The Last War

[POG]

The nine lancers charged forward spurring their mounts into rapid motion.  They let forth a savage bloodcurdling howl designed to sow seeds of fear into their enemy’s hearts and sent their adversaries into a fog of stunned panic.  It was a tactic that served them well in their last battle at Palaten, but the group they faced now were no mere novices to battle.

Baldwin couldn’t hear the lancer’s war cry.  His hands were dry as he snatched a yard long arrow from its place in the ground.  He brought it to his shoulder in a fluid motion, the fletching brushing his cheek.  The trees disappeared, as did the sky, he sighted along the length of the straight shaft, barely perceiving its metal point.  The nine riders appeared in his vision as a sea of frenzied motion.  His heart hammered in his ears.  He bit his lip, the bow string leaving a crease in the skin of his face.  His heartbeat slowed.  The riders slowed.

The ground fell away; he could no longer sense his friends.

His heartbeat slowed.

The riders all disappeared but one.  Boom…Boom…Boom…Boom

His heartbeat slowed Boom……Boom…..Boom

The rider became larger, filling his vision,  Boom……….Boom

The rider slowed down even more, his head filling Baldwin’s vision, huge, dwarfing the metal tip of the arrow.

Boom……

The arrow flew from Baldwin’s fingers, seemingly of its own volition.

Boom….

The metal tip pierced the rider's eye, still thirty yards away,  penetrating soft brain tissue like downy feathers striking the back of the inside of the man’s skull with a loud report.  The rider did not see what killed him, so fast and true was the flight of the arrow.  He was pitched backwards out of the saddle of his charging mount.  Dead, ere he hit the ground which rushed up to claim him with cold finality.

The real speed of events came to Baldwin in a rush as he grabbed two other arrows from their places in the ground.

“Flanks! Flanks!  Don’t let them come straight at us.  Take to the trees where they can’t use the size and strength of their mounts!â€?

Knocking an arrow Baldwin drew his bowstring back to its familiar crease in his face and slowed his heartbeat…

[POG]

occ Scrasamax,
I hope everything is well with your family.

Dream

Thanks for the compliments.  It's just Pog not Mr. Pog.  You sound like Sam...Mr. Frodo Mr. Frodo   Your writing is far from shabby, I'm sure you know it's excellent, and it's been a pleasure, I'm enjoying it.

POG

[Callista Miala Moonshade]

holly stood and watched as the riders came into the clearing, she pulled back her bow and let an invisible arrow fly through the air, hitting hard into the riders chest he was propelled backwards, and landed on the floor he didn't move again, she turned to a tree grabbed her sword and began to climb high, a horse was just underneath her tree, she jumped onto it's back knocking the rider off and using the horse to run at the others swinging her sword to cut off one of the other riders head's it rolled over the floor and then led still, she pulled a dagger from one of her deep pockets in her cloak, she swung her legs over the horse to sit side saddle and jumped again to another horse grabbing the rider who was on it round the throat and slicing fats but efficantly, he fell again to the floor and led still "yeeha" she shouted as the new horse galloped round the clearing.

[Dream]

Grumple was momentarily confused.  Grumple saw his friend, the holy man, just standing there.  Three horsemen bore down upon them.

In a dramatic flash of cleverness, which the little troll would be proud of for years to come, Grumple stabbed the huge spear into the tree about four feet up.  Getting the black blade into the treetrunk was strangely difficult.  The spear didn't "want" to stick in.  It reminded Grumple of when he played with the wizard's lodestones.  The end marked "N" repelled another marked "N".  But Grumple forced it into the trunk.

Grunting loudly, "CLIMB!" in Trollshaw to the bugbear, Grumple helped the holy man climb up quickly into the tree using the spear as a step.  Then Grumple yanked it out in the nick of time.  The first lancer was upon them, and his lance stabbed Grumple in the leg.  Black blood spurted out.  Grumple stabbed upward without aiming, and Grumple's spear, seemingly hungry for blood, stuck into the man's ribs as if the lodestones were now "N" grabbing out for "S".

The soldier's heart pierced through, his horse ran a few more steps, then the man fell off the horse and landed with a sickening crash next to the frightened Smeed.  Amazingly, in spite of its barbs and serrations, The Tooth fell out of the soldier's gaping wound and lay on the ground, drawing the attention of the old man next to it.  The spear seemed to pulse with invisible emanations.  Without a sound, it almost seemed to say, "You there.  Use Me.  Kill Someone."

Meanwhile, the troll scooted around back behind the treetrunk to avoid the second and third lancers.  They were preparing a net.  Quick as a monkey,  Grumple-"Lite" wrapped his too-long arms around the treetrunk and shinnied up the tree.  The two men tried to wrap the net around the animated little fellow, but Grumple kicked the net away while hanging from a limb about 12 feet off the ground, and then scrambled up onto it.  Grunting from the pain of the leg wound, Grumple turned and looked around to see how the others were doing.

The Lieutenant didn't see the spear, but he saw that the juvenile troll was injured, unarmed and caught up a tree.  It could wait.  Four men down, one more unhorsed.  The humans were the threat.  Their archery was fantastic!  "Kill those men!!" he screamed.  "And that woman!!"


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

OCC:  I should have mentioned, all the soldiers, the Lieutenant, and the Sargeant are available for anyone to kill or use.  Just don't kill Corporal Fox (who is not in this fight, anyway.)  Thanks.

[Wogden]

OOC: Heh heh, thanks, Dream. Time for Good Mr. Smeed to lose control.

IC: Oh dear lord. Smeed shook in fright as the first few soldiers burst into their path, brandishing spears and yelling to frighten the dead. His companions seemed able to defend themselves, but he was helpless... He prayed to anyone in the dark skies above who could hear him.

Around him, the carnage worsened. Smeed saw Holly hacking heads and Baldwin letting arrow after arrow pierce the flesh of the oncoming soldiers. Not far away, the bugbear was climbing to safety... and the troll was helping it. "What about me!?" Smeed wailed, his animosity forgotten in the panic of the battle. He would gladly be hoisted up a tree by a troll if it meant safety from the bloody mess below...

As if to punctuate his last thought, a soldier careened past him, plowing a crimson-splattered furrow in the ground nearby as his horse threw him off. A spear, laced with sanguine stains and festooned with murderous barbs, seemed to fall from the sky as the dead man met the ground. It was altogether the most vicious thing Smeed had ever seen… and yet strangely inviting…

Without really noticing what he was doing, Smeed reached out and grasped the shaft of the weapon. It felt very good in his wrinkled grip, very good indeed. The sounds of the battle seemed to fade into the background as Smeed looked it over in interest. It was a fine weapon. He almost wanted to use it, to strike out and spill blood with its hungry point…

A soldier thundered towards the old man, recognizing the Tooth as their quarry and uttering a bloodcurdling battlecry as he raised his spear to spit the wondering man where he stood. Without thinking, Smeed gave the spear an idle flick, as if to swat this new annoyance like a mosquito.

The soldier gaped in confusion as his spear arm burst from its socket and continued in its flight to bury its weapon deep in a tree. Before the pain reached his mind he was dead, his body finally noticing the wicked steel buried in his heart. He slid sideways off the startled horse and lay still.

Smeed barely noticed. He had already torn the willing spear from the prostrate man, and was looking around for another to spit in the same fashion. Killing was thoroughly enjoyable! Why had he never tried it before? The spear in his hand seemed as though it had always been there, comforting and enraging at the same time. He gave a low growl, almost animalistic in timbre. He wanted to watch something else die now. Something worth killing.  His eyes lit upon the figure of the lieutenant, shouting orders left and right. Now there was a target for his new friend.

[Dream]

Grumple could see bodies on the ground, and stray horses trotting away without riders.  Grumple wondered how many?  Yes, how many?  Grumple knew this was important.

Grumple was not like other trolls, Oh, no.  Grumple could count.

He had learned how to count from the wizard's daughter.  Grumple had spent several years standing guard at the base of the wizard's tower.  The wizard (what WAS his name again?) always said "A Troll in Thrall is the Best Guard."  Which was true, since they are big, not-just-dangerous-but-also-dangerous-looking, and very, very hard to kill.  In addition, very magic resistant, particularly with the proper magical precautions in place.

So, twenty years ago, Grumple (very big and well-fed Grumple) stood guard, as usual at the base of the tower.  And the little girl played in the safest spot in the castle; at Grumple's feet.

"Grumple" the little red-headed girl would say, "count with me!"  "One, Two, Three, Four, Fi..." That's as far as Grumple could get.  Grumple had only three fingers on each hand, and as everyone knows, thumbs don't count very well.  What's more, Grumple's second hand was always occupied counting on the first, so if Grumple tried to count on the second hand, Grumple had to start over.  

Still, sometimes, just sometimes, Grumple could get to Four.  It was hard.

So here and now, Grumple looked out this evening from a tree shared with a very nice bugbear and noticed there were... well...
One, Two, Three good guys left, and... One, Two, Three bad guys left!

That didn't look so bad.

Another soldier cried out and died with a crash, spurting blood.  Then another.

So that meant there were... well...
One, Two, Three good guys left, and... One, Two, Three bad guys left!

Counting was easy, thought Grumple.

[POG]

Baldwin let the last of his arrows fly, slung his bow and grasped Final Judgment.  In the presence of evil, its power flowed into him, lending strength to already powerful limbs.  He ran towards the four riders with the net.  They spun and turned towards him, throwing the net at his racing form.  The net spun toward Baldwin, metal balls at the corners giving it weight and making it spread.  Baldwin sliced downward his sword a glowing blur, rending the net asunder.  The riders jumped toward him, weapons in hand.  Baldwin twirled, blocking well aimed strikes.  Sparks flew.  He set his feet and swung crashing thru his opponent's raised sword.  Metal shattered like glass and Final Judgment severed the rider’s spine.  On the backswing Baldwin’s sword sliced thru tendon and bone slicing off the second rider’s leg at the knee.  The man’s agonized scream pierced the cool night air as Baldwin thrust into the chest of the third rider, Final Judgment pierced thru armor as if it were dry parchment.  The fourth rider reared back to swing at Baldwin’s exposed back,  and a fist sized stone, glowing white hot with heat sped, impossibly fast, streaked into the man’s skull with a tremendous impact, making the man’s head disappear in an explosion of blood and brain matter.  Baldwin mentally thanked his brother before rushing off over the uneven ground to find more men to slay.

Thirty yards away Rory picked up another stone rubbing it between his hands, breathing from deep in his abdomen.  He hummed as he did so.  The stone became warm in his hands and glowed red.  He placed it in the sling on the end of his staff and started to swing it slowly with supple motions of his wrists and waist.  He started to sing in a low voice, a sibilant tune with no audible words.  As he sung the stone turned yellow and then white.  He took there steps then leapt as high as he could swinging his staff with practiced ease.  The stone sped off in a shallow arc traveling about forty yards it struck the breastplate of the private sitting next to the lieutenant, going thru like it was entering water.  The man was dead before the glowing stone exited his back, red with blood…

[Dream]

Grumple counted again.  The bad guys were down to 1, (which was Lieutenant Hanley), but, suddenly, they were back up to three again!

Grumple did not know it, but Second Dekm had heard the sound of battle and joined in.  Grumple began his count again.  Baldwin and Rory had dispatched, well, three, and maybe even four, by the little Troll's accounting.

There were hacked bodies, dying horses, and screams from the wounded soldiers.  Grumple's bleeding leg ached.

It all made Grumple feel very, very hungry.
 
 
 
There was something else gnawing at Grumple.  Something strange.  Where was Grumple's spear?  Grumple looked around.

Lieutenant Hanley was close to the wizened Mr. Smeed, who clutched The Tooth and wore a strange little smile on his wrinkled face.  The Lieutenant was going to get that spear, but knew he had to be careful.  "I know that blasted weapon..." he thought.  "I cannot expect to dodge the d**ned thing, but I can block it."  He circled around on horseback, wary, then dismounted with sword and shield.  It was getting dark under the trees.  Hanley had to end this fast.

With slick, soothing tones, he said, "Drop the spear, old man, and you may walk away free!  You have my word."  Holding up the shield, he moved forward, closer, silently urging the horse along so that Hanley always stood at its rump.  "I only want the spear.  Put it down, old man, NOW!"  

On the word "NOW"  Hanley slapped the horse on the rump with the flat of his sword and the frightened animal bolted forward right into Mr. Smeed.  Shield up, the Lieutenant also charged forward to slay the fortune-teller.

[Wogden]

For an answer, Smeed howled with bloodlust. How dare this scum try and talk him out of the precious weapon? It was his now - HIS, d**n IT!

"Put it down, old man, NOW!" The lieutenant's voice, somehow distorted into an echoing in the back of Smeed's mind, jeering and mocking the beautiful spear. "It..." This weapon could not be addressed as "it". Death would come to the lieutenant for that, beautiful sweet death...

A horse charged out of nowhere, and Smeed's new violent reflexes reacted in the only way they knew, plunging the thirsty spear deep into the vitals of the oncoming beast. The impact did little to stop the charge of a fully-laden warhorse - Smeed, spear and screaming charger were borne back into the trees. The frenzied old man hardly noticed the pain as hundreds of pounds of dying horseflesh finally stumbled to a halt and crushed his spear arm beneath it. Prostrate on the forest floor, he felt something in his arm splinter, yet cared nothing.

The horse was dying slowly, its blood-swamped flanks heaving like a possessed bellows. Smeed caught its bloodshot, panicked glance and felt something odd - as his cowardly, squeamish nature fought with this newfound desire to shed blood. He had just killed - twice...

And what of it? The new Smeed, the wild, vengeful Smeed, crowed in the back of his mind, like a hot iron applied to his skull. Didn't it feel good to kill? Good to deal out judgement on these bastard soldiers who had taken everything from Palaten? Yes, the vicious new voice cried inside him. Yes it did.

Disentangling himself from the horse's carcass, Smeed dragged the spear free. Its jagged tip almost seemed to shine the brighter for all the blood it was soaked in. His left wrist was broken, but that posed little problem. Smeed grasped the handle with his weaker right arm and found little difference in the steadiness of his grip. It was as if this spear was holding itself aloft...

He looked around, and spotted the lieutenant charging as well. Fitting, the new Smeed sneered. The man would die alongside his horse, for daring to dispossess him of his right to wield this weapon! He raised its merciless length above his head, and drove it down with impossible force at the lieutenant's protective shield, hoping to rend it in two and spit the man as he charged.

[Dream]

Grumple saw the little man with GRUMPLE'S spear. Something welled up inside, a feeing Grumple had not felt before.  Grumple was Jealous!

The little troll crouched down on his haunches up on the tree branch, and gathered his strength, then launched his grayish-greenish body out on a jump that would have made a frog proud; possibly even the ones Grumple had just eaten.

Grumple flew outward from the branch with long arms outstretched.  Landing with a "splat" on a flabbergasted horseman, and knocking him to the ground with a crash, the troll jumped off again toward Smeed, springing from horseback before the astonished animal could react.

This time Grumple flew into Smeed's side, knocking him down just as the Lieutenant fell back from an astonishingly powerful attack from the little old man.  His shield was split, but Hanley wasn't an officer just because he was rich.  He was also able to fight, and he jumped back up bleeding badly from a vicious spear wound, and ran Grumple through the back with his sword.

Grumple spun around with a frightening roar, tearing the sword out of Hanley's grip.  With the sword still stuck in his back, Grumple grabbed the officer by the neck and bore him to the ground, choking him with enormous three-fingered hands.  Then, in a breathtaking display of primal fury, the enraged troll choked, beat, and pounded Hanley into the ground until he was beet red, and quite dead.

Standing up, Grumple turned painfully, and with a flash of renewed strength, suddenly grabbed the spear which Smeed still held in a grip of iron.  With a resolute expression on his blood-spattered face, the troll looked up nose-to-nose with the fortune-teller, curled thick, massive gray lips, and snarled out a single word in Trollshaw.  The meaning was clear.  

"MINE."

[Dream]

Sargeant Griswold spun in a circle on his horse.  "What in Unholy Hell was that?!!"  The F****** trees were launching Giant Frogs at his men!

This was too much.  It was nearly too dark to see!  Horsemen cannot fight in the forest at night.

"Sound the Retreat!"  he shouted to his signalman.  The man pulled out his trumpet and blew several quick notes.  Then again, and again, signalling the direction to retreat as he and the Sargeant withdrew down the trail out to the open space beyond the forest.

"We've got to establish a defensive position now!"  yelled the Sargeant to the few men who managed to form up on his position.  "Dig in and establish a watch!  There! there! and over there!  Move it!"

[Wogden]

Smeed's better nature blanched at the sight of the carnage created by the troll, but it was fading fast. What little horror he felt for the bloodshed about was replaced by a tidal wave of unbelieving hatred - that foul, maggot-spawned BEAST had deprived him of his fresh blood, and now it wanted his spear. Just like the lieutenant.

Clutching the spear as tightly as the troll's massive fists permitted, Smeed  snarled a furous oath, more of a growl than any discernible words, and attempted to wrench it back. To no avail - trolls are considerably better at holding on to things than people.

"d**n you, you poxed freak!" All of Smeed's inherent hatred for things not human burst the barriers of his discretion and poured out as he struggled in vain to free his spear from the thing's grip. He screamed in pure hatred, heedless of the terrible pain from his damaged wrist. "This spear is MINE!"

[POG]

Rory was suddenly between them launching a backhand slap that caught Smeed  across his face and left the older man stunned.  ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã…“Stop it both of you!â€?  He kicked Grumple in the chest.    The mini-troll fell backwards but quickly jumped up spear in hand, murderous intent setting his eyes ablaze.  Baldwin stepped between Grumple and his brother, his voice deadly cold, “Give me an excuse.â€?  He lifted Final Judgment with deadly intent.  The sword glowed.  Apparently when creatures good or evil were caught up in the deadly spell of the cursed spear Baldwin’s sword glowed accordingly.

“Can’t you see?  Rory grabbed Smeed roughly by the shoulders, emphasizing his words with rough shaking.  ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã…“It’s the spear it’s the devil’s work?â€?…

[Wogden]

"Blast your soul, you filthy scum!..." Yet even as Smeed stuttered in fury, the feeling was fading in the wake of his common sense. Why in the lord's name had he felt so very bloodthirsty - after a lifetime spent vomiting at the mere sight of blood - if not because of the vile weapon? The new Smeed seemed to retreat into a corner of his mind as logic took over. It was screaming at him to attack the troll and wrest the weapon from his beastly hands, but the old man now recognized the futility.

For an answer to Rory's words, Smeed turned his head and vomited on the trampled, bloodstained forest floor, feeling the residual screeches of his darker side fade away as his body purged the taint from his system. Coughing hard and looking around him dazedly, he took in the extent of the slaughter, as if for the first time. Widening his eyes, he managed a faint croak, dreading the answer. "How... how many did I kill with that... thing?"

[Nobody]

OOC: Well certainly, I shall no doubt be outclassed by such fine writing. I am duelly impressed. POG, you're description of loosing that arrow was truly breathtaking, and I really must pay homage to Dream's new character. Fine writing all around. I shall try to maintain such a level of writing.

-Nobody

[Nobody]

At the sound of "d**n you, you poxed Freak" Odat awoke from his slumber, and for the first time in two years, he awoke without a splitting headache. Who would have thought that a bit of water would save him from a hangover the next morning.

Then memory came back and Odat remembered why he was outside in the wilderness instead of lying in the street of Palaten. Or at least he remembered some of it. Most of his memory of last night had vanished with the many bottles of ale and spirits that had once sat full in front of him.

But that which he could remember was pretty bad. In other words: He needed a drink.

Odat put his hand inside his coat pocket and quickly removed a flask from his brown, tattered trench coat and took a healthy dose of the liquid.

Then, not knowing where he was, or where he was going, Odat walked.

[Dream]

OCC:  Welcome, Nobody.  Good to have you back in a thread.  (Although I'll never get used to your name.  It's either really, really, bad, or it's just perfect.)

**********

IC:  Grumple eyed the sword glowing in front of his chest.  (Not the one that protruded OUT of his chest.  The other one.)  The one held by a powerful warrior.  A powerful warrior that wasn't impressed by a little troll, spear notwithstanding.  You might say that eyeing the Business End of Final Judgment from but a few inches away sort of settled Grumple down.  Perhaps it had that sort of effect on excited folks everywhere.

Who knows?  In any case, as Grumple stopped trembling, the black spear began to feel heavier in his hand, and strangely enough, the sword tip hovering before him grew duller as its glow faded.  In a small pool of black blood, Grumple collapsed, and once again tried reaching behind him in the gathering darkness to pull out yet another unfriendly sharp object from behind.

This routine was definitely becoming annoying.

But Grumple was no ordinary troll, Oh, no.  Grumple was smart.  Grumple could talk.  Yes.  He could talk to Men.  The wounded creature looked up at those standing above him and from deep inside his thick skull, Grumple wracked that which passed for a brain for words, words in Common.

Grumple rolled the sounds around between massive jaws as if he were chewing on a couple of bricks;  but the sounds came out...  

"Help Grumple."

[POG]

Rory crouched over Grumple’s prostrate form.  ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã…“Brother Tantus!â€?  He shouted, “Lend us a hand.â€?  He tried unsuccessfully to staunch the flow of blood coming from the diminutive troll’s wound.

Baldwin looked at Rory jumping forward to aid Grumple.  He envied how easy things were for his brother.  Rory always did what he wanted to do, with an unfettered conscious and free spirit.  Baldwin saw the world differently and although he thought his way was safe he grudgingly admitted it wasn’t necessarily better.  Baldwin needed order.  It was a gift and a curse.  Besides, I can’t get away from the fact that Grumple is a troll.

Baldwin sheathed his sword.  Looking at Smeed, “Mr. Smeed you must get a hold of yourself.  Are you okay?  Are you hurt?â€?

OCC:  Dream, I assume you’re going to take over Tantus?  Am I wrong?

[Wogden]

Smeed nodded his head weakly, the expression of growing horror still upon his wizened face. 'Wrist," he croaked - and as he did so, the pain let itself in. He instinctively grasped his broken forearm, gritting his teeth.

More important to him was the mental ordeal he had just gone through. He had never felt so furious, so ready to kill. It was a terrible shock, to find that even his elderly frame possessed the animalistic bloodlust that he so hated in others.

Smeed had never been a violent man, even in his prime. He had never even drawn the blood of another human being before now... he had almost seen himself as better than others for that... that even in this violent age he restrained his darkest instincts, even in the few times when violence would have solved a problem quicker than an alternative.

And now, he had broken his unspoken vow to never give in to the anger that led to violence. He felt evil, as though the soldier he had killed had been his own son. Choking tears clogged his distraught vision as he sank to his knees in the grime, still clutching his wound tightly, as though to clench the bone back together and erase the painful truth from all that had happened. Evil spear or no evil spear, the hands that grasped it had still been his, and he would never be able to forget that. He was now a murderer.

[Callista Miala Moonshade]

it was all over so fast, Holly was wiping her hands on a small bit of tattered cloth, making sure that all the blood had been taken away, she looked around at the bodies now lying on the ground quite lifeless, there were quite a few golden shimmering arrows around, and holly walked around pulling out each arrow one at a time, and each one as it was pulled out of the body disappeared again, with a blink of an eye all of the long golden arrows had gone, holly walked over to Baldwin and Rory "i wonder what they were after and wheres the others?"

[Dream]

OCC:  POG, I am reluctant to take over such a rich character as Scrasamax has created in Tantus.  I fear that I will do damage to him, but our group needs a healer, IMHO.  So, with everyone's permission, I will try.  But if anyone wants to offer suggestions, or take over playing Tantus, I will not object.

***************
IC:  From the tree branch 12 feet up, Tantus dropped to the ground with a loud "whump!"  He stood up to his impressive full height and strode over to the travellers.  "Oh, Brother Grumple, again you are stricken by men.  I will do what I can."

At the holy man's instruction, the slender Rory held Grumple's shoulders to the ground.  Tantus was murmuring the quieting words, the healing words from his precious book; the words that gradually formed a mellifluous song weaving over and through the damaged frame of the troll.  His hands gently touched the wound where the flesh was attempting to close around the saber's razor edge, as Grumple slowly relaxed to the ground beneath their touch.

Then, with a sudden move that reminded those watching of the bugbear's fierce nature, Tantus yanked the saber out of Grumple's back.  There was a roar of pain from below them, then silence.

Tantus stood up, and once more threw aside a bloody blade.  He then looked across -- and a good bit down -- at Smeed, and offered in as kindly a voice as possible (for a bugbear), "Forgive, me, sir, I did not catch your name.  If you can bring yourself to trust me a little, let me look at your arm.  It will feel much better if I set that bone."

Their attention was drawn by Grumple's heavy breathing... then surprisingly, snores!  Snores that started loud and regular, then grew to an astonishing crescendo of ferocious notes and staccato sounds.

Tantus looked down at the sleeping form.  Wisely, he noted, "It seems Grumple is orchestrating his own music of healing.  Let him sleep.  So should we."

He thought for but a moment listening to the cacaphony of snores, then spoke again, "Although mayhaps we need to sleep some distance from Brother Grumple if we should expect to sleep at all."

[Wogden]

The bugbear's appearance brought Smeed's wrecked mind back to reality. With a flash he remembered the animosity he had shown the creature just a short while before. Yeat, strangely enough, it hardly seemed to matter anymore. Now, looking into the bugbear's small and surprisingly good-natured eyes, the old man realized that he, Smeed Wenderferns, was the more wild of the two. The bugbear had stayed out of sight, working hard against his instinct, while Smeed had lost his head and done the unthinkable.

He drew a ragged breath and addressed the bugbear in a weak voice. "Very well... Brother Tantus. If healing is necessary. And..." Smeed swallowed, and finally let out the words he never thought he would say to something not human... "Smeed... Smeed Wenderferns, at your service."

And with that, the wizened old man succumbed to exhaustion and slipped out of consciousness.

[POG]

Rory looked at Baldwin and then at the mysterious spear that seemed to cause so much trouble.  Baldwin nodded in understanding.

“We need to get out of here.â€?  Baldwin said.  ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã…“Those men will be back.  We need to find a better place to defend ourselves.â€?  He checked the position of his weapons.  ÃƒÂ¢Ã¢â€šÂ¬Ã…“Those men wanted the spear.  When the troll wakes up he has some explaining to do.â€?…

[Callista Miala Moonshade]

holly nodded and turned away from the others, she yawned and stretched, leaning against a tall oak, she slid down the thick trunk and rested on the floor, closing her eye's for a while, sleep slipped over her, and without realising it she was in a horrible nightmare, blood and guts were everywhere, Palaten, her mothers and her little brothers bodies hung from high post's atop of a tall house, been hung there and pierced through with a sharp spear so as to keep them in place, Holly awoke quickly a cold chill swept through her spine, sweat was running down her face she didn't understand this dream came and went on it's on free will as if it had a mind of it's own, holly closed her eye's again but didn't go back to sleep she stood up and wondered away into the dark under growth of the trees, holding her sword close to her just in case, she came to a small babbling brook, the water rolling slowly over stones which lay abandoned from the many mountain slides which happened over the years, for all she knew everyone except for her was asleep, she knelt down by the waters edge and cupped some into her hand, the water was clear a deep shimmering blue, she looked at herself in the still reflection, and splashed it on her face, she threw her hair back as it went also into the water without actually meaning to get it wet she tied it into a loose ponytail on her back, and again splashed water over her face, she sighed and leant back pulling her knees up to her chest and holding on for dear life as if, if she let go then the world would fall out from underneath her, she rested her head on her knee's and watched the water dance, and the glow of the moon shimmering over the clear surface, it was relaxing here calming and she liked it.

[Dream]

Tantus took the fortuitous state of unconsciousness to carefully unwrap Smeed's fingers gripping the broken forearm in his sleep.  Once again, with the soothing, poetic sounds, Tantus made a quick but precise motion with a "snap" that put the radius back in alignment with the ulna.  Smeed woke up with a sudden "Owww!" but seemed surprised that it was so quickly done.  Then the bugbear withdrew a piece of canvaslike material from his pack, and tore off a strip.  Rubbing this with some sort of sticky paste from a small can, he wrapped the canvas into a sheath around the broken forearm.

The paste quickly hardened, and the cloth became a cast; seemingly rock-hard.  Better by far than any normal field dressing.   Tantus said jovially, "Do try, friend Wenderferns, not to stop any more charging horses.  At least not with that hand, for a week or two!"  Smeed nodded, and moved his hand carefully.  It seemed to work well, and with only a little twinge of pain.  He fell back asleep.

After assuring himself that the others in Holly's group were not in need of first aid, Tantus checked the soldiers.  The results of the terrible battle were final for them.  The monk found only one still alive... but with his arm cut off in an act of Final Judgement, the blood loss was too great.  

Strangely, the man did not act terrified of the bugbear.  Perhaps he was too far gone to see, or perhaps he realized the inevitability of his situation.  In any case, Tantus held him tenderly and spoke the holy words that asked forgiveness for lives lost and opportunities missed.  Then, closing the horseman's eyes, he stood once again to his full height and returned to the Rory and Baldwin.

Looking down only slightly at the two humans who stood before him, he spoke once more.  "My friends, I have considered what you have said.  Brother Grumple obviously came by that spear at the hand of an enemy. I pulled it from his back when he was near death.  He is simple of mind and direct of action, but not what you nor I would call "Evil"."  

"The horsemen may have followed him, but, I noted they were ordered to kill or capture Holly.  I know not what she has done to merit such attention.  It does not matter any more.  Those were the knights of the Blackhand.  At this point we are all in this together, because we all will be blamed for killing nearly two squads of the finest horsemen of our self-appointed "emperor"."

"Unless you wish to take up upon these stray horses in the dark of night to pursue and slay the remaining soldiers to the last man, then our actions here will be reported.  I cannot join you on such a quest, and," looking down, he added with some understatement, " I believe my friends Grumple and Smeed are unable."

The bugbear looked back at the two men with a steely gaze.  "When the reports of one such as myself reaches the human army, my life will be certainly forfeit.  Yet I shall not now strip off my robes and pretend only to be a bestial unbeliever to save myself... as if that would save me from an army of angry men."

"So, that leaves only one question... Will we remain together and flee to warn others of the coming storm, or will we separate and be hunted down as rats?  I for one would choose to work as a group.  Although I am not one who is trained in the martial arts, I believe we will need a leader in future conflict.  Battles are lost when fought by committee."

"Holly is clearly trained in combat.  Your own precise actions would indicate the same for yourselves.  Will one of you step up to the task of leadership?  We all may provide our opinions, but the time will come when one must decide.  This will be vital to our survival, I believe."

"My speech was long, but thank you for hearing me out."

Tantus then sat back against a tree with one furry paw on Grumple's back and the other on Smeed's arm and fell asleep himself for a few hours.  He knew they all needed to be gone before daylight.