Chapter 4
Picture by Samarskiy at Deviantart
Turn 1 ((OOC game rules shown at the end of this post))
With the Dwarves at his back, Hwesta sprang from the hall and started to run across the surface of the drifting snow towards Rorin. He didn't get very far, for the dead had risen, and in their multitude blocked the way. He could hear Rorin yelling battle cries, beating on his shield, taunting the enemy and generally doing what Dwarves did best - seek a brave yet early death.
He slid to a hasty stop and peered through the snowfall. He couldn't see the wraith at all. Nocking an arrow to his longbow, the Elf took aim at one of the shifting shadows, but a whirl of snow went up at the last moment and his shot went wide. (rolled D5: 1) Calmly yet with great speed he readied another arrow, yet this shot too failed to hit anything. (rerolled Elf bonus D5: 1)
This would not do. Whether it was some dark magic that blocked his arrows, or just bad luck in the snowstorm, he didn't care, but the Dwarf could not hold out for long. He had to get the attention of these dead somehow.
He saw how the shapes shifted, like mist, not quite where they seemed to be, hazy except when they faced him. A tangible dread went up from them. Though Hwesta did not fear the dead, he preferred to go on living himself, and these warriors from an earlier age were without honour or mercy.
The wind shifted, and he had a clear shot at last. The arrow was loosed upon its foe before another breath was drawn, and a terrible wail spread from the Dead throng (rolled D5: 4). He had no idea what he'd hit, but clearly it had been a telling shot. Taking advantage of the brief window in the storm, he got off one more shot before the wind changed again, bringing a wall of snow between him and the Dwarf. (rolled D5: 3)
One of the shadows turned towards him, its trailing tatters of flesh flapping in the wind, and horror in its socketed eyes. Hwesta put his head a little on one side and regarded the thing, but what looked upon him was neither Man nor wraith. It was, he thought, merely mindless and dead, and that these Dwarves could fight.
He turned round and yelled to the two Dwarves, "Do not look into their eyes, they are but dead bones!"
Then something smashed into him quite violently and he was thrown down into the snowdrift near the door, (the dead counterattack for D5: 5) the breath totally knocked out of him. Shaking his head, he tried to get up, then fell back. His legs weren't working and his back screamed pain. The Dwarves looked briefly at him and then forged ahead, axes raised.
The deafening shriek stolled Sigberts blood. There was a silence.. A long dead silence. Sigbert heard Rorins battlecry "Baruk-Khazad!". Sigbert could not leave his friend out there alone "Blast it! Rorin Im coming too!".
Quickly Sigbert strapped on some metal covered shoulder patches and leg protection. He took a shield and hammer from the weapon rack and mustered his courage "This is it Nyr... Mahal save us."
He looked at the elf "You seem to know what we are facing. I wont beg, but come with us stranger". Hilfar tried to stand up but utterly failed as his foot was still swollen.
There was another cry outside and something scratching the door. Sigbert roared driving away his fear and opened the door. He now looked into the empty eyesockets that once belonged to a man. Sigbert hesitated at the unexpected horrid appearance before him. The corpse moved his bladehand ready to strike. Sigbert was faster and crashed his hammer into the its ribs. Bones rattled into the snow as Sigbert moved outside.
"By Mahal.."
The inner courtyard was full with dead and rotten things. A half decayed wolf ran up to him next with a speed of a young adult. Its jaws snapped at him before he plunged his hammer at the wolf skull, swinging it clean off from its body. The head continued snapping in the snow "What is this!?".
Another cry of pain erupted from where Rorin stood. He was surrounded and swinging his axe around at will. "We are coming Rorin!" Sigbert yelled. A dead dwarf bearing a shield ran up to him, Sigbert tried hitting it but the corpse blocked his attack "How can you even block without eyes!?" The dwarf corpse struck back and met the shield of Sigbert. Sigbert felt fear creeping on him "courage Sigbert, for Rorin.." He muttered, in an attempt to reassure himself.
((Rolled 2, 3 and 5: 2 hits.
1 enemy strikes back but misses on 1))
"Rorin! You idiot!", shouted Nyr annoyed, "now I need to come and save your beard!", he shouted while charging one of the wights. "Baruk-Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!", he roared and his blade pierced the wight who seemed to vanish like a dissolving mist. "I'm getting the hang of this", he said confidently after cutting another wight down, "don't move Rorin! I'm getting closer!", at that moment a wave of wights came rushing toward Nyr.
Nyr's jaw dropped and in a soft whisper he said: "Oh, brother... ". With a desperate attempt he tried to cut down what seemed the leader, but he was far too strong, parrying Nyr's blade with ease. A shout that pierced his very bones engulfed him and Nyr felt a sharp pain in his leg, "what? no?" Nyr said to himself, realizing he had been cut by the evil blade of the wight-master.
((Rolled a 5, a 4 and a 1, resulting in 2 hits. 1 enemy strikes back and wounds Nyr with 4))
Turn 2
Dwarves rushed past in their iron boots, roaring battle cries and insults, while Hwesta flopped around in the snow. The cold was helping; slowly the pain in his back became bearable, and a measure of feeling returned. Shakily, he stood up. There were still many Dead to kill, but he didn't think he could draw the bow yet. Drawing his dagger, he looked around. The chaos of running Dead - boars, wargs, Men, even Dwarves - surged before his eyes.
A boar rushed him, bloody foam dripping from its snout, then went down on its knees fast with the dagger between its ribs. The Elf pulled his dagger free and took a few steps forward - better.
Yet his luck failed to hold. A massive bear, rotting flesh falling from its flanks, charged over the rise and grabbed him in its huge paws before he had time to strike. The dagger slid off its slavering fangs as he tried to stab it in the eye. Then the bear had him in its jaws and shook hard, so that his body was lifted off the snow and his head snapped this way and that. But he still had the dagger, and this time he managed to stab it straight into the beast's eye. Together, bear and Elf fell onto the ice, and lay still. Only one was breathing, though for how long the Elf couldn't be sure.
(rolled 5, 1, reroll 1, 5)
The dwarf corpse stood there behind his shield, getting ready to strike again. Sigbert Pushed him over with his shield and crushed its ribcase with a hammer strike. (roll 3). Quickly he looked around him. Sigbert saw both the elf as well as Nyr in trouble. The elf lay on the ground while Nyr had a fresh cut from what seemed a quite powerful boneman. He had to choose. "Keep your boney fingers to yourself" Sigbert ran towards Nyr with his hammer raised. The wight was quick enough to parry the attack and immediately strike back at Sigbert. He raised his shield and with a heavy clunk the blow of the ancient blade was stopped. ((Sigbert attack roll1 (fail), Wight counter roll 5 (success), dwarf block bonus roll 3 (success)).
The wight recoiled from the clash with Sigbert shield leaving an opening to strike. Sigberts hammer blow broke both of the wight its legs which made the foe crumble to the floor. (Roll 4) "Are you alright Nyr?". There was little time to answer as more wights were inbound. Sigbert turned towards the elf and made an attempt to go in his direction but his way was blocked by more wights.
-Meanwhile inside-
Meltrild was looking from the door of the main building at the battle, holding a cloth over her mouth in horror.
Then suddenly she recognized a familiar face.... yet not as she once remembered him.
Scared of out her beard she rushed inside and bolted the door.
"Father... that was father... " she said, gasping for air with a pale white face, having no intention to ever open the door again.
The body of Meltrild's father was never recovered, after he went missing in the snow...
Hilfar saw the horror on Meltrild's face after she closed the door. Hilfar realised if the others died outside he was the last breathing male to wield an axe "Ï cant sit here and do nothing.. I dont want to die like this". Hilfar leaned on his stick and stumbled to the weapon rack "Mahal, I beg you mercy, let me at least die with honor". Hilfar took an axe from the rack and tried standing on his foot while biting away the pain. "What are we going to do Meltrild? Is there another way out? You must flee Hrimbarg, I will make sure no-one follows you". Hilfar knew that in his state he couldnt even stop a puny goblin.
"No, no, no, no.... "said Meltrild with a blank expression as she shook her head over and over again, not sure if she was speaking to Hilfar or still thinking about what she had just seen.
"You must stay here... this door is strong, we can't let anything in here... it is horrible... it is... " and at that Meltrild fell to her knees and started to sob.
Then she slowly woke from her icy gaze and looked at Hilfar. "There is.. yes, there is another way out... ", she pointed trembling at a large ale barrel, "If we move it there is a hidden passage that will take us to the other side of the mountain... but we can't now... there are too many of them out there", at which she started to sob again.
Nyr nodded at Sigbert as he saw the vast number of wights and dead roll over the mountain, one row after another, heading their way. "There is no way we'll be able to kill that many!", he yelled hoping Rorin or the elf would have heard it too.
No answer came, apart form a nod from Sigbert, as he saw both the elf and Rorin chop down one after the other.
"Right, if that's the way we want to head to the Halls of Waiting... I'm in!", he grinned and set his stout legs firmly apart holding his old two handed axe in his strong grasp, having almost forgotten the deep cut in his leg.
As one of the dead came closer he chopped it's head clean off... "one more down... but who's counting", he said jokingly. But the fun was soon forgotten as one of the dead, once a dwarf by the looks of it, charged him merciless and cut him in the arm. Though Nyr had tried to cleave his skull, he had missed. The dead move quick he thought as he looked at his arm.
"Argh!" shouted Nyr, this time there was no denying the pain as blood gushed from the wound as a water from the Bree fountain. Nyr fell down and crawled back, the dead dwarf had set his eye on him and uttered a blood curling shout. Nyr felt his hunting knife in his right pocket and quick as maybe cut the dwarf clean across the chest. It fell down.
"Now... stay... stay dead!" Nyr gasped, clearly having trouble breathing.
((rolled a 5, 2, and 4 - enemy returned with a 4 too on the miss - Nyr now has two major wounds, one is his left arm and one is right leg))
Turn 3
He felt the cold. This was a new sensation, and one that alerted him to the severity of his wounds, for his people could freeze to death in extreme situations.
He brought all the force of his mind to bear now on focus and calm, raising images of Lothlorien, the mighty mallorn, a drop of water falling into a forest pool. The surface of the pool shimmered, the ripples spreading out past the limits of his sight, and then someone came and looked into the water, and he saw her reflection. Galadriel, wisest of the wise, put her hand into the pool and raised up an axe of Dwarven design, and a wall of water rose around her, holding back the dark that pressed in from all sides.
He opened his eyes. His path was clear.
The embattled Dwarves were failing. The snow was red with their blood, and still the dead came on. Hwesta got up, leaving his pain and doubt on the ice where it could harm no one. The Dwarf he'd met in the Golden Wood had told him this was a land so beautiful it was past understanding, but now Hwesta knew this had been a fateful meeting, meant to bring him here for a different purpose. The Dwarves must survive! He didn't need to know why; Galadriel herself had shown him what must be done.
He unslung his great bow and plotted a course to Rorin, then began to run over the snow, firing arrows one after the other to deadly effect. Wights exploded in showers of mist, and nothing touched him. The showers of mist fell shimmering on either side, a wall of water that held back the dark on all sides.
Rolled 2 - 1 - 1 all fails
Reroll 3 - 3 - 3 all hits, no counterattacks
This is our final hour, Sigbert thought. There was a certain strength in the acceptance of death in battle, instead of facing the decay of time. Rorin was weakening, but still gave it all he had.
There was a change. The elf got up, but something was different about him. The elf started cutting a path through the dead as a knife through butter. Different forces were at work here . Sigbert roared with raised weapon "A glorious death!". Sigbert followed the elf smacking his hammer from one foe after the next as if Mahal himself guided his hammer. Rorin was in sight, surely they all fight and die as brothers this day.
(Rolled a 4, 5, 4.)
Nyr was having great difficulty with his leg, barely able to drag it forward. The dead seemed to notice his weakness and honed in on him. Hoards of walking dead and wights charged Nyr. For a brief moment he trembled, knowing that this might indeed be his end. At that moment he heard Sigbert cry "A glorious death!". Nyr nodded and grinned, "By Dwalin's nose it will be indeed!", almost chuckling as the pain faded from arm and leg in pure euphoria.
In three quick strikes he chopped down three more walking dead and roared triumphantly.
(rolled 3, 4 and 4)
((Combat conclusion 21 kills, meaning Rorin was not killed in action. Nyr and Hwesta got some fresh wounds. I will now write the conclusion of the battle. ))
The dead were crumbling around Rorin as Hwesta, Sigbert and Nyr rushed to his aid. Rorin looked bewildered as his fury clouded his senses. A smile formed on his face seeing his comrades at his side "That took you long enough!". They all turned now at the great undead host before the gate.
To the suprise of the dwarves they noticed the Wight army stopped moving, they just stood there motionless. They looked at the elf, he just stood there too. "What is the meaning of this?" said Sigbert.
Suddenly the Wraith appeared among the dead. Its darkness clashed with the strange power that hang around Hrimbarg. "The amulet, give it to me.." hissed the wraith. Sigbert grew fearful "w-what amulet..?", Rorin held his jaws shut. The wraith turned to the elf "Fool, you can not kill me!".
Limbs of the undead army started dropping in the snow. Slowly the entire army crumbled to the floor like a house of cards. The Wraith hissed as some power was opposing him "I will return..."
The Wraith was gone.
((OOC game rules))
Combatants: Sigbert (me), Nyr (Kandral, Hwesta (Glori)
Objective: Safe Rorin
Synopsis: The wraith its dark powers unleashed an army of animated corpses that now attacks Hrimbarg. Rorin the bold is now overwhelmed by a vast number of the walking dead. The dead are a gathering of all life that died on the mountain. Corpses of men, dwarves, even beasts and goblins. Rorin stands alone in front of Hrimbarg fighting to his last breath. The trio Sigbert, Nyr and Hwesta try to get to him in time, but their way is blocked by a horde of undead.
Number of rounds: 3.
Round sequence:
- Each round each combatant makes 3 attacks which succeed on D5: 3+. So each person may kill up to 3 undead.
- Each failed attack will result in a counter attack of the undead which also hits you at D5 3+. This will result in the amount of wounds you receive. (so killing 3 per turn means no counter attacks).
- Special rule for elves: You may reroll each attack if needed. The elves are known for their precise blows.
- Special rule for dwarves: For each enemy strike you receive may block it at D5 3+. The dwarves are strong in their defense.
There are no hitpoints here, just RP when you get more wounds and how tough the battle is becoming for you. Maybe you get through unscathed!
After 3 rounds: all 3 combatants have performed max 27 attacks. In total after 3 rounds you need at least 15 succesfull attacks to safe Rorin.
