Burning Down the HouseBurning Down the House |
As the others got their breath back, Neidric approached the two orc warriors still webbed against the inside of the front wall of the farmhouse. "How many of you are there upstairs?" he demanded, in their own foul language. The orcs seemed a little reluctant to answer, so Galaecien began to sing. It was a new rythmn, stirring and martial, and Neidric's chest swelled visibly as he listened, inches seeming to add themselves to his 4' 1" height. Squaring his shoulders, the dwarf battered a stream of aggressive Orcish at the two prisoners. "We're offtering you a chance to get away free, with your weapons and as much meat as you can carry," he pointed out. The orc shrugged. "Two with the girl, one asleep, plus Zorc." Neidric nodded. "Missile weapons?" The orc shrugged. "We've all got bows," he said. "Right," said Galaecien, "and we get the hostages back." The orc nodded. "That's fine by me," he said, "but it's Zorc you'll need to convince Zorc - she's in charge." "She?" said Neidric incredulously.Galaecien shook her head. "You can do that," she said to the orc.
Neidric cut the orc out, disarming him as he did so, and the two of them prodded him up the stairs, Lotheemas following behind. Lothalla remained below, casting a Detect Magicand beginning to search around for enchanted equipment on the orcish bodies. Twenty Ocloth took his spear and wandered out through the back door. Looking up at the windows of the upper floor, he tapped the spear-point thoughtfully on the snowy ground and cast a Greater Mage Armour before walking a little away and settling down to watch for developments.
At the top of the stairs the orc stopped just in front of the webbing and called out. "Rugbash? It's me, Klorg." A guttural voice responded. "Klorg? How's it going, you kill them all yet?" Klorg shook his head. "No, Rugbash, we lost. Thorach's dead. They want the hostages to let us get away." There was a pause. "Thorkel and I will take the deal," came the answer, "Zed is sparked, the pisshead." Galaecien spoke up, again in Common. "We want to hear and see the hostages," she insisted. "She's fine," said Rugbash hastily, "you're fine, aren't you?" A different voice - that of a young girl - responded. "Help! Help! Get me out of here!" followed by, "you bastards!" directed at the orcs. "How's your father?" asked Galaecien. "I don't know," came the tearful reply, "there's only me up here." Rugbash chipped in again. "All the others are in the stable, Quinnor's got them, you can't blame us for anything that's happened to them!"
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At this point, the circling Flinton noticed a slender but definitely orcish figure squirming its' way through the webbing in the upper room towards one of the back windows. Lothalla had completed looting the bodies - finding more good-quality weapons and a surprising amount of gold, probably belonging to the owner of the farm, as well as Thorach's enchanted spear - and headed outside to join Twenty Ocloth watching the windows.
Neidric began to hack his way through the webbing into the upper floor. As he did so he passed the archer at the top of the stairs that Lothalla had aimed the Web at in the first place before Galaecien's Unseen Servant had stolen all his arrows. Without ceremony he hacked both the orc's legs off and left it to hang in the webbing and bleed to death. A few more steps and he was at the top and into the doorway of the upper room.
Most of the upper floor was one large sleeping room, with one large bed and several smaller pallets scattered around. A snoring orc was sprawled in a far corner, too drunk to notice that he was meshed in a Web; two trouserless and unarmed orcs were caught near the large bed, and on that bed was a young, pretty and stark naked redheaded girl, covered in minor wounds and bruises. On the far side of the bed, a female orc in light leathers was working her way fluidly through the webs towards the back window. Neidric knew he'd never reach her before she did, so he concentrated on reaching the girl. Belatedly, it occurred to Lotheemas to cast Freedom of Movement, and the three reached the bed in short order. Rugbash - still trapped - gestured frantically at the sprawled girl. "Look, look, she's fine," he babbled, but Galaecien, ignoring his pleas, stabbed him savagely in the groin with her spear.
At that moment, Zorc reached the window, and placed a hand on the ledge ready to climb out. Lothalla was ready for this, and unleashed a Magic Missile which blasted scorching holes in her leg, shoulder and belly. The injuries spoiled her balance, and instead of vaulting neatly out of the window to drop to her feet below, she caught a foot, tipped over, and crashed into the snow flat on her face, directly in front of Twenty Ocloth, who responded promptly by dropping a Fireball spell right on top of her.
Neidric, Lotheemas and Galaecien started in surprise as a great flare of orange light erupted outside the window Zorc had escaped through, but when more normal flames began to lick around the window and run through the webbing, they exchanged looks and abandoned Rugbash and Thorkel. Neidric grabbed the girl and the three started to back towards the stairs as the fire began to spread rapidly.
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What saved Zorc from complete incineration, paradoxically, was the fact that she was flat on her face. Though unable to dodge, she was under the main blast, and escaped the worst of it. Scrambling to her feet, she reached for her weapons. Before she could draw, Lothalla emulated her ratty comrade and cast a second Fireball straight at her. Flame washed over her, and she staggered, beating at her lank black hair. She was still alive, though, and started moving along the wall in an attempt to escape. In a whirl of limbs, Twenty Ocloth hurled his short spear; the weapon drove into her belly and right through, slamming her back against the wooden wall and nailing her to it to hang in the flames, quite dead.
The fire was quite intense in the upper room by the time Neidric had succeeded in dragging the girl through the webs to the top of the stairs, and the two wounded orcs trapped in the webs were shrieking as their flesh blackened. Once out of the web, the dwarf hefted the girl in his arms in truly heroic fashion (despite her feet trailing on the ground) and the three raced down the stairs and out of the house past the second orc webbed to the window who was also thrashing desperately at the prospect of imminent incineration. Outside, they found Lothalla and Twenty Ocloth staring up at the pillar of flame that had once been a farmhouse, a little startled at the effects of their magic.
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Flinton hadn't been idle while this was happening. Orbiting the farmyard, the brown owl noticed that the stable doors were open now, and angled on his silent wings to swoop into the barn. Inside, dimly lit by the winter light from outside, he found a single skinny, cunning-looking orc using a longbow to cover eight or nine humans, keeping them backed up against the hay-bales at the end of the stables. Obedient to her mistress's commands, she winged her way to a shadowed beam, folded her wings, and crapped on Quinnor Sheepslayer below.
Galaecien took charge of the girl, wrapped her in a cloak, and began to try and calm her evident deep state of shock, while Neidric, Lotheemas and Lothalla set off for the stables at a sprint. Walking as close to the flames as he dared, Twenty Ocloth reached in and siezed his spear by the haft. A good tug freed it from the wood and he retrieved it from the fire - still with the carbonized corpse of Zorc attached. Chuckling, he began to search the body.
Lothalla stopped running suddenly and concentrated on her owl. Dropping off his perch like a stone, Flinton plunged silently directly towards Quinnor, snapping his wings open at the last minute to rocket horizontally across the orc's head, his talons lashing out at his head with incredible aim. The orc screamed as a great strip of flesh was peeled off his brows and an eye ruptured, blood filling his remaining eye and preventing him getting a bead on the courageous owl as it zoomed away and back into the shadows. Holding his bow in his left hand with the arrow clamped to the stave, he pawed frantically at his face with his right, trying to clear his vision. When he finally did, it was to discover the tall Priest of Pelor standing in the stable doorway casting a Blindness spell. A moment later everything went black, and he dropped his bow and stumbled around for a moment before Neidric's axe crunched into him and brought his pain to an end.
Meanwhile, Galaecien was comforting the girl Ismyr.This seemed to be going well, but suddenly her eyes fell on the webbed orc archers still struggling in the middle of the farmyard and she stiffened with hate and fear. Following her eyes, the bard put a hand on the girl's shoulder, then held up Thorach's spear which Lothalla had left behind. "Would you like to kill them?" she asked, her voice soft and compelling. The girl's frightened eyes glanced up into Galaecien's calm grey. Then she reached for the spear and stood up decisively.
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Lotheemas and Neidric were just escorting the rescued hostages out of the stables when a terrible scream, closely followed by another, reached their ears. Glancing at each other, the pair hurried out, the farmer behind them, and stopped short at the sight of young Ismyr, eyes blazing and painted in blood, heavy spear clutched in both hands as she ground it through the orc's throat. Dragging it out she spat on the body, then threw it down and ran into her father's arms. Behind her, Galaecien nodded to herself in quiet satisfaction. Maybe she had found her apprentice, she thought.
Farmer Crandoc was a bit taken aback at the ruin of his farm - house and barn burned, livestock slaughtered - but accepted the point when reminded that he and his kin were all alive. His mood improved further when Lothalla returned to him a sizeable portion of the looted gold. Hitching a cart to a Phantom Steed conjured by Galaecien, they loaded the survivors into it and headed back to Redcliff.
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On their return to the village they were greeted with an impromptu celebration as it became apparent that the heroes had once again achieved the impossible and had rescued most of Crandoc's people. Once the excitement began to overwhelm the prinicpals, though, the party tactfully seperated them and took them to Marnor's to recuperate. A tearful reunion with Goodwife Crandoc - and a shamefaced apology from Mikael - later, things began to settle down. Lotheemas spread some of his few remaining spells around as healing for the worst hurt, though except Ismyr no-one had more than bruises. After that, Ismyr and Galaecien were to be seen for most of the evening, talking quietly and occasionally singing softly.
Of them all, Neidric was the freshest, and he was not one to pass up free food and ale. He remained with the villagers, swigging suds and eating heartily as he regaled them with his bear-riding exploits, until well after dark.
The next day, Lotheemas celebrated a rite to Pelor at the rising of the Sun, that deity's holiest hour, using a Create Water to produce a pool and Blessing it for use in the service. Most of the village attended in thanksgiving for the defeat of the orc raiders. Afterwards, a meeting of the Economics of Redcliff voted unanimously to contribute funds to assist Crandoc and Bellingar to rebuild their farms - though, spared the attentions of the party, Bellingar's farm was largely intact. Lothalla, encouraged by her success with Detect Magic at Crandoc's, was wandering around with it running. Gradually she noticed that, as well as the odd find on this villager or that, she was percieving a subtler, fainter kind of magic. Underlying everything, permeating the whole village, stronger around the people - and some people more than others - it was part magical, part spiritual, like a standing field of magic. Whether it was generated by the community or by something else, she could not tell, but it was fascinating.
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Lotheemas had gone to see Minona, the single priestess of Lylix at that wild and wanton goddess's tiny shrine. A striking woman some years older than the young priest, Minona's main service to the community was in discreet and not so discreet advice to lovers, would-be lovers, and flagging spouses, though she and Hessil - the keeper of the town's one small brothel, were on very good terms.
Over the following week, the party - with Ismyr in tow - made a journey around the other outlying farms of the village, advising the farmers of the best approach to dealing with raiders should they come again. It was becoming clear that the wooden palisade, while a great start, was not enough. The village needed better walls and a strongpoint in the centre, at least. While stone walls sounded nice, if the improvements in trade they were hoping for materialized in the spring, the village might grow rapidly, and they might end up with a walled area too small for it. Earthworks to back the palisade, and stone gatehouses, however, seemed a good idea, and a keep in the empty field between Mill Road and Malaberg road would provide the nucleus of what might eventually be the castle of a small city in time. Stone Shape and Reduce spells would speed construction. Recruiting for the militia proved slow, for memories of the fate of the previous members of that organization were fresh. In the end, Neidric and Cherm were forced to conscript thirty suitable candidates. This caused some grumbling, but once training had begun the new force settled into the role fairly well.
Session Date: 28th Feb 2012