Two horsemen ride up to a tavern...

The leader of the warband lets out a cry as Ascian's arrow hits. He reaches up to pull the projectile out, which results in a gout of blood spewing forth from the wound. The yellow eyes bore into Ascian's before the light leaves them and he collapses to the dirt. The priest turns to Thezra's towering form and manages to push its spear into her armor. The weapon cuts a thin line across her thick skin, but doesn't draw much blood. Thezra takes 10 points of piercing damage to vigor, reduced to 4 by DR. Katrin's action.

Her sight restored, Katrin can feel the adrenaline of the fight building up inside her. She slashes upwards at the orc she'd been fighting, feeling the blade bite into armor. As her axe connects, so too does the Hammer of Tempus fall upon it's foe. 

 Akiran's silver scales went taught at the sight of the giant orc joining the battle. This was more than he bargained for, he wasn't going to give his life for this fight. He prepares to run until he sees the Orc begin to fight her own kind, he had heard tales that Orcs of the fierce yet undisciplined prowess of the orcs. It appears fortune favored them with the latter this day. Stepping on their fallen commander's body, he slashes out with his blade cutting into the man's armor and throwing him off balance. Using this opening Akiran smashes his elbow into the Orc's nose, with a satisfying crunch and a torrent of blood pouring out of the man's face. The Dragonborn then drives a knee into the man's gut, the orc moans and Akiran' feels something slip out of place as he retracts his knee. Yelling in common with his foot on the commander's body he says "Your leader is dying, you are battered and wounded. If you value your lives now is the time to flee."  Hoping that the orcs had more sense than honor.

The cleric heals its bleeding wound with a pulse of green energy and flees east along the road, cursing in orcish.

A rumbling laugh bellows out from Thezra as she watches the shock wash over, then fade from, Gûg's face as the scrawny human's arrow pierces his back. Again in Common she shouts out, "You see? The lies of Duar'ken bring only death, not glory."  She turns to the two diminutive orcs at her feet and brings her sword arcing downward, carving a large gash out of the one to her side. A spurt of blood bathes the blade in a warm red, and she grins down toward the two.  "Run, dukhal,"   she growls, returning to her native tongue, "and if the blood has not fully left your veins before you reach Ore'agah, tell Kerak these raids are done."

Two orcs flee, only making it a few yards away from the fight before expiring from blood loss. Another lands a glancing blow on Katrin's armor. The remaining orcs turn to flee, catching strikes from Akiran and Katrin as they do so. Katrin takes 8 points of slashing damage to vigor, reduced to 4 by DR. Kaed's action.

In which our fearless barbarian leaves the orc cleric wishing he had made different life choices.

As the tide turns, Thrandimir sidles up behind Akiran and Katrin, sending another whispered enchantment in pursuit of the fleeing Orcish cleric.

Cal takes in the sight of the hulking orc giantess, nearly distracting him from the fight until the sound of boots on gravel catch his attention. The retreating orcs flee and drop sporadically, but he can't shake the feeling it wasn't over just yet. Still, it was a chance to let others catch their breath. He scans his allies, catching sight of the gung-ho dragonborn - his arm notably less shiny than it was just minutes earlier. He forward, releasing a quick-fire starry arrow at the fleeing orc cleric before laying a firm hand on the would-be-knight's head. "Steady your breathing, Sir Akiran. That was a harrowing bit of battle, but it may not be done just yet." The light emitting from all over him dims, intensifying instead over his hand as a surge of healing energy rushes forth into the man, hopefully lessening the pain of any of the blows he'd sustained.

Seeing the cleric and other orcs disappear further down the road and behind the cover of the flaming house, Ascian skirts the edge of the burning building, distantly wondering at something that almost feels like warmth. He stills beside Katrin, pulling back an arrow that slings through the fire to lodge itself into the lower back of one of the orcs, puncturing deep enough he's confident it can be seen from the other side. Briefly, his eyes glance toward the huge orc right in front of them on the opposite of the road. Quietly to Katrin, he asks, "Who is that."

The orc priest makes a wild stab at Kaed before collapsing to the ground in a puddle of its own blood. Katrin's action.

Katrin narrows her eyes at the large Orcish woman striking at her fellows. "I have no fucking clue."  It's then that she notices her hammer in the large woman's shadow. With a twitch of her eyes, it moves through the woman to the orc across the stone wall. With a stomp, the hammer comes crashing down into the orc's shoulder, and with another twitch, he ignites briefly in a burning holy fire. "I suppose we'll find out if we survive this."  

As the orc's retreat Akiran isn't sure if he should pity or envy them. Would their people be happy they returned alive, or spurn them for their cowardice. His shield arm rises and briefly touches his chest before his mind comes back to the here and now. His first thought is to check the fallen chief for valuables, but his new found allies seem to have a heroic bend. And looting the dying may not endear him to the group.  Looking around he sees the home behind them a blaze. As his eyes are on the fire, his left arm touches the bloody mess of scales on his right arm where the orc cut into him. Unbeknownst to the Dragonborn when his hand makes contact a soft electric glow emerges and his scales right themselves and the wound closes. Running towards the left side of the hut he takes a deep breath and unleashes a blast of wind and ice. Helping to partially smother the fire plaguing the hut.

The fleeing orcish cleric's hand begins to glow with green energy. It places the hand on its own chest and the wounds dealt by the party begin to stitch themselves back together as it runs north back into the treeline.

Thezra takes a few steps back toward one of the last few fleeing orcs and drives the point of her blade through his back, spearing him to the ground. She stares down at him, a weak last few grunts escaping his lips as he grasps weakly at the grass ahead of him before falling still, and draws the sword out of his body. Her anger starting to subside as she turns back, she takes in the massacre of a battlefield with a strange mixture of pride and sorrow. Wiping the blade on her arm, a twinge of sadness fills her to see her brethren laid to waste, yet its quickly replaced with fury. This was the fate of all who followed him , she reminded herself. Looking to the group of outsiders ahead of her, she starts forward towards them.

The orcs continue to retreat. The gutshot one attempts to remove the arrow from its stomach and succeeds only in aggravating his injury. He staggers as he continues to bleed. Kaed's action.

Kaed's adrenaline stil singing he realised he doesn't have anyone left to kill and turns towards the burning buildings just as Akiran attempts to stop the flames. The flames press at him, but the ice within him rises up to fight it, as the tribesmen raises his hands towards the blaze. A few moments of nothing and then Kaed feels the transfer of energy begin, the cold in his body pushing out, Kaed feels the friction as the fire comes into contact with the wave he sends out. They fight for a moment and the ice brutally dominates the fire , chasing it away everywhere until the buildings are soaking wet but no longer burning. Kaed looks at his hands, shocked at the power he had produced, then he realised that he is seeing them through his night sight and he looks guiltily towards Thrandimir, realising that others may no longer be able to see well.

As light of the burning houses dies, Thrandimir sees the the fleeing orc swallowed by the darkness. "He's getting away!" The wizard yells angrily, sprinting after the raider in a remarkable burst of speed. Raising his staff ahead of him as a beacon to light his path, Thrandimir hurls another flurry of magical bolts at his foe, striking the orc in the spine and the back of the head. The bolts streak out the other side, before fading away into darkness and the runner is a corpse before he hits the ground.

Like so many times before, Ascian steals into the darkness, flashing across the darkened hillside in the direction of the last fleeing orc. He doesn't know, truly, what might happen if the orc reached his destination; if it might amount to nothing or catastrophe or even prove useful. There's only the need to see something through to its conclusion, to get something verifiably done – and it's with this promised certainty in mind that he lifts his bow again and looses yet another arrow, sending it soaring through the dark to bite deep into orcish flesh. To his mild surprise the warrior still staggers onward, making it another sixty or so feet into the dark ahead before he collapses, the night's shadows swallowing his twitching, gurgling form. Ascian watches the orc for a moment, struggling and wheezing right at the edge of his darkvision, before he turns back toward the others and, bow at his side, walks back.

As the clamour of battle dies and fades away, Thrandimir listens. It's fairly quiet, but he can hear noise from back the way they came. "This night isn't over yet," the wizard barks to his allies. "Into the village. Something is happening." Turning in the direction of the commotion, Thrandimir leads the way, staff held high to light their path.

As the party rushes back toward the tavern and the more densely settled part of the landscape, there's a flash of light from the tower that the guards had built, accompanied by a loud crack, like thunder. As they arrive near the army camp, it happens again, and this time, they're close enough to see the head of an orc explode as a result. A few soldiers are dead, but many orc bodies lay scattered across the ground. Katrin, Callahan, and Ascian can see three orcs rushing up the hill to the tavern. Before they arrive, the door flies open and a figure with a flaming sword flies toward them with a feral battlecry. One orc is cleaved from top of his skull to his nether regions. The other two are cut down with one more fell swipe of a blade. Na'arik shouts down to the party. "Is everything okay? Anyone wounded?"

Katrin gives the large Orc woman a confused look, before rushing with the others back to the tavern. Odd, an orc killing it's own kind. But that would be something to unpack after the excitement was over, and they could breathe. "We're fine," she calls up to Na'arik, then casts a bit of a glance at Akiran. "For the most part. What's the situation up here?" 

"Orcs are dead," Na'arik says, poking a toe at one of the bodies. His grip tightens on his sword, his scarred face highlighted by the crackling flames. He looks at Thezra. "All but this one."

Ascian looks over at Thezra as well and says bluntly, “Who are you.”

Thezra strides assuredly towards the tavern, emerging from the shadow of night into the low-light of the building's exterior. It'd caught her off guard how quickly the humans had ignored her to run back here, as she'd assumed they'd sooner come to blows than consider one of her kind wasn't out to get them. And yet they had bolted as soon as the last of the raiding party had fallen.  "Perhaps I was wrong about you, gubuk ,"  she calls out, her Common thick with heavy orcish tones, "I assumed you all quicker to strike than to think, even if we were fighting on the same side."  As she steps closer towards them, her looming form slowly shrinks back down with each footfall. Even still, she remains a towering figure.  "I am Thezra of tribe Grum'rusch," she comes to a halt a dozen feet down from the tavern door, bringing her blade forward and plunging it into the soft dirt, her hands coming to rest atop its pommel,  "and I come here for it is the will of Chief Kerak that your lands be raided and supplies be pillaged."

Akiran watches this all unfold with a sense of idle curiosity. He doesn't know who Chief Kerak is, never even heard of the Grum'rusch tribe, hell he barely had a drink with the others before everything went to shit. Akiran initially stands quietly leaving it to the others to sort this out, until he notices a gash and a trail of blood on his usually immaculate armor. This would take him hours to fix and polish out, but if the Giant Orc didn't show up it could have been much worse. Speaking up his gravelly voice friendly if not a bit tired   "I don't know who the fuck Chief Kerak is, but I owe you one. Those bastards were vicious and it could have all gone to hell if you didn't show up."

She grins, tossing the sword up over her shoulder once more and stepping closer still to the tavern.  "Consider it on the house, dragonborn,"  regarding the decked-out warrior with a curious glance, she nods towards him,  "Though, those  bastards  were my kin."  She stops once more and looks across at the lot of them, her eyes panning from the grizzled, older human in the doorway to the scrawny one that'd spoken earlier, to the armored dwarf, aloof-looking firbolg, and the other two humans - one hulking in his own right, bare, barrel-chested, and brawny as he was - and the other feeble and gray, though she could've sworn she'd seen that one sprint with the agility of an owlbear at one point in the fight. "Kerak, my shiny friend, is the long-reigning chief of Ore'agah. It is a name I would encourage you to remember, for he is a man of greater power and strength than any of you here could hope to muster. I say that not as an insult but as a fact. He has led our people for more moons than I have seen in my life, and he has brought us victory and protection against the most fearsome of enemies and rivals. It is he who has ordered these raids, and it is he alone who wields the power to end them. Your people shall know no safety so long as the order remains, nor your fields the quiet of night. The raids have brought him even greater adoration than he had before, and I'd wager only death itself could rescind the order now.  I tell you this,"  she calls out, her voice wavering for just the most minute of moments,  "because I seek those willing to do what it takes to do just that. To end the raids."

Katrin clears her throat, gaining the orc's attention. "So, if I'm understanding you correctly, amidst all the fancy talk, you're betraying your own people to help a group of farmers?"

The orc’s face grows dour, turning to the dwarven woman,  “I hardly care for the farms of some weak gubuk living in the hills here. And,” she grits her teeth, “I am no  traitor.”  She raises an accusatory finger behind her in the direction of the slain raid party, “ they  are. For all his power and leadership, Kerak allowed himself to fall under the sway of his heretical, lying worm of an advisor, Duar’ken. He claims the spirits demand  we weaken ourselves with these raids, but he knows nothing of their will.” 

Thrandimir leans lazily against the wall of the Fireblade and takes out his pipe. "I don't know. Sounds pretty treacherous to me," the wizard remarks with a smirk. "Sometimes, that's what it takes to do the right thing." He holds out a hand towards the Orcish newcomer. "Welcome aboard."

Thezra slings the sword up over her shoulder and behind herself, where it comes to rest crossed over her back. Sizing the graying man up as she strolls up to him. His ramshackle appearance concealed some manner of unnatural vigor and dexterity, though in what way she remained unsure. “Believe what you will. What others call me matters little next to what I know of myself.” Eyeing the outstretched hand, she stares back into the grays of his eyes, “If you believe you possess what it takes to destroy these heretics and bring my blade within striking range of Duar’ken’s throat, then I will accept.” “Now tell me human,” her  arm comes up to meet his, her hand coming down past his own and clamping around nearly the entirety of his forearm as she pulls him slightly towards her in one fell motion,  “who is it I would be joining?”

"Ask the Dwarf, Orc," Thrandimir quips back as Thezra grasps his arm, nodding in Katrin's direction. "She's the one running the show."

Katrin shoots a look at the wizard, before looking the woman up and down, sizing her up. "Let me make one thing clear. Whatever reasons you fight for, I don't care. But these 'weak gubuk' mean more to me than you or your vendetta. I will give my life to keep them safe. We all will. If you wish to fight with us, to get to your heretic, that's the deal." Her eyes are dark and stony, as she waits for the woman's response, arms folded across her chest.

"We are of one mind in this, you will agree to this or you can leave. It is the same to us." Kaed stands at Katrin's shoulder in support of his dwarven friend, his clothing slightly blood spattered now he takes the time before anyone replies to wipe orcish blade from his sabre with an old cloth

Akiran focuses intently on keeping his snout neutral. Of course Templar's follower would be this group's leader. The god's hanger-on's loved to parade his might about, using his so called divine mandate to enforce their own morals. His hand comes to rests almost unconsciously on his chest, as he fumes on Templar and his acolytes.  After the cleric and Kaed finishes speaking he shrugs and says in a terse manner  "I Wouldn't be too picky." Nodding towards Na'arik "H e can handle himself. But you lot woulda been feeding the crows, if she hadn't decided to turn against her kin."  Pausing for a moment his usual light hearted tone returning "A bit of free advice, it is rare to find one who offers their sword without charge. I've found it unwise to turn down such charitable offers ."  Smiling he adds with a small laugh  "Though to be fair, I am a bit biased in this. Because I intend to offer the same. Stories and heroic deeds follow you lot like ducks chasing their mother."* Bowing slightly his armor catching some of the moonlight   "I would be honored to write myself into the tale as well, if you would have me?"

Katrin glances at the Dragonborn. Something about him wasn't sitting right. Something in the way he looked at her.... She turns her stony gaze to Akiran. "Don't put words in my mouth, Dragonborn. People who are very dear to me live here, and I will die defending them if I have to. I need to know that those I'm fighting with won't turn their backs."

His grey eyes narrowing "I put no words in your mouth Dwarf. I simply advised against putting preconditions on those who have offered you their aid without cost." Turning to the rest of the group "I will not pledge my life, but I will aid in your endeavors and share your glories." Shrugging he adds "Accept it or not, the choice is yours."

Katrin regards both of them, dragonborn and orc, for a long moment. "I may be stubborn, but I do not turn away aid when it is so freely offered. As I said, fight for your own reasons, and I'll fight for mine."

Thezra watches the the two armor-clad figures snipe at each other with some confusion. The two had just fought alongside each other and yet only now did the dragonborn offer his aid?  “I made no mention of your reasons or caring for them. If you fight for the weak you are of course free to do so. Don’t take offense to me calling them what they are, however. If they were not weak they would not need you to fight on their behalf, would they? If you dislike acknowledging that truth do something about it. ”  She sighs, running a hand over the grooves her her gauntleted arm. “I was weak once. Now I am not. The same could be true of these folk.”

Katrin's eyes flash, but her voice stays neutral. "Well, then your view of strength and weakness is extremely limited. Brute force alone does not a warrior make."  She walks past the group up to the tavern, suddenly exhausted. "I need a drink."

Watching the dwarf walk inside, Thezra reaches out a hand, “Be aware, the group you defeated were not the only ones to venture out here this night. More can be expected to arrive soon, though whether they’re waiting for a better opportunity or not I’m unsure.”

Before entering the tavern, Katrin stops, and looks at Na'arik. "Have all the surrounding farms been evacuated?"

Ascian looks between Katrin and the orcish woman, edging toward the door. He wanted to be useful almost as much as he wanted to get away from the uncomfortable tension.  "I can check the woods."

Na'arik grunts. "Yes, everyone's been accounted for." He gestures toward the army camp, where flickering spots of torchlight can be seen spreading out through the town. "Looks like the army's starting to patrol, so we'll have some warning if they attack again."

She glances at the Orcish woman again. "I look forward to meeting more of your heretics." She nods to Ascian. "Good idea. Be careful." She looks over the rest. "We should begin preparations for another attack." She steps through the door of the tavern, leaving the tension behind her, looking around the tavern for Rose. She walks over quickly, pulling her into a tight hug. "I'm glad you're okay."

Rose smiles at Katrin, a look of relief washing over her face. "You too," she says quietly. The tavern is crowded, with people packed into every available chair. The fear in the air is palpable, but the community is holding fast. This is nothing new for them. A few of the younger villagers pass out blankets from a storeroom that Marianne has woken up. Na'arik is clearing tables away, stacking them in the corner to make room for sleeping arrangements. Marianne sits with a few of the more terrified villagers, arcane energy lulling them to calm or sleep. Rose says, "Didn't you find a solution to this? Shouldn't we just give it to them, too and let this all be over? Why fight when there's another way?"

Katrin pulls back slightly, casting her eyes over to Marianne for a brief moment. "Come on. It's crowded down here." Leading her through the crowd, Katrin ascends the stairs to the room she'd been staying in since she'd arrived several weeks ago. Her new, half plate armor sits in a corner opposite the door, and Katrin shuts it behind them. She moves across the room, gesturing for Rose to sit, while she starts to take off her chain shirt. "We did find a scroll, magic to replenish the land. For how long, we don't know." For a time, she's silent, the quiet jangling of chainmail the only sound in the room. "And there's a complication. An orc defector. She helped us push back one of the attack forces. She claims the leader of her people has fallen under some....influence that's causing him to push attacks on Fireblade." With the chain shirt neatly folded on the bed, Katrin sits next to Rose. "I'm not sure what to do. And the wizard seems to think I'm some sort of leader. But I don't know how to do that. I don't....I don't know how to be that."  

Rose listens, her concern palpable as Katrin finishes doffing her armor. She reaches out and takes Katrin's hand in her own. She squeezes lightly and smiles. "I know you don't like it, but I know you have what it takes. You always seem to know what's right. And you're wise enough to do it." She leans over and kisses Katrin gently. "But don't die. You're not allowed to do that."

Katrin sits for a long moment, enjoying the feeling of Rose's hands in hers. After awhile, she nods to the half-plate. "I don't think the fight's over yet. Help me get that on?"

Rose nods, helping Katrin into the half-plate armor. The expertly-recrafted metal fits the dwarf perfectly, and it shines dully in the candlelight of the room. Rose picks up Katrin's axe and places it in her hand, using the opportunity to kiss her again. "Be careful," she says. "Make sure you come back."