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Story Hour
The Fall of Civilization
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 4787872" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>“...and then the brownie told us that we could transition back to the real world- our world, that is- by going back into that hollow at noon. At midnight, it worldfalls into the Feywild, and at noon it worldfalls back into the world.”</p><p></p><p>“I see.” Colonel Jaxe drums his fingers on his desk. “Worldfalls, eh?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, sir.” Ligir explains, “A worldfall is a phenomenon that results in a crossing of the worlds.” </p><p></p><p>“So I gather,” Jaxe answers dryly. “Well. Well done, men, even if you couldn’t bring him back alive. At least the Hand won’t get his knowledge- and it sounds as though they were trying.” He stands up, clasping his hands behind his back. “The Hand is only days away. There is no time for you to rest, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for all that you have done. I hope you are ready for what comes next.”</p><p></p><p>“And what is that, sir?” Vann-La queries. </p><p></p><p>“Total war,” replies Colonel Jaxe.</p><p></p><p>Into the heavy silence, Heimall asks, “How much time do we have, sir?”</p><p></p><p>“Four days. Enough time to get to know the units that you’ll be building and to dig some fortifications.”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The Six-Fingered Hand is on the march. Scouts gallop out from Fandelose, dust swirling behind them as they go to gauge the oncoming forces. Back and forth, a constant stream of eyes, seeing and then relating what they have seen to General Argos. </p><p></p><p><em>They come.</em> </p><p></p><p>Harried by the warforged, slowed by what long-range light cavalry Argos can spare to distract the oncoming force, the horde extends in a seething mass as far as the scouts can see. How many? Thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands- none can say. More than they could see.</p><p></p><p>In the city, the last frantic days before the enemy arrives are abuzz with activity. Supplies are cached where they will do the most good; the farms outside the walls are fired, the wells poisoned. Last minute arrangements are made with the dwarves, as well as those warforged within the city or able to retreat within it before the horde hits. </p><p></p><p>They come, numberless in their masses. </p><p></p><p>It is clear that it will come to a siege. General Argos has known that for over a year. His forces are too few for a pitched battle in the field to spell anything but disaster. The enemy is led by a hobgoblin named Heshwat the Eviscerator, and it is said that in the van of the enemy column a group of wagons holds tall poles, on which are stretched living prisoners, their intestines spilling down and trailing behind the wagon, torn and stretched by countless stomping boots and churning wheels. When one of the screaming victims finally dies, a new one is bound in place and his or her belly slit open. </p><p></p><p>The land outside the city has been prepared, with wooden spikes, trenches and moats dug and filled. One approach only is open to the killing field surrounding Fandelose itself, up the trade road that leads past the Black Gorge. A great triple gate waits, each one open for the moment. Before this, our heroes have drawn up, each in command of a company of 100 soldiers. Iggy commands Scorpion Company, from the Imperial Sixth Legion. They are a company of archers. Kratos has been given command of the Granite Wedge, a group of dwarves from the operation in the gorge. Captain Nordek Stoneweight is the dwarven leader, but he is happy to put himself under Kratos’ command in order to fully integrate the dwarves and their deadly trap with General Argos’ battle plan. Torinn enthusiastically takes command of a group of 100 warforged soldiers that have seconded themselves to the general. They are called Delta Squadron, and Torinn’s subcommander is named TRS-80. Interestingly, one of the warforged in the unit is of a somewhat different design than the others; it claims to be older, from an earlier run of warforged, and originally defended a different area, but its memories of that time are mostly overwritten. Its name is P-38. The others are given control of four companies of Imperial pikemen- Viper Company under Loridell (who has accepted a field commission), Raptor Company under Hkatha, Tiger Company under Heimall and Bear Company under Vann-la. </p><p></p><p>The enemy will have to advance up a relatively narrow raised road that approaches the city. The plains to either side of the road would require significant climbing across the fortifications to attain the killing field surrounding the city. To the city’s north, the Black Gorge cuts access to Fandelose for several miles. </p><p></p><p>It also serves as the location of a most cunning dwarven trap- if enough enemies can be lured into the Gorge to warrant using it.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>9 a.m. Dust in the distance. </p><p></p><p>The warforged and Bear Company deploy to the south, in the plains below the road. If they move far enough forward, they may be able to take the enemies in the flank. The archers in the middle, the pikemen forward and as a rear guard. The dwarves remain just ahead of the turnoff into the Black Gorge on the road.</p><p></p><p>The entire horizon is obliterated beneath an obscuring mist of dust by 9:30. Distant sound- a tremendous number of feet on the move- carries far, echoing from the peaks behind the field of coming battle. Coming closer and closer.</p><p></p><p>The last of the scouts pull in. </p><p></p><p>10 a.m., and the forces of the Hand finally come into view. Obscured by the dust they raise, a disorganized advance probe of rabble, mixed goblins, orcs, lizardfolk, kobolds and gnolls. As the defenders come into view, a roar starts to rise up from them, quiet at first, but building second by second into a manic roar of bloodlust and triumph.</p><p></p><p>The rabble pours forward, several hundred of them rushing up the roads- to the pike hedge that awaits them. They fling themselves forward, but the long weapons they face tear into them. Blood runs over the trade road, into the ditches designed to slow the enemy, as the defenders of Fandelose dispatch the enemy with ruthless efficiency. The rabble throwing themselves to their death break almost immediately, and Viper Company charges forward, impaling many of the fleeing ones, while the dwarves of the Granite Wedge crush more of the enemy against Tiger Company.</p><p></p><p>”That was just the first wave,” says TRS-80 to Torinn. “The second will be stronger.”</p><p></p><p>“We aren’t really supposed to stop them,” Torinn replies. “We just want to bloody their noses- let them know they are in for a fight.”</p><p></p><p>“I estimate that we have defeated almost 400 of them.” The warforged’s cold eyes fix on the dragonborn. “Out of, at minimum, 400,000.”</p><p></p><p>“A bloody nose,” replies Torinn, “is a bloody nose. It doesn’t finish you off- but it might make you careless.”</p><p></p><p>“If you have a nose to bloody,” the warforged replies gravely. </p><p></p><p><em>Bastard,</em> thinks Torinn.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>About an hour after the first probe, a group of kobold emissaries rides forward on a covered wagon (probably plundered) under a flag of truce.</p><p></p><p>“I don’t really see what we have to talk about,” grunts Ligir. “Company! Draw! And- <em>loose!</em>”</p><p></p><p>Arrows rain down at the wagon, which promptly retreats.*</p><p></p><p>Moments later, the second Hand probe begins to advance, consisting of twice as many rabble as before. This time, they are accompanied by a unit of about 100 archers. Additionally, two distinctly elite-looking units of slightly over 100 each are advancing- one a group of hobgoblins, the other a group of orcish berserkers that leads the rabble down the road. </p><p></p><p>“Get ready!” Loridell calls to her troops as the enemies pour forward with a roar towards the pikemen again. This time, the hobgoblins form up and begin marching towards the warforged and Bear Company. </p><p></p><p>Arrows rain at the orcs as they come within range, but they only roar and charge forward at the dwarves. The pikemen and dwarves brace for them, and the forces meet in a crunch, with the extraordinary advantage of the pike’s reach proving a telling factor- as it always had for the Fourth Legion. Orc after orc flings himself forward, batting away one long shaft of the hedge only to be impaled by another. Then the dwarves march forward, shattering the orcish formation with their hammers. </p><p></p><p>The hobgoblin elite forces, meanwhile, charge forward into the warforged line. They prove to be devastatingly effective at fighting in formation, and the clash between the units grows very hot indeed. On the other side of the road, the goblin archers have run up against the Black Gorge; realizing that they cannot easily circumnavigate it, they instead start firing their bows into the Imperial Archers, who are thus compelled to focus on them in turn. </p><p></p><p>The clash of sword on armor, the shriek of the wounded and slain, the stink of death fill the road. The bodies are heaped high. The orcs cannot retreat, being pressed by the rabble from behind. Trapped in between the dwarven hammer and the anvil of the pikemen, all they can do is die in droves. </p><p></p><p>The hobgoblins, on the other hand, are faring much better, dealing extraordinary damage and guarding each other extremely well. Even with Delta Squadron and Bear Company focusing on them, they are staying in the fight- and staying competitive. </p><p></p><p>But it can’t last forever; the rabble and the orcs are dying like flies, and more of the defenders are able to turn a few pikes towards the hobgoblins. Finally, the enemy is repulsed again, and although the defenders have suffered some losses, they are not yet too severe.</p><p></p><p>“The next wave,” TRS-80 tells Torinn, “will be a <em>real</em> test of our intentions- whether or not we truly intend to dispute the approach to the city.”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The third wave outnumbers the defending group about 4:1. </p><p></p><p>“This will be the wave we flee from,” Hkatha says. “We’ll draw them in, trigger the trap in the gorge and get back into the city.”</p><p></p><p>The enemy marches, thousands of rabble, hundreds more of the elite hobgoblins, archers and berserkers- and several hundred goblin worg-riders. </p><p></p><p>“Trouble,” snaps Vann-La.</p><p></p><p>The worg-riders are fast. They rush forward, and the rabble roars and runs forward as well, pouring up the road in a hideous mass of slavering would-be conquerors. </p><p></p><p>The troops begin pulling back. The archers set up a withering rain of fire, trying to slow the enemy down. The hobgoblins advanced, an inevitable wave of steel and sweat and blood. They came into contact with the rear elements of the defenders and began slaughtering them. The rest poured through the three great gates, sealing them behind themselves as they fled to the walls. </p><p></p><p>Shortly, the boom of a ram swung by ogres announced that the triple gates outside of the killing ground would not hold the Six-Fingered Hand back for long.</p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> Man the Walls!!</p><p></p><p></p><p>*For the record, this would have been an illusion-cloaked ambush on our heroes, consisting of an oni mage, 2 ogre savages and 3 kobold minions.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 4787872, member: 1210"] “...and then the brownie told us that we could transition back to the real world- our world, that is- by going back into that hollow at noon. At midnight, it worldfalls into the Feywild, and at noon it worldfalls back into the world.” “I see.” Colonel Jaxe drums his fingers on his desk. “Worldfalls, eh?” “Yes, sir.” Ligir explains, “A worldfall is a phenomenon that results in a crossing of the worlds.” “So I gather,” Jaxe answers dryly. “Well. Well done, men, even if you couldn’t bring him back alive. At least the Hand won’t get his knowledge- and it sounds as though they were trying.” He stands up, clasping his hands behind his back. “The Hand is only days away. There is no time for you to rest, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for all that you have done. I hope you are ready for what comes next.” “And what is that, sir?” Vann-La queries. “Total war,” replies Colonel Jaxe. Into the heavy silence, Heimall asks, “How much time do we have, sir?” “Four days. Enough time to get to know the units that you’ll be building and to dig some fortifications.” *** The Six-Fingered Hand is on the march. Scouts gallop out from Fandelose, dust swirling behind them as they go to gauge the oncoming forces. Back and forth, a constant stream of eyes, seeing and then relating what they have seen to General Argos. [i]They come.[/i] Harried by the warforged, slowed by what long-range light cavalry Argos can spare to distract the oncoming force, the horde extends in a seething mass as far as the scouts can see. How many? Thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands- none can say. More than they could see. In the city, the last frantic days before the enemy arrives are abuzz with activity. Supplies are cached where they will do the most good; the farms outside the walls are fired, the wells poisoned. Last minute arrangements are made with the dwarves, as well as those warforged within the city or able to retreat within it before the horde hits. They come, numberless in their masses. It is clear that it will come to a siege. General Argos has known that for over a year. His forces are too few for a pitched battle in the field to spell anything but disaster. The enemy is led by a hobgoblin named Heshwat the Eviscerator, and it is said that in the van of the enemy column a group of wagons holds tall poles, on which are stretched living prisoners, their intestines spilling down and trailing behind the wagon, torn and stretched by countless stomping boots and churning wheels. When one of the screaming victims finally dies, a new one is bound in place and his or her belly slit open. The land outside the city has been prepared, with wooden spikes, trenches and moats dug and filled. One approach only is open to the killing field surrounding Fandelose itself, up the trade road that leads past the Black Gorge. A great triple gate waits, each one open for the moment. Before this, our heroes have drawn up, each in command of a company of 100 soldiers. Iggy commands Scorpion Company, from the Imperial Sixth Legion. They are a company of archers. Kratos has been given command of the Granite Wedge, a group of dwarves from the operation in the gorge. Captain Nordek Stoneweight is the dwarven leader, but he is happy to put himself under Kratos’ command in order to fully integrate the dwarves and their deadly trap with General Argos’ battle plan. Torinn enthusiastically takes command of a group of 100 warforged soldiers that have seconded themselves to the general. They are called Delta Squadron, and Torinn’s subcommander is named TRS-80. Interestingly, one of the warforged in the unit is of a somewhat different design than the others; it claims to be older, from an earlier run of warforged, and originally defended a different area, but its memories of that time are mostly overwritten. Its name is P-38. The others are given control of four companies of Imperial pikemen- Viper Company under Loridell (who has accepted a field commission), Raptor Company under Hkatha, Tiger Company under Heimall and Bear Company under Vann-la. The enemy will have to advance up a relatively narrow raised road that approaches the city. The plains to either side of the road would require significant climbing across the fortifications to attain the killing field surrounding the city. To the city’s north, the Black Gorge cuts access to Fandelose for several miles. It also serves as the location of a most cunning dwarven trap- if enough enemies can be lured into the Gorge to warrant using it. *** 9 a.m. Dust in the distance. The warforged and Bear Company deploy to the south, in the plains below the road. If they move far enough forward, they may be able to take the enemies in the flank. The archers in the middle, the pikemen forward and as a rear guard. The dwarves remain just ahead of the turnoff into the Black Gorge on the road. The entire horizon is obliterated beneath an obscuring mist of dust by 9:30. Distant sound- a tremendous number of feet on the move- carries far, echoing from the peaks behind the field of coming battle. Coming closer and closer. The last of the scouts pull in. 10 a.m., and the forces of the Hand finally come into view. Obscured by the dust they raise, a disorganized advance probe of rabble, mixed goblins, orcs, lizardfolk, kobolds and gnolls. As the defenders come into view, a roar starts to rise up from them, quiet at first, but building second by second into a manic roar of bloodlust and triumph. The rabble pours forward, several hundred of them rushing up the roads- to the pike hedge that awaits them. They fling themselves forward, but the long weapons they face tear into them. Blood runs over the trade road, into the ditches designed to slow the enemy, as the defenders of Fandelose dispatch the enemy with ruthless efficiency. The rabble throwing themselves to their death break almost immediately, and Viper Company charges forward, impaling many of the fleeing ones, while the dwarves of the Granite Wedge crush more of the enemy against Tiger Company. ”That was just the first wave,” says TRS-80 to Torinn. “The second will be stronger.” “We aren’t really supposed to stop them,” Torinn replies. “We just want to bloody their noses- let them know they are in for a fight.” “I estimate that we have defeated almost 400 of them.” The warforged’s cold eyes fix on the dragonborn. “Out of, at minimum, 400,000.” “A bloody nose,” replies Torinn, “is a bloody nose. It doesn’t finish you off- but it might make you careless.” “If you have a nose to bloody,” the warforged replies gravely. [i]Bastard,[/i] thinks Torinn. *** About an hour after the first probe, a group of kobold emissaries rides forward on a covered wagon (probably plundered) under a flag of truce. “I don’t really see what we have to talk about,” grunts Ligir. “Company! Draw! And- [i]loose![/i]” Arrows rain down at the wagon, which promptly retreats.* Moments later, the second Hand probe begins to advance, consisting of twice as many rabble as before. This time, they are accompanied by a unit of about 100 archers. Additionally, two distinctly elite-looking units of slightly over 100 each are advancing- one a group of hobgoblins, the other a group of orcish berserkers that leads the rabble down the road. “Get ready!” Loridell calls to her troops as the enemies pour forward with a roar towards the pikemen again. This time, the hobgoblins form up and begin marching towards the warforged and Bear Company. Arrows rain at the orcs as they come within range, but they only roar and charge forward at the dwarves. The pikemen and dwarves brace for them, and the forces meet in a crunch, with the extraordinary advantage of the pike’s reach proving a telling factor- as it always had for the Fourth Legion. Orc after orc flings himself forward, batting away one long shaft of the hedge only to be impaled by another. Then the dwarves march forward, shattering the orcish formation with their hammers. The hobgoblin elite forces, meanwhile, charge forward into the warforged line. They prove to be devastatingly effective at fighting in formation, and the clash between the units grows very hot indeed. On the other side of the road, the goblin archers have run up against the Black Gorge; realizing that they cannot easily circumnavigate it, they instead start firing their bows into the Imperial Archers, who are thus compelled to focus on them in turn. The clash of sword on armor, the shriek of the wounded and slain, the stink of death fill the road. The bodies are heaped high. The orcs cannot retreat, being pressed by the rabble from behind. Trapped in between the dwarven hammer and the anvil of the pikemen, all they can do is die in droves. The hobgoblins, on the other hand, are faring much better, dealing extraordinary damage and guarding each other extremely well. Even with Delta Squadron and Bear Company focusing on them, they are staying in the fight- and staying competitive. But it can’t last forever; the rabble and the orcs are dying like flies, and more of the defenders are able to turn a few pikes towards the hobgoblins. Finally, the enemy is repulsed again, and although the defenders have suffered some losses, they are not yet too severe. “The next wave,” TRS-80 tells Torinn, “will be a [i]real[/i] test of our intentions- whether or not we truly intend to dispute the approach to the city.” *** The third wave outnumbers the defending group about 4:1. “This will be the wave we flee from,” Hkatha says. “We’ll draw them in, trigger the trap in the gorge and get back into the city.” The enemy marches, thousands of rabble, hundreds more of the elite hobgoblins, archers and berserkers- and several hundred goblin worg-riders. “Trouble,” snaps Vann-La. The worg-riders are fast. They rush forward, and the rabble roars and runs forward as well, pouring up the road in a hideous mass of slavering would-be conquerors. The troops begin pulling back. The archers set up a withering rain of fire, trying to slow the enemy down. The hobgoblins advanced, an inevitable wave of steel and sweat and blood. They came into contact with the rear elements of the defenders and began slaughtering them. The rest poured through the three great gates, sealing them behind themselves as they fled to the walls. Shortly, the boom of a ram swung by ogres announced that the triple gates outside of the killing ground would not hold the Six-Fingered Hand back for long. [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] Man the Walls!! *For the record, this would have been an illusion-cloaked ambush on our heroes, consisting of an oni mage, 2 ogre savages and 3 kobold minions. [/QUOTE]
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