Invasion

PROLOGUE

LLEWELLYN, BREE

Spring, 1E35

“Féach! Féach thall ansin!” a Brebon fisherman cried out, pointing towards the ocean whence he’d fled in the midst of his sprint through Llewellyn’s southern woodlands. The commotion startled the surrounding wildlife as a pair of his fellow countrymen threw their spears upon the forest floor in their frustration.

“Amadán tú! What’s the matter with you; are you trying to wake the entire forest?” one of the hunters swore furiously even as his companion grasped him by the shoulder.

“Look, Doughal! There’s something approaching on the horizon!?!” his fellow exclaimed, pointing towards a small black speck in the distance.

“Damn you, you fool! That distant speck is what you’ve decided to interrupt our hunt over?” the first hunter snapped furiously, squinting as he edged closer towards the shoreline and away from the woods that served as their hunting ground in an attempt to get a better view.

Exclaiming curses as they ventured forth only to discover that the source of the fisherman’s fright was none other than a fleet of ten massive warships, the pair ordered their frightened kinsman to seek out the rest of the tribesmen from their nearby village. The fisherman gratefully accepted the task, fleeing as quickly as he could to seek out the rest of their brethren leading up to the fleet’s arrival, passing along the orders to several of the villagers as he sought to spread the word prior to the fleet’s arrival. So it was that the pair of hunters braced themselves for the impending arrival of the mysterious ships, gazing in awe as they drew nearer where the ships were adorned with dragons as their figureheads, their gaping jaws seemingly rushing forth to swallow up their island nation. Before long, the village’s warriors had joined them on the southern shore, awestruck by the sight of the approaching fleet as it drew ever nearer to the Brebon coast. Nocking arrows to their bows, the tribal host took aim before letting loose their volleys once the ships were within range. Much to their surprise, however, the ships returned fire in kind, launching massive javelin-sized bolts at them via the deadly ballistae upon the main decks of the ships within the fleet.

“Dó agus bascadh ort!” one of the surviving Breelanders cried out, furiously cursing the ships and their mighty volleys as they fell crashing down upon the Brebon host with devastating effect.

“It’s no use, the sea demons are upon us!” another tribesman shrieked, fleeing for his life into the nearby woods whilst his fellows continued to fire relentlessly upon the incoming vessels.

“Stand your ground, damn it— we can’t allow these demons to land!” Doughal shouted, vehemently jerking his head to swing the dirty blonde locks of hair out of his eyes as he took aim once again.

“Yea, though we might stand our ground, it doesn’t mean that we have to fall like statues before these damned giants!” another tribesman shouted, ordering his fellows to seek cover as another volley of the deadly bolts rained down upon them, mistaking the ships’ ballistae for the bows of colossi.

Scattering in light of the deadly barrage, the Brebon warriors continued to stand their ground against the incoming invaders, though it was to no avail. The fearsome fleet closed the remaining distance undeterred by their attackers, casting their anchors once they’d reached the shallow waters leading up to Llewellyn’s southern coast. Thousands of soldiers attired in bronze armour and armed with spears, gladii, and spathae proceeded to form up in a box formation, taking cover behind the ornate red and gold box-shields that they carried to form an impenetrable wall as they made their approach. In comparison to the fair-skinned Breelanders attired in animal skins with flowing dirty blonde hair and beards to match, the invaders were golden-skinned with dark hair and beards that were neatly trimmed beneath their ornate helms. Although the men of the invading host shared the same features of tanned skin and dark hair, the native tribesmen took note that they seemingly spoke in two different tongues with a level of contemptuous division between them where they appeared to argue back and forth amongst themselves. Despite that fact, however, the ships’ ballistae continued to fire upon the Brebon defenders, forcing them to flee before the massive bolts, drowning out the dying shrieks of their kinsmen in the midst of their retreat. Luckily for the tribesmen, however, the commotion had alerted several of the neighbouring villages, prompting them to send forth their own warriors to investigate its source, thus reinforcing the Brebon men upon the coast.

“Dia dhaoibh a chairde! What’s going on?” one of the newcomers shouted in greeting to his fellow tribesmen even as another barrage of the deadly artillery rained down upon them.

“These damned demons have descended upon us from out of the blue depths of hell; what does it look like, amadán tú!?!” one of the survivors cried out in response, lobbing a spear at the wall of incoming invaders to little success. The spear simply embedded itself in a soldier’s shields, staggering the man as opposed to wounding or killing him.

“Futue vōs ipsi; deditionem aut mori!” another advancing soldier shouted furiously as one of his kinsmen shoved the staggered soldier forth to continue in their march upon the Brebon coast. Bracing themselves behind their shields as they sloshed through the shallow waters in formation, the archers amongst the foreign invaders’ ranks returned fire upon the savages before them, felling several dozens of the tribesmen on their course towards the Brebon shore. Though they repeated the phrase in the Common Tongue, the Breelanders found themselves unable to understand the orders, mistaking it for a battle-cry as they continued to assail the foreigners without relenting.

“At least they left their giants aboard those damned ships!” one of Doughal’s neighbours laughed uneasily as he fired another arrow upon the advancing legion to no avail.

“Do you think that makes any difference? We’ll have to face them either way if we hope to send these bastards back whence they came!” Doughal replied bitterly, joining his kinsmen as they shouted for the foreigners to deter from their advance.

“Focáil leat! Fuck off back whence you came!” the tribesmen shouted in unison, cursing the invading troops in their native tongue where it was their only language. Indeed, the people of Bree had never learned the Common Tongue where they found themselves isolated from mainland Aerbon, both geographically as well as culturally. As a result, both sides found themselves at an impasse where neither understood the other. Unfortunately for the tribesmen, however, they would quickly come to find themselves overwhelmed where they were outnumbered by nearly ten to one…