Two horsemen ride up to a tavern...

" After this? I truly dont k ow where the road will take me, but a good companion makes the journey much more enjoyable. I hope we will have many adventures Ascian. " He seems about to say more but he hears Erika ask for aid and with a shrug and a smile moves away from the gaunt Kalashtar. "Allow me, all the people of my tribe are excellent with horses, we will get along fine, dont worry." Kaed strolls over to the horse, confidence personified. He locks eyes with the horse as he approaches, noting it's wary glance and smiling gently. All seems well as he reaches out to strike it's mane the horse catches the scent of blood from the tribesman,  the blood of its former owners. It's eyes narrow and it pulls its head back, shaping to rise and presumably kick down on Kaed but he stands his ground, hands wide and threatening making soothing noises. The beast quietness and lowers its head, Kaed steps forward and gently presses his own forehead against the horse's long face. He continues whispering to it for a few moments and the horse calms itself down completely. "You are a strong one, come with us,we will take care of you."

On their way to the tent, the words of the bright-haired mage ring out from off near the makeshift stable. Turning only for a brief moment to look, Cal calls out in a druidic tongue, "Steady goes the helm, my equine friend. Deepest of apologies for the horrors you were made to bear witness to today. It was most assuredly no intention of ours. If it would allay your fears and pain, consider us in your debt when aid you require most."  As soon as the last of the words had left his mouth had he returned his focus to the tent, continuing onwards.

The horse lowers its head to Kaed and allows the barbarian to pat its nose and neck. At the sound of Callahan's voice, the horse looks back up suddenly, obviously confused. It stares at the firbolg for a long moment, then lets out a slight whinny and allows Kaed to keep petting it.

Erika did a double take as Callahan spoke in a language she didn't understand. "Oh you're just full of surprises aren't you..."  She turned back to Kaed. "Thanks Kaed. You're a real horse-whisperer." She then moved to investigate the cart, making sure it was workable and seeing if it had anything in it.

Ascian drifts away from the others towards Thrandimir, crossing his arms and stilling once he draws level with the wizard, surveying the scene and looking impassively at the bound orcs as he nudges one with his foot. "How are we doing this, then." 

Thrandimir meets the starry-eyed gestalt that was not long ago Callahan eye for eye, staring him down with an intensity hitherto unseen in the elderly wizard. " Really , Callahan? What gives you the authority to pass judgement on my motives? Name one thing that I have done here that was not in the pursuit of seeking justice for the people of Fireblade? For Gary Hornsby? For Delilah Hornsby and their children ? Words have power, be it arcane or otherwise, and I will wield mine as I see fit, but don't you dare have the gall to tell me that I don't care about these people. I, for one, won't hesitate to do whatever it takes to extract the truth from these green-skinned savages and if you don't like it then you can either get out of my way or turn your heavenly fire on an old man." With that, Thrandimir stalks off to inspect the interior of the tent, where he finds Kou pouring over the engraved white gemstone. "Ah, of course, my friend," the wizard tells him, his usual amiable demeanour quickly returning. Leaning over silken pillow Thrandimir eyes the carving carefully from multiple angles. "Aaah, yes, yes. I see," he ruminates, before turning back to the monk. "This is clearly a carving of the Eye of Gruumsh, the one-eyed God! They must have held him in high regard." They're soon joined by Ascian and Thrandimir paces up and down as he inspects the layout of the tent. "Ash! Just the man I need to see. I want us to black out this tent as best we can and blindfold the prisoners before they wake... suspend them in the air if possible... they should feel absolute nothingness. Only the sound of my voice. They will explain why they consider these lands their own and if their answers do not convince us, then they will feel pain." The wizard deftly produces a knife, offering it to Ascian. "I wonder what an orc fears..." he muses.

The wizard's strong words towards Callahan surprise her. She's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. As he storms away, she puts a hand on Cal's arm. Katrin stays silent as they walk, he carrying the orc and her pretending to look like she's helping. When they arrive at the tent, she assists in binding the orcs, but keeping her mind on what the wizard had said to Cal. Torture isn't her preferred method of interrogation, and she's a little uncomfortable with Thrandimir's ferocity and viciousness as he and Ascian plan. Not my job to be a moral compass. I certainly haven't earned that right. Her thoughts travel to Cal. He's not going to like this one bit. 

Ascian accepts the blade with a mirthless smile. “Blackout is easy. If you don’t want them to feel ropes, suspension will be your area of expertise. Not mine.” He leaves the tent to begin shredding the others, cutting jagged swathes of fabric with the knife he’d been handed and dragging them back to the main tent, where he uses the existing posts to reinforce and darken the enclosure. With the last sheet he bags it unceremoniously over the nearest orc’s head, winding the tail oppressively around the warrior’s face to ensure darkness before knotting it at the throat. The blade lifts to callously slit fabric where the orc's mouth might be, just enough room to allow for breath and troubled speech without the promise of light. “They care about the natural cycle.” he states flatly, turning back to the wizard. “The power of the forest. Tell them there’s consequences for disrupting that, and they’ll fear you.” Not for the first time that day, he reaches back out to Thrandimir’s mind. Not anyone named Gruumsh. For next time.

Kou listens raptly as Thrandimir's answers  but frowns after hearing the wizards response. Ascian had mentioned earlier that the Orc's did not have gods. He regards the wizard and says "Are you sure, I've heard that the orcs do not have their own gods? Either way best we get a second opinion. I'm sure Marianne may have some knowledge on the matter."

I liked my version better, Thrandimir thinks back to Ascian with a wink, but thank you for the tip. "Rope is fine," he replies aloud, fetching a nearby coil, "but around the torso." The wizard cranes his neck and illuminates his staff as he tries to see if the tent's frame will hold an orc's weight. "They're already tied up anyway. I just want them not to find any purchase with their limbs. They should feel like they're floating." He nods to Kou as he works. "Gruumsh is a mythological figure. A legend from the ancestral stories that the Orcs pass down in their oral traditions. The God of faithlessness. Gruumsh is a deity by rights, but is not worshipped. He was the first Orc to turn away from the concept of divinity and become part of the forest's natural cycle." You're an attentive young fellow, you know, Thrandimir remarks to Ascian internally, I wonder how much you really notice, hm?

Kou thinks back on his time at the Luminous Citadel, where he first forged his connection with Tempus. The Luminous temple had texts & depictions of the worlds godly influences including myths & cited works of the gods. He had never come across anything related to the orcs but they are not the most civilized race. It would be possible the Citadel wasn't able to find any written works on their religious history. He does take a look at Thrand, part of Kou's martial training involved analyzing body movements, helpful for combat to know what actions a foe is planning, and just as helpful for spotting when a being is lying to you. Analyzing Thrand, the mans breathing appears normal, he maintains eye contact and his body movements are natural not fidgety or stiff. The tell tale signs of a man telling the truth, or a very accomplished liar but Kou couldn't conceive of a reason that Thrand would lie to him. He smiles at the Wizard and shrugs his shoulder "The orcs are not known for their literary works, it is possible that the Citadel missed the stories of Gruumsh. I still would like to get Marianne to look at it as well, more eyes never hurt. Thank for sharing your wisdom Thrandimir." He gives a small bow of his head towards the wizard, and picks a corner of the tent and sits meditating until the interrogation begins.

More than most.  Ascian rolls over the orc he'd just tied as he responds to Thrandimir, sawing into the hide that had previously covered the base of the orc's throat and chest. Easy to listen when people don't see you to start.

"We will need an anchor. I will make one." Thrandimir declares aloud, beginning to summon his floating disc once more as he converses with Ascian. ...and what have you seen in me, hm?

Enough. Ascian wipes the back of his wrist over his forehead, where sweat had started to bead after dragging the orc up to the tent and using a knife on tough hide. You like your deceptions. Sometimes for sport, sometimes for pride, sometimes for necessity. I'd guess the biggest one is the one you call Thrandimir, but that's not unusual. Men who name their lies are men who intend to keep them. He stands, looking to the wizard with owlish pale eyes, and spins the knife to offer it back to Thrandimir hilt-first.  You walk a fine line, on whether these people will trust you. But I think you know that. And I think to you that's fun.

Katrin frowns at the mention of Gruumsh. She was very religious herself, and at least had a passing knowledge of the major gods, but she had never heard of a god named Gruumsh. As far as she knew, orcs didn't worship any specific deity. Katrin is pretty certain that Thrandimir has no idea what he's talking about in concerns with orcs. Not that she was going to call him on it. Perhaps at another time and another place. Preferably one with beer.  

Thrandimir takes the blade with a smile, his eyes sparkling. Perhaps I don't need them to trust me? He suggests. It's a luxury, to be sure. Good if you can afford it. Trust is nice. Control is better.

Ascian knows all too well the steep price tag trust demands, and considers the wizard.  You’re either very stupid or very clever. He steps over the orc, winding more rope into his hand to prepare for suspension. Attention on the coil, he intones aloud to those in the tent, “Someone should be on the cliff top to watch the woods. Might be more coming.” You owe me money, so I’m hoping for one of them. I’ll let you decide which.

After arriving at the tent, Cal had set to work with Katrin getting the injured orc set up on a stool, binding the burly man to tightly. They pulled his arms behind him, tied together, and bound his ankles. The time passed quietly between the two, and as he pulled another cord of rope up and over a large binding, feeding it through a small loop, and back out to be pulled taut, Cal found his mind drifting back to his time at sea once more. These were knots he'd tied many times before - often for mooring and rigging when the ship had either pulled in to dock or was far out at sea, casting anchor or affixing barrels to port. He could still feel his father's hands on his own, guiding him through those earliest of knots. "No no,"  he could hear him say, his gruff voice as stern in his ears now as it was then, "You have it wrong Cal. You've tied a knot, yes, but one that has no support. It's only ever as strong as what's supporting it. If there's nothing to keep it anchored it may as well be a rock adrift at sea. Here, try one more time..." As he pulled the last of the knots as tight as it'd deign to go without fraying, his mind returned to the present, and to the sounds of the others now present in the tent setting up their own strange contraption of knots and ropes. At some point in the intervening time, Cal's starry form must have faded, as he no longer glowed with bright luminous light. "Mr. Thrandimir! Young Ascian! I hadn't noticed you enter. I'm unsure what the intention is of all of this but if you suppose it'll help us learn some important information I'm willing to see what happens. If you don't mind though, I'm just about ready to talk to this fella here, ya know? Just gotta wake him up real fast and go starry again. Won't be getting any lies past me, I'll tell ya what!"  He lets out a hearty bit of laughter, "For what it's worth Mr. Thrandimir, I'm sorry if I spoke too candidly before. When I'm like that, I don't know what comes over me sometimes." He stands up and takes in the orc before him. The poor man looked beat half-to death, the stump on his arm still covered in darkened, dried-out blood that was quickly starting to congeal over the torn skin and shorn-clear bone. Cal reaches into his pouch and pulls from it a small sprig of mistletoe wrapped in a thin wisp of linen, which he unfurls and gently replaces in the bag. Focusing on the small, cherry-red berries, he allows a big of energy to surge into them, and in return his hand begins to fill with more and more of the tiny fruits until he has amassed a decent collection. "Alright, this should get him back up and talking."

"Easy Callahan," Thrandimir cautions with an open hand, "not so fast. These orcs are hostile. Moreover, they're a tough and defiant people. If you wake him up right now he will be both unfriendly and uncooperative. If we want them to tell us what we want, then it'll take some convincing. What we need is to keep them disoriented and afraid, which is what our skilled friend Ash here is helping me with. Keeping them blindfolded and hanging will achieve this and give us the best chance of forcing them to tell us what we want to know. Let us complete our work before you wake them."

Cal raises an eyebrow at the old wizard, "That sounds real intense, and how'm I wasting these berries? I need to wake him up to talk to him and he's already lost a heck of a lotta blood from this arm. I know it might look like an ordinary berry but the magic in here will get him up just enough to be lucid. Anyway turning the light's off sounds really spooky and all but once I re-commune  with the stars I usually end up glowing like a constellation that's been brought down from the sky itself, so that plan'll likely run into some trouble unfortunately." He turns back to the orc with a single berry in his fingers, "If you want to help me question this one though, I'd ask that you don't do anything too violent. I know scaring folks may work well but I'll be seeing through any lies he tells anyway, ya?"

The tent seems to shrink around her. She's never been claustrophobic, but Katrin found that she needed some air. "I'm stepping out. Need some air. You find anything useful, let me know." Katrin walks out of the tent, heading over to the edge of the camp facing the forest. She finds a decently large boulder and sits down, leaning forward, hands clasped in front of her. "Might not make it home in time, Rose," she whispers to herself. At least the orc problem will have been dealt with. Hopefully. She scans the forest. Maybe more were coming. They had speculated as much. This could be a scouting party, sent on ahead to cause mayhem before the full force. 

"There's a difference between lying and not responding. A bigger one between telling the truth and still not giving an answer." Ascian starts to maneuver the rope into a harness around the chest of the orc at his feet as Katrin departs. "You're making a mistake."

Thrandimir nods in agreement with Ascian. "Whether you can recognise a lie or not, it doesn't help to force them to tell the truth. Your 'communing' might even be impressive enough to help intimidate the prisoners though - work with us here. You do your part and we'll do ours. I can paint the world around you black with my own magic. Let them feel that they are in a void confronted only by stars that demand the truth of them."

Kou slowly opens his eyes his meditation disturbed by the debate on the ethics of their venture. His skill at reading the intentions behind another's movements, inflection, and breathing led to him being involved in many interrogations during his time with the Citadel. Kou is healer at heart, inflicting pain without the heat of battle did not come naturally to him. But while distasteful Kou saw it's necessity. A crucial piece of information obtained at the right time can be the difference between life or death for those you are meant to protect.  Looking over to Cal and says "Thrandimir is right, violence while distasteful can some times produce the necessary results. The people of the village deserve to be safe, and this seems like this maybe the only path to secure their safety. It is our duty to make sure that no one else has to suffer the fate that the Horsnby family has. " He shakes his head and remorsefully looks to Cal and says almost to himself  "Even if we must use distasteful means to do so."

Kaed takes a pull on the short bow, getting a feel for the weapon, deciding it would do. Adjusting the quiver on his back for ease of use he moves on to scanning the tree line for an sign of approaching danger but between the unfamiliar surroundings, the new bow to play with and curiosity about what was going on in the tent he paid relatively little attention. He noticed Katrin doing the same, she seemed to be concentrating which was fine by Kaed.  He looked back at  the tent, it had been quiet in there for a while now, he had been expecting screams, maybe they weren't very good at torturing, the tribesman didn't know. He assumed they would call for him if necessary.

Cal thought over Thrandimir's words. He and Ascian were wrong, of course. This level of trickery and manipulation had no place in asking some men some basic questions about why they had done what they'd done. After all, the orcs seemed keen to volunteer information in just the scant few moments the party had allowed he and Thrandimir to interact with them before the slaughter had begun. The orcs were clearly upset over the perceived thievery of their lands, which in an of itself painted a vivid picture of the pain and frustration and righteousness the orcs and their leaders must feel. Doing everything possible to deprive them of their senses in an effort to subject them to fear and pain may work, in truth, but it lacked of any honor or real urgency. And so Callahan explained as much to the pair. "I think your strategy would probably be effective, sure, but it just seems so needlessly intense. These aren't archmages or high-ranked warriors guarding state secrets, are they? They're some men who feel justified in their actions because they claim their land was stolen from them. They said as much without any prodding just from approaching them! I don't see any of this as wholly necessary, if I can be right darn frankly honest, ya?" He sighs and gives a sheepish grin, "But I know you're unlikely to agree to any other approach and I've never been one to have much luck swaying minds, as it were. So heck, if it works as a compromise with ya, I'll agree to that whole mind-torture idea if  - and I think that's a pretty big if there - if you do whatcha just said and use me as a means to inspire some awe instead of true fear. A floating constellation from the stars themselves come to deliver punishment and weed out the truth sounds down right fascinating come to think of it!" He offers to allow the duo to complete their preparations for all the orcs, so that his time in his starry form may be best used to its full potential, and withdraws the berry into the rest of the pile in his pocket, waiting for the go-ahead.

Once the Orc is rigged up, Thrandimir nods to Callahan in confirmation and weaves his illusion of blackness around them to confound the prisoner's senses.

As the last of the knots is secured around the final orc, Cal takes a moment to inspect the handiwork and ensure the knots will hold, and also that they aren't so constricting as to be damaging. Once Thrandimir gives him the heads up, he approaches the first one - the one whose arm was torn clean off - and takes a moment to close his eyes and center himself. Holding one of the magic berries aloft near the warrior's slightly-ajar mouth, he retreats within once more to the darkness and solitude of space. The void is all-encompassing, helped no doubt by the enchanted shadow space the wizard had conjured for them. After a moment the first twinkle of starlight blossoms in the center of his mind. Not long after, another does, and then another. A coiling mass of interwoven points slowly string themselves together - an arcing claw here, an elongated fang there - until in the end, the imposing form of the wyrm shines completed. So too does the same occur outside, for those watching through the darkness. The lights appear once more, connecting at single points along each and every joint on his body. As they coalesce around his face in the elongated snout of the beast, Cal opens his eyes, and immediately feeds the orc the berry. ___________ The last thing the orc saw was the diminutive form of Katrin turn sharply and swiftly; axe a whir of steel coming right towards him. He'd tried to yank his arm back but he was too slow, and in the last moment of consciousness he could remember there was only a vague ringing in his ears. No pain, but that couldn't have been right. He'd looked towards the arm, but was met with only blood and bone. He opened his mouth to scream but that's when his vision had grown so dark. So very, very dark. And then, there was light. Dim at first, small and pinpointed a small ways in front of him. His eyes opened slowly at first, focusing as best they could on that first little spectrum of light. Then the light grew, and spread out in swirling wisps of blues and greens and violets from one molecule of light to the next. His eyes couldn't help but trace the path up and up, spiraling around each mote with increased fervor as another sense returned to him - one centered not in the light of this cosmic being but in the all-too-mortal flesh of his own arm. And there was nothing slow about it. As his eyes finally came to rest in the burning gaze of the starry dragon before him, the nerves hanging loosely from the severed appendage caught flame, igniting in a searing flash of white hot pain that traveled quickly up the length of his arm, through his shoulder, in through his windpipe and exploding out of his mouth in an all-at-once howling, terrified shriek. ___________ As the orc's scream died down, Callahan focused his gaze square upon him and leaned in close, "You and your brethren have committed grave atrocities to the people of this land. You have pillaged and murdered and sown fear in the hearts of good, honest folk. You will tell me why, or you will face the judgement of the cosmos."

Fear blazing in his eyes, the orc begins stammering in his native language. Through his spell, Thrandimir can hear him begging the spirits of the forest to not let him die like this. What sliver of sound mind he has left begins to pick up on Callahan's questioning and he switches over to the common tongue, his words interrupted by sobs of fear.  "We took back what is ours!"

Ascian stands silently below and behind the orc as the warrior begins to sob, a small blade held readied in one hand. The specifics of the information matter little to him, but the cry is already a lie, and the knowledge of it causes the dagger to twitch in his hand. He cuts a look to starry, glowing Callahan and grimaces, palm stilling, before over to Thrandimir. A lie already. I'm going to help. Once. He shifts from one foot to the other, mentally making the same leap from Thrandimir to Cal. Eyes on the orc, his affectless voice spears into the firbolg's mind with the stark velocity of one of his many arrows. Less awe. More fear. Tell him Chief Ikkath isn't happy. He disgraced them already by losing this land two hundred years ago. Trying to take it back now has only brought more dishonor on his clan.

Barely a moment after the orc had spoken, Cal heard Ash's voice in his mind. His eyes shifted in the direction of the boy, Chief Ikkath? "What was yours was signed away by your own. Your quarrel lies not with these humans but with your own shame - the shame bequeathed to you by Chief Ikkath. Tell me, was the goal always to sully the clans honor even further? For you are off to a promising start." He walks slowly around the orc, stopping as he stands at his back, and then leans in close - just enough for the stars that formed the end of the dragon's snout to barely  creep into his peripheral vision - and whispers, "Your clans forfeited these lands after their own failure. A failure you have repeated here today. But you have a choice now; an important one. You can destroy the legacy of your clan forever, or you can corroborate what your friends already revealed about what was to come next. Be warned though; the plane of shadow you find yourself in now is not without its dangers. There are those that lurk on its edges, prowling and skulking in sworn silence, awaiting that first slip of the tongue - that first lie, first sign of resistance - you make, to free them to reach out and snatch it right out of your mouth."

The orc does his best to shrink down, trying to put as much dark, empty space between himself and the dragon as possible. "We just did what we were told!" he cries, his voice cracking as he stifles sob after racking sob. "Duar'ken said that Ikkath's spirit wanted this!"

Cal snaps around to the front of the orc, bringing his face mere inches before the man. "Duar'ken claims to speak for spirits long-passed, then. Do not dawdle, though. Your story matches so far. But for how long? Hurry now, I hear those who lurk approach."  As he speaks, he slowly turns his head from side to side, the wyrms form twisting and shimmering in place, looking just out of the view of the orc,  "They smell your fear. Stay their hunger; Duar'ken and his plans - speak."

The orc attempts to shrink away but is held fast by his bindings. "We were just supposed to get the food. I don't know anything else." Reduced to whimpering, the orc continues,  "Duar'ken said this was just the beginning!"

Callahan steadies his breathing, listening to the orc plead. His eyes bore into the mans, piercing for signs of dishonesty - his heart rate was already spiking as is, and his pupils dilated and flitting. But the stars themselves had their own means, and staring into his soul revealed nothing but fear. "You are doing well. You have of yet matched completely. Now comes the final test then - the location you were to deliver the food to. The location Duar'ken skulks and hides. Answer wisely and you will be free from this plane."

"He lives in Ore'Agah," he says, stammering, his eyes growing harder at the mention of the name. "We are all from there...it's our tribe's home." There's a pause, and his sobbing stops. "Do what you want with me. You'll never find it. I'll never tell you!"

He's right,  Ascian tells Cal simply.  No one's seen an orc city in a century and a half. No one. They hide it well.  He looks up at the orc again, and the hilt of the blade in his hand shifts to a familiar, comfortable hold as he corrects himself.  Hid it. Duar'ken won't stop. Get him talking, or I will.

"Unfortunately," Callahan leans back, rising up to his full height to look down on the suddenly brazen orc, "that was not a wise answer. You were warned; your friends already broke. You had a chance to match their story or bear the judgement of the cosmos. So answer this: which do you favor more, your last arm or your eyes?" Cal looks off past the orc towards Ash, "Those that lurk are quite accommodating when it comes to which they take first."

Erika mentally kicked herself for not joining the group in the tent. It was so boring out here. She didn't even know why she had settled on simply sitting a bit outside of the tent on a piece of cloth, playing this card game at least ten times in a row.  Maybe I'm trying to bore myself into being calm. That was a lot bloodier than I expected, and I do need to not have an outburst like that again. She placed down seven cards, one face up and six face down, then placed six more cards, one face up and five face down. She continued doing this until she had all face-up.    "No wyrms again...just my luck. Mother would go 'oh Erika you're not unlucky you're just taking life too fast, you have to slow down.' Why would I let the world pass by me, hm? Be like every other elf and just waste my life doing nothing. Be like you and hide away in a rotting manor? At least I'm helping people..." Erika's muttering was trying to be quiet, but failing. She wasn't loud enough that she could be heard in the tent, but anyone close enough outside would be able to hear her clear as day. She scooped the cards, putting them away and swapping to her spellbook, furiously working away at some unfinished arcane formula. 

"Do what you want to me," the orc says, his sobbing stopped. "I'll never betray Ore'Agah." He begins to sing in orcish -- a low, mournful dirge interrupted by shuddering breaths. Thrandimir recognizes the lyrics as a poem of sorts, one that would be read before going into battle. There is still fear in his eyes, but it is overshadowed by resolve and defiance.

Thrandimir clenches his fist and the black backdrop that he had provided for Callahan shrinks into a sphere of black around the Orc's head. "Everybody breaks..." he murmurs quietly. "Ascian? Pain, if you would be so kind."

Ascian notes his cue and steps toward the orc, ghostly paleness further washed out by Cal's starry glow. He's found since he left the Cape that  never  is such a common word, and full of so very little meaning. He lifts the tip of his blade to the dip in the orc's clavicle and lets it rest there, feather-light.  "I'm going to cut you now,"  he says tonelessly.  "And my friend is going to talk to you. It's going to hurt, a little. Not very much, you'll think. You're brave. But I'll keep going. It will hurt more. You'll waver." His dagger drags slowly and promisingly up the orc's throat. "Then I'll slit you here. Shallowly, at first. I don't want you to choke. You need to be able to tell us  no  still. That's important, if the spirits are to welcome you home at the end. Dying this far from the battlefield, courage is important."  He shifts the blade so that the flat of it presses against the warrior's trachea, looking calmly up at the blackness that obscures the orc's face.  "So then I'll crush your windpipe, and all that blood from before is going to need somewhere to go. So we'll dip you down a little. Those lungs will start filling. He'll keep asking. And that's when the choking starts."  He pauses, settling into the silence, letting the indignity of that set in - the furthest thing from a warrior's death.  "After a time, you're not going to be able to speak, and it's going to feel like you're suffocating. We'll keep questioning. You'll hang here, pathetic, drowning drip by drip in your own fluids. And you will look so weak and so pitiful struggling for air that even your ancestors will abandon you. No eternal reward to welcome you home." The blade drags back down the ridges of his windpipe.  "But when it becomes so unbearable you want to tell us what we seek and finally end it, the others won't be able to hear you." He wades smoothly into the orc's mind, whisper-quiet.  But I will.

The orc, suspended by Thrandimir's floating disk, makes a last ditch attempt to escape his current situation -- through death. He lunges, attempting to drive Ascian's blade into the soft skin of his throat, but the rogue, cunning as ever, pulls it back swiftly, leaving only a line of red across his neck. He slumps, sagging in his restraints.  "No," he says, his voice pleading. "I'll tell you, I'll tell you...please don't kill me like that..."  He takes a moment, trying to compose himself, his breath ragged and short. "I'll tell you where the city is, but only if you untie me and let me die on my feet, with a weapon in my hand."

From behind the screen of inky black, Thrandimir nods to Ash in answer. ...but he tells us first !

"Deal." Absently, almost tenderly, he wipes the thin line of blood from the orc's throat with his thumb. At Thrandimir's assent the flat of the blade that had been pulled away the second Ascian had sensed pending movement returns back to the base of the tribesman's throat, the fabled starting point.  "The city first, and you'll die a warrior's death. Argue it, I do as I've promised." 

"Okay, okay," he says. "At the source of the Baer river, there is a waterfall. The entrance is there. But you'll never make it past the gates." He remains silent for a few long moments, and looks up again, his expression full of guilt and shame. "I hope you're satisfied."

After giving a look back at Callahan to ensure it seems true, Ascian stares up at the blackness obscuring the orc with a spiritless expression. "Mostly tired." He moves to the side to begin untying the intricate knots that he'd initially strung the warrior up with, glancing between Thrandimir and Kou. "Kaed?"

Kou slowly stands, thankful that the interrogation was as painless as circumstances would allow. Giving the orc a warriors death was the least they could do, looking over to Ash he nods solemnly   "I will check with Kaed, the orc deserves a  honorable end. If he is unwilling, I will I do what I must to provide it to him." Kou then lifts the orc and heads outside of the tent, finding Kaed he says "The orc has requested a warriors death, are you up to the task?" 

Kaed turns toward the monk, eyebrow raised quizzically. "Oh he does, does he? It is possible I could accommodate him, give him a weapon, I will be here waiting." The tribesman, turning away from Kou, places the bow down resting against the side of the cart, and beginning to ready himself,rolling his neck and shoulders in anticipation of the fight ahead.