HS&S:WT Short
Sep. 27th, 2008 07:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sabremeisterA bit of ancient history here, just five weeks from when I'll be making a start on the next book.
The Syllikuns had made their stand at the top of a low ridge, just a few miles from their capital, and now only, city. They numbered only one full legion and its supporting cavalry and slingers, plus the remnants of the other legions that the Northern Alliance had defeated over the past two years, and several thousand conscripted refugees, peasants and farmers caught up in the wake of the Imperial retreat. Unfortunately, the surviving troops were now very good at fighting, and the Legio I Sylliku was the best the Empire had. However, after their year-long fighting advance, the Northern Alliance’s own troops were also very experienced.
The Commander-in-Chief surveyed the battle lines drawn up against his force. As far as he could tell, and from the information his scouts and mages had been able to report, the enemy at the top of the ridge numbered maybe 500 more than his own force of Elves, Dwarfs and Humans. He considered this good. His men were more experienced than the rabble that made up half the Sylllikun’s troops, and they had a clear superiority in projectile weapons – about a third of their entire force, thanks largely to the Elves, compared to the Syllikun’s maybe eight-score slingers. He had no reason to doubt his usual tactics would not work.
The Syllikun General surveyed the army arrayed against his forces at the bottom of the hill. He had his only reliable troops, the Legio I Sylliku, lined two deep along the top of the ridge, with the conscripted peasantry behind them. His flanks were protected by all his cavalry and slingers, and he held the composite legions in reserve. He knew what his opponent would try, which he had elected to make the stand here, and his view of the enemy’s lines confirmed it. Lines of Dwarven warriors in front, with Humans behind them, and Elves and more Humans to either side. Behind them all, a mass of archers and Elven bowmen, and protecting the flanks, cavalry. The Alliance’s archers had a longer range than his slingers, so in order not to get pin-cushioned, he’d stood at the top of a shallow hill to reduce their effective range, and ordered his mages to conjure up a headwind for them. He’d reminded his Tribunes that they were not to advance more than ten yards under any circumstances – the Alliance typically slaughtered the legions with arrows, and when they’d tried to close with them, their broken and reduced ranks were easy pickings for the Dwarfs and their allies, the Human ceorls and huscarls. Well, not this time. Let them come to him. A march uphill, with no arrowstorm to thin the Legion’s ranks ahead of them, and the Legio I Sylliku would take them apart.
The arrows began. Many fell short, but there were still enough to drop a dozen men in the front ranks in the first volley. After a mere two minutes, close to a hundred men had been hit. The General looked around. He passed the order for all units except the cavalry and slingers to withdraw fifty yards behind the crest. It some time for the order to filter through the ranks, by which time the Legio I Sylliku had suffered even more. The composite legions at the rear pulled back first, followed almost immediately by the rabble. The suffering Legio I had to endure a few minutes more before they could pull back. The General nodded in relief and looked towards the enemy lines. The Alliance archers had stopped shooting, but the infantry were making no move to advance. Relief turned to puzzlement.
In the Alliance lines, the Commander-in-Chief peered at the recently vacated hilltop. He knew they couldn’t be retreating after so short a bombardment, and besides, the enemy cavalry was still in place, along with their slingers. They were baiting him, trying to goad him into advancing up the hill and getting taken apart. He gave some orders, and a few minutes later, the archers opened up on the Syllikun cavalry.
The Syllikun General watched as his precious cavalry began to be cut down. He screamed orders, two aides galloped forward, and the two flanking companies of cavalry withdrew beyond the ridge. The slingers, alone and isolated now on the edges of the field, began to get nervous. They began to spread out, edging sideways towards cover, and back towards the crest. There was movement from the Alliance lines – a handful of their cavalry had started moving. The slingers began to back faster. Below, the cavalry picked up pace, surged forward, taking the hill at a run. The slingers broke, and the cavalry reined in, and returned to their lines before the Syllikun cavalry could counter-attack. There was more movement in the Alliance lines. A company was coming forward – from the haphazard look of their armour, they appeared to be Orcish mercenaries. They were closely followed by thirty huge, dark shapes. Gerignaks – earth elementals, Summoned by the Dwarven mages in the Alliance army. They were hugely strong, incredibly tough, and could easily decimate a Century. The General passed some more orders, and the slingers stopped cowering behind the Legio I long enough to come forward and lie behind the crest. They started laying down a barrage, picking off the advancing Orcs. But they had been too late in getting into position. The Orcs broke into a run, and tore into the slingers, who tried running again. The Gerignaks right behind the Orcs ran straight over the fleeing slingers, and the General signalled frantically for the Legio I to come forward. The Orcs mopped up the slingers who were too slow, and turned to charge the oncoming legion. The General screamed two words, repeated them. Frantic signals were waved, and the rabble ran forward behind the legion. There was a brief clash, the Orcs retreated, the Gerignaks with them. The Legio I Sylliku followed. More than ten yards. They appeared on the skyline, and the archers below let loose a volley. Most of the Legio stopped, but a Cohort on the right carried on down the hill. The Dwarfs stood up, readying their axes. The Cohort ran after the Orcs, down the hill, as the archers peppered the rest of the Legio I on the hilltop. The Orcs reached the Dwarfs, and turned. The Cohort died. The rabble surrounding the rest of the Legio I on the ridge lost its’ head. Without an order, without reason beyond avenging the deaths of the best of their army, they came down the hill.
The Alliance Commander-in-Chief saw the rabble run down the hill. It was fragmented, disordered, hindered by both their poor discipline, and the professional soldiers trying to hold them back. He signalled, and the cavalry spread out on the flanks. The rabble met the Alliance at the bottom of the hill, and died. The cavalry closed in behind them. That any in the rabble survived was due solely to the headlong charge of the Syllikun cavalry, sent to pull them back. The Gerignaks went back to work, the assisting in the battle between the two cavalry forces. Eventually, the Syllikun forces pulled back up the hill, leaving more than half their number at the bottom, dead or dying. The Commander-in-Chief held his men back, re-ordered them. The skyline was clear, the mauled Legio I Sylliku had retreated out of range of the arrows. He issued his orders. The Elves stayed where they were, the rest of the army advanced up the hill. The Human archers stopped halfway up and began shooting blindly over the crest. The cavalry covered their flanks, as the rest continued to climb. The Northern Alliance soldiers made the top of the hill, and stopped. The Syllikun General had brought his reserves forward, arraying them immediately behind the reduced Legio I. They were being assailed by the arrows from below, and losing men. The Commander-in-Chief turned and signalled the archers to stop. Then he turned again, raised his sword. He walked to the centre of the line. He dropped his sword, and he led the charge that slammed into the waiting Syllikuns like a hammer. They buckled, closed in, split, were flanked, fell back, broke, and ran. The remains of the Syllikun army followed.
By sunset, the Alliance Commander-in-Chief had a tally of the dead in front of him. He was pleased. Less than 400 of his own troops were dead, and about the same number were wounded – maybe a hundredth of his force out of action. There were over 3,000 Syllikun dead, and another 2,000 wounded - a third of the force he’d faced that morning, dead, dying or prisoner. From the hilltop he could see, maybe three miles away, the walls and towers of the Imperial capital, the city of Sylliku, the source of the armies that had swept across the lands north and east of here fifty years ago. Within a week it would be dust and rubble, its’ population dead, slaves, or fled, just like the Empire had done to many of the cities it had conquered. Then, the Alliance Commander-in-Chief thought to himself, they could go home and deal with the demon whose rampages had given him the time and space in which to first raise his army.
But first – Sylliku, and the loot it offered. He gave the orders that would set them marching at first light.
Five days later, and the Alliance’s preparations were complete. The city was surrounded, a battering ram had been constructed, and everyone knew it would be the final battle. The Commander-in-Chief of the Northern Alliance rode forwards with his generals under a white flag. He stopped within shouting distance of the walls, and called for the Syllikuns’ surrender. They did not oblige. The Commander and his generals rode back to the Alliance lines, and signalled the attack.
All around the city, the Alliance archers shot their bows at the walls. As the arrowstorm began, some of the defenders panicked. About half of the rabble who had survived the last battle threw down their arms, and ran. They poured out of the postern gate, jumped from the walls into the ditch, and fled. The Alliance army let them go, but those in the city who were too slow were set upon by the elite guards of the city, and were cut down like dogs.
The massacre ended when the Alliance mages played their card. The earth shook, the walls of the city trembled. The postern gate was blocked by rubble, and the main gateway shook itself askew. The ram advanced on the main gate. It was carried by forty strong men, under a framework covered by wet hides, carried by another twenty men. They ran to the gate, the ram struck home, and the now barely-supported gate collapsed. The Alliance’s cavalry charged into the gateway, and held it open as the rest of the army began pouring towards the opening. The soldiers came inside, and began the slaughter. The Syllikun army was trapped, with no way out. The surviving cavalry units from old battles tried to charge out of the gate and escape, but they were cut down and killed. All the units of the Syllikun army were mauled by the infantry of the Alliance attackers, and only the Legio I Sylliku ended the day with more than half their number still upright.
At day’s end with the Syllikun’s beaten, and the victorious Northern Alliance army in possession of the city, the Commander-in-Chief sent forth a proclamation. The Syllikun Empire would reap what it had sown. The citizens, women and children of Sylliku would be taken into slavery. The conscripted soldiers would be crippled. The regular soldiers would be executed. The city would be burned, demolished, and burned again. The surrounding countryside would also be burnt, and all the burnt land would be sown with salt. The cripples would then be sent as heralds to all the known lands, to report on what had befallen their arrogant empire. And the burning would begin at midnight. The Alliance troops would wait outside the gates to make sure only civilians escaped through them – the rest would burn.
Ancient History
The Syllikuns had made their stand at the top of a low ridge, just a few miles from their capital, and now only, city. They numbered only one full legion and its supporting cavalry and slingers, plus the remnants of the other legions that the Northern Alliance had defeated over the past two years, and several thousand conscripted refugees, peasants and farmers caught up in the wake of the Imperial retreat. Unfortunately, the surviving troops were now very good at fighting, and the Legio I Sylliku was the best the Empire had. However, after their year-long fighting advance, the Northern Alliance’s own troops were also very experienced.
The Commander-in-Chief surveyed the battle lines drawn up against his force. As far as he could tell, and from the information his scouts and mages had been able to report, the enemy at the top of the ridge numbered maybe 500 more than his own force of Elves, Dwarfs and Humans. He considered this good. His men were more experienced than the rabble that made up half the Sylllikun’s troops, and they had a clear superiority in projectile weapons – about a third of their entire force, thanks largely to the Elves, compared to the Syllikun’s maybe eight-score slingers. He had no reason to doubt his usual tactics would not work.
The Syllikun General surveyed the army arrayed against his forces at the bottom of the hill. He had his only reliable troops, the Legio I Sylliku, lined two deep along the top of the ridge, with the conscripted peasantry behind them. His flanks were protected by all his cavalry and slingers, and he held the composite legions in reserve. He knew what his opponent would try, which he had elected to make the stand here, and his view of the enemy’s lines confirmed it. Lines of Dwarven warriors in front, with Humans behind them, and Elves and more Humans to either side. Behind them all, a mass of archers and Elven bowmen, and protecting the flanks, cavalry. The Alliance’s archers had a longer range than his slingers, so in order not to get pin-cushioned, he’d stood at the top of a shallow hill to reduce their effective range, and ordered his mages to conjure up a headwind for them. He’d reminded his Tribunes that they were not to advance more than ten yards under any circumstances – the Alliance typically slaughtered the legions with arrows, and when they’d tried to close with them, their broken and reduced ranks were easy pickings for the Dwarfs and their allies, the Human ceorls and huscarls. Well, not this time. Let them come to him. A march uphill, with no arrowstorm to thin the Legion’s ranks ahead of them, and the Legio I Sylliku would take them apart.
The arrows began. Many fell short, but there were still enough to drop a dozen men in the front ranks in the first volley. After a mere two minutes, close to a hundred men had been hit. The General looked around. He passed the order for all units except the cavalry and slingers to withdraw fifty yards behind the crest. It some time for the order to filter through the ranks, by which time the Legio I Sylliku had suffered even more. The composite legions at the rear pulled back first, followed almost immediately by the rabble. The suffering Legio I had to endure a few minutes more before they could pull back. The General nodded in relief and looked towards the enemy lines. The Alliance archers had stopped shooting, but the infantry were making no move to advance. Relief turned to puzzlement.
In the Alliance lines, the Commander-in-Chief peered at the recently vacated hilltop. He knew they couldn’t be retreating after so short a bombardment, and besides, the enemy cavalry was still in place, along with their slingers. They were baiting him, trying to goad him into advancing up the hill and getting taken apart. He gave some orders, and a few minutes later, the archers opened up on the Syllikun cavalry.
The Syllikun General watched as his precious cavalry began to be cut down. He screamed orders, two aides galloped forward, and the two flanking companies of cavalry withdrew beyond the ridge. The slingers, alone and isolated now on the edges of the field, began to get nervous. They began to spread out, edging sideways towards cover, and back towards the crest. There was movement from the Alliance lines – a handful of their cavalry had started moving. The slingers began to back faster. Below, the cavalry picked up pace, surged forward, taking the hill at a run. The slingers broke, and the cavalry reined in, and returned to their lines before the Syllikun cavalry could counter-attack. There was more movement in the Alliance lines. A company was coming forward – from the haphazard look of their armour, they appeared to be Orcish mercenaries. They were closely followed by thirty huge, dark shapes. Gerignaks – earth elementals, Summoned by the Dwarven mages in the Alliance army. They were hugely strong, incredibly tough, and could easily decimate a Century. The General passed some more orders, and the slingers stopped cowering behind the Legio I long enough to come forward and lie behind the crest. They started laying down a barrage, picking off the advancing Orcs. But they had been too late in getting into position. The Orcs broke into a run, and tore into the slingers, who tried running again. The Gerignaks right behind the Orcs ran straight over the fleeing slingers, and the General signalled frantically for the Legio I to come forward. The Orcs mopped up the slingers who were too slow, and turned to charge the oncoming legion. The General screamed two words, repeated them. Frantic signals were waved, and the rabble ran forward behind the legion. There was a brief clash, the Orcs retreated, the Gerignaks with them. The Legio I Sylliku followed. More than ten yards. They appeared on the skyline, and the archers below let loose a volley. Most of the Legio stopped, but a Cohort on the right carried on down the hill. The Dwarfs stood up, readying their axes. The Cohort ran after the Orcs, down the hill, as the archers peppered the rest of the Legio I on the hilltop. The Orcs reached the Dwarfs, and turned. The Cohort died. The rabble surrounding the rest of the Legio I on the ridge lost its’ head. Without an order, without reason beyond avenging the deaths of the best of their army, they came down the hill.
The Alliance Commander-in-Chief saw the rabble run down the hill. It was fragmented, disordered, hindered by both their poor discipline, and the professional soldiers trying to hold them back. He signalled, and the cavalry spread out on the flanks. The rabble met the Alliance at the bottom of the hill, and died. The cavalry closed in behind them. That any in the rabble survived was due solely to the headlong charge of the Syllikun cavalry, sent to pull them back. The Gerignaks went back to work, the assisting in the battle between the two cavalry forces. Eventually, the Syllikun forces pulled back up the hill, leaving more than half their number at the bottom, dead or dying. The Commander-in-Chief held his men back, re-ordered them. The skyline was clear, the mauled Legio I Sylliku had retreated out of range of the arrows. He issued his orders. The Elves stayed where they were, the rest of the army advanced up the hill. The Human archers stopped halfway up and began shooting blindly over the crest. The cavalry covered their flanks, as the rest continued to climb. The Northern Alliance soldiers made the top of the hill, and stopped. The Syllikun General had brought his reserves forward, arraying them immediately behind the reduced Legio I. They were being assailed by the arrows from below, and losing men. The Commander-in-Chief turned and signalled the archers to stop. Then he turned again, raised his sword. He walked to the centre of the line. He dropped his sword, and he led the charge that slammed into the waiting Syllikuns like a hammer. They buckled, closed in, split, were flanked, fell back, broke, and ran. The remains of the Syllikun army followed.
By sunset, the Alliance Commander-in-Chief had a tally of the dead in front of him. He was pleased. Less than 400 of his own troops were dead, and about the same number were wounded – maybe a hundredth of his force out of action. There were over 3,000 Syllikun dead, and another 2,000 wounded - a third of the force he’d faced that morning, dead, dying or prisoner. From the hilltop he could see, maybe three miles away, the walls and towers of the Imperial capital, the city of Sylliku, the source of the armies that had swept across the lands north and east of here fifty years ago. Within a week it would be dust and rubble, its’ population dead, slaves, or fled, just like the Empire had done to many of the cities it had conquered. Then, the Alliance Commander-in-Chief thought to himself, they could go home and deal with the demon whose rampages had given him the time and space in which to first raise his army.
But first – Sylliku, and the loot it offered. He gave the orders that would set them marching at first light.
Five days later, and the Alliance’s preparations were complete. The city was surrounded, a battering ram had been constructed, and everyone knew it would be the final battle. The Commander-in-Chief of the Northern Alliance rode forwards with his generals under a white flag. He stopped within shouting distance of the walls, and called for the Syllikuns’ surrender. They did not oblige. The Commander and his generals rode back to the Alliance lines, and signalled the attack.
All around the city, the Alliance archers shot their bows at the walls. As the arrowstorm began, some of the defenders panicked. About half of the rabble who had survived the last battle threw down their arms, and ran. They poured out of the postern gate, jumped from the walls into the ditch, and fled. The Alliance army let them go, but those in the city who were too slow were set upon by the elite guards of the city, and were cut down like dogs.
The massacre ended when the Alliance mages played their card. The earth shook, the walls of the city trembled. The postern gate was blocked by rubble, and the main gateway shook itself askew. The ram advanced on the main gate. It was carried by forty strong men, under a framework covered by wet hides, carried by another twenty men. They ran to the gate, the ram struck home, and the now barely-supported gate collapsed. The Alliance’s cavalry charged into the gateway, and held it open as the rest of the army began pouring towards the opening. The soldiers came inside, and began the slaughter. The Syllikun army was trapped, with no way out. The surviving cavalry units from old battles tried to charge out of the gate and escape, but they were cut down and killed. All the units of the Syllikun army were mauled by the infantry of the Alliance attackers, and only the Legio I Sylliku ended the day with more than half their number still upright.
At day’s end with the Syllikun’s beaten, and the victorious Northern Alliance army in possession of the city, the Commander-in-Chief sent forth a proclamation. The Syllikun Empire would reap what it had sown. The citizens, women and children of Sylliku would be taken into slavery. The conscripted soldiers would be crippled. The regular soldiers would be executed. The city would be burned, demolished, and burned again. The surrounding countryside would also be burnt, and all the burnt land would be sown with salt. The cripples would then be sent as heralds to all the known lands, to report on what had befallen their arrogant empire. And the burning would begin at midnight. The Alliance troops would wait outside the gates to make sure only civilians escaped through them – the rest would burn.
