Ely edit 27 Jul 2021:
1-6 qps, depending on length and quality.
Potential +1 qp: if part of a series: o/x
Total: 2 qps
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Lheorik Grayson sat by the fire, a steaming bowl of rabbit stew in his hands. He cupped the bowl and closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth seeping into his frozen fingers.
“Bloody rabbit again! If I never had to eat rabbit again I could die a happy man.” Jinro grumbled.
Lheorik straightened, opening his eyes and taking in his dinner companions. Several soldiers were gathered around the fire in varying degrees of armor. Some had removed their helmets or gauntlets, a few their breastplates, but every man wore a sword. This close to the Blight, no Borderland soldier would leave his blade out of hands reach.
Spooning up a mouthful of rabbit, Lheorik nodded to Jinro. The stew was hot and fatty, and he was starving; he wouldn’t have cared if it was rat.
“Suppose you’ll be done with this slop soon. How many days you have left, rancher?” Jinro asked.
“Yesterday completed my enlistment, and I’m not a rancher till I own a ranch.”
Jinro sighed, “See, your service ‘s up and you’re still freezing your balls off, choking down rabbit slop with the rest of us. My advice? Run rancher, while you have your chance.”
“Three days to Canluum. I’ll take my leave there.” Lheorik said around another spoonful of hot stew.
“Lucky bastard. If I know anything, I know the Red Horse won’t be done with Jinro till his blood soaks the soil.”
Lheorik shook his head, “Always so dramatic. I’ll mock you for that, over some strong ale when you come visit me.”
“That sounds good rancher… Maybe you’ve the right of it. I didn’t see myself lasting this long.” Jinro stared into his stew, “…and you, I thought you’d of fallen off that horse and broke your neck before the first skirmish!”
Lheorik threw his empty bowl at his companion, “Ah yes! I’m the one who couldn’t ride for dung when we set off, now I remember.”
“I’ll miss you Lheorik, the Red Horse is losing a good man, but light is it good to see the Mother have to wait to welcome one home for a change.”
Lheorik pulled on his gauntlets, for what little warmth they provided. “I’ll miss you too Jin, but don’t forget that offer of ale, I mean to see you again.”
A horn blasted from the north, three short bursts. Lheorik drew his blade in near unison with every man there. Trollocs.
“To mounts, you flaming goat-sons!” A stout lieutenant shouted as he galloped by the fire.
Lheorik sprinted for the hitching posts where he’d tied his horse, Jinro keeping pace close behind him. They cut the ropes and flew into their saddles, spurring the animals north toward a clamor of steel and screaming.
Leaning low on the back of his mount, Lheorik galloped through the camp, weaving though soldiers, tents and cook-fires. Ahead, a mob of trollocs and Borderlanders collided. Men and beasts howling in kind as they fell clutching wounds or missing limbs.
Lheorik picked a group of densely packed shadowspawn and charged. “For Kandor!” His sword struck, sending a spray of blood into the air behind him. His horse trampling another beast, iron-clad hooves crushing its muzzled face. He brought his swing around to the other side, connecting to produce another fan of red mist before he broke through the other side.
He kept his mount in a gallop, pulling hard to bring it around for another pass. The trollocs had turned and were leveling spears and catchpoles, preparing for his next charge.
“For Kandor!” Jinro bellowed as he rode up their backs. The trollocs shoved and collided with one another, unsure which direction to defend. Jinro stampeded through their center as Lheorik’s second charge connected, smashing into the confused mass.
The shadowspawn broke, screaming in terror as they shoved and trampled one another, trying to escape the flashing steel and crushing hooves of the mounted Borderguards.
Jinro raised his red stained blade “For Kandor!” An arrow punched through his neck before he’d closed his mouth.
He gave a confused look to Lheorik as his free hand raised to his neck, feeling the arrow. Blood flowed from his mouth, and a stain began spreading across his tunic as he toppled from his horse.
Shock was quickly interrupted as an arrow struck the left shoulder of Lheorik’s mount, the horse screamed as it reared up onto its hind legs. Lheorik dropped himself to the steed’s opposite flank as another whistled by above him. He felt dull thumps as more arrows peppered the animals exposed side.
The horse bucked, lashing out against the pain as it collapsed. The ground raced up to meet Lheorik as he was crushed beneath the massive animal and the cold dirt.
***
Lheorik groaned against the throbbing pain spreading from his head down to his right leg. He rubbed at his eyes, breaking away the crust of mud and blood sealing them shut. A dead trolloc lay directly in front of him, snarling face frozen in a rictus of pain. He tried to push away but felt the heavy weight of another corpse against his back.
Looking down to his aching leg, he saw he was pinned beneath his massive warhorse. He coughed, spraying droplets of blood across the dirt. Shaking his head, he grabbed and pulled at his leg, resulting in a spasm of fire. The armored horse had to weigh nearly two tons. He was stuck.
Lheorik twisted to examine the body behind him. A dead Kandori solider, still clutching a great claymore. He pried the fingers of the corpse open and pulled the sword away. Groaning, he shoved the sword below the horse’s body. A trollocs catchpole was lying near his head, he grabbed it and slide it beneath the sword, allowing for what leverage it could provide.
He torqued on the claymore and pushed against the animal's back with his free leg, another blaze of pain shot through him, but the leg moved. He lay a moment catching his breath and waiting for the ache to subside before trying again. Slowing and painfully he inched out from under the dead mount.
Once free, he propped himself up with the claymore, favoring his injured leg. All around him, carnage. The mangled bodies of Borderguard, horses and shadowspawn covered the ground in a thick blanket. A heavy layer of smoke laid across the open field, the army’s campsite a smoldering ruin.
Picking his way through the massacre, Lheorik stumbled across the bodies while seeking places to step that didn’t shift and move beneath him. He made his way to where Jinro had fallen, and found his friend staring lifelessly to the grey skies above.
“Guess that ale is going to have to wait friend.” He crouched and pulled free Jinro’s cloak-clasp, a red-metal rearing horse. “May you shelter in the palm of the Creator’s hand, Jinro.” Lheorik swallowed and wiped away the sting of tears he felt welling behind his eyes.
He continued through the battlefield, making his way for his commander’s tent. Commander Rodril would know what to do next. Hayden Rodril always knew what to do next. The man was a legend among the Kandori Red Horse. He had a sixth sense for tactical decisions, acting on his intuitions without hesitation, and had brought his men through countless campaigns that would have been lost under even the most seasoned commanders.
Holding to that thought, he picked his way through the trampled and burned site, knowing deep down that he wouldn’t find the legendary commander in this carnage. At least not in a state to give orders. Approaching the command tent he could see a circle of dead guards and trollocs, the banner of Kandor still standing within it, snapping in the wind. Rodril lay beneath the banner, an array of blades and spears pinning his corpse to the ground.
His last hopes dashed, he looked out across the horizon. Canluum was three days ride east, on foot he might reach it in a couple of weeks. He knelt and removed the Commander’s signet ring and rank insignias. Something for his Queen and family. Standing, he repeat the Borderguard’s final words. He wouldn’t have time to bury his comrades but hoped they would understand.
Lheorik set out from the carnage with a small pack of scavenged supplies and his sword, leaving behind his heavy armor and the remains of the men he had called brothers for the last six years.