Hru rushes down the stairs to catch up with the scouting party laughing to himself.
"Nice! They leave when a guy is in the toilet! Without so much as a horn blast! Hmmn, I guess anouncing our intentions wouldn't exactly be wise, by Gorum! I'll forgive them this time..."
He nearly smashes into Orlan headed back to see to the defense of the spires, but has no time for conversation as he seems to have inadvertently built up a head of steam.
Tarren the Dungeon Master wrote:
So pretty much all the adventurers are following, the trail the orcs took except possibly Orlan?Fer m' part, th' answer's "Aye, cap'n!"
"I as well!"
The party follows the path left by the orcs down the old river bed. It is not hard to follow because the orcs have savaged anything that could be savaged. A skilled ranger might be able to detect a twig bent back when brushed against by a stealthy opponent. Pretty much anyone can follow a trail in which every branch has been hacked at, every animal scared off, and every rock kicked. A few other tell-tale signs: someone named Terk has written his name in the sand with piss; an orc's finger has been set upright on a rock in what appears to be an obscene gesture -- the rest of the hand is no where to be seen but a great deal of blood suggests it might be; someone has left a half-gnawed and undercooked leg of goat, fur intact.
The trail gets harder to follow when you leave the riverbed but you know from Orlan's account where they went last time. Heading in that direction you reach the site of Orlan's battle with the orcs and see he was not exaggerating. One dwarf brought down nearly a dozen orcs leaving charred earth in his wake. Although the prints are hard to follow here, you can see that the wreckage left behind has been recently kicked about.
Hru rushes down the stairs to catch up with the scouting party laughing to himself.
"Nice! They leave when a guy is in the toilet! Without so much as a horn blast! Hmmn, I guess anouncing our intentions wouldn't exactly be wise, by Gorum! I'll forgive them this time..."
He nearly smashes into Orlan headed back to see to the defense of the spires, but has no time for conversation as he seems to have inadvertently built up a head of steam.
Hru comes flying down the stairs so fast he steamrolls over two Kannonfodders. Although they accept his apologies, he is sure that he overhears the dwarven words "bloodfeud," "clan honor," and "vendetta" being muttered as they continue down the stairs. Watch your back, half-orc.
Hru attempts to make up for his trampling of the Kannonfodders but going to the front and taking in the signs.
"oh, I know how to track orcs alright" he comments to no one in particular and then gazes about for some sign.
"Father Gorum give me sign!" he exclaims dejectedly.
Sir Manfred looks around...
Survival check (untrained); Perception check (untrained): (1d20-1=14, 1d20-1=0)
Hru tries using his knowledge of the orcs lifestyle to imagine how they moved through here and when that fails he get's on his hands and knees and begins to snuffle the ground whilst praying to Gorum. Right in the middle of a "Return your serbvnat to the fray Iron Lord, Lord of Lords.." He suddenly comes bolt upright with a peculiar look on his face as if perhaps he's just smelled broccoli.
"They went this way" he says pointing. And Trouble stands 15 ft ahead in the direction he is pointing.
The adventurers are stumped for a moment on which direction to head until Trouble starts twitching and stomping nervously. In the distant west by northwest a thin stream of dark smoke rises in the air. Kelborn soon finds the traces of a trail. Gorum favours Hru by giving him ears to hear the distant sounds of battle: the pounding of axeshafts against shields, the warchants, the piercing screams of the wounded, the triumphant roars of the victor of a skirmish.
Ovirid loads his light crossbow. He begins moving toward the din of battle with Kelborn, planning to see who or what is fighting before committing himself (and his allies). No sense in getting hurt if its two orc clans at war. Better to wait and take out the victors instead.
When he judges they are close enough to be spotted, he will slow down and sneak: Stealth 1d20+8=23
Kelborn smirks at the sight of a dwarf sneaking, but has to admit to himself that he moves well for one of the stout folk as he follows suit. Stealth 1d20+11=26
Perception rolls for Ovirid 1d20+8=18, Kelborn 1d20+6=12
The battle is still quite a distance. It will take you at least 20 minutes to get there if you go all out. Only Hru is able to hear anything and that is because he is a priest of Gorum and Gorum loves war. All of you can see the smoke once it is pointed out to you but it soon disappates. You know what direction to head.
Any other actions before you get there?
I cast mage armor as we begin to move towards the battle.
Kelborn smirks at the sight of a dwarf sneaking, but has to admit to himself that he moves well for one of the stout folk as he follows suit. Stealth 1d20+11=26
Hru draws sword with a laugh.
"Hoo Hooo! Lord, Lay thy hand on the neck of thine enemies. Devour the flesh with thy sword. Bring down the slain from my adversaries, they shall fall to rise no more!"
As they close on the battle he mumurs prayers low in orcish
Sir Manfred shifts his grip on the lance as he anticipates a glorious charge sometime soon. Shrugging his shield into proper place on his left arm, he canters easily on Trouble; nevertheless he carefully maintains a pace even with his compainions.
As they near charging distance Hru halts the group.
"Friends! accept Gorum's blessing for the coming battle! The Iron Lord is with us!"
Kelborn, Ovirid, and Quarrel:
Map is here.
Twenty orcs are engaged in battle with some unseen foe. The orcs are attacking from the cliff on an enemy below. Three of the orcs are involved in loading a pitch-coated catapult bowl with coals, hot shards of metal, boots of dead comrades, pretty much anything that will burn or hurt. Seven more adjust the catapult, stoke a nearby fire, bark orders, or watch over the cliff.
To the left and the right of the catapult crew are groups of heavy crossbow men. Despite a crossbow being more complex than weapons orcs generally prefer, they have seemed to figure out 'load, point, draw, pull trigger'. One of each crew is yelling out commands in an attempt to organize volleys of bolts. The other four are ignoring him and firing at will somewhat randomly.
Scouts:
"'at's a lot o' orcs. Anything they be attackin', Ah'm fer 'elpin', but we need t' be fer evenin' th' odds a might first. Ah'm fer thinkin' we're fer needin' some firepower. What say we get th' mages up 'ere 'n give 'em somethin' t' think about?"
"I can be throwin' a fireball at 'em," I say with some happiness.
"I can be throwin' a fireball at 'em," I say with some happiness.
Waits for King Klyndaks signal to charge.
Tarren:
The three scouts move a bit ahead of the rest of the spires' party to determine what's causing all the noise. They remain hidden behind the ample cover from what lies ahead when Ovirid turns and signals to those waiting:
For Kelborn & Quarrel:
I motion for my group to move up quickly towards the scouts. As we move I grip my bonded warhammer in my hands.
The orcs are so preoccupied in attacking something or things below the cliff that they do not see you approach. Quarrel taps Hru with a smirk and points out an arrow-pocked flag of Gorum fluttering over warmachine. It will not be the first time that both sides in a battle called on Gorum for aid and, if Gorum has his way, will hardly be the last.
Ovirid:
You immediately spot a way to disable the catapult but realize that it would allow the bowl to release. A way to wreck the machine without firing the bowl is trickier but you spot that as well. A well placed lance or spear can interfere with the device that releases the catapult. The orcs could still try to release it but that would take a few seconds.
Trouble whinnies quietly, mischief in his eye.
Sir Manfred will try to find a relatively smooth line of approach so as to be able to make a proper charge attack when the time comes.
I believe the scouts would be best within 30' of the group they are moving up to (on the right).
Sir Manfred will try to find a relatively smooth line of approach so as to be able to make a proper charge attack when the time comes.
Points to his eyes, then
Holds up his right hand, fingers spread, while he points ahead and right with his left hand
.... SNIPPED ....
** spoiler omitted **
Points straight ahead with his right hand before putting his hands together and moving them apart quickly with a questioning look
Yin watches the dwarf with a faint smile as he waves his hands around, the last message however brings a bright grin to her features. Now that one she understood perfectly well, if ever there was a time to test out that newly developed and memorised flaming sphere this was it.
Hru watches the Dwarf's hand signals quizzically.
"Um..right, left or straight ahead..he's going to the right, so I should go straight or left?"
As he slowly starts moving into position to attack he notices the ragged standard of Gorum. Fueled by the divine energies of Gorum, time suddenly stands still for Hru, each second, each breath, an eternity. Images of war eternal and his life play before him as if he had gazed into a scrying pool. Intake of breath. Orcs at war, his youth, and always blood, much blood. Then the forging of the sword and more blood. Exhale. He sees from a high vantage point the Foehammer spires, and they're burning, but from each the standard of Gorum flies. Intake of breath. His vision sweeps down to where he leads and army of orcs against an army of dwarves defending HIS spires...Hail King Hru Gorumgrag and Scourge of the North his troops shout in orc and more blood. He sees his friends corpses mashed into the bloody mud of the field and the chants of GORUM! GORUM! GORUM! BLOOD! BLOOD! Exhale. But now the blood in his veins is on fire and each beat of his heart reverbrates in his head like a war drum. BLOOD! BLOOD BLOOD! GORUM! GORUM! GORUM!
Suddenly, the vision dissolves and Klyndak stands before him, he raises his great blade BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD!
"GORUMMM!!! he screams with unholy passion and charges past Klyndak toward the catapult and standard.
Hearing Hru's screams coming from behind, Kelborn curses under his breath at losing his opportunity at a timely first strike. He will find cover and fire at the nearest orc, hoping to strike before the charging Hru captures their attention.
"Lass, ye be burnin' the catapult," I say to the fireweaver. "I'll handle the urk's workin' it."
And then I proceed to cast a fireball, aiming it at the group of seven (but if possible, hitting both them and the group of three loading).
Initiative: (1d20+1=14)
Fireball: (5d6=20)
"Torag take ye!" I yell as the fireball detonates with a whoosh.
"For Iomedae and King Klyndak, Charge!"
Mounted charge with Lance against one of the catapult crew:
Charge Attack; Mounted Charge Lance damage= (1d20+9=21, 2d8+12=25)
Ovirid will fire his crossbow from 20' at a member of the team on the right.
Attack 1d20+6=9, Normal damage 1d8=6, sneak attack damge 1d6=4
Kelborn, hoping to even up the odds before the knight and the barbarian attract too much attention, attacks 'the nearest orc,' one of the crossbow armed warbands that are firing over the cliff. The orc in question takes the arrow through his shoulder and whirls around in surprise. Ovirid fires, quite coincidentally, at the exact same orc but misses as the orc wanting to see where the arrow came from spins out of the way of Ovirid's bolt.
Manfred and Hru charge into battle against the catapult crew. Manfred's lance tears through one of the catapult crew and sticks for a moment into the catapult behind them. Trouble seems to be enjoying this.
Yintarah's flaming sphere rolls into the party of orcs around the catapult and immediately sets one aflame. Perhaps the heat from the flaming barrels near the catapult that the orcs are using to load the pitch-coated catapult bowl is contributing to the strength of the sphere, because the orc goes up like a candle. She then may recall Klyndak's caution to disable the catapult first.