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 Ranik
panik
Hawkmoon - 11 Dec 2005
“At last! Some real
action!” Sanskirt was practically bouncing as the group made their way up
the last slope toward the entrance to Fort Ranik.
“I
think I’d trade the action for a pair of boots, or even sandals,” Arty
grimaced. He stopped to lift one bare foot and massage his heel. “The soil
of Ascalon isn’t exactly soft and smooth, you know.” Vex
took the opportunity to sit on a convenient boulder, yawning as she stretched
her back. She looked startled at the series of loud popping sounds the movement
provoked. “Yikes! Never knew it did that!...Anyway, you never really appreciate
the little things till they’re gone, eh?” Angela,
a new recruit sent by SoulFlayer to bolster the Realms Beyond ranks, scrunched
up her nose as she examined her dirty feet. “What was our fearless leader
thinking of, anyway? How am I going to uphold my reputation as a fashion diva
if I’m not allowed to wear fashion? I could have displayed at least six different
– and stunning – dresses by now! That would have woken up those lazy
Ascalons!” Arty
had to stifle a smirk as Sanskirt, standing behind Angela, twirled a forefinger
around her right ear. The monk was irrepressible. Now she began shooing them all
into motion. “Well, Angela, the sooner we complete our mission, the sooner
SoulFlayer will reward us! I’m sure he’ll have two dozen dresses all
waiting for you, positively covered with diamonds, rubies, and the like!” “You
really think so?!” Angela looked like a child eyeing a monumental sweet through
a shopfront window. Arty wondered if she would start drooling. “Absolutely!
Now, no time like the present for action! Come on, everyone! Remember, we’re
finally getting the respect we deserve! Let’s not blow it by dawdling.”
And this time the monk did bounce as she led the team across the bridge into Fort
Ranik. ************ The
Fort was bustling with activity, if little accomplishment. Arty saw large groups
of armed adventurers of every description, just milling around, drinking, talking,
dancing, doing business with the merchant. “Why
is everyone just standing around? Why aren’t they outside, fighting the Charr?”
Arty was so surprised he stopped dead in his tracks, so suddenly that Angela,
following on his heels, ran into him with an “oof!” Vex’s
face settled into that grim expression that meant trouble brewing. “Let’s
find out, shall we? I’m sure Lord Darrin will be most informative.”
She rose on her tiptoes, scanning for the Fort Ranik leader. “Aha! There
he is!” She set off at a brisk walk, glaring people out of her way. Arty
and the others fell into step beside her. They must have presented an imposing
(or ludicrous, Arty thought) sight as they bore down on Lord Darrin, because fully
armored warriors stumbled backwards to open a path for them. Darrin
welcomed them with a broad smile and hearty handshakes all around. “So you’re
the “unlikely heroes” of Piken Square! Tydus sent a message that he’d
ordered you here to help us out.” He looked them all up and down. “Well,
I can’t say that I’d choose to go up against the Charr in my underclothes,
but I won’t deny that you’ve been effective, whatever Barradin thinks.
Whoops, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.” He harrrrrumphed! in the
back of his throat. “And
what else did Duke Barradin have to say about us?” Vex purred in a low, throaty
tone. Arty cringed mentally; the last thing they needed was to have a fight between
the Ascalon lords and the Realms Beyond guild blow up. Sanskirt
evidently saw the warning signs as well, because she broke in abruptly, stepping
in front of Vex. “Never mind what Duke Barradin thinks. The point is that
we did lift the siege of Piken Square, and we’re here now to help.”
She stepped firmly on Vex’s foot, causing the latter to shut her mouth with
a snap. “We and Dwayna, of course.” She attempted to look down her nose
at Darrin, failing miserably since she was about a foot shorter than the warrior.
“Why have your citizens here not taken the fight to the Charr? Why do they
dishonor the gods by allowing the defilement of their land?” Vex
broke in. “In other words, why are we here? Why do you need us to…do…whatever
it is that…you need doing…?” she finished lamely. Darrin
motioned them into the gatehouse. “Let’s talk in here, where there are
fewer ears.” He shut the door behind them, barring it firmly. He turned to
face them, all seriousness now. “You’ve figured out that there’s
something rotten in Ascalon. You’ve probably realized that it’s the
gambling culture. But what you may not realize is that the rot goes all the way
to the top. Yes, I mean King Adelbern himself.” He shook his head sadly.
“The old king isn’t what he used to be. I don’t think that he believes
that we can win against the Charr, but he’s too old to try to make a start
somewhere else. And he’s just vain enough to hold back his son’s best
efforts, even though those might just be what Ascalon needs. No, Adelbern would
prefer to preside over the slow slide through decay into oblivion, drowning his
sorrows, and awareness, it seems, with drink and gambling on the outcome of combat
matches. So I don’t get the troops I really need, and what does get sent
down here are more interested in preening to each other, looting what they can
of Ascalon’s remaining riches, until they find or win enough to go someplace
better.” He eyed them piercingly. “You’re about my last remaining
hope. Somehow you’ve managed to keep from getting entangled in the corruption,
and you’ve actually given us some much-needed victories. So give me one more.
I know there are still brave Ascalon soldiers out there in hiding from the Charr
patrols. Go out and find them, and if you can get the siege engines working again,
I bet you and the soldiers can push the Charr back, and at least give us some
breathing room. Maybe that will turn the tide of despair and wake Adelbern up
to his responsibilities.” A
long silence ensued. Arty finally found his voice. “Thank you for being so
honest with us, Lord Darrin. I and my comrades,” he looked to the others,
saw firm agreement in their eyes, “will do our best.” “Faith
is our armor and shield, our sword against Evil,” Sanskirt intoned. “The
gods will that it be done.” Darrin
nodded somberly. “May it be so. But are you sure you don’t want any
armor, just to be on the safe side?” ************* At
first the mission seemed to be going well enough. They had found some stray Ascalon
swordsmen, captained by Armin Saberlin, and had fought off several groups of Charr.
Agreed at least a dozen times that, Yes, they knew they weren’t wearing any
armor, or clothes for that matter. Slowly they made their way through the deserted
fortifications, the three guild members providing the magical artillery and support
that prevented the skirmishes from turning into routs. Sanskirt was doing her
best to heal at a rate that outpaced the wounds the Ascalons were taking; most
of them seemed to have adopted a recklessness that bordered on the suicidal. At
a huge shattered gate in one of the main walls, Master Saberlin called a halt.
“We’ve picked up nearly a platoon of men in our progress, enough to
defend this gate. I see that as my most pressing duty, for this is where the Charr
must pass to come against the walls of Fort Ranik. I am sorry, my friends, but
I and my men can go no further with you. Mayhap you’ll find other Ascalons
in the wastes beyond this wall, and they may assist you. And one other thing I
must ask of you…” Saberlin swallowed hard and blinked back tears. “My
son, Deeter, was last seen somewhere out there. I don’t know why I let him
join the ranks, he was much too young…But that’s neither here nor there.”
He straightened, spoke firmly, “If you find him…alive…send him
back to me, won’t you?” “Of
course,” Vex answered. “We’ll find him. And those who took him
will pay.” She stroked the neck of the big cat that had followed her from
Ascalon City. The feline, whom Vex had decided to call “Miss July” for
reasons Arty couldn’t fathom, growled menacingly. Saberlin
nodded and stepped back, clearing the way for them to pass through the gate. “May
the gods favor you.” ************* On
our own again. Typical. Arty thought as they made their way cautiously through
a veritable canyon of debris. Whether Darrin realizes it or not, the “gambling
corruption” has infected all Ascalonian thinking – let’s not risk
our own lives, let’s just pay someone else to risk theirs! They’ll never
kick the Charr out with that attitude. He
dragged his mind back to the present. Vex and Miss July were scouting ahead. Angela
was trudging along beside him, despondently regarding the coating of grime on
her hands. Sanskirt brought up the rear, eyes scanning for ambushes. Vex
raised her hand, signaling a halt. She made her way silently back to the others
and whispered, “There are four Charr just around that next corner –
two warriors and two spellcasters - and I overheard them say that they’re
looking forward to a ‘special dinner’ tonight that their shamans are
cooking. Can you guess what that might be?” At the others’ looks of
incomprehension, she continued, “It’s fresh meat, and the only fresh
meat left in these lands is Ascalonian soldier. We’ve got some rescuing to
do, that’s what!” Arty
murmured, “First things first. Take out the group ahead, then find the prisoner.
Or prisoners.” He shuddered. Vex
nodded. “Here’s what we’ll do…” She squatted, drawing
a rough map in the dirt to show the Charr positions, efficiently calling the order
of battle so that each one knew what to do. “Okay, let’s get them!” As
they moved to their places, the familiar tightness settled in Arty’s stomach.
He crouched behind a boulder, readying himself to call fire down from the sky
as soon as the moment was right. Vex padded down the path to within bowshot; in
a single smooth motion she drew and let fly. Arty grinned fiercely as a moment
later he heard a roar of pain. Then time for reflection ceased, and he gave himself
over to the endless moment of incantation, mind focused and hands moving deftly
in one spell after another. He was dimly aware of Angela across from him, likewise
sending destruction winging to smash the Charr. Their Firestorms hit the monsters
nearly simultaneously, lighting fur and leaving smouldering holes in thick hide.
As the beasts panicked, running every which way, Vex and Sanskirt nimbly dispatched
them, arrows and sword quickly ending misery, though not the awful stench that
lingered over the scene of carnage. Arty
slowly became aware that he was bleeding. Rather badly, in fact, from a gash across
his ribs. As realization set in, he sat down hard in the middle of the path. How
had he gotten here? Sanskirt
rushed up to him, eyes wide with concern. “When are you going to stop thinking
you’re a warrior? You’re more effective if you stay out of harm’s
way!” She pursed her lips as she examined the wound. “I should let this
heal on its own. That way maybe you’d actually learn to stay away from the
monsters. Just kidding,” she added, when he looked about to faint. “I’ll
fix it, I’ll fix it!. Just hold still a moment.” She closed her eyes,
murmuring a prayer, and ran her fingers lightly over the lips of the wound. Arty
felt an all-too-familiar tickling sensation as the healing took hold, knitting
the flesh together as if it had never been injured. When am I going to remember
to stay back? Why do I always forget my surroundings when I’m casting spells? His
rueful musings were interrupted by Vex, who announced that she had found Charr
tracks that she hoped would lead them to the prisoner’s location. Once Sanskirt
had performed another minor feat of healing (Angela complained that speed-casting
always gave her chapped lips), the team resumed the search. Luck, and Vex’s
tracking skills, served them well – peering over the crest of a low hill,
they spied a wooden cage holding a small human, guarded by only two Charr shamans. The
team readied themselves for battle, and fell upon the unsuspecting Charr. It was
a longer fight than they expected, since the beasts healed each other nearly as
fast as they could be struck with weapon or magic, but finally the humans prevailed.
Arty wrestled the crude wooden gate on the cage open, and what had to be Deeter
Saberlin emerged. He was indeed too young to be soldiering, Arty thought. He can’t
be more than thirteen. Deeter
was a skinny lad in an iron cap and mail shirt that were both too big for him.
He presented an almost comical figure, with the hauberk hanging nearly to his
knees. “Gosh, thanks for rescuing me from the Charr! They were about to cook
me!” His voice broke on that last, and Arty couldn’t blame him. Terrifying
enough for anyone, let alone a boy! Vex
soothed him, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Your father wanted us
to look for you. He’s waiting for you just on the other side of the big gate
in the wall. You know it?” “Y-yes.
I know where you’re talking about. Can we go now? Can you take me to him?”
Deeter sniffled, wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Our
mission still lies ahead. But we’ve cleared out all the Charr between here
and the gate. You can make it easily. Remember, you’re a soldier of Ascalon.”
Arty nearly hated himself for putting in that last. But it had to be done. They
couldn’t spare the time to take the boy back. And in any case, it had the
desired effect. Deeter
squared his shoulders, stood up straighter. “You’re right. I am a soldier.
I will report to my father. I know the way.” He saluted, turned, and marched
away, back toward Fort Ranik. ************* “Now
comes the hard part,” Vex grunted. Surveying
the scene before them, Arty was forced to agree. Everything up till now was easy,
compared to battling the Charr army in front of them. The horde seemed endless,
stretching from the hills just behind them all the way to the Great Northern Wall,
a mile or more distant. “Remember
what the Lord Darrin told us: make use of the siege engines.” Sanskirt sounded
improbably cheerful. “The gods will provide.” Vex
frowned. “Hmmmmmmm…it might just work, at that. Look, there’s a
small group between us and that nearest trebuchet…if we can take them out,
we should be able to get to the engine and see if we can fix it…All right,
standard battle plan, except that Arty actually stays back this time…Ready,
go!” Perhaps
the gods really were with them. The enemy fell quickly to their combined magic,
archery, and fierce attacks of sword and tooth (“Good Miss July!” Vex
told her “pet”). Then they got the biggest surprise of all. A human
crawled out of the wreckage of the trebuchet; evidently he had been hiding there
for days. He introduced himself as Siegemaster Lornar, warmly shaking hands with
them all. Arty had to hold his breath then; the man stunk so badly it was a wonder
the Charr hadn’t found him from the smell alone! Aromatic
or not, Lornar lifted all their spirits when he told them he could repair the
trebuchet if they could just bring him a few spare parts. And again their luck
held; the required pieces were quickly found in the wreckage of nearby catapults. “Excellent!”
the Siegemaster exclaimed, tightening the last fastening on the huge siege engine.
“She’ll fire now, oh yes she will, she’ll drop flaming destruction
right on their flaming Charr heads!” He patted the machine fondly. “Now
I’m going to just see what else I can rustle up in the way of mechanized
death to the beasts, and let you have at the Charr with my little beauty here.”
He quickly explained the loading and firing process; satisfied they understood
what to do, he moved off toward other wrecked trebuchets, humming to himself. “I
think we ought to follow his advice, and use ‘his little beauty’ to
equalize the numbers here.” Vex nodded at Sanskirt, “As you said, the
gods provide. Arty, you’re going to work the trebuchet. That way, you’ll
have to stay out of the fighting.” Seething
inwardly, Arty watched as the others made their way toward one of the larger mobs
of Charr. The plan was simple; Lornar had told them the range of the siege engine,
and they had worked out where the missile should fall, so Vex, Sanskirt and Angela
were going to lure the Charr to that spot. Simple, in theory. Maybe hard to get
the timing right. Arty fretted, trying to figure out how long it would take for
the shot to arrive, and therefore when he should pull the release lever. He
loaded the heavy stone into the sling and used an incantation to set it burning.
Then he grasped the release lever and watched intently for his teammates to appear
on the path to the killing zone. Any moment now…There! There they are! They’re
running hard…By Balthazar, there must be a hundred Charr following them!
Have to time it right…I think…NOW! He yanked the lever and the massive
counterweight swung downward, whipping the long throwing arm up and forward. The
sling released the flaming missile at the top of its arc, and Arty glanced quickly
back and forth between the graceful flight of the stone and the deadly race between
his friends and the Charr horde. Almost there, it’s almost there, and…they’re
not through! NO! Oh, NO!! Arty could only watch helplessly as a massive explosion
erupted out on the plain. He bit his lip, willing his friends to have made it
out of the danger zone in time. But
when the smoke cleared, he saw that his worst fears were realized. Well, maybe
not his worst fears. All the Charr were dead. But so were his three friends. He
could see their bodies, lying on the ground almost, but not quite, out of the
blast zone. I
killed them. I KILLED my friends! Grief threatened to overwhelm him. But before
tears could rise and blur his vision, he seemed to hear Sanskirt’s voice:
“Have you learned nothing from me? We have not truly fled – yet. There
is still time, but hurry.” A
vision of what he had to do crystallized in Arty’s mind. Of course! Had he
not himself been called back from death by Sanskirt? He thanked all the gods he
knew that he had taken the time to memorize the incantation that would cheat death
for one – only one – of his friends. The magic was not truly what he
was comfortable with; the knowledge of its phrases would flee as soon as he pronounced
them, and he would have to painstakingly re-learn them the next day. Nonetheless,
it would save them today. Quickly
but stealthily he made his way to Sanskirt’s body, and spoke the spell over
her. He watched in amazement as the burns all over her body faded away, to be
replaced by smooth unmarked skin. As he pronounced the last syllable, she opened
her eyes. “Took
you long enough!” She levered herself up on one elbow. “Oh, what a load
of extra work you make for me!” But she winked at him, and Arty felt a rush
of gratitude that she was not going to grind him down over his mistake. Sanskirt
truly has the favor of the gods, Arty thought. Within minutes she had brought
Vex and Angela back to life; neither had so much as a scratch (“But I broke
a nail!” Angela complained), but plenty to say to Arty. “Don’t
you EVER do that again! Of all the lame-brained stunts! Couldn’t you see
that we weren’t going that fast? Next time, Angela works the siege engine,
and we put you in the front rank, Arty!” Vex was hopping mad, shouting so
that Arty was surprised that she didn’t bring the remainder of the Charr
down on their heads from the noise alone. The
remainder of the mission was spent in strained silence broken only by the most
terse of battle orders. True to her word, Vex put Angela in charge of a working
trebuchet that they found close to the Wall. And Angela proved to be a good shot,
repeatedly pulverizing Charr that fell for the trap that Vex set for them. At
least she didn’t make good on her threat to put me in front! Arty was concentrating
on casting fiery flares into the midst of the Charr, and calling down Firestorms
to wreak more widespread havoc, but this time he kept part of his mind on where
he was. He was especially careful not to stray into the killing zone. They’d
probably leave me there, he thought glumly. And I’m not sure I’d blame
them. At
last, it was over. The trebuchets had decimated the Charr, and the comrades made
the final rush up the slope to the Wall, easily dispatching the Charr leader and
his minions they found there. What a poor leader, staying way back in the rear
where he couldn’t see what was going on, Arty thought. Hmmm, isn’t that
what Adelbern is doing? ************* “Well
done, my friends! Well done indeed!” Darrin was profuse in his praise. “My
faith in you was well-placed.” His eyes twinkled, “No matter what your
attire! You are truly Heroes of Ascalon!” Arty
felt himself blush from the roots of his hair all the way down to his toes. He
wondered if it actually showed. He glanced surreptitiously at his comrades to
see if they were blushing as well, but couldn’t detect any embarrassment
in them. They seemed to like the attention! Women! His
attention was recaptured by what Darrin was saying: “…Prince Rurik himself
has asked for your aid. You are to meet him in the ruins of Surmia.” Arty
caught Sanskirt’s eyes. They shared a look that clearly captured the essence
of the moment: No good deed goes unpunished. | 
