Varien stood over the arrow-riddled corpse of the dead orc sentry. He turned to the bard. “Radegast, what did you do?” Radegast smiled. “Diplomacy.” Varien scratched at his chin and pursed his lips. Radegast propped up the corpse. “Now, have you gentlemen ever heard the song cycle ‘A Twoday at Bernie’s' ?” The party exchanged looks while Theryn slowly put up his hand. Radegast smiled. “Now, if we hide behind this one and play puppeteer…” Varien was already walking into the cave entrance. Theryn and Xylon followed. Radegast shrugged and let the orc’s body drop to the ground. Alec and Bob stationed themselves at the cave mouth, watching everyone’s backs. By now the adventurers had realized that the Forge of Spells’ enchantments on their gear had completely worn off. The cave was dank, rainwater carving runnels into its sloping surface. The temperature dropped as they quietly made their way down and around a corner. But there were dank smells as well – much-gnawed bones lay scattered here and there, and there was campfire smoke in the air. And the odor of orckind lay heavy in the darkness. They could see the flickering of a campfire making shadows dance along the cave wall. It wouldn’t have been for the light – orcs could see in the dark about as well as elves – but it could have been for warmth in the cold recesses of the cave. Or worse, for cooking. Low, porcine grunting could be heard. A pair of orcs were having a conversation. Hiding behind a boulder, Radegast took a peek and translated for the rest. Three orcs lounged by the glowing embers of a fire pit. The largest of the three was squatting, gripping the haft of a wicked-looking axe that was propped on the ground, and looked ill at ease. The second, smaller orc wore a hooded cloak, his tusk-like lower teeth jutting out beyond the rough fabric. The third orc was prone, almost asleep by the looks of it. His greenish skin was covered in intricate tattoos, and unlike his larger companion he was not wearing armor. The largest orc was speaking as he spun the blade of his axe in the firelight. “I grow weary of your endless scratchings in the dirt, Ortugg. There’s no glory in digging.” The hooded orc dipped his head slightly. “It is as you say, sire. Remember, however, that the more relics of Uruth Ukrypt we uncover, the more Many Arrows warriors who we can rally to your banner.” Uruth Ukrypt? Radegast thought. The old orcish realm that lay waste to Phandalin and Wave Echo Cave 500 years ago? What are Many Arrows orcs doing searching for its relics? The first orc, who Radegast reasoned was in fact Brughor Axe-Biter himself, grunted. “Yes, true warriors. Orcs who cherish the old ways. The good ways. Orcs who do not live off the land like cattle, but who take what they need from the cattle.” Ortugg nodded as if he’d heard this homily before. “Yes sire, yes. And have you not been able to slake your bloodlust of late?” He waved at a pile of loot stashed in the corner of the cave. “Bah,” Brughor said. “Pillaging farmsteads and slaughtering peasants is one thing. But the only relic you’ve found so far is a fancy longboat, which does us no good as we are leagues from the nearest open water.” “Give me more time, sire,” Ortugg said. “You will have your glorious conquests, once we show Many Arrows the errors of its sedentary ways.” Varien tried to get closer in the darkness and kicked a tangle of bones. The half-sleeping orc suddenly lurched into a sitting position. “Rortogg, that you?” he called. Still hidden behind the boulder, Radegast took a deep breath and tried to imitate the voice of the sentry she’d interrogated. “Just coming out of the rain to take a dump!” She winced as her voice cracked like a pubescent boy’s. She coughed and tried again. In a deep, booming orc-voice she said. “Sorry about that – bird caught in my throat.” “Wait a minute,” the hooded orc said. “Rortogg takes all his dumps outside!” The orcs began to get to their feet. “For Phandalin!” Varien shouted out of habit as he took off at a run, smiting Brughor with a blow from Talon. The orc war chief grinned a mouth full of teeth and tusk. “Ah, a challenge at my door! Taste my axe!” Brughor swung his axe mightily, catching Varien on the end of its wide blade. The paladin cast hellish rebuke in response. Brughor reeled back, but his smile grew more ferocious. Theryn leapt into the fray, spinning his quarterstaff and trying to jab the orc with it, but missed. Repeatedly. Radegast stepped out from behind the boulder and cast shatter on a point near where the hooded orc was half-sitting. The cave rang like a gong as a wave of thunderous energy erupted near the campsite. The shattering wave toppled crates and exploded sacks, and knocked the three orcs back in surprise. “I’ll do you one better,” Xylon said to Radegast as he positioned himself and cast fireball . Magical fire blossomed amid the orcs, filling the cave with a sheet of fire with pockets of relative safety opening up where Theryn and Varien were standing. The orcs howled in anger as the fire scorched their bodies. The unarmed orc fell sideways, blazing, and did not stir again. The loot at the rear of the cave burst into flames. Hearing the sound of a fierce melee erupting in the depths of the cave, the Trevelyan brothers looked at each other and then rushed down the slope into battle. As the sound of the shatter died down, another earsplitting roar shook the cavern. There was the smashing sound of heavy feet striking the cavern floor as an enormous ogre stepped out from another section of the cave, scorch marks on his shoulder. The top of his head brushed the roof of the cave, but it was the size of his greatclub, which looked like he’d just knocked over the first tree he could find. Theryn’s eyes widened. “Well, it appears the alligator has found the hippo,” Theryn mused. Alec snapped off a shot with his hand crossbow as he ran into the fray. The hooded orc cursed and brushed embers from his body. Flipping back his hood, he gazed at the spellcasters and pointed. “You wretches are too loud!” He cast silence. To most of the party, it was as if the sound of battle, even their own breathing, was suddenly sucked out of their ears, replaced by a disorienting muffling. Varien tried to cast an oath of enmity but no sounds came from his mouth. Radegast strummed her lute, but the strings merely vibrating in silence. Xylon put his hands to his ears and shook his head, but it was as though they’d been stuffed with cotton. Varien realized that he could still swing his sword with the best of them, and struck Brughor again. The orc war chief laughed soundlessly and returned Varien’s blow with a fierce one of his own, knocking the paladin back. As Bob rushed into the cave tunnel, he could see his friends, but realized he couldn’t hear what was happening, even though he could still hear the sound of rainfall behind him. He frowned and reached for his wand of magic missile . Bob ran forward, his ears closing up as he entered the spell’s area of effect. He pointed the wand at the orcs and let fly. Bolts of magical force flickered silently from the end of the wand and homed in on their targets. Each of the orcs, and the ogre, was hit. Radegast switched out her lute for her rapier and stabbed the nearest orc. Theryn tried to figure out what was going on. He reasoned that the spell must have limits to its area of effect. He hit Brughor with a stunning strike and followed through on two more solid hits, but the orc war chief held his ground. To the orcs he mouthed the words “You may not see the wind, but it can still move a tree.” From behind the ogre scrambled four more orcs brandishing weapons and shouting silent battle cries. They engaged Varien, Radegast and Theryn, jabbing at them with spear and axe. The ogre swung his greatclub and struck Varien. Xylon backed out of the spell’s area of effect and shouted the words to the fireball spell. Another wave of magical fire blasted the orcs – a flaming blast of annihilation that set everything in its path on fire. Several of the orcs were turned into short-lived living torches, including the hooded spellcaster. As Ortugg fell smouldering to the ground, the silence spell ended. “Hah!” Radegast shouted, regaining her voice and uttering some cutting words as the still-smoking ogre lumbered towards her, brandishing his greatclub. “You couldn’t hit a mountain with that tree!” As she was shouting, the greatclub smashed into her, knocking her back into the boulder. Alec fired his crossbow again and missed. Varien moved atop a pile of burning orc corpses to protect Radegast with his shield. Brughor shouted “For the Horde, for death and glory!” to rally his rapidly diminishing number of troops. He swung at Varien, knocking his shield aside, and then struck Radegast, who now wobbled, bleeding. Radegast disengaged from the fight. Varien shot her a dirty look, so over her shoulder she cast bardic inspiration . “You can do it!” she called. Varien called down a divine smite on Brughor, who now stumbled, bloodied. “For the Horde,” he choked out again. Bob strode confidently into the melee, pointing both his index fingers like he was holding a pair of invisible hand crossbows. “Pew, pew!” he shouted, firing off two guiding bolts. The magical bolts struck Brughor and the ogre simultaneously. Brughor’s bolt bored a hole clean through his upper chest. The war chief’s eyes widened in stunned surprise as he could see the blazing fire behind him glowing through his body. The second bolt struck the ogre square in the forehead, and the creature fell bonelessly forward, landing with a thunderous crash on the cave floor. As the ogre fell, Theryn leaped through the void overhead and struck the final orc with a double-blow from his quarterstaff, staving in the humanoid’s chest. Bob raised both index fingers to his mouth and blew on them contemptuously. Brughor still stood, albeit unsteadily, turning to Varien as blood poured from his mouth. “Uruth Ukrypt will rise…again…” Brughor Axe-Biter said, grinning at the paladin through his shattered tusks. Then he fell to the ground, his axe ringing off the stone. “Whooo!” Alec shouted. “A real fight for a change!” Most of the orc’s loot, piled at the rear of the cave, was a total loss, having been blasted by the bard’s shatter before getting set on fire by two fireball spells. But the adventurers could make out the burning ribs of what looked like an ancient longboat, dug out of the mud and resting on a rough timber travois. Most of the goods looked like sundry items taken from homesteads or caravans. Disturbingly, however, there was a small pile of straw-stuffed children’s dolls, regarding the adventurers with their black button eyes. The cave curved around to reveal a second area, where the second group of orcs and the ogre had been camping out. The adventurers tossed the stinking bedrolls and looked about for treasure. As they checked the orcs for loot, they turned up half a dozen bloodied Harper pins, the sort of badges worn by the faction’s rangers and scouts. Xylon shook his head grimly as he recognized Menelek’s Harpshadow insignia among the grisly trophies. Varien found a sack that likely belonged to the hooded orc. Among the dusty relics inside was an ancient human skull, covered in gold leaf. Radegast identified that as a war trophy, likely the head of a noble or even someone of royal blood, who had died in battle against an orc. Theryn found an unlocked treasure chest containing coins and three vials of perfume, the sort that went for a pretty penny in the fashion district of Waterdeep. Some of the glittering coins caught Radegast’s eye. She sifted them out of the coppers and silvers and turned them over in her palm. They were crescent-shaped platinum coins, obviously minted by Elves. “Look at these,” she said to the others. “What are orc marauders doing with Elven coin?” Xylon’s eyes narrowed. Those coins looked familiar for a couple of reasons. He opened his sack of coins and felt around until he had a couple of the platinums in his hand. “Didn’t you guys say you found these platinum coins with the goblins of Cragmaw Castle?” Varien nodded. “These coins were minted far from here, in the south and the east,” Xylon said. “East?” Bob repeated. Xylon nodded. “Yes, they are-” “Ruendils,” Radegast interrupted. “You only find these in the treasuries of ancient elven kingdoms.” Xylon nodded, exasperated. “So who is trading platinum coins to both goblin and orc ‘round these parts?” Varien asked. “The Black Spider, unless I miss my guess,” Radegast said. “Yes! The Black Spider’s behind it, I’m sure.” Xylon said quickly. “Think about Nezznar’s ambitions,” Radegast said. “What did he want with Wave Echo Cave? The Forge alone? We found out the hard way that its enchantments don’t last. He’s not going to take over the world with that all by itself.” “Well, when we get back to Phandalin you can sing for your Order of the Gauntlet friend and let them figure it out,” Varien said. “Let’s take some of their trophies and weapons as proof that we took care of the orc problem here. Maybe this guy’s axe.” He pointed at Brughor’s body. The party rolled the orc corpses into the fire at the rear of the cave to cover their tracks. Xylon looked down at the ruendils in his hands as he added the orc’s loot to the party’s own. He recognized those coins for another reason – though he would deny it if asked, he had a sick feeling that he had seen those very coins before in the treasure vault of his own family. He shoved the coins deep down and tried to forget about them. Radegast inspected the corpse of the unarmed orc who had died from Xylon’s first fireball spell. Curiously, the orc had not gone for a weapon when he was alerted to her presence, but had grabbed for a bone flute. “Was this…was this some sort of orcish bard?” Radegast tried to recall what she’d been taught about orc culture. Orcs did have a thing for bones, and their music, when they played it, was chiefly used to intimidate those who were about to face their attacks. It was heavy on percussion and dissonant tones. She picked up the pipe, wiped the mouthpiece off, and blew through it, trying to coax a melody out of it. “Would you knock that off?” Bob said. “It sounds like you’re strangling a flock of geese or something.” Radegast smiled proudly. “Nailed it!”