The day turned out to be one in which nature decided to do precisely the opposite to would fit the occasion. It has been warm and sunny since morning, with little cloud cover. A slight breeze had been rustling the trees since morning, other than that, the woods were positively teeming with activity, life, and positive vibration inside and below the intensely green canopy of leaves.
Which was unlike what was happening in the camp.
In the morning Hanne’s men went out to perform their assigned duties patrolling, hunting, or camp work. Only the cook and suspiciously Nord-looking blacksmith remained. They busied themselves with preparing food, water, and other supplies, and repairing clothes and weapons. Hanne assigned two extra men to help them, but regardless, there was enough work for each one and then some. Having witnessed the commotion Anh made himself sparse. He spent his time rummaging the camp’s perimeter ‘doing research’, and visited the camp briefly, to look after his patients.
Tensions in the camp grew as wildmen returned for the afternoon feast. Unlike previous days, there was very little joyful socializing, sipping thin ale, or smoking of leaf. Everyone busied themselves with checking their weapons and equipment, for the umpteenth time, fencing imaginary opponents, and being very solemn.
-” I thought this was going to be a quick skirmish.” - mused Anh in the direction of Brandt when the raiding party was almost done with the gathering and about to leave - “Yet they seem to be carrying quite some things. Did I see a stretcher? How did they even get one?”
-” War, Mr. Trawins, is an art of logistics, first and foremost. Those who prepare best, tend to be the ones winning.”- shrugged Nord -” As I told you yesterday, these men were taught well how to wage one.”
-” Since we are on the subject of being prepared.” - Anh was still eying the warriors around him - ”What were you doing for the last few days?”
-” Spying.” - came the quick response.
-” So what did you spy out?” - Anh was getting impatient, like a child before a fair - “Tell me!”
-” You’ll see in due time.”
-” Aren’t the Ordos going to expect us? You aren’t just going to rush into the camp, are you?”
-” So far, they are either unaware or are ignoring Hanne’s presence.”
-” So you are just going to rush in?”
-” No.” - Brandt chuckled - ”We are going to assume that they know everything, are acutely aware of our presence, and are armed to the teeth and waiting.”
-” But you just said…”
-” I also said.” - Nord didn’t allow the tanai to finish - “that war is an art of logistics, which includes preparedness.”
Anh fell silent. Brandt diverted his attention towards his newly found and quite unexpected, allies. He made a quick visual assessment of their battleworthiness, as he has done so numerous times already.
-” So what is your plan” - Anh once again broke the silence - “I assume you have one, you always have one...” - he added somewhat unsurely.
-” I am going to, with two archers, sneak on top of the structures around their camp, locate the seer, and take them out. Once done, I’ll signal the rest to follow us into the Dlooa proper and take Ordos out. If all goes well, there will be little fighting.”
-” If things go badly, you are going to improvise?”
-” Yes”
The tanai wanted to reply but was interrupted by Strettar, who just came by and stole Brandt’s attention.
-” We are ready.” - said the elder.
-” Let’s head out then.” - nodded the Nord. He quickly and once again, checked if his gear was in order then turned toward Anh - “It’s time.”
The march toward the compound was quite slow. The group was sizeable, encumbered more than the usual patrol parties and the night was slowly taking its toll on its pace. Brandt estimated that it took them over three candles to reach Dlooa. Shortly before they met a group of scouts who completed their party. After distributing everyone with their assigned equipment, and blackening exposed skin, where possible, with lard and ash, wildmen divided themselves into five groups, about three men each. Three of these, including one with Hanne, dispersed into the forest after a short deliberation. Strettar, Gustaf, Anh, Brandt, and two bow-wielding warriors introduced as Jorun and Dane were all who remained.
-” Mr Trawins. Your task is to stay here with Gustaf and Strettar and once we’re done, approach the compound and help the wounded.” - Brandt pointed at two substantial sacks laid nearby on a hastily made stretcher -” we have prepared water, cloth, and knives, just about anything that might be needed. Even string and needles, should you need to sew people. As you already saw, we have something to carry the grievously wounded back to the camp, should that be necessary.”
Anh nodded, slowly, probably after having realized the severity of the situation he found himself in.
-” Litte wy gean. Jo kenne it plan.” - Brandt said to his appointed companions. Both of them nodded in confirmation. After confirming that everything was going according to the plan he, Hanne, and Strettar were carefully crafting for the last two days. Brandt began to creep through the open plains towards their goal.
The flickering glow of a bonfire lit the walls of the compound’s buildings. One that must have been quite significant, if one judged by the intensity of the light. It was obscured to a degree by objects invisible from Brandt’s vantage, that cast long rectangular shadows.
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Zoon provided a little illumination. The major of the two moons was already well advanced in its ascending quarter. The lesser one, Dux never added more than the blue tint, even if, like on this night, when full. Brandt went forward slowly, peeking for any activity from within, regardless if it was a guard on one of the roofs or someone taking a piss.
It took a long triskol, but he and his companions reached the wall of one of the buildings. Undisturbed. They clung to the wall and slowly crept along it, toward the roof access ladder. Brandt remembered it being a few steps away from where they just landed. Except it was just an earshot and probably an eyeshot away from their foes. It was behind a corner, on a wall between two buildings.
At the corner, Brand took a peek behind to see where his wildmen companions were. His nerves calmed a little when he saw them nearby. Then he took an equally quick peek behind the corner and cursed inaudibly.
The ladder was precisely where he last saw it, about ten mers from him, maybe less. But as he saw behind the corner, he heard the quiet singing and sounds of commotion from the ordo camp, previously muffled by the thick walls of the compound.
-* Should have expected them being still up* - he quickly reprimanded himself -*It is quite early*.
He kept peeking for a couple more drips and finally decided to sneak toward the ladder. He nodded at his companions and quickly, with a racing heart, headed toward it and grabbed it as soon as possible. The rusted metal creaked and shook a little as he did. Small grains of dust and debris fell from where the ladder was mounted to the wall.
He ascended the ladder.
He carefully poked his head over the roofline, looking for signs of a guard on any of the buildings. He found none.
-* They really didn’t expect anyone to bother them* - Brandt mused - *Very careless*
The glass fixtures on the roof were very similar to those witnessed before. Now they resembled a black rectangle propped on a tubular trunk and provided even more shade to hide in. Brandt stepped over the ledge and snook under them. The archers followed and soon joined. He then decided to head toward the ledge of the building which would give him an overlook on the ordos below. Once there, he carefully peeked out.
The building he was on was one the templar had chosen as their main base. The fire was set up before the entrance, ten to maybe fifteen mers before it. It was indeed significant. The templar must have finished their meal for the day. A reminder of a roast was thrown by the wayside, next to a pile of deer bones and fur. The men were sitting around it, in various poses. Three were playing cards, one was plucking his Paaronian lute, sometimes producing a few chords resembling a melody.
The objects which cast the looming shadows that helped his sneaking just drips before turned out to be cabinets of sorts, about two and a half mers tall and about one in width and depth. The templar must have dragged them from within the building, as made evident by long scratches on the black surface of the central square. Their target, the seer, was tinkering with the inside of one of these obelisks in a glow of lumehex and seemed completely disinterested in what their companions were doing. Brandt decided to move back.
-” Wy wachtsje.” - he said to the archers, blessing that he made Strettar teach him a few crucial utterances in the wildmen language. Like the one he just said, informing his companions that they needed to wait. Both until the templar went to rest, and for other wildmen to assume their positions around the compound. All was going according to plan.
Waiting, especially on this dark, warm night, near a hostile encampment, had the side effect of giving lots of time to devise ways in which the entire escapade could end in a disaster. He was an outsider trying to gain the trust of a people who had no reason to give any. When he presented his plan, some of the wildmen protested this ‘ambush and eliminate’ tactic he devised, seeing it as dishonorable. It took Strettar’s and Hanne’s intervention to convince them. But were they really convinced?
After a few triskols, to keep these thoughts at bay, Brandt decided to occupy his mind with observing what was happening in the Ordo camp.
The tanai seer was busying themselves with the apparatus around. They would float towards one, do things, make notes, hum to themselves, and then move towards another. In the process, they would ignore just about anyone around. In that aspect, he seemed very much like Anh. Besides, there wasn’t much to pay attention to. Those who played cards continued to do so, those who were talking, were doing so about some inane things. Mostly about the weather and the place they were in. Although their banter did reveal them being from the port city of Damar and for the most part, actually enjoyed the chase after the fugitives, as it was a change of pace from wasting away near Katzburg and drinking boredom away.
The men were, one by one, returning to the building and after what seemed to be at least a candle with a halfer, when judged by how far Dux had come in the sky. Who remained were the tanai and a short, balding forty-something who didn’t even look like a combatant of any kind. Those two began discussing something over one of the artifacts for quite some time. At one moment, the hoomin returned to the fire and sat beside it. Then reached to a satchel, grabbed a book out, flipped a few pages, and started to read.
Brandt waited a few drips, wanting to ensure that the seer was not going to move from their location. Then the nord gestured at his companions. They snuck towards him.
-” Slanke man, now.” - whispered Brandt.
At first, there was an eerie silence, when the men drew their bows and aimed. Then it was the noise of two strings released in unison. Then two arrows flew towards the unsuspecting tanai.
They were not far away, maybe twenty, maybe twenty-five mers. In the dark, it was difficult to say how much carnage these arrows caused. Certainly, however, the seer was wounded. They screamed briefly, then collapsed to the ground. This marked the moment to signal the Hanne’s warriors to storm the compound. Brandt sighed, closed his eyes, concentrated, and invoked one of the few hexergic tricks he cared enough about over the years to learn. He raised his left hand into the air. A few drips later the air around his clenched fist fizzled and the metallic scent filled the air. Suddenly bright lightning shot into the skies twenty, maybe thirty mers up, and a loud boom echoed around. Once done, he opened his eyes only to meet the astounded gazes of the archers.
Now came the time to invoke another of the few hexergic tricks he cared to learn. He was to become the proverbial ‘tip of the spear’ of this assault. One who would draw the attention of the Ordos for the precious few drips. Enough for his allies to join and archers to land a few shots of opportunity.
He chose a spot on one of the cabinets nearby, drew his sword, went over the edge, and plunged several mers down, having only weak kinehexergy to help his fall. In the meantime, the templar camp went on full alert. The man who just a moment before was reading a book, screamed into the compound. Not a dozen drips later, the seasoned Sorresian mariners poured outside, half with a firearm in one hand and a sword in the other. Ready to face whatever or whomever they were supposed to. Brandt chose the few closest to him and charged from a direction they would find most awkward to defend. They noticed him, one raised his pistol, and two rushed with their weapons ready. At the same moment three groups of wildmen, wailing a battle cry, poured out from the shadows from different directions.