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The Fall of Civilization
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 4801105" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>On the walls, all is quiet. The multitude of fires of the Six-Fingered Hand horde glimmer redly in the night. “It’s hard to believe that it has been five years,” one of the guards mutters to another. </p><p></p><p>The older man on duty with him nods. “I know what you mean. And we’re still holding.”</p><p></p><p>“Yeah- but I don’t think that we’ll ever be free again.”</p><p></p><p>The veteran studies the young man. “How old are you, kid?”</p><p></p><p>“Nineteen. What’s that got to do with anything?”</p><p></p><p>“Just this.” The veteran pulls an onion out of his pouch and starts peeling the skin. “I’ve been under General Argos’ command for a long time, and I’ll tell you what: he never gives up. Never. And he always comes up with an answer. He won’t let no one hurry him, either- he takes his time, he’s careful. But he’ll spring real fast when the time is right.” The soldier takes a bite out of his onion. “We’ll be free again, all right. Ol’ Argos has something up his sleeve. He’s just waiting for the right moment.”</p><p></p><p>“Seems like it’ll never come,” the younger man grumbles. </p><p></p><p>“Haw! That’s rich. No, I tell you, kid, Argos won’t make a move until the time is right. But when he does, he’ll break this stranglehold, and he’ll cut all six fingers off of that mean ol’ hand.”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The upper part of the city, built on a series of low hills, has been converted from the aristocracy’s holdings to rice fields, flooded by a diverted river. The triple walls of Fandelose are a mere single wall in the uppermost portion of the city, but they are nearly unassailable due to the rugged mountain paths required to reach them. General Argos has a constant watch in place, but there has not been a serious attempt to take the area since very early in the siege. Even so, the watchers positioned here are not careless. Far from it; they still spy Six-Fingered Hand scouts in the mountains quite frequently, and there are even occasional units of skirmishers that try to shoot down soldiers on the walls. </p><p></p><p>Despite this, however, in the deepest part of the night, a troop of goblins manages to attain the wall in secret, and- with remarkable speed, and using the aid of a ram wielded by the only two ogres in the attacking force- open a breach in the wall. </p><p></p><p>By then the alarm has been sounded, and our heroes are on their way, gathering a ragged group of responders as they go. But the goblins- nearly a thousand, split evenly between worg-riders and archers- have enough time to start putting the peasants living on the edge of the rice field to the sword. Those that try to flee find themselves the target of a massed hail of arrows. The screams of the wounded and the dying echo in the night. More of the goblins rampage into the fields of precious rice, some hurling lit torches, some merely trampling.</p><p></p><p>By the time Fandelose’s counter reaches the Upper District, it is almost too late. The bodies of slain citizens litter the field. The broken stalks of crushed rice are strewn about the fields. Cottages are burning. The air is filled with the smell of smoke and the yelling of goblins.</p><p></p><p><em>Four companies of pikemen and four companies of archers,</em> thinks Vann-La. <em>We’re outnumbered pretty badly here. But even if we have to die to stop them, we have to save the rice. Without our food supply, we’re doomed!</em> “Forward!” she roars to her troops. </p><p></p><p>The pikemen make a desperate rush forward into the fields themselves, where the worg-riders are rampaging. They quickly revise their tactics, though, forming up to meet the oncoming Imperial troops. The archers begin pelting them from the sides. </p><p></p><p>Again, the Imperial Archers prove their worth. Their superior range forces the goblin archers to first shift their attention from the beleaguered pikemen- already being hammered into by the goblin cavalry- and then to fall back as the Imperial Archers keep firing rhythmic waves of arrows. </p><p></p><p>All along the lines, the pikemen fight bravely. Their reach gives them a deadly edge, but the goblins’ worgs are fierce and ruthless. Though pierced again and again, they fight with deadly power. Slowly, the line of pikemen begins to crumple. </p><p></p><p><em>I know there are reinforcements on the way,</em> thinks Heimall desperately. <em>If only we can hold out long enough!</em> </p><p></p><p>The Imperial Archers turn their focus again, unleashing a withering barrage at the worg-riders. The pikemen manage to fall back and form another ragged line.</p><p></p><p>At the edge of the plateau, where the road leads down into the rest of the city, comes a sound: hundreds of boots marching in unison. <em>Reinforcements,</em> thinks Torinn. <em>We’ve done it! We’ve held out!</em></p><p></p><p>The enemy redoubles their effort to hurl back the advance defenders, to buy enough time to finish their work. “Let’s get ‘em, boys!” roars Kratos. “You like to eat, right!”</p><p></p><p>The pikemen surge forward.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>“How bad is it?” asks Torinn.</p><p></p><p>”It could be worse,” the messenger answers. “We’re still counting the bodies, but we probably have enough farmers left to manage the harvest, if only barely; and though they damaged the crops, there is enough live rice left that, with some rationing, we should be able to make through the next winter.”</p><p></p><p>“Thank you,” the dragonborn mutters, and thinks, <em>Another winter. How much longer can this go on? I would have thought that they would have given up by now! But no, this Heshwat the Eviscerator- he won’t let Fandelose get away. He will fight to the end. Somehow, we have to strike back!</em></p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>“I understand that you are within your rights to maintain your position as long as the siege lasts, general,” says Bridget Willow, “but I hope you agree with me that once it is over, it is time to restore civilian rule.”</p><p></p><p>The general studies her. “Once the time has come, I will indeed relinquish my control of Fandelose, Councilor Willow. You need have no fear of my becoming a tyrant.”</p><p></p><p>“I notice, however,” she replies after a moment, “that you do not seem to acknowledge that the end of the siege will be that time.”</p><p></p><p>“Councilor Willow, I assure you that at the first possible moment I will relinquish control of this city. But the crisis may last beyond the siege. This is not the only army of the Hand, you know, Councilor.”</p><p></p><p>“Yet, if they are not here, they do not present an imminent threat-“</p><p></p><p>“Yes, Councilor Willow, they do.” General Argos gives her a hard look. “I promise you that my motivation is only the safety of your city and people. Surely, you can understand that I must have a free hand to act during this period. Look at how paralyzed the city was before I invoked martial law.”</p><p></p><p>“Paralyzed, or free?”</p><p></p><p>General Argos sighs. “I trust my position is clear, Councilor Willow. Good day.”</p><p></p><p>“It is all too clear, Your Majesty.” With that caustic remark, Bridget Willow turns on her heel and stalks from General Argos’ office. Leaving him to stare at her wake.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Months tick by. Another winter rolls in, turning the churned ground around the great city to mud. The citizenry manages to repair the outer gate, though not with the same strength as it once had. The horde has seemingly grown sullen and stays well out of catapult range- but remains encamped. </p><p></p><p>When the time to strike back finally arrives, the heroes are atop the walls, watching a major force mass for an assault, when a summons for them arrives. Hurrying off- for they know that their commander would not request that they leave the wall without good reason- they find Colonel Jaxe and about two dozen other senior officers for a staff meeting (including Knile Keflingorn, who is now a colonel himself). The staff meeting is conducted by Argos himself. </p><p></p><p>He begins without preamble as soon as everyone is seated. “Gentlemen, ladies, thank you for being prompt. I have no doubt that you’re all eager to get back to the fight, so I’ll make this as quick as possible. </p><p></p><p>“The Six-Fingered Hand has been hitting us hard here for five years, and we’ve had to be almost purely on the defensive. Their advantage in numbers is such that any kind of counterattack would have been prohibitively expensive for us. We’ve managed to maintain our supplies, hold the enemy at bay and keep our spirits relatively high. Now, at last, we have the opportunity to punch back.</p><p></p><p>“Most of you don’t know what the warforged have been doing for most of the time that this siege has been going on. They have been crucial to setting up our counterattack. The horde of the Hand is huge- the forces besieging us number around a million. That’s more than the entire population of Fandelose by almost fifteen to one. That numerical superiority is their greatest strength; we’ve all seen that the vast majority of them are rabble, and we can kill them ten to one or more when it comes down to soldier to soldier combat on the walls. But their elite troops are much more dangerous, and they have rabble to waste, and kobolds and goblins and orcs breed like rabbits. So they can afford the losses we’re dealing to them and have a new generation of troops ready to fight in only a few years. Some of the kobolds we’ve been fighting are only five years old, ladies and gentlemen. Five years, and they can replace half of their lost rabble.</p><p></p><p>“But that size has a great cost. They need immense amounts of forage. They aren’t squeamish about what they eat- we’ve all heard the stories about what happens to captured troops- and they are capable of living off of crops and such for quite some time. We’ve seen that they burn the towns and cities but spare the fields; that’s so they will have enough forage to keep going.</p><p></p><p>“Well, thanks to the warforged, that’s all changing. They have accomplished three chief things for us in the last year. First, they have established a secondary base from which they can strike, outside of Fandelose but only about twenty miles away. They are close enough to aid us when we’re in need, but able to operate independently. </p><p></p><p>“Secondly, they have been destroying the fields and eliminating all the local food sources for the enemy. Yes, we all know what that means. Our people have nothing to eat and nowhere to go, and if they find anything, we are likely to destroy it. I know that this means terrible hardship for anyone who isn’t inside the walls of Fandelose, but it’s no worse than if we don’t do it. The Six-Fingered Hand is enslaving or eating everyone they find. We must stop them. The food that is out there might feed our people for a few weeks, but the horde’s scavengers will find it. I have judged that the cost to them is worth the cost to us, terrible as it is. We must stop them, no matter what the cost. We can rebuild- but only if we can break them. Otherwise, they will make us all extinct.</p><p></p><p>“The final thing that the warforged have accomplished by being such a thorn in the side of the horde, is to draw out their rear defense. It has become porous and overextended. From the right direction, with coordination with the warforged, we will cut the enemy’s supply lines and then destroy their command tent and assassinate their leadership.” Murmuring around the table draws a tight smile from Argos. “My plan is audacious, yes. Yet being timid will leave us stalemated until we are old men. We will sneak a small group of elite troops out of the city under the nose of the enemy; they will establish communication with the warforged and arrange a clever attack. The warforged will attack the baggage train and attempt to draw off the enemy’s defensive units. While they pursue the warforged, our troops will fall upon the baggage train and take what they can, destroying as much as possible of the rest. If we can cut off the enemy’s food supply, we will nearly have him. </p><p></p><p>“The warforged and our troops must either evade or crush the enemy baggage guard troops. Then they will immediately move to perform the same maneuver against the guards of the command tents. They will press hard, and the warforged are willing to make significant sacrifices, in order to draw as many of the enemy guards into pursuing them as possible. And then an elite team of our greatest champions will storm the command tent, and attempt to slay the enemy leaders. With neither food nor leadership, the horde will collapse.”</p><p></p><p>Vann-La speaks up. “General, who do you have in mind for this mission?”</p><p></p><p>General Argos answers, “I think you know the answer to that without asking, Captain. You and your friends.”</p><p></p><p>“Excellent,” Vann-La answers with a wicked smile.</p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> A complication or two- such as the Lost Legion!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 4801105, member: 1210"] On the walls, all is quiet. The multitude of fires of the Six-Fingered Hand horde glimmer redly in the night. “It’s hard to believe that it has been five years,” one of the guards mutters to another. The older man on duty with him nods. “I know what you mean. And we’re still holding.” “Yeah- but I don’t think that we’ll ever be free again.” The veteran studies the young man. “How old are you, kid?” “Nineteen. What’s that got to do with anything?” “Just this.” The veteran pulls an onion out of his pouch and starts peeling the skin. “I’ve been under General Argos’ command for a long time, and I’ll tell you what: he never gives up. Never. And he always comes up with an answer. He won’t let no one hurry him, either- he takes his time, he’s careful. But he’ll spring real fast when the time is right.” The soldier takes a bite out of his onion. “We’ll be free again, all right. Ol’ Argos has something up his sleeve. He’s just waiting for the right moment.” “Seems like it’ll never come,” the younger man grumbles. “Haw! That’s rich. No, I tell you, kid, Argos won’t make a move until the time is right. But when he does, he’ll break this stranglehold, and he’ll cut all six fingers off of that mean ol’ hand.” *** The upper part of the city, built on a series of low hills, has been converted from the aristocracy’s holdings to rice fields, flooded by a diverted river. The triple walls of Fandelose are a mere single wall in the uppermost portion of the city, but they are nearly unassailable due to the rugged mountain paths required to reach them. General Argos has a constant watch in place, but there has not been a serious attempt to take the area since very early in the siege. Even so, the watchers positioned here are not careless. Far from it; they still spy Six-Fingered Hand scouts in the mountains quite frequently, and there are even occasional units of skirmishers that try to shoot down soldiers on the walls. Despite this, however, in the deepest part of the night, a troop of goblins manages to attain the wall in secret, and- with remarkable speed, and using the aid of a ram wielded by the only two ogres in the attacking force- open a breach in the wall. By then the alarm has been sounded, and our heroes are on their way, gathering a ragged group of responders as they go. But the goblins- nearly a thousand, split evenly between worg-riders and archers- have enough time to start putting the peasants living on the edge of the rice field to the sword. Those that try to flee find themselves the target of a massed hail of arrows. The screams of the wounded and the dying echo in the night. More of the goblins rampage into the fields of precious rice, some hurling lit torches, some merely trampling. By the time Fandelose’s counter reaches the Upper District, it is almost too late. The bodies of slain citizens litter the field. The broken stalks of crushed rice are strewn about the fields. Cottages are burning. The air is filled with the smell of smoke and the yelling of goblins. [i]Four companies of pikemen and four companies of archers,[/i] thinks Vann-La. [i]We’re outnumbered pretty badly here. But even if we have to die to stop them, we have to save the rice. Without our food supply, we’re doomed![/i] “Forward!” she roars to her troops. The pikemen make a desperate rush forward into the fields themselves, where the worg-riders are rampaging. They quickly revise their tactics, though, forming up to meet the oncoming Imperial troops. The archers begin pelting them from the sides. Again, the Imperial Archers prove their worth. Their superior range forces the goblin archers to first shift their attention from the beleaguered pikemen- already being hammered into by the goblin cavalry- and then to fall back as the Imperial Archers keep firing rhythmic waves of arrows. All along the lines, the pikemen fight bravely. Their reach gives them a deadly edge, but the goblins’ worgs are fierce and ruthless. Though pierced again and again, they fight with deadly power. Slowly, the line of pikemen begins to crumple. [i]I know there are reinforcements on the way,[/i] thinks Heimall desperately. [i]If only we can hold out long enough![/i] The Imperial Archers turn their focus again, unleashing a withering barrage at the worg-riders. The pikemen manage to fall back and form another ragged line. At the edge of the plateau, where the road leads down into the rest of the city, comes a sound: hundreds of boots marching in unison. [i]Reinforcements,[/i] thinks Torinn. [i]We’ve done it! We’ve held out![/i] The enemy redoubles their effort to hurl back the advance defenders, to buy enough time to finish their work. “Let’s get ‘em, boys!” roars Kratos. “You like to eat, right!” The pikemen surge forward. *** “How bad is it?” asks Torinn. ”It could be worse,” the messenger answers. “We’re still counting the bodies, but we probably have enough farmers left to manage the harvest, if only barely; and though they damaged the crops, there is enough live rice left that, with some rationing, we should be able to make through the next winter.” “Thank you,” the dragonborn mutters, and thinks, [i]Another winter. How much longer can this go on? I would have thought that they would have given up by now! But no, this Heshwat the Eviscerator- he won’t let Fandelose get away. He will fight to the end. Somehow, we have to strike back![/i] *** “I understand that you are within your rights to maintain your position as long as the siege lasts, general,” says Bridget Willow, “but I hope you agree with me that once it is over, it is time to restore civilian rule.” The general studies her. “Once the time has come, I will indeed relinquish my control of Fandelose, Councilor Willow. You need have no fear of my becoming a tyrant.” “I notice, however,” she replies after a moment, “that you do not seem to acknowledge that the end of the siege will be that time.” “Councilor Willow, I assure you that at the first possible moment I will relinquish control of this city. But the crisis may last beyond the siege. This is not the only army of the Hand, you know, Councilor.” “Yet, if they are not here, they do not present an imminent threat-“ “Yes, Councilor Willow, they do.” General Argos gives her a hard look. “I promise you that my motivation is only the safety of your city and people. Surely, you can understand that I must have a free hand to act during this period. Look at how paralyzed the city was before I invoked martial law.” “Paralyzed, or free?” General Argos sighs. “I trust my position is clear, Councilor Willow. Good day.” “It is all too clear, Your Majesty.” With that caustic remark, Bridget Willow turns on her heel and stalks from General Argos’ office. Leaving him to stare at her wake. *** Months tick by. Another winter rolls in, turning the churned ground around the great city to mud. The citizenry manages to repair the outer gate, though not with the same strength as it once had. The horde has seemingly grown sullen and stays well out of catapult range- but remains encamped. When the time to strike back finally arrives, the heroes are atop the walls, watching a major force mass for an assault, when a summons for them arrives. Hurrying off- for they know that their commander would not request that they leave the wall without good reason- they find Colonel Jaxe and about two dozen other senior officers for a staff meeting (including Knile Keflingorn, who is now a colonel himself). The staff meeting is conducted by Argos himself. He begins without preamble as soon as everyone is seated. “Gentlemen, ladies, thank you for being prompt. I have no doubt that you’re all eager to get back to the fight, so I’ll make this as quick as possible. “The Six-Fingered Hand has been hitting us hard here for five years, and we’ve had to be almost purely on the defensive. Their advantage in numbers is such that any kind of counterattack would have been prohibitively expensive for us. We’ve managed to maintain our supplies, hold the enemy at bay and keep our spirits relatively high. Now, at last, we have the opportunity to punch back. “Most of you don’t know what the warforged have been doing for most of the time that this siege has been going on. They have been crucial to setting up our counterattack. The horde of the Hand is huge- the forces besieging us number around a million. That’s more than the entire population of Fandelose by almost fifteen to one. That numerical superiority is their greatest strength; we’ve all seen that the vast majority of them are rabble, and we can kill them ten to one or more when it comes down to soldier to soldier combat on the walls. But their elite troops are much more dangerous, and they have rabble to waste, and kobolds and goblins and orcs breed like rabbits. So they can afford the losses we’re dealing to them and have a new generation of troops ready to fight in only a few years. Some of the kobolds we’ve been fighting are only five years old, ladies and gentlemen. Five years, and they can replace half of their lost rabble. “But that size has a great cost. They need immense amounts of forage. They aren’t squeamish about what they eat- we’ve all heard the stories about what happens to captured troops- and they are capable of living off of crops and such for quite some time. We’ve seen that they burn the towns and cities but spare the fields; that’s so they will have enough forage to keep going. “Well, thanks to the warforged, that’s all changing. They have accomplished three chief things for us in the last year. First, they have established a secondary base from which they can strike, outside of Fandelose but only about twenty miles away. They are close enough to aid us when we’re in need, but able to operate independently. “Secondly, they have been destroying the fields and eliminating all the local food sources for the enemy. Yes, we all know what that means. Our people have nothing to eat and nowhere to go, and if they find anything, we are likely to destroy it. I know that this means terrible hardship for anyone who isn’t inside the walls of Fandelose, but it’s no worse than if we don’t do it. The Six-Fingered Hand is enslaving or eating everyone they find. We must stop them. The food that is out there might feed our people for a few weeks, but the horde’s scavengers will find it. I have judged that the cost to them is worth the cost to us, terrible as it is. We must stop them, no matter what the cost. We can rebuild- but only if we can break them. Otherwise, they will make us all extinct. “The final thing that the warforged have accomplished by being such a thorn in the side of the horde, is to draw out their rear defense. It has become porous and overextended. From the right direction, with coordination with the warforged, we will cut the enemy’s supply lines and then destroy their command tent and assassinate their leadership.” Murmuring around the table draws a tight smile from Argos. “My plan is audacious, yes. Yet being timid will leave us stalemated until we are old men. We will sneak a small group of elite troops out of the city under the nose of the enemy; they will establish communication with the warforged and arrange a clever attack. The warforged will attack the baggage train and attempt to draw off the enemy’s defensive units. While they pursue the warforged, our troops will fall upon the baggage train and take what they can, destroying as much as possible of the rest. If we can cut off the enemy’s food supply, we will nearly have him. “The warforged and our troops must either evade or crush the enemy baggage guard troops. Then they will immediately move to perform the same maneuver against the guards of the command tents. They will press hard, and the warforged are willing to make significant sacrifices, in order to draw as many of the enemy guards into pursuing them as possible. And then an elite team of our greatest champions will storm the command tent, and attempt to slay the enemy leaders. With neither food nor leadership, the horde will collapse.” Vann-La speaks up. “General, who do you have in mind for this mission?” General Argos answers, “I think you know the answer to that without asking, Captain. You and your friends.” “Excellent,” Vann-La answers with a wicked smile. [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] A complication or two- such as the Lost Legion! [/QUOTE]
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