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Prologue: Geoffrey De Beaumont


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dmronny

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1094 AD; York, Kingdom of England.

Geoffrey quietly led his men through the dark marsh in search of the small band of rebels who had met defeat at his hands earlier that day. Perhaps he would finally gain the recognition he deserved after serving the king so loyally all this time. He had been passed over so many times for other nobles, some of whom had barely participated in the securing of William's kingdom. Every attempt of his to gain any spoils of the war seemed to be stymied by some unseen force at court.

Where could those rebels have escaped to, they couldn't have gone this far into the marsh without leaving a trail. Still there was no sign of them anywhere not a broken branch or a boot print in the muddy soil. Then he realized there was something wrong, it was too quiet. Not a sound could be heard beyond the sloshing of water whenever his party took a step, not even a cricket could be heard.
 
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Re: Prologue: Geoffrey De Beaumont

Geoffrey was tired and sore from the long day. The cold and the wet didn't help his exhausted body, or keep his mind clear. If even he was having trouble keeping his guard and sword up, in what state would his men be in? Most of them were feudal levees, with only a smattering of veterans who made war their profession. When Geoffrey realized the marsh was dead silent, he squinted his eyes and peered into the utter darkness. Something was wrong...

"Men! Keep your eyes open... the forest is too quiet! We are being watched..."

As he watched his men jerk up to attention, Geoffrey focused on his senses, listening... watching for a sign of the rebels, gripping his sword hilt hard, using the pain of his stiff hand to force his mind to clear.
 
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The men stopped in their tracks and wearily readied their weapons, the veterans moving quietly to form the levees into a perimeter for defense. The silence of the marsh was deadening in Geoffrey's ears and wholly unnatural. It was if everything had suddenly died at their intrusion into the marsh. Than his keen vision saw it off to the left flank, the shadow had barely moved but it was definitely that of a man.
 

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With a steady, calm voice, but loud enough so his men could hear, Geoffrey called out: "Its an ambush! Ready your weapons men. After tonight, we shall be rewarded for our valor!"

Although Geoffrey spoke out true and convincing, he no longer believed his own words. For years now, he had fought and bloodied in the name of the King, doing the dirty work of chasing fleeing rebel bands through dark swamps, razing towns to the group, hacking off heads of foolish knights hoping to restore the old dynasties to the throne. But more and more, Geoffrey wondered who was the bigger fool. Them, or he?

Raising his shield to just below his eyes, Geoffrey adopted a battle stance, gripping his sword tight and pulling his arm back, ready to lash out at any charging enemy.

"Steady men... let them show themselves... let them come to us. They are just as a weary as we are, more so even, from fleeing our retribution all day long."
 
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The attack came swiftly from both sides as the handful of rebels poured from the trees. Several men on both sides fell immediately as they were impaled on spear and sword in the charge. His men began falling back from the charge despite their numerical superiority the rebels seemed to hew through his soldier's defenses with amazing quickness.

He had no time to rally his men yet as two of the rebels charged directly at Geoffrey himself with axes raised yelling their battle cries as they ran.
 

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Cursing loudly, Geoffrey sprang into action. His exhaustion had made him error and lead his men into an ambush, but would be damned if he didn't give it his all; there was still time to turn the tables. As the two men charged at him, screaming with axes raised high, Geoffrey launched himself at the left one, diving in underneath the man's raised axe, thrusting his shield towards the man's body and wheeling slightly so as to put the rebel between Geoffrey and his second opponent to the right. Summoning all his strength, wits and years of training, Geoffrey would do his best to keep circling and wheeling so as to constantly keep one of the rebels in the path of the other, waiting for them to strike out with their clumsy axes.
 
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Re: Prologue: Geoffrey De Beaumont

The initial shock of the ambush over, Geoffrey's men began to hold their own against the rebel's attacking them. Under the leadership of a few of the veteran soldiers they reformed the line and slowly began to push them back. Judging from the amount on both sides that were falling very few if any on either side would be returning this evening.

One of the axes whistles past Geoffrey's head, missing by mere inches, as he begins wheeling around his opponents. The rebel in front of him swings his axe with all his might for Geoffrey's shield, getting it stuck for a split second as the tremendous blow cracks the shield. The blow hurts even through the shield as if the rebel possessed the strength of ten men but Geoffrey is able to fight through the pain and see his opening.
 
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