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 Flight of the Bumble Dwarf

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Number of posts : 761
Registration date : 2007-04-26

PostSubject: Flight of the Bumble Dwarf   Tue 21 Dec - 11:22:12

Assault Steps Up

We had an hours grace to recover and prepare for the onslaught. The suspicious elf Oakshadow spent it traipsing around the place rather than healing, much to her later regret, whilst I inspected the damaged gatehouse area. Carstein gloomily studied his doomstone and the monks held another round of committee meetings. Valiant Captain Scar got his troops organised, lighting torches around the place as dusk drew on and preparations below intensified.

Unlike the good Captain, I carefully assessed my positioning for the coming battle with particular sensitivity to the likely dangers:
Where would the attack come? The North wall.
How would we be harried? From the air.
Where would the Doomstone trio be based? The North West tower.

So the south east tower for me with a sturdy roof available for taking cover and maximum distance from my trigger-happy power-drunk comrades. Thoughtful readers may recall that this tower had already been turned into a roman candle during the previous attack by our fire flinging mage. Unbelievably Scar chose to join the demonic doom dunderheads in the North West tower. Getz and the other elf showed some discretion meanwhile choosing the South East Tower to ensure that any successful arrow work by them would have to be spectacularly fluky. Strategy and tactics? Not for us!

There was little chance to shout a warning or reflect on Scar’s recklessness as a wave of grapnels began the attack; eventually some thirty or more forming a latticework of death against our ramparts. Probably fortunate that we could only dimly perceive the swarm of goblins swarming up, intent on allowing our bodily organs some well earned fresh mountain air. Still, it could be worse, it could be raining.

Even as the downpour began, Carstein began work instantly flaming six ropes with his doomstone fire whilst a lucky shot from the elf seemed to almost bend round the tower wall to neatly sever another. Scar directed his troops and monks to bring up spears and tackle other hooks that bit into various rooftops along the north wall. He and Oakshadow were both struck by grapnels and the elf was knocked senseless having foolishly failed to partake of any healing during the lull in the fighting.

Scar was made of tougher stuff and rose to his feet, barking orders as usual, brandishing his artificial limb in defiance. What else he might have achieved we’ll never know, as Snorri chose this moment to unleash his stone of doom again. Scar had of course already suffered the delights of being deluged in one of the dwarf’s rocky showers; this time however, he enjoyed the total experience and was squashed like a bug together with the other luckless guard.

So a few goblins fallen to horrible deaths and a few defenders down, all thanks to us so far. The goblins kept on coming though, whipped on from below and now the two wyverns now swooped in to attack. Savage orc riders directed the monsters against the North East tower, though the elf managed to plant an arrow in one of them. Getz and the elf decided to cross the rooftops heading for the threatened flank but our illustrious leader somehow managed to turn a simple twelve inch drop into an ankle twister.

The wyverns wheeled around and to add injury to injury Mitchell’s arm was wrenched out of its socket by a well placed talon.* Snorri then took one of his famous decisions.** As a beast flew by waving its poisonous stinger the little fellow leapt and grabbed a flailing extremity.***

*Just a dislocation but his semaphoring days are over for a bit.
**Though opinion is divided about the amount of actual thought that goes into these decisions.
***I couldn’t quite see from where I was, but he swore blind to me later that it was a leg.

Up, up and away, the wyvern flailing to kick away the unwanted passenger and struggling to maintain its control. Snorri was proving about as useful an aid to aeronautics as a Rolls Royce engine. Another break for us now as Oakshadow was recovered enough after some monkish healing, to get up and begin to search for her dropped doomstone.

Carstein after some varying degrees of failure with several spells now managed to slice off a few more grapple lines, sending unseen goblin cannon fodder crashing down the cliffs. The elf transfixed the other orc rider who also toppled spectacularly into the darkness and some monks began work cutting other lines.

My contribution to this point had been minimal*, a couple of well placed arrows just missing one of the wyverns. As a reward, the now riderless wyvern decided to attack me furiously and I was forced back into the tower where I exchanged a few unwise blows with it, getting by far the worst of it.

*But on the plus side, at least I hadn’t killed a couple of my own side, spent most of the time unconscious or limping around pathetically after cocking up a manoeuvre that any ten year old might have achieved.

Meanwhile back at the centre of the attack, our elf mage was experiencing some problems as two guards on seeing the bloody sheet of tinfoil that had once been their leader, turned mad with grief and rage respectively: One fled, the other attacked her, forcing her to sleep him.

The dwarf meanwhile now succeeded in so disrupting the wyvern’s flight that it crashed into the courtyard near my tower, having narrowly missed the statue of Yarazan. Clearly that all-cake and ale diet the dwarf had been enjoying lately paying handsome dividends. The trio tumbled in a heap, a satisfying cracking noise announcing the breaking of the rider’s neck.

With my retreat to the ground floor complete, both wyverns now turned their attentions to Snorri, who once more unleashed his doomstone. For once the tumbling cascade of rocks did some good, the dragon-like beasts reeling under the onslaught. I opened fire with my bow from the tower with my usual unerring accuracy but hey at least I missed the dwarf. (I suppose that’s a good thing on balance…)

Far below another threesome – air elementals conjured by our Bloodaxe foe- prepared to join the attack against us. Carstein has conjured a fire elemental in response, however as the rain intensifies the wisdom of this move remains to be proved.

So as the icy rain sweeps in bearing a cold front of green death rushing ever closer, we are divided and distracted by wyverns, misfiring with our magic and apocalyptic weaponry and many of our defenders are out numbered, dazed, reckless, hairy, short, sleeping, crushed, hobbling, out of position, recovering, lousy shots or just plain bleeding. It’s all going to plan as usual.

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