Orc Cave

Halla finishes her spell, sending one of the birds flitting out of the cave and into the open air. She opens her eyes, then stands and stretches, careful not to disturb the remaining birds on her arm. "I notified Morrugh that Alalla is heading that way to look for the Cagebreakers, and that he should start moving his forces this way. I hope he trusts a bird. I hope the bird finds him, and not an orc who doesn’t speak any Common. ‘Tis a strange thing, working with orcs..."

She sighs and rubs at her face. "How did things fare in Easthaven, dwarf?"

After bandaging his wounds, the old dwarf sits down to warm food. Having spent most of his life in the wilderness, he gratefully eats his portion, savoring the luxury.

"A dwerf brings no good news yet. He shall try again in the morning. The Chief of the Wolf took a fine beating, but a dwerf has little faith that he changes his ways. One can only hope the chief of the Elk will hear out a fool of a dwerf before striking with force."

Settling his back against the wall, Reòthadh pulls out Aihonen’s blade, turning it in his hands and inspecting it.

"A dwerf was met by Jerrod at the camp, the usurper called this blade to his hands by some means. What trouble would be wrought if this blade fell into those hands."

Reòthadh makes his way outside to watch for the tribesmen.

HP: 160/162

Halla raises an eyebrow at the dwarf’s easy acceptance of the food. "’Tis a meal a starving vulture would be unable to stomach." She forgoes the cooking pot and settles for some strips of meat from her own pockets. Saki happily whistles to herself while finishing up with Hjollsted’s bandages.

A few minutes later, a hawk swoops into the cave and lands next to Halla. The druid leaps to her feet. "My husband is trying to die. For the second time today." She tosses her last scrap of meat to the hawk, and then turns to Reòthadh. "Come if you like, but I’m leaving now. Or stay here and keep an eye on things..." Her gaze flicks to Saki. A roll of her eyes follows, and a moment later she is a giant eagle.

Reòthadh sees the entourage of tribesmen approaching some time before they arrive. Though the ground is muddy with melted snow, the wind is still cold enough to chill travelers to the bone. But the woman who walks in the midst of these barbarians stands tall and straight against the wind. This is Tansia, once Chieftain’s Daughter, and now the leader of the Tribe of the Elk.

She stands before Reòthadh and eyes him with a gaze cool enough to make the wind seem warm by comparison. "Well? I am here, dwarf. What have you to say?"

"Hail, daughter of Elk, chieftain of the enduring tribe. The North is at war with itself, ready to destroy itself. In the shadows, the artificer has shown his face, a devil of great power, seeking to enslave all for his own purposes. The Usurper Jerrod has allied himself with these fiends, in his arrogance claims he can use them, but he is merely a tool in their hands. The North must unite to push back before destruction razes all that we know. Hard times have befallen the tribes, a dwerf knows yer people are desperate. This one will help the tribes if ye swear allegiance to defend the north from those that have no right to the old ways."

Tansia swells under his praise, but then her expression darkens. "The people of the Ten Towns have already wrought destruction to our way of life. This is hardly the first war between my people and theirs! Jerrod will lead us to v-" She pauses, brow furrowed, then tries again. "He will lead..." She blinks and trails off, confused. "I feel as though I... have not been myself."

She turns, then, to look back over at the tip of the crystal tower that shines above the hills. She shivers, most certainly not from the wind.

A moment later Tansia turns back to Reòthadh, arms crossed before her but eyes wide. "What would you do to help us? Would you drive the towners out of the Dale? Would you nurture the herds of caribou back to their former numbers?"

The tired and aged dwarf silently contemplates Tansia’s requests. His face is stoic as he tries to sincerely answer her.

"Whether the towners are driven out or not, civilization will never cease to encroach on the wild places. If not one people, it will be another. No, they will not be driven out, for the cycle continues regardless. A dwerf will help foster the relationship between the tribes and the towns. For an ivy is difficult to purge from the land, but it can be cultivated and shaped into its environment. They must be taught to respect the Northern ways. May the caribou grow through our efforts.

Wind whips at Tansia‘s hair as she stares into the dwarf’s eyes for a long moment. Then her gaze slips past him to the cave entrance beyond. "What is it about this place and me being proven wrong?"

She squares her shoulders. "Your words hold truth. But mustered as the tribes are, I have little true power. Jerrod is Chief of Chiefs, as he proved a few weeks ago." Tansia blinks as if reliving some vivid trauma. "As long as he holds that position, the tribes will do what he wills. There is also the matter of the tower... I can feel its influence lessened here, but it still calls for compliance."

The woman holds her arms out wide. "If Jerrod can be removed from power, or if the magic of the tower can be dampened, I will be able to do more. What can be done, dwarf?"

"Troubled is a dwerf to hear these words. A challenge, this one fears, is the only option one has to stop the usurper Jerrod. How might this dwerf make a claim if he has no birthright? Perhaps his deeds of might are merit enough? Where must this tired dwerf go to meet him in single combat to prove oneself worthy of the tribes?"

Tansia takes a step back. "A challenge against Jerrod cannot be won by a tired contender. He is a mighty warrior, and we thought him blessed by Tempus."

She looks Reòthadh up and down, taking in his armor, weapons, and physique. She shrugs. "You obviously cannot challenge Jerrod by right of blood, but by deed? Have you slain a great enemy, or accomplished some other great deed? If so, and if you hear proof, you need only approach him and make the challenge. By the ways of our people he will be bound to answer the challenge, or forfeit his position."

Tansia places her hands on her hips. "But do not make the challenge lightly, for you will likewise be bound. And if you fail, he will certainly kill you."

The tribesmen around Tansia turn as a horde of orcs appears over the nearest rise to the west. The grab their weapons, and one of them steps up to Tansia and Reòthadh. "Orcs! We must flee if we are to reach safety!"

Tansia curses and begins to move in the direction of Easthaven. She calls back to Reòthadh over her shoulder. "Come with us, and we will see you have a chance to issue your challenge to Jerrod!"

Alalla issues orders to halt and wait to Morrugh's replacement, then approaches Reòthadh.

"Peace, Alalla calls out to the fleeing barbarians. She raises an eyebrow. "Tansia? Of the Elk? It's been some time. The orcs are mine, and we mean no harm to you and yours unless you remain allied with the devils."

Tansia frowns as she looks Alalla over. "If you are who I think you are, you have no right to criticize my choice of allies. You yourself slew orcs, a vile plague that took root in a cave near to this very spot!" Her face becomes a grimace of pain. "Orcs who slew my mother. And now you rule them?"

The tribesmen continue to retreat. "The rumors are true. With the orcs gathering their forces, who is strong enough to stand against them but Jerrod, even with his flaws?"

"A dwerf has never sought greatness for himself, but great deeds have been wrought. Together we did slay the foul necromancer Icasaracht, the white dragon tyrant. By his own hand he did wrestle the beast out of the air. This one knows of what he must choose. The North must not fall into the wrong hands. Should a dwerf fail, he will have nothing left to live for.

"She has offered them a new way, a way of righteousness instead of slaughter. They wish to take that new way." Zenithral tells Tansia, Halla still arm in arm. "If a dangerous sword looks similar to evil swords of old, that doesn't mean it can't be used for good instead. These orcs are no different.

"However, if a powerful sword looks similar to good swords of old, that doesn't mean it won't be used for evil instead. The one who claims to be Jerrod may be no different."

Alalla gives a grateful look to Zenithral, but the eyes she puts on Tansia are considerably harder. She's altogether tired of politics. "We've learned Belhifet plans on breaking open Jerrod's stone and letting the Abyss out into the North. We are here to stop him. Maybe you were deceived, once, but now you know better. If you can't look past hurt and prejudice against orcs and the Towns, and instead keep your alliance with the one who plans on destroying our home, I have every right to judge you."

Tansia bites her lip as she looks between Zenithral and Alalla. "You expect me to believe that towners and orcs are meant to be our allies?" The woman, always hard of face, looks close to breaking. "How am I to care for my people in the middle of all this?"

She gathers her nerve and raises a hand to halt her tribesmen, then points a finger at Reòthadh. "Icasaracht’s fall is still sung in our mead halls. But she fell centuries ago, a long time even for a dwarf’s lifespan. How are we to believe that you were among those who slew her?"

"The three groups have issues and they're not going to get solved overnight, but we are trying to save the North- it's land and all it's people- and the devils are trying to destroy it. If 'allies' is too strong of a word, whatever, but there aren't exactly many sides to take here."

Alalla looks the woman over, sighing. She's certainly felt how she looks. "By focusing on one thing at a time, Chieftess," she says, trying to sound reassuring.

The air rustles. In a hushed, yet confident manner, Reòthadh responds to the young leader. The ambient noise elevating his words as he utters them.

"Long ago yes, this dwerf’s days have been extended, by how long he knows not, but he is the same dwerf that slew the dragon. He is Reòthadh. By this emblem he makes valid his claims."

Carefully, he draws a blade, placing it for a moment into Tansia’s hands that she might appreciate the craftsmanship.

"The blade before you has never failed those worthy enough to bear it up; the blade is none other than the restored blade wielded by Aihonen’s hand himself, bourn in battle as this dwerf restrained that foul necromancer. The elder shaman Hjollsted may bear witness of the feats which this one claims. So too will the sea elf Elissia confirm these words."

Taking back the sword , Reòthadh sheathes the blade, storing it close to his heart.

"Will ye spread word of this claim of challenge that this dwerf, Reòthadh will stand at Lac Dinneshere to dispute the usurper Jerrod’s right to lead the great tribes?"

Tansia takes a deep breath, then exhales. Its warmth rises into the air for only a brief moment before vanishing in the wind. She eyes each of the three companions in turn. "I hope that you succeed. I hope that we find a way to live together here. I pray that you find some way to defeat Jerrod, and Poquelin, and the rest of the evils that would despoil our fair land." She scoffs. "I believe I even saw a drow within the camp, of all things."

She turns away. "I will make sure Jerrod knows to meet your challenge. You will find no trouble from us as you approach the lake, whenever it is that you do so."

She and the tribesmen depart for Easthaven.