Hamnish considered the situation. A badly wounded (dying?) orc - perhaps a traitor, a desire to rescue whatever halflings remained alive, and the ever present necessity of speed to find Eythorial. Without better information, he felt trapped by indecision... If only he could persuade the wounded orc to reveal more. [Persuasion roll: 8] "Do you wish me to end your life with a beheading? You will be freed from revival." "Or perhaps I can help you..."
Selphina smiles and greets Sidra even though she is filled to the brim with anxiety. "Good morning to you, Sidra. I'm in the middle of running errands for the business. How are things?"
Does Selphina see anything around (Perception:5) or know anything about Sidra (History:6)?
The orc strains as if one last time at his bonds, seeming to have little strength to do more. At hearing the word help, his eyes flicker open and he stares suspiciously at Hamnish. "Do you help the cause against Izrador?"
Sidra smiles as she gets up and comes to lean against the little fence that encloses her green yard. "How nice! We are doing so well here. We've had such wonderful weather the past few days. Don't you agree? Pastor Turdon will be back within the hour, I think. Ah, I'm so glad my husband works so close to home!" She tilts her head back as she turns it proudly towards the little stone shrine a couple of short blocks away. "Legate Lukril is planning to come to tonight's service. Why, I think he might even wish to approve us." Sidra turns back to look at Selphina with an excited smile. "Have you time to attend the service tonight, Selphina dear? We would so love to have you. I know you've been doing shipping down the river in the past few weeks, but we do so miss seeing your little family around! And, you've not visited our beautiful shrine yet!"
In her anxiety, it's hard for Selphina to do more than concentrate on Sidra's words. Every movement or person walking down the street nearly startles her, and she has to make an effort not to look and see who they are. She of course is able to recall Sidra and her family from many deliveries that her family has made to the Hearthhome district. Many more well-off property owners live here, and they sometimes fancy unique goods not made locally that the river-cruising gnomes can easily provide. Sidra's husband, Turdon, is the leader of one of the two little shrines devoted to Izrador that many in the neighborhood frequently attend. These shrines are not official temples nor are they sanctioned by the legates, but the unapproved devotions are generally left alone. Selphina doesn't know Sidra's family well enough to know if they are as pious as they act, or if they have connections or sympathy to the Resistance. The news that a legate is visiting one of these little shrines is startling to Selphina. She knows that the legates don't like the lay-led cults of Izrador, but neither do they like to discourage devotion to the Dark Lord.
"Many humans serve Izrador,"the orc says, blackly. "So do most orcs. Your life will not last long in this land if you fight against him." The orc frowns and closes his eyes again.
"I aid anyone who fights Izrador. Perhaps I will not survive this day. But if I do not, I will do my utmost to take many of Izrador's followers to whatever hell I will enter." Hamnish regards the orc. "Do not all orcs serve the Dark Lord?", he asked.
Hamnish realizes that the orc was not speaking about Hamnish, but about himself, when he said 'your life will not last long'. The orc frowns in answer to Hamnish's question, and then winces. "No, not all of them," he said. "Most of them. But some fight it."
Selphina tries to smile nonchanlantly while saying "Oh that sounds lovely. I might be able to make it tonight. See you around!" She makes her way to the city gates intent on her purpose to get out of the city.
"Very well, dear, I know you're busy! Come back tonight! Bring your family!" Sidra waves as Selphina departs, but keeps watching her for quite some time.
Selphina passes through an alleyway and through a street lined by a very respectable row of nice inns. Important personages visiting Baden's Bluff usually stay here, with its clean streets, well-groomed doorkeepers, and frequent deliveries of goods, supplies, and entertainment by gaily dressed gnomes who always have a smile and a song for patrons. Selphina notices with relief that there is a small cluster of gnomes unloading a little wagon by one of the inns. Catching the eye of one of them, a young lad carrying a crate with the Swift Water logo stamped on it, she raises one hand to show the blue streamer still looped around her wrist. They've done this in the drills as well---the blue streamer on the wrist is a specific message, and although Selphina doesn't personally know these gnomes, she's sure that if they recognize the sign, they'll know what to do.
The young lad's eyes widen slightly, and he turns to wave down an older gnome woman who is standing up on the wagon directing the unloading of crates, and wearing a very large hat, broad brimmed, with a colorful feather plume that matches her brightly dyed leather vest. Rings glitter on her fingers, and the only fairly normal part of her outfit is the loose, flowing drawers that most gnomes, male or female, wear while working, tucked into her elaborately tooled boots. She sees him and looks up to see Selphina. A smile crinkles the corners of her heavily made up eyes.
"Here now, lass," she calls out, leaping down from the wagon and striding towards Selphina. "Hays, Wilxef! Come on, we've got a special delivery to make. Come with us, dearie. We're in need of a set of hands to help us bring the warbands a little refreshment." Two strapping gnome lads, a little burlier than the one who first noticed Selphina, grab the yoke of the little wagon, and turn it around with a huff of effort. "Up with me, lass," the older woman says, leaping onto the wagon again, seating herself with a flourish on a crate, and holding out a hand to Selphina. "I don't suppose you've anything to make yourself a bit more presentable to the troops?"
Hamnish is stunned. In every instance of his upbringing and current trials, Orcs have been the enemy. Hamnish deals with orcs only at the end of a sword or the deadly point of a well-placed arrow. An ally? Impossible. But, unless there was an elaborate trickery afoot, Hamnish sees the orc's present situation as confirmation, of sorts. "If you indeed fight Izrador, I again offer my help. Perhaps more generously given."
The orc grunts. "You see where fighting Izrador has gotten me. I am left here to die, disowned by my tribe. But I have made my stand. I do not regret it. My people may never be free of the Sendings of Izrador, but I hope some of us will continue to refuse to consent to them."
Hamnish is dumbfounded. Orcs opposing Izrador? Impossible! Why had he never heard of this before? Unless it was a trick. Although Hamnish saw no gain to the enemy with this tactic, he knows that he understands very little outside of the sweep of his eyes. [Any way to check on the orc's truth?]. "I honor your sacrifice, then. Is there anything I may do to ... help?"
Why would an orc fight against Izrador? Hamnish doesn't know, but he feels uncomfortably that the orc is telling the truth. And not only telling the truth---he took some action amidst his tribe that betrayed to them his contrary beliefs, and is now resigned the fate that his beliefs have condemned him to. He has no expectation that a human will trust what he says or do anything for him. This orc must be an anomaly, but if he really does stand against Izrador, there must be others that do, rare as they might be.
The orc doesn't respond to Hamnish's question at first. "My companions took halfling slaves from this camp," he says, after a moment. "I would stop them, if I could." Hatred and rage glitters in his eyes.
"You would be up against my warband," the orc says, faintly. He stretches out his neck, with effort, to try to look beyond Hamnish at the beheaded corpses in the camp. Squinting, he says, "Minus those and myself, I think, there are twelve of them left."
As Hamnish stands there, churning in thought, his horse snorts a bit behind him. Glancing towards the horse, Hamnish sees its ears pricked at the pile of corpses. It paws the ground, as if unsettled, and snorts again. Hamnish had beheaded the orcs and halflings---he knows they aren't able to rise as Fell. Animals do not rise as Fell, and so Hamnish had left the wolf-like animals' bodies intact.
Hamnish may make a Nature or Investigation check to see if he can figure out what's bothering his horse.
Hamnish:
The orc closes his eyes. Either he is weakening physically, or he does not want to respond.
Getting more information out of this orc may require a different action, or a skill check.
Hamnish considered the situation. A badly wounded (dying?) orc - perhaps a traitor, a desire to rescue whatever halflings remained alive, and the ever present necessity of speed to find Eythorial. Without better information, he felt trapped by indecision...
If only he could persuade the wounded orc to reveal more. [Persuasion roll: 8]
"Do you wish me to end your life with a beheading? You will be freed from revival."
"Or perhaps I can help you..."
Selphina smiles and greets Sidra even though she is filled to the brim with anxiety. "Good morning to you, Sidra. I'm in the middle of running errands for the business. How are things?"
Does Selphina see anything around (Perception:5) or know anything about Sidra (History:6)?
Hamnish:
The orc strains as if one last time at his bonds, seeming to have little strength to do more. At hearing the word help, his eyes flicker open and he stares suspiciously at Hamnish. "Do you help the cause against Izrador?"
Selphina:
Sidra smiles as she gets up and comes to lean against the little fence that encloses her green yard. "How nice! We are doing so well here. We've had such wonderful weather the past few days. Don't you agree? Pastor Turdon will be back within the hour, I think. Ah, I'm so glad my husband works so close to home!" She tilts her head back as she turns it proudly towards the little stone shrine a couple of short blocks away. "Legate Lukril is planning to come to tonight's service. Why, I think he might even wish to approve us." Sidra turns back to look at Selphina with an excited smile. "Have you time to attend the service tonight, Selphina dear? We would so love to have you. I know you've been doing shipping down the river in the past few weeks, but we do so miss seeing your little family around! And, you've not visited our beautiful shrine yet!"
In her anxiety, it's hard for Selphina to do more than concentrate on Sidra's words. Every movement or person walking down the street nearly startles her, and she has to make an effort not to look and see who they are. She of course is able to recall Sidra and her family from many deliveries that her family has made to the Hearthhome district. Many more well-off property owners live here, and they sometimes fancy unique goods not made locally that the river-cruising gnomes can easily provide. Sidra's husband, Turdon, is the leader of one of the two little shrines devoted to Izrador that many in the neighborhood frequently attend. These shrines are not official temples nor are they sanctioned by the legates, but the unapproved devotions are generally left alone. Selphina doesn't know Sidra's family well enough to know if they are as pious as they act, or if they have connections or sympathy to the Resistance. The news that a legate is visiting one of these little shrines is startling to Selphina. She knows that the legates don't like the lay-led cults of Izrador, but neither do they like to discourage devotion to the Dark Lord.
"I wield my sword against Izrador, and have done so for many years."
"Why would you ask?"
Hamnish:
"Many humans serve Izrador," the orc says, blackly. "So do most orcs. Your life will not last long in this land if you fight against him." The orc frowns and closes his eyes again.
Roll an Insight check.
"I aid anyone who fights Izrador. Perhaps I will not survive this day. But if I do not, I will do my utmost to take many of Izrador's followers to whatever hell I will enter."
Hamnish regards the orc. "Do not all orcs serve the Dark Lord?", he asked.
[Insight check: 8]
Hamnish:
Hamnish realizes that the orc was not speaking about Hamnish, but about himself, when he said 'your life will not last long'. The orc frowns in answer to Hamnish's question, and then winces. "No, not all of them," he said. "Most of them. But some fight it."
Selphina tries to smile nonchanlantly while saying "Oh that sounds lovely. I might be able to make it tonight. See you around!" She makes her way to the city gates intent on her purpose to get out of the city.
Selphina:
"Very well, dear, I know you're busy! Come back tonight! Bring your family!" Sidra waves as Selphina departs, but keeps watching her for quite some time.
Selphina passes through an alleyway and through a street lined by a very respectable row of nice inns. Important personages visiting Baden's Bluff usually stay here, with its clean streets, well-groomed doorkeepers, and frequent deliveries of goods, supplies, and entertainment by gaily dressed gnomes who always have a smile and a song for patrons. Selphina notices with relief that there is a small cluster of gnomes unloading a little wagon by one of the inns. Catching the eye of one of them, a young lad carrying a crate with the Swift Water logo stamped on it, she raises one hand to show the blue streamer still looped around her wrist. They've done this in the drills as well---the blue streamer on the wrist is a specific message, and although Selphina doesn't personally know these gnomes, she's sure that if they recognize the sign, they'll know what to do.
The young lad's eyes widen slightly, and he turns to wave down an older gnome woman who is standing up on the wagon directing the unloading of crates, and wearing a very large hat, broad brimmed, with a colorful feather plume that matches her brightly dyed leather vest. Rings glitter on her fingers, and the only fairly normal part of her outfit is the loose, flowing drawers that most gnomes, male or female, wear while working, tucked into her elaborately tooled boots. She sees him and looks up to see Selphina. A smile crinkles the corners of her heavily made up eyes.
"Here now, lass," she calls out, leaping down from the wagon and striding towards Selphina. "Hays, Wilxef! Come on, we've got a special delivery to make. Come with us, dearie. We're in need of a set of hands to help us bring the warbands a little refreshment." Two strapping gnome lads, a little burlier than the one who first noticed Selphina, grab the yoke of the little wagon, and turn it around with a huff of effort. "Up with me, lass," the older woman says, leaping onto the wagon again, seating herself with a flourish on a crate, and holding out a hand to Selphina. "I don't suppose you've anything to make yourself a bit more presentable to the troops?"
Hamnish is stunned. In every instance of his upbringing and current trials, Orcs have been the enemy. Hamnish deals with orcs only at the end of a sword or the deadly point of a well-placed arrow. An ally? Impossible. But, unless there was an elaborate trickery afoot, Hamnish sees the orc's present situation as confirmation, of sorts.
"If you indeed fight Izrador, I again offer my help. Perhaps more generously given."
Hamnish:
The orc grunts. "You see where fighting Izrador has gotten me. I am left here to die, disowned by my tribe. But I have made my stand. I do not regret it. My people may never be free of the Sendings of Izrador, but I hope some of us will continue to refuse to consent to them."
Hamnish is dumbfounded. Orcs opposing Izrador? Impossible! Why had he never heard of this before? Unless it was a trick. Although Hamnish saw no gain to the enemy with this tactic, he knows that he understands very little outside of the sweep of his eyes. [Any way to check on the orc's truth?].
"I honor your sacrifice, then. Is there anything I may do to ... help?"
[Insight roll: 19]
Hamnish:
Why would an orc fight against Izrador? Hamnish doesn't know, but he feels uncomfortably that the orc is telling the truth. And not only telling the truth---he took some action amidst his tribe that betrayed to them his contrary beliefs, and is now resigned the fate that his beliefs have condemned him to. He has no expectation that a human will trust what he says or do anything for him. This orc must be an anomaly, but if he really does stand against Izrador, there must be others that do, rare as they might be.
The orc doesn't respond to Hamnish's question at first. "My companions took halfling slaves from this camp," he says, after a moment. "I would stop them, if I could." Hatred and rage glitters in his eyes.
"Perhaps I could stop them, with ... help", replied Hamnish. "Tell me what I would be up against".
Hamnish:
"You would be up against my warband," the orc says, faintly. He stretches out his neck, with effort, to try to look beyond Hamnish at the beheaded corpses in the camp. Squinting, he says, "Minus those and myself, I think, there are twelve of them left."
Please roll a Perception check.
[Perception check: 12]
Hamnish believes he is a competent fighter. But twelve orcs? Inconceivable!
Hamnish:
As Hamnish stands there, churning in thought, his horse snorts a bit behind him. Glancing towards the horse, Hamnish sees its ears pricked at the pile of corpses. It paws the ground, as if unsettled, and snorts again. Hamnish had beheaded the orcs and halflings---he knows they aren't able to rise as Fell. Animals do not rise as Fell, and so Hamnish had left the wolf-like animals' bodies intact.
Hamnish may make a Nature or Investigation check to see if he can figure out what's bothering his horse.
Scanning the area, Hamnish sees nothing to prompt alarm, but he turns toward the beheaded pile to look more closely. Never ignore your horse!
[Investigation: 18]