Somewhere in the dimly perceived depths of the Chambers of
Challenge Merlissa is squinting into her crystal ball. She sees a party of five
adventurers, flee the Gallery of Ancestors and slam the door heavily
behind them as a collective noun of statues creaks into life. She sees them
stumble into the Armoury. She smiles to herself.
The Armoury is filled with orcs rampaging around like gorillas on
tequila, gathering helmets, breastplates, vanbraces, ordinary braces, bucklers,
swashbucklers, buckets, bascinets, bows and bright shiny beads, falchions and halbeds,
scimitars and poignards, and the occasional pointed remark and heaping them in
an untidy pile in the centre of the room.
“At last!” cries Titchy. “A pile of Treasure!”
Everyorc stops what they’re doing, and turns round to view the
newcomers.
“I mean,” says Titchy hastily. “There’s plenty to go round
isn’t there. Lots to do. Why don’t we lend you a hand?”
Casually he picks up an odd dagger and tosses it to the base of
the pile.
It falls well short with a deafening “Ting!”
The tallest orc, Gnawbone, (why yes, it is he!), scowls then
growls. Menacingly the orcs close in on the five adventurers.
“It’s us, Gnawbone. Don’t you recognise us now you’re two
people tall?”
The orcs continue to advance. With added menace.
Merlissa’s smile has become a grin.
But at that moment a clamour arrives from the far side of
the chamber, coming from the exit leading to the Hatchery.
Dozens of soldiers bearing white shields stream in, shouting their battle cries
and immediately laying into the orcs.
“We need to get out of here!” screams Elfbow.
Merlissa’s smile is now wide enough to be classified as at
least two grins, if not two and a half. This is going to be better than anyone
could have expected. Soon there will be five ex-interlopers face down amongst the gorgets,
sallets, cuisses and poleyns. And the blood.
She watches Elfbow stumble over a stray guisarme, falling against
the pile of armour, which crashes down with a crash, surprisingly. Reaching out
to stop his fall, he grabs a spear. A golden spear.
No!
It cannot be!
Not that
golden spear!
Not the Spear of Density!
Merlissa shrieks in horror, and is so startled by her own
shriek that she drops her crystal ball.
"Didn’t foresee that, did you?" flashes
the message on the ball as it rolls away.
That spear shouldn’t be there. And it most definitely shouldn’t now be in the moronic hand of a stupid elf. Now, whoever kills the adventurers, that
spear will end up in someone’s hands. The wrong hands. She can’t have that. She
hates the idea. Grimvizaj would really hate the idea.
Oh, botheration! Just when everything seemed to be going so
well. Forget that plan, then. Come up with a new one.
Time for a sorceress, it would
seem.
She can imprison them in the Oubliette. They won’t survive
there for long. Then she can retrieve the spear from Elfbow’s moronic,
etiolated, bony hand whenevr she feels like it.
Who would have thought it? The Spear of Density!
***
Not much to say about this post. The 12 Republican Romans are more of the same Victrix minis, except their shields are white rather than the black ones previously posted. The pile of treasure is from Terrain Crate. I tried to straighten the bend bits using warm water, but the straightening does not seem to have taken.
Scoring:
12 x 28mm infantry: 60 points
Armoury: 20 points
Pile of treasure: 2 points? (it stands about 35mm high)
Total: 82 points