”And why should we? The orcs were allies of convenience, were they not? I think we should get out of here before their survivors rally and come after us. Either that or other tribes may arrive to investigate. I’d hate for these weapons and artifacts to fall into Orcish hands because we stayed behind to look for them.”
“It’s always convenient to have allies, and the Bishopric has precious few at the moment. That and, in my book, the more people out there who hate the same people we do the better. That and asphyxiation is a terrible way to go.”
“Halak!” Muse calls out, running forward. “Or, if you’re someone else, apologies - you look like a druid I know named Halak.”
When he’s a little closer he explains, “we were close to the exit when the ceiling caved in - all of us got out of there alive. I’ve got nothing left for magic, but what can we do to help?”
The earth elemental turns toward you as you approach, a bulky, dense seven feet tall. In a deep, gravelly voice it replies "Yes Halak. Most warriors die. Some survive. Trying dig." He surveys the lot of you, his stony expression impossible to read. "What happen?"
Fyrtor hearing the crys of Mel and Brolin leaves off healing for now and runs to join them just in time to see Halak transform. Think quickly he tries to explain the collapse in a way that Halak could understand. Speaking quietly he says, "We were taking treasures when we triggered a trap. We saw the trap, but could not have known the greatness of it. Had we suspected we would have warned you and your warriors. We will do what we can to aid you, but we cannot stay long. The collapse surely drew the attention of others. Where are your warriors?"
”It wasn’t a bloody trap!” Kazador said, striding forward. ”When our home was bloody invaded and my people MURDERED, we tried to empower our weapons to defend ourselves. Removing my people’s religious artifacts overtaxed the powers that were used to create them, and the city fell apart. It probably would have happened anyways, given the cracks in the Heart. This was no fookin’ trap. It was the death throes of a murdered city! And I bloody mourn the loss as it means that my people can now never return.” He flared in the general direction of the buried orc. ”Luckily my friends here have takin’ a liking to ye, orc. So stay there while they try and dig ye out.”
Fyrtor cringes a little at Kazador's harder but truthful words. To his friend he says, "I'm sorry, I did not mean to trivialize your loss." Turning back to Halak he continues, "It is as my friend has said, though I have tried to explain it in simpler terms. It truly was a trap, whether intentional or not, and it nearly killed us as well."
"Zzzz.....Zzzz.....", Túrion lightly snores leaned against Nelly, who keeps watch on the surrounding area, guarding her Master and the Crates while the others are busy.
Mel nods at Fyrtor's words, and winces at Kazador's.
But without further comment, she starts pulling stones away from the spot where Halak had been digging.
Muse pulls out his anytool and turns it into a shovel. Without wasting a moment he puts it to use. He would have let Halak believe that it was a mundane earthquake without any mention of taking treasures or admitting anything approaching culpability, but what's done is done and it's probably best to give the orc as clear a picture of what was going on as he can draw, explain himself so fully that Halak can no more blame Muse than Muse could blame himself. "What they said, but more diplomatically," he explains. "We found the Heart of Kazad Gravr, which is why Kazador led us here in the first place. It was holding up the ceiling where we found it, but we didn't know that moving it would bring the whole city down. My first thought was about you and the others we'd inadvertently buried - and if it's any consolation, at least this happened now instead of later when you'd moved more people in. Like Kazador said, the Heart was cracked - this would have happened eventually anyway."
Halak the earth elemental regards you quietly or some time then nods. "Good help. Some maybe still alive." He puts his magically-enhanced strength as an elemental to work digging.
Kelian sets about digging through the rubble.
Mel toils alongside the others, but spends most of her attention on helping shore up the areas they excavate, so as to help avoid further collapses.
Unfortunately her lack of familiarity with excavating large holes makes her efforts less helpful than could be hoped.
Drawing a bit of holly from his belt Fyrtor begins to speak words of power. When he finishes an earth elemental appears. In a commanding voice his directs the elemental to remove the rubble even as he begins digging in himself. So great is his concern that he works tirelessly, heaving stones faster than even he thought possible.
The Medium Elemental begins to do as commanded.
Muse doesn't know the first thing about dirtomancy and shovelcraft, having done most of his living in cities and on seas, and so he warns his party, "I'm going to channel Legacy. It's been a long day and I've been asking the ghosts for a lot, and I'm all sorts of off-kilter, so odds are that Legacy'll be taking over my body until he passes out. Should be fine, I'm just warning you all in advance."
He shouts out, "Turion! We could really use Nelly's help here!" and then, everything in as much order as he can make it with such short notice, he cedes control.
Legacy, eyes burning gold, puts shovel to earth.
Nellys ears perk up as Brolin shouts out to her Master and herself.
Gently nudging the Elf awake, she waits for him to shift into a more stable position before getting up and making a few steps towards where she heared the others.
After a tired "Sure, go help them." from Túrion she races to where the digging takes place, and starts removing earth, dirt and stones with paws the size of shovels and the raw strenght of a dozen men.
A short while later, Túrion also makes it there, seeing the efforts: "Careful there, we don't want to destabilize the place, or it'll all come down on those trapped. Straight down here, then over. It'll take a bit longer but we don't put additional stress on the ceiling!"
Muse's body works tirelessly and uncharacteristically wordlessly, seemingly uninterested in conversing with any of you. While the elemental isn't the strongest, it's ability to weave underground serves it well.
Kazador watched as Algric pointedly sat on the side, watching the others. He was completely unwilling to help. Kazador had some fact, at least, going to stand watch. He understood where the others were coming from. But he couldn’t bring himself to help those who had taken part in pillaging his home and killing his people. Part of him knew that this was a chance to stop the cycle of violence...but it was too late. So he turned away, busying himself with something of use, at least.
Mel is hoisting a rock out of the way when she notices the deep golden glow of Brolin's eyes. "Brolin?" she says. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," he thinks, though no one can hear it but Legacy. It's not entirely untrue. It's disconcerting and more than a little unpleasant to have your limbs moving under someone else's control, to work and breath by someone else's rhythm. One might even go so far as to say that it goes against everything Muse has ever striven for. (Though Muse himself wouldn't go so far as to say that - as far as analogies go, he'd find it lacking. Muse strives to be free in spirit and mind, and he still is. It isn't like he's become an unthinking cog in some machine or other, he can still perceive people as such and he still plans on doing what he can, he might not have a hand on the tiller but he can still sure as hell chart a course and recommend it. A better analogy for Legacy's possession would be asking a crewmate or friend to do something he knows they can handle while works on something else - not a perfect analogy either, but a better one, he'd think.) "Please tell her I'm fine. Other people aren't, though, and we need to focus on digging them out."
With nothing better to do, he strikes up a conversation with Legacy. "So . . . got any plans for today?"
You dig for several exhausting hours before finally unearthing the pocket containing several remaining orcs. Five have died from further collapses as you shifted the rubble over them but fifteen remain alive, scrambling out of the opening as soon as they see daylight.
Muse works silently, only responding to Mel's question with a very slight nod. When the opening is made, he descends into the pocket and glances around in the dim light. He finds a small piece of rubble that has a dwarven smith carved into it and pockets the stone. Then he gazes at the body of one of the fallen orcs. His fingers trace slowly over the bead and claw bracelets and the necklace hanging from the orc's neck. But then he reaches under the orc's tunic and pulls out a small, simple necklace that lay against the warrior's skin. This he also pockets then climbs silently back out of the ruins.
Halak helps his remaining warriors out of the pocket of survivors then retakes his orc form. He walks among them, healing a few and binding the wounds of others. It is clear they respect him as a true leader, instead of simply fearing his might as is often the case among orcs. You note that two of the orcs are bound as prisoners. In addition, many of his men have fine dwarven goods and armor bound on their packs. After seeing to his men, he turns to you. "Grateful. We return tribe home now. What you do?"
Algric mutters to Kazador "I'm takin' those crates to dwarven hands first chance I get. With or without you."
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”Oh, and ye aren’t shoving them up yer arse? What a surprise.” Kazador replied. He was tired, physically and mentally. He had just seen his home collapse, and now a group of orcs which had taken part in murdering his people were about to walk away with the works of his kinsmen...because his friends had saved them. And the worst part was that he understood why. At that moment his patience was on the verge of fraying. And after stoically putting up with all of Algric’s abuse, he had just about enough.
Brolin's continued silence makes Mel uneasy. This isn't like him at all, she thinks. He's normally so garrulous.
She watches him -- unobtrusively but closely -- and observes him collecting a carven stone from the ruins and a necklace from a fallen orc. Curious, she thinks.
"Back to Helm," Mel says in answer to Halak's question. "We need to report to the Bishop."
"Where is your Tribe's home, Halak? I understand it is in the vicinity of Brookside?"
Túrion eyes the handful of warriors with the fine Dwarven Goods: "I fear for your safety - opposing groups drawn to the collapse or with less loot may decide to take on your small band to take what you have. As it happens, our dilemma is similar. We have goods we want to move - and we MAY have a ship, but lack a crew. If you and yours would help us, we could possibly help you - help us by crewing the ship, and we will drop you off closer to your lands, saving you weeks of overland travel. What do you say?"
Túrion was so convinced of his idea that he did not carefully word it, only realizing he might have implied weakness after the fact. Worse yet, he made it seem like they would prefer the safety of a ship like cravens over the risk of needing to defend their spoils like proper warriors.
As he realizes his plunder, he looks to Mel and Fyrtor for assistance - the Dwarves certainly would not, and Brolin...seemed not to be himself.
Nelly, having done her part in digging, senses the sudden tension in the air. While before she was watching Brolin intently, she quickly returns to Túrions side, casually panting after the hard physical work, showing off her fangs.
Muse hears Turion put his foot in his mouth and cringes internally. He'd cringe externally, too, if he could. Not how I'd phrase things.
"That was just about the worst way possible to sell the idea," he groans. He wishes that he could step in and do damage control, but he can't. "Legacy, earlier we were talking about defining ages versus being defined by them, and about making lasting change for the better. I think if I can somehow open diplomatic relations between the Bishopric and the Blues, that will almost certainly be the biggest thing I ever do, and that even if I play a major role in the Iustia/Concordat affair. Human kingdoms conquer each other every so often, but constant battle against orcs has been, well, a constant. Brokering some kind of peace between the two races would define an age, and it'd be a damn crying shame to lose that future because one conversation went sour. I know you prefer not to talk to most people, but could you help us recover that future from social faux pas?"
Kazador took a deep breath. He had to stave off a possible disaster.
”Like it or not, I am the last thane of this city. Those weapons are my duty. My responsibility. They will he returned to Dwarven hands, so that this might not happen to others. You can come with us to ensure it is done properly.”
He didn’t like resorting to authority. It was, in fact, the first time he had called himself thane dice his disgrace. But I’m a situation like this, duty was clear. The iron-strong chains of honor bound them both, and he knew that there were few arguments that could break them.
Mel notes that Brolin is acting quite strange indeed, few of his normal mannerisms or gait preserved. She also notes that he has collected two objects which deeply signify some sense of home both for the dwarves who lived here and the dead orcish warrior.
Brolin turns to observe Fyrtor, a cautious, curious expression written subtly in the lines of his face.
Fyrtor shook his head as he heard Turion's words fall flat. "Halak, you and yours are strong. I do not doubt that you would be able to defend what you have taken. We are strong, we could I am sure make our way back to Helm without difficulty carrying those crates. However, what we can't do is crew a ship. We simply do not have enough hands. We must to this for the sake of speed. Time is of the essence. The elven nation which wronged your tribe tricking you into attacking the lands of the Bishopric will likely begin a war soon. If that happens the whole might of that nation will turn against our land. If we fall you are wise enough to know that they will come to claim these lands as there own as well. Even a great bear does not fight with a pack of wolves if it can avoid it. Soon our nation's will need allies. Please come with us and stand strong at our sides."
"Oh, dear," Mel says under her breath; but she cannot think of anything in particular that might remedy the situation. Her eyes dart amongst the participants, watching to see what happens.
Brolin's mouth opens and he speaks in a lower than normal voice "No orcs have learned shipcraft before. You would be the first orcs to conquer the sea." He speaks this with a confidence of one consulting first-hand knowledge.
Halak considers this quietly for a moment, then spits at Turion's feet. "Don't need help from puny elf. But we conquer sea first. With you if you heal some and give food."
Túrion tenses up as the Orc spits, then quickly relaxes as he hears the words, quickly extending his hand to calm Nelly as she starts to rise.
Unwilling to risk the balance achieved, he remains silent, leaving it to those who know the Shaman to work out the details.
He slightly bows to Brolin with a nod of acknolwedgement, then addresses Mel:"I'll go hook the crates up with Nelly again.", then does exactly that.
Fyrtor nods, "Good, I can help to heal the worst hurt. Here's some of the food I have. It's not much for so many, but we can find more." Fyrtor then pulls the trail rations from his sack and moves to heal the orcs that look the most hurt.
Kazador watched the conversation with hesitation. These orcs had murdered his people and looted his home without hesitation. How many children and how many elderly died to their axes? Or were allowed to die due to their indifference? He watched carefully to see if the orcs seemed ready to turn on them once they were healed. He wouldn’t put it past them. He also tried to get a gauge on whether they seemed to truly take the deal seriously.
Kazador gets the sense that Halak truly cares for his own people and considers the light-skinners useful allies.
Content that there was no immediate need to kill these orcs, Kazador stood next to the crate of weapons, his hammer resting on his shoulder. So long as the orcs didn’t attack, he didn’t quite care what games his comrades wanted to play. He just wanted to get the crate into the hands of his people. If their pretty words could get that done faster, then all the better.
Seeing that the remaining orcs are not severely wounded, Mel opts to save her remaining abilities for the moment.
"Well then, we should move on," she says, looking up. The winds are already teasing away the edges of the enormous dust pillar raised by Kazad Gravr's collapse. Soon it will disperse, but in the meantime it has doubtless attracted the attention of every intelligent creature with eyes to see for miles around. "That cloud of dust is just like waving a giant flag saying 'hey, there's something here, come look!' Let's head for the ship. I hope it's still there."
She looks around. "I think it's that way?" she says, pointing. But it's clear she doubts her own estimate.
"We would be faster going that direction - we did not know exactly where to head until Kaz and Alg got their bearings on our way here. Now it's simpler, get to the river as fast as possible, then follow it downstream. So we can cut some distance by making a beeline for that bend there.", Túrion helpfully corrects Mel's estimate as he finishes hooking up the crates again.
As Fyrtor finished using the wand to its end he tosses it aside. "Turion's right that way will be quicker. Let's get going. We need to hurry."
As they begin journeying Fyrtor seeks out Halak and speaks to him in druidic.
As you begin to leave, the orcs move more quickly and with more life after the healing and food you spare for them. Everyone packs up and begins walking toward the boat that Turion so aptly points you toward but Brolin lags for a few minutes, standing very still and surveying what can been seen of the rubble of Kazad Gravr from the surface. Then he turns and quietly begins walking along with the rest of you. As the sun is setting, you make it back to the Concordat boat that you won in battle.
Fyrtor notices Brolin's odd behavior as the group prepares to leave and asks him, "Brolin, is that you? Or are you Legacy?"
When they arrive and find the ship intact Fyrtor 1uietly says to Mel, "I'm glad that it is still here. I'm not sure what we would have done if the ship were gone."
Túrion walks silently, half to avoid accidentally insulting the Orcs, and the other half to watch Brolin's behaviour. When Fyrtor comments on it, Túrion quickly pauses to see if the question offends the spirit, then answers: "Legacy, I reckon from his behavior and movement. Not Brolin, that much seems certain. What happened? Did one of his dancers take over? He seems cooperative enough, but I have little idea how to properly engage with a being like that..."
"...my experience with disembodied spirits clinging to a semblence of life while not becoming hostile in the process is limited to Brolin."
"Oh, interesting. I haven't talked with that one yet," Mel says. "I wonder what he's like?"
She glances thoughtfully back at the man striding along behind them in Brolin's boots.