Governor Nighthill paid no mind to Ramando's approach, but were taken off-guard when they relayed to him that he would like to join in the search as well. "I do not see a problem if it is fine with the rest of the people and you are willing", he replied without taking more than a glance at the arriving monk. The dragon roared in the skies above, climbing higher in a spiralling pattern and thus required the governors attention... last time it did this it ended up making a strafing run across the battlements and if it was to do it again he would need to be giving orders.

"Thank you, sir," the large man said plainly. His voice held no excitement or nervousness. It was void of any hint of courage or fear. He just bowed his head quickly to the Governor.

He didn't introduce himself to the others since they would have time to meet later, not that he was well-equipped for proper greetings. The half-orc, however, demanded one, though not-so-proper. "Brother Brightwood," he growled as gently as he could. His tone held command, but not unto others but, rather, himself. He performed a shallow bow that showed itself as a nod of the head. "Yes," he added to properly answer Orchid.

He then turned away to retreat back into the Keep. It may have seemed inconsiderate, but he needed to let his brothers know that he would be going back out and searching for Master Leosin, if unofficially.

Brannor loathed within himself the notion of being spied upon, a deeply rooted instinct not lacking in man or beast. He took in it for what fortune it provided, that they had another sword - or rather hand it seemed - pledged to them. Either the man's simple trappings were a disguise or he was just as he appeared. One way or another, mattering little to the objective's ends, his demeanor and sense of apparent honor suggested he was some sort of mystic or even a scholar, albeit one unaccustomed to this place. Brannor was not one to speak about that matter as he himself had not the faintest as to what protocol was to be used here.

If they wished a sword of the wild world's pledge against these foul creatures, they had it. A mutual enemy and a friend in the darkness was better than being alone and facing a far worse battle owing to it.

"Good." The warrior remarked, hearing the man and Orchid converse.

Having nothing else to add, his stare shared itself briefly with the governor and provided a nod, dismissing himself entirely this time and pausing no further as he passed by Hurrik. This "Brightwood" however, owing to some sort of temple or enclave it seemed by title, disappeared as well just as quickly as he had invited himself to the meeting; Orchid had too, but in what seemed ever eager anticipation for battle to come.

Moving into the keep, he sought out much needed food...

Hunger was an unwise enemy to battle.

@Phoenix@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher

The keep, while stocked of injured or panicking people, provided just the shelter the adventurers needed before setting back into the combat. Food was provided from the kitchen as soon as they recognised the person who was asking to be a part of the new saviour squad and even Ramando who was not a part of the original plan would get their share were they to request it. An hour passed as quietly as it was possible with the people never ceasing to shuffle around the keep. They did their best to not bother the adventurers, their only hope to see those who were left outside of the keep ever again.

To Orchid's disappointment when he finally got to meet the castellan it turned out that they were, in fact, not a cook. Turned out that this man, Escobert the Red, was the man in charge of the keep as a building, currently overruled by the Governor. He was one of Hurriks kind, a dwarf with spectacularly messy beard... it was knotted and tangled, but it still showed its natural bright red colour. With him, he carried a large ring of keys and that had been the very thing that alerted the party of his approach in the first place.

Once the first pleasantries had been exchanged, Escobert moved on to the most recent subject on his mind. "We had just figured how we could get you out when the enemy had the same idea for getting in... The Old Sally port has been breached! The initial rush has been repelled, but if you could join us in an attempt to block the route just in case the message managed to spread in their ranks... it would be most appreciated." The castellan's attitude towards the subject betrayed the real urgency of the situation: the guard of Greenest would likely not handle this without losses...

The provision of time in between the conflict, the brief lull, was all he needed to recover his strength and rise again in a second wind. The bite of the monsters' steely blades was just a memory now, just as was the slaying arrow he would have suffered; what arrogance they had to hunt him as one would an animal. The satisfaction of hewing them apart with the engraved blade of the greatsword was what his spirit fed on, the rush of righteous vengeance - the rake of nature's fury. It was nourishment as much as the water he had been granted, drunk from a small carved wooden bowl. Many men would demand wine or ale, but such pleasant rewards would be saved for victory... which they first needed to claim.

Returning the edge of the dish to his lips, he finished another downing of the water, keeping to himself and allowing the men of the keep to perform their duties. Had not the faintest what the few remaining soldiers were to do in all honesty, having not seen a city under siege let alone by dragon and its underlings. One man of dwarven descent however, with a wildly unkempt beard and loudly clattering keys, entered among the other soldiers, the man, the half orc and the halfling - clearly of some other caliber and duty.

"We had just figured how we could get you out when the enemy had the same idea for getting in... The Old Sally port has been breached! The initial rush has been repelled, but if you could join us in an attempt to block the route just in case the message managed to spread in their ranks... it would be most appreciated."

Brannor knew not what a "sally port" was or where the thing would even be located in a castle or keep, but he knew enough that the enemy moved first as they all expected. He set down the bowl beside him, rubbing the thick of his strong hands to one another; they, just as the rest of him, were cleanse now, wiped away of the grit and the conflict. He had done so prior to eating and again after, careful to reuse what little spare water they permitted for it. It was then he was taking up the greatsword by its leather bound grip from its resting place on the wood bench beside him, standing to fullest.

At first he said nothing as he looked to Escobert the Red, giving only a nod of understanding, but added thereafter in word too.

"Then show us the way, if you would." Brannor plainly said as he looked over their company, eager in spirit to see these things through on this night. The hunt was far from over and he would be damned if he would willingly surrender an opportunity to strike back again against the enemy's brashness.

@Phoenix@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher

Orchid was sitting by the fire, glad to get something in his belly. After a day of fighting and almost dying, anything was good. Even though the food was simple and there wasn't really much meat, Orchid was allowed to have as much as he wanted to eat. And thus, he ate much, and was even given a bucket of water and a cloth to clean himself. So he ate and washed, and by the time he was done he was feeling great! He laid back lazily next to the fire. He would have been fine taking a nap right now. Unfortunately, soon he was called over by the castellan, who turned out not to be a chef, for some important news.

Turns out they were under attack! Like Brannor, Orchid had no idea what a "sally port" was but if the enemy was here then they would die. Drawing his machete from it's sheath and grabbing his shield, Orchid was ready for battle as well. "Show us the enemy. They will die!" This time, Orchid wasn't going to allow himself to fall so easily. Once he finds the enemy, they will realize his true might.

After everyone had left, Parum just sorta wandered her own way. She needed time to think about what exactly she was getting herself into. At first, she only joined the caravan for mutual protection. But who would to think that instead of being attacked by bandits or wild animals, she would arrive to a besieged fortress, lead by a dragon! After getting over her initial fear, she had to admit she was very excited. She never thought she'd even see a dragon in the sky, yet there was one today. If they weren't trying to kill them, she would have so many questions for them. Where did it come from, what did it eat, how does it think about this culot that formed around it, and so much more.

But alas, Parum knew that this dragon likely wouldn't want to speak to her and would rather eat her. Her and everyone here in fact. Though it did make Parum wonder why it was attacking here. Well, aside from obvious reasons, like loot and plunder. But surely the dragon has seen Greenest's keep and would have known that it's people would retreat there. Why not attack caravans on the road like the one Parum traveled, or perhaps a village without a fortress nearby? So many questions yet no answers. And before Parum could really suss out why the castellan, a redhaired dwarf, arrived with urgent news: They were under attack!

The attack was at the sally port, which Parum knew was a sort of secure entry way meant for the fortress's defenders to have a reliable way out, without giving the enemy a way in. Of course the enemy would have had plenty of time to find the sally port and wait for their chance to charge, and that moment was now. If they've already gotten through the sally port then more may follow. Taking out her viol Parum steeled her resolve. "Then we have no time to lose. Let's go!" Having explored the fortress a short while before, Parum knew where the sally port was and went over there herself.

Escobert showed the way to the adventurers, taking multiple turns to avoid the biggest masses of people while seemingly knowing exactly where he was going. Not once did the dwarf stop to think what turn to take, but instead kept moving on and muttering to themselves in dwarvish about what turn would be coming next and after that and so forth.

Had they not been a dwarf, his pace might have caused the team to be left behind, but given his shorter legs the adventurers could keep up. In the end, they reached a door that was being guarded by five or so guards. One of the people in the back turned to salute towards the approaching group and gave them a quick briefing: "Castellan, sir! The attackers have been contained as of now, but we haven't had the chance to deal with the few who stand guard in the next room. They haven't had reinforcements yet, but I believe that any moment we delay will make the chances of backup greater."

Having received this information, Escobert nodded and turned to face the adventurers. "Well then, the entryway room is some 10 by 20 feet box of a room, but you might be able to use it to your advantage... Guess your job is to see whether you can seal the breached port again and try to drive the enemy out, one way or the other. I'll have the guards stay on this door so that none more slip in... But it's in your hands now", the dwarf shared his thoughts.

Brannor kept stride with the hurried dwarf, the other man making every movement of his journey knowingly, leaving the rest to do little more than follow. The halfling woman did lead now and then, caught up to by the rest only as they were being led the way and on a path their guide knew well. It took not too long in all truth for them to arrive before an entourage of guardsmen before a barred door, that of which their weapons and gear was set too in defense.

One issued his salute, speaking on how the enemy was trapped but only for the time being; the outlander, with a tightening of his knuckles upon the greatsword he bore then relaxed them in steady anticipation, allowing the others to converse. The dim candlelight of the keep's halls shrouded them all in flickering, shifting shadows, to which he hoped the enemy was not more concealed. He gave a nod, looking to the orc-blooded man beside him who seemed as eager as ever to charge into the fray and wreak havoc on the enemy's number.

"We will do more than just drive them out." Brannor replied in turn to Escobert afterward, noting in tone his intent to leave none of the darkness' children standing.

Shifting slightly in stance, feet readied and parted no more than the broadness of his shoulders, he prepared to draw up the weapon he carried and favored - its savage edges hungering once more. Over the shoulder did he give one last glance, seeing who else had joined the counterattack; for the moment, only man, halfling and half-blood were preparing their delve. It was about to be a very troubled, very bloodied effort if this were all they had.

@Phoenix@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher

Once the group arrived, Parum had already had a plan hatched out. They would have some time to prep, so Parum wanted to make sure everyone knew the plan before jumping in. "A ten by twenty room, I could fill the whole area with Faerie Fire. If I can catch them with that spell it should be easier for you guys to hit them. I'll try and support you with my other spells in the meantime. I don't have any healing spells just so you know. So please... Try not to do anything too rash!" Parum stood next to the door, hoping to use one of the bigger men as cover. She readied herself so that the moment the door opened but before the rest of her team could go through, she'd fill the room with Faerie Fire and give all her allies an advantage for the attack. She had her viol in one hand and her rapier in the other, sweat dripping down her brow as she prepared for the ensuing chaos.

"No! You can't!" Brother Dreel whispered as to not attract attention.
Ramando didn't say a word to the protest, instead wrapping his body in the ceremonial garb of his cloister. He wrapped his hands and forearms before working on his feet wrappings. Instead of wearing shoes or gloves, he seemed to prefer something with less protection and much more difficult to remove. No one would argue his decision for cotton wraps over leather gloves and boots since it seemed he never needed them. Never did one hear him complain about scratches and blisters.
"Please, don't tell the others," he rumbled with eyes like sorrow and brows like fear. "And if they find out, tell them not to worry."
"You'll die out there! The dragon...!" Dreel continued to protest. However, there was irony in this plea. If the dragon was strong enough to burn down a city, what was a Keep?
"I must prepare," he replied simply as if the concerns fell upon the deafened.

Faint screeching grew into roars in the distance above the city. Through the stoned walls, it was the sound of a strange whirring instrument Ramando could not name but only picture in his mind. He did not react physically to the audible threats, like most others. He needed to focus on the tenets on his training and gather the courage to delve into a circumstance of possible fatality. Another low roar was heard through the walls of the Keep as he quickly ate a modest meal.
He kept himself from the others. It would have been largely impossible to keep himself from others physically, however. Instead, he remained silent and moved with a swiftness and agility that wouldn't attract too much attention. Instead, he listened and tried to learn of the others with which he would be in a rescue party.
The half-orc and knight didn't make him uneasy. He worried for the intellectual capacities of Orchid, but the man as large as he seemed stoic and steadfast and well-educated, from what little he'd seen of the metal man. What worried him most was the halfling.
She seemed to be a poet or musician of some kind. He'd heard of Bards. He'd experienced their skill in entertainment. He knew they were often travelers, restless and curious. But this female halfling didn't seem to exude any such traits. She seemed meek and frail. Concerned for her life and the life of everyone else. The would certainly become a liability, and he accepted the hypocrisy which came with this. If he was to travel with them, he'd need to make a point to keep a close eye on her so that she wouldn't be ambushed along with the fact he never considered himself vanguard.
So aware of his surroundings, the sound of keys and boots under a heavy chin faded into the ballad of the mess hall. The rough sound of another dwarf caught his attention quickly enough, however. It'd seem he'd have to learn of his teammates under more stressful circumstances.
He could deduce where the sally port might be from his "tour" of the Keep when he and his Brothers arrived. Still, he followed from the rear, as he always would. He could hear echoed mutterings of dwarvish that he had a hard time understanding through such distortion. But then he realized he was just verbalizing the route he needed to take in order to reach the sally port.
When they regrouped, the briefing took place. Brannor'sir seemed to be confident in their abilities where Ramando, himself, was still unsure. However, then Parum's initial tactic seemed to shed some doubt.
She was an intellectual of a more serious sort, and her plan made sense. He'd make sure to keep close to her so he could protect her but also be close enough to obey orders should they be given.
His tethered hand gripped his quarterstaff. The clicking of the friction was difficult to hear in the din of the preparing battle. His other hand sat upon a pouch tied to the back of his waist where he stored his darts. He thought it'd be best to attempt ranged maneuvers before resorting to melee tactics, his own form of preparation. His heart raced with excitement and anxiety of the confrontation, as it usually would - in the beginning.

In the tense silence that hung in the air, the party could barely make out some noise from behind the door. The guards were not ones to delay, and as Parum prepared her spell, one of the men began showing numbers with his hand. Five fingers up... four fingers up... The two bigger frontline combatants prepared to strike as this countdown neared completion. Three, two, one... And then the soldier flung the door open and jumped clear, to both not stand in the way of the chargers and to avoid any possible potshots at him. Luckily enough, as soon as the door opened anyone who was there got a face full of Faerie Fire and were not really ready to shoot as they focused on dodging.

The box like room that now has several magical lights floating in it and on some of the people and creatures contained within, although they do little in the sense of providing extra light as a hooded lantern with it's hood up was already set on a barrel in back of the room. Other than that barrel, there are only few furnishings in the space, leaving it mostly barren, spare for a human figure, four kobolds, and one of those rather large sized drake things you've seen earlier from a distance that were standing guard. Some of them are frantically trying to get the lights off them, while some seem rather content they didn't catch any in the first place.

The feeling of magic in the air, its rush of peculiar, almost lifelike qualities born at the hands of the woman's arcane works, its energy then flooded the formerly dim confines of the room in brilliant globes of hovering light. A few of the invaders now surrounded by it, confused at first to what they were besieged by, were just in the same moment sprung upon as the attack commenced. Brannor spent not a moment of hesitation to this opportunity, placing the other hand upon the greatsword and rushing the first, most vulnerable of foes his eyes set to.

A pair of kobolds to the right, one by the other, were distracted by the glittering arcane orbs - one frantically reaching, attempting to be rid of them and the other mustering a defense against what he could see now in the counterattack. Both had little idea of just how grave an error they had made coming here on this night, how foolish this delve and endeavor was; what its price for them would be. Their panic, really nothing short of the scent of fear, drove a fair amount of added force behind the woodsman's blade and just as it did before with sword moving before body, it cut at a diving angle across his person from shoulder on down.


The steely, worn weapon's surface glinted in the magic light a moment before it almost certainly disappeared into its mark and by the time it returned to the ready, all in that same flash of controlled savagery, Brannor whipped about to his left and set fierce eyes upon the other foe. He did more than bare his teeth in menace, choosing to also wisely adjust his positioning; far more squared and interfering with the path seemingly now opened behind him. It was his hopes, as the sound of conflict evolved around him, that the enemy would be fool enough to move but only time would tell - other sensations filled his veins instead.

The thrill returned, once more the rush of the hunt, all the lull between had been cleared from his mind. It left the man, body armored in scrounged chain and hide, decorated at the hands and boots with old leathers and wrapped in hunting cloak with a euphoria unlike any other. He had tasted it only a few times before, striking down the odd wayward enemy that devoured the joy or beauty of the world outside. But to be one of the last few lights fighting, surrounded by darkness? Sublime.

He had few tastes or appreciations for the other finer things yet, learning as he was, but these events only opened his eyes more.

@Phoenix@Hekazu@Ryonara@Lucius Cypher

The victim of the attack soon became a casualty of war, leaving behind but a bleeding carcass as the warrior's ferocious strike connected with their flesh. The kobolds were quite frail creatures, as had become evident over the progress of this night... Luckily for the saviours-to-be of Greenest, the opposition once again was made up of mostly them.

In the cramped room most of the opposition was still distracted by the sudden magic assisted assault, with one exception. The man sized drake somewhat at the back roared at the approaching human and half-orc, in it's behaviour hinting a swift counterattack. While this might have been worrisome in the normal situation, the creature was now covered in glittering Faerie Fire and thus appeared quite a bit less threatening.

As soon as the door was open Orchid greeted the inhabitants with a bestial roar. "WAAAARGH!" Brannor charged forth to cut down the kobolds to the right, while the half-orc set his sights on the Drake at the center. Sure the beast was accompanied by a kobold and a human, but Orchid cared very little for whatever threat they pose. As his rage empowered him, Orchid charged forth, his machete poised to cleave off the head of the glittering drake in a single stroke. He ran to the drake's side, putting the dragon between the human, the kobold, and Orchid himself.

As the warrior slightly on the greener side rushed past the kobold that remained next to the earlier charger, the little creature tried to take a stab at them. Deft kick from the foot pushing the half-orc onwards discouraged the small assailant and they left their feeble attempt at that, now trying to decide whether they should keep their focus on Orchid or try to avenge their fallen brother. Seeing what the newcomer did next had them pick the latter, given what kind of trouble they had already got themselves in to.

The machete did cut the scaly skin of the man sized drake, leaving a quite nasty looking wound on its back, but that didn't seem to slow the creature down. It instead chose to lash back at the opponent that had closed the distance for it and leapt to bite. The earlier distraction provided by the kobold had had the desired effect: The half-orc was now keeping his legs away from the little thing and thus the drake had easier access to their thigh. The attempt, however, was parried with the same blade that had cut the drake earlier. The situation seemed to be developing well for the assaulting party.

The dark skin of his chest vibrated with the strong pulse of anxiety. Some beads of sweat trailed through the forest covering his skin. His brow bubbled from humidity and excitement. He'd made sure his hair was tied back in an intricate braid so when it'd come undone, it wouldn't necessarily fall into his face. Regardless, his scalp perspired just as much which his thick and dark hair would absorb to produce a healthy sheen for itself.
He shifted his eyes down at the halfling, "Parum" he had to reiterate in order to remember for the sake of courtesy, watching her body shift under the will of her mind preparing to cast some sort of spell he'd likely never seen before. His eyes were then fixed on the door, but past the door. His arm rose with the Quarterstaff gripped to release it from his back.
The aged wood with metal castings for what seemed to be decoration had some gaps which didn't do much to compromise the door's integrity. The hardwood was almost unbreakable for most any melee attack. This eased his mind knowing there wasn't anything to not expect beyond the planks and fastings.
The murmurs faded to the back of his mind. The image of the door faded into everything his eyes could perceive. The noise of inside and outside filled his ears. He could feel the drafts of air, however resistant, against his exposed skin. When the portal gave way, his body responded on its own as his training had instructed.
The tall black figure with scales and wings covered in glitter was the first thing he'd seen. Orchid, he'd remembered, went straight for it. A slash and a slash was exchanged swiftly. His fingers slipped over a dart and he flung the object in a single movement that was filled with grace barely conceivable from its speed.
Just as the dart left his hand, he made the split decision to rush next to Brannor'sir, understanding that this was the safest place for him to be for the sake of Parum. It was also the safest place for himself, next to the Paladin. He'd moved only a few steps against the wall before he came up to a creature identical to the ones he'd slain in the town two days ago. As if a dance, the hand gripping the quarterstaff twirled against his free hand. The hand that once flung a dart continued its inertia toward the base of the rib cage of a Kobold that had somehow dodged from being covered in the nightsky spell. The knuckles of the fist pushed through the air as hard as his arm would allow.
The starry Kobold fell in two pieces at the hand of the mighty paladin just beside him. With only his bare hands, Ramando couldn't pretend his attack was anywhere around the level of fantastical display, but effectiveness was his goal. Now that a line of men was created, hopefully Parum would be able to effectively perform some such trick to the room still full of enemies.

Parum quietly cheered seeing that her Faerie Fire had worked, and best of all it struck the drake in the room! Granted, shocked Parum immensely, but she supposed that it wouldn't be far fetched for a dragon to have lesser dragons under it's command. However while the Drake was certainly a large threat, Parum turned her attention to the only human in the room. he must have been a brigand like the ones in the town, or possibly a cult of the dragon? Parum had heard of people worshiping dragons, even fairly young ones, in hopes of power or baring dragon-hybrid children. Thus Parum aimed her spell at the human, her words laced with vitriol and magic.

"I didn't know it was bring your pets to work day. Show me a trick and play dead!"

After mocking the human, Parum went over to Brannor and Ramando. She wasn't close enough to get to the kobolds they were fighting, mostly sticking close to them in order to have them protect her. Not wanting to just rely on the men to take hits for her, Parum looked to Brannor and gave him a thumbs up. "You're doing great Brannor! Keep up the attack!" While a simple encouragement, Parum's words would fill Brannor with strength and conviction for his next action when he needs it (Brannor now has Bardic Inspiration).

The monk's dart flew past his allies, landing on the drake's front leg despite the creatures attempt to step out of the way. The beast was now bleeding from two spots and this could be seen in it's somewhat unsteady posture. However, what it lacked in steadiness, it more than made up in the glare of rage it graced it's adversaries with. It still lived, but probably not for much longer.

The kobold that had the unfortunate opportunity to taste the monk's fist didn't fare quite as well on the endurance's side... a sharp snap beneath the striking fist and a very sharp exhale preceded the creature crashing onto the floor, twitching momentarily before finally laying still. One more of the attackers down.

And just like the earlier attempts at their enemies, Parum's cutting words found the base they were seeking in the human's mind, allowing them to influence the man's future actions. But before the person had a chance to retaliate, the two remaining kobolds were already on the move. The first one behind the drake hopped to it's side before the human and struck diagonally against Orchid, scoring a strike against their rage hardened flesh. While this was going on, a rock flew from the breached door towards the monk, no doubt loosed from the sling if the lone kobold. The shot went pitifully wide, striking the ceiling above.


Lastly, the human approached the drake, with the kobold next to it speaking to the latter in draconic: "Thurirl zara. Xihood ti." The drake seemed to accept the kneeling human's touch as white light shone from the man's left hand, as well as something they grasped in their right. The drake's wounds closed themselves just a small amount as it growled defiantly at the heroes before it.