Enter the Ogre
The ogre stalks a way into the clearing. In its left hand a spear. In its right swings a hand axe the size of woodsman's treefeller. It carries a bag slung over its right shoulder, and beneath that, rough cured leather armour.
What wild thoughts run through your minds in that endless frozen moment. Death, glory, fear, duty and fate make a chaotic cacophany. Or not. Perhaps there is just blankness.
In the center of the clearing, a stange silent tableaux. The goblin leader stands motionless, one arm still raised above his head, staring at the ogre. The other goblins couched, poised, mouths open, eyes wide wait - fight or flight.
The tableaux shatters. The boss goblin glaces back at the knight, his quarry, his prize. The head of the morningstar twitches. Then back to the ogre. Muscles tense.
[giant]"Bear?"[/giant] is all the ogre says.
The goblin gets as far as the knight, but the mace never comes down. With a surge the bear crosses the space between himself and the goblin, and slaps the creature, with a soft snap, away from the knight. The goblin jerks to his feet half a dozen feet away from where he just stood. His arm hangs at an impossible angle. Screams and hisses and then the goblin is gone, leaping and scuttling across the clearing to the south. His companions waste no time following.
The ogre frowns.
You stand alone in the clearing now. Except for the knight, motionless on the ground, the ogre and the bear.
Glances flicker between the three up front. Oscar shifts his grip on his sword. Archer shifts his weight to his other foot. Cromwell takes a step. "Who decided?" a small voice in the back of your mind wonders.
Nate rises to his feet and leaps down the slope.
The ogre turns and looks at you.
"And you," he rumbles in heavily accented common, "Do you also want to be trying my patience?"
"Bear thinks I have none."
The ogre snorts and bares his teeth.
But his eyes never leave you. Nor, squatting on its haunches by the still motionless knight, do the bear's.