Bless
My Soul
17/15/10,121 - Samadum
Watching the people of Samadum flee the city Tharla considered whether they had they done the right thing, many will perish in the freezing outlands, a few, maybe more, will run into the orc war band, perhaps keeping quiet would have been better. Well to late to change matters now,she thought, keep stum & hopefully everybody will get fed up & go home.
Illyra, patting the egg of a lump on her head decides a cap would be a good idea & so with Molin in tow they seek out the services of a smith, eventually a passerby is pinned against the wall & in near panic tells where a local smithy can be found. The grizzled old blacksmith greets them less than cordially; Illyra's request for the smith to modify the helm held out by Molin is met with scorn.
"I'm a smith, not a bloody tailor, you just can't nip it in here & let out the back a bit, go away, I've better things to do, anyway what does a one armed woman want with a helm, what you going to do, shake the orc's hand"
Several moments later he finds himself, assisted by Molin , nipping & tucking as required - free of charge, having suffered the indignity of Illyra's developing talent for hypnosis. By midday the helm, if not a perfect fit, is at least usable.
Returning to the Bloated Cow, Tharla is busy packing & dumping the bulk of the orcish war gear that Molin had so carefully collected, under his stare she admonishes him,
"Scrap OK, that's all they're fit for, you couldn't cut water with em', there heavy, blunt & clumsy, do I need to say more, nobody with any sense is going to pay a brass fart for any of it. Why has H got a bucket on her head ?"
Brasso, grinning at Molin's embarrassment, drags in several sacks of dried feed for the dogs & five waxed & fur lined capes,
"Thought these might be useful"
As they near readiness to depart, Kilite at long last reappears; he seems remarkably calm & a dam sight healthier than the day before. By his side is the old priest & between them they carry a number of scrolls, incense burners & church paraphernalia as well as a large trunk. Sighing, Tharla starts to load the priest's gear, filling the space of the burden she had just cleared.
Deciding it's to late in the day to leave they continue to liberate abandoned & unwanted goods, by next morning they have acquired five goats, much cheese, several more horn bull, a third goat powered buggy for the priest & copious amounts of fresh food & wine not to mention a small mountain of small denomination coinage. Tharla looks on in disbelief, as do the horn bulls who must pull the over laden wagons.
Thankfully the rising sun brings a slight improvement in the weather & the ever-growing party climb aboard & move towards the city gates. Illyra, atop the second wagon, is deep in study as she continues to memorise the phonetic translation of the Jorean regeneration scroll.
As the group pass through the near deserted streets a scream shrills across the quiet morning air, Molin urging the others onward slips from Gunter's back & quickly cuts across town, nearing the smaller of the two cities gates orc's can be seen milling around the burning gate house & several bodies swing from a crude but effective gibbet. Not waiting to see more Molin catches the slowly moving wagons & urges them to make all possible haste.
Luck is on their side as presumably the orc's are occupied with those who chose to remain, again there is sorrow in the party, their alert to the encroaching orc's should have had the citizens & militia manning the walls or organising a mass departure, not the chaos it had in reality caused. Knowing there is no more they can do they press on towards Bilsinx, assisting any refugees they can, or at least covering the dead, as they go.
By late morning the party feel slightly more at ease, no orc's have been seen, although several mutilated corpses on the trail are testament to their earlier passage. By midafternoon a shout from the priest brings the party to a halt, looking back towards Samadum spirals of black smoke smear the crisp blue sky, shaken they turn & distant themselves as much as they can before nightfall.
Notes on Kilite;
As a newly ordained acolyte Kilite will be expected to live by & spread the word of Jirre. Jirre is not however an overly demanding goddess but when the mood takes her she can be a vengeful mistress. Attributed both creation & destruction her powers are vast if not, on occasion, a trifle misdirected.
Kilite has been given a bronze pendant representing a pair of scales to light his way when ungodliness is all around him, he has also been presented with a number of scripts which contain the word of Jirre.
In addition Jirre has granted him the divine use of three spells in her name.