Demons & Nymphs
With Mount Hotenow looming in the distance, the scale of the scene below seemed smaller than imagined. Below on one of the hills, there was a collection of hutts, and sharpened stake stockades jammed closely together. Black smoke belched from enormous fires dotting the hillside and the usually verdant green grass blanketing the hills was scorched and burnt; trampled down into the earth. Around the outskirts of the village swarmed hundreds of tiny dark specks in writhing formations. They moved like a swarm of blind quippers, the dark blobs moving around one another.
"Krogar Grul," muttered Mazekk. "Means Hill of Bloodied Steel in orcish," he said. "What a dumb name," he added.
"How many do you figure?" Olo asked.
"Maybe two or three thousand?" Kaeru replied, squinting at the writing mass below.
"Do we have the numbers?" Meraki asked.
"We will know soon enough," said a deep voice from behind them. The group turned in unison and saw the armored figure of Torgad Seafist walking towards them, a plumed helm with a visor shaped like a falcon's curved beak was tucked under his arm. A long red cloak is pinned with two gilded rosettes on either shoulder. Behind him walks another officer in ornate armor. This set of armor has a squared helm with only a nose guard as protection for the face. Attached to the forehead area is a tall, wing-like ornament piece. The shoulders are fairly squared, wide and fairly small in size. They're decorated with a small antler on each side, pointing backwards. He is older than Torgad with a narrow jaw and a thin frown over his face. He strides a step behind Torgad and studies the group with clear distaste. Torgad closes the distance and bows to you slightly. He then looks at the empty chest and the small stack of ornate weapons Aethulian was tucking behind one of the pillars. Aethulian, noticing the scrying eyes, nodded to the empty chest.
"It was empty when we got here," he quipped. Torgad sighed and tried to regain his composure.
"Companions, well fought in this pit of darkness. Were it not for your efforts, a demonic host would be pillaging these lands as well of the orcs which we have come to dispatch - a sorrowful time indeed for the Sword Mountains," he said.
"Shame you couldn't have kept the witch alive. Our interrogators would have enjoyed questioning her. A ritual on this scale could not have been done alone - she would have needed assistance; financing, guidance, etc. There were accomplices - now they are lost to us," the other man sneered. Torgad winced and tried to recover the mood with a kind smile. He motioned to his companion with a gauntleted hand.
"This is Ser Jadar Pime, Warduke of the Lords' Alliance and Commander of the 5th Ocerix Lancers," he said. Pime smiled curtly at the group and then moved past to survey the Hotenow Cradle.
"They seem to be massing," he said and motioned to the black tides of specks streaming from the hillside.
"They know we're coming. Our main force captured some of their pickets reaving along the Triboar Trail. I imagine there were others skulking we did not catch," Torgad replied.
"Have your men reported back from the Ferry?' Pime asked.
"Not yet - haven't heard any reports from them yet. I suspect we will shortly."
Pime stepped forward and motioned to the edge of the nearby Neverwinter forest on the far side of the cradle and then drew his hand across to the winding Neverwinter River on the other side.
"We have two points of entry to pincer them in. We won't have the luxury of digging in so our phalanx will need to be able to endure the initial charge. Once they're dug into our men, we can follow up with the Lancers on either side to pincer their forces and cut off their reserves." Pime said, Torgad nodded and tapped a mailed finger on his chin pensively. A sudden snort from Mazekk caused them to turn. The half-orc was lounging atop the empty chest where the hoard of treasure, likely a gift to Kothradin, had been. He motioned with a nod of his head to the orcs swarming beyond.
"That's not a mangy horde of goblins being kicked by a bugbear. That's an orc horde on a warpath," he said.
"Your point?" jeered Pime, clearly disgusted with Mazekk's interruption into their strategy session.
"You think Xolkug and his Clan Chiefs wouldn't expect a bloody feint? We've already bested him once. That raid on Phandalin was more than some probe to our defenses. There was too many and he sent one of his nine warchiefs down in person to lead it. He wanted something there...not sure what. He wasn't expecting you though." Mazekk said and pointed a meaty finger at Torgad. "You've changed the game, he won't make the same mistake again. You can bet that he'll have some kind of trick up his sleeves...my guess...a cave troll or two," Mazekk said.
"Our scouts report no such beasts," Pime spat back.
"He's probably hiding them. Maybe or maybe not - either way. A feint won't work. I'll bet his life on it," he said and pointed his ax at Kaeru who frowned and held out his hands in a "why me" gesture.
"Respectfully Lord Militant, I'd prefer to leave matters of strategy to someone with a bit more...eh...well...education," Pime said quietly and motioned to Mazekk. Ignoring Pime, Torgad turned and took a step towards Mazekk.
"Half-breed. You know your kin better than most. May I humbly inquire as to your recommendation?" he said.
"My Lord," Pime said stepping forward but was halted by a raised hand from Torgad. The man shrunk back, a sullen look on his face. Mazekk winked at Pime and stood up, stretching his back in an exaggerated motion.
"Well," he grunted through the stretch. "If I was an educated commander I would recommend you look at who you're fighting and not what you're fighting. You'll need to win with your mind to win with your might." Mazekk said and strode up to the edge of the tower.
"Elf, get over here," Mazekk called over to Aethulian who was sifting through a small jingling sack. "Tell me what those magic elf eyes see," he said and pointed towards the orcs swarming in the distance. Aethulian rolled his eyes and slowly meandered over to the edge of the tower.
"What am I looking for in particular?" Aethulian sighed.
"Banners, colors, coats of arms. Any sort of heraldry." Mazekk replied. Aethulian rolled his eyes yet again and then stared off into the distance, a hawkish clarity filling his eyes.
"Black snake on a field of yellow,"
"Burned Snakes," Mazekk replied.
"Bloodied Hand Clutching a Crow's Foot."
"Hell Carvers."
"Ogre's Maw crushing a skull."
"Blood Raiders."
"Green Bones on a field of white."
"Poison Bones," Mazekk finished and then waved Aethulian off. "That's only a few of 'em. There's a lot more and they have only two things in common." he said and raised two thick fingers. "One, they're all orcs and; two, they hate one another. The only thing keeping all them clans from killing one another is something that scares them into line. Uruth Ukrypt was the dark sorcerers and Tulag Kurz. Now - it's something else."
"Xolkug the Unbroken," Torgad said, face becoming hard.
"That their warchief?" Mazekk asked.
"Yes, we were able to extract that much from the few captives we were able to take alive. He claims to be a descendant of an orc named Ralgut, one of Kurz's Generals."
"There's your problem," Mazekk said. "Kurz is a blightin' legend to orcs. Right up until he got himself smashed by the Giant King of the North. Then the Clans immediately broke apart and began to kill one another - all vying to pick up where Kurz left off and become the Chief themselves." he said and waggled his fingers as if ashes were blowing away in the wind.
"We can learn from history for a change. Xolkug isn't as smart as his ancestor. He's rallied the clans together but the alliance is as fragile as the Elf's dainty little hands," he said and thumbed in the direction of Aethulian. Meraki let out a deep chuckle. Torgad nodded, a pensive look on his face.
"I see, so the source of their strength is actually their weakness," he said.
"Smart lad," Mazekk said with a wink.
"We need to cut the head off the snake then," Torgad said. He turned to Pime. "Jadar, ready the men. We will need to buy enough time for our agents to infiltrate Krogar Grul and kill Xolkug the Unbroken," he said briskly.
"Our agents?" Pime asked.
"Of course," Torgad said with a smiled. He motioned to the group of you.
"Err-" Aethulian began. Kaeru sighed and leaned back against one of the pillars. Meraki rested his massive head in his padded hands and exhaled slowly. Olo looked out at the swarming mass of orcs and paled slightly. Mazekk smiled.
"Sounds like a good scrap," he said.
"Stealth will be key. Whether you use magics, guile, or other means of subterfuge, you will not be able to charge in. Once we have met them in the field, it is up to you to slip in discretely and remove Xolkug. Show his warriors his head and then we will seize the advantage in the melee. If he dies, they will break," Torgad said.
"Some of us will have a little more difficulty than offers blending in," Meraki said and motioned to his colossal form.
"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Torgad winked. The scuffling of boots on stone caused everyone to turn. A slender man in a Lords' Alliance Scout regali was running forward.
"Mi lord, an update from Lord Hallwinter at the Ferry," he said and handed a bound parchment to Torgad.
"Lord Hallwinter...you can't mean-" Pime began to protest but Torgad silenced him with the look. He broke the seal and unravelled the scroll, reading the contents quickly. A wry grin overtook his stoic face.
"It seems the venture to the ferry went quite well. The water hag which was said to be skulking there was nothing more than a glamour from some forest nymphs. They were unable to cross the waters due to a warding left by the Ferry's previous owner. Lord Hallwinter removed it for them and it appears him and his men were...compensated quite well," Torgad said and rolled the parchment back up.
"Wait what happened?" Mazekk said. Aethulian sighed again.
"We chose to fight a tower full of cultists and demons while Sildar and his troupe got to romp in the coasts with a lusty band of nymphs," Aethulian said. The group all looked to one another in dismay. Torgad let out a deep and rich laugh.
"I look forward to seeing you with Xolkug's head in hand. May you have good fortune in the days to come. We attack within the fortnight," he said and strode away. Pime took one more glaring look at the group and strode after Torgad. Silence falls over the group and the distant sound of the orcs war chants and drums beyond fill the valley. Somewhere, within the center of the smouldering mound of metal and wood, is Xolkug the Unbroken - the key to breaking the orcs of Krogar Grul and the only chance for Phandalin's survival.
