Elendil cheered inwardly as the first Gnoll dropped, and as expected the Gnolls dropped the cage. What was not expected the gnoll's reckless charge and the quickness of their actions catching her off guard. Elendil does her best to keep from getting flanked, dropping her bow and reaching for her sword, though she does not get it clear before they reach her Before she had a chance to properly defend herself they were upon her, and both axe blades met soft elven skin and the flesh underneath, finding gaps in her leather armor. Elendil (37/49hp)


She bits off a cry of pain, least the Gnolls take courage at injuring her. “Let none leave alive.” She calls out and with a deft pull and twist of her wrist her sword clears it sheath and she smiles as she faces the Gnolls, vengeance lights her eyes. Her sword strike is all that is graceful and deadly, striking at the Gnoll on her left, which would leave the sword angled across her body hoping that it will inhibit the strike of the second Gnoll.

She is hoping that Bronwyn can down her Gnoll and then come to her aid. The tiny human mage showed some spunk, even if it was only that she did not want to be left alonge Still she was here and using her magic effectively, despite her fear.

(OOC DM sent PM that is a problenm in timing)

Dylan did not hear the sound, but he said nothing as he peered through the moonlit night, trying to catch any trace of it. He rubbed the hair on his chin thoughtfully. Aelistae found releif fron Intella, who also heard the horncall. Dylan you fool, now you're in deeper than your head. How are you planning to get out of this?
Between Intella and Aelistae, the sound was clearly that of some crude goblinoid instrument meant for playing warnings rather than music. Aelistae, even unfamiliar as she was with surface worlder customs, had already assumed the likely truth; the beasts had run into another problem. As the situation lay currently, it would be too easy to merely turn and flee like shadows into the night, thanks to the the distraction. Taking stock of his current companions, Dylan didn't think this option would receive much favourable reaction. Besides, riding to the aid of these warriors (for they would likely have to be to cause such an alarm) could result in an ally in their mission, noble as it were. Of course there was always the chance that whoever was alarming the goblins did not believe in the ideal that 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend', but with his recent luck, Dylan was confident that luck would turn around and hand them a Paladin of Tyr or something.

Turning to the others, Linnix adds, "Well, unless anyone comes up with another suggestion or a potential problem with this plan."
"I think this plan is sound if we can manage to assist these warriors in their struggle. I wouldn't suggest reminding the orcs of our presence too soon, so we should ride directly for the source of the horn. We had better get going quickly, lest we arrive too late or discover our own problems from idling too long. I hope none of our pursuers decide to ignore this new warning else we may be in trouble."

The success of Atharam’s surprise assault filled him with elation, though admittedly, not as much as the cooperation of his teammates – particularly Hawkrill. He knew Seleyon would do as directed, and she was cool of mind and patience, but the young lad who idolized the knight was a different story. He had feared Hawkrill would get too eager, and rush before the signal, or that he might simply roam around the camp striking down those he chose in effort to show his worth in Atharam’s eyes. It was the following of orders that enabled such a crushing first strike.

Despite Seleyon’s unfailing archery in finishing off the orc that Atharam had so badly wounded in his charge, the creature had gotten off a horn blast before dying. Surely, he thought, to summon reinforcements, or to at least notify other camps or patrol groups of the presence of an intruder.

“Do not relent!” Atharam shouted to his companions, maneuvering Raykel about to run down another goblin. He raised his steel blade, and brought it down heavily towards the unruly creature below him, aiming to kill with one blow. “Help has been summoned! We must finish this quickly and regroup to face the next wave!”

Atharam’s cape fluttered about behind him as Raykel’s mighty hooves tore up the ground of the campsite, both earth and blood flying with each clomp. The inspiring raised fist emblem on his back, he knew, was one of the best things for keeping Hawkrill motivated and in line. He’d had experiences with the youth in the past where attempting to coordinate him beyond the knight’s view had led to failure, due to an inability to keep inspired. However, in such close proximity, they functioned well as a pair, with Seleyon roaming the shadows, taking down any who got away from flashing steel of sword and spearpoint.

A quick glance thrown to the edges of the firelight did not reveal the elven woman to him, and he smiled slightly at this. He considered himself aware and attentive at all times, taking his duty very seriously, but there were a number of incidents where she’d snuck up on him without difficulty. Though it irked him when it happened, he was proud to have her make use of such talents to cover him when he needed it the most. Atharam knew that no matter how dire the situation, he could count on her. And with time, when he could raise Hawkrill to knighthood in the Order of Helm, he would be able to put the same faith in the lad.

Guiding Raykel around the campfires, constantly moving to keep the goblins in a state of panic, Atharam covered one flank of the duo with his polished shield, the other with the steel tongue of his sword. A steel-encased engine of war, they brought thunder down upon the heads of the servants of evil.

“Swift justice upon the enemies of Helm!” He shouted, indicating Hawkrill to assault the few goblins remaining on the battlefield. “Victory shall belong to us!” They had this battle in their hands; now all the remained was to finish it quickly and exit the firelight to regroup for a secondary assault on any who might come rushing to lend aid.

(OOC: Atharam is simply attacking, and directing his companions to kill the remaining goblins. If they succeed before reinforcements arrive, they’ll vacate and regroup where they deployed from. If more goblins/orcs/whatever show up before the remaining goblins are killed, Atharam will call Hawkrill to him, and make plans from there. Seleyon is not to enter the campsite until secured. She will come by Atharam’s order.)

Aelistae suggested the group attack the next group of goblins while they were still in a somewhat state of chaos, and not yet banded together with the rest of their forces.

“My only concern about that, is that the others can swarm us and box us in, much the same as the wolves had back in that clearing in the woods. Only we’d be facing much greater odds. That could be fatal to the lot of us. What say we take your former idea, Aelistae. Only instead of colapsing this bridge” Artanis motioned to the bridge Aelistae had magically mended, “we colapse that one leading from the keep. This may allow us to have only one side for them to attack us on, thus going back to your suggestion where they would not be able to swarm us, but rather have to cross the bridge. In this way we can take them out a few at a time as you had suggested. Xaris, Intella, and I can take them out bit by bit, fighting at the fore-front, those with the bow skill a bit further off , and the others can pick off any who may attempt to swim across, or who may possibly get past us three.” She looked at Aelistae, then at the rest of the group to hear what they thought.

“Whatever we are going to do, we must do it now.”
“Did you hear that? …That horn? I think the orcs and goblins have found some other prey.”
Artanis listened hard for the faintest of noises, but was unable to hear anything. “I don’t hear anything, Aelistae.” But she could see awareness written all over Aelistae's face, and on Intella's face as well.

“We can’t wait here any longer. We should go if only investigate what that sound was.”
Nodding her agreement, Artanis was ready to move out and see what was going on. Perhaps it was best to sneak up on the separate groups of goblins and orcs before they’d had the chance to rally together afterall.

“I don’t think that will work,” Aelistae replied to Artanis with a slight shake of her head. “The bridge at the keep is likely to be guarded, and even if it wasn’t it would take us some time to dismantle it. Also I don’t think that the goblins and orcs are after us. It seems something less subtle than us is attacking them this night.”

“I may be best for us to take our horses,” she added after reflecting on Dylan’s suggestion. “But I would prefer to go on foot. Even if we run, we’ll make less noise than a horse walking.”

While discussing what to do and how to do it as the drums sounded in the distance, Intella had voiced her willingness to accompany the group in any ploy.

But her eyese widened at the sound of a horn, barely heard over the sound of the throbbing drums. The tone denoted an instrument made of natural material, not one made of metal, and it was a single, long blast. Faint as the sound of the horn was, desperation could be heard in its message. Intella looked at the others to see if they also heard the tone. But it seemed only the dark elven female, Aelistae, had heard, for she was already looking at Intella with the same surprised look on her face.

"Well it's good to know I wasn't imagining it," the dark femme added with a nod.
Intella shook her head. "No, you didn't imagine it. Though it makes for more importance that we move soon, if not now! To cover that distance we need to ride, not run. Whatever is causing this distubance is to our advantage, regardless of who or what it is. The direction is a problem, though. If we take the two bridges to get to the sound, it may take too long."

Then she pauses and her face brightens. "Buuuuut, if we intercept those from the northwestern camp, we can take them on before they reach the bridge, while the northwestern camp, most likely, will go to the sound of the horn. That means we will only have one group to fight, and we can keep those reinforcements from getting to the horn's source." She gives a questioning look to the rest of the group.

[[ Regardless of the plan chosen or the decision made ... ]]

"May Yondalla watch over us!" That said, Intella turns to run to Mossan and mount, waiting for the others to ready themselves

Across the encampments war drums and battle calls echoed into the night. Goblins, orcs, gnolls, and other monsters possibly yet unseen were mustering to the call all the while around the swarming masses of enemies three groups of would-be heroes moved to engage. To the south, a plan, albeit a much debated over, yet with perhaps much left unsaid was formulated. The plan, as best discerned, was to ride on horseback towards the horn blasts suspected origin, dismount and engage when necessary, but otherwise avoid drawing too much attention on their way to hopefully assist some unseen potential ally in the fight. Even if it were likely another patron and their group, a combined mustering of forces would at least put them at an advantage for the time being, though none would truly put any amount of ‘trust’ in the other with so much on the line.

Mounted once more they rode north across their bridge of choice, and into the trees. They could spot through the trees the torchlight and movement of enemies all around them, but they could not afford to be separated or surrounded, so onward they rode. Their thundering hooves carried them swift and hard into the night, but before long as was expected they began to draw much attention, and a force moved to interject. Caught on the paths between camps, their line of horses were left with little maneuverability as a doting bunch of torchlights moved closer, then one by one went out, leaving their advance shrouded in darkness.

Those with darkvision could see there was a small force of goblins, accompanied by a few gnolls advancing from within the cover of the trees and obscured from most people’s view with the shade of night., but everyone knew that combat would soon be upon them in a most unfavorable place unless they made a quick decision whether to fight or flee.


To the north, Elendil and Bronwyn were engaged with their own foes. Elendil was beset by two gnolls, and with a diagonal slash from the lower left up across her body, and into the flesh of the gnoll it went, in an attempt to block the undoubted strike of the second gnoll. Her blade bit deep into the first’s flesh, a bloody rut left through the gut of the hairy creature, which clutched its wound with its fingers, but the bleeding was far too severe, and it collapsed before being able to mount a counter attack. The second gnoll however’s strike came about lower than expected, and passed under the upturned blade of the ranger. The sharp blade of the battleaxe bit deep into the elf’s side eliciting a scream muffled through clenched teeth. (27/49hp)

Bronwyn, surprisingly putting her own safety aside for the moment, recited the incantation for her Magic Missile spell, the three darts of force slamming into the back of the gnoll, slumping him forward against the ranger, the eyes in its hyena resembling head rolling back into its skull as it died.

The single gnoll, with a broken nose and sense of pride, watched Bronwyn’s magic, and decided it wanted nothing to do with the witch. It turned to run, howling out a warning to all who would hear, before disappearing from sight after a full out run took it from view. (Full round of movement.)

To the east, combat was also engaged, with Atharam and Hawkrill moving around in a circle trying to dispatch their enemies, while the goblins hooted and hollered while jumping around and thrusting their crude spears at the pair. The pair, along with their horses in tow managed to fell three goblins rather quickly, the remaining three backing off and throwing their javelin’s not at the riders, but the broader, larger steeds, hoping to dismount the knights by force. Unfortunately for the goblins, the steeds were as thick skinned and armored as their masters, and the weapons harmlessly bounced off the protective wear. With Seleyon’s unflinching accuracy, she felled two more goblins with her long shafted arrows, leaving only a single quivering greenskin before the pair of knights. It’s knees were literally rattling against one another, while it let loose whatever ‘courage’ was left down its legs.

The strategy had worked brilliantly, and a combination of forged steel and lancing wooden shafts had dispatched all but one of the remaining goblins. That lone soul, who stood there cowering in fear as the armoured knight brought about his steel-encased mount, staring down from beneath the brow of his helm at the frightened creature, couldn’t move in its terror. Had it been a human, or not a minion of evil, Atharam would have appeared to the goblin as a regal figure, sent from the heavens to cleanse the land. Well…it still appeared that way, but not in a hope-inspiring way.

Atharam dismounted Raykel in a smooth motion, his cape fluttering behind him as his greaves touched down with a heavy thunk. Shifting his shield arm, he slung the barrier over his shoulder and onto his back, and, with his eyes locked upon the small, cowering figure before him, strode forwards at a quick pace.

“Salvage what you can find use for. Look for maps or charts that may provide us with logistical information.” Atharam announced loudly to his comapanions, Seleyon and Hawkrill rapidly carrying out the knight’s order.

His boots snapped a javelin in twain as he approached, and with a great burst unexpected from one so heavily encased in armour, he thrust forth a gauntleted hand and caught the goblin by the neck, hoisting it up to eye level. His eyes were as cold as iron, and his face wore no emotion. His grip was tight, and held the quaking wretch securely, his fingertips leaving prints in the sides of its skinny little neck.

“Who is Bolikar?” Atharam’s deep voice spoke in accented Goblin, learned during his initial battle training in the Monastery.

“Bolikar…is leader.” It sputtered, having a difficult time drawing enough air into its lungs to speak. Its yellowed eyes were wide with terror, and its breath smelled of rotten fish. Atharam ignored it.

“Where is he?”

“Bolikar everywhere!” The goblin shouted in Atharam’s face. “H-he see all! With Eye!”

This brought a look of intrigue to the knight’s stoic face. He sees all? “What do you mean?”

The goblin was silent for a moment, but a shake from the paladin’s strong arm got it speaking again. “Bolikar…blessed by Gruumsh One-eye… He sees all!”

He thought for a moment, then changed his approach. “What is Bolikar?”

“Bolikar is leader! Bolikar is blessed!”

Atharam sighed. “You already told me that. What is Bolikar?” He repeated.

“Bolikar will rend the flesh from your bones like ribbons!” It squealed, beginning to thrash about. Atharam tightened his grip to silence it, though it still struggled.

“You have aided me, and for that act, your judgement in the next world shall be performed with this assistance in measure. By the justice of Helm, may your spirit be carried swiftly!” He spun around and hurled the flailing creature through the air. A quick whistling sound followed up, and the goblin ceased its movements before it hit the ground. Had he not known what was happening, he’d not have noticed the arrow swiftly penetrate and sail onwards from the powerful bow of Seleyon. But it was a well-rehearsed action, one they had done before. She knew what to do when Atharam damned the interrogation subject to hell.

Walking back towards the center of the camp, Atharam wiped clean his sword on the rags of a fallen goblin, and returned it to sheath, removing his helmet and holding it under one arm against his hip. Seleyon was shouldering her bow again after her expert shot. Hawkrill stood attentively, his spear butt planted firmly on the ground.

“I trust you have found everything of value here that may aid us in our cause?” The knight asked with a quick survey, returning to Raykel and running his fingers through the horse’s mane.

“Yes sir.” Seleyon answered, followed by a matching response from Hawkrill.

“Good. The information I gained from that foul creature was not especially useful, but I shall debrief us where we struck from.”

“Yes, my lord.” Hawkrill replied, rushing over and mounting Charger in the same fashion Atharam had.

Turning Raykel about, Atharam snatched up a torch from a mounting post and trotted over to a nearby tent, touching flame to the material until it caught.

“Burn everything.”

(OOC: Hawkrill and Seleyon have been sent to search while Atharam interrogated the goblin. They are now setting fire to the camp, and returning to their striking point to inform his companions of what he learned.)

Apprehension built within Dylan’s chest as the lights went out steadily. The promise of bloody war encroached over the darkening road. Before even a moment passed, the light of the full moon was the solitary illumination across the plain.

“Very well then, I suppose I can spare a quick Allegretto for these unappreciative retches,” he said, more to himself.

With a practiced motion, Dylan’s right arm thrust to his side, but it was not the sword held there that he sought. He quickly, but gently, set down the slipcase that held his prized possession, his violin. The bard knew well his craft, and wasted no time to slide the beautiful instrument from its comparatively unglamourous case. With a flick he drew his bow and adjusted his grip.

In contrast with the rest of his somewhat bulky body, Dylan’s fingers were long and slender. Expertly he held his bow in his right and set his chin to the violin. Compulsively, he tightened one of the knobs at the end of the strings, remembering the flat string from his last performance. Finally, the last thing before he began his performance, he dropped his lids over his eyes. There would be no need for sight, especially considering the conditions.

The first note he struck ripped through the night air in the same fashion as his bow across the bridge of his instrument. He did not allow it to linger long alone in the night air, chasing it with a series of quieter, accented notes that raced up and down the scale. The notes began to come faster off his bow, thus louder in the night air, until with a final tremolo note, quivering in the air, he began to sing. His melody rang out in threes, soft, soft, strong.

“To my song you shall dance, to my breath take your stance” His first phrase descended down the scale. With typically sharp yet, somehow, flowing notes, he wove back up and down, building and folding his sound as appropriate to create a steady pulse. His song continued, melting into the background of the battlefield din. Every time his song lulled, it would suddenly return at full strength, causing an intake of breath in those hearing it. This sudden wind would provide skill and confidence in the actions of his friends. His enemies, they heard the song too, but it was with nothing like the courage infusing their opponents. Occasionally Dylan would suddenly be singing with a very harsh, incomprehensible (to most) tongue of throaty growls and rough sounds. At one point he silenced and let his bow and fingers sing alone, at another he shifted the bow in his hand to pluck furiously at the strings. The climax of the song featured a verse in Draconic at the top end of both the violin’s and Dylan’s own dynamic range, practically roaring out into the din of the battle.

(That is to say, in short form, I shall be inspiring courage for the next however many rounds until something occurs that may cause me to change my mind. By default, Dylan will use that spare move action leftover from his concentration to move away if he is too closely threatened, otherwise he will remain seated in the cart.)

Elendil takes a moment to use one charge off her Belt of Healing and then advances to the cage. She picks up a Gnoll ax in case she needs to break the cage open, looking at the cage to gauge what may be needed to open it.

"Bronwyn, to me"

As Intella rode with the rest, she saw, as they did, the torches of a group approaching them along the pathway. then the torches went out and she momentarily lost sight of their enemy. When her low-light vision detected movement to her right, it was closer than she had thought they would manage to get, and the group was caught in a tactical situation that left much to be desired. But it was what it was, and they were "in the thick of it".

Her initial, brief assessment told her that flight would gain them time, but would not guarantee a delay of the reinforcements, if that was what these creatures were supposed to be. Intella had seen no orcs -- yet. Where were they? And she was expecting wolves again, also, but Mossan wasn't reacting as though they were present. Nervous, yes, but not the fear that she would show if wolves were near.

Then she heard music coming from the direction of the cart, and thought, "What? Why now?" She just as quickly realized the music was meant to be an anthem, a source of inspiration. She was about to draw breath for the Harpies Warble when the realization struck, so she kept silent as she reined Mossan to the right, stopped suddenly, and threw her left leg over to the right and slid from Mossan's back. Then she reached down to pull the siangham from their sheaths at her calves before creeping into the underbrush in an attempt to surprise a few of the opposing number ...

[[ Hide check +6, +4 (race), taking 10. Will attempt to sneak between two of the gobblies closest to her and, if successful, will attack (the closest) from behind. Two-Weapon ighting. If unsuccessful, she'll mix it up with whoever caught her ... ]]

[[ Next round (?): She knows there is (at least) one behind her (or nearby) and will make a 5' move (cross-step to gain momentum) for kick to the gobblies throat using Decisive Strike and Stunning Attack. If the little buggar is still standing, she'll put it out of it's misery next round ... ]]

Bronwyn watched as the one gnoll she had already hit with Magic Missile run off into the forest screaming. Well he will certainly stir up the pot and get it boiling once he gets back to where he is going.

Bronwyn didn't want to be here when he got back. If she could fun away from her that would be even better. Only she didn't have the ability to do that. Instead she turns to Elendil who is moving forward towards the cage. A very bloodied Elendil.

"Oh Goddess." gasps Bronwyn as she moves closer to join Elendil. Elendil's leg and side were bloody with several ragged rents in her armor. Then she sees the captive in the cage.

"Hello, who are you?" Bronwyn asks, but stands at a comfortable distance from he cage not sure who or what is inside of it. To her human eyes it is a darkish bent over shape since it is in the too small cage.

"If you are going to get him out Elendil I suggest you do it quick. We have to get out of here before the creature that got away comes back with others."

"Hurry. We need to get to my Buttercup and get out of here."

Studying the cage for the best and fastest way to get the captive out, she pauses to activate the belt again, expending 1 more charge.

Indeed they had to hurry, but to where. Listening to the horns that the Goblins and Gnolls sounded were different than the horn she had heard from the direction of the Keep. That one had the sound of a well made instrument, compared the the crude sounding horns of the enemy.

Could there be an attack going on at the Keep?

That might mean that there were other fighting the Goblins and that would mean more protection for Bronwyn. AS it was, the horns and drums seemigly had roused the enemy to battle and trying to make their way south might mean fighting their way through who knew how many enemies. Maybe they could heaad for the Keep and hope to find friends.

Pressed for time, Elendil makes a quick decision, "Get back to one side,: she says to the figure inside and then raises the ax and deliveres a couple of resounding blows to the cage. It did not take much to break it apart, luckily.

She then reaches inside to help the other person out.

"We have to move quickly."

Aelistae’s eyes narrowed. All around her tiny flickers of light bobbed through the undergrowth, and, when the lights went out, she could see the goblins that were holding them. They were crouched low, rubbing their already filthy bodies upon the earth, and their eyes glimmered with a terrible hunger. Every now and again the yapping of a dog-headed gnoll could be heard, presumably urging its charges forward and reminding them of the fresh meat that they would soon enjoy.

Aelistae, however, was in no mood to fill a goblin stew-pot.

She carefully worked her way from atop Daisy’s back and landed quietly upon the hard-compacted earth of the trail they had been following. The horse seemed strangely calm, as if trusting her new dark-skinned mistress would keep her safe. But Aelistae’s companions seemed more ill at ease. She knew that the darkness of the night was enough to blind the humans that travelled with her.

“Keep calm,” she whispered, “there are seven creatures on this side and a similar number behind. Most are goblins, but some are…” Aelistae paused as she tried and failed to think of the human term for the gnolls that she had seen. “The others are kyrii – dog-headed creatures.”

She reached for the comforting pommel of her sword and briefly closed her eyes. A short while later her sword was in her hand and four silvery balls of light hovered in the air, illuminating the surrounding area.


[OOC: Aelistae will dismount as a move action, draw her sword as a free action, and user her innate drow ability to cast dancing lights. Two balls of light will be on the ‘northern’ side of the trail, and two on the ‘southern’. Since they give off as much light as a lantern, it should be enough for the non-darkvision types to see with.

On the second and subsequent rounds Aelistae will be engaging the enemy. She’ll try and stay close to the trail and protect Bart and other non-melee types.]