Bründir carefully lead Stonebrow through the tickets and bramble until the clearing. Not so much out of concern for the massive boar so much as to preserve the concealment of the location. "Oi! If I didn't know better, I'd say this place was made 'specially as a rest stop. Check under those rocks 'n these trees, might be a stash of dried meat and fresh water!" Turning the emblazoned crest in the center of his breastplate, the connecting strips of chain slid up, allowing him to easily remove the plated segments of his armour without too much fuss over straps.

"Now, then....who's gettin' fire wood this time?"

“I can help with that in a minute.” Vark replies with a chuckle. Currently he is busy walking a circle around the campsite, holding the runestone in his hands as he goes. Beams of ruby light emanate from the artifact, washing over the ground and magically warding the space.

Val smiles at her uncanny ability to find the most comfortable, but also pleasant spaces in the wilds. "I have done my part." She announces to the others with a cheeky grin. "So, get your axe and get to chopping, Brundir!" She takes a moment to sit quietly and listen to the sounds of the woods around them; after the strange encounter earlier this was a very much needed respite from the dark edge that had crept into these woods.

It's the small hours of the morning, with just an hour or two left until dawn, and Bründir is sat on a flat rock at the edge of the camp. The dim glow of the fire pit's embers casts faint shadows that flicker and dance among the thick pines and his ears strain to catch the sounds of the night.

Far beyond the camp’s edges, the dwarf can just about make out a faint, rhythmic rustling. It’s subtle. Too deliberate to be the wind, but too soft to be the approach of something large. The sound comes and goes, as though teasing him to dismiss it as his imagination. Then, from deeper in the forest, Bründir picks up another noise — a low, guttural cackle, gutted midway as if bitten off. It’s faint, but it carries an unnatural edge that sends a chill down his spine. The horses snort uneasily, stamping their hooves, and Toivoa lets out a nervous whinny, ears swivelling toward the entrance to the hollow. A rhythmic tapping — like claws against bark — echoes from the shadows, but it ceases the moment that the dwarf's eyes flick towards the source.

The crisp, clean scent of pine and damp earth has turned cloying, overlaid by something far more unpleasant. Bründir’s nose twitches as he catches the acrid tang of sweat and unwashed fur, mingled with the faint but unmistakable stench of blood. It lingers, growing stronger as the moments stretch on, accompanied by a sour, musky odour that makes his stomach turn. The scents seem to come from all directions, disorienting in their subtlety, as though the forest itself has turned rank.

Bründir jumped at the encroaching sounds, Dumdrengi flashing from its scabbard to greet the night. "Up! Everyone up!" In a brief moment of clarity, Bründir passed his blade over to awkwardly grasp in his shield hand. Bending down, he took the nearest stone and clenched it in his fist, "A child of the mines calls for light." Between his fingers, brilliant rays sprung forth, and the dwarf hurled the enchanted stone toward the nearest sound to dispel the darkness.

Bründir's stone arcs through the air as it clears his hand, bursting forth in a radiant glow that slices through the dark, scattering shadows like startled birds. The trees surrounding the hollow are thrown into stark relief, their gnarled trunks casting jagged, dancing silhouettes that flicker across the forest floor.

The stone strikes a fallen log with a crack, its light pooling amongst the moss like a spilled sunrise. Immediately, a pack of gnolls is revealed, pushing their way through the thicket at the entrance to the camp. They're crouched low with taut muscles taut and matted fur that gleams with sweat. Yellowed fangs glint in their snarling mouths and their eyes burn with a feral, red glimmer. One of them, caught mid-step, recoils, shields its face from the sudden brightness with a clawed hand.

Bründir barely registers the scene before a volley of guttural barks and laughter erupts from the surrounding darkness as the gnolls howl their defiance. From the trees, another steps forwards, its cruel grin stretching impossibly wide as it bangs a rusted cleaver against a battered shield. Its laugh is low and wet, rolling across the hollow like a challenge. Another snarl cuts through the night from outside the hollow. The light has bought the Acharnost precious seconds, but the gnolls are clearly many. Somewhere deeper in the woods, a heavy branch snaps, followed by the sound of pounding feet.

Val jerks awake as Bründir bellows out his warning, without questioning anything she immediately hefts Rook from its resting place next to her body and scrambles to her feet. "Awaken, Acharnost! Foes have come!" Her voice calls out across the campsite as she rushes towards Bründir, a strange feeling settling into the pit of her stomach... where a stab of phantom pain blooms from a memory so very similar to this moment stirs in the recess of her subconscious. "I am with you, Halfshield! You do not stand alone," She moves up to stand between Bründir and the approaching gnolls with a wide, defensive stance as her body begins to cool in preparation of violence and her heavy breathing begins to fog.

"COME THEN, BEASTS AND MEET DEATH!" She screams at the gnolls!

The gnolls charge in with a feral roar and Valaith is set upon from all sides. Two arrows fly, one grazing her cheek, and then their blades and axes are upon her. Here, an axe that should have taken her arm scrapes a bloody gash along the bicep. There, a falchion from the side tries to gut her anew, but Rook's haft bats it aside before it can do much more than break the surface. Nevertheless, the giantess stands tall, her pure skill at arms turning four other blows aside without so much as a scratch to show for it.

Valor writes legends, but it could also become a vehicle for demise. Bründir stared as Valaith charged past and was met with the cackling mob. Before they could overtake her, the dwarf wheeled to the left of the goliath warrior, placing the gnoll closest to them between a hammer and anvil. Dumdrengi raised high, then sprung to life. Bründir was nearly stunned as the blade only ever acted on its own accord but composed himself to slam the shining blade down on the gnoll. Runed steel cleaved hide, leaving a terrible line of ruin across the foe's back.

In Dumdrengi's fading light, Bründir called out once more, this time to his massive boar who had roused awake at the sound of conflict. "Stonebrow, DRUNG!" The boar squealed in the dark, and a great clamor arose. In the rush to defense, Bründir missed his chance to untether the great beast from Xej's wagon. Stonebrow wheeled and lashed, but fell short of the gnoll closest and was only able to shift the wagon half a foot.

Vark jolts awake as the wards he placed across the campsite’s entrance are shattered. Immediately the clamor of battle and the acrid stench in the air sets his heartbeat racing, pumping adrenaline through his body. Nestled in the crook of his arm as he was sleeping, the runestone is easy enough to take hold of as he rises from his mat and it will have to do for Pathmaker lies a foot away. He wastes no time in rushing towards the fray, elemental magic building within him and lifting him off the ground. The ruby begins to hover between his two palms as he flies forward, red sparks jumping between the relic and his fingertips. The second he gets in line with three of the assaulting gnolls, primordial runes flair into existence around the sorcerer. The symbols or tinged ruby red, channeled as they are through the codex, but this elemental power is drawn from Vark himself and the lightning bolt that tears across the forest is icy blue-white. The CRACK leaves three charred corpses in its wake, their stench now accentuated by the reek of burnt fur. It also creates a bloom of flames as it continues past the gnolls and into the forest behind them, igniting a swath of shrubbery and trees. 

Thurston was walking in a frozen moor. The grass breaking under his naked feet. He was surrounded by a wet, cold fog that didn't allowed him to see anything beyond the length of his arm. His breath making small puffs of smoke as he exhales. He didn't feel cold though. He felt like it was a long time since he had been able to feel anything. He was lost, lost in the frozen fog, walking without a clear destiny, without a proper goal. 

Inside the fog, a voice reached him, to his right. Muffled and not from a clear point. He thought he could hear Brundir calling them. 

He walked towards that sound, or so he thought. Nothing was different. What was happening? 

Another voice. This one clearer, louder, but still diffused in the clouds that surrounded him. He, however recognized Val's voice and the defiant cry she made. His friends needed him, but he was so far, so lost. He started running towards that sound. A foul stench surrounded him. He called out for his friends, calling them by their names, but only the echo of his own voice answered.

Then a pulsing, red light appeared at his left. Suddenly a lighting of red energy parted the fog and with a sonorous crack lifted the veil in Thurston's mind. 

The big woman was crazy. She will be the first one to fall. And being so big, with so much meat, she will be a good feast for sure. Much better that the dwarf behind her, but that little dog will learn soon to properly squeal. Grozuk raised his spear. He will plunge it into her guts. Even the sudden red lighting that burnt some of his pack mates didn't stop him. Blinded by hunger and anticipation the gnoll was only focused on stick his weapon into that fresh meat in front of him.
He didn't see it coming. 
With a splattering sound followed by a loud thunder, when a gnoll was standing, ready to attack Val, then there was nothing. Only a few drops of blood and gore that fell upon the barbarian warrior remained of Grozuk, the hungry gnoll. 

From ten feet away, Rikkazarik flew back to his master hand, and Thurston grabbed it standing, the fur blanket falling to the ground exposing his naked body, small sparks of blue lighting jumping from his torso and abdomen to his arms. 

Aiden's nightmare had a hold on him. He had been a coward -- could not give his father then honorable end he deserved. He ran through the forests of Eikthyrnir, shame following behind him. Thunderclouds roiled in the air above him, Thor's wrath chasing him -- bearing down on him. A bolt of lightning struck a tree near him, turning it into a giant's torch. The clap of thunder that followed threw him to the ground. The wind wheezed from his lungs and he...

...tears awake as Rikkazarik flies back through the air toward Thurston. Unfortunately, aside from the hammer, the first thing Aiden sees is Thurston's manhood flying free as the warrior's blanket drops away. Aiden rolls his eyes and climbs to his feet, quickly taking stock of the situation. Gnolls. Three lay dead already. Three more in close proximity to Valaith. One being flanked by Lord Halfshield. And were those...yes, two archers in the back. They would likely be a problem.

The clap of thunder from his dream is replicated as Aiden conjures a blast of sound around the two archers, causing the pair to howl in pain.

Val laughs as her friends rally around her and gnolls begin to drop from their onslaught; that small part of her that still felt that twinge of fear falls away as she roars in the face of the few remaining gnolls and a cloud of hoarfrost erupts from her mouth before she slams Rook hard into the gnoll standing before her; however, a vicious swipe that should have ended her foe was partially turned aside by his shield as the shoulder dislocates from the force of her blow. The gnoll staggers backwards from the assault, but before it could recover its wits enough to flee Rook slams downward in a brutal overhead swing and splatters the gnoll into the forest floor with a sickening crunch. She glares at the archers nearby as she begins to charge towards them!

As the wagon shifts beneath him Xej jolts awake, suddenly as alert as he has ever been. The assassin instincts he was working so hard to suppress bringing the danger into focus. Before he even remembers he is a pacifist now, he grasps for the staff at his side. Placing it above his head, he rolls backwards, springing into a flip off of the back of the wagon and landing perfectly on the balls of his feet. He doesn't stop though, reversing his direction and slipping past the wagon into the trees where he disappears from sight in the darkness. Beyond the trees he can see his companions engaged in a bloody and terrible fight and the voice in the back of his head dermands to be set free to help them.

Coward. They need me. Let me help them. 

Not this time. We do it my way.

The two archers continue to pepper Valaith with arrows, loosing shafts that lodge in her gambeson with a painful thud and tear bloody streaks across her limbs.

Meanwhile, the remaining gnoll in the melee turns to face Bründir and hurls itself at him. The creature grabs hold of the dwarf in a twisted ball of teeth and claws, trying to twist his sword hand behind his back and force him to drop Dumdrengi. However, stunned as it is from the sword's mighty blow, it cannot bring the adamantine clad warrior to yield.

Meanwhile, a second band of gnolls comes rushing out of the woods to join the fray. Flames from Vark's lightning bolt dance in the trees behind them, casting jagged shadows across the forest floor. The darkness beyond the fire grows even starker, but something big and slow lumbers in its embrace.

The battle had devolved into a brawl, as expected of such savage enemies. The gnoll that grabbed Bründir, though clung out of desperation to prevent another grievous strike from Dumdrengi. So close, Bründir couldn't leverage his blade, but let his body pivot instead. A plated leg swung up and caught the gnoll between the legs, sending it howling between gasps of pain. A twist later, and Bründir was free of its grasp. It recovered, though, just in time to stop the dwarf from countering with his own attempt at a takedown.

Recovery meant very little, however, as the gnoll began to recover its senses just as a wall of muscle slammed it. Stonebrow came crashing through the darkness, barreling through the gnoll, and sending it to the ground. Moments of fury later, Stonebrow looked up to his rider with snout and tusks covered in gore. The gnoll was sprawled on the ground, torso rent open by the giant boar.

Vark watches as more of the fetid beasts rush in to take the place of those he has just dispatched. And there is something more, some big lumbering thing beyond. Never the type of mage to play it conservative with his mana, Vark prepares to cast another spell. Infernal words leave his lips and his blue eyes shift red. He snatches the runestone from the air with his left hand and thrusts his right forward, ruby veins throbbing with crimson light as a mote of the same ruby beams out of the codex and towards the mass of ravenous gnolls. The fireball detonates right in their midst, devouring them all with hellish flames and leaving nothing but charred bones behind. The blast serves another purpose too, illuminating the hulking thing advancing behind them…

”OGRE!” Vark shouts to his comrades. Bracing himself for what could be a much more difficult fight, Vark stands his ground and taps several facets of the runestone. As he does, arcane sigils of warding flash momentarily around his form

Thurston is getting ready to charge towards the bulk of the gnolls but all of a sudden burst of magic and fire ends that for him. The sudden bright not only ends the gnolls but reveals more enemies coming their way. 

Running to reach Val's side he taps her in the shoulder. 

"It seems that we are going to be able to enjoy the party too, if the kid doesn't explode them before they can reach us " he jokes nodding to Vark acknowledging his success. 

At Thurston's touch, Val feels that a little spark runs through her, almost like a shiver down her spine, but she feels better after it. He winks at her and looks towards the incoming ogre. 

"Aren't you tired of they don't letting us getting a good night of sleep out here? What's wrong with this creatures?"

Aiden steps up near Thurston and Valaith in time to hear the paladin's flirting. "If you are tired," he says, interrupting, "Go back to sleep. We can handle it."

With that remark, he thrusts his left hand -- bearing his holy symbol -- to the sky. Dark clouds begin to swirl above. A great crack of thunder splits the relative silence of the break in the fighting and Aiden's right hand gestures toward the ogre and its group of accompanying gnolls. Lightning strikes from the sky and channels through the cleric, rippling across his bare chest and then flies free toward the assailants. In an instant, it clears a corridor through the center of the group, sending bodies flying and filling the air with the smell of burning gnoll fur, roasted ogre fat, and ozone. 

Beyond the corridor blasted through the brambles by Aiden's lightning bolt, fleeing gnolls and other shadows in the forest can be made out in the flickering light of the burning undergrowth. The Acharnost's explosive defence appears to have broken their ambushers' morale.