Travelling on your little group of survivors from the massacre of the Fayre came to a sharp ridge in the forest, going around the defile would have taken you out of the way for some considerable distance. While the group pondered how best to proceed Boggis rejoined them having evaded the Orc he had been left to distract, and although covered in small scratches and sporting a burned hand the Gongfarmer lived!

So without further ado a rope was fetched and Felix the Halfling heaved up the embankment. He seemed to land easily but the fellow didn’t seem to get what was required of him and the the thrown rope was thrown back again by the drooling Hobbit.

But it was a small set back and soon others stood atop the ridge when a voice called out a warning. Two wolves were closing rapidly. The other halfling, (the angry one) was mid climb as the first came into sight. In some confusion Big Jon’s axe nearly cut the rope the Halfling held onto, but he scrambled up none the less.

Arrows, bolts and stones flew out to rake the bushes about the charging animals but still they came on. SOme of the group still awaiting their turn on the ground were separated by the Wolves charge. Rodger Magee being bowled over and into thick bushes by the first attack. With an Oath his brother scrambled back down and dove after them.

Split by the Wolves sudden charge some confusion reigned. More shots were fired some wildly into the bushes at anything thta moved. Then suddenly a cry of pain rang out. The Halfling had stabbed Big Jon! As the stricken woodsman toppled down the slope the bellicose Halfling scrambled back down eager it seemed to spill more blood.

At that moment the Orcish handlers of the trained wolves arrived and a sharp fight ensured. At the end of it the maddened halfling had joined Big Jon in death (possibly to the relief of many) and perhaps a third of your number was now lost at the foot of the rise. With more orc possibly on the way woulds were bound but the reduced group pressed on…

Still at the foot of the ridge a fierce fight ensued as a half dozen Orcs caught up with the Magee brothers and Arvid the Hunter and a few others. The fight was long and everyone suffered a wound but in the end the companions prevailed slaying all but one of the Orcs, before the last of them fled.

Meanwhile on the top of the ridge it seemed that your guide had deserted you! However trusting to fate the group rallied and pressed on along the path he had indicated as fast as they could. This was not really that fast as Bormir the dwarf was badly hurt. He had fallen in the fight with the Orcs but had merely been stunned rather than slain. Still the Dwarfs brains had been addled as it took two to half carry half drag him down the earthen trackway.

Perhaps a mile down the way the familiar aroma of Boggis again was discerned. Evidently he had slipped after the errant guide and they were now returning somewhat shamefacedly to the group.

“The Manors not a mile further” the exhausted young mercenary rasped out. “But there no way to get there the damn Orcs are ahead of us and sieging it!”

A spyglass was produced and the situation indeed seemed dire. A little over a mile down the road there was a clear camp of Orcs with bonfires burning and arrows being exchanged (you guessed) between them and embattled fortified Great House.

But all was not lost, riders from the Justice Moon company came across your position before too long. The few dragoons left at the Manor had been ordered out of the confines of the stone building and ordered to comb the surrounding area: avoiding combat if they could to warn and bring News to any bands of survivors such as yourselves. Even better than that they had a flask of Healing elixir of master Zathabarius’s own manufacturer. Oe draught of that and the stout Bormir was clear headed and back on his own too feet!

Seeing some of the group was still injured it was decided they could take Master Felix with them as they circled the camp and hoped to rejoin the fortress via the rear gate. As they discussed this suddenly the mysterious Phaedra began to shake he Bone rod and cried out in prophetic ecstasy. The forests light seemed to darken and the peal as of distant thunder echoed over the land as the Shaman spoke.

Deeply impressed one Dragoon offered her his horse saying she belonged back at the manor where her (apparent) powers might best assist the Master Zathabarius. He would stay and firm the defence of the group as it wa snow inevitable that the Orcs would stumble across their gathering ere long.

Moving into the forest where the trees would cover the flanks, the diminished group set themselves to make a stand if the Orcs should discover them before help did.

Zaltor and Boggis hid in the bushes a length of chain strung between them to trip the unwary. Temerian and Skirelli climbed a tree each and strung thier bows. The rest gathered in the center of the small clearing as bait to any that stumbled across the crude trap.

Trap? Wishing Rats were still with them hurriedly some stakes were sharpened and some snares hastily fashioned out of the remaining rope. Then the group settled in to wait the storm.

Ere long Temerians’ elven eyes spotted movement. Wolf scouts heading your way, and what had to be their handlers not far behind. Suddenly one wolf stopped as if scenting something and they came bounding into the edge of the clearing. This was what Boggis and Zaltor were waiting for. Tightening their chain just as the beasts burst into the clearing they succeeded in tripping one charging beast, quickly Mogar dispatched it before it could recover from being stunned. The other wolf was also cut down by an arrow and a blow from the main group and the Trapped chain tripwire was hurriedly reset.

Not a moment too soon! The patrol of Orcs soon missed their scouting wolves and charged after them. Some few fell to the chain tripwire but one of them that stayed on his feet dealt brave Zaltor a fatal blow!

Bellowing like a maddened bull the Orc champion leading the band charged forward where Bormir the dwarf faced him down. Catching the Orcish sabre on his twin picks Bormir drove the weapon into the ground then struck back with a cruel upper cut that would have ended the Orcs breeding rights had it not killed him!

Blades flashed and arrows flew, but in the end the Orcs fled leaving half their number on the floor bleeding.

As the Orcs routed away their cries of anguish caught the attention of Arvid and Rats who were toiling along behind them, having bound their wounds and struggled up the rough slope. Arvid slew one with a well placed arrow, but young Pug Magee seemed to everywhere at once with his captured dagger. Claiming three of the Orcish band.

Tracking them back they were reunited with their fellows and although a few straggler Orcs again harassed their encampment, they survived some hours with the only casualty being their young Guide, who, perhaps shamed by the villagers courage, had fought as hard as any but perhaps too long as the nearly the last Orc to discover them took his life.

Werely beyond belief the huddled group of survivors weathered the next few hours until the sound of another Mercenary Patrol brought them food and relief as they were escorted to the safety of the Fortified manor at last…

Okies that will have to do 🙂 As I say any of you that wants to add comments or even a post from your viewpoint is more than welcome. Still this ought to serve to keep anyone who had to miss the session a rough idea of what happened eh! Onto the next session!

OK here a little something for those interested to chuckle over. Will try and get something down here each session but no promises have only so much time after all! if anyone else wants to post their point of view Please please do! its all good fun PLUS if some folks can’t make it to a session then it should allow them to feel they are still involved if we can keep the narrative going in some way here 🙂

As the members of the previously disliked Mercenary Band hurried from captive to captive, you couldn’t help noticing how young they seemed. While they stayed strictly professional it was clear these young troopers were under some considerable strain. Still they offered hope of escape from the hated Orc band.

Scrambling to retrieve your scanty possessions from the heap of pillaged goods nearby you saw at least one fight break out and a townsman (you didnt really know them well) get stabbed by what looked like… Yes a surly looking Hobbit!

Saner heads seemed to take control and most of you were able to retrieve what simple goods you had on you before the Orcs descended. When most of the freed villagers had gathered about the surviving Mercs the older one began to speak.

“Look there not so many of us here as you might think. Most have gone to draw them off so we could get you free. Stay with us as the main Orc force is attacking the Princes castle right now. Though he has outriders everywhere. If you try and make it back to your villages chances are you’ll be cut down by wolfriders or worse before you get half way.
Our manor is half the distance away and less patrolled. I think the Orkies thought we were still holed up in the Manor when they raided. My master and most of the rest of the company are heading to relive the Prince’s men right now. Soon as they do that they’ll all head back to our fort so that’s the safest place right now.”

The Youthful trooper fixed the assembled still shocked villagers with a beady eye.

“So gather your things and move out right now if you know whats good for you!”

Amazingly at least a few folks promptly moved back into the wrecked gathering area! One dwarf desperate to check for survivors (or something) among the burning hulks of the Dwarf smiths cottages.

A few others headed back towards the still heaped pile of belongings that lay unclaimed. Watching from the edge of the woods while still waving them to hurry up you saw a Wolf suddenly break in to the clearing from the other side!

With a snarl it loped towards the group nearest to it. But then; showing great daring a man stepped in front of it and Yelled “Sit!” You thought you had seem him about some kind of herdsman or the like. But this was no sheep dog conditioned to respond to the firm voice of command! Instead the Wolf leapt for him narrowly missing the fellow. Some of the group began to back away, while others went over to help the bold “Animal tamer”

The fight was short and brutal with more Orcs arriving on the heels of the wolf a moment or two later. More townsmen fell, one clutching his throat: crushed by the wolf’s jaws, but the would be wolfmaster was not among them. He managed to stumble back to the main group a few minutes later a little ragged and dragging something that had wrapped itself about their leg.

The bold dwarf also rejoined you edging back to the group from a roundabout route.

In the near distance Orc shouts and wolven howls could be heard. The absence of the villagers had obviously been noticed.

“Ok a group this bigs easy to follow, we split into groups of a score or less so we at least leave lots of confusing trails for them to follow!” declared one of the Mercenaries.

---

Your group trudged on. One chap; Boggis had been rendered unconscious in the earlier scuffle and had to be carried. Well not exactly carried when they discovered he was the local Gongfarmer some wag strapped him to a pole like a shot stagg and two folks carried him thus for now!

He was just coming too when the Skinny guy in the front held up his hand.

“Something up a head, looks like maybe a wagon?” declared the man.

“Any sign f life?” snapped the young Merc leading this motley band.

“Aye somebodies there staring at the cart wheel. Musta cracked a bearing or something”

“Huh, one time being late may have saved his life” spat the Merc. “Ok we can’t stop to repair his goddam waggon, call a warning and lets keep going. If they got any sense they’ll follow us.”

A couple of folks scrambled down the slope to the cart, while The Rat catcher covered them with his light Crossbow. The rest of the group marched on.

From what you could see the Man by the cart seemed not to hear them as they called out their warnings. Another of you, one of the Village blacksmiths you seemed to recall scrambled down the hill to the cart.

Suddenly as the Smith appeared a shout and a cry of surprise rang out. Dashing back to see what had happened to your surprise the Carter had vanished and something like a snake had lashed out as the Smith approached! The group near the cart scattered away from it using the Carts bulk to get between whatever it was that had struck down the smith.

Twangg! A crossbow bolt darted into the center of what you had assumed was just the shadow of the cart. Instead the bolt severed a tendril of some writhing slime horror that had masqueraded as the (presumably) dead carter.

The mad Hobbit slashed at the nest of stalks that suddenly sprouted from the creature’s main body, perhaps in the surprise of the unexpected assault poor Boggis was dropped virtually in the uncanny creature as his “porters” fled in panic back to the group. A tendril lashed the Halfling and the snarling hairfoot fell as if struck by an axe.

Panic was about to set in but somebody kept their head. Soon smoke began to wisp from the abandoned cart bed. Another Bolt struck the mass of protoplasm with unerring accuracy causing the thrashin tendrils to vibrate straight up as if a nerve had been struck by the now dissolving bolt. Boggis, still lashed to the pole rolled himself away and down into the ditch by the side of the road; safely out of sight perhaps?

Whatever the Bolt had done to the creature it was enough for the downed villagers to be recovered. Sadly the Blacksmith was no more, but after a slap or two and a dose of water the Hobbit struggled awake once more. A little groggy but still full of vim and vigor and cussing.

“They’ll find that fer sure!” Muttered Rats MaGee, tossing his thumb to the smokey plum billowing from the ruined cart and the roasted monster below it. “lemmie see if I can give ’em something else ta find!”

Five minutes later the Rat catcher has laid a snare or two, this time sized up to catch Orc legs and even a couple of his largest rat traps now lay in wait to trip the toenails of any Wolf that stepped too near.

“Might slow ’em down at least” He muttered as the group got underway again….

---

A couple of miles passed without further incident. Either MaGee’s traps had been unusually successful or else the other groups were being unlucky at your advantage but either way the motley group of villagers wasn’t complaining.

“I see something moving ahead” declared the Elf. Sure enough an Orc was plainly visible through the thinning trees. A closer look showed that a thin Birch tree had been crudely felled across the track you were taking and perhaps four or five Orcs were inexpertly laying a trap for refugees or others. By great good fortune you had spotted them first!

“No help fer it” the Merc Guide snarled. “they is right in our way”

“Fine w’ me!” Snorted a Dwarf and to the amazement of some he tore off towards the Awaiting Orcs!

“Fook!” snapped MaGee as he levelled his crossbow at one of the surprised Orcs.

“He has much brave faith yes?” Lisped a skin clan Hunter as he unshipped his Bow and took a shot at another of the Orcs.

One of the Orcs spun backwards behind the makeshift barricade a missile embedded in its shoulder, Evidently at least one had a Bow as well as a crude black fletched arrow shot over the head of the charging Dwarf to little effect. Suddenly a Wolf crashed from the brush on one side f the barricade and charged into the fray! Not to be upstaged by a Mutt the Woodchopper slipped his axe off his shoulder into a two handed grip and strode to the Barricade almost sundering it in two with one well muscled chop at the light wood.

Staring dumbfoundedly at the Villagers he was nominally “protecting” tore at the Orcs the Mercenary lad grabbed for his sword and advanced cautiously forward.

But the wrath of the Dwarfs burns as hot as their forges and by the time he got to the Barricade the shot Orc had met his foul gods as he was stabbed from below and under his mailed skirt. MaGee’s crossbow had tagged another – between the eyes by then and the assorted “weapons” of the Villagers had laid the others low. The Wolf had come crashing down at the feet of one Dwarf an arrow in its chest. Carefully the Dwarf hacked the wolfs body. There would be no surprises this time.

In a moment the would be ambushers were dead. With a cackle the Hobbit began rifling the pockets of the nearest one. Not willing to let him have it all this time the rest of the “warriors” followed suit. Soon a small pile of wealth was theirs including the Orcs crude armour and weapons.

“Hurry it up we gotta go” quoth the unlikely guide.

“one minute more” replied Rats Magee as he sliced a stake sharp and set it into a snare for any pursuit once more…

---

And that’s as much as I can recall and dramatise without going into ridiculous detail LOL. Sorry if nobody got a mention that wanted one. Please write you r own version if you want I have have no problems there! More the merrier (and funnier!). See you all tomorra for Part 2 in which I trust we’ll finish this little intro jaunt and get you settled into choosing your Main(s) from the survivors of this romp in the woods…