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"Cheers, lad!" Winston called back over his shoulder, as his plate mail was thickened by a surge of arcane ice, strengthening it against the claws of the undead marauders. 

"Back to the nether with you!" Beaudriyah bellowed, sending a pillar of smouldering flame lancing down upon the lumbering abomination. The shrieking explosion of fire ripped through its body, charring flesh and organs, and sending the hulking monstrosity crashing down ontop of the ghouls who lurked about it. 

Casting such a spell was beyond taxing, something akin to sprinting four-hundred meters with a fully-armoured knight on your back, and exhaustion hit the sorceress like a gauntlet-clad fist.

"Winston...Alistair.." She wheezed "Get us out of here." 

"Yes, my lady!" 

The two warriors moved as one, cutting and cleaving through the rotten rabble, until only their lifeless corpses remained. 

"I'll grab sleeping beauty over there," Winston gave the gruff one a little nod "You give the lady a hand." 

[hr] 

The group made camp in the forest, some miles from the ruins of Brittlepond.

After an hour or so of picking about the woodland, a fire was blazing, and a leg of un-tainted meat was gently roasting on a spit, flames softly licking at its tender flesh. 

"I saw some mental goings-on back in my day," Winston grunted, un-fastening the straps of his helmet and placing it down by his feet "But that was something else." 

"You're getting soft in your old age, you piss-head." Allistair teased with a worn out smirk.

"I'll deck you one if you're not careful, you blonde priss." Winston chuckled, tiredness clear on his face.

"Friend," Beaudriyah sat down next to Sir Tilson, regarding him with a soft smile "the one we found in the town looks to be bleeding out. Is there anything -at all-  you could do to aid him? I'm afraid that my skills might not be-" 

[b]"Well, look what we have here, lads!"[/b]

They appeared seemingly all at once, slipping out of the darkness, from behind the trunks  of trees, and sliding into view. 

Some were big, some small, but all were armour-clad and wielding weapons which they looked eager to use.

"Lord Giltplume will pay nicely for some clean flesh." Sneered one of the bandits, his face obscured by an orange bandanna. 

"Come smooth-like," Commanded another, pointing his cross-bow at Tilson "There's no need for us to start spilling blood without reason." 

[i]"There's too bloody many of them..."[/i] Allistair hissed beneath his breath, his eyes darting frantically from
figure-to-figure. 

One of the bandits nodded at Taranis.

"Your friend will be dead by morning. We have clean bandages and decent supplies at our camp. Lay down your weapons and I'll see what I can do about getting him patched up. No one do anything stupid, now. These are your lives you're gambling with." 

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