"An army marches on its stomach. This old adage remains true no matter what age you live in, as soldiers need food to have energy to fight with. At our current age, with the proliferation of storage artifacts, logistics became far easier, as each soldier could easily carry their share of rations without extra burdens.

This relatively light load meant that our wagons and carriages could travel faster, hence more distance covered each day, which gives a decisive strategic advantage. On the contrary, necromancer led armies, despite their untiring nature, often lacked the short term mobility a living army possessed, as most undead were not made for speed. On the other hand, they are second to none when it comes to stamina and long distance marches for obvious reasons.

Elven raiders on the other hand, have the capability of covering great distances in a short span of time, yet they needed a long rest after such a sprint, and rarely performed it if they were to engage in combat at its end. This necessitated yet a different kind of tactic to counter, quite naturally." - Sadiq ibn Khalid, Grand Vizier of the Hassid Caliphate, circa 50 VA.

Trader's Road, Southwestern Vitalica, fifth day of the third week of the sixth month, year 47 VA.

From atop her mount - a docile mare with light brownish coat - Aideen turned to see the trail of wagons and cavalry behind her. She and Diarmuid currently rode at the front of two thousand and two hundred men and women, all soldiers on a mission to repel the incursion of elven raiders that had suddenly struck their nation.

For rather obvious reasons, Diarmuid had bid Kestera to stay home instead of joining him on the battlefield. Emotions already ran high with the news that three villages, and likely more on top, had been slaughtered already, and the last thing Diarmuid wanted was some friendly fire incident from someone carried away by their emotions.

The news they received while they traveled were somber, letters that let them know yet more villages had been sacked, though in those cases their residents had fortunately evacuated before the raiders arrived there.

Even so, villagers only had so much stamina, and in these three days most of them had gathered by Dersonc, a small town in southwestern vitalica usually serving as a trader's hub, to catch their breath and rest for a moment. Nobody knows however, whether the elves were right by their tails or not.

The detachment they led already had the small town in sight. It was right in the path the elven raiders had taken so far, and as such, they did not doubt that it would be their next target. It was just past afternoon when the detachment reached the city to some hopeful cheers from the populace and gathered refugees.

Diarmuid immediately ordered the soldiers to disembark, and for all the refugees to cram within the town for the time being. Militiamen arranged their wagons to form a makeshift fort around the township. Diarmuid and Aideen, along with the two hundred Death Guards under Tirya's lead, adopted a more central position where they could reinforce whichever area needed help the most.

It turned out that they arrived just in time, for the soldiers were still busy setting up the makeshift fort, and just about to start cooking for their dinners, when the first javelins rained on them. Fortunately the fort intercepted many of the javelins, but half the projectiles still went through and found flesh to sink into. Around ten soldiers were killed outright and four times as many lay injured after the surprise attack.

"Elves! To the west side!" Yelled a militiaman as he raised his shield and caught a javelin in it. Despite the initial panic, they soon recalled their training and formed a shield wall, which drastically reduced the casualties caused by the next wave of javelins.

"Southwest too!" Yelled another voice as more projectiles rained on the makeshift fort from another direction. A third voice from the northwest also cried for help as the elves began their assault with projectiles that way as well.

"Aideen, Tirya, take seventy each, handle the west and southwest. I'll take the rest and head northwest. Meet up with the others when done," said Diarmuid as he made a decision on the spot upon hearing the attacks.

To their west was a forested area from where the elves launched their projectiles safely while the militiamen could only return fire blindly with their bows. To the north and south however, were wide open plains, so any attempt the elves made to circle to their rear would be easily noticed.

Aideen nodded as her brother's command, quickly found the seventy Death Guards assigned to her, and took the lead as she ran straight towards the west with her staff in hand. Within the city, their mounts were of minimal use, but that was fine since the Death Guards were primarily trained as infantrymen to begin with.

The death guards took out large shields.and held it before them as they approached the frontlines and javelins rained down on them, with Aideen as the only exception. She deftly deflected two javelins headed for her with her staff instead, while the death guard behind her relied on their shields to take the barrage.

Four more barrages of thrown javelins greeted them as they advanced, with Aideen deflecting any that approached her. The feat earned her the surprised admiration of the Death Guards who were assigned to her, as they had never seen her fight before and had worried that they might be saddled with a babysitting mission on top of the mess with the elves.

Little did they know that Aideen trounced Diarmuid and Faerghus on their usual spars on a very regular basis, to the point that the last time she had admitted defeat to either of them was a decade ago in Ptolodecca.

By the time she reached the makeshift fort's walls no more javelins were incoming, and they saw the reason why. The elves were charging straight towards them, tall, gaunt figures clad in animal skins, and each of them held a javelin ready to be thrown as they ran towards the fort.

The raiders always saved one last throw for their advance.