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Message: <blockquote data-quote="diaglo" data-source="post: 467500" data-attributes="member: 2885">And so it goesAs the party finished looting the remains of the orc camp, they could see in the distance the battle being fought in the vale below Peldan's Helm.  The Mistledale militia advanced to meet the orc infantry; spears and shields clashing with orc-wielded swords.  Archers on both sides poored arrow after arrow into the closely packed ranks, though the Dalesmen with their advantage in numbers were slowly gaining the upper hand.  Suddenly, a horn call range out, and the center of the Dales formation parted, as a company of sixty Riders in black-enameled plate crashed into the center of the orc formation.  With no leadership to steady them -- the great orc leader and his advisors having mysteriously failed to arrive when the battle was joined -- the orcs held briefly, but soon gave way before the Riders' onslaught.  The orc horde panicked, broke, and then ran before the onrushing lances of the Riders.Within minutes it was over, surviving orcs throwing down weapons and running for the woods and freedom.  The Riders rode down many, and companies of spearmen and archers captured or killed many of the survivors.  By noon no orc could be found on the fields save the bound or the dead.Two companies of adventurers walked wearily into the army's camp that afternoon, tired, bleeding, but victorious.  Neylessa Shendean met them outside the command tent, a bandage on one arm and a rent in her armor."Well met," she said solemnly.  "Chauntea be praised; you have succeeded.  We began the attack at the second flare, and it was hard fought but swift.  The orcs seemed confused, demoralized somehow.  Fifty good Dalesmen will not see the sun set this day, but it is a victory.  I trust Peldan's Helm will be safe from orcs for a season or more yet."The companies relate their stories.  Neylessa nods, her eyes distant.  "You did well to kill their leaders -- likely that made the difference between fifty graves and two hundred.  Here is your pay," handing over a heavy bag, " yet we have more to thank you for.  Now is not yet the time.  We still hunt the stragglers.  On the morrow we will police the battlefield and build a pyre for our dead, but the day after we will hold a tournament and a feast to honor our victory.  I hope that you will partake in the tourney, and demonstrate your skill of arms, then join me at my table for the feast.  There is yet more we could do for your valor."She waves a farewell.  "Your friends in Peldan's Helm have survived.  They are thinner, perhaps, but that is easily solved.  If you would lead these supply wagons here up to the keep, I'm certain you will be well received.  Farewell for now."The adventurers take their leave, one party silently repairing to a tent to nurse their wounds; the other gathers horses and wagons and leads them across blood-reddened fields to the now-open gates of Peldan's Helm.Inside the streets are rubble-strewn and fire blackened.  The roof of the stable has burned, and here and there is a broken window or shattered doorpost.  By and large, however, the keep weathered the storm well.The populace looks gaunt, but happy to be liberated.  There is a "Huzzah" and general acclaim as their heroes led the desperately needed supply wagons into the burned-pout stable yard, and the hungry citizens and remaining guards quickly unload."Tha' was a brave bit o' fightin' " says Wilf the taverner, "but we'd o' expected tha' of our heroes.  I'd be honored iffn' ye'd stay the week with me, free o' charge.  Everyone'll be visitin', wantin' t' here yer stories."</blockquote>

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