Looking at the two half-orcs dubiously but trusting her companions to keep an eye on them, Iandra moves to undo whatever shackles might be restraining their diminutive captive. “Well, it’s not you being rescued specifically, but…yes, I suppose so.” She looks at the halfling and addresses her in her own tongue: “What happened here, anyway? How’d you end up in the clutches of those oafs?”
“New management and with that comes freedom. Naturally we must make up for your hardship and tend to your wounds and see to it that you are safe. I am Elisdriel and you are indeed under our protection.”
The elf continues to keep his focus on the two-half orcs focused on keeping them in order as Iandra continues with the halfling. Making a gesture to one dropped weapon than the other as he speaks a word of power to move it further from the former foe's hands.
Silas looks around as Iandra and Elisdriel deals with the others. He nods as the elf offers aid to the orc-bloods. Looking towards the them he says, "Any other weapons you have? We want to build trust but these bodies give us some concern, so that will take a little time." Silas waves at the bodies.
Raising his voice, he addresses everyone, "Anyone that needs healing let me know. I can help." Silas looks around expectantly, feeling his minor wound, and seeing blood on Iandra. He's not sure about the halfling or her captors.
Silas, after making sure that everyone that want it it withing 30' of him calls upon the power of his god to bring healing. Grasping his wooden symbol of a tankard, chants a prayer, "Generous Lord, we beseech thee, bring your blessing of balm upon his that your will is made manifest in this world." The tankard bring to glow with a golden light and it pour out looking like the overflow of a head of a fine beer. The scent of drink and homey foods fill the air bringing memories of good times and camaraderie to all hearts. The glow flows to every wound and they start to close and the pain rinses away. When complete it all vanishes as abruptly as a dream upon awaking.
After a beat, Silas asks, "Is everyone good now?"
The Caydenite turns and looks at Silas. “Come to think of it, I did feel a bit tingly there for a moment…” she notes with a smirk. “Still am aching just a little, though. Could see to that myself if we’ve a few more minutes to spare.” She then gives the newly rescued halfling her attention again.
Seemingly reassured, if not exactly much healthier after the blessing, the halfling answers the question in Common, "We were out here looking for a nobleman who died fighting the Lich's army. We knew he was around here somewhere, except, you know, those bodies get up and walk around. And, hired isn't the right word, since we weren't being paid yet. But anyway, we came across these lumpheads. Seemed friendly at first, but then one of them started yelling at us about taking his claim, and they all jumped us!"
Though he listens to the words the elf doesn’t speak remaining focused on the magical spell in removing the weapons. His companions continuing to lead the conversation without his interruption for the moment.
"I seems that I have a bit to learn about calling forth miracles. Not done it much yet."
Silas, hearing what the halfling had to say, asks the other two about it. "Okay you too, tells us what was the problem, what did they do?" Silas looks at them, waiting for their explaination, expecting lies but willing to hear them out.
“They do say that practice makes perfect.”
Iandra considers the halfling’s words. “A dead nobleman, huh. He wouldn’t happen to have been the cousin of a certain councilwoman, would he?” She pauses. “Wait, you said ‘we’ and ‘us’, but all I’m seeing is you. Does that mean what I fear it means?” she says, glancing round at the bodies scattered about.
Green, who hasn't actually said his name yet, looks to Silas and says, indicating Blue, "Mors had ex-clu-sive —" He pauses for just a moment, glancing towards Red, "That's the word he used, right?" After the other nods, he goes on, "Ex-clu-sive Rights to salvage in this area, given to him by the Lady Xansippe herself! That one," and he points to a dead human near the side of the camp, "said that they were going to take everything they can carry!"
"He did not!" shouts the halfling, angrily, "All he said was he was hoping he could find a magic sword! He was always saying that; he's been wanting one since he was my size!"
She does calm enough to nod to both of Iandra's questions, taking a couple of deep breaths. "You know about that?"
Silas lets Iandra continue with the halfling and answers the half-orc. "I hadn't heard of any exclusive deals involving this offer, I suspect your boss overstated matters but I'll see if anything is on him."
Silas searches the late mercenary half-orc boss for anything he has on him, collecting valuables, and checking for any documents.
She looks from “Green” to his former captive and back, a little bemused by the subject’s turning to salvage rights. “Well, you’ll excuse me,” Iandra says, “if I’m inclined to think you’re the sort to kill the fellow first and ask questions later.” She glances at her companions and gives them a slight shrug, not sure yet what to make of this added complication.
The Caydenite nods herself in response to the halfling’s enquiry. “That’s right. Quite a commodity, those dead cousins.” She looks around the campsite in all its grisliness. “Makes you wonder if it’s really worth it, though, doesn’t it?”
“Not for a single moment.” The elf says with a shake of his head, “There is too much at stake to turn away losing the good will and the power and influence that comes with it. With any luck this noble will be half dead and we shall not bring forth ill tidings. If so than we shall have to console the councilwomen and at least she may mourn her nephew.”
The dead half-orc's pouch contains six gold coins and two rolled-up pieces of parchment.
The first piece is, indeed, a salvage contract. After every siege, the city hires adventurers to search through the carnage to find armaments that belonged to the city militia, paying finders fees for anything recovered. It's about the lowest-paid adventuring job available. This is simply one of those contracts.
The word 'exclusive' is not found anywhere on it, nor does it specify an area to be searched.
The second piece of parchment is a note.
Silas takes the pouch, and reads the notes, at the first one he says, "Standard salvage contract, says nothing about exclusive rights."
He reads the other, and then walks to Elsidriel says, "Master, you'll want to see this." Silas seems to be playing up a bit for the others.
As Silas speaks Elisdriel turns his attention turning to the half elf before looking to the parchment, “Quite ambitious indeed. He indeed earned the compensation he deserved.” Considering for a moment the elf would pause for a moment, “If there is no disagreement when all is ready, we should continue onwards.”
“Yeah, but…” She sighs. “Oh, never mind.”
Iandra turns to the halfling again. “What are you going to do? Make your way back to the city?”
The halfling looks startled by the question, as if she didn't realize until now that she had to think of that. "Well, it seems like I'll have to." She looks around to the dead bodies, and says, "I'll have to find someone to help bring them home for burial, at the very least."
She looks back to you, and says, indicating the half-orcs, "What about them? If you're setting them loose, I'd like a head start."
“Or you could travel with us and complete the task you had started.” The elf says his gaze turning to the half orcs as he continues to speak, “As for them, they shall not trouble you any further and they have much to atone for. You will be safe traveling with us if you so choose.”
“You’ll have your work cut out for you, taking the bodies back home – though it’s only the proper thing to do, of course,” Iandra adds with a small smile that is approving and commiserating both.
She looks around. “Yeah, you’re welcome to join us. Though I’m sure you won’t want to leave your late companions behind…” She purses her lips. “We could cremate them, maybe? Some of us are followers of Cayden Cailean, so we could…say a few words over them, if you like? It won’t be the grandest funeral, but it’d be something.”
The halfling looks surprised, but then grateful. She nods to Elisdriel and Iandra, and says, "I'd be grateful, thank you. My name's Tothi. Tothi Caskdown. I'm not much good in a fight, but I make a good distraction, and I'm pretty good with locks and traps."
Silas says to Elisdriel, "Perhaps you could catch up Iandra, while I take our violent new 'Friends' to gather wood." Assuming that no one objects he says to Tothi, "Sorry to be abrupt but if there is anything of your companions you wish for yourself or their heirs let it be taken now. I'll see to the cremation with these ... warriors."
Silas goes to the orckin and says, "I believe your boss lied to you about his rights here, so how about you show you aren't murderers by helping us gather wood for a proper cremation? We don't want to add to the numbers of undead around here anyway." Assuming that they agree after not too much grumbling, he sets about gathering wood and preparing the area of the cremation pit.
Silas leads his group out to find the wood with his and their darkvision making it a possible task. The eerie land is near empty of life but many a dead or dying tree is about making gathering sufficient dry wood a chore but not excessively so.
Once Silas brings the two away the elf’s gaze turns to Inadra his voice lowering, “It seems that the missing noble is not something which occurred by accident. It is to distract our soon to be patron.” He gestures to the dead, "The death was planned their leader was under orders to kill any who came by claiming salvage rights."
“Iandra Thistlerun,” she introduces herself to the halfling, smiling. “Good to meet you, Tothi, despite these terrible circumstances. Any help you’re willing to give us, we’re more than happy to accept.” Her smile fades as she falls silent for a few moments. “Well, I had better see to the bodies so we can build the pyre as the others are back. If you’d like to claim any of their, um, personal effects, now is the time.”
Brought up to speed by Elisdriel, Iandra nods grimly. “Figures,” she responds in a quiet voice. “Politics. I hated them back in Cheliax and I hate them here.” The Caydenite glances in the direction the half-orcs disappeared into. “But we have some proof at least…not that it’ll be much use, I bet.”
Tothi nods her thanks, and moves off to the say goodbye to each of her friends, and take a little something from each of them to remember them by. She also gathers their weapons from where the half-orcs had stored them after the fight. Their armour she leaves on, out of respect.
2 daggers
Necksplitter
2 short swords
breastplate
hand crossbow
greataxe
mace
longbow, 20 arrows
Later, she stands in a grieving silence as the pyre burns. In fact, she says very little until after you're on the move again.
It's a couple more hours of travel before you reach the edge of the wasteland where the Lich was fought, and a stone siege tower that was used as both barracks and a place for wizards and archers to bombard the undead army. The tower's door, designed to keep enemies out, has been barred from the outside, nailed shut. The beam of wood blocking the door has cracked a bit, however, as if something has been trying to get out.
Nothing grows here. Even the plants are dead. In the far distance, in the wastes beyond the tower, you can see shambling figures milling about.
When Tothi’s companions are sent on to their final rest, Iandra makes an honest effort to say a few earnest, comforting words at their pyre. She’s unlikely to do a terribly good job of it, or so she feels; being a follower of Cayden Cailean hasn’t exactly equipped her to deal with such solemn occasions, and she doesn’t even have a jug of ale to pour out. As such, she limits herself to commending their souls to Pharasma, and promising that a glass or two shall be raised to their memory at the earliest opportunity. It’s not much, but it will have to do.
She does express an interest in the longbow and the quiver of arrows. It’s not that she’s a spectacular shot, but raining down arrows on a target from a hundred feet away is a desirable tactical option – and if she’s being quite honest, she’d just like for that tedious archery training she went through to actually pay off at some point.
As for the half-orcs’ fate, Iandra chooses to defer to her companions. Based on what she has seen and heard, she doesn’t believe anything good will come from letting the brutes go…but Elisdriel and Silas suggested otherwise to them, and going back on that strikes her as counterproductive too. Nothing for it but hope the group won’t regret it, she reckons.
Later, at the siege tower, she takes in the scene before her with a frown. “Well, allegedly our man might be in that tower still. Something is, judging from the look of that barricade,” she mutters. “The question is, how do we find out without simply breaking open the door?”
The elf for his part remains silent as the prayers are spoken. Knowing not the dead nor serving their god to send them off he remains appropriately solemn. Though not grieving he remains respectful to the one mourning the loss of her companions. Once the ceremony ends, he prepares to make his way off moving silently.
As to the fate of the half orcs he makes no movement to give return their weapons to them nor does he offer to slay the unarmed or send them away. A chance at redemption, cannon fodder, or perhaps to send to their future patron if her nephew is discovered dead. He will not argue their fate either way, however he is not one to take part in the death of those who have surrendered.
Once they arrive to the siege tower Elisdriel studies it for several moments rubbing his chin, “No desire to open the gates and free whatever is inside? Perhaps it is our allies seeking to free themselves, but I am not quite willing to trust on such luck.” There is a shake of his head, “Courtly intrigue is where I excel. I defer to the three of your wisdom.” He gestures to the trio, half orcs if they were allowed to remain excluded.
Tothi spends a few moments looking at the tower, and says, "See that platform sticking off the side of the smaller tower? That's a wizard's platform. I bet we can get in there, if we can climb up to it. Tough climb, though. The door is probably easier."
Silas quietly conducts the ceremony, asking his god to put in a good word for the deceased to Pharasma, Mistress of the Boneyard.
Silas waves his hand as to have his friends take of the loot what they wish.
Silas looks back and forth between his friends who seem to want him to decide the fate of the late orc's stooges. So Silas says to the hapless orckin , "It looks like the last survivor is going to stay with us a bit. Not too surprisingly she doesn't want to be around anyone involved in her friends deaths. On the other hand it seem clear your late boss lied to you. So you get some of your basic weapons back and I suggest you make for town. Obviously if you follow us we'll take that badly, normally we'd take two more good warriors as yourselves but we can use a the- errr. helpful artist of getting into places where she is not wanted more. Best be on your way then. May the Holy Drunk guide and protect you on your journey."
Silas says, "I've a modest skill at climbing but I'm no expert. The door is clearly safer if we can open it without destroying it and if whatever in there is not too unfriendly. Otherwise we have rope, Toshi could you make that climb and lower a rope for the rest of us?"
After a few moments of silence and appraising his companions the elf finally spoke, “Then we are to all climb up and attempt to make our way inside?” stroking his chin once more he looked to the barred doorway, “Perhaps we might give a sharp bang on the door call out and If any response favorably let them out.”
“I’m just not convinced that anything left in there is going to be friendly towards us. The Whispering Tyrant besieged Absalom some two months ago, right? Seems pretty unlikely to me that any living folk could’ve held out in there that long. Not to mention the barricade’s on the outside of the tower.”
Iandra shrugs. “I can climb well enough if need be. Didn’t think to bring any kit, unfortunately.” She eyes the tower some more before letting out a sigh. “We can try the door, I suppose. Let’s just hope doing so won’t catch the attention of anything too nasty.”
"Sorry Tothi isn't it, my bad, it's already been a long day, and longer night. I not sure what else we might do, so if you could climb and belay a line to help that would be great otherwise we take the door and hope we can win against wherever the door was barred against. Wait how high are those first floor arrow slits; not big enough to let anyone in but maybe we can see something?" Silas asks.
Silas stops speaking and tries to see if the height of the arrow slits is low enough that someone could peer in if standing on his shoulders.
Indeed, the arrows slits on the main level are practically the perfect height. With a boost from one of the others, Tothi can peek inside. Looking in the one on the right side of the entrance, "I don't see much in there, a couple of broken bows, a few quivers lined up. Nothing moving."
"Wait, I… AHH!" Ducking back, and almost toppling off of the shoulders of whoever she's standing on, she barely misses being caught in the face by a skeletal hand sticking out through the arrow slit.
Regaining her composure, she says, "Yeah, undead. But no idea if it's the body we're looking for. We might have to go through the whole tower."
“Whoa!” she exclaims when Tothi is attacked, taking a step away from the building while gripping the halfling’s ankles more tightly. “Well, that answers that, huh?” Iandra angles her head upward. “Putting a few arrows or sling stones or what-have-you through that slit is out of the question, I’m guessing? No way to do this but the hard way?”
The elf’s lips pressed together in a thin frown as the skeletal hand appears. After seeing to it that Tothi is not injured from the near fall Elisdriel presses his fingers against his forehead as if warding off a headache, “It was to much to hope that all was well. Still there is hope that we have a survivor inside.” With a small shrug of his shoulder he turns his gaze to the door quickly casting mage armor upon himself.
Tothi looks surprised but then thoughtful at Iandra's suggestion. "Ooh, yeah, that's an option! If we draw them into that room, I bet we can pick them off! At least, all the ones downstairs. And if our guy is still alive, they'll be upstairs. Nobles always like being upstairs, and if he was downstairs he'd probably already have gone home."
Silas goes over the options for the group and then asks for everyone's opinion after giving his own. Silas says, [b]"I think I like the last option of luring the undead to a window and striking them there. We'll need to keep and eye out for outside 'friends', perhaps I do the drawing Iandra smashes with her hammer and Elisdriel watches our rear for any friend. I not sure what you can do Tothi, any ideas? Well, in any case, how's that for a plan of sort?
The elf listens to the plan considering for a moment, "I am not sure my lack of weapon and armor makes the greatest of cover. If we were to do that plan perhaps Iandra covering our flank, while my magic strikes them from afar." Pausing for a moment he adds his gazing moving to each of his companions, "Or the four of us enter together. United we are stronger than splitting out strength."
Silas’s plan meets with her approval. “Someone needs to keep an eye on the shamblers out here – but if we deal with the undead in the tower quickly enough, that’s all the lookout’ll have to do.” Iandra hefts her hammer. “And frankly, I’m better equipped for doing that dealing than for standing watch.” She looks at Tothi. “You wouldn’t happen to have a sling or some other way to lend fire support if need be, would you?”
Tothi gives a quick nod, and says, "I do, in fact!" She digs into her pack to produce the sling and starts to gather rocks for bullets.
It doesn't take long to gather everybody into their roles.
The elf watches the human for several moments before speaking, “Despite my noble blood I am a diplomat and a scholar. I am not a scout. Keeping an eye from afar is not something I have dedicated my life to. Obtaining information is. As you have assessed that calling forth magical flames to consume the undead.” Despite his protests the elf makes his way off to keep watch.
Seeing that Elsidriel moves to be the watcher in spite of his protests, Silas goes to the window then looks to Iandra, "Ready? Let's do this."
Silas puts away his shield on his back and uses only his gauntlets. He goes up to the silt reaches up and bangs the gauntlets together trying to leave enough room for Iandra to reach up and smack anything that reaches out.
1 Fooling mindless undead is either easy or impossible, let me know.
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She nods at Silas. “Time to earn our keep!” Hefting her warhammer, she prepares to smash whatever foes show their undead faces while continually cussing them out at the top of their voice in an attempt to keep their attention on her.
Tothi sets up a constant stream of loading bullets into her sling, throwing, and reloading again. There is enough gap between each undead appearing in the windows that she has time to reload, allowing her to send two bullets at each enemy.
It seems to work! And work well. The noises draw the undead to the window, where they are killed by a combination of Warhammer, fire, and those rare bullets from Tothi that actually hits.
Eventually, no more undead come to the window. There does still sound to be something moving inside, but either it's smart enough not to be drawn to the window, or it's trapped in another room.
Elisdriel does spot some incoming undead from the battlefields, but they're still minutes away. If you get inside quickly, they may wander right past.
Turning about the elf moved to make his way towards the tower pausing to gaze upon his three companions his voice lowering as he spoke, “There is something coming, I am unsure how many, I believe it may be best for us to make our way inside, least we be overwhelmed .”