Thanks for the kind words, speedy. A lot of it is the excellent suggestions made by the players, to be honest. I am just working with what I'm given.
A few moments pass, as you weigh your options. Glancing back amongst your troops, you catch sight of a few of the levy Halberdiers, who were wounded in the raid on the Sea Raider settlement. You turn to Fin, and have him gather up any men who were injured enough to require a break in campaigning, and to assign them as guards to the Sea Raider villagers as they return to Curbiston.
Your Captain complies, and quickly finds around a dozen of the walking wounded, mostly Halberdiers and a few Archers. You give orders directly to the men, explaining that these villagers are to be safely conducted to Curbiston, and then placed under supervised work until the cessation of the conflict. The men nod their understanding, and set about rounding up the prisoners, save Joral, whom you decide will make an important companion on this journey.
The rest of the day is spent inquiring as to the direction of the Duke. Word is that they received a grave report from the Capital while you were away, and the Duke decided to make great haste in that direction. With the foreboding estimates of the enemy's strengths, you know that the Duke's forces alone will likely be unable to prevail; you simply hope that he has the foresight to scout the enemy out before riding in to save the day.
As you are likely unable to reach the Duke in time to intervene, you sit a while in a Torchester pub and ponder the situation. After a few pints and a leg of lamb, you decide that the best way to deal with this monstrous horde is to starve it out, and that means dealing with their main settlement. You settle on an amphibious assault, daring and unexpected. From the explanations given, it is likely to be much larger than the first, but you hope it will be just as undefended.
You'll load your men onto longboats, while putting the Cavalry into a few grain Cogs that you order commandeered. Commands are given, the town bustles, and a few days pass as you get the ships into order. As you prepare, your mind wanders to the last time you ran into a bear in its lair, and you smile a nervous smile.
***
You stare out at the rocky coast, as your ship rocks idly on the dark blue expanse of the sea. You are quartered on one of the bulky Cogs, with your sturdy Destrier nickering nervously, tied from the bridle to a makeshift post on the deck. You pat the mighty beast, and glance up at the watch, before turning to check on the trail of ships behind yours. Still there...
It's an hour or so before dawn, and you really should be sleeping, but the rolling waves are not kind to your stomach. It doesn't help that you are wearing the padded jerkin that you fasten your plate to, as you could fall upon the enemy settlement at any time, since there was no indication of its location, besides "the King's lands."
You reflect on the past three days at sea. They have proven informative. Joral teaches you a few basic curse words and insults, and explains that Gergal's banner is the head of a green frocked lizard, rampant against a blue background. She tells more of her people, how they live off the sea, and grumbles about her missing husband. You ask for more details on the number of men, and she indicates that it is likely that there are at least 15,000 warriors present. This again makes you uneasy, and you hope that you do not run into the strength of this horde when you land.
A yell from the crow's nest startles you from your reverie. You run to the front of the ship, and see in the distance what appears to be well over 100 longboats beached along a gentle curve of sand that your ships are rounding into sight of. A few longboats prowl the waters ahead, torches lit in the early morning. Fishermen cast nets off of smaller craft.
Up a gentle slope lies a sturdy looking palisade, dotted with crude towers, encompassing an impressive settlement. You guess that it easily holds several thousand people, at a glance, and your heart sinks. You have a hair under 200 men at your disposal. The pilot of the boat yells for directions, and it seems thankfully that none of the foreign ships have yet turned to meet your arrival, although they certainly see you.
What now, Count Stone?