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>>1701629
Taking in the situation, you make a snap decision. Pointing to a random knight, you say, "Gather the rest, and find a way up the hill, to take them from behind. We shall stay behind, to delay them. Understood?"

Nodding sharply, the knight salutes you, and wheels his horse around, galloping towards the rest of the battlefield.

Taking a breath, you raise your sword and shout. "Dismount!"

Slamming your helm's visor shut, you leap from your horse, keeping a tight grip on your sword and shield. Landing alongside your brethren, beside Kathrin, and followed by Edgar, who bears your banner, you stare at the Legion soldiers, who look down at you nervously, clearly unnerved after what you did to their comrades. They are surely about to break soon, you just need to press them.

Striding forward evenly, even over the rocky terrain, you get your shield ready, and bark out a single order in German, a language that these men before you have likely never heard before. "Advance!"

You're about halfway up the hill, when you see the Legionnaires readying for a pilum throw, so you get low, and raise your shield, making sure that you're a smaller target.

"Get down!" Your men, with training and discipline, borne of years of training and field experience, follow your order immediately, and just in time, too, as the majority of the spears fly over their heads, and those that don't, clatter against the rocks near them and glance off their shields, poorly-maintained bronze heads bending, breaking, or simply bouncing off, dull.

>>1701631
Standing up, you advance quickly, moving at a fast clip, hoping to engage the Century before it throws its pilum again. Swinging your sword as a command, the rest of the knights follow, their swords shining crimson in the afternoon sun, covered in the blood of Legion troops.

Breaking into a run as you get closer to the shield wall, you slam into the tower shield, managing to dent it while knocking the Legionnaire down, acting as a steel-plated human battering ram.

Simply stabbing him in the face, you raise your shield to deflect several blows from the gladius, and step back, eyeing the situation. You now have a chink in the front line's armor, a vulnerable point. It won't be too long before they take measures to fix this, either.

Slashing at the soldiers experimentally, you gauge their reactions, and seeing an opening, you take the chance, lunging forward, and stabbing the soldier in the armpit, where the bronze armor doesn't cover, and their guard was lowered. You receive a strike on your shoulder for your trouble, but your steel plate protects you from the worst of it.

Kathrin, however, has your back, and she chops off the offending soldier's hand, and while he's stunned, shoves aside his tower shield, stabbing him in the gut. Even Edgar is getting his blows in, guarding your left flank, just as Kathrin does your right.

The battle is most certainly in your favor, but the Legionnaires are showing odd resolve for conscripts. You're surprised that they haven't begun to flee by now.

>Roll 1d100, Best of 3

Rolled 72 (1d100)

>>1701636

Rolled 1 (1d001)

>>1701636

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>1701636

>>1701647
Don't scare me like that.

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>1701636

>>1701692
:^)

>>1701638
>>1701692
>>1701698

>72

Hot diggity damn.

Writing.

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>>1701636

The Century, however, does not resist for long, though, and they wither under the assault from your knights, trampling themselves trying to get away, running from the battle. Of course, most of them don't get far, and are cut down by the longswords and maces of your men.

This proves to be the breaking point for the other centuries that remain, and they start to run in a mad dash in two directions, one Century towards the archers, and another down a path that leads into the valley.

The first century, heading towards your archers, drop like flies, as their formation, the only defense they had against arrow fire, falls apart. The hundred men try and at least make it to the line of archers, but they are met by a blistering barrage from a green-clad archer that could only be Cellica.

The accuracy of her shots is amazing, always managing to strike a Legionnaire in a vital spot, even if they have their shield raised. And... she says this is average bowmanship for Elves? You should have borrowed a few archers from Wyrran.

The other Century doesn't fare much better, and begins down the path, when it meets a wall of men in ringed steel, sharp swords, and armored horseflesh. Rather than fight, half of the Century doesn't even bother, and throws their weapons away, dropping to their knees, but the other half, out of panic, rushes the knights, getting cut down like so much chaff.

Taking a deep breath, you wipe your sword on your tabard, and sheathe it, looking around you, checking the condition of your men. A few have injuries, but nothing too serious, and nothing that the monks can't take care of.

Wading through a pile of corpses down the hill, you walk towards your archers, and prepare to give them their post-battle orders alongside your knights. This was an easy victory, and it's sure to raise the spirits of your men.

>>1701819
Several hours later, back at your camp, you stand alongside your fellow Knight-Captains, looking down upon the bound and kneeling Legionnaires, your captives. Your comrades are quite divided as what to do with them, however.

"We NEED to get rid of them! What if one of them escapes, and brings word to the rest of the Legion?" Sir Veit hisses, jabbing his finger in Sir Guies' face. "We can't take the risk of thousands of men coming down upon us!"

Guies shakes his head, and points right back. "It's not honorable, milord, and what's more, it's not right. I'm not going to debase us by doing this!"

Sigmund and Gunther seem to back Guies, adding to his argument, while, surprisingly, Sebastian and Aedilhun agree with Veit.

The older Teuton backs his argument with a calm expression, and a didactic tone, as if he's a monk tutoring some young lord.

"Veit is right. Besides, how are we going to travel with almost a hundred men on foot, in chains? In Iberia, we had to make decisions like this before. We could not provide provisions enough for a large force of Moors we had captured, so we had to slaughter them all. Believe me, I did not like it either, but it was necessary."

Both arguments are compelling, you suppose. Your heart is not something you can ignore, and it's screaming at you that this is wrong, that you shouldn't even be considering this. On the other hand, Sebastian is a veteran of the wars in Iberia, fighting against the Moors, and a great soldier and general, and his advice has always been sound.

What are you going to do?

>"No. We can't do this. It's not right, and it perverts every rule of honourable war."
>"We... have to. We don't know what's in the valley, and we can't provide for them. It'd be a mercy, starving is a worse death."
>"If we kill the lowborn soldiers, the officers won't have any force to rally. And the weight on our soul would be less."
>Write-in.

>>1701823
>"We... have to. We don't know what's in the valley, and we can't provide for them. It'd be a mercy, starving is a worse death."

Evening ath

>>1701823
"Do it."

>>1701823
>"We... have to. We don't know what's in the valley, and we can't provide for them. It'd be a mercy, starving is a worse death."

>>1701823
>>"We... have to. We don't know what's in the valley, and we can't provide for them. It'd be a mercy, starving is a worse death."

As much as I'd like to say different, War is rarely a matter of honor. It's a luxury we cannot afford at the moment.

>>1701825
Evenin'
>>1701829
>>1701831
>>1701833

>"We... have to. We don't know what's in the valley, and we can't provide for them. It'd be a mercy, starving is a worse death."

Writing.

>>1701823

Your heart wrenches as you make your decision, but you have to do it. There isn't any certainty to your situation beyond the simple fact that you cannot keep these men alive for any extended period of time.

..... You just wonder what you're going to tell Cellica.

Clearing your throat with a sombre expression, you look at Sigmund, Gunther, and Guies apologetically.

"We... have to. We don't know what's in the valley, and we can't provide for them. It'd be a mercy, starving is a worse death."

Growling, Guies throws his hands up in the air, and stomps off, cursing up a storm in his strange language as he disappears into the camp. Sigmund, however, takes a different approach.

"Mein Prinz- Victor. Do you truly believe that this is what we need to do? You are staking men's lives, and your conscience, on the unknown. No one knows what is beyond that ridge. It could be farmland. It could be a trade kingdom, with ample provisions for these prisoners. You don't know."

You just look down, not answering. If you did, you might change your mind.

Sebastian and Veit intervene for you.

"Sigmund, this isn't a question of what's right or not." The oldest knight in the army places his hand on your friends' shoulder. "It's simple numbers. If there's naught but stone and snow, they would starve, and even if we shared our provisions with them, they would be an unreasonable drain on our resources."

Sigmund says nothing, but you can feel him stare at you, then he turns away, walking off. "... Very well then."

Gunther, who you have never seen bear malice towards any man, gives you a baleful eye, and strides off into the night, silently and with grace.

Veit, with uncharacteristic kindness, pats your shoulder, gripping it. "I knew you had sense. And that must've been hard." Nodding, you don't trust yourself to say anything, and gulp down air, clenching your fists. Aedilhun looks at you sadly, and then unsheathes his sword, nodding to nearby knights, who look on with stony faces.

"Let's get this done, then."

>"... The man who issues the sentence should wield the blade. I'm with you."
>"I can't do this. I'm sorry."
>Write-in.

>>1701917
>>Write-in.
>"... The man who issues the sentence should wield the blade. I'm with you."

>>1701917
>"... The man who issues the sentence should wield the blade. I'm with you."

>>1701917
>"... The man who issues the sentence should wield the blade. I'm with you."
Ned Stark this bitch. Have some spine.

>>1701917
>"... The man who issues the sentence should wield the blade. I'm with you."

>>1701917
I'm clearly outnumbered, but I say let the executioners do it. Doing it ourselves is either sadistic, masochistic, or both.

>>1701925
>>1701927
>>1701932
>>1701935
>"... The man who issues the sentence should wield the blade. I'm with you."

Writing.

>>1701973
It's imparting the weight of our choices onto us, to help us understand the realities and consequences of his choices. It's easier to just make this choice more lightly if we aren't seeing it through.

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>>1701917

Unsheathing your sword with the faint rasp of metal on leather, you nod, with a hard, pained look on your face.

"... The man who issues the sentence should wield the blade. I'm with you."

Striding forward, you set yourself to your grim task, trying to ignore their cries for mercy, and the tears in their eyes.

You fail.

------------------------------------------------------

Retching, you bend over, as the contents of your morning meal come back up the wrong way. You have killed men in battle before, but...this is different. Panting, you take deep gulps of the night air, which, even from here, smells like copper and rotting meat.

Wiping your mouth, you stand up, but are hit by a wave of nausea, and have to put your hands on your knees, dry heaving.

"Victor?"

You freeze at the Wood Elf's voice. Cellica. You were waiting for this, although you didn't look forward to it.

Turning around, you wearily look at the ginger, who looks down at you, eyes filled with fury.

"So I guess that 'we're different than them, we're not murderers,' was a line, to keep me around, huh? You know, you really had me fooled. I..." She takes a shuddering breath, and then continues, voice bitter. "I trusted you, Victor."

>"I'm nothing like those men. I had no choice."
>"The situations were completely different, Cellica. Don't judge me."
>"This is war. This is what happens."
>"It was a necessity. I did not order their deaths out of malice."
>Write-in.

>>1702087
>>"It was a necessity. I did not order their deaths out of malice."
>>We have neither the provisions to provide for them nor the time to scout the valley or ride back to the camp. These men were dead either way.

>>1702112
+1

>>1702087
>>"This is war. This is what happens."
>>"It was a necessity. I did not order their deaths out of malice."

>>1702112
I mean, not quite. We could theoretically have just made for the valley and banked on there being food there. It would've been a fairly bad idea, but it was possible.

>"It was a necessity. I did not order their deaths out of malice."
Don't tell her to not judge us. Just present the facts.

>>1702112
>>1702119
>>1702124
>>1702148
>"It was a necessity. I did not order their deaths out of malice."

Writing.

>>1702087

"It was a necessity. I did not order their deaths out of malice."

You simply state this, letting it stand for itself. You made your decision, as much as it pained you to do it, and you will follow it through.

Cellica, however, doesn't accept this, instead turning red with anger.

"You think that's what this is about? It's not whether you felt angry and upset while you did it, it's that you did it!"

Jabbing her finger into your chest, she continues her tirade.

"It's murder, plain and simple, Victor, no matter the reason for it!"

Looking her in the eyes, you say, softly, "How many men did you kill today?"

Sputtering, she backs up, shocked, looking like she was verbally slapped. "It's not the same, and you know it, Victor!"

Shaking your head, you continue.

"We have neither the provisions to provide for them nor the time to scout the valley, or ride to the camp. These men were dead either way."

Looking at Cellica, your features harden.

"This is war, Celly. This is what happens when we have to make hard decisions."

The ginger just spits at the ground in between you, and stomps off, giving you a gesture that you assume is quite rude in Mornaur.

"Fuck off, Victor. It still wasn't right."

As she leaves, you sigh. The world is much more complicated, now.

You don't think you like it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours later, you're off somewhere else, looking at the stars, skin of wine in hand. You've tried to not think about what just happened, but your thoughts keep drifting. And with the wine, you keep becoming more and more morose, despite the growing numbness you feel.

A familiar, welcome voice comes from beside you, as your friend sits down next to you.

Who is it?
>Kathrin
>Marcus
>Natalia
>Sigmund
>Sebastian

>>1702247
>>Marcus

>>1702247
>Sebastian
I don't even remember who this is. Let's do it.

>>1702247
>>Marcus

>>1702247
>Marcus

>>1702261
>>1702280
>>1702298

>Marcus

Writing.

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>>1702247

You look up, and see one of your oldest friends, Marcus, next to you.

"Hello there. Mind if I join you?"

Shaking your head, you sit next to each other in silence, before Marcus breaks the quiet.

"If it means anything... I understand why you did it. I wouldn't have done it, myself, but..." He pats you on the shoulder consolingly. "I understand, my friend."

You ask, "Where's Cellica," hanging your head, lost in your thoughts, "is she even still here?"

Marcus winces at that, and then pats your shoulder again.

"No, she rode back to Mornaur, after denouncing us. It was harsh. She's been gone for a few hours, now."

Taking a swig of the wineskin, you swallow, and stand up, motioning to the battleground around you, and spinning, requiring Marcus to catch you.

"What even's the point, Marcus? Why're we even still going? We're nowhere close to home, we might not even get there, and we've been driven to this."

Looking up at you quietly, Marcus asks you a single question.

"Would it be any simpler back in the Levant, though?"

This question gives you pause, and you think on it.

>"...No, not really."
>"Yes, of course! The Moors and Saracens are evil conquerors! It's straightforward and simple."
>"I don't know. Maybe."
>Write-in.

>>1702397
>"...No, not really."

>>1702397
>>"...No, not really."
>I should've know war wasn't the best profession for a man of faith. Leaves a terrible stain on the soul.

>>1702397
>>"...No, not really."

>>1702410
>>1702422
>>1702426

>"...No, not really."

Writing.

>>1702397
>"shortsighted and foolish, The saracens are shortsighted and foolish but not evil"

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>>1702397

You sigh, taking another swig.

"...No, not really."

Thinking on it, you say something else, sinking even deeper into your malaise.

"Although..." Another sigh. "I should've known war wasn't the best profession for a man of faith. Leaves a terrible stain on the soul."

Marcus gets quiet at that, thinking about what you said.

"I don't know. I think men of faith are needed, in war, to keep it from becoming motivated by greed and tyranny, and to protect the innocent."

Giving you a weak smile, Marcus stands up, and pulls you tight, putting his arm around you.

"Come, let's head back to camp. We'll have a better head on our shoulders in the morning, eh?"

Offering him some wine, you walk back to camp, feeling like you are being judged by the cool light of the stars overhead.

------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, the column leaves the scene of the battle behind, heading down into the valley, but your guilt remains, riding with you, like an unwanted companion.

However, you are gladdened by one thing, although it is mildly worrying for your army's long-term survival. The ground is rocky, covered with long grass and weeds, not the best for farming, and the hills seem to be strangely absent of game. It eases your conscience, somewhat, but the burden still remains.

At the top of one hill, you see there are two paths, one that leads slightly downwards, into an area where there are trees and scrub, and another one, further to the east, that stays at (relatively) the same altitude.

Which did your companions decide upon?

>Trees and scrub.
>East, with more tall grass.
>Neither, you sent scouts along both paths, and waited.
>Write-in.

>>1702613
>East, with more tall grass.
This is the one our cav can probably handle better. Probably cooler shit at the trees and scrub, though.

>>1702613
>>Trees and scrub.

>>1702613
>Neither, you sent scouts along both paths, and waited.

>>1702613
>Neither, you sent scouts along both paths, and waited.
Swapping to this, since I feel bad for QM stuck with a threeway tie.

>>1702645
>>1702705

>Neither, you sent scouts along both paths, and waited.

Writing

bless you, nfBMmX1Z

>>1702613

You decided to send scouts down both paths, Kathrin going with a Yeoman to the wooded area, and two Yeomen from the village going to the grassy area. It wouldn't hurt to scout ahead, and you have the provisions to wait for a decent amount of time, although, had you kept the prisoners, it would be more of a crisis.

It takes the better part of a day for the scouts to return, Kathrin and the three others reporting directly to the Knight-Captain council.

Apparently, there is a light in the distance, on the grassy path, some sort of waystation or signal fire. They could not see it to confirm what it is, but it gives you a direction to travel towards.

On the other hand, in the scrubland downhill, there are several signs of civilization, including a wagon track that cut through a small wooded area, several waist-high stone walls most likely meant for pastures, and a small grave in a clearing.However, there is something strange to it.

There are only birds in the scrub. None of the usual foxes or deer, but only birds. Something either scared them off, or hunted them to death. You don't know which option is better, out of the two of those.

Pondering this information, you eventually decided upon...

>Scrub.
>Grass.

>>1702805
>>Grass.

>>1702805
>Grass.

>>1702805
>Grass.

>>1702813
>>1702828
>>1702831

>Grass.

Writing.

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4.09 MB PNG

>>1702805

...Heading up to the grassy area, visibility will be much better, and to be perfectly honest, something about the way Kathrin described the lack of animals unnerves you.

After a few miles, you can see much farther, marveling at the view. It's so open, and you can see forever. You saw something similar, when you came to the deserts of the Levant, but it wasn't quite as... vertical as this one.

Travelling at a fast clip, you quickly come within sight of the waystation, a small silhouette atop a hill, framed by the blue, clear sky.

As you get closer, you begin to see movement around the small tower. However, it's strange... The figures seem to be... larger than normal.

That's quite odd.

(Continued)

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>>1702954

"What... the... fuck?"

A nearby knight curses as the figures become clearer, more distinct. Whatever that... thing is, it's most certainly not human, and around it, lie several unmoving figures, dressed in the clothes of a freeman.

You hear screams from within the tower. A woman's.

Spurring Gunnar forward, you draw your sword, and charge towards the beast, who starts shouting at the appearance of your army, and takes a vicious-looking axe from his belt. With a roar, he... charges you?

Stunned with surprise, you don't react when the green-skinned monster hacks wildly at Gunnar, which, luckily, the warhorse dodges, rearing up, and planting a hoof in the monster's face. However, this isn't enough to put it down, and you swing down at it with your broadsword, cutting it deeply.

It howls with rage, pain, and anger, and, while spraying its' own black blood everywhere with its' flailing, jumps up, tackling you off your horse. Grunting as you land on the ground, you barely dodge the monster's axe, which digs into the dirt beside your head.

Just as the monster is about to try again, with a swipe of her longsword, Kathrin half-decapitates the beast, causing it to gurgle and moan, while it falls back, off you.

From within the waystation, you hear the woman's scream yet again.

Rushing forward on foot, you hold your sword with two hands, ready for whatever you might encounter. There.

A green monster, currently... engaged with a peasant woman, turns around, roaring with frustration and rage. It lets off something that sounds like they could be words, before leaping at you, barehanded.

Battering it back with blows from your sword, you hack at it, until its' face is naught but a bloody mess, and it lies twitching on the floor.

Switching gears, you turn your attention to the poor woman, who lies sobbing in the middle of the room.

>(Dress her and bring her to the column. Let her ride with you.)
>(Ask her what these things are.)
>(Look for more of these things, check upstairs.)
>Write-in.

>>1703030
>>(Look for more of these things, check upstairs.)

>>1703030
>(Look for more of these things, check upstairs.)
Not safe until we know it's safe.

>>1703030
>(Look for more of these things, check upstairs.)

>>1703037
>>1703040
>>1703059
>(Look for more of these things, check upstairs.)

Writing.

>>1703030

Passing the woman, you leave her to whomever followed you in, and run up the stairs. You would help the woman, but there could be one of those monsters hiding upstairs.

And like Providence smiled down upon you, there one is, lying flat on the floor, trying to hide under the half-wall of the lookout station, beside the metal bowl in the center, which is the signal fire.

Raising his thick, muscular hands in surrender, he says, in broken Latin, "Surr-ender! Surrender!"

You point the tip of your sword down at his neck, while he looks nervously at it, cross-eyed.

He can talk, which indicates SOME semblance of sapience. However, he is simple enough to almost count as a beast on the Great Chain.

Also, does a thing like this deserve mercy? And if not mercy, can you keep your men from killing it long enough for it to tell you what you need to know about it?

A you hear heavy footfalls following you up the stairs, a knight.

You only have a second to make your decision.

>(Kill it.)
>(Squeeze it for basic information, then kill it.)
>(Interrogate it properly, get knights to restrain it.
>Write-in.

>>1703175
>You only have a second to make your decision.

>>1703175
>>(Interrogate it properly, get knights to restrain it.

>>1703175
Replying on mobile
>3

>>1703175
>(Squeeze it for basic information, then kill it.)
Whoops

>>1703175
>(Squeeze it for basic information, then kill it.)

>>1703175
>>(Squeeze it for basic information, then kill it.)

>>1703246
>>1703203
>>1703196

>(Squeeze it for basic information, then kill it.)

Writing.

>>1703175

You need to at least figure out what it IS, before you kill it.

Barking out orders in Latin, you hold your sword threateningly, and place a foot on its' chest, yelling into its' face.

"What are you? Why are you attacking these people? Where are you from? WHAT ARE YOU?"

The being stammers, keeping both eyes focused on following the point of the sword.

"Am orc! Raiding! South Eagle! " It stammers these out, trying to appease you.

Satisfied, you stab it in the eye, making sure to spike it through the brain.

Dragging the corpse to the half-wall, you roll it over, letting it fall, and hit the ground, startling the men gathered around, outside the waystation. Saluting them with your sword, you head back downstairs, to check on the woman.

Kathrin is currently the one helping the woman into her clothes, and letting her hold her tight, hugging her as if she was the only thing in the world.

Looking to you, Kathrin has a grim look on her face, and mouths, Did you get the bastard?

You just nod, and leave the waystation to tell the rest of the army what happened.

---------------------------------------------------------

You held a brief Christian funeral, and then buried the bodies nearby the waystation, marked by stones from the waystation wall.

You burned the monster's bodies. They made a thick, oily smoke when they ignited.

The woman, however, would not let go of Kathrin, for any length of time, so she rode behind her, while not sobbing anymore, incredibly silent. You could not get one word from her.

Following the road, to the village off in the distance, you ride next to the other Knight-Captains, who have joined you in the Van.

Sebastian, leaning in close, asks, "What WERE those things? I saw a brief glimpse before they were tossed on the pyre, but..."

Veit interrupts the older knight. "Tell me you had the sense to interrogate it."

You nod.

>"It's some demon of some sort."
>"Some sort of barbarians, like the Saracens, but green."
>"I don't know exactly what it is, but it's mortal, and can be killed."
>Write-in.

>>1703332
>"Some sort of barbarians, like the Saracens, but green."

>>1703332
>>"Some sort of barbarians, like the Saracens, but green."

>>1703332
>"I don't know exactly what it is, but it's mortal, and can be killed."
The least helpful thing to say, but the most fun thing to say. Although just throwing our hands in the air and calling everything demons would've been hilarious.

>>1703332
>"Some sort of barbarians, like the Saracens, but green."

>>1703338
>>1703345
>>1703395
>"Some sort of barbarians, like the Saracens, but green."

Writing.

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1.03 MB JPG

>>1703332

You struggle to give them an accurate description, (especially since the... Orc's? information was ever so helpful,) but you do your best.

"Some sort of barbarians, like the Saracens, but green. It called itself an... Orc." The word comes out of your mouth like phlegm. "And it said something about... Tribes, I think?"

The others absorb this information, and you continue.

"If you saw its' build, you'd know it's very strong, angry, and looks like it was born for violence.

"It, very easily, I might add, leaped up, and tackled me from my horse. So we need to be wary when facing these creatures."

Nodding silently, you continue alone, as the other Knight-Captains return to their warbands, to tell them of the monsters that reside in these lands.

---------------------------------

As you near the village, you look at it, noting all significant landmarks. Unsurprisingly, there are none, and it's the standard "small hamlet/village" you'd find everywhere across the countryside, even back home in Germany.

From this far away, you can't see any details of the figures, although you do see movement. However, there is always the possibility that this is a friendly village, and approaching with your entire army might be.. counterproductive to diplomacy.

What do you do?

>Approach with a warband.
>Approach with only the other Knight-Captains.
>Approach with the whole army.

>>1703507

>Approach with only the other Knight-Captains.

>>1703507
>>Approach with only the other Knight-Captains.
We can handle ourselves if a retreat is necessary.

>>1703507
>>approach with only the other knight captains

>>1703507
get some missionaries perhaps?

>>1703513
>>1703518
>>1703532
>Approach with only the other Knight-Captains.

Writing.

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>>1703507

Approaching with only the other Knight-Captains (and Kathrin) should be enough. You handled yourself against those beasts well enough last time, you could hold out until help arrives, should the village be occupied.

Riding somewhere near the middle of the group, with Natalia and Sebastian next to you, and Kathrin at your back, you stay on the lookout for any large green men. There's a sentence you never thought you'd act upon."Green men attacked me, so I'm watching for more."

From the village, a solitary figure approaches you, walking purposefully. As you get closer, you can tell it's a human, a male, only slightly older than you, yet heavyset with a beard.

Looking up to you, defiant, the peasant spits to the side, and says, "Yeah, what do yer wan?"

Blinking hard, you look to the rest of your Knight-Captains, who seem to nudge you forward. Natalia even kicks your leg, and you ride forward, APPARENTLY the one to negotiate with him.

"I am Lord Victor Reis, Knight-Captain of the Teutonic Order of Frankfurt, and I am a stranger to these lands. I wish to gain access to your village, so we can speak, and learn more of this valley."

The bearded man raises a single eyebrow. "Wordy one, aren't we?"

He chuckles, and waves it off, "Very well, you're free to come in with your friends here. But tell your army to wait the fuck up there, we don't have enough benches in the whole damn village to seat their asses."

Following him, you ride in silence, approaching the village.

>"What might your name, be, sir?"
>"What is this place?"
>"Do you know of green... things, named South Eagle, or something?"
>Write-in.

>>1703661
>"You uhh come here often"

>>1703661
>>"What might your name, be, sir?"

>>1703661
>"What might your name, be, sir?"

>>1703661
>"What is this place?"

>>1703681
>>1703682
>"What might your name, be, sir?"

Writing.

>>1703661

Last update and vote for the night.

"What might your name be, sir? I don't believe I caught it."

The man grunts as he steps over a rut in the track, and chuckles.

"I don't believe I gave it."

Riding for a few seconds in awkward silence, the man laughs out loud, and slaps his thigh.

"It's Sean Cully. The village Alderman."

This man... is not fond of giving information freely, is he.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Sean."

Nodding absentmindedly, he takes your reins and ties Gunnar to a post, and then does the same for the rest of the horses.

Jumping off your horse, you follow him inside his thatched hut, and sit with the rest of your fellows at a bench inside. Alderman Cully sits at the end of said table, in a comfy-looking chair, and says, "Well then! What exactly brings you to Bindon Clearing?"

>"We come from the south, and we would warn you of strange marauders and reavers in your land."
>"We wish to learn more of this land."
>"Do you know this woman? We found her in the waystation down the road, assaulted by the raiders."
>"Who is your ruler?"
>Write-in.

>>1703776
>Do you know this woman? and do you know about green peopel calling themselves south eagle or something

>>1703776
>"Do you know this woman? We found her in the waystation down the road, assaulted by the raiders."

>>1703776
>"Do you know this woman? We found her in the waystation down the road, assaulted by the raiders."

>>1703776
>>"Do you know this woman? We found her in the waystation down the road, assaulted by the raiders."

>>1703776
>"Do you know this woman? We found her in the waystation down the road, assaulted by the raiders."

>>1703786
>>1703813
>>1703862
>>1704179
>>1705386

>"Do you know this woman? We found her in the waystation down the road, assaulted by the raiders."

Writing.

>>1703776

Motioning to the peasant woman, who sits silently next to Kathrin, you ask the man, "Do you know this woman? We found her in the waystation down the road, assaulted by the raiders."

Looking her in the face, studying her features, Sean shakes his head, saying, "I'm afraid not, sorry. Maybe you could find out more in Ardon Glen? There's sure to be someone who knows her there."

You nod in thanks, and sit there somberly. "Have these raiders been a problem for a long time, Sean?"

The Alderman affirms this. "Been on about half a year, raiding and pillaging."

Slamming his fist on the table, he makes a sweeping motion with his hand. "And if that weren't enough, they're targeting the game in the woods, trying to starve us." Sean grimaces, voice getting low. "And if that weren't bad enough, the Kingsmen are enforcing the King's obscene taxes."

"We're more like to die from the King's tyranny, than the raiders, although neither are making our lives exactly easy."

This is... troubling.

Sebastian clears his throat, and looks at the rest of you, with an inscrutable look. "So, Sean, who exactly is your King, and as your liege, why does he not drive out the raiders?"

Growing still, Sean looks at Sebastian, and starts to whisper.

"If I'm telling you about the King, then you'd best keep your voices down. There are ears everywhere."

Nodding, you and the other Knight-Captains (and Kathrin,) assuage his fears.

Spitting on the dirt floor behind him, Sean Alderman begins his tale.

"It all began when the King's son, Morgan, was injured in a hunt. Everything went to shit after that. After weeks of being cooped up in Tir Duchais, while ignoring the raiders and... other sorts that have been coming into South Laaegonel, the Kingsmen suddenly start enforcing a ridiculous set of laws, and have been bleeding us dry, taking the majority of our food, leaving us with nothing." The man wrinkles his nose in disgust. "The only town able to do anything about the Kingsmen is Ardon Glen, and that's only because the town belongs to Benneit MacShìm, the Lord Mayor, and not the King."

"And if THAT weren't enough tribulations from on high, there's been fighting near Fredens Dal. No one can get to the village, let alone leave the valley, what with the Empire stationing troops until we all 'sort our own bloody mess out', in their words."

He looks up at you, with a wry grin.

"So we're pretty much fucked, no?"

>"You said something about... other sorts?"
>"My army, we destroyed the Imperium's troops on the way in. You can go south now."
>"Tell me more about your king."
>"Tell me more about the fighting near Fredens Dal."
>"Do you have a map anywhere?"
>Write-in.

>>1706216
>>"My army, we destroyed the Imperium's troops on the way in. You can go south now."
>"You said something about... other sorts?"
>"Do you have a map anywhere?"

>>1706216
>"My army, we destroyed the Imperium's troops on the way in. You can go south now."
>"You said something about... other sorts?"
>"Do you have a map anywhere?"

>>1706223
Supporting

>>1706223
>>1706305
>>1706310

>"My army, we destroyed the Imperium's troops on the way in. You can go south now."
>"You said something about... other sorts?"
>"Do you have a map anywhere?"

Writing.

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>>1706216

Struggling to say something to console the man, you eventually come up with, "My army, we destroyed the Imperium's troops on the way in. You can go south now."

Sean perks up at this. "Really? Well, it's good that you showed it to them tinheads, but we've not the food to leave. We've barely got enough to survive as it is, an expedition would destroy us."

He shrugs. "Although, it's good to know that we have a way out, should we get too desperate."

"Well, what about... You said something about... other sorts?" You ask him this, hoping to learn more about the situation in the valley.

Spitting again, Sean's face grows dark.

"Bah! There's dirtskins bunked up north, riling up the cave-folk, and they're using our homeland for their war. And if that weren't enough, the raiders... uhh, I think they're... South... Eagle? Well, the raiders seem to have a problem with the King, and they're takin' it out on us.

"It's a fell time when your home falls into chaos, no?"

You can do naught but nod, but something caught your attention.

"Dirtskins? Cave folk?" This sounds... interesting, to say the least.

He waves you off, as if clearing up confusion. "Ah, sorry, Ruk sellswords, and Dwarven miners." That didn't entirely answer your question, but it'll have to do.

Continuing your questions, you ask, "Do you have a map anywhere?"

Sean nods, rising to his feet. "I'm sure it's around here somewh-" He is interrupted by the door slamming open, and five burly-looking men in chainmail stride in, each with nasty looks on their faces.

"Oi. You the newcomers?" He motions at you, somehow managing to look bored, and full of malice.

Sean, however, is not about to have any of that. "Lucius fucking Hornhill. I thought I told you the last time, that if you barged in me home, I'd turn you into one of them southern Eunuchs."

Lucius cracks his kneck, and spits on the ground in front of him. "That you did. However, you aren't about to spill blood wit guests under your roof, now are ya?"

The Alderman growls, but says nothing, clenching his fists.

Looking to you, Lucius smirks, and steps closer, sitting down at the table, while the other four block the doorway.

>"Yes. Who might you be, Lucius?"
>"I don't think I quite like you. Something to do with your gentlemanly disposition."
>(To Sean) "If it's some sort of hospitality law, I can suffer a little bit of blood, if it gets this cocky shit out of my face."
>Write-in.

>>1706404
>>(To Sean) "If it's some sort of hospitality law, I can suffer a little bit of blood, if it gets this cocky shit out of my face."

>>1706404
>(To Sean) "If it's some sort of hospitality law, I can suffer a little bit of blood, if it gets this cocky shit out of my face."
>"Might we continue this outside?"

>>1706404
>>"Yes. Who might you be, Lucius?"

>>1706404
>"Yes. Who might you be, Lucius?"

>>1706404
>>"Yes. Who might you be, Lucius?"

>>1706417
>>1706420
>>1706477
>"Yes. Who might you be, Lucius?"

Writing.

>>1706404

You look apologetically at Sean, and then turn your attention to the man before you.

"Yes. Who might you be, Lucius?"

The coarse man laughs, slapping his knee.

"Why, look at that, Sean, we've got us some right gentlemen here!"

Leaning forward, steepling his fingers, he grins, purposefully ignoring Sean gritting his teeth and making an incomprehensible noise.

"Well, gentlemen, I've come to inform you who is the master of this valley. I just so happen to be the Captain of the garrison of this here village."

His grin getting an edge to it, he leans in close, and starts talking in a threatening tone.

"And I don't appreciate you all going to this man before me. If you didn't have that army of yours behind you, I'd teach you a thing or two about respect."

Leaning back, the smug smile returns. "But that's beside the point! I have a message, from Tir Duchais."

Standing up, he delivers the next few words with precision and formality. "Do not interfere in the King's matters. He is the rightful lord, and if you do not respect this..."

He grins, ferally. "Well, he'll have to come down on your heads with a host, won't he?"

The other Knight-Captains are silent, and you all share a look. As the highest-ranking noble out of all of them, they look to you for a reply.

>"I make no promises. I don't quite like what I've heard of your King, and he sounds like a tyrant of the worst sort."
>"My answer to you is, quite simply, piss off. Goodbye."
>"Shall we show these men the door, Sean?" (Initiate brawl.)
>Write-in.

>>1706524
>>"My answer to you is, quite simply, piss off. Goodbye."
>What we do here might have consequences for our gracious host.

>>1706524
"Oh ja, Maus fotze? Shieße freseen und sterben!"

Then proceed to kick his faggot ass.

>>1706534
....I support this

>>1706524
>"Shall we show these men the door, Sean?" (Initiate brawl.)

>>1706534
This. This is good

>>1706534
>>1706538
>>1706540
>>1706545

>KICK HIS MONKEY ASS

Writing.

>>1706524

You only deign to respond to his insult by standing up, and cracking your knuckles, sharing a long look with your comrades, who stand up as well. The Kingsmen give you a wary look, but they laugh it off, never believing you would be so audacious.

"Oh ja, Maus fotze? Shieße freseen und sterben!"

And then you throw yourself over the table, tackling him to the floor, and your comrades spring into action, rushing the men at the door, while Sean stands by, looking for an opening to help you.

Roll to see how badly you kick their asses.

>1d20, Best of Three.

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>1706589

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>>1706589
Fucking heathen cunts rn

Rolled 8 (1d20)

>>1706589
fuck him up

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>1706589
Ah shit nigger, let's crack some skulls.

>>1706596

>14

Writing.

>>1706589

Driving your fist into the man's face, you slam him against the ground, knocking his head into the dirt. Receiving an elbow to the jaw for your trouble, you grunt as you're kicked off, Lucius somehow getting his foot between you.

Landing on your back, you put your arms in front of your face, taking the battering Lucius gives you briefly, but Sean has him off you at a moment's notice, punching him in the face, over and over, breaking his nose, and getting his fist, and Lucius' head, bloody.

Finally managing to block a punch, Lucius headbutts Sean, while you stand, and shake your head, clearing your brief disorientation.

Approaching the Kingsman, you grab him roughly, and pulling him by the shoulders, slam him down on the ground again, kicking him in the ribs, taking a sort of grim satisfaction as he sucks for air, and enjoying the stupid look on his face.

Driving your foot into his wrist, you glimpse over to your friends, and are relieved. They've handled the rest of the Kingsmen easily, and tossed them out in the street.Looking back down at the pigheaded guardsman, you twist your boot, causing him some pain, but nothing too serious.

Crouching down, you get close to Lucius' face, and Sean steps on his other arm, making sure he can't try anything. His feet flailing around in the dirt as he struggled against you, Lucius sucks wind, hissing out what you presume is some sort of curse.

>"I don't acknowledge tyrants who bleed their people dry. Now leave, before I decide to let Sean at your face again."
>"If I hear about anything happening to Sean, and you're connected? You would wish you were dead. Understand?"
>(Spit on his face, and pull him to his feet.) "Leave."
>Write-in.

>>1706679
>"I don't acknowledge tyrants who bleed their people dry. Now leave, before I decide to let Sean at your face again."

>have him shot via a volley of arrows

>>1706679
>"If I hear about anything happening to Sean, and you're connected? You would wish you were dead. Understand?"

>>1706679
>"If I hear about anything happening to Sean, and you're connected? You would wish you were dead. Understand?"

>>1706710
>>1706762
>"If I hear about anything happening to Sean, and you're connected? You would wish you were dead. Understand?"

Writing.

>>1706589
You know Victor is mad when he starts screaming in German.

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>>1706679

"If I hear about anything happening to Sean, and you're connected? You would wish you were dead. Understand?"

Lucius can do naught but nod, and you pull him to his feet, manhandling him to the door.

Throwing him out in the street, you shut the door behind you, and sigh.

Looking at Sean, running your hand through your hair, you sigh.

"I think I speak for us all, when I say I am profoundly sorry that our presence brought them here, and causing you this trouble."

Sean, to his credit, simply waves it off.

"It's fine. That would've happened sooner or later, and I might have been alone, then. So you might have actually protected me. Now, let's get you that map."

Sitting back down, you all wait patiently, as the Alderman goes into a back room, and comes out, clutching a scroll.

Sitting down, opposite you, he unrolls the map, and smooths it, making sure it doesn't curl back up.

"Just point at a place, and I'll tell you of it, if you wish."

(Pick 3.)

>Tir Duchais
>Highrock
>Ardon Glen
>Bindon Clearing
>Fredens Dal
>Dindon
>Eaukav
>Noravh Votar
>Mornaur

>>1706868
>>Mornaur
>Ardon Glen
>Eaukav

>>1706868
>Noravh Votar
>Mornaur
>Fredens Dal

>>1706868
>Mornaur
Interesting to see an outsider's perspective on what's up over there.
>Narvh Votar
>Highrock

>>1706868
>Ardon Glen
For peasant woman
>Tir Duchais
Because king
>Mornaur
Because Cellica

>>1706877
>>1706879
>>1706900
>>1706916

>Mornaur, Noravh Votar, and Ardon Glen
Writing.

>>1706868

You think you might as well get their opinion of the south, first, so you point to Mornaur, both the woods, and the place you know the city is, even though it's unmarked on this map.

"What about this forest, Mornaur? Tell me of it, will you?"

Sean smiles, and nods.

"Gladly! Well, we don't travel south too often, but when we need to do some trading that way, the caravans swing by a small village, just inside the forest. They're good people. Of course, it's a forest, so..." He gets quiet, adding a spooky effect to his voice, "some say that there are fey in those woods, so be careful to not get lost, otherwise, you'll get tricked by a Will o Wisp!"

Chuckling, you don't mention the elves for now. Apparently, they're a well-kept secret, or at least, their city is.

Eyes drifting across the map, you go to the upper left corner, and point at the dot just outside the valley pass.

"What of Noravh Votar? It's isolated from everything else in South Laaegonel."

Sean's face sours, and he looks profoundly uncomfortable.

"It's... we don't like to talk of them, but... they're outcasts from both North and South Laaegonel. The home of the Traitor House, MacSwain. We haven't been able to root them out, however, for some reason or another." He spits. "If you ask me, we should march upon the place and give them a good drubbing, and be done with it."

Interesting. The next place your eye is drawn to is... Ardon Glen. You're probably going to make your way there at some point or another, so it couldn't hurt to have information on the place beforehand.

"What about Ardon Glenn? What can you tell me of the so-called 'town of traitors'?"

Laughing, Sean bangs his hand on the table. "Town of traders, more like! They're set on the road from Eaukav to the north! It's where all the merchants are, and the Lord Mayor has refused to give in to the demands of the King, so it's been under siege for about a month now,"

Interesting...

You look at your fellow Knight-Captians, and say, "Well? Where should we head to? There's fighting up to the north, 'Dwarves' to the east, a Tyrant king to the west, and raiders everywhere else."

It takes a while, but eventually, you decide on...

>Go up to Ardon Glenn, and then decide from there where to go.
>Head to Eaukav, to see these 'cave folk', or, Dwarves, as they're known.
>Cut west through the mountain passes to Tir Duchais, to sort out this "mad King" business.

>>1707076
>Go up to Ardon Glenn, and then decide from there where to go.
Check out what's up. Siege won't last forever, although they do last a while.

>>1707076
>Go up to Ardon Glenn, and then decide from there where to go.
Seems like they'd be a valuable ally if we helped them.

>>1707095
Ardon Glenn
BREAK THE SIEGE DEUS VULT!!!1

>>1707095
>>1707099
>>1707148

>Go up to Ardon Glenn, and then decide from there where to go.

Writing.

>>1707076

"I feel that it would be best to go to Ardon Glenn, and then make a decision from there," Sigmund says, "we don't know much, and we've already imposed upon the Alderman's hospitality enough."

Shaking his head, Guies clenches his fist, and slams it on the table. "As soldiers of Christ, is it not our duty to prevent the tyrants of the world from performing more evil?"

Speaking softly, Sebastian pats his shoulder. "We can do that by setting the country to order first, Guies, and then dealing with him."

Gritting his teeth, Guies stares down at the table. "I guess you're right."

Nodding, you stand up, shaking Sean's hand. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, even though it got a bit... bumpy, around the middle there."

Laughing, the Alderman just shakes his head. "It's fine, it's fine. Lucius is just an arsehole."

Aedilhun, with a concerned look on his face, asks, "Should we leave a few men here to keep the villagers safe? We can spare a few, I believe..."

Now that's a good question. Should you?

>"Yes, I'll leave ten men behind as a guard for the village."
>"No, we need every man. Sorry, Sean."
>Write-in.

>>1707232
>leave ten a missionary
spread the love of jesus guys

>>1707232
>"Yes, I'll leave ten men behind as a guard for the village."
It's an investment. A friendly forward base will do much more for us in the longer term than ten less men will lose for us in the short term.

>>1707232
>"Yes, I'll leave ten men behind as a guard for the village."

>>1707234
Supporting

>>1707234
this

>>1707234
>>1707236
>>1707237
>>1707238
>>1707247

>"Yes, I'll leave ten men behind as a guard for the village."

Writing.

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>>1707232

You smile, and shrug. "It can't hurt, and besides," you gesture to the village, unseen through the walls, around you, "We can spread the WORD to them."

All nodding, you part ways with Sean Alderman, and at his front door, tell him, "I'll be sending ten knights and a monk your way, alright? It should be enough to keep the Kings' men from doing too much harm, and it will serve as another line of defense, should the raiders turn their eye upon you."

Clapping you on the shoulder, he looks you deep in the eyes, and says, "Thank you. You're the first good news I've had to tell my people. Bless you."

Waving as you leave, you approach the army, which waits, restless, at the top of a nearby hill.

You do believe that you have done some good today.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a brief bit of organization, you sent the knights and monk off with a hurrah, and began travelling northward, following Sean's map to the trading town. It's peaceful enough, having not seen any raiders or Kingsmen so far, but you get the oddest feeling...

You are riding in the vanguard, after all, and you have the world before you, of course you feel like you're being watched. Anyone could be in the hills, watching your column advance northward.

However, you feel that isn't quite right, and something tugs at your gaze, as you look around you.

>Roll 1d20, BO3.

Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>1707318
HERE WE GO!!!

Rolled 2 (1d20)

>>1707318

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>1707318

>>1707342
that's enough for a perception check... right?

>>1707342
>17

Writing.

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>>1707318

Your attention is brought to a red shock of hair, at first, and then you examine the rest of the figure, lying on its back in the grass.

"Why hello there! I seem to have lost control over my arms and legs, might you help me?"

Calling the column to a halt, you look down, examining the figure in detail, and once you're done with that, examining it again.

It's... a tiny, muscular man, bleeding profusely from wounds in his shoulders and thighs. It looks like he was wearing armor, once, but it was torn to shreds.

What would a dwarf be doing out in dangerous territory, alone? You know from the tales, japes, and mummer plays that dwarves are usually cunning, charismatic, and wily, to compensate for their physical deficiency, but this one looks to be as fit as any man, if infirm.

Getting off your horse, you kneel down next to him, and ignore the curious looks your men are giving him.

You call out, "Bring me a healer!" and a monk rushes forward, eager to please.

"Y-yes, Milord?"

"Do what you can for him, at least enough to get him well enough to ride."

"Yes, Milord."

As the monk fusses over the oddly muscular dwarf, you kneel beside him, and he beams at you.

"A thousand thanks, sir! It's refreshing to meet one with good manners out here."

>"Why are you wounded, sir?"
>"My name is Victor Reis, I'm a Knight-Captain of the Teuton order. Who might you be?"
>(Wait in silence.)
>Write-in.

Okay, this is gonna be my last update for the night because I was hit with a sudden wave of exhaustion, more to come tomorrow, same general time, evening EST.

>>1707419

>"Why are you wounded, sir?"

>>1707419
>"Why are you wounded, sir?"
If there's no danger, then
>"My name is Victor Reis, I'm a Knight-Captain of the Teuton order. Who might you be?"

Thanks for running.

>>1707419
>"Why are you wounded, sir?"

I am a sad.

You can't call yourself a good guy and do bad guy things. Cellica is right, we're a piece of godless shit.

>>1708016
There was no good thing to do there. As is often the case in war. Would've been easier on both parties if they hadn't broken and surrendered.

>>1707419

>"My name is Victor Reis, I'm a Knight-Captain of the Teuton order. Who might you be?"
Tell him our name so he doesn't think we are one of the king's men. Besides it's just polite to introduce yourself.Then ask.

>"Why are you wounded, sir?"

>>1708016
Would you rather to leave then and our man to starve? Besides it was better to kill then then slowly make then and us die from hunger.

>>1708211
We could have liberated them. We could have fallen back to the camp and leave them there. We could have make them make oaths to not take arms again.

Cellica is right. This was fucking mental. There were many ways that didn´t rely on killing them or starving.

All that "reality of war" thing is just an excuse. We butchered one hundred prisoners, after having the nerve to call shit on someone who did exactly the same.

When Cellica gets to her village and makes us lose his father´s good graces, let´s see if killing all those prisoners was "the most rational thing to do". We are a fucking human and a representative of Christ, for God´s sake. Not a fucking machine.

>>1707424
>>1707434
>>1707452
>>1708206
>"My name is Victor Reis, I'm a Knight-Captain of the Teuton order. Who might you be?"
>"Why are you wounded, sir?"

Writing.

>>1707419

Nodding, you simply accept his thanks without issue.

"My name is Victor Reis, I'm a Knight-Captain of the Teuton order. Who might you be?"

Wincing as the monk cleans a wound, the dwarf smiles, beaming through the pain.

"I am Duran Smith, of Clan Junta, at your- ah! service."

Nodding, taking this information in stride, you ask another question.

"Why are you wounded, sir?"

"Oh, you know those raiders. I was off, tryin' to make it to Ardon Glen, when I stumbled upon two raiders. I led them on a merry chase through the woods, but they caught up with me. I'm not the best long-distance runner, after all." He winks at you. "Anyways, we got into a fight, and although I left them with something to think about, they wounded me, felling me a few miles north of here, and I have been crawling south, hoping to make it to Bindon."

Your eyes widen. He... was crawling a long distance... with wounds like those?

>"That's... amazing. How did you not get caught, or fall unconscious?"
>"Are the raiders anywhere nearby?"
>"You seem like just the type of man I could use in my army. If only all my men were inexhaustibly unstoppable like you."
>Write-in.

>>1709901
>>"Are the raiders anywhere nearby?"
I doubt he'd join right now, Lets wait 'til he gets a good impression of us.

>>1709901
>"That's... amazing. How did you not get caught, or fall unconscious?"
>"Are the raiders anywhere nearby?"

Ah old time dwarfs, stupidly resistent not like those stupid ones from LOR.

>>1709106
But Victor didn't murder innocents like the Templars did to the heathen slaves, so I don't think you can really paint them with the same brush. The only other realistic option in this situation would have been to strip them of everything and send them on their way, which could have led to all sorts of problems down the track. Problems that Victor can't afford.

History is littered with these sort of things. Henry V butchered the French prisoners at Agincourt when his position could have been overrun. Richard the Lionheart massacred over 2000 prisoners when Saladin deliberately drew out negotiations, which prevented him from moving onto his next objective (marching on Jaffa).

Victor didn't make the decision out of malice, or blind zealotry. He made it logically.

>>1709945
Don't forget Cesar in the Gallic wars, starving a entire city and leaving women and children die of hunger as their on compatriots pushed then out of town.

>>1709901
>"That's... amazing. How did you not get caught, or fall unconscious?"

>>1709907
>>1709927
>>1709971
>"That's... amazing. How did you not get caught, or fall unconscious?"
>"Are the raiders anywhere nearby?"

Writing.

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>>1709901
Whistling in wonderment, you shake your head.

"That's... amazing. How did you not get caught, or fall unconscious?"

Duran winks, and laughs. "Just me normal hardy constitution and me wits, I guess. The South Eagle, if you haven't guessed, is not formed up of masters of woodcraft."

Just taking it all in, you nod. A normal man would've given as soon as he was dropped, but this man... wow.

"Are the raiders anywhere nearby?"

You need to know, if you're going to help clean up this country, and you can't have any green-skinned menaces running around, terrorizing farmers.

He shakes his head.

"Nah, even if they weren't running off to lick their wounds, they wouldn't stick around. Too much risk in being wounded and alone, well, at least for them."

He smiles. "I was hoping to find some farmer, but you're MUCH better."

"Pardon, but might I inquire as to where yer heading after this? I'd like to get back home to Eaukav, but I'm in no rush, you've got business elsewhere."

>"We're headed to Ardon Glen, next, and we're going to decide what to do there."
>"You live in Eaukav? What's it like?"
>"Your surname is Smith? You're a worker of metal?"
>Write-in.

>>1710068
>>"We're headed to Ardon Glen, next, and we're going to decide what to do there."
>"Your surname is Smith? You're a worker of metal?"

>>1710068
>"We're headed to Ardon Glen, next, and we're going to decide what to do there."
>"You live in Eaukav? What's it like?"

>>1710068
>"We're headed to Ardon Glen, next, and we're going to decide what to do there."
>"Your surname is Smith? You're a worker of metal?"

>>1710068
>"We're headed to Ardon Glen, next, and we're going to decide what to do there."
>"Your surname is Smith? You're a worker of metal?"

>>1710076
>>1710084
>>1710121
>>1710122
>"We're headed to Ardon Glen, next, and we're going to decide what to do there."
>"Your surname is Smith? You're a worker of metal?"

Writing.

>>1710068

Nodding, you say, "We're headed to Ardon Glen, next, and we're going to decide what to do there."

You see no reason to conceal your purpose from him. He doesn't seem to be malevolent, but besides that, he's been extremely friendly, and you have no evidence that it's not natural.

Stroking his beard with his (now bandaged) hand, Duran says, "Very well, seems sensible. It's on the way, anyways, I suppose."

Kneeling next to him quietly as the monk works on his other arm, you break the silence, and ask, "Your surname is Smith? You're a worker of metal?"

The dwarf nods enthusiastically. "Aye! I work in steel and gold, I'm a ranking craftsman, I've earned that right."

You tilt your head at this.

"Ranking? Your clans are like guilds?"

He makes a wobbly motion with his hand, holding it flat, and says, "Sort of. Not exactly like a guild, but more regimented than other clans."

The monk starts working on his legs, and Duran winces.

"So, Ser Knight, why is your army doing in South Laaegonel? Not that I'm complaining. If you set the place to rights, that'll be that many less clan meetings about the 'damn highland folk stirring things up again."

>"Well, we're... fighting the Imperium."
>"We're spreading the word of our LORD, YHVH, and protecting the innocent."
>"Honestly? We're playing it by ear, but the Imperium are a definite enemy of ours."
>Write-in.

>>1710260
>"Honestly? We're playing it by ear, but the Imperium are a definite enemy of ours."
This seems the most honest.

>>1710260
>"Honestly? We're playing it by ear, but the Imperium are a definite enemy of ours."

>>1710260

>"Honestly? We're playing it by ear, but the Imperium are a definite enemy of ours."
And

>"We're spreading the word of our LORD, YHVH."

>>1710260
>"We're spreading the word of our LORD, YHVH, and protecting the innocent."
>"Honestly? We're playing it by ear, but the Imperium are a definite enemy of ours."

>>1710267
WE'RE SPREADING THE WORD OF OUR LORD!!! and protecting the innocent.
>"Honestly? We're playing it by ear, but the Imperium are a definite enemy of ours."

>>1710260
>>"Honestly? We're playing it by ear, but the Imperium are a definite enemy of ours."
>"We're spreading the word of our LORD, YHVH, and protecting the innocent."

>>1710319
>>1710314
>>1710299
>>1710294
>>1710286
>>1710267
>"Honestly? We're playing it by ear, but the Imperium are a definite enemy of ours."
>"We're spreading the word of our LORD, YHVH, and protecting the innocent."

Writing.

>>1710341
Sorry, forgot my trip.

>>1710314
DEUS VULT!!

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>>1710347

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>>1710355

>>1710346
It's okay.

>>1710355
>>1710346
I forgot my pic so you can be forgiven for dropping your trip.

>>1710260

Now it's your turn to chuckle.

"Honestly? We're playing it by ear, but the Imperium are a definite enemy of ours."

This gives Duran pause. "Wait... the Empire? You're an enemy of theirs?"

You cock a brow.

"Yes, why?"

The dwarf looks at you seriously.

"The Empire... They're bad news. Be glad you haven't gotten their attention, yet."

This gets your attention. "What? What do you mean?"

He shakes his head. "I've been to Novus Roma, once, during the transition between Emperors. Seen the Legions, at their full strength. Believe me, you don't want them to come down on your head, at least, not as long as you're an unlanded army."

Well that's... unnerving.

Moving on. "Other than that, we're spreading the word of our LORD, YHVH, and protecting the innocent."

Duran smiles once more. "Ahh, holy men, eh? A noble goal! I look forward to seeing you in action!"

Smiling, you help him up, as the monk finishes working on his legs.

"I'll get you a horse, and then we'll be off!" you say.

The dwarf nods, grinning. "That's a plan, then!"

----------------------------------------------

Roll 1d20, Best of 3

Trust me.

Rolled 7 (1d20)

>>1710455

Rolled 2 (1d20)

>>1710455
No, trust ME ath

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>1710455
Looks like I'll have to save the day with my rolls. Again.

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>1710455
Glorius Domine

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>1710462
>>1710468
>>1710478


>>1710483
Well fuck, anon.

>>1710462
>>1710468
>>1710478
>>1710483
I regret everything.

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>>1710487
Very well.

>>1710478
>>1710468
>>1710462
You are all lacking on the true faith. Get on your knees and ask forgiveness for our lord. Because i will give all of you none!

>>1710487
It happens if everything was easy it wouldn't be fun.

>>1710455

>as long as you're an unlanded army.

Yeah, about that. Let's get landed.

>>1710586
Guess it's a good thing we are going to
Ardon Glen then. Once we topple the tirant we can use the la ds to feed our man and protect this land.

>>1710586
Seriously though, I look forward to getting some kind of hilltop stronghold we can properly fortify. Get some peasants working the surrounding lands, smiths turning out weapons, all that good stuff.

>>1710615
What shall we name this beauty? Something in memory of our home, perhaps.

>>1710649
Dunno. But we are definetly building a church.But then we will need relics. Dam do you guys think there is holy relucs in this world?

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>>1710455
>7
>contested by
>15

You make some headway towards Ardon Glen, travelling quickly, for an army of ten-and-four hundred. However, somewhere along the way, where the road is surrounded by tall grass, you get a funny feeling, but you're too late.

Rising from the grass, is a... group of particular-looking warriors. Dressed in black, and ragged-looking, you have almost no warning, before they launch themselves at your column, jagged axes and swords swinging wildly.

They manage to take out two knight's horses, dragging the riders to the ground, stabbing and slashing, The two men are dead before you made a move.

Kicking Gunnar forward, you explode into action, drawing your sword, and yelling, partly to urge your men to follow, but partly out of anger.

Mostly out of anger.

Swinging your sword down at the first warrior you encounter, you cut him in the neck, but instead of clutching the wound, or even crying in pain, he laughs, madly. You barely have enough time to block his immediate counterattack, kicking his axehead so that it completely misses both you and Gunnar.

What... what is this man?

Behind you, and all around you, knights quickly approach the men, battering them down, fueled by rage, and vengeance for their brethren.

>Roll 1d20+5, Bo3

Rolled 8 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>1710687

Rolled 6 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>1710687

Rolled 14 + 5 (1d20 + 5)

>>1710687

>>1710703
>19

Good shit, anon.

Writing.

Dam i'm always late for rolling. Oh well it wasn't god will.

Also wtf are saxons doing at my fantasy setting.
On another note guess these are the northen man Smith told us.

>>1710678
>tfw we become paladins, meting out justice on evildoers

>>1710778
We will create a new holy land and have all man, live under our lords light!

Also once again killing those men was the right thing we stopped from any kind of intel to reach the Imperium.

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>>1710687

Swinging down with righteous fury, the blows of you and your brethren cut the strange warriors, which cause them to slow, even if they don't fall.

Lashing out like stuck boars, the soldiers try and do as much damage to you as possible, charging towards you, as if motivated by spite, yet coherent enough to identify you as the leader, but your men intervene, cutting them down before they can reach you.

They fall like puppets with cut strings, slamming hard into the packed dirt of the road.

Dispatching your opponent, you leap down from your horse, and make sure to sever the head, hacking at the man's thick, muscled neck, cutting it in two clean blows. Your men, following your example, do the same, making sure to take off the heads.

There was something fell at work, there. You don't know what, but... you shudder. In all the old legends, severing the head usually did it for the monsters.

Wiping your blade clean, you bark orders to your men, as you get back on your horse. A few minutes later, and the attacker's bodies are dragged to the side of the road and lit on fire, while the fallen knights are put in an empty wagon, driven by monks.

The horses, you have to put down, and then leave to the crows. It pains you to do so, but the horses are beyond help. Moving on, you ride forth, and the army advances once more.

========================================

While you ride, the other Knight-Captains come to the van, to discuss what happened with you. Giving them the details, you explain everything, even the precautions you took. They look troubled by this, and Veit starts muttering about geists and ghouls.

Not even Duran knows exactly what is going on, saying he never saw their like before in the valley before.

This is... quite vexing.

It isn't before long, in the distance, you see, surrounded by tents, siege engines, and men, a walled town. Smoke and carrion both hang above the town, and there is currently a small skirmish taking place on the south walls, between the defenders, and some opportunists with ladders, who most likely hope to gain the gatehouse on that side of the walls.

"This," Duran says, grimly, "Is Ardon Glen, my friend, and those are the fool King's troops, who happen to have it under siege."

Calling the other Knight-Captains, you quickly settle in for a strategy meeting on your horses, there on that hill, looking down into the valley.

To the south, are several hundred men, mostly loose, and out of formation, but with many ladders, and even a ram, from the shape of it. To the east and west are siege towers, guarded by fewer men, in tighter formation. And to the north is... something, a mix of the two. You note the lack of trebuchets or magonels. The King wants to take this place intact.

>(Attack now, while you still have the element of surprise.)
>(Attack while they mount an assault, crush them between you and the wall.)
>(Just wait. Leave them guessing.)
>

>>1710909
>(Attack while they mount an assault, crush them between you and the wall.)

>>1710909
>>(Attack while they mount an assault, crush them between you and the wall.)

>>1710909
>(Attack now, while you still have the element of surprise.)

Qttack the siege weapons with our infantry and archers Then let then there to stop any enemy comming from the wall toward us we should keep some riders on guard in case the other line tries to advance and so the awaiting knightas can flank and break their formation.

>>1710909
>(Attack while they mount an assault, crush them between you and the wall.)

>>1710919
>>1710939
>>1710978
>(Attack while they mount an assault, crush them between you and the wall.)

Writing.

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>>1710909

Settling on waiting until you have an opening, you set up the army in a line along the ridge, looking down on the army assaulting the town.

Soon, you will fall upon them, like the hammer of God.

Soon, you will enact justice upon the tyrant's men.

Soon.

--------------------------------------------

And that's it for this thread! Thanks for playing!

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AthinarOfJeno

Discord: https://discord.gg/un6aawU

>>1711069
Can't wait for the next thread. Thanks for the run boss.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=7U9lVjZg-Kg

>>1711069
Charge!

Thanks for running.

>>1711069
WHEN THE WINGED HUSSARS ARRIVED!!!

>>1711069
Great run OP

Also, did we try to convert the faux-Romans before killing them?

>>1729797
>spoiler

No we didn't.