Author Topic: Headless Badger Fluff Write up of my battle  (Read 530 times)

Offline Ansel

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Headless Badger Fluff Write up of my battle
« on: July 07, 2007, 04:06:14 AM »
The Headless Badger

   The Bogenhafen Irregulars of Helstrom’s 4th marched down the muddy track that was the road toward the Headless Badger Inn. Their expensive purple and white uniforms now mud streaked and sweat stained clung to their tired bodies in their seemingly unending march through the warm drizzle of rain. Today’s orders saw these men escorting a small Bretonnian force of allies from the Waldberg Fort in the south, through the Talabecland borders to the Inn that lay just to the West of Mattenguard.
   Anders Brechausen, Warrior Priest and spiritual leader of the band looked warily all around. There had been many and diverse reports that had been dispatched to Ortolf Von Brennenburg detailing troop movements in the area to the north and strange mysterious races and creatures thought to be myth. Only a day earlier the Bogenhafen Irregulars had been sent packing from the field of battle during a skirmish with undead forces from the south a day earlier. Brechausen would not fail his men a second time.
   As he looked, the Priest scanned the sky for Captain Elwin Koenig and to his disappointment did not find him. Koenig was the leader of this troop in name only and the men resented that Koenig’s father had purchased his captaincy with his big fat purse. Brechausen had even heard one of the men remark earlier that he wished Koenig would just stay lost. Not for the first time Brechausen wished the man would show some leadership and responsibility to these soldiers.
   Brechausen was interrupted from his musings as the cannon slipped once more into the ruts bogging down for the third time of the day. The Bretonnian contingent came around the bend behind catching them again. Somehow the foreign knights had kept their tabards clean and tidy, most likely from the rest stops they had taken when the cannon had been stuck earlier. As they rode up they ignored the men moving the cannon, who were obviously lowborn and crass in their speech toward the artillery piece.
   “I pray thee we are near our destination,” spoke Sir Guillarme, the Knight’s second in command. “I don’t know if my charger can handle another lunch break,” he said loudly enough for the men to hear. Brechausen gave him a severe look at returned to shouting orders.
   “Pull that cannon over there!” he pointed, “The land is rockier there and less likely to sink! Tie the rope on to it there. Come on, put your backs into it!” The Knights had taken their mounts in the same area where Brechausen had pointed and were just beginning to dismount when the cannon came loose with a great sucking sound. Brechausen moved his mount toward Sir Montaigne, the Bretonnian equivalent of General to discuss plans and orders.
   Montaigne was one of the few Bretonnians Brechausen actually could stomach. The man had a way about him that displayed nobility without having to act haughty like some of the others on this trek. He seemed to real the complexities of this search for the Nemesis Crown and all the implications of the entire world’s armies marching on the Empire. This was a man the Priest could discuss matters with; this was a man his soldiers respected. If only Koenig were around he might just learn something.
   “The inn is just a little farther,” Brechausen pointed up the road. “It should be just past the hills and this wood.” Sir Montaigne looked in the indicated direction with a thoughtful look on his face.
   “I’m sure your men could use a little ale with the hard march and all.” Montaigne smiled. “ I’m sure my men hold my same sentiment and could cover the first round of drinks.” He winked slyly.
   “Just as long as my men remain sober good Sir.” Brechausen retorted. “Sigmar requires stiff discipline and soberness for his fighting men to receive his protection.” The two began to chuckle quietly to themselves.
   A green flash in the distance interrupted their playful banter and the ground seemed to reel under their feet. The smell of ozone wafted through the clearing. The men didn’t need the return of the Talabecland woodsmen scouting ahead to know that a battle was taking place. A scout did in fact return quickly to report on the layout and other logistics to the generals. Both Priest and Knight began issuing orders in the deployment of their men.
« Last Edit: July 07, 2007, 04:16:39 AM by Ansel »
"The problem in my last battle was that my detachment was too detached!"