In Defence of the Realm (March 1108)
By Midshipman Brother Mattiel, Erin Navy, Hound of Cuchlainn

Background
Early last year, we learned that Balor had convinced the people of Clare to accept him as king. A warband of Fomor led by Balor’s warmaster Halook attempted to take control of the new lands in Caer Danon, but was defeated by the Dragons, although Halook escaped. It was here also that the Dragons there assembled (who did not include myself) learned that some of the people of Clare and some of the fey of Clare were sufficiently committed to Balor to join his forces and travel outside their own lands to attack us. These attacks were repeated at the Gathering that year.

By the autumn, Balor had shown his true nature by invading Galway with no pretext or justification at all, and a small group of Dragons (of which I was honoured to be a member, although I did little of note) launched a night raid and killed the fey general leading the attack force. This, and the onset of winter, slowed their attack and gave us chance to prepare a defence and plan a retaliation.

On the 21st day of March 1108, that retaliation arrived.

Assembling (20th March 1108, early evening)
We assembled in Mullingar, near the border with Galway. The strength of the warband was gathered, most of the Dragons I knew and a number I did not. We had also gratefully received volunteers from allied factions and from high up in various guilds, drawn by ties of friendship, former faction allegiance or simply a desire to help the people defend their lands from invasion. We even had a volunteer from Albion, here not as part of his faction, but simply a warrior who sought to make a name for himself fighting against evil.

I estimate our number (nobles, champions and commanders) as perhaps one hundred, and as we gathered to feast on the night before battle, I remember looking at us and thinking that if I was going to die, I could not wish for better companions. A fatalistic thought perhaps, but I had never been in a major battle before.

In the quiet before the storm, one event of note occurred which did not relate to our preparations for battle. Lwyd ap Neb, when challenged by Padraig ap Taran, declared he had chosen to cease being High Bard after Maclan’s disappearance, but nobody had noticed up to now. After a brief ‘discussion’ of the situation Dragons-style, the shouting ended and Padraig ap Taran was declared High Bard.

The Plan (20th March 1108, late evening)
The enemy had two main advantages over us: they had greater numbers, and there was the possibility of Balor himself being amongst them (we were somewhat short on ancient and powerful living ancestors ourselves). Therefore the plan was designed to negate both those advantages while playing to our own strengths.

The warband was to be split in two. The first group (Operation Meatshield) would march directly into Galway and face the fomor in a frontal attack. We could not hope to conceal such a large gathering of the warband from our enemy, so we would give him the attack he expected.
While Operation Meatshield faced the enemy force (and perhaps Balor himself, if present), the second group (Operation Ragged entry) would flank the enemy and move in behind them with the overall goal of slaying Halook. Unable to be everywhere at once, Balor relies on his lieutenants to keep the populace in line and the forces of fomor, fey and humans coordinated. We had already slain a lesser general, now we would remove the warmaster himself.

I was assigned to Operation Ragged entry, which included the Lord Dragon but, as it was time of war, it was Warmaster Osman who led us. We were equipped with the bulk of the Dragon’s armoury and contained within our ranks the shield wall provided by the Dwarves of Borthawr and the Children of Phedes, as well as the scouting forces of the Beastkin of Kappa and the Dal Riadans. We also contained within our number the more powerful allies from guilds and factions, including Cosaint, Head of the Bards; Sheyna, High Healer of the Lions, Storn of the Incantors Guild and Dak, Grandmaster of the Scouts. Ours was a force designed to punch above its weight.

As Kiera and the new High Bard were both in Operation Meatshield, someone was needed to coordinate the Healers in our group, and also someone was needed to record what happened and report it back later. To my surprise, I was given both of these tasks! Fortunately I was made ‘tactical healer’ only, while the more experience Amberleigh was given the task of advising healers on how to deal with advanced or difficult cases, a post referred to as ‘knowledge healer’. Still, I was left both honoured by the trust placed in me by Kiera and Paddy, and terrified by the prospect of trying to accomplish both tasks in my first major battle. I spent the rest of the evening frankly seeking advice and reassurance from anyone who would offer them, while also trying to make note of who could heal what, and who needed special care.

Into Galway (21st March 1108)
In the morning we bade farewell to Operation Meatshield, giving them a head start as they set off to draw out the enemy. As we waited, we made final preparations, and I discovered half the physicians in the warband had lost, forgotten or never had bandages. I handed out my own supply, until I had only two left, trusting I would not need them as badly as those who had no healing magic.

Just as we were about to set off, we were met by men claiming to be survivors of the Galway militia, who informed us that their force had fought as best it could but been broken when the Fomor took the field. These survivors also told us that the enemy where aware of us and the entire army was coming this way. It was unclear whether the foe knew at that time of Operation Ragged entry and its goal, or was merely responding to the warband as a whole, and would soon be drawn off by Operation Meatshield. As we headed off the survivors left us to scout the path ahead, and we never saw them again. Spies of Halook or brave Dragons who fell foul of the enemy scouts before they could return? We may never know.

We had gone very little distance before we were attacked by waves of ineffective but fervent humans, all or most from Clare. I was worried by the extent to which they seemed to hate us, as this was not a force of conscripts but a force of fanatics, who charged and died much in the manner of Hafgan followers (but without the promise of immortality after death which inspires such recklessness in Hafganites). We took one prisoner and he was questioned by Righ Aeber, but I know not what was learned, only that the prisoner would not repent his treachery and so was killed. We were pulled this way and that as the enemy attacked us in waves, not coordinated from all sides, but first from one side then the other. It appeared to me that our appearance had caught the foe by surprise and they were now converging all surrounding forces on our position to slow us down, that or the enemy had split into search parties which were finding us and engaging piecemeal.

I did my new job as tactical healer as best I could, aided by valuable suggestions from Faria of the D.o.B. The Dragon Banner was used as our mobile healing post, as it was obvious on the field for both healers and wounded to be brought toward it, and also contained healing power itself.

We stopped at an abandoned village to forage for lunch. It seemed its population had fled the war. After lunch we continued on and discovered a particularly foul trick, a body recently slain, with a vapour poison placed in the wound. We purged the poison from those scouts who had been affected by it, and burned the body.

As we continued onward we met with increasing resistance. The human traitors from Clare included a surprising number of mages, and our own spellcasters were hard-pressed to repair shields and weapons as fast as they were shattered. Balor fey also made an appearance, and once more our enemies struck from every direction to slow, split and distract us. Small parties of enemy scouts shadowed us, avoiding battle until we were weak or vulnerable. Still we advanced, heartened by messengers reporting that Operation Meatshield were holding their own. As thunder and hailstones blasted from the sky, we headed for another village to set up a camp. As we approached, war scouts warned us of a large warband of fomor and allies coming our way. These scouts then headed off to scout ahead and were never seen again, but their information proved true later.

This new village was also abandoned, and just outside we planted the Dragon Banner and held our ground. Wave after wave of human traitors and Balor Fey assaulted us, drawing us left only for a new wave to strike on the right. The banner was soon surrounded by wounded and the healers tending to them, as entire squads of enemy mages launched barrages of magical blasts at individual Dragons. Sleep spells also dropped whole units on occasion, so many and so powerful were the enemy mages.

Yet we prevailed, and no Dragons were lost. Then, just as we seemed to have a respite, a cry went up – “Fomor!”.

I had been part of two skirmishes involving fomor before, but the first was at night and I spent almost all of the second fight unconscious, so this was my first real look at such creatures. They are every bit as big, green and nasty as the stories say. They walked up to our line and sent splintered shields and shattered dragons crashing to the ground. We closed around them and overwhelmed them with our numbers, while the Ard Righ used the banner’s power to restore our many wounded.

Finally we retired to camp, and soon had a fire going. We were then met by women claiming to be from nearby village, refugees who fled when Balor fey ‘invited’ them to join Balor’s court. However these women were proven to be false later in the evening when they abducted Pelt, one of our Beastkin.
We made camp, harassed by Balor’s scouts. When the dark and cold had crept in, we were drawn out of the camp by the sound of a rite to Balor being performed. Our attack on this rite successfully disrupted it, but the strength of the Balor adherents was mighty and many fell, including myself. When I came to, I was lying by the fire, having the narrow victory recounted to me as well as the parlous state of our healing reserves.

One of Balor’s scouts was captured, a fey who had forsaken Danu to join Balor. The fey was put in a tent and interrogated by Aeber, but gave us few answers before we all felt very ill. All in the tent were affected, and rendered virtually incapable of anything. One of us managed to attract aid and it was discovered that we had been poisoned by a vapour, presumably carried and released by the fey prisoner. We were saved in the nick of time and at considerable cost to our remaining healing reserves. Sadly one of the Dragons had slain the fey in the confusion after the poisoning, so we could not question her further. We also captured a human scout, this one from Galway, who told us he was forcibly recruited by the fomor and obeyed them out of fear. This gave us hope that at least the people of Galway were still with us, even if many of those in Clare seemed to have become our enemies.

Another attack was made upon us, this one containing several Fervilag. These casters did manage to render the entire D.o.B unconscious or asleep at one point, but we rallied to their defence and took down the foe without sustaining loss of life or major depletion of healing.

Towards the end of the night it became clear that Austin Ermano McConell, Standard bearer and Gate Captain, was missing. Sadly, it was too dark to effectively track him, and the warband was in no state to send out search parties. When he had left to check the perimeter he had left the banner with…. you’ve guessed it, me. I was now tactical healer, chronicler of events and acting standard bearer until further notice.

After midnight, Halook appeared in person and demanded to speak with us. He said he knew all about our mission to kill him, and here he was to meet us (with his friends, of course). He then gave us three choices: to leave Galway, to join Balor, or to die. If we chose the third option, he would also slay Pelt, whom he held prisoner.

The warband by this point was tired, low on healing and suffering badly from the cold. Rhodri spoke to Halook and declared our answer would be given in the morning, a state of affairs which Halook accepted. Little did we know then where morning would find us.

Halook left, and we stood a while outside the village, on guard and in thought. We started to head for bed and rest, to take advantage of Halook’s truce until morning, but then we heard shouting and chanting from far off. It sounded like a rite or ritual, and we headed off to investigate, worried that Halook’s offer to wait until morning had been to buy time for some terrible act of ritual magic. Instead, we discovered that the rite was being performed not to Balor, but to Arawn. The purpose of this rite was to create a breach between worlds and summon us, the Dragon Warband, through to continue our mission to destroy Hafgan!

The timing could have been a great deal better, but when an ancestor calls you have little choice but to answer. The ritemaster spoke of this being the only night of the year when the gate could be opened, and the Cuch Annwyn protecting the rite confirmed that it had Arawn’s favour. We took a deep breath and marched through the gate, while behind us the ritemaster declared that the ritual would also summon those Dragons who had left us to go sleep.

The Realm of the Dead (22nd March 1108 [?])

Darkness, then we found ourselves in some sort of grove or shrine, under the light of day. Our spells and bodies were renewed as if we had slept into a new day, but our items of power were not functioning. All those who had been part of our warband were now here, not only those who had been sleeping, but also Pelt, drawn from his captivity. We also had an unexpected visitor, a mage called Tetrys, who followed Arawn but had been asleep in a tavern with no intent to join the warband. He now found himself with us, and was very confused. He was not alone in his confusion, and it would get much worse before it got better. No sooner had we formed up, counted heads and welcomed back Pelt, than we found ourselves in the thick of the Third Erin War, the battle of the Cauldron to be precise. The fact that the battle happened nine years ago seemed to make no difference to those around us, nor did the fact that we were clearly not the soldiers of Maeb that we had replaced. We were facing the dragons of nine years ago, but these were not shades of the dead, for on our side we had not only those who had died (Medb, Faith, others) but also Connal, who remains very much alive. We theorised later that these were reflections from our own memories, or illusions sent by Arawn to teach us to look at things from both sides.

In the confusion which followed I spent most of my time well at the back or lying on the floor bleeding (Faith didn’t appreciate my refusal to heal her in the name of Domnu), so I missed most of it. Apparently more historically aware people than I made sure the battle played out to its past conclusion, the death of both Ash and Medb, and the beginnings of reconciliation of both sides.

After this strange interlude, we emerged into a much more normal landscape, the lands in Annwyn this side of the bridge of swords being ones where the spirits of the dead have bodies and live lives much like those they left. Our items regained their function, and we had not gone far before we received an offer of hospitality from a local lord, Gwyn. We gratefully accepted the offer, and were told that the war between Hafgan and Arawn had not disturbed this corner of Annwyn. Somewhat baffled as to the reason for us being summoned here, we rested and reflected, while some of us left on a hunting expedition to catch boars for dinner.

The expedition had gone hardly any distance when it was set upon by massive, dangerous and aggressive boar-creatures, which literally ripped one of our number to shreds. His fellows have said that the name is not to be written, so I will only tell you that it was one of the brave Dal Riadans, apparently the forty-fifth(!) of that unit to have been slain in defence of the Dragon nation in the last four years.

Returning to the camp in stunned silence, we were soon set upon by more of these creatures, and learned from the locals that these things had never been seen before. Apparently our arrival had somehow brought these creatures into being, either from nothingness or by transforming the ordinary local boars. It was at this point that we realised the purpose for which we had been brought to Annwyn. On the instructions of Pwll himself, a group of Dragons had made contact last autumn with Bloduedd, the lady of flowers. She had given us a list of tasks to perform and items and ingredients to collect, so she could create some form of item or ritual to defeat Hafgan. Sadly we had been prepared to fight Balor, not pursue the Hafgan treasure hunt, and so the list of items was not in our possession. From memories and second-hand tales we pieced together that we need Gwyn’s horn, which he would only give up if he was reunited with his lost love, Buttercup. We also needed the pelt of the Twrch Twrch, or Otherworld Boar, a legendary creature which few of us had ever heard of. However, we were now in an other world, facing giant angry boars. A connection seemed obvious.

While some of us went in search of the Twrch Twrch, another group headed to the castle of a rival lord. This lord wanted to marry Buttercup himself, and had kept her imprisoned within his castle against her will. He had also placed a geas on Gwynn and his people to prevent them rescuing the princess, a geas which we ourselves were not bound by.

I was with this rescue team, which was led by the Dwarves of Borthawr. In a display of wit and cunning which I described at the time, and now, as ‘deeply awesome’, the D.O.B. managed to talk their way into the castle, distract the lord and his retainers, disguise buttercup as one of them beneath a cloak and sneak her out of the castle. Despite some suspicions and a tense stand-off, the lord who had imprisoned Buttercup was unable to find evidence of our involvement or Gwynn’s, and thus the true loves were reunited without a drop of blood being shed. Gwynn gave us his horn with his blessing, and we were one down on a long list.

The hunt for the Twrch Twrch was somewhat less successful. The hunting party managed to find the great black boar, unfortunately it appeared almost invulnerable and able to inflict blows which no armour or flesh could withstand. They retreated without loss, and we attempted to work out how to defeat the boar with only half-remembered conversations as our guide. Blowing the horn told us the weakness of any creature, and it told us the weakness of the Boar was the Cuch Annwyn. We tried to doing a rite to summon them, but it achieved nothing (and neither did Dag’s rite of summoning honeyed lesbians, more’s the pity).

As we settled in for the night, we were visited by Othem from Operation Meatshield. He reported that our acceptance of the ritual had summoned them into Annwyn also, but they had appeared in Pwll’s court and were now helping in its defence against Hafgan’s forces. While this news calmed our fears of what might have happened to Operation Meatshield if it had been left to face the whole of Halook’s army without us, it meant that there were no Dragons in Galway. Halook could tell the people we had abandoned them.

And then wounded and unhealable dryads appeared, screaming in agony and incoherent with pain. It appeared that their trees were being corrupted, sending them slowly and painfully into Annwyn, but then their spirit bodies also died in front of us. There was nothing we could do except watch, try to offer comfort, and guess what might be the cause. The most likely explanation we could guess is that the foul Akari, minions of the mask of entropy (also known as the dragon of evil) had corrupted one of our ritual circles as they have corrupted those of other factions, spreading corruption and taint across the land. Of course, we were in no position to investigate this theory. Later, a group of Naiads (river fey) appeared in a similar state. From the two groups, some of us were somehow able to extract enough information to work out a general area of the corruption, and guess which circle(s) might be affected.

As night fell we were visited by unwelcome guests. Followers of Hafgan arrived to attempt to sway Gwynn to their cause, and were granted hospitality as we had been, so we had to tolerate their presence. Worse, the group was led by Cole O’Petra, a Dragon who had been slain by Hafganite assassins at the Gathering of Nations. Apparently his pattern had been dedicated to Hafgan, and now he served that foul usurper from the other side. This was unsettling to me, but I hardly knew Cole at all. To those who had been his friends and comrades, it was heartbreaking.

To my shame, I was overcome with exhaustion and cold after the evening meal and ended up falling asleep, awakening only the next morning. Aside from depriving the warband of my healing talents for the night, I also left the Dragons Banner in the feast hall, and apparently no-one thought to pick it up. I am told that things got very bad that night, with Hafgan assassins and pattern fatals, and by the time other Dragons went back for the banner the door had frozen shut. Fortunately, no-one died. If they had, I do not think I could ever have forgiven myself.

Blood, loss and pain (24th March 1108)
As the day began, Rhodri told us of Cyndyllyn, the Herald of Arawn made captive by Hafgan. If we could rescue Cyndylln, it would not only be a victory over Hafgan, but it would aid us in our current quest, as Arawn’s Herald could lead the hunt (at the time we thought he could also summon the Cuch Annwyn who were the weakness of the creature, but this proved unnecessary in the final event).

We set out, and immediately ran into a confusing battle. Connal was surrounded by Hafganites, but in the confusion after Cole’s reappearance and the shadows of the Erin war, it was not entirely clear to everyone that this was the real Connal who was on our side. After some unpleasantness which involved Connal being dropped unconscious by one of our warband and then healed, we learned he was here to see us and check on the situation, but had been ambushed enroute. In the battle a group of us had managed to capture Cole before he could leave, now he had left hospitality and Hafganites had attacked us. Attempts were made to lay him to rest - I do not know if they were successful, but I hope they were.

After a brief pause while Connal spoke with us, we headed out to a sacred circle where eagle-kin lived who knew of Cyndyllyn’s location. The Hafganites were out in force, but we had little initial trouble, holding our own against the standard suicidal death charges, and advancing between them.

The Eagle kin spoke to a small group of us on condition they enter the sacred circle unarmed, and as the discussion continued our scouts reported a rite to Hafgan being performed nearby. The warband outside the circle headed immediately to stop it, while those within continued the discussion. We were strung out, some of us burdened with the weapons of our unarmed truce party, others rushing ahead to stop the rite. Hafganites came in to the rear and flank, but after a confused battle we prevailed and the rite was halted. However, we did not escape without cost. Rushing bravely ahead, Skeg of the Beastkin of Kappa was slain, his body damaged beyond its ability to retain his pattern.

I was told to watch over Skeg’s body for a time, and as I did he suddenly stood up! While I did not hear the full tale until Storn told me later, this was neither miracle nor necromancy, but instead the pattern of the brave beastkin had passed to the realm of the dead, which was of course the same place that he died. Unable to stay for long with those who still lived, Skeg was still given a chance most do not have, to say his goodbyes (and to confirm his passing had not been interfered with by the Hafganite ritualist, which was another weight of our minds).

After this first-hand experience of the strange ways of Annwyn, we reunited with our diplomatic team, who had learned the location where Cyndyllyn was being held. We advanced but slowly, with waves of Hafganites assaulting us from all sides. The weather changed from rain to hail to blazing sun, and we continued our advance until, rounding a hill, we came upon a terrible force. Not only were Hafganites facing us in great number, but they were lead by our own former warmaster, Kumman Avago, now enslaved to Hafgan’s service. This force also contained Skeld, the fomor son of Balor, who had fallen in Annwyn and thus caused the war we had initially come to fight. Other dragons who had been dedicated to Hafgan on or before death also stood facing us, although I was too new to know of their names. It was clear Hafgan had known we would come, and prepared an opposing force designed to break our hearts as well as our bodies.

We attacked, our main force giving line and advancing to the front, while Osman led a flanking party over the hill to the side. The battle was hard and I was constantly busy healing and dragging back the fallen, unable to take the tactical overview I had been tasked with. At least the banner was not on my list of concerns, being held now by one of the Children of Phedes who kept it in the battle line. At times our line was so thinned by those withdrawing to repair armour or dragged back injured that I myself was forced to hold a gap for a time, despite my lack of armour.

I finally looked up to see that battle had stopped, and our line faced the Hafganite line a short distance apart. Calls were going up to carry all wounded to the banner, which I quickly obliged with. The banner’s mass healing power was activated by Gray, but it was already too late for many.

We withdrew a short distance and counted our losses, the Hafganite force letting us leave unmolested (I later learned that the Hafgan warband had captured some of our wounded, and Kumman had returned them to us on condition we withdraw). We had been defeated, and we had lost three Dragons in the process. General Sir Bloodpelt of the Gnolls, Naff (Squire to Osman), and another Dal Riadan had all passed on.

As stated earlier, the Dal Riadans do not wish the names of their fallen to be recorded here, this latest death making their total loss forty-six in the last four years. Osman had words for me though, regarding Naff, and I write these below:

“On this day we lost the most noblest of squires. His name, but not his effort, will always be Naff.
P.S. Hung like a donkey
Hail Osman”

Llwyd spoke to us then, about the pain of loss, the assurance of meeting our fallen friends after death, and the way that though we taste defeat and will do again, we shall endure and win in the end. They were heartening words that I wish I could remember exactly enough to quote, but I am sure he will have cause to speak them again soon enough. Lwyd also laid Bloodpelt to rest in the name of the gnoll’s ancestor, Crom, and the general’s body was left to decay as he would have wished. We continued back to camp, carrying with us the bodies of the other fallen.

Back at camp we considered our strategy. As the enemy force seemed superior to us in force of arms (or at least able to inflict many more losses upon us before going down), we would wait until night and attack by stealth. Until then we could do little but defend our position and wait.

Our mental and emotional state was not improved by the sudden arrival or more Dryads and Naiads, especially as these ones were coherent and angry. They demanded we act to help them without giving any suggestion as to how, and refused to accept that we were trapped here in Annwyn until our task was done. To be fair, we were just sitting around, and could not explain our true reasons (waiting for night) in case our plans were overheard by Hafgan’s scouts. Angry upset spirits of the land faced angry, upset Dragons, and things quickly descended into shouting and recrimination. After Rhodri intervened the situation calmed down somewhat, and the dryads and naiads eventually vanished (at least one was dismissed by incanters of the warband, but I believe most or all of the others just faded away. To be honest, I was physically avoiding the entire situation by this point.

Hafganites approached the camp, and we set out to do battle. A series of challenges and honour duels occurred between individual Hafganites and us, although as these challenges ended in the loser being healed by his own side, they seemed somewhat meaningless. I was carrying the banner by this point, and was worried I myself might be challenged. I still remain unsure what I would have done if I had, as I know full well I am not a warrior and would thus be torn between staining my honour by refusing, or wasting healing and embarrassing the warband by accepting and being struck down.

We returned to camp, and waited until nightfall. A group of us then set out in disguise to rescue Cyndylln by stealth and guile. Sadly the enemy quickly saw through the ruse and engaged, so a second reserve group went in as support. This group was also defeated, and a third group attempted a rescue. Survivors from that defeated force made it back to camp, which by now was looking rather short on numbers. The entire remainder of the warband marched out in a desperate attempt to save the half who were lost, leaving behind only me (a healer with no power left, no armour, no nightvision, and the banner), Amberleigh (a lightly armed and armoured healer), and Tetrys (the new mage, who unbeknownst to me had no power left either). At the last minute the Beastkin, who were tracking lurking Hafgan scouts, realised how vulnerable we were and assigned Pelt from their number to protect us.

Sadly, it did little good. No sooner were the rest of the warband out of the camp than the Hafganites scouts attacked. One proved to be a powerful incantor, freezing Pelt in place while two of them appeared out of the darkness and hacked the beastkin to the ground before disappearing into the night. Tetrys and Amberleigh dragged Pelt into a hut in the abandoned village where we had made camp (a hut claimed by Dal Riada on our arrival), leaving me to guard the door. With sword in one hand, banner in the other, and no armour, I was attacked from both sides by two Hafganite scouts. I remember thinking as I stabbed one that this was an embarrassing way to die, then I got a number of blades in me and passed out.

I woke up inside the hut, where I had been dragged and healed. Unaware they could have walked in and taken down the rest of us with hardly any difficulty, the scouts had instead fled with the banner, giving Tetrys and Amberleigh time to secure the door and heal me and Pelt. We then spent a very uncomfortable time sheltering in our pitiful refuge, being taunted from outside by Hafgan’s scouts and taking occasional spells and sword blows through windows and holes. It seemed like we were there for hours, although in truth it must have only been twenty minutes or so. Finally the entire warband returned, and we discovered that the Dal Riadan’s were more annoyed at us using their hut than glad we survived. Still, we had survived, and people were very understanding about the loss of the banner, considering the circumstances. More importantly, the rescue mission (rescuing the rescue mission for the support group for the original group) had succeeded. Cyndyllyn was alive and free and with us. Grateful for his rescue, he agreed to lead the hunt for the Twrch Twrch next morning.

On the subject of boars, a group of them arrived at the camp, where they revealed their hitherto hidden ability to speak. Their leader (the son of the Twrch Twrch) demanded weregeld for those we had killed, despite the fact that they attacked first. Osman, leading negotiations, was less than sympathetic. Quickly the situation became a fight, and the pig-people were defeated, with the promise that their leader and the main herd would seek out and destroy us.

Aside from a confused night skirmish against Hafganites and the setting up of a forward position, that concluded the night. We slept or watched until morning, hoping the next day would see our victory and return to Edreja, where we had much to do.

Pigsticking (25th March 1108)
We gathered in the morning, and were visited by Gwynn’s druid, sent to aid us in return for the aid we had given his lord. Boars was chosen from our ranks as a champion who had achieved the most in taking over from the fallen Skeg, and the druid imbued him with the Spirit of the Hunt. This done, the druid took his leave and our thanks, telling us we would always be welcome in Gwynn’s hall.

And so we set out, fighting through two groups of pig-people, many of whom now walked on two legs and wielded great polearms with a strength equal to Fomor. When severely wounded the pig people would enter a blood frenzy and charge through our lines, oblivious to pain and injury. This made fighting in formation almost impossible, and we had many of our lighter troops hacked down by frenzying pigs.

We left the path and faced the Twrch Twrch himself, along with his herd. The battle went well initially, as we held a line and those pig-people who broke through were driven off until their frenzy subsided, then hacked down. Unfortunately the number and power of the Twrch Twrch’s herd, combined with his own potency and their mad frenzies, led to our line become much more of a blur, and in the confusion either I stepped out beyond our line or the enemy turned our flank. Either way, I suddenly found myself facing a line of pigs, and my chest was crushed before I could do anything about this situation.

When I came to I discovered that we had prevailed, but barely, our line at one point being pushed far back away from the wounded. The Twrch Twrch was dead and its pelt was ours, but we had lost another Dragon, Brother Eoin of the Children of Phedes. All campaign the white-clad followers of Phedes had formed shield wall beside the D.O.B. and provided healing to our fallen, they had bled for us and now one died for us. Still, it could have been much worse. I was spared death by just a few seconds, and many others were similarly close to passing on before the warband reached us. We had lost a strong warrior, healer and friend, but we had prevailed.

Cyndylln took the meat of the Twrch Twrch as payment for his help, and then opened for us a way back to Edreja. Unfortunately, whether by accident or design, we emerged not at Galway where we left, but at Rhodri’s hall on Caer Danon. Our way back to Galway was uncertain, we were weary and short on supplies, and so it was decided that we abandon the Galway campaign and return to our homes and duties , there to await the call to face Balor once more.

Conclusion and Cost
We set out to stop Balor taking all of Galway, and in that we most likely failed. We killed many fomor and many more of their fey allies and human traitors, but we did not slay Halook, and our forced departure allows Balor to claim he has beaten us. From what we saw of things in Galway, there is little left to resist Balor, and what resistance there is will likely evaporate now we are no longer there. Balor now claims two of our provinces, and we suspect he will strike a third to pursue what he considers to be his birthright. There will be many more battles before we can reclaim Erin as our own.

We did not set out to defeat Hafgan, and yet that is what we have now accomplished. His forces were defeated and Arawn’s Herald is free to serve his master once more. Hafgan gathered all those members of the Dragon’s warband he had managed to enslave together against us, and they were all slain in the spirit world, freed from his tyranny. We are now well on our way to gathering the ingredients which will create a way to drive Hafgan back into the shadows and return Annwyn to the rightful rulership of Arawn.

We have a new enemy, or a new ploy by an old one. The corruption of our very land must be stopped, and those responsible identified and punished. If a ritual circle has been taken by our enemies it must be taken back and purified. This we will pursue as soon as we can.

Finally, the cost we paid was heavy. In all, seven dragons are dead or missing. I list them once more here so the full list can be gathered in one place (and for all of you people who took one look at the size of this document and skipped to the conclusion):
Austin Ermano McConnell, Gate Captain, Standard Bearer – Missing, presumed dead.
Two gallant Dal Riadans. Their names belong to their people. Do not forget the sacrifices made by Dal Riada – Died in Combat.
Skeg, Beastkin of Kappa – Died in Combat.
General Sir Bloodpelt of the Ujack Gnolls – Died in Combat.
Naff, Squire to Osman, 4th Troll Battalion – Died in Combat.
Brother Eion of the Children of Phedes – Died in Combat.
Heroes every one of them.

 

All Works are © Original Author

(OC Author - Alan Griffith)