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From the wooden hut, you all hear a deep, resonant Orcish voice shouting: Quickly after, a massive Orcish man in a fur mantle and hide armor comes running out into the courtyard, his massive greatclub swinging intimidatingly.
The magical strikes the wood and splints erupt from the wood, the door shuddering from the strength of the strike.
"Well, plan B then."
Five orcs come pouring out of the wooden hut, all of them lining up to take defensive positions against the incoming intruders. One of the orcs slips out of the tower and bolts toward Finoan, stabbing at the automaton with a nasty-looking knuckle dagger.
Fin dodges the dagger and looks at the large group of Orcs planning to come after him shortly. Then looks over at the door blocking his allies access to the field. "OK. How about plan C."
Finoan starts climbing back over the palisade wall where it meets up with the rock hillside.
Fin jumps up and grabs at the palisade wall. He misses and lands back down on the ground. "Bah. OK. Focus."
He jumps again and grabs the top of the wall. He starts pulling himself over and braces his feet against the rock wall to help.
The rock wall doesn't help. He ends up kicking up another cascade of gravel as his feet slip out from under him again. He nearly loses his grip on the wall, but keeps his claws latched in out of pure determination. He pulls himself up some more, but not enough to get more than his head and chin up above the wall.
He looks over at the rest of his team. "Hey guys. How are things going on your side of the fence?"
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"Fin! I don't like this plan! This was a bad plan! Tell them we want to start over." She remained focused on the big orc, keeping him slowed.
Even with the mighty smash Baradim put into the gate, Drake realizes it's going to take a lot more than that. "Fin's trapped. By the time we get to him..." Looking at Niss and seeing her concentrating on something on the other side of the gate, he looks back to the wall and mutters, "Well, here goes nothing."
Drake takes off for the wall and attempts to climb it.
Fin looks over at Drake as he starts climbing up the other side of the palisade. "Hi. Fancy meeting you here."
"Though seriously, we should probably decide which side of the fence to stick to."
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Taken aback at the number of orcs on the other side of the fence, "Well, if I'm honest, your side sucks way worse than our side, Fin. They say that the grass is always greener on the other side. Well, in this instance, I think I'm going to have to disagree with that sentiment, my feline friend. That is definitely not the side you want to be on right now."
Baradim continues to slam his enchanted blade into the wooden reinforcements, breaking it bit by bit as a one-man siege ram. As he does, his voice bellows out in Orcish.
"A rokonom! Legyen tanúm! Éreztem a halált, és elkerültem a szorítását. Megérintett és megáldott!" His words are punctuated as he smashed again against the gate, the whole thing shuddering from the strike. "Jöjjön Pharasma! Jöjjön Iomedae! Jöjjön Irori! Aldj meg újra, és tégy Halállal!" He cries out in rage, slamming his weapon again.
Niss ground her teeth with the effort of slowing the orc boss, splinters from Baradim's assault on the door flying past her, a few getting stuck in her hair. "Drake, grab Fin and help him over. If we hold at the gate their numbers can't overwhelm us as easily, and boy, do they have the numbers. Loooots of numbers. We may need to fall back."
"That is definitely not the side you want to be on right now."
"Yeah. No argument from me on that. I'm working on it."
From the top of the tower in the keep, several arrows rain down on Finoan.
The nearest orc stows his knuckle dagger and draws a javelin and hurls it at Finoan.
.
Another three orcs make their way into range of Finoan, eyeing the automaton with their weapons out. Two of the orcs stow their daggers and draw javelins, but the other one just pauses to catch his breath after running from the other end of the courtyard.
Lord Nar, pushing angrily against the hundreds of tiny hands, makes his way toward the palisade door, hollering with rage in response to Baradim's shouting. "If you know what's good for you, you'll surrender!" He shouts, a hint of madness edging into his tone. "I am Vilree's chosen! Your death will be a glorious gift!" He lifts one of the beams off of the door and those on the other side can hear it clatter to the ground.
"The chosen of a woman obsessed as an angry, little girl!? Pitiful!" Baradim shouts back, not in a rage but in tactic. The enemy was opening the door for them now, he rage obvious as he strived to get in the way of a foe. He strikes back at the door, his blade splintering more wood.
Another massive gash is left in it, giving Baradim better sight of the raging orc on the other side. He grins viciously, banging his weapon against his shield.
"I have seen the Whispering Tyrant's rise! I lived through the wall of undeath! Come and fight me, little beast! Show me what the little girl's toy can do!" Baradim shouts, lifting his shield ready for battle.
Niss had succeeded in keeping the orc from reaching Fin. Sustaining her grasp now would not do much good, and she suddenly found her position becoming a bit too front-line for her tastes.
Knowing this would prove to be a marathon, and not a sprint, she conserved her power for now. Best to sow as much damage and chaos as she could for the time being. She stirred up twin whirlwinds of rocky debris getting as many orcs within them as she could.
With that, she moved back, away from the soon-to-be-opened gates, closer to Fin and Drake.
All orcs Niss targets are momentarily shocked by Niss’ attack, but they manage to push through it, not taking as much damage as Niss may have intended.
Lord Nar is so caught up in his anger and shouting that Baradim’s taunt seems to spur him on even more rather than make him back down. ”Nyisd ki ezt az ajtót!” He shouts at his soldiers, one of whom rushes up to assist.
The sole orc struggles on his own to remove the second heavy wooden beam and gestures to his companion to get to the other side and assist him with it.
Between the two of them, they’re able to remove the second beam–only one remains, and the portcullis looks as though it will break at any moment under Baradim’s strikes.
The orc closest to Finoan just hanging there backs up a step and keeps his knuckle dagger drawn, eyes trained on the dangling automaton.
The rest of the orcs hold their position, waiting with bated breath to defend the keep and their lord's honor.
Finoan works some more on getting across the wall.
It takes him a bit longer than he would like, but he makes it eventually.
"OK, Drake. Back to plan B. It looks like Baradim almost has that door chopped down."
Fin runs back towards Baradim to provide some support.
Nodding, Drake drops down and makes his way in front of Niss, drawing his sword before looking back at her and saying, "Get ready, sweetheart, there are a ton of orcs on the other side of that gate." Then cutting his attention to their very own warrior orc, "Okay, Baradim, you might want to back up a bit. They're about to open that gate and then the flood is coming. Just giving you a heads up."
Graytusk, at the top of the keep tower, grumbles about losing sight of her quarry and readies a shot at whoever she sees first when the doors either break or are successfully opened by the orcs.
One of the orcs will move in front of the door and attempt to lift the last beam by himself.
It then retreats to allow another orc to try.
The beam hits the ground and the door swings open--the orc retreats out of the way to make room for the others to attack.
The other orcs step back, stow their knuckle daggers, and draw their javelins.
Lord Nar shouts, finally seeing the source of all of the yelling on the other side, and swings his greatclub at Baradim. The first swing misses, but he hits Baradim hard on the backswing. He tries swinging again, but his rage blinds him and he misses.
Niss sees Baradim take a bad hit, and knows many more orcs will be trying to come through her friend momentarily. She draws out her wand and channels it like she'd practiced, healing some of his hurt, hoping it will be enough to keep him on his feet a while longer.
Baradim keeps his shield up but lashes out at the orc that steps within his range, striking with his sword to cleave the warrior down.
The furious orc enters into range of Baradim and for the first strike, Baradim parries the blow away. The back swing catches Baradim's shield and temple though, staggering the warrior hard as he stumbles back and shakes his head. The next attack was barely dodges as Baradim struggled to unring his bells as the world spun.
As his focus blurred, a foreign yet familiar comfort entered into his mind and he could feel his vision clear up. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, the orcish defender would strike back against his assailant.
A burning rage infuses Baradim after being struck and when he sees an opportunity, he seizes it. He thrusts forward with his blade, aiming to delve deep into the orc's stomach. Then he would slash upwards, trying to cleave the man in half.
The opportunity would close itself before he could seize another attack, this time lifting up his shield to protect himself again.
Lord Nar faces down Baradim with his face twisted in grinning rage, riding a brief high after whanging the Lastwall veteran in the temple. The expression vanishes as quickly as it crossed his face as Baradim’s blade pierces the soft tissue of his belly, tearing through his hide armor like butter. Lord Nar gasps, staggering against the force of the blade’s movement, and shrieks with agony as the enchanted sword cleaves through him. He is heavily wounded, but somehow still standing through the sheer force of his rage.
”Használd a gerelyeidet!” The corpulent orc shouts to his men, gesturing at what can be seen of The Princess Guard through the open gate.
The orc nearest the newly-opened gate stabs three times at Baradim despite the fact that the orcish warrior had almost disemboweled his leader.
Only one strike hits, but it stabs Baradim right in a tender spot on his belly after glancing off of his shield.
Another nearby orc steps to the left, putting himself in the line of sight of the entrance where the Princess Guard could be seen. He stows his knuckle dagger and draws a javelin, prepared to throw it as soon as he saw an opening.
In fact, most of the orcs seem to be following this lead - stepping close to where the entrance could be seen and drawing javelins, ready to throw.
Only one orc, the one who attempted to move a board blocking the door earlier, is able to actually toss a javelin, and he aims for Baradim.
The javelin goes sailing by Baradim, however, and lands upright in the soft earth behind the orc.
Lord Nar shouts, finally seeing the source of all of the yelling on the other side, and swings his greatclub at Baradim. The first swing misses, but he hits Baradim hard on the backswing.
Finoan winces in sympathy seeing Baradim take a solid hit like that.
Spitting out a mouthful of blood, the orcish defender would strike back against his assailant.
He thrusts forward with his blade, aiming to delve deep into the orc's stomach. Then he would slash upwards, trying to cleave the man in half.
His eyes widen a bit watching Baradim neatly disembowel the Orc opponent in a display of excellent sword work. "Well, he did warn you."
Fin expects to see the Orc collapse. When he doesn't, but instead calls out to his allies, Fin narrows his eyes. "Hmm... Still got some fight left in you then."
"Burn, then," he calls out and casts ◆◆Produce Flame from the amulet on his armor chest piece.
Seeing his spell go off target, Fin ◆pulls out a flask of Bottled Lightning and watches for an opportune moment to use it.
Seeing the evil orc nearly take Baradim's head off, Drake whispers something unintelligible to his blade and blows a quick puff of air on the edge of it before moving right next to his warrior friend. With his falchion held high and at a angle, he aims for the orc's neck in hopes of removing his head.
Unfortunately, Finoan's flame doesn't find any life on his target and fizzles out.
While for a moment it seems as though Drake had just brought down the massive orc, their foe roars with anger, blood dripping from the many wounds left by both Baradim and Drake's ferocious attacks.
Graytusk, at the top of the tower, aims her longbow and fires off a double shot, aiming at both Baradim and Drake, then follows it up with another shot at Baradim.
Her double shot finds its marks, but the final shot at Baradim goes wide, barely missing Finoan behind the pair engaged in melee.
Two orcs toss their javelins at Baradim and Drake, respectively, but both miss. Both orcs draw another javelin and throw them, too...which also misses.
Another orc rushes forward and takes two stabs at Baradim, but both glance off of his shield.
Lord Nar roars again and takes another swing at Baradim, then Drake, then Baradim again, seeking to eliminate the source of his pain.
While for a moment it seems as though Drake had just brought down the massive orc, their foe roars with anger, blood dripping from the many wounds left by both Baradim and Drake's ferocious attacks.
How is this guy still standing? Fin thinks to himself.
Fin is then distracted from his ruminating by a volley of arrows coming from quite a distance away - with rather dangerous accuracy.
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Niss opens her mouth to warn Drake, and beg Baradim, to fall back a bit. Not to flee -- just a tactical retreat. Force the orcs to come to them, funnel a couple at a time through the gate, use their own wall against them by preventing the javelin throwers from having line of sight.
Then Drake runs towards the horde, and two fast, brutal strikes pay him back for nearly killing their leader. She watches him crumple, and her rage is unleashed.
Hoping that Drake can crawl to cover before anyone else strikes him, Niss wakes him up. Her presence fills his mind, finding him in the darkness, and pulling him back towards the light. "Wake up, love. Wake up, and drink a potion. And maybe stop making me watch you get hacked to pieces? Please?"
Now then. Time to protect Drake, by killing the orc that tried to kill him.
Niss's consciousness withdraws from Drake, and where her mind's touch had gently caressed him, it stabbed into the orc's mind with impunity. "That was my mate you just tried to kill. Fight me if you dare. Touch him again and I will make sure we leave you alive, but with your mind so irreparably damaged you will never be able to feed yourself again. You will die without honor, a wretched, pitiable thing not worth the effort to put down.". Niss had been listening to Baradim during combat these past couple weeks, and she was learning.
Baradim is battered, stabbed, and shot and for a moment, it seems that the warrior will remain standing. In seconds, the orcish warrior has taken hits that would kill any other man but the warrior smashes his greatclub again against Baradim and the mighty orc cannot hold up any longer.
"No...keep...conscious...she's waiting..." Were the last thoughts to pass through Baradim's mind before he collapses onto the ground. His only comforting thought is the anger and ferocity that he hears from his comrades as the darkness takes him.
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Fin watches both of his burly allies go down at the same time. He lets out a primal scream of challenge and prepares for the barrage of attacks he knows will be coming his way next.
Block 1: Baradim
Block 2: Lord Nar
Block 3: Niss
Block 4: Green Orcs, Blue Orcs
Block 5: Drake, Finoan
Block 6: Graytusk, Red Orcs
The orc in front of Baradim's body hears Niss' voice in his mind along with a pain that feels as though someone is taking a cheese grater along his brain. The orc's eyes, ears, and nose begin to bleed profusely, and the words barely register in his mind before he collapses into a heap in front of Baradim's body, destroyed by Niss's attempt to taunt.
The other orc by the gate steps over Baradim's body and moves forward to attack Finoan with his knuckle dagger, attempting to strike twice.
"Tartsd az udvart! Ne üldözd őket! A mi felelősségünk itt van, nem kint!" From the top of the keep tower comes a powerful feminine voice, barking what sounds like an order to those who cannot speak Orcish. Lord Nar whips his head around and glares up at the huntress on the keep tower, snarling in reply, but the other orcs seem to defer to her--they hold their positions and do not attempt to attack any of The Princess Guard who are outside.
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Finoan snarls at the Orc next to him. Then ◆darts past and runs over to Baradim, pulling a long strip of fabric from his belt as he moves. He kneels down next to his friend and quickly binds up the worst of his wounds. "You will not die on me now, soldier. Get up and get moving."
Seeing that he is still holding a bomb, he considers using it. Hitting this guy with it will damage my friends. But not bringing him down will damage them more if he keeps swinging that club at them.
He throws the bomb.
The bottle bounces off the Orc and cracks, but doesn't break. It drops softly into the grass and leaks its contents slowly onto the ground - sparking and sizzling, but doing nothing significant.
Fin looks at the bottle on the grass for a moment. "Well, I guess that is what I get for trusting second-hand items made by someone who is legitimately insane."
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Taking one solid hit from Lord Nar, Drake grunts in pain. "I'm alright!" he informs the others before staring daggers at the orc. "That was nothing. I'm still standing, scum. That the best you got?" Drake taunts and lo and behold, it was not the best the orc had ... unfortunately for the ranger. Dodging left when he should've gone right, he sees the greatclub aimed directly for his skull, "Uh-oh," and the next place Drake finds himself in is oblivion...
On a cool brisk morning, with a slight breeze out of the north, Drake sits in his chair on the front porch drinking his morning coffee. Looking curiously at the beverage in his hand, "Strange. I thought I spilled this." He looks down at his shirt and sees no stain upon it. He then looks at his sleeve and notices the burn mark is also gone. "Hm. Well, that's good. I guess I can relax." Leaning back, he takes a deep breath and smiles, enjoying the silence except for the birds singing.
In the next moment, he narrows his eyes as he hears a voice from what feels like a great distance. "What?" Looking around, he doesn't see anyone. "I wonder who that was? You know, there's something else... something I'm missing - or someone - and for the life of me, I can't seem to remember." His left hand instantly shoots up right above his left eye as he places it hard upon his skull. "Gods my head! What did I do?! By the gods!" He doubles over in pain, dropping his coffee as he falls out of the chair and onto his knees, his hand still pressed tight upon his skull. Then those same words seem to echo once again, but this time, he hears them clearly.
"Wake up, love. Wake up, and drink a potion. And maybe stop making me watch you get hacked to pieces? Please?"
Scanning the area once again and finding it difficult to see, he removes his hand and finds it covered in blood. "Oh gods. I think I'm dying." With his blood streaming down his face, he feels it drip steadily off his chin and watches it hit the ground. His eyes going wide at the sight...
"NISS!" Somehow returned once again to the land of the living, "By the gods, I really hate this town. If I live through this, I will NEVER come back here again. Unless it's an invitation to burn it down." Rising as quickly as he can, Drake backs up, draws a hammer, and launches it right at the orc that seems to wreak devastation with every swing of his club.
Finoan's healing brings Baradim back to consciousness right as Drake stands up and bolts away, tossing a hammer at Lord Nar. The hammer bounces off of the large orc's shoulder, eliciting nothing more than a deep grunt from the man. A few of the orcs inside chuckle a little bit, especially when the flask Finoan throws ineffectually dribbles out onto the earth.
"You are outmatched and outnumbered, intruders. This is your one chance: Retreat, and we will keep Lord Nar from giving chase. Stay, and expect no further mercy. Take a moment to talk, but Nar is impatient," The deep, feminine voice from the top of the tower shouts. If one looks up, one would see a tall, broad Orcish woman standing at the edge, a large bow nocked with two arrows in her hands. Her tusks are large and bite slightly into her cheeks; her dark hair is slicked up into a ponytail.
The rest of the orcs stand with weapons at the ready, awaiting The Princess Guard's decision. Lord Nar grumbles under his breath, antsy to swing his club once more.
Finoan studies the Orcs arrayed against them. Well, I certainly am not going to pass up the opportunity to leave a fight we are losing. Though I'm also not going to pass up an opportunity to milk as much information from them as I can.
Fin raises his now empty hands. "Yeah, you guys certainly seem rather jumpy about seeing a stray cat wandering around - you could have just asked me nicely to leave."
"That wouldn't by chance be due to the rather strange augmented animals that have been wandering around, would it? You are aware of them, I assume?"
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"Anyway, yeah. It looks like you guys are more than capable of protecting yourselves from ice-throwing rats, blood sucking plants, and other such things..." Fin looks around at the party members. Drake up and moving, but only barely. Baradim still picking himself up from the ground. And Niss - Uh oh.
"Niss. It's OK. They are going to let us leave as long as we stop fighting them. Look. I'm fine. Drake is ... good enough. Baradim is getting back up too." He walks over slowly and grabs hold of one of her hands and holds it. "Put the artillery away."
From the top of the tower, Graytusk adjusts the bow in her hands, raising an eyebrow at the automaton's words. She does not reply, just adjusts her stance to be ready to raise her bow should they take much longer to make their decision.
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Baradim's eyes weakly open as he sits up slowly, spitting out another wad of saliva and blood before standing up warily. His arms are tired, heavy, and slow. He steadies himself for a moment, weary eyes looking over the fortified position of their enemy.
"Your master wishes to slay children, the infirm, the innocent! She is not worthy of such devotion." Baradim shouts, slowly lowering his shield downwards as he takes a step back. "Belzken's Hold is no more, you do not need to cling to its violent ways. We can be better."
Finoan's words catch in his ear and he turns his head, looking back at the fierce woman. Through his bloody tusks, he grins and gives a small nod.
"Listen to the cat-man, he is right. We shall be alright. Any battle you can walk away from is a victory in some way." Baradim says, stepping backwards but never showing his back to the enemy. He raises his blade to point at Lord Nar, nodding. "You are chosen, you say. Chosen for what though. Think on it, kin."
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An angry reddish glow had surrounded Niss as she channeled her power, her rage and worry mixing into a torrent that she could barely hold her grip on. It was like lassoing a bull, and trying to cling to the beast as it ran rampant.
After melting the one orc's brain -- which had shocked her, as she'd intended merely to distract him from Drake -- the power had been building to a crescendo within her. She couldn't restrain it now... but she could redirect it.
At the words of caution from Fin, she looked to Drake. He was standing, albeit badly injured. Baradim, his face still painted with the mask of death, also urged an end to the violence. She felt like she would burst at the seams, and she could hold the magic no longer. But instead of raining death upon the orcs, and likely getting the Princess Guard killed shortly thereafter, she turned it on her friends.
The power leaves her in a rush, and in that moment she's hit by the searing headache that always follows, her shoulders slumping with exhaustion a moment after that. She grits her teeth and remains on her feet, but is noticeably unsteady as she follows Baradim's example and begins to move away.
"Visszavonulnak. Engedd el őket. Fékezze meg Lord Nar," The Orcish woman calls to the veritable army in the courtyard. Her expression is difficult to read, but she seems satisfied with the result.
She stays at the top of the tower watching the Princess Guard's retreat as the orcs pile onto the giant, raging Orc Lord to keep him from giving chase. After a few moments, the man seems to calm down and shakes free from the restraints, snarling at Baradim's parting words.
The Princess Guard's horses are where they left them, albeit a little bit skittish about their environs.
Fighting hard to remain upright, Drake breathes a silent sigh of relief that they are at least willing to talk. Thank the gods. He swallows hard, half of his face covered in his blood. Fortunately, the bleeding stopped with Niss's initial healing.
Seeing Baradim rise, Drake breathes another sigh of relief. Baradim's up. Boy, that's a relief. Now, we just need to get out of here if they'll let us.
In the next instant, he feels several of his wounds heal. Knowing full well where that power is coming from, he looks over at Niss and sees her struggling to stand. Quickly making his way over to her, he places an arm around her back just above her waist and gently takes her arm with his other hand. "I gotcha, sweetheart. I'm here for you. Use me as a crutch if you need to."
Looking up at the others, "If they aren't going to kill us then let's get back to our horses and head back to town. Niss, you can ride with me. I should've had you ride with me on the way here. We'll just pull the other horse along with us."
Fin is somewhat somber as he follows the group back to the horses and back to town.
"OK, Baradim. Can you explain things a bit. Some of these Orcs are kept as slaves and are happy to be freed. Some are practically slaves, but are happy to be in the position that they are in. Others seem almost fanatically loyal and wouldn't leave if you forced them to. I would understand it if we were talking about different groups of people. But these ones are all associated with Vilree. How can she end up having such wildly different reactions from them."
"I guess, more importantly, what are we going to do about these ones we just met. They let us live when they didn't really need to. I don't want to repay that kindness by killing them all. But I also don't want to leave Vilree there to plot and scheme and build more horrors."
"So what is your take on the matter?"
Baradim is quiet as they begin to fall back, the protective instinct in him remaining until he was sure that they were out of range of the javelin. Even then, he stayed close enough that should an arrow come, it'd have to go through him. The orcs stayed though, their weapons lowered even as Lord Nar roared in impotence at being held back.
Sheathing his blade, Baradim is quiet as he goes over what had gone right and what had gone wrong in the battle. Lord Nar seemed to leave his weak hand's side open to counter-attacks but the sheer force and speed at which he wielded his maul was underestimated. The warrior wasn't even sure if he could even keep up with it.
When Finoan spoke to him, it was almost as if the orc hadn't heard him. They had travelled with Baradim long enough though that they knew the man liked to speak directly and use as few words as possible. Taking a breath, he answered as best as he could.
"The tribes of the hold were as varied as human cultures; though violence was usually at the heart of it all. Even the kindest tribes survived on equal parts of raiding and trading, others through slavery and raids. For some, slavery is just part of life and even a chance to impress their masters to rise above the chains. The oppressed becomes the oppressor. Enough are given such a chance and it becomes the dream rather than escape."
"We give them the same courtesy; when they are beaten we offer surrender. Those who do not are struck down. Those that do are allowed the chance to flee." He answers simply, shaking his head. "However, there seems to be a power difference. The woman understood her position of power. Lord Nar wished only for bloodshed. She may be reasonable, he is a zealot."
"If we attack again, we will need to change the circumstances. Attack at night, preferably from the cliffside. We may need to resupply. With proper arrows or tools, we could set some of the fort aflame as a distraction as well." Baradim mused, rubbing his chin. "There is potential in all of it there. I am unsure though. A forward attack seems foolish and we will not be offered a second mercy." There was obvious something troubling the orc as he traveled with them, his scowl deep even for having been beaten.
"We recovered well and learned well. We know their numbers, their tactics, and can predict responses. It is...a defeat...but not a costly one." Baradim says, as much for himself as it was for the others. "I...grew overconfident and nearly jeopardized your lives for it. For that, I apologize."
"We give them the same courtesy; when they are beaten we offer surrender. Those who do not are struck down. Those that do are allowed the chance to flee."
Fin nods at that. "That feels right to me. Thank you."
"I...grew overconfident and nearly jeopardized your lives for it. For that, I apologize."
"You aren't the only one. I keep forgetting that I have not properly kept up on my training. I am not the expert infiltrator that I once was. I keep trying to be... And forgetting that I can't just cut and run without leaving you behind."
"I will do better."
Niss took the offered support but looked to him with concern. "Are you alright?". Her voice cracked a bit, nerves raw from the emotions she'd been channeling. She looked to the others. "Baradim, I'm sorry, if I'd channeled more strongly sooner you might have stayed on your feet."
They got to the horses and she gratefully let Drake pull her into his saddle, momentarily unfit to remain in one herself. She clutched the arm he put around her possessively, fighting off the knowledge that once again, he'd been at the brink of death. They all had, really. The Princess Guard had met a fight they couldn't win.
She listened to Fin and Baradim as they retreated to safety, and town. She found herself about to answer Fin's questions when Baradim beat her to it, but she nodded along with his words. As a former slave, she'd met all the types they were discussing. She herself was one of the first sort, eager to escape and grateful for freedom. But she'd known others every bit as subjugated as herself who would spy for their mistress, and report misdeeds of others to her to gain her favor. Some that even fawned over the horrible woman.
Niss appreciated Baradim's take on their defeat. It felt awful, but he was right. They were very lucky, and had learned a great deal. Next time would be different. At their apologies and professions of doing better, she chimed in. "I nearly threw away our chance at escape. I let the powers control me, rather than remaining in control of the power. Thank you both for snapping me out of it."
At some point shortly thereafter, eased by the swaying gait of the horse and Drake's warmth, she dozed off for a while.
Niss took the offered support but looked to him with concern. "Are you alright?". Her voice cracked a bit, nerves raw from the emotions she'd been channeling.
Grinning, "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm still breathing so I won't complain." He chuckles lightly.
Speaking to them all, "And I'm sorry for using my skull as a shield for that orc's greatclub." He winks, cringing slightly. He quickly finds out that a mere wink still causes him a bit of pain. "Sorry ... sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood. Look, all, those odds were completely against us. We never stood a chance. It wouldn't have mattered what any of us could have done better or differently, we weren't going to win. That Nar fellow hit me twice... twice! - I think? - and that's the last thing I remember before waking up. Although, even that's a bit fuzzy. And that was just ONE orc who put both myself and Baradim on the ground. We have to put that into perspective. I'm just glad they let us go, otherwise, we wouldn't be talking right now. But they did. And just as Baradim said, we'll learn from it and be better prepared for it next time. And I assure you when that next time comes, the outcome will be different, I've absolutely no doubt." He states with sheer conviction.
The Princess Guard’s trip back to Etran’s Folly is somber and introspective as they think about and discuss what they can learn from their struggles and failures in the day’s attack on Spite’s Cradle.
It is early afternoon when you leave and approaching evening when you arrive, five hours later, back in Etran’s Folly. As you approach the caravan’s camping spot–one that is starting to look more and more “homey” as the days pass–Sir Lawren is the first to spot you all from where he is fiddling with a knot on the wagon cover. It seems he is re-attaching the covers in preparation to leave at some point…or just practicing, as he is not really well-versed in the caravan life.
He looks momentarily bewildered at your appearance; nobody expected you all back so soon. He gives a small wave and then leans around the side of the wagon to shout for Tamli. After a moment, the half-orc woman appears, fingers uncharacteristically stained with ink, and looking mildly irritated at the interruption. She catches sight of you all and raises an eyebrow, resting her large hands on her hips to inspect the group’s appearance as you all approach.
”You’re back early.” She states, an unspoken question of "What happened?” hanging in the air. She moves to meet you all and takes the reins of Baradim’s horse, stopping the beast gently with an experienced hand. Sir Lawren finishes the knot and moves to help with Drake and Niss’s horse, although his movements are much more hesitant.
Fin climbs down from his horse and unhooks the lead rope guiding Niss's horse. He offers to take the entire lot of horses over to the stables. He notably avoids answering Tamli's question.
"I'll see you guys around. I have some things I need to practice. And some other things I need to try and remember. Meet for dinner here, or at the Feedmill?"
Lowering himself off of the horse and then helping Niss down, "Feedmill sounds good. We'll see you there, Fin."
”You’re back early.” She states, an unspoken question of "What happened?” hanging in the air. She moves to meet you all and takes the reins of Baradim’s horse, stopping the beast gently with an experienced hand. Sir Lawren finishes the knot and moves to help with Drake and Niss’s horse, although his movements are much more hesitant.
Scratching the back of his head in awkwardness before letting out a sigh, "Well, Tamli, to put it bluntly... we got our butts kicked. Simple as that. And it didn't take long either. There is this orc who turned into some kind of rage monster and dropped me like a rock in only a couple of swings. Outside of him, there were only about twelve or fifteen more to deal with, not to mention the leader. She didn't look like a pushover either. We were outclassed in every way. It was... embarrassing if I'm honest. The only reason we're alive now is because they allowed it. They could've easily finished us off." Taking a moment to think of anything else that might be relevant, he shakes his head and says, "That's pretty much the gist of it," before shrugging.
Everyone was so down. When one's source of power lay in emotions, one was keenly aware of how others felt, and Niss felt the air was palpable with the humility of defeat. She'd spent the ride back deep in thought, though, and had a plan. She needed a few things first.
"Here," she answered Fin. "Here feels more like home." Dinner. That should work. That should give her enough time.
She gave Drake's hand a little squeeze and flashed a smile, but kept careful hold on her feelings, not wishing to give anything away through their bond. "You should rest a bit. I may have healed you some but the body needs time to recover from that much trauma. I'll join you in a bit, I need to take care of something. Don't worry I'm not leaving camp, just need to talk to the others for a bit. I won't be far."
She needed to talk to Tamli, but figured Baradim did, too. So it was to Ulf and Olf she wandered to first...
"Feedmill sounds good. We'll see you there, Fin."
"Here," she answered Fin. "Here feels more like home."
Fin chuckles and shakes his head a bit. "So glad we are in agreement."
"Let's do as our princess suggests and meet for dinner here at the camp then." He looks to Baradim. "Unless you have any objections."
Everyone was so down. When one's source of power lay in emotions, one was keenly aware of how others felt, and Niss felt the air was palpable with the humility of defeat. She'd spent the ride back deep in thought, though, and had a plan. She needed a few things first.
"Here," she answered Fin. "Here feels more like home." Dinner. That should work. That should give her enough time.
"Let's do as our princess suggests and meet for dinner here at the camp then." He looks to Baradim. "Unless you have any objections."
Smiling, "Yeah, no, here is fine. Fine with me, Fin. We'll be here when you get back."
She gave Drake's hand a little squeeze and flashed a smile, but kept careful hold on her feelings, not wishing to give anything away through their bond. "You should rest a bit. I may have healed you some but the body needs time to recover from that much trauma. I'll join you in a bit, I need to take care of something. Don't worry I'm not leaving camp, just need to talk to the others for a bit. I won't be far."
Nodding, "Yeah sure, okay. I'll just ummm, I'll just be here." He tells her, grinning tiredly. Watching Niss leave, he finds a place to rest and leans back, looking in the direction she went. I wonder what that's all about? That sounded... I don't know... a bit ominous. I hope everything is okay. I'm sure it is. If it wasn't she'd tell me. Yeah, everything is good. I don't know why I'm worried. As Drake works to convince himself, he still can't help but feel a bit of trepidation.