[hider=A meeting in the desert] Peering over the honestly arid wasteland in front of them from a cliff, two corpsmen from the Steel Fist gazed upon the field below. They were part of Claus so called scout corps and were used to scout ahead and report back to the steelhead. Right now they were taking a break and eating some jerky when their quarry was spotted. Earlier, they had spotted riders, but not just any riders, Seikatsu riders. They weren't sure if they had been spotted themselves but they had returned to the main force and reported. This had intrigued Claus, he didn’t really know why there would be Seikatsu riders in the deserts, but he’d heard of the Grim company and his curiosity had been sparked. This time, the two had been sent out to try and contact them. Johan scurried up, with jerky filling his mouth he raised a makeshift “flag”, a stick with a mostly white sock attached to it. He stood up clearly and raised his banner high and waved in large motions, he was sure the riders would soon spot him. Cautiously they closed, ready to attack with their readied spears, but both sides realized that this was only a scout team from each side. When the rider was way within shouting distance, he lowered his flag and held up a letter. ”It’s an offer of parley. For your leader.” Johan said clearly, offering the letter to the rider. The Ishido eyed the Formarothian carefully before riding forward, his companion remaining several yards away with an arrow laid across his bow. A scarred hand was held out, the fingers closing around the letter. Ishido’s gaze never left Johans as the letter vanished, getting tucked beneath the samurais chest plate. He nodded at Johan and then turned and the two spurred away out into the desert, vanishing over the rise and into the darkness. * * * * * Tokugawa Ieasu turned the letter over in his hands, a messy but official looking wax seal on it. The paper was local, the writing messy, typical of what he had come to expect from Formarothians. He drew out a wickedly sharp knife from his waist regraded the seal for a moment. He recognized it as the new Imperial seal. Pondered for a moment and then swiftly slit the paper and drew out the document. The writing was atrocious and it took him some time to figure out exactly what it said. At length he managed to decipher the writing. “What does it say?” Lady Grim was sitting nearby, her feet up on a small futon, sipping green tea from a scalding hot mug, despite the evening desert heat. “It seems that Claus, the man of the Steel Fist, is writing to you to discuss your motivations. He wishes to move an army through this area. He has had he would like to meet you, alone, five miles south of here. At the rock that looks like an Otters tail at midnight.” She nodded. She knew the stone well. It was easy for anyone standing beside it to see the entire desert around. You couldn’t sneak up on a person there. “I will go.” Tokugawa simply nodded. Arguing with her would be pointless. They would be able to keep a band of cavalry out of sight a mile or so away. Not that it would matter, Lady Grim was more than a match for any individual man. It was twenty minutes later that Lady Grim and her escort thundered out of camp and into the desert. * * * * * Lady Grim knelt next to a small blaze set at the base of the Otter tail stone. She gazed into the flames, her magic flaring out around her, pulsing across the desert like a heartbeat. Sand trickled slowly between her fingers as she took up fistfuls and poured them from one hand to the other. Her escort waited out in the desert, well clear of the meeting place, as she waited for the Steel Fist. Having only a small clue who to expect, Claus closed in on the Otter tail stone, something one of the guys had said was a landmark, it sure was a landmark, and the namesake was apt since one could easily see the smooth slightly curved spike rising into the starlit sky. One could make out a small fire beneath the thing and some distance away a small bodyguard unit of samurai was seen. It was only Claus, Harper and Goyle who had closed with the place and he had them wait roughly the same distance away from the stone as the samurai, albeit from a different angle. After making his way up a winding stone path, composed of a sort of natural staircase he eventually entered the globe of light that was the firelight illuminating its surroundings, seeing a woman beside it, very good looking, gorgeous even with her striking red hair. He noticed her pouring sand in between her hands. ”You doing some sort of prayer?” He said as he chose a comfy spot, standing with his hands on his hips in a laid back style, even stretching his back a little. Rhaetia regarded the Formarothian as he struck what he probably thought was some sort of heroic pose. She stood now, letting the sand fall from her hand, until she was eye to eye with him. “The famous Claus of the Iron Fist. I am honoured.” There was a hint of sarcasm in her tone but she was intrigued nonetheless. “What can I do for you?” He was going to correct her on the name but decided against it, he sighed and gave up for a second before reinvigorating himself and replying. “The infamous lady Grim I assume? We meet at last. Never had the pleasure before.” He hadn’t made the connections before, but then again the Grim company wasn’t usually seen outside Seikatsu either. “What you can do is tell me what you’re doing here?” “Waiting for you.” Her comment was flat and conveyed a promise of violence. Claus noticed the hint of aggravation, this was no ordinary lass, something was off. “I’m here on orders of the Concord to mop up heretics, help solve the churches mess.” He was working on figuring out the odd woman in front of him, licking his teeth under his lips. “The church!” Her laugh was almost a bark. “A mess of lies and treachery in its own right. Well, my armoured acquaintance, it seems the heretics are not so keen on being mopped up, which means we will have to fight.” “So you’re working with the heretics? That’s unfortunate. Wouldn’t want to face the Grim company in combat after the stories….” He stroked his chin for a while, then got his most devious face and a shit-eating grin when he looked up at Grim. * * * * * [hider=A battle between legends] The morning was still cool and crisp, the sun not yet above the skyline, when the Steel Fist along with the concord forces crested a small ridgeline and looked down into the long valley that ran north to south, their road into the heartland of the enemy. They were greeted by a roar of noise as the heretics danced and waved their weapons in the air. Trenches had been dug and sharpened stakes planted all along their land that marked the very edge of the green scrub grass. Behind them the oasis was dark against the white sand of the desert dunes but only a fool would miss the massed companies of the Grim Company, their trademark silence somehow made all the more menacing and unsettling then their horde of savage screaming allies. The stark contrast between the parts of the Concord force was immense, the majority who were militia was sloppy and ragtag at best, formed into some semblance of formations on each side of the vanguard, the Steel Fist. Flanking them were the beautiful formation of knights, while few compared to the numbers of the Grim cavalry they certainly wore better armour and seemed more drilled. In reserve was the armsmen of Orog, their green uniforms vibrant in the matte landscape. The sloppy walking of the militia was in stark contrast to the perfectly synchronized march of the Steel Fist, their footfalls in unison and black banners held high. Behind them the crossbowmen and mage support set up their pavises overlooking the regular corpsmen since they deployed in a downward slope. With a synched footfall and a shout the Steel Fist came to a halt, the rest more meandered close to where they would hold positions before the battle. So far both forces stood outside effective archery range, simply studying the other. The tension was in the air and sobs could be heard from the Telmarian militia upon seeing the arrayed banners of the Grim company. The thought of having to fight the force which most of them just know realized had more samurai than they had militia. Arrayed before the Concord, the Grim company and their tribal allies numbered nearly five and a half thousand men, with the primary force consisting of the Grim company itself. A silence fell across the battleground. For the spear wielding mob the sight of their enemy was too much. As soon as the Concord Forces halted their advance, the tribesmen gave a wild yell and surged across the open ground toward the still deploying enemy force. They were a fearsome sight indeed, these warriors of the desert, fueled by liquor and the strange mushrooms that grew only in the deepest shadows of the high dunes. They were infamous for their ignorance to pain and fear. The same could not be said for their enemies. Almost giving into panic, the militia stood firm only because of their allies nearby and their sergeants telling them to hold firm. A single barrage from the Steel Fist crossbowmen was all that could be mustered before they hit home, bolts raining into the poorly armoured warriors, whom surprisingly took few casualties as they kept charging, some with several crossbow bolts deep in their flesh. The mage support preparing wards and shields to protect from the soon to come missile and magic barrage that the Grim company was expected to let loose, since almost half their numbers wielded the Seikatsu longbows. The tribesmen smashed into the Concord Militia with a wet thud of meat and steel, a sharp contrast to the often heard bards tales of clashing steel and shining chivalry. Driven by their “divine spirit”, the tribesmen wreaked havoc on their more heavily armed foes as they ignored the steel that gouged at their flesh, in some cases dragging men down to tear at their throats with bare teeth. Claus let loose a horncall, the signal for the battlemages to prepare a fireball, five of them formed a circle and began to form it, half a minute it was channeled in mid air and then cast into the line of the raged tribesmen, rolling along their battleline setting dozens aflame and drenching the frontline in a horrid smell of burnt flesh and fat. The screams were drowned out by the horn of the Steel Fist, signalling a complex mix of calls. With effortless ease, the Steel Fist began to envelop the tribesmen from one side, as the heavy cavalry flanked in from the other and sprang a mighty charge. The carnage was immense. Roughly a thousand, the tribals stood no chance against the combined might of the Concord, especially without magical support and they were cut down to a man. Several calls were made and the Concord army reformed, ready to face the Grim company proper, the smoke from the fires settled, revealing…… the long valley below, a few sad looking trees, sandy soil, and not a banner in sight, it was as if the Grim company had vanished in the smoke. ”Stay firm! They could be anywhere!” Claus boomed out, reassuring his men and preparing for the worst. Silence was the only answer, a few cries of wounded men the only sound in the valley as vultures began to soar above. [/hider] [/hider] Collab done with [@The Wyrm] & [@Klomster]