Birthright Chapter Six

[Varrus the Ethical]

OUTSIDE ATLI"S OFFICE

Standing outside Atlit's bank, Roald turns to Torthur. "If we're heading straight to the Fish Market, we should put on some disguises. I can affect a pretty good street thug." Roald appraises Torthur for a moment. "It probably wouldn't be too hard for me to disguise you as a drunken tramp."

Torthur grins, belching in the process. "Aye. Alcohol be me friend. I've no quarry with lookin n actin like a drunk as ye awready seen. Clyde kin stay nearby but not with us, deal?"

"It's probably best if you find somewhere safe for Clyde to rest while we do this. Not so much safe for him, mind you, but for anyone who could annoy him."

[Lord Skybolt]

Gunnar directs his "squire" to come with him with the lit torch, but to stay out of the any fight and to also light any wall sconces that they come across to light the way for other humans in the manor . He retrieves his daggers out of the corpse of the worg and any that missed also . He also strap on his sword to his back as normal thinking he will only use this if he has the room, or a large battle unfolds . To Gunnar it looks it will be a lot of dagger work to kill any goblins or worgs he comes across, either with thrown daggers or up close as needed .

[kintire]

Safana stares at the Goblins for a moment. Her poor skill with a sling does not fill her with confidence, and the manor is moments from being ignited...

A thin mist flows around the two goblin firestarters. It is flowing from a small hummock in the ground that, now their attention is drawn to it, seems shaped rather like an ancient grave. The mist thickens and suddenly flows up from the ground in a thick cloud. the mist is pure, bone white, and forms and half solidifies into the translucent shape, manlike but wearing a deep cowl and robes that trail into mist. The cape is white, but the hands that emerge from it are black, as is the hint of a face below the cowl. That face turns to the goblins and the robes seem to part a little as if something is drawn from them. One hand lifts the hilt of a sword, from which can be seen a blade shaped gash in the world, an object of utter darkness into which light seems to fall as if into a pit. levelling this midnight blade at the nearest Goblin the shape drifts towards them

[steveflam]

OUTSIDE ATLI"S OFFICE

Standing outside Atlit's bank, Roald turns to Torthur. "If we're heading straight to the Fish Market, we should put on some disguises. I can affect a pretty good street thug." Roald appraises Torthur for a moment. "It probably wouldn't be too hard for me to disguise you as a drunken tramp."

Torthur grins, belching in the process. "Aye. Alcohol be me friend. I've no quarry with lookin n actin like a drunk as ye awready seen. Clyde kin stay nearby but not with us, deal?"

"It's probably best if you find somewhere safe for Clyde to rest while we do this. Not so much safe for him, mind you, but for anyone who could annoy him."

"Ye be right. Shall we git goin an disguised?"

[ewancummins]

CROAKER NORGE

CROAKER NORGE

Renn looks at Fhylie and the Duke. "What is our strength? Two hundred odd bowmen, yes? What of the pikemen retreating from Hildon? Are any in fighting shape? What of Hotspur?"

Fhylie answers,
"A handful of pike men will serve again, but only after at least a night's rest. They are exhausted. The company, well, that's broken, destroyed.
We have about as many archers as you estimate, and that's it beisdes His Grace, his personal guard, and the people in this room.
Later, we can link up with the volunteers that I have begun to raise in Ghonallison, but they aren’t ready yet. It takes time to equip and train the men."

[ewancummins]

EVENING,
HAES FISH MARKET

With Clyde ensconced in a nearby barroom under Reese’s care, Roald and Torthur enter the Fish Market in disguise. Draped in a filthy blanket and smeared with grime, Torthur resembles a derelict of the beer halls. Roald’s big floppy hat, cheap cloak, and slightly crumpled ruff collar lend him appearance of a street thug with enough money to buy a sword but not the services of a skilled tailor.

The two adventurers watch and wait for Fez while pretending to play at dice, shop, or just loaf in the street.

A little after sundown, the Dwarf notices a cloaked, hooded Man edging towards the River Gate, casting occasional nervous glances about as he makes his way through the thinning crowd of end of the day fish buyers, busy street sweepers, and tired vendors. When the Man happens to turn in Torthur’s direction, the Dwarf gets a quick look at his face under the hood—it’s Fez!

[ewancummins]

MANOR, A HIGH CHAMBER WITH A VIEW

Safana stares at the Goblins for a moment. Her poor skill with a sling does not fill her with confidence, and the manor is moments from being ignited...

A thin mist flows around the two goblin firestarters. It is flowing from a small hummock in the ground that, now their attention is drawn to it, seems shaped rather like an ancient grave. The mist thickens and suddenly flows up from the ground in a thick cloud. the mist is pure, bone white, and forms and half solidifies into the translucent shape, manlike but wearing a deep cowl and robes that trail into mist. The cape is white, but the hands that emerge from it are black, as is the hint of a face below the cowl. That face turns to the goblins and the robes seem to part a little as if something is drawn from them. One hand lifts the hilt of a sword, from which can be seen a blade shaped gash in the world, an object of utter darkness into which light seems to fall as if into a pit. levelling this midnight blade at the nearest Goblin the shape drifts towards them

The goblins arsonists recoil before Safana’s illusory wraith, dropping their firepots. The ugly little humanoids rush away from the apparition and vanish in the darkness.

Cormac and Dietric soon join the Khinasi woman in the high chamber, open windows, and start shooting down into the other goblins attacking the ground floor.
Dietric drops at least one goblin, but Cormac has worse luck: his bowstring snaps, skinning his wrist (the bullbeggar seems to have chewed up his bracer...).

A moment later, a wedge of armored horsemen gallops below the archers’ nest, plunging into the goblin ranks to drive the foes back with lance, sword, and torch.

[steveflam]

EVENING,
HAES FISH MARKET

With Clyde ensconced in a nearby barroom under Reese’s care, Roald and Torthur enter the Fish Market in disguise. Draped in a filthy blanket and smeared with grime, Torthur resembles a derelict of the beer halls. Roald’s big floppy hat, cheap cloak, and slightly crumpled ruff collar lend him appearance of a street thug with enough money to buy a sword but not the services of a skilled tailor.

The two adventurers watch and wait for Fez while pretending to play at dice, shop, or just loaf in the street.

A little after sundown, the Dwarf notices a cloaked, hooded Man edging towards the River Gate, casting occasional nervous glances about as he makes his way through the thinning crowd of end of the day fish buyers, busy street sweepers, and tired vendors. When the Man happens to turn in Torthur’s direction, the Dwarf gets a quick look at his face under the hood—it’s Fez!

Torthur pretend stumbles along the street, holding a wineskin to his mouth. Now, he looking for Roald. Once he spots him, he will nod at the sellsword, with a big smile. Then he will continue after Fez, a hand on one of his axes under his disguise.

[ewancummins]

EVENING,
HAES FISH MARKET

With Clyde ensconced in a nearby barroom under Reese’s care, Roald and Torthur enter the Fish Market in disguise. Draped in a filthy blanket and smeared with grime, Torthur resembles a derelict of the beer halls. Roald’s big floppy hat, cheap cloak, and slightly crumpled ruff collar lend him appearance of a street thug with enough money to buy a sword but not the services of a skilled tailor.

The two adventurers watch and wait for Fez while pretending to play at dice, shop, or just loaf in the street.

A little after sundown, the Dwarf notices a cloaked, hooded Man edging towards the River Gate, casting occasional nervous glances about as he makes his way through the thinning crowd of end of the day fish buyers, busy street sweepers, and tired vendors. When the Man happens to turn in Torthur’s direction, the Dwarf gets a quick look at his face under the hood—it’s Fez!

Torthur pretend stumbles along the street, holding a wineskin to his mouth. Now, he looking for Roald. Once he spots him, he will nod at the sellsword, with a big smile. Then he will continue after Fez, a hand on one of his axes under his disguise.

Fez quickens his pace, head down and hands tucked under his cloak, making a beeline for the gate.

Torthur has to jog to keep up.

Fez casts a wild look behind him, starts for the gate at a run, wheels left, and rushes for the nearest dark alley.



Torthur gives pursuit, sprinting as fast as his short legs will carry his heavy body.
He corners Fez in the blind alley, but the thin human leaps up onto a tall fence that forms the right wall of the short lane. Torthur slams into the fence, splintering the slats and knocking Fez down. The Dwarf reaches under his disguise and rips his two big axes loose, tearing his poncho-blanket to shreds in the process.

Fez shrieks, runs into Roald’s flying hammer-fist as he leaps towards the alley mouth, staggers back into a vicious head-butt to the small of the back from Torthur, and finally collapses in a bloody heap as the Dwarf smashes him into the cobbles with flat-bladed axe strikes!

A quick examination shows that Fez is alive; knocked out cold with a broken right arm and cracked ribs on the left side.

[ewancummins]

THE ABBEY
Just as he settles into the threadbare blanket on his hard cot, Foerde notices a streak of light through the open window.

If he looks out into the night,

VIEW CONTENT:

he sees falling stars over the highlands.

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[ewancummins]

GUNNAR

Gunnar directs his "squire" to come with him with the lit torch, but to stay out of the any fight and to also light any wall sconces that they come across to light the way for other humans in the manor . He retrieves his daggers out of the corpse of the worg and any that missed also . He also strap on his sword to his back as normal thinking he will only use this if he has the room, or a large battle unfolds . To Gunnar it looks it will be a lot of dagger work to kill any goblins or worgs he comes across, either with thrown daggers or up close as needed .

Gunnar ruthlessly dispatches a half dozen goblins after the little bandits try and fail to ambush him in a tight corner of the side halls.

He hears a sound like earthbound thunder from the nearest window--
a quick looks reveals that Count Robin's knights are clearing the foe from the perimeter.

[ewancummins]

later...


CROAKER NORGE TOWN
Devlin’s orders to get rest and prepare for a march at first light pass through the archers’ encampment at the edge of town, and by sundown everyone but the sentries has bedded down in tents or in spare rooms of the local houses.



RANALD’S MANOR
No goblins or great wolves remain in sight anyplace the defenders can see, except of course for those who were slain. An uneasy, watchful quiet falls over the manor, broken now and then by the groans of the wounded, the murmurs of passing guards, or the neighs of horses just returned to the stables. Refugees stream in from the camp, crowding the house, but after some initial confusion, the folk remain quiet, listening for another surprise attack.
Not long after the fighting has halted, Count Robin sends word to everyone gathered at the manor; “be wary, rest in turns, we must hold out till morning”…


END OF CHAPTER SIX