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Author Topic: Bryald's Journal - Part 17 - Locked Tight  (Read 1213 times)
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Spell Energy / Taint +12/-3
Posts: 715

« on: October 26, 2009, 10:13:00 AM »

Eight of us gathered beside the Captainís bedside to hear his orders and share information.  The room was dark, tight, and smelled of purgatives and soiled linen.  The Captain was pale, sweating, seeming to have aged a decade overnight. He could barely raise his head, but you could see the determination in his eyes.  He was going to stay in command and restore order regardless of the cost to his own health.

The Captain wasnít the only injured person in the room.  The hulking Dorn Sergeant, Dulthas, was slumped in the only chair, heavily bandaged and in obvious pain. Beside him were the two Dorn Loremasters that had dispelled the darkness and helped capture the caravanís leader. For the Erenlanders, there was Sergeant Yorin, myself, Corporal Alten of the first platoon, the physiker, and the Captainís aide. The physiker was clearly unhappy that the meeting was being held and told us that we had but a few minutes before he would cast us out so the Captain could rest.

With his voice barely above a whisper the Captain asked about our losses and any damage to the fort. We had lost about a quarter of our men dead or wounded. Our food supplies were being inspected against tampering and water would be boiled until we were sure it was pure. The Dorns had questioned the prisoners and several had talked for the promise of a quick death. The attack had been timed for just before the snows to ensure that the fort would be isolated and its loss not discovered until the spring. The attackers had hoped that the loss of the fort and all hands would force the fort to be permanently abandoned and further strain relations between the Dorns and the Kingdom.

The attack had failed due to the Dornsí suspicion of the caravan and my waking from a drugged sleep. The Captain made it clear that we survived as much by luck as preparation. If the attackers had worked with the orc tribe to the north, none of us would still be alive. To make matters worse, the doomsayer was a legate, a dark priest of the Shadow, and his hound was likely demon possessed. We had killed the master, but the demon escaped. Soon those who served the Shadow, including the orc tribes, would know what occurred and our true strength.  The Captain expected an attack before the break of the year. We had little time to heal and prepare, and no hope of any aid.   

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Against the Shadow  |  Forum  |  Midnight & RPGs  |  Games and Stories (Moderators: Kane, Bleak Knight)  |  Topic: Bryald's Journal - Part 17 - Locked Tight
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