The cries of the injured raiders are a pitiful contrast to their previous bloodthirsty calls for your deaths. The black dust settles from the air on your bodies like snow to reveal several orcs surveying the carnage, their weapons at the ready. They call back to the giant to let him know that the threat appears to be neutralized: it must have been a small skirmishing force, probably meant to distract him from attack the main force, and don’t worry they’ll kill the stragglers.
Bypassing you entirely, they move to the broken raiders tangled in the shattered, splintered branches of the tree and, one by one, end their cries, ignoring your still forms. There’s no way any of you could have survived a full on impact with the tree in mid flight, they must think. The tree had landed and rolled before it hit the raiders, but you are clearly dead.
You can see the giant turn away from you and pull out another tree from the earth. The sound of battle is clearer now that you have a chance to breathe. The clashes and death cries harmonize evilly with the groans and pleas of the raiders tangled in the tree.
Presently, the orcs are finished with their gruesome task. The few raiders that had taken up chase of you are dead, hanging limply from the tree like bloody ornaments. The orcs move back to the giant, focused on the battlefield, without paying you any attention.
They are about 50 feet from you to the east. The scraggly tree line to the south may offer you some cover, but you’ll have to get there. You are sure to kick up some dust, but it is possible you could sneak away without being noticed. The orcs do not appear to be paying any attention to you at all.
@lolien To clarify, FG-11 didn’t follow you here. As far as you know, you are 4 miles away from him, where he is still hanging out with the angry barbarians’ families in the pass.
Do you want to try to make the journey back to FG-11 across the battlefield, through the abandoned village, into the pass, and up to the angry barbarians, away from your companions?
Sus'Ann feels that somewhere their actions went wrong. She feels shame for abandoning their new allies in such a horrible situation. She worries about FG-11 the most, the golem's experiences of the outside world is confusing at the best. The dwarven women thinks that she cannot help much on this battlefield, but she may be able to save their alliance with the barbarians. She don't know how will she explain the occurrences to them, or convince them to join the battle against the orcs, but she believe in the Refiners guidance.
@lolien
Ok, that sounds like an interesting idea if that’s what you want to try.
In order to best keep the story coherent, if you want to split the party in this manner I will start a new thread with just your character and run these two stories concurrently.
Please be aware that this moment is a critical moment in the story. Every decision will have massive impacts on how the story unfolds from here. I make no guarantee that your character is reunited with the others before the climax of the story. It will depend on how successful you are, which, logically... you did just participate in murdering their revered leader.
It will be a very fun concept for me to write with you if you confirm this.
"where's that woman going?" Colden thinks to himself as he watches Sus'ann moving about in what appears to be the wrong direction.
As the orcs and giant moves away, Colden starts to crawl his way towards the others, whispering to them; "Friends, let's sneak away while we can. We must reach the Astorwind forces as soon as possible and lend whatever aid we can in the battle"
" M'Lady Sus'Ann! ", Nareth whispers desperately. " What is she doing? "
" Damn! She is going to sacrifice herself to those barbarians, or what? M'Lady Sus'Ann!.. ", Nareth calls the dwarven priestess for the last time, then swears quietly and tightens his helmet. He nods to Colden and starts to crawl slowly in opposite direction, where their goal lies. They had to make haste until it is too late. The short but deadly long way still lied ahead, towards the King's army.
The screams of death rise from the east as the giant creature throws another tree in the direction of the Astorwind forces. You slowly rise and move for the scraggly tree line in the distance.
As you rise, the thickly piled black dust falls from you, ashes of death. You make a break for the treeline when one of the orcs spots you. It shouts out and points in your direction, and you take off at a sprint, your cover blown.
The giant hurls a rock in your direction, but you swerve through the trees. The huge rock glances off the branches, knocking sticks and more black dust into your path. You jump over a fallen tree trunk when Jirt, the rearguard, calls out.
You turn to see that one of the orcs has overtaken you, the first one that saw you. It had engaged Jirt in a quick battle, but Jirt kicked the orc to the side and into a tree, knocking him senseless. You have no time to pause, so you take off immediately.
The orcs quickly lose you in the dizzying, greyed landscape of trunks and black dust. You are running blind, but your adrenaline is high and you don't think to stop.
"There!" screams Jirt, pointing to your left. Somehow, you made it past enemy lines. You can see the forces of Astorwind in a bustle. Horses and men are dragging logs and rocks for barricades and traps. There are no tents as it seems this was a hastily chosen battlefield.
You make your way to the first sentry. He spots you and recognizes you immediately.
"Thank the Refiner!" he shouts. "Master Cramnoch has returned with allies!"
The cry is quickly taken up as the sentry escorts you to central command. There you come upon General Gressick and King Corak in heated conversation.
"There!" says King Corak, pointing to a hastily drawn map in the dirt. "We need our forces there now! Take out that blasted giant!"
Gressick dispatches a messenger to the flank to shift the army's movement. "These blasted beasts, these giants, they are the key to this battle!" he says.
"Aye, terrible they are," says King Corak, his face grim and solemn. He looks out at the battlefield, his eyes glazed over as though in contemplation or memory. "Of a time long dead, they are, long dead indeed..."
"My king!" says General Gressick. "Look, Master Colden has arrived!" He approaches and pulls his daughter into a tight embrace.
"Colden!?" says King Corak, approaching you and gripping you in welcome. "At last, my trusted advisor! Pray, tell me, Colden, what of the barbarians of the Bloodeye Clan? Have they agreed to come to our aid?"
Colden walks up the king and gives a courteous quick bow.
"My lord, I have dire news. The barbarians were unfortunately not willing to join us. At first they listened to us and for a while it seemed they might join our forces, but at the end (Colden throws a quick glance at Laggie) the bad blood between us was too much to overcome. We also lost a brave soldier, Kefto bit the dust like a true hero in a savage battle between us and the barbarians."
Colden then continues to quickly fill in the king on the overarching events and information about the enemy, the info the group had gathered during their adventure, about Nareth and the Refiner etc.
Sorry, but this thread has been so drawn out I've forgot a lot of the info we gathered, hehe.. I'll RP that Colden remembers though even though I myself doesn't
"Now, My Lord, what can we do to aid in this battle?"
King Corak listens half-heartedly to Colden unfold the tale. Truth be told, once Colden said the barbarians were not coming, he seemed to have lost any interest. Glad to be with his old advisor, though, he pretends to listen to Colden’s brief report.
“Yes, yes, of course,” says the King, not paying any attention to Nareth’s calling of the refiner.
Gressick, however, is paying special attention to every word. He can tell that something in the story is amiss, because he frowns in consternation when Colden glosses over the reason for the end to their brief alliance.
“Well, you can hardly be blamed, any of you, they are savages, little more than orcs,” says the King condescendingly. “It was a long shot, and I dare say you did admirably, much better than anyone would have except for perhaps myself. I do so excel at diplomatic relations...”
Just then there is a blood curling scream and a man lands on the dirt map between you, his cry cut off as his body breaks.
The calls are coming from soldiers all around you. You look up and see the three giants have charged a wedge formation through the makeshift defenses and parted them, letting orcs in.
Prince Casak, his face flushed and his horse lathered, pulls up to you all. His eyes are grim and panicked. “Father!” he cries. “...I mean, Your Majesty! The orcs are overrunning us. Those giants have broken our line! We have only a few seconds to get you to safety before they are here! Yah!”
Without waiting for the affirmative command, he rushes off to the troops, calling retreat. Bodies of soldiers are now reigning from the sky as new projectiles thrown by the giants b
The king scowls at his sons lack of deference to his authority. But then he looks at the orcs falling upon you and, grimly, he nods to Gressick.
“Retreat! Retreat!” General Gressick takes up the call and ushers you to the care of his personal guard.
Having only just arrived, you now turn tail and run, your mission to bring allies and turn the battle failed.
I forget how many experience points you have right now, but you are all now level 4. Same gig as before, if you’re keeping track do your updates, if not, then you’re all set.
You look over your shoulder to see Prince Casak crying out in anguish. His trusted bodyguards, the two loyal thugs that have helped him terrorize the village, have taken firm stances with the rearguard. They turn to look at their beloved ward, then, with a grim nod, they shoo him away like mothers shooing a naughty child. Then they grit their teeth and turn to face the onslaught with the battalion covering your retreat. It is only now that you realize the two bodyguards are brothers.
“Father! I must...!” But General Gressick grabs the reigns of the horse and steers the prince away. Angrily, the prince kicks the general in the face and turns to charge back for his friends.
But they are already dead, their bodies the first meat shields to the giants on the front lines.
“No!” screams the prince, his voice truly anguished and tortured. Then, screaming in fury, he charges ahead to lead the retreat.
Your retreat is arduous and long. Once you are out of range of the giants, they seem to chose to hang back and pursue you at a slow pace, realizing you have now where to go with your higher numbers of injured.
Dusk settles gray with the brooding ferocity of a coming storm. Such winds and rains and snows are common this time of year. But catching your army out in the open like this could spell certain death to you all.
“We must make our way back to the castle,” says Gressick in the war council. “If they do not overcome us, then our best bet is to fight from our most defensible position. I suggest that we leave the wounded, for the greater good. They are only slowing us down, and with their burden, I fear none of us will make it.”
The king is nodding thoughtfully. Looking at each of you, Colden (and the unassuming Lagrord), Casak, a captain named Hogler, and, surprisingly, Kem, the rebel halting, and Nareth.
sorry, going to the park. Will be afk for a while. Will take action when I can. And btw, I think I will have to level up a bard using ie nvn2 or something to see what spells I get so I can stop being a one-trick pony so far I have just RP'ed and also breached the rules since I've RPed the bard having different kind of songs from level 1, but I guess that's ok
"I-ah"
*Largrord very nearly speaks out of turn, covering his outburst as heavy breathing from the exertion. He has been in the company of "equals" for so long, he nearly forgot himself*
No one even even flinches when Lagrord makes his noise. He’s convinced he could lay out a successful plan of strategic counter attack and they wouldn’t even hear him.
Kem, his face turning red, looks at Gressick. “Leave the wounded, eh, muddy?” he scowls. “Ya wouldna be sayin’ that if yer daughter was one o’ the wounded, now would ya?”
You’re surprised that Kem, being the lead rebel against the draft, should be part of this council. Indeed, your surprised to even see him alive. It seemed likely that Prince Casak or even King Corak would have had him silenced due to his disturbance.
Prince Casak scowls, his face red and angry. You can see that he has been crying heavily, for his eyes are puffy and stained. “Were your stubby, lazy legs setting the pace then we would all have been dead this afternoon,” he sneers.
Kem sits back, looking at Casak intently. “What’s as good, eh? Runnin’ home like a bunch o’ cowards to leave them as pledged their lives to protecting yer lands, or taking a stand fer honor? Like yer friends did, standin’ in honor fer yer life, may Father Harvest refine them to himself.”
Prince Casak chokes up, and glares at the halfling, but his emotions are too raw for him to say anything without breaking. He turns away.
And then it dawns on you when you look at King Corak. He has a imperceptible grin on his face, as though he is cruelly enjoying watching Kem’s and Casak’s interactions. Though Kem has thus far been cordial, you can’t imagine how degrading it must be for the prince to have Kem on the war council. The very halfling who nearly stirred up a rebellion on the eve of desperate battle is now perceived, by the common soldier, as an equal to the Prince who tried to kill him.
Nareth calmly listened to Colden's tale of their journey. He was too tired to be surprised that the old scoundrel Kim is not just alive, but gives advices sitting next to the generals and the King. In fact, they failed their mission: the alliance is not concluded, and the enemy is already storming the borders of Astorwind. Although, Nareth’s personal assignment to protect Colden, he fulfilled. And now this is an unexpected retreat! The captain grimaced in exasperation. Catching the King's inquiring gaze, Nareth stood it, calmly looking directly into the King's eyes.
" My general ... Retreat does not win the war. But ya right, we must regroup and ensure a safe retreat to the King and the Prince. I ask you to let me go to the front line, where I belong. My place is next to the soldiers and I will try to spare as many lives as possible. The Refiner sees, we need them at the castle walls. ", Nareth bowed to the King and said afterwards " My lord! I beg you to leave this camp and go to cover behind the walls of Astorwind Castle, along with the young Prince and Colden. "
" And now... I asks for yer permission to leave to the front line. ", Nareth saluted, how he used to do. He felt uneasy and preferred to swing the sword instead of swinging his tongue. The captain has never been strong in communication and persuasion. He thrown the one quick gaze on Kim and noded.
I don't want to split our party as I makes it harder to @mashedtaters to deal with heroes apart, but I feel like Nareth has to be on the battlefield. He is a Senior King's Guard though, so I am not sure.
The king chuckles. “Eager for savage blood, are you captain?” he says with grandfatherly affection, casting a sidelong glance at his son. “Easy, now, there’s not much blood to be had at the moment. It’s night. Though the orcs fight better at night, their giant friends don’t and I’d wager we won’t see them until morning when they can wage war at their finest. Aye, those giants...” his eyes grow distant and he looks away, as though remembering.
General Gressick clears his throat pointedly. “Nareth brings up a solid, point, Corak... er, my King,” he says. “We must get you back to the safety of the Astorwind’s walls before the storm hits. At that point, with the wounded we may as well be bound to the earth.
“Though our halfling, erm... advisor disagrees, we must think of the greater good. We cannot survive without a king, and our king cannot survive if we stay here to protect wounded men who will likely die from their wounds during the harshness of the winter anyway.”
He looks pointedly at Kem, who is beat red on his furry cheeks.
Casak sneers at the general, his face still puffy and red from his crying earlier.
“It seems to me that the great general Gressick wishes only to save his own hide,” he sneers. “Convenient for you that the greater good involves saving your own life.”
The general’s face darken, but he keeps silent. Kem looks at the prince with interest, and even the silent Hogler perks up.
“I for one will not allow the sacrifices of our men to be in vain,” says the prince, his face marred by contempt and hatred. “I shall stay here with our men to live or die by the sword in honor. We are the only thing that stands between the vermin of Astorwind’s mud farms and the enemy. Those sods, those voracious, hungry, ungrateful peasants who work Astorwind’s farm, they know not how their lands are protected, and our job is a thankless one...
“But their thanks is irrelevant, for we must all eat. We must be prepared for the harshness of Winter. If the enemy makes it back to the castle, perhaps the walls will hold them off for a time, though I doubt it. Those walls have never been tested against the strength of these giants. But even if the walls hold, the orcs will cut us off from our food in a siege, and we will starve. In trying to save your life and give up your honor, you may end up causing your deaths.
“So, say all you want about the greater good. I know the truth. The only greater good you care for is your own skin. You are a coward.”
Kem’s face turns in a mixture of insult at being referred to as vermin by the prince and gratitude for the prince taking his side. Hogler looks on stoically. General Gressick looks furious and moves to as though he is about to strike out at the prince.
But before he can make a move, the King is there, quick and decisive. With a powerful backhanded swing, he strikes his son squarely across the face, knocking him from his seat.
The prince falls to the ground and the king kicks him squarely in the chest. “You stupid boy, you child! Have I taught you nothing?! Have you learned nothing??!!”
He bends over and punches down onto his son repeatedly with closed fists. Casak lays there meekly in terror as his father rains violence down upon him. The king’s face has twisted into a visage of red wrath.
The king’s fits of rage and abuse on his son have been an open secret among the castle’s gossip circles, especially when the prince was younger. The cries and painful sounds of their “disagreements,” a word the prince always used with Colden while under his tutelage, echoed throughout the entire castle. While such treatment may have been uncomfortable to witness, most were too afraid to speak out or incur the king’s wrath on themselves. Those that did often found themselves coincidentally incriminated for other unrelated reasons.
Never before, though, has the king deigned to beat his son in front of others. Not only is this painful for Casak, but ultimately humiliating.
“You’re weak, weak and foolish!” screams the king, punching and kicking at his son. “You would die like your foolish servants just for the sake of some fake, dead notion of honor! There is no honor in this world, boy!”
Panting and exhausted, the king steps away, looking down on his son with disgust. The prince, looking very much like a young child at the moment, looks up at his father with tears and blood falling from his wounded face. He sobs silently, looking very hurt indeed. It is surprising to you In the moment that a man so proud and capable
on the field of battle can be so ultimately cowed by his older and physically weaker father. You know that the defeat is psychological.
“There is strength and death, and to be one is to stave off the other,” says King Corak with contempt. “You should have learned that by now, foolish boy.”
Comments
Bypassing you entirely, they move to the broken raiders tangled in the shattered, splintered branches of the tree and, one by one, end their cries, ignoring your still forms. There’s no way any of you could have survived a full on impact with the tree in mid flight, they must think. The tree had landed and rolled before it hit the raiders, but you are clearly dead.
You can see the giant turn away from you and pull out another tree from the earth. The sound of battle is clearer now that you have a chance to breathe. The clashes and death cries harmonize evilly with the groans and pleas of the raiders tangled in the tree.
Presently, the orcs are finished with their gruesome task. The few raiders that had taken up chase of you are dead, hanging limply from the tree like bloody ornaments. The orcs move back to the giant, focused on the battlefield, without paying you any attention.
They are about 50 feet from you to the east. The scraggly tree line to the south may offer you some cover, but you’ll have to get there. You are sure to kick up some dust, but it is possible you could sneak away without being noticed. The orcs do not appear to be paying any attention to you at all.
What do you do?
Do you want to try to make the journey back to FG-11 across the battlefield, through the abandoned village, into the pass, and up to the angry barbarians, away from your companions?
Sus'Ann feels that somewhere their actions went wrong. She feels shame for abandoning their new allies in such a horrible situation. She worries about FG-11 the most, the golem's experiences of the outside world is confusing at the best. The dwarven women thinks that she cannot help much on this battlefield, but she may be able to save their alliance with the barbarians. She don't know how will she explain the occurrences to them, or convince them to join the battle against the orcs, but she believe in the Refiners guidance.
Ok, that sounds like an interesting idea if that’s what you want to try.
In order to best keep the story coherent, if you want to split the party in this manner I will start a new thread with just your character and run these two stories concurrently.
Please be aware that this moment is a critical moment in the story. Every decision will have massive impacts on how the story unfolds from here. I make no guarantee that your character is reunited with the others before the climax of the story. It will depend on how successful you are, which, logically... you did just participate in murdering their revered leader.
It will be a very fun concept for me to write with you if you confirm this.
Please confirm you wish to split the party before I start the new thread.
As the orcs and giant moves away, Colden starts to crawl his way towards the others, whispering to them; "Friends, let's sneak away while we can. We must reach the Astorwind forces as soon as possible and lend whatever aid we can in the battle"
" Damn! She is going to sacrifice herself to those barbarians, or what? M'Lady Sus'Ann!.. ", Nareth calls the dwarven priestess for the last time, then swears quietly and tightens his helmet. He nods to Colden and starts to crawl slowly in opposite direction, where their goal lies. They had to make haste until it is too late. The short but deadly long way still lied ahead, towards the King's army.
Minion, roll 1d20 for Sneak Success
As you rise, the thickly piled black dust falls from you, ashes of death. You make a break for the treeline when one of the orcs spots you. It shouts out and points in your direction, and you take off at a sprint, your cover blown.
The giant hurls a rock in your direction, but you swerve through the trees. The huge rock glances off the branches, knocking sticks and more black dust into your path. You jump over a fallen tree trunk when Jirt, the rearguard, calls out.
You turn to see that one of the orcs has overtaken you, the first one that saw you. It had engaged Jirt in a quick battle, but Jirt kicked the orc to the side and into a tree, knocking him senseless. You have no time to pause, so you take off immediately.
The orcs quickly lose you in the dizzying, greyed landscape of trunks and black dust. You are running blind, but your adrenaline is high and you don't think to stop.
"There!" screams Jirt, pointing to your left. Somehow, you made it past enemy lines. You can see the forces of Astorwind in a bustle. Horses and men are dragging logs and rocks for barricades and traps. There are no tents as it seems this was a hastily chosen battlefield.
You make your way to the first sentry. He spots you and recognizes you immediately.
"Thank the Refiner!" he shouts. "Master Cramnoch has returned with allies!"
The cry is quickly taken up as the sentry escorts you to central command. There you come upon General Gressick and King Corak in heated conversation.
Gressick dispatches a messenger to the flank to shift the army's movement. "These blasted beasts, these giants, they are the key to this battle!" he says.
"Aye, terrible they are," says King Corak, his face grim and solemn. He looks out at the battlefield, his eyes glazed over as though in contemplation or memory. "Of a time long dead, they are, long dead indeed..."
"My king!" says General Gressick. "Look, Master Colden has arrived!" He approaches and pulls his daughter into a tight embrace.
"Colden!?" says King Corak, approaching you and gripping you in welcome. "At last, my trusted advisor! Pray, tell me, Colden, what of the barbarians of the Bloodeye Clan? Have they agreed to come to our aid?"
https://forums.beamdog.com/discussion/77768/rp-winters-valley-the-plight-of-susann#latest
"My lord, I have dire news. The barbarians were unfortunately not willing to join us. At first they listened to us and for a while it seemed they might join our forces, but at the end (Colden throws a quick glance at Laggie) the bad blood between us was too much to overcome. We also lost a brave soldier, Kefto bit the dust like a true hero in a savage battle between us and the barbarians."
Colden then continues to quickly fill in the king on the overarching events and information about the enemy, the info the group had gathered during their adventure, about Nareth and the Refiner etc.
"Now, My Lord, what can we do to aid in this battle?"
King Corak listens half-heartedly to Colden unfold the tale. Truth be told, once Colden said the barbarians were not coming, he seemed to have lost any interest. Glad to be with his old advisor, though, he pretends to listen to Colden’s brief report.
“Yes, yes, of course,” says the King, not paying any attention to Nareth’s calling of the refiner.
Gressick, however, is paying special attention to every word. He can tell that something in the story is amiss, because he frowns in consternation when Colden glosses over the reason for the end to their brief alliance.
“Well, you can hardly be blamed, any of you, they are savages, little more than orcs,” says the King condescendingly. “It was a long shot, and I dare say you did admirably, much better than anyone would have except for perhaps myself. I do so excel at diplomatic relations...”
Just then there is a blood curling scream and a man lands on the dirt map between you, his cry cut off as his body breaks.
“Breach! Breach! The front line is breached!”
Prince Casak, his face flushed and his horse lathered, pulls up to you all. His eyes are grim and panicked. “Father!” he cries. “...I mean, Your Majesty! The orcs are overrunning us. Those giants have broken our line! We have only a few seconds to get you to safety before they are here! Yah!”
Without waiting for the affirmative command, he rushes off to the troops, calling retreat. Bodies of soldiers are now reigning from the sky as new projectiles thrown by the giants b
The king scowls at his sons lack of deference to his authority. But then he looks at the orcs falling upon you and, grimly, he nods to Gressick.
“Retreat! Retreat!” General Gressick takes up the call and ushers you to the care of his personal guard.
Having only just arrived, you now turn tail and run, your mission to bring allies and turn the battle failed.
You look over your shoulder to see Prince Casak crying out in anguish. His trusted bodyguards, the two loyal thugs that have helped him terrorize the village, have taken firm stances with the rearguard. They turn to look at their beloved ward, then, with a grim nod, they shoo him away like mothers shooing a naughty child. Then they grit their teeth and turn to face the onslaught with the battalion covering your retreat. It is only now that you realize the two bodyguards are brothers.
“Father! I must...!” But General Gressick grabs the reigns of the horse and steers the prince away. Angrily, the prince kicks the general in the face and turns to charge back for his friends.
But they are already dead, their bodies the first meat shields to the giants on the front lines.
“No!” screams the prince, his voice truly anguished and tortured. Then, screaming in fury, he charges ahead to lead the retreat.
Dusk settles gray with the brooding ferocity of a coming storm. Such winds and rains and snows are common this time of year. But catching your army out in the open like this could spell certain death to you all.
“We must make our way back to the castle,” says Gressick in the war council. “If they do not overcome us, then our best bet is to fight from our most defensible position. I suggest that we leave the wounded, for the greater good. They are only slowing us down, and with their burden, I fear none of us will make it.”
The king is nodding thoughtfully. Looking at each of you, Colden (and the unassuming Lagrord), Casak, a captain named Hogler, and, surprisingly, Kem, the rebel halting, and Nareth.
The king waits for you to weigh in.
What do you do?
*Largrord very nearly speaks out of turn, covering his outburst as heavy breathing from the exertion. He has been in the company of "equals" for so long, he nearly forgot himself*
Kem, his face turning red, looks at Gressick. “Leave the wounded, eh, muddy?” he scowls. “Ya wouldna be sayin’ that if yer daughter was one o’ the wounded, now would ya?”
You’re surprised that Kem, being the lead rebel against the draft, should be part of this council. Indeed, your surprised to even see him alive. It seemed likely that Prince Casak or even King Corak would have had him silenced due to his disturbance.
Prince Casak scowls, his face red and angry. You can see that he has been crying heavily, for his eyes are puffy and stained. “Were your stubby, lazy legs setting the pace then we would all have been dead this afternoon,” he sneers.
Kem sits back, looking at Casak intently. “What’s as good, eh? Runnin’ home like a bunch o’ cowards to leave them as pledged their lives to protecting yer lands, or taking a stand fer honor? Like yer friends did, standin’ in honor fer yer life, may Father Harvest refine them to himself.”
Prince Casak chokes up, and glares at the halfling, but his emotions are too raw for him to say anything without breaking. He turns away.
And then it dawns on you when you look at King Corak. He has a imperceptible grin on his face, as though he is cruelly enjoying watching Kem’s and Casak’s interactions. Though Kem has thus far been cordial, you can’t imagine how degrading it must be for the prince to have Kem on the war council. The very halfling who nearly stirred up a rebellion on the eve of desperate battle is now perceived, by the common soldier, as an equal to the Prince who tried to kill him.
" My general ... Retreat does not win the war. But ya right, we must regroup and ensure a safe retreat to the King and the Prince. I ask you to let me go to the front line, where I belong. My place is next to the soldiers and I will try to spare as many lives as possible. The Refiner sees, we need them at the castle walls. ", Nareth bowed to the King and said afterwards " My lord! I beg you to leave this camp and go to cover behind the walls of Astorwind Castle, along with the young Prince and Colden. "
" And now... I asks for yer permission to leave to the front line. ", Nareth saluted, how he used to do. He felt uneasy and preferred to swing the sword instead of swinging his tongue. The captain has never been strong in communication and persuasion. He thrown the one quick gaze on Kim and noded.
" I am glad to see ya alive, matey. "
General Gressick clears his throat pointedly. “Nareth brings up a solid, point, Corak... er, my King,” he says. “We must get you back to the safety of the Astorwind’s walls before the storm hits. At that point, with the wounded we may as well be bound to the earth.
“Though our halfling, erm... advisor disagrees, we must think of the greater good. We cannot survive without a king, and our king cannot survive if we stay here to protect wounded men who will likely die from their wounds during the harshness of the winter anyway.”
He looks pointedly at Kem, who is beat red on his furry cheeks.
“It seems to me that the great general Gressick wishes only to save his own hide,” he sneers. “Convenient for you that the greater good involves saving your own life.”
The general’s face darken, but he keeps silent. Kem looks at the prince with interest, and even the silent Hogler perks up.
“I for one will not allow the sacrifices of our men to be in vain,” says the prince, his face marred by contempt and hatred. “I shall stay here with our men to live or die by the sword in honor. We are the only thing that stands between the vermin of Astorwind’s mud farms and the enemy. Those sods, those voracious, hungry, ungrateful peasants who work Astorwind’s farm, they know not how their lands are protected, and our job is a thankless one...
“But their thanks is irrelevant, for we must all eat. We must be prepared for the harshness of Winter. If the enemy makes it back to the castle, perhaps the walls will hold them off for a time, though I doubt it. Those walls have never been tested against the strength of these giants. But even if the walls hold, the orcs will cut us off from our food in a siege, and we will starve. In trying to save your life and give up your honor, you may end up causing your deaths.
“So, say all you want about the greater good. I know the truth. The only greater good you care for is your own skin. You are a coward.”
Kem’s face turns in a mixture of insult at being referred to as vermin by the prince and gratitude for the prince taking his side. Hogler looks on stoically. General Gressick looks furious and moves to as though he is about to strike out at the prince.
The prince falls to the ground and the king kicks him squarely in the chest. “You stupid boy, you child! Have I taught you nothing?! Have you learned nothing??!!”
He bends over and punches down onto his son repeatedly with closed fists. Casak lays there meekly in terror as his father rains violence down upon him. The king’s face has twisted into a visage of red wrath.
The king’s fits of rage and abuse on his son have been an open secret among the castle’s gossip circles, especially when the prince was younger. The cries and painful sounds of their “disagreements,” a word the prince always used with Colden while under his tutelage, echoed throughout the entire castle. While such treatment may have been uncomfortable to witness, most were too afraid to speak out or incur the king’s wrath on themselves. Those that did often found themselves coincidentally incriminated for other unrelated reasons.
Never before, though, has the king deigned to beat his son in front of others. Not only is this painful for Casak, but ultimately humiliating.
“You’re weak, weak and foolish!” screams the king, punching and kicking at his son. “You would die like your foolish servants just for the sake of some fake, dead notion of honor! There is no honor in this world, boy!”
Panting and exhausted, the king steps away, looking down on his son with disgust. The prince, looking very much like a young child at the moment, looks up at his father with tears and blood falling from his wounded face. He sobs silently, looking very hurt indeed. It is surprising to you In the moment that a man so proud and capable
on the field of battle can be so ultimately cowed by his older and physically weaker father. You know that the defeat is psychological.
“There is strength and death, and to be one is to stave off the other,” says King Corak with contempt. “You should have learned that by now, foolish boy.”