Gulf Wars, Day 3 (Wednesday, March 16th) - Part Two

Fresh from our first victory, the Meridian Rapier Militia regrouped and took up our assigned position for the next battle. This time, we were on the right side of the main line, but starting from the downward side, near the treeline. So, effectively, we were holding the same flank as before. To my surprise, the other side had done the same thing, leaving us facing the same units we had in the previous battle. They were the Gleann Abhann contingent and our numbers were fairly even. The Kingdom of Gleann Abhann has some good fighters (some damn good), but it looked like this year their forces had a disproportionate number of newer people. Not only that, but most of them were using a sword and a large "war buckler". In contrast, Meridies had fielded quite a large number of Captains and mid-level fighters. Also, most of us were using a case of swords. So, they were just the tiniest bit outgunned. That would explain a lot about how the first battle went and I was feeling pretty confident that this one would be no different. Nor was I wrong. Lay on was called and we began our advance. Our line stayed pretty solid as we approached mid-field, but, strangely, the other side had decided to use some bizarre staggered line as they engaged. That left the first ten or so of them trying to fight against more or less our full strength. Needless to say, the outcome was predictable. They hit us in small clumps that were easily dispatched. Once we'd cut them down, we moved on to slam into the next part the enemy line. We had an open flank in front of us and in no time had collapsed it in on itself. We pressed them mercilessly and victory seemed well in hand. It was then that I found myself once again standing in a pocket of calm. Mikolaj and I held back to survey the field, looking for where we could do the most good (or the most damage, rather). It was well that we did. Two enemy fighters had broken free of the press and were running for the open field behind our line. "Stop the rabbits!" someone yelled. Indeed, thought I. My body had already reacted and I found myself running to cut them off. Mikolaj was right behind me, but his presence barely registered, so focused was I on my target, the lead rabbit. I caught up to him and held his pace, legs churning, heart pounding, the thrill of pursuit driving away any hint of doubt or exhaustion. I was going to stop him, kill him if possible, and that was that. He turned slightly toward me, still running, and our blades came together. Once, twice and apart again as we maneuvered ourselves for best advantage, him trying to get away and me trying to bring him to a stop. Finally, he seemed to realize that he would have to fight me in earnest. It looked to me like he tried to stop and engage, but my reflexes kicked in an instant too soon. My left hand blade snaked out, a slivery blur in the sunlight, and took him in the ribs before he could react. Inertia took over as his attention was pulled from what his feet were doing and he went down with a yell. He rolled a couple of times to break the impact and wound up laying on his back, one hand over his ribs. I immediately called a hold, dropped my blades and kneeled down to see if he was all right. Marshals were quick on the scene and got his mask off. My opponent was none other than Don Crowley of Ansteorra. I apologized muchly, of course, and despite his obvious displeasure with the situation, he was as gracious about it as could be expected. The marshals determined that we were both at fault (swordplay while running is frowned on) and he retired from the field of his own accord to recover. The battle continued, but it was more or less over at that point, with just a few skirmishes here and there left to be resolved. Once again, our side emerged victorious. The War Point for the Field Battle was ours! Next up, the Ravine...