((Ask and you shall recieve; I swear this is a huge coincidence, not the coming Fun I hinted at.))Inside the Watchroom, 12th Timber, 176 Kivish sighed as she looked out over the battlements. Sentry duty was one of the more boring tasks to be assigned to, but it had to be done. She heard the steady “thwack” of bone bolts lodging into the andesite targets in the room behind her, and shrugged as she yawned. Another dwarf came in, offering her a plate. “Mm, what is it, Asmel?” The other dwarf set his steel crossbow down and took a seat beside her.
“Lamb roast, with wild strawberries, plump helmet, and eh...fisher berries, I think.”
“Smells good, at least.” She tucked into her meal, having forgotten how hungry she was on her long shifts.
“Aramco still hard at work in the back, I see,” Asmel peered out the window while she ate.
“Mmff” came the muffled reply as she gulped down a few mouthfuls of beer from her flask, “yeah, he's in there constantly. Ever since we got the new steel crossbows the mayor ordered, he's been firing away to get used to it. They're much more accurate if you ask me.” She noticed Asmel was staring hard in the distance. “What is it?”
“The caravan, and the liaison.”
“Oh, good! I'll go inform the mayor.”
“They're being followed by goblins.” Asmel lept to his feet. “Go sound the alarm, I'll wait here.” The clatter of a plate hitting the floor and food spilling was her answer for him, and the marksdwarf pulled back the bow on his weapon, loading a bolt. “Captain Aramco, sir! You'd better get in here!”
An hour later, inside the WatchroomRemalle stood in the guardroom with the three squad leaders. He looked out over the battlements; off in the distance of the woods, he could see trolls and goblins coming for them. The caravan was a ways behind the liaison, but it was unclear how far they were from the besieging force. He narrowed his bushy eyebrows, and let out a throaty, rumbling grumble. “It's been far too long, ye green and purple bastards. Missed us, did ye?” He turned to Edem, who was sharpening the Spear of Plissken, the heirloom of the fortress and the weapon of its first great hero. “How many d'ye figure are out there?”
“I count a couple dozen goblins, but there's no telling how many trolls are behind them. Goblins never lay siege without trolls, and that's no ambush force. They're not in hiding.” Edem hadn't been a soldier when she arrived, but she was a fast learner and their best soldier, with over two dozen kills to her name, including a grizzly bear and black bear she killed single-handed, and two Ettins.
“Well, the liaison's close, he'll make it in here alive. Post yer troops in the industry level, just past where the entrance bends. Momuz, take yer axes and post them with Edem, in case it gets messy. Aramco, ye can stay here with the crossbows, pick them off as they arrive; it's a shame we nae finished the ballista bolts earlier, they'll not be used this time.”
Momuz blinked in surprise. “Surely you're not going to abandon the caravan? They could be slaughtered!”
“We've nae the time nor troops to concern ourselves. They have guards, if it comes to that. If not, we have to think of the fortress first, all else comes after. I'll have the city guard further inside, just in case.”
The alarm was sounded, and the city guard rushed the civilians down below, waving their wooden batons to direct the flow of panicked civilians. No invasion was taken lightly, even if goblins weren't the most dangerous of threats. The guard for their part were concerned; they were to hold the line if the soldiers broke, but they wore polished copper armor and carried wooden batons. Plenty for cracking heads and breaking up bar fights, but what hope would they have of stopping an army with their paltry arms? The situation was much better above. The marksdwarves raced to the fortifications that overlooked the entry gate, new steel crossbows in hand and quivers packed with bolts. Stout dwarves raced to the industry hall, their weapons glimmering in the faint light. The entire military had been outfitted with masterfully worked steel arms and armor, and was prepared for war. Though the axedwarves had yet to taste true combat, the dwarves under Edem were veterans who had trained for years. They waited, wondered who would come to the gates: the caravan, or the goblins?
Inside the Watchroom, 14th Timber, 176Aramco and his dwarves watched, waiting to see if the caravan would make it. The liaison was already inside, safe and secured in the mayor's quarters. The caravan was drawing closer, but had two whole squads of goblins bearing down on them. They had guards, so perhaps if it was dire enough they would have enough time to get inside. Nervously they waited, the caravan coming closer while the goblins rushed through the thick trees. Could the caravan even see their danger, through such thick foliage and undergrowth? They were just turning into the tunnel, into sight of the fortifications where the squad could see and yell to them. “Get in! Get in, you damned fools! Get inside!” The shouts and frantic waving spurned them on, the merchants lashing their beats of burden and racing into the safety of the tunnel while the sounds of goblin laughter, wicked and eager for blood could be heard as the goblins raced towards their prey.
The merchants rushed in, but one of the dwarves held back. A fat axedwarf, she stood there defiantly in a mish-mash of metals, bronze and copper plate and chain, a steel shield; she was a crazy riot of armaments, but she would not let the goblins strike her charges, not this day. The marksdwarves shouted for her to get inside to safety, they would stall the goblins, but she did not move as they approached. Heedless of the danger, she charged their ranks, dooming herself to all but certain death as the score of goblin soldiers surrounded her.
The goblin lord grinned a cruel grin and shouted in his fell tongue as his halberd raced towards her flesh, his charge menacing. She was too fast for him though, and ducked away! She swung at him, but he easily dodged her blows, smashing his halberd blade into her foot. She screamed as he twisted it before yanking it free, smashing her in the chin with the pole and knocking her backwards, stunned. The other goblins poured onwards, laughing gleefully as they chopped and hacked, cutting her to pieces as she desperately tried to inflict some sort of damage. An arm, still grasping a shield, flew upwards in the air, free of the mortal bounds of its body.
A scream of agony couldn't even be heard over the wicked, sadistic laughter of the horde. The marksdwarves watched, their expressions as hard as the stone that housed them. The greenskinned filth would pay for this butchery. Bolts rained down on the goblins as they charged into the tunnel, but the screams of those at the front warned the rest of what awaited. The bears roared as the smell of goblin blood wafted into their nostrils, the tunnel sprayed as the glass weaponry finished off the first eager few. It was not enough to slow the horde, though. The caravaneers raced inside, but the last of the caravan were in great danger of being attacked. The soldiers waved them onward; inside, damn it all, hurry it up and get to safety! Edem considered charging, but she knew they could be pincushioned by goblin archers if they met them in the long tunnel. No, the enemy must turn the corner and face them on their terms, then and only then could they ensure victory. They had to draw their enemies through the traps, wounding them and hurting morale, before they could engage. She waited, fighting the urge to rush forward. Her squad watched her, waiting for the command. A strange, horrible sound came to them punctuated by a bear's paw sailing through the air and splattering just past the last caravaneer. Edem winced; the bears were doing their terrible duty. She heard the sound of footsteps, and saw a pair of the marksdwarves rush into the tunnel from the barracks, firing wildly down the entry hall. They had abandoned their post to take the fight to the enemy!
She cursed; so much for tactics. They wouldn't last a minute in leather armor, so she raced forward, intending to help them. The others in her squad followed, as did Momuz and his new recruits. Stones crashed down from the ceiling and glass weapons ripped through the air, filling the hall with green body parts and spraying blue and red blood everywhere. Edem was in her element, racing forward even as the dwarves unloaded bolt after bolt into the oncoming horde. One of them smashed its weapon in her face, but she only glowered past her broken nose, striking down the beast with a spear to the gut. She added two more kills quickly to her list, while the remainder of the marksdwarves poured in, shooting or bashing with their steel crossbows. Even some of the caravan guards, content that their charges were now safely in the depot, rushed forward to join the fray. The battle was raging, the entirety of the siege within the tunnels, soaking it in their blood as they fought. A single goblin had made it through, the only one so far, but he was being ignored as he floundered on the ground, his legs both gone. He screamed and thrashed his stumps, cursing the bearded devils that had done this to him in every way he knew.
One of the caravan guards stepped forward to put him out of his misery, his steel spear poised for the death blow. Edem, meanwhile, was a force possessed. She bashed, smashed, and speared everything that came near her. She was a whirlwind of death and ruin, surrounded by goblins and trolls and untouchable in her steel armor and lightning reflexes. After so much ruin, the few trolls and goblins not yet brutally slain or dying on the floor turned and ran in horror; the dwarves had brutally ruined them, with but a single death of their own. There was no victory here, only slaughter. The dwarves chased them back through the tunnel, not even stopping to laugh as the survivors were forced to flee once more through the traps they had been lucky to survive the first time.
Edem and her dwarves raced past the now-silenced runners, leaping over their severed parts and dashing out into the sun. A single goblin crawled away, using his crossbow to drag himself between dry heaves and retches, soaked in his own vomit and blood. He whimpered in pain as the dwarves surrounded him, meekly trying to flee even then. A few moments passed as they encircled him, followed by a swift and punctuating crunch. Edem wiped the blood from her brow, and looked to her squadmates. “I'll give the mayor the all clear; let's hit the baths”. They grunted in approval, and made their way back inside the tunnel.
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Topic: Guardedrings, 31.24 Community Fortress (Vae Victus) (Read 7068 times)