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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 190588" data-attributes="member: 143">Book IV, Part 13“Remember that time we took on twenty hobgoblins?” Benzan said, as he checked a orc quiver for any usable arrows.  His suspicions about the quality of orc fletchers confirmed, he tossed the quiver casually aside.  “I don’t remember it being this easy that time.”“I didn’t have the power then that I have now,” Delem said, shielding his nose against the foul odor of roasted flesh that rose from the battlefield.  “They were overconfident, and it cost them,” Jerral said from a short distance away.  She was looting the bodies in a more methodical fashion, darting quickly from one smoldering corpse to the next.  “Next time it won’t be so easy, I think.”Benzan walked over to where the body of the ogre lay, the creature’s muscular form impressive even in death.  “I hope there aren’t many more of you back home,” he said to himself, running his hand involuntarily over his throat.  A scar still ran there, despite Dana’s healing of the wound.  He saw something that glimmered slightly around the thing’s neck, and got closer.  The dead ogre wore an amulet on a throng around its neck.  It was a crude device, forged in iron, shaped like a bull’s head.  When he grasped it, he thought he felt a tingle, just for an instant, then he cut it free and examined it more closely. “I don’t recognize this symbol,” he said, as Jerral came up behind him to take a look.“Nor do I,” she admitted.  “But I don’t like the look of it, all the same.”  “Let’s go see what Cal’s gotten out of the prisoners,” Benzan suggested.The tiefling, Jerral, and Delem rejoined their companions, who were standing over the tightly bound forms of the two orcs that Cal had trapped in his web.  One of the orcs was chattering on his guttural language, which seemed to suggest that Cal’s new charm person spell had taken hold.  Dana, as always, was translating its responses using her spell of comprehend languages.  “What have you learned thus far?” Benzan asked as he came up to join them. Cal looked up at him.  “Well, it’s not good.  Apparently there’s a sort of alliance between the orcs and the ogres in this region, several tribes of each from what this bloke’s describing.  The ogres are the dominant faction, but it goes beyond brute strength.  There’s an intelligence behind it all, someone or something calling the shots.”“And ogres aren’t known for their intelligence,” Benzan noted.“Right.  Apparently Obould Many-Arrows himself has sanctioned the alliance, though he’s not directly involved with what’s going on way up here.”“Who?” Delem asked.“‘King’ Obould’s name is well known in the North,” Lok said.  “At one time he ruled the fortress of Felbarr, before dwarves and men from Silverymoon took it back.  Last I heard, he was still head of several tribes in the mountains to the south, although he must be getting on in years, now.”“Oh, he’s still tough enough, tough and canny as he ever was,” Jerral added.  “It would be just like him to stir up some trouble up here, to distract attention from whatever he’s planning further south.”“Any idea who’s leading the ogres?” Benzan asked.“Apparently, they’re all followers of some sort of ‘bull-god,’ at least from what we’ve been able to figure out from this orc’s ramblings.  They’ve got a holdfast near here, although the orc says none of them have been allowed inside…”“No, don’t tell me, let me guess,” Benzan said.  “Caer Dulthain.”Benzan didn’t need Cal’s reply—the way Lok’s jaw tightened at the mention of the name told him the answer.  “So now what do we do?” Delem asked.  “I’ll admit, our skills have grown considerably, but we can’t take on a whole tribe of orcs or ogres, let alone several.”“Why do I get the impression there’s more?” Benzan asked. Dana answered him.  “The ogres have taken over an old iron mine the dwarves had abandoned, in the vicinity of Caer Dulthain.  They’ve got some dwarves, along with some Uthgardt tribesmen they’ve been able to capture, and they’re using them as slaves to extract ore they’re using to forge weapons.  The orc says that they’re shipping at least some of the weapons south, to Obould’s armies.”“Oh, why does this sound familiar?” Benzan said, with a groan.  “We should return to Adbar,” Jerral said.  “The dwarves should be notified of this… not to mention the leaders of the Marches.”“Yes, they should,” Benzan said.  “Except that if I know my friends here, we’re not going back… in fact, we’re going forward, and we’re going to rescue those prisoners from their captivity and be noble and self-sacrificing and probably get ourselves killed…”“Perhaps you and Jerral can go back together, notify the dwarves…” Cal began.“Now, don’t you start,” Benzan said.  “That’s not what I was saying and you know it.  Just because I’m saying something logical doesn’t mean that I’m going to do something logical, you know that.”“Good, I was just checking,” the gnome said.  “So, let me get this straight,” Jerral said.  “The five of you… without any backup, intend to head into a region controlled by an alliance comprised of several ogre and orc tribes, attack a well-defended strongpoint that’s just a short run from the main headquarters of the leaders of the whole operation, and then escort the prisoners right out from under their noses?”“Um, yeah, I guess that’s about it,” Cal said.  “You guys are crazy,” Jerral said.  “Count me in, of course.”“Excellent!  The gnomes believe that six is a lucky number, you know.”“Twenty would be luckier,” Benzan grumbled under his breath.</blockquote>

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