Pulling a Thomas (1 Jan 2003) Agatha, in Tom-like fashion, tries to infiltrate the ranks of the enemy.

West of the City
Night has fallen, and drifting snowflakes begin to thicken the rime on the trees. The main road to the city can be seen easily by fading moonlight, for it has been trampled into mud and slush by thousands of tramping feet and gouged by the wheels of huge supply wagons, or perhaps siege engines. Here and there, broken branches look as if they have been either broken by brute strength, or lopped off cleanly by passersby.

Until now, Ahearn had galloped at full speed, carrying Redmane as swiftly as the wind across a little-used trail from the Elysian countryside, but as the churned avenue comes into view, he slows down, nostrils flared. The wind picks up from the east, carrying the odor of greasy smoke.

Redmane frowns as she looks over the trampled earth. "I'd wondered where the rest of the Destroyer's forces went. Can you catch any scent of them still, Ahearn, or are we too far behind?"

The ground and even the snow stinks of troll, Ahearn says with a whuffle. An army of them must have passed this way some time in the last day or so. I cannot say where they are now, but we are not more than a few leagues from the Palace, now. At full speed, we could be there within the hour.

"Let's go then," Redmane says, and makes ready her lance, just in case. "I'll want to see what numbers we're up against, and if they're camped out or actively laying siege to the capitol."

Without another word, Ahearn trots down the road. Signs of the enemy passing grow more numerous as Redmane goes: splinters from the wagons, footsteps imprinted into the slush that grow fresher....

It is the sight of a misplaced shadow that causes her to bring Ahearn to a stop. Ahead, a misshapen humanoid shadow nearly merges into the outline of a tree, but no tree ever grew branches in the forms of axes. From the way that it is posed, it appears to be standing watch, not alert -- as yet -- to Redmane's presence.

Lowering her lance, Redmane takes aim at the shadow and signals Ahearn with her knees to head for the treeline. There might be other sentries that she can't see, after all.

Ahearn sidesteps into the woods, his ears flattened back against his head. He twists his head from side to side as he moves, keeping watch for any other unusual figures.

Once under the cover of the woods, Redmane dismounts and whispers to Ahearn, "Remember the trick we pulled on the goblins, where you disguised yourself? Think these trolls would be interested in a wandering horse?"

The forest seems more shadowy now than Redmane recalls, perhaps because she is paying closer attention to the way the trees' shadows fall across the snow. The wind carries stronger traces of burning wood.

The white stallion snorts. Does the Year's End live in the West? he asks rhetorically.

The knight grins, and pats Ahearn's neck. "Alright. Any normal horse would be skittish around Trolls, but if you approached along the road and just kept out of range, it might be enough to draw them out of hiding. If there's just the one sentry, I can try to ambush it. If there are too many though, we'll have to find a way around them. I don't want any alarm being sent if at all possible."

Ahearn scents the wind, but it's blowing the wrong way. I doubt any army this large, of trolls or otherwise, would post a lone sentry. But we can handle two or three, if that's all. Quietly, on the other hand ... He gives an equine shrug. We can but try. He waits for Redmane to dismount.

Redmane reaches the ground, and hides her pack and lance at the base of a tree so that she can travel light.

Ahearn slips into the semblance of a scruffy white horse, perhaps a runaway from some farm that had been looted in the recent past: the very image of some tired old workhorse. He treads heavily down the path.

Before long, he has the undivided attention of the sentry, who steps out into the moonlit road to look where he came from. Trollish grumbles are exchanged between himself and another sentry further down the road -- so there is another one! -- and then the second trollish shadow steps out to help bracket the hack, a huge horn slung upon his back.

With comical worry, then terror appearing upon the horse's face, Ahearn freezes in place, casting his glance about to see if more slavering trolls are closing on his position ... and then just as they are almost upon him, he bolts back up the road in Redmane's direction, slipping past the closer one! With a roar, the trolls rush after him, their broad feet sending up great splashes of slurried snow.

Drawing her sword, Redmane backs up against a tree-trunk at the edge of the road. She holds the sword ready to strike at neck level, hoping to catch the first troll as he runs past after Ahearn.

Chak! Correcting her aim at the last minute from a human's neck height to a troll's, the lady knight neatly decapitates the first troll, who continues to run on gruesomely for a few seconds before collapsing, neck sizzling. The second troll turns to look, gapes as the scorching ichor on the blade curls away in black smoke, and then turns to begin running back down the road. One hand reaches back to pull his horn over his shoulder.

Behind Redmane, as soon as the first troll's head hits the ground, Ahearn turns about neatly, dropping his disguise and preparing to charge back the way he came.

"Run that troll down before he can sound the horn!" Redmane calls to Ahearn, not wanting to risk the time it would take to remount. She gives chase on her own, running through the mud.

The troll snarls an imprecation in his language, guttural and accompanied with spittle, as he begins to run, looking back over his shoulder to find Redmane close behind. He takes a deep breath, dropping his axe to bring the horn up with both hands as he runs. Behind them both are the thunderous hooves of Ahearn.

Trying to close the distance with a lunge, Redmane swings her sword at the troll's back to try and hurt it enough to keep it from drawing in the breath needed to sound the horn.

The slash leaves a smoldering trail across the troll's back, parting its crude leather and brass scale armor as if it were wearing no more than cloth! The troll roars, then turns and raises his horn up as if it were a club instead, turning to strike at Redmane with it.

"Yes!" Redmane hisses between her teeth, and raises her sword to block.

The iron sword cleaves through the horn's upper part, slicing off a chunk! The troll's eyes widen as he sees the damage, then looks up to see Ahearn charging in -- but it appears that he is not ready to call it quits so soon. Defiance in his gleaming yellow eyes, he raises the horn up to his lips, taking in another great breath.

With the troll preoccupied, Redmane thrusts at the monster's chest.

With a horrible noise, the troll stands transfixed before so much as a whisper escapes his horn and looks down at the sword through his chest. He slowly topples over backward, dark smoke curling from his wound.

Ahearn skids to a stop, hooves digging into the slurry, controlled so deftly that he finishes with his nose over Redmane's shoulder. Well done, he says with a single decisive snort.

Redmane takes a moment to look around for any further sentries before she retrieves her sword. "And now we have a signal horn. That might be useful for setting up a distraction later."

Scouting ahead where the forest thins out reveals the glows of campfires of a considerable army numbering in the thousands, spreading out as far as Redmane's eyes can see. It's possible that they may not completely encompass the city, but from here, there's no telling just how far they do extend. It is from behind thick brushy cover that Redmane and Ahearn watch an outlying work camp, where distance-tiny goblins hammer upon large siege engines and towers.

"I think it's safe to say we're outnumbered," Redmane tells her companion. "And those siege engines will probably be ready in less than a day. I wish we had a few dragons now. We need to disrupt the construction crews, I think. Anything to buy more time for Sir Theodore's army to catch up. What do you think, Ahearn?"

Outnumbered ... yes. Ahearn surveys the army. My only hope is that they don't have dragons. If we had a force to sally with, we might be able to cause a disruption, but this looks like a few too many for even us to ruffle. Perhaps if we targeted the right place....

"Or multiple places," Redmane muses, rubbing her chin in thought. "We have the horn. If we ran a circle around the army, sounding the alarm along each road, we might cause a bit of chaos. Otherwise ... are your glamour skills good enough to disguise us as a Vyglari?"

A larger figure barks orders to the goblins, causing them to work harder. From this distance, it's hard to make out specific details of the figure, the more so as it goes behind some of the large engines.

Redmane tries to count how many forces are surrounding the construction crew. "There must be a way to get closer," she mutters.

Ahearn gives a nod. In the gloom ... I do not know. I might be able to give the impression that we belonged with the army, as some sort of monster, but it would not stand up to any kind of scrutiny. Winding the horn in different locations strikes me as a good idea. But perhaps we should not waste it now. Think, if we could convince them that a sally was coming from the south of their camp, as Sir Theodore's knights rode in from the west.

"I agree," Redmane says, eyeing the construction site. "If Thomas were here, he would certainly try to bluff his way into their ranks. Soldiers are used to following orders, after all, not questioning them, and this lot is likely to be either terrified of their officers or else too stupid to react quickly. I might be able to work up a quick disguise for myself, and wearing the signal horn should give me some credibility. Are you up to pulling a Thomas?"

The larger figure emerges from behind the engines, and walks to the edge of the camp to peer out toward the road-- he appears to be a larger humanoid figure, rendered shadowy by the campfires behind him.

"Is that an ogre?" Redmane whispers as she hunkers down further. "It's awfully big."

The ogre's gaze sweeps past the brush that covers Ahearn and Redmane. He remains there for a long minute, searching.

Could he be sensing the iron in my weapons? Redmane thinks to herself. With all the troll-stench and noise in the camp, it seems unlikely to her that the creature picked up their scents or voices.

After a time, the large humanoid turns away, and returns to the fires. More barked orders send the goblins scurrying again.

"I think we have our target," Redmane whispers after the foreman has turned away. "If we look official, he should come over to see what we want."

Ahearn answers her question with a sharp nod. Once the ogre is turned away, he glances to his rider. A Thomas, eh? Well. Let it not be said that I was any less brave than the Lord Explorer. He looks to the back of the retreating ogre. Or any wiser.

"Let's move back down the road a way," Redmane says, and begins retreating as quietly as she can. "You can give yourself black scales, fangs and glowing eyes, and I can hopefully hide my nature and scent with a good amount of mud."

Don't expect anything too specific of this, Ahearn warns, as Redmane prepares. We'll probably look different to each one who sees us, so try not to do or say anything about what we are. He looks at the churned mud of the road, sighs inwardly, then stoops to his knees, and rolls in it.

Taking heaping handfuls of the muck, Redmane smears it liberally over her face and hair to make it as dark and crusty looking as she can.

The mud and gravel are icy cold upon her bare skin, but after some work, she thinks that she has succeeded in disguising her clean appearance quite suitably. At the very least, anyone would have to look twice to recognize her, and that if they already knew her. The more important question lies ahead: How will the workers at the camp receive Redmane?

Remounting Ahearn, and wearing the signal horn prominently across her chest, Redmane urges the stallion forward at a casual pace down the road. Think like a monster. Think like a monster. If Thomas can do this, so can I.

As Redmane and Ahearn ride close enough to be seen, a shout from one of the goblin workers alerts the foreman. He lumbers to the edge of the camp, staying within the edge of the lit area, and calls a greeting in some monstrous language ... and from this close up, it can be seen that he is indeed an ogre, half again as tall as Redmane. His eyes squint at the rider with some difficulty, trying to make her out in the darkness.

The disguised knight salutes the ogre, and does her best to growl out, "I'm here to see how you are progressing. There will be no mercy for falling behind schedule or producing inferior weapons."

The foreman looks somewhat taken aback, but peers down at the figure apprehensively. "No attack tonight. Not until rear guard gets here." He lays a hand on the hilt of his axe as he leans forward and challenges, "Who asking?"

Redmane draws her own blade, and says, "An ironbearer for our Lord, you idiot. Now show me the siege engines and I might forget that you questioned our Master's schedule."

The ogre's eyes go wide. "Y-y-yes, of course, master!" he stammers out, backing away. "Right away, master!"

Sheathing the sword, Redmane nudges Ahearn to follow the ogre. Good grief, I hope this doesn't mean the Destroyer really does have iron-bearing soldiers, she worries. Now, I just have to set them back a few hours while making sure they work themselves ragged to boot. Maybe I can convince them to test-fire the catapults on another part of the army? That could be productive....

Previous Log: Black Ship, Dark Concerns	Next Log: Unintended Consequences

Thread Links
	Previous Log: Packing for the Journey Next Log: Trebuchet Testing

---

This site serves as a chronicle of sessions in an online roleplaying campaign moderated by Conrad "Lynx" Wong and May "Rowan" Wasserman. The contents of this site are (c) 2001, 2002 by Conrad Wong and May Wasserman except where stated otherwise. Despite the "children's fantasy" theme of this campaign, this site is not intended for young readership, due to mild language and violence.