Chapter 9: Death in the Family Continued
Hope this update makes sense. I'm kinda exhausted...so I hope it didn't turn out too badly. Enjoy.
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Fitz, Tobias and Magnus stepped between the armored guards and onto the dirt road heading north. Motega hadn’t rejoined the group in the short walk from inn to city gate. So the three companions walked at as steadily a pace as Fitz’s heavy armor would allow in the general direction of the mines.
Within a quarter hour the group stood on the top of a rounding hillock, staring back at the gates of Dun Moor. Still Motega had not made his appearance. However, a group of seven men slowly paced toward the Heroes of Marchford. At the distance, no distinguishing features could be found on the men except for the gritty silver-sheen of a pickaxe. The Heroes turned and resumed their own pace, hoping to outdistance their stalkers.
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Motega paused in the overgrown shadow of a green-filled alleyway. He had allowed himself to fall behind his comrades to watch their steps. As they neared the gates, Motega ducked into the side street hiding inconspicuously behind an overly-large fern.
Quiet minutes passed, swallowed only by the typical hustling sounds of impatient city-goers and merchants. The day was heating up quickly; beads of sweat gathering on the Rornman’s brow.
A large man scuffled out of a merchant’s tent near the main city street. The layers of dirt and stink nearly covered the balding patch on the top of his head. Nearly, but still the soft shine of sunlight glanced off the already sweaty skin. A large pickaxe rested seemingly carelessly on the shoulder of the giant man. His knuckles, white with pressure, told another story altogether.
The man leaned back inside the tent and shouted a quick unintelligible word. He then headed toward the city gates to leave. A moment after, six similarly armed men followed.
Motega waited as patiently as possible, allowing the stalkers time to get out the gate. Then, soft as a shadow, the Rorn slipped from behind the shrub and out the city gates.
The group of seven followed the path of the Heroes of Marchford. Motega saw an opportunity and ducked into the same forest Calyx had disappeared into.
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The Heroes of Marchford stopped their march. They had been walking for two hours without gaining a lead on their seven pursuers. Tobias had called a halt to their walk, deciding to settle whatever was to occur then rather than later.
Still Motega had not rejoined the group. Worries of their comrade would force them to return to the city if the Rornman did not show up soon. So patiently, the trio waited in the early morning sun for their stalkers to join them.
The group of seven stopped their own march. Twenty feet distant, both parties sized each other up. The large man with the pickaxe, obviously the leader, paced three steps forward. Hanging freely around his neck, a circular medallion blacker than pitch absorbed the summer light.
“Come now, Priest of Ceria,” the maliciously grinning cleric began. “If a follower of Cula Vak can openly display the accoutrements of his church, then so can a follower of the Lady of the Harvest.”
“Cula Vak?” Magnus whispered, “but that’s the god of the…”
“The underdark,” Fitz finished. “The evil god of the forsaken creatures of the deep.”
The priest of Cula Vak grinned at the recognition and bowed humbily.
The Rornman nocked an arrow in his bow. Steadily he moved the pickaxe-wielding leader into his sight. He breathed deeply to hold the arrow and bow steady. If this turned nasty, Motega swore, first blood would be his.
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Honestly at the time we thought we weren't going to see the light of day again. We had no clue how many followed us back down the tunnel. I think I was only 3rd or 4th level at the times so mass damaging spells either.
