Sky voice turns his gaze briefly to Cetan hearing his name but not any other words. He turns back to see Towering brother be attacked. His brow furrows and he shouts.
Realizing his anger made him miss he orders Towering brother to attack than flee.
[Spoiler=Hit, flý]"Hit, run"
If the orc falls to TB's attack Sky voice will move to close in on the next Orc. In either case Towering brother is gonna try and get away from combat as per Sky Voices order.
Edit:The forum keeps deleting a missed attack I rolled it was a nat 1 when I previwed it. The text is there when I edit but it doesn't appear when posting. Should I reroll in a new post or just take it as is?
Sky Voice distracts the large Orc, which allows Towering Brother to bulldoze over it as he turns and retreats, squishing the Orc in the movement.
Seeing the unmoving Orc smashed into the dirt, Sky Voice turns Nimble Companion and bolts toward the archers on the ground.
Gabsen tries to finish the orc, aiming the blow at its thigh.
He fights more slowly, more tactically, taking his time.
Still no word escape his mouth, as he keeps his breath
Gabsen slashes down with his longsword and the Orc finally falls.
The caravan guards reload their crossbows and shoot at the Orc that is not adjacent to Gabsen. One bolt hits the savage square in the chest. It staggers for a moment, loses its footing, and tumbles down the side of the cliff. It lays there unmoving.
Sky Voice orders Nimble Companion to attack.
Nimble Companion follows his masters finger to the orc before him but huffs unsure of his voice.
Nimble Companion stops just short of the archer. With a specialized vocal que from Sky Voice, the horse kicks out a hoof. The Orc's chest caves in from the strike. The sound of bones cracking can be heard from several feet away. The savage staggers backward, attempting to suck in air.
Gabsen's remaining opponent moves in for the kill, but the seasoned guard twists, allowing the blade to brush against his armor.
You are again correct I was looking at the DC to teach the trick :p
Or not lol the newer post wasn't showing when I submitted this.
The Orc gasping for breath from Nimble Companion’s assault, drops his bow and unsheathes a crude longsword. It bares its teeth, as if smiling, then coughs, spewing blood everywhere.
The remaining archer intent on protecting their drummer lets out a blood curdling howl. It drops its bow, unsheathes a longsword, and moves to engage Schwertleite and Sigrun.
The Orc in the red robes draws a double-bladed axe attached to its back and moves the flank Schwertleite.
The Dwarf, knowing how Orcs fight, dodges each of the blows.
The drums continue ...
If magic is preventing Sigrun from harming the drummer, she sees only one solution. Kill the source of the magic. She advances on the orc who cast the spell and tries to bury her sword in him, but the arrow in her side is an impediment. Her swing is doesn't go where she wants to to go.
Cetan ducks into the wagon to the East. Having spent days and weeks on this caravan, he knows the angles that their windows provide. He leans down, and squints through the window pointing to the North, and then points his bow through it.
"Aye, let's dance!" With her sturdy shield between herself and the orc behind her, Schwertleite shifts her attention to the raider's priest. "Noo ye'll see how come yer feeble god haes na power!"
Brogann moves towards the battle.
Towering brother not having new orders or seeing any foes close by will get low behind the nearby stones to avoid further assault.
Sky voice will attack the orc in front of him. Nimble companion not having to move will make two hoof attacks.
Cetan’s bow finds more purchase as he buries another arrow into the skull of Gabsen’s foe. Its head snaps back from the blast. When it looks back at Gabsen, its eyes have partially glazed over, but it still moves forward toward the warrior exhibiting a wicked and horrendous grin as it raises its blade.
Sigrun and Schwertleite have a more difficult time taking down their foe. They find that under the red robes of the Orc Shaman, the savage is wearing some type of armor.
Sky Voice and Nimble Companion barrel through another enemy. Sky Voice’s gauntlet caves in the beast’s skull while his horse tramples it into the ground.
Maybe overconfident, Gabsen tries another low attack, hoping to take the legs out of his orcish opponent.
But even on the verge of death, the orc parries easily the blow.
The caravan guard watches as the Orc parries Gabsen sword and raises its weapon for the kill. At that moment, the guard releases his bolt. The Orc stops for a moment with its weapon raised and looks down at the bolt in its chest. Then it raises its head, snarls, and looks at Gabsen. It stands there for a moment motionless, then crumples to the ground.
"Finally dead. Got you good you son of a b%+&@." the guard mutters to himself.
The drummer continues as if in a trance, never noticing his companions falling all round him. Between drum beats he raises his head with his eyes closed and releases blood-curdling wails into the sky.
Schwertleite turns in time to deflect a slashing longsword from the Orc that was behind him.
Sigrun eyes the drummer but is aware of the red robed spellcaster. She deflects his wicked double axe. He snarls at her and the stink of his breath rolls over her. "Nulgreth shall have your blood!"
Skyvoice atop of Nimble Companion will move to flank yellow and attack.
Nimble Companion will follow in his masters example.
Brogann moves up and casts Shield.
Sigrun snorts at the red robed orc's words.
"Nulgreth better hurry then. This arrow is spilling it all on the ground."
The orc's double axe is not an easy barrier to work around, so Sigrun tries going low, swinging her sword at waist-level to him.
Cetan turns around to the opposite window, where he can see the remaining of their forces, and fires at the creature most detached from the crowd.
His confidence is very low as he's over-cautious about hitting caravan guards and other, seemingly non-orc warriors.
"He'll hae tae skelp harder than that if he wants it!" Schwertleite bellows back at the orc priest. "Torag's git mair power in yin o' his wee fingers!"
Sky Voice and Nimble Companion ride up behind the Orc shaman. As he rides past, the Shoanti delivers a gauntleted fist, crushing in the savage’s skull, while his mount lands a back kick, crushing in its chest on the way past.
As the Shaman staggers about from the vicious blows, Sigrun takes the opportunity to slice through its neck. As the body crashes to the ground, offering its blood to the stone beneath, its head rolls several feet. It lands face up, offering a blank stare and wicked grin to the sky.
Schwertleite watches the shaman’s head roll, turns, and smashes her hammer across the face of the remaining archer. It stumbles backward, its face now the texture of a minced-meat pie. As the caravan guards load their crossbows and run toward the remaining orcs, the meat-faced Orc lets out an infernal howl and drives its blade through Schwertleite.
The drums continue to pound ...
Sigrun sees the doomed orc impaling Schwertleite. She figures she should act fast to prevent the orc from killing the dwarven woman if she isn't dead already. Also a quick strike won't give the orc time to recover his blade before it lands.
Sigrun rounds Schwertleite to get to the orc, and with a snarl brings her sword down on him in an overhead chop.
As the crowd shifts Cetan fires his bow at the most open orc engaged with the half-elf warrior.
Gabsen climbs down the cliff, his bloodlust still not satisfied
Brogann finally reaches the battle. He moves up and hurls his greatsword at the drummer.
The blade carves a deep gash in the enemy skald, then flies back to the wizard's hand.
"Ye'll hae tae huv a go harder than that tae break a Bairn o' Stane!" Schwertleite retorts, hanging her hammer on her belt as she steps away from the orc. "Forgefaither, mend mah wounds!" A soft glow emanates from the priest's hand and leaves the flesh underneath whole again - though still bloodsmeared.
The Orc’s head and part of its shoulder slides off the rest of its wretched body, as Sigrun’s sword slices clean through the beast.
Seeing his original target cut through, Cetan refocuses on the drummer. The arrow hits, the beast’s eyes open, and the drumming finally stops. The Skald drops his drumsticks and sneers. As he reaches for the twin handaxes at his belt, a sword crashes through its chest. He reaches for the blade, but as quickly as it arrived, it disappears. Its eyes go wide as it looks around, a trickle of blood dribbling down its chin. With both hands, he grabs the wound at its chest then raises the blood-soaked appendages. He smiles, looks to the sky, and whispers deeply, ”Nulgreth”. Then the Orc falls backward, its glazed over eyes staring skyward. Its blood soaks the ground except for the layer caked on its hands. These face skyward perhaps as an offering to its dark deity.
Quiet now fills the caravan road. The only sound; a stiff wind coming over the Mindspin Mountains.
Sky Voice comes out of his tongues as the drumming stops. He looks around at the carnage of the battlefield and shakes his head.
"Is everyone ok? I have two healing miracles at my disposal for those in need.
Cetan!? I heard you say my name a few moments ago. Unfortunately that was all I caught. The forces at be that grant me my power also curse me with the only the ability to speak a d understand the tongue of giants while stressed or in battle.
BROTHER! Come out it is safe now."
The brawny mage raises his greatsword high.
He begins cleaning off his sword.
"Sigrùn, Schwertleite! Inches from the grave! Blood everywhere! That was most daring, charging the archers like that. And it worked! Gorum's favor shines on you, like polished steel!"
Sigrun is unimpressed with Brogann's bravado. He was too late to the game for engaging in victory whoops as far as she's concerned. He was yards from the grave and still looks crisp and neat. It's all rather shifty to her, and the throwing a sword with magic thing is likewise not conducive to trustworthiness.
She watches and listens without expression while she leans on her sword and draws painful breaths.
That is great. Am I still a thrall for more time or not? I need this arrow removed, it hurts and I am still bleeding."
Cetan pauses for a moment as the calm falls over the battlefield. It is inviting, dangerously so.
Still, he inches out of the wagon, encouraged by Sky Voice's call.
Oh, yes. I had a friend back in the Quah with a similar curse.
He looks around for a moment, recovering the location of the orc with the large hammer, and points towards it.
That one who fell had a large weapon. I thought you might use it. You seem to fight up close.
Finally Cetan looks over Sky Voice's person. Were you harmed? The caravan wagons made a nice perch for archery.
Gabsen ends the life of each fallen orc he meets, bloodying his blade even more.
He takes no pleasure out of the act, but doesn't shrink about the necessity of it. Wounded orcs can still be dangerous, if rescued by their fellows.
Brogann smirks at Sigrún's attitude. Ulfen.
"Not my thrall. Ask Schwertleite. About healing too, I'm no good there."
He calls out to the unknown warrior .
"Sir, I think you will find they are all dead already! That's the thing about the damn orcs, they don't stop fighting until they are well and gone."
"I am no good at 'surgery' but I can knit the flesh with magic"
Skyvoice says toward Sigrun before touching her wound with his magic
Sky Voice will than turn to where Cetan pointed.
"Ah an Earthbreaker yes I can make good use of this."
The Shoanti man's magic doesn't completely heal Sigrun's wound, but it knits enough flesh to push out the arrow. The magic prevents the arrow's evacuation from her side from being painful, but it is still an unpleasant feeling.
It's a considerable improvement over having the projectile catching and poking whenever she moved. Sigrun stretches to her full height to test it, and nods her approval.
"Good enough. The rest will take care of itself. Thanks."
She claps the Shoanti on the shoulder in gratitude.
Better sure than sorry. One of them could play dead.
The man is massive, his eyes cold and dispassionate. There is no grace in his movements as he plunges his sword into the orcs bodies, only ruthless efficiency. He finishes his grim endeavour, then
Gabsen. Who are you?
Even if you fought side by side it's obvious he doesn't trust you totally yet.
"Och shut yer geggy, ye braggart." Schwertleite scowls at the posturing Brogann and smacks him gently with an armored hand. "Ye'll bring doon mair o' thaim oan oor heids. Save it fur th' tavern efter." She grins and holds up one finger. "Ye git yin - YIN - dram oan me th' nicht."
"That is great. Am I still a thrall for more time or not? I need this arrow removed, it hurts and I am still bleeding."
"Ah tellt ye awready - ye'll a 'thrall' 'til ye decide tae graw up 'n' stairt contributing tae th' community." The dwarf shakes her head. "Tis nae a one-and-done deal - ye hae tae constantly pat th' effort in tae keeping th' community safe. Dae that, 'n' th' community wull support ye back. A dinnae ken how come tis sae pernicketie fur ye tae ken."
"Gabsen. Who are you?"
"Ye kin address me as Schwertleite, Bairn o' Stane." Scowling at the wagons, she continues, "We ur fae Trunau, sent tae mak' sure th' caravan fae th' north arrived safely. Ye'r jammy we arrived whin we did, or thare wid hae bin hee haw left o' this caravan." The dwarf pauses to shift her scowl to the warrior. "Especially given yer lack o' judgement."
Clapping her hands, Schwertleite turns her attention to the wagons and drivers. "Noo, let's git movin`!" she bellows.
Sigrun closes her eyes as the dwarf talks, trying to understand her at all and trying to find some patience for what she is able to make out. It seems the dwarf is dense, but Sigrun decides to try one more time, futile as the attempt will probably be.
"Like I have said before, I don't live in your town. I am visiting, passing through. I don't want to live in your town. I am not part of your community. This thralldom is not a lesson, it is a tax. A stupid tax also. I will ask my question in town to someone else. It sounds like neither of you are important enough to be told anything so I will find someone who is later."
Sigrun looks around and sighs. It's been a crappy day so best to try to keep it as short as it can be. The two militia people she's been sent with seem to have little talent for leadership, so she decides she'll have to step in to fill the vacuum.
"I suppose we are all going to town together now? We must get the wagons back on the road and moving right away. Collect your dead man and leave the rest where they are. Scavengers will not be far. We need to be gone when they come."
"GORUM MUST BE PRAISED after a battle, Schwertleite. Brings more trouble if you don't do it." He shrugs. "Or so I've heard. I'm not a priest."
He looks to Sigrún as she... repeats what Schwertleite just said?
Then he looks to the caravan.
"Yeah, uh, what they both said... we should move..."
He looks to Sigrún as she... repeats what Schwertleite just said?
Cetan begins taking stock of the caravan guards, and particularly the drivers. He surely doesn't care to help do that.
He follows Sky Voice out into the opening to see about these new warriors who helped defend them fro the ambush.
Nodding to Schwertleite, Sigrun, and Brogann in turn, he says We thank you. The caravan surely would have been overtaken if only defended by the three of us and stock caravan guards.
He slings his bow back over his shoulder and thumbs the string as he watches others try to interpret Schwertleite.
" Miss Schwertleite was it? I am Sky Voice of the Tower Clan of the Shoanti. I was trained as a diplomat and I would much like to learn your dialect of common and even you native language."
Ha! But who could ever really say for sure?
"Gorum doesn't care wha falls in battle, ye nitwit. He doesn't even waant win fur either side - juist mair fightin' 'n' carnage." Schwertleite's voice is flat as if she's tried to explain this simple concept multiple times to Brogann and he still refuses to understand. "Yell aboot him while battle - he'll lik' that - bit if ye'r aff tae git caught up in an everlasting senseless bloodbath then gang dae it somewhere else. We're heading back tae toun."
The dwarf scowls as both Sigrún and the hell-spawn repeat what she just said. Maybe they're too dense to understand? Or they just need to repeat something before they can understand it? I suppose that's what happens when you grow so tall your head sits in the clouds. Her expression lightens somewhat as the angel-kin approaches with a properly respectful attitude. "O' coorse ye wid," she answers proudly. "Tis a highly-useful trade leid 'n' gey sensible."