So it turns out I'm not great at turning up for, or following up on, any of the games I committed to in May! Going to do better in June.
That said...
The Battle of Hotblood Heath
The Grue and Ninepenny was supposed to be a remote coaching inn. As Littorio the bard picked his way through the shanty town of tents, marquees and campfires which spilled out of the dry stone boundary wall and covered the surrounding hill, he heard snatches of elvish, cashar, luthanian highland dialect and even the squeaked exchange of two well-groomed rattish staff officers arguing over the wording of their oberver's report.
Littorio elbowed his way through the crowd, past bodies clad in silk and fustian, steel and buff leather, until finally he reached the bar. The day had been damp and humid and Littorio had an overpowering thirst. Even warm Luthany cider would do the job. And a bag of venison scratchings, love. Do you take traveller's cheques? Ta. After the first hogshead had slipped down, he felt the inspiration returning and found himself crammed around a corner table with a grizzled Llanis man-at-arms in full plate armour and a hard-eyed elvish warrior with an axe the size of a man slung over her back. Littorio felt a flicker of uncertainty over the odd pairing but really, who was he to question mismatched drinking companions when the common denominator was this wonderful local brew?
"So lads, I was putting together a ballad for the punters at home and wanted a few details about the recent fracas up on Hotblood Heath. Just what went on up there?"
"Hah!" The elf was first to speak. "Our army siezed the field far earlier than the tardy men of Llanis and made sure we met them where the land was open and clear. All day they had to trudge toward our lines, in the teeth of our volleys and dropping soldiers right and left as they came!"
"That's an interesting version", growled the Llanisman, whose armour - Littorio was pretty sure, anyway, hard to tell by candlelight - was heavily dented and scratched by a number of arrow impacts. "I remember a little exchange on the right flank involving the cavalry first."
"Aye!" said the elf cheerfully. "I recall your horsemen advancing into the teeth of our horse-archers' trap and dropping like flies all the way!"
"Yes" said the Llanisman, taking a deep draught of the Luthany scrumpy. "You felled a great many of those young squires. A lot of good young lads and horses. And then your horsemen got cocky and tried charging our heavy horse."
"...that was also tactical", mumbled the elf.
"Turns out scale mail and a light sword designed for skinning rats aren't the best tools for cracking open the Knights of Llanis!" Boomed the armoured man. "And after we were done knocking over your horsemen, the last man standing was your cavalry commander, and one of ours at that!"
"Oh, he isn't one of yours any more." Said the elf. "Haarkon of Luthany is now a Lord Allegient to the Topaz Throne. It turns out he has elvish blood and is a distant cousin to his Serene Majesty. That is what enabled him to face certain death with the sangfroid of the Noldor of old."
"Funny that", said the Llanisman. "How it always turns out that the lords who defect have elvish blood back from somewhere in the Old Kingdom. Extremely good geneological records you must have back over the mountains."
"Our records", said the elf, with immaculate poker face, "are unparalleled".
"We turned their flank! We had 'em bang to rights!" Roared the Llanisman, thumping the table with his tankard. "And there's an end to it!"
"And that's when milord Thandril made his move." Said the elf. "He sent in the entire infantry reserve and stopped the enemy knights in their tracks."
"The knights of Llanis could not be felled!" said the Llanisman. "Our steel is too strong and our horses too mighty."
"And the elves of the Topaz Throne could not be broken" said the elf. "Trapped against our shieldwall, you were quickly surrounded."
"If that cursed turncoat Haarkon had just died when he was supposed to..." Grumbled the Llanisman. "Englebert the Exemplary is the mightiest warrior of our company and was supposed to make mincemeat of him."
"It is a most spectacular duel." Said the elf. "Blade on blade, steel on steel. Haarkon was known to us as a skilled equestrian but as a swordsman, no better than most. He has suprised us all."
From outside the Grue and Ninepenny, Littorio heard the pounding of drums and the brazen blast of elvish trumpets. The mass of soldiers in the inn began to file out, separating into mannish and elvish regiments in the square out front. The Llanisman and the elf both finished their pints and hauled themselves upright with a cacophony of clanking. Littorio attempted to do likewise, but the length of his journey had clearly thrown off his balance and he gently eased himeslf back down.
"Yes, I heard about the duel when news of the battle first came to Herring's Reach last month." said Littorio. "What we weren't so sure of is who actually won. Could you... wait, what do you mean it is spectacular?"
"It's still going on." said the Llanisman, buckling on his pauldrons. "We're up to round 147."
"And we have the best view in the land." said the elf, shaking out the plume of her helmet.
"Unless your axe finally blunts today." said the Llanisman, grinning a grin which reminded Littorio of a chessboard.
"Or your helm caves in at last." said the elf. "Stay put, bard. Our shift is up in six hours and the next round is on me."
