Wolf Pack Attack!

Arowe's flighted shaft hits Kane straight above his heart, even as he's shouting out an order to his wolves. The elf's smile falters though, as he watches the unkempt woodsman pluck it out as if it was nothing! His flesh instantly bubbles around the wound and heals almost entirely. Undeterred the first arrow is immediately followed by a second but to worryingly similar results.

Kane barks out a laugh, spitting out his rough toothpick and displaying all his slightly pointed, yellowing teeth. He doesn't advance though, leaving that to his summoned pack. On his command, six large adult wolves bound from their shadowy hiding places.

Their speed is terrifying but despite Kane's conceit, the party's defences are sound. The wolves are either funnelled into narrow bottle necks or forced to leap Fortu's spiked barriers. Two of the larger wolves brave the jump but pay heavily for it.

His smile reversing into a snarl, Kane sends Iron, his large, alpha pack leader to bolster the assault. Sensing the weakest of the two-legs, it targets Rifkin. Unsurprisingly, the demi-elf chooses flight over fight but, in his panic, makes a poor tactical decision. The Bard finds himself scrambling for footing on the treacherous scree slope below the near vertical bluff. Caught between the advancing alpha wolf and the cliff-face, Rifkin desperately attempts to heave himself upward but Iron's too quick and snatches him back down by his leather boot.

Back in front of the cave mouth, the heavily armoured Fortu does his best to block the wolves advance and thus enables Arowe and Liga Bur to rain arrows down upon them. Kane, finally realising that he'd yet again, under-estimated the adventurers, prepares to join the fray.

With a series of juddering, inhuman movements, Kane's body bends and cracks. Fur sprouts all over him and claws erupt from his bare hands and feet. The skin from his face splits in two, peeling away to reveal an evil looking lupine-like head...

Simultaneously drawing the two short swords from across his back, Kane leaps up the slope.

"Now you DIE!"

Stranger Ranger Danger!

Now, as prepared as they are, all thoughts of escape are gone and the roaring campfire blazes unhidden. Liga Bur had warned them all to expect the vespertine wolf pack to attack soon after sunset, so it's a surprise to all of them when they're interrupted several hours before nightfall.

Casually setting off Rifkin's shrieking alarm stones and making no attempt at stealth, a hooded, broad-shouldered man strides into the clearing below them. He stops a good thirty feet downhill and well before Fortu's wicked looking barriers. A huge, iron grey wolf stands panting, close at his side.

Liga Bur's eyes narrow; So, not just a random wolf pack but rather a well trained team. But why has this Ranger been tracking them?

The stranger's eyes are hidden in shadow beneath a tattered cloak but he stands barefooted and his leather armour is torn and barely held together with multiple, clumsy stitching attempts. Despite his obvious confidence and vigour, his greying beard betrays his advancing years. He also has two serious looking short-swords sheathed across his back, but what catches your attention most, is the mummified hand hanging from a leather cord around his neck.

While his friends stare down at the interloper, Liga Bur scans the treeline for the other wolves he knows are surely hiding there. He spots a couple slinking up behind the fallen trees and spies a few more lurking in the shadows.

Suddenly, the mysterious man throws back his hood and growls up the slope at the halfling. His voice is like dry gravel.

"I know what you're thinking little scout; Did you spot six more wolves in the undergrowth or was it only five? Well, as the most dangerous pack predators in these here woods, you've got to ask yourself one question... Do you feel lucky?"

As always, the flaxen haired Arowe is the quickest to respond and has already nocked an arrow before the armoured Fortu shouts their shared response over his spiked barricades.

"What do you want?"

A smile flits across the older mans face as he uses his tongue to shift the long, black splinter of lightning wood clenched between his teeth,

"The pack hungers. Give me your three horses and I promise I'll shall spare your lives."

It's a blatant lie...

New Dates

Hi chaps,

Have had a look in my diary and during June / July I can currently do any Saturday / Sunday morning or evening, except Saturday 23rd July.

When is good for you?

Cheers,

Scott

Who Gives a Flying...

 

The Mark of Kane

While leaning casually against the burnt and battered Lightning tree with his left hand, the raggedly dressed Ranger drags a long, claw-like fingernail down the tough bark with his right. After gouging out a long, slender, blackened splinter, he uses it to pick at something trapped between his yellowing teeth.

"I swear; I told them nothing about you!", the Lightning tree whispers.

Kane looks both surprised and a little disappointed, "Really? Nothing? Nothing at all? Weren't they curious about the symbol I'd carved so deeply into your bark? The symbol that I've carved all over the bigger trees in these forests, these last few decades?"

Mouthlessly, the massive black tree continues, "No, nothing. All they wanted to know was how to get to the Dryad pool."

Kane's heavy brow furrows deeper and spittle foams at the corners of his mouth...

"And you told them?! What do they want with Estrid? Who are they? What are their strengths and weaknesses? If you hope to keep on existing, you'd better tell me EVERYTHING you know about them right now!" 

Lightning Tree Strikes

 

Smoke Signals

With, not just one but, three delicious deer roasting on the spit, Liga Bur smiles. He'd estimated that the wolf pack was still, probably, a day behind them and they'd already secured their hilltop camp as best they were able.

The cave had been checked and cleared out. They'd even discovered a crawl space to a secondary smaller cave. A perfect place for a few of them to fall back to if necessary. Fortu too had been busy making makeshift spiked palisades. Despite his entirely combat focused upbringing, everyone had been impressed, not just with his tactical idea but with his surprising rope and knot tying skills.

As the talented halfling scout watches the white smoke billow high into the sky above them, carrying with it the delicious scent of cooked venison, he smiles and shrugs. There's no evading the hunting wolves and his party are as prepared as they can be, so why make themselves hard to find?

Better to fight... or die with a full stomach.

In Search of Safety

With the wolf pack closing in and the elven Arowe and one of the horses still not fully recovered, the halfling scout Liga Bur rides ahead in search of a more defensible position.

Assured that, with the aid of the 'Pointy-finger-stick' wand, Arowe can stay on the right course, Liga Bur and his trusty hound Mir Hundur use their survival skills to look for higher ground and caves. Anywhere that would prevent the wolves from easily surrounding them and stymy their superior speed.

Atop his plodding horse, the armoured Fortu is free to snap branches from the trees as he passes. Wherever they camp, sharpened sticks will surely be helpful...

It's around mid-afternoon when the depleted horse Barry refuses to continue. Arowe is secretly grateful that he didn't have to make the same request out-loud. Within an hour, Liga Bur returns with news of his find.

Less than a few miles out of their way, the party find themselves at the mouth of a, thankfully empty, cave. Big enough to fit all of them as well as the horses and in the side a rocky bluff. Large fallen trees litter the slope leading up to it and the scree to either side of the cave mouth make the terrain inhospitable for a direct assault.

It's an almost perfect place to make a stand.

"Incredible!" offers Rifkin. "It's almost as if we planned it ourselves!"

Fortu sneers though, as he glances around. "It still needs some sort of spiked barriers."