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Goblin Shaman: *rages* SKUUM! Ya'will do as you told! Now take you weak mind to the mine and get that land invader!

Skuum: NO! Skuum tired of bein' dirt munger and I no wanna attack no mores! *drops his weapons and starts to walk away*

Goblin Warchief: How dare Skuum turn back on shaman! *takes out his club and bashes Skuum in the back of the head stunning him temporarily* What do wiwf twaitor (the shaman's name is untranslatable)?

Goblin Shaman: Swarve him at stake post, make ezzample of!

*Skuum's already skinny body is tired unceremoniously to the a stake post in the northwest section of the goblin island to the north on Gobaith. His moans of anguish and shrieks of pain can be heard from the old coal mine almost to the bandit settlement. As the rain begins to beat down on his little toadstool shaped head he sticks his nasty blackened tongue out to drink the rain water. It is only a temporary satisfaction to his predicament and death is surely approaching. A swollen tear trickles down his pronounced cheek bones and clings to edge of his thin lips. Hope is evading the small creatures mind and all he can think about is the foreboding darkness surrounding him that will eventually consume his soul. A whimpering awareness has now overtaken his moans for help. The night goes on, raining constantly, but it does nothing to loosen the ropes tied around him, guess the shaman put a spell on them. How long could he last he thought, he had seen some of the fine warriors of Gobaith route the entire goblin camp before sending them in a panicked retreat. However, it had been months since he saw a warrior brave enough to face the shaman. Once again his hope faded into the darkness and his soul was in the pit of despair. All he could do was wait in the hopes that someone would need the blood of Goblins stained on their blade or blunt weapon. He might even be happy to see a horde of orcs crush the goblin population, but then he would surely be a slave. He thought to himself, "better to be a slave then dead."

((would be fantastic to have someone saved me, otherwise, I would have made this character for nothing :-/))

Having explored a large part of Gobaith in her quest for knowledge in her hunt for "Those that have departed" , Tryn'rae was still trying to learn the language 'common', though becoming better at it. Making headway with the bandits, her movements becoming more precise in her strikes, she pauses briefly at a distant noise and grimaces in pain as one of them strikes missing her armor completely as blood begins to flow. Quickly sidestepping the next strike, she begins now to fight in earnest paying no further attention to anything. Possibly later, once healed, she will look into it further.



((can add more, just leaving room now for others to join))

The female orc named Rukka sat on a barrel near the shop of Trollsbane, looking around rather bored, watching a few people pass paying little to no attention to her, that or seeming somewhat disgusted by her in fact hygienic appearance for an orc. She picked a few splinters of bone from the leather pieces in her otherwise tough steel armour.


"Hrm.. wub to do wub to do... Rukka bored..

Time and people passed by slowly this day for her, aside from a few daredevils who thought they could mess with Rukka just because she was only a female
orc.

Eventually she decided to cook some food, strolling over to her depot slowly.
Having taken out a few of her cooking supplies she grunted:
Hur, out ob Onions again! Rukka need gets more onions...

She sat considering where to best get onions for a while, eventually concluding:
Hrm, dat wub Rukka need, Rukka needs someones of her own to grow onions for hers, Rukka needs a slave, hurhur!

She grinned widely and started getting her gear together from her depot once more...

*How much longer could he last without food? The rain water was no longer felt on the blackened tongue of Skuum and dehydration was no doubt growing near. It was almost unbearable to listen to the other goblins that came by with their ridiculing insults, some even threw stones at him causing blood to run freely. He could no longer take their malicious faces and decided to close his eyes tightly anytime someone passed by. He knew there wasn't much time left and agony of being trapped for a couple of days was eating at his mind. Before he died he knew he would be crazy and the fear was surmounting even more. He let his head hang low in defeat for there was no hope apparently and the only thought that he could muster to keep any sanity was that the afterlife had to be better.*

With two exellently crafted but well used poisonous serinjah blades ready for use hanging from her belt and a fine heraldic shield on the back of her armoured body she was now not far from her destination, the island of goblins, ready to find herself an oniongrower between all of the goblins there.

Hurhur..wondur how many Goblins dere are arounds now, nub beens here for a whiles..

She stepped firmly onward, her eyes scouting around for a sign of this goblin tribe, despite her reasonably bad eyesight she did not manage to get herself trapped in anything.

She grinned widely as the first dagger-wielding goblin came rushing towards her, quickly drawing her two blades.

Greebs shorty was all she said before the goblin, wildly attempting to penetrate her armour was lunged on her sword and ready for a barbecue.

Having finally healed and leaving two more bandits on the ground tending to their multiple stab wounds after a brief encounter with her more trusted daggers, Tryn'rae turns now east after a pause as if making a decision. With a slight shrug of her shoulders, she begins to walk taking her time while hiding sometimes behind available trees even climbing up one to get a better view. Her strange armor, a mix of bone, steel and leather making barely any sound at all as she moves while only the metal rings attached to her skin occasionally gleam when the sun's rays hit at a certain angle. At one point Tryn'rae stops to fight a short green man shooting arrows at her, but eventually arrives at an open field where she abruptly stops and with head tilted barely breathing, her acute ears pick up another sound fairly close. Moving her lips trying to replicate it though no sound is uttered "Hurhur", she frowns in confusion before stepping lightly over any dried brush attempting to walk as quietly as possible. Upon hearing the next sound that she recognizes only part of the word, possibly the 'common' word for "Greetings" she bends her knees and places one hand on the ground, holding the dagger in the other not moving a muscle while quietly listening for more, her green eyes ever vigilant.

His tongue was now completely parched feeling like sandpaper. He could not even physically open his eyes because of the fatigue his body felt. Thoughts of juicy rabbit meat or gallons of sheep milk kept racing through his mind. The feeling that he could never taste the things he loved so much was tormenting his mind. Sometimes he would shake uncontrollably because the thoughts drove him so mad with desire. He wanted to tear into the flesh of a lean bunny and feel the blood gush on his cheeks, to swallow down large chunks of rabbit meat and be merry. However, it seemed this could never come to pass and life was coming to a close. The goblins have him tied up so tightly that the ropes have dug into his skin and now itch and burn at the same time. The place where he tried to wiggle his wrists free was the worse and it even seeped quite a bit of blood till he finally gave up. As the sun settled on the 6th day death was no doubt on its way.

The sun was setting and the birds were nestled into their trees. Before he knew it the wolves were howling in the moonlight. Hours had passed but what woke him? He listened for a sound.... was....was someone out there? His heart pounded in his ears making it hard to hear. He tries to take slower breaths now so he can hear to his full potential. Was he wasting value energy that he could be using to help him stay alive or was someone really out there. Listening and waiting.....

Moving with the quiet grace of someone used to the hunt, Tryn'rae gradually gets closer to the place she thought the original noise came from. Once the sun set, it was much easier for her to move, her acute hearing helping to avoid direct confrontation with some of the goblins she saw. They appeared to be patrolling an area, but as she watched, the pattern to their steps became apparent and they were easily avoided. Stopping once at the sudden explosion through the night of the wolf howl as it sent chills over her body, then with a sigh shaking her head she very softly whispers with a grin on her face "jumping at wolves, what next" in her usual elven speech.

Still carrying one dagger, with a soft swish of leather, the other is removed from her boot as she now sees what appears in the dark to be a tall stick in the ground. With some rocks blocking the moon she could see no further, so with furtive steps, she quickly moves in a circular path toward the rocks, hiding in their shadow and finally is rewarded with a good view of the stake as the moon hits it. Blinking, she briefly stares at the being tied pitifully to the stake, her first thought was it must be a tribal rite, after all they appeared to be of the same race. Tryn'rae now though takes in further his appearance and frowns, no tribal rite should be that tortuous. Death if it was to come, should be swift as the scorpion.

Taking now a leather flask from her bag the only sound possibly a slight jostling of the water inside and figuring the being couldn't walk to escape in the condition he was in, she waits now for the guards to pass before silently running toward the stake. Tryn'rae places one finger on her lip not saying a word, but holding up the flask for him to drink from as her eyes mainly dart back and forth while counting to herself knowing exactly when she needs to run back to the rocks. Hoping he will at least take some water before she can decide on a further plan. How strong were these things? She fought one similar to them earlier easily with her daggers, but would she be able to take out two if one called for help? She needed time to plan for now.

Rukka strolled around a bit more, slaying the few goblins in her path with ease, until she finally saw a goblin who did not rush at her in order to kill the invader, he was not old or young, simply unarmed and frightened.
This is the goblin she chose to take home after some time 'convincing' him with the help of some harsh words and a piece of rope she had taken with her in her backpack.

Her words where probably worse than she planned to do if the goblin learned to behave, after all, she needed someone to grow onions, and she never really liked torture.
But fear can be used as a great weapon, and it might prove very useful if the goblin decided to get any heroic plans.

While walking back to Trollsbane with a wide smile on her face, she encountered a seemingly angry troll, running at her with a war hammer.
She quickly let go of the rope she had tied to the goblins wrists and ducked aside from the piece of heavy steel that the troll wished to crush her with,
While she quickly got up and ran at the troll with both her blades drawn while it was still pulling the powerful but slow weapon back, quickly swinging her blades at his arms first, forcing him to drop his hammer.

During all this the goblin managed to make his escape, retreating to the stronghold of his kind. Rukka, after pulling her sword out of a motionless Troll on the ground grunted angrily
Pah! dat stoopid gublin runs away, if Rukka goes back nows, dey certainly be waiting, hurhur.. dis maybe interestings.

She was not that far from the goblins, she quickly made her way over now, this time she did not enter via the same way, attacking two times at the same place might prove a little too risky if the goblins where waiting there in a more organized fashion. Dispatching a few of the small green creatures that patrolled the outer parts, now more than what she met before, though for her it was still not a trouble.

She grinned widely as she now finally approached the full encampment,
sitting down for a moment to eat a piece of 'cooked' rabbit meat before she stood up again, closing a little more, as far as she thought she could get without being spotted.

A malicious grin crept across her face before she let out a loud feral roar.
She made her way quickly towards the encampment, waiting to draw her blades and reveal her exact location with their light reflecting properties until she was closer, striking even more terror into the hearts of these small green creatures.

Just when he thought it might be the wind his massive yellow eyes, in proportion to his head, caught a glimse of another pair of eyes peering at him. The first reactionary trigger in his mind was that this must be a hallucination no one would be cloaked in the night staring at him. Suddenly, a patch of clouds sweep over the moonlight concealing the two almost completely now. Involuntarily, his eyes blink to refocus on the figure and prove to his brain that this is real. His entire existence was focused on these pair of eyes and the closer the figure got to him the more features he could see. His eyes were used to the night, in fact, he loved the night for many creatures cannot see then, but his current state of being reduced the effectiveness they usually had. As the figure crept closer a pair of pointy ears revealed themselves then the soft subtle features of an elfess. His heart began to pound in his ears again, this time uncontrollably. She was getting closer and his eyes were now two times bigger then usual and transfixed on her not even thinking to blink. For if he blinked she might just disappear and he did not want that. He sees her cautiously pull out a flask and his mouth some how starts to salivate. Unaware that his mouth is partially open he now gawks at her.

Still concealed by the shadows of the clouds her approach seemed to be preordained by the gods. Of course this thought never crossed Skuum's mind because the gods were never worshiped by the goblin tribes. Some where between her pulling out that flask and starting to walk his eyes became transfixed on the flask. It was like the holy grail was being toted by the agile hands of an elfess, and the world hung in the balance of that container, at least for the Skuum. As soon as the elfess tipped the life saving liquid into his barren mouth only one word could describe it, ecstasy. It felt like every portion of his body was swarming to the source of delight. His muscles convulsed, his stomach swelled, and his throat guzzled taking every single drop she would allow. The little fur on his body shot up on all ends celebrating the return of life. Chill bumps sprout up like turnips all over his skin and his tongue extended to its max. His body was now quivering everywhere and the look on his face was priceless. A life had been saved but only momentarily as he was still strapped to massive post.

Once again it was like the gods had their hand over the entire situation and before the elfess had to come up with a superfluous method of escape one was provided for them. The blood wrenching roar met his ears like the clap of thunder and he knew exactly what it was. His ears immediately slump downward one is half-bitten off and his putrid yellow eyes emit fear as they look to the source. With a quick look back to the elfess he mutters in a squeeky nasalized tone, "O...or....Orc."

The aftereffects of the orc's roar was nothing less then pure pandemonium as the goblins in different pitches all wail in hegemonic fear. The sound of bows rasping as they are pulled back, swords, daggers, and maces colliding all fill the night air. This is followed by moaning, shrieking, or whimpering anguish as the roar and onslaught of the orc continues. Suddenly a word in goblin comes to his ears distinctively, "Retreat!"

Blasts of fire start to illuminate the encampment making everything as clear as day light. The shaman was covering the retreat aiming his ceremonial staff of shrunken heads trying to blast the orcess back. The orcess was nothing less then opposing, terrifying to even look at. In fact, little Skuum nearly wet himself of the fluids he just consumed. The next instant his eyes darted back to the elfess and with one look at her and then the following at his ropes it was clear what he was expressing.

Allowing the goblin to continue drinking, Tryn'rae knew her time was almost gone, she would need to run back to the rocks soon as another patrol would come. Upon hearing the sound of that feral roar she totally froze for a brief second before pulling the flask back toward her and tightening the lid. Trying to understand his 'common' repeating the word "orc", her green eyes become wide as recognition finally floods through. This was the race! These are what Onathrae Nirie Narnil hunted along with her House. Abruptly Tryn'rae turns and with almost a blur of motion pulls a dagger from her boot and walks behind the goblin. With two swipes the ties are broken, one hand held out to steady him, the concentric circles on her skin possibly seen well now for the first time in the blasts of fire. With a look already becoming distracted reaching now for her other dagger, she stands up to her full 6 ft height and ignoring the retreat of the other goblins, she motions him to run pointing behind her. Tryn'rae will not disgrace her tribe by running from the mortal enemy of her House. Even though she knew she wasn't ready, not having trained enough yet, she would stand her ground this night as others of her kind had done countless times in the past.

As she cut the ropes off of him the only thing keeping him from smashing headlong into the ground was her steady hand. His diminished frame even at full strength would have been easy to hold up since he was shorter then 3 feet tall and didn't weigh much at all. I mean most of his weight was in his toadstool shaped head and as soon as she let go to point he "did" go headlong into the dirt. Luckily for him a cackling scream from the shaman covered his thud and muffled "ouff."

Somehow his legs weren't working, probably the combination of the malnutrition and tight rope cords. He wasn't going to let that stop him from getting the hell out of there by any means. With his grubby fingernails, stained an awful yellow, he dug into the rough ground before him and tried to pull himself along. The little runt goblin could easily be carried by the tall elfess with her physique. More over a halfling could probably carry him as skinny as he appears. With every ounce of strength he claws his way forward. Sad fact is even if he could crawl at a fairly decent pace he would run into the stream and have to crawl over an open bridge. For a moment he thought hiding in the water would be a good idea but that idea soon drifted away when replaced by the thought of drowning.

So there he was rather exposed with the elfess if the moonlight would reveal itself behind the clouds. What would happen?

Turning to look at the goblin, Tryn'rae frowns slightly before looking off to the distance, then sighs and places her daggers back in her boots. Walking over to him speaking still in elven, she places a gentle hand on his shoulder "Let me help" before easily picking him up holding him carefully over her shoulder. Some of her red hair may fall on his back and he can see the intricate engraving on the metal rings through her ears if looking as she quickly walks through the shallow stream then stepping easily up to the bridge to cross the rest of the way unmindful of getting her boots damp. On the other side she pauses to see if it is a safe place and gently sets him down then with a very strange accent she whispers to him in common now as she points to the fruit tree picking some off for him and placing the apples in his lap "eat".

Rukka grunted as she slashed through the last two remaining wild goblins, and once more as she saw a ball of fire heading towards her quickly, ducking away as far as she could before the fireball still managed to engulf her thickly armoured legs, falling down in the mud and staying there for a very short moment before quickly getting up and sprinting towards the short and wrinkly greenskin who dared to unleash that fireball upon her.

Knowing he could blast again soon she ran behind a big rock and ducked, while in the confusion of the unorganized retreat the shaman still shot at her head, he did not take the rock ending halfway up her body into account.

She grunted and looked over the rock to see that that cowardly old bag of wrinkles was moving further back also.
This wouldn't get her any closer to him before he had the chance to strike many times, and being as tired as she was from fighting all the other goblins did not want to risk.

Rukka quickly looked around and grabbed a shortsword that one of the retreating goblins dropped.
Ducking behind her rock once more before standing up and taking aim.
Being the bad marksman she is it took her long, almost too long before throwing the rather badly crafted blade at the shaman.

The shaman sent another fireball her way just before the weapon hit him.
The by now muddy and blood-covered -even if not much of it was her own- orc frowned deeply behind her helmet as she saw the handle of the sword knock against the Shamans leg.

Though despite her lack of skill with thrown weapons it was enough to knock him over, luckily the shamans where mostly old before being able to pose a real threat.
After considering her options for a few moments she decided it was best to take off.

And so she did, though just as she started running an arrow made it's way to her more lightly armoured left arm.
Tightening her muscles soon after the arrow struck she grunted loudly, only this time out of pain and not out of bloodlust or anger.
Was this a goblin that was still brave enough to shoot at her, or something else?
For now she did not care, because the shaman might get up at any moment and decide to join the other ranged attacker.
She continued to run...

As he was sat down the moon started to creep around the clouds revealing its luminous light. He sat on the ground looking up at his savior with confusion, why would an elf save a goblin? It was inconceivable to his primitive mind that an elf who the goblins always considered to be arrogant creatures. As she placed fruit in his lap he started to look between them and her with confusion still etched over his face. He despised fruit because it was too colorful and happy looking. The right edge of his lips started to curl up in and reveal one of his nasty black teeth giving him a look of displeasure. He quickly hid the look as the elfess glanced to him and said, "Eat". Who was he to deny his savior, and he immediately started to devour the fruit with puffy cheeks. Looking much like a fur-less chipmunk with green skin his cheeks flared out giving him a goofy appearance. He swallowed gulps at a time luckily not choking on any of it. After the last puff of his cheeks deflated he looked back to the elfess. He could easily see all of her features now and thought she was rather nymph looking, except 6 feet tall.

Suddenly, he caught a sent and with his nostrils flaring widely he knew exactly what it was, wolves. A pack of them were headed their way, and with a look of desperation to the elfess he mutters one word. "Wolves." With a bony finger that seemed to stretch to the source itself it was so long pointed due south. His face crinkled into a thrilled grin revealing all his blackened teeth. However, his reactions were the exact opposite as he crawled over to a tree feeling the strength in his legs slightly return. Apparently, he was thrilled to see the elfess fight not himself and burrowed under a thicket of leaves and bushes under a nearby tree. All you can see is two massive yellow eyes staring at you from the shadows, sometimes blinking, but otherwise just staring.

In the distance of the shadowy forest the sound of rustling can be heard, but then it suddenly stops. No doubt, they have caught whiff of trespassers. If you look back toward Skuum his eyes have disappeared....

Tryn'rae grins watching the goblin eat and clearing her throat tries to speak as plain as possible in his language pointing to herself "Tryn'rae" though the accent may be hard for him to understand. She then points to him with one eyebrow raised but immediately pauses at the next word from his mouth "wolves" and blinks at him before seeing his gaze turn behind her then chuckles at him crawling toward the tree.

Reaching toward her boots now with two sounds like a swish , she holds gleaming daggers in both hands as her feet take her a little distance from the tree. Her eyes peer into the night trying to see the dark shapes finally meeting one with the swing of both daggers. Another wolf quickly joins the first yet she keeps an eye toward the dark still not wanting to meet more then two at a time, possibly three and unaware how many were headed their way. As she fought the last she now sees only dark undulating waves in the distance and tilting her head pauses briefly whispering in elven "a large pack" before turning back to the tree reaching it in just a few strides then grabs the back of the goblin's shirt unceremoniously without warning and begins to climb the tree easily taking one branch at a time.

Standing on a large branch and holding onto the trunk, she lowers him down now still holding onto his shirt until he appears to have his balance and can sit. Tryn'rae points down then up toward where they are "stay". The only thing seen in the moonlight is dark waves of wolves, it is unclear how many there are as some sniff while placing their front paws up on the trunk probably knowing they are there.

Off in the distance she hears heavy fighting and even sees some fireballs light up the night as the front of the wave of wolves seem to reach the goblins. Sighing she sits now next to him, fresh blood from her fight with the wolves splattered on her clothes and hands that she wipes onto her trousers, appearing unmindful of the two large cuts still bleeding, one on her arm and one on her leg, the one on her leg appears to have bite marks also. Again she points to herself "Tryn'rae" then to him with a questioning look on her face.

There he was nestled safely in his shrubs when the elfess yanked him up by his shirt and started climbing the tree. It took him a moment to realize what was going on, but once finding out he just hoped his shirt wouldn't rip. A relieving grunting sound came from his throat as soon as he was sat down on the large limb. His eyes quickly darted to the ground where the wolves were all racing toward the goblin camp for a midnight snack. A sinister smile of vindication made him rub his hands together excitedly before looking back to the elfess. As she said her name again and pointed to him he nodded understanding and said, "Me'sa Skuum'nub Yugglenip" his voice was high pitched and squeaky. His oversized yellow eyes watched her expectantly for a while but then a flaring of his nostrils made his head turn. On the ground was the two wolves she had slain, and one of them was rather small. With cautiousness he slowly turns his head to the right then pans back to his left searching the area thoroughly. By the sound of his greedy laugh trapping itself deep in his throat he was delighted about something.

At this point he quickly swiveled his head to the elfess again giving his head a slight bobble. He says in low squeaky voice butchering her name, "Thr-inn'ray-ee."

Afterward he points the same bony finger as before toward one of her daggers, then to his other open hand, and finally to the wolf on the ground. Once repeating the motion a couple more times to make sure she knows what he means Skuum waits patiently with dilated pupils nearly forcing the yellow iris from his eyes.

Tryn'rae's ears slightly quiver on hearing his voice as she leans her head back from him, the squeak grating on her sensitive hearing. She stares at him now attempting to repeat his name yet doing about as well as he repeated hers "Meskumyug" before attempting to interpret his signs. Looking where the wolves went then down, she stands up on the branch deftly while again without warning grabs onto his shirt as she quickly climbs down the tree. Squatting near the two dead wolf carcasses yet still keeping an eye for stray ones, she whisks a dagger from her boot and hands it to him hilt first with one eyebrow raised then takes out a clean bandage from her bag and wraps it around the leg with the still bleeding bite. Reaching up, she plucks another apple from the tree and bites into it with relish as she staightens up and turns back to watch the field where the wolves ran. After only a few minutes, Tryn'rae's eyes now narrow as her head tilts with a look of concentration. Something is seen in the far distance and with a circling of her hand then pointing she says in fairly clear common "wolves" indicating hopefully for him to hurry. Turning her head up to the tree then to a very distance forest possibly judging how far the run would be, she impatiently awaits.

After being picked up a second time you can hear his shirt start to rip and all the way down the tree he hopes it won't rip the rest of the way. With a thud his bottom hits the soft forest floor and he looks up to the elfess expectantly. His eyes widen in excitement when she offers him the dagger and with one of his bony hands he wraps his elongated fingers around the small handle. After taking it from her he just stares at it inches from his face ignoring the wolves in the distance. Then with a sharp turn he looks directly at the smaller wolf and pounces on it.

He quickly sets the dagger down for a moment then takes both hands and snaps the wolf's neck. Taking the dagger in hand he uses his free hand to place two fingers straight in the wolf's nostrils and yanks upward then slashes the wolf's neck. Afterward he proceeds to skin the entire wolf but leaving the head attached. Once he cleans it to his liking he places the wolf head on like a hat and lets its fur hang down like a cape. The wolf is now missing its bottom jaw and ears replaced by a goblins head and ears. The front fangs of the wolf are just a few inches from Skuum's forehead while his pointy bat ears perch out the sides. With a blackened grin he wipes the dagger off on his new pelt cape then scrambles over to her on all fours and hands it back. As he stops the wolf head jostles to the side making him look goofy.

Suddenly Skuum lets out a yawn and dashes near the tree and gathers some twigs and black moss and before you know it there is a fire. He snuggles up to his fire and curls into a little wolf ball and starts to sleep silently.

Tryn'rae watches him take her dagger then stares curiously at his movements as if studying a new species. Unusual in itself for most elves, Tryn'rae has no discernable reaction to the snapping of the neck, the difference between her and other elves becoming more apparent as she simply blinks. Taking her dagger back from him she never moves her eyes as it quickly disappears in a boot at the same time her other hand reaches for the wolf's head trying to straighten it for him.

Standing up now and gazing back toward the wolves then the goblins beyond for a few minutes, trying to see if any were coming toward them, Tryn'rae didn't see his fire preparations until too late. Quickly scraping her boot toward the fire picking up dirt as it goes, she soon extinguishes any trace pointing behind her then turning toward him with eyes slightly narrowed. Reaching for his hand with hers, she indicates for him to stand then points toward the thick trees of the forest saying one word.

Safe.

Being disturbed and seeing his fire go out angered Skuum as he bared his teeth. He wasn't worried about the wolves they hated fire and the goblins would not be back for weeks fearful that the orcs would return for a larger assault. Looking up to her he knew if he tried to tell her this should would not understand a word he said. So with a grumpy face and droopy eyes he walks on not holding her hand. His steps are deathly silent even as you walk beside him. Quite often he stretches and yawns as they walk looking over his shoulder to see if they are far enough away. As soon as they reach where she thinks is safe he dashes once again to the edge of a tree and gathers tigs, black moss, and a couple of rocks. This time he made a bigger fire so it could not be put out so easily with mere dirt. Afterward he retains his former position in a curled ball at the moment he looks like a wolf with his attire.