Saturday, March 28, 2009

To Arms

It had taken only two days marching at a brisk pace to get to the base of the mountains and the territory known by all as Orcenhome. It was a rugged, unforgiving place full of shifting, loose stone and jagged, sheer cliffs. It was said that the dwarves once lived here but had been overthrown by the orc hoards long ago. Now the place was crawling with all manner of nasty beasts hiding in dark holes. It took Vantil and his woodland friends another day to move from the foothills up into the mountains where the druid had tracked the foul goblin. Arteris, god of protection, smiled upon them that day; no monsters ventured forth to attack them as they plodded along the narrow mountain trails. This was a good thing, as all of the druid’s considerable skill was tested navigating the rugged terrain which was still heavy with wet snow and ice from winter. They would have to be quick about their business the druid noted as they passed; otherwise the melting snow might make it too dangerous to travel back.

Nightfall was fast approaching when they found a small plateau just beyond the cave entrance which allowed them to rest for a while. Taking the opportunity provided, many of the animals lay down to rest while Vantil prayed to Lantana, urging the Treemother to grant him victory this day. Prayers complete, Vantil felt refreshed and energized, his deity was with him and he felt empowered. The old druid moved about the plateau giving individual blessings and additional prayer for each of his woodland friends. Then he began casting spells upon himself. His skin took on the gnarled appearance of old oak bark and his staff began to glow softly with divine power. He would not be caught off guard this time.

“Rise my brothers.” Vantil said when his casting was complete. “Let us bring a swift death to those who prey on our home!”

With his force behind him Vantil marched back down the narrow trail to the cave entrance. Without hesitation he summoned a globe of light at the end of his staff to illuminate their way and plunged into the gaping mouth of the cave. They did not go far before the cave narrowed down into a large, surprisingly well cut, tunnel twice as tall as the centaur and half of that in width. The tunnel continued on a small decline and ended at a large, iron bound door.

On either side of the door stood a pair of freakishly large goblin guards dressed in well maintained black leather armor and brandishing gleaming spears. They had seen the druid’s light coming down the passage and were waiting for him. As soon as he noticed the guards they let fly their spears in unison. Their aim was true and their throws were strong but all of the missiles bounced harmlessly off of Vantil’s enchanted skin.

Their looks of surprise were expected but, when the flight of owls descended upon them the guard’s eyes went wider still. The owls circled, pecking and clawing at the faces of the goblins who; threw up their arms and flailed about trying to make space to maneuver. The guards were completely distracted by the swooping birds, their leader shouted orders in that same strange language that humans used trying to restore order to his troops. The wolves took advantage of the preoccupied goblins, rushing in to overwhelm the guards. Within minutes the passage was quiet again and four goblin guards lay next to two owls in a fast spreading pool of crimson. Vantil gazed upon the scene with a pang of remorse. How many more would have to die this day? He quickly rebounded from the loss though, reminded that this had to be done to prevent future tragedies within the forest.

Knowing that time was not their ally he moved up to the door and attempted to open it. Of course, it was locked. Turning quickly he motioned his friends away from the door then proceeded to throw all his considerable weight and strength into his rear legs, kicking out at the portal. It took several strikes but the door was no match for the centaur’s hooves. With a shower of splinters and shattered iron bands the door gave way.

*** *** *** *** ***

Boggrot and Uzed were privileged among their goblin brethren of the Bloody Fist tribe. Being strong and fierce brawlers they were rarely challenged or given daily responsibilities allowing them to wander the ancient dwarven halls the clan inhabited and act upon their whims. This was the case today as they meandered about the outer common area hassling their tribe mates and mooching food to fill their ever-hungry stomachs.

Satisfied with their take this evening the pair moved near the main door of the hall to dine on their spoils. For the most part nobody ever came near this area, partly because of the two bullies who often sat against the wall there but mostly due to the constant presence of the much more menacing Bloodfist guards on the other side of the door who were rotated every few hours. Regardless of why, the two thugs were happy to have their space, a commodity among the clan of nearly two thousand who crowded into this common area and the smaller tunnels deeper in the mountain. Once seated on the filthy debris covered floor the two quickly began haggling over their take.
“Hey, gimmie that!” Uzed demanded of his partner motioning to a half eaten stick of jerky. “I sawr it first!” He insisted.

“Yea, but I took it.” Boggrot stated flatly, not impressed by his companions claim.

“Well I’m tooking it from you!” Uzed yelled as he lunged at Boggrot who retracted the jerky and held up his other arm to fend off Uzed.

The two quickly became entangled in each others limbs grappling, shoving, and shouting at one-another. So engrossed in their own battle neither of them heard the screeching, growling and shouts on the other side of the door. It was only when the door they stood in front of boomed and shook within its frame that they paused. The noise was like that of a boulder slamming against the door and it reverberated throughout the large stone chamber. The general noise and chatter ceased and the hall fell silent.

Uzed and Boggrot stood quietly arms still entangled both of their flat green faces only inches apart, they turned heads in unison to stare at the door. Again something crashed against it causing dust and debris to shake loose from the wall. A third and fourth strike came to bear on the iron bound door and still the pair stood dumbly before it unable to will their legs to carry them out of harms way. Behind them in the common room three patrolling Bloodfist came running to investigate shouting for additional guards as they went. Somewhere in the chamber a horn sounded in alarm causing the goblins to stir. When the fifth strike hit the door the splintering portal finally gave way throwing shards of wood and broken iron like daggers. Uzed and Boggrot never did get to savor their last meal as they were showered in the jagged remains of the door. When the two hit the ground together, still locked in grapple, they looked much like large porcupines.

*** *** *** *** ***

As the door collapsed Vantil’s intuition told him to jump to the side. Several spears flew through the space he had occupied seconds ago and skipped down the passage. With a wave of his hand the forest beasts rushed past the hanging remnants of the door into the room beyond. Vantil followed right behind them, so far his plan was going well but they had to be careful not to get too tied up in the goblin complex. When he emerged on the other side of the door he quickly surveyed the scene. They were in a large antechamber which was quickly filling with defenders. Five other passages lead out of this room and from every one poured goblins, most of which were typical of their race but several of them were the brutish black and crimson clad variety. The forest creatures had immediately encountered resistance and were already in danger of being surrounded though, the sight of all these predators in their midst seemed to have the goblins uneasy.

As he was preparing to cast a spell upon his enemies Vantil was distracted by two distinct arrivals from the passage directly opposite him in the room. The first was a mysterious goblin, bent and wrinkled with age yet displaying rich crimson robes trimmed in fur and a long neck chord that rattled with many small bones. This individual held a long, ornately carved staff topped with a goblin skull and hid beneath the shadows of a deep cowl. The other figure was one the druid knew well, it was the goblin that had nearly killed him not long ago. The Bloodfist Captain surveyed the scene from his side of the room and immediately saw the centaur standing amidst the battling beasts. Their gazes met and locked, neither of them willing to show weakness. Hatred simmered in the druid’s stare as he watched Olrich reach up with a gauntleted hand and tapped his left eye. Giving Vantil an evil sneer the goblin turned and began bellowing orders.

An explosion of fury erupted from the old druid as he spat out his spell, hands gesturing wildly. The temperature in the room suddenly dropped and the breath of the laboring combatants could be seen in the air. The goblins did not seem to notice and continued to fight. Seconds later a white fog collected at the ceiling of the chamber swirling and writhing above their heads. The fog quickly condensed and sent a sudden storm of large hail stones the size of a large mans fist crashing into the goblins at the rear of the hall. Many died instantly; some were able to withstand the barrage but were severely injured. The only ones who seemed to escape without much injury seemed to be the larger armored goblins. For many heartbeats ice smashed into the ground pummeling the nasty monsters into broken and bloody heaps. The barrage of ice ended as abruptly as it started leaving the floor coated in frost and slippery with gore.

Terrified by the sudden show of magical might, many of the goblins who were able to broke ranks and began to flee- or tried too. The large Bloodfist troops began shouting to their smaller brethren and when some did not respond they were cut down by their superiors. Those who had thought of desertion quickly changed their minds. Vantil gave a high pitched whistle, the signal for his friends to run. Without hesitation those beasts that were able turned and fled back to the outside.

6 comments:

  1. Strange, this reminded me about something the DM and I talked about once. Taking back Orcenhome for the dwarves. It was just a small thing in passing. Nothing serious was ever said. Still...

    Good stuff sir, keep it coming.

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  2. I did not have any input from the dm on this one. I honestly don't even know much about Orcenhome but I hope that I am portraying it correctly. It is funny that it parallels, somewhat, things that were discussed in the past. This was not the planned ending for this entry, I just had to make a break somewhere. I'm hoping to have this little side adventure wrapped up soon and then in a few more entries I should be done with the Ademar Nightwalker story.

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  3. This was an extremely entertaining entry.

    Violence is difficult to put to prose and its something I struggle mightily with. Here you excel yet again, even when using unconventional combatants. Well done.

    I had a notion of Orcenhome long ago: It is a dark and scary place, full of all manner of nasties. To this day, it is run by the Nasty Orc-King Hengnobb. His ever-watchful bodguard, the black dragon: Regznofenxignettac, also known as "The Black Death" always at his side.

    Orcenhome is a big deal, especially to the dwarves. There is also the former dwarven capital city of Temberdor nearby. It was overrun by drow, but Gene and Mike released a curse that wiped out over a hundred thousand underdark beasties.

    It was awesome. Needless to say, Temberdor is empty as of now.

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  4. Thanks. I envisioned the Bloody Fist clan as an isolated group that stays hidden in a small former-dwarven guard post. Their complex is not much larger than what you read about here. They probably skirmish with Hengnobb's troops from time to time but have remained largely hidden from him.

    Not too surprised to hear that Gene and Mike would release a curse! That sounds like a good story too.

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  5. That must have been a hell of curse to do so much damage. Someone needs to tell of that tale, which I have not heard told. Is there a bard about anywhere? Oh Geeeeeeennnnnnnneeeeee.....

    Ademar, you have done very very well for yourself again.

    I admit that I really wanted to see more of Vantil, and see how he faired. Lets face it, and old druid centaur is cool. I was not disappointed. My thanks. The tale is great so far, and I am hoping it continues on with glory (and a lot of dead goblins). Once again, - I loved it.

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  6. I have about 1500 words on the final entry in Vantil's adventure written. I have another couple hours of work to do before it is done but it should be posted Monday if all goes well!

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