After watching the mace fell the proud Branthur Nightriver, leader of Clan Nightriver, the feeling of rage, betrayal, shock and fear rose amongst the assembly… I, among them. Apparently I was unable to hide my anger as the New Aldorian representative felt the need to remind me not to make the first strike, to stand down and only defend myself if necessary. The fool… I knew what needed to be done, I knew what it would look like if a human struck first but of course with tension already high I bit my tongue.
The grimward taunted us, offering a chance to surrender or death and while no one knew what would happen if we did surrender everyone had a feeling it wouldn’t end well if you were a colonist… Thankfully no one tested that theory though there were a few that looked tempted to save themselves and as time slowly passed a glimmer of hope was discreetly passed around, a note informing us that Branthur’s Warpack was moving to the settlement. A choice was made within mere moments of receiving this news, we needed to buy time and wait for the warpack to strike to make our escape. Bryech went around seeing who would stay behind to hold the grimward back as those who could not fight fled. I chose to stay behind and stand with the few others that made such choices as well, though as I looked back at those who CHOSE not to… Able bodied, armed, some even armored or capable of using magic.
Self proclaimed Guardians…
Supposed do-gooders Golden Hand…
And many more faces though unrecognizable to me, hiding behind the few brave enough to stay behind.
Pathetic… Cowards all of them!
I will remember their faces, and the faces of those who stood with me as the horns blew and Grimward attacked. Seymour and Voltaire of the Blades of Sol, Vaels of the Broken Blades and the Bryech and Toralf of clan Stormjarl. As soon as the Grimward attacked everything happened so quickly, we had to fall back but we made sure to make them struggle for every inch. Slowly losing people as the fight drew on… First it was Voltaire needing to retreat, then Vaels, Seymour… Then me at the very frequent command of Runeseer Aslaug.
As I turned to retreat I overheard the rage filled battlecries of Toralf ring out. I’ve heard these sort of battlecries before… Usually right before the person flies into a rage to stave off death just long enough to take others out with them. Cursing the Runeseer under my breath I continued my retreat, eventually meeting up with the retreating assembly and was immediately questioned by the ulven accompanying Vaels “Where’s Vaels?”
“What do you mean? He should have arrived before me.” I scanned the group and he was nowhere to be found, and as quickly as I caught up to the group I left to search for Vaels only to come within eyeshot of him being finished off by a Grimward Warrior, the same one who taunted us… Once again I returned to the assembly, unable to face the ulven’s question I prepared myself to face the attackers once more as they drew closer. Taking another look at the cowards who chose not to fight, curse them… If we had more willing to stand and fight no one would have had to die!
As the final clash happened and the remaining assembly fled, I found myself squaring off with the one who announced the coming of the stonetooth. If it was any other situation I would have thrown myself at her in an effort to cut her down but my primary goal was to hold and buy time so I just held and made sure to keep her spear at bay until finally it was my time to flee.
I left that battle angry… I am still angry as I carve my way to Clan Stormjarl now in hopes of offering aid.