Camdorian assault on The Hallow Fields

Attempt on the Scouting Outpost
Fog rolled silently across the still swamp pits scattered across the Hallow Fields, as the haunted nothingness was obliterated with the thudding of heavy feet on the soft soil. Squelching and splashing echoed across the flats as the Camdorian forces moved quickly toward their first Imperial target. They had reports of the location of a scouting headquarters on a small knoll near the north-east outskirts of the fields. They wanted to hit hard, and fast - before the Imperials had a chance to mobilize a real defense. As the knights and paladins stormed the swamps, with the skirmishers, barbarians and casters scattered amongst them, the target came in to view. A few dim torches, and a wooden palisade surrounding a large wooden hut. The Royalists picked up the pace, approaching within 100 meters of their target, when suddenly a horn sounded!

Imperials leaped from shrubs, popped up from hidden trapdoors and sallied from the hut as the Camdorian captains signaled for a column formation. Arrows came hurtling in, and decimated the casters, the paladins, contesting the unstable grounds the fields offered, fought bravely, but gave way under the heavy Imperial infantry assault. Chaos erupted as the Royalists were put down with little chance to even ready themselves. The few who fought their way to solid ground were captured, and the rest fled to the north.

Sir Felix listened to the Royalist screams, the clashes, and then the Imperial calls of victory. He looked back at the bulk of his encampment, then at his strategy team, who were wringing their hands and looking at the battleplans. He scrunched his face up and walked toward the table.

"This plan of yours better work... Those were good soldiers..."

The Second Prong
The swamps of the Hallow Fields sat still, reflecting the glint of moonlight from the two moons of Markoth. The guards sat in their fox holes, blinking slowly whilst shifting their dreary gaze from bulrush, to dead tree. "Don't you lot fall asleep, you're our wake up call" came a voice from toward the campsites. The guards turned around to see their captain, turning in for the night, his replacement passing him and walking to the foxhole to the south of the camp.

The guards looked at each other and nestled into their blankets. The Hallow fields got cold at night, the desolate flats carrying chilling winds that cut to the bone. As the guards drifted off to sleep, a thump awoke them both. They snapped to attention, eyes darting back and forth, looking for movement. Another thump behind them. They glanced at each other, then behind them to see what was making the noises. One of the guards hopped out of his hole to investigate. Another thump caught both of their attentions as they looked down to see an arrow with black and blue fletching. Darkmoor.

One of the guards opened his mouth and cupped his hands to alert the campsite, as he breathed in to call, an arrow ripped through the back of his neck and out his mouth. He slumped to the ground. The other guard stared, stunned as the sounds of many footsteps approached the foxhole. He came back to reality as Camdorian knights flanked the southern fox hole, watching them kill the guard silently before the alarm could be raised.

He jumped up, narrowly being missed by another arrow. He turned, screaming with everything in his being... "IMPERIALS! ENEMY AT THE GAAA-".

The battle was quick, the Imperial forces woke up with barely enough time to gather their weaponry. The defensive positions fell quickly as close to 600 Royalist soldiers encircled and burned the storage silos located at the forward base. The scattered ~200 Imperials decided on a hasty evacuation west, grabbing what little they could. The Royalists raided supplies, but found little. They burned the position, to prevent the Imperial recapture, and marched north to make another attempt to take the scouting headquarters. Meanwhile, up north, the Imperial forces had defended the scouting HQ, but had realized holding the smoldering wreckage would render little benefits against an established force. Under the commands of Imperial officers, they packed every supply they could manage, and headed south-west, to potentially reach the supply camp and help them fortify their position.

The Killing Fields
The Royalist forces were marching their way toward the Imperial scouting headquarters to the north. Sir Felix - chuffed with the resounding victory of the second prong, looked on with a smile as he surveyed the Royalist caravan, marching onward with confidence and yet trepidation. They were marching north toward a target which was well guarded, and had killed many of their friends. Tensions were high. Sir Felix rode his horse to the rearguard of the convey, to see Reigar and Zartonius, in full plate armour and knee deep mud trying to help force a cart laden with wheat out of the mud. As Felix went to dismount, a horn sounded near the front of the formation. Calling and shouting could be heard as Felix, Zartonius and Reigar exchanged nods and headed for the front.

The Camdorian forces had happened across the caravan of Imperial soldiers, laden with supplies! The Imperials doubled their pace to move toward the salvation of the wall, as the Camdorians broke convoy to attack the vulnerable targets. Imperial arrows loosed on the formation, as the Camdorian skirmishers attempted to cut off escape. The Silvelion Command contingent, led by Sir Donald Greyback rushed to provide a defensive position in a small ruin, whilst the Imperial hounds - lead by General Roland le Mondfor, moved to shield the convoy. Both sides prepared for a clash as arrows peppered each formation, dropping people into the still swamp. General Roland called out to Sir Donald to hold their position, no matter what. Sir Donald slammed his visor down and raised his shield as the Camdorian line slammed against their formation. Screams and cries of agony rang out as the clashing of steel rent the air. Sir Felix dismounted, drew his blade and called for his knights to form on him, as he strode quickly across the soft soil, slaying anyone in his path as he bee-lined for the caravan.

As the battle intensified and the true weight of Royalist forces bore down on the retreating Imperials, Sage Hound gave the call to fall back. The Hounds resumed rear-guarding the Caravan, as the Camdoria n, Darkmoor, and now Bloodmoon forces struck hard at the failing lines. General Roland looked back with a heavy heart watching the Silvelion Command forces still holding the building he commanded them to, slowly becoming surrounded by a sea of green, yellow, and blue.

Sir Felix surveyed the fight, seeing the Imperial caravan out of archery range and called off the chase, realising their supply lines were becoming exposed the more they chased. He was in this for the long haul, they had a prize, and he was not leaving without it.

The Gatehouse
The central of five gates on the Hallow wall came into view, as the Imperial forces stumbled and staggered forwards. They were exhausted from the two-day non-stop supply laden march from their fight with the Royalists, and had suffered many casualties along the way due to both the treacherous landscape, and the Darkmoor archers picking off anyone who stopped to recover. The lookouts on the wall noticed the tattered Imperial flag waving frantically at the front of the group, sounding the alarm and demanding the gates open to allow for assistance. The gates lurched to life as soldiers began armouring and gathering weapons to help defend the weary Imperials.

As the imperials rounded a large body of water, they heard the familiar sound of rattling armour behind them. The Camdorians had caught them! General Roland ordered the supplies move quickly to the gate, and the wounded be carried first. One of his soldiers turned to him.

"General, you go ahead with the convoy, let us hold them off and buy you some time." He turned and looked at the enraged Royalists, closing distance quickly.

"No, I'll stand with you all. We never separate a Hunt." The Hounds formed a line, slowly moving backwards as the supplies trickled toward the gate.

There was lull in the noise for Roland, then suddenly, the slamming of shields and armour filled his ears as Royalist knights plowed into the side of the Imperial shields. Roland was knocked down in a rush and went to the ground underneath a Darkmoorian knight. He wrestled underneath the knight and grabbed his dagger, shoving it deep into the neck of the soldier and covering them both in blood. Soldiers ran in all directions as the formations fell apart, and The Camdorian front sprinted forward to strike at the panicking Imperials. The Hounds surrounded their general in shields, picking him up and shuffling toward the gatehouse, the supplies abandoned for the Royalists to pillage. Out of the nearly 200 soldiers approaching the gate, 16 made it to safety.

The Scars of Versano
Sir Felix sat at the edge of the siege camp. The night air was cold, sharp, and foul. He could feel the chill of it rushing underneath his plate. He watched closely as the torches atop the Hallow wall rushed back and forth, desperately trying to prepare. Brandon and Aeronwen Fletcher came to sit either side of the General, his gaze wandering to the crumbling ruins which represented the last remaining reminder of Versano.

"I wonder if this will be our last night. If we will have fought all this way for nothing" Felix said, squinting at the ruined buildings as if trying to listen to them.

"Not likely, we've made it this far for a reason, Sir, We will be with you for many more days beyond tonight" Said Brandon, trimming the fletching on the last of his arrows before slipping it into his quiver.

A soft voice came from behind the three, causing the mall to turn quickly. "Sir, We have completed construction of our siege engines.. the assault is ready on your command..."

Sir Felix stood, and walked with the siege engineer toward the row of fleshly constructed catapults they pointed toward the gatehouse. He stood in front of the assembled team, each engineer looking nervous and anxious for what was about to unfold.

"Rain hell on them, bring that gate down!" He screamed, with the engineers filing behind the catapults and firing at the gatehouse. The first strikes ran true, striking the gate with full force, and sending shards of wood in every direction. Sir Felix looked at the gate with a spyglass, lowering it and looking behind him to the engineers frantically reloading. "Again!"

Another volley was fired, Felix could hear orders being screamed atop the wall. "AGAIN!", they fired. "AGAIN!!!" Another volley. Felix watched a lump of stone fly through the air and strike the gate, breaking one of the doors to the ground. He turned to face the Royalist army, standing next to the catapults, ready and waiting. He cleared his throat.

"Royalists! Camdorians! Friends!

Tonight we eliminate the blight of the imperials upon this sacred land.

Three armies before you have tried. Three armies have broken upon these walls." Felix could see the soldiers bowing their heads, looking saddened and disheartened.

"12,000 of our comrades fought bravely on this field, never to see the light of the morning sun.

Let us not make their sacrifice in vain. We just broke their walls!!" A cheer rang out through the ranks, as some soldiers began slamming their shields with their swords with pride.

"Together, we will push them back! For victory! For the Alliance!" A battle cry echoed across the fields, as The Royalist forces charged toward the open gate. Imperial forces sallied from the gate to meet them. Archers loosed arrows, soldiers threw rocks and bricks from the walls, and shields slammed and clattered against each other. Fighting for each inch with every fiber of their beings, the Royalists pushed through the gatehouse and into territory no Royalist had set foot in for almost 300 years. The fight was fierce, and Sir Felix grew confident as he led the shields out the other side of the wall and began cutting down the support lines for the Empire. He pressed the attack out toward the Imperial tents, set up nearly 50 meters from the gate, The Imperial lines scattering.

Suddenly, a horn blast pierced through the sounds of battle, as the Imperials rallied against the Royalist advance. The Hound garrison mixed with a furious Silvelion Command unit came barreling in and crashed against the unprepared Royalists, halting them in their tracks. Felix gave orders, and screamed for support as the shield wall fell, and the gap to escape back to safety began to close. He turned, fending off three fierce hounds, and then General Roland himself as he tried to retreat back to the gate. "Royalists! Fall back! Regroup! REGROUP!" he shrieked, seeing Reigar take a sword to the arm, drop his axe and retreat with the rest.

The Royalist forces gathered at their siege camp, just outside archery range as the Imperial cries of victory chimed out across the field. Sir Felix stood hunched in defeat, his blood-soaked tabard glistening in the moonlight.

They had broken the gate, they had even passed through, but the Imperials had held their ground. For now, they would go no further.