Kulan: Knightfall's Heroes of Carnell Game [IC]

[Knightfall]

Caerth winces when Gareth puts his hand on the half-orc’s shoulder, and he puts some effort into not reacting with a growl or sneer.

Doesn’t the creature ask for death, repeatedly? Surely the unnatural thing has no place in this world, and a predator removes the injured and sick so that nature thrives...

But then why does he feel such hatred?

Realizing that he does not trust his own moral compass anymore after what he’s been through and the doubts about his mentor, Caerth decides he has to look outward.

”Screech,” he whispers the name of his owl companion. No, Screech is outside, safe from harm, safe from — from watching the druid do things he shouldn’t. Was that why he sent the great horned owl away?

Instead Caerth looks at his trusted companions once more, the question plain on his face. What should he do?

Phar just shakes his head, clearly finding the situation uncomfortable. He blows out a breath and says, "We can't let him live, he will be a threat to the good people of this land. A clean execution is best. Even he desires it. I'd rather see him given a quick death than tortured."

Aureus nods her ascent to Phar's words. She unties the rook, which still gasps for air meekly in Caerth's grip. The rook's clawed hands hang limply at its side. It doesn't even try to free itself.

Replacing his wicked spiked chain, Quinn then draws cruel justice.

"For the crimes of murder, you are right, he should pay by a quick death."

Caerth nods. A just death from the sentient blade that represents exactly that, seems a good solution to this dilemma.

The half-orc prepares himself for releasing his prisoner... just a little longer...

As if his hand has a mind of its own, Caerth pushes the dagger into the rook’s skin, just far enough to draw blood, before pushing the creature forward with his other hand, towards his companion holding Cruel Justice at the ready.

"I wish to hear from all as to the accusation and sentence of this creature and I, Quinn Inagui, will serve the weapon, Cruel Justice, as executioner."

He moves to stand within striking distance of the rook with the Named Sword ready to swing.

The half-dead rook doesn't struggle as Caerth places Roobite in front of Quinn. It closes its eyes and Cruel Justice and Quinn move as one. The blade cuts the rook's head clean off and the body slumps down dead.

"Justice is served," the blade says solemnly to no one in particular. "It was a harsh mercy."

"Aye," Gareth intones in agreement. "It is better this way. That creature would have likely have been a drain on our resources and tried to kill one of us the moment we let our guard down."

Timmins does the foul work of removing the dead body and placing its remains with the other dead rooks outside of the tower. "While it would probably be better for us to bury those bodies or burn them, we shouldn't attract more attention to ourselves," he says once he reenters the main floor of tower.

---

Maur Deepdelver:
Maur ducks his head as the old rowboat barely passes under the tight entrance to the sea grotto. The tide is high and the passage is barely passable. The two nervous human lads working the oars of their father's boat look around warily once inside the grotto. The irregular sea cave is roughly 20 ft. by 20 ft. at its widest point.

There they are, Maur thinks once her sees the two launches tied up to an old pier. There is also something else. The smell of dried blood and offal. Well, Lady Pendour did tell him the group already on Gurnard's Head had fought several pitched battles.

The boys row the boat close to the old dock for Maur to disembark. He could have rowed here faster on his own, but the old fisher would had been forced to lend the boat to Maur had insisted that his boys, Tamer and Shutt, do the rowing and then return with the boat right away.

No sooner had Maur's booted feet touched the dock, the boy was quickly turned around and launched out of the grotto as fast as the two boys could row. They were quickly out of sight. Maur had barely had time to grab his pack before the young humans fled. Now, he carefully climbs the winding stairs leading up to where the island's tower sits. The way is carved in stone with sections of the stairs open to the sea air. An old doorway once shut with a reinforced wooden door sits open and a natural escarpment lies beyond.

The tower, such as it is, is typical for human design and has seen better days. Its upper levels look like they could topple at any moment. Gaping holes litter the tower and the wind and rain lashes the old stonework. Then he smells it. Burnt flesh and fresh blood. Could he be too late to help the others?

The smell seems to be coming from a pile of corpses near a small set of stairs that winds up the side of the tower to an open doorway. He hears voices coming from inside the tower. Are they friend or foe?

 

[Scott DeWar]

"Cruel justice, I thank you, and now this task is done." Quinn places the sword in the sheath and places his favored weapon in hand, the metallic links rattling softly as he looks about. "Do we have further business here?"
His voice echos in the now still chamber, the only other sounds are breathing of everyone and his spiked chain links softly rattling.

 

[JustinCase]

Caerth nods, his eyes downcast. Despite knowing it was the best course of action, the half-orc feels guilty nevertheless.

With a deep breath he tucks the dagger in his belt and looks at his companions in turn.

”Ready to move on,” the druid both asks and states.

 

[Neurotic]

Sighing with the satisfaction of feeling the solid ground under his feet again, Maur readies his weapon, sets his shield, and starts toward the voices. He doesn't even try to be stealthy, 400 pounds of metal encrusted dwarf is not something given to a subtle approach.

He slows down as he nears the door, trying to discern if the speakers are human or not.

OOC: undead hunting spells prepared if he heard about the cultist, otherwise adventuring set (with downdraft as one 3rd level spell just in case)

 

[Neurotic]

As he approaches he can discern the voices better, sing-song voices of the elves, gruff voice of an older male, softer tones of a female...this must be them!

But traveling alone for lone periods, Maur didn't survive by being an idiot. He comes to the door with his shield raised (OOC: full defense) and peers inside. His armored bulk closes off some light and the group inside notices for sure.

"Ho, there!" he calls in "Friend coming in, peace be with you."

After the silhouette resolves itself into a heavily armored dwarf and enameled shield is lowered down the party observes red beard and hair falling under the heavy helm, his eyes obscured by some kind of goggles.

Putting the warhammer back into the loop on his belt, the dwarf raises the goggles revealing wide-open eyes, so pale they are more silver than blue. With the light behind him, the pupils are mere pinpricks as if even this is too much. The armor is something that can be seen only among the dwarves, heavy plate with interlocking, overlapping plates that would probably be too bulky for other races due different proportions.

"I am Maur Deepdelver, champion of The Soul-Forger, cleric of the Dwarffather. Lady Pendour has written me in as additional help when you brought news of some vile cult. And master Bronzethegn recommends you highly."

He stands proudly with a smile that falls into a frown as he looks at the group. "An elf, an orc, an ogre and some kind of beastly gnoll! What did The Elder get me into?!" The smile returns "I am here to help! Who do we smite first?"
He nods at the old warrior and awaits the reaction of the group.

OOC: the italics are his thoughts, don't respond, please

 

[JustinCase]

Caerth holds his massive spear at the ready, unsure of the unknown dwarf approaching the group. The large and muscular half-orc druid, an impressive composite longbow slung over his shoulder and a wicked looking dagger under his belt, frowns as Maur approaches. Perhaps the dwarf notices the bloodstains on the cautious half-orc's hands, as if he has been rummaging through the corpses of the rooks lying around.

He does not say a word, instead waiting for his companions' response.

 

[Scott DeWar]

In a spark of insight, Quinn says, "Champion Deep Delver, I am Quinn Inagui of lands to the south.", The one addressing Maur Deeepdelver is slightly shorter then average for a human; straight, black hair armed with a longbow on his back, a longsword at his side a weighted net near at hand and a spiked chain in his hand, the end having dropped to the stone floor. He is armored in a breast plate.

His skin is well marked with the scars of what is probably more then a hundred battles.

"Tell me master Dwarf, this rook was in part responsible for the death of the Lord of the land, Lady Pendour's husband. The rooks chained his desecrated body to the top of the flag pole and said rook was executed for his part in thes actions. Do you object?"

 

[Neurotic]

"The deed is done. My objecting it or not will not bring the beast to life. But why should I? If half of what I hear is correct, it more than deserved it."
The dwarf relaxes more
"I don't object, no, the creature reaped what it sow. Where are we at?"

 

[Scott DeWar]

Quinn looks to Caerth first then the others with an overt "interesting" look on his face.

 

[JustinCase]

Despite his suspicions, Caerth sees no signs of insincerity from the dwarf, and he lowers his spear. He returns the gaze of Quinn, not completely trusting the newcomer but willing to give the benefit of doubt.

”Just you?” the half-orc grumbles, the sound more dangerous than intended.