Open Chronicles Obsidian War Council

[Azrakar]

Azrakar gathers his forces on the eastern edge of the spine. Orc tribes have been brought to heel, but more still resist of flee the Fiend. For now, he turns his attack to the path to the Ixchel North Stone.

A fort, manned by human and dwarven forces guards the path to the stone.

Activites:

[IMG size="597x124"]https://chroniclesrp.net/attachments/council-png.2103/[/IMG]

Azrakar plans their next move with his war council, aiming to lay siege and take the fort.

[IMG size="597x124"]https://chroniclesrp.net/attachments/feast-png.2101/[/IMG]

Meanwhile orcs from many times have come together. A feast is being prepared. Different tribes set out friendly competitions: archery, armed and unarmed combat.

 

[Azrakar]

---

The tents had been raised in ordered silence at the foot of the Spine, their dark hides snapping in the mountain wind like restrained beasts. Beyond them, the jagged peaks loomed. The sun was starting its slow descent towards the peaks.

Azrakar stood at the center of the largest pavilion.

The interior was lit not by torches but by braziers of banked coals. Gartz stood to his right, broad and blood-scarred, still carrying the scent of the mountain passes. Azrakar assumed that Urzak Iron-Hold would join them after his leadership in the field.

On the central table lay a stretched hide marked with charcoal and ink. The great rivers of the delta forked like veins, enclosing fertile land and trade roads between them. At the narrowest choke point stood the fort human stone layered atop dwarven craft, ugly and efficient. Beyond it, through the guarded pass, lay the portal stone.

Trade. Tribute. Control.

Azrakar rested both hands upon the table.

"The tribes of themountains are quiet. Hroth is ash. The orcs will not threaten our rear."

He traced a claw along the inked lines of the rivers.

"East lies wealth. The delta feeds kingdoms. And beyond this pass…” His finger tapped the marked position of the portal stone. “…freedom of movement.”

His gaze lifted to the council.

"The humans and dwarves believe the fort unassailable. They believe stone and height make them untouchable. They believe we will waste ourselves upon the walls."

"I need options."

He straightened, towering over the map.

 

[Gartz]

Gartz planted a hand on the hide map. “We don’t hit the walls when we have such a long march ahead. We must preserve our forces.”

His finger traced the rivers feeding the delta. “Food keeps that fort standing. We cut it off. Sink the boats. Burn the storehouses. Nothing moves beyond the pass.”

A brief glance to Azrakar. “Fire handles what we cannot reach.”

He straightened.“They will ration, then panic, then the gates will open on their own.”

A pause. “This only fails if someone breaks the blockade.”

His eyes moved around the table. “Belgrath will not. The drow will keep them busy.”

He tapped the map once more.

“What other allies may come to aid the fort?”

Azrakar Urzak Iron-Hold

 

[Ugh'Lolghoth]

Spoiler: Music

Ugh'Lolghoth stirred, and their seat groaned in pain beneath the weight.

The two heads astride this revolting and strangely wide corpus had been preoccupied. The bald one, swimming in layers of abundant flesh and glinting, gold piercings, nuzzled up against the neck of his twin brother, a long tendril of drool ponderously dangling from his small tusks. The brother, meanwhile, wore a thick fur hood -- perhaps to cushion against his neighbor's sleeping spells -- small, cinder eyes aflame with righteous fury and zeal, bearded mouth chowing through a raw cow's leg. Blood, spittle and viscera marred his dark-grey beard -- the growth of which was a half-hearted attempt to cover up his quadruple chin.

After making short work of meat and marrow, Lolghoth (for that was his part of the name) wiped his filthy mouth with the back of a tattooed hand and burbled out:

"Sire. My King. Hollow chosen--" his thick, oleaginous voice brought to mind a massive slug cozying up to a living thunderstorm; each syllable near swallowing itself in mucus and spit, exuberant and ever-present awe mixed with a healthy dose of near-aroused fear. "If I may humbly speak and bask, for a moment, in your incandescent glow, oh, great Herald of Therg. We may have more allies than we might think. There are humans who have seen the right path to the Dark Ones. Few, yes, but enlightened indeed. Should they learn of your divine status, they would not hesitate to worship thee. As all measly earth-trotters should, Your Eminence, as they should . . ."

He excitedly employed both their hands and rubbed fat fingers together, smacking his lips in anticipation. Whether in hopes of more meat or more worshippers, who could say?

Azrakar
Gartz

 

[Alak Rasivrein]

Alak had come up to assist the expansion of the Drow allies on the surface, an alliance that was supposed to transcend or something along those lines. It was all a bit of blown smoke as far as he was concerned. He had found his spot in the Hounds, and the role suited him well: he could get the job done and he didn't have idiots looking over his shoulder all the time.

The fact that he had spent a considerable amount of time on the surface already was to his advantage for this campaign. It was just another day at the office where he was significantly smaller than everyone he was working with. What he lacked in size, though, he made up for in magical combat prowess.

Sieges take a long time. Can take months to run out of food, but magic can shatter a wall in an afternoon, he said. Of course, that was easier said than done. Shattering walls of a fortress meant bringing down its protective runes which was easier said than done.

If you can get a small team inside to weaken the runes protecting the walls before they know the attack is coming, then later roll on up and shatter the weakened section, he said. It required infiltrators, though, and that was not always easy to come by.

The fact that the two headed... guy(s?) were talking about traitorous humans made it all the more plausible that it might be possible.

Azrakar Gartz Ugh'Lolghoth