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Strange Tides

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So the first few turns were to get familiar with the system - and to see whether Hyphria survives?
 
I think the bandwagon was too hasty in gunning for the wide stretch of land. We dont really need it right now and we're already arguably overstretched, with 0 defensive buildings to boot...

We better erect the pallisade next turn, the big one. GM hints have been pretty clear that raiders will soon target us.
 
Due to holidays and some real-life interruptions, the next update will be delayed a bit. I do hope that I find the time and muse to write on boxing day.
 
Merry Christmas, everyone!

Edit: Isn't it funny that Argurios was introduced as a diplomacy unit, but now he's essentially a Military-specialized hero?
 
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Part XXII: The Bitterness of Songs
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    • The Bitterness of Songs ​

    When this all had begun, Argurios was all but brimming with excitement. Not only would he lead the army of Hyphyria again, but he would be more then just their Strategos. He would be their hero, ordained by Hephaestus himself, clad in bronze finer than any mortal hand could ever make. Not just to claim land for the city, not to strike down barbaroi, but to give battle to a monster sprung from myth and legend, a glorious task of which there would be stories told and songs sung forever.

    Yet reality was a cruel mistress, and now it was not with exhilaration but with dread that he faced his officers. Three men had come into the tent he had pitched on the small hill of the valley in which Isidoros wished to built his quarry. Six it should have been. Of the archers, they had lost so many that no one with the right skills for promotion was left. Just one man was now commanding the whole unit, yet there were barely more soldiers under his command than it was custom. And the spearmen hardly fared any better. Scarce a day passed without a patrol missing a member when it returned. Sometimes whole patrols vanished. But what was truly troubling was that not one body had been found. None of the strange decayed carcasses had been left in the woods this time.

    As he looked over the motley bunch that was his remaining officers, Argurios could see the fear in their eyes. None had spoken of retreat, expecting him to slay the monster this time. Again and again, he reassured them that he would. Again and again, he had let them down. For no matter how many patrols she took, how many men she lured into the woods never to be seen again, the Red Woman did not dare face him. He had returned to the valley where they had fought the first time, had journeyed alone through the forests that saw so many disappear to lure her out, yet nothing. In his desperation, he had even ventured out without the gear that the Great Smith had given him, shouting obscenities through the trees, but she had never come.

    It was a disaster, pure and simple. Slowly, his army was torn apart while he could only watch.

    ***​

    The rain was coming down in heavy sheets, soaking cold, weighing down body and soul until it seemed as though the sun was only a memory of another world, only a dream of home. Turios' thoughts turned to sunlit groves and fat grape bunches hanging on the vine, to the soft sound of pipes over the hills now lost as surely to him as though he had passed into Hades' shadowy realm. When had the melody passed from the ears of memory to those of flesh? Turios wondered distantly, hjs feet already straying from the path. Was that a woman's from slipping in and out between the trees?

    "What the fuck are you looking at?" the harsh voice of his commander crashed against his senses like a wave upon a rocky shore.

    Turios could not answer... did not know how to answer, perhaps did not even recall the tongues of men, for all he could hear was the song, then understanding washed over him. A cold sweat washed over him for the briefest moment.. The rain was unbearably loud like hammer blows in his head.

    The solder blinked up at the woods owlishly, some nameless dread receding into the corners of his mind. "Nothing sir, it was nothing," he said automatically.

    That night Turios vanished without a trace, leaving his spear behind to glint impotently among the weeds. He was neither the first nor the last. One by one they passed through the trees, the lost children of Orchomenos snared by poisoned dreams.

    ***​

    The order came the very next day, too late for Turios though not his companions. The army would withdraw to high ground and await the foe rather than let her weave her unclean spells through the trees. By now they were so wearied of blood and death that the word 'retreat' did not weigh upon the warriors hearts as much as the thought of safety buoyed them. Thus were they arrayed, the sons of Hyphyria, upon a tall hill crowned in the charred remnants of some ancient fire. Some took it for a sign that the ouranioi, the gods and spirits of the heavens, were with them others waited in grim silence, their faith in divine providence all but spent during the long bloody hunt.

    Alas that the darkness did not relent, but seemed to taunt them as a cat did a wounded mouse. Each night, the lookouts would claim to have seen movement among the trees. The shapes of men were moving in the dark, like restless specters. Some even said that they glimpsed the faces of their lost comrades. With scorn were these words met, as often are the sayings that would prove prophetic at the last.

    On the eighth day, they came. Garbed in dirty armor, their gait stiff and listless, but yet they walked. Thorny wines ran over their bodies and what began as a trickle soon became a torrent. They all came. The lost soldiers emerged from the forest, taking on a mockery of a Greek formation at the foot of the hill. And just as Argurios stepped to the edges of the camp, the terrified lookouts right behind him, she showed herself.

    Four soldiers, still bearing the armor of officers, carrying a throne made from twisted wood and bones. On top of it, in flowing robes of darkest red, she sat and watched over the damned souls she had bound forever to her will.

    No, not forever, thought Argurios, for he was bold even in the face of such malice. He would end Her and in so doing free the souls of the men who had followed him to pass into the halls of Hades.

    And it seemed that he was not alone in this resolve. Around him, the remaining soldiers under his command had rallied. It was not an orderly battle-line that they had formed, but they had come none the less. If they were ready to face the horrors that had begun to march upon them, he did not know, but stand they would. Order after order he barked, trying to straighten out the spearmen's formations and getting the archers lined up behind them. It was not perfect, but it would have to do. And as the dead were almost upon them, he raised his spear into the air for all to see. The lines grew quiet, only the feet of the dead making any sound and thus all heard what he had to tell them. "For Hyphyria! For Hepheastus! Charge!"

    On came the dead, a scuttling twitching swarm, like puppets pulled forward on tangled strings heralded not by horn blasts or war cries, but by the sound of weeping and begging forgiveness for the ruin they would inflict upon their comrades. Few along them bore weapons, though little did they seem to need them. As the lines crashed together the damned fought with inhuman strength biting and gnawing, scratching and tearing as they pushed themselves through the wall of spears much o the horror of the Greeks.

    They would not die, the young strategos of Hyphyria realized with horror even as his spear pierced another unbeating heart. Not quick enough. Another wave of the dead were enveloping them on the south side of the hill, ready to strike the spearmen in the side to crush them... No, he could hear the cries of the archers dying as they were swarmed...

    Cut off the head and the body would wither, Argurios faintly remembered his father telling him once. He had been speaking of fighting northern barbaroi, for the wild men were fierce but undisciplined. How much more true would that be of this abominable host, only driven by the monster at its heart? So he killed and killed and killed those already dead until at last he reached the dreadful throne.

    The voices of his officers his former comrades begging him to end their torment cut at the young warrior deeper than any blade ever could. Again the spear of Hephaestus thrust forward shattering a knee. Thus did the throne collapse and from its ruin the Red Woman rose at last to face him in battle.

    Unlike her sorrowful puppets the dreadful thing moved with inhuman grace like a dancer moving to the music of red ruin, like death itself risen up from the depths to reap the lives of mortal men, but her foe was not only a man. Girdled was he in the armor of his god, and driven by the wrath of Hyphyria at the desecration of her sons. Thus they traded blows again and again, ebony claws sparking off blessed bronze, pale thorn-bound limbs dancing away from the path of the Warrior's spear.

    The battle around them seemed to still as the dead swept back to allow their mistress free reign upon the field and the Greeks stood aside from the duel none dared meddle in. Yet still they cheered "Hephaestus! Hyphyria! Argurios!" with fierce and ragged hope and the heart of the Startegos was lightened at the words.

    "Prideful fool!" the Red Woman hissed in her ruined voice. "Do you not see that you have given so many onto me? Are you still deaf to all save unearned praise?"

    At these words Argurios quailed, for he heard the truth beneath the inhuman loathing. His motions slowed a hairsbreadth, a misstep in the dance of war.

    Jagged claws dug into his cheek, blood spurting hot mingling with tears. Yet they were not tears of pain but sorrow, and in that sorrow he found strength. In the hollow calls of the dead begging for forgiveness for release he found the will to fight and fight he did, taken beyond himself as though the very wings of the furies bore him.

    "They are not for you to judge!"

    The spear pierced the monster's side, black blood spurning from it.

    "Their flesh is not for you to use!"

    The broad blade shattered the Red Woman's shoulder with a sound like dry kindling breaking.

    "They do not belong to you!"

    The Blade forged of Hephaestus and wielded in righteous wrath by a child of Hyphyria sank beneath the monster's ribs and pierced her heart. As the body collapsed upon the spear it felt heavy as though poured of lead, almost wrenching the weapon from his grasp

    "Hurts... hurts..."     the voice was small confused, almost childlike, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere.

    For the briefest instant a shadow seemed to pass before the face of the sun, then it was over. The dead collapsed to their knees, then rested their heads upon the ground, finally at peace.

    It was over, Argurios had won in a grand duel sure to be remembered in story and song. Why then did the tears not stop? he wondered.

    Archer Unit Destroyed; Infantry Unit at Half Strength

    What do you do with the remains of the Red Woman?

    [] Sacrifice them upon the altar of a god, lest her curse linger within
    -[] Write in which

    [] Try to carve some item of power from them
    -[] Write in what

    [] Bury them where they fell as part of a memorial for the fallen

    OOC: Sending troops to fight the monster may not have been the best idea but at least you did not loose too many bronze weapons.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Sacrifice them upon the altar of a god, least her curse linger within
    -[X] Hephaestus. By his gifts she was brought low, to his furnace her remains.
     
    [X] Sacrifice them upon the altar of a god, least her curse linger within
    -[X] Hephaestus. By his gifts she was brought low, to his furnace her remains.

    :facepalm:
     
    [X] Sacrifice them upon the altar of a god, least her curse linger within
    -[X] Hephaestus. By his gifts she was brought low, to his furnace her remains.
    -[X] Have it resolved, that at this place, one day a grand memorial will stand, a memory to all fallen before an enemy to all things human.

    Just a little detail, one we'll need to spend some money and time on one day...
    But better have such voted on and decided early on, than forgotten about altogether.
     
    [X] Sacrifice them upon the altar of a god, least her curse linger within
    -[X] Hephaestus. By his gifts she was brought low, to his furnace her remains.
     
    [X] Sacrifice them upon the altar of a god, least her curse linger within
    -[X] Hephaestus. By his gifts she was brought low, to his furnace her remains.
    -[X] Have it resolved, that at this place, one day a grand memorial will stand, a memory to all fallen before an enemy to all things human.
     
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