Quietus Clarion (IC)

[Gabboge]

Red felt his arm cave in as the bar bore down. His arm was broken, not uncommon and fairly easy to recover from but the healing would require him to muck around under his own skin and put things back into place, something he did not look forward to. Red wanted more then anything to split the dorns skull open but Clouses training kept running through his head. Red knew his odds, never turn you back to a gnome!

Red brought his dogcutter back around for another swing against the gnome. The more cuts he made the more likely he was to find the gnomes bloated body later even if they did manage to get away.

Red tried to speak aloud It has a taste for you! but all that came out of his tongueless mouth was a garble and spit

[Luiniel Blades]

Xein could already tell the fight was going poorly for the Goblins who had boarded the wagon.  He watched as Dorin rode next to the front of the wagon smashed into the red goblin and decided to aim for the distracted Dorn instead.  Xein had missed twice now and they only had seconds left, he took a breath to steady himself and calmly spoke to Rash'Gar.

"Rash'Gar, aim for the Dorn."

Xein knew Rash'Gar had been trained to hunt after Humans, while he had been trained to recognize and hunt after Channelers of all sorts.  They had both trained together for a long time and knew where the vital areas to hit were.  Maybe now their training would pay off.  Xein pulled back another arrow, led the Dorn and released.

[Doomed Hero]

The goblins cared not for their fellows and seemed to have no real concept of the fact that they were outmatched. They continued to swarms and stab and cut.

Wendle managed to throw himself backwards into the bed of the wagon just out of the little red monster's reach as it struck again burying it's nasty blade into the seat. Wendle groaned and realized he was lying on a semi-conscious Nefario, bleeding all over the poor halfling.

The goblin Mandag had struck lunged weakly, but found itself simply grabbed by the wrist and pulled forward off balance. It's nasty little knife sunk into the wood and then with a sharp bump from Mandag, the little creature careened off the side of the wagon and into the rock wall with a  sickening crunch.

The second one followed right on the first one's heels though, slashing at Mandag's legs, grazing him while he dealt with the first.

Eirik took a knife int he shoulder as he tried to get low and out of the way of the pair of goblins slashing at him. He found himself dangerously close to the hole the ogre had kicked in the floor.

The boros barreled along uncontrolled, approaching the tight turn at speeds that might send them all skidding off the edge. The goblins were providing a near perfect distraction, but Amethyst's keen eyes could not help but weigh all the probabilities. Her sudden panic overrode the pain in her foot. There were only moments left to act.

[Gabboge]

Red started to hear the shouting of Clouse, barking orders. He felt like he was being chained up. Of course he would make him do the smart thing, but that wasn't always what felt best. Above all else Red's obedience was to Clouse.

"Just try to get them off the wagon! Go for the weakest! Drag them off.!"

Red shifted down and launched himself in quick pursuit. stayed low, locking eyes with Wendle. The gnome would make an easy target sprawled on the halfling. Quit running you little worm! First you then the ugly little halfling

[Le Noir Faineant]

With a roaring, deafening cry, arose an ogre from the white veil that had covered and enveloped him.

An ogre, in whose eyes glimmered something that had not been there when he fell... A newfound consciousness?

Blanket!

It was not the cry of an angry animal any more, it was the cry of a brute. A brute, drunken from his own barbarism.


I am Blanket!

Anger be now your song, immortal one!


It was just a line from another song often sung at the campfires, misplaced, mispronounced, anachronistic, unconnected to what was happening around him.

But from the mouth of the hulking half-wit, twice as big as a human, and built only from muscle, claws, and teeth filed into points,
it was more. It was a new expression. After hunger, lust, and wrath, the ogre, his mind probably not smarter than that of one of
the dogs he had contented to eat just not so long, had learned another primary sentiment, a feeling he probably had not known before:

Pride.


Blanket pulled off the torn veil. His eyes fixed the fight around him. His eyes found his club, where he had dropped it.

He would retrieve it.

And then, he would begin to kill.

Not flies, like a dog with his tail. He would kill warriors. On the battlefield.


Because he had a name now.

[Jester]

Hearing big brothers instructions Rash'Gar aims for the large human man and looses another arrow.

[Gabboge]

Reds sword swang wide, not caring where it landed on the gnome. It cut across the gnome palm as he held his hands up in a defensive posture. Little hands, always hiding something, not lets see you use that hand!

[Exile]

It would be safe to say that Amethyst, intelligent and empathic weakling that she was, harboured a rather fervent dislike - even hatred - of bullies.

And the loathesome red thing attempting to butcher Wendle definitely seemed to fit into the despicable category of puny things harming others in order to pretend to power.

But a weapon would be a very good start indeed, and the young alchemist's first move was to writhe away from the beast and reach through one of the holes left by King Blanket's rampage.  A flail, a stretch, a gasp in response to the latest harsh jolt of the wagon - and then a little yip of triumph as a hilt slapped into her palm.

Sitting up, she hefted the familiar weight of a cedeku - not hers, but close enough - and then darted in to assist the wounded gnome, snarling in an incoherent mix of rage and fear.  Normally, she would have favoured some cunning and indirect tactic - but the scarlet monstrosity looked wounded, distracted, and vulnerable - and if she could just plant the blade there in its back....

[Pheros]

As Dunk began to work his way across the gaping whole in the middle of the wagon, the wheel hit a rock sending him teetering toward the void below.  He caught himself as he fell, but with a new found respect for the gap in front of him, looked and the red haired girl nearby: "It's a mite bit dangerous lass.  Want a hand across?"

[Sholano]

Arrows slammed into Dorin, piercing his left arm and shoulder blade. He roared, and his eyes unfocused a bit with the pain. The horse, sensing its rider's disorientation, tried to dance away from the combat, but Dorin bore down with sudden force, and it whickered and remained where directed. Eyes shaking with battle madness, the giant man swung his weapon again, attempting to swat the threat away from his gnomish friend.

[Gabboge]

Red watched gleefully as the gnome was pushed the edge of the wagon by the waking halfling. Suddenly, he felt four knives slash across his stomach but when he looked down he didn't see any knives, just a halfling with a hand covered in his blood. Red knew he was pushing it now, one last thing to do.

Red jabbed the blunt end of the sword into the gnomes belly and shoved him over the edge. Red was wanted to follow and finish the job but he had to pick his moment.

[Matt]

Nefario had opened his eyes to a bouncing, jostling, painful world. Someone was on him. Instinct took over and he squirmed and pushed, sluffing the body off himself. Meaning began to resolve itself. The body was Wendel. Blood bloomed dark and wet from a tear in the gnomes shirt, and in Nefario's head the voices clamored for more in a loud cacophony. He looked to his hands claws extended. No, not it wasn't him. Beyond his hands a red-skinned shadow-spawn loomed. It turned to Wendle, bloody sword in hand, and began to pitch the gnome over the side of the wagon. With a silent snarl Nefario sprang to his feet. He struck with stiff fingers and burrowed his claws into the shadow-spawns belly with a quick thrust.

[Sholano]

Dorin, about to bring his weapon down with all the force his giant frame could muster, found the sight of Wendle going over the side breaking through his battle rage. He swung partially out of the saddle to scoop up his little friend, doing his best to deposit the new load in front of him on the horse.

[Doomed Hero]

Wendle's legs hit the ground for only a moment, enough to rip a hole in the knee of his pants and take a good sized chunk of skin with it.

Dorin swung him back behind him for a moment as Wendle skipped off the rough ground, praying the gnome's vest and shirt wouldn't rip, then finished the arc, swung the screaming gnome through the air and thumping him down on the front half of the saddle.

The boro's honked as they rushed around the bend, fighting the weight of the wagon and trying to keep themselves from rushing off the edge of the cliff. The already damaged wagon began to strain against the momentum of the turn. Joints began to crack. The wheels began to torque against the axle.

Dorin was caught between the cliffside and the wagon, and it was beginning to slide around the stoney bend...

[Luiniel Blades]

The wagon was almost out of sight and now only one target, the Dwarf foreman, presented himself.  Xein drew back the string on his bow and took aim but hesitated.  He was unsure of what exactly the Dwarf's motives were and if he slew an ally...

 Why hesitate?  Skindancers simple question cut the rest of Xein's train of thought.  You saw the Dwarf climb into the wagon as the tower fell.  Does he bleed?  Does he burn?  No.  He is an ally to them and an enemy to us, a heretic.  Dwarves are all heretics.  Goblins fail.  They always fail alone.  You cannot fail.  Bleed them, then hunt.  

Xein hated to admit it, but Skindancer was right.  "Dwarves are all traitors."  He then released the arrow.

[Jester]

Watching their prey disappear from sight, Rash'Gar takes a deep breath and carefully aims at the last viable target. 

One of the short,squat folk.

Calmly he lets fly his arrows.

[Pheros]

As he began to reposition himself to try the gap again, Dunk's leg moved as if of its own mind.  Looking down, he saw the arrow protruding a moment before he recognized the pain.  A wordless roar left his lips.  Following its path it back, he momentarily locked eyes with the two figures on the tower, a short pale figure and a larger fur-covered one, as they receded from view.

He gritted his teeth in pain, rolled onto the flat surface behind him, and placed one hand on his leg and the other on the shaft.  then it was just a quick tug, and another blast of pain.

[Le Noir Faineant]

On the tips of his foot-long toes, Blanket moved towards his club.

Why, oh why, by the shadow and the night, had he had to drop it?

Blanket sniffed, in utter confusion. All those... Smallfolks, all busy killing. He sure hoped they wouldn't eat all the flesh themselves.

Oh, if he just got to his club. Then he would restore method to this madness. And then, taste some delicious goblin liver.

...Cooked. Because, persons with names, names like "Blanket", ate their meat cooked.

...So, Blanket, like a real person with a real name, would cook what he killed. Soon.

[Ilona Ebonblade]

Reaching out to take the proferred hand Siobahn half jumps, half swings herself across the gap, landing effortlessly on the other side, her body adjusting to the rapid tun of the cart so fluidly as to make it appear as if she were on stable ground.

Allowing the momentum to course through her body she brought her sword down in a fluid arc, scoring a scorching slash across the chest of the goblin's armor, the blade-brand's edge hissing as it seared the flesh beneath.

[Ghostfall]

With only one goblin remaining in sight Mandag became impatient. He advanced himself forward and leveled a hook towards the goblins head, but as he moved so did the wagon. Taken off his balance, his fist only connected with the foul creature's armor.

[Gabboge]

Red felt more fire and pain. His vision was beginning to dim. Luck had turned against him. He attempted to escape but was met with more attacks, the final one striking his head. Red vision began grew darker, and his muscles buckled.

It was ether fall forward or fall back. Forward was death at the hands of these squishy pink things, backwards were the sharp rocks and unforgiving mountains. He shifted his weight back, and felt his body tumble over the edge.

Four against him, Red couldn't help but feel cheated. Like the day he had played Clouse a game of dice "Cheated? Of course I cheated!" Clouse had said "There are only two real forces in this world. Luck and cheating. Goblins all have a little luck if they made it past infancy alive and out of the north. Now cheating, that's just a fact of life. Ether your rigging or the game is being rigged against you, the world isn't ever fair."

I should have ch-

Red skull made contact with a rock and all thinking abruptly stopped

[Doomed Hero]

Back in the camp, Jael had made his way to the tower. He watched impassively as the wagon rounded the bend out of sight. He pushed his hand down on Xein's bow, fouling his last shot.

"Enough. We need to regroup. Now is as good a time as any for the next phase. Gather your companions."

Minutes later they stood with Khav and the skull-faced orcish captain in the midst of the rubble where the wall had collapsed listening to Jael outline a plan of attack. Clouse, the hobgoblin engineer, had arrived on on a litter being carried by the burn-scarred ogre and given his report about the bridge at the falls. Apparently it had been disarmed of a trap and reinforced. His smartest goblin had been sent to guid the siege weapons Jael was expecting up the pass.

Chunks of broken masonry created a rough miniature of the area's topography. Jael pointed with a simple stick drawing lines in the dirt outlining approaches of attack. "Kahv, Kharvor, you two will lead the assault on this gate. Do not be reckless with the initial attacks. I expect this to take weeks. By the end we will need every last body."

"Sir Riddar, you and your team will act as our irregulars. Your task is to get inside and disrupt their ability to respond. Kill leadership. Light fires. Destroy supplies. Your primary targets are the dwarven lord and his ruling council. Dwarven heraldry is subtle. They may be hard to spot. We will get you inside the walls tonight. After that you will be on your own."

[Luiniel Blades]

"How are we to enter this... fortress, unnoticed?  Your Dwarf was a traitor, any information he gave was likely false.  Also while I trust in some of our groups skill at avoiding detection, I believe that not all of us would be able to avoid notice for long."    Xein stared at Jael, sparing only a quick glance for Sir Riddar, and Father Roycillo.  

A problem for the knight and the loud one?  Yes.  For you?  Perhaps not.  Do not underestimate the Dwarves.  Darkness is not your ally in dealing with them.  They can see, just as an Orc can.  For once, Skindancer had said something useful rather than the usual disdain for Xein.  It had not occurred to him that the night may have been a problem.

"And then there is the matter of darkness.  We will need light, Dwarves can operate fine without it."

[Gabboge]

Clouse hesitantly interjected just as the elfling quit speaking.

"The dwarf was a traitor?" Clouse's fist tightened. "He's bound to have a contact within the fortress, perhaps we can back track some of his movements to see how he made his way in and out. If we do it quickly we might be able to beat them to the fortress. Do we have any sniffers?"

[Doomed Hero]

"Unnoticed? I said irregulars, not infiltrators. You will go over the wall with an assault force, and splinter off to fulfill your mission. Any dwarf stupid enough to follow you instead of dealing with the siege, kill them."

"We have no sniffers, Clouse, but you are correct about speed. The main force is already on the move. We will catch up."