Thread:High Prince Imrahil/@comment-26210095-20170720015045

With a small smirk on his face, Veantur closed the spy-glass he held up to his eye. The Haradrim skirmisher cavalry had done their bloody work. Arrows had flown from their bows, blotting out the sun like a dark cloud and landing on the hapless Amrothian Knights. When the Swan Knights formed up for their assault against the quickly assembled Umbarian army, Veantur feared the worst. Umbar was like a ripe fruit, waiting to be sacked should they not act quickly. And so, he had not chosen to wait out a siege of the city, as some of his advisors had suggested, but meet them in open battle in the desert where they were vulnerable.

Yet, as mighty and fearless as the Swan Knights were, the steel-tipped spears of the Umbarian infantry was merciless, and the Swan Knights found themselves charging across the treacherous sand into a wall of spears, while the arrows of the archers hailed down on them. And then, in a swift motion, the Abarzani Red-Cloaks, the elite of the Umbarian infantry, smashed into the Amrothian forces, enclosing them like the jaws of a lion. Thus, the once-glorious forces of the Knights of the Swan, assembled in their power, was crushed and defeated, the sand stained with the mire of their blood and their bodies left as food for the vultures of the desert.

And, yet, some of them remained. Surrounded, beleaguered by a sea of men, stood alone the Royal Swan Guard, and the once blue but now stained with crimson, the standard of Dol Amroth, the Swan and Galleon. The banner yet flew, proud and defiant against their enemies. It was clear, they were trapped. And if Veantur's guess was correct, this army was led by none other then High Prince Imrahil himself, the Lord of Dol Amroth. Poor fool.

Addressing the man to his right, dressed in the crimson armor of a battalionlord, he said sharply "Assemble the Aru N'Adun Royal Guard. We will ride out, and cut the insolent remainder of the army down. Tell the men that the High Prince is not to be harmed, I want that man alive.

Nodding, the Battalionlord gave a signal to the signal-man nearby. A blast resounded on his horn, and the red flag with three red stripes was raised. The call for the final assault. With a final push, encouraged by the fresh royal guard cavalry, the rest of the Swan-Guard was cut down like wheat ripe for the harvest. Alone, the High Prince stood. Raising the visor of his helmet, Veantur revealed himself to the Prince. Sharp, angular features on a regal face. Skin tan from the hot Umbarian sun, with two eyes that shone like emeralds.

"It would appear you have been defeated, Princeling. Throw down your arms, and we will take you captive." 