The Southern Road [POST HERE FIRST]

The Sakandi caravan could be seen from a distance until it came to the walls. It was exotic and eye-catching, clearly or no culture near to there. There were outriders beside the carriages that moved-- moved on litters and carpets, no beasts to carry them.

Once they came upon the gate, the proper paperwork would be handed over. No doubt, this might be alerted to the officials of Isra, but no missives or warning had been sent ahead of time. And with the progress this caravan seemed to be able to make, they would be within the city very, very soon.

A lone figure passed down the southern-road, grey tattered cloak concealing frame from view with hood drawn up, as he made his way towards the old-arena.

Tandor Somerland, atop his winged mount Firefly, would pass over the Southern Roads and Free Plains. After slaying the dragon Aepessa he decided to lay low for a while, to safeguard against retaliatory attacks from other dragons. Now that he felt safer he wanted to find a more suitable place to reside. He chose Isra.

The defenders in the tower sealed the door to the tower as soon as the enemy was spotted. With the orcs screaming and shouting it was no matter to spot the threat and bar the door, though narrowly as a orcs maw showed itself to the soldier who slammed the door. The men outside were already dead, slaughtered with stone and arrows. The men inside knew all too well that if the orcs entered the tower they would be slaughtered all the same. Only 6 in number they could offer little resistance. Two stayed by the door, reinforcing as best they could. Two more stared firing arrows down into the orcs from the top of the tower. One, who was on duty had taken and arrow to the chest and was barely hanging on to life. The last did the most important thing of all. He lit the signal fire and began to ring the alarm bell furiously until an arrow arced its way over the top of the tower and unluckily into his throat. Then the wooden bar cracked behind the force of the raging orcs outside.

This tower was surely doomed; two men were dead and dying, the door was breaking. Doom seemed nigh. But the next tower heard the bells. It raised it's own signals. The men outside it garrisoning their tower with safety. The next tower along the road did the same, and the next, and the next, until the Free City itself saw the fires.

Godfrey understood at once that the southern road was under attack as he heard the bells and looked out from the barracks. He quickly rallied his company. 200 Men and women, many veterans of the Goraian war, outfitted as garrison troops marched onto the southern road, in troops of 50 with Godfrey in the lead on horseback. It would take time to reach the site of the attack. Though as they marched past the towers they would receive what ever information on their foe the towers could glean.

The scouts reported what was attacking and Godfrey grimaced. Orcs were always a tough fight, no matter how many. He began relaying orders and the troops moved to stand abreast as wide as the road would allow. 32 rows, 6 columns deep, with a 7th column of only 9 men guarding the rear. Godfrey himself was in the third column. The front two rows had their crossbows at the ready. The first two towers were in sight and fighting could happen at any time.

Meanwhile the first towers doors split open and the soldiers inside were no longer safe from the orc's wrath. Though with fear in their hearts a spiteful rage filled them. If they were going to get slain by these orcs then they were going to go down swinging. They roared out and rushed the door swords drawn and shields raised. The archers above them heard the door splinter open and moved to the top of the stairs where they fired arrows just above the charging swordsmen.

In the second tower the door was beginning to give way to axe but the orcs would have to smash it off it's hinges. The garrison inside was much more numerous and was proving to be much more of a resistance. The archers were firing as many arrows as possible into the assaulting orcs.


(ooc) Sorry for the extremely late response.

Sadly without the space to use their to try and out maneuver the orcs, even though the sheer numbers would render the tactic useless, the soldiers fell to their superior might. Though they died heroically the tower garrison fell without taking a single orc with them. One archer of the second tower did however manage to put three arrows into the same orc, even through all the stones and such that was pitched in her direction. The fourth and hopefully fatal arrow was sadly not launched before she found his doom.

Godfrey's forces came into view of the tower just in time to watch the finishing of the siege and subsequent bum rush of orcs. Godfrey frowned deeply as the fates of those within were quite obvious. Godfrey dismounted into the columns proper and left his horse behind, ready to come at a mere whistle if needed, and quickly ordered his soldiers to hold position. He grabbed a horn from waist and blew it, a mighty tune to announce to the orcs that they were there. A challenge to them, something orcs simply shouldn't ignore. The front two rows prepared to fire their crossbows. The foremost kneeling and pointing their powerful ranged weaponry in the orc's direction. The third row, which Godfrey was in the midst of prepared to rush the gaps between the columns after the crossbows had been fired. War hammers and shields at the ready. Godfrey himself ready with his sword and shield. Godfrey had no words for his men. No great speech was needed for the coming fray, only the orders to slaughter these orcs with as little casualties as possible.

Taking one of the pies from Asger, he began shoveling the contents out with his fingers, although he stared at it in disapproval. "There's fruit in 'ere? Where the meat?" he asked with a grumble, stirring the cherries into a mess as if searching for a second layer he'd missed. "Who the 'ell puts fruit in pies?" he asked, though the smells wafting from it were rather enticing. Spooning it into his mouth he slowed slightly, looking at Asger. "It's good! Huh, who'd have thought." scraping the rest of it in his mouth, he glanced over at his companion when he'd asked about papers. Nodding he wiped his cherry-covered hand on his armor, streaking it with crimson that looked unfortunately similar to blood. Reaching into his pouch he removed the papers, now slightly smeared with red, folded repeatedly and slightly crumpled. Shoving it back in the pouch he pulled the string tight, tossing the tin carelessly to the side.

"Got anymore of them pies?"

Asger and Dirk Smithson would soon hear the sounds of orcs raiding the towers and the echo of a warhorn sound. They were coming upon the scene of a skirmish in progress. If they turned back of worked their way around the area they could avoid the coming bloodshed, but as seasoned warriors it was their decision to make.