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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Goonalan" data-source="post: 4189284" data-attributes="member: 16069">Castle Whiterock- We’re doing monk stuff here… finding things, and that.Turn 8.Castle Whiterock.“Korg demangs paymeng.” Ronnie continues.It’s the Half-Orc and the Dwarf that share a look this time, great axes to the fore the pair rush either side of the pontificating Paladin.WHAM-WHAMA double whammy, both monks have barely time enough to register what’s going on, Brother Jason is struck a very low blow courtesy of Twiglet’s axe, he expires very quickly, gibbering and twitching his hands still clutching the bloody spot.“Sorry, I’m… Sorry… I’m new.” Twiglet wipes his hands down his jerkin, smearing invisible blood.Brother Lee Love lasts but a second longer, Grungarak has greater reach, the huge monk makes a home for the Half-Orc’s great axe between his head and his shoulder, I believe the correct anatomical term to be the neck. He sinks to his knees and then topples forward, blood gushes and pools, finds its way to the lowest point in the chamber.“Perhaps next time you might want to keep one of them alive, ask some questions?” Gina huffs into the chamber.“Tithge themg.” Ronnie wanders over to the corpses, wading through blood and worse, unconcerned, and rifles the bodies- comes up with gold and two very crude looking, possibly silver-plated, holy symbols.“Dig yewg hag tog dog thag?” Ronnie stares at Grungarak. “Yewf.” The Half-Orc finally replies.Gina shakes her head, “sit down the pair of you, let’s get you cleaned up”, the Gnome unpacks her healing kit and gets to work on the myriad cuts and bruises that dot the combatants- its mostly superficial, in no time at all they’re as good as new, which let’s face it, is not very good at all- particularly the Paladin.Twiglet meanwhile has shut the only other door out of the ruined gatehouse, and barred it.They rest a moment as Gina takes a good look at the bodies, and the Paladin’s find. “Rough men, bandits”, she declares.“Not monks?” Twiglet asks.“Not unless they’ve got a note from the Abbot to wear armour.” Gina pulls back the robes on both of the figures, chain shirts beneath.Twiglet feels a little better.“Now these…” The Gnome looks again at the badly made holy symbols, “these are just plain wrong- bandits, or worse, they’re hiding something that’s for sure.”“Okay, let’s take a look.” Grungarak heads to the door.“Remember, one of them got away, they know we’re here.”The three nod back at the Gnome.Grungarak opens the door wide, light spills in, an ancient cobblestone courtyard- weeds have taken hold, low piles of rubble evidence here and there of walls and buildings long ago destroyed.To the east, maybe forty feet away the cobblestones give out to a bank of mud, the murky waters of Whiterock Lake lap and twinkle in the light. To the west, only thirty feet away, is a large wooden building, long and thin, with two sets of open double doors facing into the courtyard, clearly a stables- a horse whinnies within. Directly ahead, are a group of large tents, although they must be some one hundred and fifty feet away. Nothing stirs except a few flies that buzz.Grungarak shields his eyes from the sun and heads over to the wooden building in a low lope, the others, one-by-one, follow him over.To the south of the building are the high cliff walls, the same cliffs they saw from the shade of the woods, jutting from them is a high white stone wall, much marked by time, dotted with the scars of flame and battle. The wall must be some twenty feet high, and thick by the look of it, it curls round and behind the stables, forming a dark alley there.Grungarak leads them over, except for Twiglet who wanders, seemingly lost for a second, towards the cliff- way up he can see the spire they saw earlier, and a rough path up to it, he stores this information for later, then realises where he is and heads back to join the others.Grungarak is pressed against the worn wood of the stables when he returns, “There’s…”, Twiglet begins, but is shushed into silence by Gina.“Many horses.” Grungarak levers himself away from the wall, “I go.” The Half-Orc states and is as good as his word.Grungarak creeps along the edge of the building to the front, then round to the first set of open doors, there are indeed lots of horses within, he enters.Riding horses, mostly, there must be over twenty of them, although they appear to be a mismatched lot, many of them old nags on their last legs, a few young and lean- bred for speed, others working horses more suited to pulling carts and wagons. Grungarak heads along the line, as quietly as he can, whispering kind words as he goes, so as not to startle the beasts, all the way to the end of the building, he suddenly halts.ZZZZZThere lying on a pile of hay is another of the bandits, robes hitched up to reveal a layer of mail beneath, Quarterstaff leaning against the far wall and clutching to his chest an almost empty bottle of Cillamar Special Brew. The Half-Orc grins, approaches quickly and quietly and…THUMPBreaks the false monks jaw, Brother Beyond is unconscious before he’s awake. Grungarak grabs his rope, cuts a short length and binds and gags the man, who is barely breathing.Grungarak meets back up with the others at the far end of the alley, a whispered conversation ensues and another crude holy symbol is handed over.“Good work Or… I mean Ranger.” Ronnie offers and gets a grin back.Grungarak leads them over to the tents, there are five of them- one for stores, three sleeping quarters- although the beds are mostly unused, the last contains a number of crude tables on which are bits of pottery and odd-looking lumps of stone. They do not linger long here- Grungarak sets the pace, the group double back, keeping low to the stables and then follow the white wall around, there’s a breach ahead, a sea of loose rubble, it looks treacherous… dangerous.Through the gap, they spy the inner courtyard and the remains of the castle keep, the building has likewise seen better times, the corner they’re facing has fallen away, they can just see within, over another mound of rubble.Suddenly a robed man pops up from behind the second rubble pile, “we are the monks of the dawning sun…”, he disappears from sight suddenly, and then as suddenly reappears, “morning sun, apparently. Anyway, clear off.”The man struggles with something at his belt, it seems to be a small pottery jar, whatever it is he fumbles it- CRACK, the false monk engulfed in a yellow cloud- BLEURK, he’s sick down himself. He staggers backwards seemingly disorientated, then, once again, suddenly disappears from sight.TWONKA crossbow bolt thumps into the rubble at Ronnie’s feet, as one the group realise they make excellent targets, they drop and find cover, unleash their ranged weapons of death.TWONG & FWUNG x lots.A hail of bolts, there seems to be at least three monks firing at them.They give as good as they get.The air is thick with crossbow bolts and arrows.Actually it’s not at all.A stalemate plays out over the next minute or so, nobody hits anything of import, unless you count broken rubble.Eventually a voice breaks the missile frenzy.“Stop bloody firing will you.”The firing stops.Thirty seconds pass and another robed man stands up.“Didn’t you hear him, he said we’re monks, we’re doing monk stuff here… finding things, and that- now piss off.” The monk bobs back down. Gina, Twiglet, Ronnie and Grungarak huddle for a moment, Twiglet is elected spokes-dwarf.She stands. “NO.” Then ducks back down again.The firing starts back up again almost immediately.And continues for another thirty seconds before Twiglet and Grungarak have had enough; needless to say no one is hurt in the barrage, on either side.“Aaaarrrghhh.” It’s a collective expression of their frustration.The pair shuffle hop and scramble up and over the first pile of rubble, Ronnie and Gina provide covering fire, the monks shoot back but the pair make their way to the second pile without mishap.They begin to scale the rubble, Grungarak is forced to duck and take cover, however he gets a good look at the chamber beyond- a rough barracks, rows of cots, most look to have been used, a crude fire and cooking pit, tables and chairs scattered, the chamber has no ceiling and so is well lit. There’s a rubble-choked hole in the far wall, an open door heads in the same direction, and about the chamber are four more of the false monks. One lies on the floor washing his face vigorously, another two are heading for the door, while the last is keeping the Half-Orc pinned down with his crossbow.Twiglet has better luck, he scrambles down the far side of the rubble pile and comes up almost face-to-face with the crossbow wielding false monk, who fumbles his weapon and reaches for his staff.But not bef-FWUMP-ore he’s almost cut in two by Twiglet’s great axe, not to be out done Grungarak quickly follows in and is on the false monk completing his ablutions- CRACK, and the man is unconscious.Not content the Half-Orc runs on- following the fleeing false monks through the door and out of the chamber, Twiglet is still stood there, admiring his work- actually not admiring, he’s still not used to the blood; when Ronnie and Gina scramble into the room.There’s a buzzing noise.High up on the wall, next to the breach is a hornet’s nest, the swarm of tiny creatures seem to be unconcerned with the events of the day so far, Twiglet prays they remain that way.“Aaaargh.” The Half-Orc screams.They race after him.</blockquote>

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