Running off at a brisk pace, the group moves forward, using the sparce vegitation and darkness to (hopefully) stay out of sight from any Elven Scouts. Durgo near front, with Krug and Valrack on Hex loping beside (with the Vampire Bat ranging ahead, searching for any Slinking Elves) beside him. Midnight fang keeps a brisk pace as well, with Bargo bringing up the rear in the hopes that some foolish Elf would try to Ambush him. The Half-Ogre can taste the Elf's flesh now, the delicious sweet tang of Heart-Blood as the elf dies in his grasp, the screams of Leghionarres, pitifully incapable of standing up to mighty Bargo! The Half-Ogre fails to notice the almost imperceptible *Snick* of a branch being broken behind him, as a shadow raises up from where it had been laying in wait, moving quiickly towards Bargo's rear...Not so Midnight fang, who has turned at the sound and seen the form, a tall Elf dressed in black, bearing a pair of short blades.
Initiative Suprise Round
Midnight Fang 22
Elf Assailant 19
Bargo is oblivious, the rest of the party at least 100 feet ahead and unaware of the situation as of now.
Scouting Ahead
Wekerak breathed in the cold air, tinged with the scent of grains from the field that Frostbite now raced across. it felt good to be out of the cave. Goblins had no problem in general with the underground, indeed, many tribes lived beneath the surface their entire lives. Not so Wekerak, whose people raced under the Moon, hunting and slaying as was their wont to do. Had not the Great Maglibuyet ordained it so!!?!
Frostbite gulped air as he ran, glad to be in the open again. With a sudden start, the Winter Wolf stopped, freezing stock-still.
I smell Horses...something is wrong with the Scent, though. Something Off.'
Wekerak hunkered down in the saddle, and Frostbite lowered himself as well, taking cover against a large (7' high) rock outcrop.
COming into view, perhaps 100 feet ahead, and quite visible in the Golden light of the Moon, were Horsemen, 3 of them. No wait...
Something was indeed different. These were not Horsemen, but Centaurs.
Wild Topknots bedecked with silver wire, leather armor studded with steel barbs and yellow faice-paint adorned the Centaurs, who bore powerful Composite Bows and had Lances and massive Greataxes upon Saddle-like harnesses. One Centaur said something too far to hear and pointed. A figure ran along the grass, Wekerak coud clearly see that it was an Orc, running away from the Centaurs. Laughing, the Man-Horses raised Bows and fired, one arrow taking the Orc in the back, while the others missed. Yelling ensued, and the 2 who had missed handed over coins. It would seem that these Beasts thought to make Sport of the Citizens of Myrach...
Wekerak pondered, he was some quarter mile ahead of the others, and alone. As if sensing his thoughts, which may well have been the case, Frostbite Whispered I would teach these Horse-Beasts who rules the Night. Let us sink our teeth deep into their bellies, eh Wekerak, my friend?'
