Bastion of Light: Making of the Tactician

[sweetlikesplenda]

Part I: The Journey

A harsh wind blew along the battlements of the smoldering Keep. The breeze whipping the now tattered white cloak with the familiar red colored knight chess piece about the bloodied and battered armor of the figure. Vivid ocean blue eyes scanned the battlefield for any additional enemy movement. But, none would come. Carrion birds circled the land now covered with the bodies of human defenders, giants, woodland animals, and goblinoid attackers alike. For all their differences, a realization of how similar we all are in death, came to Aaron. For a moment he scanned the field, watching the men and women of the detail selected to remove the deceased for proper burial or the pyre. Those valiant defenders that paid the ultimate price for their families and homes were being staged for return to their loved ones for burial; the green skinned invaders where heaped into a pile to be fed to the fire.

Turning his attention to the marshaling yard, the newly promoted Sergeant Higgins, after the death of his successor, called out the roll for the remnant of soldiers that had survived the assault. Emerging from the tree line outside the town was line after line of Cormyrian foot soldiers, led by a column of Purple Dragon Knights.

He uttered a soft prayer, placing a red colored knight chess piece that hung from a necklace to his lips, as he thought back to the bravery and sacrifice of those under his leadership. This calling seemed to have come about by happenstance; some may say a game of chance by Tymora, others may believe it fate from the Lady of the Lanceboard.

A soft orange light breached the horizon with the new dawn. Its warmth a true blessing after the days and nights of hellish cold and death, heralding a fresh day.

Aaron stole a glimpse south towards Baldur’s Gate, and his home, before watching the approach of a column of Purple Dragon Knights riding to relieve the weary and beaten soldiers of the Keep.

Two week earlier…

An early spring morning, inside the stable yard in the Palace District of Baldur’s Gate.

“I am prepared to leave whenever you are.” Came Aaron’s reply to Sir Philip Highthorne, Aaron's long time mentor of history, tactics, and swordplay. The young man’s excitement was evident over the opportunity to leave the city for a time and travel with his mentor; to meet with some of Sir Highthorne’s old adventuring companions. The young man was eager to hear the tales and meet the men and women he had heard so much of.

Sir Philip Highthorne was an old campaigner. His short silver hair and multitude of scars about his body were signs of a long life spent soldiering and adventuring. Sir Highthorne was an old friend of Aaron’s father, Marcus Lyonaler. The two had traveled together often on adventures in their youth. Philip was serving now as a knight in the Order of the Steel Fangs in the temple of Tempus.

Philip cracked a smile and playfully took a swipe at the side of Aaron’s head, one he ducked away from expectantly. Indicated the little luggage Aaron had packed, Sir Highthorne jokingly stated, “I am glad I do not have to remind you to pack light.”

“We should not be gone overly long, and I do not wish to burden, Rook.” The seventeen year old boy replied, gently patting his war horse, Silver Rook. The stallion was named after one of his favorite chess pieces as well as its great mane and coat that gleamed a bright silver color in the light. The Elven bred War Steed had grown along with Aaron, a present for his 14th birthday. Rook had proven to be a brave and well trained steed, rushing when called with a particular whistle, or when charging during drills with deft and precise movements that had many admiring the silver maned creature.

With another fatherly smile, Sir Philip Highthorne turned and lead his own steed towards him, a brown and sturdy war trained horse. “Let us be away, then. We have days of pressed riding just to reach Gray Oaks in time. There we will have several days of warm beds and hunting with Skye until we are off once again towards Arabel.”

“I am eager to meet them. The Huntress Skye and Sven 'The Hand'…” Aaron began ticking off the names of Sir Philip’s old adventuring companions. “I will finally get to find out how true your own accounts of your exploits are.” Aaron finished with a teasing tone.

“Watch that lip, boy.” Philip grinned back at the young man, as he placed his left boot in the stirrup, sliding his right leg over the saddle of his steed, with practiced ease. “You will soon have confirmation of my tales. And you will have many of your own to tell, one day.” Taking the reins and guiding his mount to face Aaron, he offered with a hint of fatherly advice. “For better or worse, at the rate you wish to go, and your potential, you will have many adventures you never even asked for or could even imagine.” Glancing over his shoulder as he cantered his steed towards the road, Philip gestured with his head, “Come along then. We have a great ways to go.” The older Knight positioned himself in the road leading towards the gate out of the Palace District of the city of Baldur’s Gate, awaiting his young ward.

The journey was quiet and calm with the duo only encountering merchant caravans or small groups of travelers along the way. One warm spring evening, about a two days travel before grey oaks, the two travelers dismounted and walked their mounts towards the stabling yard of a wayside Inn. A stable boy rushed out to greet the guests, taking the reins from the two. Sir Highthorne issued a few quick instructions on how to care for the horses, as he handed the reigns over, along with a silver piece. The boy quickly pocketed the silver, so that his master would not notice the large tip, and took the two horses around to the stable to be dressed down for the night.

A large sign had been nailed over the door displaying a brightly painted exotic bird often associated with tropical environs. The bird’s head hung low, as if napping. Below the sign was written “The Sleeping Parrot”. Leaning over to Aaron, Sir Highthorne whispered as they entered, “The owner is an ex-sailor. He married his wife, then later moved them to be closer to her family.” With a knowing nod to Aaron, “There are few things sadder than a land-locked sailor. He named the inn to honor his past life.”

Tilting his head slightly to read the sagging sign as they approached the door. “Do you know the owner well?” Aaron asked.

“Not personally, no. But, I have stayed here on occasion as I pass though. Jolly man. But, a bit of a gossip. Which can be good and bad. Remember that.” The older knight offered while tapping a finger to his head.

As he passed the portal into the inn, Aaron paused to take in the room and its habitants. The common room was largely empty, devoid of the pipe smoke, rowdy talk, and bar fights typical of such a wayside inn. Only a few of the many tables were occupied by several men each, all huddled close, either sitting quietly babying their drink or whispering among each other. The patrons wore the clothing of hunters and farmers, and all turned to watch the two unfamiliar armored men suspiciously, as they entered the inn.

A broad, barrel chested man, with a parrot on his right shoulder, moved from behind the bar counter to approach the two new comers, wiping his hands on his apron, he extended his right to both. “Name’s Charles. But, most call me Charley.” The parrot moved from the man’s right to left shoulder, as Aaron and Sir Highthorne accepted the offered hand. “You boys picked a bad time to visit The Sleeping Parrot. I’ll be closing up shop shortly, for the first time since I opened her doors, and making for Suzail or Arabel.”

Aaron tilted his head and Philip inquired “Closing? Is something amiss?”

“You boys aren’t from ‘round here, are you?” The two men shook their heads. “Group ah shady druids from the woods 'ave been stirring up the goblin and orc tribes holed up in the foothills ah the Stormhorns, as well as unleashin’ wild beasts on travelers. Even got a band ah bugbears and a giant or two with them, if there’s any truth to the talk. Word is they’re gathering to attack Gray Oaks. So fars, only been a few skirmishes and outlying houses been burned down. Our local ranger went out to investigate, he never returned. Word is he is dead by the hands ah the greenskins. Best I can hope for now is that the green bastards avoid the Parrot. Maybe when I get back, when this is over, it will still be standin’.” His tone lifted from its lowered gossipy whisper, loud enough for the other patrons to hear, “Best to mind yourself while you’re in the area. Most folk around here ‘re weary of strangers, with all the activity.” He said as he glanced over his shoulder at the other patrons.

“Still, you seem rather friendly enough.” Returned Sir Highthorne, quietly again.

“That’s my job.” The old sailor added, with a wink.

“Why would these druids wish to attack the settlement? And why work with goblins? I would assume they would be at odds with them as much as any.” Offered Aaron.

Charley’s voice lowered again briefly. “Something about a slight to the lands and something else about the area once belonging to the woods. That’s the talk, at least. Could be due to deforestation going on. The Baron up in Grey Oaks is expandin’ the town. The fool is trying to get notice and recognition from his Lord. Hoping to set up a name for himself. The man cleared an ancient part of the forest out to build himself a hunting lodge and use the some of the lumber to increase the size of the town.” Clearing his throat quickly and lifting his voice in a professional manner he asked. “Now, gentlemen, can I set you up for the night?”

Later that night, Aaron sat on his sleeping pallet in the rented room, staring out the window towards the direction of the town of Gray Oaks, which stood off in the distance the better part of a day’s ride away. Turning to his mentor “What do you think of this goblin army?”

“Disturbed. Goblins and Orcs in this area aren’t the brightest, but they know the value of a deal, when offered one. I am not certain what the druids have offered them to join their army, but be certain, they are paying a high price. They must see more value to destroying the settlements around Gray Oaks and Stagsteads, then simply reclaiming it for nature. There must be more to this.”

Aaron nodded to this logic. “But, what?” Pausing for a moment, he continued. “I am certain we will discover the answer when we arrive in Gray Oaks. Perhaps Skye will know more?”

Sir Highthorne looked to his ward and nodded once. Glancing out the window, once more, Aaron rolled on to his side and was soon asleep.

The ride from the inn that morning had been uneventful. The two horsemen plodded along at a steady pace, until wisps of smoke were seen above the trees, blown about by a gentle breeze. Spurring on their mounts, the two soon emerged from a small thicket to a grizzly scene. The remains of a house smoldered a short distance ahead in a clearing. By the sight it was apparent that the attack on the small homestead had occurred sometime in the previous evening. The two glanced to each other, dismounted and slowly moved towards the wreckage, weapons freed from their sheaths.

Two of the walls of the one room house had completely burned down and lay charred on the ground, all within the house was either destroyed before the fire or suffered in the blaze. Goblin and orc arrows protruded from the ground along with several broken and trampled daggers and short swords. As the two made their way around the opposite side of the house, Aaron began “I hope the inhabitants made it out in ti…” His words choked back in his throat as he gagged. Two charred bodies lay on the burnt ground, three others hung from a large tree just outside of where the blaze had been, the bodies filled with arrows. A small family had inhabited the home. Three adults and two children were among the dead.

Sir Highthorne placed his hand on Aaron’s shoulder, as the young man turned his eyes away from the sight. “Goblins and orcs are well known for their savagery and cruelty.” Unlike his ward, Philip had a great deal experience seeing wonton death and destruction in his time as a knight.

Aaron just nodded, slowly turning back from the sight. “I know.” He said softly.

The remainder of the ride to Gray Oaks was somber. Aaron had not spoken as the bodies were retrieved from the tree and buried, along with the two charred bodies.

The boy’s right hand resting on his thigh, slowly clenching tightly in to a fist.

[sweetlikesplenda]

Part II: The Hunt Is On

The stone walled keep of Gray Oaks was nothing compared to the splendor or size of the walls around Baldur’s Gate, but it was what protected the small town from a direct attack. Several crossbowmen walked along the battlements wearing tabard and the livery of House Silverhorn, keeping an eye on those that entered the town. Sir Highthorne and Aaron reined in as they approached the gate to enter the town.

All seemed well in the small forest town. Young boys chased young girls in the streets, women hurried to and from the modest market section, a few merchants came in and out of the gates with goods, and several hunters returned to Gray Oaks carrying a stag and several rabbits they had caught. It was as if the people either ignored what was occurring to the outlying homesteads or they were blissfully ignorant.

The township was under the protection of Earl Forlgar Silverhorn of House Silverhorn, its day to day operations handled by the second cousin of the Earl, Baron Buford Silverhorn. The Baron was a distant man who preferred to spend his time hunting and wenching. Having little access to authoritative figures, the people were hardy and looked out for one another.

The town, little more than a hamlet, was made up of about thirty building, surrounded by a stone wall and a minor keep. Only a small contingent of the Earl’s men-at-arms were given to the Baron and the post of Grey Oaks, with no Purple Dragon Knights present at all, unless the Earl himself visited. The people were largely farmers, loggers, and hunters, with the occasional merchant lodged within the town on their trade routes. One Inn stood near the center of the town, a mill was built near the north gate, a smithy’s shop butted up against the Keep’s wall next to the stabling yard, while the remaining buildings were dedicated to those that lived in Grey Oaks.

The sight of two armored men riding in to town caused all that passed them to stop and watch. Aaron and Sir Highthorne made their way to the inn that also served as the town’s tavern to send a runner with word of their arrival to Philip’s friend, Skye, the Huntress, who lived a half a day’s trek from town for most, less for a hardy message runner.

With little to do in the town, the two men sat in the Inn listening to the gossip whispered by the patrons. The talk of the strange happenings and the attacks on outlining farmsteads ranged from wolf packs driven mad from disease, to wild druids chanting up trouble over the deforestation, to goblins and orcs massing to take back the forests from man, to even the gods themselves frowning upon the land. One thing that was agreed upon, was that, whatever was happening, would soon happen to Grey Oaks and the town would likely not stand, especially while under the rule of Baron Silverhorn.

Few citizens of Grey Oaks seemed to have much confidence in the competence of the Baron. While he was an educated man, he was also one that placed luxuries and appearance above all else. Entertainment always came before actual pressing business of the people. The Baron, while schooled in warfare and skilled with a blade, felt himself above any other in strategy and power.

Late in the evening a page from the keep entered the tavern portion of the inn. The boy, barely fourteen summers, but already nearly the size of a full grown man, looked over the tops of the heads of the patrons who packed the bar area each night after a long days labor, quickly spotted Sir Philip and Aaron and made his way over to their table.

Bowing formally to a Knight, the page said politely and with an air of one who had practiced what he had been exactly instructed to say, “His lordship, Baron Silverhorn, Second Cousin of Earl Forlgar Silverhorn, sworn protector of Grey Oaks, Honorary Purple Knight, requests the presence of Sir Philip Highthorne and his young friend on a hunting trip this following mid-morning.” Coming up from his bow, the page waited for an answer.

Sir Philip considered for a brief moment, rubbing his cheek, then looked from Aaron to the page. “Tell the Baron that I, and Aaron, will accompany him on his hunting trip.” The runner sent to Skye’s manor in the woods should have already returned with word back from the Huntress, which worried the Knight, but there was little more to do then wait to ensure Skye was home, before making for her estate.

With courtly grace, which Aaron assumed meant this page was well-born and likely related to the major house of Silverhorn of Comyr, and had received some formal training, the page bowed again and hurried out the door.

“The Baron is not one that I would like to associate with, and one I would prefer not to subjugate you to. But, formalities must be maintained and we do not wish the ire of this man.” Sir Highthorne allowed one of his rare frowns. "He has some influence, and he will use it, if he feels slighted.”

The next day would be interesting, from what the patrons in the tavern rumored to each other. The Baron was not overly liked, and Aaron wanted to see for why himself.

The morning came quickly, Aaron thought, as he rose sleepily from his bed. The two men readied themselves and made their way towards the Keep. Along their way to the Keep, Sir Highthorne placed his hand on Aaron’s chest to stop him. “Remember, The Baron is a vain man. This is his hunt and he will be the first to drop a mark. Should he not be, there will be hell to pay.” Aaron just nodded to this. Philip removed his hand and they continued on.

The Baron sat on a tan colored horse, with several men-at-arms surrounding him, two armed with short bows and hunting knives, three with short swords and spears strapped to their backs awaiting the arrival of the two men. Baron Silverhorn dismounted and moved towards Aaron and Philip, Sir Philip offering a respectful bow, which Aaron quickly mimicked.

Baron Buford was dressed in the attire of a court dandy, one of privilege and pomp. Ah his hip was a rapier of exquisite make. Though, Aaron could easily tell it was merely for look, as the pommel and grip had nearly no signs of wear. He handed to one of his men-at-arms his short bow, designed to be fired from the back of a horse, then returned a very quick bow of his head to the two as several servants came out of the Keep, men and women that would collect the Baron’s hunt and prepare it for transport back to the Keep.

“You do Gray Oaks grace with your visit, Sir Highthorne, as you grace me today on this hunt.” The Baron gushed, his tone and demeanor one that showed obvious signs of one that tried to use charm and his connections to the House Silverhorn to progress his standing more so, than one who genuinely believe what he said.

“And you honor us with your invitation, Baron.” Replied Philip. If he was not completely genuine in his response, the old Knight did not show it in any way.

“Shall we be off then?” Asked Baron Buford with an exaggerated wave of his hand. “The morning is late, and the beasts stir within the forests.” The Baron mounted his horse again with the skill and grace of one whom was taught by some of the most skilled. “Will you be requiring mounts?”

With a shake of his head, Philip replied. “Thank you, Baron, but no. Our mounts are being delivered now.” Turning to look over his shoulder, a stable hand from the inn was walking the two men’s horses up to them at the moment.

The group made their way out of the town, the seven riders, followed by several servants on foot. As the day waned on, Aaron began to fear he would never wish to become a noblemen, if hunts were a typical social call, and were as boring as this one was. The Baron tried to regale them constantly of past hunts and the many beasts he had felled. Sir Phillip was respectfully listening and adding to the conversation when necessary. But, Aaron was dreading the whole event. A strange thought kept creeping into his mind, “What had happened to the runner sent to give word to Skye?”

The hounds that lead the hunters sniffed along the ground and soon took up the chase. The Baron turned to the group with a grin and spurned his mount with a wave to follow after. With thoughts that something could be hunted and this event end soon, Aaron spurred Rook on to follow. The woods were dense here and it was hard going for the horses, but Rook found his way through bush and branch. Suddenly the hunting party was in a small clearing, facing a massive boar. The creature was nearly the size of the hunting party’s mounts and it was standing over the body of a man.

The boar suddenly made for the tree line at tremendous speed for such a large beast. The Baron, having little thought for anything more than hunting prey, broke off from the group and made chase. Aaron slowed Rook to look at the body that lie, partially devoured, to discover it was the same runner from the inn that been hired to send word to Skye. The four guards made quickly to follow the Baron, as did Aaron and Philip. As they reached the tree line, they heard a strangled yell, and dug in to their mounts to catch up.

Another small clearing was only a short distance in, and as the mounted group broke through the tree line they had to reign in hard, as a wall of vines was amassing at head level that threatened to knock them all from their horses.

The Baron was already dismounted, with his sword drawn, trying to fend off several wolves that surrounded him in a semi-circle. The Boar they had seen, stood snarling next to a hooded man who, with hands outstretched and chanting some mystic language, seemed to be controlling the wolves, the vines, and the boar had lead them in to a trap. The two bowmen were quick to let fly arrows, and two wolves were dropped. The spearmen were able to get their weapons free and struggled to keep more wolves at bay, as they poured in to the clearing.

Aaron and Philip tried to make use of their long swords, in the compact area, but could do little more than slay a wolf and try to keep vines and the rest of the wolves from biting at the horse’s legs. The vines were slowly moving to grasp the men-at-arms, one of the swordsmen having been completely wrapped in vines was slowly having the life squeezed out of him.

“Shoot for the robbed man!” yelled Aaron over the sounds of battle and screams from the crushed man. An arrow flew true, puncturing the robed man through the chest, as the air blew out of his lungs. With the strange chanting from the robed man gone, the vines ceased moving and the wolves and boar receded back in to the forest. The Baron had several lacerations from claw and tooth, as did a few of the men-at-arms, one having died in the embrace of the vines.

“Back to the Keep! Now!” Bellowed the Sergeant of the Men-at-arms, as he helped the Baron back to his mount. The group made their way back the way they had come, only to find the first clearing now occupied by orcs on all sides.

Black fletched arrows ripped through the air, taking one of the bow wielding men-at-arms by surprise, instantly killing him. Aaron took a glancing blow to his chest, knocking him from his saddle. Another man-at-arm’s horse was brought down, but he skillfully rolled away from the falling beast.

Aaron’s vision swam a moment as he recovered from the fall. He drew his sword again and raised his shield. To his right the Baron lay with three arrows protruding through his chest, his eyes lulled up in his head. Time seemed to slow, and he watched arrows wiz by, while a half dozen orcs moved in with axes for the kill.

His hearing seemed to echo and it was hard to focus, after his fall from the saddle, but without even knowing, Aaron was shouting orders. He pushed the man-at-arms that had lost his mount towards Rook. “Go! The Baron is fallen, get everyone back to town and prepare the militia!”

With sword drawn Aaron advanced towards the approaching orcs. Over his shoulder Sir Philip called “To me, Aaron! We must hurry!” But, something spurred Aaron on. He could not stop from his course. “Go, save those you can.” His voice almost quiet among the battle cries of the orcs. He turned back to his mentor and friend. “The people must know.”

Turning back as the nearest orc was steps away, Aaron raised his sword to block the Orc’s blow, glancing it to his right, and he then drew his sword to his left, and slashed back to the right and across the creature’s knee. It howled in pain, and tried to ram its shoulder in to Aaron’s torso. With a quick turn, the orc missed and continued, stumbling to the ground. With a quick thrust, his blade was through the creature.

The remaining men-at-arms had since fled, but Sir Philip made to dismount and assist his young ward. But with deft movements, Aaron slapped the flank of Philip’s horse with the flat of his blade. The mount whinnied and made after the retreating men-at-arms. Philip looked back, to see Aaron offering him a sad smile, as the young man turned back to face his next opponent.

Arrows continued to fly at him, most bouncing off his armor or shield, but one struck true in the side of his armor. Taking to his knee in pain, the next orc grunted a laugh and rush towards the wounded knight. With a cry of pain and rage, Aaron swept his shield up, as the Orc came bearing down on him, rolling the creature off his shield and over his shoulder, to land with a loud thud behind him. Kicking out, he took the orc in the gut, then his sword flashed and its head rolled next to its body.

Two more came at him at once, circling around him, always staying at his 3 and 9 point. “These orcs have some skill, it seems” he breathed between clenched teeth as the pain of the arrow in his side worsened. The arrows now were used more as a distraction, as more orcs put down their bows and picked up sword and axe.

Feigning at the orc on his right, he slashed at the left, severing its hand, as it made to swing. His speed was slowed due to the fall and his weakened side, and was not quick enough to recover. The second orc slashed across his armor, the blade finding its way in between the plating. Falling once again to his knees from the pain, he stabbed out taking the orc in the gut. It knelt down in front of him, its eyes wide with surprise, with the look one gives when death claims them.

Pulling his blade free, he slew the next two that came at him while still down on his knees. When suddenly an arrow broke through his armor, taking him in the chest and exploding the air from his lungs. The last vision Aaron had as he fell to the earth was the sight of a massive orc, still holding the bow the piercing arrow was fired from, was striding towards him, flanked by several robbed men and a dozen other orcs.

Later that day the few remaining members of the hunting party arrived back at Gray Oaks, raising the alarm. Shortly after their arrival, one of the still living horses that had been left behind in the clearing galloped back to town. Once the gates were opened, the horse instinctively made for its place in the stable yard. In the saddle was strapped the, now headless, remains of the Baron Silverhorn.

[sweetlikesplenda]

Part III: Capture and Escape

Aaron awoke to nearly freezing water thrown into his face, though he was slow to realize consciousness. The punishment for not snapping awake was a back hand across the face that nearly cracked his jaw. Aaron opened his swollen eyes and blinked.

He was tied to a table that had been upturned so that he was face to face with a standing orc. Two tusks, one broken, protruded from its mouth, its brown-green skinned face was inches from Aaron’s, the creature’s rancid breath clogging his senses. Glancing around the room, the young knight was able to take in some of his surroundings. Several torches were lit throughout the room, offering scant light in the dark cave. The source of the cold water was heard nearby, in a fast moving underground river. All around him were tables with an assortment of weapons, vials, and instruments of torture. Looking down at his side and chest he could see the arrows had been removed and the injuries wrapped, perhaps better than he imagined the orcs would have been able, or even cared to have done, and even treated with herbs.

“Wake up time, human!” The Orc grunted with a sense of pleasure. There was an intelligence to this Orc, and Aaron recognized it as the one who had shot him twice with arrows in the previous battle. The creature was a hulking eight feet tall, when not hunched, and had arms nearly twice the size of the strong young knight.

Gathering all his strength, courage, and will, Aaron gave the creature no satisfaction in defeat. He looked on impassively at the creature. “When I am free of this, I am going to kill you.” He stated calmly, though in his condition, weakly. His eyes indicated to the orc that it was not said as a hollow threat or boast.

The Orc pulled its hand back to strike another blow to Aaron’s face, when a voice from the gloom pierced the dark. “Turnak. Restrain yourself. We need him alive and, for the most part, healthy.” The Orc, Turnak, turned towards a corner of the room that had no torch, narrowing its eyes.

“You no tell Turnak, what Turnak do, you in Turnak’s cave, human.” Turnak snarled. “Me lead the Bloody Tusk tribe! Me!” It thumbed at itself.

“You are being paid to do exactly that, be told what to do.” The shadowy figures eyes suddenly light up in the gloom, two white orbs in the dark. “You can be replaced with another more…obedient.”

“You no pay us yet, at all! You like other humans. Make promises, then no keeps!” Turnak gave a withering look towards the figure in the dark. “Bloody Tusk lost good Captains to kill your ‘Baron Buford’.” Turnak spat, butchered the name. “And to capture this one. Tribe calls out for blood!”

Aaron remained silent, trying to better understand his situation, and to not draw unwanted attention to himself. While his wounds had been tended to, he felt ill and knew the injuries were not treated as best they could have been. He would need some time and rest to fully recover.

“When this is over you will receive a bonus. The lands south of the forest will be yours. Now, if you are quite done with your little tirade, I need your…expertise in gathering some information from this soldier from Grey Oaks.”

Turnak was still visibly unhappy with the figure in the dark, but as it turned back towards Aaron, a grin formed on its ugly face. The orc considered several torture instruments, before making its selection. A whisper of a prayer escaped Aaron’s lips as the hulking creature moved closer and began its work. Aaron later lapsed into unconsciousness, to the great dissatisfaction of Turnak, who received no scream or pleas for all of his work.

A sudden light caused Aaron to stir and he slowly regained consciousness. He quickly blinked and shut his eyes again as the light ruined his vision. A torch was held close to his face, splashing the Knight in a bright light. As he slowly opened his eyes again, and squinted, Aaron could tell that it was day outside, due to beams of light falling form the ceiling of the deep cave. He had been unconscious for hours at least, perhaps a day.

A robbed man flanked by two other similarly dressed men stared at Aaron, Turnak directly behind him looking over his implements of torture.

Leaning down and lifting Aaron’s slumped head by the chin, so he could look Aaron in the eyes, “You are a stubborn one, yes?” The robbed man asked more to himself. “But, you will be broken.” The man moved a stool in front of where Aaron’s body hung from the upturned table.

“You have more strength and mental agility than any other soldier I have met before. This leads me to believe you are no solider at all, at least not one I would suspect to be one of the late Baron’s men.” The man paused a moment, considering Aaron. “Who are you?”

A cough racked Aaron’s body a moment, before he pulled himself up to his full height, attempting the best formal stance he could muster given his condition. “My name is Aaron Lyonaler, Son of Marcus Lyonaler, of Baldur’s Gate.” His body contorted in pain, from the arrow wounds and those given to him from Turnak’s bloody work and he soon slumped again.

Another moment passed before the robbed man continued. “Baldur’s Gate? You are far from home, my young friend.” He chuckled. “If you are not a Knight of Cormyr or in the Baron or Earl’s employ, then we have little use for you. That is unfortunate for you, I must admit.” Glancing back to the now grinning broken tusked orc. "I will have to give you over to Turnak to play with, in the off chance you may spill some useful information, before you expire, that is. He is very good at what he does. You will suffer a great deal before you beg for death.” The man “tsked” a few times before pushing to stand, and with a wave, gestured the other robbed figures to follow him.

With the torch gone, there was only the light from day outside and a few torches along the wall to give sparse light to what new and inventive instruments the orc had chosen to continue his work. Though, Turnak would be disappointed with the few grunts and moans that Aaron allowed to escape before, once again, falling in and out of consciousness.

When Aaron woke again, he found himself in a pen with several other people, mostly women and children, who were trying to tend to his bleeding and broken body. A young woman in her late teens was looking down on him, his head in her lap. His eyes opened slowly, as she fussed over him, trying to set broken bones and staunch the bleeding that flowed from several open wounds. The young woman was telling an older woman next to him “I do not think he will make it. He is losing too much blood. And even if he does….” Pointing down at his battered legs, “He may never walk again. That orc butcher must not have gotten what he wanted from this one and went too far.”

Aaron’s last thoughts and vision in his unconsciousness had been of a woman and a bright light. Aaron croaked between bloodied and cracked lips to the young woman treating him, “She is coming.” He gasped several times trying to breathe normally through the broken ribs. “She is coming…”

The woman looked down at him and shook her head in sympathy, then said to the older woman. “He may not make it through to the evening, even.”

Aaron’s eyes lulled upwards, and the woman thought he was losing consciousness again. At that moment a bright light exploded in to the cavern so bright that the other prisoners had to shield their eyes. The young woman looked down at Aaron’s face to shield her eyes, and saw him staring blankly in to the light with a small smile on his face.

A force seemed to gently push the woman away from the dying Knight, one that she tried to repulse to continue shielding Aaron. Despite her efforts to resist, the gentle force moved her away. Aaron’s head seemed to rise up, as if being held up by someone. She and all the other prisoners were too stunned or had feelings that the light was not malevolent, and covered their mouths so as to not scream out and attract the guard’s attention.

As Aaron looked in to the light, the familiar figure of a stunning woman with raven black hair and blood red colored armor stepped forward, though the other prisoners could not see the woman, only the brilliant light. He could not help but have a small smile on his face as he beheld the vision of this immaculate woman. She moved forward and placed her hand on the shoulder of the young woman, gently pushing her away from the form of the dying Knight.

“You answered my prayers, my lady. Have you come to take me with you?” He said, though the other prisoners only saw his mouth move, with no words. The woman shook her head gently in response.

As the young woman moved away, and his head touched the stones, he suddenly sucked in his breath, letting it out as his eyes closed in death. The prisoners watched on as the man died before them, the brilliant light surrounding his body, as his head slowly lifted off the ground.

The woman in the red armor, the Great Lady of Strategy, wordlessly bent down and gently lifted his head and looked down on the still form. Leaning down she placed her lips lightly to Aaron’s bloodied and cracked lips and placed a light kiss on him.

As she drew away, a light descended on to the forehead of the dead knight, slithering like a snake around the entirety of his body wrapping it in light. Slowly Aaron’s eyes opened to witness the woman stepping back in to the light, offering him a quick glance and smile. As his eyes opened his breath sucked back in to him like a vacuum and he began breathing again. The light shortly after faded to the muted light offered by the day light outside and the few torches spread out along the walls of the room.

The prisoners watched as a brilliant light descended into the dead man’s forehead, wrapping itself around him and encasing him in light. Aaron’s breath returned and his eyes shot open, as the light quickly dissolved back to semi-darkness. Several blinked and rubbed their eyes as the man, who was just dead, stood before them, his once broken body was now whole.

Looking himself over and tested his leg. Aaron then looked at the stunned prisoners. One, a small boy, finally spoke up meekly. “Are you going to hurt us?”

With a gentle smile, Aaron kneeled down in front of the boy and replied, “No, child. I do not know why the orcs are holding you here, but I am going to free you. The Lady also commands that not only my life be saved, but yours as well.”

The young woman who had held his head as he died spoke up next. “We know nothing of this Lady. But, we beg your assistance.”

“I will need the gear they took from me when I was captured.” The Knight said, as several plans formed in his head.

The small boy pointed across the room to several lockers and chests. “They threw in some armor and things in there two days ago.”

With his attention on the lockers still, he nodded as escape plans began to materialize.

Outside the caves, several of the robbed men stood in front of Turnak in the orc chief’s camp. “You have failed again, Turnak.” The robbed man said coolly to the massive orc. “You were given a chance to make up for your previous failures, capture the Baron Buford alive, should our brother fail. Instead…You filled him with arrows. Then, you manage to capture one of his hunting party…” The man placed his hand to his forehead, then nearly screamed out, “A useless man who isn’t from Gray Oaks, not even from Cormyr! We got nothing from the interrogation, because he had nothing to give, you imbecile!” His hands went in to the air, “I must do everything, it seems!”

“I have things to do, or else this is all for not. If I return to find you killed our captives, you will pay dearly. We still need them for the plan.” The robbed man said, his temper coming more under control. “Take care of things here while I am gone. Or the Bloody Tusk tribe will have a new leader to grovel to.” Durnin seethed.

The man stalked off, flanked by several other robbed men, melding with nature so quickly it was if they had magically teleported away. Turnak, in his fury reached out and grabbed a goblin, unfortunate enough to be within reach of the Chief of the Bloody Tusk clan, and as it whimpered and struggled, snapped its neck. Goblin and Orcs alike suddenly moved off and found excuses to be away from their enraged chieftain.

Inside the prisoner pen, the plan was set. The only other male prisoner, an elderly man whom had been captured from his farm with his wife and two of his grandchildren, would stage a fight to get the attention of the guards.

The two men began to scuffle with each other, though they pulled their punches to only give the illusion of a confrontation. Several of the women and children began screaming and yelling for the two to stop. As the commotion built, an orc flanked by two goblins entered the pen, unlocking it and moving to separate the fighters. Aaron wound up as if to throw a punch, but as the orc moved to beat down the two men to stop the fight quickly and use them as an example to behave, he instead changed up and knocked the orc in the jaw.

At the same moment, the women and children jumped atop the two goblin guards, driving them to the floor. Several pieces of wood had been broken off of the crudely build pen, and the women drove them through the two squirming goblins, killing them.

After his punch connected with the orc, the creature drew back and made to back hand the Knight, as Aaron reached for the orc’s 6 inch belt knife. Ducking under the blow, Aaron deftly removed the knife from the orc's belt and rammed it through to the hilt into the Orc’s chest. The orc jailer blew flecks of blood from its mouth, as it toppled backwards in a heap.

Moments later, Aaron was strapping his armor, a gift from his mentor, back on and collecting his sword and shield. Glancing around the hallway outside the room the prisoners were kept, and seeing no one, Aaron began leading the group of prisoners through the cave.

[sweetlikesplenda]

Part IV: Darkness Gathers

Refugees began to tinkle in to the town seeking protection from rampaging Orcs, goblins, and wild animals. The small town was becoming packed with people fleeing the destruction in the surrounding countryside. Families that could not be housed in the crowded inn or the houses within the town walls were set up with blanket and tents to camp in the streets.

Armed soldiers of the barracks paced the streets, while crossbowmen walked the fortification walls. The residing Captain of the barracks had assumed command with the death of Baron Buford.

Sir Highthorne walked through the halls of the stone keep of Gray Oaks to the Captain’s assembly room. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the offer of the two guards posted outside the door to open the door for him, pushing it open himself.

The room was dominated by a large square wooden table, the workmanship of a town of lumberers and craftsmen. On the far side of the table the Captain stood leaning over a map of the region flanked by his Bully Sergeant and a Corporal. His finger was tracing over the walls of the keep on the map as they discussed troop placements.

Looking up from the map the Captain returned a salute to Sir Highthorne, as the Knight came to stand on the opposite side of the table. “The men are in high enough spirits, considering the situation with the Baron. He was not a well-liked man, but his loss has sent ripples throughout the town.” Sir Philip reported.

“No, he was not much cared for. Despite his lack of military knowledge and concerns, fortunately I was able to drill the men enough to know what to do.” The Captain said, as he nodded to his Sergeant and Corporal, who saluted and filled out of the room.

“Have you dispatched runners to send word of the Baron’s death and the need for reinforcements?” Sir Philip asked, as he sat in a high-backed chair.

“Runners went out this morning. Baron Buford did not wish to seem weak before the Earl. I believe he actually wished this force to attack the Keep. It would have been his way of grabbing at additional prestige. The man had high hopes of battles of old. Forming up the men on an open field and engaging with the enemy in a civilized manner. He failed to realize, not due to a lack of my urging against it, that this goblinoid army will not fight with honor. They will not quit the field to allow us to gather our dead and wounded, they will not offer quarter, nor will they follow civil warfare tactics.” The Captain sighed heavily, placing his hand to his forehead.

The Captain’s name was John Hansburg. He was a career soldier that came from a long line of soldiers. Hansburg was in his early thirties and had seen many campaigns against the Orc and Goblin tribes that roamed the woods and plains nearby.

“I will not throw away my men’s lives on some vain honor. I know when I need additional support.” Continued Captain Hansburg. “Your assistance is greatly appreciated, Sir. I have heard talk of your exploits and your services to the Crown in the past.”

Philip waved the compliment off. “No dwelling on the past when there is so much to do in the present. Now, let us look over our situation.” Philip said, as he and the Captain leaned over the map to discuss the coming battle.


Back in the cave…

“Keep close, but be ready to flee back the way we just came, if the situation gets dangerous.” Aaron whispered to the prisoners behind him.

In his right hand he held his Longsword, a mithral blade that was centuries old, a gift from his mentor, Sir Highthorne. Along the flat of the blade were the words “Bastion of Light” etched in magic lettering, the handle was stylized in the shape of a silver dragon with a large ruby in the pommel. The blade hummed softly as sparks of electricity sprung out along the edge. In his left hand was a torch confiscated from a scone along the stone wall. His shield strapped to his back.

The group had encountered two guards on their way towards the light of day outside the cave, both had been dealt with before an alarm could be raised. The noise of those outside the cave was increasing as they came closer to their goal of the light and freedom.

The torch was doused and Aaron crouched just in the gloom of the cave, taking in the situation outside the cave. In the camp a large contingency of orcs, goblins, and gnolls, milled about in the setting light of the evening, a dozen wargs paced about in cages. A corral was set up near the cave entrance housing several captured horses.

Backing up several paces to where the others waited, Aaron lowered his voice. “The camp is occupied and seems a bit disorganized. A guard change will likely happen shortly, as dusk approaches and many sit for their meal. We will wait for this time to catch the guards while many are distracted.”

Looking in to each of the frightened prisoners faces in the gloom, he considered a moment before continuing. “I doubt they will take any of us captive again. Anyone caught will likely be killed.” He paused a moment to let that sink in. “I will do all I can to give you time to escape. Make directly for the horses in the corral, then on to Gray Oaks, do not stop to rest, as they will be out hunting you. As much as I hate to say, run the horses to death, if need be. There will be no time to properly rest them.”

The young woman who had held Aaron’s head and tended his wounds spoke up, quietly asking. “You won’t be coming with us?” Tears forming in her eyes. She knew that he meant to sacrifice his life if needed to give them time to flee.

He had not taken the time to truly look at the woman until now. Under the dirt and fading light Aaron could still tell she was a striking woman. Long, thick, dark brown hair framed a delicate and slightly tanned face. The woman was naturally beautiful, with full red lips, deep brown eyes that seemed to know more than a simple farm girl. Her cheek structure allowed for a very pleasant smile showing dimples on each side of her mouth when she smiled. Even under the grime from the cave and a bruise on her right cheek, the woman was a dazzling to look at. Her body was small and lithe and while not muscular, she held a strength.

He patted her hand reassuringly.

“I intended to live through this. But, your safety is my main concern. Now, no worrying for me, or else I may end up sacrificing myself for naught. Understood?” He asked, looking at each of the captives, who each nodded quietly.

Catching one more glance at the young woman, Aaron offered as brave of a smile as he could muster, then crouched down as low as he could and shuffled back to the edge of the fading light in to the cave.

Whispering a prayer to the Lady of Strategy, Aaron waited until many in the camp turned to the evening meal. Giving the signal to the other captives, three taps on the stone wall, Aaron stood and brought his sword in front of him, sliding his shield from off his shoulder in to his left hand.

Two orcs stood guard at the entrance to the cave, the first was struck in the back of the head by Aaron’s shield, dropping it to the ground, and the second he thrust through the gut with “Bastion of Light” as it turned to face the sudden noise. The camp suddenly came alive with milling members of the camp dropping bowls of food and grabbing weapons, many running about aimlessly not certain from which direction the attack came.

In the chaos, Turnak tore his way out of his tent, grabbing a passing gnoll, he shouted “What is meaning of this? What happening in my camp?!”

The frightened gnoll could only shout “Attack!”

The massive Orc picked up its heavy axe and bow and confidently strode his way towards the commotion at the center of the camp.

Three goblins and an orc lie dead at Aaron’s feet, a dozen assorted goblins, orcs, and gnoll circled the lone figure that fought in the twilight, before the dusk. Behind the throng of those trying to get close enough to engage the armored man a group of humans fled on horseback out of the camp.

Turnak bellowed in rage and tossed aside a goblin that stood in his way as he pushed to the front of the pack. Loosing an arrow at Aaron, who flicked his shield to deflect the armor piercing shaft upwards and away. The rest of the goblinoid army backed away a pace, as Turnak drew his axe and strode purposely forward.

“No more games!” The Orc bellowed as he lunged bringing his axe down, striking the ground as Aaron dodged away. “No more captives! No more games! I eat you like I should have! No more Durnin!” He screamed, spittle flying from its jowls, as he swung again, bashing his axe into Aaron’s shield forcing him to stagger slightly. “No more cloak Humans to tell Turnak ‘No eat’!”

The Orc’s rage was at his height as he swung wild and with full strength. Over and over the creature swung down or across at head height in an attempt to remove Aaron’s from his shoulders. Aaron’s shield or blade came up to divert or deflect the blows away from his body, until the creature over extended. Aaron had paid the Orc for its blunder with a slash across its ribs, which only seemed to increase the intensity of the creatures attack.

After a few moments it seemed the battle was in favor of the Orc, who would not tire. Both combatants had suffered blows and blood flowed. Aaron’s strength was beginning to fade, as the Orc seemed to be a fount of endurance.

Aaron had backed his way towards the edge of the camp in hopes he could make a break for the trees, should the opportunity arise. To his surprise as he peripherally looked towards the woods he saw the young woman again, on horseback holding a short bow. The lingering look nearly cost him his head, but he quickly ducked under the blow, as an arrow speed across taking the orc in the shoulder.

Turnak looked at the shaft protruding from his shoulder, as is not fully registering it. He quickly yanked it free, as blood coursed down its chest. In the moment of confusion, Aaron quickly made for the horse and jumped up behind the young woman.

As they made their way to the trees the barking of wargs being set free from their pens were heard behind them. The horse was born down with the weight of two riders and would not be able to outrun the pack of wolves coming for them.

“It will takes some effort to fend off the wargs from this position, but I will try not to harm you.” Aaron tried to assure her.

Facing swarming wargs from the horseback with the woman in front of him would prove difficult and limiting.

The young woman only smiled at him with a wink, “You let me worry about the dogs.” She said as she slipped around him to sit behind Aaron, with acrobatic skill.

The woman slipped an arrow out of her quiver, took aim, and let it fly. A yelping sound from behind indicated she had hit her mark.

“Keep her steady.” The woman said, calmly taking another arrow from her quiver and aiming.

“Hard to do with the trees…” Aaron said, as he tried to lead the horse along the best path through the woods.

The Wargs yelped behind them a moment after each arrow was fired, as they sped away, though none ever made it within sight of Aaron, as he looked over his shoulder.

As the sound of pursuit ceased Aaron looked over his shoulder at the woman, “You are incredible. What is your name?”

The young woman replied, “Angelica. But, you can call me Angel.”

“A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Angel. My name is Aaron Lyonaler.”

“A pleasure Aaron.” Angel said as she slipped the bow around her shoulder and laid her head against his back, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist for the bumpy ride.

Hours after the sun had fully set in to the sky, the walls of Gray Oaks came in sight for the two riders.

In the foothills thirty miles away from the camp of Turnak. Several cloaked men seemed to almost materialize out of thin air. A pair of hill giants stood next to a large throne carved from a boulder, where sat the largest giant of the tribe. The two picked up their clubs and began moving to intercept the sudden visitors, when the lead cloaked human threw back his hood.

“Durnin.” Came the gravelly voice of the giant sitting on the throne. The Leader of the tribe had a better command of the Common language of humans than most of his race. “Back so soon?” he chuckled deeply, his chin resting on his massive fist, looking bored. The two guards ceased moving towards the new comers and went back to their posts.

Durnin, the leader of the cloaked men, stepped forward a few paces. “Turnak has failed too many times. He cannot be trusted for sensitive matters anymore. He will die on the walls of Gray Oaks. I want you to lead this army, when he is gone.” A wicked smile slowly grew on the man’s face.

The giant leader opened and spread its massive hands in a gesture. “What do you offer in exchange for my tribe’s service?”

Durnin signaled and a man to his right stepped forward and opened a case. Within the box a large diamond the size of an apple sat atop a pile of other precious gems and gold.

“A Gem of Command?” The giant considered a moment, an ugly grin appeared on its even uglier face. The thought of smashing these puny humans and just taking the gem for himself was nearly overwhelming. With the gem he could force the submission of the other tribe leaders and reunite the scattered tribes under his own, to make himself a king. Thoughts of controlling enough tribes and land to never have to go without, to never have to live in land deemed undesirable to civilized races. But, Kulgin, Leader of this tribe of hill giants knew the powers Durnin and his companions possessed.

Sensing the urgency in Durnin’s request, Kulgin pressed for more. “And the lands promised to Turnak.”

“Done.” With a waves of his hand, the man to his right closed the case.

Kulgin gave the gem a final fleeting glance as the box was closed.

“I will send word to you when it is time. Things draw to their climax. Be ready to march.” Durnin said without waiting for a reply, as he and his companions turned and quickly faded from view.

Kulgin sat on his throne while wild dreams of naming himself a true king of giants swam through his head.

[sweetlikesplenda]

Part V: Betrayal

Sir Highthorne clasped his hand on Aaron’s shoulder again, as if the young man might slip away. The older knight had been like a father to Aaron since the loss of his parents, and the return of his young ward was a great relief to him.

Aaron had just briefed Captain Hansburg and Sir Highthorne of what occurred during his captivity, which had previously been confirmed by the prisoners that had been made their way to town before he had arrived.

Captain Hansburg flipped through several reports on his desk. “We are nearing capacity for space and food. People continue to come for refuge at an alarming rate. This is no typical orc raid. The goblinoid armies are at all points around the town.” Pointing to the map at several locations within several miles around the town. “They are meticulously squeezing in on the town, cutting us off. This is far too coordinated for this Turnak to come up with on his own, clever as he may seem. They have been careful to sever any opportunity to get word out or for it to travel from the outlying homes. They are obviously keeping word from getting out until they can destroy the town. On top of that, we do not know who these men that seem to be behind them are or what they want.”

Rubbing the back of his head, Aaron replied. “I believe they wished to use the threat of the orc army in conjunction with hostages to demand what they want. As I said, when they captured me they were hoping to get Baron Buford or at least someone important to the town to use with the other captives.”

“How are the town’s defenses?” Aaron asked.

“We have two more catapults being built to supplement the two existing. They are going to be smaller, due to a lack of supplies and time.” The Captain said, looking out the window towards the marshaling yard, now being used to build the catapults, as well as house refugees. “Join me for the dinner meal. We need to boost morale among the troops, so all will be in the mess hall tonight.”

Sir Highthorne nodded and gestured for Aaron to follow him. He led Aaron to the room prepared for him to bunk in.

“Rest awhile. Then meet in the mess hall for dinner.” The older knight instructed and departed, closing the door behind him.

Sleep did not come quick for Aaron and when he could, they were filled with disturbing dreams of his ordeal at the hands of the robbed men and Turnak. He awoke abruptly, his pillow soaked in sweat. Realizing that sleep would not return, the young knight decided to walk the parapets of the keep.

The walls surrounding the town had a gate on the north and south ends. Two towers flanked either side of the gate, with a tower at the centers of the eastern and western walls, each with several slits used for archers to fire from while protected from return fire. A catapult was set up at each gate to rain death on those that would approach. The stone walls were a solid ten feet thick. The gates had heavy iron gates that could be lowered to seal the town. Gray Oaks was currently under lock down, only opening to allow refugees to quickly enter, with armed soldiers patrolling the walls and streets of the town.

Dusk was settling and the stars began to make their appearance in the darkening sky, as Aaron began his walk of the Keep. He returned the nods of the guards he passed, as they kept their vigil over the town. A deep shadow in the archer towers that flanked the northern gate offered a peaceful place for introspect, which Aaron used to sit and observe the town.

Thoughts of Angel crept in to his mind and he found he could hardly keep her from his mind. Her lithe form, soft, dark brown hair, full lips, and his desire to just look in to her brown eyes. The young woman was more than she seemed. Her soft and gentle nature that she exuded was matched with her hunters’ skill with a bow and dexterous and acrobatic handling of herself. The woman who seemed like a gentle farmer’s daughter had become quite a mystery for the young man, and his feelings, that seemed to erupt from no-where, was causing his analytical mind no measure of frustration.

After only a short while, Aaron began to notice movement along the northern wall.

Soon after, Aaron entered the mess hall briskly, walking directly to the head table, where sat Captain Hansburg, his staff, and Sir Highthorne.

Walking directly up to the Captain, Aaron quietly said, “Captain, I believe we have infiltrators.”

The Captain halted his conversation with his Sergeant at arms and motioned for Aaron to continue.

“As I sat on the battlements, I witnessed a soldier on the walls dropping a note over the wall to a man on a horse, who quickly rode off. As I attempted to apprehend the soldier, he quickly jumped over the walls to his death. His body is being recovered at the moment.”

The Captain frowned and stood up, raising his hands and called for attention. “I want all soldiers and Keep personnel to assemble outside the Great Hall for inspect…” His words cut short by a quick slash of a blade across his throat from behind by a kitchen server. His hands went to his throat and he fell forward. The Keep’s Sergeant at arms fell forward into his plate a split moment later, as a second assassin slit his throat from behind.

Blinking away the confusion, Aaron turned to see Sir Highthorne struggling with a third assassin, who was pushing a long meat carving knife in to his shoulder. With a gasp of pain, Philip pushed his attacker off of him. The assassin still held the knife and with a quick slash across Sir Philip’s chest, he quickly rushed after the other two assassins that fled the dining hall, as the room erupted in to turmoil.

Aaron began making for Sir Highthorne, but seeing that he was still alive, quickly diverted and called out for several soldiers to follow him after the three fleeing men.

Torches were being lit around the town after hearing the commotion in the mess hall and soldiers on guard were rushing to answer the noise.

The three men were at the northern gate and were facing off with the two guards on duty at the gate, attempting to lift the gate sealing them in. Aaron, flanked by three soldiers rushed to the aid of the outnumbered and surprised gate guards.

Two of the assassins were quickly brought down with crossbow bolts, after injuring the two gate guards. The third that was attempted to open the gate and realizing he would be captured, slashed his own throat, as Aaron and the soldiers bore down on him, taking his own life.

In exasperation, Aaron knelt down next to the dead assassins, searching the bodies. The three men had no marks or other form of identification on them. Simply the clothing they wore, and the knives they used to slay the Captain and Sergeant.

Returning to the hall Aaron found that Sir Highthorne was being worked on by the Army’s surgeon. The Captain and Sergeant’s bodies were being prepared for removal and burial.

Sensing Aaron approach the surgeon informed over his shoulder, “He will live…I think. He lost a bit of blood, but the attack was two-fold. Seems the assassins also poisoned the ale. Tis a good thing you came in and halted the meal when you did. Most of the men didn’t get too far in to their cups, so only a few of the boys are suffering from the effects of the poison. Though, your Knight here is suffering from the poison and the knife wound. He won’ be of much use for a bit.”

Letting his hand slip down his face, Aaron wiped the perspiration that was building up on his brow. The Corporal of the Keep approached Aaron with a grim expression. He was a man of middle age, his head was beginning to show the signs of balding. But, he had the appearance of a career soldier, with a barrel chest and broad shoulders. He bore the look of a brawler.

“Sir? With the Baron, the Captain, AND the Sergeant dead, I would normally turn to your Sir Highthorne for leadership, since the Captain and the Baron gave him a great deal of credit. Normally it would fall on me...But, I’ve never been one to lead and all. I can take orders and deliver, but never been one to give them. You were his student, yeah?” The Corporal asked as he indicated Sir Highthorne.

Aaron just nodded, watching the unconscious Highthorne being stitched by the surgeon.

The Corporal continued. “We need someone to get this bunch back in to a semblance of order. Would you take the charge?”

Aaron stared off a moment, watching the usually disciplined soldiers and members of the Keep fall in to confusion, then turned to face the Corporal. “What is your name, Corporal?”

“Higgins, sir.” The Corporal came to an attention stance out of habit.

“I suppose that makes you Sergeant Higgins, then.”

The, now Sergeant, offered a smile and gave a smart salute.

Late in the night a man rode in to the Goblinoid camp and dismounted in front of Durnin and his robbed companions.

“Our informant was discovered. That loose end is settled, in any case.” He offered the note the soldier had handed over the wall to him. "This is a record of the guard shifts, numbers, food supplies, and such."

Unfolding the note Durnin said to the rider. “With your contact dead, others will be making their move. The Keep should be in turmoil. I was hoping it would not come to all this. But, they have tipped my hand.”

“A shame we lost our contact inside. Though, this will do.” Durnin Said, reading over the troop numbers and placements. A smile beginning to form “This will do.”

[sweetlikesplenda]

Part VI: Defenses

“The messengers we sent the other day have not returned, sir.” Newly promoted Sergeant Higgins said as he saluted.

Aaron return the salute and nodded. “We will pray for their success.”

Four men, well versed in hunting and the lay of the surrounding lands, had been selected of the volunteers to take messages in each direction of the map to get word outside the enemy lines of what was occurring, and to bring assistance.

“What of the defenses?” Aaron continued as he poured over his list of improvements.

“The town is on lock-down, with the gates sealed. The two additional catapults will be completed shortly and placed in positions facing the eastern and western walls, though they will not be placed on the walls, per your instructions, and will remain in the marshalling yard. And I’ve got boys alternating six hour watches along the walls.” Sergeant Higgins replied, ticking off on his fingers as he went.

“Good. Now I have a few more things in mind. It will require a lot of work, but we need to act swiftly. Gather all the oil you can from the keep and the town.” He paused for a moment. “Sand as well, in case of fire within the walls. I want the trees cleared within a one hundred yard radius. I intend to use fire to our advantage and I do not want to burn down the whole forest, in addition I do not want the enemy to have any cover as they approach. Use that lumber to have two towers built flanking the north and south gates. I want them rickety, so only strong enough to hold a few archers, but will break down when we need them to, I will tell you why this is later. I also want planks built so the archers can quickly retreat from the towers back to the safety of the walls. Get all the woodsmen in the town you can. I want snares and traps set up in the fields outside… pits dung as well. I want them all covered up with debris and sand as best they can. Let’s have a little surprise waiting for them when they charge.”

“Sir! I will gather up a force and see to it.”

“Before you go, what are our numbers?”

“Forty men were stationed here regularly, prior to any rumors of trouble. Another sixty were detailed from Suzail to investigate, that was Captain Hansburg and his men, but they were trapped behind the enemy lines as they began to press in. Among those sixty we had a few engineers. Among those in the town, I did some inventory of civilians, we have about thirty or so hunters that can use a bow or knife to good effect.”

“I hate to ask this, but we will need those bows.”

“I’m sure we can convince the boys to fight for their families and lives.”

“See to it, Sergeant. Thank you.”

Aaron turned back to his preparations as Higgins made his way out of the Keep to see to the tasks assigned to him.

The late evening sun was punishing on the workers detailed to remove the trees, and Aaron wiped his forehead of perspiration, as he helped to carry in the last of the large trees that had surrounded the Keep.

The engineer team was already assembling the wooden planks there were being chopped by lumberers in to towers Aaron had ordered. The enterprising team had heard Aaron’s request and had come up with a quick means of destabilizing the towers so they would quickly fall, by making one of the four legs of the tower removable, by the pulling of a rope. This way the towers would fall inward and block off approach to the gates.

Elderly men and young boys were gathering oil and assisting the women and Keep staff in preparing the town for the siege. Food was being moved and prepared, debris was being pulled and created along with rocks to use for the catapults, and arrows were being gathered and made by fletchers.

A horn blast pulled Aaron’s attention to the sentry on the north wall.

“Figures approaching from the north, just within the tree line!” came the call.

Aaron ran up the stairs to the top of the walls and looked out.

Out of the line of trees strode the towering Orc, Turnak. In his hand he held the head of one of the messengers sent with word of the goblinoid army by the hair.

With a loud gwaffing laugh he hurled the head a few dozen paces in front of him. “Human not quiet enough.”

The defenses were not ready yet and the men not in place. So, Aaron stalled for time, in case this was an attack.

“Why have you come? Is this just a taunt or do you have an army with you?”

An enormous gnarled finger jutted out and pointed at Aaron. “I come for you!” Turnak cried, spittle flying from his jowls. “Face me, then die. Then others with you die.”

A soldier to his right said in a low voice, “Sir, you can’t seriously be considering facing that monster.”

But, Aaron was already unstrapping his sword from his back and placing it in the holster of his belt. “Fetch me my shield.” He called to a Keep page as he began to descend the walls.

“Sir, if you are going out there, what are your orders?” Sergeant Higgins asked, as he trotted up to Aaron.

Taking his shield in his left hand and ensuring his armor was snug Aaron made his way towards the north gate.

“Erect the towers at the gates and place a few archers on them to harry the attackers. When they reach the gate, drop the towers in front of them so they cannot easily ram the gates open. Then, defend the place as best you can. That is all that anyone can ask, Sergeant.”

As the iron-gate slowly raised to permit Aaron to exit, he turned and saluted with his sword. “May the Lady of Strategy guide your battles.”

The soldiers nearby saluted, some invoking the name of Tempus and other gods of war and justice.

Once outside the gate was quickly shut again. Aaron turned to stride towards his opponent.

Turnak unstrapped his massive war axe from his back and made towards Aaron, a grin formed on its ugly face. Burned in to the handle was a symbol that made Aaron frown and approach the orc quicker than he normally would. “Garagos…” He whispered to himself seeing the symbol.

Halting a dozen paces before Turnak, Aaron waited for demands or conditions to the challenge Turnak posed. But, the Orc did not halt but bore down on the Knight.

Only quick reflexes kept him alive as he dodged right to avoid a downward strike that would have split him.

From his last encounter with the orc, Aaron knew Turnak would not tire easy and that more than simple strength would be necessary to best him.

Rather than take a blow on the shield or try to parry away Turnak’s swings and tire his arms, Aaron dodged and weaved to avoid him when possible. The orc was fast and strong, but his strength bore his swings through, not allowing him the dexterity to change direction quickly, giving Aaron an advantage.

As Turnak drew back to strike a head level bow, an opening presented itself along the Orc’s left arm. Aaron quickly drove up, catching his blade in the gauntlet covering the orc’s left forearm. Quickly slicing through, Turnak drew back in surprise and pain, as blood flowed from the wound.

Drawing back his blade, Aaron was not quick enough to avoid a back hand from Turnak’s right fist. The blow took him across the face and Aaron staggered back. The large axe that would normally require two hands to wield by the strongest of men, seemed easily handled by the orc, as he advanced swinging it in one.

A fierce slashing blow struck Aaron in the mid-section, but by the grace of the gods, his dwarven crafted armor held and absorbed some of the blow that would normally shatter ribs. As Turnak advanced to take advantage of Aaron being off balance, he stepped in one of the cleverly hidden bear traps set out by the woodsmen.

The massive claws of the trap intended to catch a bear snapped shut around Turnak’s leg, breaking bone. The orc howled in rage and tried to free himself of the vice. In that moment, Aaron stepped forward and with a thrust of his blade, Turnak was staring dumb-founded at the young knight’s sword through its chest.

A second later the blade was driven to the hilt through the massive orc. Turnak slumped backwards and hit the ground hard, blood pooling below his form.

The Orc’s breathing began to slow and his vision faded, but in its last moments, he said “You’s good. Just…just…a pawn is all. Just pawn for shadow druids…”

“Shadow druids? I don’t understand.” Aaron asked leaning close to hear the dying orc’s last words.

“Shadow druids…Humans cut ancient trees….Turnak their pawn…” and with that the orc’s head tilted to the side, its eyes clouded over.

Seeing their clan chief dead, the few orcs that accompanied Turnak faded back in to the tree line. Aaron noticed a few pieces of paper protruding from the orc’s vest, which he took.

Aaron slowly made his way back to the Keep, to the sounds of cheering from those along the wall. The battle with the orc had raised more questions than had answered.


Several miles away in the goblinoid camp, that night.

“Turnak has failed for the last time. It is time for a new leader. One that will crush this fortress for me.” Durnin announced to the camp as he peered into the dark woods just outside the ring of light from the camp fires.

From out of the gloom and shadows of the forest heavy footsteps, that shook the ground, could be heard and felt, as several hill giants strode in to camp. At the head was the giant chieftain, Kulgin.

"Very soon the town will be ash" Durnin said, steepling his fingers together in front of him.

[sweetlikesplenda]

Part VII: Blood, Sweat, Tears, and More Blood

It seemed as if his head had just laid down on his pillow when the call for dawn muster rang out. Sticks beat against drums calling the soldiers to the marshaling yard to assemble. Aaron tugged on his tunic and was still strapping on his armor as he hurried from his room to inspect the troops. The soldiers came to attention at the call of Sergeant Higgins. Aaron walked along the lines looking the soldiers over, inspecting their preparedness. A feeling came over him that eyes were on him, and as he turned to look at the gate to the marshaling yard he spotted Angelica leaning against a support beam watching him.

With several instructions for guard posts for the day and to critique a few soldiers whose armor was not being maintained as well as could be, Aaron dismissed the soldiers to their duties.

Tentatively at first, he made his way towards Angelica near the gate.

He was greeted with a small smile from the young woman as he bowed formally to her.

“Good morning, Aaron.” She offered brightly.

With a slight rush of blood to his cheeks Aaron returned the greeting. He could hardly resist looking her over. Now cleaned and rested, her natural beauty shone. She was a little thing, scarcely over five feet, with large eyes and bright teeth. She, even more now, did not resemble the typical farm girl one would expect in this small hamlet.

Slipping her arm through his, she informed him matter-of-factly. “I told my aunt and uncle that you would be having first meal with us. Come!”

With a surprise that kept him from voicing any resistance, Aaron soon found himself being lead through the gate and to a small house nearby. Before he knew it he was face to face with a farmer and his wife, being introduced.

“Uncle Harold, Aunt Judith, this is Aaron. He is the one who got us out of the cave.” She said giving introduction and indicating each as their name was mentioned. As she finished she looked up at him with a grin.

“A pleasure to make both of your acquaintances, Mister Harold, Misses Judith.” He stammered out, caught up in Angelica’s eyes as she looked up at him.

“No need for formalities, son.” The farmer said with a chuckle at the young man’s discomfort as he offered his hand to Aaron. “You helped our Angel. We are happy to have you in our home.”

The table had been set with four placements. The food was plain and free of the fare that typically would be consumed at the Keep, but it was filling.

Aaron finished recounting the events of the day before at the request of Aunt Judith, with Angelica giving additional details of Aaron’s actions that he had glossed over. Standing to help clear the table, Judith waved him off and picked up the dishes herself. “Go and have a walk or something. It’s a nice day, after all.” The middle aged woman gave a discreet wink to Angel, who quickly intertwined her arm in Aaron’s and lead him towards the door.

“I’ll be back shortly.” She sang out. Aunt Judith just shook her head in response, knowing better. The shy young man blinked as he was drug out of the house by this very forward woman, a bit bewildered.

The two walked, arms linked at the elbows, along the wall of the town, looking out over the work crews preparing the town for the siege. They stopped in the shade of one of the north wall towers, their conversations had been light thus far.

The young man turned to her, then after a moment said “There is something more to you. While you seem at home in the town, you are not from Grey oaks, are you?”

“I am not.” She answered after a brief pause as she looked out over the wall.

He analyzed her a moment, then said. “You seem more situated for a large city, but capable in a hamlet like this. Why do you live with your Aunt and Uncle, if I may ask?”

Her gaze was still out over the wall, looking in to the forest surrounding the town, “My parents were killed…Several years ago.” She looked back to him. “I have never spoken of my parents to anyone, but I feel I can tell you. They died in service to the crown. Anything further than that, I would have to trust you even more.”

“You seem a mystery that is full of surprises, such as how you handled yourself on the horse and with a bow. More than a mere hunter. But” He lifted his hand in “I will not pry.”

She simply nodded a few times, then changed the topic, “Why did you do it?” She looked up at him with a slight tile of her head.

“Do what?”

“Stay behind so that we could get away?”

“A lot of reasons. My Lady brought me back from the brink, in part, to help you all. I also could not just abandon you all to whatever fate Turnak and whoever commanded him had in store for you. How would I live with myself? And...” He trailed off, his cheeks flushing.

“And..?” She inquired one delicate brow lifting at his blush.

“Well, how do I put this…In addition to the other reasons, I just, well, found you fascinating. There was something about you. It was part of what drove me on, in addition, that is, to the other reasons.”

A sweet giggle escaped the girl, and she quickly placed her hand to her lips to stifle it. Propelling herself up on her tip toes, she placed her hands on his shoulders and extended to her limit to place a quick kiss on his cheek.

With a furious blush, Aaron blinked in surprise. With a grin, Angelica twirled around once, then without a word, skipped off towards her home.

With a few more blinks Aaron stood rooted to his spot considering what had just happened.

After the young woman had retreated from sight, Aaron recalled the papers recovered from Turnak’s body. Clear instructions were given on one note for Turnak to remove the leader of the town’s defenses to reduce moral. Another, older note, gave spare details that the woodsmen of the town and Baron Buford were warned that a thicket of trees were sacred and not to be touched. Warnings continued to come, but the Baron continued to cull the trees for use in his personal hunting lodge. Then the attacks began. Aaron read and considered these notes as he made his way back to the Keep.

Later that day most of the preparations were completed and inventory was being checked by couriers from the Keep. Oil had been collected, kindling, rocks, tree boles, ammunition, weapons, armor, and other implements necessary for the defense of the town. At the north and south gates debris had been placed in a “U” shape inside of the gates forming a wall that would have to be climbed over by the attackers to reach the defenders. This would be doused in oil, if the gates were at risk of being breached, and lit on fire to force the attackers to climb over the flames to attack the defenders.

Archers and crossbowmen walked the battlements and soldiers had been placed in eight man teams and placed throughout the town. Ammunition for the catapults was placed within reach of those loading the war machines. Archers had been placed in the newly constructed towers outside the gates, with planks that would allow them to move back to the walls, if the need arose.

In addition to the regular soldiers, a dozen and a half woodsmen and hunters were stationed along the battlements, bows in hand and ready to defend their families and homes. The citizens were given daggers, short swords, spears, or any other implement of war they could handle. Even the children were given kitchen knives or anything else they could wield in the case they would need to defend themselves.

The tension among the soldiers was high, which was being read by the citizens. There was little conversation and the town was quiet throughout the day. Just as the third meal of the day was being called out, a horn broke the silence. Movement along the south facing wall drew Aaron at a run. Arriving he was informed by a soldier that an advanced scout was spotted.

In the one hundred yard kill zone that had been cleared between the wall and the forest, a human male was seen sprinting towards the wall.

“Open the gate!” Aaron called out. “Close it immediately after.”

The gate came up just enough to admit the man, at the moment he arrived at the wall. The gate slamming shut immediately after.

An out of breath man was greeted by Aaron and after a moment to rest informed those gathered. “They're coming!”

“Stations!” Higgins called out as a flurry of movement began. Archers moved to the battlements pulling arrows from their quivers, the eight man teams began taking up their placements along the wall, before the gates, and about the town. Reservists began making their way towards the main keep to be assigned as needed.

Moments after the call went out the advance element of the goblinoid army arrived at the tree line. Goblins stood at the fore front, gnolls, hobgoblins, and orcs stood behind. The sun was near setting, casting long shadows that darkened the forest and obscured the numbers of the goblinoid army. From within these shadows emerged a thirteen foot tall giant. Kulgin grinned wickedly at the forces arrayed along the battlements.

Behind the giant a hundred goblins carrying wooden ladders and shields came just out of the tree line. Orcs and gnolls were queued up behind them.

A massive finger jutted out, pointing at the south wall. With angry cries the ladder carrying goblins began to charge forward, followed by the others.

The sun was near settling below the horizon, as a woodsman leaned against a fallen tree, panting heavily. He knew he had to get to Suzail. If he did not outrun his pursuers he would certainly be killed, along with those in Grey Oaks for whom he carried a message for.

The sound of baying wargs closing in behind him caused him to push himself back up and continue on. The man had been running the entirety of the day. His left leg was bleeding from an arrow wound that he had to break off, then push the remainder of the way through his thigh. This slowed his movements and left a clear trail of blood for the monster wolves and their handlers to follow.

His head swam and he hardly recognized his surrounding, only that he was heading in the right direction. Without even knowing it, the woodsman was out of the woods and in to pastures and farmlands.

An orc arrow sang through the air and planted in the ground just behind his right foot, as he tried to shuffle along as fast as his wounded leg would allow. From out of the fading sun, he could make out and hear the sound of horses. Squinting in the setting evening sun he saw a patrol of Cormyrian soldiers racing towards him, then passing him, making for the wargs and orcs that were nearly upon the wounded woodsman.

A Sergeant of the patrol reined in before the man, while some of the soldiers continued on to give chase to the orcs and wargs that had turned to run back towards the woods.

“Who are you and why were those orcs trying to make you their dinner?” The Sergeant demanded.

With the threat of the orcs gone, his will was no longer sufficient to keep him on his feet. The man fell and grasped at his wounded leg. “The orcs…They have an army!” He pointed excitedly back towards the woods. “They’re attacking my village!”

“Where are they attacking lad?” The Sergeant asked as he dismounted, a few other soldiers from the patrol also dismounted, one taking the reins from the Sergeant.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, obvious signs of fever beginning, the woodsman’s eyes began to flutter closed. “Grey…Oaks.” He muttered as his head hit the ground.

“Call the Chirurgeon up and get word out to the outpost.” He ordered to one of the soldiers that was still in the saddle.

[sweetlikesplenda]

Part VIII: At the Gates of Hell

The goblin attackers were in retreat. The fifth wave of goblins carrying scaling ladders had unsuccessfully taken the wall, suffering great casualties in the process. The tactic had been to send in goblin grunts holding shields to deflect the arrows from the human defenders so that others could set up their ladders, while orc bowmen supported them. Orcs and gnolls sprinted up from behind them as the goblins neared the walls, so that as they could climb the ladders as they were being deployed against the wall.

Human hands pushed the ladders off as quickly as they could. But, the sheer numbers allowed some to be set in place and an orc or gnoll to scale them before they could be dislodged. Hand to hand combat sparked along the battlements as this happened.

Aaron’s sword flashed back and forth, cutting enemies as they attempted to breach the wall. Several of the human soldiers had fallen to orc arrows or by attackers scaling the walls. A dozen others had sustained injuries in the fights and had been removed from the wall to the keep to be cared for. But, the attackers were in retreat once more. This sent up a small cheer among the defenders. A last wave of catapult fire was sent off to catch the retreating foes as they hurried back to the tree line. Raining large rocks on the fleeing goblins.

Just outside of catapult range stood the leader of the attacking forces, Kulgin the giant chief. Next to the massive figure stood several hooded figures. One of these was Durnin the leader of the Shadow Druids. Durnin indicated with a flick of his hand, and from the tree line two giants pushed forward a catapult with a huge boulder loaded. With another flick of his hand the boulder was suddenly engulfed in flames. A team of orcs moved forward and sprung the release on the catapult projecting the flaming rock towards the fort.

The defenders watched helplessly as the boulder arched in the air, then dropped just inside the walls, smashing through a home, setting it ablaze. Teams from within the walls, along with citizens, began moving towards the burning building tossing buckets of water and sand on the engulfed building.

Another launch from the catapult struck the wall along the north side. The whole of the foundation shook, but held. A third boulder crashed in to the same spot as the second, causing a fracture in the north wall that nearly breached it.

Aaron assigned men off the north wall, in the case another boulder might shatter the wall. The catapult on the north wall did not have the reach of the enemy’s catapult. With no time to have a longer arm built, Aaron came up with another idea. Running towards the catapult, Aaron grabbed the engineer team and began issuing orders. The team of men lifted the rear of the catapult to rest atop a tree bole. This changed the trajectory of the catapult, angling it more. Then, with the help of another he moved the crossbar forward, allowing the arm to swing further.

Ordering up more ammunition, Aaron gave the command to fire on the enemy catapult, as two giants were loading in another boulder to fire at the keep. Three large rocks were launched from the cup of the catapult, speeding along towards the enemy. All three rocks bounced just short of the catapult, but had been given the distance needed to skip along the ground once, two rocks striking the enemy catapult, destroying the base and arm, the third dealing a death blow to one of the giants.

The defenders raised a chorus of cheers, as all in the keep heard Durnin scream with rage at the destruction of his own catapult. But, a large break had been created in the north facing wall, as well as a small fire within the town, that was being tended by soldiers and civilian volunteers.

The battle field was now deserted, except for the many bodies that were strewn about, killed by arrow and catapult fire. The setting sun heralded an end to the conflict for the day. The rush tactics used by Kulgin had failed to swiftly breach and take the fort.

Aaron sheathed ‘Bastion of Light’ and picked up a ladle offered to him by a keep page who carried a bucket of drinking water for the soldiers. Draining it, he called out to the soldiers to quit the wall, bringing up the reserve forces to take their place while the weary soldiers took advantage of some rest and food.

The battered substitute commander of the defenders made his way to the keep. The toll of the day hit Aaron all at once and he nearly collapsed as he entered the main doors. To his surprise he was caught by Angelica and led to a chair in the Mess Hall, which he heavily fell in to. His eyes had a hard time focusing on the hustle of the Mess Hall. Volunteers from the town were running about seeing to the food and water needs of the soldiers coming in from duty along the wall, treating the wounded that were lying in cots, and moving weapons and goods about.

Snapping her fingers a few times to get his attention, Aaron turned back to Angel who was offering him food. Smiling his thanks to her, he took the plate of mutton and bread. Among all the noise and despair of the defenders in the Hall, Aaron found a great comfort in just being close to the woman who smiled at him while he ate. The two, despite what they had endured throughout the day, sat talking about each other’s lives, until Aaron began to nod off. With a helping hand, Angelica walked Aaron to his room, removed his armor, and put him to bed. She blew out the single candle in his room as she made her way out to check on her aunt and uncle.

Loud hurried banging on his room door shook Aaron awake. Sergeant Higgins quickly entered the room and saluted. “Sir! The enemy is deploying to the field again.”

With a few nods, Aaron was already putting his armor back on and strapping his sword to his belt. “Bring the reservist back in and deploy the men to the walls again.”

“Sir, they are massing on two fronts now. Both the north and eastern wall.”

Fully suited, Aaron followed Higgins out of his room and down through the Mess Hall towards the walls again. “Position the newly completed catapults to the eastern wall. The range is short, but we can rain some rocks on them when they try to set up ladders.”

With a salute, Higgins ran off to see to it.

As Aaron made his way out of the keep, he found a group of volunteer citizens that were running goods as needed. “Take these crates of oil to the north wall. Flint as well. We will give them a surprise the next time they rush the walls.”

The crates were filled with bottles of oil, some containing rags hanging out of the lip of the bottles. The crates were placed every fifty paces by the volunteers.

The enemy had taken to the field and was staging for the first wave against the walled town. The goblinoid army seemed to have no end, after all those that had been thrown against the walls and died thus far. The field outside the walls was littered with the fallen to the point the attackers would have to step on their own dead as they charged.

The enemy was set to charge, but maintained their positions. From the rear strode three robed figures. Arms stretched out in front of them, hand reached with fingers pointing towards the walls. With a sudden jolt, Aaron and those soldiers on the wall were nearly knocked to the ground. The ground around the wall began to quake. The sound of stone grinding rose over the exclamations of the defenders, as the very wall began to split apart.

“Sergeant! Aim for the robes and fire catapults!” Aaron rang out barely over the sound of the ground shaking. The breach in the northern wall was growing, as the rocks where being split apart through the tremors in the ground.

The northern catapult was pushed in to the position called out by the engineer team, then fired its load, as the tremors began to move further in to the town. Four rocks the size of a man’s head were launched in to the air towards the enemy. The aim was off slightly. The boulders ammunition struck the ground in front of the enemy or tore in to the enemy lines to the left of the robed men.

With little notice to what even occurred, the men with outstretched arms continued their chant. Holding himself from falling to the ground from the tremors, Aaron called out “Two points to the left! Fire again before they bring the whole wall down!”

The catapult fired its load once more, as the tremors moved further in to the town, shaking the engineer team off of their feet. The rocks flew true, driving in to the robed men, ceasing the chanting. The ground continued to shake, then slowly the tremors receded, then stopped completely. Several buildings within the walls had collapsed, a half dozen soldiers and citizens were crushed under falling objects or from a fall from the walls, and the northern wall had a rent in it. The breached in the wall was large enough to allow one or two goblins to enter at a time. Fortunately, rubble surrounded the hole, forcing any attacker to have to climb over it to enter.

With a single flick of Durnin’s hand, the queued army began its charge towards the breech. Defenders quickly took back to the wall and fired on the enemy. Aaron had called up reservist from the keep to act as a swing unit, guarding the breach. A dozen armed soldiers stood ready to face anything that entered the breech, several woodsmen stood behind them to offer ranged support.

As the enemy moved towards the breech, defenders rained arrows down on the passing attackers. Bottles of oil had their rags lit with fire and tossed down on the screaming goblins and orcs.

The first sight for those defending the breech from within was a goblin wreathing in pain as its body was completely consumed in fire. It fell face forward through the rubble just inside the wall. Swords and spears raised as several more goblins and orcs rushed in, these had avoided arrows and the flames from above.

At the enemy line, Durnin looked up at Kulgin with a dissatisfied look. “I had expected you to bring me swift justice. My patience wears thin.” After a pause, “As do our resources.”

“The wall will fall. Then you will have your revenge.” The gravelly voice of the giant chief retorted.

“I noticed you maintain your own kind well behind the line. Put them to use by break down the gate. The breach is not wide enough. We need another entry point.”

With a sidelong glance, Kulgin remained silent.

“Pull them up and tear down that gate. I will not say it again…” Durnin seethed between clenched teeth.

Breathing deeply the giant indicated with his hand. Four giants began marching towards the north gate.

The battle for the breech was in full swing. Defenders from within were working to keep the enemy bottled up, while those on the walls above where raining death down. A horn blew causing Aaron to turn back from the fight towards the enemy lines. From the tree line four giants moved with long steps towards the walls. His sword arced and a gnoll that was climbing a scaling ladder slumped over, then fell to the ground, dead.

“Archers! Every other harry those giants!” Aaron called out, as Higgins made his way along the line of defenders on the walls, directing every other to focus on the newly arriving enemy. Arrow fired out at the lumbering giants. One giant was struck through the eye and slowly, painfully it fell forward and wreathed, until it stilled.

The remaining three giants neared the gate. The two towers that Aaron had ordered created earlier were evacuated. The archers stationed to them, used the planks provided to retreat back to the walls. As the last of the archers moved off, the ropes that removed structural support from the towers, were pulled which caused the towers to tumble to the ground. Oil was quickly thrown on the rubble of the towers, then were set on fire. The wood sprung up in flames as the three remaining giants reached the gate, obstructing them from getting near.

In the confusion a dozen archers all focused on one of the giants filling it with arrows like a pen quill. The giant succumbed and fell in to the flames. The other two giants used their large callused hands to begin picking up the wood where they could to clear it. The archers continued to fire arrows in to the two giants as they began pushing and slamming their fists in to the wooden gate.

Kulgin growled as he witnessed his clan members dying on the wall. Giants did not reproduce at the rate humans did, and the clan was already too small. Looking down at Durnin, he saw the robed human speaking, as if to himself, but not in any language the giant chieftain could understand.

After a moment the Shadow Druid stopped his muttering and an ever so slight grin began to appear, though he remained silent.

From within the walls of the town chaos already reigned. Citizens ran about trying to help those injured during the tremors and support the soldiers. Armed soldiers ran to and from their posts, the injured making their way towards the keep for treatment. And from within some of the homes, domestic animals began to become feral. As if by some magic, normally docile pets began attacking their owners. Several of the elderly and young were torn apart by their favorite pets. Those capable of and prepared to, began battling their once loyal companions.

During the confusion and combat along the north wall, the enemy positioned along the eastern wall began moving towards the town.

The battle for Grey Oaks was reaching its peak.

[sweetlikesplenda]

Part VIII: The Awakening of a Favored

The town was a torrent of activity. Soldiers and citizens deemed able enough to man the walls were facing goblins and orcs trying to crest the walls on the north and east sides, other attackers sought the breach in the north wall as giants were in the midst of pounding down the wooden gate.

Cutting down another orc who had just climbed to the point of his head appearing over the lip of the wall, Aaron called for an abandonment of the north wall.

“To me! To me! Orderly retreat to the barricades!”

The defenders along the wall began to fall back giving space for more and more attackers to climb the face of the wall. With a kick, a soldier knocked over a barrel containing oil. The walkway along the top of the battlement was soon covered in it. The thick substance made its way along to other barrels of oil that were placed along the battlements. The last soldier to quit the wall threw a torch which landed in the oil then leapt down stairs.

The torch hit the oil causing flames to spring up and quickly move along the wall. The flames reached the other barrels of oil and before any of the attackers could flee back down the ladders or jump down to the courtyard, a fireball erupted along the wall sending charred goblins and orcs back over the wall. The intensity of the blast blew stone away from the wall sending ladders flying along with those currently climbing them.

As Aaron rallied soldiers from the ruined north wall behind the chest high debris that had been set up in a “U” shape to corral the enemy, he called back those guarding the breach in the wall. Once the last soldier was over the debris, oil was thrown on to it and torches set the wood on fire. The north gate, after the beating it received from the giant’s fists, soon splintered and broke down. The enemy now streamed in to the town through two openings.

With nowhere to continue, the advance force was pushed directly in to the flames by those rushing in behind them. When the hoard stopped, caught between those pushing in behind them and the blaze from the lit debris, Aaron signaled and defending archers fired from behind the barrier. Orcs, goblins, bugbears, and gnolls fell to human arrow and bolt fire. As the enemy tried to assemble itself and charge the firey wall that stood between them and finishing off the town’s defenses, Aaron signaled again and bottles of firey oil were thrown in to their ranks. The screams and the smell of burning goblinoids filled the ears and noses of humans who readied themselves for an upcoming assault.

The fire from the barrier was dying down as the wood quickly burned. The enemy lacked real leadership, but in their fright from their masters behind and the fire before them, they were being driven in to a maddened state.

Knowing this may be the last stand, Aaron took out the red colored knight chess piece that hung from his necklace. The object had been a gift left for him a couple of years earlier. A gift from the Lady of Strategy in a time of need for Aaron. He held the holy symbol in his hand looking over the intricate detail of the chess piece. The smoothed red stone with the small diamonds in its eye sockets. Time seemed to slow for the young man as arrows sailed over head as defenders tried to cause as much pain on their attackers before they charged.

Placing the knight piece to his lips he whispered a simple prayer. “My Lady, give me the strength to save these people.”

It was all he had thought of since being asked to take on the role of defender of the town. To save these poor people. People who were victims of the fantastical ideas of a man that never valued them.

Those standing next to their leader noticed a small smile build larger and larger on the young man’s face. Slowly a light seemed to encase him. His prayers began to intensify. His lips moved as if calling on divine protections that battle clergy might use. As he spoke the power seemed as though they came to him naturally, as if it was second nature to him. The superstitious might have believe the man was using magic, but all could see wisps dance about him as soft tendrils and motes of light hung about the man. While some of the soldier’s looked at him astonished, most had a radiating feeling of calm and benevolence in his presence. As he stood in full view of the enemy, this young man seemed more commanding, more confident, and more powerful than any had ever seen him.

His body coursed with additional powers from The Lady of the Lanceboard. His muscles bulked and hardened further, his endurance seem to increase, his armor seemed to take on a new strength and shine, and his blade seemed stronger and sharper then what some might think possible. As the enemy began its wild charge towards the smoking remains of the barriers Aaron freed “Bastion of Light” of its scabbard and the blade danced through the air in his hand.

Aaron was as if a man possessed with skill beyond his own. Artfully he ducked and weaved in to the enemy. Sword and axe were deflected off his shield, as his own sword shattered armor and spear. The defenders were momentarily stunned watching the man work destruction on their enemies, before quickly following their leader’s charge.

The enemy was stunned momentarily, then broke and ran. Goblin, orc, gnoll, and bugbear dropped weapons and fell to their knees or rushed back towards the gate or breach to make their exit.

With the enemy in retreat, men were quickly detailed to the eastern wall to aid the weary soldiers resisting the attack there, or to aid the citizens terrorized by attacks from their once docile pets.

Areas of the town were ablaze, people screamed as a dog or other animal went rabid against them, and soldier yelled war cries as they faced off against an enemy. Among all this a lone figure emerged from the shattered northern gate. The two giants detailed to knock down the gate moved to block the way out. Aaron’s sword came up as he calmly walked towards the two towering giants that blocked his path.

From the tree line Kulgin watched as his fellow clan members moved to intercept the man making his way out of the town. A strong wind blew up smoke, obscuring the battlefield for a few moments. When the wind once again cleared the view of the town the chief of the giants saw his two clansmen lying dead just outside the wall. The lone man wiped his blade as he continued on towards the goblinoid camp.

“This isn’t what you so -elegantly- described would be a butcher. Unless you mean our butcher?!” The giant chief growled.

“Silence, Kulgin.” Durnin offered in quiet hatred, lifting his hand. “I will destroy this one, as I should have done earlier. Then we will be done with this mess.”

The robed druid left the side of the giant chief and began moving towards the approaching man, many from his goblinoid army retreating past him to the tree line.

The two figures strode towards each other. One hundred paces away. Fifty. Twenty. Both stopped almost simultaneously.

“This ends.” Aaron said, trying to appear calm after the horrors of the long days of battle and fatigue.

With a wicked grin from under his hood “So, it does.” Pulling his hood back. “This was never supposed to go this far. You were never supposed to be here.” The druid said as he began to pace back and forth.

Aaron’s eyes followed the robed figure back and forth, interrupting him. “And yet, I am.”

“Sad how I held your life in my hands when Turnak brought you in. And now, once again, I hold it.” The man sneered.

“I am still standing.” Aaron answered, as he lifted his shield and sword in to a ready position, searching for what the druid was stalling for.

“Everything I do, I do for my god! So many teach of Silvanus’ tender side. They forget his teaching, that while as a last resort, force can and should be used. To protect against the felling of the forests, especially those with sacred significance, I take up arms!”

The robed man continued to pace, his speed picking up slightly during his explanation. “I did what others would not dare! -I- did what most would frown upon what most would consider a betrayal of what Silvanus stands for. -I- made pacts, performed rituals, took vows that most would consider an affront! And for what?” His voice lowered to barely above a whisper. “Because -I- am faithful to -Him-. I would give all to protect what is sacred.” As he spoke a green tint covered the robed man. Twirling his hands he caused the light to dance in his palm. “The land empowers me through these pacts. You cannot harm me while I harness the power of the very earth! Shadow Druids, they call us. Evil, they say. How is defending the very ground you all walk on evil?!”

As the man finished, Aaron noticed movement behind him. Spinning around, he did not have time to dodge away; but brought his shield up just in time as a massive boar smashed in to him, sending him off his feet and on to his back. Rolling to his right, he avoided a bite from the massive animal. A dire boar, with spikes along the ridge of its back, stood snorting at him, pawing the ground.

Throwing a brief glance to Durnin, Aaron saw the man weaving his hands about in intricate motions, as vines sped, creeping along the ground from the tree line towards Aaron’s ankles. The armored man rolled and pushed to his feet as the giant boar began to charge again.

Aaron took the blow head on and was pushed back to the ground. The boar stood over the prone man, its weight bearing down on him, teeth gnashing at his face. Aaron’s left arm pushed up at the creature’s throat. Using all his strength he was able to keep the boar’s mouth inches from his face. The animal’s hot breath washed over him and a wave of nausea nearly caused him to retch at the smell. Aaron reached out for his dropped sword that lie inches from his right hand’s reach.

The boar’s mouth inched closer to biting at his throat, as Aaron stretched his right arm towards his dropped sword, using every muscle he could deploy to keep the monster at bay and reach for his weapon. The creature’s eyes bulged in maniacal glee for the inevitable kill. Abruptly the creature’s eyes rolled up and went vacant, as Aaron grasped his sword, reversed it, and drove it in to the beast’s spine. With its body going limp, Aaron rolled it over and away from him, so it would not crush him in its death throws.

Standing slowly, Aaron placed his right boot on the creature’s side and withdrew his sword from its body. Durnin stood watching, his hands going still and his chanting coming to a stop. He watched as Aaron rose, alive. With a scream of rage for his lost companion, he threw his arms wide. The mass of vines that had been making their way out from the forest suddenly flared up in to the air, forming a net. Pushing his hands forward the vine net rushed towards Aaron to ensnare him.

The light that surrounded Aaron grew in intensity again. With an upward swipe of his sword from right to left, the vines were severed before they could encompass his body. What life and will that was being transferred in to the vines to control them ceased and the creeping plants shriveled and fell to the earth.

The green tinted light that surrounded the Shadow Druid flickered and faded as the earth quivered slightly. As if a hand had reached up and withdrew the power that surrounded Durnin, the light went completely out.

With two deft steps forward, Aaron thrust his blade through the chest of the druid. Durnin looked down at the blood spilling out of the wound from the sword, then up at Aaron. A frown of disbelief and denial crossed his face.

“I was fulfilling my vows…I was in the right…” The druid sputtered out softly.

“It seems Silvanus does not approve of your methods, druid.” He said softly as he thrust the blade through Durnin’s body down to the hilt. Then quickly withdrew the blade. The Druid’s legs faltered and he fell heavily to the ground. The last of his life spilling out into the earth.

A horn blew from the tree line and the goblinoid army still assaulting the eastern wall began a hasty retreat. Aaron turned in time to see Kulgin stare hard at him, before turning and disappearing in to the woods. The lumbering figures of other giants followed their leader, as did many of the goblinoids who no longer had a leader to drive them on. To the south another horn sounded several times. Shortly after columns of Cormyrian soldiers entered the clearing. A cheer went up among the defenders at the sight of the retreating enemy and the approach of friendly soldiers chasing off the fleeing army.

Aaron made his way back to the Keep. At his arrival Sergeant Higgins approached and saluted. “Sir, I don’t know how we did it. But, we did it!” His elated tone deflated some as the two men stood looking over all the fallen, both enemy and friend.

Aaron nodded a couple of times, fatigue taking its tool. “We did it….We did it. Sergeant, call up the men and do a head count. We need to know where the men are and who survived. Perform a roll call, please. Then detail a group to collect the fallen.”

The young knight made his way to the south facing walls and watched as column after column of Cormyrian soldiers approached the gate, a line of Purple Dragon Knights at their head.

Leadership passed to the high Purple Dragon Knight. After debriefing, Aaron was allowed several days of bed rest to recover from the ordeal, as were all the soldiers who survived. Sir Highthorne was able to be out of bed at the same time Aaron was. The two shared a meal together, both simply happy the other was alive.

The visit to Philip’s old associates was cancelled and the two made ready to make for home. As the two lead their horses through the town, the people and soldiers that had stood in defense lined the main road out of town. Waves, handshakes, and hugs were offered as they made their way to the southern gates. At the end of the line of town folk stood three figures, a middle aged man and woman, as well as a young woman.

Aaron smiled at Angel, who ran up and embraced him. She had asked to come with him and Aaron had agreed. He shook the hand of her Uncle Harold and waved his goodbye to Aunt Judith, then helped her to mount Rook. The young man mounted up behind her and the three began their journey towards Arabel.