All of hell? So the prince is a religious figure, this man is devout. But do we really all live as we desire?[/b] Grok stands for a moment, contemplating these philosophical questions in his moment's peace, eyes darting about for foes around the houses. He keeps his back to the well, so that he cannot be flanked, and holds an arrow akwardly between the middle two fingers of his right hand.
Grok looks back at Zove, seeing her words at the thoroughly broken Angrit, he shakes his head slightly. [i]Stand. Stand up, we've got a fight to get to. Stand. Come on, let's see what you're worth. Battle's not started yet. Not for us. Grok's voice is low and loud; he is still breathing hard. We're just slaughtering a few stragglers. Tell me, Angrit, when was the last time you had such a good shot at vengeance? There must be something you can do, grieve later. Trust me, Grok's brows furrow heavily for a moment, it doesn't hurt as much if you're afraid of death.
Cromwin will wait, nervously glancing about, his shield and warhammer ready while Davian heals Zove in case another attacker shows himself. Once he finishes healing Zove, Cromwin will ask "Is Sara going to make it it? Can the wand help her as well? We have to get moving, and fast."
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@Grok.....
You are by the body of what looks like a one of Tranuau's priests, slumped dead over the well. Around you the dead humans and orcs lie in agonizing deaths, bought on by the battle for the inner quarter.
The path to the lower town nd the Hopespring Beacon is barrd by thick greenish smoke and 3 burning trees. A couple of shadows, probably animals of some sort are seen moving through the edges of the smoke before retreating.
To the right there are houses that are still intact, the direction that the half-orc ran. The houses show no signs of life, they are dark, with broken windows, doors smashed or just hanging by their hinges. Between the houses the way is darker or even black as the light from the fires struggles against the all pervading darkness of night.
Behind them the Eastern Lookout Tower stands, from where the sound of a beating drum is heard, steady, rhythmic, a sound of war.
To the left is one of Tranau's favorite drinking establishments, 'The Killin' Ground', noted for its moonshine. The tented establishment is unusual for its method of cleaning its floor, the sides of the tent do not reach the ground, allowing rain water to flow over the ground.
Grok Rnd =11
Others Rnd=13
Things Rnd=9
Who are you? Tell us who's hiding there now! Grok calls, listening intently for a response. He raises his bow and half draws it, pointing at the smoke. He does not step forward, waiting for Cromwin to back him up.
Grok stands grumbling to himself, but does not budge, not willing to be caught and flanked too far away from his companions. Well, that's not good, some wheezing dog ready to attack whoever comes near. No time to try to help it, Grok's voice gets slightly louder, if you want to fight me, go ahead.
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Grok hears something going on in the Killin' Ground, sounds a bit like a heated discussion in gruff and harsh tones.
"I tell you if there'sh anyone there, the othersh will find em. Wesh don't have to bother!"
"Lesh be ready in casesh"
"Yoush don't need to worry, theresh plenty coming."
"She will live, so long as I bless her the same as I had Zove...."
Davian puts a hand to Sara's chest with a heavy sight as he murmurs over her "Stay with us. The Prince has other plans for you all... I can feel it."
Hmm...sounds like they're drunk, and speaking common. By the words they might be orcs. Might be a dialectal difference. Might be looters, might be townsfolk, but they're not in a hurry. Grok glances back for a moment, Davian lifting Sara, Zove moving forward.
Keep an eye on the tent, Grok says over his shoulder, indicating the Killin' Ground, there are some drunks inside. With that, Grok steps forward.
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As Grok moves forward, there is a slight sound to his right, whizzing sound of something flying through the air. Grok looks around to see two arrows flying towards him, he skillfully avoids the first which scrapes off his shoulder, but the second is unavoidable, finding a weak spot in his chain, piercing Grok's flesh and drawing blood.
From out of the dark over the rubble of a half ruined house, comes ...
Left Orc with falchion
Right Half-Orc with scimitar
Other 2 orcs with short bows.
The half-orc with the orcs points at Grok and speaks.
"I told you there are traitors in our midst, that one helped the palefaces when they overwhelmed us. Take him now."
"Let us take him now."
Cromwim looks around for Grok, spying him just as he is struck by arrows flying out from some hidden location. Cromwin curses under his breath and runs towards Grok as fast as he can in his armor. Ug, this much metal is so heavy. I need Anvil for mobility. Hold on Grok, I'm coming!
As he whips his body backward Grok falls into a low stance raising his bow and drawing his arrow, he fires in rapid succession at the orc with the falchion.
Four, two bows between them. Would rather charge after we dispatch the swordsmen. Grok lets go of his bow with his left hand, finding the comforting weight of the shield with a flick of the wrist, he takes a step back.
Davian escorts the two strangers to the station, wiping sweat from his forehead, mace now in hand. "Remain here." He ensures Sara is well enough to be left alone, and then begins to stalk back towards this group of warriors that had just happened upon him.
"I see.... This might be just what I was looking for. I wonder when the last time is, that I've actually ran...."
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Two arrows strike the orc, but it doesn't stop the ferocious creature from charging at Grok the archer, striking with all its force. Bringing it's fachion down smashing through Grok's armor and drawing blood from its deadly foe. . The effort of the attack takes its toll on the green skinned foe, as it crumbles in front of Grok bleeding on the floor.
Two arrows fly past Zove's as the other combatant charges at the new tin man, striking Cromwin's armor to no avail. The two orc archers move back into the rubble of the buildings.
Cromwin steps in front of Zove, then takes a defensive stance and strikes at the half orc on front of him, landing a solid blow.
Grok grunts in pain, the heavy blade of the falchion and the thick arms of the orc managing somehow to cut through his mail, Grok is almost knocked down. He manages, however, to catch the sword with his shield before it cuts him deeply, and he pushes forward into the charging man, and, finding the arrows sufficient, draws his sword, simultaneously sheathing his shield. Grok's feet go wide and he swings his sword in a wicked arc, cleaving flesh and bone.
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Grok fatally wounds the remaining green-skinned enemy, whose strength deserts him in a splattering of blood and bone. He feebly swings his sword, as he falls dead to the ground. The two remaining archers, look on as they see their companions fall and let loose arrows which fly harmlessly over Grok and Cromwin. Their aim, put off by the crumbling half-orc that falls, as they retreat further towards safety of the deserted buildings.
They're too far back, we need to be careful, Grok says, picking up his bow and running forward, taking cover behind a house. Follow me, if they keep running I'll shoot and you can flank, if they stand we can butcher them
"I am glad I could make it back..... You there- what is the situation?" Davian looks to Grok for direction as he runs past, brandishing his heavy mace in hand.
Cromwin comes tromping through as quickly as he can in armor. "I'm on it! Follow at a distance and shoot, if we get ambushed we'll turn on them."
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Zove's dagger flies from her hand up to the pitch of the roof, where it dislodges a couple of tiles which fall on the orc by the door, smashing onto his head and causing a deal of blood to spurt from its forehead. The clatter of tiles turns the second orc's head, just as he let's fly an arrow, which flies high and wide of Zove. The orcs open the door to the house and disappear inside.
The sound of the beating drum reverberates around the houses, louder and louder. The houses look deserted, the windows shuttered, some doors closed others open and hanging off their hinges. The shadows are long and dark where the glow from the fire cannot penetrate through the buildings.
Here quick, inside, I hear others.
There are sounds coming from inside the building.
Well, we can certainly burn them. Might take a while though, in my experience you need some time to set up sneaky like, and that beacon isn't going to light up without our help. While Grok speaks he withdraws several large flasks of oil from his own pack, holding one out to Davian. We can move around fast enough, and they can't tell where we are, I think it's a good idea to leave them for a moment and achieve our objective. Grok eyes the long path to the beacon, flanked half the way by dim houses which might hold anything.
Be a bit risky.
"I'm not leaving archers behind to take shots at us while we move forward, and we don't have time to burn them out. I'm going in after them, follow me!"
Cromwin will try the door, then try to force it if it is locked or blockaded.
Davian grins as he follows in behind Cromwin "Bravery... That is good. I think I'll follow you all for a while, then." He kisses his silver pendant and wraps it around his mace "It's been some time since I've thrown you, Ihys."
Cromwin pauses after kicking down the door, balking at pursuing the orcs into the darkness. This day is going from bad to worse. I left my torch in my saddlebags.
"Zove, Davian, do either of you have a torch or something for light? Do you still have that lantern Zove?"
Cromwin continues to face into the building, keeping his shield up in case arrows come flying out of the darkness.
They'd closed the door...oh well. Grok puts the lamp oil away, pulling out his wand and taking a step forward as he does. Grok's eyes close a moment and he pulses with light, his wounds closing somewhat.
I think they hate me especially, since their efforts have mostly been directed at me. I'll follow right behind you.
"I apologize- I do not have many things on me, and that is one of them. Then again.... I do not normally find myself stalking things in the dark. These orcs seem..... clever."