above: "The Surrounding of The Discordians", done by a chronicler in ink and paper nearly three hundred years after the original battle.
A second volley of arrows struck home as well, mostly glancing off armor at the extreme bow range. Several of the Discordians staggered backwards from the blunt smack of the arrow. And still they ran on, towards the Loyalist line.
"Save your arrows! Use them only at close range, but keep them nocked!" The Loyalist with the war axe walked up and down the back of his lines, shouting out his orders. "And when those black-armored bastards arrive," He raised a horn. "I will blow with this here horn, three short blasts! These three short blasts will bring in for them a nasty surprise!" He grinned. "Now nock your arrows, you damned longbowcolts, they're closing in fast!"
True enough, the Discordians had slung and sheathed their weapons, and were galloping toward the Loyalist line at the fastest speed they could muster. And these were trained stallions. Their black plate glinted quickly in the light of the torches as they bobbed up and down, kicking up dust and closing the distance quickly. The clatter of arrows ensured that the Loyalists were prepared.
"Any moment now." Grey turned back and muttered.
The archers visibly straightened, ready to draw, and then flinched as three deafening, deep, short blasts penetrated the chilling night air.
Rye turned, looking as a mass of grey mail and gilded armor leapt and clambered over the walls of the encampment, the mass drew weapons - battleaxes, spears, hunting bows and flails and maces, a vast variety of killing tools, and rushed with great fervour and a mighty yell that intensified as steel, iron, lead and wood clashed in a cacophony in clangs and thuds and splinters. The Discordians, visibly surprised, recovered with haste and retaliated.
"Go, go, go!" Grey yelled, waving his sword in the air. "Now, strike again!"
And, with great pride and ferocity, went forth the Loyalists.
Rye stepped forward, bringing his bow to the full draw and loosed, sending a bodkin skewering into the elbow of a Discordian. He bellowed in pain, but was silenced as one of the mysterious allies drove a mallet into his helmeted skull. Matted fur and brain matter exploded everywhere. The other archers drew too, and loosed at close range with vicious speed and efficiency, sending their arrows spearing into torsos, limbs and even the eye slits of Discordian barbutes and hounskulls. By the time the Loyalist infantry too, piled into the melee alongside the archers, it was clear the Discordians were surrounded.
above: "The Surrounding of The Discordians", done by a chronicler in ink and paper nearly three hundred years after the original battle.
"You'll make a fine rug, bastard!" One of the allies snarled, as he thrust his bearded head into the barbute of a Discordian helmet, stunning the warrior. The mailed fighter then shoved his adversary back, and plunged a sword into the badly dented helmet, the muscles in his exposed sword limb twisting and flexing as he yanked the bloodied sword out and kicked the dead Discordian out of his way. Rye managed to tear his gaze from the fighter and concentrated on emptying his quiver upon the hapless Discordians who had scarce space to even swing their weapons. There were less than thirty of them now, fighting to their deaths as the Loyalists and their skilled allies pressed even further inwards, surrounding them in lines up to ten stallions thick. The pool of defiant guards were lacerated, shredded to ribbons as they shrunk inwards from the victorious Loyalists. As the last adversary fell, a jagged fork of lightning ripped its blinding way through the pitch black of the night sky, and with the clap of thunder that followed, a deep. mighty bellowing voice shouted -
"Ponies," The voice reverberated through the air, rumbling through the ground and all the way up into the hearts of the victors. "In a bloody battle, you have slain those of your kind, and through this screen of blood and fighting, I have seen a need to aid you. Come seek me out, near the Tree of Life." A second clap of thunder signalled its departure.