Omeletteville, a few broken eggs making an omelette.
The town revolves around it's primary leader, Glythas, and his mission of organized expansion. Every road is carefully placed, perpendicular and carefully thought out to maximize happiness and efficiencies in an age where nothing can go to waste. Even Divia VonHof's DyeWorks was carefully moved from one side of the city to another to keep her away from the constant clanging and banging of the soldiers and ballista camps to the east. Glythas aspires to build up trade routes with his allies, and keeps all of his population extremely busy producing Jewelry and Ebony Wood. In return, he also brings as much joy and happiness as possible, and the townsfolk never go for wanting. Of course, with all of this need for production, comes a need for expansion and a need for military presence. All of that builds to a town that needs to work together in a time of much bloodshed, but also camaraderie.
The history of a town can be about it's leader, but should be as much so about the people who bring life to it. And so here is brought to you the people who make Omeletteville special.
The aforementioned Divia VonHof makes some of the world's finest dyed works. Originally a pottery expert, she is also the oldest living citizen within the town of Omeletteville. Her father was an owner of 4 pottery wheels and got her started working there from the age of 13, but her lifelong dream was to become a florist. In doing research with flowers and finding fields of them just outside the city, she discovered her hands would become discolored, as would her clothing. She then decided to liven up a city during its most violent times in an effort to bring joy to those who have lost so much in times of war the same way she loved flowers, but with something that lasted. She opened her DyeWorks at the beginning of the town's current age, and it is still the oldest standing building within the town of Omeletteville. Still widely hailed around the world for it's wide variety of colorful options from Canary Yellow, to Sunset Reds, and the prettiest Sky Blues that would shame the sky itself on the most cloudless day, it is a bright spot alongside the Goods District of the Town. Divia then met her now husband Dolph in the flower fields outside of town. Dolph, a military training sergeant at the soldier camps was taking the troops out for a training exercise when the two caught each other's eyes and married 5 days later.
Mrs. VonHof's husband Dolph VonHof is now a military drilling trainer at the army camps on the eastern side of town. The lone survivor of "The battle for Northern Karchagu", Dolph took down 4 mounted Horseman in a single battle by using guerrilla tactics and sticking to the trees. Dolph was cut and wounded 3 times in the battle, but his never-say-die attitude helped Lord Glythas to become victorious on that day and capture the lands. With many of his wounds leading to scars and limbs that never healed quite right, Dolph took over the training of new recruits at all of the soldier camps, and also opened the first of many archery camps and ballista camps as new military technology became available. Dolph has trained his men to stick to the trees as soldiers, get the ballistas to the tops of hills for best firing angles, and changed military strategy as we know it. Since his new command, military losses have been reduced to 1/3 of their original numbers of the previous regime. Dolph, though a violent man in a violent game, is also a lover of animals and has encouraged Glythas not to use horses or other animals in war as so many others have. VonHof's Law was passed just this past month, which states that no animal shall be used within the Omeletteville military, and no animal shall be slain that is without rider in a war effort. This is also much appreciated by Marco Scutard, who runs the fruit farms near the town's capital building and town hall, also uses the horses wrangled up after battle victories to help plow fields to prep for plantings in the spring, and for joy rides for the town's children.
That brings us to Marco Scutard, a friend to Dolph since childhood, who was a hunter before an accident saw him tumble down into a ravine and break his leg in several places. Without the medical technologies of a more modern age, a couple of small tree branches were used to brace the leg together with rags and his leg healed crooked at just the age of 13. Despite this, Marco grew to be an ox of a man, standing on his longer leg to a height of over six and a half feet, with hands the size of beer mugs and a torso wide enough to hide 2 adults behind him. The brute did his best to join the military for all the glory alongside his friend Dolph, and Glythas would have been glad to have his immense power on the battlefield, but his crippled leg and limp had no place in battle. Knowing his drive and determination to impress Lord Glythas, and the lord seeing his struggles, it was decided that Marco would be offered a position of headmaster of the town hall. He was then in charge of all of the servants, groundskeepers and guards of the Hall in order to keep it well maintained, and keep Lord Glythas' family safe. With barbarians and the like constantly needing to be kept at bay, this title was more than even Marco bargained for. Over the years, however, Marco started doing more of the groundskeeping work himself, always struggling to find reliable workers. Just outside the front lawn and front pools area was a small wooded area that had berries and smaller fruits growing there. He spent his spare time planting a few berries and plants off in the woods, and his efforts did not go unnoticed. Glythas saw the love he had for growing small fruits and animals, and asked Marco if he would like to own the land; on the condition that the military be fed freely off of anything that he may grow. Marco eagerly took up the lord's offer, and with the help of Dolph's horses, quickly cleared and cultivated the land with water used off the aqueducts nearby. With water now plentiful and the help of victory horses now in his stables, Marco began producing more food than the town knew what to do with. At the edge of the property, Marco also requested that victory towers be built there, as a motivation for him to continue to succeed and show others with disabilities that anyone can achieve what they set their minds to. Trav McFadden, the town's cultural director, was happy to make the arrangements as one of the town's key coordinators and designers.
Eccentric, dramatic and over-the-top are words that would still understate the flamboyant and energetic Trav "lightning" McFadden. Nicknamed for his hair that does nothing but stand on end like a man who was struck by 30 bolts of lightning every morning, McFadden believes more in aesthetics of his town than he cares about his own appearance. With hardened skin and but a single tooth in his mouth from long days as a war hero of the bronze age, and a total lack of hygiene, you would be shocked to learn that there is no one more devoted to the beauty of the city. Perhaps it comes from his father's strict military dad upbringing, or just a feeling that everything that's taken from others should be made whole again, every expansion to the town and Lord Glythas' empire has a piece of "lightning" flare. Whether it be the sand castle to the west, or the Tiger's Den beside the Triumphal arch in the south, each piece of decor was placed with intent to be enjoyed by the blacksmith or the regular populace alike. Under his watch, every path throughout the town is thoroughly cleaned and swept, and every time a newer method of travel is developed the newer material is laid out. From footpaths to gravel roads now, McFadden has overseen the majority of the overhauls. Against his better judgment, he also helped develop the Trav McFadden Amphitheater, named in tribute by Lord Glythas for his 30 years of service to the town. Though Trav admittedly does not attend any of the festivities or gladiator-style battles that take place there, he still hears constant nagging of both Dolph VonHof and Vic Vonsol, head of the blacksmith guild to attend with them.
Have you ever seen hands that are black as ash and rougher than the gravel you walk on? Vic Vonsol, head of the blacksmith guild, is such a man. Barely taller than the average 13 year old boy, he is nearly as wide. A gruff and grim looking man, jet-black hair and a beard to his belly to match. Blackened staining of his skin and burns from forges tattoo his arms and even one side of his face to form a menacing appearance. Having had his vocal cords damaged by inhalation of ash and various other chemical creations over his forge, his only method for communication these days is grunting and nodding. Forging weapons of his own design, his blacksmiths work diligently to produce weapons for the army and also the town's militia, as everyone carries weapons within the town to protect themselves. This makes for plenty of employment opportunities for a young upstart blacksmith, and Vonsol spends many a days teaching young would-be blacksmith apprentices the arts of heating and molding bronze, iron and newer metals to form weapons, armors, and even usable things throughout a cottage or home. "Those who can't fight, support those who do" is on a sign that hangs proudly over the entryway to his office inside his first blacksmith. His total number of blacksmiths to oversee now stands at 15, with his assistant Bain Helsing translating his grunts and growls out to manage the team of over 100 blacksmiths on shift in any given day. Bain also has the unpleasant responsibility of keeping the peace between Vonsol and Maldan McGaffigan, a former apprentice of Vonsol's who went on to perfect the finer arts of jewelry and marble sculpting. The 2 have been at odds for a decade, with McGaffigan antagonizing Vonsol and demanding a witty retort, with the mute Vonsol flinging back the occasional throwing axe, knife or spear just to remind McGaffigan who's boss. Bain Helsing has actually come up with a sort of neighbors agreement with unofficial lines in the sand drawn out to keep the peace. Each of the two seem to enjoy testing the others patience from time to time, and the tempers are known to flare up on occasion.
This brings us to Maldan McGaffigan, a former Vonsol featured apprentice, and perhaps his most talented. Maldan is a tall and thin man who spends much of his spare time day dreaming and trying to visualize his next creation. Although rated as the best apprentice that Vonsol ever had as a smithy, he was also criticized for taking 10 times as long to get projects done as he would spend so much time finishing and polishing his creations to such a perfected shine, that he brought the entire efficiency rating of all the blacksmiths under Vonsol down. Though Vonsol repeatedly told Maldan that his designs had no place in the war machine, and proved to Maldan that his designs were no more effective at deflecting or inflicting blows on the enemy, McGaffigan had a hard time putting his artistic mind at ease. He tried taking some of his work home to his cottage to work on it overnight, but came to find that bronze and iron simply weren't beautiful things to make specialized designs from. From there, he collected fine stones and marble that he could easily tap away at and form into fine jewelry and even made a few jewel encrusted blades and armors at the request of wealthy folk within town. When Lord Glythas requested a custom set of armor be made for his family collection, Vonsol became offended by the notion that he would not even be asked, and McGaffigan got the contract to produce it. Add to that fact that shortly after, Vonsol discovered McGaffigan was dating his 2nd oldest daughter without his knowledge. Vonsol immediately forbade Maldan from using any of the blacksmith forges under his possession. McGaffigan pleaded with Glythas to force Vonsol to allow him access, but the lord instead opted to give the contract to Vonsol. Vonsol spent 2 months non-stop working at his forges, while McGaffigan would walk by on occasion, watching him feverishly work each night with pillars of black smoke escaping the chimneys. With the armor having been shaped and sculpted with sharp and fine lines and a blend of bronze and iron, it looked nearly flawless, yet all flat and boring in color. Another couple days pass, and McGaffigan goes by Vonsol's blacksmith again and sees him asleep at his desk. He decides to take a look around the blacksmith, but the armor isn't there. "Vonsol, has Glythas already received the armor?" he asks, waking the gruff blacksmith. Vonsol springs to his feet, goes to his locked chest, and sees that the lock is popped open with the key still inside. Vonsol angrily grabs the much more fragile McGaffigan by the neck and lifts him off his feet, pinning him to the wall with one hand. With the other, he angrily points a few times to the open and empty chest to which McGaffigan could only reply that he didn't know. Vonsol then tosses McGaffigan aside, and stomps his fists on his desk, nearly cracking the joints that were welded strongly together on the legs of the desk. McGaffigan ran back to his cottage, and to his dismay sat on his main table Vonsol's armor. On it set a note that read "My father would never let you have the glory you deserve for your amazing talents. Make what you can of this or do what you will with it, and I will speak to my father. -Love Amelia". McGaffigan couldn't believe his good fortunes for an opportunity to prove himself. Amelia, meanwhile had convinced her father to allow him to finish the armor so they could turn it in together and rekindle a longtime friendship that for some time had gone sideways. Maldan worked incessantly through the night for weeks on the armor, with ebony wood accents, adorned with jewels across the majority of the helmets from topaz and aquamarine to some of the reddest rubies you may have ever seen. The pieces were to be decorative, so the only concern was whether or not Glythas would ever try to lift it, as even the helmet now weighed a solid 45 pounds, and the body armor was equal in weight for being 4 times the material at 180 pounds. Vonsol was shocked when he saw the armor carried out on a platform by 10 men and set before his blacksmith for his approval. He walked holes into his shoes circling and inspecting the armor, looking for a flaw for hours, though he could find none. Amelia came home and bear-hugged the 2 of them when they got together to discuss delivering the armor to Lord Glythas. Amelia insisted on going in her father's stead as he was being asked to finish yet another order for the army. With the slow travel times of moving the armor being step by step since horses may have made the armor unbalanced on its platform for travel, it would be carried by a group of men the 6 miles to the town hall to where it would be accepted and then hung in Lord Glythas' main hall. The 6 mile journey got underway, and the men struggled to carry such heavy armor all the way up the gravel roads. Amelia did her best to keep the men motivated with her warm and comedic spirit, skipping around them and helping to lead them by singing songs of the lands. She also gave them frequent breaks to allow them to catch their breath at least once per mile. A couple tough turns and the armor was finally to the town hall gates. The only problem now was the steps leading up to the main hall. 46 steps. 46 backbreaking steps. Amelia gave the men the rest of the day off with not a cloud in the sky, and they returned the next morning.
The next morning the men were charged up and ready to go. Amelia did her best to get food and water into their bellies before the big haul up the steps. Lord Glythas was also to return this morning to see the progress and get his first look at his new decorative armor. The men clasped the edges of the platform and heaved it up and started up the steps, with the men on the front stepping backwards first and the men at the back following immediately behind. Thump-thump....one...Thump-thump...two...Thump-thump. The armor shook slightly with each step up the front steps. Maldan merely looked on in amazement as the armor was shining gloriously in the sun and so close to its new home. At the 23rd step was a small flat area where the men were able to set down the platform and take a rest. The weight of armor, legplates, helmet, armplates and even gloves and boots exceeded 700 pounds, which normally would be no problem to carry, but after an exhausting 6 mile hike the day before, the men were getting shaky on their feet. Amelia and Maldan let their rest come to an end as Lord Glythas came up to the main gate with his royal escort. The men quickly got to their feet and hoisted the platform. Amelia gave Maldan a quick kiss and an "I love you" , knowing that Glythas would be so proud of him as she ran to join the men. As she got up to the back of the line, she realized the men were going too fast for the few in the front. As she tried to get the words out of her mouth to tell them to slow down, a man at the front bumped his heel into the back of a step and fell, causing the platform to shake violently. The others in the front attempted to over compensate by pulling up on the platform to steady it, while the men in the back went to take a step back to not crush their comrade beneath the platform. Too many decisions in too little time, and the body armor came sliding off the back of the platform. The men at the back took a hand off the platform in able to catch it before it fell, and managed to stop the main breastplate from falling. The helmet however skipped off and started to fall back. Maldan turns around, about to profess to Amelia that he loves her too as the helmet comes hurtling towards her. He reaches out in an effort to grab her and pull her from harm, but alas, he was too far away. The helmet struck her squarely in the chest, knocking her backwards and to the edge of the first set of steps, where she finally lost her balance and went over. Thump-thump....thump-thump...thump-thump. Maldan was too much in shock to move. Amelia was down, her body lifeless with the helmet clasped to her chest in her arms, never knowing any harm. Glythas ran to the scene and the guardsmen assisted with getting the men and the armor up to the top of the hall, as Glythas and Maldan attempted to tend to Amelia. Maldan held her in his arms, begging her not to leave, but it did no good, as Amelia was already gone. The lord offered to give Amelia a royal funeral and set her out to sea to be honored in the way their people do, but Maldan was inconsolable. Vonsol, upon learning of this, was so grief stricken, he smashed half of his blacksmith with random weapons and armor and cried for the first time that he could remember. When the servants collected the body of Amelia and the helmet, Glythas stopped one of the servants and looked at the helmet. It shown a bloodstain from the slits near the eyes that came streaming down the front of the face. The servant immediately offered to clean it, to which Glythas declined and stated that no one should clean it off. "Amelia's tears", as he called them would remain to be seen by all the townsfolk who were allowed admittance to the hall to learn of the sacrifice that was made by one of their own that day.
Weeks later, Lord Glythas came by Maldan's cottage to see how the young man was doing. "I never told her that I loved her too...with all my heart, I loved her too." he mumbled to himself. Glythas put a hand on Maldan's shoulder and asked him if he would ever forget her face. "Never!" he declared. "Good." Glythas said with a smile. "Then you should have no problem making me a statue of her to honor her from this marble masonry you now run. You can attach the jewelry shop to it as well, should you be so motivated. The armor you made is more than I could have asked for, and the sacrifice that you, Vonsol and Amelia have made for it should not be forgotten." Maldan nodded slowly, unsure if this was the right course of action, considering his grief and his new neighbor Vonsol also being a grieving father. Maldan went into his bedroom with a piece of marble and carved out her general facial features for a model that he would use to design her future statue. A few days later, he went to his shop and worked himself to the bone for days, weeks and even months. He would get nearly done, then in frustration of a lack of perfection, he smashed the works to pieces. Plain marble statues, statues adorned with jewels; all fell victim to his grief stricken rage. Lord Glythas had nearly forgotten about the statue being made when he had some villagers complaining about noise requesting to be heard. He immediately knew that Mandal must be responsible. He headed over to the jewelry and marble shops only to see Maldan smashing marble and jewelry into the ground it a fit of rage and tears. He attempted to flip a table over, but was so exhausted he merely collapsed on top of it. Glythas merely stood in the doorway of the shop as he saw Maldan reach towards his plain marble model and sighed "Why can't I figure out how to perfect you...?". Glythas walked into the room and picked up a few pieces, joking "Well, I think you might still do good work...did this piece go with this one?...You know, this marble facial sculpture is actually exactly what we were looking for. It plainly shows her facial features, a hint of her smile...I dare say it's perfect. Would you make us a pedestal so we can mount this next to the armor in the hall?". Maldan looked at Glythas confused, when he realized that Glythas was right. The original sculpture was how he remembered her, and each attempt thereafter was an attempt to style her in a way that just wasn't her. Beautiful and elegant, yet simple, and uncluttered by unnecessary jewelry or fancy things. She loved the finer things in life no more than the simple ones like love, happiness and nature. Maldan promised Glythas a pedestal for the sculpture, and made a simple 4-sided one with a jeweled top to it that shown just the name "Amelia". It still stands beside the armor to this day, though Volson, her father, has yet to set foot near the town hall since her death. The 2 men, Maldan and Volson, still antagonize each other seemingly to test each other's levels of grief and make sure the other is ok, while still holding a small amount of blame for each other for her death.
Despite the tragedy and grief that has befallen many in this town of Omeletteville, there is no more here than anywhere else in an Iron Age Empire. People fall hard, die young and move on to other exploits. All things considered, all of them have come together and done fairly well. The businesses that are run by Divia, Dolph, Marco, Trav, Maldan and Volson all help bring a town into some semblance of order where otherwise there may be total chaos. Divia and Maldan produce the vast majority of the goods for the town, while Volson is focused primarily on supplies, and Dolph and Trav handle the army and cultural sectors of the town respectively. While they have separate jobs and responsibilities, each of them are linked together seemingly by fate. Without one being a part of the other, the town would most certainly fall, and it is this organized chaos that makes Omeletteville what it has become today. That being said, growth and expansion are also a major part of what Omeletteville is now becoming, having now joined the Guild of the Whiskydrinknrednecks after following years of standing alone.
The Whiskydrinknredneck Guild; what's in a name? A friendly group that spends half of it's day with its Lords and leaders meeting up and gossiping while drinking, recovering from hangovers, and then drinking again when the hangover won't go away. While that may sound like the most non-productive team of leaders in history, one would find it quite surprising that the group is actually quite organized. Omeletteville primarily focuses on stocking goods for the Guild treasury for future Guild Wars to help expand it's lands and reap the benefits that the alliance with others has to offer, as well as sending out scouts and ambassadors to help motivate and improve buildings in the new-found allies towns to find hints on how to build new Great Buildings in their own town. Having found a few blueprints along the way, Glythas' assistants and researchers now believe that it is only a matter of time before not one, but 2 Great Buildings become erected within the walls of Omeletteville. Should that not immediately succeed, Glythas has one other plan for success and expansion. His secret weapon. Vladislav Korsh, war hero extraordinaire.
Vladislav Korsh as a young man was always troubled. Picked on for having only a mother and never knowing who his father was, he constantly found himself defending his own honor. Sometimes he did so with words, other times he did so with his fists. Korsh in fact became so adept at verbal and physical confrontations that he had learned to psyche out his opponents before they would even dare throw the first punch. In doing so, he could sometimes avoid having to take a punch at all. His reputation grew rapidly as he became known as "the Viper", a man who could strike fast at any time or slither away without a care in the world. His exploits earned him some time in prison, which naturally led to a few rounds of entertainment for the public fighting gladiator style battles in the amphitheater. Vladislav knew to use his surroundings to his advantage, never hesitating to throw sand in an opponent's eye, stomp on the toes of an opponent to distract him, or simply pretend to be disinterested and taunt his opponents to get them to leave their comfort zones. Nothing was out of the realm of possibilities in a match against Vlad "the Viper", though he had a hard time going through with killing anyone for sport, and oftentimes requested mercy for his defeated opponents as opposed to requesting to execute them in their defeat. While the majority of his fighting tactics got a rise out of the crowd, their thirst for bloodshed not their own often lead to disappointment, and ultimately the end of Korsh's fighting days in the Amphitheater. He refused to kill a helpless competitor, whether it man, tiger, bear, or whatever they may throw at him. Occasionally they would throw chariots in with archers to test his mettle, and he would always survive, whether it be by forcing a shield into the wheelpath to cause it to flip, or merely his deadly aim with spears. So despite a kills count of well over 100 men, Vladislav was forced to walk from the gladiator combat arena during his prime for failing to go with the crowd vote to kill the last remaining helpless competitors. Having seen Vladislav in combat, Dolph VonHof did not hesitate to pay his dues off and invite him to the military barracks to test his might with the rest of the soldiers. It is there that he met Alexei VonHof, Dolph's son and scout to the military, and Clint Macaw, an archer.
Vlad "the Viper", Alexei "the cunning", and Clint "Bullseye" Macaw were the three most reputable warriors within Omeletteville, and soon became the best of friends. While oftentimes ridiculed for their refusal to just charge headlong into battle and hit the front lines running, the "Triumphant Trio" as they came to be called, would always use battle tactics involving their surroundings and play the field more intelligently. So while other nations may merely line up like a chess match and try to see who wins, Vlad and Alexei would stick to trees and obstacles to strike from, while Clint would shoot down targets from such long ranges that they were sometimes able to take out an entire legion without being struck. The Triumphant Trio always traveled together, typically to infiltrate enemy expansion territories of opportunity and do harm to the enemy military entrenched there, whether by picking off a few members in their sleep, poisoning their food supplies, or merely cutting them off from their supplies altogether and using them for Omeletteville's own devices.
Vlad was the most well-known of the group, and typically spoke for the group as well. This often was taken as a term of leadership, and although he never officially earned any title as an ex-convict, everyone in the town of Omeletteville knew who the true military leader on the field was, including Lord Glythas himself. In fact, after many victories, Glythas would parade Vlad around the town as a war hero in an effort to motivate his people to continue to advance and produce as much as possible to the war effort, as well as get donations and increases to taxes to help maintain alliances with offers of gold and goods. Alexei always admired the attention that Vlad had gotten, and a small amount of jealousy there did linger for the years to come. Clint, more of the quiet type, would much rather sit in a corner and overlook and watch over his friends for fear of assassination attempt, whether perched up on high with arrow notched in his bow, or watching their backs with a throwing knife attached to his arms. Clint knew without his friends, there would be very few victories to speak of, and he would protect them no matter what.
They gave their entire lives to the art of warfare. When Clint wasn't shooting arrows, he was making or customizing them at the ebony woodworks. He even developed arrows with small slits in them that could be used as a form of flare to request assistance or alert others of troops presence as the arrow would whistle through the air like a songbird. Alexei, the cunning, was a rogue at heart, and the most gruesome of the 3. He was also somewhat of a ladies man, always with a woman on the arm immediately after a night of sneaking up behind someone and stabbing them in the neck...had gotten his blood pumping. He has even been rumored to have spent the night with all 3 of Clint's sisters, though Clint has stated he could care less about such things. Alexei, when not partying or attempting to woo the women of the town, was often found studying anatomy and testing his ability to cripple and wound his opponents to eliminate their ability to fight back. Whether breaking someone off at the knees, or cutting someone to make them bleed out faster, Alexei did his best to master the art-form of it. Vlad then took all of their extreme talents and applied the strategy and planning to it. Sneaking from the shadows, going through obstacle courses with no prize at the end of the torture test were all apart of the training process. They became a finely tuned death machine, as no great victory in these times can come without someone else's demise. It seemed that no one could defeat the group, and no one could catch them.
Glythas was beyond proud of his soldiers, and sometimes too much so. He decided it was time to expand into the mountain regions to the east lead by the barbarian hoards. For decades they had maintained a peace through trade relations, but those relations now became strained as the barbarian hoards, led by Talco Bri'ch, were looking to continue to hike up their demands for goods or raid and pillage their surrounding neighbors. Having witnessed the rage that these berserking barbarians were capable of, the old method of dealing with them was to succumb to the pressures of their demands. Times were about to change. Having now grown the might of the military to 15x its size of the previous raid attempt, Glythas now had confidence in his army's ability to seize the day. Troops were mobilized, gear was readied, and goodbyes to loved ones were said. Omeletteville was off to go crack a few eggs.
The Red Wars soon ensued. War preparations went quite smoothly, and at first, Glythas and his armies were surprised at the relative ease that each battle went with. So long as they were able to stay out of range of the barbarian's berserker rage that they were able to call upon whenever they needed, they were picking off enemies at will. Vlad, Clint and Alexei had amassed hundred of kills and victories, even managing to get a few of the barbarians to come and take sides with Glythas' armies. After a flawless victory, however, Vlad, Clint and Alexei grabbed a flask of whiskey and celebrated, when suddenly the earth began to shake. 4000 berserking barbarians came from over the hill to the east, eyes filled with red rage, clubs in hand and ready to strike. For the first time in their lives, Alexei and Vlad had true fear overcome them, and their modest group of only 183 men started to sprint for retreat to climb a series of cliffs to the west. Clint, who was already ahead of the pack, fired arrows off as far as he could in all directions to try to get the men to follow him and alert the others of the on-slaught sure to come if they didn't make it up the rock climb before being swallowed up by the horde. One by one, the 183 men climbed the rock walls to get to the top of the ledge, the earth slowly quaking more loudly as they climbed. Clint was the first to scale the wall, followed by Alexei, while Vlad stayed behind to get them all up. Once he saw the dust storm turn to visible monsters running at the wall, everyone started running up the wall as quick as they could. Four men fell in their efforts to scale the 150 foot wall; 3 falling instantly to their deaths, and the 4th being swallowed up and beaten to death by the horde that now swarmed down below.
Unfortunately for the small army, getting to the top is just about all they would get to, as it was merely a plateau that on the other side dropped straight down a couple hundred feet into the raging sea. Alexei and Vlad started ordering the other troops to gather rocks, sticks, branches, and anything they could find. The barbarians below, typically unintelligent and disorganized, appeared to be following a large barbarian leader who was pointing out strategies and giving orders. Clint, looking down, realized that it indeed was Talco Bri'ch. Clint immediately thought to himself if he could take out the leader, that it may cause dissension in the ranks and allow for an opening to escape. Clint notched an arrow and took his aim. He fired.... a perfect strike to Talco's skull, splitting it and felling him off the boulder he stood upon, raging and barking his orders. Clint cheered with delight, a sound not heard often from the soft spoken archer, and Alexei and Vlad came to see what the cheering was all about. Looking down, the other two saw the felled general and hung their heads with a sigh, as the berserking barbarians looked up at the group with nothing but rage in their eyes. Vlad spoke first, "Clint, your heart was in the right place, but now how are we going to get you back to Omeletteville to warn them of this massive group and invasion?". Alexei head slaps Clint, also stating "You know, I don't have any fear of dying, but if that horde leaves us and kills all the women in Omeletteville, that'll leave you to be my next love interest...not what I had in mind.". Clint suddenly realized the err of his ways as all the barbarians made a straight line to the wall and began trying to scale it. The Triumphant Three did what they could to rally the troops, but some were so gripped with fear that they cowered into the center of the plateau. Some just mindlessly threw rocks and sticks over the edge at the barbarians hoping it would make a difference. Clint began firing arrows at the fastest climbers, hoping to knock them down into others on the way up, as Vlad and Alexei got the army to coordinate rock tossing and branch dropping to knock more barbarians down. It was working and the barbarians appeared to be getting frustrated, having lost a few hundred men already. Suddenly, large rocks came flying in from below, as the barbarians had started flinging rocks the size of a mans head from catapults from below. "Catapults? How the heck did they get catapults?! We only just developed ballistas!" Vlad yelled, moving back from the wall. There was a small trench that many of the men dove into, others taking their chances dropping to the sea of rough waters and jagged rocks below. "The only group we know nearby with catapults..." Vlad thought to himself for a moment, "is Lord JtThompson...". Suddenly, chaos ensued as some members of the army suspected a conspiracy, while others thought the gods themselves wanted their lives to end. Nothing that the Triumphant 3 said seemed to help, and even the barbarians that had chosen to take side with them began attacking their new allies. Clint and Vlad quickly dispatched of their new barbarian friends, while Alexei went to check on the catapults, which seemed to run out of ammo. Now looking around to see what was left, only 12 of the original 183 men remained. The barbarians below, though not raging as they had been originally, now paced back and forth below, not realizing how dire the situation was above. One of the barbarians pointed back to the wall, trying to encourage his brethren to attempt the climb again, but not until he started the climb did the others follow suit. Suddenly, over 3000 barbarians were setting up to scale the walls.
Vlad set down his spear and shield and spoke to the men. "It's been an honor serving with you. I cannot tell you all what you should do. Should you choose to stand and fight with me, so be it. Should you choose what surely is a watery grave behind us, so be it. And should you choose to try to escape or hide, so be it. But we cannot win this battle this day...but it doesn't mean we can't try to take as many of them as we can with us!". Vlad perhaps expected more motivation from his troops, but they all acted as though they didn't hear him. Some were saying prayers to themselves, and others were considering taking their own lives. Alexei and Clint each put a hand on Vlad's shoulders and nodded at him in agreement. The other soldiers all ran out in panic and either threw themselves off the cliffs towards the sea, or unsuccessfully tried to climb down the rock wall unnoticed, only to learn that the barbarians were nearly to the top.
The first barbarian made the top, and with just the Triumphant Three remaining, Clint and Alexei began trying to pick off a few targets at a time. Vlad moved back towards the edge of the water with a spear in one hand and a sword in the other, seemingly welcoming an attack. Alexei and Clint, finally unable to keep up with the stream of barbarians coming towards them, all ran back to the edge of the sea-cliffs alongside Vlad. Now out of arrows, Clint grabbed the pair of hand-axes that Dolph, Alexei's father, had made for him. Alexei brandished a pair of long bladed knives, and Vlad still stood with his muscles tensed with his sword and spear. The barbarians made their way to the 3 and began circling them. Nearly 2500 barbarians still remained that were able to make the climb, with one or two running at the heroes only to be felled extremely quickly, or dodged and thrown over the edge to the sea below. The circle around the 3 of them slowly shrank bit by bit until Vlad could nearly reach his spear out and touch one of their noses with his spear. Vlad, Alexei and Clint looked at each other, and shrugged a careless shrug, then raised their weapons in the air and screamed "For Omeletteville!" as they prepared to take as many with them as they could....
(Continued on next post)
