Assault on Baldie's Palace

Page 1

"Allow me to present myself. I am Archibauld Concreter the third, official scribe to the High Council of DHMC. What you are about to read is an accurate description of what happened." ### Now, you must understand, dear audience, that Chairman Whytee the Merciless is under no circumstances adverse to a little slaughter or genocide. One of his trademarks, upon putting his Bloodied-Raven banner upon a conquered castle wall, is to have everyone previously inhabiting the town, put to the axe and have their heads piled into pyramids on both sides of the, by now destroyed, castle main gate. Likewise, Whytee had travelled extensively in the frontier-lands of the dreaded Lady Novi, and was quite used to seeing a couple of thousand heads spiked by the roadside for casual amusement and had even visited the abysmal slaveextermination pits of the terrible Inkabus, where his captured enemies were worked to horrible deaths, while extracting the Moonstones so highly prized by the High-Northerners. Whytee had seen plenty of death. He had not seen anything yet. The BaldenOne had named his shire The Necropolis, and not because of some whim or other, but because it adequately described the sickly-sweet and decrepit wasteland that his black-painted castle was located in. Never a gentle ruler, even at the best of time, Baldie, as his enemies called him, had lately begun to take his wrath out on his own population, especially recently, when his forces had been destroyed on the battlements of Marek, Bane of PA 's fortresses. Thus it was that when Whytee arrived at the very outskirts of the shire, the only thing that reached him was rows upon rows of decaying bodies with the accompanying cloying sweetness of rotting flesh. Not rows as in a row here and a row there. The ground was carpeted with bodies, three or four deep, black and golden blowflies thick in the air like grains of sand in a sandstorm. Whytee grimaced and spat a particularly phlegmy collection of chewing tobacco, snot and blowfly, onto the front semi-decayed head and nodded. They would have to wade through these corpses, to get at the castle two miles further along the trail. Well, maybe not all the way; maybe he could lure Baldie's troops out into the open. There were a couple of still-standing hamlets in front of the main castle. He nodded to himself, turned and gave a hand-signal to his Norse priests, and smiled widely when they in turn grasped giant horns, and blew them as loudly as they could. Surely, if any of the dead in the Necropolis were so inclined, they would have been wakened by the noise. The Viking berserkers filed out in what could at best be described as chaotically anarchistic groups, axes and round metal shields held at the ready. The few thousand archers that were hiding behind the screen of Vikings, looked decidedly out of place, in their green and brown leather armours, all looking soldier-like and completely different than the Vikings. Still, the Bloodied Raven flew high above their ranks, proudly. Further back, dozens of bronzed ram's heads adorned the battering rams that made of the remainder of his smallish force. Chairman Whytee turned around to face the castle and shouted his battlecry, a cry that was


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