My heart has stepped up a gear, and a deep GRRRRRRR is beginning to growl softly deep inside.

Funny how battle rhythms recur, even when you are just reading and not actually going to battle.

Wow. This was one of the few times in a chapter of yours that the screenshots were actually a distraction for me because they pulled me out of your story and didn’t do justice to your descriptions.

Pappy returns to the TF in all of his grizzled, loveable glory. Julian’s cameo was handled expertly. All of the other Fighter’s Guild members were introduced and characterized in wonderful glowing detail. This promises to be quite a battle, one that more that lives up to the promise of the game. I, for one, can’t wait.

I like the hooks you've laid for the forthcoming battle, it will make it more convincing that the outnumbered force can prevail and shows that they know their strengths and intend to play to them. I can see the tenth being pivotal too... unless that's misdirection...

The change from the big picture to a small part is good, it offers both the epicness with personality to keep it real and immediate. Good writing And we get some new characters who I suspect won't have the best survival rate though I look forward to seeing more of those who do.

one nit:
it gleamed with barely concealed energy - did you mean concealed? Gleam seems a slightly odd choice if it is concealed (albeit barely).

haute ecole rider: You were not just speaking figuratively there...

The lesson on the daedra was a means for me to show some of the members of the Bravil FG and Arentus Falvius. It also has the added benefit of explaining some things to the readers that they will be seeing as the battle develops. As well as clarifying whether you need magical weapons to harm daedra. In Morrowind you do, in Oblivion you do not. The TF is sticking with Oblivion on this score.

If you liked that little cameo, you will enjoy the others yet to come ever more!


Verlox: Thank you V. I will be spending several segments (now there is an alliteration for you), just on character building of Pappy and the FG. Then... well, things will get ugly for them.


D.Foxy: I will take that grrrr as a vote of approval. Thank you DF.


Destri Melarg: Do you think I should remove the pictures? I know I am horrible on making male faces, a fact I have been lamenting with h.e.r. over PMs

Pappy does return, and makes his first appearance! Got to love how that works for us folks that were at the other forum. This chapter will explain the reason for much of Pappy's behaviour in the later chapters, especially the brutal entrance exam he gave Teresa and the intense training schedule for all his members.


Olen: Thank you Olen. That is not misdirection on the part of the Tenth at all. They are coming all the way from Vvardenfell, so had the longest road. That was originally mentioned in the chapter, but I had to take it out in a later edit due to feeling forced, like an infodump, rather than naturally flowing from conversation.

Nit addressed.


All: All battles start with the skirmishing, we now see this below. Pappy also has an unpleasant surprise waiting for him.


* * *

Chapter 10c - The Battle Of Bruma

Teresa flew lower, and saw that the wide space of grain fields and pastures between the two armies was not empty. Rather numerous mounted soldiers were scattered throughout the area with absolutely no organization or order. They all appeared to be Redguards, and wore leather armor adorned with short, brilliant red capes. They held round shields in the hands that gripped their reins, and were armed with a brace of javelins and sword.

Standing beside each rider was an archer on foot. They appeared to be Imperial, yet also wore leather armor rather than legion plate. Each held a longbow just like the one she used, and had a buckler and axe hanging from their belts. It only took Teresa a moment to recognize them as legion foresters, being accoutered exactly the same as Attius had been, and she imagined that he must be one of those men as she flew past overhead.

The archers were firing into the front ranks of the Daedric army, taking their time to make the most of each shot. Here and there clannfears slipped their chains, or were purposely loosed by their masters, and charged across the open space at the bowmen. Rather than stand and fight however, the nearby Redguards hauled the threatened foresters up behind their saddles and rode off to safety. In the meantime the advancing Daedra were shot by the archers still on foot to either side. When the clannfears wheeled to charge those in turn, the first archers dismounted once more and shot them in the back.

Slowly but surely the leading members of the Daedric army were thusly baited out into the open and slaughtered before Teresa's eyes. Finally with the deep rolling of drums, a line of dremora archers stepped through the ranks and stood before their army. Their arrows flew with deadly efficiency, and now it was the turn of many Imperials and Redguards to fall writhing and screaming between the rows of wheat.

The Imperial foresters seemed to panic then, racing toward the main line of legionaries either on foot or being given rides by nearby horsemen. Their flight quickly took them out of range of the Daedric bows, yet still they did not stop running. The dremora archers must have sensed an easy victory, for they eagerly rushed forward in pursuit.

They were halfway across the field when a series of trumpets rang out from the Imperial army. A moment later the steel-clad legionary cavalry on the far right of the army came trotting out in a long line, turning to the left to face the dremora archers as they did. So intent were they upon their prey, that the Daedric soldiers did not notice until the Imperials had reached a full gallop. By then their fate had been sealed, and the horsemen rode them down in a thunder of hooves and flashing lance-points. A few of the monsters stood their ground and fired at the oncoming horsemen. Most turned their backs and fled for their own lines however, and were speared down from behind.

Now the remnants of the first line of Daedra rushed forward, clannfears and dremora handlers alike. There was no sound of drums to order them as with the archers. They simply started forward in small groups at first, then gradually more and more followed in a disorderly wave until all were racing across the field.

The heavy cavalry wheeled and fled before them, heading for the line of Imperial legionaries. The Redguards carrying archers paused there to unload their passengers, while their compatriots continued on through the open lanes in the army to its rear. There the heavy horsemen rode around the back of the army to once more take up a position with the knights on the extreme right flank.

In the meantime foot soldiers wearing glittering mithril armor and carrying staves in their hands strode to the front of the line. Dazzling bolts of lightning sparked out across the fields as they advanced, burning the clannfears to smoldering heaps. The foresters added their arrows to the storm as well, turning the open field into a killing ground even deadlier than before.

* * *

"Alright Calva," Pappy said, squatting down beside an Imperial who sat with his back to a tree. The younger man wore bronze-colored Dwemer armor, and carried a mithril arming sword at his hip. "How many healing potions were you able to brew up for us last night?"

"I, um, wasn't able to make any more." The other Imperial's dark eyes darted back and forth like those of a wild rabbit. Pappy knew that look all too well, he had seen it on enough people cheating at cards, and he felt his blood grow hot. "I wasn't able to find any ingredients."

"No ingredients?" Pappy breathed, controlling his temper just in case he was wrong. Calva had only joined a week before, he thought, and had seemed an able enough hand, until now at least. "What about fatigue potions? We're probably going to be at it all day, and are going to need them to keep from wearing out."

"I couldn't find anything to make those either." Now the younger Imperial's eyes darted from one direction to another, as if looking for help, or an escape route.

"What the bloody Oblivion are you talking about!" Pappy finally exploded now, grabbing hold of the other man's gorget in one armored hand and shaking him. "You can make those with bread! or apples! You're paid extra to be our alchemist, you lying sack of guar dreck! What the blazes have you been doing?"

"I…" the other man stammered. Now a crowd of mercenaries was gathering around them, their eyes hard and features expressionless.

"He doesn't know a thing about brewing potions, does he?" Corentin growled. "I knew that fetcher was full of it!"

"Is that true?" Pappy had to fight to keep his voice from carrying. The Daedric army was nearby, he knew, and the last thing he wanted was to make enough of a racket to bring them down on their ears. He effortlessly lifted the armored man to his feet and leaned in so close that he could smell the garlic on the other man's breath. "Have you been lying all this time?"

"I found that first batch of potions in a ruin." Calva explained, eyes downcast. "I thought I could figure how to make more by now…"

"You sorry son of a guar." Pappy sighed, releasing the other man and looking away. He had been counting on Calva to keep them all supplied with potions during the fight. Now they would have to do with whatever they had on them. How many of them were not going to see another sunrise because of his misplaced trust?

The guild commander looked back at the Imperial, and the next thing he knew, his fist had buried itself in the young man's face. Blood erupted, and he felt the familiar crunch of a nose breaking under the orcish steel that wrapped his fingers.

"Get out of my sight," Pappy rumbled. "You're out of the guild as soon as this is over."

Pappy turned away, heart pounding like a smith's hammer. He knew that if he saw the other man's face for even a moment longer he would not be able to stop himself. Not here, he told himself, not when there were so many onlookers. He would settle up with Calva later, when no one else was around.

He made his way to the edge of the trees. Behind him he could hear several of the other guild members threatening Calva in low tones. Steel clashed against steel against as they added emphasis to the discussion.

Cacat! Pappy cursed himself, what have I done? Why on Nirn had he believed Calva?

Pappy was too lenient.

In my day, if any soldier under me had lied about his medical skill and was discovered only on the battlefield, he would have been shot - by the enemy, of course.

I'm not sure that Pappy was too lenient.

Now Calva has to not only worry about the Daedra army in front of him, but also the FG members in back of him (assuming he doesn't run from the battlefield first). To me, the anticipation is always worse than the reality.

This was great - a tremendous buildup of tension both on a large and a small scale.

I'm looking forward to more epicness!

A couple of nits, though:


This looks like a sentence fragment to me.

I think you meant the contraction of you are - you're instead.

Nice bit of characterisation there, it gives a better feel of Pappy and also offered a preview of the coming battle.

A short piece which I assume means the next one will be quite epic in scale and length... An exciting prospect...

Also all this development of these fighter's guild types makes me wonder about that tarot reading and the knight of swords...

Wow, I sure have missed alot. I love all of this new stuff you've been adding! The part with Jalbert in Vilverin was very nerve-wracking, and this part about the Battle of Bruma is just awesome! I love this new, improved version so much! Keep it up!

The first time I read Pappy’s name in the last chapter I remembered the scene in the previous version of the TF when he speaks of the losses sustained during this battle. It is nice to see the events dramatized so effectively here.

I have to say that I am with Foxy here. The anticipation and threat of punishment is all well and good for a simple gaffe or a screw-up. What Calva did is going to be paid for with the blood of how many men in the coming battle? And why did he do it? Greed . . . for a few lousy extra septims in his own purse! He hasn’t earned an honorable death at the hands of the enemy. Pappy should have spit him like a wild boar right then and there!

Nits:

QUOTE

There the heavy horsemen rode around the back of the army to once more take up a position with the knights on the extreme right of the army.

Here you have a slightly awkward repetition of the word ‘army’. Perhaps shortening it to read ‘the extreme right flank’ might help it flow a bit smoother.

Right on, Destri.

Crimes committed out of fear may be pardonable. Crimes committed out of Greed may be pardonable. But crimes committed out of Greed that lead to the death of many lives...AND especially the lives of those whom you solemly swore, in witnessed oath, to honour as your brothers whom you would give your life for, and whom would give theirs for you...

No. No pardon. Not from THIS man.

I'd have made sure he 'died in battle'.

D.Foxy: I had considered Pappy killing Calva then and there, but decided against it for several reasons. The most important one being that even he is not reckless enough to kill one of his own people in front of the Bruma primate, the vice-magister of the Mages Guild (who we will see in this next segment), and a group of Blades. That is the kind of thing he would only do quietly, with no one to know except perhaps a few guild members he could trust to keep their mouths shut. Ironically this is the same sort of thing that Arentus told the group to expect from the dremora.

What I find interesting is that no one has mentioned Pappy's own failings as a leader concerning Calva and the healing potions. It was one of the things the last segment was meant to point out. He had ample time to verify that Calva really was an alchemist, but never did so. Likewise, he had plenty of time to check in on him to make sure he was making the potions he was supposed to. He just took it all for granted, and now his chapter will likely suffer for that.


haute ecole rider: More character-building with the FG this installment. You are sure to like Pappy's conversation with the leader of the Blades...

Thank you for the observations, fixed.


Olen: Thank you Olen. We will see more of the FG this time out, rather than the main battle (I cannot help it, it is the estrogen in me). Keep looking for the Knight of Swords. Although in the distant future one or more of the people in the FG might be considered that. But that is a long way off.


Broken-Scale: Thank you scale.



Destri Melarg: One of the main reasons I went with Pappy as the pov character for the down-on-the-ground scenes was because of the later chapters with him. He will be heavily influenced by the events of this battle. It is a very rude awakening, to say the least.

Nit noted and fixed, thank you for spotting that.


* * *

Chapter 10d - The Battle Of Bruma

Across the field he could see the dremora were still pouring from half-a-dozen Oblivion Gates stretching across the plain. Yet there was still no sign of the Great Gate they were waiting for. He could see nothing beyond the backs of the Daedra, except for a cloud of dust rising into the sky. He imagined that the Cyrodiilic army was still making its way out of Bruma however. It took a long time to get an army out of camp and into fighting line after all.

"Are your people going to be ready for this sir?"

Pappy turned to see Julian of Anvil - The Hero of Kvatch - he reminded himself, standing beside him. He had not even heard her approach, and once again he cursed himself, this time for not paying attention.

"The Bravil guild will do their job," Pappy found himself growling. Closing his eyes, he paused, then looked back at the Redguard again. Don't take it out on her, he thought, none of it was her fault. When he spoke again, he made sure it was in a quieter, more reassuring tone.

"We'll be fine, don't worry. A lot of these guys are ex-legion. Paol was with me in the Sixth and the Eighth, Hirtuleius in the Tenth, J'sharr the Fourth. Akatosh's balls, Corentin was a tribune before he resigned. He's old nobility from High Rock. They're aren't spit and polish, but they're good fighters all."

"If you say so sir," The Redguard glanced back in the direction that Pappy had come from. Clearly she had witnessed the altercation. He could not blame her for having doubts.

"Stop calling me that," Pappy found himself breathing. "Neither one of us is Imperial Legion anymore. I'm just a hired sword now, and you're a spy."

"Old habits die hard sir," the woman shrugged. Then she rapped her knuckles against the golden laurel gilding the front of his legion breastplate. "Besides, I still remember that. Every one of us from the Sixth does. None of us would be here if not for what you did at Whiterun."

"I wasn't alone." Pappy looked back out across the fields of wheat at the Daedric army. "There were a lot of good soldiers there with me, and a lot fewer when it was over."

"But you held the city, in spite of the rebels outside, and inside, the walls. Not many leaders could have done that in a nine month siege. You did." Julian's gaze followed his own. "We'd have lost the entire province if not for you."

Was that just ancient history? the guild commander found himself wondering, or did he still have it in him? Well, he had damn well better, he thought, or they were all in for it.

"We'll get you to that Oblivion Gate, if they ever open the blasted thing, and hold it until you come back out with that Great Sigil Stone." Pappy found himself saying. "Believe me, nothing is going to get back through after you. Your back is safe with us."

"That's good to hear sir," Julian replied. "Not that I was really worried."

Then why did you ask in the first place? Pappy thought to himself. Looking into the face of the Redguard, he saw the answer. Just like a woman to give a man a pep-talk by making him do it for himself. Tadrose was the same way, he thought, all women were. Damn sneaky.

"You just watch that Arentus," Pappy cautioned, turning to look back into the small groups of warriors within the copse of trees. "I don't care if he is the best conjurer in Cyrodiil, he's trouble. He was the primus magus of the Tenth in Vvardenfell for nearly twenty years before he traded in his armor for a cassock. He's used to being top bull, and isn't going to take orders easy."

"I could say the same to you," the Redguard woman observed. "Raminus Polus is the right hand of the arch mage isn't he? The second man in the entire Mages Guild? Plus a patrician to boot."

"Oh, don't worry about the vice magister," Pappy felt a smile break from his lips as his eyes settled upon the mage.

With the dark hair and eyes of all Imperials, Polus' face barely showed any of his four decades. He wore a plain blue mage's robe, and carried a staff in one hand. Pappy saw Vincent Galien sitting across from the magister, listening intently to whatever it was the magician was saying. Barely old enough to join the guild, barely old enough to even shave, Pappy laughed to himself, the young Breton wore a suit of steel plate as shiny and new as that of Valerius. With any luck, both of them would still be alive at the end of all this.

"Raminus and I go way back," the guild commander continued. "I was a brand new hastatus posterior in the Larks here in Cyrodiil, and he was fresh out of the Arcane University doing a study on goblins. We had our… disagreements, but we came to an understanding. He leaves the soldiering to me, and I leave the magic to him. Since then we've gotten along just fine."

With that the soft sound of Hirtuleius' singing came to Pappy's ears. With a soothing, mellow tone, the man's voice was a pure joy to hear. For not the first time, the guild commander wondered why the Imperial had ever gone into the army, and later become a mercenary, when he could have spent his days living comfortably off his vocal chords.

"Our apprentice Thurindil may now refuse,
To wipe his scoundrel master's shoes.
For now he's free to sing and play,
Over the hills and far away.

Over the hills and over the main,
To Morrowind, Skyrim, and Illiac Bay.
Emperor Martin commands and we obey,
Over the hills and far away."

Pappy felt a smile crest his features as he drifted back deeper into the trees, where most of his guild were clustered around Hirtuleius. Julian hovered beside him in silence, and they all listened quietly until the grey-haired Imperial had finished the song. Then, as always, the grousing began.

"So how were we so lucky to get this job?" J'sharr asked, stretching his arms above his head. The red-furred Khajiit wore the slender, banded armor of elven design, and an axe and shield of the same work sat to either side of his lithe frame. "Are we finally getting some credit?"

"No," Tadrose Helas replied, running a finger along the edge of her long blade and casting an appraising eye along its slightly reddened surface. Pappy saw the elvish word Anganar written at the base of the blade. Or as the dark elf had once told him it meant in the common tongue: Forge. "Donton and Oreyn hate Gaius."

"Aye," Paol's voice rose in agreement. "Vilena Donton has had it in for Gaius since back in the days when he was the Guild Champion. And Oreyn, well, that bugger put more than one knife in Gaius' back to take his place. He's got his nose stuffed so far up Donton's backside that if she ever farts it'll clear his mind."

Pappy laughed, as did several others. "Oreyn's just jealous of my charm," he said. "Not to mention my artistic talent."

"I didn't know you were an artist?" Corentin looked up from a book that lay open in his lap.

"Only when it comes to getting young women out of their clothes," Tadrose observed dryly, now sheathing her long blade. The guild commander could not fail to note the slightly sardonic tint to her voice. Not barbed enough to be obvious to all, but just enough to let him know exactly what she thought of his numerous liaisons. "How was your night with the Countess by the way?"

"You know a gentleman never talks about that sort of thing." Pappy rose and found his pack among those piled up next to one of the trees. Unfastening the buckle that held its flap shut, he began digging through its contents.

"Yes, but what is stopping you?" J'sharr's voice came from behind him, along with a chorus of laughter.

Pappy could not restrain a chuckle himself. His steel-clad fingers set upon smooth glass, and he smiled again. Drawing forth a long, slender bottle, he pulled out its cork with his teeth and let the smoky amber liquid within slide down his throat. It felt warm on his tongue, and lit a welcome fire as it settled into his belly. Hot enough to calm the butterflies that always sprang up on the eve of a battle.

"Try this," he grinned, handing the bottle to Corentin, who happened to be nearest to where he now stood. "I got it from the castle wine cellar."

"This is four hundred year old flin!" the nobleman exclaimed, then took a long swig from the bottle. A look of contentment settled upon the Breton's face. "How did you get your hands on this?"

"Getting my hands on things I'm not supposed to is a finely-tuned talent of mine." Pappy admitted.

"Laugh all you want now," Pappy heard Njall say darkly from beyond the circle of fighters. Looking up, the guild commander saw the Nord walking past. His brilliant red hair was swept back from his face and hardened with lime. Wearing no armor, his nearly naked frame was decorated in tattoos of horses, dragons, and intricate knotwork symbols, all of which nearly glowed with a feeling of power in the dim light beneath the trees. He carried a battle-axe bearing a single long, downward sweeping blade of mithril at the top of its elongated oak haft. "You'll all rue your debauchery and intemperance when the day comes that you face the gods!"

"I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to facing Dibella when my turn comes!" J'sharr's fangs showed as he laughed. Then he took the bottle from Corentin and raised it in a toast to the dour fundamentalist. "Until then, down the hatch."

"Hey Pappy, the vice magister taught me how to cast a healing spell!" Vincent Galien proclaimed as he walked up with Raminus Polus in tow. Snatching up the bottle before Paol could take it from J'sharr, the youthful Breton took a long swallow of the flin. His face instantly turned red, and he nearly spat it out moment later. That brought a chorus of laughter from the assembled warriors, and a hearty slap on the back from Paol.

"Now there's a school teacher alright," Hirtuleius observed when things quieted down. "About to jump in the biggest battle in history we are, and he's giving lessons."

"I'd like to teach him a few lessons," Aissa said with a fiery look at the magician. For not the first time, Pappy wished he was not a guild commander as his eye lingered over the sultry young Redguard. But he had already been fired from his job as Champion for that, he thought sourly, or that was the excuse at least. No sense making it easy for Oreyn to take his chapter too.

"Oh ho! Watch out for that one Raminus!" J'sharr piped up. "She mates and she kills does the Black Widow!"

"That one just didn't have what it takes!" Aissa took the bottle of flin into her hands with a glimmer in her eyes. "I'm sure the mage here can… measure up."

"Leave the poor man alone, can't you see he's married?" Corentin said, pointing to the white-gold ring on Polus' left hand.

"That's right, I am," Raminus smiled, twisting the ring with finger and thumb, "and in spite of Aissa's most impressive attributes, I intend to remain quite happily that way."

"The magister speaks with wisdom," Morning-Star now stirred himself. The rust-scaled Argonian opened a small keepsake and looked at the portraits within. Like many of the other mercenaries, he wore a suit of elven armor. Unlike them however, a curved Akaviri blade hung at his hip. "Only a fool chases tails when there are warm scales waiting in his nest."

Raminus stepped over to the Argonian and looked down at the locket when the other man held it up. "Is that your family?"

"Indeed," Morning-Star said, making no effort to conceal the pride in his harsh, almost hissing voice. He pointed to a green-scaled Argonian woman on the left, who possessed a line of bony spines adorning either side of her head. "This one is Morning-Star's mate, Hides-In-The-Clouds. A finer swimmer one has never seen." Then he motioned to a male Argonian on the right, who had the same colors that he did, only brighter. "That is Storm-Tail, this one's son. That one was born during a lightning storm, and was so eager to get out of his egg that this one's mate said there must be a storm inside of it as well."

"You are a lucky man Morning-Star." Raminus, laying a friendly hand on the fighter's shoulder. "My Cornelia and I have not been blessed with children, yet at least."

"How old is that tadpole of yours 'Star?" Hirtuleius asked as the bottle came to him. "I haven't seen him in years it seems, ever since you sent him off to that school in the Imp City."

"He has just seen his nineteenth wet season." Morning-Star explained. "His instructors say he is gifted in mathematics. He must get that from his mother, for this one cannot count to eleven without help from his tail!"


Notes: Over The Hills And Far Away is a traditional English song, modified to fit the ES universe.

I'd say the "alchemist" is amongst the "calculated losses" hehe.
I quote from expendable heroes:" Back to the front!"

Then why did you ask in the first place? Pappy thought to himself. Looking into the face of the Redguard, he saw the answer. Just like a woman to give a man a pep-talk by making him do it for himself. Tadrose was the same way, he thought, all women were. Damn sneaky.


QUOTED FOR TRUTH

And if I recall correctly, something many old-time USMC NCO's were proud of, especially when posted alongside Army units. Not sure if that's still the case.

Good prelude to the battle. No, I think death at the hands of his fellow FG members is the more likely fate for Calva. I will wait to see if that is what happens next.

Alas, it seems that you did not see the subtle innendo in " Just like a woman...making a man do it for himself"...

You are slipping, nautee hautee!!!

I did have a comment, then what passes for internet in the backwater I'm stuck in died.

So rather less eloquently: I like it. Good depth of character there, enough background to make them individual and so when it all goes wrong you'll be able to evoke emotion in the reader. I also enjoyed the hinted tension between magic and fighting soldiers.


Brilliant, more bringing the setting alive by showing how different things are for argonians. Sufficently wierd saying to be awarded the random viking too

More? Please?

Pappy is a man of many parts. In addition to being a good soldier, a respected Guild honcho, and something of a player with the ladies we now discover that he is a leader worth his weight in gold, and a world class dog-robber to boot. That flin probably adorned General Talos’ table, once upon a time.

I am trying not to become too attached to all of the great characters that are being presented, because I know that not all of them will be leaving the Jerall Mountains. The problem is that you are making that extremely hard to do.

Well done Sub Rosa!

Regarding how Pappy handled the fake alchemist, you did a wonderful job. You are the author here, and your choices are built upon a solid foundation.

I thoroughly loved the interaction between Pappy and Julian. It is difficult to write for someone else's character, but you beautifully reflected a sensitive wisdom that is our endearing Julian.

Remko: We will just have to wait and see what happens to Calva. Things certainly do not look good for him though...


D.Foxy: Sneaky and proud of it! We do not have to make you men do it yourselves though. You guys seem quite glad to take the initiative on that score.


haute ecole ouroboros: Thank you h.e.o. Between trading and outright stealing, Pappy has a knack for getting whatever he and his people need. One of the things the t.v. series inspired.


Olen: You have skewered my intentions exactly. All of these characterization scenes with the Bravil FG have been a setup to make the costs of this battle feel very real. Thank you about Morning-Star's comment. I worked quite a bit to come up with that one.


Destri Melarg: Does this mean we will be seeing the flin negotiations in Interregnum, in which somehow the bottle never gets opened?


Acadian: Thank you Acadian. Naturally I ran the scene by h.e.o. and got some insight from her before posting it.


All: Now back to the battle

* * *

Chapter 10e - The Battle Of Bruma

From her position high in the air above, Teresa saw that few of the charging clannfears reached the Imperial line. Those that did found islands of steel-clad humans waiting for them. The forester was reminded of a wave striking a rocky shore, the water rushing up with tremendous fury, yet simply evaporating upon contact with the immovable stone.

Teresa's heart leaped within her feathered chest. The first two lines of the Daedric army had been utterly annihilated, and the Imperial army had barely yet begun to fight! For the first time since seeing the Daedric host, she began to think that the humans might actually win.

That is when a deep, rumbling sound came to her ears. Winging to the east, where the noise was loudest, Teresa discovered that two huge black pillars of stone were rising from the wheat. Curved inward like a pair of monstrous fangs, the two prongs of ugly rock crawled up to nearly fifty feet in the sky before stopping.

Then with a sound that was half-shriek, half whoosh of flame, a bright field of red and orange energy sprang up between the two obsidian columns. Fire erupted from the edges of the pillars, quickly creating a pall of oily black smoke that desecrated the blue sky above. Almost as soon as it had formed, rank after rank of dremora came marching from within the gigantic gateway, adding their numbers to the already swollen Daedric host.

Several minutes later, a series of trumpet blasts erupted from the Imperial army. As one, the ranks of legionaries stepped forward, like a single, gigantic creature made of steel. The sound of thunder came to her ears. Yet not from above, but from below, as the legionaries began beating their swords against the iron rims of their shields. Through the terrific din she could hear shouts as well. "Kvatch! Kvatch!"

A series of deep-throated drumbeats echoed from the opposite side of the field, and the next line of the Daedric army moved forward as well. Daedroth, scamps, atronachs, and their dremora overseers alike. They marched not in the perfectly spaced formations of the Imperials, but rather in a mob of loose knots.

Halfway there the Imperial army stopped at another blare of trumpets. Now the archers and light cavalry flowed back through the large gaps in the line. The Redguards rode through the rear of the army and eventually took up positions behind their heavier brethren on the far right. The archers formed lines and began firing in high arcs, so their arrows flew over the heads of their own soldiers, but fell almost directly down upon the oncoming Daedra.

Then finally, as Teresa had imagined they might, the trailing half of each block of infantrymen stepped first to the left, and then forward into the gaps between units, creating a solid line of swords and shields. There they waited, still beating the flats of their blades against their shields and shouting at the monsters approaching them.

Soon bolts of fire and lightning began to erupt from the advancing line of Daedra. They were answered with the same from the mages within the Imperial ranks. Here and there Teresa saw legionaries in the front ranks stagger or fall, only to be carried back to the rear of the formations. There those that could began raising their hands in the air in a familiar gesture that was followed by a disc of white light descending around them. A healing spell, Teresa thought, just like the one she knew. Those that could not do so themselves, were healed by folk wearing the cassocks of priests and priestesses.

Teresa saw no such aid or comfort from the mages in the Daedric ranks. Instead they either flung their magical attacks into the ranks of Imperials, or in some cases into the monsters which they herded, as if to spur them on to action. The Daedra were falling in large numbers by the time they came near to the Imperial lines, many of the larger ones such as the daedroth bristling with numerous arrows. The Imperial army on the other hand remained steadfast, fresh men stepping forward to replace the fallen, and the wounded being healed and retaking their places in the line behind them.

On the far right, the legion cavalry and knights spurred their horses forward in a charge. Fire and lightning struck many, but the heavily armored warriors simply shrugged off the blows and continued on. Lowering their lances as they drew near, they smashed into the ragged lines of Daedra in front of them with a thunderous crash. Impaled by long spears, or bowled over by the armored breasts of great warhorses, the denizens of Oblivion were shattered beneath an avalanche of steel.

Then the line of foot soldiers charged as well, and the fearful work of swords began. The air was filled with a din of metal striking metal, screams of anguish, and cries of victory. The great daedroth bowled over two or even three soldiers at a time with their huge, clawed arms and spiked tails. Yet the legionaries rose and retreated to heal themselves, while fresh troops closed in and struck the behemoths down from all sides. Scamps threw their firebolts at point blank range, only to be cut down by Imperials moments later. Atronachs and spider daedra fell in the same manner, simply overwhelmed by the massed Imperial soldiers.

Teresa saw that while the Daedra fought separately, the Imperials stood together in a single, solid wall that stretched across the plain. While some men might go down or fall back through the line, the formations they were a part of never wavered themselves. They always held solid, with legionaries remaining in columns stretching from the front of the line to the rear, either fighting themselves, or patiently waiting their turn to step into action.

This must be how the Imperials conquered all of Tamriel, Teresa marveled from her vantage point in the sky above. They simply wore their enemies out through teamwork and endurance.

The fighting was over first on the right, at the leading edge of the army. Yet the city guardsmen of Bruma on the far left had yet to even close with the oncoming creatures. Now Teresa understood the reason for the diagonal formation. It kept the weakest troops, the city guardsmen, out of battle as long as possible.

Yet she could see that most of the Daedric host still had yet to engage. As if prompted into action by her thoughts, another series of drumbeats rose into the Bruma sky. With that the long ranks of dremora soldiers finally stepped forward, standards of bones and flayed skin swaying in the air over their horned visages.

Cavalry charge before the infantry step up?



Hmmm....I would most definitely NOT have done that. But perhaps all will become clear in the next post...

One comment: in a cavalry charge it is of critical importance that the entire line strikes at the same moment. This is why in a classic cavalry charge, you will see the horses languidly trotting up about fifty yards from the enemy, at a slow pace which enables the entire line to move forward as one, and then at a trumpet signal the entire line will move up into a gallop. If properly timed the horses will reach top speed just as the lances strike the enemy line. Furthermore, the horses must be close, very close together - almost knee to knee.

Additionally, unless you mean the charge to be a decisive, battle-ending charge, the leader of the charge must NOT be in the front rank, but behind a bit so that he can judge the right moment to call back the charge after the initial damage has been done.

The reason is that the shock of the cavalry charge breaks up the ranks, and cavalry in loose formation are EXTREMELY vulnerable to a counter-charge by a cohesive group of enemy cavalry.

History abounds with examples of tens of thousands of horsemen being routed by two or three thousand horsemen who were in compact formation. Individually the Persians were the best horsemen on the earth, but they simply did not know how to ride together in a group. And that was how Alexander's cavalry destroyed far greater numbers of Persian Cavalry.

Well, the cavalry on the right have three options.

1- They can stand there and let the Daedra attack them, which is the absolutely worst thing cavalry can do, since they are an offensive arm, not a defensive one.

2 - They can retreat (either straight back or to the right) and allow the Daedra to envelop the infantry on the right. They might try a counter-charge afterward, and just hope they land it before the infantry collapses.

3 - They can attack the Daedra in the open, before their own dremora infantry can come into action. The Daedra have no cavalry, so there is no danger of a counter-charge by enemy horsemen. In fact, it is the Daedra's nearest approximation to cavalry (in that they are the fastest moving) that the legion horsemen are attacking.

Unless you are referring to the Daedra sending their faster creatures on a headlong charge against the Imperial line? They have not fought in a pitched battle since the days of Alessia, and are more than little rusty. Much like the Gauls, their basic tactic is simply to overwhelm the enemy with a big charge. Unlike the Gauls however, they have good armor and staying power.

They have an entirely different strategy than the human army, relying simply on massive wave attacks to first wear down, and then finally overcome the human army. The dremora commander is quite happy to waste the clannfears and other beast-Daedra in such a fashion. He will eventually get them back when they respawn in Oblivion, and they will leave his dremora in the position to deliver the killing blow and take all the glory from victory.

Well written. I liked returning to the overview for the main battle, since it's so hard for a single man (i.e. Pappy) to see the entire thing from the ground. At the front, it's just chaos for the grunts.

I have learned a great deal through reading both the chapter and the discussion of cavalry tactics that followed it. I agree with haute that returning to the ‘bird’s eye’ view of the battle was a great choice. Everything was so well described, from the crashing of that first wave of clanfear (or would that be clanfears?) to the final horn that prompted the bulk of the Daedric host to engage. I especially liked the description of the priests healing injured soldiers under a cloud of white magic, and those soldiers retaking their places on the line.

The only suggestion I would make is to be sure that Teresa doesn’t become too removed from events while in raven form. You once told me that you felt no visceral pain from Arnand when he was stabbed by the pirate. Allow me to return the favor by pointing out to you that, with all the steel and daedric weapons flying around, we don’t hear the screams of the wounded and the dying. In raven form Teresa should be able to smell the blood and the loosened bowels and bladders of the men fighting for their lives.

Oh you've got my mind racing now! Be on the lookout for an unopened bottle of flin in the future!

Woo the battle. I can't comment on tactics as I know more or less nothing about medieval tactics (on that scale anyway). The daedric strategy of the mass charge is good though and makes the eventual outcome (at least the one I expect) believable as history shows that it doesn't always work .

While I agree with Destri that Teresa feels detatched from the battle I see it as less of a problem, you ahve pappy for the gritty sweat and blood stuff and seeing as Teresa is having a vision as a raven at the moment it doesn't strike me as incongrous that she is a bit detached.

And the healing spells, makes sense I suppose, though I'd have considered having the priests higher up raining 'on target' spells, at least those who could aim

haute ecole ouroboros: Thank you h.e.o.


Destri Melarg: Maybe tribeepanic is the plural for clannfear? Civil Organizational Unit Apprehension? I suspect that the collective term for them would be a Fright.

Good observation on the sounds. Once I have time I will go back and work that in.


Olen: Thank you O. You know, I never really think of using targeted healing spells. The trouble in the game is people always move and your spell is wasted when it misses. I often have trouble using a touch healing spell on others. IRL it would not be so bad, but there would still be a lot of jostling in the ranks, and the backs of many other soldiers in the way, so I think touch spells would probably still be preferred. If for no other reason they cost less magicka, and thusly allow you to cast them more often.


all: We return to Pappy's down-to-Nirn pov.


* * *

Chapter 10f - The Battle Of Bruma

The sound of steel crashing through branches caused Pappy to jerk his head up, one hand reflexively falling to the hilt of his Atmoran blade. He saw Seridwe hurtling down the trunk of the tree upon which she had been perched. She moved quickly and recklessly, abandoning any pretense at grace or precision. That was not a good sign, Pappy thought as she finally dropped to the dirt below, her once painstakingly-arranged hair now tangled with pine needles. No, that was not good at all.

"The foreplay's over," she breathed, one hand feeling at the ruin of her golden tresses. "They've opened the Great Gate!"

With those words the butterflies in Pappy's stomach turned into a full-grown bull netches. Where in Oblivion was that flin? he found himself wondering. Shaking his head, he turned to the other men and women.

"Alright people, arm and armor!" he barked in a voice loud enough to be heard throughout the entire grove of trees. He just hoped it would not be heard any farther as he unfastened the strap of his helmet, then lifted it from where it hung at his waist and settled it around his head. "Time to earn our pay. Everybody form up at the edge of the trees. Fighters Guild in the lead, Blades in the rear. Let's move like we got a purpose people!"

He strode through the confusion to his pack, lifting a belt of potion-filled pouches, he settled it around his waist over the leather strap that held his sword and dagger. A pair of water skins came next, then finally he lifted his round orcish shield into his left hand and a handful of stakes into his right. Around him mercenaries and Blades were doing the same in a vortex of confusion. Yet somehow the insanity was all organized, everyone knowing exactly what they were doing, and moving with practiced ease.

As ever, Tadrose was at the edge of the trees before him, her head now sheathed in an eagle-crowned helm, and a brace of wooden stakes laid out on the ground before her. She paid him no mind, staring out across the field instead. Pappy followed her gaze, and could not miss the fiery blaze of the Great Gate looming high above the now scorched and blasted fields of wheat underfoot.

"Cacat!" he cursed, and did not realize it had been aloud until the dark elf finally did turn her head to look at him. The Daedric army was still drawn up in front of the gate, and more and more of their soldiers were issuing from the inferno of its surface. There was no way they would ever get close to that! he knew. Where in the bloody blazes was Phillida and the army?

Now the rest of his people began to file into line to either side of him and his lieutenant. He could hear their groans and curses as they too saw what he did.

"Looks like we still have a bit of a wait folks," Tadrose put it simply, her voice betraying neither irritation or worry. "Let's take the time and everyone check the gear of the one next to them. No loose straps, no worn buckles. Anyone has a problem let me know, I'll fix or replace it if I can. Make sure you have plenty of water and your stakes too."

With that the dark elf set the example by silently inspecting Pappy's armor from head to toe. She might just as well be back in the guildhall kitting out a new member with their first suit of armor. She should have her own chapter, he found himself thinking, if Oreyn and Donton would ever give her one after being with him for so long.

Pappy and many of the others looked up as the noise intensified across the field. He could not see a thing through the armored backs of the assembled dremora and the smoke of the blazing gateways. Yet he could tell something was going on beyond them. There was a low thunder, like a storm was coming, only it went on without pause, and here and there he could see flashes of brilliant light erupting in the dust somewhere beyond the enemy host.

"That's the battlemages," he heard Corentin mutter.

"Now they're getting into it," Hirtuleius added.

The Daedra finally stopped issuing from the Great Gate and the smaller ones across the plain to either side of it. The guild commander could not believe the size of the army stretching out before his eyes, going for at least a mile in either direction. Not in two decades of soldiering had he ever seen an army like that. It seemed as if all of Oblivion had disgorged itself upon the Bruma plateau. How on Nirn were they going to defeat that?

Looking at his people to either side, he could see that they were thinking the same thing. He could not let that happen, he knew. If they doubted, they would break. So he moved among them, putting a hand on a shoulder here, whispering a word of encouragement into an ear there. He even gave healing potions to those without, until he had none remaining for himself. They were his people, and he would make damn well sure they knew that they would be alright. Even if he knew it was a lie.

"How you doing son?" Pappy bent down to next to Valerius. The young Imperial raised his pensive gaze from the dremora across the field, and the guild commander could see the fear deep in his dark eyes.

"There sure are a lot of them Pappy…" Valerius swallowed hard.

"Don't worry kid," Pappy said, laying a hand on the young man's steel-clad shoulder. "It's the men on the other side of the field there that have to do that. They've got a whole army to fight. The truth is we've got the easy part. Just some rear area layabouts that probably haven't picked up a sword in a thousand years. You stay close by me and you'll be fine. Just remember what I taught you. Keep your shield up, use the point, and watch your balance."

"Gaius, you have a minute?" Paol Lirrene leaned in to say quietly to Pappy. Pausing only to give the youngster a smile, the guild commander turned to walk off to the edge of the group with the middle-aged Breton.

"What's on your mind Paol?" Pappy asked, not liking the way the other man's brown eyes would not meet his own.

"I've got a bad feeling about this Pappy," the Breton said, still looking away.

"Don't start with that dreck Paol," Pappy could not restrain the low growl that rumbled loose from within his gut. "We've been through worse than this. Remember Whiterun?"

"There weren't no fetching Daedra at Whiterun!" Paol moaned, and now Pappy could hear the tremor in the veteran soldier's voice. "Have you looked out there? That's all of Oblivion waiting for us!"

"Shut your damn mouth!" Pappy hissed. He stepped in close to the taller Breton and kept his voice low with an effort. "You're a veteran. Those kids over there look to you to see how to act! Get your dreck wired tight, 'cause I'm not going to let you scare 'em so silly they can't fight!"

"How are we supposed to fight that!" Paol declared, sweeping his hand out at the Daedric army. "This is a suicide mission, and you know it!"

Pappy stepped back a moment, looking the other man up and down. Then without warning he backhanded the Breton across the face with his gauntleted fist, drawing a gout of blood from the corner of Paol's mouth.

Now the rest of the mercenaries and Blades turned their eyes on the pair. The guild commander waited as Paol wiped his mouth and looked down at the red liquid that stained his gauntlet. Something in the Breton's eyes snapped then, and a moment later he was on top of the Imperial, pummeling away with his fists.

Pappy fended off the other man's blows with difficulty, thankful for the heavy armor he wore. Before long the rest of the guild members, led by Tadrose, swarmed around the two and pulled them apart.

"You still got that feeling?" Pappy grinned as he looked across the knot of mercenaries at Paol.

"No you dirty fetcher!" his old friend now laughed through teeth reddened with blood. "Not at all!"

"And here I thought it was only women you couldn't keep your hands off of," Tadrose said dryly as she looked at Pappy. That brought a series of low chuckles and wan smiles from the other fighters, and the guild commander found he could not restrain one himself. "While you two have been playing, the dremora have been on the move. It's time for us to go."

All eyes turned to the open field before them, including Pappy's. He saw that Tadrose was right, as she always was. The Daedric army had finally stirred itself, and was now marching away from them, leaving the Oblivion Gates nearly unguarded behind them.

You show the prebattle tension well among the men through their actions and the dialogue. Again it brings the men alive which will make their coming deaths (at least for some I expect) meaningful to the reader. It also enhances the epic parts by showing what's going on in one place.


Great lore-friendly line.

My only nit would be that I'd like to see more of Pappy's own thoughts, though that's more a matter of personal taste.

Oh man, like O said, the pre-battle tension was palpable! I could reach out and poke it with a finger (or two)!

No nits this time, just sheer enjoyment of an engrossing segment!

"And here I thought it was only women you couldn't keep your hands off of," Tadrose said dryly as she looked at Pappy. That brought a series of low chuckles and wan smiles from the other fighters, and the guild commander found he could not restrain one himself. "While you two have been playing, the dremora have been on the move. It's time for us to go."

That is how veteran soldiers shake off pre-battle tension- with a wisecrack or three.

Excellenct characterization.

Olen: Thank you Olen. Worked for the netch reference. One of the disappointing things about Oblivion was that it did not have a whole slew of new animals like Morrowind did, with its netches, silt striders, guar, kwamas, etc...


haute ecole serpent rider: Thank you h.e.s.r.


D.Foxy: Thank you fox. That is the reason for all the joking and wisecracks you see in the earlier FG segments as well.


All: Next, the Bravil FG finally sees some real action.


* * *

Chapter 10g - The Battle Of Bruma

"You heard her ladyship people, let's move!" Pappy exclaimed. Jogging back to where he had left his stakes, he only paused to lift them under his arm before continuing out into the open field beyond. Turning back to look at the mercenaries and Blades issuing from the trees, he nodded his head toward the largest of the Oblivion Gates. "Follow me!"

His metal-clad feet pounded through the amber sea of wheat, the inferno of the Great Gate ever before his eyes. The butterflies he had felt before had now vanished, as they always did once he actually started doing something. He could hear the clattering of steel behind him, and he knew the others were close at his heels. As they finally drew near the golden plants around them vanished, and the dirt underfoot became blackened and hard, like the bottom of a campfire.

Now he could see a clump of Daedra around the gate. It was mostly dremora bearing maces, but there was a huge spider-creature among them as well. With the body of a giant arachnid, it possessed the torso of a pale, almost elven-looking woman. As if filled with nervous energy, it skittered back and forth through the ranks of dremora with surprising quickness for its bulk.

Thankfully they were all looking the other way, Pappy thought, toward where the battle was kicking up on the other side of their army. He raised his hand and stopped short, and heard the others do the same behind him. Wheeling about, he caught his breath and motioned them closer to him.

"Okay, here's the plan," he said, finding his wind again. "Julian, you and your Blades take all of the stakes from us. We're going to engage those fetchers up there. Don't stop to fight alongside us. Go straight to the Gate, drop the stakes, and then head inside."

"You heard the man," Julian said to the other Blades, who took the burden of the wooden stakes from the mercenaries.

"Now the rest of you meatheads," the guild commander said to his own people and pointed to a bare patch of field to the left of the gate. "Archers, I want you off to the side over there, where you can get a clean line of fire as we charge. Raminus, you go with them. We want to draw them away from the gate, so as soon as you get in position fire at will. With any luck, they'll charge you, and then we'll charge them. Alright, go!"

With that Hirtuleius, Corentin, and Seridwe, raced off to the side. Their recurved bows were in hand, and arrows clutched under their fingers. Raminus Polus followed, gnarled staff now gripped tightly in both hands. Under Pappy's direction, the rest of the guild members formed up into a line and drew their swords. Pulling his own double-edged blade, he stared at the runes etched down the length of its broad fuller. 'The Warrior's Wisdom is Hard Counsel' he had been told it read when the King of Skyrim had given it to him after Whiterun. Or as the old Nord had put it in his own tongue: Hardrada.

Raising the enchanted steel overhead, he stepped forward at a slow pace. He did not want to move too fast yet, he thought. The archers needed time to do their work first after all.

Then his eyes were dazzled by a brilliant flash of lightning across the plain before him. The bolt of energy sizzled into the torso of the spider daedra, and from there erupted into a ball of crackling power that engulfed the rest of the dremora as well. Even from where he stood, Pappy could feel his hairs stand on end, and an acrid stink filled his nostrils.

As the great blast of sparks died down, the guild commander could see that the Daedra were blackened and burned, but still very much alive. Arrows began to fall among them as they drew their weapons and turned to look about themselves. The guild commander picked up his pace, yet still did not break into a full run. The eyes of the dremora fell upon the archers as another blast of lightning flashed across the plain. Several of the monsters fell this time. Those that remained broke into a charge at the archers and vice magister.

With that Pappy let out a yell, pointing his sword at the Daedra as he veered off to intercept them. Glancing to either side, he could see that his fighters were with him, while Julian and her Blades continued to race directly to the now unguarded gate.

A bolt of lightning sprang from the hand of the spider daedra as her eight legs propelled her forward, far ahead of the dremora. Raminus staggered under the blast of energy, yet remained on his feet. Lowering his staff, he pointed it at the monster. A green spiral of energy wafted from the three gnarled ends of the stave and struck the spider daedra low in her bloated abdomen. She seemed to freeze then, and fell motionless to the blackened ground.

An eerie shriek pierced the guild commander's ears, and he saw Njall racing ahead of him toward the dremora. The hulking Nord had discarded what little clothing he had previously worn, and now raced stark naked with axe in hand. The blue ink of his tattoos glowed softly, and his lime-soaked hair looked hard as steel under the noon-day sun.

Not too many Nords left like that, Pappy thought, and a good thing too. The guild commander was just thankful that the madman was on his side. He could not imagine what the dremora might think when they saw him. They might even mistake him for one of their own!

They reached the Daedra before the monsters could close with the archers. Njall was the first, long-bladed axe flashing in the sun. Its mithril edge fell, and a Churl went with it. The Nord howled into the sky like a wolf, and took the time to strike the creature's head from its shoulders. Lifting his prize by one horn, the madman kissed it on the lips before flinging it at another of the dremora.

Then Pappy himself was among them. He punched with his shield as he barreled into the nearest monster. It staggered, and while the unholy creature was off-balance the guild commander stabbed low with Hardrada. Whatever supernatural metal comprised the dremora's armor, it could not stand up to the Atmoran sword's Disintegration enchantment. Feeling the ancient steel push into the dremora's stomach, Pappy twisted the blade and jerked it to one side as he pulled it out.

The monster fell to the ground, clutching at the innards that were spilling from its belly. Another bash with the steel rim of his shield sent it reeling onto its back. Then finally the middle-aged Imperial stepped forth and opened its throat with his sword.

Looking about himself, Pappy saw Valerius repeating his same punch and stab technique against another dremora. Yet his steel arming sword failed to pierce the monster's plate armor, and it merely staggered before the young Imperial. Pappy moved to help, raising his sword to strike.

But Tadrose Helas beat him to it. Closing in behind the dremora, the dark elf held her already bloody greatsword with one armored hand in a reversed grip on the hilt, and the other in the middle of the blade, as if it were a spear. Stabbing at the center of the monster's back, her longsword sank between the plates of the creature's armor. Fire erupted from her steel, and the elven characters at the base of the blade glowed red. The dremora went limp as a ragdoll, dropping its wickedly flanged mace and falling to the ground between Tadrose and Valerius.

Stopping short, Pappy looked about himself to find the fight was already over. Everywhere he gazed, Daedric corpses littered the field. His own people stood bloody, but strong over them. We took them by surprise, Pappy thought, the rest will not be so easy. There was no sense telling the others that however.

"See, what'd I tell you Valerius!" Pappy laughed, clapping his hand on the young man's shoulder. The youth nodded, his eyes aglow with the euphoria that comes from survival. One look into Tadrose's blazing crimson eyes showed him that she did not believe his bravado for a second. Thankfully, she was smart enough not to voice that knowledge.

"Anybody wounded?" Pappy now called out, eyes searching the group of mercenaries. When only shakes of their heads greeted him, he turned back to the Great Gate. There was no sign of Julian, or most of her Blades. As he watched, the last of them raced through the fiery portal and vanished into thin air. "Alright people, we aren't getting paid by the hour. Let's take that Gate and watch their backs!"

Regarding the Berserker, or more correctly, the Bare-Sarker: most historical records say they had to dance around and scream a bit before getting up the frenzy to shuck off their clothes and run straight at the enemy.

And most historical records show that 99% of them died after killing their first man. In real life, their use was mainly inspirational - they motivated the rest of the army to fight by their deaths.

Thankfully, the Bare-sarker here does not die.

Good armour-piercing techniques, which are also true to real life historical panzerbrecher technik. I am glad, however, that the dremora are not skilled in the more subtle ways of armour-fighting.

One of which is using a wrestling/judo technique of stepping out of the way and tripping a charging enemy in armour - while a trained soldier can fight surprisingly fast (at least in short bursts) in armour, no heavy armour soldier can rise quickly and smoothly off the ground when he has fallen.

This is why it is not a good idea to charge a skilled enemy who also has room to maneuver if you are wearing heavy armour. If you are so armoured, and you suspect your opponent is skilled, it is a much better idea to slow down ten paces from him and go up to his at a brisk walk.

Very good description of CQ combat medieval style.

After fighting a few months in light armor, Julian will agree with Foxy's assessment about the cons of heavy armor.

Good work, as usual.

Chapter 10f & 10g – The Battle of Bruma

I enjoyed everything about the last two chapters! It is such a pleasure to experience these events from the perspective of those caught in the sweep of history. From Pappy’s motivational techniques with Paol to Njall’s broken field scamper, everything was perfectly described. I especially liked how you made the engagement as chaotic and violent as it was brief. I’d say that you have satisfied the testosterone requirements of your male readers!


I don't imagine that fact makes it onto the recruiting poster in the mead-hall!

I don't imagine that fact makes it onto the recruiting poster in the mead-hall!

Actually, you can't recruit bare-sarkers....they themselves, most of the time, don't know they are bare-sarkers until the battle commences, and the 'fit' seizes them.

In battles against enemy shield walls 99% of the baresarkers died at once. Against a line of spears, no amount of speed and ferocity can make up for a lack of armour.

One little-known fact is that only highly trained, professional soldiers can summon the courage to walk into an unbroken line of waiting spears. If the shield-wall is unbroken and the spears are long, to do so is death...for the front line, at least. This was why the Greek and Macedonian Phalanxes reigned supreme, until the Romans found a way to break the phalanx by hurling Javelins (throwing spears) into the phalanx (at close range, the weight of the spear makes it much, much more deadlier than the arrow) and then charging in with the deadly shortsword into the broken shieldwall.

In the Nordic Armies, which did not have the professional drill of the Greek Phalanx, it was not unusual for two shield walls to stand at fifty paces range for three or four hours, shouting curses at each other, but refusing to fight as they did not have the courage to charge.

This was where the bare-sarkers came in.

Fuelled by a combination of psychogical instability, drugs, alcohol, the promise of a glorious afterlife in Valhalla after death, and the awe of others, they would dance about while the drums pounded louder and louder, and work themselves up into a frenzy. At the height of the frenzy they would suddenly strip off their clothes and armour and charge straight into the enemy line to kill one or two enemies while dying a glorious death.

Their contempt for death would spur the rest of the army to charge, and then the true slaughter would begin.

Several chapters, and all caught up again. I love Teresa's 'bird's eye view' carefully punctuated with Pappy's mud and blood perspective. Pappy's brief tussle was a perfect touch. I was delighted to see Tadrose again - and so wonderfully portrayed - yes, she should have her own guild. The brief mention of our Julian was yet another treat.

It seems you went for epic here and certainly succeeded. Well done, and an exciting pleasure to read!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - (Teresa) - - - - - -

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

D.Foxy: Njall is not really based on the Norse berserkers, but rather on the Celtic Gaesatae. Hence the tattoos, quicklimed hair, and fighting naked. It is only the name, and the Danish war axe that are norse about him. Unlike most naked people however, he is much better armored, thanks to his tattoos. As far as his life expectancy goes, well, no one in the Bravil Guild has a very long one...

Perhaps you should start a Blades, Fights, and Assassins topic here?


haute ecole ouroboros: Thank you h.e.o.

Heavy armor and light armor both have pros and cons depending on the situation. In pitched battles, where you have to hold your place in the line no matter what (meaning very little ability to maneuver), and you may not even see the person who attacks you, heavy armor is a goddessend. The mail armor and helmets that the Romans wore are a big reason why they conquered most of the Celts, who by comparison typically wore no armor at all, and only had a body shield for defense. A blow that would only stagger a Roman, if even that, was mortal to a Celt. It is ironic, seeing that the Romans got their armor from the Celts to begin with (they were much more advanced in metallurgy than the Romans).

On the other hand in individual fighting like duels, or most of the things you would see an adventurer in the ES games, there is typically plenty of room to move around, and use speed and agility to your advantage in a fight. The Celts and Germans often did well in raids against the Romans because of this. In fact, cattle-raiding was a huge part of the Celtic warrior's reason for existing.


Destri Melarg: Thank you Destri. I wanted to show Pappy's charisma in 10f, and finally get him and the others in some action in 10g. Because it was essentially two groups charging into one another, I wanted it to seem chaotic.


Acadian: Wednesday is Acadian day! Thank you Acadian. It was good to write Tadrose again. I am hoping to add a little more insight into the mystery that is Tadrose Helas with this chapter Or perhaps just more layers to the onion... I love the vikings and the wizard!


All: This next segment will be a little on the big side, but there was no good place to cut it without going really short, or breaking in the middle of the later action. Speaking of which, the second half begins with an homage to a classic western.


* * *

Chapter 10h - The Battle Of Bruma

As the final, massive line of dremora began their march forward, the Redguard cavalry galloped out to meet them on the right of the human army. The light horsemen rode up to the approaching lines of Daedric soldiers and began pelting them with javelins. Teresa saw that it did not take long at all before the footborne dremora began to break ranks and race out to try to come to grips with the Redguards. Yet the riders easily danced their horses out of reach, goading the dremora to follow.

Before they were halfway across the space between armies the entire left flank of the dremora host broke into a charge upon the light cavalrymen. The Redguards fled toward the open plain to the south, with the Daedra streaming after them in a mob.

With a sound of trumpets, the heavy legionary cavalry and knights spurred their mounts forward. The thunder of their hooves added to the already terrific din of battle, yet few of the dremora paid them any heed, so intent were they upon chasing their Redguard tormentors. The heavy cavalry smashed into the disorganized mass of soldiers with an even louder crash of mortal steel upon supernatural metal, mixed in with Imperial cheers of victory and Daedric cries of anguish.

Rank upon rank dremora went down under the avalanche, and now the Redguards finally turned their lighter mounts and charged themselves. Drawing their swords, they added their own steel to the clash of arms as they cut down the disorganized footmen left and right.

Yet Teresa saw that when the charge had finally lost its impetus, there were still dremora remaining, so deep had been their line. Now the horsemen, stopped in their tracks, traded blows with monsters that began to slowly crowd around them. The knights, in their ebony and glass armor, pounded away at the gathering hordes with near impunity. The legionary cavalry fared nearly as well in their heavy plate. The Redguards however, suffered greatly in their lighter armor, and soon many of their dead littered the field underfoot.

By that time the rest of the dremora army reached the leading elements of the Imperial foot, the Fifth Legion, whose high crested helms made them easy to distinguish from the other legionaries. The Imperials fought as stoutly and expertly as she had seen before, yet the greater numbers of the dremora soon began to push them backward across the wheat fields.

* * *

"Hey Pappy, how come they don't have to dig?" asked Vincent Galien. Barely two weeks in the guild, and he bellyached like a ten year veteran, Pappy thought to himself as he pounded a stake into the ground. Before he could open his mouth to reply, Hirtuleius did.

"Because there are two kinds of people in this world son," the grey-haired Imperial explained, "those who have bows, and those who dig."

That brought a few chuckles from the other mercenaries, who along with Pappy and Vincent were busy creating a fence of sharpened stakes. Rather than rising straight from the ground, the pickets jutted out at an angle, their ends at roughly chest level. Surrounding the rapidly growing barrier were Raminus and the three archers, Hirtuleius, Corentin, and Seridwe, all with arrows nocked and ready to fire from their recurved bows. Directly behind them rose the fires of the Great Gate itself, bathing them all in its red-orange light, and hot enough to bring sweat to all their brows, even those not digging.

"Shouldn't we be doing this on the inside of the Gate, where they won't see us?" young Valerius asked.

"It would be a one-way trip if we did," Pappy explained as he finished driving one stake into the ground and picked up another. "Only people near the Sigil Stone come back when you take it and close the Gate. Someone got left behind at Kvatch because of that."

"Damn," Aissa murmured, "That's a hard piece of luck."

"They'd see the dead bodies of the dremora guarding the Gate and come looking anyway." Paol added in. "Besides, better to fight on our own turf."

"Someone's taken an interest in us." Pappy looked up at Seridwe's words. To the north, a group of dremora guarding the nearest normal-sized Oblivion Gate were looking at them and gesturing. The twang of a bowstring sounded out, and seconds later one of them fell with a feathered shaft buried deep in its chest.

"Dammit Seri, hold your fire until they actually attack! You want to run out of ammo before we even start?" Pappy cursed, dropping the stake he had been holding and reaching for his sword. Now the dremora - more Churls from the maces they carried - let out an eerie howl. Flame spat from the staff which one carried, and a moment later erupted in a ball of fire that engulfed Pappy and half the mercenaries.

He had just enough time to raise his shield over his eyes as the flames broke over him. Heat seared through every joint of his armor, and the guild commander gritted his teeth. Damn, he cursed, even with the Fire Shield on his orcish shield and the Ring of Firewalking he wore, that still hurt. Damn his Trollkin blood…

"Archers, finish off that mage!" he heard Tadrose Helas yell from nearby.

Being a Dunmer, she probably barely noticed the flames, Pappy thought to himself as he rose and drew his sword. Waving the blade over his head, he raced to the side of the half-constructed barricade that faced the dremora. "Form a line on me!" he yelled. "Fighters Guild to me!"

His hair stood on end as the crackle of nearby lightning filled his ears. Brilliant light danced across the field, striking deeply into the oncoming dremora ranks. More arrows followed. Glancing to the side, he saw that Raminus Polus was standing beside him, and Valerius next to the mage. Paol stood at his other shoulder, then Morning-Star.

A blood-curdling scream filled his ears as the pale form of Njall vaulted effortlessly over the fence of stakes. Tattoos glowing soft blue, the wild Nord pelted across the scorched ground toward the oncoming dremora.

"Cacat no!" Pappy shouted after the battle-crazed man. "Get back here you fetcher! Stand in line!"

Yet even as he screamed, Pappy knew the Nord would not stop his charge. Either he could not hear when the battle-fury was upon him, or he simply did not care. The guild commander had never really been sure which it was. So the berserker fell into the mass of dremora with axe waving high in the air. His initial rush brought down one of the Churls. But the other dremora clustered around him, maces flashing in the midday sun. The Shield enchantment of the Nord's tattoos flashed as their blows landed, turning many harmlessly away. But some of the impacts overwhelmed his magical defense, and soon he staggered under the onslaught, dropping his axe from a shattered hand. Then he vanished within a crowd of dremora.

"Aissa no!" came Paol's shout. Turning, Pappy saw that now the Redguard was racing out from behind the barricade of stakes and into the open field. Her mithril armor shone brightly, as did the meteoric glass blade of her arming sword. Half of the Churls now turned on her, and in spite of the arrows and bolts of lightning that fell among them, she fell even quicker than the Nord had.

"Nobody leave the line you damned dreck-headed fetchers!" Pappy now yelled, turning this way and that to see the looks of horror upon the faces of his guild mates. "I swear I'll personally kill the next one of you buggers who does! We stand together, or die apart, like they did!"

Moments later the dremora charge was upon them. Their front ranks tried to dodge around the stakes leveled directly at their chest. Yet the rear ranks crowded so eagerly behind that some were impaled upon the spikes anyway. Standing in one of the openings in the unfinished fence, Pappy raised his shield to deflect a mace aimed at his head. Hardrada's reply sent the Churl reeling away with a bleeding shoulder.

Lightning crackled and sizzled to one side of him, as Raminus sent blasts of magical energy into the oncoming dremora from behind the safety of the stakes. One of the Daedra clambered over the forest of spikes and sent a mace at his head, and the vice-magister clumsily attempted to deflect the blow his staff. The magician's form was far from expert however, and the heavy blow landed soundly upon his shoulder. Raminus barely noticed however, and the mace bounced off the soft cloth of his mage's robe as if it were made of the hardest ebony.

He's learned not to rely upon Shield spells, Pappy thought to himself, one Dispel and they are gone. The guild commander still remembered the goblin shaman who had done that to the magician so many years ago…

Pappy moved over to help the mage, but a moment later the Imperial laid a hand on the dremora's chest. Sparks flew from his fingers, and the corpse of the Oblivion-spawn went hurtling back across the fence of stakes.

Then another dremora came at Pappy, and once again the guild commander deflected the mace with his shield. Making a show of staggering back, he saw the monster draw back his weapon to strike with all of its might. The ghost of a smile crossed Pappy's lips as his own arm exploded forward, driving Hardrada's tip though the Churl's unarmored throat, its wide blade nearly severing the dremora's head.

There were no more dremora in front of him then. Looking to either side, he saw that what remained of the Daedra were fleeing across the field, arrows chasing them. Gulping for breath, he looked over his own people. Morning-Star was nursing a bloody arm, and Valerius was swaying on his feet. Otherwise the rest of them seemed hale and whole. Except for Njall and Aissa, he thought darkly.

"Hold on there Raminus," Pappy said to the vice magister, who was raising his hand to cast a spell at the fleeing dremora. "We've got wounded."

Nodding toward the wounded men, Pappy followed the magister to the Argonian. The guild commander expertly stripped away the armor around lizardine's forearm, even as Morning-Star insisted it was not serious. White pieces of bone poked from the scales underneath, and Pappy held the Argonian still as the vice magister first set the bone, then healed it with a white light that sprang up from over the Argonian's head and fell about him in a disc of energy.

By then Tadrose had put the rest of the mercenaries back to the task of planting stakes. Except for Valerius, whose helmet she had eased from his head to display a black and blue goose egg beneath his dark hair. Another spell of Raminus' made that vanish, and moment later he was back into line with the others and hard at work.

The vice magister swayed on his feet himself then, and Pappy put out a hand to steady the other Imperial. Casting a critical eye upon the magician, the guild commander did not see any wounds. Rather the other man simply looked exhausted. Lifting one of the water skins from his hips, he offered it to the mage.

"Thanks old friend," Raminus said, after taking a long gulp. "Healing others takes a lot out of me, it does everyone."

"Well, then you aren't going to like what I have tell you," Pappy began, glancing darkly at Calva before turning his gaze back to Raminus. "We don't have as many healing potions as I expected we would. I'm going to need you primarily on healing duty from here on out. Stay back from the line and just keep us going with those Convalescence spells. Don't fight unless you absolutely have to."

"But you know I can hit harder than anyone else here," Raminus protested. "I'm supposed to be the big right hand, remember?"

"I remember," Pappy said, feeling irritation bubbling up through his lips. "But defense is going to win this game, not offense. No matter how many of these fetchers we kill there's going to be a thousand more. We need staying power if we're going to keep them from getting back into that Gate and going after Julian. And if she drops the ball, then we need to have enough left to stop that Siege Crawler. Otherwise it's Kvatch all over again."

Excellent! I'm going to have to refer to this chapter when I write my own!

And I can assure Pappy that Julian will not drop the ball!

Calva is still alive? Hmph! I doubt he'll last the next segment!

As for your comments on heavy vs. light armor, agreed on all points.

I thought someone had stuck four feet of sword up that fetcher Calva's keister already....seems like the FG is getting soft, these days...

Hey, Rosa, let me do an Acadian on you and point out -

"...he saw the monster loaf of bread back his weapon to strike with all of its might..."

NOW I WONDER WHAT VERB WOULD SEEM SO TERRIBLE TO THE AUTOCENSOR TO MAGICALLY TURN IT INTO A LOAF OF BREAD!!!




I see that you have absorbed my notes about battle lines and baresarkers into your story. EXCELLENT. Realism rules!!!!

Yes. The line and discipline in holding the line was the beginning, and end, of battle training and discipline in the old days.

Wow! It all really came together here! Big picture, little picture, mud & blood, old relationships. Wonderfully done!

Some of my favorite parts:

QFT

What a wonderful poignant memory of Julian having to leave Menien behind. Heartbreaking.

I love the fact that Pappy and Raminus are old friends! I also enjoyed how you highlighted the draining effects of casting healing spells.

the worm hauteboros: Thank you hatue. Please feel free to use anything you like from here in OHDH.

Funny you should mention Calva, his fate will be decided in this segment.


D.Foxy: Ahh, once more I forgot that the board does not like it when someone roostered their arm back. Thank you for pointing out my whole grains.

Actually, Njall and Aissa's deaths were like that from the start. That was meant to show one of the weaknesses of the Fighters Guild as a whole. Except for those who are former legion, they are not really trained, nor have experience in, large set-piece battles. Rather I envision them being accustomed to working either alone, or in very small groups. They are warriors rather than soldiers, much like the dremora. This is why later in the TF we will see Pappy drilling the new Bravil Guild an hour a day in formation fighting.


Acadian: Thank you A. I am glad you caught the reference to Julian having to leave Goneld behind, because that is exactly what I was thinking. Likewise with the Good, Bad, and the Ugly line.

Pappy knowing Raminus is something I worked out a long time ago, when I was doing background on Saya Aren. When Raminus was a fresh graduate from the AU, he did a study on goblins, in which he needed live subjects to study. So the legion had to capture a tribe of goblins for him, and Pappy, also a fresh-faced centurion, led the century that got the job. I am sure a lot of sparks flew before they finally came to an understanding with one another. Later in the TF there will be an FG mission against goblins, and the things they discovered will be put to good use.


All: We are getting near the end now. This has been one long chapter. My longest ever in fact.

* * *

Chapter 10i - The Battle Of Bruma

Teresa saw both lines now fully engaged. On the right the cavalry were locked in melee combat with the dremora footmen. Moving to the left, the three legions were likewise slugging it out with the monsters. The Fifth Legion, with their distinctive plumed helmets, were plainly struggling. Teresa was not surprised, as they had been the first of the infantry to engage the enemy, and thusly had been in the battle the longest. After them the other two legions held, but their line was far thinner than that of the Oblivion-spawn, and was slowly being pushed back. At the far left, the mail-clad guardsmen of Bruma were visibly crumbling under the onslaught of the more heavily armed and armored Daedra.

She saw riders streaming back and forth from the knot of soldiers which the Emperor was a part of. Yet they did not ride up to him, but rather reported to the Imperial soldier who wore the red sash around his waist and held the ivory baton in his hand. He must be the general, Teresa imagined, since he was plainly the one directing the battle.

That surprised her, for she would have expected Martin to be in command. Maybe he's not a soldier, Teresa thought to herself as she winged over the battlefield. In any case, he must really trust the other man to lead the army for him. She did not have to be told what would befall if they lost, which seemed to be happening.

The riders leaving the general galloped to the small knots of warriors still waiting behind the lines. With a mismatch of armor and weapons, she once more guessed that they must be either a local militia or mercenaries. Dipping low over one such group, she noticed that the better equipped ones wore medallions on their chests, in the form a red shield with a white sword pointing downward across it. The Fighters Guild, she realized, having seen that symbol before on their guild hall in the Arena District.

A moment after the arrival of the riders, the groups of warriors finally charged forward, stiffening the city guard to the far left and the Fifth Legion on the right. That seemed to give the dremora line pause, at least for the time being. Yet now Teresa could see the Imperial army had nothing left to throw into the battle if things went badly.

Flying back across the Daedric line and over many large clumps of their dremora soldiers still unengaged behind it, something strange caught Teresa's beady raven's eye. There was fighting around the base of the largest gateway, yet who could be there, in the very rear of the entire Oblivion army?

Flying closer, she saw that there was a circle of wooden stakes buried into the ground, and the corpses of many Daedra hung from their points. Yet many more dremora were swarming through the gaps in the spikes, or hacking away the timbers to force wider openings. Within a polyglot band of men and women were fighting for their lives against the attacking monsters.

As she dove lower, she saw one dremora was larger than the others, and carried a massive war hammer in both hands. Striding up behind a warrior clad in a mixture of orcish and legionary plate, the dremora lifted its hammer over its head to deliver a crushing blow upon the unsuspecting man.

Teresa poured on all the speed she could muster from her ebon wings and swooped down upon the pair. Opening her beak, she blasted forth the loudest cry of warning that her avian lungs could call up.

* * *

Pappy did not know what made him turn, pure luck, some sixth sense of danger, or perhaps even the intervention of the gods. He did not waste time musing on the answer, because he saw a tall dremora standing directly behind him with a two-handed hammer raised over his head. The great metal weapon had already begun its downward stroke, and the guild commander screamed at himself to move as he pushed his armor-clad frame out of the way.

He felt the whoosh of air as the great block of Daedric steel passed mere inches from his head, only to thud heavily into the ground underfoot a moment later. Without thinking, Pappy punched his shield into the over-extended dremora's shoulder, pushing it even further off-balance. Hardrada followed, easily sundering the mail under the monster's armpit and sinking deeply into the flesh beneath. Giving the double-edged blade a vicious twist, he pulled it out. A moment later he finished the creature - whom he now realized must be a Markynaz or Valkynaz.

Turning, he saw that the dremora had finally gotten into the barricade. Cacat! he cursed, now they were in it for certain! Cutting down another dremora, he made his way toward where he saw Vincent was desperately trying to fend off a pair of swordsmen. As he watched helplessly, the Breton was too slow on his guard and a jagged arming sword fell upon his head.

The yellow light of his guild medallion's Shield enchantment flashed, and the steel of the Breton's helmet held. Still, Vincent staggered back, lowering his shield. The second dremora brought his blade down for a killing blow a moment later.

It was blocked by Calva's Dwemer shield. The Imperial stepped in front of the youthful Breton and traded blows with the Kynval. Then the first dremora thrust from the side, under Calva's shield, and skewered him in the guts in spite of both armor and enchantment. The Imperial fell a moment later, as the Daedra tore out the blade and spilled his intestines across the ground.

Then Pappy had reached them, the sound of Calva's screams lending strength to his arm. Hardrada shattered the shield of Calva's slayer with one blow of its enchanted blade. His next swing took the dremora's sword hand, and the creature fled out of reach. Turning to deal with the other Kynval, he saw that Vincent stood breast to breast with the monster, too close for either to use their swords. As Pappy moved in, the Breton neatly tripped the dremora after working a foot behind its ankle and shoving with his shield. The guild commander followed it up with a thrust to the creature's throat, finishing it.

Calva had gone silent, and Pappy turned to see that a dremora stood over the Imperial's corpse, bloody sword in hand. Well, the Imperial thought, that at least saved him the trouble of doing it himself. Not that he was going to thank the dremora for it.

Their eyes locked, and the guild commander feinted at the monster's head. The Kynval was too wily to fall for the trick, and easily pushed aside Pappy's real strike a moment later. It followed with a stroke at his head, which Pappy effortlessly parried on his shield.

Then a moment later it fell, and Pappy saw another dremora standing behind it with a bloody sword and a look that might have been satisfaction crossing its infernal features. "Many of them have old scores to settle with one another." The words of Arentus Falvius echoed in his mind.

Pappy did not waste time. Instead he barreled forward, smashing his shield against the creature's body. The dremora was ready however, and was able to brace himself against the Imperial's charge. The two stood chest to chest, too close for either to use their swords.

"On your belly mortal!" The dremora's voice was like razorblades scraping across steel plate. It dropped its sword and drew forth a serrated dagger. Pappy let Hardrada fall as well, and reached out to grasp the dremora's wrist in time to stop the point from skewering his face. Yet the dremora was taller than he was, and was using that leverage to slowly push the supernatural blade closer and closer toward the Y-shaped slit in his legion helmet.

Pappy twisted his body, working his right foot in front of the dremora's own. Sweeping the dremora's feet back, at the same time he pivoted from his hip and pulled the monster forward. Already using all of its strength to push in that direction, the Daedra went flying over the guild commander and crashed to the scorched ground behind him. Drawing his own dagger from his hip, Pappy fell upon the monster and drove it through one of the eye slits in its helmet.

"Fighters! Rally on me!" Pappy rose to his feet and shouted as loud as he could. Gathering up Hardrada, he waved for the other fighters to join him. "Back to back, form a circle!"

At his words the other warriors backed away from the smashed barricades and formed into a knot with Raminus Polus at its center. Standing shoulder to shoulder, with the mage casting healing spells on each as they suffered a wound, they fended off the dremora assault. When the Oblivion-spawn finally withdrew, Pappy looked around and had to resist a groan at the sight.

Seridwe lay motionless on the crisped dirt, glassy eyes staring at the sky overhead. Her armor was rent under the left breast, washing her abdomen and legs with blood. At the other side of the circle lay Paol, his orcish armor stove in and chest crushed beneath it.

The work of the Markynaz, Pappy thought as he closed his eyes. It must have gotten Paol before coming after him. Damn, damn, damn! he cursed. What had he led them into?

"If I should fall to rise no more,
as many comrades did before.
Ask the pipes and drums to play,
over the hills and far away"

The soft voice of Hirtuleius came to his ears. Fighting back the tears that were forming in his eyes, Pappy looked over at the Imperial. The other man was kneeling down next to the body of J'sharr, whose head was nowhere to be seen.

Hirtuleius rose to his feet, and Pappy could see the other man was indeed weeping. Then the archer's Shield enchantment flashed yellow as the black feathers of an arrow sprouted from the Imperial's throat. A look of shock crossed the grey-haired man's face as he collapsed, grasping for the arrow that had taken his life.

"Cover!" Pappy shouted, dropping to his knees and raising his shield. He heard a thunk! and felt the shock of impact as one of the missiles impacted into the enchanted wood of his shield.

"Shields up, form a wall!" he cried out, and the remaining fighters did as he commanded. Even Tadrose snatched up a dremora shield. Kneeling down in front of Raminus, she held the protective screen above the two of them as the mage fumbled through his pockets.

"Leave them to me!" the magician cried, drawing forth a magicka gem. The long, jagged crystal glowed with a soft blue light. The vice magister briefly closed his eyes in concentration, and that energy flowed into him. Then the stone turned to dust beneath his fingers. A moment later he rose from behind Tadrose's shield and thrust his hand out. A storm burst from his hand, and the arrows stopped coming.

Pappy looked up at twin fangs of black rock that loomed above him, and the wall of brilliant energy that shone between them. Where in the blazes was Julian? he wondered.

Wrestling trips and throws!!! YESSSSSS!!!!

And the scent and taste of battle. REALISM RULES!!!!


And so does Rosa...ROSA RULES!!!

Oh my... that was beautifulterribleawesomegruesome....
For someone who doesn't really like writing combat, can I just say you do it very empathically.

Well I'm caught up now and that was indeed excellent. The contrast between Teresa's detatched tone and Pappy's very much on the ground and gritty one kept both fresh and having Teresa get involved was a nice touch.

Thumbs up for realism too, and for brutality; the fighters are lasting about as long as would be likely. Developing them and the atmosphere before is certainly paying off now.

I can't wait to see this resolved.

The battle reaches a peak! And what an awesome peak it is! The view is magnificent from there.

I did spot a nit:

Viscous refers to thick liquid (like syrup). I think vicious would be better in this context, it means brutal. Also, this sentence reads like a fragment. Maybe you meant to make it part of the one that follows, or like this: Giving the double-edged blade a vicious twist, he pulled it out.

But whoo, pure adrenaline! No one needs any of that overrated Redguard rush stuff - reading this segment is enough by itself!

This is simply damn good writing! I especially like the way that you depicted the deaths of Calva and Hirtuleius. One man dies while bravely shielding a comrade, the other dies suddenly from the arrow that you never see coming. I can’t think of a better commentary on the heat of battle than that.

Hwut he said!

The overall impact here of power, blood, tears was magnificent. Some of your very best - and that says alot! Now, you know I like Teresa doing chick stuff, but my goodness, this was great!

Some little bits that stood out:

Indeed, it makes all the sense in the world that the guild would have a hall in the IC and where better there than the Arena District?

Oh, this makes my teeth hurt so good. Wonderful!

Magnificent, or jaw dropping (take your choice) are the only words that will do for this transition!

A nit, maybe? Did you mean to refer to him as 'the Martin'? I guess I can see that perhaps, but I suspect an earler draft may have said 'the Emperor' and you changed it to Martin, overlooking the 'the'?

D.Foxy: Thank you Fox. Pappy's throw was a Judo move that I found a video to. Of course now I have forgotten the name! Vincent's was a pretty standard trip. Just as in reality, I am sure grappling would be an important part of both legion and fighter's guild training.


Remko: Thank you Remko. I am one of those "less is more" kind of people. I prefer to keep things like fighting to a minimum, so that when it does happen it carries more impact.


Olen: Thank you Olen. I am glad the switching between distant and up-close povs is working.


haute ecoleboros: Thank you h.e.o. Thank you for the serpentine eye. You were quite right on both counts.


Destri Melarg: No more horn? Thank you Dest. I wanted to give Calva a heroic death so that he did not come across as a one-dimensional villain. While with Hirtuleius I wanted to show the pure randomness of death in gigantic battles.


Acadian: Thank you A. In the TF, the Arena district is where the low rent housing is in the IC (not counting the Waterfront, which is a pure ghetto and far worse.) With the Arena being there, it felt like a natural for the FG to have its headquarters nearby. Likewise, I figure that is where all the brothels are in the IC as well (prostitutes actually have a guild. I read about it in the History of the Fighter's Guild book in the game).

I am glad you liked that transition between Teresa and Pappy. I wanted to do something to give her some form of personal involvement in the battle, rather than having her being a purely neutral observer.

Good eye on that nit. You were exactly right, I had said "the Emperor" in a previous edit.


All: Now the thrilling conclusion to the Battle of Bruma, which I believe includes the coolest entrance I have ever written in the TF.

* * *

Chapter 10j - The Battle Of Bruma

The sound of hooves came to Teresa's raven ears, drawing her attention from the fighters clustered about the Great Gate. Flying up to see better, she found that the heavy cavalry on the right had cleared the flank of dremora and reformed into a tight line facing north, directly at the exposed left side of the Daedric army.

With a blare of trumpets, the knights and mounted legionaries moved forward. First at a walk, but steadily picking up speed until they finally thundered across the field in a full charge. Those few who still had lances lowered them as they approached the Daedra. However, most raised swords, axes, and hammers in their armored fists instead.

They crashed into the exposed flank of the dremora and smashed it utterly. Continuing on, they pushed their way along the Daedric line, the infantrymen of the Fifth Legion now moving in beside them. The entire thing reminded Teresa of a carpet being slowly rolled up, and her heart leaped within the bounds of her avian chest.

Yet the sound of drums smothered her rising exultation. Now she saw those bands of dremora still behind the Oblivion army running forward, directly into the heavy cavalry. The flanking movement ground to a halt when it met the fresh dremora troops, and now both armies stood locked together in desperate combat.

Yet Teresa could see that it was the Daedra who had the upper hand. They still vastly outnumbered the Imperial host, and once again were slowly but surely pressing the humans back. It would take a miracle to save them now, Teresa glumly realized.

Now she saw that some of the officers behind the Imperial line rode forward and to the right. Winging her way in that direction, she found that it was the Blades, with the Emperor in the lead. He had taken up the great gold and red dragon banner and was waving it over his head as he spurred his horse into a gallop, leading it directly into the melee on the right.

"Stand with your Emperor!" she could hear him cry out as she swooped over him. "Stand with me friends!"

* * *

Pappy lifted one hand over his head, concentrating upon the image of a snarling troll in his mind. Gathering up his magicka into a tight spot within his fist, he opened his fingers and let it go. The white energy fell around him in a halo, and the pain of his wounds vanished behind it.

Looking about himself, he saw that Tadrose and Vincent were both battered and bleeding. They were not so lucky as he to have born under the sign of the Lord, he thought, and have the powerful healing ability it conferred. Still, they too used the healing spells they knew, imitating his motions, but having less dramatic results. Raminus was worst of all, laying unconscious between the trio with his head soaked in blood. Yet at least the magister's chest still rose and fell, unlike the rest of Pappy's guild.

Looking out across the heaps of Daedric corpses that surrounded them, the Imperial could make out those of his friends as well. Morning-Star, Corentin, Valerius, all lay dead with the others of his chapter. Only he, Tadrose, and Vincent were left. None of them had run, he thought, none and wavered. Not even Calva. All had given their lives without hesitation.

A strange noise came to his ears, like a grinding of metal upon metal, mixed in with the whoosh of flames, and the faint screaming of the dying. A shadow fell across the three fighters, and along with the others, Pappy looked up into the sky above them. Debouching itself from the Oblivion Gate behind them was the rounded end of what seemed like a metal pole. Except Pappy had never seen a pole that was twenty feet wide and bore rotating, jagged spikes along its length. A brilliant red-orange fire burned at the very tip of the protruding mass, as if were molten steel. As he watched, it slowly pushed farther and farther out of the gate, casting a long shadow beneath it.

Pappy did not need to be told what that was. The Daedric Siege Crawler. It could mean only one thing. Julian and her Blades and failed. This was the end.

"Well this is just great!" the guild commander heard Vincent exclaim beside him. "What's next? The damned Daedric Prince?"

"We've got to find a way to destroy that thing." Pappy breathed, tightening his fist around Hardrada's whalebone grip. Tadrose and Vincent stood at either of his shoulders, weapons also at the ready. Pappy felt his heart soar. There were no better people in the world, he thought proudly, no one better to die with.

Something happened to the gate then. The twin columns of stone that rose on either of its flanks began to groan and shudder. Cracks appeared through their lengths, and piece after piece broke off and fell into the center of the burning energy between them. Then each stone fang gave way completely, collapsing into the middle of the swirling mass of fire. Even the Siege Crawler shuddered and began to fall backward into the gate, its metal surface twisting and distorting where it touched the red light.

"Mara!" Pappy heard Tadrose murmur beside him.

The Great Gate collapsed into a bright point of light. Pappy was not sure what prompted him, but he turned and pulled his two companions away, throwing the three of them to the ground. There was a rush of heat overhead, and the entire world went bright red, even through his closed eyelids. The ground shook beneath them, and he felt himself thrown into the air.

When the world finally swam back into focus, Pappy found himself and the others at least twenty paces away from where the Great Gate had stood. Now the only thing left to mark its existence was the twisted and smoldering ruin of the front half of the Daedric Siege Crawler.

Standing beside it was Julian of Anvil, her white hair streaming out behind her. She held her katana in one hand, and clutched a gigantic orb close to her breast with the other. It seemed to be comprised of energy that constantly churned beneath her fingers, and made a noise that was a cross between the grinding of metal upon metal and the screeching of tortured souls.

* * *

Even from where she flew over the Emperor, Teresa could see the great gate collapse upon itself. The brilliant explosion that followed tossed her through the air, and she only barely managed to regain control of her wings before crashing to the ground. She saw the massed armies were staggered as well, and slowly rose to their feet to witness the same thing she did. The Great Gate had been destroyed!

At the Emperor's exhortations, the knights and legionaries renewed their attack upon the Daedra, who now faltered. Yet even now the dremora did not break, and after giving ground near the Emperor for long minutes, they slowly began to push back once more.

They were still not beaten, Teresa despaired, now flying behind the Daedric army to where the Great Gate had once stood. She saw only a handful of mortals remained within the ruins of the circle of stakes. Yet now there was one among them that she recognized. With her long white hair, she was easy to spot. Julian of Anvil, The Hero of Kvatch.

Where had she come from? Teresa wondered, and what was that strange, glowing sphere that she cradled in one arm?

Then a line of dust along the northern horizon caught her attention. As she turned in that direction, the sound of trumpets rang out from the same area. Swooping closer, Teresa could now see a line of horsemen in legionary armor riding nearer. Their dragon standards swept out in the wind behind them, and their lances glittered in the sun. Behind them came a long column of infantry, also at a run. There were thousands of them, Teresa saw, and they were charging directly into the rear of the Daedric army!

* * *

"Back to back!" Pappy cried. A group of at least thirty dremora was closing in on them. Probably drawn by the destruction of the gate, he imagined. "Julian, get in the center with Raminus!"

"I can fight!" the Redguard protested.

"We can't let them get their hands on that!" Pappy nodded at the Great Sigil Stone she cradled to her chest. "If they do, this is all for nothing."

With that the Redguard allowed the guild commander and the others to crowd in around her. A few moments later the first of the dremora were upon them. As ever, Hardrada served him well as it sundered even the best dremora armor under its Atmoran edge. Likewise, his combination of enchanted legion plate and orcish steel stood up to most of the Daedric blows. Most.

But he knew it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed. Already Vincent and Tadrose were faltering. It was only Julian's own katana licking out behind the two that saved them time and again. How long could they hold out? Pappy wondered.

The sound of thunder came to his ears, louder even than the din coming off the Great Sigil Stone. A moment later the ground began to tremble, and trumpets blasted nearby. Then a terrific crashing of metal on metal came to his ears, mixed in with the pounding of horse's hooves and screams of dremora.

"Kvatch! Kvatch! Kvatch!" came battlecries from all around, and the dremora were slaughtered in whirlwind of lances and swords. Horses galloped past in a blur, men in dark legion plate astride them. A great dragon standard came to a halt over their heads, silk windsock trailing out behind it in the breeze. Legio X was written across the plaque beneath the great, golden wyrm. The Tenth Legion had come at last!

* * *

Teresa watched from above as the heavy horsemen of the newly arrived Imperial Legion charged directly into the rear of the dremora, smashing their way clear through to the Imperial infantry opposite them in many places. Behind them came more legionaries on foot, screaming at the top of their lungs.

The Daedric host simply dissolved then. There was no other way to put it. What had moments before been an army, turned into a mob fleeing for the gateways that dotted the plain. The newly arrived legionary horse cut many down as they ran, as did their comrades on foot. The Imperials who had been on the field for the entire battle did not pursue however, most simply collapsed in what Teresa hoped was only exhaustion.

In the midst of it all she saw the figure of a woman, clad in the simple skirt and bodice of a peasant. Swooping lower, Teresa found that she was kneeling over the rent body of one of the Imperial foresters. Her hands clutched her face, and auburn hair flowed down in front of her, so Teresa could not make our her features. Not that she needed to.

Morcant had been right. Attius would never return.

Wow. Just.. wow. That, my dear SubRosa, is one of the best battle ever written!!!11one!!1

The intensity, hopelessness and details... You, ma'am, are awesome beyond words!

Well done!

Julian would hate how you made her seem so heroic! But I like it! If only we had a twirl emoticon here! I'll just have to settle for this:

But as Julian would say, the real heroes are the ones who died out there, holding the horde off from the Great Gate, as well as Pappy, Vincent, Tadrose and Raminus.

This segment was a properly written addition to a well-described epic battle. And in the end, Morcant finding Attius among the dead is also appropriate, though very saddening.

Loved this! (Natch)

A great conclusion to a very well written battle piece. I must confess to shying away from such things on grounds of how hard they are to write but you pulled all the stops out here and it works marvelously, the quickening changes of perspective built a good atmosphere too. The foreshadowed arrival of the tenth provides a convincing end to the battle and ties up that loose end.

It seems Morcant was right though, a good inclusion to show that though they won the cost was more than just numbers.

I can't remember whether you said we met the nave of swords (if I remember the card correctly) or not in this section but given the development they got I suspect we may meet the Bruma fighters' guild again.

And still you keep the hooks in deep, what's Teresa going to make of this when she comes round? And what is her part in events? So many questions, great stuff