Dark clouds began to gather in the sky above as snow continued to fall and there was something about it which seemed… unnatural to Lothaire. His eyes squinted beneath the visors of his antlered armet helmet as he studied the way the clouds moved for in the many wars he had fought against the enemies of Man, the minions of darkness often used foul sorcery to blot out the sun as a way to intimidate their foes. Something at the back of his mind insisted that there was something unnatural about it and he was inclined to believe it for he noted the way his mace began to softly glow.
Looking to the cloaked Grey Wardens whose attentions were also turned to the sky, he noted the way which they carefully held their weapons and he knew that he was not alone in his suspicions.
'Darkspawn sorcery' said the lead Warden; Arion, who spoke in the language which the man insisted was called Orlesian, despite sounding exactly like an oddly accented Breton.
'Are any of those creatures nearby?' asked the Paladin who tightened his hold upon the handle of his mace which rested over his right shoulder.
'No, but I believe that they are…' replied the Grey Warden who then looked to the frozen tundra ahead and after a moment he pointed to the northeast and said 'there'.
'Are you certain of this?' questioned the Paladin with more than a bit of skepticism while raising a curious eyebrow for there were hardly any tracks which they could follow that was not covered by the falling snow.
'I am positive' replied Arion who then continued to speak. 'It is a Grey Warden thing, we are… well, let's just say we are very good at finding the Darkspawn, wherever they are and wherever they may be hiding.'
'I see' replied Lothaire with some suspicion for he was a man who knew a thing or two about tracking and surviving in the wilds.
During his younger years as a Knight Errant, Lothaire had spent much time fighting beastmen in the Forests of Arden and traveling with groups of nomadic peasants who made their living as hunters, trappers as well as scouts and rangers for the armies of Bretonnia. In those days, he had learned much by observing the peasants who had developed an almost supernatural sixth sense in finding out the locations of beastmen encampments or the lairs of large monsters and even following the movements of entire armies through forest and snow during winter. He supposed that it is possible that these Wardens were just as capable but he could not discount some… other possibilities which would have darker implications.
One of the other Wardens, the woman named Anna then said something in their native language, the one which sounded like the tongue of Albion and other Wardens nodded to her.
'We need to move, now' quickly said Arion.
'Trouble?' asked the Paladin who was quite eager to do some smiting for it was quite a good way to get the blood pumping and the body warm.
'Aye, there might be people who need our help' answered the Warden.
'Then we must not waste any time!' said Lothaire and the party of five broke quickened their and pressed on through the deep snow.
Reaching for the ancient, rune etched horn which had been carried on the side of his belt, Albrecht Krieger lifted the instrument up to his lips and he let loose a single mighty peal which sounded much like the how of a wolf. Not bothering to give those around him an explanation for he spoke none of their foreign speech, the Warrior Priest merely followed the stench which was the same as the creatures he had encountered in the cave and he hoped that it would be enough to alert the. Tightly gripping his blessed hammer, the head of which was fully coated with ice, he noticed that the sky had suddenly darkened and there was something about it which caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.
Gritting his teeth beneath the wolf-skull mask, Albrecht felt the battle-rage build up within him as he continued to run. Eventually making it to the edge of the camp where a few sentries armed with hunting bows stood guard. Each of the archers had a readied look in their stances, aware that there was something out there in the snow-swept tundra.
One of the archers looked to Albrecht with a surprised expression and it was then that he saw something behind the barbarian. A hideous, ghoul-like creature clad in crude armour appeared from the darkness like the cyclopean, mist-born fiends of dark legend which stole away victims to be sacrificed for the Dark Gods. The monster gave a loud, bat-like shriek before plunging a pair of long wrist-mounted blades into the shoulders of the unfortunate archer and soon the air became filled the ear-splitting cacophonies of the beasts.
Raising up his hammer and holding it in a two-handed grip, Albrecht swung his weapon in a vertical arc which caught the ghoul-like creature below the jaw. Bones crunched beneath the blow of the hammer-strike which knocked the monster's head back with a loud snap of bone that knocked the thing down to the snowy ground. The other shrieking ghoul-things savagely attacked the barbarian archers like ratmen assassins, their blades plunging in and out of human flesh protected only by mere furs and leathers.
Wishing that he had a bow or a throwing weapon, the Warrior Priest simply rushed another of the creatures closest to him with hammer trailing behind and he let loose a loud, wolf-like howl. The Ghoul-thing of which had been busy disemboweling a barbarian looked up from its latest kill and gave a loud screech, baring sharp needle-like teeth. Thrusting his hammer forward, the ghoul-thing leapt back, trying to avoid being struck but the Ulrican warrior continued to race forward and he followed up with a sharp punch which connected with the thing's snout.
Feeling the impact as his gauntleted fist struck against tainted flesh with enough force to break teeth, the Warrior Priest quickly followed up with a hammer strike to the skull, his right hand close to the head for the sake of speed. His second attack was not enough to outright kill it but the mystical frost which covered the weapon began sending daggers of cold into the monster's brain. Loudly screeching again but in clear agony added, it lashed out at Albrecht with one of it's the wrist-mounted blades but as ever, the dependable Dwarf-forged steel armour held and sparks flew as it slid off but the impact was enough to cause the Warrior Priest to grunt in pain and he kept his attention squarely on the monster.
Delivering a swift forward kick to knock the thing back, he succeeded in pushing it away and he held his hammer with both hands.
'ULRIC!' roared Albrecht Krieger who raised his hammer up high and he brought its head down with all of his might. The Ghoul-thing did not have time to react before the blessed weapon came crashing down on its skull, causing it to burst like an overripe melon and splattering bits of brain, bone and burning blood upon the Warrior Priest.
Quickly recovering from the strike and setting into a defensive stance, Albrecht saw the other ghoul-things eye him with baleful glares. Like hungry wolves who have found prey, they cautiously began to circle around the man who was already planning his own attack. Suddenly bursting into motion, Albrecht charged another of the things with another howl and he allowed his battle-rage to fully take over for such was the way of Ulric the Wolf Lord, Ulric the Snow King, Ulric the Blood Hand.
Let the Myrmidians, Elves and others deal with the nuances of strategy and planning for all the Warrior Priest needed was courage, strength and faith in himself and his skill in battle.
Calls of alarm were heard all over encampment and Roanoke desperately rushed out of his tent with axe in hand, his eyes wide with surprise and fear.
'Alfhild!' he shouted while desperately searching about for his daughter among the crowd of fellow clansmen who also came out of their tents armed for battle. 'Alfhild!' he shouted again as the women folk tightly clutched their children and he heard the sounds of loud, bestial screeches which filled the air.
Frantically trying to find the source of the noise, he saw something large and lanky moving quickly among the crowd and he tried to shout a word of warning but was too late and the creature leapt upon one of the children.
Shouting a curse, Roanoke ran towards the thing with hands wrapped around the handle of his axe and he shouted wildly, trying to get the thing's attention and it looked towards him. A hideous, thin limbed creature with pointy ears, a hairless skull, sharp teeth with mandibles on the side and wearing crude armor hissed at him before plunging what looked to be a wrist-mounted blade into the back of the defenseless child. The huntsman's eyes widened in horror but he did not halt his charge towards the monster nor did he falter in step as he drew ever closer to the monstrous thing which surely must be some other form of Darkspawn.
The Darkspawn creature then let loose a threatening hiss and in a single, moment, it began bounding towards him on all fours like a wild animal. Preparing himself for the possibility that it would leap towards him, Roanoke swept his axe in a sideway arc, loosening his grip by just a little to allow the wooden handle slide off a bit and to give himself some extra reach. The blade of his axe slammed buried with a loud, sickening crunch into the side of the monster's head, knocking it into the snowy ground and the impact of the strike made it feel like he had just tried to hit a full grown bear.
Not giving the thing time to recover, the huntsman quickly kicked the Darkspawn in its bloodied face before bringing its axe down on its head again and again. A loud wet crack resounded as Roanoke's axe struck the skull of the monster and he felt more of its burning blood splatter against his face. By the time he was sure the thing was dead, all that had been left of its head was a grisly lump of meat and bone. The familiar peal of a hunting horn then blew from elsewhere in the camp and a measure of hope filled the heart of Roanoke for it was a call to arms for the entire clan.
Following the sound of the horn, the huntsman knew that his daughter and anyone who could fight would be heading there. All around him, Roanoke saw many chaotic scenes play out as more of the shrieking Darkspawn had somehow managed to make it into the heart of the camp and past the sentries who were supposed to have been on the lookout. Despite being filled with a paternal dread for the wellbeing of his daughter, he knew that he could not abandon those of his clan of whom he could help.
Taking a deep breath and drawing an arrow from her quiver, Alfhild quickly nocked the projectile upon the string of her bow and she took aim at one nightmarish, thin limbed monster before firing. Straight and true, the arrow flew across the frozen air, its waxed head successfully struck the right eye of the thing and it buried itself deep into the hole. Doing her best to keep calm and avoid panicking, she remembered the lessons her father had taught her.
"In the wilds, never lose your nerve" he father had once said. "There may come a time when the hunt may not go as you wish and all that will stand between the hunter from becoming the hunted is what you do next".
A palpable sense of fear permeated around Alfhild's fellow clansmen, many of whom tightly held onto what weapons they carried and they called out to loved ones who had yet to be accounted for. The only one who was keeping them together was Thane Ivar whose face was mostly concealed by his horned helmet and he shouted orders towards the others. Clansmen armed with melee weapons or with shields were forming a defensive ring while those armed with bows remained behind along with the children and elderly.
The loud peal of the Thane's horn blew again, a rallying call to the rest of the clan to gather around it. As more people sought safety and strength which was offered by numbers, Alfhild remained on the lookout for her father who was still out there.
'More of them!' shouted one of the clan warriors and the young huntress turned her eyes to the man who shouted and she saw where he was pointing out.
From the darkness came five more of the long limbed monsters, each one shrieking loudly and bounding towards them like wild animals. Quickly bringing up her bow and focusing on being able to make a shot, Alfhild fired another arrow which was joined by several others. Two of the things went down; another stumbled but kept on going while the remaining two did not seem to even seem the slightest bit bothered about being shot.
'Shield wall!' ordered the Thane and immediately did several of the clansmen move closer to form a defensive line. The two monsters crashed into the shield wall, knocking down one clansman while the other was quickly stabbed in the right shoulder and would have been killed had the nearest other warriors not intervened with a well placed axe strike to the back of the thing's head. The other Darkspawn beast leapt towards the Thane with blades raised high and Alfhild quickly tried to bring her bow to bear upon the it but their clan's chieftain was quick to react.
With a single, mighty swing of his hammer, Thane Ivar smashed the head of his maul into the side of the monster's face, creating a loud crunch of bone as its skull was pulverized from the single strike. The creature flopped lifelessly into the snowy ground and the chieftain then began calling out to reorganize their defensive formation. Quickly turning her eyes back to the camp and seeing more people rally to them, Alfhild's heart leapt in joy when she saw her father leading a group of several other clan-folk towards them and suddenly, several great bestial roars were heard not far away from the group.
The ground then began to tremble and several tents were either torn down or outright destroyed and whatever it was, it drew closer to them. Alfhild's eyes then widened in terror as she saw three massive, horned monstrosities crash through the nearest tents, splintering wood, bone and trampling the fur hide canvas. Standing taller than even a full grown bear, she saw a beast which sported a set of curling horns, rippling muscles and a great maw which was filled with sharp, dagger like teeth.
With a loud, thunderous roar, the three monsters charged into the gathered group of Chasind clanfolk. Soon, human bodies were sent flying, each one struck with bone shattering force as a horde of lesser but no less dangerous things which had been encircling the camp now launched their own, savage assault…
The presence of so many Darkspawn nearby was more than enough to set the nerves of Arion and his fellow Grey Wardens on edge. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand, an itch in his palms and a general feeling of being watched was mutual among them for he knew that the monsters could in turn, sense them. Every one of the humans traveled with weapons drawn, their eyes on the frozen horizon, wary for any other dangers such as wildlife or even hostile Chasind Wilders.
'How much further!?' called the knight towards Arion as the large man remained not far behind the lightly armored party of Wardens.
'Yonder past those hills' replied Duelist from Kirkwall who pointed one of his Saw-Swords towards the snow covered mounds ahead and the party moved on.
Within the minds of each of the Wardens, the sound of whispering voices grew louder, a strong sign of the great number of Darkspawn in the area. To many of them, the whispers were meaningless but for Arion, he was able to make some sense of what the monsters were doing. It seemed that a war party of Darkspawn had found a group of Chasind and the beasts were eagerly sating their lust for blood and violence.
It was then that they heard the sound of hunting horns being blown and soon were followed by great roars which were heard in the distance, the distinctly thunderous and bestial war cries of Darkspawn Ogres.
'What in the Lady's name was that!?' questioned Lothaire with alarm.
'Ogres' warily replied Arion who sheathed his twin swords and he drew a Dragonthorn Crossbow of Antivan craftsmanship that had been slung across his back. A quiver of specially prepared Sureshot Bolts which were specifically designed to kill Darkspawn had also rested on his back and the Duelist quickly loaded one of the projectiles into the ranged weapon and the other Wardens drew their own ranged weapons and Garth began handing them small bottles filled with poison.
Applying the a small dose of toxins to the tip of his loaded bolt, the Warden heard a disdainful grunt from the Knight. Behind the visor of Lothaire's helmet, Arion saw contempt in the eyes of the strange armored man whose gaze was focused on the crossbow which the Grey Warden carried and especially towards the small vial of poison he held. The Knight then turned away and stomped off towards the sound of battle.
Noticing the attentions of his fellow Grey Wardens, Arion nodded to them and grimly spoke. 'Time to bloody these bastards again…'
Huffing with contempt towards these Grey Wardens, Lothaire's opinion of them had just fallen further at the sight of them using ranged weapons and worse, poison! The only thing more cowardly than a black powder gun! Cresting over the series of snow-covered hills, the Paladin soon found the source of the battle. Upon the top of the hill, the Bretonnian Knight saw the dozens of fur hide tents and the many things which moved within the encampment.
At the center of the gathered tents, three massive horned creatures which he at first thought were Minotaurs, were rampaging among what clearly were other humans. With long, great muscled forms, the monstrous beings which surely could not be the ravenous denizens of the Mountains of Mourn, were swinging their mighty arms around and crushing bodies with each sweep. At the edge of the camp, not far from where the Paladin stood, he saw a single figure, surrounded by several corpses and more encroaching monsters.
Soft crunches of snow were heard from behind the Knight who glanced over his shoulder and he saw the four Grey Wardens. The three men were armed with crossbows with the bolts coated in toxins and the one woman who carried a longbow. It bothered him a bit that these Wardens would bring a woman to such a harsh land where it was clear that there were many monsters yet he reminded himself that it was not so different from the Iranna Mountains of Carcassonne he supposed which were patrolled by the local sheep herders who kept watch for warbands of the Iron Orcs.
Giving a quiet nod to the group of four hooded individuals, the Paladin held his mace in a two handed grip and he began to run down the hill towards the camp. Despite the unnatural darkness, he was able to get a good look at the monsters which were the same ones he had recently encountered; the things the Grey Wardens called Darkspawn. Of the lone figure, he saw a hammer-wielding warrior clad in a suit of plate armour, a grim bone mask and a fur cloak made from wolf moving with the stance of a skilled warrior.
'For the King! For the Lady!' roared Lothaire at the top of his lungs and he drew the attention of several monsters who bared their sharp teeth towards him. Like in the Darkspawn camp, the Paladin encountered the tall, man-sized monsters and the smaller stocky ones but there also were the bodies of many thin limbed things.
With a single might sweep Lothaire's blessed mace which blazed with fey-light crashed into the chest of a tall monster that came at him with two swords. The loud crack of metal striking against metal echoed into the dark, frozen air. Pulverizing organs and bones before crashing lifelessly into the snowy ground while others tried to attack the Paladin who kept a up a fine balancing act of aggressive and defensive tactics. Knowing that he was outnumbered by the things, Lothaire moved back and forth, trying to avoid having the creatures surrounded him while at the same time he pressed his attack.
A whistling sound was heard as an arrow flew past his head and burying into the eye of a Darkspawn that had been coming at him and immediately afterwards, three more monsters were cut down by well placed shots from the Grey Wardens. He would have preferred a more direct form of assistance from them such as with sword but he supposed that like the common peasant levies which supported the charges of Bretonnia's knights, ranged fighters such as archers and siege weapons had their uses. Regardless of their methods of combat, Lothaire had found some vile creatures of darkness and it was his duty to smite the foul things.
Like a raging Estalian bull, the Paladin continued an aggressive assault; his blessed mace crushed bones and pulped organs as soon as it made contact with the bodies of the Darkspawn. Smashing his way through the packs of monsters, his suit of full plate armour which was of best craftsmanship had been able to successfully protect him from crude swords and daggers but weapons such as axes and maces were far better at getting through his defenses. Pain flared across the body of Lothaire who ignored it and he continued to fight on towards the camp.
With another swing, he splattered the brains of a stocky orc-like Darkspawn and he crushed the ribcage of a taller one by striking its chest. Arrows and bolts continued to fly from the Wardens, their accuracy was surprisingly remarkable for throughout most of the Old World, no civilized battlefield commander worth his salt would ever allow ranged troops into places where close combat engagements took place, even if they did have reserves in place! A mighty war cry echoed from nearby and it was enough to give the Paladin pause for in it, he heard a name…
'ULRIC!' savagely roared Albrecht Krieger as his hammer smashed into the face of another monster and he delivered a sharp kick that knocked one beast away, giving him time for another swing. 'ULRIC!' he roared again as he killed and killed more of the monsters.
Despite his advanced years, the Warrior Priest, whose senses had been overtaken by a berserk rage to match that of a Northman, ignored all pain and all exhaustion. Kill or be killed was what his world had devolved into and it was something all true followers of the Wolf God would embrace for there was a purity in the strength offered by rage within. Had he time to prepare for the battle, he would have consumed some Weirdroot poultices like those used by the ancient warriors of the Thuringians tribe to further fuel his fury.
Dark, burning blood matted his armour along with pieces of bone and brain-matter as the Warrior Priest combined his battle rage with decades of personal experience in the ways of combat. Crushing the skull of another monster and expertly parrying the great axe of another, his latest attack, one monster which was fully clad in crude armour and a horned helmet, gave him a bestial growl before something heavy slammed into the back of its head. From behind its visors, Albrecht saw its eyes roll up and behind it, he saw, much to his surprise, another human, a warrior clad in a resplendent suit of plate armour.
Quickly, did Albrecht notice the prominent Fleur-de-lys heraldries upon the knight's personage and he instantly realized that this stranger was a Bretonnian. Hardly giving it any other thought for now was not the time, the Warrior Priest turned around to face more of the incoming monsters and he gave a brief glance to the foreign warrior. Despite what differences the peoples of the Empire and Bretonnia had, they were united by their common humanity against the dark things of the Old Night.
Back to back, both men fought, veteran warriors who had faced the forces of darkness on countless battlefields across the Old World, against the savage hordes of the greenskins, the dead that did not rest and the even the foul minions of the Dark Gods. With hammer and mace they smashed aside all resistance, their foes were left broken and bleeding into the snowy ground as more of the beasts assailed them. Some of the creatures they had fought were cut down by arrows and bolts from a nearby band of archers and the Warrior Priest was able to catch a glimpse of four, hooded figures assisting them from atop a hill.
Privately wishing that he had a regiment of State Troops with him instead, the Warrior Priest put his trust and his faith in the Wolf God to see him through this battle. It did not take long before the packs of monsters which had been attacking them began to thin out with those nearest to them now taking a more wary stance while many others instead began going after the archers. Looking to the Bretonnian to see if they should do anything about it, he saw that the knight's gaze was focused upon the hill as well.
A mighty explosion was then heard from the hill and Albrecht gave a quick glance to see several burning bodies tumbling down the hill. Briefly, he saw the glints of blades being drawn from the archers and the Warrior Priest hoped that they could take care of themselves until then. Returning his attention to the still cautious creatures that surrounded them, the Warrior Priest snarled at them from underneath his mask and he let loose another loud, wolf-like howl, a last cry to honour his god before returning to the grim task of butchery at hand.
