Rain, again, it never stops, mud clings to everything, gray and sticky, staying the progress of those trying to pass. The river had spilled its banks the night before washed away most of the tents. Horses had broken picket lines and makeshift corrals to run for higher ground and had wondered far in the wet never ending night.
Armour slogged down and worry about rust was promoting most to dry and dry themselves manytimes a day. It was cold and wet and miserable, the injured were falling into bad health and the wagons were too bogged down to move. Without cover, transport, or any sign to the end of this miserable weather, spirits were getting low.
Holding the line was becoming an impossiblity as the soldiers prepared to make their last stand. The waters at their feet as they hugged the bank swords drawn they could hear the approch of the other side. The heavily armoured horses making the wet ground tremble, steam rising from their hot breath hitting the cold air making them look like black demonds arising from the mists.
Whos war was this anyway' The question rose in every mind as they stared down the monsterous horses as they approched, and they prepared to hold their ground. No one stirred, no one ran, no one dared. Where would they go just to be run down by those monsterous hooves.
The yell to charge was heard over the din of the rain and the small line of soldiers watched the solid line of black suddenly bore down on them, the sound like rolling thunder.
"Hold the line!" A yell went up as they rose their swords and what few pikes they had went up into the path of the charge and every man prepared to die. No one noticed the lazily circling falcon over head, and a sudden break in the storm as the rain ended and a shock of sunlight brought a hesitation in the chargeing line, a small break formed before the charge rung out to full strength again.
"Hold the line," the yell was repeated, this time louder to be heard over the closing mounted men. Time seemed to stand still for a minute, the sun for a second obscured by what seemed to be a moving cloud, then suddenly the front row of men and horses fell clearing a large swath in the charge as the tightly knit pack found themselves unable to get out of the way of the bodies of their fellow men, soldiers and horses fell in the mud and bodies.
Weary down truben and confused soldiers turned to look for their saviours. A line of mounted men, seemed more like children, to young and small to be soldiers, when they realised who had arrived, gray with mud from days of travel nonstop the elven soldiers were almost unrecognisable except thier size and bow strung tight losing another volley and the opposition fell back in chaose retreating from what should have been an easy kill.
The line of elven horses broke making their way down the wet muddied earth, amoungst their ranks the missing horses. What once would have been a white mare seperated from the pack, her armoured flanks heaving from days of hard gallops. The blond elven male pulling her up at the commanders sides as the falcon dropped through the sky to land on his out streached arm.
"They'll be back," were his only words.
Armour slogged down and worry about rust was promoting most to dry and dry themselves manytimes a day. It was cold and wet and miserable, the injured were falling into bad health and the wagons were too bogged down to move. Without cover, transport, or any sign to the end of this miserable weather, spirits were getting low.
Holding the line was becoming an impossiblity as the soldiers prepared to make their last stand. The waters at their feet as they hugged the bank swords drawn they could hear the approch of the other side. The heavily armoured horses making the wet ground tremble, steam rising from their hot breath hitting the cold air making them look like black demonds arising from the mists.
Whos war was this anyway' The question rose in every mind as they stared down the monsterous horses as they approched, and they prepared to hold their ground. No one stirred, no one ran, no one dared. Where would they go just to be run down by those monsterous hooves.
The yell to charge was heard over the din of the rain and the small line of soldiers watched the solid line of black suddenly bore down on them, the sound like rolling thunder.
"Hold the line!" A yell went up as they rose their swords and what few pikes they had went up into the path of the charge and every man prepared to die. No one noticed the lazily circling falcon over head, and a sudden break in the storm as the rain ended and a shock of sunlight brought a hesitation in the chargeing line, a small break formed before the charge rung out to full strength again.
"Hold the line," the yell was repeated, this time louder to be heard over the closing mounted men. Time seemed to stand still for a minute, the sun for a second obscured by what seemed to be a moving cloud, then suddenly the front row of men and horses fell clearing a large swath in the charge as the tightly knit pack found themselves unable to get out of the way of the bodies of their fellow men, soldiers and horses fell in the mud and bodies.
Weary down truben and confused soldiers turned to look for their saviours. A line of mounted men, seemed more like children, to young and small to be soldiers, when they realised who had arrived, gray with mud from days of travel nonstop the elven soldiers were almost unrecognisable except thier size and bow strung tight losing another volley and the opposition fell back in chaose retreating from what should have been an easy kill.
The line of elven horses broke making their way down the wet muddied earth, amoungst their ranks the missing horses. What once would have been a white mare seperated from the pack, her armoured flanks heaving from days of hard gallops. The blond elven male pulling her up at the commanders sides as the falcon dropped through the sky to land on his out streached arm.
"They'll be back," were his only words.