Remnants of the Horde-Flight from Aruth

[Uriel]

Things had gone Horribly Wrong...

Sitting in the brambles of the clearing, surrounded by groaning Goblins and dying Orcs, Midnight Fang snorted her disgust.
These fools had walked right into an Elvish trap, one time-tested by Aruthian legions against foes for centuries.
Had anyone listened to her? No, the fool Zuregath kept his precious Wizards close, but to him she had been but a Pawn. Well, no matter, now he was Dead <or was he? None had seen his body after his fall into the Lake...>, while she was alive for now at least.
Looking about, she could see several others that looked as if they might prove useful in getting out of this situation.
Where to now...

Wekerak petted Frostbite's Fur. The Winter Wolf's pelt was stiff with dried blood. Frostbite had sustained more than a few cuts and at least 3 arrows from the accurssed Elfies. The Wolf grinned as Wekerak applied ungeants from his pack, Frostbite knew that he would heal, only to eat more pointy-eared elves. Even now his gullet was full of Elf, he having taken a chance to consume most of a poor hapless Scout that Wekerak had suprised prior to the battle. Wekerak looks askance at the other Wolk Rider among those huddled in the clearing. Necromancer...Wekerak stayed clear of this one, lest it spill forth some vileness from the Realms of the Dead. Even a Goblin had his limits...

Valrack smiled grimly. Kithcor was nearby, licking blood from a dying Orc, the stupid brute too gone to care. Hex waited at hand, silent as ever, the glow in her eyesockets a dim amber. Things had not gone as planned. Dessus would be greatly displeased. Many of the Brothers of the Shroud had fallen in final Death, of this he was saddened. His Brethren should have the chance to Rise again, to visit the delicious Kiss of Unlife upon the Elves. Perhaps he could return to the site of the battle some day. Oh, the Horde he could raise from such a fine Slaughter. Something close at hand caused the Necromancer to look up. A struggle in the bushes, punctuated by a muffled squeal and the sound of some beast feeding. Ah, the politics of the Horde...

Kurg smiled wickedly, the Goblin had struggled greatly, which only made the meal all the better. A fresh gush of blood into the gnoll's mouth tasted like sweet bliss. crunching an arm, Kurg began his dinner. Things might be falling apart all around him, but who really cared as long as there was food at hand. In the Horde, there was always Food. A disturbance nearby caused Kurg to freeze, ten relax, as it was only one of the brutish Muragar, the Horde's Shock Troopers, an ogre...

Durgo sniffed the air. No Elfs, but much blood, yes, much. Little goblins everywhere, dying and moaning. Eats would be good tonight. Looking to his left, Durgo could see Captain Varn, the Hobgoblin pacing to and fro assessing the situation of the troops. Durgo was Varn's Right Hand,Corporal of the Company, Head-basher. Durgo did as Varn said, cause Varn had got Durgo outta some bad situations, some real bad ones. Like this morning, Elfs all around, a Phalanx of them, pikes stabbing, cutting the Muragar down, stinking cowardly Elves.Durgo wus ready to Die, like Ravarg had only a few minutes before. Ravarg...Durgo's brother had been shot with arrows, endless arrows. Then Varn was there, hewing Elfs with his falchion, with a squad of Hobgoblins and Vukar, the Company 'Pet'. Vukar wuz a Owlbear, almost big as Durgo. Vukar wuz crazy, tearing Elfs and even a few Hobgoblins. Varn cut right into the ranks, and his Sorcerer hit them with Lightning and Acid. Them Elfs died quick, with Durgo's Maul on one side and Vukars claws and beak on the other. Vukar had died too, Durgo was sad. Durgo had shared meals with Vukar, the owlbear liked his elf raw, just like Durgo, heh heh. A massive movement in the brambles caused Durgo to leap to his feet, and goblins scrambled for cover as something big stepped into the Clearing. A Bloody figure dragging a massive blade...Bargo, his Son...

Bargo saw red, saw red and heard screaming that would not end. He had ran through the forest, hacking elfs as he found them, the retreat was big mess,elfs all around. Zuregath wuz Dead, Bargo kill Elfs.Run and Kill Elfs, that what Bargo did! That his job.
Some of the Elfs looked like orcs, some yelled his name as he kill them. How Elfs know Bargo's name? Probly cause Bargo fierce! He laugh as he kill elfs that look like Orcs and yell his name, pleading no Kill...stupid Elfs. Bargo run through forest, see only Red, Rage in his mind. Only Elf Splitter stayed with him. Elf Splitter talk to him, tell him Kill Elfs!!! Varn tell him Kill Elfs! Even Durgo say that Bargo good at Killing Elfs....
Later, as the rage subsided, Bargo drag himself into the clearing, Orcs and goblins scurrying for cover, so often had Bargo kill them by mistake. His father stood there, a scowl upon his face. Varn was there too, look at him and shake his head.
Bargo looked down, he holding Orc head, bloody and covered in gore. How that happen? Bargo had killed Elfs, not Orcs.
Oh well, Bargo slumped down, resting for the first time in hours.

Captain Varn had made the decision to make for the Plains to the North with as many as who would follow.
'Bug-Out' was in one hour.
The Company's Priest had made the rounds, doing what he could, healing alll that looked able to make the trek, though many still had wounds.

OoC: The characters are wounded as follows:
Wekerak 6 HP damage.
Frostbite 6HP damage.
Midnight fang 1 HP damage.
Valrack 11 HP damage.
Hex Unhurt
Kithcor Unhurt
Kurg Unhurt
Durgo Unhurt
Bargo 10 HP

Let me know what you wish to do, head Northtowards the Border with Myrach, or something else.
You are currently in the woods, aprox 10-15 miles from the northern edge of the woods-edge.
Scouts have reported a large Elvish force south some 5-8 miles,with something BIG travelling with them.

Forgive my liberty with your characters, though I only posted flavor text.

 

[Jeremy]

Bargo snuffles and huffs in the lull trying to catch his breath, sounding every bit like the monster he is. He kicks the orc head away, confused as to how he got it but can't help but giggle a little as the little eye sockets lose their eyes as it spins away from him and thuds into a tree.

Bargo meets his father's gaze and abruptly stops, looking down quickly. Stupid Bargo! Shut up, Durgo looking for someone to blame. His overlong arms shove into the ground propelling him upwards.

"SHAY MAN!" he roars. "You fix elfie holes in Bargo. Make Bargo itch. You fix or Bargo make you itch!"

Bargo tries to be intimidating to avoid the laughter and kicking he knows is just waiting for the smell of blood to jump him.

 

[Velenne]

Durgo leans against a tree, his great maul in a nearby branch. He reaches up and pulls it down, then turns to look at Bargo.

"You keep quiet," he says low and flatly, "Shay Man done healing for today. Ravarg is dead and Durgo no want to hear about Bargo's puny Elfie holes. We bug out in one hour."

He wants to grab his ugly son by his pointy ears but remembers that he had ripped them off a few days earlier when the boy didn't hear one of Varn's commands. How he not hear Varn with them pointy elfie ears? He isn't sure what else to do so he simply gives the half-elfie a glare that would make a dragon piss.

The enormous ogre walks over to Varn and stands nearby, waiting silently for orders.

 

[Set Harth]

The gray and greasey goblin hobbles his way towards the hobgoblin in charge, Captain Varn, heedless of the blood soaked ground and his equally bloodsoaked robes. One withered claw clutches his ebony cane the other cradles the wound in his side which he ignores for the moment.

In Myrachian Valrack weezes, "Captain Varn, do you have a map of the area. The cursed elves rapidly approach from the south and we must soon flee if we are to survive."

A small vampire bat suddenly lands on Valrack's shoulder, clutching his robes to steady itself the tiny creature licks its bloodly jaws, yawns, then climbs down into Valracks robes. Curious eyes can see the tiny bulge of the familiar climb down to the necromancer's wasit then disappear. Meanwhile Valrack contiunes to talk.

"The elves are not stupid and will expect us to go north. I suggest we go west or east and try to out flank them, their forces will be consentrating on the north." Valrack pauses to kick a dying goblin away which is clutching at his robes. "We mayhap find cover in a cave or gully and wait for darkness to fall before making our escape north."

 

[Mickerus]

After watching the pathetic rabble that managed to survive thus far, Sellanais quickly reached a decision; though in ordinary circumstances escape would be a matter of simplicity, the scattered remnants of the bloodthirsty horde and the elven hunters who pursued them would complicate matters. Instead, it would be best to join one of the stronger mobs of deserters and slip away when they were far enough from elven territory to travel alone in safety.

After spying Captain Varn from the safety of her cover, she quickly makes her way over, stalking even in the open with almost unnatural grace. As others notice an elven soldier walking brazenly in the open, she mentally commands the pin in hair to undo its altering magic, and assumes her natural form and after giving the stench-ridden ogre and half-crippled goblin a cursory glance, addresses Varn in Myrachian.

"You are Captain Varn, yes? I do not know how much information you've been privy to, but I am known to Zuregath as Midnight Fang, if you recognise the name. Before this battle began I and a doppelganger named Ferditz were sent to murder General Aeniauth. We were betrayed, and the man I slew was a mere footman dressed in his armor and displaying his livery. I managed to escape, and in my flight I have slain my pursuers. I would travel with your group to return to Myrach for now; there will be greater safety in numbers, and my talents may well keep all of us alive. If you doubt my loyalties, then I present you a gift."

Sellanais holds up a small cloth bag heavily stained with blood, and turns it upside down. As ten severed elf ears tumble out of the sack, she smiles wickedly, and her eyes take on a reddish gleam, almost seeming to glow.

"They belonged to my pursuers; I don't think any of them have any need of these any more. So, what say you? Shall I join your... merry band?"

Edit: Out, out, damned typos!

 

[Uriel]

Captain Varn looked from the disgusting Necromancer, flies buzzing in and out of his face, to the beautifully Fiendish Assassin before him. The grizzled old Hobgoblin shook his head and sighed.Such times were these when he had to associate with such creatures. He almost wished to serve with Aruth's Legions, at least they had discipline...

Addressing Midnight fang 'Yes, your name is known to me, and many are the foes of Myrach that you have put down, if tales be true. You are welcome to travel with us, thought I assure you that our path will be fraught with Death, for us as well as for them.'
Turning with visible disgust to Dessa Greentongue's Necromancer, Captain Varn signals for his Aide to approach.
The aide, a burly young hobgoblin, withdrew a scroll from his Pouch and layed it upon the ground, pinning it with rocks.
Varn addressed those around him, these having swelled to a considerable number.
The dotted line is the Myrachian Border, as even the thickest headed of you knows. the solid line is where we were as of this morning at Dawn. Our forces are indicated by the red circles. The Legions are Purple.A Belevonese Army, mostly Dwarves and Stone Giants waits on the Border to the West, their ire aroused by the foolish General Urgh, now dead. Had that fool not been intent upon sacking a Mineholt for personal reasons, we would not also have the Belevonese itching to kill us as well. the Hag-fens to the -W are a gamble, as the Coven of Souls has always been an unruly faction, perhaps they would aid us. I do not know the location of the 12th Legion, they were last seen skirting the Woods West. Perhaps they now wait at the Woods north, to cut off our escape. Several tribes of Wood Elves have joined the Legions, even now advancing on our position.And reports have something BIG travelling with the Wood Elves, an ELementa: One of their accursed Living Trees? Maybe even a Dragon for all we know. I plan on heading North with haste, perhaps we can make it to the ruins of gurthluk and hide for the night. Then, on to our territory...who knows, maybe a relief army is heading our way even as we speak.I am open to suggestions, but we had better make it quick...'

 

[Uriel]

Varn's Map...1 inch equals aprox 5 miles.

 

[Velenne]

Durgo listens intently, trying to wrap his mind around Varn's big words and strange talk. He gets the general idea: Go North and try beat 12th Legion of Elfies there, or go Northwest and test luck with Hags (Durgo hated hags, always fooling and tricking), or...

The ogre scratches his head...Varn had left something out. He reaches down with an overly-long, thickly-muscled and armored arm to touch the red dots on the right side of the map.

"Where dem go? We find Krogaruk and Morvak, maybe some giants dat way? Maybe dem going North too. We meet dem and go to Garthink, Cap'n?"

 

[Set Harth]

The quite rancid goblin squats obscenely to peer at the hand drawn map. Using his cane to point he offers his advice. "As you say, the 12 legion is probably heading us off. Only a fool walks into a trap he knows is there. The fens maybe a possibility but the 8th is close to there as well, East the ogre says. Do we know if any forces survive there. If Zurgath fell at Lake Nyssar then the elfs forces there must be strong. I'm not sure that is wise.."

 

[Orochi]

As the goblins cries die away in the mangled throat of Kurg's "snack", the gnollish warrior priest hears more of the conversation going on around him. He looks up, his red dyed muzzle further stained with gore as he rips an arm free from the corpse to eat later. He spies the group huddled around the map. Two ogres, a pair of goblins, and hob commander, and something...tasty. He licks his chops, only with an effort stiffling the urge to rend. If she is with the Horde, and still alive, there must be more to her than looks. He approaches, noticing the pile of elf ears laying on the ground at her feet.

He slips in almost unnoticed as one of the goblins speaks.

As you say, the 12 legion is probably heading us off. Only a fool walks into a trap he knows is there. The fens maybe a possibility but the 8th is close to there as well, East the ogre says. Do we know if any forces survive there. If Zurgath fell at Lake Nyssar then forces there must be strong. I'm not sure that is wise..

Kurg looks down at the map for a moment before commenting in clipped Myrachian, not strained, just abreviated, as though he has no interest beyond basic communication.

"North and west. Behind the 12th and before the 8th. Pick off rear guard and outriders from the fens, where armies can't follow easy.