Chapter 1: The Newcomers

'We shouldn't be here,' Temm's voice didn't quite tremble.

Binna agreed, they definitely shouldn't be here.

The cold wind sluicing down the pass was heavy with the scent of the long ones. They shouldn't be here in this thin copse of pine trees at the edge of the wide snow covered pass. They should be closer to the western cliff face where the tumbled boulders would offer them some safety if the long ones came for them. The people were fast, the fastest of all the peoples or so the old stories say. But the long ones were nearly as fast and their long limbs gave them the advantage over distance. If they were found more than a few dozen steps from safety by a long one, they would be caught for sure. Out here, minutes from the safety of the rocks and hours from the brambles around the clan's burrow, if the long ones came they would all be dead.

Worse than dead.

The snaggle toothed old matrons were very good at filling the ears of the clan children with the horrors of the long ones. In Binna's warren the blind matron Kayna was particularly gifted and would describe in great detail the sensation of a long one pulling and tugging on your entrails as they ate you alive. Binna wasn't too proud to admit that more than once as a child she awoke gasping with a shriek frozen in her throat to find her bedsheets damp with sweat and urine.

Perhaps less proud was she to admit that the long ones still stalked her dreams and that she'd awoke to wet bedsheets far more recently than she would like.

"We should go back to the boulders near the cliff and continue to the burrow," Temm continued with a whimper creeping into his voice.

Binna could feel the panic rising within herself, could easily smell it on the others as well, but she had a duty.

"Temm, I must bring this story back to the grandmatron."

"But Raph already told you what he saw, why do we need to wait for the orcs to come?"

"Because I am a storykeeper Temm, I must be able to tell the grandmatron what I saw with my own eyes. If the orcs are expanding into the pass, the grandmatron must know every detail I can bring her."

"But isn't it also our duty to tell the grandmatron what we learned at Stonybrook warren? We can't do that if we've been gutted by long ones, or captured by orcs."

Temm turned his plaintive gaze to Raph, begging with his eyes to make Binna listen to reason. Seeing no support there, he turned to the other two members of the troupe. They were young and this was their first time to go more than a stone's throw from the edge of the brambles. The young female Tay and her older littermate Rem were already on the edge of the panic. Their noses were jiggling like haunches of a mating pair sniffing for danger and getting a strong whiff of long one with each breath. Their cloak hoods were down and their long furry ears were at full mast twitching this way and that to detect any sound that might suggest that a predator was near. Their eyes were wide and wild to see all around them, unconsciously darting their heads this way and that to scan the small blind spot behind them.

They were going to break any moment now. Once the panic took them there was no telling where it would stop.

Quietly, Raph spoke for the first time since arriving at the thin treeline, "Temm, isn't wrong. We still need to bring the report from Stonybrook warren to the grandmatron, and at least tell her that the orcs are in the pass. Until morning we will wait for you at the crushed tower near the cliff."

"No! We must run! We must run to the burrow! The long ones surely come!" Spittle foamed at the corners of Temm's mouth as he fell fully into the jaws of the panic. "We must flee young ones! We must flee or we will be trapped between the long ones and the orcs! Run, run for your lives!"

The panic gripped Tay and Rem as well. Binna knew well that smell, the musk of fear mixed with a trickle of urine. It was all Binna could do to close her eyes and maintain her place as the three scattered in the leaping sprint of the people. Their shrieking voices were quickly lost as they sped away consumed in the fog of panic. She almost lost that battle too but Raph's hand gripped her cloaked shoulder steadying her even though his own breath was unsteady.

When she could trust herself to open her eyes again, Raph spoke. "I'll wait for you at the crushed tower. If I can find the other three I will hold them there too. But only until morning. At first light I must return to the warren. I respect your duty, but I have mine as well."

"Thank you Raph, but you're right; you also have a duty. Waiting for me overnight is putting you and the others at even more risk. If you can manage to find the others you should take them back to the burrow as soon as you can."

Raph gripped her shoulders even tighter forcing her to focus on his face as his soft brown eyes full of concern searched hers for doubt.

"You should go now, I'll be fine. You need to catch those three before they manage to spring headlong into a boulder or something."

Raph held her gaze but found only a small but growing determination in her emerald depths. He gripped her shoulders for a moment longer as if there was something else he needed to say but he only nodded, turned, and then and bounded off after the panicked trio.

***

Binna felt sorry for Temm, he'd always been weak to the panic and the path to the Stonybrook burrow was the most dangerous out of all the neighboring clans. The only way that didn't involve adding an extra week of travel and three river crossings took them dangerously close to the long one's territory in the high pass. Temm was angling to become a warden, but obviously the matrons didn't trust him and this trip was probably his last chance to prove himself. Even worse, they hadn't learned anything new from the Stonybrook clan. They also knew that the miasma had been getting worse but like the Stonybrook clan had no idea as to the why of it. The trip had proven to be a waste of time.

Alone under the low branches of a pine Binna pulled back her hood exposing her fluffy white ears. She strained to hear Raph and the others, but all she could hear was the whipping wind. Even though the pine boughs cut much of the wind her ears quickly became uncomfortably cold and so he pulled her hood back over her head. Her winter coat hadn't quite come in fully yet, the winter was even earlier and colder than last year, and it seemed as if she had only just shed her undercoat a little while ago. She had worn her best cloaks and robes made of burrowgrub silk for the trip to Stonybrook warren. Even patched as they were, the multiple layers of glossy white fabric cut the wind well and blended easily with the new snow that had been falling since last week. Her own winter fur, incomplete as it was, provided enough insulation to keep her warm as long as she didn't let the wind carry away her body heat. Although her feet were a bit uncomfortably wet and cold because she didn't have boots like Temm or Raph. She had only wooden sandals and had wrapped her feet with silk scraps to try to keep the cold out. It wasn't much but it would be enough as long as she found some shelter among the boulders and made a fire before the night became too cold.

She settled in against the rough bark of the trunk where she could watch the approaches through a break in the tree's cover. If Raph was right about the orcs they'd be visible coming over the rise within the hour. He'd been watching their backtrail for signs of any beasts stalking them from the lower valley where Stonybrook burrow was located. Instead he'd spotted the glint of sunlight on metal. Binna led Temm and the young ones further up the pass to the sparse cover of the treeline to wait while Raph got a closer look. The distance vision of the people isn't known to be very good and Raph was able to blend so well with the snow that even if Binna had known where to look she usually couldn't find him. Not that Binna's eyesight was very good, even for one of the people. She spent most of her time in the dim burrow reading the old stones and memorizing the stories, she did not spend much time outside under the broad sky. But Raph was able to blend in so well that he could easily get close enough to identify the group coming up the pass and then escape without notice. And that was just what he had done. Orcs, he said and that was seriously bad news.

The long ones were bad, they hunted and feasted on the people but they tended to stay further up the mountain and only hunted opportunistically. But orcs were a different kind of danger. They liked the same sorts of living locations that the people liked, and they were fiercely territorial. If a tribe of orcs moved into close proximity to a clan of the people, it was only a matter of time before the orcs would move in and burn the thicket above the burrow to the ground and slaughter the entire clan. Binna had never seen an orc herself, and only knew the stories from the clans that had needed to flee from the advance of orcs. Even in the summer moving the entire clan would be nearly impossible in the winter it would be certain death for them all. The stories said that the long ones and the orcs avoided each other, and if that was the case Binna needed to see what would happen when the orcs approached the long one's territory. If the long ones forced the orcs back they would be forced towards the Meadowvale burrow and would only bring calamity with them.

As she waited Binna felt her hunger grow. They hadn't taken many supplies with them and the Stonybrook clan had little to give them for the trip back. The ever increasing miasma was cutting the growing season shorter and shorter. All the clans would need to stretch their larders very carefully over the winter. Binna had two pieces of acorn bread in her linen bag, but she wanted to save those in case she needed to hide in the cleft of some boulders on the way back to the burrow, so instead she dug her claws under the edge of a chunk of bark from the tree trunk and pried it off. The bark was tough and fairly tasteless, holding very little in the way of nutrients, but her long front teeth could nibble through it well enough and it would fill her belly.

As she gnawed the chunk of bark she considered the more abstract threats to her clan. The long ones were a known nightmare, predators. Terrifying to the people, but a threat that they had been dealing with for more generations than Binna could count. The orcs were also a more or less known threat. She'd never encountered one herself, and her clan hadn't dealt with them since her great grandmother's great grandmother's day but they were still something she could comprehend. They claimed territory for their tribe and then killed anyone who found themselves within their newly claimed territory. They were vicious and brutish, but the people simply needed to move away if the orcs came to claim their territory. Not that Binna knew of any place that their clan could move to, but they had done it before and they could do it again. But then there was the miasma.

One of the first stories Binna learned as an apprentice storykeeper was the story of the miasma. The story came from hundreds of generations past, the miasma comes from the great maw at the center of the continent where the dark ones are imprisoned. The miasma, the ever present smoke that billows from the maw a physical manifestation of their impotent fury at being trapped there. The foul air blankets the sky, stealing from the peoples of the continent the full warmth of the sun. The stories tell of the before time, before the dark ones came when food was plentiful and the growing seasons stretched on for all but the coldest months. More recently, within Binna's own lifetime, the miasma began to increase. The sky grew darker and darker and the days grew colder and colder. Soon it felt like there would never be a summer again. Her own Meadowvale clan didn't know why it was happening, the Stonybrook clan didn't know why it was happening. She suspected that the other troupes that had been sent to Springfield, Highglade, Oakroot, and a dozen others would all return with the same news: None of the people knew why it was happening or what to do about it.

The prospect of rampaging orcs destroying her clan's burrow and forcing them to flee in the middle of winter was immediate and intense, but it was also something that she had some level of control over. She could bring information back to the grandmatron and the council of matrons would decide what to do. Their destruction wasn't a foregone conclusion and there were still steps that they could take to avoid the worst case. The long ones as terrifying as they were also offered her a chance to control her own fate. She could be careful and swift, patient and quiet and she could keep their fangs from her throat. The miasma on the other hand was an existential threat not to her own life, not to the lives of her clan, but to the lives of all the peoples everywhere and she had no idea what to do about it.

She decided that she was just worrying herself in circles and instead focused on the pass that stretched away before her. The snow had stopped, but was already at least as high as her hips. Behind her was the cliff face that defined the western edge of the pass, across the open expanse to the east was the tree dotted slope of the mountain which rose quickly into a nearly insurmountable climb. In the spring the area between the cliff and the eastern slope would be a torrent of snowmelt coursing through the tumbles of stone. The spring snowmelt washed away the soil in the center of the pass leaving only gravel and the occasional huge boulder. The pass wasn't very wide at this elevation, a few hundred yards behind her was the cliff, a few hundred more to the other side of the pass where the slope rose. Once the orcs came over the rise they would be close enough that even the people's poor eyesight would be sufficient. At the top of the rise near the base of the eastern slope was the tumbled remains of a dwarven outpost.

Binna knew it was dwarven because even though the tower and guardhouse had been obliterated at some time in the long shrouded past she could see the carved blocks that flanked the entrance to the low wall around the compound. The carved blocks were stones about half again as tall as Binna that were chiseled into a likeness of a blocky dwarf, well at least she assumed that dwarves didn't actually look that much like rectangular stones, but no one living had ever seen one and none of the stories spoke of what they looked like exactly. She couldn't quite see the details at this distance, focusing her eyes forward just made it slightly less blurry, but she'd seen enough of them on the path to the Stonybrook clan that she could tell these were more of the same. The dwarves had once long ago been the greatest of all the peoples on the continent, but the old ones had destroyed them utterly. Among her clan's storystones were some tales from when the dwarves still lived, even some said to be transcribed from actual dwarven texts. Binna's people didn't have a written language, instead they used the letters of other peoples. The blocky angular runes of the dwarves were perfect for carving storystones. The flat flagstones were often pulled up from old dwarven ruins or the surface of abandoned roads, ground into regular shapes then polished smooth and finally inscribed with the text of a particularly important story or record. They were perfect for keeping important documents over many generations in the damp soil of the warrens. The people also used the flowing script of the old tongue for writing with ink on linen sheets, but linen requires too much maintenance to keep it from rotting underground and so it is mostly used in the form of temporary documents.

Binna like many storykeepers had a personal journal made of linen pages that she kept on her person at all times. It was her prized possession, a gift from Raph on the day she completed her apprenticeship. He had outdone himself with thin birchwood covers faced in glued linen, the outside dyed a handsome emerald green and the insides dyed a sunny yellow. The eighty fine bleached white linen pages of the journal were carefully sewed into the spine. It must have taken him weeks to construct, especially with his scout duties taking him away from the burrow constantly. It couldn't be more painfully obvious that Raph liked her, but he could never bring himself to say the words. And though she liked him too, he didn't set her heart aflutter. Fortunately she still had time to consider. The traditions were clear, the male must be the one to speak the words and until Raph did so she didn't have to make a decision yet.

Her wandering thoughts brought her to absently finger the shape of the journal within her bag. The emerald green exterior was Raph's favorite color and the symbol of his craft and duty. The scouts protected the burrow by finding threats before they came too close. The sunny yellow interior was Binna's favorite color and represented her constant optimism and hope for a brighter future. The symbolism was clear, Raph wanted to protect her happiness. Though she was sure some of their warrenmates would look doubtfully on that interpretation, they were wrong. Raph had a reputation as a quiet male with nothing going on under his ears, but those who knew him best found that reputation laughable. And Binna knew him very well indeed. They'd been friends since before their eyes had even opened. She could still remember his smell as they lay in the creche together with the dozens of other newborns from the births that had occured that week. Their eyes shut and limbs too weak to support themselves, Raph had always found his way next to her. It was rather sweet to be honest, and for the longest time she had thought of him as her brother. They played together and grew up together. She'd thought of him as her sibling for so long that was probably why she was of two minds about his interest. The different coloration of their fur made it unlikely that they were from the same mother. Binna's snowy white and Raph's mottled browns and tans were about as clear a sign as could be that they were unrelated. Though even if they had been from the same mother the rules of the clan were clear, as long as their coloration was different they could mate. It was pretty clear that Raph wanted that, he constantly turned away the oblique advances of even some very attractive young does. That idling thought actually clarified a feeling that she'd had for a while now. Raph hadn't said the words because he knew her heart hadn't found the answer yet. He was waiting until she had made up her mind one way or another before speaking the words. Smarter perhaps even than she gave him credit for. Another point on the positive column for Raph. A column overbursting with points it seemed.

But this was not to be the time for Binna to examine the needs of her heart, because at that moment she caught the glint of sunlight on metal just over the rise downhill.

***

There were four of them and they seemed to be glancing curiously at the stones of the dwarven fort as they walked past. Her first instinct was to agree with Raph, they had to be orcs. The one in front was easily three times the height of even the strongest and largest of the people, and had to weigh at least nine times as much. And though she really couldn't tell from this distance it looked like the creature was all bulging muscle encased in some sort of armor made from the hides of animals and hammered metal. He, she could only assume such a massive creature as masculine, was easily the size of any orc chieftain if not larger. The other three were noticeably smaller though. The next in line was at least a fifth shorter than the leader and much less muscled. The other two a fifth again shorter than the second, and even less muscled. It was hard to tell from this far away, but they were all wearing clothes and armor that was much finer than the descriptions of orcish warbands from the scouts who had seen them before. Orcs made their own armor, weapons, and clothes; this was known to the clan. But it was also known that what the orcs made was crude. They were made from the uncured hides of animals roughly sewn with sinew and reinforced with bone. Their weapons were stone and wood and bone, maces and clubs or for the stronger warriors cruel looking axes made with crudely hammered iron blades cracked and edged wickedly. These four were wearing clothing and armor as finely crafted as any that the people could make. The smallest (still more than twice as tall as herself) was wearing what appeared to be a very fine fur cloak with hood over a dyed cloth robe. The flashes of bright turquoise cloth from beneath the spotted white cloak as the small one took each step was something that she knew should never be seen on an orc though.

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Orcs, especially the larger warriors or chieftains would carry ancient weapons or armor of dwarven make. The dwarves vanished from the continent before the end of the great war, hundreds of generations ago. Dwarven smithing was so fine that many of their weapons and armor still exist to this day. Though they lacked the skill to repair them, carrying a weapon or shield of dwarven make was quite the trophy for an orc strong enough to keep it, at least until it finally broke after it's thousandth battle. But cloth, no one made cloth in sizes large enough for orcs to wear, not that she knew of, and certainly not dyed in such a brilliant shade.

There was something else, something that she couldn't quite suss out right away. Orcs were described as brutish creatures, incredibly muscled, but lacking in fine control. They were all violence and aggression, they walked hunched over at the shoulders stomping their way through the land. The four figures walking up the valley pass didn't seem to fit that description. They walked standing up straight, though perhaps not without a little weariness. Their heads seemed to follow whatever caught their eye, not as a hunter seeking prey as an orc, or even as prey watching for predators like the people, but... curious perhaps? One of the smaller ones even made a few circles around the dwarven stones looking at it from all angles, its white robes and cloak dragging in the snow as it crouched to inspect the runic lettering on the lower half of the stones.No, Binna was sure these were not orcs. Far more sure than she should be, considering that she only knew them from description and story. But, she was sure none the less. And that presented a problem. Had they been orcs she simply would have waited for them to encounter the long ones and then slipped away and reported back to the matrons of the clan what happened. But if these weren't orcs, what were they? And if they weren't orcs could they be friendly? She didn't have enough information to make a decision, but with every step the newcomers took up the valley pass they drew ever closer to the long ones. Perhaps she was imagining things, but she thought that she could actually smell them better now, more of their profane scent carried on the wind to her. Were they massing in that thicket up the way ready to pounce on the newcomers? If they were it would be a slaughter, and the newcomers were walking right into it.

No, she wasn't imagining it. The wind was definitely carrying the heavy scent of the long ones, theirs was a distinctive odor. There was their natural heavy musk, but also the more unsettling scent of rendered fat rubbed into their curly matter fur. The long ones didn't wear clothes, maybe the occasional belt or strap to hold a pouch or weapon, but otherwise they relied on their dense fur to keep them warm. In the cold mountain forests here, that wasn't enough. They also rubbed the fat of their kills into their fur to insulate themselves. This close to the clan, the people made up a not insignificant amount of their kills. And so there was a distinct and familiar charnel tang carried on the wind that turned her stomach. With this much scent from this far away there had to be a dozen waiting in the twisted branches of the thicket. The newcomers were walking right into their death if they got close enough to the treeline to be within sprinting distance of the long ones, they'd be overwhelmed before they knew what was happening.

Binna fought internally over if she should warn them, and how. If they were friendly she couldn't just let the long ones take them. But if they were not friends she would be exposing the clan if she exposed herself. And what even could she do at this point? She was too far away and they had already drawn too close.

Her indecision was halted by an unusual clattering. It sounded like small stones falling onto more stone from a great height, but far too regular for that. There were six rapid clacks followed by a moment of silence then six more rapid clacks. Or she thought it was six, they happened so fast that it was nearly impossible to count. The newcomers apparently heard the clattering as well and stopped in their tracks looking around. They were well short of the thicket where she was sure the long ones were hiding and seemed to now be aware that something was waiting for them within the branches. The figures all doffed their cloaks and packs and the colossus in the lead shouldered his oblong shield and pulled a studded club nearly twice her own height from his back and adjusted his footing into a solid wide legged stance.

The armor she had seen through the opening in his cloak continued over nearly his whole body. It was some sort of layered affair made of brown lacquered metal plates riveted to multiple sheets of cured leather. It covered his head, his chest front and back, his legs and arms, as well as a wide armored belt that reminded her of the ornamental cumberbunds that males of the clan would wear on special occasions. It was hard to tear her eyes away from this veritable living mountain, but when she did she saw that the others were also making battle preparations as well. None of them were as impressively armed and armored as the enormous leader, but the two middle sized figures had some sort of woven metal armor over what appeared to be leather or cloth knee jackets. They both also had shields, though much smaller and differently shaped than the giant, one circular and one sort of square with a pointed base. They also held similar long hafted weapons, the one with the circular shield having a heavy blunt looking end and the other having an axe blade and spike. The smallest one alone didn't seem to be wearing any armor and didn't take off their cloak, they were just holding a long walking stick with the end wrapped in coils of metal wire with several shiny objects attached.

Couldn't they smell them? They were far closer than Binna, so they must be able to smell them. They were all far too calm, certainly they couldn't know what was waiting for them in the forest, if they knew they would be running for their lives.

Another series of clacks cracked through the chilled air, this time several rapid sets of clattering of uneven length followed shortly by several sharp whistles rising and falling in pitch.

***

"Aw man, do any of you remember what those clicks and whistles were supposed to mean again?" Brian's deep bass voice rumbled in his chest as he looked over his shoulder at Kurt for any help.

"Nah, man. I didn't quite catch it all. The first set meant an ambush in our line of travel, I'm pretty sure. The rest of it, I think Brent was telling us how many and where and all that, but let's be honest I tried to pay attention when he went over it all but..." Kurt shrugged and used the blunted spike on the back of his axe to scratch the spot on his neck where his shield strap was digging in. He felt a small twinge of guilt about that of course, as the leader he was supposed to memorize this stuff and Brent certainly spent enough time trying to teach them. But he was getting old and his brain wasn't sucking up knowledge as well as it used to. "Let's not mention it to him, eh? He's really eager about it all, and I don't think I could take one more of those disappointed looks of his."

Charlotte piped up from the back, "You guys are hopeless, you know that? I didn't catch it all either but I'm pretty sure the clacks said like ten enemies and I know for sure the whistles means that some of them have bows."

She glanced over at Michael for confirmation and he nodded. "Yeah, I think Charlie's right. In any case, it's wide open snow to the left, and lightly wooded slope to the right, so whatever's waiting for us has to be in the woods ahead of us there." Michael motioned toward the thick stand of trees with his mace.

At the front Brian bounced on the balls of his feet and loosened his neck and shoulders. His heavy composite brigandine armor thumping against his body as he readied himself for a fight.

Kurt eyed the trees ahead trying to catch a glimpse of what might be inside and started formulating a plan. "Alright, Charlie, since there's going to be some archers I'll need you on deflection duty. See if you can't blast any of them that bunch up, but mostly keep an eye out for arrows. Brian, let's not get too close to the trees, if they aren't shooting at us yet it probably means that we aren't in range. Let's keep it that way if we can. At least if they're going to shoot us, make them come out in the open to do it. If they don't show themselves soon, let's back up and head to those ruins we just passed. There's not much left standing but it'll put some distance between us and those trees and we can come up with a better plan if we need to."

***

The newcomers were holding their positions. The long ones seemed to be wary as well. Normally being that close to prey would have sent the long ones into a frenzy and they would have charged out, but something about the newcomers made them cautious. Binna could scarcely breathe, the tension was so thick.

Then as if the newcomers had waited long enough, they bent down to retrieve their cloaks and packs from the snow and began to walk slowly backwards away from the treeline. This seemed to break the spell and perhaps the long ones sensing their prey were going to escape decided to make their move. The branches at the edge of the treeline parted and the crooked shapes of the long ones emerged from the woods, their limbs nightmarishly long their maws studded with sharp teeth and dripping in anticipation.

***

"Ah, shit. What the fuck are those? It looks like someone crossed a really sick wolf with a discount spider and covered it in crusty jizz." Charlotte's voice wavered slightly. "That's the worst shit I've seen all month."

Kurt couldn't disagree. They looked kind of like wolfmen but their legs and arms were at least three times longer than they should be. They moved with a spider like motion that set off alarm bells in his lizard brain. The six that emerged from the forest all seemed to have short polearms strapped to their backs, some kind of glaive by the looks of it.

Michael offered an explanation, "Gnolls, I think. The last guild buletin mentioned one of the groups east of here encountering some creatures that looked like this in one of the lowland forests. The report is that they're fast and have amazing reach. They said that those sword-spear things are really effective when fighting in the trees. The note also mentions really long longbows and arrows the size of heavy javelins but I don't see... oh never mind there they are."

Another five of the black furred creatures came slinking out of the woods, these armed with bows that were at least nine feet long and toting arrows that looked almost half as long as the bows that fired them.

"What do you think boss?" Michael asked. "Those arrows will probably go right through our shields."

"I figure those bows don't have great range with arrows that heavy. They're probably good for flying through underbrush and leaves and whatnot, but we're obviously out of range or they'd be shooting already. I suspect that they have to let them fly in a really high arc to get any kind of decent range. Charlie, what do you think? Can you deflect them?"

Charlotte tilted her head to the side slightly and considered the situation. "Yeah, probably. As long as they don't get close enough to use a flat trajectory it shouldn't be a problem."

Michael injected, "If these are gnolls, and I think we can assume that, the guild builitin says we're to treat them as probable hostiles. So, no need to go out of our way to try to parlay if they don't seem open to it."

Kurt nodded, "Alright, yeah my gut was telling me these guys aren't nice, but it's good to have it in writing. Fine, I think we can take 'em as long as we don't let the archers get into cover in the forest. So don't get any closer to the woods than this. Brian, if those glaive armed ones rush in, try to intercept as many of them as possible. Michael and I will make sure none of them get a free line on your back, and Charlie, stay between Michael and I and we'll keep 'em off you too. If you get a free shot, roast 'em but the arrows are your primary responsibility. Everyone good with that?"

Various acknowledgements came back from the group, and Kurt, turned his full attention back to the staredown that was occuring between the werewolf-spider-things and their friendly meatshield. The pack was growling and salivating as they paced back and forth across their line of sight, their piercing yellow eyes never leaving the party. Kurt watched the pack for what felt like an eternity as the movement of their heads was almost hypnotic and the way their limbs folded in on themselves as they prowled kept drawing his eyes. It couldn't have been more than a minute before he snapped back to the current moment and noticed their tracks in the snow. This hypnotic pacing was covering for the fact that they were steadily closing in on the party. They had gained nearly thirty yards on the party as they watched their numbing procession.

"Brian, bro, they're getting closer. They've sucked us into their pace, let's see if we can take back the initiative."

"Sure thing, boss." The mountainous warrior loosened up his neck and shoulders again after having been staring at the pack for too long, then proceeded to make a deep hooting noise and started pounding his huge ironbound maul against his shield.

The gnolls seemed to be taken off guard and stopped their pacing. After a moment of watching Brian's display they stood to their full heights and the largest one began a bone chilling howl that the others picked up and amplified. Without warning they all immediately fell to all fours and charged the party with alarming speed.

***

This was a side of the long ones that Binna had never seen before. They were never this cautious if they caught the scent of the people. They never saw the need to use their weapons either, claws and teeth were more than enough to drag down the people as they ran for their lives. But this was different. The long ones seemed unused to prey standing their ground. When the large newcomer began banging his shield and hooting she was able to tear her eyes away from the terrifying beasts long enough to notice how much ground they had covered while she had been distracted. She felt a sudden pang of panic for the newcomers, the long ones had already gotten close enough that there was no escape even for one of the people, let alone anyone as large and slow as the newcomers.

The long ones seemed to know it too because they let loose a echoing hunting howl, a sound that had heralded the end of many a clan in the history of the people. Suddenly they charged the newcomers and it was all Binna could do to not let the panic take her. Her body wanted nothing more than to run as fast as her feet would take her away from this horror, but she gripped her knees to her chest and rocked silently as the watched death bear down on the newcomers.

After a moment the five long ones in the back skidded to a halt and brought their bows to bear on the newcomers as the six in the front continued to charge in an awkward three limbed gallop using their free hand to pull their long bladed spears from sheathes on their backs. The back rank aimed high and loosed a volley of arrows that was timed to rain down on the newcomers just before the front rank crashed into the large newcomer at the front of their formation.

The large newcomer at the front stood in an open stance almost daring death to take him, but it was not to be death for the newcomer this day. As the arrows rose high into the sky seeking to impale the figures standing in the snowy pass the small one in the back made a complicated and oddly geometric shape and pattern with fingers and movement of their left hand, while the right hand banged the staff with the wire wrapped head against the frozen ground causing the bangles hanging from it to jingle in time with the precisely timed movements of the left hand. Finally, just after the arrows reached the apex of their arc a sudden and swift slashing motion of the small one's left arm coincided with a powerful gust of wind that whipped at their clothing and scattered the incoming arrows far to the right of their targets. Even the trees on the slope far from the battle bowed and danced in the unnatural gale.

Binna was caught watching the arrows flying uselessly away as the charging long ones dove into the large armored warrior at the front. He was struck by four of the long one's blades as they entered their range, but two of them slid off his shield and the other two seemed to lodge their tips into the leather behind the steel plates of his gut armor and penetrate no further. The all in nature of the long one's charge left them wide open to the warrior's counter attack and his huge sweeping blow crushed the two long ones who were pulling their blades free of his armor. The giant warrior's iron maul which would have looked like a tree trunk in the hands of a lesser being literally slammed the first beast into the second causing them to tumble away, their torsos crumpling around shattered spines. As they spun to the blood sprinkled ground the tremendous warrior reversed his swing. His mammoth iron club swung back in a rising arc, and caught one of the long ones who was focusing on the smaller newcomer with the round shield. Even the backhand swing from this giant was powerful enough to decapitate the distracted beast literally pulping the beast's head sending the contents of it's skull splattering across the snow.

The smaller newcomers weren't faring any worse either, the one with the angular shield had already deflected the wild lunge from one of the long ones and lodged his axe in the beast's spine in passing. The remaining two long ones were trying to get past the round shielded one to strike at the smallest newcomer, but were being deflected as the round shielded one placed his body in their way and swung his mace at their gangly limbs. The small one for their part was again making those complicated angular gestures as more arrows flew inbound, but there were two less this time. Binna hadn't seen what happened to them, but two of the archers were lying slumped on the snow with an arrow each in their backs. As the small newcomer again scattered their arrows with a powerful gust of wind the archers finally realized that they had been flanked.

And just like that, the battle turned. The remaining two long ones engaged in melee tried to back away from the fray, but the round shielded one finally managed to strike one of the gangly limbs, shattering it and causing it to stumble into the flashing strike of his axe wielding comrade. As the last one turned to flee it left itself open to the giant and he swung his spiked iron log in an almost lazy overhead arc striking the routed beast in the shoulder and driving it into the ground like a gory pile of discarded kindling. The three living archers began to flee towards the treeline and finally Binna caught a glimpse of what had killed the other two: A figure in an icebear cloak materialized from the treeline and loosed an arrow at one of the fleeing creatures. The shaft buried itself to the fletchings in the beast's ribcage causing it to tumble across the snow, but still it dragged itself towards the treeline leaving a crimson trail.

Again, Binna heard the tinkling of the bangles from the small one's staff and she turned to look just in time to see a bolt of lightning burst down from the low cloud cover. The crackling filament touched the tip of the staff then lanced out to strike the closer of the two fleeing beasts and then leap to the other in a jagged bolt. Both long ones stiffened and fell smoking as the brilliant flash and head quaking boom stunned her even though she was so far from the fray.

And that was it. The newcomers walked from crumpled form to crumpled form to finish the job if there seemed to be any life left in the beasts. The bear cloaked one walked up to the long one still trying to crawl its way to the dubious safety of the forest and dispatched the vile creature with a single thrust of a well used sword.

Binna could do nothing but stare in utter awe as the ever present terrors of her people had been crushed with apparent ease by the mysterious newcomers.

***

"Brent! Good job on the warning! And, nice flank bro!" Brian, the ever jolly giant he was, gave the bear-cloaked ranger a breathtaking slap on the back.

"Oof!" It took Brent a long moment to gain his breath again, but when he did he ignored the mountainous warrior and instead addressed the party leader, "Kurt, there was one more of the archers in the forest, but I got him already."

"Good work. What's the way ahead look like? It's going to be dark here in a few hours and if we're going to find more of those things in the forest, we might want to make camp and tackle it in the morning."

"Yeah, I figure they have a den up ahead somewhere. They didn't seem to be carrying anything that you'd need to roam far from base. And, the wind tastes like snow. You see those clouds coming over the peaks there?"

Brent was a peerless scout and if he said there would be snow, then that's what was going to be, but Kurt eyed the direction that Brent indicated and saw the heavy dark clouds that were sloughing over the distant peaks.

"Yeah, how long you figure we got?"

"Two maybe three hours, then we're going to get at least a few feet of snow. Temp's going to drop hard too, windchill is going to be a bitch. I spotted a covered place to camp back about half a mile though. Up the slope from those ruins is an underground structure made of the same construction as the fort ruins. Looks like a redoubt for the fort. Probably a safe place to camp."

"Alright, then let's do that and come at this again in the morning..." Kurt trailed off as Brent's eyeline moved over his shoulder to focus on something behind him. The ranger then nodded subtly for Kurt to look.

Turning, Kurt saw a small robed creature hopping tentatively towards them. The creature sensed that it had been spotted and leaned back on its haunches, pulled back its hood revealing a rabbit-like head with brilliant green eyes and tall fuzzy white ears. The creature raised its hands, pink palm pads outward in a gesture of surrender and squeaked out a short phrase in some sort of language that Kurt didn't recognize.

Ever the one to state the obvious, Charlotte said, "Well boss, guild wants us to find friendlies, that sure looks like a friendly."

***

(End of Chapter 1)

Written by Charles Caplan, all characters and situations are fiction.