Rudiot comes walking over, carrying an obsidian longsword that he looks ridiculous wielding. Behind comes Captain Jovleen, leaning on a steel-tipped spear. They both stop and examine the situation. Rudiot starts speaking.
"Odd, eh? Kreen are a lot of things but stupid aint one of them. We might not be an army but they couldn't have believed they could take us down a mekillot caravan with a handful of warriors."
Jovleen starts speaking, her voice cold and low.
"We're being bled, plain and simple. They want to take us out a few at a time and widdle us down. I don't think they counted on running into a collection of competent warriors like you all collected at one spot. Besides that, though, they've been successful. With the exception of the ones you've killed, we've lost six guards..."
"No, only five. The druid cliff-lizard brought Ignon back from the brink," says a burly guard walking over. He points over to Quaketongue, whom is healing and tending to the wounded.
Jovleen grins and nods admiringly.
"That's some good news, I suppose. But back to the problem. We're losing men quickly and we don't know their numbers. Also, the elves are leaving now. Running back towards Urik tonight. They were hit by many more than we were and their taking their chances on their own on foot. We need a plan."
Rudiot paces about, eyeing the darkness beyond the camp suspiciously, but has little to offer. As he steps near one of the downed kreen, it stirs. It seems that Ugg's bludgeoning victims are not dead after all.
