1 - 017: The First Piece

[K Man]

Hero, Newt, Garor, Caelith and Callian - You follow each other towards the 'war room' to discuss the plans for the day. You are again reminded of how little time you have as, during the dawn hours, you look to the treeline and see dark firgures moving about beneath the shade of the trees.

You know that at dusk...the attack will come.

The duke follows you into the war room and slumps with a heavy, audible sigh into his throne. He bears the face of a man worn thin and devoid of hope. His features are pale and his eyes seem to race with thoughts of impending doom. He leans forward and places his hand over his face as he speaks.



"Doomed....we are all doomed."

"Sir Mordrid and his cowardacy. The hoarde at our doorstep...and now, half our reinforcements have been taken to a fate only the gods may know."

The Duke leans back in his chair, and looks over all of you.

"I'm assuming we're here to discuss the mercy killings of all those too weak to fight back so that their bodies may be saved from a fate worse than death?"
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Yuri - Moving to the treeline, you hear snarling from both side and leaves, twigs and branches being crushed under heavy, darkened footsteps. The hoarde is moving to close the gap behind those dragging the bodies away.

You know you can run and give chase, but it may mean risking attacks from several sides as you try to burst through their lines.

{Initiative: You, The Army.}

{Currently, you face 4 AoO's if you try to burst through the lines into the woods beyond, then you are uncertain how many more can close on you once you're in the woods. You still want to do this?}
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Krysta, Sehanine, Girud, Balin, Galdren and Romar - {Romar, you did 'see' them brought in. They were crudely cared for, your basic patch job. Enough to keep them alive. Nothing special, no magic or anything, just old-fashioned goblin-spit healing.}

You all begin to take better notice of your surroundings despite pounding headaches, aching wounds and bleeding wounds packed with dirt and filth.

The bars to each cage seem to be driven into the stone floor and ceiling of the cavern, making a difficult cage to break free of indeed. The guards, six in number, stay well away from the cage at a distance of ten feet or more. The occasional passing goblin, orc or kobold is even further away at fifteen feet or more.

They pass with a bag full of dirt that spills with each step, only to return later with an empty bag and a look of relief that the weight is gone.

The guards are simply dressed, wearing little more than crude hide armor and carrying a short spear and rusty short sword at their sides that are definetely for the purposes of killing unruly prisoners. The orcs also have a small pouch at their side that bulges with its contents.

There are only two exits out of this cavern, one to your right, the other to your left. The workers carry the dirt from the left to the right and seem to dump it somewhere beyond your vision.

With a confident understanding of your surroundings, you look to Romar in his cell. He stands motionless, eyes glazed as though looking through a dreaming glass of some kind. No amount of noise or rousing seems to grab his attention.

The small goblin in the other cell is in the same condition you are, nearly nude and locked in a cell. He is uninjured. You do find it odd that he is in this predicament as every other goblin seems to function like a well-oiled link in a chain. Upon speaking to him, the small creature raises his head and looks to you, his eyes filling with a sense of glee at the attention.

The goblin points a grubby finger at his chest, stabbing it with a dirty nail.



"Mordrock the 'Strong'."

Surely a comical nickname judging by the mediocre appearance of the dirty creature. Then, as to add to the sight, the goblin curls his hands into fists and brings them together while pushing out his shoulders to flex them and add to his bulk.

After a second of this apparently exhausting act, a puff of flatulence exits the rear of the goblin and he collapses to a heap gasping for air. Holding back your laughter, the goblin manages to stand again and dust himself off. He looks to you with a broad, almost friendly smile.



"Mordrock here cause he not 'strong' enough to dig well...or fight well...or lift well...or..."

The goblin stops his tangent before it becomes too lengthy.

"They not know how strong Mordrock truly is."

"Why you here? You captured like others?"

Mordrock waits patiently for a response.
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[Japic]

Girud looks over the small creature that is surely no larger than one of his arms and does indeed stifle laughter at the 'demonstration'.

"We have indeed been captured little one. I know not to which purpose we are here though. Do you know what is going on here? Why we have been brought to this place?"

"You mentioned others, what others do you speak of?"

Lets try a little Diplomacy +0.

[VemuKhaham]

The frustration grows stronger inside Romar, as he can do nothing. He just waits there for some petty purpose that rotten vampire seemed to have for him, all the while listening at the conversation with the goblin, and perhaps even a bit impatient, something that Romar is not likely to be. After all, what can such a small, pethatic monster do for them what they could not? He can figure out the answer for himself, as he might provide information, but he refuses to accept it for himself.

[GeneralMHB]

Yuri looks at the defenses set up.

Decision's already made, now or never...

He runs though the lines, praying he finds a tree in case of sustaining horrible injuries.

(OOC: I'm going total defensive here, any guy that's in my way, I overrun them. If I get badly injured by these oncoming attacks, make like Garfield and run up the nearest tree. I'm so screwed... *hears Chariots of Fire played in the background as he makes his way though*)

[Jevva]

"Yes, are there other places where prisoners are kept? It would be interesting to know how many people the Master's army has left alive, particularly in light of the fact that he must surely prefer us to be dead..."

Let's see if heaping my Diplomacy +7 on the poor thing will help. Hmm... 0+7=...7. Damn.

[K Man]

{Again, 4 out of 12 response? I know some people are missing, but come on...I need my players. }
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All Captured - The small goblin takes his time in attempting to understand you correctly before speaking, his shrill voice filling the rocky prison area.

{Diplomacy Checks}



"There are others here...many others. Some live, some dead."

Mordrock runs a grimy finger along his neck with a short raspy gurgling sound to indicate a gruesome death.

"All captured or killed, brought back here to dig."

"The master seeks something, a piece of something shattered and spread across the world. One piece is here...supposedly. Not know real use, but master wants it bad."

"You left alive cause it fun to starve and work you till death, bring you back without mind and make you work again. Once digging done, they send you to fight for master as dead-fighter."

Mordrock shivers as though suddenly affected by some horrible stench.

"Mordrock not want to be dead-fighter. They stink. So Mordrock manage to get this."

The small goblin heads over to a dingy corner of his cell where a filth crusted pile of hay rests. It appears as though Mordrock uses that corner of his cell for his waste...and simultaneously his food storage as he pulls a few large pieces of bread from within the hay.

Mordrock scurries over to the bars again and offers some waste covered bread through the bars with a broad smile. It appears Mordrock is quite pleased with his skills as a thief.



"Need to eat. They will work you without food, healing or water until you drop dead. You dig for piece in life, you dig for piece in death. Eat."

Mordrock tosses a few loaves of bread into the cell, indicating it should be passed along. You look to the waste pile it came from and shudder to think of ingesting this.
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{Yuri, I will handle your fight in the next game post, so sit tight.}
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[Merovingian]

Jumping onto the table Newt looks over the large man with sad eyes. Do all humans fall to despair so easily when confronted by enormous odds? We Halflings are always confronted by things much larger than we, but we use this to an advantage. Our enemies will surly underestimate us and that we can use to our advantage. If our enemies are weaker in the day then why wait tell they are strong. If our friends have been captured now why wait tell they are dead to save them. We should act now and if we are doomed then let use take the fight to them and die on out terms. Not sitting in a cellar waiting for the flood to swallow us in its wake. Looking to Hero; make us a plan that will give us the best chance and we shall use the element of surprise to take the day and stop the advancing night.
Diplomacy +2

[Japic]

I politely take the bread but refrain from eating it just now. Only as a last resort will I eat that filth.

I move towards a corner of the cell and settle down onto the floor watching the coming and goings of those outside the cell. As I sit, I begin formulating a plan of action in my head.

The little one says that they will try to work us to death, in order to do that they will have to let us out of these cages. Let us see what happens next.

I wait patiently for the gurads to release us for work detail.

[sonnetinkinston]

(I'm assuming the goblin is speaking common?)

Sehanine, perhaps quieted from her battle or from the near death experience she just encountered, barely manages to stifle a laugh at the little goblin. But it is a friendly laugh. Haughty as she may be to those who underestimate her, she is amused by the creature. Maybe even protective of him.

Sighing at the misfortune of having guards who actually know what they're doing, and at the futile efforts to rouse Romar, she turns her attention to Mordrock, and the food he has shared. Crawling over to her own bars, only slightly ashamed of her clothing and weakness, she addresses him (let's try diplomacy +0):

"You are indeed strong, my friend. Only such would share what they have worked so hard to hide. Please tell us, how did you manage to do it? It must be a tale full of your bravery..." She manages a smile (and not to laugh)

[Fangor the Fierce]

Taking the bread, Krysta glances around at the others, and follows them by not eating it just yet. "If we must eat it, then break it and eat from the inside out. I am sure the middle is not as the outside."

Thinking of the work ahead, Krysta turns to the Goblin and speaks in Goblin. "You speak well for a Goblin. Perhaps your native tongue is better to talk with. You say they bring us here to work? Then you must know where our belongings are. Can you tell us of this place, and where the two tunnels lead to? We would like to know all we can. The people, how many sre still alive? How do they bind us when working? What tools are we to use to dig? The guards and their rotations. If we somehow break free of this army, and IF you indeed prove yourself worthy, then I will take you along and out of this place. Free."

She waits for his answer.

[Jevva]

Damn, I was going to say something, but then I realized Krysta was talking in Goblin...

"What is it that you say, Krysta? I assume that you are not plotting against us because you have more honor than that, but if you could provide a translation as well?"

[Hero]

In war room....