Armande stood erect on his horse atop Viltere hill, with a posture radiating a calmn command over his survey. The gleaming knight slowly raised the shield over his left shoulder just behind his left paulderon. He glared into the horizon, he did this not with the empty stare of one day dreaming but more of a master chess player taking in the entirety of the board anticipating the moves before him. His concentration was lost for a moment has his naked arm fumbled for the delicate lace his tunic had guarded til now. He brought his gauntlet which was delicately handling the prize to his chest and gazed upon the lace with warm eyes as if it returned a familliar smile back. A warmness flowed through Armande's torso and into his arm that woke his idle arm from the reins. With an energized motion removed his families ancient heirloom from its resting place. The blade sung like a minstral as it met the open air. He brought the swords regal hilt to meet his face and bowed his head to it in respect as he said his prayer of battle to The Lady. After a moment, he let out a deep breath raised his head to observe the lace bearing gauntlet as it began the final ceremony it often did before such ordeals. The hand began to weave the lace around the fingers which gripped the pommel. As the lace wrapped around his weapon all he could see is his fair Elise gracefully tieing the ribbon into her flowing black hair, and turning with a smile sculpted in The Lady's own image.

Behind Armande reverberated the percussion of a dozen Bretonni steeds clomping their hooves in the soft earth. The Knights' plate mail rattled in harmony to their mounts movements. "Sir Vambert, The two forward garrions are failing to the invaders, they are mere peasents and only have their courage and pride of their land to match the beasts heartless onslaught. Please let us charge into glorious battle and show them the true might of Bretonnia's resolve." Armande veered his horse enouth to turn in the saddle to face his lieutenant. "The village is seven leagues from the nearest outpost. And we are outnumbered at least six to each of our one. These abominations from the waste are fearless beasts. They would rather smother us with their corpses than retreat." Lieutenant Richmonde almost interrupted with zeal "But sir our people will be slaughtered if we dont.." "So we will have to settle for being a distraction until the men-at-arms can fall back for reserves to arrive" Armande interrupted. Richmonde looked more pleased with the implied order of duty before him. Richmonde wheeled his horse around to the troupe of knights scattered behind him, and shouted "Knights of Couronne make ready yourselves for battle and become as a single lance" The knights gave a snappy response "Sir!" and with quiest discipline aligned themselves in the Bretonnian's signature formation. Richmonde took his place aside his captain. Armande glanced to his left in a motionless salute to his comrade and then peered right as their units standard bearer arrived in his position and rose the banner bearing Armande's family crest.

In the distance the battered and demoralized men-at-arms were being pushed back from the terrible advance the beastmen made, leaving a fallen peasents corpse to be trampled with each retreat. Suddenly, above the bloody cries of the men and the blood thirsty roars of the beasts a a deep booming sound came from one of the beasts battle horns that haulted their attack. The men were so terrified their line continued to pull back even though the assault had stopped. It took a moment to realize the entire beast unit had turned its eyes to Viltere hill as if completely unthreatened by their pathetic opponents. Back atop the hill Richmonde seemed almost instinctively spurred his horse forward but pulled back on the reins to hault his steed causing it to become restless. "They see us my lord" Armande raised his sword high into the heavens "Then let them feel us! CHARGE!" The unit became alive with the sound of battle cries and metal clashing agaisnt itself and thundering hooves. In return the horde of beastmen roared into the sky, already bloody weapons dripping a maddening rain into their faces. The beastmen chaged at the hill with preadatorial speed and fury.

(hehe just having a little fun fluffing up my paladin Armande. I just read "The Demon's Curse" and was about as fed up with the thinking of those dark elf bastards so this popped into my head =D )