Sorry, getting near-murdered by a sinus infection this week. Will catch up tomorrow. Thanks for not letting me die!
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Mortoth continues to bleed.
Mortoth heads to the opposite side of the tower, hoping to distract the javelin-throwers from Sam.
Mortoth runs for the roof with the others.
Mortoth runs back out of the tower, circling in an attempt to get behind the new arrivals.
I thought the chainshirt had been claimed, but if it's not been, then Mortoth would definitely like it. Of course, I'm probably not going to change armors in the middle of a fight...
Mortoth circles to the east, hoping to catch the last orc between himself and the rest of the group.
Mortoth steps over to his right, slashing out with his falchion.
Mortoth looks around, trying to spot the source of the drumming. He tightens his grip on his weapon as he heads in its general direction, stepping gingerly into the tower.
Mortoth takes note of the recovered loot, but deems it irrelevant to the situation at hand. The orc looters in the other buildings are more concerning.
Mortoth staggers under the weight of the blow, and tries to cut back - but Pink has replaced Blue, and though the blow lands, it can't finish off Mortoth's intended foe. , ; ,
Mortoth raises his falchion, gripping it securely, then makes a textbook cut at Blue. ,
Mortoth circles the house, pulling out a small vial as he goes and taking a swift drink.
Mortoth keeps pace with Malthu, falchion at the ready.
Sara and Agrit safely on their way back to the Longhouse, Mortoth pushes past the barricade and heads north again, following the main road down the hill.
Well, it took me at least 4 rounds to get SAra to the barricade, but that's my last stated position.
Mortoth helps Sara to her feet, hoping she's not too injured to move, and helps her flee the burning building.
Seeing the trapped woman, Mortoth motions for Agrit to lift the beam. Here's hoping someone else is coming...
Hearing the shouting coming from the back room, Mortoth keeps his mouth closed and the coat collar over his mouth as he moves that way.
Mortoth nods absently at Malthu's words, pausing at the door to the smoke-filled building to take a deep breath and cover his nose with the collar of his jacket before plunging in in search of Sara Morninghawk. Eyes half-closed as he goes, he strains to hear the sound of Sara or Agrit through the chaos.
Mortoth circles the barricade. He sets out on a quick jog, heading for the burning house. When Sam stopped to check on the body, and came to regret it, Mortoth shook his head but didn't stop. Orcs will do far worse before it's over, he thought. There was pity for the man, but he didn't indulge it while focused on his goal.
"Speaking of which," Mortoth points his falchion across the road to the burning house on the far side. "That one there belongs to Morninghawk, the one who runs Clamor. She's helped us, she's a half-orc like us, and the town's going to need their leaders alive to get through this. I'm inclined to see if the place is clear before we head on down the hill. You want to come along?"
Mortoth starts running down the hill, aiming to skirt the barricade around its western edge. He has to slow down as he reaches the debris on the west side of the road, but keeps pushing through.
"Next one's back east, just through the gates," Mortoth points as they move onward.
"Our thanks, but you need to get to the Longhouse now," Mortoth replies, pointing across the way to the large building. "Stay safe, the way Rodrik would have wanted."
"Guess they found what they were looking for anyway," Mortoth mutters to himself as he pulls his falchion out. "Commons, inner gates, Hopespring, got it," he nods, looking around to the others to confirm they are agreeing to aid the town as well.
@Mortoth - Not really - it is a small town, which is typically limited to 1st level spell casting services. There are 2 people in town that can cast it, and one of them is high priestess, Tyari (who you know, but have already used a lot of favors from). You might be able to talk her into it, but she doesn't have the 1 hour casting time free today. I'm perfectly willing to pay the going rate for spellcasting services. I'd like to request Tyari prep it in the morning if her schedule allows, and I will have the 360gp ready to hand.
Any chance of finding someone who can cast masterwork transformation for me in town? Mortoth's falchion has some personal history, and he'd like to keep it rather than sell it if possible.
Mortoth concurs with the idea of seeing what healing and/or hospitality the Sanctuary might offer for the evening.
Drawing the others aside, out of Kurst's hearing, Mortoth says quietly, "Rodrik's funeral will represent an opportunity, one these searchers won't be able to pass up. If we try to search the town while the funeral is going on, we might spot them."
Mortoth nods, but asks again, "We found catacombs holding ashes in the Plague House. Seeing as no one uses it for that purpose anymore, I have to wonder if there's not something similar here within the walls. It's the sort of place one might try to tunnel to - and that would perhaps hide secrets like the ones these traitors are searching for. Do you know of anything like that?"
"We need to get him and word of this pending attack back to Halgra," Mortoth repeats.
"If there's even a chance what he's saying is true," Mortoth grunts, eyeing Daktani with annoyance, "we need to warn the town at once. This isn't about a murder anymore." He leans closer to the cowering half-orc and snarls, "And in case you missed it, boy, it is murder we're talking about. Of Rodrik Grath himself. One your boss Skreed probably committed, and that makes you an accessory. If I were you, I'd see how fast the Inheritor here can redeem your sorry hide. Or if there's anything else you could tell us to help Halgra and Jagrin get into a merciful mood."
Works for me. I'll be taking the PFS route for now.
Mortoth drops his defensive position, pulls his falchion and tries to counter against the troll. ,
"Flood troll, as expected," Mortoth whispers before stepping out into the open. In normal tones, "I'm here to bring you into Trunau and the authorities there to answer for the death of Rodrik Grath."
"Trunauans cremate their dead, right?" Mortoth suddenly says, looking up. "But we found catacombs in the Plague House. Was there a time before Belkzen that Trunau buried or entombed their dead as well? Or are their catacombs within the walls where they store the ashes of the deceased?"
"If our would-be sappers are no longer at the Plague House," Mortoth murmurs aloud, "the only place they might be that we stand a chance of locating them would be here, in town. However, if they are here, within the walls, then they would by definition not need a tunnel to enter the city... unless the tunnel was meant to reach a portion of the town that isn't readily accessible, even to those who can openly walk Trunau's streets."
"Charming," Mortoth mutters to no one in particular.
"Is... or was, at least... someone attempting to tunnel into Trunau from here?" Mortoth asks, looking at the excavation.
Nodding, Mortoth returns to the earlier passage and examines the door.
Mortoth shakes his head, "Never assume until you absolutely have to. All we know is that someone was speaking Giant. More than that is facts we don't actually have, and you try to stand on a scaffold of assumptions I guarantee you'll end up on your ass."
"It's Giant," Mortoth replies, rubbing his tusk. "Trolltongue, you might say. Though the real giants in the Mindspin Mountains speak it too."
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