1151: Equal Scales – Part 6 1151: Equal Scales – Part 6 “Concentrate!” Lombard hissed, as he brought his n ahead of Oliver’s, and rounded them to the right, to widen the gap that Karstly had punched through the encirclent with his retainers.
Needing no more of a word than that, Oliver pulled himself up, and put all that he had into the attack.
It mattered not how it had co about, what mattered was the results.
Karstly was moving with an almost fiendish diligence, as he destroyed whatever he could get his hands on, smashing through tents and supply piles alike.
Oliver did the sa.
Opportunities like this were rare – they needed to inflict as cutting a blow as they could whilst they had it.
With such a thought in mind, Oliver drew up his own mission.
He was a man that needed sothing to aim for, so that he could slaughter that goal with the fullest force of his attention.
He rallied his troops under that cry.
“THE ENEMY RESTS HERE!
WE CUT THEM NOW ENOUGH TO LEAVE A MARK!
TARGET ANY MAN WITH A PLU ON HIS HEAD!
WE HUNT OFFICERS UNTIL THERE IS NOT A SINGLE ONE OF THEM LEFT!” Oliver bellowed.
He gave his cry, ahead of the other Captains, and his n responded with eagerness.
“””URAHHH!””” Like him, they needed direction.
With sothing to aim for, and a mission to accomplish, they could fight as effectively as they were able to.
So semblance of order was already struggling to establish itself within the encampnt, as won and children rushed to get clear of the charging Stormfront n, and soldiers that had been off duty rushed for their weapons, and tried to form whatever lines of defence that they could.
Now Oliver could see the plud n amongst them.
Red, violet and blue.
The blue were plentiful.
They tried to guide the evacuation of the won, and what few children there were.
Oliver steered clear of them.
He didn’t need the blood of civilians to muddy the morale of the troops.
Instead, he targeted Violet Commandants almost solely.
He picked out three from a distance, and he split his n apart in order to hint them.
“FIRYR!
HE’S YOURS!” He said, sending the first Firyr’s way.
The man had been itching for a fight, and he was sprinting almost as fast as the horses, making sure he wasn’t left out of the action.
“YES, CAPTAIN!!” The man bellowed, dragging his n off with him.
Like the Stormfront officers, inevitably, those Commandants were followed by splattering of n, even now that they were firmly out of formation, and plunged into chaos.
Nevertheless, they presented little opposition for a motivated Patrick Commander.
“BLACKTHORN!” He said, pointing his finger off towards the next man.
She went away wordlessly, like an arrow released from a bow, slamming into the man that had been labelled as her target a few short monts later, ignoring the gathering of nearly a hundred n that he had attempted to surround himself with.
Oliver sent Yorick off next, with Verdant to deal the killing blow.
Then he sent away Commander Jorah, scattering his army in four different directions until he was left by himself.
Ordinarily, it would have been an action that he refrained from.
He always wanted to be part of the fighting himself, he wanted to have his share of the danger, but after his battling with Amion, he had learned that there were things that a Captain could accomplish that were worth even more than his presence on the frontline.
He wheeled around on his horse, fighting to keep the creature calm as the screams rose up in chorus around him, along with the fires, and the smoke.
He tried to drink in the situation all at once.
All that he could see.
Those fleeing, terrified Verna won.
He had to set his opinions of the scene aside.
Why were won on the battlefield?
He’d already asked himself that question before, but it seed to be a Verna custom.
They helped to run the camps and… None of that mattered.
The won were a distraction.
Their bodies and their flesh served as barriers between Oliver’s n and the soldiers.
So of the other Stormfront n ignored them entirely.
They were content to ride them down.
Oliver saw a Blackthorn Colonel lead his n straight through the group.
It was war, and he was right to do… He was, but it left a sickly feeling in Oliver’s stomach.
For victory, they could do a number of things here, but to slaughter the won that made their way in front of them?
It wasn’t a particularly appealing offer to him.
He preferred Karstly indirect thod.
The General and his retainers had stolen torches from their stands, and they started their blaze wherever they could, setting fire to whatever was in reach, and tearing apart any n that dared to get in their way.
It was mindless, chaotic destruction.
They were in the enemy’s encampnt.
Everything here had so level of importance.
All they needed to do was whirl around and cut at whatever was in reach, and they would do damage.
But Oliver wanted more.
He’d waited nearly an entire week to be set free, and he was well aware that this opportunity was not likely to co again.
It was all very well listening to the orders of Generals, and trusting in their battle strategies, but when it was that Oliver took to the battlefield, he wished to ensure that he left his mark.
He saw the arrows that he had sent in the form of his Commanders land ho.
Four heads fell from their shoulders.
Four Violet Commandants were left dead, along with nearly two hundred of their soldiers, that ought to have been mark enough, but it wasn’t yet enough for Oliver.
“RETRREATTTT!” Ca the cry, far too soon.
Those were Stormfront words.
Karstly was cutting his way back outside of the encirclent again.
It was easy to guess why.
Even without looking up, Oliver could sense that the timing of Khan’s response was right.
There were already chariots coming their way.
Khan had set them loose, seeking to tie up the battlefield, and make the cost of the tactic that he’d fallen too as minimal as possible.
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