Galen did not like fighting in the mountains. But the pegasus knights’ reconnaissance had been good, allowing them to choose one of the few spots among the mountains where his knights would have enough room to maneuver. It would also provide some advantage for the orcs as well, but that was not to be helped.
It had been only three days since the gallant of the Parravon scout detachment had sought audience with Galen in Chabreux. He and his men had been following a large band of orcs through the Grey Mountains. Though the orcs no longer posed a threat to Parravon, they had come to warn Gisoreux of the pending danger. Galen had mustered a force immediately and bid the Parravon knights lead him and his men to where the orcs could be engaged. They had done so out of duty. They had had stayed to share in the danger out of noble character.
“It is time, your Lordship,” said Sir Armand d’Eloirre, the army’s battle standard bearer and Galen’s long-time friend. They had seen many battles together and, with the Lady’s blessing, see many more.
“Indeed,” Galen nodded. “Signal prayers. Any longer and the greenskins will be upon us.”
“Aye, sir.” Armand raised the battle standard, waved it in a circular motion, then sunk to one knee. All along the battle line knights dismounted and knelt beside their warhorses. The clamor of cursing orcs and screeching goblins was contrasted markedly by the complete silence amongst the Bretonnian ranks. A few moments later the knights arose as one and mounted their steeds.
“The Lady be with you, Armand,” Galen said quietly as his friend mounted up. “And do not let Lady Arenne come to harm.”
“I pledge my life she will be safe,” Armand replied. “Would that Lady Gabrielle would accept the protection of the knights.”
Galen sighed. “I have long since despaired of winning that argument. But she has always been careful, in spite of her independence.”
“Of course,” Armand smiled. “Until the battle is won then, my Lord.” Hoisting aloft the standard, Armand galloped down the line to take his place with Lady Arenne and the rest of the grail knights forming up on the left flank of the Earl’s men-at-arms, who held the central position in the line. Galen looked to his left and surveyed the formation of knights of the realm, guarding the right flank of the men-at-arms. He and Lady Gabrielle held a position to the far right flank. Sir Leon and his other scouts from Parravon deployed farther still, the pegasus knights perched picturesquely on a tall, rocky crag.
His own pegasus, Isabeau, flapped her wings impatiently. She had been a gift from the Duke of Parravon several years ago after Galen had personally led an army to Parravon’s defense when the realm was besieged by beastmen. Though he sometimes still favored his old warhorse Gaspard, Isabeau was unmatched in the mountain terrain.
“Here they come!” came the shout from Sir Jules. Galen looked up to see movement among the greenskins, though it appears that much of the orcs’ main line was fighting amongst themselves. Only a unit of trolls on the right flank, a large mob of night goblins and a giant on the left flank seemed to be advancing. Behind the orc units, seated on a vicious-looking wyvern, was their leader. He remained immobile, surveying the progress of his troops from his vantage on a low hill. Next to him was a large pile of stones, the cairn of some long-forgotten chieftain perhaps.
“Shields up!” cried from Sir Jules as the goblin-manned war machines unleashed a volley. A huge boulder crashed into the ground a short distance from the knights, and two large bolts clattered harmlessly against the crag below the pegasus knights. To his credit Sir Leon and his men held their silence. It was unseemly, Galen felt, to taunt one’s enemy. Even greenskins.
“Sound the advance!” Galen shouted. Immediately musicians all along the battle line took up the signal. As one the Bretonnian forces moved into action. The ground vibrated as the hooves of warhorses churned the turf. Isabeau stamped impatiently, and the grail knight patted her neck. “Steady, girl. Our work is elsewhere.”
Galen waited as the units moved forward, then spurred the pegasus into the air. With night goblins, a giant, and the orc general all threatening the left flank, a shift in the balance was needed. Isabeau surged gracefully over the mass of scrub the Bretonnians had selected as their mustering point and touched down behind the advancing line between the grail knights and the bowmen. As the pegasus flew a flock of crows, magically summoned by Gabrielle, swooped in at the advancing trolls, only to be scattered by a magical burst from somewhere within the greenskin ranks. The orcs had brought wizards of their own.
But whatever magics the greenskins had brought, they weren’t enough. As the general wheeled his mount around to survey the battlefield anew, a thicket near the giant exploded with a furious storm of sticks and limbs. The giant, caught off guard by the sudden assault, stumbled and clumsily tried to ward off the attack with its arms As the air cleared Galen could see the giant was bleeding from several places and advancing much more carefully.
In front of him the bowmen unleashed a volley of arrows into the hoard of night goblins across the meadow. If any found their mark it was difficult to tell, the goblins were so strong in number. Galen was proud of his commoners. He could sense their concern at the advancing giant, but so far no one was shrinking from the fight.
The general focused on the scene before him. The trolls, evidently dazzled by the display of magic, were trundling along aimlessly, gazing stupidly skyward. One of the orc units had finally sorted itself out and was starting to advance, but the other unit was still wracked with some sort of internal rivalry.
With a shriek the night goblins surged suddenly forward, as if trying to beat their counterparts to the attack. The grail knights had been cautiously watching their advance, but hadn’t anticipated this sudden display of eagerness. Before they had time to react, three whirling figures sprang from the goblin ranks. Galen had seen fanatics before, and subconsciously held his breath.
One fanatic veered directly for the grail knights. The disciplined horsemen spread their formation to let the fanatic plow through, though Galen thought he saw the fanatic’s iron ball bounce off of several shields as it passed. In the end only one knight went down, his horse felled from beneath him. Galen breathed his silent thanks to the Lady.
Another fanatic spiraled toward the bowmen, who seemed transfixed to the spot, but the crazed goblin seemed to lose momentum. Perhaps the strain would kill him before he reached his target. A third fanatic moved slowly toward the grail knights. Galen tore his attention away to the rest of the field. An orc boss had ridden out on a large, ugly boar and was spurring the trolls forward again. The air sizzled with magic, but Galen could not see anything happen in response. The damsels of the Lady seemed to have matters well in hand.
The war machines, having reloaded, opened fire again. The pegasus knights had flown to a position far to the right flank from which to strike at the war machines, but one bolt thrower spotted their approach and fired. The shot was a little too panicked, and the bolt buried itself in the ground a stone’s throw from the knights. The other bolt thrower took aim on the grail knights, impaling one of the knights and throwing him from the saddle. Galen choked back his anger at the cowardly machines.
As he did so the goblins’ catapult let fly with another stone. For a moment it too seemed to be arcing straight toward the grail knights, but instead it landed near the front rank of men-at-arms. One halberdier succumbed to the flying shards of rock, but the rest near the impact seemed uninjured. Galen sighed. All things considered, their casualties so far were surprisingly light. Soon the pegasus knights would eliminate the greenskins’ artillery and even the odds.
A shout from Sir Armand brought the general’s attention back to the battle shaping up nearby. The fanatics were still at large, and several were well within range of himself. It was time to move again. Spotting an outcropping of rock to the left side of the battlefield, he sent Isabeau skyward. He would be safer there, and would be well positioned to charge any unprotected flanks the orcs might reveal.
Sir Armand seemed to have a similar idea. At his signal the grail knights charged, racing toward the greenskin lines and narrowly avoiding the fanatic that had been spinning their direction. The knights of the realm, he saw, were launching a charge of their own, thundering toward the trolls. Then the battlefield fell away and he could see no more. Isabeau found a safe landing spot atop the cliff, and Galen carefully turned his mount around to view the battle.
It took a moment to make sense of the scene before him. The pegasus knights, it appeared, had overrun the crew of one bolt thrower and driven off the crew of the catapult. The knights of the realm were holding their horses back as the trolls ran away along the bend in the river. Some of the knights seemed to be covered in some sort of foul liquid.
Just then the remaining bolt thrower fired at the knights, who presented a tempting target all alone in the middle of the battlefield. Galen cringed. The foremost knight ducked behind and under his shield as the projectile hit, managing miraculously to deflect it harmlessly skyward. The Lady was still with them.
The grail knights were practically alone below the hill on which the orc general stood. The unit of orcs they had charged lay dead—one large concentration of bodies where Galen guessed the two units had met, and the rest scattered over a short distance across the field. The other orc unit and the night goblins were in a panic trying to get away from the menacing knights. The giant seemed unconcerned, and for the first time Galen noticed a goblin boss riding a wolf and staying close behind the giant.
The orc general was bawling with rage—Galen could even hear him from this distance—and gesticulating madly at his retreating units. Suddenly he spurred the wyvern into the air and swooped down upon the grail knights, bellowing a challenge. The fleeing night goblins rushed past the goblin boss, who also panicked and fled in the same direction. Meanwhile, Galen could see the trolls and the remaining orc unit rally, regaining their courage once they’d put some distance between themselves and the Bretonnian onslaught.
Then he remembered the fanatics. He looked just in time to see one fanatic spin into the scrub where the Bretonnians had formed their battle line. The whirring mace glanced off of trees and ricocheted into the goblin’s skull with a horrific crunch. Another fanatic meandered across the battlefield in front of the bowmen, but the third crashed squarely through the middle of the commoners, scattering bowmen like ten-pins. Why they hadn’t seen it coming and shot the thing down before it had come close was beyond Galen’s comprehension. The villein commanding the unit deserved a week in the stocks for such incompetence—if he survived.
With a curse the general turned his attention back to the orc general. As the wyvern glided toward the grail knights, Sir Armand rode forward to meet the challenge. Galen looked on, his blood running cold with concern for his friend.
The orc warboss unleashed a savage flurry of blows with a savage-looking club while its wyvern mount snapped at Armand’s warhorse. The warboss’s first strike knocked the battle standard from Armand’s grip, shattering his arm. The orc’s remaining blows struck air, however. Rearing up to avoid the wyvern’s attack, the steed stumbled, rolling onto the ground. The fall may have saved the paladin’s life. The knight shook his head, then rolled to one side just as the wyvern’s tail lashed out, impaling the ground where the knight had just lain.
Bravely Sir Armand scrambled to his feet and picking up the fallen standard. His armor almost glowed as he strode intently toward the tremendous wyvern. The warboss, who had laughing triumphantly, fell silent. It’s hideous leer slipped away from its face. The puny human had taken the best he could throw and had only been unhorsed. The cold determination in the knight’s eyes, the ethereal glow of his armor, and the large phalanx of knights behind him filled the orc with dread.
Lashing out with the standard, Sir Armand drove the wyvern back from trying to dispatch his warhorse. The hideous black creature reared, and the orc general wheeled it around and fled back up the hill, taking cover behind the large rock cairn. The grail knights paused next to their comrade, who, finding his horse unscathed, remounted and rejoined his unit.
Galen sighed his relief, but even as he did so he noticed a new threat. The giant, unaffected by the fleeing night goblins, had turned its attention to the grail knights. Their flank was exposed, and the giant with its long stride could reach them easily before they would notice it. It was up to him to act. Spurring Isabeau into the air, he glided toward the giant, screaming a Gisoreux battle cry.
The giant turned slowly, confused somewhat by this new threat, and the pegasus’ hooves just missed its naked chest. Galen followed his steed’s hooves with his own sword, dealing the monstrous creature a terrible wound. Not hesitating to gauge the effect of his attack, Galen swung his sword twice more. The giant just stood there, a stunned look on its face. It’s eyes rolled back in its head, and it fell backward with a jarring crash.
The victorious knight quickly re-assessed the situation. While he had been engaged in charing the giant, the grail knights must have charged the remaining unit of orcs, who were fleeing at full speed into the distance. The knights of the realm had charged the trolls again and were still locked in clamorous combat.
Suddenly the general made out a single orc figure standing in the middle of the battlefield. It appeared to be a shaman of sorts. It must have been lurking between the two orc units, but now both units had been destroyed around it, leaving it exposed and vulnerable. But not harmless. Galen watched as it raised its staff and pointed it toward Lady Gabrielle. A swirl of glittering energy leapt from the shaman’s head and streaked toward the damsel, only to dissipate short of its target.
The orc tried again, and this time the attack struck true. Lady Gabrielle cried out in surprise, but quickly shook off the blow. A look of anger and determination crossed her face, and the shaman finally realized the precarious position it was in. It quickly turned and sought protection, ironically near the formation of grail knights, who were otherwise occupied and quite unaware of the orc.
Suddenly Galen heard a cry of victory—the cry of men. He looked in time to see the trolls fleeing yet again. This time the knights spurred their mounts to follow, easily cutting down the horrid creatures and the orc boss who had led them. The battle was indeed turning in the Bretonnians’ favor.
But another cry drew Galen’s attention. The warboss and its wyvern were still on the field, and more than a threat to any of the Bretonnian forces. Wheeling Isabeau toward the threat, and after a little difficulty, spurred the pegasus into charging the dread creature. The orc general bawled its eagerness for the confrontation.
Then the two met. Galen struck at the greenskin leader and his sword sped true, dealing the orc a vicious cut through its breastplate. His second attack severed the orc’s shield arm. But the orc didn’t seem to notice, and unleashed a flurry of blows with its club. It took all Galen’s strength to fend off the attacks.
Their mounts, too, fought furiously. The wyvern snapped its fierce jaws, reaching for Isabeau’s neck, but the steed dodged, taking a raking blow along her flank instead. Shrieking in pain, the noble creature reared up and lashed out with its hooves. The orc general tried to ward off the blow with its shield, remembering too late that he had lost that arm. A single hoof caved in the side of its skull. The orc slumped and fell from the wyvern’s back.
The wyvern shrieked, and for a moment Galen thought the very rocks would rend from the sound. Suddenly the reptilian monster’s barbed tail whipped toward the knight. Galen threw up his shield and just barely blocked the razor-sharp barb in time. Then, just as suddenly, the monster turned and fled up the mountain side. The orc general lay dead at Isabeau’s feet.
The next thing the Earl of Chabreux noticed was that it was quiet. Turning back to the battlefield, he tried to piece together what had transpired. The last of the night goblins were clambering off into the distance. The goblin boss lay buried beneath a pile of limbs and branches, undoubtedly more of Lady Arenne’s handiwork. The orc shaman lay dead, the pegasus knights examining the body—and taking trophies, no doubt.
Quickly Galen took an accounting of his forces and was surprised to find the casualties were few. Their victory had been thorough, and miraculously one-sided. The Lady had smiled upon them.
Galen searched around and found Armand. Near the base of the hill Lady Arenne was already tending his broken arm, placing it in a sling for now. Later she would set it more precisely and invoke the appropriate healing spells to speed its mending. Sir Armand felt his friend’s gaze and looked up. He read his Lordship’s expression and knew instantly, without words, what should come next.
Pushing Lady Arenne gently aside for the moment, he took up the standard once again with his good arm. He said a few words to the unit’s trumpeter, and soon the signal was winded. Across the battlefield the Bretonnian warriors, both noble and common, knelt together and offered their thanks to the Lady for their preservation and the preservation of their lands.
Bretonnian Army – 1999 pts.
Lord General (Earl Galen du Chambeux) - 291
Grail vow, heavy armor, shield,
Virtue of Audacity
Sword of the Lady’s Champion
Gromril Great Helm
Royal Pegasus
Paladin Battle Standard Bearer (Sir Armand) – 151
Grail vow, heavy armor, lance
Virtue of the Joust
Mane of the Purebreed
Fielded with Grail Knights
Damsel of the Lady (Lady Arenne) – 169
Level 2 sorceress
Barded warhorse
Silver Mirror
Potion Sacre
Fielded with Grail Knights
Damsel of the Lady (Lady Gabrielle) – 129
Level 1 sorceress
Barded warhorse
Chalice of Malfleur
Dispel Scroll
Paladin (Sir Dressard, aka Sir Not-Appearing-In-This-Picture) – 100
Knight’s vow, heavy armor
Virtue of Empathy
Enchanted Shield
Sword of Might
Fielded with Men-at-arms
Grail Knights x 9 – 422
Musician, standard
Valorous Standard
Knights of the Realm x 9 - 265
Gallant (Sir Jules)
Musician, standard
Twilight banner
Pegasus Knights x 4 - 220
Gallant (Sir Leon)
Men-at-arms x 19 - 122
Shield, light armor, halberd
Musician, standard
Yeoman Warden
Peasant Bowmen x 15 - 130
Skirmish, braziers
Villein
Orc Army – 1995 pts.
Orc Warboss General – 468
Shield
Wyvern
Krumpa’s Club of Krumpin’
Armor of Mork
Orc Big Boss – 114
Light armor, shield
Hacka’s Sword of Hackin’
Warboar
Goblin Big Boss – 99
Light armor, spear
Ironskin shield
Wolf
Orc Shaman – 150
Level 2
Ditto’s Double-Doin’ Doo-Dads
Power Stone
Orc Big Un’s x 20 - 258
Light armor, shield, spears
Musician, standard
Boss
Gork’s Waagh Banner
Orc Boyz x 20 – 188
2d hand weapon, shield
Musician, standard
Boss
Night Goblins x 40 – 223
Standard
3x fanatics
6x netters
Boss
Goblin Spear Chukka x 2 – 70
Goblin Rock Lobber – 70
Trolls x 3 – 150
Giant - 205