NarniaMUCK

This is a masterpost for a series of compilation logs depicting all of the roleplay which took place on NarniaMUCK surrounding the events of The Horse and His Boy. More will be added as we finish them, so check back often!

In recommended reading order:
Day 1: The Defenders, Part 1
Day 1: The Defenders, Part 2
Day 1: The Refugees, Part 1
Day 1: The Refugees, Part 2
Day 1: The Invaders
Day 2: The Battle, Part 1
Day 2: The Battle, Part 2
Day 2: The Refugees

This is a log of all of the roleplay that took place among those who defended Anvard Castle from Rabadash's army during the first day of the siege.

The characters who appear in this log include Adeliha, Anradin, Arael, Aryna, Azrooh, Chlamash, Cole, Colin, Corradin, Dar, Darrin, Deonyc, Eston, Fionna, Ilgamuth, Johan, Lanisen, Lune, Philip, Rabadash, Sehsis, Shar, and Tran.
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After having been intercepted while out on a hunt by an unidentified boy who warned them of an impending attack on their castle, King Lune and his knights ride hard back toward Anvard.

At the Fork
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The path divides here, one fork curving west toward Anvard and the other
continuing to the northeast toward Andale. The trees are very thick here, with
dense patches of thorny briar filling in the gaps between trunks, and it is
impossible to see very far down the road in any direction. Sweet raspberries
can be found in the thickets on either side of the path in summertime, and the
forest is noisy with wildlife.
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Lune, at the head of the hunting party, keeps his horse at a brisk canter. He draws up outside the gates and turns to face the company. "The town must be warned." He surveys them briefly, grim faced and calculating, and says, "Sir Colin."

Colin guides his mount to King Lune's side. "Sire?" he asks, his expression serious.

Dar follows close behind his sovereign, his own expression sober to the point of severity. He reins Celeres in and listens intently.

Lanisen draws up as well, handling his horse with far more ease than two months ago at this time, and glances from the king to Colin.

Lune says, "Ride to the town. Tell them of what approaches; offer them sanctuary in the castle." He takes off his signet ring and nudges his mount closer to Colin, handing it over. "My sign, should any challenge you."

Shar rides up beside his sons, alert but not unduly tense, awaiting orders.

Colin accepts the ring with a brief nod. Glancing over his shoulder, his voice booms out, "Lanisen, with me," and he urges Coalblack into a run, heading towards Andale.

Cole sits at the ready upon his mount, near where the King and his brother are speaking. He gives Colin a nod as he departs.

Lanisen nods, pale and serious, and nudges his horse's sides with his heels.

Darrin reins in his own mount, restless though the horse is, and waits silently.

Lune watches them disappear around the bend in the road, then turns back to the company. "The rest of you, to me." He makes a 'tchk' noise to his horse and thunders down the road to the castle.

Dar remarks, his tone grave, "The supplies should hold, Sire. No matter how many take up your offer. I checked the inventory myself before we rode out--" At Lune's command, the lightest word from Dar spurs Celeres into a canter and he rides hard after the king.

Lune leads the way to the castle.

Outer Ward
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You stand in the busy outer ward of Castle Anvard, full of people seeing to the
needs of king and kingdom. There are market stalls along the outer wall,
bustling with merchants and shoppers. Grooms work in the stables, tending to
the horses there, and you hear the occasional bark of a dog from the kennels.
The sounds of hammer hitting iron ring out from the blacksmith shop. There are
stairs leading to the gate towers on the northern and southern corners of the
outer curtain. To the east is the outer gatehouse, and the road leading into
the realm of Archenland, and to the west is another gate, leading to the inner
gatehouse, the inner ward, and the main keep of Anvard.
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In Andale and the surrounding areas, a loud and deep toll rings from the alarm bell.

Lune dismounts, handing off his mount to a groom and already booming instructions. "Lord Dar, see to messengers for Coghill and Lancelyn Green! Send the fastest riders, tell them to muster their men and be on their guard! Two-hundred Calormene horsemen ride on our gates, that is the message."

Dar swings out of the saddle with the ease of long practice. "At once, Sire." He hands Celeres to Cantil to see to, then, in a few long strides, he is off in the direction where the couriers are housed.

Lune turns to a wide-eyed servant. "Open the Great Hall, and tell the kitchen to prepare for a long night." He glances at Cole. "The townspeople, those who cannot fight, will be safest inside the castle. See to it that blankets and what comforts we can muster are gathered there."

Cole promptly dismounts his horse, landing with ease and also moving to hand his reins to Cantil. "It will be done, Sire." He then briskly moves into the castle.

Lune scans those who remain. His face does not change expression, but he goes deathly pale. He moistens his lips and glances at Shar. "Muster the men, and be ready to close the portcullis the moment that the people are inside. Wait as long as you can."

Shar also dismounts. "At once, Sire." He disappears through the gates.

Lune says, "Lord Darrin..."
Lune mumbles "... boy, where is ... boy?", to Darrin.

Fionna gratefully grasps Adeliha's arm, thankful for the support as she limps along. The two women and the family they bring with them are the first of the commoners to arrive at the castle.

Darrin says, "Sire." He drops to the ground lightly and hands off his horse. At the King's quiet words, his head whips up to look around them with wide eyes. He frowns. "I had thought he was just behind, Sire." There is a touch of panic to his words.

Lune turns toward the gates, searching. He looks at every face, shaking his head slightly, and looks back at Darrin. The shadow of an old and terrible grief is on his face, but he straightens and with a great effort puts it aside. "Do not close the portcullis until the very nearest moment," he says, and turns to face his people.

Colin enters the gates, leading a group of the Andale townspeople. He leads his horse, which holds two young boys, and guides a particular family. "Everyone stay within the gates and await instructions, please! Stay quiet as you can while we sort this," he calls out to the people.

Darrin scans the crowd as well, his face grim, before he turns back to the King and nods. "As you command, Sire," he says. He steps aside, out of the way of the crowd, towards the soldiers manning the portcullis.

Adeliha helps Fionna over to a place to sit down, allowing the older woman's family to attend to her. She calmly watches the crowd, her eyes on the leader of the group.

Fionna quietly whispers thanks to her helper and checks to see that her family is all right. She hugs her grandniece and nephew close.

Arael is still pale and wide-eyed as she enters the castle gates. She sticks close by Aryna and Laya, and her eyes keep scanning and re-scanning the children to make sure they are all still near her.

Aryna holds her son tightly. She allows him onto the ground to stand, but keeps a firm hold on him as she presses to Arael's side.

Eston looks around at the massed crowd with growing confusion.
Eston mumbles "... no one ... to tell ... what's ... on?", to Eston.

Deonyc looks around, unsure of what to do.

Lune faces his people. He waits for the murmuring to quiet.

Philip stays close to Sehsis, trying to make room for the others.

Sehsis stays near the back of the crowd, making sure to keep an eye on Philip.

Johan leans against a stall near the crowd, waiting to hear what is going on, exactly.

Colin holds up his hand to urge everyone to quiet down. His horse moves its hooves, a little nervous with the amount of people pressing close to his flanks.

Lanisen quietly unloads people's things from Maestro's broad back, handing them out to their respective owners.

Deonyc walks over to Johan and stands next to him.

Darrin, to the side, rests a hand on his sword and watches the crowd settle. He speaks in a low tone to the soldiers near him and the gate.

Lune says, in a voice that is not particularly loud but still carries to everyone in the ward, "You have doubtless heard by now that danger marches on our gates." He glances at Colin and gives him a brief acknowledging nod of approval and thanks. "Rabadash, crown prince of Calormen, leads two hundred horsemen against us this night. They will be here within the hour."

Sehsis jumps at these words as if he received an electric shock. He backs further away from the crowd, his eyes wide.

Shar emerges from the barracks, where he has given the men perfunctory instruction. He moves in the direction of the gatehouse.

Philip tugs on Sehsis' sleeve. "Do you know him? Rabadash?" he whispers.

Deonyc walks over to Sehsis. "Did you know of this?"

Sehsis shakes his head quickly, unable to get any words out.

Colin watches the crowd sharply. Abruptly, he hands Coalblack's reins to Arael and moves to the merchant's side. "Quiet!" he orders everyone. "Your king is speaking!"

Johan notices Sehsis back away, throws a curious glance towards him, and steps a little bit closer as he spots Deonyc moving in.

Lanisen, having realized for the first time that Sehsis is in the crowd, looks alarmed. He glances quickly at Colin.

Eston frowns and briefly looks towards the Calormene, but he says nothing, paying more attention to what the King is saying.

Adeliha tips her head, not able to see the king from that far away. She grabs the nearest bystander and after speaking quietly to him, the man nods and begins to repeat the message to the woman. Her eyes widen briefly before returning to her normal matter-of-fact expression.

Lune's attention has been drawn by the small commotion. He gives the Calormene a long, level look, but does nothing more than to gesture for peace. "If you can wield a weapon, every hand will be needed to defend our walls. There is room in the Great Hall being prepared for those who cannot. You will be defended there."

Arael stands on her tiptoes and cranes her neck to see over the crowd as she listens to the King's words. She takes the horse's reins in an automatic motion when Sir Colin hands them to her.

Shar moves to Colin's side and speaks quietly to him.
Shar mumbles "Are there any ... ... the gates?", to Colin.

Eston nods to himself at the king's words, a determined expression crossing his face.

Colin turns his head slightly when Shar starts speaking to him. He responds, keeping his voice low.
Colin mumbles "Not ... ... ... aware of.", to Shar.

Sehsis shrinks back as the king's gaze falls on him, trying to make himself scarce.

Deonyc points to the Calormene. "Lords, what should we do with the Calormene?"

Johan walks closer to Deonyc. "Leave him alone, Deonyc..." He gives another glance toward Sehsis.

Lune looks at the man in hunting gear and says, rather sharply, "That is not yours to decide. Hold your peace."

Deonyc bows his head. "Yes, M'lord."

Arael pats the horse's neck reassuringly as he dances nervously back and forth. Just then, a tall man with a worry-laden face presses through the crowd toward the family gathered around her. He snatches the smaller of the two boys off of the horse's back and holds him tight. Arael steadies the horse in its place as he does so, looking profoundly relieved and too occupied with her task to pay much mind to the commotion around her.

Lune commands, "Those of you who can wield a weapon, step forward."

Deonyc steps forward. "My sword is yours."

Shar nods to Colin's words and moves toward the gatehouse, where Lord Darrin is already standing.

Adeliha stands next to the man that is translating what the king is saying. Her eyes watch his face closely. If she has noticed the commotion that went on, she isn't showing it.

Lanisen glances at Colin, then takes an uncertain step forward.

Darrin nods to Shar and says something quietly.
Darrin mumbles "... believe that's ... of ... though we could ... ... ... ... the ... a ... ... two ... ... you ... ... ...", to Shar.

Colin catches Lanisen's glance and offers a slight nod, his expression grim as his friend steps forward. He also steps forward to stand at Lanisen's side, even though with him being a knight it's likely assumed he's going to be wielding something. He glances at the family he has been helping before facing forward.

The man who has just lifted his son off of the horse's back looks up and toward the King at this command. He sets the boy down, presses a kiss to each of his three children's foreheads, grips his wife's hand reassuringly for a moment, and steps forward.

Aryna's brown eyes widen as Colin, Lanisen, and Rannen step forward. She creeps closer to Arael, clasping her fingers with her own dead-cold ones.

Eston steps forward with that same determined expression. "I'll fight."

Johan steps forward silently, standing next to the others.

Deonyc turns to Eston. "I didn't think we'd meet like this."

A big, burly man who joined the crowd from the market nods with a glance to his wife before he steps forward.

Lune surveys the small crowd and nods. "Lord Shar," he says. "See these men kitted and armed."

Fionna grips her daughter's hand tightly as her niece holds her son tightly. A look of sorrow is etched on her face.

Shar begins to give his son instruction, but the King calls to him at this time. Instead, Lord Shar nods to Lord Darrin, and moves toward the crowd of men.

Arael grips Aryna's hand tightly with one hand while she hangs onto the horse's reins with the other. She looks to and fro around the marketplace, watching as the men--those she knows and those she doesn't--prepare for battle.

Philip frowns as he watches, his hand still gripping Sehsis' sleeve.

Darrin nods to his father and murmurs something in the negative when one of the soldiers asks him if the gates are ready to be closed. He scans the crowd again quickly, rubbing at the back of his neck, and steps outside the gates for a moment to scan the countryside. When he returns, he shakes his head, mouth set in a thin line.

Adeliha moves over to the older woman, giving her a small nod of encouragement. She continues to stand, watching everything going on.

Sehsis remains paralysed to the spot, eyes wide and in shock.

Shar surveys the men. His lips press into a line not unlike that on his youngest son's face, and he gives a sort of nod. "After me, then, all of you."

Shar leads the volunteers off to the barracks to be armed.

Lune makes brief eye contact with Colin and says to the remaining people, "The rest of you, follow Lord Colin to the Great Hall. There will be food prepared for you there."

Colin nods his head, taking his horse's reins finally from Arael and leading the mount to hand off to a stable man before rejoining the crowd. "Everyone else, follow me please." He repeats the king's orders.

Adeliha begins to help the nearest people follow Colin.

Lune gestures briefly to the Calormene man, beckoning.

Sehsis takes a calming breath which doesn't work and makes his way towards the king, in the manner of a man ascending the steps to the gallows.

Philip watches as the King beckons Sehsis closer. He takes a step forward to follow, but then looks unsure. "Sehsis! Where do I go?"

Colin reaches out to guide Arael's family once more, his hand lightly on her elbow to guide her along with everyone else. He reaches down to take the hand of one of the young boys, leading the way into the castle.

Sehsis stops, saying to Philip, "Go with the others..."

Philip frowns. "But...what about you?" He looks worried, but takes a step towards the others, turning around to look back at Sehsis.

Arael swallows and straightens her shoulders. She grasps Tadden's hand in her now-free one and follows the crowd through the marketplace.

Darrin continues to hover near the gate, hand on his hilt. He watches the crowd disperse, scanning individual faces as they go and continuing to frown, before he looks back to the King.

Sehsis says, "I'll..." he trails off and shakes his head, falling silent.

Lune gives the boy a reassuring nod and says quietly, "Go."

Philip looks at King Lune and nods slowly, running to catch up with the others.

Lune looks at the Calormene for a moment, sizing him up. "You need not fear," he says. "We shall not ask you to raise arms against your own country. However..."

Sehsis nods ever so slightly, remaining silent and not looking directly at the King, clearly still very fearful.

Darrin remains with the soldiers as the outer ward empties, mostly silent. He casts glances at the King and the Calormene every so often.

Lune pauses, briefly uncertain in the face of the man's fear. "You shall not be harmed, either," he says, more gently. "We do not account to you the deeds of your countrymen. But We will ask for your word that you do not mean to cause mischief inside the walls of Our palace, and to surrender any weapons on your person."

Sehsis gives a low, rather shaky bow and says quietly, his voice breaking somewhat, "I...I do not mean to cause any trouble, Your Majesty." He removes a small, curved dagger from about his person and drops it on the floor.

Lune repeats, quiet but firm, "Your word."

Sehsis says, "I give you my word, Your Majesty..."

Lune nods slowly. "Break it on pain of permanent banishment," he warns. "You may join the others."

Sehsis bows and says shakily, "Y-yes, Your Majesty...Thank you, Your Majesty."

Lune nods again and gestures for the man to go. He turns toward Darrin, a question in his face.

Sehsis backs away, then quickly heads to where the others went.

Darrin steps forward and says quietly, "No sign of the boy, Sire. I couldn't spot him amongst the crowd either. Shall we wait a few moments more? He may still find his way to us."

Lune turns, looking around the empty ward, and crosses to the gatehouse. He stares down the road with desperate hope, then finally runs a hand through his hair. His face is agonized. "Close the gates."

Darrin dips his head and glances to the soldiers behind him awaiting the command. They move to obey, the portcullis soon descending. Darrin watches this with a closed expression on his face, before glancing back to the King.

Dar comes to stand on Lune's other side, his features expressionless as the gates begin to swing shut with a clang of finality. Like the king, he also glances toward the road leading up to the palace.

Lune watches the portcullis slam down. He turns on his heel without another word and strides toward the castle.

Darrin sends a glance to Dar and moves to follow the King automatically.

Dar turns to follow when it is clear not a single soul more is coming. He falls into step beside his brother.

Lune, Dar, and Darrin disperse to collect their armor and weaponry, then re-gather in the Outer Ward.

Lune returns in short order, wearing his armor and buckling his sword belt. He glances at the brothers, nods once grimly, and indicates the walls. He leads the way up the inner stairs.

Meanwhile:

Army Barracks
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You stand in the barracks belonging to the Army of Archenland. Here is where
the men reside when not on campaign. There are many bunks along the walls
and at the foot of each bunk is a foot locker. The barracks is neat and
tidy. Arrow slot windows facing out allow for defense and provide light.
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Shar leads the men up a staircase and into a bunked room supplied to house soldiers pragmatically, if not entirely comfortably. Once they are all assembled, he turns to face them. "Who among you can wield a bow?"

Deonyc steps forward. He says, "I can if I must."

Lanisen is hanging toward the back of the group, but he raises his hand.

Eston shakes his head at the question.

Johan shakes his head as well. He notices Eston and gives him a quick nod.

Shar gestures to the men who respond in the positive, picking a few out of the ranks to inquire, "Your name?"

Deonyc says, "Deonyc."

Lanisen says, "Lanisen, sir."

Eston gives Johan a nod and nervous smile.

Deonyc asks, "Where should we get our arrows?"

Lanisen takes a careful step forward, still wrong-footed. "Sir, I--I have a bow, it's in my chambers..."

Shar assigns them each a locker. "You'll find supplies here." He nods to Lanisen. "If you've one that's better fit to you, fetch it, but quickly."

Lanisen nods quickly. He bows and scurries from the barracks.

Shar says, "Anything you do not need, leave in your chest. Those of you who are not archers, remain here. We hope not to need you. We will remain within the castle walls if we are able. Archers, when you are ready, follow me to the wall."

Eston nods. "Yes, sir."

Johan nods. "Understood."

Deonyc says, "I am ready."

Lanisen returns, quiver over his back. He takes a place near the wall, quiet.

Tran tramps into the barracks, looking a little out of breath. He clears the hair from his eyes before bowing quickly to Shar. "Apologies, I came as quickly as I could. Can you use me here?"

Shar says, "Yes, thank you, Tran. We were just about to head up to the wall."

Tran nods. "Of course." He joins the group, ready to move off.

Lord Shar leads the archers up onto the walls.

Eston leans against the wall, breathing a heavy sigh. “Bleeding heck..."

Johan grunts slightly. "I know… what a messed up situation…"

Eston rubs his forehead. "Wishing I knew how to use a bow now. I don't half feel useless."

Johan nods. "Yeah. I get what you mean... still... let's hope that we are not needed."

Eston asks, "... Reckon the archers can really hold them off?"

Johan says, "I am not sure... two hundred men is a lot... but how do they plan on getting in when the gates are sealed?"

Eston shrugs. "Iunno. Battering ram? Ladders?"

Johan says, "Didn't they say the force was on horseback? They couldn't possibly get that much equipment here that fast."

Eston says, "Small mercy."

Johan says, "Still, though... It's kind of ironic of us, isn't it... immediately stepping forward at the king's command... considering what we spoke about when we met."

Eston waves a hand. "That's different! We're allowed to complain, but now we're being /invaded/."

Johan says, "True, true... but still."

Eston says, "'S a matter of doing what's right for your country."

Johan nods. "Yeah... I am here to protect the women and children that are holed up in between the castle walls."

Eston nods. "Right. I got a daughter and I'm blasted if I'm letting her grow up a slave to the Calormenes!"

Johan nods in agreement. "We will stop them... for Archenland! For the people!"

Eston exclaims, "Too right!"

Meanwhile, up on the castle walls:

Northern Wall Walk
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You stand on Anvard's Northern Wall Walk. From here you have a view of
travelers approaching from the north and northeast. A cool wind ruffles your
clothes. A glance down into the Outer Ward reveals the bustle of people going
to and from the market stalls, or off to various duties throughout the castle.
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Shar splits the group into four units, asking Tran to command half of them. "Spread evenly along the wall. We face two hundred men with only our small numbers, but we have the advantage of fortitude and range. We may yet prevail, and keep our loved ones safe."

Tran calls, "With me!" to the men indicated, and moves into position several yards down the wall. "Hold your fire until the signal is given, all of you, but be ready"

Deonyc nooks an arrow to the string. He says, "Well, this is how it all begins."

Tran pulls his arrow back to sight along it, peering carefully out into the distance.

Deonyc follows his lead and raises his bow.

Shar stops at a few of the more nervous-looking recruits, providing small encouragements. When he reaches Lanisen, he says, "You are Colin's squire, is that right?"

Lanisen starts and drops an arrow. "Uh--um," he says. "Not--precisely, sir. I just travel with him."

Tran relaxes his bow and returns it to his side, nodding to himself. Glancing over at Deonyc, he asks, "Is this your first time?"

Deonyc says, "In battle, yes, but hunting, no. I hope it will stay that way, too."

Shar mumbles "I have ... you ... ... ... He ... not always ... confident ... but you ... to ... him some ...", to Lanisen.

Tran nods to the man with a grim smile. "Trust in your aim and your instincts then. They will serve you well. Just be sure to use the cover here to your advantage. Deer do not tend to shoot back, but today's game will take any opportunity, I'm sure."

Lanisen glances at Shar, giving him a quick grin. "I hope so, sir," he answers.

Colin walks along the wall, fastening the last of his armor as he approaches the others. With a grim nod to each and every one, he pulls out his bow and prepares, moving to Lanisen's side.

Shar stands talking to Lanisen. Seeing Colin approach, he lifts his gaze and smiles.

Colin returns Shar's smile grimly before he focuses, sighting along his strung longbow.

Lanisen tests an arrow, rolling it between his hands nervously, and stares down at the ground below.

Lune, Dar, and Darrin arrive from below.

Before the gates of Anvard, the Calormene cavalry starts to break through the trees. Rabadash wheels his horse around in a sharp halt, raising his hand to signal his Tarkaans to do likewise as he sees the tightly shut gates before them. A frown darkens his face.

Shar begins to say something more to Lanisen, but he steps back as he sees the Calormenes approach. He lifts a hand to hold.

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh quickly wheels about at the Prince's gesture. His eyes narrowing at the shuttered castle gates, he makes a harsh signal to his cohort to hold back.

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth brings his horse to a stop, frowning at the sight of the closed-down castle. "O, the gods do like to mock us," he says almost to himself. "The barbarians must have found out somehow."

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin reins in his horse to a stop. "Why isn't the gate open?" he shouts.

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh snaps at Ilgamuth, "How could they? We have ridden hard and without pause for breath since we left for this cursed land. It is impossible that a warning could have outstripped us."

Colin sets his jaw and removes an arrow, allowing it to rest lightly between his fingers. He silently watches the Calormenes.

Before the gates of Anvard, Chlamash says in response to Ilgamuth, "Like it to have been one of their devils in the guise of a bird or some such sorcery."

Before the gates of Anvard, Anradin pulls up short at his Prince's signal and surveys the closed-up castle with a shrewd gaze, his face grave. He is silent for the moment.

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth casts a glower towards Azrooh. "It must be as Chlamash says. You know as well as I do that these lands are filled with sorcery. It is the only explanation. In any case, the element of surprise is clearly lost."

Tran's expression drains entirely of mirth as the invaders come into view. His grip tightens reflexively on his bow, and he slowly lines it up, ready to react. "Steady, men..."

Shar looks to his king.

Lune watches, moving forward to the wall. "They expected us to be caught unawares," he says quietly. "It may well be that we have already foiled them. I see no siege engines or ladders."

Cole moves to the wall's edge, frowning deeply as he sees the Calormenes approach. Clenching his jaw, he fingers the hilt of his sword as he watches in silence.

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash grits his teeth, eyes aflame. "Impossible or not, oh Tarkaan, I shall find the wretched dog, be he man or devil, who betrayed our advance, and upon that day he shall wish the sun never rose." His glare whips towards the others. "Surprise, sorcery, or not, we have not ridden so far to be dissuaded by the gates of the barbarians! I shall not lose the false jade to so flimsy a wall."

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh scowls at Chlamash's talk of demons, but holds his tongue as the Prince speaks.

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth watches the walls of the castle intently before saying in a slow, careful voice, "Of course, your Highness, we all realize the great depth of your passion, but I must tell you that our plan depended on factors of surprise and the barbarians' unpreparedness... Know then, O Prince, that we are unprepared for a siege, having with us no weapons such as catapults, nor the supplies needed for starving them out."

Colin nods almost imperceptibly at King Lune's words, silently fingering the shaft of his arrow.

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin's horse prances in place. "Such minor details, Ilgamuth! We can still take the city with our men. Let us get ourselves some Archenlander blood!"

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh snaps at Corradin, "The Tisroc, may he live forever, will not reward us for blood. The castle is the prize he would most desire. I for one would not wish to return without that precious booty, when he discovers our secret adventure."

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash, who had been looking at Ilgamuth with narrowed, though considering, eyes, casts a cold glance to Corradin. "Hold your peace, Tarkaan. I would know what Ilgamuth advises, for to turn back now would be to return in shame, and that I shall not do."

Dar takes his place at the wall as well, keeping his tone pitched low. "Two hundred or so, as we thought. This took planning--"

Shar acknowledges his son's words with a grim press of his lips.

Before the gates of Anvard, Chlamash holds his peace wisely to listen.

Lune watches the horsemen forming their ranks and lets out a soft 'hmm' of disagreement. "This is but the smallest fraction of the Tisroc's full force," he says quietly, keeping his eyes on the movements below. "A trifle to him."

Lanisen takes a deep breath, glancing at Colin. "I can't stand this waiting," he murmurs.

Tran murmurs, "Such a force, and with so little warning. What could have provoked this? And what will it take to convince them to give up?"

Cole looks to the King at this, brow raising a bit as he seems to consider this.

Colin's gaze slides to Lanisen and he nods his agreement, clasping his bow and arrow in one hand to enable himself to clap his friend gently on the back once to encourage him.

Darrin, at the King's side, rests his hands on the rampart and studies the Calormenes. "Not planning enough, if they thought only of taking us by surprise. They aren't prepared for any other possibilities."

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth taps the hilt of his sword thoughtfully, eyes still on the castle. "What we need now is to figure out what defenses this castle possesses, if we are to prepare for an all-out assault with what we have and what we can make. The barbarians must have watchers on the walls; they surely would have seen us coming. Perhaps we can send a small number under the pretense of making peace or some other such excuse. Should they fall for the ruse and open the gates, then we have achieved our aims and may storm the castle. If they do not, we lose nothing and gain some level of information, having seen the walls up close."

Dar inclines his head, conceding his king's point. "Given that they would have known what they would face here and that such a force is not likely to take this castle, much less hold it, and if their aim is neither to surprise us nor besiege us, then--"

Lune murmurs quietly, watching the many lights below, "What will you do, Rabadash?"

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh presses his lips together, forced to consider the wisdom of this suggestion.

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin taps his free hand on his crossbow. "And if they take the men we send and keep them captive?"

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash's scimitar blade flashes as he moves the tip in small circles and considers this suggestion. Finally, he nods sharply. "As you have said, oh Ilgamuth, let it be so done." He glances around the Tarkaans gathered, choosing whom to take... then looks towards Corradin. "Upon my visit to these lands of the north, it was made clear that these barbarians value honor beyond wisdom." His lip curls into a sneer. "Know, then, they shall not harm nor lay threat to those who come under the banner of peace."

Shar leans back against the rampart. He frowns at the pretty words of the Calormene below. Though his weight is against the wall, there is nothing but alertness in his mien.

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin laughs loudly. "They are truly dumb barbarians, then."

Lune also laughs, though under his breath and without any mirth whatsoever. He puts both hands on the rampart and calls out, "Rabadash!"

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh tightens the grip on his reins. "Whom would you send for this parley, O Prince? As you have said, wisdom is the virtue most valued by the poets of war." He freezes at the sudden cry and looks out toward the castle.

Cole's gaze turns from the king to Rabadash, in the distance. One hand is on the wall and the other still rests on his sword. His eyes narrow as he waits for the reply.

Tran draws back his arrow, stretching his bow almost reflexively as his King bellows.

Colin places his arrow on the string and instinctively draws just a second shy of Tran's movements. He holds and waits.

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin instantly draws his crossbow up at the call from above. "If this is our plan, now is the time," he says quietly.

Dar's eyes narrow as his gaze fixes on the Calormene archers below, watching for the snap of a bowstring.

Lanisen flinches at the king's sudden bellow. He fits an arrow to his string and follows Colin's lead.

Darrin folds his arms over his chest and watches.

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash looks towards the wall as he hears himself addressed... and not by proper title. His scowl grows once more. "Ilgamuth, Azrooh, you shall follow. Corradin, hold the cavalry in readiness for my signal, should it be required." He rides forward, expecting his commands to be followed, and calls back.

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth inclines his head, being unable to bow while mounted on a horse. "To hear is to obey, O Prince." He urges his horse to follow as Rabadash rides forward.

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin says, "As you wish, O Prince."

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash says, "I, Prince Rabadash, am listening. What is it you wish to say?"

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh twists back in his saddle and relays the orders sharply to his cohort. "You'll know when the signal is given. When it is, charge as if I were whipping your hindquarters myself," he growls. He turns gruffly and kicks his horse to follow Rabadash.

Lune raises an eyebrow slightly as he responds. "We would hear what you have to say, rather. Why do you come to Our gates in armor, bearing weapons?"

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash glances briefly at his cavalry, then to Ilgamuth, then the castle. Sheathing his scimitar, he spreads his arms and calls back, "My business is with the land beyond yours, the fair Narnia, oh King. Armed we are, for the deserts are fearsome, and haste could not allow for gentler tactics."

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth's eyes scan the walls, taking in the details of the castle that he can see.

Lune glances at Darrin at this, his face grave.

Colin mutters under his breath so that only those in direct vicinity could hear. "Long-winded fellow..." He clenches his jaw.

Tran frowns. "And Narnia next. What is this insanity?"

Shar grunts with displeasure at the obvious lie.

Cole's frown deepens at the response, eyes locked on Rabadash.

Lune calls out, "Then what do you here? Why do you gather before Our walls, speaking warlike words among yourselves?"

Dar's expression grows increasingly severe.

Darrin raises a brow, lips thin, and remains silent, his eyes on Rabadash.

Before the gates of Anvard, Chlamash reins his horse in as it dances in eagerness.

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh rises stiffly in his saddle, shooting a dirty glance at Ilgamuth before looking to the Prince's lead.

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin's horse snorts and stomps the ground before it with a single hoof.

Before the gates of Anvard, Anradin shifts his weight backward in his stirrups, narrowing his eyes as he surveys the small, pale figures on the battlements.

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth returns Azrooh's look with a calm, level one of his own before going back to his careful examination of the castle.

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash's lips press together before he spreads his hands wide. "This land lies between here and there, oh King, and our steeds are weary from long travel. We sought rest, and I offer for what you may have heard that some among my number are warriors by nature. Shall you not come down and speak, as one of royal blood to another, so we may lay to rest these misunderstandings before the night has come in earnest?"

Tran releases a derisive snort, his grip on the bowstring tensing dangerously.

Colin snorts under his breath, not buying it for one second.

Cole grunts, shaking his head, his hand now clenching his sword hilt.

Lune murmurs, "Audaciously spoken."

Dar murmurs, "Then he has forgotten that we are allied with our neighbors to the North, and moreover he has sought to pass through your borders without your consent, Sire. Akin to a declaration of war in itself, for all that he claims peace." Dar's glance is still fixed below.

Darrin grits his teeth. "Do they think us fools?"

Lune calls out, "What purpose have you with Narnia in such numbers, then, Prince?"

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash is running out of excuses or anything resembling smooth words. "I go to greet the fairest of queens, for our farewell was too swift. My men I bring for protection, oh King. Will you not come to speak? For I weary of calling for all the world to bear witness."

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh looks up to take measure of the stars, grunting in irritation at the lateness of the hour already.
Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh mumbles "He ... one ... and ... has long since passed.", to Azrooh.

Lune calls out, "Well should the world bear witness! Return to your country, Rabadash. There is nothing for you here."

Before the gates of Anvard, Chlamash says, "The stars above mock us."

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash's eyes narrow and he grabs at his scimitar, unsheathing it to flourish skyward. "Nothing? Oh King of barbarians, there is a castle for me here!"

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh's eyes flash and he urges his horse a step closer to the prince.
Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh mumbles "... ... what ... plan, ... Prince. Further ... with these barbarians are ...", to Rabadash.

Shar straightens, lifting his hand, but not yet making the signal to attack.

Before the gates of Anvard, Chlamash says, "My Prince and Lord Tarkaans."

Lanisen takes a deep breath and tries to settle himself. He draws his bow, hands shaking.

Colin draws his bow string tight, holding.

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth puts a hand on his crossbow as Rabadash unsheathes the scimitar, watching the castle walls intently for any signs of their archers making a move.

Dar's hand goes to the hilt of his sword. He stands stalwart and unflinching at Rabadash's declaration.

Tran's gaze on the enemy never wavers as he cautions the others, "Stay true, friends. Not until the signal is given."

Cole's eyes widen as the king is addressed in such a way, his gaze turning dark and sword arm tensing. He awaits orders from the King.

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash nods curtly to Azrooh's words, wheeling his horse around to ride back towards the cavalry, giving the signal to attack. "For the barbarian queen, for the glory of Calormen, and for Tash! Take the city!"

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin raises his crossbow, scanning the walls for soldiers.

Before the gates of Anvard, Anradin surges forward on his steed, settling his bow into position and taking aim.

Lune lets out a sigh, looking weary in the moonlight, and backs away from the edge of the wall. He glances at Shar and says quietly, "On your mark, then, Lord Shar."

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth grimaces (more so that he already is), setting his horse to move while standing in the saddle, aiming at the walls.

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh satisfies himself that his soldiers are moving up before swiveling in his saddle and cocking his crossbow. "Form a line! Make sure no cowards can escape!"

Before the gates of Anvard, Chlamash exclaims, "FOR VICTORY! FOR GLORY!"

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth shouts to his men, "Into position, and should I see any man hesitate I will have you flayed alive!"

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin exclaims, "FOR TASH!" He takes aim and fires.

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh fires a crossbow bolt amid the archers on the northern wall!

Shar's eyes meet his king's for a moment that seems to stretch wide. He draws a breath and extends his arm in the signal to shoot. His gaze flits over his sons only briefly before he moves to command more directly the troop over which he has special command.

Colin lets his arrow fly.

Before the gates of Anvard, Anradin cries out, "The Eternal Tisroc!" and looses a bolt.

Before the gates of Anvard, several arrows fall upon the cavalry, and cries and curses ring out as a few find their marks in men or beasts.

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash sheaths his scimitar, pulls out his crossbow, orders his men... and begins to fire!

A double barb arrow flies in from the east, hitting Lanisen! The arrow tears right through Lanisen, and blood flies everywhere!

Lanisen staggers at the impact, but makes no sound. He stares down at the arrow suddenly protruding from his leg in confusion, and his grasp on his bow goes slack. His arrow clatters to the ground harmlessly.

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth aims and fires his crossbow.

A double barb arrow flies in from the east, hitting Lanisen! The arrow tears right through Lanisen, and blood flies everywhere!

Lanisen loses consciousness and slumps over as a second arrow pierces his shoulder.

Colin stops firing abruptly as Lanisen falls against him. "Lanny!" he says sharply, lowering him to the ground. "Blast..." he grinds out, face pale. He looks at Shar, his expression desperate, before he resumes firing.

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash gives a fierce grin as one of his bolts finds its mark.

Shar gives his men another command and moves to the fallen archer he spoke to before the battle ensued.

Darrin barely escapes a stray arrow as he steps back, out of the archers' way, and joins Lune.

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth takes aim and fires again.

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin draws back the string to his crossbow and places another arrow. "Die, you Archenland barbarians!"

Before the gates of Anvard, Anradin curses and fires off another few shots as the cavalry takes hit after hit.

Shar shouts for Colin to continue shooting. He attends the young man's wounds swiftly, breaking the arrows off, but not removing them for fear of bleeding. He bandages the wounds quickly.

Colin grits his teeth tightly, his face pale as he forces himself to focus on the rushing army. He fires one arrow after the other, not waiting for orders.

Tran releases several arrows into the fray below, his jaw clenched. He does not spare even a glance for what is going on around him.

Cole takes a step away from the walls, ducking quickly as a few arrows fly overheard. His attention quickly turns to Lanisen as he falls.

Lune says, as the first few arrows begin to fly, "Into the towers. We can cover the gates from there. Quickly, move!"

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash glances at the cavalry falling, lips tightening with dissatisfaction at the chaos in the ranks. His horse leaps to the side, narrowly avoiding a bolt aimed his way.

Darrin takes an arrow to the midsection with a grunt of pain, but the arrow seems to just graze his chainmail and clatter to the stone without doing any real damage.

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh snarls and kicks his horse into a gallop, moving in among the cavalry. "Use your shields, you stupid dogs!" He kicks at one of the soldiers that is staring up stupidly into the battlements.

Colin draws a ragged breath and lets loose another volley of arrows, moving his arm and sighting as quickly as he possibly can. An arrow skids off the top of his helmet and he ducks a moment, pressing himself against the wall to gather breath before resuming.

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth weaves back and forth on his horse as he readies his crossbow and once again fires. Despite his personal misgivings at the way the events have played out, orders from the Prince are orders and must be obeyed.

Tran's eyes turn to slits as he takes aim at the Tarkaan who is weaving about the cavalry. He closes one eye before loosing his arrow.

Before the gates of Anvard, another volley of arrows rains down from the castle's walls.

Shar gestures for his men to do as his majesty says, then lifts Lanisen's limp form and carries him into one of the towers.

Lanisen groans softly.

Before the gates of Anvard, Chlamash jerks his horse to the side quickly as an arrow thuds into the ground. He takes a double barb arrow from his quiver and fits it to the crossbow. He draws the string back, firing at the north wall.

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh's shield resounds with a clang as an arrow glances off it. He curses under his breath. "Hold them up, you curs!" Huddled over with his shield overhead, he nudges his horse in a weaving course toward Rabadash. "O Prince, our forces are too exposed down here. We must take more effective cover."

Before the gates of Anvard, Anradin's battle-charger prances restlessly as his master fires another round of arrows, then guides the horse into motion to avoid the volley of arrows.

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth calls out as he fires another arrow, "There are forests all around; that would make for a greater challenge to the enemy."

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin's horse lets out a cry as an arrow lands right before it.

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash, as he sees men falling and... well... the walls /not/, glances towards Azrooh, eyes flashing angrily. "Then it is fortunate, oh Azrooh, that there are trees aplenty beneath which to do so. To the trees!"

Colin crouches as a volley of arrows rain in his area. He watches Shar, then runs along after him, staying low.

The defenders split into two groups. Lune, Dar, and Darrin lead the first group into the north tower. Shar, Cole, Colin, and Tran lead the second group into the south tower, taking the wounded Lanisen with them.
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Continue reading this log in Part 2, or click here to return to the table of contents.

This is Part 2 of this log. Read Part 1 here.
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The defenders split into two groups. Lune, Dar, and Darrin lead the first group into the north tower. Shar, Cole, Colin, and Tran lead the second group into the south tower, taking the wounded Lanisen with them.

Upper North Gate Tower
]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
You stand in the North Gate Tower, and through the narrow windows you can see
off into the distance of Archenland. Here soldiers and knights can defend
Anvard, raining arrows down on any enemy who should approach the gate. There
is a door leading out to the northern wall walk, and stairs leading down to
lower levels of the tower.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[

Lune gives Darrin a quick scrutinizing look. "You were hit," he says. "Art well enough to continue?"

Darrin runs a hand quickly over his hauberk. "I am fine, Your Majesty," he says. "'Twas but a graze."

Lune nods, fitting an arrow to his bow. He aims down into the horde.

Darrin does the same, fitting an arrow to his bow and taking his place at Lune's side.

Meanwhile, in the south tower:

Upper South Gate Tower
]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
You stand in the South Gate Tower, and through the narrow windows you can see
off into the distance of Archenland. Here soldiers and knights can defend
Anvard, raining arrows down on any enemy who should approach the gate. There
is a door leading out to the southern wall walk, and stairs leading down to
lower levels of the tower.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh lands his boot into a few equine hindquarters as he screams, "You heard our Prince! Take cover with the trees! Keep firing!"

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash, once further back and under a little bit of tree cover (bare minimum), wheels around to fire again.

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth orders his soldiers back to the trees for cover, aiming once more at the castle and firing.

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash, as he misses, glares in /fury/ at a cavalry man that dared witness it before shooting again.

Before the gates of Anvard, Anradin rides for the trees, holding up his shield for cover as he goes, then wheels around and takes aim once more.

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin draws a bolt from his quiver. "Ah yes, just the one I was looking for. The poisoned bolt." He loads and takes aim.

Colin runs along, staying low. Once he reaches the tower, he looks at Shar and Shar's wounded charge before he positions himself, sighting and firing once more.

Before the gates of Anvard, Chlamash laughs quietly under his breath. He leads his men back to the cover of the woods with a cry before shooting again.

Cole follows quickly behind his brother, keeping as low as possible as arrows continue to fly overhead. Moving past Colin, he comes up to Shar. "How is he doing?" he asks hurriedly.

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash spies the King, far above in a tower, and aims that way. Unfortunately for the Prince, a common foot soldier gets in the way.

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh eventually makes it under a bit more cover, and takes a moment to survey the battlefield.

Shar lays Lanisen down in a safer locale. He issues some commands to the men, checking from time to time to see if Lanisen is yet well enough to be given instruction to retreat to the barracks.

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash, after having loosed a few more bolts, casts his eye around the Tarkaans. "Ilgamuth! To me!" he shouts.

Tran takes a moment at long last to see the injuries beside him. His lips compress to a line. "Shar," he says at last, "they are getting harder to hit as they retreat. Do we keep on?"

Before the gates of Anvard, Anradin surveys the cavalry around him as they continue to take arrows at a rapid pace, and switches tactics to begin shooting from under the partial cover of his shield.

Colin jumps and ducks down when an arrow skids off the stone wall near his shoulder. Out of breath, he closes his eyes and gathers himself, opening them once more to look over at his fallen comrade before he grits his teeth, rising and firing, trying to hit any target he can.

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth's horse rears suddenly as an arrow barely misses it, though he manages to calm the beast as Rabadash calls to him. He urges the horse towards the Prince at the summons.

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin exclaims, "Aim carefully, men! Be sure to hit your mark!"

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh frowns at Ilgamuth's summons, his lip curling in a sneer.

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash's horse dances to the side as bolts rain down, but he guides it to Ilgamuth. "You observed their wall, oh Ilgamuth," he says as he takes aim. "What of use did you see?"

Shar releases a breath through his nose and says for all to hear, "Steady your aims! Shoot only when you are able to take true aim. If they are harder to attack, so are we. Let us not waste arrows."

Tran takes aim and fires. He lets out a whoop as a Calormene soldier crashes to the ground!

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth hoists his shield over his head for protection from the arrows and says, "The walls are granite, which is notoriously strong. Furthermore, they seemed thick and sturdy. The weak point is the gates. The portcullis is iron, but iron is not impregnable. Of course, should we take out their archers, some ladders could be built and we could storm it in that manner. Ladders do, of course, take time to construct."

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh shakes his head as he trots over to the conference. "Had we ladders, they would pick us off all the more easily," he retorts. "We must break those gates. And Tash has blessed us with ample supplies for the task!" He gestures back toward the woods.

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash narrows his eyes, letting his men do their duty to fight and die for him while he debates. "Time we have little of. Continue to fire upon the archers..." He looks towards Azrooh. "How swift can a ram be made?"

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh shrugs. "Time enough that we should retreat. We should conserve our numbers for one decisive attack, so that our forces might keep the ramming soldiers shielded."

Tran aims and fires again.

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth shoots Azrooh a glare. "Some would stay on the ground and provide covering fire, and once at the top, the archers may be taken out with swords as well as bows. A ram would also need covering fire, may I remind you, as those doing the ramming would be just as vulnerable as those on the ladders." He pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "To make a ram, a tree would have to be felled. This will, without the proper equipment, take a lot of time; then there is removing it of the branches and making it suitable to handle, all of which is not a quick or easy task."

Colin sights carefully, taking aim and loosing another arrow.

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh snorts at Ilgamuth. "Very well, build your ladder then. And I welcome you, O noble Tarkaan, to lead that unfavoured charge!”

Before the gates of Anvard, a broadhead arrow flies toward the Calormene force. Somebody yells, and there is a small commotion as horses shift and whicker uneasily in response.

Before the gates of Anvard, Chlamash asks, "Oh my Lord Prince, what if word should get to the Narnians? Might they not gather their strength and ride to the aid of Archenland? Should we not conserve our forces?"

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash eyes Ilgamuth, all possible earlier favour looking to be fading. "And the making of a ladder is easier? The ram is swifter work, and we must not linger here long, else the barbarian queen shall land." He hears the yell and his lip curls in disdainful anger. "A ram we shall make tonight; the moon is full enough to work by. Summon your men! We shall take rest in the trees." To Chlamash, the haughty Prince replies, "Take your men and make watch of the castle tonight. Shoot any bird to leave, and slay any man to run. Do not let word spread beyond the walls!"

Before the gates of Anvard, Chlamash says, "It shall be my pleasure, oh Prince..." He grips his crossbow tighter.

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth casts one last glare in the direction of Azrooh before saying, "As you wish, O Prince..."

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh cannot resist a gloating grin at Ilgamuth when Rabadash announces his decision. "To the trees! Regroup, all of you!" he yells as he kicks his horse into motion.

Before the gates of Anvard, Anradin promptly turns his horse and forms up the ranks of the men under his command, ordering a retreat under cover of shields and the trees.

Tran calls, "Shar, look! Do you see? They're moving off..."

Shar exclaims, "Hold off!"

Cole keeps low, peering over the wall as he watches the archers fire. Seeing the ceasefire and the retreat, he slowly stands to full height. "Indeed they are... Best be on our guard, though. Who knows what they will try next. "

Colin has another arrow ready to fly, but holds, allowing his bowstring to relax as he watches the soldiers, glancing anxiously at his fallen comrades.

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin shouts to his men, "Regroup! Move further back into the trees!"

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash pauses just long enough to grit his teeth towards the castle. "The barbarian dogs shall weep beneath my feet ere the next rise of the moon." He glances once more at Chlamash. "Should word spread, oh Tarkaan, know that it is your skin that shall feel the wrath of the descendant of Tash. Surprise has failed once; I shall not allow it to fail again." He ignores the drama of Azrooh and Ilgamuth.

Before the gates of Anvard, Chlamash bows as deeply as one might while astride. "It is an honour to serve you, O Prince," he says. "May the gods grant you favour, and the barbarians rue this day henceforth for all eternity."

Shar says, "Sir Cole, go to the east tower and ask instructions of the king.”

Cole watches the retreat but a moment longer before nodding and running off in the direction of the King.

Meanwhile, in the north tower:

Upper North Gate Tower
]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
You stand in the North Gate Tower, and through the narrow windows you can see
off into the distance of Archenland. Here soldiers and knights can defend
Anvard, raining arrows down on any enemy who should approach the gate. There
is a door leading out to the northern wall walk, and stairs leading down to
lower levels of the tower.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[]-[

Lune lowers his bow as the Calormenes begin to retreat. "Thank the Emperor," he breathes, and glances around at the other men sharing the tower.

Darrin lets fly one final arrow and lowers his bow, his brow creasing. He wipes sweat from his forehead with the back of one arm and looks to the King. "Excellent, they're retreating," he mutters.

Lune says, "For the moment." He watches the treeline, and says, "I want double the men on watch tonight. I do not trust Rabadash not to try something during the night."

Before the gates of Anvard, Ilgamuth calls out to his men, ordering them further into the trees. His orders are delivered more angrily and with more threats than strictly necessary.

Before the gates of Anvard, Chlamash turns, shouting to his men, "No one is to leave the castle alive. Any man or beast you see, be it mortal or demon, you are to shoot it at ONCE, or you shall learn true suffering in the mines!"

Darrin's lips twist at that and he snorts. "I would not put much past that Calormene, true."

Before the gates of Anvard, Rabadash, satisfied that his orders are being carried out, kicks his horse to a gallop, winding between the safety of the trees and glaring at the castle's firm walls.

Cole jogs towards the King and Darrin, flashing glances over the wall. "Your order, Sire?" he asks as he nears.

Before the gates of Anvard, Azrooh barks to his men, "Form a line. No creature crosses it this night, not even beasts that flap or slither, or I'll have your hides by morning, by the gods! You two, come with me. Keep your eyes sharp for a sturdy trunk." He leads them deeper into the trees.

Before the gates of Anvard, Chlamash exclaims, "Let nothing distract you from this task--not might, nor fell voice, nor breath of chill wind. FOR THE GLORY OF THE EMPIRE!"

Before the gates of Anvard, Corradin shout to his men, "Keep moving, you swine! No one sleeps tonight! We have work!"

Lune repeats for Cole's benefit, "Double watch on all towers, and we will remain on guard." He pauses, glancing around the tower. "Bring the wounded within the walls. Those off watch, take what rest you can, but be ready. We are at war."

Before the gates of Anvard, Anradin urges his men, "Go! Halt not, you blind imbeciles, if you do not wish to breathe your last before the barbarian cowards who cower within the castle."

Cole nods. "It will be done, Sire. I will see to it right away." With that he turns quickly and jogs back the way he came.

Lune leads the way from the tower, grim-faced, supporting a soldier who took an arrow to the side. To another, he orders, "Fetch Master Adrian. Bring him to the barracks. The wounded can be tended there."

In the south tower, after Cole's departure:

Upper South Gate Tower
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You stand in the South Gate Tower, and through the narrow windows you can see
off into the distance of Archenland. Here soldiers and knights can defend
Anvard, raining arrows down on any enemy who should approach the gate. There
is a door leading out to the southern wall walk, and stairs leading down to
lower levels of the tower.
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Tran gestures to Deonyc to join him in covering the enemy. "I'll cover the left flank, and you keep a sharp eye out for the right. I don't trust this retreat. They've been foxy so far."

Shar says, "Sir Colin, for the moment you may look to your friend. Be ready, however."

Colin relaxes, sending Shar a very grateful look as he moves along the wall to Lanisen's side. He inspects the wounds the arrows left behind, assessing if he is safe to move. "Lord Shar... where are we taking the wounded?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

Shar says, "To the barracks. Let us not alarm those in the great hall. We will send a runner to fetch the healer. Wait to move him until we are sure we can spare you."

Colin nods and proceeds to unbelt his chainmail to get at his tunic, where he rips off a strip to hold to one of Lanisen's wounds that has begun bleeding through the dressing which Shar applied earlier in the fight.

Lanisen shudders slightly.

As the Calormene force disappears into the trees, Tran breathes, "They really have retreated. Has anyone passed word to the King? I think now might be the time for their war council."

Shar turns to Tran. "Lord Cole has gone to speak with him. I think we will leave a few armed scouts here and retreat to the barracks to tend our injured and give council."

Lanisen slowly wakes up.

Colin is looming over Lanisen, carefully inspecting the hasty dressings on his two arrow wounds. When he starts to move, Colin's pale face stills. "Lanisen?" he asks hopefully.

Lanisen stirs, but goes still immediately with a gasp. His face contorts with pain, and he cranes his neck to look at his shoulder. "Happened?" he croaks.

Colin's shoulders relax with a bit of relief. "Lanisen... if you didn't want to go back to Carmichael, all you had to do was say so, not get yourself shot twice," he says with a forced grin.

Tran nods solemnly to Shar, with a concerned glance down at Lanisen. "We have watch under control here. Take care of the fallen, don't worry about us."

Shar nods agreement with Tran's analysis. "To the barracks. Move carefully, as we do not yet have full understanding of the severity of the wounds."

Lanisen tries for a grin. His already-pale face goes even whiter, and his left hand claws at the floor. He breathes rapidly, staring at the ceiling, then remarks in a rasp, "I don't much like this."

Colin glances at Shar. "Would it be better to carry him?"

Cole quickly moves back towards the group. Seeing Lanisen awake now, he eases up slightly.

Shar says, "Truly, I do not know. Lanisen? Are you able to walk?" He surveys the Son of Adam. To Colin he says, "It seems you will have to." He gestures to another of the men to help Colin, then turns to Cole. "Sir Cole, what news?"

Colin motions to the man to move to Lanisen's unwounded side and looks at his friend apologetically before positioning to pick him up. "I'm very sorry, my friend, but this is going to hurt... I'll move as carefully as I can." He and the other man make a sort of chair with their hands and neatly lift the wounded man.

Lanisen groans as he is lifted, gritting his teeth and panting short gasps of pain. "Colin--"

Cole looks to Shar. "We are to double the men on watch tonight and bring the wounded inside the walls. Other than that..." He lets out a breath. "Be on our guard, and those /not/ on watch should get some rest."

Shar says, "Tran, will you command the first watch? I will come to relieve you before the moon is high. I wish first to speak with his majesty."

Colin grits his teeth, wincing on behalf of his friend. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He looks at the other man and they keep Lanisen well balanced, moving quickly yet carefully.

Tran nods gently to Shar. "Of course. His Majesty should hear. We've got this wall covered."

Shar says, "Thank you. I will relieve you before long."

Cole lets out another breath, running a hand through his hair and watching as Shar walks off. "I think I will take the first watch as well. I will go see to the gate itself and make sure there are no Calormene dogs snooping around."

Tran remains behind to command the watch while Cole descends to the castle's outer ward to make his inspection. Shar, Colin, and those not remaining behind on watch carry Lanisen and the other wounded archers below. Together with the king and the brothers Dar and Darrin, they assemble to tend the wounded and conduct a council of war.

Army Barracks
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You stand in the barracks belonging to the Army of Archenland. Here is where
the men reside when not on campaign. There are many bunks along the walls
and at the foot of each bunk is a foot locker. The barracks is neat and
tidy. Arrow slot windows facing out allow for defense and provide light.
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Lune is working alongside several soldiers to tend to the wounded and get them situated comfortably. There are comparatively few wounded, all things considered, and the castle healer and his underlings exude quiet competence. The room is an urgent bustle, but orderly.

Colin enters with another one of the men, who is helping him carry a wounded but very much awake Lanisen into the barracks.

Lanisen has his jaw clenched tight and his eyes squeezed shut, trying to distance himself from the pain as Colin and the other soldier carry him in. His breathing is ragged, and he is deathly pale.

Colin and his companion get Lanisen to an empty cot, where they lower him slowly and carefully. Colin motions for the castle healer and makes it clear that he should look at Lanisen as soon as possible. While the other man returns to the battlements, Colin parks himself there for a minute, helping Lanisen stay as comfortable as possible and assisting where he can elsewhere.

Shar descends the stairs and enters the barracks, seeking out the other knights and nobles.

Lune gets a wounded soldier settled, claps his shoulder gently, and turns toward his lords. He looks at each of them, searching for injury.

Lanisen settles into the cot, the hand of his unwounded shoulder clenched white-knuckled around a handful of his gambeson.

Colin takes his helmet off and runs his hand through his damp hair. There's dried blood on his armor and face from his friend's wounds, but he displays no injury of his own other than a bone-tired weariness.

Shar moves toward his two sons. "You are both whole. There is something to be thankful for in that." His eyes move to the visible mark in his youngest's armor.

Lanisen asks Colin, "Sir? Did we win?"

Dar comes to stand alongside Darrin. He eyes his brother's armor as well. The fact that he allows his concern to register in his expression speaks volumes. "One of us, at least--", he says in answer to his father's statement.

Colin looks down at Lanisen and crouches at his side as the healer takes his turn tending to Lanisen. "For now," he says with a slight smile that doesn't quite chase the grimness away. He looks about the room at everyone present.

Lune asks, "Has word been taken to those in the hall?"

Lanisen gives the healer a dreading look and tries to steel himself.

Darrin glances between Shar and Dar with a similarly assessing glance before he cracks a half-smile, raising a brow at his brother. "Am I to take it you're wounded in some hard-to-see place, then?" He brushes his fingers over the dent in his armor unconsciously, but looks on the whole rather unharmed.

Tran slips into the barracks, making an unobtrusive bow to the nobles before taking a position nearer to Shar.
Tran mumbles "Cole ... taken ... for me. Have ... missed ... important?", to Shar.

Shar takes his youngest son's shoulder, looking to give him a sort of stoic pat, but drawing him into a not-quite-crushing embrace instead. He speaks over his son's shoulder to Tran. "No. Has word yet been sent to the hall?"

Tran shakes his head and replies to Shar quietly, "I do not know. Are there more we should send for in this council?"

Darrin returns the embrace after a moment of surprise, moving to pat Shar on the back.

Shar releases his son. "We should at least send for the healer.”

Dar raises a brow even higher in return, his expression mirroring his younger brother's. "You cannot be seriously injured if your quips are still that sharp, Darrin. Only my pride, perhaps, at not taking the arrow in your place, and that is trifling enough that it will bear the injury. You will have the scar and the story to tell to go with it." His words are light, but his relief at finding Darrin not seriously harmed is palpable. When his father releases Darrin, he clasps his brother tightly on the shoulder in his own version of the embrace.

Tran's brow raises. "The healer has not been sent for yet?" He moves immediately to the door and has some words just outside.

Darrin's nose twitches slightly. He says, "I'm fine, truly," but doesn't object when one of the healer's assistants bustles over and guides him to sit on a cot. He gives a small sigh at the examination and then smirks at Dar. "Now you get the idea. Though I doubt, honestly, there will even be much of a scar."

Tran returns a moment later, shaking his head when he spots the healer already in attendance. "Well, that's a relief," he shares with Shar a private smile.

Colin stays silent in all the going-ons, taking advantage of the moment to catch his breath.

Dar's mouth twitches. "There are easier ways to convince Master Doel to let you out of sparring practice, little brother." He hands the healer's assistant a clean cloth when requested and stays nearby, distracting Darrin as the healer probes, examines, and cleans the injured area.

Shar sees that his son is well cared for, and then moves to his king.

Lune waves off a healer's attendant. "You all," he says, turning to make eye contact with each of the wounded, "have comported yourselves admirably this night. I thank you." And he dips his head in respect.

Darrin sends Dar an amused look and then hisses when the wound is prodded a particular way. He grits his teeth for a moment and grips the edge of the cot. A second later he's visibly relaxed again and he says, "Ah, but where would be the fun in that?" At Lune's words, his expression sobers marginally and he offers a half-bow that has the assistant clucking at him in vexation.

Tran's gaze dips, looking somber as he surveys the wounded.

Colin sits with his arms on his knees, watching the healer quietly and carefully tend to Lanisen while he listens silently to his uncle the King.

Dar straightens to his full height and turns his attention back to his king when Lune begins to speak, his features returning to their typical seriousness.

Shar's eyes flick toward his son at the audible pain.

Lune turns to regard his lords. He lets out a breath. "It has been long since the lords of this country came together in a council of war," he says softly. "But we have always known that we must be ready, and so I must call on you now."

Lanisen stays very still, silent and rigid on the cot as the healer works. He stares fixedly at the ceiling, and tears of pain leak from the corners of his eyes.

Tran holds himself a little straighter, nodding silently as if his commitment could ever be in doubt.

Shar says, "I find it a strange assault, your majesty. If they have drawn off because they expect aid, we will have many more wounded before our gates are safe."

Lune says grimly, "We can expect no such aid." He paces, rubbing a hand across his beard. "Would that we could warn Narnia..."

Darrin's expression settles into a more somber one as he listens, the healer's assistant finishing with the bandaging.

Dar considers. "It might be possible to send word--", he states quietly. "It could be attempted, at least."

Lune glances at Dar, listening. "Go on."

Shar looks to Dar.

Colin lifts his head a bit to listen.

Lanisen goes limp with relief as the healer moves on without doing anything too terrible. He stays quiet, trying not to move.

Dar continues, "A coded message, perhaps. You were right to point out, Your Majesty, that Tashbaan could have ranged a much larger force against us. They cannot have expected to reach Narnia without resistance, and once there, Prince Rabadash is not such a fool as to think that the Kings of Narnia would allow their sister to be taken without great loss to anyone making the attempt. Either he has come north without the Tisroc's knowledge or--" More slowly now, he adds, "We are meant to think that is the case. The Tisroc could then deny knowledge of Rabadash's actions without risking retaliation. Either explanation means that Rabadash cannot summon aid from Calormen without revealing himself to the Tisroc or without revealing the Tisroc's complicity to us. He has suffered injuries among his ranks. If we offer basic aid as a gesture at ceasing hostilities--and, I might add, as a show of your magnanimity, Sire--it would be possible to smuggle out a message in the process, if it was done carefully."

Tran looks dubious. "It's possible, although I should point out your Majesty that the forces I saw today were rashly commanded and deployed. Some of their commanders were downright vicious, and eager for quick victory. This venture that you suggest, Lord Dar, bears the risk that this dog will simply snap up any treat offered to it, and the hand along with it. If we proceed, I would also suggest that we prepare a frontal attack of our own. The Calormenes have already begun siege preparations, and I cannot swear to it but I thought I heard them speak of trying to ram our gates. We might not be able to afford to wait for any aid that might come."

Shar says, "That is what I fear, Lord Tran. Should they appear next with ladders or ropes we will need all our men and a sharp command with sharper eyes."

Darrin puts his elbows on his knees and props his chin in his one hand. "If the Calormenes are even inclined to accept aid of any sort in the first place," he says, nodding after Tran speaks. "Judging from their remarks today, I'm uncertain as to whether their pride would even allow such a thing from us 'barbarians.'" He says the word with distaste.

Colin adds his voice to the mix. "What if our attempt at getting a messenger out was discovered and foiled? We'd ruin any further chance at attempting to deceive them if the opportunity presents itself. And who do we risk sending and losing? We need every man we have."

Dar asks, "But will they? We saw nothing today that suggests they brought with them any ladders or siege equipment. And do we not also have an obligation to warn our Narnian allies of what may be coming against them, if it is possible to do so without depleting our own forces? It is precisely their assumptions that we are, as my brother has put it, barbarians, that we can use to effect. We must consider what they will not expect from us--"

Tran purses his lips, conceding some of Dar's logic.

Lune listens carefully, his brow knit, and seats himself on the end of an unoccupied cot. "We will speak of aid and good faith when they have laid down their weapons and not before," he says quietly. "We will not open the gates." He glances at Dar. "How long can we withstand a siege, by your reckoning?"

Dar calculates. "Given the number currently sheltered within the castle, we can hold out without difficulty for at least a fortnight. During which time, of course, they may determine the castle is too difficult to overcome and turn their attention to some of the neighboring cities." He glances to his father at this.

Shar says, "Surely two hundred could not sustain such an attack."

Darrin frowns at the mention of attacking towns, but remains silent for the moment.

Lune says, "We cannot know that this is the only force sent." He rubs his forehead and sighs, then drops his hand. "How many men can still fight, and how many horse?"

Dar shakes his head in response to Shar's statement. "I think they cannot outlast us, should we dig in here. Their plan depends upon reaching Narnia before a warning can be sent. They must act, and act swiftly. Provided that they are not expecting aid, but the Tisroc cannot openly support Rabadash unless he wants war, either with the lords of Archenland or with Narnia. He is far more subtle than that. I am convinced that Rabadash has to be here without the Tisroc's consent or that the Tisroc will withdraw his backing of Rabadash if it becomes costly." He turns back to Lune. "Fifty at last review, Sire, and perhaps mounts for half of those in fighting condition."

Tran nods to Dar's assessment and turns to regard the king. "And most of those men in fresh condition, Sire, ready to mount whatever defence is required."

Shar says, "I think we may need to meet them on the field on our terms. Before they do call in reinforcements. It will be sore for us if we estimate the Tisroc's dedication wrongly."

Darrin says, "I agree, particularly if, as my brother says, there is a chance they will attack the surrounding countryside and those who were not evacuated in time."

Lune says, "Were it not for those left defenseless in the keep should we fail..." He shakes his head. "But no matter, if they do mean to bring a ram to bear."

Lanisen falls at last into a fitful sleep, his breathing quick and shallow.

Colin stays silent, listening to the exchange.

Dar's gaze once again seeks out his father before he says to Lune, resoluteness in his voice, "Even were I not bound by honor, Sire, I would, upon your word, take up arms to defend this land and your person. I am a man of words, as you know, with little love for battle, but I will fight to the last."

Shar says, "As shall we all, if it comes to that, your majesty."

Colin nods his agreement.

Tran exclaims, "So say we all!"

Darrin straightens and nods, his eyes flashing.

Lune holds the gaze of each man, then nods slowly. "So be it, then," he murmurs. "Whatever the morrow holds, gentlemen--I am honored to have you at my side."

Tran maintains his grave expression and bows to King Lune from the waist.

Shar dips his head in a bow as well.

Colin rises to his feet, helmet still held in hand as he bows to his uncle respectfully. "I'm honored to fight with you all... be you knight or common man. I consider you all my brothers at this time."

Dar stands straight and unwavering as Lune's gaze falls upon him before making a deep, courtly bow to his liege. "For Archenland and King Lune, long may he reign", he states somberly. "And for those who are not here to stand with us."

Darrin bows his head, aborting an attempt at any deeper of a bow as the healer's assistant still hovering nearby sends him a sharp glance.

Lune smiles faintly, weary but proud and unbent. "Take what rest you may," he says. "I shall have need of you all tomorrow."

Shar lifts his head and turns to assist his sons in preparing their cots.

Colin turns back to the dozing Lanisen and motions for the healer, whom he starts to discuss things quietly with.

Darrin turns his attention to his brother and father as the council disperses.

Dar sees that Lune's cot is made as comfortable as possible before returning to his own. His mouth quirks upward into a very faint smile when he sees that Shar has already seen to that for him, giving his father a grateful nod. He produces one of his many ubiquitous pieces of parchment from the pocket of his tunic, along with a quill pen. Attempting to make his tall frame fit comfortably into the narrow cot takes a few moments. "I thought I would write a few lines to Honour and to mother as well--" He does not add the 'just in case', but it is there beneath the surface of his words.

Shar returns the words with a quiet nod.

Darrin eyes the sudden appearance of parchment and says, "Always prepared." His tone is softer than usual, however, lacking its usual undercurrent of mirth.

Dar wordlessly extends a few of the sheets, along with his spare quills, toward his father and his brother in case they wish to join him. "You do know me", he replies to Darrin.

Lanisen shifts in his sleep, jostling something that shouldn't be jostled, and starts back to full wakefulness with a cry.

Colin's hand shoots out to touch Lanisen's uninjured shoulder. "It's all right. Healer's here. We're gonna take care of those arrows," he says in quiet tones.

Darrin gives a shrug with a ghost of a smile and takes the proffered parchment and quill thoughtfully.

Lanisen, disoriented and hurting, repeats, "More--more arrows? How'd I--" He breaks off, moaning.

Shar takes the parchment offered him with some visible hesitancy. This is not where his strength most lies.

Colin reassures Lanisen. "It's all right. You don't have more... just the ones from before." He looks at the healer. "Can we give him something to help?"

Adrian nods and instructs one of his assistants to put together some type of herbal concoction and bring it over when it is ready.

Lanisen's left hand wanders to his right shoulder, feeling at the bandage over the wound. He looks bewildered and horrified.

Dar bends his head over the parchment in front of him, his quill moving rapidly as his thoughts form. He lingers a few moments over the letter he has composed to his wife before signing it and, as soon as the ink is dry, folding it and putting it into his tunic pocket. "Sometimes there are simply not words enough", he concludes.

Shar sets aside his writing unfinished, instead going to Sir Colin's side. "How fares our friend?"

Colin watches Adrian administer the concoction when his assistant brings it. The healer holds Lanisen's head and helps him drink some of the herbs. Answering Lord Shar, he says, "Not too well... we're going to remove the arrows. He's hurting." He clenches his jaw slightly.

Lanisen objects to the draught and pushes away the glass weakly. "What're you--what're you doing?"

Shar looks to Adrian for sign of the boy's chances.

Darrin twists the quill in his fingers for several minutes before he composes a short note, only a few lines. He frowns at the words and then lets out a breath, deeming them sufficient. It appears he is resisting the urge to doodle in the margins while he waits for the ink to dry. When Dar speaks, Darrin glances at him and offers a quiet, "Hm." He sets the quill aside finally and looks over at the group around Lanisen, fingering the edges of the bandage around his middle.

Colin does what he can to help. He kneels down on the ground and gets close, right where Lanisen can see him. "Hey, you need to drink this. It'll help. We're right here, I'm not gonna let anything else happen to you. We need to get you sewed up," he explains, hoping that Lanisen can understand in his state of mind.

Dar runs a hand through his hair, glancing up to consider his brother. "Adrian can get you something to help with that", he says evenly, "if you are in pain--"

Darrin blinks and looks back to Dar. "What?" he asks, brows drawn in confusion and then rising again when he notices his hand on the bandage. He frowns and drops his fingers to the blanket underneath, shaking his head. "No--it's not bad. I'm fine." He pauses, then adds, "Lucky."

Lanisen blinks at Colin a few times and up at Adrian, focusing. "I'll drink it myself, please," he says, clearer. "Help me sit up?"

Colin nods and clasps Lanisen's good arm to help him.

Shar says, to Colin, in case the young man may be intimidated by so much attention, "Many would not bear it so well."

Dar inclines his head, accepting Darrin's words as stated. "You have grown", he observes. At the mention of luck, he glances over toward where Colin and his father are seeing to Lanisen. "Indeed--", he adds quietly, ready to assist if necessary but not yet moving to do so.

Lanisen has gone white with that little motion. He bends his head down, breathing rapidly, then reaches with his left hand for the glass.

Darrin's eyes wander toward the King and he adds, "In any case, I should prefer to remain clear-headed." The only sign Dar's compliment is heard is a small upward flick of Darrin's lips as he returns his gaze to his brother.

Colin nods his agreement, helping hold the glass steady so Lanisen can drink the herbs without dropping them.

Lanisen stops about halfway through, gagging, but he perseveres through and at last pushes away the empty glass. He takes several deep, shaky breaths and nods.

Dar nods again. "We will all have need of clear heads come the morning. You kept your own thoughts close during the council, Darrin. What do you make of Rabadash's plans, from what we know?" The look he gives Darrin conveys respect, a recognition of equal to equal rather than elder brother to younger.

Colin sets the glass aside and helps him lay back down. After a little bit, Adrian is able to address the wounds without hurting Lanisen so much.

Shar, seeing he can be of no further help, turns away from the injured man, laying his hand for a moment on Colin's shoulder.

Darrin rubs at the back of his neck and considers this. "He mentioned Queen Susan," he says. "Two hundred men is a small force to besiege a castle, but plenty with which to surprise a small honor guard of Narnians. I don't think we are his primary target, else he would have been more prepared. What that means for us, I am unsure. It depends on how long the man is willing to linger here, how long we can hold him off, and what his reaction will be. He is a proud man. I doubt he will abandon this attack easily."

Colin looks up at Lord Shar, giving him a grateful nod.

Lanisen stays still, watching Adrian work with groggy apprehension.

Dar indicates his agreement with another nod. "Yes--he is committed now. And he is willing to risk a great deal for the chance. There was the visit that the Narnian royals made to Calormen--" Dar's brow furrows in thought. "You met Rabadash when you went to Narnia for the tournaments, did you not? What sort of man did he strike you as? Everything we know about him may help to predict his actions--"

The healer Adrian and his assistant work quickly and carefully to remove the first arrow from Lanisen's shoulder. Colin assists by holding Lanisen as still as possible.

Darrin nods, his expression betraying his dislike. "He is... slippery. All flowery words and carefully constructed statements and veiled intentions. At least in conversation. In the melee, he fought well. Still, this attack would betray a certain... lack of foresight, I would say."

Shar moves back to his cot, sitting to remove his boots. "Do not stay up so late discussing tactics that you have no strength when your minds are more needed," he advises his sons.

Dar considers the information his brother provides intently. He is so wrapt in contemplation that he looks a little guilty when his father returns. "Leave it to Father to have the wisest words of all in this matter--", he says to Darrin, his mouth twitching ever-so-slightly upward as he removes his own boots to follow Shar's advice.

Lanisen, herb-fuddled but more than sufficiently aware, grips Colin's arm with his good hand, trying to brace himself against what is to come. He screams and arches when the first barbed arrowhead comes free.

Darrin chuckles, a noise that is abruptly cut off when Lanisen screams. His lips draw together tightly and he casts a glance at Lanisen and Colin, a vaguely haunted look appearing and disappearing rapidly in his eyes. "Aye," is all he says when he turns back to Dar and Shar. He starts preparing for rest himself.

Colin's mouth makes a thin line as he assists the healers, leaning across Lanisen to hold him. He keeps talking quietly to him, trying to distract from the pain as Adrian moves on to the second arrow to be done with it.
Colin mumbles "... in there. ... through. ... doing great. I'm so ... sorry...they're almost ... just one more.", to Lanisen.

Dar is halted by the scream as well, right boot still raised above the floor. His countenance grows grave and the same haunted look appears in his eyes, creating, for just an instant, a sympathy between the brothers' dissimilar appearances.

Lanisen struggles despite himself, crying helplessly. "No no no, not yet, not yet--" he begs when he feels them begin on the second arrow, then breaks off with a muffled scream, biting down on his own sleeve.

Colin grits his teeth, holding him down with his weight. "Be over soon." He watches Adrian closely and when that last wretched arrow is removed he lets up, hand still clamped on Lanisen's shoulder.

Darrin lies down on his back, which, judging by the ginger way he folds himself, may not be his preferred sleeping position. Or perhaps the wound is a tad more painful than he lets on. Either way, he lets out a breath and stares up at the ceiling stoically.

Dar's mouth is set in a firm line as he sets the boot on the floor beside its fellow and stretches out, his feet and ankles still protruding over the edge of the cot despite his best efforts.

Lanisen's head falls back with relief once it's over. He squeezes his eyes shut and covers his face with a shaking hand so he doesn't have to watch them wrapping the bleeding wounds.

Darrin shifts in an attempt to get more comfortable, but it is still some time before he falls asleep.

Dar has similar difficulty. It is some time before his breathing evens out, and even then, he only sleeps lightly.

Colin watches as the healers make quick work of cleaning, stitching where needed, and bandaging. He squeezes Lanisen's shoulder, keeping his voice low to not disturb those who are falling asleep. "Guess what, they're done," he says, his tone reassuring (and a little shaky at this point).

Lanisen nods. He swipes at his nose and tries to breathe properly. "/Lion/," he whispers, still trembling.

Colin nods, acknowledging his friend's intense pain. "I'm so sorry, Lanisen," he says after a time.

Lanisen takes deep breath after deep breath and shakes his head. "'S not, it's not--"

Colin squeezes his shoulder, running a grubby hand through his yechy hair. "What can I get you? Extra pillow? Blanket? Water?"

Lanisen shakes his head, closing his eyes, then changes his mind. "Water'd be nice," he admits in a rasp. "'S herbs 're gonna give me dragon breath."

Colin goes to fetch some water from a nearby pitcher. "Yes... well... I desperately need a bath, so we're even." He pours a glass and offers it.

Lanisen takes it and very carefully sips a little at a time. He closes his eyes, the adrenaline crash and the herbs starting to get to him. "Guess I'm--stuck here a while, huh."

Colin nods. "We'll have you moving about soon, though... something Adrian said... the wounds are in your arm and your leg, so in a day or two they'll want you doing some moving around. Apparently it helps the healing. It now makes sense why whenever I'd get busted up they wouldn't let me laze around for days on end."

Lanisen opens his eyes at this, wearily interested. "Meant the castle," he says after a pause. "Stuck in the castle."

Colin hehs. "Ah--well, that depends. We'll see what happens. I don't think it'll be for very long at all," he says, his tone bright and hopeful.

Lanisen frowns slightly, eyes slipping shut again. "Really, really don't like this," he mumbles.

Colin squeezes Lanisen's shoulder again, his expression wavering when no eyes are on him. "We're gonna get through this."

Lanisen asks, "Tell me 'bout the battle? What happened?"

Colin hehs, moving a bit closer so he can keep his voice low. "Well. We were sighting, and shooting a few arrows, and then suddenly there was this odd weight on my side as you flopped against me. Ever heard the expression, 'my heart was in my throat?' Well... that's a real thing. I nearly choked. Shar got you out of the way and safe and tended to you and yelled at me to keep firing. So I fired, a lot. Got a couple of nice dings in my armor. I honestly have no idea if I landed any good shots. Tran's an amazing archer, he felled several. I wish I had devoted enough time to training my archery skills... I think that'll change soon. We split up and were in the towers for a bit, shooting enough that the army started hiding in the trees. It made them really hard to hit, but we kept going, and they retreated. It... sounds like they're calm for the night." He says nothing further.

Lanisen goes gradually sleepier, listening to Colin's voice. "Didn' even get to fire any arrows," he mumbles, slurred and exhausted. "Practiced 'n practiced, didn' get to..." And he's out.

Colin pats his shoulder gently so as not to wake him. "Yeah... mate, if we get out of this mess, I'll take you bear hunting." He sits back, watching him sleep for a little bit, before he restlessly rises and leaves the barracks for a little while. After nearly a half hour he makes his way back in, a bit cleaner than he was before. Removing some of his armor, he sits against the wall by Lanisen's cot and is asleep before he knows it, sliding to the floor as the night goes.
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This is a log of all of the roleplay that took place among those who were sheltered within Anvard Castle during the first day of the siege.

The characters who appear in this log include Abrielle, Adeliha, Arael, Aren, Aryna, Avery, Cole, Colin, Dar, Darrin, Deonyc, Eston, Fionna, Johan, Lanisen, Lune, Meir, Philip, Sehsis, Shar, and Tyre.
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Andale
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You stand in the heart of Andale where most of the folk who support Anvard
live. Young children play here on nice days, skipping rope, or shooting
marbles, and older ones can be seen reading scrolls. Adults hurry through on
their way from home to where their business takes them. A well with a stone
wall sits on the western edge of the road.

The road here widens and splits to run toward the shops to the east, North
Andale to the north and the Crossroad to the south. Short paths lead to the two
settlements here; Het Noorden to the northwest, and Zuiden to the southeast.
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Adeliha is standing by the well, her dog by her side.

Aryna leans against the fence of one of the little cottages, keeping a close eye on her red-headed son as he plays with two other older boys. She chats eagerly with her friend.

Eston climbs down from one of the roofs, dusting himself off. He has a conversation with the owner of the house.

Sehsis walks into the square with Philip. "--Just a small pointer, nothing too major, but it tends to be best to not start off by calling them fat, accurate as it may be."

Deonyc waves at Sehsis and walks over towards him.

Adeliha continues to stand by the well, watching the goings and comings in the square. She does tip her head as she spots Sehsis as well, but remains where is she is, her dog sitting by her side.

The red-haired four year old tugs on his mother's skirts, drawing her down to whisper something in her ear. Aryna nods her permission and casts a laughing glance at Arael as her son takes off with the other blond boy, running down the road a little bit to play swords with sticks.

Philip follows on Sehsis' heel, head low. "Alright... I didn't mean to call her fat... She was just... so large..."

Fionna comes pushing her cart slowly along.

Johan sits down on one of the benches on the square, leaned slightly forward, supporting his head with his hands. He appears to be in deep thought.

Meir the horse master wanders into the area. He looks around at the huge group of people and just nods to them before taking a bite out of his hardtack and wondering what's going on.

Sehsis nods. "I know she was, but a little discretion is advised." He nods towards Deonyc.

Deonyc says, "Greetings, Sehsis, Philip."

Eston finishes the conversation with the owner of the house and shakes his hand before making his way towards the crowd, whistling a little tune.

Arael holds a yellow-haired little girl about the same size as Aryna's son. She is leaning comfortably back against the fence, and she grins in response to Aryna's look as the two boys run off.

Philip nods slowly. "I'll try that. Discretion..." He looks up as he hears his name. "Oh... hello."

Deonyc asks, "Sehsis, how come you came to Andale?"

Adeliha notices Eston walking into square. She makes her way over to him, her dog following. Her voice is a bit muffled as she greets him. "Good day, Eston."

Eston grins and waves to Adeliha. "Hello there!"

Aryna watches some of the unfamiliar people, her expression pleasant as she continues to chat with Arael. She clasps the fingers of the little girl, making her squeal with delight.

Fionna continues towards her house, pushing her cart full of weaving and limping slightly because of the weather. Under her breath, she mutters to herself.

Sehsis says to Philip, "At least you did not point out the scarf was the same colour as her face." To Deonyc he says, "The market."

Deonyc asks Sehsis, "Business?"

Philip sees Aryna and runs over. "Hello again." He looks at the little girl. "Is this your daughter?"

Adeliha asks Eston, "How is business?" She seems to not react to any of the noise coming from the square.

Eston says, "Picking up now the winter's coming."

Aryna blinks when she finds Philip at her side suddenly. "Oh, hello, lad... heavens no, I don't have a daughter." She laughs, glancing at Arael with a grin. She points up the road to the two little boys. "That's my son, the one who inherited my flame of hair." She smiles fondly.

Sehsis watches Philip run off with a shake of his head. "Hm?" He looks back towards Deonyc. "Ah, yes."

Deonyc looks over to Philip and asks Sehsis. "How come you brought him to Andale?"

Sehsis says, "Because he is my apprentice."

Philip looks down the road at the boy. "He certainly did. Sehsis has some scarves that are the same color as your hair. I tried to sell one today at the market... but it didn't go so well..."

Meir looks up when somebody says apprentice. "Apprentice? Of what? Oh, I'm Meir and I'm the local blacksmith and horse trainer."

Johan looks up from his deep thoughts and sees a lot of people in the square, including some familiar faces. He gives a quick wave towards Sehsis and Deonyc.

Adeliha smiles. "That good to hear. Business has also picked up for me as well."

Deonyc looks over to Johan and waves back.

Eston gives Adeliha an encouraging smile. "Hey, see! I told ya it would!"

Colin rides up the road on his black mount, galloping at a nearly dangerous pace. He draws Coalblack to a halt in the middle of the square. "Lanisen, the bell," he orders, out of breath. "Sound the alarm!" He remains on horseback, turning to survey the people in the area. "People of Andale!" his voice booms. "Danger is at our borders and coming straight for us. Your safety depends upon you taking refuge in Anvard as quickly as possible. You have five minutes to gather your belongings and your family." He urges his horse forward, approaching a certain house, where he dismounts quickly and starts up the path to help the family.

Eston's eyes widen and he says in a shaking voice, "What... what's going on? What danger?"

Meir blinks as he never got the answer to his question. "What's going on? Danger from who or what?"

Deonyc starts walking towards the castle.

Adeliha watches the man gallop into the square. She turns to Eston, alarmed at his facial expression. She mutters to him.
Adeliha mumbles "... ... ... ... ... didn't ... ... ...", to Eston.

Lanisen dismounts and jogs toward the great brass bell. With some effort, he gets the heavy clapper swinging, and an astonishingly loud, deep toll rings out across the town.

Philip looks up as the rider comes through. "I should go," he says to Aryna, and he runs back to Sehsis. "What happened?"

Johan stands up from the bench, walking closer to the source of the commotion. "What is going on?"

Eston looks Adeliha in the eyes so she can see his face clearly. "He says there is danger, that we have five minutes to evacuate."

Sehsis gives Philip an uncertain look. "Some kind of danger, I am not entirely certain. They're evacuating the town."

Adeliha looks momentarily shocked before becoming very matter of fact. "Where are we evacuating?"

Arael startles and straightens as the commotion begins. She turns and looks toward the knight, wide-eyed, and clutches the girl in her arms a little closer.

Aryna's face turns quite pale. She looks at Arael with alarm in her brown eyes. Turning on her heel, she runs a few steps down the road, calling firmly for Bern and Tadden to return. Both boys quickly obey and are at her side. She scoops up the red-headed boy.

Eston exclaims, "The castle, we have to get to Anvard!"

Deonyc asks, "Should we go now?"

Philip stays close to Sehsis. "Mum isn't going to be happy about this..."

Adeliha nods once, her eyes scanning the square. Seeing the weaver struggling with her cart, she walks over to her. "Ma'am, let me help you get to the castle." To anyone not familiar with her speech, it might sounded muffled, like she can't hear herself.

Colin turns to call out further instructions to Lanisen. "Lanisen! Start guiding the people along the road!" He turns to face the cottage, going through the gate. A young blond boy greets him and he puts a hand on Tad's shoulder, taking a few more steps before his eyes rest on the two women and all color drains from his face as he goes quite still for a moment.

Deonyc asks, "Sehsis, What's happening that we have to evacuate the village?"

Aryna grasps the little hand of Tadden and steps to Arael's side. She looks at Sir Colin, then goes inside the house to call for the others.

Lanisen leaves the bell. One more mournful toll booms out, then it is silent. "Hey, hey," he says, jogging to an older woman trying to carry three cats. "They can look after themselves, aye? What else you got? I can help you carry it."

Fionna turns to Adeliha. "Thank ye kindly, lassie, I'd be much obliged to you."

Arael stares back at Sir Colin, quite still, for a moment, before she turns and hurries after Aryna, calling out, "Laya!"

Sehsis shakes his head uncertainly. "I don't really know..."

Eston runs over to a family struggling with some small children and helps them with their belongings.

Adeliha smiles at the old woman, grabbing the cart from her. She keeps her eyes on the woman's face. "Do you have any family that we need gather?"

Deonyc turns on the spot, clearly overwhelmed with the whole situation.

Fionna says, "Aye. Me niece Merida and her brother Fin live with their mother just two houses over."

Johan turns to Deonyc. "Do you have any idea what is going on?"

Colin takes a deep breath and strides after Arael. He motions to Aryna to let go of Tadden, whom he then simply picks up. He watches Laya's family scramble to get themselves together. Turning, he calls out to the town again. "If you are ready, make your way to the castle as quickly as possible! An army is on our heels! Start moving now!"

Deonyc says, "No, this is sheer chaos."

Adeliha nods once. "I'll grab them." She notices Deonyc looking overwhelmed and calls to him, "You there, sir. Please help this woman as I gather her family." Without checking to see if her request was answered, she pulls up her skirts and runs to the house that Fionna has indicated.

Deonyc peers up ahead and says, "The crossroads are clear."

Eston ushers the family towards the crossroads, pausing as he passes by Lanisen to ask, "What's the danger? You both said our borders? Are we being attacked?"

Arael slips inside the door just as a wide-eyed woman opens it. She explains in hurried tones, "We've got to go--now. I'll fetch some blankets."

Laya takes her daughter as Arael hands her over and backs out of the way, looking around frantically until she finds her sons.

Lanisen bundles random belongings onto Maestro's back and urges people to hurry. "C'mon, c'mon, just what you can't leave behind."

Adeliha returns to the older woman with the family, looking a bit miffed that she is alone and not being helped. She begins to help them along, also ushering any stray children to their mothers.

Colin keeps an eye on the family and watches the town closely, hanging on to Tadden to keep track of him. "Ask questions later!" he commands, frowning as he squints at the sky. "Time is up! Let's go!" he moves into Laya's house. "I'm sorry... we need to go /now/." He looks at Arael, his expression urgent.

Arael nods, scoops up a stack of blankets, and darts back out the door.

Aryna takes one look around the house to make sure they didn't leave any children behind before she steps out, closing the door firmly behind herself and Laya. She moves to Arael's side, calling for Tad to stick close to her.

Adeliha continues to usher the weaver and her family towards the castle, her dog following behind.

Deonyc walks over to Sehsis and Philip. "Shall we head to the keep?"

Sehsis nods. "Yes..." Though still bewildered by the events, he follows the crowds as they leave.

Johan shakes his head slightly and decides to head for the castle as well.

Philip follows Sehsis.

Colin holds Tadden in one arm and reaches out to help Arael, his hand placed between her shoulder blades to guide her, as well as to keep tabs on her whereabouts. "Follow me or Lanisen!" He calls out the order to those who are left, and starts down the road, looking around constantly for stragglers.

Eston goes towards the castle, now carrying one of the small children.

Arael grabs Tad's hand and grips it tightly as they follow after Sir Colin.

Huddled together in groups, the townspeople make their way hastily down the road that leads to Anvard Castle.

Outer Ward
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You stand in the busy outer ward of Castle Anvard, full of people seeing to the
needs of king and kingdom. There are market stalls along the outer wall,
bustling with merchants and shoppers. Grooms work in the stables, tending to
the horses there, and you hear the occasional bark of a dog from the kennels.
The sounds of hammer hitting iron ring out from the blacksmith shop. There are
stairs leading to the gate towers on the northern and southern corners of the
outer curtain. To the east is the outer gatehouse, and the road leading into
the realm of Archenland, and to the west is another gate, leading to the inner
gatehouse, the inner ward, and the main keep of Anvard.
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Fionna gratefully grasps Adeliha's arm, thankful for the support as she limps along. The two women and the family they bring with them are the first of the commoners to arrive at the castle.

Darrin says, "Sire." He drops to the ground lightly and hands off his horse. At the King's quiet words, his head whips up to look around them with wide eyes. He frowns. "I had thought he was just behind, Sire." There is a touch of panic to his words.

Lune turns toward the gates, searching. He looks at every face, shaking his head slightly, and looks back at Darrin. The shadow of an old and terrible grief is on his face, but he straightens and with a great effort puts it aside. "Do not close the portcullis until the very nearest moment," he says, and turns to face his people.

Colin enters the gates, leading a group of the Andale townspeople. He leads his horse, which holds two young boys, and guides a particular family. "Everyone stay within the gates and await instructions, please! Stay quiet as you can while we sort this," he calls out to the people.

Darrin scans the crowd as well, his face grim, before he turns back to the King and nods. "As you command, Sire," he says. He steps aside, out of the way of the crowd, towards the soldiers manning the portcullis.

Adeliha helps Fionna over to a place to sit down, allowing the older woman's family to attend to her. She calmly watches the crowd, her eyes on the leader of the group.

Fionna quietly whispers thanks to her helper and checks to see that her family is all right. She hugs her grandniece and nephew close.

Arael is still pale and wide-eyed as she enters the castle gates. She sticks close by Aryna and Laya, and her eyes keep scanning and re-scanning the children to make sure they are all still near her.

Aryna holds her son tightly. She allows him onto the ground to stand, but keeps a firm hold on him as she presses to Arael's side.

Eston looks around at the massed crowd with growing confusion.
Eston mumbles "... no one ... to tell ... what's ... on?", to Eston.

Deonyc looks around, unsure of what to do.

Lune faces his people. He waits for the murmuring to quiet.

Philip stays close to Sehsis, trying to make room for the others.

Sehsis stays near the back of the crowd, making sure to keep an eye on Philip.

Johan leans against a stall near the crowd, waiting to hear what is going on, exactly.

Colin holds up his hand to urge everyone to quiet down. His horse moves its hooves, a little nervous with the amount of people pressing close to his flanks.

Lanisen quietly unloads people's things from Maestro's broad back, handing them out to their respective owners.

Deonyc walks over to Johan and stands next to him.

Darrin, to the side, rests a hand on his sword and watches the crowd settle. He speaks in a low tone to the soldiers near him and the gate.

Lune says, in a voice that is not particularly loud but still carries to everyone in the ward, "You have doubtless heard by now that danger marches on our gates." He glances at Colin and gives him a brief acknowledging nod of approval and thanks. "Rabadash, crown prince of Calormen, leads two hundred horsemen against us this night. They will be here within the hour."

Sehsis jumps at these words as if he received an electric shock. He backs further away from the crowd, his eyes wide.

Shar emerges from the barracks, where he has given the men perfunctory instruction. He moves in the direction of the gatehouse.

Philip tugs on Sehsis' sleeve. "Do you know him? Rabadash?" he whispers.

Deonyc walks over to Sehsis. "Did you know of this?"

Sehsis shakes his head quickly, unable to get any words out.

Colin watches the crowd sharply. Abruptly, he hands Coalblack's reins to Arael and moves to the merchant's side. "Quiet!" he orders everyone. "Your king is speaking!"

Johan notices Sehsis back away, throws a curious glance towards him, and steps a little bit closer as he spots Deonyc moving in.

Lanisen, having realized for the first time that Sehsis is in the crowd, looks alarmed. He glances quickly at Colin.

Eston frowns and briefly looks towards the Calormene, but he says nothing, paying more attention to what the King is saying.

Adeliha tips her head, not able to see the king from that far away. She grabs the nearest bystander and after speaking quietly to him, the man nods and begins to repeat the message to the woman. Her eyes widen briefly before returning to her normal matter-of-fact expression.

Lune's attention has been drawn by the small commotion. He gives the Calormene a long, level look, but does nothing more than to gesture for peace. "If you can wield a weapon, every hand will be needed to defend our walls. There is room in the Great Hall being prepared for those who cannot. You will be defended there."

Arael stands on her tiptoes and cranes her neck to see over the crowd as she listens to the King's words. She takes the horse's reins in an automatic motion when Sir Colin hands them to her.

Shar moves to Colin's side and speaks quietly to him.
Shar mumbles "Are there any ... ... the gates?", to Colin.

Eston nods to himself at the king's words, a determined expression crossing his face.

Colin turns his head slightly when Shar starts speaking to him. He responds, keeping his voice low.
Colin mumbles "Not ... ... ... aware of.", to Shar.

Sehsis shrinks back as the king's gaze falls on him, trying to make himself scarce.

Deonyc points to the Calormene. "Lords, what should we do with the Calormene?"

Johan walks closer to Deonyc. "Leave him alone, Deonyc..." He gives another glance toward Sehsis.

Lune looks at Deonyc and says, rather sharply, "That is not yours to decide. Hold your peace."

Deonyc bows his head. "Yes, M'lord."

Arael pats the horse's neck reassuringly as he dances nervously back and forth. Just then, a tall man with a worry-laden face presses through the crowd toward the family gathered around her. He snatches the smaller of the two boys off of the horse's back and holds him tight. Arael steadies the horse in its place as he does so, looking profoundly relieved and too occupied with her task to pay much mind to the commotion around her.

Lune commands, "Those of you who can wield a weapon, step forward."

Deonyc steps forward. "My sword is yours."

Shar nods to Colin's words and moves toward the gatehouse, where Lord Darrin is already standing.

Adeliha stands next to the man that is translating what the king is saying. Her eyes watch his face closely. If she has noticed the commotion that went on, she isn't showing it.

Lanisen glances at Colin, then takes an uncertain step forward.

Darrin nods to Shar and says something quietly.
Darrin mumbles "... believe that's ... of ... though we could ... ... ... ... the ... a ... ... two ... ... you ... ... ...", to Shar.

Colin catches Lanisen's glance and offers a slight nod, his expression grim as his friend steps forward. He also steps forward to stand at Lanisen's side, even though with him being a knight it's likely assumed he's going to be wielding something. He glances at the family he has been helping before facing forward.

The man who has just lifted his son off of the horse's back looks up and toward the King at this command. He sets the boy down, presses a kiss to each of his three children's foreheads, grips his wife's hand reassuringly for a moment, and steps forward.

Aryna's brown eyes widen as Colin, Lanisen, and Rannen step forward. She creeps closer to Arael, clasping her fingers with her own dead-cold ones.

Eston steps forward with that same determined expression. "I'll fight."

Johan steps forward silently, standing next to the others.

Deonyc turns to Eston. "I didn't think we'd meet like this."

A big, burly man who joined the crowd from the market nods with a glance to his wife before he steps forward.

Lune surveys the small crowd and nods. "Lord Shar," he says. "See these men kitted and armed."

Fionna grips her daughter's hand tightly as her niece holds her son tightly. A look of sorrow is etched on her face.

Shar begins to give his son instruction, but the King calls to him at this time. Instead, Lord Shar nods to Lord Darrin, and moves toward the crowd of men.

Arael grips Aryna's hand tightly with one hand while she hangs onto the horse's reins with the other. She looks to and fro around the marketplace, watching as the men--those she knows and those she doesn't--prepare for battle.

Philip frowns as he watches, his hand still gripping Sehsis' sleeve.

Darrin nods to his father and murmurs something in the negative when one of the soldiers asks him if the gates are ready to be closed. He scans the crowd again quickly, rubbing at the back of his neck, and steps outside the gates for a moment to scan the countryside. When he returns, he shakes his head, mouth set in a thin line.

Adeliha moves over to the older woman, giving her a small nod of encouragement. She continues to stand, watching everything going on.

Sehsis remains paralysed to the spot, eyes wide and in shock.

Shar surveys the men. His lips press into a line not unlike that on his youngest son's face, and he gives a sort of nod. "After me, then, all of you."

Shar leads the volunteers off to the barracks to be armed.

Lune makes brief eye contact with Colin and says to the remaining people, "The rest of you, follow Lord Colin to the Great Hall. There will be food prepared for you there."

Colin nods his head, taking his horse's reins finally from Arael and leading the mount to hand off to a stable man before rejoining the crowd. "Everyone else, follow me please." He repeats the king's orders.

Adeliha begins to help the nearest people follow Colin.

Lune gestures briefly to the Calormene man, beckoning.

Sehsis takes a calming breath which doesn't work and makes his way towards the king, in the manner of a man ascending the steps to the gallows.

Philip watches as the King beckons Sehsis closer. He takes a step forward to follow, but then looks unsure. "Sehsis! Where do I go?"

Colin reaches out to guide Arael's family once more, his hand lightly on her elbow to guide her along with everyone else. He reaches down to take the hand of one of the young boys, leading the way into the castle.

Sehsis stops, saying to Philip, "Go with the others..."

Philip frowns. "But...what about you?" He looks worried, but takes a step towards the others, turning around to look back at Sehsis.

Arael swallows and straightens her shoulders. She grasps Tadden's hand in her now-free one and follows the crowd through the marketplace.

Darrin continues to hover near the gate, hand on his hilt. He watches the crowd disperse, scanning individual faces as they go and continuing to frown, before he looks back to the King.

Sehsis says, "I'll..." he trails off and shakes his head, falling silent.

Lune gives the boy a reassuring nod and says quietly, "Go."

Philip looks at King Lune and nods slowly, running to catch up with the others.

Lune looks at the Calormene for a moment, sizing him up. "You need not fear," he says. "We shall not ask you to raise arms against your own country. However..."

Sehsis nods ever so slightly, remaining silent and not looking directly at the King, clearly still very fearful.

Darrin remains with the soldiers as the outer ward empties, mostly silent. He casts glances at the King and the Calormene every so often.

Lune pauses, briefly uncertain in the face of the man's fear. "You shall not be harmed, either," he says, more gently. "We do not account to you the deeds of your countrymen. But We will ask for your word that you do not mean to cause mischief inside the walls of Our palace, and to surrender any weapons on your person."

Sehsis gives a low, rather shaky bow and says quietly, his voice breaking somewhat, "I...I do not mean to cause any trouble, Your Majesty." He removes a small, curved dagger from about his person and drops it on the floor.

Lune repeats, quiet but firm, "Your word."

Sehsis says, "I give you my word, Your Majesty..."

Lune nods slowly. "Break it on pain of permanent banishment," he warns. "You may join the others."

Sehsis bows and says shakily, "Y-yes, Your Majesty...Thank you, Your Majesty."

Lune nods again and gestures for the man to go. He turns toward Darrin, a question in his face.

Sehsis backs away, then quickly heads to where the others went.

Meanwhile, inside the keep:

Inner Ward of Anvard
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You stand in the Inner Ward of Anvard. The ground is hard-packed earth, and it
is open to the sky above. Wonderful aromas come wafting out from the Kitchen to
the south, near the well. Huge, impressive, intricately carved doors lead to
the Great Hall. Staff hurry about, in and out of their quarters, serving the
Great Hall and the Council Chamber. A quieter corridor to the northeast leads
to the library and schoolroom. Noble lords and ladies also pass through,
walking towards their quarters seeing to other business. A guarded gatehouse
to the east stands between the inner and outer wards. Two stairways line the
curtain wall, climbing to the upper reaches of the castle.
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Tyre emerges from the hallway leading into the library. He carries a stack of books.

Avery is sitting on one of the benches. She looks up as she hears footsteps. "Dear brother," she says with a smile, standing.

Tyre says, "Lady Avery. Did you need me?"

Avery shakes her head. "No, not particularly." She looks at the books. "Are you busy?"

Tyre says, "The hunting party is meant to return tomorrow eve. I have some documents to prepare for the king until then."

Avery asks, "Will you return to your quarters, then?"

Tyre says, "I thought that I might. I find the library can be loud."

Avery looks a little disappointed, clasping her hands. "Oh... all right." She shakes her head, smiling lightly. "I do not wish to keep you any longer..."

Tyre looks about to respond, but his gaze lifts toward the gates as the sound of the town bell echoes through the hills.

Avery looks up as well, ringlets falling off of her shoulders. "The bells? What does that mean?"

Dar, followed by two couriers, dressed for riding and barely able to keep up with him, emerges from the hallway leading to the schoolroom. "You have your instructions. Take no unnecessary risks, but ride for Lancelyn Green and Coghill with all haste. They must be on their guard. This is His Majesty's command. The parchment with the Steward's seal should serve if any question you."

Tyre's eyes move to Dar as he enters the ward. He observes the instructions, and, when the couriers have left to do his bidding, Tyre approaches his cousin. "Lord Dar." He bows, awkwardly because of the stack of books in his arms. "What news?"

Avery steps forward as well, eyes on her cousin. She curtsies, awaiting his reply.

Dar straightens. He glances down at Avery, a brief flicker of concern showing beneath the mask. He does not mince words. "Calormene horsemen ride at speed for the castle. Two hundred at last count. His Majesty has sent Sir Colin to alert the town and to bring them here. Those were two of the couriers just leaving to warn the towns."

Tyre pushes his books into Avery's arms, an uncharacteristically assertive action. "Go to the Great Hall."

Avery gasps as Dar speaks. She almost drops the books, but she manages to right them. At Tyre's command, she nods and turns around, quickly making her way to the Great Hall. Before disappearing, she says, "Dar, Tyre, be careful..."

Tyre has already turned to Dar by this time. "What is needed?"

Dar is all business. "We do not know what to expect, but even if we are not facing a battle, we will need to care for the townspeople who take up His Majesty's offer. There will be supplies to organize. Defenses to shore up. A courier is leaving for Chesterton with the others. If you wish to add instructions of your own--"

Tyre asks, "He was instructed to tell them to gather in the manor?"

Dar nods soberly. "He was. And to muster the men in case of need. If we cannot hold them here--"

Tyre says, "Then perhaps I am best used here. Have the servants been told?"

Dar answers, "I was about to do so now that I have carried out His Majesty's orders. If you would care to--"

Tyre says, "I will be less useful at the King's side."

Dar's eyebrow raises. "Indeed. Thank you, Cousin." He sketches a bow and turns to go, his glance lingering briefly on Tyre. He opens his mouth to speak, thinks better of it, then says, "Take care, Tyre", his tone hinting at honest concern underneath. "Chesterton and His Majesty could little spare you--"

Tyre says, "I am, ahhh, perhaps in less danger than some."

Dar stays no longer, but, turning on his heel, goes to rejoin the king.

Tyre moves off in a different direction, toward one of the hallways.

Colin leads a group of commoners into the inner ward. "The Great Hall is down this way," he instructs.

Cole moves quickly out of the staff quarters, now completely dressed in his armor with his arms filled with blankets.

Colin looks around the ward, then calls out, "Lord Tyre!"

Tyre stops and swivels.

Dar steps around Cole's path, adjusting the top stack of blankets so they do not tip over. "Lord Cole--"

Colin motions at Lord Tyre. "I'm taking them to the Great Hall. When you are finished, could you please join me and help with the people?" he calls across the hallway.

Lanisen passes through, dodging people, and disappears into the staff quarters, then passes through again, hastily swinging his quiver onto his back.

Aryna continues to hold her son close, looking around anxiously.

Arael swivels this way and that, watching all of the comings and goings around her with wide eyes and clutching little hands tight to keep their owners out from under people's feet.

Cole pauses as Dar adjusts the blankets. "My thanks..." he returns, giving him a nod. Hearing that Colin is leading the commoners into the Great Hall, he moves to reach the hall before they do.

Tyre bows acceptance of the order and disappears down the hallway.

Adeliha continues to help the various families keep an eye on their children, waiting to go into the Great Hall.

Colin leads the group into the great hall, wasting no more time.

Great Hall
!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!
!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!
You stand in the most impressive room in Anvard, the Great Hall. It is hung
with tapestries on every wall, lending warmth to the vast stone chamber. High
windows allow a small amount of light in from the outside, but most of the
illumination comes from decorative sconces hanging along each wall. At the
northwestern end of the Hall you see a raised dais, where the High Table
stands. The purple and gold banner of Archenland hangs over the dais.
!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!
!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!

Philip enters the Hall, looking worried. He finds a spot along the wall and slides down to a sitting position, staying quiet as he watches everything that's going on.

Colin leads people in and starts helping them settle. "Lord Cole, what other instructions?" he asks, his expression focused.

Sehsis slips into the hall, trying to remain unnoticed.

Adeliha continues to help anyone who needs assistance into the Hall.

Cole moves over to one side of the hall, quickly setting down the blankets. Turning to scan those gathered, he lets out a soft breath before looking to his brother. "Make sure each gets a blanket..." He pauses, looking as if he is mulling over his next words. "And that everyone stays within the Great Hall for now."

Arael looks around the hall as it begins to fill with people and things. Spotting an empty place against one wall, she leans in to whisper to her cousin and Aryna, nodding to indicate the place she's referring to.
Arael mumbles "There... ... think we ought to get ... lads and Lara out ... ... way, ... you?", to Aryna.

Aryna nods her agreement and begins herding her son and one of the other lads over to the area Arael indicates.

Colin nods at Lord Cole's words and addresses the people, his voice much lower than outside but still powerful enough to carry to the whole room. "You all heard, so let that be clear. No one is to leave the Great Hall until you receive instructions otherwise from one of us... you're safest here. Make yourselves as comfortable as possible." He begins to approach the stack of blankets to start handing them out.

Adeliha watches the man speak, nodding her head. She walks over to him, giving a quick curtsy. "Sir, I can help pass out blankets too."

Tyre enters the great hall, servants trailing behind him. When they have all entered, he looks to Cole and Colin for a sign whether he ought to shut the door.

Cole catches sight of Tyre as he walks in. "Lord Tyre, is that everyone?"

Arael and her cousin get the remaining two children over to their place near the wall and sitting down with their backs against it. Once they are in place, she turns to look around and listen to the instructions being given.

Colin takes one look around the room. His eyes rest on Arael's family and he takes a long breath and lets it out before approaching Lord Tyre. "That's all those who I led in... I've got to get to the armory. May I leave them in your capable hands, Lord Tyre?"

Tyre looks nonplussed at "capable", but he nods to both Lords. "I believe so." He surveys the room uncertainly. "I will take it from here."

Colin looks once more over at the family of his friends and bolts out the door.

When the man leaves, Adeliha takes that as a sign to start passing out blankets. She begins with those closest to the pile, handing them out quickly and quietly.

Cole nods firmly at this, expression turning grim as he follows quickly behind his brother.

Aryna watches the Lords of Neiklot leave before she hugs Bern to her chest and sets him down, where he clings to her skirts. She looks at Arael, searching her face.

Tyre pushes his glasses up his nose as the Lords pass him and the door shuts behind him. He takes a breath, chest and shoulders rising visibly with it.

Sehsis takes a seat some distance away from everyone else in the room, not looking at any of them.

Arael stands in place as she watches the two lords go. When they are gone, she turns back toward Aryna and blinks twice.

Adeliha continues to hand out blankets, finally making her way to the family by the wall. She walks matter-of-factly, though she smiles reassuringly to the women.

Aryna makes sure all four of their young charges are nearby before she looks at Arael once more and murmurs quietly to her.
Aryna mumbles "... ... all ...", to Arael.

Arael takes the blanket and returns the other woman's smile when it is offered, though she still looks rather bewildered. As Aryna speaks, she turns back to her family and leans in to hear her better. She nods and replies.
Arael mumbles "Aye. Are ...", to Aryna.

Tyre gathers himself and approaches the woman who seems to have taken charge of the blankets. He takes up some of those that remain and begins to aid her in passing them out.

Adeliha jumps a little bit as the lord is beside her, not seeming to have heard him approach. She does another quick curtsy towards him, but still continues to hand out blankets, moving from one person to the next until everyone has one. She then walks over to Sehsis, handing him one. "Here you go, Sehsis."

Sehsis mumbles a thanks and accepts the blanket, though he seems unwilling to engage her or anyone else in any conversation, nor does he seem inclined to join the group.

Tyre walks between the grouped people. He clears his throat. His voice is thin and reedy, but somehow it seems to carry. "Those who have come to us ill, gather in the north corner. You will find the castle healer there and able to attend you."

Aryna nods her red head, though she bites her lower lip a little. "Aye, I am," she whispers, falling silent when the lord speaks.

Adeliha frowns a bit as Sehsis doesn't engage. Having no more blankets to pass out, she looks up, happening to see the lord speaking.

Tyre continues walking. "Those who can fight have gone to the wall." He pauses, not a natural speaker, and in need of time to process his own words. "We are well set up for such an attack, and have the good fortune to have received word. Our attackers did not expect this. It will not serve you to be afraid." Another pause. "Though you may find it unavoidable and I do not ask that you do as you cannot. Still, for the moment, we are safe, and provided for, and on this must we focus."

Arael listens quietly, biting her lip. As Lord Tyre speaks, she nods once and lets out a deep breath.

Adeliha leans against a pillar, watching his face closely as he speaks.

Aryna moves to the wall and leans against it, sliding down to sit on the ground with her back pressed against it. She gathers her little son to her knees and looks around, constantly watching the people.

Tyre looks above to the window, and abruptly drops off his speech, giving a small nod to indicate the end of it. He moves again toward the woman with the blankets.

As the lord approaches her, Adeliha straightens and curtsies at him. "My Lord." She keeps an eye on his mouth, though tries to be respectful about it.

Tyre lowers his voice to conversational calibre. "You seem to have a handle on these crowds. What is your name?"

Abrielle sits by Sehsis, trying to keep her cool by staring at the wall.

Adeliha answers quickly, though to someone not familiar with her speech, her voice sounds a bit like she can't hear herself. "Adeliha, my Lord."

Arael turns back to her family as Lord Tyre finishes speaking, lowering herself to the floor and crossing her legs in front of her.

Fionna glances towards the Calormene and whispers something to her daughter.

Tyre says, "The Lords of Neiklot prepared food and light it appears. These will need to be rationed, but soon the light from those windows will fade completely." He adjusts his glasses. "Let us not keep these people in darkness as well as fear. Will you help me distribute the candles? One to every other grouping."

Adeliha nods quickly. "Of course, I don't have a family to watch out for so whatever you need me to do, I'm willing."

Tyre nods, and moves to where the candles are kept. He hands her what bundles she can carry, and some to another man who seems less under shock. He moves from group to group, providing instruction to ration their light and explaining that he will ask that all candles be put out and the people attempt sleep so that they will have supplies for the next day should they need them. Eventually, he comes to Sehsis.

Sehsis gives him an anxious glance and a nod in greeting.

Avery comes from the kitchen, her cheeks colored. Pins hold her hair up in a bun and her gown's sleeves are rolled up to her elbows. As she enters the Hall, her eyes land on her brother and she closes the gap between them. "Tyre."

Aryna's tired brown eyes widen with recognition when Avery appears in the room.

Adeliha follows suit and begins to hand out candles to the other families as she was instructed. She will occasionally murmur a word of encouragement or give a reassuring smile to the people who seem to be still a bit frightened.

Abrielle glances up as Lady Avery appears. As Tyre walks over to Sehsis, she keeps her eyes on him.

Tyre looks to his sister as she approaches him. "Lady Avery."

Arael settles into her spot on the floor and distractedly nudges Tadden--who is sitting nearest her--in the back when he is not looking, then feigns innocence when he turns toward her. He giggles and turns back around, still half-peering over his shoulder.

Avery smiles gently and takes a few bundles from him. She glances at Sehsis and then her brother. "I'll go pass these out."

Aryna remains seated where she is with Arael, her back still to the wall. Little Bern blinks sleepily as he watches all the goings-on, and eventually drifts off in Aryna's lap.

Tyre kneels to Sehsis's level and hands him a candle. "Are you well?"

Sehsis accepts the candle with a mumbled word of thanks. "Well, I suppose I must be..."

Tyre asks, "Have you been treated well?"

Avery walks among the groups of villagers, handing out the candles. As she looks around, her eyes land on a young woman with a small boy. She blinks a few times. "Aryna?"

Abrielle decides to get up from her spot and pace the room.

Sehsis says in a somewhat shaky voice, "Better... better than I had expected when I found out..."

Adeliha finishes handing out the candles. She spots Abrielle and walks over to her and speaks quietly to her. "Hello, Abrielle. You alright? I didn't expect to see you here."

Arael is sitting cross-legged on the floor, facing toward Aryna and the wall. She nudges Tadden again and then quickly turns away as he tries to catch her. She gasps in feigned outrage and whips her head back toward him when he pokes her in return, and he giggles harder.

Abrielle chuckles humorlessly to Adeliha. "I just wanted some adventure..."

Tyre says, "If you need safer quarter, I will find it for you."

Sehsis inclines his head. "You think I am in danger here?"

Adeliha smirks faintly. "Well, it looks like you are having it." She places a hand on the girl's back. "It will be fine; our soldiers and these walls will be able to hold for a long time."

Tyre says, "You do not seem to be at this moment. I think... ah, I'm sorry," he says uncomfortably. "I think it will depend how long we are shut in."

Abrielle nods. "I guess so." She gives her a small smile. "Thank you."

Sehsis stares down at the floor. "I see..."

Aryna's pale face brightens slightly when Lady Avery approaches her. "Hello, Lady Avery. It's been quite some time..."

Tyre says, "You have my protection, however."

Sehsis says, "I... Thank you, I am grateful for this."

Adeliha nods at the young woman before moving around the crowd, keeping her eye out for anyone in need of help. However, her face looks a bit worn.

Arael looks up quickly in surprise as Aryna greets the Lady Avery.

Avery waves a hand, kneeling down. "Please, this is no time for formalities. Avery will do." She hands Aryna the last candle and glances down at the boy. "It has been a long time. How are you?"

Tyre nods. "Is there anything else you require? If not, I should move on."

Sehsis shakes his head. "I think I have all I need."

Aryna smiles gratefully. "Yes... I think we are doing all right, considering. Have... have you met my friend Arael?" She motions to the young woman at her side.

Aren sits in the corner alone. He sips on a cup of water that he has.

Avery looks at Arael and nods. "I have. But that was also a few years ago..." She smiles. "The circumstances are... unfortunate, but it is good to see you both again."

Tyre moves to his sister's side.

Abrielle goes back to her corner by Sehsis and tries to get some sleep.

Sehsis watches her, a little surprised, but leaves her to it.

Arael dips her head to Lady Avery and attempts to hush Tadden, who is now playing their game in earnest. "Aye... aye, M'lady."

Aryna's smile is a bit stretched from the anxiety, but sincere nevertheless. "How have you been?"

After making sure that everyone is okay, Adeliha moves to a quiet corner, resting against a wall. Soon, her eyes close and she is in a deep slumber.

Avery gives a slight nod, watching Tadden. "I have been well. My brother and I only arrived here about a week ago. We have spent these last years in Chesterton." She feels her brother's presence and looks up with a smile. "We certainly didn't expect all this..."

Aryna smiles wanly. "Neither did we," she admits. "My husband had some business for his inn and we came and... well."

Tyre asks, "Who is your friend, Lady Avery?"

Avery reaches up and takes Tyre's hand, pulling herself to her feet. "Aryna and Arael. I met them the last time I was here."

Arael turns around fully when Lord Tyre speaks, and she starts at finding him so close to the group.

Sehsis, now realising how exhausted he has been made by the day's events, settles down to sleep.

Aryna dips her head to Lord Tyre, unable to curtsy because she is still seated. "Pleased to meet you, m'lord," she says faintly.

Arael attempts to rise and curtsey, for her part, but is tugged back down to the ground by Tadden's insistent hand on her apron.

Tyre asks, "Have you been provided for?"

Aryna nods, her expression grateful. "Oh yes... thank you, Lord Tyre. We've been well provided for. You and Lady Avery have done a wonderful job of taking care of us."

Tyre says, "I, ahh, expect the atmosphere to grow less calm as the night draws on. May I count on you to be among those who provide--" He pushes his glasses up his nose as he thinks of the appropriate word. "Reason?""

Arael glances soberly between Lord Tyre and Aryna, and nods. "Aye, M'lord. If you're needing help with..." she trails off and shrugs, holding out her hands a little as if to show their uninjured state. "We're able."

Avery looks at Tyre. "Oh, Lord Tyre has done much more than I have, but we are glad we can be of service." She listens as he speaks and she nods in agreement. "It will be a long night, though, so if you get the chance, take a rest."

Aryna nods. "I'm quite wired for the moment so... I assume sleep shall come later. But, thank you."

Tyre says, "I am under the impression that rest will aid in the keeping of calm minds."

Arael glances significantly over at her cousin's pale, worried face. "We've got to get the children to, at any rate."

Avery frowns, glancing around the room. "There are a lot of hands to hold and comfort children, but it is best if they sleep. It is not good for them to be worried..."

Aryna nods. "Bern's dropped off... so that's a blessing. Lad can sleep through anything." She smiles gratefully, brushing a few stray wisps of hair out of her eyes.

Tyre says, "Lady Avery, you and I will keep guard over those who cannot."

Avery nods. "Absolutely."

Arael turns and moves her back up against the wall beside Aryna, where she sits quietly for the moment.

Tyre's blank face forms something like a frown. "Thank you for your aid, sister," he says.

Aryna smiles gratefully up at both Avery and Tyre as she shifts her sleeping son in her lap.

Fionna smiles down at her grandniece and nephew, who are fast asleep.

Avery looks up at him and nods slowly. "It is no trouble, brother." Her gaze shifts to Aryna and Arael and she says, "I will leave you both to your rest."

Arael smiles tiredly. "Thank you, M'lady. M'lord."

Aryna says, "Thank you, Avery. We'll speak later... hopefully."

Tyre leaves the gathering a little abruptly, moving to wander between crowds again, instructing groups to douse their candles.

Avery smiles at the two women once more and moves away to talk to some others.

Arael sighs and rests her head lightly on Aryna's shoulder as they are left alone, or relatively so.

Aryna lets her head lean against Arael's head, relaxing finally. "It's getting quiet," she whispers.

Avery busies herself with checking in on families, inquiring after their health and comfort.

Arael nods quietly. After a moment, she murmurs, "In here." She glances up at the now-darkened window.

Aryna nods slowly. "D... d'ya think Sir Colin and Win and Lanny and... all of them are doing all right?"

Arael licks her lips and swallows. "They've got to be, haven't they? 'Tis a /castle/."

Aryna nods. "An army couldn't get in here..." she says, more to convince herself than anything.

Arael nods as well, eyes idly scanning the room until they come to rest on Tad, who is watching the two of them with an expression that is as grim as can be mustered by a boy of not quite ten. She raises her head and smiles crookedly at him, patting the ground beside her in invitation, which he accepts.

Aryna smiles at Tad, trying to reassure him. Bern still sleeps soundly in her lap.

Arael straightens and slings her arm over his shoulder. Her tone is lighter, if a little forced, when she asks, "Why so glum?" She grins teasingly. "You know you've always wanted to see inside the castle and all."

Aryna smiles slightly as she eases Bern off her lap. Stretching for one of the blankets, she wraps her son in it and makes him comfortable on the floor, where he continues to slumber away.

Tad ignores her question and instead asks, "What's Father doing?" His face is scrunched up with worry.

Arael says, "Helping the King. They've got to have a lot of help to guard gates that big, I should think."

Aryna quietly rubs Bern's back in slow circles as he sleeps.

Arael grins again. "And you know how strong your father is--not likely they'd manage it without his help."

Tad nods slowly. He looks a little mollified, if not entirely convinced.

Aryna nods in agreement with Arael. "Bern's daddy is helping too. He's big and strong to help," she tells Tad.

Arael nods. "Aye, that he is." She shifts, turning to face Tad a little more. "Do you know what I think we've got to do now?"

Tad eyes her cautiously. "What?"

Arael grins. "I think we've got to think of a story."

Aryna smiles at Arael's words, nodding. "What's your favorite, Tad?"

Tad smiles reluctantly. "Rine the sailor." Tadden, who has been curled up against his mother's side, sits up straight at this and scoots closer to the others. "And the pirates!"

Arael nods and shifts again, leaning forward to engage the lads in the story. "Aye, that's so--Rine fought any number of pirates! What island did he sail from, though? I've forgotten."

Aryna helps. "Galma. Right, boys? Rine of Galma and his fearsome foes."

Tad exclaims, "Aye!" and Tadden adds, "A hundred of them!"

Arael grins, matching their enthusiasm. "At /least/ a hundred. Now, how did it start?" She pretends to think for a moment. "Ah, yes! Rine of Galma with his great red beard sailed out on his great red ship, just looking for an adventure." She continues in this manner, with the lads and Aryna helping her tell the story, though her tones grow more hushed as more and more of those around her--the boys' mother and sister included--drift off to sleep.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Continue reading this log in Part 2, or click here to return to the table of contents.

This is Part 2 of this log. Read Part 1 here.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later that night:

Great Hall
!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!
!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!
You stand in the most impressive room in Anvard, the Great Hall. It is hung
with tapestries on every wall, lending warmth to the vast stone chamber. High
windows allow a small amount of light in from the outside, but most of the
illumination comes from decorative sconces hanging along each wall. At the
northwestern end of the Hall you see a raised dais, where the High Table
stands. The purple and gold banner of Archenland hangs over the dais.
!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!
!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!

Tyre, pacing between the little gatherings of people through the night, looks weary. His step drags a little, though his stance is as businesslike as ever, and his face continues to fail to express much of anything. Seeing his sister's friend still awake, he approaches her. "You are unable to sleep," he sort of asks.

Aryna lifts her head as Lord Tyre approaches. She nods, smiling tiredly at him from where she sits with her son. "Not yet, unfortunately," she admits. "Are you able to get any rest, Lord Tyre?"

Tyre says, "Perhaps when Lady Avery has awoken, if another of the lords is not able to be spared until then."

Aryna nods her head. "Hopefully soon then, for your sake."

Tyre looks to the small, high windows, which show no sign of the coming day.

Aryna speaks again. "Lord Tyre... whatever comes, should you find you and yours needing another set of hands, please call on me. I'm not afraid of work and I know how to work hard. I'm a darn good cook and I can learn almost anything I put my hand to."

Tyre says, "We may very well have need of another cook. While I am sure many are capable, I imagine few have fed so many at once."

Aryna's smile is quick to respond, despite the circumstances. "Feeding my husband when he's around is like feeding a small army, so I'm your girl."

Tyre does not quite seem to get the joke. "The hungry here will not be so organized as an army, though we have been fortunate to have little unrest thus far."

Aryna squints at Tyre's face, smiling a bit when she realizes he didn't get it. "That's all right. I am glad, as you said, that there has not been much unrest."

Tyre says, "I think perhaps--" He removes his glasses to clean them, thinking. "I am told music can lift morale."

Aryna's eyes brighten. "Do you play or sing yourself, sir?"

Tyre says, "My sister is a more passionate musician, but I am trained. I know there are instruments within the castle walls. If we could procure a harp, she might provide some relief in that way."

Aryna nods. "I do believe Lady Avery and myself talked about her playing the harp all those years ago. Is that the instrument you prefer as well?"

Tyre says, "I have most practice in it, yes. There is one in the receiving room of our mother's halls. She asks that we keep up with the task."

Aryna smiles as she listens. "I've always wanted to learn some type of instrument... do you enjoy playing?"

Tyre says, "I find it takes time from more useful activities."

Aryna chuckles a bit. "Oh? Such as?"

Tyre says, "Tariff law and the prevention of criminality is perhaps more complex than it appears at the outside."

Aryna draws her knees up and rests her arms on top of them. "What is tariff law, exactly? Are those the laws we follow or do they apply elsewhere?" she asks with genuine curiosity.

Tyre moves to lean his back against the wall, not used to being on his feet so long. "I deal in both. The laws of my city: what is fair for us to take in order that we may better provide for our people in such circumstances as a famine or, as in this case, siege? Regardless of what is fair, what will /they/ see as fair? If they do not perceive what we ask as just, they will turn to thieving and worse, which will cause us to have to take more from those who will have less. Then there is the law of the country: how may we provide for the king's knights? And lastly, when we trade abroad, what agreements do we make with other nations? When we give, what do we receive in return? If criminality is the consequence of error in the first two tiers, war is the consequence of the last."

Aryna watches him, listening while he talks. She takes one of the blankets, folds it and spreads it on the floor nearby to make a nice padded seat. "Please, sit. You must be exhausted. I find it fascinating that you must consider the perspective of what they shall see as fair. It makes perfect sense. What is fair to one might not be fair to another. And how all three aspects you must consider affect each other."

Tyre glances at the ground. He looks as if he will refuse the offer, but, after a moment, sits on the makeshift cushion, practically creaking with the effort. "Precisely so."

Aryna quirks a smile. "Which do you find is the most difficult for you to address in your position?"

Tyre glances at her thoughtfully, adjusting his glasses. "A hard question to answer. I suppose I am most personally invested in my city, and that gives it a special kind of difficulty separate from the others."

Aryna nods. "It would make sense that you'd be the most invested in your own. What difficulty does it give you? The fact that you must struggle with a type of bias? Or something else?"

Tyre says, "Ah-- well, you see it, don't you? The unhappiness you've caused. In some cases, the poverty. And while I do not choose for my people the life paths they follow, I cannot help but feel responsible. Many thieves, vagrants, and the like believe they had no option than to be what they are. I know of those who would say that is no excuse, but, ahh-- well, I wonder."

Aryna's head nods once more. "I can definitely understand that... as a mother, I feel responsible for everything that happens to my son, even though quite often the choices he makes are his alone. I can't imagine what it will be like when he's older... and what it would be like to be responsible for a whole town. That must be very hard on you sometimes," she says, her voice carrying sympathy.

Tyre says, "It is my duty. I am given many comforts in return for it."

Aryna's expression is curious. "Such as?"

Tyre gestures to his raiment. "A fine home, sure meals, more education than is strictly my due."

Aryna hms, clasping her knees. "Do you find any sort of pride in the help you can give people, even though it may not always work out?"

Tyre says, "Ahhm, there is a kind of contentment in seeing a page of numbers balance. As for the people, if their lives go well, it is only as it should be. In such a case I have not, ah, I have not given /help/ so much as failed to give hurt."

Aryna says, "Hm, that's an interesting way of looking at it... how do you mean?"

Tyre says, "It is my duty to keep in balance what ought already to be. The people would have more food and sheep in the present were there no taxes set upon them, you see? It is only in times of trouble that they have need of what I set aside. Therefore, ah, how do I explain it-- therefore I can only upset what is naturally good, I cannot create it. When I do interfere with what resources I have, it is in case of emergency. That may be of real help-- it may be due to natural occurrence. But if it is due to war, the blame for it is in part my own, for not creating a country which seems stronger and more pleasant or profitable as it stands to other nations. I think, ah, I think I am explaining myself poorly. I'm sorry, I do not have a gift for teaching."

Aryna nods, listening intently. "No, you're fine. I think I understand where you are coming from. What limitations you are required to put on them in everyday life come back as aid during times of trouble, preventing further hurt from occurring, as it were. Am I following correctly?"

Tyre says, "That is an approximation of it, yes."

Aryna nods once more, satisfied with herself. "I can relate to that as a parent... my son wants many things, but there are many things I must withhold or take away that, if I allowed him to have them, would hurt him in the future. This could be relating to his physical health, or his character."

Tyre concedes, "I suppose there are similarities between the duties."

Aryna chuckles, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I'm trying to make connections, anyway. I wish I could say I made as much of a difference in people’s lives as someone like you or Sir Colin or Lord Ast."

Tyre removes his glasses and rubs at his eyes before cleaning the lenses. "I believe they would advise you we each may do what we are able with what we are given."

Aryna nods her head, brushing a few stray auburn strands from her face. "I believe that is very sound advice."

Tyre rises, nearly as creakily as he sat, and with more swaying. "But it is late, and it is best you sleep if you are able."

Aryna smiles gratefully up at him. "Thank you for the company, Lord Tyre. I do hope you get some rest yourself."

Tyre says, "When, ah, when I am able."

Aryna nods once more. "Until tomorrow, then," she says, her tone as hopeful as one can muster at such a late hour.

Tyre says, "If we remain, yes."

Aryna gives him a scolding look, most likely out of habit of being a mother. "We shall." She then softens and bids him good night once more before turning to check on her son.

Tyre looks surprised and confused at the rebuke, but moves on without investigating into the misunderstanding.

Later still:

Great Hall
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You stand in the most impressive room in Anvard, the Great Hall. It is hung
with tapestries on every wall, lending warmth to the vast stone chamber. High
windows allow a small amount of light in from the outside, but most of the
illumination comes from decorative sconces hanging along each wall. At the
northwestern end of the Hall you see a raised dais, where the High Table
stands. The purple and gold banner of Archenland hangs over the dais.
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The great hall is very still at this hour. Nearly everyone in it is sleeping, and those who are not are not up and moving about. Arael is sitting with her back against the wall and her legs stretched out in front of her. Tad's head rests on her lap, and though her head is leaned back and her eyes are half closed, she runs a hand through his hair now and again.

Colin enters the great hall as quietly as he can, looking around at all of the sleeping forms. He still wears most of his armor, though his gloves and helmet are missing. His hair is sweaty and disheveled, with a terrible case of helmet hair. What exposed skin there is is dirty and dingy from the dust of the castle walls and whatever else he has encountered. There is something dark and reddish brown smeared on his chainmail and armor. The substance is also on his dirty hands and splattered on his face. He looks quite weary and pensive.

Arael stirs a little and opens her eyes for a moment.

Colin approaches, moving his feet carefully so his boots don't clomp. He squints in the dim light, looking where he last saw Arael and her family. He sees her and stands there for a moment, and when his eyes adjust, he notices that her eyes are in fact open. He beckons to her questioningly.

Arael starts when she sees him standing there. In response to his beckoning, she slips out from under Tad--who sleeps soundly on despite her sudden movement--and settles his head on a blanket, then scrambles to her feet and faces Colin with an anxious posture.

Colin reaches out for her hand.

Arael lets him take it, eyes wide as she attempts to make him out better in the dim light.

Inner Ward of Anvard
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You stand in the Inner Ward of Anvard. The ground is hard-packed earth, and it
is open to the sky above. Wonderful aromas come wafting out from the Kitchen to
the south, near the well. Huge, impressive, intricately carved doors lead to
the Great Hall. Staff hurry about, in and out of their quarters, serving the
Great Hall and the Council Chamber. A quieter corridor to the northeast leads
to the library and schoolroom. Noble lords and ladies also pass through,
walking towards their quarters seeing to other business. A guarded gatehouse
to the east stands between the inner and outer wards. Two stairways line the
curtain wall, climbing to the upper reaches of the castle.
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Colin silently leads her from the great hall so they don't disturb anyone. They emerge into the ward where it is better lit, and he leads her to a quiet area out of the way and out of the line of sight of most passersby.

Arael follows, moving quickly but carefully to avoid treading on anyone in the dark. When they step out under the lamps where she can see the state of him better, she gasps quietly and speeds her pace, looking up at him with worried eyes.

Colin turns once he has her where he wants her, and he quite literally scoops her up into his arms in an embrace, holding her as tightly and gently as possible. It's quite possible his muscles are quivering with exhaustion, emotion, and who knows what else. He draws strength just from holding her and he draws her scent in with each breath, the simple comfort steadying him.

Arael's eyes widen in surprise as she is caught up off the ground, but after a moment's startled stillness, she slips her arms around his neck--bloody armor and all--and rests her chin on his shoulder.

Colin slowly lets her down, finally releasing her from the embrace, but he lets his forehead drop down to rest on the top of her head, and his grimy hands hold her shoulders. "Oh, Arael..." he finally says, his voice cracking with the burden he's been carrying that day. "Have I ever told you that you are one of my absolutely dearest friends, and I cherish every moment with you? I think I need to tell you that tonight... just in case--" He trails off.

Arael takes a few short, shallow breaths, hands hovering uncertainly in the air for a moment before they come to rest on his upper arms. She squeezes her eyes closed and swallows thickly. "I--"

Colin kisses the top of her forehead, his lips resting there for a lingering moment before he finally draws back to look at her face. "I'm sorry... I don't have much time. This was the first moment I could steal away. I wanted to make sure... I had to see you. Things are quiet right now, but tomorrow may bring something else. How are you doing? Are you all right? And the boys?"

Arael's eyes are damp when she looks up at him, but she smiles a little as she shrugs. "Aye. Better than you, anyway, I think," she answers, glancing down at his blood-and-dirt-smeared armor. "What--?" She looks too afraid to finish her question.

Colin draws a breath and slowly releases it, some of the tension leaving his body with the air. "I am unhurt. The blood... it belongs--Ara, love, Lanisen was the first to fall. He's fine... he'll be fine... he took two arrows right away. He was right beside me... oh L--Arael, I wish I could shield you from the aftermath of this attack, but I fear if I hold myself together much longer I'll break. It was terrible. I've fought before and never was it so terrible."

Arael's expression goes from relief, to horror, to a place somewhere between the two. She nods and bites her lip, surveying his face. "Did--did many--" she swallows and manages weakly, "die?"

Colin is quick to shake his head. "Nay, thank the Emperor. We've only wounded. Fo... fortunately!" he says, his tone brightening a little. He touches his finger to her chin. "It could have been much worse," he says quietly. "I am grateful we can say that."

Arael lets out the breath she was holding in a fast, relieved gust. She closes her eyes, then opens them again, and nods. "Rannen? And Winbrytt? They're not hurt?"

Colin nods. "They are well. Most of the men are staying in the barracks... we're taking turns on watch, sleeping, eating a bit... like camping," he says with a wan smile, which then fades. "I should return... check on Lanisen. Pulling the arrows out was... brutal. I don't want him to wake up with me not there... I'm so sorry to run off."

Arael covers her mouth with one hand, eyes wide, at the mention of removing arrows. She nods quickly. "Aye... of course you... aye." She lowers her hand and smiles resolutely. "Tell them we're thinking of them. Lanny and all, I mean. And... Lion, Colin, please keep safe."

Colin smiles down at her, wiping a smudge from her cheek with his thumb. "How could I not? With thoughts of you spurring me on and keeping me steady. I'll keep my head down," he promises. "Stay safe in here. I'll find you the moment I can." He squeezes both of her hands in his, looking into her eyes for a brief moment before he turns and guides her back to the door of the great hall. Touching two fingers to his forehead, he gives her hand a last squeeze before he lets go and disappears into the night.

Arael turns and leans her back against one of the doors to the great hall, one hand resting at the base of her throat, as she watches him go. She stays there for a few minutes more once he's out of sight, but eventually she takes a steadying breath and returns to her family.
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Back to Top

This is a log of all of the roleplay that took place among Rabadash and his army during the first day of their attempt to capture Anvard Castle.

The characters who appear in this log include Anradin, Azrooh, Chlamash, Corradin, Ilgamuth, Lune, and Rabadash.
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After riding hard through the desert bordering Calormen, Prince Rabadash and his army of two hundred horse have crossed the Winding Arrow into Archenland. They are now but a furlong from the gates of Anvard, and Rabadash has given orders to seize and despoil the castle, leaving no man alive.

At the Fork
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The path divides here, one fork curving west toward Anvard and the other
continuing to the northeast toward Andale. The trees are very thick here, with
dense patches of thorny briar filling in the gaps between trunks, and it is
impossible to see very far down the road in any direction. Sweet raspberries
can be found in the thickets on either side of the path in summertime, and the
forest is noisy with wildlife.
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Rabadash rides at the head of the horsemen, an eager savagery in his eyes. While his men ready their crossbows, he wields his scimitar, holding it steady and to the side, its tip occasionally twitching with the motion of his horse and his anticipatory energy.

Corradin steadies his horse long enough for him draw back his crossbow and notch an arrow. "I want some Archenlander!"

Anradin stands ready in his saddle, crossbow drawn back and waiting.

On Rabadash’s signal, the company advances toward Anvard.

Before the Gates of Anvard
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A flat green space at the foot of the mountains opens here, sheltered by the
slopes of the northern mountains. Stormness Head looms high to the northeast,
its peak nearly always in clouds, and the double-headed peak of Mount Pire
rises over the trees to the northwest. A steep ridge like the side of a bowl
curves around from the northwest to the east, and the ground descends into
dense forest to the south.

At the center of the clear area is a small turreted castle, facing east. Its
weathered walls are built of large blocks of red granite that glitter faintly
in the sunlight, and elegantly functional ironwork graces the front gates and
portcullis. A stone cobbled road wide enough to easily facilitate the passage
of carts and carriages crosses over the broad green lawns from the castle
gates, disappearing into the trees to the east.
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The cavalry starts to break through the trees, the castle coming into view. Rabadash wheels his horse around in a sharp halt, raising his hand to signal his Tarkaans to do likewise as he sees the tightly shut gates before them. A frown darkens his face.

Azrooh quickly wheels about at the Prince's gesture. His eyes narrowing at the shuttered castle gates, he makes a harsh signal to his cohort to hold back.

Ilgamuth brings his horse to a stop, frowning at the sight of the closed-down castle. "O, the gods do like to mock us," he says almost to himself. "The barbarians must have found out somehow."

Corradin reins in his horse to a stop. "Why isn't the gate open?" he shouts.

Azrooh snaps at Ilgamuth, "How could they? We have ridden hard and without pause for breath since we left for this cursed land. It is impossible that a warning could have outstripped us."

Chlamash says in response to Ilgamuth, "Like it to have been one of their devils in the guise of a bird or some such sorcery."

Anradin pulls up short at his Prince's signal and surveys the closed-up castle with a shrewd gaze, his face grave. He is silent for the moment.

Ilgamuth casts a glower towards Azrooh. "It must be as Chlamash says. You know as well as I do that these lands are filled with sorcery. It is the only explanation. In any case, the element of surprise is clearly lost."

Rabadash grits his teeth, eyes aflame. "Impossible or not, oh Tarkaan, I shall find the wretched dog, be he man or devil, who betrayed our advance, and upon that day he shall wish the sun never rose." His glare whips towards the others. "Surprise, sorcery, or not, we have not ridden so far to be dissuaded by the gates of the barbarians! I shall not lose the false jade to so flimsy a wall."

Azrooh scowls at Chlamash's talk of demons, but holds his tongue as the Prince speaks.

Ilgamuth watches the walls of the castle intently before saying in a slow, careful voice, "Of course, your Highness, we all realize the great depth of your passion, but I must tell you that our plan depended on factors of surprise and the barbarians' unpreparedness... Know then, O Prince, that we are unprepared for a siege, having with us no weapons such as catapults, nor the supplies needed for starving them out."

Corradin's horse prances in place. "Such minor details, Ilgamuth! We can still take the city with our men. Let us get ourselves some Archenlander blood!"

Azrooh snaps at Corradin, "The Tisroc, may he live forever, will not reward us for blood. The castle is the prize he would most desire. I for one would not wish to return without that precious booty, when he discovers our secret adventure."

Rabadash, who had been looking at Ilgamuth with narrowed, though considering, eyes, casts a cold glance to Corradin. "Hold your peace, Tarkaan. I would know what Ilgamuth advises, for to turn back now would be to return in shame, and that I shall not do."

Chlamash holds his peace wisely to listen.

Ilgamuth taps the hilt of his sword thoughtfully, eyes still on the castle. "What we need now is to figure out what defenses this castle possesses, if we are to prepare for an all-out assault with what we have and what we can make. The barbarians must have watchers on the walls; they surely would have seen us coming. Perhaps we can send a small number under the pretense of making peace or some other such excuse. Should they fall for the ruse and open the gates, then we have achieved our aims and may storm the castle. If they do not, we lose nothing and gain some level of information, having seen the walls up close."

Azrooh presses his lips together, forced to consider the wisdom of this suggestion.

Corradin taps his free hand on his crossbow. "And if they take the men we send and keep them captive?"

Rabadash's scimitar blade flashes as he moves the tip in small circles and considers this suggestion. Finally, he nods sharply. "As you have said, oh Ilgamuth, let it be so done." He glances around the Tarkaans gathered, choosing whom to take... then looks towards Corradin. "Upon my visit to these lands of the north, it was made clear that these barbarians value honor beyond wisdom." His lip curls into a sneer. "Know, then, they shall not harm nor lay threat to those who come under the banner of peace."

Corradin laughs loudly. "They are truly dumb barbarians, then."

From the castle's northern wall walk, Lune calls out, "Rabadash!"

Azrooh tightens the grip on his reins. "Whom would you send for this parley, O Prince? As you have said, wisdom is the virtue most valued by the poets of war." He freezes at the sudden cry and looks out toward the castle.

Corradin instantly draws his crossbow up at the call from above. "If this is our plan, now is the time," he says quietly.

Rabadash looks towards the wall as he hears himself addressed... and not by proper title. His scowl grows once more. "Ilgamuth, Azrooh, you shall follow. Corradin, hold the cavalry in readiness for my signal, should it be required." He rides forward, expecting his commands to be followed, and calls back.

Ilgamuth inclines his head, being unable to bow while mounted on a horse. "To hear is to obey, O Prince." He urges his horse to follow as Rabadash rides forward.

Corradin says, "As you wish, O Prince."

Rabadash says, "I, Prince Rabadash, am listening. What is it you wish to say?"

Azrooh twists back in his saddle and relays the orders sharply to his cohort. "You'll know when the signal is given. When it is, charge as if I were whipping your hindquarters myself," he growls. He turns gruffly and kicks his horse to follow Rabadash.

From the castle's northern wall walk, Lune calls out, "We would hear what you have to say, rather. Why do you come to Our gates in armour, bearing weapons?"

Rabadash glances briefly at his cavalry, then to Ilgamuth, then the castle. Sheathing his scimitar, he spreads his arms and calls back, "My business is with the land beyond yours, the fair Narnia, oh King. Armed we are, for the deserts are fearsome, and haste could not allow for gentler tactics."

Ilgamuth's eyes scan the walls, taking in the details of the castle that he can see.

From the castle's northern wall walk, Lune calls out, "Then what do you here? Why do you gather before Our walls, speaking warlike words among yourselves?"

Chlamash reins his horse in as it dances in eagerness.

Azrooh rises stiffly in his saddle, shooting a dirty glance at Ilgamuth before looking to the Prince's lead.

Corradin's horse snorts and stomps the ground before it with a single hoof.

Anradin shifts his weight backward in his stirrups, narrowing his eyes as he surveys the small, pale figures on the battlements.

Ilgamuth returns Azrooh's look with a calm, level one of his own before going back to his careful examination of the castle.

Rabadash's lips press together before he spreads his hands wide. "This land lies between here and there, oh King, and our steeds are weary from long travel. We sought rest, and I offer for what you may have heard that some among my number are warriors by nature. Shall you not come down and speak, as one of royal blood to another, so we may lay to rest these misunderstandings before the night has come in earnest?"

From the castle's northern wall walk, Lune calls out, "What purpose have you with Narnia in such numbers, then, Prince?"

Rabadash is running out of excuses or anything resembling smooth words. "I go to greet the fairest of queens, for our farewell was too swift. My men I bring for protection, oh King. Will you not come to speak? For I weary of calling for all the world to bear witness."

Azrooh looks up to take measure of the stars, grunting in irritation at the lateness of the hour already.
Azrooh mumbles "He ... one ... and ... has long since passed.", to Azrooh.

From the castle's northern wall walk, Lune calls out, "Well should the world bear witness! Return to your country, Rabadash. There is nothing for you here."

Chlamash says, "The stars above mock us."

Rabadash's eyes narrow and he grabs at his scimitar, unsheathing it to flourish skyward. "Nothing? Oh King of barbarians, there is a castle for me here!"

Azrooh's eyes flash and he urges his horse a step closer to the Prince.
Azrooh mumbles "... ... what ... plan, ... Prince. Further ... with these barbarians are ...", to Rabadash.

Chlamash says, "My Prince and Lord Tarkaans."

Ilgamuth puts a hand on his crossbow as Rabadash unsheathes the scimitar, watching the castle walls intently for any signs of their archers making a move. Rabadash nods curtly to Azrooh's words, wheeling his horse around to ride back towards the cavalry, giving the signal to attack. "For the barbarian queen, for the glory of Calormen, and for Tash! Take the city!"

Corradin raises his crossbow, scanning the walls for soldiers.

Anradin surges forward on his steed, settling his bow into position and taking aim.

Ilgamuth grimaces (more so that he already is), setting his horse to move while standing in the saddle, aiming at the walls.

Azrooh satisfies himself that his soldiers are moving up before swiveling in his saddle and cocking his crossbow. "Form a line! Make sure no cowards can escape!"

Chlamash exclaims, "FOR VICTORY! FOR GLORY!"

Ilgamuth shouts to his men, "Into position, and should I see any man hesitate I will have you flayed alive!"

Corradin exclaims, "FOR TASH!" He takes aim and fires.

Azrooh fires a crossbow bolt amid the archers on the northern wall!

Anradin cries out, "The Eternal Tisroc!" and looses a bolt.

Several arrows fall upon the cavalry, and cries and curses ring out as a few find their marks in men or beasts.

Rabadash sheaths his scimitar, pulls out his crossbow, orders his men... and begins to fire!

Ilgamuth aims and fires his crossbow.

Rabadash gives a fierce grin as one of his bolts finds its mark.

Ilgamuth takes aim and fires again.

Corradin draws back the string to his crossbow and places another arrow. "Die, you Archenland barbarians!"

Anradin curses and fires off another few shots as the cavalry takes hit after hit.

Rabadash glances at the cavalry falling, lips tightening with dissatisfaction at the chaos in the ranks. His horse leaps to the side, narrowly avoiding a bolt aimed his way.

Azrooh snarls and kicks his horse into a gallop, moving in among the cavalry. "Use your shields, you stupid dogs!" He kicks at one of the soldiers that is staring up stupidly into the battlements.

Ilgamuth weaves back and forth on his horse as he readies his crossbow and once again fires. Despite his personal misgivings at the way the events have played out, orders from the Prince are orders and must be obeyed.

Another volley of arrows rains down from the castle's walls.

Chlamash jerks his horse to the side quickly as an arrow thuds into the ground. He takes a double barb arrow from his quiver and fits it to the crossbow. He draws the string back, firing at the north wall.

Azrooh's shield resounds with a clang as an arrow glances off it. He curses under his breath. "Hold them up, you curs!" Huddled over with his shield overhead, he nudges his horse in a weaving course toward Rabadash. "O Prince, our forces are too exposed down here. We must take more effective cover."

Anradin's battle-charger prances restlessly as his master fires another round of arrows, then guides the horse into motion to avoid the volley of arrows.

Ilgamuth calls out as he fires another arrow, "There are forests all around; that would make for a greater challenge to the enemy."

Corradin's horse lets out a cry as an arrow lands right before it.

Rabadash, as he sees men falling and... well... the walls /not/, glances towards Azrooh, eyes flashing angrily. "Then it is fortunate, oh Azrooh, that there are trees aplenty beneath which to do so. To the trees!"

Azrooh lands his boot into a few equine hindquarters as he screams, "You heard our Prince! Take cover with the trees! Keep firing!"

Rabadash, once further back and under a little bit of tree cover (bare minimum), wheels around to fire again.

Ilgamuth orders his soldiers back to the trees for cover, aiming once more at the castle and firing.

Rabadash, as he misses, glares in /fury/ at a cavalry man that dared witness it before shooting again.

Anradin rides for the trees, holding up his shield for cover as he goes, then wheels around and takes aim once more.

Corradin draws a bolt from his quiver. "Ah yes, just the one I was looking for. The poisoned bolt." He loads and takes aim.

Chlamash laughs quietly under his breath. He leads his men back to the cover of the woods with a cry before shooting again.

Rabadash spies the King, far above in a tower, and aims that way. Unfortunately for the Prince, a common foot soldier gets in the way.

Azrooh eventually makes it under a bit more cover, and takes a moment to survey the battlefield.

Rabadash, after having loosed a few more bolts, casts his eye around the Tarkaans. "Ilgamuth! To me!" he shouts.

Anradin surveys the cavalry around him as they continue to take arrows at a rapid pace, and switches tactics to begin shooting from under the partial cover of his shield.

Ilgamuth's horse rears suddenly as an arrow barely misses it, though he manages to calm the beast as Rabadash calls to him. He urges the horse towards the Prince at the summons.

Corradin exclaims, "Aim carefully, men! Be sure to hit your mark!"

Azrooh frowns at Ilgamuth's summons, his lip curling in a sneer.

Rabadash's horse dances to the side as bolts rain down, but he guides it to Ilgamuth. "You observed their wall, oh Ilgamuth," he says as he takes aim. "What of use did you see?"

Ilgamuth hoists his shield over his head for protection from the arrows and says, "The walls are granite, which is notoriously strong. Furthermore, they seemed thick and sturdy. The weak point is the gates. The portcullis is iron, but iron is not impregnable. Of course, should we take out their archers, some ladders could be built and we could storm it in that manner. Ladders do, of course, take time to construct."

Azrooh shakes his head as he trots over to the conference. "Had we ladders, they would pick us off all the more easily," he retorts. "We must break those gates. And Tash has blessed us with ample supplies for the task!" He gestures back toward the woods.

Rabadash narrows his eyes, letting his men do their duty to fight and die for him while he debates. "Time we have little of. Continue to fire upon the archers..." He looks towards Azrooh. "How swift can a ram be made?"

Azrooh shrugs. "Time enough that we should retreat. We should conserve our numbers for one decisive attack, so that our forces might keep the ramming soldiers shielded."

Ilgamuth shoots Azrooh a glare. "Some would stay on the ground and provide covering fire, and once at the top, the archers may be taken out with swords as well as bows. A ram would also need covering fire, may I remind you, as those doing the ramming would be just as vulnerable as those on the ladders." He pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. "To make a ram, a tree would have to be felled. This will, without the proper equipment, take a lot of time; then there is removing it of the branches and making it suitable to handle, all of which is not a quick or easy task."

Azrooh snorts at Ilgamuth. "Very well, build your ladder then. And I welcome you, O noble Tarkaan, to lead that unfavoured charge!”

A broadhead arrow flies toward the Calormene force. Somebody yells, and there is a small commotion as horses shift and whicker uneasily in response.

Chlamash asks, "Oh my Lord Prince, what if word should get to the Narnians? Might they not gather their strength and ride to the aid of Archenland? Should we not conserve our forces?"

Rabadash eyes Ilgamuth, all possible earlier favour looking to be fading. "And the making of a ladder is easier? The ram is swifter work, and we must not linger here long, else the barbarian queen shall land." He hears the yell and his lip curls in disdainful anger. "A ram we shall make tonight; the moon is full enough to work by. Summon your men! We shall take rest in the trees." To Chlamash, the haughty Prince replies, "Take your men and make watch of the castle tonight. Shoot any bird to leave, and slay any man to run. Do not let word spread beyond the walls!"

Chlamash says, "It shall be my pleasure, oh Prince..." He grips his crossbow tighter.

Ilgamuth casts one last glare in the direction of Azrooh before saying, "As you wish, O Prince..."

Azrooh cannot resist a gloating grin at Ilgamuth when Rabadash announces his decision. "To the trees! Regroup, all of you!" he yells as he kicks his horse into motion.

Anradin promptly turns his horse and forms up the ranks of the men under his command, ordering a retreat under cover of shields and the trees.

Corradin shouts to his men, "Regroup! Move further back into the trees!"

Rabadash pauses just long enough to grit his teeth towards the castle. "The barbarian dogs shall weep beneath my feet ere the next rise of the moon." He glances once more at Chlamash. "Should word spread, oh Tarkaan, know that it is your skin that shall feel the wrath of the descendant of Tash. Surprise has failed once; I shall not allow it to fail again." He ignores the drama of Azrooh and Ilgamuth.

Chlamash bows as deeply as one might while astride. "It is an honour to serve you, O Prince," he says. "May the gods grant you favour, and the barbarians rue this day henceforth for all eternity."

Ilgamuth calls out to his men, ordering them further into the trees. His orders are delivered more angrily and with more threats than strictly necessary.

Chlamash turns, shouting to his men, "No one is to leave the castle alive. Any man or beast you see, be it mortal or demon, you are to shoot it at ONCE, or you shall learn true suffering in the mines!"

Rabadash, satisfied that his orders are being carried out, kicks his horse to a gallop, winding between the safety of the trees and glaring at the castle's firm walls.

Azrooh barks to his men, "Form a line. No creature crosses it this night, not even beasts that flap or slither, or I'll have your hides by morning, by the gods! You two, come with me. Keep your eyes sharp for a sturdy trunk." He leads them deeper into the trees.

Chlamash exclaims, "Let nothing distract you from this task--not might, nor fell voice, nor breath of chill wind. FOR THE GLORY OF THE EMPIRE!"

Corradin shout to his men, "Keep moving, you swine! No one sleeps tonight! We have work!"

Anradin urges his men, "Go! Halt not, you blind imbeciles, if you do not wish to breathe your last before the barbarian cowards who cower within the castle."
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This is a log of all of the roleplay that took place among those who fought in the battle outside the gates of Anvard during the second day of the siege.

The characters who appear in this log include Aliyah, Anradin, Azrooh, Chlamash, Cole, Colin, Corin, Corradin, Dar, Darrin, Drune, Edmund, Eston, Haft, Ilgamuth, Johan, Lucy, Lune, Nimera, Peridan, Rabadash, Shar, Shasta, Sigyn, Tempest, and Tran.
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Through the night and much of the day, the Calormene forces have been holding Anvard Castle under siege while they work to fashion a battering ram for use in an assault on the gates.

Before the Gates of Anvard
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A flat green space at the foot of the mountains opens here, sheltered by the
slopes of the northern mountains. Stormness Head looms high to the northeast,
its peak nearly always in clouds, and the double-headed peak of Mount Pire
rises over the trees to the northwest. A steep ridge like the side of a bowl
curves around from the northwest to the east, and the ground descends into
dense forest to the south.

At the center of the clear area is a small turreted castle, facing east. Its
weathered walls are built of large blocks of red granite that glitter faintly
in the sunlight, and elegantly functional ironwork graces the front gates and
portcullis. A stone cobbled road wide enough to easily facilitate the passage
of carts and carriages crosses over the broad green lawns from the castle
gates, disappearing into the trees to the east.
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Rabadash stamps about amid the trees, barking out orders. "Where is Azrooh? Where is that confounded Tarkaan and the ram that he promised me? It has been many hours since daybreak!"

The unfortunate Tarkaan is eventually found and comes scurrying forth. "Forgive me, O great Prince! The work took some time longer than I had anticipated, but see! Look, it is coming." Azrooh gestures behind him where a team of soldiers are heaving an enormous and stout trunk, with handles firmly lashed along its sides.

Ilgamuth watches the arrival of the ram, his expression carefully unreadable in his attempt to hide the disappointment of Azrooh's apparent success in his ill-advised plan.

Anradin is standing a little way off from the group of men under his command, closer to the Prince and his generals. He is facing the castle off in the distance, stroking his beard as he studies its walls. As the ram comes through, he turns to survey it.

Rabadash's snarl settles some when the evidence is finally brought before him. He runs a hand over the business end as if testing it, and nods in satisfaction. "All this time to cut down a tree, Azrooh. It is well that I do not pay you for labour. Quickly, bring it to! Ilgamuth, how do you suggest we array our forces for the first assault?"

Azrooh grimaces at the slight. "It was difficult finding the right heft of tree, O Prince, and if I might suggest my own course of action..."

Ilgamuth examines the ram, then looks over at the castle. "Strength and speed are essential in this endeavour, O Prince. The portcullis is sturdy iron and will not fall at once; therefore, it is essential that those wielding the ram are of no small strength and stamina. While they are battering, they will be vulnerable. I suggest we have archers on hand to cover them, as once the barbarians realise what we are doing, they will try to stop us by means of bows or possibly even boiling oil..."

Anradin raises his hand sharply to signal for his shield to be brought to him, and listens, stern-featured, as Ilgamuth presents his strategy.

Ilgamuth taps the hilt of his scimitar thoughtfully and adds, "I feel obliged to point out that even with these precautions, some will fall in the assault."

Chlamash draws his scimitar as he stands readying himself for battle.

Rabadash strokes his beard as he weighs the merits of this plan, and then nods, decided. "Very well. Azrooh, since we have you to thank for this course of action, you will lead the ram's assault. Chlamash, you are to ensure that none of these barbarians approaches the ram or interferes with its strike. And Ilgamuth, keep the battlefield encircled--ensure no creature escapes, and tighten the noose with your advancing forces." His lip twists into a sneer at the Tarkaan's caution. "We have two hundred horse, O Tarkaan. Not all of them will make it home, but the ones who do will return in victory and honor! Not to mention wealth. See to it that they know this!"

Chlamash bows. "It shall be as you say, Prince." He tightens his grip on his shield.

Azrooh grumbles as he mounts his horse, a foul expression on his face as his orders are given. He kicks his steed into motion as he begins barking out further orders to his cohort, preparing them for the charge. "Keep your shields UP, men! Do not give these barbarians even a moment for a cowardly strike." As he moves by Ilgamuth, he snarls to him alone, "Good luck to you. I doubt you shall need it from your position of safety and comfort."

Ilgamuth inclines his head and says, "As you wish, O Prince." He brings his horse around. As Azrooh passes him he says in a low voice, "You have had your wish and now must take charge of your ideas." He gives a small, triumphant (though rather lopsided) smirk and rides back to his men, shouting orders to let no barbarian nor beast nor living thing pass on pain of pain.

Anradin mounts his charger and circles his company of mounted archers. "Arrows at the ready, ye servants of the Tisroc--may he live forever--and his great Prince! Cover for the ram as we break the barbarians' gate!"

Chlamash turns his horse to face his men. "Keep your shields above your heads. You are to guard the ram with your lives. Let no man interfere with its march! Every man who lives this day shall return in glory and honor!"

Rabadash vaults onto his own horse and calls to Anradin, "Your archers will command the field, Anradin, and harry our enemy should they try to organize. Keep a sharp eye out for those turrets and dissuade any foolish archers on their side to give up their venture." He grins savagely and pulls out his scimitar, waving it into the skies to glint in the sun. "Hear me, barbarians! For this is a day you will rue for a generation to come, when you did not show proper courtesy and respect for nobles of the Calormene empire! Tarkaans, attack!"

Anradin bows from the waist, leaning low over his steed's neck. "To hear is to obey." To his men, who have formed a double line on foot ahead of him but behind the ram, he cries out, "A volley upon the walls to put them in disarray before the ram, and then advance!" He brandishes his scimitar in the direction of the castle and urges his horse toward the walls as his archers loose their arrows.

Azrooh holds his own scimitar aloft and bellows to the ramsmen, "Shields up, men, and charge!" before kicking his horse savagely into a gallop! His forces make quick time to the main gates and bring all the force of their charge into their first great swing. A tremendous boom cracks and reverberates through iron and stone!

Chlamash leads his forces quickly after Azrooh's, kicking his own horse into a gallop so that he and his force arrive soon.

Ilgamuth looks over quickly as the first thud rings out, but his attention is only momentary, as he has his own orders to follow.

Anradin and his men advance behind the ram, shooting one great volley after another upon the walls with each of Anradin's commanding cries.

Rabadash hangs back near Ilgamuth's line, taking a commanding view of the field and watching for the barbarians' response.

Azrooh barks, "Again, men, heave to!" With a great groaning and struggling, the soldiers rock back the trunk and swing it forward with another great thud against the gates, which rattle under the shock.

Arrows begin to spray from the castle walls, raining down on the ramsmen. Most are deflected away with great clangs, although some land true with sickening, wet thocks. Azrooh cries out, "Chlamash, draw their fire, for the sake of the gods!"

Anradin curses sharply and lifts his shield above his head as the men on the ram begin to fall. "Again! These barbarians shall not be said to have felled men faster than the ranks of the Calormene Empire, ye dogs! Bring them down!"

Chlamash gallops back and forth, his shield held high as he shouts 'encouragement' to his men. "Draw their fire, men, or face the wrath of my fury!"

Meanwhile, within the castle:

Upper South Gate Tower
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You stand in the South Gate Tower, and through the narrow windows you can see
off into the distance of Archenland. Here soldiers and knights can defend
Anvard, raining arrows down on any enemy who should approach the gate. There
is a door leading out to the southern wall walk, and stairs leading down to
lower levels of the tower.
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Lune stands with his arms crossed, watching the activity outside the walls.

Darrin shadows the King, his hand on his sword. He looks, to a keenly observant eye, a shade paler than yesterday, but otherwise the arrow he took doesn't seem to be affecting him.

Colin silently stands with his comrades, watching as best he can while he replaces the string on his bow.

Cole comes up the stairs and out onto the wall, taking in the field as he nears the edge. "Gates and all other entrances are secure, your Majesty," he offers, his gaze settling on the ram.

Shar ascends behind Cole. "Lord Tyre is aware of the present circumstance and the doors to the great hall have been reinforced, Sire."

Lune accepts Cole and Shar's reports with a nod. To the archers in the tower, he says, "Hold your fire until they are well within range. Wait for our signal." He glances at Darrin. "Take a message to the stables to outfit all suitable horses for battle."

Colin nods at Lune's words, readying his bow and sighting downward while he awaits orders.

Darrin bows to the King. "Yes, Sire." He disappears down the tower.

Cole's hand drops to his sword, clenching the hilt as he continues observing their movements.

Lune watches the preparations below. "They will be vulnerable at the gate," he says quietly. "A man cannot wield a ram and a sword at the same time. It may give us a chance." He turns to the remaining lords. "Send out the order. Muster all men not covering the walls. We ride out."

Dar stands beside his father, making his own assessment of the Calormenes' efforts. "They ready their archers below--", he says grimly. At Lune's command, he fastens his bracers, checks his sword, and prepares to descend.

Colin nods at the orders, lowering his bow to exchange it for his sword nearby.

Shar bows to the order and disappears out onto the wall.

Cole steals one last glance at the field before quickly turning, nodding to the King. "It shall be done." Taking a breath and rolling his shoulders, he briskly heads down the stairs.

Darrin returns some time later, just as Rabadash is giving the command to attack. He looks out over the field grimly as he approaches Lune. "All is prepared, your Majesty," he says.

Lune does not wait for the battering ram to begin. "The rest of you, to me," he orders, and makes his way down the stairs toward the outer ward, where the war horses and the castle soldiers are assembled.

Dar is at Lune's side almost as soon as the order is given. "Yes, Sire. At once."

The knights gather below, preparing to ride out with their King.

Outer Ward
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You stand in the busy outer ward of Castle Anvard, full of people seeing to the
needs of king and kingdom. There are market stalls along the outer wall,
bustling with merchants and shoppers. Grooms work in the stables, tending to
the horses there, and you hear the occasional bark of a dog from the kennels.
The sounds of hammer hitting iron rings out from the blacksmith shop. There are
stairs leading to the gate towers on the northern and southern corners of the
outer curtain. To the east is the outer gatehouse, and the road leading into
the realm of Archenland, and to the west another gate, leading to the inner
gatehouse, the inner ward, and the main keep of Anvard.
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A volley of arrows from outside the gates rains upon the walls up above, and a tremendous boom cracks and reverberates through iron and stone as the ram crashes against the gate for the first time.

Lune arrives in the outer ward just before the first shuddering boom of the battering ram outside and surveys the men and horses gathered there. Horses skitter and whicker in response to the noise and are calmed, but the men mutter quietly among themselves. Lune commands in a voice that is not loud but nonetheless carries, "Order your ranks."

Colin goes to his horse, quickly checking the equipment before he mounts, ready for further orders.

Johan holds his hands up to his ears as he hears the shuddering boom. After that he quickly clenches his sword tightly.

Eston jumps at the first sound of the battering ram, his hand going to his sword, his face pale.

Dar's features go very grave as the first assault of the battering ram hits the castle wall. He stands at his ease, no show of worry present, and his hand rests upon the hilt of his sword.

Cole is on his brother's heels, yanking on the straps of his mount to make sure they are secure just as the ram connects. He flinches at the sound, gaze turning dark.

Shar gives the call for order, lifting a hand in confirmation of his own words.

Colin holds his mount steady, one hand on the reins and the other on the hilt of his sword. He looks to Shar.

The ram makes another great thud against the gates, which rattle under the shock.

Darrin takes his horse's head and soothes the beast quietly, looking grim. He strokes his horse's neck and glances to Lune.

Lune takes the reins of his own horse from the groom and mounts easily, drawing his sword. He turns the horse to face his men, taking a moment to look over the lines of pale faces. "Hear me," he says, not flinching at the great rolling boom from the gate behind him. "I do not know to what end we ride. This is not a venture for the craven. If any man is unwilling to march outside the gates and face our enemy, speak now."

Eston tries to calm his frayed nerves. Though his hands are shaking with fright, he does not speak even at the King's suggestion.

Colin says not a word, his mouth a thin line.

Dar mounts his stallion in a single, fluid motion. He sits tall in the saddle, his attention fixed on his King. There is not a sliver of doubt or hesitation in his aspect.

Johan does not move at all. He stands silently, clenching his sword.

Cole sets his jaw and mounts easily, his left hand clutching his sword as he remains silent.

At the King's words, Darrin sets his jaw and mounts his horse without hesitation. He loosens his sword in its scabbard, spares a glance over the ranks, and then returns his gaze to Lune, little but determination on his face.

Arrows continue to pelt the battlements.

Lune watches his men. His eyes crease slightly at the corners with his approval, though he does not smile. "Those on foot, I charge you to defend the outer gate at all costs. If the horn sounds retreat, fall back to the second gate immediately. For the rest of you, our assault must be quick and deadly. Do not venture far from the gates; do not seek your own glory. The protection of our walls is our first and only priority. If the horn sounds retreat, draw back immediately within the gates and do not linger."

Shar splits his attention between the King and the gates, returning it more fully when the King speaks. His expression draws even at the words, training taking over where a regular calm demeanor might fail.

Cole sits up straight a the King speaks, looking ready to draw his sword at any moment. As the King finishes, he nods, eyes wandering to the gates.

From outside the gates come shouts of both command and fear.

Lune gives the command. "Open the gates!" He wheels his charger toward the gates and raises his horn to his lips and sounds the charge.

Colin draws his sword and drums his heels into Coalblack's sides to urge him forward.

Johan lifts up his sword in front of him, ready to charge forward.

Dar urges Celeres into motion, sword glinting in his hand.

Darrin draws his sword as well, steering his horse to flank the King.

Cole quickly draws his sword, directing his steed forward.

Eston draws his own sword, determination growing despite the fear.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to those below, the Narnian army has gathered on the northeastern ridge just beyond view of the castle, ready to come to Archenland’s aid.

Lower Slopes of Stormness Head
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This is a wide meadow on the southern slopes of Stormness Head, littered with
gray boulders that glitter with mica. It is open and grassy, shaped like a
bowl, with small white mountain flowers sprinkled indiscriminately throughout.
The dense pine forest that covers the mountainside higher up shelters the area
from the worst of the north wind. The path passes through to the west, climbing
into the trees, and descends to the east.

From this height most of Archenland can be seen. The town of Andale is a little
distance to the east, and rich green forest extends for miles to the south,
with the thin grey-gold line of the Calormene desert beyond. To the west are
lower fields, golden with wheat, then forests again, very far away. The view of
the base of the mountain is blocked by a low ridge that rises on the southwest
side of the bowl.
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Corin is engaged with sword swings, testing his blade for balance and seeing if he can remember King Edmund's most recent lessons.

Edmund is hefting his own blade, testing the weight and the sharpness of it. He handles the sword with ease. "Hold a bit further up the hilt, Prince Corin, and you might find that grip easier," Edmund observes amiably.

Sigyn stands beside her sister, her tail twitching as she watches her fellow Narnians.

Peridan is on his horse, a handsome bay war horse. The man looks confident and calm, though there is a suppressed fire in his eyes. His eyes survey the army, having handed the banner of Narnia to a banner carrier.

Nimera remains near her sister, looking a bit miffed, but nevertheless ready for battle.

Aliyah takes the scene in, noting their Majesties as she does so. Ears are up and alert, every muscle in her body tensed.

Drune stands next to his Alpha, expression grim and posture tense. He looks between those gathered before turning his focus onto King Edmund.

Lucy strings her shortbow and plucks the string to test it. It reverberates as it should and she nods with a pleased expression. She glances over the party.

Edmund catches his sister's gaze. The younger King's expression suggests that he is fully cognizant of the seriousness of the situation at hand. "Everything as it should be, Lu?" he asks her quietly.

Lucy musters a reassuring smile. Her answer to his question is perhaps purposefully louder for the benefit of those around. "All is as it should be on our end."

Edmund nods, satisfied, before speaking a few words to his sister.
Edmund mumbles "... cannot...risk ... ... ... ... ... will...have ... tell ... and...I ... it will not be pleasant. ... remember...his age, and ... ... not...have ... for being...on the sidelines.", to Lucy.

Corin looks up at Edmund attentively as he instructs him, shifting his grip and doing another practice swing. He grins. "Will we attack immediately, your Majesty? There is little time to lose."

Shasta watches Corin and attempts to mimic his stance, failing. He does not look at all sure about all this.

Peridan says, "Patience, young Prince. We need to wait for the scouts to get back. It is reckless to rush into battle without knowing what we are rushing into."

Edmund adds, more audibly, to Corin, "Your Highness, a word with you while we await the scouts."

Lucy, in turn, sighs and nods to what her brother has said. She murmurs something back.
Lucy mumbles "Perhaps ... could ... from the ... ... might be ... ... easier to ... his promise, ... we ... ... ... him.", to Edmund.

Tempest stands by her packmate, nose twitching as she sorts through all of the scents rushing at her. She stands ready, awaiting instructions.

Corin sighs with exasperation at Peridan. "I know, I know, but my father needs us. Waiting is... ugh!" He kicks at a stone. After a while, he makes his way over to Shasta. "How is that armour fitting you?"

Shasta moves his shoulders forward and back, trying to get it to settle. "Rather ill, I'm afraid. How do you move about in all this?"

Corin chuckles and moves about Shasta to adjust his straps. "It is a /bit/ awkward, but it just takes some getting used to. Anyway, with all the running you've done to get this far, I'm sure a little armour couldn't slow you down much!"

Peridan continues to survey the army, eyes landing on the Wolves. He trots his horse over to them, bowing from his saddle. "Winterden wolves, I presume? Narnia thanks you for your service and for volunteering to participate."

Drune dips his head. "It is our honor to serve Narnia in such a way." He lets out a breath. "Hopefully we can help bring this to a swift end..."

Tempest says, "We are glad to be of service, Son of Adam." She nods in agreement with her packmate's words, falling quiet once more as she lifts her nose to continue scenting.

Edmund replies to Lucy, "It cannot hurt. Thank you, Lu." He beckons Corin to him again, more firmly this time, pitching his voice above the commotion. "Prince Corin, a word."

Shasta looks up to where the King is calling his friend. "I think King Edmund is looking for you."

Corin looks to Edmund and clucks to his pony, nudging him over to the King. "Yes, your Majesty?"

Edmund sets his charger in motion, riding a little way apart with Corin. He does not speak until they are at a distance where they can be seen but their conversation is not liable to be overheard.

Peridan gives the Wolves a another nod. "Still, your service is appreciated." He then moves down the line, encouraging the soldiers, giving out pieces of advice, and checking on last-minute details. He seems tense, awaiting the charge.

Drune gives the Son of Adam another nod and shifts a bit, eyes wandering the gathering once more before he leans in and mutters something to his Alpha.
Drune mumbles "... ready ... ...", to Tempest.

Aliyah lets her gaze flicker from one to the next as they speak. She remains silent other than a few nods, however, solely focused on what lies ahead.

Corin mumbles "Oh, ... ... ... I know what you're thinking. This ... fellow will ... someone ... ... ... him in the battle, and I will do ... ...", to Edmund.

Edmund gives a slight shake of his head.
Edmund mumbles "We do wish ... to take ... ... him, ... what we ... say ... ... is this, ... ... ... ... too ... ... ... risked ... the coming ... ... the Calormenes were to ... ... ... you, ... ... ... used as leverage ... your ... You may ... ... you are ... stay out ... ... fighting. Those are our ...", to Corin.

Tempest looks to Drune, quiet for a moment before she nods firmly. "You?" she asks him.

Drune's expression is hard as stone as he nods, claws digging into the ground.
Drune mumbles something incomprehensible to Tempest.

Shasta watches Corin ride away from him, looking uncertain and a little lost in the big crowd.

Tempest nods her affirmation.
Tempest mumbles something incomprehensible to Drune.

Corin makes a sulky face. "That's just what that dwarf said. It's not fair! He's my father and he needs my help too!"

Edmund's manner is regal as he addresses Corin.
Edmund mumbles "... is ... ... question of fairness or ... ... ... ... ... assisting your ... by ensuring ... ... come through the ... safely. ... ... have ... ... ... ... ... ... your ... ... ... ... Your Highness, you must ... the part ... a ... ... and do as ... are asked.", to Corin.

Nimera nudges her sister, muttering to her. Her eyes still assess the army.
Nimera mumbles "... we survive this, ... ... to speak with ... afterwards.", to Sigyn.

Sigyn gives her sister a look that's half apologetic and half just as miffed with her. She nods simply, looking to their leaders to await further orders.

Lucy watches her brother pull Corin aside and sighs softly again as words are exchanged.

Corin squishes his lips into the most displeased expression imaginable, but nods to the King at length. "I understand, Sire."

Edmund holds Corin's glance for a few long moments; then, satisfied with what he sees there, he nods once and brings his charger about to rejoin the others.

Drune keeps a keen eye on the King, looking ready to spring at the first order.

There is a distant thudding that comes from the south. Soon an Eagle appears on the horizon, soaring through the air. He lands next to Peridan's horse and the two exchange words. The man then trots his charger towards the King. "Your Majesty. The scouts are back. Rabadash's army is focused on battering down the gates of Anvard. The sun is in a good position for us to attack from the rear and catch them off guard."

Lucy removes her cape at the sight of the scout, tucking it into her saddlebags.

Shasta hangs tight upon the reins of his pony as she bucks a little at the sound. With some effort, he manages to get her under control.

Haft glances at the boy on the horse.

Corin's pony even has a sulk in its step as it takes Corin back over to Shasta. "Come on. Queen Lucy will be with the archers, so we had better get moving."

Shasta mumbles "... ... not going ... then?", to Corin.

Edmund addresses the assembled Narnians, his voice carrying well to each ear. He is every inch the king as he speaks to them. "So, once more into battle, dear friends. In times of peace, there is nothing which so becomes an honest Narnian as quiet humility, but now the blast of war sounds shrilly in our ear, and we must answer. Summon up all the courage in your noble hearts and rise, true Beasts of Narnia. Your Kings and Queens summon you against our foes. Any Narnian who has no stomach for the fight, leave with our entire goodwill. Those of you who choose to take up teeth and hooves and horns and blades and claws will be remembered long after this day passes, for you will render service to the Lion and to your Kings and Queens. As for us, we go forth to meet the Calormenes in their strength, and we will not flinch. We will not cower. We will not be afraid. Follow your spirit and upon this charge, cry, "For Narnia and the Lion." He raises his sword, and moments after, Edmund and his charger are a blur as they charge forward toward Anvard.

Peridan nods as the King speaks. He speaks quietly to the banner carrier, who begins to move forward in front of the King. The Lord Peridan yells, "For Narnia and the North!" He follows his King.

Aliyah steps forward as the Eagle approaches, her ears and tail twitching, whether from nerves or pent-up energy, it is hard to tell. Doing this causes her to wind up near the Leopards. She offers a nod to both. As the King speaks, she bristles, ready to run into battle.

Drune sucks in a deep breath as the King finishes. His claws rip into the ground as he springs forward, loping after the King, a fire growing in his eyes.

Lucy shouts, "For Narnia and for Aslan!"

Tempest echoes Queen Lucy's shout. "For Aslan!"

Nimera leaps forward, moving into battle.

Corin makes a gesture for Shasta to keep his voice down, and shares a sly wink with him before kicking his pony forward.

Lucy leads the archers to the rear of the line, from which point they can provide cover for those charging.

Shasta looks somewhat alarmed at the wink, but follows suit.

Edmund's charger pricks back its ears and canters at full speed once the banner has been raised. The younger King of Narnia sits steady in the saddle, and the sound of his approach is like thunder.

Queen Lucy and the company of archers take up their positions from a vantage point behind the main line. Meanwhile, the balance of the Narnian forces charge down upon those assaulting Anvard's gates.
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Continue reading this log in Part 2, or click here to return to the table of contents.

This is Part 2 of this log. Read Part 1 here.
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Queen Lucy and the company of archers take up their positions from a vantage point behind the main line. Meanwhile, the balance of the Narnian forces charge down upon those assaulting Anvard's gates.

Before the Gates of Anvard
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A flat green space at the foot of the mountains opens here, sheltered by the
slopes of the northern mountains. Stormness Head looms high to the northeast,
its peak nearly always in clouds, and the double-headed peak of Mount Pire
rises over the trees to the northwest. A steep ridge like the side of a bowl
curves around from the northwest to the east, and the ground descends into
dense forest to the south.

At the center of the clear area is a small turreted castle, facing east. Its
weathered walls are built of large blocks of red granite that glitter faintly
in the sunlight, and elegantly functional ironwork graces the front gates and
portcullis. A stone cobbled road wide enough to easily facilitate the passage
of carts and carriages crosses over the broad green lawns from the castle
gates, disappearing into the trees to the east.
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Rabadash grumbles in frustration at the ram's slow progress. "Put your backs into it, you dogs! I want those gates open. Your empire demands it!"

Ilgamuth mumbles "... did ... O ... patient ... ... that ... ... gate ... ... ... ... ...", to Ilgamuth.

Obligingly, the portcullis raises and the great gates swing open with a mighty creak. Knights and lords on chargers thunder out, riding down any unfortunate soldier on foot in their way.

Azrooh's eyes are fair bursting from his head with rage as he whips his men into another swing, when the gates finally begin to screech open. The ramsmen are caught off guard, slipping and losing their footing as the ram strikes the gate side-on and shoves them roughly backward. The ram drops, crushing a handful of Calormenes in the process.

Edmund thunders forward, carried on the back of a charger, sword in his hand. His approach is preceded by the cry of "For Narnia and Aslan!" taken up by a chorus of voices. The sound of Edmund's cry is like thunder. "Forward," he shouts.

Sigyn crests the ridge, her paws pounding the dirt as she directs herself towards the Calormene cavalry. She leaps for a horse, claws extended as she roars and slams into the horse's flank. The beast screams in terror and shies into the other horses surrounding it.

Nimera rushes into the fray, roaring with everything she has. She leaps at the first horse she notices.

Sigyn throws back her head and roars into the sky.

The Calormenes keeping watch against outsiders have little time to take in the gate's opening before the Cats are amongst them. Most of them scatter in terror at the sight of the approaching demons. Ilgamuth barely manages to keep his own horse under control as he calls out to his scattering men, "Cowardly fools! Stay and fight or the punishment you will receive will be a thousand times worse than anything a demon can bring!"

Drune is on the Cats' hind-paws as he crests the hill, letting out a ferocious howl before leaping in after them, going for the nearest Calormene horse.

Peridan comes following his King, his eyes filled with fire for his homeland. He guides his horse, swinging his sword. "NARNIA! ARCHENLAND!"

Tempest launches herself across the ground, howling at the top of her lungs as she tackles the first foreign soldier she reaches and snaps at the horses.

Rabadash whips about in his saddle, regarding the Narnian chargers with shock. Soon the expression refines down to cold fury at the interference, and he screams, "Tarkaans! We are betrayed. Ilgamuth, hold that line! Do not let these demons any closer!"

Aliyah runs at full speed towards the fray, jaws snapping at the leg of a soldier.

Haft raises his sword, face grim. "Archenland!" he bellows.

Anradin gives a great shout as the line of horses and beasts appears upon the ridge and charges downward. "To your mounts, archers, and about!" As one, the archers flanking the ram most closely are in their saddles with backs toward each other, wheeling to face the horses charging toward them from both directions.

Lune rides out the gates at full speed, sword in hand, leading the charge. He roars, swinging his sword, "Archenland! Archenland!"

Dar rides beside his King, bent low over the saddle for speed, armor clanking. As he rides, he wields a blade.

Darrin rides on the opposite side of King Lune from his brother. He takes up the King's cry as he charges, wielding his sword. "Archenland!"

Cole charges behind his King, sword out and mouth open as he lets out a battle cry, swinging at the nearest Calormene.

Colin urges his black steed forward, close on the heels of the King as they pour out of the gate, bellowing a battle cry of "Archenland!" as he points his blade for the Calormene army.

Tran charges from the gates behind the King and the brothers Dar and Darrin. His sword is drawn and ready, and the cry, "Archenland!" is on his lips.

Shar rides in behind the others as well, taking up the cry.

Chlamash exclaims, "Men! Form ranks and face these northern barbarians!"

Azrooh presses his back to the ram, eyes wide as the Archenlander forces charge past him, trying to keep out of the way as he reassesses the field of battle.

Ilgamuth manages to bring his horse back under control, swiping at the demons with his scimitar while calling out to his men, "Hold your lines! Fight back!" Most of those who did not fall in the initial assault regain their composure, beginning to retaliate.

Aliyah holds tightly to the soldier's leg and yanks him off the horse, pouncing as he falls and burying her teeth into his neck with a snarl.

Nimera continues her assault on the horses of the dismounted soldiers, clawing and roaring.

Sigyn slashes at every horse, roaring to scare them and drive them out from under their masters. Calormenes tumble left and right as their terrified beasts flee the Cat's claws.

Corin sits on his pony a little way up the hill with Shasta, looking down on the field. He shifts in his saddle restlessly.

Six massive giants thunder down the slope behind the Narnian army, every footfall shaking the ground.

Johan rushes out from the gate, holding his sword up high, his eyes scouring the area for any Calormene who would dare to come near.

A giant swings low, knocking a goodly number of Calormenes to the flying.

Azrooh's eyes turn to saucers at the giants' advance, and he breaks his cover, remounting his horse and tearing off at a gallop back to join the Calormene line by Ilgamuth. "With me, men! We are outflanked! Draw a circle against the enemy!"

Ilgamuth barely manages to avoid the giant, unslinging his crossbow and fixing a bolt in it as he rides. He urges his horse some way away before standing in his saddle and aiming at the giant's eye just as Azrooh approaches.

Anradin brandishes his scimitar and cries out to his now-mounted archers, "The slopes! A volley upon the slopes! They will fall where they ride, by the gods!"

Chlamash leads his men forward to attack the oncoming Narnian army, his scimitar extended. "For the glory of the EMPIRE!"

Drune yanks a Calormene from his steed, slashing him with his claws before turning and quickly catching sight of his packmate in the chaos. Bounding after her, he leaps atop the Calormene she just downed, claws digging into him.

The giant, struck in the eye, drops like a felled tree, crushing anything unfortunate enough to not get out of its way.

Edmund engages Corradin, one of the Calormene Tarkaans, a giant with arms like the trunks of trees. For some time, there is only the clang of sword against scimitar as they trade off gaining ground. Edmund brings his blade up just in time to avoid a nasty swipe to his arm. The young King's features reflect bravery and determination; the Tarkaan's snarl is a rictus of bravado as he pivots and charges at Edmund again.

Haft mumbles "... show you ... ... ... ...", to Haft.

Tempest moves from one fallen soldier to the next, making quick work of them.

Rabadash's eyes burn with fury and he charges toward a centaur, slashing his scimitar wildly against its side. "Die, you foul demons! You shall not have my prize. Your barbarian queen shall be mine!"

Shasta stares down on the field, only taking his eyes away to glance at his friend.

Peridan urges his horse towards the nearest soldier, dispatching him with his sword. His face is grim and collected, though the fire has not died down in his eyes.

Eston, in the chaos of the battle, does not realise that an enemy soldier is behind him until he is struck. He collapses from the blow.

Aliyah darts among the horses and soldiers the Leopards have caused to fall, scaring some horses into trampling their former riders. As one tries to rise to his feet, she leaps atop him, finishing him off quickly.

Several Fauns dash amongst the fray, vaulting and attacking with their pikes.

Tran makes use of his shield to fend off the arrows still hailing down upon the gates. With the sword wielded in his other hand, he slashes at the Calormenes who still stand around the fallen ram.

Corin catches Shasta's look and flashes his version of an apologetic grin. "For Anvard! For Narnia and the North!" he cries and sets his pony into a terrific canter downhill!

Shasta's pony follows after Corin's, with very little direction from Shasta.

Haft joins battle against one of the Calormene infantry, swinging with grim competence.

Lune holds a broadening line in front of the gate with his lords, booming joyful threats to any Calormene who comes near before dispatching them with terrible skill and fury.

Dar raises his shield aloft to catch an arrow whizzing by just before it threatens to strike Lune's mount.

Johan notices Eston getting hit in his back by an enemy. He rushes towards him, holding his sword up high. He slashes with as much strength as he can, aiming for the shoulder of the Calormene.

Cole raises his sword, blocking an incoming attack before swiftly cutting across the offending Calormene's midsection and felling him.

Nimera snarls as she continues to bite and claw. However, a stray blade smacks her on the side, causing her to yowl with fury and pain.

Eston tries to stand, but collapses again, though he does see the Calormene soldier stagger under Johan's blow.

Azrooh finds himself closing with a ferocious Bear, at least twice his height and Tash only knows how many times his weight. He makes up for his size with determination, however, the the flash in his eyes matching the glint of his sword, and he swings out to stab the beast.

Edmund presses his advantage. The Tarkaan he fights sneers and makes one more attempt to force Edmund's blade out of his hand. Edmund's charger springs forward, taunting Corradin by taking the King just out of reach. Enraged, the Calormene mutters an invective against the barbarian king and, taking up his scimitar in his massive hands, swings it in a direct arc at Edmund.

Aliyah glances sharply in Nimera's direction, paws barely touching the ground as she approaches the Leopard. Snarling, she rears up to send the one with the blade flying before he can attack Nimera again.

Ilgamuth's horse is hit by an arrow. It is all he can do to jump out of its saddle, rolling on the ground to avoid being crushed under the horse. He scrambles to his feet as fast as he can, now finding himself on foot and engaged in battle with a goat-footed demon.

Corin barrels into a Calormene soldier, using his naked fists to punch him out of his saddle, with all of the weight of his pony's charge behind him. The soldier groans and sprawls to the ground in the mud of combat. Corin cheers and leaps off his mount, drawing his sword.

Johan pulls his sword back and slashes at the Calormene again as he staggers back, aiming to finish it.

Colin slices left and right at several passing soldiers before engaging in a clash with a Calormene cavalryman, which results in both of them being unseated.

The Calormene fighting Johan tries to fight back, but in the end it is Johan who is victorious.

Haft turns from dispatching his Calormene and turns to see the young Prince enter the battle. He attempts to move toward the boy, but the battle sweeps them apart.

Darrin fights with determination at Lune's side, his horse gradually moving in the direction of the downed Calormene engaged with the Faun.

Peridan rams his sword mercilessly at the heads of Calormene soldiers. He is still mounted, using his charger to dodge blows and soldiers.

Rabadash swings with the swiftness and ferocity of a demon himself, for all of his talk, and rains down several cruel blows on the centaur.

Anradin rides into the fray as the full force of the Narnian line reaches his own. At his command, his men switch to their scimitars in place of their bows and ride in behind him. One of his first targets is a small mounted figure, and he slashes at his sword arm.

Lune catches a glimpse of his son--one of them--and his face wipes briefly with horror followed by exasperation. He clunks a soldier heavily on the helm with the hilt of his sword and urges his men on, claiming more ground.

Chlamash finds himself engaged with a centaur. The blows are terrific, and Chlamash's horse rears several times!

Drune ducks under a sword quickly before twisting hard and latching onto that Calormene's arm, quickly yanking him from his saddle.

Nimera gives a glance of gratitude at Aliyah before rallying herself and entering the fray once again.

Edmund narrowly avoids the Tarkaan's blade, but the momentum is enough to allow him to raise his own sword, and with a single sweep, bring it down on the man's neck. Corradin falls to the earth with a loud thud, his head landing just nearby.

Johan turns to where Eston kneels. He clamps one of his arms around one of Eston's, pulling him back towards the castle wall, next to the gate.

Dar follows Lune's gaze, his face going grim to see the Prince at the fringes of the battle. A Calormene approaches too close and Dar strikes at him, driving the man back from their position.

Ilgamuth makes a fierce slash at the Faun, causing it to buckle as he deals the finishing blow.

Azrooh slays the Bear with a very lucky thrust, shoved upward through its gut. It slumps forward, heavy and ready to crush him. He manages to pull himself out from under it at the last moment, and he heaves a few relieved breaths before scanning the field once more. "Where is the King of Anvard! Who is the leader of this motley band of devils and cowards?"

Eston, yelling out in pain, allows himself to be half-dragged, half-carried over to the wall, too injured to walk properly himself.

The giants make their way through the battle line, swinging their clubs as they go. More Calormenes fly through the air, only to fall hard to the ground again.

Corin soon has his Calormene foe on the ground again, despite his attempts to scrabble back to his feet in the slippery mud that surrounds him. Corin's moves are a little clumsy, but there is great strength behind them, and the Calormene is fairly beaten black and blue with the princeling's sword.

Shasta's pony takes him right through the battle, hardly slowing for it. Shasta, sword arm held uselessly out with the hilt not tightly against his wrist, but loose and waving about, manages to avoid Anradin's swing at him because of his pony's speed, but the sword is knocked right out of his hand in the process.

Aliyah yelps as one of the giants' targets falls, his sword slicing into her shoulder on his way down. She stumbles momentarily but quickly regains her balance, muttering to herself, "I will not let this happen."

Colin quickly dispatches the Calormene he is battling with and he leaps over the fallen body, coming face to face with Anradin, a Tarkaan with a crimson beard and gold jewelry. His expression is grim and deadly and he raises his blade to do battle.

Johan pushes Eston softly up against the wall, making sure he is still awake. He peers over his shoulder to check for potential Calormene soldiers before turning back to Eston. "Stay here... stay awake!"

Edmund continues to pursue the enemy, his sword never ceasing from its deadly work.

Adair stumbles over the wreckage of war, causing Peridan to fall to the ground. He quickly recovers and starts engaging on foot, using his blade skillfully.

Darrin stabs a Calormene foot soldier through the neck and, clear for the moment, lands his gaze on the Calormene who challenged Lune. He glances to Lune and his brother, swipes sweat from his brow, and drives his horse after the man Dar has just driven back.

Eston sets his face with determination, though he is pale and his fists are clenched at the pain. "I ain't gonna die here, Johan."

Rabadash hears Azrooh's cry and grins like a wild animal. "Find him, Azrooh! Make sure these dogs pay for their insolence with their very blood!" He whirls about, searching for the King of these northern barbarians. "Where is the Narnian who calls himself King? Who denied me my rightful bride?"

Haft sees the boy lose his sword, and, assuming it to be Corin, thrusts fiercely through the Calormenes in that direction.

Cole continues slashing through the Calormene ranks, ducking under a few blows before taking a stab at a passing Calormene.

Nimera is at the Wolf's side, hissing and biting at the soldier who is approaching. "Aliyah, stick with me." It is not an suggestion.

Ilgamuth has no sooner finished dispatching the Faun than he finds himself engaged in battle with an Archenlandish foot soldier.

Shasta manages to gain some control over his pony, but only just as a spear looms overhead. He ducks it, dropping the reins in the effort, and she panics again, throwing him.

Sigyn springs into the air, leaping at a mounted soldier who quickly meets the ground.

Aliyah nods to the Leopard. "We can do more damage together," she says, claws raking at another oncoming soldier.

Johan nods towards Eston. "Indeed... you won't!" He turns around, holding his sword up again and rushing back into battle.

Haft pales, seeing the boy fall.

Anradin, after effectively dispatching his small opponent's weapon, wheels just in time to face Colin, the knight who has raised his sword against him. As he does so, a third opponent's halberd swings right for his head. He ducks and rolls, which allows him to avoid the blow but takes him out of his saddle.

Corin finally lands a direct blow to his opponent's head with the flat of his blade. The life drains out of the Calormene’s punch-drunk eyes and he collapses to the ground in a heap. Corin whoops and holds his sword high before mounting his pony and charging the next unlucky victim!

Lune switches his sword from one hand to the other, wheeling his horse to face the Tarkaan who called him out. Seeing his opponent is on foot, he dismounts, raising his sword in challenge.

Nimera sticks by the wolf, the two lashing out with their teeth and claws.

Colin advances upon Anradin now that they are on equal ground. He smashes at him with his sword repeatedly, his speed and agility a deadly force.

Azrooh grins fiercely and waves his scimitar as he advances on King Lune, his manner wild. "I will kill you myself, and earn the eternal gratitude of my Prince. With you out of the way, your forces will scatter like the leaves of autumn."

Lune doesn't waste time on small talk. He smiles grimly and swings his greatsword in a two-handed attack.

Shar lifts his shield, bashing it against the scimitar of an oncoming attacker and overpowering him.

Edmund challenges another Calormene soldier, calling out encouragement to the group of Wolves nearby him and reminding each of them how proud he is to fight alongside them.

Johan, angered by the attack on his friend, rushes to a nearby Calormene soldier, holding his sword straight in front of him and intending to stab right through the soldier.

Chlamash urges his forces, "Fight, you dogs! For Calormen! For glory! For the Empire!"

Tempest's white teeth flash as she catches a Calormene by the leg and brings him down.

Aliyah's fur prickles. She glances over her shoulder just in time to see a blade heading for the Leopard. "Nimera! Behind you!" Whirling, she lunges upward, clawing at the face of the attacker, gouging one eye in the process. As the eye goes sightless, the man drops his sword.

Haft, having lost sight of his goal, continues moving toward where he saw the boy fall.

Anradin lands on his feet as he falls from his mount, but he is bent over and at a disadvantage, and only manages to avoid a fatal hit by holding his shield above his head. Despite this, he takes more than one bruising blow to his armor. He slashes below his shield, aiming for his opponent's legs.

Rabadash scowls like a rabid rat as he searches out King Edmund, slashing at beast and man alike, beating them back with every ounce of his strength.

Shasta is lost in the fray of battle and does not get up. His pony bolts, abandoning him.

Dar advances, attempting to fight his way through to rejoin Lune.

Azrooh braces King Lune's attack with his scimitar and grins savagely as he shoves back against him, attempting to knock him off balance backward.

Ilgamuth slashes at the Archenlandish foot soldier, who falls to his knees. He puts the scimitar to the man's chest, finishing him.

Haft, dispatching a Calormene, finally finds himself near his fallen quarry. In the thick of battle there's no time to see whether the boy is alive or dead, but he makes it his business to keep any enemies as far away as possible.

Tran fights on beside his brothers in arms.

Darrin is just behind his brother when his path is blocked by Ilgamuth, the scarred Calormene who has just slain a foot soldier. He urges his horse towards the man, swinging his sword.

Drune ducks under another sword before attempting to pull yet another soldier from his mount. In the process, though, he is caught in the side by another sword and lets out a loud snarl, falling to the side.

Corin suddenly spots Shasta lost in the middle of the battlefield and pelts toward him, crying, "Are you hurt? Get up! It's not safe here." He urges him toward the edge of the combat.

Peridan continues his fight on foot, finding himself deeper into the Calormene soldiers. He roars, "Is that all you have?!"

Johan turns to another Calormene soldier, yelling out, "I'll show you how a barbarian fights, cowards!" He slashes wildly.

Colin leaps into the air, kicking the crimson-bearded face right in the teeth. He lifts his blade and rams it through the the front of Anradin's chainmail, right about where his heart should be. Yanking his blade free, he turns and slashes at another passing foot soldier.

Nimera continues her attack, sticking by Aliyah. She continues to scan the crowd for her sister.

Anradin cries out as he loses his teeth, and is unable to return a blow of his own before he is pierced by Colin's sword. As it is pulled from him once more, he falls to his knees, then forward onto the field of battle, and moves no more.

Lune's face is calm as he battles, parrying every blow with powerful, jarring counter-swings. His footwork is excellent and he never once loses his balance, but he is distracted when he catches sight of both his sons past the Tarkaan's shoulder.

Ilgamuth catches sight of the mounted Archenlander just in time to fling himself out the way of Darrin's blow. Though he nearly loses his footing, he manages to catch himself and swivels around, slashing at the horse's neck in an attempt to force a dismount.

Shasta manages to get up. He races, stumbling, off the field.

Dar grimaces and fends his opponent off with a cleverly placed cutting blow. He grunts in frustration, seeing his brother's plight and unable to come to Darrin's assistance.

Azrooh's good humour evaporates as Lune turns his advance back on him. His eyes glow with building fire as he struggles to push back. When the King's attention appears diverted, he presses his advantage by aiming a kick to his forward leg!

Chlamash turns his charger towards the Narnian-Calormene line. "For Calormen!" he shouts, charging!

Aliyah growls as the sightless one finally falls. She lunges downward, biting him harshly in the abdomen. "Brave are you. Lasted longer than some." She turns, continuing the attack alongside the Leopard.

Darrin's horse lets out a scream as it sinks to its knees. Darrin barely manages to leap free of the saddle before the horse collapses. He ducks and rolls, coming up to face Ilgamuth with a snarl.

Peridan turns as Chlamash is charging him. He leaps to the side, raising his sword to counter any overhead blow.

Drune is on his paws seconds later, letting out a growl of pain. The sword dug DEEP into his side, and blood trails from the wounds as he dives under another sword and hobbles into the gates of the castle.

Edmund orders some of the Narnians after a group of Calormenes who are fleeing toward the woods instead of facing the Talking Beasts. His horse turns about, ready for another oncomer, and the sun glints off the Narnian King's battle crown.

Haft is startled by the appearance of the actual Prince, but there's no time to dwell on it. Both boys seem to be safe, and he has other things to keep him occupied.

Ilgamuth grins a very lopsided grin at Darrin's expression, making a swipe at him with his scimitar.

Johan quickly looks over at Eston, checking if he's still awake.

Lune refocuses on Azrooh, new fury in his face. He shoves the man back and aims for the vulnerable point between his helmet and hauberk with the edge of his blade.

Chlamash's horse takes him past Peridan. With a snarl, he turns his horse around, swinging his blade at the Narnian's side.

Darrin catches the blow on his shield and then pushes back at Ilgamuth with it, lashing out over the top of the shield with his sword.

Eston is still awake, barely. He drifts in and out of consciousness.

Rabadash erupts into maniacal laughter as he turns to see that it is a Talking Dog that has torn at the flesh of his shin. "Of course!" he shrieks, "Of course these animals would have dogs to fight for them. Come here, beast!" He shakes his leg free and swings wildly at its head. "I'll have you playing dead for me in no time!"

Dar lashes out at the Calormene in his way, sword swinging again and again as he tries to get back to his brother's side.

Peridan grimaces a bit as Chlamash nicks his side, but he leaps out of the way before getting too hurt. He swing his sword, trying to knock the man from his horse.

Azrooh swallows as the tip of Lune's sword lightly scrapes his vulnerable neck, but none of the fury leaves his eyes. "You think to take me prisoner, you dog? You wish me to surrender?"

Chlamash counters the sword, keeping his balance as his horse dances about.

Johan blocks the attacks of a Calormene soldier, pressing his sword against the scimitar, pushing the soldier back.

Ilgamuth staggers backwards under the force of Darrin's parry, cursing under his breath as he only just manages to catch the blow on the edge of his own shield.

Peridan grimaces but still keeps his ground. He looks up briefly, whistling to see if Adair is nearby.

Lune says, holding the greatsword steady, "Your surrender or your life, the choice is yours. Drop your weapon!"

Corin follows Shasta and looks the lad over quickly. "Are you going to be alright?" he asks urgently.

Edmund commands the Narnians with an assurance beyond his years. They have begun to clear away pockets of the forces Rabadash brought with him. "Cats to me," Edmund calls.

Azrooh hurls a curse at the barbarian king and swings his own blade about, aiming for Lune's neck!

Darrin presses his advantage, stabbing low at Ilgamuth's middle in an attempt to get below his shield cover.

Shasta says, "I'm fine. Just a bit knocked about is all." He breathes hard, rubbing the spot where he fell. "Think maybe we should have done as King Edmund said."

Dar parries another thrust from his adversary, using his height as leverage to gain a few precious feet of ground.

Rabadash finds the Dog more difficult and tenacious than he expected. It locks its jaws into his calf where it is more difficult to shake off, fangs sinking deeply into his flesh and forcing a groan from his chest. He scrabbles, punching the beast's head and trying to knock it away with the hilt of his weapon.

Hearing the King's cry, Nimera turns to Aliyah. "Go find another to fight alongside." Again, this is not a suggestion. She roars and dashes to her King's side.

Ilgamuth lets out a curse that's more a cry of pain as the sword leaves a gash across his waist. "Nephew of a jackal!" He slashes at his attacher fiercely, ignoring the pain.

Sigyn bounds over fallen bodies to appear at King Edmund's side.

Lune's blade leaves Azrooh's neck to parry the scimitar's blow. He does something complicated and hard to follow with his wrist that ends with Azrooh's scimitar flying several feet away. Lune's blade returns to the Tarkaan's neck, the point hovering just below his chin. "Yield!"

Corin grins, shaking his head. "Are you joking? This is adventure! This is where heroes are made!" He cinches his armor and runs back into battle, knocking the legs out from under an unsuspecting Calormene just as a centaur is bearing down on him.

Darrin just laughs at his opponent, looking more amused than offended by the insult. He ducks behind his shield at the flurry of blows and shoves /hard/, aiming a quick swipe at the Calormene's neck once he's hopefully thrown him off balance.

Aliyah nods as Nimera disappears. Though she'd rather go with her, she does notice a familiar Eagle. She gives a sharp bark to get the Eagle's attention, and with one signal, they are off again, slashing at more of the soldiers. Her energy is waning at this point.

Azrooh's breath comes in furious snorts. "Yield to a barbarian? Death first!" he cries, and lashes out with his feet in an effort to knock the man backward.

Lune says, "Very well," and lops the Tarkaan's head off neatly.

Chlamash charges Peridan, swinging his sword towards his opponent as he does.

Shar finds himself at his eldest son's side. He makes quick work of a second Calormene heading Dar's way.

Tempest snaps at another Calormene, grabbing his wrist when he tries to strike her with his blade.

Edmund instructs the Cats who have reached him, "Go after those who attempt flight. If they surrender, give them quarter. Do no killing unless they leave you no choice." He catches sight of Peridan's situation and swings off of his horse, pushing through the ranks to relieve him. "Hold," he calls to the Calormene attacking Peridan, his voice ringing out.

Shasta shakes his head at the other boy as he tries to catch his breath. He dodges a haphazard spear tossed his way and finds a good out-of-the-way spot to keep out of the commotion.

Haft aids Tempest, slipping his sword beneath the Calormene's armor.

Ilgamuth is knocked back, falling to the ground. He manages to use his shield to block the blow, but his efforts to stand are in vain.

Sigyn nods her understanding and with a quick glance at her sister, springs forward to chase down any soldier attempting to flee the battle.

Peridan stumbles a bit, looking gratefully at the King. He mutters to him.
Peridan mumbles "... ... ... ... side ... you ... it, Sire.", to Edmund.

Darrin places a well-aimed kick at Ilgamuth's shield arm, knocking the shield aside, and drives his sword at the downed man.

Nimera also nods and rushes after her sister, yowling at those fleeing.

Dar's face is set in grim determination as he finishes his own skirmish, his sword striking out and the Calormene falling.

Ilgamuth's shield arm bends back awkwardly at the kick, as the shield is still fastened. A searing pain shoots up his arm as the shield, coupled with the kick, causes the arm to break. In this moment of pain, he is unable to do anything to defend himself against the next blow.

Rabadash finally beats the Dog to the ground, leaving it in an unconscious heap. He sucks in a few deep breaths before looking about the field and spying Edmund at last, closing with Chlamash. His grin is hungry as he galumphs over to join the Tarkaan.

Colin finds himself in close proximity to Darrin and quickly engages a soldier lunging for the younger knight. He disposes of him and turns, looking for another.

Edmund nods to Peridan. "It is an honor to have you at our side," the King says. He calls out to Chlamash, "Will you yield?" Rabadash's approach is greeted with steely calmness. "Very well, Rabadash. Here we are. Will you yield, or will you face us?"

Chlamash turns his horse as he hears the low commands. "At last, a worthy opponent!" He swings his blade and charges, aiming for King Edmund’s head.

Darrin nods his thanks to Colin as he finishes off Ilgamuth. He wheels, scanning the field for his brother and the King.

Rabadash grins like a toothy demon, his skin is so flush with the heat of battle. "The question is will you dare to face me, you treacherous king among demons!" He heaves his scimitar in a great swing at Edmund's side!

Peridan nods at the King. However, as he hears the words of the Tarkaan, he turns, face aflame. With a yell, Peridan rushes forward, swinging his sword at Chlamash's horse, downing it.

Tran fights not far from his King and fellow knights. As he dispatches one Calormene, another rushes up to take his place, and Tran leaps over the newly fallen man to meet him.

Johan runs back over to Eston at the wall. "Hey... are you still awake? Can you show me your wound?"

Corin charges toward the Wolves and Leopards where they are picking off stragglers, his sword flying aloft. He stands by them and fights with all his strength.

Edmund stands his ground, facing the onslaught of the two Calormenes unbowed. He narrowly escapes Rabadash's blade, but he does not yield. "It is you who have committed treachery, Rabadash, and you will answer for it." He takes a firm hold on his sword and presses the attack.

Chlamash falls from his horse as the beast collapses, but he rolls to his feet and takes a swipe at the Narnian King's back.

Eston stirs slightly at Johan's words and shifts to show a very nasty-looking wound that just missed any of his armour.

Rabadash dances around Edmund, making sure that his attacks always flank the Tarkaan's, and keeping the Narnian King on the defence. "I answer to no northerner. Not you barbarians or the demons you call your subjects! It is you who will pay for your insolence!"

Johan inspects the wound. "Blast… you can't leave it open like that. I can wrap it if you want!"

Haft pursues those who flee toward the edge of the battle. He overtakes one Calormene and engages him, exchanging several blows before overcoming his opponent. Wiping his brow, he turns to see the boy he saw earlier, crouched at the outskirts of the field. But hadn't he just seen Prince Corin with the Great Cats? He pales, looking at the boy, and nearly misses the Calormene approaching from behind. Turning quickly, he raises his sword but stumbles backward.

Eston gives a weak nod at Johan's offer. "Yeah... don't want to bleed to death..."

Edmund swings a mighty blow in the direction of Chlamash's ornate breastplate. He dances as well, with a nobility that is out of keeping with his age, the King's sword acting as an extension of his hand. "You have already lost your prize, Rabadash," he states. "Our sister is not for you."

Peridan rushes to his King's side, wielding his sword. His face is grim and set as he tries to keep King Edmund from being killed.

Lune turns away from the dead Tarkaan, casting his eyes around for his sons. He breaks into a run, leaping over fallen soldiers to reach Corin. "/Thou/," he growls, blocking a blow meant for his son. "To the walls, young mischief. Behind the line, immediately if you please."

Haft falls to his back. Winded, he raises his sword again as the Calormene rushes forward. His enemy falls on top of him and Haft pushes the body off.

Johan rips off a piece of his shirt, wrapping it at round Eston's wound and tying it tightly. "Sorry... this is the best I could do."

Shasta is just visible, hidden behind a slope of hill in the green expanse.

Rabadash grimaces at Edmund's rejoinder and curses as Peridan joins in the fray, sending him back. "I shall regain my prize, by whatever force is required!"

Dar manages to reach Lune's side just as Archenland's King admonishes his son. His armor bears several dents from the fray, and his demeanor is somber.

Shar rides beside his eldest, eyes keen for his other son.

Corin looks up at this father first in pleasure and relief, but then realizes he has been caught and looks as guilty as seems appropriate. "Yes, Father," he replies sorrowfully, but keeps his sword at the ready as he jogs back to the castle walls.

Chlamash roars, locking his blade with Edmund, then turning to slice at the Narnian King's side.

Darrin ducks a blow from a Calormene foot soldier and strikes the man down, then looks to Colin, who has ended up fighting just at Darrin's back. "Sir Colin!" he calls out, having laid eyes on Lune and Dar. "Shall we to the King?" He gestures with his sword and blocks a blow from another soldier.

Haft rises, turning toward the slope of the hill.

Edmund presses his blade against the joint in Chlamash's armor, just enough to create pressure. "Chlamash, you see why you are brought here. Is it as you were told? Will you yield now? I vow to spare your life. Many of your countrymen are in retreat, and you see what has become of the others."

Colin turns when Darrin calls to him, and he nods clearly, looking in the direction Darrin indicates. He moves to his fellow knight's side and covers him as they move toward the King.

Tran is not far behind Sir Darrin and Sir Colin as they make their way toward their King.

Haft walks up the rise toward the boy. "Come, lad, you'll be alright now," he says thickly. "I think you'll be wanted below."

Dar's expression eases when he sees his brother approach. He nods in Darrin's direction, indicating to his father that both of his sons are well.

Lune follows close behind, not letting his son out of sight again, and glances around the battlefield quickly for a sign of the other boy. He takes his stand near the gate, saluting his knights with his sword as they join him, and nods toward Rabadash.

Darrin hacks his way through the remaining scattered ranks of Calormene foot soldiers, Colin at his side. He catches sight of Tran after a moment and gives the man a nod, angling his approach so that he can watch Tran's back as well. He's panting by the time they near the others, but he gives his brother a nod.

Tran acknowledges Lord Darrin's strategy with a nod and a turn to cover the other direction as they move.

Peridan aims his sword at the Prince, trying to push him away from the King as King Edmund engages the other Calormene.

Rabadash cries out in frustration as Peridan moves between him and his quarry. "Out of my way, you imbecile! Unless you wish your body to feed the ravens!" He leaps up onto a mounting block, grinning maniacally at his new advantage.

Feeling the blade against his armor, Chlamash recognizes his peril. He looks into the Narnian King's eyes as he speaks and sees many things there. "Truly, you are a worthy opponent, O Narnian King," he says, and extends his scimitar, hilt out and blade facing back at himself.

Edmund puts up his sword to accept Chlamash's in the ancient gesture of fealty. The younger of the Narnian Kings replies, "So we have sworn, and so will we guarantee, since you have pledged to take up arms against us no more. We know what it is to be swayed by lies and treachery, Chlamash. We accept your surrender. Go forward from this day and prove as good as your word."

As Rabadash and the very last of his men are defeated, King Lune and King Edmund claim their joint victory in the shadow of Anvard's gates.
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This is a log of all of the roleplay that took place among those who were sheltered within Anvard Castle during the second day of the siege.

The characters who appear in this log include Arael, Aryna, Fionna, Sehsis, and Tyre.
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Those not taking part in the castle’s defense have been waiting together within the great hall for nearly a full day. They are warm and fed, and have received occasional news, but have heard little to relieve their suspense.

Great Hall
!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!
!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!
You stand in the most impressive room in Anvard, the Great Hall. It is hung
with tapestries on every wall, lending warmth to the vast stone chamber. High
windows allow a small amount of light in from the outside, but most of the
illumination comes from decorative sconces hanging along each wall. At the
northwestern end of the Hall you see a raised dais, where the High Table
stands. The purple and gold banner of Archenland hangs over the dais.
!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!
!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!.vVVv.!

Aryna is in one of the corners, dozing fitfully as she leans against the wall from where she sits.

Arael is walking the perimeter of the room with her two young boy-cousins on either side of her. Her face looks tired and a little pale, but her posture is straight and she engages the boys in cheerful conversation as they walk about.

Sehsis is sat some way away from the rest of the group. He has not spoken a word to anyone the whole time he has been there.

Aryna jerks awake momentarily to look around the room and locate her son, who is sitting nearby her playing with a little girl his age. She leans her head back against the wall.

Tyre enters the hall from the kitchen with a servant. Some sounds can be heard outside both sets of doors. The servant is carrying a small harp.

Arael approaches the kitchen-maid who is serving pottage in one corner of the room. She smiles and exchanges a few friendly words with her as she helps her dish up several bowls, which she and the boys then carry back toward Aryna, Laya, and the younger children.

A dull thud rings out, and though not as loud as it would be outside, it has a way of reverberating around the room.

Aryna's eyes fly open and she sits upright, automatically reaching for her son.

Tyre is about to sit with the harp when the sound cracks across the hall. His head snaps up.

Sehsis looks up sharply at the sound, now trying to make himself more scarce than ever.

Arael startles and whips her head toward the doors of the hall as the great crash is heard. Tadden shrieks and drops his pottage in favor of gripping her apron, and Tad freezes in his spot, looking up at her in terror.

Bern goes silent, staring at his mama wide-eyed. His lip trembles, chin wobbling as he starts to cry. Aryna reaches out and snatches him into her arms, rising and moving to Arael's side in a flash. "What was that?" she hisses.

Fionna's small grandniece starts to wail, and her grandnephew clings tightly to his mother and aunt. "They're trying to bring down the gates! Like as to have had a spy inside them first," she mutters.

Tyre rises, the harp balanced in one palm, his other small hand raised. "Please, everyone!"

Aryna looks to Lord Tyre, brown eyes wide.

Another dull thud reverberates around the hall. With the hush that fell after the first, this one seems even louder, more ominous.

Sehsis does not react to the second thud, but still remains completely silent.

Fionna glances at the Calormene out of the corner of her eyes.

Aryna bites back a scream and clutches her son with one arm, the other reaching for Arael.

Tyre says, "Our knights: my brother and your lords, stand at the castle gates. We are well defended, and our gates are strongly built. Do not--ahem, let us not turn upon each other in our fear and do the work of our enemies for them." He waves them toward the foot of the dais. "Let us gather among each other and consider happier things. What singers have we among us?"

A third thud rings out loudly through the hall.

Tyre staggers just a little at the third assault.

Sehsis is in his own corner of the hall, away from the others. His mouth moves wordlessly as he murmurs a prayer for any of the gods that may be listening. He is stuck between a rock and a hard place, and has little thought in his mind other than the near certainty of approaching death.

Tyre waits until the crowd that seems liable to gather does. He is only shaking a little. He sits and begins to pluck at the harp, having provided his sister with an instrument of her own talents. He begins to sing in his reedy voice a folk song that most Archenlanders are liable to know. Neither his voice nor his fingers display much passion, but they are technically quite good, and some of the singers he has bidden to the front, though they begin shakily, are more invested in the medium.

The sounds of battle soon fill the room, shouts and clamoring, roars and screams.

Aryna's eyes widen once more when she hears the roaring. Bern whimpers as she holds him. Her voice, albeit quite shaky, joins the singers, barely audible.

Tyre nods some encouragement to one of the stronger singers, though his own voice falters a little.

Though the singers' voices go some way to drown out the terrible sounds, they are still heard chillingly clearly.

Arael clutches Tad and Tadden against her sides, huddling close to Aryna and to Laya, who is holding her small daughter. Both women join in the singing, though Arael's eyes are turned toward the doors of the hall.

Tyre's eyes flick up to the doors and to his sister, and then he lowers his head to stare determinedly at the harp, removing a hand long enough to push his glasses up his nose.

Aryna holds Bern even closer as the voices continue to attempt singing.

Over time, the singing dies out as the sounds of battle outside grow louder.

Tyre sets his harp back in place and stares blankly at the doors. Waiting seems all that can be done.

One of the older women who has succeeded in aiding Tyre and Avery approaches him timidly and they conference quietly. He looks a little clearer at the end of the talk, and rises. "We ought to take our evening meal, now." He picks out a few of those who look least shocked and directs them to begin serving. He stops at Aryna. "If you feel able, now would be a time for help."

Aryna unconsciously chews on her lower lip and she nods firmly. She passes Bern off to Laya and Arael and says steadily, "Tell me what to do."

The sounds of battle rage on. Perhaps it is that everyone is growing used to it, that it is becoming part of the background noise, but it seems to be dying down ever so slightly.

Arael looks away from the door and toward Lord Tyre as he speaks to her friend. She takes Bern as Aryna hands him to her, and moves into a place where she can sit with him in her lap. Tad and Tadden sit flanking her on either side, and Laya positions herself on Tadden's other side.

Tyre says, "We need servers. I think that if people are waiting too long their attention will be drawn back to the battle."

Aryna nods her agreement. "I can definitely do that." She attempts a shaky smile, nodding with determination.

Tyre moves to direct the lines.

Aryna moves to where she can assist with serving, rolling her sleeves to her elbows to get to work.

The sounds of battle seem to grow quieter as the lines assemble, though those gathered may chalk this up to clattering and the shuffling of feet, despite the lack of chatter.

Aryna smiles at each person she scoops up pottage for, glancing at Arael's family and Bern periodically to keep tabs on them. She absolutely refuses to look at the big closed doors.

Arael rocks Bern back and forth to comfort him when, now and again, he whimpers for his mother. As she waits for the lines to dwindle, she sits with her head back and her eyes on the ceiling, and is quiet aside from the occasional reassurance murmured to the children.

Sehsis watches the gathered people and stands suddenly, walking as far from them as he can manage.

Tyre's eyes catch Sehsis's movement, but he is too busy with organization to see to him as yet.

Sehsis leans against the far wall, arms folded, his fingers tapping his upper arm restlessly.

Tyre speaks with a teenage boy, who then fetches another tin of pottage and goes to bring it to Sehsis.

Sehsis stops his restless tapping as the boy approaches, and he accepts awkwardly. Though he seems calmer than he has been during the majority of the siege, something in his manner suggests he's still not entirely at ease.

Tyre continues to walk about even when the food has been served. He stumbles once on a crack between floorstones.

The sounds of battle continue to fade until eventually they quiet altogether. Those within the hall wait anxiously until a messenger comes running in with news of the King's victory in battle this day.
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