Gary^The^Procrastinator
Battle of Durrough - The Black Swan
The Battle of Durrough: The Black Swan
A story of rebellion against tyranny, from Lands of Roawia Castle Builders Game. Global Challenge 7, Unrestricted Entry.
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Commentary: GC7 was all the reason I needed to build the Black Swan, but what a build it turned into...one of the most challenging and largest of all my builds. The studs-not-on-top half-timber technique alone was a handful, not to mention that gabled roof. It all comes apart in levels too, including the roof.
Please read the story; I know it's long but it's action-packed and my best writing yet, I believe. Cheers!
-----------------
The Black Swan Tavern was known for its dark ale brew, catering to sea captains, high prices and outstanding hot food served using fresh ingredients. It benefited from its location next to Angus Square, which hosted an excellent market every weekend, with fresh fish from the Aines River and wares from all over the Provinces. On this day however, reputations would change forever, and what was once a peaceful cobbled square would soon be known by all as The Bloody Market.
Lord Oslet moved his men as silently as possible through the misty morning streets of Durrough, determined to catch his prey, one Baron Munro and his lackey of an archer captain, Tavish. Oslet had ensured everything was ready; he had chosen the best shots in the entire garrison, all armed with deadly crossbows. He carried one himself—except his had a little extra potency to it. His 100 hand-picked troops had soft boots and no armor or shields to cause noise, and they moved carefully in the pre-dawn shadows toward the meeting place, the tavern the traitorous Duke Cartney had referred to as The Black Swan.
Oslet had seen to everything, sending a troop of 50 more men farther east to circle back around and approach Angus Square from the opposite end of the city. He even had his best tactical commander, Captain Bladari, standing by with another 200 men in the Bastion on call in case there was trouble.
There wouldn’t be, of course. The Aines River was flowing swiftly, and no boats were in the immediate vicinity, leaving no avenue of escape for this Caelan Munro. Lord Oslet’s anticipation of ridding himself of a thorn in his side, the leaders of those deadly Scout Snipers, grew with every step, and by the time they reached the Swan he was in high spirits. His men approached cautiously, but all appeared well in the mist as they were well ahead of the reported meeting time between Munro and his disreputable spy-traitor to the Queen.
His vanguard moved silently along the wharf and up to the riverside door of the Swan, trying to open it quietly. It wouldn’t budge, and several of them set about trying to force it while the rest moved past the Swan and peaked around the corner into Angus Square. The mist obscured much, but what they saw made them pause, and then motion for their lord to see.
Oslet came forward and peaked himself. The square was heavily cluttered with barrels, wagons, and stands from the three Factions of Roawia, but no movement. It smelled heavily of fish, but there was nothing strange about that. Oslet looked at his men to see what they meant, and one of them whispered, “Too much here.”
“It’s Market Day, you dolt, what did you exp….” he trailed off, for approaching from the other end of the wharf were two cloaked figures moving cautiously in the shadows. As they drew closer it was clear the two forms had bows strapped over their backs and wore green cloaks.
“Early, are we?” Oslet mumbled, and motioned for his men to spread out in reception, as the two unwary men were headed straight for the Black Swan. Oslet smiled at the sight of his prey, and when the moment was right he called out, “It’s to be the gallows for you, Sir Caelan!”
His two targets froze, but as his mind registered this he heard a calm but firm voice call from only thirty feet to his left, “It’s arrows for you stupid.”
And then all chaos broke out. The fly of arrows filled the air, and all around him his men fell like stalks of wheat before a scythe. Windows opened above him, and he caught sight out of the corner of his eye forms leaning out and raining deadly shots upon his troops from the top floors of the Swan. Oslet felt a pain in his thigh, and instinctively rounded behind one of his men, who immediately caught in the chest an arrow meant for him. He made his way back behind his guards one at a time, and only called for a retreat after he had passed them to ensure he had human shields to absorb the shots meant for him. By the time he rallied what men he had left, well out of arrow range, he had less than half of what he came with to that bloody tavern. Without their armor, they were easy pickings.
“Did you get him?” Sir Caelan looked up at Captain Tavish, perched atop the Angus Fountain to improve his shot advantage.
“Nah, I missed the blighter I think…perhaps grazed him.” Tavish shrugged, “Hard to tell in this mist.”
“Mist?” Munro pretended to object, “You’re slipping.”
Tavish frowned. “He kept duckin’ behind his men, the coward!”
“It’s not manly to complain, you know.” This received Tavish’s most undignified look yet.
Caelan moved forward to see better and to wave congratulations at his 25 men in the Swan. Behind him were 75 more, all having hidden amongst the “clutter” and buildings surrounding Angus Square. The remaining 25 Scout Snipers under his command were farther to the east, serving as rear guard to oppose the encircling Queen’s troops no doubt trying to cut their path of retreat off. They would soon be getting the same brutal treatment Caelan had just given Oslet. Before him lay numerous bodies and wounded crawling away to anywhere they could. Some of his men were sniping those still able to aim their crossbows. They just couldn’t resist one of their primary roles they had been trained for: counter-archer fire.
One hundred yards west, Oslet cursed furiously, mostly for his lost dignity and little for the loss of his men. He had suffered only a flesh wound in his thigh, but had suffered greatly in the eyes of his command. When he learned however that Caelan was neither pursuing nor retreating, he brightened and immediately sent for Bladari and his 200 men, including his best unit, the Silver Spears. They were fully armored, and that alone ensured victory, so long as Caelan stood his ground.
And he did. As Bladari came up and saluted his master, Lord Oslet stated, “I have to admit they surprised us and we lost most of our crossbowmen, but the great fool has decided to stay and fight—pride, no doubt. Now we get them all—how stupid, a major threat in the countryside but now hopelessly outnumbered and outclassed in street fighting. Either way, I must ask the Silver Spears to storm that tavern and square. Kill them all.”
Captain Bladari indeed tried valiantly. His men moved in like a landslide, charging forward into a hail of arrows. The sun had come up, burning the mist off, and now the Spears were charging toward the east with the sun directly in their eyes. Their armor did help tremendously, until close range was reached. Then the Scout Snipers’ accuracy made any opening in their armor fair game.
Much worse waited for them in the square however. The Snipers had stacked the deck, for in the time in between attacks they had slammed open the many barrels they had brought, and out poured fish oil, the stuff of slippery nightmares on cobblestones. Just at the point where the Silver Spears should have made contact with the Snipers, the soldiers slipped perilously instead, and blood now mixed freely with the fish oil.
Up on the fountain, Tavish had a field day. He took particular delight in shooting whoever carried the Silver Spears’ banner, and after four fell in succession as they picked it up to lead forward, the spear-tipped signal remained on the ground for the rest of the fight.
The Snipers inside the Swan however had no such fish oil barrier to help them. Bladari’s men were able to withstand enough shots to approach and break through the windows, and the ones that lived to see the other side made it to the door to move the blockade keeping it closed. In addition, Lord Oslet was carefully taking those Snipers shooting from the windows out with shots from his poisoned quarrel bolts. The ten Snipers who held the bottom floor were overwhelmed as the Queen’s troops poured into the Swan, only happy to avoid the meat grinder in the square. Only two Scouts made it up the stairs before the others blocked it off with tables, but now their attention had to be on survival, and Bladari’s men were able to storm the wharf almost unopposed.
Sir Caelan only had a handful of pikemen to hold the attackers off for the Snipers to have shooting room, and they paid heavily for their bravery. Caelan’s squire, Sholto, was standing off to the side, taking an occasional shot with his short bow when he could, but to him it looked like they would soon be overwhelmed. Then he watched his knight charge forward into the fray in Lenfald armor, fighting two-handed as was his method, and swiftly four more of the attackers fell.
One who caught sight of this action was Captain Bladari, who immediately recognized that he could end this madness if he could down Caelan. He moved carefully forward as to not slip on the oil while relying on his full plate armor to deflect every arrow. The two exchanged quick glances and then went right to work without any words. Bladari’s broadsword made brutal impact with Caelan’s armor, but with such a heavy weapon he couldn’t keep up with his opponent’s longsword with long dagger follow-up. Caelan eventually gave him a deep slash to his right thigh, then his left knee, and Bladari went down fighting. He continued swinging until Caelan slashed his sword hand and that was it. Expecting a death blow, he stared up at the young Baron defiant, but was surprised when Munro charged forward instead, leaving him wounded but alive. What he missed was the arrival of Duke Cartney at the head of his own Durrough men-at-arms, who swept all before them.
Lord Oslet was quite pleased with himself now that he was clearly winning the fight, when a runner arrived and announced that the North Gate of the city had fallen to Sir Haymar Glen, and an armed horde of Lenfel troops was storming down High Street. “Who the deuce is Haymar?!?” he yelled in surprise. “How can this…” and his eyes suddenly set in the distance upon Bladari’s men scrambling in full rout toward him. Right behind them were Lenfels in full charge, and leading them was Duke Cartney himself. All came clear to him; the entire engagement was a trap set by Duke Cartney himself with his lies of an easy ambush on Caelan, and he now knew full well that the entire city was in rebellion against the Queen.
“To the Bastion!” he screamed as loud as possible, holding up his crossbow for all to recognize him, and cries of retreat echoed his command. But he did not turn with the others immediately. Instead he lowered his weapon with poisoned quarrel loaded, and aimed it straight at the approaching Duke Cartney…
…To be continued in the next build, Battle of Durrough: Cobblestone Bridge
____________________
Previous Caelan stories:
Battle of Durrough - The Black Swan
The Battle of Durrough: The Black Swan
A story of rebellion against tyranny, from Lands of Roawia Castle Builders Game. Global Challenge 7, Unrestricted Entry.
-----------------
Commentary: GC7 was all the reason I needed to build the Black Swan, but what a build it turned into...one of the most challenging and largest of all my builds. The studs-not-on-top half-timber technique alone was a handful, not to mention that gabled roof. It all comes apart in levels too, including the roof.
Please read the story; I know it's long but it's action-packed and my best writing yet, I believe. Cheers!
-----------------
The Black Swan Tavern was known for its dark ale brew, catering to sea captains, high prices and outstanding hot food served using fresh ingredients. It benefited from its location next to Angus Square, which hosted an excellent market every weekend, with fresh fish from the Aines River and wares from all over the Provinces. On this day however, reputations would change forever, and what was once a peaceful cobbled square would soon be known by all as The Bloody Market.
Lord Oslet moved his men as silently as possible through the misty morning streets of Durrough, determined to catch his prey, one Baron Munro and his lackey of an archer captain, Tavish. Oslet had ensured everything was ready; he had chosen the best shots in the entire garrison, all armed with deadly crossbows. He carried one himself—except his had a little extra potency to it. His 100 hand-picked troops had soft boots and no armor or shields to cause noise, and they moved carefully in the pre-dawn shadows toward the meeting place, the tavern the traitorous Duke Cartney had referred to as The Black Swan.
Oslet had seen to everything, sending a troop of 50 more men farther east to circle back around and approach Angus Square from the opposite end of the city. He even had his best tactical commander, Captain Bladari, standing by with another 200 men in the Bastion on call in case there was trouble.
There wouldn’t be, of course. The Aines River was flowing swiftly, and no boats were in the immediate vicinity, leaving no avenue of escape for this Caelan Munro. Lord Oslet’s anticipation of ridding himself of a thorn in his side, the leaders of those deadly Scout Snipers, grew with every step, and by the time they reached the Swan he was in high spirits. His men approached cautiously, but all appeared well in the mist as they were well ahead of the reported meeting time between Munro and his disreputable spy-traitor to the Queen.
His vanguard moved silently along the wharf and up to the riverside door of the Swan, trying to open it quietly. It wouldn’t budge, and several of them set about trying to force it while the rest moved past the Swan and peaked around the corner into Angus Square. The mist obscured much, but what they saw made them pause, and then motion for their lord to see.
Oslet came forward and peaked himself. The square was heavily cluttered with barrels, wagons, and stands from the three Factions of Roawia, but no movement. It smelled heavily of fish, but there was nothing strange about that. Oslet looked at his men to see what they meant, and one of them whispered, “Too much here.”
“It’s Market Day, you dolt, what did you exp….” he trailed off, for approaching from the other end of the wharf were two cloaked figures moving cautiously in the shadows. As they drew closer it was clear the two forms had bows strapped over their backs and wore green cloaks.
“Early, are we?” Oslet mumbled, and motioned for his men to spread out in reception, as the two unwary men were headed straight for the Black Swan. Oslet smiled at the sight of his prey, and when the moment was right he called out, “It’s to be the gallows for you, Sir Caelan!”
His two targets froze, but as his mind registered this he heard a calm but firm voice call from only thirty feet to his left, “It’s arrows for you stupid.”
And then all chaos broke out. The fly of arrows filled the air, and all around him his men fell like stalks of wheat before a scythe. Windows opened above him, and he caught sight out of the corner of his eye forms leaning out and raining deadly shots upon his troops from the top floors of the Swan. Oslet felt a pain in his thigh, and instinctively rounded behind one of his men, who immediately caught in the chest an arrow meant for him. He made his way back behind his guards one at a time, and only called for a retreat after he had passed them to ensure he had human shields to absorb the shots meant for him. By the time he rallied what men he had left, well out of arrow range, he had less than half of what he came with to that bloody tavern. Without their armor, they were easy pickings.
“Did you get him?” Sir Caelan looked up at Captain Tavish, perched atop the Angus Fountain to improve his shot advantage.
“Nah, I missed the blighter I think…perhaps grazed him.” Tavish shrugged, “Hard to tell in this mist.”
“Mist?” Munro pretended to object, “You’re slipping.”
Tavish frowned. “He kept duckin’ behind his men, the coward!”
“It’s not manly to complain, you know.” This received Tavish’s most undignified look yet.
Caelan moved forward to see better and to wave congratulations at his 25 men in the Swan. Behind him were 75 more, all having hidden amongst the “clutter” and buildings surrounding Angus Square. The remaining 25 Scout Snipers under his command were farther to the east, serving as rear guard to oppose the encircling Queen’s troops no doubt trying to cut their path of retreat off. They would soon be getting the same brutal treatment Caelan had just given Oslet. Before him lay numerous bodies and wounded crawling away to anywhere they could. Some of his men were sniping those still able to aim their crossbows. They just couldn’t resist one of their primary roles they had been trained for: counter-archer fire.
One hundred yards west, Oslet cursed furiously, mostly for his lost dignity and little for the loss of his men. He had suffered only a flesh wound in his thigh, but had suffered greatly in the eyes of his command. When he learned however that Caelan was neither pursuing nor retreating, he brightened and immediately sent for Bladari and his 200 men, including his best unit, the Silver Spears. They were fully armored, and that alone ensured victory, so long as Caelan stood his ground.
And he did. As Bladari came up and saluted his master, Lord Oslet stated, “I have to admit they surprised us and we lost most of our crossbowmen, but the great fool has decided to stay and fight—pride, no doubt. Now we get them all—how stupid, a major threat in the countryside but now hopelessly outnumbered and outclassed in street fighting. Either way, I must ask the Silver Spears to storm that tavern and square. Kill them all.”
Captain Bladari indeed tried valiantly. His men moved in like a landslide, charging forward into a hail of arrows. The sun had come up, burning the mist off, and now the Spears were charging toward the east with the sun directly in their eyes. Their armor did help tremendously, until close range was reached. Then the Scout Snipers’ accuracy made any opening in their armor fair game.
Much worse waited for them in the square however. The Snipers had stacked the deck, for in the time in between attacks they had slammed open the many barrels they had brought, and out poured fish oil, the stuff of slippery nightmares on cobblestones. Just at the point where the Silver Spears should have made contact with the Snipers, the soldiers slipped perilously instead, and blood now mixed freely with the fish oil.
Up on the fountain, Tavish had a field day. He took particular delight in shooting whoever carried the Silver Spears’ banner, and after four fell in succession as they picked it up to lead forward, the spear-tipped signal remained on the ground for the rest of the fight.
The Snipers inside the Swan however had no such fish oil barrier to help them. Bladari’s men were able to withstand enough shots to approach and break through the windows, and the ones that lived to see the other side made it to the door to move the blockade keeping it closed. In addition, Lord Oslet was carefully taking those Snipers shooting from the windows out with shots from his poisoned quarrel bolts. The ten Snipers who held the bottom floor were overwhelmed as the Queen’s troops poured into the Swan, only happy to avoid the meat grinder in the square. Only two Scouts made it up the stairs before the others blocked it off with tables, but now their attention had to be on survival, and Bladari’s men were able to storm the wharf almost unopposed.
Sir Caelan only had a handful of pikemen to hold the attackers off for the Snipers to have shooting room, and they paid heavily for their bravery. Caelan’s squire, Sholto, was standing off to the side, taking an occasional shot with his short bow when he could, but to him it looked like they would soon be overwhelmed. Then he watched his knight charge forward into the fray in Lenfald armor, fighting two-handed as was his method, and swiftly four more of the attackers fell.
One who caught sight of this action was Captain Bladari, who immediately recognized that he could end this madness if he could down Caelan. He moved carefully forward as to not slip on the oil while relying on his full plate armor to deflect every arrow. The two exchanged quick glances and then went right to work without any words. Bladari’s broadsword made brutal impact with Caelan’s armor, but with such a heavy weapon he couldn’t keep up with his opponent’s longsword with long dagger follow-up. Caelan eventually gave him a deep slash to his right thigh, then his left knee, and Bladari went down fighting. He continued swinging until Caelan slashed his sword hand and that was it. Expecting a death blow, he stared up at the young Baron defiant, but was surprised when Munro charged forward instead, leaving him wounded but alive. What he missed was the arrival of Duke Cartney at the head of his own Durrough men-at-arms, who swept all before them.
Lord Oslet was quite pleased with himself now that he was clearly winning the fight, when a runner arrived and announced that the North Gate of the city had fallen to Sir Haymar Glen, and an armed horde of Lenfel troops was storming down High Street. “Who the deuce is Haymar?!?” he yelled in surprise. “How can this…” and his eyes suddenly set in the distance upon Bladari’s men scrambling in full rout toward him. Right behind them were Lenfels in full charge, and leading them was Duke Cartney himself. All came clear to him; the entire engagement was a trap set by Duke Cartney himself with his lies of an easy ambush on Caelan, and he now knew full well that the entire city was in rebellion against the Queen.
“To the Bastion!” he screamed as loud as possible, holding up his crossbow for all to recognize him, and cries of retreat echoed his command. But he did not turn with the others immediately. Instead he lowered his weapon with poisoned quarrel loaded, and aimed it straight at the approaching Duke Cartney…
…To be continued in the next build, Battle of Durrough: Cobblestone Bridge
____________________
Previous Caelan stories: