I
Adenon crept slowly across the rocks, carefully measuring every footstep. The smallest rock sent tumbling could easily alert the gnoll sentries on the wall to his presence above them. He stopped for a moment, resting against one of the many granite spurs sticking out of the cliff wall. He mentally retraced his at first daunting, then nigh-impossible route, from the top of the hundred foot cliff to his present shelter, through the last twenty feet of the journey to the outcropping Aran had pointed out to him. As usual two gnolls sat on the ledge, showing typical gnoll discipline. They had apparently brought some spirit with them, for both were sleeping soundly, and Adenon could smell the alcohol from his present post. They had actually propped up their armor on sticks to make it look as if they were standing at attention, attentively scanning the horizon for incoming orcish threats.
It was only a little before dawn, and the hour for the attack was nearing. Adenon uncorked the bottle Aran had given him, took a small sip, and nearly jumped off the spur that he rested on. His face contorted in near nausea, he slowly curled into a ball and clutched his stomach. After a few moments he was fine again, and he grumbled a few choice curses to himself.
"By the Gods, that stuff has kick." He muttered, and stood upright. He let the potion work its way through his veins, coursing into his mind and throbbing with every beat of his heart. Within the span of three minutes any unpleasant effects he may have suffered from the potion were completely out of his mind, replaced instead by a feeling of raw power. He knew the sensation all to well, remembering fondly the time Aran had tossed him one of these same potions, giving him the energy he needed to finish the last twenty feet of the climb out of that orcish pit he had been trapped in at the border of Senkrad Thead. With that raw mix of power and ale flowing through small frame, he knew he would have more then enough energy to finish his task.
He climbed the twenty feet down to the two gnolls in a mere minute, moving so quickly that any observers would have sworn that a man sized spider was approaching the ledge. He practically dropped the last five feet to the outcropping and landed silently, rolling with the fall and letting the heavy leather padding he had worn deaden the noise. His roll brought him to his feet, standing about seven feet behind the sleeping gnolls. He drew his dagger and approached the sleeping forms. Each was about seven feet tall, hairy, smelly, and utterly abhorrent. He quickstepped between them and turned to regard his victims.
These moments always gave him pause, for he was normally a quite man. He didn't pretend to be a man of morals or justice, as proved by his record of petty thefts back in Euman Vir, but he had always had an abiding respect for life in all of its forms, no matter how repulsive they may be. That was why he had chosen to apprentice himself to a roof thatcher instead of a butcher or fisher. He shook himself, and reminded that he couldn't let silly things like morals get in his way now. He was the lynch pin in their plan to take the gorge, and he needed to be ready. He approached the first gnoll, slowly grasped its open maw and raised its head exposing its neck. His dagger hand went to work quickly, and before the gnoll could return to an even semi-conscience state, he had opened its throat in a wide, ear-to-ear grin. The beast started to twitch, and Adenon immediately sunk his dagger deep into the back of the gnolls neck. The beasts eyes went wide and the spasms stopped. He made a mental note to thank that dwarven weapon smith for his advice about brain stems upon their return to Euman Vir, if he hadn't stopped the spasms, the other gnoll might have awakened. Then Adenon would have been in a sorry position indeed
He moved to the other beast and finished his work and took a long look around the ledge. The armor was still propped up, so the many gnolls at the bottom of the ravine would be none the wiser for his presence, and he still had a few minutes before he had to be ready. There was nothing truly useful he could garner from his position, but he did take the time to loot the corpses. Since he still had some time, he sat down in between the two suits of armor and looked around.
Dawn was just beginning to break over the far eastern horizon. A glorious display of fantastic colors that even the mage of Euman Vir could never hope to match or recreate. He stood between the suits of armor, and watched as a glorious new day slowly rose to life over the rocky knolls in the east. The sky itself seemed to sing in exaltation for the glory of a new days birthing, but for Adenon, it all was tainted with the darkness of impending death. Today a red sun rose, perfectly reflecting the blood that would soon be shed here in Strathford gorge.
The sun passed the horizon, and began it ascent to the day's zenith. As was planned, his friends had crept close to the gate during the night, but where still out of sight, and waited only for the critical distraction that Adenon would provide. He reached down, grasping at the three bottles that were snugly secured against his thighs. Those bottles had cost him and his friends a small fortune, and the gnome they had bought them from had walked off looking quite smug. He tightened the corks on each bottle, fearing for his own safety from the volatile concoctions within. He had never liked, much less trusted, gnomes.
He looked again at the sun, it was time. He carefully removed the first bottle from his leggings, took it in his hand, and remembered the careful practice he had done before he got here. He could hit any target of a reasonable size from a reasonable distance, and his practice had given him a good degree of judgment for the fall and spin of the bottles. His target, the wooden palisade in front of the gate, was of more then reasonable size, but the distance was much longer then anyone of his friends had guessed. He was high enough up, though, that he was certain he could hit his target. He removed the second and third vial, placing them on a cloth he set on the rock in front of him. He took the first again, cocked back his arm for a throw, and stopped cold.
Far out to the north, he heard the bugle of horns, many, many, many horns. He looked out to the fen, and there, emerging from their holes and shacks, was one of the many tribes of orcs that roamed the marshes to the north of Strathford gorge. They poured out of the southernmost bog like a black tide, soon to wash up and over the earthen barricade the gnolls had erected and pillage the many huts that lay beyond. The sight struck him dumb, for the orcs had to be suicidal to attack the defenses that the gnolls had erected. Any straight out assault would have the enemy attacking an entrenched enemy who had taken the high-ground, after advancing under a hail of arrows from the parapet in front of and over the gate. To make matters worse, the gnolls had two mages amongst their number, and against such a tightly packed enemy, a single fireball could result in a score dead or more. Also, after they had taken the wall, the gnolls could simply take the ladders away and trap their enemies atop the wall. The enemy, if they wanted to proceed with their suicidal plan, would have to push through a small tunnel under the wall, where they could be individually slaughtered by archers and the remaining mage or mages.
Needless to say, attacks were made only by the suicidal or the insane, either of which could be used to describe an orc driven by his shamans call. As the seemingly unstoppable wave of toughened flesh approached, Adenon began to reconsider his reasoning of the orcs chances. They had brought many ladders with them, for one. They would be able to scale the wall much faster and bring the fight to the enemy there much more quickly. They also had a rickety catapult with a handful of stones, being carried by almost five orcs each. The one thing which might swing the scales in their favor, though, was the first three ranks of this orcish horde. Almost seventy five orcs were charging across the field with full plate armor, thick, tower shields, and wide brimmed helms. Adenon seriously had his doubts as to whether the gnolls archers would prove any use against the armored behemoths now approaching them.
Adenon stayed his hand with the bottle. If he threw it now, one of the mages on the ground would find him and simply toss a fireball on his rather small ledge. Besides, with the archers out of the way, the orcs would actually stand a chance. As it was, he had no doubt that the orcish wave would be repulsed. There were simply too many gnolls behind the wall for the orcs to even hope to take the gorge, but the orcs had never seen past the barricade, and were none the wiser. What he was curious about was how far the orcish attack would reach before it finally stalled, stopped, and was routed and how many gnolls they would manage to kill before then. He sat back, resting in the shade provided by the propped up armor of the pair of dead gnolls.
The sun had reached far beyond its zenith, and Adenon's shade had disappeared. The orcish assault had yet to end by any means. By all definitions, it had stalled over an hour ago, stopped a little after that, and was slowly starting to lose ground to the well versed gnoll counter attack. By all means, the gnolls were not smart. They were, in fact, just as stupid, bloodthirsty, and easily manipulated as the orcs who attacked them. The critical difference, though, was that the gnolls had been living here for some years now, and they knew every nock and cranny that they could use for cover.
About three hours after the slaughter had started. The orcs had taken their remaining armored orcs and sent them on a suicide charge straight through the palisade guarding the tunnel into the gorge. They had broken through, and a living spearhead had followed into the now open tunnel. Now kill-squads of gnolls and orcs each roamed the bottom of the gorge, small groups trying to link up with large ones, and large ones moving to cut of and slaughter smaller groups of their enemies. The wall still held strong, and remarkably the palisade in front of the gate hadn't fallen. There were still almost a hundred orcs battling for the wall, but they stood no chance, and it was only a matter of time before they were eliminated. The rest were running around inside the gorge, slowly being hunted down and killed. All in all, it could have gone much worse for the gnolls. The orcish commander had let his warriors run lose after breaking through, instead of trying to flank the defenders of the wall. If the orcs had taken the wall, the gnolls would have lost several score more taking it back.
As it was, the battle was beginning to wind down, and Adenon settled back, once again resting, but now on the other side of the armor, still in the shade. The one thing he could not comprehend was the orcish moral not breaking and getting to watch the massive rout he had expected from the beginning. It was almost as if the orcs had a death wish, or were more fearful of something else in the marshes of their ancestral home. Perhaps trolls had moved in, or giant worms, he didn't know.
"Such things don't concern you." Adenon muttered to himself, and settled back into a more comfortable position. He would wait for night to fall, sleep some, and awaken in time for their plan to start anew tomorrow before dawn. Even as his eyelids started to flutter, that teasing smell of alcohol once again tickled his nose. He looked back at the jug, and grinned. It wouldn't hurt tomorrow's planning as long as he didn't let a headache get in the way of their planes.
A twitch, a groan, and continuous, massive throbbing brought him back to reality. He hadn't had that much of the ale, he tried to reason with himself, but the stuff was so potent that one mug full could put even one of those legendary, elderly barkeeps under for the better part of a day. A quarter of a jug, he conceded was much, much, much too much of the stuff for his small frame to be inundated with. Weighing only one hundred and sixty five pounds, Adenon was the smallest of his friends. He didn't count Viconia, whom he believed didn't really belong with the group. True, she had become a skilled mage as their travels continued, but Adenon was rather stiff in his belief that women should be left at home, and leave the fighting to the men. He had always liked her a bit though. Maybe because her shapely form gave him something to think about during the nighttime hours, but he did enjoy her company, and he often spent time talking to her, despite the omnipresent Mathias. He found that he could open up his emotions more easily to her than he could to any of his other friends, and she often had good advice to give back.
After some time, the throbbing subsided a bit, and the clear ringing of thought chimed through his head like tapping dwarven mallets upon the finest crystal. With his head finally clearing and the mist lifting from before his eyes, he awoke to his surroundings. The panic that sized his heart could nigh' have driven him mad. A single realization that shook any last cobwebs from his mind and forced him upright with tingles running up and down his now ramrod stiff spine. Too much time had passed. The moon had already passed the edge of the parapet above him, and the sun was just beginning to creep its red vines of fire over the surface of the world far to the west. What if he was too late? What if his friends on the other side of the gorge would have to wait another day simply because of his indolence and self-indulgence?
His panic was misplaced though. The time had not yet come for his friends to infiltrate the gorge, but that time was moving furiously toward them, and he needed to be ready as soon as possible.
Even as the thought crossed his mind, he realized that he already was ready. There was nothing more he could do or prepare, since he already had the three vials sitting on the cloth, practically begging him to rain the Fires of the Nine Hells down on the helpless souls before him. But as he looked at those helpless souls, he realized just how few there were. Bodies littered the canyon below, a veritable carpet of orcs and gnolls, but far more or the former that the latter. Adenon could not help but shiver at the comparison to leaves fallen from a tree. "Such vast death should never be released upon the world," he thought to himself, "It is needless, and only causes the Legions of the Nine Hells to swell faster."
With such thoughts of death running rampant through his mind, he reached out and touched the bottles, briefly fascinated by the fiery, burning death that would engulf his victims. He heard the roar of an animal in pain as one after another the bottles hit the ground, shattering, sending waves of fire washing over all those too close to his wrath. He shook that thought off, though. He was a man of higher morals, not savagery and bloodlust. He needed those morals to guide him through the coming venture, and to make sure that he didn't stray from his good path.
With death purged from his mind, and a sense of righteousness pervading his entire being, he reached out his hand and grasped the first of the bottles. He could feel his sweat pressed between his hand and its tight grip on the bottle. He mentally reviewed the plan. He was to create a distraction, destroying the palisade, with one of his two bottles, and then wait for one or both of the gnoll mages to arrive and investigate. He'd use his next bottle on them. The third bottle was for his discretion. The time had come, and with a well practiced throw, he hurled the vial into the night sky.
He couldn't follow the vial, it was much too dark, but only magical blackness could hide the resulting fireball that blossomed forth when the potion smashed into the palisade. Though it lasted only a few seconds, the extinguishing of so much life in a single instant dragged down time it self, forcing its normal clip to an anguished crawl. For Adenon, the moment held an eternity of wisdom. As he watched the blackened corpses fly every which way, twisting in strange, impossible, morbid patterns not capable by those still living, a small smile of grim satisfaction spread across his face. The death screams of a predator are seldom heard, and when they are, the species flocks to it. For them it is a call of battle, a challenge, a dare to try for vengeance. No beast, no matter how lowly, will let its pride submit to that.
Gnolls all across the valley first turned their ugly heads, then redirected their ever present rage toward the front of the canyon. As one, a huge army raced towards the mouth of Strathford Gorge, where yet another two Gateways to the Nine Hells awaited them. An army of gnollish wrath swept towards the front of the canyon, slowly at first, but faster and faster, pushing harder and harder as more forms joined the call. The came on silently, more and more and more until the floor of the valley was carpeted with them. More of the beasts began dragging themselves like the dead from the holes in the ground which lead into the mines below the gorge, Adenon and his friends true target.
Adenon let his dour grin turn into a broad smile. As more and more gnolls poured onto the valley floor, less and less stayed to guard those mines. Rich in copper, tin, and iron ore, the mines had been the reason the gnolls had originally come to Strathford Gorge almost thirty years ago. They had done so stealthily, not conducting any raids on the nearby elven communities or Euman Vir's outlying farms and provinces. They didn't even stir up trouble with the orcs only a mile or so north of them. They simply came, fortified, and settled. None of the other races knew what was happening until the wall was up, the huts were built, and the gnolls had been mining there for over two years.
At first they had used their own race as labor to draw the ores forth from the deep earth, but after fending off a large dwarf offensive and numerous orc raiding parties, they slowly became more and more aggressive themselves. They took the hills to the east of the gorge, using them to breed some form of goat which they use for food. They began sending out raiding parties of their own, taking back orcish, elven, human, even dwarven prisoners to work the mines for them. They would have the dwarves kept alive and well feed, teaching the other prisoners the techniques and tools of dwarves. They would also help refine the ores and forge better quality weapons for the gnolls to use. If they did not produce results they would have a limb removed. If they failed again, another was removed. If they failed five times, their last remaining limb, hard and bearded though it may be, was removed. It was a simple, though unpleasant, system which worked surprisingly well.
Adenon and his friends sought entrance for another reason, though. They bore just as much hatred as any living, breathing, thinking thing did for the gnolls, and they would have relished the chance to remove them from Strathford Gorge. Beneath the mines, indeed beneath all mines, beneath every inch of ground, is a massive system of unchartable caverns and fissures that stretch endlessly up, down, north, south, east, west, and out. No light ever shines there, and there reside much fouler things then orcs in the deep places of the earth. There live the Drow. Dark Elves, whose sinister nature is matched only by their cunning and hatred for their fair-skinned brothers. There reside the Duergar, pale skinned gray dwarves just as evil as the Drow. There dwell the Illithids, Mind Flayers, horrific creatures that eat the minds of those they catch. There live the Kuo-toa, a monstrous, fish-like race with hearts as black as the obsidian skin of their dark elf adversaries. There is gold, and it is as bountiful as the sea. A single corpse often had enough loot to feed a man for ten lifetimes. An entrance to this horrible, gold laden place lies somewhere within the mines, and Adenon and his friends were going to find it. Of course they had a higher purpose in venturing there, but he rarely thought of it. His mind was based around profit, and that's exactly what they were going to get.
But that was later. Adenon had more important things to think about then their plans. The first thing to do was find one or both of the mages. They were the main danger to his friends with their true sight and detections spells. His friends had snuck near the gate under cover of darkness almost a day ago now. They were hiding in a small cavern under the wall, which Adenon himself had discovered. While Aran and he had been in the town of Halflings and Gnomes just east of Euman Vir buying the oils of fiery burning, Viconia had spent her time making a quilt of sorts that would hide their cubby from prying eyes. The danger, though, was that the quilt required magic to be truly effective, and that meant a mage of any skill could detect them. One or both of the mages had to be assassinated if his friends were to have any hope of getting in to the gorge, the mines, and what lay beneath them.
As he observed the rippling, pulsating wave of flesh arrayed before him, he began to realize an irony between his size and place in this world, and the importance of the position he held in their plan. How his actions would decide the fate of so many. Thousands had slowly surrounded his small ledge, and even now were reaching the tendrils of their power out, over the protective wall that had held firm through so many offensives, it's defenders where finally about to launch an offensive of their own. He watched the gnolls go by. Scanning the crowd, watching for the distinctive red robes the gnoll mages wore. All he saw though was the tan hue of gnoll fur. He knew both mages had survived the battle with the orcs. He had seen their signature lightning bolts again and again over the day's battle. He now only had to find them.
Even as the thought raced through his mind, he saw one, then another flash of the distinctive red robes. He smiled a demon's grin. Both of them were standing atop the wall, inspiring their brothers to even greater ferocity. They stood next to each other, bellowing to kill the enemy. He took the first bottle and casually tossed it at them, his smile growing wider all the while. Even before the first had broken, the second vial was arcing through the air, its path just as perfect as the first. With a reverberating defeat that shook the rock Adenon was standing on, a hellish inferno blazed into existence. Both mages, along with quite a few other gnolls, were thrown free of their earthly shackles with devastating force, and given flight that only spirits possess.
Even as the gnoll aggression stopped, ground to a screeching halt far outside gorge, the wall which had kept them safe for so many generations gave a low, bestial rumble, and began to bleed. The hardened dirt and stones that kept it upright had been loosened by the burning oils, and had been displaced by the marching of so many feet. Dirt and gravel slowly began to pour out, burying many gnolls beneath its enormous weight. The gnolls in front of wall were trapped outside, and dared not aid their brethren suffocating beneath the torrent of rock. Those who had yet to cross the wall could do no more then those outside, but quite a few had demonstrated typical gnoll stupidity by rushing over the wall, thinking battle had been joined, and be swept away by the river or stone bleeding from their safety. Adenon's smile took in his ears. His friends could not have hoped for a better distraction. Both the mages were dead, and not one gnoll was looking towards their end of the valley. His work was done, and he slowly began his assent up the wall of the gorge.