Battles

The Ragh Hrafen Fianna

This is a record of the history and beginnings of The Ragh Hrafen Fianna, how they were born and how they came to be as they are now. It will, of necessity, be a long document touching on many events and happenings lost to all living memory.

The Ragh Hrafen Fianna is the most recent incarnation of a group of warriors that can trace its origins to the dark ages of the world. The name Ragh Hrafen Fianna  is a bastardized mixture of two languages;  Old Norse and Old Gaelic. Ragh is a mutated version of the Gaelic "Righ" meaning "King" and has been taken to mean "Royal". "Hrafen" is Old Norse for "Raven". The Old Gaelic word "Fianna" carries the meaning; "Warband" or "Warriors". Thus, The Ragh Hrafen Fianna can be translated to modern English   as " The Royal Raven Warband " or " The Royal Raven Warriors".

The Ragh Hrafen Fianna is a direct descendant of a group of warriors that left the Isle of Erin in the year 452 ER (Erdreja Reckoning) and travelled to Estragales. This group of warriors consisted of men of  the Wolf Fianna of Erin, the third army of King Gilomanus, behind the Fiannas of the Dragon and the Boar.  King Gilomanus had long wished  to revenge himself upon Hengist of Saxony following the taking of an Irish treasure ship off Cork by Saxons. On the ship was travelling  the eldest daughter of Gilomanus; Princess Elaine. She was ransomed back to Erin, but not before she was defiled in such a way that made her useless to the plans Gilomanus had to further Erin's influence by the marriage of his eldest daughter to Prince Erec of Estragales. The distance between the two Kingdoms ruled out open warfare, so Gilomanus looked for other means. In the long-standing border disputes between Estragales and Saxony he found the perfect way to bring Hengist to book. Gilomanus sent messengers to King Lac of Estragales and quickly the two Kingdoms sealed an alliance against Hengist of Saxony. Estragales and Lac would be rid of an annoying neighbour once and for all, and Gilomanus would have his revenge. Gilomanus provided much food and grain for the campaign, and also bore the cost of many mercenary companies to swell the ranks of Lac's armies. King Lac however, demanded that Erin blood should also be spilt in the campaign and so in order to seal the alliance, the Wolf Fianna was despatched to Estragales.

The Wolf Fianna were known to armies of King Lac and the people of Estragales as the Fianna of Erin. Their prowess and tenacity in many battles with the forces of Hengist became legendary, and  King Lac ordered them to be his household guard on the field of battle. In  their honour, King Lac ordered that they then be known as the Royal Fianna of Erin. The men of the Fianna were intensely proud of this epithet and adopted the name, calling themselves in the own tongue the "Ragh Fianna".

The wars with Saxony stretched on year after year and the Ragh Fianna's battlehonours grew. The Fianna became the most feared force in King Lac's army and their fame spread. In the year 460ER word of their deeds reached the ears of Gilomanus. Hoping to use the Ragh Fianna to train his own troops for a planned invasion of Northern Albion, Gilomanus sent word to Estragales recalling his Wolf Fianna to Erin. The messenger first presented himself to King Lac offering goodwill and another army of warriors to replace his Wolf Fianna. Lac greeted the messenger with fair words but deceit in his heart. Before the messenger could see the Captain of the Ragh Fianna, King Lac ordered the Captain and his Sergeants to Court. There King Lac offered the Ragh Fianna gifts and money beyond anything they had received before and asked them to swear loyalty to Estragales and stay.

The men of the Ragh Fianna had been away from Erin for the best part of eight years. The years in Estragales and Saxony had changed them; they enjoyed wealth and power beyond anything that had known and could ever hope for in Erin. Even the lowliest Ragger, as they had become to be known, was accorded the respect often given to petty nobles. Their reputation was second to none, and as far as the men of the Ragh Fianna could see King Lac and Estragales were responsible for all of this. Now King Lac was offering terms that would make each man  rich beyond his wildest dreams. The debate between the Captain and his Sergeants was not a long one. The troops were asked and the majority felt the same way.

The Ragh Fianna would remain in Estragales serving King Lac and turn their back on King Gillomanus. None however wished to forget the country of their birth and their nationality and did not therefore pledge allegiance to the Crown of Estragales. Instead the Ragh Fianna became a mercenary company and signed a binding contract with King Lac.

When the messenger returned to Erin with those few men who had answered the summons, King Gillomanus flew into a blind rage. All those who had returned were slain, including the messenger. The Wolf Fianna, now the Ragh Fianna, were to a man sentenced to death. Gilomanus also made each man an outcast, unable to return to his family lest they too be killed for giving aid to an outcast.

The Ragh Fianna continued to serve King Lac. As their numbers dwindled, they took on men from Estragales and from other nations and trained them. As they were outcasts, they attracted many of the same, both from Erin and elsewhere, including Albion, Teutonia and even Caledonia. The Ragh Fianna bonded these different cultures with a Blood Vow that proved to have enormous strength. The character of the Fianna changed with the steady influx of new recruits, but their fighting prowess did not diminish. In the Fianna, outcasts - men who had been alone, nationless and friendless and without a family found they belonged once more. They gained identity and honour from the Fianna, and fought like men possessed, sweeping aside all who stood before them on the field of battle. These years came to be known as the Golden years.

All things, however, must reach an end. In the winter of the year 469ER, ten years after their banishment, King Lac died. His son Erec took the throne and did not renew the contract with the Ragh Fianna. King Erec was young and jealous of the honour afforded to the Captain of the Ragh Fianna and his men. His advisors and mentors were many of the Barons and Knights of Estragales who resented the treatment and favour the Ragh Fianna had enjoyed at their expense. As a consequence, the Ragh Fianna found itself without a home, and friendless. At this time, the end of the Golden Years, the Fianna numbered close to two thousand men. Without Royal support it was impossible to retain a mercenary force of that size, and the Ragh Fianna looked doomed. In January of the year 470ER the Captain called his Sergeants to him at their training encampment on the banks of the River Seinte at  Orlens and ordered the Fianna be divided into ten Regiments of about two hundred men who would seek employment independently, commanded by their own Captain. Each Regiment adopted a symbol, the Raven (Hrafen) and colour to identify themselves, although all referred to themselves as Raggers. Whenever two or more Regiments served together on a single contract, the senior Captain adopted the title of High Captain. This historic division of the Ragh Fianna became known to all Raggers as "The Splintering", and its reverse, "The Joining",  has been hoped for by all Raggers ever since.

 The Splintering was accompanied by a treacherous attack by the forces of King Erec, who hoped to claim much of the portable wealth that each Ragger would take with him out of Estragales. Attacking at night, along the banks of the Seinte while the Captain and Sergeants were in Council, Erec's forces surprised the Fianna and carried the outer walls quickly. However, the men of the Fianna under their Corporals rallied before the inner gates and counter-attacked, throwing the attacking troops from the encampment. Then, joined by the Captain and Sergeants, the Fianna set about Erec's forces with a barely controlled ferocity. By morning, nigh on two thousand Estragalen troops were dead, the river running red with their blood. A further twenty-five nobles had been taken alive. The Fianna had lost two hundred and thirty one men during the night, and a futher fifty-seven  injured. Then there followed what became known as The Long Retreat, as the Fianna marched east with its injured out of Estragales. The Long Retreat out of Estragales took five days, with the Fianna fighting a rearguard action against harrying attacks by Erec's forces for most of the way. On reaching the safety of Teutonia the Ragh Fianna licked its wounds and in the summer of the year 470ER it finally disbanded, becoming ten smaller Regiments.

One Regiment, The Hrafen Caran Fianna, the "Raven Red Warband" or more commonly known as the "Red Ravens", so called after their blood red cloaks and shield quarters, were commanded by Thanor, original Captain of the Ragh Fianna. The Hrafen Caran Fianna crossed the sea once more to Albion and entered service with King Ambrosius of Powys. The Hrafen Caran, numbering about 150 men, won battle-honours against the neighbouring Welsh Kingdom of Rheged, and also ventured into Albion against the Angles who were using the wild borderlands of that land as a place to stage raids into Powys.

In 488ER Ambrosius died and was succeeded by his nephew Owain Ddtangwyn, and three years later the Hrafen Caran found themselves in service with the new King of Powys. It is a legend widely believed within the Ragh Hrafen Fianna, that in this year, 491ER, the last four surviving original members of the Wolf Fianna that left the shores of Erin in 452ER, quietly slipped away and returned in secret to Erin where they spent the rest of their days. These four survivors were Captain Thanor, Sergeant Diwrnach, and the Corporals Eachern and Oengus.

The Hrafen Caran Fianna continued to be involved with Powys and other Kingdoms within Albion and Wales throughout the next five hundred years, and they prospered.

However, in the years that followed a great shadow of evil spread across the lands of Albion. In the year 1080ER The Hrafen Caran, then commanded by Captain Arithon was in service with King Gereint of Norhault in company with the Hrafen Mor Fianna, commanded by Captain Ducas. Captain Arithon was High Captain of the two combined Fiannas. Norhault was assaulted by an enormous force of Fomorians out of the Underdark, led by the Warlords Shade and Geeva. The Hrafen Caran were the first force of King Gereint  to engage the Formorians. On a bleak mid-winter night, in 1080ER the Hrafen Caran were on garrison-duty near the border-town of Bernwick. Caught unawares at night and vastly outnumbered, the Hrafen Caran nonetheless fought like demons and held the Formorians till daybreak. Word of the attack was carried to King Gereint by two riders ordered away by Captain Arithon in the early stages of the battle. One of these riders was a Mage who was escorted to the  Transport Circle at Bernwick by a Ragger by the name of Thorn. Both men reached the Circle and they succesfully transported to Alwnick, where King Gereint and his forces were stationed. King Gereint and Captain Ducas with the Hrafen Mor immediately set out to the aid of the Hrafen Caran and Bernwick.

They reached Bernwick after force-marching for two days, but on their arrival found they were too late. Bernwick, a town with a population of 500 was razed to the ground. The Garrison fortress was a smoking ruin, devoid of life. At some point during the morning the walls had been breached by an explosion and the Formorians spilled into the fortress. The Hrafen Caran fought on for every room and yard, but they were slaughtered almost to a man. Captain Arithon and two of his Sergeants were found with a handful of men on the roof of the main building, where they had obviously made a last stand. One survivor was found buried under a press of dead bodies. Blinded and dying, this man - Caradog, told of the last hours of the desperate defence. The Fomorians had blasted the outer wall with some spell and the Raggers defending the rest of the wall were unable to regain the inner wall before being cut-off by the hordes of Fomorians gushing through the hole in the defences. The inner wall held under tremendous pressure until a battering ram finally brought the gates crashing down. The end followed quickly after that and Caradog fell in the main building defending a stairwell to the roof.

The Raven standard of the Hrafen Caran was nowhere to be found, although Caradog reported seeing the Standard-bearer go up the stairs to the roof with the Standard before the end. As well as Caradog's testinomy, one of the dead Raggers on the roof with the Captain was recognised as the Standard-bearer by the men of the Hrafen Mor. Shortly after telling his tale Caradog succumbed to his wounds.

Captain Ducas adopted the role of High Captain as one Ragger from the Hrafen Caran remained alive; Thorn, the man who escorted the Mage to the Transport Circle. The High Captain swore that the Hrafen Caran would not be reformed until the Raven Standard of the Hrafen Caran was recovered. The forces of King Gereint along with the Hrafen Mor managed to beat back the Formorians and peace was restored to the Borderlands. Thorn, sole surviving Ragger of the Hrafen Caran, was haunted by the loss of all of his comrades and was driven as a man possessed to avenge their deaths. Tirelessly he scoured the Northlands of Albion and Caledonia seeking clues as to where the Formorians had originated. The following year he found the entrance to the Underdark in Caledonia, in the Lowlands near Loch Etchechan. The depleted forces of Norhault were in no shape to stage any kind of attack however.

Throughout the following years, Thorn moved among the Clans of the Celts in Caledonia telling all who would listen of the danger that lurked beneath their feet at Loch Etchechan. His words fell for the most part on deaf ears. On his wanderings he visited a small clan village in the Western Highlands. There he was overheard talking by a young warrior by the name of Kenna. Kenna heard Thorn's tale of the Battle of Bernwick and the destruction of the Hrafen Caran and was deeply moved. Also present at Thorn's tale was Tegid Cuolluma, a Druid from Enys Skye.

 Tegid Cuolluma that night had a vision in which he saw the Raven Banner of the Hrafen Caran rising from a Lake. The Raven Banner was torn and blood-stained, but as the water from the Lake drained away he saw the blood drain away with it. As the Sun rose over a mountain peak and caught the Banner, the tears and wounds healed, and the Banner was made anew. The Raven Banner was carried to the shore by a man with red hair. Three men stood and watched this happen from the mountain top. Two had swords and shields in their hands. The shields had red and purple quarters. One carried a great two-handed axe and had a red and purple shield on his back. All wore red cloaks.
 
Tegid  Cuolluma made his vision known to the villagers of the Clan McCord, and promised Thorn that a man would come who would recover the Raven Banner of the Hrafen Caran Fianna, and that  together with three other men, he would carry the destiny of the Hrafen Caran onward.

Thorn left the McCord Clan heartened by the words of Tegid Cuolluma and returned to the rebuilt Bernwick now garrisoned by the Hrafen Mor. He passed on the words of the Celt Bard to Captain Ducas who listened but was sceptical. Nonetheless Captain Ducas recorded the words of Thorn And Tegid Cuolluma in a diary. Later that year, 1082ER, Thorn was taken ill and died.

In the year 1091ER the Fomorians again began to stir. Led by the Warlord Shade, their forces invaded from the Underdark and again began to ravage the lands of Caledonia. Cerridwen, Queen of the Celts, called a Gathering of the Clans and the Formorians were defeated at the battle of  Southferry. In this battle, a young man previously a war-slave to Slaine McRoth earned his freedom. That young man was Kenna McCord - the same man who had heard the words of Tegid Cuolluma nearly ten years previously.

This time the Formorians did not retire to the Underdark, but remained in the lands of the Sun and continued to ravage Caledonia. The war raged on with neither side gaining the upper hand until Cerridwen again united the Clans at a Gathering the following year. The Caledonians, Highlanders and Lowlanders alike, fought as brothers, all differences and disagreements between them forgotten. This battle, on the shores of Loch Etchechan was decisive, and the Formorians were utterly destroyed.

Kenna McCord, who had in the year between the battles risen to a position of some importance within the clans, became isolated from his clansmen during the battle and fell through a crevasse which opened up in the earth beneath his feet. He found himself in a cavern. Bruised and battered and unable to climb back up, McCord tried to find a way out, but only succeeded in delving deeper into the earth. As he wandered it became clear to McCord that he had stumbled into the upper passages leading to the Underdark. After several days of wandering in tunnels and caverns, hiding from several Formorian patrols,  he found a cave in which was lying a dirty and torn piece of material. Curious,  he picked it up and found he was looking at a Raven. Dirty, blood-stained and torn, but a Raven nonetheless. The embroidery beneath the Raven was frayed, but he could just read "Hrafen Caran".

His mind went back to the stranger from the south who visited his village in his youth all those years ago, and the story that he told. He also remembered the promise made to the stranger by the bard, Tegid Cuolluma.

After another several days of wandering, McCord eventually found a way out and emerged from a cave onto the Loch shore. There was no way up an unscalable cliff behind him and so he was forced to swim around a rocky outcropping to a small beach where he could easily climb up. He was seen wading up out of the Loch by a friend Lachlan McGrath, a grizzled old roman trained warrior, who had thought him dead and lost in the battle. McGrath was with two others, men who had for their own reasons joined the Clans in fighting the Formorians. These were Gleg Feng, a streetwise man of Albion, and Bunbjorn Bunbjornsson, a  big Norscan who was famous for fighting with a huge two-handed axe. Both had previously met McCord in the Queens Court and they had struck up a friendship. Together all three helped McCord back to the camp of Queen Cerridwen.

Later however, in the celebrations following the victory, Kenna McCord was set upon by a nephew of King Alan MacAllon and several of his friends, when an argument fuelled by ale and mead got out of hand. In the fight McCord would have been killed had he not been aided by six of his friends; Lachlan McGrath, Gleg Feng, Bunbjorn Bunbjornsson and three other friends; Kel Mannon, a far travelled Bard of the Bretai tribe, Culhain, the Herald of Cerridwen's Court and Tarian McRoss, an ex-Captain of the Queen's Guard. McCord killed the young man. He and the others had in fact acted in self-defence and were not to blame, but King MacAllon wanted all seven dead. The Queen interceded and remembering their past service, banished them all from the Clans and from Caledonia. This killing and subsequent banishment came to be known in the Highlands as the "Lladdwr Tras", or "The Kinslaying".

McCord and the others travelled south into Albion and the border town of Bernwick. At the entrance to the town, they were searched by men of the Hrafen Mor who were on gate duty. McCord's backpack was tipped out, and the Banner of the Hrafen Caran fell out onto the floor. The Banner was recognised by one of the searching Raggers and Kenna and the others were hauled before Captain Ducas. Ducas listened to the McCord's tale and recalled the words of his own vow and the words Thorn spoke of the prophecy of Tegid Cuolluma. He looked at McCord's red hair and realised the old Bard from Enys Skye had seen with the second sight of the Ancestors in his vision. Ducas spoke at length of the history of the Banner McCord now carried. In the garrison fortress where the Hrafen Caran had been wiped out all those years ago, Kenna McCord found that though outcast as he was from his own people, he had in fact come home.

McCord, McGrath, Feng, Bunbjornsson, Mannon and the others drew together and with little discussion agreed that their course was clear. The Hrafen Caran would live again, born in the place of its death. McCord would reform the Hrafen Caran at Bernwick, adopting the colours of  old. McCord and the others however, in respect and deference to Queen Cerridwen who had spared their lives, agreed that the reborn unit would bear the name of Ragh Hrafen Fianna. Captain Ducas, a party to these discussions, listened and did not object to this departure from recent tradition, seeing in it echoes of a Golden age, and took it as a sign of better times to come. The Banner of the Hrafen Caran was made anew, and now bore the name of the Ragh Hrafen Fianna.

Thus was born the Ragh Hrafen Fianna. Its own history and list of battlehonours under Captain McCord is an illustrious one, but that, as they say, is another story……..

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15 days since the call to arms – Dunedin Bell Tower

Perched high in the bell tower, Kavel surveyed the land around him. The Fianna had reached Dunedin and were now waiting. It wouldn’t be long now….the skies had darkened and snow had begun to fall, small flakes at first, but quickly they grew in size. The winds picked up, lashing the flakes around, making visibility extremely poor. Bitter cold, driving snow…..this was the doing of Kald Afar Magics.

Kavel felt the excitement grow inside of him, he’d fought at Valhalla, but this was different. He wasn’t surrounded by the wolf armies, instead this was a small Ragger contingent with orders to hold the town for as long as reasonably possible, and up on the bell tower in the freezing cold, Kavel was alone.

The bowman continued to stare into the distance, his elven eyesight sharp as a hawk. Movement flickered, far off to his right. Kavel reached down and picked up an arrow, slowly bringing it to his mouth, licking the fletchings before drawing his bow.

15 days since the call to arms – Streets of Dunedin

Sergeant Quinnan McCaffrey looked at the three men before him. To the right stood Sergeant Finnigan Kaff, his ice white eyes, blending into the snow all around, giving him a ghostlike appearance in the arctic conditions. To the left Corporal Calbha mac Scaffa U’leary was rising from where he had etched the Fianna Raven into the fresh blanket of snow. In the middle stood the latest recruit, a fellow refugee displaced from Orkenjar, Druss the lumbering Bearkin.

“Babh” growled the beastkin.

“Aye, Babh, Raven Goddess of War & Death, totem of the Fianna. We’ll leave her a few offerings soon enough” voiced Calbha

At that moment, an arrow thudded into the ground between them, spraying Kaff with flecks of snow.

Quinnan looked at the fletchings, all of them red. He glanced up from the Raven, which now looked as though it was clutching an arrow, past his brothers in arms and towards the edge of the village.

“It has begun”, Quinnan whispered.

16 days since the call to arms – Bell Tower Dunedin

It had been a bloody and ferocious night, units of Orcs had attempted to gain access to the town, but the Fianna dug in at the edges of Dunedin had fought valiantly and held off the attack. Where once had been crisp white snow, there was now just a bloody mess, red and black smear marks where bodies had fallen and been trampled.

Kavel rubbed his eyes, rimmed in red, through lack of sleep. As dawn had broken, the Orcs had fallen back offering a little respite. Looking to the edge of town, Kavel could see Sergeant McCaffrey helping the men, re-build defences, plugging gaps with the bodies of Orcs….nothing would go to waste in the defence of the town.

Through another of the windows, down on the centre of the town on the Market Square, Sergeant Heather Gorden covered the face of a young recruit. An innocent looking lad, in his first battle, his face almost angelic and at peace. This picture betrayed the fatal wound sustained to his body. He was not the first to die, and would not by any means be the last.

Snow began to fall again, and Kavel quickly raced to the north facing window, looking out as far as possible. He couldn’t see anything yet, but he knew they were coming again.

As he reached down and plucked up a red signal arrow, Kavel knew it was going to be a long day…..

2nd day of the defense of Dunedin
16 days since the call to arms– Bell Tower Dunedin

‘There he is’, thought Kavel as he finally found the location of an Orcish sniper who’d been taking shots at the Fianna Command.

As Kavel pulled the bow strings back the wood of the bow’s body creaked with the additional strain, required to flight the arrow through the wind and snow.

Lightly toned muscles flexed, as he drew the string, the fletching brushing against the elf’s cheek. One eye closed, Kavel focused on the orc, hidden behind boulders on a rise close to the northern front. The elf quivered with surprise as he realized the orc had trained it’s sights on him, an arrow notched in a finely made Ice Elf bow.

Kavel re-adjusted the bow, loosed his grip, and the arrow sped from the strings and out into the sky, zipping down, arching to the left on the breeze, down, down………….

Still holding the final release position, Kavel saw the bow fall from the hands of the orc, and to the snowy floor below, it’s legs rocked, knees gave way, and the brutish fiend pitched sideward with a soft thud to the ground. A small trickle of black blood ran melting into the snow, from the puncture wound in the centre of the orc’s brown forehead, a Fianna arrow firmly embedded within.

2nd day of the defense of Dunedin
16 days since the call to arms– Edge of town

The sounds of battle were immense, with the cries of pain, shouts of terror, the clang of metal on metal, but most disturbingly the dull thud and snapping of limbs as metal tore at flesh and bone alike.

The orcs were crazed, jumping over each other in their attempt to maul the humans and elves. Time and time again the Fianna stood their ground, the military precision and training taking control of the mad rushes and unordered chaos of the orcish ranks.

Corporal Snorri McKenna, took a blow on the shield and counter attacked with a vicious swipe across the face of his attacker, sending another beast into oblivion. A lull in the fighting, led to a breather and Snorri watched as the orcs fell back, heading out into the snowy darkness beyond his vision.

The scene around him was out of a nightmare, everywhere lay dead bodies, mostly orc, and all those standing looked weary, covered in sticky black blood, mixed in with sweat.

 

2nd day of the defense of Dunedin
16 days since the call to arms– Edge of town

Quinnan McCaffrey stood back, allowing Druss the Bearkin to treat a cut along his right arm.

A deep squawk to their right, led their eyes to a large black raven, hoping between the bodies of the dead, pecking at dark eyes of fallen orcs.

“Babh, comes to claim her own”, rumbled Druss

“She grants us strength, and t‘erefore there’ll be plenty more where t’at came from”, continued Quinnan in a harsh celtic accent.

The sounds of horns echoed from the darkness ahead.

“They come again” bellowed Quinnan, “Back to the defenses……….Good Hunting Men!!”

2nd day of the defense of Dunedin
16 days since the call to arms– Edge of Dunedin

Calbha mac Sacffa u’Leary, parried a thrust, with his sword held in his right hand, and brought the axe he held in his left down hard and deep into the throat of the orc, spraying himself with blood in the process.

He kicked the body away and ducked just in time to dodge a vicious swing from another advancing orc. The Ragger at his side screamed in pain, as a spear head thrust through his rib cage, ripping open the chainmail hauberk, and then a deafening roar rose up in Calbha’s head, and he felt himself floating, until he landed hard against a stone wall, the wind knocked out him, his weapons skidding across flagstones.

He put his hand against the back of his head, and felt warmth, as blood trickled down his neck. Looking up, three orcs, one carrying a bloodied wooden club, moved in for the kill, Calbha was defenseless, he struggled to draw his scram, when the first orc flew back, an arrow taking it square in the chest, followed a split second later by another arrow piercing the neck of another. Calbha tried to rise, only to feel the whoosh of something fly inches past his face, and a third and final arrow found it’s mark, felling the orc spearman.

Calbha staggered to his feet, “cheers mate, great shooting!”

“No worries”, replied the diminutive elf. “Lucky I came back down from the Bell Tower to gather more arrows and get my fingers seen to.” Holding his hands out, Calbha saw the elf’s fingers were red roar and cut down to the bone”.

With a nod and a wink, Kavel sped off to a healer, leaving Calbha to gather his bearings and re-join the defense of Dunedin.

2nd day of the defense of Dunedin
16 days since the call to arms– Edge of Dunedin

Kavel lightly jogs onto the now quiet battlefield, retreiving any arrows he can from the slain, to conserve group supplies. This is the worst part of his bloody work, not only is he under pressure to defend the group against snipers and drop enemies from great range, but after the battle he must walk across the blood stained snow drifts like some unholy scavenger praying on the dead. Forced to look at the grisly remains of those who he has has loved and been loved by, now frosting over as though their lives are drifting from memory, trapsing among the vile enemy forced to look upon their foul vistages and remove his arrows from their putrid flesh.

Kavel drifts closer and closer to the tree line, trying to retreive as many arrows as he can, when something grabs his attention . . . a small child bound to a tree flesh torn and crying for somebody, anybody to help. Kavel nocks one of his slender deadly arrows to the string of his custom elven bow, in anticipation of any trouble, but despite his weariness he finds himself inexorably drifting towards the child to aide her. He wants to cry out for help, but can see none of his commrades around. Kavel passes the first line of sparsely spread trees as he heads towards the child.

Within moments he has reached her, he carefully looks around with his accute elven vision. Seeing no enemy he is forced to drop his bow to the ground to unbind the child. As soon as his bow is dropped and he is behind the child, hulking orc warriors appear as though from no where, kavel is sure he can smell the stench of foul magics. By instinct he drops to his haunches and in one fluid movement slips his elven short swords out of their scabbards and impales the foremost of the orcs upon his blades. Kavel fights bravely, parrying and thrusting like an avatar of death, but the weight of number is beginning to tell.

Kavel feels magic stir around him and drops to the ground out of instinct, but to his horror he finds his elven short swords shattering to peices in his hands. A violent kick under the chin sends Kavels light frame flying through the air into a large tree, his right arm broken by the impact. The orcs close around him, frenzied murder in his eyes. Kavel glares into their eyes determined to meet death face on with a grim smile.

As death seems imminent Kavel feels a large surge of power close by, the orcs fly through the air as thought thrown by some colossal unseen force, scattering around the woodland, through the frenetic confusion Kavel hears a huge bestial roar and familiar accented shouts of "for Babh". Calbha, Quinnan, Kaff and Druss burst into Kavels vision, calling upon the the ancestor babh to fling their enemies out of their paths.

The Hulking beastkin Druss roars once more and in a frenzy to match any of that of an orc he falls upon the enemy his greatsword slicing through armour and flesh with equal ease. Druss's style lacked the finesse of the men of Erin and he came close several times to receiving a fatal blow, but his complete devotion to attack had not been seen of the fianna by the orcs and was taking a devastating effect.

Whilst Druss' berserker rage carried him through the enemy like a long ship through calm seas, the men of erin did not stand idle. Steel glittered as Quin and Kaff rushed to Kavel to use their Fianna coloured shields to protect Kavel from harm. They formed a deadly double team, mercilessly slaying any who stood in their path with a combination of well honed weapon blows with strength filled shield bashes. Calbha worked in Druss' trail, were it not for him Kavel was sure that dRuss would have been slain by attacks from the flanks and the rear.

Calbhas weapons venemously licked out, striking like a snake. His blows seemed to be everywhere at once, a blister of metal and spraying blood. In a short time the orcs were slain. Quin and Kaff and managed to provide Kavel with some healing, which took the nulled a lot of the pain. With no difficulty at all they braced Kavel on their shields and stretchered him back to camp. Druss wearily followed, his berserker rage leaving him physically and mentally exhausted. He leaned upon Calbha who valiently tried to take the Bearkins weight, to aid him back to camp.

They arrived at camp a long time after Kavel and two of the men of Erin, Druss complaining that orcs weren't made like they used to be, and Calbha vehemently deciding that Druss's food was to be rashed more strictly, incase such an occassion were to reoccur

3rd day of the defense of Dunedin
17 days since the call to arms– Edge of Dunedin

The orders had been simple, take a unit of men and hold back the advancing armies of the Kald Alfar as long as possible. Dunedin was to be sacrificed if the Fianna were outnumbered – each man and woman was going to be priceless in this Kald Alfar War.

Even orcs need to rest, and since they had fallen back during the night, the troops of the Fianna had taken leave to recover and tend the wounded.

A small reserve unit, had been busy in the town, barricading streets, knocking down buildings to hamper the advance of the orcs when they finally breached the outer defences. Sergeant Quinnan McCaffrey was sure this would happen soon. No re-enforcements were going to aid the Fianna, but more orcs had replenished the force opposing them. Urak-Hai had been spotted by the scouts, which meant that the next attack would be more ordered.

Thus far, the Fianna had done well, the orcs had made a small dent, but at a high cost. ‘Captain Kees Lew Van Mcklan would be pleased’, Quinnan thought. The Captain and Red Company Commander Einar Iverson were with the main Fianna force, forming the majority of Red Company under the leadership of Klaus elsewhere in Norsca. How the war progressed, no-one knew, no word had reached the Fianna.

Quinnan rounded a corner, to be greeted by an impromptu lesson of how to follow orders. A large crowd had gathered as the white eyed Battle Sergeant Finnigan Kaff laid into the elf Kavel, smashing his nose across his face with a full kick from his hobnailed boots. The elf flipped backward, landing heavily in the blood soaked snow.

“Listen up”, cried Finnigan “You will all follow orders, no wandering, no unnecessary heroics!!. Every able bodied man & woman is of the utmost importance. I will not have waste less death on my watch…..do you all understand?”

Silence

“Do you?”, bellowed the Sergeant.

“Aye sir, yes sir”, came the resounding reply

.......from the skies, the snow fell harder
3rd day of the defense of Dunedin
17 days since the call to arms– Edge of Dunedin

Drawn to a being below, and with a flutter of wings, the Raven descended through the driving snow and landed on the shoulder of the Bearkin, D’russ.

D’russ, flinched, back tracked a step, surprised by the new visitor. Quickly however, he noticed the small cylinder attached to the bird’s leg.

Taking hold of the cylinder, the lumbering man, pulled out a small strip of parchment and slowly unraveled the message.

‘Ragger Uther ap Green has departed with the required merchandise.
Strength in Fellowship – Captain Kees Lew van Mcklin’

Judging by the date, the message was two days old. Rolling up the parchment, D’russ ran off to deliver Quinnan the news.

3rd day of the defense of Dunedin
17 days since the call to arms– Edge of Dunedin

The Orcs, led by black Urak-Hai had returned late afternoon and were battering the defences of of the entrenched Fianna, and Orc and Human, bodies were everywhere. A moment of clarification ran through Morgan Fiannadottir’s mind as she surveyed the slaughter from the midst of battle.

‘Why?’ she thought, the slaughter, the war, what does it achieve? Who is ‘the’ person that says attack, these poor innocent people hiding behind the red and purple shields, what do they think?”

“Morgan, MOVE”, the shout ran through her like a mage bolt, and she looked around quickly as if it was the first time she knew her surroundings as she awoke from a daydream. Olaf Eriksson was running towards her, his movements caught in a moment of time ‘shouting and waving frantically’ his voice muffled through the chaos, she knew at that point, in that precise moment in suspended time that something was going to happen.

The spear, she saw it, almost examined it in a dazed curiosity, her mouth felt warm, tasting of blood, the iron spear head was attached to a crude piece of timber, the nails to which the head was attached, were rusted and weak, her chest red as the timber started to slide back out and through her body, her legs became weak as the weapon was removed, as if the spear was her spine her source of stability.

Anger raged through the eyes of her beloved as he shouted in horror, his huge war hammer meeting the spear with great swinging arcs caught in the sky. As Morgan fell looking towards the heavens, she saw the Raven perched closely examining the scene with dark content. Olaf’s hammer swung furiously breaking through the weakened spear and erasing the orcs head from existence. Olaf fell to his knees and held his loved one in his arms, she smiled, her face full of innocence.

Olaf stood, he felt the power of hate and anger pulse through his veins, three orcs faltered in their steps towards him, he stood over six feet, his broad muscular chainmailed shoulders filled the trench, his hammer resting on his shoulders the other hand bracing himself for support, this was no Viking they’d seen before, this was no man, this was a natural killer, a Lion amongst men, the warrior saw their fear, and smiled through smashed and bloody lips,

“Who’s first?” Olaf hissed.

The first came, too quickly and too clumsily, the Viking knocked the Orc’s axe away easily with his shield and the momentum carried the orc into the Vikings chest, where a firm headbutt smashed the orc’s face across Olaf’s steel helm. The other two teamed up quickly seeing that their comrade fell so effortlessly, whilst Olaf could taste the nasty orc’s blood as it seeped through his helm, both Orc’s charged simultaneously howling a warcry in their guttural tongue, one with spear the other with a crude weapon, more cleaver than sword. The Ragger parried the spear in a downward sweep with his shield, at the same time his war hammer swung in an arc meeting the sword and smashing it across the flagstones.

The shield followed into the orc swordsman crushing his bones against stone battlements, the last orc dropped his spear and reached for his knife, but Olaf was prepared, as the orc lunged forward ready to duck the swing from Olaf’s hammer that was rising above his head, but a typical Viking trick, with a quick change in his grip and the hammer came swinging downward then up between the orc’s legs lifting him into the air, causing a huge whelp to cry throughout the scene. The orc collapsed to his his knees, crying, screaming and unable to move, as he peered in to the eyes of the Viking, and saw nothing but satisfaction as the hammer came crushing down on top of his skull smashing it to the teeth.

With the last of her energies, Morgan managed to heal her grievous wound and stem the flow of blood, but the strain had been too much, as she fell unconscious amidst the death and decay.

4th day of the defence of Dunedin
18 days since the call to arms– Edge of Dunedin

The fighting throughout the evening and night had been brutal, with the Urak-Hai leading the rag tag units of orcs in vicious attacks and counter attacks.

The Fianna were still holding, but time was beginning to take it’s toll, and more warriors fell under blows which they should have blocked. Exhaustion and fatigue were creeping into the ranks, and fully 25% of the Fianna had met a grisly end.

Quinnan, McCaffrey the power of Babh coursing through his veins halted an Urak-Hai in mid swing and began chopping at it, axe cutting deep and true into the thick limbs of the beast. Without a sound it toppled back, to land on countless bodies piled underneath.

Looking around, sweat pouring down his face, Quinnan saw that the defences were near enough destroyed, the make shift barricades pulled down, the trenches full of the dead. It was now or never…..

The sergeant gave a pre-ordained signal and bundles of oil soaked pitch were hurled into the battle lines, as the Fianna defensively retreated, forming hunting parties as they moved. A moment later fire arrows rained down on balls of pitch, igniting instantly and causing black smoke to drift up and out creating a screen for the Fianna to fall back.

As the first orcs moved through the smoke, they were met with volley upon volley of arrows as the archers in the ranks covered the organised retreat.

The men and women of the Fianna headed into the streets to pre-arranged locations.

With barricades and collapsed buildings, movement through the town would be awkward indeed. As Quinnan McCaffrey looked back over his shoulder, at the smoke and fire, he promised to himself that the enemy would have to fight house to house, street to street for every inch of ground.

Phase two, was only just beginning…………………..

4th day of the defense of Dunedin
18 days since the call to arms– Streets of Dunedin

The sounds of battle dimmed as Clain slipped into the empty house. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed the kitchen area at the rear was a mess, pots and pans still on the iron stove, plates with rotting food still on the table. The inhabitants had certainly left in hurry.

Clain short in statue had spent the last few days working his way into the foundations of the bell tower, removing stones and replacing them with trunks of trees. His team of 5 had not seen battle during the initial attack, their orders had been clear.

With the foundations on the east side of the tower now substituted for wood, Clain had set the fire going. Eventually the trunks would burn and the tower would not be able to support itself and hopefully collapse, falling east wards onto a pocket of the damned Uruk-Hai and orcs, being held up by a force or Raggers.

Clain was filthy, covered in soot and ash. The plan had worked, to a degree, the bell tower had fallen, stones toppling down onto flesh, crushing skulls, splattering bodies. The main street through the town was now impassible, providing much needed time for the Fianna to regroup, but it was now more like a free for all. Organized attacks had changed to small units working their way through houses and over roofs.

It was into one of these bands that Clain and his companions had walked straight into. At least three Raggers fell instantly, bludgeoned to death by huge Uraks, their yellow teeth, dripping with blood from previous kills. Clain had run, his survival instincts coming to play – better to run and fight another day, than die, outnumbered and with no-one to hear you scream –

Numerous booted steps stopped outside the door, Clain scanned the room, he needed a way out, but there wasn’t one…………….

4th day of the defense of Dunedin
18 days since the call to arms– Streets of Dunedin

Four orcs entered the house, certain that their quarry had entered only moments before. Their eyes, skilled at seeing in the darkness peered into the corners, seeking their prey. Pug noses sniffed at the air.

“Me smelz him, butz me no seez him”, coughed one.

“Smelly oooman, wez will find youz”, snarled another as they rolled over tables and smashed open cupboards.

“Me nooos hez here me telz yoooo” hissed the first, but no human was found, not even a trace.

The room was overturned; debris strewed everywhere, then one by one, the orcs departed. As the last orc stepped out into the snow, it failed to hear the relief emanate from within the chimney as the young Ragger Clain slowly lowered himself back down into the hearth.

 

4th day of the defence of Dunedin
18 days since the call to arms– Just south of Dunedin

Uther ap Green, one time Corporal of the Ragh Hrafen Fianna, busted back to Ragger for displaying frequent drunk and disorderly behaviour whilst on duty, took another swig of liquor from his hip flask, and felt the warmth spread through this body. He grabbed the reins and urged the oxen forward through the deep snows that lay over the road.

The town of Dunedin was up ahead, the sounds of battle muffled by the steady snow fall. Uther looked over his shoulder at the huge ox cart, stacked to the brim with barrels of Byzantium Fire taken by Quinnan from the stores of that ‘Caliph wannabe fellow’ outside Biza.

The last time Uther had handled the highly unstable, explosive substance was during the assault on Byzantium, and then he hadn’t wanted to touch the stuff.

That was then though, now on the other hand, with the barrels in the cart, stacked precariously on top of one another, there was nothing to worry about, it’d be fine, Uther was sure of that. At least he thought he was, or maybe that was just the liquor talking.

“oh well, another one for the road”, Uther mumbled to himself as the flask rose back to his lips.

4th day of the defence of Dunedin
18 days since the call to arms– Streets of Dunedin

Moments in time………………..

...........sparks flew off the wall, as the cleaver scrapped against stone, and Corporal Snorri McKenna rolled to his side as the orc followed up it’s attack............

.........Heather Gorden gaunt from exhaustion, placed her shaking hands on the warrior, and watched as blood trickled backward, filling the wound, flesh grew hot, then cooled, leaving new skin in it’s place...........

............the ringing was unbearable, as the blow glanced off Finnigan’s helmet, all around orcs and humans shouted silent screams and curses, as the dull tone hummed louder and blood began to trickle down the side of his face...............

........straddled over the prone Uruk-Hai, Olaf grabbed the orc’s head and smashed it repeatedly into the stone floor, eyes glowing in uncontrolled rage................

..............Ander’s change was complete, saliva dripped from glistening fangs, fur matted with bile and blood. The werewolf howled into the night and dived in for more death, the smell of fear strong on the wind.........

.........the shield splintered, as another hefty blow landed squarely on the rim, Quinnan buckled, face covered in blood, his own blood he hacked down at the ankles of the assailant...........

...........bow string snapped forward one last time as Kavel’s final arrow hit home, sending an orc careering through a doorway.............

............a Raven circled above, drifting down in the wake of D’russ, feeding off the offerings made by the bearkin.............

.............Clain spotted a cart pull up in the market square, and a man climb down, then stagger before landing on his arse.................

Surprised that battle still raged, a white haired, pale skinned, blue eyed elf, stood upon a hill, looking down upon the town of Dunedin.

Behind marched an army of Kald Alfar.............

5th day of the defence of Dunedin
19 days since the call to arms– Market Square in Dunedin

The Orcs had taken the north and east sides of the city, with the Fianna still holding the centre and south. Both sides were tired, but continued to swipe, parry, punch, stab, hack, curse, scream and die.

The snow was falling heavier, the skies darker, even though by all reasoning, it should have been daylight.

Nessa, followed Uther and Clain, as they carried the last of the barrels down the hatch in the centre of the market place to the trader's cellars beneath. High arches rose upwards supporting the flagstone market square above. Where goods to sell should have been found, it was now full of barrels housing Byzantium Fire and fallen Fianna warriors that had perished during the first onslaught.

“Is it all set?”, asked Nessa.

“All primed and ready to blow ma’am”, replied the now sober Uther. He fancied another tipple, but his liquor had ran out as he entered Dunedin.

Nessa nodded approvingly, “Right then, we’d best get back to the thick of it and see if our Sergeants are still standing”

 
5th day of the defence of Dunedin
19 days since the call to arms– Wicker Alley, West Dunedin

Two units, a small contingent from Munin, the other Freke working together, Quinnan, Olaf, Snorri on one team, the other Finnigan, Calbha and Sven working typical wolf pack tactics. Quinnan’s group attack in a pincer movement, causing their targets to turn to defend themselves and when their back is exposed Finnigan, Calbha and Sven hit from the rear.

The small goblin scout group, totalling eleven in all crept up Wicker Alley their black beady eyes surveying the two storey stone built houses that lined the street, the sound of the battle still ringing in their ears as they were sent to find another route to the centre the town.

The Raggers were opposite each other the shieldman Quinnan and his group ready to pounce at any moment, Finnigan, Calbha and Sven talented though they were remained silent and unseen within the cold shadows, their tracks and those of the shieldman hidden by the talents of Calbha and the falling snow, their prey soon to meet their end.

“Quite boys,” Quinnan breathed, he could here their dark guttural tongue, their rancid smell whipping through the street, one hopped past, then another, their weapons, crude iron rungs…..the shieldmen charged.

Three goblins hit the ground before any reaction could be made, Olaf towering above them almost three foot higher than his prey, swinging his massive hammer sending the goblins flying across the alley, Snorri and Quinnan using their axes with precision, clefting key points in their enemy’s body, neck, tibiae, groin, taking them down easily.

Finnigan surveyed the battle and saw his point to strike and whispered gently “now” as the three warriors ran out of the alley their footsteps hardly making a noise against the iced snow, and the remainder fell with ease, not even seeing their attackers.

The goblin bodies lay motionless in their own black blood, one jerked, his tendons severed so he was unable to move, drowning in his own thick blood. Sven drew his knife to put an end to it.

“Leave him to drown. That’s an order boy”. Sven turned to see Sergeant Finnigan Kaff looking coolly at him with those white cold eyes, no emotion across his face, the rest of the group addressing him with the same stare.

5th day of the defence of Dunedin
19 days since the call to arms– Wicker Alley, West Dunedin

Sven had only been with the Fianna for a couple of months and this was his first expedition with the command group, the veterans, between them all, had been on the front line of every major assault and battle in the last twelve years, Calbha more so, having survived Skald the brutal and viscous battle that it was and the Kald Afar War the first time around.

Sven started to say something, however his attempt was met with Olaf gripping his hammer more tightly, Quinnan, Finnigan and Calbha doing nothing but staring, the stare that can only be achieved by a warrior that’s seen more death and suffering than they care to remember, he stopped, the sounds of the choking whimper from the scout sounded off as it met its slow fate.

The scene broke as Snorri shouted at the top of his voice, “TREBUCHET” the group looked into the skies as they saw the heavens filled with masonry, Finnigan saw it in detail, almost the whole side of a house spinning slowly as it decended on its target.

Calbha was the first to react jumping into the alley from where the sheildmen had first came from, Snorri then quickly grabbed Quinnan at the last moment, the Sergeant unable to react as the masonry crashed down past his shield arm smashing another wooden shield into splinters as he shouted in pain. Olaf slowly rolled out of harms way. The dust settled, and Wicker Alley was blocked, “Finnigan, Sven” Snorri shouted but received not reply. They stood in disbelief, that was it then, they thought, gone as easy as that,

“Lets go, move out,” whispered Quinnan as he managed to break the silence.

5th day of the defence of Dunedin
19 days since the call to arms– Wicker Alley, West Dunedin

Darkness, black pitch, sound numbed, the darkness almost consumed him, Finnigan heard his name, he struggled to open his eyes, a hysterical scream filled his ears, how long had he been here. He saw the huge piece of masonry filling the street, the dust was long settled, must have been over 30 minutes he thought, blood trickled down the side of his face, he shook his head trying to get a bearing on things, the scream…who’s screaming?

Finnigan looked around frantically for Sven, through the rubble and found him, impaled by a steel reinforcement in the masonry. He clasped his hand over Sven’s mouth.

“Take the pain,” he said coolly, thoughts racing through his mind, as all he could think of was how long this idiot had been screaming and given away their position. ‘It’s not his fault he’s green’ thought Finnigan, it was only his first battle.

Finnigan managed to glance quickly down Wicker Alley, the sight he saw made his mouth drop, as a horde of Uruk-Hai, thirty or more came marching down the alley. He cursed under his breath, they looked towards him suddenly as Sven lost the control of his pain and burst into screams again.

“Shout up now or I’ll slit you myself”, but Sven couldn’t stop he just kept shouting and screaming.

Finn looked at the Uruk-Hai again, they were now pointing to his location. There was no exit, the masonry had collapsed the alley from where he’d come and blocked the road north. He would have to climb the debris, but he knew in his current state he’d be filled with arrows before he reached the summit. He had no other choice, he drew his scram, as Sven the recruit looked on, still screaming in pain. His face almost said, “do it, the pains too much, do it,”. Finnigan’s eyes bore down as he plunged his scram into the man’s heart. Sven didn’t suffer long as he felt the cold embrace of death.

The screaming stopped.

Using what was around him Finnigan dipped pieces of masonry in the still warm blood of his comrade, then lay on the floor trying his best to contort his body, and rested the blood soaked stones next to his head, as the only bet he had was to pose as a dead man.

5th day of the defence of Dunedin
19 days since the call to arms– Somewhere in North Dunedin

…..using a door frame, Calbha dodged the attack, and rejoiced as the sword bit deep into wood, and snapped on the outswing.

Quickest to react, the Kald Alfar trooper backhanded the human, and sent Calbha sprawling across a table to land heavily (again) against the mantle of the hearth. As Calbha slightly dazed, staggered to his feet, he felt the cold, sinewy hands of the Ice Elf wrap around his throat and start to squeeze, crushing his windpipe.

At that moment, training kicked in, and Calbha spun 90 degrees to his right, reaching over with with left hand to grab hold of the elf’s hand, as it’s grip was forced loose.

In one swift motion, the Ragger spun back around, pulling the elf into an unbreakable arm lock, twisting the Kald Alfar’s arm away from it’s own wrist. Enormous satisfaction filled Calbha’s heart as he felt wrist bone snap between his fingers, and as he pushed down harder, the elf sank to it’s knees groaning in agony.

Reaching down with his spare hand, Calbha grabbed the fire poker, raised it above his head, and rammed it down, down into the elf, splintering skull bone, piercing brain until the point protruded out the elf’s mouth.

Calbha let go of the elf, and the pain of a savage cut across his waist received earlier entered his consciousness. He didn’t have time to worry about that right now, he needed to find a way back to the main force, after being cut off earlier.

Calbha continued his journey darting from house to house. Quinnan needed to know, that the Kald Alfar had arrived, and there were hundreds of them…………….

5th day of the defence of Dunedin
19 days since the call to arms– Streets of Dunedin

Corporal Culhain, fended off more attacks as the orcs pressed forward. Quinnan and his boys had returned an hour or so before and had helped defend what was now becoming the main route through Dunedin.

Finnigan Kaff had also just entered the fray mumbling about how Sven hadn’t made it.

At that moment, shouting could be heard and a figure careered through a window to his side, glass flying in all directions as the body landed, skidding to a halt in the snow.

Calbha mac Scaffa U’Leary rose to his feet, covered in blood and slashes, “Game over sarge, it’s game over,” bellowed Calbha.

5th day of the defence of Dunedin
19 days since the call to arms – Street of Dunedin

At that moment, the wall of the building that Calbha had flown through, came crashing down and a huge Ice Troll stomped through.

Heather Gorden, took a double take, as memories flooded back, of the Wolf Winter Feast some five years ago, when Ganymede’s pet Ice Troll, Storm had frozen the entire hall, leaving all at Ganymede’s mercy. It had only been the calling of her father Deimos, pleading for help that had saved Heather’s life that night. She’d thought the troll dead, but obviously that was not the case.

Corporals Snorri and Culhain both reacted with a handful of other Raggers to tackle the lumbering troll.

“Wait” cried Heather

Too late, the troll lashed out slicing a vicious wound across Culhain’s chest before it’s cheeks puffed out and the brute breathed a cone of pure ice onto the rushing men. Snorri swivelled, whipping his shield in front of him, to take the brunt of the blast, the others were not so lucky as the ice felled them instantly.

Heather reeled back in horror, as Snorri turned to face her, half his face burnt cold, trying to cry out, but unable through solid lips.

“Bug out” cried Quinnen, “Give the signal…..Anders, give us time”

As Anders raced forward, Quinnen picked up the old timer Corporal Culhain, drapping him over his shoulders, whilst D’russ grabbed Snorri, and with the remaining survivors of the Fianna, sprinted as fast as possible towards the market square.

5th day of the defence of Dunedin
19 days since the call to arms – Streets of Dunedin

Anders Ulfsson, stood between the now on rushing mass of Kald Afar and orcs, and roared as hard as possible, his fur vibrating, saliva splattering forward.

The enemy stumbled and halted, then fell over each other trying to get away as fear took control, images flashing in their minds of the insane, crazed, fearsome eyes of the wolf creature tracking them down, one by one.

5th day of the defence of Dunedin
19 days since the call to arms – Streets of Dunedin

D’russ raced on, the sounds of horns echoing throughout Dunedin as the order to retreat was observed. As he crossed the market square, he heard a second frightful roar from behind and wondered if it wasn’t closer than before.

Raggers poured from streets into the market square and began to assemble on the far side. It was to this that D’russ followed, dragging the half frozen Snorri McKenna behind.

5th day of the defence of Dunedin
19 days since the call to arms – Market Square, Dunedin

Quinnan was half way across the square when Culhain began coughing heavily and the Sergeant could feel blood seeping into his tunic and down his back. Stopping by the cellar hatch in the centre, Quinnan lowered Culhain to the ground.

“Get out of here man, I ain’t going to make it.” croaked Culhain.

“Sure you will, we’ll get a healer to you soon enough”, countered Quinnan.

“Too late my friend, we ran out….of hea…ling hours ago. It’s my time…..now frak off”

As Anders bounded past on all fours, Quinnan pulled out a tinder box and handing it over to Culhain, said the only thing required, “Strength in Fellowship”, before patting the old Corporal on the back and sprinting off to the edge of the square.

5th day of the defence of Dunedin
19 days since the call to arms – Market Square, Dunedin

Commander Storm had been waiting for this moment for five years. At last he was going to get to kill the Raggers, the scum who’d stood in his way time and time again.

Not on this occasion, no, Storm was going to delight his new empress and deliver the head of the human who’d had the audacity to try and poison her.

As Storm marched his legion of Kald Afar and Orcs into the square, he viewed the Raggers standing in formation at the far side.

Then closer not more than 20ft away, a lone man, staggered to his feet, clearly in pain. As he stood tall, Storm heard the clash of the Red and Purple shields snap into place, a cry of RAGH….HRAFEN….FIANNA emanate from the warriors and in a singular motion, they all saluted.

Storms eyes drifted back to the human, as it’s wrists flicked and light came into being. The Fianna on the far side, turned and disappeared into the streets as the singular man faced an army. With a blood filled smile the man dove headlong down an open hatch in the ground.

At first there was nothing, then only searing pain and eternal darkness.

 

5th day of the defence of Dunedin
19 days since the call to arms – High above Dunedin

The Raven circled in the air, watching the events unfold below. A human had disappeared down a hatch, a split second of silence that followed was suddenly shattered as a huge, and deafening explosion rendered the stillness. Air was sucked into the centre and then spat skyward in a torrent of red and orange flame, heat evaporating all within its reach, flagstones splintered and shredded flesh.

Whole pieces of masonry and bodies, flew into the air, only to come crashing down on terrified Kald Alfar and orcs.

Where scores of warriors had stood, there was only a void, blood splattered and smeared in all directions.

The Raven looked north and saw hundreds more of the beings known as Ice Elves enter Dunedin. To the south the battered and blood soaked humans were heading in the direction of Noatun.

Flames were now spreading across Dunedin, eating all in it’s path. Even with it’s limited intellect the Raven knew the Kald Alfar wouldn’t be delayed long, and they would want vengeance.

5th day of the defence of Dunedin
19 days since the call to arms – South of Kald Alfar held Dunedin

Quinnan McCaffrey knew Dunedin had been lost, but the Fianna had never been there to hold the town. The Kald Alfar forces had been delayed for five days, he only hoped that it was enough. Inside he felt only pride for the warriors that had entered Dunedin.

As he trudged through the snow, Quinnan was certain that maybe, just maybe he saw stars above the town, the first break in the clouds for days.

 

---

Shadow Company – Orc Outpost 1096 – Target Retrieval

The Ragh Hrafen Fianna, strong, organised and formidable opponents. Enemies see them forming across the field of battle due to the Red and Purple shields glaring across the wind swept grass. What those outside the Raggers do not know, is that we are more than a target to be singled out or the wave that crushes those in the line of fire.

Unseen, unheard, lethal to those unfortunate enough to wander across their path, members pass through the night casting dark shadows, only fleetingly visible in the pale moonlight.

The year was 1096, at the edge of the Picta Forest on a rocky outcrop overlooking the northern lands of Orkenjar; Orcs had set up a small outpost. These Black Orcs had begun to raid a number of the outlying villages, and the farmers were becoming increasingly concerned. During the debrief, Duke had stated that the Outpost was only the eye, providing sight for the command group hidden elsewhere. An all out attack had been disregarded as the outpost was easily defendable, with the North and West sides closed off due to sheer cliff faces, followed by the East offering considerable killing ground. Attack via these routes would result in almost certain death. The only other option was from the South, through the forest itself, but this would take time and the thick foliage would only hamper the warriors.

The decision was taken to send in a small force to steal all material concerning military orders, possible movements and if possible retrieve any communication device which would blind the Black Orc Command, whilst at the same time causing chaos in the Outpost itself. Three men were chosen to enter the forest and under the cover of darkness, approach the camp from the South through the forest, and gain entrance.

The three were young, only being sworn in as Brothers a little more than a year previous, but already Jacob Aleerson had been promoted to Corporal after showing courage and leadership qualities in recent battles. This was to be his first mission in command, and he was determined that it was to run smoothly and above all successfully. Seth Galbraith the Mummer Player’s son had just reached his 19th year although judging from his brother’s attitude it may have well been his 9th. Jacob could see the absolute pleasure or was it smugness in Seth’s face when he was called forward to join the trio, rather than his older sibling Starious. If anyone wanted to prove his own ability and capacity to rise to the occasion, it was no-one, more so than Seth; having lived under his brother’s shadow all these years. It was quite ironic that his chance would come as a member of a Company whose sole survival rested on the ability to remain hidden and unseen, maybe that was why he had been chosen. The final Ragger to be selected was Johan Yaccobsson, a Viking from the mainland on Norsca. With flame red hair and a killing speed of mere seconds, both Jacob and Seth knew why Johan was coming along. Although not always the most quick-witted, he was one of the most accomplished fighters in the Fianna, and an advantage in any situation.

Shadow Company was on the move, three figures moving swiftly through the thick forest, the only spectator a night owl high in the branches surveying the intruders on it’s territory. The men were light of foot, as speed was the essence. This mission required no chainmail, no heavy shield and accompanying sword, only the brown and grey of their nightwatch tunics. The only defence a long scram, newly sharpened hanging at their belts. Silence was the key; any open combat would clearly result in death…their death. Looking up, through the branches, Johan quietly thanked the Gods for the cloud cover that would protect their movements and hopefully leave them undetected.

As the ground became steeper, the trees began to thin, and the South side of the outpost came into view. A winding path led up the slope to the edge of the camp, and then spilt into two, with the left fork leading into a cave. The entrance was small, only large enough for one maybe two humans to enter at a time, but only then at a crouch to avoid the low over hanging ceiling. A faint flickering light could be seen emanating from within. The right fork meanwhile carried forward, and bent around the cave entrance, which formed an outcrop, some 20 feet further ahead.

“Candle light”, Seth offered at the bottom of the path, pointing in the general direction of the cave.
“Aye, I’ll bet it’s a sentry post at that”, came the reply from the newly promoted Corporal.
“Wait, movement ahead”.
A shadow briefly blocked the candlelight and then ventured outside into the open air. ‘He couldn’t have spotted us from inside there….shit it’s coming towards us’, thought Seth as he felt the adrenaline begin to course through his veins. As the being came closer, the bodies of the Raggers tensed, their full concentration aimed at the creature slowly making its way down the path. A break in the clouds allowed the moon to shine through revealing a Black Orc, clearly a foot taller than an average human, armed only with a long sword carried at the side. A large gash along the side of the chainmail kept together with thonging, suggested that this orc was not the original owner.

The orc had reached the centre point between the cave and the position the Raggers were holding when it stopped suddenly. The orc sniffed the air, as human hands tightened around scram handles waiting for the inevitable to take place, but the orc turned to the side and began to fumble with it’s dirty trousers, heaving a huge sigh of relief shortly afterwards. The sound of trickling then drifted over to the three men. ‘Its taking a bloody piss’, thought Seth as a smile slowly crept across his face.

“Leave this to me”, whispered Johan. Jacob nodded his agreement and allowed the Viking to edge forward, carefully choosing his steps in order to creep up behind the pissing orc. From the bushes Jacob and Seth saw the dark shape of Johan swiftly glide up the path and rise up behind the creature. Johan moved quickly and surely, killing the orc instantly as he drove the point of his scram through the back of it’s neck and up into the brain, severing the spinal cord. He slowly lowered the orc to the ground and gestured towards the others to follow.

The reunited threesome quickly hid the body in the underbrush and headed up the path and into the cave. As it turned out, the cave tapered out after only seven or eight feet. An old and smelly straw mattress lay on the floor accompanied by a half-eaten rat lying at the foot. Jacob took out the map that had been given them the day before and laid it out in front of them. Lines and dashes signified the slopes and peaks of the large outcrop that was now home to orcs. From the map, it appeared that the path ahead rounded to the left and continued along the edge of the whole outcrop, in truth a type of boundary fence to the rocks below. Around the bend, a path to the left headed higher, up steps and into the camp proper where chambers had been dug into the rock face to act as command rooms.

“That’s where we’re heading, one of these rooms should have the papers we’re after”, pointed Jacob.
“Which one?” countered Seth.
“I don’t know, we’ll just have to check out both of them”.
“That’s not good enough. I don’t fancy walking into sleeping orc central. Taking out a Black Orc is one thing, but a room full of Black Orcs is something completely different”, argued Johan.
“Just be thankful we have the map, we could be doing this blind, or had that escaped your notice”, returned Seth.
“Watch it, or you’ll be the one who ends up blind!”.
“Shut it, or I’ll kill you both myself”. Jacob stared at the two soldiers in front of him, his eyes commanding attention and compliance. No-one said a word. “Intelligence states that the sleeping quarters are found off the main path, and not up top on the second level. There may be a few guards, but that’ll be it.” Jacob paused briefly, “Right, we’ll take it one room at a time. Lets go”, concluded Jacob.

Ul’lak hated these late watches. He’d much prefer to be in the group barracks, either asleep or joking with the other Orcs. He could hear the faint sound of laughter in the distance, coming from down along the outer path, where the entrance to the main quarters could be found. But no, he was here, while all the officers were snoring in their beds. Ever since the arrival of extra soldiers three days previous, space had become a premium, so the Commanding Officers had chosen to leave the troops and bed down in one of the larger Command Rooms on the top level. Late watches were bad enough, but now the officers had moved, the watch had been doubled to guard the two sleeping areas.

Ul’lak couldn’t see the point of wasting his time waiting on the path. Any news or activity would come from the Sentry at the base of the outpost. He never left that alcove, in fact he’d even had his mattress taken down to it, so he could remain at hand at all times. At least someone didn’t mind waiting. What was he doing waiting on the path, when there was clearly no need. All Ul’lak wanted, was the for the watch to finish, so he could retire to bed and continue his dreams of gutting young farm women, and enjoy the pleasure of hearing their screams. Then when he grew tired of waiting for them to die, he'd raise his knife and slowly slice it across their throat, feeling their pain as their lifeblood began to….pain….burning pain, Ul’lak tried to cry out, but only a faint bubbling gargle emerged. He raised his hands to his throat and felt a wet warming sensation sweep over them. Ul’lak looked down and in the darkness saw blood dimly glistening in the pale moonlight, covering both his hands and the front of his chainmail halberk. His legs buckled and Ul’lak fell to his knees as he tried to turn to face his killers, lifting his head in time to see three dark figures staring down at him. Ul’lak’s head begin to spin, he couldn’t focus, he couldn’t concentrate, the growing pain arching throughout his body, and he knew he was going to die, only then did he realise what he’d been waiting for.

“Just ahead should be the steps heading up”, said Jacob, as he helped roll the body of the second dead orc over the cliff face and then watched it dissipate into the darkness below. “Johan take lead, and Seth cover our backs”.

After some thirty feet or so, Johan came to the foot of the stairs that had been carved out of the rock and earth. Bracken grew on either side of the steps and small trees could be made out, jutting from the ground and adding additional cover. Johan began to ascend, closely followed by the remaining two Shadow Company men. Suddenly Johan stopped, giving the signal for complete silence. Listening, carefully, Jacob could hear the movement and coughing of a guard above them somewhere on the top level. Every few seconds, the orc’s head could just be made out, silhouetted against the grey clouds overhead.

“He’s doing a circuit, right above the steps. We’ll never get passed without being seen, so we’ll have to take him out as well”, Jacob whispered down to Seth, who was crouched a couple of steps below, still at the base of the stairwell. Seth signalled his agreement, and then froze. He could hear footsteps, but those belonged to the guard above, no, it was another set, and they were getting closer, coming from along the outer path. Seth glanced up, and could see that both Jacob and Johan had edged into the bracken, concealing themselves from sight, but Seth was still on the lower steps at the base, where there was no bracken, only the cold, rugged, hard surface of rock. There was nowhere to hide, and the steps were almost upon him. Seth was routed to the spot, he couldn’t move a muscle, his only thought that the orc would carry on down the path and not even notice the small human at his feet. The orc came into view, as it rounded a bend in the path, and began to walk past the stairs leading up. Seth suddenly realised; that this orc would find no guards posted at their points further along and would raise the alarm. The impact of this thought immediately brought life back to Seth’s limbs and he began to draw his scram. The sudden movement must have caught the orc’s attention, as it paused abruptly and began to turn to face Seth’s position. Too late, a brief gasp of surprise was met with the sharpness of cold steel, as Seth’s blade found flesh and bone. The lifeless body fell to the ground with a heavy thud, as Seth allowed himself a sigh of relief. 

The silence was then shattered by the grunts and clicks coming from the top of the stairwell, as the Black Orc guard from above called down, enquiring as to what had caused the noise. Seth hoping to cover his kill, picked up the shield now lying next to the dead body and waved it around grunting in his best Orc imitation. Seth peered over the rim of the shield looking up at the stairs and the large rocks that covered the top level, hoping to see the Orc wander off satisfied with his findings. The trampling of vegetation and sound of hob nailed boots scratching against rocks soon confirmed his fears that his futile effort to impersonate an orc had failed miserably. The orc began to wander down the rough-cut steps, oblivious to his potential killers waiting just feet in front. As the beast reached level with the men of the Fianna, both Jacob and Johan leapt out of the undergrowth and thrust their scram blades deep into the neck of the guard, twisting and slicing to ensure that death was swift.

“Come on, we’ve got to speed this up, it won’t be long before the bodies are spotted, and this is getting a little too close for comfort”, added Jacob, after he had wiped the blood of the orc over it’s breaches.
The three rose to the summit of the stairs and surveyed the scene in front of them. A small path led from the stairs to a small open clearing encircled by huge rock formations striking out of the ground, reminiscent of spear heads that had been driven through a foe and left protruding out of its back. Two doors could also be seen embedded in the largest two outcrops.

The warriors then moved into position outside the left-hand door. Seth listened intently at the wooden door and heard faint noises within.

“There is definitely something in there, but I’m not sure what it is. It could be on Orc guard. Wait here a moment”, said Seth as he lifted the latch upward and pushed the door inward. Stepping inside he couldn’t see much due to the near perfect darkness. As the seconds crept by and his eyes become further accustomed to the dark, the faint outline of desks appeared at the right of the room which stretched beyond into the black. The faint noises that were heard from the outside, were louder within, and lent themselves to the snoring of a number of Orcs. Carefully ensuring that he made no noise, which would alert the sleeping enemy, Seth slipped a hand into a small pouch and withdrew a tiny clear phial. A small area around the phial glowed a faint green as the glow worms within produced a little light. Seth edged towards the desk in the hope of finding a ley stone or similar device. Keeping one eye on the sleeping Orcs, he searched the tabletop, which was cluttered with papers and what appeared to be maps, with roughly sketched black marks spread across in arcs. Seeing nothing else of interest, Seth rolled up the parchment and headed back towards the door. It was almost too easy.

Once outside, Seth noted that the other Raggers were nowhere to be seen. Looking to his right, he noticed the door was slightly ajar and realised they had entered the other room. As Seth entered the room, two small green glows could be seen in the darkness towards the back of the room.

Johan was looking at a box on the table while Jacob was checking the body of a dead orc at his feet, its throat slit. “This looks like a carrying case” said Johan who was still examining the sides of the box for traps. “I reckon the ley stone will be inside”, Johan continued as Seth moved towards a corner where he had spotted some shapes huddled on the floor. As he neared the shapes he realised they were Orcs, again sleeping, but these were larger than the guards encountered outside, leaving Seth with only one conclusion….these were the commanders of the outpost.

At that Seth turned due to a commotion behind him, where he saw Johan one hand at his throat, the other holding a ley stone, taken from the now empty case. He looked up at Seth his face looking deathly pale in the eerie light. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he collapsed to the floor convulsing and choking. Seth was convinced the whole camp would be able to hear the coughing, as the sound broke the quiet of the room. Seth’s thoughts turned towards the sleeping Orcs. If they awoke, the outpost would be upon them in seconds. Fear gripped his heart.

The coughing was followed by a sudden gargle and then silence. The Orcs were rustling on their mattresses obviously disturbed by the noise. Seth chanced a quick glance behind him and saw Jacob crouched over the lifeless body of Johan, scram in hand dripping with thin drops of blood, the other covering Johan’s mouth.

“Contact poison on the box” whispered Jacob. “I did what I had to. Now lets finish this!”. At that, the remaining members of the Raggers quickly brought silent death to the orc chiefs, thanking the Gods that they didn’t wake and alert the guards.

Seth prised the ley stone out of the dead clutched hand of Johan, wrapped it in a cloth and placed it in his pouch along with the glow worm phial. Jacob bent down and picked up the dead body of their Brother. “He deserves a proper burial, we’re taking the body with us. Now lets get out of here”. With the body draped over his shoulders, Jacob strode towards the door and the cold night beyond.

“Strength in Fellowship”, whispered Seth as he followed his Corporal.

 

Scribe Pavel Polczynski

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