The Battle of Saltmarsh Turnpike
As recounted by Dargrim Ironshield, on the 20th anniversary of the battle
- excerpted from "Rise of the Redfist", by Dahvius Molveme, High Scribe of the Birch Coast
(Author's Note: I have attempted to retain, as far as my notes allow, the vernacular employed by Lord Ironshield. To the best of my ability, this is the story as he himself recounted it.)
"The 'battle' - in my opinion you people make too much o' killing a few damn greenskins - began when the alarm horn blew, out by the turnpike. Redfist had put two men out there to warn of any approaching force. Well, they did their job, much good it did 'em - they were dead by the time we got there, of course.
As soon as the horn sounded, Redfist gathered a small force o' the militia, and led it up the road toward the turnpike. At the time, I didn't see why he'd bothered with the levies: they wouldn't be worth a damn in the fight, one way or the other, and he had to know that as well as I did.
The thing about Redfist, though, was that he was sneakier than he let on. I'm sure he woulda called it 'strategy', but it comes t' the same thing.
See, like I said, he knew they wouldn't be any use in the fight. That's why he brought 'em. He wanted witnesses, y'see. He wanted 'em to stand there, neat and orderly, and watch as we ripped those greenskin bastards t' pieces. And then he wanted 'em to go home and tell folks what they saw.
That's exactly what happened, too. And let me tell yer, after that, when Redfist said 'jump, no-one asked 'how high?'. They just jumped for all they were worth and hoped like hell it were good enough for him.
Told yer he was sneaky. O' course, he also just just liked havin' folks see how tough he was.
But enough o' that. Yer wanted t' know about the battle.
Soon as we reached the turnpike, Redfist used those flyin' boots o' his and went up to see what was goin' on. He came down pretty fast, and started snappin' orders for the men to fall out: seems there was more'n a few greenies on the way.
He got the levies in lines across the road, as a 'cordon', so he said, then he pushed the five of us - him, me, Ulfgar, the wizard, and the feeb - out in front, and him and the wizard started layin' on the battle spells. The greenies were tossin' a few arrows our way by this time, but they didn't hit anythin', far as I recall.
Anyway, Redfist did his thing, and the wizard made us bigger 'n' faster than we normally are, and that was about the time that the first bunch of the enemy started to get close. Goblin wolfriders, they were: six of 'em, charging down ahead o' the rest. Damn stupid, but I guess when yer been kickin' seven kinds of hell outta the country for the last six months, yer probably feeling pretty confident.
Beyond those six, we could see a couple o' chariots full o' orcs, plus one of those big siege catapults, and a big mob of greenskins in the middle.
So we gave 'em a welcome.
Redfist started callin' on Hextor f' aid, and conjured up a coupla big black hounds, all covered in fire: now that's my kinda mongrel. The wizard took a more direct approach, and dropped one o' his fireballs right on the mob in the middle. I seen a lot o' things in my time, but scores o' orcs being blown limb from limb never gets tired, let me tell yer.
I forget what the feeb did - probably not much o' anythin' - but Ulfgar and me charged right up the middle, aimin' fer the wolfriders out front. Ulfgar got off the mark a little faster, and reached 'em first, which meant that by the time I got there, there wasn't much left. He dropped four riders - and their wolves - within a couple of seconds. Would've got them all, I think, if they'd been close enough to reach.
The gobs scattered - can't say I blamed 'em - and Redfist sent his two hounds off to deal with 'em. Ulfgar went charging off after one o' the two chariots, while the second one came barrelling down at me. Redfist and I double-teamed that one: we gutted a boar apiece and then cut down the orcs in the back. I got this scar on my side in that fight: one of the boars gored me pretty deep, before it went down.
Ulfgar, meanwhile, had wrecked the other chariot, the boars pullin' it, and both the orcs in the back. For sheer destruction, he was the deadliest man on the field, that day.
I think it was round about now that the feeb tripped over a fence. Maybe it was later. All I remember of him that day was that it took him the whole fight to kill a wolf and a goblin; and he had help doin' that.
The thing that definitely did happen then was that the greenskin leaders showed up. There was a shaman, surrounded by some big bastards in full plate. And there was a warleader, ridin' on the back of a damn wyvern. Now, this was before the Beacon, so I don't mind tellin' yer that I thought we were in trouble, when that beast turned up. Sometimes, yer don't realise just how good you've become.
The wizard tried to fireball the newcomers, but the shaman did somethin' to counter that. Ulfgar didn't seem to care much, though: he just laid into the big lizard with everythin' he had.
Redfist, on the other hand, has his mind on the spellcaster. Professional rivalry, I guess. He charged in, practically over the top of the orc's guards, and hammered him pretty hard. The bodyguards tried to hammer him back, but that floatin' shield of his turned a lot of the blows aside.
Since Ulfgar seemed to be holdin' his own, I went in to deal with the shaman and his boys, as well. Got in under his guard and damn near took his arm off, but he'd managed to heal himself a bit before I got there, so he stayed on his feat. He made the mistake o' tryin' to return the favour, though: used on o' them woundin' spells on me. Didn't anyone tell 'im Dwarves don't die easy?
Redfist was poundin' the bodyguards into the ground, one at a time, so I was free to introduce the shaman to my axe, again. Bastard didn't go down, though. Tough customer, I'll give him that.
That's it - I remember now. While this were goin' on, one o' Redfist's hounds had killed the gobbo that was givin' the feeb so much trouble, so sissy boy decided to go help Ulfgar. The gods know someone needed to: the orc and its overgrown lizard were hittin' him pretty hard.
So, in any case, the feeb tried to do his fancy 'flip past 'em and cut 'em from behind' routine. It works pretty well, if you've got a clue what you're doin'. So, of course, that all ended with the feeb on the ground, his intestines spillin' out all over the place. So instead o' one person to save, we had two.
Fortunately, the wizard was a bit more use than his sissy boy pal, and blasted the shaman with those energy missiles o' his. The orc finally dropped, so I headed over to give Ulfgar a hand.
I'll give that dwarf credit, though - he was a tough customer. He dropped the wyvern by taking its head clean off, then waited until I came in on the orc's flank to step back and down a potion. The orc was pretty tough, but by now he was about the only one left standing on his side o' the battle. Poor bastard didn't even have the satisfaction of getting dropped by one o' us - Redfist's hounds came up and one of them ripped his leg off at the knee. Nasty way to go, though I'm bettin' he'd done worse.
Ulfgar saved the feeb - he always was a bit soft - and Redfist came over after droppin' the last guard. Once he'd got everyone patched up, he sent the levies around collectin' heads, so we could spike 'em on the road into town. Greenskins aren't bright, but make a message clear enough, and the rest'll stay away.
We dragged the whole damn wyvern back to the town. Redfist wanted to show it off to the locals - remind 'em again how tough we were - and the wizard had plans fer it, too, as it turned out. Redfist damn near hit the roof when he found out about that O' course, once he calmed down, he let the wizard keep it. Realised that havin' a zombie wyvern on your side ain't a bad thing, I'm thinking.
It was a couple of days after that, that the Duke o' Durham turned up. But that's another story - there's nothin' more to tell of the battle at the turnpike."
