Hoping that his armor will protect him, Snorri rises to his feet, clutching the shield.
With a grunt, he swings his axe at the standing orc, but his blow is weak and easily dodged. Half a curse between his teeth, he steadies himself.
Hoping to take out the healer, the two orcs to the north launch a volley of bolts at Glenda.
The remaining scimitar wielding orc maneuvers to the side and attacks Nalnera.
Ivy attempts to tumble behind that orc.
Iverna puts herself in harms way, clearly all in on the side of our heroes.
Round 4, for those of who are still up.
Round 4
Dasur feels the fatigue weigh heavily on his mind- an opressive blanket that smothers his thoughts and signals the bottoming out of his arcane energies.
Still, the wizard has a few tricks up his sleeve, and one comes naturally as breathing.
His thick fingers flick a series of simple symbols with incredible dexterity, and he slams the butt of his staff into the stone floor. The rock gently bubbles and churns beneath the contact of wood and stone for a moment, and then shoots towards Iverna's orcish foe.
The roiling stone intensifies its bubbling until it touches the orc's boots- a cracking emanates from the rock and a cloud of foul, acidic vapors hisses through a fissure to assault the creature's lungs.
I'm honestly not sure of my best option. I am not confident in my ability to fight the remaining two orcs off (I only have a +3 to attack right now) but... I can't spend the time to kill the downed foes so that I can channel to heal people back up, and I'm out of first-level spells to convert into healing.
Many a dwarf in a dire strait of battle has charged headlong at the foe, gripping hammer or axe in both hands and shouting warcries or simply an unintelligible roar.
Glenda is not like most dwarfs.
She steps away from Dagmar, knowing full well that if she does not manage to end this fight decisively, her companions will die on the field. She moves stubbornly and steadfastly, like Death advancing upon the black orcs.
She reaches the orc with the crossbow but, instead of swinging her hammer, she points with it. "This is the end for you," she says to the orc with no melee weapon. "Flee if you think you can."
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The orc with the crossbow fumbles with his bolts, attempting to reload. He is put off by these magical surface dwarves, and briefly forgets his training. Glenda takes full advantage of his discomfort, crushing his skull with her hammer.
The final orc considers retreating, but deserters are not treated well, either by the drow (who fleshwarp them) or by the orcs (who do worser things). Even after seeing Glenda strike down his foe, he screws his courage to the sticking place, ramps up his savagery, and steps in to attack Glenda. He puts all of his strength behind the blow, attempting to strike down this dwarven witch. But his attack strikes only steel as she turns his blow aside with hammer and armor.
He is caught in Glenda's trap as the acid rune lashes out, burning him.
Iverna hesitates, whispering in halting dwarven, "Magrim's balls, Glenda, what a blow--" Without a flank or distraction to allow her to place her blow carefully, Iverna can't do much damage, and so she decides to provide a distraction for Glenda, swatting at his scimitar, hoping to drive it out of position.
Glenda edges to her right, incidentally giving Dasur a clear line of fire (since Dagmar is prone and thus not blocking). She swings her hammer again with much less precision.
"Dasur! Burn him down!" she shouts.
Dasur is momentarily awestruck when Glenda turns one of the orc's braincage into pudding. The gods aid us! The earth aids us!
As Glenda moves out of his line of sight and calls upon his magics, the wizard's actions were a foregone conclusion. He gestures a series of arcane symbols and slams his staff into the ground once more- subtle tilting of his staff reveals he is steering the roiling mass of acidic vapors as they travel under the stone.
The bubble bursts under the orc's feet in a foul, yellow, sulphrous cloud that aims to choke the life from their final standing foe.
Finally, the final orc coughs blood and collapses atop his fallen comrade, his scimitar clattering across the cavern floor.
Making sure he stays down, Iverna draws her dagger across his throat, carefully avoiding the spray of black blood.
"Finish the rest before they can recover, I'm pretty sure that one beside Snorri is coming around...I guess we've committed to being enemies of Duchess, now. Should I finish off the Captain, or do we want to wake him up and have a conversation?"
It is a simple matter to brain the remaining orcs.
Glenda says, "Must see to everyone's survival first."
She undertakes actions in the following specific order:
1. Stabilize any allies who are still dying.
2. Stabilize the drow.
3. Move the drow 35' away from the nearest surviving party member.
4. Get in the midst of the party and channel healing power.
Dasur watches the last orc fall, breathing a deep sigh of relief. He attempts to stand up straight, but the crossbow bolt in his side makes him flinch into a hunched over posture. "Help the others Glenda. Iverna and I will shuffle these dreadful orcs from their mortal coils. I had not imagined the black orcs were so strong. I thought the stories were exaggerations. I hear they have bred them for millennial, perfecting their physical bodies as humans breed horses." He rambled while shuffling over to the grouped orcs surrounding the drow.
His speaking briefly stops as looks at the staff in his hands and then back to the orcs, deciding that a bit of dead surface tree would not be enough to kill these beasts. Glancing to the ground for a better implement, Nalnera's battleax is found to be close at hand.
He scoops the weapon off the ground, feeling the weight of the perfectly balanced relic in his hands. "Dammerhall craft, no doubt... How long has it been since this blade has tasted orc blood? It must be thirsty." The wizard mumbles, going back to the orcs and separating their heads from their necks with a methodical chopping motion, taking care not to blunt the ax on the stone below.
Black blood drips from the ax as he looks ponderously to the drow. "He did offer to let us live, which was rather kind. But unfortunately this one is a skilled spellcaster and would be a danger to be left alive. Of course, we could try to ransom him for passage through Vothys if he's important enough, but knowing the dark elves they would simply laugh at as and fire volleys of arrows without any concern for his safety in an effort to kill us."
Dasur shrugs, turning to Glenda as the healing waves wash over him, and the bolt in his side pops out in an almost comical fashion.
"The fate of that one is in the hands of our sovereign. He might yield answers, though determining their veracity could be difficult; or he may simply face the axe. I hardly expect he shall experience any mercy, as he has already shown that he is cut from the same cloth that is the storied stereotype of drow," says Glenda as she checks over the groaning dwarfs while they awaken, and offers her hand to help Snorri to his feet.
Snorri takes Glenda's hand and rises to one knee with a slight grunt of pain, coughing up a bit of blood. He keeps his hand interlocked with hers for a moment, enjoying the peaceful contact after the bloody violence. "Ah, Glenda, aren't you a sight for sore eyes. Outstanding work, you all. You saved our lives, you certainly saved mine. I'm in your debt." And a debt that the throne of Dammerhall shall repay thricefold.
The scion of the Tharnhammer takes a moment to check his armor and weapon, while examining the surroundings. You would defer to my decision, wouldn't you? You would follow me, into battle, into war, even if we marched towards the Hells. Aren't you worried that I was knocked out? Are you aware of the responsibilities you are thrusting over myself? Oh, Earth Immortal, make it so that I be worth of this trust.
"The drow could be useful, if we are to infiltrate the fortress. It's as you said, Dasur, I wouldn't stake a bet on his kind doing anything for him. Which means that his best chances of survival lie with him helping us. Of course, I wouldn't trust him further than the blade of my axe is far from the handle. Is there any way you can keep him from doing magic, Dasur? Tying his hands, perhaps?"
Dasur bows his head slightly to their Dwarfish Lord upon seeing his return to consciousness. "Before he was subjected to my Color Spray spell, he was loading a hand crossbow. This indicates to me he was out of typical arcane spells. As an extra precaution he could be bound and gagged- there are very few casters capable of weaving spells without verbal or somatic components. However, some drow are capable of magical abilities that they seem to will into existence with mental power alone. The source of this power has been the topic of much debate among arcane schools. Is it a special organ only they possess? Why can some do it, but not others? A gift from their dark gods, bestowed on the faithful? Can it be learned? It reminds me of the spell-like abilities of some fey creatures, in particular..."
It doesn't look like he's going to stop anytime soon, but Snorri has spoken to the wizard long enough to know the answer lies within, somewhere, and he can tune out.
"... In conclusion, because of the interference of the close proximity of the astral plane, tracking ley-lines using coordinate angles on a 4-dimensional grid system is far superior to the traditional 3-dimensional approach." Even though there was no possibility anyone was listening to him anymore he has a satisfied look on his face. I explained that well enough for them to understand, certainly.
Remembering the original topic, he looks to their scion. "Ah, did I answer your question, Snorri? Oh, I need to study that drow's spell book, excuse me..." Dasur hustles off with a speed only witnessed in the recent battle.
"We could just cut off his hands. Or deafen him. Can't hear his own voice, can't cast spells. I guess if we want to talk to him we can't cut out his tongue, but that would also work."
Iverna seems to have developed a bit of blood lust.
Opening her eyes as the magics Glenda wields pull her consciousness, but there is no voice taunting her for her failures. Blinking back tears as the memory of Regnir's surprised scream resurfaces. He is already dead so he cannot die again. But where is he?.. Stupid child.. I was letting you.. recover
Sittting up and mumbling, "What is wrong with you?" You almost died and I was gravely injured you idiot.
And tell the slave that deafening him means he cannot hear your questions.
Flinching before speaking up, "Iverna deafening him would not help us and I doubt if we took his hands off he would be very co-operative. Perhaps we could bind his hands to restrict his casting abilities."
Looking over at Glenda, "If I let Regnir back out of my mind could you do that again?" You can heal your self so you can heal me you dolt. But she is much better at it."
Dasur shrugs at Iverna's suggestions. "Maiming him is certainly an option, though torture and disfigurement should be a last resort."
On seeing Nalnera stir, the wizard walks over and awkwardly presents her Dammerhall axe blade-first. Black orcish blood still wets the edge, and has splattered down the haft. "I apologize for takin your axe without asking, but you were unconcious. My staff was not sufficient to decapitate them, unfortunately. This is a fine axe- remember these are the crafts we hope to restore to dwarfkind one day."
He hands the axe back and leans on his staff. "Is your phantom destroyed? It was instantly vaporized by that drow's spell. That could have been one of us, and we owe the spirit a great deal for its sacrifice."
Snorri doesn't even try to follow Dasur's ramblings, perusing the drow's belongings. "Right. Let's keep torture to a minimum for now, hogtie him and keep an axe at the ready. Hopefully, he'll be reasonable with a blade at his neck."
Glenda says with some discomfort, "I have exhausted my ability to call upon such power. Perhaps with some rest. Though your request is odd - my understanding has been that such power is anathema to the undead. I am... curious about the difference."
To Snorri she adds, "Given the opportunity to recuperate, I can prepare a spell that, if it works, will force him to speak truthfully."
Taking the axe back quickly, "I was not using it Dasur so it is fine." First thing he has said that I like. Bitting back a grin, "He is still in my mind but that encounter left him weak." Rotten child! Closing her eyes for a moment. You wanna be healed don't you?.. That is what I thought.
Turning to Glenda, "He says he needs healing so that is why I asked. I can heal him a little but nothing like what you just did."
Taking a minuet to call Regnir out of her head. T dark yellow tinted transparent ghost looking dwarf appears standing next to Nalnera.
Taking the axe back quickly, "I was not using it Dasur so it is fine." First thing he has said that I like. Biting back a grin, "He is still in my mind but that encounter left him weak." Rotten child! Closing her eyes for a moment. You wanna be healed don't you?.. That is what I thought.
Turning to Glenda, "He says he needs healing so that is why I asked. I can heal him a little but nothing like what you just did."
Taking a minuet to call Regnir out of her head. A dark yellow tinted transparent ghost looking dwarf appears standing next to Nalnera.
Form flickering and glaring at Nalnera. With a much deeper voice than Regnir spoke with before, "Just like when you almost died. Channel that."
Shooting Regnir a glare of her own and then concentrating on pulling magic from her mind.
Sighing contentedly and his yellow coloring lightens. Looking over a Glenda, "I am not some meager undead. I chose to remain."
Dasur resists the urge to poke the phantom with his staff again. It seems less substantial. What is maintaining its physical form? Nalnera? Hmmm..
The wizard bows his head slightly to Regnir. "Allow me to thank you on behalf of the group. By drawing the Drow's ire you spared the living from complete annilihation."
Dagmar sits up with a small grown then hides her shock of finding herself completely whole.
Och, what ya doin' ye barmy broad? Trying to get yourself killed in the first real combat? Dagmar snaps at herself in her own head, Shut Up!, before looking around to see everyone else still alive (dead orcs don't count as everyone) and let's out an audible relived breath.
Dagmar makes herself busy by helping sort the orcs belongings, trying to avoid talking to anyone still feeling like an old fool, but listening in on the conversations about the draw and Nalnera's...friend.
Iverna snoops around the officers cave, not turning up much. "Now that everyone is in one piece, we should decide what we are doing next. Do we continue on to the west? We shouldn't stay here to too long. The blood and bodies will attract predators and scavengers, and we wouldn't want to be here if a group of Drow or Orcs happen by. We should get whatever we can use and get going."
Dasur hops on the back of the wagon, which has been loaded up with orcish swords, armor, and crossbows. "West was the original plan. After such a fierce battle with the elements of Air conspiring against us I do not wish to tempt Water."
He cracks open the drow's spellbook and starts to study it.
Vibrant red begins to swirl in Reginr's coloring. Offering Darur a nod, "You are welcome and do not forget it."
Shooting Regnir a glare, "I can put you in my head or you can be nice"
Looking around and letting her eyes settle on Snorri, "Are we taking a short rest here then? Or moving on and resting later?"
Dagmar picks up one of the armors, "With a good old fashion scrubbin and a few small alterations I think these will fit us. Any one mind if I take one?" She points to the large cut in her leather, "Be needin something sturdier than leather if we run into more orcs."
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"Let's look for a safe place to rest. Some of us can take a nap on the wagon, perhaps. Once we find a defensible position, we can make camp and ask our dark-skinned friend here some pointy questions."
Snorri unceremoniously dumps the hogtied and gaggled drow on the wagon.
"Take all you need, Dagmar. We'll have to make use of what we find, until we take back the ancient forges. It'll go a bit long, perhaps."
Iverna leads you on, marching you hard. The tiny woman is clearly tired, and sprayed with black orcish blood. Your dwarven constitutions barely balk at the ten hour march that she puts you through, but by the end she is clearly about to drop. She manages to find a side passage large enough to mostly hide the cart.
"I'll scout ahead and make sure we are in the clear. Don't want any nasty orcs sneaking up on us..."
She turns away and stumbles before moving on into the passage.
Glenda isn't even peaked after the ten-hour hike so she is quick to stop Iverna. "You need to catch your breath. Who's up for a little scouting?"
Dasur is exhausted after the forced march, immediately settling down on the nearest flat rock. "No.. no scouting... There is much work ahead of me." The wizard mumbles, drawing the Drow's spellbook and assorted scrolls from his pack.
A simple cantrip follows that allows him to read magical writings, and the flowing draconic in the drow's spellbook becomes as easy to read as Dwarven script.
He spends the next three hours unmoving from his rock, neither helping with camp, engaging in conversation, or seeming to pay attention to anything else at all. His quill (ironically utilizing the drow diplomats's special ink) dances across the thick parchment of his traveler's spellbook in intricate patterns.
Afterwrds he sits relatively motionless, staring at some of the other scrolls and spells in the book, seemingly intent on going without food, water, or sleep. The advanced arcane machinations of the remaining spells were beyond him, but not for long...
A short scouting mission ahead finds nothing but a few cave crickets the size of your fist and a well worn path that you have been following.
"Looks all clear for now," says Glenda as she returns. "Here, let me help." She bustles about aiding in the setup of the campsite and in checking in to make sure that nobody's still wounded.
Snorri sits on the ground, wiping sweat off his brow. He watches over his companions, considering for a while the heavy responsibilities that have been thrust on him. "I say we make camp here, I'll take first watch. Glenda, if you may ready that truth spell you told me about, I'd be obliged. We'll see what we can grab out of this foppish drow."