B
Belomar
Guest
[Note: I posted this chronicle here since this event has already been discussed here and may be of interest to others. However, it was not really a realm-wide event, so if you think that this is not of interest to everyone, please say so. 
]
Yet another fair day dawned on beautiful Albion, the first probing tendrils of sunlight finding your chronicler speeding north from the hamlet of Cotswold after a night of performance in the local inn. Setting my course for remote Castle Sauvage, I quickly entered the Highlands, planning to meet up with a few of my fellow guild members to travel to the land of the Ellylls in the savage Pennine Mountains. However, upon reaching the powerful castle guarding the very entrance to the Albion heartland, I was met with worrying reports of warbands of Midgardian invaders roving the far-flung Pennines. One group of Albion defenders under the able command of the master wizard Eraser of the Templar Knights had reportedly met their demise at the hands of one such group of cursed enemies encroaching into our frontiers.
Something had to be done.
Forgetting our own enterprise of trying to get our hands on some of the useful items held by the Ellyll people, we joined with the Templar Knights group to put an end to the Midgardian reign of terror in the Albion frontier. Travelling north on swift feet, we treaded our way through perilous routes bordered by gnarlwoods and rock bounders, finally being rewarded by the stunning sight of the valley of the Ellyll people open up before us. Maintaining our ruse of looking for Ellyll items, we moved into position on the desolate mountain ledge leading to the ancient ruins hulking in the southeast part of the valley, knowing that the Midgard invaders surely would attempt to strike at us once our attention was fully turned to the task of disposing of the Ellyll foe charging our ground. To prevent this from happening, your chronicler put away his flute and drum and took to melting into the background, moving behind the Albion party to guard its rear.
Sure enough, it did not take long for the foul invaders to show themselves, approaching speedily from the rear, clearly under the hastening influence of a skald. Fortunately, your chronicler was able to quickly detect the appearance of the Midgard force and move aside in time, holding my breath as one of the invaders charged past not three feet from my position. Desperately relaying the information of the imminent attack to my comrades ahead, I quit my hiding place and took to pursuing the charging enemy, beating a hastening rhythm of my own on my drum. The enemy clearly had the advantage of surprise, but they did not know of me, something I intended to make full use of.
Unfortunately, my companions were busy dispatching a group of Ellyll guards, and were unable to respond quickly enough to my desperate warning. Within seconds, the dark-clad vermin had reached our position, their first blows scything down brave Uridith, master theurgist, to the cold ground. However, as the huge Norseman leading the assault turned to his next victim, the snickering Kobold at the rear of the group choked on his laughter as the sweet music of a flute wielded by a Virtuoso reached his ears from behind and rooted him to the ground.
Aye, your humble chronicler had caught up with the enemy and had mesmerized the hapless Kobold. However, as I completed my spell, a surge of cold rage overtook me, wiping out all logic and reasoning. Instead of moving on to mesmerize the next invader in line, I put away my flute and drew my axe and shield, leaping to attack the Kobold caster in a fury of blows. This mistake cost me and my group dearly; as I was dispatching the midget invader with great difficulty, my companions fell around me, one after another. First, the wizards Ziro and Eraser went down under the onslaught of the enemy warriors, and then the friar Tazmina caught a mortal blow to the head, soon to be followed by her guardian and partner, Boramire. The brave paladin Rushie, attacked by both the Ellyll guard and the huge Norse warrior, also fell beneath superior force. When at last I was able to turn from the sagging body of the Kobold shaman, I was devastated by the sight of Albion bodies littered across that arid ledge. Funnelling my rage onto the nearest target, I engaged the huge and stinking Norseman directing the assault, my anger giving me the strength and agility that finally allowed me to fell its huge bulk before me. However, in doing so, I was all but spent, and did not have time to react to the second enemy coming up from behind. The next thing I knew, darkness was engulfing me and the ground was rushing up to embrace me.
Of the rest of the battle, I know nothing but which has been told to me upon the friar Feac reawakening me from the dead; that the armsman Tempestblade, clad in burnished gold plate armor and wielding a terrible sword with the expert skill of years of practice, alone remained standing; that Tempestblade managed to engage and dispatch the wicked Midgard warrior that slew me; that the Albion defenders at last stood victorious against the Midgardians, their encroachment checked. I only know that I will regret my choice to not continue mesmerizing the enemy to the end of my days.
]Yet another fair day dawned on beautiful Albion, the first probing tendrils of sunlight finding your chronicler speeding north from the hamlet of Cotswold after a night of performance in the local inn. Setting my course for remote Castle Sauvage, I quickly entered the Highlands, planning to meet up with a few of my fellow guild members to travel to the land of the Ellylls in the savage Pennine Mountains. However, upon reaching the powerful castle guarding the very entrance to the Albion heartland, I was met with worrying reports of warbands of Midgardian invaders roving the far-flung Pennines. One group of Albion defenders under the able command of the master wizard Eraser of the Templar Knights had reportedly met their demise at the hands of one such group of cursed enemies encroaching into our frontiers.
Something had to be done.
Forgetting our own enterprise of trying to get our hands on some of the useful items held by the Ellyll people, we joined with the Templar Knights group to put an end to the Midgardian reign of terror in the Albion frontier. Travelling north on swift feet, we treaded our way through perilous routes bordered by gnarlwoods and rock bounders, finally being rewarded by the stunning sight of the valley of the Ellyll people open up before us. Maintaining our ruse of looking for Ellyll items, we moved into position on the desolate mountain ledge leading to the ancient ruins hulking in the southeast part of the valley, knowing that the Midgard invaders surely would attempt to strike at us once our attention was fully turned to the task of disposing of the Ellyll foe charging our ground. To prevent this from happening, your chronicler put away his flute and drum and took to melting into the background, moving behind the Albion party to guard its rear.
Sure enough, it did not take long for the foul invaders to show themselves, approaching speedily from the rear, clearly under the hastening influence of a skald. Fortunately, your chronicler was able to quickly detect the appearance of the Midgard force and move aside in time, holding my breath as one of the invaders charged past not three feet from my position. Desperately relaying the information of the imminent attack to my comrades ahead, I quit my hiding place and took to pursuing the charging enemy, beating a hastening rhythm of my own on my drum. The enemy clearly had the advantage of surprise, but they did not know of me, something I intended to make full use of.
Unfortunately, my companions were busy dispatching a group of Ellyll guards, and were unable to respond quickly enough to my desperate warning. Within seconds, the dark-clad vermin had reached our position, their first blows scything down brave Uridith, master theurgist, to the cold ground. However, as the huge Norseman leading the assault turned to his next victim, the snickering Kobold at the rear of the group choked on his laughter as the sweet music of a flute wielded by a Virtuoso reached his ears from behind and rooted him to the ground.
Aye, your humble chronicler had caught up with the enemy and had mesmerized the hapless Kobold. However, as I completed my spell, a surge of cold rage overtook me, wiping out all logic and reasoning. Instead of moving on to mesmerize the next invader in line, I put away my flute and drew my axe and shield, leaping to attack the Kobold caster in a fury of blows. This mistake cost me and my group dearly; as I was dispatching the midget invader with great difficulty, my companions fell around me, one after another. First, the wizards Ziro and Eraser went down under the onslaught of the enemy warriors, and then the friar Tazmina caught a mortal blow to the head, soon to be followed by her guardian and partner, Boramire. The brave paladin Rushie, attacked by both the Ellyll guard and the huge Norse warrior, also fell beneath superior force. When at last I was able to turn from the sagging body of the Kobold shaman, I was devastated by the sight of Albion bodies littered across that arid ledge. Funnelling my rage onto the nearest target, I engaged the huge and stinking Norseman directing the assault, my anger giving me the strength and agility that finally allowed me to fell its huge bulk before me. However, in doing so, I was all but spent, and did not have time to react to the second enemy coming up from behind. The next thing I knew, darkness was engulfing me and the ground was rushing up to embrace me.
Of the rest of the battle, I know nothing but which has been told to me upon the friar Feac reawakening me from the dead; that the armsman Tempestblade, clad in burnished gold plate armor and wielding a terrible sword with the expert skill of years of practice, alone remained standing; that Tempestblade managed to engage and dispatch the wicked Midgard warrior that slew me; that the Albion defenders at last stood victorious against the Midgardians, their encroachment checked. I only know that I will regret my choice to not continue mesmerizing the enemy to the end of my days.
