Haakon nodded.  "They must indeed not panic." He frowned and then the frown disappeared, leaving in its place a slowly spreading grin.  "We have only moments to do this", he said, "And yes, I'm probably crazy but if we can get that Warbeast running South, others might follow."  He watched as Cirostis hurled his axe at first one then another orc and then, his own axe in hand, he charged for the Warbeast on which Tugdual fought.  If an orc came into range, he would chop it down, if not, then he would keep going until he could climb onto and take control of the Warbeast, changing its direction and giving Tugdual and himself time to leap clear... at least that was the plan.

Watching Haakon is finally too much for Tawna.  Wereweasels as a rule do not prefer frontal attacks, even when odds favor them.  Too charge at an enemy that is so grossly beyond one’s capability… mind boggling.  After the “Dine in Valhalla” speech, now this… Something snaps and her self preservation instinct takes over, and she breaks away and transforms, and vanishes into the night.

Haakon advances, and perhaps it is just the warbeast’s agitated state that keeps Haakon alive, because he could easily be gored by the great tusks.  As close as they are, Haakon notices that the Huns have decided that tusks are not enough.  They have fixed massive metal blades to them, making the tusks long, serrated weapons that sweep like scythes.

Haakon also finds his armor sliced by two arrows, shot at him by the Orcs now on the ground around the warbeast.

Another arrow bounces off Cirostis’s armor, and one off his shield, as Cirostis hits the nearest of the Orcs.  The warbeast handler turns his animal towards Cirostis, and urges it forwards, and very rapidly closes the distance to Cirostis’s “if approached” radius.  Cirostis cannot get a good angle on the shaman from the ground- he probably can’t tell that there is a shaman up there.    And there’s such confusion up there, with the lion fighting… hard to tell what’s going on.  The Dwarf backs off to follow wherever the Elves went.

Haakon is faced with the awesome task of climbing up onto a moving, fighting warbeast that doesn’t have a convenient ladder.  He grabs at the ties of the great rope harness and pulls- but he doesn’t have an easy way up.  It will be a hard climb and the creature is swaying.

Ordinarily, the Orcs on top of a warbeast deal with “climbers” by using long spears, but things are a little… busy.   The one warbeast swings north while the others waddle past, still going east.  The shaman and the lion fight a vicious duel.  Neither gets the upper hand, and both are quickly bloodied and weak.

Aglan tries to round up the Elves and get some order going to the retreat.  The unexpectedly aggressive counterattack of Haakon and Cirostis didn't fit their way of thinking at all- it had some of the nearby Elves puzzled- are we doing the "hit and run" that we usually do, or are we attacking?  They are far more scattered than Aglan would want them to be, and he cannot rally them all.

From the east there is a terrible howling.

"The Worgs," Aglan says to Cirostis.

Haakon sees that he no longer needs to redirect the warbeast because it seems not to be going in any particular direction anyway.  He kicks away, hoping his leap will send the beast in the opposite direction.  He slashes at any orc stupid enough to get in the way, not staying to fight but skirmishing as Haakon was born to do.  He runs now, in the direction of the tree in the North Eastern corner of the battlefield [OOC centred around B6 on the map], ready to see the battle, and the orcs, pass him by.

Cirostis continues hurling his axe as he covers the retreat.
That's right Aglan, I just want to get Tug out of there.
He says quietly.
Then he shouts over the battle.
C'mon Tug! We can fight them again at the next stop!

Since there plan now is to head all the way back to Beda, he would not mind making the Orcs expect more raids. Every little bit helps.

Cirostis continues to move in retreat.

Haakon manages to extract Tugdual from the battle on the warbeast- or rather, Tugdual extracts himself and joins Haakon.  The Druid has a much easier time moving around, in Lynx form.  His claws grip the hide and armored coverings of the warbeast and he can scurry up and down in much the same way that a kitten can climb expensive upholstered furniture.*

As he leaves, Tugdual is injured by an Orc throwing an axe- it feels serious.  But the Orcs do not pursue.  They’ve learned that fleeing Elves will generally lead pursuers into traps and ambushes, best to stick to the plan and chosen route of advance.  Tugdual wasn’t able to see the outcome of the Lion vs Shaman duel, but it certainly looked like the lion had the upper hand.  Paw.  Whatever.

They link up with Cirostis.  A few minutes later, a weasel joins them, and transforms back into Tawna.  She looks flustered, and more than a little mad.

 There are reasons the Elves do things the way they do.  A thousand years of tradition does not emerge blindly from the primordial fog…

And Haakon, Cirostis, and Tugdual begin to see it at work.

Moving through the forest is work.  Fighting in close quarters is much harder work.  It is not just their numbers that the Elves protect by refusing melee combat, it is their stamina.  The Humans and the Dwarf have somewhat more of it than a typical Elf, but they feel winded too.  Had the Elves fought a melee battle, they would risk exhaustion.  And the Orcs, who are known for their ability to fight and run tirelessly, would have little trouble catching them.

Now, Aglan has one goal- separate, and get room to rest.

In the darkness, he leads the group to a rendezvous with another band of Elves, these having the company of a trio of bears that are apparently being used as pack animals.  They discuss the recent night encounters, and Aglan sadly reports that Hyleth and half the Elves that were with him are missing.  The new Elves tell of the use of illusions to slow and confuse the Huns- they appear to be stopping for a rest at a place called the “Duodoni Tree”.

The party, and the Elves, rest as well.  They know that tomorrow, the main forces will clash, and they will need all their strength.

As they settle in, Aglan tells them,

“Beda is not far.  The Celibus River is only three miles away.  If the Huns begin moving, we shall go there, but as long as they stay still we can rest.  There is a ford on the east approach to Beda, and your people have set up a defense to block the Huns there.  North and south of that, on either side, is rougher country along the Celibus river, and the Marquis of the Fifth Ward has gathered on the north, and Elves of the Sixth Ward in the south.  If your army can hold them at the ford, we will strike from both flanks and trap them.  Do you intend to return to your people, or stay with us?”

Haakon rests with the others, recovering his stamina, getting ready for a further run should he need one.  In the meantime, he talks to Tawna, who is clearly mad as well as flustered.  "Yes", he tells her, "I took a risk, although I don't believe it was as risky as it looked.  If I could, I promise you, I would have taken weasel form and run away but sadly, it's not a skill I've mastered yet, if I ever will (and believe me, I am trying).  In the absence of that skill, I run and hide and hide and run and I'm good at that.  The thing is though, that there has to be a threat in that running or I just get hunted down like a stag (and not a werestag at that - the kind of stag that finds itself surrounded by dogs and with only two antlers as a defence).  So... from time to time, when conditions are favourable, for example when a warbeast is unridden save for a shaman busy fighting a lion, I turn around and attack like a rabid mink.  I'm sorry you had to see it but I promise you, I did it out of self-preservation and to protect your investment."

He then leans closer and whispers in her ear.

 Stubborn as he may be, Tugdual knows when to stop. If one could read facial expression on a bearded lynx, they would see that the druid is rather upset at his comrades for the risk they all took in pulling him out, when they know that he is always only a moment away from turning into a bird and flying into darkness... but he has other things to do than to try and meow that feeling, so he focuses on keeping the rearguard and making sure no one is following them.

 When they get a chance to rest, Tugdual takes time to shape back into a human being. A celtic being. In the process, the torn flesh on his right brisket seems to heal, and the two arrows he took in the left sirloin drop to the ground as the wound vanishes (or at least, it disappears under his linen druid skirt, where no one will bother taking a look)

  "We are better ambushers than frontliners." Tugdual claims. "I will stay with you."

 The druid has a thought for his faithful bull Vurambix. He has not seen him in days, he hopes the bovine champion is still running with the dwarven cavalry and that they make good use of him... they would be wise to use him to lead the charge.

I long to return to my artillery, and see how my teams are maintaining their skills, and to meet my leader, Dunduin and my old friend , Patre Arctos though we may as likely bicker with one another as embrace. It is good to have ones comrades beside him in battle.
Cirostis says wistfully.

Of course, we DO have our comrades beside us do we not? I would stay with you, as we seem to work well together, and we can cut our way to visit my kin in battle.
Is there any chance to meet the Marquis and Marquessa ? It would be an honor to convey the greetings of our king and to set up the eventual meeting of them with Centurion Dunduin before the battle, because we cannot guarantee we will all be available to meet afterward...

"We shall go to the Greenstag camps when we can, then," Aglan says.  "Our Marquis and Marquessa are probably curious about you as well."

A touch of Elven magic gives their resting place in the forest a strange warmth, and more comfort than their simple beds among rocks and ferns would suggest.  A pair of Elven healers, both women, move through the group, checking injuries, doing what they can.

They are dismayed at Cirostis's injury.  "There is damage inside," the Elf woman says. "I can make the pain stop, and hold you together for now, but it will only be a temporary thing.  This injury needs time and rest to heal truly.  Magic alone is not enough."

Very fortunately, the Elves have a broad view of "temporary".  The work the woman does will stop the pain and keep Cirostis in the fight not for hours but for days.   And if things are not over and won in days... well that's an entirely different set of problems.

It is well before dawn when an Owl alights in their camp.  It passes a message to Aglan, who wakes everyone up.  There is just the barest hint of light in the east.

"The enemy is moving and so must we," he says.  "We shall go to our Marquis and Marquessa now, and we should be there in an hour and a half, if we are quick."

Tawna rubs tired eyes.  "By quick you mean no breakfast and no getting washed, right?"

"That is the way of it," Aglan says.  "For now, the enemy dictates our movements."

The Elves start moving through the forest, and it seems they deliberately take a difficult trail.  But it takes them where they want to go.   With the sun close to dawning, they arrive at the Celibus river.  On the far side, there are tents and pennants.   There are rope bridges set up across, and many Elven warriors around.

Haakon smiles and says to Tawna, "Well you can sleep if you like.  I'll carry you".  And then, at the River he pauses.  He sees the rope bridges but looks around for another way back across, in case such a thing should prove necessary at some point in the future.

Ah just tuck it in, ma'am. Ill be alright.

Such talk is required from any Legionaire. But Curostis is very grateful for the aid.

He does his best to prepare himself while on the march. He dusts himself down, adjusts his coat and cloak and tightens a few braids while rubbing off his beard rings. Cirostis keeps quiet as they go, thinking on the mission.

They pause at the river.

There are other ways of crossing.  The Celibus is not very deep, and there are places where the river can be forded.  But it's cold and wet, and the crossing would be slow and slippery, and so the choices in good military river crossings are much fewer than the choices of river crossings in general.

As they get closer, it is clear the Elves have thrown a lot into this.  There are not just Elven warriors here.  Here and there they catch glimpses of large cats perched in tree branches.  Haakon knows them- he's worked with lynx pelts, but here... these creatures give him a feeling of brooding intelligence he's never found in a lynx.  Even the squirrels seem to be called up into the Elven ranks- they see an Elven woman talking with a dozen of them.

There are more than just animals.  The Elves have some kind of strange statue made of wood and twisted vines, looking almost like a large and dense shrub was coaxed into growing into the shape of a griffon.  It is animated by magic, and prowls watchfully along the Elven line.  Other small trees are moving.  They don't seem to have the full mobility and features of a Treant.

Tugdual, being a Druid, knows an animated tree when he sees one.  The Elves have gathered a formidable force.

The group is met by a tall Elven man, white haired but with youthful features, his gray-green cloak fastened by a broach featuring a bronze deer on a green stone disk- the symbol of the Greenstag clan.  He introduces himself as Ilsyan Greenstag- one of the grandchildren of the Marquis and Marquessa, and currently acting as one of their "staff officers".

Feeling a bit nervous and trying hard, maybe too hard to make a good diplomatic impression Cirostis speaks.

Hello good Sir Elvishman. I am Cirostis Avastus, Centurio Posterior and uh Hestalarios Venator Evocoti of the Legion.  Greetings to you sir and anyone else and we've come a long way ... Uh .. Well - that's not exactly how I meant to say it ...

21:43, Today: Cirostis rolled 12 using 1d20+5. Diplomacy.

Still standing proudly and waiting to shake arms, Cirostis' voice trails off with a touch of embarrassment.

"Hi" said Haakon, "I'm Haakon, a Dressmaker.  This is my dearest Tawna.  Yes she is, and...?"  He offers a hand and he says it all with an affable grin.

 Tugdual cannot fail to notice how wrongly his comrades are doing this, but alas he is bound to do no better, for the way of noble elves is strange to him as well.

  "Greetings. Tugdual of Vosego Sylva, druid of the old faiths.

 Quite a gathering you have there, sir. How may we help and assist ?"

"It is the best force we can assemble," Ilsyan says, and even so it would not nearly be enough.  We would be crushed by the Huns and the way into our kingdom would be open for them.  But... the Sixth Ward has sent a force from the south, and there are your people directly blocking the path of the Huns.  So our chances are good.  How you can assist, though.. first things.  We have heard you fought the warbeasts.  As quickly as you can, tell us all you have learned.  Weaknesses, strategies.  As we travel, so we will be prepared when we strike."

There is not much time to sit around for chit chat.  The Huns are on the move, and the Elves must be as well.  They must be ready, to close in from the flanks at just the right time.  So Ilsyan wants to talk as they go.  He gathers messengers- Owl and Elf, so any critical reports or tactical advice can be relayed to everyone.

Some Elves show up with food- Elven travel bread, a dense but supposedly nutritious substance made from nut flour, and other ingredients the Elves are not ready to discuss.

 Tugdual gladly accepts the famed elven bread. For days he has been taking time to eat only while he was in wild shape, and something elven made sounded like a good improvement on frogs and shrews.


 As they walk, the druid explains :
  "We have struggled with the warbeasts, yes, but I would not say we have actually fought them...

   For what I have seen, the only sound strategy is to kill the orcs on the platform, possibly with ranged weapons, then send someone up there to kill the beast with a clean strike to the neck, preferably with a long piercing blade.

   Others will tell you they are softer on the underbelly, but reaching that point is extremely dangerous when the monster is moving. Their tusks (improved with metal blades) are deadly, and their trample as well.

   They are hardly hampered by traps, except some that would be designed specifically against them... wide pits with long picks... but I fear we have not time for such engineering.

   It seems they lack intelligence, so driving them off a cliff should be easy, if we had the appropriate batllefield."

Haakon grinned at the thought of traps taking advantage of the warbeasts' special features... "How about pits filled with mud", he suggests, "of such a consistency that the weight of a warbeast causes the mud to become liquid and the beast to sink deep into quicksand and drown?"

Cirostis takes the bread, sniffs at it trying not to look suspicious then ... Like any good dwarf he eats.

They have most armor on their heads and on top. The best attack is from below. I would have foxholes with lycanthropes or commandos and draw them in with a group of elf warriors that attacks and  runs away as if routed.

Also beware the treeways, Huns have these magic claw hands to help them climb. Haven't seen any use it yet, but they work great.

Now, our people should have three artilliary teams, get the warbeasts in range and well pummel them. You need to avoid putting any of your pits teams too close or we might pummel you too.

Dwarves are best when direct and to the point.

The Elves organize on the move, sending messengers and owls out with the advice provided by the Haakon, Tugdual, and Cirostis.

It's not all usable, but they can find enough.

“Pits and traps are going to be hard," Ilsyan Greenstag says.  "We are on the move- the enemy has chosen the field, not us, and we have to fight a mobile battle.

“And cliffs are hard to come by here,” another Elf adds.  “Steep slopes, yes, especially along the rivers, like the Celibus.  But few cliffs, and I know of none on the approach to Beda.

Ilsyan concludes: "It seems we are left with the option of climbing and killing them."

"It sounds like a suicidal strategy." his colleague replies.

"Nevertheless, they have done it."

Tawna represses an urge to point out that yes, Tugdual did get onto one of them, but they left before they saw for certain the outcome of that attack.  She gives a little cough instead.

Ilsyan continues:  "We are light, and quick in trees.  When we find them, we will try and get them close to good trees, and we can use them to reach the tops of the warbeasts."

Messages come back as well as fly out.  An owl arrives, and quickly hoots at the Elves in its ancient, heavily accented version of the Sylvan tongue.

Aglan passes along the news.

“The Dwarves built a fort!  A fort, blocking the approach into Beda.  And the Huns are heading straight for it, even now."

The quick, dirty fights over the past couple of days have achieved one success:  The Huns are proceeding without virtue of reconnaissance.  Most of the light troops they use as scouts are dead.  This leads the Elves to conclude:  The Huns must be advancing as if they are expecting to meet us, not fortified Dwarves.  The tactics that would be used against Elves or Dwarves would be different.  But of course, the Huns will figure that out and then...

"We must pick up our pace," Ilsyan says.  "And send word to my parents.  I think, when the Huns deploy to assault the Dwarves, that is when we must strike."

Haakon grinned when he heard of the Dwarven Fort.  "After the Huns shatter themselves on the dwarven fort", he said, "They will retreat.  We need to make sure that no survivors return to their empire.  We have more time to build pits and traps behind them, and to kill any remaining light troops.  And once we have done that, we must attack, not in large numbers, but by ones and twos as we have taken cities before.  We must push them all the way back over the Vistula."

"Trust me you do t want to drop on top of the beast platforms and fight. That is what they are made for. If you can't get under em. Then wait, be patient and let them attack my kin - you can rush in from behind with bladed cavalry and hamstring the pigs. Let them thrash and move on. "
Cirostis moves with the elves to get a look at the plans or the field.

The lead  Elf force, with the party, follows the course of the Celibus river south.  The effect of the river as an obstacle is obvious- the river valley is steeply sloped on the sides, and in many places, big ponderous creatures like the warbeasts might have problems negotiating the slopes.

Ilsyan Greenstag duly notes the suggestions about killing the warbeasts and sends them on ahead.  Engage the legs from behind, yes, boarding… well, kind of dangerous.

Still, Cirostis can tell that the Elves seem to like the boarding idea.  They like the idea of attacking from above, rather than below.  Above is treetops, their home turf.  Below is ground, where they have no natural mobility advantage over Orcs.

The deep Celibus valley blocks the line of site, and Elven patrols and owls spread out along the flanks.  With the Huns blinded by the attrition of their scouts during the skirmishes in the forest, the Elves are hoping to be able to move without being seen.

But that will only get them so far.  The scouts bring back word:  the Huns have used some kind of magic to make Worgs fly.  They know it’s magic because Worgs don’t normally have wings of fire.

The group calls a halt to consider their options.

”The Huns are about to attack the defenders at the Celibus, about a half mile south of us” one of the scouts reports.  “If we hold back, there is a chance they Huns will become so focused on that battle that they will not watch for flanking movements.”

Ilsyan considers this, and the possible consequence:  “Yet, if we wait for that, we might be waiting too long.”

Sir, holding back is the right course, patience will win the day. There are over 200 Dwarves over there and hundreds more of men and elves with artilliary!  They can stand. It's what they do.

Haakon nodded.  He followed his own advice as he suggested, "Let's find a nice vantage point to shoot those wargs.  Even if the magic keeps 'em flying, a flying piece of meat is less dangerous than a flying slavering beast.  But of course, we should not reveal ourselves too early.  Let the Dwarves do their job first."