Trothgard - Hand of the Embol - Chyril 23rd - GT

[Vanadius]

OOC: Beware all that enter here, for this thread is impassible due to nature of the conflict. Tread carefully!


Cold and silent, the night reigned over the huddled settlement of Rimmerhold. The warrior women had posted a heavy guard around the town. Bright torches and glints of crystal and steel shone against the towering gloom. Routine patrols had been doubled as the Kona commanded all who lived within sight to be on alert for any sign of an attack. Rimmerhold had no walls to defend her. Her only armor and shield were the stalwart warriors that walked her snow swept streets and kept vigilant in the night. These hardy souls held their spears close, and their lanterns high for any sign of attack from their most hated enemy and the warrior women were tense and cautious as they watched and waited.

From the northeast they came on snowshoes made from skins and reeds. They had traversed most of the distance from the Crystal Fortress on sleds, but now crept up on the Kona and her people on foot. They were not a large force, perhaps no more than a hundred or so, but with their skill and fierce determination, and if their surprise attack was successful, then they would only need half that number to complete their mission on this night.

The Embol, a fiery and passionate man of the North named Skaalyr led the men towards the settlement of Rimmerhold with a feverish gleam in his eye. The fire that burned within him was one of pure hatred and malice for those living in that small town. He had been a foundling, and decades ago in his youngling yahren, he grew to love them. He grew to worship them. He grew to revere them. But he was not of them, and they had spurned him. They had ostracized and shunned him with their traditions and their customs that came from their precious and sacred Ice Queen and when the day finally came when they banished him, he swore his hand would bring about their downfall.

As they approached Rimmerhold, he put a hand up to stop their near silent approach. He silently signaled for all to come to him and as they gathered around, he reached to his pack and pulled forth a stuffed bag. He ripped open the drawstrings and began to pass out the crystals that the shaper Hamar had worked diligently on. Each had a thong so it could be worn about the neck, and each was inscribed with the absorbing rune. A simple but effective piece of carving that would absorb any magic brought against it, using that energy to make itself stronger. When each of the Embol's warriors had one, he threw the bag aside and put the last crystal, his own, about his neck. This negated his own powerful magic, but tonight was about blood, not power. If necessary, he would cast it off and give the women a full taste of the power he wielded, but he inwardly hoped it would never come to that.

Skaali sniffed the night air and smiled a feral, wolf-like grin. His men were ready. He was ready. All was ready. As the high moon shone down from above, he signaled to begin the attack.

[Hamar so`Bergliin]

Hamar slipped his handiwork about his neck. One of my pieces. One of my better pieces at that. That's a comfort. Hamar gripped his war hammer tightly twisting his hands on the grip. They never seemed to find a comfortable spot. Hamar had faith in his master Skaalyr and in the mighty warriors all around him. He even had faith in his runes and felt pride in knowing his powers would be as responsible for their victory as the warrior's strength.

None of that changed the fact that this was Hamar's first real battle and he was scared. He had little time to dwell on failing his fellows or on the pain of his impending death. Skaalyr gave the signal and his hands finally found their place on his hammer. His orders were simple. Stay next to his master and smash all that got in their way.

[Vanadius]

Churning legs made tiny explosions in the snow as they men of Freehold descended upon the settlement of Rimmerhold. In a single, fluid motion they made their way down the slope, some even abandoned their snowshoes and slid on the ice and snow. Like the tentacles of some monstrous and deadly sea beast, they began to spread out in small groups as they snaked towards the town. The Embol himself led them, a sharp long knife in one hand, an axe of black, bitter steel in the other. Skaali and his men crashed headlong into bloody fighting, vying for ultimate control of the north...

~~~

The Kona tossed and turned in restless sleep as the night wore on. Her bodyguards stood vigilant and ready for any signs of assassination as they prowled the inner chambers of the Temple.

Outside there was the hint of a chill breeze as Thaara da'Waelkyrige made her last rounds before retiring. The warrior woman moved with the power and grace of a snow leopard as she checked their defenses, their lines, and most importantly, their mindset. She was confident that the Embol had not moved from his location. The intervening miles from his Crystal fortress in Grimkell and Rimmerhold was laced with spies and scouts to track his movements. None had reported back that they had seen any movement whatsoever. It was quiet as a tomb out there. Or so she thought until she heard the first cries of alarm.

~~~

Hrut was a cunning, confident warrior. He spent many days and nights off training in the harsh climate of Trothgard to harden his body and mind. Off in the hinterlands of the north he honed his will to a razor's edge. When he sparred against the other men of Freehold, he never lost. He faced challenge after challenge and always came out victorious. He was the most skilled warrior that Skaali had.

He had been specifically chosen for a special mission on this most special of nights. The Embol had hand picked him to carry out the highest honor and the most difficult mission of all. To kill the Kona. As the others began their assault on the warrior women of Rimmerhold, Hrut skulked stealthily along behind, allowing the enraged battle cries to mask his steps and the darkness and wild shadows to hide his movements. A lone guard stood at the entrance to the Temple, he swept her up in a sudden rush and slit her throat in nearly a single, fluid movement. He pulled her into the shadows and made his way inside the temple and closer to his prey.

[Hamar so`Bergliin]

Hamar was no great warrior like Hrut. Hamar's clumsy steps could only draw attention to himself and those with them. Ironicly, it was for that reason that Hamar and his warriors followed Hrut into the temple. Hamar was the diversion. While he and his warriors loudly rampage and ransack the Temple, Hrut would more easily be able to slip past the Kona's defenders.

Hamar also had a second task this night. The absorbing runes might protect them from direct magical assault but it would not take the Wise Ones long to work their will on the snow and ice as weapons against them. The Wise Ones within the Temple must fall and their crystal magics taken to bolster the Embol's forces. Hamar waited long enough for Hrut to take to the shadows then let loose a wild war cry as he led his troops into the Temple.

[Vanadius]

Before the Shaper led them into the Temple there were a few who exchanged confused looks as he broke away from the main group. They had thought to ransack the town, and kill as many as possible in their revolution, but when Hamar headed towards the Temple, a cry went up from them as they shouted their bloodlust. Clearly the Shaper wanted Hrut's glory for himself, and he was bold enough to take it.

As they charged into the Temple, they were met with strong resistance from Thaara and her warriors. A sudden clash of weapons and cries of alarm and battle rose in a wave of noise. Drums were sounded and bells were heard ringing. The entire Temple was awash in the furious struggle for control.

In the main foyer, the clash of steel rang through the hall. Blood was on the smooth marble floor, making for treacherous footing and several slipped and fell, only to continue slashing at one another on the ground. Thaara herself slew two in the initial onslaught, and unwounded and undaunted, she fell back to a more prominent position in front of the chamber doors that led within. She batted away a thrown spear and pointed for her warriors to form a protective ring.

A warrior thrust her spear at Hamar. She was young, no older than he was, but the look in her eyes spoke of her devotion to the Queen and the Kona.

The battle for the reign of Trothgard had begun.

~~~

Hrut watched as the group that was supposed to into the town for slaughter and pillage turn and rush the Temple behind him. He gritted his teeth in anger and frustration as the Shaper and his men charged, and he found an alcove to hide in as they did so.

No you fools! They will increase their protection of her! They will spirit her away and her tyranny will live! Damn you Hamar! What are you doing?

His mind shouted at them to stop, but as they clashed with the women in the hall, he searched for another alternative.

Thaara is a cunning warrior and will not move her unless absolutely necessary. Let the Shaper try for her. If he gets close, they'll panic and try to move her. Then I'll have my chance...

Hrut huddled in the darkness of his alcove and watched and waited. Carefully he studied Hamar's tactics and ability. If the Shaper won the hall, he might well push deep into the Temple. If he failed here, it would be a score of good men cut down like lambs to the slaughter.

[Hamar so`Bergliin]

Hamar shifted the grip on his hammer to have one hand at the very end and his strong right choked up on the haft near the head. With a practiced move, he swung his hammer to the side to beat her spear away with the haft, then punched forward with the head of his hammer with the intention of crushing her chest. The pride and determination in his eyes matched hers.

"Don't let them form the ring!" Hamar called out and gestured towards the right where their line was still forming. Punching a hole through there would allow them to double team and surround those at the gap. Hamar struggled to drop his first opponent swiftly and follow his own command.

[Vanadius]

Fate and destiny were funny and fickle things. The disciplined warriors followed Thaara's commands instantly and effectively as they formed their protective barrier around the main Temple doors.

The leader of the women threw a knife that crashed into a man standing next to Hamar. The warrior man from Freehold went down with an awful, keening wail, but as his spear fell from his hand, it clattered against Hamar's foe, taking her attention for a heartbeat and allowing his strike to hit her full in the chest and barrel her over. She slipped on the slick, bloody surface, and fell into another warrior, that also fell and she was quickly finished off by one of Hamar's compatriots by a vicious thrust of a spear.

Much as Hamar had envisioned, this small hole allowed several men to charge into their midst heavily, and the protective ring collapsed in the span of a few flickers as the women tried to fall back to shield themselves from further onslaught. The women retreated a half dozen paces, but the uncertain footing and zealous cries of the attackers totally disrupted their attempts to quickly reform, and cost them dearly. Thrown spears and sharp knives began to find their marks, leaving the women's numbers dwindling, and the emboldened the Freeholders to refresh and renew their brutal assault.

Thaara da'Waelkyrige was an elite warrior, well trained, very experienced, and proud. She was a crafty and cunning warrior, and even now she knew that hope was lost for holding the doors. She pulled another of her warriors back and tried to slam the doors shut behind her. There were too many of her enemies. They were too close. The doors never closed and the women retreated further into the main Temple. The outer hall belonged to the Embol now.

A sudden violet glow from the amulets that the men wore flared to life. There was a crackle of energy in the chaotic air, but the men stood unhurt or unaffected by whatever magic had been thrown at them. Hamar the Shaper's runes held firm and fulfilled their purpose. Surprised and defeated shouts were heard from the inner sanctum and intermingled with the cries of the wounded and dying.


OOC: The lucky card is now in play and is no longer available for you to use. I just hope you used it at the right time and not too soon!

[Guest]

Edmond had been one of the last to enter the battle. He had been assigned to this Shaper's band, and he reluctantly agreed. His bow in his hand, arrows flying from it as he moved up the back. He was attacking any enemy he saw, and he was glad to see that he was helping.

As his troupe moved forward, the Kona's guards retreated, before they abandoned the hall in total. Edmond, giving a sigh of relief, moved over the bodies left behind, forging for any arrows that were still usable, and any other useful items.

That was, until he heard screams echoe from the inner chamber, and a bright purple light glare from the amulet he was given, forcing Edmond to shield his eyes with his arm. "What magic is this?!?" He gasped as he listened intently to the inner chamber. He could here gasps and shouts of pain. And Edmond cringed. What had he gotten into?

(((Hope that's right.)))

[Vanadius]

OOC: Given Hamar has bigger issues in RL, I thought I'd move this a little forward and let him catch up when he can.

One of the Shaper's men near to Edmond breathed heavily in wonder.

"The Witches spells cannot harm us!" The man roared his approval as Edmond went searching among the dead for arrows that were still usable.

A triumphant cheer went up from the men in the hall.

~~~

Amidst the carnage and chaos, Hrut crept stealthily as he went deeper into the great belly of the Temple. Inside the inner chamber was a horrifying sight. The men of Freehold were slaughtering the women priestesses and ruthlessly cutting them down like human grass. Some of the women cried out for mercy, but were given no quarter. Some fought on futilely in silence, with candlesticks, small knives, and other makeshift weapons. One even wielded a curved piece of a stag's antler.

Hrut scanned the faces for his target, and caught a glimpse of the Kona as Thaara imposed herself between the attackers and the endangered ruler of the North.

Like a cunning snow leopard, he went to ground as he scrambled along the floor with his elbows and knees, using the descending layers of stone seats and pews as cover. He crept along the cold stone floor until at last he reached the lowest level, where the women were now standing back to back, surrounded, and making their final stand.

The warrior watched and waited as Hamar's men began to press their attack. He watched the feet of the women shuffle and dance as they tried to defend themselves, and the instant he saw his opening, he pounced.

~~~

She was frightened. For many yahren she had others brought before her and they trembled in fear. She had seen brave men piss themselves as they stood to face her wrath. She had seen the strong buckle and wilt as she carried out her judgments against them. She had ruled the North in the name of the Queen for countless days, secure in her power and like iron in her resolve, and now she huddled like a frightened child, surrounded by a handful of her maiden warriors, even fewer of her priestesses, and felt her own fear turn her bowels to water as she watched her hands shake.

Where are you my Queen? Have you forsaken me? I call upon you to strike these enemies and usurpers down! I call upon you to tear apart their foul black hearts and freeze their black blood in their limbs! I call upon you in the name of the ancient bonds and implore you to defend us!

~~~

Out in the cold night, away from the shouts and the fighting, far beyond the call of death and the smell of blood, a white wolf howled.

[Guest]

Edmond did not partake in the men's cheers. Indeed, the only thing on his mind was finishing the job. Moving with the group towards the remaining resistance, he halted, hiding in the crowd, a dreadful arrow notched in his bow. It was meant for the Kona, who was barely visible from behind the circle of woman.

Of course, he could not waste the arrow now. He needed a clear shot. The only way that would happen is to thin the barrier between them. He knew he was not meant to kill the Kona, but if Hrut failed, the job would still need finishing.

Putting the arrow away, he drew his sword and advanced with the group, who was pressing into the enemy. Indeed, it was not long until he began the attack, hacking at the woman with his blade. He could not understand it. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying this slaughter. It disturbed him.

[Vanadius]

OOC: Edmond. Please check your PMs before we continue.

[Hamar so`Bergliin]

OOC: Apologies for my long absence.

Hamar fought at the forefront of his warriors bringing his crushing hammer to bear time and time again against the spears and weak wills of Old Ones suddenly bereft of their magic. Yet for that his forces might expect so the Kona was not his target. It was the Old Ones themselves, the council of priestesses that first set him on this path, the ones that used him as bait to trap the Embol.

Thus when the opportunity presented itself it wasn't to the Kona's chambers that he led his troops. He wanted to clear out the temple of as many of the Wise Ones as his hammer could crush and he led them down to the sleeping quarters of the temple to ferret out those still hiding.

[Vanadius]

The ruthless slaughter made the temple's floors red and slick with the blood of the fallen. The men hacked and the women fell. Cries for mercy went unheard and cries of the dying went ignored.

A spear caught Thaara in the shoulder and sent her spinning to the ground. If she was dead no one cared as the battle raged on.

Hamar found himself standing over Maha, the Priestess that once tested him. Her throat and chest were a bloody ruin and her eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling. Her tests were done, and her trials now forever ended. She had once commanded this Hall with her wisdom and her words. Now she was silent and would speak no more.

~~~

Hrut launched himself at the Kona and his sharp blade bit deep into her flesh. The dirk sunk deep into her back, piercing flesh and vital organs and she found herself unable to scream. He turned her to face him, pivoting her around so she could look deep into his eyes.

"Your reign is ended." He whispered fiercely to her. They were words for just the two of them, as the din of the hall and the screams raged on all around them.

She clawed at his eyes defiantly, but her lifeblood was spilling onto the marble at her feet, and the attempts were feeble at best. He brought the dirk up to her face and let her look at the bloody edges. Without another her word, he slashed her throat so violently that he nearly decapitated her in the process.

Hrut reached down and pulled the Kona's head up by the hair and cut the gold bead that signified her at the leader of the north. Without care, he let the dead leader's head and drop against the hard floor like a discarded doll. All the women were dead. All the Priestesses were dead. Death hung in the great chamber like a pall.

The temple fell silent. Victory for the men of Freehold was now certain. The Kona and her Council lay dead. The frozen shores of Trothgard would never be the same.


OOC: This thread is now passable again.

[Hamar so`Bergliin]

Hamar knelt down by the body of the fallen priestess and closed her eyes. A last kindness for someone he once thought a friend. Hamar looked about the ruined temple all crimson and ivory and smiled grimly. "A good start." He nodded in satisfaction. "But destroying is easy. What now will we build?" He asked the fallen priestess. "A monument longer lasting than yours."

Hamar swung his hammer up onto his shoulder and headed back out into the city. There was good news to spread and loot to be had. More though, Hamar wanted a little distance from death for a while.

[Vanadius]

~Fin.

Locked & skilled.