"Fine then," grumbles Bronwyn, not totally mollified. "Just go slow I can hardly see a thing."

Bronwyn scowled at Elendil's remark of putting herself in the captives place. She didn't like thinking about some poor person held captive by goblins. Not that she liked goblins they were always a bother stealing foods, and goods from those less protected. However their farmlands situated as they were deep into civilized lands did not suffer as many raids as did the borderlands.

SHe couldn't keep the thoughts of the captive out of her head though she said nothing. No reason to give Elendil any idea that she had some qualms abut her earlier decision. not to get involved.

"These two,” she pointed at the two goblins near the north eastern trail, which appeared to be leading to another camp, “must be taken out immediately. We cannot risk them warning the next camp.” With a quick look in that direction, she looked back at the group, “I may be able to take them out myself, but should there be any unforeseen surprises up their sleeves, perhaps one other can come with me to make sure they are both dealt with quickly and silently, leaving no chance for escape.”
"She talks!" Dylan cast a grin at the half-elven 'Artanis'. She seemed for this entire journey to be embraced in a shroud of her own world. It seems the possibility of a fight in the near future managed to bring her to life. I hope she's not one of those 'live for the battle' campaigners. I wonder what she'll be like once we get back civilization? Will she fall into her own world again? Or will she live a little?
"I offer my services in this endeavour, Artanis. I am hardly any swordsman in my own right, but I can do alright for myself."

“She talks!”
Artanis looked slightly surprised at Dylan for a moment, an almost confused look on her face. Then a grin appeared on her lips and she chuckled before leaning close and whispering conspiratorially, “Yes. 'She' can dance too.” a playful wink followed her comment.

"I offer my services in this endeavor, Artanis. I am hardly any swordsman in my own right, but I can do alright for myself."
“Well, any assistance, regardless of how great or small, is most assuredly appreciated by all of us.” 

Bronwyn wanted to drop far back the ranger so as to give Elendil a chance to move silently without Bronwyn blowin it for the elf ranger, but Bronwyn could not risk losing sight of Elendil in the dark shadows under the tree cover. She wished she knew the spell Darkvision but she had never considered that spell worth much in her line of work. In normal conditions it was almost useless one to learn. What other spells might she need before this madcap trek through the woods was over. She lists up slick and talks to her.

"Help me keep on the elf's trail."

Bronwyn then set the weasel down on the ground trusting Slick's senses more than her own. The weasel scurried off a few feet and waited for Bronwyn to move forward with the pony in tow. Everything she owned was on that pony for what she wore and a silvered dagger on her belt and two belt pouches the money inside her tunic and the potion pouch on a cord around her neck

Elendil pauses to check the direction of the wind. If they are up wind, or in case they might move into an upwind position she will stop and find some pine branches and rub then all over herself, Bronwyn, and the pony.

“That was amazing,” Artanis murmured to Aelistae after she had woven her spell and repaired the bridge. “Please, thank your Goddess for me, for all the help she has given us throughout our travels.”

The drow priestess cocked her head. She had lost count of how many tendays it had been since she had left the Promenade, and had cast herself in a world that was not forgiving of her kind. She had been spat upon, chased through towns by mobs, and any thanks she had received had been grudging and forced. But Artanis’ words were different. They held the promise of genuine acceptance.

“I…thank you I will,” she managed in response, although the warm smile that played itself over lips said more than any words could.

---

[A short while later…]

“It might be best if I go too,” Aelistae suggested, after Artanis specified the need of eliminating the goblins near the trail. “You’ll need someone with you who can see in this light. But also it makes sense to have some more bodies blocking that trail in case any goblins or orcs try and run through it.”

“If the rest of you can circle around and hit the camp from the other side, we can catch the camp in a cross-fire. It should prevent any organized response.”

Artanis nodded with a warm smile at Aelistae. “Your assistance would be of great help, and very much appreciated. And I certainly agree. We must make sure that none pass down that path.”
She looked in the direction of said path, then looked at Aelistae and the rest quizzically. “I don’t suppose anyone has any ideas of how we can make sure the orcs get taken out as soon as possible, while dispatching the goblins around the camp, and making sure none escape to warn the others, all at the same time?”

As she approached from the east, Intella noticed that two torches in the northeastern quadrant of the camp each had goblins 'hugging" their respective circles of torchlight. They both were also near a larger tent she felt would house the leader or leaders. Picking her concealment carefully, and moving quietly still, she altered her destination slightly, approaching as close as she dared and keeping the two goblins at the outermost limit of her own vision. If they stayed within the areas of light, they would not be able to see her as well as she could see them. This would give her an advantage when she rushed in. If she could take oiut the two goblins and then gain the entrance to the larger tent soon enough, she might delay the occupants from entering the fray until too late.

Briefly, Intella marveled about her sudden, unthinking commitment to such an action. But it was what it was, and she mentally shook her head, continuing to focus on her slow, inching movements in the low foliage, like the Hunting Cobra using smooth, slow, and patient stealth. to approach her intended prey. At least here the cooking meat on the spit wasn't such a distraction to her empty belly. But the lack of a recent meal was also to her advantage. Light hunger sharpened the senses and lent the necessary primal energy to her limbs for the "hunt", as it did for any animal that used stealth, senses, and speed to gain it's next meal.

Xaris listened to the plan that as being formulated. He pondered the latest query, and came up with a simple idea.

" How about I take care of the orcs. Once the trail is covered so no one can escape, I can rush into the camp and engage in combat with the orcs. When the goblins try to run, and they are dead, Artanis you can rush in once the path is clear. Aelistae you can guard the path and Talus can blast anything in sight while skirting the outside. Linnix you could get around the back of the camp and start taking out goblins over there by the tent, Dylan you can attack from the left killing the goblins there, and then we have an attack coming from all sides. north, south, east, and west, all at once. I'll disrupt the center while Talus could kill the goblins at this entrance. If we strike all at once then there will be mass confusion. "

Xaris smiles wryly as he liked his plan. Especially the part where he gets to chop up some goblins. But then something entered his mind and he quickly spoke up.

" But make sure you go wide enough in the woods to not even have a chance to be seen. Don't wanna be spotted, ya know?"

Elendil lead Bronwyn and her pony after the goblin pair as they decended deeper into the wooded area. It was surprising that in the shadows of the Starspire that such fertile soil still supported the thick trunks of the trees which dotted the landscape. Elendil did all she could to follow quietly and in shadow, while Brownyn and her mount followed with the elven guide at the edge of her human vision.

Talon, Elendil's trusty companion circled overhead, the eagle owl circling above, keeping a keen eye out for any possible dangers to its master and her charge. Farther ahead, beyond Elendil's vision but well within the scope of the bird of the night Talon spotted torchfire's being lit and the movement of a mass of individuals. As was typical of such a finding, Talon hooted and screeched, a call that Elendil had come to understand well; and trust beyond what her own senses often told her.

The goblin patrol below also heard the calls of the bird; and though it was not atypical for owls to hunt their pray in these parts, the call had alerted the goblins to an opportunity for something they both longed for; food. Unslinging rough looking slings from their belts, and ladening them with river stones smoothed from years of gentle erosion ,they began to fire them at the circling owl whenever they caught a glimpse of the larger breed of owl. Nine out of ten stones missed by a long shot, or worse still, were fumbled to strike one of the goblins square in the jaw for a painful sting, but one lucky shot caught Talon square in the joint of the wing and its body as it dodged the second stone. The impact was of such incredible misfortune that the great owl fell into a spiral, it's right wing numb and unable to bare the burden of flight. Like a helicopter pod from the great trees of the Wealdath delivering their seeds gently across the lands Talon fell; although much less graceful, with a painful screech and a thud as the bird landed some twenty feet ahead of the goblin pair.

As one congratulated the other on fine marksmenship, the successful slinger puffed out its chest and wriggled it's bare foot once more. "Looks like me keep other shoe tonight ha-ha"

(The goblins had little chance to trike Talon, but one succeeded on a rather high critical hit/chart roll. Elendil may react as she see's fit, I've got her about 30' behind the goblins, and Bronwyn 30' behind her. Both have heard / seen Talon fall, though only Elendil can see the goblins as they are putting their slings away and readying to catch their dinner.)

“Very well,” Aelistae whispered with a nod in Xaris’ direction. “Although be careful. Even Orcs can be dangerous if you underestimate them.”

“As for me,” she added, as she unslung her bow and tested its pull, “I’m going to practice my archery. At least until any goblins wander over to the path to pay me a visit.”

"Sounds good to me. I'll do my best!" Linnix says with a smile.

"If it means anything," Linnix adds, "I definitely find it's much better to use a bow than a hand crossbow. At least you don't have to worry so much about loading it."

”I'll disrupt the center while Talus could kill the goblins at this entrance.”


“I can do that. Are we taking our lead from your charge, Xaris, or are you charging in once we take out the perimeter guards?”
---
Now that he knew what signal to look for to begin the attack, Talus began carefully picking his toward his designated ambush point. Progress was slow because he wanted to be sure he didn’t alert the goblins, but he knew he didn’t have nearly as far to go as Linnix, so he didn’t mind the slow pace.

”I can do that.”
Can I? This will be the first time I’ve premeditated the use of my family’s legacy. Am I becoming my parents, using this power simply because I am capable of wielding it? My targets are goblins and orcs, does ridding the world of evil and cruelty counter the way that I…
The last conversation Talus had had with his father flashed through his mind. He paused as he considered the image that accompanied those words, the last picture he had of his parents.

---

He was at the top of the stairs that led down into the cellar. Father was standing in the doorway but Talus could see past him down to where Mother was standing over someone strapped face down on a table. She took something, the angle didn’t let Talus see exactly what, and placed it on the back of the man’s head, right at the base of the skull. Father realized what his son was watching and closed the door just as the tied man let loose a terrified scream. A sickening crunch stifled the yell just before the door slammed shut.

“You don’t know how close we are to attaining greater levels of power. It is… unfortunate that so many have to suffer for our research, but the knowledge we’re gaining, the potential we could unlock, make this a small sacrifice. You will understand in time, my son. The end goal makes all this worthwhile.”

---

This curse ends with me. I vow never to pass on my parents bloodline and further their so-called research. The means have gone too far…
Talus moved around a tree and nearly stepped into the light of a goblin sentry’s torch. He hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten to the camp while carelessly living in the past. Now he tried to push thoughts of Mulhorand away and focus on the current situation, patiently waiting for the signal to strike.

((Take 10 on hide and move silent))

Xaris thought for a second, and decided on the answer to the question given to him by Talus.

" I'll immediately begin to move in after the first volley is fired. If I move in before that I risk the chance of being flanked and also being hit by the shots fired. But I'll be quick enough so they won't get a chance to rally, don't worry."

Xaris winked and chuckled a bit, hefting his little greatsword onto his shoulder.

" I'll hide just outside the torch light, ready to attack when the first shot is fired. Talus, I think your shot should be the opener, as we can all see it and know what it looks like, then others can follow. We just gotta make sure that everyone is in position before we spring our trap."

(When everyone decides on what should happen, and how we shall decide, Xaris will take ten on slinking to the edge of the torch light, keeping low in the bushes and stuff)

And so it was that on this late eve, or was it early morn of Ches, that a plan was laid in which to ensnare the goblin encampment in a crossfire of spell, arrow and steel. “Let the goblins run the gauntlet of death” Bart had said, a little disheartened that none had thought to include him in the plan of attack. “I will watch over this pass with Talus, providing him with what assistance I may.” With that the farmer swapped his newly acquired pitchfork for the crossbow he had absconded from the bandit what seemed like an eternity ago. As he slid the bolt into the channel with the softest of clicks, his mind recollected on all the memories, grand and travesty that he had experienced with those gathered round. As each slunk off into the brush, he steeled himself for the coming battle, moving along slow and quiet, deliberate of where each foot would fall, cautious of low hanging branches or the odd web of a tree spider across his path.

When each were presumed to be in place, the enhanced vision of Talus letting him pick out Linnix as she settled in near the rear of the encampment, testing the drawstring on her bow, and Xaris who crisscrossed his feet rapidly under his muscular frame, pumping himself up for the rushing advance he was about to embark on right into the heart of the enemy; Talus picked his target instructing Bart to aim for the second goblin by the southern entrance, and let the signal shot fly.

The small ray of purplish black flew across the encampment and struck the intended target flawlessly in the back. Those that could not see the almost invisible assault, so quick and silent was it’s delivery, were only alerted to the beginning of their snare by the scream of pain the goblin let out in response to the sudden jolt it received before its body went limp, lifeless. To compliment Talus’ strike, a hail of projectiles soared into the encampment, catching the occupants, and a nearby Intella by surprise.

From the west Talus’ shot had killed his target outright, while Bartholomew’s crossbow bolt sank into the small of the goblins back, killing the creature before it even realized it had lost the use of its limbs. (Talus hits, Bart critical hits)

In the north Linnix, the silent hunter putting years of her dark past into practice certainly hadn’t lost her touch, as a silent arrow streaked between tents and took the goblin singly in the eye, just as the little wretch turned to let loose his last drink on the grass. Dead before its head hit the topsoil, even for a goblin, the sight of himself caught with his skins down and willy hanging out would have his ghost turning over in its afterlife. (Natural twenty and a confirmed crit)

From the east, rained more death from the skies as a pair of arrows took goblins by surprise, the Eastern sentries taken aback as the feathered fletching of the arrows protruded from their chests. Both cried out in pain, withdrawing further into the encampment, calling out the obvious; that they were indeed under attack!

Dylan, without a means of ranged combat, drew his rapier and slowly stalked his way into the encampment, just as he neared the closest goblin however, an unseen twig snapped underfoot, the sound seemingly extraordinarily loud. As the goblin turned however, it’s attention was diverted to the charging, screaming pint-sized pariah of pain who with a battle-cry ran full on into the center of the camp calling out challenges and insults to all who would hear, drawing as much attention to himself as he could. Using this distraction, Dylan neared his quarry, and struck, but his rapier only penetrated a thin flap of leather under the goblin’s right arm, drawing the creature, and its nearby comrade to the bards attention.

Xaris hurtled himself into the fray, a goblin barely had time to lash out at him as he passed within arm’s length, but the morningstar caught nothing but air. As Xaris neared the orc however, it’s wolf companion sought to pounce Xaris, ending his charge where he fell, but the little guy would not be deterred, ducking his lead shoulder just that much lower as the wolf ended up behind him and Xaris barreled, Greatsword leading into the orc, the force of his mighty little blade running the Orc through, the larger, heftier creature’s eyes of black squinting in the firelight at the blanched terror which had just came like a ghost on the wind and ended its life.

Intella with chaos erupting in the camp, snuck easily as the death screams of goblin kind sung rhapsody to her ears. Slipping behind the nearest goblin, twin Sianghams flashed, puncturing the upper and lower back of the goblin in unison. The pain was brief, death came quickly, and quietly as with but a gasp of final breath did the creature fall.

The assault had been executed nearly flawlessly, certainly better than any could have hoped for. The Goblins panicked, but the remaining Orc rallied them well, shouting out orders on pain of death. The goblins, cowardly as they were, with only a trio of targets did what they did best, and relied on their numbers to swarm those they could reach.

Xaris, for all his shouting had done what he had set out to do, for a quartet of goblins and a hungry wolf all bore down upon him with morningstar and fang, javelin and claw. Xaris took the blows that fell upon him, felt the sting of blunt weapons strike, and the pain of a claw slash across his legs, but he would not be stopped. None could escape. One of the goblin, so unsettled by the strange pale gnome before him actually splintered his javelin on Xaris’ armor, the crude implement rendered useless. (Xaris 52/61)

Intella too, new to the foray had stepped into something akin to the remnants of a hounds last meal some hours later, for a trio of foes approached. A goblin, an easy foe she wagered, his commander the orc bellowing orders and the literal lapdog of a wolf who salivated at the thought of savoring Hin flesh. With claw, javelin and battleaxe they came, and Intella bid them a welcome challenge. Neatly, like stepping across stones across a pond the halfling monk side stepped a javelin thrust, then hopped over a sweeping claw of the wolf. It was the orcish captain however who surprised her with more conditioning than she expected as the orc, benefitting from its flanking companions swung out with its axe wrapped in leather and baring many notches in the hilt, the blade catching the woman across the right shoulder drawing a line of crimson. (Intella 29/36)

Dylan, lover of tales and spinner of song was perhaps at the most disadvantage as a trio of his own adversaries approached, their cruel weapons complimented with wicked grins of malice and hunger. As the goblins surrounded the bard they struck as one, and Dylan ducked and wove as best he could, avoiding two thrusting javelins, the third clipping his right thigh. (Dylan 24/28hp)

~~~~
Round Two

As far as most could tell, the plan was going as intended, and with the momentum of the first strike, they pressed the attack further. More arrows rained in from the shadows and more goblins fell. The two previously wounded by Aelistae and Artanis did not survive the second volley, and combination of eldritch blast and crossbow bolt felled a fleeing goblin making its way to the south before it ever left the illumination of torchlight. Linnix barely spotted a goblin trying to pick its way through the trees to escape and gave chase, placing an arrow in the fleeing creature’s shoulder for good measure though the damn thing didn’t want to seem to just lie down and die like she had hoped.

Xaris, still in the middle of the encampment, could barely see the other orc engaging something across the campfire, though he couldn’t make out who or what it was; nor did he have time with so many foes around. With a tightened grip, he arced his broad blade around him, catching a unwary goblin right under the chin, the sharp blade removing the lower portion of his jaw and sending him spiraling away to a bloody death. Even as the others attacked once more. Xaris, agile, small, and using every lack of inches to his advantage avoided all of the goblin attacks, but it was the wolf who struck him again, sharp claws seeking to trip and displace the gnome who just would not go down. (Xaris 50/61)

Intella too put up a valiant struggle in the face of adversity. Seeking to lessen her opponents advantage of numbers as quickly as possible, she struck out again with twin sianghams, the small needle like weapons driving into the goblin on her left, a howl of pain enough to cause the greenskin to break rank and flee, which was all the reason the disciple of the hin fist needed to place a couple more puncture wounds in the cowardly creature’s back, ending his flight a mere stride from his original position. The orc, enraged threatened Intella with bodily harm, pain of death, and all manner of unpleasantries, but the monk’s focus was on avoiding that blade, and she did so amicably , though the wolf’s fang lined maw caught her by the shin, and threatened to bring her down though she resisted, much to the pain of herself. (Intella 24/ 36)

Dylan, poor Dylan, alone, outnumbered, and just trying to keep himself from being a pincushion took a 5' step back to give himself what little room he may, and struck the goblin on his immediate left. His finely crafted rapier punctured leather flesh, and muscle tissue like an arrow through a goblin’s eye, or a siangham through a goblin’s back, a bolt through a spinal column, well, you get the idea. So perfect was the strike that the Goblin hadn’t even felt the first of its heart’s last pumps until after Dylan had removed his blade from the wound, blood running down the fine enchanted steel. The goblin slumped over clutching its chest, its last thoughts a curse at never getting to taste the elf on the spit. The other goblins were shocked at the sudden display of swordsmanship, and took a couple 5' steps back of their own. Looking at one another, they raised their javelin’s and let them fly, both projectiles barely scraping the bard as they clumsily passed, the goblins already ducking behind their light shields while retrieving crude morningstars–really shod wooden shafts with metal shrapnel and scraps protruding from the end in a clump. They said something to one another in goblinoid that Dylan couldn’t understand, and that only gave him more cause for concern. (Dylan 22/28hp)


Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, the sounds of a war drum began to beat, loud and strong from the large tent at the north of the camp. Though noone or nothing exited the fur lined entranceway, the sound was a powerful beat, one that unfortunately could be heard for some distance..

(And there we have it at the end of round two. The following is a map showing a rough visual time line of movement and events for your hopeful convenience.)