Winning Vote:
[X] Plan: Escort for the Runelord
-[X] Rear: 40 Quarrelers, 40 Longbeards
-[X] Right: 200 Miners, 60 Longbeards and 40 quarrelers.
NOTE: Battle Turns have moved to a d50 system, modifiers unchanged.
You snarl, hammer lashing out and pulping a gibbering horror.
(Snorri vs. The Greedy One and tzeentchies: 49 +30[Real Angry Old Grumbler] =79 vs. 34 +30[Greed Unbound] +5[Horde of distractions] =69]
You've been whittling away at the bastards horde of beasties even as you duel the enormous Troll. Your continued success clearly further enrages the beast if its guttural roar of hate is any indication.
You see its feathered arm pulse and bulge with blue light, energy travelling into its hand, forming another spell.
You tap your amulet while you pull off a devastating shoulder charge that breaks the back of the Horror you'd spun around with an earlier hammer blow. The pulsing energy fizzles out and dies, much to the anger of the Wizard in question.
That's right beastie, you won't let it pull its mischief uncontested.
(Roll, the Front: 10 +10[Old Grumblers] +15[Reinforced] =35 vs. 12 +10[Fading Surge] =22)
(Roll, the Rear: 32 +15[Inspiring Runelord] +5[A Few Old Grumblers] =52 vs 45 +10[Demonic Strength =55)
It had more important things to worry about.
Like keeping its head on its shoulders.
"What do you think you're doing? Think you can bother those Dwarfs while I'm right here? Arrogant, then again trolls were always the stupid sort, so maybe its a bit of your nature shining through?"
It only roars in frustration, before lifting its brass blade and bringing it down on you.
(Roll, Snorri vs. The Greedy One and tzeentchies Round 2: 20 +30[Real Angry Old Grumbler] =50 vs 1 +30[Greed Unbound] +5[Horde of distractions] =36)
Only to land on a group of horrors, killing the lot of them as you deftly moved aside and swung out with your axe, slicing through the dwarf made steel and into the flesh. The spray of blue arterial blood making your instincts scream to dodge. You follow your gut, dodging out of the way of the liquid and watch dispassionately as the droplets hit the ground and freeze it solid.
Of course, it had frozen blood, couldn't even have the traditional weakness of a troll, could it?
Bah.
You swing again, The Master Rune of Conduction on your hammer heating the metal to a vibrant yellow right as it connects with a diving screamer, the familiar scent of cooked pig filling the air.
Now they've ruined roast boar for you.
Absolutely shameful.
You deftly move to shutter yet another spell the demon is casting in its tracks as you move to another group of Horrors to slay. You could do this all day, but if those beardlings could hurry it up you'd greatly appreciate getting this horde of eldritch gnats off your back so you could focus on the portal maker.
(Roll, The Front 2: 17 +10[Old Grumblers] +15[Reinforced] =42 vs 8 +5[Faltering numbers] =13)
(Roll, The Rear 2: 48 +15[Inspiring Runelord] +5[A Few Old Grumblers] =68 vs 38 +10[Demonic Strength] =48)
Bah, you suppose you'll have to do this yourself.
Typical really, you snort before getting ready to strike at the beast again by breaking out of this ring of Horrors that trapped you.
(Roll, Snorri vs. The Greedy One and tzeentchies Round 3: 37 +30[Real Angry Old Grumbler] =67 vs 48 +30[Greed Unbound] +5[Horde of distractions] =83)
Only to have the wind knocked out of your lungs by a wicked backhand that pulped the horrors entirely.
"I, will.
Break you, Runelorrrrd," it mutters darkly, "I will make your treasures my
own, and
claim what is mine!" it finishes in a scream.
Your only response is to spit a glob of blood on the ground, heft your axe heavenward and cast a Rune of Wrath and Ruin aimed atop the hill.
Didn't even get your teeth jostled by that hit.
Shameful.
You note with clinical interest that the portals have only grown, seeing two more than the last time you checked.
The longer this lasted, the more trouble the throng faced.
(Roll, The Rear 3: 43 +15[Inspiring Runelord] +5[A Few Old Grumblers] +15[Arriving Frontlines]=68 vs 38 +10[Mo' portals mo' demons] =48)
With a grunt, you kick off the earth, the Rune of Impact flaring brightly as turns you into a living projectile of Gromril and Death aimed at the portals, erasing daemons as you dash through.
The beast, realizing your aim, moves to intercept, arm blurring as it swings its massive weapon where it believes you'll be. A crash and squelch as the weapon impacts the earth, sending rock and bits of unfortunate Horror flying in all directions.
(Roll, Snorri vs. The Greedy One and tzeentchies Round 4: 47 +30[Real Angry Old Grumbler] =77 vs 22 +30[Greed Unbound] +5[Horde of distractions] =57)
It succeeds in slowing you down at least, the oncoming mass of its brass blade forcing you to leap over and land squarely in a group of horrors, screamers and flamers overhead. With a cast of your runes, the alchemical fire is consumed as soon as it leaves the flamers' mouths, feeding into the shield that surrounds you as you butcher your way through the horde. The sheer number of bodies slowing you down.
"You did not think. It would be so
easy? My
possessions cannot be destroyed so easily."
"You own
nothing beastie, and when the throng arrives, nothing will be in the way of me killing you
myself," you taunt back.
It roars back at you, arm raised before bringing its blade down at you again, uncaring of the minions in the way. You charge through a Horror, the gore sliding off the shield of energy around you and dodge out of the way of the blade that does more to hurt the enemy than it does you.
You watch as more portals appear, spewing out more and more daemons of ever more variety.
You can only hope the throng holds long enough for you to see the work done.
(Roll, The Rear 4: 41 +15[Inspiring Runelord] +5[A Few Old Grumblers] +15[Daring Charge]=76 vs 8 +15[A Growing horde] =23)
Frustration builds in your gut, every moment you spend not destroying those portals is yet one more daemon sent out to kill the Throng, to kill your fellow dwarfs, to kill beardlings barely a month past their 30th winter,
children in all but name.
A roar escapes your mouth as you charge.
(Roll, Snorri vs. The Greedy One and tzeentchies Round 5: 12 +30[Real Angry Old Grumbler] +5[Protective Elder] =47 vs 49 +30[Greed Unbound] +5[Horde of distractions] =84)
A Horror, half-dead, grabs your leg as you run past slowing down your charge just enough for yet more of the creatures to pile on. Your axe and hammer blur about, pulping handfuls of the creatures, but more and more pile on, smothering you. They do no damage to you, enshrouded as you are in your protective bubble, but they
do distract you.
The beast, seeing an opportunity casts a spell that will doubtlessly bring ruin to the Throng below, does so. Its arm flaring with the familiar hue of wretched magic.
(Roll, free spell?: 2 +25[Chaos is thick here] =27]
You are only a hair's breadth too slow to activate the siphon, the spell manages to go through but your efforts drain it of the majority of its power.
You are distracted, but that is no excuse for a Runelord to do
nothing.
Hammer and Axe move like lightning, your body moving thanks to sheer will and the might of the runes that adorn you. The morass of chittering bodies is cloying, the sounds of outside grow faint.
(Roll, The Rear 5: 36 +15[Inspiring Runelord] +10[Old Grumblers] +10[Unbroken Momentum]=71 vs 1 +20[An enormous horde] +5[Weakened Spell] =26)
Then you hear it, at the very edges of your ability to listen, so quiet that you think it is an illusion for a moment.
"Khazukan, Kazakit-HA!"
You grin.
The beast screams.
(Roll, Snorri and the Throng vs. The Greedy One and tzeentchies Round 6: 25 +30[Real Angry Old Grumbler] +5[Protective Elder] +10[Arriving Dwarfs]=70 vs 7 +30[Greed Unbound] +5[Horde of distractions] =42)
A shaft of light appears to your right as a daemon is bodily thrown off of you, followed by yet more and more of its kin then, at last, the sight of a beaten, bruised but living Thane Otrek Ironarm.
"Rhunrikki! We apologize for taking so long, a bit of a troll problem you see, " he says with a grin.
You snort as you are pulled up.
"Deal with these gnats and their hives will you? The big one is
mine, you beardlings don't have the experience to handle it," you say after dusting yourself off and grabbing your weapons from the hands of a nearby beardling.
"Of course Rhunrikki," Thane says, bowing quickly before running off with a bellowing war cry on his lips.
You look at the troll who dared desecrate the honoured dead, dared assault and kill innocent dwarfs,
dared to claim all of your people's work as its own.
Dared. To. Make. Orphans. Out. Of. One. Child. Too. Many.
"GREEDY ONE!" you bellow, drawing the attention of the monstrous troll with its preferred name.
"NO MORE TRICKS, NO MORE BODIES TO HIDE BEHIND. TODAY. YOU. DIE!" You roar, the runes on your armour flaring brighter than they ever have. Your momentum is tremendous as you run towards the bastard axe raised.
The beast loses its sword arm in a shower of blue blood. Unable to block your charge in time, it screams in pain and rage.
"NO!
NO! NO! I WILL NOT BE DENIED WHAT IS MINE BY RIGHTS. NOT BY THESE DWARFS, AND NOT BY YOU RUNELORD!" it screams, fel light suffusing its body.
"
More," it says, arm regenerating at an alarming speed as it turns to face you fully.
"MORE." it repeats, three more arms sprouting out of its back, each pulling a weapon out of the sack on its back. Limbs swinging with unholy strength, forcing you to dodge backwards.
"MORE! ALL OF IT IS MINE!" it screams to the heavens, with a crushing motion its sack empties as weapons are pulled out by unseen forces, raised around it in a halo of slowly rotating axes and hammers.
The Greedy One has become the Endless Avarice.
Your mouth is set into a grim line.
(Roll, Snorri Vs.The Covetous Desire: 24 +30[Real Angry Old Grumbler] +5[Protective Elder] +10[Arriving Dwarfs] =69 vs 21 + 45[Ascending Terror] =66)
8
You charge, heedless of the terror inducing sight. Your hammer and axe match the furious barrage of projectiles and earth sundering strikes. Your armour takes blows that could crumple a dwarf five times over with nary a dent. The creature is obviously adjusting to its new form, and you don't intend to let it stand there and croon over its new power. Around your duelling forms, the Throng cuts a bloody swathe through the enemy horde, slowly but surely pushing towards the portals so that the few surviving runesmiths can shut down the blasted things.
"All that build up and you can't even deal with a crotchety old man can you? All hot air, no
substance to you," you say clicking your tongue disapprovingly.
"I WILL REND YOU FROM HURK-" it begins before being cut off.
"-BAH! GET SOME NEW MATERIAL." You shout back, hammer hitting it square in the chest over its heart, the impact ejecting the organ out of its body and through its spine with a sickening pop.
To its credit, the beast only screams harder, flesh reknitting in seconds as crackling energy pours out of its body.
(Roll, Snorri Vs. The Growing Hunger: 21 +30[Real Angry Old Grumbler] +5[Protective Elder] +10[Arriving Dwarfs] =66 vs. 48 +50[Drawing
More] =98)
7
You note that the shield that has so far kept you safe is flickering, you dare glance up and note the creature has spawned yet more arms, this time of the gangly variety, each firing lances of multicoloured light at you and the surrounding dwarfs.
The glance costs you.
A hammer blow that, despite the efforts of your armour, you can feel break ribs as it sends you flying through the air.
Your mind is foggy, your vision blurred from what is no doubt a concussion and obscured by the rocks on top of you. Despite it all, you still see the beast act.
Still see it kill.
You struggle helplessly.
You see the beast, now free to act without you sapping its spells or take up its attention, make its way through the ranks of the Throng. Sweeps of its blade and lances of burning energy bisecting and vaporizing Longbeard and Beardling alike. You watch as some brave dwarfs desperately rally and charge the beast, trying to draw its attention, only to be cut down like wheat to the sickle. Your warning proving true time and time again as the front line begins to crumble under the combined assault. The creature's arms tear their bodies apart and rip the armour off their corpses, stuffing it into that contemptuous sack still hanging from its back. Their weapons taken up and used against their still-living comrades.
No.
You feel your body raise itself out of the rubble,
will doing what flesh can no longer manage. A group of Longbeards make a desperate stand, buying enough time for a young runesmith to close a portal before all of them are killed with nary a thought.
NO.
Breathing is difficult, your arm grabs about blindly until it finds your axe. You watch it lift a dwarf with its hand and toss it at a band of miners, the impact and screams echo with frightening clarity in your mind.
NOT AGAIN.
You tap the rune. Your axe burns, almost as if your indignation is shared by the metal.
NO MORE FAILURE.
The weight of the mountains makes the creature pause, eyes searching for the source until it sees you.
You.
In your Gromril Armor, the breastplate bent inwards in the shape of a fist, blood dripping down your face and bubbling at your lips as you breathe through the pain of broken ribs. You lift your axe, pointing in his direction then slowly move it across your neck.
A silent taunt, because you don't think you can speak without coughing up blood.
It screeches in hate.
The both of you charge at the other, heedless of anything else.
(Snorri Vs Trollpus: 38 +50[No More Failure] =88 Vs 7 +55[Unending Growth] =62)
6
The rune of impact is a strange thing. It is meant to improve the speed of a charging dwarf, pushing energy into the legs and amplifying the effective mass of the wearer. That rune shines brightly, pushing legs that are fueled by indignant fury to higher heights. Turning the considerable mass of a full set of Gromril Plate into a deadly weapon. You step once, twice, three, four, five times before you find yourself behind the staggered beast. Two bloody stumps where its legs ripped were away by the force of your charge, even as the flesh reknits with unnatural and terrifying speed.
The creature pushes itself up with two of its arms and snarls as it turns-
-to see your bloody visage, axe aimed for its neck, a look of rage on your face. If it had looked harder it would see the Rune of Impact on your armour had gone dark, reserves spent.
Desperately it blocks, losing five arms to slow down the momentum of your swing, then loses five more as its shoulder is carbonized by the heat of your hammer as it strikes true.
It charges a spell.
You sever the hands casting it, the magical feedback of the miscast being eaten by your glowing amulet.
It forces more power into its body, unnatural light glowing behind its eyes, limbs regenerating faster but more disfigured than what was there before.
You simply destroy them faster. Your hammer and axe leaving a trail of dismembered and slowly disintegrating limbs in the wake of your push.
For all that it regrows the damage you do, you still hurt it faster than it can regenerate. Slowly, but surely pushing it towards one of the many chasms to the west of the hill. With the beast now preoccupied once more, the Throng rallies one final time, their hearts soaring at the sight of you fighting and
winning against the daemon.
(Roll, Snorri Vs. Trollpus 2: 14 +50[No More Failure] =64 Vs 46 + 50[Growth stymied] =96)
5
As if sensing defeat, the troll roars, forcing more magick into its body, pushing it farther and farther beyond its mortal limits. You can see the tears in its form now, multicoloured light bubbling beneath like a cauldron of the foulest brew. This second wind forces you to slow almost to a halt, the exchange slowly coming back to the troll's favour. Its guttural cry growing more and more grotesque as stolen power bloats its body.
You snarl.
(Roll, Snorri Vs. Trollpus 3: 9 +50[No More Failure] =59 Vs 10 + 55[Growth stymied] -5[Mounting Unreality] =60)
4
With more effort, pushing your old bones and weary muscles to move through the sheer force of will only an enraged Longbeard can bring to bear. But it is not
enough, you can only match the empowered beast blow for blow now. Your push towards the gas venting chasms stopped in its entirety. The sight of quarrels piercing its flesh, dealing only cosmetic damage reminds you that you cannot stop. The Throng is counting on you, for none are able to truly deal with the beast in a meaningful manner save you.
(Roll, Snorri Vs. Trollpus 4: 39 +50[No More Failure] =89 Vs 44 + 60[Growth Unending] -10[Corrosive Power] =94)
3
For all your effort, for all your skill, you begin to be forced back. The former Greedy One is beginning to grow even beyond your rage-fueled power to push back.
What does anyone do in the face of defeat?
What does a man do when they stare down at their efforts and see it fall short?
You don't know.
You know what a dwarf does though.
Stare their doom in the eye and grapple it off the cliff with it.
(Roll, 5: 4 +50 =54 Vs 33 +65[Ceaseless Consumption] -15[Tearing Apart] =83)
2
Your arm is broken by a hammer blow, the Gromril failing.
You swing it anyway.
Your leg is broken by a lance of eldritch light.
You stand regardless.
Your jaw is broken by a blow from a fallen Longbeard's hammer.
You spit in the troll's eye. Causing the creature to roar in hate, its form bulging and twisting with unnatural energy.
Your Cloak Burns, sensing a daemon.
(Roll, 6: 6 +50 +10[Daemonward] =66 Vs 33 +70[MORE. MORE POWER] -20[More than Mortal limits] =83)
1
(Roll, Ascendance 1d50: 3)
The daemon laughs, a guttural sound made up of thousands of voices.
"You have
FAILED. Runelord! YOUR BODY IS BROKEN, YOUR WEAPONS USELESS, WHEN I BREAK YOUR WILL, I WILL KILL YOUR KIN AND SUNDER YOUR HOLD FROM EXISTENCE! I-" the beast stops, eyes growing wide. The cracks all over its body, pulsating with chaotic light, grow brighter and brighter until you can barely see.
"
NO. NO! IT IS MINE. BY RIGHTS IT IS MINE! MINE AND MINE ALONE!" it babbles incoherently, arms doing their best to close the forming cracks on its body. Its form begins to balloon out, energy and souls swirling in a chaotic cacophony that threatens to tear it apart from the inside.
Despite your state, you find it in yourself to snort. A calm fills your mind, the memory of golden plaits, and warm green eyes crinkled in mirth at the forefront of your mind.
I'm coming love.
You stand a bit straighter.
Just one last thing to do.
(Roll, One last gasp: 40)
You will your body forward, dropping your axe and hammer to the ground with a quiet crunch as they fall into the snow. You watch the would-be daemon, its form bulging and twisting as the energies and souls it has consumed begin to push out of its body. The sight of faces pressed against its flesh struggling to be let out would disgust you, had you the energy to feel anything but the all-encompassing calm you currently feel.
With one last, all-mighty effort, you charge, head down.
Your helm gores the Troll, pinning it to you as its flesh grows around the intrusions into its torso.
You run, pushing the engored body back.
The beast digs in its heels.
You push regardless, the distance between the two of you and the chasm closing by meters.
It rains hammer blows down on your back, the bone-crushing force stunted by your glowing cloak and Gromril armour into simple bruises and cracks.
You push regardless, another meter.
It rains lances of energy down on you, but your amulet still functions, drawing in the energy and forming a shield around you.
You push regardless.
When at last you reach the cliff's edge, your relentless charge ceaselessly pushing it back despite its weakening efforts does the beast scream in hate, grabbing at you weakly as it slides off the cliff, body more akin to a great ball of multicoloured lights shining through flaking flesh.
Its arms find no purchase in your armour, slipping off gracelessly. It grabs at the cloak, but the fabric simply tears in its claws. It grasps at your helmet, but it simply flies off your head as the beast falls to its doom.
You slump bonelessly at the chasm's edge, smiling serenely and wait.
One.
Two.
Thre-
- a great flash of light, magic and superheated gas erupts in an explosion of stone, hot air, and steam; sending you flying, and tearing a great crater in the earth.
BATTLE END. THE UNENDING AVARICE HAS BEEN SLAIN.
Gain:
-
GRUDGE AVENGED.
- Literal tonnes of Trollparts.
- +1 Standing, +50 favours with Kraka Drakk, new totals: 8 Standing, 70 favours. Standing gain(if any) for others will propagate over the course of turns as news spreads.
-
[Tier 5]The Greedy One's Heart: Popped out of its body by a swift hammer blow from Snorri Gift Giver. The heart beats endlessly even when it has long since run out of blood, a piece of something from when it still was mortal. A fragment of a troll that was.
-
Legendary Deed: The Greed Slayer
At the Battle of the Dragon's Maw, Snorri Klausson slew an innumerable horde of daemons and Trolls. Alone he faced the army, rallying dwarfs and holding back the tide. Single-Handedly fighting their master, a fel troll of titanic size who had grown strong from consuming enumerable daemons, The Greedy One. Longbeards speak of that titanic clash, worthy of the greatest sagas, as Snorri and the Troll clashed at the top of Trollbane Hill,
the Runelord's relentless assault pushing the beast down the slope and eventually over a chasm into the superheated gas vents below. The resulting explosion created a crater large enough to swallow a hold.
Traits Gained:
- Trollbane: Trolls will fear you and your works, the echoes of your deed filling their minds with terror.
The terrible ruination you dealt upon the trolls this day marks your presence both in history and the metaphysical realm.
- Winds Dispersed: All Enemy Spells will suffer -15 automatically if Snorri takes the field.
The power of your amulet and your continuous use of it throughout the battle has imparted a part of itself to you, turning your natural immunity to magic into a tangible effect that can cripple enemy casters.
- +5 to [Really Old Grumbler] modifier, new Total: 25
AN: I wanted to keep my oath and get this out before midnight. As always, C&C and thank you for reading :^) Edits to the front page and your traits tomorrow. Now I sleep.
