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Remnants of the Horde-Flight from Aruth

"Elves. North." Wekerak readies one of his new arrows, using his knees to guide Frostbite, "Not far. We find 'em, and we can keep one alive long enough to learn where we are." a grin widens on his face, "Fill our food packs, too."
 

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Despite the hag's gifts to him, Durgo cannot help but feel as if he'd been duped. And how he hates that feeling! Stupid mojo peoples always talking around him! Fooling him and tricking him!

The ogre seethes, wringing the worn leather grip around his maul with both hands and gazing into his mist-shrouded environment for threats...just so he can BASH them!

The sound of the trumpet is all the justification he needs.

"Castle is near and needs us to defend! Find dem elfies and SMASH DEM TO BITS! Scout, you's go ahead and tell us dem's numbers. We go!"

He points North, forming a plan as he jogs in his cumberous plate mail. He knew little of mojo and shaymen, but knew that could only go so long without sleeping. Magic came with sleep, he guessed. He hoped he didn't lead them straight into the Legionares's formation...

OOC: We never got a chance to rest anywhere in there right?
 


[/COLOR]If you'd like commanderI could go scout the area quite quickly and return without too much risk, hmmm? Forlash grins a nasty grin...scraching himself along a recently healed tattoo..at least this way I know what I'm facing....
 

The ogre nods, "Go, and be fast!"

His powerful legs propel him forward at an astonishing rate for one so massive. The ogre only jogs, looking for cover somewhere close to where the battle must be. A pause, that's what he needs, so he can see what it was the Hag gave him. "Secure aid in your cause."...what did that mean? And what was in this giant's sack that smelled like dwarves? Dwarf heads? Probably. But if he is going to have to break the forces of the Iron King with only this ragtag company to get to Castle Zuregath, Durgo wants to know what he has.
 

Bargo pounds his way north doing a surprisingly good job of keeping up with Durgo, his slashed armor actually making it light enough for him to ignore it. Bargo smiles as he gains one more step on his father.

Raising elf-splitter above his head he gains closer and closer. Durgo doesn't even see it coming. Sixty plus pounds of enchanted wickedly curving metal cleaves down through his skull before coming to a stop mid back on the massive ogre. His limbs twitch convulsively as his bastard son is coated in a fountain of blood...

***

Bargo wakes out his daydream when he smacks into the back of Durgo who stopped to check his gear.
 

OoC:Make sure you two meatwalls add in the HP boost from the Con Items.
Off to the Doctor for my ankle, Ill post something for you all when I get back.
 
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Forlash looks to the ogres as they dash off....Summoning the flows of magic recently carved into his skin he feels the magic twist his body into a new shape...Where the twisted body of the hag-born once was now a small eagle hesitated for a moment...then spreading its wings it shot into the sky to get a better look at what was ahead...

OOC: polymorph self fly out to the region we're traveling towards to get a good recognicence then search back to Durgo and let him know.
 

Wekerak moved off ahead of the Ogres, even as Forlash took to the skies, an Eagle in form. Kurg stuck close to Durgo, occassionally laughing or barking in anticipation and in happiness to be back in Myrach.

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Wekerak follows the sound of the Battle, seeing a cleft in the hills ahead. The near end had bodies lying on the ground. Elves, they seemed from the look...This was perhaps an eighth of a mile away, some 600 or 700 feet off. The air was flled with fog, though this seemed to be lightening a bit, allowing him to see via the accursed Sun.


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Forlash flew North, the slightly North-West, away from where Wekerak was moving. It felt good to be away from the stink of the Ogres, the bellowing of their coarse voices. of course, they were good at what they did, killing. While not a stellar Commander, at least Durgo was better than the half-Wit Son that strode alongside him. Ah, the feel of the wind on his wings, strong gusts, the Sun above, shining through the parting mist....

...Forlash slamed into something BIG. <11HP subdual>.

Spiralling away, he heard a booming laugh and then a voice, speaking in a foreign tongue to him. He had slammed into the biggest giant that he had ever seen. The thing was at least twenty five feet tall, pale green and dressed in silvery Mail, an Axe that dwarfed Elf-Hewer by double in his hands. The Giant had noticed the Eagle hitting him, and seemed to be concerned that it was not hurt, from the tone.
Below, Forlash could see dead Goblins littering the ground...
 

Tsu'Koka rode towards the Battle, enraged at having been forgotten when Vespazian was marshalling the Troops. What arrogance. No matter, he would do his all for Myrach, most likely coming in the nick of time for the Loutish Human.
Cresting a rise, Tsu'Koka saw a most extraordinary thing.
A pale green field appeared upon the plain, then a massive form stepped through from elsewhere, an Ogre...no, a half-ogre, as distinctly Elvish features were in evidence. the Half-Ogre wore dragon mail the a dark green in color, and he bore a Blade so Huge as to look impossible to wield. Right behind him came a skulking Gnoll, a green skinned dwarf and a Goblinmounted upon a White Wolf. Finally, a huge Ogre stepped through, a massive sword and an great Axe upon his back, a huge hammer in his hands. this Ogre wore Dragon Scale as well, Golden Dragon Scale. It was obvious that these two Ogres were Muragar, though their regimental clothes were tattered and their rank indecipherable at this distance. the gnoll bent down and kissed the ground, clearly overjoyed at being here, until the Ogre kicked him and yelled for him to unfurl the Flag.

The Gnoll cringed and geneflected and then pulled out a two-part staff, screwing the two together and unfurled a Banner. It was a Flag of Zuregath, though the Company Specifics were unclear.

A blast of an elvish horn far off set them in motion. the Ogre barked to the Goblin, who nodded and spurred his Winter Wolf off,a Scout most likely.

The Green Dwarf leapt into the air, Changing into an Eagle, winging his way off as well.

The half-Ogre bawled something unintelligible and lumbered off as well, though the ogre barked an order that hung in the air, unheeded. he too, with the Gnoll in tow, headed off...right towards the Battle at the Crag where Vespazian fought the Aruthian Legions.
 
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