#maximillian armour

[we-are-knight]

Knight, by  Alexander Ventserov

[diejager]

I have a new object of obsession🤭

There’s just a beauty to his character, the gear’s aesthetic stands out as a beautiful mix of medieval artistry and with a modern touch to it. Especially the golden accents and the red tint to it. It kind of reminds me the Hercules armour of emperor Maximillian II, more so a piece of art than an actual armour.

But honestly, everyone looks good in this new season. I love the BlackCell designs.

[nightbringer24]

The interior art for the 8th edition Warhammer Fantasy Empire army book is so good.

The skull attached to the cap, worn over a skull cap.

The eye patch with Sigmar's Comet on it

The oversized pistol, with the comet and the skull.

The griffin's head worn over the shoulders.

The fluted Maximillian-esque armour.

The helmet (going to assume burgonet) with the lion/dragon's face on it with the laurel wreath.

The hourglass worn over the armour.

I'm pretty sure it's a Dave Gallagher piece.

[inevitableisopod]

Big Angry Men

okay so a couple posts ago i mentioned mercenaries, so guesses who i was referring to?

these guys! the Landsknecht (land soldier, land warrior, land knight and, if you pronounce it incorrectly enough, land snail)

in brief these mercenaries were raised in regiments usually corresponding to a location, and they they went a-murdering (oh and they were exempt from the rules governing how peasants should dress by order of Maximillian the first, hence appearing to be dressed by a colourblind peacock)

so, how were they equipped, as this seems to be the thing you are all most interested in. firstly, they were primarily pikemen, a pike being a very big spear (around 14 feet for these fellows) and a sword at their side. this could be a langes messer(long knife), a kriegs messer (war knife), or even an arming sword or katzbalger (cat brawler)

a langes messer

a kriegs messer

a katzbalger

an arming sword

so the idea was they would make a pike square, then when they got close to another square, once the pikes had been pushed aside so they could close into a melee, draw their swords and begin to murder one another. due to the close quarters there was no real room for finesse so shorter chopping swords like the langes messer of katzbalger seem to have been preferred, i can go more into detail with how you use these weapons specifically in another post. they would also have worn as much armour as they could afford, and they later moved onto early firearms alongside the pikes.

we cannot mention the landsknecht without mentioning the doppelsoldner, or double pay soldier. as the name suggests, how did they get this double pay? the answer is we don't know im afraid, many people like to say they used greatswords, and that was what differentiated them, but i can find no actual historical evidence for this being the case. greatswords and the doppelsoldner did seem to go hand in hand but it seems to be more of symptom of prestige or, indeed, extra pay that allowed them to do this. these swords were however very interesting, and so i'll be talking more about them in my next post.

thank you all for reading my sword goblins, may your edges stay sharp, and your points true!

[steellegacy]

⚜️ Maximillian Armour for man and horse, Germany, ca. 1515

Medium: steel, leather

- -

⚜️ Доспех "максимилиановский" для человека и лошади, Германия, ок. 1515

Материалы: сталь, кожа

⠀

#maximilian #knight #armour #medievalarmour #armsandarmor #history #максимилиан

[thetruearchmagos]

The Commonwealth Calls

An Excerpt: Steel Clad Coffins

Well, damn if it hasn't been a hot minute since I did a Prose! Writing's been a real pain recently, but I just can't resist this particular WIP. Still trying to figure out how it'll go once the shooting starts, but I hope you enjoy the 'calm before the storm'.

Tagging @athenswrites @theprissythumbelina @caxycreations @hessdalen-globe @nerdexer

Major Hilda Goyan spent the drive back to her squadron’s assembly area in silence. Sergeant Klein, sitting at the wheels of the LUV-412 light utility vehicle, was happy enough to oblige. Both hussars had been on their feet for nearly three days straight, and it wasn’t hard to savour silence when you spent eight hours a day inside a screaming metal box.

The staff car pulled into A Squadron’s current assembly area just as night began to fall. Fourteen Champion armtracks and a dozen or so attendant auxiliary vehicles were nestled in a shallow valley between two wooded ridges, as safe as they could make them from prying eyes in the sky. War had a habit of complicating maintenance schedules, and Goyan’s mechanics were working overtime whenever they could snatch the chance to keep the battle wagons in fighting condition.

Klein pulled up at the foot of one of the ridges, where two armtracks sat apart from the rest, nestled in the trees and covered with green netting. A squat metal box of a vehicle was even deeper into the woods, and its lack of a turret or any armament at all marked it out as a mobile command post. Figures scurried about here and there under the netting, and as Goyan stepped out of the car and waved away her driver, one of them took off towards her.

“Evening, boss! How’s ol’ Shah doing?”

“Well enough, Maxy. I’d say the threat of sudden action’s put a kick in him again.”

Lieutenant Maximillian Schafer smiled. Goyan’s executive officer tossed her a cold can of beer, from his rapidly dwindling personal cache, and fell in two steps behind his Major and to her right.

“Guess that explains why 2nd Platoon's just come back. I’m guessing none of the other squadrons need ‘em?”

“Not with how the Colonel’s planned things. Shah wants his armour in one piece for the raid. This time tomorrow, we'll either be charging through once they hit something interesting, or covering them if it all goes to shit.”

“Lovely, boss. I’ll tell the troopers the good news.”

[halfurganymede]

The Vicar's Betrayal: Part One

SPOILERS: This story contains spoilers for The Outer Worlds and The Empty Man (Max's companion quest)

‘And what am I supposed to be doing while you are on your, so called “girls night”?’ Vicar Maximillian Desoto's tone was sour. He was leaning, cross armed, against the entrance to The Unreliable's cafeteria, watching his captain get ready for her night on the Grounbreaker with Parvati and Ellie. He felt a small pang of jealousy that he hadn’t been invited along, but reminded himself that a night listening to the captain and the ship's doctor giving drunken relationship advice to Edgewater's erstwhile engineer was very much something that he didn’t wish to be a part of.

The captain was shrugging on a lightweight spacers jacket she’d picked up from some Law forsaken place. It wasn’t stained with blood and didn’t appear to have any bullet holes so it couldn’t have been from any of their recent, hard fought adventures.

‘You can spend the night with Felix,’ She smiled. ‘I’m sure you’ll both have fun.’

‘Really captain,’ Max grimaced in response. ‘I think I’d much rather remain in my quarters studying my texts. It will surely prove much more fulfilling.’

‘Come on vicar. It’s one night. And isn’t there a tossball match or something on? I know he’s a Rangers fan but you can always comfort him on his losses.’

‘Look how the last man ended up,’ Max muttered. That made her laugh and the vicar's lips twitched at her amusement.

‘I just don’t see why you feel the need to pick up every waif and stray we come across Captain.’ Max’s smile ran into a frown.

‘Don’t knock the system Vicar.’ The captain’s own smile was tight lipped. ‘It’s how we ended up with you after all.’

He scowled at that. As far as he remembered, he’d invited himself along on this grand misadventure with the understanding that the good captain would be helping him out with his own personal matter. He felt a sudden pang of guilt. He hadn’t been entirely truthful with the captain but after the revelation of that cursed journal... he couldn’t let her know his intentions. It wouldn’t sit well with the kind hearted captain. She might deny him passage to Monarch at all and it was going to be difficult enough to get past the blockade as it was. He thanked The Architect that her own personal quest seemed to be taking her to that backwater moon anyway so he hadn’t had to push her too hard.

 The captain absentmindedly ran her fingers through her hair and turned from the tiny mirror they had set up on the wall to face him.

‘How do I look?’ She gave him an awkward shrug and a bashful smile.

‘It’s nice to see you out of armour captain.’ The vicars tone was dry but he delivered it with his signature smirk. She laughed again and shook her head.

‘Can’t spend our whole lives running from gun fight to gunfight can we? Its good to have some down time Max, for all of us. Enjoy your night off.’

‘If you insist captain,’ Max conceded.

‘What’s taking so long cap’n?!’ Ellie's voice carried up the two flights of stairs, exuding irritability.

‘Jeez Ell, keep your shirt on, I’m coming,’ the captain yelled over Max’s shoulder. Felix poked his head out his quarters and gave the captain a large grin.

‘You guys have fun,’ he said. ‘Wish I was coming with you...’ He trailed off as the vicar turned his head to look at him. The young man was nervous of Max, the vicar could tell, but the hot headed stowaway would never admit it.

‘Don’t worry Felix.’ The captain returned his smile. ‘Max said he’d watch the tossball match with you.’ She tipped a wink at the vicar as he turned back to her and scowled, but Felix lit up.

‘Nice one!’ The young man made his way through, past the two of them and to the fridge for some Zero Gee. ‘No fun watchin’ a game on your own. You best be keeping up with me though preacher.’ Felix tipped the bottle in Max’s direction, tone and posture full of cheek and challenge.

‘Be nice,’ the captain warned, tapping Max’s arm on the way past. He didn’t bother suppressing his labored sigh. The captain’s laughter echoed through the ship as she made her way to her waiting friends.

[medieval-shitposter]

favorite armor style? mine is probably maximillian and cuirassier

Definitely gothic, I mean

Look at this. Stunning. Beautiful. 10/10.

Maximillian is also pretty neat (I love the fluting!!), and while curassier armour looks a lil weird to my eye (dem legs???) I absolutely have to share what is my favourite curassier art ever:

Bang ™

[oldschoolfrp]

“Maximillian” jousting armour, 16th century, named for the Holy Roman Emperor, usually fluted on most surfaces in imitation of the clothing of the day  (The Palladium Book of Weapons and Armour by Matthew Balent, with illustrations by Mary Walsh and Kevin Siembieda, Palladium Books, 1981)

[clonesupport]

found this photo of max i took a while back on my phone and i never posted it so thought i would now

please accept this offering of a nice moody night time lighting max wearing bulky armour in fallbrooke

[varanusniloticus]

Adam Savage Tours the MET's Last Knight Exhibit! Bonus: Picture Gallery

[cowperviolet]

A GUIDE TO MEDIEVAL TOURNAMENTS

Do you have a dynastic wedding to celebrate? A diplomatic visit to spice up? An axe to grind with a neighbour whose pageantry is eclipsing yours? Organize a tournament. It’s always the answer. A tournament of the greatest knights of the realm cannot go wrong.

Of course, it’s also a great and complex undertaking; but, thankfully, this step-by-step handbook should guide you through the process with only minimal pain and no injury

Obtain permission.

In England in France at least, organizing tourneys had become mostly a royal and ducal prerogative after 1340 – if you are not lucky enough to belong to one of those miniscule categories of the population, you would have to seek a special license. Obtaining it shouldn’t be a problem… unless, of course, there is a war on. In that case, you’d better check the latest royal proclamations – it’s more than possible that one of them contains a temporary ban on all tournaments while men of fighting age might have to risk their lives and limbs against an actual enemy. If this is true, it would be prudent of you to postpone your plans for a few months (or years, depending on how the war is going) – you wouldn’t want to content yourself with the kind of furtive affair that was the Le Hem tournament of 1278. It was hastily staged in direct violation of Louis IX ’s prohibition of tournaments because of the ongoing war, and as a result had to even dispense with the mêlée on the third day.

(If you think the prohibition overbearing and unfair, plenty of people would agree with you – and not just the kind of people who can afford swords and horses. The poet Sarrasin criticized the king in his Le Roman du Hem for bankrupting the heralds, armourers, saddlers and provisioners of France with his tournament ban).

2. Consider the time and place.

Most tourneys run from Monday to Sunday, with Friday being the rest day. You would need a spacious marketplace to divide into lists, too.

A lot depends on what kind of tournament you want to host. A general mêlée whose absence so disappointed the spectators in Le Hem would need more space than a contained joust; on the other hand, mêlée combat has been steadily losing its popularity as of late in favour of one-on-one jousts.

Of course, some people grumble that the old days when horsemen smashing into enemy in massed formations were the fixture of any tournament where the days when men were still men. But we are modern, fifteenth-century people, and we understand the importance of ensuring safety both for the participants and the spectators – hence the barriers down the centre of each list to prevent the knights from actually colliding with each other, and fenced enclosures to keep the audience strictly away from the danger. Which brings us to…

3. Decide on the rules.

The traditional rules of joust are the following: the knights are divided into two teams, those ‘within’ and those ‘without’ – or, in other words, the ‘defenders’ and the ‘attackers’. The space is, in turn, divided into three lists, each separated from the other by high barriers. The courses – the charges by two opposing knights – are going to be run down each, towards the spectacular splintering of lances. Each day, a prize, usually in the form of a small jewel or a golden chain, should be given to the best-performing knight and squire from each team.

You can, however, add or tweak a few details in order to make the sport safer for the participants – or more exhilarating for the audience. For example, you could take a page out of Maximillian I’s book and provide the knights with special spring-loaded shields that would flow apart if struck in the right place. You could also follow King Edward of England’s example and model your tournament after the béhourd he sponsored in Windsor in 1278: he specified, among other things, that the participants would have to wear cuir bouilli – a type of leather boiled until it was almost as hard as metal – and use wooden shields and whalebone swords.

If you scoff at the lightweight kind of tourneys popular these days, and especially if you care little for pageantry, then a different kind of joust might be more up your alley. The so-called passage of arms, or pas d’armes, is an undertaking to defend a certain place (usually a bridge or a gate) from all comers. It was inspired by various episodes from Arthurian romances, such as the Romance of Yvain by Chrétien de Troyes. In fiction, the knights undertook the defend a bridge, a gate, or a ford in single combat, and, if they were defeated, the winner took their place. Naturally, a real passage of arms plays out somewhat differently – for one thing, the defense only lasts a specified period of time (rarely longer than two weeks), and one defeat in a particular joust does not mean surrender. The most famous example of any knights attempting this kind of endeavor is probably the pas d’armes that Suero de Quinones organized at the Orbigo Bridge in northern Spain for two weeks until the St. James’ Day of 1434. They claimed a plan of breaking 300 lances in total – if they failed, the organizers promised, they would remain there for a further fortnight. They fulfilled that promise, and ended up withdrawing only on the 9th of August – but even with that extra time, they’ve only managed to break 178 lances in total. It’s no mean result, of course – plenty of minor conventional tourneys end in mighty disappointment for the spectators with not a single lance ending up broken at all.

It must be said that, although a passage of arms is a grandiose undertaking, jousting proper usually only takes a couple of hours a day there – in other words, the spectators are likely to be disappointed anyway. Your fellow knights, however, are going to be delighted by the concept – if, of course, they are true connoisseurs of tourneys just like you.

4. Think of the logistics.

The matter might begin with the rules of fighting itself, but it doesn’t end there. If you are in a position to organize a tournament out of your own purse in the first place, you must be the master of the lands where it’s going to be held, so make sure your subjects don’t suffer as a result of the soaring prices that usually accompany such events, not to mention the influx of professional warriors. Fix the prices firmly for the duration of the tournament, especially the prices on bread, fish, and meat; stipulate that no spectators or unarmed persons are to mix with the participants; make sure each gate of the city is manned by about twelve armed men, and station at least five hundred guards around the setting of the tournament itself.

5. Send out invitations.

Sending letters of invite seems to be the most logical course – however, it is also the most excruciating one, given the number of noblemen of fighting age who would be eligible for participation. In your situation, it would be better to contact the organizer of the tourney closest to yours and ask him to have your upcoming event announced there.

You would also do well to contact the tournament societies in your region – if you live in Germany, it’s going to be particularly easy: the whole concept, after all, originated in Bavaria. Tournament societies are essentially permanent tournament teams from different regions. Instead of laboriously summoning individual knights, one could simply issue a challenge from one society to another. Moreover, some societies’ rules even specify that the members have to meet annually at a tournament -it might as well be yours!

6. Think of the theme.

Of course, you don’t have to have a theme – you might want your tournament to simply be a bit of rough, honest fun it used to be in William Marshall’s days. We don’t live in William Marshall’s days anymore, though, and I suspect you wouldn’t want to be outdone by your neighbours.

The most go-to theme are Arthurian legends. It’s the kind of oldie-but-goldie you cannot go wrong with. The fashion was arguably started by Edward I of England, who set out a round table and acted out a number of Arthurian romances with the other noblemen at the feast after the tournament in honour of his daughter’s wedding. That was a far cry from the spectacular Arthurian festival arranged across the Channel by the lords Longueval and Bazentin in Picardy: they had the tournament presided over by ‘Queen Guinevere’, and stipulated that all the attendant knights had to bring a damsel with them. Another member of the theatricals was named as Chevalier au Lyon, who supposedly ‘rescued’ the ladies in ‘Guinevere’s retinue, and even had a real lion with him.

If this is all a bit too out there for you (or, the other way around, too pedestrian – everyone does the Round Table these days!), you could organize the pageantry of the tournament around your heroic ancestor or your sigil – possibly both. For example, the joust that Adolf of Cleves staged in Lille had been inspired by the story of the Cleves’ progenitor, a knight who was miraculously led along the Rhine by a swan and ended up marrying the local princess. During the joust, the ‘Knight of the Swan’ was to take on all challengers.

The procession, to quote the words of a contemporary, included

‘…drummers; and after them a pursuivant of arms dressed in a coat of arms full of swans; after him came a large swan, marvellously and skilfully made, with a crown of gold around its neck, from which hung a shield of the full arms of Cleves; and from this crown hung a golden chain on which, from one end, there hung the shield of the knight; and this swan was flanked by two very well made centaurs who had bows and arrows in their hands, and made as though to shoot at anyone who tried to approach the swan’.

7. Plan the banquet.

Nothing can sour the impression of a great tourney as a meagre banquet afterwards. The need for a generous display of food is self-explanatory – roebucks, suckling pigs, silvered eels, gilded bread, almond soup, kid goats, and the like – however, this is sadly not enough. You also have to think about the entremets.

What are the entremets? To put it simply, everything that is a part of the banquet, but is not edible. I’m not simply talking about straightforward entertainments like music, theatre pieces, or juggling. Entremets can also be elaborate installations for your guests to admire, such as a mini-carrack, exquisitely executed up to the last rope and laden with goods, or a mechanical forest full of strange, if thankfully unmoving, beasts. Even vessels sometimes count – you could have the sweets be contained in little chariots decorated with gold and azure. If you prefer to walk on the wild side, take a page out of Taillevent’s book (quite literally – it’s called Viandier) and construct a fake lion equipped to spout flame: ‘make it with a brass-lined mouth and a thin brass tongue, and with paper teeth glued in the mouth; and put camphor and a little cotton in the mouth and, when it is about to be served before the lords, set fire to this’.

Just don’t do what they did for the Feast of the Pheasant when they’ve made a statue of a naked woman in a large hat who spouted sweetened wine from her breasts for the duration of the dinner. Please.

Sources:

Normore, Christina. A Feast for the Eyes.

Andrew Brown and Graeme Small, Court and Civic Society in the Burgundian Low Countries c. 1420–1530.

Kelcey Wilson-Lee, Daughters of Chivalry: The Forgotten Children of Edward I.

[the-man-who-sold-za-warudo]

Soul Calibur 6 is set in the 16th century and they have a copy of the Archduke Maximillian armour. Really nice job they did. I need to unlock the full set though.

[wymanthewalrus]

🔞 Denia 👻 Father Bardas

This is Denia in something sexy and Father Bardas in a really bad disguise, both of which I believe are due to happen over the course of their story!

———–

“My lady.” The inflection in Garth Galvayne’s voice indicated that the statement was a prelude to a question. Two years of attempting to break the Knight’s strange code of conduct had shown Denia few results. She knew from experience what his question would be.

“Yes, Galvayne. Speak freely.”

Garth’s golden eyes twinkled, and a smile stretched across his chiseled, hazelnut features. “Were I not bound by my Code, I would be forced to praise your attractiveness, even to the extent of propositioning some form of intimacy.”

Denia grinned, glancing down at her armour. It was the finest suit of plate she had ever laid eyes on, or at least second finest if one counted Galvayne’s magnificent golden-painted plate armor. This suit was more subdued, fortunately, and it fit her well both aesthetically and physically. The metal had been dyed a deep bluish-grey, and was etched from top to bottom with scrollwork and symbols. Wolves featured prominently across it, frozen mid-bound across the chest plate and pauldrons. 

It wasn’t the first full-plate suit she had worn, but it was special. It felt as if it had been crafted to fit not just her body, but her soul as well. It moved freely and easily, almost like a second skin.

Garth watched her test its flexibility and nodded pensively. “Titanite is a wondrous metal, is it not?”

“That’s selling it short, I think,” Denia said as she stepped off of the fitting platform, moving to the far wall. Her hammer leaned against the wall, the long handle stretching nearly four feet above the elongated iron head. Denia picked it up, hefting it in her hands to test the grip of her gauntlets. The many overlapping plates and scales of her armor slid perfectly around each other, as smooth as water flowing around a worn river stone.

“I don’t know how I could ever possibly repay Daron for this.”

Galvayne nodded again as Denia returned to the center of the room and began to practice her swings. “I should think that he wishes you indebted to him. A many-layered send-off if I’ve ever seen one; a splendid gift that ensures that the recipient owes the giver a favor at some later date.”

Denia snorted as she brought the hammer down in an overhead swing. “That man is too smart for his own good.” She spun the hammer in her hands, feeling the weight of the head as it forced its way through the air. She grinned as she pulled out of another swing, turning to the doorway in the same motion.

“Come on, let’s show Maximillian! He’s going to be so jealous.”

—————

It had been exactly five years and three months to the day since Father Jenson Bardas, priest of the Theus of Death and Time, had last dressed up as a Camp Follower from Lantann. That hadn’t been the first time, of course, but it had been long enough that he had been hoping it had been the last.

As always, it had been Denia who had crushed his hopes. “You’re the only one of us with acting experience and cheekbones,” she had said. “A little ochre coloring and you’l be perfect!”

‘Perfect’ was not the word Bardas would have used to describe dressing up as an aging prostitute in order to infiltrate an enemy encampment, let alone the encampment of the Silent Emperor himself. It was times like this that made him remember why he had become a priest of Patir as opposed to one of the more comprehensible deities. He could pray for the experience to be over with more than double the chance of it actually happening, either through his own sudden cessation of existence or some strange warping of time.

Unfortunately, neither had happened so far. He was just about to mouth yet another plea for release when a passing soldier called out to him.

“Prife, koe i rora!” The call didn’t seem to be aggressive, but Bardas rushed to translate it in his head. “Hey, you there!” Well that certainly required a response.

“Ae? Aha sdelal te mati ne?” Yes? Have I done something wrong?

The soldier must have recognized his poor accent, and switched to a broken Gillaran instead. “You are kairatutka, yes? Prostitute? You would like some of I?”

Bardas hastily declined and hurried on his way, blushing furiously beneath his already-reddened makeup. He wasn’t in the mood at the moment, but more importantly he didn’t have time.

 He had an Emperor to seduce.

[steellegacy]

📸 Photo from @loricaclothing ⠀ A close-up of the field armor of Maximillian I, circa 1480, currently on view at @metmuseum as part of the "Last Knight" exhibition. ⠀ This armor is a stunning example of the Gothic style, with its fluted decoration and exquisite punch work. One might look at such a work of art and think surely it must be a purely decorative piece, but indeed this armor was intended for the battlefield. It was created when the future Holy Roman Emperor was just a 23-year-old prince, recently crowned Duke of Burgundy, and eager to craft the powerful, noble image that would establish his influence in the years of his reign. ⠀ - - Фото полевого доспеха Максимиллиана I, ок. 1480 г., который находился в @metmuseum в рамках выставки «Последний рыцарь». ⠀ Этот доспех - потрясающий образец готического стиля с изысканным чеканным рифлением. Можно было бы подумать, что такое произведение искусства должно быть чисто декоративным, но на самом деле эта броня была настоящим боевым снаряжением. Доспех был создан, когда будущий Император Священной Римской империи был всего лишь 23-летним принцем, недавно коронованным герцогом Бургундии, и стремившимся создать мощный, благородный образ, который усилил бы его влияние в годы его правления. ⠀ #armor #armour #metlastknight #metarmsandarmor #armsandarmor #armsandarmour #medievalhistory #medievalarmor #medievalart #15thcentury #historyfacts #historylover #medievalworld #middleages #themet #metropolitanmuseumofart #artmuseum #historymuseum https://www.instagram.com/p/B5Pm3f9HurY/?igshid=15vywdwkxhrt7

[constanzemachiavelli]

Assault on Fort Sudval (Lord of War, Part IV)

“No fucking way!” Tanef was reading through Shirra's message. “They want us to storm a fort with just auxiliary forces? It is clear that they just want to wipe us out so that mercenaries don't take all the glory in the great battle that's going to take place. This is ridiculous and when we get out of that situation I will punch that Maximilliam in the nose!”

    She rode besides Thurn in a slow trot. He listened to the small rant Tanef had upon reading the message.

    She had woken up a few hours ago and was as energetic as ever. She assessed the situation fully – a war has been declared by Amelgalia towards Reval. It was caused by some provocations about use of river waters by local peasantry, but it was clear that Amelgalia simply wanted to enforce dominance on their northern rival. They were ready to go to war for the smallest provocation.

    Now, they called all the levies and mercenaries and went to war. Tanef's band, The Endeavour, was also called and their small band of 100 men had mobilized. A skeleton crew of 10 men were left behind but the rest 87 with Shirra as their temporary captain went on and joined the grand host. They would be heading for fort Sudwal at the southern border of Reval. There they were ordered to storm it within 5 days of arrival. Thurn, Tanef and Loth now had to race there and take over command over their band before a bad decision was made in their absence. Hopefully the commanders there won't initiate an assault before their arrival.

    They rode westwards now, backtracking where they came from in the wilderness. They rode quickly, as time was not to be wasted. They even skipped a night of sleep to get there faster. They were sleepless, tired and anxious to see what would happen. It would take 2 more days to get there.

    They slept through the night to the second day. Tanef once more stayed awake for the night, even though the sleeplessness was taking a toll on her as well. She was laying on her back in the grass and looking up at the skies. It has been 3 years since she left her subterranean home and came to this world, but she still was amazed by the sky. It wasn't as big of a spectacle as before, but it still amazed her. She liked to look at the stars in the night and imagine flying in the sky among them. They can't be that far away, right? She would never allow anyone to take this spectacle away from her.

    She didn't even miss her home. It was miserable living alone and almost impoverished, even though she lived in the wealthy elvish district. She was the only one remaining in her clan's house after the great schism and everyone leaving. She still wonders what happened, why did everyone leave and started killing each other? Was it really only because they defeated their rivals?

    Before she knew it, she was asleep, lost in her thoughts.

    She dreamed, but the dreams were... weird. They weren't like usual dreams, where her mind flew wild. It was... like a lecture. A flow of information pulsed through her visions in sleep. It felt like something important was told... about.. about different worlds and.. her...

    She was woken awake by Thurn. The sun was rising over the horizon and everyone was waking.

    “You fell asleep after all, huh?” Thurn said, laughingly.

    Tanef sat up and shook her head. What was that dream about? She had no idea and it was lost now. Whatever it was, it seemed important and wass trying to tell her something.

    She stood up and picked her things and they all went on their way northwards. That day, in the afternoon, they finally reached the borders of Reval. They saw the banners of the golden lion of Amelgalia on the red background flying high from the border outpost, similar but smaller than Tanef's fort. It just made her worry more about fort Sudwal, as her own fort was nothing but a small outpost in comparison to real fortifications.

    It was more wooded than to the south, it seemed very likely to get ambushed . But, once they met up with the guards at the outpost and solved the problem with rogue mercenaries following the great host of Amelgalia,, it was explained that Reval still hadn;'t managed to mobilize their own forces. Even though it would make sense to just strike the heart of the enemy right now, Maximillian wasn't interested in a siege. He wanted a battle, a decisive battle where the might of Amelgalia would be proven and imposed on Reval.

    They continued riding on their way. As the night set, they passed by the camp of the main Amelgalian host. The three decided to stay the night among these soldiers and possibly get in touch with general Maximillian himself.

    They entered the camp and, after having a confrontation with the guards again about who they were, they figured out while talking to the other soldiers where they could possibly set their own tents to sleep in. After that was done being set up, they started mingling with everyone there.

    The camp was bustling with activity, soldiers talking, drilling and sharpening their weapons. The sun was already setting but everyone was still preparing for the big confrontation they were being told about. They had all kinds of emotions about the upcoming – fear and excitement, horror and yearning for battle.

    There were many fireplaces sprinkled all around the camp, if Tanef had to guess, she'd say there were around 5000 people in the camp. Some of the men were preparing meals for the evening already, and the smell of alcohol was slowly rising up. Tanef was not interested in any of this and wanted to see the general. She asked around some soldiers where she could find his tent and they showed directions.

    They walked towards it and saw fancier tents cropping up, clearly influential knights who are also seeking glory just like this general. It seemed awfully silent, though, but lots of noise was coming up at the end of it. They saw a grander tent, something a general would have, and some men had exited it, laughing loudly and walking awkwardly... as if they were drunk.

    Tanef had bad suspicions and braced herself. The closer she got, the stench of alcohol got stronger and her fears were growing higher and higher. She reached the tent, the entrance was covered by cloth you would need to pull away to enter. Inside she heard laughter, yelling, incoherent speech and even a bottle smashing against something. And the stench... it was awfully strong. She entered and she saw...

    ...chaos. Utter and complete chaos. Men were laying on the ground drunk beyond comprehension and pissed pants, people riding on each others backs to mimic jousting, everyone covered in filth and alcohol and just... chaos. Tanef saw no hope in the leadership of this army. All she could see was complete failure to actually defeat Reval. The hubris and incompetence this display of pathetic degeneracy showed her what she feared about Amelgalia the whole time – they are blinded by their own greed and pride. And throwing such a party in the middle of a campaign? Insanity!

    Tanef backed off, got some deep breathes in and calmed herself down. She felt bile forming up at the back of her throat, the stench making her physically sick.

     She entered back into the tent and said loudly: “Who here is General Maximillian?”

    The people in the tent laughed and pointed to the right end of the tent, where a man with long blonde hair was laying on a chair, almost sliding off, and asleep, supposedly drunk. Tanef spat on the ground in disgust and left the tent.

    Tanef was seriously done at that point. She couldn't stomach it at all. She stomped angrily away back to her companions, interacting with the soldiers. She found Thurn and Loth talking happily with them and sat besides her companions. For the remainder of the night they exchanged conversations with various people, talking about life back home, their loved ones and the war itself. Tanef knew how demoralizing it would be to reveal their leadership as incompetent to the soldiers so she kept silent. She kept her worries to herself.

    And the night fell and they all three went to their tents and went to sleep, hoping to reach the siege camp the next day.

    “Thurn... you were taught warfare and strategy as the kel of Amelgalia, right?” Tanef asked, riding northwards with her companions.

    “Of course! We were expected to lead armies and issue orders, and properly assess the situations for the right kind of action.” Thurn responded. “Why do you ask? ”

    Tanef was silent at first but then said: “It's just that... I think that the general might need some help with your advice. My impression with him was... lacking, if I had to say.”

    “You think he is incapable of leading the army?” Thurn asked.

    “Yeah, that's what I think. His... strategy... seemed horrific to me. It's all about one decisive battle. I think he might be underestimating his opponents.” Tanef answered.

    “Well... I didn't meet this man so I can't say anything about it. What about his subordinates? How did they seem to you? They should be able to straighten up the general in case he makes a mistake.” Thurn said enthusiastically.

    “I... think they might just be feeding his hubris.” Tanef said, remembering the charade she saw in the tent.

    “Really? Now I am having worries as well.” he answered.

    “Did you hear anything about Hornhrug?” Loth asked from behind.

    “No... he might have found a different realm to serve under, or maybe he isn't a fighter at all!” Thurn told Loth. “But I do also wonder what he might be doing since he left us.”

    They kept riding for most of the day, exchanging a few more topics along the way. They kept riding through similarly wooded areas as before and eventually reached a checkpoint, guarded by soldiers, but these seemed different from Amelgalian ones, yet they still bore the banner of Amelgalia on the side of the road.   

    “No one is allowed to pass here. There is a siege going on and we are not allowed to let any people pass through, lest they help our enemy.” the soldier said, wearing some well worn, but also well maintained armour. A mercenary, probably.

    “Captain Tanef from The Endeavour. We are here to join the siege.” she said.

    “Ah, the Endeavour! We were told that someone from that band would be coming here. Apologies, captain. We are letting you and your companions through.” the guard said.

    “Thank you and thank you for your work making sure the siege is not disturbed.” Tanef answered and rode on her way. Thurn and Loth nodded their heads to the guard and followed Tanef.

    Not soon after this small exchange, they arrived in the camp, surrounding the fort. At first glance, it was clearly bigger than Fort Havyn. At further glance, it was full of garrison, steel helmeted heads shining behind the portcullis. The camp was set around 700 yards away from the walls, well behind what a crossbow can shoot at. There were some siege engines set up, some ballistae, but Tanef thought that they would be useless against this fortification – the walls were too high and the garrison was way too protected by the granulation.

    She found her own band in the camp – at the east side of the fort. Shirra was nearby and welcomed her 3 friends. She explained that the situation among the other mercenary commanders was dire – no one wanted to assault the fort, because they knew it would take grave casualties to do that. The fort had 300 men inside and protected a notable road junction through the woods, and with it in the way, the army can't progress any further. In a way, similar to Fort Havyn. But this one was square shaped, with two towers at opposite edges – south west and north east. The mercenaries had 500 men in total.

    It was a difficult situation, Tanef thought. None of the commanders wanted to send their forces first into the battle, the first ones would be killed off immediately. A battering ram and ladders to scale the walls were prepared already, but no one wanted to be the ones to take charge.It was a very difficult position to be in right now.

    A day passed, the deadline for the attack was about to come and they would all need to come up with a plan for the attack soon or be punished by their masters. Tanef walked around the camp, passed by the ballistae and thought to herself. “We need to get people in to cause chaos among their lines.” She had a silly idea “What if we had catapults shoot our people behind their lines..” She laughed by herself... but then had a realization – the ballistae can only shoot over the towers, they can't hit the men at all. But they can shoot over them.

    She called up her band and told them the plan.   

    “This is madness! You can't be serious, Tanef” Shirra said.

    “I am completely serious. I promise, this will work out!” she responded.

    “I... I can't agree to this plan, sorry” Thurn said.

    “Come on, this is going to work out. But we need to coordinate this with others!” Tanef said and left the meeting.

    “Should we follow her plan?” Shirra asked the rest.

    “I really don't want to. She has been kind of weird lately, maybe it's just a phase.” Thurn said.

    “But what if she does follow through? What if we have to follow and she fails?” Shirra said, worried and paranoid.

    “I am sure she won't fail, but the plan is madness. She is stronger than all of us combined, but it still will be difficult to pull off.” Thurn responded.

    Tanef stormed back into the meeting; “Alright, so everyone is assuming their positions now and we are going NOW!”

    Horns sounded around the camps as forces were assembled to launch an assault. The attack would take place on the south with the ram aiming for the gate, while the ladders would mass on the eastern corner, opposite of the tower on the west corner. A movable wall of wooden palisades were prepared for the archers and crossbowmen to clear the path for the men with ram and ladders to establish contact with the places they needed to be at.

    Meanwhile, Tanef would borrow the otherwise useless ballistae and go to the western corner, where the tower was. The tower had no roof, but acted as a small castle within thea fort, where it would be difficult to get in. But Tanef had an idea to crack it immediately and cause a proper distraction for the rest of her forces, who would take control of the ram and ladders under the cover of their allied arrows and bolts.

    The horns sounded and an assault was launched, the archers took place behind the palisades that were established already and exchanged shots with the enemy on the walls. They were moving step by step closer, people with ladders and the ram standing to be ready to move in. The ram was almost like a building on wheels – it had a roof for the men manning it and a ram in the centre, they were defended against the enemy from up, but given enough force, the roof would be penetrated if not covered by allied fire.

    At the same time, Tanef was ordering the ballistae engineers to move closer, so the shot could be made. The ballistae were stronger than a crossbow and could shoot further, but the engineers were still scared. It took all Tanef could muster with her speech skills to finally convince them of moving closer, and maybe a bit of persuasion with the help of a blade. They established themselves 500 yards from the tower.

    She prepared her swords, a curved scimitar with no significant qualities in her left, and a black, runed shortsword in her right. She had found this sword 3 years ago in an adventure with Thurn in a hellish world. This sword... is making her more enduring in the midst of a battle and she doesn't know why, but she thinks it might be because the sword is feeding the blood of her victims back to her.

    She prepared herself and stood on top of a ballistae. She counted down from 3 for the engineers, who were aiming them way above the tower. She braced herself and...

    ...jumped and caught one of the bolts flying towards the towar. She spun while holding and soon reached the tower. It didn't fly above it, instead it punctured the wall and hung in there, stuck. The defenders looked down, because they saw what had happened and wondered if the madman who pulled down that stunt is still hanging there. But Tanef was quicker and swung herself above and chopped off 2 of the heads that were looking down and landed on top of the tower. She didn't wait for the shock to pass and went on a rampage to kill all the defenders on top of that tower, slashing and hacking everyone she saw.

    Thurn was looking from below near where the assault took place. He saw how Tanef smashed against the tower and swung herself up. He even faintly heard through the chaos happening right there for him the screams of horror on top of the tower. “She must have done that, then” he taught to himself, “I guess it's part of our plan now.”

    He ordered the ladders and ram to be brought onwards. The ram was slowly pushed towards the gate, while the men with ladders, numbering 15, got into their positions with a column of first wavers behind them. Thurn came in front, with his great sword, swung it above his head and pointed towards the walls. “Onwards!” he shouted and the men ran to the walls under the covering fire of their archers and crossbowmen, who already had suffered some casualties.

    The ladder men ran and got into their positions quickly, holding their ladders against the wall while staying under them to keep them up. Unfortunately some of them were shot down but most still managed to get there. The soldiers followed soon afterwards, jumping on the ladders and climbing up with swords and axes in their hands. The defenders threw everything they had at them – arrows, bolts and stones. Many died, but many more reached the top fought their way on the battlements and pushed ahead, with Thurn being one of those leading the attack. The walls were slowly being breached, even though some ladders were pushed down. The battering ram was reaching the gate and threatening to ram it.

    Meanwhile, more and more men were drawn away from the east and called to defend the west side, where a rampaging Tanef was plowing through the enemies. She was covered in blood by that point, and with an unrelenting ruthlessness against her foes. She moved down from the tower and entered the lower level, fighting down the stairs and reaching the bottom, where enemies from all sides were throwing themselves at her.

    Tanef exited the tower building and moved on towards the wall, moving northwards, away from where the assault was taking place. She was running on the wall, slashing through every enemy in her way and deflecting arrows and bolts with just a swing of her arm, knocking them off with an ability she discovered she had 3 years ago.

    It made her project a... thing with just her mind. It manifested physically and yet was invisible. She made it to project sharp objects to puncture enemies, or blunt forces to knock objects away, just like she was doing it right now. But if she used it too much, she raqn in the possibility of falling unconscious from overexerting herself.

    In the southeastern edge, though, Thurn was leading a charge through the thick enemy lines on the walls. He was moving west along the wall, with the fire of the enemy archers subsiding as he was too close to not be able to avoid shooting their own men. He was hacking through with his blessed blade, which had been given to him upon his becoming of kel. It had become damaged, though, from the blood of the hellish creatures back in that realm. Nevertheless, it was still a fearsome weapon in his hand that could hardly be countered due to his almost inhuman strength.

    The southern wall was soon cleared up from the enemy and joined the forces in the east to help storm the second tower. It was smaller than the other one, but it was where the commander of the fort was. Some men moved down to the courtyard and fought and pacified the men down there and opened the gate, pushed the battering ram aside (which was pretty useless after all) and got a flood of men inside.

    The commander, seeing that the fort had fallen, was ready to take out the white flag and surrender, but before he could do that, a dripping and covered in red Tanef smashed open the door to the tower entrance on the west side and went on an onslaught inside, with men screaming in terror. Quickly, she reached the second level of the tower, the top, and slaughtered everyone there. She found the commander crouching down in a corner, hiding, but it was useless, as Tanef had seen him and crossed her sword around the neck and decapitated him in one easy stroke.

    The mercenaries were celebrating their victory at the fort. They had taken way less casualties than they expected they would take. They were celebrating by drinking and dancing, and singing. The corpses were cleaned out and the prisoners assembled in a small prison camp. In total, they captured about 100 enemy soldiers, while around 200 were killed, including the commander.

    Tanef was all talk in the celebrations. It was talked about how she launched herself on top of the tower, some even making up stories about how she winded up the ballistae with her own hands or that she stood on top of the bolt instead of grabbing onto it.

    The Endeavour was hit quite badly, though. It lost 32 men and only 68 remained. It could have been more, though, if not for the stunt Tanef pulled off and got many soldiers drawn away from the ladder landings.

    The legend Tanef was making herself was in the making now and many more stories of her heroism will come in the future.