The Fall of the North Planning/Discussion Thread

[Arry]

Here are my characters - Gaeredhel and Rôsgollo - Elven guards from Lindon

BIOS POSTED TO PROPOSAL ~*~ Pio

1.) Name: Gaeredhel

Age: 675 years

Race: Elven – Sindar from Lindon

Gender: Male

Weapons: Yew long bow; plain, double edged long sword in a wooden scabbard plainly bound with leather stripping; large, all purpose, double edged knife in a leather holder at his belt; plain iron helmet; short chain mail shirt worn over a thick fleece shirt; a boiled leather vest embossed with a cresting wave worn over the chainmail.

Appearance: 6 ft 3 in (1.9 meters); 180 lbs (82 kilos); wiry build; long dark hair, worn in a single braid down his back; grey eyes; Clothes: dark blue wool cloak; dark cloth breeches; grey long sleeved tunic; Knee high, black leather boots, well worn

Personality/Strengths/Weaknesses: A gregarious fellow, rather garrulous. Enjoys being in on the latest gossip; able warrior; follows orders well; can be an independent thinker should the need arise; is fond of the brews of different areas and races.

History: Born in Harlindon, near the port of Harlond in 1299 T.A. His father, now gone to the West along with his wife, was in the service of Lord Círdan. At present he and his older brother, Rôsgollo, both serve their Lord as warriors, and of late, as guards to one of the emissaries from Lord Círdan to the struggling remains of the Northern Kingdom at Fornost. He is not unfamiliar with the region of Arnor and especially the realm of Arthedain in which Fornost lies. In 1409 T.A. he, his brother, and their father fought alongside the troops led by King Arveleg I when the Witch-king breached the region’s defenses and assaulted the tower at Amon Sûl. At that time, Arveleg was killed; the troops retreated to Fornost and successfully defended the city.

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2.) Name: Rôsgollo

Age: 685 years

Race: Elven – Sindar

Gender: Male

Weapons: Yew long bow; plain, double edged long sword in a wooden scabbard covered with lynx fur and bound in a criss-crossed pattern with leather stripping; large, all purpose, double edged knife in a leather holder at his belt; plain iron helmet; short chain mail shirt worn over a thick fleece shirt; a boiled leather vest embossed with a cresting wave worn over the chainmail.

Appearance: 6 ft (1.8 meters); 195 lbs (88 kilos); solid, compact, muscled build; shoulder length dark hair, parted in the middle and ineffectively tucked behind his ears; grey eyes; Clothes: dark blue wool cloak; dark cloth breeches; grey long sleeved tunic; knee high, black leather boots, well worn; wears his father’s plain silver band ring set inlaid with mother-of-pearl on his left index finger.

Personality/Strengths/Weaknesses: A laconic man, candid in his opinions with a tendency toward curtness. Uses his brother’s ability to gather information and gossip as a tool for planning strategy; able warrior; follows orders well – but will revise them based on his own assessment of a situation’s needs; tends to be very protective of his brother, Gaeredhel – they are the last of their family. Rôsgollo is the one who offered both their services as guards on this expedition.

History: Born in Harlindon, near the port of Harlond in 1289 T.A. His history is much like his brother’s; save for the fact that he was at one time wedded. His wife and infant son were killed when the Witch-king’s troops swept over the area around Amon Sûl in 1409. Rôsgollo along with a number of other Elven troops had been part of a small Elven garrison established in the Weather Hills. They were there to bring quick aid to the King, should need arise. A number of the Elves had brought their families, since this was to be a protracted stay. Rôsgollo had first insisted that his new wife should remain safe in Harlindon near her family; but, she made plain her own argument that it would not be so and joined him at the Weather Hill’s fastness.

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First Post - IN PROGRESS



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alaklondewen

Looking forward to seeing what your Elven emissary is like.

-- Arry

[CaptainofDespair]

POSTED TO THE PROPOSAL ~*~ Pio

Name: Mitharan

Age: 67

Race: Dunedain

Gender: Male

Weapons: As a Dunedain Lord, Mitharan is entitled to both the finest of steels, and the heirlooms of his house. The greatest of these relics, in the blade Arancir, the Noble Cleaver. Besides his aged blade, he wields a small dagger, which he uses both to parry, and to deliver the final blow to the orcs who oppose him.

Appearance: Clad in earth tone clothing and cloaks, the Dunedain Lord looks as if he had just crawled forth from ages of wandering in the forests of the North. Beneath these often tattered raiments, is a glittering chainmail hauberk. His hair is dark, almost black, and his eyes match it with the deep darkness that pools in them. His face is weather beaten, and marked with high cheek bones, giving him an aged, lordly look. Only his hands show the signs of someone still youthful. The rest of him looks aged beyond his years, as he has seen many horrors, of which will never escape his mind.

Personality/Strengths/Weaknesses: Like most Lords, he is proud, almost too proud. More often than not, he can be seen striding to meet a danger he is ill-equipped to handle. Yet, with his trademark tenacity, he manages to pull through in the end, and achieve his goal. His pride drove him to near death, as he fought in almost complete solitude, hopelessly trying to drive back the hordes of orcs as they rampaged on the outer battlements of Fornost, the greatest stronghold of Arthedain.

Yet, his pride, although remaining as his most glaring of weaknesses, is also his greatest strength. Throughout his life, he has been engaged in various conflicts. And though most would have been successful, without his pride, it is the driving force behind his personality. Without it, he may very well be just another Dunedain. But with it, he is totally unique from all those who surround him. From his pride, he derives his tenacity in battle, and life. He is not one to give up, or diminish, just because a few deciding battles have been lost.

History: Mitharan was born in 1907 of the Third Age. From birth, he was given almost immediate training in the ways of war, and of the lordship he would inherit. His early childhood was one marked by happiness, as peace was still lurking in the air. He grew up quickly, in mind, faster than most children. He was always considered a firebrand, and quite haughty for one so small. For some time, his life was easy, and he continued to be a carefree youth, often wandering for endless hours in the woods, marveling at the beasts.

This pattern continued with him, as he came of age. But, with age, comes wisdom, and he slowly fell into the Lordly ways of his father, Arátohîr. He began studying the world through scrolls and tomes, as well as continuing his ways of wandering, though to a lesser degree. His father often scolded him for following the ‘ranger’ ways of wilderness treks, for he himself was more inclined to follow the path the Gondorian nobles were carving. Eventually, his wandering ceased.
Many more years passed, and Mitharan was now well on his way to becoming the wise, aged Lord his father wanted. But, this would be disrupted, for civil war was breaking out, and Cardolan and Rhudaur were in upheaval. Though, even with these two factions of the former kingdom of Arnor bickering over the palantir of Amon Sul, a greater enemy lurked on the horizon. The Witch-King of Angmar had begun his attacks, though small they were at first. Within some years, both Cardolan and Rhudaur were beaten, and Angmar was becoming the true power of the North.

Within a few more years, Angmar was encroaching upon Arthedain, and was preparing to destroy its only remaining rival in the region. At this time, the Dunedain remnants mobilized, and prepared to march against the Angmarim power. But, it was in vain. The Witch-King’s forces were too numerous, and eventually, they made their way to Fornost, and laid siege to it....


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First Post -

Standing on the last remaining battlements of the city, was the Lord Mitharan. Alone he was, save for his bodyguard who stood at a distance. He slowly surveyed the carnage of his once mighty home of Fornost. Below, the bodies of the dead Dunedain soldiers and civilians were strewn amongst the carcasses of the orcs. Black blood mixed with the red-stained innards of the slain people of Fornost. The stench that arose from the streets and alleys was horrendous, and few could withstand the reek for more then a few moments. But the orcs, the orcs relished the smell, and it gave them new life. They only lived for the destruction of men and elves, and it was their greatest love to see the bodies of these hated enemies being ripped apart and eaten, some of them still alive. This sight disgusted the Dunedain Lord, and he turned from the death and destruction, and strode off the battlements, towards the last of the Great Halls, to hold a council with his remaining lords.

The streets were eerily quiet, as he walked the lonely path to the Hall. His mind drowned out the horrific sounds of the screaming, and torturous deaths of the civilian populace, as the Orcs ran rampant through the broken streets, killing and plundering as they went. Rather, he focused on his task at hand. He was forced to take a few back alleys at one point, as the barricades that had been laid up, were still in position, ready to be defended to the last. He was careful to avoid these checkpoints, for they only slowed him down, and he was hurriedly moving about. Yet at last, with a bit of effort, he found himself upon the steps of the Great Hall. Pushing aside the great wooden doors, he entered the slightly damaged building, which had been hit with siege projectiles in the latter parts of the Witch-King’s siege. One section of the wall was even being supported by the wooden struts of nearby houses, which had been destroyed or severely damaged by those same projectiles.

Upon entering, he stopped in mid-stride, and gazed at the lords who were now arrayed in the hall, and we already discussing what would be done. The King though, was absent, apparently handling other, more important business, with his chief counselors. Quietly, Mitharan slid himself into a chair, to listen to the rest of the debate. For a few moments, all was silent, as the speaker, having been interrupted, attempted to regain his thoughts. But at last, he composed himself, and began to speak.

“We are now at a crossroads. We have only two remaining options. Surrender has been ruled out, as neither side would accept it, and it would only be disastrous for our people. Thus, we must either fight to the death, or flee into the wilds, and hope to evade this enemy for as long as we must.” The Counselor paused, and scanned the faces of those surrounding the great, round table they were situated around. “Now, we must make a decision that will affect us for generations to come, or will end our people. But final word will come from the King, to where we flee, or where we die.”

Many of the other lords sat still, almost like they were frozen. Not a single one of them rose to answer the call of the speaker. Instead, they sat, and pondered their fate, and the fate of the Dunedain. But, Mitharan, in his unconventional ways, rose at long last, and addressed his peers.

“Our doom is inescapable! We are a dwindling people, losing number every day. We will not, nor can we, recover from what has occurred. If we flee, we will only be hunted, like rabbits fleeing the dog. The Witch-King will not stop until we are all dead. Our families, our people, will live in fear daily. Why not end that, and put up one last, glorious defense. One worthy of the name Dunedain!” He paused, and as if to ensure his meaning got across to the elder lords of this Council, he spoke again. "We must fight to the death!"

Murmurs could now be heard amongst the wizened men. Mitharan still stood, as though he was ready to march out, and confront the Witch-King himself. Finally, at the behest of another, he sat, and awaited the replies. But only dissension could be heard rising up. Some agreed with the young lord, and wanted to face the enemy head on, but the eldest of them, wanted to hide in the wilds, and hope to find a safe haven. Eventually, most agreed with this idea, and the Council began discussing what option they had, should they manage to escape the ruin of Fornost. Some suggest Imladris, others, Ered Luin, and a few suggested Lindon, where Cirdan dwelt. But a final agreement could not be made, other than that those who could flee, should go where they are able.

Mitharan stood from the table, upon the conclusion of the debate, and fled the confines of the hall, for the rancid smell of the dying city. Walking out, he heard the sounds of the dying rising up over the last section of defendable walls, and ran towards it. His only thought was to die protecting those who needed him, the civilians. Quickly he went, until at last he can to the final barricade before one who enter the overrun sections of the city. With his bodyguard in tow, he entered. His first sight, was that of some hapless civilian who had been caught in the fighting. Her eyes stared up at him, unblinking. His heart sank, and put his fingers over her eyes, and pulled the lids such, to give peace to the soul. Wandering a bit further into the city, he found more of the same, only in droves they had died, cut down before their time, by a merciless enemy. His bodyguard meanwhile, was becoming all the more worried. They feared the orc numbers, and knew if they were sighted, only the good graces of the Valar would be able to save them. But they didn’t express this fear openly, but Mitharan saw it in their eyes, and he wept to himself, for what had happened.

With the gates breached, nothing would stop the hordes from coming. Eventually, the inner defenses would fall, and Fornost would be made into a haven of vile creatures and great evil. The guards at the gate had fallen quickly, and only a swift counter-attack by the remnants of the outer defenses, saved the city from falling in one fell swoop. But those men gave their lives, willingly. But at long last, Mitharan could stand the smell of the Angmarim-guided death, and fled back to the inner sanctum of the city. As he crossed the final barriers, in silence, he caught sight of the Captain, Hírvegil. He seemed rather grim, more so than most men in his situation. But the Lord heeded him not, for now at least, and fled up the final stair cases into the inner sanctum of the city, to await what the final order would be from the King.

[Saurreg]

Kransha

I need the following confirmations and answers for my first post:

1) How many exits are there from the secondary battlements into the first sector of the city taken by the enemy? I know only of the main gate that is currently held by another elite regiment of the king.

2) Are the main forces of the besiegers concentrated at this main gate to the secondary walls?

3) What is the strength of the rearguard?

[alaklondewen]

Kransha, will anyone be carrying Arvedui? I'm sure the Emissary will have taken council with him? Also, how long have the Lindon elves been at Fornost? Do you have specific details here in mind, or may we have a bit of freedom with them (to a small extent)?

Okay, so this wasn't one inquiry, but several. Thanks in advance for you reply.

~Alak

[Kransha]

Hello all, and welcome to this new game. After a long while, I finally concocted it, by it is by no means mine. I enlisted the aid of as many of the Downs' finest writers that I could in a limited amount of time, and I consider this our game. I am merely a founder (concurrent with Bethberry's opinion of a proper title for Game Founders). Welcome all. I am happy to see that good things are already happening.

CaptainofDespair: Fantastic bio and post, really, and with so little to work from. Same to you, Arry, magnificent bio for the two Elves. I do not doubt that your post will be great as well. I will speak more of these at a later date. Gaeredhel, Rôsgollo, and Mitharan are all sure to be great contributions to this game, and I cannot wait to see them developed by such apt owners.

alak, Saurreg, I will feel your questions here, on the PT, considering that the answers might, and probably will benefit from them.

How many exits are there from the secondary battlements into the first sector of the city taken by the enemy? I know only of the main gate that is currently held by another elite regiment of the king.
Three, from the innermost sanctum. The main gate is the one most used, but there are two that are directed towards the east and west. The main gate faces south, towards the main entrance to the city, and there is a smaller entrance, accessed via passageway, that leads north, an escape route to the strongholds of the North Downs in the event of required evacuation. See my ~Note~ below for further information on this.

Are the main forces of the besiegers concentrated at this main gate to the secondary walls?
Yes, in short. The orcs of Angmar have just crowded into the second level of Fornost at the time of first posts, and are surging towards thr main gate to the inner sanctum, hindered by barricades and makeshift fences built in their way throughout the city by the fleeing defenders.

What is the strength of the rearguard?
If by strength you mean 'strength' in the military sense, then the rearguard is anywhere from 300-800 Dúnedain strong. It is less populated than a conventional unit because it is composed of more talented individuals, who are responsible for acting as the final defense of the city, covering retreats, and protecting the King himself. The Dúnedain in the rearguard are multi-skilled, some bowmen, swordsmen, spearmen, all expert riders, the elite of Fornost and of Arthedain.

Will anyone be carrying Arvedui? I'm sure the Emissary will have taken council with him?
Well, I'll be 'using' him, when appropriate, but he is a carry-along, really. He will not be present during much of the game, in the sense that he will not be involved with the cast of characters in it directly. He may be addressed at certain times. If you are referring to first posts, it would be more appropriate for your Elven Emissary not to be with the king. As addressed in my post, all the Elves are on the second level of Fornost, which has been breached. That is why the Dúnedain rearguard was dispatched into the city, to find them and keep them safe (bit of a slip-up on the part of Arvedui, not having the Elves take up residence in his court).

Also, how long have the Lindon elves been at Fornost? Do you have specific details here in mind, or may we have a bit of freedom with them (to a small extent)?
You have complete freedom on this. The Elves of Lindon have been conducting talks with Arvedui since his reign began and even before that, with his father Araphant. Your character can have newly come to Fornost, perhaps as a replacement for the last Emissary, or may have been there years, even decades, as an Elven couselor of the Arthedain King. Your choice.

~Note~ Of Fornost:

Fornost is a city highly reminiscent of Minas Tirith in Gondor. It is built on tiers, or levels, but three instead of seven. My post describes the three sanctums of Fornost. Each level is set above the next, the apex and highest point being the three towers of the King that spring from his halls. The key number of Fornost is 3, everything is in 3's: 3 gates to the inner sanctum, 3 walls, 3 towers, 3 tiers, etc. Use that fact to embelish. The city faces south, technically, and, the road leading into is straight, going right through each level as a ramp, unlike the winding road of Minas Tirith.

The architecture is Neo-Númenórean, built in the style of old Númenór, like the former capital of Arnor, Annúminas. It has been greatly damaged and parts of the city are derilict after battles and neglect, because of the War with Angmar. I want to leave as much as I can about Fornost up to you folks, though. Whatever area you're in, feel free to describe in detail. I don't want to seem stifling.

[Saurreg]

PLACEd ON PROPOSAL ~*~ PIO

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Here is my character post. Do tell me if any changes are needed. Cheers.

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Character Description Form:

1.) Have you ever played in an RPG at the Barrow Downs? – YES/NO - Which one?

Roll Out the Barrows, Wilderness Weathertop & Wild Things

2.) How many RPG’s on the Barrow Downs are you currently involved in?

None

3.) Have you posted in The Green Dragon Inn – YES/NO
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For your character please include:

NAME: Belegorn

AGE: 54

RACE: Dúnedain

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS (No magical, super-hero, mithril weapons. Just good solid Middle-earth weapons and armor only that is appropriate to the race of the character and the time period.):

A 48in long sword, standard issue of the elite rearguard of fornost. The bright shiny steel blade measures 38in long and tapers narrowly towards the end. Blade is made of high quality tempered steel and is well polished and sharpened. Essentially a cut and thrust weapon. Intricate curvings can be found on the ricasso and along the length of the ridge, and the silver quillons of the crossguard are shaped like the outstretched wings of an eagle – the symbolic animal of the regiment. The brass pommel of the sword is curved in the shape of a jewel – the Elessar. The cast iron grip is well banded with black leather strips. Black leather scabbard with a polished steel collar, brass buckles and fittings.

A 17in dagger, also of standard military issue. Steel blade measures 11in long with a crossguard with hooked quillons. Wire wrapped grip and an acorn pommel. Sheath for dagger resembles a miniature version of the guard sword scabbard.

APPEARANCE:

6’2” tall. Broad shouldered with the built, strength and stamina of middle-aged Dúnedain who engages in frequent exercises. Shoulder length black hair with white tuffs showing at the sideburns. No facial hair except for black and grey stubble around the mouth and all the way to the neck. Grey sharp eyes, bushy black eyebrows and a thin tapering jawline that gives him the appearance of a raptor. Thin lips and a mouth not used to smiling (nature scowl).

ATTIRE:

Wears a linen shirt under a green quilted doublet, chain hauberk that extends to half the length of the tights, green woolen trews, and chainmail trousers (don’t laugh).

ACCESSORIES:

Chainmail coif, steel bascinet with a red plume, mail gauntlets with steel vambraces. A forest green surcoat depicting the heraldry of the regiment. Steel greaves and knee-high leather boots with metal soles and toes.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: (No half-Elven characters. No mixed-type characters. No super-heroes. No assassins. No one all powerful, martial arts proficient, or having any magical traits. Just regular characters with normal abilities for their races only):

Beregorn is courageous and devoted to duty and the law. He is extremely proud of his profession and tries his best to be well-mannered and carry himself in a dignified bearing befitting of his military station. He is a strict disciplinarian who has hung many a wrong-doers in his previous units for all sorts of offenses. While those that served under him can attest to his ability to command and grudgingly respect him, they can never love him because of his harshness. Belegorn devotes his entire life to soldiering and thus can be perceived as being aloof and unapproachable socially. His only weakness other than his rigidity is that he feels insecure and irritated in the company of those whom he perceive as being arrogant and haughty due to their higher social status and better education.

Inwardly, Belegorn is worried about the state of the remnants of the Royal Arthedain Army. Although proud to be a commissioned officer in one of the king’s own household regiments, he knows truthfully that whatever potency the army had had vanished and all the regiments with proud histories and traditions are but a shell of their former selves. Nevertheless he continues to serve to the best of his ability and hopes that he can only live up to the illustrious accomplishments and deeds of his predecessors.

Belegorn cares not who the King of Gondor is. He is a professional soldier of Arthedain and will not question orders from superiors.

HISTORY:

The youngest son of an improvished tanner, Belegorn was a product from the dredges of Dúnedain society where class and status dictated the fate of one’s life. Proverty and pressing events denied him the opportunity of a formal education and thus what Belegorn learned in his limited ability to read and write, he learned from a kindly old cleric who also dwelled in the lower part of Fornost. Belegorn is ashamed of this handicap of his and thus becomes insecure and uneasy around other much younger commissioned officers of the same rank who are better educated and of higher social status than him. It is a feeling of inferiority and regret that will never be cast aside easily.

In the year 1938 TA Belegorn joined one of the many yeoman militia regiments as a skirmisher. His courage and skill was soon noticed by his superiors and the teenager was drafted to one of the regular line regiments of the army as a man-at-arms as the war continued and manpower became scarce. For the next four decades Belegorn continued to hone his skills in feats of arms as well as in administration and battle tactics. He acquired a reputation for himself within the regiments which he was shuffled to and fro and his deeds were also noted by superior headquarters. But in the face of Arthedain meritocracy, his lowly background and lack of education denied him due recognition and above all a promotion through the ranks. Belegorn took all in stride however, and continued to serve. It was the state before one’s self.

In the year 1970 TA, Belegron participated in one of the many vain attempts by the Arthedain Army to turn the tide against Angmar by mounting her own offense campaign. The campaign was a disaster but for Belegorn, it was a bittersweet blessing in disguise. King Arvedui was there in person on the battlefield and chanced upon the veteran soldier. Highly impressed by the exploits of Belegorn, the King remarked aloud nonchalantly that Belegorn was the type of man Arthedain needed in such desperate times. Eager to please the king’s every single whim; his glittering entourage broke into action. Inquiries were made, messengers sent and notes scribbled. Before the King and his staff had even left the battlefield, Belegorn was notified that he was given a field promotion to the rank of first lieutenant and made the deputy commander of a regiment.

The captain of the regiment was killed during the chaotic retreat back to Fornost and Belegorn became the regiment’s acting commander for the rest of the withdrawal to the Arthedain capital. There he put all his years of learning and experiences to good use and conducted his regiment very well. In 1972 TA Captain Hírvegil of the King’s Rearguard heard of the Belegorn’s achievements and when the old soldier’s regiment was disbanded, he was invited to join the ranks of the elite.


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First post:

The hellish tongues of flames licked the smog-filled sky lustily and illuminated the remaining buildings and standing walls of the lower city with an eerie glow. At the base of the south gate, thousands of Arthedain soldiers charged into glorious combat like an unstoppable torrent bursting from a dam. Their shiny helms shone fiery bright with the reflected light from the fires as did their ready weapons. Onwards they charged, and a host of war cries greeted the darkened sky air, joining in the distinct blare of countless brass, the powerful treble of war drums and the earthshaking reverberation of metallic soled feet thundering across the city ground. Arthedain was on the attack again and the Rearguard was leading.

Belegorn let out a roar and lowered his sword onto the head of a hapless orc sprawled at the base of his feet. The sharp blade cleaved through the black iron helm effortlessly and split the vile creature’s head in two. Just as the first lieutenant delivered the coup de grâce to his latest victim, a huge man – an easterling mercenary of Angmar no doubt, charged towards him with both hands grasping a huge bloodstained battleaxe. Bellowing like a feral beast, the fearsome warrior attempted to smite Belegorn with a single blow from his dreadful weapon but the Dúnedain leapt agility aside in the nick of time. The great axe missed and its bit met and penetrated the ground instead, throwing its wielder off balance. Grabbing the greasy locks of his assailant with his powerful left hand, Belegorn yanked forcefully and tilted the man’s head back, exposing his neck. He then pressed the cold blade of his sword on the laryngeal prominence and pulled back swiftly along the blade’s length. A crimson spray emitted almost immediately much to Belegorn’s satisfaction.

All around him other soldiers were also in the midst of mortal combat. Archers delivered their steel tipped arrows in volleys with deadly accuracy while halberdiers and pikemen charged shoulder to shoulder and literally overran anything in their way. Tough man-at-arms of the line and skillful skirmishers finished off any enemy that escaped the said unstoppable human fence, just as what Belegorn was doing. The impetus of the sortie had thrown the enemy off balance and Belegorn was eager to exploit the opening created.

He lifted the horn of a mountain onyx and blew with his might so that all around him could hear,

“ONWARDS CHILDREN! PUSH ON! PUSH ON!”

Belegorn saw his regimental flag bearer huddled to the rear and called to him in his mighty voice,

“TO ME! AVANT BANNER!”

Belegorn and the flag bearer carrying his fluttering green pennon dashed towards the frontlines. Those who saw the advance of the banner let out a cry of triumph and followed suite. The sortie led by the rearguard continued to surge forwards irresistibly overwhelming everything in its path.

[Saurreg]

There is a discontinuality between my post and Kransha's

Mine was written with the following in mind;

“Command the entire rearguard to enter the city by any means they can find,” he said, directing the sentence at Belegorn, “including the main gate. Do not fight the foes in Fornost, if possible, and tell them to search the ruins for survivors. When all have been brought together, we shall rally at the gates. The city is to be evacuated.”

I need to know whether:

a)After Hírvegil gave his instructions to Belegorn, the latter goes on to make the arrangements as ordered and also analyse the situation to give his input. Everybody meets at the gates (west or not) and charges.

or

b)After Hírvegil gave his instructions to Belegorn, everybody immediately heads down to the gate and charges into the foray. Arrangments and no plans seem to be made.

kransha's post does appear to indcate b). If we are going along with B, then I will be making an alternative first post. However there are some issues that needs to be addressed:

1. Did everybody in the regiment hear Hírvegil's loud orders and subsequently joined in the immediate sortie? A line of over 800 men can stretch on for quite a distant.

2. Is every guardsman equiped with their field marching equipment and rations?

3. Does individual company COs and NCOs privy to Hírvegil's plans and understands what needs to be done?

4. What are the exact plans? Whom to be evacuated? How to comb the lower city with the overwhelming enemy presence?

5. How would Gaeredhel, Mitharan and Rôsgollo fit into the sortie if it was directed to the guardsmen around Hírvegil and Belegorn only?

[Kransha[/b] - I am now writing my alternative first post that correlates well with yours. Can you tell me what are my parameters or till which extent will my post cover? Thanks!

I love planning threads. it's good to sort things out before hand, no?