AMIA ARCHIVE • View topic - Brogendenstein

In the late afternoon of one particular cycle, Hialti and Kajik would break their sojourn in the Brogdenstein camp and leave the snowy island altogether. They'd return deep into the evening, laden with the fruits of their journey; slung over either of Hialti's brawny shoulders would be a fat boar and a wolf that looked like it too had lived the good life. After presenting the dead animals to the women, he'd stand about as skinning and other preparations commenced, and deliver the following oration in his deep and powerful, but eloquent voice:

"Hail, ring-breaker, sisters, and brothers, I return from the lands of the weaker tribes, where the land is kissed by the cloud's wetness and the stacked-stones tower even higher than I! Be glad and call the old from their dream-rest, for even the Stalking-Crane need not go without flesh to fill his gut this cycle, for the Battle-Father has given us a tusked-berserker and flea's steed both to feast upon! Arduous was the hunt, and even the battle-dew of my own brawn was spilled, but with the biting feather-stalks of Kajik whistling to my aid, every one of these beasts and the knaves of Gobel were felled!"

Kajik returned in tow, behind the brawny Hiatli. He too carried a few smaller pheasant they encountered. After handing these over to the women he also unrolled the skins of the wolf and boar so that it may be tanned. Unlike his boastful companion he only asked quietly where his sister, Yani was.

Whatever the answer he left the comforts of the fire and the protection of the stacked stones of the Dwarves and went out to check his traps. On his return another several rabbits, and a beaver are added to the mix.

He does not boast of his achievements he only accepts a small bowl of the stew made from the boar and wolf as his thanks.

Later in the evening by the fire he is seen taking the sinew and gut from the leftover carcasses and tying a new pair of snow shoes, grunting with the effort of tying tight enough.

Rumours slowly ciriculate of an attack within the Citadel, and against the walls. The orcs were repelled but what happened within was a different story entirely. Tales of demons charging through the citadel, slaughtering and butchering the inhabbitants is discussed at length by sailors who claim they were there buying supplies, most extol the virtues of the dwarves that managed to repel the attack whilst others claim the citadel has been gutted entirely.

But the rumours aren't all bad. Some claim that an army of humans and dwarves sent by the Lord's Alliance arrived at the citadel last cycle, and now they're mobilising to move on the forces that gather in Brogendenstein. Others seem to think it's just a band of lost dwarves looking for a new home. Those that investigate the port will indeed see an increase of activity, three ships have docked in the port and bands of humans and dwarves are seen unloading the stores and taking them to the citadel.

Something is surely afoot within the stunty halls of the dwarves.

After all the commotion finally faded, Runa recruits help from fellow faenor Raela and newcomer Jaer to assist with the wounded and cleansing the halls from taint of the attackers.
After everything is more or less cleared, she tries to gather names of those that are missing, and possible witnesses as to what might have happened to them.
After that is done, she tries to get to all who are responsible with keeping protective wards around the Citadel and find out what caused their temporary failure.
Only after all of this is done, she goes to properly clear herself up and change into clean clothes. Upon hearing from the guards other Councilors are discussing something with tribals outside, she goes to check what's going on. However, she leaves relatively soon, exhaustion finally catching up with her. She spends whatever strength she has in helping to secure living room for newcomers, and then returns to her quarters and collapses on the bed.

The beating of drums and the howling horns of the enemy fill the air of Brogendenstein as the hoard makes it way toward Barak Runedar. Scouts report that a small contingent seperates from the hoard and heads toward the Snowy Forest, into the caves, but the remaining host still vastly outnumbers those that man the walls of the dwarvern citadel. The barbarians within the camp keep their eyes on the grand Spire watching and waiting for an ancient enemy that might reveal itself, and set the fate of Barak Runedar once and for all.

The mood of the dwarves is defiant, there is no talk of defeat, only the enjoyment that will come when "the lads" get to bury their axes into orc scum. The might of the hoard will fall on Barak Runedar within a week, the skirmishes have ended, and now the true battle will be waged.

On the sixteenth hour the Lord Theodorius' Hammer, a small war galley named in honor of the second Justicar of Kohlingen, arrives at Brogendenstein Port. A banner is displayed prominently on the main mast, bearing the silver dragon of Kohlingen across from a golden lion on a field of blue encircled by silver fleur-de-lis.

It appears the Lady Justicar of Kohlingen has named the commander of the City of Light, being no other than the same knight who oversaw the crushing victory against the beastmen horde but a tenday ago. As the lines are secured and the walkway laid out by the sailors, a horn is sounded, soon joined by a second, and detachment of fourty men-at-arms march to the gates of Barak Runedar behind 'The Lion' under the proudly displayed banners.

The current present strength of Kohlingen now consisting of the ten members of the ilmaterite clergy and fourty soldiers, next to the small patrols of the Triadic Knights and Order of Mages being conducted upon the snow covered island. In addition to the force, the parts of two heavy ballistas and a trebuchet are carried off the vessel and stacked near the gates leading to the hold to await assembly.

Kohlingen has arrived.

(//dm approved//)

Reddok is seen stomping around the Port and within the walls of the citadel. Most his time is held within meetings of various kin, allies, scouts, and friends of Barak Runedar all gathered and milling around in preparations of the coming attacks. He tries as he can to make rounds through the complex to keep a close eye on the goings on. The very existence of Barak Runedar will be tested, bent, and beat on.. these preparations and people gathered are what stands between prosperity or being ground under the heel of a frozen mountain and orc kissing demon lovers.

Having never earned his respect Reddok has held no love for Robert, yet he can't help but feel some measure of gratitude for the manner in which the fellow tends to business within the port. While the men and dwarves of the two factions don't interact very closely while seeing to their orders, there are no altercations as everyone does their best to coexist in the ever cramped port yard while completing their duties. The Barbarians of the Blue Bear tribe however are bristling for a fight as they tend their weapons and speak within their circle.

After yet another round of letter writing and couriers being hurried out of the citadel Reddok can be seen with a large group of workers, miners, and some of the newly arrived Stonegate clan poking and prodding around the sea wall off beyond the port yard. With a detailed map of the lower mines and tunnels they seem to be taking much notice of the sea levels and positioning of what's below according to the map.

The tall, goldkin, Aaliyah, delivers one hundred forty-six logs of varying types to the Citadel to finish off the spikes being cut by the troops stationed there.

//I have them still in my trades box, Silent, can hand them off to you at any time you like. Did not want to leave them to be grabbed by a reset.

Far away from the colds and wind of Brogendenstein, within the strong walls of Kohlingen Keep, the doors of a study are drawn shut. Lathander's first rays shone in the small window overlooking the Trackless Sea, illuminating the Magister's office. Various texts were strewn about the desk, along with letters, records, and various other documents that were just barely organized. There simply was not enough time for such trifling matters as stacking papers and books. Not in these dark days.

Far away from the dwarven hold and the vile horde that so nearly pressed upon them, Ulrik began to work his magic. While the walls of stone soon to be cast were a matter of conjuration, Ulrik now turned his mind upon was something he was all too familiar with. A work of divination.

Staring into the dancing lights of his focus circle, Ulrik's mind began to open. Words of magic were intoned and the magician's hand waved through the air. Words resonating and hands manipulated the Weave about him. It was a soft touch, in the mystical sense. It was more a caress of the Weave, than the forceful push or shove of an inexperienced or unpracticed apprentice. Ulrik's words and gestures did not form a spell on the Weave. No, Ulrik's work was far beyond a mere spell. Far beyond the traditional realm of spell-casting. It was as if a seed of understanding was being opened, and was directed to grow and ascend the strands of magic that was the very Weave. Ulrik's mind focused on one thing. One being. One target. Seeking out legends, myths, memories, rote fact and anything else known to minds both mortal and immortal about one specific being. Conjuring up visions, listening to the whispering voices upon the Weave. Over the very Weave, and to the very edge of time itself and beyond, the Magister's mind traveled, guided by this Seed of Magic that sprung forth from his very self. His Third Eye.

This was his element. His specialty. His obsession. He sought to understand the true threat to the dwarves of Barak Runedar. He wielded his magic - voice resounding within the arcane tower of Kohlingen Keep - to this one purpose. It was not the horde of orcs, giants, and demons that descended the mount.

It was the "Walking Blizzard" of Brogendenstein.

A Xixecal.

At noon, Malandria was travelling to Brogendenstein to meet Ulrik and speak of the increase in height of the walls. The both of them casted Wall of Stone spells to increase the height, so that they match the height of the walls atop of the hills.

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As if on cue, once they were done with such, Elana and Fey'ana arrived to help with the next steps of fortifying Barak Runedar. They started with creating walkways and battlements on top of the just height increased, solid stone walls with stone shape spells.

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Once the top of the walls were properly shaped and inspected, the three druids moved to the wooden gate to turn it to ironwood, making it stronger and also fire proof.

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Only after using enough spells to turn the whole gate to ironwood, they moved outside the gate to examine the wall from outside and the wooden spikes which Ser Robert and his men had installed along it. In a long procedure, they turned each of the long spikes into ironwood aswell.

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After the long work, the druids retreated to the campfire and spoke with Ser Robert about the trenches. While the three of them were resting by the fire, preparing new spells and relaxing some, he marked down where the trenches should be on a map for them.

After their extended rest and warming themselves up some, they moved back to the wall to create trenches along the outside of the wall in front of the spikes.

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At last, Elana used a spike Growth spell on the trenches and filled them with sharp spikes on which Malandria generously poured several vials of giant scorpion poison. This to prevent the enemy to use the trenches for cover.

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After this their work ended... and new began...

Grimdur had been more even broody than usual of late, the arrival of some new dwarves to the hold, which he would have previously been overjoyed to entertain, in his rather moody way; had fallen by the way side. His singular focus was the mines. Dumathoin's riches, and splendour. He was stockpiling them, refining and gathering ores and metals to place into Barak Rundedar's enchanted vaults. War was coming. And if the dwarves were to be outnumbered, then they would atleast be prepared.

He was a worried sort, though hid it beneath a veil of brazen defiance. Defeat looked more, and more likely. But, so too did hope kindle in his heart with the presence of loyal allies and goodly folk coming to the aid of the hold. His scouts had been arrayed to send ravens when the bulk of the Horde was nearing. To tell them of enemy leaders, giants and number of siege weaponry. His mace had been blessed, and his quarrels restocked. His armour was readied, and his old warhelm being reforged. Traps, planning and vast walls of stone, magic and mundane were being prepared. Stakes and pallisades being prepared and the stocks of food were plentiful.

The old dwarf looked up from the refiner's pot, hungry and worn. A pile of glittering bars ready for the smiths to forge into ballistae-bolt-heads, and he had begun to have cast iron pots errected at the top of the mineshafts, they to be filled with boiling oil, and tar when the battle came. Any foolish enough to try and rise the shafts into the hold, would find themselves doused in oil, fire and bolts.
The walls of the mines too, were being patrolled. Ears placed to the rock for the tell-tale sounds of enemy picks and sapper teams. Traps being dug and wired.

War, to Grimdur atleast, felt like a tense string cast in the air. Waiting to be cut.

After discussing with the council, at the weekly meet. A plan of action was decided. As the orcs will be setting up their own encampments and supplies. The dwarves, and allies will be sending out scouts to locate the Horde's resource stashes. With the view of getting the locations and portalling into Brogendenstein's wilderness with a strike team. This team would then quickly hit as many concentrations of supplies as possible making supporting the two-thousand strong army on thin supplies as difficult as possible in the frozen tundra of the North.

Grimdur has sent missives out to the Kohlingen Commander, Warknights and Shrine Leadership in turn, asking that any skilled scouts be made ready to locate the enemy supply lines. Dwarves will move to silently capture the node near the North Eastern Forest to use for infiltrating these scouts, and eventually the strike team itself. Noted at the bottom of this missive is a side note; that if any archers seek Orc-Bane arrows, or Giant-Bane bolts seek out Grimdur himself for supplies.

(( Given the festive period, this can be delayed as players and DM's will obviously be busy. I just wanted to note it here so that it can be made clear what the plan of action is! Those concerned with factions, and Red Snow event, please post who is Commander of which faction in this thread; http://www.amiaworld.net/phpBB3/viewtopic.php?f=56&t=69280&p=1143428#p1143428, to make the chain of command easy to see!))

Nearing nightfall, the gates of Barak Runedar would open a crack for a few moments. In this amount of time, at least thirty very small levitating semi-tangible 'eyes' would depart the dwarven hold and scatter out through the wilderness. Many, if not most, may very well go unseen. They would not seem deterred in the wilds of Brogendenstein at night, and seem to follow very precise directions.

The eyes of a magician are upon the surrounding wilderness of Barak Runedar. Seeking and watching. Watching and waiting...

The forges of Barak Runedar rage relentlessly into the night and long into the next morning. The artisans of the Anvilmar clan fill up cache after cache with arms and armour for the defenders above. The aging patriarch of the clan endures the fumes of the mines as they flow out of the ventilation shafts. The heat from the mines cools the snow to reveal the jagged rocks of the mountain, resilient to the gathering tide of darkness concealed in the huge snow drifts.

The Barbarians do not look happy with the arrival of the newcomers. A small unofficial picket is established by the group, a number of warriors watch the entrance to their camp, and turn away the vast majority of people attempting to gain entrance. The lucky few that do are the Councillors of Barak Runedar and a dwarf named Strom. Women certainly aren’t received. When night falls the Barbarians gather in the centre of their camp to listen to the epics of Falstaff, and the other long dead heroes of their clan.

Beyond the walls the enemy slowly but surely prepares. The orcs look to the Spires. The gathering tide will soon break on the walls of the Citadel.

Last edited by Jes on Mon, Dec 24 2012, 20:17 PM, edited 1 time in total.

Zelly, the familiar copper kin, spends the days going through her many books. She writes long reports and sends them to the Council of Barak Runedar. Each piece of her visible research appears to be oriented to draconic studies, with particular focus on white dragons and their abilities. Once she's written down every piece of information she can think to put to parchment for the benefit of their troops, she turns to a new activity that takes the port.

Claiming to be under Sir Robert's orders to do so, Zelly takes her ancestral copper dragon form and begins to work with the encamped Kohlinger soldiers, drilling and guiding them as she attempts to help them work out the best strategy to ground a raging dragon. She flies overhead, dives down at the soldiers, roars with mimicked rage, and once even breathes a thick and sticky gas at them which causes any unable to withstand it to move much slower. She urges them to do their best to ground her when she "attacks" them, often using her own incorrigible taunting to push them even in the middle of one such drill. Regardless of the weapons or tools that they use to get the job done, the copper kin does not complain if she becomes harmed during these drills - and anytime they succeed in taking her down, she pants heavily and grins at them triumphantly through the reflexive grimace set on her face.

She offers the opportunity to participate in such drills to the dwarves, as well - when she's recovered, of course.

((DM approved!))

Tuomas, having spent a while working on potions of True Striking for the weapons crews at Barak Runedar would seek out whom he should speak to , to distribute.

After battle with servitors of Bitch Queen, Runa takes a full night's rest, first after many days of siege preparations. Next day, she continues with her duties - first aid lessons continue, along with drills of medical teams as they scramble along the hallways and defense lines, trying to minimize response times for when true battle starts in full.
She also inspects the damage done to the docks, and while she grinds her teeth at the scene, she does not regret the decision in the slightest. True dwarves never bowed to whims of any human god, and they won't start now, no matter the situation at their hands.
She meets with leader of repairs, seeing if her stone shaping blessings of Revered Mother can anyhow assist with the efforts.

Again thirty-some semi-tangible 'eyes' flutter forth and disperse into the wilds of Brogendenstein. Seeking out the enemy. Watching and waiting...

Pairs of individuals that wander outside the main horde camp, for scouting or take a leak or just because orcs and barbarians sometimes do that start going missing, found dead with throats cut or black feathered arrows riddling their bodies. Any large forays forth in any appreciable strength go unchallenged, though they may find occasional remains of campfires here and there.

*An elven shadow under a multitude of magics is seen dropping off a bag via a human making his way into the Citadel. Whatever was in the bag whirred and hissed steam as the man passed.*

The newly-appointed third-in-command of the Kohlinger troops, the copper kin named Zelly, spends this night out amongst the soldiers. She eats with them and speaks with them. They already know her quite well after spending the last few days doing drills with her, but she takes it to a more personal level, subtly coaxing them to open up so she can get to know them all properly. She is a kind and friendly face, but there is a certain fierceness to her eyes, which seems most prevalent when she searches the skies with her eyes, as if looking for something.

As the soldiers turn in for sleep, Zelly pitches her own tent and joins the nightly Watch schedule. She appears to be taking her new position quite seriously.

After the close confrontation within the port between the blue bear and the knights of the holy city, Aaegus seeks the solstice of the forge to cool his frustrations with the manfolk. He mutters a thanks to the Soulforger over his anvil for giving dwarves the gift of temperance to restrain himself from throwing the barbarians into the sea after their offerings.

He turns his attention to his work, crafting a prototype thin yet strong adamantine chain which can be produced on mass for the dragon harpoons.

::

Following the wake of the conflict with the umberlites and the tribesmen, a third reinforcement of kohlinger soldiers arrive as promised by the lady Justicar of Kohlingen. Another regiment of fifty men join the ninety soldiers and ten priests of ilmater already present on Brogendenstein. With them thick coils of rope are brought with the intended use against the white wyrms.

On midday, Sir Robert has the soldiers of Kohlingen assemble in their regiments before his pavillion. As the tall, broad shouldered and proud knight steps from his tent, he looks over his men for a long while, his hand resting upon the pommel of Lionclaw. As he finally addresses them, he does so in a clear, booming and proud voice that easily carries over the army for all present to hear.

"Soldiers of Kohlingen, as you know all too well we face a dire situation here in the north. A horde of savages, orcs, giants and even dragons seeks to take this land for them. They outnumber us at least four to one. We also face the threat of the sea as the servants of the sea bitch work to claim dominion over these shores. While the tribesmen have bend a knee out of fear to the sea bitch, we shall not. You are soldiers and knights of kohlingen, not spineless savages, and will never bow to evil. Kohlingen has not bowed before the Flight of Tiamat, not to the horde of Beastmen that moved against our city, and nor will we bow to this Sea Bitch or this dark horde.

We are leagues from our homes and families. You will be awarded no quarters by our enemy and no mercy. Our foe does not simply seek victory, but it seeks nothing short of the extermination of all good people upon this island. They seek to cut down every man, woman and child. They are close, and they are preparing. They have built siege engines and dark powers lend strength to their beasts. We will have only two hours of warning when they shall march upon Barak Runedar.

When we enter the valley of the shadow of death, trust in your fellow men. You are soldiers of Kohlingen and you have trained for this. Hold the lines, stand your ground and be bold. I shall not lie that victory can easily be obtained and that I can bring everyone of you home alive. Yet what I can promise you is that we will do our people proud, that we will see them break like waves against a cliff in the end, and that we will leave this field to return to Kohlingen with our honor intact and our hearts untainted. We shall leave with glory in victory.

What we do here in life shall echo on in enternity. I am proud to stand here with you. They shall learn to fear the dragon banner when we take the field, with virtue and with blood. "

With that Sir Robert hands over command to Captain Zellani to oversee the drills and preperations in coordination with the dwarven officers.

::

At Sir Robert's direction, Captain Zellani returns to her ancestral form to continue the drills she had been performing previously, intent on training these new soldiers as well. She urges them to utilize the ropes and helps them determine the best way to do so - although she jovially insists that they practice any harpoon or ballista shooting at another target.

Zelly turns to the dwarven officers - namely Councilor Whurak - to encourage them to put together teams to do these drills with her as well.

Kohlingen's Magister - and a perhaps unlikely second-in-command - was present during Sir Robert's speech. Upon it's conclusion, a single nod of approval is offered before the magician returned to his own work and spells.

Ulrik's time is split between the Runery of the citadel and the encampment outside. He still takes his meals among the men of Kohlingen, and performs some of his spell-casting (or black magic, as far as the native barbarians seem concerned) upon those stationed outside. True Sight upon a few key sentries, including some who now are positioned between the Kohlinginer camp and the barbarians. He bolsters the strength and fortitude of men-at-arms with a few words of magic. Imparting the Gift of Mystra upon these men as he once, not even a month ago, had done upon the workers back in Kohlingen. Every so often, there is the casting of a spell that sends dozens of semi-tangible, floating 'eyes' scattering into the wilds.

Simple, subtle workings of Art by the Magister of Kohlingen. But his time within the Runery is another matter, entirely.

Ulrik continues certain rites of divination, harnessing a Seed of the Art itself. Rites began back at the keep of Kohlingen are continued within the Runery. It seems as if these rites are not as successful as the magician would like. His repetition of them hinting at a stubbornness to peel back the veil of mystery that shrouds the dire foes set against the dwarves of Barak Runedar. The sound of his casting perhaps echoing through the citadel, even as night falls. And beyond.

If progress is made at all, it is certainly slow progress...

______________________________________
This third, and most recent, reinforcement of troops deployed by the Justicar are comprised of men more fit for rough climate and terrain. Devoid of the notable blue livery bearing the silver dragon of Kohlingen, these men wear earthen colors over tanned leathers, cloth and, in most cases, banded furs.

An elite contingent of the Holy City's rangers, who come wiedling a vastly different array of weapons than the rank and file men-at-arms already stationed. Specially hooked and barbed arrows for long yew-wood bows. Wickedly sharp logswords, shortswords, daggers and axes. Men built lithe for fast movements and precision maneuvers.

It becomes increasingly evident that these men were deployed to bring down beasts of darkness and engage in devastating guerilla warfare, if such became necessary.

A Gnomish magician, perhaps quietly amidst this all seems to seek out the clergy of Barak Runedar with an obvious thought in his mind, perhaps hoping to address someone with it he eventually decides to send a missive, leaving it on the Notice board.

Wind howled and snow tore through the Kohlinger camp, stinging like needles on the faces of the diligent soldiers. They huddled in their tents or in circles around fires hopelessly snuffed by the elements. This was a natural storm, lacking the ferocity of the Sea Bitch's rage or the insanity of the storm said to follow the xixecal's movements. There was no roar of an ancient white wyrm on the wind - just low rumbling thunder that shook the metal plates and chain of over one hundred soldiers. The soldiers on watch drew their cloaks around them and squinted through the driving snow, glad at least that the horns that would sound to warn them of the enemy army's approach did not join the cacophony around them.

Upon the ridge, the doors of the Citadel opened and Captain Zelly slipped out into the storm. She lifted a hand to shield her face as a grumbling dwarf with a red beard and a mustached wizard joined her. High Councilor Reddok BloodAxe grumbled in his native tongue and Magister Ulrik Valis looked as if he was already quite finished with the snow and ice that pelted them.

Zelly, on the other hand, seemed excited as she looked around the port. The storm wasn't terribly strong, but she knew the Kohlinger troops were not accustomed to this kind of weather. The dwarven soldiers who manned the gates and went about their duties seemed to work as well in the storm as they did out of it. The copper kin looked aside at her companions. This weather could be a very minor version of the storm that might assault them when the horde finally mobilized and it was an opportune moment for the encamped defenders of Barak Runedar. Understanding passed silently through the three companions and after a brief conversation Reddok stomped down the hill to prepare his kin for a training exercise - and to ensure they knew that's what it was if they saw a dragon jumping around in the snow.

Ulrik and Zelly departed the ridge to make for the Kohlinger camp. They sought Sir Robert in his tent and shared quiet words with him away from the eyes and ears of their snow-covered troops. It was a simple thing, organizing and planning a combat training exercise. Reddok had also gone to visit with the dwarven scouts to ensure it was safe to take the time to commit to the exercise and upon his return they would commence.

The dwarven High Councilor sent a runner to inform them that all was clear and the leaders of Kohlingen's forces proceeded as planned. Ulrik slipped out of Robert's tent with Zelly close behind him. Sir Robert departed last and promptly ordered the sounding of the horns that alerted the Kohlinger troops of yet another unannounced drill. If any of the soldiers lamented the choice for a drill in the middle of a weak blizzard, they did so silently.

Unlike their other drills, this one seemed inclined toward direct combat. Orders issued, the soldiers split into prior-arranged groups. Some took up sparring weapons. Others simply drew secondary weapons to offset the skill they held with their primary blades. The newly-arrived rangers joined the men-at-arms in formations they knew well, visibly more prepared for the rough weather and terrain of the Brogendenstein lands.

Sir Robert sounded the start of the exercise and a mighty clang of metal resounded through the port as soldiers faced soldiers in mock battle. Sir Robert and his officers shouted over the clang of metal, directing and coaching the troops whenever they found flaws in the formations and attacks. By the walls, dwarves mobilized in their own formations, organized and directed by the gruff voice of High Councilor Reddok. The dwarves knew well how to battle in these conditions and visibly fared better than the Kohlinger soldiers who had to squint through the snow and more often missed their marks than found them. The rangers, however, added to the intensity of the training exercise by using the terrain to their advantage when they needed to engage one of their armored brethren. Far too many of the men-at-arms slipped or stumbled in the snow, despite alterations made after the last drill that had ended poorly for the same reason.

Concealed within a tent, the Magister of Kohlingen's eyes fluttered back as he finished a powerful, ten-minute incantation. Shrouded in a ward to protect him from the elements, he slipped outside again and turned his eyes to the heavens. The clouds were low and grey, the roil of thunder passed and it looked as if the snow had begun to ease. But the Magister had other plans for this storm. He lifted his hands, staff aloft, and murmured words under his breath, creating a brief billow in the snow around him. As soon as he finished speaking his commands, a gradual change came over the falling snow.

Clouds began to grow darker. Wind howled louder. Snow and ice fell harder and quicker. It was a gradual change, but one that did not go unnoticed by the Kohlinger soldiers and dwarves engaged in their sparring exercise. Several minutes passed and the snowstorm grew fierce and dangerous at the hands of the mustached wizard. He continued his chanting, urging the spell onward as his fierce eyes remained set on the clouds above. A cry went through the men-at-arms who were unprepared for the change in weather, despite that it was not as abrupt as it seemed.

Reddok joined Sir Robert and the pair moved out, directing their respective forces to converge. Two halves of the same army continued to battle one another as the training exercise continued in spite of the raging winds and driving snow.

Then, from the other side of the white haze that surrounded them, a mighty roar shook the port and Zelly's ancestral copper dragon form lunged out toward the battling troops, her powerful wings keeping her aloft as she spilled her slowing gas breath at the nearest gathering of dwarves and Kohlingers. As if on cue, a designated regiment detached from the fighting and took up the ropes and hooks with which they had trained for the past several days. Five rangers joined the regiment to lend their training to the cause. Zelly dove close to the men-at-arms, using the force of the buffet of her wings to knock several of them back even as she unleashed another bout of slowing gas. The soldiers reacted perfectly, lunging out of the way of her breath weapon and narrowly avoiding the sweep of her tail as she turned back to return up higher into the air.

Ropes flew through the air when she made a second sweep, but only a few of them took hold as practiced aim became hindered by the powerful wind and snow of the mighty blizzard. The ropes that had found their mark did not remain as she pulled them out of the soldiers' hands easily. They had not managed a solid enough grasp on her to take her down. Many more ropes were necessary and they had to amend their aim to make the ropes and hooks successful.

Both sides of the sparring Kohlinger soldiers were gradually battered by the storm. Their movements slowed and many stumbled over the sparring dwarves next to them, which only provided a minor upset the sturdy formations of the stout folk. Sir Robert watched with a critical eye even as he shouted above the storm for the soldiers to hold their ground. He mended their formations and sent in and removed various contingents to rotate the troops, but it became very clear to the Kohlinger Commander that the matter of the weather, should the xixecal come down from the mountains when the horde mobilized, could be a very big problem for them.

Seeing their scattered and beaten comrades of the men-at-arms, several other newly-arrived elite rangers leaped to their assistance. Thicker ropes and chains hurled through the air at Zelly as she swept down for another strike at the defenses. She released a roar as she felt them wrap around her limbs and hooks curled over one wing. She turned her bulky body weakly in the driving snow, only to lose her balance when the rangers and soldiers drove stakes into the ground and tugged her just enough that her already poor aerial maneuvering was thrown off and she plummeted to the ground with a mighty crash.

A horn blared amidst the storm and the dwarven and Kohlinger troops began to gather themselves once again. Nearby, Magister Ulrik Valis breathed a quiet word to quiet the storm. Gradually, the snow began to ease and winds died. After several minutes of men-at-arms picking themselves up and searching for dropped weapons or other gear, the sky became clearer than it had been in days. Ulrik gazed up as the last of the clouds fled the heavens and nodded once in approval.

The combat training exercise had lasted only an hour. The dwarves were battered by the elements, grumbling and occasionally calling for an ale as Reddok stepped through the ranks and commended or chastised his troops where necessary. Sir Robert watched the men-at-arms as they wearily made their way back to their camp, preparing for his address. The rangers took the time to untangle the Copper Captain from their ropes and hooks and she lauded them for their diligence and skill in taking her down in the middle of the blizzard.

Once the soldiers had cleared the area, Zelly shook herself and approached Sir Robert and Ulrik. Lowering her massive body into the snow so she could be at their level, the three of them waited for Reddok to join them and they spoke for several long minutes about the proper course of action to take to further train the soldiers to fight in such adverse conditions.

They had done well, and most had remained on their feet and stood their ground. But with fiercer enemies than a copper dragon who didn't want to hurt them and a horde of orcs and fiends that outnumbered them, the possibility of facing this enemy in a terrible and dangerous blizzard was a very real problem they had to work out.

((DM approved))

The barbarians on the other hand would watch with some amusement as the men of Kohligen fumble around in the blizzard. When the Copper Dragon appears most of them take up arms, clearly with the intention to repel the draconic interloper until a growling exchange from a few of the older barbarians calms them down. Clearly the environment isn't much of an issue for the sturdy northmen.

Whurak Valtensson, watched the troops he was swiftly coming to view as "His lads" during their training exercise, and while he took no active part, he was sure to keep a close eye on the performance of his lads, and of the men of Kohlingen, mentally noting how they worked together.

In the meantime, a chultan druid spends most of her time in the wilds with her feline companions. She seems to try to befriend several of the sabertooth tigers of the wilds. Sometimes some join her for a little while. If they are willing to speak, she would ask them what they know or if they know anything of the Horde approaching Barak Runedar. Or the old evil, the abomination lurking in the mountain peak.

At the very least once or twice a day, Malandria returns to Barak Runedar to have an eye on the current situation. She eyes the drills from afar, they seem very alien to her.

Lorin read over the notice again and nodded to herself. She purchased a new helm and winced at the confinement the metal imposed on her, and then set out to find passage to meet up with her kin as her foliage colored, tattered cloak swaying behind her lithe movements.

Inexplicably, many elves in green cloaks and hoods begin arriving on the grounds of Barak Runedar preparing a camp and carrying with them supplies, bows and arms. Though no word was given from their council, the free guardians of Winya Ravana have taken to march with the dwarven defense.

The half orc arrives in Brog as he said he would to those two dwarves that day. He strofe through the camps set up by various folks. Dragon kin, elves, Kohlingers and the like with very few friendly greetings and quite a few suspicious looks. He expected as much, but hopes he can prove himself worthy of some kind of respect from these folk by fighting valiantly alongside them. He just hopes they give him the chance.

The barbarians, especially Kajik go apeshit, them having lost most of their families and tribe due to the orc and demon horde recently. And orcs being their mortal enemy.

Kajik takes Hiatli the Skald and they try to find Reddok or another Dwarf in charge, resisting the urge to grab their warriora or gregrunk to drag the orcborn into camp.

As any skald or storykeeper might, Hialti certainly has things to say about all the newcomers to Barak Runedar:

"The children of the stacked stones bring their wyrm, to northern kissed lands
Stout-folk invite many guests of fang and wing, but none so fearsome as she
With battle-metal scales stained with raven's toast, a roar so different from the loin-boy's squeak
The bear shirts all took up bone-beaks, the unblooded cried out in terror
The bed-kin all thought the end-time had come, and the shamans puzzled over the knot of this monster."

"The children of the stacked stones bring their black witch, kin of the cats, to northern kissed lands
Stout-folk invite many shamans of the thawed lands, but none so exotic as she
With the smell of the green clearing on her, perhaps even whiskers of her own she makes a good mate for the loin-boy
The bear shirts all sneered with distrust, the unblooded looked on with the shrew's curiosity
The bed-kin sneezed, and the shamans wondered over what ancestors watch grew this black lady."

"The children of the stacked stones bring the bastard kin of the One Who Watches, to northern kissed lands
Stout-folk invite many enemies, demon, and pillar-splitter within, but none so loathsome as the orc
With a sloped head, and mouth hinged too far forward, he is an ugly sight to the loin-boy
The bear shirts all took up their bone-beaks, the unblooded remember slaughtered families
The bed-kin steel themselves for the unending rest, and the shamans puzzle over the knot of why the orc was welcomed."

In the mines below Barak Runedar, a wizardess works...

"Dimensional Anchor. Yes, on every last one," she explains to the other mage beside her. Slowly, steadily, they enchant each and every fitting on the complex array in front of them, each time affixing a dimly flickering flame that seems to leap and flare of its own accord. Finally, twenty-five are in place on the end of the heating array of the iridium forge.

"Get that piping jointed!" she calls out at the dwarven smiths. Each of them carries a bundle of leaden tubes, each one packed with thinly-filamented mythal shards. Another dwarf with a crucible of molten lead heads around, sealing the tiny gaps between each tube for the moment. Finally, after long hours of work, the array is nearly complete.

Quickly, easily, almost as a side thought, the wizardess casts a brief spell over the adamantine shell of the forge. It sparkles gently in the dim torchlight of the dwarven mines, but her attention doesn't linger. Instead, she reaches into her satchel and has the dwarves help extract a colossal sapphire, nearly as tall as she is. It appears to have been cut or shaped into a form not dissimilar from the mythal crystals on the mythal forges, though the internal topography appears notably different- an inner vaccum, a spiral, and some complex piping all mark this as different from the forges. It is dwarf-handled into position atop its own fixture, set in place and hooked up to the tubing. Corinn casts a silent look at it in the darkness of the cave, the torchlight glinting off its polished facets and smooth curves as if to hint of the power this stone would soon channel.

Her spellbook comes off of her belt and is flipped to a newer page in the back. Chanting, murmuring, she begins her incantation. A pocket on her belt is opened and a handful of dust is pulled out- though hardly normal- it is the powdered retina of a beholder. The stone is quickly dusted with it before the incantations continue.

Slowly, Corinn can feel the magic in the area 'tug' slightly. The crystal expands its influence, its massive bulk projecting its siphon far beyond the walls of the cavern. As it expands, the magical turbulence settles and the pull ceases. As the spell finishes, the new focus seems inert- but twenty feet away the forge roars to life. The blast of heat out the front of it makes the dwarves near it step back. The smell of singed beards is prevalent.

"It's alive," she breathes quietly, her heart fluttering as she sees the thing she's sweated and bled for come alive. Her shoulders slouch, her form deflates somewhat- she knows she'll have to disassemble it shortly.

"Bring the iridium," she commands. Soon, nearly forty pounds of the extracted metal are hauled over. Crucibles are enchanted with temporary fire resistance, molds the same. Not more than a minute later the first crucible goes into the flames, the limiter being turned to full power. A fire resistance potion is downed by the wizardess and the smiths and they begin setting about their task. Large rocks are hauled over as per her instructions and she begins arranging them in order. A small iron sphere is taken out of her satchel before a glob of clay is rolled over it evenly. She looks to the rocks...

Stoneshape.

Stoneshape.

Stoneshape.

Again and again she casts the spell, every variation she can muster- extended, empowered, and more. Each rock is shaped into a hollow sphere by the spell. Finally, her spells are exhausted. Before her sit twenty-four new rock spheres, each about two feet in width. Though exhausted, she casts a quick endurance spell on herself and continues working.

The first batch of iridium is melted and poured into the molds. The adamantine molds protest with squealing hisses, but they endure thanks to the elemental protections. The molds are dropped into cooling vats, steam bubbling off for several minutes after submersion. Finally, after almost an hour, the molds are cracked off and the new fixtures are set free of the lesser metal binding them. In the darkness of the cave they give off a gentle white glow, a purity of form and function reflected by the metal itself.

The spheres are cut in half. In each one is mounted one of the new fixtures, which is then subsequently enchanted to hold a new fire elemental essence. The wizardess works as quickly as she can, though her speed seems to cause a rather significant number of singes. As the night presses on, she receives a nasty burn on her hand and forearm. Excusing herself temporarily, she later returns in a more appropriate full leather tunic and returns to work. Any who ask would easily hear that she had merely gone to change- no visit had been paid to any of the Citadel's healers. Instead, she seemed intent on continuing the work- her own well-being could wait.

Each sphere is sealed, and a hole drilled in the bottom. And then, the wizardess heads off to rest and prepare more castings- still no personal time taken, she simply limits her activities only to what is absolutely necessary to complete her task. For another day and a half this activity continues, over which time over two hundred more spheres are produced. Finally, when she feels she can no longer put it off, she shuts down the forge. The limiter is set to a full stop, and the forge slowly begins to cool. Not wasting time, however, she instructs the dwarves to begin disassembling the exterior piping. Each section of mythal-packed tubing is snapped off from the whole, the leaden seals breaking easily in the hands of the stout dwarves. Hacksaws are broken out, each tube being sliced into sections no more than an inch long and placed into the holes in the bottoms of the spheres.

Two days after she begins, the exhausted mage looks on the pile of firebomb shells, each containing part of the now-cannibalized iridium forge. The forge itself, now an empty shell, sits forlornly in its spot in the caves. The last of the tubing is reassembled with the crystal focus of the forge to create a makeshift charging mechanism for the magical firebombs. Her work done, she hears word that Kohlingen's forces have arrived...

She heads up and outside, her work apparently only just beginning.

Sir Jerand Whiterose did not see the drills by the Kohlingen or dwarven troops. He was stringently working with the Ilmateri clergy on plans for a triage area and how best to treat and evacuate the wounded.

At various times he can be seen walking around the perimeter of the encampment, particularly the side where the dock was destroyed by the druid of Umberlee. He gives words of encouragement and a smile to any he sees, wishing to bolster their moral in this most unforgiving climate, even to the half orc who has sequestered himself back in a corner of the encampment away from most others.

"Did you hear, Lieutenant?"

"Yes. We're no longer 'Winyans' in this war. The council will rather linger than have the city's name granted to the defense of this war. You are now elven mercenaries." She reads Laerira's note and tosses the Captain's letter into the fire along with some other papers. "Stay put and on task. We are not leaving Barak Runedar to suffer. None of you are."

Lorin frowned in the concealment of the shadows as she overheard the Lieutenant's comments. Deep green eyes watched the crumpled paper land in the flames. Just as the edges began to turn black, the lithe body slipped back out the gate and returned to scouting the nearby wilderness.

The hoard outside the gates seems quite content to sit and wait, for something, the dwarves get restless and the barbarians seem eager to have the bloodletting begin.

Tuomas seemed to quietly pace about camp and the area of Barak Runedar, contemplative in his watch of the line and out to where the Horde awaits.

~ I wonder how long it'll remain quiet for... until something on their side is in place, or until we cannot focus and want it to end. ~

*Mikal Blacksword can be seen now in the camps, after his honeymoon with Serenity, collecting the proper information to aid them*

Ulrik continues to go about his duties. Attending war councils, meetings, and conferring with his fellow officers and magi. Regular reports are sent back to Kohlingen keep. When not doing these things he is within the citadel's runery and amid his magic. A divination ritual that was started back in Kohlingen keep and conducted throughout his time in Barak Runedar is continued stubbornly. Additionally, several items: coins, axes and so forth are also magically marked by the magician and set aside in his temporary office for some purpose.

And again, the Magister can be seen passing through the camps, casting a Greater Prying Eyes divination. Thirty-some semi-tangible floating 'eyes' again scatter out into the wilderness of Brogendenstein. Seeking, watching, and waiting.

Kohlingen's Magister is no stranger to waiting games. Nor does he waste any time.

The Holy City's forces are informed that they should expect a Kohlinger envoy within the day. Matters of great import for Kohlingen are to be discussed even while these soldiers are abroad.

//Tonight after 7:00 EST and tomorrow morning after 9:00 a.m. EST for the Euro suckers.

The waves were restless, and the fog grew. The sounds of orcs could be heard within the fog, and the garrision mobilised to repell the attack on the northern wall. The fog continued to move towards the citadel, and just as it was about to descend on the fortress the sounds of battle erupted off the coast of the citadel.

Huge hulking eel-like creatures boarded the unaware vessels of the Lord's Alliance, scores of men died, their corpses lay in the bay until the Bitch Queen claimed them. The marines of Kohligen sallied out of the port to mitigate the damage but only twelve survivors were pulled out of the frigid water. The vessels began to sink slowly, by the evening they were completely submerged.

*The Chair Of Military is soon to react, altering the deployments of his men to better cope from an attack by the sea now that naval superiority has been lost. His mood seems somewhat dour, though a grim smile can be seen upon his face, the time of waiting is over*

Whurak Valtensson wrote:

Deployments of the Anvil Of Barak Runedar

As Chair of Military, I hearby post the Orders for Dwarven Deployments in the coming battles against the orcs. Our allies shall form up around us. I am organizing the Military into units of fifty for ease of deployment. A List of your name and your Unit shall be marked in the Barracks, they shall be lads and lasses you are familiar with so as not to cause a problem.

Units 5 and 6 are to hold the mines against any underground interlopers and to act as a reserve should the Port be strongly attacked and we need their axes above ground.

Units 1, 2, 3 and 4 are deployed to the Port walls. They are to hold the walls against the oncoming horde.

Units 7 and 8 are deployed to the Monastary, their Orders are to use the Monastary and neighbouring walls as a bulwark against attacks from the sea and to defend the rear of our forces from attacks from that quarter.

Unit 9 is deployed to operate from the military HQ within the port, and they are to act as a military reserve, to bolster failing positions or to counter attack any breach within the wall or unopposed landfall of enemy forces.

Unit 10 is dispersed throughout the hold, acting as Stretcher bearers, ammunition carriers and the like.

*Nana can be seen running to the mines with a copy of the orders.*

Hail ter ye, Thorfin.
D-d-dat be da o-o-order ye w-were waitin' fer. Thegn Whurak has c-c-confirmed. Ye w-will be c-commandin' a t-troup o' 100 kins, dem units 5 an' 6 !

*A proud smile on her face, she hands the Orders to her Clan leader*

*raising a brow, she asks*
I think I still h-have t-time fer dat mission I t-t-told ye 'bout, in da F-frozenfar ?

Forward Scouting

Snow barely crunched beneath the feet of the scouting parties as they moved out under cover of night from the node near the North-Eastern Forests. Grimdur leading a team comprised of Dwarven Raiders, Armathoran Scouts and Kohlingen Rangers moved silently into the fringes of the forest, slipping between the boughs and trunks to dart across the undergrowth into the shadow of the cliffs supporting the waterfall. They kept close, getting a head count on numbers milling about, and making note of any stockpiles of enemy supplies. He kept a sharp eye out for any champions or enemy lieutenants moving about, spotting a mass of orcs near the mouth of caverns. 'Bastards..', he thought, as his brow furrowed, 'We'll see you dead soon enough.' Suppressing his deep longing to order his scouts to begin picking off any straggling orcs, he instead ordered them to continue observing for the time they were there, noting all enemy positions, before falling back to the node to portal out.

Phase One Completed: Secure/Acquire the crystal node in the North-Eastern Forest, to allow runedar defense forces to slip into enemy held territory from there, rather than leave via the Hold's gates. Gather some recon' on the Orcs in the forest whilst there. (Noted above.)

Although the Warbearer and Sergeant have attended several meetings and council hearings already within the Citadel, this cold evening a small force sporting the crimson red and dark gold colours of the Order of the Flaming Blade disembark from the ferry. After acquanting themselves with the locals, they proceed to set up an encampment within Barak Runedar's grounds. A sign of a more "permanent" presence for the war effort.

Brogendenstein - The Aftermath!

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