Defense of Brookside

Game Master caster4life

The residents of Brookside agree to Hirda's plan, dispersing for the night while the shaman is watched over by Pebbles and the dwarven couple.

The majority of the town responded favorably to Vors' investigations earlier but a few, namely the Golightlys and the Gillmen, objected to giving him information on all of their belongings unless someone can provide a more compelling case in the morning.

Hirda and Noln will keep watch on the shaman in their stable for tonight, where Vors can interrogate him if he has an opportunity.

The night passes uneasily and the town is already stirring when the orange glow of dawn first appears. Most folks are bustling about pitching in. Many are attempting to stay busy while somewhat unsure what they should be doing.

Everyone recovers 1 hp per character level or 2 hp per character level if someone else makes a DC 15 heal check to help them recover more from resting.

Perrin provides care through the night to anyone who asks for it.
Heal: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (19) + 13 = 32

Before the sun starts to peek over the horizon, Perrin has woken and begun to pray. He pleads to his abyssal patron for the power and cunning to weather the oncoming storm, to shield his town from imminent harm. Preparing a new day's worth of spells. When he finishes, he checks on his acidic concoctions, then steps outside to see that the town has come to life.

With bright eyes and a determined stride, Perrin sets out to find the gillmen, the Golightlys, and anyone else who seemed reluctant to disclose their possessions. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he gets to the point.

"Look, I know it seems weird that we're asking you about everything you own. I get it, there are some things you'd rather not share. But, well, can I tell you a story?

When Cyrus went into that last battle, the one that cost him his life, he was already injured. He had been bitten on the leg by a creature in the forest. I bandaged him up as best I could, of course, but he was still limping pretty bad.

And here's the thing: I had a wand that could have healed him fully, could have made his leg just like new. But it could only be used a handful of times, and I didn't use it then, because I didn't know when we might need it even more.

My point is: the resources we have and how we use them, that matters. So if you have anything - anything - that could help us defend the town, please let us know. Someone's life might depend on it."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20

The Golightly's and gillmen listen intently to Perrin's speech, wincing at his description of how and why Cyrus died.

One of the gillmen replies in a wet rasping voice

All right dryman. What's ours is Brookside's. We are sorry we withheld... but we do not quickly trust those who aren't of our kind. Trust has paid us poorly before

Somewhat reluctantly, Goodman Golightly nods in agreement that the town may use his belongings in its defense.

As Perrin returns from speaking to the Golightlys and the gillmen, Mel intercepts him.

"Doctor Perrin," she says. "I was wondering if you could help me locate some supplies. It's obvious that the palisade needs repair, and that's going to take most of the town. I was thinking I could take several of the teenagers and set them to making arrows while the adults work on the wall. We'll probably need lots of arrows, and it'll keep them busy and useful."

"But I'll need supplies. Wood for shafts, preferably cedar or ash, but larch or spruce would do. Feathers obviously, and linen thread for the fletching. I had an order in for a large batch of arrowheads with the town smith -- I hope they're done, because the other option is fire-hardening the points. It's faster, but severely reduces the arrow's punch."

"Anyway, there are several components that you are more likely to have than anyone else: verdigris, pine resin, grain alcohol, pine gum turpentine. Do you happen to have any of those in your alchemical supplies?"

GM, how do you want to handle acquiring supplies for arrows and bow-making?

Top o' th' morning t'ya as well, Sir Orc. Hirda greets the shaman in the morning as he spits in her direction. I'd ask ya what ya knows aboot the rest o' yer clan's plans, if I thought ya'd answer. No worries, I spect Vors'll be along shortly t' persuade ya to give up yer secrets. I must be along t' put our own plan inta action.

She downs a quick breakfast of cheese and hard bread, and waddles her way out to the town square, where several of the townspeople are already gathering. C'mon sleepyheads, this hain't no game. C'mon, knock on them doors, get th' folk up n' ready, wid their weapons.

Once most of the able adults have arrived, Hirda starts splitting them up into archers ("Dex" stats) and fighters ("Str" stats). Lissin up everbuddy, yer either in this group 'ere, if ya can fire a bow, er over there, if ya prefer t' swing a blade. Yeah that's right, the womenfolk too. Now, if ya get yer favorite weapon wid ya, great. If not, we got a small pile we rounded up, so take yer pick. We're gonna spend an hour doin' some practice n' drills, then we gotta start rebuildin' th' wall, n' other preprations. Come afternoon, we'll meet back 'ere t' continue weapons practice.

The shaman stares bitterly at Hirda as she leaves.

The villagers listen earnestly and begin sorting themselves out according to Hirda's instructions.

Let's see if he's cool enough to have these ingredients. Craft (alchemy): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21 Okay, looks like he's pretty cool.

"Ooh, interesting!" Perrin responds. "Let's see... I've definitely got some alcohol, it's real handy for keeping things clean. And I'm sure I've got a bit of verdigris stashed away somewhere as well, it's always collecting on anything copper whenever I make up some acid. I'm making some right now, in fact, so there should be some verdigris you can take." He bites his lip, pacing quickly back and forth. "As for the pine resin, I don't think I've got any on hand, but you can just tap one of those pine trees on the edge of the woods. I'd be happy to distill some into turpentine for you, if you'd like."

As Hirda gathers the villagers to start training them for war, Perrin knows he won't be of much use at the moment. Instead, he pulls the Noltons aside to speak with them privately. "Hey, I know this is asking a lot, but do you think one of you could ride your mule up to Astin to look for help? We need someone we know we can count on."

"Thank you, Doctor," Mel says. "I'll be over to collect those later!"

Parting from Perrin, Mel seeks out Vors. "Are you ready? We have to speak with the shaman. I am not looking forward to this, but we have to know what he knows. I thought about it a little last night before I fell asleep -- here's a list of questions."

She hands Vors a piece of paper, clearly torn from a notebook, with the following questions written on it in a graceful, flowing hand:

- How many orcs are we likely to face?
- What other beasts are they likely to bring to the fight?
- How long have we got before they show up?
- Why did they choose to attack here/now?
- What are their goals? Is it just loot and slaughter, or is there something more?

"According to what I've read, orc society is all about strength. Honor and strength are nearly equivalent, and might makes right -- those who have the power to seize leadership deserve to lead. Raiding simultaneously shows a clan's strength and increases it."

"Showing weakness is evidence of cowardice; cowards lose all honor and respect. Cowards tend to get bullied or killed outright because they are seen as weak, easy targets."

"I suspect there's also a fair bit of ritualized chest-thumping. There've got to be ways for two orcs to face one another down and establish a dominance hierarchy without a lethal fight. If they just fought one another to the death all the time, pretty soon they'd wipe themselves out."

"So, for today's purposes, you need to show that you are stronger than he is, and that you can force him to do what you want. At the same time, he will want to avoid showing weakness. It's a difficult balance to strike -- proving you're stronger while not making him look weak."

"If we're lucky, we can get what we need by making some threats, doing some chest-thumping and reminding him that you destroyed his entire raiding party yesterday despite being outnumbered eight to five. If we're not lucky, well ... you may have to make good on some of those threats." She looks pale at the prospect.

Let's try some Intimidate checks first. Mel is really, really hoping to avoid outright torture.

"I'll take notes." She bites her lip as the approach the building where the orc shaman lies bound. She pauses right before going in, looks at the ground, and takes a deep breath. "Anything else before we go in?"

A little groggy from poor sleep and wounds, Vors nods to Mel. "Aye, let's get this done." He reviews the paper and listens to her reasoning on orc culture. "No cowardice, all strength. Let me grab either his own weapon, or that of his warleader. I'll already be wearing his own armor - that should cow him somewhat."

He thinks a moment more, and then asks, "What are the odds he's going to understand me? I don't speak orc, and if he doesn't speak the common tongue, there'll have to be a lot of pantomiming here, or you'll have to translate."

He'll clap Hirda on the shoulder on her way out, and thank her for her vigilance during the night.

"I don't speak his language either," Mel says. "But Hirda told me he spoke some basic common in the fight yesterday."

"Good. I must've missed it in the midst of the fray. Well, no time like the present, then."

On the way to the holding pen for the shaman, Vors picks up the warleader's greataxe and brings it with him. He thumps the but of the handle on the ground when he comes before the orc, glaring down at the bound prisoner.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23

"You tried orc. You tried and failed. A little town like this should have been easy pickings for you, and you got outmatched by a group of farmers."

Somewhat theatrically, Vors casts the greataxe aside, as though tossing refuse away, and picks up his own halberd. "Now here you are, under my blade. Under my power. So you get a chance to show me how to be remembered by our town. And if you want to have any chance of being remembered - and dying - as a warrior, you're going to answer my questions, right here, right now."

((Here's hoping that's enough to get him! Tried to make it only about 1 minutes worth of talking. Striking that balance was tough! If it works that's Minutes of Cooperation (Friendly): 1d6 ⇒ 4 x 10 = 40 Minutes.))

Mel takes out her journal and scowls at the orc shaman.

Attempt to aid another on the Intimidate check: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (12) - 1 = 11

Yay! There's a shiny +2 aid another bonus.

The orc snarls and recoils, legitimately impressed by the truth behind Vors' words and the old warriors intimidating demeanor. He shifts uncomfortably for a moment, not failing to recognize the weapons and armor employed by Vors.

What mean, me have chance?

Vors takes a gamble. ”You tell me what I want to know, and tell it truthfully, and I’ll give you a chance to choose your fate. If what you tell us gets us through the coming attack alive, I’ll cut your bonds, you can pick up a club, and then you can try to show us the kind of warrior you are. But know this - you’ll get no chance if we don’t make it through this alive. You know your friends aren’t going to let you live if they find you here.”

Not exactly sure how to word it right now. I want to give him the chance to choose his own way after we get through this, and if that means he fights us immediately and we cut him down (or he takes us down with him), then so be it. Does that make sense? Let me know if I can share more info.

The shaman looks at you suspiciously.

Why you so sure friends kill? Why me believe you give club?

”They’re going to think that you talked because you’re still alive, and for that they will think that you failed them. And you probably can’t believe me for sure about your club, but I’d rather kill you when you’re armed than kill you while you’re tied up. Either way, I live, you die, and then I go back to farming. But if you give me information, then maybe you get to die like a warrior instead of a goat headed for slaughter.”

The orc grunts in disgust.

Aaarrrgg. If human survive Ukar, give Halak good death.

Excellent work. No roll required.

WHEW!

Mel takes notes on this confrontation, fervently glad for that elective course on orc culture in college. She'd only taken it to fulfill a requirement, and here it was saving her bacon in the field. If I survive this, she thought to herself, I'll have to send a heartfelt thank-you card to Professor Maddox. And copies of my notes.

She says nothing to interrupt them, and waits, pen poised, for Vors to continue.

I'd just be a distraction interrogating the prisoner. And we've got these greenhorn villagers to turn into warriors. While Vors and Mel are at work on the shaman, Hirda and Noln work on drilling some discipline into the townsfolk.

Now lookee 'ere, we hain't got much time t' play 'round. Ya can work on archery practice n' swordplay this afternoon--fer right now, we're gonna show ya'll some tactics, how t' group up n' pick targets, keep from accidentally killin' each other, n' whatnot. Now I know ya'll may think o' me as a milkmaid, darner o' socks n' babysitter, n' tis true I hain't thought o' war since afore many o' yer granpappies were born, but as a few o' ya may recall, I was 'ere fer the orc wars so long ago, n' fought me share o' orc raiders. Me stalwert 'ubby was 'ere too, bless 'is soul. We was both glad t' ferget those dark days fer a long while, but tis good luck fer ya'll that we 'appen t' be 'ere in yer hour o' need. Ah'm sayin' this cuz I see some o' ya 'ere starin' at me wonderin' what ah'm doin' shoutin' orders at ya, me whose spent most o' the las' hunnert years tendin' cows n' makin' cheese. Trust me, I know what ah'm aboot, n' if ah'm stern wit ya, tis only cuz I love ya'll n' wanna see our proud town survive t' see another day. I'd like nothin' more than be done wid this nonsense n' get back t' milkin' me cows, same as mosta ya'll, I spect. Now then, form up!

The resident of Brookside straighten up and pay attention during Hirda's speech, some visibly eager to learn to defend themselves..

Vors nods approvingly to Halak. ”Good - we understand each other. Now, how many warriors does Ukar have, and how soon are they going to arrive here?”

GM, I’m happy to just list all the questions as Vors would ask them in one post, but if you’d rather go back and forth on each, I can do that, too. Just starting with the one for now, in case.

Let's RP a few questions and see how things go. We can fast track in a bit if necessary. Like Hirda is doing, everyone should feel free to discuss actions outside of the interrogation.

Not sure how many Ukar have. His band some stronger than ours. Have a karak. Orcs attack no-orcs when weak. Favorite time is new moon when darkest but will also choose time when foe seem weakest. Ukar say he a short walk from our camp.

You know the new moon is about 60 hours from now, given that it's around 10 in the morning.

"All right, that's pretty damn soon. Is Ukar looking for something besides loot and pillage? Why's he coming here?"

The orc grunts and winces at some of his partially-recovered wounds as he does so.

Ukar say loot weak no orcs on way to post. No orcs show strong. Is challenge to Ukar. Ukar must meet. Probably think no orcs have some things for taking if no orcs strange strong.

Vors frowns at this and turns to Mel. "So our own ability to defend ourselves is what's bringing this down upon us?"

Back to Halak, the old warrior says, "All right, what does Ukar want with the Post, then? Why is he going there?"

Halak shrugs at this.

Ukar say his scout find rich trading post unprotected. Is strange in west. Orcs in east have easy raiding but orcs in west is hard to find rich, soft prey. Is also strange Ukar send scout far out of orc lands. Gornak think all this strange but when Ukar send paper, Gornak agree to bring axes. Ukar strong leader and clever so Gornak agree.

"Fair enough. Just orcs in Ukar's clan? More of those beast dogs? are there any other beasts that he keeps?"

Orcs and karak.

The shaman grunts somewhat impatiently, having assumed that you completely understood him the first time he said "have a karak."

Have the Noltons given a response about whether one of them would be willing to ride to Astin, once we're done getting information about the attack?

When the conversation is over, Perrin surveys the scene, but he knows that neither military training nor interrogation is his area of expertise. Instead, he returns to his lab and checks on the brewing flasks of acid. In addition, he melts down several of the coins they scavanged from the orc campsite, using the gold to inscribe abyssal runes onto a small stone tablet. Spending 100 gp to craft a CL 4 scroll of invisibility, taking 10 on his Spellcraft check. Once finished, he returns to the rest of the town just in time to begin work on the palisade.

Mel catches the shaman's attention and holds up the birthing bracelet. "Children make the clan strong. Why did a mother with a young child leave to go raiding?"

Aye! I'll ride to Astin if ye need me to!

Lily, for once, agrees with Thomas taking a risk.

The shaman looks Mel up and down and grunts in contempt, apparently refusing to speak to her.

Awright, lissen up then. Archers, y'll be up on top o' the wall. Do'n worry, we're gonna shore up the wall n' the walk so's it do'n collapse, leastways not right away. Space yerselves at least an arms length apart from each other, no use givin' 'em a bunch o' targets all right tergether. Keep yer arrows, er whatever ammo, close at hand. Do'n waste yer ammo firin' at range. Let'em get close so that ya got an easy shot. If ya see any of'em lookin' like they's gonna hurl some magic, concentrate yer fire on that one.

Let me know if I should roll anything to impart knowledge to the townspeople. I assume they already have a single weapon proficiency in whatever weapon they're using.

This training in tactics is going quite fine and your instructions are clear. Is there a specific feat or simple weapon proficiency you are trying to impart?

The shaman looks Mel up and down and grunts in contempt, apparently refusing to speak to her.

A low grumble comes out of Vors, and he growls, ”What of it, Halak? Why’d the brood mother come along for the raid? Was she your mate, or Ukar’s? We’re you that desperate for warriors?”

Halak squirms in discomfort.

Gornak tribe not as strong as was. Ukar say raid will be better than any other. Gornak worried Ukar tribe too much stronger. Need all warriors to get share of loot...

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 17

A look of relief washes over Mel's face as she realizes her elaborate fears of large scale migration were unfounded.

Closely followed by concern at the apparent size of Ukar's tribe.

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 20

Vors nods, satisfied, then indicates Mel. ”All right, Halak. Unless she has other questions, we’ll be done for now. I’m sure we will be back later. You need to eat? Or some grog?”

Halak grunts in confusion and stares at you with narrowed eyes.

Mel hesitates, clearly eager for an opportunity to interview the shaman at length about anything and everything she can think of. But there are other more pressing concerns.

"Just one," she says. "What's your name?"

At Vors' suggestion of food and drink for the prisoner, she nods but adds "He's a spellcaster of some sort, and I don't trust him not to cause trouble. We should make sure he's guarded while he eats, and that his hands are tied again afterwards. Maybe Pebbles and Titania could tend to that?"

Kn (local): 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (11) + 13 = 24

Seeing the shaman's confusion, she adds "Your ways and ours are different, orc -- we do not starve our captives."

This post went through like 4 versions. Sorry for any confusion arising therefrom!

Halak stares at Mel with challenge in his eyes. It would seem she has not earned his respect the way Vors has. He seems about to refuse to answer until he locks eyes with Vors and sees the old warrior's resolve backing Mel up.

Me tribe name "Halak." Birth name "Konon."

He grunts at Mel's explanation.

Tribe starve itself feeding prisoner? Stupid.

Mel's head snaps visibly back at the word. "Stupid?" she says. "Stupid is allowing your tribe to become so poor that they cannot afford to feed one prisoner."

"Stupid is never looking further than the end of a sword to wonder if there might be a better way to live. Stupid is thinking there is only one kind of strength in the world!" Her voice rises to a shout during this diatribe.

Halak spits in Mel's direction.

Talky woman know no strength. Halak know strength. Halak seen strength. Halak seen one karak kill twenty orc. Halak killed two orc with no weapon.

All the passion drains from her suddenly, extinguished like a candle in a draft. "And stupid," she finishes tiredly, "Is arguing color with a blind man when there are dozens of lights to tend and precious little time."

She turns and starts to storm out. But then she pauses by the door and turns her head back. "Vors promised you a chance to die like a warrior," she says. "And you'll get it. But, Halak ... scholars have their own strength." She taps the journal. "Don't you forget it. Because I intend to make sure no one else ever will either."

And with that, she steps outside, slams the door, and rests her head on the wall a few feet away.

On t' our swordsmen then. Er axes, spear, what have ya. Nummer one--guard the gates n' holes in the fence. Let the archers wear 'em out from above as long as the wall holds. Any orc manages t' get across the wall, attack 'im at once. Now, pay no mind t' chivalry er givin' 'em a fair fight. They do'n deserve none o' that, attackin' us as they are. Stab 'em in the back if ya get the chance. Team up two er three aginst one. No more'n three tho, er y'll be gettin' in each others way.