(Third-person perspective)
Vale of Arryn in the golden light of dusk, Yarick stood atop a small hill, his gaze piercing the horizon as the armies of House Hunter and House Elesham steadily advanced.
Yarick's plan mirrored Aermir's strategy. An invisible army lay hidden deep in the forest, ready to strike the Mountain Clans when the fighting was at its fiercest. He was filled with anticipation. Every heartbeat resonated with his excitement, the air thick with the scent of damp earth. Today, he would prove himself stronger than that arrogant bastard Aron, bringing glory to his family.
Eddrick Hunter and Jareck Elesham underestimated the Mountain Clans; they charged directly at them without any tactical preparation, encountering immense resistance in the infantry engagement. To salvage the situation, he made a hasty decision: to order a cavalry charge. They were to attack the Mountain Clans from the flank. They were on the plains, on their home turf; they would not adopt a defensive posture, but would annihilate those arrogant barbarians who dared to come here.
Eddrick Hunter, leading the charge across the Vale, was completely unaware of the danger beneath the calm meadows. The knights, clad in gleaming armor and bearing the banner of the House Hunter, charged forward, their rhythmic hooves echoing through the valley.
They were only a few hundred meters apart when the first signs of Trap appeared as the grass loosened under the hooves of the vanguard horses. The pit, cleverly concealed by Aermir's Earth Release Technique is a type of magic used in Chinese fantasy novels), wreaked havoc on the once-united Vale cavalry. Horses stumbled and fell, knights were thrown to the ground, and chaos erupted like Wildfire.
Yarick watched with unwavering resolve as the plan unfolded. The Vale People, struggling to regain their composure, found themselves in chaos. An unseen Trap had been set, and Mountain Clans archers, concealed behind their shields, unleashed volleys of arrows, exacerbating the Vale People's predicament. Yarick could only say...
"How pathetic!"
He turned to his cavalry and spoke.
"Brothers, it's time to show them what it means to mess with us, and let's show the other families how real men fight!"
His men made a commotion, and they left the hill and began to enter the forest.
Eddrick Hunter, a great and renowned knight, managed to control his roll and evade the imminent danger. He had no broken bones, but every part of his body ached. His armor was scratched and dented, and his mount bore the marks of battle. The horse's leg was broken, bleeding, and howling in pain. Eddrick could see the bone protruding from the flesh like a spear.
At the same time, detachments emerged from the Mountain Clans' ranks, like vengeful spirits, and charged at them. Their charge, though not entirely unexpected, threw the Vale people into further disarray. Eddrick felt as if the earth itself was fighting against them.
Tormund the Bull, leader of the Howling Mountain Clan, clad in magical armor, led the Mountain Clans with unwavering resolve. His warhammer gleamed with a faint aura of magic. The enchanted weapons and armor, a gift from Aermir's magic, had mitigated losses and allowed the Mountain Clans to hold off the Vale people's attack at the start of the battle, but they knew now was the time for the valley people to run rampant.
The clanging of steel, the screams of the wounded, and the clamor of war dances painted a vivid picture in the valley. Eddrick Hunter, now aware of the lurking danger, loudly ordered his cavalry to regroup and demanded a retreat, warning that his infantry would catch up with them within minutes if they held out.
Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a colossal, golden creature hurtling towards him. He raised his shield to defend himself, but the immense force of the impact sent him staggering back several steps; he nearly fell, but managed to regain his balance. The collision left a large dent in his shield. Tormund swung his warhammer, making it nearly impossible for Eddrick to get close.
Occasionally, enchanted weapons collide with the steel of the Vale, causing enchanted armor or weapons to shatter into many fragments, injuring or killing those nearby. Most of the time, these people are Vale dwellers.
Tormund was a massive man, the size of Greatjon Umber, with a tangle of messy, blond hair that fell over his shoulders. He wielded an enchanted warhammer that looked almost playful in his imposing hands. After his first strike, Eddrick's men began to defend him. Tormund swiftly felled them with two heavy blows.
The warhammer, imbued with Druid Magic and inscribed with a weight-reducing spell, deceived Tormund's enemies with a dauntless speed. It swung effortlessly in his hands, delivering fatal blows to those unfortunate enough to face its wrath.
Eddrick Hunter was a skilled knight who wielded his longsword with practiced ease, standing firmly behind his metal shield. Tormund swung his massive warhammer, the clang of metal echoing through the valley. Despite his heavy armor, Eddrick was agile, using his shield to deflect the onslaught, and his longsword danced gracefully in the face of relentless attacks.
The Vale Knight fought valiantly, but the relentless blows took their toll, leaving him utterly exhausted. Tormund, empowered by Druid Magic, possessed greater stamina than ordinary people, and he pressed forward with unwavering spirit.
As the battle reached its climax, an exhausted and battered Eddrick put up a final stand. Tormund swung his warhammer with a deafening roar, the impact shattering Eddrick's defenses. Eddrick's shield could no longer withstand the force of the blow and collapsed. His arm snapped in agony. He screamed, but at the same time, he struggled to maintain his distance.
Tormund gave him no time to catch his breath, launching a relentless charge. Without his shield and completely unprepared, Eddrick fell to the ground, his body torn to pieces by Tormund's merciless assault. He breathed his last in immense agony.
Tormund, the leader of the Howling Mountain Clan, stood amidst the ruins, his warhammer dripping with the crimson essence of victory; he raised the warhammer to the sky and let out a primal roar that shook the hearts of every Vale dweller who heard it.
Every knight and soldier around turned their gaze to this scene. Tormund stood on Eddrick's corpse, Eddrick's lifeless body bearing witness to their merciless dance, his body mutilated and almost unrecognizable. Tormund shouted again.
"For the Old Gods! For the Druid!!"
Aermir's meticulous preparations transformed the battlefield into a complex web of darkness. The barren terrain, seemingly untouched, concealed the dangers lurking beneath. Aermir used his mastery of the earth and vegetation to manipulate the land they stood on. These holes, large enough to fit a foot, were strategically placed along the side of the Vale's main force's charge, creating dangerous obstacles for unsuspecting cavalry and infantry.
Every wrong step resulted in a broken leg, and the once coordinated charge descended into chaos. Chaos and panic spread through the ranks, and soldiers became victims of these unexpected Trap, turning the battlefield into a scene of pain and chaos.
Aron kept pondering a question: how did they dig tunnels without leaving any trace on the grass? The battlefield had become a deceptive landscape, with the enemy lurking beneath the seemingly undisturbed cover of nature, while the Vale People were trapped in this Trap. If Aermir's men managed to advance to one side, he would smooth the ground and erase the tunnel entrance.