Drunkard's Walk Forums

While cleaning my room, I recently found a story I had written several years ago. I revised it, but I'd appreciate any C&C. This is the first part of it. In particular, the original version had basically no description of the various characters. Reading it now, are you getting a sense for the various characters? Can you see them? Should I add more description? Less? Also, is this an interesting start? Would you want to read more of this story? Yes, no, why?
Thanks. Again, any C&C is greatly appreciated.
--
Disclaimer: All the characters, with the sole exception of Taryn and her company, is of 3DO, the makers of Heroes of Might and Magic III.
The fly glided into a perfect landing. Its antennas quivered as it contemplated the great mysteries of the universe namely, whether or not the blood would gush forth, hot and full of vitality. Folding its wings back, it settled itself, adjusted its position, and extended its utensil, as a diner would prepare for a meal. A moment later, the fly died an ignoble death.
Tkeshins arse! Whose idiot idea was this? Taryn grimaced as she shook the fly guts off her hand then glanced backward to assess her companys status. Seeing the all clear signal from her lieutenants, she turned back. At six feet tall, she towered over many a man (to their dismay) and her broad shoulders enabled her to carry the heavy armor of a cavalier when she wore it anyway. Ring mail was hot and heavy especially when there was not a cloud in sight, and Taryn had compromised by wearing a leather jerkin. Her dirty blond hair spiked out beneath a battered helm and dark green eyes slid sideways. As she took in her companions calm composure, she muttered and irritably swiped at the sweat beading on her forehead.
The person in question stared ahead, head covered by a heavy, brown hood and form almost swallowed in the cloak attached to it, but sharply defined cheekbones, fairly dark complexion, and dark brown eyes made up the profile. Adela was somewhat infamous in Erathia for her past record as a battle cleric who contributed her skills only prior to a battle, preferring to conduct diplomacy instead. With the start of the war to liberate Erathia and establish its borders though, every potential commander was needed, and shed been placed in command of the Whitestone garrison for some time before being sent to help establish the border against aggressive neighbors.
Taryn, as a mercenary captain, had even been on the opposite side a number of times but the one side shed never been on was the side of the Deyjan necromancers. Leo and Co.s ill-fated venture with Deyja was a warning to all mercenaries. Necromancers gained troops by raising the dead; if you were the sole living company amongst that ilk well, Leo had never been known for his intelligence.
You are paid for this, Adela pointed out. Unlike
Us heroes. A sneer was palpable in the voice. The Eminent and Most Noble, Most Stalwart, and Most Loyal Lord Haart, lately nicknamed Lord Bastard in Taryns thoughts, thrust his horse between the two riders with Sir Christian at his heels. Lord Haart had wavy red-brown hair cascading around his face to his shoulders. His face, the object of girls sighs all over Erathia and more recently, a lovelorn poets verse, was patrician and his eyebrows loomed over his black eyes. A silver circlet and a large topaz adorned his brow.
Likewise, Sir Christian also wore a circle, although of bronze, with a diamond-shaped area to mark the middle of his brow. His overall appearance, though, was rugged with shaggy red hair, a thin mustache, and a beard, reminiscent of the time he spent as a frontiersman. Sir Christian was actually the better general, his battlefield tactics being feared throughout the world, but Lord Haart was nobility, a distant relative to Queen Catherine, and his service to the crown of Erathia, despite recent rumors of ties to a necromantic cult, has been exemplary. To not put Lord Haart in command would have been an insult not only to Lord Haart but potentially to Her Majesty, Queen Catherine.
Farking politics.
We do this for the glory of Erathia and her majesty, Queen Catherine. A mercenary scum like you has no sense of tactics or strategy, much less any concept of honor or loyalty.
Taryn stiffened but made no comment.
Lord Haart. Sir Christian. Adela bowed slightly in her saddle. An awkward silence followed. When it was clear that Taryn refused to greet him, Lord Haarts eyes narrowed.
His voice cold, he said, Im surprised your company has survived with your lack of manners, Captain. I suggest you brush up on them if you wish your hiring opportunities to continue in Erathia. The words hung in the air. After a moment, Lord Haart nodded curtly and continued forward to the head of the column with Sir Christian.
Adela let loose a sigh and eyed Taryn.
Ill be more polite tonight.
The march continued.
***

Tomorrow, the Deyjan necromancers will fall before the might of our army.
Taryn looked unimpressed and stifled a groan. The army had set up camp at the edge of a field about a half days march out from the Deyjan forces while the four commanders conferred. Or, more accurately, listened to Lord Haarts inspired and in Taryns opinion, obviously delusional analysis. Taryns grasp of strategy was nowhere near the level displayed by her hero, Tyris, a famed commander in the Erathian Cavalry with an uncanny and often brilliant sense for cavalry tactics and strategy, but one could not become a captain of a company without some sense for it.
We are invincible. The Erathian armies with Queen Catherines blessing will triumph
Tkeshins left toe, you flaming fool! Its four to one odds. Queen Catherine has nothing to do with this. Adela frowned at her.
Milord, Taryn amended.
We will charge them," Lord Haart continued, "And the necromancers will flee like the dogs they have proven to be once they see they cannot hope to overwhelm us."
Taryn frowned. Lord Haart was right in the sense that the necromancers had been only raiding border towns and increasing their army by raising the corpses. Until recently, most of Deyjas commanders had opted to cede the field and retreat back across the border once confronted by Erathian commanders. However, over the past few months, reports had come in from all over the border of garrisons being probed. It was rumored that in one of the instances, the garrison had been overwhelmed and massacred, its soldiers converted to skeletons and its commander raised as a liche commander for Deyja. Still, that meant that there would be a battle fought, contrary to Lord Haarts expectations.
Lord Haart, interrupted Sir Christian. May I suggest we consider alternatives to the charge? Perhaps we should
Because, Taryn added under her breath, well fall off our horses coughing and retching when we run into the liches death clouds.
Lord Haart raised a hand to halt Sir Christian. And what, he said contemptuously, would you suggest, Captain?
Lure them out or feint a charge while another force attacks from behind.
Laughing incredulously, Lord Haart choked out, I should have known.
Adela shifted her weight to the other foot and cut in, My lord, if we may discuss the spells I
Lord Haart stopped laughing abruptly. Your backstabbing, dishonorable ways may be accepted in that stink hole you crawled out from but not by real commanders. Well charge at noon tomorrow. Dismissed.
***
The forces were arrayed opposite each other in neat lines. Pendants hung limply and listlessly. Ironically, it was a beautiful day.
On the Deyjan side, there were rows of skeletons and walking dead. On the flanks, there were several columns of wraiths and black knights. Almost hidden behind the mob of skeletons and walking dead were the liches.
On the Erathian side, there was a mixed company of pike men and swordsmen, flanked by a company of griffins. Behind them, several ballistas were being hauled into position under Sir Christians direction and the archers were taking up positions beside the artillery. And then there were her ragtag units, a mismatched collection of outcasts and misfits, right in the middle and forefront of the group.
An all mounted company, the group also fielded lance cavalry, some ranged units, several scouts, specialists, and a mixed group that used whatever they came into the company with. Taryn cursed silently as she scanned the field. The cavalry would be bogged down in the mass of infantry, leaving the liches free to launch death clouds at their leisure, assuming the riders dont get hauled off their horses first. Without the cavalry to breach the ranks, the slower infantry behind them would be virtually useless and overwhelmed by superior numbers or held in place long enough for the wraiths and liches to wreak havoc. For that matter, without the cavalry to provide a credible distraction, the liches would be free to take out the incoming griffons.
It was going to be a massacre.
Goin ta be a doozy, eh, Lt. Kristov predicted glumly. These Erathians, eh, they wouldna hold a spit to the Eastern demons, eh. Lt. Kristov hailed from the barbarian nation of Krewlod. He was a veteran of many campaigns much more than Taryn had participated in actually and had fought Erathias military as a minor commander on the eastern border throughout his youth in the time of Queen Catherines father, King Gryphonheart, before striking out on his own. By all rights, he should have been the new company commander after the previous one died on the last campaign, but a self-confessed gray and grumpy old man, he had refused to take the position. Since the other two were recently promoted, the task had fallen to Taryn.
Be paid in Erathian coin, eh. Taryn grunted in acknowledgement.
Coinage was always good in the countrys own borders, of course, but the chances of a countrys coinage being accepted elsewhere were iffy and usually dependent on relations between the two. Given that Erathia was basically at war with everyone except perhaps AvLee and even then, only some of the time, that meant a mercenary company was forced to take on a job in Erathia to get some accepted coinage. Otherwise, the company had to pay an arm and a leg to contact the thieves guild and have the currency fenced and converted.
Least it wont be Deyjan coin again.
Eh, dont speak of ill things. Lt. Kristov shivered.
Deyjan coin was the absolute worst to use although luckily, it wasnt often found outside of Deyja itself and mainly in the hands of necromantic cult fanatics. Deyjan coin was made of a specially treated bone and thus couldnt be melted down like normal gold coins and its reputation as being cursed meant most of even the thieves guild would refuse to take it. The late Captain Gareth had found that out the hard way.
Tkeshins arse. Well be here all afternoon at this rate. If Lord Haart would hurry his lily-white arse up, we can get this over with and head to AvLee.
The faster she saw the last of Lord Haart, the better. Her skin crawled and she couldnt seem to control her mouth while she was near him. Erathia, despite its problems, was still one of the best places both to hire and to get jobs, which made Lord Haarts threat so effective. Breach of contract was a surefire way to be blacklisted by all employers, which is why they were still here in this farce of a battle, but a bad word from one of the realms prominent commanders would be almost as disastrous, no matter her personal opinion of the man.
Hush, lass. About ta start, eh.
Indeed, a scout was riding up to her now from the back. Saluting, the scout reported, The archers are in position, sir.
Taryn nodded, slamming her visor down as horn calls rang out and the unfamiliar feel of a clerics Adelas Bless settled around her, fatigue vanishing, leaving energy and adrenaline in its wake. Settling her lance, she held her hand up. All around her, there was the sound of metal clanking and saddles creaking. For a moment, nature held her breath, and then thunder rumbled as a wave of horses pounded toward the skeletons. Griffins accompanied the cavaliers in the air while the pike men and swordsmen struggled behind.
Green noxious fumes from the liches staffs arched toward the griffins. Griffins swerved and crashed into one another, plummeting toward the ground. Mounts tripped over griffin corpses, some breaking their legs with a crisp snap and scream of pain. The following cavaliers could not stop in time. Meanwhile, the throng of skeletons and walking dead lumbered forward, unstoppable, and engaged the downed riders.
Suddenly, a group split off from the main host and hurtled past the skeletons and the walking dead, taking advantage of the space on the flanks. Coalescing into an arrowhead formation, they lowered their lances and charged toward the liches accompanied by twangs as arrows shot into the sky.
Thirty yards. Taryn sighted along her lance and aimed at a liches head.
Fifteen. The liches had recovered from their surprise and flung death clouds at her cavalcade. Holding her breath, she willed herself to ignore the stinging in her eyes and urged her horse to go faster after he stumbled. Behind her, she heard coughing, clashes, and the heavy thumps as her people fell.
Ten. She couldnt look around and see how many had fallen. She could only feel less pressure; Lt. Kristov on her right was gone.
Five. The liches were readying a second batch of death clouds. The gems on their scepters were growing steadily brighter. The arrows plunged to earth in the breasts of black knights and wraiths.
Taryn threw her weight behind her lance as she reached the forefront of the liches. The tip of her lance drilled through the eyehole of the liche and through the back. She kept her arm steady while the momentum of her horse carried her over the front row.
All around her, she could hear the crunching of skulls. Her horse was slowing down as he struggled to get through the liches packed side by side. Taryns lance tip dipped. Noticing the liche hanging onto it, she viciously kicked out with her foot. The downward drag disappeared. Horn calls rang out, and as one, all the horses reared, flailing out with hooves, and wheeled. The group raced out of the liches reach.
Captain! As Taryn half turned in her saddle, she saw one of her people, a boy of about seventeen years, pulled off his horse by the liches and hit with scepters. His helm had been wrestled off, and bruises spread across his face. She also saw the companies of black knights and wraiths beginning to pick up the chase, some heading toward her archers.
Captain! Panic was in his voice now. Taryn swallowed, then turned around, and forced her horse to go faster. Among her one lone platoon, there was silence.
Captain? Cap The voice ended in a strangled scream.
As her horse galloped toward the skeletons, she blinked away the sweat that had gotten into her eyes. There were holes in the skeleton and walking dead ranks where griffins and horses had fallen. Near the end of the horde of skeletons, she saw the small pockets of pike men and swordsmen waver, then crumble. A few broke free. Most didnt.
***
Notes:
1) I wanted to show that L.H., for whatever reason, believes or talks very strongly about his belief in the supremacy of the Erathian military and his personal view of what a knight ought to be. His vision of a knight would not include any "dishonorable" tactics. Is this coming across?
2) I think this got lost by the wayside, but I have no idea how to put it in. Adela, as someone who believes for the most part in diplomacy - although not with Deyjan necromancers because they don't negotiate - and thus, is +very+ uncomfortable talking about battle spells, is making an effort on Taryn's behalf by offering to discuss the spells she'll be casting during the battle. This background was touched upon in the first scene but I'm unsure how to make this more clear. This friendship the two have developed becomes fairly important in the last section.
3) There is -a lot- of explication in the beginning of the third scene. I've tried to touch on them and not just blab on and on, but in your opinion, is it too long? Do your eyes start crossing? The problem is my original section (without any of that explication) was too subtle and depended on people having a passing familiarity with the game. The Deyjan coin explication is thus fairly important. I'm unsure if the explanation of the importance of LH's threat is necessary though. Kristov's background isn't so much important as the point that Taryn is a fairly new - and brash - Captain (which, along with her natural pride, hopefully explains why she's not very tactful). Do you buy that explanation? Also, I have no idea what sort of dialect I'm giving Kristov; it seems like a mix of a Scottish accent and the Canadian eh. If you have any suggestions of how to portray the speech of a desert barbarian, I will proclaim your virtues to the heaven. =x
4) Lastly, battle scene. Working for you? Not? Need more description? Need less? Tactics make sense?

two things...
- first, with rumored ties to a necromantic cult, an unwillingness to accept that the enemy might be a threat, and deliberately ignoring potentially useful tactics, I honestly thought that Lord Haart might be getting ready to betray them all.
- second, it's well enough written, but I would suggest maybe not worrying so much about explicitly dragging out bits of characterization. Just know what the charcterization is, and let it come out naturally.

One:
*grin*
Two:
Okay, I'll try not to worry so much about it. ^_^
Thanks for the comments.

Sitting at his table, Lord Haart looked as fresh as he did at the conference last night. Hair and uniform immaculate, he toyed with an amulet. Taryn kept seeing flashes of white as his fingers restlessly roamed over it.
You agreed to stay for the whole campaign. I need you and your company to stay especially with the unfortunate death of Sir Christian. His voice was deceptively mild, but his hand clenched on the amulet before relaxing and resuming to toy with it.
What campaign? We agreed to supplement your forces for a single battle, not a massacre
Its been very useful. We have tested the mettle of the enemy, and it is weak, Lord Haart interrupted.
My Company is the weakest it has been in all of its existence, even worse than our last campaign. Im being forced to promote soldiers wet behind the ears and far too young into my command structure. Were not sticking around to get slaughtered by the Deyjans. We want out payment.
Ill double the payment if you stay for another day. Protecting the wounded and attending the burial is the most youll do. Surely, youll need time to care for your own wounded.
Moneys no use to the dead.
You show your true colors. His voice dripped venom. You call yourself a Captain? Youre despicable. Youd leave our wounded and dead just because youre scared. Youre not a Captain. Youre a coward.
Taryn said evenly, I never claimed to be anything but a mercenary. The money.
Sinking back into his chair, he released his death grip on the amulet and called out, Sandro, the captain wants her money.
Stiffening, Taryn watched warily as a figure wearing a dark blue cowl stepped through the curtain from an inner part of the tent, holding a purse with a pale, bony hand. Handing it to Taryn, Sandro silently glided back into the darkness beyond the curtain.
Taryn weighed the purse in one hand and loosened the drawstrings.
Per usual, an almost remarkable lack of manners. Dont worry. I have not cheated you. In fact, he smiled coldly, I have personally checked it.
Taryn gave him a long look then pulled the drawstrings tight and turned around. At the tent flaps, she paused and turned slightly when Lord Haart spoke, his voice silky with menace.
Dont go blabbing to the soldiers now. After all, I wouldnt want them to be contaminated by your superstitious nonsense. Ive been very lenient, but in this case, if you do, I might have to tell my Queen about your insubordination and incompetence. I wouldnt want a misunderstanding to make your Company disappear.
Taryn walked out.
***
After instructing her remaining lieutenant to get everyone ready to march, she went to find Adela. She found her inside the first aid tent, directing other medics and bonesetters.
Adela, I need to speak to you. Its important. Taryn kept her voice soft but pitched to carry over the noise.
For once, Adelas hood had fallen back and as she hurriedly ran her hands through her hair, she said in a distracted tone, Not right now YOU! She pointed imperiously at an apprentice healer.
Get me more bandages! While the apprentice scrambled to do her bidding, Adela turned to Taryn and raised an eyebrow.
You should leave.
I cant.
Why not?
Because I, unlike you, have duties! Taryn flinched, and the hubbub in the tent quieted.
Bring them along too, Taryn insisted.
First, we cant; there are several that cant be moved without gravely injuring them. Second, whos going to protect us?
We will. Were stopping by Fair Feather first to pick up supplies and talk with the Mercenary Guild representatives. Leave those who cant be moved behind and save as many as you can.
Adelas eyes flashed and the air around them became chill. I really thought better of you. But youre just as cold-hearted as the rest. I cannot leave wounded behind when I can help them; its a direct violation of my oath as a cleric. Its my job to help them, and I will do it. If youre not helping, youre in the way. Get out.
Adela, Lord Ha
Magic rang and Taryn found herself pushed out of the tent by a ring of frost, tent flaps frozen shut.
Get out!
***
Early next morn, the distinctive clang of swords and screams disturbed the silence. Taryn rode without expression as she led her decimated company on their forced march toward Fair Feather and from there, to AvLee. Behind them, in the distance, fire clawed hungrily at the sky as the sun hid behind the smoke.
She loosened the drawstrings of the purse and took out a coin.
It was Deyjan.
---
I relied a lot on the info on this HoMM3 website.
Game spoilers below in white:
This is set sometime after the rescue of Fair Feather but before the liberation of Steadwick. Later, the necromancers would seek to find a commander as tactically good as Queen Catherine and end up resurrecting King Gryphonheart of Erathia to be their new general. Unfortunately, they lose control of him and Gryphonheart kills King Vilmar, the leader of the necromancers, and takes control of the army. In the "Song for the Father" campaign, Sandro is the necromancer hero who is sent by the necromancers as a gesture of good faith to reveal who the traitor is, that is the person who killed King Gryphonheart originally. Lord Haart is revealed to be the traitor and he apparently killed King Gryphonheart, acting on orders from King Vilmar, in revenge for the expulsion of necromancers from Erathia. At this point in time though, Gryphonheart has not yet been resurrected and both Sandro and Lord Haart are working under the direction of King Vilmar.