The Dragon and the Pitchfork 2 is an encounter in Blood of Heroes.
Enemies[]
- Royal Cavalryman (4550 Gold, 560 XP, 350 Energy, 3 HP)
- Royal Cavalry Mage (5200 Gold, 640 XP, 400 Energy, 3 HP)
Transcript[]
Introduction[]
"Let's see you fly, gold dragon!" Edwin roared.
He hefted the soldier above his head, grasped by throat and groin, and hurled him from the battlements. The warrior flew and flailed. Then he plummeted down into the tide of gleaming helmets and purple tabards below.
"Who's next?" he demanded.
A halberd chopped at his neck. He caught the shaft, yanked, and pivoted. The soldier's grip and balance weren't equal to the wrestler's. He crashed against the crenellated stone, leaving the weapon in Edwin's grasp. A thrust from its butt smashed the man's teeth down his throat. A jab from its spiked head took him through the eye.
Edwin spun round and chopped the halberd's blade into another soldier's face as it popped up over the wall. The woman flew backwards, launched from life and ladder in the same instant. He leaned over the wall and thrust the weapon downwards -- warding off the next climber. His strong grappler's hand seized the wooden ladder and pushed it away from the wall. Men and women screamed as they tried to jump clear. Some screamed again when they hit the ground or their comrades below. Edwin could have sworn that one man's leg snapped so loud he heard it up on the wall.
"You!" the wrestler said. He pointed at a reckless fire mage who was standing on a crenellation, tossing fireballs at the fleeing royal casters below. "Stop playing and burn the ladders!"
"Oh..." The mage's eyes gleamed.
His next fireballs burst amongst the scrambling soldiers, burning wood and cloth and flesh. The stench and shrieks of roasting meat made Edwin grimace. He looked away from the burning carnage, and his eyes widened.
"Look!"
This time he pointed into the distance -- past the soldiers scurrying amidst the flames and chaos below, to where more white, purple, and gold garbed soldiers waited. Their neat formations were wheeling round to face a new threat.
"They came!" Edwin's powerful torso shuddered with his laughter. "Just like he said they would!"
He ran off to tell the demagogue.
Captain Ranlatta grabbed a confused herald by his tabard and pulled him so close that her helmet tapped against his.
"Go tell the general! Now!"
He nodded. She pushed him to start him on his way. He stumbled before catching himself and breaking into a fast, loping run. The captain swore and turned back to the absurd scene.
"Down with Crenus!"
"Down with the goldies!"
"Roderick! Roderick! Roderick!"
"Death to tyrants!"
The peasant horde seemed to shout from more tongues than they had fingers on the hands. Hundreds and hundreds of angry cries rained down on the cordon of befuddled soldiers.
Gods... Where had these idiots come from?
Ranlatta pushed her way through the purple tabards and mail shirts, until she stood at the front of the line.
As of yet the civilians were some yards away -- content with brandishing their weapons (most of them farming tools or crude, makeshift things) and voicing their outrage. The captain prayed she could stop them from coming any closer.
"Charge them! Come on!" a hefty woman at the forefront of the mob said. She was wearing an apron of all things, and clutching a sword so rusty it resembled a length of sausage rather than a weapon of war. She strode out from the safety of her fellows like an ancient hero issuing a challenge. "For Roderick and freedom!"
"Roderick and freedom!" echoed countless voices.
"Someone shoot her!" a sergeant hissed.
Ranlatta's head snapped round.
"No!" she said. "If anyone fires without my order, I'll have his colors and his balls!"
The peasant woman was turning around now, waving her arms at the mob as though attempting to take flight. The captain groaned. She had to put a stop to this...
Ranlatta strode into the no man's land between the orderly battle line and the disarrayed mass of humanity.
"All of you, go home," the captain said. "If you leave now, we'll forget your faces."
"We won't forget yours, you ugly cow!" the woman in the apron said.
She waved her ridiculous sword above her head and plodded towards Ranlatta. Behind the captain, dozens of halberds rose.
"No! No!" Ranlatta said. "Lower your weapons! Lower them!"
The rusty sword lashed at her head. Ranlatta batted the woman's arm aside and shoved her chest with an open palm. The woman stumbled backwards and fell onto her rear. Her sword hit the ground and broke in two.
"All of you, disperse! Do you idiots want to make orphans of your children? Go, before the general gets here. I'll tell him that-"
Something flew into the corner of her vision. Ranlatta turned to it, and the rock smashed her in the face. The impact turned her around. She staggered towards her horrified comrades, hands clasped to her bloody mouth.
Some of the bowmen were raising their weapons. Arrows began to pull against strings. They were looking at her, waiting.
"Don't..." she spluttered. Crimson spurted and drowned the word. "...shoot!"
"Shoot!" an archer yelled. "Shoot!"
"No!" Ranlatta cried. "No!"
But the arrows flew.
Conclusion[]
"The bastards!" The demagogue's eyes burned and shimmered, watery infernos. "The cowardly bastards!"
In the distance, a wave of halberdiers charged men and women armed with farm tools, cleavers, and a scattering of cheap weapons. Some just jostled and pushed -- trying to drive the civilians away. But others brought lethal steel to bear. Rows of purple tabards were breaking away from the walls and migrating to join the chaotic melee.
"Open the gates!" Roderick said. "Get to the courtyard and open them!"
"There are soldiers at the gates!" someone said. "They'll get inside!"
"Then we'll kill them! Our brothers and sisters need us!"