The Report of Our Men at War
Scribed in 1335
The four men led by Maynard went to Lydney and waited a few days for the rest of the levy to be mustered, then caught barges down the river to meet the ships at Chepstow.
Jobs were quickly divided up, and one of our men worked in the galley as a cook. He made sure he tasted all the food and never went hungry. Another of our men was an accomplished sailor and was on the decks most of the time. The other two were down in the bilges and suffered from the smell of vomit and bilges from too many men cramped into too small spaces. Some men died on the short journey, and their corpses were disposed of over the side with little ceremony.
Their leader was Sergeant Thomas, and Maynard recognised him, he thought, from a previous campaign. They disembarked in Calais and walked through the streets and then through the gate to the main encampment. Wounded men were waiting to return to England; a lot of the men here were hungry and ill. They ended up outside the city in an encampment, and nothing happened for a couple of weeks, apart from more men coming into the encampment from all over the country. Maynard was promoted to Corporal due to his previous battle experience, and he was warned of the consequences of ill discipline; however, he was rewarded with better rations and a bed to himself.
The wait was boring, so there was a lot of make-work. This kept the men busy, as idle hands make the devil's work. The long wait also allowed the weaker men there to succumb to evil humours, and some did die. Eventually, the trumpets sounded, and the men started marching under the banner of the Earl of Gloucester. The rains came down, and some of the men slept in the mud; ours were luckier in that they had bedrolls and a tarp to protect them. One of the men knew a few words in French and taught some swear words to the rest, making him quite popular.
The men arrived at a huge encampment of troops and were led to the southern flank of the main English army to camp. Again, the waiting began, and the Corporal put men on picket duty to keep them busy. A few days later, the army started to move out and eventually came to a hill where they made camp.
Across the boggy valley, the French army stood on the opposite hill. Our men were on the frontline and raised their shields in a clumsy shield wall. The wait seemed endless, and the rain poured down on their helmets. Heralds from both sides met and discussed some matters, but then withdrew. The Light troops were sent in first to absorb some arrows, cheap expendable troops, which included our contingent. The French side looked much bigger than the English forces. The initial shots came from the Welsh longbowmen behind our men, but soon the French crossbowmen found their range, and the bolts started to fall. Luckily, our men kept their shields high and were protected, but those without protection suffered under the hail of steel. The men reached the bottom of the hill and stopped to form a line. This gave time for more arrows to hit, and they took their toll. The French jeers drifted over from their lines, and our English ones were shouted back. More arrows and more death happened in that boggy valley, and then the call went out to charge.
Some of the men found running through the inches of mud hard, but eventually, the forces clashed. It was a mad melee, and many men died in the thick mud. Our men seemed to be fighting the French levy, and against them our trained grogs went through them like a hot knife through butter. The French heavy infantry were then sent in, and our men survived the first impact but were then pressed heavily by them until they were relieved by the English Heavy infantry. With that, our men filtered to the rear lines to regroup and recover. One of our men was badly wounded and was dragged back through the mud to a healing station where some monks were administering some primitive chirurgy. The rest of the battle seemed just to fizzle out, neither a great victory nor a great loss; the men withdrew to their relative hills, leaving the valley of carnage below them. The Captain of our regiment came to Corporal Maynard and asked for the report of our losses. He was told he was being promoted to Sergeant due to losses in the battle.
A sort of temporary peace was called as corpses were collected, and then the French army withdrew, and the English military marched towards the coast.
Our men were sent on a food-gathering mission for the troops and managed to find a village and extracted a lot of food, although two lads from Lydney were almost caught looting, which was punishable by death.
They then formed a camp around a small walled port. A wasting disease ran rife through the besieging force; our men were not killed by the flux, but many others were. Three weeks passed with the men slowly succumbing to the pox. Ours luckily survived this blight and spent a few weeks recovering. The call to break camp came, and the men moved forward to the front lines. They saw the huge walls of the city and the mud and blood in the ground between them and the base of the walls. Hunger was their constant companion, and they wondered who it was worse for, the people in the city or them outside. There was a ripple of excitement as some of the walls of the city collapsed, and the men of the Earl of Gloucester were informed they would have the honour of leading the charge against the breach. The next morning, the men moved out, and as before, they were pelted on the approach by bolts and arrows. Because of the mud, arrows and poor leadership, the men arrived at the breach in disorder and, as they leapt into the gap, were met by heavy foot with shields. The crush was horrendous, and the men tried mightily to break the defenders. Blows were traded, and men fell on both sides. Eventually, Sergeant Maynard was felled unconscious, and he fell at the feet of the French heavy infantry. His chances looked very poor, but then a surge from the English stepped over him, and he lay a few ranks back. One of our men left his post and carried the sergeant back to a medic station. He was challenged on the way back by a corporal, but ignored him to ensure the survival of his sergeant. Once back at the station, the monk administered some vinegar on a rag in an attempt to wake him from his stupor. This seemed to work, and Maynard rose again, and together they both rejoined the fight. The losses mounted on the French side, and eventually, the defenders on the wall retreated to the main keep, but all knew that the city was lost. The men now rampaged through the city, looting and pillaging as they went. Once this was done, our men reassembled, and the corporal who challenged our man came with a captain, and in no short time, he was hanged for deserting the press at the wall to save his sergeant.
With this victory and the campaigning season coming to an end, our men were transported back to Chepstow via boat, and thence they made their way back to the covenant. Four had left, and three war-weary soldiers had returned.
Jessop the cook
Edmund the sailor
Gerald the deserter with a lisp
Scribed in 1335
The four men led by Maynard went to Lydney and waited a few days for the rest of the levy to be mustered, then caught barges down the river to meet the ships at Chepstow.
Jobs were quickly divided up, and one of our men worked in the galley as a cook. He made sure he tasted all the food and never went hungry. Another of our men was an accomplished sailor and was on the decks most of the time. The other two were down in the bilges and suffered from the smell of vomit and bilges from too many men cramped into too small spaces. Some men died on the short journey, and their corpses were disposed of over the side with little ceremony.
Their leader was Sergeant Thomas, and Maynard recognised him, he thought, from a previous campaign. They disembarked in Calais and walked through the streets and then through the gate to the main encampment. Wounded men were waiting to return to England; a lot of the men here were hungry and ill. They ended up outside the city in an encampment, and nothing happened for a couple of weeks, apart from more men coming into the encampment from all over the country. Maynard was promoted to Corporal due to his previous battle experience, and he was warned of the consequences of ill discipline; however, he was rewarded with better rations and a bed to himself.
The wait was boring, so there was a lot of make-work. This kept the men busy, as idle hands make the devil's work. The long wait also allowed the weaker men there to succumb to evil humours, and some did die. Eventually, the trumpets sounded, and the men started marching under the banner of the Earl of Gloucester. The rains came down, and some of the men slept in the mud; ours were luckier in that they had bedrolls and a tarp to protect them. One of the men knew a few words in French and taught some swear words to the rest, making him quite popular.
The men arrived at a huge encampment of troops and were led to the southern flank of the main English army to camp. Again, the waiting began, and the Corporal put men on picket duty to keep them busy. A few days later, the army started to move out and eventually came to a hill where they made camp.
Across the boggy valley, the French army stood on the opposite hill. Our men were on the frontline and raised their shields in a clumsy shield wall. The wait seemed endless, and the rain poured down on their helmets. Heralds from both sides met and discussed some matters, but then withdrew. The Light troops were sent in first to absorb some arrows, cheap expendable troops, which included our contingent. The French side looked much bigger than the English forces. The initial shots came from the Welsh longbowmen behind our men, but soon the French crossbowmen found their range, and the bolts started to fall. Luckily, our men kept their shields high and were protected, but those without protection suffered under the hail of steel. The men reached the bottom of the hill and stopped to form a line. This gave time for more arrows to hit, and they took their toll. The French jeers drifted over from their lines, and our English ones were shouted back. More arrows and more death happened in that boggy valley, and then the call went out to charge.
Some of the men found running through the inches of mud hard, but eventually, the forces clashed. It was a mad melee, and many men died in the thick mud. Our men seemed to be fighting the French levy, and against them our trained grogs went through them like a hot knife through butter. The French heavy infantry were then sent in, and our men survived the first impact but were then pressed heavily by them until they were relieved by the English Heavy infantry. With that, our men filtered to the rear lines to regroup and recover. One of our men was badly wounded and was dragged back through the mud to a healing station where some monks were administering some primitive chirurgy. The rest of the battle seemed just to fizzle out, neither a great victory nor a great loss; the men withdrew to their relative hills, leaving the valley of carnage below them. The Captain of our regiment came to Corporal Maynard and asked for the report of our losses. He was told he was being promoted to Sergeant due to losses in the battle.
A sort of temporary peace was called as corpses were collected, and then the French army withdrew, and the English military marched towards the coast.
Our men were sent on a food-gathering mission for the troops and managed to find a village and extracted a lot of food, although two lads from Lydney were almost caught looting, which was punishable by death.
They then formed a camp around a small walled port. A wasting disease ran rife through the besieging force; our men were not killed by the flux, but many others were. Three weeks passed with the men slowly succumbing to the pox. Ours luckily survived this blight and spent a few weeks recovering. The call to break camp came, and the men moved forward to the front lines. They saw the huge walls of the city and the mud and blood in the ground between them and the base of the walls. Hunger was their constant companion, and they wondered who it was worse for, the people in the city or them outside. There was a ripple of excitement as some of the walls of the city collapsed, and the men of the Earl of Gloucester were informed they would have the honour of leading the charge against the breach. The next morning, the men moved out, and as before, they were pelted on the approach by bolts and arrows. Because of the mud, arrows and poor leadership, the men arrived at the breach in disorder and, as they leapt into the gap, were met by heavy foot with shields. The crush was horrendous, and the men tried mightily to break the defenders. Blows were traded, and men fell on both sides. Eventually, Sergeant Maynard was felled unconscious, and he fell at the feet of the French heavy infantry. His chances looked very poor, but then a surge from the English stepped over him, and he lay a few ranks back. One of our men left his post and carried the sergeant back to a medic station. He was challenged on the way back by a corporal, but ignored him to ensure the survival of his sergeant. Once back at the station, the monk administered some vinegar on a rag in an attempt to wake him from his stupor. This seemed to work, and Maynard rose again, and together they both rejoined the fight. The losses mounted on the French side, and eventually, the defenders on the wall retreated to the main keep, but all knew that the city was lost. The men now rampaged through the city, looting and pillaging as they went. Once this was done, our men reassembled, and the corporal who challenged our man came with a captain, and in no short time, he was hanged for deserting the press at the wall to save his sergeant.
With this victory and the campaigning season coming to an end, our men were transported back to Chepstow via boat, and thence they made their way back to the covenant. Four had left, and three war-weary soldiers had returned.
Jessop the cook
Edmund the sailor
Gerald the deserter with a lisp
On the way back to the Ship, I took another look at the troll seat and explored inside I did see a regio boundary but worse than that I saw a sigil which I assumed to be Clorus’s, not knowing the hermetic significance of this I had to stop my exploration. I felt he had claimed it and knew not what rights I would have to challenge that claim or even what tribunal would hear any charge.
Returning to the ship, I was pleased to see the repairs had been completed and under the surly gaze of the villagers we set sail for the Hornbjarg. Once there I instructed the captain to set anchor and wait for my return.
Flying invisibly I rose up from the ship and flew inland, rising quickly to the plateau behind the cliff which would have been most of a day's travel if done mundanely. Flying quickly south I passed a peak and unusually for me saw a man climbing along a cliff attempting to get to a huge eagle's nest where I saw a single egg. I continued south and had to cast a spell to allow me to see through the mist as I did not want to run into a mountain at such speed. After an hour the terrain looked nothing like my vision and I returned to the eagle's nest to see if there was something I had to do there, as the Eagle in my vision was quite prominent. I landed at the nest and through my skill avoided any damage to it from the winds whipping around me. Looking over the cliff's edge, I saw the man a blonde-headed Viking climbing just a few yards below me. Leaning over I shouted at him and he looked at me, activating the Fons Sapientiae I asked his mind if he was a member of the order of Odin to which I heard in my head a resounding “Yes”. With his fate sealed I launched a total of six balls of abyssal flame at him and he tumbled burnt and dead to the valley below. Then from behind me, I was hit in the back by the eagle returning and I stumbled, knocking the egg. It started to roll towards the cliff edge and so using my magics quickly I created a ramp of stone to gently stop it from falling off the cliff. Quickly replacing the egg in the nest I saw the eagle land and check its precious egg. Once satisfied it leapt skywards and circled a few times before flying east, I rose to the air once more and followed the eagle. It led me through a hidden valley that without its aid I would never have found and soon came to the place in my vision. However, it was slightly different with some small huts in the middle of it with what looked like women being about their daily business. These might be the shapechangers I had heard about and not wanting to let the prey know its lair had been found iI took several arcane connections from the edge of the valley and then quickly returned north to the ship.
With my quest complete I instructed the captain to return to Cardiff via Reykjavik, where we paid and dropped off our pilot. I wrote my report on the peaceful and quick homeward journey, which the captain then delivered the report to Primus Guido and Magus Cassius.