16th of Eleasis (Highsun) – Summer 1486
Location: Goldenfields
The moon was starting to set and the first grey of pre-dawn was forming to the east as clanging alarm bells rang out into the night. Half pushing, half threatening their captive Ogg the Hill Giant, the party proceeded quickly from the scene of one battle directly towards the Southern wall of Goldenfields where it seemed another awaited them. The giant oaf continued babbling and bawling about his wife Chief Guh and how angry she was going to be with him when he got home to Grudd Haug. Pinko noted rows of torchlight were being arranged along the top of the wall with surprising precision given Seeps’ summary of the Guard Captain Strog’s abilities. A commanding female voice barked orders that carried clear across the wheat fields daring to be disobeyed as the Mickale Trio, their local companions Shalvis and Miros, and their captive giant Ogg came within bow shot of the Goldenfields defensive line.
A guttural alien bellow emanated from the far side of the wall followed by a series of sharp metallic clicks and then oddly, high-pitched screams filled the night. A barrage of spikey projectiles sailed into view as Smacky’s battle sense kicked in. “Hit da duuurt!” he cried as he flung himself to the ground. The entire group took the hint, except for Ogg who copped a direct hit to his chest sending him into blind rage charging towards the wall and screaming at the top of his injured lungs. This racquet roused the guards on the wall who, if surprised to see a Hill Giant on the inside of the walls, at least had the wit about themselves to open fire immediately, peppering the lumbering threat with a hail of arrows. Ogg’s charge slowed, he stopped, wobbled, and then collapsed backwards as the realisation that he was, in fact, dead, reached his tiny brain and therefore materialised into his now extinguished reality.
Smacky was the first to reach the huge corpse and take note of what looked like a spiked metal ball filled with what used to be a goblin protruding from the recently departed Ogg’s chest. While trying to make sense of this scene the answer came to Smacky in the form of another shrieking cry from above. He deftly took half a step to the left as the goblin wearing a similarly vicious helmet ploughed into the road directly where he’d been standing half a second before. This one somehow managed to survive the impact just long enough for Smacks to drag him from the mud, look up towards the sky, back at Ogg, back to the sky, back to the goblin, and finally towards his friends who had just caught up. “Is rain’n grots!” he proudly proclaimed, holding his semi-conscious prize aloft in one hand and pointing his warhammer to the swiftly lightening sky with the other.
Cockseepage wandered over with a little smile and a look in her eyes that even the goblin who had volunteered to be catapulted over a wall found disturbing. She knocked on his helmet three times with the butt of her whip. Satisfied with the sharp metallic ring the action elicited she planted her palm between the pointy protrusions and unleashed a Shocking Grasp. The crackling electricity firstly fried the unfortunate goblin's brain and secondly zapped Smacky’s hand something nasty as he dropped his prize a split second too late. Before the barbarian and warlock could get into another argument over 'correct prisoner interrogation etiquette', Pinko pointed to some stairs leading up to battlements where now green cloaked figures were returning fire to the unseen assailants below. “Smacksnaga! Let it go! Seepage stop teasing him! Want to kill things other than each other? Then let us get to the action, whatever is on the other side of that wall will keep you more entertained than bickering between yourselves!” He didn’t wait to see if his friends took the hint, but a comforting slap on the back from Shalvis and the warm, slightly manic guffaws from Miros who jogged along beside him at least let him know he wasn’t charging alone to his death by joining the defenders on the battlements.
Three things greeted the Druid as he reached the top of the flagstone steps. Firstly, Zi Liang, the monk who guided them around Goldenfields two days ago was found to be the surprising source of the stern commands obviously directing the defensive efforts on this part of the wall. Secondly, three groups of a dozen elven scouts were arrayed along the crenellations taking turns to rain arrows into the misty clearing a mere twenty feet or so below. Finally, the strong smell of scores of unwashed goblinoid bodies being carried on the breeze as the morning sun began to warm and illuminate a veritable army of the bastards charging towards the walls while the ageing stones and mortar rattled ominously from the vibrations of no fewer than four male Hill Giants bringing up the rear of the assault.
Well, not quite the rear. Highlighted by the fact they were not moving among the sea of chaotically frantic goblins and bugbears, were six ogres with what looked like clumsy make-shift catapults strapped to their backs. Beside them was an unusually orderly line of goblins, each sporting a wickedly spiked metal helmet and a dagger in each hand. The ogre pulled a chain on their right arm which lowered the basket, the goblin would jump in, and a moment later a swift tug on the opposite chain in their left hand sent the kamikaze payload sailing through the air towards the line of archers on the walls. Thankfully, thought Pinko, they were horribly inaccurate, but the disconcerting wail that accompanied each missile was enough to distract the otherwise steady bow-fire for a few moments per goblin volley. This he noticed allowed the ground troops to advance unimpeded for a few precious seconds. Already a wave of goblin warriors had reached the base of the wall and were ineffectually attempting to climb as rocks were dropped on their heads from above.
Assessing the situation, and witnessing one lucky goblin-shot crush and impale a young elven bowman, Pinko summoned two grey wolves directly on the grass below and set them on task to take out those flesh-mortars. He then dashed toward Zi Liang to get a picture of her battle plan. “Do not die.” She stoically delivered as her first piece of advice. When this didn’t seem to fulfil Pink’s inquiry she proceeded to explain there was a secret postern gate behind the corner tower that could be used to access the killing field, but she intended to keep her troops high on the walls. “Is there anyone else coming?” Pinko implored as Zi grabbed his shoulder and pushed him behind cover as the tinkling of goblin short bow arrows colliding with the wall resonated beside them. “Not before they do!” she grunted, pointing across the battlefield to where the four Hill Giants were already almost halfway from the forest eves to the wall.
“Yippee!” cried Cockseepage as she summited the stairs, fists already glowing with pulsing purple radiance in anticipation of much death and slaughter. Ignoring Pinko and Zi’s rushed strategic conversation, she dashed along the top of the wall firing Eccy Blasts at the giants each time she passed an opening in the crenellations. Looking down with some sadness at his currently useless magic warhammer Bluntrosethorn, Smacky sighed, slung it into its leather thong on his back and drew his longbow instead. Taunting the Giants and daring them to come closer despite them seeming bent on doing exactly that, Smacks was surprised when Pinko popped up beside him also brandishing his yew-wood bow. Having rarely witnessed Pinko rely on such mundane methods, Smacky was rather impressed to see him handle the large weapon with all the grace and finesse typical to his Wood Elf kin. Between shots, Pinks noticed the odd look from his barbarian friend and mumbled something along the lines of “Spells won’t reach that far” through gritted teeth.
Darting between the rocky outcrops flanking the Northern rim of the battlefield Pinko’s wolves came into 'pounce' range of two of the Ogres with goblin chuckers on their backs. The machinery made the Ogres even more cumbersome than usual, but their blows were no less deadly as they swung the whole apparatus around like a giant club. The nimble wolves seemed to be running circles around their slower opponents, delivering precise bites to their exposed legs and ankles. As they felled one brute and tore out its throat, the ammunition-goblins who had been lining up a few yards away ironically rallied and charged in to defend the purveyors of their imminent demise. As the snarls faded and lupine yelps were brutally cut short, an orderly line re-formed behind the surviving ogre-pult and soon the rhythmic mechanical TWANG resumed its grim cadence.
Pinko felt rather than saw his woodland companions fall. Enraged and noticing one of the giants a few strides ahead of its fellows he directed the group of Scouts nearest him to concentrate fire on that target. A single sheet of arrows was loosed a moment later, puncturing the creature who tried to swat ineffectually at flies that had already stung. Seizing the moment to seal the deal, Smacky paused his frantic firing, took careful aim, and buried the coup-de-gras through the giant’s left eye all the way to the fletching. The almighty crash as the huge lardball succumbed to gravity took several goblins out for good measure. As more gathered to gawk at the sight and help pull out their pinned fellows, an ear-splitting Shatter erupted in the centre of them instantly sending a spray of red and green goblin bits in a crater-like pattern right at the base of the wall, disabling a bugbear as collateral damage and rocking the stonework hard enough to cause half a dozen defenders to temporarily lose their footing. “What?!” ask Seepage incredulously to the stares that fell in her direction from the floor. “You’d rather I didn’t splatter all the little bastards?!”
The battle intensified as the press on bodies neared the wall, now pockmarked by the unconventional artillery. A shout of triumph rose from the Southern end of the battlement as a second Hill Giant fell to dozens of arrows and bolts and a few of the Orge-pults ran out of willing "volunteers". Pinko couldn’t help but notice at that moment that Shalvis had been badly injured, Miros’ ancient heavy crossbow had snapped and the number of defenders around Zi had dwindled significantly as the maimed and slain were carried away down the stairs by the porters. The once fully stocked barrels of arrows and stones that were spaced along the defensive line were also beginning to look dangerously bare. At least the attackers were now in close enough proximity that he could ditch his own bow and unleash flaming cantrips instead. None of the assault troops had yet managed to gain a foothold on the top of the wall. It was curious. They carried no ladders, ropes or hooks. Though not a difficult climb any goblin who attempted it was swiftly dispatched and the bugbears seemed content to take cover behind the piles of dead and hurl javelins at anyone who stuck their head out for more than a bowshot second. As the last two giants go close enough to see the sunspots on the top of their balding pates, Pinko watched one suddenly duck down low, scoop up an armful of cheering bugbears and grant him the horrifying answer to his unspoken question of exactly how the hell they expected to win this seemingly suicidal assault and why the giants had not been carrying any weapons.
Goldenfields walls stood a mere four or five feet taller than the humanoid cranes who were now camped just outside them, lifting fists full of goblin and bugbear attackers easily onto the parapet. “Swords!” came the order from Zi, despite her own reliance on a simple wooden staff which she wielded with practised grace to unbalance recently landed threats and send them toppling back over the wall. Smacky was strangely buoyed by this turn of events, finally getting the chance to unleash Bluntrosethorn in earnest and bounded into where the fighting was thickest. Hanging to the rear as elves brushed past her with dual shortswords drawn, Cockseepage took a moment to take in the carnage of the battle. She couldn’t remember when she’d last been happier. This feeling came from deep within and she allowed it to flow through her, and specifically into her whip. Uttering her Hexblades Curse in the Infernal tongue towards the closest giant she lashed out, grabbing hold of its left wrist and yanking back hard. This not only caused the surprised dope to drop the Bugbear he was currently raising, but also to look squarely in her direction. She winked at him, flicked her wrist and shot a beam of pure eldritch energy into his fleshy third chin which bubbled, smoked, combusted and very satisfactorily began to melt the giant's face off.
Two bugbears chuckled as they backed an unarmed Pinko of Neverwash against the cold stone barricade. This confidence faded abruptly as the lithe and pasty, if rather filthy, form of the druid slowly began to sprout thick brown fur, six-inch-long fangs and about 300kgs of bulk. As he crushed their skulls between his teeth, Bear-Pinko pondered the philosophical dilemma of whether embodying a beast of the woods to eviscerate his enemies was more or less ethical than summoning simple claws of Primal Savagery to similar ends. His reverie was broken by Smacky charging like a maniac up the outstretched arm of the final giant that was attempting to pull chunks of masonry off the wall. Leaping into the air Smacks brought his hammer down over his head with both hands, crowning the giant with a blow that succeeded in his ambition to bring this conflict to an end, while simultaneously highlighting the fact that Smacky hadn’t thought through the basic physics of his plan to its natural conclusion. As he picked himself up out of the pile of dead goblins that had luckily broken his fall, he was just in time to see the last survivors of the assault on Goldenfields flee the field of battle having lost the four largest of their number and any desire to pursue their obscure objectives.
Smacksnaga gave two big "Thumbs Up" while beaming with delight at his companions and the surviving defenders of Goldenfields who were now looking down on him from the battlements. Pinko smiled back, glad the half-orc was not yet dead, but also shaking his head. It was not in disbelief, he'd come to expect this sort of thing from the barbarian, it was more general disapproval of such rashness though he knew it to be part of Smacky's nature. Seepage provided an enthusiastic golf clap as a means of expressing her most hearty approval of the very same behaviour. Everyone else was just exhausted and glad to be alive themselves.
Next Episode: The Needs of the People
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