Episode 8, "I Shall Return"
by Matt Grossman and J. Sage Schreiner
(c) 2000

Tron Malkaszar, sucidely brave high elf -- Matt Grossman
Aran, paladin of a lost kingdom -- AJ Drexel
Norel Bolderdash, hulking woodsman of the Adri forest -- Tom Morin
Nigil Palom, noble from a far-distant land -- Kevin Osborn
Hrothgar, sturdy dwarf of the Iron Hills -- Corey Paganucci
Vivek -- Sarah Stewart
Lynndor -- Chris Hedberg
All others -- Sage Schreiner

The tinker's wagon rolled along the forest road.  His wares, pots,
pans, and similar utensils, rattled in the back.  These goods were for
sale to the people of the border keeps, peasants who lived a hard life
on the frontiers of human settlement in the North Kingdom.

The tinker and his son had made this trip many times, though never
with such company.  The human warrior was a bit stupid, but seemed
harmless, though he carried enough weapons to outfit an army.  The elf
was strange; not only was he over six feet tall, but the tinker had
seen him with a book and suspected he could read.  Only the fact that
he was obviously travelling with the warrior had prevented the tinker
from quietly cutting the elf's throat one dark night and blaming it on
bandits.  The tinker reflected that it was never good to anger a man
who carried a sword bigger than oneself.

The tinker's son rode ahead.  A fine, strapping lad, thought the
tinker.  Not the brightest, maybe, but still a good son.  He would
have to find a wife for him, perhaps in the keep ahead.  There should
be a stablegirl who was of marriageable age there, if his memory was
correct.  The road turned, bringing the keep into view.

Suddenly the elf grabbed his arm.

"Shush! There are hundreds of orcs sleeping all around us.  Stop the wagon
and keep quiet."

Before the tinker could act, his son turned around in the saddle.

"Hey dad, we're almost there! Sure will be good to see Missy again!"

Wolves snarled.  Armed and armored forms rose from the woods on all
sides, shouting in confusion and surprise.  The elf let go and spurred
for the keep.  The warrior rode up, grabbed the tinker, and set him on
his saddle.

"We've got to get to that keep.  Leave the wagon."

As the tinker watched in horror, his son was born to the ground by a
huge warg.  Crying out, the tinker tore himself free from the
warrior's grasp and ran towards the prostrate form.  The warrior
hesitated, took one look at the wave of orcs and wargs now heading
towards him, and spurred for the keep after the elf.

The tinker cradled his son's body as orcs closed around him.

"My son!  My son . . ."

****************************************

As dawn breaks over the besieged keep, the orc army retreats.  The
weary defenders are preparing to rest, when a lookout sees two riders
galloping for the keep.  They are pursued by a fresh force of several
hundred orcs.

Aran: Open the gates!

The two riders leap the ditch and land inside the keep.  The gates are
closed, and the orcs break off the chase.

Sabine: Welcome to the keep.  I'm Sabine, sergeant of the guard.

The two new arrivals are a very tall elf and a somewhat dopey-looking
human.

Elf: My name is Vivek.
Tron: What the hell kind of elf are you?
Vivek: I come from a land far to the west.
Human: My name is Lynndor.
Nigil: How do we know you're not spies sent by the orcs?
Aran: I can tell that Lynndor, like myself, is a paladin in the
service of a good deity.  These people are not spies.
Lynndor: Yup.  I worship Lydia, goddess of daylight and music.
Sabine:  Now you will fight for us.
Lynndor: Okay.

Tron goes and searches for Thorlech.  He finds him drunk and
unconscious in the inn.  Soon Thorlech is hanging upside down from the
battlements.

Lynndor: Did he . . . volunteer for this?
Tron: Oh yes, he's suicidally brave.
Lynndor: Smells like he's suicidally drunk.
Tron: That too.

Some orcs have noticed this.

Orc: [gestures] For me?
Tron: [gestures] Sure, come on.
Orc: [gestures] You won't shoot me?
Tron: [shakes head] Nooo . . .
Orc: [grins]

The orc moves into range and shoots at Thorlech with his crossbow.  He
misses.  Tron shoots at the orc, but misses as well.

Vivek: This looks like fun. [twang]
Orc: Aaagghggg . . .

Other Orcs: Bwahaha!
Tron: Yes! [hi-fives Vivek]
Aran: Tron, I think that next time you should try to shoot the orc
_before_ it shoots at Thorlech.
Tron: Oh yeah.
Thorlech: Help!  I have pee in my mouth!  Pull me up!

But these amusements cannot distract the party from the danger at
hand.

Aran: I don't think we're going to survive another attack.  Now that
more orcs have arrived I'd say our chances went from "slim" to "none".
Norel: We should try and send a messenger to Shalister, to accept his
offer of aid.
Gabriel: I will go.  I have a good horse.
Sabine: It's forty miles to the nearest keep.
Gabriel: I have a very good horse.
Nigil: If you don't come back, I'll look after your sister.
Gabriel: Humph.
Aran: Why don't you rest for a few hours, then leave at noon?
Gabriel: I don't need to rest, but I'll groom my horse.
Abercrombie: Cuthbert guide your arm.
Gabriel: I do not believe in your pathetic god.

The characters go to speak to the captured mercenary, whose name, it
turns out, is Falak.

Norel: [snicker]
Nigil: So how much were you paid?
Falak: 200 silver each.  I don't like going with orcs.  They're
dirty. (picks his nose and flicks the booger towards a window)
Vivek: Riiight.
Nigil: Do you think we could bribe the others to switch sides?
Falak: I don't think they would want to come in here, and they're
surrounded by an orcish army.
Tron: I don't think we can trust him.
Vivek: (casts a spell)
Falak: Love! Joy! Happiness! I really like you guys.
Vivek: You don't need to like me quite that much.
Falak: No I do, I do. Let me out of here so I can help you.
Vivek: Suuuure.
Tron: If he flicks a booger anywhere near me I'll gut him like a fish.

The characters nap until noon, when Gabriel sets out.  The party
watches from the battlements as he rides past the orc camp.  He is hit
by several arrows and a spear, but breaks through and reaches the river.

Nigil: I guess if anyone can make it, he can.
Jola: Ohhhhh . . . my brother . . . my dearest brother.

Meanwhile . . . 

Tron: Cover me!
Norel: Do you think this is a good idea?
Tron: Of course it is!  They're all distracted by Gabriel.  I'll just
sneak into their camp and see what they're planning.

With Norel watching, Tron lowers a rope and climbs down the wall.
Soon, he disappears into the forest.

Norel: I have a bad feeling about this . . .

Tron soon reaches the orc camp.  In the center of the camp is an
ornate tent, heavily guarded.  The human mercenaries are rebuilding
the catapult smashed the night before.  Most of the camp, including
the surviving giant, are sleeping in the open.  About 170 slaves are
sleeping or sitting in a rough corral.  They look completely cowed.

Tron quietly kills a sleeping orc, drags his body into the forest, and
puts on the orc's helmet and armor.  Thus disguised, he walks up to
the sleeping giant.

Tron: Hmmm...that looks like the jugular. [spuck]
Giant: Huh?  Arrgh!
Tron: Whoops, maybe there! [stab]
Giant: Oooh . . . [crunch]

Tron leaps clear as the giant falls.  Its cry has roused the orcs.

Tron:  Elf!  Over there!

A mob of orcs runs into the woods.  Tron runs with them, trying to
find a way to break clear.  The orcs seem suspicious.

Orc Sergeant: You! Where are you going?
Tron: I thought I saw something over there.
Orc Sergeant: [sniff sniff] Heyy . . . take your helmet off.
Tron: [misses]
Orc Sergeant: [stab] The elf is here!  Help me!
Tron: [wounded badly, runs]
Orc Sergeant: [stabs Tron again as he breaks combat] Get him!
Tron: Must . . . run . . . faster . . .

The orc sergeant's sword narrowly misses the elf's back as Tron puts on
a final burst of speed and runs clear.  He is now badly wounded.

Tron: I'm glad I have such great aerobic fitness. [pant pant]

Suddenly the elf sees a huge wolf, 8 feet tall at the shoulder, step
out of the trees in front of him.

Wolf: [snarl]
Tron: [climbs tree]

The orcs soon catch up . . . and ran straight into the wolf.

Orc Sergeant: Huh?  That's not a warg . . . aaargh!
Wolf: [chomp crunch munch]
Orcs: Umm . .  . I guess that that wolf must have got the elf.  Let's go
report.

The wolf proceeds to pace around the tree Tron is in, snarling up at
him every now and then.

Tron: Escaping orcs to be caught by a wolf!  I wish I had wings like
an eagle. Huh. Well, at least the wolf doesn't know how to set fire to the
tree . . .

Meanwhile, back at the keep:

Nigil: The orcs are really stirred up, I guess Tron must have done
something.
Lynndor: I'll go help him!
Vivek: No you won't.
Nigil: Yes, the orcs will come to us soon enough.
Norel: I wonder if Tron got out . . .

The defenders busy themselves with preparing the keep for the coming
assault.  Four hours later, a battered and seriously wounded Tron
climbs back in.

Tron: Scratch one giant!  Hoody hoo!  Oh, yeah, I found this in the
shoe of the orc I killed.
Vivek: It's a spell scroll.  I'll hang onto it.

Skanda heals Tron without a single wisecrack, and Tron goes in search
of Mouse.

Mouse: I'm not home!
Tron: Come out and fight!
Mouse: I'm scared!
Tron: If you fight, there is a slightly smaller chance of your being
killed.
Mouse: Hmmm . . . ok.

As night falls, the orcs begin to bombard the keep.  They target the
weakest section of wall, the only corner where there isn't a full
sized tower.  Instead, there is only a bastion, a curved section of
wall with a fighting platform on top.  The walls of the bastion are
no thicker than the rest of the outer walls, and it shows signs of hasty
construction, as if whoever built it intended for it to only be temporary.

Sabine: Damn. Damn. Damn. I wonder how they knew that was the weakest
section of our walls?

The first attack comes in the form of an orc shaman flying a large rock
above the wall and dropping it.  Fortunately, it misses.  Then the
catapults openfire.

Lynndor: You want a piece of me?  Come get some! [thunk]  Ooog. I think I'll sit
down here now.
Tella: That's the first time I've ever seen someone get hit by one
of those boulders and live.
Lynndor: Ugh.
Tella: If you call that living.  Wow. I didn't know so many bones could break.
Aran: Everyone but catapult crews off the wall!

By 4 am the orcs have knocked a hole in the bastion.  With blowing
horns and beating drums, they advance.  Inside, the defenders have
erected a wooden barricade, behind which they await the orcish charge.

Meanwhile, in the field hospital in the keep:

Lynndor:  Ooh . . . must . . . keep . . . breathing.
Mouse: Here, drink this.
Lynndor:  Huh?  [glug glug]  What is this stuff?  I feel grrrreat!
Mouse: It should last about an hour.
Lynndor: Don't start the battle without meee!

As the orcs charge, they are met by the arrows of Tron, Norel, and
Vivek.  When they reach the gap, they have to step over caltrops to
reach the barricade, and once there they are met by the weapons of
almost all the effective fighters in the keep.

Aran: Have at thee! [cleave]
Lynndor: Eat this! [impale]
Hrothgar: Axes of the dwarves! [spuck]
Nigil: Eat steel! [splorch]

For several minutes, the barricade holds as dead orcs are piled three
deep in front of it. The orcs hack at the barricade and thrust weapons
through the  holes, wounding some of the defenders.

Aran: Fall back!  Light the oil!

In preparation for this the defenders had doused the rubble outside
the wall with oil.  A dropped torch now set this on fire, temporarily
blocking the entrance to the keep . . . but also trapping about thirty
orcs inside.

Orc: Kill them!  Gnyarr!

After a quick battle all the orcs inside are killed, although Churl falls. The
defenders rush to pile wood on the fire.  The orcs withdraw out of bowshot,
apparently discomfited by this setback.  Everything now hinges on the
weather.  It has been overcast and drizzling.  If the fire can be kept
burning until dawn, the keep might stand long enough for reinforcements
to arrive.

Lynndor: (praying)
Aran: (praying) [bonk] Oww, hail?
Tella: We're dead.  Just as I started making money, too.

As the fire goes out, the orcs begin rallying for another attack.

Mouse: [to Tron] Pssst . . . I know of a secret passage. Everyone else who
knows but me is dead, and I can't get in by myself.
Tron: Show me.

Mouse shows him a secret passage hidden under a heavy vat of horse urine in
the basement of one of the towers.

Tron: Ok, I'll tell the others.  I don't think much of these peasants,
but I'm not going to see them as orc slaves.

Soon the trapdoor has been raised and the noncombatants are filing
into the tunnel.  Meanwhile, the party handles the important stuff.

Nigil: Sabine!  We need the key to the treasury!
Sabine: Take it! Bah.

The characters take all their money and valuables stored there, as
well as the keep's treasure.

Nigil: Think of it as our fee for helping.
Lynndor: We'll give it back.

Tron searches Devereau and Jadelle's rooms.  He takes Devereau's
longbow, but leaves some papers he found in Jadelle's room.

As the orcs burst through the wall into the inner courtyard of the
keep, a man carrying a pack and a sword suddenly appears, running from
the direction of the outer courtyard.  He reaches the keep just ahead
of the orcs.

Tron: Hey...I recognize you!
Othas: Uh-oh.
Tron: You're one of that fat merchant's guards!
Man: Um . . . I'll help you fight the orcs!

Vivek looks in the man's pack.  He has some papers.  Vivek reads them.

Vivek: These are receipts for slaves.
Tron: Slaves?! (stabs the man)
Man: Gurgle. [thud]
Vivek: Oh, this bit is in code.  I can't read it.
Tron: Why are you all looking at me?
Tella: Let's make like a tree and leave.

Soon the party and the keep's surviving inhabitants are crowded into a
narrow tunnel.

Aran: See, we brace open the trapdoor and put the vat of horse urine
on top, then I knock the brace out. [splash]  Ugh.  Wet.  Now the orcs
won't find the trapdoor. The scent will help mask us for a short while.
Hrothgar: I'll take point, I'm familiar with being underground.

Soon they come to a pit.  There are narrow ledges around both sides.

Hrothgar: Keep left, the right-hand ledge is unstable.

They continuing down the tunnel, they come to a locked door.  Tron
picks the lock, and soon the tunnel ends in a trapdoor.  When they
open the trapdoor, they find that they are in the woods, several
hundred yards from the keep.

Aran: (strikes pose, lights corncob pipe) I shall return!
Missy the One-Legged Prostitute: Pah. Why bother?
Nigil: Let's head for the nearest of Shalister's keeps.
Aran: (looks at small child) Can you say "forced march"?  It'll be
fun!
Child: Waaah!
Norel: It will take several days, and we have hardly any food.

The ragtag group of refugees head into the forest, carrying the
wounded on stretchers.  The party forms a perimeter.  The effect of
Lynndor's potion has worn off, but Skanda heals him so he is able to
function.

After a couple hours of hiking, three huge wolves leap out and attack
the party.

Tron: Hey, I recognize that one!
Norel: Wait, I'll try to calm them. [to wolves] You want a piece of
me?

One wolf stops, but the other two continue.  Battle is joined.

Nigil: Sit, doggy! [cleave]
Norel: I gave you a chance, now it's your karma. [hack chop]

One wolf falls quickly, but the other wolf joins the fray.  Things
start to go badly for the party.

Norel: Aaagh... [falls, barely alive]
Falak: Aagh! [falls, very dead]
Vivek: I guess he served his purpose.
Aran: Urgh. [falls, barely alive]
Nigil: Ugh. [falls, barely alive]
Tron: [backstab] Good thing there's no teeth in this end.

Both remaining wolves are killed.  Vivek and Lynndor are both badly
wounded, and drink from the cup.

Tron: Just don't drink from it more than twice.

They continue on. Norel, Nigil, and Aran are carried on stretchers.
As the day passes the peasants begin to stumble, and even the
adventurers are tired as night starts to fall.  Suddenly they
encounter a patrol of cavalry.

Soldier: We serve Hastern . . . err, I meant Shalister. Sorry. Just
changed employers.  Are you from the keep?
Sabine: Yes.  It has fallen, and we're the survivors.
Soldier: What a weird looking elf. 
Vivek: [glares]

The soldiers lead the refugees to their stockade, where there is food,
water, and bedding.  But they have lost their homes and now face an
uncertain future in a dangerous land.  Their faces show little hope.

Aran: Do not give up!  Your lands will be yours again someday.
Tron: Now we can ditch these losers. 
Myra: Waaaaaaaaaah!!!
Jola: Shush little baby, shush . . . It'll be okay.

The soldiers peer over the wooden stockade into the darkness of the night.
From somewhere in the keep, someone can be heard composing lyrics
about the glorious and tragics defense of the keep.

Voice: "They came out of the snow
Of the far North, like heroes of old.
And stood stronger than the stone
Of the old walls, like heroes of old. . .

They called forth fire from the fallen stones
Of the keep, and slaughtered the orc
Hordes by the thousands, even as the
Stone burnt. But the ice quenced the fire

And the keep was taken, the people
Escaping even as a hero-dwarf carved
Their escape through living stone."

Sabine: I fear this may not be over yet.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .