When the group arrives at the new camp Tav goes over and tends to Stalwart "There, there fella you will be good as new after one last nights rest, then we will be as fierce a team as we ever were." He finishes grooming the horse before sitting down and tending to his gear. Making sure that his sword is sharp and his chainmail is free of rust and dirt. Having finished that he heads off to the stream to wash.

While Crystal comforts Myridian after the exhausting day, Kalban prepares for a hunt. Aami goes over to the unlit campfire. She bends forward, extends a finger toward the kindling and murmurs a few words. The flame from her finger ignites the campfire, and she goes to Quill to ask if the group has any cooking implements among their gear, explaining that her family's equipment had been confiscated in Riverside.

Overhearing Aami requesting cooking implements of quill, Daggda replies, "I have a small cooking pot, but naught else. Here," pulling it out of the backpack. Feeling slightly guilty to have retained the backpack and weapons while the elf-kin were sent out of Riverside with nothing, Daggda chews a bearded upper lip self-consciously.

Approaching Sandros, the dwarf's speaks in a soft tone to Sandros. "It was quiet this afternoon, wasn't it?" Daggda is hard-pressed for words, not sure how to communicate with such outwardly emotional people. "I will give you such comfort as Moradin, Flame of the Eternal Forge, can provide. I didn't mean to- That is, I- Your life is not less important than the prince's. I will help you find a cure, this I swear by my father's honor." The dwarf's coal-black eyes glitter sternly.

Sandros gives him a smile. "Don't worry, friend dwarf. I took no offense. And you were right. The Prince needs help NOW, not after we go wading through the swamp. I can wait." He gets a strangely feral glint in his eye, and adds, "And don't worry...if I start to get hungry, I've heard dwarfs are too tough to eat anyway." He chuckles, and gives the priest a hearty slap on the shoulder

Ven had finished tending to his horse and unpacking and was just pulling his spell book out of his saddle bag when Andrew enters the scene. No one else seems to be near by and Ven notices him looking over their ragtag group, so he approaches--spell book tucked under one arm--and offeres his hand to the new comer. In elven, Ven says, "Greetings. I'm Veneron. Glad to meet you."

aking a few careful minutes to care for his horse which includes some casual mumbling that you can't quite make out, Andrew finishes off by leaving him with one of the other groups.

"It's almost as if there is magic in your hands! You haven't even begun and yet somehow I felt drawn to the meal. It's like my stomach knew you'd be cooking Aami," Andrew says with a sly grin.

Standing at ease the slim elf takes an appraising look around. With Ven's greeting a warm smile lights his face as Andrew takes a step to meet the approaching wizard. "Well met Veneron. As you heard from Aami, the name's Andrew and it will be a pleasure to make your aquaintence." Turning to look at the others gathered in the camp Andrew waves his hand or nods his head in turn to each. "And well met to you all. I look forward to talking with you all it has been some time since I've seen so many folks gathered in one place." His words are soft but clear, gentle and relaxing. After shaking hands with Ven Andrew ambles over to see it he can help Aami while in a good natured way annoying his old friend.

Is it disgust that crosses Avon’s face or envy. Whatever the case, he doesn’t look to happy when confronted with this emotional get-together. As a distraction he examines the clover. Then shrugs, nothing special. And puts it away somewhere underneath his clothes.

As he stands up Avon straightens his clothes, moves one hand through his hair to make it even spikier. He picks up his backpack with the other hand. He looks again for a moment at the happy family before him then gurgles and spits on the grass, and walks away disinterested.

Tavarak nods back to the woodsman, "Well met traveller, do you have news of the road ahead?" Tav decides to ask the stranger if he has information about the swamp witch, perhaps after a warm meal would be the best time to broach the subject.

Myr, who had dozed off during Crystal's attentions, suddenly started awake with a "Who! What! Where! When!" look on her face as Andrew's unfamiliar voice permeated her dreams. Sitting up, she stretched out an enormous yawn, and wriggled her fingers at Andrew. "Hi. I hope you're not dinner."

At that strange greeting Andrew cocks his head. Waving back at the mage Andrew replies, "Hello to you as well and I gladly second that statement! Heaven forbid! I'd probably be as tough as nails anyway," he says with an easy laugh.

Quill is just finishing her game of fetch with Edge as the newcomer enters the clearing. She wanted to go hunting, but Edge, for the first time since she's known him, did not want to hunt. Instead, Quill played fetch. Quill tossed the stick one last time and made her way over towards the pot and Andrew. Finally there was someone joining the party who was familiar with the woods. She was quite upset to see Starmyst go, she was the first of the party she had met, back when the met Poppy. (It seemed like ages ago, but it was less than a week.) Hopefully she could connect with this woodsman much like she did somewhat with Star. "Good green to you, my name is Quill," says the ranger, in a typical ranger greeting from her parts. She moves a lock of red-brown hair from her face as she extends her hand to the new adventurer.

In response to Quill's nature greeting, "And a good green to you as well my lady." taking the offered hand Andrew gives it a quick kiss with a flourish and a bow. Appraising the rangers companion Andrew hunkers down and confidently offers the big wolf/dog his hand to scent. "That's a fine animal you've got there," he says and his eyes show a true appreciation of the large dog.

"Not as stringy as elf-meat, anyways, it's always sticking in your teeth," Daggda grins devilishly. "Well met, Andrew.  I am-" and then seeing the exhausted looks of the others, stops short. "I am Daggda Trueforger. My axe is yours.  I am curious how you come to us, elf-friend."

Rabbit stew dinner is good, and the peaceful glen slips toward darkness as the sun sets. Tav raises the question of the swamp witch, giving out as little information about Sandros' condition as possible.

Andrew looks at the Gallant with an appraising glance. "Aye, Sssesathisuss, is her name. She lives in a hut deep in the swamp, at the end of the Little Lizard River -- that's the stream that runs near Riverside," he explains. "She's not part of the Lizardman raiders' clan. She and Ssarss --that's the raiders' war chief -- have been feuding for years. I've never met the Swamp WItch, but some of the locals go to her for potions and such. They say she's hard to deal with but honest -- at least in the Lizardman way. In other words, she'll never make an equal trade -- always wants to get more than she gives."

After dinner, Avon unpacks the harp and takes it over to Myr. She advises that it is not magical. In passing it back and forth between them, the harp is seen by Kalban who walks over and kneels near Avon and Myr. "That harp," he says softly, "does it have a name plate? 'Auriella' perhaps? Auriella is a famous bard among my people, and I would ask how it came to be that you have her harp? Understand that I make no accusation or suggest any wrong doing ... but she would not be separated from her harp unless her situation was dire indeed. Please tell me what news you have of her. ... She is the youngest daughter of the Amaryss clan of elves -- distant relatives of mine -- and quite an accomplished swordswoman, especially with her enchanted blade, 'Dragon's Claw' , so I've no doubt she's safe enough. But I'm sure that the Clan Lord Amaryss will ransom her harp for her."

Avon eyes light up. Maybe it's the flames of the campfire that reflect in his eyes, however he looks threatening. "You keep away from my harp." In a shocked move he holds the harp away from his body and away from Kalban. Then as he hears him speak of ransom he relaxes somewhat. "Let me assure you there is nothing you can do for her... and I had nothing to do with it. But you talk of a ransom." Avon starts packing his harp back into his backpack. The fact that it is not magical disappoints him. Still it will probably make enough money for a nice night in the town. With the thought of money he smiles.

Kalban speaks softly, trying to reassure the mercurial Theif.  "Be easy, friend, for I'll not take it from you. It *is* the harp of Auriella then? Before it became ~yours~" his emphasis on the word is clear " it was hers for more than 300 years. And I doubt she's ever played a wrong note with it." He is speaking slowly and softly, as one might address a frightened horse. "Nothing I can do for her ?? ~Nothing~ is a very large word, and there may be those who can do things that neither of us can imagine. If she is in peril, I surely can find a way to help. If she is hurt or even dead ... well, elves are a hearty breed, as you know, elf-kin ... and sometimes even death can be cheated. And even if she has gone to Beyond for all eternity, her family would be comforted to know the manner and situation of her final song."

Avon sighs heavily. "Listen, I don't know who's harp it was. All I know is that there was a dead body and a harp lying around in the woods. Finders keepers, I guess."

Kalban smiles at Avon's reaction to ransom, his teeth gleam white in the darkening camp. "Yes a ransom. I thought that might catch your attention. The Clan Amaryss has not gold nor silver ... but their territory is said to contain one of a small diamond mine -- no one save the Clan themselves knows the location. Lest you become too excited, remember that I am not of the clan, but only a distant relation. I could perhaps send them a message, however, and see what they might say." He pauses for a moment. "*IF* something like that would be of interest. .... but I dont know. The harp alone without news of it's owner... may not be worth nearly as much."

When he hears Kalban talk tough, Avon raises an eyebrow. He looks directly in Kalban's eyes, and stares at him for a second or two. Then he shrugs, "well I guess we'll never know then." He turns around and walks to his sleeping place. He never liked wiseguys. Especially wiseguys he met two hours ago in the middle of a forrest. If the harp or the woman was that important they would find him any way. Besides, any rich bard would pay a fortune for such a special instrument, too bad it was magical.

Quill shows the sword, bracers, and bow that the party found to Kalban. "Is this the sword you speak of? How about these things?" She also asks the magic users to identify the things that have not yet been identified.

After his talk with Avon, Kalban has enough to guess that Avon, at least, thinks that the bard Auriella is dead. But Kalban's tone and manner clearly indicate that he is not too sure that Avon is right. When Quill comes over with the bracers, bow, and sword, however, Kalban's normally lively face turns very sad. "So it is true then. Auriella has fallen. Yes those are her weapons. See the designs here? Those designs contain the mark of Clan Amaryss. I know little about the weapons. Only that she always wore the bracers when using the bow, she sometimes spoke to Dragon's Claw, and that Claw can glow to give light, both a little and a lot. They are yours now," his voice is a little thicker than normal, and he clears his throat before continuing, "for that has always been the way of adventuring. None who have gone on, would need them."

He looks at Quill with sad eyes, addressing her in the elven tongue, using a very formal style of speech. "Exhalted Lady, I pray thee, in the names of the ancient Elven Lords, what news can you give to direct your humble servant to the body of my kinswoman-- fallen from this realm of existence ?"

Quill has to concentrate on the strange sentence construction and stylized words. But she understands that this request is, somehow, different -- at least to Kalban.

At the end of his watch, Veneron takes the second of the two magical stones and places it in his palm.  Casting the same spell as last night, he goes into the same out-of-body trance as before.  This time he finds himself inside a pale blue aquamarine space.  Firelight is refracted into the gem and shafts of blue light slice thru the air around him.  He reaches out with his mind to touch the inside of the stone.  Once again he sees the stone spinning around him as he walks.  His step feels lighter, more assured, he feels more agile as the stone whirls thru the air.  He reaches out his mental hand and wills the stone to return to his palm.  Veneron opens his eyes, blinking exhaustedly at Sandros, Tavarak and Daggda.  He assures them that he's fine, but is now really, really tired.  He mumbles his way over to his bedroll and falls asleep quickly.

While discussing the status of the quest and the skills of the party adventurers, Daggda removes the poultice from Stalwart's flank, and begins a low chant.  Although distinctly dwarven, the low and guttural tones are given a melodious tenor from Daggda's soft, high-pitched voice.

"Moraduntil ka halaur krol firlin,

Moradin ka jebel trol kuluur.

Alagh no ka barak trol kuur."

"Truly Made the Forger gifts the flame of life,

Moradin reshape this alloy,
To this brave (beast) lend your strength."

Tav listens to the joke, laughing softly, not wanting to wake the others. "A fine joke my friend, and I must admit one that i have not heard before."

Tav continues with the story of how they came to be on the road when the two groups came across each other. "As for the members, well now lets see. Ven is young and I would guess a bit inexperienced in the ways of the world, but his magic is strong and he is a very capable mage. Sandros has some issues from his past that i think bother him, but he is disciplined and fights well. Myr is a hard one to figure out, I'm still working on trying to figure her out. Quill is skilled in the ways of the woods, her sword are is strong and her aim true, there is no one i would rather have watching my back. Avon, on the other hand, is a bit of an enigma, I think he has lead a traumatic life and has troubles coming to grips with trusting people. He is gruff on the outside, yet I see a spark of kindness in him." Tav leans closer "Yet I would be hard pressed to speak those words to his face, lest he take offense" Tav grins, "Yet I have seen them in battle, and would trust my life to any and each of them, for in my eyes they have proven themselves worthy of the label comrade in arms". He keeps talking and listening for the remainer of the shift, every now and then walking the perimeter of the encampment, checking on the horses and looking for signs of unwelcome visitors.

In the depth of the night, during the watch of Kalban and Aami, Edge comes alert, waking Quill. She looks around, quickly awake. The horses, tethered to a rope along one side of the camp are stamping and nickering in fear. In the darkness she sees some small forms approaching the horses. Edge is sniffing the air and growling. The moon, just 2 days past full, is still bright, but the sky is partly cloudy and so it is sometimes dark in the clearing, sometimes bright. The campfire continues to burn, providing some flickering light.

Quill hears the distinctive **zing** of 2 bows and the **thud** of arrows hitting home. She looks toward the sound of bows. Kalban and Aami are firing at the small forms behind the horses. Crouching, Crystal hurries to her, then Avon, Andrew, Sandros, Tav & Daggda, telling them all the same: "It's the cave-goblins. Just a couple now, but they always hunt in packs of a dozen or even 2 dozen. Dad says you'd know if we should wake the mages. They are probably after the horses. Your weapons! Quickly !"

Daggda looks towards the horses, using dark vision to see what life is moving beyond them. Picking up a small flask of water instead of the large footman's pick, the dwarf starts to chant in the guttural tones of the dwarvish language, to which Daggda gives a high, lilting, almost sing-song quality. Flinging water from the flask into the air about the campsite, it lands sprinkles the party members, the horses and their equipment alike.

"Barak ni firlin trol kuur,
Aelin yori alagh;
Moradin ka Arglar teim kuur,
Findar halau trol samman ni narak."

Daggda decides the blessing of Moradin is more appropriate when the recipient understands it, and so repeats the chant in the common tongue for their benefit:

"Strength is given to the flame of life,
For battle-glory is greater than gold-work;
Moradin give my shield-brothers good fortune,
For this day's proper butchering."

The blessing finished, Daggda reaches for the large footman's pick...

Tav rolls out from under his bedroll and quickly puts on his chainmail shirt, before he grabs his sword and shield. "I'd suggest we let them sleep, if the battle gets out of hand i'm sure they will awaken. We do need to ensure that they are safe though, perhaps you could watch over them while we man the perimeter. If not then we should wake them so they can prepare to help with the defence." Tav makes his way to Stalwart and lets out the guide line so that he has room to move about (but is still securely tied to the tree) "There now boy, you have some room to fight. Now lets see who is foolish enough to try and take you."

Tavarak chuckles, "Tis that a dwarf rain dance? well if it is, it worked I'm now sprinkled in water! My thanks for your blessing." He moves off towards the approaching goblins, and mentally prepares himself for battle ahead.

Avon first lets out a big moaning sound, "OOOwwwwwmmm. Let me sleep. Let me sleep." If this was the the life outdoors, he hated it. First blood sucking bugbears. Now waking up in the middle of the night. He shakes and hits his head and still It takes Avon a while to wake up. But as soon as he does he reaches for his backpack, slings it on his back. Then he grabs his sword and looks where the others are heading and what all the commotion is about

Quill reaches for her sheathed sword and keeps it close as she rolls to her belly.

Andrew wakes with a start as Crystal shakes him. With the news of attack Andrew quickly pulls on his leather and with a good look around begins casting.

"Mother goddess wise and true;
Darkness surrounds and we've need of you;
Danger faces us this night;
Make our foes shine with light."

After choosing the largest concentration of enemies Andrew concentrates, crushes something between his fingers and casts Faerie Fire outlining as many as possible in green light..

[GOBLINS]
The beasts' snarling screams split the night as they charge.  The first source of crossbow fire is silent this time, but another *thrumm* of crossbow comes from the general area marked (2).  The quarrel wizzes close to Kalban and then Andrew but eventually lands harmlessly on the ground beyond.

[VENERON] "Ah!" Ven yells in frustration as he stuffs the stones back into his pouch and the dagger into its sheath. Regathering his wits, Ven goes about casting the sleep spell at the only goblins he sees still active.

"Bastard scum, yea every one
you've broken my repose
so it's you who've chose
to make your stand as my foes.
Ironic though it seems
sleep now! with bad dreams."

G1, G3 and G18 fall over at the just after the round starts.

[MYRIDIAN]  begins casting her spell, watching the goblins fighting Quill, Avon, Sandros and Edge.  She wants to hit one of the ones still standing with magic missiles: G1, G3 or G18.

"Thistle, gristle, sissle-do! "

G1, G3, and G18 all go down and Myr turns to look around franticly, in mid-casting, for additional goblins.  She knows it will have to be a standing goblin as that is the thought she started with... just seconds to find a ~standing goblin~ to shoot at.

"Moldy pocket fuzz, licorice, too. "

There's one.. no.. it's dead.. that one ... entangled, no longer standing, as it's feet are off the ground..
That one.. no.. Over there... no...

"Goblins stink like a stopped up drain "

Her eyes flashing around the camp franticly.  She remembers seeing a bunch of them over near the horses. 
She looks sees a smallish shape, with her infravision.

"They'd do well with a missile in the brain!"

Hard to see with all the people and animals in between, but she thinks she sees goblin legs on the ground.. G13 must still be standing, (she hopes).

ZAP  -- ZAP
A pair of miniature spots of magical energy leave her extended fingers as she cackles with glee in her excitement..

The magic missiles, glowing white hot, flash behind Tav, over the horses, and land with a shower of sparks on the head of the G13 goblin, just after its attack on Stalwart.  The beast staggers back, stunned and dazed from the impact.

[EDGE] As G3 turns to swing at Edge, he falls over asleep, and the wolf-dog leaps at it.  He latches onto the goblins throat and begins a ripping, tearing, snarling bite.  Altho the wound is serious, the goblin is not dead, and he wakes immediately from his 5-second sleep.  He begins to struggle to get the dog off his throat, beating ineffectively at his head with fists, trying to gouge at the dog's eyes, kicking at his belly.  Edge hangs on grimly.

[STALWART] The G10 goblin, his shoulder crushed, turns and twists and rolls on the ground trying to avoid the hooves of the warhorse.  Stalwart rears again but misses the goblin.  He lowers his head, as he's been trained to do and finds the thing with his sharp teeth.  He gets lucky and the bite hits a critical artery.  G10 stops moving.

As the warhorse is attacking G10, G13 runs up on his flank, short sword raised menacingly.  He swings at the horse's head, trying to kill it quickly, but his attack finds only air, missing Stalwart as he moves by mere inches.  And then his head is *bonked* with a pair of magic missiles... Stalwart, eyes wide, backs from the beast.

[AVON] stumbles forward, using his sword tip on the ground for balance, and comes face-to-face with G18.  Avon smiles at the beast, and then aims a kick at **HER**  crotch, but effect is not what he had in mind, since (1) it is a female (2) it is the middle of the night, and the moon is partially hidden by clouds, so she does not really see his grin and (3) G18 falls asleep just as Avon's kick begins and she crumbles to the ground. 

Goblin G1, sees Avon's back, and slashes at the one leg he is stanging on (Avon's other leg being off the ground because of the groin kick) with his spiked club.  The blow lands solidly on the back of Avon's right knee with a sickening *CRACK* and Avon crumbles to the ground, terrible pain coming from his knee.  Only the fact that the G1 creature was hit by the sleep spell as the blow landed prevents extreme damage.

[SANDROS]  sees the G1 raise his club and swing at Avon, giving the former slave a open swing at its back.  The beast connects with Avon but  as he does so, Ven's spell takes hold and G1 falls to the ground -- just as Sandros begins his sword thrust with his unusual war cry: "DIE, YOU FLAMING BUTTCHUNKS!!!"

Sandros' sword finds it's mark and then some.  The sword passes all the way thru the beast's body, even as it falls to the ground.  Awakened from it's 5 second spell, the heavily muscled goblin turns it's head to look at Sandros, blood trickling from its mouth.  [OOC from DM: Just like the movies !! ]  It tries to speak or scream ... then dies.  Sandros pulls his sword from the body, wiping the blood on the matted fur of its side.

[QUILL] , clutching her bleeding thigh, sits stunned as Avon stumbles forward and engages G18 in front of her.

[DAGGDA], [ANDREW], [TAVARAK], and the [WORG]

The Worg bounds forward at Tav, who crouches behind his sheild.  Daggda and Andrew come running up on the beast's side, it does not see them. 

The beast is amazingly quick and agile for something so large.  It's fangs evade Tav's shield and bite into his shoulder painfully.  As it pulls back, Tav slashes forward and down at the lower part of the Worg's body, and Tav is gratified to see his sword comes back coated in blood.

Daggda swings the pick at the huge dog that looms overhead.  Fully extended, the pick at the end of the dwarf's arms would not reach up to the Worg's head -- but there is plenty of Worg body to aim at.  The pick just misses as the beast's body twists out of reach as it strikes at Tavarak.

Andrew comes up on Daggda's left flank, and slashes out at the Worg's hind quarters with his scimitar, but he stumbles in his haste and misses badly, falling to the ground.  The scimitar flies from his hand.  In the dim moonlight of the night, he gropes on the ground for his weapon, not finding it.  He sees, in the entangled area just to his left, the sleeping G7 goblin.  By the pale reflection of the Faerie Fire that still outlines the goblin, he sees the beast's spiked club.  Andrew reaches into the entanglement -- being the caster, he is immune to the entangling vegetation -- and grabs that weapon. The Druid staggers to his feet, unfamiliar club in his right hand, spear in his left, standing almost behind the Worg's huge hind quarters.

[KALBAN], [AAMI] 

A deep baritone bellows a challenge and another Worg bounds thru the forest toward the pair of elves.   Unbelievably, it stands slightly taller than W1, a full 7 ft at the shoulder, and is ridden by a goblin -size XXL-  wearing chain mail and brandishing a cutlass.  This fearsome sight comes from the area formerly marked (2),  and hereafter referred to as Worg 2 and Hobgoblin 1.

Aami, arrow nocked, had been looking around for targets, and finding that they are all too closely engaged with party members to risk a bow shot.  But she turns and fires twice quickly at the charging HG1/W2.  Neither arrow connects with the moving beasts.

Kalban's attention is also drawn to the new danger.  He takes a deep sigh and closes his eyes in concentration.

"Creatures vile, you are my aim
This bolt I send will bring you pain."

And so saying, he opens his eyes, and brings his hands together, extended toward the Hobgoblin mounted on the Worg.  An enormous bolt of white-blue lightening  flies from his finger tips.  It is 5 ft wide and equally thick.  It is a river of magical power that flows for several long seconds, aimed in a straight line at the charging Worg.  In a fraction of a second it strikes the Worg squarely in the chest, setting it's fur on fire and leaving a large charred area.  The beast falls to the ground heavily, and the Hobgoblin is thrown to the side, stunned, landing nearly at Sandros' side.

The round ends as the air vibrates from the mighty thunderclap caused by the lightening bolt, and everyone and everything is momentarily dazed and deafened from its intensity.  The horses -other than Stalwart- scream in panic.  Edge releases his hold on the goblin, leaps back with a yelp and cowers.

[VENERON]. The thunderclap does nothing to help Ven's headache and buzzing in his ears.   As the hobgoblin was tossed from its downed mount, Ven says to Myr at his side, "I've got the hobgoblin." He steps forward and begins his spell:

"Hobgoblin!
You stink of filthy sewage,
Your mangy fur is matted,
Vermin live and thrive upon your hide.
Your smell I simply cannot abide;
Your very presence incurs my wrath.
I do believe, my smelly friend,
You're long overdue for a nice warm bath."

And instantly a cauldron of boiling oil forms over the creature and begins to tip.

[MYRIDIAN] Hears Veneron's words very distantly and unclearly, the echo of the huge clap of thunder still ringing in her ears.  It sounds more like "Eye ott obbobb".  Oh well.  Plenty of targets floating around.  Myr, seeing that the hobgoblin and worg have plenty to keep them occupied, looks around for a good uninjured, unstuck, standing or not goblin target for another set of missiles.

"This one's for you, ugly!" she says, pointing at G3 and wriggling her rump  as if enabled by magical booty power.

"Thistle, gristle, sissle-do!
Moldy pocket fuzz, licorice, too.
All lit up like a big fire fly,
I'll put out your flame with a missile in yer eye!"

ZAP ZAP

The pair of missiles flame out from her fingers.  They zig around Veneron, zag around Sandros, zing around Quill... and finally *thud* in to Mr G3.

[QUILL] - Quill gets to her feet and steps tenderly on her injured leg. Her head is now throbbing louder than the sword in her hand due to the lightning bolt but she has enough of her senses to see that the hobgoblin may still get up and fight.  She limps toward Sandros, shouting while pointing at the sprawled goblinoid, "Sandros, get this one!"

The sword seems to have matched her biorythym and it excites her. She begins to start the chant she used in the previous battle.

"You who makes the forest green,
Let my blade stay keen..."

Sandros points behind her at G3, saying "Get that one!"  Quill turns to guard Sandros' back and sees G3 stagger to its feet.

G3 clasps a hand to his bleeding throat, relieved to have Edge off him.  He stands, seeing  Quill and Avon injured on the ground but looking the other way.  He too has heard the mighty thunderclap, seen the fire erupt on the hobgoblin.  He thinks briefly of attacking the Ranger.  What a kill-story THAT would be to tell his kin!  He screams a few words in goblin "Krussnk rammgork," which sound to those nearby like typical goblin gibberish.

He steps over Avon, thinking him incapacitated, and is blasted by Myr's magic missiles.  Staggered and wounded, he does not notice the Theif reaching for his sword.  G3 swings his club at Quill's wounded leg.  She clumsily parries his blow with her sword, and rips up with her counter-stroke.  It seems that she hits with just  a few inches of Dragon Claw's blade.  There is virtually no resistance; it feels like a sharp dagger cutting thru soup.  Quill is astonished to see that she has severed the goblin's leg, cutting thru leather armor, muscle and bone without even feeling the pressure of the cutting stroke.

G3 falls, spewing blood on Quill and Avon, but Quill barely notices as she wonders at the magic sword in her hand.

[SANDROS]  Sandros sees Quill point and hears her through partially deafened ears, saying "an--os, et is on." and point at the hobgoblin.  Her motion if not her words make sense to him and he leaps at the hobgoblin, bending over him to kill the beast with his sword.  Neither he nor the stunned hobgoblin at his feet see the cauldron over their heads.  Veneron watches, horrified, as Sandros bends forward beneath his cauldron of boiling oil.  To Ven's eyes, it is all in slow motion: Sandros swings his short sword at the hobgoblin,  the blade pierces the chain armor worn by the beast.  Sandros leans forward to push the sword home to maximum effect --- and in those few seconds, overhead the cauldron is tipping to pour boiling oil over them both.

"AAAAAIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE"  Screams the former slave as the hot oil splashes on the back of his shoulders and neck.  He leaps back quickly, out of the stream of oil and the remainder falls on the prone hobgoblin.  Sandros' short sword is still embedded in the hobgoblin's belly.

The oil splashes on the beast and on the ground nearby.  The oil continues to pour on the hobgoblin until the cauldron is empty and it puddles on the ground.  A small trail of the boiling oil trickles the few feet over toward the W2 Worg.  The fur of the Worg was set afire by Kalban's lightening bolt and when he fell, the nearby grasses caught also, and now the flame catches the oil.

** WHOOOOSH**

The flame traces the hot oil back thru the grass, and the hobgoblin ignites in an instant, emitting the third howl of pain in as many seconds.  Sandros jumps back several more feet, cursing at the painful, but minor burns on his neck and sword hand.

The hobgoblin is roasting inside his armor, franticly rolling over and over to extinguish the flames.  But the oil has penetrated into his fur, beneath the chain armor, and the fire does not go out.  His frantic efforts to put out the fire drive Sandros' blade this way and that in his gut, but he hardly notices.  In less than a minute, the creature is dead.

Finally, the slow-motion movie that Veneron has seen comes to an end.  "OhMyGod!OhMyGod!OhMyGod!" He repeats over and over, as Sandros reaches gingerly with his left hand at the hot oil burn on the back of his neck. The flames engulfing the hobgoblin leap 5 feet into the air.

[AVON] …”AAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHHH”  Avon's scream fills the battle field in the instant before the thunderclap.  His sword falls to the ground. Still trying to balance his weight on the disrupted knee, the Theif  tumbles to the ground, doubled over in pain clutching his knee... and then the earsplitting thunderclap stuns him momentarily.  He comes to, shaking his head and looking around.  He sees G18 asleep almost at his side, and watches with horror as Sandros attacks the Hobgoblin, even as a cauldron of boiling oil forms over their heads.  He forms the words to warn him, but... too late.  Avon's knuckles turn white on the handle of his sword, as he sees the boiling oil pour over Sandros.

Avon's mind flashes back to the Flying Fish Inn.  He is sitting around the table, near the fire, drinking ale.  The words are clear in his memory, tho he doesn't remember who said them, "We'll just walk down to the caves and rescue this Dwarf Prince."  A little walk!  Sounded like a picnic with a good looking tavern wench.  HAH!  The throb in his knee made him wonder if he would ever be able to walk again.

[EDGE] backs away, frightened.  He thinks that somehow, the creature he was fighting made the deafening noise.

[STALWART] skitters sideways at the loud sound, and the wounded G13 goblin spasms from the surprise of the overwhelming clap of thunder.  G13 backs accidentelly against Myr's horse (H1), which screams in even greater panic.  The frightened horse pulls desperately at the lead attaching it to the picket.

[AAMI]  follows the hobgoblin to the ground, arrow still nocked, but pauses as Sandros step in to engage it in melee.  Calmly, she watches as Sandros is burned by the spell and the hobgoblin ignites.  No time for regret now, she thinks, regret is something survivors can feel.  Her eyes flit around the conflict, looking for a target.  She dare not fire at G3 for fear of hitting Quill or Sandros.  Shooting into the entangled area seems pointless.  She turns away from the burning HG and W2 peering out into the darkness, looking for more attackers.  "Crystal?" says the elven archer.

[CRYSTAL] "Nothing, mother." replies the girl.  She is standing with her back to the campfire, looking into the darkness behind everyone's back.  Myr gives the young half-elf a reappraising look from the corner of her eye.  "How can she just ~ignore~ everything that's going on?"  wonders the older mage.  She does not see the girl's fingernails digging into the palms of her hands as she watches for danger from behind.

[DAGGDA], [ANDREW], [TAVARAK], and the [WORG]

Andrew drops the goblin's club and moves around to the side of the beast, stepping carefully over goblins felled by someone's sleep spell.  Holding it in both hands, he thrusts his spear into the creature's side.  It hits bone and Andrew struggles briefly before being able to pull it out, ready to strike again.

Daggda spits out a curse at the agility of the giant wolf: a few words, spoken in Dwarvish and dark in meaning. The dwarf hears Avon's blood-curdling screams to the rear followed immediately by the thunderclap.  The cleric, also, is deafened for a second or two but recovers quickly -- thanks to generations of life underground where concentrated noises and pressure have genetically created a slightly different hearing structure [OOC: and a lucky saving throw] -- and then Sandros' scream of pain, followed by the war cry of G3.  Daggda makes a mental note before swinging at the wolf again. The broad blade of the footman's pick whistles through the air,determined to carve a tunnel through the black heart of the vicious wolf.

This time the Daggda connects, and the sharp metal spike tears a great slice from the Worg's foreleg, distracting it from its attack on Tav.  The huge dog turns and snaps at the dwarven warrior, sinking its enormous teeth into the shoulder of the Acolyte.  Daggda grimaces and punches sideways at the beast's head to get it off, but the Worg's grip is solid and he shakes the little dwarf into the air with a mighty toss of its head.

Tavarak's blood is up, and the adrenaline pumping thru him helps fight off the pain spreading from his shoulder. So focused on the Worg is he that he barely notices the deafness caused by the noise of the thunder.  He concentrates on his breathing and maintaining his battle sense. Tav steps to the side and takes a swing at the Worg's neck chanting over and over again -- the words are from a combat song he learned long ago -- with a grim inner smile, he decides to omit the accompanying dance at this time:

"You bit me once you dirty beast
And on your corpse maggots will feast
But now its time for you to bleed
So you'll never spread your demon seed
With this sword I'll hack and slash
And draw across your throat a nasty gash.
Then after all is said and done
Tis I who can say I've really won."

He comes up from his crouch as the beast turns to bite Daggda.  His sword slices deeply into the exposed neck of the 6 ft tall dog-beast, and a strong spurt of red tells him that he has hurt it badly, but the beast shakes its head, sending Daggda rattling back and forth like a rag doll.

[KALBAN]  exhales a long slow breath.  Only he was not surprised by the noise created by his lightening bolt.  He turns and looks over toward where Daggda, Andrew and Tavarak  are fighting the enormous W1 Worg.  He pauses a few seconds to think, then inhales, closes his eyes in concentration and then chants once more:

"Creature made of bone and gristle,
Feel this now, my magic missle."

ZAP - ZAP - ZAP - ZAP

Four bursts of magical power leap from his fingertips and fly across the clearing, dodging between Andrew and Daggda, thudding into the side of W1.

The Worg is dead, and it falls to the ground between Andrew and Tavarak, knocked over by  the impact of the magic missiles.  Its death spasm coincides with the toss of its large head, as it was trying to shake Daggda into pieces, and the dwarf is tossed into the air, coming down several feet away.  Amazingly, the tough dwarf still has the pick in  hand, and staggers to stand slowly, blood oozing from the mauled shoulder.  "Thank the Forger for the strength of this chain mail.  I think it's the only thing that kept that thing from eating my shoulder."  Between the torn shoulder and the impact at being tossed, Daggda knows this is a major injury... but there is the smell of wounded goblin nearby, and the  dwarf turns slowly to see goblin G13, bleeding from its head, and trying to dodge from beneath Myr's horse, H1.

"I can bleed later," growls the dwarf softly with a dire grimace, "but I can kill goblins NOW." 

G13 sees the dwarf, a racial enemy of generations long past remembering, hated beyond description.  He spits out a few words of heavily-accented Dwarvish, the worst curse he can imagine, "Bastard spawn of  Gulak's goat!"  [OOC note: Gulak = Goblin diety.]  The goblin raises it's spiked club, circling warily counter-clockwise toward the stream.

[TAVARAK] sees the bleeding dwarf advance, and is most impressed with the stamina of the newest compainon. He moves to the opposite side of Daggda in an attempt to cut off any escape route then closes quickly and feints with an overhand slash, reversing to a lunge for the goblins chest.

[DAGGDA]
Daggda will not poison dwarven lips with foul goblin gibberish. With black eyes glittering, the dwarf sets in to swing the pick squarely into the stinking hunk of walking meat, putting the muscle behind the swing from the dwarf's unmauled arm. Daggda does not see Andrew approaching to help, normindful of the blood gushing from one shoulder.

"That spell created helpful fire,
but our position has become dire.
Taking no more the time to think,
I'll give the land a quenching drink."