Remnants of the Horde:Mount Zuregath

[ferretguy]

As Forlash recovers his balance back on the chains near the machine, he sees the giants taking care of the malfunctioning apparatus. Sighing inwardly his relief of possibly being cooked inside a volcano via the lure of power and the desires of his mother, he is calmed with the knowledge that at least he is more fortunate the the goblin that is even now being eaten by Bargo. He moves to join with Durgo, he also can feel the palpable aura of death surrounding the little gnome, which in even with his past at his mothers house, twisted as it was,has a feeling of wrongness to it. Even more surprising is that the commander, with his record of slaying most who come before him, actually has not lifted a finger....

 

[Jeremy]

Bargo belches happily, licking the last tasty giblets of quivering flesh from his cracked, fire burned lips. The smile quickly fades as he is forced to look up at his damned father, standing in mid air, lording it over everyone.

If only that magic would give out right now. Durgo would look so perfect, tumbling end over end, terror in his every feature as he hurtled into the heart of the volcano. More scared then he ever made Bar--

No.

Durgo would die with shock on his face. Impaled to the hilt on Elf Splitter, pain and confusion written all over his face, his last breath spitting his life's blood on Bargo's face.

Mmmm...

The goblin remains taste so much better with Durgo's lungs, imaginary or otherwise, providing that perfect extra something.

 

[Jeremy]

Bargo growls at the itchy gnome. "What you want him spell it for you? You say you help, get to it before Bargo help Bargo to you!"

 

[doghead]

Tsu'koka, Hobgoblin Song Speaker.

Bargo was never one for mincing his words. Mangling them maybe. Tsu'koka grins at the thought.

He checks to make sure the giants are all alright. A look over his shoulder to see how Sroka and the hobgobs are doing. It takes a moment to spot the goblins - as usual they have found shadowed corners and concealed places to which to wait. Tsu'koka abscently scratches behind Blood's ears. He checks his equipment.

He reaches down to the quiver at his side and pulls the short comp bow and strings it. He pulls an arrow and nocks it in place. He needs to work on his shooting from the saddle he reminds himself, but now isn't the time.

 

[Capellan]

Wekerak slips from Frostbites back and moves quietly to a position some 25' to the side of the gnome. His bow is hgeld relaxed and ready, but he makes no threatening move, waiting for word from the leader of the Muragar.

 

[deadestdai]

Minions speak for you? I am sure you therefore deem me unworthy of your full notice, Captain. An admirable trait for a Muragar Chieftan. Thus making you worthy of my offer to share knowledge to find our Master. M'eli-Itchi looked about her to the gathered warriors. Calm down, I am no threat. I too am a loyal sevant of Zuregath and I mean to lead you all to him. I am also sure, that my talents can be well used to aid you in our journey.

And to get me out of here at the most opportune moment. The gnome thought to herself. I trust these not one bit, and they seem all too wise with foresight as to my early opinions of them!

Waiting for a reply, she made sure her stance was the least bit threatening, knowing that the slightest thing would get her killed. Quickly.

 

[deadestdai]

**OOC: ferretguy is having internet problems and won't be able to come out to play for a wee while, just wanted to let all know. we wish his crappy dsl company all speed with the recovery (though I doubt they will come through with the goods anytime soon :/)**

 

[doghead]

Tsu'koka, Hobgoblin Male Song Speaker.

Tsu'koka sits quietly, watching the new arrival and wondering how she managed to survive so long alone. She is smart, or lying about her loyalties.

"Whadda you think Blood?" he whispers quietly to his wolf. He doesn't, to be honest, really expect a reply.

ooc: Sense Motive +7.

Tsu'koka considers responding as the silence begins to stretch out to an uncomfortable length.

 

[doghead]

Tsu'koka, Hobgoblin Male Song Speaker.

Deciding that the Muragar can step in when he is good and ready, Tsu'koka straightens up in the saddle.

"Ho M'eli-Itchi. If you are as you say, then you are welcome. Forgive us if we are a little cautious. Those loyal to Zuregath and still alive within these walls have been few. The enemies of Zuregath would much like to see one of their own amoung our numbers. But that said and done, I am Tsu'koka, Song Speaker and, as you can see," he makes a small depreciating gesture, "Hobgoblin.

"And this is Blood." He reaches down and pats his dire wolf on the neck.

ooc: Bardic Knowledge Check - Has Tsu'koka heard of M'eli-Itchi (or one such as her) and if so, what does he know. Should have thought about this earlier.

Hey Deadestdai - Its pretty quiet at the mo', so I'm sure no one will mind if we keep ourselves occupied while we wait.

 

[deadestdai]

When the wolf riding goblinoid had finished, M'eli suppressed the urge to laugh. For a lowly soldier to be addressing her in so familiar a tone - If these had not been such dangerous times..... Sadly, she knew she needed these newcomers. If anything, it was good fortune that she had come across them when she had, for she was well aware of her chances of escape without them.
What could have been a smile appeared momentarily on the small gnome's features and she nodded slowly. Indeed, Songspeaker - great fortune has caused us to be brought together. Our chances of survival are now greater. I have been in the temple here in the citedal for three score years, learning the secrets of my Master, Nerull. She moves her hands to her forehead in a sort of prayer stance and her voice hisses, Blessed isss Hisss deathly shroud. Her hands drop to her sides again, suddenly aware that she was still being watched carefully and that her movements could be misconstrued as offensive. Under High Priest Rastleth Riktusgrin. He is gone now, his obvious foresight of the invasion providing him ample notice and opportunity to save himself. But not any others. She spat out the last sentence with a small snarl.