- Old Farmer Wisdom, Ballad of the Troll Slayer
“He’s a goliath!” shouted one of the men, while another screamed, “Earth Forging!”
Taliesin’s men closed ranks in front of him to interpose a solid wall of warriors between him and the seven militia and one very oversized warrior. The earth Forger stood up from the small crater his jump had made, and easily towered a head taller than the militia in front of him.
“To the gate!” shouted Runolf.
Taliesin and his party backed away as swiftly as they could from the enemies before them. The militia followed, none willing to make the first attack against an archmage. It seemed for a moment that they’d escape into the street without incident.
Then the goliath, Ulfgrim, pushed his way impatiently through the militia. The man was heavily muscled, and with the mottled gray skin, he looked as if he were a granite statue come to life. He was not carrying a weapon - the ridiculously sized warhammer had been left behind in the Sheriff’s study.
“Stand aside, warriors,” rumbled Ulfgrim, his voice deeper than any Taliesin had heard before. “I’m only to kill the Archmage. I take no pleasure in my work, and would rather not injure you as well.”
“Won’t do that,” said Runolf. “We’re varingjar.”
“Shame,” rumbled the bare-chested warrior.
“Shame indeed,” said Taliesin. “[Ice Darts].”
A dozen frozen darts formed above his fingers. Taliesin thrust his hand forward and the darts flung forward at speeds beyond what even an arrow could achieve. The heavy projectiles swerved unerringly at the goliath. Ulfgrim looked unworried, and simply crossed his arms before his face. The darts which had so easily torn through gnolls shattered against his forearms.
Ulfgrim grunted and was forced to step back, then step back again, as the momentum of the darts required he either step back or risk being knocked over.
“Charge him, lads!” shouted Runolf as he ran at the giant man. He swung his axe, only for Ulfgrim to grab the handle just below the head and easily stop the blow from landing. He twisted and flung Runolf into the path of two of the charging varingjar, sending all three tumbling back. The fourth Ulfgrim simply grabbed and lifted overhead, before tossing him at Runolf and his men.
Taliesin frowned. The man hadn’t thrown any fatal blows, and with his obvious strength it should be easy. Why was he holding back? “I’m rather fond of my men. If you’d not use your strength to kill them, I’ll not send fatal attacks at you in return. I’d rather not hurt a man just doing his job.”
Ulfgrim gave a ferocious grin. “Do your worst, mage. I’ll leave your men alive.”
“If you insist. [Shockbolt].” Taliesin loosed the spell solely at Ulfgrim, as the Sheriff’s militia men still hung back. Nearly two dozen small bolts of lightning pinwheeled through the air and began slamming into Ulfgrim. The electricity had no effect, merely running down to the ground as if they struck a lightning rod.
“My turn,” rumbled Ulfgrim, who charged straight at Taliesin.
“I’d rather not give you one. [Elevate].”
Ulfgrim floated off the ground as the spell took effect, his massive bulk lifted by the magic in a circle around him. By this time, Runolf and his men had re-taken their position in front of Taliesin. The Sheriff’s militia had regained their courage, and seeing their heavy hitter temporarily thwarted, began to edge forward, spears down and threatening.
“I’d say it’s time for us to leave,” said Taliesin as he pointed at the heavy beam sealing the gate. “[Lightning Strike].”
A massive, overcharged bolt of lightning shot forward and blasted a hole in the beam and set the wooden door aflame. The beam split in half under the raging power, allowing the gate to swing ajar.
Taliesin and his men wasted no time retreating even as the militia began to charge forward. They ran out into the courtyard. A dozen varingjar carrying weapons and shields raced out of the nearby streets, and formed a line of battle in front of Taliesin, Runolf and the other three varingjar. For their part, the sheriff’s militia ran after them and froze just past the burning gate, before lining up against their shielded foe. More of the sheriff’s men began to show up on the walls above the gate with crossbows locked on Taliesin and his men. Taliesin’s varingjar were well shielded, but the number of men on each side was nearly the same.
No one moved.
Ulfgrim sighed and uttered a command. “Bonecrusher.”
Aethereal light streaked towards Ulfgrim’s outstretched palm, and the massive warhammer appeared in his hand.
Taliesin cursed at the appearance of an obviously enchanted weapon and began casting a long spell. Aether began to draw itself around him in a thick, eldritch mist.
Ulfgrim spoke one more word. “
From where he was, floating mid air with no gravity, divine might imparted an implacable force onto the giant, and he charged forward as if on solid ground. He barreled through the burning gate, his passage shattering the already stressed wood as he landed before the Sheriff’s militia and kept moving without losing a single step.
The varingjar tightened their line, with shields interlocked and the soldiers in the second row bracing the men in the front to help hold them upright against the coming charge.
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“[Soldier’s Aegis]” intoned Taliesin as he finished creating the complex spellform. A massive translucent wall appeared before the varingjar’s interlocked shields, at least a foot thick and six feet tall. It looked much like the Phantom Armor that the archmage was encased in.
Ulfgrim stormed onwards and slammed into the mystical wall. The magic appeared to hold him for a mere moment, before massive cracks split through the phantom shield. A scant second later, the wall shattered and the spellform broke apart. Yet the wall had helped. Ulfgrim had lost much of his momentum granted him by his Forging ability.
The goliath slammed into the wall of shields. Despite them being braced and locked together, the line of battle was shoved backward. Several varingjar went tumbling, and the shields directly before Ulfgrim’s Onslaught were shattered. Shouts of pain rose from the warriors, no doubt from broken bones.
The impact shoved the line so far back that Runolf, standing at the rear, was shoved into Taliesin, and nearly knocked Taliesin from his feet. His [Phantom Armor] saved him from the blow.
Crossbow bolts began to land on the shields, and one struck a fallen varingjar in the leg. The militia behind Ulfgrim charged forward with their spears, hoping to strike before Taliesin’s men could recover. The goliath swung his massive warhammer, and the ponderous blow thundered against another shield. The wood could not hold and splinted beneath the strike.
But against all odds, the warriors reformed and shoved back against the giant man. He was strong, but without the divine charge pushing him forward, he was not as strong as a coordinated mass of men. The warriors shoved him back and managed to piece together a defensive line just enough that they weren’t immediately skewered as the militia attacked.
A crossbow bolt skittered off of Taliesin’s armor. I’ve had about enough of that, he thought to himself. With an effort, he drew power from the Torque of Dawn. “[Shockbolt]. [Shockbolt]. [Shockbolt].”
Three dozen bolts of electricity formed, then split into three stunning charges each. Instead of each bolt being potentially fatal, they were reduced to the power of Taliesin’s [Shocking Grasp] spellform. The stunning bolts corkscrewed away from Taliesin like the fireworks of a traveling troupe. Half of them darted towards the walls and sought out the crossbowmen hiding behind the narrow ledge. The others sprayed across the spear-wielding militia on the ground.
In seconds, over a dozen had collapsed, while still others were shuddering in pain on their feet. A lucky few were untouched, but the assault on Taliesin’s line was broken.
Then Ulfgrim swung his oversized warhammer, which sent two more men flying. His way clear for only a scant second, he twisted in a full circle, and brought the warhammer from a low swing into an overhead strike that was, for all its ponderous power, surprisingly graceful. At the very peak of its arc, the goliath released the heavy weapon, allowing it to somersault through the air, between two varingjar, just over Runolf’s shoulder, only for it to curve down directly at Taliesin’s head.
Taliesin ducked just as the head of the warhammer struck the top of his Phantom Armor. The spellform shattered under the glancing blow and the warhammer buried itself in the stone wall of a building behind him.
“Bonecrusher.” The warhammer vanished from the wall.
“Nope! Nope, nope, nope. [Minor Portal]. Nope, nope.”
A portal opened underneath the feet of Ulfgrim, a startled yelp the only thing the goliath had a chance to get out as the ground beneath him vanished. A scant second later, Ulfgrim’s falling form could be seen plummeting down into the roof of the Sheriff’s house, directly over his study. The heavy warrior slammed through the ice-covered roof in a cloud of snow and dust.
The clatter of heavy, armored feet rattled from down the street as a new entrant to the fray arrived. Two dozen militia men and a dozen of the Jarl’s House Guard marched straight towards the skirmish, a young man in a polished breastplate at the head. The man was tall and strong, and bore a striking resemblance to the late Captain Hrodi.
“Halt this at once!” he shouted with a commanding voice.
Taliesin looked around at his men helping their fallen comrades back to their feet. Most of the Sheriff’s men were rolling around on the pavement or passed out cold from his stun attack.
“Skirmishing in the streets like refugee rabble chasing a bread crust, what is wrong with you?” shouted the man at the militia on the street. Then his attention turned to Taliesin and his men.
“And you, archmage,” he said venomously. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?”
“Captain Haeming Hrodisson, I presume?”
“Yes, that’s me. I accepted the Jarl’s appointment this morning.” The new Captain’s gaze swept across the fallen militia on the ground. “Get these dogs gathered and stripped of weapons. Answering to the sheriff instead of the Jarl, acting like common dogs, they are a disgrace. By Thor’s might, I’ll have them drummed out of the militia with a dozen lashes for their disloyalty!”
The Captain’s militia dragged the sheriff’s men to their feet, while the House Guard gathered up the spears.
“There are some up on the wall,” said Taliesin helpfully. “In the interests of full disclosure.”
Captain Haeming frowned, but sent several militia to roust the crossbowmen. He saw the burnt state of the wooden gate, and turned to glare at Taliesin. “I thought you didn’t do fire magic.”
“No fire magic at all,” confirmed Taliesin. “I used a Lightning Strike spell on the gates. It blasts holes in things, but it is hot enough to ignite wood in the process.”
“So you could have burned the former Captain,” said Haeming angrily.
“Not without also carving a hole through his torso. I understand your anger, Captain, and agree with it. I am an ally of the Jarl, so I was an ally of your father. I urge you to temper your rage and keep your mind open as you hunt his killer. I’ll be first in line to help you when you find the culprit.”
“So you say,” said Haeming. “Yet we must trust your word on what you can and cannot do.”
“That is the case,” said Taliesin easily. “But look closely at your father. His injuries look to be from a tremendous blow, not the minor scorching evidenced on his chest. Perhaps you should be investigating who could deliver such a powerful strike? I certainly cannot do that. I am so poor with weapons, I’m as likely to hurt myself as to injure someone else - much less a trained foe.”
Haeming’s scowl lessened slightly. Then he waved his hand in dismissal. “Please take your men off the street and back to the Jarl’s manor. I dislike having foreigners and their varingjar trooping around in a large group. And no more brawling!”
Taliesin went to his men, and cast a quick healing spell on the man who took an arrow wound. The rest of the injuri were broken bones and bruises. The former would need to be set before healing - preferably by the Jarl’s Forging ability - while the latter would just need a few days rest. Before long, the varingjar were formed up around Taliesin and moving back to the manor.
“That was close,” said Runolf.
“The Sheriff is cannier than we gave him credit for. I suspect we’ve not yet seen the true depth of his allegiances here in town,” said Taliesin. “Not to mention, who knows what alliances he’s made with distant nobles?”
“That goliath was a surprise. Rare to see someone with such a deep Earth Forging. Not a local, or the Jarl would have mentioned him.”
“I wonder what hold the Sheriff has on him. He didn’t seem to be pleased with his job.”
“No matter,” dismissed Runolf. “We bring more men next time, we’ll hold him off.”
“If there’s a next time, we’ll need to fight somewhere I don't have to worry about injuring the innocent.”
Runolf nodded. He looked tired. The pair walked in silence amidst the varingjar for a few minutes. Then Runolf grunted, “Girl came through.”
“That she did,” said Taliesin. “She did indeed.”
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