Revolt of the Red-Ears

Each make their individual preparations for the rest.  DonBrapp grasps his cube and clears his mind.
He is close to the source of the coin.  He can hear it sing back to the hammers of kinfolk; lovingly scraped out of the veins and into the carts…  but there are dark shadows in the caverns that give birth to this wealth.  Through one of these shadows you see familiar forms..   two-winged pig formed demons…  the shadows of which obscure a human skeleton in rotting red robes.   A large fire opal set in burnished silver neckless the only other visible, and his skeletal fingers are clearly evoking the movements for spellcasting.  Beyond, upon lavish black satin cushions sits the familiar face of an elven thief…  the Serpent appears to be speaking to this decaying sorcerer…   As their figures become more focused, they all pause as if sensing a change in the energy and look in your incorporeal direction…  before you awaken refreshed.

Kailute’s dreams are filled with dark stormclouds.  Persistent thundersnows shower the horde with snow…  endless digging.  Human bands smashed and broken…  desperate bandits roaming some passes…  supposed allegiances, but loyalties unknown…  the Red-Ears gather below and above…  seeking the command of Kargar…  Budrak is seen below providing a blood offering to Gruumsh, and naming Zengyhi as his enemy.  An enemy in an extremely unusually shaped castle.  citadel is clearly visible for miles. A solid wall circles the base of the fortress, which appears to be a tall cylinder surrounded by several narrow towers. Each of these towers is supported by a frail-looking flying buttress. The stone of the castle is black, streaked with red. It stands like a garish sentinel over an expanse of barren, lifeless wasteland. Even the rough grass that has grown elsewhere across the tundra has died here. The ground is cracked and broken in the area around the Witch-Kings fortress, as if supernatural forces had at one time wracked and twisted it.

Quilro dreams of being cold, sleeping within the lee of a snowbank.  Never able to properly rest… he dreams of wearily riding with orcs..  and a legion of marching dwarves…  and are those halflings…   it begins in the mountains… but soon switches to the ancient forests of Cormanthyr, where a graying but vibrant Quarthimus Eldarym is directing a mult-racial defense of the Academy of Wizards…  the dwarves and halflings in front making a defiant last stand as families, women and children flee to the south and west.   And then it is back, and now he is discussing with Kailute over a map, near a fire with many campfires and the sound of difference dialects can be heard on the breeze…

10pm 26 Nightal

The heroes shake the sleep visions from their minds as they gather their equipment and prepare to strike outward and upward back through the steading.

“Heroes, and that includes you Fyrnlocke, let’s strategize.  Vergadain demands we get to the bottom of the moral conflicts we face here.”

Fyrnlocke’s face belies minor annoyance at being so singularly identified.

“Much talk about eating babes and children and whatnot.  I’ve wandered the streets of Waterdeep and many the roads and forests of Faerun…  bested a many of the goblin kin.  I’ve yet to see an orc put a baby to it’s maw.  Do ye eat children, Greenskin?  Has anyone here ever seen an orc eat a baby?”  DonBrapp challenges earnestly to the group.
“Like veal?” Kailute responds sardonically.

It is confirmed that the stories of child consumption may be mildly overrated, and Kailute’s fashion sense mark him individually of a humanoid of superb taste, the suggestion of killing Tanthalas and then using him as a zombie is probably beyond the pale for Fyrnlocke and the rest of the heroes.
Quilro is internally disgusted by the open embrace of orc alliances and the raising of dead to support their activities.

Consensus is reached that the best course of action is to eliminate the hill giants from the steading and find more information about Zengyhi’s plans.

DonBrapp shares his dreams, as well as his intuition that the chamber beyond the ornate door probably holds an intra-planar chamber of some sort.

The meeting is closed with DonBrapp grasping Fyrnlocke’s arm and delivering some divine healing, and for a moment Fyrnlocke’s eyes mist over in gratitude.

The overt approach of three orcs from the east inform the party of visitors from the Red-Ears.  They are bearing worn sacks filled with dried moss, mushrooms, and what provisions they have been able to gather below.

DonBrapp gesticulates grandly and calls forth piles of fresh roasted venison, hare, various game and roasted vegetables.  The near starving orcs are amazed by the Dwarf’s power and the generosity of the heroes.  They refill their satchels with everything they can carry, and scamper back toward the caves of the Red-Ears.
Tanthalas shakes himself awake, and immediately grabs a winseskin.


“AMAZING!  Who created this feast?  Quilro is this your handiwork?”  He immediately digs in.
Several more orcs approach from down the hall and inquire about the rations.  DonBrapp makes a magnanimous offer and complements the offer of food with an electrum piece for each.

“The Red-Ears will not forget this DonBrapp and Vergadain’s gift to our tribe.”

The elves look on with mildly hidden discussed, and Tanthalas curses under his breath, in between bites to fill his sour stomach with the same pile of summoned food the orcs gather.

The Oriothar begin dismantling the wall, careful to further dispose of any incriminating orc remains contained within.

Kailute summons Budrak and explains their role in advancing through the dungeons on the flanks, using the bugbear barracks as the route as Quilro sneaks into the chamber for reconnaissance.  Budrak nods agreement and will lead his column surrounded by his elite guards.

DonBrapp summons Garlen and Graelen and provides them each a vial of enchanted liquid, with the instructions to wait until the battle seems impossibly lost and these concoctions will enable them strength and size of amazing proportions.

“Guard those well, lads.  They’ll crush and smash if yer not careful.”  Durnkin counsels.  Wide eyed, the Bloodstone lads gingerly place them in scavenged satchels for later use.

The dwarves report a ramp has been prepared, and it appears the fire giants remain at their posts.

Quilro is feverishly scribbling a letter as Tanthalas mumbles incoherently about the heartbreak of elvish ancestors knowing their descendants are allied to orcs and dwarves in a hole in the ground.

Above ground the early sun of 27 Nightal rises over the steading, but the companions below prepare for combat without seeing the majestic sunrise over a clear winter’s day.

“You planning on joining the fight, then?”  Kailute inquires of Tanthalas.

“Indeed!  You see this sword…”  the elf reaches for his hip…  “WHO HAS STOLEN MY SWORD!?” He storms, oblivious in his stupor that it is strapped to his opposite hip.

Quilro makes a motion suggesting that Fyrnlocke provide Tanthalas one of his magical swords… and the thief gives an incredulous negative look back.

Creeping over the rock ramp Quilro notes the two fire giant guards remaining at their posts, silent and wounded from unseen attackers.  Turning north, about thirty feet into the passageway a crude tripwire is set against pieces of a suit of armor.  The elf easily steps over the early warning system and proceeds toward the chamber.

Six hill giants are posted; one reluctantly awake on the last watch not-so-determinedly fighting off sleep.  The other five snore loudly on the floor or among the strewn rubble.  The northwest corner is covered in burned out debris, and the secret passage lies wide open immediately north of the stairway up through the pantry.
Kailute leads the remaining party members north through the foul bugbear barracks, sending a cold look toward Tanthalas and his endless bitching.  Fyrnlocke wordlessly moves behind the elf, sheathing his sword quietly.
The advancing orcs grab abandoned weapons as they move forward, and acknowledge Kailute’s direct through the rooms to the north.

One of the giants snorts in sleep as Quilro creeps through the space but remains asleep.

Kailute, DonBrapp and Fyrnlocke move as quietly as they can through the bugbear hovels and press their ears against the door.

Quilro nearly stumbles but corrects himself eliciting no more than a snort from the half sleeping hill giant pretending to be on watch.  Approaching silently, he thrusts the moonblade straight through the ear of the giant, immediately killing him.

One of the other giants awakes momentarily but is back to sleep before the enormous creature even feels the blade slip under his should piercing his heart.

“Hap!  Whoest thar?  RESCUE ME FROM THE DOGS!”  A voice calls out in common from the cells.
Quilro peers into the hallway, and discharges a sleep enchantment from his ring.  He silences the prisoner before slitting the throat of the next nearest giant.

One of the farther ones coughs himself awake momentarily.  Quilro turns invisible as the giant bolts upright at the sight of his fallen comrades and immediately sounds the alarm.

“YGARRK!”  He shouts as Quilro unleashes a searing volley of magical fireballs into the corner.

The concussive force of the explosion outside pushes the door to the bugbears chamber back on its hinges, and Kailute DonBrapp and Fyrnlocke push through to see the flaming carnage.

The two living giants leap toward Quilro but miss as they are still befuddled with sleep.

“Taste Gruumsh’ vengeance for the Red-ears!”  Kailute shouts leaping into the middle of the chamber and landing two slicing blows on the closest giant.

The dwarven cleric sprints forward almost too quick to be seen and crushes the knee of the second giant.
Unmanned by the assault of the heroes, the three remaining giants turn to flee.  Quilro thrusts his sword into one, and the barbarian conducts a spinning series of attacks that leaves one nearly decapitated and the other bleeding from two new wounds.

“Dogs of Zenghyi fall beneath the blades of the Red-Ears!”  Kailute shouts to the cheers of the orcs behind him.
Utterly disgusted, Quilro turns and half thrusts his sword, catching a lucky edge through the neck of a fleeing giant.

DonBrapp returns an underhanded strike against one, and then the party moves to follow.

“ORCS!  GIANTS!  FREEDOM!” Shouts Tanthalas from atop the barricade before stumbling drunk to the floor of the keepers chamber.   Durnkin appears next to him, shaking his head.

DonBrapp lowers the head of Buzzkiller and unleashes a devastating bolt of lightning that impales both giants before bouncing off the corner and back through both of them.  One falls dead while the other continues to flee.

Budrak and his guard run through the chamber pouring through the heroes to follow the fleeing giants to the north.
“Follow.  Get after them!  Now!”  DonBrapp utters, his eyes focused on the ground and the newly slain giants.

Kailute heads into a new room to the northwest where three additional warrior giants are waiting, and grab whatever utensils are at hand to hurl at the half-orc as he bursts in.

The din of smashing crockery and metal against the wall are the only results as the cohort of orcs passes the elf, he surreptitiously hastes them all with magic.  The orcs are enveloped in a magical light and they effortlessly overtake Budrak in their pursuit of the fleeing giants.

DonBrapp searches the corpses for coin before calling forth the power of the negative planes to infuse undeathly service from three of the fallen giants.

Kailute watches as Budrak and his cohort stream at a ridiculous pace to the northeast and what sounds likes stairs beyond.

Quilro enters the room behind the orcs to face the three readied giants in the room beyond.  To the south a portcullis is lowered preventing direct access to a room to the south.  The scent of an animal pen and the roar of a lion can be heard.

Quilro casts a series of magical missiles at a giant as two of them swing and connect to Kailute.

The half-orc parries one strike before countering with two solid blows that cut the giant wide open at the torso.  The grievously wounded giant attempts to limp away leaving two committed to the fight.

Quilro leaps toward the wall and thrusts his sword into the haunch of the giant.  As his thrust finds foe he feels an enveloping electric surge and is covered in purple light.  The giant explodes in wisps of purple gaseous smoke.  Quilro is empowered and confused.

The morale of the final giant is shattered, and he surrenders after the slaughter and strange explosion of his companion.

Tanthalas looks on wide-eyed as the dwarf raises three giant corpses.  He is impressed with DonBrapp’s explanation and ability and throws his sword down in drunken approval.

Several four-inch long quill spikes fly from the portcullis and impale themselves in Fyrnlocke.
“The feck is this?!” He shouts backing out of the line of sight.

Quilro peeks to the south and sees huge beasts, a mix of a bearded human head atop the head of a lion with bat-like wings protruding above the shoulders.

The one supplicant giant is cowering in the corner, and the closest drops his weapon and throws his hands in the air.

“This look like a prisoner taking situation?” DonBrapp asks no one in particular.
Kailute dismisses them deeper into the dungeon, while suggesting the heroes ascend back through the pantry to avoid the traffic of the Red-Ear onslaught.

DonBrapp pulls Durnkin by the shoulder.

“What say ye to a wagon full er dragon scales?  Have ye and yer kin the ability to craft some mail?”  He asks.
Durnkin looks mildly taken aback.  “Dragon scale?  Of course.  The craft is known to but a few of the forgemasters, but Durnkin be one of them.”  He says.

“Here?  Could yer team make such an item here?”

“Could.”  He responds.  “But wouldn’t want to see ya wearing it.  For the full honor of a set of Dragon Scale needs be fired on Moradin’s Rest, the fire seal of the Oriothar.  Liberate Hillsafar, and I promise you armor kissed with Moradin’s favor.”