The Horde Gathers

[Booze Hound]

Recent events have set off a chain reaction among the orcs of Cormyr.

The King's forest seems to be the seat of the gathering and orcs from throughout the kingdom have started moving through areas more boldly, making their way to the King's Forest.

Waymoot, Dhedluk, Espar, Eveningstar, and even Suzail and Immersea have been increasing their guards.

As of yet, other than a few small raids, the communities have not been affected. However, travel through the forest has become extremely dangerous, especially north of Waymoot and Dhedluk.

Drumming can be heard constantly from the numerous cave systems in the area, especially to the North of Waymoot, where fires burn and several hundred orcs have made camp at the mouth of the caves.

[Booze Hound]

//Though you may be able to travel and nothing looks different, you may also encounter VERY large numbers of VERY difficult orcs while travelling the area.

Enter the King's Forest at your own risk.

[Booze Hound]

North of Waymoot hundreds of campfires burn. Possibly thousands of orcs gather, though other than small raids make no move on the towns.

A large group of adventurers sets out from Waymoot to push them back and learn more of the reasons behind the massing Horde.

The Adventurers battle bravely, but the Horde crashes upon them like waves upon a beach, and they are forced to retreat.

Still more and more orcs flood to the King's Forest...gathering, drumming, and waiting...for something.

[Levedara]

***APPROVED BY DM BOOZEHOUND***

A Scouts Eye View

The forest was full of fire, smoke, and harsh voices. As the wind whispered and pushed leaves aside, dappled sunlight shimmered upon the wet undersides of the upturned brown detritus. Yet more moved than the leaves, and not all glimmers were the cast off of collected dew. Spans of gold broken by strips of black created an illusory figure that edged through the underbrush. It was a careful manipulation of the natural lighting to mask the sizable presence that crept dangerously close to the dire threat that had come to the forest.

Amber eyes reflective in the depth of a dark cowl watched the orcs move about from the shadow of a thick pine. She had nestled down between the tree and a natural spur of stone that rose from the forest floor to provide her with the perfect vantage. She strung together a series of vials to wire as she watched, counting, calculating. There were far to many, it seemed, for her to make a difference. Luck though, didn't often care about how things seemed, just that you tired. So Mithika was determined to try. She thought briefly of Fynn and her father back in Waymoot. The rest of the families listening to the ceaseless drums. What did it mean?

The elusive dragonkin had been plaguing the orcs ceaselessly since a brief respite to have her wing healed after the retreat. She had placed traps, from triggers that dropped burning substances from the branches above to short pits laden with wicked spines. Mithika took more risks that she should, using invisibility potions to get closer than she would have dared to sneak otherwise to lay down lines of sonic infused wires and explosive lays of acid and fire. Often the results were disappointing. The din of the camps left the mayhem of her traps minimal, unnoticed by the larger machine of war that had gathered.

She used that to her advantage though, and when the opportunity presented itself she struck with her blades, and her breath, sudden assaults on passing orc groups that rarely went without at least one orc perishing, though the Golden Lady was not always able to escape without harm herself.

Mithika had found her way back to Waymoot twice as the terribly long night passed her by, to report the scope of the horror she witnessed. Orcs from every corner of Cormyr, distant Greatgaunt, far flung Stonelands, the depths of the Hullack and the remnant forces of the Arabel Invasion, recognizable by their armor. She was even more horrified to take note of Orogs in the masses, and when she told the guard captain it wasn't without a hint of trepidation in her voice. At least she was able to report infighting, for it seemed the many tribes were not of one mind, squabbling and fighting over various things, but mostly, it seemed, they battled for the caves. Something drew them there, Mithika told the guards, drew the orcs to the caves, so greatly that they would spill blood and split skulls over the right to the front. Whatever the orcs gathered for it was within the dark stone passages. This growing army was here for whatever dwelt within, and what that was, she had no idea.

Those that couldn't force their way near the caves squabbled and fought with each other to amuse themselves, or worse, set out to raid the surroundings. She would have to make reports on those movements, and they weren't few. No one would travel through the forest safely unless they were able to move unseen, unheard, unknown. The towns of the forest were in for trying times indeed.

Sudden noise snapped Mithika from her thoughts on how her next report would be received, grunting voices and heavy steps passing close to her cramped alcove of needle and stone. Luck was showing her face once more it seemed. Without a moments pause she launched free of her shadows with a snarling growl, short blades rending orc flesh even as her wings flared to cause as much terror as possible. The orcs bellowed, two running, one freezing in spot, the fourth pinned by her blades, though the fifth, much larger reacted with unfortunate clarity. Mithika's own bellow mingled in the air as a massive hammer caught her shoulder, then with a buffeting flap, tumbled turn, and a potion, she was gone, to nurse her wounds and leave the orcs scrambling to catch her once more.

Perhaps if she kept it up they'd feel it. Maybe if she tried hard enough she could distract them, even if only a little, even if only a few. In another dark alcove as she laid down yet more traps the Golden Lady resigned herself to what was likely to be an endless tenday.

[Levedara]

***APPROVED BY DM BOOZEHOUND***

A Scouts Eye View Part II

She ran, though not as fast as she could. The thumping feet behind her made Mithika's heart pound harder than the exertion of her light sprint, but she was determined not to outpace her pursuers. Trapping around the constantly growing orc encampment had become increasingly difficult. Her presence was felt, by some at least, had taken to paying keen attention for the deadly winged presence that nipped annoyingly at the flanks. So the Golden Lady changed her tactics.

The stream came into view and she set her teeth, steeling her nerves against the disaster she knew a misstep would bring. Mithikas stride slowed, though she dared not look back. She could hear the panting growls of the orcs on her tail, their claws and blades a whispers length from her long wings that she left as tantalizing targets drifting behind herself. The five orcs that dogged her steps may have given up sooner if not for just how close their pray seemed to their clutches.

A grazing cut scraped the fine golden membrane, and she focused on keeping her footing. The stream closed, twenty feet, ten feet. Her heart skipped a beat. Mithika feared open, free flowing water. She hated cold. The stream was wide and shallow, its depth gravel and stone lined. Perfect really, for what she had in mind, even though she had cringed though her careful preparations. She had admonished herself, the best trapper in Cormyr would not be stopped by a little bit of discomfort.

Her posture lowered. A stride away. Her boot tip grazed the water, rocky uneven shore, and she lunged, her wings lifting and pushing down to loft herself over the gentle flow that cut through the forest. She gasped at another grazing cut that slipped down the membrane, splitting six inches of the fine flesh of her outer span. The orcs unaware of the doom that lurked under the distorting surface, and desperate to catch her, splashed into the waterway without hesitation.

Mithika's eyes winced shut as she hoped her contraption would function as intended. She'd never put together something quite so tricky before, and though certainly proud of her talents, she wasn't entirely given to hubris. So she hoped for a bit of luck.

Suddenly the pants of pursuit changed into squeals of pain and fright. A ringing blast rocked the stream bed and echoed through the air, the sound of spraying water and the shattering, rather out of place, tinkle of scattering shards of ice. Her course was thrown off by the grazing cut and Mithika found herself forced to brace for impact as she came face to face with a thin tree trunk. She caught herself and propelled off, allowing her momentum to spin her around, coming to a skittering, slightly off balance stop, blades drawn as she regarded the orcs.

Mithika grinned at what she saw. It had worked, perhaps not quite as intended, but the orcs weren't going anywhere, and that's what mattered. It had been a careful arrangement of thunderstones woven into a bed of coldstones and settled under the water. The result was a spray of icicles mingled in with the stunning effect of the sonic blast that heaved up the water even as it froze. Only one of the orcs had lived through the blast, gasping and shivering on the bank. Mithika, without mercy or hesitation, strode past and ended the creatures life with a short stab with her sword. She left the scene as it was, hoping that any orcs to find it would start to think twice about crossing the waters of the Kings Forest. Her only qualm was that she hadn't intended for quite so much of the riverbed itself to be displaced, stones thrown about haphazardly. With a little luck, any orcs coming to investigate would stub their toes.

She found her way to the road, taking a careful moment to peruse her surroundings and decided it was time to return to Waymoot. Mithika had a report to make, though it was not one she looked forward to.

When she arrived, her garb stained, wings bloodied, she took a moment to clean off. Mithika was loathe to appear her worst, lest she seem just as frightening as the foes that loomed so near. Then the Golden Lady went to tell the guard a frightening truth.

"The numbers, well, if I said there was a thousand, I'd feel like I was guessing shy. They keep coming. They fight, though, and that might have been a good thing, but the reason, well I'm not so sure.

They don't have a leader, as far as I can tell. None at all. Just whatever it is in that cave, whatever's got them drumming.

When that's done, I'm afraid we'll have an uncontrolled storm on our hands, really. Or worse, if whatever's in there gets control of them all? I don't know what we'll do."

[Booze Hound]

//Sorry I wasn't around to advance this the past couple of days. I have been on the road doing beer sales, and the internet in my hotel has been down until now, 12:30am on my last night here. Bummer.

Anyway, I am still running with this, I had hoped to bring it to a climax the past couple of days, but couldn't.

I will try to wrap it up soon, thanks for those who have been involved!

[Booze Hound]

The Horde grew, more than a thousand orcs gathered outside the caves. The chanting and drumming grew, and grew and grew...

Then all was silent...

And then all hell broke loose.

Something erupted in the caves and the orcs screamed in terror and panic. Hundreds and hundreds died as they tried to escape. The adventurers struggled against the screaming tide and made their way into the flaming caves.

Fire drove the orcs out and the heroes pushed on, more and more orcs tried to flee cutting down friend and foe alike. Sounds of screams and roars of anger could be heard.


Finally the heroes reached the main chamber and found a ritual gone terrible wrong. A creature, an abomination of orc and demon flesh rampaged in the cave. It tore orcs, trolls, and adventurers asunder in it's mad rage.

Finally the heroes mustered what was left of their strength and threw their all against the terrible creature, and when all hope seemed lost, victory was snatched from the hellish maw of defeat.

The Horde scattered, the foul beast defeated, and the King's Forest slowly returned to the usually dangerous place that it always is.


//Thanks for those that attended, the DMs that helped, Hawk and Savoire Faire (I think I misspelled that)

You guys rock!

[lowstorm]