Heading after the goblin, Linnix quickly spots its path, trying to find it as it heads into the distance. No you don't! I can't let you get away! I can't fail! Linnix thinks frantically as she draws back her bow and fires another shot after the running goblin, hoping to fell it.

The drum in the background, despite being a slow beat, sets Linnix's heart racing. She had to stop it, but it might already be too late...

Intella knew that she could not pre-empt an attack and betray those who did not know she was here, so she waited until something, anything, signaled for her to move. Expectant as she was, she still hesitated a fraction of a second at the ferocity of what she witnessed as her "signal". And the near-immediate screams of terror from the goblins held both both humour and warning for her. That fraction of a second may have saved her furhter injury, or even death, as she saw the volley of arrow fly into the camp from all angles.

Then she moved, sharply drawing breath to let loose the Harpies Warble. This was intended to confuse the goblins and also to let others know someone else, a non-goblin, was near. Her first strike, the Cobra's Bite at the back of the nearest golin, was satisfyingly quick, silent and effective, and she silenced her warble at the goblins fall. The honor of battle-etiquette, meeting these moving bits of offal face-to-face, would be wasted on them. No, she knew their tactics and would do battle their way, but without the cowardice.

Then she turned to see the trio approaching her. A wolf was in the lead, with a goblin next who was throwing a javelin. And, of course, the orc commander in the rear, "protected" by the delaying tactics of his two lackeys. Her size, agility, and training allowed her to bend-step to avoid the javelin as a Reed in the Wind. The slashing paw of the wolf's attempt to sweep out her own legs was avoided also by leaping over it in the Mongoose Style, bent at the waist with hands and weapons held down and forward at knee level. Her error in style, though, was made evident when the orc's axe gashed the back of her unprotected and exposed right shoulder, opening satin, skin, and PAIN!  Intella was barely able to contain a scream, instead grimacing and hissing through clenched teeth at the Orc, as if inviting him to try that again ...

The slow, rhythmic booms of the drum hit her. Like low, straining heartbeats, they would be easily heard in the relatively quiet night for some distance. She knew it had to be stopped, and soon! But she was not the one to do it -- not yet. A quick, silent, and fervent wish for Yondalla's protection, wisdom, and strength before ...

Rolling away from the axe blade's return path, she inadvertently moved into stiking range of the goblin, who had moved in to flank her from the left. She silently praised Yondalla the Protector for both the guidance and the shocked look on the goblin's face as he realized his plan had not worked -- at all. She was only able to puncture him shallowly with both siangham tips, but when he turned to run, she was able to take that decisive step toward him to end his flight with two more wounds to the creatue's back.

The pain in her shoulder was a lesson well learned. She dropped and spun low, avoiding another contact with the surprisingly sharp blade of the weapon. But that avoidance left her vulnerable from another quandrant. The wolf, also had flanked her from the other side and sank its powerful teeth into Intella's shin and calf. If the animal could pull her prone, she would be in grave danger from the orcish axe!

The pain of the new wound, and the animals persistent attempt to pull her down left her no real choice. She had to free her leg to fight at optimum efficiency. She knew that this would weaken her defense to attacks from the orc, but she had to do it, if only briefly. Knowing that what she would attempt would increase the pain in her leg immensely, she steeled herself for it, for it would also mean freedom to move if successful.

Attempting the Badger's Roll, she dropped her body toward her own back. At the same time, she pulled her captured leg, and the wolf's slavering maw, up toward her chest, pulling herself under the wolf's chin and placing that large head between her and the orc's axe. Reaching up from below, she attempts to drive both siangham into the wolf's eyes and into the brain.

[[ Two-Weapon attack (as usual) and ALSO Two-Weapon Defense for the wolf's paws, for an additional +1 shield bonus to AC. Gotta make the best of things for this round. While she would like to use Decisive Strike here, her strategy precludes the full- round requirement that would invite AOO in her current situation ... ]]

Dylan found himself with too much time on his hands to resist second guessing himself, but not nearly enough time to think about his situation. He leapt out after the firing ended and put his rapier to use against the nearest goblins, acutely aware of this contradiction in his nature. Though Dylan didn't like to identify himself as a coward, he did admit that he had a 'healthy sense of self-preservation'. A sense which told him that he shouldn't have volunteered for such an isolated position in the least, and questioned every decision recently made on the broader scale.

For the next few moments, there was little to think about and much to do, as he fended off his opponents with limited success. He was none too worried off the start of his battle, being quite thick of body and tough. Even still, it wouldn't do to dance around like a fool waiting to be skewered, so he nearly sighed as his luck suddenly turned. The precision of the blade strike through the goblin's chest was so clean that it must have seemed to the other goblins as though the man had some skill with a blade after all. The joke was on them, but they weren't done with, now fetching more crude weapons to do battle with.

Dylan took advantage of his momentary reprieve to consider his position. He wasn't lying when he told the others that he was something of a friend of lady luck, he had rarely been in any situation which he could rectify with a little improvisation. Good luck seemed to follow him, waiting on the side lines to give him a little boost, or perhaps it was his adaptability and readiness to take what life sent him. Either way, he learned to take what luck brought him and to turn a little bad luck around. He dug into his pouch and drew a small pair of wooden dice. He opened his hand to look at them, resting on his palm as a six and a one. With a smile he closed his fist again, and drew back with a flourish and called aloud. "I think it's about time I had some luck!" Against the steady thrumming of the drum his voice was small, but the power of his words was not to be mistaken, as he cast the dice into the air, beginning to glow seconds before they dematerialized.

With this new resource at his hand- an intangible pool of luck, Dylan quickly put moved himself to the left goblin, forcing the one to the right to manoeuver around his comrad. The last thing he wanted was to have to fight them with one constantly at his back.

(Improvisation: 5 rounds [just cast] / 10 points)
If either tries to sneak around me to flank, I'll spend two points on the attack roll to take him out, otherwise I'll keep them reserved for if I start to really need them.

Two arrows thudded into the midriff of the goblin, sending it spinning through the air and coming to a final rest upon the cold earth. There was no gloating or moment of exultation from Aelistae. She found little pleasure in killing creatures that individually posed her little harm, and she was more concerned with how the battle was going elsewhere.

She could see the whole battlefield in the familiar greys of her darkvision. Almost a dozen goblins and orcs had fallen in the first seconds of their attack. It even seemed for a moment as if the creatures were turning on each other, until Aelistae realized that the tiny creature doing the goblins harm was a halfling rather than a goblin. The diminutive figure fought well, her every movement filled with twisting feints and penetrating counters.

But then the tide seemed to turn. The orc who hadn’t been felled barked commands to rally the goblinoids, and a heavy drum began to beat in answer.

“Xsa!” Aelistae exclaimed, recognizing the danger that drum posed if the still night air carried it to the other goblin camps.

“Artanis!” she added, “Aim for the orc! Try to bring it down. I’ll silence the drum.”

Her words fell into quiet melodic prayer, as she tried to do just that.


[OOC: ‘Xsa’ is a little rude, so I won’t bother translating it.

Aelistae is going to cast ‘Silence’ and centre the spell on the tent in which the drum is beating. After that she’ll try to shoot the orc and keep an eye out for any sign of goblins approaching from the trail behind her.]

Xaris charged into the battle with his sword held high, and he watched the sheer horror on on his enemies faces as the ghost like gnome ran through the orc with little trouble at all. He gave a slight smile as he pulled his blade free, the orc falling onto the ground into a pool of his own fluids.

Immediately the goblins around him circled and pummeled him with their diminutive weapons, and he could only be over joyed that he was taking the blows instead of his friends. He was glad he could be there to tie up these worthless creatures, and he fought on with such a ferocity that he hoped he could hold their attention as the camp fell apart around them.

He hefted his blade from right to left, cleanly loosening the jaw from a goblin as it slumped to the ground, twitching as it came to terms of its own death. He recoiled in a defensive position, and the goblins faltered, seeing their comrades fall. But the wolf, to dumb to comprehend morale or being outmatched, found some luck and ripped into Xaris, puncturing the snowy white skin of the gnome, letting loose a brief crimson wave from his leg.

Xaris Gritted his teeth, and thought about how his family felt when they were being put to the blade by goblins such as these, and thought about how many captured and tortured forest animals were used in battle like this poor wolf. His anger built up the more he thought, and he let out a burst of anger in a mighty yell, and let his anger take him over, bringing down a mighty blow onto the wolf, hopefully ending it's life quickly , liberating it from a lifestyle of starvation and captivity.

All the while the drums in the background subconciously edged him on, the sounds building up his adreneline. He knew he needed to silence the drums, but could'nt, and hoped one of his other party members could stop the drums menacing beat.

The initial assault went exactly as planned, the first unfortunate targets dropped without any difficulty. The ease of the attack was almost to good to be true.

Then the drums began to beat.

"Those drums will ruin any future chance of surprise. Bartholomew, can you watch my portion of the perimeter?" The question was nearly rhetorical, since Talus was moving toward the main pavilion even as he spoke.

Rounding one of the smaller tents, the warlock discovered that not every aspect of the ambush had gone as well as he had thought. Xaris was buried in a fray with a few remaining goblins and one of the hunting wolves. There was someone else, likely either Dylan or Linnix, is the same predicament as Xaris.

Not wanting to get caught up in more fighting while the drums blared on, Talus launched a bolt of eldritch energy at the nearest orc and continued on to get a better view into the main tent.

Battle was in full swing now. With the addition of the war drum’s steadily beating their call into the night came a new sense of urgency. The need to silence the rhythmic tempo which would usher their doom took a new priority, and all moved to try and reach the tent housing the noise as soon as they were able.

Most however, would find the ‘able’ part a bit forthcoming unfortunately, as they battled on outnumbered, but not outmatched. Xaris, the drums edging his native senses and driving his primal existence took each thrumming as his own war call, and as his thought drifted into bitter memories, he let the anger that swelled before him be his guide, his striking blue pupil’s and white iris; flaring with intensity as he fell into a rage. In a mighty hack, he brought his bloody blade down across the wolf’s back, the gnomish great-sword driving deep and etching bone, ending the creature’s life in a single blow. Xaris couldn’t help but realize just how easy this all was. With fire in his veins he felt like he could take down the entire encampment by himself. (20 for Xaris)

The goblins however had other plans. As they had with Dylan, they each took a 5'step back, out of the reach of Xaris’ shorter blade, and hurled their javelin’s; truely little more than sharpened branches. Both javelin’s came clumsily toward’s the ghostly white gnome, sheer momentum carrying them more than anything resembling a skill at craftsmanship. The first glanced sideways off of Xaris’ newly obtained armor, while the second splintered on impact with Xaris’ upturned blade, the shards of pine drawing a faint line of red and pain akin to parchment-cuts as a minuscule piece of the weapon stuck in Xaris’ cheek. (Xaris 49/61hp) And like Dylan, each were prying free crude implements of pain, salvaged from some discarded remnants of steel and iron.

Linnix, hot on the trail of the fleeing goblin could still hear the war drums ringing loud and clear through the still night air. She prayed the others would be alright as she chased the goblin deeper into the woodlands, firing off another arrow, missing a remaining wound, but glancing his trailing calf sending him screaming into the night. (2damage) Aggravated and fearing his rousing of others she gave chase once more.

Dylan, now bolstered with an intangible pool of luck, stepped lightly, hoping to take down the goblin’s one at a time. Luck was a fickle lady perhaps, for the goblins did not seem to want to play by the same rules as Dylan, for both came on at once, their crude morning stars coming in hard.. Harder than anything he had ever felt before in his life. It was as though twin boulder’s had collided and he unfortuantely was in the middle. (Dylan 4/28hp) (For the record both goblins critical hit Dylan. For another record I rolled the dice seconds after Ginafae mentioned how funny it would be for Dylan to get beat up by goblins) His world spinning, blood dripping from his nose, Dylan had to shake away the fuzzy vision, for his opponents were not done yet.

Talus told Bart to watch the southern trail, and the farmer turned warrior nodded his supplication and loaded another bolt into his crossbow. The warlock however sought to get closer to the cause of the drumbeats, and moved as close as he could mindful to stay out of sight. (Double movement) Bart however head the cry of pain, of human pain that he knew was from one of his own, and could not sit idly by. He moved behind the nearest tent, and seeing the dazed Dylan, took aim and fired. The bolt streaked across the night like a deadly assassin. So perfect was the strike that it not only penetrated the first goblin’s neck, but imbedded itself in the second, slightly taller goblin’s shoulder causing him to wail in pain and drop his crude weapon. Dylan could only wonder if Tymora was teasing him as the farmer of all people executed a strike that would inspire the most skilled of rangers.(DM note, Bart the critical-hit farmer of doom has scored double 20's, and a nice high roll on the critical chart as well)

Aelistae knew that she was the only viable option for squelching the beat of the drums, and so with a calling upon divine countenance she ushered in a field of silence, centered on the tent. The moment her last word ended so too did the sound of the drum. Aside her, Artanis had taken up her bow once more, moving forward and into the light of a nearby torch, the light behind her no longer a hindrance to her accuracy. Pulling back Loriel’s old bow once more, a reminder of the ranger’s skill with the weapon came to mind, and Artanis was no novice herself. Years of training held her aim true, despite the moving target in combat with another, possible ally. The arrow struck true, catching the orc in the shoulder as he swung for Intella, the shock of pain throwing off the swing, the edge of the blade missing the nimble monk by a solid half inch.

Intella, not missing the fact that an arrow from her left had just spared her a likely world of hurt took the opportunity to lunge at the wolf, hands extended with leading siangam’s. The wolf was ready apparently, as with a backwards hop it crouched back on its haunches out of reach, before lunging back in itself for a strike, its powerful maw snapping at only air, as Intella like a coiled snake swayed aside of the strike, ready to counter once more.

Round 2.

Linnix was having just about enough of this cat and mouse game she and the lone goblin were playing. Seemingly sensing this, the goblin turned, and hurled a javelin where he thought Linnix to be, but she was already on the move. Taking up her bow one last time, her arrow released, the hum of the projectile the last thing the greenskin heard as it was impaled to the tree behind it, life fast fleeting. With a nod of satisfaction, Linnix would return to the others. (A 20 for Linnix as well..)

It was the Orc upon Intella who struck next, his vicious battleaxe leading. Intella swayed back, thinking herself clear of the blow, but the orc deftly let the length of the handle slide out through his hands, gripping only the very edge of the pommel so as to catch the monk above the brow; the sting of pain and the feeling of warmth as it dribbled down her face a testament to her opponent’s skill. (Intella 19/36hp)

Talus had moved into a more advantageous position ready to move closer to the pavillion when the sound of the drums stopped suddenly. He didn’t know exactly what it meant, he prayed it was a positive thing, but he did know that someone was distracting an Orc and its wolf nearby, and could use some assistance. Keeping clear of any immediate danger, he let fly his eldritch blast the dark bolt of energy striking the orc in the opposite shoulder of Artanis’ arrow. The orc howled in anger, fueled by his rage, but that rage would not last long. Not if the half-elven warrior had anything to say about it.

Having dropped her bow, and drawing her bastard sword mid charge, Artanis, having had just about enough of sitting on the sidelines, and into the fray she went with a warcry of her own. She charged brazenly into battle with the orc, her charge adding strength and momentum behind her swing. Her fine bastard sword gleamed in the firelight, and when she pulled it free from the abdomen of the fell creature before her, she needed to place her boot to his chest to push him free, so deep was her weapon. As the orc fell, her eyes fell upon Intella for the first time in detail, but the little one was too focused on the task at hand to simply stand around on display. Without fear of repercussion from the orc at her side, she was able to focus her attention on a single debilitating strike to her enemy. Her twin sianghams came in as one, an extension of her arm as the wolf lunged to strike, the piercing battle-needles taking the lupine through the mouth and eye, settling nicely into the soft cushioning of its brain. Intella could actually retrieve her weapons and look on at her opponent for a couple seconds before the wolf’s body reacted to the fact that it was dead. (Decisive strike with two weapon fighting 1 critical 1 hit)

Xaris, still in the midst of his rage, had taken with is bellows much of the bluster from the goblins. When a second well placed crossbow bolt struck the goblin on his left, Xaris all-to-happily sought to eviscerating the second with another swing of his sword.

The drum silenced, at least for now Aelistae turned her darkvision upon Dylan. Though Bart had disguarded one of his assailants, the wounded minstrel was still not out of the woods as the accurate cliche would put it. Drawing up her bow once more, the drow loosed an arrow which took the goblin, and Dylan by surprise, for his eyes could not hope to make out his rescuer in the gloom of night though instinct told him who it was.

And then, as sudden as it had started, the battle was over. A score of dead adversaries littered the battlefield, and the drum’s no longer beat their savage chant. With no immediate threat around him, Xaris’ bloodrage subsided, leaving him fatigued, his overzealous charge taking much out of him. Some were wounded, one more than the rest, but at least for the time danger did not seem imminent, though the main pavilion and other tent’s would need be searched, and likely a withdrawl for a time, lest others come to investigate.


(OK, not having my dice on hand I used RDI, which was really favoring natural 20s tonight. Anyways, you’ve got a free moment to make plans concerning what to do next.)

Once all were in agreement as to the best plan of action Artanis moved with Aelistae to their posts at the north-eastern pathway leading toward the next goblin camp. Artanis readied her bow, aiming at the gobling nearest her, and silently awaited the signal.

With the flash of light that was their queue, everyone burst into full attack mode. Artanis and Aelistae let fly their arrows. Artanis saw that the arrows found their marks, but hadn’t taken out the foul creatures just yet. So she quickly notched a second arrow and sent that one sailing straight into the damnable creature. With a satisfied nod, she watched as the goblin hit the ground, lifeless. She smiled at Aelistae in acknowledgement of her success as well.

A quick count told Artanis there remained only 6 goblins, 2 wolves, and an Orc. “That is of course, provided there are no unseen enemies lurking inside these tents”
Even as the thought went through her mind, Artanis’ attention was immediately drawn to the large tent to the north end of the camp, as a loud, deep drumming sliced through the relative silence of the night.

“Artanis!” Aelistae’s voice cut through the deep volume of the drumming, “Aim for the orc! Try to bring it down. I’ll silence the drum.”
Before Aelistae had spoken her last word, Artanis shot off an arrow aiming for the Orc. Before the arrow had found its mark in the Orc’s shoulder, she had dropped her bow and charged the Orc, while drawing her sword. By the time she reached the Orc, she had both hands firmly griping the hilt of her blade. She swung her weapon with all her might, burying it deep within the Orc’s body. With a look of digsust for the creature, mixed with pleasure at the completion of her goal, she pushed the dead Orc’s body off her blade. Then she turned to and smiled brightly at the Halfling. ”Greetings, little one!”

Aelistae rushed into the clearing, her silvery hair trailing behind her. She was tempted to converse with the halfling she had spied earlier, or tend to the wounds of her companions, but she knew that she had precious little time. If the sound of the drum had carried before it had been silenced, then the whole area would be crawling with goblinoids in a matter of minutes.

“We have to be quick,” she commented in an urgent tone as she neared where Artanis and the halfling woman stood. “We should check the orcs, and the tents in which the filthy creatures stayed. They may have something of value, or something to explain what’s leading them. But then we need to leave this place. More goblins or orcs could be on their way.”

Aelistae’s drow eyes settled for a moment upon the halfling, as she slung her bow across her shoulder and drew her sword. “I wish there were time for longer introductions, Sister, but I can assure you I mean you no harm. If you wish to come with us when we leave this place then you’re welcome to do so. If not, then I thank you for the help you gave.”

The drow priestess nodded at the halfling, before turning to the largest of the tents and entering inside.


[Aelistae is going to have a look at what was the cause of the drumming sound. I’ll decide what to do, when and if I know the answer. ]

"Gotcha!" Linnix smugly murmurs as the goblin is impaled into a tree by her last shot.

Hearing the sound of the drum disappear entirely, Linnix quickly turns back toward the camp. Did that mean the source was already stopped, or was there something else behind it? Well, no matter, she'd just have to check herself. Linnix quickly retraces her steps back to the camp, specifically to the big tent, while drawing a dagger from her hip with her right hand, keeping a hold on her bow with her left.

"Alright, let's see who was beating that thing." Linnix murmurs to herself.

With dagger in hand, Linnix cuts a small (large enough for her to shoot through, but no larger than that really) hole in the side of the tent, and takes a look inside.

"Bronwyn," she hisses in a fast low voice, "Goblin's, they dropped Talon."

Then hoping to cause a distraction she strides to thet edge of the trail and yells out in Goblin, "We've been attacked. Get to the keep, or Bolikar'll have your guts.

At this Elendil drops low and retreats back to about 20 off from the trail and runs through the edge of the woods to where Talon had fallen. Her heart is racing and she hopes her ruse works because she does not think she can take all of them and Bronwyn was no fighter. She is hoping the Goblins’ fear of this Bolikar was enough to have them leave immediately and not take the time to try do anything about Talon. She slings her bow and draws her sword, ready should any of the Goblins try to take up Talon, That would delay him, if the others run off. Talon might be down but he was not defenseless, his great talons were still deadly dangerous.

The drow woman looked briefly at she who saved Intella, and at Intella herself, stating simply, “We should check the orcs, and the tents in which the filthy creatures stayed. They may have something of value, or something to explain what’s leading them. But then we need to leave this place. More goblins or orcs could be on their way.”
Intella blinked, a bit taken aback, and hesitated before nodding acknowledgement in return to the dark elven female. How could they have known she was here? Did they know she was here?
Placing her sianham on the ground on either side of her, she shook her head and took the time to unwind a narrow sash wrapping one knee of her pantaloons to bind her leg wound. Then unwound another one from the other knee to bind he gash on her forehead. Her shoulder would have to wait, for now. Intella looked up at the warrior woman who had skewered the orc so forcefully, then spoke as she bound her wounds, grunting and wincing periodically, "May Yondalla bless you and yours for the aid you provided in protecting one of her -- ah! -- children! We will speak later, for I fear -- mmm! -- no harm from any of you. I intend to come with you but, --ahh'AH! -- for now, -- mmf! -- the dark one is right; speed is the essence of survival."

Picking up her siangham and making sure the sunrods were still in her siangham sheaths, she darted to the south to check the (southeastern) tent for occupants or useful items ...

(OOC: Now how tired was Jeanne/Bri. Well she posted her actions in Q&A. So I move it for her.)

"Goblins," Browyn heard what Elendil said with a shock. She takes out her precious wand of magic missiles that hee mentor Elenore had made for her and gripped it firmly. At the same time she prepares magic missile spell which is really more effective than her wand is.

Here she was wishing she was many miles away from her, either at home, or in her old mentor's snug cottage, anywhere, but in this dark forest in the middle of nowhere with goblins all about her.

Bronwyn looked frantically around and when she saw Elendil disappear into the forest. she took a step forward not wanting to be left alone. Leading her pony forward she held out the wand ready to use at anything that came after her or her pony. Buttercup had everything she own of value carefully packed onto her back. She moved in close to Buttercup standing at her neck and guiding though the woods.

Only where. She couldn't see Elendil any more and her cautious nature kept her from calling out to the elven ranger. Bronwyn gripped the lead rope tightly almost frozen with indecision. All she could do was stand there and listen for any tell-tale sound that might mean a goblin is about. HE eyes search the dark woods for any sign of movement any hint of sound to forewarn her.

Talon had fallen like a rock out of the sky, it’s one good wing only serving to spiral the decent instead of a vertical drop. With the thump of bird on earth the goblin’s had begun their celebration, but to Elendil it was a premature celebration that would not bare any fruit to their labor, not as long as she still drew breath. Striding closer to the edge of the trail, she yelled at them in as authoritative a manner as she could muster. "We've been attacked. Get to the keep, or Bolikar'll have your guts.”

Her words were filled with conviction and authority, but the tone of her word’s the accent she held and could not readily hide gave the goblin’s means to pause; to look at one another and toward’s their fallen meal, even as Elendil made a dash for her companions, hoping her ruse had bought her some time....

Meanwhile back at the goblin encampment, Linnix had made her way back into the north of the camp, a small dagger ready to make short work of the canvas tent which blocked her target or targets from view. Aelistae meanwhile approached the front of the tent, sword drawn and entered ready to face whatever might await her.

As Linnix put an eye to her peep-hole, she could only make out Aelistae across the tent in her limited scope of vision, but Aelistae was met with a sight much more ... or perhaps less was a better term than she had anticipated. In the corner of the tent, lined with furs and barrels, a footlocker and a pair of beds lined with skins and pelts was a massive pair of drums, easily four feet tall, wooden, with canvas tops bound in twine and adorned with feathers, small bones and other small ornaments. Behind the drums was the real shocker, A child, half-orcish by appearance, with a squat face a pale complexion with hints of grey and green in th pigmentation no larger, or older in age than the boy Marcus they had met some time earlier hid behind the drums, his hands firmly gripping his only means of defense. A pair of solid wooden sticks with balls of bound canvas and feathers near the end of their one and a half foot long shafts. He shook his head as he regarded the priestess, and stood tall, though the fear in his eyes betrayed his attempt at bravery.

He motioned to speak something, but no word’s came from his lips, he pounded on the drums as though showing Aelistae he was doing as he was told, but no sound came forth. A look of confusion and fear covered most of his expression, like a deer caught in the flash of a daylight spell. All the while his mouth moved, blabbering away in some silent tongue about some unknown subject that wouldn’t come to be heard.

... It would seem that Bolikar, whoever it was, held enough respect, or reason to be feared that one of the goblin’s took off down the path, right passed where Elendil had stood and barked her order’s just a moment before, and right down the path and into the line of Bronwyn’s surprise. The mage, unaccustomed to the low light of the moon, didn’t make out the goblin’s form until it was almost right upon her, and the goblin, too much in a hurry to respond to its order’s didn’t bother looking up until the same point. Upon instinct Bronwyn uttered the command word of her wand, the single dart of pale blue force slamming into the goblin and spinning it round in pain and confusion before it looked up and grimaced through blood spattered lips. “Huume! I keeell you!” With that, he pulled a javelin free from his back sling and threw it at Bronwyn, but the poor projectile flew wide of its mark landing harmlessly across the path.

The other goblin however, wasn’t about to give up a perfectly good meal that was so near its grasp, and so, with a quick jaunt, he ran to and picked up the still form of Talon, unconscious from the impact with the unwelcome earth. The goblin lifted the owl, and licked its lips, turning to come face to face with an elf and the sword she wielded, the enchanted blade catching the surprised goblin across his upper right arm, his reaction to recoil and drop his spoils in response to the new threat. He cursed something Elendil understood to mean something along the lines of having intercourse with a spruce in its native tongue, and drew a javelin in response, the two staring each other down, Talon’s unmoving form between them on the cool earthen battlefield.

Back at the campsite, Intella and some of the others began searching the tents to uncover any hidden threats, or bounty for their efforts here. Intella’s search revealed a cloak, much too large for her made from the pelt of a skinned wolf, it’s facial coverings serving as a cowl or mask. She also uncovered four beeswax candles, a simple knife, and three coppers propping up an uneven corner of the birchwood frame baring straw and furs as bedding.

The others, in their brief search turned up much of the same, which was to say nothing of great value. A few glass beads, a pair of knucklebone dice, and a combined total of 11 silver and 25 coppers for their efforts. The only item of any mention perhaps were the axes the orc’s carried. Both seemed of reasonable quality, and both bore the carving of a wolf’s head howling at a full moon in the background etched and painted into the steel of the axe head. The search of the campsite turned up many items and standards bearing this insignia, likely a clan name or some other mark of family or bond.

“We have to be quick. We should check the orcs, and the tents in which the filthy creatures stayed. They may have something of value, or something to explain what’s leading them. But then we need to leave this place. More goblins or orcs could be on their way.”
Artanis nodded in agreement with Aelistae. “Agreed.”
She was about to turn to do just that when she noted that the tiny woman was struggling with bandaging herself up. Artanis stooped to help in any way she could with the unpleasant task. Artanis winced and grimaced along with the little one, as if she could feel the pain right along with her. Once the task was somewhat hastily completed, the little woman looked up at Artanis and said:

"May Yondalla bless you and yours for the aid you provided in protecting one of her -- ah! -- children! We will speak later, for I fear -- mmm! -- no harm from any of you. I intend to come with you but, --ahh'AH! -- for now, -- mmf! -- the dark one is right; speed is the essence of survival."
With that, Artanis went about checking the tents and fallen corpses. There was not much to find, a bit of money and a few useless items. The only things of any value, as far as she could tell, were the axes the Orcs had wielded. Upon closer inspection, she noticed the carving of the wolf howling at the moon. She saw that several other items also had a similar marking. Artanis looked up toward the keep, then back at the markings. “I wonder if these came from the keep.”
Noticing that Aelistae and Linnix were not among the group, she dropped the few items she had in her hands, into a pile, and quickly made her way to the large tent to see what had been keeping Aelistae.

Artanis breathed a quiet sigh of relief when she saw that Aelistae was fine. She noticed her looking at something, and turned to see what it was. She was quite surprised to see a young boy of apparent orcish decent standing behind a set of large drums. He appeared to be trying to say something, but no sound was coming from his mouth.

Artanis wasn’t quite sure what to make of the boy, but she knew they had to do what they were going to do and get out of there real quick.

She turned to look at Aelistae and tried to speak, but no sound came out of her lips either. Artanis motioned for Aelistae's attention, then motioned to step outside the tent.

(Assuming that Aelistae complies) Artanis stood in the doorway of the tent, keeping an eye on the boy as she spoke to Aelistae.

"We've already searched the tents, and bodies. We need to get the boy, find Linnix, and get out of here now! As far as we know there could be others on their way here as we speak."