~ The Dwarven Blockade: [Archive] [Home] [Previous Turn] [Next Turn] ~

With a new day in front of them Rinder's again sets out along the pass. It seemed now that his days seemed to mesh together, an endless trek of silent rides toward a destination far off. Hannibal took no part in the conversations of the day, only raised a curious eyebrow at the mention of more Mages.

Spitting in disgust upon the ground at their very mention, he recalled again why he hated mages so much. Had it not been for the bravery of their very own spellcasters, he would find no faith in the powers of magic at all. The trek continued with Hannibal riding in silence next to Storm, the two saying nothing. He did take some joy however in this days ride. The beautiful and majestic mountains on both sides offering a breathtaking view to the passing traveller.

The first arrow had hit the ground so suddenly that by the time Hannibal was unable to wake himself from his daze before the second had hit as well. Tracking the angle of the arrow he followed the arrow's trail to a plateau ahead. Sure enough, moments later another arrow lept into the air and arced down toward them.

Emma grits her teeth as she looks in the direction Hannibal points out to them. 'They hold the high ground, of course,' she thinks to herself, knowing the importance of that fact in almost every major battle from the Scrolls of Anhur, 'How could Duke Bryant's forces ever hope to dislodge these Dwarves from such a fortified position?' She drops her gaze back to the road, searching for some place to hide when Cy's words echo her very thoughts.

Hannibal cursed himself silently for not being better prepared. It seemed he had allowed himself to become too distracted of late, a mistake he could not let happen often. Knowing that a shootout did not favor them, even in the wake of Hannibal's increased ability with the bow, he looked frantically for cover.

Emma sees the direction Cy is heading and immediately defers to his greater sense of strategy. 'The cavalier has yet to be proven wrong on the field of battle,' she tells herself. Pulling her shield from its binding upon the pommel of her saddle, she quickly slips it over her arm and holds it above her head to deflect any arrows that might rain down. Then, she spurs her horse and chases after the warrior, hoping the others have sense enough to follow behind. As she looks ahead and sees Cy maneuvering closer to the edge of the cliff, she finally recognizes his plan.

Arriving near the cliff face, Crayne mutters under his breath, "A warm welcome!" He hopes that the previous shots fired were just meant as a warning. He moves in as close as possible to the cliff wall.

Storm sits on his horse breathing hard as the group successfully makes its way under the cover of the rock ledge. He looks pained, though the voices of fellow dwarves, despite being temporary enemies, seems to calm him a little. It has, after all, been quite a while since he's had any contact with his people's nation.

Hannibal makes quick work of the ground separating him from the cliff face. It wasn't ideal cover but it was all they had within short distance. There, pressed against the cliff, Hannibal had a sudden reflection and smiled. His Lord had always condemned bow in Hannibal's training. He had said that true honor came from blade and blade only. Shaking his head, Hannibal realized now what a fool he had been for mentoring under that man. Ironic that it had been two arrows that had weakened him enough to be bested by a single Orc with an axe.

Shaking those visions from his head, he brought himself back to the present.

Emma looks around at the others, uncertain for the moment. Should they surrender to the Dwarves? Should they attack and smash the blockade? Or could they get the Dwarves to listen to them?

The priestess looks back at Storm and raises an eyebrow with that last thought. "Storm!" she says, "You've got to convince them to speak with us. We need to parley. Not a surrender. Not an attack. We want a truce so we can understand why they are doing this..."

Storm pauses for a second after Emma suggests that both of them go up. He considers things, though he's still unsure of what to do.

Crayne nodds in agreement, "Storm! Emma's right you know," he says patting the mane of his horse. "We must speak with the dwarfs and find out what it is that is troubling them."

Emma's eyes flick back and forth from her Dwarven friend to the rest of Rinder's Six, knowing full well that he isn't normally the talker of the group. But Storm is the best candidate for getting the Dwarves to listen to them, she thinks. And, this seems like the perfect opportunity for him to take the lead and accomplish something with his words instead of his weapons.

"Do you know the Warhammer Brigade?" she asks, "Will they listen to us? If so, tell them that you and I will come up to talk to them...together. They'll accept you since you're a fellow Dwarf. And I think they'll accept me too, as a priestess of Anhur and a Shield Maiden. If nothing else they might be too stunned at seeing a woman warrior climbing the slope to attack me outright. I can come along to help you present our case. And you can translate for me..."

"I don't like it," Hannibal states plainly while looking around, "but under the circumstances it may be our only option. You want me to move to a better firing position and cover you when you go up?"

Emma nods. "That would be fine, Hannibal," she says, "But please keep yourself out of sight. An archer with a ready bow might provoke these Warhammer Dwarves into a hasty attack...before we even get a chance to speak with them."

Crayne's voice takes Storm out of his reverie, and Emma asks him if he knows the Warhammer Brigade. "Aye preistess, me's know of 'em, but me never actually met the lads. The Warhammers be a clan near me own, but still me never's met 'em...but they still be dwarves."

The priestess notes the concerned looks of everyone, then says, "The rest of you should probably wait here. If we can convince them that we're not a threat...that we just need to understand why they have blockaded the Raimead passes...then we'll call the rest of you up. If for some reason they won't listen and take us captive instead, then all of you are still free to act. Hopefully, you can come to our rescue...and since Cy also speaks Dwarven, that should come in handy."

Emma looks to Cy and gives him a look of determination between fellow warriors. She trusts the cavalier to lead the others in pulling her out of the fire if her plan falls apart. "And you better come find us," she softly says to him, "It's a cavalier's duty to rescue a damsel in distress."

Crayne listens to Emma and then says, "Come then we must hurry for I do not want to wait here much longer huddled up against this cliff wall being shot at by a bunch of angry dwarfs!"

Storm flashes an annoyed look at Crayne, but as another arrow hits the ground a few feet away his look of annoyance soon disappears. He looks quickly to each of the members of Rinder's Six...perhaps for the courage to face his old heritage once again? He sees the look of companionship on every face he gazes upon, and he flashes a quick smile.

"Arrr, what the heck," he mumbles. Then he turns his bearded face to the sky and bellows in his loud, gruff dwarven voice in the language of his people: "Hey!!! Me be one o' yer own!! I be Storm Strongblade, son of Thorn Strongblade, master smithy o' me clan!" He quickly glances around the group again, as if looking for suggestions of what to say. Cy's look seems to be the only one urging him onward, as he's the only one who understood his introduction. Storm continues: "Ehh...er, we wanna talk with ye!"

He looks to Cy and shrugs slightly, awaiting a response.

There is an eerie pause as the arrows stop raining down. Then a gruff voice, not so different from Storm's calls down in response. The words are in dwarven, and Canter can see Storm and Cy cock their heads as they listen and understand. As the words finish, Cy's eyes flash toward Storm.

"What did he say?" Canter asks, his finger resting beside the trigger on his crossbow.

"They say," Cy says slowly, keeping his eyes on Storm's face. "That Thorn no longer has a son. They say that Storm, son of Thorn, died ten years ago."

Emma whips her head around to see Storm's face. There the look is concentrated, his brow furrowed. The dwarf looks down to the dirt below and takes a visible gulp. Slowly, Storm raises his chin, his eyes--slightly wet--meeting with those of his friends. "I not be dead," he whispers defiantly.

Then, turning to Emma directly, Storm says curtly, "Let's go." In one swift movement, the dwarf dismounts from his tall horse. He pulls out two of his swords and holds them in front of him as he walks. He quickly turns his back on the group and begins to head up the mountain.

Giving another look to the others, the priestess dismounts and gathers herself. She knows that walking up the rocky incline will take a good measure of courage. Looking to Storm, she takes confidence in having him lead the way.

As she starts to follow him up, she looks back over her shoulder toward Crayne, Naeron, Hannibal, and the others. "Wish us luck," she smiles. Then she heads up into the rocks, keeping her shield ready, but the other hand free to help with the climb. 'And may Anhur see us through,' she whispers to herself.

Hannibal nods toward Emma and draws his bow, creeping along the cliff-face to get into a better firing position. A few moments later, he can begin to see heads, some covered with various dwarven-style helms, peeking above the boulders on the plateau above. With a sly smile and readies an arrow and aims, just itching to let go if he hears Emma so much as scream.

Emma is huffing and puffing as she tries to keep up with Storm. Despite the fact that he has been away from the mountains for nearly a decade, his mountain-climbing skills are quick to return to him. He doesn't even leave a hand free to steady himself, preferring to hold his swords at the ready instead. Emma, on the other hand, frequently props herself up on rocks with her free hand, and at one point slips a bit and scratches her forearm.

After what seems like hours, however, the path begins to level out. In fact, it appears as if the path has actually been carved out of the rocks, along with little steps up to the landing. It curves around large boulders, so tall that Emma cannot see over them or what's ahead.

Then it opens up to the landing. Standing there is Storm, heaving loudly and holding his swords up. Facing him are at least ten dwarves. Six are holding bows, with swords at their sides. Three others wield axes. The leader, with a pointed silver helm and a gruff, dirty beard, stands opposite Storm, eyeing him in silence.

As she emerges from around the boulder, all eyes are sudden on her. After the sudden shock, she bows slightly in a polite manner and takes up a position behind Storm, so as not to appear as if she is the leader of the group.

There is a tense silence. Then the leader breaks it, barking at Storm in dwarven.

"What did he say?" Emma whispers once he has finished.

"He be demandin' our surrender," Storm replies slowly.

Swallowing hard, Emma steps forward. "Sir, I am Emmalya of Serralund, Priestess and Shield Maiden of Anhur. We are representatives of Rinder's Six and we mean you and your people no harm."

The leader looks quizzically to Emma, and then back to Storm.

"Did he not understand me?" Emma asks, considering it likely that this dwarf doesn't speak her common language.

"I understand," the leader growls in common tongue. His eyes are still focussed only on Storm. "Who are you?" he asks, still speaking in common.

Storm answers him, in dwarven: "I am Storm, son of Thorn of the Strongblade Clan."

The leader sighs, then turns to Emma. "Tell yer friends ta come up."

Emma nods slightly, calling down below: "Naeron! Canter! Crayne! Karelth! Come on up!"

In dwarven, the leader addresses Storm: "So you are Storm, son of Thorn, you say? They say you are dead. Thorn says you are dead."

"But I am Storm," Storm replies intensely in dwarven.

Soon Naeron, Canter, Crayne, and Karelth appear behind Storm, looking over their "enemies" carefully.

Emma looks back over her shoulder at the others, noting Cy and Hannibal's absence. 'Good,' she thinks to herself, 'just in case...'

Then, in common tongue, the leader speaks to everyone, but looks at Storm still. "I will believe my general before I will believe my enemy. I do not recognize you as a friend, so you are my enemy. My general believes Thorn, so I will believe Thorn before I believe my enemy. And I will believe Thorn before I believe you."

"But!--" Crayne shouts.

The leader stamps his foot, cutting Crayne off.

"If you are Storm, son of Thorn, you are a traitor. If you are not, then you are an impostor. Either way, you will come with me."

Cy's eyes grow wide in disbelief. Canter hangs his head.

Below, Hannibal stays in his position. His target had moved away from the edge of the cliff, and could no longer be seen. And he could barely make out what was being said, especially the Dwarven.

"She didn't call for us," Hannibal whispers to Cy, who is still mounted, his weapon drawn, nearby. "Right?"

"Right," the warrior responds quietly. "We are the backup plan."

Hannibal can feel the sweat dripping down his cheek. "Great."

"Drop your weapons!" the leader instructs loudly as the other dwarves behind him turn their bows toward Rinder's Six (save Hannibal and Cy). "This can be done with little bloodshed, and I can present you to the general alive. Or dead. Alive and he gets to hear your stories personally. Dead, and he hears only mine." The leader smiles a toothy smile, waiting for Rinder's Six to drop their weapons and surrender.

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