Wulfrum shakes his head at the group. "Now now, no amount of torture is gonna get this spiteful race to balk. Put his head to the ground and let's put him out of his misery before I change my mind on the idea of mercy to someone who tried to burn my beard from my face" he said trying to keep some measure of cool in the situation.
Gritting his teeth, Varin tightened his grip as best he can before swearing loudly. "The Old man is right, just stick a knife in him now please. It is all getting a little too cruel!"
Arlan snaps the orc's neck without further thought, then looks to the others.
Should we keep looking for whatever they wanted down here? As he speaks he shrinks down slightly, his thick folds of skin and protruding brow receding to their natural states.
The half-elf then searches through the alchemist's belongings for anything of value.
"I was just giving a veiled threat in a language he'd understand." Beltzer replies. "I think just killing him is the best option but not because I want to torture him. Considering this Orc is the only 'face' to the attacking force we've got, likely the townsfolk would be none too pleased just to let him hang." He shrugs the situation off seeing as how the orc is likely dead now after that loud snap.
"Wait Arlan" Beltzer says approaching the body. "This orc might have something useful on him or at least some intel that might be useful."
Signed,
Grenseldek,
Glorious Chieftan of the Twisted Hearts
This intricate tattoo covers the bearer’s face in thousands of hair-fine lines of ink and carefully incised scars. The bearer can activate the tattoo to cause the marked design to shift and the scars to open and pull the bearer’s face into a different shape. The bearer then gains the benefits of disguise self, save that he can take only the form of a specific half-orc, human, or orc, and the disguise lasts up to 5 hours per day. This duration need not be continuous, but it must be used in 1-hour increments. The material components for the kin’s face tattoo include rare pigments that are mixed with the bearer’s blood, then worked into the bearer’s skin. To remove this tattoo the tattooed portions must be erased and the scars healed.
These gold heart-shaped pendants, which open to reveal small hollows inside, always come in pairs and must be on the same plane of existence to function. When two people with a strong emotional bond (such as good friends, family members, or romantic partners) each wear one of the lockets containing a keepsake from the other person (usually a lock of hair or small picture), the lockets’ magic becomes evident. After 24 hours of wearing a linked locket, each wearer knows the condition of the other as via a constant status spell. In addition, when either wearer uses the aid another action to assist the wearer of the linked locket, the bonus gained is increased by 1. Lastly, once per day, each wearer may use one of the known skills of the wearer of the linked locket, as borrow skill. If either wearer of a linked true love locket takes the pendant off, has it forcibly removed, is killed, or travels to another plane, both lockets cease to function until reattuned for 24 hours.
Lys lowers her crossbow, sighing. "Yeah, guess you're right.", she says, sitting on the ground and grabbing her knees, crossbow laying next to her. Well, it's done., looking at the worn group. At least none of us died..., thoughts pass through her head as she stares in the dark lake. "Just take what you're going to take and let's get out." All the cheeriness in her voice is gone.
Nerak runs up with his robes hiked up in his hands. Lorn closing in through the air, his many pebbles shifting in a random pattern. Without missing a beat Nerak runs pass his comrades without a word and gives the orckin a shift kick in his green jewels before stripping him of everything of value.
"You cost me my best scroll! You'll be repaying that first."
Once everything is removed he seems to calm down. Uttering a simple spell he scans the bomber and his items.
"Well I got a few bits of magic from his face and that locket. Those scars are a magical item made from the flesh on his face. Lets him change to look like a certain half orc, human, or orc. Could explain how he got inside and information on our settlement. Now that locket is connected to another, it grants a few benefits but the important one is letting both owners know about each other and how their doing. When we took it off, his partner will know something happened. I doubt they will be happy, with us most of all I bet. So we got at least one other person coming for us sooner or later. As to what to do with him. I could care less, I have no pity for killers and those that wrong me and mine. If we could find some more of those nasty rats I'd say feed him to them if your feeling nasty."
He looked over his burned self.
"I know I am."
He leaves it at that and looks over the other items. Focusing on the letter, he reads it out load for the others before commenting on it.
"I'll give you one guess as to where these items are. I'll study both once things are settled. I wonder what this Giantkiller's Tome is?"
DC 15 Knowledge (nobility) on Twisted Hearts:
The final battle between the Twisted Hearts and the humans took place on Bloodmarch Hill (Trunau), where Hero Chieftain Uskroth finally fell with 23 spears and swords planted firmly in his flesh. The few surviving Twisted Hearts managed to temporarily drive the humans back south, but both the orcs and hill giants knew their campaign was over without their mighty leader. Before the Twisted Hearts retreated north, they laid Uskroth to rest in a tomb beneath Bloodmarch Hill, burying the giant hero with his favorite weapon, a stone warhammer named Agrimmosh, which Uskroth had claimed was the hammer of Minderhal himself. The subterranean crypt was carefully hidden so that in the future, when Belkzen pushed Lastwall back again, the orcs and giants could reclaim the treasures within and the glory of Hero Chieftain Uskroth.
"I recognise the name Twisted Hearts but I unfortunately don't know more than it is familiar." Beltzer says listening to the note read aloud. "What does the rock refer to though? Does it refer to just a plain rock that was in the grave of one of these giants? It doesn't look like this orc has a hammer on him either so it looks like he didn't find either of those objects. Or is the rock some form of compass or magical device to find a location. The note says something about finding the way to the Giantkiller's tome whatever that is."
Beltzer walks over to Wulfurm and hands him back his wand. "Thanks for this old timer." He then holds out his hands. "I've got some magic left, let's close up some of those wounds."
Afterwards he walks over to Lys with hand outstretched. "Come now, battle is never a fun thing but at least hold hope that the spring stands for another day." He says with a toothy grin. Those lost this day weigh heavy on him too though he doesn't wish for the group to wallow in sadness now. I don't want to give an inch to those that threaten us..
While Nerak is going through some of the notes and thinking to himself, Beltzer says. "Hold still, let's turn your skin a bit more pink again instead of crispy red."
"The Twisted Nail orc tribe live in a ruined fort due north called Redlake Fort. Their leader is Greneldek a hill giant, so I guess we know who sent all these orcs now. Back in the day both giants and orcs fought under the name Twisted Hearts, guess they brought it back. Judging from their history, our town sits on their tomb. Explains why they attacked and were so keen on getting in here. Wanted their old hero's stuff. Let me know if you want the details word for word as I know them."
He retells what he recalls if asked before continuing.
"Anyways based on what we have seen in here and what we now know. I am guessing that hammer held by the giant skeleton with a rock in one of it's eye sockets is what is left of Uskroth and the prime goods being sought out. Pretty direct really, not that I couldn't be wrong. But a little checking should clear that up one way or the other."
Yeah, I think you're right. Those mutts interrupted us last time. Varin, you wanna go fetch that hammer after all? I'm sure Wulf wants to smash some of the bones anyway...
Wulfrum shakes his head at Arlan looking tired beyond his years "Aye lad, if it weren't for the night long battle I would be game indeed for smashing them bones but what I'd like right now is a hot bath, a warm bed, and maybe a bit of company...bah, too tired for that, sleep. I think I could sleep for a day if the world will let me." he said as he took back his wand from Beltzer. He tried to wipe what grim and grit off himself he could as he gathered up his strength to head back towards the town.
Varin rolls his shoulders and nods, grinning as he begins to advance on the Hammer. "Oh yeah. This baby is mine!" As he walked towards the Hammer, he circled around by his own, picking it up with one hand, holding it down by his side. "Well girl, I might be assigning you to a wall, we may see!"
He stepped up towards the hammer, laying his Earthbreaker at the base of the Giant skeleton, before reaching out and slowly laying a hand on the Hammer. "Now this aint going to come alive and f$%%in kill me is it?"
"Well if the rock is meant to point to something I'm sure upon inspection of Uskroth's 'eye' we should be able to determine if it's some form of map or magical in any way I should think?" Beltzer says continuing on Nerak's line of thought.
Beltzer pats Nerak on the back. "I don't think there is any necromancy left here." He shrugs "Well... at least I hope not, we're really getting worse for wear here."
The skeleton of the Hero Chieftain is still clad in Uskroth’s armor and holds Agrimmosh, the Hammer of Unmaking, in its bony hands. Agrimmosh appears to be a simple, giant-sized stone blacksmith’s hammer engraved with Minderhal’s holy symbol. In addition, Uskroth was entombed with much of his treasure. The chests, vases, and other containers piled around Uskroth’s funerary spire are overflowing with coins, gemstones, jewelry, and other fineries worth a total of 1,300 gp.
In addition, scattered among the treasure are several items valuable in their own right, including a masterwork breastplate, a suit of masterwork splint mail, four +1 human-bane arrows, 13 adamantine crossbow bolts, a masterwork orc double axe, a heavyload belt, a scroll of phantasmal killer, a scroll of tongues, and a wand of inflict moderate wounds with 7 charges remaining.
The rock lodged in Uskroth’s eye socket is no simple stone. Removing the fist-sized hunk of dark, igneous rock and examining its other side reveals it to be a magnificent geode whose rich violet and verdant emerald crystals form glittering crystalline patterns.
Nerak looks over the armor before moving on to the hammer and finally the nonmagical stone. He manages to unravel the magical threads of spells coming from the armor and makes it's abilities known to his comrades. He also explains the symbol of the god Minderhal.
"Bet that story is for the stone giant's benefit. Makes them feel smug, until one of the more powerful giants come around. Then they learn what's what real fast I bet."
When he focuses on the hammer he just shakes his head at all of it. He knew when he had no chance of figuring something out. The hammers magic was out of his range of experience by far.
"As they say, a wise man knows when he knows nothing."
Finally the rock comes under his eyes and he shrugs.
"Sorry I know dwarves and even learned from them. But in the end I am no gravel monkey."
He tosses it to a comrade with a snicker at his dwarven brothers. Lorn swoops in and hovers above his head, far closer to his master's description then anyone else in the cavern.
Wulfurm picks up the rock, it was indeed pretty. He held it it for a bit before looking to the others and shrugging. "Don't you be looking at me, I ain't no stone licker either." he said before pocketing it for the time being. He knew it was pretty and therefore valuable to someone.
He looked over at the armor and squatted running his hands over the work. He gave a low whistle "Come 'ere boy and tell me me what you think of this work. I reckon me and you might be the only ones who understand the craftsmanship that went into it. Not to mention probably the only ones who might wear it." he said to Varin. His fingers gently going over the details of the metal.
"Well..what do you think, you looking to dip into some heavier armor? Maybe you been wanting to compensate a bit for size?" he said teasingly as he looked at the great big hammer. Sure he jested but he was curious if Varin wanted the armor or not. If not, he wouldn't say no to it at the moment.
You gonna wear the old dead giant's armor, Wulf? Now that I'll pay to see. C'mon, let's do all the magic mumbo-jumbo back in town. I want to head over to Cham's and see if Ma's alright.
Varin hefted the new Hammer and flexed, swinging it from side to side and smiling slightly. When Wulf called him over, he strolled over, hammer over his shoulder, before crouching down beside the Dwarf. His eyes widened slowly as Nerak recounted the qualities imbued in the armor and he nodded softly.
"To possess such qualities and still maintain such a shine and luster after all these years... What I wouldn't give for my own work to last that long. I'd kill for the knowledge of something like this. It would be interesting to see whether we could replicate it, don't you think?"
When Wulf asked if he intended to dip in to some heavier armor, Varin grinned and knocked a steel gauntlet against his chest, shaking his head softly. "Heavier? By the gods if I go heavier I will sink in to the ground old man. Nay I do not think that armor is made for me. I say wear it with pride, a beautiful artifact such as that, it deserves to be put to hard use and maintained by the best!" He grinned, patting Wulf on the shoulder before standing slowly and stretching.
"Right, are we ready to go? Let's get out of here. I second the old man on needing a hot bath and a bed. Though my young bones could stand the company!" He laughed and gathered up his gear, carrying both of the large weapons, making him look a little ridiculous.
The companions leave the newly dead bodies among the previously dead bodies of the giant's tomb. You don't hear the scuttling of large arachnids leaving their webs to collect the recent kills. Your loot is unevenly distributed heavily weighing on the front-liners.
You emerge from the hole above the Hopespring pond. Two wounded guards happily greet you. When you tell them that everything is dead inside, they start to escort you to Upper Trunau. While the battle appears to be over, the town is wrecked. Survivors who sheltered in Upper Trunau (some who wanted to burn a half-orc girl) have started cleaning. You receive tired smiles, quiet expressions of gratitude, and looks of embarrassment from their past behavior.
Patrol Sergeant Omast Frum commands the Western Wall with four guards focusing on restoring the defenses and reverently collecting the dead townsfolk. He soberly waves to you when you pass.
Wulfrum barely seems to even notice the extra weight of the armor as he soldiers on caring the extra gear strapped to his back. He looks over at the Sergeant and gives him a salute.
"Do you need any more help? We've cleared out any stragglers that showed up and secured the town as best we could." he offered, his gruff tone softened a bit but the weariness showing on his face.
Lys stares at the water. Ah, hell. So many dead, again., as she looks to the right and sees Nerak running with his robes pulled up, and kicking the orc ineffectively, chuckling despite herself. She stands up, dusting herself off, then shoulders her crossbow.
Taking several steps towards the orc, a smile attempts to crawl on her face again. "Now, now, leave some of the good stuff for me!", she says, taking a couple of steps towards the orc. Upon reaching the body, she raises an eyebrow to the ammunition. Picking up one of the bolts, a grin appears on her face. "Ho-ho-hooo! Is this what I think it is?!", stuffing five of them in her left boot and another five in her bag. "Nerak, grab those!", she says, handing the wizard the three remaining ones. "Just in case really, really want to kill someone who's behind a wall.", she says, winking.
Lys is looking really down and trying to fight it.
-------------------
Walking out of the cave, she waves at Omast, stopping to wait at the others, staring at the distance and the rising smokes. Just look at this...
Arlan knows Lys well and approaches her.
What doesn't kill us makes us stronger. That's true for towns too, not just people. Those cowards will think twice before attacking our walls again. I'm starving, let's go get some food. C'mon, he puts his arm around her, squeezing her in an embrace as they walk side by side.
The half-elf gives a respectful nod to Omast as if to say: Good Job .
Varin glanced at Lys for a moment, frowning with concern, before Arlan stepped in and attempted to cheer the woman up. Seeing this, he turned his attention elsewhere, focusing out over the ruins around him. These attacks were becoming more brutal, more harrowing and the people... too many lost, too much grief and darkness and not enough good in the world. The people of Trunau were strong and resilient, but even a stone, oft beaten by a river, will begin to be worn away.
'The tide of Green is rising once again, and there isn't much we can do about it, not here anyway... We need action. I hope someone has some idea of what we need to do!'
He sighed softly to himself, before stopping before Omast, resting his Earthbreaker and the Giants hammer on the ground and stretching slowly. He saluted slightly, and smiled. "Sergeant Omast, good to see you on your feet sir. How goes the defenses here?"
'Lucky bastard has the lives of a cat and the digestion of a goat!'
"What news of the Survivors? Do we have a butchers tally?"
'Too many gone, regardless of the numbers!'
Wulfrum kept the head of the orc that they had found the locket on in a bag that he carried. He thought about it for a while and yelled up at Omast "DO WE HAVE ANY HOUNDS? I GOT SOMETHING I NEED TO LOOK INTO" he yelled up at him pointedly, more so that if any onlookers might hear that had information on a hound in the village.
Omast acknowledges Wulfrum and approaches. When within conversational distance, he replies, "most of them are with Kurst clearing the Inner Quarter near the front gates. You might find some masterless or lap dogs wandering around up here."
After a pause, "good to see you boys." He looks each of you in the eyes and nods, even Lys who he considers one of the boys.
The worst is over for now, though I'm concerned if this giant will try again. Since we have what he is looking for I guess we could lead them away from the village, or take the fight to them? There likely is way too many of them for us to handle. Maybe an assassination? Much as I don't like the prospect there might be little way to defend the village from further attacks. We could maybe steal the rock and find out what they were after? Too many choices at the moment, we need time to think. Beltzer thinks to himself mulling over the reason for the attacks and what to do next. Lying in wait in Hopespring definitely isn't an option though it pains him to leave as soon as he got back.
The locket intrigues him as well. Could it be a loved one or someone he was hunting? I wouldn't put either past him, considering how surprising motives can be behind all the Green. Especially half-orcs. He doubts the others care for listening to wild theories on something that might be inconsequential, at least for now. Might be time for it later.
"Good to see you still among the living Omast. Where is mother and the wounded?" Beltzer asks briefly, his mind still racing on other thoughts.
Omast turns to Varin and replies, "Defenses are better now. But with gate filled with debris using it will difficult. No, news from the survivors from the lower sections of town. The chief defender headed through here a few minutes ago with the butcher's bill. I didn't ask."
The heroes continue their climb up Bloodmarch Hill toward Upper Trunau and the Chief Defender. Through orc body infested grounds and charred trees and houses, you pass what's left of the Killin' Ground. Rabus pauses his almost pointless cleaning and waves to you with a weary expression on his face. "Drinks are on the house when I can open," he offers optimistically with sarcasm, because the roof and walls of his "house" have always been canvas.
Past the well, you enter the last standing barricade in front of the gate. You find Keltza and Agrit Staginsdar still tending to Sara Morninghawk and other critically wounded.
Beltzer walks over to Keltza and Agrit saying to the others. "I'll catch up in a bit."
While there with the two tending to the wounded he spends the time casting his healing hex on everyone he can, attending to the most wounded first and rushing around trying save everyone. He knows deep down he can't, but that doesn't stop him from trying.
After a little while Beltzer will return to the group all but collapsing to the floor. "This is perhaps the longest day of my life. I hope to not live another like it!" He says exasperated.
Lys doesn't reply to Arlan, sinking in her head. She continues onward, staring at the sky. After a while, she sends Arlan a smile. "Well, I guess you're right, aren't you. Arlan Ward giving good advice. The world IS coming to an end, isn't it...", she chuckles, elbowing Arlan in the ribs and continuing onward. Ah, f*@& it. He is right. If we can push over an organised assault with giants, the town is staying here. I'll still get wasted tonight, though...
---
"Good to see you boys."
Lys frowns. "What do you mean, boys?", furrowing the remains of her eyebrows and putting her hands on her waist. "We have Wulfrum. He's seen the creation of this world and will see it's end.", she chuckles, poking Wulfrum in the belly. She stops after giving the old dwarf a raspberry, and turns towards Omast. "Uh, Sarge? What's happened to the gates? We saw one of them crashed, but I don't know nothing of the other ones." She nervously steps from foot to foot.
Arlan laughs heartily at Lys' chiding of both him and Wulfrum, a loud, snorting, childish laugh that sends his chew spittle flying. He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve and sobers up a bit at the archer's gate query, interested in the response.
You eventually see Halgra and report. She is exhausted and busy rebuilding the town. The town grieves and slowly works toward normalcy. The priorities over the next two weeks are burying or burning the dead, reinforcing defenses, rebuilding shelters, organizing stocks of food and material, and sharing cathartic stories of the battle.
After two days, Rabus manages to start serving drinks at the Killin' Ground.
RETURNING HOME-
Clapping the others on the shoulder and smiling sadly, Varin turns from the group and sets off, down some familiar streets. As the day brightened, he found himself standing outside the ruins of a small comfortable looking cottage.
"Ma?" he ventured sheepishly, laying his pack down slowly before pushing the garden gate open and walking slowly up the path. "Erastil please make her be okay...'
Reaching the splintered remains of the door, he pushed it open, before bending and stepping inside, glancing towards the remains of the kitchen as he did.
Smoke blackened tabletop and counters and a green body, looking battered and crushed, were all he caught sight of, before the hammer slammed in to his jaw, sending him stumbling sideways in to the wall.
"VARIN EDUARDO LUCIEN MARIA AL'THINE WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!" He cringed at the use of his full name, he knew he was in trouble now.
"Gorums balls that hurt..."
"DON'T YOU DARE SWEAR YOU LITTLE TOE-RAG. THE LORD IN IRON KEEPS US SAFE, GODS WILLING!"
"Alright Ma, alright, I am sorry. I stopped in to the Killing Ground to meet up with the Old Man and the others when I got back because I thought you were asleep. Sorry. Then it all kicked off which... I see you know?" He gestured towards the Orc on the table, before risking glancing up at the woman standing over him, threateningly swinging a large wooden hammer back and forth.
Clara al'Thine was an impressive woman, standing at a height of around 5 foot eleven, with shoulders broad and strong from years working in her Cooperage, she was damn near statue-esq. The last five years had been good to her he could see, she was as strong as ever, and shrewder around the eyes, if that was possible. Though she bore a small bruise on one shoulder and her hair seemed to be beginning to grey slightly, she seemed in good health, and for that he said a silent prayer.
"YOU JUST STOPPED FOR A DRINK DID Y... The others returned with you? Wulfrum and those?" She frowned, staring down at her son with an impatient look on her face.
She had always had a soft spot for Wulfrum, the man had taken Varin under his wing when the boy was young and Clara herself had been unable to provide that father like presence the boy so needed. She felt she owed Wulfrum much and to learn the man was back in town and had been beside her boy all night, had eased much of the worry she had felt since learning her baby had been out in the thick of it.
"Well... alright then. You grab that one and drag him outside with the others. I'll strip out the tabletops and the counters while you take whatever they have. It is mine mind you, not yours. It will pay for a new kitchen. The rest of the house is saveable, I've already had Master Kined in here and he has put us second in line for repairs after his own. When you are done I'll make you some porridge and you can eat before bed. Get to it ya layabout!"
He stood up slowly, stretching and cracking his jaw, before walking over to the Orc and heaving it up on to his shoulder. As he made to walk out back, he was stopped by a call from the door.
"It is good to have you back son, you look well. I missed you!"
He smiled, not looking around, as he pushed open the door. "I missed you too Ma. I am glad to be home!" He ducked under the door frame and stepped out in to the back yard.
He rounded the corner and ran head long in to a pile of corpses, piled up to around his chest. He stood there for a moment, scanning the bodies, noting with a growing sense of wonder and fear, that each body bore the tell tale signs of crushed skulls, all from hammer blows. There must have been six or seven of them already there.
"Pharasma be good, that woman is terrifying..." He sighed and added the last Orc to the pile, before beginning to sort through their belongings, the spoils of Clara al'Thine.
_____________________________________________
Race Human
Gender Female
Age A Gentleman wouldn’t ask, if he knew what was good for him, right?
Class Expert Lvl 4 / Fighter 2
Init +; Senses Perception +8, Survival +10
_____________________________________________
BUFFS AND CONSUMABLES
_____________________________________________
_____________________________________________
DEFENSE
_____________________________________________
AC 19, touch 10, flat-footed 19
(+7 Armor, +0 Dex, +2 Shield)
Hp 59 Temp hp []
Fort +4, Ref +1, Will +5
_____________________________________________
OFFENSE
_____________________________________________
Speed
Melee
MWK Barrel Stave (Improvised Warhammer) +9 (1d8+2/x3)
Special Attacks
PA MWK Barrel Stave +7 (1d8+6/x3)
_____________________________________________
STATISTICS
_____________________________________________
Str 14, Dex 10, Con 13, Int 14, Wis 12, Cha 10
Base Atk +5; CMB +8; CMD 18
Feats Power Attack, Weapon Focus (Improvised Warhammer), Catch off Guard, Skill Focus (Profession Cooper), Skill Focus (Sense Motive),
____________________________________________
SKILLS
____________________________________________
Skills
Appraise +9
Bluff +7
Climb +10
Intimidate +7
Knowledge (Engineering) +9
Knowledge (Local) +9
Perception +8
Profession (Cooper) +11
Profession (Soldier) +6
Sense Motive +13
Survival +10
Languages Common, Orc, Giant
____________________________________________
SPECIAL QUALITIES
____________________________________________
SQ
Bravery +1
____________________________________________
EQUIPMENT AND GOLD
____________________________________________
Load
Gear MWK Barrel Stave, Heavily Repaired Splint Mail, Battered Heavy Wooden Shield, Cooper Equipment, Ruined House and Business, One Useless Son, A lifetime of Regrets
____________________________________________
APPEARANCE
_________________________________________
Height 5ft 11
Weight Look here Sunshine you are asking for a boxed ear!
Eye Color Blue
Hair Color Red
Region of Origin Trunau Native
Deity Torag
THE FORGE-
Standing before the ruins of his Masters Forge, Varin felt a pang of anger and regret. Those damn barbarians had destroyed the only two places in town he had had any ties to, and had hurt the two women who had raised him to be the man he was today. He had come to the Forge seeking out the other apprentices he knew would be setting up for a hard days work, doing repairs and starting orders, as their Master healed. He had come to offer his services and aid.
"Do some honest work Varin!" he said, in a perfect imitation of his mothers harsh and chiding tones. "Woman spends the night murdering Orcs, the morning fixing the house and now went to go chase down Halgra to find herself more work to do. By the Gods she is a power house..." he laughed to himself, shaking his head as he walked around the back of the Forge and towards the sounds of hammer on steel, not too far away.
Strolling around the corner in to the ruins of Clamor, Varin waved to a taller than average Dwarven man, who was busily pumping the bellows on a small portable forge. "Hail Denith the Smith, how goes it this day?"
"Torags beard, al'Thine. I had heard you were back in town. What you be doing here lad?" He arched an eyebrow at Varin in an accusatory manner, before continuing, "I woulda thought you would have had the sense to stay gone till Sara was back on her feet and in a good mood!"
He laughed easily and shook his head, pulling his pack around in front of him, and opening the top, to show the Dwarf his tools packed neatly inside, the heaviest hammer he owned swinging from the side of the bag. "No time to wait for a forge fire like that to cool, work to be done and you all could do with the help I wager. Where can I set up? Let me do my bit to get us all up and running again hey?"
The Dwarf frowned, studying the man for a moment, before shrugging and pointing towards an anvil and work bench, on the other side of the makeshift forge. "Halgra wants that stack of weaponry fixed up and in tip top shape by the end of day. Nothing fancy but it is a good place to start. Don't mess up lad, it is more than you or I or anyone here are worth, to mess up something that involves the two scariest women in Trunau!"
Varin grinned and crossed to the pile of weaponry, glancing down, before nodding his head. "Oh aye... I know that well!"
Stripping out of his shirt and sliding the heavy leather apron of his craft on over his head, he grinned as he began to stoke the forge, in anticipation of his first round of heating. As he waited for the temperature to rise, he moved to the barrel of metals and began to search for the right bar with which to begin his repairs.
'It is good to be home!'
Return to the Killing Ground-
Pushing open the door to the Tavern, Varin ducked inside, laying his weaponry in the corner and staring around himself with a sigh. The bar was back to its old self, grubby, loud and disreputable, that is to say. He grinned as he strolled over to the bar, slamming his palm down on the well aged wood, startling some nearby patrons, but not old Rabus.
"Al'Thine, by the gods if you break ANYTHING in here tonight I will gut you like a fish, right?" Turning his back to Varin, he poured a large tankard of ale, before sliding it across the bar to him.
"Don't worry Rabus, I have had my fill of destruction and breaking things for a few days, I'm all focused on repairing and making things right now."
"Oh aye. I heard you went back to Clamor yesterday. Brave man. Just lucky Morninghawk isn't feeling her best. Though I see your mother caught up to you eventually, if I don't mistake that bruise for one of her own!"
Varin grinned sheepishly and nodded, rubbing the darkening purple and yellow patch on his jaw with a slight wince. "I went looking for some healing to settle it right again but nobody would see me, said I deserved what I got. That and my mother had been around before me. Caydens pickled liver was she angry. Barely spoke to me at all..."
"Well you DID fight a huge battle in the streets of your home town, killing many an Orc and battling Giants and weirder, WITHOUT even stopping in to say hello before hand. Bad son you are al'Thine. She must have been worried sick. Calistrias t*&% boy, sometimes you are a moron!" Rabus laughed before turning and walking to the other end of the bar, to serve another patron.
"You can say that again...'
With a sigh, he picked up his mug of ale and saluted the air before him. [i]'For those we lost, Pharasma I pray for mercy on their behalf. For those I sent, consider them a down payment on my own soul. Stay your judgement Lady of the Grave, avert your gaze!' He downed half of the ale before turning around to face the rest of the room, a slow smile spreading across his face.
'And if that don't work, Cailean you old gambler, lend me some of that luck and I'll do your work till the day I die and beyond!'
The Wayward Stroll
Nerak walked through the somewhat ruined town. He had left the others to take care of their own affairs as he had his own. He noted the damage and the dead. His clothing had been restored by way of his magic but his hair and a few soft spots on his skin still itched from the flames that had consumed him earlier. Damnable orcs with their fire obsession, thankfully they normally suffered by it just as often with their unskilled meddling. As he mused on the subject some movement and yells of alarm drew his attention.
"Out of the way, rabid beast!"
Yelled a man stumbling around a corner. A loud and bestial rumbling roar followed with stone and splinting wood as the corner exploded with rubble. His first instinct was to run only something in the back of his mind made him pause. Something large and green fell before him, a clearly dead orc with a pair of deep holes in his chest made it clear as to it's end. A snorting and deep almost purr like sound from the dust cloud before him replaced his edge of fear with strange amusement.
"Easy boys, if you keep running he is just going to keep chasing you. Once he is provoked it's best to let him simmer down. Something about moving targets just keeps him going."
He reaches into his robes and tosses a small carrot. With strange agility for an animal his size the bison snatches it out of the air.
"Enjoying yourself Ranon. Don't tell me you lost my stuff."
With a deep long snort the bison trots forward, easing out of his seeming rampage. His coat holding bits of wood, some the remains of weapons by the looks of it. Apparently the buffalo had joined the battle on it's own at some point. No doubt against the orcs as Ranon hated their smell, often a provocation in itself to the ill tempered animal.
"Well let's clean you up a bit. As for you, stop hiding from him and help me get him into a stable. That shifty manner of yours is what got him to chasing you in the first place I bet. He doesn't like skittish people anymore then orcs. You saw what's left of them huh. Suck it up he's a plant eater after all."
Lorn had snuck up behind the cowering man and promptly slapped him in the back of the head with his little pebbled hand. Causing the man to jump forward in surprise and approach Ranon from the side. Earning him a hard and warning look from the bison but nothing more for the moment.
"Gods have pity when orcs are fought over foul buffalo."
Reunion
After the fighting Beltzer continues to tend to the wounded. He has been in many Ulfen skirmishes but never have hit him as hard as this. He hadn't forgotten the carnage that would befall Trunau but he forgot how unsettling it was. Orcs were ferocious creatures and he could feel that urge sometimes still. Years of communing with spirits and trying to rise above his ‘green’ tendencies has suppressed his worst urges. However still in the back of his mind he thinks.
spirits why don't you grant me the power to destroy as much as save? With each new pace I can create a new stain of…
He shakes his head free of the thought. Calming himself and communing with his life spirit connected through his late elf friend. I should know better than this.
Spirits of battle, weather and bone hover nearby. Beltzer’s mind opening up to more of the spiritual realm others begin to connect with him. Beltzer makes note of what his anger has attracted but does not approach them at this time. Now is the time for rest.
As he stands Silvermane is facing him. Lad, you have changed much since I last saw that face Beltzer stares at him unable to bring up any words or questions about Hopespring. You are far closer to the world than I imagined you'd be, yet you still are young and are to make many mistakes. However lectures are for later. Halgra is waiting for you. Beltzer ponders for a moment, an old saying. do not fear the man who knows 1000 spells but one who has cast one spell 1000 times. Silvermane wasn't berating him but more telling him to learn for next time what should be done.
Beltzer just nods and makes his way back to his old home. The home looks like it has seen better days. The roof has been hit by some debris, one of the walls has a large hole in it. The door is swinging on its hinges as the wind blows. Some of the furniture lies outside to be repaired as they had fallen and broken in the fighting. at least my mother still does not keep pottery around. That stuff would not last a week.
Inside he finds the imposing woman. Despite his height over her she still makes him feel small. Halgra faces the hearth with her head hung low. As she turns Beltzer is about to bring up objections about what happened in the battle again. She just raises her hand. She knows he would object. However he knows there are some decisions that have to be taken where any outcome could have a negative effect. Perhaps Beltzer is still naive, but he is still hopeful for a war won without a blade or magic. No words need be spoken as Halgra approaches, they are both happy to see each other in the end though. Naught needs to be said. What Beltzer has experienced in those years away are clear on his face and exudes from the magic he has learned. Halgra stops a few inches from Beltzer staring at his neck and shoulders, she tilts her head up to look at him then slaps him. Beltzer takes the hit and chuckles, kneeling down a bit so they were face to face before they embraced. All his mother asks is when will you atop growing?
Beltzer was home, truly home, for how long though was another question. With a new threat came a new enemy. One which someone had to fight. Surely Beltzer would not stay and let others deal with it. The temptation was there but he must be a defender of his people. It was in his blood after all.
Arlan stoops to avoid hitting his head on the entrance to the Ramblehouse, navigating his way through the wounded townsfolk and the people tending to them until he finds the one he’s looking for. The woman, cradling a bandaged man’s head while she pours broth slowly into his mouth, looks up and smiles widely. When she’s done with her task she runs to him and hugs him, the top of her head barely reaching the half elf’s neck.
He takes a knee to embrace her and she kisses his cheek, then gives a quizzical look at the red stains on his teeth. Arlan pulls out the shoanti leaf and hands her a pinch that she begins to chew before she wordlessly moves to the kitchen and prepares him some bread and meat. As the moments pass in silence, the soldier chuckles to himself and says softly, All this time I was afraid of what to say to you. Here we are and we aren’t saying anything, he muses between bites.
His diminutive mother smiles knowingly and says simply: I knew you’d be back, before leaving the kitchen and returning to her first aid duties.
After he checks in with his mom, Arlan marches through the ruins of the town towards the smithy, occasionally stopping to snap a few orc tusks of enemy corpses along the way.
You have a shield I can use? A small one, so I can still grab people and snap their necks? Arlan asks . And if you know anyone that can mount these teeth on the edges as a warning to others, that’d suit me.
If you have the money, you can find both. The buckler at the armory owned by Sara Morninghawk. An older local could make you the tool.
Lys shoulders her crossbow and begins making her way towards the northern gate, turning back for one last shout. "SEE YOU AT THE KILLIN' GROUND!" Taking slow steps, she ventured through the battered streets, eyes nervously eyeing the broken town around her. She frowned as her left boot stepped into a stream of mud, water and blood running down the hillside.
"Go f...", she uttered, stopping suddently at the sight of the building of her left. The one story wooden house looked as if it was once the proud work of a sadly amateur craftsman, the roof tilting unnaturally on one side, and the windows uneven. The door was cut and torn off the hinges, bits of wood and loose planks marring the dirty floor.
"Auntie Sal? You here?", said Lys loudly as she stepped through the doorframe, drawing the crossbow in her hands. Maybe she's... somewhere else. Noone would leave an old woman in her house..., she though, taking careful steps on the floor, marked forever by the impressive amount of bird droppings and peck marks. The usual acidic smell was covered by the more overwhelming smell of burned wood covering the entirety of Trunau. Lys sighed, taking a step through the house out the back, proceeding towards the henhouse.
"Wow. Didn't think I'd miss the smell of birdshit...", she said to herself, stopping at the broken body of a black rooster, body covered in dirt, dust and blood. They just stomped on him and left him to die..., Lys thought, before her lips twisted in a sad smile at the sight. "Well, Roo... I guess you really were a lover and a fighter..." Bending down to take the rooster's body, a quiet sound from the henhouse send her jumping in the air, lifting the crossbow towards the door. "Come out! Now!", she said, launching a bolt into the straw wall, loading a second one with a learned move. "Next one isn't going to be in the wall!" A second passed. Then another. Leaving the rooster's body down, she moved towards the door and peeked into the henhouse.
The sight within the henhouse assaulted all Lys' senses. Lys bent in two, hurling all of her stomach's negligible contents towards a bucket nearby, missing completely and landing on her boots.
Laying stretched on the floor were the bodies of dozens of chickens, bones deliberately broken, feathers half-torn from their bodies and covered in excrement and blood. The most gruesome of sights was the body of an old woman, covered in rags. The face and upper body were in a bigger hen cage, linear wounds and broken limbs suggesting that the body was stuffed in there while she was still alive. The splinters of the cage's door showed that the door was forced on the woman's legs, trying to fit her in there, but the door was the first thing that gave way.
, Lys shouted, kicking a hen cage and winning a broken big toe, before breaking in a screaming, roaring shout.
Taking in a deep breath between tears, she leaned on the wall, before hearing the noise once again at shin level directly behind her. Turning her crossbow, she pointed in towards the source of the sound.
A couple of inches from the bolt's steel tip and hundreds of pounds of draw stood a small, puffy, grimy, yellow chick. It chirped.
Wizardry, Alchemy, and Chores
Ranon shuffled besides Nerak as he lead the group of townspeople along. It was not the most usable group for his task but he could understand the lack of supply what with the loss of life and need to restore defenses. Still he would have preferred not to baby sit young boys with barely a year to their hopeknives.
"Keep up or you'll answer to Ranon here."
He gives the bison a pat on the shoulder. They were making their way back to the caves his comrades had found earlier. Their was riches to reclaim and harvest. Such were these people spared to aid him along with a wagon, which Ranon had made clear he would have no part of for some odd reason.
Their first encounter was with the remains of shadow rats that had first swarmed his dwarven friend. Some gave them a wide berth.
"Pick up the rats, their the shadow kind so they could be useful."
One of the young men gave him a disgusted look and spoke.
"Bah what the hells could be useful about black rats!"
Nerak slowly turned his stony face towards the boy.
"They are shadow rats, not black rats. Color not withstanding they have the ability to blend into shadow making them nearly unseen. As well as the ability to become incorporeal which means ghosty to lay man such as yourself. These are both innate abilities of these creatures. Which may be utilized by a skilled crafter or harvester as components in item crafting or enhancing spells. Now as you have clearly volunteered you may collect every last one. Do remember not to forget any parts that may be laying about as well."
The boy was left with an expression between shock and disbelief. No doubt it would become annoyed anger shortly, none the less he would serve. Nerak lead the rest deeper into the caverns. Soon enough a giant rat lies before them with what was left of a hill giant's skeleton.
"You collect the massive rodent and the rest start stripping that skeleton. Leave the bones."
Varin should be happy about getting the giant metal he had wanted earlier. Not that he would forget to charge him a transportation fee, that brought a grin to his face.
Soon enough another body was loaded as was the giant's equipment. He lead the group forward to the main treasure chamber. Before he could hand out assignments for the horde and bodies left behind yet another boy cried out and placed a foot firmly on the dead trolls body, ready to kick it over the edge into the waiting water.
"Oh!"
He lunged at the boy and pulled him back by the shoulder causing him to stumble back, the twitching troll corpse flung a arm atop him causing him to scream as he did everything he could to get away. Nerak grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him up, shaking him hard.
"Get a grip!"
After a moment he did just that.
"The troll is dead. Unless your fool enough to throw a flood troll into moving water. Then their legendary regeneration may be witnessed first hand."
The boy stammered.
"Bu but trolls heal from everything unless you burn them whole."
Nerak gave a sigh, he had a great disdain for false and inaccurate information.
"Look their are more then one kind of troll. Not all are the same. Forest trolls are the most known and common in most cases. This is a flood troll, their regeneration is not in the same league as the forest troll. It is more limited in comparison. As long as they are out of moving water they do not heal. But all trolls have a disturbing ability to survive when their regeneration in not taken into consideration. They have been known to be regrown from as little as a pound of flesh. Which is why I did not let you throw this one in that moving water, it could revive itself."
He gave another sigh before taking a deep breath.
"No one drop any part of the troll into the water. Drain it's blood, it can be used in alchemy to create troll oil and troll styptic. Both useful and needed for the town. After that skin and flesh the troll, keep the bones too."
He shakes his head and starts directing the rest to gather the treasure. Saving some for the other bodies in the chamber.
"The half orc has already been stripped but double check before sending him off to be burned with the rest. As for the pair of dire wolves, skin them as their coats can be salvaged for some good furs. Flesh them and keep their bones as well, some may have a use for them."
The rest of the caves were not very eventful or fruitful. Still someone had to do it. Perhaps he had managed to implant some information in the young ones as well. Swords were useful but a head filled with more then ways how to stick the pointy end of metal or wood into flesh was good too. More so in his book, after all it was not the cave giant or massive skeleton warrior that troubled them the most but rather a half orc with alchemical knowledge.
Wulfrum looks weary and older then he normally did by the time they had made it out of the cave and spoke to the Seargent. When he heard the man's answer he gave a nod and a grunt before stalking off. He passed through the market area, dropping his armor, his shield, and his warhammer off at his station.
Fatigue had already been settling in but rest is for the dead and he worried that taking a rest now may very well end up with death. He pushed on through the night, rounding up all the hounds of the village and prepping them for the hunt. He held the heavy ropes in his hand as he cupped his hand with the locket and hair in it forcing the dogs to each get a very heavy breath of it before he put it away and began working over the town foot by foot.
Night fell away to dawn, dawn to high noon. Wulfrum kept walking with the dogs, pushing them and himself beyond the point of exhaustion. Still he pushed on, only stopping to give the dogs the scent again. He cursed and spit at the ground as he finished a sweep of the town. He knew that it had to be done. He knew that caution was the better option but it didn't make him any less tired, any less angry at the fact that all his work came up to nothing.
He sighed as he pushed himself to make his way back into town but he couldn't hold out any longer. He started to pass by a tree weary and exhausted and stopped putting a hand on it. He took a few breaths and gave up pushing himself to get all the hounds home. He tied them to the tree, exhausted as he was and sat down heavily against the tree. It wasn't long before he passed out sitting up against the tree and not long after before all the dogs ended up falling asleep as well.
Lys left the broken house, and began making her way towards the gatehouse. Midway, something warm and liquid began streaming in her left hand. Turning her eyes towards the small yellow ball responsible, she sighed. "I forgot you did that, you little a%!*$*+s...", before taking the chick in her other hand and rubbing her hand on the nearest wall.
The smoke around her continued rising through the air. The houses around seemed to carry less damage as she continued. Maybe they were more organised at the start, and started getting distracted later on?, she thought, passing by a house door no worse for wear but a couple of axe marks and a torch, tossed in a way, embarrassing even for an amateur pillager.
"My dad always said, it's funny that a dwarf lives in one of the tallest buildings in the town.", she said to the chick. "My mom usually replied that that's not what funny means. We're weird like that.", she continued, patting the little ball on it's head. "It's just around the corner.", she said, walking between two houses' broken roofs.
In front of Lys stood the familiar sight of her house. The portcullis was bent in the middle, a hole big enough for a giant to pass through, and several crude battering rams tossed aside, muddied orc footprints and a line of deeper ones pointed towards the town. "F~%*.", came out of her mouth, seeing the state of the stairs leading towards the house, perched on the wall.
At the foot of the stairs lay a dozen or more orcish corpses, nearly half missing a limb or a head, and nearly all covered with deep cutting marks. One in particular, just outside of the wall was almost intact, save for a ballista bold embedded in his chest and a massive surprise on his stupid, green face. The stairs themselves were covered in blood and guts completely, leaving the attackers having to climb through the slippery innards of the previous attackers. Nononononononooo! Lys began sprinting towards the stairs, slipping and almost falling down on the first one. Grabbing herself to the railing with her right hand, she ran up, shouting. "Mom! Dad!", as she ran through the doorway and barely noticing the tripwire on her rapid change from vertical to horizontal. "Ow!", she shouted, her eyes catching a massive dwarven bearded axe, covered in blood. "My nose!..."
----------
Attached to the axe was a massive calloused hand, seemingly welded to a female dwarf, who looked as if she was built entirely out of red hair, scar tissue and massive, rippling muscles. The dwarf was dressed in seemingly nothing but bandages and wounds, the newest one being a massive gash on her right leg, stretched across the floor. "Lys? That you? Hahaaa!", slurred words came out of Grimrelda Brokenshield, before an axe-free meaty hand grabbed Lys by the shoulder and pulled her into a hug.
"Ribs...Breaking...Can't...Breathe...Help...", words came out of Lys' mouth after being dragged on the ground, as the muscular dwarf choked her in her hold. Letting go after what seemed like three centuries, Lys sat down, rubbing her chest and coughing. "Mom! *cough* The orcs and the giant didn't kill me, but, f+!*, you'll finish me!", she said, letting the chick down from her grasp. "Where'd dad? And...", she said, staring at the massive barbarian and the two kegs next to her, one seemingly empty. ", uh... mum...Why are you naked?", she asked, staring at her parent. "Actually, don't tell me. Ever. Please." The dwarf grinned, blood drops forming towards her broken mouth, showing the newly missing teeth. She picked up the keg, lifting it over her head as if it was a mug, then taking the one of the longest sips Lys ever saw. "Ah. That's f~&+ing better.", the older Brokenshield said, lifting herself on her good leg. "HORST! GET YOUR ASS HERE! THERE'S A SURPRISE FOR YOU!", she shouted viciously, before sitting on the table.
As the shouting ended, the sound of broken glass came from the room nearby. The small frame of a male dwarf climbed through the small door. His head was bandaged all around, leaving a short cropped black beard sticking out over his narrow neck. His leather overalls, covered in vast number of stains, were pulled down by the impressive weight of his toolbelt. In his hands was a screwdriver, gouging deep in a small clockwork device. He sat on the table, not lifting his eyes from his work. "Yes, honey, who is it?", he asked quietly, as a sprocket sprang out from the device.
"Oh, noone, you daft bat, just Lys!", words came out from Grimrelda's mouth, sending a headshake and a smile towards her daughter. "Oh, hey, Lys.", absent-mindedly replied Horst, as the screwdriver turned and the clockwork gears started turning. "Wait, Lys!", he shouted, finally taking his goggled eyes from the gizmo. "Lys! You're back!", he said, giving his daughter a hug. Unfortunately, his head poked behind her shoulder, catching sight of the crossbow. "Ooh! What's that?", he said, his interest considerably more peaked.
Lys sighed, shaking her head with a smile. At least you haven't changed. "Just... put it back after you're done, dad. Have fun.", she replied, handing the crossbow and turning to her mother, giving her dad a loving pat on the back. The small dwarf grabbed the machinery with the smile of a dwarf, grabbing a piece of machinery.
-----------
"So... Elize...", asked her mother. "I don't see my axe anywhere." Lys blushed. "Uh... I may kind of used it to chop wood. It's on my horse." Her father raised his eyes from the crossbow, accidentally discharging a bolt into the ceiling. "Whoops. You have a horse? What's its name?", he asked, before the trigger mechanism caught his attention again.
Lys blushed again. "Riight. Heh. Funny story here. The day after I got the horse, an orcish party was following me for a couple of days. Aaaand the horse wasn't the fastest, so I kept shouting, 'Come on, a#@~&#$.' And after a couple of days, the name sort of stuck." Grimrelda raised her eyebrows, then let out a thunderous laughter. "A horse...*pant*... named A%&*#+!! That's f*%+ing funny! Not like that 'dwarf in tall house' b%!++#@%, Horst!", she teased, smashing her hand on the table, sending mugs flying. The little chick chirped. "And what's with this little yellow pile of lint?", Grimrelda asked, before seeing the look on Lys' face. She nodded, grabbing the girl's shoulder. "It's alright, kid. We'll keep the little bugger here. Don't worry about a thing. Now go f@+*ing sleep! Orcslaying is a hard job, but it pays off well!", she said, slapping her hard on the back.
THE HILL GIANT’S PLEDGE
You receive an invitation from Trunau’s de facto leader, Chief Defender Halgra of the Blackened Blades asking you to join her in the crowded meeting room at the Ivory Hall, Trunau’s government seat. It seems that all of the town leadership (both real and imagined) is here and lots of spectators.
With the information gleaned from captured orc prisoners and the half-orc alchemist, Trunau’s Council of Defenders is worried that the town’s orc troubles are far from over. Thanks to you, the orcs’ hill giant chieftain, Grenseldek, was unable to recover the items she sought from Uskroth’s tomb, and the council fears another attack on Trunau in the near future. To that end, Halgra asks you to go to Grenseldek’s lair— an abandoned outpost near the River Esk called Redlake Fort—and deal with the giant chieftain and her orc tribe before they can attack Trunau again. Halgra believes they are best suited to this task, as Trunau’s militia and citizenry are needed to rebuild the town’s defenses after the Battle of Bloodmarch Hill.
Do you agree?
Already to be sent away, I knew being home for even a brief moment wouldn't happen. Beltzer nods at his mother saying. "I will agree to do this, as I'm sure we all will but I don't speak for my friends though I am sure all want to stop this menace." Leaning down looking at his friends sat huddled close around the table in the Ivory Hall, looking for some assurance from the others.
He turns back towards his mother asking. "Do we have any infromation about this lair other than its location? Are there any none orc settlements on the way or will we be with our own wits and supplies till we get to the fort?" Beltzer then wonders about how many orcs might be there but he doubts anyone would know the exact numbers and it's always best to assume the worst in these cases.
Halgra nods to her son, "Yes, those are good questions. Silvermane and I have already planned your way there. I will answer them when I hear from your friends."
Arlan cracks his knuckles and steps forward. A giantess who stays behind while she sends her army to do her fighting for her? Yeah, I'll go. He smirks, quite pleased with himself.