Thursday, August 6, 2009

Berserker Part 47

Millienya cursed in Klavistan, her home language. A good language to curse in, full of hard syllables that really get across the point even if the exact words aren’t understood. She should’ve expected some trick from the crafty little goblins.

Upon charging, they had thrown themselves bodily into the defenders, whirling and twisting their bony bodies around in insane frenzy, using centrifical force and the heavy objects on their clothing to turn them into living morningstars. Their rags straining away from their bodies, rock and metal whistled around them, bludgeoning repeatedly anyone they came into contact with.

As long as their energy held out, getting in close for knife work was near impossible. The long gash across her knuckles was proof of the effective defensive properties of their attire. But a number of the militia with pikes and spears had formed a makeshift wall to hold them at bay. Even then they constantly attempted leaping past their wall, occasionally getting behind the long weapons only to be slashed in half by a second line of vigilant swordsmen.

The goblins holding ropes had used the confusion caused by their counterparts to slip over to a few of the wagons and tie them to the carts. After making sure the knots were secure they tugged on the rope a few times and suddenly the rope was taught, the wagons being pulled inexorably over by creatures in the grass. This effectively immoblised the wagons ahead of those that had fallen, what with having nowhere to turn.

She guessed that an attack this coordinated, one would expect to find a few orcs too. They were much larger and slightly more intelligent than their greenskinned cousins. Like their cousins they also possessed a basic cowardice which would explain their choosing to stay in the long grass and attack from a distance.

Even as she watched, the lead wagon with Kyle still holding desperately to the reins, toppled. Seeing the waving grasses caused by the taughtened ropes she had an idea. Drawing her bow she broke from the front line and climbed up to the second wagon in line, which was still upright, though just barely.

Sighting down the length of the rope, she let fly. Smiling with gratification as she heard a low piteous moan rise up from the grass, the wagon thumped back to the ground on all four wheels.

Not only did the single wagon right itself, but others did as well. Realizing they were in danger, the orcs had apparently stopped their attack and abandonned their grapnels.

This gave her some breathing room to formulate an effective defensive strategy. She hoped vainly that Marhault would see their plight and send reinforcements.

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