The Battle of Gaxmoor M4 2738 YE
Following the brilliantly successful assassination of the Ogre Magus Saburo Sato, the evil genius behind the forces occupying Gaxmoor, the League army launched its assault under Captain Sigurd of Ravensmark. With them came an elite strike team under the famed warlord Lu Bu: the cleric Gregory Belmont, rogue Sly Peterson and witch Xun Huo, hired by Margrave Kanor for the sole purpose of destroying the Cambion Heracules. The humanoid and human mercenary defenders were swept aside as the League army drove towards the Palace. Heracules was badly wounded by a volley of enchanted arrows and retreated under cover of ethereal form towards the Palace, the rogue Sly Peterson and the rest of the Strike Team in hot pursuit.
But when the Royal Palace is occupied by League soldiery, no resistance is encountered. However, in an upper chamber a gruesome sight is discovered. The room is awash with blood, not all of it human, and strewn with body parts - the decapitated, dismembered and stripped corpses of the 'great' Lu Bu, Gregory Belmont, Sly Peterson and Xun Huo. Of Heracules there is no sign.
Aftermath
Sigurd was found by the margrave observing the ruined city from the window of the top floor of the palace as the sun dawned. His wounds had nearly healed thanks to the countless clerics that were travelling with the party, but the Margrave was well aware that certain wounds never healed completely and that the battle had its toll on his mind, as his face was white with strain and exhaustion. He almost barely noticed Larius, who sat soundless in a corner of his room, watching over the captain while polishing the glinting blade of his short sword.
"You and your friends did well today." The margraves' red cloak swooshed along the dirty marble floor as he walked up to Sigurd.
"We did what we pledged, my liege." Sigurd's shoulders tensed. The costly golden chain mail had been replaced by a simple white shirt and breeches. The Margrave smiled nervously. The nordic warrior was no doubt very well favoured in the courts of the Scornic league. But no doubt he had ambitions of his own. What plans did he ponder in the silent hours of the dark, in his sleepless nights?
"The very fact that we are standing here, in a palace of a city two thousand years old, speaks for itself."
"There's still work to do." Sigurd stated.
"Yes, but..."
"I know, I know."
There was a pause in the conversation.
"So what will you do then?" Tharkand finally touched on his intention of seeing Sigurd this late hour.
"If they don't surrender, I won't rest until they're all dead and buried."
"No Sigurd... I wasn't thinking about the orcs. After all this... is over."
Sigurd turned around and looked Tharkand into his face with his weary and blood shot eyes.
"It's no longer up to me. Those are matters of the state. You will need to repopulate this city so that it never ever falls into darkness again. But I am just... a traveller without a home. What do I know."
"I am willing to prolong the contract - and ensure you a well-paid position as a captain of Dulleaberg. You will no doubt be knighted and you'll have what you've always wanted. Land. A home for yourself and your family."
It was a lost cause. The Margrave could see the restless spirit flicker before him, running away from himself.
"I... am grateful.". Larius raised his attention from the sword. "But I cannot accept. I suggest Larius here. He is a fine man, allready an experienced leader. Over two thousand years old"
The Margrave and Sigurd smiled at the joke. Larius seemed to become slightly agitated in his corner. The Margrave shifted his attention to Larius.
"Would you? I mean, you allready know this city like the back of your hand. I could make you governor."
"I do graciously decline, my'lord. My place is with Sigurd." Larius said, with a certain forced strain in his voice.
Sigurd turned to look out the window again. The Margrave shrugged and began to walk out. He could always find ambitious men who wanted glory and riches.
The problem was finding those who didn't desire the job, like these two.
"So I take it you and your friends are going away after this." The margrave stopped short just before the door was opened by the guards.
"My friends...I cannot speak for them. We're all trying to find our place in this world. I just don't belong... here." Sigurd said.
The margrave closed his eyes.
"I know. When you have a home, you are drawn to it. In the end - even though we are alone, banished, restless travellers on the face of this earth, seeking adventure and riches we will always go back. Go home, Sigurd, lest this world of intrigues devour you."
Sigurd turned around to reply to this astonishing answer, but the margrave was already gone.
Larius stood up from his table.
"Why d'you do that?" he said, sullen.
Sigurd sighed.
"Do what?"
"Ask him 'bout me. You know I'd never take that post."
"You sure? I'm not. Maybe I care too much. You should do like he said, settle down. Not foolishly walk into danger just because of me."
"Eh, well what 'bout you?"
Sigurd got this feverish look when he got weary and angry but Larius didn't stop at this - he'd seen Sigurd in a rage and knew this was only light mood swings compared.
"What about me?"
"Wha' danger? I won't just leave ye to it."
Sigurd clenched his fists. He had just about had enough for one day.
"What do you think, Larius?" He said with raised voice. "What d'you think? What was my plan ever since I came here? Riches. Glory. Land. None of which I really ever got. Or really wanted. No, the only thing I ever realised here in the borderlands is that I am foolishly pursuing all these assets while my people are divided or in chains, suffering under Imgart's tyrrany. How deccadent and blind I have been all the time! How could I ever have gone away from the Ravenmark? The tall white mountains, the mighty rivers... all running with blood of the innocent because no one was there to lift a shield for them. That is the sad truth of my homeland. But even at this moment, I am a coward. I am still unsure. And not a day goes by without the question rising in my thoughts. Should I go home? That is what bothers me, Larius. It really bothers me."
Sigurd sank down in a chair. Larius took some time thinking about what Sigurd had just said. Eventually the old warrior's stern face softened and turned into a compassionate smile as he placed his strong hand on the friend's shoulder.
"Then know ye, brother, that wither the outcome, I'll fight at yer side, to the end of this and everything."
Clearing the City
The next day the party was augmented by the Girru-priest Galak (Clr 9) and the Imarran rogue Maryse (Rog 9). They engaged in clearing the remaining evil forces from the Royal Citadel - a host of dretch demons in the Guest Palace led by two Hezrou, and a pack of Yuan-Ti in the old jail, were both swiftly dispatched. Investigating the residence of the High Priest of Urnus Gregaria, Claudius Varan, the party encountered his apparition, which told them of his seduction by the daemoness Tracassa, now seeking the Staff of Urnus in the labyrinth beneath Gaxmoor. The apparition instructed them to bring him the Staff, and gifted them with powerful magic items to aid them in their quest.
Next day, while Xyzzy studied the records within the Imperial library and Sigurd commanded the League armies clearing Gaxmoor of remaining orc and goblin forces, Captain Larius instructed Galak, Leopold the wizard, and Lorne the scout on remaining points of enemy resistance. The party battled ogres and trolls on the southern side of the city, before dispatching an oddly drama-enamoured half-dragon, half-fire giant fellow who had taken up residence in the Amphitheatre to the south-east. Finally, advised by the witch Grimhelda, they assaulted the residence of the Red Wizard Evander, protected by an earth elemental. Things went ill as he summoned the terrible Iron Devil from its Stygian pit, but the power of Girru dispelled the beast, and Evander was forced to flee, leaving the heroes triumphant.
