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[Elfeater]

Well, why are we not playing to our strengths? We are not good with a lance last I checked, (I may be wrong) we should use one more charge, then use our sword, a weapon we are adequate with.

[kaian-a-coel]

I am now visualizing Stone with holographic screens floating aroung his head. Thanks. XD

[Maldevious]

Spying the Duke as Alan hands you a second lance, you yell out "The Duke has taken the field!" The cry is taken up along the line, but the King continues to orient himself towards the rear of the enemy battle line. You scan about briefly, looking for men who are set apart in some way by better arms or armor in search of a leader, but you don't see any immediately surrounding you.

The vanguard has reformed, now, and you decide to defer to the King's experience and battle skill as you pull your destrier next to his mighty charger. With a yell, the King spurs his mount forward, and you are charging once again. You take a man in the shoulder with you lance as the formation crashes into the unprepared rear of a large group of enemy warriors, causing a ripple of tripping, confusion, and panic among the lines.

What follows is best described as butchery. You lay about with your sword, striking down distracted and disorganized men left and right. The King is likewise occupied, and you never fear for his life. You take a few glancing blows on your shield, but you remain unharmed, save for the growing pressure on your leg where your armor was dented in.

The enemy formation disintegrates before your charge, and the King directs the vanguard to a small hillock a few hundred feet back from the main line of battle. Grabbing your third and final lance from Alan, you cast about, searching for your men's banner. You catch sight of it, and see your stalwart block of Halberdiers crushing a loose enemy formation before them, with your Rangers and Archers pouring fire into the exposed flank created by the rout. You sense that the weight of the battle is rolling in your side's favor, with numerous holes appearing in the enemy's lines.

Out of the blue, you spot a group of enemies with an alarming level of ornamentation on their banners, including a number of skulls and bones. They are engaged with the Duke's forces, and seem entirely oblivious to the vanguard's presence. You yell out to the King, and point to them with your lance. He nods in agreement, and you are once again charging towards a group of foes.

You fit your lance in and brace, and once again feel the jarring impact as your foeman falls before you. The enemy formation reels and falls into disarray, as your horsemen begin to push towards the Duke. You suddenly feel a jarring impact on the your side, throwing you from your horse. You feel your head hit the ground, and the world goes black.

***

You awake, not sure how much time has passed. Alan stands over you, holding the reins of your horse in one hand and his sword in another. The fight seems to have moved beyond you, thankfully. As you stir, Alan leans over and pulls you up. You groggily ask how long you've been out.

"Only a minute or so, M'Lord, but you certainly had me worried." You grab the reins of your horse, and realize that you most likely won't be able to remount it in the heat of the battle. You search for the King, and see him around 100 feet distant, embroiled in a swirling melee with the Duke at his side. What will you do?

[kahn1234]

i think we need to ask Alan what the hell hit us.

Then try to get back into the battle as best and as fast as we can.

[Maldevious]

Alan grimaces when you ask him what happened. "I was engaged with one of the bastards, and you pushed ahead of where I was engaged. With your attention turned, one of them managed to sneak up on you and catch you pretty square in the side with a massive hammer."

Your ribs feel afire as you hear the tale. "Thankfully, I slew my foe and rounded on your assailant before he was able to follow up on you."

[kahn1234]

Check our armour. Hopefully it isnt too damaged.

Thank Alan from saving us from having our head smashed in by one of the enemies beserkers

[Gervassen]

Tell Allen to leave the horse, grab a shield, and follow us into the fray. Shout a war cry like "For King and Country! Feroshire! Feroshire! Feroshire for Lord Erran!" and the two of you carve a swath in the melee toward the other side of the king.

[Maldevious]

You thank Alan for saving you as you check your breastplate, which is digging painfully into your side and has actually torn open along a seam, making it difficult to breath. The dent on your leg is also pinching your thigh quite uncomfortably. There is no way that you can fix it on the field. Your options are to remove it, which seems inadvisable, or attempt to fight through the pain and discomfort. You have moments to decide your next course of action. What will it be?

[kahn1234]

keep the battle cry simple and not too bombastic/big ham-ish.

Charge in with sword and shield and fight with the king. take Alan with you.

[Gervassen]

Those are pretty standard battle cries. Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury and noted warrior of the Hundred Year's War was "A White Dragon! A White Dragon! Talbot for Merry England!"

[kahn1234]

Those are pretty standard battle cries. Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury and noted warrior of the Hundred Year's War was "A White Dragon! A White Dragon! Talbot for Merry England!"

I just think that as a relatively new lord, it may seem like we are trying too hard.

Also, if this is proper plate mail, it will be plate armour over Chain armour which is at least 1 layer thick over padded undergarments, so dropping the breastplate and the damaged thigh guard should still mean we have good protection. Maybe give the damaged plate armour pieces to Alan to take back to our tent (or where ever is safe for it).

I also wonder, Plate armour should be a bit more resistant than this. Yes, i know we have been hit by a blunt weapon which is effective against plate armour, but the axe did a suspiciously large amount of damage to the thigh guard.

[Gervassen]

I just think that as a relatively new lord, it may seem like we are trying too hard.

It's our neck if we die, let's have fun in the moment instead of calculating. At any rate, we say something and attack! But make sure Erran knows his son-in-law has come. Keep the "Feroshire for Lord Erran" part.

Yeah, okay, actually... forget the "King and country" part and just do the latter.

[kahn1234]

It's our neck if we die, let's have fun in the moment instead of calculating.

I dont think we'd die. we'd still have our helmet, gauntlets, shield, vambraces, boots and at least one thigh guard left, maybe other parts which i cant remember the name of at the moment.

Plus chain armour covering the rest..

Thats far more than our enemy has (they either wear fur armour or nothing at all).

[Gervassen]

As, kahn says, if we have chainmail underneath, take off the breastplate. You can't fight if you can't draw a good breath.

[Maldevious]

You make your decision.  You pull off your breastplate, relying on the chainmail underneath. You tell Alan to stick on your side, you are going to fight your way to the King. Crying out a mighty war cry, you crash into the melee, and are immediately buffeted back by an axman. You shrug aside a blow with your shield, and run him through, pulling your sword out. Alan hacks down a man who was rounding on your side.

You feel a stabbing pain as an ax digs into your shoulder, causing your shield arm to drop lamely. You roar out, cutting down your assailant, and breathe a sigh of relief as your arm slowly regains feeling. It must have been just a stinger, although you do feel a wet trickle of blood down your arm. You kneel to scoop up your shield, and Alan fends off another attacker.

It goes like this for an indeterminate amount of time, hacking, striking, blocking. Your armor saves you more than once, and your shield arm grows more and more tired. You don't know how many men you kill, but you soon find yourself standing next to the King. You lock eyes with him, and he nods to you briefly before laying into another foe. You see the Duke, as well, but he is several men down the line and doesn't notice you.

You fight on and on, but there seems to be an unending stream of enemies. You take several blows, but they are all turned away by your plate. Your incredible fitness is the only thing keeping you going at the moment. You fight on and on, taking out men attacking the King. You find the Duke has fought his way to you, and he claps you on the shoulder before throwing himself back into the fight.

Time blurs. You fight on, barely able to lift your sword. You lose track of the King and the Duke, the world shrinking down to the foe in front of you.

Suddenly, crude horns ring out, and the enemy begin to fall back towards the shore, where their longships have put aground. The King calls for a hold, and you oblige him, unable to fight any longer. You drop to one knee, utterly exhausted. Men around you lie on their backs, gasping for air. You know that the enemy's retreat was timely, and that you would not have lasted much longer in the fight.

You glance about for Alan, but he is not standing. You rush over to him, and find him lifeless on the ground, a gash deep in his chest crusted with blood. The battle has been won. The Duke is alive. But the price has been high.

What will you do now? You have no idea how your men fared. Alan is dead. The Duke is milling about, conversing in gasping breaths with the King.