The Battle Of Buffalo

 From the journals of Lord McKaiser, Supreme Commander of the armies of Ahritee:

"We camp this night on the eastern bank of the River Ankol. Our wounded stir and mutter in their restless sleep. It is with a heavy heart that I chronicle, before the campfire, the fortunes of our campaign.

But five days before this gloom-filled night, we crossed this selfsame river, riding and marching west. Our hearts were lifted as high as the brave standards,  fluttering in the breeze. The blessings of the bishop Chambè were in our hearts, a song of war upon our lips. The Ankolites would taste, e're many days, the wrath and vengeance of Ahritee.

We made camp on the western bank. The old general, Lord Jayzee, with tales of battles past and warlike songs and dance did strengthen and encourage our hearts. 

Upon the plain of Buffalo, the Ankolites stood in array. Chief of our foes,  Cyrus The Cautious, his chariot to the rear, had neither smile nor frown upon his face. 

"Mark well the king", I commanded our generals.  "When we take him, this day's work is done."

The legion of the Northwest, having deserted their liege lord, had added to our numbers. Strife, treachery and confusion were in the camp of the enemy. All augured well for victory.

And indeed we pressed the foe sore. Fear was in their eyes and pallor on their brows.  Alas, when victory was but a hand's-breadth away, the battle turned. I know not by what trickery or evil spells, for in the heat and dust of battle, there is much confusion.  Some say that swords  were bought with gold. Be that as it may, though we carved a bloody path to Cyrus, a Mantashite warrior shielded him from our keen blades. His girth was that of two stout men. He smote many of our valiant warriors, bellowing oaths and curses in a voice like a brass instrument.

And so, the day was lost, for all the valour of our gallant men. I fear that the wounded may not see another sunrise. Captain Dirko lies among them. Even our gallant warrior women, Lady Endazed and Princess Lianda, were sore wounded. 

We ride and march at dawn for Castle Incandescent. There is much planning to be done, for surely, even now,  Cyrus unleashes the legions of The Hawks and The Serpents to wreak bloody vengeance.

More sorrows follow. A messenger come lately from the city of Durb-Ann, tells that the Lady Dodia, stricken with grief, will neither eat nor drink, but cries out, without ceasing: "Treachery, Oh Treachery".  It may hap that her good father, Lord Jayzee, can soothe her wounded spirit with song and dance (for he has the gift of healing music). 

All may yet be well. We must believe."

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