~ Dire Struggle for Dillend: [Archive] [Home] [Previous Turn] [Next Turn] ~

As the party is questioned by the officer, Edryd assumes the role as the party's spokesperson. The soldiers continue marching as their rear officer looks over the travelers on the dangerous road.

Crayne remains seating on his black horse and seems content in letting Emma do the talking; something which he hasn't let happen before. He nodds at the officer as Emma speaks. Crayne seems to have grown a little more content in letting Emma speak for the group. His initial prejudices seem to be fading...

As the party approaches the soldiers, Storm stays to the back and keeps his mouth shut. At one point he spits off the side of his horse, and he looks up hoping no one paid it much attention. If he sees anyone look his way, he'll lower his head as if to silently say "Oops."

"Pig." Hannibal mutters jokingly so only the two can hear. Storm grins in response.

Edryd smiles and, drawing himself up to his full height in the saddle, pulls abreast of Cy. "True it is, but we are not found completely helpless. We are on the business of a friend and would appreciate news of the road ahead, lest we stumble into a battle to which we were not invited..."

"We travel to the south on behalf of the King and the Duke of Raimead," Emma explains from behind Edryd, "Though as my friend explained, we hope not to encounter any skirmishes with those of Caerloon's banner quite yet. I'm happy to see that Rinder's finest are on their way to deal with the situation. Eventually, our ride will bring us to join with Sir Moore, but for now we must rally support for his cause in retaking Fort Dillend."

She reaches down to pat her horse's neck before asking, "What can you tell us of the situation at the front? Has Caerloon made any new incursions into Rinder? Are the roads still clear? How's the morale of your men?"

She waits patiently and expectantly for the officer to answer, counting upon her and Edryd's status as servants of Anhur to vouche for their authority. She casually looks beyond the man in an effort to gauge the strength of his force from the look of them. "How many of those soldiers won't be coming back?" she wondered to herself.

The officer peers cautiously at Edryd and Emma, leaning to the side to look toward Dire, Hannibal and Storm. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of Storm's many daggers and swords. He then returns his attention to Emma's questions.

"The front is very dangerous," he states clearly. "Caerloon's still got Dillend, far as I be knowing. Last word I heard was they getting ready to move on Mitchend." He turns to Emma. "We supposed to join Moore's men, too. Maybe we see you again soon? As for the roads, they've been clear so far! But we only been marching this far..."

After completing their conversation with him, Emma nudges her horse forward so she can come alongside the officer. She reaches beneath her tabard and takes out her holy symbol, holding it before her. "Go in the strength of Anhur, and take heart that your actions are just," she tells him, then reaches forward to clasp her hand on his forearm, completing the simple "Orison" chant to instill a sense of courage in those that were favored by Anhur.

"He will see you safely through the trials ahead, so you may do what is right," she explains with a reassuring smile. Her hand tightens on his arm once more before she takes hold of the reins to her horse. "See to your men and let them know that Anhur watches over them as well as Rinder's Six," she calls out as she spurs her horse past him and rejoins the others.

As the group trots past the officer, heading on their way, they hear the officer raise his voice to ask one more question. He calls to Edryd, "Hey! Have ya heard any news of the King?"

Heads turn as the words float down the road. Emma spins her head around, whipping her hair through the air in front of her. Dire looks up at the question. Even Storm stops spitting.

"The King?" Edryd asks, "What of the King?"

The officer sees his men turning, showing interest in the travelers and the conversation. "Back in line!" he orders as he spurs his horse, coming closer to the party. "The King..." he whispers loudly. "His health? My officers heard it ain't so good. Have you heard any news?"

A worried look drifts over Edryd's face as he answers slowly. "No, my friend. We have no news of the King. Though this is most troubling news you bring..."

"How is the King's health?" Canter inquires, "How bad is it? I've heard nothing of this before, but then again, we haven't spent much time in any one place..."

The officer leans forward to answer Canter's question. "From what I hear, he's had fits of coughing since the last feast day, and that was three weeks ago. The medicine-men and priests are worried. With the war comin', we be needing our King!"

Canter pats the man's shoulders. "The King is strong. He will pull through."

"The important thing," Cy says to the officer, "is that you are strong. Your men need to see that."

Suddenly remembering his place and status, the offier straightens his back. "Yes, of course." He then raises his voice. "Good-day to you then, travelers. May the gods give you their favor."

Emma smiles and nods at the officer as Rinder's Six continues on their journey.

The journey continues, and the forest, once in on the horizon, begins to thicken. The road winds a little throug the patches of trees. The sun begins to set, casting harsh yellow areas of sunlight amongst the tall, narrow shadows of the trees and bushes. As dusk approaches, with the party trotting along, they slowly reach the top of a small hill. As Cy's helmetted head first peers over the top of the hill, he suddenly pulls his horse up short.

He holds out his hand behind him, and instantly the party stops. Silent. Creeping back, slowly, Cy tells the group what he sees: "More men. Marching. Hundreds of them. And the flag is not of Rinder."

Edryd dismounts and cautiously approaches the top of the hill. "They haven't seen us. There are at least three divisions, each the size of the group of Rinder's soldiers we passed earlier today. And...wait! Anhur be gracious!"

"What is it?!" Emma demands as loud as she can whisper.

Edryd turns around and looks up at his mounted companions, fire in his eyes. "Orcs. I can't be sure, we're too far away to tell at the top of the hill, and them on the open field below. But I would recognize those vermin anywhere." He grinds his teeth.

"So," Storm says too loudly. Hannibal slaps the dwarf's shoulder with a "Shhh!!"

"Oops," the dwarf whispers. "What we be doin' now? Fightin'?" A smile creeps across his face.

Cy shakes his head. "We are in a good position tactically. The sun is setting behind us, and we have the cover of the trees, which end just over the hill. But there is too much space, four or five hundred yards is my guess, between us and them."

"And though we've survived some terrific odds before," Edryd says, "there is no way we can take on three hundred men."

"Are they headed up the hill? This way?" Canter questions.

"How long until they're on top of us?!" Hannibal asks.

Cy holds up his hand. "No, they are heading across the road. Toward the east."

Edryd pounds one fist into the other in frustration. "...Toward Mitchend..."