The Great Ones, Part One: Under Siege
This is apart of the first installment of 'The Great Ones', a Camp Willow plot. The introduction can be found here.
Setting:
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
<----> Camp Willow - North-East Entrance <---->
Bushes and trees slowly transfer into tall willows and reeds, covering your vision
and streaching far above any beast's height. Tree branches and leaves still hang
down, enclosing here in a small woven 'basket' of leaves and twigs.
Before the trail curves into some sort of Camp, there's a burly otter standing guard
with a long and thick javelin. The weapon the creature is holding is about as tall as
him, around 7 footpaw lengths. This entrance is not an easy one to get through,
though otters and other woodlanders pass to and fro, disappearing into the patterns of reeds.
Characters:
Trinket, a guard
Hallow, the Skipper
Raisa, a cook
Jake, a resident
Kolbjorn, the Viking chief
Esgyrn, a fisher
Rincair, a Viking
Aldak, a trainer
Chud, a scout
Liask, a guard
==
<----> Part One: The Siege <---->
==
As word of the attack down river spread, the tension settled over Camp Willow: smothering the rowdy atmosphere like a blanket over a flame. The doubled guard-force patrol snarls and leers at every disturbance in and out of camp - but how does one prepare for an enemy they know nothing about? How does one combat a force which, by witness testimony, is driven by demons themselves? Striking in the night and wiping everything out of existence with cold, brutal, efficiency? Collectively, the camp grows more anxious each time the sun sinks behind the horizon - and it's getting close to night time.
Trinket is one of those posted at the Northeast entrance, and leans heavily on his spear. The one-eyed sea otter squints into the failing daylight, breaking the silence to turn his head and spit to the ground.
The report of attacks was alarming and Hallow did not like taking chances when they were so close. She'd quietly sent around the word for every fighting beast to keep their weapon handy, she didn't want to cause a panic but a little unrest was worth being prepared in case. She'd turned doubled the guard but couldn't help patrolling around the camp herself as the night started to fall, there was no chance of her settling for the night without seeing everything was quiet for herself.
Jake is walking along a path inside the camp as walking when one is nervous seems to help. He knows some fighting but he is not the best fighter there is to know.
Raisa is walking along with her older brother Konnor. "Thanks for helping me gather some watercress before it started getting dark I think it shall make a good salad for dinner tonight." Her brother, Konnor grins, "Ya just too worried, I am sure things be fine sis ya go on and get that ta to de kitchens" She smiles and heads on further inside.
It's always here, in this failing light, that it starts. Out beyond the reeds, where it's hard to see, the world suddenly goes a little quieter. The Camp is full of doughty fighters, but there are shadows on every side, long and looming, and the knowledge that they are the only ones who are here to defend it. This is driven home when, out of the darkness, there is a noise: a distant, loud /CRACK/ like splitting wood. And then again, closer: /CRACK!/ If one listens closely they can hear the sound split into a chorus of noises. Crack, crack, crack, it goes, faster and faster, and it is joined by the hooting chants of hundreds of voices, suddenly rising up in a long, sustained shout. It's getting closer, and the noise is definitely clustered right here, at the northeast entrance.
Gaze flicking towards the Skipper as she passes nearby, Trinket dips his head. "Skip." He growls, rolling massive shoulders beneath his tunic. "Quiet ni -" His casual comment dies in his throat as the chorus of pounding, cracking, and chanting rents the stillness of the night in two. The sea otter's eye narrows, and his grip tightens about his spear. "Guess tha's tha', then." He rumbles, side-stepping to tuck his large form amongst the reeds.
Jake hears the sounds also and looks around as he pulls out his dirk, just in case it's needed and seems to decide the slingshot and rocks would be best. He stays close to one of the trees along the path into camp.
Words have travel quickly on water of something big and bad. They've drawn Esgyrn from the river, and the nervous air surrounding the northeastern entrance of the camp has drawn her further still. She's no fighter; just a fisher; so when she tries to coax acknowledgement from a guard, she's surprised to instead be answered by the air itself with a sudden *CRACK*. Her head spins round and she spots Trinket, a familiar face, and she quickly tucks in behind him. "What's going /on/?" she loudly whispers.
Konnor still smiles, but the smile fades some when he hears a cracking sound getting louder and louder. He looks to where his sister when and turns back towards the river carefully as he is very alert now.
Hallow returns the greeting nod to Trinket and is about to say something too when the noise gets loud enough for even her fairly ancient ears to pick up on it "Shh!" she quickly hushes and waves a paw, trying to encourage others to get down and get hidden. She does place a paw on to one of the other guard's shoulder though to get their attention "Rouse the camp, quick" she says quietly as she too retreats to the reeds a bit while the guard runs off. She would rather see who's making noise before they seem them but still her paw does automatically check her sword to see it will draw easily and she does pull her bow from her shoulder just in case.
All of a sudden, the noises stop. They seem to have halted about a hundred yards away, out of the range of torches and eyes in this light. The twilight has turned to gloom. The silence gathers as otters rush this way and that, and then a new noise: buzzing and hissing on the air. Arrows! Dozens and dozens of them, falling like rain centered directly on the northeast entrance. Then, moments later, it comes again, a heavy barrage of iron-tipped points searching for otters in the reeds. Then they come: a whole line of glinting steel and vicious devices on large shields being beat upon by axes and spears: Crack, crack, crack! Kolbjorn marches at the center of the shield wall, dressed in the armor and trappings of his people: heavy furs, thick leather, chain mail, a round shield with a demon's face painted on the front, and a helmet with long metal cheek flaps and plates that cover his face. The eyeholes are ringed with gold, making them seem to flash and burn in the torchlight. They're brazenly walking straight at the otters, a hundred strong at least.
Jake gasps softly, one of the arrows just barely missed him as it hits beside the tree. He sneaks a peek the tree and his eyes go wide at the number of vermin coming towards camp "This...surely not good..."
Raisa is further into the camp so she has yet to know what is going on as she lays aside salad greens. It’s not till a nervous dibbun comes in crying and muttering something about strange noises and how he now wants mama, she has no clue where his mom is and frowns, "Noises?" She debates on leaving the kitchen cabin or not.
"Careful, Lady Pebbles." Trinket grunts as the smaller otter maid ducks in behind him. He never got her real name - or was too drunk to remember it. But, then, he immediately twists his body at the familiar sound of an arrow's deadly 'hsssst', trying to shield her with broad shoulders. "Ge'down!" It's only by the pure grace of the darkness and the cover that he isn't skewered - his shield rests on the ground where he was standing. He is loathe to leave the ottermaid there, and waves his paws at her, back towards the interior of camp, mouthing 'go!' and slinks towards it, keeping to the reeds.
Esgyrn's eyes grow big and wide and glassy as the stench of an army catches the river's breeze, but the realization of their intent only strikes when the flurry of arrows rain down in the reeds. She shrinks into the rustling grasses, apparently too frightened to heed Trinket. Her paws instinctively clutch at her pouch and sling-belt.
Konnor watches the vermin closely from where he is, not too close yet but he keeps an eye on them and what the guards will do.
Kolbjorn shows no fear as they advance, moving like a creature hell-bent to his purpose. He doesn't look perturbed by the sight of otters, or anything else that might be in their way. He's here to do what he has to do. He raises his axe in the air, and a last volley of arrows comes down, followed quickly by a great maelstrom of spears and throwing axes. And then the shield wall picks up speed, aiming to crash right through anyone in their way, and trample underfoot anyone who happens to be there.
Jake gulps, yeah he s backing up quickly and out of range of those sharp objects that's raining down upon the camp now. Maybe he should warn others of what is here in fact, that may be a better idea than staying to close to the action.
Hallow's hearing is not what it used to be and when the noise stops at first she strains, her ears perking to check she's not just missing something. She does in fact completely miss the sound of the arrows but Trinket's warning is enough to make her instinctively duck but it's not until she sees arrows rain from the sky she knows why and is very glad they didn't hang around to provide a target to shoot at when several land just feet away "Go!" she yells for the benefit of anyone foolish enough to stick around and she quickly weaves her way through the reeds as the second volley of arrows rains down. She chances a quick peek up above the reeds seconds later though and even returns an arrow of her own before ducking down once more quickly and immediately moving away from the main camp, trying to draw attention away. The moving though is particularly good idea as they start throwing even more things.
Well, getting into the camp seems surprisingly easy for the attackers. Very few otters seem to be making a stand right at the gate, and the raiders smash into whoever remains, ruthlessly chopping with axes and stabbing with spears. Return fire lands with heavy thuds upon the shields of the Northmen, their anger spent on thick wood and metal bosses. Kolbjorn blinks as Hallow's arrow crashes into his shield rim, just above his neck. They are clustered tight - perhaps some defenders may yet cut around to the sides or behind, but... they are so many, and a few even trail behind as a screening force for just such an idea. As they hack their way into the gate, and the defenders don't seem ready or able to meet them, Kolbjorn glances over his shoulder and raises his axe, crying out, and from the dark a single burning arrow arcs overhead, and lands in the middle of the camp. It's a signal, but to what and who?
Konnor watches the burning arrow and raises an eyebrow, he loads his sling and swings a couple pebbles out towards the vermin. His sister comes out and tries to drag him further into camp to which he pushes her back "Just go..go!"
Raisa frowns but does as hr older brother says and quickly rushes on further into camp, she even helps a couple scared dibbuns who got separated from their mother and goes to duck into one of the cabins.
Snatching his shield from the ground, Trinket spins around in time to smash himself into an attacker. He surges forward, jamming his spear into the throng with a shout before twisting into the reeds and back to Esgyrn. "GO!" He thunders, hiding himself among the vegetation as chaos breaks out. If the guards weren't roused before, they certainly should be now. The clatter of return fire adds to the din their new houseguests are making. With a shout, the otter drives into them, trying to buy time as their own beasts rally.
When the signal is given, a wordless shout rises coldly on the night sky as a second force of the armored, well-armed raiders comes charging through the bushes, reeds, and willow fronds towards the camp, Rincair at their head. The massive marten's legs pound the earth like small trees as he hurtles forward, roaring his fury to the skies. Wrapped legs hurtle through the reeds, their edges scratching against the rough fabric as the smaller band swings in to hit the defenders from the side.
As the phalanx descends and the single flaming arrow bores down upon the camp, a moment of clarity is brought to Esgyrn by Trinket's sudden roar. But instead of retreating toward inner camp, the otter uses the ground's natural incline toward water to quickly fall back and away from the towering troops. She's little match for a sword with her sling, but in response to it all, she dares to feed it stones, bravely sending them at any gap in their march, at any paws or eyes or knees she can see.
Konnor drops the sling and quickly gets a very lucky shot in as he elbows a tall rat and knocks them out. He borrows the rat's sword and goes to slice at a weasel that gets too close to him. He uses a sort of zig-zag pattern to avoid a couple stabs with spears.
It is only here, at the very entrance to the Camp, that they are starting to face stiff resistance. Kolbjorn should have figured. Some otters crash into the shield wall, and stop up certain parts - Trinket is now right in the thick of it, unable to disengage or fall back without risking getting stabbed in the back. Angry vermin and spurts of blood fill his vision as they try to shove him down, poking over the top of his shield with spear points and screaming foreign curses. Whoever else tries to hit them head-on is locked in a life or death struggle, grappling with many angry raiders at once - but opening enough gaps for beasts like Esgyrn to score lucky shots. Over the crack of sword and shield is the snap of bone and cries of pain and anger as slingstones come down hard. The shield wall wavers and shifts like a tidal wave, expanding out as if to swallow up anyone who is on their own - anyone like Konnor, who is swamped by five or six vermin at once, who go for his legs with spears, and then axes and swords at his head.
Jake is not much of a fighter, when he seen how many were coming he ran. Yes, he can fight maybe a small group of say.... 3-4, but clearly not this many.
The tall reeds make for good cover, and the otters have the home-field advantage, even as they are attacked from two sides. Hiding amongst the vegetation, they strike from multiple directions. Outnumbered, but they have an advantage which goes further than strength or armor: just as the Vikings were bred in the North, they were bred of the river. They are used to the harsh currents and the changing seasons, the twisting and turning course of the River Moss. In times of drought, in times of flood - they have been here. And they have no intention of leaving. The Camp is peppered with hidden paths, and as the guards truly rally their defenses they seem to fly from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
Trinket, among them, roars - charging forward with his spear. He ducks beneath a swipe, parries another against the flat of his shield, and stabs forward. The iron tip sliding between mail and armor, piercing the soft and tender organs they strive to protect. "Careful, lass!" He roars, spinning low to the ground and sweeping along it with the end of his spear, stabbing what falls. Struggling to slash his way towards Esgyrn, now trapped between two fronts like himself.
Konnor growls as he is hit with a sword, but it's clear he is not going down without a fight. He stabs the borrowed blade into the chest of a weasel just as a fox slices at his arm. The weasel dies and falls to the ground, and Konnor to his knees panting and out of breath, and the blade is still in the dead weasel.
Distant yelling bubbles further in the camp and grows, otters roused from their peaceful evenings, dinners abandoned and bed times forgotten. The word had reached the rest of the camp and while guards from other parts of the camp used their trained skills anyone considered fighting fit was also turning out to defend their home with everything from sword to a lot of fishing harpoons. Without someone giving them orders they were less subtle and thundered through the camp. Where the Vikings were an organized calculated force the general resident otters were a tidal wave of pure fury and chaos, they fought when needed or because they liked to, they weren't guards by trade but farmers, fishers, lumberjacks all manner of beast but most still had a battle or two in their history with the camp. Arrows and sling stones flying at random from anyone who happened to carry the weapon, closer combat fighters charging in together with pike, sword, axes, knives and even a few farming tools. The guards had some order to them, striking and running but without someone telling them otherwise the majority of the camp had little thought for tactics and just charged towards the battle in one big lump.
The shouts and cries of the attack have finally alerted the main body of Camp Willow's defenders. A force of guards and village residents, mostly burly males looking to pick a fight with these vermin raiders, come charging up from the camp, with Aldak among their front ranks despite his age. He's replaced his staff with a spear of similar size, special for the occasion. "Go for their legs!" he shouts, while the majority of the defenders pile on senselessly, his band stabs and slices at their attacker’s feet and shins, trying to take them down under the shields.
"DREPA! DREPA!" Kolbjorn roars above the din as more otters arrive. Yes, /this/ is why he is here. This is why he has come. He boldly steps out of the shield wall to meet the first defender that gets close. A small knot of housecarls goes with him, as the rest of the shield wall spreads out, thinner, but no less dangerous, to cover the ground necessary to fight against so many otters from so many directions. Bodies begin to pile up along the battle line as the Vikings hold their ground, as determined to take the village as the otters to keep it. Kolbjorn will make his stand here - it is Rincair on whom he's depending, to start fires and sow panic. That will turn the battle to them. Kolbjorn turns to Konnor as he hacks a guard down, his eyes mad and his sword already slick with blood. "Ekki nog," he growls, lunging to run the otter through with his sword.
The metal ringing in front of her distracting her from her flank, Esgyrn is left open to new danger as she continues her slide toward lower ground. When the echo of what's behind her rings against the banks, it's nigh too late. She twirls mid-cast to meet a charging vermin, stone striking his snout, breaking his nose - which does little to temper the vermin's rage. She scrambles and falls, soil moist and muddy, but also littered with larger rocks. She grabs one desperately, whipping it forward and by sheer chance it shatters a knee, crippling the beast. The moment gifted allows her to gain purchase; she grabs another similar sized rock and runs back toward Trinket, vermin at her heels. "I - I think we're surrounded!" bleats Lady Pebbles.
And Rincair is more than happy to do so. As the defenders rush towards the shield wall, his band splits off, pushing through the reeds and soggy terrain towards the rest of the camp, where the residents are less eager to join battle and more ripe for the picking.
Konnor faces the leader and goes to try and kick him in the leg, like that would do much damage, He goes to try and stab him with a dagger he finds just as the marten’s blade enters his chest and he coughs up blood, the life light leaves his eyes and he passes on from this world to the dark forest paths.
Hallow employs similar tactics to the guards, strike and run. The odd arrow here and there to delay the attackers until reinforcements can arrive. It's not until the main bulk of the camp appear that she leaves the reeds to join them. The guards can mostly be trusted to hit and run but the rest need guidance "Archers and slingers keep back! Keep their heads down, keep them back! Do not get caught by the spears, keep out of reach!" Yelling order for things she knows they'll be doing wrong without even looking as she runs to join the charging group "Aim for anyone cut off, get them back!"
Surrounded is one way to put it. As Kolbjorn finishes off Konnor, he finds the dagger making a cut into his shoulder, but... the marten just growls, shrugs /further onto/ the blade, and looks into Konnor's eyes, watching the fire leave them. The shield wall begins to wrap like a snake, trying to force the otters who are capable of fighting into a pocket, where the real slaughter will start. Kolbjorn's chosen retainers break off from the shield wall and surge in among the defenders, trying to confuse their formations. Kol's next target are the ones unlucky enough to be near to him: Trinket and Esgyrn.
Hallow's shouting, sadly, only makes her a target: three right-paw warriors of Kolbjorn rush out to meet the Skipper head-on.
"The legs!" Aldak repeats as his warriors join the fight, some with tall, rectangular shields and spears, some with javelins, some with weapons that bear a suspicious resemblance to tools. With a growl, the old otter demonstrates, sweeping his spear out to lash the heels of a pair of raiders in the shield-line, causing one to fall and the other to stumble as the hard pole cracks against his ankles. "Break the wall! Go for their legs!"
"Careful lass - Skip!" Trinket knows the position is not best, and swivels side to side, striking out and battering back those that threaten to overtake the duo. Surging forward, he plants his feet and then /hurls/ his spear, the iron tip bursting through flesh like a fish through water. An iron sword is snatched from one of the fallen vermin to replace it, and he throws himself forward, sweeping low with that sword even as Aldak hollers for it to be done. "Get! RUN!" He is shouting over his shoulder towards the ottermaid, bashing the shield against a hard body at his side.
"Yes, come! All of you!" Kolbjorn and his warriors welcome any who will fight - to fight is the purpose of life. To cling to it with teeth and claw, and let the blood pump and flow freely. The shield wall is no longer static, but marching forward again. They are trying to /herd/ the otters, push them back into the camp, towards the flames, and the screams of their families. Kolbjorn is in the thick of it outside the wall, and then, abruptly, he is behind Esgyrn and Trinket, blood coating his armor, framing those bright golden eyes of his helmet. "Bloth mun mala skjoldinn!" he roars, going straight for Trinket with the tip of his sword, and simply trying to bull aside Esgyrn with the iron boss of his shield.
Esgyrn fumbles to lodge the muddy stone in her sling to improvise a more substantial weapon, stopping shy of Trinket's guard. Her quick paws work to twirl her sling's fabric, securing the weight as she swings it around her fist. "But they're everywhere! I can't!" screams the maid, and as she sees Kolbjorn advancing, all fear takes grip. Her sling slips from her fingers, rock arching predictably past the leader as her face catches the marten's hilt. She falls quick, limp as a ragdoll.
Hallow would be more surprised not to be a target. She's been doing this a very long time, she knows the consequences but it's yell or let everyone go everywhere and hope for the best. Between her orders and Aldak's there is some vague resemblance of sense in the masses as a steady stream of arrows and rocks fly at the enemy and the front beasts start going for feet, not all sweep at them though, some just try to stab them with spears. Hallow is quick to spot the beasts aiming for her and draws her sword, too many of her own around to use her bow in close quarters. She's not as fast as she used to be but some of the mass of otters move out to meet her to swallow her in to the group before the vermin can cut her off.
"Bows and slings stay back!" the old otter shouts, blending into the second line where he can jab with the spear and still give orders. "Fire into the gaps! Break the wall open!" His spear snakes over the shields, seeking and stabbing at the vermin's faces.
"LASS!" Trinket shouts, whirling about and yanking his sword up to meet the marten's, planting himself in front of the ottermaid - smashing forward with his shield. The one eyed otter lunges, trying to batter Kolbjorn's weapon away and crowd in on his defenses. The throngs of guards surrounding the Skipper earn a sigh of relief, but he cannot join them - he is cut off, standing over Esgyrn and pushing back with all of his might.
"Blothugr ragur!" the vermin attacking Hallow shout, falling upon her defenders in a rage. Heavy axes swing hard to stave in skulls, the raiders literally shoving their way bodily through the knot of otters in their bloodlust, eager to be the first to kill the Skipper. One actually trips over the otter he just disemboweled, and pays for it as one of Hallow's fighters jabs him through the eye with a javelin. But the raiders are simply not dying fast enough, and anyone who gets close to try and slice at their legs without the support of many of their fellows are silenced with quick, decisive thrusts.
Kolbjorn falls upon Trinket with a heavy axe, pushing all of his considerable body weight and muscular power down on the otter, bearing them both almost to the ground. Such is his bloodlust the large hob releases his shield and grabs Trinket's own, to /rip/ it away from him. Trinket's blows fall on his helmet, making his ears ring, but through it all, Kolbjorn raises his axe, and brings it down towards Trinket's ribs.
Hallow is practically exhausted already and almost finds a second to breathe when she's safely inside the group. The feeling of safety is short lived though as the vermin attack regardless and she finds herself back on the front line as the group of vermin force their way in and she brings her sword up to block axe swings, otters around her trying to swamp the beasts. Near Trinket the group tries to break through and get closer but more otters fall than vermin. A last ditch attempt of a harpoon, normally thrown at big fish, is tossed over the shield wall at Kolbjorn to try and save the cut off beast when at the back of the group all hell breaks loose with the words "Fire...They're in the camp!" otters breaking off by the dozen, running back towards their homes in a panic where only a small force would have stayed behind to defend, the rest had been too busy charging in to the fight to think.
Shouting as the marten batters into him, Trinket hits the ground with a thump, roaring as he kicks out at Kolbjorn wildly, battering his shield against the side of his head... Even as the axe smashes into his middle. Blood gurgles around his muzzle as his ribs are crushed - but he keeps fighting. Walloping the attacking marten with the pommel of his sword now, seeking to lock his jaws around the side of his face.
The raiders smell blood as the defenders start to route, and only now, now, at the end, the shield wall breaks and the Northmen surge forward, trampling all in their way, hacking down otters in the back as they run, forcing them to choose: stay and die, die with their families, or run like Hellgates is upon them and dash the rest. Kolbjorn feels otter teeth scrape over his helmet as he laughs and laughs into death's face, stabbing Trinket again and again with his dagger. He looks up and sees the harpoon approaching, and with a roar, allows Trinket to become locked in a deadly embrace... and spins. The harpoon sinks into Trinket's back instead, and Kolbjorn is there to see it. Large paws clutch the otter's head, smothering him. "Sal thin er frjals , veikur einn," he snarls into the dying otter's face, and then he wrenches his paws around, snapping his neck cleanly.
The thrower of the harpoon that ultimately lead to Trinket's demise will have to live with that for the rest of his life, unfortunately that's about three minutes before he too is over taken and goes down. Hallow tries to hold on, she too wants to go back and help the families but if this lot gets through they'll have more attackers in the camp "Stay together!" She yells as she blocks another axe swing and growls at the Vikings who were focused on her "Shove off!" she shouts at them, sword slashing their belly open before the shield force charges and she gets knocked down by the shields with the others.
Chud sees the smoke from a distance off in the woods and swears to himself, drawing his dirk and ducking into the brush, trying to find an entrance that hasn't been overrun. /Well, this happened./ He thinks to himself.
Screaming, they surge forward - trying to overcome the Skipper, forcing their superior numbers against the guards, pounding their way further into the village, wrapping around the guards, even as they struggle to bash up against them. Spilling into the woods, some are making their escapes - clutching their dibbuns, helping their neighbors... But still, the enemy comes.
For the first time in all the years Hallow has been in the camp the otters were losing their home. The Skipper fell and the camp seemed set to follow. The more out-numbered they were the more otters ran to try and save what family they could until no one was left fighting, everyone was retreating to their homes, either to run or as a final stand. Getting knocked off her feet by the charge left Hallow and the few who had stayed to fight with her venerable and as the others were cut down Hallow did try to fight back, kicking back at one of the pair who had been focused on her and trying to stab the other with her sword before they can get in a final blow.
Chud slips through a gap in the wall left by the fire, and loads his sling, spotting a straggler amongst the invaders. He sights up, whirls his sling a few times, and whips a rock towards his target. Without waiting to see if it hits, he moves on to another position.
The primal lust for destruction pounds through their veins - the Storm Father has given them this glorious battle, this glorious gift! They plan to take none of it for granted. A young guard tries to throw himself for the Skipper and the beasts who seek to batter her defenses away, just as they tear away at the flesh of their home, striving to gouge the heart and soul from the otter's dwelling. An axe blossoms from the crown of his head, and he hits the ground - twitching. Another force, less bent crazed ransacking and more bent on the glory of downing the Camp's leader, charge for Hallow and her thinning guard. The chaotic clash of steel on wood echoes as the scuffle continues, careening out of control as the savage beasts spread further through the camp, infecting it like a sickness. Chud's stone finds its mark, and manages to catch one of the beasts without a helmet - pinging into his temple and knocking him cold. It was a one in one hundred shot.
Chud gives up on the fight, realizing it's a losing battle overall, and decides to focus on helping the fleeing families that haven't made it out yet. He sprints through cover and into the village, helping carry Dibbuns and elders out.
Beat one and another seems to take its place. The stone hitting one vermin in the head gives at least enough time for one of the guards to pull Hallow back to her feet but barely that much before there's another attacking. Hallow grits her teeth against the feeling of exhaustion, she's old and getting slower by the second but parries a sword, getting close enough to punch the vermin right in the face with a growl.
This was NOT in Liask's job description. Well, technically being a guard did mean he would be called upon to throw himself into danger but who was crazy enough to attack camp willow? NO ONE! That's why he signed up for being a guard in the first place!
The young otter is seen briefly amid the chaos around them, his blade drawn but unstained with blood. Holding onto his hat he drops and slides under the swing of a battle ax before leaping to his feet and fleeing from his own pursuers before disappearing again into the frantic battlefield around them.
They surge and pour through the marsh - some finding difficulty navigating the terrain, one or two finding their demise in their mistakes. Further in the camp, the fires are finding a similar difficulty - the marshland quelling the destruction to some degree. This is their land - and the earth knows it. The guards still surrounding Hallow struggle back against the forces, one young hotshot twisting about to bark at her. "Ge'out! We'll 'old 'em o-URGH!" His voice is cut off as a sword point juts through the front of his throat. Zeroing in on the dishonorable 'guard', Liask finds himself being pursued amidst the chaos; his cowardice marking him.
Hallow can't just leave the camp like this. She's had otters die for her before but she can't just run and leave but nor can she make the other guards stay and they wouldn't leave without her. She returns a swing of the sword to the head back at the Viking who killed the guard before shoving the remaining of her now tiny group "Move, go!" making it as far as the entrance to leave seemed all but impossible even.
The battle is surging into the main camp, where the fighting will be thick, and start to break down. Kolbjorn roars over the battle, rallying his warriors to him - they can't afford to split up until they know for certain the otters are broken. He points his sword straight at Hallow, and then charges with a berserker's scream, his eyes wide and paws still slick with Trinket's blood. Once /that/ one dies, their spirit will wither. He smashes through the nearest guards with ten of his best, coming down hard on the Skipper with a momentous downward swipe of his battle axe.
The Skipper's small group don't get far with their thoughts of escape, Kolbjorn's roar attracts Hallow's attention and when he points their way she stops, she knows what that means. There was no avoiding it so she raises her sword to meet the battle axe but there was no chance against it, between the force behind the axe and her exhaustion there was no match. The axe forces her sword down with enough power to break her wrist before it sends her flying, a giant slice taken out of her in the process. Alive, barely. Bleeding badly, barely conscious. The Skipper was not getting back up again.
The impact of Trinket falling serves to both awaken Esgyrn, and pin Esgyrn to the ground. With all the action beginning to move toward the inner camp, she's left to struggle with the sea otter's weight on her own - whatever trauma she's sustained ignored in favor of getting up, getting out, getting away.
The fallen Skipper isn't alone - and as the Vikings continue to rampage through the entrance and move on into their Main Grounds, a guard limps from behind a crate, rushing to Hallow's side. "Skip!" He cries, blood caked down both sides of his face. "Ski-" And then he realizes that she's breathing. Hefting her as carefully as he can, the guard is off - streaking for the surrounding woods as fast as circumstances allow.
They are here!
Groups:
