Homecomings (Chap III) — Legacy Forums

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#81

"Sounds good - we should strike while their camp is in the greatest disorder. "

"Any particular plans for the Archers? I can make someone unseen one more time if they wanted to get up close to them."

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#82

"Do it," Vee said. From what he knew of the spell, it would fail as soon as he broke it's veil by attacking someone. But being invisible would let him get close enough that the archers would be unable to use their main advantage; a ranged attack. "I will take out the archers, you guys just dont dawdle, once they are down I will see what I can do with this old girl," he said patting the butt of his crossbow.

(OOC: After made Invisible Vee will make for the archer's position quickly as caution allows. Once there he will attempt a sneak attack on the lead archer, likely a backstab or coupe-d'grace killing attack.)

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#83

"K, I'll place it on you just before you leave. Lets do this." Kadarin brought the details of his encantation to mind.

"Dujek - are you ready?"

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#84

Satisfied that the necromancer's own plans were ready, Kadarin once again made Vee fade away like a ghost.
"Give 'em hell!"

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#85

His stealthy approach unnoticed, Vee quickly reached the fortress' crumbling watchtower. The brigands' jury-rigged ladder gave him a few moments unease, as it bent and shifted beneath his weight, but he made it to the top without drawing the men's attention.

The brigands' sloth was worse than he had realized: Two of the "sentries" were engrossed in a game of knucklebones, while the third was clumsily groping the wench that had brought their breakfast. Their bows lay unheeded to one side, while several emptied bottles of cheap grappa lay nearby.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#86

Vee smiled to himself, the wench wasnt a sight to see, but after enough grappa ugly washes away and a good snogging is a good snogging. This invisible thing was certainly useful and at times, quite entertaining. Dagger's drawn, Vee picked his mark. The snogger would likely be the slowest to react, so he picked the larger of the two men tossing dice. Before he could strike through, he wanted a distraction. The rogue eyes the bottles of grappa and using his toe, nudged one until it fell off the edge of the platform. The bottle smashed to pieces when it hit the ground.

The 'sentry' never saw the face of the man who killed him, only a flash of steel as the dagger split him from ear to ear, spewing blood all over himself and his dicing companion. Vee raised his crossbow with one hand, the weapon pointed point blank at the dead gambler's companion. He pulled the trigger.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#87

"He's in! Have at them!" cried the lance commander, as he spurred his mount onto the rough trail to the fort. The cavalry surged forward, reaching the barricaded entrance in moments.

At the bandits' jury-rigged "gate", Sergeant Greydahl and one of the "double riders" leapt from their saddles. Kicking, slashing and cursing, the veterans smashed down part of the barricade, while their lance-armed allies waited impatiently. Hauling at the sharpened wooden stakes meant to prevent horses from charging into the barrier, the double-rider staggered as two crossbow bolts pierced him, but he stayed at his task.

Despite the resistance, the Nimzian riders were in! Bandits and hangers-on fled helter-skelter, seeking weapons or refuge as the vengeful sons of Nimz swept through their camp like a flash flood. Pockets of resistance formed behind plundered furniture or collapsing tents, but the mercenaries had been taken by surprise.

Meanwhile, in the watchtower, Vee gutted one bandit as the surprised reaver reached for his weapon, but the last of the "sentries" managed to grab a rusty mace, parrying Vee's attack with panicked energy. Vee was confident the half-dressed man's unskilled defense wouldn't last long.

That's when the woman drew a dirk from among her small-clothes and joined the fight.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#88

(OOC: After a discussion in chat…)

His features spattered with the brigands’ blood, Vee radiated menace. Drawing back Red Hatchet’s gore-encrusted weapon, he leveled his dagger at the slattern and her half-dressed “paramour”. “I could kill you both, but I’ve no interest in hurting a lady. Surrender, or your lives will be forfeit!”

The half-dressed “sentry” lowered his weapon, asking “Our lives will be spared?” but the woman’s eyes narrowed with thought as she tried to discern whether the strange assassin’s offer could be trusted.

“Don’t trust him, ducky,” she whispered to her lover.

Below them, horsemen pounded up the trail to the ruined fortress. Glancing down, Vee’s voice grew lower and, if possible, even more ominous. “Your time’s almost up. Drop your weapons; you won’t get another chance.”

His voice cracking along with his nerve, the mercenary spoke up. “On… Only if you let Evidie go!”

“I don’t care to see lasses hanged; I’d rather see her alive than dead with the others,” responded the adventurer, leading his foe to hand over his battered mace.

Less trusting of a stranger’s word, Evidie swiftly swung over the ruined outer parapet and clambered down the fort’s rough masonry.

Within the courtyard below, chaos reigned.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#89

"Okay, thats our queue boys. Delsordo - you and you two," Kadarin pointed to two of the Orcs, "Stay close to myself and Mouse. Czolba - you move ahead with the rest of you. Feel free to handle the bandits as you see fit. Holler if you need help."

This would be dangerous, but what the heck. Time to move.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#90

Vee shook the vial of magnesium powder out of his vest pocket and dabbed some on the end of his finger. With a deft motion, thinking of Dujek's gut monster gestures, he smeared some of the powder on the surrendered brigand's forehead. He looked the man in the eyes. "You'll forgive me if I dont trust you, the sigil I just put on your head will explode if you try to pick up a weapon and attack anyone until I personally remove it." Vee cocked his crossbow and dropped a fresh bolt in after putting the vial back into his vest. "I wouldn't suggest trying to rub it off either. If you break any of the lines, the whole thing goes pop, your head too. Sit down and be a good boy and everybody has a nice day."

Vee raised the crossbow and assessed the situation on the ground.

(OOC - bluff check on the 'magic mark'. He doesnt trust the mercenary long enough to walk him off of the tower, or to tie him up while his friends are fighting below. He is going to look for a target below, but will keep checking on the mercenary, a cold grin on his face. - if the merc asks, Vee responds with exploding heads make for an interesting sight and he would hate to miss it.)

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#91

Dujek joined in the charge on the doors, though his horse tried to buck him at every turn. Dismounting he managed to spook the beast again, and it charged back out of the gate.

"We need to find him, don't we. And what notes he has as well, what do you think Koschei?"

Yes, that's what we need. Kill the dabbler, take his works, fire to cleanse the taint and cast shadows, through which we'll flee. Yes, this is well.

Grinning, sickly for his disfigurement made emotion hard, Dujek ducked into the doorway, following Koschei and it's weird knowledge into the depths of the castle, hunting down his fellow necromancer while the battle raged in the courtyard.

OOC: Opps... Thought we'd gotten through the gate already... *Sheepish grin*

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#92

As Vee drew the ominous sigil on the timorous brigand's forehead, fear and scepticism battled on the man's features. He doubted the stranger's powers, but the man's accustomed cowardice held the upper hand for the moment.

Below the tower, the privileged cavalrymen of Nimz tasted the first real resistance to their assault. Brigands that had flown in panic began to join ranks with the handful of veteran sellswords that had kept their heads. As Vee watched, one of the cavalryment was dragged off his horse, joining bloodstained bandit corpses in the cold fraternity of the dead. A mount crashed into one of the courtyard's drooping tents, crying in pain as crossbow bolts tore into it.

The city men held the upper hand, but this would be no bloodless victory. Death watched this battle, reaching out to claim the warriors with random cruelty.

Meanwhile, Dujek, Kadarin, and the others reached the keep's massive front doors. A badly-made barrier of green wood, it had clearly been replaced recently. Rough-hewn planks hung from new hinges, and the whole thing had been painted with symbols of warding and protection, the sort of folk magic that children in the foothills of the Monoliths trusted to keep evil at bay. Dujek sneered at such feeble charms, good for little more than discouraging bog-sprites to sup elsewhere.

The door's lock was not so feeble, unfortunately.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#93

Vee kicked the bows off of the tower top, and the ladder as well, there was no safe way down off of the tower now. He looked at the mercenary, "Touch it and you'll be feeding the crows. I'll come back for you later." Leaving the man unarmed, Vee unslung his whip and struck. The leather thong wrapped around one of the tower's exposed wooden supports. He hopped off of the platform and swung in a fast arc. Like the pendulum in a clock he swung quickly down and as he came close to the ground he flicked the whip, loosening the end.

The rogue rolled to his feet, whip in one hand and his dagger in the other. The rogue bore down on one of the veteran mercenaries, a bulldog of a man with a battered sword and a equally battered face. Vee cracked the whip towards the man, something that even most hardened soldiers will flinch away from, his swing was poor but the mercenary swung wildly to protect himself. The end result, the whip snared his sword by the quillions, and the rogue jerked the weapon from the man's gauntleted grasp. Seeing one of the their leaders disarmed, three of the greener sellswords panicked and broke ranks!

"Forward the lances!" Vee shouted, slinging the sword free of the whip. Moruz would be proud if he could have seen them!

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#94

Kadarin noted the door only briefly before again calling forth his magics. "Moroth, step close - I grant you the powers of a great Chieftan!" and with that, his magic enlarged the orc to nearly twice as tall (+80%!).

"Crush that door! Create a shower of splinters!"

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#95

With a series of powerful kicks, the huge orc battered open the portal to expose the keep's great hall. Gloomy light sifted in from cracks in the masonry, revealing trestle tables laden with half-eaten food, a dozen unkempt cots, and heaps of debris cluttering the area. The garish banner of the treacherous would-be warlord Haavik virtually glowed on the hall's back wall, flanked by a pair of decrepit doors.

From behind the hall's massive head table, a partially armored man approached, his half-buckled breastplate emblazoned with glyphs of dark necromantic portent. In one hand, the approaching figure held a grim-looking mace, while the other clutched an unwholesome symbol of the insectoid daemon-god Scarnach, patron of dark rebirth. His handsome face wore an expression of sinister delight. "When they told me to hold the fort, I thought it was just an expression!"

On the left, eight anmated corpses shuffled down a staircase to join their dark priest, hundreds of black insects scuttling over their pallid flesh. The unclad bodies were those of women, once beautiful, but now hideous in undeath.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#96

Chaos in the Courtyard
The lances were largely gone as cavalrymen rampaged through the encampment, drawing their curved swords to ride down anyone too slow to find cover. Sow-like orc females and camp followers joined mercenary scum in death as the slashing blades paid the notorious band back for their treacheries.

The fighting in the courtyard grew more intense, as the Nimzian troops crushed one pocket of resistance. Heartened as Vee easily disarmed one of their chief foes, they drove forward, their dismayed enemies fleeing and dying. Crossbow bolts whistled through the air as some of the bandits took aim at onrushing horsemen, only to face their vengeful steel moments later.

These brigands were nothing like the disciplined killers that had fought under War Leader Haavik's banner. Most were nothing more than bandits posing under borrowed "glories". Most, but not all: Here and there, groups of brigands survived, forming ranks with bloodthirsty mercenaries that had once served under their perfidious war leader. These men were not like the others: They were veterans of a hard school, ruthless killing machines afraid of nothing.

Watching their allies bleeding away, one group of brigands rushed at the Nimzian horsemen circling them. Their infamous sergeant was instantly recognizable, a noseless, scarred figure with one eye: "Bearbaiter". This arrogant killer had once "dueled" a stolen circus bear in Nimz's Square of Towers; only luck had preserved his life. His ravaged nose replaced with a nose of painted tin, Bearbaiter was nearly as hideous as he was bloodthirsty. His elven-made armor and swift blade turned the lance of one charging lancer as he led his ragtag force forward.

In seconds, two more riders were unhorsed, desperately fighting to keep the brigands from finishing them off.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#97

In the hall, the dark priest gestured with his nauseating bronze symbol as he uttered a buzzing eldritch phrase. Silence descended upon the adventurers like a blanket.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#98

Ducking behind the shattered remnants of the door Dujek reached into his bag, drawing out two flasks of alchohol. Popping the caps off of them the bagan stuffing wads of cloth down the necks.

"Get a branch from the fire. NOW."

OOC: Preparing 2 molotovs for next round (and round after...) when Koschei gets back with a piece of fire...

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#99

Blood filled the air, mixed with shouts and the clang and clank of steel. Vee snared the horse of one of the fallen lancers, catching the animals by the reins. He patted it on the neck as best he could to calm the animal. It always sounded easy in the epics when the warrior or knight mounted his dashing steed. Vee grabbed a handful or mane and the horn of the saddle and jerked himself up onto the animal. It wasnt Nimzian bloodstock, but it was fair enough. He dug his heels into the beast's ribs and turned it back towards the fray.

Bearbaiter had rallied some of the mercenaries, and in turn had managed to drop two of the Lancers, not good for the Sons of Nimz, but Vee wasnt about to let a sorry piece of offal like bearbaiter break his allies. 'Let's put these louts running, fight only those foolish enough to stand their ground!' Vee shouted as he crossed the courtyard. He unslung his whip and cracked it once for effect over the heads of the mercenaries before snapping it at Bearbaiter. (roll roll) The end of the weapon snared the warrior beautifully, denying him even a token chance to hack at the length of braided leather. Vee hauled, but Bearbaiter pulled the harder and the rogue lost his grip on the handle. He swore as the whip came free.

"Mercenary slime! Give that back!" Vee spurred the horse to a hard lunge directly into the Bearbaiter and his ragtag warriors. Vee readied his battered axe...

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#100

Kadarin cursed, though unheard by all, thanks to the blanket of silence that enveloped him and his companions. Unable to direct them, he had to make a quick decision. Foward or back? Though the priest's mace could break him in half, Kadarin ran towards the dark priest, but tried to put the priest between him and the undead. A well placed web spell would make it difficult for the cleric to cast or fight. He held his staff ready, though it seemed a feeble implement.

Czolba looked towards the dark priest and the shuffling corpses. Run? he thought for a moment, Not with a loaded crossbow, and not in front of these green-skinned freaks! Decision made, he took a bead on the dark priest and fired.

Mouse stuck close to Kadarin, drawing a small dagger he had found on one of the bodies at the Monestary, following him in what seemed an ill-considered move.

Moroth, full of vigour and enjoying the power his greatly increased form held, had some of his ardour cooled by the chiling figure before him. The preist, however, had wasted time with prayer to his dark godling, and the sudden silence meant little to the orc. Weapon in hand, he released a silent roar and charged headlong towards the priest.

Delsordo ran Kadarin, wondering if the idiot mage would get him killed this time, or worse, Mouse. The little one had bonded well with the scarred warrior and their fireside 'chats' had been a thing to see. He would defend the little one to the death, and if that meant breaking the armored cleric's back, so be it.

And not to be outdone by a scrawny human, the remaining orcs charged headlong into battle, the press of numbers forcing them towards the shambling dead.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#101

The Hall of Havoc
Within the keep, the adventurers and their foes clashed in battle as silent as it was ferocious. Czolba's crossbow bolt sparked off the evil priest's breastplate just as toothless Moroth slammed into the dark acolyte, his huge axe carving a channel in the man's spaulder. Although his half-strapped armor was rent by the mighty blow, the evil man seemed unharmed: His dark gods favored him indeed!

A hideous glee filling his features, the cleric tried to close with Kadarin, hoping to pen the mage within his magical silence, but Delsordo anticipated the move: He tackled the depraved priest, seeking to grapple. Staggering backward, the champion of Scarnach almost evaded his foe's grasp, but Delsordo's skills served him well: Seizing the man's armored leg, he twisted and brought the priest down.

A few feet away, orcish battle fury crashed into the man's undead thralls. Unhindered by chivalry or kindness, the two orcs rained blows onto their foes. Any living force would have fallen back before the humanoids' axes, but this time, they faced foes without fear or caution. Pallid, feminine arms driven by unclean magic tore into the orcs with inhuman strength. The two orcs were overcome in seconds, smashed by their hideously vacant-eyed foes.

Winning clear of the silence, Kadarin uttered the incantation of his web spell. The undead things that had so horribly rent their orcish allies were hopelessly ensnared, but struggled to free themselves with the relentless patience of the dead. The web would not hold them forever.

In the doorway, Dujek crouched to prepare his firebombs. His reactions sharpened by years of evading peasant mobs, he ducked just in time to see a crossbow bolt from the courtyard silently glance off the stone where his head had been. A trio of camp followers in the courtyard had heavy crossbows, and were taking potshots at the party! Turning to warn Czolba of the menace, he realized that a massive quarrel had soundlessly struck the mercenary's shoulder. Pale with pain, Czolba staggered a few steps, then collapsed unconscious upon the stairs. Bright red stained his battered surcoat, spreading rapidly from the tiny wound.

The Captain's Fall
Across the courtyard, a group of brigands held firm, sheltered between a large rack of polearms and an upturned, shattered wagon. With sibilant whispers, their grease-spattered leader pointed out targets for a pair of archers, each armed with selfbows. Three more bandits stood before them, two fending off the cavalrymen with rusty pikes while the other held a blood-encrusted bill-guisarme aloft.

Grabbing a fallen lance as his nimble steed wove across the courtyard's ruins, Lance Commander Salleer gathered his riders to crush the defiant bandits once and for all. "For Nimz! For Nimz!" his voice rang out, as he spurred his steed.

Perhaps he should not have drawn such attention to himself. The cunning mercenary called "Quiet Kalque" whispered, and arrows peppered the commander's horse, dropping it beneath him. His men flinched away from the pike-armed bandits, turning off to the side as the brigands jeered.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#102

The Lethal Touch
In the hall’s dim recesses, none had seen the dark paste smeared across the gadlings of the dark acolyte’s gauntlets. Struggling and squirming in Delsordo’s grasp, his wild swing barely scratched the wily grappler.

It was enough. Within seconds, the mercenary warrior felt his muscles refusing his command. Convulsions swept through Delsordo as the poison-armed priest pulled free. “Feel the benediction of Scarnach, you fool!” laughed the vile man.

(OOC: The priest had a natural 20, then Delsordo boofed his save. He needs someone with healing skill to aid him ASAP.)

From the Ashes
“Let him come!” cried Bearbaiter to his men. “Come to me and die, worm of Nimz!” The mercenary’s hideous visage twisted in half a smile as the adventurer thundered toward him.

Passing the bandits, Vee’s steed brought him face to scarred face with the disfigured mercenary. Dodging under the man’s flickering blade with gods-blessed agility, the adventurer’s axe tore into the lighter mail defending the villain’s armpit. A line of dark blood oozed from the wound. With lightning speed, the two nimble foes struck, dodged, and parried, a dance of lethal blades.

Behind their duel, something moved within the courtyard’s burning debris. Rising from his fallen mount, Commander Salleer drew his sabre. “You would have bandits mock you? By the Peregrine Tower, follow Vee!” Breaking into a charge, the nobleman’s voice rose again, “Now! Crush them! For Nimz!”

The riders that had turned aside from the guarding pikes of Quiet Kalque’s men converged on Bearbaiter’s less organized force. A vengeful lust filling their eyes, the sons of Nimz rode down the fools that had sneered at them. As others desperately dodged, bandits fell beneath their churning hooves and slashing sabres.

Across the courtyard, Quiet Kalque glared at his allies’ ruin with his dark, calculating eyes. His once-fine robe was a ruin of filth and grease, making its heraldic decoration almost invisible, but the exiled nobleman’s abilities were not so decayed as his attire.

“Advance on them,” he hissed to his debased retinue, gesturing with his longsword as they moved forward.

Arrows tore into the riders as the brigands closed on them, but the Nimzian militia rode undaunted. Thrusting pikes clashed against sabres as the silent mercenary led his men against the Nimzian flank.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#103

Kadarin saw Delsordo's fall and was filled with dispair and fear. Again he would trust the vaguries of fate, for he drew out his wand of Chaos and unleashed it upon the cleric, hoping something useful would happen. The last of its energies blasted out and....

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#104

... a massive beast shimmered into existence within the shadowy hall, angrily snorting as its short legs pawed the ground. A bizzare, porcine monstrosity with mud-encrusted, almost hairless grey hide and massive tusks jutting from its snout, it seemed filled with hostility at whatever disturbed it. Somehow Kadarin sensed that the ire in the clumsy beast's piggish eyes was directed toward his foes: The dark priest and his undead allies.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#105

To his shock, Kadarin realized the Wand of Chaos had not withered or crumbled, as was common among such implements once their powers had been drained. Instead, it had transformed, now resembling a bronze hand mirror! Unfamiliar letters wound across the mirror's surface, oddly-shaped glyphs in archaic script.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#106

Grabbing the burning brand from the returned Koschei, Dujek grinned, a sight made all the more abhorring by his slack jaw and misshapened skull. Lighting the two bottles, he charged, angling his approach so that he'd have no friends between him and the priest. Closing to about two body lengths he threw the first firebomb.

OOC: Close to 10ft and throw one of the two bottles. Burn, baby burn.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#107

Pointing towards the Dark Cleric, Kadarin said one word - "Kill..."

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#108

The battle was turning poor, and there was entirely too much Nimzian blood already spilled, but Vee felt a moment of surprise. It was no wonder, these lancers were light cavalry, their mounts unarmored. The soldiers were loosing their advantage facing the mercenaries from standing horseback. Already a number of the animals had been cut down as their riders hacked and slashed, the Captain's mount was down, and Vee imagined Greydahl to be a footman at heart, toe to toe until the bloody end.

heaving with the axe, Vee swung at Bearbaiter and chopped deep into the mercenary's armored shoulder, the axe coming away spattered with blood and grime. The rogue kicked his horse, turning the animal away from the brigands and circling out of close combat, he whistled as he moved away. Another band of mercenaries was moving to flank them, the riders needed to pull out and regroup, they needed to be moving, hitting and dividing the mercenaries so that the double-riders could take them apart in ones and twos instead of letting them clump together and form ranks.

"Regroup! regroup!" Vee shouted.

(OOC ~ Mounted men move out of standing combat and form up on Vee, double riders fall back into defensive position. Prepare to mount organized attack after survey of next combat round/s)

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#109

With the clumsy momentum of a runaway wagon, the supernatural pig lumbered forward, its baleful gaze fixed on the acolyte of fell Scarnach. The dark priest desperately tried to scramble clear, but he wasn't nimble enough. The necrophagic beast's tusks savagely tore at him while he beat at it ineffectually with his mace.

Unnerving grunts of porcine wrath echoed from the chamber's stone walls.

(more to come...)

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#110

Taken aback by his comrades' swift fall at the hands of the undead, Moroth paused briefly in indecision. Suddenly, a sinister figure dashed by him: The necromancer Dujek, flasks of flaming death clutched in each pale hand!

With a careful sidearm throw, the misshapen mage hurled a flask at the dark priest's chest, only to curse viciously as the thrice-d**ned acolyte stumbled sideways at just the wrong time! Dujek's missile shattered ineffectually behind its target as the man's accursed luck spared him once more.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#111

Death behind, and death in front. Kadarin be damned, but no retreat was open. Ah well, when in doubt... The huge orc strode foward to take a swing at the now distracted Cleric.

"Aaaaaargh!!!!"

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#112

Kicking aside the remains of a rotted bench, Moroth descended like a wrathful god upon the servant of Scarnach. The wicked man’s eyes opened wide as the huge orc’s vengeful axe whistled down one last time.

Blood pooled around the fallen priest as his patron’s beloved insects swiftly descended to collect their due.

Quiet as his namesake, Mouse ran to aid Delsordo, the mercenary that had become a friend. The grappler was twitching and thrashing, blood running freely from his nose as the slightly-built youth tried to restrain his rebellious body. Red welts ran across Delsordo’s cheek, poisoned gift of the murderous priest’s barbed gauntlet.

Ensnared by Kadarin’s magical web, the undead pawns of the priest struggled to escape their entanglement. Inch, by inch, their untiring power slowly tore at the strands of their prison.

Bearbaiter’s Gambit
Bearbaiter didn’t know what to do. One moment, he had a solid force around him, then, moments later, his men were torn to bloody shreds by slashing blades and cruel hooves. The only intact force left was Quiet Kalque’s: The thought of that supercilious worm’s criticism tore at Bearbaiter’s guts like a brand. He couldn’t let that noble-born vermin claim he’d “saved” Bearbaiter’s men!

“At them!” he urged the battered handful of his remaining followers. “Cut them down before they break loose!” He lunged at the leather-clad rogue that had challenged him, but the man evaded his strike once again. Curse the man’s speed!

His surviving men, desperation in their eyes, struck out viciously. Two more riders were wounded and one fell before their horses carried them to safety. Barely conscious, the fallen rider lay at the mercy of the vicious mercenaries.

Barreling forward on foot as the riders retreated, Sergeant Greydahl pitched into the fight. “Get back, you filth!” shouted the veteran as he brandished a fallen lance. Beside him, young Rhunwald leapt forward, his lance glancing off an overzealous bandit’s helm.

From behind a half-collapsed tent, four more bandits rushed to regroup with Quiet Kalque’s band, pursued by the two double riders. One turned to heave a javelin, scoring a solid hit on the hitherto unwounded rider. It was the last mistake the bandit ever made, as the man’s horse smashed him down as easily as if he’d been made of straw. One of his companions, slower than the others, looked fearfully behind at his pursuers… and found himself shorter by a head.

"For Nimz!" shouted the double riders triumphantly!

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#113

With the demise of the foul cleric, Kadarin turned his attention to the struggling undead. "Blessed Swine, destroy!" said Kadarin, pointing to the forms. He moved over to Mouse to see what could be done and to help drag the warrior away from the vile horde.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#114

Salleer, unmounted, and three of the other riders rallied around the uncanny rogue, Vee guagued the field and it was starting to look grim. Bearbaiter's band was looking near broken and ragged, but a second band of mercenaries was banding up near a dour faced warrior in tattered finery. Vee looked to the lancers, they were solid and dependable men and would be even moreso after this battle. Discipline and innovation were Nimzian ideals, and even if he fell and Salleer fell and Greydahl fell he didn't think the other lancers or double-riders would retreat or surrender. There was a sense of pride in hailing from the clockwork city, defending her walls and her treasures.

Vee unslung his crossbow slamming the lever home and loading the weapon. The silent leader directed his men, shouting. They were mercenaries, they followed out of fear, or promise of loot. Without their leaders... the one he had disarmed had already ran, breaking the resolve of a good number of other would be fighters. He sighted down the weapon, his finger firm on the release, he pulled.

(Chat with Wulf, roll roll)

The bolt whizzed through the air and through the open face of Kalque's helmet. The brigand leader was shouting one moment and silenced the next as the iron head of the bolt tore through the soft flesh of his cheek. The bolt came to a stop against the back of his skull, ending the life of the cleric-warrior. The man staggered and fell, his last thoughts not of the battle in the plaza, or the arrogant and scruffy looking vagabond that lead the lancers, but of his scattered bastard children, and the debts he still owed to their mothers, and the book he had borrowed with every intention of returning. Grignard wouldn't get his copy of Hymns of Battle back now.

Vee shouted as the leader fell, the lancers raising their own weapons and adding their own cheers!

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#115

"you missed. Again." Koschei hissed sagely.

Ignoring his friend and confidant for the moment, Dujek instead let out a curse, between his breath, and turned from the priest to survey the scene. It seemed the priest was occupied with some monstrous pig, but help was needed elsewhere.

Turning toward's Bear-baiter's crew, Dujek began to cough up words of arcana from somewhere deep inside his frail center. Contorting his hands like spigots, he grimaced, then croaked some indecipherable sound, and finally wisps of putrid, acidic smoke began to rise around the necromancer, and slowly coalesced, floating toward Bear-baiter's bloodthirsty posse.

He spied Vee suddenly.

Lets give Kalque's mob a chance to turn tail, Dujek thought and grinned.

Look at what the cloud does, he whispered maniacally to himself, but in Kalque's direction, look at what the cloud does to your comrades.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#116

The Miasma of Death
As his mercenary rival went down, “Bearbaiter” struggled to keep the fear from his voice: There was still hope; they could still defeat these riders! Quiet Kalque’s men had already begun to fall back, unmanned by their leader’s sudden fall. “Keep on them, you whoresons!” raved Bearbaiter. “They’re on their la…”

The sellsword’s words were swallowed by a sudden hellish miasma, a haze of vile greenish vapor rising from the ground like the corrupted essence of the vengeful dead. Bearbaiter struggled to speak, but the disgusting cloud tore at his guts like a living thing, forcing him to claw at his helm before he filled it with vomit. Through the mist he could see one of his men doubled up in nausea, while two others stumbled from the foul, clinging cloud. One of the wenches with the crossbows got out, too, but the other two had fallen to hands and knees, helplessly heaving their guts out.

The camp followers had shot just as the cloud had risen around them. Their wild shots finished one rider’s already-wounded horse; another bolt had narrowly missed the crossbow-armed adventurer, passing unnoticed as he had taken aim at Kalque.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#117

After having decapitated the dark cleric, Moroth roared in triumph and turned to see what foes remained. The horde of zombies were trying to break free of the webs and would any moment now. Seeing his companion 's corpses nearby filled him with rage and he charged, hoping to kill at least one before they broke loose.

Kadarin thought that they needed to get out, quickly, before the undead broke free and trapped them, so he quicky enlarged himself as well and picked up Delsordo to get away from the undead.

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#118

The Orcish veteran’s huge axe descended again and again, some blows halted by the entangling strands, but others raining down on the undead that had slaughtered his allies.

Beside him, the massive form of the Yird Swine tore into the web, partially entangling itself in its lust to rend the undead within. As one of the animated cadavers reached it, the creature’s rending tusks raked into it. In moments, the unliving maiden froze into immobility: Easy meat for the porcine scourge.

Outside, the bandits realized that their mercenary leaders had fallen, dead or incapacitated. A few started to fall back, and fear seized the remainder. In seconds, a rout had begun.

“Nimz!” shouted the riders, as they spurred in pursuit of the broken foe!

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#119

Vee shouted, letting his horse wheel around and toss it's head. The animal knew it's people were happy and added it's own loud whinny to their cheers. Some of the lancers made to chase after the brigands and mercenaries, but the rogue shouted, "Heel to lads, heel to! We've wounded to tend and prisoners to bind. He dismounted from his borrowed mount, passing the reins to Salleer, better for the men to see their 'official' leader mounted and the Nimzian ex-patriot back on his own feet.

Several of the riders and Salleer rode out and took down a few stragglers and wounded mercenaries, leaving Vee and Greydahl to the bloody task of tending the wounded and closing the eyes of the dead. Vee scowled as he felt for his packets of dolor powder, it was most effective in a draught, good curative for a hang-over, but dumped directly into a wound it could staunch most any wound not spurting blood. He pulled a single pouch, likely his last and tossed it to one of the double-riders, "See if that will do you any good, lad."

Vee was facing Bearbaiter, now helm-less and gagging on his own vomit, one of the double-riders, a clean shaven whip of a man at his side. "You can come along quietly and I'll see that you don't hang. Or," He worked the lever of the crossbow, "You can bleed out here."

Re: Homecomings (Chap III)

#120

Kadarin moved over Delsordo, taking advantage of his magically enhanced size and strength to help restrain the struggling wrestler.

He searched his memory for what little he knew of poisons. He was familiar with alchemical toxins, but there was no time for detailed study now.

"Mouse - unless you have a better idea, get some water to flush his wounds, and take care to avoid the blood!"