Aftermath

Ven is very interested to see how Avon feels about Wairith. He is guessing that if the assassin is dead that her charm over Avon will have expired. "So, Avon, I'm sorry, but we had to take care of Wairith. She really wasn't trustworthy--we had no choice."

Moving closer, Sandros eyes the thief a moment, while Ven mentions what's happened to the witch. "So, Avon...can you behave if I let you out of those ropes? Or do I have to tie ya up even better, now that you're getting so close to escaping?" Sandros smiles. "I'd prefer the former, although I'd be more then happy to do the latter if you wish."

Avon's eyes just stare at the two. Then kicks his feet around in mid air and shakes his body, "Just untie me, and hurry!" Sandros chuckles.  Glancing at Ven, he says, "I think he just answered my question, but not quite like he was hoping to, eh?"  Moving over to the prone thief, he makes sure his feet are clear enough to walk, then helps him stand.  "Afraid you're going to have to remain tied up, at least until we return to where the others are.  Sorry."  He pokes his sword in Avon's general direction and adds, "Better get moving.  They might leave the whole lot of us in this shithole if we don't hurry back."

Ven remains quiet throughout the exchange, not really wanting to draw Avon's ire.  After all, he did zap the thief with a spell and he feels somewhat guilty about it.  Ven draws one of his daggers and carefully removes the bonds from Dak's feet as well.  "We better take this one back with the others, I guess," he says to Sandros.  "And don't try any funny business, Dak.  I'm tired and irritable right now and while I may not be particularly good at throwing these things, I'm sure I can shove one into your back from close range."  With that, he follows Sandros and Avon with his dagger poised at Dak's back.

"Bastards!", Avon mumbles. Then he shakes himself free of any hands still touching him. Then slowly and recultantly he starts walking in the direction pointed out to him. His throat and nose make a weird rasping sound after which he spits on the ground. A greenish ooze is all that remains.

Avon stumbles to his feet, still back-to-back with Dak, the rope holding them close together.  Ven looks at the pair,  moving sideways down the passage.  He turns to Sandros and mutters, "Well... back-to-back seemed like a good idea when we wanted to immobilize them... It *does* immobilize 'em pretty well." *sigh*

Tavarak silently ponders the where abouts of the key as he watches the two prisoners. Suddenly a smile crosses his lips "Well you know what we really don't need a key to free the prince. Actually Myr is WEARING a key of sorts. All we need to do is to fit the prince with the bird suit and pull the hood over his head and he will be free. I'm surprised those two didn't think of that." Tav chuckles as he nods his head towards the recently departed companions. "I think we should be able to feed the suit thru the shackles then over his feet, arms and neck.

Relieved that Daggda was able to remove the shackles from the wall so easily Andrew is ready to go right then. "The thought of trying the bird suit seems a good idea but we're gonna have to carry him anyway. I think we should get the hell out of here as soon as possible. Checking in the evil priestess' room for a key before we go sounds like a good plan too. Let's rig something up for carrying the prince and head out. We've no reason to stay and all sorts of them to make like the wind."

Meanwhile, Quill has had enough of discussing the evil priestess' fate. After fighting a battle of inner turmoil over what is right, she finally decides that she'd rather it ended more certainly now, then later. Besides, she was probably already dead anyway, so...   While the others still banter back and forth, without fanfare the ranger slides her magical blade into the witch's throat, making sure she is truly gone. "Good riddance. And may the gods have mercy on your black and terrible soul."

The blade slices easily thru Wairith's neck, cutting through cartilege, skin, muscle and bone.  She's not entirely sure, but Quill thinks the head is completely severed -- or it may be attached by a few scraps of flesh, skin and sinew.  Thinking back on what the witch woman had said about the bugbears ("They may not be dead unless you cut off their heads.") -- True, those ~were~ undead bugbears, and this is a human, but....  Quill makes one more pass to make certain that the head is truly severed.

Whether she was dead or not, no one will ever know now for certain ... but there is a lot of blood pouring from the arteries in her throat.  It spurts a few feet in strong pulses.  Daggda looks over at the corpse: "That does not look like a dead body leaking out... It looks like a live body, pumping blood."  She looks at the Ranger with a smile. "Or at least a formerly live body."

The blood soaks quickly into the sandy floor, leaving a dark wet spot.  The severed head is some 6 inches from the the neck

Myr looks around, the sudden, quiet violence of Quill's execution bringing her out of the state she was in.  "Umm, Andrew? Has anyone tried talking to him?  Maybe he can move if you tell him to."  She turns to the shackled dwarf-prince, speaking slowly and loudly, "Prince Geodon!  Walk toward me."

Geodon begins to move, slowly, haltingly, shuffling his booted feet along the ground toward Myr.  Myr turns to the others, beaming, "See!  He'll be dancing pretty soon."  She turns and looks  anxiously up the hallway, "I sure hope that Flybreath is OK."  She shivers at the thought that the little lizard, caught in the pocket of her vest, might not get enough air.  She turns and runs two steps back toward the entrance to the room.  Geodon follows her movement with slow, stumbling steps.  Myr stops and turns, looking at everyone else in the room, she runs 2 steps back.  Geodon bumps into her and stops.  "umm, You dont really need me here, right? I mean, Flybreath is ~out there~ and .. and.. and I dont know if he 's really OK.  So I'm gonna... you know..."  She makes a vague motion with both arms out toward the rest of the cavern area.

Relieved that Daggda was able to remove the shackles from the wall so easily Andrew is ready to go right then. "The thought of trying the bird suit seems a good idea but we're gonna have to carry him anyway. I think we should get the hell out of here as soon as possible. Checking in the evil priestess' room for a key before we go sounds like a good plan too. Let's rig something up for carrying the prince and head out. We've no reason to stay and all sorts of them to make like the wind."

Quill returns Daggda's smile grimly. "Yes, appears that way. Probably  best I finished her off then." She shrugs, appearing a bit  uncomfortable. Killing a foe in battle was one thing; killing someone while they lay helpless was another entirely. But in her heart, she felt she had really had little choice in the matter.  "Let's get out of here. These walls make me miss the light of day more
and more each second."

Tavarak takes one last look around the room, before heading towards the cavern entrance. "Lets get out of here quickly while we still can." Looking at the prisoners he continues "You do know that the Mark will hunt you down and kill you like dogs don't you." The words are spoken slowly, the bard looking for signs that the two understand the severity of their failure to safeguard the prince. "We give you your freedom and will leave a rope dangling from the cliff." Once out of earshot of the two Tav explains the ploy. "It would take us forever to seach the whole complex, all we have to do is wait at the top of the cliff for them to loot the place and make their escape. I'm sure they will, then once they climb to the top then we simply hmmm collect a toll and send them on their way."

Daggda chuckles at the suggestion from Tav. "That sounds like the best way to save ourselves a lot of work, provided we haven't already scared them to death and they leave the treasure.  Odds are, though, they aren't going to know where the best loot is hidden.  Let me make a quick check around this cavern." She stares down at the sandy cavern floor for a moment.  More soberly, the dwarven acolyte continues.  "But if the Mark is really coming, we have to assume we only have a 12 to 18-hour head start.  Once we're out of here, we can rest for six, maybe seven hours."

"While I'm looking for hidden treasure chambers and what not, perhaps you and the others start moving out of here with Prince Geodon, since he's still drugged.  That way, I can get a last check in while the rest of us can start moving and still collect our toll from "Stupid" and "Stinky".

Daggda begins examining the far walls around the chiseled shackles and beyond, looking for unnatural cracks in the rock and telltale traces in the floor.  She then glances down the passageway thoughtfully, and sighs. "Despite the fact he's a whiny little cuss, Avon would be the most helpful in searching for hidden loot.  Perhaps he could stay with me while the rest of you head out; I'm sure he wouldn't mind looking for treasure."
 
To the semi-comatose prince, the dwarven warrior speaks softly, "Your majesty, we will formally introduce ourselves when you are feeling better. I have been sent by your father to help you.  I must briefly help my shield-brothers in here before leaving.  We will get you to safety."

Myridian turns to leave the room, and calls over her shoulder, "Don't forget there's that place with the sleeping beds and the cat and the bubbling cook-pot thing that Flybreath found.  Maybe they kept the valuables where they lived."  Then she runs up the corridor toward the place where she took off her clothes -- and the last place she saw Flybreath alive.

Tav and Quill take charge of the prisoner-orcs, and they begin to move up the same passage.  Andrew goes over to the Prince and arranges the chains over his shoulder.  "Come along, Prince Geodon... Follow me."  And, making sure the Price is shambling along after him, the Druid follows Quill and Tav up the passage.

Daggda spends several more minutes looking at the cavern walls and floors and then, deciding that there is nothing for her to find, she follows along.

[Ven]  "Sandros. I'm guessing we're going to have to untie at least Avon eventually, right? This is going to take forever and a day this way. I say we either untie him entirely or at least re-tie him in the front so these two can walk at a reasonable pace." Ven looks over at Avon. "Does that seem reasonable, Avon?"

Sandros sighs, and nods his head. "Alright, let's cut him loose. Not like he can do much harm anymore anyway, eh?" Sandros steps next to the thief, and says in a low voice, "You do anything stupid, I'll slice you open where you stand, got it?" He gives him a cold smile, then reaches down to untie Avon.

Avon isn´t impressed by all the macho behavior that Sandros is displaying. Actually, he doesn't give it much attention. With a low voice, that is, as low as an half elven voice can be, he growls "If you untie me, you'd better not have the courage to tie me up again." After a small pause he continues, "ugly things have happened to sleeping people before." After being released he feels his wrists and continues the walk.

With Dak still tied and Ven holding his "leash", and Avon followed closely by Sandros with sword drawn, the little group walks back toward the priestess' chambers.  Part way there, they meet the running Myridian -- near the place where the Gong-Glyph is drawn on the wall.  Dak & Myr each trigger the glyph's noise maker at about the same time.

**BONG -GONG** "The Witch is dead," Myr pants as she meets Avon, Sandros and Ven. 
"Which old witch?" Avon asks suspiciously.
"The bad old witch," explains Myridian softly.  Sandros and Veneron follow and enter the area of effect of the Glyph.
**BONG-GONG** "  The Wicked Witch is dead!"  Ven and Sandy chorus.


Myr stops in front of the quartet, she puts her hand on Avon's arm.  "Are you OK?  I know what happened... she put a spell on you.  It will be OK... you'll understand soon.  And we'll find a way to get that spell off.... Don't worry right now.  We just need someone who can cast Dispell Magic.  That'll be easy."  She fixes Sandros and Ven with a glare, then looks at them expectantly.  Sandros and Ven return her gaze with blank expressions.  "MY CLOTHES?!" she nearly shouts.  "You **DO** have my clothes and stuff... RIGHT ??" 

Sandros and Ven both begin to speak at the same moment.
S: "Well you see ..."
V:  " We got distracted..."
S: "... we found Avon and he..."
V: "... and the orc was struggling..."
S: "... needed to get back quickly ..."
V: "... so we were in a hurry ..."

Frustrated, but finally getting the idea that her clothes & backpack and her lizard were still back at the previous location ... as were Avon's weapons and his backpack, Myridian pushes between them and trots down the corridor, mumbling to herself.  "Idiots....  Couldn't remember to come in out of the rain.... Poor little Flybreath... "  About 20 yards down the hall she stops and turns, having had another thought.  She raises her voice to Avon... "Don't worry Avon.  It'll all be OK.  I'll bring your stuff back.. *INCLUDING* the harp, and it will all be there, I promise.  And don't worry about how you feel about Wairith.... we'll figure that out eventually.  I promise on that, too!"

Avon continues walking toward the chamber that contains the corpse of Wairith, while Sandros and Ven look at each other with *DOH!* written on their faces.  With a shrug, Sandros says, "Ven... I can see Tav and Quill coming this way.  Explain to them.  I'm going back with Myr in case this cave is not as empty as she hopes it is."  And he turns to trot after the mage who is running down the dark passage.

It takes a few minutes, but Myr reaches the site where Avon had been disabled and she had left her clothes.  Nearly frantic with worry, she fumbles with her clothes and finds Flybreath, safe in the vest pocket where she had left him.  The little lizard pokes his head out of the pocket and flicks his tongue in the air.  "Hungry" Myr hears him say inside her head.  Clumsy with haste, the mage grabs at her pack and finds the apple.  She rips several small hunks out with her fingernail and offers it to the lizard who begins a belated dinner.  From her sitting position, she looks at the pile of her clothes and armor on the cavern floor.  In the light reflected from the torch Sandros is carrying, she can see Avon's pack and sword.  She looks up as Sandros comes closer.  "Sandros... I don't remember being so tired in a long, long time.  I can hardly think."

Still cradling the lizard in her hands, she rests her forehead on her knees, feeding him little pieces of apple.

Tav and Quill are coming into the outer of the two "rooms", near the place where Avon first stood when he saw Wairith.  Avon pushes into them.  "Let me through.  I am going back there."  His voice has a dark and dangerous sound.

Tavarak puts his hand on the slight half-elf's chest.  "Avon," he says soothingly, "she is dead.  She was trying to kill us.  We had no choice."  But the thief is agile and slippery to grab.  He feints right and quickly dodges the other way and is past Tav in a flash.  He is running now, full speed.  He dodges around Andrew and the stumbling dwarven Prince.  Eventually he comes to the room with Daggda and the decapitated corpse.

Avon staggers to a halt in the sand, gasping for breath, as he sees the body.  Daggda stops her searching and faces the thief, ready for any hostile action he may take.  But Avon simply stands over Wairith ... a weird mixture of emotions washing over him.  One part of his mind is screaming:  "The love of my life is gone.. GONE!!  And **THEY** killed her."  And in between these hyper-emotional thoughts, another part of his mind is thinking that he had known her less than an hour, and hearing Myr's words: "She put a spell on you."  He falls to his knees, then sinks to a sitting position.  He is staring at her head, confused and unsure of what part of his mind is telling the truth.

The long day has taken it's toll on everyone, to be sure -- it has now been over 16 hours since they arose this morning (or was it yesterday?!) in the safety and tranquility of Kalban's cave-home.  But Avon is at the end ... the long walk and strenuous climb down, still partly covered in the blood of the very first orc that was killed, the combination of exhaustion, the adrenalin-rush of combat, frightened at the long and dark exploration of the tunnel, bluffing his way into Wairith's confidence, her spell on him, and his subsequent frustration at failing to convince his comrades, and now the double shock of Myr's words and the severed head of the one who charmed him ... All that has left Avon stunned.  He is just staring at the body ... eyes unfocused ... his mind is somewhere... But it is not here.  He cannot deal with all this right now.

Daggda watches the half-elf as he crumbles in on himself.  She has not seen *this* before, perhaps no one ever has... but she has seen something very much like it.  She has seen battle fatigue.  The glazed look in the eyes of those who have spent too many hours swing an axe against too many enemies.  That look that comes when it is over, body exhausted beyond  any reserve--beyond any limit-- and one looks around to see so many dead.  They wonder why they are among the few left alive.  Sometimes it is cured quickly by a little rest and some food... sometimes it takes a long time to recover. 

The dwarven warrior and Acolyte of Moradin, The Hammer of Righteousness, puts down her weapon and walks over to Avon, slumped on the floor against the wall.  She puts her hand on his shoulder, "It's over Avon... It's all over now... It's all over."

Tavarak, leading the parade of exhausted adventurers, follows the passage back to the room where combat took place.  He is trailed by a procession of silent comrades: Quill, Andrew, Prince Geodon, Ven, the three orc prisoners, Daggda & Avon.  Along the way they are joined by Sandros and Myridian, who found the energy to get dressed.  Sandros carries Avon's pack.

Tavarak makes his way towards the exit, taking a quick detour to search the cave with the cat. He conducts a search. "We should head back to Kalbans home and rest there for a day or two. We need the rest and the prince could use the time to recover." Tav ponders what the future will hold for the companions...We promised to aid him with his intruder problem, then we need to sneak the prince into the city, then sneak back out of the city to find, Tav cringes, another witch to help cure the vampire sickness.

The group follows Myr's directions (picked up from Flybreath) to the rooms where the orcs had slept and eaten.
In this room are sleeping pallets for 20, and over a low cook-fire, a bubbling kettle with fish stew, which the cat is sniffing in an interested manner. 

The group stands in a rough semi-circle, eyes glazed.  Tav finds the energy to do a rough search of the room, coming up with several bags of coins -- mostly silver and copper -- perhaps 300 -400 coins in all.  The orcs had their weapons with them, several useful short swords and clubs, 3 crossbows in total.

In an adjoining room, Tav finds a separate sleeping room -- probably Jarg's he reasons.

Putting all the valuable things in a pile, he comes up with:

2 kegs water - partial full
2 open packing cases containing iron ration packs 
a partially full barrel of apples
a case of cabbage
10 sets fishing line and hooks
6x50' rope
5 grapnels

40gp, 106sp, 80cp -total value of coins
a fancy leather belt belt
a jeweled dagger, embossed with an ornate "G" on the handle
a fancy silver/gold symbol on silver/gold neck chain
a fine velvet purse containing 50gp, 50sp

Final Map of the Devils Point Caves

As Tav assembles the loot from the living quarters, Daggda realizes with the battle-fury passed from her blood, she is completely exhausted. She briefly stumbles as she approaches the loot gathered by Tav. Catching herself, she glances quickly at Prince Geodon, and gains her composure. She picks up the fancy leather belt, jeweled dagger, and velvet purse, placing all into one of four empty sacks she pulls from her backpack.

She inspects the silver and gold symbol to see if it is the one she has been searching for. She recognizes the symbol as the emblem of state of King Basalt's royal house, and places it into the sack with the dagger, belt and purse.   "These are the belongings of Prince Geodon. I will carry them for him until he is rested, if somebody will lead the way to Kalban's home."

"We should each grab a pack of iron rations. Avon, perhaps you can help us with these ropes and grappling hooks, we will need them to scale the face of the cliff," Daggda points absently points to the ropes while replacing the space in her backpack from the large, empty sacks with a set of iron rations. Resecuring her backpack with the sack containing the Prince's belongings lashed atop it, she looks at her weary companions and smiles.

"Praise be to the Flame of the Eternal Forge, shield-brothers. Only a little while until we rest," she murmurs softly, in a tone that could pass as almost motherly for Daggda. She clears her throat, although her succeeding words and deep, throaty, and unmistakeably Dwarven:

"Bin auraglor samman au tukitul;
Morndin de findar au mitukul;
Noror de alagh au drungul;
Ut Moradin Grund Gorl au lokul."

In the same low chant, with almost a lyrical cadence, the acolyte repeats her words in common:

"By the Great Lake were shield-brothers made;
By great luck was the High One discovered;
With great valor were our enemies vanquished;
To Moradin, the Righteous Hammer, we give great praise."

Daggda finds some clean-looking bowls and mumbles the quick chant over each as she ladles the fish chowder out to the others, giving the first two to Tavarak and Quill.  As they begin to eat, each is finds him/herself feeling much renewed and re-engergized.

Tavarak nods as Daggda assembles the princes belongings. "I'm sure he will appreciate his gear when he is able to fathom the situation more clearly." The bard watches the others begin to eat, his mouth watering and his stomach growling. Accepting the bowl from Daggda with a nod, he digs in like there is no tomorrow, savouring the fare.

Ven seems oblivious to the "treasure" that the others are gathering. He only smells the fish chowder. He is drawn to it. He inhales deeply, mouth salivating. He looks around and finally finds a cup and a wooden ladle. He scoops out a bowl full and looks at the others, wondering how they are resisting. After all it's been hours and hours since their last meal. "I really think it would be way to subtle for this group to have poisoned the soup. I'm gonna try it." With that, Ven takes a tentative sip. Nods his head approvingly and gulps down the rest. He refills and repeats. He is reaching in for his third bowl when Daggda's rough dwarven chant startles him back to the current reality. He hurriedly finishes the third bowl and prepares to leave with the others, feeling much better.

Avon sits staring into nothingness. Slowly he eats. He says nothing. His movements are slow and automatic. He almost looks like a automated doll. After eating he lies down and goes to sleep.

Andrew says he doesn't think climbing a cliff face while drop dead tired and with two zombies a very good idea

Sandros, like everyone else, seems dead tired. But he raises his head long enough to voice his opinion.  "I'd say maybe we should just try and get some rest, here. We'll never make it up that cliff until we do. We can post some watches, and if we see a boat on the horizon, we'll have to high-tail it out of here, then." He shrugs. "At least a few hours rest, and we'll be able to get out of here much easier, I think."

Daggda is too tired to resist the tempting thought of some rest, especially after her spellcasting chant. Watching Ven and the others hungrily slurping the fish stew with equal parts of envy and disgust, she murmurs, "Would serve us right if it was poisoned."

Resignedly, she puts down her pack and pulls out her bedroll, rolling the comatose prince onto the matting and pulling the thin blanket over him. She looks at Avon snoring blissfully nearby, and lays down between him and the prince, trying to get comfortable on the sandy floor. She eyes the bug-infested bedding of the orcs, and instead opts to make a pillow out of her backpack, using her cloak as a blanket. "Nine hours here. Somebody needs to take the first and second three-hour watches, wake me for the third." She remembers long weeks patrolling the Gates of Hizak in the Underhome of the Great Rift, and how her father told her that all the two-legged races sleep in 90-minute cycles...She hoped six hours rest would be enough. "Moradin watch us tonight," she whispers, eyes inexorably closing.

Only Tav and Quill are wide awake, thanks to Daggda little spell, so they decide to take the first watch, as the others settle down to sleep.    They take the lantern recovered from Wairith's room outside of the sleeping area and walk around, trying to look everywhere at once.  The waves of the ocean splash nearby peacefully, monotonously.  They go out to look and judge that the tide is coming in. 

"Good," says Tav.  "That means we're past low tide, and there should be no chance of a ship coming in soon."  He asks Quill about Dragon's Claw -- the magic sword.  She draws it and hands it over for Tav to hold.  It vibrates in his hand, making it a bit ackward to wield. 

"Yes," says the Ranger, "It was the same in my hand, too.  Until I drew it in battle, and it tasted blood for the first time.  Since then it has pulsed very comfortably, in time with my heartbeat and the normal vibrations of my body."

Tav tries making it glow with light, and succeeds before he is even able to formulate the thought completely.  The blade is somehow able to discern the desire for light -- or lack of light -- in whoever holds it.  But the uncomfortable, yet nearly undiscernable, vibration of Dragon's Claw makes Tav hand it back to Quill soon enough.

The time passes quickly and after several hours, the two go in to rouse Sandros for the next watch.  They decide to let all the spell casters continue to sleep.  Sandros should have plenty of warning if someone was coming, agreed all three of them.  Lost to their thought was the idea that any threat could come from the caves.  Each looked to the sea as the likely source of danger.

Tav thanks Quill for the insight into the sword, unconsciously rubbing the palm of his hand on this pant leg. "The power contained in the sword is amazing isn't it? I would cherish the opportunity to wield such a weapon in battle." After waking the next watch Tav drifts off to sleep still pondering the weapons raw power.

Quill nods at his words, and notes his interest in the weapon. "It is truly an amazing blade. I begin to wonder if there is anything it cannot cut through as if so much parchment." She smiles.

Sandros takes part of his watch to go back to the combat site and gather the weapons into a pile near his watch post.  He was more than a little uneasy at being unable to see into the darkness.  Even outside, the sky was clouded and the moonlight faint.  More than once he thought of waking Veneron, just to have some company ... but he refrained, thinking that the mage's spell casting strength tomorrow would be so much more valuable than a little chat tonite.   He busied himself with his juggling and several more bowls of the fish chowder.  Too much garlic, he thought to himself.  Much too much garlic.

Chatting with Prince Geodon

As dawn was breaking over the ocean, Sandros rose and stretched.  He did some quick exercises to get his blood flowing again, then went to wake the others.  He found the cat poised to pounce at Myr's vest pocket, which was moving slightly.

The party woke slowly, and each began his/her normal morning routine, before taking some apples for breakfast from a nearby barrel.  Avon seemed more like his normal self, but was very quiet.  He found that he would sometimes stare at nothing for long periods of time, listening to those competing voices in his mind.

The bard wakes up feeling rested. He takes the time to clean up his gear as best he can, finally taking a sharpening stone to his sword. Looking over at the "treasure" he picks out and stores in his backpack -5 days worth of iron ration packs -A set of fishing line and hooks -1 x 50' rope -1 grapnel

Prince Geodon was hardest to rouse.  Eventually he sat up, clutching his head.  "By the Forge!," he said.  "My head feels as if it is filled with wool -- hot and burning wool, at that."  He looks around at the others, somewhat confused.  Eventually he sees Daggda, and rubs his eyes with the back of his hands.

"You there..." This he aims at Daggda's general direction.  "I assume you are in charge of this group ... thus I have you to thank for this rescue... if that is what it is.  Where in the Five Circles of the Underworld are we?  And who the devil are you?  You look familiar, but..." 

Daggda quickly rolls up the bedroll as the prince finally wakes up. Surprised his first words would be in Common, she answers likewise. "Good morning, your majesty. Don't worry, you're not getting weak in your ale, it's just the drugs wearing off. You are in the caves at Devil's Point, about a week's march south of Squarento." Looking the prince steadily in the eye, she raises her left arm palm outwards. "I am Daggda Moraduntil, Daul of Grim the Orc-Mauler, Blood of Hizak the Gate-Maker, Ward of Teiwaz the Elder, Acolyte of Moradin the Battle-Forger, Flame of the Eternal Forge, the Righteous Hammer, Charge of King Basalt IV of Dwarvenholm, of Underhome in the Great Rift. Samman, kuld ek dur." With a solemn flourish, Daggda bends to one knee and places a gauntleted fist over her left breast.

Other than the prince, a master of dwarven ettiquette who absorbs the dwarven introduction casually, only Tavarak follows the introduction with any interest. To his ears, it seemed longer than the introduction she gave to the rest of the party, and he could swear she put a little extra emphasis on the word 'daul'. Still, the haphazard mix of formality and casual humor is strange to non-dwarven ears.

"And as for being the leader of this zander-gaggle... Well, you missed a great arlagh, for they are good samman indeed, but we only share the goal of getting you safely to Squarento, whether it be for reward or favor."

Prince Geodon nods in acknowledgement of the introduction, replying in the dwarven tongue. "I, Geodon Dwellstone Meltar Smarth of the House of Dwarvenholm, Heir to Basalt Rockfast, Blood of Harn Mighty-Axe, Father to Vulcan, Protector of the NightGate and High Commissioner to Melfis, accept your service Annar Moraduntil, DAUL of Grim."

Daggda's face reddens at being called "Annar" -- a rather condescending term used for young, inexperienced women. She grips her pick tightly for a moment, digging a small notch in the haft with a gauntled fingertip.

The Prince reverts to common for the remainder of his comments. "I accept you as second in command of this rag-tag group. I assure you," he waves a hand to the other adventurers "that there will be suitable reward for my safe return.... It's traditional and all that."

Eventually the group is ready to go, having decided what items to take, and what to leave behind. 

Leaving the Orcs Behind

As the companions arrive at the cliff face Tav voices his thoughts on the subject of the prisoners, "Let them go, its not worth killing them, and I'll not be part of a senseless slaughter."

Sandros voices his agreement. "Yeah, they can't really do much to harm us at this point. Heck, they may not be able to even climb out of here without breaking their necks. And if they're smart...they won't be around when their friends show up. I'm sure the Arm doesn't deal too well with failure." He makes sure this last is overheard by their prisoners.

Andrew doesn't want the orcs killed like dogs either but he also understands that letting them go puts the party at risk since the consensus is let them go then that is good enough for Andrew wondering how hard it will be on them to reap what we've sewn.

Daggda silently acedes to letting the orcs go, scowling darkly at them and well-aware the prince was probably wondering what the daul of Grim the Orc-Mauler was doing showing mercy to 'filthy sargh.' But the prince does not mention the orcs. Instead he focuses on the return.

Avon has been silent and on his own for most of the time after waking up.

His eyes lie deep in his head, the skin around his eyes is bluish black. Basically, he looks tired. And although his movements seem slow, the moment the three 'prisoners' are supposed to set free he draws his sword as fast as he can.

He grabs the orc nearest to him pulls back his head and slices the throat. Then with one fluid motion he stabs at the nearest one.

Tavarak watches as the thief goes for his sword. Quickly, stepping infront of the hapless orcs, the bard pushes Avon off balance, and draws his own sword. "I'll not stand by and watch you slay them in cold blood."

"Being nice is one thing, being stupid is something different."  He looks around the cave, and continues, "You do not mess with these people, and you sure as hell don't leave any witnesses."

He wipes his sword on the clothes of one of his victims and is silent for the rest of the time in the caves.

Daggda watches Tav and Avon, her pick in hand, her young face contorted with conflicting thoughts.  Darkly, she backs a step towards Tav and faces Avon grimly.  "There is no battle-glory in spilling their foul blood, though they are an offense to Moradin.  Besides, Avon, we simply don't have time for this.  May the All-Forger may forgive me."  A tinge of doubt lingers in her voice.

To the orcs, who she has refused to address until now, "If you value your filthy hides, you'll run from hear as well, for the Mark will not be as merciful as us." She turns to continue up the cliff...

Geodon mutters to himself in dwarven as the party leaves the orcs alive, apparantly thinking no one can hear him.... or perhaps he does not care.... But Daggda hears. "Soft, as well. ... Should be back at the hearth."

Daggda does not turn around, but her face reddens again as she unconsciously digs another notch in the haft of her weapon.

"Absolute madness!" the Avon cries out.  Frustration radiates from every move he makes. "How can you be so unbelievably stupid?"  He throws his hands in the air and whirls around as he is confronted by probably the only group in the the whole of Melfis that would sign their own death warrant.  "Soth! This is just beyond words. You stupid and sad people."  He puts away his sword and lets his shoulders hang.  "This is it, I am leaving. You can keep your damned reward.  I hope you live long enough to enjoy it."  Avon looks determined.  "Just give me my stuff, and my share of the treasures so far and I am gone! Aaargh!"  The last sound he makes is one of barely surpressed frustration.

And so, almost 24 hours exactly after they had entered the cavern, and only 8 days after they had set out on this journey, the party of adventurers found iteself back in the long dark tunnel behind the secret door.  Retracing their steps. 

Sandros was looking at the Tide Book taken from the half-orc's room back in Squarento.  "It looks like low tide will be just after dark, I think."  He reads by the light of Quill's sword as they walk.  "We'll need low tide to get thru that room at the end of the secret passage.  That place floods, if I remember rightly."

So they took their time, and got to the area near the exit point in the late afternoon.  The tide was indeed going out.  Sandros and Ven lept for the ropes that were still dangling and brought them to the side.  One by one they climbed up... Veneron, as the most "experienced climber" in the group went first, to check for danger topside.  He laughed to himself at the idea:  he so-called experience had consisted of tagging along as his stronger brothers blazed a trail up the side of some mountains back home.

Ven wakes feeling much better. However, he is again starving and the now tepid chowder looks very unappealing. With Sandros indicating that the group wouldn't be able to ascend until the afternoon, Ven decides to try his hand at fishing. He really is hungry. He looks about for some useful bait. At the sight of little Flybreath he gets an idea, but Myr gives him the look of death so he moves on. Eventually, on the sandy part of the beach, Ven is able to catch a few small crabs which he promptly hooks (of course, he did prick his finger first). He then ties a rock a couple of feet up the line from the bait and tosses it out into ocean and settles down to wait.

"Sandy," he calls out. "Why don't you get another one of these from Tav and join me. Maybe we can catch some breakfast." Ven eventually gives up and settles for some rations, grumbling about his bad luck.

The climbing starts... and eventually, they all got to the open air, above the cliffs.  It was nearly night now, and all were pleased to be above ground.

Upon reaching the top Tavarak walks over and recovers the small black pearl that he buried prior to the decent. "Lets make our way to Kalban's home, perhaps he can help us sneak the Prince back into the City"

Quill seems to like the idea. "Yes...perhaps he can. Or maybe we'll think of something as we travel. All I know is I want to get as far from here as we can."

"Right then," said Prince Geodon to Daggda, who he still regarded as the leader of the band.  "Where is the horse you've arranged for me?"  He began brushing the dust off his clothes with his hands.  "I'm eager to be back at the Palace with a good meal in front of me at the homecoming celebration."

"A celebration would be in order, your majesty, and I would be honored to drink your ale, once we have you home safely," Daggda says, quite nonchalantly changing tone from formal to brusque as only dwarves can do, "but you'd better have some soft boots. Your soft royal feet are in for a solid hike. Above ground." She chuckles, and pulls the sack off the top of her backpack. Handing to Prince Geodon, she says, "Here's what we could find of your things. You may want to just melt them down, though- we found them in the sargh lair." She laughs, and falls into marching behind Sandros and Tavarak towards Kalban's home.

Geodon stops dead and turns to Daggda, saying in dwarvish, his voice laced with sarcasm, "Were we so unsure of accomplishing the rescue that we made no provision for getting home comfortably?" And he shakes his head sadly. He looks at the items Daggda rescued from the pile of junk in the caverns below... then hands them back to Daggda, obviously expecting her to carry them.

"Your majesty, you may want to hear what has been happening around Melfis while you've been gone..."

"No not really," says the Prince. "It cant have been anything I did not anticipate weeks ago. But *DO* continue. We have this LONG LONG walk ahead of us." He rolls his eyes in boredom.

She then brings the prince up to speed about the happenings around Squarento and the Duke of Athring, the Mark, and their suspicions of who had him captured. "What we're all curious to know, your majesty, is where were your captured? What was the last thing you remember before that black witch stuck you full of poison?"

"What possible reason could I have for satisfying your morbid curiosity?" Sneers Geodon.

Daggda can feel the veins throbbing in her temples as she prepares to bellow an appropriate response, but sees the shocked look on Veneron's face caused by her own furious expression.  Fuming, she opens and shuts her mouth without a sound.  She snatches the sack and stuffs it into her backpack.  Turning away, she mumbles, "You want to walk around without a belt or a weapon above ground, good luck to you."  As she marches off, Sandros notices she has a death grip on her footman's pick, which now has three notches in the haft...

Everyone in the group is getting pretty tired of the Prince's attitude, some of them contemplating random thoughts of tossing him over the edge of the cliff.

When they reach the top of the cliff Avon listens to the conversation between the two dwarfs.  He looks at the prince.  He feels around in his back pack, finds a water bottle and takes a few gulps from it.   After wiping his mouth he gets out a dried sausage and begins to chew on one end.  He stares at the Prince for a while.  Then snorts and spits in his general direction. "And to think I could have killed you." He takes a bite from his sausage and stares at the dwarf again.

"You know what," he continues "maybe you should just try to get back on your own.   Because first of all, I don't take no commands, especially not from your kind.  Secondly, I am not risking a painful death by the hand of some assassin for some traditional reward."  His eyes become fixated on the Prince, "You might fool this bunch of loosers here," he moves his head towards to bunch of fantasy-hippies, but as far as I am concerned you can go to hell!" After this he start packing his gear and looks anxiously at the sea.

After the moment has apparently passed, Ven leans over to Sandy and Myr who are walking nearby. "Now wouldn't it be sort of ironic if Daggda there killed the Prince herself? Of course, then we'd be off trying to capture *her* for a reward. I really don't think I'd be interested in cornering her, would you?"

Myr snickers. "That would be bloody hilarious, I think!" She puts her hands on her hips and turns up her nose in a hushed imitation of the Dwarven prince. "I'm blah-de blah, of the blah-de blah-de blah, blah-diddy blah-diddly blah blah blah! You will kiss my feet, and milk my cows, and have sex with my hamster if I deem it part of my exalted destiny. Blah blah blah...." Snorting, she turns to make sure His High and Mighty didn't hear her.

Sandros quickly steps to join Daggda, smiling wryly. Bending low as they walk, he says quietly, "Want me to bite 'im? I can bite 'im for ya..." he snickers. Noting that his light-hearted attempt is doing little good, he adds, "Seriously...ignore the arrogant little orc-dropping. I've yet to meet any nobleman who doesn't act that way, just 'cause that's how they THINK they're supposed to act." He shrugs.

Daggda's scowling faces brightens. She smiles at Sandros. "Better not. It'd just turn him into an undead pain-in-the-ass. Like to add a healthy bok to his royal head, though..." she chuckles. Then her thoughts run to the orcs left behind... Would she have much to atone for with the Battle-Forger, was it pity or cowardice that stayed her hand? She worried that the Prince might have been right...

Tavarak slides up between the two and leans in close whispering, "You know we still do have that vial of the stuff that makes him more hmmm agreeable." The bard grins and winks at the two.

Sandros grins even wider. "He'd be pretty much like one of the undead then, too!" He laughs. "But I guess Daggda's right...and undead pain- in-the-ass would be worse then what we've already got."

Hating ALL the time spent down that hole Andrew is delighted to finally make it back under the blue skies and trees that he's always known. Regretting the need to rush away Andrew's thoughts are on Skaa while they walk along, thinking maybe his hopes and good wishes will carry to the high flying bird. Even the crusty thankless prince can't take the high spirits from the elven druid today though he certainly comes close and Andrew feels for Daggda who was so hopeful and then so trod upon by the miserable excuse for royal blood.