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Summer, 1331
The grasslands of Bordges were a dangerous place to be at this point. The Tassurians were pulling all the strength they could rally up and sending them South, creating long columns of troops trudging their way through the muddy terrain. With their opponents’ outposts stripped bare, the Jayhawkers became less restrained, raiding northerner supply caravans and attacking isolated individuals or units at will; leaving macabre remains and inviting punitive replies. Stragglers from both the Tassurian and Auxian armies, freebooters, desperate refugees and common bandits added to this potent mixture of violence and chaos.
For a full week, Logan's little party maneuvered through the Bordges without contacting anyone, friend or foe. Game was scarce among the cold grasslands where the fog clung thickly to the foot of the hills, and Logan’s party quickly began consuming the jerky. They had grown sick of consuming nothing but pemmican, except Sufjan, who made do with lichen and roots.
Finally one overcast morning they saw a small town sitting at the edge of the sea of grass.
Lord de Trobliand looked upon his map. “Oakley. The only significant settlement worth mentioning in this area. It should be isolated enough, but nevertheless we should avoid it. However it may be possible to restock some victuals here. Logan is probably the best of us to acquire supplies without arousing suspicion. The rest of us will keep our distance behind that hill.”
“Alright.” As with everyone else, the Forester was eager for a change in diet.
The party quickly found a shallow depression in the hillside slope and Mera curled up into it like a cat, the others settling down around the wyrm. Then throwing on a hooded cloak, Logan bid the others leave and set out, cutting over the hills and around the patchwork of fields arrayed around the town.
The Forester moved slowly, hopefully inconspicuously, just another traveler heading somewhere or a refugee seeking safety.
Perhaps because of the moist weather the fields remained empty and quiet.
Dismissing a feeling of unease, Logan continued on as the settlement gradually resolved into clarity.
Oakley appeared similarly dull and muddled and lifeless as well.
The Forester stopped.
That was strange. A town, even an isolated one, should always be a hive of activity in the morning.
But nothing stirred.
Something was wrong.
Logan carefully scanned the environment. The land all around was quiet, even the birds and deer that frequented open space like this were nowhere to be seen or heard.
Taking heed of his intuition, the cloaked figure quickly turned around and began heading back when he noticed a dark forest in the distance.
Oddly, it was one that he had not observed coming over.
And one that was moving.
Slowly that large mass moving through the fog began to resolve itself into figures. Hundreds, if not thousands of soldiers marched on, grumbling in hushed tones. The Forester heard Auxian, but also Trasgu, goblin, and other untraceable voices.
Quietly, inconspicuously, the lone figure changed his route and-when certain of being concealed-quickly ran back to join the others.
The fog was slowly lifting, and as Logan put a field between the forces approaching the town he could make out banners flapping with the Tassurian sun.
When the others got up to greet him Logan hissed back.
“There's a Tassurian army approaching!”
The dragon immediately assumed a fighting stance as the others drew their weapons.
The Normad Lord cursed.
“Wait a bit. We don't know the enemy depositions. This is not the time to panic and blunder into blocking units.”
“Liza and I will look for ways out from this area.” Sufjan announced. The Guster nodded in agreement.
“Sounds good.” Logan wiped the sweat from his brow.
“I will look towards the Other Men assault.” Dr. Moller scribbled upon her slate. “I may be able to obtain information.”
“Alright.”
As the women went out, the men of the party sat uncomfortably within the sea of grass with weapons at the ready, exposed on all sides with only the dissipating fog, the foliage and the gentle slope of the hill for cover.
Dr. Moller came back first.
“The attackers are three battalions of humans, a battalion of goblins, two battalions of cynos and a battalion of satyrs. A battalion of Trasgu.” She scribbled. “1400 troops.”
“A partisan hunting force.” Lord de Trobliand commented.
“The town is throwing out its militia, to ambush them in the fields. 1800.”
In the distance, the figures being discussed resolved into clarity; the small Tassurian army had halted near town and were fixing ranks and sending out skirmishers when they were suddenly struck by a hail of projectiles from the fields. As the enemy forces staggered, Auxian militia arose from the grain stalks and attacked the invaders. Polearms clashed as humans engaged in combat with humans and humanoids in several minutes of brutal combat. Satyrs screamed, cynos howled, goblins scrambled trying to find a perch to shoot. However, reeling from the attack, the Tassurian forces began to fall back.
“You humans are doing well it seems.” Karlen marveled.
“I will not bless the creator just yet.” Sufjan stated as she materialized out of the fog. “There are indeed blocking forces. Three groups of Men of the Snows. Two on foot, one on horse. The foot soldiers are joining the fighting.”
Karlen cursed.
“This is a search and destroy mission.” Lord de Trobliand finished. “There will be a significant battle, the town is likely doomed. We need to set off as soon as it is safe.”
Finally Liza appeared. “The way we came has enemy horsemen, but they are blocking the roads, awaiting orders. We can evade them by taking a route along a creek.”
“Glib lead the way, we need your luck!” Logan quickly turned to the dwarf.
“Okeydokey!” The rope maker shuffled ahead, followed by the others. Soon the party ascended a small rise, stopping to catch their breath and check upon the situation.
Back at town, the fresh Tassurian forces had arrived, closing in on the Auxians like a vice. While the defenders attempted to shift positions in response, individual soldiers were already breaking ranks. The Trasgu attacked immediately and quickly caved in the militia flanks, smashing the southerner lines to pieces. Now it was the humans’ turn to flee, and a trail of fallen led the way back into Oakley.
Watching their allies get slaughtered as they marched away, Logan’s party slowed their retreat, then stopped.
“We should help!” Liza finally exclaimed.
Lord de Trobliand shook his head. “We can’t fight an entire brigade.”
Mera perked up. Logan noticed.
“No! If you fight, we absolutely cannot have any survivors until we free your queen.” The Forester admonished. “Even the rest of us, if confronted, will be nothing more than a band of renegades like the thousands that reside in these territories. But if anyone finds you within our ranks they will hunt us and kill us all, and either kill your captive queen or guard her more heavily too. Understand?”
The dragon nodded wearily.
Logan’s party continued observing from a distance as the Tassurian forces steadily drove the human defenders back through the fields and into town, cheering as they entered the settlement and raising their banner over the palisade.
Then the situation changed again.
A commotion broke out on the edge of the city, and the Tassurian sun staggered and then fell, before being picked up again. Soon elements of the attacking force were falling back, while others were in a headlong retreat.
“Another ambush!” Karlen laughed and clapped. “That'll show those Men of the Snows and their hirelings!”
Lord de Trobliand got up.
“We should keep moving.”
Mera suddenly turned his head to the North, sniffing before his eyes suddenly widened and he gave a short, quiet roar and a growl.
Logan stopped.
“There are other dragons approaching.”
Lord de Trobliand was up in an instant. “We must hide. Mera, especially, must hide.”
“Where?” The Forester asked in panic. The party was completely exposed in the sea of grass.
“There!” Glib pointed at a low-lying hill nearby. “Quick! That knoll is covered in rosemary! We hide there!”
Without further comment, Logan’s party immediately ran headlong to the promontory, quickly crouching down in the brambly and pungent ground cover. The humanoids quickly disappeared among the shrubbery, but Mera stuck out like a sore thumb, his back exposed a good ten feet above the bushes. The humanoids shuffled awkwardly around the wyrm, who looked annoyed at the state of things.
“What does Mera do now?” The Forester asked.
Glib picked a stem of rosemary, crushed it with the palm of his hands, and wiped it over his clothes.
“Rub the herb over ourselves and the wyrm, try to look inconspicuous and hope for the best.”
“May as well get myself ready for cooking.” Logan muttered, but he did as he was told. Mera likewise rolled his eyes but did the same, feeling very much like a suckling pig being prepared. The others followed suit, except for Sufjan who simply disappeared into the landscape.
As hidden as they would ever be, everyone awaited the arrival of the enemy with tensed breath.
A few minutes later the Tassurian dragons abruptly broke through the clouds from the Northwest. A squadron of five individuals: a young, gold-scaled scout flying point, followed by a red, a green, a blue and a brown wyrm, all glided directly towards the ongoing battle at Oakley.
Mera caught his breath as the other dragons soared by, their distant shadows painting the fields and hills.
Luckily it appeared that the other wyrms were too focused on the fighting to notice the vague, errant scent of a fellow dragon. The threat passed without incident.
As the squadron left however, Mera caught a clear glimpse of his foes. They looked tired, wary, but determined.
Relief turned to melancholy, and the bronze dragon drooped.
The other wyrms looked familiar.
He didn't know them, but they reminded him of past friends and comrades.
Neil Young - War Song
From
Chickenzaur!
Original: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/62211491/
The grasslands of Bordges were a dangerous place to be at this point. The Tassurians were pulling all the strength they could rally up and sending them South, creating long columns of troops trudging their way through the muddy terrain. With their opponents’ outposts stripped bare, the Jayhawkers became less restrained, raiding northerner supply caravans and attacking isolated individuals or units at will; leaving macabre remains and inviting punitive replies. Stragglers from both the Tassurian and Auxian armies, freebooters, desperate refugees and common bandits added to this potent mixture of violence and chaos.
For a full week, Logan's little party maneuvered through the Bordges without contacting anyone, friend or foe. Game was scarce among the cold grasslands where the fog clung thickly to the foot of the hills, and Logan’s party quickly began consuming the jerky. They had grown sick of consuming nothing but pemmican, except Sufjan, who made do with lichen and roots.
Finally one overcast morning they saw a small town sitting at the edge of the sea of grass.
Lord de Trobliand looked upon his map. “Oakley. The only significant settlement worth mentioning in this area. It should be isolated enough, but nevertheless we should avoid it. However it may be possible to restock some victuals here. Logan is probably the best of us to acquire supplies without arousing suspicion. The rest of us will keep our distance behind that hill.”
“Alright.” As with everyone else, the Forester was eager for a change in diet.
The party quickly found a shallow depression in the hillside slope and Mera curled up into it like a cat, the others settling down around the wyrm. Then throwing on a hooded cloak, Logan bid the others leave and set out, cutting over the hills and around the patchwork of fields arrayed around the town.
The Forester moved slowly, hopefully inconspicuously, just another traveler heading somewhere or a refugee seeking safety.
Perhaps because of the moist weather the fields remained empty and quiet.
Dismissing a feeling of unease, Logan continued on as the settlement gradually resolved into clarity.
Oakley appeared similarly dull and muddled and lifeless as well.
The Forester stopped.
That was strange. A town, even an isolated one, should always be a hive of activity in the morning.
But nothing stirred.
Something was wrong.
Logan carefully scanned the environment. The land all around was quiet, even the birds and deer that frequented open space like this were nowhere to be seen or heard.
Taking heed of his intuition, the cloaked figure quickly turned around and began heading back when he noticed a dark forest in the distance.
Oddly, it was one that he had not observed coming over.
And one that was moving.
Slowly that large mass moving through the fog began to resolve itself into figures. Hundreds, if not thousands of soldiers marched on, grumbling in hushed tones. The Forester heard Auxian, but also Trasgu, goblin, and other untraceable voices.
Quietly, inconspicuously, the lone figure changed his route and-when certain of being concealed-quickly ran back to join the others.
The fog was slowly lifting, and as Logan put a field between the forces approaching the town he could make out banners flapping with the Tassurian sun.
When the others got up to greet him Logan hissed back.
“There's a Tassurian army approaching!”
The dragon immediately assumed a fighting stance as the others drew their weapons.
The Normad Lord cursed.
“Wait a bit. We don't know the enemy depositions. This is not the time to panic and blunder into blocking units.”
“Liza and I will look for ways out from this area.” Sufjan announced. The Guster nodded in agreement.
“Sounds good.” Logan wiped the sweat from his brow.
“I will look towards the Other Men assault.” Dr. Moller scribbled upon her slate. “I may be able to obtain information.”
“Alright.”
As the women went out, the men of the party sat uncomfortably within the sea of grass with weapons at the ready, exposed on all sides with only the dissipating fog, the foliage and the gentle slope of the hill for cover.
Dr. Moller came back first.
“The attackers are three battalions of humans, a battalion of goblins, two battalions of cynos and a battalion of satyrs. A battalion of Trasgu.” She scribbled. “1400 troops.”
“A partisan hunting force.” Lord de Trobliand commented.
“The town is throwing out its militia, to ambush them in the fields. 1800.”
In the distance, the figures being discussed resolved into clarity; the small Tassurian army had halted near town and were fixing ranks and sending out skirmishers when they were suddenly struck by a hail of projectiles from the fields. As the enemy forces staggered, Auxian militia arose from the grain stalks and attacked the invaders. Polearms clashed as humans engaged in combat with humans and humanoids in several minutes of brutal combat. Satyrs screamed, cynos howled, goblins scrambled trying to find a perch to shoot. However, reeling from the attack, the Tassurian forces began to fall back.
“You humans are doing well it seems.” Karlen marveled.
“I will not bless the creator just yet.” Sufjan stated as she materialized out of the fog. “There are indeed blocking forces. Three groups of Men of the Snows. Two on foot, one on horse. The foot soldiers are joining the fighting.”
Karlen cursed.
“This is a search and destroy mission.” Lord de Trobliand finished. “There will be a significant battle, the town is likely doomed. We need to set off as soon as it is safe.”
Finally Liza appeared. “The way we came has enemy horsemen, but they are blocking the roads, awaiting orders. We can evade them by taking a route along a creek.”
“Glib lead the way, we need your luck!” Logan quickly turned to the dwarf.
“Okeydokey!” The rope maker shuffled ahead, followed by the others. Soon the party ascended a small rise, stopping to catch their breath and check upon the situation.
Back at town, the fresh Tassurian forces had arrived, closing in on the Auxians like a vice. While the defenders attempted to shift positions in response, individual soldiers were already breaking ranks. The Trasgu attacked immediately and quickly caved in the militia flanks, smashing the southerner lines to pieces. Now it was the humans’ turn to flee, and a trail of fallen led the way back into Oakley.
Watching their allies get slaughtered as they marched away, Logan’s party slowed their retreat, then stopped.
“We should help!” Liza finally exclaimed.
Lord de Trobliand shook his head. “We can’t fight an entire brigade.”
Mera perked up. Logan noticed.
“No! If you fight, we absolutely cannot have any survivors until we free your queen.” The Forester admonished. “Even the rest of us, if confronted, will be nothing more than a band of renegades like the thousands that reside in these territories. But if anyone finds you within our ranks they will hunt us and kill us all, and either kill your captive queen or guard her more heavily too. Understand?”
The dragon nodded wearily.
Logan’s party continued observing from a distance as the Tassurian forces steadily drove the human defenders back through the fields and into town, cheering as they entered the settlement and raising their banner over the palisade.
Then the situation changed again.
A commotion broke out on the edge of the city, and the Tassurian sun staggered and then fell, before being picked up again. Soon elements of the attacking force were falling back, while others were in a headlong retreat.
“Another ambush!” Karlen laughed and clapped. “That'll show those Men of the Snows and their hirelings!”
Lord de Trobliand got up.
“We should keep moving.”
Mera suddenly turned his head to the North, sniffing before his eyes suddenly widened and he gave a short, quiet roar and a growl.
Logan stopped.
“There are other dragons approaching.”
Lord de Trobliand was up in an instant. “We must hide. Mera, especially, must hide.”
“Where?” The Forester asked in panic. The party was completely exposed in the sea of grass.
“There!” Glib pointed at a low-lying hill nearby. “Quick! That knoll is covered in rosemary! We hide there!”
Without further comment, Logan’s party immediately ran headlong to the promontory, quickly crouching down in the brambly and pungent ground cover. The humanoids quickly disappeared among the shrubbery, but Mera stuck out like a sore thumb, his back exposed a good ten feet above the bushes. The humanoids shuffled awkwardly around the wyrm, who looked annoyed at the state of things.
“What does Mera do now?” The Forester asked.
Glib picked a stem of rosemary, crushed it with the palm of his hands, and wiped it over his clothes.
“Rub the herb over ourselves and the wyrm, try to look inconspicuous and hope for the best.”
“May as well get myself ready for cooking.” Logan muttered, but he did as he was told. Mera likewise rolled his eyes but did the same, feeling very much like a suckling pig being prepared. The others followed suit, except for Sufjan who simply disappeared into the landscape.
As hidden as they would ever be, everyone awaited the arrival of the enemy with tensed breath.
A few minutes later the Tassurian dragons abruptly broke through the clouds from the Northwest. A squadron of five individuals: a young, gold-scaled scout flying point, followed by a red, a green, a blue and a brown wyrm, all glided directly towards the ongoing battle at Oakley.
Mera caught his breath as the other dragons soared by, their distant shadows painting the fields and hills.
Luckily it appeared that the other wyrms were too focused on the fighting to notice the vague, errant scent of a fellow dragon. The threat passed without incident.
As the squadron left however, Mera caught a clear glimpse of his foes. They looked tired, wary, but determined.
Relief turned to melancholy, and the bronze dragon drooped.
The other wyrms looked familiar.
He didn't know them, but they reminded him of past friends and comrades.
Neil Young - War Song
From
Chickenzaur!Original: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/62211491/
Category Artwork (Traditional) / Fantasy
Species Western Dragon
Size 3273 x 1953px
File Size 4.41 MB
Listed in Folders
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