The human ranger turns and runs toward the other end of the caravan.

The dwarf Keegan looks around and says, "Looks like all the fun is going on at the other end of the caravan. Boorman! Flint! Let's go see if there is anything worth fighting against."

He trots past the other two dwarves not even sparing a glance for the exhausted guard.

One dwarf wipes off his pick on the ground and turns to view the ongoing carnage. He asks, "Where did all these wolves come from?" without waiting for an answer, he strides off behind his companion. On the way, he mutters something about wolf pelts.

Flint looks around and snorts, "First ants, now wolves, when is the real fight going to begin?" He turns to the tired guard and says, "Get off your lazy arse and join us otherwise you're cooking tonight." He starts trotting along with the others.

The guard sighs and says, "Five more trips and I could have retired, got a freakin home, wife, kids!" He voice rises as he goes along, "And now this shit happens! What the hell is wrong with you people!"

He forces himself up and mutters quietly to himself, "If I'd know this was going to happen I would have taken my money and spent it on better armor." He looks down at his leather shirt and his badly battered long sword, "I could use a new weapon or two as well." He starts walking behind the others, "Wait a minute what happened to the merchant?"

He begins cursing, "This was a complete waste. He paid more than most of the other merchants combined! If he's dead then this was a free flipping trip and I'm worse off than when I started."

He pauses to look at the white haired guard take aim and fire, "Hey you! Just make sure you don't hit me with those things!" before continuing on.

The white haired guard moves forward a bit closer to the carnage and is busy trying to find a target and not hit any of the others to hear the warning. "Die you gray skinned varmints!" He lets an arrow fly and it streaks right past his intended target to hit another. It is only a glancing hit, but the wolf recoils from it just the same.

The wolves have decided to attack without mercy. Unfortunately even though there numbers are smaller, they have two advantages that make them more dangerous than the ants. They are faster and more manuverable than the ants ever were.

The rough looking guard and the minstrel are surrounded by wolves who snap and growl at them as the pair try and keep the wolves at bay. The music maker draws two of his daggers and lets one of them fly. The wolf tries to dodge but to no avail as the dagger slams into its haunch. The wolf whimpers and it tries to remove the offending object. A moment later the second dagger flies cutting into its neck. This one hits a major artery and begins to gush blood. The wolf whimpers as it tries to get away slowly.

Unfortunately these two good shots, leaves the minstrel him open as a wolf blind sides him bearing him down. He raises a protective arm as the wolf begins to maul him.

The rough looking guard has problems of his own as he tries to keep one wolf at bay and another shows up to his right he tries to keep them at bay but is tiring quickly.
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The mage brandishes his magic wand and once again a streak of light leaps from its tip and streaks unerringly toward the wolf, slamming into its head. The wolf slows to a walk wavers unsteadiily then falls to its side lying still.

But it matters little, as two more wolves leap over their fallen packmate and charge the mage.

One suddenly stumbles sideways as an arrow from the white haired guard slams into it. The wolf turns in upon itself and savagely bites at the shaft of the arrow trying to remove the offending object. The other wolf, either not realizing or caring that its partner has been hit, charges and leaps at the mage.

The mage decides retreat is the better part of valor and tries to dodge and run at the same time. He trips on his robes and drops his wand, which falls through the air spinning to land in the grass nearby. The wolf is on the mage within moments.

The wolf is used to close combat, fighting with tooth and nail, but the wolf is not prepared for the headbutt it receives from the enraged mage that nearly breaks its lower jaw. Abandoning all vestiges of civility, the mage begins physically attacking the wolf that is attacking him! And surpisingly the mage somehow seems to be doing more damage to the wolf than the wolf is doing to him!

The archer with the bow made of bone takes careful aims and fires again at the wolves charging him. The arrow slices through the air, trailing thunder in its wake, cutting a deep gash along the side of one wolf and missing another. The hurt wolf slows its charge but continues to advance. Soon it is too close for the amber haired elf to draw another arrow but both are surprised at what happens next.

Something catches the archers' eye as he spots a streak of fire from the corner of his eye. Battle honed instincts tell him that something nasty is coming and he jumps back just as a flaming arrow slams into the ground in front of him, between him and the wolf. He looks up to see the human ranger being passed by a trio of dwarves, the ranger is readying another arrow.

And much to the surprise of the archer, the ranger is pointing the bow at him as he says, "Why are you attacking these creatures when they have not done anything to you?"

As the creatures fly away, Feldemaan Boreal watches the creatures fly away committing every little detail to memory.

As the creatures appear to vanish in the distance. Many turn to look at the mage who was the focus of their attention.

Realizing that he is the source of so much attention he thinks quickly. "You all look like you just saw a couple of Dragons or something! Oh wait", he chuckles.

"I guess you did! Who would've thought that flying lizards would recognize style when they see it!" the elf remarks lightly as he adjusts the calculated tilt of his wide brimmed hat just so.

Noticing the look on every ones face, he again comments in a light tone, trying to lighten the situation, "What's wrong with you guys?"

Voreas, now completely recovered, stands up and looks around surveying the battlefield. He does a quick check to see how many men he has left, "Eight men, plus the elf woman and the crazy ranger" he thinks to himself, silently dissapointed at the number of men he lost.

He thanks the soldier for helping him up and takes a few steps before the world goes blurry and he stumbles. After a moment he recovers his composure.

Voreas looks around and sees Pyros talking animately with the crazy ranger, "figures".
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Pyros compliments the ranger; "you rode that ant pretty good for an elf."

"That’s because I am good" the ranger replies. "What happened here? What did you do to cause the ants to attack you?"

"Ants schmats, they attack anyone." Pyros shrugs off the battle as unimportant, "So you're good are you? Have you ever danced in the inferno? I have and it was fun!"

The conversation quickly degenrates into a bragging contest between the two. No one can be quite sure if they are making it up, but there is one who recognizes a few of Zraxin's boasts from their short time together, so at least part of what he says is true.
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Voreas also sees the young woman who came to his rescue...and who also knocked him out. He watches as she approaches Feldemaan and he moves gestures for the soldier to join him. Along the way he collects his pikeman. He calls for Pyros but the priest seems to be distracted and neither the ranger nor the priest notices him.

The elvin woman approaches Feldemaan and says, "I am Asura of House Heavenstar. I'll stand with you, let's go help your friends."

"That's good Asura of House Heavenstar." Comes a voice from behind her. The commander appears with a few soldiers in tow and says, "You have some skill and a powerful magic sword that could be useful. He touches his head where there is a large red bump, "If you could control it a little better."

The young lady looks more than a little bit embarrased.

The commander introduces himself, "I am Seargent Voreas of the Allied Army. I thank you for your assitance. If the rest of the trip is like this then I think we shall need it."

Feldemaan looks around the recent battlefield, and then back to each of the surviving members of the group as the archers also move in close. "Seriously though, I'm not sure what to make of this encounter. While I have traveled quite a bit, and I do know quite a few people, there are few that know me well enough to seek me out in times of peril. And none of those have friends such as those two." He gestures in the direction the creatures vanished into.

"I think it best to investigate, but I must admit that as much as the idea of being summoned by such magnificent creatures appeals to me, it is entirely possible that they were mistaken in their findings. There must, after all, be another elf with style out there somewhere." He again adopts the lighter tone, "Much less style of course, but style nonetheless."

"Don't be so sure it's you they are after man! Nice to meet you young lady, my name is Ulqik." A tall lanky but well-muscled elf with a deep tan and a soldier with the mace approach.

Asura frowns at him and a fleeting though passes through her mind that except in the company of Torana he is the only other elf she has seen with a tan. She plans to ask him something, but the though flies from her head as he walks up and kisses her hand.

"I heard them." Ulqik says, "And if it is not you. Then I think I know who they are after. And if it is him then it is imperative that we get to the Tower quickly for I must warn him."

Voreas looks around at what remains of his command. For the first time letting emotion touch his feature as his sadness is reflected in his eyes, "First, we clog up that ant hill, then we bury the dead. And then we go tend to whatever awaits us up north. If they are truly in danger then as the creature said those friends of yours can hold out till nightfall. We are only a league away, we can make it long before then. Today you have fought your first battle as a team! Yes, we suffered many losses but we have emerged victorious. And we must hurry to save others who may not be as lucky as we are. Pyros! Get over here and help us." The fire priest again ignores him and Voreas begins to wonder what was the purpose of having him come along in the first place if he is going to be completely useless.

Ulqik, the soldier with the mace, the soldier with the long sword and an archer help to dig graves, while Asura, Vores and an archer fill the ant hill in. The rest gather up the bodies.

Pyros and Zraxin have settled in and are telling obviously tall tales by the time the real work is done. Voreas walks over and stands between them and says, "Pyros! We have injured who require your attention!"

The fire priest shrugs and says, "They are hurt because they need more practice in battle. They lack the spark needed to bring out their greatness in battle." He gets up and looks around completely ignoring his own wounds which seem to be nearly as grave any anyone elses. The ranger also seems to care little for his wounds.

"Since you are here, then you'll be here first." Pyros smiles wickedly.

Pyros examines Voreas wounds and shakes his head. "This is very very serious. It requires strooong medicine!"

Voreas protests, "Check the men first, I'll be fine..."

Zraxin looks around and nods at Asura. He turns to Voreas and says, "You must be Voreas, the commander of this group. My name is Zraxin. Pyros tells me you'll be heading toward Torana's Tower. Since you'll be heading along my patrol route and your men are in need of skilled assistance, I will escort you there. It has been a while since I have been in the company of men. I think I can handle it for a short while."

Voreas accepts the offer, "Thank you. We are grateful for the assistance."

Pyros starts pulling up some of the grasses and soon has a large mound ready. He lights the mound up with the flame from his sword and gathers the injured around it. "Lord Enerius! Brilliant, Searing, Majestic one! The fastest, strongest, and most persistant spark to have ever been spawned from your greatness asks your permission to show these slow dull-witted, inept fools the purifying flame so that their bodies may heal and perhaps your energies may revitalize them and pull them out of their morass of sloth!"

As he speaks several of those start to get a little nervous especially when the flame startes changing colors. But they don't have time to do anything about it as when he finishes his speech, the flames erupt upwards, then explode outwards overwhelming everyone around. More than one person screams out in surprise as the flames surround and engulf them.

It is a strange feeling being healed by a priest of Enerius. For the uninitiated it is unlike anything they could have ever imagined. In the first few moments the healing fire runs through their entire body. It quite literally feels as if the flame has set every fiber of their being on fire! If feels as if they are being consumed by the flame from the inside out! First the arms and legs then the torso and finally the head! Then nothing...just pure and absolute silence.

"Am I dead? I must be. I was on fire and now there is nothing. I must have died. But then what is this place?" He hears voices. He tries to concentrate on the voices they sound...familiar. He opens his eyes and looks over to see Pyros and Zraxin back in their bragging session. Each is trying to outdo the other. "I'm not dead. Either that or I'm in trouble!" He looks around and spots Ulqik sitting down cleaning his swords.

Ulqik looks at him and says, "Ah Damion, your awake! I've had my wounds healed by priests of the elements before. I know what a tramautic expereience it can be!"

Damion, the soldier with the mace, lifts himself up on one arm and looks around. Slowly, Voreas, Asura, and the pikeman wake up and try and rise to their feet. The two archers stare upward into space with horrified expressions on their face. They are conscious but seem to reliving a horrible memory. It seems he isn't the only one who was unprepared for the power of the fire priest.

Damion looks himself over and sees that his injuries have been healed. In fact everyone seems to have been healed!

Voreas recovering from his shock quickly, checks on the two archers seeing that they are fine he begins barking orders. "Okay men it's time to break camp." He looks up at the sun, judging the time until sunset. "If we leave now we should make it with plenty of time", he thinks.

After traveling most of a league they see what looks to be a caravan under attack. As they get closer they get a better idea of what is going on. To the rear of the caravan in another anthill, bodies of guards and ants alike litter the battlefield. The area near the anthill is strangely quiet and no ants seem to be moving. One of the carriages has been turned over and the front carriage with the horses seems to be missing.

The sounds of battle are mixed in with the howls of a wolfpack and the occassional boom of thunder from a clear sky.

Upon closer inspection, it seems that the battle is concentrated at the head of the caravan as the rest of the area is littered only with the dead and dying. Oddly enough despite the presence of the anthill no ants seem to be involved in the fighting. However the surviors of the caravan seem to be outnumbered and nearly overwhelmed by of all things a pack of wolves.

Even as they approach wolves are savaging two guards, while one is trying to keep two more wolves at bay. Oddly enough two archers seem to be having some kind of argument while a third tries to snipe from saftey, but is only having minor luck.

The driver leans over to see if his employer is okay and upon seeing the merchant on the ground he turns away hiding his glee and grinning like a cheshire.

As the soldiers continue to dig the graves, Tristan walks over and helps the merchant to his feet.

Tristan says"Hello good sir! What news do you have from the north?"

The merchant slowly gets to his feet and looks around, "Soldiers. Soldiers! Yes! Please help me! My caravan is under attack by gigantic horrific beasts! Monsters beyond comprehension! We need your help or all is lost! I would have stayed but the horses bolted as I was preparing to join the battle. It was all I could do to hold on for dear life." The fat merchant straightens his clothing out making it plainly obvious that he has no weapons upon him. From the looks of him the merchant couldn't fight the urge to have another helping of pie, let alone any fantastic monsters.

While Tristan helps out the merchant, Pheras trots over to the driver and says, "What's really going on? We just had two giant creatures tell us some people were in danger."

The driver quickly sobers and says, "The two flying monsters? Yea, I saw them high in the sky earlier. We are part of a caravan that was heading to Torana's Tower for some trade, but we got ambushed. I didn't have time to see by what because once they started attacking I had trouble keeping the horse under control. I think one of the monsters attacked the horses and they bolted. We were being escorted by a well-armed assortment of guards, but I don't know if they can hold out against what attacked us. If we are lucky they've killed the monsters by now. If not..." he shrugs.

The rest of the group, excepting the merchant, lends a hand in burying the dead and Stash says a prayer over the bodies of the dead.

When it is done, Stash turns his attentions to the living, bandaging wounds whenever possible rather than invoking the name of his god. One of the injured soldiers is put onto the back of the wagon along with Gwydeon. Gedai sits up next to Crow. The archers pile on top of the carriage. The merchant himself rides inside the carriage along with one other injured soldier, much to the dissapointment of the merchant. Sindel sits up front with the driver and the two chat aimably. Stamm rides Forge while Pheras, Tristan, Xedel, Gedai and Stash are forced to walk it.

Tristan says to Xedel "What can you tell us about those giant birds? And do you know who they are looking for?"

Xedel grumbles and says, "Of course they were looking for me. They just don't know true style when they see it. Other than that, I know what you know my boy. Now lets get moving." The strange old man sets an unusually fast pace that’s easy for the horses but quite hard on the others who are walking with him.

There is the distant rumble of thunder in the air, despite being a clear day.

Xedel periodically checks their course with that strange gemmed wand of his and changes their direction. About half a league later he frowns, "They kept going. I wonder what this means?" When others look in askance as the statement, he offers no explanation.

After traveling most of a league they see the caravan the merchant was talking about and first it does seem to be the scene of an on-going battle. As the group gets closer they get a better idea of what is going on. To the rear of the caravan in an anthill, dead bodies of guards and ants alike litter the battlefield. The area near the anthill is strangely quiet and no ants seem to be moving. One of the carriages has been turned over and the front carriage with the horses seems to be missing.

The sounds of battle are mixed in with the howls of a wolfpack and the occassional boom of thunder from a clear sky.

At first glance it seems as if the group of guards will be overwhelmed by a viscious pack of wolves. As two of the remaining guards are being savaged by wolves, two archers are arguing about something, one archer is having little luck sniping at the wolves and another guard looks like he will soon be overwhelmed by attackers. But then from the east comes another group of guards' lead by a man on black stallion.

"Oh well they don't need us anymore." Xedel says, "I guess we'll just have to track down those flying beasts and find out more about them."