Title: Wolves on a Silver Porcupine
Date: Mid Trilan, 1332 Avard
Synopsis: The ME Team and a small army of orcs prevent the werewolves from fleeing Teras.
Mid-morning of the 17th of Trilan, 1332 Avard.
Had not Corrin been on the roof, the ME team would not have known the werewolves were trying to escape through the fog. The team made a quick decision to use the Eye of Galgiran, to move their orc force just ahead of the werewolves and wait for them in the fog.
The fog was quite thick, and the werewolves were moving at a fast lope away from Teras and the Count's Manor they had been using as a base of operations. The werewolves weren't quite sure what they were seeing when they glimpsed two score of orcs laying down on their backs, and behind the two score of orcs there were six score more of orcs. The mass of orcs looked like nothing so much as a tall hedge, complete with eleven foot long poles.
The two score orcs on their backs unleashed with their footbows, all concentrating on the right wing of the werewolf forces. The orc bowmen reloaded and launched a second volley as quickly as they could. The moment the second set of arrows left the bows, the armored orcs rushed to cover the archers, followed by the spearmen.
By then, the werewolves had collided with the orcish line. Arkhan's troop seemed to suffer the worst casualties, taking the brunt of the attack, and yet holding their own against well over a hundred seven foot tall, slavering half-man and half-wolf murderers who seemed only slowed down by silver weapons.
The silver weapons the Baron-and-the-Bishop had gifted the ME team worked hard at turning the tide of teeth and claws.
The ME team, mounted, helped coordinate the orcish troops, shoring up the line where they could, and adding their own particular touch to the chaos. Corrin's giant spider thwipped lone werewolves where it could, binding them up in coccoons. Arkhan and Aeron's giant lizards tossed werewolves about or crunched them with teeth. All the while, Corrin's small crossbow bolts flew into the massive pack of werewolves, singling out leaders, alphas, and leftenants where she could. Aeron's prayers were loud and thunderous, reaching over the din, bringing the spirit of resolve to the orcish troops and redoubling their strength. Arkhan served as a beacon, leading the werewolves into various feints and traps, and breathing fire upon a large swath of werewolves with his draconic heritage. Greff, no stranger to danger, waited and watched for openings and then struck with savagery when not leading his troop.
Orcs fell, and died. Their green blood was almost lost in the mid-morning light, fog, and grass – save where it painted dark wolf fur with a brilliant green. Werewolf blood was bright red, and splashed across everything.
Bright purple erupted along one flank of the werewolf forces, and dozens of them collapsed in slumber, courtesy of Corrin's special grenades.
One of the werewolf alphas used a terrible green gem upon a segment of the orcish forces, knocking them backwards as though they had been smote by a giant. The alpha was quickly lost in the brawling melee, but Corrin moved her troops into position along the right of the werewolf line, and began to roll them up with the aid of Arkhan's weakened troops. The power of the Dragon God Himself flowed through Arkhan's troops, and though weakened, they fought twice as hard as the other orcs.
The ME team thought that they had a slow win, right up until the right flank of the orcish troops began to convulse. The lycanthropy had spread into them more than into the other orcs, and they began to turn on their fellow orcs.
Greff, though fighting in the midst of the battle, did not give up on his orcs for a moment. He extorted the others of the ME team and all the other orcs to help him, even in the midst of the battle, forcing the orcs turning to wolves to hold onto their sense of self. It helped considerably that the orcs had already developed a fondness for dog, but they faltered, unable to fight werewolves or becoming werewolves for long, agonizing moments.
The werewolves shifted attacks when Demon went after one alpha in particular. Seeing how the wolves responded to the threat, the ME team shifted their tactics to take out that alpha. Long, grinding moments went by as the orcs rallied against a single target. The blessings of the dwarven god Galgiran, the Soul Forger, came to one of the orc troops. Once sworn enemies of the dwarves, the orcs accepted change, and pushed forward to prevent the other werewolves from protecting their alpha.
A puff of purple powder knocked the alpha and several leftenants and leaders out cold.
The werewolf organization dissolved, turning into a free-for-all, while the orcs maintained their discipline, following the ME team in for the kill. Some of the werewolves that had been running away from Teras had sacks full of something, and a few used those sacks as clubs. Clubs or not, the werewolves went down, one by one.
And then the battle was over, the fog eerily silent compared with the melee from moments before. A werewolf whined and then was put down. An orc moaned for help. And the fog rolled over them all.
Aeron quickly pulled a scroll from his case, and began intoning the hour-long ritual to the gods that would release the afflicted from the curse of lycanthropy. The orcish troop with the wolf fever neede quite a bit of support to hold off their transformation, as their alpha was still alive.
The ME team stood over the alphas that were still living, all of whom were knocked unconscious by the purple gas or were cocooned up by Demon.
Corrin looked over the small green stone and the steel ring she had found on one of the alphas, the tallest and leanest werewolf she had ever seen. The green stone had been used to knock back a whole line of orcs, and almost hummed with restrained power. The ring was something else again, with a lightness to it that was odd.
The fog hid the bodies of men, for the dead werewolves had reverted back to their original forms. There were body parts of men everywhere. The unconscious, still-living werewolves were easy to find for they were still in a half-man and half-wolf state.
One of the sacks cried, “Help me!”
Corrin looked into one of the sacks with horror, discovering elven children within.
Another sack held the broken remains of a man.
The next sack held unconscious, beaten children.
And the next.
And the next sack held a girl almost a woman gibbering madly with the whites of her eyes apparent.
All the sacks, held people.
Mid-morning of the 17th of Trilan, 1332 Avard.
RPG System: Dungeons and Dragons, 4th Edition.
All characters have 41,750XP (13th level).
Dinner was link-dogs and maccaroni-and-cheese. Mrm…
Ross rolled a set of double 1's for his first attack with his orc troop, and another set of double 1's for his second attack, so they were fighting at half strength all through the battle. Luck of the draw had Bill's orcs turn to wolves. The battle looked pretty grim for awhile. The group seemed ready to just retire their characters, make them all dedicated werewolf hunters, and ensure that the group never, ever fought werewolves again. They stuck through it, though, and managed to perservere. The battle would have been much harder – perhaps a loss – had not Sommer used the purple powder grenades and knocked out the main alpha. I never specified whom the main alpha was, but apparently his actions gave him away. :)
we almost got so wrecked! It's weird to not use just our characters in battle. We have our basic strategies down, but with the addition of the orc troops at our disposal, we are placed in a new battle setting. It makes for a nice and challenging change. That's what keeps dnd exciting to me. We all know how to fight a werewolf and what the dangers as well, but when we are thrown something different (new battles, new monsters, new terrain, new motivation) it really flushes out a character. When I think of Dungeons and Dragons, I don't think of epic battles or phat lootz. I think of how an individual develops a character and makes them come alive. We all have those characters that are dear to our heart. My 3 characters ( and trust me.. ive had like 50) that i hold onto are Genious Neo (Neo for short) played in my first dnd campaign. 2nd ed barbarian. The fighting was basic in those days, but the way i flushed him out from just a name on paper became the love I developed for dnd to this day. My next was Zanthar. An undead necromancer. I put him through internal struggles and role played the shit out of him making him come alive to me like I was him during the campaign. My last and prob fav is Warrum the Broad. Warrum is so dear to me that I take on his persona, or try to, at ren fest. Played in the Luna Wolves campaign, I took this character to the next level. I have written some short stories about him, now lost in college notebooks that I unfortunatly threw away.
But now, Greff has become one of my most memorable characters. I am anxious to see what is in store for him. I hope to role play him even harder and make him memorable for not only myself, but for the world of Gaeleth as well!!
I can't even imagine how a personal narrative for Greff might read. He started as one of the meanest brawlers in Teras, ready to beat a man to death just for calling him 'green', without ever crossing that line from 'short temper' to 'enjoys killing'. Greff was drafted off of the streets into the shadows of the city guard, watched his home streets turn into a lawless mess, left for a chance at riches, and has returned to Teras as a hero, co-leading an army. He's gone from, “I can't NOT punch someone to death” to “Punch your fists into the air”. Awesome tale, Bill.