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<blockquote data-quote="Once a Fool" data-source="post: 2643659" data-attributes="member: 35783"><p><strong>Chapter Seven</strong></p><p></p><p>All was darkness, an absolute blanket of black that Lo Chi's gnomish night vision could not pierce. Her feet were stuck to the ground. Springy but firm. Wherever she was, time seemed a meaningless abstract. At some point, Lo Chi began to hear the comforting sounds of company (loves misery).</p><p></p><p>"Ororck not like this place."</p><p></p><p>So. The half-orc was standing next to her. That was reassuring. Especially when the screaming started.</p><p></p><p>Whatever was out there - and Lo Chi could guess; Ororck informed her that the ground stretching as far as he could see was web - whatever was out there, Lo Chi did not intend to be caught helpless. She prepared to cast an illuminating spell.</p><p></p><p>"You. Undo boots."</p><p></p><p>"What?"</p><p></p><p>"I put you on shoulders."</p><p></p><p>"That's exactly what I was about to suggest."</p><p></p><p>Once on Ororck's shoulders, Lo Chi prepared once again to cast her spell, but she lost her balance in the dark and somehow ended up lying on her back with her palms stuck to the web.</p><p></p><p><em>At least I didn't break my neck.</em></p><p></p><p>More screams.</p><p></p><p><em>The kind of screams a village cries out when it is being slaughtered and razed. And weeping. Weeping.</em></p><p></p><p>Somewhere near her, someone was weeping.</p><p></p><p>"Ororck rip your clothes, now."</p><p></p><p><em>"What?'</em></p><p></p><p>"To pull you off web."</p><p></p><p>"But my hair...my hands are stuck."</p><p></p><p>"That okay. You have knife?"</p><p></p><p>Lo Chi had a dagger. She'd slit Adam's throat with it.</p><p></p><p><em>That orc leader wanted us to assassinate his shaman with this dagger. No such luck, buddy.</em></p><p></p><p>The dagger was of elven make, an odd find in the caves of the Waterwalker Tribe, far from elven lands. It was well-honed.</p><p></p><p>Hair and clothing fell away and patches of web were cut away from exposed skin; Lo Chi was free again. Ororck lifted her up and planted her bare feet solidly on the small patch of her clothing now carpeting a tiny section of the web.</p><p></p><p>"Ororck. Take off your clothes."</p><p></p><p>"Ororck what?"</p><p></p><p>"If you put them on the web, we can walk around."</p><p></p><p>A curious bystander might have wondered what a gnome might have been doing, talking to a half-orc in fluent orcish in the pitch black of their current situation. A linguist might have marveled at the grace with which the gnome spoke the crude tongue.</p><p></p><p>No bystanders were curious, however; nor were any of them linguists. They were uniformly terrified. It is for this reason that Lo Chi's reasonable repetition of that plan in the trade-tongue was met with little enthusiasm.</p><p></p><p>Ororck rumbled, "That my idea."</p><p></p><p>Whatever. She tried again. And again. Finally, someone saw the sense of it.</p><p></p><p>"Hey. If we take off our clothes, we can walk around on them."</p><p></p><p>Lo Chi shouted out, "That was my idea!" No one was listening.</p><p></p><p>More screams out of the dark.</p><p></p><p>Lo Chi something else, even as Ororck moved around in the darkness, going about his half-orcish business.</p><p></p><p>"If we consolidate, we may be better off against whatever's out there."</p><p></p><p>No response beyond the general hysteria of the situation.</p><p></p><p>An elven voice spoke into Lo Chi's ear.</p><p></p><p>"You have the makings of a great leader, little one. Lo Chi, is it?"</p><p></p><p>The Elfin Exile. Celest. What was she talking about? Nobody was listening to her. They listened to Celest when she repeated the idea, though. Bastards.</p><p></p><p>In the darkness, the confused, frightened and, now, chilly crowd condensed.</p><p></p><p>Ororck's voice snuck up behind her. "Spider come. Big as you. Take knife."</p><p></p><p>"There's a spider as big as me out there?"</p><p></p><p>Someone screamed, very nearby. Woops. Should have stuck with orcish.</p><p></p><p>"Three."</p><p></p><p><em>"Three?"</em></p><p></p><p>Panic. Hysteria.</p><p></p><p>"No worry. That the small three."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Once a Fool, post: 2643659, member: 35783"] [b]Chapter Seven[/b] All was darkness, an absolute blanket of black that Lo Chi's gnomish night vision could not pierce. Her feet were stuck to the ground. Springy but firm. Wherever she was, time seemed a meaningless abstract. At some point, Lo Chi began to hear the comforting sounds of company (loves misery). "Ororck not like this place." So. The half-orc was standing next to her. That was reassuring. Especially when the screaming started. Whatever was out there - and Lo Chi could guess; Ororck informed her that the ground stretching as far as he could see was web - whatever was out there, Lo Chi did not intend to be caught helpless. She prepared to cast an illuminating spell. "You. Undo boots." "What?" "I put you on shoulders." "That's exactly what I was about to suggest." Once on Ororck's shoulders, Lo Chi prepared once again to cast her spell, but she lost her balance in the dark and somehow ended up lying on her back with her palms stuck to the web. [i]At least I didn't break my neck.[/i] More screams. [i]The kind of screams a village cries out when it is being slaughtered and razed. And weeping. Weeping.[/i] Somewhere near her, someone was weeping. "Ororck rip your clothes, now." [i]"What?'[/i] "To pull you off web." "But my hair...my hands are stuck." "That okay. You have knife?" Lo Chi had a dagger. She'd slit Adam's throat with it. [i]That orc leader wanted us to assassinate his shaman with this dagger. No such luck, buddy.[/i] The dagger was of elven make, an odd find in the caves of the Waterwalker Tribe, far from elven lands. It was well-honed. Hair and clothing fell away and patches of web were cut away from exposed skin; Lo Chi was free again. Ororck lifted her up and planted her bare feet solidly on the small patch of her clothing now carpeting a tiny section of the web. "Ororck. Take off your clothes." "Ororck what?" "If you put them on the web, we can walk around." A curious bystander might have wondered what a gnome might have been doing, talking to a half-orc in fluent orcish in the pitch black of their current situation. A linguist might have marveled at the grace with which the gnome spoke the crude tongue. No bystanders were curious, however; nor were any of them linguists. They were uniformly terrified. It is for this reason that Lo Chi's reasonable repetition of that plan in the trade-tongue was met with little enthusiasm. Ororck rumbled, "That my idea." Whatever. She tried again. And again. Finally, someone saw the sense of it. "Hey. If we take off our clothes, we can walk around on them." Lo Chi shouted out, "That was my idea!" No one was listening. More screams out of the dark. Lo Chi something else, even as Ororck moved around in the darkness, going about his half-orcish business. "If we consolidate, we may be better off against whatever's out there." No response beyond the general hysteria of the situation. An elven voice spoke into Lo Chi's ear. "You have the makings of a great leader, little one. Lo Chi, is it?" The Elfin Exile. Celest. What was she talking about? Nobody was listening to her. They listened to Celest when she repeated the idea, though. Bastards. In the darkness, the confused, frightened and, now, chilly crowd condensed. Ororck's voice snuck up behind her. "Spider come. Big as you. Take knife." "There's a spider as big as me out there?" Someone screamed, very nearby. Woops. Should have stuck with orcish. "Three." [i]"Three?"[/i] Panic. Hysteria. "No worry. That the small three." [/QUOTE]
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