Something Wicked this way Comes...

[GiedalCaine]

Doilin waits for an opportunity to speak up, not wanting to intrude on official military matters.

Beggin' yer pardon sir, but have ye had any skirmishes wit' the enemy? Any scouts that have gone missing or any engagements at all? If the bloody things got ahold of anyone who knew anythin' of troop comp'sition, supply lines, hell even the layout of yer camps we may not be looking at a straight on engagement.

They seem to have allies or abilities that could allow them to spring up right from beneath us. At least that's what happened in the city.

[Mr. X]

Ironjaw frowns...

"Come te think of it, I have lost a few... Hardly unexpected when marching into enemy territory... But if'n they learn everythin' a man knows from e'ttin' 'im..."

He sits back grimly, "... Hells..."

He sits forward suddenly, grabbing a quill and paper, and starts scribbling orders furiously...

It's apparent that he's issuing new scouting orders; informing all that the direction of approach shall be shifted southward, out of the mountains, and onto the northern planes, and that the wave of scouts explore this new approach and its surroundings, with others pushing around north to ensure they aren't flanked.

... Looking at the map, the approach he describes is somewhat disturbing... It gives up the high ground, and passes through at least three points where the column could be easily ambushed...

... (Actions?)

[LordDice]

"Can't say I'm really sure about this idea, they're still going to have normal scouting techniques as well as their extra knowledge from eating our own"

"It just seems like we could be caught out rather bad with this new plan....unless you plan to let these orders filter through the ranks until it's common knowledge amongst the enemy, and change plans yet again at the last minute"

[Mr. X]

Ironjaw chuckles, and puts a finger conspiratorially to his nose.

"Heh, now yer catchin' on. Lies an' misinfermation are the meat an' mead o' situations like this."

He sits back.

"T'ain't the first time I've had te deal with my scouts gettin' caught an' questioned... An' fer now, the enemy's method might even be to our advantage...

See, I ain't actually gonna issue orders for the column to change course now, an' when I do, it'll be a late play to err Northwards... 'Till then, the scouts can believe whate're I tell 'em, an the enemy will do the same, as they'll know for sure 'at they ain't bein' lied to..."

He takes a deep breath,

"In the mean time, any scouts as do come back will still have relevant informaition, so we'll stay a step ahead regardless...

He glances at Doilin,

"Providin', of course, that it isn't too late already, an' we have 'em comin' out from under our beds like ye say they did before..."

He shrugs,

"It's a chance we'll have to take."

[Mr. X]

After months of always being on the move, with your very survival often dependent upon your speed and your ability to remain hidden, marching with the Dwarven Army is almost unspeakably dull... Marked by that itching feeling of being naked... With such great numbers, the force is slow, and nigh impossible to hide.

With each step bringing you closer to the once Holy City, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt that, if they have any meaningful scouting force, the enemy knows you're coming... All that remains is to see where they choose to do battle.

With that in mind, you take some solace in the fact that a number of your own scouts have indeed gone missing, their heads filled with Ironjaw's lies... The questing being to wonder if the goblins shall believe the evidence of their own eyes, or that of their own minds...

A steep gamble no matter how you play it.

But the dice have been cast, and with each passing day the tension rises in anticipation of where they might fall...

Spoiler

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More to come tomorrow. Bed is calling me, I'm afraid.

[Mr. X]

On the coming of the appointed day, you crest the last hill, and break free of the tree line overlooking Beluvah... You are not immediately set upon by ravening hordes, and so, for the time being, at least, it appears Ironjaw's ruse has worked.

Your position in the high Northern foothills holds a commanding view over the walls of the Holy City, the smoldering ruins within, and the fields before them.

To the south, you can see the approaching forces of Star Spire. A great host, equal in size to your own, marked by the glittering mail and fluttering banners of the Silver Horsemen, and even the banner of the crowned steed, showing that the Boy King himself rides with the force.

But...

From the West, a great, gaping void of empty fields lie where should be assembled the forces of Great Gate and Timaril... Each alone expected to be near as large as yours and Star Spire's combined...

Perhaps they were delayed...?

But your commanding position gives a good view of the various approaches... If they were even yet a day or two away, you'd be able to see them...

But there is no sign upon the horizon...

[LordDice]

Giving a light nudge to Ironjaw's elbow as they overlook the battlefield "So...this is all some cunning plan where even we didn't get to know their true movements....right ?"

[Mr. X]

Ironjaw's jaw is all but hanging on the ground.
"... If'n it is, nobody told me..."

He picks up his jaw, and tugs agitatedly at his beard.

"Gods, where in the hells are they?! Ye don't just misplace a million bloody swords!"

[LordDice]

"Not to argue the point...but it certainly seems like we have indeed managed it"

"We should send out some fast scouts on their general path, if they were intercepted we might still be able to assist."

"Of course if they just never came, or marched straight for Deep Mote and the Spire in some horrifying piece of treachery. Well, there's not a lot we can do"

[Mr. X]

"Yeah... I'll do just that. In the mean time, you three get your arses over to Star Spire's host, an' see if'n they know any more 'an we do."

[LordDice]

"Aye, I'm sure they'll be nice and happy over there"

Spuring his horse forward with the others they quickly trot on over to the host of the Boy King.

[Mr. X]

Behind you, the Dwarven forces are already beginning to form up, and begin unloading the cannons and setting up fortifications to lay in their camp.

The field between you and the host of Star Spire is wide, and without cover. However there are no enemies in sight, and the walls of Beluvah are yet fairly far off.

As you cross, you can see that Star Spire is likewise organizing their position.

Their camp is being set up on a high rise, the closest thing to high ground the southern planes will provide.

As you approach, a pair of sentries ride out to meet you. At a glance, they are solid soldiering stock, but no one of any significant rank.

"Hail and greetings from the Silver King! What news from Deep Mote?"

[LordDice]

"We've been sent by General Ironjaw with news, can you point us the way to where your command post is being setup ?"

[Mr. X]

The first soldier nods.

"The King has been expecting you. We'll take you to him."

-----------------

You are led into and through the veritable city of tents that is taking shape upon the hilltop.

As you are led past rising tents, cavalry pickets, weapon caches, and ration wagons, you sense an uncertainty in the host, and hear the grumblings of growing uncertainty amongs the men...

... The significance of Timaril and Great Gate's absence is not lost upon them, and there is a certain fear that they may have marched all this way just to be slaughtered... You catch a few snippets of interesting conversation as you pass...

"... An ye' heard what the Dragonborn said, we'll be outnumbered ten te one! An them as was with 'im dinnae seem the sort te be taken lightly..."

Another...

"... Aye, ye may have the right o' it. But the King, fer all 'is youth, has got the right o' it too. They burnt the bloody Seat o' the Gods! If'n we don't stop 'em here, they'll jes keep spreading. They say they'd've taken Sandy Shoal already if not for the Godsent bein' there te stop 'em on the sea."

Another...

"Truth that is, but I'll tell ye, that lot gave me the willies. The Dragonborn stood a bloody head an' shoulders o're Sir Torman, an he's one o' the biggest men I've ever seen. Him an that kid with the sword... I ain't even gonna talk 'bout how mind blowin' that sword was. But the kid was just a little shrimp o' a thing walkin next te the Dragonborn. But I know me way 'round a sword, an' I'll tell ye', I could tell that kid was fast just watchin' 'im walk... An those to weren't nearly strange as the other three... Their prisoner, or some such, was a tribal, plane as day, his head shaved an' tattooed, an bound waist te neck in iron chains, but walkin' around just like 'e was one o' 'em... The older guy was a wizard. Had te be, but hells... He was walkin' around on a foot that was flayed to the bone, coated in gold, and etched in those weird picture they's always writin'. Gave me the horrors just lookin at it... But the little girl was strangest o' all... Seven, eight years old by the look o' 'er... But I didn't get a very good look, all big eyes and wonderin' innocence... But she had a sapphire big as your eye embedded in her forehead, an one sideways glance gave ye the feelin' she has blood on 'er hands..."

--------------

At length you are brought to the Royal Pavillion, and into the presence of the Silver King.

The Boy-King, Claudus Clay II, sits in his throne along side a number of his councilmen, pouring over maps and papers on a long table set before them. Wearing the polished plate of the Silver Horsemen, he is not a tall boy, but thick and well muscled. His hair is golden, beneath his silver crown, and shows signs of receding prematurely. Still, he is a fairly handsome youth, and he carries himself with the rightful certainty that only the 'pure' nobility can... Despite this, as he argues with his council over tactics, terrain features, supply demands, national diplomacies, and gods only know what else, his brow is furrowed, and his features grim and serious...

Whatever else he may be, this is not a boy at play.

As you are brought into the tent, the soldier announces you.

"Your Majesty, the envoy's from Deep Mote."

The Boy King looks up, and silences his council with a gesture.

He stands formally, gives you a cool once-over before he speaks. When he does, you note his voice carries a certain softness, such as only youth can give, and even cracks slightly, as though it has only just recently changed timbre.

"Greetings to you from The Star Spire. I am Claudus Clay II, ruler of the city.

I appreciate your being here, as I had intended our party to be rather larger that it appears to be."

[LordDice]

With a short bow and salute he greets the young King.

"Aye Majesty, we're likewise pleased to see you here. The General is definitely wondering just whereabouts our erstwhile allies in this have ended up.

We did learn some disturbing news about the enemies intelligence gathering abilities which may account for this disappearance. It seems if these infected by this fungus eat someone, they quickly learn everything that person did....

A few quick bites up a gruesome supply line and their command knows exactly what that troops been privvy to intelligence wise, where the scouts are deployed and things of that sort.

Have any of your troops been lost to the enemy yet ? they may know details about your position that could prove disastrous.

And while that is most pressing news, finding out what happened to the rest of this joint army is paramount to General Ironjaw, scouts have been dispached already from our forces but the General would welcome any news you've managed to gather"

[Mr. X]

The Boy King frowns.

"We have indeed lost a number of scouts..."

He pauses seriously for a moment.

"... If what you say about the enemy is true, we will have to adjust our tactics accordingly."

He glances at two of his advisors, both clearly officers of the highest rank, and nods slightly.

The men stand, gathering up sheafs of maps and scouting reports, and take their leave... Presumably to begin immediate work on dealing with this new problem.

Turning back to you, the King states,

"I am afraid I have no word from our absent allies, but it is a long way from Timaril to here, and even further from Great Gate... If they were delayed mid-way on their courses, it is possible that their riders would not reach us until the morrow. I have dispatched riders of my own, but again, I do not expect them to return with any promptness."

He clenches his jaw,

"... It is my great hope that that is all that is amiss.

Regardless, the immediate question is what action we should take during the interim..

We are both of us positioned in sight of the Enemy's walls, and have lost scouts to them. They know we are here, and it won't be long before they know how vulnerable we are, and take action to press their advantage."

He glances back at his council.

"... Many of my advisers would have me sound the retreat, and abandon this cause as lost...

But..."

He chews his lip,

"... The Lords of Timaril are proud, and the King of Great Gate is anxious to take a slight. Both believe they have the strength to defeat the Enemy alone, and on their own terms, and they despise each other. I believe the only reason they agreed to come at all, was to prevent the other from holding the honor of taking the first blood from the enemy.

Should I retreat, both cities shall take offense, and this alliance shall crumble..."

You've got to give it to him, the boy's got strength, but the pressure is clearly starting to mount...

"I have it on reliable authority that the Enemy numbers far in excess of my own host, and even our two combined...

But I intend to hold my ground, at least until word from our allies arrives."

[Barthac]

Pardon me your most vaultedness but if yer plan is to hurl insults from range, Taalkar briefly pauses with an impish grin, well let's just say that we dwarves excel in that area.

He continues on, The Great General Ironjaw has sent scouts along to find some trace of the missing host. A million or so swords don't go lost without some trace. In the meantime, bringing our armies closer together may prove for an easier defense. We dwarves are notorious for building strong defenses in the field and deep mote is better than most dwarf.

[Mr. X]

The Boy King gives a reserved smile, but you can tell that he is pleased.

"If your General is willing to stay the course, I would be most grateful."

He turns back to his table, and returns with a map of the local terrain, and indicates the area where the dwarves are setting up.

"... While the rise your host is positioned upon is ideal, it is not large enough to hold both our armies..."

He indicates his own position.

"... My own position could hold his both, but it is a fair ways away... If you would be willing to join us here, I believe it would be most ideal, though the gap to cross is wide and vulnerable..."

He pauses, before indicating a third location, midway between the two camps...

"... There is a slight rise here, wide enough to hold is both, and facing the right direction... But the ground is not that high, so we'll be giving up some of our advantage..."

He takes a deep breath.

"... In good faith, I will take whichever position your General deems most worthy for his efforts. Let me know his decision with all due haste, as this action would best be accomplished at once."

[LordDice]

Nodding after noting the locastions the young King has motioned towards on the map. "Very well, we shall inform the General and return with an answer promptly"


Inclining his head slightly and a somewhat muttered "By your leave" he grabs steers both his brother and Dolin out the door.

Remounting outside they return at a decent clip to bring Ironjaw up to date.

[Mr. X]

Returning to the Dwarven hillock, you find the camp steadily beginning to take shape. Already base fortifications are being assembled, and in many places the Warwizards are gathering to begin invoking the great rituals that will further alter the landscape to the position's advantage.

The command post is already established, and that is where you find 'General' Ironjaw.

He drops what he's doing as you enter.

"Oy! What's the word?"

[LordDice]

With a quick salute he starts filling in the General

"Sir, They've no word on our missing allies at all, save for having sent scouts after them as well"

"Since we're kind of separated out here without those other armies he's suggesting we either accompany him upon the rise he's currently occupying, or a smaller rise between us if you're not comfortable."

"Also minor hearsay while we were heading through to his tent, there were mutterings of a repelled attack on Sandy Shoal...turned away on the seas by the Godsent"

[Mr. X]

Ironjaw nods, taking it all in.

A great table dominates the command tent, itself dominated by a wide map of the local terrain. Ironjaw leans over it, scrutinizing the suggested locales.

"... That midway rise is less than ideal..."

He frowns,

"What of the crossing? Can the army maneuver to Star Spire's position safely?"

[Barthac]

The crossing is wide and open. We'd be vulnerable to an attack and we can't really move this many louts that quickly.

[Mr. X]

Ironjaw nods,

"Yeah, I can see that... You've stood on their hill though, is their position worth the risk?"

[LordDice]

"I think we're gonna get slaughtered if we stay apart, and that rise is the better position. So we don't have alot of choice here, might as well get our asses up there"

[GiedalCaine]

Doilin, quiet for most of the exchange with a very distracted look suddenly chimes in.

General, 've been watchin' the lads preparing to shore up the defenses. That ritual they're using. I remember studying things like it back at the University. Might the lads be able to cover our crossing with it? Say, shape a corridor for us to approach without so much open terrain? It might take a wee bit to set up and impliment but it'd be safer. Also, do they have anything that might harden the very ground itself? Turn the clay and dust to hard stone? It might do a bit to protect us if they decide to burrow unnerneat' us.

Realizing he may have spoken out of turn he abruptly changes tone.

Apologies, sir, it's just that when it comes to things like soldiers and battles I'm too much a novice. Magical support though, I know a thing or two about.

[Mr. X]

Ironjaw scoffs,

"Heh, that's a cute idea kid, but ye might as well build another wall around the whole..."

His voice fades out as comprehnsion dawns on him,

"... Holy Hells, we could, couldn't we... HA!"

He grabs a waiting messenger,

"Get word to the wizards. We're bridgin' the gap!"

He turns back to Doilin, smiling,

"You. You jes keep flappin' yer lips whenever ye feel the need. I'll tell ye to shut it if'n ye start botherin' me, but 'till then, I'll take all the advice I can get. Now get yourselves back to his royal runtness, and let 'im know we're comin'."

[GiedalCaine]

Also, I was pretty distracted afore, but I jus' tho't of a way I can help our scoutin' a bit. I've access ta.. a familiar of sorts one I can send out, see what it sees and hear what it hears. It won't have any knowledge of our orders and can't really be captured and eaten as it doesn't really exist. If ye'd like I can start sendin' it out to get the lay o' the land. Maybe spot our missin' allies.

[Mr. X]

Ironjaw waves a dismissing hand.

"Heh, do what e're ye like, but don't waste my time with it 'till ye got somethin' worthwhile te show me."

[GiedalCaine]

Gent's give me a moment before we 'ead back to tha king.

Doilin ducks into an empty tent preparing to draw forth a vestige from the beyond. Tracing a strange sign onto the ground takes a minute or so to get just right and when done, Doilin stands up, ready to invoke the name of the one he seeks.

Malphas, the turnfeather! Lend me your sight and your silence! Come taste of this world with your blackened tongue once again and grant me your power!

From the sigil etched into the floor explodes a furious swarm of doves that all evaporate as they scatter from its center. From their midst appears a handsome elf clad in black funereal clothing. He smiles revealing black teeth and when he speaks his black tongue licks at the air like a snake.

Bargain accepted, world dweller.

Spoiler

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Checking to ensure a good pact against DC 15 (1d20+13)[17]
Doilin selects +2 initiative as his pact augmentation for this pact. Assuming he might run into trouble today he felt it'd be better to be ready and on his toes.