Bolus' nostrils flare as he tries to tamp down the anger he feels at the victims of the orc tribe's brutality. Trying his best to ignore the wailing of the maimed children and the weeping of their parents he focuses on a solidly built and horribly scarred woman standing a little ways away. She's not mourning her fate but instead staring fixedly in the direction of the Orc camp. She has the manner and bearing of a tough caravan guard and Bolus recognizes the look in her eye as a deeply burning and righteous rage.
He walks up to her, side stepping a small family collapsed on the ground and clutching each other though to the others it seems like he moved around a patch of empty air, and greets her.
Hail.. you got the bearing of a guard. I'm here to blow the bastards over there to hell in tiny little pieces. 'parently I've failed at doing just that over and over. Could you help me succeed this time?
The ghost turns to face you and you can see that only one of her eyes is capable of staring any more, with or without any hatred in them. Burns she suffered, terrible burns from a fire that scorched her from above and blackened half of her face. The skin on her face is melted and her cheekbone is exposed.
The ghost approaches you until she's standing right in front of you, and makes a motion like breathing in. At the same time, you feel your breath being drawn out of your lungs as if by a cold breeze. You feel a shiver well up from inside you.
When the ghost speaks, she uses your breath...sounds like your voice, but different. "I care for nothing anymore but vengeance. If you mean to kill this tribe of orcs there is NOTHING I WILL NOT DO!!!!"
The rage of the ghost before you is blistering and surprising as a sudden firework going off inches from your eyes, forcing you to blink. Those of you watching Bolus can see tears form, unbidden, at the corners of his eyes, and freeze on his cheeks, from a cold that none of the rest of you feel.
The ghost had been clenching her fists in her fury, trembling, her hair whipping around herself in a fierce wind felt only by the dead. Slowly she unclenches them once more, and draws more of your breath to speak.
"Tell me your plan."
Bolus gestures to the stack of explosives that Olivius procured behind him and takes a deep breath to get some warm air back in his lungs.
We got heavy ordnance. We plan to sneak in to the center of the camp where there is a artifact beacon that they worship. We blow it up, confusing and demoralizing them and hopefully taking most of them out. Then we take care of the survivors. When things go to hell I got friends in the sky that I can hopefully convince to help eradicate these bastards.
Olivius rocks from your to heel while Bolus does his best crazy person impression.
Bolus, your enthusiasm and passion of spirit draws in the attuned ghosts around you as if you were at the lowest point of some ghostly bowl. They swirl around you in circles, watching you as you explain your plan. Unsettlingly, some of their faces overlap with your companions as they phase through them. The living shiver as if splashed with cold water when the ghosts pass through.
"You will be...the vessel of our revenge..." the ghosts murmur around you, in concert. The air is sucked out of your lungs and you feel icy cold all over...and the ghosts have disappeared.
If I had a holy symbol, I'd be holding it right about now... mutters olivius as a shiver creeps down his spine. What did you just do?
Across the valley, you hear a great roar, as if from an enormous crowd. Blue lightning crackles from the earth backwards into the sky. The flashing lightning lasts only a few minutes, but it seems to have incited the crowd into a cheering frenzy; the roar is continuous.
"The hells was THAT?" Cortes' voice can be heard on the communicator.
Dambreth stares at the flashing lightning. "The beacon at work? If so, time to change fate grows short. Ready or no, we must strike."
Agreed. Time to bring this party to a screeching halt.
Popping the needle out Bolus murmurs What the heck happened to me
To the communicator he says No idea Cortes, but we're going to get a move on. I'm leaving the comm here as we need to go in as silent as possible. Gimme one last update and then we're heading in.
Bolus, the air on your skin feels normal, but the air you breathe stings your lungs as if you're walking outside on a cold winter day. It's difficult to describe, but as you survey the orc's valley as it slopes down before you, you feel as if the colors have grown more muted. You don't look any different externally, but something's off. Communicating with ghosts doesn't feel like a healthy thing to do.
The intercom crackles in response. "You're leaving the comm? You must be insane...there's got to be over a thousand orcs in that valley!" you can hear a sigh from the other end of the comm. "We've had to keep our distance-"
Another voice breaks in on the comm line. "This is Hardworthy! How am I to know when I'm supposed to bring you this bomb of yours that's sitting in my cargo hold?"
Cortes, incredulous, asks who it is, and demands that he get off an official channel, and Hardworthy dismisses him with a tut. "Quiet, you! It's Bolus I'm speaking to!" the Professor continues over Cortes' grumbling.
"So do you want me to wait a certain length of time or just wing it when I see a signal, Bolus?"
Feeling a bit disjointed by how cold his breath feels and how bleached everything looks Bolus replies first to Cortes Yeah I hate it too. But not having a thousand orcs know where we are until it's too late is the priority.
To the Professor I got a Scout torch. Will flare it if as a signal to come in with the bomb. Won't flare it for any other reason. Cortes if you could provide air support while the Prof makes the delivery that would be great after I send the signal. It ain't high tech communication. But we're Guardians yeah? Not gear addicted Enforcers!
"I'll look for the flare. Signing off." the Professor's voice is terse.
"We've got a situation developing here..." Cortes' voice breaks in one more time. "There appear to be prisoners within the valley that are being hoisted by some kind of winch. I count at least 10 people in the cage. I don't know what's going to happen to them, but I can't imagine it'll be good. And one last warning...we see sleeping drakes in some of the guard houses. Be on your guard. Signing off. We'll try to keep an eye on your position from above and offer what support we can."
Your weapons and gear were taken from you. You were captured - through what means varies by person, but you're all in the same situation now. You look out over a swarming sea of brutish, eager faces, their orc mouths agape with their pointed tusks gleaming in the light of the torches all around.
You can feel the heat from the crowd rising up as you're raised higher and higher by the winch, until your cage is over 30 feet off the ground.
From your height, if you're looking around far off rather than directly below you, you can see a small group of people that don't look orcish...
Olivius double checks his gear, makes sure everyone has at least one grenade, and distributes the heavier loads like the RPGs to the stronger members of the group.
We're as ready as we're going to be. Let's make like shadows.
There are numerous ways to get into the valley, but the orcs have blasted and burned the landscape to the point where it's wide open and exposed in most areas. There are trees, you are technically in a forest, but it barely feels like one; most of the trees around are ashy and dead.
You've been approaching the valley from the mountain trail, which was from the west. Do you want to make straight for the cages, loop around to the left/north or loop around to the right/south? Each has different challenges but all you can see are the two guard towers before you. Going straight in would put you between the two towers; looping one of the two directions will only take you past one. The hills you're standing on slope south. What do you do?
Viola sits in the cage, lying on her back and lackadaisically looking up into the sky, rather than looking down below. Could be worse. Could be much worse. She looks to her side to eye the other prisoners. Maybe one of them managed to sneak something in that could get the cage open. If not... Well, there wasn't much she could do. Her hands idly beat out a rhythm on the cage, as she did her best not to become nervous over the goings-on. Getting nervous was an excellent way to make mistakes assured, rather than a possibility. It helped that she tended not to sweat the small stuff much at all. It helped even more that her 'small stuff' tended to be a significantly bigger deal to other people.
So, she sits and waits. Dull clothing of brown, and wild brown hair splayed out around her. Goggles over her eyes make it difficult to see who or what she's looking at.
Signing off Bolus says and with great reluctance takes out his earpiece and drops it to the ground.
Drakes and prisoners huh he says to the others in the group. We need distractions. The more the better. Freeing the prisoners in some way would be great. It'd also be the right thing to do. But how the hell do we get close? And then clear the area long enough for the Prof to make the delivery?
((Can we see anything about the north and south paths from where we are?))
Halwyr: The prisoners have to sit tight for now, unless you have a slick idea for an escape plan.
Bolus: The north path would involve walking a little further uphill, giving you a better view of the valley - but also increasing your risk of being spotted. The south path leads downhill and around, and has the reverse benefit and drawback. Apart from that, the paths look unattended currently - difficult to say what you might encounter going either direction.
"Agree about the distractions...we need to get the Orcs looking the wrong direction." Dambreth rubs his face trying to come up with a plan. "Our primary goal has to be to get someone close enough to set off explosives to destroy the beacon. A secondary goal is to free the prisoners. One idea is that someone stay back here and after the others get as close as they can to the camp, start throwing grenades and setting off explosives here. Get the orcs looking this way and the others sneak into the camp?" Dambreth shrugs, "It's probably not a very good plan but it's the best I can think of."
That plan increases the possibility of those drakes waking up significantly. Not a prospect I relish. I say we head up hill with an RPG at the ready. If we are spotted, then we blow the crane and bring the cage down. The impact will most likely shatter the cage and we will have our diversion.
In short, flying foes are a terrible thing to bring about, no matter the cost.
Using the RPG to shatter the prisoner cage gonna wake the drakes anway. Getting them to rampage through the orks would be a hell of a trick. No idea how to do that though. How about we go North, use the RPG to blow the winch and free the prisoners. Then we hustle to loop around south while the orcs run to the north hill to investigate?
My kingdom for a drake expert... If we're going to double back I recommend that not all of us go. Yala and I can easily pull that off and more easily avoid detection on the way back than all of us together. Youall clear the southern route and wait for us to return. Would you be willing to do that, Yala?
Don't want to split up too much. Hows about we stay here and then we head down south together when you guys run back. That way if things go real bad we can get to you guys. Now would be the time to do it though. Looks like the orcs won't be paying too much attention cause of whatever they're planning to do to the people in the cage.
Deal, that is, if Yala agrees. I may be a brave and noble, he says just a little too loudly, theif, but I'm not completely stupid. I'm not going out there alone.
Yala's eyes are narrowed, and her resolve shows clearly on her face. "Kept in cages, like animals? Only barbarians would do such a thing. Even were we not on a mission to stop them, I would want to do this." Yala nods, her determination plain to see. She draws a grenade and tosses it in the air, catching it again with a confident grin.
"I've got your back, sticky-fingers."
Across the field, in the middle of the orcish festival, bows are being passed around to various orcs in the crowd. There's an MC orc with a tall top hat and a monacle; he's shouting into a microphone words in Orcish.
"Harr harr hredara! Laktosh! Laktosh! Jarnahar rulk, laktosh breeno!" the MC cries into the microphone. Cheering is heard in response.
One of the prisoners in the cage with you is shot with an arrow in the chest. He screams in pain and shoves himself against the wall of the cage, knocking you all about inside the cage as his blood spills on the cheering crowd below you.
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Borak kneels rock-still in the prisoner cage. When one of his fellows is pierced by an arrow, he leaps upon the man, grabbing him from behind and still his thrashing until the man goes limp, and he rips the arrow out of his chest. Now among his assets he can count two things:
1) An arrow
2) A corpse.
Perfect.
"Viola," he grunts at one of the fellow prisoners. The first thing he did in this cage was ask everyone's name. People are quicker to follow orders if called by name. Makes it easier for the Plan.
The orcs may think that by taking him prisoner they have won. But no! All part of the plan....
"Viola," he says again. "Why are they shooting at us? And how many are shooting at us? I know you have much to learn about battle, but know this: There is no knowlege that is not power. If we can learn how many are shooting at us, that will be a bright spot in the sea of darkness we are in.
Just keep a calm head. Now all we need is a distraction...."
"Dunno. Don't speak orc. If I did, I might not be up here. If I had to guess, prolly cause they think it's fun." she shrugs, making no move to take up less space on the floor of the cage, despite the fact that that makes her a more obvious target.
"Damn them, they are shooting the prisoners. Olivius we will be ready for your return, but you must go quickly and destroy the winch."
Olivius spins and sees a man now laying where he should be cowering. The luxury of time was gone.
He motions to Yala and the two disappear into the night up the hill. They move quickly and quietly like twin shadows of a whisper.
Olivius had done this one before, kinda. The Duke D'Empenge had won a bet and relieved one Earl of the Silver Marches of a pricey heirloom. The two were on the verge of a proxy war when Olivius was contacted to retrieve the item in question.
The Duke's castle was surrounded by terrain such as this, and Olivius had navigated it almost without incident. Almost. Important lessons were learned that day, and Olivius employs every trick here. He steps on-beat with the music, moves from shadow to shadow with the flicker of the fire light, and keeps an eye out well ahead of him when possible.
Viola sways her head slightly in time with the beat, then begins to drum out a specific beat of her own on the cage beneath her, thump-thump clap, thump-thump-thump clap. People find themselves moving slightly in time with the beat, synchronizing actions slightly even as she keeps the mild counterpoint with the DJ down below.
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Lord Borak pauses to recall what he knows of orcish psycology.
He says, lowly, to the assembeled group, " During the Battle of Herodotus, the IronHand orcs were seiged at their fortress of Thucydides. They had lined the walls with the almost entirety of their numbers, so when a company of Elven StormReavers poured though a crack in the rearwall, they surged onto the elevated orcs and cast them down.
Later, High General Darius marched the whole of his army across the fallen bodies of the IronHand, later saying that "The orcs are sewn by the tread of my foot".
Ever since, in what's become known as the "Darius salute", it's become an insult to show your bare foot to an orc."
Or was it the Battle of Aeschylus? Bah, hard to be sure.
Lord Borak crouches low and slides the corpse forward until his bare feet are jutting out of the bars of the gate.
He hopes the corpse will draw some fire. And so The Plan goes forward....
Olivius, you and Yala make your way to the left path, taking the high ground. From the elevated position you're making your way to, you can see where several of the drakes are. You count four that you can see, and Yala grabs your elbow to point out a fifth. Your knees feel slightly weak when you see that many, recalling how much of a bother the solitary drakerider was in Terminus City's Central Park.
Your path leads you under a watchtower that doesn't appear to have a drake sleeping in it. You could try to execute your plan from atop the watchtower, which would give you a superior position, or you could fire from a high point on the hillside somewhere. You saw two orc guards moving about as you stealthily crept up on it - they haven't noticed you, but one of them is approaching a position where he could look down and see you. What do you do?
Meanwhile, Borak's gambit pays off! When the commanding hobgoblin shoves the corpse to one side of the cage, bare feet exposed, a roar of indignant rage redoubles in volume in the crowd. Although the aim of orcs is inconsistent at best, meaning you're still in grave danger, they mostly appear to be focused on peppering the corpse with arrows. It jerks and shakes from the multiple impacts of the arrowheads.
Meanwhile, Viola, as you're drumming, you notice that one of the bars forming the "floor" of the cage is not as strong as the others...
Bolus, Eldar, Sinathel; while Olivius and Yala are preparing their distraction, what do you do? Halwyr, what are you doing in the cage? As an elf, you're drawing nearly as much fire as the corpse that is "flipping them off."
Bolus will walk slowly towards the south track to see if he can find out what's happening down that way that might cause them problems when they head that way. He plans to go just far enough that he can see around the bend. He's being pretty cautious though any sign of being spotted and he'll stop and head back to the starting point.
Halwyr knows he won't be able to dodge the arrows, especially in a cage. He thusly decides to manifest a large, mobile shield of force in front of himself.
Time allowing, Halwyr strikes back at the archers with a gout of fiendish flame.
"Eat some of this, greenies!"
"Shoddy ancient dwarven architecture. You'd think it'd at least hold up a few centuries." Viola says, slightly exasperated, as she starts to wiggle the bar that's pulled at her attention. "Can't really expect orcs to take good care of it, though." Suddenly, her memory is jogged about ancient dwarven cages.
"You know, I once heard a dwarf talk about how dwarven cages were specifically made so that you couldn't hold dwarves in them. Like, there was a trick to getting them open, even if you didn't have the key, cause... you know, Dwarven ingenuity. If you can find the wiggly bar, you bop it, flick it, twist it... and then pull it... and you wind up with another door! Not that, yanno... you can trust every dwarf you meet in a bar." she says as she makes the motions, hopeful that it will work out as expected... and not just dump them all into the orcs. Or just not work at all. "Or maybe it was something else." she says as she pulls on the loose bar.
Dambreth reaches outwards with his spirit, calling for help...Oh Gaia, please favor our plan. Is there a spot on the hillside that could be made to fall onto the Orcs and Drakes below using our rocket grenades? Please grant your humble cleric a sign!
Bolus, you creep off south, not making any mention of bringing anyone else along with you. I'll say that Sinathel and Eldar follow you, but Dambreth seems interested in communing with Gaia, so he stayed behind a bit further.
As you stride off south, you feel a rage that does not belong to you welling up inside. The feelings are foreign - as a Guardian, you've always had a stronger handle on your emotions than...this. This is a rage of multiple dozens of slain ghosts, amplified by the time spent as an impotent spirit haunting this valley. You feel an intense desire to draw your weapon and charge screaming at the orcs that are less than 200 feet from you. You three approach a dead, blackened log that gives you cover from the nearest guard tower, which has Drake #3 that Olivius spotted resting atop it. This path, if you were to follow it down, would lead to the stage that the orc MC is shouting into a microphone from. You hear him bellowing in Orcish, spurring the crowd on - you can't understand the words but you can tell the tone. What do you do?
Dambreth: It sounds like you're using the Divine Guidance cleric move. What is a precept from your religion? Choose one from the list on that page that I linked and describe how you petition Gaia using it, and that'll inform how I answer your question.
Halwyr, I noticed that you are Spell Focused with the Abyss as a Mage, which affects your spellcasting in interesting ways. From your character sheet;
Opposed: creating new things, showing humility
So I could see this as being debatable, but I think that creating a shield of force would fall under "creating new things," which is Opposed to your Spell Focus, so I think that roll we can ignore. If you disagree and think you can spin it so that you can create some sort of Abyssal shield-horror, then by all means, let me know! That's how Mages work, they're cool like that.
There's a bright side, that you weren't aware of because it's a houserule - I made "crits" into a thing in Dungeon World, so on a 12+ you get an extra good effect, and if you roll snake eyes, well, the opposite. So you only have one drawback; let's say, just Unwanted Attention.
You blast the crowd below with unholy Abyssal fire, and it spreads throughout the crowd, lighting up orcs and leaving a connecting after-image that leads up to the cage. By the time the fire is stamped out, at least 10 orcs lie dead and blackened, clutching their faces even in death. A roar of renewed vigor comes up from the orcs - they love it when prisoners fight back, especially magic users, and ESPECIALLY ESPECIALLY ELVES! Ignoring the corpse that has exposed feet, which has already got a bunch of arrows in it anyway, the crowd turns to you, firing the next volley in your direction! This occurs just as Viola, putting her memory to excellent use, pops open the secret trapdoor bar of the cage!
A door made from cunning Dwarven hidden designs swings open in the floor of the cage! Fortunately, it doesn't take up the entire floor, so there's still room for you to cling to the cage itself without falling. The prisoner who already died falls through, and as the door opens, another arrow kills another prisoner who was sitting right next to Viola by skewering her through the neck. With a choked cry, she falls through the hole and into the crowd, where the orcs whoop in excitement.
Looking down through the door, you're hanging about 30 feet off the ground, over a sea of burned and excited orcs! What do you do?
Viola leaps before she looks!
With the door sliding open, and a near miss making things less than ideal for staying, Viola drops out of the cage and grabs hold of the swinging door, seeking to vault herself up to the side of the cage... from there, it's apparent that all she needs to do is climb the wire, then rappel down the pulley to lower the cage twenty feet or so. Not entirely an easy feat by any means, the obviously fit stranger doesn't pull it off with precisely perfect panache.
Halwyr looks through the hole in the cage, realizing that it might be safer outside - if he can get out alive. He is relatively swift in dodging arrows so far, but it won't last long. Halwyr jumps out of the cage, white energy coruscating in his clenched fists. As he falls, he attempts to summon a horrific flying demon-hawk thing to fly him to safety.
Halwyr's eyes dart about, searching for the other elf that opened and escaped the cage. While he is indifferent about most issues of morality, he cannot in good conscience leave her to the orcs. He guides his fiendish mount towards her and attempts to pick her up in its talons!
Olivius is just considering his next move when the prisoners start escaping! After a quick thought, he hefts the rocket launcher onto his shoulder and places the round up the butt of the sleeping drake. With any luck, the watch tower would go with it.
With his main purpose accomplished and then some, he urgently motions Yala back to the group. He takes a couple chances in getting back more quickly, trusting the diversions to make it back safely.
He dashes up to the group in the south and slides into the meagre hiding place.
Halwyr, noticing Viola's obvious aversion to his mount, veers off. Unable to resist a legalese jibe even in such a dire situation, he call over his shoulder, "Well whatever floats your boat but may I point out you're the one hanging over the orcs and I assure you that my fiendish powers and minion and lack of eyeballs give an inaccurate display of my character and that I do not use such means for inherently evil purpooooooses!" Halwyr speaks incredibly quickly and his last words are drowned in wind as the demon rockets away. He urges it to circle, however, in case Viola or any other prisoners decide to choose survival over "alleged morality," as his father would call it. "Anyone give me a shout if they want a lift! Better alive and fighting evil than dead and spiting good! Or do I need to magically lift you?! I assure you, this way is easier!"
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As Borak notices the trap door open, he contemplates the situation. Hmmm, finding a way to drop down was the 7th least-likely scenario. Not probable...but not unheard of.
Gathering as many arrows as he can grab from the arrow-riddled corpse, he calls out, "Halloooo there, elf mage! I shall not shirk from an air-borne hand! Come get me down!"