The Battle of Tzatzlfjord - The Troll Onslaught at the Start of Battle
The Lords of Frieland - Round 3
"Kriger!” Kalsgrim almost lunges forward when he sees the troll tear into his friend, but holds back and tries to end the threat. In his anger, he calls on his lord’s wrath once again.
//His arrows thud deeply in the offending troll, but he remains standing...
Servayn calls upon arcane haste, while Ember attempts to take advantage of flight and his increased speed to charge at the next closest standing troll.
//The eidolon’s attack brings down the troll, leaving the two behind, standing 20 feet from Ember and Kriger, all fangs and teeth, fueled by mad hatred.
Malaswyn, a hundred feet away, raises his bow...
I race forward ready to protect my allies.
As he notices Malaswyn move in, "Glad to see you, Mal. I'm kinda bleedin' to death. Again." Kriger grips his axe and prepares for the oversized brutes.
The Battle of Tzatzlfjord - The Troll Onslaught at the Start of Battle
The Lords of Frieland - Round 3 - Second part
Malaswyn changes his mind and races forward, ready to protect his allies.
As he notices Malaswyn move in, "Glad to see you, Mal. I'm kinda bleedin' to death. Again." Kriger grips his axe and prepares for the oversized brutes.
The Trouble-Making Trolls - Round 3
The two new trolls snarl as they step forward slightly. They take advantage of their longer reach, pounding on Ember and Kriger.
Kriger
Ember
//Both beasts manage to find an opening, leaving deep bloody gashes.
I quickly call upon Her aid to revive my injured ally.
Ember leaps into the air again, attempting another charge-and-pounce on the next living troll within 80 to 110 feet (depending on whether or not haste is in effect).
Servayn attempts to caste haste again, unsure as to why it didn't take effect last round and peering about for someone countering his spells.
As Kriger gets tore to pieces, he falls. But not too long of a moment after, he awakens. "Am I dead?" He looks around, noticing the two huge trolls still standing near him. Rolling his eyes, "Ah crap. Guess not." Kriger immediately stands up, grabbing his axe as he does and attacks.
The last two trolls are minced under the onslaught of Ember, Kriger and Kalsgrim's arrows.
The Battle of Tzatzlfjord - Phase 2
Behind you, the battle rages still as the raiders have reached the banks of the river and move in the village. A clamor of rage rises as they clang their sword on their shield, bringing slaughter to Tzatzlfjord.
Servayn turns to the fighting and moves at a breath-taking pace, still not used to the speed granted by his arcane haste. Once he sees a clump of foes within range, threatening the townsfolk, he targets the area with grease, glitterdusk or black tentacles, depending on the size of the group (and ensuring that if he finds a group large enough to effect with black tentacles, he doesn't catch any villagers in the spells effect, although he may be less precise about targetting grease or glitterdust, since those spells effects won't harm anyone on their own).
Ember leaps again from the smouldering remains of the troll he has just butchered, and attempts to pounce into a new cluster of foes, splitting his targets up so that bite and bonus claw attack are directed at one soldier and a claw and wing each at a second and third target. (If he can't find a place to be within 10 ft. reach of three different soldiers, he'll try to find two together, or just give all six attacks to one lucky ducky...)
Kriger heads toward one of the many threatened areas; and one that is not being targeted by Servayn's spells.
The Battle of Tzatzfjord
As the invaders move in to attack the village, they encounter fierce resistance as the lords of Frieland join the battle. Still, their resolve is strong, and they fight with great energy, rallying every time they are pushed back.
Their numbers allow them to swarm from many different directions, and they manage to circumvent most obstacles, though leaving fallen bodies behind, as they move to the streets of Tzatzfjord.
Though it seems clear that the people of Tzatzlfjord will prevail, what remains unclear is the cost of victory, for the raiders cut through streets and buildings, moving in houses and turning a single battle into numerous smaller slaughters...
Phase 3
Servayn will continue hitting clusters of foes with black tentacles (for big groups, preferred, since it does more than inconvenience it's targets), glitterdust and grease, in descending order of preference (and being willing to accept the occasional 'friendly fire accident' with those, as they cause no lasting harm, and if he can hit five bad guys with a glitterdust, he won't sweat temporarily blinding a single defender as well), until those slots are expended. He's not saving anything for later, and, if he runs out of spells, will resort to blasting with his wand of lightning.
As much as possible, he will attempt to use these lingering area of effect spells to block off areas, and buy defenders some breathing room to regroup or pull wounded or non-combatants away from attackers.
Ember will continue killing any near him, and when he finds none within reach, will leap into the air and drop onto a new group, to continue wreaking his own special brand of havoc.
If Ember falls, Servayn will begin calling in swarms of mephits, to unleash their own stinking clouds, glitterdusts, etc.
Through it all, roaring walls of fire, bursts of mystical embers blinding some while burbling black sludge brings others to the ground, and noisome oily tentacles erupt from the earth, while a dragon-like creature the size of a rhinoceros leaps about like an excitable kitten attacking milling ants, Servayn laughs like a madman, bringing chaos and fire in his wake.
Kriger continues to avoid areas being taken care of by the others magic.
As he hears maniacal laughter in the distance, he looks around and notices Servayn with a wild look about him. "I think Servayn has gone off his rocker." A small grin forms at the thought. "I'm glad he's on my team! HA! HA!" Kriger jumps back into the fray, chopping at anything that just looks like it needs to be killed.
The battle is fought from house to house, as the lords of Frieland, for the most part, focus on offense, leaving the control of the battlefield in the capable hands of Servayn.
Flames, smoke, sweat, blood and worst soak your senses as the battle heaves its last hard breathes.
The opposition falters though, under your relentless assault and the madness you can conjure. Between Servayn's spells, Ember's charges, Kalsrgim and Malaswyn's rain of arrows and Kriger's unforgiving axe, the raiders have little chance and the villagers rally behind you, their cries of war soon soaring to engulf the raiders'.
And then it ends, perhaps as quickly as it started. The noises of war are replaced by stunned silence, broken by the crackling flames and the distant wailings of the injured.
After a confused moment when he can no longer see a standing enemy, whatever spell that battle cast over Servayn fades, and he sees the wounded, and the fires, and begins instructing townsfolk to gather the wounded in the center of the community, so that Malaswyn can tend to them in one location, after any immediate bleeding is staunched.
If any incidental fires have been touched off by the walls of fire, or other fiery events, he tells those with buckets of water ready to work to extinguish them, lending a hand in these efforts, as he would be of limited use attempting to succor the injured.
Ember is directed to seek out any fleeing enemies, fly them down and bring back one alive, if possible, that we might question them as to the location of their bandit camp, and any forces that might remain in reserve, that we might fell this tree at its root...
Your precautions bear fruits, for the village is mostly left untouched by the fire. The wounded are tended to quickly and only a handful of villagers have met their end.
Ember returns quickly with the unconscious body of a soldier. You recognize the livery of Baron Drelev on his coat, the same that adorns most of the dead, though a few slain warriors have a more tribal look to them.
The news of a vibrant and complete victory sweeps through the buildings and the villagers are excited though drained as they come down in the streets, spontaneously laughing loudly and dancing as they cope with the faltering stress of battle.
You see Kisandra at the head of a group of men, all battered and bloodied. She seems to have been injured in the battle, but has kept a confident smile and vibrant eyes.
I hustle about, organising any folk with healing magic or skill.
I expend my healing magics with this order of priorities:
1. restoring the gang to full health, so that any final unexpected threats can be met
2. rescuing the grievously injured form the edge of death
3. healing care-givers and providers who can look after others
4. anyone particularly vulnerable to a worsening condition (the elderly, infants)
5. Everyone else
As it increasingly seems that we're done, I pour out Sarenrae's blessing and should end the day with all spells used unless there have been very few injuries.
As I heal, I praise the bravery of the townsfolk.
Privately, I confide to Kalsgrim, Kriger and Servayn, "What was the source of this assault? Should we look to the security of our fledgling nation?"
Privately, I confide to Kalsgrim, Kriger and Servayn, "What was the source of this assault? Should we look to the security of our fledgling nation?"
"Your <bleep> right we should! I wanna know who the <bleep> is behind this! And when we do find out, I'm gonna kill 'im. That'll solve that little problem," Kriger declares with an emphatic nod.
Things have now settled. The woods are secure and the few still wounded now just need time to recover.
A great feast is organized to celebrate the victory, and you find yourselves at the same table in the central courtyard of Tzatzlfjord.
Kisandra looks up to Kaslgrim: "I've been asking myself the same question... In my heart, I wish to believe Maegar Drelev is a good and just leader, but that just is not so..."
"About a year ago, we had trouble with some barbarian tribe. After a few clashes, they came in great numbers and attacked the fort. We easily pushed them back, and the Baron really shone that day, showing great skills in warfare. But they came back, a few months ago, and this time, they were organized, ready, trained and equipped with siege engines."
"And then Drelev showed his true nature. In the face of a real challenge, he simply capitulated and surrendered to the barbarians. They call themselves the Tiger Lords, and their leader is a fearsome young warrior named Armag."
"To seal the defeat, Armag took the daughters of all the officers as hostages, in exchange leaving Drelev in charge. My father is the only one who held his ground, and spirited me away."
"I hid in the town's brothel..." she blushes and looks down at this, "Thanks to an old friend of my father, Satinder Morne. He knows everything the soldiers know, for obvious reasons, and I became aware of their plan to take Tzatzlfjord. Remembering our meeting in Brevoy, I decided it was time to act, and hurried to warn you."
"Drelev has put my father in jail, and the daughters have been led away south by Amrag. Please, I beg you to save the town, my father and those young girls. Who knows what their real plan is!?"
"The Tiger Lords provided for these. I have no idea how..." answers Kisandra.
"If you want to head west, you should know that a vast marsh and lake Hooktongue extend past these woods. Fort Drelev lies on the other side of the lake."
She shudders as she mentions the marsh. It seems the whole experience of running and warning has left some marks.
"Drelev's people need our protection. We must go."
"Another fort full of bandits on a lake. Seems to be a theme in these parts..." Servayn says distractedly.
"We should at least send a message back to Providence to warn of a potential incursion, that they not be unprepared, as was the case the last time we encountered trolls out of their usual places, and that we will be a few days longer, dealing with matters here, so that rumors do not begin to cause unrest." he says, "Although we shouldn't include details of exactly what matters we are attending to, or our destination, in case the message reaches unfriendly ears..."
Kriger's eyes narrow at the thought of more bandits. Pulling out his axe, he goes through his ritual of running his thumb along the edge, a fine line of blood showing. Looking to Kalsgrim, "So, Chief, when do we leave?" he asks with a fierce determination in his voice.
"I thank you Lord Kalsgrim. I will stay here and wait for your return." she says with longing eyes. "A lot of bad things have happened in the castle since I was spirited away. Best to ask Satinder Morne for intelligence upon your arrival at the village. I'm sure you'll find allies there."
She looks at Kalsgrim with intent, ready to add something, but the words seem stuck in her throat as she darts to look at the others: "Ol'Deadeye be with you!" she manages to blurt.
You ride west, led expertly by Kriger, while Ember prefers to stay off the ground.
After two days, you reach the limit of Frieland. Beyond stands the realm of baron Drelev. Without a pause, you carry on. The forest is thick and ancient around you, and you feel the weight of the aeons that have gone, and cannot help but wonder at what past these woods have seen, and whether that past will lay dormant.
Two days more, and the forest thins gradually, turning into a sliver of plain that extends north. West lies a great marsh. It is wet and miserable, and soon a miasma of insects have homed in on your scent. South, it looks like the forest meets the marsh. Ember rises, but all it can see is marsh to the west, miles and miles of putrid marsh, though north, the plain widens.