Yeah, I promised to get this up earlier, but stuff came in the way. Good thing for you, however, is that I just finished another session, which should yield enough material for a while. However, the campaign will now have a break of about five or six weeks, due to some players going abroad. With the players that remain, however, I will be playing one-shot adventures of Spycraft, Call of Cthulhu, and Star Wars, and maybe even Warhammer Fantasy Role-Playing Game, or Ars Magica. I may or may not post up tales of these. We will see.
Chapter 2 – Fire, Steel, and Blood
After defeating Mundiak and his horsemen, the adventurers, having thus received their baptism by fire as a group together, rested. There were wounds to heal, dead to bury, and preparations to make. They all knew that this was only the beginning.
Eight days from the first conflict, it happened. In the small hours of the night, three ships landed next to the village. The guards were asleep at their posts. And thus, when the rising sun's first rays hit Ovotsk, they were greeted by screams of death, pain, and fear. The houses were in flames, thick, dark plumes of smoke rising from the thatch roofs. A number of warriors, wielding spears and axes, were looting and pillaging, capturing people and leading them to their boats.
Then, finally, alarm was rung. The heroes woke up, grabbed their arms and armour, and quickly made their way to the top of the palisade, where they met Predeslava and Boian. The town militia was outside, fighting with the invaders.
From the burning chaos emerged three figures, walking towards the hill fort. Thirty feet from the gates, they stopped. One of them unshouldered a large horn, and blew out a battle challenge. Another stuck a long banner pole in the ground. The banner was solid black, thrashing to and fro like it was alive in the wind.
The third man, the one in the middle, took a step forward, and turned his gaze up to the battlements. His Norse goggle helm made his eyes look like black pits. His wild, shaggy hair and beard were white as snow, yet his muscular body betrayed no trace of old age.
"It is over now, Predeslava!"
As a response, the gates of the fort swung open. It quickly became clear, though, it was no surrender. From within, stepped the four adventurers, accompanied by Boian. A silent challenge had been issued, and weapons were drawn. From a loop in his back, Helgi produced an enormous battle axe.
One of the white-haired Norseman's companions grabbed a javelin from his back, and flung it at Franz, going so wide of the target he might have been aiming at Altdorf, for all it was worth. Helgi chucked a small throwing axe at Fisibbei, with similar results.
Chanting the litanies of his faith, Franz charged the Norseman with his warhammer held high. The warhammer and the battleaxe met each other with a resounding clang, striking sparks. Frederich came to help the priest, sinking his axe and shortsword in the whitebeard's side.
Meanwhile, Kase was shooting at one of the Norseman's cohorts. He was interrupted by Boian on his left, who tried to sink a dagger into his side. Nimbly evading the attacker, Kase snarled at the traitor, and drew his sword. Boian answered in kind, and the two locked blades, soon engaged in a fight to the death.
The white-haired Norseman was a good fighter, they could give him that. And strong, too. Batting away Frederich's axe, he twirled his own weapon in the air, bringing it around to strike Franz on the shoulder. Blood burst from the wound, and the priest fell down, bleeding. In response, Frederich stabbed the man under the ribcage, and slashed upwards. As blood stained his white beard red, the warrior fell.
Fisibbei's wolf clamped its jaws down on the standard bearer's foot, tearing away a goodly-sized chunk of flesh. As the man cried out in pain and fell down, the animal went for the throat, quickly finishing him off.
The druid himself saw he was not immediately needed in the battle, and knelt down next to Franz, administering a healing spell. It was not enough to bring him back to the battle, but staunched the flow of blood.
Rising up, the halfling saw Kase an Boian, locked in a duel the elven priest was losing. Silently, the halfling ran up to the traitor, stabbing his sickle in the man's back. The wound was not lethal, but the unexpected pain made him drop his guard, which was all that Kase needed to decapitate his opponent.
Frederich turned to the last opponent, the one with the horn. Charging each other, the two exchanged a short series of fast blows. Frederich's extraordinary strength and speed prevailed, however, and his adversary was soon dead.
Like a wildfire, news of their leader's defeat spread through his troops, and what had only minutes before been a victorious battle quickly turned to a full rout, as the warriors dropped their weapons and ran for their ships. The Ovotsk militia followed, cutting down all they could, with the same amount of mercy that had been shown on them and their families. At the ships, skirmishes broke out, as the raiders tried to hold off the militia long enough for their comrades to push their ships, filled with captives and loot, off the beach.
There was no rest for the weary adventurers. They saw that at one of the boats, the raiders had successfully held off the militia, and were pushing the ship to the water. They ran down the hillside and to the beach, with Frederich drawing first blood by cutting one of the men down with a single swipe of his great axe. The red-bearded warrior ran to his next foe, who raised a spear to block the blow, but slipped in the mud. A downwards swipe cleaved his skull in half.
The other adventurers weren't doing so well, however. Kase was stabbed with a spear, and he curled up in the ground, bleeding profusely. Fisibbei's wolf bit one of the raiders in the arm, but was rewarded with a spear through the skull, killing the noble animal instantly. Seeing this, the halfling seemed to go into a berserker rage. Charging the slayer of his friend, he lost all finesse, just chopping at the enemy with his sickle, cutting through his spear, his arm, and his heart.
Frederich's opponent found an opening in the big man's guard, and plunged his spear into Frederich's ribcage. Frederich collapsed instantly, but this was little consolation to the raider, who was slain by Fisibbei, with a well-placed blow from behind.
Franz was up against two of the raiders, alone. After a while of inefficient blocking, attacking, and parrying, he took a step back, and then brought his warhammer around in a sideways sweep of terrifying power. It splintered the spear shafts raised against it into kindling, and crushed the skulls of both men opposing him.
Once again, the enemy had been driven back, but at a terrible cost.
