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Game Summary - 06/25/2010.

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Game Summary - 06/25/2010

Our group consisted of:

* Arre, Thad's Melnibonean alchemist archer
* Aurelius, Rich O's graeco-egyptian sorceror charioteer
* Baclane - Mark's master of horses
* Felcia Shadowclaw, Dave’s hunter Sidhe from the Unseelie Court, who follows Fladais the Huntress, who has been guarding the camp.
* Grumfar, Rich F's minotaur, who is sworn to the service of the Morrigan
* Lysteria, Bob’s Sidhe from the Unseelie courts who follows Sholto, the Sidhe Lord of the High Hunt
* Namon Pferd, Tony’s Sidhe from the Unseelie courts who follows Essus the Just, Prince of Flesh and Flame (brother to Andais, The Queen of Air and Darkness, ruler of the Unseelie Courts.)
* Nick the Greek –Scott’s Byzantine cataphract (disciplined, well armored horse archer)
* Palanar - Leon's Maat/Humakti Arkati sorcerer
* Thorgrim Seastrider, Dwayne’s Norse ship captain, follower of Thor, son of Odin, Wielder of the hammer Mjolnir, Slayer of Giants and Lord of the Thunderstorm (Thor that is, not Dwayne)
* Keith’s Argan Argar Troll, who has left Constantinople in order to enjoy the sunny shores of the Baltic

Please note that everyone from the Unseelie Courts takes double damage from iron.

People of Note:

Allies and Friends

Cedric, Saxon champion and rebel claimant to the throne of Wessex, who makes the party's acquaintance in the middle of the English Channel.

Carolus Magnus, Charlemagne, Father of Europe, Emperor of the Empire Renewed, etc, etc...

Roland, First of the Paladins who serve Charlemagne (who is Roland's uncle)

Oliver, Paladin, best friend and companion of Roland

Duke Astolph, mage, protege of Merlin, the only English Paladin in Charlemagne's court.  Next to certain members of the party, he is the greatest personal enemy Malachi has, having just recently made his way into the Castle of Iron in stealth and stolen the cream of Malachi's prize menagerie: a griffin, a hippogryf and one of the giant Eagles of the Atlas mountains.

Merlinus Ambrosius: you knew he had to be around here somewhere.

Enemies, Threats to Western Civilization and All around Bad People

Malachi, Mage of the Castle of Iron, Sorcerer and Master of Moorish Spain, also called the Curse of Hispania, also called Cidi Atlantes (Lord of the Atlantic or West) one of the 3 great lords who rule the Muslim world.

Lord Roger (Rogrant), nephew of Malachi, champion of Islam in Spain, who is doomed to be lost to Islam if he fails to meet the terms of an obscure prophecy.

The Emir of North Africa - ruler of northern Africa from Cyrenica to the Atlantic, currently contesting the island of Sicily.  He wears the armor of Hector and seeks the sword Durandal, which was Hector's as well, and is now  wielded by Roland.

Asshurbanipal - Dread Lord of the Muslim world from Cyrenica in western Egypt to western India, current Guardian of Mecca and Medina, known to be able to summon demons, believed to be thousands of years old.  Eats kittens.

Cunctator, dragon, child of Ladon, called Sire of Wyverns

Synopsis

When last we left the party, it was January of 813.

The party and their henchmen spend the winter months  working on the ship frame and hull to ready it for launching in the spring.  As the Viking workers become more familiar with the ship's design, they become more excited: this is not just the biggest ship any of them has ever heard of, it will be the greatest ship ever built for exploration or war.  The internal bracing of the ship structure indicates that the designer expected to fight her and he knew things about ship design that the Vikings never dreamed of.  They begin to fall in love with the craft taking shape under their hands, and before the winter ends, it is not THE ship or YOUR ship, but OUR ship.

As the days lengthen, you begin preparations for the launching of the ship.  The ways are braced and you ready barrels of lard with which to grease them to ease the ship's slide into the bay.  It is at this point, one of the Vikings brings up the old tradition (not used in many years) of binding a human sacrifice and placing them on the ways to be crushed as the ship launches, to appease Ran, goddess of the sea.

The party discusses this, and decides to make another type of sacrifice to launch their ship: a sacrifice of their own blood and power.  When this is explained to the henchmen, the Wends shrink back in superstitious fear, but the Vikings are all for it.

After a short (but intense) bidding war amongst the party to see who will lose the most power, Thorgrim steps forward to lead the ceremony to launch the ship.  It is a great success, and the blood and power put into the ceremony bonds with the blood and magic that Barinthis enchanted into the ship's keel.  This will have unforseen consequences.

The launch is successful, and Liafail III sets sail for the first time.  The locals are in awe as the ship begins to take on a life of its own as it is loaded with ballast and fitted with its sails.  The last touch is the carving and mounting of the figurehead, just below the dragon prow.  Grumfar outdoes himself and creates a masterpiece of woodwork, so much like the image in the ship's plans that people half expect it to speak.  The figure head is painted to resemble life,  and then it's robes are painted a deep purple, the imperial purple known the world over as a mark of royalty. The ship is ready for its maiden voyage.

Initial voyage

Your ship's first voyage is just a shakedown run up the east coast of Denmark, but you run into a little trouble, very little actually.  You have about 150 men to crew the weapons and man the oars and rig the sails.  This is the bare minimum to fight your ship.  The long range weapons are not functional yet, but the arrow engines are in place and fully loaded, and your crews are itching to try them out on a real target.  So when the lookout (Baclane, who seems oddly at home in the crow's nest) spots four sails to your north, you head straight for them.  These are vessels in the service of the new king of Greater Sweden, and the sight of your ship is quite a surprise.  What is even more surprising is the range and effectiveness of your arrow engines; two of the four ships are rendered helpless, their crews dead or dying in a few volleys, long before they could threaten your crew or ship.  The other two ships panic and make a run for the coast.  They ground their vessels and flee inland.

You turn about and head for home.  Upon your arrival, you notice that messengers from the court of Charlemagne have arrived.  It is one Fulk Campscapel, one of the Emperor's favorite captains; his following includes half a dozen Frankish knights and about two dozen men-at-arms.  He brings news: the emperor has decided to do something about Spain, now that his eastern borders are quiet.  He has summoned his lords and their forces and is leading them and the imperial guard south to the Pyrenees.  When the passes are open, he will push south and begin his campaign to put the Sorcerer Malachi in his place.  Preferably, in one of the circles of hell.  The party is cordially invited to join the emperor.

This sounds good to you, and you make plans to sail to the north coast of Hispania.  This will involve sailing around Denmark, which means running the narrow passages of the Skaggerak, in the teeth of the Swedish naval forces.  Then southwest past the pirate dens of the Frisian lowlands and into the English Channel, the single most dangerous stretch of water in the known world.  At any time of year, you might encounter Viking longships, Frisian pirates, Saxon cogs, Frankish barges and black-sailed Moorish raiders; in early summer, it might as well be  open-season on anything that floats.

Sir Fulk requests that he and his men be allowed to join you.  This would be faster than riding to Spain, and the prospect of fighting ALL of the empire's enemies in one trip is too much for the Frankish knights to resist; they even has some vacation time coming.   You accept; the Franks won't be much good rowing, but they'll make excellent marines: they are heavily armored, well armed and can fight in formation when not on horseback.

You finish loading supplies and ammunition and succeed in completing the aft long gun.  Then you set sail for Hispania and Charlemagne's army.  Your voyage north to the tip of Denmark is a bit dull; not many ships in sight and they flee at the sight of your sails.  You can see storm clouds gathering to your east as you enter the Skaggerak and the storm seems to follow you, filling your sails and speeding your way.  You make better time than you expected, and perhaps that is why you are able to take the fleets the Swedes have assembled by surprise.  The first battle is when half dozen longships make an attempt to take you ship from either side as it passes through a narrow place, but that plan falls to pieces under the withering fire from your arrow engines.

The second battle is more of a challenge.  Hrolf the Golden (oldest son of Torvald, king of Sweden and what is now Norway and much of Finland) was in the process of assembling a great fleet to begin pressing Torvald's claim to Denmark; he is more than happy to divert his efforts to destroying you and your ship.  Unfortunately for him, you have arrived before he is quite ready.  His forces consist of 30 ships: 29 Viking longships and the royal flagship, which is modeled more on a Frankish barge than a typical longship. This means 30 ships and approximately 1600 Vikings versus you, your crew and Liafail.

The range of your arrow engines is far greater than the bows of the Vikings, and the damage done by your one catapult is devastating at any range.  You sweep down the length of the assembled fleet, and your missile fire litters the decks of half a dozen longships with the dead and dying; several are set afire.  The Vikings are slow to react: they have never even heard of a ship as big as the Liafail outside of legends, and the storm that is almost upon them is driving your vessel faster than anyone could have anticipated.  The purple sails and paint, the beating oars, the glint of gold leaf and the flash of movement in the dragonheaded prow all seem to be something made by the gods, and a superstitious dread grips half of the Viking fleet.  You make good on that threat: the closer the Vikings get, the more lethal your arrow fire is.  At close range (50 meters or less) each engine can send 12 arrows through wicker or wood shields and more and more ships either fall behind or start to drift, lacking enough hands to keep up.

The western end of the Viking fleet manages to curve out ahead of you and attempt to block your path and board you from either side.  This fails to do more than slow you down; you ram the middle vessel and such is the size and speed of the Liafail that you roll the longship over and tread it under your ship's keel.  That ship and all aboard are lost, gone forever to the bottom of the channel, and the ships on either side are brushed aside, oars splintered, their boarders cut down or thrown overboard by your marines. The Vikings begin to hesitate; the prince sounds his battle horn to rally them, and you concentrate fire on the royal flagship.

Your marksmen start dropping anyone who looks like an officer or nobleman, and your aft catapult puts a smoking lead ball in amongst the rowers.  The ship catches fire and all hands must be set to fighting it.  You pull away from what is left of the Viking fleet: 1/3 third of the fleet is on fire or adrift, and the percentage of dead and wounded is even greater.  On the flagship, you have wounded both the crown prince of Sweden and his admiral, and killed or wounded every single one of his personal guard.

You have made an enemy (correction: another enemy).  But who keeps count of those things.

Your ship rounds the northern tip of Jutland and heads south along the Frisian coast, towards the channel between Gaul and Britain. You have sustained a certain amount of damage, you've run through half of your arrows and you're leaking below the water line from the shock of the impact when you ran over that Viking ship, but the Liafail II is still probably the fastest ship afloat.

The Frisian lowlands have been a breeding ground for pirates for more than a 1000 years, but they keep close to their dens when you sail past.  Rumors have preceded you, rumors that a great dragon has come out of the east, leaving the Baltic fleets afire and awash in their crews' blood.  Pirates don't make it rich by attacking the strongest enemy they can find; it makes more sense to them to lay low and then follow you, to see what pickings there might be in your wake.  The Channel is quiet for this time of year: no Frisians, no Moorish raiders, no Vikings, and the Franks have pulled in their patrols due to the movement of troops to support the war effort in Hispania.  Only the Saxons are out in force, with the Saxon king  of Wessex mustering every ship he can float. You don't know if he's planning a raid of the Frankish coast or trying to take you or just out for a nice afternoon's cruise, and you really don't care.  The horns of the deck decurions sound: All hands to battle!

Battle on the Low Seas

When your ship enters the channel, they discover a massed Saxon fleet hugging the British coast, apparently wary of being caught between you and any Frankish barges that might venture out from the eastern shore.  Most of the Saxon ships stay in shore, apparently in hopes of luring the Liafail into shallow water, but a few venture within range, and your sharp shooters start thinning the ranks of the warriors on their decks.  One big nobleman draws you attention by roaring curses and shaking his greatsword at you; someone (either Baclane or Arre) puts an arrow into his groin.  And he pulls it out and shakes it at you!  Some of the Saxon ships are disabled before they can get much closer, but 3 get close enough to hurl grapnels at your ship.  The big man you shot makes the best throw, and hooks his grapnel at the stern; he underestimates your ship's speed (and the effectiveness of the other grapnels) and is yanked off the deck of his ship as the Liafail speeds past.

You cut the lines of almost all of the grapnels that landed on deck with no Saxon ships being able to grapple you, but when you reach the last grapnel at the stern, you realize that your ship is dragging something behind it.

Suddenly, the big Saxon emerges from the channel, climbing hand over hand up the line to your ship.  You let him board, and as he looks around, he comes to a decision.  He tells you that he is Cedric, rightful heir to the throne of Saxon Wessex.  He must prove himself to be a great fighter and a great warleader if he is to stand a chance of attracting enough support to win the throne when old king Harald dies, so he asks you to either kill him in battle or take him on board to make his fortune with you as a member of your crew.  You like his style, so you take him on.

You make your way to the coast of Aquitaine, to the old roman port city of Burgdalia (Bordeaux) to make repairs and lay in supplies.  While you are in port, Namon goes inland and returns with an acquaintance (of sorts)  It is a brownie, an outcast from the Seelie Court.  Like all brownies, he is good at repairing things; unlike most of his kind, he is not afraid of the sea, and is willing to join you.  He settles into the bottom deck of the ship and begins to make himself at home.  He helps you get the fore cannon into operation, and soon he is brewing up something alcoholic in a portable still, while he works on making the Liafail watertight again.

You continue south along across the Bay of Biscay, and soon sight the flags of the Frankish army just south of the Pyrenees, in what will become Navarre.  Charlemagne is encamped NE of one of Malachi's local strongholds: a fortified port with a hilltop citadel overlooking its harbor, the western anchor of the Muslim wizard's defensive line, near what is now San Sebastian.  You go ashore to met with the Emperor, and find that Roland and Oliver are leading most of the imperial cavalry in a raid in force along the southern flank of the Pyrenees.
He is rumored to have smashed most of Malachi's forces in northern Hispania and has penetrated all the way to the Mediterranean sea.   You confer with Charlemagne and he asks to you help him take the nearby port; he cannot afford to leave it untaken in his army's rear, and there are rumors that the citadel above the port is home to one of Malachi's chief henchmen, a sorceress who accepts only Malachi as her superior in between the Pyrenees and the Atlas mountains.   With both siege engines working, you decide to attack from the sea.  You slip out to sea that night, when the clouds mask the moon.

You scout the port from the sea and note that all of the shipping in the bay has been withdrawn into the inner harbor just beneath the peak that the citadel sits on.  The towering keep that tops the citadel is hundreds of feet above the waters of the harbor, and as the sun rises, a cloud of winged creatures erupts from that tower and swoop down upon you.  It is a flock of efreets, 40 of the inhuman servants of Malachi who you have fought in the past, and who hate and fear you above all of their master's enemies.   They dive upon you dropping rocks and they seek to pull any of your crew that they can into the air or over the side.  This hail of rocks a big as a man's head damage one of your arrow engines and wrecks the aft siege engine, but you drive them back.  Suddenly, Baclane (who for some reason insists on perching in the crow's nest atop the main mast) sights a robed figure on the tower who wields a staff and enclosed in a magical aura: Malachi's servant, who is either directing the efreets or strengthening them with magic.  The party boosts Baclane's next shot with all the magic they can, he draws a steady bead on his target and his shot strikes even truer than he had hoped: it pierces the hand of the mage and shatters her staff.  It explodes and she is engulfed in a ball of fire.  She plummets from the tower trailing smoke and flame, to crash into the deck of one of the ships below.  That ship catches fire and ignites others around it; the smoke, flames and sparks from that inferno are drawn into the cave underneath the peak, and up into the tunnels beneath the citadel.  The smoke and heat drive the defenders out of the old roman fort, and the town falls to Charlemagne.

The emperor is delighted and wants to speak to the party; after all, what is the traditional reward for a job well done?  Another job.

After receiving the congratulations of the emperor and the captains of the Frankish empire, Charlemagne asks for your aid with another task.  A problem, actually, by the name of Rogrant, said to  be nephew of Malachi, called Lord Roger by the Christian bards.  He is the champion of Muslim Hispania, the general of his uncle's army  and the main reason why the Emir of North Africa can't seem to get any armies past Gibraltar.  He is said to be Roland's equal in a fight, but there is a prophecy that if ever he meets his true love, he will be lost to Islam forever.  Malachi seems to believe this prophecy, for he will not let his nephew lead any campaigns into non-Muslim territory, and indeed keeps him penned up in Malachi's stronghold, the Iron Castle, whenever he isn't actually fighting.

Charlemagne has had agents searching for the one who might be Rogrant's true love, and he thinks one of his agents has found her.

The problem is, Malachi seems to suspect her location as well, and she must be brought to Charlemagne's camp safely as soon as possible.  The emperor asks you to go west along the coast to the NW corner of the peninsula, to that portion of Iberia that never fell to the armies of Islam, and seek out his agent and this girl, who is named Britomart.

The party agrees and soon puts to sea and sails west to Galicia, the land of the celt-iberian tribes who fought Rome and Carthage with equal ferocity, and who have not bowed to a foreign king since the death of the last Caesar.  You have been here before, 50 years ago, and you know that while most of the tribes are Christian, some still hold to the old ways, and there is at least 1 shrine to the Morrigan deep in tribal territory.

You bring the ship inshore near a fishing village, and your party heads south, leaving the crew to repair the damage done by the efreets with their rocks, and the brownie begins working on the wrecked siege engine.  The land looks very much like it did 50 years ago, and every once and a while you see a white-bearded farmer stop and look at you strangely, almost as if they remember you.  You travel south until you approach what is now Portuguese territory, in the hills near the shrine to the Morrigan.  This is the stronghold of the pagan tribes who still follow the old celt-iberian deities, and you encounter a group of warriors who direct you to the hilltop fortress that overlooks the territory claimed by Malachi.  As you approach this fort, you realize that it is magically warded, and the wards are very old.  You look down on the plain below you and you can see Muslim banners off in the distance to your left, right and ahead of you.  You are at the tip of the spear that the hill tribes have aimed at the old sorceror's territory.  There you find the paladin Reinald, a garrison of veteran warriors and chieftains, and one beautiful girl, Britomart.

She is still in her teens, but there is something impressive about her; she is a respected priestess and a skilled healer, and something of a good luck charm: the tribesmen say that they have never lost a battle if she is behind them bringing them the favor of the old gods.  Reinald looks too worried to be impressed; he is the most cunning of Charlemagne's paladins, and well-versed in the languages of the Moors, even the tongue of the Berbers of north Africa.  He says that when scouting the enemy forces, he has heard them speak of Malachi's new ally, someone who the old mage has awakened, and whoever it is, he has the rank and file soldiers in the Muslim army terrified.  Reinald wants nothing more than to get this pretty child out of here and back to his emperor, but she won't leave and he cannot force her to go.  When asked why she will not leave, she says that she is waiting for a champion of the old gods, a warrior marked by a god of war and battle to guide and guard her.  If she leaves with anyone else, she (and they) will die.  Enter the party, which contains more than one warrior marked by an deity of war; she recognizes this, and she will go with you north to the coast, to board this ship that is too big to be true, and go see the Golden Lord of the Franks.

She thinks you should leave immediately, the Celts salute her and you, and start gathering their forces; if the Emperor of the Franks can break the back of Malachi's forces and drop the magical shield protecting his personal domain, the tribes will come down out of their hills and strike where they can.

You are no more than 2 miles from the fort when you feel a familiar sensation: you feel that something is following you, looking for you and it means you harm.  You're being hunted, again.  You prepare for battle and then you are attacked by a flock of wyverns, but not the Lunar-bred wyverns you are familiar with; the power of the Red Moon has been driven from this world.  These wyverns are different, bigger but a little less intelligent perhaps.  They attack in a roaring rush, and behind them, driving them on is an even larger monster, a cold drake with the same coloration and scale patterns as the wyverns: it is Cunctator, Sire of Wyverns, called the Delayer by the Romans due to his habit of laying waste to the countryside in order to delay any pursuing army.  Cunctator is one of the children of Ladon, the hydra that guarded the golden apples of the Hesperides, and he has been asleep since the time of Justinian; somehow Malachi found his lair, woke him up and made some kind of bargain with him.

This brute is a full grown cold drake: wingless, but bigger than a house and faster than a horse.  Cold drakes have no breath weapon, but rely on strength, speed and an armored hide that is tougher and thicker than the finest steel plate.   He has jaws that can rip a horse in half, talons that gouge granite and a spiked tail that is a match for any battering ram; Cunctator has been fighting human armies (and winning) for almost 2000 years.  Now, it's your turn.

The party rips through the wyverns in short order, with Arre and Baclane each killing more than one wyvern, but then the cold drake is upon you and the battle starts to go badly.  Grumfar takes the brunt of the first attack, with Reinald trying to circle and strike from behind, but Cunctator is not only big and strong, he's experienced as well, and more and more fall before him.  You heal, but the wounds are devastating and the cost in magic is immense.  Then the drake catches Grumfar with the full force of a gigantic claw and the minotaur is killed by a blow that would have slain a giant!  This is bad news, the minotaur has been sucking up a great deal of the attacks and the damage dealt out by the dragon, and the rest of the party is in bad shape.  Grumfar asks the Morrigan for a favor in a plea for divine intervention: Return me to the battle so that I may defeat this enemy in your name!

And the Morrigan answers him. She is the goddess of Battle and she despises those who would leave a fight before victory, but she is a goddess of death and war, not life or healing.  She returns him to the battle as a mummy, a berzerk undead champion; and it is Grumfar who deals the blow that slays the dragon, piercing the terribly thick scales and splintering Cunctator's bones.

Still berzerk, the minotaur turns on the party, and it is only with a great deal of luck that he is kept from slaughtering half the party.  Britomart attempts divine intervention herself in order to return Grumfar to life but fails; this troubles her a great deal.  Grumfar finally falls, but he is a Dragonslayer and the greatest champion of the Morrigan in living memory.  The party strips the dragon of anything of value and returns to the ship with Britomart and the body of their dead friend.  You set sail and return to the port that is now Charlemagne's headquarters, and introduce Britomart to the emperor.

When she is told of this plan to take Lord Rogrant away from the Muslim forces and out of battle, she is taken aback, but Charlemagne assures her that if the prophecy is true, and she is Rogrant's true love, then he is her true love and they are meant to be together.  She seems to be a bit doubtful about all of this and asks "Well, what if the prophecy isn't true, and this doesn't work?"

Reinald and the other paladins draw their swords and Charlemagne says "Then we'll just have to take him out the regular way."

The next day, the army begins its march east and south, to meet up with the expedition lead by Roland and Oliver.  They have succeeded in beating Malachi's forces in the north and driving them south into the area in central Hispania that is guarded by a protective spell that Malachi has erected along the border between his personal domain and those of his vassals.   This barrier has proven impenetrable in the past, but the emperor has had the greatest minds in the West working on a way to breach it; and with the party's help, they succeed.  The Frankish army pours into the personal demesne of Malachi and are almost within sight of the Castle of Iron itself, but you must first deal with the Guardian of the North.

It is a greater Sphinx, much farther west than any sphinx should be, but Malachi has bound it here and set it to guard his northern border.  You defeat the sphinx, but it recognizes Aurelius and speaks a warning to him before it flees.

Charlemagne expects to have to deal with Malachi's troops after this, and forms up his army: he offers your group command of the infantry in the center, while Roland leads the cavalry on the right flank and Oliver on the left.  You lead the army forward and soon spot a dust cloud to the south: enemy horsemen, thousands of them.  It is Malachi's main cavalry force, and they are coming north at a gallop.  Ahead of the dust cloud, you spy something flying towards you, low to the ground, with a single horseman in close pursuit.  As it comes closer, the winged creature is seen to be a griffin with a rider, and the rider is taunting the horseman.  When they reach your line, the griffin swoops over you and your troops and the rider waves his hat in salute.  You have never met him, and he is dressed in a strange fashion, but this could only be Duke Astolph, the only Briton among Charlemagne's paladins.

He is a protege of Merlin and is both a mage and a warrior; in the Frankish camp, you have heard the tales of how he snuck into the Castle of Iron on the night of the Spring Equinox and managed to steal three of Malachi's most prized possessions from his magical menagerie: the griffin, a hippogriff and one of the giant Eagles of the Atlas Mountains. Next to your group, Astolph is the most bitter personal enemy that Malachi has, and one of the luckiest.  He deliberately returned to the Castle of Iron on the griffin to goad Malachi into doing something rash, and he succeeded beyond any expectation: he escaped alive (barely), incited the Moorish cavalry into headlong pursuit, separated the horsemen from their infantry support, and separated Rogrant from his followers with just enough lead time for you to introduce him to Britomart.  The rest is up to you and her.

Rogrant pulls up out of bowshot (normal bows, that is) and looks over your line.  There is something about him that reminds you of Roland.  He waves his sword at you and shouts "Another time", and is about to wheel his horse to rejoin his men, when you step aside and reveal Britomart on a white horse.  And a magic as powerful as any you have ever seen takes effect.  Britomart gasps, and Rogrant stops in his tracks, his sword hand limp at his side.  He pulls off his helmet and both of them walk their horses towards each other.  They do not see anything else but each other; they are each other's true love and now will never be parted while both live.  Your party begins to move your infantry around the pair, and this is what the pursuing Moorish cavalry see when they come up: the prophecy fulfilled, Rogrant lost to Islam forever and your troops closing ranks around the lovers, cutting Roger off from any chance of rescue.  And that is when Charlemagne closes the trap.

Roland and Oliver launch the Frankish cavalry against the Moorish flanks and rear and they break.  Competently lead, the Moorish horse are more maneuverable than the franks and are deadly horse archers and javelin men who dangerous fighters.  But now they have no leader, no infantry support, are being attacked on both flanks and have just seen their greatest champion taken from them.  They're feel doomed and they try to run, but too late.  Malachi's troops are more lightly armored than the franks, and the imperial knights tear through the moors in flying wedges that trample the fallen under foot.  Less than a thousand of the 6000 that followed Roger north manage to escape the trap and flee. They pass the Moorish infantry that is just starting to come into view, and keep running.  The infantry commander takes on look at the victorious Franks bearing down on him, realizes that Roger has been lost and decides to go down fighting rather than face the terrible old man in the castle behind him.  This commander leads a delaying force that tries to buy time for the rest of the infantry to withdraw back into the castle, but only partially succeeds.  Roland hacks the general down himself and his troops crush the delaying force, and Oliver leads his troops at the charge right into the rear of the retreating forces. They panic and the retreat becomes a rout, a screaming mob that start to jam into the castle gates, and Malachi closes the gates when barely a third of his troops have made it through.  The remaining infantry scatter, and those that make it out of missile range from the castle alive surrender to your troops.

Malachi's power appears to be broken.  Charlemagne has destroyed or scattered his standing army with the exception of those troops that made it into the castle.  Unless Malachi's allies can gather enough troops to break through the Frankish army, there is nothing to prevent a siege under Charlemagne's terms.  The emperor invests the Castle of Iron, keeping a wary distance, and the imperial infantry digs in.

The emperor gives you his thanks, again.  You have saved him a great deal of time, effort and men, and he appreciates this.  He is going to withdraw to Gaul for the coming winter; war has devastated the north of Hispania and he must take the bulk of the imperial cavalry, his knights and the Frankish nobility and their troops and march back to the empire for the winter. There is no way to feed them all south of the Pyrenees.  The siege train, most of the infantry and some light cavalry will remain to keep the siege, under the command of you and Reinald, with Astolph to aid you.  Roger and Britomart are going with the emperor, to be married in Aachen, they bid you farewell, and thank you for bringing them together.  They seem to be a bit dazed, but very happy.

The emperor names you all Friends of the Crown; this means that all of you have at least the same rank at court as any knight, and may call upon imperial resources as if you were Imperial Couriers.  The emperor and his court bid you farewell and leave for the march through the Pyrenees and home for the winter.

Roland and Oliver bid you goodbye as well; they would prefer to stay here with you and Reinald, but his uncle wants him at court and there's always the chance of war with the Swedes or the Saxons to liven things up.

You settle in for the winter.  It is now Autumn of 813 A.D.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:48, Mon 31 Jan 2011.
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