Smoke drifted lazily towards the azure sky of the homeland. The water gently lapping at the sandy lakeshore. The campsite looked abandoned. Tents half torn down with various goods laying about. High Ordinator Cormac knew he was the on trail. A green cloak sat upon his shoulders. The Moon and Star symbol emblazoned on its face. A similar tunic sat over his chain armor. He crouched down before the smothered firepit. "Cuireadh é seo amach ní fada ó shin" he stood abruptly. His men came forth from the woods. Some in hides wielding bows and arrows. Crude daggers sheathed in leather hilts. Others in fine leather armor wielding axes with shields of the same style as Cormac''s cloak. "Gasóga! Cé chomh fada agus a fuarthas ár sprioc?"
"Níl siad imithe ach cúpla sraithe chun tosaigh. ba chóir dúinn a bheith orthu ag titim na hoíche" replied one of the men in furs. Cormac nodded and followed him. His followers formed ranks and marched behind him
Later that evening
They were in postion now around the camp. The handful of watchmen guarding the forest had been quickly dispatched. But the camp was fortified. Well aware of the danger they were in. At least a dozen men were on guard with another half dozen asleep along with a few women. Cormac stepped forward with his axemen.
"Tráthnóna maith. Conas atá muid go léir? Tá moladh beag agam mura miste leat nóiméad de do chuid ama a thabhairt dom. mheasfá...ag brú amach! Gach duine agaibh! Anois!"
"Оставь эдофазиан! Или ты умрешь там, где стоишь!"
The camp awoke quickly and the men took up arms. Shieldmen drew swords and stood their ground
Cormac''s face grew grave as he shouted
"táimid ag troid ar son Horator!"
The axemen began to shout and cheer at the call. While the Novmirans shifted and raised their shields. Arrows wizzed over head dispatching a few who had not the chance to put on their armor. Cormac and his men charged forth and attacked. The battle raged for a while before the Novmirans broke. Either dying or fleeing into the woods. But not before killing their share of Cormac''s men. They fought desperately but we're overwhelmed. The women in the camp begged for mercy but were ignored completely by the warriors. Cormac stepped into the largest tent to take their prize. When he came out again. He held in his arms a baby no more than 2 years of age. Swaddled in the cloak he had on his back before the battle. The warriors and huntsmen knelled as the child was presented.
"Féach! Beirtear an Laoch arís!"