The Battle of Gloiran

(Erean Mountains, north of Gloiran, 28^th September, 1600)

There was an awkward moment or two, as the group considered answers to this, and then Hildraft remembered and dug out the warrant from King Hrolf Earthstar of Kobur, recommending to the King of Gloiran that the band be given passage and cooperation in their quest. This altered things considerably, and the spearmen stepped back and allowed the party inside, closing the secret door with a click. Then they were escorted to the visitor quarters maintained near the north gate and provided with rooms, beds, baths, food, and a couple of page-dwarves to provide for any further needs they might have.

Very little discussion was needed to arrive at the decision to keep Mergil safely concealed throughout their stay. Dwarves being dwarves, such a unique treasure and item of power was best kept out of the reach of temptation.

Surya requested an urgent interview with whatever dwarven general was in charge of the defence of the city, explaining that the group had important tactical information to pass on vis a vis the ongoing siege. Half an hour later, two dwarven generals arrived, obviously a little sceptical about this human's claims to useful knowledge about fighting in dwarf cities, but ready to listen just in case.

Artila's Helmet

Sack opened the discussion with typical despatch by inverting the helmet and dumping Artila's head onto the floor at the generals' feet. This caused a sensation; it also established the truth of what Surya had to say without any of that tedious arguing. Soon, messengers were dashing about in all directions, and the dwarves began to prepare for a sortie the next morning; a decapitated army was just too tempting a target to pass up. The companions were ushered to an observation gallery, high up on the face of the mountain, from which they could see the unfolding engagement. By the time they arrived, battle had already been joined and the dwarves were storming out from the main gates as well as myriad secret entrances around the shallow bowl of the valley.

The heroes watched this for some time; and then Surya's love of a good scrap overwhelmed him, and he persuaded the others to join him in taking the field on the dwarvish side. Swiftly making their way down to the main gate, the adventurers drew their weapons and hurled themselves into the fray.

All of them had battlefield experience, gained when fighting in the Crimson Eagles under Mazahir; moreover, each had learned new things since, and all were equipped with much better weapons and armour. As the battle wore on, each found himself a rallying point; dwarves were attaching themselves to the heroes and fighting with them. Soon, each was tasting the experience of command; leading, almost by accident, various sized units of dwarf warriors. The dwarves, up to now somewhat the butt of "shortist" jokes from some of the taller members of the party, were in their element here; blood-thirsty, enraged, the Naugrim fought like dæmons.

Swords, axes and spears crashed, arrows flew, blood spattered; amid the screams, cries, shouts and clamour it was hard to see what was happening overall; but things seemed to be going well.

Surya led his followers and smashed an opposing spear-unit; he personally slew eleven of them with only minor wounds. Once the dead started to rise and fight for him, some of the dwarves he was fighting alongside fell away and moved to fight elsewhere, distrust and fear on their faces; enough stood firm, however, that the advance was not lost.

Sack, using his training, worked around the back of enemy groups where he could, and attempted to bring down their leaders with surprise attacks; three lizard officers and a human. Once the lizards worked out what was happening and started to defend against it, he revrted to his mighty longbow, a weapon that outranged any other on the battlefield, and dealt out terrible damage to foes who thought they were a safe distance away.

Hildraft and Vollun stuck together, joining onto a group of combatant priests of Kord. These fought their way into the thick of things, then fell back behind the lines to heal and return to the fray warriors who had been injured. Hildraft slew one of the rare human officers of the dragonarmy as well as ten ordinary soldiers, and Vollun, redeeming himself for his failures of courage under Khundrukar, fought brilliantly and bravely.

Kobort, cloaked in Improved Invisibility and armed with both blade and dweomer, provided virtually the only significant artillery of the whole battle. His Fireball and Lightning spells shattered the structure of whole platoons of lizard troops, and his unerring Magic Missiles accounted for several officers.

• Gradually, the dwarves began to push the dragon army backwards. The lizards were demoralized, without central leadership, some poisoned, some confused - thanks to the party's sabotage of the previous night. The dwarves were well organized, well led, of high morale after the revelation of the enemy commander's death, and able to reinforce almost at will.
• Finally, towards sunset, the last organized lizard resistance collapsed, and the few survivors started to flee back up the northern valley. Some trapped troops attempted to surrender; a few actually managed to survive to be taken prisoner. Units of dwarves were sent to harry the fleeing enemy, and quiet fell on the littered battlefield. Amongst the wrack, the five adventurers gathered, and sat down to rest. Still consumed with bloodlust, Sack used his enchanted cooking knives to prepare a grisly meal from a fallen lizardman, something his comrades viewed with mixed reactions.
• They returned to their quarters, to find a message from the king that there was to be a day of celebration tomorrow, and a great feast in the evening. Hildraft promptly handed Vollun his battered, dirty armour, with instructions to get it polished for then. Vollun took it around the corner and handed it to a page-dwarf, with the instructions "Get that cleaned up!". The lad was learning....
• While the others rested, Kobort set off to do some research. He got himself guided down to the deepest forges below Gloiran. The forgeworks were bustling, with smiths busily mending armour and weapons and forging fresh, for the dwarves were well aware that the Dragon had more than one army, and was not going to be at all pleased to have lost this one. Kobort walked through the caverns, and was shown into the office-chamber of the forgemaster. This worthy was sitting at a wooden table, writing in a large book and occasionally looking up as dwarven smiths brought complete or part-finished items of work for him to look at.
• When Kobort's larger shadow fell across him, he looked up... and then up a bit more than usual. "Whmph? What do you want?" he grunted; not hostile, but definitely not welcoming.
• Kobort reached to his hip and drew the Dyvka in one smooth momevement. "What do you think of this?" he asked. There was a sudden steely rustle, and the sorcerer became suddenly aware that every dwarf in the place had either picked up, half drawn, or made ready whatever weapon was easist to hand, and that all of them were watching him very, very closely. He paused for a moment, then slowly and carefully reversed the weapon and offered it hilt-first to the dwarf forgemaster.
• The whole hall relaxed audibly; the workers went back to what they were doing. None the less, Kobort was quite sure that he was being watched carefully, and that any hostile move wasn't going to take the dwarves by surprise.
• Unpeturbed, the forgemaster accepted the sword and studied it closely, muttering to himself. He looked at its' peculiar, rippled surface in a variety of lights; he cast some sort of investigative magic over it; he sliced through a variety of materials with it. Then he looked up at Kobort. "Where did you get this?" he asked abruptly.
• Kobort explained that he'd killed the previous owner, general of the army they'd fought today, a Kin. The dwarf's already impressive eyebrows shot up. "This is Artila's sword?" he said. "Um, now, that rings a bell..." Standing, he hurried through into a back room, which turned out to be a small library. Pulling down books and scrolls, he started paging through them until he found some of the references he was after, which he handed to Kobort.
• Artila of the Kin had been around for quite a long time. Some of the older works referred to his appearance on battlefields - with a slender, deadly sword - as long as two hundred and fifty years ago. Most of the articles were written by dwarves, largely smiths, and speculated widely on the origin of the weapon. Some were adamant that it was an Elven sword; others that it was from some sort of ancient lost Lizardman civilization sunken into the Trakar. All agreed that while wielding it, Artila appeared faster, more agile, and a deadly fighter.
• One obscure and incomplete document referred to the weapon as being "part of a whole". This reminded Kobort of something, and he picked the sword up again. Now he thought about it, he saw what this meant; when held two-handed, it felt like an oddly-balanced version of his own bastard sword; wielded in one hand, it seemed 'out of balance'... not badly-balanced, but incomplete, as if there were something... missing.
• Thanking the dwarf forgemaster for his help, Kobort returned to his quarters, perplexed.
• That night, the triumphant feast took place. The normally dour dwarves relaxed and celebrated, eating, drinking and laughing. Displays of skill and art were given, and King Dorain stood up and honoured the best fighters of the day before all the company. While many of the jests being swapped confused the humans, it was clear that they were fully accepted, and were seeing this event from the "inside", an honour accorded to few non-dwarves.
• Sack, however, was elsewhere. Just before the feast started, he had prevailed upon Kobort to loan him the Cloak of Daira Fairhands, and to cast his improved Invisibility on him. Then the half-orc ghosted off into the almost-deserted dwarven city, unable to resist his professional instincts any more, to plunder.
• He ranged through the wealthier areas, seeking small, high-value plunder and magical-looking objects, taking care to leave no signs of his passage. Finally, feeling that his time was running out, he parcelled everything up and trekked over to the south end of the city, several miles away.
• There he found the great South Gates closed, locked and heavily guarded. For a while he despaired of finding an exit, but then he noticed a patrol readying themselves to go outside. He followed them, noticing to his surprise that they didn't go towards the main gates, but instead headed for another secret exit. Invisibly following, he successfully escaped and made his way down the southern road for about half a mile. There he built a small cairn and hid the parcel under it.
• Then he returned to the secret entrance and waited for another patrol to return, slipping in as they did so. Retracing his steps, he made his way back to the banqueting hall, and nudged Kobort, who quietly cancelled the Invisibility. Then the canny half-orc threw himself into the party, drinking, roaring with laughter, apparently enjoying himself immensely so much that no-one, asked "who wasn't there?" the next day after the hangovers had faded, was likely to say, "Sack the Half-orc!".

• (Erean Mountains, south of Gloiran, 30^th September, 1600)

• Next morning, the party told their attendants that they wanted to move on. A senior courtier - a little bleary-eyed - came to show them out and wish them well on behalf of the (indisposed) king. Sack, still carrying Artila's head, was an especial trial for the suffering this morning, as the head was now utterly rank and starting to drip out of the helmet.
• Escorted down to the south gates, they found their horses, rested and well-cared for, waiting for them. Bidding farewell to the green-faced courtier, they stepped out into the bright sunshine of a crisp autumn morning, and heard the stone gates of Gloiran snick shut behind them.
• Riding off down the valley, Sack the ranger kept his eyes and ears open, as usual, for signs that he was being followed. Natural, given his activities of the night before! Sure enough, he heard tell-tale sounds of movement from behind the group.
• Passing his reins to Hildraft, he dropped off and hung back, hiding just off the trail to see what happened. The sound of footfalls grew nearer, and clearer, and the half-orc frowned to himself. Not booted. Not clawed Lizard feet. Not two-legged at all. Not hooved. Sort of padded. Quite heavy. The answer had already started to dawn on him when it came around the corner and met him. A bear.

Not just any bear either. The bear. The bear Sack had cast Animal Friendship on so long ago, and had had to leave on entering Gloiran the first time, at this very gate. Chuckling, Sack gestured to the bear to follow him, quickly located his cairn and retrieved his loot, and ran to catch up with the others.

The Bear