While the group is in the area, Ozzy will send Mr. Winky to fly over and assess their combat readiness. Do they have siege weapons of their own? How many guards are on duty, and how attentive do they seem? What races are present, and how are they armed? Do they raise any type of alarm when the head comes flying in, or have any obvious means of doing so besides shouting at one another? Stuff like that. I'm especially looking for anything that Mr. Winky might be able to use his Disable Device skill on if he sneaks into the fort later.
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While Mr. Winky conducts espionage, an arrow with a strip of paper rolled and tied around it find a home head-down in the dirt, fired in the general direction that the manticore's head came from.
Greetings, Abaos.
Your missive was most informative, perhaps against your own intent.
It seems clear to me that you lack the force to take our walls. Your vulgar threat proved to me what already I suspected, Raltoukh was drawn into an ambush and slain not by superior manpower, but by ballistae, doubtless murdered to conceal from us the sorry state of your forces, such as they are, which hide in the trees as scared kobolds in their den.
You will answer for his cowardly murder, later if not sooner.
We know of your ragged band's condition; when Rutan took her leave you lacked the supplies to wage a war of attrition. As we know your meager means, it's only fair that we divulge ours with you. We have both food and water within our walls, produced by magic. They will not run out. I reiterate; we can wait here until the last of you starves to death.
Your grand schemes of defying Restov, doomed to failure as they were from their very conception, will die here with you. That's no loss at all. I have no interest in putting myself above the law; justice will come for me eventually, as all of us. I will be here to meet it when it does.
Our arcanist, Sneeg, tells me that your lieutenant was at one point in her career a captain, she must have been recently demoted. It appears that Restov does not care enough to own these Stolen Lands to send more to take them than disgraced officers and traitors. I suspect that these lawless lands will remain so until the day I die.
I have neither the authority nor the inclination to betray the Stag Lord, and I have never heard of "Nugrah". However, I can offer my life, as Captain of the Stag Lord's forces , in exchange for a man you hold prisoner. A man named Norris, son of Kurt.
I shudder to think of what tortures such as you would inflict on those at your mercy. Norris was a good man, I know that he only break under threat of death. And yet break he must have, how else could you know my name and our defenses?
Ever since Auchs returned with word of Norry's capture, his senile father, Kurt the Greathearted, has spoken to no-one and refused food. He is feverish and cold in turns. We fear for his life.
I fear neither sword nor rope. I'm tired of fighting the inevitable. I do not fear death, though I know that to me it must mean damnation. Erastil sees justice done. All I ask is that you show mercy to Norris and his father. Their crimes are less than mine.
-Akiros Ismort
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Abaos reads the letter when it is found, and his hopeful face quickly turns into a scowling darkness that worsens, blacker and more black, until he finishes. He furiously grabs another paper and begins scribbling.
I regret to inform you of the untimely death of your son, Norry. He was slain shortly after his capture, against my orders. He was buried along with his belongings in the camp, and I personally stood vigil over his grave. I deeply regret his passing, and am sorry for your loss, though I do not expect your forgiveness.
Abaos
After finishing, he quickly grabs a bow from one of the men "Your bow."
He then walks straight to the edge of the woods, ignoring all attempts to stop him. He steps out, yells "Parley," and then quickly fires off an arrow with the note attached, aiming for the door of the complex so as not to hit anyone. He then stands there for a quick moment, eyes burning intensely on the wall, before turning back into the woods.
"I'm going to check the progress of the tunnel," he informs the group bitterly, as he stalks off to where the digging should be occurring.
Meanwhile, Mr. Winky has been flying about the Stag Lord's fortress unopposed. There are few within the castle who have even a chance at seeing Mr. Winky as he silently flies along.
Outside the castle, there are none.
Do they have siege weapons of their own?
None that Mr. Winky can see.
What races are present, and how are they armed?
Mostly humans, though other ancestries are also present. For convenience's sake, they'll all be using the same stats, and we'll say that any difference between them is outweighed by the dice.
They're armed with longbows and with a motley assortment of melee weaponry that all use the stats of shortswords. (But will be more fun to narrate!)
Do they have siege weapons of their own? How many guards are on duty, and how attentive do they seem?
After the manticore's head was catapulted over the wall, the guards are on high alert. There are ten people on the watchtowers or on the walls, bows ready, talking to each other and making a show of not being nervous but paying very good attention to the treeline.
Despite the daylight, they stand near stands with torches in them.
Auchs stands guard just inside the only gate through the pallisade, though Ozzy doesn't need her imaginary friend to tell her that; she can see his head poking over the top whenever he stands on his toes to get a better view.
Strewn about at the ogre's feet is what appears to be an enormous straw mattress, though it's a little heavy on the straw and a little light on the mattress. Half buried in it is a taxidermied black bear, it's fur thin in places from constant handling.
Do they raise any type of alarm when the head comes flying in, or have any obvious means of doing so besides shouting at one another?
No one sees Mr. Winky, so no one raises an alarm, but Mr. Winky can't see any other way to alert the others than shouting. Shouting would likely do the trick, though.
I'm especially looking for anything that Mr. Winky might be able to use his Disable Device skill on if he sneaks into the fort later.
Is Mr. Winky sneaking into the fort right now? If not, he can't see anything on the interior.
Mr. Winky is surprised by a commotion at the door, and Auchs screams out, suddenly incensed, A few people run along the walls to see what's going on, though most have the good sense to man their positions. Someone runs into the monastery, and comes out with a tall bearded man in rusted armor, a dented roundshield that at one time had an intricate symbol painted on it, though that's been subsumed by rust and sword-marks.
The bearded man has the door opened, and retrieves the arrow embedded in it. Reading the affixed short missive, the bearded man's expression hardens. Wordlessly, he crumples the letter in his fist and stalks his way back into the monastery, ignoring the questions asked of him.
"I'm going to check the progress of the tunnel," he informs the group bitterly, as he stalks off to where the digging should be occurring.
Now that there's no fear of the manticore spying their operations, the kobolds are ready to dig. Later. They're tired, and are naturally nocturnal, so they're sleeping right now to get an early start tonight, they plan to begin construction before the stars come out.
"Well, that all went as as well as one might expect when you mix raw emotion coupled with half baked plans and add a generous dollop of "who gives a f&@k, let's kill everything". [*sigh*] "It's true. We killed Norry. To be perfectly honest, he was, at the time, just finished with his job, that of trying to kill us, and the only reason he was finished was because we stopped him."
Awn looks around.
"War is an incredibly untidy and chaotic business. Perfect for us."
"I don't understand why you all seem to care so much about this one. We are here to eat-murder them all. One of them tried to eat us, and we ate him. No crying. My kobolds will dig under their wall, and when it collapses we burn everything."
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Towards nightfall, Abaos emerges from his tent that he's been brooding in, and walks towards the group. He looks like a wreck, with red cheeks, bloodshot eyes, and hair flung in an uneven position. His normally smiling face has a hard frown line, and he speaks in a short, clipped tone.
"We need to attack tonight, or else he will suspect something. Every night, until we are ready. A quick skirmish, and we are away- I won't risk lives needlessly- but we cannot wait here, either. He knows about Garess, so I'm taking her and some of the bandits to attack; maybe try to burn that maze out. Have the kobolds stay here and dig; and tell Lord Dragonfly to scout along the undead perimeter- But he MUST sat out of sight!- while we are away. We shall return shortly. Any questions?"
Happs Bydon has misgivings. "I dunno if we're in any kinda position to skirmish. If we leave the treeline they'll light us on fire an'if we try shooting arrows from cover they'll light us on fire."
Garess disagrees. "Without their airborne scout, we can dig our firebreak with impunity and start a fire pre-emptively. Means we'll likely be doing that all night instead of fighting, but we were going to have to dig the thing eventually anyway. The important thing is, as Abaos says, that we keep them on their toes and off our tracks."
The kobolds and humans work through the night, the kobolds on their tunnel (well, on their pit, but they'll start tunneling presently) and the humans to clear a firebreak, hacking off the limbs of trees and clearing brush. They try to work along natural breaks in the forest, cleaving to streams and existing gulleys, but they also make an attempt to stay as near to the fort as possible without risking notice.
Everything between the line of cleared brush and the Tuskgutter Lake will burn.
At last, early enough in the morning that the sun has yet to show it's face, but late enough that the grey sky herald's it's approach, the work is complete. Like a scar the ugly dirt path, with splintered wood and uprooted brush strewn like kindling on either side of it, winds it's way through the Narlmarches. It's an ugly thing, but few realize that. They're exhausted, but it's the kind of happy exhaustion that comes from working hard to do something you want done with people that you like.
Besides, it's an ugly thing that exists to prevent greater ugliness, even if it was created to facilitate ugliness in the first place.
Iorskan gladly volunteers to be the one to light everything up. He insists on doing it in full view of the enemy.
Ozzy doesn't want to argue with Abaos in his current mood, but thinks dumb to send Dragonfly for stealthy scouting instead of Mr. Winky, so she takes her eidolons to scout that side instead.
Awn watches, but cannot bring himself to participate in the ravaging of the green. He understands the need of futures to come, but is content to let others bring them toward the now.
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Abaos looks on with pride as the men finish the firebreak. It's ugly, sure, but it'll do a lot of good, and for that, Abaos smiles. The first smile he's had in a day. And, after a few moments of rest, he walks up to the Dragon king.
"Iorskan, come with me. i'd like you to do the honors; but wait for my signal. I intend this to be a pretty fascinating thing, after all."
Soo, he goes up to Happs, and with a few whispered words, he slowly works the group of tired bandits and Garess' horselords into a chant. "Iorskan" it starts, but slowly grows into a tremendous roar "Iorskan Iorskan Iorskan"
And, when the world is at it's zenith, he gives the signal to fire.
Iorskan paced back and forth, roaring as he did so. He stayed just outside of arrow range. He wanted everyone in the fortress to see him. He wanted to be heard. He wanted them to know fear. For he was Lord Iorskan! Master of the seventh flame! The seneschal of the secret fire. The master of all that fell under his shadow. That, and every other title that he could think of. He would make them fear his name.
Once the chanting had reached a high enough pitch, he reared up on his hind legs and spread his wings out as far as they would go. He was still small, but he was growing in size. That, and he could feel the heat in his chest rising up.
A mighty wall of flame shot out, the largest that he had yet produced. Right into the flammable ground. Iorskan barred his teeth in feral hunger. The world would burn and he would light the fire.
The flames spread quickly, and just as quickly do the forces of protagoning beat a hasty retreat. From a distance you watch the forest burn, great plumes of smoke choke the air. The blue sky turns grey. Animals fast enough to escape do so, splashing across streams or sprinting for the safety beyond the firebreak. You hear the dying screams of those less capable, even over the sound of trees burning.
Hours later, when it’s safe to return, you find a barren, ashy waste, pockets of fire still burning, defoliated trees protruding from the earth.
Iorskan surveyed the destruction with joy in his heart. Something primal in him stirred at the sight of the devastation. So many years of insecurity over his size and position, all momentarily blotted out by the power of his flames (and that of the environmental factors...but those didn’t count).
Guthruc, supporting his friend, walks up next to Iorskan surveying the wreckage
"Small dragon become big dragon, strong dragon"
Guthruc says this as he munches on a bird that had barely escaped the flames. He offers another, still alive and struggling in his grasp, to iorskan
Iorskan happily snatched the bird. Soon his maw was a mess of blood and feathers. He growled happily. Best. Day. Ever.
This early in the morning, it's cold enough that you can see your breath.
Frost frosted vegetation crunches under the feet of the small army you have assembled. On lower ground, rainwater froze before it could drain properly, a good enough reason to have your camp pitched up here, rather than down there.
Though, the camp isn't pitched, so much as it's been constructed. Industrious kobolds and humans created shelters strong enough to weather the weather, cabins consisting of those trees that grew in the path of the firebreak.
Three out of the past five days, you've gone out to harass the people in their fort. It wasn't a terribly risky thing to do while waiting for the kobolds to finish digging their tunnel; Garess's soldiers are better trained and better equipped than the rank and file bandits holding the castle.
And yet, five brave folk are buried not far from where you stand right now, with the bones of a horse. (The rest of it was eaten, but Garess's soldiers insisted on giving the horse a proper burial.) Others were wounded, but as Bokken arrived in your camp shortly after the first storm, much of the horror and slow death by festering injury that haunts healer-scarce battles was avoided. (You'd think that there'd be more equines biting the dust, but they're tough enough to eat a few arrows and druidic healing meant that those who got away wounded were right as Thor's rain shortly thereafter.)
Almost all of your casualties were inflicted on the same day; the second day of skirmishing when the Stag Lord finally visited the battlements in person.
Closer to seven feet tall than to six, with the antlers of his helmet making him seem even taller, he was impossible to miss as he staggered his way to the top of the battlement. His bow must have been seven feet long, thick around as Townsend's wrist, the chain rattling against his metal arm guard clearly audible even hundreds of feet away over the sound of horses and humans. His arrows punctured armor, pinned shields to arms, shattered bones, and bodily threw armored men off horseback.
Retaliatory fire subsequently knocked him off the wall, twenty or so arrows hitting him more or less simultaneously. He didn't show up for the third day of skirmishing.
It's impossible to tell how much damage your own people did; impossible to tell the difference between death and grave injury that isn't actually all that grave because they have a healer, too. But, by your best estimations, you hurt them roughly as bad as they hurt you. Worse, if the Stag Lord died.
At any rate, the tunnel is inches away from completion, and will be finished on command. How do you guys want to go about doing this?
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Abaos is tired from tired from the fighting. It's been five days, and they've launched three attacks, causing five brave men to die. It's unfair, and Abaos wishes even harder that this could have been avoided. Alas, it was not to be, so he does what he can best- he talks to them.
He's written down the names of the five men who lost their lives, along with a short snippet about them from anyone who knew them, and had a story to share. Everyone's been willing to talk; sharing the stories seems to ease some of the tension of their passing, especially around the fire- though Abaos does recognize a few looks from men who ponder their own story. One of the men, an outsider who mostly lived alone until he heard Happs' call, didn't have many stories- so Abaos penned one, about the man who stole a kiss from a princess before being banished out here for the rest of his days, that he's quite proud of. Certainly, it's a grand tale that the men will remember. He's calling it: The Book of the Fallen, while simultaneously reminding everyone that death is just a journey; theyll start anew later. He heard that somewhere, he just can't remember where. Still he likes it, so he repeats it.
He's really happy that Bokken showed up- last he heard, the odd druid wasn't interested in helping against the Stag Lord. So, he's set up with everything he needs to function as the camp healer, even if Abaos (and quite a few of the others) are suddenly missing spots of hair on their heads.
The Stag Lord is an impressive sight- Abaos remembers the fear that occurred when he showed up to the walls. Everyone seemed to hold their breath- and when the arrows off of his strongbow came flying, it was all Abaos could do not to sound a retreat right there. Instead, he called for a retialitory focus on just him, and was pleased when the order was obeyed- and the Stag Lord did not show up to fight the next day. If the bandits were right about anything, it was that the Stag Lord was certainly a sight to behold.
It was morning on the sixth day, and Abaos had just been met by Chief Sootscale and his senior digger. Apparently, the tunnel was all but completed, and they wished Abaos' word for the finale. He doesn't give it, yet- but there's a sense of something, a tension tingling the spine like pillars of sweat dropping down the back of your neck, but all around; it is apprehension- no, chance- no, destiny- yes, he likes that- destiny, hanging in the air. Strong, and Abaos likes it. With a kick in his step, he summons the leaders of the movement; Lord Dragonfly, Chief Sootscale, Leuitenant Garess, Happs Bydon, Bokken, and his fellows; Bright Awn, Ozzara, Guthruc and Anura does Guthruc go anywhere now without his battle chief following behind?, and Iorksan, to the planning tent. He's going to lay out the final piece of the puzzle, and he's truly excited. Destiny- whether his, or someone else's; was balanced on the edge, and Abaos was anxious to see how it fell.
”Cold! It is cold, and I don’t like being cold.” Frosted vegetation frosted by frost was fun to crunch on, but it didn’t excuse the weather. Being wet wasn’t good. Being cold wasn’t good. Being wet and cold was...bad!
”My faithful vassals will break through soon. Let us have the mites pull their weight now by unleashing them. Let us charge now and take this fortress.”
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He's really happy that Bokken showed up- last he heard, the odd druid wasn't interested in helping against the Stag Lord. So, he's set up with everything he needs to function as the camp healer, even if Abaos (and quite a few of the others) are suddenly missing spots of hair on their heads.
Iorskan sees Bokken chewing on something shiny and gold-colored. Nearby, Zornesk is piling copper pieces into stacks of ten, and counting them.
Now that both Bokken and Captain Garess are in one place, a misunderstanding is brought to light. Bokken describes Nugrah as an old man with a vicious temper and a dearth of self-control, where the captain describes Falgrim Sneeg as a young, arrogant, cool and collected individual. They don't seem to be the same person.
[ooc]I bet Ozzy would have thought about that at some point during the five day timeskip, so sure, we can say she's been doing that. I'll give everyone a +2 circumstance bonus on stealth checks until battle is joined.
During these five days, Guthruc asks ozzy where the entrance and exits are to the "weapon house", the "warriors' sleep room" and the "king room". He plans to block these doorways with snakes.
Now that both Bokken and Captain Garess are in one place, a misunderstanding is brought to light. Bokken describes Nugrah as an old man with a vicious temper and a dearth of self-control, where the captain describes Falgrim Sneeg as a young, arrogant, cool and collected individual. They don't seem to be the same person.
During these five days, Guthruc asks ozzy where the entrance and exits are to the "weapon house", the "warriors' sleep room" and the "king room". He plans to block these doorways with snakes.
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Bokken is a very old man; in game terms, he's taken a -6 age penalty to his constitution score, which wasn't super high to begin with. He has just about as many hit points as he does hit dice. He ain't goin' anywhere near the fight. But he's happy to help how he can.
Now that both Bokken and Captain Garess are in one place, a misunderstanding is brought to light. Bokken describes Nugrah as an old man with a vicious temper and a dearth of self-control, where the captain describes Falgrim Sneeg as a young, arrogant, cool and collected individual. They don't seem to be the same person.
Prior to the battle, Abaos will personally invite his friends, (which is the party, Happs, Townsend, Dharak, and the four kobolds- Nakpik, Eadoo, Poro, and Zornesk) to a friendly game of cards. Because, cards.