Whom the gods would destroy...

[Pariah]

As soon as Koschei finished gnawing his way through the bindings on his left hand, Dujek dragged the gag out of his mouth and began work on the other side, keeping an eye out the whole time for anyone approaching.  Hurrying through the knot as fast as he could, hoping that he'd at least be able to untie himself and run before any of his hosts showed themselves.  Mumbling to Koschei under his breathe, "You might as well leave now, it took you a while to get through that one rope; it'll be quicker if I do the rest."  Struggling with the knot Dujek's cracked mind formulated a plan to extract his revenge on this town.

[Siren no Orakio]

Arising from his knee, his prayer complete, several of the nearby plants caught his eyes. But Adan suspected that it would be too little, too late, save for those which lead to plans that churned his stomach. Other plans would take time, though there were certain things he could do. Plucking several of the leaves, he quickly wrapped them in a cloth, and began to shade towards Kadarin. The wizard's abilities would be critical to surviving this night, he expected.

[Murometz]

Lord Waltor Reymar's Tent

The human leader’s pavilion did not stink as bad as the ogre tents, which was nice, Kyrian thought as he slid beneath the tent-flap and stood up cautiously, his feline eyes scanning the room.

He first noticed the rather over-large bed, where a heavy-set, black-bearded man snored on his back, an empty drinking horn still clutched in his meaty hand. A gauze-like, mosquito canopy shielding the bed, prevented Kyrian from getting a better look at the sleeper.

Besides the snorer on the bed, there was a finely-crafted table and several chairs. On the table was a map of Landeel, as well as a diagram of the dam and some scattered letters. Cliché-ridden, the map was yellowed and stabbed through with an ornate dagger, whose pommel held a small dark gem.

In another corner of the pavilion, stood a large wooden chest (closed). A fine suit of burnished, full plate armor was draped across the chest, appearing as if a drunken knight had collapsed on top of it. A long sword scabbard hung on a small hook. It was empty.

The leader’s tent was deathly quiet, except for the snoring and the occasional sounds of shuffling feet from the two guards outside.

[EchoMirage]

But an eyeblink Kyrian hesitated.

Then with a mischievous smile, he returned for a stout wooden hammer used to affix tent spikes. Slowly, he lifted the mosquito net aside.

The enemy commander would be valuable alive. "Lights out" he thought as he brought down the mallet square across the snoring drunk's head.

[Murometz]

Ser Waltor Reymar’s snore was rudely interrupted by the hammer blow, yet only a brief, muted noise followed, as the head lolled to one side. The guards outside made no move or sound, as Kyrian paused to listen.

Somewhere in the vicinity of the camp however, he could make out the hyaenodon’s nighttime laughter.

[EchoMirage]

On the watch for signs of the vile hyenadon, Kyrian snuck out of the tent again, barely containing the euphoria brought on by his most devious plan.

Into a blanket he rolled the enemy commander after tying him and plugging his mouth with a wad of fabric; very much like the 'rollschinken' the Northerners ate he looked.
 
Surreptitiously, the knight  removed the wooden braces under the wheels of two provision vagons, and gave them a shove downhill, towards the ogre encampment. The guards would have their hands full keeping their supplies from their ever hungry allies!

Broadly grinning, Kyrian dragged his bounty in the direction opposite to the mayhem.

[Siren no Orakio]

At the sound of the hyaenodon, a single hard shiver floated down Adan's spine, and he began to creep forwards, listening for the further racket. But what was the signal for help, and what for mere chaos? As he stood there, one hand upon the hilt of his blade, he decided he would listen most closely to the sounds on the air. After all, a kicked cat yowls.

Meanwhile, his other hand idly fingered the pouch which, he could only hope would smoke in great quantities once lit aflame, hoping it would not be needed.

[Murometz]

Aerex Matare and Dujek Slack-Jaw

"We've got to find a way to release him before they execute him. You're a lord; can't you pull some weight against the mayor?"

“Yes, well, I suppose I could—wait—you are in league with a necromancer?” Quorridge arched his bushy brows. “Aaah, Jantir, where there is no evil, no absolutes, just shades of gray, and everyone is a friend, and no punishments await the vile, only kind words and rehabilitation”…Quorridge annoyingly pontificated about his favorite subject, Jantir (and its follies). He had no love for the place.

Noticing the look on Aerex’ face, he stopped himself.

“Very well my anxious friend. In the morning, we will go see Mayor Orensil, and determine whether or not this Dujek, who you seem so fond of, deserves absolution or death by Fire-wheel. Does this becalm you?”

Quorridge went back to eating his egg.

After dinner Quorridge rose, belched, rubbed his belly with a queer look upon his face and excused himself.

“Till morning then, Matare. I got us two rooms, your room is third door on left on the second floor. We will rise at dawn, see if we can do anything for your necromantic friend, then ride north as before, to seek out the evils that plague our ancient lands.”

Without waiting for a response, Quorridge belched again and went upstairs.

---------------------------------------

The next morning sometime after dawn…

Aerex just stood by the bed in a daze, gazing upon the still form of his erstwhile bald-headed travelling companion. The innkeeper’s daughter and a wizened apothecary were examining the now dead Lord Quorridge. The apothecary mumbled something then gently closed Quorridge’s eyelids. “Peace be with him”, he muttered now, and turned to Aerex.

“I’m afraid he has expired, during the night. There is nothing we can do now. Excessive flatulence and a weak heart, did him in.”

Aerex, still somewhat in shock, opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped, as he heard some commotion outside. Glancing out of the inn-room window, Aerex could now see a procession of townsfolk. The parade of people seemed to be leaving the town, taking a well-trodden path, which led out of Miesingholdt and gently sloped downhill.

"Ah, is it the Day of Worms already?" Mumbled the apothecary at Aerex’ quizzical look, “They are off to see a miscreant roll and burn upon the Fire-wheel,” he added casually, then, “Will you be uh—donating some coin for his Lordship’s burial? Or have you some other arrangement in mind, for his body and his possessions?”

[Murometz]

Meanwhile, a few miles west of town...

After much grunting and bloodying of wrists and knuckles, Dujek finally managed to free his second arm from the Fire-Wheel but the momentum of the release, sent his body slamming downwards face-first into the rocky ground, still attached to the wheel by his ankles.

Moaning in pain and attempting to click his dislocated jaw back in place, Dujek noticed Koschei was already gnawing (as futilely as before) on the rope attaching Dujek to the wheel by one of his ankles.

Hurry! Hurry! The lizard urged the necromancer telepathically. You can moan later, free your scrawny legs! The mob is coming!

Indeed, as Dujek rolled to one side, contorted his body, and began feverishly untying his second ankle, he could make out a cloud of dust on the horizon. He could hear the townsfolk now too. A few minutes at most, and they would arrive to set him alight.

[Pariah]

Hurrying to untie himself the rest of the way before he was used as a ritualized group bonding exercise, Dujek mumbled about the "idiot commoners" and their inability to recognized when someone was an "artist" versus a hazard to all human life.  Finally, after what seemed like forever he managed to get his first ankle free.

"Shoo you, I'm pretty sure I can get this done quicker than you," he said, before shoving Koschei off his other ankle and started to free that ankle as well.

[Murometz]

The Dam Camp

Many things happened at once.

The supply wagons Kyrian had set loose began their slow roll, and gained speed as they neared the ogre encampment. One careened off a rock, and went spinning directly into the ogre’s nightly bon-fire, coming to an unceremonious stop. Within seconds hungry flames had engulfed the canvas. The second wagon had crashed into an ogre pavilion, as ear-splitting sounds of splintering wood and tearing cloth muffled the groans of what must have been several ogres inside.

Chaos soon reigned, as still-drunken and woozy ogres emerged from their impromptu huts and wigwams, confused and enraged. One ogre literally began to scream when he noticed the sign of Ze’Thot on the forehead of another, and before long they were pummeling each other, one terrified, one perplexed.  Elsewhere, another ogre was shouting something to the skies, and pointing at Kyrian’s art-work upon his pavilion. A fourth ogre was in a panic, as he ran from his hut, tossing salt from two ogre-sized shakers in each fist all about him, as he emerged. A fifth ogre blew a great war-horn, his intent unclear, but the sound could be heard for miles.

Some few other ogres however, were less bewitched and flummoxed. At least four could now be seen donning their chain-link armor, and hoisting massive pole-arms, at the behest of one particularly large specimen, who was roaring commands and instructions at the others, while brandishing his fearsome-looking axe, his bat-skull earring jingling.

Uphill meanwhile, at the human camp, Waltor Reymar’s men-at-arms were faring better than the ogres. Before long, the men were assembling, and moments later an alarm went up, when a few ran out of their missing Lord’s pavilion, gesturing and shouting at their fellow soldiers. Other men ran toward the tethered horses, while yet others , admittedly,  were stunned, staring at the bedlam that engulfed the ogres' camp.

Lastly, a few men, and even an ogre or two, began to scour the horizon, away from the respective camps, searching for potential enemies.

All this and more saw Vorodon, Adan, Kadarin, and Kyrian, from their respective vantage points. Whatever Kyrian had done they realized, it had seemed to work, and yet, the true danger was only now materializing itself.



---------------------------------------

Waltor Reymar opened his eyes, the pain in his face overwhelming. Through a fog he could make out a fuzzy feline face, staring back at him. Was he dreaming? What the hell was happening? He closed his eyes again, still too woozy to focus. His skull ached. His body felt constricted.

--------------------------------------

Unbeknownst to anyone besides the Hyaenadon, the creature had been selecting a target, and now having done so, ignoring the commotion around it, it began to stalk its victim. Lowering its massive jaw and beady, angry eyes to the ground, it loped in its awkward gait, at turns snarling, at turns laughing its hideous laugh.


Mouse edged closer to Kadarin. It was apparent to even him, from even this distance, that the hideous creature was approaching the companions general area, and that all hell was about to break loose, again.

[Siren no Orakio]

Gesturing to those he could see, trying to get them to draw back into the woods, Adan began to draw backwards, deeper into the woods, hoping to leave a trail for the hyenadon to follow, leaving behind a trail of his soporific herbs along with it. Most important, he suspected, were the wizard and Mouse. The others would be able to survive a moment of battle with the beast, but those, perhaps not, and that would be more than a little troublesome.

[Dozus]

Aerex glanced back again out the window, the crowd grimly jubilant. He looked back to Quorridge as though for an answer, but the now former lord only lay there, pale and already stinking. He shook his head as though to clear it. "What possessions did he have with him?" he asked. "Take whatever costs of the arrangement out of those, and bury him according to the regular custom. I'll take whatever goods he has remaining and find their way to whatever kin he has."

He looked to the innkeeper's daughter. "Please, can I trust you to make the proper arrangements?" He licked his lips nervously. "I have a very pressing appointment to make." Without waiting for an answer, he stepped quickly out the door, breaking into a run as he went outside ahead of the crowd.

[EchoMirage]

Merrilly, with a spring in his step despite the rolled-up commander's bulk, Kyrian hauled his prize towards the rest of his merry band.

Or, less than merry, as it seemed. Kadarin covered, Mouse very much so, Vorodon stood battle-ready with an expression much like a storm-beaten cliffside. Adan did share this attribute, but that could be written off as a constant.

"Rejoice! As surely as the spring makes meadows and damsels bloom, have I brought you a Lord to lord over. Which, if I am not mistaken, might make you all more than lords!"

Unceremoniously, the half-naked were threw down the carpet roll, sweat glistening over his countenance. "Adan, dear friend - would you be so kind to take his Lordship off my hands? I am notoriously inconsistent in my dealings with the nobility - and you may show him a more proper conduct, one that is conductive to his cooperation."

He curtsied, then proceeded towards his padded quilts and armor.
"One last humble request - pray, instruct your foemen next time to be commanded by gnomes or halflings. Verily, they are easier to carry."

[Siren no Orakio]

Adan almost cracks a smile, despite the laugh of the hyaenadon, yet it is with a total deadpan look and flat tone that he nods. "I will relay your request to my lord Trigu. Perhaps he will inspire diets among our foes."

Turning his eyes to Reymar, Adan took the time to check the lord's bindings, wanting to keep him from escaping, and to keep him mute, a make shift gag of cloth and rope, before loosening his sword, sliding it from its scabbard. "I pray, my Lord, that you have the patience to wait a few moments for us to conduct our business. We have a few simple requests of you, and would happily release you to go about your way, once you accommodate us."

[Wulfhere]

Chaos erupted within the Volgotoi camp as Kyrian’s tricks played out, yet Vorodon feared that their baffled foes might regroup.  The ogres’ vile leader had his wits about him, and a group of loyal followers who still posed a threat.

While Vorodon was quite proud of his improvised “wood spirit” disguise, the smeared mud and leafy branches now seemed unlikely to frighten off such a determined foe.  More preparation was needed.  Yanking forth a pair of his prized darts, the warrior jammed them butt-first into the ground behind a moss-covered log.  Their gleaming points hidden by the underbrush, the weapons might easily maim a foe who recklessly leapt the log without looking first. 

Rising to his full height, Vorodon’s deep voice thundered out from among the trees.  The speech of his ancestors rose easily within him, so much simpler than the Common Tongue’s confusing terms.  “Doom unto the eaters of soulless cattle-meat!  Doom unto the builders of dams!  The spirits of earth and water see you!  The ghosts of the uneaten rise against you! Ze'Thot, the Famine-Bringer answers their call!  Flee, for the Kired’ley have come to devour your souls!”

Stepping back, the warlike Son of Gorye drew forth another pair of gleaming missiles and prepared to cast them at the ogres’ hulking chieftain.

[valadaar]

Kadarin stood back ready, interposing a tree between himself and the enemy.  He could strike out at the heynadon, but doing so would likely attract the entire camp their way. 

Best to follow the others - his spells had a habit of being ... indiscriminate, in their nature.

[EchoMirage]

"No haste in advertising our presence is necessary" Kyrian mused as he strapped on his breastplate. Then, the helmet. He'd see soon enough what portion of the elaborate plate mail he'd manage actually wear to battle.

[Murometz]

Aerex and Dujek

"Yes. Yes, of course. And what of his horse?" was the innkeeper's daughter's answer. But Aerex didn't hear it, as he ran from the room.

Racing out of the inn, and onto the town's main street, Aerex was soon amidst the procession of townsfolk. He managed to nearly get ahead of the crowd, and was now hearing snippets of the mob's cacophony...

"He should be no trouble by now. Three days of no food, and only rainwater"

"Remember the last time? The wheel burned down before they it even came to a stop."

"What say ye? will he reach the river or die first?"

"A necromancer. Has to be. He was speaking with the dead, when we arrived at the mausoleum."

"Watch the miscreant burn! Death to the warlock!"


Leading the way, Aerex noticed, was Orensil the Mayor. It had to be him, all portly and important-looking, with a torch in one beefy hand, and some scroll in the other, the mayor was already red-faced from the walk, though the parade of executioners was just now heading out of the town's gate. Disturbingly, Aerex also noticed the ubiquitous tools of the mob's trade. Pitchforks, cudgels, staves, and torches (though it was broad daylight), were wielded by nearly all. Even the children accompanying the procession seemed intent on mischief, wielding sharpened sticks, while singing unsettling limericks about burning witches and rolling wheels of flame.

Peering ahead, Aerex could make out a long road, sloping gently downhill. In the distance he could see some gigantic wooden contraption. This had to be the wheel.

[Murometz]

Dam Camp

As Kyrian donned his armor, and Adan addressed the addled Lord, Vorodon's mighty yell echoed across the rolling hills. Though still far from melee, the ogres and humans both, looked up and spied the mighty half-ogre. The humans joined in a column formation and began to jog in the half-ogre's direction, swords drawn. The ogres, or at least the ogres that were led by the bat-skull earring giant, likewise began to quickly cover the ground between their camp and the adventurers-upon-return.

The hyaenadon meanwhile, loped along, well ahead of its ogre masters. As it neared, it let loose a slew of disturbing noises and yelps. Its target was close now, and it was excited. Much to Kadarin's chagrin, the wizard noticed that the foul creature's target was indeed him and Mouse. A mere fifty yards away and closing, the beast kept coming.

(OOC: hyaenodon rolls 5 for initiative. Kadarin has to roll. The others still have two rounds of action, before the combined forces of humans and ogres close in. To help Kadarin and Mouse against the giant hyena, would require one turn to move closer to him, then initiative.)

------------------

In answer to Adan, Lord Waltor Reymar merely moaned, only half-awake and still suffering from the effects of hammer-to-face.

[Wulfhere]

Switching from the ogres' hill dialect to the Common Tongue, Vorodon's shouted words dripped with contempt.  "Chiefbig no big now for to fighting Vorodon loneself? Infressing Vorodon moreness each stef! Coming fight Vorodon for with all, fearhungered eater-by-of-cow!"  He punctuated each garbled threat with a dart, hurling his deadly missiles at the charging hyenadon. 

Between throws, Vorodon eyed the rapidly approaching foemen.  Soon he must unlimber his axe.  Hopefully, the fools would stumble onto the darts he had planted among the undergrowth, but any enemies too cautious to fall for them would be easy meat for the Volgottir's massive axe as they moved to engage him. 

Edited slightly, now that I have specific distances:  Vorodon will keep throwing his darts (and insulting the enemy chieftain) until melee becomes imminent.  He will switch to target his approaching foes once they come closer than the hyenadon, favoring the easiest targets first. 

[Siren no Orakio]

Rising from the newly tree-shackled Waltor, Adan scowled, dragging the short blade at his side from its sheath. He began to move, as best he could through the brush of the forest, in the direction of the wizard. Letting the man die would be foolish at this point. Ogres, men, hyenadon.

"Stellen sie ein!," he bellowed, at the top of his lungs, the sharp notes of command in the order to halt. "We have counted coup upon you, Men of Von Hellen, and would have our ransom for your Commander!"

[Murometz]

If the soldiers heard Adan, he could not tell at first, as Reymar's men kept coming--indeed a well trained unit--but then he could see a few lead men look up in his direction. Like a giant metallic centipede, the band of thirty changed course, and were now heading toward the Adan, more-so than the raging Vorodon, as Adan raced toward Kadarin, and the guillotine-jaws of the hyaenodon.

Just as smoothly, suddenly the centipede flanked, and ten men still in formation separated without breaking stride, shields raised (in defense from potential Vorodon missiles), making their way toward an anxious Kyrian, as they spotted him up a small hill, donning his plate.

The ogres meanwhile just kept coming, determined, if not methodical. At Vorodon's challenges and insults the lead ogre bellowed and yelled something only Vorodon could understand, yet all involved heard his harsh shouts.

"Half-breed?! Mad like beef-hornet! No fear ME womanly tricks!!", then garbled in ugly common, "Now beating-heart belong to ME! " The giant raised his axe in turn, a weapon as mighty as Vorodon's axe, and more even more gruesome, if that were possible.

He gestured with his arm toward the four stalwarts behind him, and they broke off now as well, two ogres veering in the direction of Kyrian, and two ogres leading the chief's charge at Vorodon, acting as meat-shields, for the chief, in case the darts being fired at their pet, changed their course, suddenly.

Kadarin did not panic as the deadly-looking primeval beast neared, though Mouse did...

...suddenly the creature seemed to stumble, breaking its awkward stride, its legs almost giving out beneath it's weight. It made a horrible sound just then, a thousand screaming demons, but then recovered, and kept coming, only to have another one of Vorodon's darts pierce its side, and sinking deep. The hyaenadon yelped, but its eyes were mad now, and whatever pain it endured, it seemed to want now to inflict upon Kadarin ten-fold. That is, until's Kadarin Web spell effectively stopped it in its tracks, the creature looking almost pathetic now, as it struggled against the suddenly materialized icky strands of blackness, which covered it like thick molasses.

Just then, Vorodon noticed that, which he had been marking. The two ogres forming a wall in front of their raging chief were coming for him, and were now officially closer to him, than the Hyaenodon. It was time. They were heading directly for the log, across from which Vorodon stood, least of all expecting to run upon giant caltrops in the ground.

As ten soldiers, and not far behind them two ogres, neared Kyrian, the cavalier was almost bedecked in full. His sword arm tingling with anticipation.


Things were getting complicated.




(ooc: Wulf, rolled for darts. Hope you don't mind...just so that a round didn't take a day . If you want to roll however, i'll change it! Two hit, 10 dam combined. Btw, we no longer have a rolling mechanism in forum   Maybe everyone can PM a bunch of rolls, or i can roll for everyone behind the scenes, or you can roll in chat and copy/paste, or umm, i'm open to any and all suggestions on the "dicing issue")

[EchoMirage]

"Gallantry is anathema to you, common ruffians?" Kyrian was quite irked at the opposition not waiting for him to don all his plates.
"Then gallantry shall be foreign to me!"

He raised a fist towards the heavens, catching a ray of the breaking dawn in the mailed hand. Suffused by its glow, he appeared to grow, felt strength surge through his limbs, roared as a lion feral!
(OOC: Bull's Strength!)
"I took your commander from under your nose, henchmen! Hauled him like the wayward child he is! So back off, run to your burrows! Or you shall flow as a river of minced meat, with your liege as lardy toppings!"

"The wise who surrender are free to join the winning side. That would be us."

Kyrian joined Adan's side, then.

[Dozus]

Aerex's stride slowed at the sight of the looming wheel, the meaning of its name sinking in. Seeing the mayor, he ran up to him, straightening his posture as he approached. "Honorable Mayor Orensil," he said with a half bow, walking backward and keeping pace with the mayor. "I come with an urgent message, and on behalf of the Lady Thea Hellschwert and in the company of the Lord Otto Quorridge. I beg your audience to explain myself." He panted, trying to keep nobly composed.