An attempt at writing

I stand, overlooking the town far bellow as the reconstruction began from the previous raid. The villagers all solemnly going about their duties of repairing and rebuilding what had been lost, all looking worn down however, all going on, iron faced as they usually do.

Conflict wasn?t an uncommon thing here, it was close to the border and thus raids were common, either by bandits or by surrounding nations that had managed to set up a foot hold over Fort Terin which was a mere ten leagues north of here. The villagers were a hard folk of course, particularly due to the constant exterior and interior conflicts within the country. The rebellion, the bandits, neighbouring nations, this icy chill that has set itself upon the land and caused it to freeze over and many crops to wilter and die has brought hard times about for all and has made those remaining all hard and cold.

After all, all of those who weren?t so were either killed or pushed back inland.

I sigh, sparing one last glance before returning to my duties. This was, after all, the highest point and thus I was posted here, with a small garrison of fifty archers to alert the villagers of raids coming and to attempt to weaken the force before it arrived. Thankfully most of those who got this far were already depleted previously from having attacked Fort Terin.

This, however, was not the case with bandits, the worst threats to this land and one that we have seen all too commonly. Bandits were often well equipped from previous raids, often on caravans or travellers which they have ambushed. We may know that they are there but any forces we send out to deal with them are ambushed or simply never manage to find them.

Attacked from without and within, we are trapped, unable to focus on either target lest the other attacks our backs, I thought to myself, What a mess we?re in, still, there is nothing we can do about it I suppose.

Suddenly a voice breaks the silence. ?Sir, marching from the North, heading this way, perhaps three hundred strong,? Jon said, his tone formal, he hadn?t been here long and thus he didn?t understand that there was no need for such formality in this frozen wasteland, ?What are your orders??

?Alert the villagers, have them position a garrison and close the gates,? I yelled, one of them grabbed out a small, metallic object upon which light reflected, an old fashioned way of sending signals but by far the fastest, as I grabbed my bow, aiming up at an angle, ?All archers draw, aim, fire!?

Following suit, the drew, aiming for the same point and fired at will, arrows fizzing through the air towards the group down hill, a total of thirty seven to connect, causing nearly nineteen to fall, and a further eighteen injuries. The villagers took up garrison armed with crossbows for the most part and a small garrison of troops on the ground to deal with any that might make it through.

Should this come to a long battle they would die, they knew. Most of these villagers were still tired from the last raid and this place was not up and running to full capacity.

They had to end this quickly, or else they would all die. ?Draw? Aim? Fire!? I yelled, once more, my bow releasing, followed by many more arrows. A total of forty three were now dead and a further thirty four injured. Over a quarter of their force was dealt with. However, they were coming in range, they would start firing back soon, however, thankfully they held no tar, or else the village would burn and would most likely leave it as nothing more than a wreck.

Arrows suddenly flew back, many falling short due to the position but the few that had hit had been enough. Twelve of my garrison now lay dead, four more of my men were injured and two more were mourning the loss of their comrades. I cursed quietly and drew, gritting against it and deadening all emotions but rage and used it to fuel me.

We fired, our force taking out another seven, and injuring four. However, this was our last. They were too close to aim at without risking hitting the villagers and thus we moved to withdrew into a small tunnel, abandoning the two grieving comrades and rushed towards the village through the network of tunnels as they came within range of the crossbows, bolts whizzing past and smashing into the enemy, causing many more to fall as they came forward.

I hoped that a third was enough, for it was all we could do. There weren?t enough of us to do anything more or anything less. However, something told me that the reinforcements would be welcome there, regardless of the lack of men and thus we moved on, coming up within twenty minutes into the town, suddenly devoured by the roar of combat, the sound of something smashing against the gates, crossbows clicking, mass shouting, swords clashing by the east gate, and the south sounding like it was about to give way.

We were losing, slowly, but we were slowly giving way to the enemy. All would soon be lost. Our troops took up positions around the tunnel. ?RETREAT,? I roared, my voice carrying to those nearby and the order coming. The few still armed with swords and shields held their ground, holding them back as the majority of what remained of our forces withdrew to the tunnels.

My garrison continued to fire as they left, holding them back, though just barely as the troop slowly gave way and moved back here. As the last of the archers entered the tunnel, we moved in and twenty of the previous seventy ground units having moved in and we ran, setting off preset traps in order to collapse this end of the tunnel after us and we moved to the previous garrison, from which we would head south east to the village of Irradil.

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