"A well performed ambush on an unsuspecting enemy force could often turn the tables, and at times even allow numerically inferior troops to prevail over more numerous foes.
Secrecy and surprise are the most important when it comes to these ambushes, as ambushing an enemy that knows of your presence, would do little more than delivering your lives into your enemy's waiting spears instead." - Myrddin deVreys, Captain of the Death's Hand, Ptolodecca's team of trained battlefield assassins, circa 45 VA.
"Loose!" Faerghus gave the signal with a wave of his axe when the middle of the raider column passed by the hill they hid behind.
As one, four hundred archers nocked an arrow to their bows, pulled it as far as they could, aimed at the predetermined angle and direction, and let loose. Then they repeated the action again and again, since they were shooting without seeing their targets anyway, and thus prioritized saturation over accuracy.
Clouds of arrows suddenly streaked out from behind the hill as the elven raiders passed by, and caught them completely by surprise. Maybe fifty or raiders were unlucky and were struck by arrows on vital spots and perished or fell dying, while over three times their numbers were injured by the initial barrage of arrows.
When the subsequent barrages came down, the raiders were more prepared and many arrows were deflected away, yet some still claimed their due as they landed on their targets and pierced flesh. At this point, fifty of the best archers among the militia had moved to the top of the hill, and fired far more accurate shots from there, while remaining well away from the range of the raider javelins due to the elevation.
Incensed by the ambush and the casualties they took, the thousands of raiders turned towards the hill and charged. Arrows kept raining down on them as they did so as scouts kept adjusting the range the archers should shoot for, yet they charged anyway despite losing members to the arrows.
By the time the elven raiders reached the foot of the hill, at least one tenth of their number lay dead, dying, or too badly injured to fight on, yet they cared not, and started climbing the hill with great alacrity and dexterity that would put humans to shame.
Some lobbed javelins at the archers at the top of the hill but their projectiles fell just short. Regardless, the threat made the archers there withdraw to behind the hill after one last salvo of arrows.
The main body of the raider troops had gone straight up the hill, while two smaller detachments, maybe four to five hundred each, had circled to the sides in the hopes of going around the hills and catching the ambushers from behind.
Instead, what they saw when they circled their way around the hill were armored men on horses, who were galloping hard downhill and headed straight for them with weapons drawn. Faerghus had kept track of the raiders' movement via his scouts and ordered the charge when he judged that they would run into the raiders right as they came into sight.
He had judged correctly.
A few raiders had the presence of mind to haphazardly throw javelins at the cavalrymen, but found their projectiles either taken on shields, swatted away, or bouncing off plates. Most of them were caught by surprise and failed to reach in time.
The warhorses plowed into them instead. Elves died as bones were crushed beneath hooves and weapons were swung from a higher position, while the cavalry refused to allow themselves to be bogged down and slaughtered a way through the raiders with prejudice, before they took some distance, turned, and went in for another charge.
Raiders had not even gotten the chance to form the semblance of any formation when they found themselves at the receiving end of not one, but two cavalry charges. Faerghus had ordered a hundred of his templars to charge a short while after his group did, and now both groups arrived at once, charging head on towards the elven raiders from different directions.
Such a twofold charge broke the elven formation apart, and cavalrymen ran them down with their horses, or rained down blows from atop their mounts as they showed no mercy to the raiders that had dared to prey on their lands.
It took a good half hour or so before the slaughter ended and the cavalry regrouped. Faerghus ordered a quick count and found that over forty of his templars were either killed or incapacitated in the fight just now, which left him with a little over two hundred.
The battle at the top of the hill still raged hard, as the noises were clearly audible even from where they were, so Faerghus ordered a healer to stay behind and treat the heavily injured, while everyone else still capable of fighting was to follow him.
Two hundred or so templars rode behind Faerghus as he led the group back up the hill, which was fortunately not too steep. Once he got halfway up he finally got a glimpse of the situation at the top, and saw that the militia was still holding on, if only barely, since they had taken heavy casualties in the fight so far.
At least the raiders also paid the price in blood, as the archers took their toll on them from the unrelenting rain of arrows. Many of the archers had fired until their fingers bled from the repeated friction against the string, and some had even switched hands because they could no longer pull the bow with their main hand, yet not a single one had stopped shooting, unless death had claimed them.
From where he was, Faerghus couldn't see where Qravor would likely be coming from, but he did spot a different sight that brought joy to his heart.
Wagons full of soldiers were racing towards the hill from the road down south, and he would have bet against anyone that it was his siblings in the lead of those soldiers. They would likely reach the battle soon, and the sight of their arrival further emboldened the templars he led.
With a loud bellow, Faerghus ordered another charge into the fray, as his two hundred templars behind him echoed the bellow, and thus the elven raiders suddenly found themselves flanked by a group of eager cavalrymen riding at full gallop towards them.
"A well performed ambush on an unsuspecting enemy force could often turn the tables, and at times even allow numerically inferior troops to prevail over more numerous foes.
Secrecy and surprise are the most important when it comes to these ambushes, as ambushing an enemy that knows of your presence, would do little more than delivering your lives into your enemy's waiting spears instead." - Myrddin deVreys, Captain of the Death's Hand, Ptolodecca's team of trained battlefield assassins, circa 45 VA.
"Loose!" Faerghus gave the signal with a wave of his axe when the middle of the raider column passed by the hill they hid behind.
As one, four hundred archers nocked an arrow to their bows, pulled it as far as they could, aimed at the predetermined angle and direction, and let loose. Then they repeated the action again and again, since they were shooting without seeing their targets anyway, and thus prioritized saturation over accuracy.
Clouds of arrows suddenly streaked out from behind the hill as the elven raiders passed by, and caught them completely by surprise. Maybe fifty or raiders were unlucky and were struck by arrows on vital spots and perished or fell dying, while over three times their numbers were injured by the initial barrage of arrows.
When the subsequent barrages came down, the raiders were more prepared and many arrows were deflected away, yet some still claimed their due as they landed on their targets and pierced flesh. At this point, fifty of the best archers among the militia had moved to the top of the hill, and fired far more accurate shots from there, while remaining well away from the range of the raider javelins due to the elevation.
Incensed by the ambush and the casualties they took, the thousands of raiders turned towards the hill and charged. Arrows kept raining down on them as they did so as scouts kept adjusting the range the archers should shoot for, yet they charged anyway despite losing members to the arrows.
By the time the elven raiders reached the foot of the hill, at least one tenth of their number lay dead, dying, or too badly injured to fight on, yet they cared not, and started climbing the hill with great alacrity and dexterity that would put humans to shame.
Some lobbed javelins at the archers at the top of the hill but their projectiles fell just short. Regardless, the threat made the archers there withdraw to behind the hill after one last salvo of arrows.
The main body of the raider troops had gone straight up the hill, while two smaller detachments, maybe four to five hundred each, had circled to the sides in the hopes of going around the hills and catching the ambushers from behind.
Instead, what they saw when they circled their way around the hill were armored men on horses, who were galloping hard downhill and headed straight for them with weapons drawn. Faerghus had kept track of the raiders' movement via his scouts and ordered the charge when he judged that they would run into the raiders right as they came into sight.
He had judged correctly.
A few raiders had the presence of mind to haphazardly throw javelins at the cavalrymen, but found their projectiles either taken on shields, swatted away, or bouncing off plates. Most of them were caught by surprise and failed to reach in time.
The warhorses plowed into them instead. Elves died as bones were crushed beneath hooves and weapons were swung from a higher position, while the cavalry refused to allow themselves to be bogged down and slaughtered a way through the raiders with prejudice, before they took some distance, turned, and went in for another charge.
Raiders had not even gotten the chance to form the semblance of any formation when they found themselves at the receiving end of not one, but two cavalry charges. Faerghus had ordered a hundred of his templars to charge a short while after his group did, and now both groups arrived at once, charging head on towards the elven raiders from different directions.
Such a twofold charge broke the elven formation apart, and cavalrymen ran them down with their horses, or rained down blows from atop their mounts as they showed no mercy to the raiders that had dared to prey on their lands.
It took a good half hour or so before the slaughter ended and the cavalry regrouped. Faerghus ordered a quick count and found that over forty of his templars were either killed or incapacitated in the fight just now, which left him with a little over two hundred.
The battle at the top of the hill still raged hard, as the noises were clearly audible even from where they were, so Faerghus ordered a healer to stay behind and treat the heavily injured, while everyone else still capable of fighting was to follow him.
Two hundred or so templars rode behind Faerghus as he led the group back up the hill, which was fortunately not too steep. Once he got halfway up he finally got a glimpse of the situation at the top, and saw that the militia was still holding on, if only barely, since they had taken heavy casualties in the fight so far.
At least the raiders also paid the price in blood, as the archers took their toll on them from the unrelenting rain of arrows. Many of the archers had fired until their fingers bled from the repeated friction against the string, and some had even switched hands because they could no longer pull the bow with their main hand, yet not a single one had stopped shooting, unless death had claimed them.
From where he was, Faerghus couldn't see where Qravor would likely be coming from, but he did spot a different sight that brought joy to his heart.
Wagons full of soldiers were racing towards the hill from the road down south, and he would have bet against anyone that it was his siblings in the lead of those soldiers. They would likely reach the battle soon, and the sight of their arrival further emboldened the templars he led.
With a loud bellow, Faerghus ordered another charge into the fray, as his two hundred templars behind him echoed the bellow, and thus the elven raiders suddenly found themselves flanked by a group of eager cavalrymen riding at full gallop towards them.
