Torner's poor horse is once again trotted off at a steady pace.

~ Just when I thought I was gonna get a bag of oats and bale of hay. So close. So close. But no, no. It's, 'Off we ride brave Stormwind. We must save the village near Lake Deepbottom.'~ ( Snort )

Torner gave a good deal of thought to the events he had seen so far. Orcs with Dwarven Ale, signs of large encampments northwest of civilization, gnorcs in the town of Bottomburn, and spears made from the sacred Emerald wood. Portents of ill for sure. He was torn between duties. Bottomburn or the village of Deepbottom? Well, he reasoned, Bottomburn has their own guard but the farmers near the lake had no one. Except him of course. Now that the decision was made, he sighed with relief and spurred his mount onward.

After a day and a half of hard riding, Torner reached the village. The sight that greeted his eyes was not pleasant. The village had been ransacked. Several houses and building had been burned to the ground. Doors and windows were smashed on many of the others. Wagons lay overturned on the unpaved streets. Yet people were seen about the village, working to haul the debris away. Farmers were accustomed to hardships; they took this setback with stoic grace. Torner knew a few of the inhabitants from previous rides through the village. He headed towards the Barley Mow Inn & Tavern; the only one of its kind in the small village.

As he rode through, he noticed a fair number of the elven people amongst the human farmers. Many were bandaged and limping. He tied Stormwind to a hitching post and wandered inside the doorless inn.

~ Neigh! ~

Stormwind was tied just shy of the watering trough. His parched, dust covered lips reached just inches short of the cool water.

~ That %#@*&*%# ex-paladin! He's done it again! ~

Stormwind pulled hard against the reins to no avail. Fortunately, a little girl saw the big grey's dilemma and retied the reins so he could reach the water.

~ Whinny, whinny, fair child! ~

"Torner! You're here!"

A young maiden wiped the dirt from her face and attempted to straighten her torn dress; one wrist was bandaged tightly. She ran to Torner and threw her arms around his neck.

"Oh Torner, it's been so horrible."
"Babette, what happened?"

Torner glanced around the room. It seemed the old inn and tavern was being used as a mess hall for the village. Tables had been lined- up down one wall with kettles and pots. Kresler and his wife ladled out bowls of stew for human and elf alike. No one in the place was free from wounds.

"Two days ago a huge bunch of gnorcs..."
"An army."
"Huh?"
"A huge bunch of gnorcs is an army."
"Oh. Right. Anyway, this bun...this army came down from the east,"

Babette pointed north,

"and ran right through the village, pillaging and raping just like they do in the stories."

She sighed and flopped down unlady-like in a wobbly chair.

"Then yesterday, the elves came by the armies..."
"They what?"
"Came by the bunches."

Torner sighed and patted her hand.

"Go on, dear." He said.
"Well, they came into the village. All tattered and torn. They had been battling trolls in the forest."

Babette looked up at Torner with a light in her eyes (but none in her pretty head).

"But you're here now. You'll help us won't you?"
"Of course, my dear. I wouldn't disappoint you."

Now if Torner could just figure out how to help he would.

"Torner?"

Torner turned around to see an old familiar face. A very tired elf shook his head and smiled wryly at the human fighter.

"Thought that was your old grey outside. It's been a long time, my friend."
"Elyandon. By V.E.'s curly-toed boots! What happened?"

Torner patted the fellow fighter on the back.

"Have a seat, tell me what's going on."
"The quick story or the blow by blow story?"
"Hmmm, under the circumstances, the quick story."
"Well, basically, we were attacked, en masse, by hordes of trolls."
"An army."
"What?"
"Never mind. Continue."
"They came just as we were loading the vats of wine for Tipplefestmas. While we fought the trolls, a group of brigands rounded up the vats and took off. One of the men left us with a message from someone named 'M', their commander I suppose; the message demanded that all of our children be sent north with the trolls to work in the mines. We refused of course. That's when the troll reserves came in and nearly wiped us out. We ran for our lives and came here."

Elyandon sank back in his chair.

"However, it seems this 'M' has sent his cronies here too. We've word that the gnorcs that pillaged the village is laying an ambush for a group of adventurers from Bottomburn."
"How'd you find that out?"
"Vet ha vas of maykink pris-ners talk.," Elyandon said in a strange voice.

He smiled wickedly.

"We captured several of the brigands. Want to have a chat with them?"