Retaking Buhr Marling: Battle beneath weeping skies

Mauler Street

The Southern gated entrance to Buhr Mahrling leads to a crowded avenue lined shops and houses on both sides.

A plethora of color, sounds, and smells assault the senses during the day. People of all ranges of occupations mob the streets, from fur clad nomads and their caravans of leather to drab mothers with children in tow shopping for their daily meal. Voices ring out constantly from the shops and merchants. Despite the chaos, local guards patrol the street at all times, their scimitars in plain view.

Obvious exits:

North leads to North Mauler Street.

The Risen Aye leads to The Risen Aye.

North West leads to Millers Market.

South Gate leads to Outside the South Gate.

=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Real Time: Sun Jul 03 14:44:22 2011 MST

Dale-Lands Time:

Monday, late morning on a rainy spring\'s day, May 1 of 3053

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

The morning\'s light has come to the town of Buhr Mahrling, but no sunny day is this over the contested streets. The clouds have gathered during the night, and now they themselves weep at the blood that has been shed beenath their watch the rain falling steadily to churn the dust of the streets into straw-laden mud.

But the appointed hour has struck, and no spittle from the heavens will deter the Men of Dale as they march south-east from the Millers Market the Barding soldiers stern of brow and gaze as they make their way in search of battle The banners of Girion and Karath are flown proudly from their midst, and no fewer than five hundreds of the fighting men of King Brand have come to drive their foe from this land.

At their fore strides Lord Lorthrain of Girion, his armour newly repaired and his shield held at the ready. As he leads the King\'s Men in search of the remainder of the warriors of Rhun his sword never leaves his hand, and after rounding the corner of Mauler Street, finally he draws to a halt.

It would seem the lieutenant has caught sight of the enemy.

[Barlin(#26904)]

Waking unusually steady, and devoid of any cane or supporting stick, is the armoured figure of Barlin Karath the silver arrow of his Order emblazoned across his black breastplate, he strides beside Lorthrain Girion, his face grim but determined. In one hand, a longsword gleams as it catched the morning light, its hilt glittering with splendid jewels but this weapon has been fashioned to do more than shine, evidently, its edge cutting through the air with sanguine ease.

\" There...\" He growls softly under his breath, as his eyes, too, catch sight of the eternal foe, \"... Let us end this.\"

By his side, the immense frame of Lord Irin, master of Karath, towers over those nearest to him. Built like mountain bear, his huge limbs are wrapped in layers of mail and steel, forming an almost impenetrable hide. His fingers curl around the neck of a war hammer, the head of which is the size of a small child.

Spotting the Easterlings, he lifts his enormous weapon in challenge. \" Come and lick my shit, you fatherless bastards!\"

[Fenn(#19652)]

Eastern horns flare without order at the muster of the Dalemen, their blows flying meek and crooked to the clouds above. The dark men of Rhun, reduced but armored yet, are heralded by this faltering boom and, as it floats and heaves, parroted throughout their assembling ranks again and again, they stand likewise still.

This battle has sought them, it would seem, and they move now only to greet it. Some hundreds of shorter, already battered men take the fore Variags, collected among themselves, strengthen the flanks and a slight Honor Guard, trotting atop famished horses, gather at the back of the host.

They await the men of Dale, their horns prefacing their steel.

Amongst those following the Girion\'s banner and rather closer to the forefront he\'d like is Brev (or Brunni? He\'ll grudgingly answer to either). Clearly, healers\' advice is ignored even by their own number, for he\'s managed to work his way into his familiar leather jerkin and his spear is in his right hand, even though the left arm is strapped to his side. Someone has loaned him a small buckler, strapped there also in lieu of shield.

Irin\'s outburst raises no smile from him, though the fellow to his right is smothering a chortle. Heads are craning to see what Lorthrain has found, and a few cries of \"Dale! Dale! For Bard\'s line! For the King!\" ripple out in answer.

[Refson(#23955)]

Despite their earlier defeat and the loss of countless of their proudest warriors, it is clear the score of the Easterling army is still plenty. Row upon row awaits the Northmen advance, their swarthy faces grim as they are being driven to this desperate last stand.

Amidst them, as mentioned, are an array of unusually tall and burly men: Variags of Khand. Broadly shouldered, heavy bearded, dark skinned and clad in naught but leather hides are these brutes, but bearing a weapon so weighty it would bring a normal man to his knees giant, double-bladed axes and war hammers of dreadful make. Their bulky figures can be seen at both flanks, in order to reinforce their brethren of lesser stature.

Still they stand, until one steps from their ranks forth: a massive specimen, with a blocky hammer casually upon his right shoulder. His beard glistens wanly due to the constant drizzle, and reddish eyes appraise their foes. He then proceeds to spit upon the muddy ground before him, raises the heavy weapon with little effort and commences to pound his bare, hairy chest with the fist of his free arm. A coarse cry comes from deep within his throat, in contempt of those before him...

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

And the sight of these fearsome brutes brings a low growl from Lorthrain\'s lips as he gazes upon them from beneath his helm. The Girion lord surveys the foe a moment longer, ere he turns to the Lords of Karath. \"If you lords will lead the charge against the main foe, I myself have business with these giants among them a score that has not yet been settled in full.\"

Turning then to face Brev nearby, the lieutenant of the King\'s Men permits himself a grim grin, to ask: \"Are you with me again, Giantsbane? Or are you already one of those fit only for the sickroom, as you described earlier?\"

Brev clearly has very definite ideas on that particular title. He does not deign to answer until the fellow on his right, the same one who had chuckled at Lord Irin\'s pithiness, moves in and gives him a shove in the small of the back so that he must perforce move forward. \"I intend to /stay/ fit for the sickroom,\" he mutters sourly, then scowls and scans the enemy lines. \"There\'s some of the big fellows either end,\" he points out. \"Split to take them on?\" He gestures with his own spear to suggest moving left. \"Though that one,\" a jerk of the spear-tip indicates the posturing barechest, \"is all yours.\"

[Barlin(#26904)]

Marching around Barlin and Lorthrain, are all the finest warriors of the realm there, only a step behind his father Irin, is Bernar Karath, just as huge as his sire but thirty years younger, and all the more vigorous for it. Harlin, brother to Barlin, stands beside him, his eyes hard and focused a buckel shield dresses his left arm, whilst a thin rapier glitters in his right. Surrounding the lords of Karath are the finest of the house lesser nobles and knights, hand-picked for their prowess and valour. Many were among the number that rode south with Barlin of the Black Arrow, only a month or so ago.

As the cries sound, all eyes shift to the Easterling remnants, clustered close enough for the whites of their eyes to show.

Barlin speaks grimly, but loud enough for those close to hear. \" We should be cautious. They may have something planned...\"

\" For Brand!\" Irin roars, brandishing the war hammer as he springs forward, his massive thighs powering the colossus like pistons.

\" Shit!\" Barlin swears, eyes widening, \"... Lord Karath! Irin!\" He shakes his head, spits once, and then follows his reckless cousin. \" On him!\"

The lords of Karath surge forward, Irin leading the charge.

[Fenn(#19652)]

The thunderous fury of the Dalemen\'s reckless charge seems, for the battle\'s first moments, too much for the already frayed men of Rhun: their recent defeat not forgotten, they appear routed by the mere flash of steel, and withdraw in full and rowdy haste to their rear, albeit that the sturdy Variags stand unmoved.

Yet suddenly, in battle\'s haste, their foul tongues soon ring forth hatefully, bolstered by thrown dart and varied bow and their front ranks wheel to withstand the rush of the Dalemen. Their tall berserkers, all the while, have gained an attack upon the sides of the charging forces.

The lords of Karath are thus met fiercely, scimitars ushering forth to eagerly and greedily cut them down in surprise, as the horsed Honor Guard speeds to Dale\'s back to complete the encirclement.

Easterling Forces lashes at Barlin with their jagged swords.

Easterling Forces badly wounds him!

[Refson(#23955)]

While the center of the Easterling army withdrew, the flanks stood fast, bolstered by the hulking Variags, driving the bulk of the Bardings to the center in an attempt to enclose them. In their mangled tongue and threateningly swinging their bulky arms do these dark giants inspire dread within their very own ranks, commanding their allies from Rhun to hold their ground at their side.

And then, as with a clear ring of steel the two forces violently clash, does the carnage start. The massive Variag -- called Zaius -- at the fore, near the right flank, falters and stops the pounding of his impressive chest, grabbing the large war hammer with both hands. Again, a load roar slips from his throat, rousing his brethren as he leaps forward to meet the charge head on.

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

But his own charge has not escaped the lieutenant of the Bardings, and as Zaius steps forth a fierce cry of challenge is sent his way by Lorthrain. The Girion lord steps forward in turn, after a rueful grin to Brev, ere he points his sword towards the barrel-chested cheiftain of Khand. \"Come, bear-man, and let a scion of the Bowman pull your teeth!\"

And with that the company under his command sallies forth, streaking to meet within these flanking Variags, and Lorthrain\'s blade slices hither and thither in a bid to hack his way to face Zaius.

Lorthrain attacks Variag Bezerkers with his Longsword and lightly wounds it!

Brev\'s response to the sight of Lord Irin\'s glorious charge is a short sharp oath in Dunael, followed by a muttered, \"Damn fool. They\'ll bloody circle us!\" His own group is more mixed than Barlin\'s - but noble or common, they are King\'s Men to the last, and follow authority where a Girion Lord has placed it. Most of those around him bear spears kin to his own, raindrops glittering dully on the upraised tips.

As the Easterling pincers close in, Brev and his fellows move to engage the Variag berserkers\' left flank, spears braced and steady, a wall of bristling hedgehog spines to meet the wild battering of the Variag charge. Brev himself is near the centre of the line as the Rhunnish antagonists draw near, yelling and shouting incomprehensible obscenities, he squints and then sends his own spear forward one-handed, swift as a striking snake, aiming to mark one of those bare chests.

You attack Variag Bezerkers with your Spear...

Your attack against Variag Bezerkers moderately wounds it!

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

As the horsemen of the Easterling honour guard strafe their way past the thick of the action, their own leader has a snarl and a scowl to offer the Dale-men garish war-paint granting his visage an even fiercer tone. The coals of his eyes fix upon the mighty figure of Irin, picking him out from the rest of the lords of Karath, and slippnig from his mount\'s back the savage commander stalks forward warily.

His blade is curved and serrated, a vicious weapon indeed that plunges into the back of one Barding soldier who steps into his way, and as he shoves the dying man aside, he cackles out in challenge to the head of House Karath.

[Barlin(#26904)]

Barlin muffles a grunt as a spear thrust passes his guard, raking over the dark mail, sending blood-tinged rings scattering across the paved road. Stumbling to the side, his eyes flicker up to spot the figure of the offending warrior, and his blade follows on intuition planting on his left foot, he swings in an upward arc, attempting to slit open the Easterling\'s belly.

All around him, soldiers collide, the banners of Karath and Dale flapping violently in the wind as blood splatters here and there, men impaled on spears, slit open by blades and hacked by crude axes. The final battle begins.

Barlin attacks Easterling Forces with his Longsword and badly wounds it!

[Fenn(#19652)]

A great laugh erupts across the Easterling horde as the their Variag allies unleash upon the Bardings, mixing cruelly with the storm\'s din and the sharp clash of steel upon steel. Those first lines that turned upon the charging lords of Karath are forced however instead to grunts and screams for even as they rejoice in their subterfuge, they are slain, allowing the tried advance of Dale\'s forces.

Barlin\'s enemy is opened from waist to throat another soon replaces him, swooping a scimitar for the man\'s head in a savagely plain attempt to behead him.

Easterling Forces lashes at Barlin with their jagged swords.

Easterling Forces\'s attack misses Barlin.

[Barlin(#26904)]

Irin Karath was once nicknamed \"The Bull\" by his companions of youth and for good reason. Even as the East\'s finest dart to intercept him, he smashes his way through with a bellow that could shake the ground. Armour gleaming in the hot sun, sweat glistening on his scarcely-haired head, he swings this way and that, effortlessly swinging the colossal battle hammer that few other men could lift. His own knights dare not stray near he is in no need of protecting, and the mad fire in his eye is hardly the look of a man who can distinguish friend from foe in the chaos of battle.

But then a Dale soldier slumps to the ground before him, and a wicked voice reaches his ears. Smashing an aggressor aside, the Lord of Karath looks up and spots Zokhyn. Instantly, Irin can feel the hatred and anger swell up in the pit of his belly, like a storm churning and bubbling, preparing to unleash itself upon the helpless. Stepping forward, the huge man sneers.

\" Come and have it, dog...\" He spits, heaving the battle hammer up, \"... This hammer has your name on it.\"

And with that, he springs forward, bellowing as he swings the hammer up and around, the weapon buzzing through the air as it approaches the war-leader\'s skull with devastating velocity.

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

But the leader of the Easterlings, a fierce warrior known to his fellows as Zokhyn, is no longer there when the hammer of Karath falls. Nimble and shrewd. the smaller figure dances about the great Lord Irin, spitting and sneering his disdain for the soldier of Dale. \"Wrapped in your steel skin, eh?\" he taunts in broken Westron. \"Let\'s prise you open...\"

And with that the jagged blade of Zokhyn slices out, seeking perhaps to sweep away Irin\'s leading leg and send the armoured knight toppling to the ground.

Blood is not lacking today already the rain-washed streets are pink-tinged, and slick and treacherous underfoot. Out on the flank the conflict is vicious: a double-bladed axe shears through the spear of the man to Brev\'s left, leaving him with naught but a short shaft of splintered wood. This the unlucky soldier thrusts into the Variag\'s belly the axe comes down again and the spearman is still, though another spear flashes past, aimed squarely between the brute\'s eyes.

[Refson(#23955)]

Their own ferocity met with such firm determination, Zaius slows his pace cautiously. As he reaches the first of the Northmen line, his fearsome hammer swings to and fro, effortlessly clearing anything in his way like a relentless pendulum sweeping Barding lives aside instead of time. That is, until he takes notice of the advance Lorthrain\'s company, just in time to see one of his comrades slain by the Girion commander and combined enemy effort. A coarse growl is emitted as he stands to face the man with a band of his own kinsman, and with little heed for defense does he bear his weapon upon Lorthrain.

As evidenced before, invincible they are not, these beastly men, for there falls one to Dalish steel, at the left flank, skewered by the well aimed spear of the odd foreigner, Brev -- his reputation holds true, it seems. With a grunt does the brute collapse, only to be replaced by two others of equal menacing physique.

Variag Bezerkers close in on Lorthrain to do him harm.

Variag Bezerkers attacks Lorthrain, but Lorthrain parries the attack with his Longsword!

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

The Girion lord maybe be encased in steel, but the lords of Dale wear often the work of the smithies of Erebor, and light is Lorthrain\'s burden as he darts to one side evading the wrath of Zaius\' hammer. Raising his shield, his brown eyes turned fierce as the rain sleets down over the battle, the lieutenant of the King\'s Men stabs forth his blade, seeking to skewer the Variag captain\'s shoulder it would seem.

Lorthrain attacks Variag Bezerkers with his Longsword and moderately wounds it!

Brev has little time for rise and fall of others around him, caught up as he is in his own conflict. When the first Easterling goes down - rather suspiciously for such a light-handed stroke, should anyone mark it - he grunts and swings the spear-tip sideways to meet one of the pair of Variags that follow. In the close press of bodies there is little room for his usual ducking and dodging, but he turns his side so that if he\'s lucky buckler and not flesh will meet whatever axe or hammer-blade should issue forth from the second of these new opponents.

You attack Variag Bezerkers with your Spear...

Your attack against Variag Bezerkers moderately wounds it!

[Barlin(#26904)]

Even as Barlin\'s blade cuts smoothly through one foe\'s innards, the attack of another is caught in the corner of his eye and, once again acting on intuitions earned through years of conflict, the veteran knight ducks, the curved scimitar hewing only a single hair follicle from his head (upon which it was lonely, anyway).

Rising up, the lord of Karath thrusts forward, making a focused attempt at driving his long sword into the intestines of the Easterling.

All around him, the sounds of war erupt he can hear, subconsiously, the cries of his younger brother Harlin as he weaves his way through the bloodshed, deflecting blows with the buckler, jabbing out in all directions with the crimson-tipped rapier, which sings as it dances. Lord Bernar with all the ferocity of his father, if a little less vocally, the great sword hewing men in half with demonic ease.

Barlin attacks Easterling Forces with his Longsword and badly wounds it!

[Barlin(#26904)]

Irin hisses as the hammer misses its mark but wastes no more time on expressions of irritation. Twisting his tree-like leg, the snaking blade is deflected by the huge thigh plate.

\" Sting, little wasp, but you will not fell me.\" He growls, pacing around as he twirls his colossal weapon, \"... I am Irin Karath. Know my name. I want it to ring in your ears as you are hurled into oblivion.\" And with that, he heaves it upwards and steps forward, swinging around once more this time, the hammer-head whips downwards, aiming to smash the Easterling\'s legs into shattered remnants of bone and flesh.

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

Zokhyn is nimble yet, and does not fall prey to the intentions of Irin so easily, though all the same the hammer is a fearsome weapon and its arc is swift the Easterling commander unable to escape its wrath entirely. Lightly armoured, his shoulder is caught into the way of the mighty blow, and down the Rhunese man goes, sprawling upon the churned dirt in pain.

Coal-black eyes glare up at Irin, ere the man rolls in a bid to regain his footing.

[Refson(#23955)]

Seeing his vicious weapon swing wildly past the Lorthrain, the Variag grunts in dismay at such unexpected nimbleness from his foe. A moment later, the sting of the Girion blade transforms the grunt in a roar, not as much in pain as in anger at such defiance. The sharp Barding steel connects with its intended target and severs the thick muscles atop the brute\'s shoulder. Zaius takes a step back while considering his opponent a moment, his wounded limb useless at his side. Yet, one arm seems sufficient for wielding the enormous hammer, for suddenly he lungers forward anew, now swinging the weapon from left to right in a clear arc.

Variag Bezerkers close in on Lorthrain to do him harm.

Variag Bezerkers attacks Lorthrain, but Lorthrain parries the attack with his shield!

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

The steel of Dale is tested anew by Zaius\' own hammer, and with the image of the dragon splayed across his shield Lorthrain raises it desperately to save his life. A mighty ring of metals echoes out beneath the patter of the rain, and Lorthrain is battered away to the side unharmed but not unshaken.

Caution then kindles in his eyes as he circles with his monstrous foe a wary few swipes of his blade from behind his now-dented shield ere he lashes at the Variag\'s throat. Though in truth, his feet are moving all the while, and this seems a more dfeensive gesture to keep the giant of a man at bay.

Lorthrain attacks Variag Bezerkers with his Longsword, but he misses by a handspan.

Variag Bezerkers close in on Lorthrain to do him harm.

Variag Bezerkers\'s attack misses Lorthrain.

[Fenn(#19652)]

Barlin\'s Easterling attacker is skewered, easing to limpness upon the Barding\'s steel. The center of Rhun\'s horde begins then swiftly to thin, their tired and battered ranks seemingly unfit for new battle some alarm sends a few troops backwards, while the most veteran hasten to fortify their front, if only to anvil their foes for the Variag\'s hammer.

One among them means to make advantage of his comrade\'s death: he feints for a thrust as the new corpse burdens Barlin\'s blade, ere a twain of hurried steps to gain him position to the right, allowing a swinging blow for his opponent\'s lower back.

Easterling Forces lashes at Barlin with their jagged swords.

Easterling Forces attacks Barlin, but Barlin parries the attack with his shield!

[Refson(#23955)]

And again, Brev\'s spear eagerly finds new flesh to taste, driving itself into the hip of one of the charging giants. These leather hides they bear do little to protect them from enemy steel, that much is clear. One wonders what dreadful opponents these lumbering Variags would be if they were clad in Dwarven armour. Whatever the case , even as the foreigner\'s weapon strikes true and forces one opponent to fall a step back, another does manage to clear the distance, sweeping a large axe at the man\'s head.

Variag Bezerkers close in on Brev to do him harm.

...and you parry its attack with your Spear!

The line of battle curves and sways, graceful as rippling water, though there is neither grace nor mercy to be found beneath its shadow. Away from the turbulent centre, the Men of Dale seem to be holding their ground for now. After the initial assault of the feared steppe horse-archers, few yet fierce, Dale-lands\' own bowmen have rallied and long straight shafts of yew are raised to counter the contorted weapons of horn and sinew.

Brev, caught up in the melee, does not bother to watch his first opponent after the first blow is struck. Overconfidence or foreknowledge? As it is, when the axe-blade comes hurtling toward his head he has time not only to duck but to raise his braced spear, deflecting the motion away. A grunt escapes him as the jarring runs down his good arm and is felt in the other shoulder. A heartbeat perhaps, no more, and the spear darts hungrily forward to seek the Variag\'s side below the monstrous weapon-arm.

You attack Variag Bezerkers with your Spear...

Your attack against Variag Bezerkers lightly wounds it!

Variag Bezerkers close in on Brev to do him harm.

...and it misses!

[Barlin(#26904)]

Barlin grimaces as his blade pierces the seal of skin, sinking into a squishy cushion of bowels and organs but instantly, he knows he is under threat once more. Less a perception than a fatalistic sense warns him he spots no approaching foe, but can feel a breath on his neck which sets his hairs a-tingle. Grunting, he places a booted foot against the impaled man and thrusts, sending the flailing Easterling crashing to the ground. And then, desperately, he turns, bringing his blade arcing up to deflect a blow singing towards his neck...

But it was just a feint. The enemy ducks under his defensive blade, his weapon swinging towards Barlin\'s lower back. And as he does, the old knight\'s eyes widen in surprise luckily, though, his shield is at hand, and even as the enemy flanks him it is lifting. With metallic clang, the blow strikes the shield, and the lord of Karath is battered forward, his foot catching an almost-cadaver and sending him crashing into the legs of a nearby enemy.

[Barlin(#26904)]

Irin bellows a triumph as soon as the chieftain hits the paved ground leaping forward, he heaves the immense war hammer high, as if saluting the morning sun before bringing it crashing down, in an attempt to crush the man\'s skull against the warm stone.

[Refson(#23955)]

A clear ring echoes over the chaotic battlefield as Zaius\' hammer crashes into the royal shield, held by Lorthrain. Even though the impact was considerable, the giant not even twitches and instead decides to retreat a step at yet another failed attack. And it seems this caution -- well, whatever caution a berserker might have, I guess -- just about saves him as the Girion commander strikes for his throat, yet falls an inch short. In turn, Zaius retaliates, this time with a shorter and swifter swing. And misses. Again!

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

Lorthrain is forced back another pace by the fury of Zaius, and even though the hammer misses, the Girion lord is given fresh pause. But then he is on the move, charging to the side of the mighty hulk of humanity his blade dragging in his wake. Up it snakes as he passes the brute, seeking it seems to give Zaius a little more than a shave upon the chin.

Lorthrain attacks Variag Bezerkers with his Longsword, but he misses by a mile.

Variag Bezerkers close in on Lorthrain to do him harm.

Variag Bezerkers\'s attack misses Lorthrain.

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

And in the meanwhile, Irin\'s foe is not yet for the crushing the Easterling commander rolls away just as the Karath lord\'s hammer comes crashing into the ground. The earth itself jolts from the impact, but even as Zokhyn blinks, startled, he soon recovers hacking once more at irin\'s leg before the man has a chance to heft his hammer once more.

[Refson(#23955)]

The one assailing Brev mutters below his breath, as the spear bites his side eagerly, withdrawing Eastern blood from the man\'s body. A small moment\'s pause only does this give the foreigner, until the Variag recovers and drives the axe forward again. Unfortunately, the swing manages to go wide anew, exposing him to further retaliation. In the meanwhile, the one struck in the hip has drawn closer as well, and lashes out impatiently for the man\'s spear-arm.

Variag Bezerkers close in on Brev to do him harm.

...and it misses!

[Fenn(#19652)]

The veterans harry their enemies cautiously, many carrying makeshift shields where the younger do not. Yet, even as the war doyens of Rhun gather to form sturdier of a line, the weight of Barlin boulders disastrously into them. A few are sent back, some dominoing behind but when they regain their footing, they, in a group, angle inwards upon the overly advanced Barding.

Even so -- and abruptly then -- flies the charge of the Honor Guard from behind, their steeds fusing their power into what appears their determined final charge. A fell scimitar swings from atop an incoming destrier, passing for Barlin\'s throat.

Easterling Forces lashes at Barlin with their jagged swords.

Easterling Forces badly wounds him!

[Refson(#23955)]

Zaius -- though badly in need of a shave -- again sees his foe\'s blade pass upon a mere inch of his face, only managing to get away unscathed thanks to a flick of his large head. If anything, you must admit the Variag is stubborn and resilient, for once more does he strike at the seeminly invincible Girion lord. And misses! Oh, the drama...

This time, Brev\'s opponent is not so easily felled, \"Damn,\" the foreigner mutters softly as he ducks beneath the swing. \"Wearing off. Must be all this bloody rain ...\"

Beside him, the fellow who had chuckled at Lord Irin has lost his spear but gained a wicked-looking battle-axe. Brev edges away from a wild swing - which providentially takes him out of reach of that lashing blow from the injured Easterner - and hollers out, \"Sure you know how to use that thing?\"

\"Don\'t worry,\" comes the response. \"I was a woodcutter before I joined the King\'s men.\" The jolly woodcutter sets to felling this forest of giants with good will.

Brev, for his part, returns to that side-pricked opponent now he changes tactic with a swift jab at one knee. Down is as good as out, right? \"Keep pushing,\" he calls in distracted encouragement to those around him.

You attack Variag Bezerkers with your Spear...

Your attack against Variag Bezerkers lightly wounds it!

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

Lorthrain may not prove to be invincible, however, for even as he dodges the strike of Zaius he is backpedalling heavily. His chest rises and falls beneath his armour, breath becoming laboured from the extertion, though with a snarl of resolve he ceases is retreat. Shield raised high, his sword at the ready, he closes once more with the brute, and his sword snakes forth in search of the man\'s savage heart.

Lorthrain attacks Variag Bezerkers with his Longsword and moderately wounds it!

[Refson(#23955)]

As the battle wears on, it becomes increasingly evident the Easterling numbers are dwindling. One could be surprised they held out as long as they did, with the previous defeat and losses in mind. Yet, they stand fast still, these warriors from the distant East, not in the least thanks to their tactic of enclosing the Northmen. Even if they are at last vanquished here, at this very spot, they will have taken a good number of Barding soldiers with them.

[Barlin(#26904)]

As the Eastern veterans topple around him, Barlin knows he is in trouble. He has advanced too far into the enemy line, strayed too close to the wall of spear and blade he has seen many a valiant warrior fall in similar situations (curiously, being cut off from allies and surrounded by dangerous enemies never seemed to effect Irin. But then, little ever does). As he hits the ground, the Knight of the Black Arrow glances up and, in a brief moment, he sees through the eyes of a dying man. Strewn at the feet of the living combatants are just as many fallen, some dead, but others yet to die it is these men he sees, staring up in horror, oblivious of the battle around them and locked in their own world a world which is about to disappear into blackness and oblivion.

But then that Karath fire sparks in Barlin\'s belly, and he snatches up his blade as he drives himself to his feet. Battering away a nearby foe, the sound of thumping hooves reaches his ears. Turning, he moves quickly enough to see a scimitar cutting down towards him with a soft hiss, it opens up his right breast. Stumbling back, Barlin of the Black Arrow thuds into another Easterling, grunting at the impact. His vision flushing crimson, he pushes away and hacks backwards, attempting to clear himself some room to breath.

Barlin attacks Easterling Forces with his Longsword and severely wounds it!

[Refson(#23955)]

The fell and tall man from Khand roars in fury as Brev\'s spear is driven in his knee. Falling to the good one left, he breathes heavily, providing yet another pause to the spearman. His comrade, the one struck in the hip earlier, does not grant him this relief, though, and takes a wild swing again.

Variag Bezerkers close in on Brev to do him harm.

...and you parry its attack with your Spear!

[Barlin(#26904)]

Irin grunts as the massive war hammer crashed into the ground, forcing an eruption of tile and stone which billows upwards but the dust clouds his vision, and the big man lifts a hand to his face, coughing. And so, he does not see the Easterling manoeuvre, less the blade which darts out and opens up his thigh with ease. But he gives a cry of rage as it does, and he swings around, lifting the other foot to swing a violent kick towards his nemesis, the power of which could stop a charging oliphant in its tracks.

[Fenn(#19652)]

Simultaneous with the blow of the horseman, those Easterlings who angled about the Knight of the Black Arrow rush in to land easy strikes for now, as much of the High Guard\'s cavalry is repelled before their eyes, even Rhun\'s veterans are compelled carelessly forward by the glimpse of a seeming quick advantage.

And to their folly: a great number are dispatched at Barlin\'s hacking, collapsing to death\'s squealing throes. Whether of terror and dread, or to avenge their fallen brothers, the few remaining soldiers of the East bulge inwards to take what life they may.

Easterling Forces lashes at Barlin with their jagged swords.

Easterling Forces severely wounds him!

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

The boot of the Karath Lord connects with the stomach of Zokhyn, and the smaller man, while fierce, is not one to shrug off such a blow staggering back a couple of paces the Easterling falls to once knee and clutches at his midriff. But ever does the fire of blood-lust burn in his dark eyes, and though he is stunned, he is not uet conquered.

Zokhyn spits then up towards Irin\'s eyes, and taunts his closer with a beckoning hand...

Brev\'s grunt of encouragement as his spear-tip strikes home, if lightly, is lost in the general hubbub of ringing metal, thudding wood and piercing cries of pain. The passage of air on the side of his face is enough warning of the new attack time enough to lift the spear up to parry. This time the shock of the two weapons meeting sends Brev a couple of steps back - too far to finish what he\'s started with the kneeling man. Instead he simply lets the spear-tip slide down the axe-haft of his attacker and jab at the armpit beneath. \"One over there ... for finishing ...\" he gasps out to anyone else unoccupied in the vicinity (unlikely there are many of those). He\'s tiring - most of the men are tiring now.

You attack Variag Bezerkers with your Spear...

Your attack against Variag Bezerkers severely wounds it!

[Barlin(#26904)]

Barlin growls his adversity as he opens the neck of one enemy, and then again as he smashes the skull of another with shield but he is swamped by the vengeful swarm, and swiftly, blades sting out in reply from all sides. He sways around the lethal reach of one, deflects another, and then falls prey to a biting blow to the shoulder. Stumbling back, he lifts his blade to retaliate when a spear slips around his guard it sinks into his side, barely slowed by the torn mail rings. The Lord of Karath gives an empty gasp, sinking to his knees.

But even still, there is fight lift in him. His bulging eyes locking on the spearman, he grasps at the retreating pole-arm, attempting to reel the warrior in and impale him on his longsword...

Easterling Forces collapses to the ground, defeated by Barlin!

The warriors of Rhun are finally conquered, slain by Barlin

[Refson(#23955)]

Though the Girion sword does not quite reach Zaius heart, it does however do considerable damage in its attempt, as it penetrates the man\'s chest between two ribs. Immediately, the beastly man staggers back, suddenly breathing heavily. Blood gurgles in his throat, and his brow bears a deep frown in clear pain. A moment\'s pause is taken , as the giant attempts to catch his breath. One arm still hangs useless at his side, the other bears the massive hammer, that now rests momentarily upon the bloody soil.

[Barlin(#26904)]

\" I am coming, dog...\" Irin spits, approaching the Easterling Chieftain with a savage grin. With one thudding footstep, and then another, the huge man approached, until he looms over his foe, his colossal frame throwing those nearby into shadow. He hefts the axe, peering down at his foe... And then a glob of spit connects with his eye, and he curses, stepping back and blinking...

[Fenn(#19652)]

So falls Barlin\'s bane, skewered even as he would skewer. A gurgle comes from him, its crimson echoed by the excited horns that cry immediately at the Easterling horde\'s lesser center: these men now rout and those who would stay are either dead or dying.

Rhun has been defeated by the valiant men of Dale.

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

And with a grunt of effort, Lorthrain wrenches free his blade from Zaius\' chest, sweating now from his labours, though no words of conquest nor taunt pass his lips. A cold steel is found in his eyes to match that in his palm, and with a cry of wrath he drops his shield to lash his sword two-handed out in a bid to behead his foe once amd for all.

Lorthrain attacks Variag Bezerkers with his Longsword and terribly wounds it!

[Refson(#23955)]

And finish him he does. Brev\'s jab slices through flesh as it enters the Variag\'s armpit sideways and reaches those vital organs that are protected by a man\'s chest. Mortally wounded, the hulking figure falls back, his mouth opened in a silent scream. The giant\'s companion, still on his good knee, rises and staggers forward, swinging his double-bladed weapon in an erratic arc at Brev.

Variag Bezerkers close in on Brev to do him harm.

...and it misses!

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

Even as the Men of Rhun begin to fall back and rout their way through the southern gate, Zokhyn is not yet conquered, and with a snarl he looks from the retreat to Irin with a cold wrath in his gaze. Springing forward, just as the Karath lord teeters, his blade slice forth in a bid to drive straight through his sternum.

[Barlin(#26904)]

It was said that the Wyrm Smaug wore a breastplate of solid gold as strong as Dwarven steel, and as beautiful as all the crafts of elven kinds, it protected the monster from the wrath of its many foes. As it spilled its fire onto the town of the Lake-folk, though, a lone bowman named Bard found its weakness a single hole, through which a black arrow could slip. And so his bow sang, and the Dragon came tumbling down, doused in the cold water of the Long Lake. The mighty beast had been felled by a single, well-aimed strike.

History has an ironic habit of repeating itself. And so as the colossus of Irin Karath, legendary warrior and Master of his House, stumbles back, Zokhyn\'s blade finds the single weak spot of his armour a broken ring, hovering over his sternum. The big man\'s eyes open, and he sees it coming but he can do nothing. With a gentle hiss, the blade slides through his coat of mail, through the protective leather beneath, and plunges deep into the flesh of his chest, where it finds the throbbing muscle of his heart.

A single gasp escapes his lips, and his dark eyes widen the Karath fire that burns in their deep recesses flickers, smoulders, and then splutters out. The war hammer clatters to the ground. The big man teeters, and then his legs give way and he falls, landing flat on his back with his arms outstreched.

And that was the end of Irin Karath.

[Barlin(#26904)]

\" No! Father! FATHER!\"

With a mighty leap, Bernar Karath clears several metres and lands, both feet planted beside the body of his fallen sire. His face contorted in an expression of rage and grief, he lifts his greatsword and with a huge, swinging strike, he bring it arcing around, attempting to decapitate his father\'s murderer with a single blow.

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

And the head of Zokhyn can withstand no more lopped off in one strike by the swing of Bernar of Karath. Down his body tumbles, his gore staiing both the ground and the body of Irin beside him as the last of the Easterling commanders is finally vanquished.

The day has been won, for true, but the cost has been great indeed.

[Refson(#23955)]

Even though the Girion commander does not quite manage to seperate Zaius head from his thick neck, the result is all the same. Still breathing heavily in an attempt to recover from Lorthrain previous blow, the Variag is defenseless as the Northern steel sears to its target and slices open his throat determinedly. In shock, the burly man falls to his knees, and releases his heavy hammer. His gaze remains upon his opponent -- his opponent whom he fought so long and yet did not manage to strike once -- a moment\'s longer, before his eyes grow dim and he falls to his side. Death has come to claim yet another in this bloodstained town.

Indeed, at long last, the Easterling ranks are wavering and breaking, what\'s left of them turning and fleeing with all haste. Defeat is clear. Of the Variag men, only a few are left, yet those that are fight to the very end.

Brev jerks his spear out of the Variag\'s armpit, twisting viciously as he does, then has to duck again as another axe comes whistling his way this time the motion is accompanied by a hiss of pain. And then the horns sound from the Easterling centre. A moment of confused silence, and then one of the Dale-men takes up the cry. \"The Easterlings are retreating!\" All around, there is a surge forward as battle lines that had formerly been drawn taut suddenly dissolve.

With fresh determination, and lips pressed firmly taut, Brev drives the spear toward the staggering Variag\'s groin region. A low blow to end a low fight.

[Erdena(#20421)] From an outsider\'s point of view, one may\'ve noticed that during this battle, one notable Karath had been...missing? No, surely that\'s not it. Look closely, there, towards the rear of the Dalemen\'s forces. Her helmet is a bit askew and what looks like tuffs of cloth peek out from under her armor, but there she is just the same. Rage paints her cheeks red as she advances, teeth bared menancingly as sword sings it\'s song of death through the air. It seems as if Corporal Erdena was indeed on the war path.

[Barlin(#26904)]

Barlin Karath\'s vision, although rinsed with crimson, remains clear enough to see the success of his final thrust the impaled Easterling slumps forward, spluttering desperately as blood pours from his mouth, frothing in the corners. He gives a choke, and then a cough before, finally, he dies. The old knight, body hacked and torn, draws his blade from the young man\'s abdomen, leaving a gaping hole behind. The dead warrior falls to the side.

Breathing heavily as the chaos slowly draws to a grinding close around him, Barlin does not raise himself from his knees rather, he cannot. Instead, he peers down at the slain warrior\'s face and sees the cold, dead eyes of a young man, gazing lifelessly back up at him. In the corners of those eyes are little droplets of salty water tears, formed in his dying moments.

The old man gives a sigh, and then closes his eyes. He slumps forward, unconscious.

[Refson(#23955)]

Brev\'s opponent had better taken heed of the retreat of his allies, maybe then the burly man would have lived to see yet another day. Unfortunately, luck, it seems, does not favour the Easterling army on this grim day. Again, the man\'s axe brushes past the spearman, sailing past without doing harm. Obviously, this again gives Brev a wide opening to strike, and as the spear is driven into the Variag\'s groin area, it slices through the main arteries there. Blood gushes out of the man\'s body, as he slumps aside and releases his fearsome axe. In terror, he attempts to hold close the gaping wounds, but to no avail: life flows out of him together with his blood. Another victim, claimed by the tip of Brev\'s spear.

With that, the last of the beastly Variags has fallen. They will surely rue the day they violated the borders of the Barding Kingdom...

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

As the Easterling rout is complete, Lorthrain for his part sinks to one knee no longer hiding the fatigue in his limbs as the Barding soldiers take the field for their own. Long moments pass by with the Girion lord catching his breath, until at length he rises anew, and high into the rain-swept sky he finally raises his sword in victory. A cry of triumph is taken up by the soldiers of King Brand, and the hornd of Dale blow wildly to signal the end of the melee.

Easterling corpses mingle their blood with fallen Northmen, though many downed from either side yet live. As the Bardings go about the business of retrieving their wounded, those men of Rhun whose injuries seem not fatal are bound and ferried away also doubtless for interrogation later. But for those to whom death would come as a blessed relief, the steel of Dale plunges down releasing them from this mortal coil to whatever realm lies beyond.

And Lorthrain, moving now with a limp from his labours, strides toward the fallen figure of Barlin a grim glare settled into his gaze.

Brev pulls a face as the Variag\'s blood splashes on him, but no more than that. Businesslike he jerks the spear free, bending to wipe it clean on the leather kilt of one of the other fallen Variags, then joins those looking for wounded. /He/ doesn\'t bother to speed the passage of the Rhunnish fallen, though once he bends to jerk his dagger across the throat of a young Dale-lander lying horribly twisted, murmuring a few words in his own tongue as he does. The softening of his gaze looks almost like pity - or maybe he\'s just tired. It\'s been a long day.

[Erdena(#20421)] The day is won for the men of Dale, and perhaps, it is a good thing to for our corporal. She makes her way through the bodies, her complexion is a little pale upon closer inspection. It looks as if she seems to be looking for something, or someone upon the battlefield. \"Blasted fool!\" A curse escapes her lips as she sheathes her sword, stopping to find Barlin lying on the ground. A strangled noise escapes her lips then, as she wipes the blood away from his brow before signalling for someone, anyone to help her carrying him back to camp.

[Barlin(#26904)]

Barlin is clinging onto consciousness, half-submerged in his own mind he feels a presence before him, and a familiar voice. Soft. A female\'s. His syes flicker open, just for a spell, and see two green eyes gazing back. Two green eyes.

\" Catelyn...\" He breathes softly, his lips barely moving, before his eyes close over once more. He slumps, but his chest continues to rise and fall.

Bernar tosses his sword away and falls to his knees, cradling his father\'s head on his lap. \" Father...\" He says quietly, tears brimming his eyes. Reaching out, he grasps his father\'s hand a faint heat remains in the palms, but it is quickly cooling.

[Lorthrain(#23381)]

And Lorthrain himself stands alone, as sergeants and corporals rush about organizing and establishing fortifications within the southern gate. The Easterlings have have been driven out into the plains, their yurts abandoned for whatever horses can bear them away, but it seems the men of Dale are talking no chances.

As the Girion lord makes his way about, he turns to gaze at the hils of the slain, ere he looks skyward. Rain washes away the gore and sweat, and he tugs away his helm to let his hair become slick in the downpour. Though as he looks back down to the hell surrounding him, it could be that the rainwater dripping from his features serves another purpose.

For who can see tears upon a rain-swept face?

[Erdena(#20421)] The name of her mother escapes her father\'s lips. She shakes her head again, as if in protest but Barlin\'s eyes close once more. \"Stupid man can\'t even remember my name.\" The woman speaks, to no one in particular. Her words were light though there was a bottomless sorrow that colored her words. After a time, men stop by, helping the Karath woman to her feet, before attempting to carry him away to the healing tents. \"Be gentle with him.\"