Fantasy: The Road Least Traveled

Kirros sat upon a snow covered bolder and frowned.
His long brown hair tossed in the wind, his grey cloak wrapped around him in a vain attempt to keep the chill out. His trusty longsword at his hip, bow and quiver on his back. A hunting horn at his waist, along with several daggers and a sadly empty hip-flask. His loyal and brave war-dog Kragg was laying behind another boulder, well out of the wind and relatively warm. It was clear who had the brains in this partnership.

Kirros frowned and looked down the road. Kirros was a Ranger. A Pathfinder. A man of considerable skill in matters of wilderness training and survival. It was the matter of survival that was currently occupying his thoughts.

"This road, this road, is a problem." He thought. In a broad sense he was right, but not in exact terms. The road wasn't the problem. It was what sat in the middle of it, just 50 meters away.

An Ogre. A pretty big one. A big one wrapped up in a collection of salvaged armor and discarded cloth. It sat and stared into the distance, as if waiting for something.

"Probably lunch" Kirros mused, suddenly feeling less like an adventurer and more like a deli selection of meats.
"What do you think Kragg?" he asked, louder than he intended. Kragg, being smarter by far, did his best to blend into the rocks and not be part of this situation. "Not a bad plan" agreed Kirros, quieter this time.

Kirros turned around and scanned back down the road. "Where in the 12 material planes are the others?" he grumbled.

The wind whistled down the path, tossing the tree branches and whipping the ends of Tamythir's blond ponytail into his mouth. The paladin of St. Cuthbert sighed and tried to spit the hair out, with little success, then focused once more on the job in front of him. He was crouched down beside his great palomino warhorse, one of its legs bent up and cradled against his side as he examined the base of the plate-sized hoof.

"How in the name of all the gods did you manage to pick up so many rocks?" Tam grumbled as he used his hoof-pick to try and pry out the collection of miniature boulders that were wedged in the sturdy iron horseshoe. His horse just blew out a breath in reply and leant some of its weight against its rider, making Tam groan. "Stop that, you heavy bastard. I won't be able to fix your foot if you crush me."

The horse ignored him and kept leaning. Tam sighed and braced himself, then went back to prying out rocks. He finally managed to clear them all out, and took a moment to examine the hoof before letting the leg back down. "There, better now?" The horse experimentally stamped its foot, then tossed its head, its pale mane whipping in the wind.

Tam smiled and patted its neck before putting the hoof-pick away in one of his saddlebags. "All right, let's go catch up with the others before they run into trouble." He didn't bother mounting yet and just began walking down the path, glancing back every now and then as his horse obediently followed him.

Dorn Thunderforge woke with a start.

Well, With a splash of used mop water would be more accurate.

And he was having such a pleasant dream, something about city in the clouds and accidentally marrying a nymph. "hmm, perhaps not that pleasant. scary woman" he thought to himself.

Leaning up he made the mistake of taking a deep breath, the smells of penned in animals mixing with the vomit in blood that are all to familiar to the mop bucket of 'the choke and puke' Tavern.

"Oi! wake up ya bloody dwarf! Stables for the horses, and only then for them' what pay for it." Piped in the burly Tavern Keep, still shaking out the last few chucks of last nights festivities from the bucket.

"I did pay! .. err, i think. I'm sure ol' stalk leg has me covered. Blond bastards always good for that kinda thing." Grumbled Dorn, as the alcohol induced coma wore off, and the alcohol induced migraine set in. "By Moradin's arse, who taught you peasants to brew" he mumbled to himself, not half as quietly as he thought.

"Your 'friends' were off hours ago. Crack'a'dawn, figured you'd run off ahead ta' pick a fight."

"Crack'a... what? Its not... Oh bloody hell! Where's meh' Pig!" Dorn rose, his over-muscled torso insisting on bringing most of the barn straw up, affixed to his overindulgent body-hair.

He wore naught but a pair of heavy hide trousers, held up by a large Steel buckle that protected most of his gut, and served to hide its true proportions. He checked around, spotting his iron shod boots and Dwarf Forged bracers, and after a moment spotted what he was looking for. Reaching into the water trough, he pulled out a truly Massive Axe. Gilded in gold and silver runes, the Axe was was easily as tall as the dwarf, and at an even 5 foot, he was mighty tall - for a dwarf. "there be mah babe. Now wheres mah bloody Pig!"

Dorn walked out of the stable, an impolite look forestalling any further questions of payment from the tavern keeper, and began to search for his mount and companion.

"Muc'cac ya bloated Bugger! Where are ya!" he called, and would continue to call until he found his Great Boar raiding some unfortunate butchers larder.

With a sigh, he deposited a few gold coins (Having no concept of how much that was to a human butcher as compared to one of his own race) and began leading Muc'cac to the road out of town. "Bloody stalk leg and his battle arse 'll never let us live this down"

Laxus had always enjoyed the cold, he'd grown up with it, but  the lately winds were biting a fair bit deeper (it was the weather! not the fact that he was now in his mid 50's, the weather! got it? ... good). he took a deep breath and wrapped his cloak about himself as best he could.

Laxus was a wizard, although you wouldn't know it for looking at him. Laxus had long ago resigned himself to the life of an adventurer, and as such he was forced to give up the comforts his city bound wizardly brethren enjoyed. he had traded in his flowing robes for a well made dark green tunic and pants, and his saddles had been rejected in favor of sturdy travelers boots. the one surviving wizard staple was his staff, as tall as Laxus himself, it was carved with dozens of strange runes and topped with an orb of amber. hanging by one shoulder was a large satchel, filled to bursting with scrolls and small leather bound notebooks.

"hang it all!" Laxus grumbled as he made his way along the path "where in the blue blazes are they? we've been out here for hours now and we've seen neither hide nor hair of Kirros or the others!" he eyed the old raven sitting upon his shoulder "oh Wake up you old crow, how long have i been talking to myself then ...wark? ...wark!" the raven fixed Laxus with a single red eyed glare "what is it now you old coot?"
"make yourself useful and fly up a ways and spot the others"
"shan't"
"shan't?!"
"yes, shan't! im a familiar, an embodiment of eldrich power, not a map" the old bird said and closed his eye again "besides, there's no need, the hunter and his slobbery beast are just around the bend"

sure enough, around a slight bend in the path a familiar figure sat upon a boulder by the side of the road.
"Kirros my lad!" he called out with relief "thank the gods its you, have the others arrived yet? they haven't gone ahead of us hav - please tell me that's not an ogre" Laxus hadn't noticed the hulking brute until he was right next to the ranger. the ogre was sitting a short distance down the road, it currently looked content to stare into the distance, but for how long? Laxus slowly began reaching for his satchel in search of one of his spell books, his eyes never leaving the ogre for a second.

Kirros nearly lept out of his skin. With great restraint he slowly turned his head, jaw locked and eyes wide.

"Good... morning... friend... Laxus." he grated. Not in anger, or disdain for his wizard friend. Just in the pure fear of the moment.

They stood there, silent. Snow falling gently, the wind whipping around them. Total solidarity while the next thirty seconds ticked by. Once it was clear they were not about to become second breakfast, Kirros spoke again.

"Sorry to go against your wishes, but yes. That is an ogre. A high northern one. No idea what it's doing here... other than successfully blocking our way."

Kirros considered the Ogre again, its sheer bulk and armor. He guessed that it weight about 270 units... probably a full 10 feet tall. No weapons he could see from here, but he could see it's hands. They were big enough to hold the rock he was sitting on.

"Any party tricks in that bag of yours?" he asked hopefully.

Tam continued striding down the road, trying his best to ignore the way the wind whistled through his polished steel armour. While it served well protecting him in combat, it proved very little protection against the weather. The tabard and cloak he wore over the top didn't help much in keeping the wind or snow out either - all they did were flap around in an overly dramatic fashion whenever he stood still for a moment.

He was approaching a slight bend in the road when he noticed that his horse had stopped dead a meter or two behind him, its head up and ears flickering back and forth. Tam stopped as well, glancing around cautiously before gesturing to his horse. "Come on, you bastard. We've got to keep going if we want to catch up with the others."

The horse stamped its hoof and refused to move, its ears going back flat against its head. Tam frowned and looked around again, then unslung his greatsword. Weapon in hand, he moved cautiously down the road, doing his best to keep his armour from clinking too much. It didn't take him long to round the slight bend, and what he saw made him freeze in his tracks. He was relieved to see two of his travelling companions by a boulder at the side of the road, but what lay beyond them made him swear under his breath. An ogre, a big one, and no way to easily get around it. No wonder his horse hadn't wanted to get any closer.

Tam waited for a moment, watching, then continued down the road towards the others. His movements were slow and careful, and he never took his eyes off the ogre, ready to act as soon as it moved.

"Roll over you great lug!" Dorn mumbled to his belligerent boar.

Finally Muc'cac rolled over, and Dorn fastened the final strap for his old saddle. The barding for the Boar looked old and worn, but was dwarf made and although it has lost much of its luster over the centuries, it was sturdy as ever.

Dorn's head spun as he mounted Muc'cac, a reminder that the hangover was going to make this a rather unpleasant ride.

Showing for a moment the compassion the old dwarf actually felt for his travelling companion down patted its main soothingly as he said "Common old friend, lets catch up with the others before they decide not to wait up."

Muc'cac actually nodded his great head in a form of affirmation, and took a moment to enjoy the pampering. One moment. No more, before he launched forward on the shampooed and conditioned equine scent that still lingered on the road. It took him three more bounds to pick up speed from zero to max, and it was all Dorn could do to hold on tight to the Boar, and try to keep his breakfast where it belonged...

"i might have one or two" Laxus responded as his heart rate slowly returned to normal "it looks like its waiting for something...you don't think it got separated from a raiding party do you? ...or maybe he's just really bad at ambushes"
laxus didnt have much experience with ogres, he knew they could be somewhat intelligent at times, in some cases even friendly to certain travelers.

luxas relaxed and lowered his staff again, something seemed off about this whole situation. "wark" he whispered to the wide eyed raven on his shoulder
"hush wizard, it will hear you"
"hush yourself, something is off, check the surrounding woods, there is a chance the ogre may be a distraction, and i don't want any more surprises today"
in an uncommon show of obedience, wark shot high into the cold air and began his search.

laxus scanned the immediate area and received the fright of his life when he noticed Tamythir had joined their number. "by all the ethereal planes" he gasped, using his staff for support as he tried to catch his breath again "where did you come from?"

Wylliam grimaced staring at the horizon as he leaned against a wooden lamp post just outside of town, knowing once again his patience was being tested. His jet black hair and lightly bearded jaw framed his poor attempt to maintain composure. It was cold, it was windy and now it was snowing, again.

Wylliam glanced over at his spear, propped up against the cobbled fence that lined one side of the road as if he were expecting it to start a conversation to pass the time. Disappointed, he pulled the hood of his fur lined cloak over his head in an attempt to shield himself from the northern chill. Beneath his cloak, Wylliam wore the garb of an experienced traveller as well as embossed leather boots and fingerless gloves, trappings from a life he once lived many years ago. A belt crossed his chest from sholder to hip, upon which a number of potions and a wand were strapped.

Parched, Wylliam brought his water skin to bear removing its corked top. In the process he revealed his dark scaled hands and clawed finger tips. Wylliam paused, appraising his unique condition as he so often did, before taking a mouthful of water. As he fixed the cork back in place and returned the water skin to his side, Wylliam sighed in momentary contemplation.

Being unique, as Wylliam was, meant life was always going to be, interesting. This was further compounded by the simple fact that Wylliam was also a half-elf, and a sorcerer to boot. Wylliam often felt he was the result of a freak accident, or the punchline of a terrible joke. Although, he had come to find purpose as an adventurer, and cherished the comradery found in his equally unique companions.

Wylliam’s focus returned to the horizon. It had been hours now since he had positioned himself here as Kirros scouted ahead. Moreover, he had now ushered both Tamythir and Laxus ahead, directing them down the road to Kirros.

Wylliam rolled his eyes and muttered, “Dragon’s breath, where would the world be if we all drank like dwarves?”

Wylliam and Dorn had been comrades long before they met the likes of their other talented companions. Dorn was the reason Wylliam waited impatiently by the side of the road.

Wylliam sighed, “Where in all the north can that bearded drunk be?”
Wylliam turned his gaze from the town’s direction to the north, “I hope the others are faring well in our absence.”

"Incoming!!" Yelled in that familiar accent was all the warning William got.

From over the hill Muc'cac came barreling along the road. Clinging to his back was Dorn, his squat form barely apart from the brawny pig.

"He ain't stoppin! MOOVE!" Dvorn yelled as the great boar veered altogether too close to the lamp post William leaned against.

Muc'cac bolted right past William, bucking and letting out a great big Boar "Squeeeeee"by way of greeting, and toppling Dorn right off in the process!

Completely oblivious, Muc'cac continued down the road at full pelt to find his holy hoofed counterpart.

Picking himself up with a grunt, Dorn grumbled "Gonna want to catch him 'afore something big and hungry hears free bacon"

The bedraggled dwarf tilted his shaggy head to Willam, and said with sincerity "Thank ye fer waitin'"

Wylliam stepped out from behind the cobbled fence he had used as a buffer against the Dwarf's antics. With his spear in hand, Wylliam hastily heaved his pack form the ground laden with all manner of exotic herbs, his recipe book, alchemy tools and his other personal effects.

Fixing the pack to his person, Wylliam replied with a silver spoon smile "Well then. Lets not tarry a moment longer"

Wylliam's stepped into a well paced stride in the purist Muc'cac, eventually moving unhindered from the road through channelled snow carved by the boar's undirected charge. The chase lead up a steady incline past the tree line that paralleled the road.

As Wylliam ran through the sparse woods and deepening snow he attempted to use his unnatural sense of smell. The other of his unique gifts sharing its origins with his scales and claws. However, Wylliam was quickly reminded he was down wind of Muc'cac as his nostrils burned with an unsavoury mix of a filthy boar and the choke'n'puke's questionable cuisine.

With a sour face Wylliam called back, "Dorn! Where is he going? the road is in the other direction?!"

Dorn began a relentless jog after the half elf. His squat legs causing him to swiftly fall behind, but he knew from experience his dwarven stamina would catch him up in time.

"What else can go bloody wrong today" he mumbled to himself, with no idea what waylaid his party, just up the road.

As Wylliam and Dorn trailed behind Mac'cac on yet another detour, Wylliam heard a familiar bird cry. In his purist of the pig, Wylliam cast his sights to the sky, spotting Wark, Laxus' familiar.

As Wylliam continued to stare, he hadn't realised Mac'cac had stopped in his tracks. In an instant, Wylliam collided with the hunched mass of muscle before finding a bed of snow as he hit the ground.

Wylliam sat up dusting of his new coat of snow, "You know Mac'cac, sometimes you truly are a pain in the ass"

Wylliam turned to find Mac'cac standing in silence, tensed and poised for combat. the surrounding woods on this rise had thickened and were beset by a uncomfortable silence. Wylliam had travelled for years with Dorn and Mac'cac at his side and knew well enough when danger was close.

Wylliam cautiously put his nose to the air once more with his eyes closed, as if the hindrance on one sense would improve another. The unfortunate scent clawed its way through Wylliam as the danger was fully realised.....Orcs. No more than six, but more than Wylliam wanted to confront on a cold northern morning.

Wylliam looked to the skies hopeful as Wark drift eastward from sight towards the road, now a good 100 metres away from the tree line. Wylliam's iconic grimace surfaced on his face once more, "I hope you saw me Wark".

Wylliam rolled and lay low in the snow, as Kirros had taught him when they first reached the north. He lay still and watched with anxious intent.

"Maybe they haven't heard me... Maybe they're just passing though." Wylliam teased himself. He knew exactly what was going to happen, it was only a matter of time. Then realisation hit Wylliam with overwhelming concern "Gods! Dorn!".

Life as a squirrel was starting to affect She-who-shifts, one of the numerous hazards of becoming overtly comfortable within a small rodents form.

However when your somewhat friendly countryhood Ent's council asks a favor before skipping out of the forest how could she-who-shifts say no? her human brain was overloaded by compassion, loyalty and other exhausting emotions.

While the squirrel part of she-who-shifts was quite content to stay out of sight as it surveyed the happenings below, the fragments of humanity lingering in the edges of her cramped brain questioned the normality of these races gathering within Ent territory.  

Curious for more information the winter-squirrel scurried down the tree and approached the stinky-four-legs sniffing the air hesitantly before bowing in front of it.

"Greetings he-who-smells, what danger has come to this forest?"

Wark looked down upon his master and his companions for a brief moment before he circled around to scout the forest for movement. it didn't take him long to notice the squealing mount of the dwarf stampeding into the woods, followed swiftly by one of his masters more...unique companions. he gave a caw in general greeting and resumed his search

it was only by luck that wark spotted the flash of a blade in the woods, but it allowed him to finally see what was hidden beneath the foliage, orcs! it seemed his master was right, there was an ambush brewing...he would never hear the end of this now! that damned wizard would use this as an excuse to make him take to the air every time he had a damned hunch!

it seemed that Wylliam was wary of the danger around him, or at the very least he knew enough to listen to the war pigs instincts. but he supposed he should give him a warning out of professional courtesy.

wark tucked in his wings and dove for the sorcerer, the cold wind began to sting his eyes and his vision blurred, when he was just above the tree tops he snapped out his wings and slowed himself enough to land safely upon the war pigs saddle

orcs to your flank lad he squawked at the sorcerer look lively, im not sure of their number, but they are coming for you! head to the north and find the others there with his hurried speech made to the sorcerer, wark took to the air again, hurrying himself towards his master, all the while thinking to himself

"very few ambushes come from just one flank"

As Wylliam lay in waiting, assessing his options as he did. He looked down at the potions strapped to his bandolier. His eyes fixed on the Tongues elixir he had made weeks prior. Wylliam was a well versed Diplomat, skilled in talking his way into or out of situations. Unfortunately, the circumstances seemed to lack the opportunity for diplomacy. So Wylliam continued to assess his options.

He never liked using sorcery as a response, despite his affinity for magic. This was largely because it was derived from his black draconic bloodline, a presumed evil in the eyes of many including Wylliam. Using his magic to deplete his attackers life force, enfeebling or even paralysing them in an instant was always a last resort. Wylliam's eyes then settled on his trusty wand, brimming with the power to animate rope. His gaze then moved to his pack, where he always carried a full length of rope for extenuating circumstances. Wylliam smirked recalling the many times this combination had worked in his favour. Wylliam then drew his wand, and quietly removed the coil of rope from his pack.

As he did so, a Squirrel from a lofty tree branch scurried down its stoic trunk and positioned itself in front of Wylliam and Mac'cac. The Squirrel then, to Wylliam's surprise bowed. Before Wylliam could react, Wark swooped down from above, confirming what his nose had sensed. An Orc ambush, was imminent.

To Wark's warning Wylliam gave a concerned reply, "There are six, please warn the others.... Oh and Wark.... thankyou my winged friend."

Wylliam's gaze then settled on the Squirrel and looked to Mac'cac's reaction.

Muc'cac gawked down at the tiny little snack before him.

The snack that was talking to him. In a language he understood no less. But different from the deep language of his Two legged Brother. This one flowed with a feyness that he understood without knowing it.

"By my ancestors, What in the planes are you, that you can speak to me so?" the Noble Boar replied, but to hear him as a human does it sounded more like "Squeel! *Gnash* *Snort*"

"I do say you appear to be, well.. a Delicious little morsel fit for brunch. But food does not speak, at least not in such a way as you do. I would have this explained, but later as you asked first and your question holds more pertinence. The great green skin ones that smell as i do, but more of mud and less of liqueur, surround us, a Fight is about to start, and if you would live to answer my question, i would suggest cover!" Or, to a lamen person "Sqeeee! *champ* *gnash* *champ* Haw, Squeeell!!"

As Muc'cac explained the predicament, Dorn finnaly caught up. "What in the hells are you fussin' at ya darned pi-- huh? Six what?"

Wylliam, now kneeling by the Mac'cac turned his attention to Dorn. Wylliam's eyes were sharpened and his lips pressed. This was a look all to familiar to the Dwarf and if he was being honest, the only one he really understood without a doubt.

Wylliam motioned to Dorn to kneel with him, gesturing for composure being careful not to distrube the silence.

In hushed tones Wylliam began to inform his surly companion. "Dorn, there is a group of orcs ahead. Six if I'm not mistaken. Our friends convene down the hill to the east on the road by some boulders. I believe the orcs mean to ambush them, unless they are aware of our presence". Wylliam removed a rose tinted potion from his bandolier, handing it to Dvorn. He then slung his rope coil over his shoulder, gripping his wand in one hand and his spear in the other.

"our friends are in danger, and so are we..."

"What do plains have to do with what I am?" inquired the puzzled Squirrel.
Fear spiked down she-who-shifts back as the mighty large but strangely noble Boar apprised her for brunch. Without much conscious thought she-who-shifts acclimatised to the Boar she was focused so intently on.

I must not be a threat not a source of food, best be an ally

Suddenly the Squirrel twisted and shifted into a fine chestnut Boar, snorting in alarm.

"Oh! How is this for cover! Shall we hunt now then brother-tusk?"

For one can hardly call him he-who-smells when she is as assaulting to the senses.

And so it came to be that She-who-shifts lined herself up on the other side of the now less mighty large boar and gazing amusingly upon the dwarf and half breed before heading for the side of the road and into the shrubs.

Wylliam's demeanour towards the impending conflict was shattered when the strange but unassuming squirrel morphed into a boar or similar stature to Mac'cac.

Assessing the nature of the transformation, which was obviously supernatural, Wylliam found his curiosity sparked. As he went to address the transforming creature, he heard a branch snap in in the woods ahead.

Wylliam's brow darkened and his stare focused, "They're here..."

Dorn stuffed the the elixir into his trousers, and drew his axe.

Slowly and carefully affixing the gilded chain to his wrist, he whispered to the blade "I know you're meant for greater evils, but these grobi will have to do"

With this Dorn settled back to back with Wylliam, ready for whatever came.

At least he hoped he was.

Muc'cac in the other hand, was Gobsmacked. It had been decades since he had seen one of his kind, and nearly a century since he'd seen another Female. A Tsunami of emotions and thoughts broiled in his mind, and as he contemplated which of them to act on, everything happened.

wark skimmed the treetops as he rushed his way back to his master, he fluttered to a stop and landed on the wizards shoulder
"6 orcs...advancing on...others" he puffed "ambush...imminent"
with his warning delivered, he slumped slightly trying to catch his breath

laxus smiled "well done wark" he gave the bird a quick pat while he turned to relayed the news to his companions "seems the ogre may be a distraction, the real ambush appears to have found our lost companions in the woods" laxus once again raised his staff and began to focus his power within it, the runes once again smoldered to life. the staff had no specific function other than to amplify his magical powers and focus his will, it was his most trusted wizarding tool. the staffs amber orb began to radiate a strange blueish light

"you are going to feel a slight tingling sensation lad" he muttered, tapping the staff to Kirros's chest. laxus muttered something in an old arcane tongue and focused his will through the staff and into kirros, a pale blue light began to spread across his companions torso, coating him in a protective energy used by mages from ages past, named simply 'mage armor'. laxus knew he wouldnt be doing any upfront fighting unless something went horribly wrong, but he wanted his companions to survive at the very least.
"you really should give people more warning before you cast spells on them" wark muttered, having caught his breath
"warnings cost seconds we may not have"

Tamythir gave Laxus a sheepish little smile. "My apologies for startling you, friend. I'm just glad I've caught up with you both." He nodded to both Laxus and Kirros, then looked back down the road at the ogre. "It looks like we have a bit of a road block. No wonder my damn horse didn't want to come any closer - I think he's heard the stories about how horse meat is a delicacy for ogres."

He was considering the options of how to best deal with said ogre when the raven Wark returned and landed on Laxus' shoulder, panting out his warning. Tamythir frowned and quickly scanned the forest nearby, looking for any signs of imminent ambush. "We should regroup with them quickly, catch the orcs between us." He started back down the road again, his long stride eating up the ground.

His horse was still standing where he'd left it, and Tam mounted swiftly. "We've got trouble, boy," he told his horse as he swung it around to face back the way they'd come. "Keep your guard up." The horse snorted, but Tam didn't ride off just yet. Instead, he waited for Kirros and Laxus - it would be better to stick together, just in case there were more orcs around.