Haven's Siege

[pathfinderq1]

[sblock=context]

-=-=-= On the mountain side =-=-=-

Stonebearer push down the cliff an orc who falls twenty meters in the river that flow there. He barely have time to take his breath when two other orcs fall on him. He starts to be overwhlem as he heard a piercing bird-like sound. The two orcs raise there head to see where it come from, which give an opening and stab an orc. The other is about to trust his spear in an opening the Goliath have done when another piercing sound happen and the orc stop his move, falling on the ground, an arrow in his neck. He raise his eyes an see an elf shooting another arrow at an orc near the shaman, but he sees his arrow block by the shield.

The Orc shaman, seeing the new threat, throw a acid projectile that hit the elf. He put his hand to his eyes, blinded by the acid, but a light come from behind and go hit the shield orc. The elf eyes glow a moment too and then he draw another arrow. The elf shout at the Goliath. "No time to play, we must retreat toward the Hold."[/sblock]

The goliath was a massive figure, even by the standards of his race- part of that was his heavy black scale armor, topped with a dull grey helm whose face-plate resembled a dire bear. He towered over the fallen orcs, the blackwood glaive in his hands lashing out like a fast-moving slice of the night sky to clip each of the creatures. He turned at the sound of the elf's voice, but there was no sense of recognition in the eyes hidden within the bear helm- there was only a glare of furious anger. He roared again, a wordless shout of challenge.

From the shadows at the edge of the cliff face, there was a shrill cry- a single word in some unrecognizable language, or perhaps a name. The voice was high and sharp, but rang clear through the chaos of the fight. An instant later, the speaker was visible- a tiny figure clad in soft grey and green, no larger than a human child but carrying a bow with an arrow nocked and ready. At her cry, Stonebear shook his helmed head once, as if awakening from a deep sleep- or mindless rage... Then he shouted back in the elf's direction. "I hear you!" Moving carefully, he began to back slowly away from the fight, keeping his attention and his glaive pointed towards the orcs. The smaller figure, likely a gnome or a halfling, scampered along the cliff wall then broke into a run to join the goliath- she paused to snap off an arrow of her own. At first it looked as if the shaft would miss, but at the last instant the shield-bearing orc (perhaps distracted by the elven archer) shifted directly into the arrow's path. He gave a grunt of pain, and the tiny archer responded with a light and mocking laugh. "Come on, big brother," she called to the goliath, now leading him in careful retreat as she drew another arrow.

 

[CaBaNa]

[sblock=Context]

Lord Baltimore emerges from the tannery, and breathes in deep. The large, circular nostrils of his pug nose remain redolant with the odors of the tannery, and it will cling to the bristles of his fur for some time.

He does not look around for the gnome, but instead smiles at the human constabulary leaning against a wall awaiting his return. "We may continue," Lord Baltimore smiles, as if all these footsoldiers wanted was to serve as his escort.

Lord Baltimore strolls towards the city gate. At one point a woman screamed at the sight of him -- these things do happen, and they cannot be helped -- but the incident was a minor one, and was soon forgotten.

At the city gate, it is Lord Baltimore's turn to wait. He is led outside the city gate where he finds a stick and begins absentmindedly sketching images in the dust. The guards are not to be seen, and Lord Baltimore wonders if perhaps there won't be an escort through the valley after all. Still, he can wait, and as he waits he begins to sing.

You won't have heard a hobgoblin sing before, I expect, unless you have met one in battle. When they fight, they often chant their orders to each other in a metrical recitative, part of an oral tradition that spans back centuries, but which translates awkwardly into Common, and has a limited vocabulary. It is a mixture of growls and incomprehensible words to the human ear, and can terrify those who hear it, leaving any survivors with a lingering memory. Raw recruits who survive an encounter of goblinoids often find themselves marching in step to a half-remembered tune of their enemy.

This is not how Lord Baltimore sang, though to a trained ear it is clear that he is familiar with the hobgoblin oral tradition of Battlesong, in fact he is a master. The song he sings now though uses the same deep resonances but is in Common, fully comprehensible and disarming in its melodic simplicity. His syncopation mirrors the skip of the heart of the song's heroine as she first sees her true love; his modulation pounds in the chest of his listeners as her heart breaks when he betrays her; the barked growls, which betray the singer's origins, echo with the emptiness she feels as she wanders the shore, turning in to the waves, and continuing to walk.

[/sblock]

Creeping out from whatever shadowy location he had been in, Baleful listens to the song quietly.


Sung in chord of battle hymn
Hark Goblin and Man
Prometheus bound in chain

See I knew you were from the prophecy.

Baleful sits down next to Lord Baltimore as if they were old friends, smiling, We are getting closer everyday you know! Granted some mistakes have been made, but things even out in the wash. Lovely song there, except the sad part... Not because of your singing, it's just so sad. Do you know any songs that end happily? If not, we may be in trouble!

The Gnome looks around as if the whole of the world may jump up and attack them even where they stand. Baleful doesn't wait for an answer, he quickly runs behind a barrel and hides.

Well... the barrel whispers, Do you know any happy songs?

 

[Kobold Stew]

"Happy?" Lord Baltimore asks of no one in particular. Then, with apparent seriousness, "Why would one learn a happy song? Unless there is pain, there can be no beauty."

He stops leaning against the wall, lifting himself with a sigh that suggests he understands how disappointed the wall will be without him nearby any longer. A final glance towards the city gate shows a noticeable absence of local guards, which Lord Baltimore tries not to take personally; perhaps they are in fact needed elsewhere at this moment.

He begins his walk along the road. The weather is comfortable, and he rolls up his sleeves, revealing more scars along his forearms. These scars have been deliberately placed, straight lines that interrupt the even pattern of his fur, and are clearly the result of a protracted torture at some point in Lord Baltimore's past.

He does, however, continue to sing, as he walk the six miles to a wayside tavern. The song is not constant, but it is clearly intended for the gnome's enjoyment. It is, in its way, a happy song. Its rhythms roll like a sea-shanty, and the tale it tells is of a halfling prince who wanted to visit the moon. He finds himself a kobold nest, and waits for them to emerge, one by one. One by one he kills them, and each time he bodies their bodies on top of each other, building his tower to the sky, "...as he stacked all their bodies to the moon, oh! Yes, he stacked all their bodies to the moon."

The song is carefree and silly and improbable, with each verse seamlessly modulating up a semitone as the hero climbs higher, the tempo increasing slightly as well.

 

[tiornys]

[sblock=context]

-=-=-= Near the edge of Sif forest =-=-=-

Vi'kandrix and his new found companions are talking over his resting place when the sound of a bird is heard, then a second time. It seems to be some kind of eagle to an unused ear, but Vi'kandrix knew well that was the sound of a singing arrow, used for warning. And it seems to come from the mountain side not too far from here.

[/sblock]As Vi'kandrix finishes inviting the elf, his head snaps back around toward the mountains. His eyes narrow, and a feral gleam briefly appears in his eyes. That was a signal arrow--a warning. Danger is near. Come. We must hurry, but not so fast that we lose caution. Suiting actions to words, Vi'kandrix moves quietly into the forest, murmuring May Corellon guide us to our enemies, the orcs. May Corellon shield us from their eyes. May Corellon strengthen us against the children of Gruumsh and the followers of Bane.

[sblock=OOC]Vi'kandrix is moving with stealth but he's bad at it unless we're level 4 or higher, in which case he's mediocre. I have him narrowed down to a Longtooth Cleric or Paladin.

t~[/sblock]

 

[pathfinderq1]

As Vi'kandrix finishes inviting the elf, his head snaps back around toward the mountains. His eyes narrow, and a feral gleam briefly appears in his eyes. That was a signal arrow--a warning. Danger is near. Come. We must hurry, but not so fast that we lose caution. Suiting actions to words, Vi'kandrix moves quietly into the forest, murmuring May Corellon guide us to our enemies, the orcs. May Corellon shield us from their eyes. May Corellon strengthen us against the children of Gruumsh and the followers of Bane.

"I can only think that the 'danger' involves our friends," Iceclaw responded. "If you would come with us, then you have my thanks," he said to Vi'kandrix, while to the nameless elf, he added "and if you would join us, now is the time to decide."

"For either of you, stay with Snarl if you're coming. I'll take the point, and he knows well enough to stay with my trail." With that said, he turned back to the forest- he managed one long step, but before he took the second his form blurred and changed. Instead of a slender young shifter, the form that moved through the underbrush was a pale-furred panther-like shape, the snow leopard of the high mountain peaks...

Snarl took one considering look around him. With a sound halfway between a frustrated growl and a weary sigh, he reached back and drew the massive sword from across his back, flourishing it as if getting ready for immediate trouble. "Let's go! Once he does that, he ain't gonna wait around," the larger shifter rumbled...

 

[tiornys]

[sblock=context]

"I can only think that the 'danger' involves our friends," Iceclaw responded. "If you would come with us, then you have my thanks," he said to Vi'kandrix, while to the nameless elf, he added "and if you would join us, now is the time to decide."

"For either of you, stay with Snarl if you're coming. I'll take the point, and he knows well enough to stay with my trail." With that said, he turned back to the forest- he managed one long step, but before he took the second his form blurred and changed. Instead of a slender young shifter, the form that moved through the underbrush was a pale-furred panther-like shape, the snow leopard of the high mountain peaks...

Snarl took one considering look around him. With a sound halfway between a frustrated growl and a weary sigh, he reached back and drew the massive sword from across his back, flourishing it as if getting ready for immediate trouble. "Let's go! Once he does that, he ain't gonna wait around," the larger shifter rumbled...

[/sblock]Vi'kandrix takes a solid grip on his spear in one hand, and draws a javelin with the other. Looking at Snarl, he says, Lead on. I will keep up as best I can. If the elf wishes to join us, he can no doubt catch up, and if not...

Vi'kandrix's words trail off as he follows Snarl and Iceclaw towards the mountains. Continuing in a low murmur, as if speaking to himself rather, he adds, ...if not, we have no time to convince him otherwise.

[sblock=OOC]Seems like Minirogue may have gotten busy in RL, or lost interest.

t~[/sblock]

 

[Kobold Stew]

When he arrives at the tavern, it is soon after midday. The small cottage is one of a number of small establishments dotted along the roadside. In this case, The Corrall is a white daubed farmhouse with a patchy roof, a small circular window as if it had been designed by a midshipman, and a dozen tables outdoors in a wooden enclosure three times the size of the house itself. Most of the tables are empty, and Lord Baltimore finds himself a spot in the lee of the house, where he sits in the shade. He unclasps his scabbard from his sword belt and places it horizontally in front of him. It is his experience that outside of cities people respond better to his appearance, and a gesutre like this lets anyone know that while he is prepared to fight, he does not plan to do so at this time.

After a while a young human server comes, and flips her hair, as she takes his order, some roast lamb and bread, and a bottle of white wine.

 

[Velmont]

-=-=-= Mountain Side =-=-=-

Stonebearer was figthing his back against the cliff. Three orcs was on him, but he was holding good. He was blocking the retreat of his fight mate. The elf was coming back, with the dwarven cleric and Piper. The two first just got out Piper from an overwhelming force. "Time to go!" tells the elf, but as he turn around, a small troop of orcs appear on the pathway. As they about to fall on the three, a fireball explode in the middle, throwing one down the cliff, burning many of them.

"Thanks, Magnus!" A dwarves is standing a bit higher, on a ledge. An halfling appear behind the group and throw a fury of shurikens. Two more orcs fall down and others are blinded. The band havn't yet the time to recover that Kolvram fall on the group, quickly putting two more down.

-=-=-= Mountain Trail =-=-=-

Vi'kandrix was leading the group. The sound was close. It was farther up, along a trail that lead to a monastery. Before they get farther, he stop the group. Iceclaw and Snarl and there mysterious companion stop just behind. Vi'kandrix points a group of orcs that is preparing an ambush. More probably for the group that seems to fight the orcs further up.

 

[pathfinderq1]

(On the trail):

Iceclaw had moved back with the group, allowing Vi'kandrix to take the lead since he seemed to know the area better- the three shifters set a fast pace through the woods and up the trail into the mountainous area. As Vi'kandrix waved them to a stop, Iceclaw shifted back from his snow leopard shape, but his careful crouch still showed a feline grace. He looked over the orcs that Vi'kandrix pointed out, his eyes narrowed in concentration. "Do we attack?," he purred. "We have the element of surprise- but we could probably get around them if we wanted..." He looked behind them, down the trail leading into the trees. "And is that elf still coming, or is he going to stay down in the forest?" They hadn't seen the nameless elf since they left the treeline, but his falcon was still (barely) visible high above...

Snarl also flicked a brief glance back, but most of his attention was fixed on the orcs ahead of them- the expression on his face might have been barely-contained anger or something disturbingly like hunger. He did not speak as he waited for Vi'kandrix to reply- but kept up a quiet growling...

 

[pathfinderq1]

(On the mountain):

Stonebear held the point of the small group's formation- behind the bear-shaped faceplate of his helm his eyes were alert, and the glittering tip of his glaive lashed out whenever he saw an opening; each sweeping blow was accompanied by a furious bellowing roar. He kept a wide stance, barely moving as the group slowly began to fall back down the trail. He was obviously content to continue fighting as long as there were orcs in sight- but he was ready to move if the others demanded it. An elf, a halfing, and several dwarves seemed to have joined the fight here- he wondered if they had allies nearby...

Piper slipped into position behind the enormous goliath, hiding behind his massive armored form with obvious relief. She watched the fight developing around them- both the new (presumed) allies and the growing number of orcs. There were more orcs here now than they had seen before- obviously more than one warband had made it through the mountains, which was troubling. She kept a running commentary one the fight, switching from elvish to common and back as she spotted both potential threats and possible openings to attcak- Stonebear responded almost reflexively to her high shrill shouts, and even their new friends profited from her keen eye. She kept her bow ready, but with few arrows left she shot only when she had to- her advice was far more valuable than her archery. "Come on, then," she coaxed, trying to draw the group together. "Let's move, up the trail. They've picked this spot to their advantage- we can't stay here..." While the goliath seemed ready to comply, Piper waited to see if the elf, dwarves or the other halfling would accept her suggestion...