AWAKE! AWAKE! FOES FIRE DANGER! AWAKE!

Forewarned by alarm beacons, the border post at the North Ford was on alert with barricades in place across the ford and guards and patrols doubled. As the sun rose, barbarians could be seen approaching from the West and the trumpet rang out to summon the garrison to their posts.

All eyes were rivetted to the ford and the foe beyond. Not a man spared a thought for the edge of the Wild Wood behind them.

As stealthy as cats, the Huntress and Cuan na Banrigh had scaled the tower, hidden in a magic mist, retrieved the sacred chest, and sped through the hills and forests towards the ford. Birds carried the word to the waiting Men of the Hills.

"We are coming!"

The Search for Na dallag naomh.

 

Nearly three years had gone by since the theft of the sacred Dallag. (See 2017 post: "The Original story of how the Midlish began the war") and every day the bonds of the alliance between Woodsfolk, Hillfolk and Farmers weakened a little more. For three years the search for the Dallag had gone on day and night. The Huntress had searched the Woods and Mountains for tales and signs while the Watcher had sent forth word to the wild birds and beasts of the forests, hills and mountains to search for the sacred totem. 

At, last! Word had come. The Iron Lord had entrusted it to Sir Daniel with orders to find a way to open the chest and discover its secrets or if not, then to destroy it. Since it was of the Old Gods, Sir Danial took the Chest to the Witch Cave and with praise and guile, bribes and sweet words he entreated them to show him their power by unlocking the chest. They chanted and danced and demanded a price which we will not speak here and at last they set their foul cauldron to boil, hiss and steam while they circled it, chanting in a forgotten language until at last with a cry and a final puff of foul smelling smoke.....they announced that the chest could not be opened by an unbeliever and faded back into the depths of their cave. 

Many the Wise Man and Sorcerer answered Sir Daniel's challenge and promises of reward until the day a Sky Wizard, a Shaman of the Herdsmen from the across the Mountains appeared and promised that this was a task for the light not the dark. If only the chest was taken up to the top of the tower where the Sky could peer down upon it, the Wizard would then read the mystery through its eyes and enlighten Sir Daniel. So it was that the gold and the chest were carried up the long stairs while the Wizard chanted and wove his arms while Sir Daniel and his guards looked on. Suddenly there was a bright flash, a tremendous BANG! and a dense fog of smoke. 

When the smoke cleared and Sir Daniel and the Guards awoke, the Wizard and the gold were gone but the chest remained, as silent as ever. But it had spoken widely enough. A eagle spied the smoke and circled over, wheeling quickly to report to the Watcher. 

 The Queen summoned the Huntress and sent her with a picked force of stealthy, painted folk from the forest to steal back the sacred chest and bring it by night through the forests to the Great River where a force of Hillfolk would meet them and fight off any pursuit. From the Farmers, there had come no answer to the summons.

The strongest oaths were taken: "Bring Na Dallag naomh home, or die trying!".

Fighting for Hearth and Home

When word came from the Watchers that the host of Iron Men in the pass had taken the North East road, the Elder of Smawlton was quick to send word to Duke Bedwyr and to set the Villagers to barricading the village streets.

From behind their barricades the village folk watched the long enemy column crawl across the plain with a screen of horsemen scouting ahead. From the woods they could see a shower of arrows rain on the enemy's scouts who replied from horseback with their crossbows. Moments later there was a sudden clamour of screeching and howling as a group of Watchers  rushed from the woods only to be cut down by the horsemen and scattered. A brave folk but rash when their blood was up. Their attack was not in vain though, the Midlish column halted and began to deploy for battle. They had barely started forward again when thundering hooves announced the advance guard of the Duke's men rushing to meet the foe.

The Earl of Oxford urged his men forward, wanting to settle the local force before the inevitable arrival of the Duke. The veteran mercenaries in the wood were doing their job though and company after company of archers were sent back to face them while the light horse were ordered forward to screen the knights from the arrows of the Federate light horse. Eventually the deployment was complete and the Earl signalled for a general advance but it had barely started when trumpets and loud cheers announced the arrival of Duke Bedwyr.

As the Federation lancers rode on and deployed, a young warrior, glittering in gold from his old fashioned winged helmet to his stirrups, rode forward from the ranks.

It was the young chieftain, Prince Wyngnuht, 8th of his name, a descendent of one of the most gallant and least fortunate of the generals of old Valdur and said to be the spitting image of his ancestor and to have inherited his courage and luck. He raised his battleaxe, bellowed a challenge to the Earl, and spurred his horse forward followed by the whole of the Federation lancers.

Alas, the ordered ranks of the heavily armoured Midlish knights were not to be shattered by such wild charges and fully half of the lancers were scattered, leaving the bloodied body of the young Prince on the ground.

Muttering quiet curses to himself, the old Duke ordered his men and set them to foiling the enemy's plans.  He sent the Herdsmen to circle the village and harass the enemy rear while the rest of Lancers and Light Horse kept the enemy cavalry busy.

The Losses of the Federation cavalry continued to mount as charge followed charge interspersed with exchanges of arrows but the enemy cavalry made little progress. It appeared that the Earl preferred to keep his cavalry intact and leave the village to his infantry rather than risking the loss of yet more cavalry so early in his raid.

Those infantry were making little headway though. A prolonged struggle at the barricades was bloody for both sides but the packed ranks of spearmen were not best suited for attacking over such broken ground under a shower of spears, throwing axes, rocks and whatever else came to hand.

To the south, the mercenary Goblins had finally dispersed  the last of the Midlish rearguard and had advanced from the woods, adding their arrows to those of the Herdsmen who galloped past the enemy's flanks to trade shots with the Midlish bowmen. 

Both armies were near exhaustion as the sun sank towards the horizon and the town was not yet taken. The Earl knew that more Federate forces would be marching through the night to meet them and even if his army captured the town as dark fell, he had lost too many men and too much time for the raid to go farther. It was time to pull back into the pass and either entrench and call up reinforcements, or head for home.   

As the Midlish pulled back, the villagers spread out, bringing succour to the wounded. To the Duke's great relief, the rash young Prince, who had been his guest when word of the raid had come, was only wounded. He would live to ride again, hopefully at the head of his own people.

Retribution

It has been a year since the Battle under the Tower (click)  but the villages North of the Great Pass still keep a wary eye out for the enemy.

Then one day in late January................

To Arms! The Enemy is at hand!

The Watchers in the Pass

The Free Folks that form the Northern Federation are not the only inhabitants North of the Mountains. Among the forests and craggy cliffs and caverns of the Mountains them selves dwell various non-human races which the humans are prone to call Goblins regardless of what they call themselves.

Prince August Goblins and Wargs, fresh from the mould. I'm pretty sure I can get some sharper castings with a bit of work but I was in the mood to add a few fantasy figures.

The mercenary companies that garrison many of the border posts and go on raids are raised from the larger races that dwell in the Eastern Mountains. However, there is a smaller race of hunters and trappers that lives in and near the Great Pass and it is these who have an agreement with the Federation to watch the pass and send word of threats in exchange for the right to levy tolls on those who use the pass. In time of war they have been known to send parties including their fierce Wolfdogs to scout for and fight alongside Federation troops and to bring home what plunder they may get.