Sundered Souls

The sun had risen, but hidden behind a great, grey wall of cloud cover. The rain poured down, as it had for months. It was that season in Luan. Veres trudged through the dark mud, carefully not to lose his new leather boots in the muck. Tall for a Man of the Empire. Veres stood roughly six foot and six inches. The Imperial talbard covering his chainmail, which hung nearly down to his knees. His head was uncovered, revealing his short black hair, another rarity among the Imperial's of Caladan. He kept his fierce green eyes on the ground, watching his footing. While he held onto the hilt of his short sword tightly as he moved. The entrance to the Imperial camp appeared before him, and Veres entered in.

Inside the camp, it could be taken for as abandoned. Not a soul moved among the scattered tents and structures. Not a surprise to Veres, as he chanced a look into the sky.

"Haral-Cursed rain...does it never end in this country?" he wondered, moving now to his own quarters. Outside, Veres pulled back the flap to his tent and stepped inside. Shaking the damp, and chill from his body, Veres undid his sword belt and lay it across a tall wooden stool by flap. Removing his boots next, he stacked them on a crate he had built and then moved to his bunk at the rear of the tent. He had just laid down and closed his eyes, composed for some rest, when he heard what sounded like someone blowing on a wood flute. The sound began to grow steadily nearer, and Veres' eyes shot open just before he jumped from his bunk. The next thing he heard was the explosion, as a round landed somewhere. The camp was suddenly alive, as Men began to shout and move about. Veres quickly wrapped his belt around his waist and drew his boots back over his feet. As he rushed back out into the rain, a horn sounded, calling an Assembly. The 262nd Imperial Legion began to form up then. Thousands of Men and horses formed ranks, and Veres rushed to join them. Drawing his chainmail coif over his head, someone tossed him a helm which he placed over the chainmail. Finding his place in the ranks, Veres heard the drums at the center of the formation begin to beat steadily as the entire Legion began to move forward, as one, out onto the field.



Across the field, two figures stood, watching the battlefield from the trees. One sat, mounted upon a black horse, covered from head to toe in a long black cloak. His face shrouded in darkness, making his features invisible to the naked eye. The one next to him, was clearly Goblinoid. Dark, tan skin and bald headed. A flat face with slits for nostrils and light brown eyes. His height was the only distinguishing factor, marking him as nothing less then Orcish. Standing at five feet and eleven inches, he was an imposing figure. Covered in leather studded and various mix-match plate armor. The Orc grinned and glanced at his patron.



"The Imperial's fall into our grasp, my Lord...this shall be quick..." he said exposing razor sharp teeth as he grinned. The robed man said nothing, nor did he move at all. Even his mount seemed deathly still as the entire Imperial rank and file came into view. The Orc glanced back and forth from the field below to his current master, slightly confused. He had never dealt with one of this ilk before. He had heard the stories, sure. Luan had long held the reputation of its inhabitants, the Luanese. Some called them Necromancers, others the Undead, or Animator's. What ever they were, they had hired him to win this war with the Imperials. And the, seemingly, indifference of his patron put him on edge.



"Does something displease you, my Lord?" the Orc mercenary asked. The cowl of the robed man, shifted as it moved to look upon him. The Luanese' cold stare lasted only a moment, before it turned away again. The Orc shivered slightly as the hairs on his arms and at the back of his neck stood on end.



"Peace, General Ro'Ukan. We are very pleased..." the Luanese spoke in a hushed voice, just above a whisper. The Mercenary General turned his attention back to the battlefield then. The Imperials were swiftly approaching the line of siege engines his forces had placed, just inside the tree line. The trap had been sprung. The tall Orc turned then, facing down hill. With a great bellow he drew his sword and held it high. Around the hill, skirting the edge came Orcish light cavalry. They surged forward down towards the undefended siege line. From the East another cry went up and then from the south. Orcish infantry with their shorter cousins the Goblins broke from the cover of the woods in a mad dash towards the rear of the Imperial formations. A long line of Goblinoid archers marched up the crest of the hill. Moving around and in between the Orcish Mercenary General and the Robed man. Ro'Ukan lifted his right hand, and the archers notched their arrows to their bow strings, taking their range and lifting their bows appropriately. Ro'Ukan waited for the Legionaires to halt and form a defensive line. He watched as his forces approached, closing the distance. Then the Orc's hand fell and hundreds of black missiles filled the air, cutting through the foliage. Ro'Ukan smiled as the volley fell among the Imperial ranks, catching them unaware.



It was chaos in the ranks. Veres had almost missed the barrage of arrows as they came in, lifting his shield just in time. Many were not so fortunate. Once the volley had ended, Veres lowered his shield again to take in the measure of what was left of his Cohort. Hundreds had fallen, even the Centurion and the Imperial Legatus  had found their end. The line was smashed and the Orcs and Goblins were closing.



"REFORM!!!!" He began to shout, ripping the command whistle from around the Centurion's neck. Pressing the tip to his lips he blew hard and pulled it away again.



"REFORM!!!! REFORM!!!! SHIELDS UP!!! KEEP YOUR WITS BOYS!!!" he ordered and what was left of the Cohort moved to obey, trained to listen to the whistle bearer. The Imperial line narrowly closed in time to meet the Goblinoid infantry as they crashed into their shields. The Veterans of 262nd stood fast, taking the Orcish charge into their teeth and biting back with spear and sword.