Crystin was trembling with fear.
“I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve,” Haddin assured her, calling out, “Get the hell out of here. You’re not taking me alive!”
“Warroc, buddy,” Cyrus called out, “where have you been?”
“Making real friends,” Warroc replied. “Not guys like your dwarf friend that turned on me!”
“Warroc, man,” Cyrus coaxed, “These guys aren’t your friends. They’re just using you. You’re a fierce warrior. These guys don’t respect that.”
“They do,” Warroc insisted. “That’s why they made me an officer in their army! Give us the mage and the dwarf and we’ll let you go!”
Eyvindir cast faerie fire, but the inquisitor waved his hand and dismissed it. “He’s counterspelled me.” He called to me with bardic inspiration, “May the power of Moradin guide your hammer.”
From inside the house, Cyrus aimed his crossbow out of the doorway and shot the Inquisitor.
Pointing a clawed hand, the Inquisitor growled, “You’ll pay for that with your life!”
I hit the Inquisitor with my spiritual weapon and followed up with a crossbow bolt.
“Crystin, come with me,” Ulfgar urged, and led toward the back door toward the stable. As soon as he opened the door, an arrow came from the roof of the stables and he ran into a skeleton. “Stand back,” he commanded Crystin, “we’re surrounded.”
Ulfgar and the skeleton traded blows and he stepped back inside.
The inquisitor cast a spell and we all found ourselves in silence.
Passing out of the doorway, Eyvindir hit him with a dagger, but it had little effect.
Warroc charged at Eyvindir with his greatsword, but the bard ducked behind a mound, evading the swing.
Cyrus followed Eyvindir out the door and slashed Warroc.
I hit the Inquisitor again with my spiritual weapon, but missed with my crossbow.
Skeletons rose from behind the mounds circling the house.
Ulfgar was hit by the skeleton outside the rear door.
A goblin popped out from behind a mound and hit me with a crossbow bolt.
A Ragesian soldier rushed forward and sliced into Cyrus with his sword.
Ulfgar shattered the skeleton with his staff and ran around the back of the house.
The Inquisitor dismissed my spiritual weapon with dispel magic.
Torrent ran out and nicked Warroc with her axe.
Eyvindir stuck Warroc with his rapier.
Warroc swung wildly at me in a frenzy, but did not connect.
Cyrus sliced into Warroc.
I spit at Warroc and turned from him, shooting at the Inquisitor, but it was too crowded to make the shot.
Cyrus was slashed by a skeleton.
Ulfgar smacked the Inquisitor with his staff. “Sleep!” the Inquisitor growled, and the monk promptly fell to the ground at the command.
Torrent slashed Warroc with her axe.
Moving out of the silence, Eyvindir was slashed by Warroc’s blade, and cast shatter on the Inquisitor, but the spell was somehow dismissed.
Warroc turned back toward me, but could not penetrate my armor.
Cyrus slashed Warroc with his sword.
I turned my back on Warroc and walked out of the silence where I cast spiritual weapon, hitting Warroc, and hit the Inquisitor with a crossbow bolt.
Xireas cast ray of sickness on the Inquisitor, but it had no effect.
The Inquisitor cast shatter on Xireas and me, but I shrugged off the effects.
Eyvindr cast healing word on himself.
Torrent flanked Warroc and dropped him with her axe, but he willed himself back to his feet and tore into Torrent with his sword and ripped into her again with a backswing.
Cyrus plugged his sword into Warroc and as he fell to the ground, Torrent cut his head off.
I hit the Inquisitor with my spiritual weapon, and with a crossbow bolt, before standing over Ulfgar.
Xireas cast ray of sickness, poisoning the Inquisitor.
Ulfgar woke, and crawled out from under me before rising and bludgeoning the Inquisitor, who in turn stuck his hands out in a fan shape and caught Ulfgar, the Ragesian soldier, and me in burning hands.
Torrent held out her holy symbol and sent the two skeletons fleeing.
Eyvindr cast healing word on me and stabbed the Inquisitor.
Cyrus slashed the Inquisitor with his sword.
I hit the Inquisitor with spiritual weapon, dropped my crossbow and swinging my hammer, cracked the Inquisitor’s head, splitting open its bear skull helmet, revealing an orc underneath. The silence disappeared.
The Ragesian soldier struck me hard with its axe.
Xireas almost dropped the soldier with toll the dead.
Ulfgar flanked the soldier and finished it.
Cyrus and I shot at the fleeing goblin, but it was too far.
With the battle over, Cyrus returned to the house. “The Inquisitor’s dead,” he informed Haddin. “You should probably pack your shit up and let’s get out of here.”
I cast cure wounds on myself.
Ulfgar searched the Inquisitor, finding four potions of healing, 74 golds, a three-pronged metal claw, and a scroll case.
Eyvindr searched Warroc and the solder finding some more gold coins, a potion of growth, and lots of weapons.
We divided the potions of healing among the non-healers and I took the potion of growth.
Opening the scroll, we found a message that read, “Boreus, Find Haddin and kill him. He is not needed. Do not take him alive.”
Recovering our horses, we departed along with Haddin and Crystin.
“That was a close one,” I grumbled to no one in particular. “We made it this time. Next time we might not be so lucky. It would have been better if our watch wouldn’t have been so lazy!”
Cyrus, while rummaging through his backpack, shook his head and chuckled to himself, thinking, ‘These religious types always think they can control everyone. Easier for them to pass judgement rather than look within.’
Shrugging, he found and withdrew his nearly empty bottle of wine. Holding the bottle up to the light while uncorking it, he grimaced at the remnants and polished it off in one gulp.
Eyvindr sang a song of rest while we recovered.
While we traveled from Haddin’s house, I spent most of my time, when not engaged with someone or something else, grumbling to myself.
"So that's where Warroc went,” Cyrus said out loud to the group. “I knew he was trouble from the moment we met, he was a right cunt he was. Not surprised he hooked up with those Inquisitor arseholes, spouting their rubbish. Plonker couldn't get out of his own way, felt good running the wanker through.”
“It started out well enough when I hired him as muscle to accompany me to the treasure hunt,” Xireas explained. “He somehow thought that by me being civilized to him that I wanted something else...what did you call him...a real wanker...I think I know what that means now...”
"That turd Warroc got what he deserved,” I agreed. “He's not worth another thought." Then, turning to Xireas, I asked, “Hey, whatever happened to that raven of yours? Can’t you get another one?”
“So, I already told you, Angradin,” the necromancer replied, “that my familiar died when it tried to come back to this plane of existence. If I try to summon another, I suspect the same will happen and I do not care to summon the more nefarious fire resistant types that could survive re-entry in this plane.”
Later, I turned to Eyvindir and mentioned, “even though I usually prefer confronting problems head on, my primary concern when we were attacked was securing the civilians.”
"Sure, the civilians are a central concern, and protecting them is paramount," the half-elf declared. "Though in this case we were led to believe that the father commands magical power. I do not give a fig for a man who does not raise a hand to defend his home, far less his own daughter. The back of my hand to the coward — she deserves much better than you," said Eviyndir, casting a hard look at Haddin. "If you wish to travel with us, sir, we will expect that you treat your daughter as you would any member of this company — with kindness and gratitude. But if you cannot manage that much, then at the very least, you will treat her with respect."
"Ah, I figured the father was fearing for his daughter,” Angradin explained. “What kind of magical power does he possess? Was there some mistreatment? I spent most of the time outside until it was late and everyone was asleep… OUTSIDE ON WATCH!” he grumbled, "Apparently for naught!"
As suddenly as the bard's ire at Haddin rose, it ebbed, and the half-elf turned toward Cyrus, nodding. "Warroc earned his reward, certainly." He then spurred his horse to approach Cyrus, and speaking quietly to the fighter, he added. "But I beg you to be a little slower to mete out rough justice to prisoners. I have a great respect for you, but I do not wish to have any blood on my hands if it can be avoided. My argument with Xireas still rankles."
"I respect you as well, Eviyndir,” Cyrus replied. “I'm sorry for my way. Kindness and charity are concepts that I'm not very familiar with, turns out. Me Nan was a rough old bird. And, on the rare occasion when she sent me to market for goods we couldn't harvest ourselves, the folk shunned me, didn't matter that I ain't never done nothin to them. Making warding gestures and spitting, as if my very presence would bring devilry. But, I'll do my best in showing mercy and I promise to stay my killing hand at least until we've had a gab. Maybe, try to find a way to forgive Xireas, I suspect her past was much more challenging than mine."
Leaning in more conspiratorially, he whispers, "If Ulfgar is right about Haddin we need to keep an eye on him and our fellows, it seems clear he's got some hold over the girl. Dunno what he's all about or what puts iron in his rod, but he might try it on one of us."
We traveled until nighttime and made camp on the trail, taking turns standing watch.
In the morning we all felt refreshed and renewed.
After traveling for a short while, their air turned hot and muggy until we came upon a burning forest. Ash began to cover the ground and Haddin had a hard time breathing. The heat from the forest was intense, but the trees were not consumed by the flames.
Torrent handed out potions from her sack, explaining, “Take this potion. It lasts 48 hours and will help us endure the intense heat from the forest. We must make haste to get through this, because without these potions we surely won’t survive the heat for long.”
The horses were neighing and clearly bothered, so we sent them back on the trail.
Entering the forest, we saw a thick layer of ash in the ground several inches thick. It was like walking in sand. Continuing on through the intense heat of an oven we came upon a sight of bodies, scorched and burned on the ground. One of the bodies turned toward and cried, “kill me!” in horrifying pain.
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