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> The serpent splits
JackFlashblade
post Aug 20 2017, 05:59 PM
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*Somewhere in the rural lands of Rodanne*

Ragnorage picked at the slither of flesh stuck between his tusks with a still bloody bone. The old Black orc had controlled the Spitting Serpent tribe with an iron hand since before most of them were born.

Those Pesky Knights of the Land had tried to trick him, or gone back on their agreement at least. Well if he can’t have his way with the rural lands of Sellaville then this Rodanne sounded like a much riper target, much easier. A City that weak deserved to be taken and the populous would feed his tribe for a long time.

He took another bite from the calf of one his runts. The villages near to Rodanne seemed to be deserted, but he had plenty of snufflers to keep his warriors going until they could feast upon the pink flesh that the city would reward him with.

His thoughts went to his traitorous Shamen and their earthtramp. He had a long memory for an orc, and one day he would return to them and eat them both for their disloyalty.

He looked behind him over the sparse woodlands to where what he thought to be the last of his loyal Orcs were marching out of the summoned portal of dark magic.
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JackFlashblade
post Aug 21 2017, 09:36 PM
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Journeyman Magistrate Honeyman was not going to let him Empress’s newest City fall to raiding greenskins. Not whilst he still breathed, at least.

Being one of the first to hear the news of the Spitting Serpent tribe raiding its way across the rural lands towards the City of Rodanne, he had immediately taken action. In fact only the gaily colored fey Sebastian had known of it before him, but only because he had forseen it in with his tatty pack of tarot cards.

Sending off a Winterhaven runner to alert the local notables, Honeyman disturbed the somewhat depleted Watch in their lunch with news of the imminent attack. They had lost a lot of their number to a deadly curse cast upon them a few weeks back, but the survivors were a stalwart lot. Sandwiches, no doubt dropped off by Captain Harley, were discarded and wet stones used on their old standard issue short swords.

Unfortunately the City did not have an active Militia, but it did have its fair share of resident mercenaries.

Vinnie the fey stood against the old coach house wall, his magic hiding him from normal sight, whilst muttering of ravens, crows and magpies and how those bloomin jackdaws have made off with his stash of lembas again! Something Sebastian knew would happen.

Still, he carefully measured out in paces the range for his spells, so he would know from where he could throw a crippling pain at an invading orc, or summon a stone wall to block off the entirety of a street.


From the city could just be made out a buzzing and what looked from afar like a dense smog over the closest of the trees to the city. It seems several bees nests were within the small thicket. Something Sebastian had forseen.

The walls and gates of the city were fairly strong, but there were too few people to effectively defend the walls. The local peons seemed panicked at the news, certainly none seemed keen to take up pitchforks to defend their city.

However, as the strong figure of Ace, clad in his leather dragonscale style armor strut into the main square, a few faces turned to him, as though for guidance. He called out to those who were capable and who had the courage to stand with him upon the walls and defend their city. With that some figures started to head off, only to return a short time later with spears, clubs and the odd battered shield. Sebastian, knowing this would happen, was nearby to hand out the few spare weapons in the militia house to anyone inspired to join the cities defense.


Templin Von Kel had been preparing for a time like this since his City had returned to its rightful place upon Primus. He carefully removed the ancient pact he had scribed and headed towards the darker streets, looking for areas where a low mist had started to form, and a deathly smell left an acrid taste at the back of his mouth.

Seasons Wind Stood in the main square, his form bright where the sun seemed to shine that bit more brightly upon him. He paced the perimeter, followed; it would seem, by dazzling sunshine. He could be seen calling upon the powers of the seasons, in particular summer, and of the dawn.

A silvery tongue has granted him insight into a rite their dark witchdoctor had prepared, and since then he had been engaged in chant.

Harley then strode into the city square, slowly stroking his stone along the blade of his thin bladed battle axe. Behind him his Watch started filtering through the crowds, carrying baskets of bread and the bottles of mead he had sent for.

The beggers looked on, whispering quietly to each other, as they moved around the city.
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JackFlashblade
post Aug 22 2017, 06:47 AM
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((If anyone has characters who want to be involved in the defense of Rodanne drop me a mail with their details and what they want to do))
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JackFlashblade
post Aug 22 2017, 06:57 PM
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Harley had the watch working on overtime. The watch of Rodanne were a well fed lot. Since the induction of their current Watch Captain it seemed to attract big burley types with appetites to match and by the looks of it a few had some ogre heritage somewhere along their lines. Still they were well suited to carrying the make shift barricades to block off the areas of wall that the city would have too few defenders to man properly.


Warwick Winterbottom, the well-loved Governor of the City had just returned through his Cities gates. He was walking in line with Morgan and with several score of rural types following with carts, pack mules and various sacks bulging with their possessions. It seems the Councilors had managed to reach the nearby villages before the orcs, although Sebastian had already told them this would be the case.

Leading up the back of the small procession was Arthur the local wayfinder from the church of Cenric. He was sitting on one of several carts of local consumables he had bought from the fleeing villagers for a fair price, even if he could had taken them for a steal. He knew the Watch Captain, who for some reason wanted enough food to go round the whole city, would not have approved if he had short changed the locals.

Kurth could be seen from the thinly manned walls of the City. From this distance it seemed he commanded a plume of smoke that seemed to move as he willed. Those that wandered closer to him could see it seemed to be a large swarm of bees.
Vinnie of the fey folk was starting to get restless. Not the most patient of creatures at the best of times, he was bored of preparing to defend his city, and eager for the opportunity to test out his spells. Seeing a dark bird fly over a building he sprinted off after it.

Sebastian was standing around several hysterical women, sobbing and crying, having been told their husbands were going to die at the hands of orcs.

Ace strode into the main square, giving his fellow Knight Morgan a nod, before picking up a generously packed bacon roll from Harleys spread. He thanked Harley for the snack, before saying what a shame it was Gimley was not here. Harley seemed to miss the remark, carrying on his way round the city folk, handing out cheese and bacon rolls, bacon based snacks, and various other local delicacies.

The initial panic that has spread amongst the locals seemed to have subsided. Various heroes of the land had been taking the time to advise them on the best course of action (in their opinions) for when the attack came, and they seemed focused on going about these. For some it was preparing to man the walls, others mending or sharpening blades, and for some it was simply to barricade their hovels as best they could.

Chieftain Ragnorage brooded in front of a large bonfire made from the remains of the latest abandoned settling they had come across. If he had not listened to his Witchdoctors advice they may have reached the settlements before the pink skins that lived there had a chance to flee. But then, if they had not made their journey down the large crack in the base of a mountain they would not have emerged with the hird of cave goblins they had enslaved. The head of their leader hung by its hair around his belt.

The beggers were being suspiciously helpful. A small group followed each councilor, and each mercenary had at least one nearby, all ready to help as best they could and go about whatever tasks were asked of them. The local gypsy and Craftenguilder Sebastian explained to anyone who would listen that the attack that would befall the City would be one of the integral events that would galvanize the City and make it into the Great City it was destined to become. He has seen it in his cards.

Seasons Wind put away the last of his ritual paraphernalia. The valuable mystical incense Morgan Sireless had grabbed from the absent Stadtus’s office were all spent, along with his mana and most of his energy. However, He had the light of the Sun ritually bound within the simple amulet he wore around his neck.

Templin Von Kel returned from the deserted streets in the far West of the city. Even for one of his heritage he looked pale and drained. A nasty smell preceded him, and a thick mist followed closely behind him.

A little later and the whole city had eaten something, at least. Where crowds had formed, any with the sight of the dragons or the spirits could see them lit up with the Rasha gift passed on by the ritual of the feast.
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JackFlashblade
post Aug 24 2017, 06:27 PM
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As the last of the newly arrived black orcs fell into line, Ragnorage slapped the huge orc who stood before him in friendly greeting.

Hersh the Defiler and he had raided together in the broken lands as young brats, before each went their separate ways and formed tribes of their own.

His witchdoctor had done well to find him, and port his forces through in good time. The weak pink skins would not know what hit their feeble City. He looked to the horizon and the lines of ladders his scavengers were tying together with still green vines. Ragnorage stretched his huge arms in satisfaction, and his tusks protruded a little from his mouth as he gave a smile to his old raiding buddy.
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JackFlashblade
post Aug 25 2017, 10:26 PM
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As the last rays of the setting sun died, the keen eyes of Vinnie the fey spotted the first of the figures slinking over the horizon. Dusk was upon Rodanne, and with it came the orcs who called themselves the Spitting serpents, and if word would be believed, their black orc allies. Sebastian had known they would attack tonight, he had seen it in his cards.

Vinnie called out to a nearby watchman and pointed towards the distance. The watchman squinted for a few seconds, before he began frantically ringing his bell, a sound that soon repeated its self around the whole of the small City.

Warwick had hardly slept in three days, he had been organizing the defenses, inspiring the locals, sorting the supplies that would be required and dealing with all kinds of issues that came up. As the ringing of the bells went up, it was almost a relief for him to know that the preparations were over, and now all he would need to do is defend Rodanne. A beggar ran up to him with his tarnished old mace and buckler shield, wrapped up in oiled cloths.

Kurth was not in the City. He was in the small glade he had come to frequent over the last few days, surrounded by a cloud of bees. His bees. He felt them moving, as an extension of his will, ready to descend upon any he willed it so.

Arthur had been scouting out the tunnels below the city. Making sure that those which were meant to be closed off, were done so securely, and those that were not were either inhabited by something that would put up a fight, or led only to the local mine fields.

Morgan has been moving out several families of dwarves who decided to set up home in the outer tunnels. Though stubborn as any of their race, these were not warriors, and were mainly children.

Seasons Winds head was light, he felt brining with power, though slightly faint. It felt like he was watching himself somehow from a few seconds in the past. He put it down to the ritual he had bound tight within the plain amulet around his neck. His fingers were itching to release it and relieve himself of the surreal feeling it imposed upon him.

The populous themselves were brimming with power. Almost all of them having joined in Harleys feast, even if for a few mouthfuls, they had been left with a tingling power inside of themselves, one they knew they could call upon for a gift from the Rasha.


The snaga had an instinct for it. Like most cities in the land, there was a honeycomb of tunnels below it. Most of those below Rodanne were either inhabited by creatures more deadly than orcs, were unstable, or led to the dreaded mine fields. Groinripper and his snaga had managed to find one of the few that had lead them safely up into the city. First they entered the basement of and old abandoned tavern, they headed up the stairs, without making a noise, sneaking through the dusty common room they came to the window and looked out at a few pinkskins milling around in the street. This area of the city seemed mainly abandoned. A perfect place from which to ambush.

As Ace looked out from the walls he could just make out through the gloom a large unit of black orcs at the center of the force. In front of them ran quick figures, snaga he expected. A small group of archers in loose formation were on either side of the black orcs. There were several teams of orcs holding aloft large ladders between them, and a group of ogre sized orcs with a tree trunk held between them like a battering ram. There were also various other smaller groups of up to about a dozen mixed orcs were advancing steadily in front of, or to the side of them. He ran through the words to the sanctuary spell in his mind as his waited for their advance.

The time had come for first blood. Groinripper, whose name he had chosen himself when he was a very yound snaga, decided it was time to lead his killers out into the streets and to find the weak and unsuspecting. Silently, and almost invisible to the naked eye, the snaga moved from their hiding place. They moved down the old street on the outskirts of the city, passing a side street thick with mists, before heading towards the center of the settlement. The pink skins in this area were milling around. A group of them were taking baskets and boxes of food from building and stacking them up on a street corner. With an almost undetectable movement, Groinripper indicated to his held it was time to strike. The snage moved forwards, pressively and undetected by their potential victim.

It was then that a mist seemed to over take them, moving quickly upon them from behind and engulfing the snaga. There were but a few shrill high pitch screams, cut short, and then the gaunt figure of Templin Von Kel strode forward from the thick smog. Looking down his nose at the terrified looking city folk, he told then not to worry, beckoned to the acrid smelling mist, and headed back into the less populated streets of the City.
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JackFlashblade
post Aug 27 2017, 11:12 PM
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Governor Winterbottom walked upon the damp grass outside his beloved Rodanne as the new dawn broke. Both his body and spirit were exhausted. His clothes were torn and stained with both his own blood, and the thick mucus like blood of orcs. He hoped with all his soul he would never have to endure another week like the last.

The night before..

Scratcher had been a mercenary for many years, though had been on less than a score of actual missions. He was a tall man with ratty features, and small eyes that burned with the kind of intensity that would often freak people out. He had been one of the first to move to Rodanne, having been living a somewhat basic life in a nearby abandoned farm, he had volunteered to scout for the advancing orcs, despite the late hour, knowing the rural lands like the back of his hand.

Scratcher, having heard a noise in the undergrowth ahead, stopped his advance and slowed his breathing as he listened out for more sound. This was his last act as a crude barbed arrow went into his eye socket, dropping him like so much dead weight. A few seconds later and the snaga were upon his body with their sharp knives, hacking off flesh, then pulling off bone, and even sucking the marrow from within. No priest was going to be able to bring back the body of poor scratcher.


The main force was a solid advancing block of dark figures, clanking in the gloom. Some of the advancing snaga blew darts, or shot their bows at the few figures standing upon the walls. There were a few screams of pain, followed about thirty seconds later by yells of agony as the serpent venom coursed through the defenders veins. Fortunately, foreseeing this Sebastion had sent some of the resident priests of Shaehan, St Michael and Talthar with a charcoal based salve to rub into the wounds as they called upon goodly spirits to sooth the injuries.

The giant orcs with the battering tree started lumbering forward. Some of the locals along with the watch shot various arrows, bolts, and even lobbed some rocks at them. A few hit, and one even fell. As they came into range, just below the gate, Morgan empowered his voice with commanding spirits sending several of the brutish orcs at the front of the tree to sleep. This bought the improvised ram to a standstill briefly, before other huge orcs moved forward and picked the ram up and smash it into the main gate. However, the momentum had been lost.

Other gangs of orcs with ladders ran up to the walls and dropped their ladders in place, before sprinting up them with practiced speed. Ace called the ivory drake to empower his sword before running along the wall smashing the tops of those ladders he got to. However, there had been several areas on other walls which were breached and fighting could be seen on the top of the battlements between man, elf, Halfling and orc.

With a final swing of the battering ram (of which there was little left), the main gates to the city smashed open, followed a brief time later by the colorful bodies of the orc berserkers in their blue battle woad.

They smashed into the group of spear levy who had been formed up behind the gates by Harley, the first few impaling themselves on the grounded spears of the defenders before Harley pushed through to meet then face on with his battle axe. Combat erupted, the first rank of levy dropped their spears and drew weapons more suites to close quarter street fighting, short blades, hand axes, and even a few heavy pots.

It was then that darkness descended upon the city from above. For a few seconds the defenders of Rodanne were robbed of their sight. Some called upon their Rasha boon to allow them to see through the magical darkness that had been called to their city. Others summon light to create pockets of twilight across the settlement but still fear spread among many of the less professional solders.

Seasons Wind knew that this was his time. He had transcended his previous mortal form, and now walked the land as a place spirit. His perception of the world had changed so much since this had happened that he sometimes found it hard to relate to his fellows in ways he naturally did when he walked the mortal path. This however was black and white. With a tug he pulled the dull old amulet from his neck and threw it upwards whilst chanting some indiscernible words. There was a sudden flash across the whole city as the darkness was stripped away and sunlight bathed the city. With this, the place spirit collapsed, quickly to be dragged to safety by Morgan.

Half blinded by the light, the orcs suddenly became a lot less aggressive in their attack. Many backed off, shielding their eyes from the cursed sunlight that had robbed them of their withchdoctors rite.

Ragnorage was furious. He chopped the head clean off the tall ratfolk that has swung at him as he lead his way along the walls towards another pocket of defenders. His war orcs had their confidence taken from them by the sunlight that now shone within the city, but still they followed him, more afraid of their chieftains wrath than any of the pinkskins.

As battle raged throughout the City, Vinnie was sprinting with all the speed of a swooping crow. He was starting to doubt the plan he has come up with when speaking with the tall pallid ancient looking fellow. There were a lot of orcs running almost as fast after him. He dared not look round, occasionally calling upon his fey like powers to allow him to jump forward a bit further from the leading orcs. Ahead he could see the slightly out of place wall, which he threw his dispelling magic at, making it disappear to reveal rolling mists. He quickly enacted the rhyme to conjure a wall behind him and allowed himself to slow his pace, and then collapse to the floor, puffing and panting. From behind his recently summoned wall he heard screams and briefly the sounds of combat before all was quiet. He started to retch a little at the acrid taste on the back of his throat. He could of swore it came from the mists he ran so quickly past.

Stadtus Ripley pushed through to the middle of the group, all his allies, before enacting a sanctuary. Suddenly the terrified watch felt a more lot confident, and started to push forward towards the sounds of combat coming from the next street. As he turned the corner he saw the battered figure of Harley and a handful of defenders locked in melee with a mass of huge black skinned orcs. Holding firm his enhanced spear, he charged forward to join in the fray.

The witchdoctor had more than one trick up his sleeve. Having found a deserted street, he quickly grabbed his favorite ritual objects and a matt from his bag and readied himself to release his next surprise upon the pinkskins. He quickly turned when he heard the squeaking of a door behind. Before him was a colorfully dressed fey, fortunately holding just some cards, so he drew his saber of darkness. The fey, looking far too confident, said he could see that coming, before throwing his razor sharp cards at lightning speed at the old orcs neck, cutting his throat and leaving him to slump to the ground.

Rugreth Rigach and Wrond were the best goblin herders in the tribe. They had their newly captured tribe of cave goblin slaves, bound together and armed with cast off weapon. Their chieftain had sent them here to herd them towards the South wall as a distraction. They waited patiently under the covers of the trees they had found so close to the City walls. A low buzzing sound came towards Rugreth, maybe this was the sign to attack? With that the swarm of bees flew into him and his fellow herders, furiously stinging them as they ran screaming drawing and flailing their weapons, before falling still and lifeless. Kurth Honeyman steped out from the trees, calling his bees back to him, before walking up to the scared and confused cave goblins. “So”, he said with a smile, “what have we here?”

Ragnorage was soaked in blood, and the fury of the battle was upon him. Despite the sunlight that had been summoned to the City, his presence was enough to drive on his orcs of war. He came to the end of a section of wall, seeing only a few child sized defenders here to finish off. One of them, clutching hisown hand disappeared. The old Cheiftain cared not, and advanced to finish the others when an invisible figure bundled into him with all the force he could muster at the height of the orcs waist. Caught completely off guard Ragnorage put out a hand to grab the wall, not feeling it he turned to see it had been broken away at this point, by which point he was plummeting towards the ground with an invisible Warrick still clutching onto him. A few seconds later and there was a dull thud.

Back on the battlements Arthur stood in front of a few terrified defenders, holding up his paired daggers defiantly towards the war orcs that had come to a stop after seeing their leader flung over the side of the battlements by an invisible force. They started to shuffle backwards, if he could do that to their chief, who know what magics the balding man standing defiantly before them could bring to them. It was then that panic spread along the lines of attackers and the orcs began to rout.

The Council of Rodanne along with the Knights and their mercenary allies had come through. Their newly arrived City had been tested for the first time, and had been victorious.

Sebastion almost resisted the temptation to point out he had told them so.
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