Amelia Frodedottir barely dragged herself back to Þýdal from the scouting of Hearthforge. While recovering from the edge of death, she warned the village that a large army of goblins, orcs, and giants was forming and aimed squarely at them. The horde was still busy occupying its latest conquest and rebuilding war machines, so the villagers had a short window to prepare.
Jarl Hoffer Magnuson called a Thing. A few people wanted to flee, but most chose to stay and defend the home they had come to love. Gobber Haraldson suggested a timber-pole palisade and was put in charge of building it. One small group set out to recruit warriors from nearby villages. Another went a few days' travel north to investigate a recent meteor, hoping star metal might make incredible weapons; they returned from a hazardous journey with a large amount of the fallen metal. The smiths of Þýdal forged it quickly. When one of the new weapons showed magical properties, Alwin Silverthorn remembered old stories of a wizard's tower.
That search led to The Amber Tower, where adventurers freed Fróð Erikson from roughly three centuries of magical imprisonment and secured him as an ally.
A little over a week later, a scout reported the army on the move. The horde had been building a crude road through the swamp so it could bring its war machines. The villagers scrambled for the next two days to finish as much of the defenses as they could.
The attack came on a bright, cloudless, chilly night under a full moon. The rumble of war machines in the distance gave warning before the sentries shouted. Everyone knew the plan. Women and children herded what animals they could and drove them to the docks, where the longboats stood ready in case a retreat was necessary.
Giants crashed through the trees first. The defenders answered with stones, arrows, and every spell they had. Then orcs and goblins poured from the treeline in numbers greater than anyone had expected. Their rough-hewn war machines hurled flaming balls that set the palisade alight and rammed the wall with great force.
When Fróð called down a huge ball of fire—catching two giants and a gaggle of goblins—Hoffer and Gobber jumped from the wall and attacked wildly with sword and axe. Amelia and other warriors followed. Amelia swung her Dane axe with gusto, felling many goblins, revenge plain on her face.
Kris Stormblade leapt into the fray, slashing orcs with seax and dagger while lightning burst from his mouth. Melody Marigold flittered about the field, singing praise to bolster her friends and skewering goblins with rapid rapier strikes. Screech Hawthorne flew overhead dropping glowing stones until goblin arrows forced him down; he turned into a giant spider, shooting webs that slowed the enemy for the wall archers, then became a giant wolf and tore into the goblin horde. Sanura Sefu, with a magnificent spear that shot lightning, flame, and ice, killed several orcs before she too took wolf form and ripped into the crowd. Isar Geirson held the palisade top, bolts of flame leaping from his fingertips at any climber. Sally Swift raced the field, blasting enemies away from the fallen and carrying comrades to safety.
When Thordak Faerdhal struck a giant with his star-metal warhammer, the giant staggered him in return—but as the giant's fist landed it was wrapped in lightning. Thordak answered with a wave of thunder and the giant fell. The villagers cheered, but the numbers were still too great.
Then more forces burst from the northern woods: the promised goliath support. With Tor, Crag's father, leading the charge, they nearly broke the northern wing of the invading army.
As the fight wore on, ammunition, magic, and hope ran thin, and the wooden palisade began to fail. Hoffer called a strategic retreat to the docks. The goliaths melted back into the woods toward their mountain homes. Fróð twisted in place and vanished, presumably returning to his tower. The rest of the villagers boarded the longboats and shoved off downriver as hard as they could row, Hoffer shouting that he would one day reclaim his home.
At Aunet they paused briefly. Hoffer told the people there what had happened: the defenders had killed at least three giants, dozens of orcs, and perhaps as many as a hundred goblins—and the remaining army was still larger than that.
Near sunrise they reached Gressli, stopped longer to eat, and Hoffer again carried the warning. By afternoon they made Mebonden, ate on the shore, and slept beside their boats. In the morning they rowed out of the river and across the fjord to Niðaróss.
In Niðaróss they were met by Anidori and other young folk who had helped raise extra defenders and prepare the town in case the battle at Þýdal went poorly. Many local longhouses had bits of red cloth tied near their doors to show they would take in strangers who needed temporary shelter.
Þýdal fell, but its people did not vanish. The night became a wound, a rallying cry, and the beginning of the wider defense that would culminate in Fires at the Fjordgate.