5th Day of Tarsakh in the Year of the Sudden Journey Leaving the perils of the Stonemarch behind them, the group head east and north to meet up with
Altair's Talons at the northern range of the Cairngorm mountains. A lone peak with a
shattered outcrop awaits them for the meeting point; before they attempt to cross the mountains
through the orc-guarded pass and finally reach the Nentir Vale. Finding a magic circle within the foothills they start a chain of events with the music of the wind
that ends in a blast of lightning and thunder. Reeling from the shock they recover to see an insurgence
of goblinkind that ends in a battle that they just about win. From the blast is born a female dwarf and
the group take her under their wing before travelling north in the mountainous foothills to find the
meeting place with the Talons. There they find the Talons under siege and combat the orcs that harass them, but not before one of the
ogres in the foes' group collapses the cave entrance that many of the Talons may be sheltering
in.
This scene started on Sunday 27th June 2021 and was completed by the end of Sunday 25th July 2021.
Storyline Cairngorm Foothills
Tradden sheathed his other sword as the dragonborn started to dig away, frantically. Realising this had to
be treated delicately and in the right way, he stepped over to Khalin, who was stowing Aecris away.
The dwarf met the human's eye as Tradden leaned in, whispering. ‘Maybe a word… leader to
leader, you know. Might work. If I try to pull him back he will take a swing at me. We will clear it, but
we have to do it right.’
Khalin moved inwards to join the others at the scene of the collapse, nodding at Tradden's words.
At that point, Brünhilde trotted over and Tradden's attention moved to her. He looked up, addressing
the other dwarf as she approached, almost as quickly as Khalin.
The marshal got his words out before Tradden could speak. ‘Back at the circle you were able to move
the earth and rock with magic. Would you be able to do the same here?" he offered, before putting a
reassuring hand on Rhasgar's shoulder, as the dragonborn knelt before the rubble.
‘Yes, Brünhilde,’ Tradden quickly followed. ‘You did some… impressive work with
those pillars back at the circle. Almost as if you were in control of the stones themselves. I think
Rhasghar's friends‘ our friends, are trapped behind.’
Zero trotted up to where his friends were gathered, in urgent debate. Not sure what to do in such a
situation, he put on a similarly serious face and nodded keenly.
Brünhilde looked at the rockfall, then carefully placed a boot against one of the fallen rocks at about her
waist height and applied a small amount of pressure.
She seemed to almost listen to the rocks before grunting. Without even looking at the young human, she held
out her hand and said, ‘A torch, flint and tinder, please.’
Tradden paused for a moment, possibly thinking of something funny to say. But perhaps something in the
matriarchal dwarf's look gave him pause, and he nodded and just said, ‘No problem,’ and
handed Brünhilde a torch, flint and some tinder.
‘Thank you,’ she responded then stood before the rock fall, considering it carefully. After a
moment, she started to shift again, growing smaller. Even as her form shifted, she started to climb the
fallen rocks. In moments the dwarf, her armour, maul and the torch dwindled into something small and hard
to spot as it slid into a small gap in the fallen rocks.
Brünhilde's forked tongue flicked as she tasted the air. There was a hint of oil and wood smoke from
somewhere ahead. She weaved and pushed ahead, finding the softer soil in amongst the rocks. It took some
time to progress. The rock fall was deeper than she had thought. That might put her plan to blast the debris
outwards in jeopardy. Still she pressed on.
Presently, she broke through into a cave. She could see several forms and hear conversation. It looked like
someone was party trapped under the rock fall. They would have no idea she was coming, so she needed to make
sure no-one accidentally stepped on her. She kept to the shadows and slid her grass-snake form down, onto a
cart, and then to the floor of the cave. There was illumination from a single torch in the cave, and she
moved to the back and into the shadow.
There she let the animal form go and quickly grew back into her natural form. Stepping forward, into the
light, her hands held out she said, ‘Hello. Don't be alarmed. I am Brünhilde. I am with
Khalin's group. I have come from the other side.’
The figures snapped round, surprised by the dwarf's voice. ‘Khalin?’ one of them asked,
a tall human lady with dark hair and eyes bright in the torchlight. ‘We need to get out, and
quickly,’ she continued. ‘It's Borik,‘ she pointed behind her to an old dwarf on the
floor near the rubble of the cave-in being tended to by a giant of a man and a bedevilled creature that
Brünhilde's eyes widened at.
Alongside the giant and the horned figure was a lithe man and a little girl and to the side, digging at the
rubble to the side was another dwarf.
‘They're just outside,’ Brünhilde stated, eyeing up the soil and stones from the inside,
contemplating her original plan.
‘Rhasgar? And Bekio? We heard Rhasgar shouting but then that ogre blocked our
exit — kept us at bay and then brought the roof down.‘
‘Also out there,’ Brünhilde guessed. One of those might be the dragon-man, but she was't
sure where the other one was — now was probably not the time to go into detail. ‘We
need to get you out of here, then,’ she continued and began to study the blockage and plan her next
move.
Tradden looked on, slack-jawed as Brünhilde effectively disappeared into the rocks and earth.
‘Wow!’ he exclaimed, after a moment. ‘What do you think she is going to do?’ he
continued as he knelt down next to the landslide and put his ear to one of the rocks, to see if he could
hear anything on the other side.
The lady with the dark hair and bright eyes quickly introduced herself as Miri and pointed out the
others in the torch-lit cave: Aukan, the giant; Rangrim, the rough-looking dwarf digging in the rubble;
Sorrow, the horned and bedevilled-looking creature that Brünhilde was still not sure about; Lee, the
human with the top-knot on his head; and finally Iolanthe, the little girl, who just looked frightened.
The old injured dwarf, being tended to by Sorrow and Aukan, was, of course, Borik, who Aukan lifted
easily from the rubble-strewn ground in his arms and turned to venture further back into the chamber,
away from the cave-in.
Lee was trying to move the oxen back and push the cart further into the cave to clear some more room,
softly intoning the names “Gaur” and “Zebu” in an effort to get the stubborn
beasts, that were braying in annoyance, to backtrack.
Miri turned back to Brünhilde once she had introduced everyone. ‘So, you have a plan to help get
us out of here, right?’ she asked.
The human looked around, awkwardly trying to avoid the gaze of the dragonborn. ‘Well, good
news, I can hear someone behind all that. Bad news, it sounds like, erm, screaming…’
Not knowing what else to say, the fighter went back to listening at the rock.
Brünhilde looked at the young woman. ‘Yes, I have a plan. And if that does not work, I have another
plan. But first things first.’
She moved to the back of the cave where the old dwarf had been laid. She did not wait, or converse with
the huge man, but started chanting in Dwarvish, her hands glowing softly.
[Brünhilde: Cure Wounds]
[Borik is healed 1d8+3: 7 hit points] and [No longer Dying]
She placed them on her injured kinsman and let the healing magics flow through him. She waited as his
breathing eased a little, but realised something was still amiss.
[Brünhilde: Medicine Check: 1d20+6: 17] – success!
She took a little longer to study the dwarf, watching his breathing and how he moved, and carefully
feeling around his body and seeing how and when he flinched. The big, white man asked if the dwarf
was going to be alright. She held up her hand and quietly said, ‘I'm working on it,’ not
yet sure if he would be.
She looked back at the rockfall. Using more spells to further heal the dwarf might lessen her chances of
getting them all out quickly. But at least no-one would die. She turned back to the prone figure and
started to chant again.
[Brünhilde: Cure Wounds]
[Borik is healed 2d8+3: 11 hit points] and [No longer Bloodied]
This time her hands glowed more strongly as she laid them on the old dwarf. After a few moments, he
visibly relaxed. Whatever was damaged deep inside was healed.
‘Enough laying about now, Brâghafarthen,’ she said, using an old clan word for respected
grandfather or elder. ‘We might be needing to put on a display of our kin's finest mining
techniques for your friends.’
The old dwarf's eyes opened and looked up at Brünhilde. He gave a faint smile and reached out his hand
to clasp her shoulder, the tattoos on his wrists of manacles clearly visible. ‘Thank you,’ he
rasped through slowly calming breaths.
He tried to rise and get closer to Brünhilde, almost as if he were about to kiss her cheek, staying for a
moment, before slumping back down and exhaling loudly.
In the flickering torchlight Brünhilde could see all of the faces of the Talons looking expectantly
at her.
Khalin looked alarmed at Tradden's proclamation and hurried to the young human's side. Dropping
to a knee he lifted his helmet off and pressed an ear to the fallen rock and soil.
[Khalin: Perception Check: 1d20+3: 15] – success!
The marshal squinted and screwed his face up in concentration before rising up again.
‘I can't hear any screaming, but I can hear what sounds like alarmed oxen!’ he concluded.
The dwarf rubbed his beard in thought. ‘Maybe we should get back,’ he suggested. ‘I
doubt Brünhilde can turn the others into snakes,’ though he conceded to himself it wouldn't
be that surprising for his remarkable kinswoman, ‘so my guess is they're going to dig or
push their way out.’
Brünhilde stood and looked back at the assembled Talons. ‘Everyone get to the back of the cave.
As far back as you can. I'm going to try and blast the debris outwards but some of that force might get
reflected back at us.’
As the Talons started to move themselves, the oxen, cart and their belongings away from the rock fall,
Brünhilde again looked at it, trying to discern the best point to cast from. She also looked at the walls
and roof of the cavern. The last thing she wanted to do was have the force of her spell rebuffed from the
rock fall and redirected into the rest of the cave and bring the whole thing down on them.
It looked sturdy, but without spending a lot more time, there was no real way to be sure.
Presently, the Talons had moved back and stood watching her. She had to admit she was not overly
impressed with them. They did not seem to be very resourceful. She had expected some sort of challenge to
her appearing and starting giving instructions, but there had been none. The lizardman outside seemed to be
the leader both in combat and in decision making. But now she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on
the task at hand. At the very least creating a hole big enough for the torch smoke to escape and fresh air
to get in. That would buy them time.
Brünhilde took a firm wide stance before the rockfall. She brought the words and gestures to mind for a
Thunderwave. Then, before casting, almost as an afterthought, she turned her head a little and said,
‘You might want to cover your ears." Then she began the casting.
[Brünhilde: Thunderwave]
[Cube 15ft centred on Rockfall] with [Damage: 2d8: 3]
A few seconds later as the last words of the dweomer left her lips, and she spread her fingers wide, a wall
of force blasted out in all directions from her. With the dust and smoke partly filling the cave she could
see the wave as it smashed out in the blink of an eye. It reverberated off the walls and roof, dust falling
from above. The blast hit the rockfall before her and rebounded, sending her plaited and deadlocked hair
flying. But she stood her ground. Ahead the debris rippled and shifted as the brunt of the force passed
through the blockage. The rockfall was thick and resisted being blasted outwards, but enough moved to
destabilise and collapse it further.
As the last booming echoes of the spell faded away, Brünhilde's ears where ringing, but she gave a
broad smile as a shaft of golden sunlight bathed her face.
[Inspiration]
[Brünhilde gains Inspiration]
She looked up and the cave seemed stable and not at risk of collapsing. She turned to the Talon's
behind her and said with a reassuring smile, ‘Come on then, you lot. We've got some digging to
do!’
Outside the cave the onlookers saw the rocks and soil shiver violently for a second, then crumble and ripple
outwards as though it were a river breaking its dam. The effect was short, though, and once again the ground
was still.
At the top of the rockfall a gap could be seen, and torchlight in the darkness within. The path had been
cleared! If the cart was in there, however, there would be a little digging to do to get it out.
Digging sounded like a lot of dirty (not to mention, hard) work. Zero quietly slipped away to one side,
pretending he never heard the request about digging, heading over to check on the dead orcs.
He gave a small kick at the war chief and had a look to see if anything was interesting.
[Zero: Investigation Check: 1d20+2: 7] – failure!
The war chief was slightly more flamboyantly dressed than the other orcs if you counted a couple of odd,
unidentifiable feathers secured to its scalp and a nice necklace of teeth, probably dwarven. It wore a
crossbow bolt in its thigh up to its fletchings and another one straight through its kidney. Zero admired
the skill of the shots. It wore a worn, but serviceable chain shirt and not far from its outstretched arm on
the floor was a huge spear.
Zero gave the body a quick pat down with a grimace, but didn't turn anything else interesting up.
As the two groups worked from opposite sides to clear the rubble from the mouth of the cave and free the
wagon, Khalin quizzed his counterpart Rhasgar on what had led the Talons into their predicament.
‘Had you been waiting long for us? And what has become of Bekio?’ he enquired as he worked.
‘Bekio!?’ Rhasgar rasped, his head jerking up. ‘The Nine Hells. With the cave-in, He'd
slipped my mind!’
The dragonborn stood, leaving the dirt and rubble at his feet and scoured the clearing, before heading
quickly across to Zero and pulling the rogue up and away from the orc war chief's body by the hood
of his cloak.
‘C'mon, Zero,’ Rhasgar growled as he headed to the east. ‘Let's see if we can
find Bekio.’
The pair, one of them seemingly reluctantly, crossed the clearing swiftly and climbed the embankment near
the smoking trees, Rhasgar helping the puffing rogue up the slope who kept slipping on the flaky soil.
The reached the top and then looked around before heading into the brush and trees whilst the others
continued to dig.
Rhasgar and Zero searched the trees and the bushes off to the west, keeping quiet where they could lest there
were any further orcs, and calling out when they were able to find the missing halfling. They searched for
some time, circling round to the north and starting back to the east before they found him.
Bekio was trussed up against a tree in amongst some deep underbrush. He looked sorely beaten, dried blood
caked across his face and his arm looked to be broken in more than one place, but he was alive. Just. Rhasgar
laid his hands upon Bekio's chest and uttered a short prayer to Bahamut and the sorcerer's eyes
fluttered open.
‘They caught me off guard!’ Bekio started to explain, but Rhasgar softly told him not to worry.
After asking if he could walk, to which the halfling nodded, they headed back to the clearing.
As they came back into the view of the clearing they could see that most of the Talons were out of the
cave and a large gap had been created. Between Khalin, Brünhilde, Aukan and Tradden they were getting rid of
the final lumps of rubble and paving the way for the cart to be brought forwards.
Zero, Rhasgar and Bekio joined them and the dragonborn moved up alongside Khalin.
‘To answer your earlier question, Khalin, we camped out in the cave here to await your coming. The pass
is only a couple of hours march from here. The cave gave us a good hiding place for the wagon. It looks as
though we were tracked, however, and our watch was less than successful.’
‘Rangrim and I headed to the pass last evening, to take a quick look,’ the dragonborn continued.
‘The gatehouse still stands, but looks to be taken by orcs, much as Borik has foretold. I would suggest
you take a look yourselves under darkness to judge their defences, before we contemplate moving the wagon
far.’
Khalin jauntily hopped up onto a nearby rock to give himself a better speaking platform, and almost
immediately regretted it. However, what was done was done, and he carried on.
‘Quite so, Rhasgar!’ He realised he had the attention of quite a few people at this point, the
entire population of the clearing focused on him. ‘It… it has been difficult for both our
groups since we split, but as we have just shown, together, together we are a force to be reckoned with!
Those that need rest and recuperation can ride on our fine cart whilst the rest of us move towards the pass.
We have more people to act as outriders now so our journey to a spot just shy of the pass should at least
give us early warning of other threats. The Gods help any who now beset the combined forces of both the
Talons and Krakens!’
Slightly disappointed not to get a roar of approval, Khalin nevertheless noted a steeliness in the assorted
eyes now pinned on him, and a slight swelling of the chests of many. There was strength in numbers, and that
was a power that could encourage and inspire.
‘So, we set out presently. Gather your things and be ready to travel. We will rest more in a few hours.
In the meantime, Tradden perhaps you can gather a few volunteers and move the bodies of these filthy orcs
into the cave, and we can seal them in there as we leave. Not exactly high level guile, but anything we can
do to confuse “The Enemy” is a boon. If nature does its work quickly and before anyone else
stumbles on this clearing, it will be as if they have simply disappeared!’
Hopping down, the warlord noted with satisfaction that everyone set about with practiced competence. Not
shirking his responsibilities Khalin went to help Tradden and a few of the others drag the orc bodies into
the cave.
Tradden had already started moving towards the cave dragging one corpse by its booted orc foot. The young
girl, Iolanthe was watching him.
‘Hey, Iolanthe!’ he waved, cheerily. ‘Want to help?’ he added, in what he thought
was a comedic turn.
The girl fixed Tradden with her violet eyes and watched the young fighter dragging the orc. She seemed to
make her mind up about something and lightly jogged across, picking up the arm of the corpse and tugging on
it in an attempt to help Tradden guide it into the cave.
‘We headed there at twilight and back under the cover of darkness,’ Rhasgar replied. ‘There
were trees and scrub along the way, so we might find somewhere, though I can't remember any specific
spots that would be ideal.’
The dragonborn looked away, out of the clearing to the north and a touch to the east, as much as he could
past the trees. ‘Getting the wagon up there will be a slog anyways,’ he continued. ‘Likely
we will have to go round a bit. I do suggest we get moving though,’ he said, looking at Tradden frowning
at one of the ogre corpses. ‘I doubt we are going to be able to move that in a hurry and only
Bahamut knows what else may know of our location now. Perhaps you should scout ahead whilst we get the
wagon on its way?’
Rhasgar paused for a moment before looking back out to the north again. ‘You can't miss the pass
and the gatehouse. Rangrim and I found it quite easily as Borik had suggested. Keep going that way and when
you come to a stream, follow that on its western bank until a waterfall. You'll see the gatehouse from
there.’
Brünhilde stood in the clearing before the cave. Everyone seemed to be busy in preparations for moving on.
She felt she should be doing something, although, she had just done something, not that anyone had thanked
her. There was a slight moment of annoyance at that, but it was brief. She did what she did because it
needed doing. Gratification came from having done it, not from some petty need for reward or thanks.
She spotted Borik over by one of the waggon, checking it and the oxen. It was good that he was on his feet
again. Brünhilde approached and stood next to him, ostensibly checking things as well. She did not look at
him directly as she spoke.
‘What you said in the cave…’ she started, going on and quietly asking her question. Borik
subtlety glanced around over the next few moments before answering. She had correctly summarised this was
not a conversation to be had out loud. Which begged its own questions. Presently the large white humanoid,
apparently called a Goliath, approached and Borik hailed him.
Brünhilde moved away again and waited for the rest to make ready.
Zero sighed as he saw the others gathering their packs. ‘More marching?’ he asked, knowing the
answer but hoping it was not true before gathering his own things.
‘North, and then round to the east,’ said Khalin to the rogue, clapping him on the back.
‘Two or three hours at the most. We can eat then.’
With that the dwarf turned towards the north and the embankment of the clearing where the ogres had lain
in wait. ‘Let's move,’ he stated and made his way onwards.
The group began their march, Khalin leading the line, Zero close behind, starting to complain already, with
Beltak and Kireth together in the middle of the group. Keeping an eye on their rear were Tradden and
Brünhilde, both easily able to keep up with the rest of the line.
Khalin began to pick their way through the scrub and bush, keeping a reasonable line to the north along the
foothills and as they started to descend they turned and kept on the level, heading more northeasterly
following the line of the mountains. The group kept quiet, their eyes and ears open and alert and always
looking for a way through the foothills where they would be unseen.
The drizzle afforded some cover as they moved, dampening their sounds and hiding their movements despite
Khalin's noisy stumble at one point as the trail grew rough.
Another hour of marching brought heavier rain and the skies turned grey. A gloom settled on the foothills
and going became slow, though it provided a little extra cover.
Khalin kept up as much pace as he dared, though, and it was not long before they came across a fast-flowing
stream as Rhasgar had mentioned. The group kept to the westerly bank and followed it as best as they could.
It was Zero that first heard the sound of falling water, alerting Khalin, and the Krakens slowed their
march down to a crawl. The stream followed a crease in the side of the mountain though there was enough
space to march along its side, weaving through the tall green bushes that peppered the landscape here.
For a few minutes more they dodged and weaved their way through until the sound of the waterfall became
louder and Khalin called for a stop. Edging forwards they cleared an outcrop and then before them they
spied the gatehouse to the pass.
From the top of the waterfall the gatehouse was below them, a four or five level structure built into the
side of the mountain, a large opening at the bottom at the top of stairs serving as an entrance to what
Khalin supposed would be the pass.
There were a quartet of small buildings outside the gatehouse at the other side of the flowing river and
a bridge, somewhat worn and damaged taking a track away from the pass.
In the courtyard outside the entrance to the pass looked to be a number of creatures, probably orcs, either
lounging on the top of the quartet of buildings or slouching against their walls. On the western bank of the
river, the same side of the Krakens were a pair of orcs with spears guarding the track.
‘Not according to Borik and Rhasgar,’ Khalin sighed. ‘Here, let's get behind those
rocks over there,’ he pointed to the side of the stream. ‘We can take a watch for a while and
see if we can see how many of the buggers there are.’
Shifting off to the right the group set down behind some stones and scrub and concentrated their efforts on
studying the movement of the orcs and the grand structure before them as the the last of the light started
to fade.
There only seemed to be one entrance into the courtyard in front of the gatehouse and that was over the
bridge. It was a bit of a dilapidated affair, years of neglect by the looks of it, though even from this
distance through the light rain she could tell that its general structure was fine and had been built to
last — it must be hundreds of years old. It was pocked with holes on the roadway span, but
the parapets, belt course and spandrels all looked sound and the keystones looked firm, though more angular
and sharp than the dwarven masonry she was used to.
The courtyard itself was a simple square, a sandy flatbed, and was strewn with rock piles and construction
gear here and there, gear that looked like they were of dwarven build but disused for some time. There were
four smaller buildings in the yard, the two nearest the bridge looked like old guard posts, whilst the other
pair nearer the entrance to the gatehouse were two-storied.
The gatehouse was a massive construct, sweeping lines, tight buttresses, and she had seen little like it
before. Most of the buildings in Deepingwald were one or two storeys, though some, such as the eastern
watchtower of the Old City in the Harbour Quarter rose perhaps higher. It looked like there were five
storeys to the building, judging by the narrow arrow slits peppering the upper storeys, but it was taller
then the watchtower from what she remembered.
Orcs milled around in the yard and did not appear to be in any formation or guard, some of them appeared to
be playing with stones or dice, and there was little focus on the bridge or entrance to the gatehouse. The
pair with the spears on the Kraken's side of the river looked to be smaller than the others, a
little dishevelled, as though they had lost a bet or had the pig's arse end of duty.
It looked to Brünhilde that the only way into the gatehouse would be over the bridge, through the courtyard
and up the stairs — the river looked too fast here to wade across and with the building
being carved into the mountainside there were no entrances to the side. The courtyard would be a killing
field if there were competent archers up above.
Khalin had crouched down behind the scrub with a frown. He'd agreed to the plan to head to the pass
based on the information supplied by Borik, but now he was here he was concerned how they would get not just
themselves and the Talons into the guardhouse safely, but the wagon and oxen as well. And what lay
within the towering structure?
[Khalin: Perception Check: 1d20+3: 21] – success!
[Khalin: Insight Check: 1d20+0: 3] – failure!
The bridge wasn't a big concern to Khalin, it looked sturdy enough despite the potholes on the road.
The two orcs guarding the Kraken's western side looked lazy to him as well. The construction of the
bridge was interesting, though, larger and squarer blocks than he would have used and he looked across at
Brünhilde with an inquisitive look. She seemed to read his mind. ‘Not dwarven,’s she whispered,
shaking her head.
The courtyard looked well used and trodden, probably by the orcs. He spent his time trying to take a tally.
Standing about, or lounging at one side he counted a score, maybe two dozen armed and armoured by the looks
of things, though whether well armoured, he could not rightly tell through the growing gloom and rain. The
orcs on the roofs of the courtyard buildings, though, did appear to hold bows.
He marvelled at the gatehouse main building, however. It was huge, carved out of the mountainside and
dressed with enormous stone blocks where needed, finished neatly and tightly with some skill. Again, it did
not appear to be of dwarven make. What lay behind the gatehouse's many slitted windows, though, was a
mystery.
As for the orcs, he couldn't fathom what they were doing. They just seemed to be milling about, with no
real order or purpose, and it baffled the warlord's regimented thinking.
Kireth was tired of the rain and the constant marching and was impatient to get out of the wilderness and
into some form of civilisation, even this rough gatehouse was appealing. He settled down as best he could
without dirtying his cloak and drew his hood close against the rain.
[Kireth: Perception Check: 1d20+3: 21] – success!
[Kireth: Insight Check: 1d20+3: 9] – failure!
There were many ways to cross a river and Kireth was not concerned with such trivialities. Even the orcs in
the compound before the gatehouse did not trouble him much. He studied the entrance to the gatehouse and
suspected that it was protected by portcullis of some sort — his keen half-elven eyes
spying the gleam of steel or metal in the dimness of the arch. A wooden structure to the side of the
entrance looked odd until Kireth realised it was on its side, and was probably used to sit atop the steps
of the entrance and provide a straight set of boards for caravans and wagons to mount the rise.
Tradden concentrated on the stream, rather than the bridge, assuming that the dwarves would be all over the
stonework. It looked cold, that was for sure, but it was fast as well, which Tradden assumed meant that it
was shallow. It drove quickly under the bridge in a spray of foam and then just beyond headed over
another waterfall and disappeared in angry spray and the gloom.
The orcs in the courtyard were the next to take Tradden's attention. They were not like the guards back
in Deepingwald, who, despite facing less dangers in their lives than the Krakens had faced in their
last tenday or two, were ordered, alert, and ready. These orcs looked like they were bored. They wore their
armour, probably ring or chain mail from what he could spy through the gloom, loose, and in some cases barely
strapped and their helms often discarded to the side. However, most of them did carry some sort of weapon,
axes and swords mainly. There were sixteen that he counted on the floor of the yard, with another four atop
the two buildings, clutching shortbows.
Those smaller buildings looked easy to get onto the top, Tradden assumed. The orcs might have ladders at
the back and they were only twenty feet or so high. They were flat at the top with a low parapet, more to
mark the edge than provide any cover. The two larger buildings behind had pitched roofs of slate or stone
and appeared to have room for a cart of wagon below and sported arrow slits on the top storey.
For Tradden, the gatehouse was fascinating. A structure this tall was amazing in his opinion, especially one
that was half-carved out of the side of a mountain. He couldn't wait to get inside.
The rain was light but incessant and was dripping into Zero' face from the scrub where they scouted. It
was getting cold now, too, although they were sheltered from the wind. It was getting dark and they
hadn't eaten properly, the rogue's stomach was rumbling. And his legs hurt from the marching.
Always marching.
The stones here were uncomfortable where he crouched and even some of the scrub was pricking him through his
cloak. Still, he did manage to concentrate and look across the gatehouse courtyard.
[Zero: Perception Check: 1d20+7: 25] – success!
[Zero: Insight Check: 1d20+7: 17] – success!
“Ugh!” he thought, at the sight of the slovenly orcs. They swarmed around the courtyard and Zero
had the awful feeling that Khalin would be thinking about getting up close and personal with them at some
point.
There were some shouts from below that drew his attention as a larger orc appeared from the gatehouse arch
and pointed at some of the orcs slouching against one of the walls. They snapped to attention and scampered
across to one of the two storey buildings and came out with bundles that they then sped around the yard
slotting into sconces on the walls, another orc following them and lighting them. To Zero's relief
he saw large pools of shadow caused by the torchlight that might be to his advantage later.
The torches did illuminate one other interesting fact and that was of the outline of some sort of
scaffolding on the gatehouse's left flank, as they looked at it, that stretched up the side almost to
the fourth floor.
Zero did not have long to examine the scaffolding, however, as from within the arch came the sound of a
horn, and the orcs that had not been shouted at before scampered to get into line within the courtyard
and there was movement within the arch. There came a grating, perhaps of metal being lifted against stone,
and after a few moments a small troop of a dozen or so hobgoblins, regimented in their file and rank
movements paced out of the arch and down the steps.
As the hobgoblins marched to the middle of the courtyard, the larger orc barked some orders and many of the
orcs with melee weapons joined the hobgoblins in formation, somewhat reluctantly Zero thought. The four with
bows remained atop their buildings, and left half a dozen others set apart from the main group.
With another call, the hobgoblin and orc troupe turned and headed for the bridge, crossing carefully and then
marching down the track to the east.
The large orc shouted several times at the remaining orcs before heading into the leftmost, as they looked
at it, two story building and disappeared into the darkness.
Brünhilde finished surveying the scene below them and moved back from the edge and sat down.
‘I had hoped we might attack from above, from the very mountain that place is built into, but alas,
it looks like it would take some serious climbing kit to do so. Still, there are not many in that courtyard
right now. We could storm it and get inside before it got nasty, assuming they don't have many archers.
But that is right now. We need rest. I suggest we pull back and get some, then come and asses again in the
morning. If it still looks sparely garrisoned, I say we go smash our way in and say
“hello”.’
‘That's a good plan,’ piped up Tradden as he cleared his throat for effect. ‘Might I
suggest a few modifications?’
More than one pair of eyes raised to the heavens at this point, but a few minutes later each of the group
had to admit either out loud or inwardly that it was a plan with potential, and that ultimately no one else
had anything better. In essence it was as Brünhilde had put forward, but with an initial attempt at
infiltration first, to either better the attacking position for some of them or to otherwise gain an
advantage in being able to secure the all important entrance to the gatehouse. The secondary objective was
just to sow chaos at the outset so that the orcish defenders would be distracted away from the main group
who would head over the bridge as quickly as possible.
Everybody had some further input to help the overall strategy along — Zero recommending
someone else with good stealth abilities to mirror his own so that both infiltrating flanks had that
benefit, and Kireth confidently proclaiming that he had a spell that would all but mask the approach of the
main group, up to a point. Khalin and Beltak thrashed out the mechanics of the main assault, which would
come in stages — bridge, first buildings, second buildings — and that
the cleric would position himself in the best cover at each stage so as to bring healing magics to bear.
Diagrams were drawn in the mud, refinements were made and eventually they were as happy as they could be.
‘Right,’ concluded Khalin, ‘in which case, some of us are in need of a rest more than
others. We need a volunteer to go and get the Talons, and history instructs us that this volunteer
will be you lad.’ Tradden smiled as Khalin continued. ‘Get cracking then! We will be ready to
move when you are back.’
‘So… let's go over this again,’ demanded Zero, snappily. ‘You wan't me to
wade in probably chest high, freezing cold water, up a slimy bank and then sneak into a heavily fortified
enemy compound and fire, by this point damp, dripping arrows at a force twice our size, who are right on top
of us?’
‘Yes,’ came the earnest reply from Tradden, who picked up the pace slightly.
‘Right.’ The rogue was expecting more justification from the fighter, but wasn't going to
leave it there. ‘.Fine. Standard fare, and I look forward to the inevitable orc scimitar to my face.
The best looking face in all these lands I might add. It's a crime in itself. However, explain to me
why, before swimming to our death, I have to walk back and forth on this road? My feet hurt!’
‘Because we need to get the others and I am not safe on my own,’ Tradden stopped. ‘This is
getting really hard, I know, but I need you, Z.’
‘Well,’ Zero stopped also, looking off into the woods to one side. ‘You only had to say.
But, your tab is getting unmanageable even by my standards. Also, you didn't say the magic
word.’
Tradden smiled as they started walking again. ‘Please?’
‘What? No. It's “Shimlack” or something, isn't it? That's what Kireth
always says. “Schmazlat”?’
The soft sound of chuckling echoed around the increasingly dark scrubland either side of the makeshift track.
With Tradden and Zero away from the main group, the others settled down to tend to their wounds and to
check their equipment. With one eye on the orcs and the courtyard below, Khalin, Kireth, Brünhilde and
Beltak kept a low profile, quiet in the gently dripping rain.
The gloom darkened as the last of the sun disappeared behind the mountain range leaving just the light
from the torches in the courtyard. the orcs continued their vigil; two of the scouts on the same side of the
river as the Krakens and the others sat in the courtyard, some of them playing dice games against the
walls of the buildings.
Healing Dice are applied…
[Khalin spends 6 fighter healing dice (2 fighter left) to restore 6d10+12: 39 hit points]
[Khalin is now on 68/82 hit points]
[Brünhilde spends 2 fighter healing dice (3 fighter and 3 druid left) to restore 2d10+8: 14 hit points]
[Brünhilde is now on 74/95 hit points]
[Beltak spends 3 cleric healing dice (5 cleric left) to restore 1d8+2: 18 hit points]
[Beltak is now on 63/64 hit points]
Features are restored…
[Brünhilde regains all usages of Wild Shape]
[Brünhilde regains the use of Second Wind]
[Brünhilde regains the use of Action Surge]
[Brünhilde uses Natural Recovery to recover one level 2 spell slot]
[Khalin regains all usages of Battlefield Tactics]
[Kireth uses Arcane Recovery to recover one level 3 spell slot]
Tradden and Zero continued to retrace their steps and after about another thirty or so minutes the two
humans came upon the forward lookout of the cart party, namely Rangrim, who led them to where the others
were setting up the cart and oxen off in the deeper scrub to be as hidden as possible before the night camp.
It was a good job, even the eagle-eyed Zero had to look twice, initially.
Tradden explained the plan to Rhasgar and the rest, setting out how two pairs would attempt to infiltrate
the courtyard whilst the main group would be ready to charge forward in a full out assault. The dragonborn
nodded. ‘A mix of deception, surprise and brute force. Very well,’ came the deep voice. ‘I
see we have little choice and in truth an out and out battle after this long period of what feels like
flight will be welcome. Aukan, Lady Sorrow and Rangrim — pack for a fight, we leave for
the gatehouse now. The rest of you ready the cart and wait two hours, and then follow on the road. If you
find us anything other than victorious then fall back to our discussed plan in that kind of eventuality and
may the gods protect you.’
Within a few minutes Tradden and Zero were retracing their steps back to the gatehouse, this time as part of
a larger group. Unlike the prior journey, this time there was little talk — each of them
were all too aware that they were on the eve of what could be a very difficult battle.
Presently, Tradden, Zero and the others arrived back at the makeshift lookout to join the others. Khalin
bade them to be quiet with a signal and gestured for them to come in close.
‘Hail, Talons. No movement since you lads left — seems all quiet.’ The
dwarf gestured towards their resident mage. ‘Kireth here has a plan to get most of us closer without
getting detected. If the four of you — Tradden, Zero, Sorrow and
Rangrim — can indeed get across the river without been seen, we will certainly have some
form of surprise. Whether it is enough to win the day is to be seen, however&hellip'’ he then looked
at each of them in turn, locking in eye contact for a brief moment, ‘…I have fought by the
side of all of you and in all my days I have never seen a more valiant crew. Perhaps this night is a good
one to die, but it will not be for lack of spirit, determination or skill on our part.’
The dwarf then leaned back slightly. ‘However, you rest for a short spell. I know you want to get
cracking but heavy road legs are a bad way to start any fight. Additionally, the night is but young and the
thicker the night, the more in our favour the odds are. We strike in one hour!’
With that, in the small space they had each of the Krakens and Talons again did what came
naturally to them in the hour they had. Some silently sharpened or cleaned weapons and checked armour, some
simply waited. Others looked to commune or pray with whatever deity was appropriate. In that time Khalin
and Brünhilde kept an eye out, but again, there was no movement of note.
As time passed the rain began to ease and the clouds started to part. It was still cloudy, but the moon
could be seen peeking out every now and then.
Healing Dice are applied…
[Tradden spends 1 fighter healing dice (7 fighter left) to restore 1d10+1: 7 hit points]
[Tradden is now on 66/66 hit points]
Features are restored…
[Tradden regains the use of Action Surge]
[Tradden regains all usages of Battlemaster Manoeuvres]
After the hour had passed and the time was judged right, Khalin gathered the group in, at a small clearing
close to their target, making sure they were comfortable as they took one last breather before executing the
elaborate plan.
The warlord looked into each of his comrades' eyes, scanning the group and gauging their mood. When he
finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, lest he give their position away, yet to the
Krakens and Talons sat around him it seemed to carry around the glade like peals of distant
thunder.
[Khalin: Inspiring Leader]
[Brünhilde, Khalin, Kireth, Tradden, Zero and Beltak gain 8+4: 12 temporary hit points]
‘We have come a long way to get to the Nentir Vale, to find our lost comrades from before the Retreat.
Their descendents await, beyond the mountains. They wait to hear that they are not alone. That their kin
live on beyond the sea. We have survived a monster of the deep, countless goblins, undead, Skauril and all
his minions, yet we remain — steadfast. This battle shall not be easy, but with heart,
with comradeship, and with surety, we shall prevail!’
Now the time came, and four nimble shadows moved out from their hiding place, some with more practiced ease
then others. From the spot they had moved from another silent group emanated, heading down to the track and
very slowly towards the bridge led by the mage, Kireth, hooded and dark.
The four shadows then split into two groups of two and made their way left, with Tradden and Zero, and
right, with Sorrow and Rangrim, through the damp undergrowth to the rear of the nearest buildings, and
heading for the river. Their target, with luck and a quiet and invisible crossing, were the buildings either
side of the river across from the orc-guarded bridge.
As the sand fell so did the orcs, tumbling to the floor in an instant. Kireth appeared on the spot, hopefully
far enough away and in the darkness not to be spotted.
