I just had a run that, when things were role played, actually went fantastically. The plot I was building in my head apparently had the approval of RNGesus. Perhaps it is the Wardruna I have blasting in my eardrums that has gained me favor. Either way, you'll notice the story is probably going to get more detailed as it goes, since that's how it built up in my brains.
So this group of mercenaries accepts every job they can take. Not because they're poor or needy, but because in this world the major houses all managed to not be shitlords, and so I had no qualms whatsoever with working for any house. Things go well for a bit, early vengeance went flawlessly, and the first two jobs, both involving ghouls in graveyards, went fairly well. The company did odd jobs, slowly building to eight men of varying skill.
The first death came while delivering a package for a client. Three groups of bandits had attacked, and they all fell to our firm shield wall, centered by a berserker with a woodcutting axe. We were passing through the woods outside of our destination when a pack of direwolves pounced from the shadows. The berserker was leading the way through the woods, and was caught at the end of a narrow path through trees. He held his ground while the others found ways around, but before the direwolves could be cut down, the berserker had fallen.
Once the package was delivered, the company went about hiring a deserter from a local militia. He wasn't a coward, but had felt useless and expendable, and wanted to actually make a difference. He just so happened to favor a large axe as well. Our next job was a patrol that seemed simple enough.
The undead, feral beasts, even fellow men, these were all things we had faced and killed before. But it was during this patrol that the company was ambushed by a massive Orc raiding party. The shieldwall held against the initial Orc charge, but the extended melee wore out both parties, and we began exchanging man-for-man(Orc). The last two standing of our number managed to hold their own against the Orc raiders, and slaughtered them down to one, who attempted to flee (going from confident the turn before). As he ran, the crossbowman there from the beginning, Alwin, fired a shot square into his back, killing him. I'll note that this man had perfect accuracy many, many times. He was our go-to if something absolutely had to be killed out of reach if possible. Before stepping off of the battlefield, the Deserter hefted a massive spiked chain the Orc Berserker has wielded, and took it as his own.
The last five survivors were: Alwin, the Gluttonous and Superstitious Crossbow Companion; a Tiny, Fainthearted Tailor named Adelmar who was mighty handy with an axe and shield; Wolfram, a Butcher with a Billhook that lost an eye on his first contract with us; and Karl, a Dexterous man who had also been with the company at the start. The deserter, shame I don't have his name, had also survived.
After getting paid and having a drink for our fallen brothers, we recruited a flagellant who happened to be, well, autistic. But he was a good fighter, and a good brother, so the fact that he couldn't tell you left from yellow wound up being irrelevant.
The fortunes of the company rose and fell multiple times, but those five had always managed to get by fairly well. The Autistic Flagellant, Lenny from now on, had lost a finger at one point, but that was about it until yet another Orc raiding party. Lenny got stabbed pretty badly. He survived the injury, but his heart was weakened.
Okay so warning here, this is where I really got into the story being crafted, so there might be some dialog that even comes up.
When people had permanent injuries we tended to let them retire. But Lenny didn't want to leave. He'd seen friends die by the blades of foul creatures, and he was going to have none of it. He was passionate, and so we decided to let him stay. Our next few contracts went well. Then we were sent out on an extended patrol. All of the newer recruits were killed in the two engagements with bandits on the patrol, and Lenny had a broken arm. In the final engagement the Deserter with the Badass Chain, who had a reputation for cleaving through enemy lines like they were tissue, was felled by a lucky crossbow bolt.
The next town we entered had a kennel, so we decided to check it out. Lenny was enamored. He refused to leave without a Wardog of his very own. One of the trainers introduced himself as Grimald and we spoke at length. He told me of the scarring on his hand, and how being attacked by a dog led him to training them in order to conqueror any fears. He was bored of life as a hand at the kennel after having served the local guard in hunting criminals with his dogs, and offered to come along and keep the warhound Lenny was eyeing in check. Perhaps make it useful. We took him, and the pup, in.
Our next contract saw the dog killed by direwolves. Torn to shreds. As were Lenny's emotions. He was crushed, even though it was the first time in ages that we had a fight where no men died. To Lenny, though, the dog was another brother-in-arms. Like I said, very passionate.
More jobs and recruits came and went, but we never got another dog. Lenny was crushed, and we hated to see him so down. If it happened again, we were afraid it'd break his already weak heart. So it was a bit of a surprise when one night while we camped we came across Buddy hunched over in some bushes. He heard some whimpering and, thinking he may have been smothering some poor woman, came around to see what was happening. He was crouched over some poor sickly dog, scars all about it's head and body.
"Can we keep him?"
Well we couldn't really say no. Especially since he told us that it had been following us for a week already, so he'd already bonded with the unfortunate mutt.
A few days later, while we made camp outside of a goblin fortress so Lenny could heal a broken arm, Lenny's dog began to bark incessantly, then charged off into some trees as an arrow struck the ground by the unlit campfire. We'd been ambushed by a group of bandits. The dog tied them up and managed to give the company time to form up and counter-attack. The fight was tough and bloody, but our core members fought the bandits well. As the bandit's line began to falter, one of their marksmen landed a shot square into Lenny's dog. With an ungodly roar Lenny broke formation and pushed his way through the bandit line, rushing the archer. Karl had managed to stop the most heavily armed and armored bandit from flanking the men and engaged him in single combat. But that's what Karl did best. As the most veteran member of the company's front line, Karl had his pick from the armory, and had by this point become an army unto himself, his Boar Spear skewering all who came at him.
Lenny rushed forward, but with his arm broken, was unable to properly defend himself with his shield, and the archer shot him in the shoulder, then again in the leg. Lenny cried out, not in pain, but still out of furious anger, then pressed forward. He swiped his axe, but missed. While the rest of the company cleaned up the bandits left in Lenny's wake, he continued to swing at the archer. The man was evasive, and handy with a dagger. For nearly every strike Lenny missed, the archer responded with a clean strike. Lenny was slouched, knuckles nearly touching the dirt, as the archer went to deliver his final blow. Lenny shot up, grabbed the archer's wrist, and immediately went limp and fell to the ground.
Alwin had maneuvered to get as good a shot off as he could in order to save Lenny, but his sudden movement placed him in the way of the shot.
The archer, seeing now that all his mates were dead, also saw the group of severely pissed off warriors charging straight for him. If not for a tree in the way he would not have escaped. But alas, he had. The first, and only, opponent to do so. Morale was low, but we decided to push forward. Since Lenny's arm was the reason we put off attacking the goblin camp, we decided to head right in.
As we approached the camp, a thick fog began to set in. Grimald and Aldwin, both superstitious men, voiced the idea of letting things be. Surely today was not the day to fight a new enemy. But eventually the desire to occupy our minds with something other than the loss of our unofficial mascot won over, and we pressed on.
The sun was setting over the horizon when a volley of arrows came at us from the fog, finding purchase in Grimald, Adelmar, Wolfram, and a new recruit. The foul goblins had been waiting for us, and we sprung their trap. They were all over us in a matter of moments, poisoned arrows raining down on us as blades bit at our shields. Aldwin was the first to fall, taking a volley of focused fire from the goblin archers. Grimald, though poisoned, had cleaved through two goblins with his flail before being stabbed from two sides. Adelmar and Wolfram soon after succumbed to arrow and blade, leaving Karl alone on the hilltop.
With enemies in all directions, numbers obscured by fog, Karl held his shield tight in front of him. Arrows flew at him from all angles, but only one managed to find an opening, piercing Karl through his leg. With nowhere to go, Karl held his shield up again, and from one knee, shouted, "Come! My brothers wait for me!"
A goblin approached, but was impaled and crumpled to the ground. The goblins let loose another hail of arrows. Two more found their mark. Karl spat out a mouthful of blood, blocked a goblin sword and ventilated the bastard's head. Using his spear to support himself, Karl stood as tall as he could. Arrows continued to fall around him, though none struck him. He watched as a goblin appeared out of the fog before him, flipping a cruel-looking blade between it's warty hands as it walked. Karl did not move as the creature approached and walked behind him. With a sharp kick, Karl was back on his knees. The goblin grabbed Karl by the chin, yanking his head upwards and exposing neck...
The Sons of Odin fell, but they will always be remembered.
Because seriously, most of that actually happened, including me having to stand there as Karl because I was out of fatigue, arrows missing all over the place. It was honestly one of the best losses I've ever had.
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Topic: Battle Brothers - a turn based strategy RPG mix (Read 211159 times)