Trail of the Broken Spear

Breaking the Seige

The battle rages just outside the walls of Malakh, with skirmishes going on inside the walls and above the battlements. Massive battle golems crush Lemures by the dozens outside the gates, the pathetic devilkin unable to harm them, the golems preventing them from breaching the aging wall. Regothdeszeld, the Guardian of Khalass, a huge silver dragon, flew in from overhead, bolstered by an arcane shield, protecting him from the rays of fire extending from the Hamatulas’ hands as his freezing breath strafed across the abyssal skirmish lines, Lemures and Barbazus fell easily to his freezing cone of ice. Erinyes and Osyluths took to the air, evading his breath, or blinking out of existence as walls of ice hemmed in the devilish horde. Many hours later, the light of the sun had long since dwindled, the dragon landed within the city walls, the exhausted paladin that had ridden astride it, healing it’s wounds for hours, slumped and fell from the makeshift harness, exhausted and unconscious. She was caught by her friends and carried to the inn to rest up from the day’s battle. There were still many more devils outside the gate, but now a huge portion had been cleared, allowing the Companions of Westcrown a chance at attacking the commander of the infernal army. The guild they had acquired the services of Celeste from was hard at work, a diviner trying to determine the location of the devilish commander while the Companions rested for the upcoming battle. The next morning the Inn was quiet as the Companions awoke, as they filed downstairs they found the dwarven king seated with a tall, frothy mug of Rumblekeg Ale, eating breakfast. A scroll laying neatly beside his plate as he jammed a forkful of quail eggs mixed with spiced potatoes past his neatly kept beard. “Ye’ve done a lot for our folk, an’ we aint forgetting no time soon. I s’pose today ye be decidin’ if yer movin’ on or giving us one last help. They commander of this section of their army has been found by a diviner, an’ there’s no time better t’hit him.” He gestures to two pieces from his battle map that he brought with him, “Now I just need t’know which piece I be playin’ agin’ him.” One piece was a smaller piece, the dwarven rune for “Friend” inscribed upon it, the other larger, with “Crown” etched in it the beard of the small, stone worked dwarf.



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