A winter horrorland story by Porridge Marten, the chronicler of the Game of Cronies
Winter is supposed to be relaxing –wine, women, and song – or so thought King Robheart Brightneon snug in his bed that early morning when the first trebuchets of the Wormlanders fired upon and rattled the walls of Binge Landing. To his surprise and everyone else in the besieged city, an assault in the dead of winter was the last thing that was expected. Runtly Brightneon and Brie the Tart led the attack; siege engines fired, and twenty army units attacked Robheart’s four foot units and one unit of dismounted crossbowmen. The Kingsmen were outnumbered four to one. Both sides were evenly matched in magic users at four each.
“Now what!” yelled out the discomforted King. “I hope Slimey doesn’t have a hangover from last night’s feast, the drunken fool. Signal his fleet to draw near shore and bombard Runtly’s attackers.”
Ser Embarristan Slimey, unsteady though he be, brought his three war galley squadrons close to shore and showered Runtly’s beleagured troops with arrows.
“Let’s hope Binge Landing’s walls won’t crumble today,” he roared to his page. The page struggled to get armor strapped over his lord’s expanding stomach.
It was a tough battle for both sides, yet once again, the besieged repulsed the host from the Wormlands. Robheart lost a unit, but his brother, Runtly, had twice as many losses. Runtly continued his failures on land as his forces had at sea thoughout the year.
Robheart laughed heartedly, “Bring me some wine. I have a great thirst to quench”