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Seeing Brolin go down into the darkness, Kazador felt his heart skip a beat. "Get back up here ye fool! They'll take ye to the ground and rip yer face off!"
Túrion stares at the crossbow with the loaded light bolt in frustration.
Fine then, have it your way and ignore me, Dwarf.
Considering his options, he decided that he was decently save here, for the time being, and simply shouted out to Nelly: <Sylvan>"Nelly, finish him then retreat to the tunnel we came from."
Nelly listens to Túrion, getting ready to withdraw...the ground here was unpleasant. But that distraction also affected her accuracy, and she simply wildly snaps in the prone orcs general direction.
Nelly kills the orc in front of her. One of the other orcs, seeing the problematic situation and hearing what Brolin said, turns to his allies "Bring the leaders. We will fight another day." He and another then drag the fallen spellcasters toward a safe route for their retreat. The orcs that fell off the wall rise and join them.
From distance, four more shots sing out, this time aimed at Nelly!
Nelly is struck by three arrows (19 damage total).
The orcs were retreating. Which meant that his hammer was lost. Part of him screamed to give chase, to retrieve that which meant more to him than a limb. But to do so meant death, that he was sure of. For a long moment he stood in indecision. Finally, he took to the air....
...and landed next to Nelly. There were tears in his eyes which could not be held back. His back shielded the brave beast from the hail of arrows. ”Steady now, easy does it. I’m going to pick ye up now, bring ye to yer elf. Nay need to bite. Easy does it...” His voice cracked as he tried to calm the wolf. If it attacked him in its fury he didn’t care.
His hammer was gone. His honor was gone. His soul was damned. But he could tell how much the wolf meant to the elf. He knew the danger everyone was in because of him. If he could save them from his folly then he would, whatever the consequences.
"Kazador, what are you doing?! They're getting away with your hammer..."
Kazador’s head whipped around. He saw his hammer...on the body of the orc who stole it! Raw emotions flooded...namely anger. Anger at the shame brought upon him. A howl of rage and pain came from him as his reason left him and he flew towards the orcs.
Nelly let go of the Orc as it goes limp, only to feel arrows in her flank. Growling at the darkness from where they came, she is still smart enough to trust her partners judgement. If the Elf told her to retreat, there was a reason. Maybe more of the hostile ground? Twisting on the spot, Nelly tried to jump backwards towards where she came from - a maneuver that would normally not give her much trouble, but the wounded paws did not help.
Reluctantly, she resolved to move on the ground, limping back towards the entrance tunnel they came from.
Kelian, seeing that no orcs are likely to be climbing the wall after all, takes his shield off again and picks up the bow he'd set down previously; the glowing weapon illuminates the orcs below.
Her eyes clear once more and no longer clutched in the bony embrace of the wall, Mel hears Brolin offer to let them flee. She lowers her bow a notch. "Oh, are we done ... ?"
Then Kazador barrels after them, crying out in rage over the theft of his hammer.
"I guess not."
And with that she lofts three arrows towards the only orcs she can see -- those at the base of the wall below Kelian, now illuminated by the glow of his bow.
Muse follows after the retreating orcs as the archers on the wall harry them. "Ditch my friend's hammer and call off your archers, and I'll call off mine!"
Muse isn't at peak form, persuasively speaking. I'm too tired to deal with this. But maybe their sense of self-preservation will win out. It never hurts to try. "The bow I used is enchanted to never kill it's target. When your leaders wake up, tell them I want to talk, and that I think they're being used as tools by a third party. My name's Captain Brolin Muse, of the Sonder."
Turning abruptly from the orcs carrying their leadership to safety, Captain Muse bellows into the darkness with a voice accustomed to making itself heard in any conditions. The fact that it isn't necessarily true yet matters little to the captain; it might be true in a moment and if it isn't it'll still buy time where his friends aren't being shot at. As a secondary purpose, Mel speaks orc, and it'd be good to clue his friends on the wall in on what he's trying to do.
Realizing from the dwarf's cry of anger what was about to happen Fyrtor takes stock of the situation. Kazador's not thinking straight. He's battle mad. I need to get to him before he get's himself killed.
Looking down over the wall Fyrtor determines he can make the jump, but it's going to hurt. He runs along the wall, and jumps over the merlins trying to land on a spot uncluttered by orc bodies.
Landing he nearly collapses, but his technique and dexterity have helped him avoid the worse of the pain. Gritting his teeth he calls out to his friends he knows will be worried for him, "Don't worry I'm ok." Then he moves forward and assumes a defensive stance. To the orc he calls out, "You heard my friend. Do as he says."
"Oi! Ye think ye can get away that easily?" Algric took aim at the orcs who were dragging away the wounded leaders.
Most of the party moves to reposition but Algric continues firing. He brings down the orc dragging the cleric and severely wounds the one dragging the half-orc with Kazador's weapon.
Brolin's words seem to have some effect as only three arrows loft toward the wall, all focused on Algric. One if well fired but it can't hit Algric from his cover behind a merlon. The orcs on the ground continue to retreat.
Algric took the risk of leaning over the wall to shoot at the retreating orcs. ”They’re archers range us due to our light. I can’t return fire!”
Kazador will fly over, putting the orc axe away as part of the move action. As his second move action he will pick up his hammer.
"Are we fighting or talking?" Mel asks, an arrow nocked and ready to go. "I'm getting mixed signals here." She moves up the battlement, taking a position behind another merlon closer to the remaining orcs.
x3 if confirmed
”We’re idiots to think we can work with any orcs. My th-Kazador was a fool to agree to this plan. The only saving grace is that the ground is littered with dead orcs.”
Algric said this as his third arrow flew out. The usually quiet dwarf’s voice sounded tired and bitter.
Kelian, hearing Mel's words in common, follows suit.
Mel looks back towards Algric for a moment, where he stands steadfastly ignoring the wall of bony arms grasping at him. "That sounds like a recipe for endless war, Algric," she says, pityingly.
Algric watched with satisfaction as the arrow hit home. ”Aye. And we already lost, so they don’t deserve to see this end.”
The bony hands reach out and grasp Algric.
Kazador flies over the other orc and kills the one dragging the unconscious magus.
Between Muse's words in what he assumed was orcish and the arguing of Mel and Algric, Fyrtor is left unsure of whether to attack or not. He decides to wait and see. Touching his scimitar with his hand he says, "lig!" and the arrow that had been glowing in the webs goes dark as his scimitar begins to glow. Then he moves to Kazador's side hugging the wall as he goes to avoid the last orc standing there.
Taking up a defensive position he asks Kazador, "Are you ok my friend?"
With some frustration, Túrion watches the dancing lights overhead. Risking a quick glance, he saw the Orcs retreating...but that was, without doubt, an arrow that just whizzed past the merlon moments ago.
It would seem they won - time to get the hell out of here, but he certainly wouldn't expose himself to enemy fire first...
Nelly continues to limp towards the entrance tunnel. Once she is feeling sufficiently save at the corner of the darkness, she starts licking her paws.
"Damnit."
"I was trying to negotiate -" but then everyone died horribly right in front of me because I didn't communicate. But not everyone is dead, and there's still hope of getting the archers to stand down. "We've still yet to talk with the other orcish faction, and I want to hear both sides of the story."
"So take a prisoner and interrogate him. Or a dead one, as far as asking questions is concerned. What, you want to offer them tea and cookies and hope they sit down and tell you their story?", Túrion shouts back at Brolin.
Now was NOT the time to second-guess their actions. And after slaughtering about 2 dozen of their friends, right now was probably not the best time to try a diplomatic approach...
Frustrated that he has to do this, Muse rationalizes thusly, "If you want to chase down their archers in the pitch dark, be my freaking guest! Or we can try and broker peace, as civil folk are wont to do. Gracious in victory -" he stumbles over the idea he's trying to express. "Pulling teeth is like pulling teeth, by making acquaintances who don't hate your guts you widen the pool of skillsets you can apply to a given circumstance . . ."
The remaining visible orc steps toward Fyrtor with his axe raised high when a shaft rushes through the air, taking him through the armpit and felling the sturdy warrior. But Mel's shaft is met with a volley from the darkness. One grazes her on the neck, a hair from a major artery!
Kazador took a deep breath as he recovered his hammer. He had thought it as lost as his honor. He had recovered it! But his honor would not be so easy to regain. He felt the power of the runes as his hands touched the weapon. Proof, perhaps, that the gods had not totally forsaken him.
”Take cover! If they can’t see us then they can’t shoot.” Algric ducked behind the wall, sheltering against the orc arrows.
"The Orcish Archers would not be in the dark if this stubborn Dwarf would illuminate their position.", Túrion kicks his crossbow with the loaded bolt of light towards Algric again. It was equal parts stress from the combat situation and a strong dislike of being unable to do something. "Broker peace after we ambushed them and killed the majority of their number? I think you got your sequencing wrong - unless they wish to surrender, and the arrows whizzing past suggest no - I am inclined to belief they are not feeling sufficiently civil to accept your graciousness right now."
Nelly listens to what is shouted in some foreign language. She listens to arrows, to steps, to everything. Right now, she was busy tending her wounds, and that means she had ample time to listen.
”Shoot, move, communicate, kill. They won’t stay put like us. Watch.” Algric took the crossbow and fired...
Túrion picks up the crossbow and throws it towards Algric: "Fire on my mark!"
"Whatever we're doing figure it out fast!" Fyrtor calls out. There are no longer any orcs near him and Kazador, but arrows are still flying and he is unsure of where the ground is trapped. With little else to do Fyrtor focuses on dodging any arrows as best he can. As he stands by the dwarf's side. "Kazador! Are you ok?!"
Mel claps a hand to her neck, feeling the blood trickle through her fingers.
"Sorry, Brolin," she says, her voice rough with pain. "We should have opened with talk if we were going to. At this point, either we're going to kill them or they're going to flee. They're not civilized -- surrendering would be a mark of shame. It's victory or a warrior's death for them."
”Shoot, move, communicate, kill. They won’t stay put like us. Watch.” Algric took the crossbow and fired...
"We should have opened with talk if we were going to. At this point, either we're going to kill them or they're going to flee. They're not civilized -- surrendering would be a mark of shame. It's victory or a warrior's death for them."
They attacked us on sight, we couldn't have opened with diplomacy. But now that we hold a position of strength, they could be made to see reason . . . While he mumbles under his breath, Muse flies towards the archers in the dark, bringing his dancing lights with him. If the murderous orcs shooting at his murderous friends that's an uncharitable thought and an untrue one flee Turion's enchanted crossbow bolt, Muse will just move after them. And if they shoot at him while he's floating over their heads, well, those are arrows not pointed at his allies. Let them flee, even - give them whatever small victory or concession their pride demands, the important thing is to stop people killing each other now, negotiation can come later . . . But the time for letting people run with small victories came and went. And, truly? It was his fault. He'll need to sit down with his team, later, and talk. Communicate.
Glowing motes of light around him, Muse comes to a stop in the air above the archers, hiding as much of his body as he can behind a shield far too small for the purpose. A far larger shield, he bemoans, is slung on his back - stupid of him to trade it out for this one. "Everyone's dead except you four," he tells the orcs, "and our wizard can see you now. You're about to die. Nothing can save you now but complete surrender to our terms. Lie on your stomachs."
But he suspected even as he said the words, looking down at faces deformed by rage, eyes full of hate, he suspected that it wouldn't work.
"He's ordered them to surrender," Mel translates for the benefit of the others. "By lying down, I think."
She pulls her hand away from her injured neck, wipes it on the wall, leaving a smear of her own crimson blood across its surface.
Oh, Brolin, she thinks. I wish the world were that way. A few weeks ago I thought it was. Her lips twist bitterly.
But that does not stop her from nocking one more arrow with her red hand.
Kelian follows suit, nocking one more arrow and sighting carefully towards the orcs revealed by Brolin's dancing lights, but holding it in case they surrender.
Kazador finds his hammer on the body of the orc that summoned it from him. He also notes that orc is still breathing.
Algric fires an arrow that lands near the orc archers, illuminating them. Brolin's approach heightens the illumination.
Holding for just a moment to see if they do as Brolin asks, Túrion fully expects them to not comply. The moment an Orc does anything except surrender/drop on the floor, he acts.
As the light arrow illuminates the Orcish Archers, Túrion focuses inwards, drawing strenght he was not aware he had, a conduit pulling raw magical power from a world beyond into the material plane, unleashing another set of tentacles upon the cowardly Orcs that hid in the shadows.
On some level, he was fully aware it was a smart tactic, and calling it cowardly was completely subjective, but it felt satisfactory not to be helplessly exposed to their barrage any longer.
Turion's spell reaches up from the ground and grasps the remaining orcs, crushing them with intense strength.
But none of them manage to break free! But despite their predicament, they show no signs of bending to Brolin's attempt at intimidation. One curses back at him in orcish.
Algric needed no excuse to keep killing orcs. He gladly kept firing into the trapped orc archers now that he could see them.
Kazador meanwhile went about the grim business of killing the unconscious orc leaders.