Burgundy: Origin of the Free Company: Book One

[Misha]

September 19, 1419 - Afternoon

Sir Greystoke spurred his mount deeper into the fray. He had to help clear a path to Captain, before the commander of the Free Company was surrounded. The knight's longsword flashed right & left, slashing at those that dared to bar his path.

Just as Sir Greystoke saw the ring of enemies surrounding Captain, he heard the ring of steel on steel, & felt the pull of something in the area under his right underarm. He had been hooked by the business end of polearm, wielded an enemy footman he had overlooked in his mad dash toward Captain!

With his assailant in the right rear quarter, Sir Greystoke found himself in a bind. He could not strike the haft of the polearm with his sword from that angle & he couldn't pivot over his shield to strike it either. The enemy footman pushed & pulled at the knight with his polearm, in an effort to dislodge the horseman. Only superior balance & horsemanship kept mount & rider together.

As Sir Greystoke tried to manuever into a position to release himself from the snare, a flash rang out to his right, & the haft of the polearm was sundered with a sudden crack. Sir Greystoke turned to his right in surprise, & grinned when he saw Sir Barkdreg. The Templar had hewn the polearm with one mighty blow.

The two knights saluted one another, then pitched into the circle of foes surrounding Captain. They could see the commander of the Free Company fighting like a man possessed, but he was woefully outnumbered.

"For the Free Company!" cried Sir Greystoke.

"Remember, Death rides with us!" answered Sir Barkdreg.

The two knights plunged into the ring of enemies...

 

[Lord Durham]

Captain hacked and slashed, his arm rising and falling in an automatic cadence of death. Blood and brains covered his surcoat and hauberk, while the chainmail itself was torn in several places. His body ached from the blows, but he had been lucky. Not one of them was serious, or crippling.

A loud cry behind him of 'For the Free Company' strengthened his heart, and Captain slashed at his enemies with new vigour.

In the distance the body of the Duke was carried deeper into the crowd of French, and those same French were advancing on the bridge.

This would be a titanic struggle, for the bridge was old, and could only pass four men abreast.

They had to win past and expand their foothold on the opposite side.

 

[unmerged(2540)]

Henri had heard the calls ring out from the bridge. The Duke was dead? What? Henri had then seen Captain charge headlong into the melee, and Henri could only hope that something could be done. The bridge, it was too narrow. Only 4 men abreast could walk it, and that was suicide, four against the throngs of French. Henri thought for a second, and ordered his men to form up. Joining shields, they would march slowly across the bridge, and try to create a bottleneck. But of course, they had to get across first, and that would be impossible in the current state of affairs. Henri sighed, had the men line up, and waited patiently for his chance to get across. He wondered where his mutt was, only wishing he was out of harm's way.

Henri watched the battle for the bridge, and wondered if this was the end of the line for him. He prayed for Captain's safety, and made certain his men were ready to move when they could. they would form up and let the others use himself and his men as shields. His men were used to it.

Rain fell suddenly, as if God had opened a floodgate in Heaven, trying to wash away the sins of the French on this dastardly day. It was an omen, but of good or bad, it was difficult to tell...

 

[Sgt. Bloomfield]

"Edward, will you take the right? All right, then... Lively now lads! String out along the side of the bridge! Mortlock! Get the Dukes men out of the way, just the guard can come forward. Move it move it, bring the horsemen up!"

Waving his floppy hat and gesticulating, Lt. Edmond de Bloomfielde tried to shake the men from their stupor. He ran toward the bridge. He could hear Seraphim and De Crecy shouting their orders. So little room.... There was a panting, dying horse in front of the bridge.

"Sergeant! Put this horse of its misery and clear the road. Off the road, there. Archers and Crossbowmen front. Pikemen next. Leave room there, damn your eyes!"

Bloomfielde jumped onto the base of the bridge's sidework and tried to direct the milling chaos of troups as every willing unit seemed to selfishly push forward toward the bridge. Arrows were humming around him now.

"Damn you, make room for the horses!" he screamed. This was a job for the cavalry and he could already see the Cockney and Forster, who had held the rear, come forward. If just the bloody Duke's troups would keep out of the way.

PhhhhrrrrrrrrrrRRRRT!

The recoil caused by his mighty fart took Bloomfielde by surprise and toppled him off his perch. An enemy arrow whistled overhead, where he had stood a second before. Bloomfielde scrambled to his feet, rubbing his sore behind. Saved by a short-strided wlak, he thought grimly and looked around for his Floppy Hat(TM).

 

[unmerged(4007)]

The path of destruction around Sean and the Knights finally led to the Captain. Getting to the foot of the bridge, Sean knelt with a loaded crossbowand fired and dropped one enemy. Then throwing the crossbow over his back, he picked ban reilte back up and lowered it in a mighty slash on a foe to the left of Captain.

"Cap'n darlin' good to see ye. Here I thou' we'd have a quiet day, and ye've given me the chance to relive Cuchuchlain in Ulster on this bridge!"

"A little late, Sean." The Captain said with a bloody smirk, as the knights dismounted and entered the fray.

 

[unmerged(6528)]

the bridge

Lochlan grinned savagely as another frenchman went down. He risked a quick look over his shoulder and saw the company surging into action, and was heartened by their quick response.

He turned his head back to the melee on the bridge and was gratified to see Barkdreg and Greystoke attempt to break through the ring of attackers going after Captain. He drew his bowstring taut and put an arrow through a man who had a sword raised behind Captain's back,and then quickly put another arrow on the string.

He was gratified to see Sean reach Captain, and Lochlan put another arrow into an attacker trying to reach the two. Then he loosed two arros rather quickly at the men who were pressing Diego's squad. This was getting messier and messier. He pulled another arrow from his quiver, and sighted along its length.

 

[Barkdreg]

Barkdreg was outraged, the French had once again proven to be treacherous. In the past they killed his family and now they were trying to kill his newly found family , the Company and the Duke.
Hate boiled trough his veins, he landed blow after blow on the French scum and together with the rest of the Company the French were slowly driven back. Blood splattered into his face when he cut down one of the French halbardiers that tried to unmount Greystoke.
The two knight's belowed their battlecry and charged into the fray.
The French had surrounded the Captain and tried to stab him in the back, Captain fought like possessed and managed to hold out long enough for the knights to aid him. Blows were exchanged and the French backed away from the three knights, leaving 4 bodies behind.
"Oh noble knights, just in time! Do you know were the Duke is?"
Barkdreg looked around to where he had last seen the Duke.
"Merde!"
He could see the few remaining guards fight with some horsemen
"I'll get them!"
Barkdreg spurred his horse and broke through the fighting
he charged uphill and reached the Duke only moments before the last guard hit the ground.
One blow decapitated the first of the horsemen, Barkdreg struck a second time only to have his blade skillfully parried.
"Robespierre! I knew you were behind this! I'll kill you for wounding the Duke and I'll kill you slowly if he is dead!"
the two men started exchaninging blows

 

[Derek Pullem]

Battle for the bridge

Pohlman shook his head. The treachery of the French Colonel Robsepierre was not exactly suprising but the fact that he had access to the French King boded ill for the Company in the future. But that was idle speculation. The battle needed winning NOW!

Bloomfielde's "Floppies" had strung out to either side of the crossing facing the French and the Captain and the knights were battling the French on the bridge. It looked like a stalemate as neither side could bring enough men to the battle. What was needed was some way of isolating the French on the bridge from the rest of their troops.

"Otto!" yelled Pohlman "Get the organ guns!"

"But Leutenant, the rain will make them difficult to load?"

"So we have one shot - make it a good one. Hopefully the French won't realise that!"

Otto rode back to the wagons and led the two containing the four barrelled Organ guns forward. Slapping the milling Burgundians out of the way with the flats of their swords, Spiros' men forced a way through the crowd of men to either side of the bridge. Frantically the gunners loaded the sacks of stone and metal specially prepared for the guns at close range. And close range it was - a mere 40 paces across the river.

Pohlman rode to de Bloomfielde "We get one chance at this - we'll blast the troops at each side of the bridge but you need to be ready...." he said. Bloomfielde nodded, the rain streaming off the brim of his hat. ".... and Gott in Himmel, what is that terrible smell!" exclaimed Pohlman

Turning back to the guns, Pohlman waved his handgun and the gun ports on each wagon opened. The guns belched a cloud of smoke and a peal of thunder equally as loud as that offered by the storm rolled over the battlefield.

As the smoke cleared, the gunners surveyed the impact of their work..........

 

[unmerged(228)]

At the bridge

The surprise attack of the enemy might have achieved it’s primary goal, the Duke, but the quick intervention of Captain and the Company men prevented any opportunity to retreat. Now, with increasing numbers of the Company flowing to the bridge, the fighting machine of the Company veterans ploughing it’s way through all resistance, and deadly missile fire from the crossbowmen and archers withling down the mysterious enemy, they where about to break and flee the field. Farnese and most of the crossbowmen would hold the bridge, but Johan was to hunt down any of the attackers that didn’t flee on horse.

“Remember lads, let’s try to get some of them alive.” To make his point, Johan fired a bolt from his great crossbow that lodged itself in the leg of one of the ambushers in the rear. The rest of the squad peppered the enemy with crossbow bolts in a routinely manner.

Then it happened. Johan could see it clearly from where he stood. At first a few in the back of the enemy formations ran, followed by other’s hesitant to stay, but ‘taking heart’ in the example of those that had already ran. Sergeants tried to rally men, but it only made then stand clearly out of the mass and made them an easier target for the Company snipers. Realising the futility of it all, the enemy broke, many who where not quick enough to turn chopped down where they stood by the vengefull Company infantry. A little ray of sunlight finally broke though the clouds, basking the field in some light for a change. “Today might be a good day for a little hunting after all.” Johan muttered.

 

[unmerged(6777)]

Georges and Boy - as he had learned from Henri was the mutt's name - were becoming fast friends. It was nice that the animal had come to treat him as family; not with the sort of unconditional adoration that he lavished on Henri, but more like a partner in "crime" you could share a joke with...or in this case, a bone.

The short-strided wlak flank had contained eight sizable bones. He had given one to Boy, who had pratically left in the air for the joy of it. Being smart, as dogs are, the mutt knew there was more where that had come from, and was now pertering the chef to give him another. Georges smiled and knew he would relent in another moment.

They had been waiting for this parlay to be over. Then the treachery, and subsequent melee had broken out. All of a sudden Georges remembered where he was, and with whom he travelled. It was one thing to cook meals for these men, to hear them in their day to day banter, to hold one's nose in mock horror as the aftermath of wlak made its presence felt. It was easy to start to think of them as he had come to think of many of his favorite patrons at the restaurant. It was another thing entirely to see these same men in battle.

The violence of it shocked the gentle cook. The efficiency with which the Captain and his men methodically hewed limbs, severed heads, the thump thump thump of arrows as they tore through enemy armour and penetrated deeply into the flesh beneath. The exquisite horsemanship of Sir Greystoke, the call authority of de Bloomfielde as he sought to establish and maintain order with his floppy hat (TM) the savage fury on Barkdreg’s face…

The mutt had cocked his ears and Georges could tell that the dog sensed that his master was in danger. Even as Georges reached out to grab him, he took off like a bat out of hell in the direction of the melee. Then the rain had started in earnest and the men had disappeared behind the curtain of water and mist. Georges realised he was still standing there, the horror of what he had seen freezing the blood in his veins. He would never be a fighting man, he realised, and being honest with himself he now recognised himself for what he was…a coward.

On the other hand he could try to find a way to make himself useful without getting involved directly in the battle. He began to look around and noticed that wounded men were limping back across the bridge or being carried by others. Upon reaching this side, they began to head towards a hastily set up shelter where the doctors were already working…busily stitching the wounds.

Georges suddenly knew what he could do. The men, both the injured and the hale, would need warmth after the fight, and a good meal to replenish their energy. He went and found the general camp cook and his assistants and began giving them instructions to set up some additional shelters, to light fires and bring warm blankets, to quickly bring a cauldron of chicken and barley soup up to temperature, and to begin preparing some trail bread and gravy for the men.

Once he knew that this was well underway, he began to prepare some food of his own for the officers who would surely return to reorganize and determine their next move. He could ensure that there was mulled clove wine in plenty to warm them up, and an assortment of cold meats and left-over wlak to bring the strength back to their limbs.

It would be a long, cold, wet afternoon.

 

[unmerged(4007)]

Sean followed closely by the Captain as they slashed their way through the remaining French on the bridge. In the distance he could see that more of the Company was streaming into the fray, then he heard the roar of the guns, the blast threw him to the ground, and he could hear the bridge begin to splinter behind him.

A frenchmen with a polearm towered over him and seemed likely to skewer him with his weapon. But Sean pulled the mini-crossbow from his belt and shot the man in his throat. Scrambling to his feet, he managed to dodge the thrust of another polearm. Then he broke the haft of it with his sword, and finished him by sweeping upwards into his left side.

At last with a little time to breath, he slung his crossbow back down, loaded and fired, dropping a man that had tried to sneak behind Captain. Then he charged back into the fray, hoping the dicharge of the cannon would not have damaged the bridge so badly that the cavalry would have to swim, rather than ride, across the river. They would need every one of those arrogant knights today...

 

[Rictus]

To say that Edward was surprised was an understatement. Edmond and himself had barely had to time to gather their regiments and drive them onto the bridge when it appeared that the French were retreating.

Pohlmann had done a fine job of clearing the banks and the repercussions were still rippling through the packed French hordes vying to get onto the bridge. Edward prayed that if it wasn't true that the French were running, then let the master gunner have a few more rounds.

Up ahead, still emroiled in the melee was Captain, Barkdreg and Greystroke - along with forward elements of the scouting regiment and the leading parts of Edmonds force, which was slighty ahead of Edwards regiment. He could see Bloomfelde now, hollering at his troops to move faster

Behind him, Henri's regiment waited patiently for Edwards force to cram itself onto the bridge, and to his left, now that the twin organ guns had added their deadly voices to the cresendo, Johan and his archers were peppering the French on the far banks.

Pohlman was moving round the front of his guns now, and was exchanging words (sadly lost on Edward) with his assistant. It did not look good. Edward hoped that the French did not have any cannons. The damage they would cause on the bridge would be catastrophic.

With that in mind, he pushed forward, jostling the men in front of him. It was rapidly turning into a shoving match. Which, from where Edward was, he could not tell who was winning.

Beneath him, there was a yelp. Edward glanced down only to see Henri's adopted dog darting in between his legs.

"Crap." Edward said, looking back to Henri, "everyman and his dog is involved now."

 

[unmerged(6021)]

battle over?

Duncan could not see what was happening in front of his squad. They were jostled and pushed by the throng of men tying to push their way to where the fighting was.

"Hamish, can ye no see what is goin on?" Duncan yelled.

Hamish peered into the misting rain, "Ah can no see much, it seems the Captain and that Irish mick bast**d are still fighting up ahead, but some o the Frenchies have run away."

Duncan shook his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his leutenant. He smiled and shrugged at Edward, as if to say "what the hell, who knows?"

The Scots continued to try and push thier way across the bridge.

 

[unmerged(6777)]

OOC: Errr...are any of you leader types considering that the French running away might be a ploy to draw a good half or more of the force across the bridge? Meanwhile large enemy cavalry force may have crossed the river a ways up/down stream and is going to slam into our unprotected rear while you're all milling about on the other side looking for "frightened" frenchmen?

Just a thought...(it's what I would do if I knew I could be fighting someone dangerous)

 

[Rictus]

Clearing Things Up...

Captain buried his weapon into the shoulder of yet another French soldier and twisted in his saddle to pull the hauberk free. The soldier - an ugly bastard with ginger hair - dropped to the ground and buried his face in the blood soaked floor of the bridge.

Beside him, Sean now stood, panting and with that manic look in his eyes he always had after a good fight. Barkdreg had now advanced to the foot of the bridge, where he back-handed one French recruit away almost carelessly. Greystroke was beside him, clearing away the last of the French on the bridge.

Lochlan had stalked past Captain a few moments earlier in that eerie manner of his, notching another arrow to his bow as he did so.

Captain kicked back his spurs to push past the two knights. Yes, the French had retreated, but it was nothing permanent. No, it was far to soon for a full retreat. Stragglers were still on the field ahead of him, and a few arrows quickly changed their mind about trying to take advantage of Captains need for a view. No, the Knight was far more concerned with the mass of humanity that lay just a little further away. Figures on hroseback were galloping up and down, reforming the French into a proper battle line. It would only be a matter of moments before they began to advance again.

_____

Edward stepped off of the bridge and onto the ground almost at a run. Edmond and much of his regiment had crossed a little earlier and were already forming up to his left. Duncun, Cockney, Kishlanksky all began to gather their troops together.

Edward could see what Captain had moved forward for. The French were preparing to counter attack and this time there would be no guns to help the Company. Edmond could tell as well, his hand was firmly plastered to his head in that nervous, worried manner he had and was waving his sword even more liberally than usual.

Behind Edward, Don Diego and Henri's troops began to spill over the bridge, though their progress was hampered by the damage done by the guns. Arrayed on either side of the far bank, Johan and his archers/crossbowmen were busy reloading and preparing.

______

Captain had seen enough, he wheeled around took position at the apex of bridge. The knights gathered around him while the various regiments arrayed themselves in front of him and behind, the support elements of the Company prepared.

Now, their opponants began the long awaited advance, timed with beats from a score of unseen drums. A hail of arrows fell amongst the bridges defenders, including a bolt that whistled past Captains ear. He flinched and his big andulasian shied to one side.

This was not going to be so easy...

__________________________

OOC: Am I taking the story into my own hands? Naw. Too much effort for that. Lets just put it this way, while its not in the rules, only LD really opens and closes a battle.

 

[Sgt. Bloomfield]

De Bloomfielde fumed. That's what he got for trying to get things organized. Everybody and his brother was madly rushing across the bridge, while his men were lining the river on either side. He cursed.

Then he jumped back up on the parapet of the bridge and waved at his men. "Men! Who can swim? If you don't have any armor, then get across by swimming. Leave all gear hear. Sgt. Alberic, you will detail a guard for the gear. Lead the non-swimmers across as you can. Grappa and Campari! You remain here as a rearguard. Coordinate with Alberic.... On, lads!"

De Bloomfielde plunged into the river and started swimming.

 

[unmerged(4007)]

OOC--I didn't know the battle was CLOSE to being over actually. Just because we got to the other side of the bridge means that we're DEEPER into the French ranks. As for "retreating," well, someone probably saw the French who are trying to carry the Duke away and confused that for a typical French reaction.

 

[unmerged(6528)]

the "wrong side of the bridge" is whatever side you happen to be on

The only noise he made was the low hum of his bow as he shot arrow after arrow into the enemy. As much to injure them, as to discourage them from bothering Captain, who was surveying the French as they began to organize.

Lochlan looked back over his shoulder, and saw Lieutenant Bloomfield ordering the regiment. Lochlan couldn't hear what he was saying, but from the results, it was obvious. The lightly armored troops were swiming (his scouts included), and the heavier armored men were making a more organized push toward the bridge.

He had gotten across rather quickly himself, and was calling out orders to those of Bloomfields men who made it across. "Where is Friedrich and his loud mouth when we need it?" He thought. Then, satisfied that the men would at least foom up, he returned his attention to the Frogs who were forming up.

He saw one nice target, a french nobleman, who was out in front of his men, gesturing with his sword. He reached back for a an arrow...and hit air. He pulled his quiver around, and looked at in astonishment. It was empty. "Damn." He muttered. "I've never run out of arrows before, this is ridiculous." Shaking his head, he checked to make sure his sword was free in its scabbard, and turned to wait for Lieutenant Bloomfield to cross the river.

He looked back and saw the Bloomfield was close now, but by god, did he call that swimming? Lochlan almost felt sorry for the river. Then he looked back along the bank. And he watched Seraphim calling out orders, as was Greystoke. Only Captain was silent, and he had eye's only for the enemy. "This is going to be rough one." Lochlan thought, and he turned to give his Lieutenant a hand out of the water.

 

[unmerged(228)]

The french cavalry wouldn’t let them take the field. There would be no opportunity for hunting with that cavalry so near. Johan was glad that he had brought the giant crossbow. Over the last months, he went back to a tried and tested conventional crossbow design, to better cooperate with the men as a team. No use taking pot-shots if the rest of your men don’t have that equipment. But today, the great crossbow gave him some excellent sniping opportunities. And the heavy all-metal bolts would prove very usefull against those french cavalry. Farnese had the rest of the crossbowmen deployed on the other side of the river, where they could provide covering fire if the french charged. Johan and his squad stood on the side of the river the Company just claimed, preparing for the charge. Johan was hoping that Captain and the cavalry would get over with their bussiness, so that the Company could withdraw to the safe side. However Captain seemed otherwise occupied, as he chopped down more of the french in persuit of the Duke. This would take quite a while.
On the other hand, the rain had finally stopped, so the gunpowder weapons might be deployed. Captain seemed to make up his mind, and decided to receive the charge. The Company would have to muster every ounce of strength, for the french began their advance again. Their first casualty was a cockey nobleman, incapacitated by Johan with a well aimed bolt.

 

[unmerged(7095)]

OOC - I'm a little confused. The Duke and the King met on the bridge, right? Then Robspierre and his bunch charge the bridge and the Duke goes down. The King and his guard leave the bridge and Robespierre's group carries off the Duke leaving the bridge vacant except for the remains of the Duke's guards and Captain and the Company Knights who charged at the first sign of treachery. I had assumed that they followed the Duke onto the French side of the river and had Don Diego follow them and set up shop at the other side of the bridge so that the rest of the company could cross because the French who were just a little bit slower were trying to take the bridge. It seemed like they weren't expecting the treachery anymore than we were so they wouldn't have been ready for it and their King was safe, so they didn't have any reason to charge the bridge until they were under attack from the Company except for any elements Robespierre left behind.

Maybe I was a little out of line in assuming most of the action would be on the French side of the river because all the sudden the action is back on the bridge. What happened?

By the way, I think that Rictus's last post is a good re-organizer.