The smell of burnt wood filled the afternoon air all around them. After the long night, it wasn’t hard for most to sleep through the day, even with the sound of cleanup work happening all around them. It was Tanthalas who was awake first, his pack shaking and rocking, back and forth. Unsure what could be happening, the elf dumped the contents of his pack out on the hard ground. Amongst his things was a decent-sized rock that he had received months ago, a memento, nothing more, or so he had thought. The rock was now shaking and jiggling, all in all being very unlike a rock. A loud cracking sound filled the room as the stone split and a small golden head pushed its way through. The baby dragon’s jaw stretched and a tiny red tongue flicked out, tasting the air around itself.

Tanthalas knelt on the ground and bent down closer to the little creature who regarded the elf with curiosity. The small reptilian head cocked to one side, its draconic eyes darting around as the newborn took in this figure before it. Leaping forward, it threw itself into the ranger’s arms and the elf sat back, cradling the little thing. Well, this would certainly be something to have to explain to the others!

When Al and the others awoke, there was a lot of commotion as everyone was introduced to the new addition to the group. Al looked upon the little dragon, thinking of the challenges he had sometimes faced as someone who was so different from the others around him. He greeted the little one in its native tongue, wishing it a good life, and good luck.

Later in the afternoon, Echo and the druids arrived from the forest, having spent their time in more natural surroundings for their rest. Their faces were serious, as if they had just had to make a very difficult decision. Their leader, who had introduced himself as Silverbark Thunderstone the night before, seemed to have gathered some strength back after the previous night’s ordeal. The elf slightly bowed his head in greeting, his arms wide and palms up.

“Thank you all” he began, a voice as calm as a summer breeze. “Echo tells me that we owe you our lives and probably much more. It was our own hubris that led us to think we could deal with that thing on our own. We thought we knew the evil we faced, but we were so very, very, wrong.”

The druid trailed off for a moment, eyes losing focus as he lost himself in thought.

“We have little to offer in way of thanks, but I do have this to offer as a gift,” the druid continued, taking a necklace from around his neck. It seemed very simple, natural, and handcrafted, featuring several eagle feathers hanging as pendants. “I received this as a gift from the tribal folk of the eastern forests and it can help you with some minor magical healing and recovery. I have a feeling you will need this more than us.”

“Thank you, Silverbark, this is a wonderful gesture” responded Brylla, gently accepting the offering from the druid. “I don’t suppose you know anything more about that stranger that was at the ruins last night?”

“Very little, I’m afraid, which bothers me” replied Silverbark, with a tinge of annoyance. “Echo tells us that she knew him as a merchant in the area who would often visit Greenfell and attempt to sell various simple wares, but he seemed to be no more important than any other trader. I am not sure I entirely trust this “Ge’off”, there is something not quite right and I am certain he is not telling us the whole truth. My brothers and I have decided to travel to the library at the Temple of Sif to see what we can uncover. I will send you word if we learn anything that might help you, I fear it may not be an easy task.”

The other druids with Silverbark waved goodbye and followed their leader towards the edge of town, where they paused. They each lowered their heads for a moment, their hoods covering their faces as they focused on something. The druids bodies warped and stretched as they shifted into a form more suited for travel, two of them becoming regal stallions while their leader rose to the sky on the wings of an eagle. They were out of sight within moments.

Not all the druids were leaving with their leader, however. Echo had decided she was travelling to Denn to force the Council of Nine’s hand into doing something. Georj, much to his disappointment, had been tasked with escorting the junior member of their circle.

“If you find any of those heroes Ge’off was talking about, send them my way in Denn.” offered Echo, ever practical. “I think we’ll need all the help we can get to fight these things.”

Not one for long goodbyes, Echo offered a quick farewell to the party but paused with Flynver, placing a small hand upon the wizard’s shoulder.

“Take care of yourself, try not to end up dead, huh?” she said, a smile on her face. Echo was not often around her own kind and had enjoyed having somebody around that didn’t make her feel so small.

With that goodbye, Georj and Echo headed for the main trail to grab a transport to Denn. Soon, it would be time for the rest of them to head out on the road as well. Over the course of the hours, they had made the final decision to return to the Spine Mountains with Audak. Audak’s tribe deserved to have their totem returned to them, even if it would be a long trip north from Greenfell. They all gathered up their rolls and packs and started crossing through the ruined remains of Greenfell.

The fire was now out, but the burned out husks of the buildings still stood as reminders to all those around of the horror of the night before. In one building, they found Gnasir overseeing his three children. The gnoll family was working hard trying to repair and restore the structure. It seemed like a pointless task, but the farmer insisted that his children needed to learn a lesson for what they had done. Perhaps the next time, they would react differently? The father had made his choice, even if it seemed like wasted efforts. Greenfell was gone and might never come back. The ruins would be a reminder of what had happened here.

The road north was well-worn, though once they passed the turn-off to the Temple of Sif there were far fewer travellers on the trails. Several horse-less carriages and wagons had passed them earlier in the day, when there were still villages for people to travel between, but this far north only a few brave souls trudged along on foot or by horseback. There were a few farm houses, usually hours apart from each other, with nothing but fields between. As they trekked north, the Spine Mountains loomed above them to the east, their peaks capped with snow that seemed so at odds with the humidity of the day.

When night finally approached, Flynver was glad to settle in for a meal and some sleep. The goliath kept the pace quite quick and Flynver’s small legs had to work hard to keep up. Most of the others seemed accustomed to such rough marches, but the wizard had not spent all those years in a wizarding school because he wanted to lift weights or run track races. Things ached that he didn’t know could ache! That night’s sleep was one brought on by exhaustion.

Climbing the Spine Mountains

The morning rain gave some cool relief from the heavy humidity of the air as they continued north, finding fewer and fewer farms and cabins along their route. This part of Lani had not seen as much development for agriculture or livestock farms. The further they travelled through these fields, the more the air shifted to being crisper, and a little colder, as the air from the mountains descended upon them. After a few hours, they found themselves at a traveller’s way station. The small shack allowed those in need to get out of the elements for a few minutes and rest, have a meal, and start a fire safely. The place was empty, though signs of recent use were apparent in the fireplace. They were close now to the base of the mountain passes where the climb would really begin in earnest.

Flynver munched on a chunk of bread, looking out the lone window at the path before them. The mountains reared up, steep guardians rising up to the clouds above. The halfling stroked his gray beard, wondering how high the snow drifts would be this time of year. Perhaps Audak would carry him? Next time, he was bringing a pony.

For Audak and the dwarves, the sight of the snow-capped peaks filled their hearts with memories of home. Thegman’s thoughts along their journey were filled with both anxiety and anticipation of a return to Nidavellir. Seeing his family would bring him great joy, but the news he had to share with his father would not be a conversation that he was looking forward to.

With their hoods up, and coats pulled tightly closed, the crew made their way from the fields into the rocky paths through the mountains. The humidity of the fields below gave way to crisp, cool, air. The Haust weather was still warm here, for the mountains, but the wind held a chill that had not been felt as strongly in the plains below. The heavier parkas they had packed would be needed soon.

A few hours in, they reached the fork where Thegman would need to say goodbye. They had only known each other since Idunsdag, but they had been through a lot in those five days, more binding than most events of a lifetime in Lani. However, his duty to his family was stronger than any other bond he could have forged.

“I’ll find ya all again, I’m sure” promised the dwarf. “I’ll just have to follow the trail of destruction!”

The warrior laughed and clasped arms with Brylla and wished her well in dwarven, giving a nod to the others as he turned his boots towards the halls of his people. The others waved as they watched the 5th son of the dwarven king make his way home.

“We’re getting closer now” said Audak, pointing up the path. “Maybe a days travel through the pass, if we take the easy roads.”

Tanthalas grumbled under his breath about the weather. For an elf that had spent over a century in the beautiful woods near Eldravire, this mountain path was about as welcoming as a high elf dinner invitation. The gruff ranger didn’t enjoy complaining about such things, but hoped their travel through these parts would be swift. The sun was starting to lower and soon they would need to find a place to stop for the night.

As evening approached, Tanthalas noticed a thin trail of smoke rising into the air ahead of them. Quietly calling the others to silence, the elf lay a hand on Audak’s shoulder and pointed. Audak nodded in acknowledgement, his hand moving towards the hilt of his axe in preparation. Brylla looked around them, trying to see if there was a place to get some cover, but gasped as she recognized her surroundings.

“I know this place, Audak” she said, whispering with a hint of worry. “I’ve been here.”

Audak looked around at the trail, recognizing the paths he had taken many times, but then it hit him why Brylla was remembering it so clearly, and why she seemed so worried.

“This is where we were attacked!” he said, remembering the winter wolves charging at him. “It felt so real, just like I remembered this place.”

The memory came flooding back to Brylla clearly. The smell of the air, the feel of the crunching rocks beneath her boots. She half-expected to hear the howls of those predators. The presence of a campfire ahead did not necessarily fill her with hope, as it should have. However, Flynver’s ever-present optimism and energy quickly made the decision for them as he rushed forward to greet whomever might be there.

The halfling came upon a small encampment of tents and bedrolls circled around a campfire. A wagon, still hitched to an ox, was being tended to by a large man whose legs and arms looked like tree trunks. Around the fire were three other figures, all dressed in tribal clothes similar to Audak’s, warming their hands.

“Hello and good evening!” piped up the wizard, striding forward confidently to greet them. “Mind if we join you?”

The four figures suddenly turned, surprised at the sudden appearance of this group on the trail. Though armed, none moved to raise a weapon to defend themselves and instead waved them over. As Audak’s form came into view, their faces shifted into one of joy.

“Audak, you have returned!” shouted the small elf by the fire, as the group rose to their feet to greet their tribesman. Closer now, Audak was able to recognize the faces of his fellow Bear tribe companions. The large one was Kayono, a hunter, and the elf was Villir, one of the few who knew how to fire a bow well. The two others were the Stonedigger dwarves, a brother and sister who rarely left each other’s side but seemed to constantly bicker and tease each other.

“What brings you so far from home, friends?” inquired Audak, curious to find his people out here a full day’s travel from the tribe.

As the group sat down by the fire, Kayono explained that they had been sent to track down a group from the Wolf Clan that had attacked the camp the night before. The attackers had come in the night and then fled on foot. Their group had traced the tracks as far as this point but could not find any sign of them continuing. The track seemed to have gone cold.

“But what of you, Audak?” asked Kayla, one of the Stonediggers. “We haven’t seen you in almost a ten-day!”

Audak recounted to his fellow barbarians a brief version of the last few days and their encounters with the strange creatures of shadow. When the goliath pulled out the Bear totem and showed the others, their faces filled with joy.

“We must take you back, first thing in the morning” stated Kayono. “Ergthok will be so happy to see you, and the totem, returned safely!”

“I would like that” Audak said, with a smile in his voice, if not on his face. “But you must tell me more of this attack. Why would the Wolf clan do such a thing?”

The hunters could offer no answer. Ian, one of the dwarves, relayed that there had been some accusations of stolen sheep a few days prior, but then suddenly there was a small group that attacked in the night, killing a few and wounding others. As far as they were concerned, there was no feud with Wolf clan, and there seemed no reason for such sudden hostilities.

Tanthalas and Brylla were happy for their companion to be reunited with his tribe folk, but the talk of the Wolf clan attack was bothering both of them. The ranger began to scout about the area, looking for signs of the ones that Kayono and the others had been tracking. It didn’t take long for the expert tracker to find the tracks in the snow, perhaps three or four sets, but the trail suddenly ended. Reading the tracks, the Wolf clan had approached a large rock wall covered in ice and then had congregated in a tight circle. And then…nothing. It was as if they disappeared. Only the tracks of the hunter’s group, and their own, traced about the area.

Brylla tested the surface of the rock wall, looking for a sign of entry or perhaps a mechanism, but as far as she could tell it was simply a stone wall, covered in ice and snow. There were no trap doors under the snow, no signs of a fabrication or even the marks of something moving. Somehow, they had simply gone. Flynver tried to muse about possible magical ways to accomplish such a thing, and there were several, but the wizard wasn’t sure what they could do about it even if they did figure it out. For now, it was a mystery.

The prodigal son returns

The night around the fire was a welcome one after a few days on the road. When morning eventually came and it was time to travel again, the conversation with the hunters allowed for Audak’s companions to learn more about the tribe and this region of the Spine Mountains as they made their way through the snow-covered trails. It was late afternoon, nearly sunset when they finally saw the light of torches and campfires ahead. Tanthalas could tell they were nearing their destination by the excitement in Audak’s voice and his increased pace. It was clear he was eager to be home.

When they crossed through onto the wide plain of tundra that led to the tribe, Audak’s face shifted to one of surprise. This was not the place he had left only a few days ago. The goliath was stunned by the hastily constructed barriers that stood between them and the Bear tribe’s home. The makeshift wall before them was actively manned by several Bear clansmen armed with primitive-looking bows, all of which were currently trained upon them. Kayono raised his arms in greeting, a gesture that also doubled in meaning as he could show he was not actively armed and came in peace. Recognizing the returning hunting party, and also the huge form of Audak in their wake, the stern and serious faces armed with bows changed to smiles and cheers as the guards rushed down to greet them.

“Audak has returned!” shouted an elf, still standing atop the wall and facing back into the tribal home. “AUDAK RETURNS!”

As the tribe members came out to greet them all and escort them in, Brylla noticed that the defensive structures were hastily built, and not well. Whomever did this tried their best on short notice, but it would not hold much under a real threat. What could have caused the tribe to build something so carelessly and quickly? What rushed the work?

There was no chance for an answer at this time, for as they neared the gates Audak held aloft the tribe’s totem, eliciting even more cheers from those around them. A young man, likely around Audak’s age, came running up and Audak’s arms opened wide to hug his friend Thorin.

“You did it!” shouted the excited young man. “Where was it? How did you do it? Did you make them feel the sting of your blade? Wait, we need to get you to Ergthok right away. He will want to see you, and the totem!”

The young man seemed full of questions and excitement and was genuinely overjoyed at the safe return of his friend. Audak couldn’t help but smile as he did his best to answer Thorin’s barrage of questions. He laughed as his friend filled him in on some of the more mundane things that had happened, but his mood shifted as they began to talk about why the defenses were necessary.

Tanthalas and the others spread out through the camp, meeting and chatting with many of Audak’s tribe members and learned of the attack from the night before. According to several accounts, members of the Wolf clan had come in the dead of night and killed several members of the tribe in a brutal attack. It had been a small group, but they had attacked quickly and then escaped into the night. A small kobold named Lorkay told of how five of his own family had been murdered in their sleep. The kobold was clearly agitated and seemed to be looking forward to a chance to dispense some justice should the Wolf clan return.

Around the campfires, the tale was much the same. It began with members of the Wolf tribe arriving to accuse Ergthok and his people of stealing sheep. Of course, Bear clan denied this, and the Wolf tribe left, unconvinced. In the night, around four or five figures snuck into the camp dressed as those from the Wolf tribe. Audak’s father, Vogath, even recognized one of the Wolf clan members. The healer guided them to the injured who had survived the attack and showed them the wounds.

“These don’t look like the marks of a crude weapon, like the kind the Wolf clan use.” the old medicine woman stated, gesturing towards a blade wound in someone’s thigh. “This is cut clean, from something very sharp. Something is not right.”

Similar oddities were noticed by others. Strange words being used, or odd movements. None could deny the faces they saw or the clothes they wore, but all agreed it was very strange behaviour for Wolf to act like this.

If this were to continue, though, it was clear that Bear tribe was not ready for a proper fight. Their defenses were weak, the weapons they had were simple and poorly made, and while they had the hearts of warriors and were stronger than most, the tribe members were not trained in any sort of martial combat. Some of the members of the tribe who had a bit more experience handling hunting bows or staves were doing their best to prepare the others, but they needed help.

Brylla met with a friendly giant named Munir who was the clan’s smithy. He was a skilled metal worker, but his wares were pots and pans and cups, not weaponry. The dwarf’s expertise in this area would help him immensely with the work needed over the coming hours, but they had so little time to craft enough for all. Brylla rolled up her sleeves; it was going to be a long night.

Flynver, meanwhile, decided to chat up a large ettin that was hanging around nearby, working on storage boxes and equipment. The two-headed figure towered over the halfling, but seemed welcoming enough. Usk, the more excitable of the two, was itching to get a chance to take on the Wolf clan. Walton, the more serious one, apologized for his brother and explained that they had done what they could for the defenses and hoped it would be enough to keep some safe. Flynver was certain he and his magic could help the brothers with this task, and he promised he would return soon to help fortify the walls.

The son of Vogath

While the others investigated what happened and helped where they could, Audak followed Thorin past the campfires and tents towards the rear of the camp. There, sitting around a campfire, were several goliaths and an older-looking woman. Audak did not need to see their faces to know who these figures were. The older barbarian with the hunched back wore the chief’s headdress. Clearly his grandfather, Ergthok. The giant of a man next to Ergthok had lifted Audak in his arms for so many years that Audak would have recognized the back of his father’s head from the shoulders alone. Vogath stood to greet his son with arms wide and a huge smile. Rising next to his father and turning to greet them was a woman who had been like a mother to him. Her kind face beamed proudly as she pulled Audak into a hug. His aunt Dogmora was a fierce warrior, and her strong arms threatened to crack the young barbarian’s back!

“It is so good to have you back, Audak, we have missed you!” said the older woman who sat by the fire. Olga was grandfather’s advisor, a wise woman who was both patient and calculating. Audak had never really warmed to Olga, as she always seemed to keep a distance from everyone, but there was no denying that she loved the Bear tribe and would give anything for it.

“I did not come back empty handed, elder.” Audak replied, smiling. He proudly produced the totem that they had received from Ge’off. “As promised, the Bear totem is returned!”

His father slapped him on the back, congratulating him on his bravery. “That is the son I raised! Let’s see the Wolf tribe come for us now!”

That statement turned the conversation to the more serious matters at hand, discussing the events of the past few days and the tone in the camp. As chief, his grandfather was needing to make some serious decisions and ready the tribe for a possible attack. Nobody seemed to have clear details on why they felt another attack would come, but many in the tribe seemed excited for the opportunity to show their strength in battle, even if they had little training for it.

“Let us not worry about the Wolf tribe for a moment” suggested Olga, reining in the conversation. “We should be celebrating! Come, let us gather the people and show them what you have done.”

While the tribe held many folk, the camp was small enough for them to spread the news of a gathering quickly enough. Voices murmured as they excitedly waited for the ritual to begin. Above the crowd in the center of the camp, Ergthok and Olga stood on a raised platform with Audak before them. The young man could sense that this was an important moment and stood proudly, determined to earn his father and grandfather’s approval.

“Most of you have already heard the news by now” began the chieftain, Ergthok, speaking to his people in a loud and booming voice. “My grandson has returned as a hero to our tribe. Behold: our totem is returned!”

A cheer went up across the crowd as Audak held the symbol up towards the sky, the fire of the evening torches lighting it with a flickering orange glow. Olga stepped forward, a special necklace in her hands, and she reached up with some difficulty to place the necklace around his neck.

“You have been marked a hero of the tribes, Audak” stated Olga, solemnly. “Wear this to honour our ancestors, child.”

The beadwork of the necklace echoed the many hours of work that had gone into this by members of the community to create a beautiful piece. This was one of the highest honours that could be bestowed amongst one of the Bear tribe and Audak did not take it likely. He bowed with great respect to his elders as the short ceremony came to a close.

After the ceremony, Vogath led his son back home, his aunt joining them for the walk.

“It is good to have you back, son” Vogath said, as they walked over to the nearby hut. “Not only for all you have done, and because Dogmora and I missed you, but because your blade will raise the spirits of those here. If the Wolf tribe makes another attack, as we believe they will, we will fight together and show them the strength of the Bear!”

After having disappeared for a moment, Dogmora returned, carrying a small box. Audak had seen this box sitting in their home since he was a little child. His aunt held it out to him, gesturing for him to open it. Within he found two carefully crafted bracers, ancient based on the design, yet somehow showing no wear or damage from the years.

“This has been passed down in the family for generations” she said, closing the now-empty box. “Perhaps one day you can pass them on as well, but I hope they will help keep you safe and always able to come back to us.”

Dogmora was not one for grand displays of emotion, but she tearfully hugged her nephew in that moment. She knew that if the Wolf came, Audak would face them with bravery and would not back down, would not retreat. It was possibly the most terrifying thing for the old warrior to face.

Vogath leaned in, conspiratorially. “I think some of the clan could use a show tonight, don’t you think? I know just the one to help.”

His father led him to a nearby hut where a large minotaur was chopping potatoes. Audak had known Bleg, the best chef this side of the Spine Mountains, since he was a kid. He had eaten many of the minotaur’s best dishes, including a roasted deer dish with garlic that had been one of his favourites. Why was his father bringing him here?

“Hey kid, looking for a bite?” offered Bleg, gesturing towards some of the unpeeled potatoes. “I could use a hand.”

Vogath interrupted his old friend. “Perhaps later, chef. I think what we need is something a little more athletic. To work up an appetite?”

The minotaur put down the knife and gave Audak’s father a long look. “I’m getting too old for this, you know that, right?” He laughed it off, though, heading towards the back of his hut. Against the wall stood an ornate greataxe, finely crafted and clearly meant for battle. Audak had always wondered what a chef needed with that. Out of a storage box Bleg took out a pair of training staves, padded on each end. With a flick that he made look too easy, Bleg tossed the stave Audak’s way, who caught it with one hand.

“I’ll try to go easy on you, eh?” laughed the chef, easily twirling the stave in his large hands. Audak only gave a little smile in response. The minotaur had perhaps forgotten he was not a little child anymore.

The two walked to a nearby training ground in camp where some of the clan were already practicing. Murmurs of what was about to happen had already spread around; that the returning hero had challenged Bleg to one-on-one combat. While most of the clan had heard rumours about the minotaur’s past, none of them had ever seen him lift a weapon bigger than a chopping knife. A crowd began to gather to see the show. Flynver and some of the others joined to watch as well, wondering why Vogath had decided on this approach. Audak knew well what his father was thinking. Soon, the others might be in a life or death situation and few of them had ever faced combat. Audak had been in the heat of combat, had trained, had honed a few skills. He might not be a seasoned warrior yet, but even his young experience would be valuable to inspire the others and also teach them a few things. Anything could help in what lay ahead.

Bleg tapped his staff twice to his chest and immediately took a defensive pose, inviting Audak to begin. The young warrior’s face could not have smiled more as he charged forward at the chef. His attacks were not wild, but they had a ferocity to them as he swung high, then low, spinning in a blur of motion. The minotaur’s staff seemed to sing as the cook countered each swing in rapid motion, his staff always seeming to just block Audak’s attack at the last moment. Audak was putting on a master class, but somehow the minotaur seemed to be able to match him easily and it seemed as if he was even holding back.

When Audak paused for a moment in his barrage to showcase a more defensive position, it became the minotaur’s turn as Bleg’s staff swung low, aiming for the young barbarian’s feet. Audak easiliy leaped over the attack but then realized the mistake as Bleg reversed the swing upwards towards his face. Audak barely managed to get his staff up in time to parry the blow, but he managed to keep his balance and counter with a strike towards his opponent’s chest. Bleg snorted as the staff nearly touched him. Cheers were going up from the audience all around them as they watched in earnest. The dance went back and forth for several minutes, each of them managing to land a few glancing blows, but no clear winner. Eventually, Bleg held out a hand to call for a stop.

“Well done, kiddo, you’ve been practicing” rumbled the low voice of the chef. “Let’s see what we can show these others, huh?”

With that, Audak and Bleg called down the others and told them to grab a weapon of some kind. They spent several hours with the inspired group showing them basic stances and swings, trying to get as many of the clan to be ready should the need arise for a one-to-one battle. It would have taken weeks to make a proper combat-ready squad out of them, but their heart and desire to defend their homes and loved ones would have to make up for whatever they lacked in training.

When the moon was high, they decided to rest for the evening. Audak slung an arm over his friend Thorin’s shoulder, walking with him back to the camp fires. It was time for tall tales, loud laughs, and catching up. Audak had quite the story to tell Thorin of how they retrieved the totem, one that might be hard for his friend to believe.

Unwanted visitors

With the revelry and training done for the day, Tanthalas stood upon the raised platform by the gates, peering out into the darkness. The others slept soundly while the elf kept company with those assigned to the first watch of the night. The ranger wondered why the tribe was so certain another attack would take place. Was that customary? Had they gathered information they had not shared? Or was it simply eagerness to strike back? If so, why not take it to the Wolf clan’s door in retaliation?

As the night grew long, the elf began to suspect an attack that night would not happen. The others around him seemed jumpy but Tanthalas did not sense any sounds on the night air that would have indicated anyone approaching. There was no smoke from torches or small lights glowing in the night, just the moonlight upon the tundra before them.

Saying goodnight to those at the gates, the elf retired for a few hours to get some rest. It would do the others no good if the elf was not at his peak performance. When morning came, Tanthalas slipped past the breakfasting tribe members gathered at their campfires to retake his position. Expecting yet another long wait with not much to report, the elf got comfortable and chatted with some of the others. A noise, like a low rumble, caught his attention.

Several hundred meters away, at the edge of the forest on the far side of the fields, came a chorus of yells. Streaming out of the woods were hundreds of men, women, and others, all bearing simple clubs and crude weapons. The man next to Tanthalas recognized their war paint immediately.

“It is the Wolf clan!” he shouted, panicking. “Did they all come? There are so many!”

Tanthalas wasted no time and turned to raise the alarm. His shouts echoed across the camp as everyone scrambled to ready themselves. Turning his eyes back on the approaching horde, the elf focused on the leading line and drew back his bow. It was time for battle.

Credits

• Writing credit: Inspiration taken from session notes by Matthew Moran.
• Cover image: “A tribal camp”, generated by Jason St-Cyr using NightCafe
• Necklace “Bear Tribe Hero’s Necklace”, generated by Jason St-Cyr using NightCafe