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The caravan had been on the road several days by now and the chatter of the people on stops had drifted more and more towards the next stop, Greenest. While smaller and probably much less profitable a stop when compared to something akin to Scornubel or Baldur's Gate, it still would provide them with much needed shelter if nothing else. The leader of the caravan, a human and a travelling cook that was called Addio especially looked forward to replenishing his supplies.

However, something was off. The evening sun was setting behind them, giving the sky a warm red tint, but that did little to explain the distinctively orange hue in the sky before them, these two sides divided by a small strip of dark night sky. As the caravan crept closer, they could see what was going on. The town was on fire with several columns of smoke slowly rising to the skies. To top it off, a dragon was circling above.

The caravan did not stop there, but approached just a little more before taking up the usual nighttime stop positions, with the wagons forming a circle and people gathering in the middle. "Travellers!" Addio addressed the caravan. "While the situation up there is significantly worse than expected, we cannot get any closer than this. If anyone wants to risk it and help the people, do that! I'll also need some help guarding the caravan in case they become interested in us... But I'll manage with the people I have on payroll. Any freelancers and such, go help the poor folk!" With that, the cook ran to his wagon to fetch his heavy crossbow to arm himself with, leaving the rest of the folk murmuring among themselves...

"Vir sulahn'nehn, vir dirthera. Vir samahl la numin, vir 'lath sa'vunin'."

Orchid sung the song of his people as she traveled with the caravan. He had found them not too long ago during his adventures, one of the few people who did not attack him immediately on sight. He had grown to like the group, even if he doesn't really know anyone well. Still they allow him to eat with them, fight for them, and they even give him shiny coins! He knew he needed coin to buy things since not everyone wanted his furs, so this suited Orchid just fine. The only thing he didn't like was how much alcohol the caravaneers had. Orchid never liked the smell or taste and felt that it was poison. Good to numb the pain or on cold days, but for stuff like that he'd rather have medicine and dry fur, respectively.

Orchid was sitting in a wagon sharpening his machete when the caravan was coming to a stop. He was somewhat surprised to see that they were camping right now; there was still plenty of sun left in the sky. Normally they didn't really set up camp until dark, unless... Unless there was trouble ahead. This made Orchid smile. While the half-orc was not what you'd call a "violent" man, he did enjoy a good fight. The blood, the fury, the clashing of steel and the screams of the fallen... It really awakened his wild side. Jumping out of the wagon Orchid went up to Addio, the caravan leader and cook, to listen what he had to say.

Addio said that something had gone bad up ahead, and Orchid could see what happened. Something was on fire and there was a dragon in the sky. Addio was even giving them the permission to go check it out instead of staying at the camp, though some could if they wanted to. Orchid took out his machete and raised it into the air, giving a hearty warcry. "Waaaaargh! Fight dragons!" Getting pumped up, Orchid waited to see who else was going with him. Even if he had to go alone Orchid wasn't going to let that stop him from running into the thick of things.

There had been many long days and longer nights yet that were the travels throughout this land, that of which Brannor was not familiar to in even the slightest. As foreign as it was, he had found himself drawn to it with a distant but almost compulsive pull, subtle enough for him to not be wary or fearful of its strangeness, but respectful enough to know it had some importance. The reward for the wanderer's answer to the call was, at first, nothing. Nothing but wandering deeper and closer to this town of Greenest until he found himself into it, but even then that did little to sate his lust for an answer. There had been a week of time, maybe longer, that he had been out and about the area that surrounded it; plains, forest, both more familiar than the town itself, but not the answer in the slightest.

It nagged at him, irritatingly enough.

But now was the time to return for well deserved rest, drink and other finer things that were not plentiful in nature; civilization had certain comforts that they were regularly privileged to, just as he was granted certain blessings of the wilderness. In either case, this pursuit led him to follow in the wake of a trade caravan that he had caught sight of earlier in the day. Their steady pace was easy enough to gain on, after all.

By coming twilight, as Brannor followed with dusted boots in their tracks, the sky beyond had increasingly darkened and the air smelled of distant ash. Intriguing the broad, tall man, he paid more mind now to what was before him, rather than to his side or behind. He had thought it was smoke on the horizon, but until now it made little sense, so little that he had initially disregarded it. The thought was, admittedly, a bit absurd until his golden eyes fell upon it themselves; it drew his pace to a slow walk now at a slight angle rather than the tail end of the caravan itself.

Smoke and fire, just as he had witnessed, but the town itself was what found itself in cinders. That all was ignoring the presence of a dragon, of which circled what had been all their goal.

They went for some time more, but the caravan's master wisely brought the entirety to a halt not too long after. Circling the wagons, he then addressed the gathering that formed in the middle while Brannor drew in from the outside. Stepping between the horses, one of whom his sizable hand patted on the thick of the beast's neck, he edged the exterior of the crowd; leather-bound greatsword sheathed across his back clinking against his chain and hide garb. From here, he listened in, hearing out the man who had been leading this travel it seemed. From his call to arms, Brannor shook his head; he hated to agree that something should be done, dragon and all, but it was a risk someone better equipped for this should do.

A large, lone blade rose to the air in a quick thrust as a man of orcish blood rallied in excitement, providing a warcry.

"Waaaaargh! Fight dragons!"

Brannor had started to slip between the small gathering, drawing closer to the front while people murmured and muttered. Shouldering gently here and there, he found himself to the side of the orc, who looked around in eagerness for companions; the two shared a brief exchange of glares and there wasn't anything that needed to be said for both had the same intent. Regardless of that, the large man, dressed in wanderer's clothes, came to a halt, a silver pendant of a tiger's snarling visage upon his neck.

"I might not be part of your group," Brannor looked to Addio with a nod, "But I am willing to help you and them."

The traveler's life was truly off the beaten path. What became her greatest fear became the most loyal of all comrades. Yet she found herself beneath the shelter of a rattling caravan-- (6) flute piercing the silent crowd. "Don't you want to play among these people... Love?" Her gaze fixated upon the plainly crafted Flute. Her thoughts traveled to its past... Walking among the fertile grove of her village with another girl lulling a memorable hum; hands held interconnected with one another.

The caravan's halt, followed by what could be heard as a dragon's cry awakened the hunter from her trance.

The circled caravans signified a break in their travels followed by the instructions of the Carriage Master Addio and his compatriot the Cook. He stood in the center of the circle. "Travellers!" He drew the attention of the people. "While the situation up there is significantly worse than expected, we cannot get any closer than this. If anyone wants to risk it and help the people, do that! I'll also need some help guarding the caravan in case they become interested in us... But I'll manage with the people I have on payroll. Any freelancers and such, go help the poor folk!"

It was a call for help. What could be the reward for undertaking such a suicidal task? She pondered, a hand gripping the handle of her longbow strung across her back. She'd definitely offer her services if it wasn't because of the lack of volunteers to help her save the villagers-- it'd surely be a thrilling experience to attempt and bring down a dragon along but it was far too dangerous. "Waaaaargh! Fight dragons!" The crazed cry of the half-orc was heard. It certainly increased their odds of success; though not by much. She hung herself still from the crowd.

"I might not be part of your group, but I am willing to help you and them." Another able-bodied man donning traveler's clothes and a mighty greatsword followed after the half-orc offering his services of brawn and muscle. The odds were much higher now that there were more people she could be with. Her feet found itself to arriving by the human's shoulder, flute in her hand.

"Consider my bow hired for this task. I am known as Trear, a Hunter of Solonor Thelandira." She sets her flute to pouch specifically designed to hold it in place on her side. "Hunting dragons isn't my forte, but soon will be."

There was nothing better than the life of an adventurer. Sure being wealthy or powerful may be the biggest things people want, but that just meant being an adventurer was the best way to get it. Not to mention all the new places they go to, new people they meet, and interesting things they find. Parum was certainly enjoying it. She had joined this caravan at the last town they stopped at, offering her services as a caravan guard as well as a spell caster. Also, she played the viol for some extra coin on the side, earning her a meager 10 gold thus far. While not enough to buy anything luxurious, it would be enough for a stay at an inn with a good meal and a bath.

Parum hasn’t really been able to develop much of an opinion on the others, aside from the fact that they are fairly interesting characters in their own right, though a bit… Cliche. The half-orc was a half-dressed barbarian, which didn’t surprise Parum in the slightest. There was an aasimar who was a paladin and, based off how her armor was designed, must be of noble birth. Only someone with high social status would have the money to buy armor as stylish as hers, even if it looked like gutted platemail. The wood elf was a ranger who Parum marked as an entertainer of sorts based off her possessions, and the halfling was interested in trying to organize a performance with her one day. Then there was the human with the big sword, who Parum assumed was just a mercenary or traveling warrior. He did seem… Off in a way, but Parum had no real clue what this meant. She hopes to find out soon.

Aside from them there were the caravan master and his helpers. They were hospitable enough, offering the food when it was dinner time and allowing her to sit in the wagon when the road was long. They were, if nothing else, professionals. As such they made sure to leave the jobs of protecting the caravan to hired hands and those willing to fight, and made careful consideration when heading into danger. Such as when Addio, the leader of the caravan, stopped them and formed a protective wagon circle. It was strange at first, but Parum quickly figured out what was going on simply by looking into the sky; smoke in the distance and a dragon in the sky.

Addio didn’t even need to ask for volunteers when Parum stepped off the wagon. Of course by the time she got there, three others had already showed up. The half-orc, the warrior, and the elf. ”I should probably figure out what their names are...” Parum said to herself when she stepped up to the group. Compared to the others who looked like grizzled warriors, Parum looked like a dainty actress, what with her faux armor being no more effective than a leather shirt, and instead of a sword or other weapon in hand, Parum had her viol. It also didn’t help that because she was a halfling, she was absolutely child-like next to the others. Yet she stood as one of the valiant heroes because she knew the caravan needed someone to investigate the village ahead. And the chance to meet a live dragon up close wasn’t something that Parum would pass up.

”Count me in! My name is Parum, and I’ll accompany you to save the village and find out why the dragon is here.”

As the group of people murmured among themselves, the group that formed around the Half-Orc was not the only one. A group of minstrels that had entertained the caravan on many breaks had pulled masks and vicious looking curved swords from their wagon and formed a circle, chanting something in a language foreign to most around them while bumping their fists together and otherwise getting ready for the challenge that might rise. Many guards were fastening the straps of their helmets and checking the state of their weapons and a fortune teller with their apprentice had moved a little distance away with both of them flinging firebolts into the air for practice. Addio's words had apparently sparked the spirit to help in others as well.

While some began to withdraw into their wagons, the groups that had readied up to help the villagers and fight began their approach towards the town in flames. The half-moon that was barely visible over the setting sun and the smoke did very little to give vision for the people approaching or within the town, but the fire did provide dim light all over Greenest. The dragon's threatening shape in the sky occasionally made a swoop at something, but never finished it, giving the appearance of it toying with it's prey.

The group of minstrels chose their approach route to be a smaller road on the northern side of the town, while the fortune teller's gang went for the shallow streambed to begin with, leaving the main road for the last crew approaching. The street was empty now, with the houses around it surprisingly well preserved... most of the fire only touching haystacks and barns. That had not stopped doors from being kicked in of the three nearby empty looking houses.

"Waaaargh! Get ready, fight dragon, make new stuff!" Announcing his intentions to everyone within shouting range, Orchid went back to the wagon he was in to retrieve the rest of his equipment. While everyone was preparing, Orchid took out his harpoons and started to tie ropes onto them. If he was going to fight a dragon, he'd need to be able to keep up with it. While he knew he lacked the strength to stop a dragon in flight, with these harpoons he could at least latch onto it and fight it if it tried to run away. Or die trying. Either was good for him. He checked his other equipment as well, such as his trusty hatchet, his knife, his shield, extra rope, and his backpack. He left most of the other stuff behind, such as his bedroll and mess kit, since he didn't think he'd need them soon.

Orchid came back just in time before the others left, and he was one of the few to take point. Some of the others from the caravan went around to other entrances in the village, but Orchid decided to go through the main road. Oddly enough, none of the houses were on fire, just the hay and some barns. Orchid didn't think much of it though, figuring that the dragon had just started his attack. While things were fairly dark and obscure, Orchid's natural darkvision allowed him to see most of the village, and only the smoke got in his way. He watched the skies carefully if the dragon decided to swoop down, a harpoon in hand ready to fling at the beast once he came near.

But Orchid also kept his senses sharp for anything else in the streets. He did note that it was quiet. Too quiet; if a dragon was rampaging, he was expecting panicking villagers, people dying and on fire, and the stench of death in the air. But Orchid sensed none of this, not yet anyways. And in addition to the fact that only specific parts of the village was on fire, Orchid was being careful. Well, as careful as Orchid wants to be. "Hello? Who here? No one dead?" He said loudly, as if expecting a responds as he approached the village with the others. He listened and watched carefully, looking for something. Anything.

There had been no doubt before that the orc and himself could be of ample use to the people of Greenest, but a faint grin tugged the edge of his stubbled jaw at the pledge of an elven huntress whose lithe hand pocketed her humble flute to her side, the instrument sliding as easily as a honed dagger to its companion sheath. She introduced herself as "Trear" with a particular confidence to her person, adding after that the dragon would become one of the things she hunted following this turn of events. It was at this time Brannor removed his golden eyes from his shoulder where the bronze wood elf had come to idle next to, moving the fingers of one sizable hand to the wedges between the other, settling the thick fingerless leather gloves he wore.

A soft voice caught his keen ears despite the idle chatter of people preparing themselves, lending him pause enough and turn about to witness a small woman approach, stepping up to the group of outdoorsmen. For all the softness and delicateness of her frame and the fact she bore no real armor, she had a dedication and interest that lingered in her blue eyes.

”Count me in! My name is Parum, and I’ll accompany you to save the village and find out why the dragon is here.”

Brannor was not the most intelligent of men, wiser than most he knew, but he too knew better than to dare judge anything by appearance alone; the halfling's lot were a fearless, noble hearted sort, skilled enough too compared to most other folk. So it came not as a shock to see that she pledged herself to aiding Greenest as well. The beast of a man knew not what she was capable of, his orcish and elven company clear enough so, but he was not about to turn down another companion when facing down a dragon's game.

"Good." The man remarked contently with a rumble to his voice.

"Waaaargh! Get ready, fight dragon, make new stuff!"

And the orc was off, setting himself to stocking his supplies - only those essential - and returning not too much longer thereafter. In the time between however, the man was content to run the silver surface of the necklace's pendant between his fingers, mulling over the dull glow of the firelight that was the town and the swooping of the dragon's outline that silhouetted like a ghost in the ash from time to time. The caravan was alive with activity despite the man's apparent idleness, many languages and even a chant of some strange tongue incited other troupes.

It was, in its own way, comforting to know that these men and women were not content to let the ill hour consume others, let alone them.

By the time they set on their travel, leading the incursion and headed by the orc warrior, Brannor drew up the tremendous blade that had rested across his back from the loop that carried it. The greatsword, bound about the crossguard and hilt, bore worn brown leather and strange, crude engravings up the latter half of its fuller and likely under the binding; it was a sizable weapon, even for the man who bore it, but he held it with comfortable strength in one hand as they approached the town, the other remaining free for the time being. Both moon and sun lit the sky ever so faintly, but the mixture of ambient firelight and darkness proved not too great an issue.... for now.

"Strange..." Brannor's voice came under his breath as he followed behind the orc, witnessing the lack of townsfolk and the containment of fire. Either the dragon seemed to have remarkable aim or something odd was afoot; owing to either case, the hackles of the man were raised and he slowly shifted the tremendous sword into both hands, the travelling fall of his boots becoming lighter on the dusted earth.

"Hello? Who here? No one dead?"


Try as he might, the illusions of the smoke and flames, made searching the town through sight alone a difficult matter, attention drifting wherever the orc before him was not; a tactic not unknown to hunters of some experience. All the same, Brannor strove to open his other senses, to call upon smell and sound more than any other where his eyes failed him, but as odd as things were here now in Greenest, he wondered if at all there would be any result to these efforts.

"Seems the dragon might not be alone." His deep tone uttered to those behind him, looking to both Parum and Trear, noting the strangeness that the doors had seemingly been broken down.

@Hekazu@Lucius Cypher@VKAllen@Ryonara

It seemed like the caravan master's call for arms awakened the adventurous spirit in the others. Not only was Parum and the other three going to accompany her, but some deep gnomes and other guardsmen as well. Parum was a bit concerned that they should leave some here, but surely they wouldn't leave the caravan completely defenseless. There was some time before everyone was going to set out, so Parum checked her gear. She left behind the nonessential, taking only things such as rope, weapons, armor, and of course her viol. Parum drew her rapier and with a flick of her wrist, a string slide down the back of the blade and onto a hook just at the tip of the rapier, turning the sword into a viol bow. Parum spent her time tuning her viol to ensure that it had the best quality for music and spellcasting. If she was going to fight a dragon, she was going to put on a great performance.

Once she was done everyone was just about ready to leave. Parum sheathed her rapier and put her viol away, chasing after the group. She was small, so she occasionally lagged behind, but she kept up nonetheless. The other bigger people like the half-orc and warrior had taken point, and Parum tried to catch up with them. Once they were at Greenest Parum definitely noticed something was off. In the distance beyond the smoke, she could see barns and hay bales on fire, but none of the other buildings. It wasn't as if they were all made of stone either; some seemed quite flammable, but empty. The half-orc shouted out questions which nearly made Parum want to put a hand over his mouth. This entire situation screamed ambush to her. "Ssh! Be quiet! There might be others here, raiders or looters." Parum said in a hush voice.

She noticed three buildings near by that looked empty, but had their doors forced open. It certainly seemed like they've been raided by brigands, but Parum still found the lack of anyone here odd. "Hmm. Maybe the villagers already knew about the dragon coming and left the village in advance. If the dragon also knew this, he would have no reason to burn down the homes knowing there was no one inside... Though the type of dragon who'd burn down a village might not really care if people were inside or not... And I don't remember running into any villagers while we traveled through here. Surely one of them would have come our way and warned us." Parum said to herself. Those buildings seemed suspicious, so she tried to sneak over to them and get a look inside.

Seemingly drawn in by the shouting of the party, a group of people rushed across the street, only to have one of them trip and fall on their face. The biggest one of the group instantaneously turned around to help them, lifting them up despite his obviously bleeding injuries. Now that the party could have a clear look at this group, it became evident that this was a family on the run. A father and three children.

Not long after followed a woman that had armed themselves with a shield and a somewhat broken spear. While injured, she was in an unmistakably better condition than her supposed husband and judging by her unwillingness to drop her guard towards the direction she had approached from, was not the last one to arrive on the street. And indeed, soon enough a pack of eight Kobolds came to view, slowly approaching the humans, snarling and making threatening moves every time any of the humans tried to move.

The Hunter's instincts controlled her graceful approach of the main entrance-- almost without thought. Hazed visions of smoke and the dragon's flickering shade alerted her caution sight. Streets were barren, roads were clear of corpses. It was a strange, eluding sight. No homes were crackling with fire-- only dried bales of hay and wooden barns were set alight. A quick assessment of such strange behaviour determined that the dragon is not alone.

Her hands gripped over the handle of her trusty bow, arrows drawn as she surveyed the current area for potential hostiles among the area-- her focus seemingly clouding the sounds of other creatures nearby her as the ground was followed by hurried footsteps of a man with his children-- with an armed woman guarding the man's flank. Trear drew her bow, notching the arrow between the strings and trailed its crux towards the group. The kobolds came into view; snarling and darting at the woman. The instincts overwhelmed her as the trailed hand points towards the snarling Kobold and her other released the arrow into flight.

(Ready in action Strike - Longbow - Cumulative of 20)
(Damage - Piercing - 6)
(Presumed Initiative - 12)

Footsteps.

Footsteps were things Orchid knew well. He has lived in the forest long enough to know the difference between footsteps and animal steps. And while he couldn't be certain of the number or race, Orchid knew someone was coming. he readied his harpoon to hurl at the enemy if they showed hostility. But instead of an enemy, it was a family. A grown human adult with three smaller humans, who Orchid vaguely remembered were called children. Soon a woman arrived with a shield and spear, and Orchid nearly hurled his harpoon at her assuming she was an enemy. But she didn't face them, instead facing the direction they came from. Orchid was confused until things became clear a few seconds later; they were being chased by Kobolds.

Orchid didn't know much about Greenest. He didn't know if Kobolds were native to this area or possibly the main inhabitants of this town. Perhaps they were defending themselves against this lone woman the only way weak kobolds could; by getting into a large group and swarming the enemy. He didn't know where the man and the children came into the picture, but Orchid wasn't one for overthinking. Right now things were pretty simple to him: This woman was defending this man and the small ones from the gang of kobolds. Kobolds are like miniature, weaker dragons, which would mean they probably are working for the larger, far stronger dragon flying somewhere in the sky. So to Orchid, they were his enemy.

"'Ere we go 'ere we go 'ere we go!" Orchid chanted as he charged up to the kobolds, getting to about twenty-feet to the closest one. He then hurled his harpoon right at the closest Kobold. It was one of the harpoons Orchid had prepped to spear the dragon, but he was fine with using it against the kobolds. After he threw his harpoon Orchid took out his machete, holding his broad blade bushwhacker with both hands. "Fight me and die!"

There was a familiar scent to the air, familiar yet foreign enough to not immediately have called out to Brannor's thoughts - the rest of the scene that had become Greenest a worthy distraction - but the moment he came to realize what it was, it was only making more sense. Efforts to burn the tiny, humble abodes had been made, yet whoever had been responsible failed to properly ignite them; fortunate that proved to be, in part. Slowing slightly, fingers flexing about the grip of the mighty greatsword in anticipation, he heard the onset of running feet that drew ever closer by the moment, all of which found themselves in a small group.

It was as he had hoped, not raiders or thieves, but fleeing townsfolk - man and children, followed by a woman who brandished a battered shield and splintered spear. The man roused one of the children who had collapsed, scooping them up from the earthen intersection that had crossed the band and Brannor's path. Attentive to his surroundings, the man's strong, golden eyes flashed to the elf who, in one fluid motion, drew up her bow and knocked an arrow.

She had heard it too... in fact, all of the hunters seemed to.

The mob of eight or so kobolds, shrouded in the ash, smoke and flames of what one could only assume was their doing, snarled and menaced. They seemed to be what the people moments earlier were fleeing from, having only been held back from overwhelming the escapees by the spear bearing woman. Even now, as the two groups set eyes on one another, they threatened at the slightest of movements like a pack of rabid mongrels.

An exhale came, the amalgamation of chain, hide and leather armor that rested upon the man's breast depressing ever so slightly; there was no doubt about the conviction he could feel in the thunder that now was his heart's beat - it was a fury, a hungering one. The sensation was a rush, a lust to beat back the darkness that bloomed from these creatures' nature and it filled his blood with the want to strike out.

So he did.


@Hekazu@Lucius Cypher@VKAllen@Ryonara

Parum was surprised to see people coming around the corner. That at least disprove her theory that they all left before the dragon attacked. When kobold came running around the corner Parm already had her viol and rapier out, though she wanted to try avoid a fight. But while she wanted that, the two other members of the party already struck, sending an arrow and harpoon at some unfortunate kobolds. Fighting wasn't really Parum’s forte, but she wasn't just going to stand there either!

Putting the string against her viol, Parum played a quick tune before pointing her rapier at the kobolds, making them the target of her spell. As she did so she called out to them in draconic. “Majak svern vur wux nomag waph! Wux shilta ti charis ekess gjahall udoka!” As she did so, a fearsome looking demon appeared beside her, wielding vicious scimitars in each of its four arms. But Parum didn’t use any summoning spells because she didn’t know any like that. What she actually did was making a minor illusion of a scary demon she saw in a book once, hoping to convince the kobolds to surrendering.

From what could be called a warrior's stillness from coming to know his enemy face to face, the broad man with rough tawny hair then sprung to life; the leather creases of his folded traveler's boots shifting as their soles dug into the earth beneath him. His motion was a lunge and a onslaught with the rapidity of a bolt, all at an unusual swiftness for a mercenary looking sort of his size and build, muscular and armored in chain and animal hide as he was. The binding of the great blade set in both mighty hands, the first fearsome swing came at the nearest kobold in an arcing, upward slash that leveraged the momentum and stature of its bearer and the rush of the charge itself; the steel bite of the weapon reached out, hoping that the small, reptilian figure was neither swift or lucky.


To the outlander, he hoped his frightening display of prowess would steal their focus; if the kobolds were going to find anything the most desirable target, he wished for it to be him rather than some peasant folk, children and a battle-weary woman. Better yet, he knew the orc would soon enough would join the fray, creating yet another living wall of steel and wrath as arrows, perhaps een magic, would strike from afar. The greater goal after all was to liberate the town, but for now?

Brannor would settle on evening the score against what seemed to be the dragon's peons.

@Hekazu@Lucius Cypher@VKAllen@Ryonara

The woman only had the time to glance fearfully at the approaching charge from her left, before Ashkar was already slicing away at the nearest Kobold. As the target of the fearsome assault nearly managed to dodge out of the way her expression began to shift from utter terror to worry, but the great blade did find it's place in the little creature's torso, causing the scaly creature to fall limp. The blade did not quite cleave the poor thing in two, but it was evident that it would not be rising up any more.

Soon after, it was Parum's turn to keep on the offensive as she employed different tactics from the brute force that had been shown by the previous combatant. The spell she cast did not go quite as how they had planned however, as the cantrip struggled to build what was requested from it, forming a mere five foot tall midget of a demon with equally small blades. To top it off, it was seemingly built of dyed parchment. Her words of draconic did manage to draw the attention of the group of kobolds, most of which now showed reluctance in fighting... but this was mostly contained by one of the adversaries at the back shouting a reply: "Ekess slathalin usv ehaism khru marfedelom, yth shilta ti chian darastrix usjalil!" This seemed to rouse their fighting spirits somewhat, but a few still dropped their daggers in favour of slings.

Trear had a reply of her own to this exchange of words she could not understand, that being an arrow in the face of one of the more cowardly kobolds that happened to stand in the relative front towards the group. Piercing the creature's head neatly just behind it's eyes, the arrow remained sticking out from both sides of the poor creatures cranium. Needless to say the lizard could not take it as it hunched over, threw up, and fell the rest of the way down. It didn't move afterwards.

And of course, Orchid was not one to be left out of a fight, rushing towards the enemy much like Ashkar had done a second or two before him. They had not planned on going as far as his companion though, and stopped 10 feet short to throw their makeshift harpoon at the opposition. The throw was also one to find its mark, nailing one of the unfortunate members of the front row into the ground. As the kobold stared at the stick pointing out of their stomach in disbelief, just before falling limp, it could hear the call of the horrific green thing that had slain it: "Fight me and die!"

That encouragement happened to be all the rest of the kobolds needed to get their act together and retaliate. The remaining five of the attacking group turned the fight towards the approaching one and a few signs were exchanged before the pack started it's retaliating assault. A pair made their way to Ashkar, the first one slicing at his leg and the second using the distraction to jab their dagger at his guts. Bot of them landed their strikes, releasing waves of pain into the warrior. Simultaneously the third and final kobold to wield a dagger jumped at Orchid's face, screaming incoherently. The blade sank into the half-orcs flesh near his shoulder and while it didn't seem to hit anything too drastic, the hit stung, especially when coupled with a rock into the face that flew from somewhere when the first kobold was leaping! The final kobold seemingly released a rock from it's sling as well, but the shot went wide and flew right next to the illusion of a "demon" Parum had summoned.

The commoner could not hide her gratefulness, but used this time to take a few steps back and ready her spear in case any of the kobolds would soon make a move at her family.

The first of the attacking pair was the fortunate one, for if there were to be any kobolds to live slightly longer, this particular small reptilian figure was to be one. The dagger that bit across the hide of the savage man's armored leg ground roughly against the steel and flesh lying beneath; Brannor cared not for that particular injury, but the next one he took great pride in as he led the other attacker into the funnel. It was now he stepped back, shunting the much smaller figure behind him out of the way to create foot room all the while seemingly unhindered by his fresh wound.

The oncoming kobold set to plunge his dagger into the man's abdomen had already made his fatal flaw of following the armsman's feint. He would score his blow, but at the cost of what was undoubtedly to be his life...


The weight of the greatsword and its wielder came in at a brutal angle, set to drop the center of the tremendous sword's edge and the man's great muscle into a stroke below the kobold's neck and across the center of its chest; the previously bloodied weapon seemed to hunger only more as Brannor exhaled a deep, almost snarled breath with the motion. The sting of their blades, not unalike those of petty insects, awoke the adrenaline within and filled him with the thrill of the righteous hunt. Still of clear enough mind, he knew the orc was preoccupying the rest based upon the yelling back and forth, the loosing of arrows and words of magic power and conflict itself; he would join them soon enough.

Pivoting, carrying up and out the ferocious strike, he turned to face the first kobold who could witness the savagery in the man's golden eyes. The thin dagger wounds, both low where only small limbs could reach, trickled with glinting blood in the firelight, but certainly were not as promising as the pair of kobolds would have hoped...

He provided a hunter's smile to the kobold.

@Hekazu@Lucius Cypher@VKAllen@Ryonara

The heavy blow strikes the intended target along their spine, causing a sickening crunch to be released into the air before the blade began cutting it's way through the scaly hide of the creature. This time the cleave went all the way through, leaving two halves of a kobold onto the dirt road next to Ashkar. The other creature flipped their dagger around in their hand and responded to the ferocious smile with a hiss, before turning it's eyes towards the common folk...

Parum cursed that her tactic failed. Well, it seemed like a fight was on their hands anyways. The kobolds seemed demoralized for a short while until one of them shouted something about as dragon lady. “Could that be the dragon who attacked the village?” Parum made a mental note to try and question on of them later.

She saw a few of the kobolds go after the warrior and the orc. They both ended up getting hit by the kobolds, and Parum wasn't going to let them fall here. She focused her attention to one of the kobolds in the back who were using slings, the one who missed, and casted Vicious Mockery (Wisdom Save 13) on it as she played a sharp tune from her Viol.

“Jitra re throdenilt versel loupon wux! Vur wux wielga svadrav wux jahen vi vrantvrak!"

The mockery laced with magic stung at the creatures mind. While the words would have been irrelevant to the creature, being used to such language from their superiors, there was this little something the bard's magic did to cause the words to bring anger out. "Wux...", they barked out in response and began readying their sling for another attack with shaky hands.