[b][center]The Slave Camp – Group A[/center][/b] 

	Sana finished hooking the horses up to the wagon and stifled a deep yawn as she covered her mouth. It had been a long day and it was only half way over; they still had a long way to go. What else would happen before the group was able to rest for the evening? Sighing deeply she pushed her hair out of her face and took a look around, they needed to get back to the village; at least most of them did. Sana had some personal matters to attend to that would cause her to stay behind. As much as she wanted to rush back to the village and make sure the rest of the group was okay she knew she couldn’t yet. 

	Turning as Lob came over to her she perked a brow as he held up the sword and smiled at him, reaching over and taking it slowly. “Thank you, I know he will cherish it,” she said softly before giving Lob a hug in thanks. Sana had been adventuring with an orc in the past; though Garekk was very different from Lob, he was full orc but they both seemed to have kind spirits. The same kindness she had seen in Drizzak. It was funny to her, some of the people she had come to most trust in her life where anything but humans. Perhaps that was a good thing. Taking the sword she laced it through the straps on her back that held her quivers in place and made sure it was snug and would stay in place. 

	“Okay, let us get these folks loaded up and back to the village,” Sana said as she turned back to everyone there and began to slowly help former prisoners up from their resting spots and into the wagon for the long trek back to safety and away from this hell they had been living in. Stopping for a moment she looked over what the others had found and nodded. “Nice haul. I am with Fiona; I say give most of this to the village and the people here. At least some of it was probably theirs when they were captured,” Sana said as she leaned down and brushed her fingers through the gold and gems in the chest. “It will take a lot to get these people taken care of and the village itself doesn’t exactly look rich,” she added as she righted herself and went back to helping load up the people into the wagon. Sana didn’t bother looking at what all was there; she wasn’t exactly interested in what was found. Lob had been kind enough to give her a sword she could give Hugh and she had per parents rings. It was more than she had expected and was fine with that little bit. 

	Once the last person was in the wagon Sana took a deep breath and walked over to Fiona and Vaeri; clearing her throat a bit and standing there looking a little nervous, something that was not common with Sana. “I need a favor,” she started before continuing. “I need you all and the others to go back to the village without me. I need to bury my father and well I need some time to clear my head. I can take care of cleaning this place up and getting rid of the rest of the bodies. These people don’t need to wait around any longer than they already have to get some food in their stomachs,” she said as she looked at Fiona and Vaeri. She wanted to go back but she knew it wasn’t time yet. “Could you let Hugh know I am alright and I will be back by nightfall?” she asked as she looked at the two women that had come with her. “I know he will be worried sick when you show up and I am not there but yeah, I need some time to clear my head. I just need sometime alone,” she admitted. It had been a rough day and right then the best thing for her was a few hours without anyone around her. 


[b][center]The Village – Group B[/center][/b]

	Gal wore a hate filled smirk on his lips as his group approached the village. Only a small handful had come out to fight and they looked worn and ragged, there were many missing from the initial fight and Gal thought to himself that this would be easier than he had originally thought. He did not bother to wonder where the rest where. They were not there so they were not his problem right then. He never imagined that they were at his camp to the north and were in the middle of bringing back the people his slave group had captured and that those left behind were now dead. 

	“Kill them all, make it painful, make it last. Let this village know they either come quietly when we are here or they lose everything,” Gal ordered to his minions. “Now!” he said as thrust his sword into the air and the group ran forward to attack those that dared to stand between him and village. The mercenaries who had wolves on chains and the beastmaster who had the hyenas released them from their binds and ordered them to kill anyone on the street; the beasts rushing forward as they did. One wolf ran right at Melkor while the other charged Tobias, teeth bared and snarling as they went. Both the hyenas decided to run towards the largest man in the group, right towards Hugh, bent on ripping him limb from limb as they charged. 

	The illusionist and the mage stayed towards the back of the group with the bard behind them, the archers and rangers forming a line before them to cut off incoming attacks while the rest of the assailants rushed forward behind the beasts. These were not the same type of group that had attacked the village earlier that morning; this group was ready for a fight. They had their weapons, they were armored and this time they were organized.  Sister Agnes stood there to the side of the fight that was beginning to break out and her eyes widened. Could this small group of adventurers really stop this onslaught to the village? She didn’t know but she could keep them healed through the fight. 

	The archers let off a volley of arrows towards those that stood against them and from behind the line of ranged weapons the illusionist began to chant. From his hand a barrage of flying axes went wising through the air, they looked solid and were meant to cause confusion for the group as a whole. The axes would cause no damage, they were a mere illusion but they looked real enough.  The mages spell however was anything but an illusion but it could seem that way. From between the buildings on either side of the village a fog came rolling in, thick and fast until it blanketed the road as either side of the fog banks crashed together in the middle of the village, rising up. 

It would make things more difficult to see but for the mage had misjudged just how good it would work for his team and underestimated how effective it would be for those defending the village. The trying to save the village were close combat fighters for the most part. They were not long ranged. Swords, hand to hand, daggers is what they carried and being able to sneak up on their assailants would make things easier. It would also make it harder for the archers and rangers of the slavers to actually hit a target; it was a rare break in luck for the brave souls that stood against the evils before them.  Hopefully they would use it to their advantage. 

The last one to do anything was the bard. He stood there waiting, his lute in hand before he began to play it once the fog rolled in. He began to try to play a suggestion song as he looked towards the one standing off to the side; Sister Agnes. Trying to get her to heal those he stood with instead of those that truly needed divine intervention at this point. The sisters head felt foggy as the song came to her hears. Shaking her head slightly a she stood there, trying to fight off the effects of the song before she could end up doing something she regretted.