Gyrfalcon

Gyrfalcon swung into the saddle of a new horse, it's former rider one of the dead at their feet. Ahead, the Hand had split the Confederate forces, though their calvary charge had bogged down finally. They were now beginning to widen the gap, splitting the Confederate forces into two, more easily defeated pieces. Grasping a pike that had been dropped by a now-dead pikeman, Gyrfalcon hefted it critically. It was no lance, but holding it right there... yes, it would pass as a lance, as long as it needed to. "Battalion! Mount up and prepare for battle! Archers and seige engines, continue to fire on targets of opportunity!" A mage looked over at Gyrfalcon, face sagging in weariness "We're out of effective spells, Captain. We'll be withdrawing now." Gyrfalcon nodded, grinding his teeth slightly as he ordered archer's who had ran out of bowstrings or had broken their bows to form around the mages. Quickly, the group set off away from the battle, back to the camp and safety. Damn, there goes the mages... this is *not* getting any better Gyrfalcon though, frowning. "The Battalion will advance at a trot!" The entire mass started forward, maintaining their ranks as they formed into a wedge, lances, spears, halbards, pikes, anything long with a point were lowered and readied. They won't know what hit them... Gyrfalcon thought grimly, for the knights of hand had turned and were focing the two sides of the split further away from each other. 300 yards. "The battalion will advance at a canter!" Gyrfalcon called out, and they picked up speed. He noticed an enemy forc had finally realized that they were advancing, and move to flank them, seconds before falling prey to a band of shadows that rode demonic horses. Cioden's forces? I wonde why he is not with them... whatever the reason, we'll be that much more effective... 200 yards. Arrows whistled overhead to fall among Rekmor's forces, slaying fewer now of the heavily armored enemy. This time, however, the barrage did not go unanswered. Overhead, a thick beam of red energy lashed by, radiating a searing heat that could be felt 50' below it. Black masses that radiated an intense smell of decay lashed after the beam. Gyrfalcon turned in his saddle to see what happened, and wished he hadn't. The beam slashed across the line of archers, and everything with twenty feet of where it struck ceased to exist, igniting instantly from the massive temperatures. It left in its wake a black, smoking scar in the hillside. The black globs struck elsewhere among the ranked archers, and where the goo splashed, men died, aging, dying, and decaying so that only bare skeletons were left on the ground as the goo dissipitated, contorted in positions of intense agony. Gyrfalcon faced forward. 100 yards. "Battalion..... CHARGE!" Gyrfalcon shouted and swept the pike down, seating it as firmly as he can as he urged his horse to a gallop. All around him, his men did the same. On his left rode Karl, his naganata seated firmly. On his right, that young pikeman grimly crouched down in his saddle, long spear ready. This is going to hurt... Gyrfalcon thought to himself as he braced for the impact. It did. However, the Rekmor forces were caught by total surprise and were blasted back, leaving many dead knights and footmen in their wake. Gyrfalcon's unit managed to fill the breach and anchor both ends, but with the Hand's magical seige weapons ready, how long could this last? Gyrfalcon asked himself this as he stabbed his katana through a Rekmor footsoldier's helmet.

Yay! *applauds* While I'm an end of the day sort of shower taker, I love this poem... and a nice hot shower is *so* relaxing after a long day.

Falcon2001 posted, Gyrfalcon25 posted, Gyrfalcon sighed at the pikeman's earnest questions, and knew that everyone around them was listening carefully. "These Shadow Knights aid us because they were brought to our cause by a man named Cioden. He said that his lands were in the path of the Hand's advances, and that he didn't want his lands to fall into their grasp. General Alexander accepted the offer of their services. That is why they fight for us. This offer came hours before this battle, which is why the milita was not informed. That is why you did not know." Gyrfalcon drew in a long breath and let it out slowly. "If it were my decision, those... creatures... would not be here right now. But it was General Alexander's decision, and we will both have to hope that he is proved correct in his use of these creatures. However, until he decides that they are no longer useful, we must fight on with our… 'allies'." Gyrfalcon bent, picked up a long spear, and tossed it to the impertinent pikeman. "Here, use this and get into formation with my battalion. There is no time for you to rejoin your unit, so stand ready if they should break through." Gyrfalcon swallowed hard as he saw the mainline forces of the Hand race onto the field. The sun had appeared briefly, before being stolen once more, but the Gorogs were fleeing, leaving the lines readying for the advancing forces. However, behind them loomed the counterparts of his forces, siege weapons and archers, readying to rain death in return. "Do we have any spells or siege weapons that can reach their archers?" He called out, and a few mages raised their voices in confirmation, as well as the crew of the largest siege engine. "Fire!" Gyrfalcon called out, praying that the enemy would not be able to effectively return fire.

*Gyr applauds*

"Kill the rats and make sure to keep the mages protected!" Gyrfalcon roared, from the ground now. Beside him, his horse was merely a boiling pile of rats. Rats clawed at his bootleather, and several of the scouts who were thrown from their horses when the rats appeared from nowhere had not risen again. The rest of his battalion were frantically smashing the vermin with their boots, their horses stamping as well, so that it seemed the entire group was engaged in a frantic and single-minded dance. In a sense, they were. The mages had not been severly put out, their stoneskin enchantments keeping them from any immediant harm, and then their flameshields burning any vermin who strayed too close. Most rats simply avoided the mages and attacked the less fiery bowmen and scouts. Gyrfalcon whirled in a stamping, stomping dance, keeping the rats from swarming his legs, and caught only glimpses around him. Glimpse: archers using their bows as clubs to keep the rats at bay, stomping on any that get closer with their heavy boots, forming rings and holding their ground in the swarms. Glimpse: mages, unaffected by the plague with their fiery shields, forming and launching fireballs, force missiles, acid arrows, and lightning bolts into the massive battle ahead of them, and summoning monsters nearby to deal with the rats. Glimpse: in the battle, a strange fighter, obviously a member of the Hand, seeming to be in silent communication with a pikeman... seconds before slaying him easily. Like a snake, hypnotizing before striking... Gyrfalcon thought, his katana whirling low to clear a larger area around himself. Glimpse: one of his scouts, his face half gnawed away, lying on the ground, dying even as rats begin to feast at his belly... Glimpse: a catapult crew standing on their catapult, using anything long to knock away the rats who were trying to climb up, with a force of the 2nd Battalion slowly circling the catapult, smashing the creatures where they were. Glimpse: Karl, still mounted, bending low to heave a flask of napatha on the carcass of Gyrfalcon's horse, lighting it on fire and slaying the boiling rats. Gyrfalcon stopped, panting. The rats were all dead or dying, except for the ones fleeing the area, their controlling magic broken as their fear of the creatures around them exceeded the magic's ability to limit that fear. Rats were no doubt huddling under the seige weapons, but they would pose no problem for now. "Battalion, form up! Archers, form into your units and prepare to barrage fire! Catapult crews, get down off those things and start firing again!" Gyrfalcon called out, and his lieutenants and sargents repeated the orders up and down the ragged line. The battalion quickly reformed, and Gyrfalcon suppressed an ache of pain at the empty places in the companies. To either side, the archers formed more slowly, some restringing their bows, others, who had broken their bows smashing the rats, forming up in the rear. Finally, they were formed in their long lines as the first loads from the catapults went overhead towards the Gorog forces, who had been forcing the Confederate lines slowly inward, forming a bulge. "Archers, concentrate your fire on the rear areas of the Gorogs!" Gyrfalcon strung his bow, drew an arrow, and called out "Ready!" The shouts went up and down the line. He drew the arrow back, and aimed "Aim!" Muscles quivered as composite longbows were bent taut. "FIRE!" the unified snap of hundreds of bowstrings slapping against bracers flew across the line, and a killing swarm of arrows landed among the Gorogs, who now bore weapons that flamed until each creature's death, Gyrfalcon noted with dismay. The enemy spellcasters were powerful, but hopefully there were not many of them. Gyrfalcon called out "Arc your shots and fire for effect!" Again and again, the slaying swarms of arrows rained down on the bunched Gorogs who had not yet reached the fighting, joined now and then by barrages of magic from the battalion's mages and the flaming payloads of the catapults. The enemy was obviously using the Gorogs to wear down and tire out the Confederate forces, and weaken them with losses. Once the Confederate forces were sufficiently weakened, the shock troops, the calvary and archers and the darker fiends lurking behind them would move up and punch through, overrunning the Confederate lines. Not if we have any say in it... Gyrfalcon thought grimly, his next arrow taking a Gorog chieftain in the eye, slaying him.

*Gyr applauds as well*

*Gyr applauds the paired poems* *smile*

*Gyrfalcon bows formally to lumpenproletariat* May your journey away be short and your return be long, my friend. Continue to read often, and come back to us as soon as you can.

Arawn! Good to see you back again, after all this time... If its not too much prying, did you ever publish one of your fine works? *Gyr is willing to participate in the 12 Swords thing still, though nobody wanted him the first time. *

What is life, then? Is it mindless breathing? Automatic tasks, without thought? Breathing and eating and breeding? What is there, that makes this life And not nothing at all? There must be something, That makes it worth living. There is that subtle, wondrous Something, that makes life worth So much more then toiling Like an ant in the dirt. Experiences, sensations, thoughts dreams, and hopes, and fears terror, excitement, and emotions And everything that goes into life. These are why we continue to live, Everything a fresh sensation to thrill Or please or pain or mourn or frighten Sensations, a spice for life. Dreams to lift, and to stir hope, the last Of Pandora's Box, to give us life and meaning And a desire to better the world Fears, innocent terrors as we are younger, Known terrors as we're older, the ghosts jumping Out of the closets of our lives, giving us a shock. The excitement of a roller coaster, the terror of something Jumping out of the closet, before the light Is switched on and its only a coat, The thrill of doing something 'they' all said You could never do, not in a million Years but you proved them Wrong, wrong, wrong. Pleasure and pain, two sides of a coin Flip and let it fall, see what comes up this time Happiness? Sadness? Who can tell, time to roll the dice And see where they fall, for all life is chance And its time to take a chance, And live your life.

Walking through my life, Ducking in and out of rain, Feeling and not acknowledging The day's clear chill. Droplets of water, Sparkling in my hair, Pausing to feel the stinging bite, Of the breeze against my skin. Breathing deep, near Subway, suddenly Hungry before moving on Muscles working and flexing Propelling me into the future. Break into a sprint, Slam the button as green Turns to amber to red Just in time to cross. Impatient to be warm And home, no ten minute Wait as I cross the intersection And again, forming an angle Crossing a bridge, over a stream Of metal, white to black, red and blue Wind whipped higher, breathe deeply Of cold clear air and enjoy feeling. Sensations and being alive, the crisp Breeze, the seldom-seen sun on my skin The feel of rain pattering against my face, And the warmth of movement. I look up at the now blue, now gray sky, And breathe in the now clear, now scented air, And listen to the heartbeat of the city, And its good to be alive.

*Gyr pokes* Unless Peredhil had a post that he later deleted, yer either addressing Tralla or meself.

*Gyr applauds* Except for the ending, it feels like when I was younger, and it was dark, and shapes moved in the depths of my room, and I knew, just knew that they would get me if I left my bed... Very nice. =)

Gyrfalcon bowed to Alexander as the leaders of his forces were dismissed, and with a small hand signal, he gathered Karl in. The two of them were the first ones out of the tent, and Gyr chuckled softly as Karl nearly slumped as the tension of being around so many higher-ranked officers left him. "Come on, Karl, lets go get the unit ready to ride... again." Karl groaned, and Gyr suppressed his own noise... a week of hard riding, and then more hours of riding and off to battle. They found the 2nd Special Ops unit easily, off to the side, clustered in small groups and talking quietly. They straightened up as Gyrfalcon strode into the middle of their formation. "Okay people, you most likely already know... especially if you're doing your jobs and keeping your eyes and ears open... the camp is forming up to attack a force of the Hand of Rectitude, who's entered the fringe of the Confederacy's territory and is burning down the forests. We're going with them. Mount up, and fall in behind the main formation. If we're needed, we'll be called up. There will be more orders then." The soldiers nodded, and murmured "Yes, sir." before climbing into their saddles. Gyrfalcon sighed as he swung atop his own horse and patted its neck. I'm getting too old for this. he thought to himself, sardonically.

*Gyr applauds* I'm a star! *grins*

*applauds*

*Gyr applauds* Moving, it is...

Gyrfalcon nodded at Alexander's words. "As you said, sir, the situation has become grim. We passed a flood of refugees heading deeper into the Confederacy as we travled here from the training grounds. They all know whats coming, sir. As to the state of my unit's readiness, General, we are fully ready to fight or lead as scouts, or to be committed to one of the other missions that is my unit's purpose, Sir. We wait only to be given our mission, General Alexander." Gyrfalcon bowed slightly and stepped back to listen to the negoations between Alexander and Cioden, his eyes dark as he thought about Cioden's shadowmonsters. What difference will victory bring, if victors and vanquished cannot be distinguished? Gyrfalcon thought to himself, considering the monstrosities that were shadows given a semblence of life and a will to slay all.

*Gyr applauds and waits patiently for more when it comes to that* I like, Yui-chan. *grin*

*applauds*

*Gyr applauds once more* I still love this one.

*Gyr applauds* Hmm... except for the last two lines, it reminds me a lot of Gloria (and no, I'm not prodding for you to work on the story, it just reminds me of her and her voices. *grins*) Very nice-- I'm glad to see you writing again. =)

*applauds*

*Gyr applauds*

Godsdamnit! Erick thought, even as Justin took firm hold of his arms and Balladore released the magical vines that had grown from between the cobblestones. A few onlookers were staring curiously, as Balladore turned away and Justin started to frog-march Erick back into the inn... and towards a most-likely messy death. Erick didn't like how Balladore had told Justin to bring him with them... not at all. Luckily for Erick, he was a thief, and part of that included learning how to be an escape artist. Waiting for the proper step, Erick suddenly rammed his foot down on Justin's instep with all the force he could, feeling Justin's grip loosen as he cried out in pain. Balladore began to turn around. I've got to hurry... Erick thought, as he rammed his elbow back, luckily hitting just under the breastplate, driving Justin's breath away, and bringing his head down for Erick to punch him. Balladore glared at his troublesome prisoner, and began to speak another spell, probably more vines to entangle Erick. Erick wasn't sticking around for that. As Justin stumbled back, dazed, Erick threw a small object at Balladore. It broke open at his feet, and a large cloud of smoke burst forth, interupting the incantation in a fit of coughing. Without pause, Erick produced more of the small objects and filled the local area with smoke. Racing towards the nearest exit from the square, Erick heard a muttered chant, and the breeze began to pick up... luckily blowing the smoke in the direction Erick was going. Thanks, druid. Erick thought as he burst through the cloud of smoke and kept on going. Behind him, he herd a voice "Hey... where's my pouch? That little.... THIEF!" With a snicker, Erick felt Justin Silverblade's pouch. He *was* a thief, after all... Later, resting on the rooftops, listening to the sounds of the darkened city, Erick just wondered how he'd keep his promise and protect Imoe, with her two closer protectors likely wanting to 'talk' to him? With a sigh, Erick shook his head... he had no way of knowing. And he still had a quota to make. No rest for the wicked... He thought, as he headed towards a quarter far away from where the druid would be. Edited by: Gyrfalcon25 at: 1/12/02 10:27:12 pm