No more than twenty minutes after Oran and Ash headed up the hillside, the two reappeared out of the gloom and rain, their faces telling a story that was unmistakably bad.

Oran trotted the last few yards down the hill and into the midst of the others. "Risos is up there, and in a bad way."He began, loud enough for all to hear. "There are a lot of little.... goblins... or somethin' up there and they got him tied up.  They don't seem to have guards out and are preoccupied with something, I think we all need to see it in person. A horse could sneak up on them in this rain."

Ash gave Oran a chastising look, for painting such a grim picture.  Already her imagination was stacking the odds in their favor.  "The good news, is.  Risos is alive.  So we gets ta keep our promise ta the Widow."

Lucas knew it!  Goblins, he said.  Monsters in the woods.  Kidnapped he was, but children they weren't.  This whole thing was turning out to be a nightmare.  Maybe his brother was right all along.  Maybe he wasn't cut out for this.  Maybe he had made a mistake...

Lucas scooted back under Harrod's shelter.  Maybe, if he sat still enough in the shadows, they might forget he was even there.

"Goblins? Here?" Harrod almost couldn't believe what he had heard. "If we can get there without being noticed, then I think we should try. We just have to make sure we don't rush into anything. There are only six of us, and it won't do Risos any good if we get into trouble."

Harrod glanced back at Lucas. He was worried about the young mage, for sure, but they would need to rely on everyone depending on what they found. The priest hoped he would have a chance to talk with Marissa before things went too far.

Marissa turned a bit pale at the news.  There went her hope that they weren't dealing with humanoids.  Even if they were gobllins or goblin-like, as Oran said.  Still, there were promises to try and keep and she firmed her spine on them.  "How many of them are there?" she asked.

Ash screwed her face up in response, trying to decide how best to deliver the news in a fashion that would be well received.  "Well..."  She looked around at the gathered group again, still trying to figure out how to minimize the news.  "There's plenty for each of us.  I'd say a fistful a piece.  Twenny ta thirty there abouts."

Lucas gave an involuntary shudder and frowned.  Plenty for each.  The rogue made it sound as if they were splitting a bag of coins.

"Well, maybe we won't have to actually fight that many if we can either scare them off or hurt enough of them for them to run away?" Marissa posed the question with raised eyebrows.  She turned to Lucas and put one hand on his shoulder and the other on his cheek.  "Either way, we need everyone and we can't let Risos stay in the hands of those bullies, right?" she asked, knowing her phrasing would catch his attention and she hoped it would firm his spine a little.

Lucas could have thought of many things at that moment.  Lost in the woods, exhausted from the hike, cold and wet from the rain, facing insurmountable numbers and certain danger, he stared up at Marissa as she touched his face with a look of mild confusion on his face.  He could have thought of many things.  The only thing he could focus on at that particular moment was the softness of her fingertips on his cheek.

"Or...we might could slip in when thar sleepin' and catch 'em all off guard."  Ash said, as inwardly she wondered if they should slit their throats, in their sleep.  She knew nothing of these creatures.  Were they all bad?  Were they like dangerous animals?  ...or were they just misguided like the criminals that the Warden would drag back to town.

Garrick had listened to the news with a grim expression.  He nodded as ideas were bandied about, as they had mirrored his own thinking. "Or someone could cause a distraction and try to draw them off while the others mount a rescue mission.  Whatever we do, we can't leave Risos to this fate."

He drew his sword and looked at the blade. "Did anyone see a pass where we could draw them into a bottleneck to hold them off if we need to make a running retreat?"

Oran thought for a moment, and shrugged. "I've not seen any bottlenecks around here, but I'm no expert on the local terrain."

Harrod couldn't believe what he was hearing. They couldn't actually think the odds were in their favor, could they?

"Thirty?!" he asked incredulously. "The odds are almost five to one against us. And how many of us could hold our own againt five armed opponents? Now I know we said we were to get Risos for the Widow, and I intend to. I don't think it will do any of us good getting killed in the process however." <i>Plenty for each of us?</i> he said to himself.

"We need to find a way to rescue him with the least chance for combat. To do that, however, we need to know more. I still say we should sneak closer since Oran said the rain will mask us. We need as much information as possible before we stumble into something blindly."

Ash reached out and slugged Harrod hard in the shoulder. "Ya jist need ta calm down.  We're all gonna go up there and take a look.  ...but it don't hurt nothin', nothin' at all to have a lil bit of a plan, jist in case we happin' to stumble on one of 'em waterin' the bushes."

Absently, Lucas had scooted forward from under the canopy to better hear the debate.  "I agree with Harrod," he said after a hearty clearing of his throat.  Despite his efforts, his voice remained weak and quivered with the cold.  "There's too many.  There's got to be another way..."

In mid sentence, his eyes were drawn to the small fire they'd built.  It was little more than embers, dying quickly in the rain, but warm even still.

"Maybe..." he said quietly, still staring hard into the tiny flickering flames, "Maybe a distraction is just what we need..."

"I think, we should go up there...an sit it out till they go ta sleep.  That'll leave only a few of 'em at watch, then our fistful each should go down considerably."  Then she turned her attention back to Harrod.  "Ya spend too much time dwellin' on the facts as they are.  Think about them as they will be."

"And you don't spend enough time dwelling on the facts. Instead you focus on what you imagine the facts to be," Harrod said as he spun and faced her. "Your rash and impetuous actions are one thing when it's just you. Look around, Ash. It's not just your skin on the line. I know we need a plan. I was the one that said we need more information. You, if I recall, said 'there was plenty for all of us' as if this was the opening of the spring fest and we were hunting for hidden sweets." Harrod was about to continue but caught himself and stormed off into the rain towards the hand cart.

"Jist trying ta keep a positive outlook."  She shrugged her shoulders knowing that Harrod was already out of earshot.  To the others she said, "They have two camp fires...but it's sputterin' so bad that it's of no use ta them.  They also gots 'em a camp, some lean-tos and even some rough lookin' log shelters.  ...but the goblins...they were different colors, green n gray n some orange 'uns.  And they had long tails!  I've never seen anything like 'em.  All of 'em were armed and there were some wearin' black sashes and some wearin' red 'uns...but you'll be able ta see fer yerself."  She gave Lucas an encouraging nod of her head, hoping that her description of the goblins would pique his interest.

"Well, Lucas seems to have an idea," she spoke up with a smile.  "Let's hear it, huh?"  Privately, she was also worried about Ash's cavalier attitude.  Heck, she was worried about her own, even if it wasn't as cavalier as the other young woman's.  Dealing with a small pack of wolves was one thing.  This was quite a bit different.  "If we can get them, or most of them, away from camp long enough, we can get Risos and start high-tailing it back to the Widow's."

Garrick watched Harrod's outburst with surprise.  He didn't like their odds at some kind of frontal assault either and wouldn't have suggested such an idea, which was why he had suggested causing a distraction to draw them off first.  But he suspected there was more to Harrod's anger.  Ash's suggestion had been outrageous, to be sure, but she often said things for shock value, not because she was seriously considering such a thing.

He was glad that Lucas had picked up on the distraction idea and was interested in hearing his proposal.  Garrick had an idea too, but it seemed more like a last resort than a viable option.

Ash's gaze followed the others' to rest on Lucas.  She gave him a smile and a nod of encouragement, as eager as the others to hear what he had to say.  She still liked the idea of falling upon them when they were sleeping, but if someone else had a better idea, she was all for it.

Before Lucas could start in, though, Ash threw a look over her shoulder towards Harrod and called to him.  "Harrod, Lucas has an idea!  Why dotcha come on back, and take a listen."   She didn't know him very well, not well at all, but she knew that he had to be feeling as scared as any of the rest of them.  The warden called her fearless, and her stomach was churning so bad she thought she might be sick...so she couldn't imagine how badly some of the others were feeling.

Harrod finished gathering what he was searching for from the hand cart. He returned with a couple blankets and handed one to Oran than the other to Ash. "It won't do for either of you to catch your death from the weather," he said has he went to the lean-to and grabbed the food he had put aside. "And you need to eat something before we set off." Harrod handed Ash and Oran their share he had prepared. "Why don't we all sit under the shelter, where it's dry, and let Lucas tell us what is on his mind."

At first, the young man shied from the attention.  He swallowed, wary of the eyes upon him, but knew that since he had already opened his mouth, there was no avoiding it.  "I dunno," he said, "Maybe it's not such a good idea..."

"Out with it, Lucas."  Oran said, the cold was starting to set into his bones, and having already seen what straits Risos was in atop the hill, he could only imagine the boys ongoing misery.

Lucas grimaced under pressure but finally caved.  "This canvas, it's oiled right?  I figure we could make a man -- out of sticks and wet leaves, maybe a sword would do nicely -- and cloak him in this cover.  We could stick him up on the hill there..."

His words tapered off and his lips screwed up in a knot as he thought about his plan.  "We need more, though..."  His eyes began to sparkle from the fire and he smiled, just a little.  Looking up, he went on.  "Ash, you and Oran and Harrod could set about on their flanks.  In the dark, stir up some trouble, noises and the like.  Goblins is a skittish lot, right?  Marissa and Garrick can set the straw man on the crest -- we can use the widow's handcart to send him down!"  Lucas reached forward and drew out a stick from the fire, his eyes mischievous.  "It might smoke some, but should burn still, right?"

"It should definitely burn, Lucas," Harrod replied as he listened intently to Lucas' idea. The kid had a sharp mind, that was for certain. "I think you might be onto something."

Thoughts still churning at a pace even he wasn't used to, Lucas continued to search for more.  The toe of one boot dug itself into the soft wet earth where the rainwater was puddling.  He reached down and swiped at it, coming up with a handful of dark mud, and inspected it.  He then proceeded to smear it across his left arm, from wrist to crook.  "Like ghosts..." he whispered.  "Shadows in the night."

Ash had been nodding along enthusiastically with his idea.  She especially liked the idea of the rolling cart and the fire.  ...but the mud was most certainly her favorite.  Once the story was done, however, and she thought it through, she wasn't sure that it wasn't a bit more elaborate than what they needed.  ...but she remained quiet and waited for the others to speak before chiming in.

"That's a mighty excitin' idea, Lucas.  And rollin' in mud is a goldmine!  ...but I still think slippin' in all quiet like when they're a sleepin' might'n serve us better.  ...but whatever ya'll wanna do.  I jist worry about countin' much on fire on a rainy night."

Garrick nodded thoughtfully, clearly appreciating the ideas presented.  He eyed Lucas in a new light.

 "Those are good ideas, indeed, but I still think we should all at least go and see for ourselves." Oran said. "Then we can spot out a good place for the plans."

Marissa listened to it all.  As someone who had an older brother until just a few years ago, she knew the power of distraction.  She nodded thoughtfully.  "Sounds like a good plan, but we definitely need to get up there ourselves and see the lay of the land."

With a majority consensus the group dropped their unnecessary items, and headed up the hill.  All found it difficult going, as the rain turned the ground into a slick mess under their feet.  The rain seemed to be growing harder, and the darkness deepened into the inky blackness of true night under the forested canopy. Grabbing at branches and tree trunks and pulling themselves up the hill one step at a time, they finally reached the top, and the clearing of the campers.

The scene before the youths was much the same as Oran and Ash had described it.  Risos lay bound hand and foot in a deepening puddle, soaked to the bone and shivering, and the 'goblins' were still clustered about the middle of the clearing, but where before they were agitated, they now seemed furious with one another. They were seemingly divided into two groups, facing one another across a sputtering and mostly drowned fire.  Two leaders seemed to be fighting, one wearing a red sash,  and one wearing a black.

"Grizka is shit head!" the red sashed yelled, audibly through the rain. "Grizka say, we escape from Vokom, we take Vokom's precious chest, and we be rich, we go to winter sun, and take what we want from soft hyoomins!" He said, motioning at the black sashed leader everytime he said the name Grizka, and turning to face his faction as if pleading his case.

"But what we git? Chest has no gold, only stoopit leaves! Vokom chase us to land of winter sun, and  Soft hyoomins have nothing worth taking! Now we starve, and what Grizka say?!  Grizka say 'eat the 4 legs, but leave hyoomin cub, we trade him for gold'! Stoopit Grizka! We starve and hyoomin cub look tasty!!"

Turning to his faction once more the ugly critter yelled, "Togo say, we eat hyoomin cub, and scatter, and leave Grizka and his chest of leaves to Vokom's mercy!!" At this the red sashes all nodded and yelled, and pounded their chests, and waved their weapons.

At all of this, the leader of the black sashes seemed unimpressed. "Togo spend too much time in bright sun, it bake your brain! We can't go back, Vokom is back. We can't go forward, cuz hyoomins all over ugly green land. We trade hyoomin cub for gold, and safe passage through ugly green valley, and leave Vokom to fight through, while we find nice cave to call our own!"

The black Sashes seemed impressed by this reasoning, and barked and yelped and shook their weapons, plainly convinced that Grizka had the right of it, so encouraged Griska pushed his point, perhaps a it too hard. "So Togo shut his shit eating mouth, and fall into line like good little turd, and let Grizka worry about things Togo don't understand!"

This was apparently too much for Togo... who screeched in a terrible war cry, baring his fangs at Grizka. He turned to face his faction, and screamed "'KILLLLL!!!!".

Grizka seemed smarter than the rest, though, and when Togo turned away, he melted back into the rest of the black sashes, who moved forward to protect their leader, as the melee broke out. Swords and spears found flesh and bone, and the screams of the dying  filled the night.

Ash quietly unslung her bow from her back and readied it.  Her eyes swept the camp, and noted that Risos was about fourty five feet away from the fighting goblins, and barely illuminated by the camp fires.  She watched the skirmish closely, silently egging them on and hoping that their tempers would continue to flare out of control.   

His plan not as well received as he had hoped, Lucas was already well deflated.  He peeked over the ledge to watch the campers with detachment at first, then mild interest.  In the end, they may not have needed a plan in the first place and these goblin-kin would surely whittle their own numbers down by half or more.  He couldn't help but feel disappointed, even still.

Marissa pursed her lips in a silent whistle.  This was unexpected, but it was a great deal of luck for them.  She edged closer to Garrick and spoke just loud enough for him to hear, but not so loud she'd be noticed by the fighting goblins.  "Wait until the fighting dies down, or send Ash in quiet-like to free Risos and get him out of here?"

The Creator works in ways not known by mortals. Harrod heard Rector Schenwar's words as he watched the chaos ensue amongst the two factions of these creatures.

"We best be ready to help her in case one of them spies her trying to free Risos," Harrod added.

Garrick clapped Lucas on the shoulder and nodded reassuringly with a wry smile.  "It was a good idea Lucas."  He turned back to the others.  "If Ash goes in now and gets seen, they'll forget all about the squabble and unite against us.  Let's let them beat on each other for a bit, then go in when they're injured and exhausted.  And keep that bow ready in case one of them makes a dash for Risos. At least that's my two pence."

Marissa nodded.  "Works for me.  Hopefully, we won't have to deal with them at all, really except to scare the rest of them away."

The combat raged in the rain soaked clearing, the red sashed 'goblins' though outnumbered by those in black, attacked with ferocity. The one who identified himself as Togo led the reds right into the center of the black sashes, spears were broken, shields splintered, and the yellowish blood flowed into the rain puddles.

For a minute or two, it seemed like their momentum would crush the blacks, and they would win free to devour Risos Denellon. But the superior numbers of the blacks soon turned the tide, a red slipped in the mud, and found the back of his head stoved in by a mace, then another lost the grip on his shortsword, sending it flying through the air to land in the mud a few feet away from Lucas, its former weilder succumbing quickly to a spear in his throat.  The young magi flinched, clenching his eyes shut and shrinking back.

When it became apparent that the red faction was done for, Grizka threw his weight into the fray, killing a red with a sweep of his axe, and bearing in on Togo with a howl of rage. They fought for a moment, blocking, parrying, and slipping in the mud. Soon enough, one of Grizka's faithful threw himself at Togo's feet, causing a stumble, and the end of Togo, as Grizka's axe found his neck.

The melee ended as suddenly as it had began, with 7 black sashes (including Grizka) left panting in the rain, winded and wounded, it was Grizka's voice that first howled in victory, to be joined by  the other 6.
"TEER-ZANASHHHHH!!!!!!"

After such a bloody display, Lucas wasn't very keen on provoking the victors, already imagining himself at the end of one of their spears.  He swallowed hard and glanced warily between his comrades.

Marissa swallowed heavily, gripping her sword all the tighter in her hand.  She'd broken up fist-fights before, had gone wading into the wolves with an axe but somehow... this was different.  Probably because I have the opportunity to actually think about this before leaping in, she reasoned.  I believe I'd rather do the latter than the former.  She looked to Garrick because out of all of them, he seemed to be the one with the strategy and the plan.  Her expression held fear, hesitation and doubt, but under that was firm determination to somehow or another, get Risos out of there.  "Okay, now what?" she murmured.

Garrick took a deep breath before answering.  "Now we distract them with a bluff to buy time for Ash to sneak in there and free Risos.  Hopefully after all the fighting, they'll be so tired they won't want to continue.  And if it comes down to it, we brought four days worth of food.  They're so hungry they were gonna eat Risos.  Maybe we can throw that in as enticement if needed.  It'll be a hungry trip back, but no one will be bleeding."  

Ash nodded her head in approval and was grateful for the darkness, knowing that it helped to hide her nervousness.

Harrod put his hand upon them both before they walked out from the safety of their position to the open field. "Wait a moment please," he asked as he began to reach down to the core of his spirit and call forth the power that was his by gift of The Creator. "Divine Creator, bless us as we embark to save one who is at the mercy of cruel and foul creatures. Bless us and protect us ash Ash and Garrick put their safety after the safety of another of your children." The spell flowed and Harrod felt the peace he always did at these times when the Creator was close with him.

Oran was suddenly filled with a nervous energy, as he realized what was about to happen. It was true that he didn't know Garrick or Ash as well as he could have, but when Harrod began praying, the thought of what could happen here hit home in his chest.

Garrick's expression was one of resignation.  He didn't want to fight these creatures.  In the stories, it was always exciting, but now it was just scary.  He remembered something that he'd heard Jordan say before and repeated it for the others to try to encourage them.  "My father says, 'Courage is not the lack of fear.  It is when a man,'"  he trailed off with an apologetic glance at Marissa and Ash, "'<i>or woman</i> feels fear, yet still does what must be done."  He hoped a couple of them might join him to bolster their numbers.

With that, he motioned to Ash to flank to the right while he screwed up his courage. The rogue nodded her head silently and squeezed his shoulder as she walked by.  He had flexed, expecting one of her normal slugs, but the gesture was soft and fleeting.  

While Ash slipped silently into the direction he indicated, bow at the ready, he stood and walked forward and to the left, sword drawn, and a dagger in his free hand, trying to get the attention of the creatures.

Garrick called out in his most authoritative voice, "Grizka...you and your little band have taken one of ours and we have come to take him back!  You are outmatched and outnumbered.  Our archers have bows trained on you as I speak."  He motioned generally behind him, so if the creatures decided to bolt, they would run in the opposite direction. "Throw down your weapons and we will spare you."

At the sound of his name, Grizka whirled round to face Garrick. His head tilted to the left, and his lips curled back, in a very menacing snarl. His nostrils flared and he spat on the ground. "ELF!!!!!" He screamed.

The rest of his crew had spun around to face the newcomer, and at their leader's reaction, began to charge, waving their swords and spears.

Ash took advantage of the distraction, she had to.  Garrick and the others were risking their necks for Risos and it was her job to make sure their sacrifice was worth while.  She took a bit of care to stick to the darkness of the shadows, but spared no time to ensure that her footfalls were quiet, hoping instead that the distraction would be enough to overshadow any sound her hurry might make.

The slip of a girl stayed in the deeper darkness under the boughs of The Old Pine, moving with purpose. As she reached the halfway point to Risos, the screams of battle turned to the screams of pain, and the ringing sound of metal on metal.

There was no thought.  There was only action.  It surged through him, from somewhere deep within and raced outwards to burst from his fingertips even as he stood from the brush.  Lucas spun his hands, drawing the energy, forging the arcane words from memory and let it free.

There was no thought before the missile erupted from him and flashed towards its target.  It happened too quick for that.  Power seeped up into the young man from the earth beneath his feet, and concentrated in his hands. A thin dagger of bright yellow light flashed through the clearing, lighting the trees that lined it. The dagger existed for only a fraction of a second, but it crossed the distance to its target unerringly, striking the ork-kind dead center in it's chest. Already favoring it's leg from a nasty gash, the camper went stiff in mid stride, and tumbled stiff as a board into the rain soaked earth, momentum carrying it forward a few feet, its dead face digging a furrow in the mud. 

Garrick blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback.  He sometimes forgot he was half-elf, growing up in a human village as he did.  The reaction of the creatures was wholly unexpected by him.  He'd expected some semi-witty repartee, a little light threatening, an exchange of food for Risos, and then a grudging disorganized parting of ways followed by a lot of running as they tried to put distance between themselves and the creatures.

All of those thoughts evaporated as the creatures charged.  At that moment, all ambiguity and uncertainty dropped away. Everything became black and white as indecision dissipated. He knew what he had to do. He took a step back with his right leg into a defensive posture, dagger held forward in his left, sword at the ready in his right as he prepared for the onslaught.

The Elven warrior in Garrick rose to the surface naturally, almost unbidden, as the human blacksmith slipped away, adrenaline surged through him, and a sense of dead calm washed over him like the rain that soaked his hair. Time seemed to slow, and the charge of his enemies seemed as if it was through molasses. As the first of the 'goblins' came into range, he struck with the speed of a Timber snake. His sword hand lunging out, in conert with his right foot. The foot slipped in the wet loam, and his balance was lost for a moment, the tip of his sword sliding off the creatures leather jerkin.

Undeterred, Garrick spun in place, his left foot whirling around and planting solidly. His left arm swung the dagger around in a wide arc, the blade puncturing the jerkin, making its way between two ribs. It plunged hilt deep into the small creature's chest, blood and air bubbling out around the hilt as the life bubbled out of its eyes, and it spun to the ground, limp.

Well, this is it, Marissa thought. She watched a second as the attackers charged forward, noting which ones were wounded and which weren't.  Take out the wounded, first, then deal with the healthy. When she saw Oran burst out of the brush, she sprung from hiding, using her training to swing precisely at one of the creatures as she made her way to Garrick's side.  She'd give him enough room to work and took enough for herself, just like they trained.  They hadn't seen the sense in it at the time when Jordan had them working together instead of sparring against each other.  But now...here was the sense of it.

The girl burst from the cover of the underbrush, her boots falling heavily in the mud, the numbing cold of the rain seemed to disappear from her limbs and her joints, as she joined in another fight for her life. Memories of The Night of the Wolves blazed through her mind, as she watched two of the campers fall. Drawing the great sword back horizontally to her right, she swung it hard at the nearest target to her, the keen blade powered by her strength and braced by its own weight.

*thunk-crakk!*

The camper saw her attack coming and lifted his shield to fend it off, to no avail. The heavy steel splintered the wooden shield, cleaved through flesh and bone, through chain armor, and more flesh. A small arm and ruined shield fell into the mud, and the dull yellow blood of the creature geysered out into the night as it screamed with it's last breath.

Oran squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he heard Grizka's cry of hatred. All the orc kind hate the elves, more than anything. He thought to himself. They havent seen me yet, though.He gripped his staff and remained under the cover of the thick fern, waiting till they were close enough for him to burst forth  from his hiding place and with a little luck, bash one's knotty head in.

Oran rushed out, screaming a wordless battlecry, the staff spinning around his left shoulder then his right. He made  it to one of the campers, and found himself face to face with Grizka. He swung the stout stave low, trying to take his enemy off guard, but Grizka simply leapt over it, bringing his own spear into line.

Harrod pulled forth his staff and held it before him as the words to the prayer came to his mind.

"Creator, bless this weapon with your divine might  Grant it the power to aid me in defense of those that come before us to do harm to Risos and the other humble peoples of your land." Harrod felt the power of the Creator flow from him as he uttered the words to the spell. He then prepared himself for battle.

The faith of the young Rector was a tangible, real thing to him, his blessing had helped his friends, and he could feel his faith in his staff, turning it into the intstrument of the Creator. He cast his spell, and made ready to join the fight against the Hordes of Morgonth, brought to his very homeland.

The charge of the campers that  had started so ferociously, was rattled and then broken as the Lying Elf was proved to be speaking true.  He had help in the bushes. Help that included sorcery. The four remaining campers engaged the battle, but it was plain to see in their eyes, that fear had crept in, where hatred and bloodlust had reigned moments before.

Two wounded ones squared off on Marissa, one with a spear, one wielding a nasty looking mace.  The thrust of the spearman was clumsy, and easily dodged by a sidestep, as she deflected the more accurate swing of the mace with her blood soaked blade.

Another camper engaged Garrick, baring its teeth in what the Elf could see as a transparent attempt to scare him. It lunged forward with a shortsword, the rusted blade finding the flesh of his outer thigh. The wound did not seem deep, and filled with battle lust, Garrick barely felt it.

Grizka howled, realizing he had miscalculated badly. Fear mixed in with anger and hatred, and fueled the thrust of his spear, as he drove it with all the momentum of his jump at Oran's chest. Oran deflected the barbed head of the spear with his Quarterstaff, and spun round, ending up facing the leader, their weapons nearly touching each other.

The battle was a constant clamor, encouraging Ash to hurry.  She became bold and left the protective cover of the shadows and darted to Risos as fast as she could in a straight line.  "Risos.  Yer ma sent us ta getcha."  She tried to pitch her voice as if nothing was wrong, but it was a futile attempt, at best. 

Risos lifted his head out of the mudpuddle that his face had been half submerged in. Craning an obviously stiff neck, his eyes lit as they landed on Ash.   "I know you... you're the girl who lives with the Warden in Lanburg..."  He obviously wanted to know why you all were on Ramhorn Ridge, but was plainly to wrung out to speak much. As the thin twine that bound his hands and feet came unraveled from its knots, the dried blood peeled away with it, and the cuts and abrasions under the rope began to bleed anew.

"Yep.  That's me.  Don'cha believe anyhin' ya heard 'less it's the good stuff."  Ash said as she grabbed his arm lightly and ushered him quickly into the shadows.  They knelt quielty there, while she pulled an arrow from her quiver, just in case her companions needed an extra hand.

Garrick laughed, as the camper assailed him, his blonde hair soaked with rain and blood, he spun, as a dancer does, his blades glittering in the sputtering firelight as he focused his attacks on his foes. His longsword moved with the speed of an adder, and his feet kept dancing in a circle to the right. His first attack with the longsword went awry, the camper ducking under it, only to find it planted between his shoulderblades before he could regain his posture. . Using his sword handle as a pole to vault over the dying body of the first camper as it fell, Garrick planted his dagger deep in the back of a second ones neck, sending him to his gurgling death in the mud in front of Marissa.

In the span of a heartbeat, Marissa paused.  The sight of the severed arm, the blood, hearing the screams, weapons meeting flesh and other weapons... it was enough to send her reeling into the night.  Except her friends were involved and in danger and there was a promise to keep.  The next heartbeat saw the young woman moving again, taking on the next goblinoid in line. Now with only one camper in front of her,  Marissa swung the heavy blade in another wide arc, but the Orck-kind stepped back, bringing his spear up into line ready for another lunge. An attack he would never launch. The young girl spun in place with the momentum of her first swipe, and brought the sword up and down hard, cleaving into the things bony skull, the light of life disappearing from its eyes as it crumpled like an empty sack.

Spell spent, Lucas was wary of entering the melee.  His grip on his own staff tightened and he gingerly made his way down the embankment, trying to stay nearest the edge, all the while whispering his own bewilderment to himself: "What am I doing?"

Ignoring his reservations, a persistent thought steered him towards the rear of the nearest camper already engaged with his friends.  Perhaps, if he was lucky, he might catch them unawares from behind.  That, or he may draw their attention and the points of their spears.  This was surely not a well-thought plan. With care, the youngster maneuvered through the slick mud, watching as Garrick and Marissa laid waste to the campers, leaving only Grizka alive. With the leader facing Oran, and Harrod, his back was exposed, and the mage swung his staff hard as he could. The shod end of his staff landed hard on Grizka's shoulder, and even through the chain shirt he wore, Lucas felt the collarbones give under the impact.

Harrod felt a surge of adrenalin as the the power of the Creator flowed through the boy and into the staff. He spun around and whirled his enchanted staff in a series of spins and arcs that was meant to grab Grizka's attention and shift it from Oran to Harrod.

"You are not welcome in these woods or hills, Grizka. This land is protected by the Creator." The boy then lunged at the foul creature and swung his enchanted staff at Grizka. The last camper had howled, as Lucas' staff caught him unawares, and reflexively half spun to face the new threat, opening the back of his head to the whirling whistling impact of Harrod's stave. Imbued with some small measure of the lad's faith in the Creator, vertebrae shattered, and Grizka cursed in his own tongue, as his knees folded, and life left him laying in the mud.

Oran  spun a circle, checking to make sure all the campers were down, and when no more were to be seen, he leaned heavily on his staff and breathed a heavy sigh... "Wow....."

 Lucas stumbled, his boots heavy with mud and he leaned on his staff.  His head spun.  He took a few faltering steps backwards, turned, and wretched into the weeds.

Harrod held his attack position for a half a breath before he relaxed and stood upright.. The young priest looked around for any signs of wounded, other than the damaged constitution of one very brave Lucas. Harrod whispered a prayer of thanks to the Creator and rushed a waterskin over to the young mage. "That was one of the most amazing spells, what with how you made your staff crack him in the back," the priest said with a smile has he handed the skin to Lucas. "Drink this. I need check on Risos."

Lucas winced inwardly, refusing to look across the clearing strewn with the dead.  He accepted the skin mutely.  The image of the goblin chief crumpling under his own staff head was branded painfully in the mage's eyes forever.

Harrod then turned and rushed over to tend to Risos.  He didn't have far to go, since Ash had led him most of the way back to them.  Upon seeing that his wounds were going to be tended to, the rogue made her way over towards Garrick.

Marissa stopped, breathing heavily and looking around.  The carnage greeted her eyes at every turn.  She saw Lucas retch and felt like doing so herself.  These weren't animals they killed.  Even if they were related to Orcks, they were still people and this was the first time any of them had actually killed someone, she'd wager.  Trembling hands cleaned off her blade and replaced it.  Bits of hair escaped from her braid and lay plastered against her face.  The young woman walked quietly over to her smaller friend and put a gentle hand on his shoulder.  He felt the fingers tremble as she tried to get a grip on her own reactions in the aftermath.

"You okay, Lucas?" she asked gently.  Then she frowned at the question.  Of course he wasn't okay.  None of them would ever be the same again.  "I mean... you're not hurt or anything?"

Lucas shook his head solemnly.  "I don't feel so good," he said and sat heavily.  The rain fell but did nothing to cleanse him.  He stared blankly at the ground between his knees.  "I bet they had little families... somewhere..."

He heard a choked sound trying to claw it's way out of Marissa's throat before she fell to her knees beside him in the mud.  "I don't think so," she said, voice trembling slightly.  "If they did, they would have been here with them, wouldn't they?" 

"Ours aren't..." he mumbled.

Again she looked around the camp and what had become a battlefield, albeit a small one.  "I don't feel so good myself, but... we did offer to talk first and negotiate.  They attacked us, first.  We were at the point of 'kill or be killed,' as Garrick's dad would say."

Lucas sniffed loudly and wiped his face with the back of one hand.  He cast Marissa a sidelong look.  That sounds like a terrible way to live... he thought.  Instead of pushing the argument, he turned and sat next to her, finally allowing himself to look across the clearing.  "Risos is safe now," he said.  "That is important."

"Yeah.  We did what we came to do," she said quietly, almost dully.  She silently wondered whether Lucas actually realized that others might be feeling the way he was, or whether he really just liked feeling sorry for himself too much.  "Come on, then," she said aloud and stood, offering her hand to help him up.  "No sense sitting here in the mud and rain anymore than we have to.  Let's go talk to everyone and see whether we want to just set up a camp, or head back right now.  Me, I'm all for getting back as soon as we can, but some folks might not be up for travel right now."

She paused again, looking over the area with unseeing eyes, remembering stories and legends.  "You know, Lucas," she continued as they walked toward Garrick and Ash.  "Sometimes, good people have to do some pretty nasty things to make sure lots of other people stay safe.  I think I really understand some of those old legends and stories of the knights and all, now."

Not really certain why, for whatever reason this sentiment settled comfortingly around the young mage.  In its own way, it was logical.  He glanced at her with appreciation.

As the last of the campers fell, Garrick whirled about looking for more enemies.  Seeing none, he let his arms drop by his side as he surveyed the carnage.  As the adrenalin faded, he began to feel a burning on his thigh and looked down to find where the creature's blade had sliced him. He looked about at his companions to make sure none of them was wounded, and finally to where Risos had lain in the mud. "Is everyone okay?!?  Is anyone hurt?" 

Ash shook her head as she approached.  "I'm good.  Risos looks rough, but nuthin' serious."

Seeing from the shakes of their heads that everone was accounted for, he continued, "Did you see that?  They just...attacked.  Screaming about elves.  What could they have against elves?"  The question was rhetorical mostly, he didn't expect anyone to answer.  He didn't expect anyone to know.  He had been raised in human culture and knew next to nothing about elves or whatever these creatures were.  "What are these things?" he asked, sitting down for Harrod to get a better look at his wound.  "That was incredible."

"Yuck."  Ash said simply as she sunk to sit down next to Garrick, a hint of concern in her voice when she spoke.  "Didja git hurt bad?"

Garrick's normally easy smile was tinged with mild pain.  "Not too bad.  Didn't even feel it at the time.  Burns like the dickens now. But I'll live."

"Here," Harrod began. "Let me take a look at that." Harrod looked the wound over and reached down to feel the source of the Creator within him. He had never tried to heal anyone with the power of the Creator before, even though he had watched Rector Schenwar do it. He knew, however, that the Creator was there for him and would grant him the power as well. The boy placed his hands on the wound as he spoke.

"Let your power flow and heal these wounds," the boy prayed aloud. "Mend the damage that he may be whole again." Harrod felt the flow of energy pass from him and out his hands on the wound in Garrick's leg.

As Harrod finished up, Garrick's usual smile returned.  "Wow Harrod.  Very impressive. Feels good as new.  The Rector would be proud."  He pulled apart the gap in his pants to get a look and wiped some of the blood away.  He smiled as he saw the pink scar.  His first battle scar.

Harrod didn't want to but he couldn't help revel, even momentarily, at the way the power flowed from the Creator and through him. Humbled by the gift, Harrod smiled as he looked up at Garrick. "Because of the Creator, Garrick, not me," the boy said before he was distracted by Risos' outburst.

Risos stumbled along through the mud, following behind Ash, until he passed the lifeless form of Grizka, facedown in the mud.

With a sudden burst of energy, the lad ran up to the fallen 'Goblin' and drew his foot back.

"It ate my dog!"

*Thunk* a sickening noise as his boot connected with the corpse's midsection.

"They ate my dog... alive." His voice losing some of it's anger...

*Dunck* His boot landed again...

"They didn't kill him first... and he screamed.... and they..."

*shlop* The lad's knees gave out from under him, as he slumped in the bloody mud.

"laughed.... they laughed at Thoar...."

Garrick could feel Ash as she shuddered next to him, it was obvious that Risos' gory tale had upset her.  "Awww....geesh, Risos.  I'm so sorry ta hear that.  I kin't evin imagine how awful that musta been."

As Risos sank to his knees, Garrick put his hand on Ash's shoulder in an effort to comfort her.  He gestured towards Risos.  He got up and went over to him.  He didn't know Risos well, but he knew when a person was in pain.  He didn't know what to say, and didn't know if physical contact would be welcome. He squatted beside the boy, hoping just the nearness would help.  After a moment, he said simply, quietly, "I'm sorry Risos."

Lucas had caught only the end, but understood more than he cared to and felt his stomach churn anew.  He wondered if he might again be ill.  There was a slight and unexpected feeling of justification, then, at having dispatched the rogue goblins.  He frowned and watched Risos with concerned sympathy.

"Oh, Risos..." Marissa groaned sympathetically.  "I'm sorry we didn't get here before that.  I know that it doesn't bring Thoar back, but... they won't do this to anyone else again."  Her gaze traveled the camp once more, thoughfully, this time.  "They said they left their home... maybe they might have brought stuff with them that's worth selling.  I know it won't bring Thoar back either but it might go a ways to help your family if the sheep took off and didn't go home."

"The Flock!!" The boy said, rain drops carrying his tears away. It was as if he put the grief stricken boy away, and became the man of the Denellon house right in front of the young groups eyes. "They scattered, when those suns'abtiches popped up outta the riverbed. Ma's gonna be right pissed."

"We need the wool from em... its shearing season...." he added, looking over at the corpses, and the makeshift campsite, before he added, as an afterthought. "It ain't stealin, is it? If they got coins? Ma don't brook to no stealin'"

As the boy looked over the campsite, his right hand subconciously moved to his butt, and rubbed, as he recalled the switch, and last time he had learned that lesson, for filching strawberries from Tam Goodpatures patch.

Something of a sad smile touched Marissa's lips at the boy's immediate change of attitude.  "No, it's not stealing, Risos.  They attacked us, first even though we were gonna talk to them.   Even if they don't have money, some of their stuff might be good enough to fix up and sell.  And somehow, I don't think your mom's going to blame you for the flock scattering, when she hears what happened. She'll just be really glad to see you home."

"Marissa is right, Risos," Harrod interjected. "We would rather it not have ended this way, and no one will blame you or accuse you of thievery. These gains are probably ill-gotten anyway. It would do well to put them to a nobler use."

As the others spoke, Ash nodded her head and stood up.  Her eyes scanned the carnage and the rough campsite, and finally with a determined look she waded into it.  It was a slow process, but she stopped at each of the campers that had clothing and did a quick search.  After she was done with each, she closed their lifeless eyes before moving onto the next.

Oran rose, nodding in agreement with Marissa an Harrod. "Besides, they don't need it no more."  Moving through the rain, he began to help Ash with the grisly task. Lucas crinkled his nose and shuddered, content to wrap his arms around himself and step back from the dead.  The idea of sifting through their pockets unnerved him almost as much as the violence that had put them there.

Ash threw the last of the maces into a pile near Lucas and gave him a solid frown.  She was going to tell him that he was more of a girl than she'd ever be, but figured that Harrod would get all preachy on her, so she kept her tongue.  She slid the coins into her pocket and retraced her steps, this time stooping to undo the straps on the armor that some of the campers were wearing.  She was certain the Warden would appreciate having a spare or two to help patch his that was growing a bit too snug around the middle. 

Relieving the first monster of it's armor was a gut wrenching task, but she managed to keep her stomach as she threw it in the pile with the weapons.  ...after that, she was so numb from the rain and their dire situation that she couldn't feel anything.  Her face was set in an unreadable mask, far more serious than any that her companions had ever seen her wear.  Her white chamise clung tightly to her blosoming figure, it might have been distracting under different circumstances.  But tonight it was slick and limp with the blood from the dead and the unrelenting rain.

Oran glanced over at Ash, once the distasteful work had been done. Giving her a wink, he walked away from the carnage, and wandered about the Campers' campsite.

"What was it they said about stealing a chest of leaves?" He looked epectantly at the others, to help him go through the tents, even if they had been to squeamish to handle the bodies.

"Not sure what they meant by that bit."  Ash replied.  "...but they seemed to fancy it."  She headed towards the tent that was furthest away, keeping her ears tuned for any trouble.  She knew that Risos and Lucas were likely too upset to join in the search, and figured that Harrod and Marissa were busy tending to the two of them.  Garrick on the other hand was making another sweep of the perimeter.  

Lucas caught Oran's expectant look and frowned guiltily.  Indecision twisted him and he glanced over at Marissa.  Finally he gave into the persistent gnawing curiosity and guilt despite his much larger reservations and, head down, shoulders slumped, walked towards one of the tents.

He poked his head inside and found Ash.  "Oh, sorry," he murmured.  He almost left completely, but paused with an afterthought and added timidly, "You, uh... need any help?"

"Yeah.  Sure."  Ash said as she felt more than looked around the room.  "Any idea on how we can git us some light ta see by?"

Lucas frowned slightly, then glanced down at his hands.  With some effort, they began to glow softly with a dim blue aura that failed to chase more than the weakest of shadows.  "Does that help?" he offered hopefully.

"Sure does."  She said as she gave him an appreciative smile.

A search of the tents yielded several threadbare blankets, some assorted cooking equipment (also in disrepair), and a single rather smallish chest. The chest was only 3 feet long, and two feet wide, an not even a foot high. It was made of some sort of silvery metal, engraved and inlaid in flowing patterns on all six sides. There was a latch that held it closed, but no lock.

Risos looked up, as the box was brought out of the tent, and tilted his head curiously. "That's what all the fussin' and feudin' was over? It dont seem like much, for their former Master to chase 'em halfway down the Kal'Lorryn."

Harrod wasn't sure what to make of the items they had discovered. "Master Schenwar," he began, "might know what this is. He traveled a bit around the lands before he settled in the valley. Perhaps we should take it back to him to look over?"

"Well it's not locked..." Lucas pointed out with a gesture.  "We could... maybe have a look?"

Marissa looked up from where she and Garrick had started a discussion about the quality of the equipment.  "I dunno, Lucas," she said.  A thoughtful frown creased her brow as she regarded the box.  "What if it's rigged to blow up or something.  Might be magicked shut or trapped.   I mean, if it was all that important, you'd think they'd protect it some way or another, right?"

Ash looked over at Garrick and Marissa as she chewed on her bottom lip.  She tilted the chest towards her and gave it a good look, figuring that if it was magically shut it wouldn't open, she gave the latch a quick flip and tried to pull it open.  "Only one way ta find out."

Garrick looked over, and scratched his head as he rose to stand right beside Ash. "Crack 'er open, Ash. Maybe there's a Ham Sammich or somethin in there!"

Harrod said a quick and silent prayer to the Creator asking it to once again watch over the young group. He then stood near to Ash in case anything untoward befell the girl. He readied himself to heal her if need be.

With one eye open and one eye shut, Ash lifted the lid to the chest.