Turn2

Fires in the Night.

At the edge of the village ...

The "Joker", whose real name is Raddish Smallfold, looks around to see if the "Thief" is with him as he runs down a side street, away from the Szreldor warriors.

"Better for us if we go into hiding for the time being, I don't like fighting if it is possible to avoid it," he exclaims.

"You 'aint kidding," replies Billy, puffing along beside him.

Looking around for some dark place to hide, the Hobbit draws his weapon and looks behind him. No-one is following apparently.

"Only for precaution, you understand..." Raddish mutters, looking at the shining blade.

"Yeah, well don't stick me with it. Hey, over here," shouts Billy.

A descending outer staircase in the shadow of a nearby house offers slight protection and the Hobbit disappears beneath it into the darkness. The place stinks of discarded refuse but at least no-one will likely look here.

Just as the Hobbits are hiding, the first of the mounted warriors clatters beneath the lintel of the postern door, knocking a surprised militia guard aside with a swift slash of his curved blade. More warriors on horseback flood through the gap after the first and charge up the slight incline of the street directly ahead, away from the Hobbits' hiding place. From their position however, they hear gruff voices shouting orders and a dog barking - the sound quickly silenced. A multitude of leather-clad men spill through the door and begin lighting many torches, spreading into every street, sword arms at the ready.

***********

On the southern road...

The first flight of arrows fall amongst the small group of militia men as they scramble for cover. One passes right through a soldiers thigh and brings him to the ground with a yelp of pain. Another hits the Guard-captain a glancing blow on the shoulder but doesn't penetrate his tough leather coat. The gaurd next to him is not so fortunate and is knocked over backwards as three shafts thud into his stomach. The Ranger, Lochan flings himself to the ground as an arrow grazes the back of his hand. Rolling under the bulk of the cart, he hugs the wound to his chest and stares towards the darkened line of trees as a second flight of arrows showers the abandoned camp. Another scream from a gaurdsman signifies another arrow has found its target. The second wave is more ineffectual however as the assailants tactics change to firing high and blindly to reach the defenders.

As Valdo peers out from behind the large rocks surrounding the fire pit, a diabolic yell comes clearly from the trees and a small green figure waving a dull metal blade leaps forward yelling a garbled battle-cry. It is rapidly followed by another, then more, until Valdo counts at least nine or ten running for his group.

"Goblin Scum!" shouts the Gaurd-captain, drawing forth his broadsword and bringing up his shield as he steps forward to strike the nearest greenskin. "I'm glad you are here - to give me something to kill. Men ... Engage !!"

The sound of taught strings thrum as the gaurds return fire. Although bleeding thickly from his thigh, the wounded soldier nevertheless makes careful aim at the first of the Goblins. The creature takes the bolt in the leg and is knocked off its feet, stone dead. Another of the foul creatures is sent spinning, to drop out of site beneath a tree.

Lochan shouts "cover me", then dashes up from his position and races for the tethered horses holding crossbow at the ready. He makes it and swings into the saddle of his steed as a Goblin leaps over the underbrush and confronts him, sword raised to strike. The crossbow quarrel takes the greenskin in the shoulder knocking it aside as Lochan urges his horse forward as he sees a militia man ahead cut down by the wicked blows of two enemy swords.

The first Goblin tops the rise of the fire pit and screams a challenge at Valdo. The veteran Gaurd-captain ducks under the flailing blade and skewers the creature on the tip of his sword but he receives a gash to his side as its companion takes a swing.

Lochan's horse charges the two killers who split to left and right but the Rangers sword catches a Goblin's shield arm as it defends and takes it clean off at the elbow. Brownish ichor fountains and the Goblin collapses.

Seeing a third Goblin almost upon him, Valdo takes a chance and entices his current adversary forward. It stabs and the Gaurd-captain deftly slices the creatures sword hand from its body. The monster screams, falling backwards holding the bloodied stump.

Lochan turns to confront the other Goblin who stops dead, eyeing the huge horse before it. Choosing to flee, the creature runs for cover of a nearby tree. It doesn't make it. Lochan's blade catches the greenskin in the back knocking it fumbling to the ground.

Valdo attacks the third assailant unaware that behind him, a desperate struggle is going on as the wounded soldier defends his life from another attacker. Valdo trades blows with the other Goblin who deflects most and even scores a hit on the Northman's leg while steadily backing up towards the line of trees. Valdo pursues.

The Ranger wheels his horse about and spots a militia-man being overwhelmed by two attackers. The man falls and the greenskins leap forward to deliver the killing blow. Driving his horse across the gap, Lochan forces the Goblins aside and chops at one as it runs. He catches it in the back of the legs and sends the creature rolling across the grass to lie quivering but ultimately still. He breathes a sigh of relief.

Valdo's opponent finally lets it's gaurd slip and the Gaurd-captain delivers the killing blow, but not before the creature smiles oddly at him before expiring. He stares at the crumpled figure in surprise before looking up. He is half way between the fire-pit and the trees and his way forward is blocked by three more of the greenskins steadily advancing. Another three appear a little way off and warily move forward also towards the bleeding defenders.

************

Later, across the village in the local jail...

<Boldor awoke slumped across the table in the gaurdroom. His head was swimming but his eyes quickly latched onto the only definitely noticeable thing in the grey room - a body, which was even now sliding down the steps onto the paved floor. A blurry figure seemed to float over this to land at the other end of the table. It stopped and tilted its head to peer at the Dwarf. Then crept forward. Boldors sight was returning slowly but his keen sense of smell picked up unusual smells; horses, unwashed leather, hair oil, sweat and... blood. Blood? Boldor noticed his old War Mattock was on the table nearby. He instinctively grabbed for it.>

Giving his head a shake to clear out the cobwebs, Boldor challenges the man infront of him: "Wash do yer thinshk yer doing?" he says in a slighty drunken tone. "Whesh Morgral? Wadda ya done wid 'im?" The Dwarf waves his weapon at the other, threateningly.

In a thick eastern accent, the other man replies: "Ah, you mean that one? Well, he had to go for a long sleep. As you should old guy, before you hurt yourself with that hammer. Just put it down and we can get you off to bed." He chuckles, slowly moving to intercept the old Dwarf.

************

Meanwhile, in the Frosty Mug Tavern...

The initial horror of seeing the woman's body crumple in the Elven woman's arms washes over the patron's of the inn. It only takes a moment before they begin to react however; the merchant forgets about the card game as he leans backwards to get a better view and the gaurd looks quickly over his shoulder with hand on weapon-hilt. Despite the commotion around him, Saelvach appears unconcerned. His eyes continue to watch intently the cards in his hand, even though his opponents in the game now have their attention fixed firmly elsewhere. His gaze briefly flickers across towards the Elven woman before he turns his head to look towards the rear of the common room where the back entrance of the inn lies. Coming to a decision Saelvach gently lays down his cards and suddenly jumping to his feet, bounds up the rear steps to the second floor rooms.

As the gambler leaves, the Northman, Gwalchmai suddenly lurches to his feet, apparently awake all along. Turning to retrieve his axe and shield, the man strides past the assembling patrons towards the front door glaring at them.

"What's going on out there? " he shouts, peering at the blackness outside through a window. "Who is enough of a coward to kill an un-armed woman?"

"And they dare calling us 'Barbarians!'" he adds.

Moving to the door for a better look, the Northman pulls it further open and looks out to see the silhouettes of two leather-clad warriors in the road with a third upon horseback, shouting orders.

He shouts to the people in the tavern, "Have you seen those laughing cowards outside? Who will come with me to show them they cannot get away with this sort of thing?"

None of the locals respond, some looking sheepishly at their feet.

"Uh, we are not fighters like yourself Sir," replies one of the Dwarves, holding his empty hands out and looking at his companion for support. The other's long grey beard moves in affirmation.

With an angry look, Gwalchmai turns to aid the kneeling Elf. "Do you know this woman?"

Rubbing her bruised back where she was knocked against the cloakstand, Arekhel looks first at the body of the woman lying at her feet, opens her mouth as if to shout angrily, swallows and gazes absently at the mercenary. She then suddenly pulls herself together, shivers then kneels downs beside the body, muttering to Gwalchmai:

"I don't know anything about this woman! It is the first time I have seen her!" She reaches towards the slumped body and lightly touches the gaping wound. The hole in the woman's front is filling with blood and the slight disturbance causes a thick line to run quickly across the wool of her jerkin to soak into the white blouse beneath. Her lips are turning bluish-purple and as Arekhel closes the woman's eyelids, she turns her head towards the Northman and casts him a very long glance.

"And I am afraid this poor woman will never answer you either...she's dead!"

Getting once more to her feet she looks around at the other patrons of the Tavern and demands:

"Don't look at me like this. Sh..she's dead! That's all I can say...I just hope that those who did this to her won't come in this inn to do the same to us!"

A fleeting panic crosses her green eyes, and she looks towards the mercenary.

Through the half opened door, the sounds of violence and the roaring of wind-swept flames increases.

************

Meanwhile on the first floor...

<Heladil awoke with a start as something flapped across his upturned face. Panicking for a second, he fumbled for a candle but soon relaxed realising in the light from outside that it was the white owl from the barn. It blinked at him, swivelling its fluffed head round to stare once more out of the open window at the flickering shadows playing on the pre-dawn sky outside. A scream from beyond the window brought the young Elf to full alertness as he suddenly detected the strong smell of smoke and then the odd reddish light outside...>

The Elf rolls from the bed and in one stride is staring out of the window. The settlement is on fire! In every quarter, thatched roofs are burning, sending twisting tendrils of flashing straw into the pre-dawn sky.

Heladil spins around and stoops to retrieve and buckle on his weapons, now fully awake. Reaching for his walking stick by the door, he steps out into the upstairs hallway, almost running into a woman in her nightshirt. It's Galgwen, the tavern owners wife. She takes one look at him, recognises his face by the candle in her hand then turns and runs back into her room with a yelp of fright, slamming the door behind her. A bolt slides closed. Surprised, the Elf turns and heads for the stairs as the man named Saelvach appears in the hallway before him, sword in hand. The man nods then bounds down the stairs, two steps at a time to the backdoor at its base; Heladil following at a more sedate pace.

Cursing under her breath, her wide-vocabulary of swear-words being used well, Meraina quickly gathers her gear from the upstairs room. Strapping on her weapons and making sure they are positioned properly; she grabs her pack and taking one last look around she flings open the door and clatters down the stairs, quickly slipping her pack over her shoulders as she reaches the two men at its base. The Inn's rear door is open and the way to the stables seems clear. Saelvach glances at the Silvan Elf, then leaves him to head over to the Innkeeper, Balneg.

Without a word, the southern woman steps past Heladil and glancing into the yard, heads directly across to the stables where frightened horses are snorting and pawing the straw. Luckily the stables are not alight but her rapid scan of her surroundings informs Meraina that many of the rural houses about are not so fortunate and are starting to blaze merrily. The sounds of conflict arise from all sides and many terror-filled screams join the mad barking of dogs to lend the night a truly hellish aspect. Heladil shouts to the woman but she doesn't hear as she runs to open the corrals, throws a saddle onto a dappled mare and backs the animal out into the yard. Turning to the Elf in the doorway she shouts:

"You might think about leaving. They're torching the Tavern roof!"

And with that, Meraina leaps upon the horse, digs in her heels and the animal leaps forward and out of the yard.

**********

At the same time just outside Buhr Criocha...

Relg waves Maleg and Coru forward, the light of the burning settlement acting as a steady beacon. They split up and approach the postern door from three directions. As their mounts approach the nervous Szreldor horses by the village wall, the clouds shift bringing pre-dawn light to the land and the two Gargath warriors are spotted by the two gaurds on watch; "Hoi!" They drop forward onto their mounts as though tired or wounded and continue in pace as Relg sneaks in a wide sweep out towards the left.

"Ah... We're Scouts," shouts the Gargath. "Whose Scouts? We don't have any scouts out." "Um, Yes. We got left behind. We've been riding for days and saw the light," reply the warriors, coming steadily on. Coru adds: "My friend is wounded by a shaft. Help us."

As the further gaurd steps towards the two approaching horses with torch held high to light the newcomers, Relg takes the opportunity of surprise to leap for the nearest gaurd who, unaware of the danger, peers after his friend in the semi-dark. He hears a noise behind him but turns too late as Relg's knife is driven up beneath his ribcage into his lung. A hand swiftly smothers the man's gargled cry as Relg lowers the body quietly to the ground. He moves forward.

"Just hang on and we'll show you," continues the warrior named Maleg. "No! Stay where you are, hands raised!"

A frightened horse moves suddenly, revealing Relg's second approach. "You Bast...," exclaims the gaurd, turning and drawing his curved blade before running towards the Gargath leader. Relg sidesteps the onrushing man and swivels, dealing the Szreldor a nasty slash across his exposed back. The man stumbles to his knees, dropping his wooden shield and torch. All three Gargath leap upon him before he can rise. The man is bound and gagged in swift order with stout cords and doesn't get the chance to cry out.

Collecting all the Szreldor horses and removing the gaurd's body, the Gargath retreat to a small copse of trees about two hundred metres from the village. Then they turn to the prisoner...

The other gaurd nearly stumbles to his knees as his strength almost deserts him watching the impassive faces of the men who each hold a horsebow pointing at his heart. Their leader is un-nerving him, walking in circles round a round the little group. He somehow keeps his feet knowing that he would be shot dead if he dared move. He watches the one known far and wide as "The Fist" from the corner of bulging eyes and gulps, his mouth dry with fear as the man suddenly approaches from behind him. Coming close, Relg gestures the man to listen closely, speaking in the Szreldorn tongue:

"Why do you attack these villages ?"

His cold eyes show no compassion, only certain death. The Szreldor suddenly learns his fate but some faint echo of his spirit leaps once in freedom as he spits out a reply:

"We destroy in the name of Tirana Koresh and none other - may he eat your heart from your living flesh and laugh so that you will know your spirit will be forever his slave."

Relg's eyes flicker to his waiting warriors before returning to the prisoner once more. Then he turns away.

"Kill him."

End of Turn 2.