12th Timber"I'm most impressed, umm... Where is Threehalls?" The mountainhome liaison walks into the mayor's office to find Laboraged occupying the nickel silver throne.
Laboraged leans back in her chair, as three children playfully bounce up and down in her lap. She grins. "Oh this isn't my office."
The liaison looks confused. "So... you're not the mayor?"
"Oh but I am. I'm just using Threehall's old office temporarily, until mine is furnished."
"Oh... What brought this about? Threehalls held the position for years."
"I'm married to Fleshring, who I'm sure you've heard of. I manage him and all 6 of our children. I think the people realized that if I can do that, I can manage this fortress."
The liaison strikes a menacing pose and has a seat, pondering that statement a moment. "Sounds fair enough to me. Well... I was hoping for a smooth process here, but it sounds like I'll have to get you up to speed on things before we move on to more current matters. Let's order drinks. We have some long days ahead."
17th Timber
"Oh!... Oh dear!" The liaison leaps up from his seat, startled by the sounding of the alarm.
Laboraged offers a calming gesture. "Sit back down. Remember, my husband is up there. We're safe."
Garlicbeard bursts into the room. "Illithid in full force! Stay inside until we give the all clear!"
---
Meanwhile, upstairs. The west and south gates have been shut, but the others have so far been inexplicably neglected. Ogress, mind-slaves of the illithid bred just for this task, make it inside the eastern gate.
None of the military have yet made it above-ground. Only two guard dogs stand between them and the main ramp below ground.
The first ogress descends one level before Paddlescaly, Quaketreaties, and Fleshring confront her head on. The brute rams into both Paddlescaly and Quaketreaties with her massive shoulder, knocking them flat. Fleshring assaults with his axe, but his first swing is batted away, resulting in only a fractured finger for the ogress. She leaps towards Paddlescaly, who merely lifts his spear. She leans her gut right into it and then stumbles back. Fleshring beheads her.
Scaraban II and Watcheddye have joined the fight, and are busy with a second ogress. She lets loose a berserker roar and knocks Scaraban II to the ground, but cannot stand against the skilled flury of blades. She's quickly crippled by pain and dismemberment, and Fleshring cleaves her head in half to once gain provide the killing blow.
Several soldiers now populate the ramp, and they surge upward into another ogress. She knocks Scaraban II down, but only opens herself up to dismemberment and braining by a final axe strike from Quaketreaties.
Paddlescaly is first to poke her head above ground, and affords a brief moment to admire the previous work of the ogress. The guard dog chains are snapped clean in half, and the dogs are nothing more than two massive stains of gore against the walls of the inner courtyard. 'I've never seen strength like this.' She thinks to herself. The rest of the ogress charge together. She slams her shield into the toe of the first one. The ogress falls over, clutching her foot in pain. 'Strength of will, however, is lacking.' she concludes as she stabs the ogress repeatedly with her spear, keeping her opponent flailing in pain and fear until she finds the proper opening to stab the beast through the brain.
The final ogress to step up to the fight confirms this observation. It's an especially thickly muscled specimen, so large weapons cannot penetrate deep enough to strike vital organs. The creature cannot stand the pain of her skin and muscle being mutilated, and passes out. Even lying prone, the soldiers have trouble penetrating her thick skull. Fleshring shoves everyone aside, "I'll do it..." He cleaves her head with a single blow. By this point, the remaining three ogress have already retreated, their mental enslavement unable to overcome their most basic instincts of self-preservation.
Fleshring calls for a charge to pursue the fleeing enemies. The dwarves are exhilerated and emboldened by their total victory over the first wave of invaders, taking not a single wound. They pursue across the bridge... forgetting the long overdue order downstairs to raise that bridge...
The mechanisms begin to turn, just as Paddlescaly and Cloisterclobbered are stepping over them. They're caught. An moment of pure panic consumes both of them, before they're sucked under completely and lost forever.
It begins to rain...
Everyone hears their final yelps as the air is crushed out of their lungs and pauses to process the horror which just transpired... Almost everyone takes some steps back towards the raised bridge, straining their minds for some way they can help. A few seconds later, the finality of the event occurs to them all at once and they charge again with renewed fury and a united cry for blood. They catch each of the remaining three ogress and tear them to shreds.
Now they're trapped outside the fortress walls, without even a way to send a message below. They have no choice but to fight through the siege.
Meanwhile, one illithid force skirts the northern walls. The marksquads have been slow to respond. One marksdwarf is spotted by the tentacled fiends as soon as he pokes his head above-ground, and two break off to fly over the walls and attack him. He finds himself engulfed in toxin clouds and flailing tentacles. He blocks and dodges several attacks, and fires at the center mass from which they emerge. Soon, he finds himself missing a foot. Still he fights from the ground, blocking with his buckler and flailing at anything that comes near with his crossbow.
Some more soldiers poke their heads above-ground and assess the situation. Calls can be heard below ground "Lower the north drawbridge!!!!"
Paintpraise's burst of heroic energy is spent, however, before the marksdwarves begin arriving in force. He is torn apart. The illithid find themselves under a storm of rock-tipped bolts. They're not very deadly, but every hit is like a solid punch. Some illithid fly over the walls into the inner courtyard, attempting to escape the ranged attacks, only to fall into the waiting blades of melee soldiers.
The main force continues to skirt the northern wall to the east, where Scaraban II and Shipcrews have wandered off and now face them alone. Scaraban II makes short work of one illithid that ran too far ahead. The numbers that threaten him now will not be so easy.
Scaraban II decides to put on a show. The next illithid that reaches him gets a solid strike to the gut. The legendary adamantine pick buries in deep and pokes out the other side of the illithid's torso, who drops to the ground and begins vomiting desperately. The entire force of eldritch abominations pauses and observes in horror as Scaraban II tortures his victim with his pick, and even crushes its ankle with a stomp. The creature gurgles helplessly, paralyzed with pain.
"Come on Shipcrews. Let's have some fun with these tentacled freaks!" He says as he buries his pick in the creature's shoulder with a meaty crunch.
Shipcrews steps forward timidly and begins poking at the illithid half-heartedly with his spear... uneasy about this display of sadism.
(
This really looks like how it happened. Scaraban crippled this illithid instantly. All the other illithid stopped advancing and appeared to just stand there watching. Shipcrews stood and watched for a long time too, before joining in.)
Another illithid flies forward at the pair and recieves a pick through his hand... then his leg... then his brain. "NEXT!"
The illithid begin to flee in earnest, now, and Scaraban II chases one down...
This was the only thing listed on this illithid's combat screen. Scaraban II killed it with a single bite to the head
while chasing.
Two illithid assault Shipcrews as he stands dumbfounded at the sight of Scaraban II's ferocity. He disabled one and begins to dispatch it. The other flees. Scaraban II intercepts this one and eliminates it with a lung-stabbing strike to the chest, then another to the brain as it lays prone, gasping for air.
The illithid that flew over the walls and assaulted the marksdwarves inside the northeast corner fortifications are put down by sheer volume of siltstone bolt fire.
-----
Things look more bleak on the southern walls. One marksdwarf, Oilysavant, stood atop the freshly constructed battlements to survey the invaders to the south.
Two of them flew up and tore him to shreds, and now two more marksdwarves have arrived to avenge him.
One engages hand-to-hand while the other takes shots. Bellspants understands his role, and regards his enemies with a cold focus. The illithid can't seem to lay a scratch on him without receiving a solid clubbing from his black bronze crossbow. If they take a step towards his partner, Doorwades, they are blocked by another clubbing. Finally, Bellspants manages to knock down one of his opponents, a floating mass of brains and tentacles referred to as an Outpost Mind Wrestler. The other leaps off the battlements and flies away. Bellspants gladly lays into his now singly opponent, biting, scratching, kicking, and bashing. He takes one tentacle in his teeth and rips it off. The illithid is helpless against the onslaught alone.
Unfortunately, his prowess earns him the attentions of a Void Master, who dives in from above and knocks Bellspants to the floor. Forces on the ground begin to take notice as well, and begin firing into the skirmish. Those that come too close to the void master are deflected by purple fields of energy which crackle with every impact. Bellspants struggles to gain his footing, but gets knocked down every time. The outpost mind wrestler floats away to wreak havoc elsewhere.
After a long struggle, the void master manages to grab Bellspants by the foot with a tentacle, and holds him upside down in the air before him, chuckling darkly. He points a finger at Bellspant's face... and at that moment, a bolt strikes the illithid in the tentacle as Bellspants twists to the side. A blast of energy shoots through Bellspant's open mouth. The otherwise fatal blast only knocks out a tooth.
Threehalls calls from below, where he leads a battery of concentrated fire on the void master. "Hang in there, Bellspants!!!" He fires another bismuth bronze bolt, striking the void master in another tentacle which cracks like brittle stone rather than flesh.
Bellspants drops to the ground and only moans in response. He scrambles and gropes at the ground, apparently blind... "I... I sfalloied sowrting!! Wsaatf heaapenging tou mueeee!! AAAGAHGUGHG!!"
The void master blasts him again, disintegrating his arm. His rotting flesh registers no pain, but he notices the arm he was leaning on suddenly missing, as he drops bodily to the floor. A burst of adrenaline shoots him to his feet, and the void master swipes at him, shattering his hip.
More bolts rain on the void master, but he doesn't even pay attention now, too caught up in the thrill of the sadistic moment. He steps forward and lightly touches Bellspants in the arm, a pulse of energy bursting like a static shock from the void master's finger.
Bellspants stands up again... the void master forms a blade of purple energy from his forearm and slashes.
The unfortunate dwarf lays completely paralyzed, his entire being a dull throbbing, gasping unsuccessfully for air. Very faintly, he can feel blood streaming through his hair, mixing with the fading patter of rain...
The void master zips around through the air, dodging the hailstorm of bolts aimed at him as he watches gleefully the agonizing passage into death of his tortured victim below. Finally, Threehalls runs up the stairs to the battlements where Bellspants lays comatose, and lands a solid bismuth bronze shot on the Void Master.
It flies away to join the main illithid force, which still slowly follows the wall around the southeast. He continues to recieve a constant barrage of crossbow fire, which finally begins to take some toll.
He disappears among the mass of marching illithid, which moves beyond the range of the marksquads... except for Threehalls, who runs along the half-finished battlements in a rage, raining pain upon them unanswered.
Eventually, they reach the open northern gate, and the final battle begins. Only Tamedsabre waits by the guard dogs, ready to fight for them. He enters a martial trance, and inflicts many severe wounds with his sun gold sickle-sword, without receiving any in return. The dogs are ripped apart, but Tamedsabre holds his own long enough for the rest of the melee squads to reach him.
The battle is very one-sided. Illithid drop like flies, and not a single wound is given in return to the soldiers of Baldedgilds.
While that battle rages, the void master zips about the fortifications, keeping the marksdwarves busy. Soon he realizes he is the last illithid standing. He flies out above the melee soldiers and addresses them, black blood crumbling from his wounds like dried shit. "You've won this battle, but you'll soon find it's cost you the war!!"
Fleshring responds "Go back to the abyss that spawned you!"
The void master shakes his head... "Oh no... I dare not go back... horrors far greater than your merciful blades await me if I do." With that, he dives into the crowd of hardened soldiers. He takes many wounds before the captain of The Lashes of Safety runs a spear through his heart. He falls to the ground motionless. The crowd of soldiers gathers around, regarding their fallen enemy. Just as they begin to turn their backs, he lashes out. Wraith catches each of the void master's hands on the point of a dagger and drives them into the ground. The abomination writhes and screams with unholy fury as Fleshring moves in to hack him to pieces, daring not any chance that the creature may live.
Noteworthy Soldiers This Battle
-------------------------------
Scaraban II: 7 Kills/No Wounds
Fleshring: 5 Kills/No Wounds
Glazedluster: 4 Kills/No Wounds
Wraith: 2 Kills/No Wounds
Lancerfair: 1 Kill/Still blistered all over
Total Contaminations: Unknown
Author
Topic: The Tale of Baldedgilds (Read 8467 times)