“Thanks for clearing the way,” Reed sighed. “Glad to see you’re safe, Pint.”
“Are you safe? You’re safe right?” Torn demanded to know. “Good. We lost a whole squad, all the archers...”
“Damn. Poor guys. That bomber has to pay somehow. Well, here on this side of the river we found some more of those hyena things, but don’t worry: when th’ Reverend Father liberated the hunting camp, we found a whole squad of horse yeomen -- not archers unfortunately, that would have been too useful,” he rolled his eyes, “but they were glad to be safe instead of eaten, and helped us put down those rabid doggy things and the hyenas they were riding on.”
“Great. I’m sending Razorwind back, then, to guard the surviving rangers of that squad, if he can find them,” Torn decided.
“I feel like we ought to rest tomorrow if we can,” Reed said. “I don’t think we’re going to make the main target for finishing this campaign anyway; no need to kill ourselves trying. King Victor will have troops striking back against the horde all along the fort-wall. Let’s just take care of this area and do it right, okay?”
[Gamenote: sure, I would like an extra catapult for free for winning the gold time, but I can live without it.]
The next day, since the new horse skirmishers certainly didn’t need a rest, Reed sent them on around the lake, partly to help support Derrick if he needed it, and partly to scout the final castle, their actual target for this operation.
The squad dutifully signaled back what they found before moving on outside Reed’s purview.
“...yep, glad I’m resting before we try to deal with that!” said Pint, and parked himself for the day.
“I hope our rangers and Razorwind are all right,” sighed Torn, as she settled herself on a hill overlooking the river to watch for trouble. “I can still see that bomber... oooh, Razor is fighting it! Still hasn’t beaten it, though. He’s got to rest sometime, too, or even that bomber will kill him!”
“It’s a real problem,” said Reed, as he climbed up on the hill to sit next to her, “but not one I can help with right now. We’ll just have to pray for help. And maybe pray for some of the souls of our men, today, while we heal up for the final push.”
“How about across the lake? Any clear idea what’s happening there?” Reed asked.
“Huh. Hard to say,” he agreed as she grunted and passed him the telescope after staring a while herself. “Looks like Brim is still strong, but if he’s there the assault on that fort across the river hasn’t gotten going much yet. Master Brennock’s there; and the Deathreed,” he grinned. “So they’re safe.”
“That wouldn’t by any chance be named after you,” Torn archly asked.
“Well, we’re here for the day, and I feel better now that I can see they haven’t done any better than us, really!” Reed laughed. “So sure, I’ll tell you the story...”
The next day dawned with Father Dexter grimly assessing the swamp between him and the island in the lake.
“Look,” said Reed, “I’m not going to run up and kick that hornet’s nest full of trolls and God help us what else; not until Captain Derrick’s side of the regiment gets in range. So why don’t we just send one of our ranger squads here to go get whatever you feel is in there today? They’re in range, they can get it and get back tomorrow, easy. You’ll be days trying to forge through that swamp and the woods on the island and back again!”
“Hey Reed! Razorclaw just detonated that bomber I think!” Torn called out.
“Thank God about time,” Reed and the Inquistor both muttered -- then grinned a bit lopsidedly at one another. “Fine,” the Father relented. “They can go get it.” So they did. The next day they would return with a Banner of Valor, which would cheer the hearts and strengthen the arms of all allies nearby. (+1 to melee for adjacent allies)
Another day of rest; Torn reported a crossbow squad flying Pfeil’s version of Sylent’s flag was coming up the road from Meerheim!
“I’m bored,” Pint said. “I’m tired of waiting. What say we run up there to the castle, do some damage, then run back to the woods, hey?”
“What say we don’t and say we didn’t?” Reed yawned grumpily as he stood on the treeline, away from where his halberds were camped along the road. But then he realized that odd request from the patient veteran scout wasn’t for him.
“You could go there and back,” allowed Captain Divine, as he also watched from the treeline. “But most of us would only be able to go and fight, not return. That would be committing to an assault, against terrible odds. I’ve done that already this week, thanks. I’m in no hurry to do it again. In case you were checking.”
“If we did go there and back, do some damage, terrorize ‘em a bit,” said Pint, “do you think some might break off and come back here to fight?”
“Maybe,” said Reed. “What will certainly happen, is that the goblin catapult will get some scouting and be able to drop large rocks on us.”
“So. First target,” grinned Pint. “Maybe tomorrow. Let’s get in position.”
On the next day, sure enough:
“There is one almighty huge orc and goblin cavalry up there,” Pint reported around mid-morning. “But no more catapult. I think we really accomplished something today. We might could do that every day hereafter, just with a different squad!”
“Assuming they don’t come after us now. But if they do, great,” said Reed. “We’re ready to defend, and to counterattack, and Fitch just came up. Damn, Fitch, did you get tired waiting and come to see if we need rescuing?”
“Not you, dumbass, the girl!” he snorted. “Her eagle helped out a lot, back at Meerheim -- saved your crossbowmen from being bombed and slung down to the last man, no lie. I imagine he’ll be along pretty soon; so will the second ranger squad, they survived, a little worse for wear. Your own crossbow squad got pushed by attacks down the left path; last I saw they were headed for Hageburg. Might be reinforced there already by now -- they were badly messed up.”
“Wish I had Sciff, no offense. We have some trolls in Talshorn castle, according to Pint and his men.”
“Aw, yeah, Sciff would love that. Maybe he’ll get a shot, if he and his crew are still alive. Any sign of the Major?”
“Kind of? A bunch of bull riders pulled up at the castle from the east a day or two ago. Torn says that was about the time the few people she could still see north of the river moved across, so either they got bored slaughtering our left wing, or they called it a day and ran back to defend Talshorn.”
“I’m going to hope it’s the latter, if that’s okay with you,” yawned Fitch. “So what’s for dinner?”
“Could be steak tomorrow,” Reed walked back over to his men, and pointed across the lake.
“Derrick is coming,” gritted Dexter. “Finally. The boy does take his time.”
No one chased the rangers back after their raid, and only some slightly experienced and very wounded goblin spears took the place of the catapult.
“Tomorrow the final push begins,” the High Priest told them that night as they finished off their meals. “It may not end tomorrow; but if we can get it to end the day after, we should be awarded a prize by King Victor for our... relatively hasty action.”
“I’m not real sure we can kill them all in two days,” Pint said warily. “I’m good but I’m not that good.”
“You only have to take the castle,” the severe, silver-haired man assured him. “If we can get that far, we’ll have dealt enough damage and secured a strong place from which to deal more damage. Their morale will break and they’ll run.
“Stage one will be getting to the trolls. Not an easy task. They may come out to us! -- and better in some ways if they do, as they should be in less protected areas. But then someone else will likely hold the castle and we’ll have to get to them.”
“Through the trolls, probably,” Fitch reminded them. “I just want to be sure that’s kept in mind, you know. In case it’s important.”
“Also keep in mind,” said Father Divine, “that the trolls will be the most armored creatures out there, so whomever or whatever holds the castle will be easier to root out. The trolls will run, too, if we can get in."
“You rangers will be the key to all this, I fully expect,” Reed added. “You can harass your targets for one thing, pushing them out with multiple attacks. And you can move after you attack, without worrying about enemy zones of control. If you can get out of each other’s way, no offense intended -- I’m just saying, things’ll be tight -- you can punch even trolls out of the castle, bam bam bam, and then sneak on in. We win. I suppose.”
“I can contact Master Brennock, through a device he gave me,” said the Inquisitor, “and request a final meteor strike if he has one. Yes, I know, I’m the High Priest of the Sword. That doesn’t mean I’m stupid: wizards are helpful in battle and in many other ways,” he sighed. “They also raise the dead, and brought a star to strike the earth and turn into a demon that nearly destroyed us all six hundred and forty years ago. The study of magic is exceptionally dangerous to many other people than magicians. That’s why we keep close track of those who fight with it. Killing them if necessary. Including as an example.
“I doubt it will be necessary to make an example of Master Brennock, fortunately; he has served well in repelling this horde. But still, we have reasons for doing what we do.”
The following morning, the Reverend Captain reiterated: “We have three connected problems before we can end this.
“First, blow a chink in the defense around the castle. The goblin spears are the obvious choice here.
“Second, neutralize the archers protecting the castle. I have been in contact with Master Brennock, and though we cannot speak exactly I think I have succeeded in getting across the gist of how to win today and tomorrow. If we see them attack on the left of their advance, heading for the archers, we’ll know. In the worst case scenario, whoever goes after the trolls first will have to weather the defensive shots and run away after harassing them.”
“If they can be harassed,” Pint muttered as the threatened time grew nearer.
“That is indeed a possible failure for our plan. I just don’t know. Do your best. Also, keep in mind that we ought to concentrate force on them for one day to get them out, probably tomorrow unless they come out of their own accord. Otherwise they can just rest overnight and regenerate completely.”
“I don’t know whether they got the plan,” Reed reported as the left wing of the regiment advanced. “They did wipe out a set of bull riders, but haven’t advanced particularly to their own left, and frankly I’m worried that Sir William has gone too far ahead outside archery protection.”
“Impetuous boy,” sniffed the Inquisitor, turning his back for a moment to shake his head. “I know full well how much that recklessness can cost.”
“Razorwind has finally returned,” Torn announced. “He can give us a full idea of what’s waiting at the castle.” He flew ahead to just beyond the lake, and sent back coded loops and dives and wing-wobbles which she translated into a map.
“Still a lot of cavalry remaining,” Reed sighed. “I’m very seriously worried about Sir William’s chances now.”
“At least the archers aren’t guarding th’ weak spot right now,” Pint inferred from Torn’s report. “We
could perhaps manage to thin out one of the worse threats quite a lot, instead of only removing the goblin spears.”
“An intriguing plan, Major. You have my permission,” Divine agreed.
So with two ranger harasses, a crossbow volley from Fitch, and Reed’s halberdiers...
...another orcish bull-rider squad was wiped completely out.
“Hm. My only regret so far is that I was unable to add anything,” the Inquisitor said. “I
could go up and chastise the goblin spears...”
“In which case you’d be out front without any archery support,” Reed reminded him. “Everything in that castle would most likely fall on you.”
“Better on me than on anything else at this point,” the priest tried to say, but, “Not true,” Reed interrupted him. “You fight monsters; you live to kill things like trolls. Let’s wait and use you when we really need you, tomorrow. Okay, sir?” Dexter relented, and set up his own camp in front of the forest, guarding one of the crossbow flanks.
[Gamenote: if Divine didn’t have “slayer” as a skill, I’d try suiciding him into the goblins -- he hurt them hard, and probably several other things attacking him this turn, and since he isn’t Derrick Pfeil and thus not the player-character hero it doesn’t really matter if he ‘dies’, he’s only out of the mission till it’s over. However, if the trolls are still in the castle next turn, he could put a whomp on them.]
With two heroes simply sitting out apparently vulnerable like this, the enemy chose to javelin Master Brennock with hyenas and then send in war orcs -- gravely wounding him, but with plentiful crossbow support he managed to survive, and so would be ready to launch one last fireball on the final day of the siege.
[Gamenote: I was going to say that was foolish, but the AI might not have been able to see how well he was guarded compared to Sir William’s knights who were completely unguarded; and besides, in going this route they also JUST HAPPENED to block off all of Derrick’s access to the archers guarding the trolls. Coincidence? Maybe, but with this AI maybe not!]
The goblin spears came out all by themselves to try to kill Captain Divine -- who, to be fair, may have been goading them ostentatiously. [Gamenote: my only real explanation for that.
It was a silly move, but again the AI might not have noticed the crossbowmen behind him being out of visual range at first.]
This proved fatal. But not for him.
The final day of the siege dawned.
[Gamenote: that shows the eagle’s possible movements, but also nicely illustrates the grid for the fighting area today.]
“oh... hey!” Reed called. “I think Captain Pfeil figured out what we want to do!” A concerted push by Reed’s own crossbows, helping the leftward wing, and Lieutenant Brim’s swordsmen, shoved and ruined the war orc squad out of the way...
“They’re bringing up Sciff and the ballista! They’re going for it!”
“Those two by themselves might drive out the trolls,” Pint muttered.
“Wait, what is Captain Pfeil doing?” Torn wondered. “He’s... why go after those wounded...? HE’S GOING TO TAKE THE GOBLIN ARCHER DEFENSE STRIKE!”
“Of course!” marveled Reed. “Now anyone can attack the trolls with impunity!”
Sciff’s opening volley didn’t drive them out, but did kill a beast.
The Deathreed dared to move up into position to hit the trolls itself -- if this didn’t work, it would surely be wrecked by ramaging orcs! The log-sized pole shot into the courtyard and shattered among the beasts.
And then...
The soldiers cheered like mad: “Even trolls must fear the Deathreed!”
“Lieutenant Pint!” called the Inquisitor. “Take the castle!”
“It’s all over now but the beating!” Pint shouted as his rangers bobbed and weaved into the castle walls. “Get out! Get out of here if you want to live!” he cried as he and his men javelined the archers.
The exhausted Captain Divine cleared the final goblins out of the path for Reed’s troops to rush up, take the suburb village of Talsdorf, and chop at the retreating trolls.
The trolls kept on retreating, though, and Reed was unable to finish them off. Neither could Razorwind, unfortunately.
But Master Brennock could.
Soon, even the beating was over, as the few surviving orcs and goblins ran in routed groups to the south.
“No offense,” Reed told Pint, “but I think next time I’ll stick with Brim if I can. Woods and halberds don’t really mix.”
“We might not have made it without you,” he said. “I’m glad you came our way. Y’all might clank through trees like a bunch of shiny poofs... but those shiny chestplates gave us somewhere to rally around.”
“All the same: the fewer ambushes next time, the better!”
A few days later, King Victor sent his congratulations, his thanks... and a Lance of Glory.
“For the sake of our fallen yeomen, on horse and on foot,” said Captain Pfeil, “I will engrave their names on this lance, and give it to you, Sir William, to strike back against injustice in their name.”
“In memory of my father,” the young nobleman added. “Should he not live to see our victory. But if, God willing, I see him again, I pray to honor him with it all his life.” He and his knights had suffered badly on this campaign as well; many riding with him were mere novices still, called up to fill out his squad due to casualties.
“So,” said Torn. “I wonder how well anyone
else did, the past fortnight, down the fort-line?”
The news came soon.
Badly.
