Jorn

“That’s another one for me, Prettyboy. You’re going to have to try harder than that to keep up.” It was times like this that Jorn could not tell that Randar wasn’t a berserker. Were it not for his emberhawk, Robyn, Jorn would just assume that he was a barbarian. Any onlooker would think that the beastmaster was having the time of his life rather than defending the village from a siege, the grin on his face severely out of place when compared to his blood spattered leather and crimson short spears.  

“I thought we already decided that Robyn’s kills don’t count for yours unless you get the killshot. Two on one isn’t exactly far,” Even as he said that, Jameson cleaved his broadsword through two full grown men in a single swipe. The paladin wasn’t nearly as ecstatic about the combat as Randar but that did not mean he’d shy away from it.  

Both of the humans were doing their utmost to protect the gathering of civilians they’d managed to collect from the farms when the fight started. With Liam providing healing and the occasional deadly coppernut projectile, as well as buffs from both Jorn and Pak, they had not yet sustained any serious injury. The town’s last evacuation plan included falling back to the dungeon with a small escort of guards while the rest defended the palisade. Naturally, things had changed.

Not only had the projection of a completed palisade been optimistic at best, but the guard was stretched too thin. Added to the fact that the forest had changed its behavior to not allow night time visitors and you had a nasty storm of unfortunate events. Instead, the Greensongs had decided to volunteer to round up as many people as they could and make their way back to the bridge. They wouldn’t be able to get to the dungeon, but they should be able to navigate to the ominous willow clearing at the least.  

Randar and Jameson made short work of the small collection of attackers that had cut them off and the group progressed toward the bridge once more. It wasn’t long until they heard combat nearby again and decided to cut through the street toward the sound.  

Jorn spotted 14 more villagers standing off against more invaders. Amongst the dwarves Jorn spotted the group of four dwarves, three of them wielding their Forged, gleaming massive brass axes, equally suited for felling trees as they were cleaving a man and two, apparently. His eyes skirted over the group until he found what he was looking for, Melody was there between the two Drow.  

“Give ‘em hell, boys!” Pak belted from the backlines as he picked up the tempo on his pipes. The defending townsmen already looked like they were on the winning side of the skirmish, and the Greensongs along with the few farmers they picked up that owned weapons, crashing into the backlines of the brigands certainly only helped. After dispatching the group, Jorn synched up with Melody and they began making their way toward the bridge.  

“Are you faring well, Ms Mayor?” Jorn could be seen physically cringing even as the words left his mouth. Of course she wasn’t doing well, they were under attack and everything they’d worked so hard to build was burning down around them.

“About as well as you could expect, Jorn. Thank you for helping to defend the town, I know that you didn’t have to.” Melody’s voice was more tired than anything else, but Jorn could still make out the bit of grief and sorrow under all the exhaustion. He clenched his staff in anger, now excited to find more invaders and show them exactly how he felt.  

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Twice they doubled back because a path was blocked by flaming debris but they had no more issues from the invaders. The cowards didn’t feel the need to engage a group that was nearly 30 strong, apparently, and so they were able to make it to the bridge with little more issue. As they approached they ran into another group, this one a little more unexpected.  

“Ms Mayor! Greensongs! I am very happy to see you survived! I don't know if I would have been able to escort so many people into the forest by myself.” shouted a gangly looking human whose name Jorn could not recall. He stood there holding a pitchfork and was surrounded by 13 children, ages ranging from 3-11 if Jorn had to guess, and a few elderly women.  

Jorn mentally chastised himself for forgetting that the cultists had a childcare service they used during their Sabbath. That is probably where the Greensongs should have headed. Luckily, it looks like this young human made it there just fine. Judging by the blood coating almost every inch of his body, he didn’t make there unimpeded.  

Even as Jorn stared at the human he noticed that the blood was not the strangest thing about him, nor was his unorthodox choice of weaponry. Surrounding the bow was a sort of shimmering in the air, not too unlike a hot surface in the distance in the daylight. Rather than waving, however, it looked like the air around him was made of glass, constantly shattering and shifting. Some sort of aura, apparently, but Jorn could not be sure what it was in the dead of the night.

“Jeremy, you gathered the kids. Good job. Where are Davis and Kala?” The dejected boy did not answer, but instead dropped his gaze to the ground. There was a moment of silence, the drop in her shoulders letting Jorn know that Melody understood, before she spoke again, “Right, well let's make our way across the bridge. Nobody enter until everybody has gathered on the other side, we need to stick together.”  

It did not take too long for everyone to gather in front of the first willow that signaled the start of the enchanted forest. Jorn and his party took up the vanguard while the surviving town guards and Jeremy followed up the group. A shout from the other side of the river, followed by a barrage of arrows that went a little wide, added even more ugrancy to the already stressed refugees. With every child holding hands the group sprinted their way into the forest, headed along the only path that was open to them.  

As they walked they could hear rustling on either side of the path. The occasional Javelin Squirrel leapt overhead and swift black shapes let the group know that the bats were active as well, but none engaged the group. From time to time, Jorn would even swear he could see the gleaming eyes of a predator staring out at him from the tree line, reflecting the magelights that they used to illuminate the path. Every time he blinked they disappeared.  

With every twist and turn, each bend of the path or stumble of a child who was walking to swiftly, Jorn expected the trees to change. The goliath oaks that surrounded them would turn into the gnarled, twisted, demented-looking trees they’d seen and they’d know they were in the haunted trial. It had taken the group unaware, but Jorn was determined to catch the change this time. He really wanted to know how that magic worked.

That didn’t seem to be in the stars for the night though, because before they knew it they had exited into the first clearing of the forest. The one with the renewing trees, which were currently large saplings.  

“Huh, well that’s unexpected.” Without much else to do, the group pressed onwards to the path on the far side the glade, hoping they would make it to the dungeon before the attackers caught up, if they were chasing.