Sea Kindred Engage the Goblin Menace at Galahir - Artist's Rendition | . |
Welcome to the four-in-one, narrative-gaming bonanza! Too good to be true? Well, that depends on whether or not you were closely following 2017's Edge of the Abyss campaign - if you were, then it's possible you've read some or all of these games already. However, even if that's the case, my brother and I have written some new narrative, an epilogue if you will, to round out what happened with our forces once the campaign drew to a close. Since the three games of our narrative campaign led up to Mantic's Edge of the Abyss, it made sense to bring the games together and post them here.
It may be a while before new instalments/narrative games are put together - we have a couple of projects that will be taking up our attention in the coming months, including a KoW map campaign at our FLGS and the release of Vanguard later in the year - but when we do, we have some big ideas for what will happen next.
Here are links to the previous games in our narrative: Game 1, Game 2, Game 3
As always, thanks for reading. #kowislife
Game 1 - These Trees Will Stand (Opportunity Knocks)
Taken from the memoirs of
Prince Ingemon, heir to House Enneiros, describing his participation in
the great war commonly referred to as "The Edge of the Abyss Campaign":
It was almost three weeks since the expansion of the Abyss, which had
sparked the greatest war of our time. After a long march from Tiriant
Dalath, the men and I finally reached our destination. Signs of
devastation littered the road to Galahir: looting, refugees, the bodies
of indeterminate races piled high and burned. While much of the war's
action had naturally centred on events surrounding the Abyss itself, it
was the Ardovikian Plain and the surrounding areas that offered a
glimpse of its true horror. Communities destroyed, peoples displaced,
the inevitable spectre of famine - in short, a microcosm of what the
whole of Mantica would suffer, should our Lady's Grand Alliance fail in
its task.
As we reached the outskirts of the great forest we were overwhelmed
by a smell which I shall not soon forget and, once we reached the
trail's peak, a sight that would turn the stomach of any true elf.
Rising like a mountain before us, the trees of the forest of Galahir
stood beneath a sky shrouded in dark smoke, fuelled by great columns
that appeared sporadically along the horizon. The ancient trees of the
glades were burning, the forces of evil destroying what they could not
take. The men stood frozen, their eyes locked upon the nightmarish
vision before them, and I must confess that I did not know what to tell
them.
It was the Mage Iólon who spoke up, and restored our courage: "Take
heart! All is not lost, behold! The forest resists!" He was pointing
to a clearing northeast, where the trees themselves appeared in battle
with a seething mass of green.
Goblins.
A horn sounded, and the tree-warriors parted, clearing the way for a
group of centaurs to come crashing through. The sight of such noble
servants of the Lady restored my senses - and the sight of goblin spears
surrounding them set my anger to flame. I raised my voice:
"Soldiers of Therennia Adar, ready yourselves! We rally to the Moon Banner! No matter what, these trees will stand! Now, forward!"
As we approached the battle, I ordered Sergeant Pennor to sound the
horn. As I had hoped, we caught the attention of a contingent of the
goblin-kind who had been hastily cutting down trees while the battle
raged behind them. They formed up under the command of a particularly
vicious looking specimen astride a wolf, and in ragged formations, came
to meet us.
Battlefield - Hill is height 2, three areas of large trees treated as height 4 impassable. |
The field of battle was located in a clearing with a boggy area at its
centre. Save for an elevated patch on the left flank, the terrain was
flat and dotted with clusters of trees. Some of these clusters, those
with the tallest trees, were so densely thicketed as to prove utterly
impassable to fighting formations.
I positioned our kindred tallspears to the left, and archers to the
right. With the goblin cavalry having disappeared behind the hill on
that side, it was important to present the phalanx there, while on the
other side whittling away at the advance of their infantry from a
distance.
Sniffs take the hill. |
On the hill to our left the foul goblin cavalry appeared. They came at
us arranged in formation so that their heavy hitters (such as they were)
had their approach screened by missile cavalry. From their vantage
point, these goblin sniffs were able to cast their arrows among our
ranks. Although some found their mark, the men held firm. A great rock
was hurled from among the woods towards our line, but sailed clear
overhead. To the right of the field, our archers began to receive
missile fire from the goblin line. Ducking and weaving with the grace
common to our people, they were unfazed, and readied a volley of their
own.
Elf formation advances cautiously. |
Our line of phalanx advanced
slowly, content to let the enemy impale themselves upon elven steel.
From the Mage Iólon's hand leapt a flash of lightning, tearing up the
hill over which the goblins rode. A battle craze filled their minds
however, and it was clear that more would be required to dissuade their
assault.
I signalled that the archers loose their volley, and their arrows
sailed into the goblin archers, cutting a swathe among them. They
appeared to be at the point of flight, but their leaders kept them in line, and they instead prepared to return fire.
Sniffs chaff up the elves. |
The goblin cavalry reached our line with incredible speed, but held back
from our phalanx to instead shoot at point blank range. Their shots
were vicious, and a number of the Star Shields were wounded. As another rock
soared overhead, the goblin infantry continued their advance, with a
group of spear-carrying goblins making great haste to get around our
right flank. They would need to be dealt with sooner rather than later.
Arrows from the goblin archers once again found ours, and injuries were
sustained, one of our kin dying instantly as an arrow pierced his eye.
With grim determination, they made ready their volley.
Tallspears engage the sniffs. |
I realised that the goblin archers were more distraction than threat
however, and that the encircling spear-goblins could not be ignored.
"The spears! Target the spear goblins!" Only the nearest archers heard
me over the din of battle; our phalanx were pushing into the goblin
missile cavalry and seeing them off. The further archers fired once
again into the goblin bowmen, and struck with such precision as to send
the survivors running. Those that had heard my command swung around and
loosed at the spear-goblins, felling many. The faint glow of Iólon's
magic could be seen among them, healing their wounds.
Fleabags charge the Star Shields. |
With the screening force
scattered, the spider-mounted goblins charged our lines. Another rock
sailed overhead; it was only a matter of time until it found its mark.
The cavalry crashed into the Star Shields primarily, the nimble reflexes
of the spider mounts allowing them to pierce the phalanx. In spite of
casualties, the line held firm.
On the right of the field, despite our volley the spear goblins
continued to advance, taking up a position in the cover of an old wall.
Tallspears push back. |
Sergeant Pennor gave another
blast from his horn, and the tallspears pressed forward into the goblin
cavalry. Iólon had returned his attention to the line, and directed his
magic to heal those wounded in the ongoing melee. Over the chaos of
battle I spotted the wolf-mounted leader of the goblin army, spurring
his spider riders on. I turned to my feline companion, Orchal, and
without needing to say a word the cat darted through the maelstrom and
attacked the biggit. Howling in pain as the cat clawed his face, the
goblin leader wavered, and the courage of his warriors failed. Those who
had survived the attack from our phalanx were sent fleeing at great
speed.
Our archers meanwhile had fully directed their attention to the
cowering spear goblins. After a devastating volley left many among them
dead, they were completely pinned behind the measly protection of the
decrepit wall.
Rabble move into the woods. |
With the bodies of our foe now strewn before our phalanx, the enemy
changed tack. Rather than charge our line head on, they moved into the
woods anchoring our centre, daring us to break formation and engage them
there. Once more a rock flew wide of its mark, but now a new,
previously hidden contraption appeared. It was a "War Trombone", a
hideous mockery of warfare employing that foul dwarven invention
"gunpowder". It spat shrapnel and smoke at our line, causing grotesque
damage. Once more however, the line held firm.
Ingemon and the Moon Shields try to clear the rabble from the woods. |
The time had come to
enter the fray. Calling the Moon Shields to me, the phalanx line
separated as we attempted to push the rabble out of the woods. The Star
Shields circled round, covering the flank. As they could not reach the
war trombone before it would have another chance to fire, they used a
trick they have perfected, holding their shields at just the right angle
so as to catch the sun's glare and blind their enemies. It worked, the
goblins manning the contraption screeched and covered their eyes. The
archers meanwhile continued to fire on the spear goblins, who in turn
continued to huddle with fear. Iólon had spotted the goblin biggit, and
was chasing him with lightning strikes, to the point where the goblin
leader rode his wolf behind the trees and out of sight.
Charging through the trees, the men and I struck with ferocity. The
goblins had clearly been expecting the rough terrain to grant them some
sort of advantage, and were struck dumb by our expert assault.
Disordered War Trombone considers its options. |
Blinded and confused, the war
trombone sought safety in the water. Among the goblin rabble, who were
hesitating to engage us, was passed around some sort of brew that
restored vigour to those we had wounded.
Before we re-engaged, I heard a terrible crash to my left and the
cries of our brethren; it appeared that the catapult had at last hit our
line. It was too much for the Star Shields, and those who had survived
fell back, the wounded borne upon their shields.
Combat continues in the woods, while the biggit hides from Iólon. |
Gritting our teeth and holding our nerve, the Moon Shields and I pushed
once more into the rabble. This time it was enough, and after cutting
down many the rest fled. Meanwhile, half of our archers redirected their
shooting to the war trombone, but its crew were unfazed by our volley.
Seeing this, Iólon launched lightning at them, but the flag bearing
goblin made sure that they were not deterred. It lined up a shot at the
Moon Shields...
BOOM!! |
Shrapnel exploded through the ranks, armour shredded like parchment in its
wake. Perhaps the line would have held, had that been all, but it seemed
the catapult had worked out its distances. When the smoke and dust had
cleared the survivors of the Moon Shields could be seen following their
Star Shield kin to safety.
Ingemon vs Flaggit. |
I glimpsed an enemy banner through the smoke. In a moment of rage-fueled
insanity, I charged towards it, expecting to come crashing into another
regiment of goblins. To my surprise there was just one goblin standing with
the flag, evidently a coordinator of their formations. Surprise blunted
my concentration, and the flaggit was able to jump back, avoiding the
sweep of my axe. Iólon had returned to support our archers, casting
healing magic among them. The archers themselves were now facing
opposite directions, one half trying to take down the wolf-riding
biggit, the others still pouring fire into the spear goblins. This last
volley was finally enough, the survivors dropping their spears and
fleeing.
War Trombone finds a new target. |
The archers had little time to relish their success, before the war
trombone roared once again, further flooding the field with smoke and
sending them running. All that now stood between the trees and the
goblins was myself, Iólon, and the remaining archers.
Shoot that Biggit! |
The banner-bearing goblin, clearly mad, came
at me, waving its banner pole widely. I calmly deflected the blow and
shunted my shield in its face.
Behind me I could here Iólon directing the archers to take down the
biggit, and the unmistakable crackle of his magic assisting in the
effort. The biggit wavered. It was surely at this point when he realised
it was over.
End of game positions. |
The biggit gave a cry, and his
forces withdrew, the war trombone crew abandoning their weapon in the
process. It was likely that they were out of powder anyway.
Thus did our first battle end. We had overcome the enemy, and we had
defended the trees. The cost had been dear, and it was to be many days
of treating the wounded before we were fit to assist the war effort
further. But assist it we would. The stakes were too high for it to be
any other way. Whatever happened, whatever the cost, the elves of
Therennia Adar had chosen their ground, their new mantra a declaration
of intent: these trees will stand.
***
"Pack of elves found nipping at our heels, bloodied them near lake, won't be returning soon"
Grotti-Khan rolled up the scrawled missive and handed it to a
messenger on a fleabag. He had left much out of his report, but King
Smack-Git didn't need to know the extent of their losses. Goblins were
easily replaced, and while they had lost some ground, there were more
than enough trees in the forest to harvest. Still, with that mage still
alive, the elves would likely be back with reinforcements.
As he contemplated the problem, Grotti's hand began idly rubbing the
burn scars on his chest, a present from that damned elf mage. Just his luck to run into him again! Still, it does present new opportunities for revenge, he thought, and his
mouth curved into an unconscious snarl.
Game 2 - Respite Denied (Dominate)
Taken from the memoirs of
Prince Ingemon, heir to House Enneiros, in which he describes his
participation in the great war commonly referred to as "The Edge of the
Abyss Campaign". After the expedition assisted in driving back the
Goblin menace, The Lady's chosen commander Lord Flaxhoof led the elves
to a glade where they could recover their strength. Ingemon describes
his conversation with Flaxhoof and goes to great lengths to provide a detailed
account of the Forest, the glade, and the state of the war. For
expediency's sake, and as those sections do not pertain to this
catalogue of the Campaign's battles, we rejoin Ingemon at his second
engagement, when a Goblin raiding party stormed the hidden glade:
It was a full two weeks before we once again faced our foe on the
field. Although it was not an engagement of our choosing, the men had
recovered and were rejuvenated by the splendor of this place.
That an attack should come to us here was indeed a surprise. We were
not, however, taken by surprise. Our ranks were formed, our bows were
strung. We were ready.
Or so we thought.
Grotti-Khan blinked uncomfortably. The light coming through the
branches was unnaturally bright, and the whole place had a funny smell
which put the fleabags on edge. Grotti was pretty sure that some of the
glowing bugs were whispering something, and found it mildly satisfying
when his mount would snap at them.
Under normal circumstances Grotti would have never come to this part of the forest. But his scouts had tracked the elves to this sickening place, and nothing would stop him from hunting them down. He had picked out a select group of his best gits to ride fleabags and chariots, along with three trolls and a tamed basilisk, with the intent of finally ridding himself of the elf witch and his pointy-eared brethren.
A scout rode into view from behind a copse, his red top knot flailing as he came to a stop in front of Grotti.
"They're up ahead. I think they're expecting us." The goblin gestured vaguely behind him.
Grotti suddenly became convinced of his earlier suspicions. He smiled cruelly.
"No Stilbik, they won't be expecting this."
We rolled the scenario "Dominate", and were once again playing 800
points a side. We both made changes to our lists from the last game,
although my opponents were more drastic, as he has many, many goblins.
***
Under normal circumstances Grotti would have never come to this part of the forest. But his scouts had tracked the elves to this sickening place, and nothing would stop him from hunting them down. He had picked out a select group of his best gits to ride fleabags and chariots, along with three trolls and a tamed basilisk, with the intent of finally ridding himself of the elf witch and his pointy-eared brethren.
A scout rode into view from behind a copse, his red top knot flailing as he came to a stop in front of Grotti.
"They're up ahead. I think they're expecting us." The goblin gestured vaguely behind him.
Grotti suddenly became convinced of his earlier suspicions. He smiled cruelly.
"No Stilbik, they won't be expecting this."
Battlefield Overview |
Left to Right: Fleabag Regiment with Caterpillar Potion, Slasher with ballista (basilisk and its gaze), Flaggit, Troll Regiment. |
Sniffs troop, Biggit on fleabag, Chariot regiment with healing brew. |
Archer troop with healing brew, Archer troop with fire-oil, Prince Ingemon, Mage Iólon, Tallspears regiment with Griffin Banner, Tallspears Regiment with Sparkstone. |
The plan was simple: I would
gun down as much as I could with my archers and focus on sitting my
Tallspear regiments on the objective. Together they added up to a mighty
4 unit strength, which should be enough to win out the dominate game,
if I could keep them alive.
The chariots and sniffs moved into range on the right flank, while
fleabags started to move up the left. Goblin shooting was completely
ineffectual this turn.
Elves Turn 1: Defending the right flank. |
In response I moved my
formation forward very slightly, halting my archers for maximum
shooting. The characters moved most, as I wanted to put the mage in
range for wind blast and the prince for his pussycat.
The archers only managed 3 on the chariots, which didn't affect them.
I was however able to wind blast them out of charge range. The prince's
pussycat rolled horribly to hit, and only put 1 on the sniffs, which
they ignored.
Goblins Turn 2: Fleabags race up the flank. |
The chariots, after healing 2 points with the healing brew, moved back
into charge range, and the fleabags continued to speed around the flank.
Shooting focused on the furthest out archer troop, dealing 3 damage and
wavering them.
Elves Turn 2: Ingemon charges while the Tallspears react. |
The wavered archers healed 2
points using the healing brew. With the fleabags threatening the
Tallspears, I shifted the formation to deny them a flank. I also charged
Prince Ingemon into the sniffs. I hesitated over this, but with their
speed and ability to get away and become a late game problem I wanted to
see them off. It did however mean my only inspiring source was out on
his own, but with a 12 inch it'd be easy to bring him back into
formation.
The Tallspears used the sparkstone on the slasher to disorder it (although it had been missing with its ballista). The mage threw a fireball at the fleabag mounted Biggit and wavered him. Archers put more into the chariots but once again a low nerve roll meant they were fine. The prince, despite being hindered, went to town on the sniffs and routed them.
The Tallspears used the sparkstone on the slasher to disorder it (although it had been missing with its ballista). The mage threw a fireball at the fleabag mounted Biggit and wavered him. Archers put more into the chariots but once again a low nerve roll meant they were fine. The prince, despite being hindered, went to town on the sniffs and routed them.
Goblins Turn 3: Fleabags continue to circle the elves. |
Meanwhile, chariots reach the archers. |
The fleabags made use of their
nimble to once again put themselves facing a flank. The chariots charged
into the archers, while the wavered biggit used his individual turn to
be able to back up and continue to inspire them.
The disordered slasher moved out of the woods to threaten the Tallspears.
In the combat, the chariots routed the archers and turned to face the flank of the other troop.
The disordered slasher moved out of the woods to threaten the Tallspears.
In the combat, the chariots routed the archers and turned to face the flank of the other troop.
Elves Turn 3: Elves attempt to maintain formation. |
This was a tricky situation.
Both the slasher and the fleabags were going to be able to charge next
turn. I charged the prince into the biggit - he was on 5 damage and the
prospect of routing him was too tempting to ignore. I then turned the
threatened Tallspears unit to face the fleabags, and maneuvered the mage
to wind blast the slasher out of charge range. I needed one success on 5
dice (with elite) and rolled... all 2s and 3s. I just could not believe
it!
The archers put 1 damage on the chariots and once again it was steady.
Prince Ingemon must have got a good hit in on the biggit, because he sent him packing.
Wham-bam. The slasher and fleabags multi-charged the tallspears and the
chariots flank charged the archers. The trolls were also moving into
threat range now. The tallspears were utterly trashed, while being
hindered really hurt the chariots who only put 2 damage on the archers,
not even managing to wavering them.
The archers put 1 damage on the chariots and once again it was steady.
Prince Ingemon must have got a good hit in on the biggit, because he sent him packing.
Goblins Turn 4: Multi-charging the Tallspears. |
While the chariots cause havoc among the archers. |
Elves Turn 4: Remaining Tallspears face the enemy. |
The writing was on the wall at
this point, but I had to make the best of it. The remaining Tallspears
turned to face the fleabags/slasher, and the archers counter-charged.
The prince finally made his may back to inspire someone other than
himself, while the wizard cast weakness on the fleabags.
The archers put 1 damage on the chariots, but they held firm.
Goblins Turn 5:
In the obvious combats, the Tallspears were wavered and the chariots failed to rout the archers. The trolls were now in range for a charge next turn.
The archers put 1 damage on the chariots, but they held firm.
Goblins Turn 5:
In the obvious combats, the Tallspears were wavered and the chariots failed to rout the archers. The trolls were now in range for a charge next turn.
Elves Turn 5: Ingemon attempts to hold off the slasher. |
I charged the prince into the
slasher, trying to hold it up. The Tallspears backed up, and the wizard
wind blasted the trolls, but only got 2 successes when 3 were needed to
stop a charge.
The archers finally fought off the chariots, and turned back to face the centre.
The archers finally fought off the chariots, and turned back to face the centre.
Goblins Turn 6: Trolls join the fray. |
The trolls and fleabags charge the Tallspears and destroy them. The slasher wavered the prince.
In elves turn 6, shooting from the archers and the mage focused on the trolls, but they withstood the damage.
There was no turn 7.
In elves turn 6, shooting from the archers and the mage focused on the trolls, but they withstood the damage.
There was no turn 7.
Game over. |
From the Prince's memoirs:
We were cast from the glade that day, the foul laughter of the goblins chasing us through the trees. We had failed in this battle, but as the survivors gathered we knew, without so much as exchanging a word, that our resolve was not broken. Rather, it was iron. We would reclaim these woods.
We were cast from the glade that day, the foul laughter of the goblins chasing us through the trees. We had failed in this battle, but as the survivors gathered we knew, without so much as exchanging a word, that our resolve was not broken. Rather, it was iron. We would reclaim these woods.
I sought out the Mage Iólon and we began to discuss our response, our
task straightforward as ever. No matter the cost, these trees would
stand.
Game 3 - Take Back Control (Control)
While the glade they had conquered would need more goblins to begin
proper deforestation, that didn't mean they couldn't make the place more
comfortable. Not long after their last battle, the goblins had set
about repairing the chariots, cutting away branches and placing elven heads on sharpsticks.
Grotti-Khan's troops were beginning to get impatient, but
the biggit had to make sure that the mage was dead.
Him and that mad elf with the axe. They had survived their attack, he could feel it. Hunting them through the forest was pointless. This glade was important to the elves. Which meant they'd be back. And he'd be waiting.
He was shocked out of his brooding when one of his scouts burst into his yurt.
"You were right boss, they're coming."
***
Taken from the memoirs of
Prince Ingemon, heir to House Enneiros, describing his participation in
the great war, commonly referred to as "The Edge of the Abyss Campaign":
The goblins who had driven us from the glade had not pursued us far.
Apparently believing us scattered, they were instead securing the area
for themselves. It was clear that this was an elite vanguard, whose job
had been to take the forest and await reinforcements before commencing
deforestation. It gave us a window, and less than one full day after our
retreat, we returned to take back control.
Battlefield Overview |
For this battle we rolled the scenario "Control". As we were playing on a
4x4 field, the table quarter across and to the right of each player
would be worth 2 points.
Left to Right: Fleabag Regiment with Caterpiller Potion, Troll Regiment with dwarven ale, Flaggit (behind trolls). |
Slasher with ballista (basilisk with its gaze) in the woods, Chariot regiment with healing brew, mounted Biggit, Sniffs troop. |
In the last game the elven
formation was spread too thin, as well as being encircled (i.e. worst of
both worlds). I decided to accept the inevitable encirclement this game
and have my archers anchor the centre, as they would at least be able
to turn and get a volley off at the fleabags. My Tallspears meanwhile
would move together up one flank, daring a frontal charge.
The elves won the roll off, and once again gave first turn to the goblins.
Goblins Turn 1: Moving into range. |
Goblin shooters moved into range, while the fleabags sped down the
flank. Shooting wasn't effective, wherever damage was done Iron Resolve
restored it (game was played while good were still granted it).
Elves Turn 1: The formation begins to advance. |
The tallspears moved up while the archers trained their aim on the
chariots. The volley was devastating, cutting them down entirely.
Goblins Turn 2: Fleabags and Trolls threaten the flanks. |
The sniffs backed up out of charge range, and the trolls/fleabags
continued to outflank the elven line. Shooting was again ineffective,
with Iron Resolve preventing any meaningful damage being built up.
Elves Turn 2: Archers turn to face the threat. |
Tallspears continued their implacable advance. Elven shooting turned to
focus fire on the fleabags, but despite dealing 5 damage couldn't
waver/rout them.
Goblins Turn 3: Fleabags charge the Mage. |
The (possibly overly ambitious)
mage was caught out by the fleabags, who were hoping for an overrun.
The biggit and the sniffs continued to back away, but once again
shooting failed to make an impact.
The fleabags put 5 damage on the mage and wavered him.
Elves Turn 3: Elven phalanx emerges from the trees. |
As the tallspears pushed through the woods, the Sparkstone was fired at
the slasher, disordering it. The archers rolled very poorly, and were
only able to put another 1 damage on the fleabags, but it was enough to
waver them.
Goblins Turn 4: The Trolls are hungry... |
The trolls, who were hugging the woods to dissuade the archers, moved to
threaten the tallspear flank. The disordered slasher moved to be in
range for a charge in its next turn. Again the sniffs/biggit backed up,
and again their shooting was shrugged off.
Elves Turn 4: Tallspears face the Slasher. |
With the tallspears at threat
from a combined front/flank charge, it was crunch time. I had the option
to turn and put them both in the front arc of the regiment. I thought,
however, that I could just wind blast the trolls out of charge range
(déjà vu).
The archers finally saw off the fleabags, and I went to wind blast
the trolls. Oh dear. The flaggit was standing 1 inch behind them, making
any attempt to wind blast them pointless. Looks like the tallspears
were facing a flank charge. At the very least however, the mage was able
to cast weakness on the trolls.
Goblins Turn 5: Multi-charging the Tallspears. |
As well as being weakened, the
trolls also clipped the woods and were hindered. The sniffs continued to
dance out of range, and between them managed to put 3 damage on the
tallspears, so for once Iron Resolve didn't restore all damage.
Rolling for the combat was poor, and only 5 damage was achieved (so 4 with Iron Resolve).
Elves Turn 5: Archers target Trolls, while Tallspears focus on the Slasher. |
The tallspears counter-charged
the slasher, while the other unit turned to prepare a charge should they
fail and fall. The archers focused fire on the trolls but rolled
horribly, managing only 1 damage.
The prince meanwhile loosed his cat on the sniffs troop, who went to town, racking up 8 damage and routing them.
The tallspears did 3 damage in combat to the slasher, but with nerve 16/18 it would take more than that to take it down.
Goblins Turn 6: The Biggit shoots at Prince Ingemon. |
The trolls regenerated the 1
damage and re-charged the tallspears along with the slasher. The biggit
shot the prince and managed 2 damage, which turned into 1 with Iron
Resolve.
The combined charge took the tallspears up to 10 damage, but thanks
to the inspiring presence of the prince (and an unlucky second roll)
they stood their ground.
Elves Turn 6: The Mage Iólon heals the Tallspears. |
My dice were crazily good this
turn. The archers finally found their aim and took down the trolls. The
mage cast heal on the tallspears and took them down from 9 to 4 (that's 5
successes!). In combat the tallspears brought the slasher up to 8 and,
despite the inspiring presence on the flaggit, were able to rout the
beast.
With only a flaggit and a biggit left it was all over for the goblins.
End of game positions. |
From the Prince's memoirs:
Our plan had worked, and the glade was free of goblin filth once
more. In the grand scheme of things, and in light of what we all now
know about the wider war, this battle may seem small, nothing more than a
peripheral skirmish perhaps. To my mind, however, it represented a
moment when the good peoples of Mantica once again found their resolve,
and more than that, they found it to be iron.
For our efforts, the trees of Galahir yet stood - and we stood with them.
Game 4 - Once More Unto The Forest (Occupy)
Grotti-Khan had fully expected King Smack-Git to react to his failure
against the Elf counter attack with his usual apoplexy but the self
proclaimed monarch had simply demanded he meet the human threat to the
south of the logging camp with better success. Grotti had not
dissapointed, bringing the remnants of his force to join up with
Smack-Git's host to face the Basilean crusade.
With the manlings fleeing, the Goblin King brought his army back to
face the pointy ears once and for all. Grotti's scouts found the Elf
force much quicker than he had expected, for the simple reason that it
had grown. Some local elves had joined up with the host and were moving
towards the logging camp.
Grotti could see their shiny armour and spear tips across the glade.
His mount growled menacingly. He looked to his right at the hordes of
greenskinned creatures awaiting their commands and raised his fist. The
sounds of gongs, horns and shields being drummed rose to fill the air.
Even the Trolls were yelling, although Grotti doubted they had any idea
what was happening. No doubt Smack-Git's Archers on the far flank could
here the din and knew they had encountered the enemy.
"Try to escape this, knife-eared witch!" cried Grotti, and he was unable
to hear himself over the din of the goblin host.
***
Taken from the memoirs of
Prince Ingemon, heir to House Enneiros, describing his final battle in
the great war, commonly referred to as "The Edge of the Abyss Campaign":
Knowing that a larger goblin army would surely follow, we marched to
face them. Alone with such a small force as ours, one might think that
we marched to our doom. However, among the trees of Galahir, dear
readers, one is never truly alone. No sooner had we set out from the
glade when we were met with a contingent of our Sylvan kin. They had
been tracking the goblin party that we had recently dispatched, and we
gladly combined our strength. As the sun reached its zenith and in the
shadows of Galahir, we engaged the goblin foe one last time.
Battlefield Overview |
For our final battle in the
campaign we invited another player at our FLGS to pitch in on the elf
side and bring our game size up to 1600 points. As it isn't his main
army, only his mage was painted (and it was lovely, but I forgot to get a
good picture), but we really appreciated him helping us out and
giving the final clash between Ingemon and Smack-Git a bigger scale.
The scenario for this game was "Occupy", and the purple tokens in the
above picture show their placement. The primary objectives are harder
to spot, but the one on the goblin side is towards the left (behind the
woods) and the one in the elf half is under the tallspears.
As you can see for deployment, the brunt of both armies was focused
on the right side of the field, while on the left the goblin king
Smack-Git hung out with the spitter horde with jar of four winds. As
this was the first goblin drop, we denied it many targets and at the end
of deployment placed the hunters of the wild regiment across from them
(although behind the trees), looking to clear them out and end the game
on the primary objective.
Elves won the roll for first turn and decided to take it.
Elves Turn 1 |
The elves began their advance,
looking to get some good shooting in before the goblins could respond.
The hunters of the wild, having vanguarded up, moved into the woods
ready for a turn 2 charge on the spitter horde.
The archers on the far right put 1 damage on the mincer, while the
bolt thrower took out the goblin sharpstick thrower in one shot.
Goblin Turn 1 |
The goblin advance was cautious, looking to maintain a threatening
formation. The big rocks thrower hit the tallspears on the hill, dealing
6 damage. The spitters tried to halt the hunters of the wild, but the 2
damage was not enough.
Elves Turn 2: Hunters of the Wild charge the Spitters. |
While the hunters engaged the
spitters, one unit of tallspears moved to tempt a charge from the
trolls, while palace guard and the other tallspears readied a counter
charge. The sparkstone failed to disorder the trombone, but the archers
on the right were able to waver the mincer. The wizard healed 3 points
on the damaged tallspears. The bolt thrower targeted the big rocks
thrower and went two for two, destroying it.
In combat the hunters put 7 damage on the spitters.
Goblin Turn 2:
In a move I hadn't seen coming, the sharpsticks horde moved
backwards, opening a charge lane for the giant to multi-charge the
tallspears along with the trolls. The trombone targeted the mage on the
hill, dealing 5 damage, while the wiz used his amulet of fire-heart to
lightning and then bloodboil the unengaged tallspears, bringing them up
to 9.
In combat the combined might of the giant and the trolls routed the tallspears.
Elves Turn 3 |
The remaining tallspear unit
charged the flank of the rabble regiment, while the palace guard charged
the trolls. The prince moved to unleash the kitty on the war trombone.
The bolt thrower targeted King Smack-Git (who had been helping the
spitters counter-charge the hunters of the wild) and hit him for 1
damage. The archers on the hill targeted the giant, putting 3 damage on
him, while the mage healed the tallspears by a mighty 5 points! The
sabre-toothed kitty chased away the war trombone's crew, and presumably
spent the rest of the battle licking itself on a tree branch. The
archers on the far right, realising that the mincer was out of range for
a charge next turn anyway, and that destroying it would only open a
charge lane for the fleabag riders, focused fire on said riders and,
with some help from the other mage's fireball, routed them.
In combat the palace guard dealt 4 damage to the trolls, while the tallspears scattered the rabble and turned to face the giant.
Goblins Turn 3 |
The trolls regenerated 1 damage
and counter-charged. The giant charged the tallspears, and the mincer
moved up at the double, ending some two inches from the elf archers. The
mounted biggit and the wiz focused fire on the mage and took him out.
In the combats the goblins had much to celebrate, with both the trolls and the giant routing their foes.
Elves Turn 4 |
Things were looking very
delicate now, and the elves could not afford to put a foot wrong. The
prince moved to block the giant's charge lanes to the elf archers (i.e.
precious scoring units) but did not charge, so as to allow another
volley at him. On the right, with the mincer uninspired and on 3 damage,
the mage sitting behind it would use fireball to clear it, and so the
other archers either backed up or pivoted to target the trolls. Rather
than continue targeting the goblin king, the bolt thrower turned to
cover the primary objective next turn.
Shooting began with the remaining mage fireballing the mincer - 0
damage. Oh dear. In desperation, the only archer troop that could
targeted the mincer, and despite needing 6s to hit and damage, manage 1
point, bringing it up to 4! Nerve was then rolled and... a 4. All that
drama, and the mincer wasn't even wavered. The archers now facing (in
one sense) an inevitable rear charge put 2 damage on the trolls,
bringing them to 5 and wavering them! The shooting that focused on the
giant dealt 4 in total, taking him to 7.
On the far side of the battlefield the hunters of the wild finally
convinced the spitters to bugger off, and turned towards the primary
objective, the path to which was blocked by King Smack-Git himself.
Goblins Turn 4: Mincer does some mincin'. |
The trolls regenerated 1 and
rolled their dwarven ale headstrong, passing it and advancing onto the
primary objective. The giant charged the prince, while the wiz and
biggit focused fire on an archer troop, dealing 2 damage.
The giant dealt 4 damage to Ingemon but (after a re-roll) only
managed a waver. The mincer minced the archers, and turned to face the
other.
Elves Turn 5 |
The angle of the mincer allowed
the archer troop to move past it and out of the charge arc, looking to
contest one of the central objectives on turn 6. One of the archers on
the hill backed out of the sharpstick's charge range, as did the wavered
prince so as to keep inspiring them. Shooting on the trolls brought
them to 7 damage but couldn't waver them, while the giant on the other
hand was brought up to 10 and successfully wavered.
In the only combat, the hunters of the wild dealt 6 damage to the goblin king, bringing him to 7 but after a re-roll only wavering him.
Goblin Turn 5:
The goblins hastily moved their biggit and flaggit to inspire the trolls (who regenerated 3 points) and the giant respectively. The sharpstick horde moved onto one of the central objectives, and the mincer turned to face the rear of the nearest archer troop.
With shooting achieving little, it was time for potentially the last turn.
In the only combat, the hunters of the wild dealt 6 damage to the goblin king, bringing him to 7 but after a re-roll only wavering him.
Goblin Turn 5:
The goblins hastily moved their biggit and flaggit to inspire the trolls (who regenerated 3 points) and the giant respectively. The sharpstick horde moved onto one of the central objectives, and the mincer turned to face the rear of the nearest archer troop.
With shooting achieving little, it was time for potentially the last turn.
Elves Turn 6 |
One archer troop moved off the
hill, out of the giant's arc of sight and onto a central objective,
while the other turned to shoot the trolls. Further right, the other
archers moved to contest the objective held by the sharpsticks. Prince
Ingemon charged the wiz.
The mage redeemed herself somewhat by finally fireballing the mincer
to death. Otherwise shooting was a bust, managing only 1 damage on the
trolls (achieving nothing) and 1 on the giant, bringing him to 11 but,
thanks to a poor nerve roll, failing to halt it.
Prince Ingemon dealt 3 damage to the wiz and wavered him. The hunters
of the wild finally chased off King Smack-Git (typical goblin
leadership eh?). If they rolled a 6 on the overrun, they would hold the
primary objective. Rolling only a 2, a 7th turn would be needed to
secure a win/draw.
Goblin Turn 6:
Going into this turn the score was 2-1 to the goblins. The trolls
regenerated 2 damage and turned to face the board centre. The
sharpsticks charged the archer troop (forgot yellow-bellied!). The giant
had the choice of a rear-charge on an archer troop, but fearing a turn 7
turnaround instead moved to contest the objective held by the archer
troop. In combat the sharpsticks wavered the archer troop.
We rolled for turn 7, but it wasn't to be.
Goblin victory!
End of game positions. |
From the Prince's memoirs:
We had fought valiantly but, in this part of the forest at least, our
cause was lost. Devastation was all that could be seen in the wake of
our foe, and despite our best efforts to halt its progression, evil
itself moved through those woods. Spurred by shadow and flame.
Our survivors were now too few for us to continue. The journey back
to Therennia Adar loomed. Though our hearts were heavy with sorrow for
what we had witnessed, I write this account as a testimony to the
courage of our Sea-Kindred, who fought in a distant land for a cause
that rests close to the hearts of all our kin. As we mourn what was
lost, may we ever kindle the fires of our righteous vengeance, and let
forth this cry unto the darkness: the elves stand with the trees.
***
Smack-Git was pretty sure that human kings didn't have to hide
amongst tall grass from insane Elf warriors. On the other hand, if they
ever did, they would doubtless be far less capable of remaining unseen
than Smack-Git was, such was his remarkable skill set.
It had been a good hour at least since the Elves had swarmed his
position, slicing through the goblin bowmen like twigs. Smack-Git had
fought valiantly, taking one out with his axe, before resolving to fire
arrows into them from a distance. He had even managed to hold them off
when they turned to charge him, until it became clear that they were
capable of ending his life. With the future of his Goblindom in danger,
Smack-Git had no choice but to escape.
Now, crouched in the grass, he could hear the sound of some kind of
hounds approaching. Had the Elves sent hunting dogs? Did they even use
those? He cautiously peeked through the grass. A group of Goblins riding
fleabags were heading towards his position. He immediately stood up and
began straightening his armour to restore some dignity.
As the fleabags drew near, he recognised Grotti at the head of the group. He addressed him as the group drew near.
"I see you have also managed to escape Grotti. Have the survivers
regrouped? We should feed one in ten to any Trolls which wondered off
during the fight, to remind them to keep fighting."
Grotti looked like he was about to respond but he let his King finish.
"I believe we have some more workers at the logging camp, we can
either make a stand there or take what timber we have and load them into
carts. We can begin a staggered retreat from the forest till-"
"My lord Smack-Git, King of the Goblins, Tamer of Trolls, Rider of
Chariots, Wrestler of Mawbeasts, Giant Speaker, Basilisk Breeder, Archer
Supreme and Wielder of the Golden axe of Ogre-Slicing."
Smack-Git closed his mouth. Grotti only bothered to speak half his
full titles, and even then only when he had something important to say.
"My King, the gits in your position distracted the enemy so that our
gits could take the enemy position. The elves are legging it. We won the
battle."
King Smack-Git stared in silence for nearly 10 seconds. Then he burst
into laughter such that one can only hear in the most destitute asylum.
The other scouts began to laugh in sympathy but Grotti just stared
straight ahead, a bored vacant expression overtaking his features.
"YES!" he yelled between fits of laughter, "I AM UNSTOPPABLE!"
Epilogue
The sun rose on a frosty morning at Tiriant
Dalath, its
light promising a warmth
it would not
deliver. The
ongoing restoration of
the island fortress could be still be seen, with wooden scaffolds
spanning great lengths of the stonework. Due
to the biting winds from the
north, activity
had waned
somewhat, and those elves who continued to labour did so while
bundled tightly in their cloaks. From
his window in
the topmost room
of the great tower, Ingemon looked out across the Infant
Sea.
A little
over a month had passed since
their ignoble return to the fortress, at which point Iólon had set
sail for Walldeep. Barring
any trouble, the mage should have arrived weeks ago. Truly, there was
yet no reason to worry,
thought Ingemon. Still, he
should have received some word from the capital by now.
“Yes…” he
muttered, “news does seem to have a habit of missing Tiriant
Dalath.” With every passing
day, his apprehension
grew.
“Did you say
something, my Lord?”
Ingemon turned to see one of the tower stewards,
who had been tending the fire. He had done his job well, as the
flames confidently beat back the ever-encroaching cold.
“Nothing
important… Calithilben?”
“Yes, my Lord.”
The steward smiled
appreciatively. Ingemon returned it lightly,
and gave a small nod, signalling
that he may go.
Calithilben collected his things, bowed, and left to continue his
rounds. Ingemon stepped away
from the room’s solitary window and towards the writing desk.
Compared with the tower’s
many other rooms, the study was small and humble. Its
prestige, as is
so often the case
in elven culture, was
granted purely by virtue of
its superior altitude.
Its rounded
walls formed a perfect circle, with a crescent-shaped desk occupying
the centre. The chair was
large and ostentatious,
on both counts at odds with the rest of the room.
The space was
further diminished by the
shelves Ingemon had had brought up for his own use, as those already
there were filled with the various effects of the previous resider
– the mage Iólon. Ingemon
glanced over these
shelves as he passed,
something he had done many
times before. Books
and scrolls jostled with unusual and intricate contraptions, jars
of mysterious liquids sat nestled among the various ingredients which
no doubt produced them, plants, fungi, fingers…
Ingemon
repressed a shudder. He had great respect for the secrets of the
mystic arts, but as far as he was concerned, the more secret they
were, the better. While he often caught himself gazing at some item
or another on Iólon’s shelves, nothing had been, nor would ever
be, disturbed.
He moved to the
desk and sat down in
the
ornate chair. He
absent-mindedly ran his hands along the delicately carved designs
that adorned the chair’s arms, an intriguing yet ultimately
formless meandering by the undoubtedly skilled artisan.
A map of the region lay
immediately before him, and to his left were the latest reports for
his consideration. The
majority related to administrative concerns at the fortress,
supplies, progress on the repairs, the watch rotation, and so on.
Ingemon began to pile
these to one side as he sifted through, finally coming to the one
that most interested him – the scouting
report. The lack of
news from the outside was maddening, and had stocked his temptation to
send his scouts out further afield. He
had resisted, however, and as such the report, coming from the
patrols on the coastline to the north, was the same as always –
nothing. No activity to report.
Feeling another
wave of disquiet approaching, Ingemon quickly marked the page to
indicate that he had
reviewed it, and grabbed the next report on the pile. It
looked like the lumber supplies were getting low, and they would have
to increase their projected purchases for the next few
months
if the reconstruction was not to suffer a
setback. However, with the
coming winter, the trade price will have increased and… as
Ingemon’s eyes wandered from the page, so too
did his mind wander
from the present. Gazing out
the window, the prince found himself remembering the long march back
from Galahir, and his parting with Iólon. Images of the burning
forest still haunted him, and the elves were like ghosts themselves
as they trudged back south. Somehow
Ingemon had maintained the strength to continue his journal of
events, noting that the battle for the plains appeared to have gone
particularly well, with orc, goblin, and rat-thing alike sent packing
by the combined might of the kingdoms of men – as
well as their ogre allies, of
course. When they reached
Tiriant Dalath Ingemon
had sent Iólon back to Therennia Adar
with the journal, to deliver the account directly to High
King Ariandaras’s council.
Ingemon, charged with defending the island fortress, would remain
there until his inevitable recall. The
dishonour of his defeat at Galahir had
sealed his fate, and it would be many years before they would grant
him another opportunity to prove himself.
Putting
the reports to one side, Ingemon opened one of the desk drawers and
collected a roll of parchment from within. Pieces
of broken wax
still clung to the page,
revealing fragments of the Sea Kindred’s military
seal.
While the fortress
had received no word from the higher ups in Walldeep, this missive
from Captain Sæwon had arrived one week after Ingemon’s return
from Galahir. The captain had
been visiting salamander ports to the east, organising trade and
making connections with that seafaring race, whose dominion of the
waves could be matched only by the Sea Kindred themselves. Sæwon
had since returned, but his initial report was so thorough that he
had had nothing to add. Unfolding
it before him, for what must
have been the hundredth time, Ingemon
began to read. While the
captain naturally gave
precedence to his diplomatic and trading mission, he had wisely
thought
to include a summary of the various news and rumours he had gleaned
regarding the wider war. To
the east, the undead fleet lay in ruins, and the abyssal dwarf
invasion had been halted. More astonishing than these victories, the
Green Lady’s alliance had not only held back the expansion of the
Abyss, but had sunk it, creating a new sea in the north. In
the face of these victories, Sæwon had discovered nothing concrete
regarding Galahir, and heard nothing at all about the Twilight
Glades. Neither boded well.
It
seemed the elves had paid a high price in this war.
The wind was
picking up, and caused the small window to rattle. As Ingemon
considered whether to close the inner shutters, the faint sound of a
horn briefly slipped between the window’s clattering. It was so
brief, in fact, that the prince was sure that he had imagined it. But
then the wind abated slightly, and there was no denying it. A
ship was approaching. Ingemon
moved to the window, and from his vantage point could clearly make
out the tell-tale shape of a Sea-Kindred vessel, coming in from the
west.
“Iólon!” he
thought, pleased that his old tutor had finally returned, and that
the silence from the capital would finally be broken. Although,
that also meant the time had come.
He would find out the
fate to which
the council had condemned him. With
an uncomfortable mix of eagerness and apprehension, Ingemon began to
descend the tower.
***
As port workers brought the sleek elven craft to
berth, Iólon assessed the work on the walls. Clearly, there had been
a slow down, but given recent events he was pleased that there was
any progress at all. The turbulence of the war had resulted not only
in a disruption of trade, but a drastic shift in the priorities of
the King’s council. The restoration of Tiriant Dalath, a
bold initiative among many from only a year ago, was now treated as
an indulgence of those originally tasked with its undertaking.
Normally, Iólon would consider such incoherence to be typical of the
council, but given the profound impact of the recent war, he supposed
they could be given a pass. So engrossed was the mage in his musings
that he failed to notice Ingemon walking up the pier to greet him. It
was only as he began to disembark that he spotted the prince waiting
for him. The controlled look on his face told Iólon that he feared
the worst, much as he might try to hide it. The mage smiled.
“My apologies for the long absence, Ingemon. I’m
glad to see you’re taking good care of my tower.”
This teased a smile from the prince, and they
clasped hands. “Of course. Although, what good is a tower really,
without a mage in the spire, looking down on the rest of us?”
“True. Our benevolent gaze is a gift to the
world.”
They laughed, and began to walk along the pier. “I
see the cold has come early to these lands. Winter’s touch should
be months away.”
Ingemon nodded absently. “Yes, the north winds
press on us with a vengeance. Or as if fleeing their homelands.”
It was clear the prince’s mind was not truly on
the weather. Iólon decided to cut to the chase.
“Galahir was saved, Ingemon.”
For a moment, it appeared that the prince could
not process this. Then surprise flooded his features.
“What? How?”
Iólon gave a shrug. “The details aren’t
clear, nor do they particularly matter. We have confirmation that
after we left, the Lady’s forces turned the tide and drove out the
goblins.”
Ingemon let out a short laugh, expressing a
mixture of stunned relief and joy. This was quickly followed by a
look of horror.
“But my journal… did you deliver my account to
the council?”
“It was the first thing I did. I only found out
myself after.”
“But… but I describe a defeat! I mourn the
loss of the Forest!” His voice had risen, and several heads turned
to look at them. He regained his composure. “They’ll think me a
fool.”
“Actually, your account was very well received
by the council.”
“What?”
“In light of the overall victory at Galahir, I
mean.” Ingemon was about to speak, but the mage held up his hand,
and carried on. “Your account describes the noble sacrifice of our
forces to save the Forest, and saved it was. That you believed
to have failed only added to its effect in the council’s view.”
“Its effect? It wasn’t poetry, it was a
report.”
“It was an account, Ingemon, you can hardly
claim to have presented unembellished facts. Come, I wish to see the
work on the walls more closely. Let’s walk along the battlements.”
The prince shrugged, and they climbed the steps.
They walked in silence for a moment, Ingemon lost in thought, Iólon
patiently awaiting the next question. When it came, it wasn’t what
he had expected.
“Why did you take so long to return?”
“A number of reasons. My testimony took a lot
longer than it should have – they wanted me to confirm everything
you had described. Then there was the publishing.”
“Publishing?”
“Of your account.” They stopped walking. “I’ll
be blunt, Ingemon. The council have turned you and your account into
something of a… propaganda tool. Your account has been widely
distributed among the capital’s citizenry. You’re famous.”
“Famous… for a defeat?”
Iólon shrugged. “The people love it. And as for
the other factors in my delay, well, I was forced to wait while your
reinforcements were prepared.” He gestured out to the ship. Ingemon
looked, and saw a contingent of extravagantly equipped soldiers in
the process of disembarking. With their two-handed blades and
resplendent armour, there was no mistaking a contingent of Palace
Guard.
The prince turned to Iólon, who could not help
but let out a laugh at his look of total astonishment. His every
expectation had been utterly overturned.
“Then I take it that I am not to be recalled and
demoted?”
Iólon placed a hand on Ingemon’s shoulder, and
gave him a look of amused condolence. “I’m afraid you’re stuck
out here for now, young Lord.”
Ingemon shook his head, overwhelmed. “Any other
news you’d like to give me? May as well hit me with it now.”
“Just one more thing.”
Iólon looked at him with seriousness, which
Ingemon returned.
“I’m going to need you to go ahead and get out
of my study.”
***
Smack-git wasn't there when Grotti opened the flap of his tent, but the other biggits and flagbearers were, most of whose names Grotti had never bothered to learn. None of the wizs were there, he noticed, as he found a spot in the circle to sit between a mean looking goblin wearing a black hood and a skinny wretch with an admittedly impressive nose.
“Any word from the King?” Whispered the skinny one. Grotti leered in response and the git looked away.
As Grotti expected, Smack-git let them stew a while before entering the tent, flanked by his two favourite wizs. He strutted into the middle of the circle and addressed his council.
“Well” he began, pausing for emphasis. “That didn't quite go to plan.”
He was answered by an anxious silence. The other goblins were clearly terrified but Grotti had been through all this before, and was mostly bored by the “King’s” theatrics. Mostly.
Since the first time they'd met, Grotti had only shown the bare minimum in subservience to the self proclaimed king. This seemed to frustrate Smackgit, but he had never directly acknowledged the issue. At first Grotti assumed that he would be gotten rid of for his poor brown nosing, but as time went on he found himself in Smackgits inner circle of trusted gits. Grotti could only surmise that by not directly challenging his authority, and yet having more of a spine then any of the other gits could muster, he'd broken the kings brain somehow. Even so, a dim part of him wondered if Smackgit’s mind might not snap back into place and turn Grotti into fleabag food.
“Now whose fault do we think that is?” Smack-git demanded of his coterie. Grotti remembered the living trees, fae creatures and stranger things which had overrun the logging camp and wondered idly how Smack-git was going to blame this on his followers.
“Those stinking elves!” exclaimed the hooded goblin and a few others took up his cry.
Smack-git held up his hand for silence.
“Who here saw a single elf at the camp?” For a moment the question had them stumped, until another goblin piped in with “Elves is tricksy!” and the crowd began murmuring in agreement.
Acknowledging the logic of this statement, Smack-git nodded sagely. “This much is true, but even so,” he paused again, “when the trolls and I were fighting to defend the camp” (when you were standing behind the trolls and yelling, Grotti thought) “which of my loyal gits were fighting at my side?”
The goblins sat in stunned silence. Grotti tried to consider what kind of moron would have actually stayed behind for such a lost cause when even Smack-git hadn't lasted much longer than his gits. Maybe something particularly stupid, like a dwarf or a dog, which to Grotti was basically one and the same.
“YOU ALL FLED! LIKE RATS!” The goblins around Grotti flinched and cowered in fear.
Smack-git collected himself. “Your cowardice will be made an example of.” He began pointing to the various gits and counting to himself. He skipped Grotti and pointed to the skinny one next to him. “You.”
The long nosed git started panicking as two rabble entered the tent and started dragging him out. His pleas for forgiveness were pointedly ignored, and soon his screams were replaced by the sounds of Fleabags fighting over his remains.
This ritual continued until about a third of the goblins in the tent were gone. Smack-git, finally satisfied, unceremoniously told everyone to get out and the various gits started squeezing out the flap, each trying to appear as unhurried as possible.
“Not you, Khan” called Smack-git as Grotti got to his feet. Once the tent was cleared, the younger of the two Wizes brought out a table and began spreading a map across its surface. The older Wiz sat cross legged on the floor,staring into space.
“Take a look.” Smack-git pointed at the map. Grotti peered down at the table. It depicted the north western area of Mantica, with a particular focus on the Ardovikian plain. A valley had been crudely circled. Smack-git pointed to it. “ Zomog’s visions have pointed us to this valley. It is here that I shall found my kingdom.”
Grotti scratched his stomach idly. “Isn't that orc territory?” Smack-git laughed, always an unpleasant sound. “The orcs have been broken by the armies of men and their ogre lackeys. This valley is ripe for conquest!”
Grotti nodded. It was clear that Smack-git was set on this plan. He had likely brought Grotti over to hear him agree out loud, which Smack-git expected everyone to do. Grotti decided to skip this tiresome ritual and instead addressed the sitting figure, “what kind of vision?”
Smack-git looked confused, but didn't say anything. Zomog remained utterly still, and Grotti began to wonder if he was aware that he'd been asked a question until finally, the wiz opened his mouth.
“An ancient kingdom, drowning in winter. A great thaw, a city in ruins. A land forgotten, awaiting a master.”
The younger wiz began cackling unnervingly. Zomog slowly rose to his feet and approached Smack-git.
“This will be your kingdom.”
Smack-git turned to face Grotti, a satisfied look on his face. Grotti nodded again, watching Zomog and wondering where the real power would lie in this kingdom.
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