Post by Count Elric of Bergland on Jan 30, 2020 16:02:18 GMT -8
The battle had effectively ended. The Imperials talked the fields looking for their wounded before tending to the deceased; some among them looted what valuables the orks might have been carrying. Those orcs which remained were lying broken on the field of battle, to be brutally executed by the perusing Imperials.
Elric surveyed his side of the battle, where mangled horsemen, broken cavalrymen, and trampled orks were strewn across a hoof-trodden riverside. His aides had taken to putting down the lame horses and securing the wounded, and so the Count crossed the shallows and made his way to the hill.
He navigated his way through corpses of friends and foes alike until he finally came upon Franz Junger. There before the Lieutenant lay the black-blooded warchief. The smell alone caused Elric to grimace. It was so impressively large. He followed a trail of blood that ended at the beast's dismembered head, still in Franz' possession.
"Franz," he began, "I am... at a loss of words." He looked around to see the aftermath of the carnage on the hill. "It was one thing to hold this hill... but this-" he raised his sword and pointed at the chief's body "is a great feat in itself." The Count turned his head back to the Lieutenant and smiled "the Empire is made great because of men like you. The Bergland will remember this day, mark my words. And your deeds will not be unheard of in the Imperial Diet. I will see to it that you - and all of the men here - are properly rewarded for their valor and courage."
It was easy to talk of valor and courage, the Count thought, when you were still breathing. What did the dead think? More than that - what did the wounded think? A number of the men suffered injuries or would lose limbs that would them lame for life.
In any event, the Imperials had done their work and were now clearing the field of battle of their dead and wounded. They would prepare to move out as soon as everyone was ready.
Elric surveyed his side of the battle, where mangled horsemen, broken cavalrymen, and trampled orks were strewn across a hoof-trodden riverside. His aides had taken to putting down the lame horses and securing the wounded, and so the Count crossed the shallows and made his way to the hill.
He navigated his way through corpses of friends and foes alike until he finally came upon Franz Junger. There before the Lieutenant lay the black-blooded warchief. The smell alone caused Elric to grimace. It was so impressively large. He followed a trail of blood that ended at the beast's dismembered head, still in Franz' possession.
"Franz," he began, "I am... at a loss of words." He looked around to see the aftermath of the carnage on the hill. "It was one thing to hold this hill... but this-" he raised his sword and pointed at the chief's body "is a great feat in itself." The Count turned his head back to the Lieutenant and smiled "the Empire is made great because of men like you. The Bergland will remember this day, mark my words. And your deeds will not be unheard of in the Imperial Diet. I will see to it that you - and all of the men here - are properly rewarded for their valor and courage."
It was easy to talk of valor and courage, the Count thought, when you were still breathing. What did the dead think? More than that - what did the wounded think? A number of the men suffered injuries or would lose limbs that would them lame for life.
In any event, the Imperials had done their work and were now clearing the field of battle of their dead and wounded. They would prepare to move out as soon as everyone was ready.