Turn 86 -- Prisoners!!

As Kersath relays his dire news to the companions, a sense of dread falls over the members of the group.

"There's never any rest..." mumbles Ras after hearing the news.

Dain scratches his chin in contemplation, "What a fine kettle of fish we've fallen into this time!" Dain continues as a wicked grin spreads across his face, "I do, however, have one last trick up my sleeve. I must speak with Kersath on the matter." With a nod to Kersath, the dark elf and the mage walk away from the main group with heads bent together in discussion.

The other members of the company continue the rapid discussion of the circumstances. "Well, Talimar," begins Ras, "if you decide to leave or stay I want to set a quick trap. I will either use some of Ortho's vials and when they get close I will ignite them or I will trap the door when we leave. I do think head to head conflict would not be the wisest. I can do both and you all can leave early. I can easily outrun those orcs."

Ortho looks at Ras and then sets down his pack with a heavy sigh. Rummaging around in his pack, Ortho pulls forth a stoppered flask. "Ah hate ta be the bearer of bad news, friend Ras, but Ah only gave ye one o' me flasks. An' this one 'ere is the last tha' Ah have. An' it's ma turn ta 'ave some fun."

Clearing his throat deeply, Garth interrupts Ortho, "Discretion is the better part of valor. Let's close the door behind us and beat a hasty retreat. If that be not good enough, let us separate us from them by removing their most precious commodity, air. If we can set a large, smoky fire and then wedged the door shut we might buy ourselves some time. Shortly, there would be no more air in here for them to breath and they would have to wait for it to clear before pursuing us."

"Friend Garth, yer plan has merit, but Ah do not believe Druckner is in any shape ta be runnin' through these 'ere caves. We can hold this cave." With that said, Ortho grabs his axe with his shield hand and the flask in his sword hand then walks forward toward the opening from which the meanies should issue. "Druck, stay back an' use yer bow. Ye can't stand with me this time. Gnore, Ah'd be most honored ta 'ave yer company an' support. Ah think it's time we showed wha' a couple o' dwarves can do. Garth, you too if ye think ye can stand with us."

"Dain, any tricks ye might 'ave would be welcome. Ras, hit the shadows an' pick yer target. A timely appearance could turn the tide. Randor, Kre, try to keep 'em off of Druck and Tal while they use their bows. Kersath, do what ye do best. Let's go."

Apparently, the decision having been made by Ortho, the group takes up their positions to hold the cavern. At Ortho's request, Gnore nods and stands next to his dwarven kin with bastard sword outstretched before him. With a wink of his eye and a nod in Talimar's direction, Gnore suddenly flashes a wide grin despite the battle soon to erupt.

"You know Ortho, our leader may choose to leave this cave before the filth arrive. Then again, the daff elf fought these dead orcs tooth and claw like a beast while I opted to run away. Perhaps noble Talimar is more dwarven than he realizes or I'm more elven than I can stomach." Gnore roars with laughter at the point of his own jest as he awaits Talimar's chosen course of action.

Druckner laughs at Gnore's jest but stops immediately, "Oooh me ribs, that hurts." He slowly gets up and sets up his crossbow. He takes cover behind a handy rock. All the while he hums a somber dwarven tune, 'The Last March of Baran Ironblood.'

Talimar ignores the jest from Gnore and the laughter of Druckner as he takes his own position behind a thick stalactite. As he strings his bow and checks his field of fire, Talimar remarks with wonder the span of years that have passed for the huge stalactite before him to have formed. A span that even the long-lived elf can appreciate. His thoughts returning to the task at hand, he pulls several arrows from his quiver checking the shafts and fletching of each. He plunges the shaft's head first into the ground within easy reach and knocks his bow with his eyes on the opening and the forthcoming orcs.

Taking Kersath aside, Dain speaks in a hushed tone, "What if I were to tell you that I could give you a little extra punch if the upcoming battle were to occur? Would you be interested? It would cause you no harm and would only be temporary lasting for a few hours. For that time your strength would be increased to the point that it might even rival Gnore's. What do you say? It may prove immensely valuable."

Kersath's eyes brighten up as the concept of his own strength being modified takes form in his mind. Being a dark elf, magic is no new concept to him and he doesn't have the aversion shared by most to the ways of sorcerers. He turns to look at Dain, saying, "But won't that be a great effort to you? I mean, you are already not in such great shape and with the oncoming battle you might not be able to fight at all! How will you defend yourself?"

"Faw, I haven't even taken as much as a scratch," responds Dain. "It's nothing I haven't been through time and time again. Besides, this may just be the deciding factor in the upcoming battle. I would be honored in the task."

Eyeing the mage with a curious look, Kersath is rather surprised of the mage's ability to dismiss his weakness in such a manner. "I have yet to learn to appreciate you enough, mage. I do not know if I would be able to make that sort of sacrifice for a friend. But one thing is for sure, if it comes to that, you can be sure that I will gladly give for you more than I have for anybody else. You are a true friend, Dain." Realizing that, once again, he said more than he originally intended, Kersath takes a deep breath, "Work your magic, my friend."

Dain stands next to Kersath removing a tuft of thick, brown fur from his belt pouch. Placing the tuft in his outstretched right palm, he begins chanting softly. The mage closes his hand around the ball of fur and when it reopens a ball of shimmering golden light has taken it's place. The globe rises slowly, floats forward and rests above the head of Kersath. The light from the ball diffuses outward, seeping into his being. The ball slowly dims until it is no more.

Dain sighs and slumps heavily. Kersath grabs the mage immediately and remarks at how light he feels in his arms. Dain steadies himself with his thick staff, "There, it is now complete. May glory and valor be with you." Dain then shuffles over behind a large boulder and slumps to the ground, a splitting headache overcoming him and his ears ringing heavily. Sweat beads on the forehead of the mage despite the chill in the cave and he wipes it away with the sleeve of his robe. Taking out his throwing daggers and praying that he has no need to use them, Dain turns his eyes to the opening waiting for the onslaught.

Feeling the added strength of the mage's spell in his muscles, Kersath moves forward to take up a position on Ortho and Gnore's right flank. With a nod to his dwarven companions, a dark smile cross the features of the elf as the anticipation of battle courses through him.

The wait is not long for the companions as they soon hear the loud howls of the coming orcs. The beasts beat their weapons on their shields as they run, hoping to place fear in the hearts of the companions. The result does not have the anticipated effect as Gnore and Ortho hold their position, each anxiously awaiting the opportunity for their weapons to feast on the orcish blood once again. As the coming orcs enter the range of his heightened eyesight, Ortho can make out what appears to be ten orcs running up the passageway toward them, each with shield, some with sword others axe or club. With a smile, Ortho sees that they are foolishly running in close formation; too close to avoid his surprise.

As soon as the orcs are within five feet of the opening to the cave, Ortho launches his specially prepared flask into their midst. The missile strikes home, hitting the center orc full in the chest. The flask shatters, sending oil spraying onto several of the nearby orcs. The spell on the flask reacts and the fire-trapped flask erupts in magically induced flame. The orc initially hit by the flask is destroyed as its chest explodes and its body is consumed in flames. The four orcs near that one that were sprayed with oil are knocked to the walls of the passageway by the force of the blast, the flying flames quickly setting the oil on their bodies aflame. Screams of pain fill the chamber as the doomed beasts roll around trying in vain to put the flames out. The smell of burned hair and flesh flows through the cavern. The other five orcs continue through the opening of the cave and run screaming toward Ortho and Gnore.

Ortho calmly reclaims his axe in his weapon hand and waits for a target to come in range. "Come vermin! Feel the sting of the Chosen of Moraddin! Glory to IronRock! Pestkiller!"

The challenges of Ortho and the curses of Gnore are met with the howls of rage from the orcs. Four of the beasts move to surround Ortho and Gnore while the fifth moves past them to engage Garth. Kersath is about to move forward to help the surrounded Gnore and Ortho when a huge beast steps from the passageway. The creature before him stands a full seven feet tall and can only be described as a true mongrel. It apparently has bits of orc, orog and ogre in its ancestry. A gnarled snout growls at Kersath in challenge as the beast eyes Kersath. The huge orog is dressed in rugged orcish plate mail and carries a very fine, large spear.

Ortho is the first to react as he dodges a blow from the lead orc, sending his shield forward in a push he knocks the orc from its feet momentarily. The brief distraction is more than enough as Ortho drops his axe to bite deep into the orcs chest.

Although set for the charge from the orcs, Garth was unprepared for the savagery and skill of the beast coming at him. He absorbs one blow from the orc with his shield but a second sword thrust slides through his defenses and cuts deeply into his left side. Garth sets his jaw firmly to keep from crying out in pain and with a roar launches a series of vicious blows on the orc. The first batters his mace into the shield of the orc, the force of the blow knocking the beast to its knees. A kick to the chest sprawls the orc to the ground and Garth follows that with the death-blow from his mace. The orcs legs twitch momentarily as Garth pulls his mace from the orcs crushed skull.

Talimar, Druckner and Kre watch the battle carefully, each watching and waiting for a clean shot at the orcs. Each holds off as they fear an errant shot striking one of their companions. Ras moves to the shadows and draws his daggers, scurrying around hoping for an orc to present an opportunity for him to bury one of his daggers into its back.

At the cave mouth, Kersath grins at the orog before him, his twin longswords sliding quietly from their runed scabbards. With surprising speed, the beast moves forward to swing its massive spear down at the head of Kersath. The dark elf brings both blades up over his head with blinding speed, crossing them and catching the falling spearhead with with surprising ease. Kersath smiles and mentally thanks Dain for his incantation as he easily stops and holds the spear despite the huge beast's strength. Although quite happy to match the beast in strength, Kersath knows that the test of power cannot go on forever. Turning the blades above him, he carries the force of the orog and the spear downward and past him. Twisting on his left heel, he spins around and the longsword in his right hand glides forth to bite deep into the back of the orog. The beast howls in pain as it turns to face Kersath once more. As Kersath readies himself for another charge of the orog he notices a strong fishy smell coming from the beast.

Gnore and Ortho each avoid a series of blows from the remaining three orcs before them. The five combatants perform an intricate and deadly dance as the three orcs encircle the two companions who stand back to back.

"Feel the taste of good dwarven steel, you filthy dung eater!" curses Gnore as he dodges a sword thrust. His brings his own bastard sword around quickly and decapitates the unbalanced orc.

"Know the power of Tyr!" yells Randor as he moves forward to engage the second orc fighting Ortho. The orc, having its focus on its ancestral enemy, turns late to face the Hand of Tyr. Randor's warhammer comes crashing down into the chest of the orc, crushing its ribcage and crumpling it to the ground at his feet.

Feeling the surge of his dwarven blood, Garth steps forward and lands a hard blow to the right shoulder of the orc engaged with Gnore. The beast stumbles and fear crosses its features as it realizes it is now engage with two of the companions. Gnore does not give it long to fear though as his bastard sword thrusts forward, skewering the orc on the blade. Gnore smiles as he looks deep into the orcs eyes, watching the life slowly drain from it.

At the cavern entrance, Kersath and the orog circle each other as they try and land a blow to the other. Each trade ineffective blows and continue the battle when a shout erupts from the passageway behind them.

"Garundzer! Brkkt!"

The orog Garundzer stops its attack after hearing the order and takes a cautionary step back. Not knowing what is going on, Kersath holds his longswords defensively before him, waiting on the next move of the beast.

Looking past the forms of Garundzer and Kersath, the companions can see that three other orc warriors have entered the chamber; each wearing the crude leather armor of their now dead companions and carrying the familiar bloodskull shields of their tribe. There are also three other orcs that appear to be the leader of the tribe and his leautinants. The chieftain, Ogurkek, is dressed in fine chain mail and carries a nice battle-axe in his right hand. This axe is turned before him with the blade next to the neck of a ragged-looking dwarf held before him. The young dwarf is bound at his wrists and feet and appears to be rather malnourished, apparently he has been a captive of the orcs for some time. The other two orcs are dressed in chain mail as well, each with a long spear and shield held before them.

As the companions gauge the new entrants to the chamber, Ogurkek speaks in halting common, snarling, "One false move and the dwarf gets it!"