Home > Campaigns > Book 4, Chapter 11 - The Strength of Hatred
The Strength of Hatred
Although it was becoming dark, we could see that there was a tent in the center of the orc camp that was much larger than the others. Many of the trees in the area had been chopped down, undoubtedly for the nearly twenty campfires. As the sunlight faded further, my infravision could tell there were approximately 3-4 orcs per fire.
Mical paced to and fro, anxious for orc blood. After muttering of his hatred for the foul race for a while, he finally lay down and allowed the rest of us to sleep. A fresh start in the morning would give me an opportunity to memorize a couple 'sleep' spells, and we all needed the rest.
Morning came, bringing resignation for three of us, and excitement for Mical. We could now see that the road was blocked at both ends of the camp, and heard the signal whistles of orcish patrols occasionally. We all decided to observe them for a time. Mical even agreed that it was good to know one's enemy.
Much of the activity was centered around the huge tent, and an abnormally large orc sometimes came out and shouted at the others. Once, five of them dragged a non-orc out of the tent, then back in. We had a sinking feeling as we realized that we had an obligation to help that person if possible. This excursion had become more than just Mical's revenge or getting around an obstacle in the road. Besides, it was possible that the humanoid was one of the elven mages we sought.
I decided to see if I could get the staff to help us in some way. I tried concentrating on casting chain lightning, but suddenly the weapons Lagasse and Mical were holding began to glow. A big bag we had taken from the earlier battle to carry the other loot glowed too, as did a shield. I was detecting magic with the diamond staff! I then tried to fly, but nothing happened. Next, I tried to identify my small book, but suddenly felt like I was going to vomit. I could barely move for the next five hours. Everyone was irritated, but we hadn't planned on doing anything that day anyway. At least we knew the staff could do something.
In the afternoon, a group of ten, well-disciplined orcs marched toward us on the road. We hid behind some boulders, but the wind was blowing from behind us. The orcs stopped, sniffing the air. Five went to each side and they all crept closer to us. We were terrified that they would raise the alarm if they had a chance, so we had to win, quickly.
Mical and Lyra managed to cast 'hold person' on three of them as Lagasse and I silently moved closer. Lagasse shot the leader, but didn't kill him. It and the other orcs ran as we rained arrows on them. Lyra cast 'heat metal' on a few of them, who immediately began trying to strip off their armor as they ran.
Several of them turned back to fight. I decided not to cast sleep, since I felt we would be able to dispatch them quickly. Mical killed a couple with great gusto. Lagasse shot the leader and one of the others while Lyra fought off two who had managed to remove their burning armor. She decapitated one with a smooth swipe of her blade. She and Lagasse killed the remaining orcs while Mical tied up one of the 'held' ones. I moved the bodies to a less obvious location. Each carried a whistle that luckily they didn't use.
Mical interrogated the captive orc. In orcish, he asked, "Who is the prisoner?" The orc mumbled, "None of your business, meatsack." Lyra and I looked at each other, then told Lagasse what had been said. We all tensed as Mical pulled out his dagger. He placed the tip against the orc's neck and repeated the question. The orc shook its head, and blood began to drip from the blade. The orc jumped, shouting, "More than one! There is more than one! They are elves. We were told to watch for a group of elves and a group of elves with a human."
Mical sliced the dagger across the orc's arm and let it bleed. When we asked him what he was doing, he said he wanted to let it die slowly. We were torn between disliking torture and knowing that if we let the orc go it would betray us. We asked him to just kill it quickly so it wouldn't suffer too much. He didn't answer.
After a while, he asked it if it was hungry. It nodded vigorously, looking hopeful. He gave it some dry rations, which it spit out. "This isn't food!" Rage crossed Mical's face, and he cut off a piece of dead orc, which it ate with enjoyment. Mical then looked disgusted, as did we all. He went behind the orc and stabbed his dagger through its skull. We jumped at the suddenness of it. I was glad that the orc didn't suffer anymore, but I saw a side of Mical that surprised me today. There must be some terrible story in his background. I would not want to be on his bad side.
