Scouting Party

Fashi looked out over the desert sea, hidden behind his dusty white robes and covering as the light began to finally seep over the mountainous waves of dunes that sat in the distance. Traces of glimmering light slithered between the waves of sand, striking the burnt desert sand, creating an almost glittery look from rocks, positioned just right in the sand that reflected the light, like stars in the clear night sky. Pulling his robes tighter Fashi gentely kicked his camel, sending it forward down the steep slope of the dune he was perched on.

"There's a camp, not far from here." Came the low, muffled voice of another robed man. Moments later several more men on camel's appeared, converging on the growing group of scouts as they pushed forward, their camels like ships of the desert, the sand flowing against them as the camels traversed the harsh sandy desert.

"Baibars by the looks..." came the voice of one of the scouts.

"..Along with others we've yet to identify." said another.

Fashi was silent for a moment. He could feel the living beast underneath him, it's movements slow and careful, a sort of grace not noticed by many. Unlike the horse's they rode in the northern planes and central valley, the camel was more ideal for desert travel, and embodied the strength and indurance required to live in such a harsh and unforgiving environment. Like himself. He laughed to himself.

"Raise the standards, fan out on the flank's."

Fashi's eyes looked to his left and right as they slowly broke apart, several feet separating them men and their mounts, the tribal standard strapped to the rear of the camel so that it stood high and proud in the morning wind. The camel underneath him grunted, lifting its feet as they began the climb up another dune, the sand blowing gentely off the top, swarming around them like a mini typhoon before colliding with the white and yellow robes of the Ra'Gada men. The sky finally peeked over the dune as Fashi's eyes met the bright light of Magnus, his hand springing to his face to shield him from the rays of light before looking down on the large encampment of men and beasts.

"Hold your ground!" he shouted. "Let them approach us.."

Baibars

As Shirkuh left the Khan's tent, he noticed something from the corner of his eye. A group of men, with a tribal banner... The Barcas? What do they wish from us? Hadn't they joined the War..? Or perhaps HoonDing was not with us and it is already over... The warlord turned around, intending to inform his brother of the men, only to discover that Baibars had already left his tent.

"Gather some bows, we do not know their intentions. You cannot be too careful." The Khan instructed, mounting his horse. "I'll need you as well." He added, looking as Shirkuh nodded and hurried off to assemble the party of horse archers that Baibars had requested. Where is Helios? A thought creeped into his head as he watched how the banner of the Ayuub tribe was raised in front of the camp.

Ayuub Encampment

Helios and his company were already packing their gear as the sun's rays lit the desert sands. Morning had come and hope and purposer were once again restored in the hearts of his men and women. Today they would move closer to Hammerfell's freedom. All around him, his men and women were rolling up their beds and saddling their beasts, anticipating orders to move out.

Helios had just finished slipping his mail cuirass over his shoulders when a messenger came running up. "Our Khan asks that you meet him in his tent as soon as you can." Nodding to the man, he turned his head over to where Neesha was readying her own gear.

"Neesha, please continue to oversee the company. Our honored Khan has requested my presence. I'll be back shortly." He knew she'd have the entire company saddled and ready by the time he got back.

Turning back to the messenger, he nodded again to the man. "Lead on as I do not know the way."

The messenger lead Helios on a snaking trail through the Ayuub camp, weaving a path through the myriads of tents and men. Helios was obviously an outsider as he caught a multitude of stares from the Ayuub tribesman. It was not often that a man of the cities was present among them. Smiling as best he could, he followed quickly after the messenger before finally arriving at their chosen destination. Nodding his thanks to the man, he saw the Khan already mounted on his horse. Bowing his head, he spoke, "Khan Baibars, how may I and my company be of service to you?"

Baibars

Baibars gestured towards the banner. "That is the banner of the Barcas. You will have heard of them, for they have joined the War in its early stages. I am traveling with a party of men to meet them and find out what do they want, and I would ask you to accompany me. Furthermore, I ask you - will you accompany me and my tribe to Sentinel? You will take very long to reach it by shore, but we know where to travel to reach it faster, where to find food and water for our mounts and ourselves. My people travel fast, and you would reach the War much faster."

OOC: Argh, crap-post again...

Helios

Helios thanked Tall Papa inwardly. This was an answer to his prayers. The desert that had originally been an obstacle was now the path they sought.

"I am humbled by your invitations and am deeply honored to accept them. My company is yours to deploy as you see fit if you should so wish. I will get my horse as it is already saddled and return with haste."

He could see the banner of the Barcas standing against the desert sky. The Barcas were well known across Hammerfell for their fighting prowress and their devotion to the Ra Gada way. Why they were here in this part of the Alik'r was obviously a question Baibars was seeking to answer.

Bowing his head to the Khan, he made his way to return to his company and to his horse. He had made a mental note of the route through the camp he had taken with the messenger and found his way back without much difficulty. As expected, Neesha had the company packed up; each man and woman standing with their horses reigns in hand. Smiling, he walked the last few paces to Neesha who was holding both her own horse and his. "The Khan has offered us safe travel with the Ayuub through the desert. It also appears that the Barcas tribe is here as well. Khan Baibars does not know why and is riding out to meet them and has asked me to accompany him. Tall Papa smiles on us. I will be back shortly I hope."

"I gues we can wait for you. Don't fall off you horse and look like a fool in front of everyone." Neesha added with a smile.

"I'll do my best." Helios returned the smile as he took the reigns and mounted his horse. Spurring his horse back the way he came, he was at the Khan's side in no time.

Baibars

As soon as Helios left, Shirkuh replaced him, mounted on his desert horse. "Why do you take him with us? He knows little of the ways of the nomads. We do not need him." The warlord voiced his oppinion, starring to the narrow passage between two rows of tents through which Helio had left.

"Say that you do not want him, and you will be correct. While he may not know the ways of the nomads as well as we or any of our tribe, he knows the ways of city dwellers. Our people are harsh as the sun and straightforward as the planes; his are the opposite. Remember that father always said that if we would need a messenger, a city dweller will be much better than a nomad." Baibars responded, before turning away. "Whether you like it or not, Helios will come with us. He could be useful."

The two brothers remained silent until Helios returned; then, Shirkuh signaled for the small group to move out of the camp, and they rode out, quickly covering the distance between the Ayuub camp and the Barca banner.

Signaling his men to stop, Baibars rode out ahead. "I see you ride under the Barca banner. I am Khan Baibars Ayuub; if you are the rightful bearers of this banner, you are no enemies of my tribe. If you are not, you would be wise to leave or else you shall face certain death."

As if to back up this threat, one by one the titanic desert striders began rising behind the Ayuubs' back, moaning loudly to the rising sun.

Scouting Party

Fashi's eye's squinted from behind his white robed covering, the wind whistling in his ear as the cool wind seeped through the small slit that exposed his eyes and part of his upper face. He surveyed the area, the dunes rising and falling against the sun crisped desert sky before falling to meet with the tented encampment of Ayuub's. A tribe on the move it would seem, like his own people, they moved through the desert and plain territories as an entire people, no single place to call home, outcasts to normal society, keepers of the 'true' Ra'Gada way. Slowly, Fashi pushed his camel forward, followed by two other of his brethren who quickly joined him on both sides of his camel to meet the Ayuub's.

"I see you ride under the Barca banner. I am Khan Baibars Ayuub; if you are the rightful bearers of this banner, you are no enemies of my tribe. If you are not, you would be wise to leave or else you shall face certain death." Came the voice of the man called Baibars. Fashi had heard of him, the Ayuub's we're a well respected tribe known amongst the Barca. The earth seemed to rumble, the desert itself almost seeming to collapse in on itself as the massive desert walker rose from the earth, its massive leg's and body seemed to creak as it rose, letting out a loud and powerful groan that unnerved the camels and men.

Grabbing hold of his camel's neck fur he calmed the beast, pulling it back slightly away to gain some short distance from the massive Lutemonster that towered above. "Great Khan Baibars Ayuub." Fashi began, giving a respectful, short bow.

"I am Fashi Al'sier, A Bedouin Warrior of the Barca." the words were somewhat muffled by the white covering. Raising his hand, Fashi uncovered his weathered and worn face, revealing the tribal markings on his face. "Your people are far from home, we suggest your turn back to avoid the coming blood shed that will soon wash over this land."

"War has come."

Dragon Grove

The sounds of battle we're still fresh in his head, and could be seen on the weary faces of his many men who slept cramped together in their makeshift town of animal hide tents, secured by the city walls. A great sound could be heard in the distance, the sound of more battle. A small group of men had left the town earlier that night, only to return at mornings break, and now it seemed they we're ready to leave again. Bomilkar watched from the ramparts as they moved about, they seemed to be leaving again, but he had no idea where, or for what. Certainly no word of an attack or defense had been mentioned to him, and it wasn't like Adonibal to keep him in the dark so.

Bomilkar moved down the ramparts, his eyes glued to the distant sound of combat and war, yet his mind wandered to several different places. It touched on his sisters whereabouts, it touched on how the northern campaign was going and finally settled on the most disturbing matter at hand. Could he be too late? Battle and politics had set him behind. Hauron had changed plan's in an ever moving plot that required the different pieces to move in sync, and it seemed he was lagging behind.

"Cousin!" Bomilkar shouted, banging on Adonibal's door after locating his residence. "What's going on?"

Hanno's Column

Hanno's gaze feel on the far end of the narrow corodoor they had traveled. A forced march through the night and into the mourning had led them to the base of the massive mountain that now looked as if it was on fire, the light barely peeking out from the rocky and stone wall that covered their right flank, with the sea shielding their left. A low sigh of relief escaped his mouth, unwraping his desert cloth, revealing the relieved, yet tired and dusty face of the old warrior turned Il-Khan.

"We should be meeting Saladin soon." Hanno said, turning the Hasturbal. "He and the rest of the army should be here by now.."

"I'll ride head with a hundred men to scout the area.." Hasturbal spoke up. He had been silent nearly the whole time, speaking only when necessary. The blank, almost painful, yet emotionless stare had finally lifted as he spurred his horse forward for a short distance, turning it sharply to face Hanno. "It will give you time to rest and unload the rest of the supplies from the ships, I'll send a rider back once we've located Saladin's force and report what we find."

Hanno looked at him hard. "Your sure? Brother?" he asked, not yet convinced of his sanity after seeing the slaughter at Porthago.

"Yes.." was all he said. There we're no words between them, just silent nod's as Hasturbal rode off with one hundred Bull Warriors into the distance.

Baibars

Baibars sighed, removing the cloth from his face as well. "We know this all too well. Soldiers march in the lands of our ancestors, steel-clads from Cyrodiil as they call it. They have not disturbed us under my father directly, but they have driven off our hunted animals, and did not leave much behind themselves for us to feed our herds on. Had they not upset the balance, trust me, we would not be here. However they have, and although some of my people still believe this is not our war, we march to Sentinel, to aid the city dwellers. It has been resolved that either we will give all we can and win, or fall in a manner worthy of the Warrior Wave."

As Baibars spoke, Shirkuh rode up alongside him, saying nothing, keeping his headcloth on his face and his hand on the handle of his scimitar. Behind, the Ayuub archers stood, their grim eyes starring either at Fashi and his men or their Khan and Warlord; some occasionally glanced at Helios, wondering silently why had the Khan decided to take him along. Most still held their bows in hand, the more distrustful ones grasped arrows to be able to quickly notch them into their composite bows if this meeting was to take an unexpected turn.

After a slight pause, Baibars spoke again. "We have heard the Barcas took to the War earlier. Tell me, how goes it for our warriors? Scarce news reach us in the southern plains, even of something as urgent as this war. Travelers are scarce, and city dwellers keep their news to themselves lately."

IC:

Bangkorai Pass

"ARBALESTS!" Kizaam shouted out again, with the Breton Lord nowhere in sight to command them into battle the new marksmen were unsure as to what to do.

The more experienced and war independent Crownsworn immediately began readying their weapons.

Commanders began barking out orders to the men, a 5,000 pound draw....

The front was in shambles, men were screaming and moaning as the Crownsworn impaled the ground with their pavise shields, their arbalests steadying atop.

The Crossbow militia men attempted to do the same, but the Crownsworn detachment commanders wasted no time in waiting for the amateurs.

"Take aim, 1...2...3....Pull!"

The sound of steel and wire slapping, along with two thousand heavy bolts of steel zipping over the heads of all the men in the front ranks of the army (who ducked under their shields in fear) clapped throughout the pass.

Kizaam took the moment to shout to the men.

"KILL! KILL! KILL!" he roared out, the men beside him were traumatized by the wounded, civilian militia from the rear of the army began working their way up, attempting to move them to the back, very risky, very unprofessional for an army, but professional for a medic.

Men began cheering the war cry, "KILL! KILL! KILL!"

Dragongrove battlefield
There was a cheer sent up by the men once they saw the hated Ansei die. In the quiet around a campfire, or as they drifted off to a clod and uncomfortable sleep in the desert, most would admit, even if only to themselves, that they admired the enemy fighters. The Swordsingers and Ansei were truly awe inspiring and amazing men. But here on this battlefield, in the dirty dawn, their blood splashed like a velvet carpet across the ground; and the Marines took joy in their deaths.

"Lets go boys, Mind your intervals! come on now! Tighten up!" a sergeant barked. the command was echoed in different terms until the battle line of axe and pike men began to straighten itself out. They held their ground, fought, died and killed in turn. but they did it all with that terrible battle joy that most feel but few are proud of. The death of the sorceress however was taken hard. Gasps and groans of bitter disappointment took the place of elation.

Dawnstar


"I'm glad you can see reason." The imperial said before he slurped at his steaming mead. "Arrangements will be made immediately for the exchange. Your POWs will be brought here to Dawnstar, and we shall bring ours. By these rather extended means, you can be assured that our men will not reenter combat anytime soon. Now, as for your demands of independence, you have heard what the council has seen fit to grant you. I ask you, is this not unreasonable?"

The court of the Lord Helseth
Septimus pulled out his grubby clay pipe from it's pouch on his belt. The stem had cracked again, leaving no more than three inches inbetween his mouth and the bowl. The tobacco he mashed into the bowl was fragrant and pleasant, smelling sweetly like brown sugar, flin and oranges. As he listened to the Breton messanger and Helseth exchange words, he struck flint on steel and lit his tinderbox to in turn light the pipe. As he stood there and puffed away, he visibly winced upon hearing of the plundering. He had completely forgot about the attack on the dunmer baggage wagon. Nothing had been done in retribution and it had simply fell into the background noise of the campaign. Stupid. Goddamned stupid, lazy and careless...

Aquila inhaled deeply and sighed.

Sentinel, docks Warehouse
Rianorix had finally given in. Sleep had overcome him. He had fought it, long and hard...three days straight. Three days of constant action. running climbing sneaking and fighting. Three days. But now it was up, and he lay curled in the back of the dingy warehouse, wrapped in a canvas tarp, breathing softly. His eyelids flicked and he mouthed noiseless words as terrors and nightmares beset him.

Lainlyn gap, Bangkorai Pass
Jarkko Koskinen crouched in the small slit trench that sat in between the two forces. Arrows rained and screamed through the air overhead as his small force of only a few scouts cowered in the cover of the hastily dug earthworks. The Nord spat a glob of mucus on the ground as he trained his spyglass towards the enemy. He had to find out what was going on before he could withdrawl. Groups of what seemed to be professionals and militia alike were advancing towards them. Bolts and arrows cut the air overhead as Jarkko tried to think about what to do. He and his men had only be told to scout and report, not get stuck in a all out battle. He was worried...caught between two armies was not a good place to be.

"Right. ready your bolts. We're going to loose a volley once they get close enough. Aim for officers and anyone important. Then we get the hell out of here." He said in a calm and gruff voice. The other men in the trench nodded quickly. They were all terrified and straining against the urge to run. "Just wait till they're close enough for us to not miss...remember officers and leaders. Don't waste your quarrels on foot soldiers."

Saladin's army
A messenger galloped down the winding dirt path, sticky with sweat and dust, his eyes were exausted but excited. Guillaume looked disinterested the entire time. He was riding at the head of his band of crossbowmen and arbalestes, contentedly chewing on an orange.

"Molyneaux! your men are needed at the front! It's urgent!" The dirty redguard shouted as he came to a skidding stop in front of the Breton. The thin, hawkish knight deliberately took another bite, chewing it slowly before responding.

"Right then, we're on our way..."

Bangkorai Pass

OOC: Work in progress

OOC. Ding dong the witch is dead. Which old witch? The wicked witch


As Priscilla was spun around, she came face to face with the man she had gravely injured, the deadly Ansei. The last man she wanted to fight. " I..I'm..sor..ry..." She said weakly as a muscular hand closed around her thin throat, cutting off her air supply as he applied pressure, and inturn, preventing her from screaming for help. Sharp, painted nails dug into the flesh of his forearm as she tried her best to free herself, drawing lines of crimson across the Ra Gadas dark skin. She continued to struggle and fight, kicking him in the shens till the very end. Then it happened.

The pain was like nothing she had ever felt as the shehai pierced her stomach, punching out through her back in a crimson spray that lingered in the morning air for just a brief moment before being swept away by a gentle breeze. Blood flowed freely from the corners of her mouth, like the tears that flowed down her dirty, porcelain cheeks. It was made only more intense as the shehai was twisted before being ripped out as the Ansei fell back, from the battle and this world.

She landed with a thud, feet from the very man who killed her. A warm pool of blood began to form around her, to fast for the sands around her to soak up. She tried to scream, to do anything to get Christophers attention, but it was useless. " Chris...Christopher.." She said weakly as her vision began to fade and her body grew cool. The last thing she wanted was one last glimpse of him, but all she saw and heard was the fighting around her.

With a heavy sigh, she exhaled her last breath.

Meanwhile, Christopher having found a break from the fighting glimpsed around to find her and Ra'Kava. The large Cathay-raht was easy to find, sticking out like a sore thumb amid the nords, bretons, imperials, orcs, and the ra'gada scum. Priscilla wasn't so easy to find, and it took him several minutes before he found her.When he did so, wave after wave of emotion assaulted him. Fear, sorrow, anger...this potent mix of emotions washed over him, as he took off running towards her. " No! No! Gods no! Priscilla! "

He was by her side in a moment, passing Simithara and her newest toy, moving faster then one would think possible in the heavy armor he was wearing. He fell to the ground beside her, instantly placing her head in the cradle of his arm. Gently, he brushed her dirty, blood coated hair from her beatiful face.

Tears flowed freely, but he didn't give a damn at the moment. Nothing else in the entire world mattered at this moment. " I never wanted this..never this. It should have been me. I would have took your place without hesistation. " He said between breaths as he contined to sob.

Some of the few remaining knights formed a circle around their leader and his fallen love, protecting him in his time of grief. The few who dared to glance down, did so in horror, watching the women they all would have glady died for as she lay in the sand, torn violently from this world at so young of age.

Scouting Party

Fashi's eyes quickly darted around as Khan Baibars spoke. The men around them we're all armed, and a sort of hidden tension filled the air amongst them. Even now, no one knew who could be truly trusted. Many of the city-dwellers supported the Imperial way and occupation, while others stood, and yet few simply stood on the side lines, building their own kingdoms and fiefdoms out of the war torn and bloody countryside. Honor was more sacred amounst the brethren of the Alki'r and plains, but some men had their prices, and with the prospects of expanding territory, hunting and grazing lands, the lure of personal gain was becoming more and more appealing.

"The war spreads, and our warriors do their part." Fashi said weirly, the pains of battle echoed through his body and the scars and wounds, still fresh on his body, seemed to throb at the thought of it.

"The Siege of Sentinel is no more. The infidel's have been repelled and the war has moved from the coast, spreading northward, led by our new High King Hauron Ashir, while great Khan Bomilkar travels south to rally the cities and tribes of the central valley and coast to our cause. The war is within our grasps of victory."

Simithara's lips withdrew with agonizing slowness from Raza's, a trail of pale green dust following her as she pushed him gently aside. The same motes of fogged light steamed from Raza's empty eyes as he fell back into the sand, the magic snaking through his body. Sitting on her knees in the warmed morning sand, she turned to look to the crying Christopher, seeing the blood soaking the ground around his love.

A mix of emotions rushed through her. Elation at a death, elation at the death of Priscilla, sorrow at Christopher's pain, sorrow at the pain of the men now forming around the couple, and admiration for their sense of duty. She saw opportunity, business and personal. But they were separate opportunities, and she looked back to Raza as he began to live once more. Closing her mouth and setting her jaw, she looked back to Christopher and Priscilla, her index finger curling so the knuckle caressed the large ruby of the Vampiric Ring. Her decision was made, and she rose, moving with spectral grace to the scene of sorrow.

"I can bring her back." Her voice came smooth as silk, whisper soft and tantalizing delicate. As she looked at the crying knight, her emerald eyes seemed to soften for a moment, that harsh void of her pupils softening. Damn affections. But it does have one benefit. Bring her back, I'm guaranteed his allegiance. She kept the smile in her mind from showing on her face as she placed one hand on his shoulder. "Her death was recent enough, her body still warm. I can heal the wounds... and bring her soul back."


Helseth motioned for the letter to be given to him, the ebony finger moving slowly. He took the letter, opened it, and the red glow of his eyes through the slits of ebony wavered as he read. Finished, he rolled it up, snapped his right hand, and it sparked with a flame. That flame was brought to the letter, and it caught flame like bone-dry papyrus. It burned in the grasp of the ebony gauntlet, and Helseth snapped his fingers again, the flames going out instantly, just before it consumed the entire parchment. A small section, the bottom signature of Glenpoint's new commander, remained, and this the king showed the messenger.

"This name." Helseth stated slowly. "I do not recognize it, nor have I worked with him before. But I have dealt with Elysana before. Your story gives you some credence, but also makes me suspicious. However... you do have one benefit. None of my scouts explicitly recall your banner in the raiding parties." He placed purposeful emphasis upon the explicitly, before the remaining parchment of the letter incinerated in his hands.


"Are you supposed to be smoking around a king?" Jassan inquired softly from atop his chestnut stead, having come beside Aquila while he was looking at Helseth. However, before Aquila had the chance to even acknowledge the little Bosmer, Helseth's voice cut in.

"Who is this little beast that you allowed in?" He barked, making Jassan jolt upwards half a foot along with the Royal guards, who all had swords drawn the moment Jassan's feet had landed on the saddle. The small elf was standing straight atop the horse, hands up in a submissive pose. Several blades pointed at him, and he cracked a silly grin.

"Well?"

"Hehe... I'm Aquila's company, Your Highness. Sent by the Empire, to monitor his condition and ensure his safety and health." He slowly lowered his hands, placing them together and bowing respectfully. "I'm sure Your Highness has kept updated on recent issues, and so understands the reasoning behind my presence."

"Quite." Helseth snapped curtly back, waving his hand back at the guards to show Jassan could no longer be held at sword point. Jassan smiled appreciatively, lowering himself to a sitting position on the saddle. The King moved his attentions to Aquila. "Unless you have another plan for these Bretons, I'd like them to be the vanguard for whatever plans you have for my forces."

Court of the Lord Helseth
"Talos wept!" Aquila said, startled by the sudden appearance of the bosmer. his initial shock wassmoothed into an awkward sideways hiss as he continued. "I thought you were back with the baggage." As septimus heard the discussion turn to his health and safety, he sneered, much like a teenager being berated by his parents.



Aquila thought back briefly to his blueprint for Tartarus. He was trying to remember where the bretons came in...

"My Lord Helseth, The majority of the breton Cavalry are needed to support your force. I have turned over a copy of Operation Tartarus to your court. You will see in there that the Breton cavalry will be used following your own force. However if you feel that your own cavalry is inadequite, exceptions can be made. Ultimately though no more than a handful of these bretons can be made your vanguard." He said as patiently as he could muster. "I certainly have heard tales of the strength of Dres cavalry. combined with the fleshflies I have heard so much about I find it rather surprising that you'll need any other help at all."

Bangkorai Pass

A gradual rate of fire at full draw was used by the Dunmer but suddenly movement among the troops below was seen, and a moment later the vicious wisping sound of crossbows fired cut through the air. Two thousand bolts all aimed at Arvas and the three riders around him flew. Their cries and screams were mixed with the sound of flesh, bone and armor being torn and crushed. At the last moment Arvas managed to pull the reins of his horse causing it to fall over. Even so a bolt had cut his left leg enough that he would have trouble walking, but not riding. The three other Dunmer were mauled to pieces, their horses dead, no one was still alive but hurt.

Arvas then stood up his horse bringing himself up with it and lifted up his bow in sight of the enemy in defiance. He then turned around on his saddle toward the other horse archers and gave the signal for their next tactic. They would split up in two groups and go to the right and left of the road where two cliff like hills stuck out. They formed a shooting circle that ran clockwise in a manner in which only a fraction of the horse archers would be seen at any one time. In a full circle, two shots were made; one shot would be taken when the rider neared the edge at full draw shooting almost donward while the other when he was on the opposite side of the formation and in a higher angle arching over. This would provide a constant rate of fire on the enemy from two different sides forming a cross fire. The constant barrage of arrows would be unnerving and deadly and the formation would be highly difficult to hit as the riders were also moving constantly and formed a "hollow" formation.

Baibars

Baibars rose his eyebrows in surprise. "Sentinel is no longer under siege? That is welcome news, but..." The Khan rubbed his chin thoughtfully. If Sentinel herself did not need urgent help, where were they to ride to reach the war before it was over? His glance slid to his brother. However, Shirkuh was of no help - his eyes suggested he was as surprised as Baibars, if more mistrustful. With a sigh, the Khan continued speaking. "But if Sentinel herself requires no immediate help... Where are we to ride? If our victory is as close to fruition like you portray it, there is not much time for my tribe to interfere, but perhaps this gives us the abbility to interfere where we are most needed, and do so decisively." He voiced his thoughts, his eyes looking up to the sky.

Sun was rising. They'd need to ride as fast as they could to reach the War now... "Tell me, if there is one place where the city dwellers or your Khan requires help most, where would it be?"

Shirkuh shifted in his saddle silently. The prospect of fighting alongside the Barcas was much more welcome to him than what Baibars had in mind, fighting alongside the city dwellers... Even if the two tribes had entirely different ways of fighting.




Almalien

During the past few hours, Almalien was feeling like a sheep amongst wolves. A very confused but not scared sheep. He had no idea what was going on, and what was he supposed to do. The only thing he knew for sure was that there was a rebel army approaching, and that the Dres were going to engage it. From that point, everything got more and more obscure - he knew that the two sides were already combating somewhere, but where the battle occured, or why most of the army was still here was beyond him. He was no military man, and if it wasn't for the feeling he was about to be impaled by a spear or sword or arrow, he would've been quite bored...

Doing his best to blend in with the soldiers, Almalien couldn't help but feel unnerved. In a place like this, he couldn't comfortably observe his target, Andarys, because one step out of the ordinary and he'd be accused of breaking military discipline or some such. It was entirely different to what he did before, blending into a crowd of servants in another test to prove himself worthy by getting in close to assassinate some moronic noblemer of whichever house the Tong told him to, and leaving some undeniable mark of his presence there, which was done both so his masters would know he had fullfilled his objective and to scare the noble, who was usually not randomly picked but someone who was causing the Tong trouble, into behaving.

OOC: Aaaaack, I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!

IC:

Vulnim Gate

Marietta stretched painfully, as she stepped out of her tent, her back giving a protesting crackle to the sudden movement. Ugh... Sleeping on the cold ground, especially in as rocky of an area as Vulnim Gate, is not fun. Especially since this backwater little town apparently hadn't seen the necessity of paving their roads, and had left the roads where she and her soldiers had pitched tents nice and rocky and lumpy for the men. Fun times, since htey had come there to actually try and get rest after sleeping on rock and sand through their past. What a very nice change of pace.

She began to roll up her bedroll, just like everyone else around her seemed to be doing. Though none of them looked exactly thrilled about it, save for those that were coming traipsing out of the Inn, looking satisfied with themselves. Oh yes, they had spent the night on warm beds, nice and soft, while the officers had to sleep outside. Brilliant, Marietta, let the officers that had to command the troops get the less sleep. It'll keep morale up, but it'll also make the commanders a bit sloppier in battle, wonderful idea. Then again, her opinion was a little biased, as she had spent most of the night rolling about on her bedroll trying to avoid the rock that seemed insistent in pressing into the small of her back through the bedroll, and making her night just as uncomfortable and sleepless as it could.

With those bitterly sarcastic thoughts ringing through her mind, Marietta finally finished rolling up her bedroll, wrapping a leather strap around it to keep it nice and secure. It couldn't take up too much space, after all, and it would prevent it from springing open during the trip. Wherever it was they were going to head, since apparently the Legion lay even further North than she had expected. They had certainly moved surprisingly quick, for so many men.

Marietta sighed, rubbing her eyes with one hand. She supposed she should gather the men up, and get them ready to go and confront the rest of the Legion...

Scouting Party

"With the prospect of great victory comes also the prospect of great defeat, great Khan." Fashi began after Baibars finished, his eyes fixing on Baibars. "To the north the infidel army is great in number. Ash Elves from the west, pale skinned half lings from the north and the oppressors all stand together in defiance to our freedom. Word is they travel to Vulium Gate, where they intend to sweep into the central valley and meet with reinforcement in Gilane. We are vanguard for our Khan's march to Gilane and the Central Valley, the real battle is in the north."

"I'll send word to our Khan of your presence. We planned to sweep into the central valley, rallying the cities and tribes there to stand against the infidels before joining ilKhan Hanno Rashid and High King Hauron Ashir, trapping the infidels in the gate." he said, pausing a moment to flick his hand backwards to one of the riders next to him.

"We didn't expect to encounter you and your men..if would be best if we ride north to the gate and prepare for battle, our Khan's army has recently engaged the so called crusader knights near Dragon Grove, and may not be make it in time to spring the trap." As Fashi spoke the man slowly pulled his camel away from the group, riding off in the direction they had came from while the other two men, still standing on the dunes, began to fall in towards Fashi.

"How many warriors do you bring?"

Baibars

"With me travels the entire tribe, ten thousand both horse and foot, along with women, elderly and children. Sixty four hundreds of mounted and thirty eight hundreds on foot. Along with twenty children of the Alik'R." Baibars gestured towards the desert striders. The Ayuubs have always taken great pride in that they could tame and ride those beasts to war, and Baibars was no different - perhaps he was even more proud of them than any other of his tribe save the mahouts themselves, being the Khan.

"We have heard that the Cyrodiils are not alone in this war. Their 'allies', as the scarce rumors tell us, seek the greatest title in the crumbling empire of the heartlanders. If HoonDing will be with us, their greed will only carry them so far, not as far as our warriors. We shall ride with all haste to Vulnim Gate, even if that is not the place I would wish to join battle in..." He frowned, remembering the many legends that surrounded the Gate. If the Gods will it, that is where I shall lead my warriors, and perhaps make the Vulnim a place cherished by all of Ra Gada.

IC:

Vulnim Gate

The innkeeper was glad to see the people begin packing their things, and hopefully would get up and out of here early. The man was short, had a fu manchu, and was a bit on the chubby side.'

His purple robes danced around him with the early morning breeze.

Seeing Marietta, one of their leaders, he decided he'd offer a gift of goodwill before they depart. Approaching her carrying a tray with a jug and a few cups of Goat's Milk, he bowed and smiled.

"I hope you all enjoyed your stay...." he said in his beggary voice, "Please have some, Goat's milk is delicious, I even left in the cream for you."

These people would most likely die soon, even if they were armed to the teeth, outlanders traveling in places they knew nothing about was extremely dangerous.

Especially when trying to navigate Vulnim.

Bangkorai Pass

As soon as that volley was shot, Kizaam grinned. More arrows rained down, as the men in the front line lifted their shields. A few more screams rang out, no where near as much as the first time.

"First two ranks! Follow me!" the grizzled veteran commanded.

Speed, surprise, violence of action.

Those words are what kept him alive all these years. He was just a militia Captain, but he had seen some of the most vicious battles. His body now carried wounds nearly everywhere. From small cuts, to deep scars, and even a missing toe...courtesy of a city riot years ago.

With uncharacteristic aggression, intimidation, and jumping into the mindset of being vicious, fearless, and the owner of everything you would destroy the enemy and gain the mindset advantage. Slow is smooth, think calmly and make sure all is perfect, smooth is fast, strike quick and the enemy will not have time to recover. The element of suprise, do what they won't expect, make the wrong moves, and they'll have no defense.

The remnants of the first two ranks about 50 men ran upwards, the majority of seriously wounded left behind...only 50 were capable of fighting the fear and charging up the mountain road.

The weary bodies of men who had marched, lived uncomfortably, and fought a daunting foe moved forwards. Raspy voices and soar throats screamed seemingly needlessly, as the rest of the army continued to shot, most of it taking defensive formations.

Kizaam and his men began approaching the enemy earthworks, it'd slow them down, the excavated dirt in front of the trenches were littered with sharpened stakes, and it'd take time to navigate.

The Captain increasingly felt fear and anxiety tear at his body the closer he was, they could be booby trapped...or filled with men.

----------------------------------
The Enemy horses began riding their way across the road, the Militia marksmen who had loaded their bows could not have had a better target, a steady line of cavalry riding across the road ahead, free from their previous cover.

The militia commanders heading each detachment shouted out, "Take aim up ahead, fire freely!"

And they did, the sheer number of the enemy cavalry meant few misses, and in an extremely disadvantageous situation, they had found an advantage.

The wire snap again sounded as the Crossbows fired. Normally, to shoot on the dime, these amateurs who have only been learned with this weapon for a short time could only shoot accurate up to 45 yards. At a distance of 400 feet, these men would be impossible to pick off at the rate they moved. Their bolts would most likely hit up to a foot away, may miss completely. Not all of them were experts, but for this....they needed only a general direction. Horse or rider, none of it mattered.

Arrows rained down on the men, the enemy was shooting individually now, popping their ugly heads over their cover on those damned horses, and firing into the mass of the lot.

They only had moments to aim, but the enemy had the same benefit the Ra Gada army shared now, a big target that was hard to miss.

Arrows upon arrows rained, and Sentinel's Royal army (the majority of the center) began taking damage. Arrows were piercing through arms, men were getting injured shoulders, and howling out in pain, others took leg injuries.

And then some...well they only made gargling noises as they were felled.

The Crownsworn readjusted their aim, moving Pavises, and making lots of noise as their armored bodies did so.

"Potshot the sons of [censored]es on the left, fire after the man on your left flank has done so!" shouted Escobar Mantell, a Crownsworn Eunuch commander whose life was war.

And like that, more shots from the Crownsworn arbalests were sent forth, aimed at the circle of Dunmer riders who continually rode in a circle, each Dunmer face to be replaced with another. Which meant that the only thing the Crownsworn needed to do was aim in the same spot, that same area...and fire one after the other.

Escobar howled out to the medics scurrying to the field, attempting to move the men to the rear of the army, inside the forest.

"Send more medics up here, its raining arrows, if this keeps up for too much longer...I'm calling a retreat!

Vulnim Gate

Marietta simply stared at the purple robed fu-manchu man that came walking up to her, trying her best not to simply let all of her frustration from the night out in a single, hearty laugh at the man's expense. The combination of purple robes and a ridiculous hairstyle, as well as his naturally dark skin (I'm assuming he, like pretty much everyone else, is a Redguard) made him look like a plum that had been bruised in a few spots. But, she forced herself to look serious, as he approached, straightening herself up as much as she was able. She still didn't look like a professional warrior at all, with her hair all astray, weariness embedded into her face, and her half-demolished tent just behind her, but she was going to give an attempt, damn it.

She raised an eyebrow at being offered goat's milk, feeling the urge to laugh coming rushing up inside her again. It was the first time since she was a CHILD that she had ever been greeted in the morning with a glass of milk. Of course, it was apparently quite cool, so they apparently didn't hold the custom of giving warm milk in the mornings. Ah well, it was best to be polite at least. She gratefully extended her hand, choosing one of the goat's milk glasses that was the least filled. She wasn't particularly fond of milk, after all... "Thank you for your hospitality. Most cities around here wouldn't have even given us the opportunity to stay, or would have sent men to assassinate us in the night or something, so I thank you at least for that much. And a gift, even something so small, is welcomed after a good rest. We still have quite a trek, after all."

She forced a smile to her lips, though it felt hollow and empty to her. Mainly because it was and was merely for show, but it would serve it's purpose. She was most certainly not thrilled with having to dash through the Gate to meet up with the Legion, and she was even LESS thrilled with the reports about the Legion's command that she had heard. Ocato, coming to the war front? And Cinncinatus imprisoned? Well, this was certainly going to be a tense meeting.

Scouting Party

"We must be absolute in our faith in victory and the god's. HoonDing has manifested himself in the High King.." Fashi paused. "I have seen it so, with my own two eye's. Tall Papa has blessed us by sending the greatest warrior to our side, but even a god in mortal form cannot fight off this onslaught by himself." Fashi's voice was solemn as he bowed his head briefly in remembrance to those who have died in the deference of Sentinel and advancement of their cause.

"My men and I shall accompany you to Vulnim Gate." the words we're sharp and unmovable, even as a chill moved down his spine at the very mention and thought of the pass.

"We must make haste."

Hasturbal

The sound of hoofed feet thumped, bouncing off the mountain wall as the group of one hundred horseman thundredred acrossed the sandy beach, their war horses carrying them far and fast in a short matter of time. The beasts seemed in an almost natural state, running as if in a heard as they kicked up sand and dust, leaving a large snaking tail behind them. Each one of the desert steeds we're bred for war and endurance, for the ability to carry a man, his weapons and armor long distances without tiring.

"Woah!" came the cry, springing dryly from Hasturbal's lips as they began rounding the mountains and into the gray, rocky steps that looked up at the great mountains that watched overhead.

"Tread lightly." Hasturbal said, pulling his white haj-ab over his face, exposing only his eyes. Slowly the light horseman road forward, the sound of frail rocks cracking underfoot as the distant sounds of battle echoed through the mountains.

Bangkorai Pass

Two constant streams of arrows continued to rain down upon the rebels as Arvas dismounted and took the arrows and weapons of the dead Dunmer. They were all good soldiers, fought and died bravely. For them he felt no remorse, only respect. As he mounted his horse again he saw a small group of rebel soldiers running up the hill. He quickly strung a ribboned arrow, drew it fully and fired into the clump of men charging up hill. Soon the men were fired upon from two sides and as they neared closer and closer up hill the arrows hit their laterals more and more making it harder if at all possible to protect themselves.

The wheeling formation of the horse archers worked admirably. Because it was impossible to aim at an individual rider the natural reaction was to shoot at the formation as a whole. The problem arose in the fact that it was not a perfect circle making their appearence at the edge of the terrain random. The enemy bolts became largely ineffective striking a few of the riders while most flew over head or landed on the ground within the hollow formation. Even so they took this oppertunity inbetween crossbow reloads to break for a retreat pushing their horses north to even higher terrain.

"Your god is not with you!" Arvas yelled out in accenteded Yoku.

Baibars

"My tribe will be ready soon." Baibars nodded, before turning to Shirkuh. "Assemble everyone, we leave."

The Warlord nodded and rode away with haste. Baibars' eyes followed him for some time, before the Khan turned to Fashi again.

"The fastest route will be straight to the Alik'R. Even though the Great Desert would tire the Cyrodiils or northern pale-skins fast and slow them down, it is less of a problem for my people, who are accustomed to covering ground in the desert fast."