The Attrillias Isles
2158 EA - The Age of The Emperor
A clear blue sky had broken the dawnlight, pearly white clouds enfolded across its tapestry.
The hill almost looked tranquil its former bloody glory now cleared away by the Squires, Phîran Malc watched as the auxiliaries and squires reinforced the camp.
It had taken them two days to clear the hill, the Draycons had deployed Wildfolks as skirmishers, it had been bloody work.
He turned to see Velek stride up the hill, a decade his junior he was a mammoth of man well over seven feet, his square features adorned with had long moustaches that hung down to his chest.
His brown hair platted in a single long ponytail braided with ringlets like those worn by the Northfolk.
This day he lacked his customary bronze breastplate and greaves, instead dressed in a tunic, briefs and boots.
Sheathed across his back his prized sword Anglachel, a blade crafted from the iron of a meteoric strike.
Phîran was a good foot shorter than Velek, his curly black hair now greyed by the grind of war, but he’d known no other way since a small lad, the left side of his cheek down to his jaw line bore a burn scar.
As the big man completed his stride and reach the summit he surveyed his surroundings.
The isle of Attrillias was a verdant land almost entirely covered in lush forest, difficult to assail due to a rugged rocky shoreline the landscape of which rose into hills and mountainous territory at its centre.
It was the timber, ore within the mountains and its strategic proximity to the Ophidian Empires shores.
The Eastern shore was now held by the Ophidian Legions and their sellswords, the pair of them watched as picket lines were moved forward to the hills and temporary fortifications quickly established.
The pair of them watched as the Prime Sergeant barked at his Corpsmen or subordinates marshalled the infantry, without turning Malc narrowed his eyes, breathed out and spoke
“How many do you think lair yonder”
Velek’s eyes did not leave the gnarled Prime Sergeant, who had noticed several sellswords and began to berate them, it was well known his dislike for them.
“I think there are many, usually the Barons flee like little dogs when the Legions arrive, not this time”
Malc smiled “just checked to see whether the thirst had dulled your wits”
Velek’s eyebrow twitched and he smirked, the pair of them heard the song upon the wind before they sensed another of their companions approach.
Tales of War - Velek Sturm The Early Years
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Tales of War - Velek Sturm The Early Years
The Attrillias Isles
2158 EA - The Age of The Emperor
The wind twisted around itself, weaving a tune reminiscent of the sea.
Velek turned to see the statuesque figure of Ciric Silverblade stroll up the path that wound down into the jungle, his tabard proudly displaying the icon of the ocean lord, his eyes shone an eerie green promising the cavernous depths of the sea.
“GOLD DOGS” roared Prime Sergeant
Malc watched as swords began to gather upon the summit, the previous night the Lords and Commanders had pitched their marquis on the hill, now orders were to be issued.
The most senior sword Obric Drolf, a great grizzled slab of a man, had arrived, although the Swords owed no loyalty to any other than their paymaster, Drolf was the closest thing they had to an elder.
Rubbing a gnarled hand over his bald head he turned his one good eye to Malc, a slight sideways nod of his head summoned him to Drolf’s side.
As he did another figure in a chainmail tabard, this man was of a swarthy Southern cast and a perpetual sneer, he nodded sourly at Malc, who in turn noted the colourful songbird that sat upon his shoulder.
The bird seemed to chitter and talk into the mans ear.
Drolf turned to Malc “Yer man Velek, you voucher for him” he said quietly
Malc thought for a moment, vouching was an important part of the mercenary code, a mans word endorsed the newly joined “Aye, this will be his Fourth Campaign, he has my sword!”
Drolf nodded slowly, chewed it over before his attention shifted to a younger man standing near Velek, Malc responded before the Sword Chief spoke again
“Him I do not know, no campaigns that I know of!”
“Unblooded” breathed Drolf thoughtfully
“A glory fool, who’ll cost us” hissed the birds keeper
Drolf’s eyebrow raised but he didn’t respond, “So he’s no business here if none’ll speak for him” hissed the man
The Sword Chief muttered beneath his breath “Why don’t you ask him then!”
“I will” snarled the man who stalked towards the young man, Malc attempted to gain Velek’s gaze but his fellow sword was regarding the rolling forests beyond them.
2158 EA - The Age of The Emperor
The wind twisted around itself, weaving a tune reminiscent of the sea.
Velek turned to see the statuesque figure of Ciric Silverblade stroll up the path that wound down into the jungle, his tabard proudly displaying the icon of the ocean lord, his eyes shone an eerie green promising the cavernous depths of the sea.
“GOLD DOGS” roared Prime Sergeant
Malc watched as swords began to gather upon the summit, the previous night the Lords and Commanders had pitched their marquis on the hill, now orders were to be issued.
The most senior sword Obric Drolf, a great grizzled slab of a man, had arrived, although the Swords owed no loyalty to any other than their paymaster, Drolf was the closest thing they had to an elder.
Rubbing a gnarled hand over his bald head he turned his one good eye to Malc, a slight sideways nod of his head summoned him to Drolf’s side.
As he did another figure in a chainmail tabard, this man was of a swarthy Southern cast and a perpetual sneer, he nodded sourly at Malc, who in turn noted the colourful songbird that sat upon his shoulder.
The bird seemed to chitter and talk into the mans ear.
Drolf turned to Malc “Yer man Velek, you voucher for him” he said quietly
Malc thought for a moment, vouching was an important part of the mercenary code, a mans word endorsed the newly joined “Aye, this will be his Fourth Campaign, he has my sword!”
Drolf nodded slowly, chewed it over before his attention shifted to a younger man standing near Velek, Malc responded before the Sword Chief spoke again
“Him I do not know, no campaigns that I know of!”
“Unblooded” breathed Drolf thoughtfully
“A glory fool, who’ll cost us” hissed the birds keeper
Drolf’s eyebrow raised but he didn’t respond, “So he’s no business here if none’ll speak for him” hissed the man
The Sword Chief muttered beneath his breath “Why don’t you ask him then!”
“I will” snarled the man who stalked towards the young man, Malc attempted to gain Velek’s gaze but his fellow sword was regarding the rolling forests beyond them.
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Tales of War - Velek Sturm The Early Years
The Attrillias Isles – Siege Hill V
2158 EA - The Age of The Emperor
Hanas Phantar was clad in midnight black light banded leather, his scraggy sandy coloured hair concealed a perpetual sneer of contempt, never the largest of men, he compensated for this by undermining anyone he perceived to be a threat and practicing being the quickest on the draw.
He sloped towards the fledgling sell sword, wrapping a studded leather strap around his fist, such tests were part and parcel of joining any band of swords, although the inexperienced often didn't survive their first encounter.
Hanas maneuvered through the throng, encircling the young warrior as to strike him from behind, there was no honor among the swords, a fact that brought considerable disdain from the Legionaries.
He ducked past the final warrior before his quarry, and darted in for a crippling kidney punch, however his target almost casually stepped to his right avoided the punch, before Hanas knew what had occurred an elbow smashed into his cheek sending him reeling.
Achan Orušân turned upon his would be attacker, Hanas shook the blurring of his vision and ringing in his ears off, at 6’4 Achan stood a foot taller than his attacker, so as Hanas bolted back onto his feet and charged he met the smaller man with a resounding downward cut to his face.
His knee swept up catching the man as he tumbled forwards, splitting his nose and sending his sprawling, Achan winced as a blow slammed into his lower back, something hard but flexible crunched across the back of his neck.
Watching the ensuing brawl the Prime Sergeant had turned a shade of deep beetroot, however before he interceded upon the hated mercenaries Drolf caught his eye, the glance was enough to strangely silence the Legion officer.
Achan stumbled strong legs and a fighters stamina kept him on his feet, blows reigned down upon him as three assailants proceeded to give him a beating, Hanas staggered to his feet, his face swollen, barely able to see, still the cur would pay with is life.
Hanas dagger hadn’t left its sheath before he heard the whistle, a sound almost like the air itself being cut, a cold draft struck him as an even colder blade slid beneath his chin.
“Call your dogs off!” came a low snarl
Hanas turned his bulging face towards a massive figure, the one called Sturm, “What concern is it of yers” he hissed
“Call yer fuckin dogs off now” snarled the big man
Hanas winced as Velek roared “CALL THEM OFF NOW!”
His three henchmen stopped, as Velek’s gaze turned upon them
Hanas spat a glob of bloody spittle on the ground, panting to catch his breath, his sneer turning into a smile “You know the code, he has no second, no one vouches for him, therefore he’s meat!”
Velek leaned in close to the Southling “After the beating he’s just given you I’ll second him!”
“What” snarled Hanas
“I SAID I’LL VOUCH FOR HIM”
Hanas blinked, Drolf looked at Malc who in turn frowned
“Your new yourself, spilt little blood with us, who are you to Second anyone” retorted Hanas a sense of triumph rising within him
“Brave for one with Anglachel at your throat” glowered Velek, Hanas began to grow uncomfortable as the big man seemed to now be talking with a sense of glee, almost eagerness!
“I vouch for Velek as you well know Hanas” said Malc with a tone that brooked no insolence
“Its done” commented Drolf signalling an end to the matter, as one the Sell Swords turned to the Legion officers who had assembled around a table in front of their tents.
2158 EA - The Age of The Emperor
Hanas Phantar was clad in midnight black light banded leather, his scraggy sandy coloured hair concealed a perpetual sneer of contempt, never the largest of men, he compensated for this by undermining anyone he perceived to be a threat and practicing being the quickest on the draw.
He sloped towards the fledgling sell sword, wrapping a studded leather strap around his fist, such tests were part and parcel of joining any band of swords, although the inexperienced often didn't survive their first encounter.
Hanas maneuvered through the throng, encircling the young warrior as to strike him from behind, there was no honor among the swords, a fact that brought considerable disdain from the Legionaries.
He ducked past the final warrior before his quarry, and darted in for a crippling kidney punch, however his target almost casually stepped to his right avoided the punch, before Hanas knew what had occurred an elbow smashed into his cheek sending him reeling.
Achan Orušân turned upon his would be attacker, Hanas shook the blurring of his vision and ringing in his ears off, at 6’4 Achan stood a foot taller than his attacker, so as Hanas bolted back onto his feet and charged he met the smaller man with a resounding downward cut to his face.
His knee swept up catching the man as he tumbled forwards, splitting his nose and sending his sprawling, Achan winced as a blow slammed into his lower back, something hard but flexible crunched across the back of his neck.
Watching the ensuing brawl the Prime Sergeant had turned a shade of deep beetroot, however before he interceded upon the hated mercenaries Drolf caught his eye, the glance was enough to strangely silence the Legion officer.
Achan stumbled strong legs and a fighters stamina kept him on his feet, blows reigned down upon him as three assailants proceeded to give him a beating, Hanas staggered to his feet, his face swollen, barely able to see, still the cur would pay with is life.
Hanas dagger hadn’t left its sheath before he heard the whistle, a sound almost like the air itself being cut, a cold draft struck him as an even colder blade slid beneath his chin.
“Call your dogs off!” came a low snarl
Hanas turned his bulging face towards a massive figure, the one called Sturm, “What concern is it of yers” he hissed
“Call yer fuckin dogs off now” snarled the big man
Hanas winced as Velek roared “CALL THEM OFF NOW!”
His three henchmen stopped, as Velek’s gaze turned upon them
Hanas spat a glob of bloody spittle on the ground, panting to catch his breath, his sneer turning into a smile “You know the code, he has no second, no one vouches for him, therefore he’s meat!”
Velek leaned in close to the Southling “After the beating he’s just given you I’ll second him!”
“What” snarled Hanas
“I SAID I’LL VOUCH FOR HIM”
Hanas blinked, Drolf looked at Malc who in turn frowned
“Your new yourself, spilt little blood with us, who are you to Second anyone” retorted Hanas a sense of triumph rising within him
“Brave for one with Anglachel at your throat” glowered Velek, Hanas began to grow uncomfortable as the big man seemed to now be talking with a sense of glee, almost eagerness!
“I vouch for Velek as you well know Hanas” said Malc with a tone that brooked no insolence
“Its done” commented Drolf signalling an end to the matter, as one the Sell Swords turned to the Legion officers who had assembled around a table in front of their tents.
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Tales of War - Velek Sturm The Early Years
The Attrillias Isles – Siege Hill V
2158 EA - The Age of The Emperor
The general was a man in his older years, his hair short and pepper grey, a rare creature who had survived countless battlefields, because of this he held the silence of the assembled Nobles who had bought their commissions and the Sell Swords.
He stood before a large parchment map laid out upon the top of a wagon, hard intolerant eyes swept across strutting nobles, Legion officers and impatient mercenaries.
“THESE ISLANDS ARE THE TERRITORY OF THE OPHIDIAN EMPIRE, THE SAFETY OF OUR COASTS, OUR FISHING TOWNS, OUR PEOPLE DEPEND UPON US HOLDING THEM, UPON US DRIVING THESE UPSTARTS FROM DRAYCON INTO THE SEA!”
He paused for the message to sink in, his expectation was that he would be greeted by silence and he wasn’t disappointed.
“FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO REGULARLY HAVE THE EMPIRES COIN CROSS YOUR PALMS, THE SECURITY OF OUR BORDERS IS YOUR PROBLEM AS MUCH AS ANY LEGIONAIRES”
His gaze met Drolf’s who held it, he raised his chin, he had command, the dogs would obey his word.
“THE BARONS FORCES ARE MARSHALLED ALONG THE NORTH ROAD, THEY HAVE DESTROYED THE BRIDGES THAT CROSS THE SOUTHERN HILLS, THE LEGION WILL MARCH ALONG THE NORTH AND ENGAGE THEIR FORCES!”
Drolf’s eyes narrowed and murmurs rose among the swords, the General smirked he fell silent as per the script his Junior officers began to marshal the Legions, the Nobles trotting off to their Cavalry.
The general now left with the Swords beckoned them closer, he addressed Drolf directly
“I need the Swords to cut through the Ithian Woods, take the old Ophidian Keep that lies ten leagues West and then attack the Draycon forces from the South”
He looked up from the map a raised eyebrow revealed his waiting for Drolf’s response, for his part the Elder Sword kept his gaze upon the map deep in thought.
“You want us to divide our numbers, part to the Keep and the remainder the assault?” he added finally
“Exactly, the Draycons will not expect a second offensive from the woods, hit them within the middle of their column, the Nobles will take their mounts and cavalry by boat to the footpaths hidden within the Northern peaks, from there they can skirmish the column while my Infantry shatters their line!”
The generals battle glee had risen to the surface, megalomania at its purest.
Drolf drew a gold chain from a leather pouch, wrapping it around his hand, but taking care to leave a loop hanging from his closed fist, he outstretched his arm.
The general snapped from his moment of mania, seized the loop of chain and pulled it taunt, the deal was struck, the swords loyal, the pair nodded and the General strode off.
As soon as the Imperial Commander had moved off, Drolf summoned Hanas, Malc, Ciric Silverblade and this time Velek “You all know this fer whut it is, the Swords always bear the brunt, so whut lies within thar Ithian” to emphasise his point he looked towards the sprawling forest that lay beyond.
Hana’s had not taken his gaze from Velek a murderous look upon him, Velek for his part disregarded the shorter man listening to the elder.
Drolf moved with the speed of a man a third his age, delivering a savage backhanded blow that lifted Hana’s off his feet, before he’d even landed the big man was over him pinning him to the ground with a large boot, leaning over him.
“Don’t insult me, I know the code better than anywun, you wer beat fair an square, now you listen or I’ll gut you you hear!”
“Yes” Hanas groaned weakly
Drolf leant on his captive to make his point, stepping off him he hissed “Get up!”
The group reconvened, Drolf frowned at Hanas before the latter began to talk
“We made our way some two leagues into the outskirts before we found them, more Wildones hidden in the trees”
“Numbers” replied Malc
“Hundreds!” replied Hanas “At least, perhaps thousands”
“Thousands” breathed Malc
“That’s why they they ask the Swords to besiege the woods” muttered Velek
“Aye but we’ve made ur bed” added Drolf solemnly
“There’s something else waiting also” added Cyric, the group looked at him, his strange glistening green eyes seemed to pulse like the tide travelling in and out.
“Wut” replied Drolf cautiously, he seemed to be wary of the Crusader
“I’m not sure my Slyph told me of other presences, waiting within the earth of the woodland!”
Before any of them could speak, a snake like column of water coiled up the Crusaders chainmail clade arm, its arm glowing with a greenish inner light.
“Each man her wull lead a phalanx of Swords” Malc nodded to Velek in approval
“The Wildones will try and attack from high in the trees”
“Then we’ll need to burn them out” replied Velek
“Aye, pick yer men, we move at sunshadow”
2158 EA - The Age of The Emperor
The general was a man in his older years, his hair short and pepper grey, a rare creature who had survived countless battlefields, because of this he held the silence of the assembled Nobles who had bought their commissions and the Sell Swords.
He stood before a large parchment map laid out upon the top of a wagon, hard intolerant eyes swept across strutting nobles, Legion officers and impatient mercenaries.
“THESE ISLANDS ARE THE TERRITORY OF THE OPHIDIAN EMPIRE, THE SAFETY OF OUR COASTS, OUR FISHING TOWNS, OUR PEOPLE DEPEND UPON US HOLDING THEM, UPON US DRIVING THESE UPSTARTS FROM DRAYCON INTO THE SEA!”
He paused for the message to sink in, his expectation was that he would be greeted by silence and he wasn’t disappointed.
“FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO REGULARLY HAVE THE EMPIRES COIN CROSS YOUR PALMS, THE SECURITY OF OUR BORDERS IS YOUR PROBLEM AS MUCH AS ANY LEGIONAIRES”
His gaze met Drolf’s who held it, he raised his chin, he had command, the dogs would obey his word.
“THE BARONS FORCES ARE MARSHALLED ALONG THE NORTH ROAD, THEY HAVE DESTROYED THE BRIDGES THAT CROSS THE SOUTHERN HILLS, THE LEGION WILL MARCH ALONG THE NORTH AND ENGAGE THEIR FORCES!”
Drolf’s eyes narrowed and murmurs rose among the swords, the General smirked he fell silent as per the script his Junior officers began to marshal the Legions, the Nobles trotting off to their Cavalry.
The general now left with the Swords beckoned them closer, he addressed Drolf directly
“I need the Swords to cut through the Ithian Woods, take the old Ophidian Keep that lies ten leagues West and then attack the Draycon forces from the South”
He looked up from the map a raised eyebrow revealed his waiting for Drolf’s response, for his part the Elder Sword kept his gaze upon the map deep in thought.
“You want us to divide our numbers, part to the Keep and the remainder the assault?” he added finally
“Exactly, the Draycons will not expect a second offensive from the woods, hit them within the middle of their column, the Nobles will take their mounts and cavalry by boat to the footpaths hidden within the Northern peaks, from there they can skirmish the column while my Infantry shatters their line!”
The generals battle glee had risen to the surface, megalomania at its purest.
Drolf drew a gold chain from a leather pouch, wrapping it around his hand, but taking care to leave a loop hanging from his closed fist, he outstretched his arm.
The general snapped from his moment of mania, seized the loop of chain and pulled it taunt, the deal was struck, the swords loyal, the pair nodded and the General strode off.
As soon as the Imperial Commander had moved off, Drolf summoned Hanas, Malc, Ciric Silverblade and this time Velek “You all know this fer whut it is, the Swords always bear the brunt, so whut lies within thar Ithian” to emphasise his point he looked towards the sprawling forest that lay beyond.
Hana’s had not taken his gaze from Velek a murderous look upon him, Velek for his part disregarded the shorter man listening to the elder.
Drolf moved with the speed of a man a third his age, delivering a savage backhanded blow that lifted Hana’s off his feet, before he’d even landed the big man was over him pinning him to the ground with a large boot, leaning over him.
“Don’t insult me, I know the code better than anywun, you wer beat fair an square, now you listen or I’ll gut you you hear!”
“Yes” Hanas groaned weakly
Drolf leant on his captive to make his point, stepping off him he hissed “Get up!”
The group reconvened, Drolf frowned at Hanas before the latter began to talk
“We made our way some two leagues into the outskirts before we found them, more Wildones hidden in the trees”
“Numbers” replied Malc
“Hundreds!” replied Hanas “At least, perhaps thousands”
“Thousands” breathed Malc
“That’s why they they ask the Swords to besiege the woods” muttered Velek
“Aye but we’ve made ur bed” added Drolf solemnly
“There’s something else waiting also” added Cyric, the group looked at him, his strange glistening green eyes seemed to pulse like the tide travelling in and out.
“Wut” replied Drolf cautiously, he seemed to be wary of the Crusader
“I’m not sure my Slyph told me of other presences, waiting within the earth of the woodland!”
Before any of them could speak, a snake like column of water coiled up the Crusaders chainmail clade arm, its arm glowing with a greenish inner light.
“Each man her wull lead a phalanx of Swords” Malc nodded to Velek in approval
“The Wildones will try and attack from high in the trees”
“Then we’ll need to burn them out” replied Velek
“Aye, pick yer men, we move at sunshadow”
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arcanus
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Tales of War - Velek Sturm The Early Years
The Attrillias Isles – Siege Hill V
2158 EA - The Age of The Emperor
We're going away to leave you now
Good bye, fare thee well
Good bye, fare thee well
We're going away to leave you now
Hoorah, me boys, we're homeward bound
Ah, give me the girl with the bonny brown hair
Your hair of brown is the talk of the town
So fare you we're homeward bound
Homeward bound to Macarant town
So fill up your casks for those who were kind
And drink to the girls we leaving behind
We're homeward bound I hear them say
We're homeward bound with eleven months pay
Our anchor we'll weigh, our sails we will set
The friends we are leaving we'll never forget
He stood upon the breakers watching the sea swirl and spit, tabard of aquamarine, singing his shanty, a homage to his primal lord.
The once man known as Silverblade listened to the sounds of the sea, listened as few men could, at dawn they began their assault cutting into the forests below the mountain that rose behind him.
Their odds slim his slyph had found untold numbers of creatures awaiting them, still the swords would shed a heavy toll that was certain.
Crouching he touched the grey waters, immediately a greenish blue light infused the surface and a large ripple spread.
Had someone looked upon his face they would have noticed that his eyes now shone even brighter than normally.
He sensed a current, one made by man, the bow of a boat cutting the waters looking north he spotted several large rowing boats cautiously hugging the rocks 'Dracian scouts' Ciric concurred
Despite his almost invisibility among the black rocks, a keen eyed scout spotted him and several arrows clattered across the higher cliff stone, a great spray of water erupted against the breakers hiding him as the archers tried to find their mark.
Silverblade searched around until he found the flattest stone he could, weighing it in his hand, he swung his arm out and cast, the disc bouncing across the ocean surface until upon its final skip it sailed over the boat.
As it had traveled the sea had become increasingly more choppy and rocked the rowing boats, its passage marked the water dipping beneath the bow of the nearest boat and a large swell washing in from its starboard side, flooding the beleaguered vessel and dumping its occupants into the turbulent waters.
The scouts began to shout their element of surprise lost, in answer to them sentry militia stationed with the swords began to rain arrows down upon them.
To an observer it appeared that Ciric bowed to the unfortunate scouts, in reality he paid homage to something far greater, nodding to the first militia who had clambered down the treacherous cliff face and made his way back to his tent.
The sound of the ocean lashing against the breakers was its reply.
2158 EA - The Age of The Emperor
We're going away to leave you now
Good bye, fare thee well
Good bye, fare thee well
We're going away to leave you now
Hoorah, me boys, we're homeward bound
Ah, give me the girl with the bonny brown hair
Your hair of brown is the talk of the town
So fare you we're homeward bound
Homeward bound to Macarant town
So fill up your casks for those who were kind
And drink to the girls we leaving behind
We're homeward bound I hear them say
We're homeward bound with eleven months pay
Our anchor we'll weigh, our sails we will set
The friends we are leaving we'll never forget
He stood upon the breakers watching the sea swirl and spit, tabard of aquamarine, singing his shanty, a homage to his primal lord.
The once man known as Silverblade listened to the sounds of the sea, listened as few men could, at dawn they began their assault cutting into the forests below the mountain that rose behind him.
Their odds slim his slyph had found untold numbers of creatures awaiting them, still the swords would shed a heavy toll that was certain.
Crouching he touched the grey waters, immediately a greenish blue light infused the surface and a large ripple spread.
Had someone looked upon his face they would have noticed that his eyes now shone even brighter than normally.
He sensed a current, one made by man, the bow of a boat cutting the waters looking north he spotted several large rowing boats cautiously hugging the rocks 'Dracian scouts' Ciric concurred
Despite his almost invisibility among the black rocks, a keen eyed scout spotted him and several arrows clattered across the higher cliff stone, a great spray of water erupted against the breakers hiding him as the archers tried to find their mark.
Silverblade searched around until he found the flattest stone he could, weighing it in his hand, he swung his arm out and cast, the disc bouncing across the ocean surface until upon its final skip it sailed over the boat.
As it had traveled the sea had become increasingly more choppy and rocked the rowing boats, its passage marked the water dipping beneath the bow of the nearest boat and a large swell washing in from its starboard side, flooding the beleaguered vessel and dumping its occupants into the turbulent waters.
The scouts began to shout their element of surprise lost, in answer to them sentry militia stationed with the swords began to rain arrows down upon them.
To an observer it appeared that Ciric bowed to the unfortunate scouts, in reality he paid homage to something far greater, nodding to the first militia who had clambered down the treacherous cliff face and made his way back to his tent.
The sound of the ocean lashing against the breakers was its reply.