Charter — Roleplayer Guild

A group of twelve men stood near the front of the military formation, standing out like sore thumbs to the organized uniformed units in front of them. They wore light armour that didn't match and they wielded weapons of different types, the only thing that could be identified as a 'uniform' on these men were the various golden pieces of armour they wore that bore the symbol of the Hillklag Sellswords. These men didn't stand in a straight line, or evenly spaced from each other. Some lent on their weapons as the motivating speech was given while others stood similarly to the stance of one would expect soldiers to stand for such a moment. One of them, a man who had a golden right shoulder piece, stood with his sword drawn and stared uninterestingly at the Guardian of The Light who now spoke. Feeling a nudge on his right shoulder, he turned to look at the man who was the leader of the Hillklag squad, an obvious veteran who wielded an obnoxiously large flail. The man whispered to him, "Cheer up friend, all we have to do is survive and we'll leave as rich men." The silent man gave a dissatisfied grunt before turning his attention to the now open front gate. As the army readied itself for the eventual enemy, the Hillklag Sellsword thought on how he was hire after the caravan he was traveling on, along with a group of other Hillklag mercenaries. The man was realizing that it was probably a big mistake to take up the offer, for a following of reasons: The man who hired them was a captain, claiming the Knight-Captain wanted to hire them and that they would be paid with a sum of money that no merc ever would imagine ever receiving in a single battle. The price should have been the first warning but the fact that a captain offered the job and not a normal scribe or similar could be considered abnormal. What also said this wasn't a fair deal was that the Hillklag Sellswords were on the frontline, not like how their unit should be used. When the visage of the enemy came through the gate, the silent man stood there stunned at the size of the beasts. The Guardian called for the archers to fire, followed by the monsters to be covered in arrows. Their roar was staggering, causing a couple of the Hillklag mercs to shift backwards slightly. Then the beasts made their charge. One of the Line-breakers charged for their small group, performing an overhead swing to crush one or two of them. The Hillklag members easily dodged the attack but fumbled when the ground shook from the hit. The Line-breaker then used this distraction to perform a sweep attack, killing four of the mercenaries. At this point, the soldiers behind them also charged the beast. The Hillklag's leader shouted to his men, "Distract it! Give the grunts time to take it down." He twirled his flail and hit the leg armour of the Line-breaker, attempting to draw its attention. The Line-breaker simply kicked the man, sending him into the ranks behind them. The silent Hillklag merc had used this moment to get under the beast to slash it a few times in the weak points of its armour. The beast reached down and grabbed him by the leg, pulling him up above its head. As the Line-breaker was about to slam him against the ground, the mercenary drew his dagger from its scabbard and jabbed it into a weak point in the creature's wrist armour. The Line-breaker shrieked in pain as it let go of him, flinging it's hand as it did. The mercenary fell on top of other soldiers, his dagger still stuck in the creature's wrist. Recovering himself from the two cursing soldiers underneath him, the mercenary charged, as did a few other soldiers. Now ignoring the pain, and realizing it's imminent death, the Line-breaker took another strike with its massive weapon. When the weapon met with the ground, crushing a man at the same time, the mercenary stumbled and was shoved aside from charging soldiers. As the Hillklag Sellsword recovered, one of them soldiers managed to strike the killing blow, the beast falling to the ground. Annoyed at not getting the kill himself, the mercenary approached the beast and retrieved his dagger as soldiers rushed passed him to deal with the remaining Line-breakers. After he had pulled the blade from its place, he looked around and noticed he was the only remaining Hillklag Sellsword still standing. Eight of the eleven men he was assigned to lay on the ground with other soldiers who had been unfortunate enough. "R-R-Roger." The mercenary heard a voice underneath a couple of corpses and moved them out of the way to discover a heavily wounded Hillklag Sellsword underneath. The man had his right leg crushed, along with his single golden boot he had worn on that leg, the damage was probably done by the Line-breaker's weapon. "R-Roger. Is it over?" Roger knelt down as he inspected his fellow mercenary, this man was seemingly young, probably only had been an official Hillklag Sellsword for a few months, if not weeks. Roger, after checking his fellow's leg, gave the young man a couple of pats on his shoulder. Though he would probably have to lose his leg, the young merc would live, if they survived this fight. With that reminder, Roger glanced back at the gate as the men around him regained their fighting lines, only to see the newly revealed enemy troops. Their leanness and lack of armour confused him at first, but after seeing them react to the hail of arrows, it was quickly apparent why they wore no armour. As the creatures charged, Roger took up a position in the line, hoping someone would end up taking the wounded back to a safer point, if possible. Roger's thoughts of his comrade disappeared when the ranks troops clashed with each other.

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