The Battle of Islay (Samheen 27th )

[Doran]

Doran stood still for moment trying to regain his composure. Made a quick check all in while trying to catch his breath. He looked at himself and saw no arrows sticking out of his body. He was quite surprised by this bit of news, but had no time to dwell on it . At that moment he saw his chance to join the count. He saw an opening in the melee and took it. The count had just parried the clansman spear sending it and the clansmen to Doran's left.

With that Doran raised his axe and swung it toward the clansman right thigh trying to maneuver himself to Count's left side.

In back of his mind he hoped Tin and the rest of his squad are ok and if they were they would soon be here to help the Count.

[Guest]

Enzirou withdrew his sword again and addressed the rest of the group ," Are going to attack them from behind and surprise them or are we going to charge head on and try and break through, what ever we do we need to hurry up and decide because Doran and the count both need our help".

[Vanadius]

Tin's wound was deep and painful, but the hale youth managed to stand with the help of the others. It was obvious that he was out of the fight at this point, as the pain and loss of blood left him ashen and stricken.

It was easy to creep in upon the flanks of the attacking clansman as they were, to a man, engaged with the Count and his men. Their attention was centered and focused ahead, and any would be easy targets for attacks.

From this vantage point, their numbers could be estimated at a mere fifteen or twenty against the thousands that had marched from the city. There was no way they could win the day with such numbers, so they were formed into a tight group now, fighting their way towards the Count and determined to strike the head off the beast that had invaded their ground.

Doran's strike found it's mark, and his axe bit a deep wound into the highlander's leg, nearly severing it completely. The man went down screaming, and the hardy warrior found himself standing to the Count's immediate left.

The camps left behind were in complete and utter disarray. Soldiers sought out their commanders, only to find them dead in their beds. Fires and smoke could be seen in every direction, making the camps look battered and destroyed. Chaos and confusion reigned.

[Guest]

Enzirou looked at tin with concern in his eye's, " Tin we need to get you somewhere safe". He glanced over at Phill and Vale, " Once we get Tin to safety we should attack from behind, Phill you should lead us at that point since your the stealhiest and the best scout out of all of us here". Enzirou's mind was a blazing fire , the clanmens sudden attack and all the confusion had set his spirit alight, "This is what it feels like to be a true warrior" he said to himself.

[Phillinie]

Having left Tin by their ruined tent, Phill pressed on toward the last remaining push by the clansmen. He was concerned tat he had not seen, or even heard Ymir or their new corporeal since this attack began. If they're not dead, well have time enough after this to find them. Best see to the Count first, he thought to himself. Phill proceeded quickly as little stealth was necessary with the clansmen attention turned toward the Count. Only about a score of clansmen were left but only one was needed for a fateful blow. remembering the carnage of the encampment a few days ago, Phill was not planning on letting any of them get the chance. With knives in his hands he approached the first fur cloaked clansmen from behind. Phill looked to those that had followed him up and gave a gesture that was meant to mean follow my lead. With any luck the small troupe would be able to kill several and break through the clansmen. similar to his last attack, phill planned on stepping hard on the back of his opponents knee and draw both blades across his neck.

[Guest]

Enzirou followed Phill's lead and drew his sword as quietly as he could. The silver glinted menacingly and Enizrou emptied his mind using his inner calm. He quietly snuck up behind the clansmen several metres away from the one Phill was targeting. He readied himself to grab the clansman from behind and stab him through the back.

[Doran]

(If clansman fell backwards and was laying in front of Doran this what he will do.)
Doran hearing the screams of the Clansman in front of him,brought his axe up and swung it in a downward arc to finish the clansman off quickly.

(If the clansman fell forward to Count's right or is he successful in finishing off the Clansman this is what Doran will do.)

Doran turned his attention to the oncoming Clansmen hoping he buying his comrades time to get here. His mind turned to arrows bouncing off his armor hoped they would make it here unscathed. He looked up at the Count, well he still alive for the moment anyways. If I die here at least no one can say I haven't earned my keep in this war.

[Guest]

Tin was hurt bad but did not scream or cry out loud except for a soft sobbing, which sounded strangely pitched. The youngster pulled its knees up and laid almost fully behind the rather large wood and iron shield it had with him. The arrow showed to Vale to have hit Tin on a rather thin path of quilt. Vale noticed the quilt showed a small red colour near the shaft of the arrow. Tin had trouble not slumping in as shock and blood loss sank in; warm blood ran down his back staining his shirt and creeping into the undies…

Soft coughing could be heard coming from Vale who now made sure his studded suit was proper. He decided not to join his friends and took with Tin refugee near a few boxes, sacks and their own packs. Moving them around he could make a small fort like kids do when playing archer and knight. Vale was going to defend Tin with his short bow even thought an aspiring apprentice at most… Leaving Tin alone would be asking for that the first clansman to murder the poor lad. The bowyer planned to lay a suppressive fire against clansmen on foot while cowardly hiding behind the containers around him. Cheap shots with cheap arrows… he only had a lot of hunting arrows and also a few better ones he swiped from the archery range some days back. He could not let such a good cook die... fried tomatoes was one of the most favourite vegetables Vale had ever ate.

[Vanadius]

OOC: Ok guys. Need a bit more from you in your posts. This is an important event! Taz is a writing game. Tell us what your characters are thinking and feeling in addition to what they are doing. Try to expand your post to at least 3 paragraphs each. If you have any questions or something is unclear, let me know and I'll edit to clarify for you. There are a lot of people reading this. Let's make it fun and interesting for them!


IC: The clansman fell to the side of his wounded leg like a tree being chopped down. Doran's following strike finished the man off in a gush of blood as his axe cut a deep wound into the soft flesh of his neck and shoulder. The man went suddenly silent as Doran ended his life and sent him to meet his Gods.

Meanwhile all around him, the remaining clansmen continued their assault on the Count, intent on ending his reign. From their vantage point, it was easy to spot how the army from Dort was closing in on them. That they would not survive the assault was clear, the only question remaining was if they were going to get to him or not.

Enzirou and Phillinie enjoyed the luxury of having the man they were stalking be distracted and engaged by several other mercenaries and members of the army. The men would be easy to pounce on and grab from behind at any moment.

Tin and Vale seemed secure enough as they watched the final throes of the clansmen as they continued their ambush. From their vantage, it was plain to them that there had only been roughly a score of men in the ambush in the first place. This had not been an all out assault. This had clearly been a suicide raid to end the lives of the commanders of the army. Suddenly, neither felt very secure or confident that they would survive this war.

[Guest]

Enzirou continued to analyse the clansman he was about to attack. He crept behind the clansman following his exact movements, "I need to time my attack right, he's fighting so many opponents that he contantly switching his attack from one soldier to another". He continued to follow the clansmans movements then quickly looked at Doran bringing down his axe on a clansman, "At least Dorans alright, he 'll just have to hold on until we break through". Dried blood began to flake revealing the menacing silver of Enzirou's sword. His eye's locked onto the clanmans head, "One blow,one strike to the head will end his life". The thought brought several sickening images of bloodied and broken clansmen with his head cracked open, with rivers of blood gushing forth to the front of his mind.

Cold sweat crept down the his back and he froze in his track, the image was so vivid that Enzirou could feel his gut twisting and writhing in fear and disgust.He clasped his head and began to take deep and laboured breaths,he then began to envision a dark,cool, quiet place where time stood still and where sunlight could not reach. This image pushed all other thoughts, images and feelings to the wayside leaving only the determination to survive this battle and the rest of the war no matter how gruesome it may be. He then brought his sword over his shoulder and charged at the clansman in an attempt to end his life with one fatal blow to the head.

[Doran]

Doran removed his axe from man's throat and backing up a step. He prepared himself for the next clansman. Trying his best to defend himself and the Count from oncoming attacker's. At first he tryed to mentally prepare himself for the next assault and to plan his next move. The longer the battle went on though he was not really thinking anymore. He was just reacting and falling back on his training and instinct.

If someone swung down on him he would raise his axe up with one hand on hilt and one by the head using it some what like a staff to block. Then he would in return send hard kick to groin back to his attacker all in while holding him off. If man would fall toward him he follow up with his axe to side of his attacker's head . If his attacker went backward he would turn his attention to the nearest clansman.

All in while he wondered were his comrades were and hoped they were still alive. For one moment he thought they might have been over ran ,but pushed the thought out of his head. They would be here soon he told himself and to stop thinking like that.
Doran's father's voice spoke up like it often did. You just worry about yourself and the Count. Those lads can handle themselves just fine. Probably better than yourself if all be told.
With that thought Doran fought harder his hope renewed.

[Phillinie]

Phill was never one to pass up an open opportunity. He attacked his opponent from behind. Phill looked over to Rou who was ready to strike. "The Bastard better not freeze up this time", he said to himself remembering the time not so long ago where he failed to get a shot off when it counted. Not wanting to get in the way of his partners attack, he decided to strike more from the flank. Phill attempted to Kick hard to the side of the knee with a short downward stroke. And knife strikes to the kidneys. The armor was still new to him and he did not want to take an chances with fancy maneuvers.

Not seeing or hearing Ymir in this fray was beginning to bother him. It would be hard to mis that large man swinging Esmarelda. Both his size and loud nature stand out among men. Phill certainly hoped that he had survived the clansmens early morning raid.

If Phill is successful disabling his attacker he will press forward and engage the next clansmen he sees, attempting to move in closer to protect the Count.

[Vanadius]

So intent was the Clansman on the enemies in front of him, he failed to notice any of the enemies behind him. Enzirou's sword came down hard and nearly split his skull in two. Blood fountained from the mortal wound and spattered everywhere. As if that were not bad enough, Phillinie's kick broke the man down and as the mortally wounded highlander stumbled, Phil's quick thrusts into his back with his knives ended the man once and for all. Afterwards, the few remaining Clansmen were surrounded and falling quickly, leaving little or no opportunities to strike other enemies.

Through the haze and blur of the fighting Doran found himself suddenly without an enemy to fight. With the exception of a few straggling conflicts that were being put down as fast as his eyes could travel from one to the next, the enemy ambush had been quelled and the attackers were all dead or dying before their eyes. The immediate threat was now over.

A ragged cry went up from the main army, a throaty and desperate sound of men who had fought and lived, and were celebrating life against death.

The Count looked to Doran and clapped him on the shoulder warmly.

"Well fought. My thanks to you for your assistance. Let's see where we stand now." It was a statement of a man who was not used to fighting for his life, and was perhaps a bit unnerved by the attempt on his life as well as those who served under him. The Count simply assumed that Doran would follow and offered no further comment.

A eerie silence filled the camps after the outcry and clash of battle. Soft, quiet voices could be heard here and there as the army went about searching for surviving officers and tending to the wounded.

Captain Marten and the other dead commanders were laid out in a grim row. All in all, by the time everyone was accounted for, nearly forty men had been slain in their sleep or during the raid, leaving many of the companies without an immediate leader. Loose bands of men began to collect as known associates began to cluster together without much organization. Although the bulk of the force still lived and was relatively unharmed, they found themselves without the benefit of real leadership, leaving many with the feeling that going forward was a useless exercise.

A few began to shout and make claims, asserting themselves as the new leaders over their units. Fights began to break out, creating a feeling of chaos.

Of Ymir, there was no sign. His pack, his weapons, all of his gear had vanished with the man himself.

[Guest]

Blood splattered Enzirous armour and face. He stood silent as the fighting slowly simmered down into harm less embers. The warm blood slowly crept down his face as the image of the dying clansmen invaded his mind. In an attempt to wipe the blood off of his face Enzirou ended up smearing from his left cheek, then bridge of his nose and then over to his right cheek.

He looked down at his sword as the blood slid effortlessy off the dull silver blade. He bent down and wiped the blood off of his sword and onto the grass. He then sheathed the blade and looked at Phill, " Lets go and check on Vale and Tin, I saw Doran with the Count so we'll probably see him back at the tent later ". His voice was seemingly void of emotion, the stress of battle had taken it's toll, "I need a rest before something else happens, this new me suits the battlefield but otherwise it has no use anywhere else I need to revert back to the old me".


Toughts,images and memories began to flood his mind as the effects of his inner calm slowly loosened it's grip. He left the battle field as anarchy began to rule, he stopped and saw how the soldiers in each group began to fight for leadership over their comrades, " Nothing like this will occur between myself, Phill,Vale,Tin and Doran, we'll need to work as a cohesive unit if we're going to make it out of this one alive". He then set off back to the site where Vale had been left to protect Tin.


Enzirou eventually made it back to camp where he noticed that Vale had built a small fort, "I hope Tin's alright". He approached the fort where he saw Vale poised to attack any clansmen, "Vale the battle's over with the clansmen but our own soldiers are fighting amongst themselves so we better stick to together as we might be forced to choose sides if serious fighting breaks out". Looking over at Tin, Enzirou decided to try and begin to sort out his injury and when the others arrived they could help, " Tin how serious is your injury? We should try sort it out now before it gets any worse". He stopped and looked behind him to see if the others were coming he then turned back to Tin and continued his conversation, " I'm not too good at first aid but maybe you can guide me along".

[Phillinie]

The battle had ended and the adrenaline that had focusing Phill’s actions started to ebb. He looked over the campsite. The small group of clansmen had certainly caused a lot of damage with their morning sneak attack. Many more of the Count’s men had fallen or were missing than Phil expected from such a small raiding party. Many of the tents hade been razed to the ground and damage to a great deal of equipment. The camp looked in disarray. Enzirou’s speaking brought Phill out of his thoughts.

“Yes it would be a good idea to check on Tin and our equipment. See if you can find him and check on his wound. We will probably need to get him over with the other wounded to see a healer for that hole in his shoulder. I think I will do a little investigating before I come on down. There are several clansmen here and throughout the camp. They may have a information on them to indicate a their faction . We are going to need as much info about our enemy as we can if we are going to be of help around here. Looks like they were able to take out a lot of our senior people. I even heard that Marten is dead. Tell Tin, Vale and anyone else in our party that I will be down shortly.” As he was speaking Phill cleaned his daggers on the clothing of his fallen enemy and placed them back in their sheaths. “If this is anything like when I was on my ships, they may also be sorting out the fallen men’s possessions, particularly the mercenaries. There maybe an opportunity to trade up equipment or find something useful to help us through the rest of this campaign. Without a Captain, we will have to take care of ourselves in this matter.”

With that, Phill began searching the fallen clansmen bodies for clues. He was specifically interested to see if the same colors found on these clansmen matched those of the brutal butchers he found before. Phill was looking for signet rings, piercings, clan colors, tattoos, written parchment, anything that may give more of a clue on the enemy. Phill was not one to overlook spoils of war, but it was not his focus at the moment. Phill planned on searching the slain clansmen group that was near the count. This looked to be a major part of the raiding party and a good chance to have some information. After searching these bodies Phill planned on making his way down to where he had left Tin and Vale.

[Guest]

Vale had been standing steady from his secured point armed with a bow ready to fire upon any clansman daring enough to attack him. Time passed but nothing happened, he could see the battle had been pushed towards the count. The young achadhiel could only feel relieve but then noticed many a noise from combat; screams, clatter and sounds of carnage. It took a while before he saw a friend return from battle. He could not see Phillinie or the stoic dwarf with his shiny plate. In his mind he was certain the dwarf was steady and fine as no arrow from a bow could pierce such a plate he wore. Still the light equipped Phil was a different matter.

The archer looked relieved at the sight of Enzirou breathing calmer even though he looked a rather bloody companion in the face. “Are you wounded… the blood on your face…” Vale’s eyes widened as he heard of battle between the soldiers and an uneasy look appeared upon his face. “Mutiny? Rebellion? What is this about? Where are our companions?” The confusion was great as he heard of an armed rebellion; truly after an attack was it not wisest that everyone stuck together?

Tin was slumped down leaning against a barrel face pale as a ghost but still conscious. Everything about the youth was done with decelerated actions, even his breath was slower then one might suspect. It was impossible to determine how severe the wound was or if Tin suffered from shock or simple blood loss. Stuttering the pale youth started to talk with a painful voice. “Not good… feel blood drip… My back…” It took a lot of effort for the young one to speak and Vale noticing this quickly stepped in before needing an answer on his previous questions. “Tin is hurt bad and the arrow is very deep in perhaps almost piercing through till the other side. We need a good healer and soon too else I doubt Tin will see the end of the morning.” Hopping up a bit Vale kept using his hideout as a safe point especially after hearing of revolt between the ranks. “We need the healer we saw earlier the Adhiel, he can surely make Tin feel better if you can’t find him try anyone who had adequate medical knowledge. I know a bit of the basic and will prepare things here, find the others and get a healer fast!” The words were sincere and Vale was worried knowing his circus patch cuts and clean wound skill was by far not enough to stop Tin from slowly bleeding till death.

[Doran]

Doran turned and prepared himself for next clansman attack. He stood there dazed a moment then it hit him there were no more attackers. He looked over the encampment and saw last few free standing clansmen fall. Smiling in spite himself he couldn't help he had survived and so did the (turning quickly to check on the Count) Count. He sighed with relief in the melee he had forgotten about the Count and was just trying to live through the assault.

He bent down and examined the Red headed man he slew. Looking through man belonging's he began to feel guilty. I'm no better than a carrion he thought. Rifling over this man like buzzard picking over a dead animal. Nonsense his father's voice erupted in his head spoils of war Doran. You must take of yourself. I'm no longer there to help you when times get bad. No and your not even here now Doran thought ,but continued to search the man. He felt a little better doing what he was doing ,but still twenge of guilty.

Wiping off some the blood that was on his axe on the clansman shirt. He stood there a moment realizing the Count was talking to him. He looked up and the Count had and arm on his shoulder thanking him for his help and telling him he fought well. He looked at the Count started to say it was duty and honor to fight beside him ,but his voice failed him and so he just nodded. He started to ask to go back to his squad ,but the Count told him to follow him. Doran not arguing followed and hoped the rest of his comrades were still alive.

Doran followed the Count observing him for moment he appeared uninjured. He was little surprised at that .Seems the Count is a better fighter than I would have give him credit for. Doran made mental note to remember that. He turned his attention at his surrounding. Looking over the surviving groups. He saw a few them squabbling saying they are now in charge. A few yelling that it was hopeless and they should head back. If Count doesn't get handle on this quick he likely to lose control completely Doran thought.

Looking at the carnage Doran thought only a few did all this damage. He wondered if Count going to try to save face and go on or turn and go home with his tail between his legs like wipped pup. What ever his decision Doran thought I will go along with it. Just hope it's the right one he thought.

[Guest]

"Don't worry I'm not wounded". He looked over at Tin and saw how weakened he was, "That s the problem of being mortal...death awaits at every turn". He touched himself in the same place that Tin was wounded and cringed slightly. Enzirou stood for a moment trying to remember who this Adhiel healer was, "Healer I don't remember seeing a healer". Worry edged into his eye's and he glanced at Vale, " Doran is with the Count and Phill is looking for clues on who this group of clansmen were, do what you can to help Tin while I try and find a healer". He looked back at the ghost-like Tin with worry in his eyes, "Try and hang on my friend we won't allow you to die"

He turned around and looked over the razed camp and then the battlefield. Men were fighting for leadership over their comrades and others were looting the bodies of the fallen clansmen,he sighed looking over all the combatants, "At this rate the clansmen will tear us apart". He thought about how the clansmen could easily attack and beat the army,with it weakened and destroying itself. The image of the clansmen marching into Dort flashed briefly in his mind but then the image of the injured Tin pushed the other image aside. He sighed and then sped off to find a healer.

After running for awhile Enzirou stopped,panting heavily. He struggled up and placed his hands on his lower back, "How am I going to find a healer in all this commotion". He swivelled round to see if a healer was anywhere, "Wait let me check the battlefield". He knocked his head with his hand sarcastically and then sped off towards the battlefield where the army was tearing itself apart.

[Vanadius]

A healer was not difficult to find. Several in fact were working together in a concentrated area in laying out the dead, and tending to the wounded. There was still enough organization and order to have these men and women organized in a common area.

It was here that Captain Marten and the other dead commanders were laid out. A grim and sobering reminder of the toll of war.

The Count led Doran throughout the encampment as he surveyed the damage of the ambush. It was on this tour that a lieutenant approached the Count and reported. The young lieutenant nervously saluted, and the Count stopped short to listen intently.

"My Lord, I am Lieutenant Willows. I have taken control of my unit with the death of Captain Howard, and I believe we may have discovered something as to the identity of our attackers. If you will follow me sir."

Willows led the Count and Doran to a spot not too far away from where Vale, Tin, and Phillinie were. Several of the men stopped arguing long enough to listen as the Count grew near. The spot Willows led them too was at the body of the clansman that Enzirou and Phillinie had killed first. Willows crouched near the body, and pointed at a beaten copper Torc around the man's neck.

"See this sir? Copper is rare commodity in this area. And look here..." He said as he pointed to the white streak in the highlander's tartan kilt.

"White was only used by one Clan sir. But that's the part that makes little sense. That Clan was MacGregor, and according to some of the men from these parts, the MacGregors were wiped out in a Clan war a few Yahren back. It is said they retreated up into the highest, most remote parts of Islay sir. The survivors of the war were reported to be mostly old women and children my Lord. It seems those children have grown up and have come down from the high mountains sir. One of men told me there were led by a crazy priest called Milkhaire. They're fanatics sir. Milkhaire was by far the worst of all. His people follow him like a God. If these are all Clan MacGregor, we've just entered a Holy War. "

The Count looked on, his jaw clenched in grim contemplation.

"Gather up the bodies of all the attackers. See if they are all wearing this tartan pattern and wearing copper. Willows. You are now officially commissioned as a Captain. Assemble a new company and..."

A shout rose up, interrupting the Count. Tense soldiers gripped their weapons and prepared for a new assault. It was not an attack, but an outcry of something discovered. Willows led the Count over to the where the commotion was coming from.

One of the soldiers had found something. It was a sword thrust into the cold earth and a ragged sheet of parchment that the blade had been thrust through fluttered in the morning breeze. On the parchment were names and rough descriptions of all the commanders in the muster. The sword itself was chilling to the likes of Vale and Tin who watched with rapt interest.

The sword was recognizable to many in the outfit, and revealed a mystery that until now had eluded many.

The sword was Esmerelda.

[Guest]

A cry went up from the soldiers and Enzirou thought that they were coming under attack from more clansmen. He drew his sword and saw that there was no fighting and that the cry ahd been from a soldier who'd found Captain Ymir's sword, Esmerelda .

Enzirou rushed down to where the sword was and pushed his way to the front of the large group of spectators who were eyeing the sword and the parchment in a mixed look of curiosity and anger. He bent down and looked at the parchment reading the names of all the captains that had been slain.
Looking up at the blade a mingled look of anger and sadness crept onto his face, " Captain Ymir the traitor, I never thought he'd do such a thing". He reached out to grasp the sword but then quickly drew his hand back, " It's not mine to take and besides the Count needs to look at this". He then stood up and pushed his way back through the crowd of soldiers so he could find a healer.

After several short moments of fruitless searching Enzirou saw that the dead soldiers were being laid out in one area, "Healers". He rushed over and the process stepped over several bodies which were being carefully laid out, those doing the grim task of laying out the bodies gave him dark and angry looks but Enzirou did not particularly care. He eventually found a healer and grasped the healers arm desperatly, "Excuse me my friend is injured, he may not last much longer if his injury is not tended to" .

[Guest]

Vale’s eyes widened when the morning light revealed something he could not believe but had too. Ymir sergeant, trainer and coach had betrayed the muster giving the officers on a silver platter to the maniacal clans. Tin’s look was rather blank coughing softly whilst tears streaming down the cheeks. Shaken the blue eyes gazed upon the scene for a slight second forgetting the pain placed into the shoulder. It did how ever return with a vengeance and Tin could be heard moaning then slumping in and passing out. Vale screaming, “HELP” loud in the direction Enzirou had headed of too. It wouldn't be hard for Phillinie to hear this shriek as well, even though there were a lot of sounds coming from the surroundings near him.

The healer’s arm Enzirou grasped was that of a young man named Ivan who had just recently started making his shift from messenger to assistant healer. Ivan was hardly qualified to do much then handle the bandaging and refreshment of wounds. Enzirou grab of the startled red haired youth made a frightened look disturbed him in his attempt at making clean bandages from simple white cloth. “By the winds do not… Oh… You have a friend who has been injured severe? Since the wound is most likely serious you might ask someone here with more qualification” The aspirant healer was not going to tangle with critical and difficult wounds as that would certain be a recipe to failure. Pointing towards a nearby man Ivan spoke reserved to Enzirou to not alert the wounded with to much noise. “Anyone of these able men can heal the most terrifying of wounds. As my thoughts allow it to be Master Dedrick is available since he is almost done saving one of the soldiers.” Looking at the short pointed ears of Enzirou he face turned a bit quirky and he made his final remark. “There is also an Adhiel helping out if you into those elfin kind of things… I myself would prefer to stick to established remedies.”

Ivan turned back to his duties and the warrior could see a grey haired man stitching up the leg of a rather bloodied lad. His hands were dirty with blood but his quality seemed quite capable. Dressed in white and blue his total appearance was that of someone who had been an established member of the Dort healing order. There wasn’t anyone in the entire Dort combat force that didn’t know him from countless of previous campaigns in which he had saved many a life more then once. He did not seem to notice Enzirou watching him didn’t waver his movements at all and he continued on full focus of his duty.

Other the left wearing green was one of the less conventional healers known to aid those in need. Wearing greens and browns he made an appearance of being able to blend in the surroundings at ease, much like Ymir had thought Phillinie and Enzirou some days before. His body was slim and he moved with a quick grace to attend to the wounded present. The way his movements were made some men uneasy but for those aware; everything flows faster in the eyes of the children of the goddess. Sevti’ilan made the appearance of a quick practitioner able to stop bloody wounds and close them at rapid pace. His mark of trait was thick herbal syrup of herbs and oil, which he made from his own homemade recipe. On contrast to the other his bandages were coloured with light colours like greens, reds and oranges. Enzirou’s discerning looks were immediate met with him looking up at him with a disarming smile, his hands continuing working quick and effortless even though he made eye contact with the young battler. “Namaste tuirdhiel…”

[Guest]

“There is also an Adhiel helping out if you into those elfin kind of things… I myself would prefer to stick to established remedies.” Enzirou looked down on Ivan, which cast a shadow over his eye’s, he then turned around looking for another healer, “I don’t have the time for pompous fools”. He continued to look around and saw that there was an adhiel healing wounded soldiers faster than the healer that Ivan and had told him to go to.


Enzirou watched the quick and agile movements of the adhiel, “He’s camouflaged in the same way Ymir had taught Phillinie and myself to be camouflaged”. The thought of Ymir brought back memories of the scouting mission they’d been on and the lessons he’d taught. Enzirou grew slightly angry that he’d trusted Ymir and now that trust had been broken, “Traitor”. He caught the attention of the Adhiel, “Namaste tuirdhiel…”

Enzirou stood completely speechless and stared blankly at the adhiel, no one had spoken adhiel to him for quite awhile and he had not thought to speak it to Vale or Phillinie. He stood for a moment and took in what had occurred and then suddenly remembered what had happened to Tin and why he was sent to find a healer. Snapping out of his shock Enzirou quickly approached the adhiel desperately, “Greetings healer my friend has been seriously injured, please you must help him”.

[Phillinie]

While he was searching through the fallen clansmen, Phillinie listened intently as the Lieutenant made his report to the Count. He looked closely to see if this clansman had a copper Torc and the same clan colors that were being described. If these were in fact fanatics, they would proudly wear their colors and markings. Even as the Count left to check out the new discovery, Phill spent a burn or two noting his findings. His friend’s injury was nagging in the back of his mind. “I sure hope that Rou was able to find Tin a healer, he thought to himself. He was not looking so good when we left him.”

It looked like the newly promoted Captain would be organizing the enemy corpses. There would be time enough to hear the reports of what they had found. Well, I’ll let others drag these dead men around; I got a friend to look after.

With that thought, Phill left to check on the status of Tin. It did not take long for the rumors of Ymir’s defection to hit his ears. Nor did he fail to notice some of the looks he was getting from the others. Might not be looked on too favorably to be part of the troop led by a branded traitor. On his way down to Tin, Phill became lost in his thoughts and he reflected on what had transpired.

Well I’ve only known him a few days, but Ymir did not strike me as spy. He had been on a few campaigns with Captain Marten and it was clear he loved his sword Esmeralda, and I don’t think he would have left it behind lightly. However, I cannot totally buy that simpleton act he was putting on. At times, especially when he was tired, his persona would slip and he would use vocabulary and speech far more advance than one expected from “Ymir” and his accent would come and go. Also, it looked like someone was trying to use diversion and deception tactics. The raid that we had run into earlier was clearly staged to look like the Count’s men but from factions that normally do not work together; Red and Gold markings mixed in with the Gold and Blue. Most likely staged. Then there is the matter of Sergeant Craigh. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since this mess began. Never did trust his permanent half smiling face.

Before Phil knew it he was back to where he had left Tin and Vale with no questions answered and many more posed. The evidence was strong against Ymir but Phill was not ready to write him of just yet. [/hr]

[Guest]

The tanned healer gave a peaceful glance towards the young warrior radiating peace and understanding. He only nodded as he continued with the man who had a deep slash wound from shoulder to elbow. It took him a short time to stop the bleeding of his patient and he used antibiotic syrup to cleanse the wound. “Keep the wound open for now to let it breath and make cleansing process work more effective.” Even the human tongue he now spoke was tranquil like a bird’s song in the morning breeze. For Enzirou’s ears he spoke flawless in the common language of the world, even though with a rather charming intonation.

After aiding his somewhat reluctant patient he looked upon at the Achadhiel whilst cleaning his hands with a greenish soapy substance and water. Sevti’ilan travelled with the tools of his trade a large pack and medical belt with small sacks and bags. The physician was ready to follow Enzirou too where his friend was staying. It was easily noticeable the forest dweller moved on a very fast pace, his movements swift and agile in pursuit of the trainee.

At arrival the first thing he did was to quickly fall upon his knees next to the downed youngster, too some surprise of Vale who looked with some perplexity in his eyes. “Please help him sir, he is dying.” Vale’s elfish was brackish and an eyesore to any respected linguistic adhiel orator. The adhiel healer spared little effort and immediate started with his assessment of Tin. Looking in the eyes, feeling the neck and then observing the arrow’s damage and angle he nodded softly then took his medical roll from pack accompanied with two cloth blankets. Both where shiny green in colour and had adhiel markings on them none of the warriors here could read. He laid one down next to Tin and the other was given to Vale.

Sevti’ilan’s face was seemingly without emotion as he prepared himself upon his task to save the unfortunate individual. A small prayer was given to his patron goddess who resided in the woodlands of his home so far away. The mere ten flickers was meant to stabilise his hand and not grant divine cure… He was not a priest after all. “I will be needing the aid of a pair of strong arms to lift as I lay the quilt underneath. Tuirdhiels give aid in this and make sure the top quilt stays close we cannot bare the loss of body heat. After the steady placement I cut the arrow short and we can start with removing the ring, quilt and clothe. Be gentle as a soft stream flowing through the slopes. Be careful me friends the location of the wound is dire and we cannot risk harming the veins near.” Vale did as told and made sure the blanket covered the front side of Tin. Sevti’ilan steadied Tin for the attempt of placing the blanket underneath when the two boys started lifting.

Phillinie saw some turbulent action when he came back at the site he had left. An adhiel in the robes of a healer sat near Tin both Enzirou and Vale sitting near. It looked they were preparing to place the injured lad about pace to the left. Vale seemed busy with a quilt making sure it kept close upon Tin and together with the healer making a stable lift. The healer made brief eye contact with Phillinie as he came at the sight of arrival. “Namaste tuirdhiel…” It was the only notice given to the arriving martial artist as they prepared upon the task.

[Guest]

"For one who seemed so strong it is painful for me to see you like this Tin”. He looked down at the young warrior and then at Vale, “I hope the healer is able to help Tin”. “I will be needing the aid of a pair of strong arms to lift as I lay the quilt underneath. Tuirdhiels give aid in this and make sure the top quilt stays close we cannot bare the loss of body heat. After the steady placement I cut the arrow short and we can start with removing the ring, quilt and clothe. Be gentle as a soft stream flowing through the slopes. Be careful me friends the location of the wound is dire and we cannot risk harming the veins near.” Enzirou looked worriedly at Tin “The injury is far worse than I thought”.

He approached Tin’s legs and bent down in a position in which he could lift Tin steadily, “Alright Vale are you ready?”