Making his way to the door, Gurgun takes a good look at the white-pelted creatures scattered across the floor, trying to figure out what manner of creature they are, and if they died fighting the orcs or along side them. He helps Ioadem on his feet and will carry some gear for him should his weakness be overwhelming.

OOC: I assume the STR depletion is taken for Gurgun himself and not the enhancement given by the bull's strength spell?

Iodaem grabbed the arrow from the floor, and placed it in his quiver, trying his hardest not to give off any signs of the weakness he felt now.  "Let's go," he whispered to Authiel, and nodded, shaking his head at Gurgun's offer of help.

They went for the door that the orcs suggested, and it slid open easily. Behind there was a short stairway leading upwards to the balcony where the orcs waited. It was a dizzying journey making their way up a flight of transparent steps with no rails.

They soon reached the balcony, where another door led east, another north, and the stairs continued much more narrowly to a trapdoor in the ceiling.

The orc that had done all the talking held out his hand. "Give arrow back now." he demanded, though there was a note of pleading in his gruff voice. "We need it if more shadows-that-walk come."


OOC: Current Location: Contested Tower, Area #13

Easily seeing through Iodaem's attempts at covering his weakness, Authiel took his left arm and slid her hand down into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze and staying very close to him while they walked.  But it was clear by the way she went stiff when the orc requested the arrow back that Authiel didn't like that idea one little bit.

"No.  We're going to head further into this tower, and find the source of what has happened here - it will serve both of our interests better for us to hold on to it.  And unlike you, we actually have a competent archer among us," Iodaem stated matter-of-factly, and made no moves towards handing the arrow back to the orcs, instead gripping the elven glass-blade just a bit tighter.


OOC:  Not sure if you want to count it as Diplomacy or Intimidate, but I have the same bonus to both, and will take 10 for a total of 22.

The orc looked sideways at Slove and frowned. Wheels turned in his brain. Elf, archer. He scrunched up his brow, frustrated. If the human was an orc he'd just hit him until he gave it back, but they needed all the help they could get. "We talk to Thraka. He sort this out." There! Pass the problem upwards.

In orcish, he grunted at the other orcs, ordering them to remain at their posts - or else. Nervous, they returned to their watch.

"I am named Gorthos Stinkaxe. Uh, it why I am archer. Follow me, go only where I go, step only where I step."

Gorthos led them through the north door, and into a bare room filled with the tangible smell of orc. There were five of them, sitting or lying listlessly about on ragged bedrolls scattered about the room, though they kept to the corners. One was asleep. Two played a game of dice and knucklebones. Another was combing his greasy hair with a fine brush that he must have found somewhere in the towers.

And one orc sat upright in his bedroll, hugging his legs and pulling his head in tight. He could be heard muttering to himself occasionally, and he constantly rocked back and forth, back and forth.

Where you take us? That one hurt?
Gurgun asks as they walk through the room.

"To see Lieutenant Thraka, in next tower." Gorthos answered. "Here is orc room. Next room is hobgoblins." He was chattier to Gurgun than the others, probably because he was most familiar. "It is good that you came. We need the reinforcements. Many have died, or..."

Referring to the disturbed orc, he answered bluntly "He is coward."

Gurgun simply nods at that, feeling himself tense slightly at the prospect of meeting a room full of his brethren. His allegiance with the Seekers might not be well received.

Slove keeps his mouth shut.  This was going to be a fine line to walk.  The only thing he hoped was some answers may come out of the talk with the orcs.
With the numbers here it clear this was some sort of war band.  It also was clear the orc got problems with undead.  Either they just to many of them or type of undead was just to powerful for them.

The next room had been jammed opened with a large rock, presumably taken from the arrival island. Through here drifted wood smoke and warm air, a relief from the coldness they'd experienced in the twilight realm so far.

Inside was a small fire, built from bits of broken crates and decayed furnishing scavenged from around the tower, built directly onto the glass floor. Bed rolls, laid upon old mattresses, were lined up straight against the far wall. Three hobgoblins clustered around the fire for warmth, and talked in low voices. [Private to Gurgun Nightwhisper: They seemed worried, concerned about the mission and current leadership.] One was obsessively sharpening his sword, polishing it, checking the bindings.

As the newcomers entered, the hobgoblins immediately hushed and watched them. Cold and confused glares were directed particularly at Gurgun, but the hobgoblin warriors were disciplined and held their tongues.

Gorthos carried on talking. "This is hobgoblin room. Next we go across bridge to our tower, where you meet Thraka. He explain. And make you give back arrow." A nearby door led outside to a windswept bridge, back over the churning ocean.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:11, Sun 24 Aug 2008.

Gurgun greets the hobgoblins in the formal way used for members of other clans as they pass by, then addresses Gorthos as he leads them on.

Your tower?

Gorthos led them out onto the bridge, revealing a tall square tower topped by a squat pyramidal structure. The whole thing was translucent, almost transparent, and glowing with internal light. Two short turrets erupted from either side of the main tower. "Tower we have seized and made our base."

Another narrow bridge joined the towers, high over the boiling sea. Two ropes dangled down from the roof to the door that led inside the tower.

On the bridge was a hobgoblin, who immediately set his spear at the sight of the strangers. He and Gorthos exchanged some words, and finally let them pass, and slid open the double doors for them.

A vile stench blew out, and they entered into a small foyer. There lay a hideous creature, which immediately leapt to attention. It was like a large, hairless wolf, with pale slimy skin covered in bizarre abstract tattoos. It had no head, just a stump where its neck should have begun. Instead, a long serpentine neck erupted from the middle of its back, terminating in a grossly oversized maw filled with multiple rows of teeth. Though it had no eyes, the mouth-head turned unerringly to face the newcomers.

The orcs or the hobgoblins had given it a dirty blanket to lay on, and a bowl labelled 'Spot'.

Upon 'seeing' Gorthos and Gurgun, it laid back down, apparently disappointed.

http://fc07.deviantart.com/fs1...und_by_jdillon82.jpg
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:45, Wed 27 Aug 2008.

You find that thing here? Gurgun points at the watchdog.

Slove is very quite.  He make one or two looks at Authiel.  It clear the elf has some major issues with what going on.  However wisdom and age has educated the elf that sometime waiting your time is best way.
It his way telling other elf he see but not going say thing at moment.

With her arm still linked through Iodaem's, Authiel silently encouraged him to use her for support if he needed it.  She knew that something wasn't right with him, she just wasn't sure what.  Besides, being so close to him helped her to stay calm and feel a bit safer amidst all these creatures she normally counted as enemies.

Catching one of Slove's looks, Authiel innocently cocked her head to the side and gave him a questioning look of her own, not sure what was wrong or why he was looking at her that way.

"No, Tolg Beer-Eye give Spot to hobgoblins. He's their mascot... Uh, wait here." Gorthos growled a short phrase in Goblin - "No eat." - at the dog-thing, then went through the other door.

After several long and uncomfortable minutes beneath the blind watchful gaze of 'Spot', Gorthos returned "You may see Thraka now. This way." He lead them through the door, out of the foyer and deeper into the tower.

They entered into a large hall, brilliantly lit and full of the stench of orcs and hobgoblins that had lived for too long in close quarters with inadequate toilet facilities and badly treated wounds. It was obvious that they'd been camping there for some time, as evidenced by the many bedrolls, crates and barrels that used as benches for playing dice, and the odd bits of equipment and food scattered throughout, together with splatters of blood and muck. Everything smelled of stale sweat, decayed flesh, spoiled food.

High overhead, the ceiling was interrupted by a four-sided pyramidal skylight that let in a view of the night sky. There were four doors: the one by which they'd entered, one on the right which indicated further occupation, and one of the left which was propped open by a crate and was filled with darkness. The last door, directly in front of the visitors as they entered, was covered with a filthy sheet hung across the entrance.

In front of this a half-orc warrior sat atop a barrel, and met them with a dull-eyed gaze. Up to ten orcish and hobgoblin warriors were arrayed around the room, readily armed with swords and spears and watching the newcomers much more anxiously.

It was a long time before he spoke, a little too long. "Uh, I'm in charge here... I am Thraka. Why are you here? Hobgoblin, have you come to join Tolg Beer-Eye's mob?" He seemed like he'd once been a tough warrior, but now he was tired and worn, and his eyes were duller than usual for those of the orcish race. He was nervous too, glancing anxiously about.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:03, Fri 29 Aug 2008.

Very sensitive to foul odors, Authiel's eyes teared up and she had to place a small, delicate hand over her nose and mouth as she and her companionswalked in.  The pretty elf found everything about this completely wrong and...off...but she didn't say anything, instead focusing on not reacting to the stench while simultaneously being there for Iodaem in case he needed her.

I am Gurgun Nightwisper and I am free and part of no clan. I serve Oghma as a Seeker of Knowledge. This is why I come; to record knowledge, and to learn why this place is corrupt and spills over its evil into our world.
Gurgun strides proudly into the center of the room before addressing the chief.

He then pauses to see the reaction of the warriors.

A muttering and fidgeting arose from the ranks of the hobgoblins; Gurgun caught words in Goblin like 'outcast' and 'human pet'.

Thraka seemed heedless of it all. "And you others? Why are you here?"

Slove faces Thraka.
"I am Slove.  Elven Ranger.  I am here to find answer to what happen to the member of my race that use to live here.  In so doing I put aside my different between my race and yours to seek answer."

Slove careful to to sound aggressive but also not week either.

"The female elf and human beside her join me in this quest."

Jorn shuffled forwards and added "Ah, specifically, we came here to find a certain antique drinking horn lost by a merchant in the Yuirwood... Though if we'd known how far our search would take us, we wouldn't have accepted the commission. It's hardly worth all this." he sniffed. It wouldn't do to excite the orcs to the scent of wealth after all.

Thraka barely reacted to the tale, or the treasure. "We have not seen it... Gorthos says you fight well against the shadows-that-walk. That is good. We have need of fighters, and healers if you have any. You may camp with us if you lend your strength to our defense... We have food, water, weapons, that we can trade."

After a few short moments, Gorthos whined "Boss, they took our undead-deader arrow. Tell them to give it back."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:56, Mon 01 Sept 2008.

"Unlike your men, we actually have competent archers in our crew - leaving the arrow in our hands while we seek out the threats that lurk in this place is the only reasonable thing for you to do," Iodaem spoke up, standing up straight, locking eyes with the orcish chief.


08:00, Today: Secret Roll: Iodaem rolled 27 using 1d20+12. Diplomacy.