Joslyn wields Ruby and Rose, a pair of alaricite hairpins.

Puffin checked dexterity + woodworking at difficulty 19, rolling 55 higher.

Puffin drops Triage.

Alexis wields The Dragon's Daughter, an Alaricite Greatsword.

Maeve has joined the Triage.

Ian wields Basket-hilted Rubicund Sword.

Vercyn has joined the Wall of defense.

Reese has joined the Wall of defense.

Daemon wields Dracone's Flame, a Crimson Hand and a Half Blade.

Audric wields Coinspinner, a wickedly sharp alaricite long sword.

Luca has joined the Wall of defense.

Barric has joined the Wall of defense.

Katarina has joined the Scouts and Killers.

Eilonwy has joined the Triage.

Thena has joined the Wall of defense.

Audric has joined the Wall of defense.

Joslyn has joined the Wall of defense.

Daemon has joined the Cavalry Unit.

Costas has joined the Scouts and Killers.

Eirene has joined the Triage.

Thena has left the Wall of defense.

Thena has joined the Cavalry Unit.

Esoka has joined the Cavalry Unit.

Aodhan has joined the Wall of defense.

Vercyn has left the Wall of defense.

Vercyn has joined the Cavalry Unit.

Harald has joined the Wall of defense.

Titania wields Storm Breaker, a bejeweled rubicund short sword.

Shard has joined the Archer's Position.

Shard wields a largely unremarkable rubicund longbow.

Titania has joined the Wall of defense.

Aksel has joined the Wall of defense.

Fergus has joined the Wall of defense.

Aksel wields Stone's Remorse the Axe of Stonedeep.

Costas has left the Scouts and Killers.

Costas has joined the Wall of defense.

Valencia has joined the Triage.

Aislin wields Dusk, the Day Slayer - an alaracite bastard sword.

Olivia has joined the Triage.

Aislin has joined the Scouts and Killers.

Sparte has joined the Wall of defense.

Puffin checked dexterity + woodworking at difficulty 19, rolling 56 higher.

Puffin drops On the Ships.

Anze has joined the Wall of defense.

Ian has joined the On the Ships.

Tallius has joined the Scouts and Killers.

Rymarr has joined the Cavalry Unit.

Rymarr wields
Autumn's Grace, an alaricite longsword.

Katarina has left the Scouts and Killers.

Katarina has joined the On the Ships.

Titania has left the Wall of defense.

Katarina has left the On the Ships.

Katarina has joined the Scouts and Killers.

Titania has joined the Triage.

Tallius has left the Scouts and Killers.

Tallius has joined the Archer's Position.

Alexis has joined the Wall of defense.


**********************************************************************
A small scouting group including Estaban, Artorius, Inigo, Sparte, Anze, Calista, Talen, Fiora, Dante, and Calypso make their way into the forest. Their intent is to scout some of the unscouted areas to the north and east of Farhaven. What they found was a village of unfriendly shav. What they left was a village of formerly unfriendly, now dead shav, and information of an iminent attack planned on the main defenses. All those careful plans made to catch the attention of the antagonistic shavs to the north? To shore up defenses and scout and test the waters? Those carefully laid plans worked. They return swiftly with the news, and people gear up for the battle to come.
**********************************************************************


Reese is at the head of the Grayson army while adorned in her silvery steel plate and wielding her pink sword. She spends this time trying to arrange the army into a proper defensive position and in trying to boast the moral of her troops. "For Compact and Gloria! We are going to kick some slaver ass." She says. Reese makes sure to show her troops she will right int his fight with them, near the the front infact. She does a quick scan of the area, trying to see where the other Grayson Faction warriors are.

Agnarr has joined the Archer's Position.

Sparte has left the Wall of defense.

The Triage Camp: Already as the scouts and their forces return, the place is the controlled chaos that is under Eirene's command. The wounded are quickly ushered in and bandaged, bound, and sewn shut in many cases. Already, hands are getting bloodied and the medics of Malvici and the volunteers from other houses find themselves busy. "Well, that didn't take long," the Brigadier General says, scowling at the first of her charges. "We need to prepare for the lines to be overrun as usual. Evac plan in place. Get the civvies out first," she says to her aide Carissa. She then looks at said civvies, eyebrows arched. "I say run, you fucking run, yes?"

Audric is another recent arrival, along with a contingent of Valorous Few mercenaries. "Why is it," he says, cheerfully, to one of the nearby sellswords. "We never wind up fighting for our lives in warm places? Outside of that mess with the Bringers, that is." He flashes a grin, producing a flask from somewhere and taking a long pull. "Ah, well. This should be fun, eh?"

Costas has left the Wall of defense.


**********************************************************************
The Iron Guard detached with Merek Black has provided some intelligence too - it's not as though the shavs have formed a cohesive army, at least not that they can tell from their scouting efforts. But smaller groups, twenty here, thirty there, disorganized but all swearing allegiance to the Horned God are coming. These intruders from Arx are the reason everything is poisoned, everything is not as it once was, that the Old Ways cannot be followed. And since the Compact has been so kind to give them a unified target, they're answering the challenge.
**********************************************************************


Esoka mixes with the cavalry troops preparing to take the field, her sword of diamondplate at her hip, armored in plate that prominently displays the twin herons of Riven. She's mounted upon a strong-boned roan courser with a proud tilt to his neck. "Steady, Gerallt," she says, patting him. The horse is non-responsive, save for an almost haughty lift of his nose. Esoka grits her teeth. A flash of annoyance crossing her face. Then, grudgingly and between clenched teeth, she says, "Steady, then. Sir Gerallt Dapperhoof." //That// name the creature responds to, with an almost triumphant toss of his mane and spirited huff, and trots jauntily forward. Esoka sighs, and maneuvers to join her fellows.

Joslyn may have come onto the wrong end of a giant's fist the last time she went out, but she's back in the plate (try as she might, the repairs were good, but the ghost of a dent is plainly visible across her chest. Lady Joslyn Stonewood raises up her dangerously sharpned alaircite hairpins and she grins over towards Reese. "I can hardly wait," Joslyn says. Her eyes moving across the wall of soldiers, strangers and friends alike, beneath the visor, an enthusiastic grin still dots her face. Some things never change. "All right! Lets take down the bastards! I have a few scores to settle."

Aodhan is with a bulk of the Crovane army on the walls, sword in hand, though sheathed. At the back of his mind he thinks of his loved ones and those he must defend. This may be his last fight...but he'll give Legion and his goons hell. "Spirits guide our blades." he mumbles, looking to his men. "Men! Recall this devil from the legend of our homes. Recall all he had done. Now, let's make him pay for every atrocity." his men cheer at that.

    Merek had sent his scouts out during the mission, and it seems it came back with good news. So when he comes back he of course states 'The Shav'Arvani are coming!' So dramatic in fashion. All the same when he arrives at the defenses, he moves with the remaining Guards he brought with him, until all eighty have been assembled, "We need to change our plans since the enemy seems to have been scouting us, let's make sure we give them a fight." He then motions to a Guardsman, "Herald to them the news we've found, make sure it finds its ways up the ranks!"

Maeve is over in the triage areas, running around to help with this, that, and whatever else. Fresh bandages? Check. They are rolled and stacked neat. Freshly created medicines? Done. She has even brought some poison antidotes for some of the poisons she had encountered out while looking for various shav tribes. Her gaze turns to look at Eirene, listening to what she has to say. A single nod is given.

There are more Inquisitors all congregating in a single place then those who are not fans of the organization would like to see. And they aren't even busting down Lower Borough doors are hauling people off to a dank cell! Truly they are reformed. The High Inquisitor stands at the head of a formation red and black clad inquisitors. Their number is just enough that they are noticably set off from the rest that have congregated under the banners of various houses, mercenaries, groups and the like.

Aiden's managed to find himself with the archer line, as going back empty handed wasn't necessarily an option when he was still able bodied enough to help out. He's wearing the winter gear necessary to have secured him against the elements when going up north and as he winds through the lines of archers, he does come across Tikva with some relief to see a familiar face. "I'm glad to see you," his eyes searching the hundreds of milling bodies, rubbing his hands together, "Is Ainsley out there? I can imagine Silas is out there somewhere..." The Grayson Prince looks toward his brother's wife, with a tight expression.

It is a bittersweet return to the childhood home, but Redrain's Voice comes in the trappings of her first calling of scout. The Shaman's headdress is donned out of sheer stubbornness, or some old superstition. Either one is likely. With the three red woads, diagonal across her face and indicative of the family name she claims, Freja heads out with the scouts - but only after Anze and Fergus are both made to suffer a big hug of farewell and a kiss on the cheek. Little sisters are the WORST.

Barric stands at Reese's side, standing ready and there to be her right hand and guard, and to have her back if need be. He nods emphatically to her words, "For the Compact and Skald!" He adds, having taken a liking to this particular god, and rather thinking it appropriate to invoke him in this battle.

Agnarr has left the Archer's Position.

Agnarr has joined the Wall of defense.

Aksel stands with random red-shirt nightgold soldiers, eyes focused on each of them as he speaks quietly to them. Once done the Sword of Stonedeep moves quickly towards Fergus, "We're ready, Warchief," is a simple statment but once done quickly pads where his assigned location is.

Alexis moves, if not quietly, then at least with some care. Her chain clinking as she steps around, her alaricite greatsword resting against her shoulder. She tosses a salute from her place towards the cavalry, trying to seek out Esoka to offer her a smile. Personally, though, she's mingling a little, moving towards Joslyn. "I'll try to keep you safe, my lady," She proffers, to the newly-ennobled Stonewood. "And don't try telling me not to, please."

Vercyn sits astride a black warhorse, clad in his armor. He holds the reins in his gauntleted hands as the beast snorts and tosses it's head, the barding jingling from the movement. The Old Duke sits at the head of the calvary, his gray eyes squinting slightly as he takes in the defensive works and the field of battle. A group of riders stand nearby, ready to relay any orders that he might have to give, while banners for Redrain and Halfshav flap nearby him.

Speaking of recently arrived Valorous Few mercenaries, Shard is another, though she's up with the archers, doing last minute checks of her equipment--which in this case, means going over her arrows, one by one by one. There's a tension about here that's unmistakable, but it's low key, well controlled. Occasionally she glances out toward the land beyond the defensive wall, but not often. The weather doesn't seem to bother her at all; she barely seems bundled against it, beyond the fur lined leather cuirass and cloak she's wearing.

Tikva is checking over her arrows, doing a more or less last minute count as she hums to herself half under her breath. Some of the huzzahing makes her mouth pull in a little smile, but for whatever reason, she does not appear to be trying to rally the archers on /these/ walls with a rousing song. "No. Ainsley is at Bastion," she says, thumbing the fletching with a slight crinkle to her nose. "There's nowhere safe and sound in this world, but Gloria's Paladin will have to fight for freedom another day."

Thena sits quietly atop a dark warhorse with a frosting of white hairs in his coat; the beast seems like a reliable sort for someone not particularly used to warhorsing. She's in dark blue leather armor, with a kraken helm dangling from the pommel of her saddle. Her dark gaze sweeps over the unit of Knights of Solace, checking and double-checking that everyone is ready for what's to come.

Luca the Lazy (as officially recognized by the king) is preparing in the best possible way for a Luca to be preparing...namely he's found a spot on the fore defenses to sack out for a nap! Sure, he's all kitted out for war, dark fur cloak overlay gleaming layers of blue and purple dire snake scales of exotic armor, rubicund helm strapped to one hip, alaericite and steel sabres on the opposite, another blade on back, and probably a few more hidden away. So prepared he may be, but apparently he's not terribly fussed with what's coming. Maybe he's been to enough of these battlefields now to know how important it is to get one's rest. There's perhaps a bit of stirring at Reese's rousing call to her troops, but eyes don't open and the Champion doesn't get up yet to face the coming fight. "F'r c'mpact!" He mutters as a man might mutter something escaping from a dream. Much inspiring!

Valencia quietly heaves another box of supplies on top of the others and then turns to offer a sweet smile to Maeve, Titania, Olivia and Eilonwy as she dusts off her hands. "I think this is it," she nods brightly to the ladies in Triage, pausing to glance over to Eirene to give a solemn nod to indicate orders are received. She looks towards the wall and the soldiers moving back and forth preparing for the battle and takes a deep breath as she notes faces familiar. "What else can I do to help>" she asks, seeming ready to do what is bid of her.

Prepared for attack or not, it's always best to have scouts on patrol around the camp -- and so it is that Aislin's following along with Freja. She may not be as naturally suited to the snows as her Northern friend, but the half-Nightgold adventurer is familiar enough with the chill that it doesn't bother her all that much. Still, she lets the Scout of the Snows take the lead, asking only, "So then, you ready?"

Daemon had trotted alongside the rest of his unit, the crimson blade close at hand and his helm managing to obscure whatever visage his face held. Though from the man's body language, how rigidly straight he'd become since arriving, it was clear as day how deadly serious he had become. The reins of his steed were clutched tight between armored digits, the other wrapped firm around the pommel of his blade. It's a slow patrol he makes, one end of the unit to the other. The sigil of gild displayed proudly on his chest as a brother-in-arms to those Knights of Solace that had gathered there today. There is a firm nod to his commander.

Tallius has left the Archer's Position.

At the Triage Camp, Eilonwy is among the civilian medics. She looks at Eirene and nods, making sure supplies are as organized and quick to grab as possible. "I love to run on command my Lady." She responds and goes back to setting things up, keeping the flow of bandages, needles and thread coming for now.

Calaudrin hunkers into his position in the archery line, not seeming entirely talkative today. He's instead, checking his bow over and making sure anything else he might need is well within hand. His attention flits between Aiden and Tikva a bit aimlessly before refocusing on his equipment again.

Reese looks over to her cousin, nodding in agreement with his words. She then has a somber smile for Joslyn. She studies Luca a moment later. "Oh, good you are in your armor, Nimble." She says to her husband.

Anze can suffer through a hug, even from the worst little sister in the world. He takes his place on the walls so he can be ready for the eventual onslaught of enemies.

Aislin checked perception + survival at difficulty 15, rolling 57 higher.

Fergus is walking down line of rank and file soldiers, checking their gear, spying ones who're too tired to stand at the front, or need someone on their armor fixed. Generally just being the Warchief that he's expected to be. Beyond the few words he spares to the occasional soldier that asks him, he's for the most part quiet. Not really a whole lot to say right now. Most times, silence says a lot more than bravado. So, the Sword waits.

Freja checked perception + survival at difficulty 15, rolling 13 higher.

Standing in line with the main line of battle and serving as heavy foot, Agnarr sips on a small bottle on whiskey to psyche himself up for the fights to come. His armor has been well-polished for the equation, his padding layers heavy, his manner subtly nervous, but not enough that he cannot enjoy a possible last meal of some sausage.

Katarina has rolled a critical success!
Katarina checked perception + survival at difficulty 15, rolling 48 higher.

Audric's good cheer only seems to grow as he recognizes some familiar faces - and, really, there's not a chance he's -not- going to tease someone before a fight, so he ambles towards Tikva. "Try not to get yourself all shot up this time, eh, Princess?" he offers in passing, heading for the wall. "Who knows if we'll be around to drag you back to the medics this time!"

Olivia stands ready among the triage tents. Well, ready is perhaps a slight stretch. She is visibly a nervous wreck, to be perfectly honest about it, constantly wringing her hands and re-checking various medical supplies for what by now must be close to the hundreth time. It's plainly clear she's not experienced in this sort of thing, but she puts on as brave a face as she is capable of. 4/10? When their leader comes storming through, she freezes up and stands ready, not exactly at military attention so much as just... frozen. "Is th-there any further preparation to be made, my lady?"

Reese heads over to Luca and tries gently kicks him. "Wake up, Nimble! Incoming!"

At the Archer camp, Aiden nods to Tikva, "Well... I'm glad he's not out there." He nods toward the calvary groups and the infantry, looking aside to Calaudrin and sending him a brief nod before he too starts to go through the process of checking his bow string and setting some arrows aligned by his foot. "Are you going to be leading us in song again?" He turns to Tikva, then looks high in the sky, then back, looking out as the calls are coming along.

Thena dips her head a little to Daemon, fingers tightening on her horse's reins until he lets out a disgruntled snort and she eases up. "Are you all healed up, Sir Daemon?" she asks the man when he's close enough to speak to.

    Merek takes a moment to rally the Iron Guard which is not sending news to folk, and he takes his time to hold up his black blade, with the hilt like flowing molten orange-gold, while he points it forwards, "Men blessed of the Iron Order, passed down throughout an era, rise up to the challenge which comes. We face off against the enemy, and we will win. Remember the reasons we fight... For the Compact, for the people, let iron blood tell only one story. That we do our duties to the King and Crown! Gods bless your blades men!" he shouts.

Tikva flashes a crooked grin in Calaudrin's direction. "Want me to? I don't have a rhyme prepared for Horny's cronies, but..." She pauses a moment, and then fills her lungs to carol in a bright voice: "I plan to avoid getting fallen on by any giants at least, Audric. Steer clear of the unicorns! I hear they can be nasty!"

Eirene eyes the women and shakes her head. "I think we're as ready as we can fucking get, short of looking into a crystal-fucking-scrying-ball. If those are real too." She shrugs casually and turns to look at the lines of battle before looking back. Her eyes are hard, her face lined more than usual. She pulls the scarlet veil down from around her lips and nose so she can better speak. "Experts take the reds and yellows. If you have a modicum of training, take the greens. If you've no skill, take the ribbons and tie them on when someone diagnosis a patient. Yellows we have to prioritize; they stand a chance. Greens can wait. Red's... well... we'll do what we can for them." She motions to a basket of colored ribbons.

Rymarr rests atop his destrier, Dauntless, with a tight grip on the reins. He looks ahead with a cold, unblinking stare and a grimace worn plainly. A hand reaches out to collect his helm which he dips his head just enough to permit him to don the rubicund armor. An alaricite wrapped fist tightens down on the hilt of the blade which rests at his side, prepared to draw it to readiness at any moment. He shakes out his shoulders before he glances toward Esoka. His helm dips once in silent acknowledgement of her, before the narrow visor turns away again to regard the scenery ahead. Or lack thereof.

All alone back with the Grim Fleet, Ian organizes the skeleton crew Duke Grimhall left under his command. "Olaf, Ragnar. Up into the rigging you go. Keep an eye on the horizon." That even serenity that's always a feature of his voice is unchanged, even though he's got to be remembering what happened the last time he was in command of a ship. "Erik, you brought your axe? Good. Stand by the anchor line and be prepared to cut it on my orders. Stay sharp, all of you. If Duke Grimhall needs us, he's going to need us to work fast." He himself takes a place of his own in the rigging; maybe from here he'll be able to get some sense of how the battle is going.

The scouts are first, small, stealthy units who practically melt into the trees under Aislin, Freja, and Katarina's direction. They fan out and look for signs of incoming and find them - Freja finds the group coming head on toward them, and counts nearly double the forces massed at Farhaven. They're stepping together toward Farhaven, looking determined. Aislin and her group finds a flanking unit coming up from the left, meant to engage behind the wall and rush the archers directly. And Katarina finds a third unit, a stealthy unit moving silently until they pause, holding position and waiting - for further orders? For an opening, most likely.

Last minute inspection finished, Fergus seems satisfied. Or as satisfied as he can be. Can only prep so much. Eventually, he falls in next to Anze. "Brother." he grunts in his usual guff greeting.

Shard selects five arrows from all of those she's checked, and these she sticks within each reach. The rest she returns to her quiver. A line of further tension goes through her jaw as she glances up again, out over the wall, expression distant. Then she tightens her bowstring. There's a brief glance toward Aksel, and nothing further.

Esoka catches Alexis smile, returning it with a fierce, flashing grin that shines beneath her beaked helm. She glances over her shoulders at the line of archers, trying to pick out Calaudrin and Tikva. Then, eyes back forward. She joins the collection of troops the vassals of Deepwood have fielded. It puts her near Rymarr, a gauntleted hand raising to him in kind. Chin is dipped to Thena and Daemon, to, when she spots them not far down the line.

Valencia moves to stand beside Olive, giving her a little bump with her hip. "Breath, right?" she asks the nervous woman trying to give her another focus other than her own trepidation. "It is Lady Olivia, yes? I ma glad you are here, lady," she nods looking back out to the troops, "We shall be alright."

Maeve turns her gaze towards that basket of ribbons and she cannot help but to suck in her lower lip. She nods in understanding to the orders.

Aiden smiles to Tikva, "You did well last time to bolster the spirits of the men fighting alongside the archer lines. It couldn't hurt!" Aiden was watching the sky then shook his head for some reason.

Agnarr wields a monstrous sword of war with a long banded grip.

Freja's small band of scouts returns to report, "Group coming head on, forces nearly double amassed here." is the message sent up the lines to the commanders before she goes back to sneaky scouting, slipping back through the ranks and lines of soldiers to the fringe where she will be most useful along with the other scouts.

Olivia glances at the ribbon-basket and nods at the instructions that accompany it, dipping her head toward Eirene. "I... shall handle the greens then I think?" she offers, with the middling confidence that would logically accompany such a self-assessment. "Unless we become overwhelmed with higher-priority patients, I suppose." When Valencia approaches and bumps up against her, she does indeed give a little jump, but then turns back and smiles shakily. "Y-yes, of course. That's right," she also confirms of her identity, and glances out toward the more distant treeline. "I hope my sister is alright."

"Hsst," Aislin gestures one of her scouts over. "Go. Run back to camp and warn them." Meanwhile, she and the others move to continue watching the flanking group -- sneaking keeping an eye on them to make certain they don't deviate from the expected path. And perhaps once the camp engages them, they'll be able to flank the flankers.

Merek has left the Wall of defense.

Merek has joined the Wall of defense.

Calaudrin gives a wave of his hand all around to people who are looking at him or smiling. Yes, yes. He's here. He even manages the faintish hint of a grin before he seems satisifed with the state of his bow. It's not going to get any better or worse by him poking at it. When the scouts return in, he listens intently to the news that's carried through camp. "Looks like we have some heading straight for us. Hope they like getting full of holes."

When Katarina's small retinue happens across the location of a third and final group, they are swift to push the message along to their respective chain of command - and then, they're moving in position to flank this hidden gem before they can cause trouble.

Aiden checked perception + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 19 higher.

Tikva checked perception + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 23 higher.

Shard checked perception + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 1 higher.

Calaudrin checked perception + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 13 higher.

The scouts have provided valuable information - three forces, coming in strong - the forward group will attack first of course, but both of the flanking groups are next. The archers, warned as they are, can spot the group ahead, and the glimmer of weapons from the flanking group to the left, but can't seem to pick out the group Katarina found from the right side of the defenses.

Shard slips an arrow from her quiver, leaving the five arrows she's set out for now, and notches it to her string. She doesn't draw yet, but she does get ready. Her head jerks to the side--it's the flanking group she's concerned with immediately, it seems.

Aiden points toward the left and nods, "Half the group should split..." He indicates, almost hesitant to make the call but then his chest swells with an anxious breath of air and he pivots to turn his eyes upon the flanking group set upon them. The conversation held about the enemy has his gaze flicker back to Shard and Tikva, nodding, "Then let us pray we are doing the right thing."

Calaudrin winds his prayer beads around his fingers before readying his bow. They might not be within shooting distance yet and he might not /yet/ have a good eye on them. But he's going to and they are going to feel it when that happens.

"Inquisition, fire on your left," Tikva directs the men she has with her, even as she prepares her first arrow for flight, eyes narrowed off into the biting wind. "We want a concerted volley to protect our flank, but don't overlook the main mass. Arrows ready... steady..."

Esoka checked strength + ride at difficulty 20, rolling 10 higher.

Rymarr checked strength + ride at difficulty 20, rolling 16 higher.

Thena checked strength + ride at difficulty 20, rolling 1 lower.

Daemon checked strength + ride at difficulty 20, rolling 5 higher.

Vercyn checked strength + ride at difficulty 20, rolling 32 higher.

The main group of shav are about to be in range now, running hard to close the distance from the forest to the defenses the Compact has set up to protect against them. The cavalry doesn't rush to meet them though; in a thundering and glorious moment they wheel as one and ride forward to protect the archers' flanks, protecting them from being overrun and letting them focus on whatever targets are easiest to kill. All except Thena, who loses a stirrup and falls a few paces behind the last horse as one foot fumbles to get it back.

Vercyn lifts his helm in his hand as he barks to the messengers. "Tell the Archers to focus on the front. Have the scouts keep eyes on the right flank so that they do not surprise us." He slams the helm down on his head, before drawing his sword. "They mean to harm our archers. Let us disuade them of this notion." The Hungry Wolf scrapes his spurs across his horses flanks, kicking the large beast to a gallop as he charges the left flank.

Esoka lets out a high-pitched cry as she charges her steed at the left flank. "Kin and honor! Gloria be with us!" Sir Gerallt Dapperhoof is, despite his pouncy name, a well-trained warhorse who gets right in there with his iron-shod hooves and mixes it up. Esoka's sword is out, swinging, as she's carried into the thick of it.

Silas has joined the Cavalry Unit.

"YAH!" The spurs of Daemon's boots strike true to usher his steed forward. Joining the thunderous galloping, the knight in red and grey armor charged beside the rest of the pack to join in as he can. "Gloria is with us! Steel bends, honor holds!" His cheers may have been lost within the kerfuffle of the stampede, but he nevertheless is giving his voice a motivational work-out whilst his blade swings forward. Left and then right, tasting blood for the first time that day.

Silas checked strength + ride at difficulty 20, rolling 28 higher.

Warhorses are about power and glory and magnificence, right? Unless you grew up in the Lower Boroughs, and it shows as Thena struggles to keep her seat even on the placid beast the stablemaster of the Solace has plopped her on. At least she jams her boot back into the stirrup eventually and lets the beast do the rest. "Fuck," she mumbles, like anyone could even hear it.

Rymarr takes note of the reports rolling in, along with the sights available, and continues to wait. Absently his free hand taps an alaricite wrapped finger against his knee as he quietly remarks, "We'll come around and meet that group moving on our flank once they're fully committed." The narrow gap of Rymarr's visor shifts around to the other riders to his sides and flanks. As the shav forces begin to make their move, so too does Deepwood's own. Dauntless begins to trot forward and then abruptly wheels around. He doesn't whoop or shout, but instead licks spurs across the flank of the destrier in order to urge it to greater speed. He joins in the charge of horse as the ranks of cavalry begin their advance on the encroaching shav forces. Passing by Dame Thena, Rymarr waves his alaricite blade forward as though to silently urge her forward.

Alexis checked strength + huge wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 19 higher.

Audric checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 43 higher.

Aodhan checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 18 higher.

Merek checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 1 higher.

Joslyn checked strength + small wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 12 higher.

Fergus checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 16 higher.

Harald checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 32 higher.

Luca checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 8 higher.

Alistair checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 21 higher.

Agnarr has rolled a critical success!
Agnarr checked strength + huge wpn at difficulty 15, rolling 100 higher.

Anze checked strength + huge wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 29 higher.

Reese checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 6 higher.

Silas rides with the cavalry, on his gray warhorse Damascus, appearing to be content to take orders and look heroic. His brows furrow in concern underneath his rubicund helmet, but otherwise he remains alert and fixated ahead.

Aksel checked strength + huge wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 15 higher.

Barric checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 33 higher.

As the cavalry charges to engage the poor souls who thought they would dare to come at the Compact's archers, the shavs come screaming from the forest and race to hit the shield wall. But the strength of the Compact is unity, and they stand together, these soldiers, shields up and at the ready, longer weapons a little behind to take advantage of that first confusion, the first crush and push. And the Compact stands firm, engaging along a long line of warriors. The line holds.

At the defensive line, a slow, building clatter begins to rise as haft of spear and axe and blade of sword are rapped rhythmically against shield rims. Among the Islemen, the chant of, "Grim! Grim! Grim!" meets the charging Shavs, their line unflattering.

    Merek seems to wait and watch the field, until it seems that all the units are making it to their positions. He then motions a bit, "Form a defense on the wall, shield it from the enemy riders, and be prepared with long ranged spears and halberds, those with skills as archers, move to the back." He then shifts his shield to join up with the front of his folk though a slight bit behind due his weapon not being ranged like theirs, making him more the middle point. The Iron Guard that came with him prepare. He has on his helmet that's like a fox muzzle, and he has on his cloak with the Iron Guard sigil patched above his usual Fidante sigil, looking through glassed-orange visor. He motions to four guardsmen, "I want two of you to shift on our flanks, you will launch in tandem when the lines meet to harry opponents from overwhelming the lines." Then when the lines meet the battle starts, and he launches into them with his men it would seem for the time being.

Alexis sticks close to Joslyn, standing shoulder to shoulder with the hairpin-wielding Lady, and using her greatsword to slam aside defensive measures of any shavs she can, to give an opening to her friend, as they're both diving forward between the shields of their allies

Luca doesn't cheer with the other Graysons, but he does draw free his matched blades, Viper Fang's steel gleaming almost as much as Viper Soul's alaericite. He's got that gleam to his cinnamon eyes. That look he always has seeing onrushing death. A look that's nothing of fear and all of anticipationg. This is the only time he feels alive some days. The challenge of real and bloody violence. And so it is when facing army crashes into them, he's grinning a feral grin and muscling right back, slashing at anything he can reach without diving right over top of their own shield wall.

Aodhan shouts as the army comes crashing upon them. "BRACE!" he says to steady the men of the oncoming tidal wave of enemy forces. But, they hold strong. The compact's warriors hold strongs. "Don't give them an inch! make 'em pay for every step!" he calls out, his men holding that line like they were holding the gates of hell closed.

"Valorous Few! If any of you die, your shares are going to support whatever you hate the most!" Audric calls, his voice taking on the clarion of command. He stands just behind the shield line since, well, he doesn't use a shield, but as that crush comes he lunges forward, alaricite and the darker blade lashing out at two different targets, slipping between shields and into flesh. "For coin and victory!"

Reese joins the rest on the line in standing up against the shield wall. She tries to keep watch on the Grayson army and tries to keep a good command over them. "Stand strong!" She calls out. She doesn't have the power that many of the amazing warriors on this defense line do, but she manages to hold her own and join in the struggle with some effectiveness.

For his part, Agnarr doesn't say anything. Silence is his battle cry. He draws his bellows-faced visor down, waiting for them to come within range. And then he holds with other heavy foot, shieldless, but with great sweeping blows and strikes he smashes and cleaves through flesh, fabric, metal, and wood with extreme efficiency.

Alistair and his formation of Inquisitors step forward as the impact of the Shavs against the Compact's shield wall rattles the line with the kinetic force. As the wall holds the Inquisitors and Confessors, not armed with spears and the like step between the ranks dispatching those Shavs who manage to break through, or stepping out to grab at comrades who find the line has retracted at a key moment. Alistair is clearly not training some band of mercenaries that are intended to meet the enemy on a fair field of battle and they put to use those killing skills that will be needed in the times to come.

There is a moment right before when battle begins that time slows. At least that what Aksel imagines. One moment nothing then suddenly axe is moving to slice through the oncoming army. He and the Nightgold forces move as a team well drilled. But Aksel seems to be doublely so, moving with a grace and a purpose of that a warrior born of the North.

As Barric draws forth the pair of his longswords, he stands ready with the Grayson line, at Reese's side. As the shavs come upon the line and line meets line, the Sword strikes swift, hard and true with the gleaming blade of Elvesbane, while his other sword is held defensively at bay to parry and take any opportunity that opens before him. "Let fly your blades, Griffins!" he shouts.

Joslyn laaaaughs.

Fergus does not have a battle cry, he gets to work. So like punching his time card, he slaps down the visor on his helmet, reflected in the first swing of his sword. And the Sword gets to work, meeting the arriving army of shavs at the point of the blade. Just another day on the job for the Warchief. This song and dance is old, and the steps well practiced.

Joslyn bites her lips as the shield wall approaches, raising up her hands, the alaricite tips of her hairpins visible, gripped tightly. Alexis gets a little grin. "Too true. Maybe the wrong time, but, I am so glad we are finally getting a chance to fight together," Joslyn lets out before she focuses forward, pulling down her visor just as a snarl rolls across her face. "Come and get it!" She shouts, letting out a cry as the forces crash against the sheilds, she pushes forward, alaricite points flashing.

Much like his brother ANze isn't one for battlecrys. He just wades in with the Malvici soldiers, hitting the line of shavs and setting to the awful work of war.

Katarina has left the Scouts and Killers.

The cacophonous crash rings through the battle, the sound of blades cutting across shields and armor is jarring in the forest. Not a bird cries as the forces clash, but at least there's little work for healers just yet. Still, with as many as are coming - this will change.

Eirene has prepared the triage as best she can; baskets of colored ribbons wait. Greens being the ideal color one must wear, and red... red is the color no-one wants to have wrapped around their arm. Not that they'd notice. The Malvici medic has the ladies assigned to their posts, her own soldiers of the Phoenix Brigade prepared to evac those off the battle field back to the triage, and she herself cuts an imposing figure in black leather with a sleek direwolf cloak for warmth. That gets handed off to her aide as the battle starts and she pulls her crimson veil over her nose and mouth like a surgeon's mask. The black and white braids of hair are hidden by a leather doctor's skullcap. She's ready to direct and defend; the Malvici leaving nothing to chance or fate.

Maeve stands at the ready, watching the bits of fighting that she can see from where they are. Despite the worry, despair, and anxieties that fill the air, Maeve is rather serene. She is ready near her section of the triage tent, her cots all pristine and waiting for the first waves of freshly wounded. Quietly, she hums a tune to herself as she simply observes and waits.

Faelan has joined the Wall of defense.

Faelan wields Intricately forged ancient steel cutlass.

Delicate fingers coil around ribbons of green, yellow and red, Valencia, dressed in dark leathers and fur-trimmed cloak, watches and waits silently with dark glimmering eyes. "Hold fast," she repeats quietly. With that the little vixen seems to start to go strangely cool as the battle builds, the sounds of the battlefield growing louder and closer. She waits now.

Back on the ship, Ian, atop the mast, watches the arcing of a storm of arrows that blacken the sky on the horizon. There are men like him on the masts of every ship in the fleet, each with a horn at his hip to use as a signal, and a murmur passes over all of them, because they've all seen those arrows fly, and they all know the battle has started. A piper plays on the deck, keeping the hands calm during this, the long, hard wait.

Eilonwy has scarfed down her last meal likely for many long hours and stands ready as well. She has the grim task of saving what reds she can so she makes sure she has plenty of needles and supplies. She offers her most encouraging smile to the other women, ready to face the calm before the storm in the tent.

Titania spoke with Eirene getting her orders once done she is looking out at the wall now hearing the fighting begin. her eyes narrow and she waits at the door of the medical tent she looks not nervous but egar to want to be out there but she has her orders and she follows them.

With some kind reinforcement from her fellow ladies in the triage tents, Olivia has calmed down a little. Not entirely over her battlefield jitters, she nonetheless suppresses them well enough to function as she's meant. Before they expect to receive casualties, she goes through yet one last check over the medicines and supplies, somehow more confident among these: she has, after all, prepared some of them herself. Beyond these final preparations, Lady Eirene has worked out her system of ribons for treatment, and the younger of the Ashfords at the battle stands in an area assigned for the less critically injured. Yet prior to the arrival of heavy - or any? - casualties, there is still naught but waiting. "It appears... we are doing well? Hopefully the casualties will be light."

Aislin checked dexterity + medium wpn at difficulty 10, rolling 61 higher.

Freja checked dexterity + medium wpn at difficulty 10, rolling 55 higher.

Katarina checked dexterity + small wpn at difficulty 10, rolling 50 higher.

Aislin and her team are moving to flank the group that is now engaged by the cavalry - and if there's one thing that distracts a flanking group, it's a bunch of horses with knights on them trampling through the middle of their ranks. So Aislin and her company start their grim, brutal work in relative safety, cutting through shav with ease.

On the right flank, Katarina and Freja manage a pincer maneuver with their teams - and it's bad enough for the flank to be caught sneaking toward the back of the lines - possibly the healers! - but for them to be caught and flanked at once is a little too much. They freeze and Katarina and Freja's teams get the drop on them in brutally efficient fashion.

It's dirty work, but not something she is is unaccustomed to in the slightest - some may argue that Freja even relishes it. As her and her men complete one part of the pincher maneuver, the Redrain has one of her rare smiles curling her lips. She looks three seconds away from a ripple of bright laughter, giving a sardonic salute to Katarina vanishing off again. Someone's enjoying this too much.

It's all about crucial timing and instinct with Katarina as she and her team break through the tree line and come down hard upon the unsuspecting group of shav'arvani in a well-paced pincer maneuver. A knife thrown, throats slashed, and then she is darting off into the thicket once more after trading salutes with Freja. Apparently the Redrain princess isn't the only one.

At the Triage, Eirene says, "That's right. Hold that line. Hold it tighter than your dick when you're wanking for the first time..." and we have another unique obscenity as she claps her hands for the flanking maneuvers on the distant field. "Cut those fuckers off, nice nice!"

Tikva checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 28 higher.

Calaudrin checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 22 higher.

Shard checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 32 higher.

Aiden checked dexterity + archery at difficulty 30, rolling 20 higher.

"Volley!" Tikva and her little troop release a hail of arrows as cover fire for the mounted horse on the left. Once the first flight has gone, she's already pulling for her next arrow. "Form up ... ready... aim ... keep your eyes straight, make sure you aren't hitting any of our own horses ... on one, two, three--! Volley!" Arrows punch through armor. Tikva's pretty sure one of her own went through a throat. It's bloody work, but it must be done.

Aislin foregoes a battle cry as her squad of scouts sets to work on the flank of their targets; no need to warn those still ahead, presently distracted by the cavalry. She simply sets to with grim determination, Niamh's old alaricite sword in hand.

Aiden gives the orders to a fist of archers who spread out along the front lines, "Mark your targets carefully!" His gesture is made toward the front, "Make two lines. First line prepare your arrows. Second line hold! Alternate and keep firing! Ensure your targets! Wait for my order!" Aiden settles beside them and looks down the line, "Alright! First line! Nock! Mark!!!!" He lets his voice carry, surprisingly loud enough to get down the lines. His own bow is drawn up and with the steadying breaths needed to pick a target that exceeds their own friendly lines, looking to the bannermen, "50 yards! LOOSE!"

Calaudrin watches patiently (but with some twitchiness) as the fight truly begins beyond their vantage point. As the cavalry engages with those that sought to flank them, he pulls back his arm and releases an arrow in that direction when Tikva gives the word. It only seems fair to cover the people that covered them earlier. He doesn't follow the track of his first release, simply nocks another arrow and prepares for the next one.

Aiden checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 20, rolling 9 lower.

Shard checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 20, rolling 13 higher.

Calaudrin checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 20, rolling 29 higher.

Tikva checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 20, rolling 7 lower.

Merek has left the Wall of defense.

Merek has joined the Wall of defense.

The archers do their dirty work, volleys headed in all three directions. They're solid and well-led, and they strafe the ranks of the enemy forces. Aiden's archers do so much damage that the enemy archers follow his voice and try to target him, an arrow lodging in the fleshy part of his thigh. Tikva too is so focused on killing their would-be killers that she fails to dodge the arrow that lodges in her arm as well, sailing through the air from the back ranks of the forward engagement.

Aiden takes moderate damage.

Tikva takes moderate damage.

Shard says nothing--she neither gives orders nor, truly, takes them, though as the archers line up it becomes clear she's firing along with Aiden's group, out toward the main group of attackers and over the Compact's melee line. She snaps back the first arrow she's nocked to her ear, pauses, then fires, and almost immediately has another from the five arrows she's lined up in front of her on the string. She fires again, rapid fast, and in what seems to be the same motion is nocking the third arrow from her small stockpile. One look at her face is telling--her demeanor is calm, but her eyes are fairly burning with fury.

Rymarr checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 6 higher.

Silas checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 17 higher.

Daemon has rolled a critical success!
Daemon checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 56 higher.

Thena checked dexterity + small wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 6 higher.

Silas wields Dirge, an alaricite longsword with a faint crimson sheen.

Esoka checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 23 higher.

Vercyn checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 12 higher.

Aiden staggers back from the line in which he was leading, going down from the shocking surprise of being hit, the arrow lodging through his leathers. With some effort by those nearest to him where he staggered, they catch him up and rather than withdrawing, Aiden grits his teeth and rejoins the lines, looking over to Shard with a nod, "Take over the archers Shard, if I have to retreat!" For now, his bow continues to work in tandem with the alternating lines.

Vercyn checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 26, rolling 2 higher.

Thena checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 40, rolling 7 higher.

Rymarr checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 22, rolling 5 lower.

Esoka checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 28, rolling 10 higher.

Silas has rolled a critical success!
Silas checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 28, rolling 51 higher.

Vercyn charges into the frey, lifting his sword up as he smashes into the Shav's at the head of the charging calvary. He brings his sword down, smashing the blade into the helm of one of the Foe, cleaving through the armor with a spray of blood. He pulls his sword free as he raises his arm to take the blow of another Shav on his Protected gauntlet.

The beat of hooves echoes as Daemon circles through the mass of shavs. Left and right his blade went, evidently catching its target clean across the neck of one poor soul who becomes headless but a moment later. It's hard to tell with the crimson shade of his blade, but one could probably guess he was doing well out there. The intimidating helm he wore being all the emotion his enemies were greeted with as he cleaved and chopped through the fray with each step.

In the thick of the charge Thena clings to her horse's back, one arm curling 'round his neck. With the other she strikes out at nearby targets with the wicked edge of her diamondplate dagger. She catches an unlucky combatant square in the eye socket, dropping him under the thundering hooves of her accomodating steed.

The cavalry take advantage of Aislin and her unit's distraction - they slam through the shav as they go. This flanking unit is already at half strength just in the opening few moments - it's clear superior training and organization are serving Compact forces well. Rymarr takes a hit, hard enough to have his head ringing for a brief moment, and a cut appears over his eye - he'll have to see the armorsmith later to check that out perhaps. They're losing some here and there, but the carnage they're starting to create is definitely worth it in terms of stopping the shav.

Rymarr takes moderate damage.

Silas skillfully maneuvers his horse to avoid areas where potential stray arrows may land, and nearly slashes an enemy's head clean off as he rides by. Nearly. The poor sod keeps his head, but his arm... not so much. He senses the approach of an enemy and wheels his horse around and raises his shield to absorb the entirety of the incoming blow.

There's a ringing, brutal clash of steel and hooves as Esoka and her courser battle it out with the left flanking line of shavs. One of them is cut down with a slice of her blade, falling to be trampled, which finishes the job. None of it's pretty and she's splattered as she pushes through it, but none of that blood is hers yet. Her horse wheels to avoid an incoming spear, and she just continues swinging without missing a beat. Eyes flash briefly back to Thena but, seeing the dagger-through eyeball, she grunts. Seems to have that handled.

Agnarr has left the Wall of defense.

Rymarr rides hard at the head of House Deepwood's cavalry, into the ranks of the shav forces angling for the ranks of archers. The charge of his destrier is bone jarring as it plows into the assembled ranks with the rider atop the horse sweeping his alaricite blade from one side to the other, seeking out targets of opportunity as they present themselves for his blade. A strike to his helmet sends him reeling back in his saddle, which results in his working to remain seated. Legs and thighs grip to his mount as he urges himself upright in the saddle once again. Red begins to cascade from above his eye, but on he swings as he slashes down at an upraised face as he works to guide his destrier from the press. He spits aside as the blood runs, sending a gob of red into the press.

Alistair checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 23 higher.

Merek checked dexterity + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 25 higher.

Joslyn checked dexterity + small wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 25 higher.

Barric checked dexterity + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 17 higher.

Anze checked strength + huge wpn at difficulty 15, rolling 51 higher.

Audric checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 23 higher.

Faelan checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 2 higher.

Fergus checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 50 higher.

Agnarr checked strength + huge wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 16 higher.

Harald checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 15 higher.

Aksel checked strength + huge wpn at difficulty 25, rolling 31 higher.

Luca checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 18 higher.

Aodhan checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 7 higher.

Reese checked strength + medium wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 7 higher.

events Hahaha

Alexis checked strength + huge wpn at difficulty 30, rolling 53 higher.

Barric checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 38, rolling 3 higher.

Audric checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 50, rolling 13 higher.

    Merek tries to keep his attention on the Iron Guard while he does check into other aspects of the battle, then he makes a push and cleaves through one, and next another Shav'Arvani. The black blade moves with clean maneuvers, as he steps through amongst the battlefield, assisting in holding the line. "Don't give them any ground!" he exclaims.

Alexis checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 38, rolling 23 lower.

Faelan checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 50, rolling 29 lower.

Merek checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 50, rolling 0 higher.

Reese checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 38, rolling 30 higher.

Fergus checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 32, rolling 1 higher.

Harald checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 32, rolling 17 lower.

Aksel checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 41, rolling 7 lower.

Aodhan checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 41, rolling 4 higher.

Joslyn checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 38, rolling 9 higher.

Alistair checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 48, rolling 20 lower.

Harald stands beneath the Grimhall banner placed at the front and center of the shield wall, his war axe rising and falling with methodical destruction. The Grim Duke strikes for heads and arms when they are presented, but as often as not he is smashing apart enemy shields, leaving the killing blow to the spears and blades of his fellows. Noting Faelan nearby, the old reaver invokes, "Make your ancestors jealous!"

Anze has rolled a critical success!
Anze checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 42, rolling 170 higher.

Agnarr has joined the Wall of defense.

Alexis exhales, and presses forward, using her alaricite sword both to stab with and make grand, sweeping strikes, trying to break the line and pushing herself forward. "NOT ALL DRAGONS SLUMBER!" She cries, as she drives her blade home, pushing into a press of bodies, voice high-pitched but carrying far.

Luca checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 30, rolling 37 higher.

Aodhan charges forward, slicing down a few shavs with a twirl of his blade, cutting even more down to size afterwards. "Come on lads! hold strong! stand firm!" he cuts a few more down, his shining blade glimmering even as the battle happens. "WE FEAR NO STORM!" his men shout a mighty warcry.

Joslyn finds herself pouring into the fray as the first contact had been made, battle plans laid, and no plan survives first contact with the enemy. Armed with those deadly hairpins, she pushes with a roar that sounds more like an unhinged shreik. Joslyn is weighed down perhaps a little bit by her armor, but she seems to be getting a bit used to it, eyes forward, she frowns and yells out with each strike of alaricite finding a target, cutting into the masses of shavs rather recklessly. "Get the fuck out of my forest!" she yells, barking a laugh as she fights.

Agnarr has rolled a critical success!
Agnarr checked dexterity + dodge at difficulty 37, rolling 85 higher.

In the throng of battle, Nightgold warriors work together. Blades striking out at targets and providing defense to one another. Aksel moves in time with them seemingly lost to the moment. His axe a whirl, his movements always, with a purpose of setting up his next strike or next defense. All this just moments in time strung together in the haze of war.

Audric lets out a laugh as the fight continues, swords still flickering through gaps in the shields - or, occasionally, when someone slips through the line, both blades plunging into tender flesh. "I LOVE this part!" he calls, gleeful as ever, ducking aside from a swipe. He frowns, briefly, reaches up to straighten his hat, and then points his offhand blade at the person he just dodged away from. "Hi!" aaand stab.

Reese strikes out with her silvery pink blade, managing to hit one of the enemies. She glances over her fighters, still trying to keep the Grayson's army under her command. She is once again, holding her own, but still seems to lack some of the strength of the others. She is nimble enough even in her heavy steel to avoid getting hit.

Meanwhile, the triage tent is preparing to receiving inbound. Eirene is swearing in more creative ways; that just means she has it under control. It's when the cussing stops that one should be worried.

Focused, the Sword of Bastion holds the line. Barric is born to the blade, and his pair flash, striking at the horde with a quick slash of one as the other parries, then swings in for a stab at another foe.

Luca's cutting loose now that he's left free to move a bit more, cutting a path into the enemies and moving with his well-known grace past blow after blow, trusting to his exotic armor and rubicund helm to keep him safe. And indeed, at one point the deceptively simple vipers of fabric wrapped about his wrists that he uses to deflect at least one blade, steelsilk working every bit as well as legend tells. "COME ON! Where are the green bastards?! I want a challenge!" He's roaring out amidst the blood spraying from his blades, because clearly he has no sense of when not to tempt fate.

Fergus would like to say he keeps track of his kills, but to be truthful, that was something that fell out of style years ago for him. Now it's just a lot of 'swing, stab, block, counter, swing, stab...' rinse and repeat. Not exactly mechanical, it's just a bit reapeticious. But at least he's starting to create a decent sized circle of dead bodies around him. In the end, it's another day on the job. About the only thing that might count as exciting for him is when he has to push another soldier out of the way of an axe, the weapon nearly grazing across his chest. Close, that.

Battle sets in. Cavalry charges, arrows fly, and all around soldiers kill and get killed. Anze is an emotionless part of that. Sticking at his sport near both the northern forces and the Malvici troops brought north for the battle, Anze tries to anchor the line inbetween and shout commands out for the soldiers when he can. Even so, he does well even if he isn't throwing himself into combat witht he focus only on himself, managing to not only stay out of the the way of enemy blades, but also help those around him hold the line as well.

Once more, Agnarr continues to hold the line for the rest. He has begun to tire somewhat, but still he says nothing except to cut through their foe, denting metal and slicing apart anything less. In the midst of the fray, one of the downed Harald has left behind doesn't get finished off by his Thraxian soldiery. The big northman takes the courtesy of stepping in to rectify this problem. Divisively.

Part of the line retracts, leaving Alistair out in the open for a few moments. He only has himself to blame, the man busying himself with a short battle between a duo of Shavs. With the shields no longer at his back a group of the Shavs charge at the High Inquisitior. Despite his large and imposing build, the man is not armed and armored for heavy combat as some others are, his blade parrying swinging axes and jabbing spears as he strikes down one of the wildmen and punches the other in the face. He is rewarded for his bravado with a spear that stabs down into his thigh, causing him to grit his teeth and barely manage to deflect another strike before some of his Confessors step forward to help pull their High Inquisitor back.

The crush is amazing. It's brutal here on the line, now that the first crash is over. There's an ebb and flow to battle as the line tries to hold. Sometimes they'll charge and the line flexes, and then solidifies and pushes back, with the charging dead falling behind the lines, their bodies becoming little more than platforms to get a height advantage over the enemy. It's grim, brutal business now, but they're making good work of it.

They are not without casualties though - Alistair, Faelan, and Alexis all get hit hard, but they're wearing good enough armor to keep fighting anyway. Harald, fighting hard at the line, turns his head just in time to see a blade carving down to cleave his shoulder, and Agnarr's big two-hander meeting it and throwing it off. At the other end of the line, Anze fights next to Aksel, and before the enemy can thrust at a spot Aksel left open, Anze is right there with that brutal claymore, crushing his enemy mercilessly.

Alexis takes serious damage.

Faelan takes serious damage.

Alistair takes serious damage.

Faelan stands near to Harald, fighting in the line, his weapon arm working constantly, striking at shields when possible to batter the defenses of the foe, and striking at weak points when possible as well, but he's trying to hold the line with the rest of the defenders. Normally Faelan in battle is a loud individual, singing and laughing and calling out encouragement to allies, and taunting enemies. But today he's focused, quiet, doing the work that needs doing. When Harald calls out to him Faelan turns his head in surprise, glancing over at the Duke. "And y-" He's cut off as an enemy weapon reaches out, finding a gap in his armor. He turns back to the battle at hand as his own blood flows, and pushes forwards a little bit, snarling out a challenge at the enemy soldier that wounded him. There's a lot of blood though, running down his armor and soaking into the ground at his feet. He'll have new scars if he survives the battle.

Freja has left the Scouts and Killers.

Freja has joined the Scouts and Killers.

Valencia checked charm + propaganda at difficulty 15, rolling 23 higher.

Eilonwy has a taste for this-battle healing. As people begin to get injured and remain on the battle field she packs a triage kit. "Good thing I wore trousers." She grumbles. "I hate running in skirts." And with that she's out the door, trotting out to assist the wounded so they can get back to the business of defense. She looks to Eirene with a grim smile as she picks out the bleeding and not just bloody.

Eirene's a battlefield medic. It's what she and her unit do. "Hold the triage," she says to the more genteel ladies. "We'll bring them back to you. Titania, Eilonwy, you're with me." Her sword is drawn for defense and she ventures out to look for those f'd up melee who need assistance back to the triage center and off the lines. "Phoenix! What is our battle cry," she says to her men. "Stay away from them, you bitch," they echo. "Not today!"

Valencia nods to the ladies as they take to the field to care for the injured without hesitation, calling out her support and doing what she can to inspire and support. She looks to Olivia and nods again, giving her a little pat on the back to reasure and offer a little bit of focus, "Ready, my lady? Seems we have our work cut out for us, yes?" Another breath is taken and the little Northern Fox squares her shoulders and prepares to recieve the injured, aiming to continue to keep others strong, spirits high and offer what support and comfort she can to those who have suffered injury.

As some of the healers move forward with their brave battle-medic leader... Olivia does not do that thing. Nope, nope. She is absolutely one of said genteel ladies, and is wearing a dress! Plus, the triage tents still need to be (wo)manned and final preparations made for the incoming critically wounded. For those who have no chance of being treated on the field, who need to be rushed back with all haste, she is waiting, as they start arriving, leaning on one another for support, carried over-shoulder, or even dragged along on make-shift shield-litters. The little ribbons that mark the severity of wounds are assigned and each person directed to an appropriate tent and cot. And then starts the actual work...

Maeve has been ordered to remain behind in the triage tents. Despite her typical serenity, she is getting a little antsy. Armored people with weapons go out to collect the wounded and bring them back. The first waves of people come into the tents, holding onto wounded body parts. Maeve immediately sets to work in patching holes, putting on salve, and rolling bandages around extremities!

Olivia has rolled a critical success!
Olivia checked intellect + medicine at difficulty 15, rolling 95 higher.

Maeve checked intellect + medicine at difficulty 15, rolling 36 higher.

The sounds of battle can be very faintly heard from the ships on the river, distorted by the distance into something ghostly. Ian can see that the flight of arrows is going both ways now, and has become more disorganized. He swarms down the mast, climbing with surprising ease, and stumbles only when he drops onto the deck. "Hrulf. Vorin." He finds both green recruits with that incisive gaze. "Run to the triage tent and bring back anyone they want to send with you. Wait there until you're sent back." Despite the excitement thrumming in the air, he's unhurried in the way that he speaks. "Do not enter battle, do you understand? You're there to fetch and carry for the healers." There's some grumbling about this last part, but the leggy men, chosen because they're the fastest runners Ian has access to, go.

Titania slides her sword out nodding her head moving with Eirene and Eilonwy out to the battle she is on guard watching over the two healers, her eyes are on those she knows, Harald and Faelan her nose wrinkles as she moves along with the other two ladies watching over them protecting them if need be and helping them mend and bandage the warriors.

Eilonwy takes minor damage.

Audric takes minor damage.

Rymarr takes minor damage.

Alistair takes minor damage.

Luca takes minor damage.

Aiden takes minor damage.

Daemon takes minor damage.

Joslyn takes minor damage.

Aksel takes minor damage.

Calaudrin takes minor damage.

Harald takes minor damage.

Tikva takes minor damage.

Eirene takes minor damage.

Reese takes minor damage.

Ian takes minor damage.

Aislin takes minor damage.

Olivia takes minor damage.

Alexis takes minor damage.

Thena takes minor damage.

Vercyn takes minor damage.

Titania takes minor damage.

Merek takes minor damage.

Faelan takes minor damage.

Maeve takes minor damage.

Silas takes minor damage.

Esoka takes minor damage.

Barric takes minor damage.

Valencia takes minor damage.

Fergus takes minor damage.

Anze takes minor damage.

Shard takes minor damage.

Agnarr takes minor damage.

Freja takes minor damage.

Katarina takes minor damage.

Aodhan takes minor damage.

Everything's going so well. So very well. Eirene, Eilonwy and Titania are hauling the wounded back successfully to be bandaged and stabilized. Maeve, Olivia and Valencia are keeping them stable and in good spirits, saving more than might normally be able to be saved in action like this. Ian has sent men to help, and the wounded are slowly being evacuated in the direction of the Grim Fleet. The flanking groups are getting slaughtered by a combination of deadly daggers and cavalry and archery. The enemy at the line, though it outnumbers the Compact forces two to one, is also finding it hard to make any headway. The line is holding.

And then a voice. The voice is at once beautiful and horrifying. "Well. You have my attention now." It is a voice filled with malevolence as an elf, beautiful and pale, with long brown hair and coppery eyes steps from the forest to stand and watch them. Shard fires an arrow but he moves a shav into the way. The shav falls to the ground dead, but the Horned God just laughs. "Suppose we change the playing field."

And just like that, the remaining shav army is just gone - replaced by huge swarms of wasps that immediately start to sting and swirl. Wasps are assholes, and apparently so is the Horned God. Where they sting they draw blood, and harm, something sickly and weakening.

Reese gets wrought-iron lantern with orange-tinted glass from a backpack adorned with delicate roses.

Merek has left the Wall of defense.

Merek has joined the Wall of defense.

Puffin has rolled 1 35-sided dice: 18

Reese grabs out her lantern even as she starts shouting orders. She has a wasp welt on her face, but then pretty much everyone here has such welts. "Torches, lanterns, ring of fire!" She cries and then adds. "Circle up! non-combatants in the center. Warriors protect them. Leave none behind!" She says, looking over to the healers and to Eilowny in particular. "Archers, center!" She says, trying to locate Tikva as well. "Tactical ordered retreat, away from Farhaven." She says, getting her lantern lit. She tries to locate Rymarr to see what he is doing. Her attention settles on Fergus, Harald and Alistair as if to make sure they are okay with her commands. She seems frightened, serious and ready for action. She tries to spot Thena and waves her over to her side, but with out calling her name and with hopefully not drawing too much attention.

"BEEEESSS!", Rymarr calls out as the shav disappear from view and stinging Nopes are left behind. So much stinging. He composes himself however and begins to lead the cavalry which follow back to the lines, trailing wasps as they go. Rymarr calls out over the thunderous hum of angry wasps, "He's out! Orders remain unchanged; we withdraw now and lead him away from Farhaven!", he calls out to House Grayson's troops and those of their respective vassals. "Archers! Cover the infantry withdrawal!", and so on, and so forth, he calls out his commands to ensure an orderly withdrawal in a bid to draw the Metallic Traitor away from Farhaven.

Shard checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 2 lower.

Freja checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 10 lower.

Freja slumps to the ground, unconscious.

Freja takes minor damage.

Shard has been standing like a statue on the wall, as if the wasps swarming over her and stinging her weren't even there, as if no one else were there, not Aiden, not Reese or Rymarr shouting orders, not anyone but her, and the Horned God she just shot at. She already had another arrow in hand, until she abruptly dropped it in favor of grabbing at the pouch hanging around her neck. And then she stood there. And stood there. ...And suddenly something in her, /something/ breaks. She turns, wordless, and /runs/. She darts from the wall, from her post, from the others and from the fight as fast as she can go, lips peeling back from her teeth in a sharp grimace.

"Shard!" Aiden's voice can be heard hollaring as she splits from the group. His eyes widen and he looks back around, swearing under his breath as he sticks with the archers.

From her position in the thicket, traveling from one vantage point to another, the distant sound of confusion and terror ringing through the air as bodies of the enemy are replaced with a tide of wasps snags her attention. She and her group quickly turn, only to be met with the incessant hum of beating insect wings as a shadow of them descends overhead. They stare in horror, blades clattering mutedly to the ground underfoot. "RUN!" she screams, her command echoed in the frantic shouts of a half-dozen young men turning to lead retreat up a sharp incline. Freja's fallen form is spotted in her periphery, the young princess swearing loudly between pained squeals as stingers of wasps assault what little of her exposed skin they manage to invade. She skids across the earth, struggling to grab hold and pull the Redrain to safety with the aid of another man - stung, stung, stung. More stung. Stung again.

Aislin checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 11 higher.

Aislin takes moderate damage.

Aislin stands and simply stares for a moment, her gaze strangely distant. Then the Ashford adventurer cries out as if injured, and curses vehemently in Sylv'alfar, Nox'alfar, and Eurusi. Then she just turns, sword in hand, and /books/ it towards the fortifications and the rest of the army. Whatever she saw, it's clear it isn't /good/. Though if she happens to catch up with Katarina before reaching the walls, she slows down to assist the others with Freja.

Very slowly, Tikva lowers her bow. She inhales once, twice, staring at the humming warm of wasps. Her eyes are wide with new terror. They flick towards Reese as she calls the archers to the center and, slowly, she nods. "Everyone move," she says, her voice a hush, and she has to repeat it: "Everyone move! Archers to the center, Inquisition, with me!" She inhales again, blows out her breath, and slides her arrow back into its quiver. What is an arrow going to do? But apparently believing she's not weaponless. She fills her lungs and lets out a long note, fully supported by breath and voice, even as the wasps swarm her and her men, hungry for blood. "GET BACK." The words are sung, but there are no flourishes, nothing pretty, nothing to make her song beautiful -- just raw force and volume. She raises her fist, small and white as she stares wet-eyed defiance into what has been wrought on this battlefield, and stands upon the wall, one small figure in armor so dark a blood red it is nearly black, crawling with the hideous and terrifying, and belts out, "FREEDOM. FIND YOUR NAMES. FIND YOUR LIVES. GO BACK."

He swears, "The fucking what?" Calaudrin is getting to his feet and he offers Aiden an arm. "We need to get into the center then if she's going to stay out here and we're down a person. You can explain your shit later." He tucks his cloak around him tightly and begins to move towards the center of the armor. "LETS GO." He shouts and then whoever else is around them is hopefully going to follow Tikva's orders and just go, go, go.

Aiden was hobbling with the aid of another archer helping him toward the "center" mass that they were supposed to be in, as it looks by his condition he wasn't going to be very fast if he took rear guard. "As ordered! Center and rear guard...!" And maybe there will be some system to it! There's definitely some confusion as the enemies to fight are buzzing around their faces! Aiden nods to Calaudrin, "Your painting, didn't include them--" he rasps, face swollen by the bites, "but we found what we didn't expect." And that's about all that he has time for, as he's helped to the center and tries to duck into the cowl of his hood.

Orderly retreat is seldom actually orderly, but as Tikva stands and starts to sing, the wasps recoil from around her. It's not enough to kill them, not quite - but they're leaving her alone. Her, and a few people around her too, like a little bubble. The wasps recoil - and in doing so, form a shape. It is a shape ripped from nightmares with a huge, gaping mouth that leaves Tikva to devour a rank of soldiers nearby. The retreat speeds up now, even as Alexis feels a thousand stings before the mouth moves on to devour the knight next to her.

Alexis takes serious damage.

That voice stops Esoka cold, even in the thick of battle. Beautiful and terrible as evil. She raises her sword again - likely not even sure what it can do against this thing - and then, there's a storm of shavs transformed into Abyss wasps. Her steel protects the more tender parts of her skin, but one of the foul things catches her on the wrist. Her less-encased courser is stung as well, and lets out a sharp whinny of pain and fear. It's all Esoka can do to keep her mount under control, and watch her fellows in the cavalry, as she follow's Rymarr's order to withdraw.

Thena checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 9 higher.

Fergus has left the Wall of defense.

The Horned God, on the other hand, turns his attention to Tikva. "Oh, oh my," he says, and his voice is positively dripping malice now. "Look at what you can do. That's not good at all. Perhaps, my pretty, you should spend some time with me now. I know someone would love to meet you." It somehow doesn't sound like an invitation for a dinner party.

Sword does not cut flesh, nor does it cut through anything at all as the opponents he was charging through transformed all at once into a horrible display. Ringing, all of the buzzing and ringing echo and reverberate through Daemon's armored body. Stinging inside his chest, crawling across his face beneath his helm and straining down to his fingers. It's a horrid cry he lets out as he nearly bucks from his horse. Shaken, but not quite broken yet. His eyes find the leader, Rymarr somewhere through all the haze and deafening swarm. With a more desperate yelp, he ushers his horse to move on the retreat. Hopefully not something it would need much convincing of, given the alternative...

Silas blinks hard and stares dumbfounded at the sudden onslaught of... stinging insects? He hears the command to retreat, and while his armor does provide sufficent coverage for the most part (it was full plate after all), a few wasps do manage to find skin. He curses, and promptly follows the retreat, and unhooks his cloak to beat away the wasps which may target his horse.

Thena pulls her horse to a halt when everything goes wasps, and while she might under other circumstances gawk at the being striding forth, the pain from the stings mitigates the urge. "Solace, you have your orders! Tactical retreat," she shouts as the unit starts going where directed by Rymarr. Thena herself pauses, head turning sharply as Tikva starts singing. She's stock still for a long moment, then as the wasp maw coalesces mutters, "Shit," and wheels her horse, making her way to Princess Reese's side.

Vercyn curses softly as the shav's are replaced with stinging wasps, his cold gray eyes on the foul creature ahead of him. He reins up on his horse, causing it to toss it's head and side strep, eager as it's master to charge into battle. But as Rymer retreats and the Mounted strength of House Grayson falls back with him the Duke shakes his head. "We fall back. Guard the line. Nothing passes us." He turns his horse around, overseeing the movement of his men and the battlefield around him as he swings his blade at any bug that flies to close.

Rymarr wheels his destrier around in order to check the pace of the withdrawal. As it begins to pick up, Rymarr nods once as he leans forward in his saddle, "Move! We have our orders, now follow them!", he calls out to the Grayson contingent gathered on the field. Clearly expecting those orders to be relayed throughout the command structure. Absently Rymarr swats at a cloud of wasps, with his shield, which doesn't go well really. He raises his shoulders and lowers his head, as though he were trying to bury his face in his helmet. Then he shouts out as both he and his horse are clearly stung, "Ow! Fucking shit!" He barks through the buzz of wasps, "Language!!", at himself it would seem.

Thena has left the Cavalry Unit.

Pyotr have been dismissed.

Alistair hisses out in pain as the little insects swarm him, some of them seeking the open wound on his leg though he swats them away and covers it. Alistair can barely hear anything over the cacophany of miniature flapping wings by the thousand fold. The sound of Rymarr and Reese cuts through the chaotic sound and Alistair bellows out to his Inquisitors. "Bring them the Fire of Lagoma!" he calls out as he tries to push himself through the press of bodies and the assault of insects to find his formation of Inquisitors and Confessors, each of them digging out fire supplies from well kept packs. What? You bring your organization of spies and offical thugs into the woods and you make sure they have basic survival skills. The Prodigal High Inquisitor would have it no other way. The Inquisitor soon finds Reese, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm starting to hate - *gah* - Elves." he says as he spits out some wasps that try to get in his mouth. As Tikva calls out Alistair signals for a troop of Inquisitors and Confessors to move towards her the High Inquisition stepping away from Reese to join them. The group struggles to bring torches the light as the Prodigal swats at the wasps. "How about you spend some time with me. I have a very tiny cell with your name on it. And lots of fire to burn you to a crisp." Alistair rumbles out to the Horned God hissing in slight pain as wasps swarm about, biting and stinging.

Harald rumbles under his breath, "The foe of legend stands forth," at the elf's appearance, before words are bittewn off into abrupt curses at the swarms upon swarms of wasps which beset the lines. Raising his arm in front of his face (so as to avoid inhaling a wasp, thanks) he shouts to Faelan, "See my warriors back to the ships." With a fresh breath, the Grim Duke roars to the soldiers on the disintigrating shield wall, echoing the orders of Reese and Rymarr, "All banners back!" Ordering the rank and file from the field. Then, he shouts a second time to any lingering would-be heroes, noting with a dire scowl the attentions of the elf upon Tivka. "Any without heirs are ordered back!" With that order given to those nearest him, Harald lowers his head, draws back his gory war axe, and charges through the stinging swarm at the elf with coppery eyes, an unfamiliar shout given to the Foe with his dash: "Orichalcum!"

Alistair has left the Wall of defense.

Gaius, a Thraxian Confessor have been dismissed.

Alexis cries out. "Move! Move!" Pushing people back towards Reese and her circle. "The Retreat has been called!" She offers - then the maw forms, and she grasps her sword with both haands, gritting her teeth. She stands firm, interposed, with a few other brave souls, slowly stepping backwards. Then the man next to her is gone, and Alexis screams out in pain, stubmling backwards, as her tabard and surcoat shreds, metal, cloth and leather falling into little pieces, a myriad of stings digging into her flesh, leaving her prickly, swollen, red and with tiny wounds coming together to form one large one that covers most of the left side of her body.

There's a moment after the field has turned to stinging pain that Luca continued forward, having barely noticed his cuts sheathing wasps instead of flesh. But then the stings start and even he in his battle-gasm can't ignore that. He's snarling out though, looking across the clouds of pain at the figure of the elf. His fists grip the hilts of blades, his muscles in legs and back tense. Is he going to be insane enough to try and rush across the field at the being that just turned an army (Of its own followers) into a bunch of insects? Oh there's a temptation. The gleam in cinnamon eyes seems to seek out coppery elven ones, despite the distraction of the stinging he's doing nothing to try and stop. But then his wife's voice. Reese's commands ringing out, calling for fire, calling for closing ranks. And Tikva's song calling out. Teeth grit, a snarl erupts from Luca, and his will to that charge breaks. He falls back as ordered, still not trying to fight off the wasps, but merely moving through the clouds swiftly and direclty, one blade sheathed to seek to take up a torch for that hand. He does stay to the furthest edge of the the army towards the elf though, as if still itching to rush it, a thing made only more evident at the being's talk of taking their Tiktik away! "SHE'S OURS, ASSHOLE! GO BACK TO YOUR TREES!" Yes, because impotently standing on the edge of enemies he can't fight apparently doesn't sit well with Luca, so he just has to mouth off.

Audric snaps out a little signal, his good cheer entirely gone. Instead, he starts tromping his way over towards Tikva, shooting an aside glance at Agnarr as he goes. "Few, with me! Let's go help our Inquisitorial friends," he says. "I'm pretty sure if that particular Princess goes down, we're all quite fucked. Plus, I -did- tell her to stop getting into trouble, and I mean to see she does." As he gets closer, Alistair gets a grin, though it's strained. "Hey. Let's get everyone the fuck out of here, huh?"

Anze has left the Wall of defense.

Joslyn is a hardened and trained soldier. There are some things, however, that she was simply not ready for, and that was for her foes that she'd been handily cutting down to erupt into a swarm of stinging wasps. She immediately listens to the orders to pull back, retreat is really the only option in this scenario, fires and torches if she can get them are grabbed. Upon the swarm descending upon Alexis, Joslyn shrieks in a way she's never done before, immediately she's at the other woman's side, ready to help her to leave the battlefield. "Keep moving!" she shouts. "Retreat!" she calls also, there's a hint of panic to her voice, but she'll have time to worry later, she just keeps pressing on, surrounding the non combatants, and at the moment, just being a good soldier and following her orders.

    Merek looks to the Iron Guard, "You are now to follow the commands of the armies and leave, form up as they ask and protect your fellow Guardsmen," he then looks over to Harald and then all that is happening... His friends, people he cares about, looking down at the blood on the ground from friend and foe, then he slams his blade down into where the blood pools, "My gods, hear me! Protect him that moves into battle, and protect those that he seeks!" He lets out a shout and pulls his sword up into the sky, letting out a cry, as though in that single motion he would call all the words he had to say into that. The blade so recently he has worked with, pointed upwards, then he lets it slash downwards towards the wasps surrounding him, and in the direction of the wasps around Harald, before he moves back to retreat. Whether or not he's done anything remains to be seen, but all he can give is his faith. And he's moving with his Guards.

Exhaling roughly, Agnarr grunts in response. "Captain." With Redrain's own line holding, he breaks off to join with the Few in the chaos. He is stung repeatedly in the few places where he isn't clothed, particularly parts of the neck and maybe a few here and there on his face. But it isn't enough to fully dissuade him, and he stumbles through to join Audric's advance, holding a hand over his visor and groaning every few steps. "Spirits damned ... augh. Let's get them. And the princess." Through the wasps he tries to make a path, but that's mostly futile anyhow. At least he's not alone doing so.

Faelan stands next to Harald, his eyes out on the field and the being out there. He hears Harald speak and turns his head to look at the Duke, inclining it slowly. He breathes in slowly, just watching mostly, his bloodied weapon still clutched in his hand. He's just about to respond when BEES! He acks and shakes his head, clearing some of them away before he reaches for the hood of his cloak and pulls it up over his head, trying to cover his face as best as he can. THen his voice rises, trying to be heard above the tumult. "SOLDIERS OF GRIMHALL! BACK TO YOUR SHIPS!" And he starts to see to it that the soldiers are indeed falling back, moving down the line to relay the order to any groups that don't look like they're withdrawing at a smart pace. He snags a shield to smack the blade of his weapon against to make noise and catch attention if need be. Once all the Grimhall soldiers are falling back he'll start to fall back with them as well. Until he sees a Harald charging at the Horned One. "I think not." He growls and charges after the Duke. Not to stop him, but to join him.

And just like that, there are wasps. Aksel's axe swings through them even as he is getting stung. He stands there, vacant expression on his features for a moment. With a shake of his head, he turns and gruffly orders the Nightgold forces back. "Spirits protect us," he mutters making his retreat.

Seeing that the shavs disappeared and deadly wasps were all that remained, he moved his men back when the retreat was called. "That's the retreat! move your asses! FALL BACK!" he directs them while backing up himself. He considered just rushing Legion to see if he could try to kill the bastard...but on the list of bad ideas, that ranks probably at number 1. So he lifts his sword to Legion as he backs up, eventually running with the rest. Though he sees Tikva, and something tugs at him to stay...but he shakes his head. "Tikva! pull back!" he shouts, as he gets his men out of there. He says a small prayer, but he stands to cover his men's retreat, even if he's stung like shiiiit. but he moves back with the others as more and more start to successfully (hopefully) escape.

^Aodhan claims.

Reese looks toward Tikva and then to the Slaver. She seems frightened. She tries to take a defensive position in front of her and in front of Thena as well. She looks over to Luca as he cries out and the princess seems even more fearful. Still she doesn't say anything to try and reign Luca in. Her lantern is lifted, trying to drive wasps away from herself and those close to her and in her hand she still has her blade. She continues to call for a retreat, trying to keep her warriors in line. Her attention flickers over to Alistair and the other commanders. She gives them a nod. Then Reese starts to pray to Gloria. "Gloria please be with now. Please...see our plight and give me the strength to see them to safety. Guide my hand for what needs to be done. Be with me now. Allow me to protect them, please."

Ian has just settled in again to watch from high up when he notices the battle change. It's a subtle thing; the flights of arrows thin and stop. The cries of the dying change into a... strange, pervasive droning that seems to come from everywhere at once. And then the screaming starts. Surprise, panic, pain... Some of the sailors leap overboard to take shelter under the water. For his part, Ian takes the wasps with that same calm that he directs towards everything. He wraps a cloth around the lower half of his face so that he doesn't risk inhaling wasps when he speaks, turns up and fastens the collar of his coat, and climbs back to the deck. He proves that he can raise his voice to a pretty good bellow when he wants to with a shouted order for the men to light the torches. Then he starts on individuals, calming the panicked by being calm himself and giving them very specific orders to follow. "I need wet wool. We're going to make as much smoke as we can. Orrey, go to the other ships. Tell them we hold. Tell them to use smoke. The Grim Legion doesn't give way because of a few bugs."

Eilonwy continues to pull the wounded back to the triage tent. Wasps or no wasps. For a moment, she's glad she's small as women go. She keeps her head down like any other healer might and avoids looking at the Horned God. As people start to drop from the stings, her sole focus is getting them out so the wounded can be evacuated. It's all she can do. She came prepared to help the wounded and not act the shaman. Looking up quickly she decides it's better not to draw attention to herself and gets back to helping the warriors as best as she can.

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Maeve looks up and around as several wasps enter the tent. She blinks, then there are more and more! Blankets are grabbed and she drapes them over her patients to help protect them from the swarm of insects. "Oh! Ow! Ow!" She swats at the buggers that sting at her. She stops and herbrows furrow as if she is trying to listen for something, "I hear you. I feel your distress on occasion. Help us spirits.. We fight that whih has brought you such distress." She concentrates for a moment longer even as the wasps crawl through that wild red hair and over her cheek. After the earnest prayer is offered, she turns and begins to assist in the evacuation of the patients.

"Reese! We can not fight a swarm of stinging wasps; the plan was to retreat at his engagement!" Barric calls to his cousin, but he follows orders; he moves away from the line to get a torch from behind. There'd be torches with triage, right? If only to wave fire around when they retreat.

Composed as ever, Valenica is speaking softly to a man with a bloodied face when suddenly he screams in pain and then again. A horrible sharp, pain filled shriek. Her eyes widen and suddenly she yelps as the first of the wasps enter the triage and the cries of "beeeesssss" and "run" echo off the battlefield. She looks up and without a second thought, her hood goes up and she quickly fishes in her bag for a mask, slipping it on and hissing through white clenched teeth as another on gets her. Reaching for a large piece of gause (or what ever might serve as netting that is close by) she tries to make a makeshift bee veil for herself and then putting one over the face of the writhing injured man. Grabbing an handful of sheets for the others, she rising to help the medics evacuate the trigage.

Valencia gets a filigree of steel and emerald mask from A leather bag adorned with stylized fox.

Titania checked composure at difficulty 15, rolling 16 higher.

Titania looks on as Harald and Faelan go running for the elf that showed up, "Nooo!" she calls out to them as she watches them run for the danger not away, torn between her Duke and the wounded watching her eyes wide now. Her looks around now her heart punding in her chest as the wasps buzz around her stinging her. She is num for the moment standing watching Harald run in further with Faelan close behind, she is filled with anger and panic frozen not moving for a moment but as she watches him she remembered what Harald had told her and so even in the struggle she turns to help get the wounded to safety.

Even though she was mostly covered, the wasps still find ways through Eirene's leather garments. She pulls on her gloves to help protect her hands and wraps her silk scarf a few more times around her face. "I knew some shit like this would..." But then Tikva sings and Eirene just lets a single "Well fuck, a Singer," fall. Then it gets worse, with Harald charging into the fray. "You... dimwitted limp-dicked fish-fucking idiot of a man. What are you trying to prove, that your balls haven't wrinkled up and dropped off?!" She yells over the battlefield as loudly as she can, shaking her head angrily. "You dumb three hundred year old grandmother fucker!" Or was she yelling at the Horned King now? Hard to say.

"Torches, Incense! Get the wounded into the protective line and EVAC," she calls to her men. "Throw blankets over them!" Even as they start to run her aide hands back the direwolf cloak and she slings it back on for added protection. "This is a full evac, everyone out," she bellows.

Why did it have to be... Olivia is not, as a rule, fond of animals. She tolerates insects somewhat because of their small size and typically minimal impact on humankind but swarms are quite another matter. Were it not for the patients, she would simply flee such a horrible sight as the swarming masses of insects that descend upon the tents, but as it is, she does what she can in concert with her fellow healers to evacuate those they can. Here, the little triage ribbons definitely factor in: some people are going to be left behind in this mad rush, and those with the red ribbons are the first to go. Already a bloody mess from her prior, tireless work with the wounded, it's hard to make out where the stings hit her, though eventually the red welts probably rise above the simple stains. As they retreat, her one exotic effort is in the dumping of a few materials from her ever present basket-of-useful-things into a pile and then pouring some of the contents over a pile of bandages bandages. She lights these ablaze, to make some kind of smokey cloud to cover them, keeps one strip herself, and then gets her butt in gear, ushering her patients along with her.

There is that moment in a battle, where everything grinds to a halt. Those here will remember it forever. Tikva, standing defiant, singing a song of breaking as Audric and Agnarr and the Valorous Few move to evacuate her whether or not she wants to come. Rymarr, leading the charge of the cavalry away from the battle, a thundering egress trying to draw the threat away from Farhaven. Freja unconscious, carried by Katarina and Aislin and the other scouts in a scurry for safety. Titania, shouting her denial as the healers try to help the wounded to the safety of the ships. Ian, waiting on the ships. Waiting for the Grimhall Soldiers. Reese, shouting for her people to move, to run! All while the sky is dark with millions of Legion's monsters, that swarm and coalesce and leave death and blood in their wake.

And then, in that frozen tableau, Duke Harald Grimhall stalks toward Orichalcum, Faelan at his side shouting their defiance to the sky. "Orichalcum," Harald calls, and as the beautiful elf turns at his name, Harald calls, "DEATH!" And rushes forward.

Harald Grimhall, son of Vladimir, son of Ivan, stalks through the swarm with a dark glower and a deadly resolve. Lips stirring with unheard words, whether for Eirene's shouted curses reaching his ear, or for some other dire humor, his lip twists briefly in a sneering smile as with every sinew straining its utmost for speed and strength he strikes. The blows of his axe fly for the elf, swinging hard enough to fell a mast, or chop down a tree as he seeks to cut through whatever defense the 'Horned God' thinks to raise. He presses forward, unrelenting, striking with all his might, despite all stings.

Calaudrin has left the Archer's Position.

3 Iron Guardsmen have been dismissed.

Faelan charges forward at Harald's side, his former silence abandoned. He's singing as they go, some old sailor's song reveling in the glory of battle and such things. If he's going to die he's going to die with a song on his lips and laughter. He's not trying to slay the creature. He's not capable of that and he knows it, but he can sure try to distract it. Dancing around to the side, taking swipes and stabs at it, trying to distract the Horned One from Harald if he's at all able to do so.

Harald has rolled a critical success!
Harald checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 29, rolling 85 higher.

Harald remains capable of fighting.

Faelan checked stamina, willpower + survival at difficulty 35, rolling 31 higher.

Faelan remains capable of fighting.

And with his first swing of that huge axe, the sneering Thrax catches Orichalcum's full attention indeed. The blade bites hard and deep, and the elf's head seems to split and he starts vomiting wasps from him. The wasps chasing the retreat in all directions suddenly stop, and the angry buzz intensifies as the creature who brought it forth is injured. They fly back to their maker, a horrifying nightmare swarm, hovering as they wait for the Horned God to command them. One hand flies out, quick as lightning and he tilts his head, staring at Harald like a suddenly interesting creature as the wasps spill back into him and his face begins to knit itself back together. When he speaks, more wasps fall from his lips. "Do you think you can kill me? This is only the beginning." He and the wasp swarm move as one, the wasps surrounding Faelan where he dances, coalescing around him and obscuring him for a breathless moment. And then he flings Harald across the clearing, like throwing away an old toy, the Grimhall Duke's head cracking against the tree as he falls. The wasps clear, leaving Faelen bloody and raw and horribly injured. He stares at them all dispassionately, as though daring them to come again and then he says to all in the clearing, "You have my attention now." And then the cloud of wasps surrounds him, and then they are gone.

Luca has left the Wall of defense.

Giuseppe, a kindly old man have been dismissed.

Aodhan has left the Wall of defense.

Gaius, a Thraxian Confessor leaves, following Alistair.

Harald lies where he falls, unmoving save for the uneven breaths drawn through broken ribs. The Grimhall's fine armor is a mangled ruin encasing him, as- holding to consciousness in a cruel quirk of fortitude, staring ahead, half-aware, the Grim Duke whispers an answer to the departed sorceror's question. 'You think you can kill me'? Harald recalled the elf prompting. "Not... yet. But this... is only. The beginning."

Faelan laughs as he fights, the song falling away, and then the laughter to fades as he just shouts his name to the Gods as he swings for everything he is worth at the Horned God, his blade flashing as it swings relentlessly, just trying to distract the monstrous creature in front of him and Harald. "Get it Harald! Strike it down!" And then there's a blow that cleaves the God's head inwards. Faelan lets out a huge shout of victory, but doesn't stop swinging at the creature. But then there's a swarm of wasps, poouring back into the god, and sealing up it's wound. Faelan staggers back as the swarm surrounds him, stinging and tearing. He collapses onto the ground amid the swarm, swinging his sword braodside through the swarm until it clears away, leaving him gasping for breath, and a bloody mess. His defiance doesn't end with being put on his ass though, he gathers the blood in his mouth and spits it at the god, only for it to fall on empty air. "Ha!" He flops over backwards then. "harald! You alive?" This shouted out to the duke.

Alexis has been breathless, and happy at the respite, half-hanging off Joslyn as they're withdrawing, breathlessly watching Harald and Faelan and Orichalchum. She winces, seing the duke fly. Holds her breath as the Horned God speaks - and ehxales, her entire body relaxing, as he and his swarm disappears. Then, she shoots Joslyn a grin. "See? Fucking coward ran when he got hit." She concludes, her smile widening. "We won the day here. More than that. He'll come back, and he'll be angry - but we won the day." Wincing, raising her now-bare arm, looking at the swelling stings. "This is going to -suck-."

    Merek looks over towards the action, when it seems his blade can't do much, and he places it in a sheath after the long moment during the retreat in which this all seems to transpire. As soon as things clear up and reality seems to be in full swing, and it looks like there is little left in the area, he rushes towards where they are, motioning over some Guards, "Secure the area so the medics can get them out!"

Light flares up as one by one, the ships of the Grim Fleet get their orders and light their torches. And then the smoke comes thick and fast. Ian, the cloth around his face now wet, retrieves a shield from somewhere and, feet set wide to help him keep his balance, begins to beat his sword against it in a steady rhythm. One by one, others on the ship do the same, and then voices, muffled by wet cloth and coughing, take up the chant, weakly at first, and then with force: "Grim. Grim. Grim. Grim." The sound spreads the way the screams did, before, from one ship to the next. These are men who have been trained -- some of them by Ian himself -- to lose themselves in this war chant, so that even with the wasps buzzing all around them, they hold steady. The pounding rhythm rises, loud and louder still. Dozens of voices shout their defiance loud enough to match the drone of the creatures of the Horned God. Loud enough to signal to the retreating soldiers that the Grim Fleet holds. That they will have a way out. Indeed, all who come to the ships as a means of escape are taken in, whether or not they're part of the Grim Legion. Ian makes sure the last ship stays until everyone is safely aboard. Thankfully, he doesn't have to do this through swarms of wasps and choking smoke. Not that he knows why, just now.

When it appears the godless marauding wasps have dissipated along with their master, Silas departs from his cavalry retinue to ride off in the direction where he saw the archers retreat to. He carefully navigates around their parameter, eyes scanning faces -- in search of one in particular, with clear concern. "Aiden!" He calls out, projecting his voice far so he can be heard.

As the wasps are summoned away, Aksel's helping with the retreat slows and he glances around. His green eyes scanning the battle field a grim look on his face. "Get the wounded to the medical center," he barks out at the Nightgold soldiers still standing on there two feet. As the soldiers go out to the field to find wounded, Aksel moves off to the side of the battle field. He draws in a deep breath before dropping to his knees resting his rump on his heels. He lowers his head and places his hands in the dirt. A moment passes and Aksel draws his hands into a fist collecting dirt and bringing it to his face to wipe it there. Task completed the Northern, rises and moves to help with the clean up process. Even after the battle, there is still things to be done. No time for rest.

Joslyn holds onto Alexis as they force their way back, retreating with the rest. As everything fades away, and Orichalcum disappears, she lets out a sigh of relief and a grin is shot towards Alexis, chuckling then, holding and wincing sympathetically as she smiles to Alexis. "Lean on me, I've got you," Josyln insists. "We'll get you out of that armor, and get you fixed up. That was fun until that last bit..." Joslyn muses, drawing a deep breath.

Esoka rides her very tired horse back to the wall. She'll look for Tikva, and Calaudrin, and check on a good many of her fellows, when the dust settles. And she'll seek out the medics. Because a sting from an evil wasp is probably not something you want to just walk off.

Shard is nowhere to be found in the retreat. Not among the archers. Not among the melee troops. Not among the wounded, or on the ships when people finally reach them. She's nowhere to be found at all.

When she wakes it is with a blood-curdling scream, the sound ripped from her throat until the breath goes ragged and leaves her gasping for air. Freja claws at her scalp, then presses her palms against her temples. Whatever the shaman saw, or heard, she isn't sharing. Her physical wounds aren't severe, nothing more than the wasp stings for the healers to see to. It is deep into the halls of Farhaven she vanishes when her feet work again, the actual aim and strength of the Redrain questionable. Farhaven is still her home and at least the stones and snows she knows best.

Filling her lungs again, Tikva looked towards the Horned God, to sing out once more, "GET BACK." It's all she has, what she can put into her voice. All she feels. Maybe all she is. As her would-be saviors form up around her, she grips tightly to an arrow she somehow left in her hand and wobbles a little in place, staring towards where Harald and Faelan were both cast aside. "Get back," comes out a little more muted, a little more strangled. Who knew singing at a Herald was going to be a bad idea? (I mean, she knew. She really knew.) It's a little like she's been stuck on repeat. She looks around at the men nearest her, eyes wide and bright. Audric. Alistair. What the hell kind of anchors are these. It seems to be to Audric that she says in a wondering crogglement, "Holy shit. We really have to get the hell out of here." There are tears dripping from her eyes, but maybe that's just from wasp stings, or shock, or who knows. Some stupid reason.

Vercyn reins his horse around again. His helm swivels back and forth as he surveys the area. "Fan out and defend the area so that the wounded and dead may be seen too. Send out scouts to see if any of the cowardly bastards got away. "If any Shav is left alive I want them for questioning." He pulls his helm off, resting it against his hip as he looks around from the top of his horse.

Eilonwy looks up when the wasps vanish and blows out a breath, relieved. She straightens and places a hand to her chest with a look around. She seems tentative to approach the two who charged the Horned God, tending the other gravely wounded first.

Valencia's eyes widen as she turns to see the attack unfold, struggling to hold up an injured soldier as they try to evacuate. The wasps and their master suddenly good, she turns dark eyes to the surrounding soldiers as though looking for someone. A look of relief is found and then another and another.... she smiles and takes a long breath then gets back to work helping the medics.

Stinging, bloodied, bruised. Daemon had absolutely nothing worth complaining about after watching what his comrades in arms just endured. Finally yanking the helm from his head and letting it fall to the saddlebags. He encourages his horse forward, a slow trot. "Wounded. I can help move them." He motions to the healers, dismounting from his horse and setting to the task of aiding the evacuation as well as he could.

"Here!" Aiden spots Silas and calls out among the field when it grows calmer after the abyssal wasps zing away, his eyes lighting up to see Silas still mounted up and not bent over from injury. Aiden's arm is slung over another man's in Grayson garb, helping the Prince limp his way off the field and thankfully, he hasn't got to limp so very fast any more. "I'm here...," there's an exhausted look on his face, though he was still standing for the most part, getting help to limp over toward Silas, where he puts his hand on the other's, a faint smile showing through, "We made it."

"Nobody touch the Duke," Eirene commands, her husky voice barking the order. "Move him and you might kill him," she explains, calling the evac to a halt when the sorcerer vanishes. "You stupid pig-shitter," she curses again. "See to the wounded, I'll take care of that asshole." She grabs her surgical roll from her beltpurse and runs towards the crushed Grimhall. "You... dumb bastard," she says weakly, losing her vitrol as she takes a look at him and his dire state. "You're fucking lucky. That's all I can say. Lucky."


**********************************************************************
No one believes the ridiculous tales that come back from Farhaven. At this point, they're fairly certain that the newest Northern Game is "lie to the people back in Arx and see how gullible they are." But this time, as somber-faced warriors return to recouperate and figure out what happens next, they're not telling stories. In fact, all they seem to be willing to say about it is the same thing, over and over: "This is only the beginning."
**********************************************************************


Reese watches the charge with a wide-eyed expression of fear. She winces when they go down and doesn't seem fully sure that they will live. She continues to lead the retreat, but it is slower now. Reese is counting, trying to make sure that everyone is here. "Shard...where is Shard?" She says. She then turns to Tikva. "You gave me a scare there." She admits. She tries to keep the Grayson army organized and sends out scoutsn as well.

Audric spins his swords once, before frowning briefly. "Don't think that's really an option, Princess," he says. "He's gonna be back, and we need to be more prepared next time. I've got-" He pauses, then shakes his head. "I'll talk with Redrains and see if we can come up with something -creative-." He grins, then turns to take a step or two away, wiping his blades off on a nearby corpse - he doesn't much care which side it was on. The dead don't mind. Then the Baron-Sellsword snags a few of the Few, waving them off. "Go find my fucking second. Tikva, you should probably get some rest, eh? I'm gonna go try to find Aislin, make sure she didn't get eaten by fucking wasps. Gods bloody damned magic shit." Reese gets a grin, then. "She probably stepped away to get a snack. She does this, time to time."

Aislin, still shaken, sees Freja safely back to the troops -- but then she overhears Vercyn, and nods. "We'll make a round," she offers. Shaken she might be, but duty calls; she moves to gather the least-injured of the scouting party, and take them on a patrol of the area. Doubtless it's clear, but . And afterwards -- much later -- she'll seek Freja and a few others out for a very serious talk.

"That we do," Agnarr concurs to Tikva, looking on to the battlefield, now empty. "Get moving." From his belt he fetches a piece of cloth, wiping his blade thoroughly clean when it is seen all the threats are gone, inspecting it thoroughly for battle damage (for that is the highest priority right now.) Nursing his stings, but otherwise unharmed, he joins Audric and the Few's retreat. "Turned tail, looks like," is his more candid explanation for Reese.

Maeve has left the Triage.

Olivia likely does not actually see the beginnings of the likely-to-be-infamous exchange upon the field, busy as she is hobbling along with patients and swinging her little wasp-be-gone strip (that may be doing more for her own psychological comfort than it actually does for chasing away demon wasps). However, when all the buzzing host is recalled back to its master, that is impossible to miss, and she does turn her gaze to follow them. What she can actually make out at her distance from the field of battle is dubious, but it's frightening all the same. That aside, she continues to usher along the wounded, and when Eirene rushes out to deal with the fallen Duke, does hustle to make herself available at her commander's side. "What shall we do, Lady Eirene?"

"Me too, Reesie," Tikva says weakly. "Me too."

Titania watches in slow motion as harald and Faelan move to fight the Horned one, her eyes watching everything, its line time slowed down for her she did not care that she was wounded what she cared about was her Duke and her friend. Watching him sil through the air and then Faelan torn apart she gasps annd once time catches up with her she runs for them, as fast as she can her helm coming off her head dropping it to the ground looking him over. "Duke Harald stay still, don't move." she looks over to Faelan, "What the hell!" she looks to Eirene then back at the two." Duke Harald forgive me but, What the utter fuck!" she sighsjust happy the man is alive for the moment. "What do you need me to do Lady Eirene?"

Reese turns toward Audric and sighs. "I would feel better if she were here, but..I probably won't have much luck finding her." She then turns over to Aislin, giving her a somber nod. Finally she turns to Agnarr. "Giant...." She says almost chidingly. She then turns to Tikva and sucks in a soft breath of intense relief. Her gaze travels to Harald and Faelan. She seems concerned for them, but not being a medic and have an army still to manage, keeps her from going toward them.

The Valorous Few Audric sends off make a good, concerted effort--they really do!--but they don't have any more luck than anyone else does in locating Shard either. She really isn't anyone in or remotely near Arx's beleaguered forces. On...the bright side? Neither is her body.

Relief floods his features when he finally spots Aiden - it is clear the well-being of the prince was at the forefront of his mind, regardless of the chaos and destruction around him. Silas urges his horse towards Aiden and his new war buddy. "Thank the gods..." He frowns when he gets closer and spots Aiden's thigh wound, and silently moves to pluck up the prince with a nod to the Grayson soldier. "Thank you. I can take it from here."

"Being brave's hard," Agnarr supposes at Reese, but he falls quiet after, looking off to the rather mangled Harald off there, being tended to. "Easy enough to overdo it, too." He doesn't assist his fellow members of the Few with finding Shard, though.

Vercyn has left the Cavalry Unit.

Eirene motions back to the triage tent for Tati and Olivia. "Fetch a stretcher, and some fucking pliers so we can get this armor off of him. We'll need to splint his neck so his head won't roll." She glances at Faelan and frowns, lips twitching. "You, dumbshit who followed the dumbshit. You still breathing at all? Someone see to him, gently." Leaning down, she checks Harald's ears for blood. Something he whispers makes her snort in amusement and she taps a finger on his forehead. "Shut up," she commands. "You've probably got crushed ribs, breathe slowly and don't talk."

Aiden has left the Archer's Position.

1 Grayson Guardsmen, Baron Archibald Chirpington, a Gyrfalcon leave, following Aiden.

Silas has left the Cavalry Unit.

Tikva has left the Archer's Position.

Confessor Imori have been dismissed.

2 Grayson Guardsmen have been dismissed.

Confessor Warren have been dismissed.

5 Armed Confessors have been dismissed.

As the Guards move to assist the medics with protection, not that there is much left to protect them against seeing the fact the entire army was wasps, and apparently is now part of Orichalcum, Merek decides then to look around, and then at his hands, before he looks up. He then sighs and shakes his head a bit, "Farhaven is safe then," he voices, while he looks to spare Guards, "Make sure that none snuck into the city if you can, along with the other forces." He then moves over towards where the others seem to be, then he notices that Reese is there. Being the closest current thing not busy that the Crown has here as a representative, "The Guard is under your command when I'm not around for now, the ones I brought at least. I am going to help them make sure all is well and put them to tasks. This war is far from finished."

Freja has left the Scouts and Killers.

"She's good at hiding," Audric says, rolling his shoulders in a shrug. "She'll turn up in a couple days." He turns, surveying the battlefield, and briefly glowers down at his hand, shaking it a few times. "I need a fucking drink, and I'm heading to my stupid fucking castle for a couple days to see if I can find anything we can use."