[b][i]The Republic of Erimir[/i][/b] [hider=Nation Status] [b]Current Leader/Government:[/b] Grand Sheriff Beryl Moss (Elective Republic) [b]Settlements Owned:[/b] 3 [b]Provinces Owned:[/b] 1 [b]Population:[/b] 180,000 [b]Standing Army:[/b] [indent] - /<750>/ - /<500>// - /<2000>//<80%>[/indent] [b]Population Happiness: 90%[/b] [b]Imports:[/b] Lumber [b]Exports:[/b] Cattle, Gunpowder [b]Wealth:[/b] Average [b]Alliances:[/b] [b]Trade Pacts:[/b] Kingdom of Asax, Kingdom of Belmorn, Kingdom of Scharweilt [b]Cease Fires:[/b] [/hider] [hider=Map of Erimir] [url=http://oi57.tinypic.com/15881v4.jpg]Larger Map[/url] [IMG]http://oi57.tinypic.com/15881v4.jpg[/IMG] [/hider] [center][b][u]The First Battle of Elslen[/b][/u][/center] It was a perfect ambush. The plan was solid. It should have left her without any doubts, but for some reason Beryl felt uneasy. Perhaps it was just because she had not led an army before, or perhaps because she knew the militia standing in the open were ten times as afraid as she was from her hidden vantage point. There were a lot of things that could "perhaps" be the cause of her anxiety, but she knew better than to worry too much. The battle was near, and inaction would lead to disaster. "High Sheriff," murmured her aide, an old lieutenant rubbing his bald head. "Our scouts have sighted the orcish force ahead - a mere thousand, apparently slavers of some sort. They're equipped to capture, not to kill." "Then we have a strong numerical advantage," noted Beryl with a nod. "Inform King Dryadson, though I'm sure the elves have already spotted the orcs as well. Tell them we are in position, and we are now setting the lure. Remind Marshal Tommen that he is to use the Mossy Meadows Technique if things go poorly." "At the double, madame." The halfling saluted sharply, then jogged off to send messengers. Beryl peered out from behind the trees at the orcish force marching toward the main force. She and King Dryadson had come upon this plan while discussing the advantages and disadvantages they had when facing the orcs. The measure was simple: the orcs were better trained and much more experienced, and they would almost certainly win a pitched melee; however, elves and halflings were both naturally adept in stealth and subterfuge, and the elvish longbow would be a force to be reckoned with; and combined they had somewhere around twice the forces the Elslen orcs did. So, they agreed to strike the smaller of the two orcish armies, luring them into a position from which they could be destroyed before opening fire and overwhelming them with sheer numbers. Defeating the smaller force would reduce the orcs' numbers by a third, and victory would be almost certain. A solid plan... And the larger orcish force was defending Elslen's capital, believing the elves would march straight to it, so Dryadson said. So, why did she feel so uneasy? [i]No matter,[/i] Beryl thought, focusing on the army ahead of her. They were getting closer. The High Sheriff lifted her left hand in the air for silence, then turned to face the Infantry, all seven-hundred and fifty of them. She did not begin speaking until she heard the militia in the main army causing a ruckus to get the orcs' attention. "Remember your training," she said with a calm that betrayed none of her worry or fear. "We are hitting the enemy from their right flank. At the first sound of musket fire, we charge the orcs and shove our blades where it hurts. Until that moment, [i]not a sound. Not a peep.[/i]" She paused, then broke into a grin. "But we'll drink have plenty of ale and mutton after the battle, I tell you that!" There were a few quiet cheers and chuckles. The men were obedient, trying not to let their eager and anxious thoughts break their discipline. Still, she could see the looks on their faces. They were ready for battle, some even seeming to look forward to it. [i]They won't after today,[/i] she thought to herself. [i]Not even the best speaker could prepare them for real battle, and I'm not a talented orator.[/i] "Into position, then!" she finished. "Wait for the muskets. Follow my lead." It felt like ages were passing, but truly only a couple minutes went by. From the cover of the trees, Beryl and her companions could see the orcs advancing toward their friends. They marched at first, but then a single, sharp howl pierced the air; then, all the orcs were roaring at the top of their lungs. They broke into a terrible charge, pounding the earth beneath their heavy feet. Though there could not have been more than a thousand of them, the orcs' footfalls sounded like a stampede of elephants. They were coming closer and closer to the army in the open... closer... closer... Then, Beryl could hear Tommen's voice hollering the one word command they'd all been waiting for: "Fire!" Hundreds of muskets fired all at once, and the battle was on. [hider=The Ambush Begins] [IMG=http://oi60.tinypic.com/1zznmt.jpg] [/hider] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OlqPzgEsfW4&name=Michiel+van+den+Bos+Triumph+Within+Reach+Age+of+Wonders+III+OST]Fitting Music[/url] Beryl bolted into action at once, yelling out "Charge!" at the top of her lungs. Somewhere, as her feet slapped the ground as rapidly as they could, taking her toward the orcish flank, the words "For the Republic!" leapt from her throat like a panther. Similar cries were rising in the air, but she didn't really understand them. She was focused on the armored giants she was quickly approaching. Beryl's forces clashed with the orcs just as elvish arrows began hissing from the woods on the opposite flank, putting down rows of surprised orcs before they could react. The once coordinated orcish charge was quickly becoming a confused mess; they were pressed on all sides by pitchforks, swords, arrows, muskets, and slings. It was all happening as planned. Beryl stabbed her first orc as he was raising his sword up to cleave her in half. She darted behind him, then slipped her shortsword between the armor on the back of his leg, right into the back of the knee. As he fell forward with a surprised grunt, she dispatched him with a sharp thrust to the back of his neck, then ducked to avoid an axe swing that would have taken her head. The offending orc took a sling stone to the eye, falling back and covering his face; a halfling swordsman charged past her at the orcish formation and was literally stomped into the ground, then impaled with a spear. It was chaos. [i]But we are commanding the chaos,[/i] Beryl mused, rushing in to take another opportune strike at an orc whose back was to her. He fell a moment later with both his feet slashed open, the wounds deep, and couldn't get up. A pitchfork found its way into his face, and he stopped moving at all. The battle continued in that way for a few minutes. That was all that was needed, really. Sheer numbers and unprepared flanks spelled doom for the small orcish force; half of those that weren't dead fled, and the other half began forming a circle, jabbing their weapons at anyone that came too close. They could not attack. In a few more shots from Dryadson's elves, the battle would be won. But the arrows did not come. Then, Beryl heard the screams. [hider=A Hidden Enemy!] [IMG=http://oi57.tinypic.com/2z4a3xg.jpg] [/hider] "The elves!" someone called. "They're under attack!" The surrounded orcs seemed emboldened by those words, and they prepared to charge. A few quick shots from the halfling musketeers were enough to shatter their spirit, however; they broke then, some of them running, others charging foolishly at their enemies and meeting quick deaths. But Beryl wasn't worried about that. She yanked her spyglass from her belt and pressed it against her eye, staring across at the woods. It was true. The elves were under attack by orcs, other orcs... a lot of orcs. More importantly, the elves were losing badly, and the orcs seemed to be pushing Dryadson's retinue toward the halflings. "Infantry!" Beryl called out. "Come on! Follow me!" There was no time to think; she trusted Tommen and knew he'd command his forces well, but the elves were never going to survive without a few extra men on their side. The other elves, those who had helped flank the initial orcish force, seemed to have the same idea. The Erimir Infantry and the remainder of the elves charged into the thick of the fighting to protect King Dryadson. As Beryl made her way toward the woods, she turned and noticed... [i]Are the militia[/i] fleeing? [hider=The Militia Retreats] [IMG=http://oi61.tinypic.com/efqvf7.jpg] [/hider] [URL=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bY3VJkUSkRk]Fitting Music[/url] They were. The Erimir militia and even the well-trained musketeers were making a break for their homeland, it seemed. Beryl's hopes sunk a bit. She truly hoped Tommen wasn't giving a real withdraw command; surely, that was a... [i]It doesn't matter,[/i] she reminded herself. [i]The King! Save the King![/i] "Save the King!" she yelled at the top of her lungs. "To his side!" She and the other halflings in her company plunged into the woods straight into a terrible battle. The woman beside her took a javelin through the skull before she could even reach the melee; the man beside her was skewered by an orcish spear that simply knocked his buckler away. Beryl herself only barely brought up her sword and shield in time to block the mace swinging down at her, and she found herself knocked to her rump from the sheer force of the blow. She rolled to the side and got up, throwing herself at her enemy perhaps too recklessly. She managed to catch him off-guard, though, and struck him again and again. After the fifth thrust, or maybe it was a clash, he finally fell in a bloody heap. All around her was blood. She could smell it as much as she could see it. She tasted it on her lips, and she hated it. There was no turning back now, though. She intercepted an orcish arrow meant for an elf and found herself skittering back to escape orcish spears a moment later. Defeat seemed certain. She could barely strike without making an easy target out of herself. Elves and halflings were dying all around her. Defeat. And then thunderclaps broke the air. No - muskets! [hider=A Cunning Maneuver] [IMG=http://oi60.tinypic.com/1r3gqu.jpg] [IMG=http://oi59.tinypic.com/2j10ug4.jpg] [/hider] Enough orcs turned toward the shocking sound of gunfire, just for a few seconds, that Beryl and others beside her were able to press their brief advantage. Shrill halfling cries rose into the air; she could see the veritable mob of halflings charging out of the treeline behind the orcs, hurling stones and swinging axes, swords, and staves. Perhaps they were little more than a mob, but [i]damn[/i], such a mob she was glad to see! The orcish warriors fought hard, pressed on opposite sides by two emboldened forces. Muskets fired again, and some of them started to flee the battlefield, knowing they were losing. Horns were being blown. Howls of rage and cries of pain could be heard, but the shouts of "For Erimir!" and "Belmorn!" and "Glory!" drowned them out. The orcs' certain victory quickly turned into full retreat. They had won. Erimir and Belmorn beat the full might of Elslen's army. [i]Victory.[/i] All Beryl could say, though, as she stumbled beside an elf, with a stupid grin on her face, was: "Funny how we ambushed ambushers beat the ambushing orcs with a second ambush, eh?" And then she collapsed to the ground to catch her breath.