The Final Battle For Sukiskyn

Stephan parried to his right bringing his left boot around to push the Red Blade goblin away so he could bring his blade around. The Red Blade stumbled, almost laughing, and it was enough for Taras to get a clean slice.

The young man was strong and not wholly untrained in sword work. The goblin’s head sprang from its shoulders in a fountain of blackish blood. The jaw as still moving as the severed head sailed over the battlements, striking an ascending Red Blade.

Darya, for her part, was a woman possessed. Her home was invaded. Her husband assailed. Her son fighting for his life. Her battle scream was something no one, including herself, had heard before and it somehow penetrated the goblins catching, momentarily, their attention. She bellowed as she struck with a mace an unfortunate Red Blade who seemed confused. The stinking creature collapsed in a heap.

In that fleeting moment of the scream, both Pyotr and Stephan delivered horrendous wounds to two of the goblins. One fell back–stone dead. The other turned and wretched over the battlements. Pyotr grabbed a leg, lifting and flinging the goblin over. Its squeals faded into the chaos below.

More goblins tumbled into the room. Their entry was such that they were fairly easy picking for the five defenders.

“Die you gobs!,” Stephan yelled in a gruff voice as he hacked off a sweaty Red Blade arm.

Hasan couldn’t match the fury of the Susykyn, who were defending their home. He eased away from the melee line, which was crowded with humans that cut and thrust as the goblins charged two by two through the narrow doorway. Hasan tried to support the best he could with his bow, focusing especially on the left side of the line, where Darya stood in her leather jerkin, virtually unarmoured. But, while no goblin penetrated the line, the elf’s contribution to that feat was minimal.

Miklos listened to the shouts of battle on the battlements and from below. “Stay at the window boy,” he advised. “Yell if you see any goblins exiting in a hurry. I shall aid the defense below.” He crossed the room and entered the balcony of the hall. Glancing down the first thing he saw was Maruc backing off from two goblins. Well I can even up those odds, thought Miklos. Miklos could think of nothing better than to lift one of the goblins off his feet —he could hang in the air for a while. Unpracticed with this spell, but otherwise confident of the theory, Miklos formed the word-thoughts and encapsulated the unfortunate creature. Losing traction, his feet peddled the air ineffectually as he drifted upwards. Failing, caught in the net of the levitation the goblin screeched in frustration as it waved its shield and scimitar uslessly. Miklos smiled—I have you for questioning later my little friend.

The table splintered. At last the goblins had broken through – not as many as he had thought but it mattered little, as they would all share the same fate, thought the dwarf.

Maruc’s eyes were drawn to the huge goblin and his right hand servant. These were obviously some sort of leadership element to the assault. He didn’t think twice, ignoring the two advancing goblins and Feldard’s potential reaction He threw his last remaining magic at them. Spreading the incantation lessened the chance of the spell taking effect but if he could stay just these two brutes for a few minutes it could turn the tide of events.

“Blessed Halav on your carven throne! I, Maruc your humble servant beseach thee to stay thy foes with your might. Let not these godless heathens divert thine holy purpose!”

Halav must have been listening. As the last sylable of his entreaty left his lips the lead goblin was lifted straight off his feet. Maruc’s jaw dropped. It wasn’t quite the result he expected. The goblin charging behind gaped in similar fascination as his companion rose before him. A few seconds passed, then the priest looked back just as the goblin lowered his gaze.

Their eyes locked.

They both shrugged.

Maruc grinned.

They charged at each other. Maruc didn’t know if his hold incantation had landed until he saw the goblin drop to the ground, his movements frozen.

The dwarf, had held his ground and swung back his axe to cleave the obvious leader. But his swing met naught but air at the last moment, as an instant before the two were to meet the creature was stilled out of range. At the same time, one of the goblins moving towards Maruc lifted off the ground. Feldard took advantage of the situation and while they were unmoving, he stepped forward and beheaded one.

Only one lonely goblin footsoldier remained. His death chant pledge forgotten, the Red Blade turned and ran.

* * * * *

On the upper floors, the battle raged on. Stephan, Hasan, Taras and Darya had all sustained various wounds as the final battle continued. There were no more goblins coming. Those that remained were the last of the contingent, and thus they fought with ferocity.

Two more goblins fell. But, just as it seemed as if the tide was turning for the defenders, Taras caught an axe blade which pierced deep through his leather armor. He fell to the ground.

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11 Comments

Filed under D&D, Dungeons & Dragons, rpg

11 responses to “The Final Battle For Sukiskyn

  1. Hasan -6 hp
    Stephan -2 hp

    Taras: Dead
    Darya: Seriously wounded

    Maruc: 10xp+10xp+10xp
    Miklos: 10xp+10xp
    Feldard: 10xp+10xp
    Hasan: 10xp+10xp
    Stephan: 10xp+10xp

    TOTAL:
    Maruc: 17,840/24000
    Miklos: 17,925/20000
    Feldard: 17,920/34000
    Hasan: 17,255/32000
    Stephan: 16,815/32000

  2. Stephan

    Darya, herself grievously wounded, half crawled and dragged herself to the side of her fallen son.

    The vicious Red Blade the delivered Taras’s death blow unwisely took a half second to gloat with a sneering laugh.

    “Ba lak tu….”

    But his words were cut short by the ferocity of father, Pyotr. The Sukiskyn leader uttered a cry of rage and sorrow while hacking the goblin to pieces, several of which he sent tumbling over t he battlements.

    Below, Feldard was bemused to chunks of goblin splutting in the mud.

    Stephan, feeling a chill at seeing what was surely the death of his nephew, make quick work of the final goblin. The body was still whole and kicking when Stephan managed to send it cartwheeling to the ground below.

    “Humph,” Feldard said seeing the last hunk of goblin meat impale itself on a fence post. “It that all?” He was about to turn away when the last goblin splatted with what to the dwarf was a satisfying finale.

    “Now! There’s a punch line!”

    Stephan turned to do what he could for Taras. Pyotr searched his son’s body, hoping against hope life was still there.

    Darya sat slumped against the stonework. Her vacant eyes told the truth. Her son was dead.

  3. Hasan

    Hasan watched the young man fail, mutely, horribly, with no breath to vocalize his anguish. Hasan briefly rested his fist on Pyotr’s heaving shoulder, then left the family to their own.

    Coming downstairs he saw the remains of the lopsided contest. Gesturing at the enchanted goblins, the elf halfheartedly accused, “Your handiwork, I trust, master mage. We could have used your help above. Two of the Susikyn, Taras and Darya, fell; though Darya may recover, the boy will not.” He frowned at Feldard and Maruc’s clean weapons and said, “not much of a contest, in the end, eh? I shall scout a bit outside, I won’t be gone long, but let me see what I can find while you’re cleaning up here.” The elf slipped out the doorway and gingerly crossed the northern clearing.

    (Hasan hopes to make the forest land to do a brief circle to the east, searching for clues as to the goblins origin and methods. At any sign of danger, he will flee.)

  4. Feldard

    (not sure how DM will organise the order of the actions to fit with the comment above .. but Feldard is going after that last fleeing goblin)

    Feldard was still in the midst of battle-fervour, when he saw the Red Blade turn and flee. The dwarf, intent on the death of every last goblin… gave chase. Speed-wise, the goblin did have him at an advantage – it wasn’t wearing platemail; but Feldard was a man driven. He charged out of the broken doorway and across the compound, axe upraise ready to bring it down on the hapless foe just a step or two out of range. The moment it faltered – he would be on it and the deed done.

  5. miklosdostevar

    The goblin hung in the air. It had stopped struggling though but Miklos knew that the spell wouldn’t last forever.

    “Maruc?”

    The priest watched Feldard bound off after the unfortunate Goblin that had fled before Maruc had a chance to get a proper swing at it. “Stop stealing my foes Dwarf!” he laughed after his retreating back. He looked up. Ah at least there was this one. “Yes Miklos?”

    “I’m going to have to drop it soon. Be ready catch it.”

    “One sec, I need some thing to bind it with.” Maruc yanked a strip of a ruined curtain. “Ready.”

    Miklos raised the goblin to about ten feet and dropped him. That should stun him enough for Maruc to jump him. He cancelled the spell.

    With a cry of dismay the goblin plumited to the ground with a sickening thud. Quick as a flash Maruc kicked the scimitar from the goblin and pinned him , the platemail lending much needed extra weight. He expertly grabbed an arm and twisted it behind the stunned creature. Trapping the arm between his legs he fished for the other. Leaning on the prone arm sent enough encouragement to the goblin not the struggle too much. He looped the strip around the loose arm and bound it to the other behind its back frapping it in both directions. Lifting him by his bound hands he frog marched it to an over turned chair and righted it. There he tried to force the goblin into the chair but had to threaten violence with his flail before it got the idea. With the remainder of the strip he bound it to the chair then bound its legs together.

    Miklos clapped. “I’m glad for your dignitiy that I was the only one watching that display.”

    “I thought I did quite well.” he replied a little too defensively.

  6. Maruc

    Maruc watched the mage circle the balcony and descend the stairs. He looked ashen faced.

    “You need a rest. That poison hasn’t left you yet.” Marucs eyes returned to the captive. “Can you speak the Black speach of goblins?”

  7. miklosdostevar

    “No, I know a passable elvish. That is all. Feldard is your man.” Miklos replied.

  8. Maruc

    “Err, Dwarf?” grinned the priest. He returned to the doorway. The goblin had put a good distance between itself and the murderous dwarf. “Perhaps we should get him stilts? Or a warhorse? Warmule?”
    Miklos laughed. “I’ll give you a crown if you say that to his face.”
    “Well, I could talk to the top of his head…. would that count?”
    “Your’e a very bad man Maruc.”
    “Oh hang on, no its tripped over. Unlucky.” Maruc said with meaning. He winced at the spray of black blood. “Thats got to hurt.” He turned to the struggling captive. “I’m sorry, your mate tripped over and got, well, ‘dwarfed’ for want of a better adjective.”

    The look of incomprehension, or what Maruc thought looked like incomprehension crossed the goblins face. “Nevermind, I’m sure Feldard will explain to you all you need to know.”

    Maruc turned back to the doorway. Feldard was returning, coated in gore, looking like some undead revanent. His gaze swept back and forth expertly scanning as he returned to the homestead. He didn’t look in need of humour.

    “On second thoughts, you can keep your money Miklos.”

  9. Stephan

    “I’ll, get Kuzma.”

    It was all Stephan could say or do. He rushed down the tower spiral, wincing a few times at his own wounds, and emerged in the main hall.

    “Please,” he said in a weary voice, “where is Kuzma? Taras is fallen. On the battlements.”

    The fleeting hope that Havlav could bestow his grace upon Taras through his servant Kuzma crossed his mind.

    “Maruc,” perhaps you too can say a prayer over the young man? It might bring some comfort to his parents. Even now, they are alone atop with their fallen son…”

  10. Maruc

    Maruc’s head snapped up. “What news is this? Taras is dead? Of…of course Stephan lead the way.” Mixed emotions swamped the priest as he follow Stephan to the body on the battlements, but he hid them with a professional somber face as he stepped up onto the gusty battlements. The iron grey sky bleached the colour in the faces of Pyotr and his wife. The rustling of the trees sounded like a sea of lost souls.

    One look told Maruc Taras was beyond any aid he could summon. He knelt beside to boy he ran his hand gently closing his sightless eyes. He looked up into the pleading faces of his parents and shook his head sadly. An urgent sob escaped Darya. Pyotr stared, stony silent, a tear caressing his cheak.

    Maruc stood over the boy. He glanced up as others gathered around, grave faces and grim. He bowed his head. “To the halls of hero’s and enternal rest grant brave Taras entrance, Holy Halav. Blessed is he for he sacrificed himself for the life of his family and homestead. Few amongst us will have so noble a passing.” Maruc looked up. “Folk gathered here, fix in your mind his smile and courage. For these shall be our lasting memories and his final gift to us that have known and chreshed him as he has chreshed us. At the right hand of Halav Incarnate he now stands tall and uncowed by the ravages of time until the end of days when at last all of us are reunited with Him.”

    “Bury him at the foot of the halls he defended with his life as a blessing to this house.”

    Maruc stepped back, turned and gazed over the battlements and the foreboding wood, his knuckles whitened on the cold stone. “What a waste.” he didn’t realise he’d spoken aloud.

  11. Stephan

    Stephan caught Matvey as the lad made for the battlements.

    “No, Matvey. It’s best you stay. Your parents are with your brother.”

    Turning, he saw the ashen face of Alfana — new widow of Taras. Stephan went to her. The poor woman’s legs collapsed under her and Stephan helped her to a chair.

    “I’m sorry, Alfana. He fought well and died bravely.”

    Alfana looked up at Stephan with watery eyes. Then down at her midriff, her hand resting gingerly there.

    “Taras will yet live…in a way,” she spoke with choking words.

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