After glancing in the direction of the rising smoke, a capable looking man in a white tunic and blue vest turns his attention back to the banquet before him. A newcomer to the area he has only been in Daggerdale for a few days. He was invited to the feast because he helped located little Anna Thisleton, the daughter of a local farmer, who had been lost in the woods. Amongst the buzz of worried locals, he seems oblivious to the situation. He washes down the last bite of roast pig with a final gulp of refreshing apple cider. As others rush about in a mild panic he slowly rises from his seat and fastens a blue cloak about his neck. He picks up a sword and scabbard lying at his feet and attaches the well-crafted weapon to his belt. He walks toward Randal Morn. People can now get a good look at this stranger. With chiseled features, wavy brown hair and sapphire blue eyes, handsome would be a fitting, if not understated. description. His build is even, not overly defined yet not flabby either. Although armorless, the way he carries the sword at his side shows people he knows how to use it. He walks with the grace and presence of the elite yet there is no air of haughtiness about him. Reaching to his neck he pulls forth a whistle and blows hard on the small noisemaker. The shrill sound quiets the crowd who turn to look for its origin. The short quiet is interrupted by the screech of a bird of prey. A beautiful falcon flits down from the sky and lands on the now intriguing man's shoulder. Finally near Randal, he extends an arm. "Well Met! I am Rondad Theralin of Phlan. In the name of Tyr, justice must be served. I offer whatever assistance I can." He nods his head in a slight bow of respect.

Startled, Randal Morn turns to Rondad, his face a mixture of confusion and fear. He hangs his head and puts his hands on the table, a look of defeat about the gesture. But only for an instant. He stands tall once again, now fully back in control. He reaches up and puts a hand on Rondad's shoulder. "Thank you. What I need you to do......"

"Rider!" shouts a villager. Randal spins about, his bastard sword from its sheath in an instant. You can hear steel being drawn all around you. A white stallion breaks around a farmhouse, its black plate clad rider slumped over the saddle. The look that spreads across Randal's face is now a mixture of dread and horror. He drops his sword and runs to the stallion, easing the soldier from the saddle and laying him gently on the ground. cradling him in his arms. As you move closer, you can see two score or more wounds bleeding profusely. He won't live much longer.

He speaks "Randal.....Morn.......must reach......Randal Morn...."

"you have, my friend," replies Randal

A smile finds its way to the dying soldier's face. it fades all to quickly. "Come to warn....many thousands.......monsters.........great mage...." He reaches up, grabbing Randal's collar and screams " They're all dead! The riders are all dead!" he then coughs once, blood splattering on his lips, convulses slightly and falls still. Randal lays his head gently on the ground, then stands and mutters a soft prayer to Kelemvor, God of the Dead. He then explodes into action "To arms! To arms!" the cry is echoed throughout the village. Everyone able to raise a sword begins to make defensive preperations. Randal stops and turns to Rondad. "You want to help? Find out what in the nine hells is going on. I have barely enough men to properly defend the dale, so I can't give you any ." He turns to the group that rescued the girl. "You. You helped find Avard's daughter. This time the life of every man, woman and child in the dale is at stake. If ever you loved your gods, go. Help us." With that, he turns and looks at each of you, his look of fear replaced by a look of determination. He nods his head and sprints off to help set the defenses for the dale.

As Randal moves off, Rondad's face finally grows very serious. Looking to Blake he speaks calmly but in a voice filled with concern, "This I did not expect. I am not from around here and therefore do not know my way well enough to decide what should be done next. Do you think we can find horses?"

He looks to Jornath. "If at anytime we need Justice, it is now, my friend. Will Tyr lead you to join us?"

"Tyr not only dispenses Justice, it is He who Protects the innocent. May Tyr guide our arms as we prepare for the battle. What would seem most prudent to you all?," says Jornath.

"Clayton, it looks like your luck has changed. For better or worse, I don't know. But you wanted travel and it looks like you can now have it."

"Mr. Rondad, I can be of great use to you and the rest of the group. Although I am not big and strong, I can scout and get into places a normal warrior cant. I will follow you and try to help the best I can," Clayton responds to Rondad's statement.

Finally he smirks at Belak. "We might not have got along very well in the last couple of days because of that incident with the axe but we surely could use it now. I can put aside hard feelings if you can too?"

The tall man extends his left arm and Sabre waddles out to his wrist. "Sabre: Scout! Fly!" He releases the bird into the air and then begins making sure that his equipment is all secure. During his preparation he adds, "Blake, I'm not sure if we shouldn't be staying to help defend but Randal seems to want us to do otherwise. I know these are your kinsfolk so I'll let you make the call."

Blake says..."Randal Morn is a wise and experienced leader. His suggestion is tactically sound. For the price for a few extra men defending the town he will gain valuable information as to who the enemy is, their number, movement, strenghts and weakness. I know these wood better than anybody, anyone willing to follow me, gather your gear. We ride now! With that said, Blake whistles to his Steller Jay companion, he calls Scout, and the bird flies off toward the fire at Mistledale.

Belak says "Don't forget one pony.....I don't care much for those long legged horses"

Myrage regards the many occupants of the square, his darting eyes taking in the many details of the citizens as if their faces were a scroll bearing the words of their past. Farmers enlisted into the local militia take up the majority of the folk he guessed, but a few of them......

The rangers' gaze fell upon the Dwarf that stood beside three others. They all bore the mark of adventurers, their clothes stained and torn and their weapons gnarled and marred. The Dwarfs' axe still dripped with the remnants of fresh blood, and Myrage could not help but smile as he recognised the slimy ichor as the blood of an Orc.

"I see ye been finding fair game in the woods" The rangers words startled the Dwarf as the short demihuman realised they were been directed at him. Myrage could not keep the smile off his face as he considered the prospect of the Dwarf in full battle rage, dealing his redemption upon the foul goblinoids.

"If yer lookin' to be findin' more, ye should stick by me friend here" Myrages' hand fell subconciously to ruffle the muzzle of Az' "He's to be smellin' 'em from a mile".

Myrage laughed as the eyes of the Dwarf seemed to pop out of his bearded head, and drool began to edge down his lip.

Randal motioned to one of his citizens to inform the stableboy and storekeeper to give the adventurers whatever they required.

Myrage turned to Rondad, his voice low, "I will venture with you, for a ways at least. I do no generally involve myself with the politics of villagefolk, but I feel an evil here. If it is not conquered, it will spill throughout the realms. This, I can not have"

The ranger turned, heading toward the stable to gather a mount for the long ride. "I'm afraid you may have some running ahead of you Az'" he said to the mongrel trailing behind him, the dog barked and Myrage let out a laugh, as if he somehow knew the implications of the dogs reply.

As he entered the stable, his eyes were immediately drawn to a chestnut foul , barely two days old, being tendered by it's mother. Myrage appraised the quality of the foul immediately, it's legs already straight, bearing it's weight. Myrage stepped quietly to the equine twosome, careful not to startle the mothering horse. He dropped his hand onto the flank of the foul , feeling the power of nature fully undiluted in the newborn animal. Saying a quiet prayer to his goddess, he stepped over to the next stall, where stood a large, regal stallion. It snorted in derision as the ranger got close, it's hooves stamping dangerously in a prance of contempt. Myrage clucked his tongue soothingly, careful not to startle the animal as he layed his hand upon the white flash at it's brow. The horse apparently recognised the good intentions of the ranger, and within a few minutes, was rubbing it's nose into the palm of the forest man.

He motioned to the stable boy, who looked on confused, that he would take the large horse. The stable lad had received the message to allow the stranger to take any of the unowned horses, but still, he was shocked at the rangers choice. Ger'aldia, the large stallion, was unridable, it's previous owner have exchanged it for a few coins. The stable apprentice had tried to break the spirit of the horse, attempting to ride him every day since then, but the only thing he had to show for it was multiple scratches and other contusions.

He shrugged, motioning his consent to be rid of the Horse, after all, Randal would compensate him a more than fair price.

Myrage walked the horse from the stable, looking once more at the foul, and guided it into the village square.

As horses and equipment are gathered, Rondad stands stoically awaiting the others. He does not seem interested in choosing his own horse but is instead content to accept whatever is given to him.

As he stands quietly lost in thought, he unexplainably stumbles. It is only slight and only those paying close attention might notice. A look of horror touches his face and then it is quickly replaced with a look of grave concern.

"Sabre!..." he says aloud, startling anyone who is near.

"Hurry!" he insists suddenly becoming uncharacteristically impatient. "My falcon, he is in trouble." He quickly moves to the horse that he has been provided and skillfully mounts the animal, betraying his training in horsemanship.

He looks to Blake. "The situation is much worse than we could have imagined. There is a massive army of goblinkind near Mistledale. In their midst are creatures I have never seen before. They stand beside a red tower, a monument to evil. And they are led by a human in black robes. I could feel the evil even in my vision. He sensed my poor Sabre, and then my image was severed."

"We must ride with stealth lest we advance straight into death itself!"

Myrage was on Geraldia in a second, his body lithly mounting the saddless stallion. Grabbing the reins, the ranger tugged the horse into a sharp turn , pointing his mount into the direction of the lost falcon. "Let us leave, I do not like the prospect of such a fine bird being the next meal for a pack of slavering Orcs."

Myrage didn't even wait for a response, and following the already sprinting form of Az', sets his mount into a gallop.

"Let those who do deal with Evil tremble today, for Tyr's wrath comes hunting!" With that Jornath also mounts his horse (with much less aplomb and ease than either Myrage or Rondad), and wheels it around to join Rondad.

Rondad watches as Myrage speeds off. He shakes his head and then looks to see if Blake and the others are ready.

"Are we actually going to take on an entire ARMY of orcs? We are but a few and they must number in the hundreds, maybe thousands. I suggest that we go about this in another direction. Maybe a little scouting, we have a ranger among us and I could go with him. If we try to stop them, attacking them from the front will do little, I think that from behind would do much more damage. I am just suggesting ideas, I am not a leader so I will follow what the group decides. I hope Tymora shines on our souls," says Clayton.

Annoyed with Myrage's hasty response to Rondad's vision, Blake turns to Rondad and says he is a ranger, let him beat the bushes for awhile. Hell find us later. Blake mutters under his breath, I'm surprised he's lived this long.

Rondad, I regret the fate of your falcon but many lives are at stake here, including our own. First, we must find Randal Morn and tell him of your vision. Remember, our whole mission is to supply Daggerdale with information. Lets not let Sabre's sacrifice be in vane.

Blake turns and points to all the preparations going on around him and says, Secondly, our party is not even assembled yet! We must make sure we have every thing we need, before we go. When we return, this town could be under siege and well have no one to turn to but ourselves. Pack like you're never coming back because we just might not!

Now, lets find Randal Morn.

Blake looks at Myrage's trail of dust in the distance, sighs and heads off to find Randal Morn...

Rondad calls out to Blake before he gets too far away. "I will wait for you here and help out anyone with last minute preparations. I'd suggest you tell Randal that this situation will require much more than a standing army of determined Dalemen will provide. If he has ways to call upon allies, he best send the message immediately. May Tyr protect us all..."

At the sound of the word orc, the dwarf's eyes narrow and his knuckles turn white from gripping his axe so hard. "Orcs, it is always orcs....when do we leave" He mutters to himself about avenging and may their sticking hides rot upon the battlefield.

As blake searches for Randall Morn, he finds him knee deep in a pile of dirt, filling sandbags. He stops as you approach, and listens to your story.

"It is as I feared. Well, my friend, this is how heroes are made. Go. See if you can find a weakness in their defense. Stop them if you can. I can spare no Dalesmen. Even with superior numbers, they are only orcs. With proper defenses, we can hold them off. If we are prepared. As for their monstrous allies, find out what manner of creature, and destroy them if you can. Gurriela tactics are best here. The red tower is obviously a magical creation, destroy it if possible. As for powerful allies, you can pretty much give that up. Elminster has more powerful enemies than orcs and another mage. Unless and until this army threatens another kingdom, we are on our own. Now go, every minute wasted hrer is another minute they have to bolster defenses." With that, he dismisses you and returns to his preperations.

As Blake returns from speaking with Randal, Rondad looks at him and then looks off in the direction of the four who have ridden off. He pats his mount on the neck and sighs. "They don't understand discipline. It is hard to find teamwork in a collection of individuals..."

"You tend to find head-strong people at the front of an army, thus I stay to the rear and act from there. I still stand by my idea that we do what was asked of us and find out more information. Maybe if we are lucky then we can cause a bit of 'harm' to the attacking horde," Clayton says with a look of anticipation. Clayton looks upon the 'friends' that stayed behind and asks, "What do you two think? I am not a tactician so if one of you have more experience in these matters then I will do what I can to help stop the destruction of the beautiful Dales that many of us call home."

"I was once a... a soldier." Rondad says hesitantly, "As a soldier you learn that proper tactics start with good leadership. I no longer lead but I can recognize those that possess the ability. Thus, I have been deferring to Blake." He returns his gaze to the ranger. "Shall we ride?"

"I ain't much for fighting like a coward, I like to join battle head on, but considering the immensity of the situation, perhaps a less direct route would be the best choice. Besides I'm sure I'll be getting the chance to kill some more of those rotten flea infested bags of dragon droppings in the future."

Belak graps the reins of his pony and mounts the steed (tiny one at that). He directs the pony in the direction that the rest of the party already mounted is facing.

"The longer we stand around here doing nothin' the harder it is going to be solving this "problem"."

"Amen Brother! Enough of our prattle, let us be gone to find out what Evil is behind this plot. Let the wicked know that their doom cometh on wings of steel!" Without waiting for any kind of yeas or nays, Jornath rides off in the general direction that Myrage did. This bold stand is made more than a little comical when the rest realize that Jornath is doing everything he can just to stay on the horse....

Jornath

A well muscled calvalry rider donning a yellow trimmed navy coloured tabbard emblazoned with a traditional calvalry emblem, matching breeches and riding boots moves fromt he back of the group, head hanging and then shaking in dismay at the group as she sits astride a high stepping jet black Andalusion stallion. Her long black braid flies to either side of her shoulders and her long fingered hand moves to hold her forehead briefly before it falls to her sabre hilt and she levels her gaze at the group once again. There is vague amusement in her dark lashed azure eyes.

In a melodic and faintly amused voice she speaks, "Jacosa Huxley attempting patience in your service, good gentles. I beseech you...can we -=please=- be on our way or shall we gather some wagons to bring the supplies you might be awanting?! The enemy awaits no man gathering supplies and our duty is clear! The Dales want of our protection."

Clayton, it is apparent to me that even though you admit to having little tactical experience, you still have more sense in your head than the rest of the so called experienced people in this party! Don't sell yourself short.

Rondad, I am honored at your offer of leadership. I feel that you are equally qualified. I do not consider myself a leader or ever have any designs on being one. However, if I must become a leader to keep us out of an orc stew pot, then a leader is what I will be!

Now, you two go find the rest of the group. I have some information to gather.

Blake, vears his paint horse into the woods, jumping over a fallen log, and disappears into the forest.

Over the hill and through the woods....

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