IC Scene - The Duke's Wharf

Desperation marked Aelos' eyes as Wulven took a step towards the light, the loss of blood taking its toll.
Alm hummed a song that for this group of northerners was a creed testifying to their love and lifelong dedication to Ravenstern. A noble sentiment that had found its inception during their first night off in Scalekeep when they had shared their stories with each other. Alm, whose worries were little and all related to his favourite beverage, had discovered that many of his fellow Dragons and Drakes had a much deeper connection to the lands he simply called 'home'. Especially the men from the village of Tebandra, so close to Windholm and the salty sea, knew of great difficulty. Wulven had lost his family during a Vanskerry raid and he himself had been lost in the wilds for days, a boy of six surviving despite the threat of aggressive wolves. A natural talent for survival seemed common in the impoverished village that had tried to defend their livestock from the numerous Vanskerry raids, as Sigwald 'the burned' could testify. Sigwald had been captured, where Wulven had managed to escape, and had been forced to slave on a galley for years until he managed to escape and return to the cold mountains he loved. Just like these two, many had their own stories that had drawn them towards the protectors of the north. A shared belief and view of life, where Ravenstern was paramount and first among all.
Alm, with all the bardic talent in his giant body crafted a song which sentiment filled the keep for many nights. Although unspoken, it was a sentiment the young and old were prepared to die for.

However, none had departed for Windholm thinking that they'd die fighting for someone else's dream. None, but especially Wulven, who was always free of mind, had expected to spill his own blood for the cause of a Vanskerry rich of plunder.

"I wish I had some ale for you, brother."

Then they heard someone calling out to them, and they saw a familiar man holding a sword loosely in his hand. Alm bumped his fist into Aelos' shoulder, there was no doubt, this was the man that had pierced Wulven with his lance.

"The set of balls on this fool," Aelos murmered as he raised himself to full length while taking the masterwork longsword from its scabbard. Taking a stance best befitting his training under the Barclayan fencing master Alerio Spadino, he'd finish this quickly.

"If you have something to say, say it before I've cut out your tongue."

Gilaver was somewhat relieved at the Mettenheimian emerging victorious over the Knight Commander, especially because of the very pragmatic way he did it. Turning back from the sight, he looked at the position where enemy forces had flanked them. He would finish the enemy knights here before joining the battle there.

OOC: Target the remaining Dragons before joining the other melee.
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Sir Sanders felt his heart leap with you when the crazed Eventider crashed to the ground. The adrenaline surging through his veins was still dulling the pain from his hand wound, á la Morek. He took a step toward the fallen man and looked at the unconscious body. This was the man who had so brutally murdered his comrade, Liza, and had stubbornly chased him. This was the man who had abandoned all honour to target those who couldn’t defend themselves.

Sanders took a quick look at the other side of the street where the bloody pile that used to be a knight laid. Turning back at Javier, he raised his sword to deliver the coup de grâce to the vermin.

He couldn’t. Despite wanting revenge and justice for his comrade, he couldn’t just strike the final blow, to become like the man in front of him. Yet, unconsciousness was usually temporary, and he would continue to chase others when he woke up alive. With apparently only one option remaining, Sanders struck at the lightly armoured man to cut his right Achilles’ tendon. It would slow him down, at least…

As he turned back from the man, the adrenaline was nearly gone and the pain struck in full force. He started to walk toward the walls where he could sit down and dress the wound.

OOC: Sanders cripples Javier’s foot to prevent him from chasing him. Then he attempts to treat his wound.

As the two Dragons stood, Natir was reminded of their size, and started to question his decision. He recollect himself and spoke.

"I'm here to offer any assistance I can give. I'll admit I did place that lance into his chest, but that doesn't mean I am happy to see him fall. He was doing his duty to what he thought was right, and I am not convinced he was wrong. The fight has moved on, there is no reason for us to fight, we both just want to tend to our wounded. In my travels I have treated many wounds as your friend has. Let me help, quickly it is probably too late already, but I am willing to try if you will let me."

"Drop your sword, Outrider. I'll fight you if you don't, and we both know that's not a fight you'll win. You'll be my prisoner until we've managed to get out of this bloody city." The young captain said, stepping closer to Natir as he does.

"What? Aelos, just kill him." Alm protested, his eyes turned from teary to hateful in a flash, but his knee prevented him from getting up and Wulven needed more help than Aelos at the moment.

"Don't be a fool, Alm, we're done in Windholm. I'm weary of fighting friendly Orders to place a random southerner on a seat we don't care about."

"Your men will live, but you won't. Last chance, Outrider." Aelos stepped even closer, easily within distance for a lunge in the Barclayan fencing style. However honorable the outrider thought he was, he shouldn't have come if he wasn't prepared to surrender.

[ooc: Basically, if he refuses again they'll fight. On another note, I have no idea how our surroundings look situation-wise. Are the Dragons being massacred close-by and is it logical to think that Lions/Griffons/Militia will reinforce Natir within a few moments?]

Natir took a step back. " I will drop this sword if that's what you want, and you can tie me up if you want, but I will not leave this street willingly until my men are cared for."

"Then drops your sword, you didn't think the knight you wounded is capable of moving, did you?" Aelos made another step.

Alm grabbed his own sword, just to be prepared if something came his way.

"Okay" There was a clash as Natir's sword hit the ground. He then proceeded to kick the sword with his foot to the left. "I surrender. Just know the reason you stay with your man near a great force of enemies, is the same reason why I won't leave my men. Now you can tie me up and pat me down for weapons, or I can see what I can do for your friend. Your call." Natir held out his hands with there palms facing Aelos, ready for any his hands to be tied.

"Alm, your skin, throw it over."

The skin of ale, depleted of the latter, found its way into Aelos' hand after he returned Icebreath to its scabbard. Aelos tore the leather string off the sack and used it to tie Natir's hands together. Then he lead the outrider over the Wulven,

"As you can see, we tried to give him every treatment that is available to us." Aelos said as he pushed Natir to his knees in front of Wulven. "Do whatever you can."

Despite Rayvs' fury, his attack couldn't penetrate the thick wall of men, nor could he personally fight his way to Wulfred.  Indeed, the men with him were slowly being pushed back, absorbing casualties at an alarming rate.  He turned to urge the knight next to him to press in harder when an arrow pierced the other man's armor.  Looking for the source, Rayvs' discovered the Gryphon archers posted in the house next door to the burning building, despite the threat it posed to them.  Arrows shared among them, all nine were shooting into the thinning line led by Rayvs.  Even the Ghilmen were pinned, too focused on the melee fight just feet from them to realize what happened.

"We have ta' fall back!" yelled a Vanskerry, bashing his shield into a guardsman as he made his way to Rayvs.  He held up his shield as an archer loosed an arrow into it.  "There's too many of them and not enough of us!"  

Alatin, pinned too securely under Klaus, listen as the battle turned against his momentary hope.  Even his own remaining men, recognizing the truth of Klaus' words, swallowed their pride and surrendered to the Griffon troops.  One could only imagine them silently cursing the crown as they did.

Just down the road, Natir tried a few tricks he had learned in his training, but none worked.  His skills were too feeble and Wulven too wounded, perhaps even for a Knight of the Radiant Cross to heal at this point.  Coughing suddenly, blood in the place of saliva, Wulven woke up, though he was clearly weak, his eyes half shut.

Sanders had little luck himself, his wound too grievous to treat with one arm and instead waited for help to come.
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Away from the fight, Lucius was helped out of the burning gap just moments before the home buckled again and filled the narrow path with wood and flame.  Moving along a different alley until they were far from the conflagration, Barbarossa and the Dawn rested briefly.

Morek and his troop, meanwhile, emerged out onto a road that seemed vaguely familiar.  Turning right, he soon came upon the merchant's guild.  Several mercenaries, far less than had been gathered in the area not long before, rushed up to meet is troop.  Taking one look at the beleaguered group of knights, one asked, "What happened out there?"
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As Kharad bragged to his crewman, the rest dutifully did as he asked, alternately bringing oil and treasures on deck.  It seemed that the Duchess was ready to evacuate with her personal possessions if it every came down to it.  The men still inside the wharf mostly panicked helplessly as Kharad did his work.

Casualties:

Morek gave the man a withering glance from under his Great Hem before answering. The fact a good half of the party was wounded, including Morek himself from his gash in his side marked by dried blood on top of his mail hauberk, should have clued the man into the answer.

"We fought and we lost. I do not know what happened to the other Orders that stood with us. I think the Dragons may have thrown their lives away in a final charge but I do not know. Now stand aside, I need to treat my men while I can."

The unwounded wyverns were directed to keep watch while Morek and his Plaguewardens that could still function began to tend to the injured, patching up the less serious wounds first to enable as many to fight again as they could. The Radiants were sure to keep their weapons close by in case an enemy force wandered down the street however. Eventually only the Knights with arrows in their backs and the Conquistador Mautista were left. Mautista's twin Eran and a plaguewarden held the man down while a second warden stitched his leg wound up, admonishing him for squirming so much.

Morek himself took care of the Radiant Knights that had been injured, crouching behind the first he grabbed the arrow near the wound and carefully pulled the missile free of its sheath of flesh before quickly staunching any bleeding then sealing the wound. To the knights credit, a grizzled 45 year old veteran, a man considered ancient by many in the Order in Pendor, the only sound he let out was a grunt of mild annoyance at the pain. The second knight, Yorren, younger even than Morek did not perform so well, letting out a strangled yelp as the Knight-Captain pulled the arrow free from his back.

Only after seeing to his men did Morek think to look to himself. Parting the severed links of his blackened mail he peered down at the wound Sanders had landed on his side. It had mostly scabbed over by now but Morek took no chances. He summoned a warden and stood in stoic silence as the man stitched up the gash with heavy needle and coarse thread.

After the Warden had finished, Morek smoother down the mail to cover the wound and approached the mercenaries by the Guild Hall.

"Get Valdor out here. Now. He needs to know what has happened. I intend to leave this city, and he should come with us if he values his head being attached to his shoulders for much longer. I doubt the Duchess will be merciful to him."

[Actions: Radiant Cross rest and tend to their injuries and those of the injured wyverns with them.]

Natir rose holding his blood drenched hands in front of him. Turning to Aelos "I can't do anything more, I was too late. He is awake if you wish to say any last words." Natir got out the way to allow Aelos to approach his man.

William knew it was pointless to fight back, or should I say pointfull, after the points were the problem in that they were all pointing at him. He stared through his face plate up at the Mettenhimer.

"Why are you here? Supporting the kings dogs. You are a despicable mercenary of a murderer."

He attempted to strike at him but it was useless, his strength was low and he was beaten. His blow fell short and his muscles relaxed and he stopped resisting.

"I had great respect for Ravenstern, I read about them lots. Their industry, their independence, their pride. I thought they great people, much like Mettenheim. Now I see real dragons though, and I am much disappoint. First you try to capture during a flag of parley, then these insult..." Klaus shook his head as he spoke, the pain in his voice palpable, like a childhood dream being crushed as he spoke. Taking a deep breath he steadied his nerves, and began to snap orders, his words curt.

"Greatswords! Disarms the dragons, make take their swords and tie their arms with bandage."

Klaus tried to turn the dragon onto his front, raising arms behind his back and locking them in place with his own. To struggle now would cause great pain, though the griffon did not hold the man maliciously. When the greatsword arrived to bind the dragon's arms, Klaus checked the knot carefully, and then rose himself.

"Greatswords, take guard of the captives, do not let them escape, and do not let the lions near!" Klaus growled, emphasizing the latter point. He then walked over to where the Thane's sword had fallen and picked it up himself.

"You stole my sword, now I take yours" then with that he looked over the continuing melee, trying to judge its situation and shouting orders where he felt they were suited, giving his new blade several test swipes as he did.

William smiled

"I care nothing for you, fighting outnumbered men, at least you have seen courage today. I tell you this, I will snap the lions neck with these bound hands before a trial is complete."

He then went silent and followed where he was directed.

Sir Lucius took a moment to recover from his close encounter with the building that the Dawn ignited. It was now clear to him what he had to do and what Astraea required of him. The city of Windholm was now going to be controlled by those who had no respect for the Goddess of Justice. Lucius narrowed his eyes and pushed himself up to his feet. His work was not yet complete.

"Captain," he said to Barbarossa, "The Order of the Dawn will help you and your men escape Windholm. I fear that the city has been lost and cannot be reclaimed."

"Sir Jofrid! It is time for the city to face judgment by fire!" the Dawn Knight commanded to his subordinate. Quickly, and without question, his men began to prepare to carry out their new orders. Two of the Knights retreated down the alley to the burning building, intending to find a piece of burning wood to spread the fire, while the others looked for pieces of wood to use as makeshift torches. Lucius, meanwhile, scouted ahead to get his bearings.

The area around the battle morphed again as something stirred in Gilaver’s mind. The scene in front of him started to morph as people became different and shapessihfted around to form new ones. Watching that would have been very dizzying and nauseating: However, what caught Gilaver's attention the most was how the enemy knights facing them suddenly turned into badly mauled Dragons that had surrendered against them. It was something he couldn’t comprehend in his current state.

Why. How. What…

Gilaver’s mind struggled to form a coherent thought, and maybe a rational explanation for what had just happened. Not yet quite out of his flashback, he couldn’t understand why the knights of North would even fight against the Griffons here. Unfortunately, the confusion prevented him from even noticing the Eventide attacking the formation. Then again, with his current state, it might have been for the best. At that moment, Gilaver could only stare at the wounded people on the ground without moving. He just stared, and tried to understand.

He couldn’t.

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Meanwhile, Sanders sits down and tries his best to slow down any bleeding for proper medics to patch it up later.


OOC: I threw a die. Needless to say, that particular one will never be used again.

Rayvs cursed.

"Fall back and regroup! We have to get Javier out of there, but it won't be by throwing our lives away! Save your fury, men! Gather our wounded."

Rayvs gestured at his remaining Knights to help cover their retreat.

Kharad drank in the growing pile of riches in front of him eagerly and an expression like a child with a naughty secret overcame his face. I love my life...

He moved, arms folded and his blades sheated, to the rails of the captured ship and gazed out to the city beyond. More specifically, to the plume of smoke that rose not far off in the distance. The sound was faint, but his ears recognised the sound of battle when they heard it. He frowned.

"Seems the battle for Windholm has already begun" said Tamir, who had approached Kharad's side rather silently. "Gods only know how it goes. We have the oil gathered as you ordered. Should we begin soaking the dockside?"

It may have been the dropping levels of adrenalin in his blood, or a rare moment of compassion from the privateer, but either way Kharad had a sudden change of heart.

"No. As much as I do love a good bonfire, the flames would spread beyond into the homes of the commoners. They didnt ask for any of this. They are not our enemies. Get the crewmen to take all our loot on board the Maelstrom. You and your Ghilmen begin coating this ship with oil. Its time I claimed my own prize"

Kharad pushed dramatically away from the rails and strolled toward the Duchess's quarters, eager to behold what luxuries, and perhaps secrets, she had hidden away amongst her personal possesions.

The sound of battle was slowly replaced by silence as the rebels, what few remained, fell back from the fight.  The Eventide and Vanskerry closed ranks as the mercenaries picked up who they could.  Backing off as quickly as it could manage, the formation escaped further harm as it retreated down the street, a formation of city guard nipping at it.

Instead, the air was replaced by the cries of the fallen and dying up and down the road.  The crackling of burning timber joined it as the building Klaus Witz had once taken refuge in was consumed in flame, collapsing into its neighbors and spreading the fire.  Little was anyone aware that a man of questionable sanity was even then encouraging the fire's spread to more of the aged buildings.  They would know soon enough, however.

Lucius' personal scouting led him to a road deeper in the city.  There were signs that someone had just passed through minutes before.

As Wulven breathed his last and Sanders patched himself as well as he was able, Greysword's troops marched up the road around them. A group broke off to haul the wounded Eventide of Javier's former command away.  They kept a loose formation around Aelos, but allowed him his peace. Suddenly, one of the Griffon knights caught Klaus' attention.  Something...strange was happening with Gilaver.

[OOC: To avoid confusion, yes, Lucius found the same road Morek took.  I'm also moving Morek to the harbor thread.  I know it can be confusing jumping around threads based on location, but I've found keeping events straight in the same thread to be too much.]
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Aboard the Duchess' vessel, Kharad found her quarters easily enough, but they were latched with two locks.

Kharad gently ran a hand over the locks as he pondered. Locks as strong as the Duchess is paranoid it seems. What could possibly warrant such protection...

He grinned as his thoughts trailed off.

"Time to find out I suppose"

With all the force he could muster at this moment, Kharad began in his attempt to smash in what he could not unlock.

After Aelos closed Wulven's eyes for the last time, he looked around and saw the great number of dead lying on the street. Alm wept almost soundlessly and had not yet bothered to return to the issues at hand.
It seemed the battle had been lost, fire was raging across the street and a man unmistakably Thane Alatin was a prisoner of the same Griffon that had been theirs not hours ago. An utter failure for the knights of the north and a great stain on their mighty reputation.

"Alm, do you recognize the others among Alatin's men?" he asked the weeping giant. Sirs Karstan, Klovis and Hodor were among the Thane's knights when he charged into battle, but Aelos couldn't find them among the survivors.

Men around him began to cheer as the rebels began to break and flee, but Klaus remained grim as he watched. He knew that the end of a battle was nearly as dangerous as the most bitter melee, it was a time that men really lost their minds.

"Hold!" he roared at the backs of the loyalists "formations! Hold your lines, do not give chase. They dogs are beaten, let them run. We have done enough today" he then joined the line himself, holding his arms out to steady those men most eager to give chase.

"Sir! Something has gripped the commander!" one of the knights said in Klaus's ear. Turning his head he saw that it was Sir John, and he gave a nod in acknowledgement.

"Thank you Herr John. Take command hier, we are done. I do not want men to chase, they will be killed in small alley. We make win because we are discipline, ja?" with that he made for where Gilaver was standing, dazed. Before he went too far though, he added with a glance back "when the lions are complete, say to Herr Wulfred that I want to make talk with him."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned once more to the Griffon superior, coming to a stop a respectful distance away, he spoke in a low voice, his brows frowning as he saw the state of his comrade.

"Herr Gilaver? We have make the field. We have won... Sir?"

William slowly walked, hands bound towards Aelos. A small tear began to form in his eye, he had failed his captain, his people, and his sworn duty. How could he tell Aelos that all but Karstan, Alexander and Jeremiah had been slain or wounded. Hodor and Klovis bravely defended the left flank, but it was too much and they fell.

The Thane fell to his knees at the edge of the circle that had formed around Aelos, his head hanging low, not daring to look his captain in the eye.