Grit strikes again at the brute he is facing, hoping that his ally has the creature distracted and taking advantage of the flank.
Raun's attempts to intimidate the bearded man are unsuccessful. Her club proves more effective, however, as she connects with a blow that forces him to his knees. He quickly staggers to his feet, however, narrowly avoiding her backswing.
The gash across Zok's chest narrows as Nnn'tkklik'l uses the Way the way to heal the halfling.
Grit, meanwhile, finally manages to bring down the tarek, crushing the stubborn humanoid's thick skull with a two-handed blow from his ensorcelled quarterstaff.
The templar is at the base of the stairs in front of Zok. The bearded captain is on the stairs, babbling. The tarek is (finally) dead.
Zok: At the base of the stairs between the cages at A and B, waving his knife
Gorkhan: Just to the west of Zok.
Safia: In the eastern cage.
Raun: In the eastern cage, in position to attack the stairs - due to her size, I'm going to rule that bars of the cage grant partial cover (+2 AC) to Raun and her opponents.
Grit: In the NW corner of the cargo hold.
Nnn'tkklik'l: In the SW part of the cargo hold, out of reach of the tarek.[/ooc]
The halflings wounds close up noticably on the halfling as he maneuvers between the cages. He hasn't been able to cut the agile templar in front of him yet, but he still had some stamina left, however he had begun to question his ability and it was manifesting in his swing. Perhaps it was his dehydration or this accursed weapon...
Gorkhan turns his attentions on the templar and swings with his tembo sword.
Unhappy with her previous result Safia simply tried again. The spirits kept urging her to deliver the templar to them and she'd do her best to comply, if only to silence them for a while.
Hamanu must be smiling on the yellow-robed templar, as the half-elf effortlessly evades the blades of Gorkhan and Zok. Striking from behind, Safia's spear appears as if it will strike true before again being turned away by the golden flash of the sorcerer-king's protection.
Emboldened, the templar hacks at Zok as he slides around the corner of the eastern cage .
The two-handed blow catches the halfling in the side of the head with an audible crunch, spraying blood and bits of hair over Gorkhan. His face covered by a mask of blood and torn flesh, the halfling sways on his feet, on the brink of collapse.
Battered by repeated blows from Raun's club, the bearded man again adopts a guarded stance before slashing at the half-giant through the bars of the cage.
The blow opens a long gash across Raun's abdomen, briefly exposing glistening muscles before filling with a swift flood of blood.
The templar is one space east of Zok. The bearded captain is on the stairs. The tarek is (finally) dead.
Zok: At the base of the stairs between the cages at A and B, waving his knife
Gorkhan: Just to the west of Zok.
Safia: In the eastern cage.
Raun: In the eastern cage, in position to attack the stairs - due to her size, I'm going to rule that bars of the cage grant partial cover (+2 AC) to Raun and her opponents.
Grit: In the NW corner of the cargo hold.
Nnn'tkklik'l: In the SW part of the cargo hold, out of reach of the tarek.[/ooc]
Grit uses his move to swing around to the south of the templar and come up on him from that direction. Rueing that he has spent his healing spell for the day and is unable to help Zok with healing magic, he He tried to help him be bringing down the enemy.
spending 2 more points to heal the halfling 6hp
Zok's head wound stops bleeding and the halfling seems steadier as Nnn'tkklik'l channels psionic energy into the collective.
Dashing around crates of goods, Grit almost shatters his quarterstaff against the mekillot-bone cage as he levels a roundhouse blow at the templar, who dodges out of the way.
The templar is one space east of Zok. The bearded captain is on the stairs. The tarek is (finally) dead.
Zok: At the base of the stairs between the cages at A and B, waving his knife
Gorkhan: Just to the west of Zok.
Safia: In the eastern cage.
Raun: In the eastern cage, in position to attack the stairs - due to her size, I'm going to rule that bars of the cage grant partial cover (+2 AC) to Raun and her opponents.
Grit: Due south of the templar.
Nnn'tkklik'l: In the SW part of the cargo hold, out of reach of the tarek.[/ooc]
Seeing stars and wondering what sort of divine power this being held before him, Zok shakes his head and fights through the wounds. He takes a stab at the Templar's belly, at least the one on the right. Unfortunately, that one wasn't correct and he misses wide.
The bearded man's attack actually draws a grunt of pain from the raging half-giant. She begins to regret the annoying shield hanging from her arm, feeling the urge to wrap her fingers around the bastard's neck, but perseveres, swinging her club at his stomach.
Gorkhan steps over the body of the Tarek and moves into the cage to attack the captain.
Just as the slavers appear poised for victory, the tide of battle shifts.
Grunting in pain, Raun strikes the bearded man with a backhand blow that shatters his sternum and forces a spray of blood from his mouth as he falls back against the western cage, eyes glazing in death.
The templar flails wildly at Gorkhan, but the faster man ducks beneath the blow. Rising up behind the yellow-robed templar, Gorkhan delivers a two-handed blow that hacks through the Urikite's inix-scale armor and severs his spine.
As your enemies' draw their final breaths, you hear the sound of someone pounding on the south cargo doors as others climb the sides of the wagon.
If anyone takes the time to search the bodies:
His weapons - a masterwork scimitar fashioned from the scythe-like foreclaw of a dune reaper (no penalty to hit, 1d6) and a masterwork bone kukri carved from a klar's claw (no penalty to hit; 1d4) - lay on the stairs nearby.
Having not yet acted this round, Grit will quickly grab up the templar's tembo sword, belt pouch and medallion. Loot them quickly and then lets gather more food. he says as he loots. Do we try to talk to the elves or do we fight. No one runs from elves.
Raun eyes the Tarek's armor consideringly; she wondered about his hygiene, but it was better than nothing, she could give it a thorough rub down with sand, or something else abrasive. It was worth a try anyway. The half-giant swiftly strips it from him before grabbing a swathe of silk to keep her guts in, tying it around her middle. Finally she grabs a replacement morningstar, abandoning the previous one and pulls her sled over to the pounding on the cargo doors. She finds that she ends up leaning rather heavily against the door while she catches her breath.
"Hey elves!" She bellows to get their attention, allowing a moment for the pounding to stop. "We are slaves that beard man was keeping. Thanks for distraction, we escaped and killed them all. You let us go with we have, and you keep the rest; lots of water, silks, fancy nuts, sugar and plenty weapons left for you. Otherwise we have to fight you too, and more people die."
You should listen to the half giant. We are now armed and armored and make much better allies than enemies!
A voice from outside the cargo door responds: "So, the half-breed spoke true. If you've dispatched the slavers then you've certainly earned your freedom. Open the door so we can continue our negotiation face-to-face."
Raun is silent for a few moments, considering, still breathing hard. She had heard of elves, if only in stories, and she seems to remember Tachyk meeting one of the 'half-breeds' once, they had a reputation for deceit, but they also had a reputation for lazyness, and it wasn't like the six of them were taking an excessive amount of supplies.
Unless something in the speaker's tone, or one of the others stops her, Raun gives a grunt of agreement, and sets about opening the doors for the elves.
Putting up a hand to delay the half giant Grit motions for the others to finish looting the bodies of their enemies. These spoils are ours, fought for and earned.. he says quietly. We should have possession of them before elves come among us. Then more loudly he calls What half breed do you refer to? he says out of both a desire to know and to buy them a little more time.
If time allows Grit will hand the sword to someone who wants it and grab the bearded man's scimitar, something he is proficient with.
Amidst the negotiations, Zok gathers what spoils he can, taking particular note of the bone Kukri. Hopefully, with a little modification it could serve him well. He still felt a bit woozy from his blow to the head, but he could manage to scavenge what he could before they left.
Safia quickly moves from the cage as their attackers perished and moves for the dead templar. Without much further ado she drops to her knees and cuts the man's jugular, drinking his blood from the vein, after which spits all of it over her hands while softly chanting in some strange language. Once she's done she sighs, "The spirits have been appeased."
Once she's done she grabs the amulet the templar wore and pockets it before moving back to the watering room to clean both her hands and face. After that she gathers what she dropped, ignoring the Elves for now.
The voice outside the door speaks again: The half-breed was a ragged half-human who came to us at our camp outside Urik," the elf says - the disdain in his voice makes it clear he must be talking about a half-elf. "He said a House Stel caravan had recently left the city, loaded with plunder. He asked only that the slaves be spared, especially a mul and a thri-kreen. A friend of yours, I assume?"
Gorkhan sizes up the bearded man's clothing, putting his own foot up against the corpse's boot and then begins removing them and clothing himself. He then grabs the hand fork from the tarek's cold dead hands.
Raun grabs the rest of the roll of silk she'd been using for various bindings, considering--as she looks at the others--clothing for the first time. A loose silk wrapping should actually be fairly affective at keeping her cool from what she could remember... After that she returns and finishes opening the door, allowing some more civilized discussion. She peers out of the door to get a feel for the conditions outside, and then hunkers down.
"Not friend of Raun's. Kjarros not ragged." she observes. to herself. "Have Elves been following caravan for long time then?" she asks, idly curious.
She seems slightly distracted from the conversation at hand however as it starts to occur to her that's she's made a lot of preparations to survive the harsh wastes of Athas, but doesn't actually know where to go. "We still going to Kled?" she asks, looking to the other escaped slaves; that had been the caravan's destination after all. "What else near here? Any place want to employ Half-Giant bodyguard?" she asks, looking to the elves now.
"The dwarves might have use for you, I suppose," says the first elf into the cargo hold, a tall, muscular man whose tattooed chest is bare beneath a dun-colored burnoose. "Even with those legs of yours you'd have trouble keeping up with us, I'm afraid, and I don't think you'd like the sort of work you'd find by heading back to Urik."
A half dozen elves slide into the cargo hold as the tattooed elf speaks. Eyes adjusting quickly to the comparative gloom of the cargo hold, he motions them into the hall and up the stairs with silent hand gestures.
"We've been following you for four days," the elf continues. "Your captain's decision to abandon the trade road and head across the wastes to Kled slowed your progress considerably. You might be able to make it to the dwarven village in three days, if your water holds out ..."
He pointedly eyes the water and other supplies you have gathered. "I see you have collected some of our goods - do you wish to barter before you leave or were you simply helping us unload?"
Grit looks up from lacing sandals onto his feet. You speak of D'Vreck. I am the Mul and this is Nnn'tkklik'l, the Kreen. We have only what we claim from battle, spoils of our kills, and we leave more that we take. He stands and gestures to the considerable loot and then leans on his enchanted staff. We freed ourselves, killed many of your enemies. and let you in. Do you now plan to fight us for what is ours by right of battle?
"You killed these men, giving you claim to their personal possessions. But the Swiftwing tribe captured the caravan, giving us claim to these goods," the elf says, a sly smile spreading across his face.
"As I said, perhaps we can trade. Templars and merchants usually carry coins - sometimes coins of silver or even gold, in my experience. You can't eat or drink silver in the desert. Happily for you, the Swiftwing has more than enough food and water, but a great need for silver. Always a need for silver."
"Raun told you we take what we need you have the rest. Do we need to kill each other now?" Raun starts, pushing herself up to her full height and glaring down at the elf, gripping her morningstar in a white knuckled grip. As Grit makes her point more eloquently and the Elf responds she relaxes somewhat. "Hmph... everyone always so worried about little round bits." she mutters, losing interest in the negotiations almost immediately. As long as noone tries to take anything off of her sled she is happy to talk with any of the other elves and try and rustle up any information about the surrounding area, and the region they are likely to pass through on the way to meet the dwarves.
Hmm. Perhaps we could use some of "our" silver coins to buy some water skins from you then, since you have plenty...
Dozens of elves begin filing in and out of the cargo hold removing goods that appear to be the most valuable and easy to transport. Others move upstairs, where the screams of the remaining guards and crew are quickly cut short.
"As it happens, we have three waterskins available for sale, as well as this fine cask of water here," the tattooed elf responds, pointing to the barrel on Raun's sled and the waterskins Nnn'tkklik'l and Grit are carrying. "We also have several sacks of food, which your friends there are carrying, as well as some admittedly blood-stained silk. Now, let's talk silver."
"Nnn'tkklik'l thinks we give them the silver coins. They want silver, we don't need silver."
With that, he will inspect his clutch for wound severity as the negotiations are taking place. He will heal Raun 6 hp. Are any others under half hp?
"Where is the half breed D'Vreck?" Nnn'tkklik'l asks of the elves.
"The half-breed? I don't know. Urik, most likely. He was in no shape to follow us on our run and looked to be in need of a healer," the elf says.
Nnn'tkklik'l will heal him for 6 as well.
Gorkhan continues to don the pieces of clothing he had scavenged, ignoring the Elves. Once finished he turns to them, his head cocked to the side, "So, as you say, we fought and won our freedom and gained the possessions, such as the weapons we carry, of these fellows," he says nudging the nearby near naked body with his foot. "How much are you talking for us to keep the food and water? We have no need of the silk and trade goods, but it should be noted that we did, after all, save you some time gathering it all together."
"In Silver Spring they would charge you two silver pieces a gallon," the elf says. "We are not barbarians who would charge such outrageous sums, especially from friends."
"How about a silver piece for each of the waterskins, 10 for the cask and one for each sack of food?"
Nnn'tkklik'l doesn't make any effort to complain about it.
This bag was busted and I fixed it. It should not count. The mul explains, showing the split seam that has been mended. And we did kill 5 or 6 of your enemy for you. That saved you some lives I bet. And we let you in. Don't forget that.
"The elves near my home village charge half what you are asking. A more reasonable price is somewhere around there. Perhaps we should get on our way before they talk us out of all of their spoils."
Zok also goes over to the Kreen and pat's him on one of his arms. "You either helped me out or kept me from doing my best. I'm not sure yet. I'll keep my eye on you."
"Our gruff friend is correct, he did repair the waterskin. Without him it would just a torn piece of leather, so we should be charged for that." She moved the bolt of bloodied silk, which she had been carrying in both hands, to one. "In addition to that we indeed killed them, saving you people a lot of trouble. And last but not least, we made sure you did not have to burn them out. That would have caused both fire and smoke damage to the good, which would have significantly reduced their value. We earned you money."
She then holds up the bolt, "As for this bolt, it is as much yours as it is ours. It is drenched in the templars blood, which is part of our spoils. Besides that, the stains won't come out, making it unsellable unless you ask less for it than for a piece of cotton not even a quarter of it's weight." She had to have this bolt. The other ones she could part with, but this one was claimed by the Grey as well as by her.
An elf strides by with an armful of plunder just as Grit begins to move toward the tattooed elf to argue the price. The mul and the passing elf crash into each other and go down in a tangle of limbs. Grit takes a blow to the face in the process. While the wound is mostly superficial - a split lip and cut above one eye - it covers his face in a mask of blood and makes his speech difficult to understand.
Zok and Safia prove more persuasive.
"Eight silver it is then," the elf says, spitting in his palm and offering to shake to seal the deal. Zok counts out the small silver coins and the elves move aside to allow your group to descend to the searing sand outside the wagon.
Outside, the crimson sun is just past its zenith. Low sand dunes surround the argosy, which the elves are systematically stripping of valuables. To the southwest, the dunes give way to a stretch of rocky barrens obscured by a haze of heat. Somewhere beyond the horizon lies the dwarven village of Kled and the nearby oasis overseen by the thri-kreen druid Durwadala.