The situation is looking pretty hopeless, and every one of you knows it. You take Tovey by the shoulder.
"Look," you say. "We are well inside the enemy position, there are only four of us and John and I are both injured. There's no way into the castle. We're mercenaries, not heroes, and it's pretty clear to me that the Duke's lost this one. I say we loot some armour, maybe anything else we see along the way and we high tail it back to the ships. Anyone else in the company is bound to be making for them as well. Not that I'm suggesting cowardice here, but we've lost this battle. It's time to regroup and find a new client - one who can actually pay us."
Tovey studies your face for a moment, then nods. "Good call," he says. "I was on the verge of saying the same anyway."
You head back along the rooftops, looking for bodies in the street below and a way back down when a roof hatch opens and half a dozen archers burst out! You reach for the firepot but aren't able to unhook it in time - all four of you go to ground behind the lip of the roof as the arrows fly. Some instinctive part of you takes over and you draw a javelin.
"Spears ready, boys!" you cry. "On three, we rush 'em. One, two, three!"
You come up swinging, launching the javelin through the chest of the lead bowman. By the time you've reached the rest you already have an axe in your hand and are planting it in the face of another. The melee is short, brutal and effective - Mord suffers a gash along one arm where a bowman drew his knife but otherwise you are no more harmed than before.
The four of you drag the bodies down the hatch and into an upstairs bedroom. Using torn cloth from the clothes of one of the archers Tovey properly staunches and binds the wound in John's shoulder, which is full of clots and looking rather ugly. He then works at fishing out the arrowhead from your breast, giving you a strip of leather from a quiver to bite down on. You are grateful for this later, as you nearly bite off your own tongue from the pain. You pass out.
It takes about half an hour for you to wake up, dizzy with pain. The others have already made progress changing into the boiled leather cuirasses of the archers, taking on their distinctive red coloured tunics. You notice that Tovey has already bound your chest and stuffed the wound with cloth to clot it for now. Field surgery at its best, you suppose.
You pick out a cuirass that fits you from the bodies, as well as a bow and quiver and one of their daggers (average work, but good steel). You keep your spear, axes and javelins as well, because there's no sense in throwing away the weapons you're comfortable with. You even find that the archer captain had a bunch of silver coins in his purse, which you divide amongst yourselves. A more thorough search reveals a couple of rings and a locket, which you divvy up as well.
You hide out in the bedroom for the better part of an hour, gathering yourselves and preparing. John looks faint, but is able to walk, as are you. When the sounds of battle seem more distant than the immediate streets you head downstairs as a group and begin tracking back toward the river. You pass corpses in the hundreds, soldiery and civilians alike, and being mercenaries you do not scruple to help yourselves as you go. Most of the wealth you can carry comes from the civilians, or from breaking into shops and the like. You actually make off with quite a haul in coins and small items of jewellery and the like, dividing it up between you. Most of it gets stuffed into purses, bags and quivers, though split between the four of you it isn't as much as you might like.
You try to evade meetings with other bands, but not far from the breaches in the walls you cross paths with a band of pikemen marching in formation. They halt and present spears to you; their leader, a man in a ringmail shirt carrying a mace, calls out to you in a language you don't understand. He gestures angrily at your fat purses with his mace.
Just before you can make a decision on whether or not to attack, Mord shouts back in the same foreign tongue. He raises his hands peacefully, then gestures out toward the tents beyond. You have no idea what he says, but the maceman barks a few short words back (you suspect insults) and motions for the men to keep moving. You set off again and ask him what all that was about.
"We were speaking Jaegish. He wanted to know where we were going with all the loot," says Mord with a shrug and a grin. "I told him 'the commander' wanted us to bring some to his tent. I guess their commander must be a greedy man, he believed me." You can't help but laugh at that, even though the laugh pains your chest.
You sneak through the breach and, to your relief, the ships are still in the river, including the
Sow. The enemy army seem to be holding back from the river, and you can see why - the banks are littered with charred and smoking corpses and the enemy trebuchets are all either in the city or ashes. They have no way to fire back on the ships beyond archers, and the shipboard archers have the better range.
You start running across the open field toward the ships, trying to evade any enemy archers that might fire on you as you hurry for the safety of the river. You are briefly confused by the lack of attack until you hear creaking from the ships and see arcs of fire stream through the air toward you. You hit the dirt just in time to avoid the firepots smash around you, though a potsherd does skim across your back. It stings more than hurts, so you suppose it can't be that bad.
You get back to your feet and start running again, the others following suit, waving your arms and crying out to the ships that you aren't the enemy, you're Boars. Three more firepots hurtle towards you and this time you aren't as lucky. One of the pots goes straight into Tovey's chest and another smashes by your feet, a sherd burying itself in your calf. You can barely hear Tovey's screams for the pain flooding your being. Through some inhuman effort of will you dig the sherd out of your calf and try to drag yourself back to your feet. You can't, but Mord is there a moment later and helps you up.
You scream out at the top of your lungs, again and again; "BRIGGS! BRIGGS, IT'S GARNTICE!" as you hobble toward the ships. You hope against hope that he is there. It seems that the firepots have stopped coming; or perhaps they're just taking their time to reload.
It gets harder to see and think the closer you get to the river bank. Is that a rowboat coming toward you? The river seems to burn with fire. You can't tell whose moans you are hearing, yours or someone else's.
You catch a glimpse of Briggs' face as you slip into the boat. The world goes dark.
----
You awake now and again over the next few days, but the experience is blurry. When you finally regain consciousness, Mord is at your side. He actually sheds a tear when you ask him what happened. He starts by talking about your wounds.
For the one thing, they've mostly been stitched up as best the company surgeon can. They'll scar, and they'll scar badly, but they'll heal. The wound in your left breast grew pustulent for three days and the surgeon feared the sickness would spread to your heart, but he was able to draw it out with a poultice. It still smells rank and you feel horribly weak, but Mord assures you that you will recover with time.
John is making a full recovery, to your surprise. Given his weakness after the injury you had not expected him to make it, but the Altan had some hidden strength to him. It brings a smile to your face to hear of your friend's survival.
Others were not so lucky. You get flashes of Tovey in your dreams, his flesh rent and blazing with pitch. Had Briggs not made it back to the ships first, you might have all gone that way. The armour and tunics that had gotten you through the city had also marked you as a target on the approach. Your relationship with Briggs probably saved your lives, which Mord thanks you for - as well as your leadership during the brief fight on the rooftops.
About a third of the company either made it back to the ships or escaped to the hills and were able to rendezvous with the ships later at the river. Commander Brecht, Petras and one of the Lieutenants were all killed or at least went missing during the fight. Briggs and the remaining Lieutenant made the decision to offer the members of the company the chance to break their contracts and leave if they wanted, and about half accepted (including the other Lieutenant). Galen and Bors stayed on, and since neither of them wanted the job Briggs became effective Commander. He left with Mord for you to meet with him once you were able.
You rest for a few more days before you feel strong enough to attend Briggs yourself, only a small of which you spend with the surgeon, Dawlish. Dawlish is a pleasant but quiet man and makes little effort at conversation, though he is pleased by your healing. He reckons it will take you about three months to recover fully, but you might begin heavy physical work again within the month and light tasks within the week.
You meet with Briggs in the commander's quarters aboard the
Sow. He offers you a seat and a goblet of wine, which you take. Briggs remains standing and talks while you drink.
"The company is now down to about fifty members if you don't count the sailors, few of whom are veterans of the old guard. Mord and John both spoke highly of your actions during the ill-fated expedition, and they suggested that Tovey thought well of you as well. A couple of men even saw you come back from the water aboard one of the captured ships.
"You don't have much training, but that can be fixed. You have battlefield experience now, though, and you have both balls and common sense enough to flee when the battle can't be won, a failing that cost the old Commander his life. I don't plan on making that mistake, and I don't plan on having captains who think the same.
"I'm restructuring the company. We've three ships now, but a sixth the men. I'll want four captains at my side and I could use a left-hand man. We got paid a sum in advance by the Duke, so even though we've defaulted we can make payroll for another half year. Chances are we'll sell the longships too. You'll have time to train, get used to working with your men. Time to rest up and heal, but I'll want you in top shape quickly.
"You don't have to say yes. You can break your contract now and walk away with the loot you took in Dewden. Stick around and I'll give you your own band, better pay and I'll damn well expect you to stay until the end of your year's contract too. No more stupid jobs either; clean, clear-cut work where the odds are on our side. What do you say?"
What do you say? And whatever you do say, how do you plan to spend the next month now that you're no longer fighting for your life?
Age: 15
Badly Wounded, Treated
Boiled Leather Armour
Basic Iron Spear
Iron Handaxe
3 Iron Throwing Axes
3 Wood-Tipped Javelins
Average Longbow
Quiver: 12 Arrows
Steel Dagger
Firepot
Illiterate
Native Tarian Speaker
Not Jaegish Speaker
Not Altanic Speaker
Not Vvardic Speaker
Average Persuader
Novice Gambler
Novice Spearman
Novice Armour User
Novice Thrower
Novice Surgeon
Dabbling Axeman
Dabbling Shield-User
Dabbling Athlete
Dabbling Hero
Dabbling Commander
Wages: Meagre
Purse: Minor
Loot: Small (Mostly Jewellery)
Pack of Cards, Fair Dice
Debt: Serious (small basic debt, plus serious fine for evading debt collection)
Wanted for Debt Evasion.
Member of the Black Boars.
The Black Boars
Commander Briggs - Amicable
Sea Captain Bors - Seen
Galen, Quartermaster - Neutral
Dawlish, Company Surgeon - Neutral
John, your Altanic band-mate - Friend
Mord, your Jaegish band-mate - Friend
Captain Tovey, your band captain - Slain in the Battle of Dewden
Karl, your bandmate - Slain in the Battle of Dewden
Brandon, your bandmate - Slain in the Battle of Dewden
Petras, Drillmaster - Slain in the Battle of Dewden
Commander Brecht - Slain in the Battle of Dewden
Author
Topic: Courtier: A Suggestion Game (Read 11718 times)