Kazador activated his runes. As he did so his legs began to fade, becoming insubstantial.
Algric though, joined Mel in firing an arrow.
”When I say go, have all them dwarves Charge. I’ll be with ‘em.” Kazador said, as he prepared himself to corner the mage.
“Got it.”
Muse delays his action to sync with Kazador.
Turion steps forward and prepares to cast a spell on the orc as soon as he approaches.
The orc shakes off the spell but then slips on the frozen grease. One of his comrades climbs out of the pit and stops on the ice, lacking room to advance further. Hidden behind his massive companions, the orc spellcaster conjures a sphere of fire over Turion but the elf dodges the flames. Fyrtor's ice grasps at the fallen orc, freezing him to death.
Fyrtor feels the numbing cold of his own spell sapping his strength. Attempting to clear the way for Kazador's charge, he moves forward dodging the orc's attack as best he can. Then he strikes at the orc hoping it is enough to down the beast. His blade bite deeply into the orc's flesh causing a grievous wound.
”Now!”
Kazador founded the corner and...saw how big the orcs were. Damn! He thought. No way he’d get to the mage like that. So he had to settle for slamming his hammer into the closest orc. Damned beasts had blocked the tunnel! He’d have to do this the hard way.
Algric, for his part, sent two arrows flying down the corridor into the closest standing orc.
Worried about the possibility of a flank, Mel moves back and looks down the darkened hallway behind the party, turning her head to check both directions.
With the sphere of fire suddenly appearing, Túrion took note of the enemy mage. It would not do to passively await what would be slung his way. Fetching a cobweb, he focuses on the corner of the corridor in which the enemy mage hit behind his meatshields.
With a single utterance, webbing spreads all over the place, grasping at orc nearby.
When Kazador flew around the corner, Muse directed his illusiory Rune Wardens to do the same right ahead of him, hopefully eating any attacks that would otherwise be directed at Kazador as he closes with the giant orc.
Kazador and Fyrtor finish off the massive orc then Algric sends two shafts into the spellcaster. Turion's spell entangles the spellcaster, who attempts to break free, as do the orcs trying to climb out of the pit but only one of the orcs escapes. He barely manages to escape the pit and the web but that is all he can manage. His gaze rises to certain doom before him in the shape of multiple rune wardens.
The orc, barely freed, faced the downward motion of Kazador’s hammer. The results were messy.
Algric gritted his teeth against the cold as he continued firing at the hated orcs. He was hurting all over now, and it impacted his aim.
Seeing no fresh combatants appearing in the tunnel behind them, Mel returns to the fray, moving beside Algric. She pauses for a moment, unsure as to which of the many Kazadors was real. Fortunately the enlarged orc towers over the dwarf, so after a moment she shrugs and sends the arrow well over all the Kazador-heads.
nonlethal
There was no use in wasting arcane power just for the sake of using it. They only just arrived here, and half his powers were already used. To great effect, certainly, but gone, still.
Instead, he directed Nelly to keep watch at the corner towards the tunnel behind them, and moved into a corner himself, catching his breath in the relative safety of the rough stone between him and the orcs.
Kelian stands uncertainly, not sure how to contribute. Kazador finishes off the massive orc, Mel and Nel verify that no enemies approach from behind. An orc in the pit and one in the web seem to be all that remain.
Fyrtor seeing the pit and web bar his way decides this would best be dealt with at range. He sheathes his sword and draws his bow.
Raising his gory hammer, Kazador muttered darkly ”Going to go in. Can’t let them live. I’ll be behind them right quick.”
Muse concentrates on his silent image as a standard action, causing the Rune Wardens to take up defensive stances, to all appearances readying their actions to attack.
The captain calls out to the giant orc in it's language.
The massive orc finally makes his way out of the pit, ripping web strands off of him as he climbs. The spellcaster manages to escape from the web and steps to the side. Then he hurls the flaming sphere at Algric, who is burned badly (12 damage).
”How am I supposed to kill yon mage if orcs keep walking face first into my hammer?!” Kazador exclaimed as he brought another orc down.
Gritting through the pain Algric kept firing. His arrows were accurate, but didn’t quite have the power to do noticeable damage.
After Kazador had finished demolishing yet another orc Fyrtor draws back his bow and lofts and arrow, hoping it will find its mark. Then he steps back behind the dwarf, clearing the space for the other archers arrows.
"Kelian, why don't you go keep an eye on that other corridor with Nelly?" Mel suggests. "I'd rather not have any surprise from behind."
As soon as Algric is done firing, Mel steps in front of him. "Pardon me, Algric," she says. "Just need a better angle."
Sighting down the corridor she clicks her heels and sends two arrows flying down the darkened hallway.
nonlethal, one lower if hitting caster
As Mel clicks her heels together, her feet slide unexpectedly in a pool of blood, sending both her shots clattering wildly down the corridor.
Kazador kills the orc who crawled from the pit and Mel, Fyrtor, and Algric fire over its dead body, all to the same effect. Their arrows are stopped by the webbing.
Túrion dismisses the web spell when he sees people nocking arrows aiming down the hallway, and Kazador triumphantly declaring the demise of his opponent.
Turion snaps his spell out of existence and the five arrows directed at the orc finish him off. He falls dead, struck through.
Most of the orcs have little of interest on them but the lieutenant and spellcaster appear well equipped.
Nice full plate armor
A shield with a metal lion's face protruding from it
A fine battleaxe
A well-wrought throwing axe (appraise)
A belt with giants stitched into it
Two white cloaks
2 potions of CLW
1 potion of CMW
1 potion of protection from arrows
scroll of comprehend languages
scroll of mage armor (2)
scroll of mount
wand of enlarge person (14 charges)
A nice falchion (appraise)
A ring
A book with strange scribblings in it (spellcraft)
437 gp
As the sounds of battle stop and the orcs are looked over, mostly to make sure they were really dead, Túrion followed his instinct, casting a spell letting him detect magical items with ease, then sitting down and taking a closer look at those.
Fyrtor recovers his arrow and puts it back into his quiver, then takes some time to pray on behalf of the souls of the fallen. "Goddess of mercy, may these find a way to come into your light. May your light and mercy shine down on us all." Fished with is prayer he turns to look at the gear the group has gathered from the fallen.
Mel checks her arrows, frowning. In the bottom of her quiver she finds several loose arrowheads that had evidently detached from the shafts.
"Tcha!" she says. "Look at this. Shoddy workmanship -- and all of them are arrows I took off that ship. I'll have to check all of them."
Sighing, she looks over the mass of dead orcs and shakes her head. "What a mess. I don't feel especially bad about it, after the things I heard them discussing -- they spoke gleefully of murder and pillage and rapine. This lot had it coming."
"But I wish we had one of them alive to question. Why were they guarding this spot? I don't see anything of particular value. Kazador, is it a choke point controlling access to the rest of the hold?"
The memories accumulated throughout the invaders lives drift about aimlessly. Wholesale slaughters and family dinners, as seen through the orcs' eyes, play out in front of the captain's. For now, right here, they outnumber event the fragmented psyches of Kazad Gavr's dead, but it won't be long before they've dispersed.
"What a mess," Mel says, unwittingly walking through a coming-of-age ceremony, dispersing the memory. Muse has to agree. What a mess. Everything's smeared together, the good and the bad and the hideous. And it'll get messier the deeper we go - this place is haunted.
"Things could certainly be worse," the captain says, rubbing his head on the wall to adjust his hat (his arms will be normal-length before long, and these things will get easier) "we all came through in one piece. Congrats and slaps on the back all around!"
"Well, it's a side tunnel with clear view on the main entrance tunnel...if a guard was to be posted, it would probably be here. Chances are infrastructure for that is down that tunnel and they made use of it.", Túrion muses on Melira's question.
Turion’s work results in
+1 full plate
A lion’s shield
A +1 vicious battleaxe
Unidentified belt
Cloak of resistance
Ring of protection
Spellbook containing: Charm person, detect undead, mage armor, magic missile, shield, flaming sphere, fox’s cunning, pyrotechnics, invisibility, touch of idiocy, clairaudience/clairvoyance, deep slumber, haste, hold person
Kazador, looking around, knows that this tunnel is not a particularly key defensive position but does serve as a convenient watchpoint for this main tunnel. There are stronger defensive points up ahead, some of which are warded by permanent magical runes. But here in these living quarters, he sees scattered heirlooms and possessions that, though of little value, remind him of the everyday lives of the dwarves who lived here.
After looking at the equipment they have gathered from the orcs Fyrtor steps back lost in thought. As the heat of battle subsides his mood turns gloomy. So much death, so much loss...
Hearing Mel's words calls him back to the present. "We did fare well this time, but we used a lot of our magic up. We will have to be careful. If we get into any more fights as tough as this one we might not be so lucky a second time."
"Captain, you said before that you were able to ask the dead questions. It didn't work with the druid we fought, but might you be able to ask one of the orc's for information? They must know at least how many of them are here and where most of them would be, maybe who's in charge?"
Algric went over to the dead orc, spat on it, and began to thoroughly loot the body. He picked up the vicious battleaxe, gave it a few practice swings, and put it on his belt. The cloak of resistance was thrown over his shoulders and the ring of protection slipped on his hand. Now, properly equipped, he said "Aye. That we do. Gods know how many more orcs are inside the city square."
Having checked her arrows and discarded ten defective ones, Mel turns her attention to her wounded comrades.
As she reaches out to soothe Fyrtor's wounds, the light in Mel's hands flickers and fades out. Her head droops. "That's ... actually really tiring," she says in a grey voice. "I'm sorry, Fyrtor. Give me a moment, and I'll try again."
"I think," Kelian says hesitantly, "I think I can help."
Everyone looks at him. Taking a deep breath, Kelian closes his eyes, raises his face towards the ceiling, and lets his hands hang loosely by his sides. There is a moment of stillness -- and then a faint, warm breeze flows through the room. Bruises fade and wounds ease as it passes.
"Thank you Kelian, I'm glad you decided to join us on our journey. Good friends are are to find. You seem to have found yourself along the way. Who is it that you worship? Few heal as you just did without a god's hand to guide them. And your sword I saw it glow with power while we were fighting..."
"I follow Erastil," Kelian says, an uncertain look crossing his face. "My parents raised me in his faith. Do you ... do you think these abilities come from him? I don't know. It's just ... something I can do now."
"Túrion, those pits you created were incredibly helpful," Mel tells the Avinoan mage. "They saved us from getting swarmed. I never, ever want to get swarmed by orcs." Her hand strays to a knife on her belt, seemingly without her awareness. "Thank you."