Three young heroes tore through the pasture lands of the Four Rivers, flying towards their companions as if the very hounds of Shail'Garath were on their tail. In a manner of speaking, that is exactly what was behind them. Tall and broad figures with malformed and misshapen animal faces. Some of those faces rode on whole animal heads, others seemed almost human like, only with some feature that made one think of an animal. Nine of them chased the three.

The three were fast, none of them wearing heavy armor, or over burdened with coin or loot, or even food. The three ran over their own home ground, Ash Rhoiden leading the way. Her nimble feet and sense of balance keeping her in the lead as she ran over ground that she had stalked with the Warden on many occasions. Then came Saeyll, without armor or weapon, hers was the lightest burden, and the untold hours of dancing as an entertainer had developed the young woman's grace, her feet seemed to only touch the ground begrudgingly as she tore through the waist high grasses. Ryke Blackwood brought up the rear. Not from necessity, he may have been able to overtake the others, but from the back, he could keep an eye on them, and an ear on their helllish pursuers.

The horn calls continued every few minutes or so the pursuers would blow their horn, and others would answer. They had been within a mile of Gryphon Rock. One mile to where their friends were supposed to be. Seven minutes of flight, they just had to keep their feet for seven measly minutes.

"Breeeeeeeeeeeeee-yaaaaaaaaaaaa......".

"I hope they're ready for some comp'ny!" Ash called over her shoulder to Saeyll. Her breathing was much heavier than her tone.

"I hope they are ready to run," was Saeyll's very serious reply which splintered upon the rush of wind, the stammer of heartbeats, and the threat of the horrible, horrible horns. Never again would Saeyll hear that instrument without shivering, never had she imagined music a thing to be feared; but then never had she imagined her life endangered nor the monstrosities that pursued.

Back at the rock, it was too apparent what was happening. That closest Orck horn was growing closer. The others still seemed far off and thin. It was a maddening feeling, listening as their foes closed in, not knowing if their friends were alright or not, if they were pursued, or captured, or worse. The idea of rushing out to meet their foes and find their friends occurred to each, and the waiting appeared hardest on Garrick, whose relationship with Ash ran deep. She was in trouble, one way or another and out of his reach for the moment. Just as the tall young man thought he could take no more and nearly tore off to the rescue the sounds of someone tearing through the pasture grasses reached his keen ears. Whatever was running was within a few hundred yards.

Ash broke into sight first, a leap and a caught tree limb, and she swung into sight, covered in sweat, her eyes as big as saucers. Scratches marred her face as branches had gone unseen in the failing light, or she had just been in too much of a rush to avoid them.

"We brought ya some comp'ny." Ash said, her tone light but urgent as she immediately took a knee to ready her bow. "Oh...and we made a friend." Her voice trailed off as if the latter was unimportant as she fiddled with the straps of her quiver. A sigh of relief escaped Garrick, even if she had brought company.

Five paces behind Ash another figure came into view, not Ryke and definitely not an Orck. It was a black haired beauty with big dark eyes, and a dress more suited to attending a wedding than flying for dear life. Her face and demeanor seemed much the same as Ash's, and perspiration streamed down her face.

In other circumstances Garrick might have enjoyed the view of the bouncing beauty but this wasn't the time or the place. He wasn't sure what his friends had run into but it had to be something nasty the way Ash was running. Leave it to her to bring them back instead of just scouting as she was supposed to.

Lastly, ten paces after Ash had came into view, and five behind the newcomer, Ryke bulled through the grasses into view. His leather hauberk soaked in sweat, and a look of grim determination on his face, as if he had been willing the two young women to stay upright, and stay ahead of him for a great distance.

"Thank all the Gods..." Marissa breathed. Her grip remained solid on her sword, however. "You all okay? How many are behind you, right off and how far?" Her stride landed her behind Ryke as she gazed into the darkening wood. Her posture and body language screaming both her relief and her readiness to fight.

The young ranger spun in place, spear at the ready, and stood next to Marissa. "Nine...maybe ten..." he gasped between breaths. "Close. Maybe...others..." He shook his head as he gulped air, indicating he wasn't sure. "But some...are close." He took another ragged breath. "And I think we're fine."

"Yeah. I'm good, and none of this is my fault." She quipped almost merrily. "One of 'em is hurt pretty bad, uglier in sin, too. Lil bit faster than I'd given 'em credit, too." Something about the run had cleared Ash's head and gave her a giddy feeling. It was a feeling that she quite liked, and one that she hadn't felt since that time she was almost gored to death by farmer Merican's prize bull.

"Why do I doubt it wasn't your fault." Garrick said moving up beside the others, sword in hand and ready to go. "I'm guessing you talked Ryke into going farther than you should have." He tried his best to sound brusque to hide the worry he'd felt as the sun sank in the sky.

Ryke waved a hand. "She didn't have to try that hard. And it's a good thing, too." He nodded toward Saeyll. "We picked her up close to where the orck-kind had hidden."

"Yeah."  Ash echoed, with an appreciative wink at Ryke and a healthy slug on Garrick's arm.  "...and Saeyll, knows Lucas.  Wouldn't have wanted her to be boogermen food."  The stockier young woman raised her eyebrows at that.  Lucas hadn't mentioned knowing the beautiful singer.

Harrod knew he had very little energy left to call upon the power of the Creator, especially after healing Jar. He grabbed his staff and walked over towards the others.

Rissa," he began. "I don't have much left within me to call upon the Creator's healing power. My staff is ready, but we shouldn't rely on my ability to heal too greatly as we make our final plans."

"Final plans?" Saeyll asked timidly. She had slipped to a halt well past the others, the ominous phrase urging her close to the fire, an anxious hand rubbing the arm opposite to stave away a sudden chill despite the heat from flame and exertion. "You cannot mean to fight those..." she trailed off, too polite even to refer to them as 'things' though she had no other word for them. "We should be running, or hiding, not waiting to greet death. Or to deliver it," she finished, her eyes shying away from the weapons her companions held with such familiarity. "Is there a way across this river?"

"Only if you sprout wings, I think.  Long way down," Marissa answered. Saeyll only stared at the response, a little panicked, a little awestruck. Marissa was the shortest among the group yet to Saeyll the Marissa existed as a towering presence. Her reverie was broken by the curly-haired young man with exotic countenance.

Garrick gave the newcomer a grim look. "We can't run forever and we have to keep them following us, so hiding is out of the question. Do you think any of us like the idea of killing any more than you do? Sometimes you just don't have a choice."

Saeyll's eyes closed and for a moment she very much resembled her mother. When they opened there was no longer timidity in her voice, but nor was there condemnation. "There is always a choice. You will make yours. Please understand that I make mine."

"You have any other ideas?"  Ash asked curiously of the newcomer.

Saeyll's shrug was one of uncertainty. "If the book is all they are after then perhaps the simplest solution is to give it them, or to keep them at bay with the threat of its destruction." A dagger appeared in her hand but it became clear she had no intention of using it when a thin book followed immediately after. Turning from the curious pairs of eyes that gleamed even in the dying light she knelt beside the fire and with a sweep of her arm to clear her gaze of sweat set to quick but careful work.
"How much do you know of these creatures?"

"They are big," Ryke said, glancing behind him at the others. "And they are tough. And they outnumber us. It will be a hard fight." He returned his attention to their trail, cocking his head to listen. He tightened the grip on his spear.  "Not that it matters. They are nearly upon us."

"They're big, just means they're easier to hit."  Ash piped up with some moral support.  "I'm goin' up."  ...and with that she shimmied up  a tree to try and get a clear ranged shot of their pursuers.

"Harrod, you know this place better than we do?  Is there a way we can get across the river from here?" Marissa asked.  The information they had from Jar, the horns and what Ryke and Ash said about what was coming made her think that running might be the better idea, after all.  "The rice farms aren't too far from here and this time of year, they're full of water.  It'll throw them off the scent."

Harrod looked at the group. "Aye. There might be a way, but it won't be easy and I don't know how long it will take." Harrod gestured to the two columns that was all that remained of the old bridge. "There's a rope, there" he pointed, "that we can use to get to the top of the first column. If we can rig a makeshift rope bridge to connect to it and then span the two columns, we can be across and on the other shore in minutes. Last one up cuts the rope bridge completely once they are over." he paused for just a moment. "We can put anywhere from hours to days between us and them. What do you think?"

"I would rather be atop a rock than against one and a hard place. I have rope with me, if that's of any use and I have this." The mage stood, tucking four freshly freed sheets with delicate scrawling into her pouch before presenting the spellbook. It was small and simple, a sharp contrast to the grandeur of the genuine article, but it was all she had to offer. "Do you think we can convince them that this is what they seek? If we must destroy or hand over a book to save ourselves I am willing to part with it." Her knuckles shown a little too pale in the firelight, as if she gripped the book too tightly, but her voice was calm. "A few of us can try to keep their attention and stay their hand with this bluff while the others work to get us across the gorge," she proposed, her attention trained on Marissa. She had long wanted to meet the heroine of Four Rivers. Now she wanted very much to meet with her approval.

Marissa regarded the singer, but she could only afford the luxury to think for a quick moment. Why are they looking to me for this stuff?  I know squat... she paused and looked at Garrick.  Suddenly, some of those lessons with Jarod Quopol started making sense.  She then switched her attention back to Saeyll.  "I don't think they'll care if we destroy a book or not.  I think that if we do that, they'll just try and kill us all the harder.  But you've the right of it with the fighting and running," she nodded.

Saeyll began to argue for peace over bloodshed when the agile nymph spoke from above. 

"I don't know about that."  Ash said over her shoulder as she climbed up the tree.  "If we make 'em think that book is THE book.  I think they'd be right put out if they thought we were gonna d'stroy it." Saeyll agreed with an insistant nod. "Must be valuable to who'ever they're workin' for."  By the time she'd finished her thought, she'd settled into a branch,and had her quiver slung nearby. 

"Ash?" she called to the girl in the tree.  "C'mere.  Do you think you can be the first one down and set up a quick line for us to use?  It's gonna be hairy, but I think it's just about our only chance."

"Ah...geesh Rissa."  Ash said, her voice full of confusion.  "I'm happy ta do it.  ...but, if I can pick one or two of these monsters off before they overtake us, it'll be a big help.  How bout...I do it as soon as they get too close for my bow ta be much use?"  Marissa could tell that Ash's mind wasn't set on the matter, and if she pressed it would be unlikely for her to put on that stubborn hat of hers that Garrick had told her about.

"I agree with Ash." Garrick said joining them. "I don't think we have enough time before the first ones are on us. If we can take out the ones right behind them it'll buy us some time."

"Agreed," Ryke said over his shoulder.

"Whatcha mean?"  Ash hollered down quizzically.  "The ones behind 'em?"

Ryke rolled his eyes. He shot an irritated glance at the tree and shook his head. "The orks chasing us are the closest, but there might be more. He's saying that if we kill these we might have more time to escape over the river before the next group finds us."

"What he said." Garrick agreed.

"I'll just shoot till I git 'em all."  Ash said lightly, completely oblivious to any irritation from her friends below.

Marissa nodded, knowing sound advice when she heard it.  "All right, then.  Take care of these nine, first then we'll work on getting across the river.  From what Jar said, there are Orck-kind all over the damned ridge, Ash.  Those horns will bring 'em all down on us unless we can get outta here."  The young woman could have hoped to avoid a fight this evening, but now that it was clear they wouldn't, her face set in lines of grim determination.

"Get ready to kick that blind out of the way so we'll have light to see by," she nodded to Saeyll who was closest to it.  "It might even blind them for a second.  An advantage I'll take and run with, if I can.  Ash, if they got bows, you concentrate on them, okay?"  Marissa might have been about to direct orders to Saeyll, but what would a singer with a little dagger do?  Sing them a lullaby?  Instead, she shrugged.  "Ryke, you might see about striking from cover, too.  Any advantage we can get, take it," she reiterated, almost like a mantra.  Garrick recognized the phrase as one his father used frequently during their training sessions.

Ryke nodded and sprinted for the treeline. He'd been thinking along the same lines but fear had kept him in place; fear of being thought some sort of coward for trying to find cover, and fear of not having his friends around him for the coming battle. His first. The first time he'd be fighting for his life. As he raced for the closest cover he couldn't help but wonder at the irony of his palms being sweaty and his mouth being dry.

Garrick clapped Marissa on the shoulder. "This'll be a piece of cake." Whether he was trying to reassure her or himself, Marissa couldn't tell.

"You're all mad." The hand holding the book fell limply to Saeyll's side, her distress obvious. Nothing this day was as she had expected but finding the gentleness of the Lanburg folk so easily replaced with savagery came as the hardest shock. "I," she said with conviction, "will do no harm." She pointedly slipped the dagger away before taking hold of the blind as bidden. She was still willing to trust her companions and leave them to their choice, though should opportunity present itself she was yet prepared to try diplomacy.

"Heya, Rissa!  Ash called down.  Maybe Saeyll can work that rope?"  There was no judgment in her voice.  She remembered the last battle far too well to condemn anyone for not wanting to partake in one.  "You up fer that, Saeyll?  Can't hurt a rope all that much."  

"Yes!" Saeyll said readily. She was no roper, but she was fairly confident she could rig something together. How well and how fast was the question... as was weight, length, distance, height. Her mind began turning. "I'll move on your signal Miss Errald." Using deduction and his sandy hair Saeyll looked to Harrod. "Once I move I'll need you to be my eyes. If things begin to go poorly," she winced as admition things already were going poorly, "Call me. I may be able to help."

Once more Marissa nodded, acknowledging the good sense she heard.  Though she was still unsure why she had to.  "I'm just Marissa, no need to be formal or anything.  We can hope it won't come to a fight, but  last time we thought that, we got surprised."  She didn't say it was their only experience thus far, figuring it didn't need to be said.  "If it comes down to a fight, which is likely, once it starts, move that blind out of the way and then start on the ropes, okay?" she asked.  "I may not have time or the head to say it, then."

She turned and looked to everyone else.  "I guess we're as ready for this as we'll ever be.  Just be careful, Garrick.  One whiff of you and they'll think you're just too pretty to leave be, like last time," she managed a genuine teasing grin.

It was only a moment, before the nine pursuers loped into view. They were barely moving shapes in the dusk that had now deepened to the point of nightfall. A thin Orck horn sounded in the distance, and was answered by one of the ones moving amongst the trees, from this close, it's pitch and volume pained the ears, but didn't leave them ringing too loudly to miss the instructions being barked.

"Go round above." A pause. "Go round below. We get price for their heads, the rest is breakfast!" There were answering grunts, as groups of three began moving left and right through the trees. Three of them moving in the direction Ryke had disappeared into.

Marissa blinked in surprise.  A price for their heads?!  That wasn't something she ever expected to hear of herself.  She rapidly shook off that thought and stepped from behind Garrick, to the left giving them both room to work.  Her stance shifted and her grip tightened on her sword hilt, despite all Jordan told her about possible cramps and torn muscles that could occur.  This was only the second real fight of her life -- for her life.  So far, it wasn't getting any easier to face.  She hoped Ryke had the good sense to come back to the group with his pursuers instead of trying to take them by himself.

"Let them come to us," she murmured to her friend and sparring partner.  "Ash'll take care of any who want to use bows.  I got your back, you got mine.  We're solid," she nodded and swallowed heavily.

"I was just about to suggest the same thing." Garrick said quietly. He took his sword in his right hand and drew his dagger with the left. "Remember the cliff and don't back up too far."

Harrod held his staff and spun it a moment to stretch his muscles. He then quickly stepped down and to the left to position himself between the newcomer  and the approaching Orkind. He wasn't sure what she could do, but he didn't see any signs of weapons or armor on her, and that was enough to cause him to assume the position of defender and protector. He glanced to make certain he was not blocking Ash's line of sight and that anything approaching her or Saeyll would have to come to him first.

Despite her defenders, or perhaps because of them, Saeyll turned as pale as the knuckles gripping book and blind, a ghost in the gloom. She wanted them to retreat, to slip into the shadows as easily as the eerie pack prowling on the perimeter, but they stayed, steadfast, and she with them. Training her resolve on Marrissa and Garrick she waited for that first gleam of blade that was her signal to free the firelight and bleed red into the night.

Ash remained perched in the tree, waiting for the vague shadows to coalesce into solid targets for her arrows.  She trained her attention to the copse of trees that Ryke had disappeared into, planning to help pick off those that would soon be upon him. The bow string creaked ever softly against her cheek, and everything seemed to zoom in, the whole world no larger than her own focus. The rising moonlight and eerie orange glow of the covered fire lit one of the Orcks, a dog faced thug who moved on all fours.

She loosed the arrow and it sang through the air, striking the Orck in his hip and sinking in. His howl rolled over the youths as he spun, and the fury shone in his bared teeth, that canine upper lip drawn back. He dropped to all fours and charged, his orders forgotten in the pain. Ash had her second arrow nocked by the time his arms hit the ground, but his second stride was powerful and far, and her arrow missed low.

Wounded and furious, he charged at Ash, perched in her tree. His snarl leaving a trail of his spittle. It was blurringly fast, startlingly so, pure reaction and instinct took over, as Garrick and Marissa reacted as if it were nothing more than a practice scarecrow. As always it was Garrick who acted first, though Marissa was squarely placed in his path.  He darted forwards, and stabbed the longsword into its right shoulder, and was surprised by how little resistance the quilted armor gave the beast. With a dancers spin he slipped the dirk under its shoulder as it passed, by, and let it's momentum carry it to a sliding stop at Marissa's feet, its yellow and reddish insides slipping from its opened abdomen.

Things began to happen more quickly. The Hornbearer grabbed his bodyguards by the belts, as at one, all the others roared and charged, their fallen comrade inspiring their bloodlust. Another Dog face loped in from the South, and two with horses legs, burst from the darkness. Others came behind them, slower, but still at a dead sprint. Saeyll, who had been waiting for the right moment, pulled the cover off the fire, and the hot blaze, fed with fresh air, leapt to the top of Gryphon Rock, blinding the Orcks, if only for a moment, and breaking their charge.

It was the only moment Marissa needed. Her foes dazzled and offstride, she charged out to meet them. She gave no cry or call, no un needed noise to let the Horse legged horror know he was beset. Even still, her foe sensed her strike, and moved to parry her with his spear haft. It mattered not, battles he had seen in the past had not prepared him for the strength of this farm girl from the Southlands. Her honed broadsword shrugged through his parry, and carried through the quilted armor, driving in just above his hip, and finding plenty of soft organ before it met his spine.

The bile and stench that erupted from its death wound would have been sickening, if she were not squaring around to meet the third and last of their foes that charged from the West. He was slower, his hips and feet formed like those of a man, his boots heavy, and his armor heavier still. He clenched his eyes against the firelight, sudden and harsh behind their quarry, and he heard the howls of pain. The thought occured to him that it might be over before he could get there, before his own cry joined those of his falling companions.

Ryke had emerged from the treeline right on the wolf faced Orcks heels, and the blinding light that Ryke had been expecting silhouetted the Wolf faced creature beautifully. with a fluid movement, he launched the spear as he ran, using a short hopping step to add momentum. The spear flew true, and backed by its own weight, struck the Orck square in the back. Jordan Quopol's steel spearhead busted the rings on the mail shirt, and fractured ribs. Lungs, worked hard from the long run, and short sprint, exploded and deflated, the spear point fracturing more ribs as it stopped, almost netted against the mail shirt under the Orcs snout.

The ichor rolled down his torso, like the insides of a pumpkin left too long in the sun. He staggered, and plodded to a stop, turning in place, his one functioning lung sounding as if he were drowning. "Gonn' ... kill  ..." was all the orck said, as he lunged forward with his own spear. With half a ribcage, and very little life left in him,  the Ranger easily dove under his thrust, and rolled, coming to his feet with his hand axe ready.

Harrod had wanted to charge with his friends, his heart leapt to be at their sides, but something told him to wait, to stand at the Rock, and not let Ash get trapped like a monkey in a tree, or abandon the newcomer, the singer Saeyll. It was her timing in yanking the lean to from the fire that lit the three coming from the South. A horse legs, and a dog face, trailed by another. Their howls of surprise drew Harrod's attention, and his ire. Taking his cue from Marissa, he used the moment for all it was worth, lunging forward and stabbing the the blunt end of his staff deep up under the Horse Legs' ribs. The air rushed out through wide nostrils, and the foul creature staggered, his eyes watering. He grabbed at the staff that had gut punched him, and drove his short sword directly at the young Priests throat. Harrod stepped back, and pushed forward with the staff, shortening his foes reach enough that it's sword found nothing but air.

The Dog face who had accompanied\, him had loped past Harrod without a second thought. He smelled easier supper. A hyoomin female. The fire flaring had blinded him as well, but he was working with smell as well as sight. His feet hit the ground only once more after he passed Harrod, He stood upwards, and towered over Saeyll. Almost seven feet high on his legs, he drove the spear downwards, at her thigh. Perhaps he wanted to pin her, perhaps not, it mattered little. She jumped back, and spun away from the fire, her dress whirling as it did on stage, though the drama here was not pretend.

Harrod growled as one swept past him towards Saeyll. He had hoped to keep them safe from the possibility of physical harm. "Creator protect them," he said as he renewed his vigor at dispatching the one that he was now engaged with in combat.

Seeing the flume of Saeyll's skirts dancing in the fire light, brought Ash's attention back to the scene below her.  She shifted her weight subtly in the high branch, abandoned her bow, and dropped with all of her momentum on the dog face below.  The seldom used knife in her belt was in her hand and she hoped that her perch might allow her some surprise. The branch that had held the lithe girl sprung a little, as she leapt onto the tracker. Its head seemed an unlikely target, so she drove the point of her dagger into it's shoulder. It wasn't a decision based on experience,( the thing's head looked tougher than a wagonwheel), but it paid off nonetheless. The thin bladed dagger slipped between the things collarbones, and drove in deep.

Her first foe dispatched, Marissa looked around quickly, trying to assess what was happening around her. She knew she was lucky.  If the idea of blinding the Orck-kind with the fire hadn't worked, she never would have landed that blow.  Which only made her more peeved.  She noted Ryke's opponent seemed on his last legs, that Harrod was working another one over.  Then she saw Ash fall on the one after Saeyll and she made her decision.

"Garrick, help Harrod!" she called out as she ran toward Ash and Dogface.  "I've got Ash and Saeyll.  Saeyll, get on those ropes!"  she hoped that the pretty singer could keep her wits together enough to let she and Ash handle the Orck.

"Right." Garrick called back, knowing he need only acknowledge he heard Marissa for her to know he would go where he was needed. He spared a glance in Ash's direction and wasn't really surprised to see his friend had dropped from her perch in the tree. Concern for Ash nearly won out over his training and he hesitated torn between helping his foolish friend who hadn't the sense to stay out of these thing's reach or to help the young priest in training. With a muttered, "Ash, if we live through this I'm going to kill you." Garrick turned his full attention to beast on Harrod.

"Stand in..."  Ash began to quip back, but the rancid smell of the beast made her bite off her remark.  It smelled like he'd been rolling in something dead, and the thought of that made the usually fearless rogue shudder.

Ash held on, her legs circling the things slender waist and locking in, one hand in its stinking collar and the other holding onto her dagger giving a twist before she yanked it out, ready to shank him again. The Dogface howled, and was just about to start tiching at the flea on its back, when he saw Marissa Wolvender burst into the firelight at a dead sprint, her sword shoulder high and held back as she charged. Even though she didn't know it, it was a posture used by the famed Sheinaran heavy infantry on the charge, and this particular Orck had seen it before. He was ready for the shoulder high decapitation stroke the young woman delivered.

Even with Ash on his back, he angled his spear and drove its point into the ground, a parry that even the strongest of axemen can't chop through. The heavy broadsword hit the spearhaft at an angle and deflected upwards, ricocheting upwards. The farmer's daughter stopped her charge in a stride and a half, her knees flexing to absorb her momentum, and carry the blade back into line. The Dog face was pulling his spear out of the ground, and Marissa was spinning low, hoping Ash's feet were above its knees.

No dancing or parrying, no armor to speak of, and two joints with no bones. The Orck's powerful legs, bred for speed, turned into useless stumps as her blade arced through them like a scythe. The sulphurous yellow blood fountained as the Dog face fell, carrying Ash with him.

Garrick sprinted the short distance to where Harrod and the Horse legs were fighting in a blink. Long legs full of the vigor of youth and fueled by adrenaline powered him into the melee. He swung the longsword in a high arc and the Horse legs let go of Harrod's spear, and sidestepped bringing his own shortsword into line. He should have raised it into defensive posture. Garricks dagger flashed through the orange firelight and sliced deeply through the Orck's throat, a spray of yellow and the stink of sulphur misting into the air before even the horse knew it was dead, Garrick kept spinning, driving his longsword deep in it's chest, just to be sure.

Just to the West of the fire, Ryke was still locked in combat with the Wolf face, breathing out of one lung, and with one good arm, the thing was tough. Left with only his hand axe, Ryke knew what he had to do. Attack. The axe was a horrible tool to defend with, so he did what came naturally when there was an axe in a Blackwood man's hands. He went to chopping. High from the right, low from the left, horizontally and vertically he assailed his foe. Until the burden of defending his life with one arm became too much, and the hand axe landed hard on the rounded end of its good shoulder.

The honed axe drove through the weak seam in the mail armor, found soft flesh beneath, and shaved through the substantial meat like a butcher's cleaver. The arm hit the earth, and the blood and stink hit him right in the face and chest as the Orck joined its arm in the dirt. The sign of the Gouged eye staring up at the Ranger from the Orcks tunic. For several long moments Ryke could do little but stare at the fallen creature. His first kill. Elation and fear warred within him and he resisted the twin urges of shouting and throwing up with equal success. He wiped one leather sleeve across his brow and scanned the battlefield.

Harrod had no time to think, Garrick's blades had dispatched the Horselegs, but there was another one right behind him, its eyes were yellow, and it had a hog's snout, complete with sharp tusks. It grunted a war cry as it ran into the melee, altering its course to attack the one with the flashing blades from behind. Harrod was more than fast enough to intercept him, his staff whirling in the night air as he stepped away from the blacksmith's son to gain room to work.

The arc of his staff and the timing of the Orck's approach worked out well as Harrod dropped one hand to the other and swung the staff from the end. The shod end of the weapon whirling lighting fast like a fistfighter's right cross, catching the thing right in its Hoggy - jaw. It's head spun to its right, and Harrod thought for a moment he had broken its neck, but the things neck was made of stern stuff, and it came to a stop right in front of the young Priest.

"Yew hit like female." It growled as it rubbed at it jaw. The next thing Harrod knew, he was dealing with the business end of a rather large sword, as the Hogsnout began a vicious attack. The Orck knew it's business, but adrenaline and a little faith kept Harrod a fraction of an inch from it's wicked curved blade.

Enthralled by terror and fascination Saeyll nodded numbly at the instructions, her gaze frozen upon the slaver-soaked muzzle of the menace before her even as she backed towards the tree. At once grateful to Harrod and Ash for their protection she yet cringed at the ferocity of children contending against monsters. The firelight that had spared them now revealed a grim scene from which she could not turn her eyes and as steel and flame glinted red she recalled a fall of white feathers stained with crimson. "I... I will do no harm," she whispered to herself.

Meanwhile in the treeline, Gor'lun the Hornbearer watched. These were no hyoomin cubs, there was an elf warrior there, and that female with the broadword was Sheinar trained, for sure. Vokom needed to know about this. He needed time to get to Vokom, it was an easy order to give, really.

"Kill, them, earn your supper, and your reward!" He commanded Chickenbear face and Goat Face. They needed no prodding, as they burst forth in their mail armor, their swords held high as their animal tainted battlecries erupted into the din of battle. Even as they ran, Gor'lun the Hornblower ran too. But he didn't charge into the fight. Gor'lun the Hornblower ran to his Lord and Master.

Marissa spun around as naturally as anything on her follow-through.  Once more she quickly assessed the situation, her mind going over the strengths and weaknesses of her friends as well as the Orcks they were facing.  She had no idea how much she resembled her grandfather, Reddon Errald, in that one instant.  She gave one quick look back over her shoulder.  "Ash, might wanna help get those ropes ready.  No idea when we'll be getting more company," she said. 

"I'm gonna help Ryke, then help the others if need be." With that, the young woman took off, the action around her not giving her any time to think about why, how or when she learned to do these kinds of things.  All she'd gone to Jordan for was to learn how to swing a sword without cutting herself or someone she didn't intend to cut.  Right?

A half gargle, half growl was the only acknowledgment that Marissa got from Ash, as the imp put every once of her effort from keeping her gags from turning into a wretch.  With some amount of effort, Ash rolled out from under the lifeless reeking torso of the foul beast and crawled over to Saeyll.  When she stood up, her hazel eyes were dull and sick looking.  "Yuck.  Want me ta help?  I could use the bath if I take a tumble."  She picked up a length of the rope, but didn't take it from her companion until she was ready to relinquish it.

The closeness of the voice pulled Saeyll's gaze away from the severed mass of fur and gore that had been her attacker and on to the bedraggled Ash, her features turning from fear to pity. "Oh Ash, you look terrible," she said quietly, a trembling hand brushing strands of burnished hair from the rogue's face.

"Uh...thanks?"  Ash replied quietly, as she looked into Saeyll's glazed eyes.

"Why ever did you cut your hair? It would be so lovely long, I think." The remark had an echo of distraction. "I had short hair once. It was awful. You should be more careful." Whether Saeyll meant in her personal appearance or in battle was unclear.

"Umm...okay?"  Ash replied with a grimace and another gentle tug on the rope.  Realizing that she might have to sit down the stunned dancer and splash some water onto her face.  What was she doing talking about appearances at a time like this?  

Reaching for the hands of the courageous tree-spirit to clean away the filth of battle Saeyll found the slender fingers bound around the rope. "Oh," she said, reminded of her duty. "I was supposed to see to that. I'm sorry. I must have forgotten," came her apology. "Yes, I would like help. How very kind of you." And with a queasy smile and the erratic steps of shock walked stiffly towards the tree.

"Uh...good girl.  Just sit there outta sight."  Ash said with relief, sounding more like the Warden talking to his dog than anything else and like an obedient puppy Saeyll crouched within the deep roots of the tree, her eyes fixed to the obscurity of night.  Once Saeyll was engaged in something other than talking about what a mess the rogue was, Ash sprung into action with the rope in hand, trying to figure out the best way to rig a way down.

Ash's fingers worked quickly wrapping the rough rope round the trunk of the tree and knotting it off. With one hand on the rope, the girl toed the edge of the cliff, and leaned outward, the taut rope holding her at an angle as her eyes searched the darkness below. Twenty feet below the top of the cliff, a rock ledge looked wide enough to get a running start at the first column. Without hesitating, Ash stepped out into the void and turned, using the tautness of the rope to control her descent to the ledge below. With both feet firmly on the ledge, she backed up as far as she could and drew a deep breath, readying herself to leap out into the darkness and swing for the column.

"Wait," came a cautious voice from above. Ash's sudden and acrobatic descent over the ledge had drawn Saeyll back from a dangerous precipice of a different kind. Composure returning she now peered briefly down at the daring aerialist. "Wait," she said again before disappearing. A moment later she returned, a burnt silhouette against the torches in her hand. In quick succession she tossed them far out into the air, aiming for the top of the first pillar to lend a little light to Ash in judging the distance.

Two flaming brands from the fire arced through the early night air, the flash of the light as the first passed the column lit it well for her second throw. The torch cartwheeling high in the air, it's trajectory perfect, as it landed on the top of the first column.

Hearing the orckind behind him, Garrick whirled in time to see Harrod narrowly escape being cut in two by a large sword. "Hey ugly, why don't you pick on someone with a blade?" His voice had the desired affect, as his foe half spun to face him. The longsword flashed in a high thrust that the Hog jowled Orck dodged with a quick lean to it's right. Garrick followed it and made a wide slash with his dagger as a follow - up, but the blade found the mail covering the Orcks chest, and was turned.

Harrod used his foes' momentary distraction to regain his own balance, whwirling the staff from the end once more. The shod and weighted end end of the staff gathering momentum and inertia in an arc more than ten feet in diameter. Harrod actually heard the sounds of the pine needle loam rustling under the balls of his feet as he spun, despite the din of the battle. When the staff finally found it's mark, the impact barely registered in the young acolyte's hands or arms, as if he had barely hit his foe. The cracking of the Hog faced Orck's neck gave the lie to Harrod's impression. The rounded staff landing hard and shattering the vertebrae at the base of its skull. It's eyes went from live, to dead. As if someone had lowered a shade over them, and its knees just stopped working. It toppled into the humus as a marionette with it's strings suddenly vanished, leaving the blacksmith and the priest looking at one another in surprise over it's corpse.

"Good job." Garrick told Harrod. It was one of the few times the young priest had not seen a smile on his friend's face.

Marissa's boots plowed through the pasture grass as she covered the short distance to the goat faced Orck who had burst from the tree-line. At first, it had seemed intent on doing evil to Ryke, but she saw the look of recognition it it's oddly human eyes as it changed its charge to attack the female. The easier prey. Her teeth clenched hard and the broadsword slashed horizontally, fueled by her charge. The goat face jumped back, dodging the blades arc, and Marissa found herself scrambling to keep her balance preparing for the Orck's riposte.

Seeing the goat-faced ork coming from the woods and, despite his fear, still riding the success of his first kill, Ryke drew his knife from his opposite hip and moved to attack the creature. He had the advantage of timing, pressing his attack through it's evasions, an overhead 'hammer strike'  from his tomahawk found flesh. The honed blade sheared through the chain mail, and bit deep. Ryke yanked hard on the axe, and drove his knife hard at the creatures guts, but the mail turned the knife blade. With a roar of pain, the goat face sprayed spittle and what smelled like absessed infected tooth pus all over Ryke's face. His spear point punctured the leather hauberk just under Ryke's armpit, his flesh giving way before the cold metal even easier than the hauberk had. The young ranger let out a grunt of pain and his eyes widened as he realized he'd just been stabbed.

Marissa growled, both at her sloppy swing and at Goatface's successful stab.  Her eyes narrowed as she focused and brought her sword back in line.  Mentally, she knuckled down to remember the training she received.  The maneuvers, the almost-dance steps, and was a little surprised that she was already moving as she was supposed to.  She adjusted her grip so that her wrist remained flexible and swung at the opening Goatface left her.  "Don't count me out, bastard," she muttered.

The Chickenbear face who had been charging in the direction of Garrick had a front row seat to what had happened to Hogsnout, and goat face, and all the rest of his companions. In that moment, if his charge hadn't already carried him into range of the elf stinking warrior's back he probably would have just run. Just run like hell. But there was an elven back turned to him, and to kill an elf was an exalted way to die. He howled his battlecry and drove the heavy sword in a lunge. The impact of the shot knocked Garrick off balance, but the chain mail shirt he wore absorbed the attack, and kept the blade from reaching flesh.

With a grunt Garrick turned to face his attacker bringing both weapons up in defense intent on keeping the creatures attention on him and away from Harrod. The beasts face was a horrible mix of a bears head, with a chicken's beak and a coxcomb, but the worst part was its eyes. Despite the rage and hatred, they were unmistakenly human. Steel flashed and rang on steel, Garrick's whirling longsword slipped under the creature''s guard, and tore a chunk of it's leg away. Chickenbear face saw the dagger strike coming and managed sidestep it, but with one leg hurt, he couldn't avoid the second thrust of the longsword. The honed and polished blade punctured armor, and slid through flesh like melted butter, resting hilt deep just under the Orck's ribcage, protruding from its back. For a moment, Garrick was perilously close to it's beak, but instead of pecking for the half elf's eyes, the Orck slumped to it's knees, and fell over sideways into the leaf-litter and pasture grass.

Marissa's heart pounded in her chest and her feet leapt through the wild grasses as she closed in on the combat between the young woodsman and his foe. She brought the broadsword into line, and used the momentum of her charge to power a nasty sideways swipe at the things lower back, but the metal rings of it's shirt were proof against the blade. With Ryke's axe buried in its shoulder, and its spearhead stuck under Ryke's armpit, the grappling made for limited target selection, but Marissa's follow up attack went low, where it was safer to strike. The broadsword cleaved through the Orck's greaves, and it's yellowish sulphurous blood spurted out into the air.

Shock, and adrenaline were setting in on Ryke, he knew he had a cold Orckish spearhead pushed into his ribs, but at the moment, it really didn't hurt that bad. He jammed downwards on the haft of his tomahawk, a lumber- man's trick to free a stuck blade from hard wood. The vacuum of the wound broke, and the blade pulled free of the Orck's collarbone. Blood and silvered steel arced through the early night air, as Ryke stayed close to his foe, trying to stay inside the effective range of it's spear. He gripped the axe with a white knuckled fervor as he swung it horizontally, driving the crescent moon shaped blade hard against the Orcks, hip bone. One leg ruined by Marissa's attack, and now the other hip wounded, he could no longer keep up with Ryke's frenzied all -out attack. The ranger's dagger ended up in perfect line with the Orck's jaw, and Ryke drove it straight up into the soft tissue behind it's chin. Gore and stench dropped from the new wound, as the cold steel dagger pushed through tongue, and sinus, finding its home deep behind the Orck's eyes. The thing was dead before it hit the ground. Ryke panted heavily and simply stared at the body before a spasm of pain brought him back around. He took half a step back, his head turning this way and that to take in the battlefield. He dropped to one knee, the pain in his ribs overcoming the urge to vomit.

Below the fight Ash stood soundly on the ledge under her friends, safe and sound but ferociously discontent at being unable to help them.  She gathered her breath and held it for a moment before launching herself into the darkness towards the column that awaited her.  The rope was slack as she jumped and she held on tight awaiting for it to grow taught and jerk her, if she had calculated the trajectory just right. For those first few feet, the doubt about her own reckonings were pure terror. The sounds of the Leynn river far below and the battle above faded as the rogue seemed to hang in mid air. She dropped, and as the slack came out of the rope, her shoulder jerked roughly, but the momentum of the swing carried her right into the column.

Her chest hit stone first, then her face and knees. With one hand she slapped at the cold stone, scrambling wildly for a handhold before the pendulum affect swept her back toward the cliff. Slender fingers found a seam in the ancient stone, and she squeezed hard with her feet. She stuck to the column like a spider, her eyes wide as she realized that now she had to climb. First one hand then the other searched for cracks in the stone and found them, her toes finding purchase on the narrowest of ledges and knobs in the rock. It was slow going, but with care and deliberation, one foot at a time, she scaled to the top of the column, finally entering the small circle of light that Saeyll's torch provided.

Above Saeyll kept her eyes if not her thoughts and ears carefully averted from the continuing carnage and focused, her feet braced, her hands upon the rope that was the lifeline, futile though the effort would be should the knot fail.

Breathing heavily, Marissa made a face.  "Gods, but these guys stink!" she said, kicking at Goatface's body.  She turned and quickly surveyed the scene, nodding slightly when she noted consciously what her ears and instincts already told her:  There were no more enemies.  "Ryke, let's get that wound cleaned up and bound at least."  By looking at her and listening to her voice, you wouldn't ever know how close she was to running, screaming into the night to get away from the apparent nightmare they'd gotten themselves into.  Practicality and pragmatism were her rocks in this tumultuous sea and she clung to them with a death grip.

Nodding into the darkness punctuated only by firelight, Ryke stumbled to his feet and, with one hand hovering over his wound, retrieved his weapons with slow, deliberate motions punctuated by the occasional grunt and hiss of pain. He paused to take a deep ragged breath and slowly moved to join the others.

The absence of metal clanging on metal was the only indication to the rogue in the gully below that the battle above was coming to an end.  It didn't even occur to her that her friends might be on the losing end of it, her youth gave her a generous amount of confidence and optimism.  Nimble fingers tied the rope around the thickest of the small tree trunks, first one knot and then another, pulling with all of her weight after tying each. 

When she was done, Ash picked up the torch and waved it three times to indicate to Saeyll that she was safe and sound.  Then she took the same torch, and tried to mimic the dancer's skill by throwing the torch to the next column below to allow her some light to work by.

Saeyll sent a few waves down the rope to acknowledge Ash's signal as well as check the security of the binding. Satisfied she let go the rope and stood listening. All had become still and while the clash of weapons and the rage of war had been terrible upon the ears the quiet that followed was its own horror. Silence was the sound of Death.

"Is everyone alright?" she queried the darkness, peering from behind the tree. Harrod and Garrick, mere contours in the evening, seemed unharmed but of Marissa and Ryke she could see no sign. Returning fireside she freed another torch and held it high and towards the north sending the light where she was yet too fearful to venture.

"Miss Errald? Mr. Blackwood?" In her nervousness she slipped back into formal address. "Please come back now. Miss Rhoiden has made it to the first pillar. We may cross."

"We're comin'," Marissa said as she and Ryke came into view.  "Ryke got a spear stuck in him, but it's not too bad, I don't think. Still, we need to get it bound up at the least."  She sighed and looked over her sword, frowning at the mess, then turned a slight smile to Saeyll.  "I knew if anyone could get down there and do the job, it'd be Ash," she nodded.

"Garrick, wanna see if these guys have anything useful on 'em.  We can't carry a lot, but you never know what we'll be able to find.  I'll help while Harrod helps clean Ryke up."  Stress lines already creased the space between her brows.  In the glow of the fire, her hair shone almost almost blood-red and her usually serious mien looked more grim than anything.  She bent down and ripped a piece of cloth off one of the Orcks and started cleaning her sword.  "Saeyll, would you keep an eye on Ash, please while we get ready to move?  When she's set everything up, we'll start getting people across."

Saeyll nodded quickly and turned not daring to look too closely at Ryke. Seeing the adversary cut down was difficult enough. She was not prepared to see her friendly shade of the forest wounded. Best to leave healing to the hands of Harrod.

Ryke stood still in the fire light, his eyes alternating between his bloody hands and the wound in his side. He looked up with a shaky grin. "I think my da and Nabis might glossed over some of the finer points of battle." He coughed once, wincing. "Like the part about being wounded and it hurting like the blazes."

His lips set in a thin line Garrick set about searching the bodies for anything useful without a word. He had thought his first kill was bad, then they had come across a nearly dead Jar, and now one of his friends was injured who knew how badly. He had wanted adventure but hadn't really known what that would entail and he longed to be home, safe in his own bed.

On her return to the river Saeyll paused beside Garrick as he performed his grim scavenging, handing him the torch with a guarded expression. "Be mindful, Friend. Taking that which did not belong to us is what brought us to this mess to begin with." To the altruist the looting of the dead was akin to collecting payment for slaughter and though her tone was flat her distaste at the behavior was obvious.

In sudden fury the young blacksmith whirled on the strange woman. "Who are you to judge? You weren't even there." His voice had risen to nearly a shout and turning his back to Saeyll he walked off a few paces. He was careful to keep within the small circle of the light provided by the fire but the set of his shoulders said he did not want to be bothered as he looked for anything that might prove useful. There were a few handfuls of coins, with funny looking faces on them. Long noses and bearded men in crowns stamped into the metal.  Garrick's blacksmith's eye noted that the armor of these Orcks was vastly different from the Kobolds' gear. It was of poor construction, without a doubt. (Jordan would have had him lugging coal for a week if he had seamed the rings together without the double link.)

That in and of itself wasn't surprising, what was, was the fact that the armor was all uniform. The same gauged rings and plates, the same rivets, and rivet placements, everything. The Orcks had scrawled on their own armor after that, as decoration, and each every one of them bore the  Sign of the Gouged Eye. Some on their chests, some branded into their own flesh, but invariably they all bore it.

Saeyll's voice and countenance softened. "No. I was not there. But I am here now." In that moment she realized just what that meant. A choice was made.

Garrick heard her but gave no sign of it as he picked through the assorted weapons and gear. More uniformity. All of the spears were the same length, their heads all practically identical. Same with the swords. The handles were a hodgepodge of replacement or decorative hide wrappings, but the length and breadth of them was the same. Even their boots, the ones which wore them, looked as if they'd been stretched over the same cobblers stand. These Orcks hadn't stolen a hodge podge of armor and weapons on their journey to the Four Rivers.

Marissa also whirled to snap something at the singer, but Garrick beat her to it.  Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek and took a deep breath.  All their nerves were frazzled, frayed and almost to the point of breaking, but someone had to keep them all together.  "If we really had a choice, Saeyll, none of us would be here.  We're doin' this to try and keep the town and our families safe.  I'd like nothin' better than to go home to the farm and never set foot out of Lanburg again.  But we stepped into somethin' bigger than that.  None of this...." she gestured to the bloody battleground, "is like any of us thought it would be, but it's real and we've all been raised to do what's right.  Right now, doin' that means gettin' that book to the elves, any way we can.  None of us like riflin' dead bodies for stuff, but there might be somethin' important we'd regret leaving behind."  The effort it took to keep her words even and calm was considerable.

"I'm sorry," Saeyll said first to Marissa and then to Garrick's riled backside. "I did not mean to upset you." Her inflections were marked by sincerity and while she had unwittingly stirred the others she felt calm for the first time in hours. "I will see to Ash and the crossing." There was more to say but she recognized now was not the time.
 
Ryke let out a heavy breath and sank to the ground. "I'm just going to sit down a bit." He waved a hand dismissively. "No rush."

Turning to the the young priest before returning cliffside Saeyll beseeched, "Harrod, after you have seen to Ryke will you pray or... administer rites to these... them?" Her hurried glance indicated the fallen husks of the enemy. There was no time to bury them yet she would not leave them as they were. Even these amalgams were men, if only in part.

Harrod had quietly watched the play of the scene that transpired. He knew the rush of battle-lust had it's waning grip upon Marissa and Garrick, and that the two of them would be less argumentative once the heat subsided. He looked upon the stranger that had arrived just recently, wondering how she had come to be here with this group. He recalled her from some of the ceremonies he had attended with the Rector.

"Ryke," he said. "Come here." The young priest's tone was calm, almost soothing after the harsher words that had flown from some of the others. His voice, however, indicated his words to Ryke were not merely a suggestion. With a groan Ryke stood and stepped over to the young priest. "Bandages alone will not help this," he continued after examining the wound. "It will only tear further as we traverse the exit we are making."

"That doesn't sound good," Ryke agreed with a wan smile.

Harrod then raised his hands a little, palms upward, and prayed. "Blessed Creator," he began. "Grant me, again, the glory of your power. Defiant against evil,  he has taken wounds in defense of others. Heal him of these wounds so that we may further our journey to lead the evil away from this peaceful land."

Harrod then placed his hands upon Ryke where the spear had pierced him. To Harrod the wound felt cold, and the Creator's gift warm. To Ryke it felt the opposite, his wound was a searing pain that ran white hot, and deep, but the power that moved between them felt like a cold, cleansing rush. 

The young priest felt a tickling at the base of his neck, as the fine hairs stood on end. Ryke's ligaments mended, and pulled his ribs back into place, the small nick in his lung sealed, and the tendons of his shoulder pulled his upper arm back tightly against the socket. His nerve endings, with little more to complain about quieted, and the pain was gone. Ryke stood still, his eyes wide with shock. He opened his mouth but no words came out and he simply watched the priest as he walked away, only looking at his now-healed wound after several long moments.

Harrod then walked over to Saeyll. He could sense that anxiety gripped her, and  that the desperation in her voice was born from her mild state of shock. He placed his hand gently upon her. "Do not let their reactions upset you," he told her with a gentle voice.

He had been with Rector Schenwar, before, when the elder priest had spoken to others in a similar state. He hoped his rhythm and tone matched the Rectors. "They  spoke from the rush of battle. Talk to them again, once their hearts race no more with the fuel of anger and battle heat. They are good people," he continued. Harrod looked over at the fallen Orkind. "There are no words granted by The Creator to say over the bodies of such as these. The old gods will provide a place for them. Of that I am sure. Do not let their passing this way cause you additional grief. Drink this", he told her as he handed her a skin of water. "We must make haste to be downriver soon, and you look thirsty." Saeyll could sense no mockery or even disappointment in the young priest's voice.

Saeyll accepted the water skin and drank eagerly, suddenly aware of how parched the run across the pasture lands had left her. Forcing herself to stop when it was nearly drained she returned it, embarrassed by her gluttony. "Thank you, for that and for your concern. I am not upset but I understand why they may be. I should have given more thought to my words." Chiding herself with a sigh she pulled her dagger free and began cutting short lengths of rope. Looping the makeshift zip lines over the cable tied by Ash she considered. "Is Ryke well mended? Will he be able to hold tightly enough to slide down?" She was wondering if she herself would be strong enough to the task.

Harrod looked over to Ryke. Ryke, smiling broadly now, stripped out of his torn leather jerkin and shirt, revealing a young, taut physique on the verge of adulthood. He poke and probed the area around his 'wound', finding only a light scar. It still ached, but more like a bruise might rather than a spearhead. Still grinning he wiped away some of the drying blood and tossed his shirt aside and moved to retrieve his pack.

"Aye," Harrod nodded. "He'll be fine. And never you mind chiding yourself. None of us, I think, are truly prepared for what lay before us. Saeyll, isn't it, " he asked her. A mind not focused on the conflict is a mind ready to move on, the Rector had often told Harrod. "I remember hearing you sing at the Ladner wedding. You have a lovely voice. Now," he continued. "Let's see to the others and get ourselves down to the riverbank. We'll be able to put a lot of distance between us those Orkind once we cross and then sever the rope."

And a lot of distance between us and home, thought Saeyll as she finished tying the last of the lines. "I'm ready," she said. 

While they were talking, Garrick stacked what he thought might be useful near the fire, keeping what appeared to be the more valuable objects separate so as not to accidentally leave them behind. He then gathered Ash's belongings, planning to carry them for her to the other side. It was a small act of kindness but he needed it to remind him he wasn't like the creatures they had fought.

While the frustrated and blood soaked teenagers fought both their emotions and their tempers, the usual troublemaker was oblivious to the drama above her.  Ash peered over the edge of the column as Saeyll's lit torch sailed through the night, using it to gauge the distance to the next column below her.  Satisfied that she had it in her mind, as well as she could, she turned and sprinted into another running jump.  The stench that surrounded her, wafting from her own soiled clothing was a constant reminder of how urgent the situation was, until the night air swept past her and the smell of the river sweeping by a few dozen feet beneath her filled her lungs.

The great grey column appeared suddenly out of the night, a sudden wall of granite, emerging from shadow. Her shoulder slammed into it, followed by her head. Ash cried out in pain from the impact, but she was too far below to be heard.  One hand, and the opposite foot found purchase, and for long moments she clung to the rock, which still retained the cold of deep winter in it's core. Icy waters roared past its base, and sucked any heat out of the ancient stone. Once the stars had cleared, and her lungs refilled with air, she began the climb up the second and shorter of the two columns. Her fingers were numb from the cold and her shoulder ached when she reached the top and rolled over onto her back.

She took a few short moments to just lay there with her eyes closed.  Her courage and will were still firmly in tact, but her body was being taxed in ways that she hadn't endured in quite some time.  Rolling to her knees again, she scrambled forward with the rope in tow and found an outcropping to secure the rope to.  She tied one knot and then another, testing each with all of her slight weight.  Once satisfied she looked triumphantly at the bank below and took another running leap in hopes of landing on the safer bank at the river's shore.

The knots held, and the scouts swing took her right along the surface of the water to the far side. Even trying to swing wide, she had to raise her knees high to keep her feet from dragging in the water. When she was about to get wet anyway she let her feet down, the shock of the icy water shooting up her spine made her gasp. Her feet found the sandy bottom in about waist deep water, but the river flowed strong this time of year, and her feet slid in the sand. Swept out from under her, they took off down river, sending her under. There was no doubt in her mind that the river had been ice very very recently. Only the fact that she had been concentrating on not losing the damned rope kept her from being swept away. She drove her toe into the sand and anchored herself to stand up, and breathe the warm air.

It took a mighty effort on the rogues part to set herself against the raging waters, and she half screamed, half gasped for air as she pushed towards the shore.  Her lungs felt raw from the frigid water that had forced itself down her throat during the struggle, and she continued to gasp and cough as she powered forward.  Holding on vigilantly to the rope she made the final steps towards the sandy shore of the opposite beach before collapsing in exhaustion and relief.

It was hard to think through the shivers that seized her body, but a part of her found herself thinking of Saeyll, and how fortunate it was that the dancer didn't have to endure what she had.  She also found herself thinking how much she would have wished Garrick to have endured it, instead of herself.  With an irrepressible grin, that nobody was witness to, she pushed herself up on all fours and crawled up the bank.

Quickly gathering her wits about her, Ash secured the rope tightly to a nearby willow root, and stripped out from under her freezing shirt.  She was about to do the same with her tight trousers, but thought better of it, almost certain that it would be an impossible task.  The humid night air began to warm her, but she still felt frozen from the inside out.  She slung her shirt towards a nearby boulder with a 'what can ya do' shrug, and wrapped her arms around herself in a feeble attempt to keep her body heat in.  It occurred to her that the icy river had sucked the energy and heat out of her, just as it had the ancient columns, unfortunately she wasn't quite so sturdy.

Harrod turned to quickly  survey the fallen Orkind. He saw what he was looking for and hefted a shield off one of the fallen beasts. He knew he could not use it with his staff, but he had a feeling it would come in handy one day soon. He then saw the other item he was looking for. He spied a glint of metal that winked only momentarily from under the bloodstained and grimy tunic that the fell creature wore. Harrod removed the chainmail and prepared it and the shield to be transported with the rest of the gear. He knew he had to wait until they were safely down before he could put it on.

Before making the descent Garrick stripped off the chain shirt he was wearing. This battle had made him realize he fought better in lighter armor and he picked out a suit of studded leather that looked as if it might fit. He would have to clean it up in the river before wearing it but he would be able to move better in the future.

Seeing that, Ryke, too, scanned the fallen to choose a suit of studded leather armor that would both fit well enough and seemed less damaged. The armor was sturdier than the leather cuirass he currently wore but would still afford him a good range of motion and, more importantly, was much less likely to rattle or clink as compared to the metal shirts some of them wore. He dropped to his knees and fished his extra shirt out of his pack, pulling it on quickly before trying on the chosen armor. He stood, waved his arms, bent and twisted and, satisfied, retrieved his spear and pack and moved to join the others.

**pushdown**

Each of the young travelers, the wild geese leading the chase now, had to make that first step. Each in their own mind felt the fear and exhilaration as the ground swept out from under them. They heard the Roar of the Leynn River far below, and saw the columns appear out of the night. Harrod went first, as bearer of the book and the best able to help anyone who might arrive at the bottom injured.

Harrod gripped the ropes. His prayers to the Creator answered, the priest felt his spirits lighten momentarily with the rush and thrill of the swing and slide. He pressed forward, eager to be down and safe.

It was decided that Saeyll would go next. The more folks at the bottom, the fewer there were to defend the top. For a moment she hesitated, unsure, the soft soles of her slippers curling over the ledge, her hands fast upon the rope. Leaning forward she was met by the rush of nothingness from below, her hair rising in waves about her. The sensation was astonishingly familiar. And comforting. She opened her eyes and let herself be swept from the heights, down, down, gliding on currents of wind and water to arrive with a twist and step upon the ancient dais.

Safely on the second column, with Saeyll perched on the one above him, and Ash safe on the ground below, Harrod had an idea. Communication was hard, with the sounds of the river, but a few minutes of yelling from one station to another, and Ryke had begun rigging everyone's pack and gear, and they were slid down from point to point to arrive at the bottom, where Ash lined them up. Making the treacherous slides without the weight of their packs had to be safer.

Ryke was next. With the packs at the bottom, it should be that much easier to do this. He flipped the rope handle over the sliding line, and stepped off the bluff. He paused, controlling his breath and adjusting his grip, until he was sure he was good to continue. The top of the slide proved easier than the bottom. He had only looked down for a moment, and even that wasn't as fearful as he thought. Much like some of the playing they had done in the creeks and rivers around town. The brief distraction cost him. He thought he'd be able to time the drop to the surface with ease, but when he looked back up, the tree that Ash had tied the line to was right in front of him. He hit it hard, and dropped onto the precipice of the top of the column. His fingers scrabbled for purchase, vines and roots filling his clenching fists as he began to slide faster over the edge... he was going to fall.

And then Saeyll was there. Her slender hands wrapped his wrists, and though she wasn't particularly strong, she flopped onto her stomach, and stopped the Ranger's perilous slide. Kicking his feet and pulling for all he was worth, he gained the top of the column in a panting heap.

"Are you alright?" Saeyll asked breathlessly, her head low beside the young man, her hand upon his back. He could sense her body shivering with the rush of cold adrenaline. She kept quivering, could not stop, even when she fell back to sit upon her knees, her hand over her mouth to muffle a scream, could not still herself even as Ryke looked at her. And then he realized she wasn't shivering. She was laughing. The dam of tension broke and her laughter came cascading down like wind chimes over a waterfall.

Ryke rubbed at his hands, trying vainly to clean some of the dirt off. "I'm fine," he said shortly, then allowed himself a nervous laugh. "And thanks." He looked back over his shoulder at the offending tree, then the cliff, and suppressed a shiver of his own. He was smiling openly when the he turned back. "Not that I'm not grateful, but if you wanted to quit laughing any time soon I'd be grateful for  that, too."

"Sorry," she said trying unsuccessfully to tame a smirk. "It must be the heights." Her head tilted as she reconsidered. "Well, that and the tree." Her head tilted towards the other side. "Mostly the tree." Pulling herself up she offered her hand again to Ryke to help him stand, a mute apology for the amusement at his expense. She could not resist but cringed as she nodded towards the offending tree and remarked, "We're lucky its bite wasn't even worse than its bark."

During her second decent Saeyll had time to consider certain vulnerabilities and nearly let go her hold to defend them. No one was in the water below and had there been it was much too dark to see; even so she was grateful for the modesty of pantaloons. Another rush, a swell of air, and she crashed gracefully upon the second piling, adjusting her breeches, just in case, for the last stretch.

"Ya made it!"  Ash hollered above the rushing sound of the river.  She ran forward and quickly helped the healer steady his self and his belongings.  Once he had his feet under him, she wrapped her arms tightly around her middle, making it painfully obvious, that not only was she naked from the waist up, but she seemed oblivious to that fact.

Harrod looked a moment, looked away, then back. He scratched his head as he caught his breath. He shrugged, then took off his shirt. "First Ryke, now you. Apparently it's what all the kids are doing these days," he said with a laugh.

Ash looked down at the offered shirt and took it with an appreciative smile.  "Thanks!"  His shirt was damp, but not nearly as drenched as her own had been.  She shook it twice to loosen it, but with all of the emotion of the others descending, was distracted from the task before she could complete it.

Marissa watched both Garrick and Ryke as much as she could.  If need be, she'd help Garrick for a few moments before taking to the ropes.  Fortunately, there wasn't such a need.  She watched Ryke miss that first column and swallowed heavily.  Once assured that he was all right, and Saeyll was on her way to the second column, she slipped her handle over the rope.  She looked over her shoulder and grinned a little.  "Here goes nothin'!" she said.  Then she was off and away.

Her arrival on the top of the first column was significantly easier than Ryke's.  Her eyes were wide, though and her excited breathing lent color to her cheeks he could almost see despite the darkness.  "Wow!" she laughed breathlessly as he helped steady her a little.  "That was kinda fun!"

"Yeah," Ryke smirked. "Fun." He took a deep breath and sent himself flying toward the second column. He was much more attentive this time around and the landing was much less eventful. Or painful.

Despite her tired arms and legs and everything else Saeyll slid down the last rope with relaxed ease. The chill water that tickled her feet and then drowned her ankles was a shock, but it was the sight of Ash that froze her upon landing. She turned to signal the others to pause and allow the girl - the young woman! - time to robe, but it was too late. Gravity cared not at all for propriety and propelled Ryke to the first topless beach of the Four Rivers, if not the whole of Cozeroth. Saeyll sought for a distraction but managed only a strangled expression, a blush of vermillion for Ash's sake, and the instinctive clutching of her own bosom.

"Wow!  Good catch with Ryke.  That was a close'un."  Ash said enthusiastically as a very wet Saeyll made her landing.

Marissa didn't need to help Garrick all that much, but she at least made sure he had good footing before getting ready to make her move to the second column.  "Don't forget to cut that rope," she said with a nod.  "See you next leg," she grinned and was off, this time more eagerly than the last. Her safe arrival she greeted with another short laugh. 

"I know I probably shouldn't be having this much fun, considerin' the circumstances and all but... I can see why Ash does some of the things she does," she grinned.

As soon as Marissa was safely on the pillar, Garrick pushed off from the edge of the cliff with a loud whoop. He knew he shouldn't be having so much fun but it was hard not to get caught up in the excitement of flying out over the water. With a shouted, "Look out below!" he landed next to Marissa with a huge grin.

The third leg of the trip was equally as uneventful for the young ranger. Ryke knew what he was doing now, and despite being weary from travel and battle--and a slight stitch in his side--he managed the slide with some semblance of grace.

Once more, Marissa extended her hand to her friend to help steady him.  "One more to go," she said breathlessly.  "Let's get this done and get the heck outta here!"

"We'll have to do this again when we don't have orcks after us." He told his friend, grinning from ear to ear.

"I was thinkin' the same thing!" she laughed, then she pushed off for the final slide grinning like mad the whole time.  She landed on the bank easily enough and moved out of the way, only to be greeted as the others were, by a wet, shirtless Ash and hugs from the rest as well.

She then gaped at the lithe form of the rogue, not quite able to hold back the laugh. "Ash!  What happened to your shirt?  Did the river steal it from you?!"

"Uh...I fell in."  She said, almost sheepishly.  Feeling rather silly that of all of them, she was the only one to have fallen in. "Figured I'd better take it off or I might freeze ta death."

For his part Ryke almost missed the fact that Ash was topless. It wasn't until Marissa's comment that he made note of the distinct lack of covering. He couldn't help but gawk, his own face flushing furiously, before he quickly averted his eyes and stepped away.

"W-what...I mean, uh..." He swallowed heavily and tried to look at the others, but there was no way for him to not notice the clinging fabric of the other ladies' shirts. If anything his face grew redder and, with a nervous clearing of the throat, he busied himself adjusting nothing in particular on his armor, his pack and his belt, studiously avoiding looking anywhere else.

"What?!"  Ash said defensively at the stares from Saeyll and Marissa.  Realizing the issue, she began to busy herself with putting on the shirt that Harrod had offered.  But it wasn't as easy as one might think to get a shirt back on a soaking body.  Every inch of the sleeve clung annoyingly to her wet flesh.

Garrick began the last slide to safety. His friends were all below him, the gear was already down. This should be a piece of cake. He flipped the handle over the sliding rope, and began to slide to the Eastern shore of the Leynn River. For the first time in his life, Garrick regretted his keener elven night vision. While he was still over the business section of the river, The group came into view below him. Ash without a shirt, Sayell and Marissa were soaked to the bone, and their garments clung in a particularly fascinating manner...

Years later, Garrick wouldn't be able to say what had happened in that moment. He was sliding, and in control, he saw them, and he fell. Sometimes, for a young man, it's as simple, and stupid as that. He plummetted thirty five feet into twelve feet of Leynn River. Glacial runoff swept the feeling from his finger and toes almost immediately, and he felt the warmth rushing from his arms and legs. He forced himself to the surface just in time to see the rope that came unfurling through the night air, thrown by his friends.

They hauled him out of that river like a 180 pound Whiskerfish. Soaked and shivering, but otherwise unharmed.

"Ah geesh!"  Ash said in relief as Garrick coughed and crawled his way onto the shore.  Her face pale and sick from thoughts of her chum getting washed down river with the current.  "What happened to ya?!"  She finally asked in an accusing tone.

"Um... ah... I slipped." Garrick said staring at Ash's chest.

Marissa, also fearing for her friend's life came up and smacked him sharply on the back of the head.  "Dammit!  You scared us all to death and back!  I thought I'd have to go back and tell your dad that Orcks didn't get you, but the river did!"  She may have sounded angry, but it was fueled by fear of losing him, rather than being truly angry.  Then she noted his gaze and snorted softly.  "Ash... go get some dry clothes on.  You too, numbskull," she said to Garrick.  "We gotta make tracks soon as we're able."

"I'm tryin' ta."  The chastised rogue retorted as she tugged both of her hands through the clinging fabric.

"Hey, what was that for." Garrick grabbed the back of his head and glared at Marissa.

He glanced back at Ash, trying not to be obvious about it. "And the night's warm enough. No hurry for dry clothes. We do have to get moving soon though." He added reluctantly.

Ash jerked the top of Harrods shirt shut and began to button it, glaring at Garrick the entire time. "This is all yer fault."  She grumbled.

"My fault? How do you figure that?" Garrick smirked at her. "At least I wasn't the first to fall in."

"My job was a LOT harder."  Ash insisted with an intense glare.  "All ya had ta do was hold on, ya big oaf."

"You still haven't explained how it was my fault." Garrick shot back. The verbal sparing felt good after the tension of the fight. Something familiar and normal from before the chaos their lives had become.

Ash held her glare on his stoic blues for a long moment before shrugging her shoulders.  "I don't remember now.  Jist don't go an get stupid."

"I wouldn't think of it. That's your job." Garrick grinned.

When the last rope was cut and dry shirts donned, the group began to turn their attention to the darkened land under the forest canopy. The dark night grew even darker in there, and they all knew it was going to be rough going, trying to make any time amongst the roots and vines of the forest. Ryke had begun to move into the forest, looking for a game trail to make the going easier, when a loud and long horn call broke the night. Born on the western shore of the river, it seemed like it was right above them as it echoed off the trees.

"Breeeeeeeeeeeeee-yaaaaaaaaaaaa......".

All eyes spun and looked up. At this distance at night, there was nothing to see, but the noises told them all they needed to know. Jeering and yelling voices, mixed with the sounds of the river. The Orcks had gained the bluffs. A horse legs carrying a torch from their own fire launched himself out into space, giving a horrible cry of battle. Even with his equine lower half he couldn't simply jump to the first column. He smacked into the side about a third of the way down. Torch, and Orck tumbled into the river, The torch simply hissed and disappeared, but the Orck landed with a screaming splash, sending water high into the air.

Marissa's eyes became wide with both fear and fascination.  Then she turned to Ash and wondered just how the hell the young woman actually managed the feat.  However, she was incredibly grateful that she had.  Then she looked up again and knew that sooner or later, one of them would accomplish the same goal.

Saeyll, her composure recovered now that everyone else was re-covered, huddled safely behind the others. "At least they're not very intelligent," she offered, her head cocked as her eyes fell with the torch.

"Neither is a boar or a treecat," Ryke supplied. "But both will kill you just the same if you cross their path." His hand tightened on his spear, his eyes still watching the river. "And boars and treecats don't use swords."

Saeyll replied with a sidelong glance. She was beginning to suspect Ryke was something of an optimist.

Then another, with the equine legs launched himself into the night air, this one with a rope tied round his waist. He hit the side of the column, but could not find a grip on it's stony surface. Rather than falling to his death, he swung back towards the bluffs, and broke his neck when his head hit first. His corpse hung there limp as a boned fish against the cliff wall.

"Ouch."  Ash said, her gaze set in rich fascination on the unfolding scene.

The stocky young woman winced at that, but then she started prodding.  "Let's go.  One of 'em's bound to make that leap sooner or later," she said.  "Let's head for the rice fields and see if we can lose our scent there at least for a while?"

Eager to be away, eager to avoid another confrontation, Saeyll already had her pack swung over shoulder.

Ryke seemed fascinated by the orkinds' attempts but, with a sigh and a shrug, turned to join the others, moving quickly ahead to find the trail.  After a second call over his shoulder, Ash fell in line, but her quick energy and sure step from earlier in the afternoon was missing.  It was easy to tell that the scout was not holding up as well as he was over the duration of their day.