It is late in the month of Desnus. The sun warms each day, but there is always a cold breeze coming from the east as the Mindspin Mountains glower down at the independent town of Trunau. To the north and west, it is no better as the Orc Hordes of Belkzen dominate the landscape. Trunau though, survives and thrives. A town of descendants who refused to flee from the orc hordes, they stand behind their walls ready to fight. They stand to honor their home and ancestry. They stand on Bloodmarch Hill.
The caravan was a few hours outside of Trunau. It was late morning and the caravan was expected to arrive early afternoon. When the caravan came to a stop, Gabsen, a seasoned veteran on this route, became concerned. A huge tree blocked the main road, stopping the caravan. Instantly recognizing the signs of a possible ambush, Gabsen directed the merchants into a defensive position around a nearby camp he used on several occasions. The camp offered a small cave with a rounded rock wall for protection and defense. Shortly after the perimeter was secure and the merchants were relatively safe inside the cave, Gabsen was prepared to complete some scouting of the area. As he was about to leave, movement caught his eye in the distance. It was several orcs, and they were approaching. Gabsen immediately set his guards into defensive positions between the carts. As luck would have it, guests in the caravan on their way to Trunau were willing to also stand along the perimeter. Two Shoanti if he was not mistaken, one with golden eyes and one with abyssal heritage. He then set a large fire in the middle of camp, captured its smoke using an animal hide, and then periodically released the captured smoke into the sky above.
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It was early evening and Brogann, Schwertleite, and Sigrun stood on a rocky bluff using its elevation to scout the area ahead. They noticed the smoke signal shortly after they left Trunau and followed the distress call for miles.
Earlier that day, Rodrik and Kurst Grath approached Brogann and his Dwarf companion as they recently started their watch on the wall. Chief Defender Halgra had a mission for them, the Graths explained. An important caravan from the north was late in arriving, and Halgra wanted a small group to scout north and find it. The Graths suggested to also take an Ulfen Half-elf with them. The Ulfen has lived in Trunau for weeks and has not taken up residence nor has she paid her Siege-Fee, they go on to explain. For past payment of these fees, she has agreed to partake on this mission. The Graths described her as quick with a blade, accurate with a bow and a temper to match both . They also admit that they want to test her loyalty and would rather this be done outside the walls.
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Both parties notice several orcs gathering southeast of the encampment. It is evening and daylight is dwindling. The orcs have not made a move of aggression yet, but you all feel this is imminent with darkness approaching.
Over the course of their journey in the caravan, Cetan had only made very light small-talk with the one known as "Sky Voice." He had told tales of his "mother," and they filled his heart. He hadn't returned much in the way of story, out of wariness over his heritage, but this still made him feel slightly bad.
As they stood in the perimeter, guarding merchants from the caravan, Cetan strikes up with Sky Voice.
"We both spent much time with the people of Shundar-Quah. We both ventured away from it for long times. It is too bad we did not join together then, instead of now. From your stories I sense we have some common things. Such as blood that causes others to see you as blessed... or cursed."
He folds his arms and looks down at them, frowning slightly as he says this last part.
Sigrun stands casually with her thumbs hooked into her belt. She looks down on the area below the bluff impassively, maybe slightly bored. It is the kind of expression one might see on a person's face when they are given an entire wagon of potatoes to peel.
She gifts to gaze over to Brogann. Sigrun is tall enough to meet his eyes levelly. She asks him in heavily accented common "so how long is it I am to be your thrall?"
Sigrun then points to a spot atop the cliff above the caravan's emergency encampment.
"Archers coming above. Since we have come all this way, we should hurry if we will do something. Otherwise the trip will be a waste of time."
The massive soldier grunts, and follows Sigrun's indication
I trust your keen eyes.And you can trust orcs to be untrustworthy. We should cut their planned ambush short, and their skin deep.
He doesnt waste time, and start climbing the cliff, despite his armor
I'll drop you a rope, if you need.
Brogann snorts in response to the Ulfen's question. "Not my thrall. Not my rules. But I guess anywhere you go you've gotta do the paperwork."
The Taldan takes his greatsword in hand and paces a bit.
"I don't blame you for being fed up."
He nods in Schwertleite's direction. "Ask the dwarf. Rules are more her thing."
"I'll take your word for it. What's the plan?"
He casts Mage Armor on himself.
Sigrun snorts in return. "The halfling at the Ramblehouse said many rules about different things when I got a room there. I stopped listening so I don't think I heard about a tax for visiting. It is bad for business to do that you know. Can somebody tell me how long I am a thrall by the time we are done here?"
To Brogann's request for a plan she replies sardonically "I am the one who is the thrall."
This not stop her from offering several opinions though.
"The road was blocked early because they like this place for an ambush. Probably archers above are why. But the caravan comes when it comes. If they were humans, they would have attacked before the caravan could set a defense. Maybe they waited because the archers were not ready, they are orcs you see so no good planning. If they were humans and not stupid, the archers would have been ready."
"I think they wait for dark though, when they see best and we do not. It would be good to wait for them to attack, then come from behind. Surprise would confuse them. But if they do wait for the dark, it is better to not wait for them to move first when they have the dark. Too many for us to take them all where they are. The caravan might decide to sit behind their wagons instead of help. Caravan masters are not usually brave or clever about these things."
"If we go fast, we could go around the far side of the wagons and up the cliff. We deal with the archers there first, then come down. Orcs are not ones to take spoiled plans well. If the others outside the wagon circle see their plan is spoiled, they might be angry enough to attack right away, before dark."
Sigrun shrugs. "But then I am the thrall, so I follow your plans."
"Ye'll a 'thrall', as ye sae childishly pat it, 'til ye decide tae graw up 'n' stairt contributing tae th' community." Schwertleite's low rumble of a voice matches her stature compared with the two humans standing behind her. One hand rests on the handle of her hammer hanging on her belt, while the other shades her eyes from the sun's glare.
"Bit supposing whit ye say is correct, th' sensible thing tae dae wid be tae hae th' caravan set up a fortified position 'n' mak' th' orcs break thair wallies upon thair steel." She snorts derisively. "Human folk ur seendle sae wise. Yer plan is a guid yin, Sigrùn - hauld yer horses 'til th' archers ur duin tae fire, then strike thaim doon 'n' let th' raiders below flounder lik' th' worms they're." Grinning, she looks back at her companions and hoists her hammer. "Urr ye duin?"
Sigrun looks at the dwarf for a moment, then gives up and looks at the man to translate. The stuff the dwarven woman said had the vague feel of common, but she could make no real sense of it.
An insult I think. Then followed by waiting for the orcs to do something? Or maybe not...? We should not wait, we will lose the light while their archers will not care...
"I only caught half of it myself, but I think she said you had a good plan. Wait for them to attack the caravan, then take them from behind."
The wizard turns to the dwarf.
His Dwarven is technically correct, though a bit halting.
"I'm okay at climbing. Not great. I doubt Schwertleite is going to be able to manage it in her armor. If we could get cover here, I'd prefer luring the orcs to us. I can't match the range on their bows and climbing to get to them could fail."
Sigrun frowns, the things being repeated back to her as her "good plan" are from her okay plan rather than her better plan. She tries one more time.
"But you see past the last wagon on the end away from the orcs? It is not so steep there. We can go up with no climbing or maybe just a little. We can not match their arrows coming from up there if we leave them alone. The archers can hunt us like deer, and the wagons give no cover."
"If we wait for them, and they wait for dark, the orcs have all the strengths. They can see, we cannot. The shoot down on us, we cannot see to shoot back even if we had more bows. It is still like day to them while we trip in the dark."
"I say we go now, around to wagon and up the easy slope. We kill the archers first in the light. Then we go down and kill the rest."
"But I am the thrall, and my better ideas do not change that."
"Indeed, Cetan it seems we have much common ground, more than just Quah and strange blood, but also strange magical callings. I hope that our paths stay crossed, you too seem to feel more at home under the stars than a camp I take it? Regardless our escort seems to have spotted something. I don't intend for my journey to stop here. Be close when battle erupts and I will bolster you along with my brother."
If he has the time Sky Voice would like to mount his horse for better mobility and place himself close to both Towering Brother and Cetan.
Cetan nods at Sky Voice's sentiment, but his head is turning this way and that, preparing for the impending darkness.
"Yes, this is not the end, because we have help. I came close once before, and help was delivered seemingly from nowhere."
He looks around at the encroaching orcs, trying to count them. Frowning, he adds
"We could maybe use a little more help right now... help that can see in the dark as we can."
Sigrun frowns, the things being repeated back to her as her "good plan" are from her okay plan rather than her better plan. She tries one more time.
"But you see past the last wagon on the end away from the orcs? It is not so steep there. We can go up with no climbing or maybe just a little. We can not match their arrows coming from up there if we leave them alone. The archers can hunt us like deer, and the wagons give no cover."
"If we wait for them, and they wait for dark, the orcs have all the strengths. They can see, we cannot. The shoot down on us, we cannot see to shoot back even if we had more bows. It is still like day to them while we trip in the dark."
"I say we go now, around to wagon and up the easy slope. We kill the archers first in the light. Then we go down and kill the rest."
"But I am the thrall, and my better ideas do not change that."
Brogann shrugs. "You and Schwertleite figure it out. Just tell me what to do.
I can climb okay, like I said. I can throw my sword about 25 feet. And I've got some magic that might be of use. I can turn you into a giant if you want... for about a minute."
"It is times like this that I wish I was a more normal Planetouched and could summon daylight, alas I am Angelkin and have the ability to change my form instead."
Completely gobsmacked, Sigrun stares at Brogann in shock for a moment.
"You throw your sword?"
Sigrun mentally estimates downward their chances for survival.
His mention of magic is also questionable, especially as it applies to being used on her.
"My size is fine." Sigrun jerks her thumb at Schwertleite.
"Can you make her a giant? That would help."
Sigrun is more or less sure part of whatever the dwarven woman had said to her was insulting, but not completely sure. Enough for passive aggressive barbs returned but not more.
Eyeing the orcs moving from above, Gabsen quickly climbs the rock face. He has done this before and knows where to place his hands and feet. When he pulls himself to the top, the orcs greet him with fanged, drooling maws and blood-red eyes scouring the warrior for weaknesses.
With Gabsen’s approach on the orcs above, the other orcs let out hostile growls and curses. They seem ready to attack.
"But I am the thrall, and my better ideas do not change that."
Brogann shrugs. "You and Schwertleite figure it out. Just tell me what to do."
"O' coorse ah will tak' charge, ye stoatin ninnies, " Schwertleite answers matter-of-factly. "'N' o' coorse we'll climb up th' gentler brae. Ainlie an eejit wid climb straecht up that cliff..."
Her voice trails off as she spots a figure doing just that. "Forgefather save me, wull human folk ne'er learn ony sense?" she mutters crossly. "'N'... thare th' orcs gang. Chaynge o' plan - we're th' hammer tae th' caravan's anvil. Let's juist hawp thay kin haud it th'gither lang enough." The dwarf begins stomping down the bluff towards the orcs, hammer in hand.
Sigrun notices the man scaling the cliff as well.
"Damn, just one goes up? Maybe he is crazy. But we know they know about the archers up there. There is no time to help him, it would take to long to get there. So things change and we go for the others."
Sigrun draws her greatsword and begins to run toward the orcs massed outside the wagons. She quickly outpaces Schwertleite.
Cetan bobs his head noncommittally at Sky Voice's remark. Hmm... yeah. I can make darkness. Maybe that will be useful.
He shrugs, truly unsure of how this is going to go.
This feels like a calm before a storm. Unconsciously, he thumbs the string of the longbow slung over his back.
Gabsen doesnt waste time, and slashes at the closest orc, wordlessly.
And mercilessly.
Gabsen slices his longsword deep into the nearest orc from shoulder to its opposite side. Amazingly, it still stands and snarls as it bleeds out.
The caravan guards, their heavy crossbows loaded, turn to assist Gabsen and shoot at one of the archers as it approaches their leader. All three bolts miss their target.
The ground starts to hum as the beating of drums pervades the area. The Orcs raise their weapons and scream their bloodlust. The drums continue.
There is an Orc in red robes holding something above his head. He is too far away to hear anything more than guttural Orc sounds, but shortly after he is done speaking, a wave of blood-red light emanates from the item it holds above its head. The crimson coat rolls over the gathered orcs, and they scream even louder.
One Orc brandishing a giant, spiked warhammer, runs toward the encampment and lunges on its wall. The loose rock gives way and he falls forward into the encampment.
Another Orc, heavily armored in field-plate and carrying a great-axe, runs closer to the encampment.
An Orc grasping a heavy, curved blade notices Sigrun’s approach, points his weapon while offering a snarl, and charges toward her.
The Orc Archer farthest to the west watches his companion move toward Sigrun and shoots an arrow at her. The arrow grazes her shoulder as it flies past her.
The remaining two Orc Archers shoot arrows toward the nearest caravan guard. Neither arrow comes close to hitting the guard.
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Gabsen focuses on the trio of Orcs near him. The Orc he nearly cut in two drops his bow and draws a wicked, curved sword from his back. The other two orcs stay a few feet back and shoot arrows at the grizzled warrior, and both miss their target.
With a cry to the God of War, Brogann hurls that god's favored weapon at the nearest orc.
The greatsword (presumably) strikes the orc, then flies back to the wizard.
Brogann's sword sails end-over-end through the air and slams into the Orc racing toward Sigrun. The Orc's momentum is completely halted as it is knocked backward by the blade. As the Orc hits the ground, the sword disappears from its body. It convulses and struggles to breath due to the large hole in its chest, but it has not left this world yet.
Sigrun is surprised by the flying sword to be sure. But she recognizes the weapon as Brogann's, besides he'd mentioned throwing the thing around. She doesn't slow down but swerves to go around the downed orc, staying out of his reach as she passes. The thing about orcs is they're too dense to realize when they're dead.
However, there are more archers in the orc band than she had anticipated so she doesn't pause to school the orc on being dead. It's not an easy choice she makes. The closest archer drew some blood, so he's the obvious choice. Sigrun doesn't like the thought of letting it go unanswered.
She decides to go for the drummer instead since it could affect the psychology of the entire battlefield.
Sky Voice taken over by the curse for which he is named shouts in a booming voice.
Sky Voice will than cast Bless (Myself and all allies within a 50ft. burst get +1 attack and +1 to saves vs fear for 1 minute)
Than I will steer Nimble companion to be behind black
Once he has reached that position he will say in Giant
Which is Towering Brothers que to attack.(Towering Brother has Int 6 and thus can understand Language(Specifically Giant) and shouldn't need handle animal check for non-complicated orders.)
Towering Brother hearing Sky Voice's command will charge Black with the benefit of flank.
Edit: Crit Confirm roll
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The large Orc wearing field-plate and brandishing a large great-axe, turns to meet Sky Voice as he comes around the merchant wagon. When its back is turned, Towering Brother plows into him, sweeping his head back and forth. Towering Brother's tusks tear through the Orc's armor and rips it off the brigand with his powerful movement. The Orc bleeds with many wounds and lacerations but it still stands and snarls through the pain as the drum beats continue.
Ah, they are everywhere already! I guess they didn't really want to wait until total darkness.
Cetan slings his bow off of his back, steps around the nearby guard, and fires his first shot at one of the orcs that had breached the perimeter. He's impressed by Sky Voice's first move, but he doesn't seem overly worried yet about how surrounded they are.
Schwertleite begrudgingly salutes Brogann on his cliffside perch before even more begrudgingly beginning to run after the long-legged Sigrún. "Dinnae ye worry - ye hae nae escaped th' doom that is upon ye!" she bellows, picking up speed like a rock rolling down a hillside.
Gabsen tries to keep the wounded and dying orc between him and the archers, hoping to get a tactical advantage
Cetan stares down the orc that breached the wall, putting an arrow through its chest as it stands. The savage looks down at the protruding shaft, but barely seems to notice it in its heightened fury.
The caravan guard nearest the savage drops his crossbow, pulls out his longsword, and slashes his blade across its chest. The leather armor it's wearing shreds like butter and a line of red flows out, melting into the ground at its feet. The distant drums continue and beast seems to feel no pain.
The remaining caravan guards focus on aiding Gabsen and fire bolts at the orc farthest from their commander. Both bolts fly true. The first hits the orc in the gut while the second blasts through the orc's skull. Amazingly, the beast still stands. It drops its bow, and pulls out a dirty, longsword. While still on its feet, it staggers about with an angled bolt sticking through its head.
The other Orc also drops it bow, unsheathes a longsword and moves to surround Gabsen.
When Gabsen shifts his stance to accommodate for the second attacker, the heavily wounded Orc facing Gabsen slashes it wickedly curved sword deep into the warrior's shoulder. When the savage removes the weapon for another chop, Gabsen feels chunks of bone break off as blood pours from the wound.
The three archers outside the perimeter move to intercept Schwertleite and Sigrun. Arrows are released and one nails Sigrun in the gut. The Half-elf looks down at the Orc shaft, as blood pours from her abdomen. She realizes the weapon is made of humanoid bone, crudely chiseled for flight.
The Orc near Brogann stands and staggers closer to the sword thrower, blood cascading out the gaping wound.
The Orc near the the caravan guard lifts its spiked hammer in both hands and swings down, crushing the man where he stands. The guard crumples to the ground, his head caved in from the blow.
After the pummeling by Towering Brother, it is amazing the Orc still stands. As it continues to bleed out, it shakes its head to orientate itself. Turning to see its attacker, it raises his axe at the mammoth and digs the blade deep into the rough hide.
With the arrow hit Sigrun understands she's now dead on her feet. No going back, and impossible odds ahead. It's just a matter of how many minutes pass until the end. Better she make all the mess she can while she can.
She accelerates the last few feet coming at the drummer. So far she'd been holding her greatsword one handed, letting the blade rest on her shoulder. Now she grabs it with her other hand and focuses down on the pain to boost herself to her maximum.
She ignores the archer moving in to her left, nothing to be done about it, it is what it is. When he's within reach, Sugrun brings her sword down in a hard chop into the orc drummer.
The drums continue to thrum, vibrating the ground and driving the orcs into a frenzied bloodlust.
The Orc in the red robes holds something in his hands as he chants in Orc. He moves over to the Orc drumming and touches him on the back.
Hmm, big orc with big hammer. Maybe stay over there. I stay here.
Cetan releases another arrow. The shaft flies true and explodes through the head of the hammer-wielding orc. Its body drops to the ground.
Cetan looks down at the dead orc and then back up through the caravan wagons towards Sky Voice.
Sky Voice, this one have large hammer. You want it?
"Too dumb to know when you're dead?"
Brogann moves down the bluff and fells the orc with a swing from his greatsword.
The spray of blood is less impressive than would be expected, as the orc has already lost a lot of blood.
Sigrun moves, determined to take out the brigands' drummer. She raises her sword, but some compulsion, she does not understand, overwhelms and stops her from driving the blade into her intended target. In her fit of rage, she slashes her greatsword to her left cutting a deep thread of red across the Orc archer from its upper left to its lower right. It staggers back, almost slipping on its own pool of blood now coating the ground.
Brogann moves toward the approaching Orc. With greatsword in hand, his blade beheads the savage and the near bloodless body slumps to the ground.
Schwertleite continues her inexorable approach, raising her warhammer high. "Fur Torag!" she bellows!
In The Creators honor, Schwertleite moves to aid Sigrun and smashes her hammer into the near-dead Orc's skull. It crumbles to the ground; its limited brain-matter leaking out.