christos200
Never tell me the odds
A letter to the King:
Translation to English:
Intrigue of Magic
- Thread starter Ailedhoo
- Start date
Translation to English:
christos200
Never tell me the odds
The Battle of Athespart:
- James Bismarc
- The Fleet of the Great Kingdom of the Sea
- Kraken
- James Bismarc
- The Fleet of the Great Kingdom of the Sea
- Kraken
It's a sunny day. James can see cleary the two ships send to Athespart from his flagship, "Ares". He waits for the Krakens to fall to his trap. As James is looking at the two ships, Hwo brings him some tea, which James drinks with delight.
"Thank you, Hwo. The tea is excellent."
"Sir...you do not seem to worry at all about the Krakens."
"Why should I? The beasts will fall to my trap. That is for sure."
As James spoke, suddenly Alexander run towards him shouting "Sir, the Krakens are attacking the ships!!!"
James watched as the beast come from under the water to the surface and attacked the two ships. James had sent those two smalls ships in this location to lure the Krakens to attack. And the Krakens indeed attacked.
"Sir, Nikos said, should we encircle them?"
"No. We shall wait for a minute or two."
"But, what if the ships are sunk?"
"They will not be sunk."
As time passed, more and more Krakens came to the surface. In two minutes, more than 7 Krakens came. Now was the time for James to order the encirclement of the enemy. And so he did. He shouted "Encircle them!! Now!!!!!".
The ships moved fast and managed to encircle the beasts. The Krakens were now surrounded by all sides. Not only they had not managed to sink the two small ships, but they were trapped now. James ordered his men to prepare their ballistas. And then he shouted "Fire!!!!". And his warriors fired from all sides at the Krakens. The Krakens went from being the hunter to being the prey. The blood of the beasts made the sea red.
For more than 30 minutes, the brave sailors fired at the trapped Krakens. "Fire!!! Fire!!! Fire!!!!" James shouted for more than 30 minutes. After those minutes, all Krakens were killed. In total 12 Krakens and 700 Fomori sailors had been killed. It was a great success for James. He had made the first step towards restoring free trade in the sea. But he still had other two locations to clear from Krakens and to protect Manannán. This was just the beginning.
Thorvald of Lym
A Little Sketchy
christos needs to fudging learn the setting of the game or GTFO.
AW CRAP
I'll try and whip something up. Any particular direction I'm s'posed to carry this, or do we just tag-team back 'n forth?
filli_noctus
Hmmn
- Joined
- Nov 22, 2010
- Messages
- 2,221
AW CRAP
Ping back and forth, it shouldn't take more than a couple of posts.
Thorvald of Lym
A Little Sketchy
The figure dismounted, standing stock-still. The remaining guard tried to look impassive, but the emissary smirked at the furtive glances cast in his direction. About eight minutes later, the sentry returned with three figures in tow, a noble of some sort and two more guards that remained a little ways off. As the noble stepped into the light, the emissary encountered the face of a male wolf with reddish fur. "Ranvild Langhogtann," he introduced himself with a curt bow, "At your service."
"I have a message for her majesty the Queen," repeated the figure in its raspy whisper.
"Milady is presently occupied," he replied in measured tones; "As Viceroy I am empowered to act on Her Majesty's behalf. What is your message?"
"I have a message for her majesty the Queen," repeated the figure in its raspy whisper.
"Milady is presently occupied," he replied in measured tones; "As Viceroy I am empowered to act on Her Majesty's behalf. What is your message?"
Ailedhoo
wonderer
- Joined
- Mar 19, 2012
- Messages
- 7,811
GM: In relation to: submarines are not in existence in Cumhail in this age.
...anyhow.
RP:
To King William III of the Surface Kingdom of the Sea
I have been observing the blood of kraken littering the sea. Let while your ships continue to prove useful in dealing with the surface dwelling kraken... there are those still in deep waters near our post. I request a reinforcement of dwelling warriors to swim and help contain these kraken pests. I see your love of the land dwellers ship technology has benefits your fight but you need remember your native advantage. These kraken are large and nasty; to disarm them of their tentacles has been our attempted strategy. Any rate the fight continues.
Still: kraken numbers dwindle in size.
Fight with the fearsome might of the Seas!
Lord Fionntan Mag Aonghuis of Manannán
Meanwhile...
...as Massif Opulence trade fleet sails with his orcish bodyguards for hire so do that the pirate fleet of Admiral Parjure Amiral heed in the seas, awaiting for prey. Small in size this fleet never the less is eager to try on anything for the hope of loot, loot, glorious loot and more loot to count.
...in this time the ghouls of the Banahogg are paranoid of what might be to come... especially with the lack of a message from the Death Hand assassin that was set forth... with rumours of the assassin's doom emerging to be of disturbance to the ghoulish presence.
...anyhow.
RP:
To King William III of the Surface Kingdom of the Sea
I have been observing the blood of kraken littering the sea. Let while your ships continue to prove useful in dealing with the surface dwelling kraken... there are those still in deep waters near our post. I request a reinforcement of dwelling warriors to swim and help contain these kraken pests. I see your love of the land dwellers ship technology has benefits your fight but you need remember your native advantage. These kraken are large and nasty; to disarm them of their tentacles has been our attempted strategy. Any rate the fight continues.
Still: kraken numbers dwindle in size.
Fight with the fearsome might of the Seas!
Lord Fionntan Mag Aonghuis of Manannán
Meanwhile...
...as Massif Opulence trade fleet sails with his orcish bodyguards for hire so do that the pirate fleet of Admiral Parjure Amiral heed in the seas, awaiting for prey. Small in size this fleet never the less is eager to try on anything for the hope of loot, loot, glorious loot and more loot to count.
...in this time the ghouls of the Banahogg are paranoid of what might be to come... especially with the lack of a message from the Death Hand assassin that was set forth... with rumours of the assassin's doom emerging to be of disturbance to the ghoulish presence.
christos200
Never tell me the odds
To Lord Fionntan Mag Aonghuis of Manannán,
You've send a letter to my King about my naval operations, but my King has told me that since I am the one who commands the navy, I should reply. In your letter, you want me to send warriors under the sea to protect your trading posts. But first, we need to exterminate the Krakens that are on the surface. It will not take too long time, and once this happens, I can send 25,000 Foromi warriors under the sea to hunt down the Krakens that attack you post.
With respect,
James Bismarc, Commander of the Fleet and the Army of his highness, the Great King William III.
You've send a letter to my King about my naval operations, but my King has told me that since I am the one who commands the navy, I should reply. In your letter, you want me to send warriors under the sea to protect your trading posts. But first, we need to exterminate the Krakens that are on the surface. It will not take too long time, and once this happens, I can send 25,000 Foromi warriors under the sea to hunt down the Krakens that attack you post.
With respect,
James Bismarc, Commander of the Fleet and the Army of his highness, the Great King William III.
filli_noctus
Hmmn
- Joined
- Nov 22, 2010
- Messages
- 2,221
The emissary pulled back his hood, his pale lips, skin and hair announcing him unmistakably as a White.
"It has come to my liege's attention that you are having issues with ghouls. Given that it it the policy of Formont to exterminate the ghoul menace we offer you assistance. A small horde of three hundred or so and a twenty strong regiment of White cavalry to control them. They would, of course, work in cooperation with your Crown Prince in the field."
"It has come to my liege's attention that you are having issues with ghouls. Given that it it the policy of Formont to exterminate the ghoul menace we offer you assistance. A small horde of three hundred or so and a twenty strong regiment of White cavalry to control them. They would, of course, work in cooperation with your Crown Prince in the field."
Thorvald of Lym
A Little Sketchy
The Viceroy stood silent for a moment, face unreadable as he stared unblinkingly into the eyes of Formont's tainted emissary. Forcing a smile, he responded: "We are most appreciative for your lordship's concern, and receive with most abundant gratitude his offer to aid our campaign against the ghoulish plague. However," though the envoy's expression remained unchanged, Ranvild could sense a shift in his airs, "We must apologetically decline, as our latest reports indicate the menace shall be permanently neutralized in two to three days' time. We should not wish to unduly impose upon the Lord Formont a troop dispatch that would arrive too late to properly participate."
filli_noctus
Hmmn
- Joined
- Nov 22, 2010
- Messages
- 2,221
"As you wish, my lord," responded the White, turning to leave the city.
After a few paces he drew rein and without turning he spoke.
"I know the living have no love for my kind and as my king has ordered me to take no offensive action against this kingdom, if it can be avoided, I must warn you that I sense a number of Necrites in the vicinity. If any attempt to harm or detain me I shall have them form a horde that, though small and no match for your forces, will probably ravage a village or two before you can make them lay down. Of course we are both quite civilised so it should not come to that. Good day, my lord."
As he finished speaking the emissary flicked the reins once more and rode into the weak sunrise, the early mists parting before him then swirling behind as if to cover his passage from mortal eyes.
After a few paces he drew rein and without turning he spoke.
"I know the living have no love for my kind and as my king has ordered me to take no offensive action against this kingdom, if it can be avoided, I must warn you that I sense a number of Necrites in the vicinity. If any attempt to harm or detain me I shall have them form a horde that, though small and no match for your forces, will probably ravage a village or two before you can make them lay down. Of course we are both quite civilised so it should not come to that. Good day, my lord."
As he finished speaking the emissary flicked the reins once more and rode into the weak sunrise, the early mists parting before him then swirling behind as if to cover his passage from mortal eyes.
KaiserElectric
Total Freakin Besties
- Joined
- Dec 2, 2007
- Messages
- 3,461
To: The High Technalate of Kunohir
From: The Kingdom of Thenisra
Greetings to the high technocrat of Kunohir! Would you be interested in a mutual exchange of science? Our scientists are greatly interested in your tomes and intellectual works.
From: The Kingdom of Thenisra
Greetings to the high technocrat of Kunohir! Would you be interested in a mutual exchange of science? Our scientists are greatly interested in your tomes and intellectual works.
Civ'ed
I ain't gotta explain a thing
Edict of Fairy Removal
Today the Bureaucracy has entered a new law into legislation. anyone not currently participating in a War of the Blossom against the foul orcs is hereby called to take the fight to the Cities of the Fairies instead. They are to be removed from these areas to cope with population growth or to act as testing grounds for Tlaloc Science. they are to be taken alive, and sent away to other fairy nations.
We see nothing wrong with this legislation as it only helps other nations expand their economy.
---
OOC: Yes. This is definitely the direction I want to take the Tlaloc Alliance.
Anyway, since I've had enough of just writing genocide and forced eviction from ghettos, I think I might try to expand the Tlaloc religion and law system a bit.
Earlier today, I was, under strict guarding, allowed to view the most holy site of the Tlaloc Faith, also known as Iztlacatini.
Many believe the most holy site it the Great Calendar Hall, but this would be a lie. It is indeed very sacred and routinely cleaned, moreso than any other location in the Alliance. However, the Tlaloc acknowledge it as a non-divine structure, and so their most holy site is the great Mount Xiptepecas. It is here that they believe that the spirits first touched the world and started to form it, indeed its very name means "creation".
I was assigned to a company of ten soldiers, armed with spears, shields and spiked clubs, which is standard for the Tlaloc warrior. Then there was one man on a palanquin, with four servants carrying him, I identified him as an important "man" withing Tlaloc society. I walked up to him, only then noticing 10 more soldiers escorting several Tlaloc dressed as birds or Garuda in the most vibrant colors imagineable. The dignitary explained that they had been found guilty of treason and were sentenced by death to air. I inquired about the nature of the palanquin, surely wheels would be more suited than men? The dignitary explained that this was two-fold.
Firstly, the wheel is sacred and using it to get around would be sacrilege and disrespectful.
Secondly, the mountain ascent would be too steep anyway.
It was indeed a very steep ascent, but in the end the sight was breathtaking.
There was not a single thing for miles but forest and a road leading off to the horizon.
At this point the prisoners in costume were dragged forward. They did not seem all to upset, rather cheerful.
They knelt before the dignitary, who had since stepped from the Palanquin. His feathered cloak trailed behind him.
"Here I see my well-loved sons."
one prisoner looked up.
"Here I see my dearest father."
The dignitary then read out the sentence. Not one prisoner lost his cheerful demeanor.
"Are there any last wishes amongst the gentlemen?"
For a nation that is xenophobic almost universally, they do treat their prisoners with utmost respect.
One prisoner asked for a drink "to ease the flying". Another asked for proper last rites. These were all granted. Then they each jumped. We never saw them again.
The Dignitary turned to me and explained why this was seen as a method of execution.
"It is a great honor to die on the area where Tlaloc himself touched the ground first. It is a more noble death than anything, even combat.
Like so, a criminal can truly be redeemed in the eyes of Iztlacatini. Through fire and earth he becomes part of Tonalamatl, through exile he is shamed. That is why these men are so cheerful."
It seems that the Tlaloc religion uses voluntary sacrifice.
We then left the mountain, and I bade the dignitary farewell.
Today the Bureaucracy has entered a new law into legislation. anyone not currently participating in a War of the Blossom against the foul orcs is hereby called to take the fight to the Cities of the Fairies instead. They are to be removed from these areas to cope with population growth or to act as testing grounds for Tlaloc Science. they are to be taken alive, and sent away to other fairy nations.
We see nothing wrong with this legislation as it only helps other nations expand their economy.
---
OOC: Yes. This is definitely the direction I want to take the Tlaloc Alliance.
Anyway, since I've had enough of just writing genocide and forced eviction from ghettos, I think I might try to expand the Tlaloc religion and law system a bit.
Tlaloc religion as seen from the point of view of a Human wanderer
My name is Sigurdr. My home is not important, for I have none, I live just for exploration. Earlier today, I was, under strict guarding, allowed to view the most holy site of the Tlaloc Faith, also known as Iztlacatini.
Many believe the most holy site it the Great Calendar Hall, but this would be a lie. It is indeed very sacred and routinely cleaned, moreso than any other location in the Alliance. However, the Tlaloc acknowledge it as a non-divine structure, and so their most holy site is the great Mount Xiptepecas. It is here that they believe that the spirits first touched the world and started to form it, indeed its very name means "creation".
I was assigned to a company of ten soldiers, armed with spears, shields and spiked clubs, which is standard for the Tlaloc warrior. Then there was one man on a palanquin, with four servants carrying him, I identified him as an important "man" withing Tlaloc society. I walked up to him, only then noticing 10 more soldiers escorting several Tlaloc dressed as birds or Garuda in the most vibrant colors imagineable. The dignitary explained that they had been found guilty of treason and were sentenced by death to air. I inquired about the nature of the palanquin, surely wheels would be more suited than men? The dignitary explained that this was two-fold.
Firstly, the wheel is sacred and using it to get around would be sacrilege and disrespectful.
Secondly, the mountain ascent would be too steep anyway.
It was indeed a very steep ascent, but in the end the sight was breathtaking.
There was not a single thing for miles but forest and a road leading off to the horizon.
At this point the prisoners in costume were dragged forward. They did not seem all to upset, rather cheerful.
They knelt before the dignitary, who had since stepped from the Palanquin. His feathered cloak trailed behind him.
"Here I see my well-loved sons."
one prisoner looked up.
"Here I see my dearest father."
The dignitary then read out the sentence. Not one prisoner lost his cheerful demeanor.
"Are there any last wishes amongst the gentlemen?"
For a nation that is xenophobic almost universally, they do treat their prisoners with utmost respect.
One prisoner asked for a drink "to ease the flying". Another asked for proper last rites. These were all granted. Then they each jumped. We never saw them again.
The Dignitary turned to me and explained why this was seen as a method of execution.
"It is a great honor to die on the area where Tlaloc himself touched the ground first. It is a more noble death than anything, even combat.
Like so, a criminal can truly be redeemed in the eyes of Iztlacatini. Through fire and earth he becomes part of Tonalamatl, through exile he is shamed. That is why these men are so cheerful."
It seems that the Tlaloc religion uses voluntary sacrifice.
We then left the mountain, and I bade the dignitary farewell.
JamesCaesar
People-Vulture
Going to have to drop this game, posting in the Argentina thread about it.
Thorvald of Lym
A Little Sketchy
[remove kebab perfect loop]
Nedim is such a bad influence.
The Viceroy's eyes never left the envoy's back. Once he was out of sight, the snarl Ranvild had been struggling to suppress flashed over his face, so reflexive that it took him a minute and a hand to his muzzle to relax the muscles. "The gall to send a White," he muttered.
"What he said, about the necrites," one of the guardsmen spoke up, eyes flitting about nervously, "T'was a bluff, aye?"
"I do not fault him for being wary, even as an official emissary," the Viceroy answered, "But that he would make such veiled threats without provocation... concerns me." Ranvild turned back to the keep, nearly leaping out of his skin as he found himself face-to-face with the Queen. The guardsmen dutifully stifled their amusement as the surprised terror quickly faded to a show of ennui as the Viceroy steadied his breath. She gave him a look of mock innocence before moving straight to the point.
"We have not received the latest dispatch from Sumpby," she stated, "Is the mission likely to conclude so soon?"
"Whether it is or is not, our interests would be ill served by hosting a necrite army, whatever its intention."
"I do not disagree." She stared off down the road, brow furrowed in thought, then turned in, and the Viceroy and his guards followed her back across the empty courtyard. "Why would Formont send a White?" she muttered, more to herself than Ranvild.
"Intimidation?" he offered. Leaning his head in close, he whispered: "More to my concern is how he knows the Crown Prince is in the field."
The Queen brushed it off with a smile. "You of all people should know that news travels fast, be it through official channels or otherwise." Ranvild opened his mouth, but she pressed a finger to his nose in one of her many playful gestures. "As he passed through Blotskig, he overheard tavern talk of the mission, and thought to use it as leverage for his case. No more." The Viceroy sighed, recognizing that the Queen was probably right. "Nonetheless," her face rapidly hardened, "That Formont feels the need to assert itself so early, and so far distant from its own lands, should give us pause." They reached the entry to the keep, and the Queen turned to the Viceroy. "I think... we should give serious consideration to investigating him."
Ranvild's jaw slid this way and that as he struggled to formulate a sentence. "No. No! That man is insane! You are fully aware of what company he kept, and they threw him out!"
"Because he was unorthodox," she countered, "And given the traditional trajectory of that profession, a radical visionary may be just what we need."
Ranvild cast sharp glances to the guards, who remained a few feet away. The Viceroy leaned in so he and the Queen were virtually muzzle-to-muzzle, eyes locked sideways with each other. "One does not. fight. ghouls. with necromancers!" he hissed through gritted teeth. "It goes against every ethic the Raevyllke has adopted! It goes against the very mission upon which your son is presently engaged! Where did Formont come from..?"
He straightened up, breathing hard, emanating a mix of outrage and deep-rooted terror. But his fear of the undead was nothing compared to the fear he felt from the Queen's look, the piercing stare she adopted when she had set upon a course of action, a gaze that carried behind it the guarantee that come hell or high water her will would prevail. It was exceedingly rare, and when she did use it, one felt as though she could very well move the heavens. It was the look to which she now subjected her Viceroy.
The Queen spoke slowly, softly, with a silky calmness that would have been hypnotic if the subject matter had not already put Ranvild on edge. "One locksmith may service an entire city. One person, with the key to the private quarters of every citizen. But the locksmith chooses not to abuse that power, chooses not to betray the community's trust." She reached forward and took Ranvild's hands in her own. "Our trust thus far has not proven itself misplaced. All I am asking is that we trust him a little further."
Ranvild stood silent, short, sharp breaths betraying an uncharacteristic moment of nervous vulnerability. After a tense pause, he bowed, half in acknowledgement of the unspoken command, half in a sign of defeat. The Queen gave his hands a light squeeze, then retired to the castle.
Last edited:
filli_noctus
Hmmn
- Joined
- Nov 22, 2010
- Messages
- 2,221
Sir Geest, the emissary of Formont, rode into the site of the king's current siege camp with several dozen Necrites trailing behind, ignoring the sentries he made straight for Marret's tent.
"My liege," he began, "the beasts refused our offer."
"Hardly unexpected," replied the king, "they fear us more than the ghouls after all. Well we shall have to send scouts outside the kingdom. If I am to overcome the ghouls resilience to infestation I need test subjects and they are so hard to come by now."
"Perhaps your majesty shouldn't have declared them anathema."
"The damage they could do the realm is to great to allow them within our borders unchained. No, the inconvenience is a small price to pay. Back to the Raevylke, I noticed you brought some minions back with you."
"Yes majesty, I was concerned for my safety on the return journey. I outlined the contingency to their regent so as instructed I have brought as many minions from their lands as I could reach as a show of good faith. They should notice the drop in attacks soon and find witnesses of our leaving their lands. I fear it will take many years for the infestation to reestablish itself, my liege."
"A pity, but no matter, we have much work do on the independent realms before worrying too much about major powers."
"My liege," he began, "the beasts refused our offer."
"Hardly unexpected," replied the king, "they fear us more than the ghouls after all. Well we shall have to send scouts outside the kingdom. If I am to overcome the ghouls resilience to infestation I need test subjects and they are so hard to come by now."
"Perhaps your majesty shouldn't have declared them anathema."
"The damage they could do the realm is to great to allow them within our borders unchained. No, the inconvenience is a small price to pay. Back to the Raevylke, I noticed you brought some minions back with you."
"Yes majesty, I was concerned for my safety on the return journey. I outlined the contingency to their regent so as instructed I have brought as many minions from their lands as I could reach as a show of good faith. They should notice the drop in attacks soon and find witnesses of our leaving their lands. I fear it will take many years for the infestation to reestablish itself, my liege."
"A pity, but no matter, we have much work do on the independent realms before worrying too much about major powers."
Thorvald of Lym
A Little Sketchy
Scrambling up the hill are three figures: a varreven swordsman, a human archer, and a tlaloc mage. They pause briefly, instinctively holding their breath as a gang of ghouls shuffle by only twelve feet away, but completely oblivious to the scouts' presence. Even though the veteran mage's concealment spell is impervious to all but a physical encounter with the creatures, their stealth remains governed by instinct.
As the main army approaches Noun, small teams of forward scouts attempt to locate the heart of the horde. Raevyllke's expedition is large enough to trap anything short of another army, but this also means it is too large to hope to catch the enemy unaware. Thus, the mage corps was broken up into search parties that could infiltrate deep into the valley without alerting the foe and prompting a mass withdrawal. The campaign was not simply to drive out the ghouls, but to annihilate them completely.
As the patrol moves on, the three men continue the ascent. As they crest the hill a large camp comes into view and the once again instinctively dive for cover. The archer drops his bow and withdraws a collapsible telescope that he uses to survey the area. "This don't look good," he mutters, "Probably at least a thousand in the camp... Pretty well-organized for ghouls."
"Think it's the Banahogg?" quizzes the swordsman.
"Prob'ly. Dunno of any other leader packs. Hold on..." He turns his attention to a group of tan tents, a little ways off from the main camp and which the ghouls seem to leave a wide berth. "There's someone else with 'em. Group of tents, earthy-colour." His compatriots follow his gaze, affirm, then return to scanning their surroundings. He watches as a black-robed figure emerges from one. "Orcs of some sort. Not your usual southerners, though, they don't seem that well-armed. More like..."
"Assassins," the mage finishes. "I heard there was an attempt on the Crown Prince last night." The soldiers spin about. "He's alright," he adds quickly, "Took the bugger out himself. They found a mark on him... can't remember the name of the group... Death's Head? Dead Hand?"
"Death's Hand," says the varrev. "Scary bunch, so I've heard. Report directly to the Lich King of Baase."
"You think they're behind the ghouls?" quizzes the observer.
"Couldn't tell you," mutters the mage, "But I bet His Lordship would love to find out..."
------------------------------
The physical wound has healed, but the aftereffects of the poison still give him discomfort. He insisted that he was well enough to fight, but his generals refused to march forth unless he promised to keep behind the front line. Out of the army's concern for their leader's health, the march to Noun progressed slower than anticipated, and by the time it arrived outside the town, the recon was complete and deployment was already being organized.
The Banahogg camp, while well-suited to secrecy, has also inadvertently trapped itself. Flanked to the northeast by the Regnabugu river, the southwest by rough foothills, an army holding the high ground would command the battlefield. The ghouls assume, not unreasonably, that the vilkers will travel via the hamlet, and that any flanking manoeuvres will be seen well in advance, giving them time to evacuate. But varreven soldiers are unlike "regular" armies; though they have no cavalry, they are themselves well-suited to long-distance running over difficult terrain, and their unique armour means that even in full kit they remain highly mobile. Knowing the location of the camp, small squads with mage accompaniment sneak along south to ambush retreaters and prevent escape through the mountain pass, the obstinate trolls having refused to intervene.
"Priority to capture the orcs, but do not hesitate to slay them if they flee," Rasmus explains to the officers. "Also be advised that if these are Death's Hand agents, they may attempt suicide rather than surrender. Any that you capture are to be kept under close supervision. Any questions?"
"Know we their magicians?" asks one man.
"Not definitively. The Banahogg may employ rudimentary incantations, but our mages should have no trouble in repelling them. We do not know the composition of specialists amongst the orcs, but the expectation is that any magic-users among them are similarly low-level. If you make contact, advise mages to scan for power signals and adjust your strategy accordingly."
"What of the river?" queries another, "Do we have a contingency plan for a flight north?"
"Kyell has posted a detachment north of the river," he nods to the black fox, "And Sang Folie has generously provided its own warriors to assist."
With no further questions, the officers return to their units.
"There it is," mutters a soldier as a lookout surveys the hamlet. Most of the huts have caved in on themselves or otherwise advertise their disrepair; bleached bones litter the perimeter, victims of the plague or recent meals no-one can tell. Standing stock-still atop a makeshift tower is a goblin so emaciated it is literally skin and bones.
"A ghoul?" asks one.
"No," frowns his comrade, "A ghoul has some concept of existence, however base. That's just a corpse strung up on magical puppet strings. You watch;" he nods to an archer notching his bow, "We shoot it down, it falls like a rag."
Which is precisely what happens. But on its way down, it pulls a string, and an instant later there is a sharp POW as a fireball shoots fifty feet into the air.
"Well so much for that!" shouts the lieutenant. "Company," he calls in a bored tone, "Draw weapons and prepare for combat."
They make contact in short order, a wave of ghouls rushing to meet them as they cross through to the other side of the town. As the pack descends on the advance group, the rest of the troop moves in from concealment, creating a solid wall from left to right. Three more waves crash against the vilkers before the monsters realize they are grossly outmatched and fall back; the troop begins a slow but steady march northward.
Meanwhile, far to the west, the furthest arm of the expedition has started to curve up, with the aim of corralling the woodland packs toward the main camp. They have stretched themselves thin in order to cover the nearly sixty miles, and tougher-than-expected clusters nearly break through. But the shepherding works, and within the hour the army is pressing in on the camp.
The ghouls stand no chance. Outnumbered four-to-one and outflanked on all but one side, they are cut down by arrows before many can even reach striking distance. The orcs presumed to make a stand in the camp, but quickly realize they have been out-manoeuvred and pack up to flee. The army gives chase, but in the ensuing chaos only a small force of some twenty men headed by Kyell manages to keep pace as orcs and ghouls flee into the woods. He knows that they will head northwest before circling south to avoid the army's furthest wing before heading for the mountains. Knowing Ola will coil the line around but doubting he will do it in time, Kyell breaks off pursuit to cut across west, hoping to intercept them.
Navigating solely by scent clues and his foggy memories of the map in Sang Folie, he leads his band along a hill ridge, slaying small packs of fleeing ghouls. After about half an hour, they spot the orcs coming their way, and hastily ready an ambush. Kyell and twelve infantrymen lead the fight as the archers try to secure a perimeter. At first the fight seems against their favour as they realize the orcs are more numerous and better-equipped than they had thought; one of them is a bona-fide mage, and while Kyell's wizards are quick to suppress him, the ensuing struggle knocks five of the vilkers out of the fight. Half the orcs then split off in a bid to escape as their brethren provide a distraction; Kyell and his remaining swordsmen struggle to overpower their enemies, but once the mage is neutralized they quickly gain the upper hand.
A few minutes later, the troop catches up, dragging the escapees into a second round. At first the assassins oblige, but then part of the group again peels off. The nimble archers give pursuit, and the runaways are soon shot down. By the time they return to the general, the other orcs are either dead or disarmed. As Kyell and the mages see to the wounded, the soldiers collect their captives, seven in all. After ensuring the corpses won't be of use to any remnant ghouls, the troop secures its hostages and makes its trek back to the front line.
The group weaves its way through the field of corpses, soldiers plodding through the devastation, slashing and stabbing the ghouls to make sure they stay dead. The general gives a sharp salute as he approaches Rasmus, who breaks away from his conversation with a tlaloc mage. "Your Lordship will be pleased to learn foreign agents did not escape." He waves his arm toward the prisoners.
Rasmus peers at the captive orcs with surprise, evidently expecting fewer. "Excellent work," he states. "I will arrange for an escort back to the capital while we finish the sweep." Kyell signals to the escort, which promptly herds the orcs off for processing. He turns back to the Crown Prince and the mage. The tlaloc is gingerly holding some sort of artifact that he does not recognize. "It was recovered from the ghoulish chief Bani," he explains. "Coaxoch informs me it may be of arcane qualities."
"I do not recognize the inscription," says the mage, "But it bears vague resemblance to writing dating back to before the Divine War." He passes it to the general; it looks like an obsidian disc, its surface scratched and scuffed, its edges well-worn. There is a small hole at the top, recently-cut, through which runs a small length of twine. The writing remains legible, but the seemingly-runic symbols are beyond his knowledge. Kyell gingerly holds it between thumb and forefinger; he blinks, feeling a strange tingle run up his arm.
"Is it imbued?" he asks, quickly passing it back.
"You felt it too?"
The mage's intonation catches Kyell's attention. Sharing a quick glance with the Crown Prince, he replies: "But you do not?"
The tlaloc shakes his head. "Fascinating..." He stares at the disc for a moment. "I cannot say how Bani came about this, or what purpose it might have served the ghouls, if any... The magic we encountered was certainly not noteworthy."
"Well," Rasmus starts, "When this campaign has concluded and we return to the capital, we shall give this proper study. Until then, see that it remains safe." Coaxoch gives a short bow, placing the amulet into his satchel. "Now," he turns to Kyell, "Let us see to cleaning up the rest of this mess."
Continue to hunt for ghouls in the provinces marked light red (and see whether the locals would like to join glorious Raevyllke, what for all we helped 'em);
Survey the regions in yellow for settlements, and possible future settlement. (*wonk*
)
As the main army approaches Noun, small teams of forward scouts attempt to locate the heart of the horde. Raevyllke's expedition is large enough to trap anything short of another army, but this also means it is too large to hope to catch the enemy unaware. Thus, the mage corps was broken up into search parties that could infiltrate deep into the valley without alerting the foe and prompting a mass withdrawal. The campaign was not simply to drive out the ghouls, but to annihilate them completely.
As the patrol moves on, the three men continue the ascent. As they crest the hill a large camp comes into view and the once again instinctively dive for cover. The archer drops his bow and withdraws a collapsible telescope that he uses to survey the area. "This don't look good," he mutters, "Probably at least a thousand in the camp... Pretty well-organized for ghouls."
"Think it's the Banahogg?" quizzes the swordsman.
"Prob'ly. Dunno of any other leader packs. Hold on..." He turns his attention to a group of tan tents, a little ways off from the main camp and which the ghouls seem to leave a wide berth. "There's someone else with 'em. Group of tents, earthy-colour." His compatriots follow his gaze, affirm, then return to scanning their surroundings. He watches as a black-robed figure emerges from one. "Orcs of some sort. Not your usual southerners, though, they don't seem that well-armed. More like..."
"Assassins," the mage finishes. "I heard there was an attempt on the Crown Prince last night." The soldiers spin about. "He's alright," he adds quickly, "Took the bugger out himself. They found a mark on him... can't remember the name of the group... Death's Head? Dead Hand?"
"Death's Hand," says the varrev. "Scary bunch, so I've heard. Report directly to the Lich King of Baase."
"You think they're behind the ghouls?" quizzes the observer.
"Couldn't tell you," mutters the mage, "But I bet His Lordship would love to find out..."
------------------------------
The physical wound has healed, but the aftereffects of the poison still give him discomfort. He insisted that he was well enough to fight, but his generals refused to march forth unless he promised to keep behind the front line. Out of the army's concern for their leader's health, the march to Noun progressed slower than anticipated, and by the time it arrived outside the town, the recon was complete and deployment was already being organized.
The Banahogg camp, while well-suited to secrecy, has also inadvertently trapped itself. Flanked to the northeast by the Regnabugu river, the southwest by rough foothills, an army holding the high ground would command the battlefield. The ghouls assume, not unreasonably, that the vilkers will travel via the hamlet, and that any flanking manoeuvres will be seen well in advance, giving them time to evacuate. But varreven soldiers are unlike "regular" armies; though they have no cavalry, they are themselves well-suited to long-distance running over difficult terrain, and their unique armour means that even in full kit they remain highly mobile. Knowing the location of the camp, small squads with mage accompaniment sneak along south to ambush retreaters and prevent escape through the mountain pass, the obstinate trolls having refused to intervene.
"Priority to capture the orcs, but do not hesitate to slay them if they flee," Rasmus explains to the officers. "Also be advised that if these are Death's Hand agents, they may attempt suicide rather than surrender. Any that you capture are to be kept under close supervision. Any questions?"
"Know we their magicians?" asks one man.
"Not definitively. The Banahogg may employ rudimentary incantations, but our mages should have no trouble in repelling them. We do not know the composition of specialists amongst the orcs, but the expectation is that any magic-users among them are similarly low-level. If you make contact, advise mages to scan for power signals and adjust your strategy accordingly."
"What of the river?" queries another, "Do we have a contingency plan for a flight north?"
"Kyell has posted a detachment north of the river," he nods to the black fox, "And Sang Folie has generously provided its own warriors to assist."
With no further questions, the officers return to their units.
"There it is," mutters a soldier as a lookout surveys the hamlet. Most of the huts have caved in on themselves or otherwise advertise their disrepair; bleached bones litter the perimeter, victims of the plague or recent meals no-one can tell. Standing stock-still atop a makeshift tower is a goblin so emaciated it is literally skin and bones.
"A ghoul?" asks one.
"No," frowns his comrade, "A ghoul has some concept of existence, however base. That's just a corpse strung up on magical puppet strings. You watch;" he nods to an archer notching his bow, "We shoot it down, it falls like a rag."
Which is precisely what happens. But on its way down, it pulls a string, and an instant later there is a sharp POW as a fireball shoots fifty feet into the air.
"Well so much for that!" shouts the lieutenant. "Company," he calls in a bored tone, "Draw weapons and prepare for combat."
They make contact in short order, a wave of ghouls rushing to meet them as they cross through to the other side of the town. As the pack descends on the advance group, the rest of the troop moves in from concealment, creating a solid wall from left to right. Three more waves crash against the vilkers before the monsters realize they are grossly outmatched and fall back; the troop begins a slow but steady march northward.
Meanwhile, far to the west, the furthest arm of the expedition has started to curve up, with the aim of corralling the woodland packs toward the main camp. They have stretched themselves thin in order to cover the nearly sixty miles, and tougher-than-expected clusters nearly break through. But the shepherding works, and within the hour the army is pressing in on the camp.
The ghouls stand no chance. Outnumbered four-to-one and outflanked on all but one side, they are cut down by arrows before many can even reach striking distance. The orcs presumed to make a stand in the camp, but quickly realize they have been out-manoeuvred and pack up to flee. The army gives chase, but in the ensuing chaos only a small force of some twenty men headed by Kyell manages to keep pace as orcs and ghouls flee into the woods. He knows that they will head northwest before circling south to avoid the army's furthest wing before heading for the mountains. Knowing Ola will coil the line around but doubting he will do it in time, Kyell breaks off pursuit to cut across west, hoping to intercept them.
Navigating solely by scent clues and his foggy memories of the map in Sang Folie, he leads his band along a hill ridge, slaying small packs of fleeing ghouls. After about half an hour, they spot the orcs coming their way, and hastily ready an ambush. Kyell and twelve infantrymen lead the fight as the archers try to secure a perimeter. At first the fight seems against their favour as they realize the orcs are more numerous and better-equipped than they had thought; one of them is a bona-fide mage, and while Kyell's wizards are quick to suppress him, the ensuing struggle knocks five of the vilkers out of the fight. Half the orcs then split off in a bid to escape as their brethren provide a distraction; Kyell and his remaining swordsmen struggle to overpower their enemies, but once the mage is neutralized they quickly gain the upper hand.
A few minutes later, the troop catches up, dragging the escapees into a second round. At first the assassins oblige, but then part of the group again peels off. The nimble archers give pursuit, and the runaways are soon shot down. By the time they return to the general, the other orcs are either dead or disarmed. As Kyell and the mages see to the wounded, the soldiers collect their captives, seven in all. After ensuring the corpses won't be of use to any remnant ghouls, the troop secures its hostages and makes its trek back to the front line.
The group weaves its way through the field of corpses, soldiers plodding through the devastation, slashing and stabbing the ghouls to make sure they stay dead. The general gives a sharp salute as he approaches Rasmus, who breaks away from his conversation with a tlaloc mage. "Your Lordship will be pleased to learn foreign agents did not escape." He waves his arm toward the prisoners.
Rasmus peers at the captive orcs with surprise, evidently expecting fewer. "Excellent work," he states. "I will arrange for an escort back to the capital while we finish the sweep." Kyell signals to the escort, which promptly herds the orcs off for processing. He turns back to the Crown Prince and the mage. The tlaloc is gingerly holding some sort of artifact that he does not recognize. "It was recovered from the ghoulish chief Bani," he explains. "Coaxoch informs me it may be of arcane qualities."
"I do not recognize the inscription," says the mage, "But it bears vague resemblance to writing dating back to before the Divine War." He passes it to the general; it looks like an obsidian disc, its surface scratched and scuffed, its edges well-worn. There is a small hole at the top, recently-cut, through which runs a small length of twine. The writing remains legible, but the seemingly-runic symbols are beyond his knowledge. Kyell gingerly holds it between thumb and forefinger; he blinks, feeling a strange tingle run up his arm.
"Is it imbued?" he asks, quickly passing it back.
"You felt it too?"
The mage's intonation catches Kyell's attention. Sharing a quick glance with the Crown Prince, he replies: "But you do not?"
The tlaloc shakes his head. "Fascinating..." He stares at the disc for a moment. "I cannot say how Bani came about this, or what purpose it might have served the ghouls, if any... The magic we encountered was certainly not noteworthy."
"Well," Rasmus starts, "When this campaign has concluded and we return to the capital, we shall give this proper study. Until then, see that it remains safe." Coaxoch gives a short bow, placing the amulet into his satchel. "Now," he turns to Kyell, "Let us see to cleaning up the rest of this mess."
Continue to hunt for ghouls in the provinces marked light red (and see whether the locals would like to join glorious Raevyllke, what for all we helped 'em);
Survey the regions in yellow for settlements, and possible future settlement. (*wonk*
)
Last edited:
Terran Empress
Hornet
oh crap, can we push the lock back a couple hours, ive been fairly busy, maybe Saturday? plz
Ailedhoo
wonderer
- Joined
- Mar 19, 2012
- Messages
- 7,811
I wish to apologise: a occurrence is to occur that means I may not be able to release the update at noon; as such I will set the update for Saturday, between 17:00 to 20:00 UK time at the latest.
Basically there is a special South American festival occurring in Machynlleth.
Basically there is a special South American festival occurring in Machynlleth.
