#33: Orcdoom

Zargon excuses himself from our company for a few days, giving Audric, Lom and I a chance to discuss potential ways to spend our time in Mirabar.  Of all the options that have yet presented themselves, the bounty on orcs, while a huge risk to our small band, is very appealing.  It could prove a profitable endeavor, and for me, a chance to prove myself outside of the parental protection of Zeb.  Thinking on it, I don’t feel the task is one of which he would approve—at least not without him and Bonie along for the journey—but that’s something I decide not to share aloud with Audric, and adds an edgy appeal to the decision that both frightens and excites me.

In our discussions about Mirabar’s surroundings and what to expect outside of the fortress walls, we learn one curious fact—the city of Luskan doesn’t exist.  After digesting the shock that accompanies that revelation, we learn that there is instead a ruined city named Illusk which was completely overrun by orcs a score past.  A lone outpost called Post South, which has earned the nickname of “Orcdoom,” lies between Mirabar and Illusk and serves as the launching point for outings such as the one we are about to take.  It is a minor haven for mercenaries, men of war, and others looking to take the battle to the enemies, with little beyond barren wasteland and orcs further west.

We also revisit the Sift & Skirmish Mining Company, as the option of accompanying an expedition to discover or clear a mine provides a level of comfort, but also comes with a level of commitment in the form of a contract that we might not be comfortable with at the present.  Along the way back to our rooms, I stop at a merchant and purchase a brace of knives.

We expect to encounter patrols of Mirabarran soldiers and other travelers on the way to Post South.  Our exit from the western gate is uncontested, and surprisingly, neither do we encounter any guards on our way.  Our conjured mounts eat up the distance quickly amid light rainfall, and as we get further away from Mirabar the land begins to level, eventually giving way to open plains.  We expect to complete the 20-mile journey in less than one day.

Upon our arrival, we see a stone tower, recently constructed, perhaps two stories high.  Less for shelter, it provides an elevated position from which lookouts can examine the horizon.  Torches mounted on the tower’s outer walls and bonfires amid the camp light the various thoroughfares.  In total, there are perhaps two or three dozen people manning the small military outpost.  We are greeted by guards and allowed entry to dwell among the soldiers and others currently staying at Post South as long as we agree to keep the peace.

As we dismount our conjured steeds, we’re approached by a soldier with the posture and carriage of an officer, likely a captain.  He introduces himself as Serrus.  He questions us again, and we see no reason to hide anything, asking what we should know about the area.

Serrus explains that recent hunts have been venturing north toward the mountains rather than in the direction of Illusk, and while there have been occasional reports of skirmishes throughout the early spring months, there hasn’t been anything truly notable.  A few bands have claimed bounties, a few others have departed Port South ne’er to return, but no activity outside of the ordinary.  I share a little about our experiences with goblins, creatures along the River Mirar and bugbears in the Lurkwood to the south, and he explains that orcs are similar in ferocity, but that their strength is best measured by the size of any bands encountered.

Captain Serrus asks us candidly whence we hail, and Audric explains that we’re from Dagger’s Deep, sharing the high-level details of the settlement’s growth.  Serrus’s eyes narrow at its mention, and he replies with a little disdain that he’s heard of it.

“Longsaddle,” I say, speaking for the group, when he questions where we may have lived prior to the settlement’s founding.  The answer doesn’t seem to raise any suspicion.  “Make the trek north,” he advises, “and concentrate on streams and other water sources.”  The guidance is well taken.

When asked if any bands have left recently or if there are any about to depart, he indicates that there are at least two groups away at present, and a third that has not returned and that he does not reasonably expect to.  He explains that there is one party here that may soon return to the city, one of their members falling ill, and another lone man who sounds of a mercenary for hire.  The practice is tolerated, but it doesn’t seem as though lurkers are welcomed with open arms.  Captain Serrus knows little about the man, nor will he vouch for him, and Audric and I agree we should be wary about accepting any allies.

A few moments later, a man shuffles up to the captain.  The man is young, perhaps in his twenties, dirty and disheveled, wearing a brown robe.  He speaks of a tent nearby where a warrior has fallen ill with a respiratory sickness.  “There’s nothing more I can do,” he explains, and before he departs, Serrus introduces the informant as Mycleth.

We can see that Mycleth bears a symbol of Lathander, and functions as the physician of the outpost.  Audric introduces himself, offering to share his services with those that might require them, and Mycleth thanks him.  Serrus explains that Mycleth is in the employ of the Axe, his abilities only being used to tend to the soldiery.

We excuse ourselves and settle in for the night, discussing plans for our departure.  We awaken to an overcast sky, and after checking our gear one last time, head out on foot for a long walk ahead.  Our journey north is meandering, having no real path or landmarks to follow, trusting in Lom to determine our the trail.  The going is fairly slow, Lom stopping often to examine a curious track on the ground or the horizon itself, and we cover perhaps a dozen miles before the sun begins to set.  Having not yet reached the mountains, we settle on a fire.  Lume is perhaps our best asset, possessed of keen senses, and we take what rest we can, the moon shimmering through the clouds above.

As we stand our solitary watches, we are given time to reflect on the peacefulness of the open wilderness.  Most of our camping has been done along the bank of the River Mirar or in the Lurkwood, and with only three of us, it’s impossible to ignore the quiet and sense of serenity, as well as the vastness of our surroundings.  The night passes peacefully, and we ready ourselves the next morning for another day of travel.

A few hours into the hike, we see the first sign of anything since leaving Orcdoom.  To the north and west, we spot a single plume of smoke rising, perhaps a mile distant.  “What are we here for, if not for this?” Audric asks, and I completely agree.  We make our approach as stealthily as possible, approaching a small hillock.

As we draw close, we can see that amid the rocks and natural formations are strewn about a handful of corpses.  The bodies don’t look like orcs or their kin, and Audric decides to send Lume ahead to investigate.  We wait impatiently, holding our breaths as we see her enter the camp and circle the small fire, and Audric empathizes with her sense of unease.  “Lume thinks there’s something alive,” he says, sharing information passed to him through his bond with the familiar, and we decide to approach as a group.

Closing distance, it’s clear that this was a complete slaughter, four fallen bodies around the waning fire, and it appears as if the camp was probably set upon during the night.  We don’t see any arrows in the bodies, and as Lom surveys the horizon we examine them.  All four are human men, one close in age to me, the rest older adults.  They are outfitted in leather armor, and we note a few errant weapons lying afoot.  Audric shares a mental moment with Lume, but before we can figure out what the cat meant by her original communication, we see Lom draw his bow and point it toward a nearby boulder, so we rush to his side.

On the ground, we can see a man with a ravaged leg, his clothing torn apart to haphazardly bind the wounds.  His breathing comes in inaudible gasps, and before Audric can approach to heal him, I lay a hand on his shoulder.  “We’re not here for this,” I say.

“Are we just going to leave him?” Audric asks, and I shrug.

“Healing this man and leaving him here is the same as not healing him,” I say, grimly.

“Should we leave him for the orcs then, or just put him out of misery?”  Though the question was meant to be sarcastic, I pull one of my knives, offering to do the deed.

“There are tracks everywhere,” Lom interrupts.

Audric steps forward and bends down to question the man, learning that they were set upon by perhaps ten or more orcs during the night.  “They sought only to kill,” the man says with tears welling up.  “They didn’t even remain to loot us. My son...”  The encounter was brief and deadly.

Audric questions whether we would fare any better than this group against such an attack.  “We know they’re coming,” I say, “where this group surely didn’t.”  Lom points to a set of tracks, indicating the orcs passage to the west.  The injured man’s raspy breathing is a reminder that we have another issue to settle before we can decide where to go from here.

I brandish my blade again, offering to send the man to whatever god he prays, but before I do, Audric and Lom share words about the meaning and possible repercussions of the deed.  Our options are limited—Audric can heal the man, forcing us to return to Orcdoom, or end the man’s life.  We decide, as a group, to end his life mercifully, and Audric pulls Lom aside as I step forward with my knife.

The man’s eyes go wide as I approach.  “To what god shall I deliver you, I ask?”  He begins to utter a prayer to Tymora, the Lady of Luck, and I quickly draw the blade across the man’s throat, spilling his lifeblood before his prayer is finished.  With an inconspicuous flick of my knife, I saw off one of the man’s ears and tuck it into my pouch.

The day being young, we decide to trust in Lom’s ability to track the orcs, the signs being recent and conditions favorable.  Before we do, we spend a few minutes poking around the camp, finding little in the way of value except a meager coin purse.  I take a dagger from one of the fallen as my own, tucking the blade into my belt.

Lom has no difficulty finding the trail, and before long corroborates the injured man’s tale about the size of the orc band.  The tracks lead generally west into the rocky hills, where the terrain becomes more difficult.  We fear that Lom may lose the trail, seeing nothing where the man is able to discern details and clues, and though he does seem to lose his way for a few moments, he eventually picks it up again as it turns north towards the mountains.

The tracks lead us to a stream, and even Audric and I can make out the muddy prints along the bank.  “They stopped here, perhaps to drink,” he says, pointing to another set that leads away and further north.  We pause briefly, then continue, wanting to take as much advantage of the daylight as we can. 

Before long we crest a small hill, then nearly gasp as we look down upon an encampment of orcs lying about.  We quickly count eight of the creatures, six asleep and two awake and apparently keeping watch.  Still fifty yards away, we see one of the watchers looking directly at us—before we can act, it starts calling out in its guttural language, and the orcs below begin to stir, grasping for weapons.

The two orc guards begin to charge us immediately, bringing javelins to bear.  Another pair begins loping up the hill toward us as the rest mill about below.  Lom and Audric bring bows to bear, Audric striking one orc, Lom missing his target.  Their second volley is fired into the pair of charging orcs, this time Audric missing and Lom felling one of the uninjured.  As they rush into melee, I sling a stone at the second wave—it misses, but Lom draws his sword across the wounded orc’s belly, slaying it.

Audric wades into battle with a pair of enemies, spinning in a wild attack that decapitates one of the creatures, but not before the second strikes a glancing blow on the warrior.  Lom fires an arrow before a quartet of orcs converge on Audric, catching one with a strike in the chest as the three others continue their charge.  Another orc lands a blow on Audric as I begin to weave an enchantment, my eyes turning opaque as the magic takes form.

Lom fires a second arrow which fells another orc, pinning it to the ground as it topples, while all around it the remaining orcs and Audric fall into fits of trembling as my magic grips their minds.  Catching Audric in the effect was unintended, and without hesitation Lom and I rush forward to cut into a pair of the creatures, striking them down.  One remains near Audric, gripping its head while shaking on the ground.  Lom steps forward to cut it while I begin to drag Audric away from the orc camp, hoping that the spell will subside.

Lom and his opponent trade feeble blows, our tracker becoming gravely injured despite the enchantment that clouds its mind.  I rush forward to assist him as the orc continues to pummel the ranger, the orc’s cudgel soaked in Lom’s blood.  Lom finally slays it with a cut across its face, spraying both of us with blood.

Audric finally shakes off the effect of my enchantment and tends to Lom, who is bloodied but still capable.  The orc camp, its inhabitants slain, is strangely quiet, and Audric and Lom provide cover with their bows as I slide among the bodies and begin claiming ears.  I take a quick look around and we grab a pair of longswords and a scimitar, all in serviceable condition, and make haste back along our trail to put as much distance as possible between us and the slaughter.

Lom is able to quickly retrace our way back to both campsites, and we arrive at the more distant, avoiding the site of the orcs’ attack on the human camp.  Audric tends to his own wounds once we stop for the night.  We build a fire, leaving burning brands nearby in case they are needed, and settle in for a tenuous rest.

During Audric’s watch, he senses something wrong, Lume perking up in the face of potential danger.  Suddenly, from the darkness, a pair of projectiles sail past Audric and land in the ground behind him.  Multiple sets of glowing eyes stare up at him from the darkness below.  Audric begins to chant and glittering golden particles cover a pair of orc ambushers.  Another volley of spears, this time from other directions, are hurled at Audric, one of them striking him in the chest.

The blinded orcs charge haphazardly up the hill to engage Audric and he swats their feeble attacks aside.  We can see the two orcs in melee with Audric, but I’m still not yet able to make out the location of the other attackers in the dark.  Lom and I converge on Audric’s assailants, hoping if nothing else than to provide Audric some relief.  Three more orc ambushers break cover, and our hilltop is entangled in a brutal bloodbath.

Lom cuts through one of the blinded orcs, and Audric fells another.  I’m struck by a glancing blow as I withdraw, but another lands a dreadful hit against Audric.  A pair of orcs brutally strike down Lom, while I weave a quick phantasm that causes one of the orcs to flee the fight.

Audric swats at the fleeing orc but misses, regaining his bearings in time to meet the onslaught of another attacker.  Blows are traded, Audric staggering, but Mystra’s chosen beheads one of the two remaining foes.

I bring another phantasm to bear in an attempt to cause the last remaining orc to fly, but I’m unable to insinuate myself into its psyche, the orc shrugging off the effects of my spell.  It turns and growls at Audric, felling him with one final, mighty blow.

Desperate, I rush forward with knives out, knowing that defeating this last enemy is the only chance of our survival.  We trade attacks, neither able to land a telling strike as panic begins to set in, knowing that Lom and Audric’s lifeblood are spilling onto the plain.  With one final cry, I thrust my knife up through the orc’s ribs, and we collapse together in a pool of the creature’s blood.

I immediately crawl over to bind wounds on first Audric, then Lom, my hands fumbling as I do my best to staunch the flow of blood, not knowing if my ministrations are enough to save either.  As the adrenaline from the fight begins to fade my hands begin to shake, and once stabilized I grab a nearby spear, in the case that the orc who fled the combat should return.  I pick up Audric’s axe, holding the weapon awkwardly, and wait for several long, tense minutes, listening carefully for the sound of any approach.  Lume paces nearby restlessly, and I watch the animal, trusting to her instincts and senses.  Staring into the night, a prayer begins to form unbidden, and I surprise myself that it takes the form of an appeal to Malar, the Beastlord, to watch over us in the night and protect my companions.  Before long, it becomes apparent that I must rest to regain my arcane abilities, as that seems the only possible way to transport the two unconscious warriors back to Orcdoom.  I fall asleep under Lume’s protection, awakening at some point during the day by the cat nuzzling and scratching at me. 

To the west, I can see a party of hunters atop a rise.  Still yet a couple of hills away, it looks as if the band contains four men, likely adventurers or mercenaries.  Remembering the fate I delivered upon the man with the wounded leg, I have no illusions about what such an encounter would mean for me, Audric and Lom.  At best, they would leave me and take what they wanted.  At worst, they’d simply kill me and loot our corpses.  I take my chance and wait, whispering another silent appeal to Malar.  It appears as if he is with me this day, and they do not approach, disappearing to the west.

I finish my rest and awaken, beaten but mentally refreshed, finally able to conjure a pair of mounts to bear the burden of Audric and Lom.  For a day we wander, resting only long enough to regain the power to summon forth more steeds, before eventually regaining the broken road, and not knowing with certainty the direction of Post South.  Knowing that Mirabar, if nothing else, lies to the east, I choose that path, and after another wearying hike, my mind nearly numb, I see the tower of Orcdoom on the horizon.