Of Beetles and Bogarts
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_Tragedy strikes the Silver Valley as the goblin horde and their vicious beetles descend upon the smallfolk in full force, in hundreds upon hundreds, slashing, tearing, rending. A series of thundering explosions echo all the way to Norwick as the suicide beetles reach their destination, detonating keg after keg. Screams of pain soon follow, audible even over the din of battle.
Rumour has it only three adventurers were quick enough to get through the mass of goblins swarming in the Misty Pond area to help with the first assault - a fearless dwarven Legionaire, a Peltarch Defender and an unarmed fighter in green.
The latter two made it into the Valley proper, faced with scenes of sheer carnage as panicking halflings and gnomes attempted to flee scorching fire, blades, arrows and tearing beetle jaws. Fighting desperately, the two long-legged women managed to clear the throng, joined at the last moment by well-known wily ranger Rasuil.
But the armies of the enemy seem all but endless. Goblins and beetles of all kinds kept coming, pouring out of the woods in wave after wave, screeching and howling. Only the arrival of more adventurers, finally managing to cut through to the isolated few in front, saw the tide of battle halted, if not turned, after hard and heavy fighting.
As bodies piled thick on the grasses near the Misty Pond, however, the invaders made their way back inside the Silver Valley, now bereft of anything near a defence. The persuing adventurers were met with gleeful taunts, though the greenskins inside may soon have regretted it as the dwarven Legionaire amongst them cursed and stormed inside, followed by the rest.
The all but suicidal charge saw the last few survivors rescued from the Valley, the refugees now huddled inside Norwick's walls while smoke rises from the distant Silver Valley, along with the victorious cheers and shouts of hundreds of goblin voices…_
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_In the midst of a fresh assault on Norwick's hard pressed defences, the cavalry arrives in a blaze of shining gold and flashing steel. Sir Rath Ashald, knight of the Divine Shield and champion of Siamorphe, took the frontline of battle on his magnificent steed Aspera, bringing fresh courage to Norwick's defenders.
As the beetles and goblins were pushed down the hill and the gates retaken, a ragged cheer went up amongst those still standing. Though screams from the eastern farmsteads cut the victory celebrations short. A giant stag beetle had separated from the herde, tearing through livestock and killing the little milkmaid Eliza before help could arrive.
Rumour has it the good sir Rath donated a hefty sum of gold to the girl's grandfather, enough for a full resurrection if the gods see fit to return her._
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_With the lack of assaults over the past fortnight, the former militia Commander has taken advantage of the reprieve and spent each day holding several melee training courses for all skill levels at the fairgrounds. Participants are expected to bring their own weapon of choice, though may loan from her personal arsenal for the duration of the class.
Outside of her training, she often frequents Ras' seminars, overseeing their progress and taking a keen interest in the ballista and catapult crews, counting out their time to reload and nodding her approval, though encourages them to shave off one second (or more) over the next week.
When not honing the guards prowess in combat she is often inspecting the defenses, stopping now and then to assist with repairs to the walls and gates and setting up cover for the archers posted on the hills, even if just barrels filled with sand to shelter from enemy arrows.
While there is no official word of formalities having been taken to appoint her to her former position, she certainly seems to have stepped into those shoes with stride._
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((DM please remove this if not appropriate since I am not writing from my players perspective))
((And players please read it from any goblin dialect or perspective you want))“Watchers report”
The drums beat the cadence of war. And so invisible I move forward to record the events of the taking of our prize. The drums beat life to the tribes and death to the takers. The troops pour forth eagerly awaiting the assault, to break the walls, to hear the screams of the dying and to claim their bounty.
As I move ahead, the walls come into sight, the walls that stood against the last assault. The gates are open and in them stand the warrior, the archer and the priest. Tales of the three had been squelched..throats of survivors sacrificed to the good of the troops. But I am uneasy as the three stand and listen to our drums. Appearing now and then I see the scouts with whispered words and then they fade into the night. The Unbroken Blade, the Scything Arrow and the White Wraith. The names forbidden to mention. The drums grow stronger and the ground shakes with the tramping of the great army, yet they stand and wait, gate open like welcoming arms. But then I look on our advancing army and thoughts of unease fade as the first skirmishers appear.
Night drops and the blooded ones scream their battle cries and charge the gates and the few that stand there. And from the dark skies nets drop from the air. On the ridges I see men manning the large weapons, heavy bolts unleashed into the air and springing open to entangle the troops. But we are too many and they only proved and inconvenience. Our squares of archers began moving up and hailing the defenders with arrow fire. More bolts fly from the ballistas and this time fire and explosions dot the night, screams of pain and anger rise from the troops and they scatter to the sides, opening the way for the Bashers. They were followed by the Flames and suddenly we took the initiative. They lumber forward, our troops using them for cover, and suddenly we are inside the first gate.
The Blade bent but would not break and rallied the foes against us. The Wraith unleashed his magics and his blade against us and the Arrow rained fire down upon us but our troops had the anger to overcome this. The very elements were unleashed inside those walls as acid, fire and lighting raged among the troops. The bashers went into a frenzy, driving the takers ever back. Seeing this our troops gathered and surged forward, while still more poured up from the south, the drums driving the hearts and rage of our people.
We drove them back to the second gate but they would not give and the takers on the ridges rained arrow fire down upon us. The Blade surged back, supported by its followers and retook the ground lost, but ours had seen the weakness, and we drove more of the Bashers forward. Dozens of them stormed the entry followed by heavy fighting units and more archers. The brotherhood moved among them healing the heavy units and Bashers, and unleashing their might upon the takers. And we surged forward again to the second gate. Stones rained from the sky and another priest joined the fray on the enemies side. A small figure but mighty, he fought like the Wraith, magics and blade. Warriors of the takers came down form the hills but we poured more troops and Bashers and into the space, making it nearly impossible for the enemy to get amongst us.
We made the second gate and Bashers and supporting troops surged for the final rise and the open town beyond. It was then that the dwarves came over the rise. Without heed, and with axe and hammer they took the top of the rise and began their march down. It was at this point that I saw the tide turn. For those on the field of battle they could not tell and the final strength of our units was poured out like blood on thirsty soil. The units did not give ground, they were simply crushed where they fought. The Blade rallied its troops and supporters and the gates were retaken one after the other. Our tide of troops dwindled and quiet took the lands. As I moved away from the walls our dead were tossed onto a huge pile. I saw the scouts moving among them, slitting throats of any that may have survived and looting their bodies. They are worse than animals, the takers, unheeding of their foe and friend.
These words will be sealed and sent to the commander. They will be the last words I write for I know my fate for recording them. Use this my bretherin and plan well your next actions.
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_More assaults follow, scores upon scores of goblins and beetles howling and screeching as they descend upon the defenders. Though the new defences decimate many attackers, several beetles once again break through to wreak havoc inside Norwick proper, one even rampaging as far as the lumber yard to kill one of the workers.
As the ragged, barely victorious defenders returned to the gates, another wave of goblins followed from direction of the Misty Pond, supported by a large pack of wolves, including some very large dire ones. Have all the Rawlins decided to join the party?_
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After a long absence, the crafter and farmer known simply as "Z" returns. Another blade to help in the defense of Norwick.
What's all this talk 'bout bugs attackin' the town…? By the grace o' the Earthmother, Chauntea, we're gonna put a stop ta this...
Z (pronounce Zee not Zed), storms off to get the scoop. :x
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_Another series of attacks take their toll upon the town. While under Rasuil's assumed command the archers and siege weapons focused massive losses upon their assailants, who's numbers were at their highest seen yet, the gates were breached yet again causing further damage to the Temple of Chauntea and the archer columns were devastated by hordes of goblin bows and grenadiers.
The old Wolf can be seen splitting his time between visits to the Temple to offer his prayers to the House of Nature in Yllalyn's name, who was grievously injured in the attack, and continuing to assess damages, modify defenses and refine the archers attending his sessions.
Later he can be seen commending a few of the guards stationed and speaking with the former Redcloak Commander Albryanna, who took charge of the field in the latest of attacks and led it to it's greatest defense with not a single enemy making it beyond the hills crest. With the guards collective cheer ringing out at their victory, morale amongst the towns defenders is noticeably on the rise once again.
Has the sly old Wolf convinced their Commander back? Has the tide finally turned for the townsfolk? Will these attacks ever end?
Only time would tell.._
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_Nica, meanwhile, seems to have sniffed the opposite of pixie dust, the most recent wave of attacks having taken a toll on the blonde, who doesn't even appear to defend her boxing title at Fight Night (gasp!). Instead, a visibly weary Nica offers to help out at the temple of Chauntea, cleaning up, setting broken bones and dressing wounds, while discreetly making enquiries about the fallen. What were their names, did they have families and would they accept attempts at resurrection if provided?
While the living come first, it's clear that the rising death count is getting harder and harder to bear for this less hardened volunteer defender.
When not at the gates or the healers, Nica pays a series of visits to the Silver Valley, seeking out tinkering gnomes, trap-makers and inventors in particular._
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_While Rasuil comes and goes much as he always has, lately his stays in town have been far more diverse than his regular watch atop Deathtrap Tower at the southern gates.
Following the latest wave of attacks, the old Wolf can be seen assessing and aiding with the damage to the temple of Chauntea, as well as continuing to deliver general "orders" to the Redcloaks in the guise of sound suggestions - including adding two shields per side in reserve atop the cliffs to stand with the archers in the event the walls are scaled again, preparing vats of grease to add to the cliff sides to stave off further such attempts, as well as directing the archers to concentrate their fire upon one target at a time in future engagements.
He also takes it upon himself to assure the ballista is properly maintained and points out the ideal placements for the remaining siege gear, high atop the cliffs and well north of the archer placements where both range and spotters field of view are maximized.
Over the following days the accomplished ranger also holds both basic and advanced archery training, for Redcloak and citizen alike, and at no cost gasp. While he expects that any attending Redcloak provide their own weapon, to those citizens who are without he provides a practical oak bow (or crossbow at their request, though it comes with a dirty look, also free) to learn with, returned to him at the end of the session unless purchased. Using one of the burnt out carcasses from the previous battle to denote their few physical weak points, his lessons range from basic care and handling of ranged weapons, to tracking and successfully hitting a moving target - with a brief aside to cover the merits of situational awareness and the perils of friendly fire.
One may wonder at this rate if he has risen to the cry for leadership among the militia despite his own grumblings. While never having held a position within their ranks, his vast experience in the towns defense and time proven tactics among some of their largest sieges in the past are well known among its members.
Nah.. he's probably just sniffing pixie dust again. It'll likely wear off in a few days, so get your free lessons from this Fight Night legend while you can!_
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María travels often between her tower and the southgate. Kitty can be seen at her side, lazily dragging himself along. While she doesn't really keep watch or anything, she just sits and starts reading books over there, just in case something happens.
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_The ever introverted lightning mage keeps quietly to himself atop the hills adjacent the southern gates, waiting expectantly for the next swarm of beetles, bugs, and goblins to flood across the plains. Every few hours he retreats to the fire to join his friends, using the time to rest his weary eyes.
He can often be heard murmuring to himself, continuously practicing to improve and learn new spells. Oddly enough, he's been taking a keen interest in any critters that wander nearby, focusing intently on them until they scurry off.
Does that badger look bigger?_
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_The local forest witch known as Elaine doesn't seem to be up for keeping watch, and doesn't even appear to care about those that lost their families or homes to the goblins all that much. Not very surprising, considering she's been heard saying things such as "in life you adapt or die" or "those who can't survive by themselves just hold back Nature and natural evolution". At times she is hanging around with her friends by the south gates but as soon as battle rages on she just vanishes from sight. There are murmurs of discontent pointing out that it was her who drew the goblins and bugs to Norwick in the latest, devastating assault, and she used the town and the guard's lives to not risk her own. But then no flashy fireballs came from her fingertips to destroy the goblins, and for someone coming from a lineage of shape-shifters and rumoured to be a prominent shape-shifter herself, no local folk remember ever seeing her changing into any powerful shape and charging the battleground to wipe the goblins out.
Why doesn't she just turn into a giant salamander to burn and eat all the goblins? Why doesn't she transform them all into solid stone, like she does to the goblins that trespass the area of the forest that she has claimed as her territory? Why doesn't she brew up some kind of concoction or curse to turn all the goblins into mushrooms or toadstools?
While the problems of the Norwickians are far more important than wondering whether this particular witch decides to be helpful or not, it may seem plausible that some folks in their desperation may be looking in disappointment at how Jerrick's daughter inherited tremendous powers, but apparently not the will to use them for a good cause. At least for those that consider that saving Norwick is a good cause._
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_Dwarven Legionnaire Corporal Legan Axckleln is also standing guard on the southern gates. His axe culling many a goblin that dares approach the town he chose to protect.
At the same time, Spellweaver Professor Salin Ashald is seen providing whatever support he can to the victims of the recent goblin attacks, giving them food and water, and appeasing the children with a few cantrip demonstrations._
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_With ever quick feet and watchful eyes, the green-clad unarmed fighter known as Nica is a steady presence in and around town. She gives no rallying speeches, offers little advice or sweet soothing words, but she's there, day in and day out, fighting alongside her friends and allies or helping out with basic field medicin.
Whatever horrors are coming, for whatever her presence is worth, it seems Nica is determined to see it through._
