seasong's Light Against The Dark (FEB 06)
- Thread starter seasong
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Greybar
No Trouble at All
Whew. If you posted a Story Hour, held down a job, and wrote a Iron DM entry at the same time I think I'd just surrender the round to you... [grin]
John
p.s. I'm down to the editing part of the entry. I figure that means I have 80% of my work ahead of me. It is now 7pm...
John
p.s. I'm down to the editing part of the entry. I figure that means I have 80% of my work ahead of me. It is now 7pm...
seasong
First Post
Victory
It looked like a suicide run. Particularly to the troops being asked to do it. After all, it was hard enough holding the orcs off when they were just holding ground. And everyone remembered Eastpass.
Still, the people of Theralis are a tough breed. Soldiering is a rite of adulthood, risking their lives for their home an accepted fact of life. And Captain Agina was known as the hero of Eastpass, the one who lost the fewest soldiers, the one who went toe-to-toe with orcs over the last few stragglers, and knocked them down. So when the call came, the Theralese soldiers hefted shield and began marching downslope. The spearmen beat their hafts on the ground and shouted, drowning out the beating of orc war drums. The arcanists, reshuffled for an emphasis on long range attacks, waited for leaders to emerge for them to target. Those spell casters who couldn't do direct damage were shuffled into the midst of the soldiers, to lend what aid they could. Greppa, grouped with the Keraunesti, was still summoning earth spirits into soldiers when the front line hit the orcs.
For Greppa, the entire fight was one long nightmare. As orcs fell under the shields, he kept seeing them, in his mind's eye, break through and hold a spear to his neck. Still, he summoned earth spirits until tired, then tried hard to keep up with the other Keraunesti as they marched into and through orcs. Then, just as he thought he wouldn't march another step, the retreat was called, and orcs began to run away... he blinked. Once, twice.
An important lesson was learned: it was not power, or at least not raw power, but how it was applied. What had in desperation failed at Eastpass, had worked splendidly at Theralis Ridge... but the execution was different, he could see.
He studied the backs of the orcs, thoughtful.
For Athan, the entire fight was one long dream. Shouting with the other Keraunesti, he shoved his spear into and through the throat of a raging orc. As the shield carrier in front of him lodged the top of the tower shield into another orc's chin, Athan thrust his spear along the edge and neatly took the orc's head off. One orc, perhaps driven insane with fear, clambered over a shield only to get three spears in the chest, one of them Athan's. He and the others heaved, and lifted the orc high above them before reversing their efforts and flinging his body back over the shields into the waiting orcs. On and on and on they fought, indomitable and invincible against the dark horde.
It was glorious.
For Merideth, it was a start. The fighting was necessary, but she was beginning to believe that the birthmarks all three bore meant something more than being soldiers. She meant to find out what. In the meantime, she did what was necessary... but kept firmly in mind that she was going to go higher than this.
From the orc perspective, the battle very nearly over. They'd sacrificed individuals, but won a very handy moral victory, and had lost far fewer than normal, for the length of time. And the enemy... the enemy had lost more than the tribe, and could afford it less. And soon, according to the chief, they would attack, just as the grugach's will reached bottom. The humans would rout, and orcs would own the grugach city.
This, they told themselves, was the best kind of war.
And then the first yells. The grugach were advancing. Fast. Their shields held high, the enemy ran down the slope and the orcs nearest the midpoint of the mountain were shield-rushed, knocked down, and trampled before the first humans even managed to shove a spear downward, into suddenly vulnerable ribs. And, as the warband leaders began calling their bands together for battle, fireballs rained down on the strongest looking of them.
The psychological effect can not be over emphasized. The tribe was relaxed. Waiting for the call to a charge. The charge was brought to them. And hard.
As the Theralis troops slaughtered the orcs still grabbing their spears, as fireballs fell upon the heads of those who tried to organize... the tribe did the only thing they could. They ran.
First, however, they left the head of their chief on a pole, as an offering to appease the Theralese. When it was found, a great cry went up, and the Theralis shield wall retreated back up the mountain, where it belonged.
Bad. Worse.
A week passed after the surprising victory. Captain Agina received a number of laudations, as did the Keraunesti (and by extension, Athan, Greppa and Merideth). The three heroes returned to Greppa's tower, and thought about their next course of action. They decided to wait a bit, just to be sure about the orcs being gone, and Athan made a quick, half-day trip home.
Then, on the eve of the week's end, war drums were heard.
At first, there was simply anger - hadn't the orcs learned? - but that quickly gave way to confusion. It was not the same tribe. Indeed, it barely looked like a tribe at all. More than a dozen appearances greeted those who looked down the mountain slope, as if a few tens of warbands had joined from numerous tribes.
Still, the people of Theralis were prepared. The shield wall was already up, and they were ready to fight. The orcs waited until night finished falling, then attacked in the dark. Daylight spells dropped all around the sneaking orcs, and fireballs flew into their midst. It was a short fight.
A day passed, no attack. Night fell. Theralis readied. The orcs were heard marching upslope again. Daylight dropped upon them, and fireballs flew downward. This time, however, the orcs did not flee. They simply scattered.
And Miras, a middle-aged arcanist of good stature, standing perhaps fifteen feet left of Greppa and just starting to cast her second fireball... accellerated backward as if grabbed by some unseen force. As she hit the slope behind her, a fifty pound boulder shot up her chest from where it had hit, and bounced off her chin. She was dead.
Further down, two other arcanists were hit. One had caught the boulder in the face and his head had exploded like a droppde melon; the other one had been grazed, but was lying on the ground, clutching his leg and screaming.
Further down slope, just stepping out from among the trees as casually as a person might step from between curtains, were a threesome of giants.
It looked like a suicide run. Particularly to the troops being asked to do it. After all, it was hard enough holding the orcs off when they were just holding ground. And everyone remembered Eastpass.
Still, the people of Theralis are a tough breed. Soldiering is a rite of adulthood, risking their lives for their home an accepted fact of life. And Captain Agina was known as the hero of Eastpass, the one who lost the fewest soldiers, the one who went toe-to-toe with orcs over the last few stragglers, and knocked them down. So when the call came, the Theralese soldiers hefted shield and began marching downslope. The spearmen beat their hafts on the ground and shouted, drowning out the beating of orc war drums. The arcanists, reshuffled for an emphasis on long range attacks, waited for leaders to emerge for them to target. Those spell casters who couldn't do direct damage were shuffled into the midst of the soldiers, to lend what aid they could. Greppa, grouped with the Keraunesti, was still summoning earth spirits into soldiers when the front line hit the orcs.
For Greppa, the entire fight was one long nightmare. As orcs fell under the shields, he kept seeing them, in his mind's eye, break through and hold a spear to his neck. Still, he summoned earth spirits until tired, then tried hard to keep up with the other Keraunesti as they marched into and through orcs. Then, just as he thought he wouldn't march another step, the retreat was called, and orcs began to run away... he blinked. Once, twice.
An important lesson was learned: it was not power, or at least not raw power, but how it was applied. What had in desperation failed at Eastpass, had worked splendidly at Theralis Ridge... but the execution was different, he could see.
He studied the backs of the orcs, thoughtful.
For Athan, the entire fight was one long dream. Shouting with the other Keraunesti, he shoved his spear into and through the throat of a raging orc. As the shield carrier in front of him lodged the top of the tower shield into another orc's chin, Athan thrust his spear along the edge and neatly took the orc's head off. One orc, perhaps driven insane with fear, clambered over a shield only to get three spears in the chest, one of them Athan's. He and the others heaved, and lifted the orc high above them before reversing their efforts and flinging his body back over the shields into the waiting orcs. On and on and on they fought, indomitable and invincible against the dark horde.
It was glorious.
For Merideth, it was a start. The fighting was necessary, but she was beginning to believe that the birthmarks all three bore meant something more than being soldiers. She meant to find out what. In the meantime, she did what was necessary... but kept firmly in mind that she was going to go higher than this.
From the orc perspective, the battle very nearly over. They'd sacrificed individuals, but won a very handy moral victory, and had lost far fewer than normal, for the length of time. And the enemy... the enemy had lost more than the tribe, and could afford it less. And soon, according to the chief, they would attack, just as the grugach's will reached bottom. The humans would rout, and orcs would own the grugach city.
This, they told themselves, was the best kind of war.
And then the first yells. The grugach were advancing. Fast. Their shields held high, the enemy ran down the slope and the orcs nearest the midpoint of the mountain were shield-rushed, knocked down, and trampled before the first humans even managed to shove a spear downward, into suddenly vulnerable ribs. And, as the warband leaders began calling their bands together for battle, fireballs rained down on the strongest looking of them.
The psychological effect can not be over emphasized. The tribe was relaxed. Waiting for the call to a charge. The charge was brought to them. And hard.
As the Theralis troops slaughtered the orcs still grabbing their spears, as fireballs fell upon the heads of those who tried to organize... the tribe did the only thing they could. They ran.
First, however, they left the head of their chief on a pole, as an offering to appease the Theralese. When it was found, a great cry went up, and the Theralis shield wall retreated back up the mountain, where it belonged.
Bad. Worse.
A week passed after the surprising victory. Captain Agina received a number of laudations, as did the Keraunesti (and by extension, Athan, Greppa and Merideth). The three heroes returned to Greppa's tower, and thought about their next course of action. They decided to wait a bit, just to be sure about the orcs being gone, and Athan made a quick, half-day trip home.
Then, on the eve of the week's end, war drums were heard.
At first, there was simply anger - hadn't the orcs learned? - but that quickly gave way to confusion. It was not the same tribe. Indeed, it barely looked like a tribe at all. More than a dozen appearances greeted those who looked down the mountain slope, as if a few tens of warbands had joined from numerous tribes.
Still, the people of Theralis were prepared. The shield wall was already up, and they were ready to fight. The orcs waited until night finished falling, then attacked in the dark. Daylight spells dropped all around the sneaking orcs, and fireballs flew into their midst. It was a short fight.
A day passed, no attack. Night fell. Theralis readied. The orcs were heard marching upslope again. Daylight dropped upon them, and fireballs flew downward. This time, however, the orcs did not flee. They simply scattered.
And Miras, a middle-aged arcanist of good stature, standing perhaps fifteen feet left of Greppa and just starting to cast her second fireball... accellerated backward as if grabbed by some unseen force. As she hit the slope behind her, a fifty pound boulder shot up her chest from where it had hit, and bounced off her chin. She was dead.
Further down, two other arcanists were hit. One had caught the boulder in the face and his head had exploded like a droppde melon; the other one had been grazed, but was lying on the ground, clutching his leg and screaming.
Further down slope, just stepping out from among the trees as casually as a person might step from between curtains, were a threesome of giants.
Last edited:
. Took a break to post this.
Greybar
No Trouble at All
B*strd!
Well, my Iron DM entry is posted so I can go back to enjoying Theralis. Wow! Raise them up in hope and then bring in the next challenge. I love how the overall conflict seems to be a sequence of one-up-manship. Orcs overun humans, Shield Wall crushes overrun, Orcs tossed over Wall create breakthrus, more dynamic Keraunesti defeat breakthrus, arcanists with fireballs defeat gathering, giants defeat exposed arcanists ...
So the arcanists were counting on local shield-holders to keep any stray arrows or spears away before the giants arrived? Or did they trust in the equivalent of a protection from arrows spell too much?
John
seasong
First Post
They relied on range. Upslope, and at the far-end of fireball range (500 feet), it's a rare orc that could make that throw (hell, Athan couldn't make that throw). For a giant with class levels, Far Shot and a 100 foot range increment, however, it's fish in a barrel time, even with penalties for upslope.Greybar said:
With that said, most mimicked Kyriotes' arrow protection spell as well, for as much good as it did.
Barastrondo
First Post
Okay, I've probably enjoyed this Story Hour without offering words of support in return for far too long than is polite, but...
This is just an excellent read, seasong. I like the characters, I like the NPCs, I like the "gritty enough to be realistic without being A Song of Ice and Fire" mood...
...and I love the worldbuilding. The academia posts are almost my favorite parts of the Story Hour (but only almost, mind). The hell hunters are an example of how the fiendish template should be used in more games. The orcs are fascinating and sympathetic, but not so much that you can't root for the heroes. The notes on trade, alcohol, recreation, training, language — all much appreciated. I'm one of those folks who enjoys fantasy RPGs most of all when I get to either design my own worlds or explore someone else's, and your updates are just so detailed and evocative that I feel like I'm having as much fun as your players. Shameful, really.
So thanks for sharing with us, and don't kill yourself trying to do seventy-six updates a week. They will be read and appreciated, of course, and we'll find them no matter how many threads you split the story among, but be sure and pace yourself so you don't keel over before the campaign is well and done.
This is just an excellent read, seasong. I like the characters, I like the NPCs, I like the "gritty enough to be realistic without being A Song of Ice and Fire" mood...
...and I love the worldbuilding. The academia posts are almost my favorite parts of the Story Hour (but only almost, mind). The hell hunters are an example of how the fiendish template should be used in more games. The orcs are fascinating and sympathetic, but not so much that you can't root for the heroes. The notes on trade, alcohol, recreation, training, language — all much appreciated. I'm one of those folks who enjoys fantasy RPGs most of all when I get to either design my own worlds or explore someone else's, and your updates are just so detailed and evocative that I feel like I'm having as much fun as your players. Shameful, really.
So thanks for sharing with us, and don't kill yourself trying to do seventy-six updates a week. They will be read and appreciated, of course, and we'll find them no matter how many threads you split the story among, but be sure and pace yourself so you don't keel over before the campaign is well and done.
Greybar
No Trouble at All
That's right, there isn't much in the way of longbows in the area is there?
Are slings and spears the primary range weapons then? Are local shortbows not produced with military-level power (i.e. only good for squirrels) or has the society just not developed the bow/crossbow idea?
Answering myself by reading the Theralis page:
John
Are slings and spears the primary range weapons then? Are local shortbows not produced with military-level power (i.e. only good for squirrels) or has the society just not developed the bow/crossbow idea?
Answering myself by reading the Theralis page:
John
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Hey Seasong,
Again another great entry. Nothing like a giant-sized migraine to ruin your day. I was just curious if you were going to put your world-building musings in the pdf version you're creating? Either in text or as an appendix.
Just thought I'd let you know good job keep up the good work. Also, I like your .pdf version it looks very nice! I wish more story hours would adopt this policy makes for great printing and easier reading!
Delgar
P.S. hop on over to my gladiator thread in plots and help a poor D.M out!
Again another great entry. Nothing like a giant-sized migraine to ruin your day. I was just curious if you were going to put your world-building musings in the pdf version you're creating? Either in text or as an appendix.
Just thought I'd let you know good job keep up the good work. Also, I like your .pdf version it looks very nice! I wish more story hours would adopt this policy makes for great printing and easier reading!
Delgar
P.S. hop on over to my gladiator thread in plots and help a poor D.M out!
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