Agatha

Agatha

Shield Captain
Year 347 E.O.D
Port Sulis, South Ilica

'Yes. Indeed. It's just as I thought.' Back bent, Sergeant Baz glanced up from where he was squatting to fix his Captain with a look. Bodies littered the ground in front of him, like husks of meat that had been left out in the Sun too long. Bloated, stinking, the crows and carrion eaters had already made a feast of the dead. Eyes and lips and tongues were the first to go, considered delicacies in the animal kingdom. Blood stained the downtrodden grass, forming patterns for the diviners to unravel.

'And what is it you thought?'

Big Hoof stirred beneath the Captain as she responded to her Sergeant's fishing. The man in question grinned, as if she had fallen right into his trap. The gaps in his teeth showed just how many times said traps had backfired on his fool-ass. The she-orc suppressed a smirk. 'Why, that they're all dead, o' course!' Standing, the sergeant nudged the body he had been crouching over with his boot.

The corpse shifted, gasses escaping in one long, foul exhale. Baz cursed as the rest of the lads laughed it up. 'Alright, alright! Simmer down!' Glancing around, the Captain took stock of their surroundings. Behind her, seated on horses and hogs of varying sizes and temperaments, the rest of the hunting party waited. Clad in glistening steel and black battledress, the men and women of the Blackshield Company knew when to talk, and when to keep their mouths shut.

Baz was unique in that regard. 'How long a lead do you give them?' Glancing at the man, Captain Agatha stretched her weary limbs. They had been in the saddle for four days now, tracking a group of raiders that had yet to materialise. Murderers and rapers, they had lain waste to dozens of holdings before the Tetrarch had seen fit to hire them.

His own men, though trained, had proven rather useless when it came to finding and crushing the raiders. From what Agatha had gleamed upon meeting the man, it seemed as if they had gotten the worse end of the stick. The bodies decorating the ground around her were proof enough of that.

'A day, give or take,' said Baz, pulling her from her reverie. 'They didn't leave a lick o' loot behind, so chances are they'll be bogged down and movin' slow.'

Chance. Gods, how she hated that word! 'All the same, I think it best we move on. No point allowing them even more of a head start.' There was an edge to her words that had all those gathered sitting up straighter. Baz nodded. 'Aye, Captain, as you say.' Hurrying on back to his horse, Agatha waited until he had remounted to address her people.

'Well, what're you waiting for?' She bellowed. 'Move out!'
 
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"Nothing doing boss."

"You want to be a little clearer there, corporal?" Cato asked with a sigh.

"Like I was saying, nothing doing. Bunch of bloaters and fuck all else."

The Blackshield sergeant leveled his gaze at the nondescript mercenary searching for further explanation and found nothing in the man's blank expression. Cato knew better than to expect anything more. Man was damned good at sniffing tracks but didn't have much else going on upstairs. Wasn't the worse problem to have if the mercenary was being honest. Simple was usually good when steel was involved.

"Sure there was nothing?"He asked a final time. The corporal gave him a dangerous look. Sort of look that said 'mind your own', sort of look that led to blood. Cato looked entirely unbothered as he waved another of his squad closer. This made for shit news but still told him something. "Send a rider to the captain. Ferholme was a bust. Moving to Llherrin as previously agreed."

A nod and she was off to find a quickfoot. They were about half day's west of the main company; the last place the raider's had hit. These bastards were too efficient by half, and the captain was keen on knowing why. Cato agreed, this whole thing stank worse than polgsteer shit. This became even clearer with the corporal's report. Bands like this didn't cover their tracks, no, they kept going like idiots until they ran themselves right into a shallow grave.

Cato called for the rest of the 'Shields to mount up. Something told him that they needed to make good time.
 
Ydris knelt with ease, his hands against the earth. He felt and listened while others jabbered and joked on their mounts. Yet Ydris did not stir, telling their noises and vibrations apart, he let out a growl. Complete silence, even the horses stopped their pacing and remained still and in line. "S-Sir.. Did we find anything?" Another Greenhorn asked as she peeked over the ledge he had gone down to check the bodies that had been dumped.

"Mount up.. We aren't far behind; they came through this mountain pass only days ago. Send word to the rest.. Stop dicking around before I toss you down below me." With ease, Ydris climbed back up the ridge side with both sets of arms. His armor rustled, but did not slow him down. Rolling his shoulders back, he crossed his second set of arms with ease.

Aye, sir! She was off as fast as her mount would carry her to deliver the message to Captain Agatha and the Sergeant, no doubt. Mounting his canine mixed beast, he snapped the reins, and they took off down the winding paths of the mountain pass. He had taken it upon himself to go a little further out than the last spotted sections. Hopefully it was enough or else they might have to deal with a very ill-temptered woman. Though Ydris did not mind the attitude, it was very fitting for his Captain, of course.
 
'Rider comin' in!'
'One o' ours?'
'What do you think, Baz? If it weren't, we'd be at swords right now.'

Scowling at his subordinate, the sergeant spat, drool adhering to his lip in the dry heat. 'Watch yer tongue, bastard, or I'll have it cut out!' Thoroughly chastised, the 'Shield made way with the rest as the rider bore on through, drawing up in front of the Captain with clipped reins. A crisp salute followed. Agatha smiled, pleased to see discipline restored.

'What've you got for me?' She asked, fist full of bristles as Big Hoof turned his head towards the newcomer, gave a grunt.

'Captain, Sergeant Cato sends his regards, and said to inform you that Ferholme's been cleared. No sightings, just bodies.' Clearing her throat, the rider continued, saying; 'They were on the move towards Llherrin when I left. Whoever these raiders are, they're damned good!' Agatha's smile broadened. 'Aren't they just,' she replied, deadpan. The rider got the message, sure as snow in Winter. The Captain sighed inwardly.

'Someone fetch a fresh horse. You!' She turned. 'Report back to the Sergeant. Tell him we're on the trail of a raiding group bearing west-north-west. Loot-laden. By my estimation, that should place them squarely in his path.' And then we'll have them, she thought, turning at the sound of hoofbeats. Hurried, and heavy.

'Rider comin' in-'
'Yeah, we can all see that, Groat! Fuckin' fool-ass.'
'One of Ebonarm's. Thinkin' they've found somethin?'
'Wouldn't be ridin' hell for leather if they hadn't.'

Big Hoof remained still as the newcomer slid to a halt, kicking up a plume of dust, and damn near sending herself flying headfirst over the front of her mount. Agatha heard a few snickers behind her, and something about 'greenies' she chose to ignore.

'Ma'am! Ebonarm reporting! We've tracked the enemy to the mountains. They came through three days past. I-in force.' No shit, mused the Captain, keeping her venom to herself. The mountain pass was news, but it made sense. The land surrounding Port Sulis was harsh and hard to work. Most grain was imported from the North to keep the city from starving. By land and by sea. Though it wasn't common knowledge, Agatha knew the Tetrarch and Ruling Council paid the Admiralty Board for protection.

Who better to keep pirates at bay than pirates?

Pausing, Agatha turned her gaze to the heavens, figured they had about three hours before it became too dark to track without endangering the horses. Or themselves. 'Alright,' she said. 'Return to Ebonarm. Let him know he's to regroup with us as fast as he is able. Tell him there's blood in the water.' That should get him moving, she smiled, small, and to herself.

'Dismissed!'
 
Turned out the raiding group's path was a little too goddamn square.

"Boss, we're seven moons fucked!"

Cato turned to the corporal with a curious look. "Need to work on your learning there, Shills. You're one short."

The other mercenary leveled an irritated gaze for the second time today. "Think I don't know that? Trying to tell you it's not completely gone to shit."

Could've fooled me. "So, what's the word?"

"We swept ahead nice and clean like. Figured these bastards been careful so far so might be a bit of welcoming party trying to catch us out. Wasn't expecting the whole godsdamned town to turn out."

Sounds of battle were getting closer by the moment and Cato knew he'd a choice to make. Cut bait and regroup, leaving the rest to their fate, or just trying to figure it the fuck out. Chances were the main contingent was already double-timing to their position, the captain was smart like that. Cato knew if he let them slip away here it was fool's odds trying to catch them up.

"You're still thinking these aren't the full body?" he asked, referring to the main host.

"Aye. Forward party, still. Could be they sent their best ahead..."

Wishful thinking meant things were properly serious. "Tell Vein to drag them back here good as he can. We'll buy the time the captain needs."
 
They'd gone a few more miles before stopping to overlook the land once again. The stench of salt and rotted wood tingled through his nostrils. Each merc sat in hidden positions, their mounts tied up a ways back from the clearing. The big man kept his eyes through the telescope as his other hand began taking notes on parchment paper. Ydris blinked slowly, looking out over the coastal city. The sound of hooves turned him around as his scout came stumbling back. Bowlegged, she slid down the dirt path, landing beside Ydris himself. "R-Report! The captain says double time back, there's blood in the water.." She slightly panted the words before the large orc rose.

"Form up! We've got throats to cut!" He did not waste time, speeding up the hill, his unit mounted. All smiles and elbows for what was to come. It would not due to the late.. Late for a crucial date. Sliding into the saddle, he did not bother to wait for the troop; he moved on ahead as was his nature. Behind him, the rest raced armed to the teeth and whooping their way like madmen.
 
They arrived with the last of the light. Warriors in black, brandishing banners of midnight and gold. The infantry, those fortunate enough to own mounts, dismounted, fanning out into formation before the burning village. Sergeants and lieutenants brought order to the chaos, using words and weapons to encourage the men into line.

The boar riders stayed a-saddle, their lighter counterparts making up for their lack of numbers.

'Hear that? Sounds like there's a scrap goin' on!' Rider Jaffar grinned, the prospect of fighting in the dark doing little to dampen his ardour. There was a murmur amongst the troop. Fighters of like mind and steady heart chomping at the bit after so long set to hoofing it, or else wearing down valuable boot leather.

'Messenger comin' in! Another one of Ebonarm's?' As it so happened, it was. A new face, lost in shadow. Agatha heard his report, sent him away with a message of her own.

'Seems our wayward brothers didn't want to miss the party.' Turning, Agatha gestured for the Company's tame shroudweavers to step closer. 'Give us some light, please. I see figures massing amongst the ruins.' They had arrived too late to save the village, but there might yet be some souls left in need of aid. Absent moons hid themselves behind thick clouds as the weavers tossed up flares. Potent magic meant to guide and reveal.

Enemy. Men on horseback and afoot, flitting amidst the wreck of Llherrin. From the way they were moving, they seemed panicked. Prone to flight.

Agatha wouldn't let them.

'All elements, forward! Sergeant Baz! Take thirty riders and circle the village! Find and reinforce Sergeant Cato, if you can. Failing that, cut off their escape.'

'Rules of engagement, Captain?' Sergeant Baz asked, hooves thumping, steel glinting in the shroudlight.

'No rules, Baz. Kill every bastard you come across. Spare no-one!' The sergeant grinned a blocky grin, saluted, as one ought to their Captain. 'As you command,' he said, tugging at his horse's reins. 'Let's go, lads! Quick 'n calm!'
 
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The situation escalated to a bit more than a scrap for Cato and his bunch. Vein did his best to keep things in place but was still pulled towards Llherrin proper. Even by this point there was no saving the village as it'd already been sacked by the main host. Still, between the ambush and stragglers there were more than enough bastards at hand. Fortunately Cato's squad knew their business pretty well. Ducking between alleys, in and out of houses, splitting numbers was where they were at their best. Vein was careful not to get pulled into a pitched battle in the center of the village and eventually retreated to regroup with his sergeant.

Cato did an hour before, what Baz was about to do again. He circled to the north of the village intent on cutting off escape. Problem was that it worked a little too well.

"Boss! 'member that whole seven moons thing I said earlier? I'm thinking we're properly eight-mooned now. Why ain't these bastards going down easy?"

Yanking his dagger clear of a throat, Cato took a moment to consider the corporal's observation. The man, surprisingly, had a point. Usually the stragglers still picking for scraps weren't cream of the crop. 'Course that was the case when you dealt with normal bandits and these bastards were proving to be anything but.

"You can ask that insane god you pray if you bite it Shills but until then, I don't give a damn whether its easy or hard. Just put 'em down and put em down for good. I may be a nice guy but the Captain isn't as forgiving." That earned a snort from Shills. Cato's words weren't just meant for the corporal but the others in earshot as well. They'd been in enough tough spots to know the outlook was bleak. He'd considered retreat but their legs wouldn't carry them far enough, fast enough. Also good odds that there was some other bunch out there waiting to catch them out.

Only thing left to do was keep swinging his blade 'till it went dull and trust the other 'Shields with the rest.
 
'My Creed is simple.. So long as your conviction is true, your character steadfast, and your will indomitable, we ride as comrades after your first letting you become family.' Code of Ydris, Bonds and Brotherhood.

"Ride to our fellow Shields! Right Column, stay to the field and sweep; Left Column, with me! Into the city!" Ydris bellowed as his group broke the tree line. In two groups, shaped like two small wedges, they drove home. The right side peels off to skirmish in the fields, shields up and spears leveled, plowing into a mess of enemy troops. "Support Captain Agotha!" A wild whoop rolled through the group as steel rang out. Keeping toward the tree line, the column swept back and forth, checking for any possible advancing troops from cover.

Secondry hands pulled free a greatsword and a heavy axe. He swung both, cleaving through shield and armor. The force of the clash sent vibrations up his spine to a gleeful smile. If only he had brought his Thrasher's gear, it would have been a beautiful sight to see. He could smell it even now, the air thick with iron and plasma. Adjusting his grip with his knees, another hand stroked the neck of his mount. Their trajectory arched in towards the village, soon dismounting as they closed the gap.

"Stick together in groups! Clean up this vermin. Group clearing of buildings only! Get to work!" Ydris barked his orders slipping out of the saddle. His lower arms shifted and swung, cutting down two in front of him. His primary arms took up a shield and a Battle Hammer. Marching forward, his men paired off and grouped up, moving loosely. Every couple of yards, enemies would pop out only to be skewered and slaughtered on sight. With the embers and flames alike, shadows danced like a festival of possession. Unclear and secretive in the layers of darkness. Wait, layers? A shimmer of steel flashed out on Ydris's right from the stone walls' length. Pairing with the shield in his right hand, the second right hand lashed out with the heavy axe, biting armor and flesh. "Spear those walls, set them ablaze if needs be. The shadows are not our friends here. They've got some assassins in the fold.." Were they instead the ones being hunted? Was it a trap?

Backing up slowly, he stood surrounded by those who remained with him. He needed to check something. Placing a bare hand on the earth, he inhaled and began to listen.
 
The Heavies moved in as Agatha expected them to, keeping the ranks nice and tight as the first arrows began to fall upon black shields. Lengthy shadows stretched behind the companymen. Shroudflares revealed yet more foes, scurryinging around like rats fleeing a sinking ship. Bows and blades were brandished. Jeers and japes exchanged, though few among the brethren understood the queer tongue with which the enemy spoke.

At least they bled the same.

Spurring her hog forwards, the Captain eased her sword from its scabbard, the silverite blade shining like the Midnight Sun. All who looked upon it admired its beauty yet feared its kiss. A good weapon, Agatha mused, is only as dangerous as the one who wields it. An old lesson. And valuable.

Smoke stung the Captain's eyes as she led her riders west to encircle the village. Torches bobbed through the night. A dusk-skinned skirmisher wearing a lamellar harness crossed her path. She cut him down without a second's hesitation.

The rest of his company fared much the same. Axes hacked down. Iron-tipped war lances were thrust into throats and bellies.

Wheeling, Agatha led her bodyguard through a small thicket, spooking the wildlife that hid within. One such animal wore a stained tunic, and swore like a sailor when the strongest of her men hauled him up by the collar to throw him across the front of their steed. 'What happened here?' The she-ork demanded of the villager.

When he didn't respond, the rider slapped him about the head.

'Answer the Captain!'

'I-I don't know, Lady!' The man stuttered. 'We- weren't so long past some men came a-calling, askin' after raiders and th' like,' he swallowed, lips dry, voice like granite. 'Wore black, they did, with some skull-faced wench on their badges.' Lady Fortune. Lady Death, thought Agatha. She smiled knowingly.

'What then?'

'We told them we didn't know, like, an' they rode on. Only, not an' hour later and they was back again, shoutin' and hollerin', commandin' us to get inside and barricade our doors,' the villager croaked. 'Then, the raiders arrived... Like locusts, they were, swarmin'. So many... So so many.'

Bladesong brought the Captain back to the moment. A gesture, and the villager was released. Away he slunk. The shields did not follow. 'We ride,' she told her troop. 'Get in, get gutting, get out. Rinse and repeat until the job's done. All clear?'

'Aye!'
'Yup!'
'Yessir!'
 
They were in it well and proper now; A godsdamned, shroudfucked, blood-spilling melee. For every bastard they dropped, another two seemed to take their place. Roaches skittering out of every little village corner. Cato grabbed a dagger from the hip of a fallen 'Shield, face bashed in past the point of recognition. Whoever it was, they weren't likely to begrudge him and even if they did, the sergeant didn't particularly care. He'd worn one blade dull and lost his other in the belly of some bastard. If they made it through this, the smithies might just kill 'em anyways.

Cato used this brief lull to take stock but knew there was little point in giving orders now, if anything it was like to have the opposite effect. Those familiar with each other already formed 'trips', a standard three-pronged formation once favored by the Empire's legions but bettered by the 'Shields. The others, well they handled business in their own ways...

Koffe, a half-mad mage from 'Send, hurled spells and insults in equal measure.

Vish, once a knifehand for Empire nobility, skulked in the shadows 'till he saw a throat to open.

Mei Dan, a mystery even among their eclectic unit. She could handled herself in a fight and that's all that mattered.

The sound of a horn rang over steel and death.

"Mark!" A familiar voice shouted. Not a name but a command. Any 'Shield still standing tapped a small rune etched into their armor just behind the shoulder. It illuminated a small sigil, and nothing else yet the need became apparent as Baz's boars bounded into view. Cato watched with satisfaction as the newly arrived 'Shields made quick work of their foes. The rest of the unit was quick to cut down those who were still foolish enough to stick around.

"Guess I owe you a round at 'Grunts when we get back," Cato said, wiping blood from blade.

"More like the whole damned tavern," barked Baz.

He's not wrong. It had been a close thing, closer than Cato wanted to admit.

"So what's the play?"

"Cap wanted to make sure we close the door on them," the boar-mounted sergeant looked to the carnage. "Thinking we slammed it shut. But she also didn't seem too keen on letting any of these bastards walk out of here but there's a bit too many for comfort."

Cato couldn't help but agree. The other 'Shields may have eventually pushed the bastards right into their lap but the numbers were worrying.

"Leave two squads here and push in?"

Baz gave a quick nod of agreement before mustering the rest of the Blackshields.
 
Panicked steps reached his senses as he probed the earth. Aside from burning flames and the rumble of hooves, Ydris got a decent picture of the grounds. Unseen but not unheard, retreating steps to the last gate they had to escape. Shifting, he gestured for his men to move.

During this time, the first five buildings had been cleared several heartbeats at a time. Only a hand's worth was lost at this point; undoubtedly more would follow suit.

"There are scampering mice about, let not one escape your grasp lest they say the Black Shields are still wet behind the ears.." Ydris's voice rumbled like thunder as he rose to his feet, a right hand rose as he halted another few squads to join him.

"Send the Signal.. Bring the rest of our group back! You lot will bolster the ranks, then send two squads to follow after me into the center. Let none escape!" Ydris began his walk towards his enemies, each squad flanked his slow progress. Broad sweeps brought heavy weapons across leather and flesh alike. Bodies spiralled off left and right as four arms worked methodically in diesecting his opposition.

Beating the shield, the shroud coursed through his veins as he danced. Shield, Sword, Axe, Shield, Hammer, Axe, Sword, Hammer, and Axe. His arms worked in a blur of seamless practice and ease. At his back, the two squads moved in step and cadence. There were no words, only a steady hum of their voices as they enjoyed their work.

From the gate, two flares were sent off in the direction of the main field. "To the city, you scoundrels! Piper's voice cut clean through the air as her column wheeled, cutting a path through a mess of bodies the Boars bowled down and trampled any who did not part the way. A gentle twang from her left brought Gale into view as he rode low in the saddle. The short bow blurred as he released shot after shot. Already, he had emptied two of his five spare quivers, and hopefully he hadn't missed a shot! As the gate came into view, several signals were relayed before the group broke down again. Some of the columns stopped, the other moved forward and through the ranks towards Ydris.

From ruin to ruin, bloody fields to cobbled streets, it made no difference. The adrenaline high that Piper and Gale felt was unmistakable. A blood lust for combat and all things dangerous.
 
The bodyguard rolled like thunder through the village, war axes glinting as they hacked down, iron beards trailing banners of blood as they hew a path to victory. Boars squealed. Men screamed. Around them, fires raged long into the night, choking the sky with smoke, blotting out the light of shroudflares and celestial bodies, so very far beyond the reach of those battling beneath them.

The boars did most of the work. Raiders scattered left and right, or else threw themselves flat in the hope that they might be spared. Those that exposed their backs were cut down or run through. The hopefuls were trampled to death.

'More than I expected there to be,' Jaffar crowed, sticking close to the Captain as the drove wheeled, seeking more foemen to fell.

Armour rattled with every bounding step. An arrow creased Agatha's bicep. Growling, the she-ork cast about for the shooter, golden eyes burning through the slit of her visor. 'There!' She marked the archer where he sheltered in the lee of a chimney stack. Riders stood tall in their stirrups as they galloped past. Arrow nocked, the raider stepped out to loose once more, only for a javelin to snatch him off his feet. Two more passed through the spot he had occupied, disappearing into the darkness beyond.

Leading her band deeper into the burning village, Agatha held her blade aloft, sweeping it down and to the right as the ground opened up before her. The pond around which the village had been built was full of dark forms. Shadows in lamellar and leather. Corralled there by the footmen clearing those buildings as yet untorched.

Ornate bows loosed arrows at the riders. A magehand levelled a staff at Agatha, and was snuffed for his troubles.

Good looking out, Squirrel, the Captain glanced over her shoulder at the weaver in question, then ahead again as Ebonarm's band made their appearance.

What remained of Cato's patrol popped up a moment later opposite the pond. Sergeant Baz led the way, though even from a distance Agatha did not fail to notice he spent more directing his shields than he did fighting alongside them.
 
Step-by-step, street-by-street, Shield-by-Shield. The bastards who'd stacked Llherrin didn't give it up easy. Good progress was still made mostly 'cause of Baz's folks, proper frontliners through and through. 'Course you'd have to pull a few teeth to get Cato to admit it. Each squad had their own pride, and rivalry among them was common. Cato's irregulars didn't care much for it, mostly 'cause they were too busy trying to shank each other. Their general indifference ironically is what chafed the other units. He did his best to keep things level but Cato couldn't control how another person thought. 'Long as they kept their grievances within the Company codes, heads stayed on necks.

A solid hour of bloody fighting brought them in sight of the main host. The other sergeant was quick to give orders and bounded off with the rest of the boars towards the Captain.

Cato looked 'round to see who was still standing. As ever, he wasn't sure whether to be happy or disappointed that so many of these twisted bastards survived.

"Shills, you're coming with me to report to the Captain." The corporal gave a knowing look. Cato scanned the remaining mercs and found his least-worst option.

'Vein, clean up here and then make sure we're ready to move. Don't think the Captain is going to be keen on enjoying any more of Lherrin's hospitality." Cato noted that a few others bristled as the other corporal's name was called out. There was a good reason for that, he scared pretty much everyone shitless and that included the company sergeant. The man's name was earned because he opened them as good as any killer out there.

Cato saddled up and headed towards the main unit with his corporal in tow until he found himself before the Captain, Baz unexpectedly already at her side. He figured the other sergeant would've already talked the counts.

"Nights keep getting longer..."
 
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