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Armaros and the last gnoll dance around each others blows in a brief and deadly dervish. The gnoll smacks aside Armaros' attempted thrust and leans in snapping at his face with a snout full of bent teeth. Armaros leaps backwards bringing his knee up and into his opponents elongated chin. He lands poised to strike and quickly rams his arm blade upwards into it's neck with a sharp impact as it enters the skull and connects with the top.

Almost as if it's been offered a spitted treat the grey monster lurches forward and snatches the gnoll off of Armaros' blade with it's jaws, crunching once before letting the battered corpse roll lazily from it's maw. It's long powerful limbs sweep Armaros up off of the ground. Their impact sends his head reeling and he barely feels the long black claws sinking deep into his chest as it pulls him toward it's blood filled mouth. Armaros takes 15 damage, that's a total of twenty so far...

With the last of the gnolls felled the beast is beset on all sides by fierce attacks. Two pulsing globules of energy fly from the western treeline and collide with the monsters back with audible force. An arrow whistles from the halfling's bow as it buries itself completely into the creatures armpit. Four dwarves charge the beast with weapons held high. One is swatted aside by a powerful claws as the beast drops the wounded Armaros to defend itself. The unearthly golden hound darts around to the monsters back, seeming to leave a luminescent trail as it moves with graceful bounds. It leaps onto the beasts back with the tenacity of a lion its ivory teeth closing like a vice into the monsters backbone. The black bearded Bardel charges and buries his long axe in a thick muscled knee and holds it there. The dwarf by his side rushes in and strikes the flat back of Bardel's axe with a his steel hammer as though they were trying to split a stubborn log. The axe sinks deep into the monsters kneecap cleaving vital tendons and bone. The damaged limb can no longer hold the beasts bulk and with a great cry it lurches to the ground. It holds itself upright with a claw as the other wildly flails, trying to drive of the surge of attackers. It's movement is growing sluggish. It's cries are no longer the howl of an enraged monster, but the mournful groans of a dying animal.

Armaros' opponent turns to see whom he might be tossing the shortsword to. Though not the desired effect perhaps the young assassin takes the opportunity to free his hidden spike and drive it into the gnolls neck.

Instead of a fatal wound the creature suffers no worse than a violent poke. With a metallic clink Armaros' blade comes in contact with some unseen barrier hidden beneath the gnolls shaggy fur and he is forced to pull back his strike lest he break his weapon.

He dances back. The gnolls curved dagger dragging a red line along his collar and breastbone instead of slashing his throat. The wound is painful but not debilitating 5 damage to Armaros

Perhaps Armaros could still be counted lucky not to have slain his foe yet. Two arrows thud into the chest of the one eared gnoll. The beast then heartily tears the other in two with it's claws. As quickly as that the gnoll Armaros faces becomes the only living thing standing between him and the hulking beast.

A circle of strange symbols and glyphs flashes upon the ground amid the churning battle and a great golden furred mastiff leaps from it. A maw of gleaming ivory teeth clamp down on the back of an armored gnoll. With a sharp twist and a loud snap the hound breaks the creatures back and sends it's ruined body to the dust. The unearthly resonant bay it lets forth alerts the rest of the warriors to a most unexpected addition to their side.

A flurry of dwarven steel claims all but one of the gnolls. The only opponents left are the one gnoll facing armaros. The one facing the wall of dwaven guards. And the wounded yet still rampaging monster.

A whistling arrow from Neelix does nothing but add a small bit to the rolling chaos of the battlefield. The beast bends low and snatches up another gnoll in his jaws. The stubby creature howls in pain as it's lifted into the air and in a final act of defiance it brings it's blackened ax down onto the creatures face.

The beast jerks it's head away in pain. Spitting the mortally wounded gnoll to the ground to howl.

The two remaining gnolls facing it step forward and bury their axes each into a different knee. It slumps forward from the blow raking at them with its claws in retaliation. One gnoll loses an ear to the creatures claws but continues to fight. The other step back swiftly causing the monster to overextend. With its newly crippled legs it nearly falls. But even propped up on a meaty claw and bleeding heavily. The monster continues it's rampage.

The line of battling dwarves and gnolls becomes a gory struggle. A dwarven shield catches a gnoll under it's snout. Jagged teeth and blood fly from it's ruined mouth as an ax buries itself into it's exposed neck.
The dying gnoll slams it's flail down on the dwarf as it falls. The chain snagging on the shield and sending the weighted rod into the dwarves head with horrible speed.

From the woods Armaros launches himself behind the gnolls defensive line. His target whirls to meet him but not quickly enough to prevent a quick stab to the chest. Armaros meets and unexpected metallic resistance as the slender gnoll leaps off his blade. He deftly parries the gnolls dagger away with his blooded steel. If it weren't for a metal disk sewn onto the gnolls leather jerkin he would have skewered it through the heart.

No one seems to notice Morfumax as he breathes words of power. The sigils he draws in the air trace a small map of the cosmos as he sends his conciousness out to seek some aid.

Five gnolls swarm the beast, trying to bring it down before it can attack in earnest. It lashes out with muscle wrapped fists the size of a man's chest. Two gnolls are hurled to the ground by the blows. The first whirls to his feet swinging a barbed flail that thuds solidly off the side of the creatures head. It leaves an ugly gash just above its right eyes. The second gnoll received his blow to the head. He falls hard and does not stir.

The monster steps past them. To the gnoll who's abandoned pick still sticks out of from it's bleeding gut. The weaponless gnoll tries to back away to the safety of his companions but the creature catches him in it's jaws before he fully turns. With the sound of a slamming steel trap the gnolls right arm up to the shoulder is lost in the beasts black maw. It throws it's head back forcefully lifting the gnoll off it's feet and hurling him bodily into the western tree line, luckily the howls of pain and fear cover the sound of the gnolls arm being ripped from it's socket.

A slender gnoll, possibly a female tosses a sickle like blade which bounces off the monsters leg without harm. A short and squat gnolls rubs some darkened spongey material on his axe and wades forward to the beast.

The remaining gnolls are caught by the advancing line of dwarves. Axes , hammers, and steel shields begin ringing with the sounds of battle. Both the gnolls and dwarves fight with the skill of seasoned warriors. But the dwarves have numbers. As one bearded combatant falls from a chop to the leg he is pulled back by those behind him and another steps up in his place.

The left side of the wagon train is now choked with fighting. The wolf rider will need to find a new location to shoot from if he wants to avoid hitting his allies.

Armaros' location was being tracked by the gnolls as he ran into the woods. But as he lopes around the battlefield he sees the slender figure fumbling to pull a new weapon free. It's head is down. If he's fast Armaros might take advantage of the distraction. If any of the gnolls wish to fight Aramos, they would have to turn their backs to either the dwarves or the beast.

Morfumax can see that the beast is being injured, but apparently has the fortitude to ignore even ghastly wounds. If it's rampage is to be stopped something needs done.

Armaros darts into the light underbrush, staying low and quiet, and hoping that the gnolls focus on other matters.

You're up Max

A Gnoll with a furless mangy snout bobs past the halflings arrows.

Three dwarves heft their weapons and run to the side of the wagon staying shoulder to shoulder as they advance.

The Gnolls are left with three choices; the beast, the dwarves, or the woods. Their bared steel and teeth suggest that they aren't quite prepared to consider retreat.

Armaros you're up

The gnolls begin to drop their crossbows and pull free cruelly hooked battle axes and barbed picks.

One of them is quick enough to rush the big creature and scores and impressive blow from his pick. It arcs past the creatures arms and sinks two feet of iron deep into its muscle coated belly.

A dwarf from the firing line snaps off a round from his crossbow. Darting through the pack of gnolls without scoring a hit. The significance of a bolt whizzing past them was not lost to the group however. They begin to gird themselves for battle.

Some of the dwarves in the pack shout commands to form ranks but their is still some confusion.

In the meantime Neelix has a clear shot at the gnolls and it's his turn.

Combat has officially started. I'm gonna need initiative rolls.

The road you are fighting on is ten feet wide and runs straight north to south for miles. The three wagons behind you are under control for the most part.

The grey moster in is in front the first wagon with a semicircle of eight gnolls 10 ft behind it. (five of whom are holding empty crossbows)
The 8 dwarves with melee weapons are in a tightly packed group directly behind wagon 1 along with Aramos. The three with crossbows are in an impromptu firing line on the right hand side of the path. Neelix is on the left side of the caravan 55ft away from the monster.

Morfumax is sixty feet away in the forest at a right angle from the grey creature, no one seems to notice he's there, yet.

The dwarves, one by one, begin to lower their weapons amid a grumble of curses from their native language. The gnolls take a few steps into the road to stand more directly in front of the robed figures.

"Good choice." remarks the same hooded man. "If you think it makes you look more brave you may hold on to your iron. However, if my furry associates see anything amiss, my previous offer of our harmless parting becomes void."

He turns to one of the gnolls to his right and issues commands in a rasping tongue.

"Rask Lin hr Lin. Urtni srhrk onhum ge nishasad"

Suddenly one of the gnolls raises his crossbow and shouts in surprise. Seven gnoll bolts are aimed down the caravan. Most of them begin to back away panicked.

Some of the dwarves let loose cries as they see a darting golden ball the size of a cat burst from the westward treeline. It zig zags across the ground toward the front of the caravan.

The tiny manic pack of sparkles darts up the path and under the wagon. A wooden thunk sounds off before it emerges out the front and underneath the legs of the six eyed giant and headed straight for the group of robed men.

KTHUNK! KTHUNK! KTHUNK!

KATHKTHUNK!

Five crossbow bolts are launched from the jumpy gnolls as the unidentified glowing object blazes past. Three bolts hit the ground well behind their target. One lucky shot pins the luminescent thing to the ground.

To the horror of the gnollish marksmen. The fifth bolt is protruding from the skull of the central robed figure. As he falls back into the damp road the other five identical men dissipate into nothingness.

For a very brief second. All is perfectly still and quiet. Everyone frozen in place, they're minds slowly grasping the gravity of what just occurred. Then it all explodes into madness.

HHHHHHRRRRRRAAAAAAAAGGGHHHHH!

The huge beast unleashes a furious bellow the instant the man perishes. It rises to it's full height, its muscles bulging. It looks as though it's shaking itself from a walking sleep. The gnolls find themselves the objects of six hatred filled glares.

Sixty some feet away westward into the trees. A halfling who started his day with some innocent fun becomes witness to a very strange happening of events.

A team of eight gnolls stand up from their hiding positions placed along the side of the forest path. Four to the east of the wagon train, and four to the west. Sticks and forest refuse stick out from their backs and clothing, an effective camouflage when they were laying flat to the ground. Now they kneel, pointing large iron bound crossbows at the massing group of dwarves.

The beast stops it's assault on the wagon, and from the trees behind it emerges six identical hooded figures in a simple brown cloaks and forest garb. They step in unison onto the path as one of them begins to speak.

"If you value your lives you will drop your weapons. I want the hooper's wagon, nothing else. Surrender now and none of you have to die, despite how simple a task it would be for me."

The grey monster turns fixes its eyes upon the tall strange man, as if awaiting a signal.

"Make your choice."

The dwarves stand uneasy. The three in front have ceased trying to reload their weapons. The others in the not quite formation exchange fevered quick words in Dwaven toungue.

Neelix's arrow is loosed with a loud snap from his reinforced bow. The small streaking dart flies straight at the creature with impressive speed. Just before it collides with it's target it appears to be brushed aside by some sort of barrier. The missle veers wildly to the left and buries itself in a tree.

Two dwarven bolts soon follow the arrow. Both of them swept off course before they can bring harm to the behemoth.

For it's part the creature grabs the bloodied remainder of the mule in a single claw and hurls it at one of the dwarves who fired on it. The dwarf ducks under the flying cadaver as he fumbles to reload his weapon.

Rallying cries erupt from the dwarven guards as axes and staves are raised in earnest. Four more of the stumpy humaniods brandish heavy crossbows while the remainder fall back behind the wagon. Most of the commands being shouted are in dwarven but it is obvious that they are gathering for some sort of charge.

Neelix finds himself the only one even slightly prepared as a great grey beast materializes out of thin air in front of the first wagon in the caravan.

The hulking creature stands 8ft tall with long sinewy arms that scrape the ground. Six small yellow eyes peer above a huge black toothed maw which quickly busies itself with biting the head, neck, shoulders and some of the harness off of the lead mule in a single massive chomp.

Most of the dwarves simply shout in alarm. Two of them actually gather themselves enough to start pulling free crossbows.

Neelix's finds himself looking at the monster down the shaft of a broadheaded arrow. He has a clean shot since the creature decided to get most of that packmule out of the way.

A portly and balding dwarf with an unruly black beard turns from his march and shouts back to the human's alarm with an amused grin.

"It's probably just catchin a whiff o' Greis boy. The lads got a stink almost as strong as a kick from a mule!"

A round of deep laughter erupts from the surrounding dwarves

"Stow it Bardel!" you hear one yell from the front of the caravan. "I might have a little stink on me but it's the smell o an honest day a work. The only stink you get is the one that rubs off yerr ol' lady!"

The fat dwarf chuckles and hefts the long axe he's been using as a walking cane to his shoulder. "Ease up there lad. Look around, every leaf is mashed inna ground. There be na place to set any kinda ambush. Stop yer worryin over the fits of a lil' beastie like tha."

Aramos and Neelix peer around the bleak woods. The dwarf has a point. The view is clear deep into the forest and few of the trees are thick enough to consider hiding behind. They see no signs of trouble.

The weather is expectedly dreary as a small caravan trundles through the wooded foothills north of Baater. In this region, even in late May, winters hold has not been completely broken. A damp frigid breeze blows from the west, flowing out through the black leafless trees to chill the score of travelers that carry their wares and troubles to Metrir.

The hooper, the silversmith, and the carpenter with his two wagon loads of furniture are on their way to peddle and deliver their wares. The dozen armored Dwarves are citizens Metrir returning home and earning a few silvers as escorts on the trip. Walking next to the wagons hefting bludgeons and axes and idly chatting.

On the second wagon in the train, the hoopers cart, the young human being paid to drive it slumps forward sullenly in his seat. His thick cloak not doing as well as he would like to stave off the biting cold. Beside the wagon a short haired halfling rides barebacked on a large and grizzled gray wolf. A thick bow reinforced with strips of bone and iron slung across his mail clad back. These two have less simple explainations for their voyage.

The human and the halfling are the only ones to hear the wolf as it lets out a low rumbling growl.

Neelix