Ravenshelm — Nietijd 1121

They had come a long way from home.

Weary and worn were their sandals from the long march, and weary were their bodies from fighting. Yet their swords and shields remained firmly in their hands, their feet remained firm with each and every step, and their spirits remained high. There in the distance, straddling the rich coast of the Alfheim Sea, lay their prize. The Kamranli were confident that the high walls that surround the city of Trey—those same walls that have protected the city and its inhabitants for years—will soon be brought down with the same weapons of war they used against the cities that once stood in their way. No fortress is truly impregnable, the generals would keep repeating to the soldiers, for they shall come down by the hands of mortals or of the great spirits.

The Kamranli were descended from a people of the west hardened by the elements and by war—a people that once brought great cities like Trey to the ground. The west had been always been harsh to mortals, as if the gods didn't want anyone to venture beyond the steppes, but these nomads were born into the wilderness, exposed to the harsh conditions of the plains that made them a hardened people. The history of the Telosmen—however short their entry was in the history books of the civilized world—was full of tales of nomadic warriors that suddenly appeared to the west of the nations. They were described as a violent people that struck fear into the hearts of their enemies, turned fertile rivers that were the lifeblood of civilizations into rivers of blood, and burning entire towns and cities that refused to submit to their rule. Their horses often kicked up so much dust into the air that their arrival was described to be like the coming of a sandstorm.

Now it seemed, a sandstorm was about to come down on the city's gates.

It had been a few months since the Kamranli had laid siege to the city of Trey. Swords continued to clash with swords, arrows continued to fly above their heads, and boulders continued to be lobbed at her walls without end. The field that separated the invading army from the city was turned into a field of blood, where thousands upon thousands perished at the tip of spears and swords—no different from the bloody swath that the Kamranli had etched into the earth. Body piles littered the field, and some of them served as barriers for any brave soul that would want to climb on and face their enemies on the other side. Meanwhile the Kamranli fleet was surrounding the coastline, blocking any ships from ever leaving or entering the city. This siege was to be expected, for Ravenshelm had been bracing for an invasion for years. They saw how kings and kingdoms were easily conquered by these warmongerers from across the sea, and now the time had come for them to face the might of the Telosmen waiting outside their door.

Farid had been fighting alongside his men in the heat of battle, cutting down every foe that he came across as he rode through the field on horseback. He didn't stop to take his gaze off his enemies to see if a boulder had finally broken through the walls, if the gates were finally breaking at the hinges, or if his men were riding with him. All he could care about was his sword and their sword. Nothing else. His men—riders that have fought with him for all his life—followed him as he led the charge at the enemy cavalry that was also coming at them. The two groups collided, with horse falling upon horse and man falling upon man. More fighting ensued, but the Kamranli horsemen were able to defeat them quickly. He took a brief pause to finally afford a hard look at the scene that was all around him.

His confidante, Nijat, could sense that the Captain looked troubled. He had never seen Farid's face turn as pale as now before in his life. He knew the man well, and he learned under him, rode the plains with him, and fought with him ever since the beginning—he knew that his leader has never shown a distressed expression on his face, not even in the most gruesome of battles. War was always something that was not for the faint of heart, but that had never bothered his mentor. What could have changed in him? "Is something the matter, my lord?" he spoke up.

"Hm?" Farid turned around and faced him. "Nothing, Nijat. I have told you many times before my boy, you best not be too concerned for me."

"Nay," the young man impulsively refused. "I have been taught to never ignore the troubles of another man, my lord. This day I have decided not to cast it aside, not even for your sake."

Who in the entire world among the children of the steppes had taught him such things? "Perhaps they have also forgotten to teach you to worry only about yourself," retorted Farid. "Never concern yourself with my troubles lest you want to forget about yours."

He has certainly become more keen, the Captain thought. He hoped that the gods would keep the boy blind to the chaos that was happening before his eyes. As he saw men-in-arms in the distance clashing swords atop the unrecognizable corpses of the slain, he began to wonder if Trey was really worth the blood of all these warriors. The great spirit of the earth would be angry at the pollution of her body. If this sight was enough to perturb him, surely it would be more so for Nijat. He was goign to know in his own time. As he set off to ride once more, he bid his men, "Come, follow."

The task was still before them—stop and harass any relieving forces that may be coming from within the city or from without. The cavalry continued to circle the city as before, encountering the enemy as they went. They were given a great view of the scene before them, with the tents and siege weapons of the Kamranli to their left, and the city, field, and infantry to the right. From on top of the walls they saw archers let loose their arrows, watching them fall on the Telosmen that got too close. Should they shift their focus towards the battlefield, they would see infantry with swords and shields rushing towards the other with fanatical vigor. It would be about time before the soldiers of Trey would finally give in, Farid believed—those men were starving from the siege, they were exhausted, and yet they still had to gaze at the Kamranli outside their walls.

But then his ears caught the faint sound of a horn blowing from the top of a hill. His horse whinnied and raised its front legs as he yanked on the harness. There in the distance he could see a cloud of dust approaching the city with great speed, accompanied by the sound of rolling thunder. Another sandstorm had come to Trey, but Farid knew that the gods had not sent them a cloud to blind them, no. This was a cloud made by an approaching army, by mortals.

"Reinforcements, my lord?" asked a cavalryman. He thought that more Kamranli were coming to help, for the armies of Esani were never capable of making such a display of terror as they were.

Farid squinted and gazed into the cloud, seeing flags that were not at all recognizable to them. He muttered, "That is not the sound of a ram's horn, nor is that the songs of our ancestors." Pointing his finger at the direction of the camp he commanded, "Elnur, return to the camp and inform the generals. The rest of you, pray to the gods that we do not meet our end but should it come nonetheless we accept it. Ride as you breathe strength into your bones and fire into your hearts!"

"We ride with you!" yelled the horsemen in unison, raising their scimitars in the air. Should the siege of Trey be lengthened once again, they were willing to fight to the last man to do it.

[Ravenshelm]

From the walls, the governor of the Trade Coast province looked out. He saw the dead horsemen that had come upon the city of Trey, as he had always known they would. But now a new sight came into his eyes: the sound of reinforcements.
From where or from whom, he did not know, but these were not the barbaric screams the brutes had uttered when rushing to the city's walls a few months ago. Luckily, the archers at Trey were ready and prepared, and wave after wave of the men fell dead to the arrows of Ravenshelm.
Luckily, the city of Trey was prepared for a long siege. The Raven King himself knew that the Kamranli horde would come to attack Ravenshelm's newest posession, and took great care to prepare it. Soon, the great walls of Trey were raised, using all the Raven King had to offer. Trey would not fall easily.

[Vurenburg]

The clanking of metal plates and cloud of dust followed the Elven Armies as they marched towards Trey too defeat the savage Kamranli that were besieging the city. In charge of the massive army sent by Vurenburg, the Understates and their allies was Duke Jochem van Lÿndow . Queen Alicia had sent 5 Krijgsbendes for the Elven Coalition. A sentinel walked up to General Lÿndow.

"Mijnheer a group of enemies are heading this way. Your orders Mijnheer?"

The General looked at some drummers to give the signal to order the Archers to ready their long bows to rain down arrows upon the savages and have his men ready to pick off the survivours. The General kept his fist raised and closed and waited for the enemy to get in perfect range for his archers to begin their barrage of arrows; when the enemy got in range he shifty motioned his hand forward and a loud bang from the drums echoed followed by the sound of the archers releasing their arrows.

[The Telosman Nations]

S I E G EO FT R E Y
Ravenshelm — Nietijd 1121

Elnur had finally made it back to the camp, just in time to see one of the generals about to ride out with his men. He seemed to be readying a large group of cavalry to ride out towards the battlefield, unaware that there was an approaching army. The cavalryman rode as fast as he can—he didn't stop until he had met up with the general. His horse cried with a loud whinny and lifted its front legs in the air as Elnur stopped in front of the riders, much to the general's chagrin.

"What's the reason for getting in my way, boy?" he snorted, his voice raspy as a stray dog's bark.

Elnur bowed his head before he gave the troubling news. "Forgive me general," he spoke with great urgency in his tone. "But there is another army that has just arrived. They may have been sent to relieve our enemies from the siege. We need reinforcements!"

The general gazed to his left and saw where the army was, and Farid's men opposite of them. The Kamranli were woefully few in number compared to the unknown foes, he observed—they would be annihilated. "Where have they come from?"

"I don't know, milord," Elnur bowed again. He made a broad guess. "Maybe from a kingdom friendly to the Raven people."

The general seemed to hesitate. He didn't know whether it would be prudent to keep with the plans he had created earlier or to prevent the oncoming army from breaking the siege. After all, the city wasn't going to last any longer if the Kamranli continued to beat hard on them. Sighing he told the cataphract, "Stay here and tell this to the other generals. They need to know."

"And what about you, milord?" Elnur stared briefly at the general's horse before gazing back at the general again.

He knew why this man had come here, but he wasn't going to give up a large portion of his army to reinforce the ranks of a captain. Not when the momentum needed to be maintained. "Izar," he ordered, "go with this man. He will guide to where you are to go. The rest of you, move out." While the rest of the army marched slowly towards the city, the token force the general had provided remained with Elnur. The hairy man stopped his horse beside Elnur's as he laconically asked, "Where to?"

Meanwhile Farid took another glance at the horizon as the dust began to clear. The enemy had come in full force. Their army was unlike the ones that they have fought for years, for he could sense that they had been brought up by conflict, forged from the unforgiving anvil of war like he was. He could hear their thundering shouts echoing across the hills—the sound of which was like the cry of a host of lions. Their armor, covering men and their horses in skins of steel from head to toe, glistened brilliantly in the sun. He had never seen so many horsemen clad in armor before. For the first time he could feel fear begin to course in his veins. Were these the feared men of the East? He had heard of the tales that his men had gleaned from the locals—tales about a people that once ruled the known world with an iron fist, trampling every other kingdom, nation, and tribe underfoot—a people that rested the pillars of their proud civilization on the mastery of the arcane. If they had come to relieve the Treyans from the siege, this could spell bad fortune if he did not do something.

As the shouts of the men died down, he boldly raised his scimitar in the air for the foreign armies to see. He swiftly jerked his arm and pointed the tip of his sword at the enemy, and immediately drums began to sound behind his army. The battle had begun. The first ones to charge at the enemy were the horse archers—riders that were said to be able to shoot at an ear of wheat on horseback and not miss. Their skill was what brought fear into the hearts of the foes they encountered—a hallmark of the Telosman rider—for they could just attack men and horses quickly and disappear before the enemy could ever touch them.

The earth was beaten like a drum by the hooves of hundreds of horses, commencing the overture of the battle. The archers immediately drew their bows even as their horses galloped their hardest, aiming at the sky. Once the enemy was in range, the command was given, and they let loose their arrows. A few seconds passed before a second barrage followed, and then a third. The enemy had shot arrows at them as well—now it seemed that both sides had arrows that were going to rain on them. Sensing this, the horsemen split into two groups. The Kamranli cavalry had managed to escape the enemy's attack unharmed, though there have been some that were struck or thrown off their horses because of the arrows. As soon as they had evaded, the horsemen began retreating away from the enemy while another group of archers rushed to take their place, loosing their arrows at the enemy as well. More archers came and went, replacing the ones the preceded them, showering a great barrage of arrows at the unknown hostiles. The enemy wasn't going to escape this alive.

[Vurenburg]

S I E G EO FT R E Y
Ravenshelm — Nietijd 1121

General Lÿndow motioned his arm forward followed by a loud thud from the drums giving the orders for his heavy cavalry to charge the enemy forces along with another order for his archers to fire another barrage of arrows with the Battlemages firing fireballs into the air to provide cover for the cavalry as they charged the human army bearing the eagle of Vurenburg. As the cavalry charged General Farid's forces some of their horses were struck by the enemy barrage of arrows dismounting them, the remainder continued pressing forward.

The Terathic General looked at the battle and looked at one of his advisors.

"Where's the Drotharii Army?"

"Unknown your Highness."

Lÿndow didn't in most particular like the idea of relieving the siege with the Drotharic General's help—after all relieving the siege of Trey with the help of the Drotharii would show the unity of the elven races; something that Queen Alicia would much enjoy.

[Tribes of Sharna]

S I E G EO FT R E Y
Ravenshelm — Nietijd 1121

Vashnak Vashlaksson, Captain of the Fang Company, listened to the conversation of General Lÿndow and grunted.

”Flowerbloods,” he scoffed in his native tongue. He raised his horn to mouth and gave a long blow. From far off and far above, a pair of horns answered. He nodded, then turned to the general. “If you need me, I’ll be with my warriors, earning my coin.”

He rode away from the elves and joined the rest of the company. The overwhelming majority were orcs, though there were a few assorted others. A couple dozen hobgoblins, some humans, and his elvish lieutenant, Elgandir Teithion, the only one mounted on a horse. Vashnak laid eyes on his adopted human daughter, Tyra Vashnaksdottir, her hair in the tight, beaded braids favored by female orcs and her skin bearing the tattoos of his Wolfrider tribe. She sat astride her albino warg, watching their enemy through narrow slits.

Vashnak nodded, then lifted his horn to his lips and blew three times. A great shout went up from the riders, axes and swords raised high. Vashnak nudged his own warg forward, leading his warriors towards the enemy. The company followed closely and the horde rapidly accelerated, their wargs loping across the battlefield.

“Shields!” he called as enemy arrows came towards the Fangs. The warriors raised their shields over head and continued racing across the field. The arrows struck them with loud thuds. Other arrows struck the wargs. Two were killed, spilling their cursing riders on the earth, but the rest fought through the pain. A few stopped to grip the shafts in their powerful jaws and rip the arrows from their flesh before continuing on. The Fangs’ warg-cavalry closed the distance to the enemy riders, a deadly wedge of muscle and claws and fangs and steel.

But there were two riders that would beat all the others to the enemy lines because their mounts could do more than leap to free themselves from the ground.

---

There were only two orcs in all of the Fang Company that hailed from the Stormraider Tribe. Easy enough to understand, as their tribe, despite the name, had never relied on raiding as a manhood ritual. For Stormraiders, you were a man when you took to the skies on a wyvern. Still, there were always a few with too much of the tribes wanderlust to be bound to forests and mountains of Sharna, and those few found company with the orc mercenary bands like the Fang Company.

The two orcs heard the horn blow from far below. The signal for them to attack. They answered the horn, then eased their wyverns onto the path. One pointed at the advancing Telosman vanguard and the other nodded. They angled their wyverns, then began their dive. The earth rapidly approached the wyvern-riders, the wind ripping at their helmets. With practiced precision, the wyverns spread their leathery wings at seeming the last moment, re-angling their motion from down to forward. The great beasts shifted their weight and brought their talons forward as they made their final approach to the Telosman cavalry.

[The Telosman Nations]

S I E G EO FT R E Y
Ravenshelm — Nietijd 1121

As the horsemen were returning from their attack, balls of fire rained upon them from the sky. Some of the archers were terrified, for it seemed that their enemies had laid hold on the source of the arcane. Others were struck by the fire, setting their bodies aflame. Some of the horses were frightened so much that they threw off their riders as they ground their hooves into the dirt. Yet there were some who rode as fast as they could while fire was falling all around them, reuniting with their comrades on their side of the field. More horsemen rode out with their arrows at the ready and braved the blazing ground between the two armies, firing another wave of arrows into the sky. But brave as the Kamranli were in their endeavors, they were faced against powers created by the gods at the foundations of the world—forces that very few living creatures have fully understood—and men who had been bestowed with it to make war against them.

Yet Farid felt that they weren't going to be held down by his archers for long. He saw that the enemy was beginning to move towards his own forces. The ground trembled with the sound of thunder as their iron horsemen were descending on him. Fear once again filled his heart—he knew that his own heavy cavalry would not survive an encounter with them. He had to make his move now, or brutally face the enemy's cavalry.

He raised his scimitar and twirled it in the air. Immediately the drums changed their tune, and the Kamranli cavalry began to charge at the Elven forces. These Kamranli were the famed men of chains, the dreaded horsemen that once rode through the plains and ravaged everything in their path. These served as the frontmen of the Kamranli forces as they marched through Esani unopposed by any fool that would dare face them. With them facing formidable adversaries of comparable strength and prowess on the battlefield, it was expected to be an epic clash. Horse clashed against horse, and sword against sword as the Terathii and the Kamranli collided on the battlefield.

Meanwhile, Elnur had just brought additional reinforcements to Farid's troops, and just in time as the fight was beginning. He directed them to join with the cavalry of his captain to increase their numbers. Some of them were hit in return with the enemy's own arrows, but the others kept on riding in and out in seemingly perfect coordination. But then he heard a multitude of shouts coming from some of the riders. "Orcs!" yelled Izar as the spotted them and their feral steeds. The response was immediate: the Kamranli extended their swords and stood atop their horses in anticipation of their foes' attacks.

As they were about to clash with their foes, the Kamranli horsemen heard a resounding roar reverberate from the sky. Two wyverns appeared out of the clouds, descending on them like the awful beasts of the Lord of the Air. They swooped to the ground and spread their wings, and the horsemen were struck with fear. Many of them were knocked off their horses, and a few more were grabbed by the beasts' talons. Farid's cavalry formation seemed to break apart as the Kamranli retreated in terror from the chaos stirred up by those mad beasts. But he then ordered his men to regroup. As he was returning from the carnage, he signalled his archers to ready their bows and pin the wyverns down. But before they could do that, the Orcs had used the opportunity to break through the formation, opening a way for the enemy to reach the city.

The roars echoed even to the camp, and the soldiers looked to the sky and saw the wyverns as well. The commander-in-chief of the Empire's armies, Bey Demir Izzet Mazhar, stared at the beasts in their awesome and terrifying form. His commanders did the same and trembled—they had never seen monsters on this side of the Sea before. Seeing that his men were beginning to lose heart, he turned around his horse and yelled, "Are you just going to be petrified at those things? Özteluz, ready the ballista, now!"

The Agha nodded at the Bey's command and rode off to the camp with some men. They stopped by a large wooden wagon that was tethered to two draft horses. Immediately Özteluz got off his horse and onto the wagon, while another soldier entered through the back. His comrades surrounded the wagon with their own horses and rode out with it to the battlefield. This was most likely going to be a risky move, as it meant riding out to where the chaos was, but it was necessary if they were going to bring those wyverns down. Once they were within range, the wagon was stopped and opened to reveal its contents: a large brown weapon that looked like a giant crossbow, mounted on a swivel. The operator mounted the first bolt and cranked it, training its sights on its first target. Özteluz kept his eye on the beasts, waiting for the right moment. Once the wyvern has turned around and faced the ballista, he knew that it was going to be a sure hit. Özteluz gave the order, and a bolt was launched from the weapon and up to the sky, speedily heading for the wyvern's head.

Not holding his breath just yet, Özteluz then ordered the operator to ready a second bolt and keep his eye on the flying beast. He needed just one more to bring that thing down.

[Tribes of Sharna]

S I E G EO FT R E Y
Ravenshelm — Nietijd 1121

The massive talons of the wyverns ripped a gaping wound in the side of the Kamranli cavalry formation. Vashnak could hear their commander desperately ordering them back into order, but there was no time for that. The orcs spurred their wargs on and crashed into the opening. The wargs at the front of the formation didn’t even stop, instead climbing onto and over the nearest cavalry to hit those deeper in the formation while those towards the rear continued into those bounded over. Massive, powerful jaws closed on screaming horsemen. Long claws ripped open the bellies of horses. Gleaming sword cleaved into necks and bodies. This little hill in the fields of Trey became the first killing ground of the battle, advantage to the relievers.

---

High above, the two Stormraiders circled up to prepare for the next ordered attack. The orcs peered down at the battlefield, surveying the formations of the sieging armies.

With little warning, a bolt materialized, jammed through the lead wyvern’s snout from bottom to top. The flying beast bellowed it’s fury at the injury and shook its head wildly to dislodge the offending dart. The orc could could barely keep any sort of control as he forced his mount to swerve and avoid a second dart. The two riders changed their pattern to avoid the ballistae they sighted on the ground, hatefully eyeing it. How dare these pinkskins wound their wyverns?

The lead orc carefully climbed from his saddle, speaking softly to his wyvern and stroking its head with one hand as the other worked him closer to the bolt. He drew his sword and with a careful motion lopped off the barbed head, sending in falling to the ground below, then reached down and pulled free the remaining portions still embedded in the beast.

He returned to his saddle and considered a moment, then reached over into his satchel and pulled out a jar. He held it aloft so his compatriot could see it, then opened his mouth wide and chattered his teeth a few times. His partner nodded, then grabbed out his own jar from a satchel. They both struck a bit of flint onto their saddles and lit wicks jutting from the jars.

The two wyverns were guided out before turning back to the ballistae. Each came at the siege weapon from opposing directions, dodging the bolts it flung. They passed near enough the machine and hurled their jars before darting away and once more rising high above the battlefield.

Where the jars struck, oil splashed over the surrounding surfaces. Where oil splashed, the wicks caught to flame. Soon the dusts raised by the feet of soldiers was joined by the smoke of fire.