Lioslan nodded to Argentia, but his attention was on the weak humans who could not flee their burning tents. Sheathing his sword, he hurried to check the flaming tents for survivors that needed rescue, waving for anyone nearby to aid him in helping whoever he might find.
"If the deputy mayor had allowed these people inside the palisades, they would still be alive," he noted, passing several of the dead. To leave his own kind to the orcs, he must be less, even, than they.
Ulciscor took a moment to mark as many of the retreating orcs as he could - those with obviously identifying features, at least. It didn't take long, as the enemy were fleeing, and the smoke of the burning tents obscured much of what was visible. He sighed, and turned to Argentia.
"Do we know what tribes these were? And can we be of help in putting out these fires? I can summon water, if it will help."
Even before Argentia could answer, Ulciscor saw Lioslan moving amongst the burning tents, injured, and dead. Without waiting to be called, he beckoned to Innocent, and went to help.
"If the deputy mayor had allowed these people inside the palisades, they would still be alive."
"We do not know this," Ulciscor said, between summonings of water to beat back flames, "it is possible that this many people inside of the walls would have caused famine, or plague. And too many inside the walls may have prevented rapid movement of the defenders - people like us - and left the town vulnerable to flame, rather than just the tents." Ulicscor's tone was calm - and calming. Still, his face was grim. If the deputy mayor was shirking his duties, Ulciscor had no doubt that the man would pay for it.
"If the deputy mayor had allowed these people inside the palisades, they would still be alive," he noted, passing several of the dead. To leave his own kind to the orcs, he must be less, even, than they.
Kevkas laughs, not at Lioslan's comment, but at the backs of the fleeing orcs. "And if those orcs had stayed, they'd be dead!" "Gruumsh takes it from behind from Bast with Sylvanus's c--k, you sons of whores!", he yells in orcish as they run away.
The huge half-orc seems in fine spirits, in spite of the dead and dying around them. He nods at Ulcisor. "What else can they expect? If they won't defend themselves, they'll die from something anyway- fire, disease, hunger, something. They weren't strong enough to take up spears and defend themselves and they died in their beds. I guarantee you that if this was an orc village, every man, woman, and child strong enough to pick up a pointy stick would've been out here fighting the invaders." The Tempan shrugs. "Maybe they'll have a better life in whatever afterlife their gods take them to."
And with that profoundly unsympathetic comment, he goes and starts to poke around the dead orc warriors' and archers' things, looking for anything useful.
While Lioslan and Ulciscor debate the finer points of the deputy mayor's culpability in the deaths of these locals, Innocent admires his handiwork, staring into the lifeless eyes of the orc sorceror's disembodied head. He cleans the blood from his blade, resheathes it, and positions himself so that his heel is lightly touching the fingers of the fallen orc. In a moment, he applies pressure with his heel, listening to the phallanges pop and crack until Ulciscor beckons him.
Innocent gives him a look as though to say, what is there left to kill?
The priest need offer no further convincing, however, when he belatedly recognizes the carnage surrounding them that Kevkas advertises with bluster. The blackguard has nothing to offer on the point of contention. It is true that had the people been trained for war from birth, they would have still died, but died in "glorious" battle. But Innocent knew that this truth meant nothing to the dead or the ones they leave behind.
Under Ulciscor's direction, Innocent puts in trying to help pick up the broken pieces of these broken lives like so many broken fingers under his black boots. He focuses especially on asking pointed questions:
"What was his/her name?" in reference to the deceased.
"Do you desire justice for him/her?" Tacit, unflowery, but he had listened to Ulciscor enough to make the basic pitch.
If he receives any names for his friend's book, he gathers them and delivers them dutifully.
"If the deputy mayor had allowed these people inside the palisades, they would still be alive.""We do not know this," Ulciscor said, between summonings of water to beat back flames, "it is possible that this many people inside of the walls would have caused famine, or plague. And too many inside the walls may have prevented rapid movement of the defenders - people like us - and left the town vulnerable to flame, rather than just the tents." Ulicscor's tone was calm - and calming. Still, his face was grim. If the deputy mayor was shirking his duties, Ulciscor had no doubt that the man would pay for it.
Lioslan gave Ulciscor a measuring stare, but acknowledged his disagreement with a nod as he beat at fires with his blanket. "You make a fair point. The defenders would be hindered in their tasks by the press and panic, perhaps. However, I do not see how possible disease or starvation weighs against the immediacy of defense against an orc raid. If eventual death were the concern, none of you should bother with any defense... No offense intended."
Dorn listens to the others and rolls his eyes as he searches for survivors. Finally he can't hold back.
"Gond's grinding gears, what is wrong with you people? These folk were just looking for a place to stay. There's no wrong in that. There is however, plenty wrong with a mayor acting like a twit and leaving them to die beyond their walls. That is no way for the mayor of -- of -- bloody hell, what IS this place called again?!"
Dorn scoffs.
"You know what, that's beside the point. The point is that this is wrong. No one deserves this."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Argentia sighs. Malfell is the deputy mayor ... but he was not alone in wanting to keep the refugees outside. We have only limited resources. As much as some of us may have wished to help them, there was an even larger number who felt they attracted danger. She looks down at the corpse of an Orc. They may have been right. Bloody arrow tribe. The young warden looks up at the overcast sky. It's not bright out, but still a bold raid on their part.
Volunteers - a surprising number - have started coming out from the gates to help put out fires and assist survivors. The young gypsy dancer and her two companions nod in respect to the members of your party as they make their way through the gate. Vanessa, the barmaid, had been bringing out buckets of water, but quickly intercepts the young gypsy beauty with a passionate kiss, followed by a tight embrace.
Argentia smiles, but it is all too brief as she comes upon an unconscious Orc. Did you ... did you mean to not kill these two? What are you doing?
Ulciscor looked at Dorn, then Lioslan.
"You both speak as if the deputy mayor knew this raid was coming, and as though he had responsibility for these people. If his charter is to see to the safety of the town's inhabitants, and if letting these people into the town would have endangered those over whom he has responsibility - whether by risking that the gates could not be closed in time, or that there was a traitor in the midst, or that the crowds would eat more food than the town has in storage, or even that some of the refugees would break into the homes of those who have gone to the mines, because 'they don't need this house right now, and I do,' any of these reasons, or a hundred others - would see him violating the trust that has been placed upon him by those whom he is duty-bound to serve and protect." He shrugged, his tone still easy.
"Very few people deserve to be slaughtered by orcs. Poor, hungry people who've lost everything to the predations of evil creatures least amongst them. This is why I am taking names. Quite likely, this is the reason Innocent and I were called to this place, at this time. And if it turns out that the deputy mayor's charter does, in fact, require him to provide shelter to those in the areas surrounding the town, then he has violated his oath, and will be deserving of his fate. But huddling outside a town that has made it clear that they're not letting in refugees is not the wisest course, either. Had these people traveled down the road, to Waterdeep, they would not have been here to be slaughtered."
Ulciscor looked over the battlefield that had been a refugee camp, and his face was grim, though his voice remained even in tone.
"I do not say that this should have happened, nor that the fallen are deserving of - or to be blamed for - their fate this day. I merely point out that the situation may well be more complicated than you seem to give it credit for. In fact, I suspect that those who are to be blamed for all of this are nowhere near this place today. Someone chose to go somewhere, or do something, that roused the anger of the Orcs. The Orcs chose to bring bloody battle to these people in response. And poor folk - as they so often do - have paid the price of others' foolishness, ambition, or greed."
"But do not be over worried. We will set things aright. The Doombringer will see to it."
Ulciscor looked to the Argentia. "Felling the foe was the first priority. Alive or dead did not matter, so long as they were out of the fight. As it is, perhaps these two can provide some answers. With the proper persuasion."
"Admittedly, I don't know much about Orcs. But I think it's pretty common knowledge that they don't often need a reason to attack a camp. If anything, history suggests that the opposite is true."
Dorn sighed.
"Still, point taken. This band seemed a bit too organized to not be up to some mischief. I mean, they brought spell casters. I'm given to understand that's a bit rare among their people."
Dorn walks inside with the others, his scowl lessens when he sees the other townsfolk coming to aid the refugees.
"That's more like it," he says softly.
His frown increases when he doesn't immediately notice the mayor.
"You both speak as if the deputy mayor knew this raid was coming, and as though he had responsibility for these people. If his charter is to see to the safety of the town's inhabitants, and if letting these people into the town would have endangered those over whom he has responsibility - whether by risking that the gates could not be closed in time, or that there was a traitor in the midst, or that the crowds would eat more food than the town has in storage, or even that some of the refugees would break into the homes of those who have gone to the mines, because 'they don't need this house right now, and I do,' any of these reasons, or a hundred others - would see him violating the trust that has been placed upon him by those whom he is duty-bound to serve and protect." He shrugged, his tone still easy.
"Very few people deserve to be slaughtered by orcs. Poor, hungry people who've lost everything to the predations of evil creatures least amongst them. This is why I am taking names. Quite likely, this is the reason Innocent and I were called to this place, at this time. And if it turns out that the deputy mayor's charter does, in fact, require him to provide shelter to those in the areas surrounding the town, then he has violated his oath, and will be deserving of his fate. But huddling outside a town that has made it clear that they're not letting in refugees is not the wisest course, either. Had these people traveled down the road, to Waterdeep, they would not have been here to be slaughtered."
Ulciscor looked over the battlefield that had been a refugee camp, and his face was grim, though his voice remained even in tone.
"I do not say that this should have happened, nor that the fallen are deserving of - or to be blamed for - their fate this day. I merely point out that the situation may well be more complicated than you seem to give it credit for. In fact, I suspect that those who are to be blamed for all of this are nowhere near this place today. Someone chose to go somewhere, or do something, that roused the anger of the Orcs. The Orcs chose to bring bloody battle to these people in response. And poor folk - as they so often do - have paid the price of others' foolishness, ambition, or greed."
"But do not be over worried. We will set things aright. The Doombringer will see to it."
"You speak of a situation more complex, but to my eyes it seems simple," Lioslan said, beating vigorously at the flames of a tent. "All good people should stand to protect their kind, be it from orcs, starvation, crime, or any number of other ills. Were more to do so, fewer ills would exist. Were every elf in the Realms to stand starving and homeless upon Evermeet on this day, they would not be turned away."
"I do not know your god very well, priest, but I find that things are most frequently set aright by the efforts of mortals upon this world," he added with a smile. "Perhaps you would say that the gods help those who help themselves."
"Admittedly, I don't know much about Orcs. But I think it's pretty common knowledge that they don't often need a reason to attack a camp. If anything, history suggests that the opposite is true."
Dorn sighed.
"Still, point taken. This band seemed a bit too organized to not be up to some mischief. I mean, they brought spell casters. I'm given to understand that's a bit rare among their people."
"Not so rare as I'd like. As you say, they need little provocation to mount raids on more civilized peoples. This small raiding party, should we follow it, might lead us to the main grouping of orcs, and allow us an idea of what we are up against."
Dropping the charred and smoky blanket, he approached Argentia and the fallen orcs. "A bit of intelligence might be had from these as well, strange as the notion sounds. Let us bind them, and then offer them a clean death in return for what knowledge they have."
Argentia shakes her head. You're not going to get good information from an Orc. At best, he'll threaten to rape you - yes, you men as well - before biting off his own tongue and bleeding to death. And, if you mean to torture them... she shakes her head again, looking away for a moment, ...don't do it in sight of the town. There are many who won't tolerate such actions, even against Orcs.
"Torture is beneath us - all of us, I should hope," Lioslan sniffed. "But there is one among us who may potentially hold the key to these orcs' knowledge. Dorn Kindleheart, have you the magic to charm these orcs into believing you are their friend? If not, and if Argentia is correct in her surmise of their attitude, perhaps it is better to end them now, and pursue the stragglers of the raiding party."
"Jes' smash their bleedin' heads in an' be done with th'lot." Dargrim growls out casually, plodding his way over to the orcs yet disabled by Dorn's dweomer. "Cannae afford t'feed em, even were we addled enough t'fathom it. It be more 'an th'ugly bastards deserve fer all o' this. An' after we've caved in skulls one an' all, let's point our ire at what needs pointed at t'save them diggers what need savin', aye?"
Awaiting no permission or reaction, Dargrim's earthbreaker swings hard into a motionless orc's head, adding a little more gore to the already gruesome battle site. He isn't wearing a grin as he performs the motion, his eyes hard and jaw set in a look that conveys solemn necessity. Dispatching a disabled foe isn't a prospect he enjoys, but he reckons it needs doing. "Probably best we away an' soon. I'd as soon throttle th'cowardly old codger as look at 'is stupid face." Dargrim's gaze wanders to the palisade wall of the town, and then to the fallen forms of refugees littering the field.
"You speak of a situation more complex, but to my eyes it seems simple," Lioslan said, beating vigorously at the flames of a tent. "All good people should stand to protect their kind, be it from orcs, starvation, crime, or any number of other ills. Were more to do so, fewer ills would exist. Were every elf in the Realms to stand starving and homeless upon Evermeet on this day, they would not be turned away."
Innocent, who had been standing silently next to Ulciscor to deliver the names of those desirous of vengeance, finally interjects. "And that is why there are so few good-hearted people in the world. Those who do stand up to these ills die on their feet, but die all the same."
Should heads turn, he lowers his own, looking askance. "What one should do is not always clear. What one does do, however, speaks volumes. And as we stand here amidst the corpses of our foes, the eyes of the frightened are upon us. We stand where they fell. With or without the deputy mayor's coin, we have inherited a responsibility to ensure the orcs fear us more than these people fear the orcs."
"Torture is beneath us - all of us, I should hope," Lioslan sniffed.
"The most inefficient torturers I have known tortured for information. The most successful did so for...fun," he grimaces. "Torturing this orc would neither be informative nor fun." He turns to stare at Dargrim. "Though I could stand to see another felled by Rumblecask."
He circles the unconscious orc as they discuss his fate, and adds, "Most of us will not be here forever, so whatever fear we instill in them must be a lasting one. If he cannot be enchanted, he can be eradicated. Or he can be carried unconscious to the edge of the battlefield to awaken, believing he was overlooked, only to have one of this town's skilled trackers shadow him. Though the mine is our immediate concern, if the tribe's location is somewhere other than the mine, it would be good to know exactly where."
Innocent's eyebrows both life when the dwarf takes matters into his own hands. "Eradicated it is, then."
"You speak of a situation more complex, but to my eyes it seems simple," Lioslan said, beating vigorously at the flames of a tent. "All good people should stand to protect their kind, be it from orcs, starvation, crime, or any number of other ills. Were more to do so, fewer ills would exist. Were every elf in the Realms to stand starving and homeless upon Evermeet on this day, they would not be turned away."
"I do not know your god very well, priest, but I find that things are most frequently set aright by the efforts of mortals upon this world," he added with a smile. "Perhaps you would say that the gods help those who help themselves."
"And that is why there are so few good-hearted people in the world. Those who do stand up to these ills die on their feet, but die all the same."
"What one should do is not always clear. What one does do, however, speaks volumes. And as we stand here amidst the corpses of our foes, the eyes of the frightened are upon us. We stand where they fell. With or without the deputy mayor's coin, we have inherited a responsibility to ensure the orcs fear us more than these people fear the orcs."
Ulciscor smiled easily, both at the elf, and at Innocent's reply. A tenday ago, he would not have said anything at all. A month ago, and he still would not have said anything, but he would have thought something somewhat different, I think.
"The choices mortals make are the tools the gods use to shape the world, indeed. And the more folk who made good choices, the more good would be returned unto them. Sadly, not all make good or wise choices, and so the balance needs restoring, from time to time."
"Jes' smash their bleedin' heads in an' be done with th'lot." Dargrim growls out casually, plodding his way over to the orcs yet disabled by Dorn's dweomer. "Cannae afford t'feed em, even were we addled enough t'fathom it. It be more 'an th'ugly bastards deserve fer all o' this. An' after we've caved in skulls one an' all, let's point our ire at what needs pointed at t'save them diggers what need savin', aye?"
Awaiting no permission or reaction, Dargrim's earthbreaker swings hard into a motionless orc's head, adding a little more gore to the already gruesome battle site. He isn't wearing a grin as he performs the motion, his eyes hard and jaw set in a look that conveys solemn necessity. Dispatching a disabled foe isn't a prospect he enjoys, but he reckons it needs doing. "Probably best we away an' soon. I'd as soon throttle th'cowardly old codger as look at 'is stupid face." Dargrim's gaze wanders to the palisade wall of the town, and then to the fallen forms of refugees littering the field.
Ulciscor had been about to answer Lioslan, when Innocent spoke. His eyebrows, too, rose when Rumblecask's hammer landed, though he did not object.
"If the other still lives, I like Innocent's idea. Although, we can probably follow the tracks of the other survivors pretty easily. And whether it be the mines or the Orc horde, we need to strike - hard, and soon. 'Those who do not respond to attacks against their person or that which they hold dear only invite further attacks.' So quoth the Doombringer."
From where he was liberating a dead orc archer from his bow and arrows, Kevkas laughs. "That's the way! If you can't hit them first, hit them harder! Let's track these dog-f***ers back to their camp and kill some more!"
Dorn shifts uncomfortably during the talk of charming.
"I'm afraid enchantments make me a bit uneasy. I've never really learned any. And it would take time and money I don't have to learn a spell like that now."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Lioslan had stepped prudently out of range of Dargrim's execution, avoiding the splatter of blood on his white tunic. He nodded to Dorn, then turned to Innocent. "Your idea has merit, but the archer is dead, and the sorceror I would not allow to return to his people. Let their blood flow, then, and we may track those who fled. I agree that knowledge of their main force's whereabout could prove most useful."
No, you men were hired to find out what is happening at the mine. The Orcs only matter to you if they've done something to our people at the mine. I can track those that have fled here and observe their numbers; you lot have another task ahead of you. Argentia looks to the gate, where a number of people are milling about. We need our people back. And if they're dead, or otherwise lost - we need them avenged.
So, treasure/loot:
- three amply-sized chain shirts
- 4 suits of studded leather
- 3 composite longbows keyed to a +1 str bonus
- 4 falchions
- about a dozen javelins
- three scimitars
- 70 black-fletched arrows
- four cruel looking braided whips
- coinage: 73 gold, 44 electrum, 101 silver and 88 copper (coins of various origin)
- the ko'd sorcerer has an interesting amulet - an open hand, with a jawed mouth enameled in red (religion DC 25 to identify the significance)
Kevkas looks curiously at one of the orcs' falchions, even going so far as to pick it up and give it a few experimental swings before shrugging and dropping it back on the dead orc's corpse. He picks up one of the bows, though, and takes one of the archers' quivers.
From where he's looting the fallen, he shrugs. "There will be orcs to kill at their camp or at the mine. If we punch them in the nose hard enough at the mine, it will probably draw them from the camp, anyway." He sounds less concerned about recovering the miners than he does about having enough orcs to fight.
"Very well. To the mines, then."
Lioslan looked over the orcish weapons and armor with disdain, though he accepted a portion of the coins that were being split among the party. He bent to examine the sorceror's odd amulet without touching it, but only shook his head, not knowing its significance.
"Once you have taken what you wish of these orcs' things, the rest should go to the town, to aid what defenders they might muster." To his mind, that would not be much of a defense, but the effort should be made. "If you are all supplied, then let us set out immediately."
"We have not been hired for anything yet. We were in the middle of a meeting discussing the terms of service and compensation when this attack occurred," Innocent corrects Argentia, picking up one of the composite longbows from the pile of loot Kevkas has arranged. He plucks the string twice, frowns, and discards it. "Though it did seem that most of this assembly agreed. Either formally with words at the inn or informally with deeds here on the battlefield. Shall we continue that conversation with the deputy mayor, or may we dispense with that milksop and deal exclusively with you?"
The second boxstring is taut and sings a solid note at his plucking, so he slings it over his shoulder and starts poaching fletched arrows from other quivers.
Dorn looks about the camp and gets an idea.
"Argentia, you're clearly the only one around here with their head on straight. I recommend you keep the refugees inside, but leave out their tents and fires. That way if the orcs come again you can draw them into an ambush. You'll only need a standing watch of five or six with bows up on the walls. Talk to the mayor, and make him think it was his idea."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Ulciscor collected a few of the Orc's javelins - supplementing and replacing his own. "It is fitting that any Orcs we encounter feel the bite of Orcish weapons."
He glanced briefly at the fallen sorceror's amulet, but it meant nothing to him. "Probably some superstitious talisman, with meaning to him alone." Ulciscor shrugged.
"Innocent speaks truth. We have not yet finished our negotiations - and the families who have suffered here today are deserving of Hoar's Judgement upon those who have brought suffering upon them. We should conclude these negotiations quickly, so that we can return violence for violence."
If you wish to negotiate further, then you will have to talk to Malfell again, as I have no authority to retain you. Is it more money you desire? More information? I have already said I would guide you as best I can to the mines. Looking to Dorn, she winks. Flatterer! But Malfell will never permit all of these desperate souls within the towns defences. Our best hope will be to see if there are volunteers we can now train, from their number, to help enable their own defence. We may not be able to shield all of them but, Helm willing, we can help them defend themselves.
"It is not a matter of wishing to negotiate for more of anything, Argentia," Ulciscor says, his tone calm, "but that we have not been hired to do anything. The deputy mayor expressed his desires, and we had just clarified the priorities of the job, when this attack interrupted. We all volunteered to assist in the defense of the town - that simply made sense, at the time - but in doing so, we left the inn without being hired to investigate the mines, as yet."
He glanced at Innocent, and then cut his eyes towards the unconscious Orc sorceror, meaningfully.
"As it stands, the deputy mayor is under no formal obligation to compensate us for anything upon our return. Should he not honor an advertised promise due to lack of a contract, it would be unfortunate for him and those who support his authority."
It is stated calmly enough that some may have to think for a moment to realize an understated threat is in there, somewhere.
"It is not that I do not trust the deputy mayor. On the contrary, I trust him to be as any man of words and laws: to find personal advantage wherever it can be found. Best we make terms clear with a written contract. It should only delay our departure by a short time."
Innocent moves to the final fallen orc and puts a blade to his left breastfeeding and moves to sever the heart in twain, but then pauses and looks at Lioslan with the same full and entranced attention as before. His hand shifts forward, offering the blade hilt to the elf if he wanted the pleasure of ending an orc's life instead.
Lioslan, on catching the look and offered blade, nodded to Innocent in a bow that went no lower than his shoulders, a gesture that ceded the right to the kill to the human. While he found the man's habit of staring odd, he could only approve of his gesture - and his wariness in dealing with the likes of the deputy mayor. That oily mayor is just the sort to resort to such trickery. It seems there is yet wisdom to be found among the adventurers of the North... if a bit of a temper, as well.
"They bring up a fair point, and a simple contract may be signed quickly," he agreed, glancing at the sun. "I believe master Rumblecask could ascertain the terms - I've never known a dwarf to let a contract get the better of him. Let us be about it, then, if no more can be done for these poor refugees."
"Poor refugees" had a much better ring to it than "helpless humans."
He looked at Gyro with new respect as they returned to the town. "You pack quite a punch, master blacksmith. Is yours a warrior clan, or is there another story behind that earthbreaker of yours?"
Innocent returns the slight bow with a nod, delivering a swift coup de gras by jamming the scimitar's point downward into the orc's heart. He then withdraws the blade, cleans it, and sheathes it.
"Ah'd prefer t'be off'n helpin' them what's trapped aneath a mine—or avengin' if need be. Might be hard fer t'drink an' wassail on a bounty unpaid, but e'er moment we be dallyin' be a moment th'diggers cannae afford, aye?" Dargrim hooks a sausage-sized thumb back towards Leilon and says, "Ah'll wager Malfell be ready t'honor his end. Might be th'type t'wet 'imself when heroics be called for, but ah'll nary wager he be th'type t'withold payment where payment be deserved. An' ah'll wager a few hundred miners what owe us life an' limb would let th'codger dip out without handlin' our tab."
"If every moment spent is one the miners cannot afford, then we should not be wasting any more than are absolutely necessary. And as Innocent and I will not be leaving until we have solid, witnessed agreement from the deputy mayor, every moment spent arguing about it is an extra moment wasted. A written contract is not required, so long as Malfell verbally commits before witnesses. If he is one to hide behind the letter of his responsibilities - as you all so clearly indicated that you believe him to be - then he is one who will likely suggest that we 'volunteered' out of the goodness of our hearts, as he made no promise to pay before we left. Five minutes before we leave will not make as much difference as will the hours or days - and blood - that might be lost upon our return if we have to fight for our recompense. I do not wish to see the undeserving suffer any more than they must, and a fight here, at home, after returning from whatever ordeal they face now could be enough to break their spirits entirely. Let us hurry, be done with the necessary formalities, and be on to the work."
The trip back through town to find Malfell leads through a large number of the residents, who had gathered to watch the fight outside the palisades. While most still seem shell-shocked, a number give appreciative nods of the head as you pass, or offer simple thanks for your actions. Lioslan, Dorn and Innocent seem to have caught the fancy of several of the local girls, who congregate close and giggle when they think they've caught their chosen heros' eye. Dargrim and Kevkas get offers from the locals to buy them a drink, if they're none too busy of course. No-one seems to know what to make of Gyro but all seem to appreciate his contributions.
A little girl runs up to Ulciscor and places a single flower - a white and purple orchid - into his hand. Thank you for saving mother and father! she says, her little cheeks red, before turning and running.
Malfell is eventually found (having left the inn) in the town hall building, an unassuming, single storied structure made primarily of wood. His small office smells of tobacco and mold; piles of books and papers dominate the small room, with only the surface of his desk free of any clutter.
He looks up from his book and studies your group closely before speaking. Ahhh, it's the adventurers, back again. Good work indeed, driving away those savages. They prey on the weak, you know, so it's nobody's fault but theirs that the refugees were attacked. Well, perhaps the refugees bear some of the blame as well....
Nonetheless, how can I help? Come to finish our meeting, hmmmm? Hoping for more gold after your display out there?
If Innocent even notices the attention of the local girls, he doesn't pay them any mind. He does, however, slow his gait when the little girl rushes at them to present Ulciscor with a flower, in gratitude. The blackguard looks the cleric over afterwards, his expression ambiguous, and breathes out heavily through his nose.
Once in Malfell's office, Innocent does not sit down, but remains standing.
"Not more. Any. As it stands, you are under no obligation to compensate us for anything. No contract has been drafted. It would be in everyone's best interests to correct that before we depart, and finalize our arrangement. Is that to be a three hundred gold per agent, or 300 gold to be shared amongst all agents? This would be the difference between your office paying us 300 gold and paying us 2100 gold. I believe you can see, then, why it is best to have this in writing."
Lioslan took note of the giggling girls congregating in their path, but dismissed them in his mind as foolish children. He neither encouraged nor discouraged their infatuation, though he spared an amused glance to see if Dorn did. The wizard struck Lioslan as the sort who might appreciate an adoring public.
He was rather touched by the small girl who gave Ulciscor the little flower. A sweet gift from a pure heart, he thought approvingly. Though the child doubtless didn't see it, she won a smile from him where the giggling older girls hadn't.
Finding the office of the deputy mayor as unpleasant as the man himself - and perhaps the need to be paid by him, as well - Lioslan was content to let the two vigilant humans speak for all of them. He had gained a favorable impression of Innocent, and watched the man discuss their pay with Malfell with interest. He has dealt with low-lifes before, the elf decided, watching the discussion with his arms folded.
A little girl runs up to Ulciscor and places a single flower - a white and purple orchid - into his hand. "Thank you for saving mother and father!" she says, her little cheeks red, before turning and running.
Ulciscor looked after the little girl, a small smile on his face. Then he held the flower up to his nose and inhaled. "A suitable reward for a deed well done," he murmured, and tucked the flower into a button-hole on the lapel of his heavy coat.
The blackguard looks the cleric over afterwards, his expression ambiguous, and breathes out heavily through his nose.
Ulciscor caught Innocent's eye, smiled, and gave his companion a nod.
Once in Malfell's office, Innocent does not sit down, but remains standing.
"Not more. Any. As it stands, you are under no obligation to compensate us for anything. No contract has been drafted. It would be in everyone's best interests to correct that before we depart, and finalize our arrangement. Is that to be a three hundred gold per agent, or 300 gold to be shared amongst all agents? This would be the difference between your office paying us 300 gold and paying us 2100 gold. I believe you can see, then, why it is best to have this in writing."
Ulciscor stood behind Innocent, a step to the shorter man's left, his face an inscrutable mask. When it came to contracts and wiggle-room, Ulciscor trusted Innocent's experience. He also knew, however, that a tall, imposing presence looming over a shoulder was often helpful in the negotiation of such contracts.
Dorn immediately perked up at the adoration from several of the women in town. He preened like a peacock, using his magic to straighten his robes and waft more lavender into the air. At one point, he conjured a trio of glowing orbs for a group of smiling children, and had it playfully chase them around.
As he entered into the office of the mayor, he made a point to sweep his cloak regally behind him.
During the mayor's opening exchange, he bristled, and remembered how much he hated nobles, politicians, money changers and their ilk.
Surprising to no one, Dargrim revels in the attention and offers of libation. He recounts the tales of their heroics beyond the gate with glee, allowing some somber tones to creep in at those that were lost, but mostly focusing on the toll his earthbreaker Lullaby exacted on the orcish contingent. Ichor from his felled foes still clings to the head of the weapon in unseemly gobs.
Dargrim had resolved to hold his peace when confronting Malfell again, but the dwarf's inability to plug his word-hole ultimately wins out. "Put yer quill t'scroll an' scrawl yer mark so we may do th'same. An' if ye got a lick o' sense, ye'll see about ingratiatin' them that's huddlin' past yonder gate. They without homes'll be th'first tae offer an arm fer swingin' pick or blade. Ah'd be nary surprised if yer minin' operation be havin' a vacancy or fifty in the very near future, though we'll set steel to mitigatin' what losses we can." Dargrim is trying—and largely failing—to conceal a sneer for Malfell, though he knows better than to try and raise another ruckus. Instead, he's trying to spin the situation to favor the refugees as much as he can, though he's fully aware his word likely carries little weight with the elder.
On their way back in to see the mayor, Kevkas seems grumpy, having argued on the battlefield rather loudly that this was a waste of their time. The offers of drinks seem to cheer him up, though, and by the time they're in the mayor's office the half-orc is back to his enthusiastic- if not to say over-enthusiastic- self.
The argument over money puts a sour expression back on his face. "This is stupid. Just tell the priest's friend we each get 300 gold and we'll go save your miners."
Seeing an opening, Dorn tries to speak on behalf of the refugees.
"Surely you can see the advantages, your honor. A set of backs to help fortify walls, stand militia, and do any number of odd jobs that you're short-handed of at the moment. They'll fight for this city as if it were there own. They'll toil every waking moment for you. And they will gratefully praise your mercy all throughout. You'll be seen as a hero to these people."
"And all you have to do is let them in the gates. It's a small price, with virtually no risk."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Dargrim and Dorn's input only serves to darken Innocent's expression, but he doesn't say anything. For Innocent, the gold is only secondary. His primary purpose is to ensure that he isn't made a fool of by Malfell. More than even his coinpurse, Innocent is interested in preserving his dignity.
That doesn't mean the gold takes last place, however, and Innocent's bristling stems from the arguments giving the deputy mayor cause to renegotiate any sum of money he was promising. Putting these destitute refugees to work is an expense, and all he has to do is deliver a convincing enough line about the town's budget to make these bleeding hearts sell off their shares of coin to compensate the masses for their toil.
But even so, there was something to be said for the security it would provide to anyone who lodges in the city, Innocent decided. He grimly awaits the deputy mayor's response.
Malfell smiles for a moment - looking almost like a predator about to pounce - before calling out. Kindle, lad, go fetch Brother Morin, if you'd be so kind.
Yes, your grace! calls back another voice, youthful, male, before you hear the main door open and shut.
Brother Morin is the head of the .... church of Tyr, here in town. He will help us nail down any details you like, in writing. Malfell swipes at a spot on one of his lapels, looking irritated. Just to clear up any confusion, the rate for this mission is 300 gold EACH. I'd not insult slayers such as yourselves with a pittance for what will be, I'm sure, an important mission.
Malfell sits back and smiles as Kevkas and Dorn speak their piece, but says nothing, instead nodding his head in a very non-committal manner.
A few moments later you hear the front door open - the trod of armoured feet across the wooden floorboards. A young man pops his head into the office - handsome, with a closely trimmed head of brown hair, he smiles genially to the assembled group, though the smile dims somewhat when he looks upon Malfell.
Well, our heroes then, eh? Good to meet ya - I'm Morin, I lead the Even-Handed's temple here in town. Young Kindle says I'm ta help ya with yer contract.... He looks at Malfell again. It's a good thing young Kindle knew ta look fer me on th' field o' battle, DEPUTY MAYOR, rather n' holed up in my office. I was out there fightin', as all goodly folk were doin'.
Yes, yes, admirable... mutters Malfell, his eyes narrowed just a bit. Can we get to business? Your rate has been established. What else do you desire?
"Nothing more than that in writing, so that your honor is ensured," Innocent answers promptly, and then proceeds to inform Brother Morin about the terms: that each individual whom Innocent names - some with their help, if he cannot recall the name - will receive 300 gold upon completion of the mission to the Atthak II complex, completion defined as returning either with the miners themselves or with proof of their demise. Innocent suggests that, should this crew secure the mine, their additional reward be a masterwork weapon or armor of their choosing, custom-crafted by the dedicated smiths of this longtime mining town, free of charge. The deputy mayor's office may determine whether or not or how to compensate the smiths.
Having laid out what Innocent thinks are agreeable terms, he still leaves room open for others to interject their own terms as they see fit. He seems to be keeping it terse and simple, either out of no desire to accomplishing anything but making sure the deputy mayor compensates them or because he quietly agrees with Kevkas - that time is being wasted here nailing down an oily politician instead of spilling orc guts.
Ulciscor raises an eyebrow at Innocent's addition of the weapons in exchange for securing the mines, but says nothing. After a moment, he makes only one suggestion.
"And found," he says. "It will be easier on the town's coffers if we may supplement our reward with whatever we are able to recover from the enemy."
Malfell looks down his long nose at Innocent. Your compensation, sir, is 300 gold. If someone else - a grateful family, or a bereaved one - wishes to make recompense to you, then that is fine. Salvage rights from the men at the mine are also acceptable to me. But that is all. Do you perceive weakness in us, then, that you should attempt to alter the deal so?
Morin looks up from his parchment. Were weapons offered earlier, then? Or is this a new development?
"In the Inn, you referred to securing the mine as an added bonus," Innocent reminds the deputy mayor, meeting his gaze with deliberate intent. His shoulders widen in response to the man's tone, and Innocent seems just shy of threatening him, but he keeps it in check. "I see that you meant a bonus for you and Leilon, and not for those risking their lives for your benefit. I will remember your show of integrity should we meet again."
Provided there is no further disagreement from the party, Innocent assets his approval for 300 gold alone to Brother Morin.
Kevkas had nodded at the Tyran when Morin came in, but said nothing. Now that it seems the meeting is finally over, the big half-orc cracks his neck to the left and the right and grins. "Finally. Let's go break some heads."
Dargrim grins and nods an agreement with the burly half-orc. "Ah've nay had me fill o' head-breakin' meself."
Dorn looks over the documentation and notices the wording is largely similar to most guild contracts he had seen. If there were any hidden surprises, he lacked the legal training to spot them.
Of course, what wasn't being said was vastly more important. Three hundred eagles was a handsome sum for a single adventurer. Too handsome, really, for an apparent miser like Malfell. Clearly, the Deputy Mayor expected most of them to die.
Dorn smiled amiably as he signed the documents. And then he began plotting.
-Posted with Wayfinder
It's mid afternoon by the time you're ready to leave; the sun has peeked out from behind the clouds, as if finally willing to look upon the destruction in the refugee camp. We could have used his radiance earlier; Orcs hate the full light of day. Argentia opines as you're leaving the gates and passing through the refugee camp.
The road itself is well-tended and in constant use; the first five miles are level and time goes quickly. As you get into the foothills, you begin walking up a steady grade which does slow you down slightly. Another three miles and the sun begins to set.
Argentia sets down her pack for a rest and takes a drink of water before surveying the group. I don't know how you lot want to proceed. Night is setting in; it might be smart to find a defensible position and rest till dawn. We're not sure what walks these paths at night, or at least, it's given our armed patrols a wide berth. What do you men think? Whatever your decision, you'll have to be in condition to fight at our destination, should circumstances call for it.