Day the Sixth of the Tenth Moon, Year Two Thousand Ten and Eight

Fat, and perhaps somewhat sluggish from the immense spoils pilfered in their conquest of the castle on dreary Mount Nittano, the men of Columbus had scarcely time to unfurl their banners and look to their horns of mead before a new menace crested the hills to the west of the grand city of Columbus. These ruffians attired in mismatched armor of leather, scale, and animal bone marched under a crude but intimidating banner of a trident. These folk were called the Hoosia, a primitive tribe who eeked out a living through banditry and corn growing in the hinterlands between the Golden Empire of Notradamus and the Duchy of Purdue. Their leader was a sprightly failed knight by the name of Thomas of Allensbridge, once a man of some minor renown whose misadventures led him to take charge of a motley band of barbarians. 

Despite their pathetic weaponry (copper swords, primitive leather slings, short bows, and stone-tipped spears) the Hoosia presented more of a threat to the men of Ohio than anyone, certainly Lord Urban, could have possibly anticipated. Sir Thomas of Allensbridge had instill'd in these once disorganized and uncouth savages a semblance of rank and discipline. Supporters by archers, slingers, and a small smattering of cavalry (mounted on the backs of direwolves and marsh ponies), the Hoosia managed to mount a combined-arms assault on the overconfident host of Ohio. In the early stirrings of the pitched battle, the men of Columbus (perhaps some still inebriat'd from the feasting and frivolities after the sack of Mount Nittano) suffered grievous losses, many laid low by spear or slingstone. Even Lord Urban of Meyer himself was brought down from his horse by a wayward stone, though the great conqueror maintained his wits and was soon attended to by his loyal charges. 

And though those around him did falter, Sir Haskins of the Strong Arm remained a paragon of strength and fortitude, hacking and slashing his way through a great swath of Hoosia warriors, harrying even Sir Thomas himself before the disgrac'd knight turned tail, secured by his loyal host of berserker bodyguards. With their assault broken, the Hoosia could press their advantage no further, and with Sir Thomas in flight, they lost that semblance of discipline and knightly gallantry that had allowed them even an unladen African sparrow's chance at victory, and the proverbial coconut did fall hard upon the tiny bird that was their hope of triumph. 

Surrounded and hemmed by the charging cavalry of Columbus, the Hoosia collapsed, and the wounded but unflagging Lord Urban did himself lead the final charge. A dozen Hoosia chieftians were killed or captured in the final rout, and once more the great city of Columbus was secur'd.