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| Gunnar's Saga, Part IV | | | Author: | | | IP: | resnet18XXXX | | Date: | 04/05/00 10:04 | | Game Type: | Warcraft 2 | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 1, Max: 9, Min: 9
Lifetime Rating for MRHD: 8.5455 |  | Gunnar’s Saga, Part IV
Before going on, if you have not read one of the previous installments in this series, then please go to the links below:
Part I
Part II
Part III
Now, on to Part IV!
Lands of Gilneas
Once they had rested for a few days, Gunnar and his followers continued their journey south towards the Kingdom of Gilneas. Whenever they passed a village, people would come out, and watch them pass with a mixture of awe and terror, and as was common with the times, the rumors on who they were came to them equally mixed as well. Some of the rumors said that they were rebels who had slain the King of Lordaeron, and a group of vile bandits; others would say that they were the noble followers of the rightful King of Lordaeron, who were not bandits but merely sought the assistance of the Southern Kingdom. In such times, as was constant throughout history, the information that did reach the rural villages was always seemingly garbled without fail. This is why the people were wary of them.
Their continued journey south lasted for three more days, until the road on which they had been traveling met up with a large, bustling town, unlike the others they had been through. Far to the south, they could see the great sea in the distance.
“This must be the boarder town of Western Hillsbrad.” Sigmund remarked, addressing Gunnar. “Just west of here we shall find the boarder of the lands of Gilneas.”
“Good.” Replied Gunnar. “It will not be long then until we know whether Genn Greymane will be counted among our friends or among our foes.”
A brief expression of dismay flashed across Sigmund’s face. “I only hope that we will be able to consider him among our allies. For what would we do if he turns us away?”
At this Gunnar slowed his walking pace down, and seemed to contemplate what Sigmund had just said, for it was a genuine worry of Gunnar and all those who followed him. “If that were to happen, then I would turn back north.” Gunnar stated. “I would march back into the lands of Lordaeron… and I would die trying to get Glum’s head. But I would not die easily, and those who would try to stop me would carry with them the scars from their efforts forever.”
“It is about what I expected to hear from you.” Sigmund said. “But you would not go alone, for I and all the men here would give our very lives for your struggle, even if our efforts ultimately proved to be in vain.” Gunnar was about to reply to this, but before he could, a pair of footmen came up to them, the crest of Gilneas embroidered on the front of their armor. Both Gunnar and Sigmund knew this to mean that they were guards from the royal palace of Gilneas.
“Are you Gunnar of Lordaeron?” inquired one of the men. “Yes I am.” Replied Gunnar. “On what business do you come to see me?”
“Lord Genn Greymane has sent us here to escort you to Gilneas Castle.” Answered the other soldier. “It is a two day journey from this point. Once we arrive, our King wants you to have an audience with him.”
This was somewhat of a surprise to Gunnar. If the King wishes to see us, then surely it is a good sign that he is open to an alliance. Gunnar thought to himself. “Very well.” Gunnar responded. “Shall we be going now?”
“Certainly.” Replied one of the guards. “We shall follow this road to the west; it is a two day journey to the castle.” Gunnar nodded, and called over one of his men, whom he told to spread the word that some soldiers from the palace had come to escort them the rest of the way, and that they would all now follow them.
They soon began on their journey again, and Sigmund, who had been silently pondering during the whole past exchange, decided to lend voice to his thoughts, out of earshot of all but Gunnar, for the guards from Gilneas were ahead of them, yet their company was behind. “It is a good sign that Lord Greymane sent only two guards to meet us, for had he thought us hostile he would have sent many more. The fact that he wants a meeting with us is an even better sign… and yet, I am sure that an alliance will still not be easy to come by.”
“Things are never so simple.” Gunnar agreed. “I cannot see Greymane simply opening his arms wide to receive us; he must have reasons of his own for this welcome.” Sigmund realized that Gunnar spoke well on the subject, and concurred. Greymane certainly has his own reasons. Sigmund thought. Otherwise he would have not accepted us to meet him so easily. But what are these reasons? Pondering this question, Sigmund continued to follow the guards alongside Gunnar, knowing that soon there would be either the ultimate realization of their hopes, or the ultimate denial of them.
The Rewards of Failure
As he approached the magnificent gates of Lordaeron castle, upon which the now dried and withered heads of the men of Gizur were still displayed, gazing with sightless eyes down on him, Hrut was very nervous. Actually, to be more accurate, Hrut was scared out of his mind, for he knew very well the temperament of Glum, and that he was not going to take is inability to capture Gunnar lightly. What shall I do to save myself? Hrut wondered in dismay. Glum will surely punish me for this! He briefly entertained the thought of running away right now and hiding out in the woods, but quickly decided against it, for his courage was not strong. Instead, he continued to walk towards the entrance to the castle, and once he reached the steps leading up to the palace, a guard came promptly up to him.
“Lord Hrut, King Glum has been awaiting your arrival.” The guard said to him. “You are to meet with him immediately.” Like a man in a trance, Hrut continued forward and through the doors, without so much as the faintest sign that he had even heard the guard. People who saw him pass remarked on how ghostly pale his face was, and that he looked like a man who had just seen his own death. Upon entering the foyer to the King’s audience room, the two royal sentries stationed at either side of the door leading to Glum’s throne opened them up for Hrut, and once he entered, they slammed them behind him immediately, the sound of which made Hrut think of a coffin shutting, and he shuddered. Glum was seated before him, staring at Hrut intently. Hrut walked a few paces forward, and immediately kneeled, not only to show proper respect to the King, but also because his knees had become weak and he could not manage to stand much longer.
Glum smiled down at Hrut. “Rise, Hrut.” Glum commanded. “Come closer; stand before me.” The tone in Glum’s voice was undoubtedly benign. A perplexed, and yet overjoyed Hrut rose to obey his King. He is not mad, not mad at all! Hrut exclaimed. Why, I was worried over nothing the whole time! Hrut eagerly stood before Glum as ordered. “What does my Lord desire of me?” he inquired of Glum.
For a moment, Glum just stared at Hrut, smiling. Slowly, his smile faded, and he reached to his side, where the royal Staff of the King sat. Taking this staff in one hand, he lifted it and with a quick swipe brandished the left side of Hrut’s face, who let out a surprised yelp, and fell to his knees. Glum now stood, his face flushed red with anger. “You worthless pest!” yelled Glum down to the shocked Hrut. “It is because of you that Gunnar has escaped!” Glum then brought back his leg, and proceeded to kick Hrut directly in the stomach. Hrut, the wind knocked out of him, bent over, clutching his stomach.
“You failure!” Glum screamed, his anger seeming to grow ever more intense by every passing moment. “How foolish I was to put such an important assignment in the hands of a lowlife such as yourself!” And with that, Glum brought back his leg once again, this time kicking Hrut in the nose, shattering it, blood dripping rather thickly down his front. Surely he is going to kill me right here. Hrut thought to himself in dismay. This is the end, this is the end, this is the end, this is.. His thoughts were cut short, as Glum called out for his guards, who came in from their posts outside the door shortly.
“What is it that my liege desires?” asked one of the guards, barely paying attention to the crumpled form of Hrut.
“Take this scum before me and give him twenty lashings.” Glum replied, the hints of a smile hovering beneath the surface of his face. “And when you have finished, throw him in the dungeon. I will think of a suitable punishment for the disgrace he has brought on our kingdom later.”
The two guards, quick to obey, walked up to Hrut, each lifting him up by one of his arms, forcing the semi unconscious Hrut to his feet. Supporting his weight on their shoulders, the guards carried Hrut outside of the throne room, a slight trail of blood being left behind them. Damn Hrut!Glum thought in anger. He has allowed Gunnar to escape, and lost me many of my Paladins as well! But no matter… the head of Gunnar will still be mine. It is just a matter of time now. And so Glum, calmed down for the time being, slowly sat back down upon the throne of Lordaeron, to bide his time until the next chance to slay Gunnar presented itself.
Genn Greymane
Two more days passed as Gunnar and his company continued their journey to the Castle of Gilneas, when at last the castle gates came within view. The castle, although perhaps not as glamorous in looks as the one at Lordaeron, was nevertheless obviously a very strong building, and well fortified; indeed, perhaps more so than its counterpart in Lordaeron. Gunnar and Sigmund took in the entire site as they walked the now cobbled road towards the castle gate, and as they neared, the shadow of the immense walls fell upon them, walls that appeared able to withstand any assault. Once they reached the entrance to the castle, one of the guards spoke to them.
“Only you Gunnar and you Sigmund are to come inside to the King.” He stated. “Tell the rest of your followers to wait for you here.” Gunnar nodded, and ordered the word to be spread amongst his men. The other guard had already gone on ahead to inform the King of their arrival, and soon he came back out.
“The King will see you now.” Said the guard, to which Gunnar and Sigmund took as their signal to proceed to the throne room. The guard who had just returned from meeting with the King escorted them through the castle halls, and soon they were standing before two imposing wooden doors at the end of a long hallway; the guard opened one of the doors. “Lord Greymane awaits inside.” He informed them; at that Gunnar and Sigmund entered the throne room.
Genn Greymane was sitting on a throne that was similar to the one at Lordaeron in the sense that it was lavishly decorated, and carried with it a noble air, but it was also more hardened in appearance, the throne of a warrior king. Greymane himself was a man in his fifties, whose face was weathered by battle, yet still very strong. He did not overly decorate himself in robes or jewels, but he did have at his side a great sword, one of the finest weapons that Gunnar had ever seen. Also, standing beside him was a young man, with blazing red hair, wearing a blue cape and with a sword at his belt. That must be Kol, the son of Greymane. Sigmund realized. Gunnar and Sigmund slowly approached him, and then kneeled.
“So, you are Gunnar of Lordaeron.” Greymane said in a powerful voice, looking at Gunnar.
“Yes I am, your majesty.” Replied Gunnar, bowing his head in reverence. “And he who comes with me is named Sigmund; he was the retainer to my father.”
Greymane nodded. “Yes, I know of Sigmund. He earned himself a fair reputation back in the days of the Orcish wars, and did good for all of us.”
“Thank you, my Lord.” Responded Sigmund. “Your words do me well.”
“Now, it is time for our business.” Stated Greymane briskly. “Why have you and your men come to my realm?”
“We have come in hopes of forging an alliance with your Kingdom, my liege.” Replied Gunnar. “For your nation is the only one that is not in an alliance with Lordaeron, so you would not look over truth for the sake of political well being.”
“But what is truth?” Greymane retorted. “I know well what type of man Glum is, to be sure. He is a cruel and unjust man, which is why I am inclined to believe that he would sink so low as to frame his brother for the murder which he committed. However, what proof do I have that you are so much better than he that I should put my own kingdom in danger for your sake?”
“Let me prove that I am trustworthy through my actions.” Answered Gunnar. “It is well known that Gilneas has not had a retainer in several years, ever since your last one perished in battle. Let me become your retainer, and let me then prove to you my worth.”
To this Genn Greymane sat in thought for awhile. Finally, after much contemplation, he had decided upon his answer. “I cannot let you become my retainer before I trust you, for if I make you my retainer, Lordaeron will surely declare war upon my Kingdom. However, there is a matter, that if handled properly, would persuade me to let you have the position.”
“What does my Lord wish of me?” inquired Gunnar. Sigmund looked up at Greymane, eagerly awaiting what was to be said.
“Yesterday, while on patrol, my men spotted a large Orcish camp in the southern regions.” Greymane explained. “They are apparently led by the notorious troll beserker Zuljin. There are two things you must do. First, rid my lands of this Orcish presence. And as for the second…” Greymane glanced over at his son, and their eyes briefly met. “Take my son Kol with you. He may only be aged sixteen years, but he is a capable warrior, and good of judgment. If you can earn his trust, then you shall earn my trust.”
“Orcs…” said Sigmund, voice filled with disbelief. “I hadn’t thought there were any left…” his voice trailed off.
“I have won over the Orcs before, and this time shall be no different.” Replied Gunnar. “I accept your proposal, my Lord.”
“Very well, Gunnar of Lordaeron.” Greymane said as he motioned a guard over. “Guard! Deliver the message that the Prince’s troops are to ready themselves for battle.” The guard gave the proper “Yes, my Lord” and then proceeded out of the room to carry out his orders. “You may rise now.” Stated Greymane, addressing Gunnar and Sigmund. After they had stood, Prince Kol walked over to them.
“Do not think this will be easy.” Kol said, looking Gunnar straight in the eyes. “I am less confident in your innocence than my Father. And either way, truth does not buy trust.”
He reminds me of Skarp of Stone. Sigmund thought, and then shook his head. No.. not quite. His presence is similar, but he has a bitterness to him, while Skarp does not know of emotions. He will be a hard one to bring to our cause. At this time, Gunnar exited to tell his men to prepare for battle, while the Prince went out to check on the status of his own troops. Sigmund followed Gunnar out, and soon they left with Prince Kol to journey south, entering the area where the orcish camp was said to be.
Strike Against the Horde
It was during the afternoon, and battle.net was having some serious problems. First of all, all of my accounts were back to what they were like in December, making my normal Warcraft 2 account, MRHD-The-Peon, all messed up, so I logged onto the first battle.net account I ever made, way back when I first got Starcraft: MRHD. I had an impressive record of 2-4-0 on this account, so I guess I was stuck looking like a newbie for a little while. But when I log onto battle.net, I am the ONLY one in War2Bne USA-1, and I have to go to Blizzard Chat 1 to find anybody, a lone Diablo player, who says they are the only one that was in Diablo Retail USA-1. Confused, I log onto Starcraft, and there are five other people in Brood War USA-1… I also have my KBK logo back, and my profile happily informs me that I haven’t played a game of Starcraft since 12/9/99.
Anyways, to make a long story short, I log onto Warcraft 2 again with my sucky MRHD account, and there is one person in War2Bne USA-1 now, whose entire account was wiped out as of the moment. I click on the join list, and there is one whole game on, a ffa on Garden of War Classic. Seeing how I hadn’t played the original GoW since my Zone days, and I wasn’t about to find anything else on the list at the moment, I joined. Inside I meet pschneible, who is also having account problems right now. Despite the fact that bnet is utterly deserted right now, he still decides to wait a few minutes just in case anyone else wants to join to make it a real free-for-all. He has already selected Orcs, and like I have found myself doing so often lately, I choose to play as the noble and yet underused humans. Realizing that no one else is coming any time soon, pschneible starts the game.
As the game begins, I breath a sigh of relief that I did not receive the notorious eight o’clock start location, with my noble humans being placed at the six o’clock starting point, and with pschneible’s orange orcs being put on the other side of the map, at the twelve o’clock start location. It is an eight player land map, and for those of you who may be unfamiliar with the map, Garden of War is the Lost Temple of Warcraft 2. The balanced version is by far the most used ladder map, and the classic version is still loved by the Warcraft veterans. The classic map is not perfectly balanced. If you get the eight o’clock, then you have to build your townhall farther away from your gold mine than everyone else does, a serious disadvantage. The eleven o’clock mine also has more gold than the rest, but the building area is all messed up in design, so it is not the most attractive spot. There are many fine points to the map, but that’s enough for now. On to the game!
It was the next morning; both the forces of Gunnar and Kol were getting ready for the day ahead in their respective camps, both in a forest. Kol had sent out scouts the night before to inspect the surrounding territories, for it was around this area that the Orcs were supposedly gathered. At this time, one of them burst into his tent, out of breath. “Lord Kol… there are Orcs, many of them, just a few miles north of here.” The scout gasped.
“Report this to Gunnar’s camp.” Kol replied, in an almost completely calm voice, although there was a trace of tension within it. “Tell them that they should prepare for battle immediately, and once all of our combined forces are ready, we shall attack the enemy.”
As the game began, I realized that the resource setting were not on the now almost universal high, but were rather on low, which at least meant that I would not have to endure the super overplayed gow/high monotony. I immediately begin construction of my town hall across the dirt road from the gold mine, and when it is done, start on a farm. I then proceed with a farm, farm, barracks, farm, barracks, smith, mill build, making sure to have ample resource collectors gathering wood and gold at all times, and I also send out my first footman to scout. He finds nothing at the eight o’clock start location, and continues to proceed north. Meanwhile, I have a peasant chop out an annoying section of the eight o’clock forest, making way for a town hall to be built there, and at the same time I also upgrade to keep.
My scouting footman finds nothing at the eleven o’clock start location, and I have also not heard anything from pschneible yet. This leaves me to believe that he either is expanding and teching just like me and is not thinking about an attack yet, or that he is just bad. Curious to get better recon on my opponent, and also getting frustrated with trying to guide my footman with the poor pathing system, I build a Gnomish Inventor, and then a Flying Machine. During this time my footman finally makes his way to twelve o’clock, where he is soon killed by a couple of towers on the outskirts of pschneilbe’s base. My newly made Flying Machine goes up north to try to gather more information on what pschneilbe is actually doing, but before he gets to the the twelve, he passes over the middle of the map which proves to be much more interesting.
Apparently, while my clumsy footman was scouting out the edges of the map, pscneilbe had decided to expand to the middle, and also had a fair number of towers there at this point. Gathering a control group of level five footmen together, I waste no time in attacking this precarious expansion that my opponent has so daringly placed.
I lose a few of the footmen in the assault because of the towers, but once I have almost rid the area of the tower presence I have about five footmen left, and realize that it would be a good idea to take out his peon line, shutting off half of his gold intake. At first things go well, and I am able to kill almost all of his peons before pschneible is able to react.
During all of this I put up a stables, along with a third barracks, and soon I had my first knights out. I was feeling pretty confident about my footmen in his expansion, but no sooner than it looked like I had things under control, an entire group of level five ogres comes storming in, and they easily defeat the five almost dead footmen that were still hammering away at his peons. As the lights go out, I see that pschneible is constructing a barracks at center, and is also making two more towers. In fear of being outresourced, I send a lone peasant to set up an expansion at the gold mine between my main and the four o’clock start location.
Once I have a couple of knights, I make two groups, one of the knights and one of the footmen, and I make ready for a second strike on the center. I also start my upgrade to castle, and make sure that I have enough peasants working at each gold mine. Done with my preparations, I then send my troops in to the heart of the map to deal with the forces of pschneible. At first they seem to do well, but it does not take long to realize that the combined pressure of both pschneible’s ogres and the guard towers is more than my units can handle, and after a bloody skirmish, all of my attackers are slaughtered.
Since I had just used all of my troops, I am at this point pretty defenseless. I realize this, and think to myself that if I were to be attacked by all of those ogres of his right now, I would be in serious trouble. And just as I am thinking this, I see the first of the duel headed creatures storm into my base, which is soon followed by a fairly large number of its brethren. I had just gotten out a few knights by the time they arrive, and I quickly engage the ogres, but my numbers are far to small compared to the force of pshneible’s monstrosities. They go directly for my peasants, whom are soon all dead. Luckily for me I have two expansions up and running at the moment, but they will not be too much of a help if I lose my main. Hoping that pschneible does not find my expansions, I quickly send a peasant to the four o’clock start location to begin construction on a third expansion, and I also order up the next batch of knights, in hopes that the advantage of having my production buildings right at the action will be enough to counter his attack.
There was fighting all around Gunnar, as the huge, powerful, and yet swift Ogres came crashing into the camp. One of the beasts came near Gunnar, and with malice in its eyes, it let loose a tremendous holler which filled the night sky, a primitive and frightful cry of battle, and then charged towards Gunnar. In full concentration, Gunnar stood his ground and focused directly at the hideous abomination, short sword held in front of his chest. Now the Ogre was barely a few feet in front of him, and coming at an astonishing speed, and yet Gunnar did not move. Finally, right before the Ogre would have collided with Gunnar and trampled him, he swiftly turned his sword horizontal, the tip of the blade pointing directly to the Ogres heart. The fierce and yet dumb creature was not able to stop its own momentum in time, and ended up impaling itself on the sword. The weight of the thing was great, but Gunnar managed to hold it up, withdraw his sword from its carcass, and then heave it to the ground.
He turned to his right just in time to see Prince Kol withdraw his own sword from another one of the ogres, which was now lifeless on the ground. The Prince wiped his bloody sword casually off on the scarce clothing of the Ogre, and then slowly put the sword back into its sheath. All around them, the combined forces of Kol and Gunnar were slowly but surely pushing back the Orcish menace, and calm was beginning to fall over the battlefield for the time being. These Orcs are proving to be more formidable foes than I would have expected. thought Gunnar. Yet they will not overtake us. However difficult it may be, we will take their power center in the middle of the forest out.
Since I had successfully defended pschneible’s attack, I start building up again, making a mage tower, a church, and just for the heck of it because my three expansions were starting to bring in a ton of gold, a gryphon aviary. I also transfer two peasants from lumber to gold at my main, to finish off the two thousand left in that mine. Soon after those structures are complete, I put up a second mage tower, and also start researching blizzard as well as paladins. During this time, I am constantly making more knights, and I am also sending a flying machine periodically over the center to see what is going on there, and realize that pschneible is slowly building up ogres there.
Once I have about twelve knights, three mages, and two gryphon riders, I decide that it is about time for a second assault on pschneible’s base in the middle of the map. En route to their destination, my troops run into something unexpected; a pair of dragons along with a few Ogres making their way to my base. Realizing he is probably a little bit surprised to see that I made gryphons just like I am to see that he made dragons, a battle ensues, and although the sides look pretty even at first, the fact that I have heal and am able to restore my griffins, as well as the fact that I was able to catch some of his troops off guard with a blizzard, I soon prevail over his would be attackers. I then send a mage ahead to try to knock out some of his towers, to which about nine more Ogres come out of base to kill. I have my troops follow after them, and again another melee ensues in his base. I take out his towers and for a little while assume that my griffons will go unharmed, but pschneible brings a few Death Knights down from his main base, and these quickly take care of my griffins. He also rounds up some ogres which I assume were from his main, and these manage to barely stop my attacking force.
Although my attack failed to wipe the center of the map clean, I know that pschneible is now very weak there; I took out his towers along with all his peons, plus most of his standing army. Not wasting any time, I get up another control group of Paladins along with four mages plus a lone griffon, and march right back in. This time, I am met with a few ogres, a death knight, and some troll beserkers, and with a couple of well placed blizzards, as well as superior numbers, I eventually manage to prevail, and start merrily ripping apart his expansion. Some more ogres come in to try to save it, but these prove to be too few to stop my forces, and I manage to take down every last building he had at center.
Gunnar and Sigmund led their men once again into the heart of the wilderness, with Kol leading his troops to the orcish encampment located there as well, side by side with the followers of Gunnar. An unholy Death Knight galloped on its skeleton horse amongst the chaos, casting its vile and horrid incantations; Sigmund chased after it, the two of them disappearing from the view of Gunnar. He himself took on a group of Ogres along with some of his men, hacking, slicing, dodging, ducking, while his mages began to release the fury of nature upon the Orcish forces. The sharp and frigid shards of ice began to rain everywhere, with the men of Kol and Gunnar barely getting out of the way in time; the ice pierced the skin of many Ogres, who moaning fell to the now cold ground, where they let go the last of their breath.
After the blizzards subsided, a few Orcish forces yet remained, and Gunnar noticed a few trolls among them. He saw one of these trolls was dressed in half skinned animal hides, with primitive jewelry around its neck; it had to be their leader, Zuljin. Kol had also noticed him, and with sword in hand, began to charge after the troll, who lifted up one of his axes, ready to fling. Gunnar looked on in mounting horror. Kol does not realize the danger he’s in! That axe will surely hit him! Not wasting anymore time, Gunnar raced forward. Zuljin let the axe fly, and yet Kol, who was racing forward blindly, did not seem to notice. Gunnar, moving with tremendous speed, stood to block Kol’s path, and facing the oncoming axe, felt the blade hit him with great force, forcing him to the ground.
Gunnar’s armor was strong, however the axe did make a sizable hole in it, sending a few chunks of steel into his stomach, blood now pouring out of the wound. And yet Gunnar staggered to his feet, one hand over his stomach. He tried to say something, but all he was able to manage was a blood-filled cough. In front of him, he watched with some satisfaction as some of his men killed the troll that had done this to him, but he also began to feel faint. He felt Kol put his hands on his shoulders, and heard him shout “Get a Paladin and a field doctor here right NOW!”, the sound echoing through his ears. A Paladin came over quickly, and tried to heal Gunnar, but it wouldn’t work.
“No good.” The Paladin said. “My magic does not work if there is either something inside the wound or if the patient is mortally wounded.” The worried men around Gunnar quickly worked to take off his armor and lay him on the ground. Once they did, they saw the pieces of metal protruding out of the stomach; they were not huge, but large enough to do some serious damage. At this moment the field doctor arrived, carrying with him a small bag of tools.
“Let me see him quickly.” Commanded the doctor, and the men around Gunnar parted. Wasting no time, the doctor took out a rag and wiped away the excess blood, and then surrounded the wound with it. There were two pieces of metal that he could find protruding from Gunnar’s stomach, and he carefully began to try to remove one of them. At this time an exhausted Sigmund, just back from slaying the Death Knight, came upon the scene and was immediately overcome with horror.
“What has happened?!” asked the terrified Sigmund.
“Gunnar… protected me from an axethrower.” Replied Kol, a look of confusion on his face. “The field doctor is tending to him now.” And so they watched on as slowly the first piece of armor was removed from the stomach of Gunnar, which caused him to cough up more blood. The second piece was more firmly stuck; the field doctor was forced to use a knife to wedge it out, upon which more blood spurted forth. “Now quickly use your magic.” The doctor instructed the Paladin, who obeyed without delay.
A magic aura began to surround Gunnar, and the onlookers watched in amazement as his wound slowly began to close, and the blood disappear. As the light from the magic faded, they stared in wonder at where the wound once was, where now there was only a mild cut, something far from mortal. A shaken Gunnar now rose to his feet, and was handed a piece of chain mail by one of his men, whom he thanked. He also made sure to give his deepest thanks to the field doctor and to the Paladin, whom were both honored to be able to help so greatly.
Kol walked slowly over to Gunnar, facing him. “Your one goal has been accomplished.” He stated to Gunnar, in a voice that had the smallest bit of some emotion in it, although it was hard to pinpoint exactly what emotion. “Now it is time to get rid of the Orcs for good.” Without waiting for a reply, Kol walked away and promptly started to give orders to his men.
Sigmund was now standing beside Gunnar. “I believe that is the closest to saying thank you that he will ever come.” Remarked Sigmund.
“You are probably right.” Replied Gunnar. “Now, let us finish our business here.” And so all the forces of Gunnar and of Kol prepared for the final assault on the Orcs.
With the middle of the map secured, I decided it was time to make sure that pschneible had no more expansions, so I sent out two flying machines to investigate all of the gold mines on the map. To my slight surprise, they happened upon two expansions, one at the eleven o’clock start location, and one at two o’clock. The two o’clock was heavily guarded, but the eleven was defenseless. Deciding to end this right now, I split up my forces in two: about nine Paladins in one group, and in the other twelve Paladins, three mages, and two griffons. I then sent the smaller group to the eleven, and the larger one to the two.
The group at eleven met no resistance, and they easily crushed the peons and razed the great hall there. At the two o’clock however, a large number of Ogre-Magi met my Paladins, and actually were able to kill them all. However, pschneible had neglected air defense in the area, so my griffons began to take free shots at his peons. He then sends in some Death Knights which dispose of my griffons, but by now my group at eleven has finished their job and goes east to assist at the two o’clock, and when he sees all the Paladins come storming in, pschneible realizes that he cannot stop them, and with a dried out main there is nothing more he can do, so he leaves the game.
Avenger
The next day, Gunnar, along with Sigmund, Kol, and all of their combined men, arrived once again back at Gilneas castle. The three of them departed from their men at the castle gates, and proceeded on into the throne room, where Genn Greymane eagerly awaited their return. Upon entrance, they three of them solemnly bowed before Greymane, who immediately motioned at them to stand.
“Rise off of your knees.” Ordered Greymane. “You have done me a great service in vanquishing the orcish presence, and deserve high praise. I have heard rumors of what transpired during the battle… but Kol, I wish to hear it from you yourself.”
“Gunnar has saved my life.” Kol stated, in his usual almost emotionless voice. “I now trust him completely, my Lord.”
Greymane smiled. “Gunnar, you have done a great deed for me, and I thank you for preserving Kol, for he my sole son and heir to the throne. From this day forward, you shall be my retainer, and you and all of your followers are from here on welcomed in these lands, and may stay as long as is necessary.”
Gunnar bowed before Greymane. “Thank you, my liege.” Gunnar replied. “You have bestowed upon me a great privalege; I will do my utmost to bring honor to the lands of Gilneas.”
“And to the lands of Lordaeron as well.” Remarked Greymane. “But there is one more thing….guard, come over here.” At this the guard stationed at the door to the throne room came forward.
“What does my Lord wish for?” the guard asked.
“Go to the royal treasury… and come back with the sword Avenger.” Ordered Greymane. The guard nodded, and went off to obey. The four of them talked briefly about the events of the battle, and then the guard returned, carrying in both hands a giant two-handed sword wrapped in cloth, a most certainly rare type of weapon. Greymane took the sword from the guard, and removed it from the cloth. It was of a brilliant steel, and was embroidered with the royal crest of Gilneas.
“This is the sword ‘Avenger’.” Stated Greymane. “Six generations ago, the King of Gilneas was assassinated by a rogue general who had planned to overthrow him. The son of the King, in his rage, took this sword from the royal armory and attacked the general with it, slaying him. Just as this sword has avenged royal blood for this kingdom, so shall it do for the kingdom of Lordaeron. Take the sword now Gunnar.”
Gunnar stepped forward, and carefully picked up the sword. It was heavy, and something that most certainly had to be used with two hands, yet it was a perfect weapon for Gunnar, whom had most of his life used a two handed axe as weapon of choice.
“Thank you, sire.” Gunnar said, a new determination in his voice. “I shall serve you faithfully from this day forward, and when the time comes, you shall find Lordaeron as the strongest ally a kingdom could ever have.” The four of them talked for a little while longer, and then they ended the audience. That night, there was a feast in the honor of the three of them, much like the feast that had taken place on that night so long ago, when Gunnar had also been honored for dealing with the orcs. Only this time there was to be no horrendous murder the following night, and for a few days at least, a sort of peace fell over Gunnar and his men for the first time since they had departed from Lordaeron.
Declaration of War
Skarp of Stone walked towards the throne room, utterly calm as usual. Today he was to see Glum to inform him that Gunnar had been made retainer to the kingdom of Gilneas, and that Genn Greymane supported him fully. Skarp of Stone was delivering the news personally, for no one else dared; should it be anyone but Skarp of Stone, Glum would surely strike him dead in his rage. But Skarp suffered to do it, not out of any feeling of pity for the lowly ranking soldier whose job it would be otherwise, but simply because he saw no reason to waste a perfectly good fighting unit in a senseless burst of anger, when the life of that same object could give its life more usefully in battle, which was now almost inevitable; Skarp saw none of his men as actual human beings.
Once he entered the throne room, Skarp knelt before Glum, who was a little bewildered to see him. “Why do you come before me now Skarp?” Glum inquired.
“Lord Greymane has declared Gunnar the new retainer of his kingdom.” Skarp answered, staring straight at Glum. At first Glum became very angry and was about to lash out, but those emotions were soon stopped cold by the pervasive stare of Skarp. In fact, that anger was turned into fear; for even Glum shivered at the hard coldness that was personified in him. And through it all, Skarp never broke his gaze. Even I dare not cross him. Glum was surpised at the revelation brought upon by his own thoughts. This is a man that would kill me as easily as he would kill an enemy on the battlefield, if a reason to presented itself.
“We cannot tolerate this.” Glum said in a slightly shaken voice. “I had announced that I would go to war with any country that dared aide Gunnar, and so it shall be. On this day, at this moment, I use my royal station to proclaim that the kingdom of Lordaeron is now at war with the kingdom of Gilneas.”
To Be Continued…
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