Alright, people, the time has come :
the very final post of the Riverguard.Or maybe not ; there might be a debriefing afterward. Or we can discuss how we'll follow it up. Or not. We'll see ; that's all I have in plan for now.
Let's march bravely toward the end !
*-*-*-*-*-*
With his dark hair with violet highlights, his dark brown skin and his piercing blue eyes, Snamoz looked very similarly to his ancestors of the kingdom of Egapesor, our trusted ally. However, his pure white silk garment and the foreign tongue he spoke betrayed his true alliegence to Osme's Empire.
It is a well established fact that goblin raiders capture infants from neighbouring countries to raise them as their own, and Snamoz would appear, to the traveller, as the victim of a kidnapping such as they perform so often. However, the young man had a wildly different story as much of his kind - the kind of humans that follow the demon Lomoth.
Indeed, both of his parents, and his parent's parents, were native of Osme Stobûb. His line has been working for the empire for three whole generations, raising themselves from slavedom to nobility, one step of the social ladder at a time. His great grandparents were but abductees - his grandparents were craftmen - his parents had ascended to nobility.
Snamoz was, most notabily, the son of Osta Hexcoal, the human lady of the pit of Apexjackal, ruling over a hundred souls. She had a wide descendance - five sons and two daughters, and all of them were eager to pursue the familial story.
Of all, Snamoz was the youngest, and the most eager of all. With not only the pressure of the Empire, he felt the need to perform incredible deeds to gain the esteem of his siblinghood and to pursue the familial dream of growing the clan in prestige.
With the fall of Shakenflame, Urnverses and Blushchambers, Snamoz understood he had to compete fiercely against the other imperial officers, and only one deed could surpass those of his rivals : the destruction of Watershield, his master desired dearly.
He gathered one hundred fifty warriors from the settlement of Sinshock, and marched to the Enchanted Swamp in the year 142
Snamoz looked from the corner of his eyes to his flag bearer, another human with Egapesor blood. She was like him - somewhat. Same blood of the southern humans. Like him, she had grown within the empire, but her line was not as long as his. Her ancestors did not had the time - nor the opportunity- to rise from the bottom of the pit. Her name was Nguslu. Snamoz felt no kinship toward her. For now, she was an asset - her own mother sitting at a comfortable local military office. Maybe when Watershield was in ruin, he'd marry her. Maybe. That, he thought, would probably prevent her from sticking a knife in his back.
But for now, the work was still to be done.
Snamoz arrived in the vicinity of Watershield as the sun was setting. His troops were well rested. He knew that, to breach the gates and achieve victory, he'd have to cross the green bridge, and that idea didn't pleased him well. Better, he thought, an all out battle where he could exploit his numerical advantage.
Another detail annoyed the young man. The wooden keep stood very tall before him, and through the windows, the defenders could clearly see the movement of his troops. With the Riverguard prepared to fight, no doubt that would be a tough battle - but such is the price to pay in order to shine in the Osme Empire.
However, as he approached the bridge, he came accross a strange construction. A seven meter tall statue, resting on its belly, made of pure bronze and apparently chained to the ground. Ordering his men to stay back, Snamoz advanced toward the strange artwork.
Music!Suddently, he heard a sound. He turned in haste, fearing for an ambush, failing to realize the sound of clockwork, and the earthquake that was to come, came from the statue itself.
The statue suddently came to life - its chains came loose and in a fraction of a second, the beast was on its feet, standing like a man. Ngusly dropped her standard and ran for her life. So much for loyalty, Snamoz thought - half a second before the creature seized him in its gigantic paw and crush him like a fly.
His army reacted like an army of goblins does - in utter rage and disorder. The bravest of them - a couple of officers, their elite troops and a dozen of trolls, rushed toward the beast, while the less courageous of them stood behind, unsure of what to do, scared to charge and scared to come home in defeat.
Odlug stood before them, slaying with a single movement all those who'd come close, sending them flying into the river or crushing them on the ground. However, alone against one hundred, the army of Lomoth ultimately managed to surround him.
The struggle was desperate for both parties. The goblins, wielding silver hammers and backedup by trolls, inflicted minimal damages on the living statue, while Odlug himself could not keep up with the wave of copper clad soldiers rushing at him like a swarm of hungry locusts.
The fight took hours. It is hard to imagine such intense fighting actually be a battle of attriction, but that is what it was. Deep into the night, the two evils of our world keep fighting. Goblins and trolls were exhausted, Odlug was missing pieces, and his broken leg forced him on the ground.
"Now is the time !" roared Prince Ryukan, clad in his heavy armor, lifting his copper axe to the rising moon.
"Cross the bridge and leave no one alive !"
And to give more weight to his command, he charged accross the green bridge, followed by his kights and his army. The rearguard was so absorbed by the fight that took place to the south they left themselves open to an obvious flanking - but had them prepared, it would have made little difference. The assault was quick and furious like a wildfire. Goblins broke at the first contact, like a clay pot falling on the ground.
Moments later, the rearguard was no more - the few survivors had flee so fast, their screams of terrors disapeared soon under the cries of startled night birds. The rest, corpses covering the wetland, and the vanguard of Osme, still fighting the injured giant.
We have lost one man, a young soldier by the name of Ostri, but the rest of the army was fresh and unharmed. The two opposing factions, however, were beaten up. It was now or never, our chance to take on both at once.
We charged.
Goblins and trolls were stuck between an anvil and a hard place. With nowhere to flee, to tired to fight, they were gutted almost without slowing us down.
We stopped for a moment when the last one drew his last breath. Odlug, the Dominant Scar was lying on the ground, like the wounded beast he perhaps was. After that treatment, the regicide beast was not that frightening anymore. His eyes shown no rage and no terror, but as we stared to the battle damaged face of the creature, we could - or was it our imagination ?- distinguish an intense suffering.
Silence took over the scene for a moment.
Last musicThen Zefer came forth, scaling the creature who was, even lying on the ground, of the size of a grown man.
He lifted his sword and without a word, plunged it into the creature's eye.
A flash of light blinded us, a warm feeling surrounded us, and when we could see again, a strange sculpture depicting three goblins was standing at Odlug's place.
We came back to Watershield holding that statue, and treasuring the jeweled sword that Zefer holded. The young captain gave him the name of Warmcrested, for in the innerfire of our defeated foe, the blade has been reforged.
As I write those lines, the copper walls of Watershield stand tall around the village. The magic statue stands now with us on the dining hall, for we finally made peace with Odlug, the Dominant Scar.
The temple to the god has been completed, and until we join our valorous foes in the watery graves of the Enchanted Swamp, we shall remain here to protect the border of the Nations of Pearls.
I have no doubt that time will erode our deeds like water does onto rocks. They were, after all, the deeds of very simple people, whose merit has been to face their odds standing still.
By writing down those words, I holy hope that maybe, in the far future, someone will find those written memories, and say to themselves
"They were the Riverguard - this is who they were, and that is what they did"
-Commander Pathril Omaaloc Anarsathet Ucim
Author
Topic: Mong Kima - The Nation of Pearls (DF 0.47.05) (Read 239181 times)