An RPG detailing the aftermath of the events of PoP3 and the events before PoP4
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 The Liberation of Veccavia

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Join date : 2011-08-19

PostSubject: Re: The Liberation of Veccavia   Wed Sep 28, 2011 1:54 am

He is interrupted by a furious Harlequin his sword drenched with blood with an anxious knight following him.

"What the bloody flux is this shit!!!!!", he roars out.

His personal detail of 15 men snap to at a command from the Grandmaster and raise their lovingly cared for crossbows to their shoulders.

"I will see you all dead you incompetent buffoons. Withdraw yourselves from the battlefield and tend to your wounds. Or go stick your fingers up your asses. But get the hell out of my sight."

Show some class for once you fanatical imbeciles. You insulted me and my order and you got what you gave in return being the bullies and dimwits you are you are incapable of handling that and see fit to accost the men who fought and bled with you this day. Perhaps maturity will one day rear its head and knock some sense into all of you.

The Harlequin snaps his fingers. The guards raise their crossbows. The retainers come to the Harlequin. He departs yet again to finish the work leaving an even greater guard in the courtyard to watch the doors.
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PostSubject: Re: The Liberation of Veccavia   Wed Sep 28, 2011 2:11 am

Tensions raise across the Dawn and the Ebony Gauntlet....

Blaze, being outwitted again , drops his smirk and mouthed "You Will Be Remembered, Thread carefully when you're in Fierdsvain lands"

*Blaze and his berzerkers retire back to the medical tent, to treat Blaze's wounds and visit the 4 wounded Berzerkers.*

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PostSubject: Re: The Liberation of Veccavia   Wed Sep 28, 2011 2:56 am

The Harlequin was pissed. But he did not let that distract himself from his goals.

The palace was intact the enemy was still alive but the smoke inside would distract his enemies. It was time to clear it and make boadice queen.

Alright men, you know the drill room clearance by squad.

The Harlequin has a squad to every door. The men line up and prepare to clear the rooms on the Harlequins command.

The Harlequin details five men to stay with Boadice,

"My lady you don't know our procedures for this. I implore you too wait for us too clear the rooms first before you enter to avoid confusing my men."

He checks with the sergeants of all his men. They signal that they are ready.

Alright, on three men. 1, 2, 3!!!!!

one gauntlet in each squad kicks down the door while two other shoot high and low blindly through the door. Then the remaining seven men streamed through the room sticking to the edges.

The Harlequin follows through with no idea on what to expect.

This is proper room clearance
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PostSubject: Re: The Liberation of Veccavia   Wed Sep 28, 2011 4:24 am

The lobby was thick with smoke, in the depths of the room figures could be seen dashing around in the mirky darkness. Several of the banners and curtains were still aflame, and all gave off a dark smoke which added to the smog of the room. Sir Hugo advanced at the head of his squad, crossbow raised to his shoulder watching carefully for movement in front of him. He nearly tripped over a corpse at his feet, and saw a javlin protruding from the woman’s back, clearly the Veccavi were not willing to let their troops abandon their only defensive position in the city, even if it meant losing some to the deadly embrace of the thick smoke. Somewhere ahead a woman coughed, and Sir Hugo advanced on the sound, but came instead to a wall. Inching along that he found a door and raising a fist halted the men behind him. He braced his back against the wall, and motioned the most burley man to kick in the entrance. With a crash the woodwork caved, the dimly glowing embers having weakened the structure, and Sir Hugo swept in and pulled the trigger as a woman swept into view. She was kicked from her feet by the bolt, then another woman sprung from the dank air and Sir Hugo dropped his weapon and wrenched his sword from the scabbard and met her charge with a shoulder barge, which sent her staggering, this he followed up with a wild slash to her throat, that sent blood streaming into the air. Given a pause Sir Hugo detached the shield from his back and held the straps tightly. The smoke was billowing in from the crushed door, and heading up the staircase which was splayed before him. Sir Hugo held up his shield, guessing that this led to the gallery which contained the elite Queen’s Guard archers, and advanced slowly not needing to look behind him as he knew that his men would be following closely.

With his head below the top step still, Sir Hugo leant against the stone stairway, the lower coverage giving him a momentary respite against the smoky air, and he breathed in a deep lungful of untainted air. The flagstones of the stairs were sooty, and coated in ash but like the rest of the stone palatial structure were essentially undamaged. Above him hung the thick cloud of smoke, half a meter or so above the floor of the gallery. Sir Hugo thrust his head above the parapet to get a better look at the first floor, and saw a group of Queen’s Guard crouching under the cloud, unable to see over the balcony thanks to the obscuring smoke. One of the women saw him looking and screeched, Sir Hugo immediately swept to his feet and charged the group, grunting as a pair of arrows buried themselves in his shield and letting out a curse when one of his men cried out in pain. Sir Hugo was almost paralysed by the smoke which billowed into his helm as his head swept into the noxious cloud gathered above. He immediately crouched, and gestured behind him for his men to follow suit. Moving forward at a crouch, Sir Hugo growled as another barrage thudded into his shield. He wanted badly to stand, but the smoke infiltrating his helm, and caressing the hair inside warned him of the danger of doing so. Besides the position gave him an unexpected advantage, bent down against the floor, he was almost entirely covered by the shield, and so offered no target even for an elite markswoman.

The advance was slow, and arrows kept crashing into the shields, but the cries of pain were much lessened. Sir Hugo made a mental note to suggest this type of advance against the Noldor, it was slow but nearly impervious to arrows. Finally he drew near enough that he could pounce at the enemy, his legs having been coiled under him while crouching. He went flying into the group of women, his shield still out before him, and it connected with the first woman like a battering ram. He immediately crouched down again, and was gratified to see his men had followed his example and thudded into the enemy all around him. His concentration was soon fixed again as he stabbed out with his blade, trying to keep the shield covering him. Even in close quarters the women were able to get off seemingly inhuman shots at point blank range, but the Ebony Gauntlet were well drilled in combating archers in close combat, and their thick metal-reinforced shields were able to turn aside Noldor arrows with ease, making the Veccavi bows near useless. The battle, as they often seem to be was brutal and swift, and soon he was faced with the dead-end of the wall at the end of the gallery, breathing hard from his exertion but unable to get much oxygen in the smoke-tainted air. The cloud of death pressed down on them like an impossible weight, and Sir Hugo knew they had to get to lower ground and quickly. Not stopping to check if all the injured women were dead he led the way back downstairs, and into the main lobby.

There he was met by carnage, the bulk of the Ebony Gauntlets had advanced on the waiting knights by the massive doors at the far end of the room and were still bitterly engaged, but it was clear to the knight that the fight would be short lived, the press of the full deployed strength of the gauntlet were taking their toll. Sir Hugo raised a fist once again, and halted his men by the entrance, allowing them to clear their smoke infected lungs, and to enable them to breathe more easily. Many of them were bent over from coughing, trying hard to clear their lungs from the smoke. A small trickle of men left the building, all of them wheezing and many collapsed on as soon as they emerged into the bright sunshine. A knight descended from the opposite gallery and raised a gauntlet in greeting.
“Stupid bitches were all down when we got up there. Thought they could survive the cloud, proud fools.” Sir Hugo could only smile back grimly, glancing at the slowly descending cloud above him. Waving his men forward once again, Sir Hugo left his place by the door to the other knight so that he could regain his breath and led his squad at the main doors. By the time he arrived, the Harlequin was already directing a downed stone column being used as a battering ram, the sound rhythmically resounding through the building. By the sides of the innovated siege engine, a number of men worked on the woodwork with axes. Behind the ram stood the Queen Boadice, her eyes never leaving a spot in the distance, her own composure seemingly unconcerned with the surrounding carnage, and completely unaffected by the smoke.

Men came and went from the ram continually, the physical exertion taking its toll in the cloying atmosphere. A number of Gauntlets were tugging the draperies down and bearing the embers out, trying to put an end to the source of the smoke. Finally, the doors crashed inwards and several of the men were carried into the room and swiftly met their end by arrows from the final unit of Queen’s Guard. In the centre of the room stood a throne, and on it was a woman who was a near identical clone of Boadice, only her hair was auburn brown rather than golden blonde of the exile. Boadice shoved her way past the Gauntlets, and her sister raised her hand to stop the archers gathered around her from firing any more.

“Can’t we end this once and for all, sister? Woman to woman?” called Queen Valorna. “You may call off your goons. Once I win I promise to spare their lives, they might make interesting play things. Gelded of course” she continued, eying up the Harlequin.
Boadice did not stop in her advance, and in a sudden move threw her shield at her sister. Valorna was forced to raise her shield to deflect the unexpected move, and while her guard was open Boadice followed up with throwing her sword, drawing her dagger as she continued to close the distance. The sword swept through the air caught in a vertical spin, and the hilt thudded into the helm of Valorna, which deflected it. The angle was wrong however, and the blade changed course and the tip of it cut Valorna’s throat. The wound was not deep, but it hit an artery and Valorna sank to her feet, just as Boadice reached her, her own dagger in hand but the weapon proved to be unneeded. Valorna lay on the ground, blood pumping between her fingers, as her sister loomed over her she tried to say something but blood gurgled in her throat, and a bloody froth was all that emerged.

“You didn’t deserve the honour of a fair fight” growled Boadice, standing sneering over her sister. Valorna looked back, fear in her eyes, life rapidly leaving them. The Queen’s Guard archers stood around the royal pair, some raising weapons and then lowering them again, clearly without a clue as to what to do.

“This is my kingdom, bitch.” Boadice concluded, when her sisters gaze was fixated on the ceiling somewhere above, obscured by the smoke, unblinking. The room fell silent but for the choked coughing of men and women throughout the palace, together the cries of the injured, but compared to the enormity of the events everything seemed dulled.

“The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen!” roared Sir Hugo, not knowing what prompted him to do so. The cry was immediately taken up by those standing around him. The Queen’s Archers dropped to their knees, heads bent to Boadice. The new Queen walked slowly up the dais to the throne, turned and sat, her eyes sweeping over those in the room defiantly.

“The Queen is dead! Long live the Queen!”
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The Liberation of Veccavia
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