"Morninghawk," Omast calls to the half-orc smith towering at the edge of the crowd, "gather any extra weapons you may have lying around the forge, and turn any idle hands to crafting crossbow bolts. Staginsdar, if you've any jiggery-pokery in that shop of yours that can be turned to the defense of the town, bring it to the Longhouse and explain how to use it. Any visitors unwilling to bear a siege, get your belongings and get out before sunset; go south if you've a lick of sense in you. Padre," he turns to Marikel, "any healing you've got tucked away in your church, let's see it brought forward for the good of the defenders. Citizens of Trunau, burn, bury, or barricade anything you don't want to fall into the hands of the orcs if worse comes to worst, and keep your Hopeknives sharpened. Miz Kelver," he nods to a pale-looking Brinya, "the children without Hopeknives are your charge; you'll take them into the Longhouse at the sound of the alarm. All guards will be doubled, and the bell will ring at the first sighting of the enemy from the watchtowers."
Vhailor listens gamely to the words that come from Omast's mouth... nodding along for the most part... at least until he gets to the part addressed to Miz Kelver. Keep their hopeknives sharpened... but Brinya needs to 'look after' the children. Surely he doesn't mean that she is to be the children's hopeknife?!? Blinking away at the confusion he unconsciously puts a hand up to reassuringly pat Carbonel as he chances a glance towards the schoolmarm.
Marikel nods in response to Omast's request and looks around for Tyari. He is about to head for her when Omast calls upon Brinya to look after the children without Hopeknives.
"What about the children with Hopeknives?"
He glances to Alicia and looks around her for Ruby.
Leaning in toward the gnome, "Where do ya suppose he wants us?"
Vhailor shrugs and responds "The Longhouse maybe? - difficult to say, you'd think that the orcs will just come and faceplant on the walls... must be something more to it surely. Especially with the delving we've done and the things we've found."
"Any citizen who wishes to defend his or her home and property is free to do so," the dwarf goes on, "but you'll be on your own. If the palisade is breached, the Patrol will fight quarter by quarter until we're pushed back to the Longhouse. If you hope to make it to the Longhouse yourself, I advise you to join us or to stay behind the lines. Trunau forever! Live free or die!"
The answering shout from the crowd is more somber and muted than when they responded to Halgra Blackblade the day she left to ambush the Twisted Nail. Talking intently among themselves, the citizens quickly disperse to make what preparations they can.
Omast beckons Marikel with a crooked finger. "Padre, a word with your lady in your church, if you don't mind?" He makes no objection to any of the party who choose to follow the pair toward Sanctuary.
Unless warded off specifically, Vhailor follows Marikel in a manner not unlike a lost puppy. Whereas Carbonel follows Vhailor in a manner of an owner exasperated by the wayward energy of a lost puppy gone walkabout.
Marikel's shout is easily distinguished from that of the sombre crowd, and his sword is raised to Iomedae above.
Omast beckons Marikel with a crooked finger. "Padre, a word with your lady in your church, if you don't mind?" He makes no objection to any of the party who choose to follow the pair toward Sanctuary.
"Of course," Marikel sheathes his sword, glances to Tyari and heads to the church. A wide sweep of his arm takes in his comrades in silent invitation.
Checking to see where his avian friend is, Dorn then follows the others.
It's the first time Omast has been inside the mission, and he glances around curiously before getting to the point. "Miz Padre, ma'am," he begins, "I'd like to know your intentions."
"Chief Defender?" the priestess replies, with a puzzled frown.
"I've just given folk permission to defend their property," he explains. "Seems only right that includes you. But if you plan to make your stand here in this church, the Lower Quarter will be the first to fall, and the Patrol will be fighting to defend what's left of Trunau up at the Longhouse, far away from the healing magic they'll be needing. On the one side of the stone, everyone's got a right to defend what's his, but on the other, doesn't seem fair to the folk up top to be fighting and dying without that help that you could be providing."
Vhailor listens, but allows Tyari and Marikel to run the discussion with Omast. Offhand and sotto voce he wonders "Wonder if anyone's staying to fight at the Ramble... might be worth moving my stuff out..."
"Of course we'll be helping," Marikel asserts. "The Church of Iomedae is built on people, not things. We'll move everything you need up to the Longhouse and abandon Sanctuary."
He glances to Tyari for affirmation and mutters, "Apparently Sanctuary could use a new paint job anyway."
Tyari stifles a smile of amusement before confirming Marikel's words. "I would be honored to stay on the front lines and retreat with the brave men and women of the Patrol, should it come to that, Inheritor forbid. I think that moving what stockpiles of healing supplies we can muster up to the Longhouse ahead of the arrival of the attackers would be a wise move as well. I presume there will be no shortage of volunteers to serve as runners to deliver them where they may be needed, and we certainly don't wish to risk letting them fall into the hands of the enemy should the Lower Quarter be overrun."
The dwarf gives a nod of satisfaction. "Pleased to hear you say so, ma'am. If you need any help in moving anything of value to a safer place, just send word and I'll be happy to have the Patrol assist you. And if ... when we turn the tide and Halgra's back in town, rest assured I'll let her know how amenable you've been."
Alicia sticks close to Marikel, the scowl on her face still apparent.
"That's not necessary, Chief Defender," Tyari demurs. "We're here to do our part. We'll be honored to fight alongside the people of Trunau."
"Same goes for all of you," the dwarf goes on, giving the others a nod as he prepares to take his leave. "If you want to move your belongings up to the Longhouse, we'll make space for them. Not that I'm saying this place is sure to burn, but the Longhouse is made of stone and a lot farther from the main gates."
Vhailor purses his lips as he considers the dwarf's words, wondering what effect it might have on morale for those huddled in the Longhouse as their houses and businesses burned... but he keeps that internal to his muddled mind. He probably knows loads more than me when it comes to this sort of thing anyway.
"We'll get started right away, sir. I assume the searches of the tunnels turned up nothing else? And if there's anything you need, you have only to ask. We're all at your command."
"Are we sure we found all of that explodey powder?"
"I assume the searches of the tunnels turned up nothing else?"
Omast rubs his nose thoughtfully. "We haven't had the time nor the manpower to search every tunnel in this honeycomb of a hill," he admits, "but we found nothing else in the tunnel where the Grath boy died. From what we were able to get out of them, we believe the so-called mining operation was a blind to get folk to work on their back way up the cliff. Those half-orcs thought they'd be getting rich quick on the Sawyers' left-behind ore ... as if there's been a Sawyer born yet that wouldn't cut the gold teeth out of their grandpappy's corpse before leaving a coin in the ground that could be in their pockets. At least we can be thankful that we found what they were up to. Any of those Twisted Nail savages that think they'll be sneaking up to our very back door will have a surprise in store for them."
If the days before Kaleb's arrival were thick with tension, those immediately following are heavy with a grim resignation. Within a few hours of the halfling's report, most visitors still in town are filing out the front gates, heading for home or at least a safer haven. The rooms at the Ramblehouse, however, aren't left vacant but are being prepared for new inhabitants: the families of Trunau's outlying farms. Messengers were sent immediately upon the convening of the Council of Defenders to warn the farmers of the imminent danger and instruct them to prepare their properties as best they can and evacuate behind the palisade.
All over Bloodmarch Hill, people are sorting through their homes and secreting valuables: in pockets or bags to carry with them or, in the case of larger or heavier items, in the rocky ground or iron chests and strongboxes. There are rumors that Lessie Crumkin has a vast underground vault beneath her home, or even a magical extradimensional space, to safeguard her valuable collectibles. When the farm families begin to arrive, they come leading cows, pigs, goats, sheep, and hens and carting bags of seed to assure a crop come the growing season; Trunau begins to assume the character of a livestock market, the air split with animal calls and the streets pockmarked with droppings as the farmers desperately barter with the Patrol and against each other for the stabling space left empty by the horses and mules that carried Halgra's expedition.
At That'n'Such, Jess Meeson supervises Gorkis as he digs holes in which to bury her precious salvage. His alchemical equipment has already been moved to the Upper Quarter for use in combating the attackers, as has Tyari Varvatos's healing supplies. The Killin' Ground does steady if subdued business, its patrons seeking a buck-up of liquid courage more than the rollicking good time usually on offer. "Better you drink it than the damn Twisted Nail," Rabus reassures his customers. "Whatever's left, I'll save for an all-night party when we've sent the bastards running." Only Clamor's routine continues at anything close to normal, as Sara Morninghawk keeps her smiths working turning out bolts for crossbows and the Patrol's ballistas.
"Zola Sawyer wasn't in school today," Ruby informs the other inhabitants of Sanctuary one evening. They are eating a cold supper with their bags packed and ready by the door, in case the alarm sounds. "Some of the girls said her father paid someone to take her across the border to Lastwall before the orcs got here so she'd be safe."
Alicia snorts. "That doesn't surprise me," she remarks, between bites of cold food. "I'd say I'm surprised that the councilor hadn't left too, but I'm pretty sure he's looking for a way to work this mess to his benefit somehow, even now."
"All good parents wish to protect their children," Tyari reasons. "We shouldn't judge Councilor Sawyer harshly because he uses the resources he has to keep his daughter from danger."
Over at the Ramblehouse, where Dorn and Vhailor are eating in the increasingly-crowded common room, Cham Larringfass has heard similar rumors and regales her guests with them.
"Baseil Sawyer hired someone to take his daughter out of town. No, she has her Hopeknife; he just doesn't want to risk her having to use it! It's for ordinary folk to defend the town, I suppose," she sniffs. "I hear tell he sent all his valuables away with her as well so she's not left a pauper if the orcs overrun us all."
"They say the Crumkin house has a portal to a whole other dimension in the basement where Lessie stores her wealth and if the Twisted Nail make it to the Upper Quarter she has only to hop through herself and shut the door behind her to be safe as houses. I suppose we won't be seeing her in the Longhouse."
"I hear tell that Gorkis Meeson and Rabus Clarenston have rigged up a mechanism with his black powder and his moonshine to blow the orcs halfway to Isger if they reach the Longhouse. I say we'll be lucky if the pair of them don't blow all of us to the Boneyard by accident instead!"
Alicia snorts. "That doesn't surprise me," she remarks, between bites of cold food. "I'd say I'm surprised that the councilor hadn't left too, but I'm pretty sure he's looking for a way to work this mess to his benefit somehow, even now."
Marikel leans over and whispers to Alicia.
"I'm surprised you weren't aware of it already. I thought you were still spying on him while we've been hauling supplies back and forth to the Longhouse."
As the halfling finishes speaking, Dorn leans over near Vhailor, keeping his voice low. "Any idea if this town has ever been attacked by the orcs before, friend? Lot of doom and gloom between this lot. And the way they gossip about each other, it almost makes ya wonder who's on who's side." He shrugs.
Pushing his lensless glasses back up the bridge of his nose Vhailor shrugs "I'd assume they have... haven't been here long enough to find out. Suppose living next to packs of orcs would make most err on the side of gloom or doom..."
Pondering that a moment before nodding in agreement, "Fair point. Well, they're still here so I guess the good news is they succeeded. And they'll succeed this time too; especially since they've got us," he says with a nudge and a wink, grinning. "Those blasted orcs don't stand a chance, me friend."
The gnome smiles blithely, sharing a wink with the more robust and capable dwarf. At the least it should be interesting...
Alicia gives Marikel a shifty-eyed look. "I was...busy."
It is a restless night in Trunau. Several citizens, determined that no one should know where their valuables are being secreted, wait for cover of darkness before sneaking out to hide them; when their stealthy movement is seen from the watchtowers, Patrol teams are sent out to verify their identity, and more than one family is awakened by a ruckus outside their windows they are sure must be invading orcs before the truth of the situation is revealed. Brawls break out in a few places, as citizens believe they are being robbed or their hiding places discovered, and many greet the sunrise after a night of troubled or broken sleep and with a sense of suspicion or paranoia. In response, the Council of Defenders imposes a curfew on civilians, insisting everyone but the Patrol must be inside from sunset to sunrise, unless the alarm bell sounds.
Vhailor keeps a low-ish profile, concerned a bit more with reading and establishing where Carbonel slinks off to when he's not looking. Nightfall comes with his questioning mind inquiring of Dorn where he keeps his large feathered friend of a night, and exactly what sort of treats the roc gets fed... outside of that he's puppydog loyal and obedient to Marikel's thoughts and instructions.
"He stays pretty much wherever he wants; but mostly he keeps to the trees at night. And I mostly feed 'im some of me jerky as a treat. Boy he likes the dried jerky. If I don't watch it, he'll try ta eat it all! I've actually caught 'im with his nose in the back of me pack before and had ta shoo 'im off, the crazy bird," he chuckles at the thought. "Needless ta say, I've got ta keep the jerky on hand or he gets a might cranky," he says with an emphatic nod, grinning. "So how long have ya had your cat friend? He doesn't demand the jerky from you too, does he? Or is it a she?"
Casting an eye to his shoulder where the furry companion questioned has rejoined him, yawning languidly before settling a cock-eyed quizzical gaze upon the gnome, Vhailor shrugs "Not sure yet if it's me that has him or him that has me... wasn't always me and him though, it's only of late. Ever since Carbonel's master went off and got himself most likely dead." pondering a moment that might be taken for reminisce "Definitely a he though... and I guess he takes care of his own food... I think... belly rubs on the other hand"
Marikel awakens early, prays hard and reports for duty, banging on Alicia's door as he goes past.
"Good morning. Wake up. Plenty of work still to be done."
Casting an eye to his shoulder where the furry companion questioned has rejoined him, yawning languidly before settling a cock-eyed quizzical gaze upon the gnome, Vhailor shrugs "Not sure yet if it's me that has him or him that has me... wasn't always me and him though, it's only of late. Ever since Carbonel's master went off and got himself most likely dead." pondering a moment that might be taken for reminisce "Definitely a he though... and I guess he takes care of his own food... I think... belly rubs on the other hand"
Dorn chuckles. "Animals. They are a crazy lot," he says with a grin, shaking his head.
Alicia groans, rolls out of bed, and slowly prepares for the day. With a glance at Ruby, she heads out the door and makes her way for wherever she thinks Marikel has gone, a proverbial stormcloud over her head.
The weather turns ugly along with the mood in the town, dark storm clouds sullen with lightning clotting along the horizon and slowly spreading like a bruise across the sky toward Bloodmarch Hill. The town is crowded with the addition of the farmers' families and animals, tempers are short, and arguments break out at the slightest provocation. The Patrol is stretched thin; with extra guards along the wall and atop the watchtowers, they have neither the manpower nor the patience to deal with domestic squabbles.
By early afternoon, the first fat raindrops are beginning to fall in Trunau, and thunder, though still distant, to contribute a discontented rumble behind the barnyard calls and the everpresent ring of metal on metal from the smiths inside Clamor. A new sound begins to make itself known, a discontented uproar, from the Inner Quarter: shouting voices, with more than a little slur to them which suggests their owners' recent custom at The Killin' Ground, some sharp thwacks, and finally the crack and rattle of breaking glass.
Marikel stops his return journey to Sanctuary and looks across to the Inner Quarter. He briefly rests his fingers against his temples, before dusting himself down and heading over towards the disturbance with a distinct scowl.
As Dorn strolls through town, his attention quickly turns in the direction of the disturbance. "What the blazes was that? REAVER!" he yells, looking up and around. "Where is that blasted bird? Ya know, if he'd just learn ta keep up...," he shakes his head and heads toward the noise.
Cocking his head to one side Vhailor's first thought is Banny?, but he trails along with the others, staff in hand and feline companion upon shoulder. With his free hand he pats upon his pockets, assuring himself that his wands are readily to hand.
The disturbance is located just inside the Inner Gate. A surly crowd is gathered on the road opposite the Howling Hound, and a standoff appears to be occurring between them and Othdan Meriman, who is standing in the half-open front door, either using it as a shield, defiantly barring entry, or a little of both as circumstances warrant. A second-floor window has been freshly broken, apparently by a thrown rock, and a half-orc face is peering quizzically out.
Alicia follows after Marikel dutifully, her perpetual scowl still evident.
Noticing the scene, Dorn quickly moves over to the crowd as he cuts his eyes between the crowd and the man defending himself. "Hold!" he yells toward the crowd, "What the blazes is goin' on here? What are ya doin'... fightin'?! Ya got an army of orcs headed this way and you lot are attackin' this man and his...," he looks upon the building a moment, unsure of what to call it before simply deciding to go with, "home?! You ought ta be ashamed of yourselves! Why would ya do such a thing?"
Marikel marches up beside Dorn and crosses his arms expectantly.
Dorn's intervention seems to divide the crowd.
"Another outsider!" one man shouts scornfully. "Of course he's on their side! He's probably one of them! Go home, dwarf! Leave Trunau to true Trunauans if you know what's good for you!"
Some of the crowd join in turning their aggression toward Dorn, but others seem unconvinced. "I ain't never heard of a dwarf working with orcs." "Are you saying we can't trust Omast Frum, Foster? Because you're a damn fool if you are!" "Aye, we'll be glad to have another dwarf on our side when the orcs arrive."