Going back to the common room, Mariana looks to the others, "Has anyone seen Vashta?" she makes a point to cast her eyes over to those working, as well. "If not...with everything going on...I would say I should take a look in her room..."
Storn tries his healing magic on the nearest white sword, the one painted in the room of what you suppose belonged to Rodrik's killer. The healing magic did nothing, causing Storn to scratch his head in consternation.
Mariana, worried about Vashta's absence, ran to get Chem to open the door. The halfling woman muttered a bit, but grabbed the ring of spare keys nonetheless and followed Mariana back upstairs. She selected the appropriate key, unlocked the dor, then motioned to Mariana to go first. The archaeologist pushed open the door to find...
The room is empty of any sign of the Varisian. The bed is made, clearly not slept in at all last night.
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Quill looks to see if Molly was going to answer his question before responding to Storn.
"Yeah, I don't know why it was to look like suicide? Maybe so we wouldn't look into it?"
Quill seems concerned about Vashta, but with others looking into her, continues to categorize the loots so that they may be sold easily.
He checks his own shopping list more than once.
When others are ready to go, they go shopping.
The search of Vashta's room turns up no clues. Either she snuck out at her own volition, or someone went to a lot of trouble to take her away and leave no trace of her passing. A cursory questioning of the Ramblehouse staff and patrons yielded no clues, as no one could remember seeing Vashta since the night before.
Those that had already gone to shop for supplies that all they needed, though they didn't hear about Vashta's disappearance until after they returned. Speculation abounded on what happened to the arcanist, though no one really had any insight as to her motivations. The reserved woman may have just up and walked away for her own reasons. There was certainly no hard evidence to suggest any kind of foul play.
Storn and Quill visited the church of Iomedae, hoping to find a speak with dead scroll. However, the acolyte on duty was unable to find one, and though there were several clerics capable of casting the spell, none had prepared that particular device for the day, making ready, as they were, for the anticipated battles ahead. Storn and Quill were assured that in the morning someone would be available to question their corpse, and suggested they leave it at the Sanctuary until then.
Late in the afternoon, a member of the watch came to the Ramblehouse with a message from Kurst. The message read,
I understand you have been missing one of your companions, the lady arcanist known as Vashta. One of the gate guards reported that she passed through the postern an hour before sunrise. She was dressed for travel and had a traveling pack shouldered. I would guess that she has decided to leave Trunau, though I have no idea why.Rodrik's funeral will be held at the Flame of the Fallen, as tradition holds, at sunset. Our family would count it an honor if you would join us there. Father is greatly relieved to hear the evidence you brought back, and especially the news that Roddy did not commit suicide, as he believed.
I hope to see you there.
********************************
That evening, as the sun began to set, you gathered at the highest point of Trunau, where the largest of the beacons in town sits. The Flame of the Fallen sits in a pyramidal stone enclose like a large kiln, and is the place where the fallen of Trunau are sent to the endless freedom of the sky above. An enormous stack of wood sits in a a cradle beside the pyre, enough to keep the beacon blazing for several weeks, if necessary.
The flames have already been stoked to an intense heat by the family members, and Rodrik's corpse is already prepared, dressed in clean linens and stretched out on a bier, ready for his cremation. Rodrik's family stands closest, with a small crowd of onlookers nearby, chief among these yourselves and a softly crying Brinya.
High Priestess Tyari Varvatos officiates the ceremony, and invokes Iomedae as the arbiter of those sworn to her service to take the man's soul into her keeping, and to allow his spirit to roam free eternal. The service was brief, and then Rodrik's body was given to the flames.
Next, the High Priestess took Rodrik's hopeknife, the one you found in the Plaguehouse and returned to his brother, and held it aloft. One of her acolytes placed a handful of treated herbs into the fires, which took on a purplish hue. The hopeknife was placed blade first into the treated flames, the burnished steel immediately turning black. After a few moments, the knife was removed and plunged into a bucket of water. Brinya jerked at the hiss as the hot steel hit the water, but kept her eyes fixed on the knife and the High Priestess.
When the blade had cooled, the High Priestess held the blade out, now a uniform shade of black, not to Jagrin Grath, but to Brinya. The elder Grath's eyes darkened at this, but he held his tongue. Brinya accepted the dagger hesitantly, then tucked it into her cloak. Sobbing still, she turned and walked away.
Kurst and his father came over to you, the older man still glaring at Brinya's departing back. Kurst thanked you for your efforts on Ridrik's behalf, and even his father had some words of thanks for you. As the horizon began to eat the sun, you all stared at the flames of the pyre, and wondered at all you had learned.
Sander, dressed in the white of grays of mourning, stands stoically, blinking back tears as he puts his arm around a beautiful halfling woman who begins sobbing when Rodrik's blade is plunged into the flame and then given to Brinya.
After the ceremony, she pulls him along with her as they go to speak with the younger half-orc woman, ending with a long, tearful embrace.
Sniffling a little, he whispers a quiet word to her as she departs and returns to watch the pyre burn down.
After buying his new armour and sword, Storn shrugs at the disappearance of Vashta and sequesters himself in his room. There, he does something only reserved for the most special of occasions: he cleans himself up. A couple of hours are spent braiding his beard and hair and adorning it with the simple wooden jewelry of his people. Storn then says his prayers to Gorum as he fastidiously polishes his steel before garbing himself in the outfit of the clergy: iron and steel meant for destruction.
Storn finally emerges seeming a little serene and although no more attractive or sweet-smelling, at least a little presentable. He stands stoically at the funeral service, observing the solemn ritual and for once not saying anything.
What I need is a good bear skin. Can't go to a funeral without a bear skin. Although everyone here is depressingly sober.
"No, I think there's still plenty we don't know," Molly answers Quill's question. "We have enough to be going on with right now, though."
Molly attends the funeral, her face and all other exposed skin painted with complex curls and whorls of white and blue clay, but does not really interact with any of the attending mournets. When Roddy's survivors speak their words of thanks, she nods silently and turns away, her expression unusually sober, even grim.
"Who else is up for questioning the guards as the postern a bit?" is the first thing she asks once the group has left the site of Roddy's cremation. "Or maybe the grieving almost-widow?"
"Molly, I'm not sure that is the most appropriate timing for such questions. Perhaps the guards...but not...not Brinya."
"What do you want to question the guards about?" Sander asks, an uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of his stomach.
This is bad enough, and now we're probably going to be attacked soon.
As the sun sinks to the horizon and the sky is just darkening above, the peaceful evening is interrupted by the sound of a single blast from a horn. Shouts and screams from the town's lower quarter sounded out, drowning the lone horn. That horn was replaced by dozens of others, and a loud crash as an airborne boulder slammed into the southern tower of the lower city. Trunau is under attack!
The noise of the assault was overridden somewhat as Jagrin Grath began bellowing orders to the members of the watch standing nearby. "Omast! Get to the main gates and find out why the alarm wasn't raised earlier. And take anyone you find who is armed with you. I want these invaders repelled, and I want it done yesterday! Conal, get the youngsters and noncombatants to the Longhouse for shelter. Everyone else, grab your weapons and get to the walls!"
"Not you, Kurst! You get the beacons lit. Use this lot to help you, but get it done! Those damned greenskins can see in the dark, but our men'll need the light from the beacons to manage our defense. Go!" With that, the older man took off, heading for his office where his weapons and armor hung.
Kurst turned to you and said, "Look, I know not all of you call Trunau home, but most of you do in some form or fashion. For me, your part in investigating Roddy's death makes you militia, whether you took the oaths or not. I need your help. Those beacons need to be lit, and the people in the lower levels need to be brought up here to safety. I know it's a lot to ask, but right now, every hand must pull its own weight. You have proven yourselves capable, and I have faith in you. Are you with me?"
Before anyone can respond, a man ran up to Kurst and saluted. "Sir! Most of the watch on the towers and walls are dead, sir! Throats cut. It was an inside job!"
Kurst cursed, then turned to you. "Can you handle this on your own? It looks as if I have something else that demands my attention. Remember, the beacons are your priority. If you come across any citizens, send them up here to the Longhouse, but get those beacons lit! You got that Yelena? Get the beacons lit!" Not waiting for a response, he took off running, the militiaman by his side.
The three beacons that must be lit are the Commons beacon (J), the Inner Gates beacon (K), and the Hopespring beacon (M).
Sander gulps as he realizes his worst fear has again come true.
Looking miserable, nods, patting numerous pouches as he reminds himself where the various herbs he carries on him are.
"The Commons is closest!" he says, recognizing Quill and Yelena, but not knowing if the others are from the town or aware of where things are. "This way!"
Please be safe, Louly!
Storn looks around wildly for a moment before a grin splits his face.
"Boulders? Inside job? Hah! The Lord in Iron answered my prayers! I thought this evening would just be depressing. Let's go... to where that halfling said we should go! HAHAHAH!"
Wrenching free his new, shiny great sword, Storn roars off after Sander, clanking noisily.
With a grimace, Mariana follows Stern, keeping pace with him, she draws her dagger from her belt, ready for whatever might come. "This is bad...if only we had been focused on preparations from the moment we arrived..."
Molly strides over to Quill, grabs him by an ear - and kisses him full on the lips.
"There," she says once she breaks the lip-lock. "You back with us? I'd have slapped you in the face, but that seemed a bit counter-intuitive when you're waving the bow around. Better now? Then come on!"
Molly rams an arrow into her crossbow and winds the crank as she jogs after the others.
"Recriminations later, action now!" she calls to Mariana. "Let's go, let's go!"
The Commons beacon was indeed the closest, and still in the upper city, so it was naturally the first one to move towards. As you follow Sander around the bend in the road to the beacon, you can see a mob of citizens surrounding the beacon and two figures standing in the center.
From your slightly elevated position, it is easy to to see that one of these figures is Brinya, the half-orc woman sobbing with a terrified look on her face. The other is a merchant banker by the name of Baseil Sabask, one of the most racist citizens of Trunau. As you approach, you can hear his tirade as he gesticulates wildly at Brinya.
"...her other orc kind have been systematically weakening Trunau for years as they prepared for this attack on our homes! But we won't stand idly by and let you get away with this! You and all your other half-breeds will be strung up and dangled over the walls as a warning to any who would help the orcs. True-Trunauans will not stand for this! We will no longer put up with the corruption of your kind breeding with our men and women to dilute our strength. You think we will simply bow down to your orc brothers as they try and take this town? You, and them, are animals to be put down, mongrels and curs! And we True-Trunauans are a proud people, and a strong one, ready to fight. Right?"
This last call was echoed by many in the crowd, and more than a few glints of light flickered from metal as daggers and cooking knives were raised into the air. Brinya's pleas went unheard as Baseil roused the mob to greater heights of fury.
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*URP* Quill eyes bulge moreso than they already were as Molly's bad touching embrace take him. He hangs limply until she finishes, far too overwhelmed to even feel whelmed.
By the time she lets go, his eyes gaze around with some disoritentation until he sees the party leaving him behind.
He runs to catch up.
Marigold! What would Marigold think?
Wait, MARIGOLD!! She's in town! She might be in danger!!
Quill runs faster to catch up.
* * *
Quill doesn't stop running until he is between the townsjerks and Brinya.
He knocks an arrow and prepares to speak...
"Oi! Jackass! If you lot are so 'ready to fight', then why in the flaming name of Iomedae aren't you up on the walls?!" Molly roars. "Why haven't you bastards lit the beacon instead of bullying a lone girl?! This ain't being strong, this is picking on someone who's by her lonesome and in pain!"
Storn sees the group ganging up on the lone half-orc, and despite his constant callousness to death and destruction about him, something snaps. A low, deep rumbling starts in his chest.
"Somebody gets one try to solve this the nice way. Or I solve it."
Nonetheless, Storn starts stalking forwards, the enormous Kellid pushing right through the crowd towards Brinya and motioning over at Quill to join him in defending the half-orc.
Molly trots through the gap Storn is making in the mass of people, scowling furiously at the people all around.
Sander huffs and puffs as he races to keep up with the long-legged folks he seems to have found himself thrown in with.
"Hey," he calls, "this isn't the way we handle things in Trunau. What would Rodrik say if he saw you treat poor Brinya this way?!"
A pallor suffuses his face as he moves as quickly as his short legs can to get to help, weaving between the taller townsfolk that he's usually happy to call his neighbors.
The mood of the crowd grew uglier as Storn and Quill pushed their way through, knocking more than a couple of "true Trunauans" on ther behinds as they did. Quill's drawn weapon and Storn's obvious anger made Baseil gulp slightly, but the growls from the others in the mob pushed his spine straight again.
"Would Rodrik have wanted her kind to betray us? We know watchmen got their throats cut by her kind, in preparation of this raid. Caleb saw the bodies! you think you know better? Maybe you want this town destroyed so you can loot it with the orcs? Maybe you ain't caring what happens to regular folk around here? You an orc lover Sander? That it?"
The crowd noise began to grow with every word the man spoke. Things looked grim.
Storn stands protectively near Brinya and stares impassively at the crowd as Sander and Molly start trying to negotiate with the mob.
Looking to Baseil she shakes her head slowly, "Look at her? Does she look like the woman who has led an ambush or a woman who has lost the man she loves. I understand that you are scared and hurt from the attack, but we have to think about making sure those outside do not get in..."
"How dare you!" Sander cries, face turning red from anger. "How do you know it was a half-orc who killed the guards? There are plenty of murderous humans in this town; I'm apparently looking at one right in front of me. Every second you don't light that cauldron, you're giving the orcs and advantage and killing someone from Trunau, whatever their race is! At this point, I care far more for the people out there fighting to protect my wife and business than I do for you useless lumps who apparently want to help them!"
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Quill stands tall behind his militia leader, Yelena, in staring down the crowd.
He is tempted to say something on his own, but knows his lack of gravitas would just seem silly.
He will, however, stand close to Brinya and actively try to protect her with his body.
This is madness! We're under attack!!
As Mariana and Ssander talked, some of the crowd began to move away, their shame at their combined actions evidenced by how fast they tried to distance themselves from the ringleader. Baseil himself looked a little taken aback, his attitude shifting from obviously hostile to something more uncertain. Of course, when Yelena raised her hammer at him, his spine stiffened once more.
"Don't you threaten me, you dwarf whelp! You talk as if you are a watch captain instead of a girl child still living under her parents' protection. Your own family is in danger because of the orcs and their half-breed kind. And you have the gall to threaten me? I say toss her and all the other half-breeds over the wall and see how much danger we are in after! We can't be safe until all the orcs are removed from this city's walls."
As he spoke, two other men and a beefy woman stepped up behind him, glaring at you with stout clubs in their hands. Apparently, the threat of violence was enough to cause some in the crowd to take a stand.
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"This is treason, Baseil" Sander calls back. "And you, Hektir, Cargas, Raven: You think I don't recognize you standing back there too? If we survive this attack -- and we will, if you don't stop hindering us, children -- they'll throw you out of the city next. Do you really think Brinya is the problem in this city? What about Sara Morninghawk? Would you throw the councilor out of the city too? Who would make our weapons then?! Go stand on the walls and fight real orcs, not our neighbors!"
Baseil didn't back down at Sander's words, but more of the crowd slipped away. In moments, less than half of the original mob still stood around Brinya, and other than Baseil and his backup squad, the others looked very uncertain.
Having had enough of this, Storn mutters a prayer under his breath.
"Gorum, veita mér á stærð við björn... RAAA"
As Storn finishes chanting, he grows rapidly in size until he stands a good ten feet tall! He draws a great sword the size of a table and sets his gaze squarely on Baseil.
Storn waits a moment and then yells again.
At Storn roar, even Baseil quailed. Nervously he looked behind him to find his close compatriots already departing with haste. Looking back, he glared at Brinya one last time and then bolted, leaving behind a confused and chagrined pack of people who suddenly found better things to do during an imminent raid.
As the mob dispersed, the sounds of the orc horns grew louder, and flaming boulders crashed into the town, knocking over buildings and setting some on fire. Whatever war machines the orcs had secretly brought to bear were devastating.
With the crowd gone, Brinya rushed Storn and hugged him, clinging to the big man, still sobbing. "Thank you, oh thank you! I didn't know what to do. That bastard has always been hateful to me, but I never thought...not in Trunau...not like this..." Brinya broke into more sobbing.
As Storn uncomfortably held the woman, Yelena took the pragmatic action of lighting the Commons beacon with a nearby torch. The oil-soaked wood blazed high, lighting the area around you with a warm yellow glow.
Seeing the fire, Brinya pulled the now-black hopeknife from her cloak and pushed it into Storn's hands. "Take this. Roddy's still watching out for me, it seems. And, when the time is right, he will watch out for you as well."
As she finished, she stepped back, cuffing the tears from her cheeks. "Go! Finish what you started. I'll get the children to the Longhouse. Go!" And with that, Brinya turned into the darkness, calling out for anyone not headed to the walls to make their way to the Longhouse.
Looking down, Storn saw that the dagger was flat black along the blade, but the edge seemed sharper than any dagger he had held before. Plus, it seemed that there might even be something magical about it.
Mega-Storn staggers back a bit, unused to the affection. Afte a moment, he pats Brinya with a hand the size of a pig. He stares down at the tiny hopeknife in his hand until his hand begins returning to normal size along with the rest of him.
" upon their betters when they are afraid. Be safe and uh... thank you. Go with my blessing!"
Storn looks at the knife, not saying much. He mutters a couple of quick prayers after Brinya runs off.
"Right! Where we going next?"
The powers imbued in dagger you hold in your hand open themselves to your arcane sight. The hopeknife is now a +1 dagger. 1/day the bearer can grant the weapon ghost touch for 1 minute. During this time, the dagger shines light equivalent to a daylight spell and the wielder gains a +3 sacred bonus against disarm and sunder attempts directed at the hopeknife.
Sander shakes his head as the crowd breaks up.
After Brinya leaves, he turns sternly to Storn.
"I hope you realize what that knife symbolizes, young man," he tells the exuberant priest. "It's quite a gift she just made to you."
He fingers his own hopeknife, hanging at his throat, hoping he'll never need to use it.
"I hope you realize what that knife symbolizes, young man," he tells the exuberant priest. "It's quite a gift she just made to you."
"I chose Trunau as my home after it was taken from me. It is good to be chosen back. I understand what this means."
I think.
Storn clanks off noisily after Quill, his new hopeknife bouncing against his massive holy symbol of Gorum.
"FIST!" he thumps Quill enthusiastically.
"To stand up to an angry mob is great bravery Quill. Normally you have to be the target of a few of them until you get a taste for it. There's hope for you yet."
Sander shakes his head as he rushes as fast as he can behind his bigger companions.
He wishes her were closer -- and weren't gasping for breath from all this blasted running! -- so he could talk to Quinn.
Don't listen to him, lad. OK, yes, that was brave, but you don't want to be like that man, I don't think...
Together, the group managed to reach the gate in the curtain wall between Upper Trunau and the Inner Quarter. A loud crash was heard, and someone shouted that the Bloodmarch tower was fallen. Shouts and screams from the Inner Quarter rose and fell, and through the portcullis, you can see flames flickering and the sight of many figures in various stages of combat, life saving, and fire fighting.
One of the men at the gate said "You going through? Right, then, be quick about it. The portcullis comes back down as soon as you are through, and we aren't likely to open it if there's any orcs nearby." He looked up at the top of the wall to signal someone above.
Following his gaze, you also look up the 20-foot high wall to see the crennelated top, interspersed with 30-foot high guard towers. The walls and towers bristled with archers and crossbowmen.
As you looked about, Kurst Grath appeared, with a squad of militiamen in full gear. He is splashed with blood, and has a grimlook on his face as he says "Kristoff, get that portcullis open! The Inner Quarter is under assault already! Damn orcs got through the main gate with hardly any losses. I'm going to push back the main contingent, and destory whatever it is that's sending the boulders down on us. I still can't believe the orcs got a siege weapon in so close without any of our scouts seeing signs."
Turning to Yelena, he said "Yelena, secure the Inner Quarter as best you can, and get those last two beacons lit. Get any non-combatants to the Longhouse, and clear out any orcs you find along the way. It isn't going to be easy, but you have my faith. You all do."
As he finished speaking, the portcullis lifted with a shriek of metal on metal, and he and his men trotted through. Kristoff, waved you through, shouting "GO, GO, GO!"
As soon as all of you had passed through the portcullis, it came back down with another squeal and a resounding crash.
The Inner Quarter is in complete disarray. Rubble covers the ground as many buildings have been shattered, or partially destroyed. From the gate you can see that the lighting the beacon will not be an easy task, as the wood has been scattered and the beacon itself destroyed. On the other hand, the orcs have set enough buildings to burn that the lack of the beacon's light will not be a problem.
Dark is now fully upon Trunau, and the smoke from the fires diffuses the light from the fires so that it is difficult to see.
Immediately in front of the gate, about twenty feet or so, a hastily erected barricade has been constructed. Made primarily of carts, furniture, and sharpened poles, the barricade is already covered in the spilled blood of raiders and defenders alike, and still bodies attest to the ferocity of both. Many victims of the bloody fight lay screaming or whimpering in pain as the clerics of Iomedae triage the wounded and tend to the wounds as best they can.
Kurst, already across the barrier with his squad, called back to you, "Bring any survivors you find here, and the clerics will see to their injuries and that they get into the upper city. Forget the Inner Beacon, just help clear the Inner Quarter." With those parting words, he and his squad disappeared into the smoke.
The smoke makes it difficult to see. Dim lighting is now in effect. 20% miss chance unless you have darkvision or low-light vision.
Here's the map
I won't be putting in all the figuers you see unless you are actually in combat to keep MapTool from choking.
Explore/defend/rescue/attack as you will, just give me enough description to know where you are going - "I walk up to the barricade and demand to know how I can help, or "We sweep the buildings on the east side to clear them of any raiders".
"Didn't Kurst's boss just tell us to light Inner Beacon?" Looking to Yelena, "Why don't we do anything we can to find survivors on our way to each beacon? Head to the other one first and see what we can do for people." Mariana pauses for a moment as an idea hits her. Then she reaches into her pouch and pulls out a small stone and releases it, the stone lifting up from her hand and then beginning to slowly circle her head with the light of a torch.
Then she reaches over and touches Storn's weapon and casts Light so that it, too, glows with the light of a torch.
Sander nods at Mariana's words and gives her a worried-looking smile as she creates light.
He pulls out a stone from a pouch and douses it with liquid from a vial, which he then tucks carefully into the pouch on his belt. Setting the stone in his sling, he carefully holds it so it won't fall out.
"If we do run into any orcs, hopefully this'll help," he says grimly.
Please be safe, sweetheart!
From the gate you can see that the lighting the beacon will not be an easy task, as the wood has been scattered and the beacon itself destroyed. On the other hand, the orcs have set enough buildings to burn that the lack of the beacon's light will not be a problem.