Sarada scrambles up to hastily begin unwrapping the second set of logs to descend down upon the orcs who continue to push in.
The orcs spread out as they move forward. One moves in close to Kreagor, but he is waiting for him with his guisarme. He swipes towards the legs of the orc, but the orc too was ready and steps aside of the attack before lunging in with a falchion. The orc's attempt was too slow however and the hobgoblin also dodges the attack. While this is happening an orc slips behind Kreagor and attempts to get into flanking position.
Another orc with a falchion moves towards Sarada as he frees the ropes from the logs. Thinking he can sneak up behind him and get an easy dig on him, he's surprised when the gnoll deftly moves out of the way and the falchion swipes cleanly through the air missing.
At the gate the two large lizards follow the lead orc in and through the grease puddle in the entrance, taking note of the scene unfolding before them. Kreagor takes a step backwards and drops the first orc who attacked him with a well placed slash from his guisarme, learning from his last failure.
Kreagor five foot steps back and tries to hit the orc that attempted to flank him.
Renliat summons another aggresive thundercloud, focusing it on the closest opponent!
Her chance having arisen Lialda moved over towards Garri and stood beside him with a vicious grin on her face as she cast her spell. When she was down a flurry of snowballs flew from her fanned out hands and slammed into eh mass of orcs with a great deal of strength.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
While Kreagor and Sarada finish the last of the ties on the logs, the party continues their assault. Kreagor's swipe with his guisarme is not the most powerful blow, but just enough is put into the attack that the orc doubles over and collapses to the ground before him.
The chill in the air is crisp as a blast of winter erupts from Lialda's fingertips. The four orcs before her move far too slowly to avoid the attack and are repeatedly pummeled by frozen object after frozen object. Seconds after the event begins it is over, the orcs before her laying half frozen and bloodies on the ground.
The area of the battlefield suddenly near the gates darkens as dark grey clouds materials overhead. An audible hum of electricity pops as the several strikes simultaneous rain down before the wizard. It's difficult to discern the screams from within the storm from the snaps of thunder and lightning. As the sunlight begins to pass, the orc in front of the lizards now lay charred on the ground unmoving and the lizards are shaking and barely standing.
After Lialda and Renliat have loosed the elements upon their enemy and Kreagor has delivered a swift justice to his opponent, the logs are finally freed. Like the sound of dozens of stallions barreling across a field, the cacophony of the logs rolling down the hill towards the lizards drown out all other noise. Unable to find safety before them, the logs finish off what the thunderstorm began. When the logs finally come to a stop the lizards are barely visible underneath, trampled and bloodied.
From behind the party several shouts suddenly ring out. Alarmed, the party spins and prepares for a rear assault only to find a contingent of reinforcements barreling towards them. A dozen men and women nocking arrows to empty bowstrings, while another handful work on the outer portcullis. Something, or someone, had apparently jammed it in the open position. With a shout of triumph, the portcullis slammed closed, cutting off entry to the Inner Quarter for now. A cheer arose from the men and women on the walls, who turned their backs to you and began firing out into the lower town.
A burly sergeant named Stern called back down. "Kurst and his men have turned most of the horde, I think. Can't see much down there, without the beacon. We tried hitting it with fire arrows from above, but no one could get a good angle on it. We ended up scaling down from the Upper City by rope to come help you get the gates closed off."
As he spoke, the others continued to rain down arrows onto the orcs milled around the gatehouse. Despite the lament about the beacon being unlit, there was some light beyond the wall cast by the buildings that were on fire.
The exchange was interrupted by a shout of "Giant!" and the archers stopped firing on the hapless orcs and began frantically searching for the much more dangerous foe.
"Where?" "It was just there, behind Clamor!" "I don't see anything" "Are you sure." "Dammit, I know a giant when I see one." "Keep killing the orcs, dammit! We'll deal with the giant if and when it gets here."
Despite the uproar atop the walls, it appears you have a few moments to collect yourselves.
Renliat reels back and takes a breath. There better not be a giant. My magic is all but exhausted.
Sarada begins rolling his shoulders and letting out a few controlled breaths as he awaits to see if a giant does appear.
I'll be keeping this guisarme if there is a giant around.
"As much as I don't enjoy the prospect of it, we had probably better head out to find the giant and deal with it before the situation becomes any worse." Kreagor says
Hopefully we will still be a match for it in our exhausted state
The first few moments after the walls were retaken were tense, as you prepared for the assault to continue. It seemed the orcs nearest the walls had been turned to loot the houses of the Lower Town, at least for now.
From the top of the walls someone called, "We still can't get a good shot on the Hopespring beacon. One of the houses down there is burning, and the smoke is blocking our sight. Someone's gotta go and light it, if we're to have any chance at seeing the orc host before they get too close. Never mind holding the outer walls. Those'll be lost by now. Damn!"
Looking to you with a heavy sigh the sergeant calls to you, "You all! Can you get to the Hopespring and light it before we are lost? I'd send this contingent, but we need all of these men to hold this area less we lose it again."
While you are discussing the situation, several men loot the bodies of the fallen orcs and pile their arms on the ground near you. Looking down at the pile the sergeant says, "Take whatever will aid you! Go now, quickly!"
Sarada nods to the sergeant and awaits his companions to arm themselves and catch their breaths.
Lialda, in an effort to make sure there were no traps among the orcs items, cast a spell and caused her eyes to glow a pale white color as she looked the things over. The potions were obvious and of little concern but the scabbards caught her eyes. She looked up at her companions and said, "Those scabbards are magical, they have a property about them that will make a weapon kept in them for a minute or so to do a little more damage as though they'd been honed by a whetstone before it's first use." She looked at it a moment more and said, "I also believe that it will only work for an axe, sword, dagger, or a similar weapon."
"Ah, interesting." Sarada muses before looking down at greatsword and narrowing his eyes.
Renliat quickly sweeps up the healing potions. "Somebody should grab that bow, it is well made."
In an effort to move faster, Kreagor will dump some items from his pack before picking up a scabbard, a potion of cure light wounds, and an alchemist fire.
"These should come in handy." Kreagor says as he equips himself. "I am ready when the rest of you are."
After you gear up Frum remarks, "If you are heading for the Hopespring beacon, then you'll have to climb, I think. With the portcullis blocking the gate, the only way to the Lower town is over the walls. The tower to the south here might be the easiest path, as it appears to have collapsed - taking some of those damn orcs with it, thank the gods. Climbing over that might be easier than scaling the walls, unless you have good climbing gear with you."
Looking at the tower rubble, Kreagor can't help but think I wish I hadn't misplaced my rope...
He will begin to climb down the remain of the tower with his shield stowed on his back.
Staring blankly at the rubble and not knowing the quite best way to overcome this hurdle the Gnoll simply shrugs before lunging at the tower and not so much climbing but flailing swiftly over it.
It took a little bit of navigating, and one really tense moment when it looked as if Kreagor was going to slide down on his face, but eventually you made your way to the bottom of the crumbled tower, and into the Lower City. Most of the building showed obvious signs of damage, either from violent looters or fire, or both. The place was eerily vacant, with any Trunauans either dead or fled, and most of the orcs either already into the city or looting the northern reaches. There was also Kurst and his band running about skirmishing with some of the main force.
For whatever combination of events, the area is clear for the moment, and you make your way to the base of the Hopespring Falls. The Hopespring Beacon is on the far side, though it is all but invisible in the darkness. Not even the glow of the various fires in the lower town illuminated the beacon from here.
Shield in one hand, Kreagor pulls and loads his sling, readying it for any orcs who cross his path. The guisarme strapped to his back.
"We should be wary of those buildings as we approach the beacon" Kreagor will say as he begins forward.
Sarada nods as he follows along behind the Skald.
Renliat casts light on a pebble, giving it to whoever is taking lead. "Try not to lead us into a trap." He says with a slight grin.
As the last of the sun sets on the horizon, you begin moving along the banks of the Hope Pond, a sort of shallow pool where the Hopespring empties into. Cracks in the stone below allow the crisp, cool water to seep down into caverns below at a slow rate, and the pond maintains its size pretty much all year long. You know the pond isn't that deep - maybe four to five feet deep at most - but in the darkening air, it is impossible to see into the water at all.
As you moved along the bank, a sudden explosion and gout of fire erupted from where the Barterstones market usually stood, beyond the outer walls of the town.
The ruins of the houses you passed on your way to the beacon were disheartening, but you recall that anything can be rebuilt. The old adage of "where there's life, there's hope" is a cold one, but one that is more familiar with frontier folk than most.
Approaching the beacon, you can see a dead body near the stacked piles of wood.
The body brought Lialda up short and she feared who it might be. She knew the elderly druid Silvermane lived near here and he had been kind to here growing up as he was her mother's friend. She didn't think the body was his, he was too powerful to go down and not take a large number of enemies with him, but all the same she feared that it was. She considered what to do and decided that it was necessary to go out there. looking at her friends she said, "We need to get out there and we need to make sure that whoever that is is alright, not to mention we need to get that beacon lit."
Sarada solemnly nods to the steadfast Witch.
Renliat looks solemnly at the body. "We have a job to do. The dead can be attended to later."
"I'll go start the fire then check them out." Kreagor says as starts forward toward the beacon.
Kreagor hesitantly approaches the beacon, wary of his surroundings (including the body). With his alchemist fire in hand he prepares to toss it when something unusual catches his eye and he holds onto his ranged weapon at the last moment. It's difficult to discern from a distance so he moves a little closer until he can make out a fine yellow-white powder that dusts the entirety of the beacon. Unable to make the powder out he summons the group closer and consults with the alchemical expertise in the party.
Lialda crouches down and attempts to identify the substance that coats the fire pit and stones.as a powerful alchemical powder. While she's never seen this particular concoction before, she determines that it is extremely explosive and if Kreagor had tossed his fire the entirety of the beacon would have exploded in quite a large radius.
Whatever the path chosen, time is of the essence and it would be best not to dally in discussion for too long as the town is waiting for the beacon to be lit.
Lialda looked at her companions in some relief and said, "Kraegor, I'm very glad that you didn't just light that. The whole pile would have exploded instantly with devastating result. We can try to remove the powder but it either needs water, which will make the pyre hard to light, or alcohol. Does anyone have any alcohol with them?"
Sarada shakes his head. "Are there any taverns nearby?"
Ears standing on end as Sarada remembers some spoils from earlier he digs in his pack and produces the bottles of wine.
Working together the party uses the wine to wash away the powder from the beacon. Once it is deemed sanitized, the party backs up as Kreagor prepares to light the fire as originally planned.
Just before he lights the beacon however, there is a loud splashing sound, and what sounds like heavy rocks being stacked or pushed together coming from the darkness near the Hopespring falls.
Renliat puts light on a rock and tosses it over in that direction.
While the darkness effected Renliat and Lialda more, Kreagor and Sarada are able to see the danger as it began to move towards the party. With a hint of the direction, Sarada throws the light pebble into the darkness. The glowing rock illuminated the clear pond, several large rocks, and a hole in the side of the cliffs before it bounced odd a large, hairy back, and plunked into the water. The glow from beneath the cool, clear water showed four orcs, hauling on chains that were attached to each of the limbs of a giant!
The orcs began pulling at the chains and shouting, and the beast turned from the hole it had dug into the cliff face and glared balefully at you. Yanking on the chains, the orcs got the giant turned around and it splashed straight towards you, the chains on its arms and legs swinging wildly as it moved.
Sarada and Kreagor step in front while Lialda and Renliat step behind them and prepare for the inevitable battle.
Running dangerously low on magic, Renliat throws off an arrow.