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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 200097" data-attributes="member: 143">Thanks, guys!  Horacio, I'm glad you liked that quote.  Lok doesn't say much, but I try to make his statements memorable (he's a bit of a philosopher beneath that warrior exterior, I think).  Maldur: welcome back!  I'm still a bit ahead in the story, so I can promise another post-a-day week... and another dramatic ending to this week's storyline (although we're still about twenty posts from the end of book IV).  Thanks for reading!* * * * * Book IV, Part 22Two days later, the companions stood at the edge of a canyon that stretched out before them like a slash torn in the land.  It was still early in the day, the sky above still covered by gray clouds although the snows had relented for the moment.  It hadn’t been too hard to find this place, given the rising plumes of black smoke that rose from the depths of the place, accompanied by a variety of foul smells and the incessant noise of heavy machinery.  The canyon was perhaps three hundred feet across at its widest point, although lengthwise it ran for several thousand yards.  From the companions’ vantage perched among the rocks near one tapering point they could see several trails that ran down to the uneven floor of the canyon almost two hundred feet below.      Most of the activity evident below was centered around the far end of the canyon.  Sprawled amidst the broken stone they could see several ramshackle buildings, several of which disgorged a constant stream of smoke and noise.  Slag heaps rose in haphazard fashion back from the buildings, and heaps of refuse and other trash were evident wherever a dip in the terrain offered a convenient dumping ground.  Through the haze that hung in the air they could make out numerous creatures moving about below; ogres instantly recognizable by their size, smaller armed warriors that were likely orcs, and other bent forms they took to be slaves.  Benzan’s keen eyes also noted several dark openings in the canyon walls, probably the entrances to mine shafts, and they could make out a dark pit in the center of the canyon, partly obscured by a large wooden A-frame that probably supported a lift.  Another lift was visible on the near side of the canyon edge, adjacent to one of the steep trails that led down into the valley.  Beside the lift stood another stone building, a squat two-story tower that also showed obvious signs of neglect and disrepair.Lok shook his head as he took in the scene before them.  “This is not the work of dwarves,” he said.  “Dwarves do not engage in such indiscriminate damage to the earth.”“We’ve been lucky thus far,” Jerral said, as she intently scanned the scene below them.The others silently agreed with the ranger’s assessment.  They had been fortunate, first in the storm that had concealed their continued progress through the mountains, and then in the good fortune that had kept them from running into any more enemy patrols.  At one point during a break in the storm they did spot a fairly large force consisting of several dozen creatures in the distance, moving south, but they were able to give them a wide berth and avoid being detected themselves.  Jerral had found an apparently little-used trail that had taken them around a cluster of peaks to this valley, where they’d started detecting the signs pointing to the mining camp within the canyon almost immediately.  Now, however, it looked like another confrontation was pending shortly.  “I don’t see that many of them,” Delem said.  “Orcs and ogres, I mean.”“Could be more of them in the buildings, or the mines proper,” Dana pointed out.  “In this weather, I don’t think I’d want to spend much time outside either, if I could help it.”Lok shifted, his face darkening as he made out something else amidst the clutter below them.  Cal sensed it, and asked, “What is it, Lok?”Jerral frowned, her stare fixed out into space like a dagger.  “Near the base of the far cliff, above the shaft openings.”  They all looked in that direction, but it was very difficult to see with all the smoke in the air within the canyon. “What is it?” Cal asked.  “I cannot see.”Jerral’s jaw had tightened, and her words were clipped and cold.  “There are captives… they are attached to the stone above the mine entrances, crucified.  I cannot be sure from this distance, but they look to be dwarves.”Lok rose, slowly and deliberately, as the woman ranger spoke.  He picked up his axe and started toward the stone structure near the trail that led down into the canyon.  He managed only a few steps before Benzan moved quickly to block him. “Get out of my way, Benzan,” the genasi said.“We share your feelings on this,” Benzan replied.  “We’ll take down the bastards that did this, but let’s do it right.  Jerral and I will go in first, supported by the magic-users, and we’ll strike before they even knew what hit them.  For all we know, there might be a hundred orcs and ogres down there—we’ll do none of the surviving captives any good if we rush blindly in, and get killed.”“We’re a team,” Benzan added.  “Don’t worry, we’ll have need of your axe soon enough.”Lok met the tiefling’s gaze squarely for a long moment, then he nodded.  “Let’s get ready,” Cal said, one of his wands already appearing in his hand.* * * * *“I hate this duty,” Throk said, shuffling his feet in an effort to warm himself.  It was a futile gesture; the same slits in the walls that gave them a commanding view of the surrounding area let the wind blast into the cramped confines of the tiny room with its full wintry force.  The room didn’t even have a stool to sit on; its only features were a crude wooden weapons rack and a ladder that led down to the guard post’s main floor.  “Ah, shut yer trap,” Uleg replied.  He leaned against the wall, drawing a whetstone along the slightly curving length of his sword.  “You rather be out in that, on one of the outer patrols, mayhaps?”Throk didn’t respond, and after a moment Uleg looked up at his companion.  The other orc was peering out through the slit that faced to the west.  The day was at least relatively clear, a break from the persistent storms of recent weeks, but even the diffuse light from the gray skies above, when reflected on the patches of snow all around, played havoc with the night-accustomed vision of the orcs.  “What is it?” Uleg asked, sheathing his sword and reaching for his crossbow.  “Thought I saw something, moving in the rocks,” the orc replied.  His companion squeezed into the narrow space behind him, and peered out across the uneven landscape.  “Ah, I don’t see nuthin’,” Uleg finally said.  “There ain’t a livin’ thing within ten miles of this place, save them damned ogres and their slaves down in the pits.”Throk didn’t respond at first, but as he scanned the terrain without seeing any other signs of movement, he relaxed slightly and leaned back.  “Yeah, I hate them too,” the orc said.  “We’re nuthin’ to them, you know.  Braxus, he told me that a few warriors of Gorux’s crew made a few snide comments around where Soroth could hear.”  His voice had dropped lower reflexively, although with the wind blowing as it was, even a dedicated eavesdropper would have been hard pressed to hear the words from more than a few feet away.  “Stupid,” the other orc noted.  “What happened?” “What do you think happened?” Throk said, forgetting himself and raising his voice in his anger.  Catching himself, he added, more quietly, “Soroth blasted them to pieces, of course.”Uleg shuddered.  “I guess it could have been worse.”Throk nodded, understanding what his companion was getting at.  Soroth was a horror, but he was nothing compared to his father, the being that the ogres called the Master…Their conversation was interrupted by an abrupt cry of alarm from below, followed by a gurgling of pain and blood.  The orcs shared a look of surprise, then Throk reached for his crossbow while Uleg reached for the horn that hung from a sling at his side.  But even as the orc raised the horn to his lips to blow a warning, a shadowy form slipped in front of the arrow slit right in front of him.  His eyes widened as he saw his death in the form of the steel arrowhead held at the ready in the hands of the archer who was somehow hovering right outside the slit in the observation tower, twenty feet above the ground.  He did not have long to ponder the answer to that mystery, as the long shaft of the arrow slammed into his throat, knocking him back to fall in a noisy clatter against the weapons rack.  Throk fumbled with his crossbow as the dark archer smoothly nocked another arrow and drew back the string.  Too late, Throk realized that all he had to do was fall to the ground, out of the line of sight of the opponent on the far side of the arrow slit.  Too late, as an arrow buried itself deep in the orc warrior’s shoulder.  Throk went down, his side a fiery blaze of pain.  He looked up to see Uleg propped up against the wreckage of the weapons rack, the orc’s eyes glazed over in that vacant stare worn by the dead.  The orc warrior called up a desperate reserve of strength to crawl over to the ladder, but he’d barely managed to drop his legs down into the shaft when he slipped and tumbled down into the space below.Throk landed solidly on his back on the packed earth floor of the guard post’s lower level.  He nearly lost consciousness as the impact drove a renewed pain through his entire body, and it was several long seconds before his lungs could draw a few tenuous breaths.  The world swam around him as he levered himself up on one elbow, trying to grab enough breath to call for help.  When he looked up he saw that he was not alone.  A small figure—a gnome, he belatedly realized—was standing there, holding a wand in one hand, and a small sword in the other that seemed to gleam with a pale inner light.  Throk reached for his dagger, but the world went black even before he felt the thrust of that shining sword into his chest.  His last conscious thought, strangely, was of relief, for even though he’d failed in his assigned duty, where he was now going, at least the Master would not be able to reach him and exact punishment.</blockquote>

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