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The Fall of Burgh 2 Months, 2 Weeks ago
Ok so I've written a short(ish) story based around a game I played a few weeks back. Thought I'd post it here to get some feedback as to how it could be improved.
here goes!
Sir Ponsonby stared incredulously at the exhausted squire stood in front of him. As if the Civil war and the restless dead weren’t enough to deal with now the vile rat men had invaded his lands. Wearily he rose from his chair and called to his chamberlain “Thomas rouse the men. I will need all of our Knights Errant and as many Men at Arms and Archers as can be spared.” Thomas responded with resignation “there will be few enough men to spare my Lord, already we are stretched terribly thin covering the lands of my Lords Turnbull and Beattie but I shall prepare what I can.” With this he bowed low and strode from the hall. Sir Ponsonby dismissed the squire and made his way to his Solar where his servant would be waiting with his armour.
The last few months had been difficult for all Bretonnians. The terrible Civil war between the King and his bastard son had devastated the land leaving villages burnt and families torn asunder. To compound matters no sooner had the Usurper been brought low and the land returned to almost normality than a vast army of the dead had ridden rough shod over every army that opposed it. Burning the abbey of La Maisontaal. The land was in chaos and there were few Knights left to defend it.
Sir Ponsonby strode out into the morning air to inspect his small retaliatory force. He had seven Knights errant, all of them little more than boys, raised well before they were ready. Their Cavalier and Standard bearer were his own youngest two sons. His eldest two had fallen in the civil war whilst his current heir rode with Louen Leoncouer to aid the Empire. Thomas had managed to muster ten men at arms; all of them grizzled veterans of many battles and ten of the village’s finest bowmen. It wasn’t the most glorious of forces but it would have to do. “Men of Brugh, our lands have been beset by yet another foul foe, we are all that stands between these vile fiends of chaos and our families and loved ones, if we should fail it will be a dark day indeed for Burgh. Do your duty as you know it, obey your vows, trust to the Lady and we shall be victorious!” He mounted his noble steed and led the small force out of the castle and into the village beyond.
The villagers turned out to pay their respects to the lord and to say good bye to their husbands, sons and brothers. As he rode through Sir Ponsonby eyed the hastily erected defences, since the troubles started he had ordered a large palisade to be erected around the village and Thomas had conscripted every able bodied male villager into the newly formed militia. Sir Ponsonby hated arming the peasants but he had little choice. With 3 domains to protect now his regular forces were stretched and exhausted.
Just over a league from the village they found the ratmen. The invaders had stopped next to a mist wreathed marsh. Sir Ponsonby could see two large blocks of troops; they wore little armour but were carrying shields and crude hand weapons. He estimated that there were 30 or 40 in each block and each seemed to be led by a larger more heavily armoured rat.
“Robert, take your archers to the left flank, put the marsh between you and them and place your stakes. John I want your men at arms next to the archers protect their right flank. I’ll take the Knights and hold our right.” He knew it was risky but such small units of peasants would struggle to make any impact upon the large groups of the enemy. “Now then boys remember no one moves until I give the order, there’s no room for impetuous young hot heads today.” With that he took the Knights errant out onto the right flank directly opposite the rat men. He called a halt and dismounted, the knights errant followed suit and they all offered up a prayer to the Lady asking for her blessing and protection. Whilst they prayed the Skaven started the rapidly advance. A small unit of darkly clad Skaven appeared on Sir Ponsonby’s left flank opposite the bowmen, whilst the two large units of Skaven started to advance. Robert fletcher was in charge of the bowmen today, a veteran of numerous battles although no yeoman. Seeing twelve rat men bearing down on him rapidly, he ordered the bowmen to fire and smirked with satisfaction as he saw three of them fall with whit fletcher arrows buried in their flesh.
No sooner had Sir Ponsonby and the Knights errant remounted than the young knights began to show their restlessness “easy now boys, we can’t go charging straight into their front, the other unit would surely charge our flank.” “But my Lord these wretched creatures are no match for true born knights of Bretonnia. We should charge them now, crush them under our hooves and wheel back into the rear of the other unit; they’ll soon flee from our righteous wrath!” “Calm yourself Charles; we cannot simply rely upon crushing them on the charge.” It was no use however Sir Ponsonby could see that the young knights agreed with his son Charles, their cavalier. Before he could stop them the young knights were off and he was swept along with them as his warhorse followed the others. Resigning himself to the charge he hoped that it would be enough to break the first enemy unit. If it was not then they were surely doomed.
Seeing the knight’s glorious charge, Robert smiled to himself.” Now these beasts will feel the wrath of Bretonnia” he thought to himself. Just then he noticed that the small unit of skaven in front of him had broken into a run and were charging his archers. He gave the order and a ragged volley lashed out at the night runners and three more fell dead. It wasn’t enough however and the deranged beasts leapt onto the stakes in front of the archers and then set about them with staggering ferocity. Robert ducked as a knife flashed at his head, he drew his dagger and moved to strike the skaven in front of him, as he struck he felt a searing pain in his side, looking down he saw that the creature had a knife clasped in its tail and the blade was buried deep in his side. Before he could even cry out in pain another dagger plunged into his neck.
John thatcher had been a Man at Arms for 20 years now, never before had he been placed in charge and he dearly wished that his cousin Ronald, their Warden was here to take charge. Seeing the Night Runners attacking the archers he ordered his small troop to turn to face the enemy. Before they’d even had chance to reform John could see it was already too late. Every single archer was dead, hacked stabbed and gutted by the crazed beasts that had surrounded them. Fear started to build in John’s stomach and he could see it in the eyes of his men too.
The Knights crashed into the first enemy unit with a resounding crash, their impact crushing bodies under their horses whilst their lances punched through rotten shields and rusted armour, over a dozen Skaven had fallen in that charge and only one knight had fallen to the halberd of the Skaven warlord. Such a glorious charge should have shattered the enemy and sent them fleeing the field, but there were too many of them. With their impetus lost the knights became bogged down. Cursing Sir Ponsonby decapitated the creature in front of him whilst his warhorse lashed out keeping the others at bay. He was desperately trying to see the other enemy unit, praying that it would be unable to join the fight. He was to be sorely disappointed. The second unit of clan rats smashed into the long flank of the Knights, completely surrounding them and cutting off any escape. Sir John issued a challenge to the Skaven warlord but it merely slipped away from him pushing a sacrificial wretch into the knight instead. The knights fought bravely but they were woefully outnumbered and over half them were pulled from the saddle and hacked to death in the first few moments following the skaven charge. Young Charles was cut down by one of the skaven warlords, with Sir James, Ponsonby’s oldest friend and personal standard bearer, being pulled down soon after.
Realising all was lost Sir Ponsonby tried to sound the retreat but young Alasdair the units bugler was lying on the ground choking on his own blood even as the skaven stabbed him to death. Desperately Sir Ponsonby fought his way over to his youngest son Phillip, who still proudly held onto the Knights standard. “Phillip you must get away from here, ride home and warn them of our defeat, prepare the castle and the village to…” “NO Father I WILL NOT flee from my enemies I am a Knight of Bretonnia I……” “Knight be damned boy; get back to the castle or everyone will die, all of our peasants whom we are sworn to protect, your mother and your two sisters. You are now the Lord of Burgh until your brother returns from the Empire, if he returns. Take my Sword and ride as fast as you can. You must save the village. Now GO!” With that Sir Ponsonby gave Phillip's horse an almighty smack and the beast shot off back toward the castle. Sir Ponsonby roared an incoherent war cry and set about him with gusto slaying skaven left and right.
John saw the knights charge fail, he saw his Lord surrounded and the young knight making a desperate bid for freedom, he glanced at the night runners which were now stalking towards and his men. He turned to his friend Oliver and simply stated “bugger this for a game of soldiers, I’m off.” Turning tail he fled, swiftly followed by the rest of the Men at arms.
Seeing the Men at arms flee the field Sir Ponsonby knew he was doomed. He only hoped that Phillip would make it back in time to prepare the defences and raise the militia. Turning back to the melee he felt his horse shift from under him, suddenly he was on the ground, his horse thrashing on top of him as it was gutted by the rat men. Suddenly one of the skaven warlords appeared at top the dead horse. Snarling with hatred Sir Ponsonby lashed out with his sword. The skaven twisted to avoid the blow and used the momentum to swing it’s halberd toward Sir Ponsonby smashing into his collar bone and severing his noble head from his shoulders.
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