RP:Roldan Takes Kregus

This is part of the Capture of Kregus story arc.

It is night. The moon is almost new, and the sky is cloudy. The goblin ships are fully manned, their oars unshipped as they begin to move. All but three warships begin to move, heading out to sea. The docks run wild with gossip, telling of a naval force to the east, which had burned a small fishing village on an island not too far away. The rumors speak of a massive fleet, big enough to threaten any coastal city, and so the mighty Kregus Navy is on the move. Dockhands stop to watch as the crowded ships head towards the open sea, taking with them the bulk of the goblin military. There is little concern about this, however, for Kregus has gone ignored in the doings of the world for some time. Although its warriors have joined other armies, and its pirates have scourged the seas, the other cities have been far too busy to turn their attention on Kregus. Until now.

The night after the naval expedition leaves, six small fishing boats come in from the north. They seem quite ordinary, moving at a slow pace as they drag their nets through the water. The guarding warships ignore them, even as they sail closer and closer to the larger vessels. In truth, most of the goblins on board the ships are sleeping, or drunk, and so no notice is taken as the watchmen tumble over the sides, transfixed by half a dozen arrows each. Grappling hooks fly from the little boats, and armed humans swarm up them, their boots wrapped in cloth to muffle the sounds. The attackers are all hand-picked men, ruthless and skilled, and they do their duty swiftly and well. The sleepers die first, their throats cut so deeply that their windpipes are severed, preventing them from screaming. The drunks put up a fight, but the liquor they have consumed make it a short-lived one. The decks swim with blood, black in the night, and on the seaward side of each warship, a torch waves thrice, unseen by watchers on the land.

Ships arrive in answer to the signal. Shrouded in darkness, they are indistinguishable from the goblins' own ships, and when the guarding ships sail over to them, then allow them to pass, the nights watch of Kregus relaxes, for there must be no threat. But the ships are not of goblin make and, although they do not fly them during the night, each ship bears the banner of Larket, city of humans, beloved of Cyris. Five small boats slip out from the mass of ships, sailing under the cover of darkness off to the southwest. A twoscore more boats follow, at intervals, unnoticed by the few goblin guards. They slip up the dark river, rowing until they are directly south of the goblin king's hall. There, they pull ashore, each crowded boat depositing 30 men. This small force spreads out through the town, quietly entering houses and either killing or stunning the sleeping goblins, slipping into empty shops, and crouching in back alleys. There, they wait.

Once sufficient time has passed, more boats leave the enormous fleet. These row due south, heading for the easternmost part of Kregus. Once they land, they all prove to be filled with knights, archers, and men at arms, armed and armored, ready to fight. Arrows hiss through the air in unseen clouds, striking down the watchmen before they can sound the alarm, protecting the knights and soldiers as they exit the boats. More and more humans arrive, thousands in all, and their captains begin to put them in order, drawing up in companies and moving west, toward the city. A horn blast splits the air suddenly, frantically sounding the alarm before it is abruptly cut short. It is enough, however, to rouse the remaining garrison, and the battle begins in earnest. The humans, given their foothold on the land, push westward, while the goblins defend their walls and streets, checking the advance. Flurries of fighting begin on multiple fronts, filling the air with the clash of weapons.

At the sounds of fighting, the small group of men hiding in the town begin to stir. The remaining goblin soldiers dash by, coming from the king's hall to the battle. Once they are past, fifty humans emerge from their hiding places and rush north. The goblin king and his bodyguard -a score of ugly, scarred goblins- are yet within the hall, readying themselves for war. The king's slaves fetch his armor and begin to dress him, while his warriors stomp and posture, eager to join the slaughter. The heavy metal door closing the hall's cavern from the tunnel to the south suddenly bursts open! The fifty Larket soldiers flood in, weapons drawn, led by a man in gleaming dragonscale armor, wielding a gilded sword, its blade alive with fire. Howling, the king and his guards rush to meet the men, and the bloodshed begins. Roldan and his men outnumber the enemy, and they swiftly form into a wall of interlocked shields, which takes the wild charge of the goblins without breaking. Five of the enemy die in that first assault, pierced by spears thrust out by the second rank of humans. The king calls his warriors back and, bellowing at them in the harsh language of their kind, forces them into some semblance of order. By then, however, Roldan and his men have begun to close, the ends of the shield wall curving around to surround the small knot of goblins. Shrieking in fury, the king leads his men on a charge toward the thinnest part of the enclosing humans, hoping to break through. It nearly succeeds for, so terrible is the goblins' fury, three men at arms die at once, hacked down with brutal force. Slipping on the spilled entrails, the king's men gibber with excitement, seeing their chance at freedom. But just as swiftly, the Lord of the Vibrance barks a command, and the far end of the circle rushes in, taking the goblins from behind and slaughtering a full dozen, while the remaining four are forced against the wall of the cavern before they are able to kill more than another ten humans. Again the shield wall forms, centered around Roldan the Red. From behind his dragon helm, the lord shouts out, his voice flushed with excitement and victory. "Yield!" But the king does not understand the word, or else chooses to ignore it, for he charges again, his loyal bodyguard following, ready to die for their king. The four charge straight for Roldan, recognizing his status and, perhaps, hoping to kill him first to throw the humans into chaos. The three surviving bodyguard launch themselves bodily at the knights next to the lord, hurling both ranks of the wall back, isolating Roldan. The king himself swings high as he charges, hoping to remove his enemy's head. But the dragon helmet is not there to meet the blow. Instead, Roldan ducks, letting the blow pass overhead with but an inch to spare, and thrusts out with Judgment. The fiery sword drives at the king's belly, but the big goblin slides to one side, hacking backwards at the lord's arm. The scales there crunch under the heavy blow, but hold, so that Roldan's arm is merely knocked down and away, while the bodyguards die under a veritable storm of blades, taking five more humans with them. Desperate, the king swings his cleaver-like blade again, this time aiming low, but Roldan's shield catches the blade and turns it, and Judgment flies in from overhead, trailing flames, to bite deep into the goblin's left shoulder. Bellowing in pain, the king whips his weapon back around too fast to follow, slamming it hard against the painted dragonbone shield, following up with a vicious headbutt. The attacks both connect, but when crowned goblin skull meets heavy, dragon helmet, the latter wins. The king staggers and, head ringing, the Lord of the Vibrance slams Judgment home, piercing the goblin's chest in a sizzle of burning flesh. The king drops like a stone, as soldiers come crowding in, cheering.

Outside, the battle is all but done. Perhaps two hundred humans died at first, but when the seven hundred hidden soldiers emerge from behind the defenders, the goblins are caught neatly, and they begin to die. Organized, drilled, and experienced, the humans lock shields and press forward, killing as they march, thinning the line of defenders more and more. When the cheering sounds from the hall, the desperate defenders look north, hoping for salvation. Instead, armored humans explode out, bearing torches to light the burden they carry; the goblin king's body, stripped of crown, scepter, armor and clothing, held aloft by two spears that have been rammed into his lifeless body. A wail of despair sounds from the living goblins, and many throw down their weapons at once, preferring surrender to death. Some still fight, but they are swiftly killed by the superior force of humans, who sweep through the city, caught up in the joy of victory.

Back in the royal hall, Roldan seats himself on the big throne, his helmet resting on his lap, his pounding head in his hands as he calls his captains to him. At the lord's orders, well over two-thirds of the invaders return to the docks, where they begin to fortify the city against the return of the goblin navy who, once they tire of chasing the swift ships that Roldan had sent to reave and burn, then vanish, would return angry, to find their city fallen and their king dead. Kregus was his, Roldan thought, but the battle is not yet done. {{Category:RP Logs