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[filiusenox]

Raoul motions for one of the servants to tie a blindfold to the silver knight's head to cover his eyes, before speaking once more.

"If that's the case, I'm glad there's men and women like you willing to actually fight these things. Before you start talking about cowardice and that, please remember who you're talking to. Not hard to look brave if the other person runs away as a natural response. I assume that you'll still be able to see through the blindfold due to... whatever it is that your eyes are doing."

He shrugs at that, before shaking his head,"I ran, and the woodmen that came with me didn't snap out of it fast enough to do the same."

"And no, I won't. I should kee-" and then he collapses back into bed, the book falling from his hand as he passes out.

[Taricus]

Raoul grimaced as the knight slumped, unconcious. Still, he grabbed the book the knight had dropped and placed it on a nearby table before exiting the room.

The trip to Amius would be a long, mostly boring affair. However, if he was correct, Raoul would find a potential ally against Logan and that was not something he could afford to pass up. The city itself needed a solid core of troops as a garrison as well, something Raoul would need to authorize in order for it to go ahead.

Raoul travels to the Kingdom of Amius and requests a meeting with the ruler of that nation.

One PG is to be raised, along with two regiments of archers. (-4d)

[Shootandrun]

Something dark - and very dangerous - appeared in Jarod's eye. In one swift movement, he drew his sword and put the tip next to the man's belly, his expression changing not once. When he spoke, there was fury in his voice - but where the priest's had been wild anger, fire seeking to burn, his was a cold threat, steel cutting through flesh.

"You came under the King's roof, to meet with his man, and when I asked for your support, you offered a beggar's gift yet still had the arrogance to ask for a title in return? And when you realized that it was not within my power to grant you what you desired, you not only insulted me to cover for the idiocy of your question to begin with, but you insulted the King under his own roof."

He spat. Not on the ground; on the man's coat.

"You are a priest of the Third. Our law allows even a bastard to kill an archpriest, if both are of the Third, and as such ending you would be as simple as cutting you open with my sword. Some would kill you for less, but I do not think you deserve a warrior's death. The Higher Domain would be rendered lesser by even having to consider your presence. Get out of my sight, you rat, before I change my mind and spill your guts on the floor!"

Intimidate the priest into leaving [Charisma - Badass Scars]

[micelus]

"I see that your king has quite the...'information' service...Or was that just because I was obvious? Never less, I would like to meet with him as well. When you are read Ms...what shall I call you?"

Meet with their king.

[filiusenox]

Intimidate the priest into leaving [Charisma - Badass Scars]

[6]vs.[5] The man's hand twitches to his hilt as you draw, but he's too slow, and he drops his hand to one side, gritting his teeth. He glances down at the tip pressed against his coat. He stands there for a few moments, obviously thinking his next step through

[3] Then he takes a step back, away from you, turning around and heading out the door, spitting on the ground before he exits. "It wasn't an insult, it's the truth."

[6] The other priests don't say a word, and you notice the 'spokesman' lips turned up in a slight smile. "Well then, it looks like beast's claws, nor men's threats can make you back down, Brother. Is there anything else you require?"

"I see that your king has quite the...'information' service...Or was that just because I was obvious? Never less, I would like to meet with him as well. When you are read Ms...what shall I call you?"

Meet with their king.

[3] "Jaklin," is her simple response, "Jak is preferred. You'll be travelling with another, if you don't mind. The extra guards he brought will assist in guarding you."

[4]"And what do you mean that obvious?" she asks, seeming genuinely confused for a few moments. She pushes up from her bar-stool, pays your bill for you, before stepping over to the door. "If you want breakfast, you'll have to pay for it yourself. Guard-work doesn't pay much."

Raoul travels to the Kingdom of Amius and requests a meeting with the ruler of that nation.

[2] As you travel down a road that's naught more than a path of jagged stone, gravel and moss from ages long since pass, heading towards the City-State of Amius. A man appears from behind a tree, leveling a yew long-bow at you. His face and head is wrapped in cloth, and he wears raggedy clothing.

[3] "Halt! This is a robbery, noble-scum! Stand and Deliver, or meet with Death himself!" The sinew of the bow is practically humming with tension, the thick wood creaking under pressure.

[Urist_McDrowner]

At his command, Hrosskel had only a scouting force, and he wasn't an idiot. He swallowed some impetuity that rose in his throat; he wasn't old yet, and moved out. (OOC: Sorry this is so short, I was going to have a lengthier conversation with Ardas if my retreat is successful)

Attempt to regroup with Ardas

[micelus]

"Oh, nothing. Just the glances I made at you during my talk with the captain."

Meet with the escorts and head off to the capitol.

[Dwarmin]

Araline began ordering her drummers to beat a mocking cadence-and her army began to sing and bang shields at the show of apparent cowardice, raging at the wolves to charge.

Finally, Araline herself strode out past the front line, strutting it out in front of her army and drawing her sword-she grinned a bloody smile for everyone to see...and as soon as the wind shifted, she personally tossed the head of white warg they had killed earlier in the direction of the Black Warg as an affront, motioning to it in challenge-they would know the smell of their dead. It rolled down the hill jauntily, resting at the feet of the great pack.

Araline now believed the white one might have actually been one of the higher ranked females of the pack...and perhaps yonder King of Wolves had lost his own Queen.

Others followed, tossing heads, paws, or whatever smaller chunks of trophies they had found and taken. Only then did she step back behind the barricade, staying in amongst her troops.

Behind, the archers waited...Araline knew the packs cohesion relied on it's leader-once he was dead, it was over...

Action: My front line army raises an unholy racket, trying to goad the wolves into charging and building up our confidence. Warg parts harvested earlier are tossed at their former comrades to enrage them.

Fortification work continues-try to complete the ditch and stake line in as much time as we are given.

Archers continue their sniping efforts at the black warg when and if he comes into range. Otherwise, hold in defense. Araline has her scouts keep a watch on the armies rear and sides for potential flankers.

[Shootandrun]

Jarod watched the priest leave warily, and he sheathed his sword only when the man was out of sight. This wasn't the last time he heard of that one. He turned towards the spokesman when he was sure the other wouldn't return.

"Well, if you find priests of the Third without a cause and with too much time on their hands, you can send them my way. I can always use more fighting men at my side - especially holy men. However, keep in my mind that the more troops I get, the more money must be spent on keeping them fed and paid... As such, expanding your support militarily will only mean I will need expended financial support, too, so it would be best if you only give what you believe you can pay for; the Inquisition does not have enough lands to maintain an ever growing army, although I would sure like it if it did. Unless there's something else you wish to discuss, Brothers, I suppose the time has come for us to part ways; I must go north as soon as possible."

--------------

In the middle of nowhere...

Keep on pressing north with all troops. A few men are not worth delaying an army, especially not deserters.

[filiusenox]

Attempt to regroup with Ardas

[3+1] vs [5]
[3]As you and your scouting party head back towards the main camp, you hear a rustling behind you, and turn swift enough to duck under a blow from a set of claws, one that would have ripped through your spinal column and sever most of your organs, near-instantly. The man standing beside you isn't so lucky, the claws ripping through him like sword through tissue paper.

Three ghouls slip back away out of sword range as you scramble to your feet.

[4+1] vs [4]
You lunge forward, blocking a scything claw and returning the favor with an underhanded swing that impacts the creature's flesh and smashes into its jaw bone. However, the beast, even though it's face is horribly smashed, slips back, lunging towards you once more like a wild animal.

[4+1] vs [4]
You hack into the creature's shoulder blade, driving your mace down hard into the rotten, surprisingly tough flesh. It hisses fetid air into your face, before you dodge away from a heavy blow.

[3+1] vs [4]
The creature you're fighting with dodges the next blow, swinging it's claws clumsily at your face.

[5+1] vs [2]
You block the next slash, cracking another's skull with your mace before rounding back on the beast in front of you. One of the scouts circle it, slamming his spear into it's hip and twisting it cruelly, before dodging out of the way once more.

[6+1] vs [4]
The other falls as you drive your mace deep into the lead Ghoul's skull, the creature collapsing down to the ground, twitching feebly before the flanking scout hops on its head a few times.

[4] You make it back to the camp without any other incident, a scout dragging the mutilated remains of his comrade over his shoulder.

"Oh, nothing. Just the glances I made at you during my talk with the captain."

Meet with the escorts and head off to the capitol.

[2+1] The woman turns to watch you for a few long moments, before shrugging her shoulders and heading out, glancing over her shoulder every now and then to see if you're still following.

[1] And, when you finally meet up with the other party, who seem to be resting in a number of small tents around, what you can only call, a massive bonfire. The peasants look at the encampment with obvious distaste but keep their mouths shut. And, sitting by the bonfire, roasting a bit of what looks like squirrel, is the Amius Diplomat.

Action: My front line army raises an unholy racket, trying to goad the wolves into charging and building up our confidence. Warg parts harvested earlier are tossed at their former comrades to enrage them.

Fortification work continues-try to complete the ditch and stake line in as much time as we are given.

Archers continue their sniping efforts at the black warg when and if he comes into range. Otherwise, hold in defense. Araline has her scouts keep a watch on the armies rear and sides for potential flankers.

[6] vs [4-1]
The Black Warg strides forward, crushing the head underfoot like a brittle twig, muscles bulging as he applies pressure. However, a howl rises up from the rest, and they rush towards the hill, despite The Black Warg attempting to stop the charge by killing one of it's packmates, the rest don't seem to notice, consumed by blood hunger as they are. And, deciding not to fight the tide of rushing beasts, joins in.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Dwarmin: 1 Infantry, 2 Heavy Tactician, 1 Archer I, 1 Scout -> Defensive -> 1d9.5
Wargs: 2 Heavy Calvary -> Offensive Bonus  -> 1d6.6

[8.4] vs [3.2]
The Wargs are peppered with arrows, felling a few and killing them. The axes and blades of the heavy regiments hack and cleave flesh, drawing the beasts blood and crippling, hobbling quite a few. Horses are torn out from under officers as the creatures descend into blood lust. Men are torn to shreds and ripped apart, but beasts are felled with lucky arrow shots and swift, harsh blades.

[1] The arrows bristle from the flesh of The Black Warg, one even moving along with his eye. But, it doesn't mind, and the creature itself rips and tears its way through your men, blades sink into its flesh, but death doesn't come to the beast even when some unlucky soul rams a spear deep into its chest.

"Blah blah blah."

--------------

In the middle of nowhere...

Keep on pressing north with all troops. A few men are not worth delaying an army, especially not deserters.

[1,3,3]+1
All wish you luck, and the two priests who donated regiments to you agree to pay their salaries after a few moments of discussion between the two. Their wish of luck and the Spokesman's blessing are more sincere, and the spokesman, as he's leaving, clasps you on the shoulder, before heading out.

[4-1]You manage to make it to where Araline is entrenched, just in time to see the Wargs attack the hill her men are camped on. Growls, the howling of beasts, their whimpering of pain, and the sound of men and women dying and being torn to shreds hits your ears and a few, if not all, of your men go pale at the site.

[Dwarmin]

Araline stood on the highest part of the hill, watching the amazingly gory battle with a look that seemed something like boredom. There was no art to this, no finesse-it was like two idiots bludgeoning each other to death with dull hammers. She was sure she would win-they outnumbered the dogs enough for that, and her forces were carving a bloody gout in their hoary hides.

The Black Beast had yet to fall, though...and her losses were growing heavy. She watched with keen interest-here a man stood his ground, and drove his spear into a wargs throat-only to be leapt upon from behind and ravaged as a cunning canine exploited a hole in the shield wall. Here a startlingly young and pretty yellow haired woman threw down her blade and fled screaming, tumbling down the hill-where at least six of the smaller wolves swarmed away from the battle to hobble and consume her. This was not war...it was something much worse.

A quick tap on her shoulder brought her back to grim reality-her best scout, Armald, was telling her they had spotted friendly forces nearby...though, quite few of them. She couldn't be sure of who commanded them (though she had a good idea), or if they would slink into the hills, charge, or perhaps-as she might have done-wait and see what happened.

Well, it was time to put on appearances. No need to let someone else claim the glory. She laughed loudly, hefted her roundshield and marched once more into the fray-into the last fight she might ever know.

Live or die, on this day.

Action: Continue Defensive tactics-Araline takes blade and joins the battle directly, rallying her soldiers-picking up a shield and fighting the defensive line with her troops. She doesn't specifically seek out the Black Warg, but fights it if it comes to her.

Archer Squad Pro is otherwise ordered to continue their efforts to sniper the black beast, told to aim for the eyes and throat.

To the Death!

[filiusenox]

Spoiler: Maths (click to show/hide)

Not here, don't bother.

[~] The battle is won by sheer force at the end of the day, Jarod's men, along with him and Araline, butchering the last of the Wargs in a bloody maelstrom of blades, gore, and bristly fur. Many are injured or dead this day, but the last of the Warg pack have been slaughtered.

[2-1]All except for the Black Warg, which fled the battle, heavily wounded and bleeding from a number of grisly wounds, all of which seem to barely hinder the massive beast.

[9/10] Jarod, fashionably late to the battle, killed nine of the Wargs along with his closest men.
[6/10] Araline killed only three less.

[4] Jarod was uninjured during the battle, and [6] Araline sprained her ankle during the charge, nearly impaling herself on one of her comrade's swords.

[1] After the end of the battle, a massive man appears, wearing a Black Warg-Pelt like a kilt, girded with a thick leather of unknown origin inset with steel. A thick, steel sword, dripping blood from its original owner, clenched in a meaty hand. He slowly works his way through your resting forces, slicing through any in his way, taking blows and wounds but none seem to take or keep him down.

He even ignores it when his arm is sliced open brutally, the wound sealing shut with blood. "Where is that blond-haired bitch!?" he bellows, gnashing his teeth and breaking a man's face with the pommel of his sword.

Spoiler: Casualties (click to show/hide)

Dwarmin: Nothing
Shootandrun: 1 light regiment, 1hp from heavy regiment
Wargs: Entire Army(2 heavy cavalry)

[Shootandrun]

They came into battle like a storm, and the wargs fell by the dozens against their blades. Many of his men fell, too; but such was the way of things. He, was left untouched. While the peasants around him killed and died, he danced through the field, killing again and again. Any beast coming near him fell in a matter of moments. The fight was won nearly too soon - by his count he barely killed about ten - but their success was partly thanks to Araline's clever tactics.

Still, it had been a good thing that they came at the time they did. Araline had the advantage over the creatures, but only by a narrow margin, and many men had been saved this day. Of course, many men had also fallen - most of them his, partly due to the fact that the wargs had been pushed against his lines. Such was the way of things. He did not have time to reach the duchess - the man interrupted him first.

He did not know who or what the man with the black pelt was, but he did know he wanted the lady's death, and that he was absolutely not natural. Where other men would have screamed and died, he shrugged off terrible woods without even noticing, killing everywhere he went.

Naturally, Jarod went before him, and stood his ground.

"You have killed many men today. Peasants with swords, and soldiers with more heart than head. I am a Priest of the Third - if you wish to dance, dance with me."

[Dwarmin]

Araline had felt one with combat-for a moment, she was not Duchesse, not Araline-but just a drop of water in a raging storm, moving this way and that as the melee shifted. She stabbed and screamed, not thinking of anything but the next cut, her stance, the position of her shield mates. If this was the heart of battle that most brought her to life...unlike Jarods own measured, dancing combat style, Aralines own was almost frenzied-tearing and cutting, laughing wildly-using her smaller size and frame to slip around and under, over and through-striking her thin yet strong razor edged sword along a vulnerable spot, leaving slow, bleeding wounds that would result in lingering death. She killed almost half a dozen this way, less efficient...but much more dramatic. She would end the fight covered in blood.

It took a hasty fall-jumping over one of her own damn barricades-and a sprained ankle to snap her back to acute reality. By the time she pushed some bleeding hulk of a man off her, the fight was over and the blood haze was lifting.

This was why she usually she stayed behind the lines, she thought.

...

She was brewing a pot of green tea and crumpets, propping up her ankle, when-apparently-a strange beast man attacked the camp. What a day.

Araline was not sure who he was. She had just fought a Black Warg. One and the same? She had heard of rare were-creatures, but never a were-wargen...

She took a sharp silver knife from her crumpet tray, secreting it on her person.
...

Naturally-Jarod, being who he was, had marched up to defend her honor. A good distraction.

She vanished into her forces, coming up close...

Action: Sneak up behind the manbeast and stab him in back of the neck with a silver knife.

[filiusenox]

"You have killed many men today. Peasants with swords, and soldiers with more heart than head. I am a Priest of the Third - if you wish to dance, dance with me."

[3] He laughs, turning to face you and hefting the broadsword onto his shoulder, voice dark, "Puny little priest. I was ripping men's hearts out with my bare hands before your grandfather learned what part went were on women." he steps forward, watching you, massive frame throwing you into shadow. "I was swinging a sword before the Aspects even were invented."

"I am a master of war, a dealer of death. Go back to your church, little boy. This isn't your fight."

[4] vs [2] He doesn't notice Araline until the blade of the knife rips through his throat and the very tip sticks out of the outside. He reaches up, growling, something that's obviously painful to him, before abruptly turning, smashing the flat of his sword hard against Araline's side, sending her sprawling.

[6] He draws the knife out, barking out a laugh, before speaking, a bit more raspy than before, "Not gold you dumb woman. Silver only works on those whelps."

[~] Then he lunges at Araline, sword swinging down in an arc, only to be stopped before impacting a second later by Jarod's own blade.