Session One Hundred Fifty-Six - November 16, 2019

Wherein the ongoing story of the FtF campaign may be found ...

Session One Hundred Fifty-Six - November 16, 2019

Postby Matt » Tue Dec 31, 2019 3:00 pm

Shortly after midnight
Nolus 16, 733
Olokand Castle


Squire Goreg Ocazar entered the great hall of the imposing royal fortress, and stood towards the rear. In the council chamber, in the Sanric tower on the southwest quadrant of the keep, a handful of knights were conferring with his lord, the Sheriff of Meselyneshire. They were the recently elevated Lord Prehil Firith, Baron of Kobe, Sir Paquin Dezaller, the Lord of Loban, Sir Daxton Synarth, and, of course, Sir Baris Tyrestal. The hall itself was filled with knights, all waiting to hear the outcome of the meeting. Goreg has just finished laying out the Sheriff’s arms and armor for he had no doubt whatsoever that the order to assemble in the castle bailey would soon be given. The time had finally come to pay the viking invaders back in their own coin. Strong and reliable intelligence indicated that the Harbaalers would be scouting south of Huxely manor, and would have to travel through Loban later this day in order to reach the manors in the southwest part of the Ambarnis Hundred. Thirst for battle fired the young squire, and he imagined a deed of valor which could see him knighted this very day.

The door to the council chamber opened, and Sir Daxton emerged, followed by the other knights, and lastly Ewen Ravinargh, Baron of Ternua and Sheriff of Meselyneshire. “Lord Prehil, you and Sir Baris will issue the orders to the chosen companies?” The two captains nodded, for so they were, chosen by the Lord Sheriff to command the wings of the army. “Then let us proceed.” The battle plans had been drawn. The men and women following Lord Ewen know the plan. They will crush the Viking raiders and restore honor to those lost in the ambushes this past fortnight! They will return with a glorious tale to tell those who remained behind to guard Olokand.


Scarcely an hour later, the force was ready to march. More than a dozen knights, two companies of heavily armed foot (one the veteran Thardan Lads under Sir Dickon Parketh) along with two more lightly armored. The company of archers provided by Sir Bereden Pawade from Heru, and a squadron of light horse from Inbernel, nearly 130 in all, awaited the order to proceed to Loban.

Near the head of the column, the Sheriff rode with several of his companions, and to the stamping of hooves, clinking of metal, and thud of boots, he explained to them what he expected of them in the battle. Cekiya, the little adder, would stand by Lord Ewen, taking messages or bringing her special version of death to the battle. Arva, however, was to observe from the tower of Loban manorhouse and with using signals, relay orders to the knights, Sir Baris, and to the Thardan Lads. Well before dawn, the force arrives and assembles before the gates of the manorhouse, the abandoned village eerie in the darkness.

At Loban, the army of the Sheriff tended the horses, shook some of the dust of the road off, and caught what rest they could. Some, unable to sleep, diced and the smell of pipeweed wafted here and there. Lord Ewen, the Sheriff, walked among them, exchanging a few words with those not asleep, and assessed the comportment of his soldiers. They were a mixed force, and they had never fought together. They would need to be closely led, and he decided to be with them on foot, and leave the mounted knights to Lord Prehil. He would take the left flank, an entrust the right to Sir Baris. The archers would be on the tower, giving them a field of fire which commanded much of the village, and Sir Dickon and the Thardan Lads would form his reserve. The light horse squadron under Captain Thorp would conceal themselves in the woods to the northeast, the better to harry the vikings as they came along the Fur Road from the northwest. He looked down, for there was Cekiya, following him as she should, but he had not heard her. He knew she sometimes failed to distinguish between following and stalking. “You should rest, my lord,” she whispered. He nodded, and with a glance at the empty manor, took his sword in hand and propped himself against a nearby tree.


With the rising of the sun, Lord Ewen stood upon an overturned trough, and addressed the soldiers around him.

“Barbarian vikings have crossed a dark and frozen sea to despoil our land, slay our sons, and enslave our daughters. Savages who know nothing but pillage and plunder have fallen like locusts upon a green and bountiful field, with nothing but ruin and evil in their hearts. They look at our well tended crops and our happy villages, and see only abundance to be sacked, virtue to be ravaged, and these prosperous sunny lands to be razed down to stubble. But the barbarian does not know who we are. For we are Kaldor.

“The Queen gathers her great army to the south, and in the days ahead, with brave commanders under the Lord Marshal, she shall muster a powerful host and fall upon these marauders like a terrible storm. But until that day comes, against these fell barbarians, here at Loban manor, we are Kaldor. The merchant of Tashal may sell his wares and count his coin, the peasant leagues away may plow his fields, but against this viking army, on this day, we are Kaldor. We are no great host, we are no vast army. But with men like you at my side, I tell you this morning that we shall make these invaders, these despoilers of the good and honest people of our land, these cowardly men of rape and pillage, we shall make them pay a terrible price. We shall show these barbarians what they have awakened.

“Good Sir Gaeled Tesnyth stands vigilant in Dolithor, having met the enemy and done his duty. For a shining moment against an overwhelming foe, he took his stand, and he was Kaldor. Now it is our turn. The savage viking from across the frozen seas knows only pillage and plunder. He doesn’t know the iron will and cold steel discipline of the soldiers I see before me. He doesn’t know Sir Daxton Synarth. He doesn’t know my friend Lord Prehil, Sir Bereden and Sir Dickon, Sir Cardiel, Sir Paquin, Lady Aldea. And no, he doesn’t know Sir Baris Tyrestal. He doesn’t know the terrible puissance and wrath of a company of Kaldoric knights. And he doesn’t have the blessing of the Shieldmaiden of Dolithor, who reviles his deeds, and who makes our cause just.

“Our lands are green and verdant, our people are good and true, our sons stalwart and our daughters pretty. But this morning, against the forces of savagery and darkness, we alone are Kaldor. With men like you at my side, we shall not fail. And when the deeds of this day are told, over and over again, down through the years, men will say this was the beginning, this was the day the great rout of the viking horde began, which led stroke upon stroke and blow upon blow all the way from Loban manor to drive this dark and terrible enemy back into the sea! This day. These men. At this small place.

“We are Kaldor. And we shall prevail.”


The speech was met with cheers, and the beating of spears against their shields. They chanted Ewen! Ewen! And that mighty lord felt the sun on his face, and he had never felt so alive. There had been much murmured assent while Lord Ewen spoke, and even some laughter, and the men approved heartily. They now followed their captains to their positions, concealed themselves as best they could, and waited. The knights followed Lord Prehil north of the demesne orchard and behind a copse of trees. The captains, mindful of how sound travels in the early dawn, signal their soldiers to keep their voices from rising too loud, lest the sound carries to the enemy ranks and gives hint to their numbers. The troops take heart and, growing silent, think on the battle to come.

The light horse squadron moves northward through the town the north of the town. Once they reach the far woods, the horsemen move into the tree line. The squadron takes position amongst the cover of the forest and establish their line, prepared to harass the Harbaalese rear guard and skirmish as needed.

The knights, commanded by Lord Prehil, set up slightly to the south of the far woods where the light horsemen are posted. Their instructions are clear: do not to engage until the Harbaalese are committed. Prehil and his knights are to watch the tower and await Arva’s signal to engage.

The archers set up on the roof the keep, as the height and filed of view make it the most effective position from which they can rain their arrows upon oncoming attackers. They hide behind the crenulation with Arva, who will keep her eyes on Lord Ewen. Arva is tasked with using the signal flags in the storage room in Olokand to relay commands to the men beyond earshot of Ewen’s booming voice.

Sir Blakka and his men, all well-armed medium foot, set up in the building in front of the inn. Lord Prehil’s guards have been assigned by his father to keep the future Earl out of trouble and foolish danger. Thus, their numbers have filled out Blakka’s men to a full company. The light foot arrange themselves within the buildings to right and left of Blakka’s men. Sir Baris is posted with the men of the rear wing, and Ewen is stationed with Blakka’s men.

Sir Dicken and his men post themselves behind the inn, ready to be called up in reserve. They remove some fence, giving them ready access points through which to charge into battle. Dicken is told that when they do finally engage the enemy, Sir Baris will take charge of their orders as they enter the fray.

The men wait through as dawn grows nearer. Whispered talk and the occasional neighing of restless horses is heard throughout the abandoned village. The overcast sky shows a few slight breaks in the clouds, and there is no rain. Despite the nervous anticipation felt through their ranks, the Kaldorans await their fight in moderate comfort.

Near 7 am that morning, the Viking advance comes into view: a body of skirmishers, marching down the fur road. They come briskly, covering more ground and closing the distance with each passing minute. The huscarls head to the center of the north common and into a small copse of trees. They move with deliberation and purpose. The huscarl leader pauses briefly, but long enough to allow a trailing body of foot soldiers to march into view. Though lagging, the foot soldiers head toward the rear of the huscarl band.

The war chief of the next Viking band strides into view, trailed by the ranks of his huscarls. He leads his men to the left of the foot soldiers and to the flank of the first group of huscarls where the Viking leaders stand. Soon, another group of Viking foot comes into view, led onto the road by another chief.

The captain of the huscarl vanguard directs his men to the orchard gap where the hedge meets the trees. The trailing warriors advance in his lead. They begin filing into position at his left flank.

The second band of Viking skirmishers advance through the hedge and into the orchard. Once clear of the hedgerow and in the relative open of the orchard, the Viking force spies Prehil and his mounted knights in the expanse of the far field.

Sir Daxton, seeing the skirmishers, points them out. “I believe they know where we are, Lord Prehil.”

“By Agrik’s Flaming Balls, so they have,” roared Prehil. “We must demonstrate along the road!” The knights, though not fully understanding the strange comments, nevertheless, followed.

Prehil knows that the men who have breached the hedgerow and spotted him are merely the Viking scouts. He leads his men from the road and rides to a small copse of trees nearby. From the cover of the trees, Prehil gains further intelligence while he plans he next move, and notes the two Vikings leaders with their numerous huscarls and an additional group of warriors on foot.

The second Viking leader, unaware that Prehil and his knights await beyond the orchard, gathers his foot soldiers closer to his huscarls on the right. The Viking then proceeds toward a much smaller gap in the brush, seeing it as a passage for he and his command to move into the edge of the orchard and continue their advance.

Lord Ewen sees Prehil move from their initial position and into the grove of trees. He scans the field and sees the Viking skirmishers in the orchard. He can barely see other warriors. Ewen signals his men to head to the building to the left of the keep on the fur road. Then, he signals the light foot to his left to proceed to the left of his medium foot. Ewen turns to Baris and sees that the knight also witnessed Prehil change position and, like Ewen, recognizes an inevitable change in the battle plans. Baris motions to Ewen that he will also reposition his men. Ewen nods his approval and Baris sends his medium foot quickly to the lone tree in to the east of the keep.

The archers, with no targets in range, remain hidden with Arva on the top of the keep.

The initial Viking skirmishers have made their way quickly down the Fur road and discover they have their choice of three targets. At their leader’s signal, the skirmishers advance toward Ewen and his group with torches in hand, intent on burning on the building they are using for cover. That structure, constructed with the standard wattle and daub with a thatched roof, cannot resist the fire of the Viking torches and is quickly ablaze.

Lord Ewen and his men retreat from behind the burning building. He splits the two groups of foot with him, sending the medium foot to the east of the building while directing his light foot to the west with orders to engage the Vikings from each side in a pincer movement. Ewen’s men stream around the burning building and hurl themselves into the skirmishers. The Vikings attempt to evade the onslaught of Ewen’s medium foot by moving back and regrouping, however they cannot get far and are attacked on their other side by the light foot. The skirmishers hold themselves well but Ewen’s foot soldiers fight fiercely and force the Viking captain to signal a retreat back beyond the road and toward the cover of a small wood lot. Lord Ewen directs the movement but does not participate in the attack. Rather, he remains back to observe and direct the continuing fight. Ewen bellows to Sir Baris and his men, commanding them to form up on the southern portion of the orchard.

The second Viking leader, Torvald, strides through the hedgerow gap and leads his troops eastward. He sets up a position between dense trees of the hedge and the orchard. Torvald’s fighters follow him, slowly. Beyond the edge of the orchard lays the expanse of fields and beyond and slightly to the south a copse of trees. Amongst the trees and unbeknownst to the advancing Vikings, Prehil and his knights wait, poised to fight and awaiting their moment to charge.

The first Viking leader, Kroden, advances through the gap to set up position between the lower orchard and the hedge. Kroden and his warriors proceed southward onto the road by the trees and the long hedge. Meanwhile, the first group of Viking skirmishers flood through the gap in the hedge and the fighters arrange their ranks in the space between the two Viking leaders.

The skirmishers again attempt to disengage by moving around the light foot. This attempt works and they begin to move to the north of the small group of trees and begin to make their way to the Peonian temple.

Kroden and his huscarls move south along the hedge and the orchard. The foot behind him but remain facing the trees where Prehil and his men stand waiting.

Torvald takes his huscarls to form a wall between the brush near the field and the orchard and then waits for his foot to fill the location just vacated by his huscarls.

Sir Baris and his medium foot move along the road and the northern wall the manorhouse. Baris hails Ewen and reports that Dickon and his men are beyond earshot. Arva, hears Baris’ observation. She rises above the crenellation with her flags and stands ready, prepared to signal Dickon upon Ewen’s command.

The archers, now with multiple close-range targets, rise and fire at the right flank where Kroden sits with his men. The wind merely a light breeze blowing from south to north and proves to be a slight factor to the archers. Their first salvo of arrows fly over the heads of the huscarls. Frustrated cursing emanates from the top of the keep while arrows are re-nocked. The archers draw their bows and send up a second volley- which flies with no more success than the first.

Seeing the archers, Lord Prehil shouts, “Let’s give them a show!” The knights ride a circuit around the small copse of trees, rudely gesturing to Torvald’s shieldwall. The Harbaalers are too disciplined to take the bait, and hold fast. This effectively locks the warriors that followed behind in place. They cannot move from their position or their countrymen will be ridden down.

Sir Baris and his men receive orders from Ewen to advance to their right. They move through the orchard towards Vikings facing Prehil. The Vikings now must face the foe on two fronts.

Lord Ewen then moves his line of medium foot into position behind Baris’s men. Ewen next orders the light company to join in line behind the medium foot. While they take position, Baris commands his troops to join the line so that they form one cohesive unit positioned toward the orchard.

While his men take their positions, Lord Ewen gathers his focus and aims a weapon of esoteric art at a small group of Harbaalese just to the front of him. The effects of Ewen’s strike are immediate and dramatic as four warriors are struck dead. Two men clutch their chests and fall, their eyes locked in shock. Even better, in Ewen’s opinion is witnessing the two other warriors’ heads explode. One of the now headless men was standing beside the leader, Kroden, whose shocked reaction causes Ewen no small satisfaction. Ewen thinks that Aeomund would have loved that moment. He narrows his eyes as Kroden wipes blood and brains from his face and suddenly motions for his men to back up. Kroden directs the two groups of fighters to form an “L”; with the huscarls facing south and the Viking foot along a north-south axis.

Ewen barks the command for Arva to signal Sir Dickon that it is time for he and his men to advance. Dickon and his men move from inn to the lone tree near the castle.

Ewen then gathers his focus for another esoteric attack at the huscarls, who are still facing him. He aims and fires. Ewen’s attack hits the huscarls and they tremble, awash with unease and shock, but to Ewen’s dismay, not the gory results of his first blast.

Torvald, until now standing fast with his men while the Kaldor forces emerged from the abandoned village, orders his footmen in line into the orchard. The huscarls, standing at the ready with Torvald, anchor themselves in a “V formation.

Lord Prehil, seeing the second Viking leader rearrange his foot soldiers in possible plan of attack, makes another demonstration ride to ensure that Torvald and his men are held in place by the potential of a mounted charge.

The light horse moves from its concealment. The force skirts around the woods and moves into the north common with the goal of overtaking a small band of skirmishers who have moved to the front of the Peonian temple. The skirmishers’ intention to burn the temple down clear as they raise their torches and sprint toward the building. The wooden temple, build of sturdier materials than the villager’s house, doesn’t immediately ignite, but due to the sheer number of lit torches, finally catches and the building begins to smolder. The skirmishers then head towards the beach, intent on making their way into Ambarin Common but their progress is slowed by the sand,

Kroden advances his line of footmen, determined to link his force with Torvald’s footmen. As they move out Kroden orders his huscarls to finish the line.

The rooftop archers stand and fire into the Harbaalese. This time, they take an extra moment, pausing aim and calm their heartbeats before firing at the Harbaalese on the outer end, near the hedge. The arrow strikes do not take any Harbaalese out of the battle, but a few footmen are inconvenienced by arrows piercing their thighs.

Kroden, his black teeth shining, roars out with a tremendous battle yell and the huscarls, unnerved by Ewen’s invisible attack, regain their focus and fervor. Emboldened, they hurl oaths and make taunting gestures intended to goad Baris’ men into action.

Sir Baris, seeing the huscarls taunts, instructs his men to hold fast and stand their ground. He looks across toward Ewen and receives an affirmative nod. Baris shouts the order for his line to close half the distance to the Harbaalese.

Meanwhile, the light horse continues in their charge through the north common and draw even with the west end of the Harbaalese line.

Lord Ewen gathers himself once more to give an esoteric attack. He aims toward the southwest end of the huscarl line adjacent to the hedge. Crackling with energy, he launches raw power and sees several vikings collapse in gouts of blood and gore. Kroden’s entire warband recoils. Several more huscarl heads vaporize and nearby soldiers shrink back from the bloody remains of their comrades, disgusted and confounded by the unknown origin of the carnage. The huscarls have become wary as the battle has not progressed according to their plan. Ewen gathers himself, preparing to send another power strike at the huscarls along the southern the line. The group trembles and retreats. They move back and form an anchor position at the edge hedge. As they tightening their line, the archives fire another salvo of arrows toward the nearby group of Harbaalese, startling the warriors, but little else.

Torvald yells at his men. They raise their shields and form a tighter position, forming a continuous shieldwall. The wall will slow their movement but provides greater defense from a possible attack from Prehil’s cavalry.

Lord Prehil watches the movements amongst Torvald’s Harbaalese. He stands in his saddle and takes in the battle, absorbing the flow of men before him. From his mount, Prehil sees the distant movement of the light horse riding toward the Peonian temple. He can see figures moving through the village and the light cast from within the buildings. Prehil assesses all he sees and waits while the battle continues to unfold.

Kroden takes time to reposition his men, sending his foot to the far side of Torvald ‘s huscarls. Kroden then leads his own huscarls to close the gap between Torvald’s footmen. While Kroden shouts orders and encouragement while reforming his battle lines, his troops take heart and regain their motivation. They are buoyed as the Viking leader takes charge of the situation and positions them for a battle they understand – steel against steel, fighting tooth and nail, man against man, not facing the invisible attacks that Ewen has been dealing.

Torvald nods at Kroden and approves his positioning of the Harbaalese foot. He then stands and gives forth a fearsome battle cry that his troops of any remaining shock caused by Ewen’s strikes.

Seeing the activity amongst the newly reinvigorated Harbaalese forces, Ewen orders his men to close the gap and engage. He takes personal control of Blakka and his medium foot to engage the huscarl line facing toward the south. Blades, axes, and maces rise and fall. Shields are hammered and spears shaken. Some of the Harbaaler warriors fall to the combined company of Kobing men and Sir Blakka. Morale amongst the Harbaalers begins to deteriorate.

The light foot under Baris’ command continue their advance toward Torvald’s footmen. Meanwhile, Baris swings the remaining footmen around the end of the huscarls positioned near Kroden. The medium foot engage the Huscarls. Blakka’s men and Prehil’s guard attack. The fighters lay waste to one small group of Harbaalese light foot when, suddenly, a large shock courses through the Kroden’s remaining foot soldiers. Behind the Kaldoric line, Ewen gathers himself for another power shock. He concentrates and unleashes his strike. From his vantage, Ewen watches with satisfaction as yet another destabilizing shock washes over the Viking footmen.

Prehil watches the engagement and, seeing that Dickon’s and his men are within earshot, orders them to advance and form a second rank behind Blakka’s men. Dicken and his troops, well-seasoned to the long march, make short work of the distance and quickly take their new position in support of Blakka.

Prehil, grinning, says to the knights and squires around him, “By Halea’s Magnificent Mammaries, this is it! Let’s get’em!” The knights form up, and begin their charge. First at a walk, and then a trot, gaining speed as they go. Among them are Sir Daxton Synarth, Dame Aldea Pulgarty, and Goreg Ocazar, Lord Ewen’s squire. And Sir Paquin Dezaller, lord of this very manor. Rounding along the edge of one of the barley fields, they prepare to take the Harbaaler line on their left flank. Seeing that the fields have been plowed deeper than normal and the furrows would greatly impede the horses’ speed, Prehil signals his force and cuts short their northward advance in order to form a line along field facing the Viking eastern position. Once set, he waits for his next move.

The archers gaze across the area beneath them. Finding no targets to the north, they turn to the south and attempt to make an extended shot into the village and the Viking skirmishers still there. They kill one Harbaalese, to the great surprise of the skirmishers, who thought themselves removed from the active battle.

Sir Baris charges into battle himself, his axe raised, and crying out in Sarajinian war cries (words he does not actually understand), confusing his adversaries. He charges headlong toward the enemy, fighting heroically alongside his men, Vikings falling before them. Still undaunted, the Harbaalese foot fight back and despite significant casualties, the ferocity of their counterattack sends a wave of shock through the Kaldoric fighters. Despite the power of the Viking foe, the Kaldor men respond with their own devastating attack. Cekiya always staying to protect Lord Ewen’s rear, still manages to nimbly dart between warriors, sticking one here, and gutting another there. The Kaldorans push forward and destroy two more units of Harbaalese warriors. Under heavy pressure from the unrelenting swords of the men of Kaldor, the Viking line breaks. Their warriors make a hurried retreat into the groups of trees.

Kroden disengages with the shieldwall and pulls those men back to the rear of the foot unit to shore up and provide cover at the gap made by the fleeing of the Harbaalese

Baris sends up a throaty cheer and the men of Kaldor nearby are encouraged at the sound.

Torvald adjusts the foot to fully face the cavalry and recreates a shield wall. Hurriedly, his huscarls shift the flank back to limit exposure of the far line to inevitable mounted charge of Prehil’s knights.

Meanwhile, the light horse have reached the village and discover the buildings aflame. The riders use the opportunity to attack the skirmishers. The Vikings, seeing a squad of mounted men charging at them through the smoke of the burning village, flee back to the beach. Of the four of them, two are cut down by the horsemen, the other two are captured by men intent on bringing justice to those who were victims of the destruction of this and other villages.

Lord Prehil, with a yell “For Larani’s Justice!” spurs his mount and charges the shieldwall of Harbaalese footmen. The knights have eagerly awaited this moment and they attack the footmen with speed and accuracy. Two groups of Vikings are killed outright. The human wall shakes from the losses. Even as they attempt to regroup the footmen face the realization that they are outnumbered. They turn and run towards the gap behind Torvald. The knights ride out unscathed and regroup their line, ready for another charge. They turn and ride back into the Viking line. Torvald and his huscarls are in the path of the charging knights. With a united cry, they charge the huscarl shieldwall. The huscarls, armed with stout shields, fend off the charge with none of their number diminished.

Though, because they are still in the process of reforming the shield wall when Prehil and his knights attacked, the huscarls can only throw their efforts into defending their position. With no hurscarl counter-attack, the knights again escape unscathed.

Ewen takes a moment to attempt to manifest a large image of Qorsad, the amphitere, to instill fear into the huscarls while preserving his abilities from the men who fight with him. The exaggerated image will be dismissed as battle fever. Kroden and his huscarls gasp at the image. Terrified and shaken, they turn and follow the fleeing footmen, going over and through the hedge and quickly back they way they came.

Ewen ignores the fleeing men. Instead, he wades into the fray and orders the medium foot forward to close on the rear of Torvald’s foot. He attacks with his men and they swiftly kill one group of Torvald’s men. The remaining two groups of huscarls see the battle is unwinnable. Beaten, they flee while they can. The rest of the Kaldoric men engage the remaining enemy force. But being greatly outnumbered and weary, battle is quick and the Harbaalese pose no strong resistance and are soon beaten and Torvald is captured by the ecstatic Kaldoric army.

Kroden, along with the remaining huscarls from the three main groups and the other section of fighters flee to the north and their base camp. The tales of exploding heads and fearsome wyverns spread quickly through the Harbaalese camp.


As Lord Ewen surveyed the field, and knew the day was won, Sir Daxton Synarth trotted over to him, and dismounted. “A great victory, my lord,” he exulted.

“It is indeed, Sir Daxton.”

Lord Prehil, attending, said, “What goes on to the west?”

Goreg came up unnoticed as they all peered in the direction the noble lord indicated. There, at the very summit of the peak, flashes of light could be seen. Before long, it appeared the crown of the mountain was all aflame, and by that point, booming sounds could be heard. “Sir Daxton, “What is that eminence?” Lord Ewen asked.

“Mt. Nyhtloc, milord,” the valiant knight responded. “But in all my years it has ever been still.”

“Not this day,” Lord Ewen mused. “Ours is not the only battle it seems. We must return to Olokand and divine what other forces may oppose us.”
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