Hildigrim steps toward Auriel, eyes wide with wonder. “Fascinating,” he murmurs, barely audible, as his fingers reach up and brush the frost-laced armor encasing the eladrin’s midsection. He circles slightly, examining the shimmer and the way the cold radiates outward. “I’ve read about seasonal manifestations of the eladrin ... but to witness it like this — remarkable.”

Then the horns bellow again.

The sound reverberates through the cavern — shaking Hildigrim out of his reverie. He flinches, blinking, and turns to scan the cave. Spotting Hex ahead, he reorients himself, the scholar giving way to the strategist.

As if just now catching up to what Auriel had said, he suddenly exclaims, “But if whatever is going on outside is successfully distracting the kobolds, this is our chance to procure the book. We need to get that book!"

“So.. no burned bodies.  More sneakin.  Where is it?  Pardon me Mr. Orc, lemme jus slip right by you and if’n you don’t mind Mr. Kobold, lemme just walk on by your pointy knife…. Hrrrmph.”  Carl tip toes to where Hex was looking, peeking out to see what he can see, trying to get his bearings.  

Hex shakes her head at Hildigrim and Carl. "We don't have the time to get the book. We barely survived six orcs and now there's dozens of them outside - plus Jeralla's kobolds and probably the Gray Cloaks as well. We aren't getting out of this alive if we try to get it. Auriel's right, lets just leave them to fight amongst themselves and get out of here with the captives alive."

(ooc: whoops! Crossed posts. Edited mine slightly)

"Sharrak did his job well," Auriel replies when Hex returns.

When Hildigrim brushes the paladin’s armor, he finds that the frost simply grows back—just as it had when Hex stuck a finger into his chest plate moments earlier. The halfling looks up to find the eladrin already watching him, his expression unreadable.

"Jeralla's book? For what purpose? And how exactly do you propose to recover it, given our current condition?" He tilts his head slightly, gesturing — without looking — at the group's still-bleeding wounds. All except, perhaps, for Carlthuzad.

"If more blood is to be shed, let it be in the service of getting ourselves — and the captives — off this island."

Finding that Hex is of the same opinion, he gives a small nod, then crosses his arms and waits in silence.

Hildigrim stammers. “If we leave now, what will we have accomplished?”

OOC: On mobile. Family sleeping in my office.

(ooc: Hope you are all okay!)

"We were sent to re-establish caravan flow along the Iron Route and stop the bandit gangs from joining. There won't be much left to join once the orcs raze that camp. Worst case? A few survive—too broken to threaten the trade routes. Best case? They vanish from the face of Toril entirely," Auriel replies calmly. As if he weren't speaking of people's lives at all.

He continues, "We weren't sent to find a book. Getting Krulek or Sharrak back to Phlan is secondary. What have we accomplished, Hildigrim? First, the mission we were given. Second, them"—he points down toward the cave where the captives wait—"and third, new evidence of Cult of the Dragon activity."

A pause. Then, colder: "None of it matters if we don't make it back alive. Or do you believe this is the last time we’ll be hearing from the bloody Cult?"

 The paladin tilts his head slightly, listening for movement outside the cavern. "We don't have time for this."

Hildigrim closes his eyes and draws a long, steadying breath.

What are your motivations, Hildi? he asks himself. Do you think the book holds something vital to the mission? If Sharrak is right, Jeralla might not even be working with the cult — which means the book might be worthless to their current purpose. But what if it isn’t? What if it contains something the Harpers need? And now, with all this chaos ... isn’t this the perfect time to slip in and take it?

And beyond all that—it’s a magic book.

His arm throbs, and the pain pulls his thoughts sharply to the present. Three of the four of them are still bloodied and drained. A direct confrontation now would be foolish.

He opens his eyes, lifting them to meet Auriel’s cold, blue stare. Hildigrim scowls.

“Carl, can you make me invisible?” he asks, the words defiant, his gaze unwavering.

When Carl answers that he cannot, Hildigrim lets out a disgruntled huff. “Fine.”

He finally turns away from Auriel, his shoulders tight beneath his cloak. “Let’s get out of here,” he mutters — the frustration and reluctant acceptance thick in his voice.

“Is there a middle path forward?  Is there anywhere we could hide for an hour, let them destroy each other, then sneak in and get what you want?  I just need an hour to rest and then I could do it again, make you invisible…”. Carl says, trying to help, trying not to disappoint.

OOC: I'll give some more time for the party to come to a consensus here, but it seems like the next course is returning to the captives?

"It's not worth the risk, Carl." Hex feels a little guilty at the sight of Hildigrim's disappointment and Carl's want to help but, despite it all, Auriel was right. She makes her way to the cavern exit, stopping for a moment to wait for the others to make ready, before hurriedly leading the party down to where the captives are. Stealth was secondary to haste, they needed to move quickly.

Once they arrive, she wastes no time with the captives. "Change of plans, we need to leave. Now. Gather your things and follow me when you're ready. I'm going to go scout ahead." She barely waits for the captives to answer before turning around and heading back towards the path that leads to the boats. She stops when she reaches the cliffside they need to climb down, waiting for the others to catch up and making sure there were no enemies or signs of danger ahead.

Carl looks at Hex with a blank look on his face, he shrugs at her and then points with frustration at Squirt, pointing downward to follow Hex.  He's playing over everything in his mind, his beard rustling and he's clearly chewing on the inside of his cheek.  

Auriel follows after Hex without so much as a second glance to acknowledge Hildigrim's and Carlthuzad's frustration.

Once they reach the captives—and after Hex has given her instructions—he adds, "Expect trouble from any humanoid who isn't one of us. Keep the weapons ready, in case they’re needed, and we might still make it out of here alive."

When they reach the cliffside they'll need to descend, he joins Hex in scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. If none appear, he retrieves the rope from his pack and begins securing it to the nearest tree or sturdy rock.

Returning down the passage and into the cave of captives, you find the four humans and the pair of dwarves holding daggers, eyes darting in all directions. Sirge Wintermelt still holds Hex's sword, standing between them and the exit. He spins, alerted by your rushing footsteps. "What in all nine hells is going on out there? Were those battle horns?" he asks. Noticing your condition, and hearing Hex's instructions, he nods grimly. "Right. There will be time for explanation later," he says.

The freed captives follow you through the tunnels and back to the opposing cliff, where you get your first full view of the situation since Hex first spotted the orc march. Below you is chaos. Shouts, spellfire, and the clash of steel on steel can be heard from everywhere on King's Pyre. The shadowy forms of orcs, kobolds, and humans battling through the rolling fog come in fleeting images. A man so large he can only be Little Erik rolls with an orc along the ground, each wrestling to vie for leverage to choke the life out of the other. A mutated kobold with tentacles emanating from its forehead is cleaved nearly in half by an orc; three other kobolds dance around the orc from behind, stabbing daggers into its calves and driving it to the ground. Three scorching rays of fire fly stand starkly against the fog, though whether or not they meet their target cannot be seen. "Moradin's beard..." one of the dwarves mutters. Sirge finishes his thought. "The battle is everywhere."

With Auriel's rope secured, the downward climb can begin.

Standing with the others, Hildigrim watches the fog-shrouded distance, unable to shake the image forming in his mind: Jeralla’s wagon, unattended, just sitting there — the book within arm’s reach. Probably completely unguarded by now, he thinks, though the notion sparks only a flicker of frustration. The weight of exhaustion presses harder. Instead of anger, he exhales a long, quiet sigh.

“Let’s go before something happens to the boats,” the halfling mutters, his voice low and resigned.

He steps toward the rope, peeling off his still-damp cloak and leaving it on the cliffside. The cave’s moisture clings to his skin as he grips the line. His fingers tremble slightly, and he pauses — not out of fear, but fatigue.

Steady now, he tells himself, then begins the descent, hoping that the cold and the ache in his shoulder won’t turn one mistake into a fall.

Hex draws her bow as they get closer to the fighting. She waits for everyone else to climb down first before following behind, ready to take a shot from above in case someone decides to attack. She can only hope that, with the chaos of battle, no one would notice them as they made their way back to the boats. 

Auriel is the first to begin the descent, if possible. When he climbs down, he mirrors Hex's stance—but from the lower ground. Once at the base, he braces himself and holds the rope steady, acting as a solid anchor for the others. If anyone slips on the way down, he's ready to catch them. While he waits, he retrieves the stripped toadstools from his backpack, storing them within easy reach.

Once the last of the group is down, the paladin stands ready with a command prepared on the tip of his tongue—just in case it's needed to hasten their flight toward the boats.

And if, along the way, there's a moment to spare—without delaying the group nor deviating from the safest and quickest way to the boats—he'll drop the each of the three toadstools into any food sources he passes by.

If any orc, kobold, or Gray Cloak is fortunate enough to survive this battle and foolish enough to eat afterward ... well, then. Lord of Justice be with them.

Keeping the rope secured, each of you, and each of the rescued captives, are able to clamber and rappel themselves down the cliffs, and onto the soft ground below.

The battle rages around you. Arrows whistle overhead, and the air is filled with choking smoke mixing in the fog. You see the cave mouth a hundred yards ahead of you, where the tunnel down into the cove lies. Before you can reach it, a bestial man-thing emerges from the fog, riding atop a giant wolf. Seemingly as much ogre as orc, the creature wears a wicked grin beneath his helm, wielding a rusted axe and carrying a burning battle standard. Its teeth appear to be made entirely of filed metal. Near him, three other orcs move up through the haze to menace you.

Sirge wastes no time. He clasps Hex's shoulder. "I hope you didn't want this weapon back. Go! Get them to safety," he says, turning toward the creatures quickly advancing toward you.

Carl says anxiously, “There’s no way that we can fight them!  Let’s make a run for it. Perhaps there will be an opportunity to slow them down!  Squirt, stop standing there and start running!”  Carl hustles toward the passageway leading to the boats, dashing to get away from the half-ogre and the three orcs.  

"Yes," is Auriel's answer to Carlthuzad.

He doesn't spare more than a one-second glance for the half-ogre and his orcs. He does glance at Sirge, though, fixing his blue-and-silver eyes on him for a brief instant before muttering something to himself and sharply ushering the group forward after the dwarf.

Hex grits her teeth as Sirge clasps her arm, a wave of guilt washing over her as it immediately becomes obvious what was about to happen. She grabs his arm and gives him a resolute nod before dashing alongside everyone towards the boats. It takes everything in her to not turn back.