Kudri Whitefire looked at the faces around her, mostly Nords like herself, but with a smattering of the other races; Redguards, Bretons, Orsimer, Dunmer and Cyrodiils. They wore a motley bunch of armour leather, studded, elven and glass with a whole range of different weapons and shields. It was all brought together by a common overcoat with the Bruma black eagle on yellow ochre background. To distinguish them from the regular Bruma troops the eagle clasped a red skull in it’s talons. These irregular troops, mostly adventurers whom the war had shorn of a living, were ill-disciplined in a military sense but powerful fighters and Kudri was proud to lead them. Because they were irregulars some generals had questioned their commitment in battle. Kudri knew that this speech was needed after the Imperial losses of the previous year and the vicious Sack of the Imperial City
"Our Imperial Jewel has been raped by those hungry for the bloody slavery of our peoples." She looked into the eyes of all her troops... "We are returning for vengeance!"... "But we, the Bruma Reivers, have to do our blood work first... We must harry and raid... We must throw a black noose round their mages... We must make sure those Dominion dogs know nothing of the battle blizzard that General Jonna brings!". She looked at their haggard, hardened jaws.
"Yes we've had losses over the past years and we've been at the blunt end of a hammering but us Reivers have been the hawks of harrying, have we not?"
"Arrr" assent rumbled like a low mist towards her.
"Did we keep the Bruma road open?", "Arrr" rumbled back. "Did we hack and harry and hit the Aldmeri? Have they come to fear our hawk call? Does the Dominion fear to leave their beds because the Reivers will bring the red ruin to them?"
"Arrr!", "Arr-arr", "Arr-arr!" The rumblings had increased in pitch until the high pitched hawk call that was their battle shout rang out. She knew she had their attention then.
"Our Emperor has a plan and General Jonna, along with the other legions, marches now. We are the light troops, the scouts, the harrowers who will keep those Aldmeri arselings blind to the Mede's might. We'll break our winter camp tomorrow and move back to our spring fighting pattern, your hand leaders will deliver your orders in the morning. Hand commanders to me, troops DISMISSED!"
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Meara Benirus followed the rest of her hand back to their tent, she looked around at them; Sha gro-Shak "Shaker" a bright green warrior Orsimer, Droma Talylin "Tally" a quiet Dunmer mage-scout and then the Nords siblings Hafon "Hey boy" and Hartha "Hey gal" from Hjaalmarch. Hafon was hand-leader, due to the hard learnt lessons of the early part of the War only Nords could become hand leaders. The Thalmor were masters of disguise, illusion, infiltration and by those under-hand measures had nearly destroyed the Reivers in the first years of the war. Kudri WhiteFire, the pale Nord and her hand had been the only survivors for a reason; they had hard rules based upon the structure of the Dark Brotherhood.
Now the Reivers were strong, re-built upon their rules;
The Rule of Friendship - new members of a hand were introduced by other well trusted members, this also meant that each hand made enormous efforts to ensure the next rule did not need to be enforced. Whilst your hand and friends knew your first name it was never used only a second or nick name was used. The first name was hidden for the Rule of Identification.
Rule of Responsibility - No one gets left behind alive, thus it is each member of the hand's responsibility to ensure that none of the squad could be used by the Thalmor against the Reivers; each member carried a deadly poison to be used if they were taken. Standing orders meant any member of the Reivers seeing another Reiver captured were duty bound, upon pain of death after a court-martial if they failed, to shoot the deadly poison into their comrade.
Rule of Identification - On each meeting you prove who you are, a set of frequently changed handshakes and codes, particular to the hand members, used to ensure that the Thalmor had not impersonated or ensorcelled the Reiver. Sole survivors of a hand during battle were not allowed back into the Reivers and had to leave knowing that they'd not kept their friends alive. Three simple rules of survival in the Great War.
Tally dropped back, as a fellow Anviler, although a Dunmer, and Scout she'd taken Meara under her wing, her nickname was obvious... "Beni let's get some more training in before we head out.". Inwardly Meara groaned her muscles still feeling sore after weeks of hard training, mornings of sword & battlecraft, afternoons of woodcraft sneaking around the woods hunting deer and evenings of magecraft in illusion and conjuration.
Since her arrival at the Reivers the days had blurred in the world of her Hand, the Fiddlers "cos we like playing with ourselves". Most swordcraft sessions involved all the team; 3 on 2, 4 on 1 and battlecraft was against other Hands. This was their secret method, the team tactics employed by each Hand and their joint tactics amongst the Hands. The Thalmor with their fanatic organisation & discipline struggled against the flow and seeming chaos of the Reivers. Or rather, now they did since Kudri had reorganised the Reivers.
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In the White City Magister Phaegol listened to General Naarifin with rising glee; a chance to prove himself to the Dominion high command as well as blasting those lesser Talos worshipping races. The evening was looking up. Naarifin finished
"I need you to wreck the Reivers and discover what Titus is planning."
Phaegol led a Thalmorion of troops; mostly Bosmer with an Altmer elite core of battle-magi. He was typical; pale, light haired, tall with a straight narrow nose, long pinched face with eyes also narrowed giving a supercilious look. This was only intensified when discussing the non Elven.
The Reivers had gained a fearsome reputation in 4E 174 by harrying the Thalmorions during Titus II's escape from the Imperial City. No quarter was given nor expected by the Reivers and the Altmer had learnt to respect their elusive combat prowess. It infuriated and insulted their Elven Supremacist sensibilities, hence there would be great kudos to the Magister who destroyed them.
Phaegol had built a unit based on closely ordered conjured elementals supported by Bosmer archers and a phalanx of battle-mages, conjuring the front rank of elementals, behind. They had well drilled battle tactics defined for all terrains and circumstances. Command and control was how he ran things. Of course the reason why the Dominion was superior was that humankind were weak, the Reiver’s traitor he'd secretly secured was proof of that.
The traitor sent intelligence via encrypted message returned by Bosmer controlled creatures. He knew they had been wintering in the Bruma Caverns, expanded into a military base and was awaiting the latest report.
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