Calla is not happy with Arakan's outright lie, but can see no realistic way to take it back. So she smiles and holds her peace, and collects new weapons from the store. She picks out a sturdy looking althulak, the three-pronged flail she favors. Following Irivis, she looks for some basic survival gear also.
She binds the worst of her wounds, asking Gorad's help with the bandages.
Feeling fractionally better prepared, Irivis heads out to the walls.
Arakan, a little rested from the breather, and feeling more comfortable now that he has a weapon he can use at a distance, takes in the little outpost as he moves around the place. He keeps an eye open for those that look to have all that he is in the market for, money, power, and influence. He takes mental notes of anything he finds, and ends his rounds near the one who identified himself as Grak. "We appreciate your hospitality, in this dangerous situation most of all. Any idea what has caused them to gather like this?" He presses how informed the man is by adding, "You think it has anything to do with that big flash and boom to the south a few nights ago?"
Emerging from the armory, Calla looks for someone in authority. "Where can we best help? On the wall? By the gates? We're all in this together."
Irivis looks for a section of wall she can use as cover.
Jareen will stick by Irvis for want of something better to do.
Still sticking close to Irvis.
Calla calls to the others, "I'm heading to the walls - anyone with me? Gorad? Your aid could make the difference in the thick of the fighting."
Calla heads into the barrack's tower and up the stairs. She intends to defend the gatehouse, or wherever else the fighting looks fiercest.
Arakan heads to the gatehouse, trying to look as if he is in a place to make decisions, but nothing suits an Athasian Bard better than having murder holes available. It's like they were made just for him.
Refreshed and reinvigorated, the party head up to help on the walls.
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Gorad attemps to follow Calla.
Irivis makes her way up the steps easily enough, but her lame leg betrays her as she attempts to get behind cover.
Arakans path up the stairs is hindered by his determination to remain completely unseen.
The group arrive at the top of the wall, though a couple of them slightly out of breath, and manage to dodge the incoming darts from the siltrunners outside as they make for the gatehouse. Once there they can assess the scene. The main body of the siltrunners are massed by the gate, hacking away at it somewhat impotently, while a smaller group look on from a distance out of bow range. In the gatehouse, most of the guards snipe through arrow slits, while a pair are heating clay jars filled with sand to pour over the attackers.
Calla makes it to the top with quick nervous steps, and pauses to assess the scene. "Jareen, Irivis, is that group over there doing anything that should concern us?" Calla points at the small group of silt runners some distance away. She is concerned about rituals and meteors.
Jareen looks out over the small army, looking for any magic users, or leaders he can see.
What with the climbing and ducking out of sight, Irivis is no more capable of recognising an arcane ritual than she is capable of flying.
"I have no idea Calla, but thinning the herd at the gate can't hurt."
Jareen quickly identifies that the little group of siltrunners seems to be watching and directing the attack, not performing some profane ritual.
The sergeant in the gatehouse turns to the newcomers and ask, "So, if you are here to help, look lively and give us a hand."
"That small group on the ridge would seem to be in control. If we can remove the head of this Z'Tal then the attack will crumble."
Arakan looks to the murder holes, to drop a few well placed bolts, from the safety of tiny little holes in the ceiling above the silt runners.
"How can they hope to get in with no siege equipment?" Calla wonders aloud. "I don't even see any ladders!"
She decides to help the teams heating sand - that will be the most effective weapon against he massed hordes. She also keeps an eye on the gates, ready to get involved if melee seems likely.
The sergeant looks at Jareen calculatingly. “So, you got a plan for cutting off this z’tal’s head, then?”
Jareen looks around at the others concentrating on the immediate and taking not an ounce of notice of his wise words. He slowly becomes furious. Turning to the sergeant he says "You have no weapons with a decent range? No way we can get around this main body and attack their commanders? Then no, I am as impotent as you are."
"I don't have a heavy catapult, no, now you come to mention it," he replies sarcastically, "Since that's the only thing that will hit them from here. But if you've got a plan, maybe you can run it past the boss. Then with any luck you'll f!#$ off and maybe get killed. Now, if you aren't going to help here, maybe you can muck out the crodlus or something?"
Jareen mutters something under his breath about "low born" and and lack of manners, and then replies "As should be quite obvious, even to your lack of vision, I am completely unarmed! Rectify that situation, and I will endeavour to help defend this crodlus pen."
Irivis jabs Jareen in the ribs.
"Shut up."
"We may be able to deal with that problem over there."
She casts around to see where Arakan is lurking, knowing he must be within earshot.
Jareen gives Irvis a slightly hurt looks, and begins "But!" before obviously thinking better of it. To the sergeant he says "Forgive me, tempers are frayed, do you have a sling or some such I could use to do some little help?" hoping his distraction will help cover Irvis' magic use.