Blix nods. "I'll pass the word. If it's a green hag we'll have to be especially careful--they can change their appearance."
Haftor expresses his contempt for such creatures with a grunt.
"Is there anything more about the fort, or anything else I suppose, before we head out?"
With the items sold, the party receives all the expected gold (in the form of platinum pieces), plus another 600 platinum pieces. "That's for equipping our lieutenant."
Two of you lead the other three back to the boat, where the captain is quite surprised twice over--the first time when you want to continue, and the second time when three of you recover your sight.
As if to make up for the excitement of the trip so far, the next several days are largely uneventful. Occasionally bands of orcs come up to river's edge in a threatening manner, but Captain Bloodtusk always has the right tribal token to hand for peaceful passage. (Once, the leader of the band waved the boat to shore, and in the ensuing discussion gold and goods changed hands.) It's clear, though, that essaying the trip over land without peace signals would have been somewhere between extremely difficult and impossible. Kronug figures that the locations, sizes, and identities of the orc bands is valuable intelligence for Lastwall, and takes copious notes.
Finally, the boat reaches a small tributary off the Esk River, and the captain orders the vessel anchored. "Here you are. We can't get any closer--that channel isn't navigable this time of year. Redlake Fort is ten miles that way." He points west. "We'll wait here for seven days. Good luck. May the gods protect you!"
The party returns to dry land, the final leg of their long journey before them.
Seamus puts to work in the hold of the ship, replenishing his personal elixirs and then concocting some wretched-smelling creation in the hold.
He seems frustrated by his progress, but doesn't let that deter him as he packs his things and gets them stowed before joining his companions on the deck, where the stink exudes off him in the open air.
Jarrek jumps down into the mud with a splash and an enthusiastic grin on his face. "Just 10 more miles to go before we're done! Almost there, folks!"
Kronug is fine if somewhat reserved with the half-orcs and orc on the boat.
They are more organized and peaceful with each other than I would have thought. It's as if they are becoming more civilized.
I'm not sure if that should be troubling or reassuring for Lastwall.
He disembarks. "Ten miles? So one day or two, depending on the terrain, I would guess."
Trianne had shared with Kronug that as part of the cost of passage to Redlake Fort, they were expected to serve on the ship in various capacities. Once the ruse of blindness was completed, Trianne helped where she was able, but she also eked out time wherever she could manage to work at some sort of intricate jewelry. She appeared to be integrating it into the chain which fastened her spellbook to her and would respond if spoken to, but otherwise she remained fairly engrossed.
The call for landfall brings a resigned smile to Trianne. She has enjoyed the time to tinker and has been reading voraciously as well, but being on solid ground suits her more. She stretches and gatherings her belongings.
“Thank you for getting us here, captain,” she says before making her way off the ship. As Jarrek suggests a marching order, Trianne raises a finger.
“No offense,” she nods at Seamus, coughing and waving the air as she steps away from the gnome. “But I prefer to be upwind of Seamus.”
You didn'a seem to object when I was pelting those invisible things with em! Seamus huffs indignantly, acting out his mock indignation. I do think I'm ready for this, ten miles, we'll be there in a jiffy I think? He sets his pack on his back and begins wandering on point in the vague direction they are headed, Just tell me where to turn? Svarog was always good at directions...
Haftor was in an introspective mood, spending hours a day in thought and prayer. He kept to himself, below decks, and did a great deal of rowing. When off duty, he went over his gear, cleaning and polishing his armor, and oiling his crossbow. He seemed to be working through a particularly thorny issue in his mind, but he didn't speak of it until they were off the boat and on dry land. He loaded his crossbow, hiked his rucksack into a comfortable position on his back, and finally spoke on the issue that had been troubling him.
"When Svarog decided to leave our group to protect his family, I wondered whether he was making a worthy decision. I went back and forth in me mind, and asked the All Father for guidance on the matter. I've decided that it's not my place to judge him, which was a tough call to make, since judging people is part of me job description."
He adjusted his war-belt and generated a satisfied grunt that indicated he was ready to march. "But now I ask meself, why are we here, and what's important about what we're doing. I haven't worked that part through yet, but I'll say this: someone needs to survive this fight, and get back to Trunau, and honor our efforts by warning the good people of what's happening out here. If things go south, whoever is standing needs to get back to the boat. No last stands and heroic sacrifices. Right?"
Jarrek laughs and claps Haftor on the shoulder. "They should be worrying about who's going to make a last stand, Haftor! We've already fought through one army of orcs, we beat Skreed, we killed a hydra- what are we gonna see here that's worse than that? A couple of ogres? A few of the dumbest, shortest, ugliest giants? We've got this!" The enormous half-orc gestured at the rest of the group. "We're all going back to Trunau and we're gonna have the biggest, drunkest, loudest party that town has ever thrown!"
Trianne’s tight smile at Jarrek’s proclamation is overshadowed by her own concerns. For there are many.
“Ideally yes, Jarrek, but concern is warranted,” she says as they continue to move away from the ship. “The Twisted Hearts likely know we are coming and—” She pauses, realizing there is a great deal that Kronug does not know.
“A raid on Trunau was conducted to obtain two items. That hammer,” she says to Kronug, pointing to Haftor’s weapon, and then she waves ‘please get out the stone I gave you’ fingers to Seamus. “And that stone. It is half of a map to the tomb of the Giantslayer. Grenseldek, the chief of the Twisted Hearts, wishes those items, and she must not be allowed to get them or it would greatly strengthen their position.”
“We intercepted a message describing her plot and indicating she has the other half of the stone at their base of operations, Redlake,” Trianne continues. “Our primary objective is retrieval of that stone from her. However, they likely know we’re coming and with the fort nestled between two branches of the river, I imagine the area will be lousy with patrols.”
“The sooner they spot us, the harder it gets,” she says. “But Dame Blix was able to provide us with a rough map of a sewer access way beneath the fort. That is our destination, as a frontal assault would be madness. So the general idea is infiltrate, quickly retrieve the other stone, sow as much mayhem as possible, and…well, run like hell. Because if this is there main fortification, I don’t see us lasting long in a toe-to-toe.”
“Questions?” she asks. “Did I miss anything?”
Stumping along, Haftor laughs out loud when he makes a realization. [b]"Well, we're bringing yon stone half to the she-giant, if she can take it from us. Convenient for her, if we don't kill her."
Kronug nods at Trianne's explanation.
"We can try to keep to cover."
"That sewer entrance sounds like a good idea. But I think Haftor is right - we'll need to not only get the stone, but kill this chieftain. If we leave her alive, we could be tracked back to Lastwall. I don't have the skill to cover our tracks."
"Now, when your enemy is behind fortifications, you want to lure them out. Taking the stone and running could do that. Lure them out into a trap of some kind. See if we can use the terrain to our advantage."
Kronug might be a follower of Gorum, but that does not mean he forsakes all consideration of tactics. War has many facets.
Seamus tries to help someone with figuring out how to cover their tracks, but the gnome quickly gets distracted by looking for animal tracks, Is that a rabbit? I'd be interested in some rabbit stew today! It makes sense not to march straight away there, and when we can get closer, I could try and scout by disappearing!
“I wouldn’t have trusted leaving the stone with anyone else,” Trianne says. “And we can always smash it if it comes to that.”
She tucks herself a little deeper into her cloak and looks back the way they had come, then back in the direction of the fort.
“I expect will see Skreed’s other half with her longbow somewhere between here and Redlake as well,” she adds, her tone clearly indicating she did not look forward to the reunion. “Killing the chieftain and her would suit me very well.”
She chirp whistles for Soot and instructs the raven to keep an eye out in front of them for anything unusual.
Kronug tries to use his knowledge of the wild to identify a path where the party will be less likely to be spotted.
The clumps of scrub forest dotting the foothills don't offer much cover, but under the wily Kellid's guidance the party manages to stay moderately concealed. With another five miles or so to go, Kronug spots fresh tracks--human-sized booted footprints, accompanied by a barefooted humanoid whose feet are about twice human length. He thinks they're no more than an hour old.
A giant you reckon? Seamus asks, slightly less pungent now that he's been out in the air for a day or so, And maybe our orcish friend? We should be careful, Now that we're within a few hours of the fort.
There are several sets of booted footprints; somewhere between two and six, as far as Kronug can tell.
Jarrek frowns down at the tracks, trying to identify what had left them.
"Tracking them while trying to remain hidden would mean we would move quite slowly. If they stopped to rest we might catch them, but if they were on the move they would get further ahead of us."
"So I suggest we wait here to ambush a patrol - either this one if they are doing a loop, or the next one. Thinning out their numbers is to our advantage."
The barefooted tracks are consistent with those of a hill giant, and the booted prints could be human, orc, or hobgoblin. Given the location, orc or half-orc is the safest bet.
Haftor takes in Jarrek's information and Kronug's suggestion and grunts in agreement. "No reason to rush to the fort. Let's find a spot to hunker down and see if some of the baddies come to us."
Haftor has no skill at finding a good ambush site, so he'll defer to Kronug on the matter.
Trianne sighs, blowing a strand of red hair out of her face in the process. She looks behind them, eyeing the tracks that they have left behind. She turns her head and looks forward, seeing no better path forward there either.
“Agreed,” she says. “Thinning a patrol outweighs a patrol being identified as missing this far out from Redlake.” The thought of trying to prevent runners crosses her mind, but the Twisted Hearts likely know they are here already. So that prevention seems unwarranted.
"Where's a good spot?"
Jarrek nods. "Every dead giant out here means one less trying to stomp on us there. Let's do it."
Time passes. Kronug and Seamus listen carefully, and every now and then when neither of them hears anything they allow the party a break to stretch, eat a bit, and then resettle in ambush. Finally, they hear the sound of distant voices speaking in Orc and coming closer.
sounds like orcs? I have no idea what they are saying... and Seamus gets small, waiting for the right moment to launch the ambush...
Jarrek translates, speaking quietly. "These're some of the ones that got away from us. You burned one of 'em, Seamus. Finish the job this time, okay?" The big half-orc grins at the gnome.
From a distance, Seamus picks out the band. There's a giant lumbering amidst a ragged troop of orcs, including one that looks familiar--he was last seen on fire and diving into the river near the Ghostlight Marsh.
Seamus signals the others by tossing an acorn at Jarrek alerting them to the nearby presence of the patrol.
The small band of orcs and giant has just entered a clearer area where the party has open lanes of attack at the expense of concealment. Any moment now one of them might turn and see someone, but for now they seem blissfully unaware of the party.
Surprise Round:
Initiative order
Jarrek
(Tark)
(Orcs)
Seamus
Kronug
Trianne
Haftor
(Giant)
Kronug moves into position, Gorum's Thorn in hand.
Trianne watches and waits, having sent Soot to relative safety some distance away and biding her time to cast. As she sees the group move into position and prepare to launch their offensive, she releases the vibrating energy with a mad rush and accelerates everything they do.
Seamus draws a potion and downs it, a shimmering field of energy forming around himself, trying not to give his position away.
Jarrek murmurs yet another prayer to Iomedae under his breath, looking left and right at Haftor and Kronug to make sure they were all ready to go.
The party takes advantage of their opponents' distraction to move into position.
Round 1:
Initiative order
Jarrek
Tark
Orcs
Seamus
Kronug
Trianne
Haftor
Giant
Jarrek dashes out of cover, huge blade blazing with arcane energy, surrounded by magical duplicates and unnaturally fast as he beelines for the giant. He calls out in Orcish "Prepare to meet Gorum!"