3. A great battle

A great battle


  • _It had all gone so fast… not at all like he remembered, for what that was worth.

    There was Jiyyd, the enormous band of people there, all preparing and planning, he had been too late to hear the exact orders.
    No matter, they were repeated often enough afterwards.
    He had felt nervous though, not frightened as he had the first time the crossbow was thrust into his hands, though something akin to it.

    He was to come along to defend the clerics during the hallowing.
    Behind him, Kael's familiar voice called out for archers to form a seperate group, which would fall in with the defenders.
    Only a few moments later, he was looking over his division...
    His division, Kael's initiative, and there was a strange understanding between him and Kael, but it was his division.

    A group of youngbloods, to be sure... a loud orc, looking like he never held a crossbow before, a young woman that wouldn't take orders, Shanr, the young acolyte, Quin, and him and Kael as seniors...
    Not Vine though, nor any of his friends... He wouldn't have dared to lead them if he was given the oppertunity.

    His division, his responsability.
    They would live, they would do their job well, he would show them how.

    Then came the march, falling in with the Legion, telling his men to stay behind the warriors and to let him and Kael handle the straglers that ran past their wall.
    Doubts crept up though, he was the youngest of the group.
    He had shrugged them off as they marched towards that clearing up high and they positioned themselves, but he had to shrug them off several times.
    Then the ritual came, and an ominous silence surrounded them.
    Not long after, the battle broke loose.

    It all became a blur, a decidedly fast moving blur.
    Arrows and bolts flying, metal singing as it hit metal, gnolls and allies screaming as metal hit flesh and rage flared.
    Lightning falling from the sky, spells being thrown every which way.
    And in the back of his mind, the constant praying and chanting of the priests.

    Even when the hallowing was done and the gnolls backed away, nothing was clear, nothing but surviving and making sure his men survived.
    The rest of the battle was worse.

    Now, it was all over, the storm had passed and he had lived. The others had, too.
    As he helped with getting rid of gnoll bodies, he looked towards a tree, his black and gold armor resting up against it, his crossbow unwinded stacked next to it.
    It was safe to do so... it was now._


  • _Arriving late, and proud to be part of the reinforcements, Pete joined along side the many friends to drive back the gnolls, dodge their axes and break them down into large dog piles of dead.

    A few more tense moments, while aiming to keep a few gnolls from penetrating the shield line to keep those archers and healers safe. Other tense times came when surrounded by a half dozen or more just to spring in and kill one of the lightning callers and out to safety. Another when the monstrous demons shed their power by casting numerous spells and their large weapons against us.

    The most terrifying moment was being slammed by the demon’s flaming blade and thrown from the bridge back amongst his friendly archers, with barely enough strength to scramble to his feet and get away from the monstrosity.

    Numerous times he heard the crack of electricity surge through the lines of the dogs as they screamed from the pain. The combination of arms and might, and determination held the day and rescued the camp.

    Quick to thank all those involved, before lounging in a stream to try to find the elf he loved, buried in the soot and gore of battle. The close by stream of the camp, bringing back many great memories, they bathed to wash their armor and restore some strength before the wagons were brought to help shuffle the gnolls into pyres to burn.

    Triumphantly those gathered returned with smiles and relaxation as the aftermath settled into peace and quiet in the woods._


  • Arriving late to the nest, the encampment of the heroes, Calendel quickly established himself as a willing participant. A member of the Legion he quickly notified his superiors of his arrival and available blessings he could bestow on some of the wounded soldiers, with Chauntea's good graces.

    The adventurers at this time were just heading out to capture the Gypsy Pass and make a push towards the camp. Calendel at first hung back, unsure of his abilities as he had not been involved in such a battle since the long ago Eastlanders War. Staying back with his well tuned bow, launching arrows, and providing healing to those in need that fell back from the front lines. When gnolls began to break through, Calendel switched to his new finely crafted Dolvak masterwork blade and shield and provided a wall of defense for the weaker bows behind him. Gaining confidence in his ability Calendel pushed forward soon joining in on the front lines to provide his assistance. With the blessings of Chauntea upon him and his commrades offering great protections the hero's pushed forward fighting horde after horde of gnoll warriors and shaman's. Eventually taking down the many demons providing aid. This was a bloody battle, for Calendel far more so than his roll in the Eastlander War - hanging back and watching hero's such as Grag roll through the defenders. In this war, Calendel stepped out of his coy shell slaying gnolls and demons alongside his Legion superiors such as General Lyte, Kull, and Pete Rione.

    So many brave fighters that day, many of which fell on the battlefield, stood together with a common goal…. the return of the camp to the rightful owners. Calendel still ponders, days after the battle how amazing it was to watch the leaders rally such brave warriors... to bring people like him out of their shells and turn them into heros! For those fallen, Calendel had tried to provide prayer for each individual hero that had passed onto the afterlife... but the realization that this would be impossible hit quickly. Calendel has sworn an oath that he will erect a memorial to all those soldiers that have recieved Chauntea's blessings in battle and lived or fell once he is able to erect his shrine.

    Walking back to the Legion Hall... the lonely journey on the Long Road, Calendel smiled as much he could to passing locals trying to hide the horror in his eyes at what he had witnessed. Images flashing through his mind, enough to terrorize a demon.... Cal could only travel so far before having to stop intermittantly to meditate and pray to the Harvest Mother as only this would calm his mind enough to continue along the road outstretched before him.

    Arriving in Jiyyd, Calendel packed away his weapons and bloodied helm, wet several rags and sat down by the cooking pot silently washing away the gore that clung to his Legion armour. Locals around him watching... whispering... Cal could hear them, understood their approvals and even the disapprovals at what has been done. Feeling something must be said he just looked around to them all and spoke few words....

    "It is done. The camp belongs to the Gnoll dogs no more."

    Calendel then returned to cleaning himself up, muttering silent prayers to Chauntea for his being still able to clean this armour after such a battle.

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    _Another, tall and reed thin elf in gore covered cresent moon armor moves smoothly along the camp. He trails from group to group. Visiting those who fought and those returning to their home. His tread if nothing else, shows his great fatigue, but still he takes the time to check on each of those who fought by his side. Those who he entrusted his life to while he prayed defenselessly during 12 hours of hallowing and those who entrusted theirs to him as they held the lines waiting as they fought bloody and battered for him to call loudly to Corellon in their aid.

    He murmurs soft words of thanks to them and expresses his pleasure at their success in his crisp common and fluid elven.

    His tired smile and the shinning joy seen in his eyes are almost contagous as he applies herbs, field dressings, wrappings and blessings to remove all sorts of ills placed on those who fought.

    He murmurs soft thanks over and over again as he walks to Corellon, the great protector of his people. He praises his gods intervention on their behave along with Selune.

    He passes the elven maid in the stream's water and smiles warmly, inclining his head in hard earned respect. He remembered her courage to stand by his side with only one other to hold the bridge against the gnoll masses while their lines were shattered by the demon.

    The charming elven cleric stays for some days observing and helping with the cleansing of the gnoll filth. During that time, many hear mention of his name being linked to an elven gathering, the Shesae en' i'Seldarine. Rumor spreads that their clerics fought and healed in the front lines with those of Selune and that two other respected members of their gathering fought to close the portal with Arandor.

    Aredhel Vell'cam A'seldor finally leaves after he is sure they are all healthy and have a good start in rebuilding. Everyday month or so the elf can be seen checking on the hallowing effect that rumor has it he placed with Nyda and Bryn._


  • I white haired man rests blood soaked with an equally soaked and exausted blond haired woman their armor loosened for some amount of comfort but uncaring as they sleep the morning away the smoke of burning gnolls rising to block the sunlight.

    After a time as night starts to fall the man wakes up aroused by something, he growls and draws his silver sword and rushes the random Undead that apear calling on some power from his right hand his sword starts to glow and the undead are struck down burning in divine flame.

    As the last one is felled he sighs looking about muttering, "There is still much to be done." He sighs and returns to his beloved by the fires.

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    _*As the last straggling gnoll is chased about the old Gypsy Camp, which now seems a battered ruin of a thousand and more gnoll corpses and shattered weaponry, an elven woman, competely covered in a glaze of dark red, drying bloody gore, except for her shining katana, slowly trudges past the bonfires burning the lifeless gnoll corpses.

    A human male, also hazed in red, accompanies her. Their identities are difficult to discern in their post battle condition, covered as they are in gnoll debris.

    The two pass along to the wide, shallow stream that passes through the camp. While gnoll bodies pollute it still, it seems far cleaner than they already are.

    The elven girl removes her helm to reveal an almost equally blood stained face, with only her large grey eyes betraying her actual qualities. Her hair is darkly matted, as if she has actually been immersed in some bloody dark pool.

    She stands in the stream, tossing her helm into the water. Drawing her katana, with two hands she lowers the blade into it's depths, saying some words quietly in elvish, with head bowed. A soft white-yellow light, like sunlight through leaf laden trees, momentarily lights the girl, and then she plops to the stream bed on her butt, obviously exhausted.

    The man washes his face, and sits on the bank tiredly, watching her, smiling slightly.

    Laying back in the shallow stream, she lets it's waters wash her, apparently too tired to remove the heavy plate.

    She thinks of the extreme heroism she has witnessed these past few days…of her legion brothers firm stands, of the tens of thousands of arrows that the gypsys and wolves and other friends fired, cutting down countless gnoll shamans before they could electricute herself or the other shields...of the watchful clerics who so ably kept all afoot, and of the clever use of fireballs, confusion and counterspells of the mages accompanying them.

    She ponders that moment of doubt, when a huge demon broke through the shields, sending men and gnolls alike flying off the bridge into the crevasses, with most of the remaining force chasing the demon, leaving three shields to hold against an army before them.

    Only together, with great resolve, could these people have accomplished so much.

    A thousand gnolls. Eight, ten of the big demons they had all faced together.

    Feeling somewhat more like an elf again, the girl tiredly surveyed the wreckage of what was once the casual, woodsy Gypsy Camp of warm fires and neatly piled wood and tents and tree-homes.

    "They will start anew,", she thinks, "and we who helped fight this day beside them will have a place to come and visit and we shall share new fires with our friends."

    The elven girl leaned against the man she loved smiling slightly, noting he was fast asleep, there on the stream's bank. She looked up, and saw that the stars shined bright.

    It was good to be alive.*_


  • _The great battle is over. blod stained wepons lie around cover nearly every part of old romani camp. Feew of the fighters standing on the side is talking calmy… while taking care of theyr woods. Some others loot the bodies and clear the land of them. Also around can be seen black skined man, wizard wicth is casting here and there ilusion spells showing flowers and green grass to cover the blod stainewd earth. It is certain that earth with inn the camp will remain blood red for a while. But you want see it...

    Thank to outstanding heroism of many people gypsy camp is free once more.. lets hope that for good this time_

    Dante Sirgelson - Old dated Legion fighter
    Mard Detson - nearly neutral mage

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    ((Just the bridge fight alone was awesome! he adds remembering the overwhelming forces trying to take over the bridge and brave souls fending them off How the heck did we live through that??))

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    Alvar Blackwood looks around the smouldering camp and sighs a long awaited sigh of relief. He tells any who ask about the great battle and how well planned it was. As part of the diversionary efforts, he explains that every inch of ground reclaimed was paid for in blood. Literally thousands of Gnolls ((probably literally hundreds game engine-wise)) were slaughtered. Fierce demons were slain ((ugh those were hard!)). In the end, thanks to the gods themselves, everything worked out ((in other words KUDOS DMs, this event was one for the books!)).

    He agrees with the others that now is a time of rebuilding and then shrugs those lines of questioning off. Instead, he sits, a small grin upon his face, and warms his hands by the fires that once again light the land.

    ((Awesome event worthy of the Gypsy Camp. Thanks DMs and everyone who took part. Especially thanks to those in our group who helped each other stay alive. Great team effort! Seemed everytime I thought someone was going down, fighters were there to kill the Gnolls and clerics where there healing the wounded. Good job all around!))


  • _Word quickly spreads of a victory hard-fought at the camp… The Gnoll Priestess known as Khag was slain in the ruins northwest. Slain by a man named Arandor, former Elder among the Romani who once dwelt in those lands.

    The portal allowing for Yeenoghu's influence into the material plane was sealed by the Priests Mecziq, Shannon D'Arneau, and the Priestess Amissa Lee. The summoning altar destroyed by a hammer blessed with Mystra's divine grace. The destruction of that altar was said to have caused such an explosion as to rock the earth and nearly kill those standing near.

    Shortly afterwards, the Gnolls broke and fled from the battle taking place outside of the ruins. Routed to the caves, where they scattered, and now hide...

    Among the names mentioned for aiding in the ambush are the Wolves of Narfell, Eluriel, Philomena, and the leader of the pack Tala, all helping to guide the others safely through the cave passage. Jerr, Skald of the Nars, Nicahh of the Sisterhood, The halfling called 'Gears', the bard Meril, Archdruidess Fadia, and the Arcanist Genzir. It is clear that the victory at the camp belongs to many, not just one...

    Nonetheless, it is also clear that much work is still left to be done. The bodies of Gnolls scattered throughout, the wagons piled high, the pyres burning endlessly. The stench that fills the air is strong. The smell of Victory as some have taken to calling it..._

    ((OOC: Want to thank Chaos Nymph for sticking with us and for bringing this plot to a close. Kudos as well to LD who also stuck with us and helped bring this to an end 🙂 Couldn't have turned out better short of a few deaths, but that much has to be expected in an event like this. Looking forward to rebuilding and seeing where we go from there. Sorry if I missed any names from our party, I felt all deserved a mention for their efforts. Hope to see you all at the new camp soon.))

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    I would like to lend my voice to all those who have stated that that was a superior event. Though it is my first major event I thought that it was executed well and fluid. Thank you for making my heart pound and blood race. I am grateful I had the chance to participate in it as well as with all those who did so as well. I was more then fun .

    Grimm


  • Private Erugdish Greikoos walks up to the camp, holding a map and looking at it upside down.

    "Errrr….ummmmmm looks around at the dead gnolls is this be place of big nasty gnoll battle? Maybe Erugdish be gets lost he does because map be stoopid that what he be doeser of...."

    //OOC Sorry I wasn't there, wish I was, but I'm at my mums (still am for an hour)