The 22nd of Thaw, 10 and 3rd Century

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On Jard, vast oceans separate seven continents, each host to civilizations both young and old. The fires of war heat their forges for the coming conflict, as forces older than the very bones of the land itself come to claim their place amongst the mortal races of Jard.   An Oathless assassin stumbles into a war he did not choose, for family he long ago left behind. The fate of nations hang in the balance, and a band of disgraced warriors might just have the clout and the luck to tip the scales.
"The boy felt his mind whirling. He lay his hands on his knees, catching his breath. A quick glance in either direction told him the other students didn’t share his exhaustion. Stonemother! How in the hell can I compete? Already, his heart was throbbing frantically in his chest, and lances of white hot pain coursed through his shield arm.   At his feet lay the offending tool, a shield cracked down the middle and splintered all across its face. The top half of his training sword lay across it, the handle somewhere behind him. He kicked the broken weapons to the side, and the young Second leaning against the wall quickly bent over and collected the wooden fragments, before returning to his post. The boy’s shoulders were at eye level for the Second, though he knew they were the same age. Primes were always bigger. The boy rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen up the knots that were forming there."

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One of the primary advantages of the riddari is their incredible mobility. Rather than stop to feed themselves they would consume Marr milk regularily and fill out the rest with minimal jerky rations. They essentially travelled just as fast as the news did, and so the enemy never had time to prepare for their arrival. Is it a closely guarded secret that all Marr trained for riding are female.
  • Dankirk the Scholar