(GM: If you have not yet read the Battle of Fjaga and its aftermath, go
here first, and then come back.)
The Geldeheim Moot - Azura 27, 730
Fog swirled about the fjord this morning, reminding many of the morning of the battle now just ten days ago. A makeshift dais had been cobbled together on upper Hagined Common, near the Jarin burial ground. On the dais were three stools - all the same. Men milled about, waiting for 10 am when the moot was scheduled to begin. They were fierce men - battle hardened warriors. Though they had lost the Battle of Fjaga, they were not defeated. They wanted nothing so much as another chance at the Southrons. Some of the townsfolk loitered about the edges of the field, and most were tolerated, although the few Jarin were chased off. The Seld Warband jockeyed for position, managing to get fairly close to the dais, although the area just in front had been staked off.
Soon after the appointed hour, a group emerged from the castle and came along the road towards the common. The three older princes - Meraag, Raabaas, and Alegar - led, followed by the fifteen year old princes Varined and Jorni. Then came the great lords of Vaagen, Tawheim, Zynholm, Aaldem, and the recently arrived Lord of Zuden, Bjaal Ruindael. Behind them came the Lord of Daasen, his arm in a sling, and Bjan Drogo, walking with difficulty with one crutch, and a bandage yet about his skull. The three older princes ascended the dais, and all the others crowded in front. Someone handed Bjan Drogo a stool, but he refused it. Prince Meraag stepped forward.
“Warriors of Orbaal! My brothers and I thank you for your service! We have fought a great and terrible battle against a hardy foe, and though we were driven from the field, we know that the Ivinian heart is strong! We know the wolf within each of you is undaunted!” He paused as the soldiers cheered. These were words they liked. Words they needed to hear. After a moment, Meraag went on. “We all know what happened at Fjaga. We were driven off our own ground and our King was taken! Warriors! I tell you I and my brothers shall not rest until we have avenged this insult and our glorious King, Alegar II once again rules his hall!” More cheering, and thumping of spears.
“Many a good warrior has gone to Talagaad, and I know you have been wondering about their fate. Bjan Drogo saw the aftermath of the battlefield and I ask him now to tell us the tale in his words.” With that, Meraag and the other two princes sat down upon the stools.
Bjan Drogo stood forward, and bowed to the princes. Then he turned to the assembled warriors. “Brothers!” he began. “I share your shame and your loss. Though I fell defending my King, I cannot describe my dishonor at living while he was taken captive. I shall devote every breath to bringing him back. When I awoke on the field at Fjaga, it must have been late the next day. I saw my wounded leg, and marveled I had not bled to death. As I looked over the field, I saw no dead of the enemy - only our own. I realized the Southrons had taken their dead for honorable burial, but left ours as carrion.” He spat in the dirt. “That is no way to enter Talagaad!” Soon, I found a few other survivors, and we rounded up some thralls from the nearby village and put them to work collecting the dead and building an honorable funeral pyre to light the way to the Hall of the Gray Slayer!” Drogo returned to his place as the warriors cheered, and shook their spears.
Halvor Karolaan, the Valhakar of Vaagel, stepped forward. “Princes of the House of Taareskeld! While your noble father is still our King, we need a ruler in these times. Which of you will take upon himself the regency?”
The princes exchanged glances. “I had thought we settled this Lord Vaagel,” said Raabaas. “We three shall rule jointly until our father’s return.”
Vaagel bowed. “Yes, Prince Raabaas, I know your views. But a Regent is not a King. Orbaal needs one voice to address this threat - not three. We have just fought a mighty battle with our army the cream of Orbaal. Every man here fought well. I know every man here will answer the call and defend our land against the invaders. But we must admit that we underestimated these Southrons. We thought them weak - oh, brave enough against their own kind, but not the equal of our fierce huscarls. We thought they would not be able to use their knights in our rugged terrain. We thought they would break as our shieldwall advanced. We thought a boy of only twenty winters would be inexperienced in leading men in battle. We thought wrong.”
“We were lured out into the open. We knew this boy had erred - that he had given us the high ground. Yet what he truly did was to draw us out onto an open plain where his cavalry could hit us when we couldn’t hit back. He kept his best troops in reserve to exploit the breach the cavalry he shouldn’t have used made. I say to you Princes of Taareskeld that we must not underestimate this King again!” The warriors nearby cheered these words and Vaagel held up his hands. “We now know that he has withdrawn from Fjaga, but holds the rest of Akag - behind a range of mountains which we cannot breach. The dragonship of the King has been burned, along with many other warboats in the fjord. And we know the Southrons have ships in Tandir. Our King has been taken captive. The Lord of Arathel may have turned against us. The Jarin control Lorkin and possibly all of Nuthela. This is a time for unity, my princes, for Orbaal to speak with one voice!”
“We do speak with one voice, my brothers and I,” said Prince Alegar. “And we shall continue to do so until our father returns.”
“And we have more urgent matters to attend, Lord Vaagel,” said Raabaas, standing up. “Warriors! Lord Vaagel is right about one thing - we must not underestimate the Southrons again. We were taken by surprise at their strength, but this they can only do once. Winter approaches, and now is the time for us to gather our power. Many of you will return to your homes for the winter, but know we will have need of your strength in the spring. Whether the Southrons return or not, there will be work to do in retaking the lands they have stolen.”
“In the meantime, we shall call on some of you to undertake missions at this time. We must know more by the spring than we did before Fjaga. We must know what is happening in Lorkin. We must know what Jarin resistance festers in Leriel, in Pethwys, in Gwaeryn. We must know why the Agrikans at Quimen did not answer the call. What of Pled, and the others who still sit in their halls, while better men fight and die? And we must learn more about the Cyeens at Arathel. Has the half-breed joined the enemy against us, or was he too cowardly to fight? We must know what happens in Tandir and the whole Akag.” He paused. “Let those who would speak at this moot do so now.”
Lord Vaagel walked forward, a spear in his hand with the gold dragon on a red field pennant of clan Taareskeld attached below the point. “Let he who would speak come forward. While a man has the spear, let no one interrupt.”
Suri Sweyrn, High Priest of Sarajin came forward, and proclaimed a blessing over the army and the men who had fought so bravely. Then several warriors came forward. As they took the spear in turn, they all affirmed their loyalty to King Alegar, and pledged to fight the invaders from the south and the Jarin vermin who had risen up against them. One man wondered if the Jarin and the Southrons were allied, and the princes and lords admitted they did not know, but this too, was something that needed exploring. “Are there any others who would come forward?” called Prince Raabaas.
(GM: Feel free to add to this thread. The PBF has begun!)