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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Joe Jolly" data-source="post: 7494933" data-attributes="member: 6870626">4 Neth, 4718 - 18 Neth, 4718It was Katarina’s idea to search for the Sixth Knot. The entry in Thorn’s journal that had referenced that hitherto unknown individual or individuals clued her in to their potential importance. Apparently Thorn had sent the Sixth to the mainland to recruit an army that would in turn be used to confront the Fire Axe’s horde and “save” Matharyn. Using one of the unbroken twin seals with the numeral VI on it, Tardaesha cast a scrying spell. What she saw was a nondescript man seated at a desk counting several stacks of gold coins. Another individual entered the room, dressed in armor with captain’s insignia on the shoulders. “Any word, my lord?”“No,” the first man shook his head in frustration. “I’m still awaiting news from our benefactor.”“I hope it’s soon,” the captain sighed. “The men are getting restless, and with the lot we’ve gathered, that’s never a good thing.”_________________________________________________________________ Cedrick Malthus reclined in the bedchamber of the headquarters he’d commandeered inside one of the finest inns in Cheliax, and enjoyed the company of a few well chosen camp followers. He was still waiting, patiently he thought, for a message and a pile of money he fully expected the devil Tiadora to deliver any day now.He wasn’t waiting alone. Bunked outside the holdings of a terrified local lord sat twenty thousand mercenaries, and those mercenaries weren’t just any professional soldiers – they were the cream of the continent's killers, cutthroats, criminals, gangsters, pirates, thieves and bandits. Those vile bastards had been promised more than the initial payment that drew them to the rendezvous. They had been promised that if they won the war in Talingarde, they would each be given land. They sought not just gold but plunder and a fresh start in a distant land.Cardinal Thorn had invested the lion's share of his accumulated wealth hiring the twenty thousand professional killers. Cedrick had travelled the continent seeking out bandit chieftains, mob bosses, mercenary commanders and petty warlords. To each one he spoke of a distant island in the grip of a monstrous army. He spoke of a cunning plan to ambush that army, seize its plunder and take control of the island. Not one of those villains understood the full scheme but they all believed that they were a critical part of it and would profit immensely from its success. Cedrick needed money to finish the deal. Transporting the army to the island was not cheap. He needed at least 75,000 gp. to hire the flotilla of ships and outfit and pay his army. He would have preferred twice that. With the additional money he could hire and transport the mercenary army of the villainous Herr Volker Eisenmark (another 5,000 men!) alongside his collected forces. Cedrick had been promised that the funds would arrive shortly, and so ... he waited. He knew his position was precarious. Already his army was attracting attention from local kings and potentates. It was only a matter of time before they took direct action against him. But honestly, that was not what had Cedrick sweating. Local lords he could handle. Assassins he could dodge. The constabulary he could bribe. No, it was his own men that truly terrified Cedrick Malthus. He had made a lot of promises to very dangerous, very well-armed men. If the gold didn’t materialize soon, he knew his life would shortly not be worth a plug copper piece. He had already broken several clay seals and sent increasingly urgent messages to Thorn but so far had been greeted with only silence. He was becoming more and more certain that something had gone wrong. He considered every day running but wondered, amidst the wine and women, if there was any place far enough to flee. It was one thing to betray a single thieves' guild. What Cedrick would effectively be doing was betraying all of them ... at once.__________________________________________________________________So it was that Cedric Malthus was both alarmed and relieved when the Ninth Knot, led by Tardaesha, showed up at his door. “Cardinal Thorn is no more,” Tardaesha announced without preamble as she sat down at Cedric’s table uninvited. “Does that mean you’re in charge now?” Cedric asked smugly.“It does indeed,” Tardaesha replied, letting just a flash of her fangs show. “So, what do you have for us?”Cedric leaned back in his chair and spread his arms expansively.“Camped right outside this quaint little port town are twenty thousand mercenaries,” he said.  “And when I say mercenaries, I mean twenty thousand of the continent's finest and most merciless killers, cutthroats and criminals. I have spent the last few years bribing my way into the councils and cavern hideouts of every bandit lord, mob boss and murder gang on the continent. They've gathered here not because they have any love for me. Most scarcely even know my name. In truth, most would murder me in a heartbeat if they thought there was any gold in it. No, they are here not because of personal loyalty, but because they have been promised something. They have been promised that if they aid in conquering the island of Talingarde, that they will be given land and a fresh start. They have been promised a future in a far off green and pleasant land. They are here because I have sold them hope, my new mistress. I have sold them not a small measure of hope. Oh, no. Small measures would not have gathered so large a congregation of scum and villainy. I have sold them hope by the long ton. I have fed it to them in great cauldrons. I have sold them a river of hope. If you don't give them the money they have been promised then that hope will fade. And then all that will be left in that nearby camp is twenty thousand of the most ruthless, desperate men ever assembled in one place. And when that happens, be somewhere else, my dread masters. So, do we have a deal?” Tardaesha looked calmly at her associates, and then back to Cedric.“I think we can come to some arrangement.”In the end, the Ninth Knot used the gold they had taken from Thorn’s vaults to pay off all of Cedric’s debts, and even cover the additional fee demanded by Herr Volker Eisenmark, who commanded five thousand veteran mercenaries, including two thousand heavy infantry wielding halberds and greatswords, another two thousand crossbowmen, and a thousand heavy lancers  – his feared Kriegsreiter Truppe. Malthus swore to Tardaesha that he could have her army on Talingarde’s shores within the week._____________________________________________________________________The Fire-Axe's victorious army had outlived its usefulness. One way or another the monsters had to be dealt with. If not stopped, the horde would pillage south and finally arrive at its promised prize – the city of Matharyn. The monsters would burn that city to the ground and then break apart. The scattered tribes of bugbears, hill giants, trolls and humanoids would then infest the southern peninsula and be almost impossible to permanently uproot and destroy. They would trouble the kingdom of Talingarde for decades to come. Now, while the horde was concentrated, was the one chance to smash the forces of the Savage North and end their threat to Talirean power forever. When Cardinal Thorn entered the command tent of Sakarot Fire-Axe, the bugbear chieftain immediately dropped to one knee. “My Lord,” he said. “To what do I owe this honor?”“Rise, Fire-Axe,” came an familiar voice, but not that of Thorn’s. Sakarot looked up quizzically, just as Thorn’s face melted and changed to that of Tardaesha.“What is the meaning of this?” Sakarot snapped, rising quickly to his feet.“Be at peace,” Tardaesha said, holding her hands out placatingly. “I have news that you may not want to hear. Cardinal Thorn is no more. I have taken his place as the voice of Asmodeus.”Sakarot’s hand went for his axe.“I do not want to harm you, my friend,” Tardaesha said, a touch of menace entering her voice, “but you must hear me out. Thorn failed in his duty, and was found wanting. I was mandated to finish what he could not.”She held out the infernal contract she had signed in blood.The Fire-Axe reached for the contract hesitantly, but then unfurled it and read it’s contents.“So be it,” he said finally, as he handed the parchment back. “If you are the new  masters of the Nine Knots, then I will remain your First Knot. Hail Asmodeus!”He turned and pulled back the heavy cloth flap of the pavilion, and looked out across the great horde he had assembled.  His demeanor changed. He was no longer the jovial warlord, master of ten thousand killers. Instead, he turned dour and dark.“So it has come at last, eh?” He did not turn back. “The time of my betrayal has arrived.” “As you always knew it must,” Tardaesha said quietly.He let the tent flap fall closed.“Then let it be done. I have known the moment was close at hand for some time. I believe I even know the perfect place to see it done.  A few days march from here is the small town of Brandelburn.”He moved to the table and unrolled a map.“Just to the south of Brandelburn are open fields surrounded on three sides by bluffs. My most trusted scouts spotted them days ago. The bluffs do not appear that high, but they are loose rock. Climbing them is all but impossible.  Any army that enters those fields is entering a slaughter house. Archers could take position on the three bluffs and rain death upon the force with little threat of retaliation. The bluffs would become a natural battlement. There would be no cover for their targets and no way to retreat if cavalry were to flank us from the rear. An army so cornered would have only one choice. They could run across the entire length of the field sustaining countless losses and enter here into this small break. There they could take shelter from the hail of arrows and reform. Of course if there were an elite group of infantry already positioned there that held the break, then they would stack up at the entryway. It would be a slaughter. Holding the break would be dangerous. Only the hardiest of diehards and my most elite would make it so far. If they escape, then they will never call forth an army as potent as my horde, true, but they will make immense amounts of trouble. It is probably best for you to hold the break personally.” “And where will you be in all this?” Tardaesha asked.Sakarot shrugged.“I have never led my horde from the front. I have always been in the midst of my killers and there I will remain. You will have to arrange my escape. Can you do this?”“Of course,” Tardaesha nodded.“Fine then.” The Fire-Axe turned away again. “I will be at Brandelburn in seven days. Be ready. We will cross the field at dawn. There will all our glories perish.”_______________________________________________________________With the dawn, one week later, Sakkarot emerged from his tent, wearing the magical armor given to him by Thorn. He hefted his namesake axe and watched it flame with infernal fire.  More than just armor, he was also appointed in a fine cloak and golden jewelry – the rich spoils of dead Daveryn. Shagoroth was quickly at his side. “A fine morning for marching, ” the bugbear underling growled. “Each day Matharyn draws ever closer. It will be your greatest victory.”“Matharyn... ” mused the Fire-Axe. “Yes, not far at all.”“Your orders?” Shagoroth asked.“We'll keep beside this stream and follow it south all day,” Sakkarot replied. “The scouts report it's clear. Maybe we'll catch a few farmers and millers off-guard who weren't smart enough to flee. ”“The lads love the sport,” said the Night-Mane with a wicked chuckle. “And what about the scouts? The wolf-riders are almost all back. You want me to send them out again this morning? Those hills and bluffs ahead should be searched for ambushers.”“Ambushers, here?” answered the Fire-Axe. “We haven't even seen an enemy patrol in days. I think they concentrate what remains of their forces south in defense of the city. Besides, these low bluffs offer scant cover. We'll see any enemies miles away. No, let the scouts stay with the horde for a while and rest up. We've been driving them hard. We'll need them fresh when we approach the southern peninsula and close upon the capital. The humans won't just hand us their largest city.”The Night-mane nodded. “ As you wish, mighty Sakkarot.”“Now break camp,” Sakkarot commanded. “I want this rabble marching within the hour.”The Fire-Axe watched his lieutenants begin to scurry about carrying out his orders. He grasped his axe firmly. There. It was done. The trap was set and his oaths were fulfilled. “Time to die, my friends,” he whispered only to himself. ___________________________________________________________________The Horde of Sakkarot Fire-Axe marched into the fields of Brandelburn. The low bluffs that rose to either side did nothing to arouse their suspicion. They marched south certain of their invincibility. And that’s when the trap was sprung. Cavalry appeared to the north, flanking the great horde. The entire column wheeled to face the foe and confusion reigned. Then the archers appeared on the bluffs. They loosed great clouds of arrows that fell into the massed column. Faced with an unexpected enemy on three sides, panic gripped the horde.Suddenly their great commander rose to the challenge of the moment.“An ambush!” Sakkarot screamed. “South, my killers! We'll form a defensive line at the break!” The horde answered their commander's call and charged away from the cavalry towards the small gap. The doomed raiders had to cross four-hundred yards of clear ground while protected archers chose their targets without fear. The fields of Brandelburn became a slaughter house. The targets were so thick and plentiful that even unaimed arrows could not help but hit something. As the carnage began, many of the mounted scouts broke ranks and fled the massacre back towards the cavalry line. The fleeing wolf-riders ran headlong into Herr Eisenmark’s veteran mercenary cavalry – the Kriegsreiter Truppe. The scarred and merciless mercenary commander left no survivors. Shagoroth Night-Mane led a small band of more elite bug-bears, ogres and hill giants against the western slope. The bluffs were not high – only rising fifteen feet in places. He hoped to climb the walls and clear the archers.  The giants in the band could perhaps even reach a few of the closer archers without having to climb. It was then that the Night-Mane discovered the brilliance of the trap. The bluffs were not high, true. But the stone girding their face was loose shale and crumbling limestone. Even the smallest amount of weight caused them to crumble away. The bugbears that tried to climb the wall tumbled back down. Hundreds of arrows fell like rain into their confused ranks. The giants earned special attention, falling dead so covered in arrows that they looked like weird feathered beasts. The Night-Mane, despite all of this, actually made it up the cliff. As he faced a hundred armed men alone, he charged defiantly, hewing into their ranks. They piled upon him and cut him down with a dozen blows. Soon the field was littered with the dead and dying. Bugbear corpses burdened with the loot of Daveryn adorned the field by their thousands. Goblins clambered so thickly that in places, a single arrow impaled three of them. Troll corpses burned with a dozen flaming arrows. But the battle was still not entirely won. At the Break, a small band of diehards charged forth. They were led by one particularly hard and ornery hill giant barbarian known as Arn Flintskin. He and his small band actually reached the breach alive and still ready for a fight. Unfortunately for him, the Ninth Knot was waiting. The slaughter was total, with the exception of a squad of frost giants. Those were given quarter, as Tardaesha called to them and told them that their queen would grant them amnesty if they laid down their arms. They were quick to comply. As soon as the Knot defeated Arn Flintskin and his die-hards, the field of battle was theirs. The cohorts of archers eventually could find no further targets, and then, with a great cry, the infantry swept around the bluff and entered the field. The archers too broke their cover and ran down the crumbling bluffs amongst the sea of their victims.Those warriors were not there to fight. They were there because they knew that the Horde of Sakkarot Fire-Axe bore the pillaged treasures of the borderlands and lost Daveryn. They were there to loot the looters. What the mercenary army discovered was a scene of brutal carnage. Littering the ground were ten-thousand dead monsters. Blood pooled up everywhere. The once beautiful little river and spring had been transformed into a fountain of gore and monster ichor. Carrion birds already picked at the dead. The few survivors groaned in agony clutching at their wounds. They lived only long enough for the mercenary warriors to end their misery as the cutthroat mob began the gory business of looting.Soon the day wore away and the sun began to set. Great bonfires of burning corpses filled the valley with the acrid smoke of roasting monster flesh. In great columns of smoke the last of the Fire-Axe's horde faded into memory. The trap was so effective that it was difficult to imagine how anything could have survived. There were scattered tales of a few monsters making it up the bluffs at a few easy to climb points. Some of those killers might have escaped. But even they were mostly killed as the cavalry patrolled the area around the battlefield. What no one in the mercenary army had were prisoners. The idea never even occurred to them. Mercy was not a natural state for that band of murderers and thieves.A few local townsfolk had ridden out from the surrounding hills and watched everything that was happening in the valley. They rode off just as suddenly as they appeared, and soon began to spread the good news. The Horde of Sakkarot Fire-Axe had been destroyed.</blockquote>

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