Grettir surveys the field of battle. He is the last man standing. Lingering motes of light and fire that had been Vandemar, the Hell Knight, settle and extinguish upon the cold ground. Around him lie prone figures both friend and foe. Grettir is somewhat seared by Vandemar’s final self-immolation as it was dispatched it once more to the Hell whence it came. Yet his wounds are already healing. “The Gods love best those who make their own fortune.” Grettir might have perished several times over but for the ivory rune-amulet he had traded for in Skagnar that steadily repaired his wounds during the fight. As he faced down the Hell Knight to win the field his armour might be rent and blasted but his flesh was whole.
From his pouch he withdraws an ivory wand and snaps it. Soon a battlefield medical team from the Chittagong Guild of Surgeons would respond to its signal and arrive to succour the wounded. “The Gods love best those who make their own fortune.” He had bought this from the Guild of Surgeons many years ago at a cost of twenty talents of gold. He would account it a worthy investment if all his brave companions could be brought back to health by their prompt intervention. Checking the bodies, he is confident that most would recover. Salrod is even conscious – though perhaps wishes otherwise – as Grettir prises him from the Wall of Ice on which is crucified by terrible sorcery. Just one of his fallen foes still stirs lived. He feared the worst for Ironbar Styrbjornsson, pierced with many wounds and struck by sorceries as he laid about him in berserk fury with the weapon from which he took his name that seemed to sing and ring with every blow.
Grettir had only known Ironbar but a couple of months. He had turned up on Grettir’s doorstep bringing yet another warning of impending storm, this time from Ironbar’s father Styrbjorn. The long awaited typhoon had arrived in the Otanga Estuary on All Hallows Eve. As it swept towards Sequarl, Girindor, supported by Gadan and a handful of other Rangers strong in Earth Power, had stood upon the the Eagle Tower of Sequarl Castle, its highest point, wrought of Black Rock in the Days of Empire. By their combined efforts they abated its deadly energy so that little damage was done either to the castle nor the town below.
In the hours before dawn a lone figure had approached the castle gate under a herald’s white banner. Vandemar, the Hell Knight, had been summoned to punish Grettir for his crimes against the Chaos Gods. He boasted of his countless past conquests over many centuries and spoke of Grettir’s death at his hands as if a matter foretold. He offered single combat with Grettir, or invited Grettir to meet him with selected comrades and he would do likewise. The alternative was war. Grettir sent him on his way, saying that here he stood and that the Hell Knight would know where to find him.
Just after dawn Melangier, an emissary of the Triton League, reported that a Ship of the Dead had sailed up the Rin in the wake of the storm and disappeared into the Wood of Itaen. It had aboard an Ilithid – a Mind-Flayer – a High Priest of Pyray the evil god of the Deep. A mighty sorceror in its own right, it could tamper with and consume the minds of mortals. This caused Grettir to reconsider his position. If the Orcs of Itaen had been reinforced – as it seemed – by the forces of Pyray, it might mean an ill winter for his folk. Word was sent to Itaen that the challenge was accepted. There would be seven.
Grettir came, as appointed, to Ythil’s Finger – a spire of rock on the western border of Sequarl and a place of ill-omen. It was sunset on the night of the full moon. With Grettir were Paradoxides, Salrod, Hilda, Girindor, Wilf and Ironbar – for Styrbjornsson would not be denied when it came to choosing the party to face the Hell Knight and his cohorts. They watched in silence as a mighty palanquin approached, carried upon the shoulders of two orc bands, chained to it and to each other. Atop the palanquin was a black pavilion. As they set it down, there issued forth a hooded figure that Grettir took to be the Illithid, three (yes, count them, three) Mountain Trolls, a Pit Fiend, and mounted upon a Giant Spider, Vandemar himself.
There was no preamble: both sides moved to engage. As they approached the Hell Knight conjured several Walls of Ice, while the Ilithid cast another wrought of tentacles that sought to catch and strangle all that came in reach. This had the effect of dispersing the fight into many seperate struggles. In the early exchanges Grettir and Ironbar took down the Mountain Kings – though Ironbar was sorely wounded and entrapped by the Ilithid’s writhing wall of tentacles. Paradoxides supported them with lightning bolts from the air but was cast down by the Pit Fiend. It, in turn, was blasted from the sky by Hilda’s magic. Salrod and Wilf kept the Hell Knight and his arachnid steed busy. Girindor faced off against the Ilithid and fared poorly. Its tentacles were wrapped around the elf’s head, probing his brain when Grettir arrived and slew it.
Vandemar himself played a strange and cautious hand, standing off from the main fight with his spider mount, watching as its allies were dispatched. Then he uttered a couple of dreadful Words of Power. Only Grettir and Salrod resisted the effects of these ancient runes – the others fell stunned to the ground as if dead or were paralysed. The Hell Knight moved to engage the survivors. Salrod slew the spider steed while Grettir traded blows with the Vandemar. He had a Dancing Sword that fought beside its master. Salrod kept it busy while Grettir traded blows with Vandemar. Suddenly, the Hell Knight disengaged and ran from the two heroes. They gave chase but Vandemar was not fleeing. As Salrod passed between Vandemar and an ice wall, the Hell Knight cast a spell. Salrod to whirled through the air and was splayed upside down upon the ice wall pinned with metal spikes through his hands and feet. Grettir had seen this before. It was how he’d found Wurra crucified to the hull of the Kistin in Kos.
Now only two were standing. The Hell Knight charged. Grettir stood firm. His healing amulet from Skagnar had been doing its work all this while and he was as fit as he had been at the beginning of the fight. As Vandemar drew near Grettir hurled his Holy Spear, blessed by Osiris, hitting the Hell Knight square in the chest. Vandemar literally exploded a few paces from Grettir, but Grettir had his protections from fire and the force of the fiery blast dissipated around him. “The Gods love best those who make their own fortune.” The Hell Knight was gone.
While the Surgeons work on his companions, Grettir walks over to the palanquin where the orc bearers still cower in their chains.
“I am Grettir Strongarm, Lord of Sequarl that you call the Stone King. See what I have wrought here and how your Dark Lords and Mountain Kings have fared against me. Return now to the Wood of Itaen and tell what you have witnessed here. Never return to Sequarl”.
The field was strewn with treasures and one of the Mountain Kings was taken from the field, laden with chains. This was a good day for Sequarl and its allies.
E-14
OE Date: Autumn 691
Characters: Grettir, Salrod, Paradoxides, Girindor, Wilf NPCs: Hilda, Ironbar
Real World: April 1998 ; Where – Marsden
See also Salrod’s Diaries