The Battle of Bindier

The writing of this short story is not done to portray the heroic or tragic events of any character or NPC, but to describe the outcome of the Battle of Bindier that takes place in the year of 1582 HC during the month of Deismir, while the advancing armies of Boeruine are clearing all the way towards the Imperial city, conquering anything in their way. The result of this battle was not randomly dictated but rather it was played out in the war card system found in our WAR rulebook. For history records the naval battle was won by the Avanese and the Avanese army landed to support the besieged town but in the land battle .........

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With the Boeruinean land army having cut off the supply lines coming from Stormpoint, Bindier the capital of the Nation of Brosengae which recently merged with the new Imperial Coalition is cut off from military and economical support. The sole remaining nation of the Imperial Coalition in Western Anuire is facing the be-siegeing armies of the Archduke Edric Boeruine. The Imperial Coalition navy, the largest sailing fleet of Anuire, will try to reach the port of Bindier and unload a huge military force that will counter the assaulting Archduke. Prince Darien Avan the II, Admiral of the Imperial Navy at his 16 birthday is renowned for his training and naval capabilities. His task was to land army units to the besieged port in order to stop the progress of his ancestral enemy and propably defeat him in battle in order to revenge the death of his sister in the hands of the Boeruinean line.

The Boeruinean fleet outnumbered and less organized main goal is to sink or capture the ships that are transpoting the land army, this would be a difficult task since the Avanese  protected the transports with strong Galleons. Prince's Pride is the Flagship of the Avanese while the renowed Executor lead the assault from the Boeruinean side.

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They say the calm before the storm was the most dangerous silence one could ever face.
Whoever said that had never faced the moment of silence before a war.
"This is it!" Came the strong voice of the Boeruinean general. He and his army stood at the front of the lines. Behind them all of the expendition army was  poised and ready for combat, staring at the enemy that stood just in front of the valley.
It was not creatures of darkness or Rhuobe's elves, but the Avanese. Tired of being pushed around by the new so called Emperor, they decided to sever themselves from it and form a new one. They were closing in to take the throne, to taking over Anuire. The would never bow their heads to those traders and diplomats, they knew they had the fame of cruel dictators. Emperor Kendar Kalien was nothing more than an imposter, he had no tie to the Imperial line, he had just bought his way to the throne, the agitators proclaimed, filling the hearts of the soldiers with ire and God divine hatred, it was a bloodlines right to sit on the Iron Throne.
The only thing that is in their way now is those who defend the false line on the Throne.
Tension rolled over the armies and the slight shifting of metal armor and weapons soon died down to an unearthly silence. It was a moment of silence for those who were going to die, for the honor that would be lost, for the change that would inevitably come.
The silence only lasted for less than a minute, but it felt like hours had passed. One by one, tightened their grip on their weapons and prepared themselves for anything and everything. Both men and women who were trained enough were ready for combat, this was a battle that would open the path to the city that held their dream. On the hills overlooking the southern port City of the West Coast, Bindier the armies of Archduke Edric Boeruine I, layed siege on the westernmost coalition port. Winning this was crucial, winter was closing in and no army could march over the Seamist mountain paths over the snow. They needed to win this battle, it was the first of the greatest wins to mark this campaign.
"Now!" that single word screamed by a Boeruinean was all it took to unleash hell upon the land. A battle cry came from each warriors lips as they rushed forward to their opponents. Soon the human screaming was drowned out by the sound of metal meeting metal. The once green grass was trampled and stained with blood within minutes. Bodies fell as swords and spears pierced through armor and flesh.


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 *Somewhere in the plains, after the Battle of Bindier…*

The man stood on a rocky hillock on the edge of the plain, studying the silent battlefield with a practiced eye. The Avanese detachment had apparently made it halfway across before being engaged by Boeruinean forces. In spite of being outnumbered, the Avanese had not only maintained their cohesion but had managed to fight their way towards a ridge that ran through the center of the plain, using it to shore up one of their flanks. He shook his head sadly, the hair of his topknot dancing in the fetid air. It had only delayed the inevitable, but it was still an impressive feat. Whoever the unknown commander had been, his death was a great loss to the Avanese.

He studied the battlefield for a few more moments and then slowly headed for the area where most of the Avanese had fallen. Moving among the dead, he began to plan what he was going to do. A moment later a motion caught his eye. Investigating, he discovered a hand feebly trying to push away from the pile of dead. He hauled the dead off to the side and discovered that the hand was attached to a young Knight, clad in Avanese colours, he looked fairly battered, but still very much alive. He was elated. Truly the gods favored him! Taking a cloth from his pouch and some of the warrior’s water, he began to clean the blood and filth off of his kinsman’s face. As he did so the man stirred and his eyes flickered open.

“What?” the young knight mumbled.

“It is all right,” he reassured him. “The battle is over, and you are safe.”

Slowly the man pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked around the battlefield with wide and horrified eyes. “Dead. Everyone is dead. Is...is the Prince safe?.” and by saying that he looked at the fallen standard of the Purple Dragon.

“I am afraid he is not,” was heard with genuine sorrow. “A great tragedy for our house.”