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Message: <blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 2952001" data-attributes="member: 1210">From the mountain monastery of the Yips, our heroes move back down onto the plains of Zacradose.  It takes most of the next week to bring Federico up to speed on the events that the Axe of Oblivion sucked from his memory; from the Dogtooth Isles (Federico doesn’t even remember Dogtooth, or the loss of Timothy, or... so much else!) to the present is an empty space in the halls of his mind.On the way down, our heroes pause long enough for Ari to find and make friends with a massive grey wolf.  Then they find themselves in the middle of a disorganized revolution, seemingly torn between conflicting leaders and without much overall direction.  “These guys are never going to make any real change like this,” complains Nara.  “Where’s the leadership??”As it turns out, of course, the leadership had gone off to try to destroy Stackler’s mind flayer puppeteers and their ally, Lord Obliviax.  In other words- our heroes are the head of the revolution.  And, of course, since their memories had been robbed by Lord Obliviax and his memory moss- they remember none of it.  Still, once the situation becomes clear (or at least, a little less murky), the halflings (and their kobold allies) seize the reins of the rebellion, and in a few weeks fires are burning throughout the island as Stackler’s troops attempt to put down the guerillas that oppose them.  According to the party’s immediate subordinates, they had arranged some kind of major distraction in the north while a smaller force attacks Stackler City (“King” Stackler’s capitol).  But even this smaller force is a distraction, as well- so that our heroes can enact an audacious plan that they came up with during the time that they cannot remember: they will sneak in through the sewers, emerge within Stackler’s palace via a hidden grate that a disloyal architect had informed the revolution about, and capture or kill Stackler himself!  “Cut off the head,” Erasmuz says, rubbing his chubby hands together, “and the body will perish.”So, for a few days, all they can do is wait for the appointed date.  So, naturally, Tron busies himself smoking crahk, which a few officers of the revolution are more than happy to surreptitiously- and freely- supply him with.***The assault on Stackler City, consisting mostly of archers and irregulars, doesn’t have much of a hope in a fair fight.  Loyalist troops ride and march out to attack any revolutionary troop concentrations that reveal themselves, but the constant harassment of arrows- many of them soaked in pitch and set aflame- keeps any serious sorties from coming out.  A few confiscated catapults and ballistae allow the revolutionaries to pull almost all of Stackler City’s defenders to the southeastern side of the city (where the main thrust of the attack is coming), but occasional flaming arrows from the other sides keep the defenders moving around the walls constantly, trying to prevent any force elements from gathering against a mostly-unprotected section of wall.  Precious men are diverted to lookout posts, just as the revolutionaries had intended. The largest single grouping of revolutionaries rides out on garen, galloping for the gates under cover of a volley of flaming arrows.  Bare instants before they reach the gate, a catapult stone sails into it, knocking the portcullis from its chain and sending it bouncing past the wall and into the side of a shop within the city.  The rebels bellow war cries as they charge in, meeting the loyalist defenders of the gate.  Pikes, glaives, swords and axes stab, swing, chop, thrust, parry and block.  The sound of war rings through the streets.  For a long moment, the defenders waver- and then they are reinforced, at the last moment, by a second squadron.  They hold against the revolutionaries, and another squad of archers atop the wall is rushing to fire on the aggressive rebel cavalry.Just in time, the attackers wheel away and retreat, leaving a dozen defenders wounded and half that many dead.  Two of the attackers fall as they retreat, taken from behind by the archers.  A few more fell against the city’s defenders.  The rest gallop away, curving off to the left.  The sergeant of the soldiers defending the destroyed portcullis begins bellowing for wood and stone, and the defenders begin creating a makeshift barrier.  Then a ballista bolt slashes through the defenders, doing horrific things to flesh and bone.  The cavalry unit swings back around, and as revolutionary archers fire a volley at the city’s protectors, the garen swing into charge formation.  This time, the defenders break.  They are fighting for money; the attackers are fighting for their freedom, for ideals.  In the end, given anything like equal troops, there is no doubt as to who will win.  The revolution does not have the gear of Stackler’s loyalists, but they have heart.  As the defenders’ morale breaks and they start to flee, a great cheer rings out from the rebels assaulting the city.  The cavalry moves in, hunting enemy emplacements, and soon the other revolutionaries rush the city as well.  There is no holding them back.  All over, the story is the same: once faced with death in combat with no city wall to hide behind, Stackler’s troops lose their stomach for fighting.  Many flee; others surrender.  And when the halflings that have led them to this pass emerge on a balcony of Stackler’s palace bearing their would-be despot, the rebels cheer and the loyalists lose much of what heart they have left.  Some few, especially those led by especially cruel, especially loyal men, continue the fight.  The last of it won’t end for almost a week.  But the battle has clearly fallen to the rebels.  The next few days are a matter of cleaning up.  The revolutionaries ask politely for Stackler’s crown, but our heroes were kind of thinking it was loot.  A discussion begins, but does not end, about what to do with it.   Several of our heroes suggest giving it up, while several others suggest keeping it until they are somewhere where they can sell it.  Meanwhile, it is becoming apparent that something new needs to be set up to govern the island; and the rebels are looking to our heroes for help.  In comic misunderstanding, one of the local aristocrats declares Naomi “Queen of the Halflings” in a stirring speech about the future of Zacradose.  She just snorts with laughter and looks for something to do to get her out of town for a while.  After asking around, she ascertains that there is a small outlying halfling village that is occupied by Stackler loyalists.  When our heroes investigate, however, the occupiers can’t wait to surrender.  They know that the gig is up.  The party makes the acquaintance of two new halflings worth mentioning during this time: Feldspeth and Rock, a pair of local rangers from the oppressed town.  While Feldspeth remains behind in the village, Rock joins the party’s wanderings, at least for the time being.  Whether he will stay with them upon their departure from Zacradose, none can yet say.The village feasts them as only a halfling village can, and then the party returns to Stackler City- which the halflings decide to rename Bacon Hill, and begin spreading the word to that effect.  Tron stays well-supplied with crahk, thanks to his friends in the revolution.  Stackler is put on trial, but it is really a formality.  A few days later he is hanged by the neck until he is dead.  Now the remaining loyalists throw down their arms; there is no point fighting for a dead man.  Amnesty is now their only hope.The party’s internal discussions turn- as they often do- to the Prophecy of the Halflings, and our heroes begin discussing who might know something about it.  Great halfling sages or scholars; perhaps powerful beings from the other planes.  Maybe another elemental weird; it was, after all, a water weird that gave the party their first clues about the Promised Land, and spoke unto them the Prophecy.Then the party finds a very interesting lead, at least about a hole in their memories.One of the mysteries from the missing period in their memories is the tattoo they all bear now (except for those, such as Tron and Rock, who were not with the party previously).  On their left forearms, each of the clan wears a unicorn tattoo, done in Naomi’s style.  Obviously, this is a very weird choice for her; even the one on her own arm, which is in a state of obvious sexual excitement and looks quite lascivious, still has a certain noble and good quality to it just by virtue of the fact that it is a unicorn.  Why would she put that on herself? One morning, word comes that there is a King of the Unicorns on Zacradose, in the northern woodlands.  More importantly, our heroes had apparently- also in the ‘lost time’ that they can’t remember- made alliance with him, for he had helped distract Stackler’s loyalists in the north.  “Well,” says Nara, “I bet he can answer some questions for us.”“Let’s go find out,” suggests Ari.Our heroes head north.Next Time: King of the Unicorns!</blockquote>

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