Chapter 6 - When is a door not a door?

A cold fury burned within Hrodulf's eyes, a twitch pulling at the muscles of his face as he adjusted his grip on the axe he named Grimnir. He rose silently and charged towards the group clustered at the door, action being the answer to the question Morfindion had asked. Grimnir whistled as it rent the air cutting the thread of life from one of the cultists and burying itself in the neck of a Kobold. Morfindion followed up behind and once he got close launched a spell that covered the other human with a green spray that caused him fall to the floor jerking and spasming in his poisoned death throes.

The remaining Kobolds seemed to not quite understand what was going on until it was too late, Grimnir swung again, rending the air, drinking their blood and spraying it across the rear door of the temple. Two more lay dead at Hrodulf's feet, no sound issuing from his lips that were drawn back from his white teeth. Morfindion stabbed at one of the remaining Kobolds cutting it deeply across its chest but not causing grievous enough a wound to cause it to fall.

The Kobolds scrabbled to attack, lashing out at both Morfindion and Hrodulf both of whom were left with bloody cuts marking their tunics. With two vicious overhead chops Hrodulf hacked the life from the petrified dragon kin before flicking the blood from Grimnir's blades. Morfindion hammered the door shouting "we are from the keep... Open the door! We must be away before the raiders return!"

He kicked away the kindling as the door opened a crack. The face of a man peered through the crack, his holy symbol evident., a priest of Chauntea!

Hrodulf kicked at the door knocking the man back on his arse and strode into the temple. Morfindion reached down and offered the priest a hand as Hrodulf started cursing the raiders attempting to batter down the door making enough noise to try to draw the roving band to the front of the building.

Morf and the priest entered into a brief conversation as the intensity of the battering increased. The priest casting glances at Hrodulf all the while as he vomited forth a vile diatribe at the raiders beyond the doors.

He then came to his assembled flock who had clustered in the centre of the room keeping an even distance between the cursing of the vile pirate and the Elven stranger. "we must go... They have come from Governor Nighthill to bring us to the safety of the keep... We must hurry!" he said quickly ushering them towards the door.

Hrodulf took the rear of the straggling line as Morfindion lead them back towards the keep, again keeping away from the Kobolds and cultists as they roamed the town looking to loot and pillage. They were about 100 feet from the keep when they were spotted and had to run as fast as they were able through the sallyport of the keep, the archers above holding their persuerd at bay.

The thick bar dropped into place behind them and the guards patted both Morfindion and Hrodulf on the back at their bravery, thanks that Hrodulf shrugged off sneering at having to put his life on the line for some snivelling peasants. The Governor, now bandaged welcomed them back and offered them bunks to rest in at the barracks for his men.