The Hills

Zenithral shakes his head and waves his hand over it, magically clearing the muck from his face. He blinks several times. "Well, now. That was fun." He winces and waves his hand behind him, magically cleaning the blood from his cloak, leather armor, and now-partially-exposed back. Who knows where that axe has been...have to check on that later...

"Come," he says turning towards the others. "Let's find that glowing sash-heirloom for the Elk tribe, then we'll figure out the best way to bring the supplies back.

Alalla stares down at the orc priest she had just slain, not really seeing him as she settles her mind and curbs the battle rage and adrenaline. She takes a mental assessment of her wounds, "Not great, but I've had worse," and turns to answer Zenithral.
"Got it." She holds it up for the party to see, then wraps it carefully in her scarf, which was blood-free. She places the package in her pack, then looks over her party. "How did you all fare?"

Covered in stew, broken pieces of club, along with a number of minor wounds, ug manages to roll onto his back with a groan. "Ug . . . Just . . . need . . . nap" he says with an exhausted yawn. "but ug be ok he says in a chuckle as He pulls over a dead orc, fluffs it with a few soft punches, and uses it as a pillow.

Assuming Alalla's question was only directed towards the others, Zenithral nocks another arrow and begins walking towards the next chamber.

Maverick takes the break from fighting to look around and see if he can find anything valuable as the orcs dont seem to pilage whatevery they can find regardless of value..

Zenithral moves into the next room, ready to fire and retreat to a safer position if he sees anything hostile. He looks around, making sure to glance upwards at least once. After surveying the room, he looks for possible hiding places something could spring from.

Zenithral picks up the chest and returns to the main chamber. "Maverick, my dear man?" he calls to the gnome, holding up the chest. "I've got another lock for you to break. Though perhaps acid might not be the best for something so small...might damage what's inside..."

Feeling sorry that he hasn't been of much use, Ug groggily rises to his feet mumbling about Goliath finesse at breaking boxes. Staring numbly at the box though and after rattling it a bit, he hands it back to the relieved half elf and returns to his makeshift orc cushion and falls asleep again.

"No, um, Ug my dear man, don't—" Zenithral holds his breath as Ug tries to "pick the lock" by bashing it against his orc pillow then hands it back. He lets out a sigh of relief that it wasn't actually damaged much then shakes his groggy head. "Perhaps we should wait until we're all in better shape...This cave seems like a nice enough place to stay the night. What you do all think?"

Ug lets out a loud snore and mumbles something about orc mothers.

"Ah, looks like Ug agrees!" Zenithral says with a grin.

Al notices the sash's strange behaviour but decides it's better to leave it alone, and leaves it in her pack. She stretches and sighs, and begins moving orc bodies to one far corner.
"I think it would be a good idea to stay here tonight. I can take the first watch. We will need to make sure that any orcs returning home don't startle us, or that hunting clansmen don't either, for that matter."

"I'll take second watch," Zenithral volunteers, taking off his pack. After snacking on a meal of some dried meat and cold water, he takes out his bedroll and the metal chain he uses to wake himself up. He magically heats it up, places it on his head, wraps himself his his cloak, and tries to get some shut-eye.

Having cleared the cave of enemies and feeling exhausted from their ordeals this days the companions settle in for the night. The roar of the wind is muted by the surrounding stone, and the cave keeps much warmer than the air outside. It makes for a rather comfortable place to take shelter, apart from the lingering smell of orc.

One at a time the heroes keep watch while the others sleep. The night passes uneventfully, though at some point in the early morning the storm abates and the winds grow quieter. At around the time that the party begins to wake there is a disturbance at the cave entrance...

A heavy grunt is followed by a pig-like squeal, and the orc cook, bleeding, battered, scalded, and with arms tied behind its back, stumbles into the cave as though kicked from behind. Indeed, the next figure through the entrance is Bjornegar, followed by Tansia and the third older barbarian tribesman. All three of them have weapons at the ready, but pause at the sight of the party in the act of rising from sleep, eating breakfast, and managing their equipment.

"What is this?" Tansia exclaims. "I forbid you from interfering, yet here you are."

Bjornegar's knuckles whiten visibly as he clutches his morningstar.

Zenithral tries to act relaxed as he gets to his feet. He opens his mouth to speak, then thinks better of it and turns it into a yawn. Instead he turns towards the others who have relatively better relations with the tribe.

Alalla stands and approaches the woman. "We had our own mission to fulfill, lest our own people starve and perish. We did not interfere with your hunt as you asked, though you had no right to forbid us. We simply completed our hunt first." She reaches into her pack and pulls out the scarf package. She lays it respectfully on the ground between them, the sash glittering and glowing beneath the wool of its covering. "We have only come for what is ours. Please, let there be no hostility between us. A misunderstanding and mistake is a poor thing to spend lives on. We only desire peace between our peoples. We regret that our ignorance and ineptitude caused you insult, and we wish to make reparations."

Tansia's scowl remains firmly in place as she hears Alalla's words, but then her eyes widen when she sees the sash. From over her shoulder, the older tribesman gives the party a small smile and a quick wink.

Tansia steps forward and kneels, reverently unwrapping the package. As she pulls the sash free it shines even brighter, as if it is happy to finally have someone show it proper respect. Surprisingly, there are tears in Tansia's eyes as she holds the sash close. Without a word, she rises and turns, leaving the shelter of the cave. Bjornegar gives the party a grudging nod of respect, then follows.

The older tribesman watches them go while leaning on his spear. "Forgive her abrupt departure," he says quietly. "The Girdle of Beatification is not only a symbol of her new status in the tribe, but also is all that she has to remember her mother by." He rolls his shoulders, stretching slightly. "Do not worry for your Ten Towns. Chieftain's Daughter is an honorable one, and she will remember what you have done. Though she hid it well, she knew this task was likely beyond her. She will remember." With that, he also takes his leave.