A woman took her spindle of thread and stabbed it into the neck of her assailant. Quickly she dodged a sword and backed away from the next one. She threw her spindle and it magically flew around the new assailant wrapping them up in thread, it must have been a [Skill]. She grabbed the ends of the threads and pulled. Her combatant wasn’t having it, however. He pulled away, but was unable to break the thread. Then his head was chopped off. She looked over at her ally thankfully. He was just a woodcutter she had gotten to know in the army. If they survived this she might even…

A bear of a man rawred a challenge across the grand melee of a battlefield. Hmm, maybe that was not the most accurate, it was possible it was a man of a bear. It was hard to tell either way with this hairy beast. He had seen his allies chopped up like wheat and was not worried. Because he was a true combatant, a [Soldier]. He wielded two axes and bared his chest to all. Not that it was showing anything but his hairy hide.

The woman tossed her spindle around the bear man [Soldier]. But the creature was unperturbed. He marched on as if the threads were not there. No it was the [Warrior Seamstress] that was having problems keeping the thread tight around the creature without breaking it. It was useless as the man was displaying what [Soldier]s were known for, being worth 10 or possibly even 100 of these peasant levies. The woodcutter and the seamstress locked eyes, knowing their end was near. If she knew then what she knew now, she would have told him. If she knew then she would have spent the night with him instead of spending her hard earned coin to spend a night with those scoundrels.

Looking at the man bear as he approached them, slicing down friend and foe alike as he marched toward his new targets the sound of thunder rang out. The thunder approached and all heads perked up. The bear man freaked out, dropping his axes and tried to run. But it was already too late. The cavalry had arrived. They were charging through the masses. They were unstoppable in this loose melee. The only thing that could stop a cavalry charge was a row of trained pikemen, good luck finding that here in this melee ruled by the sword and axe. Now the best they could find would be the occasional noble halberd, all the spearmen lay [Dead] at their feet.

The bear man ran but he was still crushed under hoof. The valiant and beautiful cavalry leader leading the charge on her glorious handsome mount. Oh, how the seamstress wished she could call her Onee-san… to her face. Or… in the stables… that giant green…

Prin ran over yet another soldier. She aimed for those specifically. There was really nothing stopping her and her velociraptor like mount. Without her mount she wouldn’t actually make it up the ranking ladder much past a 10 ranker. However, a proper mount, like proper equipment which she had, was a force multiplier and turned her from a 10 rank, to a 100 rank. She loved her beast, a monster of a mount that some noble from one of the more reluctant towns had kindly ‘donated’ to the cause along with handlers and stable workers to keep it healthy.

The beast was a lethal machine from it’s fangs to it’s bladed tail tip. But don’t let the blade on the tail fool you, it might as well have been a mace and a spear as well all in one. It’s eviscerating claws on its hands and feet were also incredibly sharp and quick. No this was a maelstrom of blades and deadly in fights or charges. It was a waste that the monster was originally used to hall a carriage. No, it might even be blasphemy? This was a battle hardened mount used as a mule! Yes, it was much happier with it’s ork companion and reveled in the blood. It sliced down it’s masters enemies with a bloodlust only matched by it’s battle crazed master in her heritage fueled rage. But it only attacked enemies and never allies, that was a mistake it would not repeat and a moment it knew true fear in it’s fairly intelligent monster mind.

Prin charged through the battlefield with the rest of the cavalry following closely behind. She opened up the charge and the hodgepodge of beasts cleared up the stragglers. Some allies that were not quick enough would be trampled but that couldn’t be the cavalries fault. The fact that they were cursed only twice as much on the enemy side had nothing to do with them.

Prin made a turn and the formation of allies opened up. Some of the enemy rank and file charged in to attack the now opened ally flank but it was a trap and all knew it. The allied formation was the anvil and the cavalry was the hammer. But it did not matter if they fell for it or not. The cavalry would plow them over.

The allied formation watched As the lead raptor sliced it’s way through the charging enemies, not that there were many dumb fools. Followed by several horse breeds including flaming ones or shadowy ones, or ones with tentacles coming out randomly. Lots of the mounts had random tentacles and eyes actually. There were also other animals and beasts, a good portion of the cavalry was made up of horses, then other types of animals. Then there were the odd standouts like the tentacle beasts that were only tentacles. Or the various reptiles and birds. One dwarven machine, a being that seemed to be made up of boxes, a thing that actually looked quite human if not for the giant front teeth, oversized ears, equal length arms and legs, long torso, and generally lanky body structure. It was also ridden by a horseman of the beastman tribe. The last of the cavalry was made up of two elephants holding each other’s trunks like they were out on a stroll. The riders were two women who were similarly holding hands and gazing down affectionately on their mounts/children.

The formation closed with seamless efficiency. This was not the first or the last that the cavalry would perform cleanup in a grand melee. The formations making up the ends of either side would press and hold or fall back as needed to keep the melee from charging inside but held the line. It was up to the soldiers themselves to fight and fulfill their [Quest]s for the day. Going back out into the melee on a rotation to keep organised and maintain their stamina.

Micky was in his tent busy as usual. Prin rushed in through the flap sweating green sweat and breathing heavy. She walked up to the wine jug like she owned the place and sat down on Micky’s desk looking over what he was currently working on. *Bleah* It was a boring old food budget report. Same old same old, ‘give me more food my men are starving!’ to be sent to command just so that we could get the same amount of food we have been. Micky learned the first day of command. ‘Your men are always starving and about to waste away of starvation’. It was basically rule number 1 of command, make it sound worse than it is. Rule number 2 was if you actually needed help make it sound like everything is fine and peachy.

Micky’s secretary, a fat muscular man that looked more like he should be tanking the hits on the field was standing off in the corner. Scribes and messengers arrived in and out in a flurry. Micky spoke without looking up. “Do you need something?”

Prin looked over a casualty report on his desk. Micky could probably have her flogged for it, if she didn’t scare the shit out of all his bosuns, sargents, and anybody else that would be doing it. They all knew not to mess with the female orks too much. “Nope, just came back to report that nothing really happened and we killed some people.” Prin said.

“Then can you stop staining my reports with your sweat, they're going to think it was because of some other activity. And I actually have a rep as a gentleman unlike some people who use their power to have their way with people.” Said Micky/

“Hay, none of them were unwilling to climb this ladder, alright?” responded Prin.

“Mmhmm, I’ll make a note of that to their wives. I’m also going to have to ask that you give Jaxon over there a full report on all the details. I leave you to it, Jaxon.” Micky said.

“Oh god no! Look I’m sorry. I won’t come in to drink your wine anymore ok? Please? Pweeease?” Prin said begging as Micky waved her away. It was probably the best punishment he could give the ork for acting like she owned the place. Even Micky had to admit the man was dry, strict, and exasperating as he was competent. And the man was very competent. Those were also the reason why such a competent man was foisted off to Micky. Because nobody else could stand him. Not because Micky could stand the man either, but being so low on the totem pole, he didn’t have much choice in the matter.