Heraldic Tales from Across the Lands: Dwarven field battles and the Battle of Ibiran
The tide of the war effort has turned quite sinister for the Holy Crusade.
The dwarven armies were greatly underestimated. In fact, they made a mockery of the boasting and prideful human forces, who fought tooth and nail to survive.
The field battle commanded by Bruttus was nearly a disaster, fought bravely by both sides. Unfortunately Penintent Tutlers' slightly greater numbers and superior forces won the day. Bruttus barely escaped with his life, rushing back to the shadowy figure which some purport truly masterminds the Crusader Army.
With the first of the crusader battles gone awry, a wave of panic and fear set into the Crusader Army, demoralizing all who became cognicent of this loss. Word of this defeat spread to the human armies in hushed whispers, growing in magnitude and awfulness as the tale unfolded. Duke Gryphter scrambled to give chase and finish Penitent from the crusader lands, for an enemy left alive will always return to wreak havok. However his forces were intercepted by a courier from the crusader leadership. Warning from leadership indicated that the retaking of Ibiran was paramount to the crusade, furthermore it was not as assured as once presumed.
In Ibiran, Ashes and tendrils of smoke arose from the wreckage left by the dwarves. The burnt bodies of the denizens clouding the air with it's sickly smell. The clever little rock humpers chose this village well, it's strategic sloping landscape heavily favoring defense. They lay in wait to ambush Sir Chumleys forces, who casually and most ignorantly marched into a most foul trap.
Directly in front of Chumleys' army was a crescent formation of dwarves. Chumleys forces stared incredully from the bottom of the high sloping hill. This vantage affording the dwarven army clear line of sight for ranged attacks. These stubby little bearded warriors were exceptionally patient and organized, holding their positions without fear, never wavering. They rained arrows and bolts down upon their foes incessantly. Centered atop the peak of the hill was a line of shielders, polearmers and two handers, backed ingeniously by another line of dwarven pikemen. Unusual tactis for the dwarves indeed.
Initially the battle was slow to move into action, both forces resigned to outwait their opponents and find a weakness. It quickly became clear that the dwarves were no fools. Men poured in to the slaughter, they tried to circumvent this line but were cut down by dwarves hiding in wait in the rubble of the village. Mercenary cavalarymen raked through Chumleys forces who struggled up the hill towards their enemies.
Both armies suffered significant casualties throught this battle. However the human forces were clearly losing men quicker than the dwarves. As the fighting ensued the Human army suffered from crippling losses and eventually desertion. Their communication lines were taken out first and foremost (teamspeak broke). Chumleys' army had very little in the way of strategy, as sporadic groups of men rushed a unified dwarven front. A few heroes valiantly went down swinging, taking out a fair number of dwarves. Ultimately though it was not enough, the dwarves inflicted devastating losses upon man. As the hours went on and night began to fall, the retreat horn was sounded. Many a man was cut down in the retreat. Commander Chumley barely escaping with his life and the lives of a few of his lieutenants. When he stumbled upon Gryphter's party he was bruised and bloodied… his men faring worse.
"This will not stand" said Gryphter (secretly nervous to engage his forces in his first ever battle), sending a small number of his men to safely escort Chumley back to the capital. Gryphters scouts reported the dwarven remnants to be small in number compared to his forces, however these scouts also reported that they were collecting much gear from the dead and piling more bodies upon their burning death pire. Not giving them much time to reorganize Gryphters forces surrounded the small village… as they prepare for a final blow in a valiant attempt to quell the Dwarven uprise.
