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ID: Ty1hV/Wk/qst/6271040#6272541
7/9/2025, 8:13:56 PM
ID: PBhKDqrt/qst/6259847#6272534
7/9/2025, 7:57:05 PM
It all happened in a blur, for in a moment, you and the rest of your army came charging out of the forest. As the enemy was only now attempting to react to them being cut off.
The rebel Mozolavians had been tired out from the days of marching in the summer heat, and in combination with the rainfall, it made them react most sluggishly to your ambush.
Even their leader, upon his horse and surrounded by his own retainers and knights, reacted with surprise. Though, the poor sods didn't get the chance to use their animal's speed or power before your men were at their side.
Elsewhere, enemy officers were shot down by your archers, to disorganise them further, while the nobles and knights were pulled from their horses.
Whatever resistance was theirs to offer was overcome quite easily. Exhaustion soon gave way to a general panic. And while their fellows on the other side from the logs tried to reach them back, it was in vain.
It was not that the Mozolavians were all slaughtered to a man; some of them managed to disperse. However, the core of their troops, the personal retainers of Prince Konrad, managed to at least partially regroup around their banner; your own men had managed to completely surround them.
And so now, as the rain continued to pour on the both of you. In the middle stood they, hounded, nearly broken, but still defiant. Their arms and armour were dirtied and muddied, and as they started to close themselves in ever closer and closer ranks, what remained of their mounted troops had dismounted as well. Even from far away, you caught a glimpse of narrowed, determined eyes.
Surrounding them, like hungry wolves closing ever and ever in. You men had been given a taste of success, of driving your enemies before you like a cruel master does to his animals. They were wet as well, but much, much fresher.
That was, of course, until your archer began firing in volleys; with them so close together, some of them began to fall over, more and more and more. But eventually, you had enough.
"Close that damn circle; either they start laying down their arms, or we will kill them all.'' You shouted to your men.
Trudging through the mud, you slowly made your way over to their lines; closer and closer you came. And the fighting became fiercer and fiercer.
A giant man on the enemy side was of particular note. He desperately smashed and smashed with his mace, but with each swing, he hit slower and slower until a Greifswalder soldier bored his spear through his thigh, collapsing the man into the mud.
By now, more and more men were beginning to lay down their weapons, as you finally reached the banner of Konrad, by now only held by a dead squire. You found Konrad himself with his legs stuck under his dead soldiers, he seemed to be alive, though he was losing blood from the looks of it.
>Try to save him
>Let him bleed out.
The rebel Mozolavians had been tired out from the days of marching in the summer heat, and in combination with the rainfall, it made them react most sluggishly to your ambush.
Even their leader, upon his horse and surrounded by his own retainers and knights, reacted with surprise. Though, the poor sods didn't get the chance to use their animal's speed or power before your men were at their side.
Elsewhere, enemy officers were shot down by your archers, to disorganise them further, while the nobles and knights were pulled from their horses.
Whatever resistance was theirs to offer was overcome quite easily. Exhaustion soon gave way to a general panic. And while their fellows on the other side from the logs tried to reach them back, it was in vain.
It was not that the Mozolavians were all slaughtered to a man; some of them managed to disperse. However, the core of their troops, the personal retainers of Prince Konrad, managed to at least partially regroup around their banner; your own men had managed to completely surround them.
And so now, as the rain continued to pour on the both of you. In the middle stood they, hounded, nearly broken, but still defiant. Their arms and armour were dirtied and muddied, and as they started to close themselves in ever closer and closer ranks, what remained of their mounted troops had dismounted as well. Even from far away, you caught a glimpse of narrowed, determined eyes.
Surrounding them, like hungry wolves closing ever and ever in. You men had been given a taste of success, of driving your enemies before you like a cruel master does to his animals. They were wet as well, but much, much fresher.
That was, of course, until your archer began firing in volleys; with them so close together, some of them began to fall over, more and more and more. But eventually, you had enough.
"Close that damn circle; either they start laying down their arms, or we will kill them all.'' You shouted to your men.
Trudging through the mud, you slowly made your way over to their lines; closer and closer you came. And the fighting became fiercer and fiercer.
A giant man on the enemy side was of particular note. He desperately smashed and smashed with his mace, but with each swing, he hit slower and slower until a Greifswalder soldier bored his spear through his thigh, collapsing the man into the mud.
By now, more and more men were beginning to lay down their weapons, as you finally reached the banner of Konrad, by now only held by a dead squire. You found Konrad himself with his legs stuck under his dead soldiers, he seemed to be alive, though he was losing blood from the looks of it.
>Try to save him
>Let him bleed out.
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