With the temporary lull in combat, Talus again began moving towards the pavilion. He circled out and around the small tepee between him and his goal so that he wouldn't walk directly in front of the opening to either of the tents and readied an eldritch blast, unsure of what he would discover inside.

Taking a few quick, measured breaths to calm his nerves Talus pushed through the tent flap a few moments after Aelistae. Putting his back to the priestess Talus scanned the interior of the tent for the ambushers he was certain should be hiding here. Nothing. The warlock turned to ask Aelistae if she knew what had happened when he caught sight of the half-breed boy futilely trying to coax some sound from the massive drums. Thankfully the silencing spell stifled his laugh at the boy’s situation, because Talus couldn’t tell if the half-orc has ready to cry or recklessly charge at them. Talus decided to stay put and take his cues from Aelistae on how to deal with the potentially dangerous youth, but he was going to keep his eldritch power readied in case the kid did something rash.

--

Artanis entered the tent then and, after trying to speak, motioned for the priestess to follow her outside where communication wouldn't be hindered. Talus took a step to follow, but then looked to the boy and stopped. He wanted to listen in on the planning, but someone would have to stay here and make sure the would-be drummer didn't escape out the back of the tent and warn the other encampments.

Talus' shoulders rose and fell in what would have been a resigned sigh, had there been any sound to go with the motion. "So this is working with a group." he mouthed, knowing that any comments would never be heard, "Half-breed guard duty. Oh well, Bad with the Good."

Hmm, if Aelistae's already in there, I'd better move fast to cover her. Linnix thinks.

Bringing her dagger to bare yet again, Linnix moves quickly to make short work of the tent's side, slashing open a flap which could easily be a minor doorway. What was on the other side? An ogre with an equally large drum and mallet to match? Or what else could it be? Well, standing and doing nothing but thinking isn't going to help; Linnix takes a breath and steps through her makeshift entrance, sheathing her dagger as she does so, so she may use her bow if needed.

A cold smile lifts the corners of her lips as she faces a favored enemy. Her hate of Goblins had started when she was a child, when a mob of them came upon she and her friends in the forest and in fighting to get free, her best friend was killed. To this day Goblins were an anthema to Eledil.

Elendi pressed the goblin away from Talon and swung with all her precision and might to kill it with this blow.

Bronwyn watches in horror as the goblin warrior threatens to kill her and heaves his spear right at her. She grips her wand and speaks the arcane word to trigger the wand to deliver yet another arcane bolt of energy. The sparkling speck if eldritch energy flew swiftly from the end of her wand at the terrifying goblin who threatened her life.

Bronwyn had been told that goblins were smallish creatures and cowardly as well, but they were not that small and their aspect was horrifying in the dark of the night with no one about to help her. She watched the spark fly and got ready to loose another if necessary.

Strangely enough some of her abject fear faded for the moment. Her world had narrowed down to this time and place, and this goblin before her. Bronwyn took a deep breath to steady her nerves. She had her trusty wand in hand gripped firmly and the foe in her sight. She would be damn if she let this goblin hill her without striking back.

Her forefathers had fought for the land her family owned, They had tamed it so they could make a life for themselves and their descendants. She was of that same sturdy stock. This was her patch of land. She had a right to be here and this green horror had no right to drive her from it.

Intella's search of the tent she entered netted her two things of interest to her: a wolf-pelt cloak, and a few beeswax candles. these items she dropped outside the entrance to be picked up as they left, if possible. She knew she couldn't wear the cape, but one of the others miight be interested.

[OOC: That is, she'll be interested in the cloak if it seems to be well-made. If not, she'll leave it and take the candles only.]

As she heads back toward the others, she notices that they are congregating at the larger pavilion tent, so she alters her course to go to the northeastern "corner" of the goblin camp to watch for possible replacements or reinforcements from one of the other camps she knew to be in that general direction. She will stay there until the others head out, then will fall in with them quickly.

“It’s sad isn’t it? The things our people have done…the things our people still do.”

The young, girl flinched as if she had been struck. Her gaze had been fixed upon the thin, gaunt face and the empty, lidless eyes that had haunted her for tenday after tenday. But it was not the face that caused her to flinch. It was the words.

She stole a glance at the tall woman who had crept to her side. Her ebony skin glistened in the moonlight, bathing her skin in a silvery halo.

“It was necessary,” she found herself saying, “she could have been a spy. Haven’t the faeries always persecuted us? Don’t they butcher our kind without remorse?”

The woman smiled, as if responding to a joke that only she was privy to. “And yet you saved her. You found that broken woman and came here. Do you even know why?”

She didn’t.
“P'wal Usstan broue ilta,” Aelistae responded at last as she gazed upon the sad sight of the bound, half-orc child. His starved frame banged futilely at the drums, even as his face betrayed his fear and confusion.

Her sword slipped into its sheath, almost of its own volition, as she stepped forward and reached out a hand to the boy. The other reached into a pouch by her belt and produced a few pieces of dried fruit she had saved from her last meal.

’Take the hand,’ she willed, ‘choose a better life.’
Artanis tugged at her cloak and she could feel the disdain with which Talus looked upon the half-orcish child. But Aelistae chose to ignore both, until the boy had made his decision.

[OOC: The drow translates as “Because I pitied her.”]

In a quiet encampment surrounded by a not-so quiet gathering of ill intended greenskins and their ilk, numerous party members now looked upon the half orcish child standing in the corner of the tent. At the forefront was Aelistae, the fearsome dark elf reputed for their cruelty and creative malice. When she sheathed her weapon and held aloft some tidbit morsels however the child looked at her strangely, truly confused. None-the-less, he complied, shuffling out from behind the drums and closer to she who bid him come hither. As he approached, Linnix cut through the side of the tent, appearing in plain sight, startling the younger half breed, but still he went to Aelistae.

As they backed away from the tent, leaving behind the field of silence, The orc looked around the carnage of his clan’s destruction with eyes of anger and hate. Aelistae looked at the young one, with eyes unlike Gorg in orcish, or George in human tongue had ever seen. He had seen drow eyes before, but Aelistae’s were filled with a kindness misplaced upon her ebony features. Aelistae prodded the boy for information subtly at first, gaining his name and the fact that he was indeed a proud member of the Moon Howl clan, ready to rise above his tainted bloodline (referring to human) and prove to all he was a mighty warrior, worthy of following the Great Bolikar. This undoubtedly pushed Aelistae or the other’s around to more questions, but Gorg interrupted with one of his own.

Speaking in Orcish, then repeating it in a broken english, raising a brow when he realizes noone understands him Gorg says “Why has Bolikar sent you to punish us, we have done nothing wrong. Has Khalil sent you to do her bidding?”

To the north, Elendil and Brownyn were engaged in a less civil exchange, with words hurled as verbal weapons to accompany the sword blows, and magic missiles of wands. At one end of the path, Elendil and her opponent squared away, both exchanging glancing blows, that did little more than entice more combat, while Bronwyn’s second Magic Missile (48/50) felled her foe with a small impact of flashing light as the missile of immaculate accuracy slammed into the goblin’s chest, knocking him for a loop from which he would not recover. Thankfully in the clear once more, Bronwyn could still here Elendil and her goblin enemy up ahead in th dark. A second round of battle netted still no successful blows, the goblin hooting and howling as it jumped from side to side taunting the elf. This served only to further the ranger’s anger, and her next strike would be retributive, catching the goblin across the face, splitting it’s jaw from ear to ear and claiming its life in a tumble to the ground, its face left in a perpetual bloody grin.

Elendil, reaching for her companion Talon, picks up on the wind with her acute sense of hearing the sounds of goblin’s up ahead, cursing and taunting much as her now defeated enemy had. She faintly makes out partial phrases like “poke him” and “can we eat him?” in goblin tongue while remarks such as “....to your leader” and “wouldn’t do that...” are spoken in a human dialect laced with rich Calims***e accents.

Artanis watched, quite intrigued, as the young Orcish boy slowly made his way toward Aelistae. She gripped the hilt of her sword when someone suddenly cut through the side of the tent, then relaxed when she saw it was only Linnix. She motioned for the woman to stand down, and breathed a sigh of relief when the boy continued his path toward Aelistae.

As the group left the tent, and with it the field of silence, she realized they may have some trouble with the boy. The entire campsite was littered with the fallen kin to this boy. Her eyes darted to his face to see his reaction. She could understand the anger and hatred she saw there, and her heart went out to him. She almost felt guilty. They had just killed the poor boy’s people, possibly his family. She felt an all too familiar ache in her chest at that thought. Artanis knew all too well what it felt like to have her family ripped away from her in such a cruel fashion.

As a result of Aelistae’s gentle persuasion, the boy spoke. It would seem his name was Gorg, and he was a member of the Moon Howl Clan. “Well, that explains the carvings on the items we found.” Artanis thought to herself.

After a few moments, Gorg asked a question, “Why has Bolikar sent you to punish us, we have done nothing wrong. Has Khalil sent you to do her bidding?”
Artanis asked softly, so as not to alarm the boy or scare him, “Who is Khalil?”

Who is Khalil?
Gorg raised a thin, almost non-existant eyebrow, thin sparse black hairs on a prominant brow. "Who Khalil you say. Then, you not Khalil. No you no for Bolikar. You..."
Gorg falls silent, backing away a moment eyeing those gathered, before turning to run, screaming something repeatedly in his native tongue, unrecognizable to the party. He didn't get very far however, as Linnix raised her bow and placed a single arrow in the fleeing boy's back, pushing him forward into a stumble, his voice stolen along with his breath, his life as he fell face first to the earth.
As eyes fell on her, she could only give a shrug that had "What?" written all over it. They could not afford to be discovered, and everyone knew that even if they did not want to speak it aloud.

Dylan slowly and carefully resheathed his rapier. He couldn't tell if he had let his guard down or if the goblins had merely gotten luckier than he. With one hand he quested for the pouch that he had kept his wand in, the other hand extended for the support of the tents on his way to where the others gathered. His path was tediously slow as he brought himself to the large tent. It wouldn't do to move too fast, risking further injury, though he searched for the wand frantically enough. The little blighters gave him one brutal beating across the bridge of his nose and jaw. Smashed the way he was he had difficulty even speaking, much less any other vocal act, so he would be targeting his cure effects there first.

When he arrived, Aelistae and Talus had gone into the tent, with no visible sign of Linnix. He decided to merely join the party left around the entrance, where verbal magic still had its use.

The wand found, Dylan drew it, expending two uses of its magic upon himself like downing cheap ale. It was enough to stop the bleeding and to fix the mechanisms, as well as to begin the regrowth of new skin, but his wounds were far worse than as would be considered 'light'. He excersized his jaw carefully as he turned to the halfling woman. "Might I ask what your name is?" he asked her as he knelt down. Before any such answer would come, he leveled his wand at her chest and spoke the command word to release another charge.

While he talked with her, he released another two charges for himself, the glow of positive energy washing into him in gentle tides, leaving a flurry of regrowth where they surged. I just bought this wand in Castle Tethyr not even a week ago, he thought with a bit of irritation. Certainly he was hoping for a little more flair than 'rescued by farmer come sniper' when the battle was fought and won. However, he knew better than to sulk about it. He thanked his rescuer, the second arrow from the dark of night came without a visible face, whoever he thought he knew it was.

Aelistae and Talus exited the grand tent with 'Gorg' between them and Linnix trailing behind. Never being one to dismiss others on discrimination, Dylan made no comment about the Half-Orc child. Indeed, he had something of a weakness for children. So he listened to the child with likely less compassion than Artanis, but not without empathy.

Hardly given to warning, the child suddenly ran, as frightened young creatures were wont to do. The harmonic strum of bowstring ended the chorus of orcish words with a sudden, jarring thump. Dylan recognized the need for stealth in their operations, but he could not justify the need for deadly force with himself yet. Of course, it wouldn't matter in a few seconds, the drums from the tent were beaten and not even the magical silence could erase their mark on the night air.

"Come, we should leave quickly- like five minutes ago."

Time seemed to slow as the half-orc boy began to shout and turned to flee. But even so Aelistae found that she did not have enough time. All she could do was watch as Linnix first raised her bow and then drilled and arrow into the back of the half-orc child.

Aelistae’s eyes fell. She did not want to look at the body of the boy whom she had hoped could be saved, but had chosen instead to remain among the orcs and goblins who had caused so much pain to others.

“You…did the right thing,” the drow woman managed to say at last to Linnix.. “Dylan is right we should go. There is nothing more we can learn here, and nothing more we can do.”

‘I just wish things could have been different,’ a voice within her head added, as she and her comrades strode back into the night.

He believes it. Linnix thinks sadly, as the young boy displays his confidence in the clan he grew up with, And if one believes something, with all of their heart, they won't change easily, but they can still change.
Seeing the group as falling in with the enemy, whatever that may be to him, the boy begins to flee, and Linnix hears the footsteps as though she were miles away.

No... no choice.
"I'm sorry." Linnix says softly as she draws back her bow, and lets the arrow fly.

Yet, even as the boy falls to the ground, a tear likewise falls from Linnix's eye. All she could hope was that the arrow was true, and death came swiftly.

“You…did the right thing,” the drow woman managed to say at last to Linnix.. “Dylan is right we should go. There is nothing more we can learn here, and nothing more we can do.”
"Yes..." Linnix murmurs, agreeing, although she looks a bit blankly toward the fallen boy.

It almost felt as though it was her own heart she just shot.

Elendil first takes up the body of Talon and uses her healing belt on Talon. Praying she is not to late to save his life . (One charge 2s6) WHEn done with that she draws the body into some brush scuffs the blood from the trail, and hurries back to get her bow and Bronwyn. She believes the Goblins, she heard had a captive, but she has to make sure the Elven Mage is safe and secure before she checks it out.

Sheathing her sword as she retrieves the bow and arrow, she then finds Bronwyn, but not before half stumbling over the body of a dead goblin with the stench of burned flesh.

"Well done. Now, I think there are more Goblins ahead, I heard them speaking, and I think they have a Human prisoner."

Bronwyn takes in a full breath once the goblin falls and then blows it out. She bends to check the fallen goblin to make sure he is quite dead and then moves forward cautiously and slowly, wand at the ready. The night is darker under the trees and what starlight and moonlight filters down to the ground is dappled with deeper shadows.

Hoping to join up again with the Ranger, Bronwyn frantically scans the area with her eyes and ears. She can't see far but she is now alert to every sound about her. She keeps her concentration on her Magic Missile spell. She does not dare call out and risk more goblins finding her before she found Elendil.

Brownwyn sudenly started as she heard a moise ahead of her. She stood reay with spell and wand and the steps came closer she was ready to let fly as soon as a goblin stepped out, which was fortunate for Elendil when she appeared in her mottled clothes a few paces from Bro=nwyn.

"Thank goodness it was you, however, I was about to fry you. Now lets get out of here quickly.

Bronwyn looked aghast as Elendil said there were more up the way with a possible captive and she was planning to take them on.

Bronwyn gasps lowly,"You must be kidding."