B
Belomar
Guest
[I started writing a chronicle for the events at Odin's and Bledmeer last night, but it seems I am getting more chatty lately, so I decided to split the chronicle into two parts. This first part is about us breaking through the Mid blockade at AMG in Odin's, the second will come later.]
The place is snowy Odin's Gate in the far-flung Midgard frontiers, the time is early morning with a sullen sun lending more light than warmth to the bleak and frosty landscape. The mournful howling of the wind in the battlements of the Albion portal keep and the mumbled creaking of snow-laden trees under heavy stress is all that betrays the eerie silence. Odin's Gate rests under the oppressive calm of a land under siege.
Indeed, appearances lie, for all across the distant realm of Albion, plans are being set in motion and large forces are amassing to descend on the frosty Midgard frontier. In the icy keep of Bledmeer Faste in the eastern reaches of the Gate, the valiant Dragon Knights have claimed possession and are intent on defending the keep to the last man. Bledmeer must hold, for it is the staging base for continued strikes deep into the Midgard frontier.
Your humble chronicler, having previously scouted out the lay of the land together with the master wizard Ziro before falling prey to a Midgard war party, arrived at the Albion portal keep together with the main parts of the Albion army. Reports had come in from scouts guarding the Albion Mile Gate that a large Midgard force had moved into position to block the gate from Albions trying to break through to reinforce the beleaguered forces at Bledmeer, while at the same time a second Midgard army had just arrived at the keep and begun the assault. The situation was dire and quickly becoming more serious. The Dragon Knights at Bledmeer were seriously outnumbered and in desperate need for help. I must admit that it was with a certain feeling of dread I stepped off the portal pad that day, looking up at the grey sky above and feeling the bite of the cold on my skin, wondering what horrible sights the day had in store for me.
Fortunately, I was far from alone in this savage frontier. With a number of my trusted companions of the Shadowlords Society in my group, our band was a formidable force in itself, and beyond this were the assorted Albion raiders from other guilds. The Albion army was large and quite well-disciplined, forming up outside of the portal keep for the travel overland towards the mile gate, a number of fast marauding groups fanning out in front of the main army to handle the scouts sent out by the Midgard force. As we proceeded towards the mile gate, several skirmishes blossomed up on the outskirts of the army, but the Midgard vermin was quickly dispatched of and the army continued eastwards unscathed.
Upon reaching the Albion Mile Gate, however, things quickly took a turn for the worse. Even before reaching the impressive bulk of the ancient stone fortification connecting the two unclimbable mountain ridges ringing the Albion portal keep, we could all hear the awful clamor of battle in the distance and see the corpses of fallen Albion defenders littering the road leading up to the gate. As we crested the last hill overlooking the wall, we were greeted by the horrid sight of a field of corpses in front of the gate itself, the once-pure snow colored crimson by the blood of the fallen heroes of Albion. And among the corpses was the vile Midgard scum, snickering Kobolds and hulking Trolls looting and mutilating the corpses, plainly looking for gold and valuables. Abandoning all caution, the Albion army surged forward with a collective roar of fury, quickly closing the distance to the Midgard plunderers and tearing into their ranks with devastating results. Kobolds, Norsemen, Dwarfs, and Trolls alike were all savagely cut down by the righteous fury of the Albion attackers and left to die horribly among the Albion corpses they had so recently sacrileged.
However, the majority of the Midgard force were far more disciplined and had already withdrawn back to the Albion wall itself, having firmly entrenched themselves on its battlements. Before long, the lethal rune bolts of the enemy casters were starting to stream down from the wall itself, and Midgard hunters were pelting the attackers with arrows. In our group, the clerics Arindra and Roland quickly found themselves healing the other party members as fast as they could, and this was soon mirrored in all the other groups at the gate. An initial charge into the gatehouse itself was quickly stopped in its tracks by the Midgard healers' mesmerize spells, and the members of that charge were one by one picked off by slobbering Trolls wielding huge weapons and trod beneath their boots as they went down. Again and again, the Albion forces pushed forward and attempted to gain a foothold outside the huge wall, only to be thwarted by the superior Midgard numbers waiting on the other side. The situation quickly deteriorated into a stand-off, with neither side having the numbers nor the incentive to break through.
As the news came in of the first door at Bledmeer being knocked down by the assaulting Midgard army, however, our predicament was made even more urgent. We knew that if we did not break through the blockade and reached Bledmeer within the short future, the keep would fall and all our efforts would be in vain. Something had to be done.
Desperate situations breed desperate measures. Backing off behind the assault army at the gate, the minstrel Mazsola Slowhand gathered his fellow guild members to him. The plan was simple, yet daring. Using mine and Mazsola's Speed of Sound abilities, the group would attempt to break through the blockade and lose any pursuers in the snow-laden woods outside the gate, hoping that no enemy would be able to call down enough damage on us on the run to stop us in our tracks. We all made ready and waited for an opportunity when both of the doors in the gate would be open simultaneously.
The doors opened, and with a shared battlecry, the Shadowlords Society charged the enemy. It did not take long for the Midgard defenders to notice the new threat bearing down on them, and despite my heart pounding like a sledgehammer in my chest, it was amusing to see the bearded faces of the Dwarves manning the gate distort in surprise as we emerged from the fray. Midgard warriors immediately stepped forward and raised their shields, attempting to block off our path and stop our charge, but to no avail. With the magic of the Speed of Sound spell coarsing in our veins, we were unstoppable, and plowed through the blocking force and out on the other side as if the Devil was breathing down our necks. Only the unfortunate sorcerer Aelfren fell prey to the Midgard defenders. Mazsola, at the front of the group, quickly veered off the main road and ran among the heavy pines and firs surrounding it on either side, the rest of our party following suit and whipping up a whirlwind of stinging snow in our wake. Just as my fellow minstrel's spell ran out, I cast my own Speed of Sound, the spell bearing us on its wings further into the snowy woods.
Deep into the forest Mazsola led us, leaving the Albion gate far behind, but when at last my spell dropped as well, a necklace of Midgard pursuers clung to us, trying to catch us up. Unfortunately, the wizard Ziro and the sorcerer Pazuzu happened to be too close to these vile scum, and were cowardly cut down from behind, shortly followed by brave Arindra, her holy hammer counting for naught against the combined forces of the Midgard pursuers. However, when at last the group of five attackers turned to the remaining living members of our group, the Powers That Be smiled on us. Within seconds, half of the pursuers were mesmerized and left helpless by the commanding notes of me and Mazsola's flutes before we had put our instruments away and unsheath our swords. Two huge Trolls bore down on my fellow minstrel while a Kobold shaman sneaked up to heal his comrades. I quickly joined up with the cleric Roland to dispatch a blond Norseman, the frosty icicles on his beard shattering as my eldritch-sharpened sword found its mark, and then turned my attention to the Kobold shaman, mesmerizing him. As the infiltrator Osrim, not a guild member but yet a worthy addition to any war party, engaged the two Trolls who were helplessly trying to catch the dancing, side-stepping Mazsola, I sneaked up behind the hapless shaman and brought down my trusty blade on its hooded form, screaming out my rage in a devastating attack on the Kobold. At my current state of mind, no enemy would be able to survive for long, and with the Kobold's body crumpling before me, I was able to turn around in time to see Mazsola skillfully skewering one of the Trolls with a mortal blow. It was short work dispatching of the remaining Midgard pursuers.
We rejoiced at our glorious victory and our successful breaching of the Bledmeer blockade. We had done the impossible and punched through a Midgard force numbering well over fifty hardy warriors, and done so with a minimum number of casualties. Quickly resurrecting our fallen comrades from the dead, we rested briefly and mended our wounds before setting off east among the black trunks of the mighty trees dotting the landscape. We had a keep to defend, Bledmeer Faste in the distance was under heavy assault and was in dire need of our help.
The place is snowy Odin's Gate in the far-flung Midgard frontiers, the time is early morning with a sullen sun lending more light than warmth to the bleak and frosty landscape. The mournful howling of the wind in the battlements of the Albion portal keep and the mumbled creaking of snow-laden trees under heavy stress is all that betrays the eerie silence. Odin's Gate rests under the oppressive calm of a land under siege.
Indeed, appearances lie, for all across the distant realm of Albion, plans are being set in motion and large forces are amassing to descend on the frosty Midgard frontier. In the icy keep of Bledmeer Faste in the eastern reaches of the Gate, the valiant Dragon Knights have claimed possession and are intent on defending the keep to the last man. Bledmeer must hold, for it is the staging base for continued strikes deep into the Midgard frontier.
Your humble chronicler, having previously scouted out the lay of the land together with the master wizard Ziro before falling prey to a Midgard war party, arrived at the Albion portal keep together with the main parts of the Albion army. Reports had come in from scouts guarding the Albion Mile Gate that a large Midgard force had moved into position to block the gate from Albions trying to break through to reinforce the beleaguered forces at Bledmeer, while at the same time a second Midgard army had just arrived at the keep and begun the assault. The situation was dire and quickly becoming more serious. The Dragon Knights at Bledmeer were seriously outnumbered and in desperate need for help. I must admit that it was with a certain feeling of dread I stepped off the portal pad that day, looking up at the grey sky above and feeling the bite of the cold on my skin, wondering what horrible sights the day had in store for me.
Fortunately, I was far from alone in this savage frontier. With a number of my trusted companions of the Shadowlords Society in my group, our band was a formidable force in itself, and beyond this were the assorted Albion raiders from other guilds. The Albion army was large and quite well-disciplined, forming up outside of the portal keep for the travel overland towards the mile gate, a number of fast marauding groups fanning out in front of the main army to handle the scouts sent out by the Midgard force. As we proceeded towards the mile gate, several skirmishes blossomed up on the outskirts of the army, but the Midgard vermin was quickly dispatched of and the army continued eastwards unscathed.
Upon reaching the Albion Mile Gate, however, things quickly took a turn for the worse. Even before reaching the impressive bulk of the ancient stone fortification connecting the two unclimbable mountain ridges ringing the Albion portal keep, we could all hear the awful clamor of battle in the distance and see the corpses of fallen Albion defenders littering the road leading up to the gate. As we crested the last hill overlooking the wall, we were greeted by the horrid sight of a field of corpses in front of the gate itself, the once-pure snow colored crimson by the blood of the fallen heroes of Albion. And among the corpses was the vile Midgard scum, snickering Kobolds and hulking Trolls looting and mutilating the corpses, plainly looking for gold and valuables. Abandoning all caution, the Albion army surged forward with a collective roar of fury, quickly closing the distance to the Midgard plunderers and tearing into their ranks with devastating results. Kobolds, Norsemen, Dwarfs, and Trolls alike were all savagely cut down by the righteous fury of the Albion attackers and left to die horribly among the Albion corpses they had so recently sacrileged.
However, the majority of the Midgard force were far more disciplined and had already withdrawn back to the Albion wall itself, having firmly entrenched themselves on its battlements. Before long, the lethal rune bolts of the enemy casters were starting to stream down from the wall itself, and Midgard hunters were pelting the attackers with arrows. In our group, the clerics Arindra and Roland quickly found themselves healing the other party members as fast as they could, and this was soon mirrored in all the other groups at the gate. An initial charge into the gatehouse itself was quickly stopped in its tracks by the Midgard healers' mesmerize spells, and the members of that charge were one by one picked off by slobbering Trolls wielding huge weapons and trod beneath their boots as they went down. Again and again, the Albion forces pushed forward and attempted to gain a foothold outside the huge wall, only to be thwarted by the superior Midgard numbers waiting on the other side. The situation quickly deteriorated into a stand-off, with neither side having the numbers nor the incentive to break through.
As the news came in of the first door at Bledmeer being knocked down by the assaulting Midgard army, however, our predicament was made even more urgent. We knew that if we did not break through the blockade and reached Bledmeer within the short future, the keep would fall and all our efforts would be in vain. Something had to be done.
Desperate situations breed desperate measures. Backing off behind the assault army at the gate, the minstrel Mazsola Slowhand gathered his fellow guild members to him. The plan was simple, yet daring. Using mine and Mazsola's Speed of Sound abilities, the group would attempt to break through the blockade and lose any pursuers in the snow-laden woods outside the gate, hoping that no enemy would be able to call down enough damage on us on the run to stop us in our tracks. We all made ready and waited for an opportunity when both of the doors in the gate would be open simultaneously.
The doors opened, and with a shared battlecry, the Shadowlords Society charged the enemy. It did not take long for the Midgard defenders to notice the new threat bearing down on them, and despite my heart pounding like a sledgehammer in my chest, it was amusing to see the bearded faces of the Dwarves manning the gate distort in surprise as we emerged from the fray. Midgard warriors immediately stepped forward and raised their shields, attempting to block off our path and stop our charge, but to no avail. With the magic of the Speed of Sound spell coarsing in our veins, we were unstoppable, and plowed through the blocking force and out on the other side as if the Devil was breathing down our necks. Only the unfortunate sorcerer Aelfren fell prey to the Midgard defenders. Mazsola, at the front of the group, quickly veered off the main road and ran among the heavy pines and firs surrounding it on either side, the rest of our party following suit and whipping up a whirlwind of stinging snow in our wake. Just as my fellow minstrel's spell ran out, I cast my own Speed of Sound, the spell bearing us on its wings further into the snowy woods.
Deep into the forest Mazsola led us, leaving the Albion gate far behind, but when at last my spell dropped as well, a necklace of Midgard pursuers clung to us, trying to catch us up. Unfortunately, the wizard Ziro and the sorcerer Pazuzu happened to be too close to these vile scum, and were cowardly cut down from behind, shortly followed by brave Arindra, her holy hammer counting for naught against the combined forces of the Midgard pursuers. However, when at last the group of five attackers turned to the remaining living members of our group, the Powers That Be smiled on us. Within seconds, half of the pursuers were mesmerized and left helpless by the commanding notes of me and Mazsola's flutes before we had put our instruments away and unsheath our swords. Two huge Trolls bore down on my fellow minstrel while a Kobold shaman sneaked up to heal his comrades. I quickly joined up with the cleric Roland to dispatch a blond Norseman, the frosty icicles on his beard shattering as my eldritch-sharpened sword found its mark, and then turned my attention to the Kobold shaman, mesmerizing him. As the infiltrator Osrim, not a guild member but yet a worthy addition to any war party, engaged the two Trolls who were helplessly trying to catch the dancing, side-stepping Mazsola, I sneaked up behind the hapless shaman and brought down my trusty blade on its hooded form, screaming out my rage in a devastating attack on the Kobold. At my current state of mind, no enemy would be able to survive for long, and with the Kobold's body crumpling before me, I was able to turn around in time to see Mazsola skillfully skewering one of the Trolls with a mortal blow. It was short work dispatching of the remaining Midgard pursuers.
We rejoiced at our glorious victory and our successful breaching of the Bledmeer blockade. We had done the impossible and punched through a Midgard force numbering well over fifty hardy warriors, and done so with a minimum number of casualties. Quickly resurrecting our fallen comrades from the dead, we rested briefly and mended our wounds before setting off east among the black trunks of the mighty trees dotting the landscape. We had a keep to defend, Bledmeer Faste in the distance was under heavy assault and was in dire need of our help.
