Under a massive, ancient oak on the edge of Felwood sat the village of Nevrist. It blended in well with the scenery, indeed, it was almost swallowed by the maw of the woods around it on three sides. For years, the villagers had expertly scaped the surrounding trees so the village could grow, stretch its legs, but the forest had still kept close guard over it.

It was in this particular village on a particularly stormy summer night that an old man, dressed in black robes and leaning wearily on his staff walked into the Oak & Rapier tavern. He sat down at an unoccupied table, seemingly invisible, blending into the crowd around him. The barmaid noticed him, and took his order for ale, for which he thanked her weakly. The old man had come a long way, and his journey had not been easy, but it was far from over, he knew. The ones the oracle had told him about should be there soon. All too soon. He sipped his ale, his eyes moving across the crowd, taking everything, everyone, every movement in. He knew he must rest soon, for every muscle, every bone in his body ached of fatigue, and he hoped the ones he was looking for came soon to the inn.

That's when the first walked in, dressed in a red robe with a silver clasp. He moved slowly, all his features obscured by his hooded robe, soaking wet from the torrential downpour outside. The newcomer carried a black leather bag across his shoulder, and the old man thought him a scholar, not the one he was looking for. The old one was about to turn back to his ale when he noticed what else was strapped to the red-robed stranger's back, a huge falichon sword, which he was removing as he sat down at another unoccupied table. Removing his robe, the old one knew for certain that this was one of the adventurers he was waiting for.

The stranger's name was Petraak Dragonborn. His red scales glinted softly in the low light of the fireplace as he took out a few of his posessions, a pipe, a few coins for a drink, and a book, Ars Materia et Magicka. A scholar as well as a warrior, the old one thought, watching him carefully. The dragonborn lifted his pipe to his lips and blew into the pipe, lighting it with a small puff of flame. He ordered mead from the barmaid and began to absorb himself into his book. Suddenly, after his mead had been brought to him and he'd taken a few drinks, he noticed a strange old man leaning on a black wooden staff standing across the table from him.

"Do I know you, old one?"

"No, Petraak Dragonborn, but I know you, and I have a proposition for you."

"You know me, do you? Then you know I am honor bound to listen to what you have to say. Be warned, stranger, and choose your words carefully, for I have had a long journey here, and my patience is almost gone."

The old man smiled darkly and sat down at the table.

"I know, Petraak Dragonborn, that you are a great warrior, but you are also an archivist, a searcher for forgotten lore. You are the last of your kind, as the crest on your robe suggests. A knight of Bahamut's Flame."

The old man was right, and Petraak couldn't figure out how he knew. No one he'd ever met, outside the dragonborn themselves, knew of his order. The old man was right, he was the last of his kind, a warrior librarian, chosen by his predecessor and his before him to be the spiritual guardian of the Library of Truth, which had existed long ago, before the Fall of the Dragonborn Empire. The crest was silver with an image of Bahamut surrounded in a wreath of flame. He was entrusted with a journey to find the truth about the Fall and help restore the once proud empire. Concerned about how the stranger knew so much, he reached for his sword, and grasped it in his huge right hand.

"I don't know how you know so much, old one, but how do you know me and what do you know of my order?"

The old man smiled darlky again and said simply-

"The oracle."

Just then, the old one's head turned to face the door, a second he was waiting for had just arrived. He smiled to himself. This would be good. Very good indeed...

Miri rode easily through the forest nearing a human village lying on the fringes of the forest. Thankfully it was far from the elven home woods that she had left a days ago.

The smell of smoke and human habitation told her when she was near though she was still in the forest itself. Before reaching the edge of the forest Miri paused and with a quiet telepathic exchange between the two she rode on leaving Stormy there to hunt for himself and the dark shadow that moved so silently that one might wonder if it was a living thing or a ghostly specter. Moving up to stand near Miri on her elven stallion Moondancer, the shadow resolved itself into a huge smoky black wolf.

Stormy huge for his kind his back level to the to the botttom of Miri's stirrup. Hunt now came Stormmies though of warm flesh and red blood. yes, but not humans animals Miri replied. be wary she added, and the shadow that was Stormy melded into the night darkened forest and was gone. Good Hunting she sent after him

Miri could still feel him fairly close though he was moving quickly. By extending her senses she also knew without sight or sound that there were plenty enough prey animals for stormy to datisfy is hunger with. If he didn’t find enough he would come find her and she would provide his dinner. Though she knew he much preferred his own fresh-caught kill. In the dark of the late evening her dun colored clothes and dark green cloak on a silver sun stallion Moondance blended into the forest shadows, A darker shadow moved out the the woods to close with Miri as she halted there.

Miri withdrew her extended senses as she did not want to experience Stormy making a kill this night. She sat there for a moment more thinking about what she might find and what the future will bring. Clucking softly to Moondancer she rode forward not looking back. The stallion danced forward lightly still quite fresh.

Miri rode into the village passd the small homes of men up to the inn larger and more brightly inn near the center of the village. Going to the stables she nodded to the stableman, but indicated she would take care of her horses herself by the simple fact that she lead them into the stable. She watered them both first and then forked in a couple fork fulls of hay for each. Then she unsaddle and brushed them down, though she tipped the stableman a couple of coppers anyway. Miri pays him for the stabling and feed at the going rate and asks for two measures of grain for them each to be given one in about and hour and another later that night.

Picking up her saddle bags she moved toward the inn and through the doors. She made sure her deep hood was still up as she moved toward the doors of the inn.

The sights, sounds and smells assailed her senses. and for a moment she paused not sure she wanted to stay here for the night, but the desire for a hot meal drew her further into the inn. She moved forward to find a seat off in a corner where there were no others nearby.

Removing his hand from his sword and leaning back in his chair, taking a long puff from his pipe, he asked the old man, "The oracle? I've heard of oracles, old one, but I have never myself seen one. They are the stuff of legend. I follow Bahamut and Ioun, not some crazed oracle, claiming to see the future."

"It's not a claim, young Dragonborn, she showed me the future, and I've come here tonight to ask for your help and the help of a few others."

The old man still had his eyes trained on the newcomer. Petraak glanced over, and with his keen eyesight that had now adjusted to the dim of the inn, he saw that it was an elf. A female elf. He wondered what this old man wanted with her. And him, for that matter.

"Who are you, old one? And what is it you want with a librarian?"

"My name is Xanaras, and when all of the travelers I await arrive, I will tell you what it is I need with you," He picked up his staff and pushed a second chair out from the table, "But for now, suffice it to say I need one trained in the ways of ancient lore. Someone who appreciates the importance of the ancient Works."

He then caught the attention of the second traveler, and motioned for her to come over to the table to join him and the dragonborn. Petraak puffed on his pipe and wondered at him, wondered what he'd gotten himself into this time.

Miri was sitting quietly in her darkened corner. The hood of her cloak still up. She waited patiently for the serving girl as she glanced about the room. Most of the customers were villagers, though a few travelers had were present also. One large human male was talking to an old man several tables away. Her gaze unhampered by the darkness of the corner she sat in, swept over them, lingering only to assess what she could by their dress and demeanor. The big man gave a clear indication that he was so sort of fighter type. He stood the way fighter types did, balanced on his feet in a position to move quickly if necessary.

The old man might be a local but for the travel stained and dusty robes he wore. So she suspected he was a traveler too.

The two men one old and frail and one young and strong were talking lowly.

"Sir, what can I get you?" the serving wenches voice drew Miri's attention.

"Drinks are ale, beer, and cider. Stew from the pot, bread and cheese or if you want something else there is chicken and a roast beef, but that is extra."

Miri schooled her voice to a lower timber. "Stew is fine though lots of vegetables, bread and cheese and a cider.

Finishing her order Miri takes up her observation of others using just her eyes and ears. It was then two things caught her sense and not just her physical senses. The old man had turned towards her and beckoned her with his hand motioning her to join him at his table. She was curious and did not move from her place until she he, <> clearly in her mind.

Gathering her saddlebags she moved towards the old man’s table and sat in the chair he pointed to.

The summer skies stormed with wind and rain tossing the branches and leaves of the forest below. Yet Ula Siddha moved calmly through the Felwood trees, little rain passed beneath the leafy canopy and the tropical winds of her jungle home were far more severe than those tonight. It had been some time since she had left the rain forests in the tropics. Most of the jungle fey had long since left this world, drawn forever into the unknown mysteries that lay beyond the world of dreams. New only a precious few remained and as more faded from the land the call of the dream grew only stronger. Her people were in their twilight, would they soon fade away into the coming night?

Ula had lived for many ages and she felt the call of the dream strongly within her being. Fearing that her next step into the dream world would hold her there forever she left the ancient jungle lands for the lands of men. The call of the dream lessened away from the jungle home, everything lessened away from the home. Yet here she was and before she wandered into the dream and faded into the night she would see something more of this world.

The faery made her way through the labyrinth of branches, every step took her closer to the human village that lay beyond the forest. She could not understand why she was so drawn to mortal settlements. Men were intoxicated with fear and awe by the wild fey. Ula had seen what fear did to men. Touching her shoulder she shuttered at the memory. Cold forged iron had pierced her flesh there and left a wound that no amount of magic could heal. Her body had to heal the wound itself, and even now after the scar had faded she still held the phantom memory of that wound. Blinded by the fear of the unknown a man had attacked her on sight. Only a body remained of him now for after his iron blade cut she had shown him the power of a faery's kiss.

Reaching the forest edge Ula jumped down from the tree silently landing on the forest floor. The occasional flash of lightning illuminated her figure. She stood tall and slender, an all too beautiful woman alone in the darkness. Smooth copper skin glistened from the rain's moisture and her long thick black hair spun itself in ringlets. Her almond shaped eyes glowed faintly with incandescent light shifting in color from greens and blues to violets and brilliant silvers. She wore brown colored gossamer, the simple gown clung to her and split at the hips falling to her knees with dark brown leggings tucked into soft tan boot. Ula took a step toward the village, it would have been pragmatic to take another form but she was hardly in a mood to be anything other than herself. If any hostilities showed she could weave a charm so potent that any fool who dared attack her would be lucky to remember their name let alone the sight of the faery.

Running a hand through her damp hair Ula made her way into the human village. A few stared wide eyed in her direction but for the most part she moved unhampered. Nearing an inn she moved closer, inns always fascinated her and she was hungry - the Felwood had yielded little fresh fruits. The fey made her way to the entrance. Pushing the door open she stepped into the common room. The sights, smells, and sounds of the space overtook her and her incandescent eyes began searching the room for a space to quietly take it all in.

The Dragonborn had seen right, the new traveler was a female elf.

"Welcome, fair lady. Our host seems to want to speak to both of us. I am Petraak Dragonborn. This is Xanaras, our impromtu host."

The elven woman noticed the Dragonborn's scales for the first time, glinting in the firelight as she settled into her chair.

"Yes, welcome," said the old man, "we haven't much longer to wait until we begin talking business."

Both of them were obviously in wonder at what business they could possibly have with the old man. He told Miri, as the elf had introduced herself as, about the oracle as well. He expounded the tale for both of their benefits.

"I traveled a long time to find the oracle, the ancient one my master told me of. Across dark forests, over tall, ancient mountains, and far across the sea to find this oracle. She told me of adventurers who would come to this place who would provide the assistance I need."

"What sort of assistance?" The Dragonborn asked, puffing again on his pipe, "You still haven't told us anything about what it is you want."

"Ahh, but the time will come soon when you will understand. We are not all gathered here yet."

"And you expect us to wait? I for one want no part of something I know nothing about."

The Dragonborn rose from the table, but the old man swung his staff, hitting him in the back of the legs, causing him to fall down into the chair once again.

"Sit down, Petraak Dragonborn. Patience is necessary for what lies ahead," the old man said, in a dark tone, "But we must wait for the others, as I have no interest in repeating myself."

Petraak glared at the old man and returned to his pipe, "Then I suppose we shall wait, my lady. But, mark my words, old one, I have my suspicions, and you had better have answers for all of us."

The old man smiled darkly once again, leaning back in his chair. Soon, the others would be here, and soon the adventure would begin. The mage's eye was caught again by another entrant. "Ahh, the one they call 'Ula." He motioned for the newcomer to join them at the table. The other two were stunned by the sight of the fey entering the inn, and both looked at each other and wondered about where the night would lead them.

As Miri drew closer her observation skills, developed during her training as ranger and scout saw the glitter of scales on the bid fighter's arm--one of the Dragon-blooded. Miri was intrigued to say the least. Sitting in the indicated chair Miri politely introduces herself, "I am Miri and you are? "

After the brief introductions, the old man had a bit to say about an oracle and a trip. It was rather short and to th e point and not very enlightening. Miri was not sure why he told her but she took in the information in and kept quiet for now, out of respect of the age of the human at least and because of manners she had been taught to hold to; even though this old man's years probably did not match the years she had already lived. He counseled patience. She could be patient and so she waited.

Miri keeps her eyes on the old and the Dragon-blooded who was not so patient with the current goings on. The big man rose and turned to leave the table. The old man's staff streaks out and neatly catching the big man behind his knees as he was walking away and drops him unceremoniously into the other chair.

Miri waited with baited breath. She was sure the big fighter was use to such treatment from another. She would be interested and how he responded. The man retained his composure.

While this transpired Miri sensed a change in the room as the outside door opened. She quickly glanced in that direction and was surprised to see who entered, strange indeed. Never had she expected to see one of the fey walking into a human inn. Now her attention was caught and held. Miri rose from her chair still cloaked but she nodded in respect for the woman who entered.

Ula stood at the tavern entrance surveying the common room. Water dripped from her still wet body gathering in a puddle on the aged wood floor. Patrons and barmaids filled the low lit room. She wrinkled her nose at the scent of ale. A wizened black robed man caught her attention as he waved her over to his table. Cocking her head to the side Ula focused her attention on the man and his two companions. He sat with a honey haired elf maid and a large man covered in glinting red scales; a strange trio indeed. Curiosity pulled her to the three. Ignoring the stares Ula moved through the crowded room to the black robed man and his companions.

Reaching the table the fey stopped and gazed at each of the three companions in turn; the robed man, the scaled man, and the standing elf woman. She caressed the worn top of a wooden chair and continued to study the three. Each was unlikely company for the other, and they had sought her attention as well.

"Excuse me m-m-m'lady," the squeak of a serving girl interrupted Ula's focus,"c-c-can I get you sumthin?"
Ula smiled at the mouse haired girl and addressed her in cool musical tones"Thank you child. I will have tea and fresh fruit."
As the girl nodded and ran off to the kitchens Ula took her place at the table. She motioned for the elf woman to sit and she returned her silent gaze to the companions. Only fools and those of great power sought the attentions of the fey folk. Legend told that once caught faeries had to grant their captors one wish. The truth was not far from the legend, but the fey were capricious by nature and many soon learned to be careful what they wished for. These three had sought her attention and now had it.

"Greeting strangers,"

Clouds of blinding steam blew in Jonathan’s face. The water below was feverishly hot, and he squinted his eyes against the heat. Sweat and condense were already forming on his forehead. He wiped his thin brow with his forearm, before the liquid could leak into his eyes. Below the surface lay the goal of his task, but he wasn’t keen on burning his delicate fingers. He could feel the temperature radiating onto his palms as he held his hands above the water hesitantly. Then a big fist grabbed his left wrist and yanked it into the hot basin.

“It gets easier if ya just go for it without thinkin’,” the cook told him with a stern look. Jonathan felt the water burn, but grabbed the first plate off the stack and started scrubbing it with a brush. Absently, he glanced around the kitchen. It was not the biggest kitchen he had ever seen, nor the cleanest. But it was a cosy one, and the cook looked mean, but was really soft hearted. He was the one who had hired Jonathan to wash dishes for a few evenings, in trade for some silver pieces, a meal and a room to sleep in. It was not the grand performance the young bard had hoped for. It was surely nothing like the adventures he had lived a few months past, but it bought him shelter and food, and Jonathan knew better than to pass on those. There was only so much he would do to keep his slender figure. Starving himself to a desirable size was not an option.

When he finished the first stack of plates, he dried his hands on the dirty apron that he had been given, and moved the pile over to the cabinet, where the serving girls would take them, or the cook, or whoever was dressing the plates in this establishment.
Through the door, he could see the common room, with the patrons dining and drinking, smoking and conversing. His attention was drawn to an old man who seemed to be harassing a strange looking warrior. Jonathan leaned closer and concentrated on their words.

…you are a great warrior, but you are also an archivist, a searcher for forgotten lore…
“Forgotten lore…” Jonathan whispered, but then jumped as a hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder. It was the cook’s wife, who was in charge of the bar, and she pried her eyes into his own. “I think you are the one who is forgetting something. Back to work!” She snapped at him under her breath, after which her face instantly went to ‘customer friendly’ before she stepped into the common room.

Jonathan went back to work, scraping crusts off bowls and silverware, and dipping them into the hot water before giving them a good scrub. But when he returned to the cabinet a few minutes later, he couldn’t help but glance through the door, behind which the old man was now talking to the warrior and an elven woman.

“This reeks of adventure,” Jonathan thought, and returned to the kitchen counter. From that moment on, he dried every single item he washed right away, and brought it to the cabinet. It was the most inefficient way of getting his job done, but it allowed him to gather bits and pieces of the conversation.
Slowly, he felt the urge for adventure rise in his heart. It started like a slight unrest in his muscles, then spread to tingle in his fingers. He had trouble standing still, and hopped gingerly on his feet while doing the dishes When he brought two cups to the cabinet, he was juggling them as he walked. He knew then that he better not try to get any more information on what those three were gathering for, because it would surely make him do something he would regret later.

He allowed himself a final glance at the trio, and was sold immediately. They were now joined by the most stunning beauty Jonathan had ever seen. This woman was so exotic looking that she could not possibly be human. His bardic nature took over, and he kicked in the door with his foot, slammed the two cups on the bar as he passed it, and made for the table where the old man was sitting.

“I don’t know what you guys are up to, but I want in. I’m tired of scrubbing dishes when my voice should be heard by the world. Let me help you, and you will not regret it!”

He glanced slightly to the side, to see if the beautiful woman had noticed his bravado. He had heard women liked bold men. Or was it bald men? He thought it was the first as he looked back at the wizard. He couldn’t picture anybody getting the hots for a hairless old man like that. He smiled sincerely, for there was no ounce of disrespect in his mind. He was young, and didn’t know any better.

Petraak was getting nervous with all these strangers gathering around. The night was strange enough being accosted by this ancient looking magician.

"Are you satisfied yet with the crowd you've gathered, old one?"

"Patience, Dragonborn, it is almost time," the wizard said darkly, obviously beginning to lose his own patience with the Dragonborn.

Defeated, Petraak decided he should at least begin the introductions.

"I am Petraak Dragonborn, a knight of Bahamut's Flame. I'm also an archivist and servant of both Bahamut and Ioun. And you are..." he began, turning to the women of the group.

Suddenly, a brash young man ran over to the table and shouted, "I don’t know what you guys are up to, but I want in. I’m tired of scrubbing dishes when my voice should be heard by the world. Let me help you, and you will not regret it!"

Petraak thought to himself, "Voice should be heard by the world? What is he? Some kind of bard? Great, that's all we need. A bard..."

The old man smiled as he called the last of the group over to the table, a figety gnome, adding to the already strange-looking group of adventurers gathered around the table.

The fire seemed to burn brighter as the old man announced that it was time to begin. A hush fell over the group as they listened to the old man's frail voice over the cacophony of the inn and the driving rain, punctuated by claps of thunder.

"Petraak Dragonborn, Ula Siddha, Miriele’ilsifea, Iwik Fisslegroan, and yes, even you, Jonathan Longward, I've been waiting for all of you. Waiting, even without you knowing. You see, I went to meet with the ancient Oracle of Hrota, and she informed me that I was to wait at this inn for a specific group of people that would help me with a certain...problem."
He paused and smiled darlky beneath the black hood of his robe, his dark eyes shining in the firelight, reminiscent of orbs of molten steel in a blacksmith's shop. On anyone else, those eyes would've been eerie, but they suited the old wizard.

"Now, as you already know, my name is Xanaras. I am a mage and your benefactor. I need you to travel through Felwood to a place that was once a great temple to the ancient gods. It has been lost to time, but I was fortunate to find a map that leads right to Sunryad, the lost Forest Temple."
Xanaras paused again to give the adventurers time to soak up his speech thus far and sipped his ale to moisten his throat.

"Once there, you are to enter and seek out the tomb at the center of the temple. Therein is something I desire very much, an ancient tome of arcane lore, called "The Tome of the Red Mountain." It would be of little interest to any of you."

"Then why should we do this? There is no honor, no glory in a quest such as this, old one," Petraak spoke up, speaking more than his mind, as the others nodded slightly in agreement.

The old man smiled again, his dark, wry smile, "My eternal gratitude, of course. Then again, there is the treasure that has been buried there for centuries, weapons, staves, items of great magic, and for you, dear Dragonborn, there is quite the selection of history there. Some of it may pertain to your own quest."
The Dragonborn narrowed his eyes and exhaled a puff of smoke in frustration. "How does he know so much about me? About all of us? Either way, we must find out, especially if there's the chance of restoring my people's empire," he thought to himself.

Alright, old one, I for one will accept this quest to bring honor to my people and to myself. But I do have one question. Why is it you can't go yourself? You are magi."

"It's true, Petraak Dragonborn, I am magi, but I am also old, and I cannot attempt this journey on my own. But heed my words, you will be rewarded handsomely from the spoils therein."
Petraak once again wondered what he'd gotten himself into as he took another puff from his pipe.

"So who else will accept the old one's quest? We seem to have all been called here by Fate itself. I, for one, am ready to meet whatever Fate has in store."

And so it was, as they all agreed to venture into Felwood, that they began their journey. It would be a long journey, full of perils and adventure, with the hope of treasure at its end.

Leading the way into Felwood, Petraak looked at the map the old man had given him and saw that the path ahead was the same path indicated on the map. It had stopped raining, but the path was still dark and narrow, and he could hear the howling of something in the distance. Wolves, maybe? Or something far worse?

He checked his sword to make sure it was at the ready, and checked his armor one last time before turning around and asking the group, "We need a scout to lead us through the woods. I would volunteer, but my armor's too heavy to move quietly. Any takers?"

When the brash youth with the dirty apron intruded so vociferously into the group demanding that he too be allowed to take part, Miri did not respond. It was not for her to do. For whatever reason they had all been drawn here as it seemed they had, it was not for her to squash his pretensions,

The old magi told his tale to the assembled strangers, each responding to what he said. While Miri listened she also assess the others gathered by there reactions.. The dragon-blooded man one Petraak Dragonborn, by name, was the first to speak up on a challenging tone.

"Then why should we do this? There is no honor, no glory in a quest such as this, old one," Petraak spoke up, speaking more than his mind, as the others nodded slightly in agreement. Miri was not one of those, for her such a request was not so unusual. Such a story as he told was very like the stuff of legends and tales of great adventures she had read so avidly as a child, as was the promise of treasure the old man mentioned to the obdurate Petraak. That was also part of the tales she had read.

Petraak apparently satisfied with the mention of treasures to be found accepted the old man’s offer. Miri waited to see who else would accept, and when they had, she quietly nodded to the old man who looked at her quietly after the rest had accepted.

“I will take up this adventure as well, Xamaras. The path through the Felwood is fraught with many perils, some can be avoided some cannot.”

Miri stood and excused herself shortly after that, “I will meet you ready to ride shortly, until then I have things to do.” She moved to the door leading outside and shut it behind her. Drawing a deep breath of the night air washed clean by the rain she moved to the stable and her horse.

Once the group had gathered together they departed the inn and the small village. Miri could sense Stormy waiting not far off and she sent her that they would be traveling on and that she was with strangers.

"We need a scout to lead us through the woods. I would volunteer, but my armor's too heavy to move quietly. Any takers?" Petraak remarked as they set out.

Miri smiled under her hood as she broke off her contact with Stormy who was telling her about her successful hunt that night. Miri did not want to sense the acidic tang of fresh blood and the crunch of bone of Stormy’s prey.

“I have some skill as a scout, I will be willing to take up that position.” Miri offers and ride forward to do just that.

<> Miri mind spoke her companion.

Felwood was dark that night. It was dark anyway, and even the sounds of nature there were disquieting in the dark. The wind became banshees flying through the trees, screaming their dirges. Frogs were the croaks of hobgoblins, and the wolves' howls seemed otherworldly.

The companions made their way down the path into the forest, but had yet to noticed that, as they moved forward, the path closed behind them. They also failed to notice that they were being watched, watched by ancient eyes, deep in the darkness. If they listened carefully, they could hear creatures flanking them on both sides as they moved down the path, adding to the tension they already felt from being in Felwood on such a night.

It was said that Felwood was cursed, and any who ventured into it was doomed to an eternity among its trees, never finding a way out. It was said a great evil resided there, but the legend was so old, it was long forgotten, and the tale of the cursed Felwoods was something mothers told their children, and yet, despite that fact, they could feel something in the darkness, something shapeless and yet distinct, with the acrid scent of evil in the air like ozone after a lightning strike.

Suddently, a shape moved from their flanks and jumped in front of them. They barely got a glance at it before it dashed off to the other side. A wolf? A ghost? None of them could tell, but they were all getting at least a bit nervous. It's one thing to know that an attack is coming, but quite another to not to when or where it will occur.

And still the eyes watched from the darkness.

The creature dashed out again, and this time it stayed in front of them. It was soon joined by other creatures, creatures that reeked of evil. Hobgoblins and worgs. Two of the most vile creatures of the wood.

Petraak Dragonborn was the first to draw his sword and attempt to protect the others, but they were clearly surrounded. "It's time for battle...good..."the Dragonborn knight thought to himself. He'd been in the archives for far too long...

Not too far off from where the travelers passed:

Sereena slipped sinuously through the Felwood forest; her soft sandals crushed no leaf, no twig snapped, and no bush rustled. Her neutral clothing and her own natural camouflage, since there was no one about she had dispensed with her tunic, kept her almost unseen, even without consciously hiding.

She had been cat napping when a clumsy bunch of Hobgoblins and their dire wolves brought her awake in a flash, and she had decided to follow them, surreptitiously. They seemed intent on something off to the right, as they angled toward whatever it was,keeping themselves low and out of sight as much as they could. They were up to no good that was for sure. She followed. Her ears caught the sound of horses moving ahead, their feet crunching the forest litter. You can’t sneak through the forest on a horse.

As she watched, they made their move moving to attack, all but one laggard hanging back. Sereena waited until the others had moved and she moved up to the lone hobgoblin, He dropped to the ground under as her leg swung out taking him down buysing a well placed leg to the back of his knees, tripping him up. With his neck exposed, and he fell, one slicing chop with the side of her hand slammed him in his throat She felt and heard the crushing of his wide pipe. He would soon be gasping for a breath that would never come, nor would he get up. The primal need to breathe, would keep down and out of the fight until he expired from suffication, she hoped.