Porthca Landing II: Lost & Found

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"I'm doing okay. Still waiting on this dumb egg to hatch, but I guess you can't rush nature, huh?" Truth be told, the egg was far from the first thing on Virra's mind, but she figured it was a topic of conversation Niradnam might like. The stupid, weirdly likeable nerd.

Her concentration took another knock as the term "brick shithouse" came up, provoking another glare from her, though less vitriolic than the one she'd given Banrigg. Magnolia was hard to stay angry at. The conversation about where to head after dealing with the Sea was at least compelling enough to get her attention again, though it didn't help her draw any conclusions. "Azarad doesn't really appeal to me," she says with a shrug. "You guys know how I feel about spending all day in a library. Plus, won't it be full of people like you-know-who?" It felt safer than saying Rowanne.

Eliza's problem, on the other hand... "I don't get any news from home," she said quickly. "Think I must've said that at some point. But if it's your parents we're looking for... that I can help with." Provided they weren't on another plane, of course, but she was prepared to assume that Lestone had been a fluke. Wherever they were, she just had to hope it wasn't anywhere near Chilldrift.
 
Ander awoke to a small pig rooting around in his beard for a scrap of food he had left there the night before. The man squinted at the light and he realised that he hasn't risen before the sun for his daily prayers. He got up as quickly as he could so he could at least do the abridged version of his daily routine, but before he kneels down, he reaches in his pouch to ensure that the pearl is still with him.

His morning prayers go normally and he joins the others in the middle of their conversation. He sits down quietly and listens to talk of parents and schools, things Ander knows nothing about. He looks across the group to Valerie and gives her a quiet nod with a slight smile. He was still upset, but the night had given him time to think about what it might be like to be unable to control yourself, and that made him feel pity for his young friend. She's just a kid who's in over her head, possibly more than I am.

He sits and eats his breakfast, ready to protect his friends and the pearl as they finished this leg of their journey. He had given his word.
 
Morning of the Eighteenth Day | On the Road to Wyford | Camp:

Rowanne seemed to pay more attention as the conversation changed to deities, commenting, "Athena is the goddess who guides me, and her domains are both war, knowledge, and order. If you want knowledge, it will take discipline to gain it, and at times you may need to fight for it." Placing her weapon away she stood to begin clearing up the camp, "If you truly wish to stand against it, it'll take effort from yourself as well."

Banrigg chuckled, "Just yer way of sayin' not t'let it walk all over'er ain't it. Can't say nothin' straight forward if it might be nice, eh?" Pushing himself to his small stature he began cleaning up, "Either way, we still got distance ta' cover if we wanna get back t'Wyford anytime soon. Up ya get."

Off to the side Niradnam smiled, patting the dark tone egg next to him, replying to the Gnome, "You can't, no -- but I think with everything else, it's alright that these are taking their time. Hopefully they still will, but time will have to tell."

Taking some time to get everyone gathered up and things packed away, the party began once more on their route, crossing fields and plains only a few days ago they had traveled prior. The sky seems clear, only a few clouds here and there dotting the blue expanse, though Niradnam makes a point of not looking outside the covered wagon if he can help it, content to make notes in his journal or doze in the wagon, cat and wyvern egg in his lap. Rowanne walks next to the wagon, eyes always watching for dangers while Banrigg steers the horses, giving encouraging clicks of the tongue here and there if they shy at something in the grass.

Asked by Eliza for the crystal ball, the scholar offered it, sitting with the half-orc as she used it once more, this time focusing on her old home, with the first floor the shop of her parents. Prepared for the shift in perspective, it's not nearly as intimidating, however she can't entirely prevent flinching once the mountains come into view, phasing through them as her vision races towards a familiar home on streets the half-orc hasn't seen in years. After a mental blink, she finds herself in the shop, a faint layer of dust has begun to settle on things, and as her vision circles, looking around, she sees a sign written in common, dwarvish and gnomish reading: "Unfortunate circumstances. Closed until further notice." -- typical for the way anyone from Chilldrift would discuss something, be it from death in the family, or merely an ill stomach. Faintly before the vision pulls away, outside the half-orc can hear a street crier in Dwarvish: "Tunnel collapses! Military working to protect trapped citizens! Requesting additional enlistment and spare equip..." the voice cuts out as the spell fades.

Time passes, the sun moves and shadows shorten and stretch, however a few in the party keep hearing something ... a strange thud, rhythmic, through the ground almost. Inside the wagon Niradnam's eyes are open, but his expression shows he's trying to figure out what it could be. The sound gets louder, growing in intensity, eventually shapes on the horizon become visible -- creatures that even from a distance look quite big, and smaller ones trailing behind them, the occasional glint off of armor. A formation seems put together, the large creatures surrounding the smaller. Niradnam muttered towards Egnaro, "I wish you were a bird ..." as he squinted in the bright light towards the figures.

Banrigg slowed the wagon down, seeing as the group's path and the strange procession would cross. He muttered to the group, "I don't like th' look of that -- any of it. An armored group like that, wanderin' around here -- we're not far from Llanda I think, an that looks where they're headin' off to, if my directions are right."
 
Eliza had been lying on her back in the cart replaying the scryed scenes from the tunnel and her house over and over again trying to figure out anything new.

How had her parents gotten stuck there in the first place? How long had they been stuck there?

She craned her neck out out the cart to check out the commotion. She covered her eyes from the glare of the sun and squinted her eyes trying to make out the figures in the distance. She was almost sure that the bigger figures were ogres but- it couldn’t be!

She gasped in fear and ducked down her head out of sight. <“Shit!Shit!Shit!”> Eliza muttered in Dwarvish. “Orc army! An orc army is ahead of us!”
 
"Orcs?" Mags jammed her head out of the wagon.
What in Yondalla's name is going... Her eyes fell on the one thing that made her blood boil... A woman in chains...

"They have a woman prisoner... We need to save her." Grabbing her javelin and shield she lept from the wagon making a b-line for the orcs.
 
Virra rocked with the motions of the wagon, sat cross-legged at the back among the eggs and luggage. While her body was motionless, her mind was far afield in the realm of the noosphere. This was only her time seeking out a creature other than for practice, but this time she had a clearer mental image to work with: Mr and Mrs Carabelli, who'd always forgiven her impatience and odd demands whenever she came to their store on an errand. Good people -- good parents, probably. She searched for their smiling faces, their clever hands, their generous hearts. Time slipped away, and her mind wandered to a particular part of the world...

She was quickly brought out of her trance by rapid-fire swearing, from an unexpected source. She grimaced. "Oh, nice one, Eliza, that's real helpful when I'm trying to --" she began, but the phrase "orc army" was enough to refocus her mind. She quickly leaned her head out of the wagon just as the half-orc had, and breathed in a slow gasp. "No kidding. Orcs, ogres... what's that they're standing around?" And what did they want? Were they out to sack Llanda, like Banrigg implied?

Whatever the case, before Virra could suggest getting closer, Mags was already on her way. "Right behind you!" she called, grabbing Glimmer and vaulting over the side of the wagon. With the numbers she'd seen, she was confident in beating a few dumb orcs and their ogre friends -- she could only hope there weren't any more of the brutes hiding off in the brush somewhere.
 
Hearing the others mention there was a prisoner and an armed group, Tyrius hopped down off the wagon, leaving Bookwyrm with the relative safety of the horses. Trying to get a good look, Tyrius could see the Orcs that Eliza had mentioned and as he did so, he felt a now very familiar rush of energy flowing through his body. It was getting to the point where he could sense whether the surge was to be a benefit to him or not. With this surge, he felt slightly faster. Not in terms of agility but as if the magic that flowed through him would flow just that tiny bit faster. Summoning the magic of a very familiar spell, Tyrius took off running as Mags did, though he was heading in a slightly different direction.

Tyrius had no plan in mind. He knew he wanted to be somewhere he would be hard to spot, but with enough space that he could cast and far enough away that any enemy coming towards him would need to travel a fair distance first. Sprinting, Tyrius moved almost in a crouch, trying to use the fact that he was using his enhanced speed to make the Orcs think that he was an animal moving through the trees and bushes. Finding an easy tree, Tyrius scaled up onto the first branch he thought could support his weight and waited. What he was waiting for the sorcerer couldn't be certain of. With the noise the rest of the group was making, Tyrius doubted that the Orcs would be so dumb as to continue their patrol. Tyrius breathed slowly, readying himself to throw all he had at the Orcs while keeping their prisoner alive.
 
Hearing Eliza’s warning, Valerie jolted to attention, her magical longbow forming in her hands. She couldn’t make much out from this distance as she prepared for battle with her usual armor of salt, but as Magnolia mentioned the prisoner, her eyes narrowed. “They will not for long.” Her form shifted, her skin paling horns sprouting from her head and leathery bat-like wings unfurling from her back, with a small tail twitching behind her. Her white eyes glared at the monsters. “I will do my best from above. Protect her!” Her wings beat powerfully and Valerie took to the skies, firing off two powerful, lightning infused shots at the lead ogre. No one should ever be in chains!
 
Ander is furious the moment he is told that there appears to be a woman in chains being dragged along by the Ogres. He is not subtle as he rushes forward toward the slavers. The first Ogre is in his face quickly, getting slashed and set on fire quickly and before Ander has a chance to hit him again, he is down. He keeps moving toward the woman as he grows angrier and angrier. The next large creature is quickly slashed and set on fire once, too.

Ander notices that the Orogs are retreating, which he would normally allow, if they weren't heading toward the woman who... oddly seems to be helping them... He shakes his head and says to himself, she must be used to the monsters dominating in fights, so she is trying to protect herself from punishment. His anger clouds his vision as he keeps moving forward and calls to one of the Orogs, "Come, face me!" His spell doesn't seem to take hold, but he is quick to cut off the next beast as he continues to try to save the woman. Is she... do I know her? One of the remaining Orogs grabs the woman, and Ander slashes down into the beast beside him, yelling angrily "Stop them!" to the rest of his team. The final creature falls and Ander makes his way to the woman in chains... he sees... a familiar face... and...
 
She never stopped moving forward, never stopped running.
you know if we were a bit taller we could run faster... Shut up brain, it's righteous fury time!

Uncaring if her friends were beside her or not the righteous fury had her. She headed no danger and let nothing stop her. Yondalla at her side, not one of their foes could touch her.

It seemed Val made quick work them from the skies, and the carpet used as a battle platform was interesting.
she better not rip my sleeping bag! Gah! Focus!

the last for fell and Magnolia closed the distance to the woman in chains... Chains all to familiar to her... chains from home...

"Hi! I'm Magnolia, and I'm here to rescue you. Give me a minute and we'll see what we can do about these chains... Don't happen to know the command word do you?"
 
Virra's battle plan was simple: give Glimmer a true test run by shooting down all of the dumb brutes before they hurt her friends. All through the running battle, however, she felt like she was fighting against the beautiful shortbow; even easy targets like the barn-door-sized ogres felt like distant bullseyes whenever she pulled back the drawstring.

After one good hit and several wasted arrows, she started to grow impatient. "Glimmer, I will take you to a jewellery store," she growled after a lightning-powered shot went sailing into the brush. The next one found its mark, and bit deep -- but the next ones didn't. "Jewellery store," she tried again, and struck a log. "A nice bonfire," she ventured, and clipped a pigeon out of the air. "Pretty, pretty matchwood," she snarled, and finally landed her second shot of the battle. All the while, she was chasing the orogs and their captive across the open fields and becoming very conscious of how short her legs were compared to everyone else's. How shallow her lungs were, too.

"Driftwood... back-scratcher... privy-unblocker," she panted, stumbling on and firing wildly until the last enemy was felled. Then she finally came to a stop, bent double with her hands on her knees. Once she'd recovered enough to feel sufficiently angry, she threw the priceless shortbow to the ground and went marching up to the chained woman.

As she approached, little bits of knowledge that had come to her during the battle finally rose to the forefround of her mind. Manacles. Dampening. Grim-faced, she stepped up to the woman's side. "They were using those chains to control your magic, right? " she said. "I saw how it was hurting you... bunch of know-nothing bullies. Let's get you out of those." She slung her bag down and went to retrieve the "special" tools she'd picked up in Wyford. "I don't know about this command word business, but I bet these will do in a pinch." With lockpicks in hand, she paused briefly to glance up at the woman. "Oh, I'm Virra, by the way. You've met Mags. Hey, is there a keyhole for these things...?"
 
Valerie’s borrowed wings beat furiously to keep her aloft as the pale tiefling darted through the air. She pointed at an ogre and salt began to crust on its form before she let loose another volley of arrows. Her eyes widened in surprise, however, as the woman that they were attempting to help reached over and healed its wounds.

The warlock had little time to take that in, however, as a volley of javelins from below sailed towards her, most of them missing, but one of them hitting her square in the chest. It exploded into salt, but Valerie grimaces as she felt her magical protections fail her. She fired another volley of arrows at the monstrous creatures, each one meeting its mark with a cacophony of lightning and nearly obliterating the man-like thing holding the woman’s chains.

Over the chaos, Valerie pleaded with the woman. “Please, we are trying to help you! Run! “ Magical bolts from Eliza finished off her captor, and the winged warrior watched as the prisoner turned to look at her... and let out a small gasp of pain as a bolt of light struck her in the chest. Staring down at the injury in shock, Valerie felt a rush of anger and pulled back the arrow, leveling it towards the woman as a familiar voice echoed in her mind. A Rhitegast is no fool. For a traitor, there must be no second chances. At the last moment, however, a smaller voice fought through to the surface of her mind. They spared you... Her aim shifted slightly just as she loosed her shot, catching the ogre behind the woman in the arm as another arrow quickly sprouted from its forehead. I do not know what this is, but she must be the victim. She must be doing this against her will.

It was in that moment that Valerie resolved herself. She would free the ogre’s captive, or die trying. As if in answer to her decision, the ogre grabbed the woman and took off at a dead sprint. Angrily, Valerie’s aching wings beat forward as she called out. “You will not have her!” Twin arrows arched out, catching the ogre in the back of the neck with a roar of thunder and sending it toppling to the ground in a charred heap. She barely had a moment to celebrate, however, as another of the smaller creatures quickly snatched her up. It earned an arrow straight through its back for it’s trouble but still managed to stay standing, with more orogs following to continue in their efforts to steal the woman.

The normally eager and polite girl’s temper flared once more as she saw the creature’s fervent intent to maintain their possession of the poor woman, and at Ander’s command, her vision went red. She rained shot after shot of destruction onto the their foes, and when only one remained in any shape to fight, she called out to it. “I can keep doing this all day! Leave now, or die screaming like the rest!” She did not understand what ‘hork snork kulock’ meant in common, but the monster certainly understood the final arrow that stopped it dead in it’s tracks.

Breathing heavily, Valerie descended to the ground and closed her eyes, her form returning back to normal. The anger faded as quickly as it came, leaving the girl a little confused. She dropped her bow to the ground where it shattered into grains of salt that returned into her ring and approached the rescued prisoner, stopping a few feet behind the stunned paladin, not wanting to get in the way of whatever it was that was occurring.
 
Seeing the fight start a good distance from his position in the trees, Tyrius could see the woman in chains being dragged along and felt sick to his stomach. Hopping out of the tree, Tyrius dashed a fair way towards them and fired off Shatter followed by a quick bolt of fire, aiming to catch his intended targets at the edges of his spell so as not to put the prisoner or his friends in the line of fire. As the spell went off, it was as if every ogre and orc face turned towards him and Tyrius realised his mistake. He'd run off ahead to try and make sure he had room to try and slow the enemy - only to leave himself a fair distance away from his friends and a lot closer to the enemy than was healthy. Two of which promptly broke formation to reinforce the lesson with their clubs. Seeing a barrier materialise as they ran into it and Niradnam's voice in his mind, Tyrius backed away, firing off another Shatter spell and fire combo and hoping that was a tactic that would work - back towards his friends and firing spells.

As it was, the barrier was not an infinite wall and a few of the ogres and orcs soon found their way around the wall and straight into Tyrius' space. Firing off another Shatter spell and fire bolt as he felt his magic drain a little, enough that he had energy for one more Shatter before he'd need time to recover, Tyrius froze up as he saw the ogre up close. Within seconds, that mistake led to a club being swung over his head and Tyrius blacking out.

"Bein' that trusting is likely to getcha killed one of these days lad, an that's not a day I look forward to," Baldrus' voice echoed in Tyrius' mind. Tyrius wondered if he was dying until his vision cleared up within a second and he found himself staring up at Ander. Getting to his feet, Tyrius saw a small number of Orcs around Rowanne and angled his last Shatter spell to catch the Orcs but keep Rowanne out of the magic. Spending the rest of the fight firing bolts of fire at whatever looked like an enemy, Tyrius was still getting used to how the staff amplified his magic when it came to fire. Soon enough, the Orcs were down and they were left with a prisoner standing in a field.

"It's okay, we're here to help," said Tyrius as Virra tried to look to pick the lock open, "Can you tell us your name?"
 
Eliza was quite content with letting the orc army pass by unchallenged so she lay down as quiet as a Faust-up-to-no-good and prayed they didn’t notice the cart. All her hopers were dashed as the halfling leapt out of the cart and simply charged at the monsters with a fierce battle cry.

She peeked out of the cart again as member after member of their group rushed into battle trying to free a woman from their chains. She sighed and began unfurling the carpet out on the cart floor. At least she didn’t have to run in all that muck, she thought trying to stay positive.

Now getting quite familiar with stirring the magic carpet, Eliza weaved up and down at a breakneck speed that she was beginning to enjoy. <“Shit!”> She yelped as she turned around too quickly and almost fell off the flying menace. She righted herself with shove just in time to see Tyrius being swarmed by the orcs. She was thankful for the robe as she ripped out and flung star after star at the hideously solid beasts, “Why don’t you die already!”

Seeing the orcs start to flee with the prisoner she pushed ahead throughly vexed now. She followed them planning on ending their ungodly existence but was stopped short by the woman’s reaction.

Why is she healing them? is she with them? Is she controlling them?!

Eliza tapped her forehead with her wand and felt the mind link open between her and the mad woman. She felt her mind probes being shoved out unceremoniously by the unreasonable woman and huffed annoyed. She zapped the remaining orcs and helped put them down but stayed in the air and out of reach of the lunatic as the others rushed to her side.

“Who are you? How did you end up here?” The half-orc yelled down to the woman.
 
Afternoon of the Eighteenth Day | On the Road to Wyford:

The group heading off to challenge the orcs, Banrigg swore in dwarvish as he lept off the wagon, maul at the ready. He had been paid to protect this group, even if it meant protecting them from fights they decided to take part in. Rowanne started a jog towards the passing squad as well, seeing the larger enemies she retrieved her greatsword this time while Niradnam worked to untangle himself from everything in the wagon. Hopping down while situating his rapier on his hip he called out to Egnaro behind him, "Keep an eye on the wagon!"

The strikes of Valerie were easy to pick out with each crash of lightning across the sky, echoed by the bursts of lightning around Banrigg as his rage overtook him, sparking out at the enemies in range as he swung his maul, connecting with decent blows but at the same time opening him up to devastating attacks in turn. Rowanne tried to aid, but unfortunately her large weapon rarely seemed to make its mark, only hitting a few times here and there, her spiritual Spear managing about the same with the enemies' armor. As usual Niradnam tried to help bolster the frontline fighters, trying to keep in range of people if he needed to help somewhere, squinting in the bright sunlight and trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

At the back, while the orogs and ogres charged into the group, one of each stayed with the woman, her dazed eyes not focusing on anything as she merely stood there, wincing the few times her spells were called forth. When the tide seemed to turn, the orogs attempted to make a retreat, only to be chased and cut down -- one knocked out and sat upon by Banrigg, and Niradnam attempted to keep one in place only for it to break out of his hold. Once they realized their end was due one way or the other, the last two decided to die fighting, abandoning the woman who by this point was laying prone on the ground, lethargic and limp. Soon finished off, while the others went to the woman, Banrigg sat on the unconscious orc, wheezing and bleeding. Niradnam placed a hand on his shoulder, some of the wounds stitching themselves closed while Banrigg tried to catch his breath. When Rowanne stepped up he asked her for rope from the wagon -- with a nod she started jogging back towards the wagon, gathering the horses to bring it closer.

Seeing that was being dealt with, Niradnam wandered his way over to the others, offering, "Anyone hurt? I can still heal a little before I'm entirely worn out for the day ..."

Virra looking over the chains and bracers would find there doesn't seem to be any locks anywhere, not even breaks in the metal, like they had been forged around the woman's neck and hands. At being addressed the woman merely lay there, her eyes half-closed, scrapes and cuts across her skin from being dropped by the various foes. Her eyes seemed to gaze far off into the distance, not on anything specific. Kneeling down the scholar started checking her over, "She's alive, but weak ... probably only fed the minimum, and poorly at that ..." He did his motion for "message", only to fall over from kneeling, raising a hand to his head as his eyes struggled to focus, "I ... don't ... suggest..." he blinked a few times, "I don't think she's able to respond to anything currently ... maybe from the chains? I don't know." Niradnam sat flat on the ground, rubbing his brow, "It ... just a droning sound ... constant ..." Frowning, "Hard to think ..."

Off to the side Banrigg started dragging over the tied up captive, still unconscious with Rowanne leading the horses. "What's with the lass? She okay?" he asked, not seeming to struggle with the captive, but still winded from his injuries.

Rowanne studied the woman before looking at the orc, "Perhaps we'll find out more from him?"
 
A look of recognition come across Ander's face and he drops his axe before stepping over to the downed woman. He sat on the ground and held her head against his chest. He quietly whispers "Oh, Sister Sybeth, what've they done to you?"

He lowers is head and, without looking up, asks Magnolia, "Could I break them? We need to get these off of her. Tell me what to do, please," he looks up on those final words and a world of pain is painted on his face. The huge man trembles as he holds the woman in the most protective way he can.

He pulls the small wooden holy symbol off from around his neck and places it on the Sybeth's heart as he begins quietly praying.
 
Valerie’s heart broke as she saw her friend in such emotional pain. She wanted desperately to help comfort him, but after what she had done to him the night before, she knew that her presence could do nothing but make things worse. There is another option to help. The girl’s expression turned cold, and she turned away from the scene, striding over to the unconscious orc. She looked over to Rowanne and spoke in a cold tone. “Can you wake it?”
 
Seeing the state Ander was in, Tyrius sighed a little, glad there was a little clearer answer as to what was going on. Looking to the unconscious Orog, Tyrius closed his eyes and willed himself to resume the shape of a red dragonborn. Opening his eyes and seeing his snout extending from his face, Tyrius walked over and stood so that the first thing the Orog would see on waking up was Tyrius' eyes staring at him.

"If you can wake him, that would be good." said Tyrius, "I'll back you up." he added, picking up on Valerie's expression and body language as he fumbled around for his strip of wire. 'He can either play nice and answer her questions, or I am going to read every horrible book I can remember right into his skull until he does.'
 
"right! Five million introductions later... Alright everyone stop screwing with the shackles, they are the same kind they use back home to control spellcasters. You smash them, the force goes to the captive. Their are no locks, the only thing that opens them is the command word. And hopefully..."

Standing next to Tyrius, she pulls the orcs unconscious head up. Slap! "He feels helpful today."

Mags has an anger about her, non of young seen before. Her happy go lucky demeanor has change to one of righteousness.

"Search the other bodies, they have been dumb enough to write it down." Her gaze doesn't waver from the orc in front of her.
 
Eliza felt horrible and kind of stupid after she heard what Mags said about the shackles. Of Course she wasn’t with the orcs. Poor thing, they were messing with her magic!

She definitely couldn’t bear seeing Ander breakdown like that. She followed Val flying down and settling nearby the orc being deservedly slapped by Mags. The half-orc felt her blood fuming at she harshly tapped her wand to her forehead again and focused on the orc. She didn’t think these brutes were capable of any deep thought so she didn’t even bother digging deeper. All she needed would be on their surface thoughts.
 
Afternoon of the Eighteenth Day | On the Road to Wyford:

Rowanne blinked for a moment at Valerie's tone before nodding, "Yes, if I heal him, he should wake sooner." Grasping her holy symbol for a moment she spoke a single word, the most severe of the injuries the orc had sealed up, his breathing becoming less ragged.

At Magnolia's slap, his eyes flickered open, an expression of confusion before he remembered where he was and started growling in a low guttural language. In the universal language of the mind, Eliza caught bits and pieces along the lines of "How dare they not finish me in combat! Disgraceful! Tiny pests!"

Off to the side, Niradnam sat next to Ander and the woman, mumbling to himself, but seemed to latch onto the phrase "command word", "Huh ... command ... word ..." he stared at the flying carpet and muttered, "Fovere Cimex," causing the rug with Eliza on it to spin and face the dazed scholar.

Tyrius digging through the pockets of the bodies finds hardly anything beyond rough rations and empty packs -- likely expected to haul things on their return if they were truly headed to the village.
 
Intent on the creature before her, Valerie glared at it as it woke. “Good, you are alive. You cannot die yet, there are still things that we require of you.” Her hand went to the rapier by her side and she drew the blade, eyeing over it’s sharp edge as she spoke. “I must confess, this will be my first time conducting torture. Normally, I would suspect you think that means I will be too easy for you... but I will remind you that I have no less than four healers in my company.” Quick as a flash, the blade pressed into the creature’s chest, drawing blood. “That means there is ample room for error. Tell us how to free this woman and you may die a warriors death, else...” She paused, glancing the specimen over. “What is it that your people think of a warrior lacking arms? Or perhaps a leg or two... or something more fragile. I will make certain you live to know the shame.”
 
Eliza barely held on to the carpet edges and glared at the dark elf, “I am in the middle of the something!” She flew down again and hopped off the carpet this time preferring the sold ground under feet not threatening to topple her over and turned around to face the orc again trying to skim his thoughts.

She covered her mouth with a hand and sent a message to Val, “Ask him what the code word for the chains are. Keep asking him till he can’t not think about it.”
 
Seeing the creature’s stoic expression and hearing from Eliza that it was not responding to the threat, Valerie’s eyes narrowed. “Not listening? Perhaps I should get your attention, then.” Their captive’s right side then began to wither faintly and crust over with salt, before the warlock quickly withdrew the blade and stabbed it straight through it’s hand. Valerie felt a rush of power travel through the blade and back into her, the feeling as exhilarating as it was unsettling. She withdrew her weapon from the creature and wiped off the blade on it’s clothes before speaking. “Would someone please heal him? I was not yet finished with my questions.”
 
Tyrius used the fact the Orc was unconscious to whisper to Valerie, "Maybe don't kill him next time? I've a way we can annoy the fuck out of him in a way he cannot stop. Say the word and I'll use it." said the sorcerer, slightly unnerved by how calm Valerie was just stabbing a living being who couldn't possibly fight back.
 
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