Rage of the Treekin
A Parley of Warlords : Tomorrow, in the woods
Hallbreaker stood
silently watching as the Forge Master walked into the distance alone and
headed towards the fiery beacon that illuminated the top of a distant
hill. Stroking his beard in one hand as his other unconsciously played
with the runes etched on Doorbiter his
axe of many battles, Hallbreaker worried after his Lord being both
unaccustomed to being away from him and the possibility of failing in
his oath to protect his liege. Also from the reports that the outlaying
Rangers were bringing in things did not look good. He had advised Forge
Master Gommil against attending the parley that the strange Fey Elven
Sorceress had arranged but Gommil’s mind was set arguing that the battle
with the vile Goblins, Humans and Lizardmen had seen to the death of
many Dwarfkin and their numbers were dangerously low. If diplomacy would
allow for the survival of the remains of Gommil’s battered force then
he would see it through and upon his return would swear to record the
names of his enemies in the Book of Grudges and caste a new Rune of
Smiting. Though Hallbreaker had not liked his words he could see the
sense in them as the news from the Rangers was grim. Although the Forge
Lord’s bodyguard held the rocky encampment they were currently
occupying, the news was that Humans had been seen to their east riding
heavy armored horses, a warband of the Old Croaks were hidden within the
marsh area to the south and to the north a vast host of vile Goblins
with their poisonous spider mounts has been spotted skirting the edges
of the Forest. Hallbreaker watched as his Lord disappeared in to the
darkness gripping the hammer of the Allfather which hung loosely around
his neck and whispered a prayer of protection for him. Turning to the
nearby veteran Hammerers he barked the order for readiness making his
own oath to be ready to march to Lord Goimmil if and more likely when he
called.
***
The slim lithe figure
of the Skink glided to a halt sitting perched on a rock besides the
campfire where the Magic Woman had called the parley. Slim of build and
with a grace born of both blessing from the Gods and practice within the
fighting pits of Coatl he settled into a cross legged position. Though
small in size Ixhua-Ekko, known to his birth-spawn as the Golden Face of
Pahahaux was Chieftan of both the Skink Spawnbloods and their larger
cousins who escorted them. Ixhau wore his feathered chieftains mantle
well with it’s many feathers displaying both his victories and
successful mating skills for all to see and be both jealous and wary of.
Though the brightly coloured feathers marked him well as a leader
amongst Slann they paled in comparison to the golden helmet he wore.
Thick and shaped to resemble the face of the Star-God Pahahaux it
signified him as truly one marked for greatness and was rumored to have
been given to him by the Great Priest himself. Few knew that many of
Ixhau’s victories both on the battlefield and in the spawn-pools was due
to the helmet and its ability for the Great Priest to speak to him in
his mind, allowing for him to predict the near future and be ready for
what it held. In exchange Ixhau was a servant of the Great Priest and
that suited him well seeming to him a fair trade off. The Great Priest
had sent him here ahead of his bodyguard and when He spoke Ixhau obeyed.
He waited as instructed for the other Lords to arrive. Ixhau could hear
whispers on the edge of his mind singing words of danger but sit he did
never the less and await the arrivals of the Kings of the young races
trusting both himself, the Great Priest and the blessing of Pahahaux to
keep him from harm.
***
Snitterbitch hissed
snapping at the vines that had jerked her face back so suddenly and
craned her stubby neck in a desperate but futile attempt to snap at her
rider. Above her, holding her barbed reins and sitting firmly on her
back Big Boss Spiderbitter lifted his spear as and waved his tribe on,
manically cackling to himself as the flood of Goblins surged around him
through the forest and headed towards the faint glow of the hill fire
beyond chanting their battle song as they went;
“Spin, weave and beat,
Cut, weave and eat,
Stabbing spear and poison war,
What spiders weave is our meat”
Spiderbitter stabbed down forcing Snitterbitch ahead
enjoying her hissing protests. He knew hiding on the edge of the forest
risked the wrath of the dreaded Forest Stalkers but so far they had
left his warband alone and who could blame them? The Goblins were many,
only a foolish Stalker would dare attack the tribe and if they did then
they would be food for us he grinned to himself. Thinking of food made
his belly rumble so pulling on a string hanging from the crude saddle he
sat on he retrieved the severed leg of a human who had been stupid
enough to challenge him in battle. Taking a bite of the decomposed flesh
he chewed as he rode. Ahead he could see the edge of the forest where
he would leave his tribe to ride ahead and meet the his enemies that had
been arranged by the Stalker Shaman. He could not understand why
enemies would meet, it was either kill or be killed in his eyes but if
the stupid humans wanted to die then who was he to stop them? He had no
doubt he would kill them all but to know of their numbers would be good,
after all he had a lot of Goblin mouths to feed and if they did feed on
his enemies then they would turn and feed on him and that would not do
at all. Pondering his future and prodding his spear once again in to the
ill tempered spider Spiderbitter rode on.
***
Giorgio rode alone his
heavy armor heavy on his bones as the his tired body was driven on by
his will alone. As his warcharger felt her way through the slippery
rocky slope that led to the firelight above him he scanned the darkness
around him ready for an ambush. He did not trust the fairy sorcerer who
had appeared unannounced to him and calling him to the parley on the
hill. He trusted neither the fey Elves or their magick and the Sorceress
stank of both which galled him but with the Fyrd gone, destroyed and
left for dead in the past two days of battle and with only the Knights
of the Order left alive what choice did he have? Unable to answer his
own question he continued towards the light above. Ahead of him he could
see a figure moving on the same path as he though unaware of him
following. His arm strayed towards his sword buckled at his side and he
rode closer until the figure, on hearing him turned to face him
revealing a broad sturdy frame and a beard long and flowing.
“Who be ye traveling in the darkness?” the figure asked, setting their legs square and sliding a large axe from his back.
“One who would not see
you down there if it was not for the flames in your beard” Giorgio
replied aware of the prickly nature of the Mountain Folk.
“Then come forward and
be recognised plains rider” the Dwarf said ominously. Clearly I am not
the only one who suspects a trap, mused Giorgio. Kicking the warcharger
into a slow canter rode forwards Giorgio pushed up his helm.
“I am Giorgio Custoras
Dwarf, well met. I am calling on the parley as decreed by the
Sorceress. We are at peace, though in truth I have my doubts of this
venture. Will you lower that axe and I in turn will not draw my blade?”
“Well met Giorgio of
the plains and be welcome for tonight for I too call parley, though your
nag looks like she is only fit for a stew. Come closer and we will go
together to this merry gathering together. I am Gommil the Forge Master
and I am already tired of this foolishness. Tonight I will walk will you
but tomorrow who knows.”
Giorgio slid off his
mount and led her to the red bearded dwarf whom turned is back on the
armoured knight in apparent ease and continued to climb the hill towards
the beconing flame of the campfire ahead.
Tonight my friend you
are one less axe at my back but tomorrow, who knows? Giorgio surmised as
he followed the dwarf. Let’s see how this ends.
***
Ixhua-Ekko sat on the
rock at peace with himself. Opposite of him stood the tall metal
wearing Human and with him the stocky muscled Dwarf. Nearby and foul
smelling, a Goblin sat atop a large red fanged spider. The tension in
the air was palatable as each argued of their superior strength and
claim to the treasures of the burial mounds though none seemed to be
able to dominate the others. The voices in his head continued to whisper
to him warning him of danger and though the other Lords of War were
oblivious to this Ixhau-Ekko calmly waited for the real foe who had
brought them all here to reveal themselves. He was not surprised as
before long the Dwarf and the Goblin after trading insults seemed poised
to ignore the parley and attack each other outright. Sensing that the
time of dange was near Ixhau stood up and gently slid off of his rock.
Scanning around him he
could only see the darkness, the moon and the trees and though his
senses screamed warning at him he could not see the attack that he knew
that would befall them all.
Suddenly it made
sense. Trees? There were no trees when he walked the stony path to the
top of the hill so how could there be so now?
It was at this moment the trees struck.
Surging around the
small group the forest closed in on them. The Human and Dwarf both quick
to react drew their weapons and back to back began hewing and chopping
at the wood limbs assailing them. The Goblin was not so quick however
and pulled by thick stiff arms of a nightmare Elm was dragged form his
mount and into the night.
Ixhau jumped clear of a
flailing wooden fist and pulsed a mind command to his retinue for help
whilst dodging the tall tree forms that now revealed themselves from the
darkness around him. Nearby he could hear the shouts of betrayal and
alarm from the other Lords no doubt summoning their own bodyguards to
their aid as he had done his own.
Leaping lightly down
the rocks Ixhau headed for the safety of the marsh but his way was
blocked by several huge Treemen who barred his path their willowy limbs
reaching for his small form. Beyond them he could see the he Spawnbloods
moving to his aid. Dodging a hefty blow as it mashed a rock whee he
once had stood he slid his blade into the armpit of the tree severing
the limb whilst dodging another cruel blow. Fighting hard but
overwhelmed Ixhau found himself backed into a corner. As the fists
rained down all he could do was shield himself and take the blows
unaware that his retinue was fast approaching. With too many to dodge
and parry he drifted into unconsciousness determined to die fighting. As
the final blow laid him low the last thing he remembered was the
feeling of being dragged away by his followers towards the darkness of
the woods ahead.
Similarly Spiderbitter
fared no better. Caught unawares by the forest approaching behind him
he found himself nearly dragged from the saddle and beaten by heavy
fists until he no longer knew what was going on. Luckily for him Snitterbitch bolted
and dragged him clear. Barely conscious he could see his Shaman leading
his warriors at the nearby Lizardmen and throwing curses at them
determined to prove his strength to take over the tribe should
Spiderbitter die. The Lizardmen, content with the recovery of
Ixhau-Ekko’s unconscious body seemed happy to withdraw and flee the
murderous night using their cold armored bodies to shield themselves of
the magick being thrown at them. Before long both the Goblin and
Lizrdman armies withdrew into the forest to use the cover to hide their
withdrawal unaware of what waited inside.
Giorgio rode clear of
the ambush on the hill calling on his Knights to his aid. Crashing
through the Treemen he quickly surveyed the lands around him. His
Griffon Guard had responded well and assuming the Dwarves were the
menace rode hard into combat charging the the Dwarf warriors whom were
hurrying towards the Forge Master, their massed charge bowling the small
forms over and their lances impaling those who had tired to form a
shieldwall. Alongside them the Knights of the Order moved into the flank
their bright banners held high and rode into the Dwarf Thunderers
moving to cover the attack again charging them before they could let
their shots off from their vicious longrifles. The clash of sword and
shield, Human and Dwarf echoed in the air as the two sides met, neither
willing to give ground whilst both deadly in their skills as the two
sides began to lay each other low. Giorgio eyed the combat and knew that
he would be victorious as the although their stubbornness was legendary
the Dwarves were no match of the heavy cavalry. As the remaining
Dwarves formed an ever shrinking shieldwall he scanned the craggy
landscape for Gommil to rid himself of a potential enemy whilst he was
at his weakest but could not see the stocky Forge Master.
Suddenly the forest
around the knights powered into life as the knights were assailed by a
host of the trees which animated from the forest. Hacking and chopping
the knights turned to face their new enemy whilst keeping the Dwarves at
bay. Seeing that his quarry had escaped and his knights would be
overwhelmed by the forest Giorgio signaled a withdrawal and rode into
the forest proper lest he lose his men for no reason. Let them fight
amongst themselves he thought I will survive and I will conquer.
Hallbreaker slashed Doorbiter to
either side of him desperately fending off the heavy horses that the
Humans used and loved. Though the shieldwall held his brothers were
dying to the lances of the Humans their weapons doing little to the
heavy armour worn by both man and horse. Rallying his brothers
Hallbreaker risked a glance to his right and was heartened to see Gommil
the Forge Master staggering through a knot of trees his axe laying
waste to the jerky limbs attempting to stop him and head towards the
forest ahead clearly fleeing the battle. Good he thought, the Master is
free and we have bought him the time he needs. Ordering the horn to
sound the withdraw Hallbreaker and his men withdrew step by step away
from the Knights and into the forest beyond, leaving their dead behind
them. Unknown horrors might be ahead in the dark trees but least they
would be free of this madness and back with the Forge Master. Silently
to himself Hallbreaker swore revenge. The Dwarves would return and pay
this treachery back threefold.
***
A knot of trees stood
silent and sentient at the top of the hill, their limbs overhanging the
small fire that the young races had gathered around and had bore witness
to the meeting of the chattering children. One tree, more alive than
the rest watched as the young races had argued and it had been he whom
had whispered for the attack of the Treekin at his command. Though he
had not moved he had marshaled his herd to victory and had scattered the
young races driving them into the forest where he had wanted them to
go.
The Oak had long
learned that destiny took an age to come to be and it's patience had
been rewarded this time as now four retreating armies moved into the
forest towards the Ruins of Fulk. The Master of Trees like this, his
plan to bring the Elves and their offspring Orion to his knees hinged on
distraction and now a distraction he had.The young races would crash
against the Elves, weakening the Elves like the winter frost during the
beginning of spring. It would use the young races to its advantage to
cause havoc to the Elves and in the meantime ensure that Orion would be
laid low.
The civil war between
Wood Elf and Treeman had begun and would see the Wild Woods victorious.
If the corpses of the young races littered the ground to do so then so
be it. The forest needed feeding after all.
Great stuff, reminds me of heady days playing fluffy campaign after campaign, all unbalanced and loads of fun. Thanks for reminding me :-)
ReplyDeleteThat's the plan but I know the other fellas (and myself) will get more competative as the campaign goes on. It's the nature of the beast with us.
DeleteHopefully it will remain fun even as we get more competitive.
I always play competitively! That's why I play goblins... Hang on!
DeleteNice try mate. I'm not falling for it!
DeleteI saw you stomp lano and I am still smarting from my beating from you.
Ha ha, goblins rule!
ReplyDelete