The bolt smashed into the midriff of the onrushing goblin, catapulting it backwards head over feet onto the grass where it lay still.

From behind the groups of onrushing goblins a larger figure, a hobgoblin, pushed through the ranks, its shield knocking the smaller goblins out of the way as it advanced with long strides.

As it cleared the troop of goblins it disappeared behind the monolith of Bahamut.

It didn't appear round the side of the stone, though, perhaps waiting at the far side.

Following the hobgoblin forward came one of the group of goblins. Two of them headed towards the northern end of Bahamut' stone.

The other pair scampered past them at pace, outstripping them with impressive speed.

As the others flew past, the first pair steadied themselves and drew back their bows, aiming for the centre of the circle when Tradden had backed up.

The arrows whistled past the group, harmlessly grounding in the scrub at the far side of the circle.

The volley gave the other goblins the chance to skip behind Corellon and Kord, however, as they kept up their sprint towards the northern end of the circle.

They did not appear back out in the open, skulking behind the stones.

Beltak managed to get on to his hands and knees, but still remained groggy. He seemed to have been hit harder than the others by the blast and was taking longer to shake off the effects.

He slowly got to his feet, rubbing his temples, a little unsure of where he was.

His head cleared somewhat as he gulped in the air and the ringing in his ears softened to a dull chirp. ‘What… what's going on?’ he stammered.

Another one of the flail and shield sporting hobgoblins continued its march up the rise, heading through the throng of goblins towards the stone circle.

It veered further on than its colleague, heading for the monolith to the north, pushing against some of the smaller goblins that had already scampered that far.

Out of view behind the carved stone it could be doing a anything.

Ignoring the smoking body of their comrade, struck by Kireth's bolt, the goblins drew their bows, even at this far range, and let fly with some speculative shots.

The arrows flew long and wide and were no worry for the party, but even before the arrows thumped into the turf in the circle the goblins were off and running.

Like the others they found cover behind the monoliths, likely drawing another arrow or slipping out their wicked blades.

Far to the rear of the group strode an imposing figure, quickly making its way towards the circle.

It covered the ground quickly in loping strides, its tattered black cloak fluttering behind it. Clutching a crooked staff of some kind it was almost a comical figure, the weight of the thing obviously making it hard to balance, yet the creature continued its pace.

Like the goblins before it, it managed to reach the monoliths, finding cover behind them and bided its time.

With its flail held high one of the large hobgoblins darted forwards, splitting the goblins to its north and south, and darting through the gap between the monoliths.

It uttered a guttural shout as it breached the circle's edge and kept on running through, the flail still high and its shield out in front.

With the others holding back it looked in an exposed position for now.

As the flail-wielding hobgoblin burst into the circle, the northernmost group of goblins took their cue and headed off at some speed.

Their little legs covered the ground in no time to get to a point of some cover, before they veered off even further north.

They were hard to pick out between the stones and even more so as they were obscured by the remains of the shrunken black vines.

One of the orcs at the rear of the enemy group began to charge towards the circle up the rise, running at full pelt with both hands grasping a huge flail.

It dwarfed the goblins it passed, shoving them out of the way.

It ended up near a small gaggle of the goblins, spittle flying from its twisted lips.

As the group moved into action, the dwarven woman quickly looked around her. Seeing the group were moving to defend against the approaching goblins, she surmised they were not an immediate threat.

Bursting into action herself, she broke into a run towards the remains of the thorns, her short legs pumping.

As she closed on them, she took her hammer in her right hand and span it around, so the head was pointing groundward. She came to a halt by the thorns and took a wide, bracing stance.

With a quick move she thumped the head of the hammer into the ground whilst simultaneously reaching groundward with her left arm, fingers spread, palm upwards. She shouted out, as if in pain, or perhaps feeling the pain of the ground itself as it started to shake. A low rumble permeated the circle as small tremors throbbed underfoot. She raised her arm from groundward to pointing skyward as her shout intensified.

The ground between the monoliths of Bahamut and Corellon, Corellon and Kord, and Kord and Pelor started to shift and move, tufts of grass and turf moving upwards and seeming to roll outwards as the nearby goblins stepped back in alarm. In the blink of an eye, several shafts of grey granite stone burst from the ground and wedged themselves into tight groups between the gods. The fingers of stone were rough, but flat, making an effective wall, some ten feet high, sealing the entry from Bahamut all of the way to Pelor.

She took deep breaths, seemingly physically worn by the action, before she pointed her hand to the gap between The Raven Queen and Bahamut to the west, shouting out in a gruff voice.

‘Kill every shit-eating skunk-weasel who comes through there!’

The last remaining troupe of goblins started to make their move. They appeared unsettled by the sudden emergence of the granite slabs from the earth, as if their plans had been wrecked and their orders now in tatters.

Three of them headed towards the south of the monoliths, perhaps still following their initial plan, but the other headed towards the western entrance to the circle on its own.

The one heading north burst through the gap between Bahamut and The Raven Queen, keeping close to the hobgoblin. The others continued their path around the south of the circle.

Following the goblin troupe towards the circle came a hobgoblin, marching quickly with shield and flail.

It too headed towards the western gap, following the stray goblin before it.

It came to a stop not far behind its hobgoblin comrade, just through the gap.

Another orc with a huge flail charged up the hill, not appearing to care if it were a target for arrows.

Spittle flew from its lips as it charge and it carried on headless, stamping on the corpse of the fallen goblin as it continued its run.

It only came to a stop when it barged into one of the hobgoblins, squeezed by the tight path into the circle.

The final figure to the west began a very deliberate march up the slope, its long strides covering the distance quickly, but not without due care to the melee that had ensued.

It was the largest of the orcs, broad and muscled under a thick chain vest and carrying a huge double-headed axe. Its eyes were fixed on the group as it continued its steady ascent.

As it neared the gaps between the monoliths it became easier to make out the markings on its face; black patches smeared across its eyes that even in the growing gloom were obvious to those inside the circle.

A moment of confusion ran over the hobgoblin soldier's face as the granite boulders burst from the ground between the monoliths. It progress blocked, it turned and marched back towards the other opening.

With its shield held before it, it strode through the opening, past the goblins and into the circle.

It approached the group somewhat cautiously, shield guarding its body and taking one short step after another.

At first the goblins quaked at the sign of the stones sprouting from the ground, but shouted at and corralled by the hobgoblins, they began to take flight, heading sunward around the monoliths as fast as they could.

With entrances to the stone circle blocked they had to continue their sprinting, circling as far as they could before a gap was found.

At the end of its sprint, one of the goblins could be seen through a gap to the northeast, the others not too far behind.

Beltak had finally come to his senses, the ringing in his ears now only a faint tingle and his sight was back to normal. With the others grouping together he decided to move into formation with them, though no-one had given many orders.

Khalin and Tradden seemed ready with their weapons, so Beltak hoisted his mace and checked his symbol of Pelor was free, glancing quickly at the monolith to the north of the circle with a short nod. Kireth seemed calm, almost smiling, but the priest had no idea where Zero was. Over Tradden's shoulder, though, he spotted another dwarf, which was confusing, near the remains of the vines.

With a measured movement he shifted his shield, preparing for the onslaught.

The raised stones were still causing confusion in the goblinoid ranks and their troops had to resort to sprinting to find any gaps to get into the circle.

The hobgoblin did not seem encumbered by the weight of its scale mail nor the flail and heavy shield that it carried, sprinting around the top of the monoliths with long loping strides.

As it caught some of the goblins its chided them, ushering them on and barking orders in a low guttural tongue.

On the bark of some order the goblins just outside the monoliths directly to the east began to pour through the gaps and into the circle, splitting their paths diagonally.

They covered the ground quickly, their eyes always on the group before sliding to stops almost in unison and drawing back the strings of their bows.

Short black fletches nicked at the young warrior and the warlord — a volley with intent of things to come.

The hobgoblin with the staff followed its line around the monoliths, heading for one of the gaps.

It followed the goblin archers through and into the circle, pausing for a moment to examine the group in the centre.

It wasn't long before it set off again, striding eastwards in parallel to the huddled defenders, waving its staff at the other goblins in encouragement.

As the goblins burst through into the circle around it and fanned out, one of the soldiers strode forwards at a measured pace.

It moved almost within striking distance before stopping, protecting itself with its massive shield, a veritable barrier in front of it and then started to bang on the rear of the metal with its flail.

Slowly and rhythmically it kept up the banging, grunting in unison, taunting the group from only a couple of dozen feet away.

Spurred on by the soldier the goblins at the northern side of the monoliths picked up speed, hurtling around the stones.

They moved together, sometimes almost tripping over each other in their lust for battle, rounding the corners and looking for a gap into the circle.

As they neared the northeastern edge of the circle they were funneled into the gap, barging into each other clumsily.

The bolt flew gracefully across the stone circle and buried itself deep in the hobgoblin's voluminous robes. Its head snapped quickly around from staring at the group to searching out the archer.

With a growl one of the rampaging orcs outside the circle struck out at the granite stones blocking its path in frustration. With the route to the group blocked it had to turn and head back to the south.

The passage between the monoliths to the west of the circle was getting crowded now, with many of the creatures trying to find their way through. The orc bullied the goblins out of the way, pushing through to charge into the circle.

As it cleared the throng it bellowed, raising its flail with one hand whilst fingering the haft of an axe at its belt with the other.

Gathering her breath and wits, the dwarf woman watched as orcs, goblins and hobgoblins spilled through the gaps in the stones to the west. She glanced at the three figures in the centre of the circle and wondered why they were not moving to fight. She muttered something unintelligible under her breath, finishing with the more legible.

‘I'll do it me bloody self.’

But as she hefted her hammer, looking at the nearest goblin, she turned to see the second group had continued their move sunwise around the outside of the circle and were now moving in. They were being outflanked anyway, despite her blocking intervention. For a second she paused, looking between the two groups.

Gritting her teeth, her mind made up, she turned and started to sprint towards the goblins to the north, shouting out a battle cry as she moved and looking to engage them before they made use of the space inside the circle.

She covered the ground quickly, but not recklessly, heading off the goblins coming through the northwestern gap.

The goblin group to the southeast skittered through the monoliths, pouring into the circle like a river torrent through rapids, their bows held out before them.

Spreading out they took up a stance and pulled back on their bowstrings.

One of the arrows stuck at Beltak's flank, despite his attempts at defending himself as he had seen the others do. Another one grazed Kireth's calf, drawing a scowl from the mage.

Striding through the centre of the western goblins came one of the hobgoblins, shield pushed out before it.

It was soon not so far behind its comrade, one of the other shielded hobgoblins, and the pair seemed to flow together as they shifted into formation.

With flail against shield, it too joined in the rhythmic banging, shouting at the group, the pair of them hardly to be seen behind the great barrier shields.

Orcs kept coming from the west, another slowing its pace as it entered the circle to a more considered approach.

With the two soldiers in front of it, forming an effective barrier, it grabbed the axe at its belt. Twisting it with skill in its hand it planted its feet and with a guttural shout threw it towards the group.

The two soldiers ducked and lowered their shields in unison and the axe skimmed their heads as it tumbled end over end.

The axe thudded into Khalin’s dark mail before he knew what was happening and the orc let out a scream of victory.

What seemed like far out to the west now, beyond the ring of monoliths, the larger of the orcs kept up its measured approach. It wasn't slow, it just kept coming at the same pace, its great axe held before it.

It reached the gap in the monoliths and surveyed the scene. The enemy were pinned in the centre of the circle, cowering and its troops had them covered. There was no rush, it could savour this battle.

Finding space for itself on the battlefield it stretched its limbs, cracking its elbows and its neck and then let out a fearsome bellow at the group.

The flame was devastating, the energy ricocheting from the monoliths back onto the goblins and incinerating the grunts where they stood before they had chane to react. The soldier behind the shield fared better, although it screamed with the pain from the heat, but the orcs were made of sterner stuff. The warcaster, off to Kireth's left staggered backwards a bit with the blast, but somehow managed to keep its feet.

The blast nearly finished the creature off, leaving it reeling uncertainly on wobbling legs.

Enraged by the flames and the sweeping blades and the taunts of the thin human the hobgoblin lost a little of its discipline, changing its focus from the group in the centre to the immediate attacker.

It still took a considered approach to reaching the young fighter, joining at Tradden's flank to gain what advantage it could.

Keeping its shield to the fore, it drew back its flail and chopped at Tradden over the top of the steel barrier.

The flail arced down and crashed onto Tradden's shoulder, numbing his side and drawing his full attention.

As Tradden's attention was torn away by the force of the blow, the goblins where he had indicated Khalin should concentrate his efforts scampered around the gap where the “Lady” was making here stand.

Where the dwarf was holding the gap, the goblins found it hard to make their entrance, fighting for access in the tight passage through the monoliths, funnelled into the waiting path of the dwarf.

Two of them had managed to get through, however, discarding their bows and drawing wicked looking blades. Closing in on the dwarf they slashed out with speed and surprising force.

A glancing blow from one of the goblins caught the dwarf on her thigh, not cutting through her worn hide armour, but the force would leave a bruise.

Beltak was definitely feeling more composed, the ringing in his ears and dizzyness finally gone. The party had split into multiple groups now, with Khalin charging off to the northeast to join the other dwarf. Here in the middle he stood with Kireth, with Tradden throwing himself into the midst of the goblins further west. Zero was gone, as usual, likely somewhere hidden in the growing darkness.

It made sense to protect Kireth, yet Tradden had managed to get himself surrounded.

He shifted quickly in front of the mage, closer to the goblins, and held out his symbol before him.

A searing light shot from Beltak's symbol, striking the hobgoblin flanking Tradden and leaving a smouldering burn on its shoulder.

The soldier urging on the goblins outside the northern edge of the circle slowed its pace, the gaggle of smaller goblins before it getting in its path.

It pushed a couple out of its way, barging between the monoliths.

It came to stop right in front of the female dwarf and adjacent to Khalin, thrusting out its shield as a barrier.

The warcaster, that had looked fearsome when it first entered the circle, now looked bedraggled and confused, swaying on its legs. The side of its face was burnt and twisted where Kireth's magics had taken their toll. It snarled at the mage in the centre of the circle and took a few shaky steps forwards.

As it approached it held out its crooked staff, shaking it with the remnants of the warcaster's energy.

From the warcaster's staff a barely imperceptible shaft of force sped out and caught Kireth in his chest, taking the wind out of his lungs. The force clung to him, however, and the warcaster swept his staff across in an arc and the mage found himself being flung towards the northwest like a rag doll.

Raising its shield somewhat, the soldier just to the south of Tradden picked up the pace, shaking off the sting of the flames from the mage and circling in an arc around the young fighter’s blades.

Its arc led around to the northern flank of Tradden where it slipped into position next to its comrade, their shields interlocking in a subtle movement.

From behind its shield it drew back its mace and reached out to strike at Tradden.

Tradden was wise to this, however, after the other soldier had used the same trick and deftly sidestepped the blow.

The goblins to the northeastern end of the circle were clumped together now and were drawing back their bows. One of their number was out of position and the others shouted at it to come to them.

With them all in formation they took aim and let fire.

The shafts flew through the tight space between the monoliths, but only one hit its mark, scratching the side of the female dwarf's arm.

The shot was mistimed, however, and flew harmlessly past, striking one of the monoliths beyond his target.

The ball of flame from Kireth's magics and Tradden's skill with his blades and irritating taunts had driven the flail-wielding orc to a frenzy. The thing thrashed about, looking for an opening in Tradden's defences, bringing its flail around in a mighty heave.

The flail crashed down onto Tradden's shoulder, spinning the young fighter around and keeping him within the cage of orcs and hobgoblins.

As the dwarf woman arrived at the gap, the goblin's were already spilling through. She was also aware of someone else running up behind her. As she readied her maul, the other dwarf came into view at her flank and smashed the first goblin down. However, an armoured hobgoblin quickly pushed in the vacated space, its shield pressed forward.

The second goblin caught her thigh with a cut, but this only seemed to make her more angry.

Pausing for a moment, the woman reached towards the ground once more, fingers outstretched. For a second the ground seemed to shake once again, but much more lightly, then her very skin seemed to turn a slight grey and take on a stone like texture.

Eyes wide, and teeth gritted, the woman snarled as she made a savage two handed uppercut, taking the second goblin in the chest, the blow carrying on up through the neck into its head. It was dead before it left the ground. She did not stop her run though, and let her momentum carried her forward into the gap between the monoliths.

As she passed the hobgoblin, she reversed her swing, turning to her left to bring the maul down. An arrow clipped her arm, sending blood flying and disrupting her aim. The hobgoblin followed her movement, shouting, spittle flying as it raised its shield in time to intercept the blow. It staged back a step from the force, wooden splinters flying, but otherwise stood its ground, its attention still focused on the wild dwarf woman.

As the bolt from the rogue skittered across the circle, the last remaining goblin in the southwestern arc poked its head between the monoliths and spied the rogue.

Getting some cover of its own it kept its bow nocked and when Zero poked his head above his own rock the goblin let fly.

Despite the rogue's ducking the arrow slipped past the rock and tore another hole in his embroidered shirt, drawing blood with a cut across the top of his arm, almost forcing him to drop his crossbow.

Tradden was surrounded by hobgoblins and orcs and was doing his best to fend them off. Some of these creatures, however, appeared to be trained not just in the power and weight of attacks, but in tactics and guile. The hobgoblin on his southeastern flank moved up to his east, trying to circle him.

It no longer flanked the young fighter, but it still had a chance to strike when Tradden was busy with another foe.

It struck a glancing blow before moving up in formation next to its comrade.

Another of the orcs, just south of Tradden, fought hard to resist the temptation to charge at the young fighter. The taunts form the blade-wielding human were hard to ignore, but it had its orders and charged off towards the robe-clothed mage.

The half-elf was already off balance after being pushed away from the centre of the circle and the rampaging orc closed in for the kill.

The mage was an easy target and the orc howled with a sense of victory after crashing its flail into the unprotected body, the spikes on the head of the weapon ripping a short gash in Kireth's abdomen.

The largest orc out of them all had been drawn towards Tradden's taunts, swinging its greataxe in a wide arc. There didn't appear to be much finesse with the weapon, just sheer power and brute force. It took a heave at the young fighter's back as Tradden attempted to fend off the hobgoblins gathering in formation to his north.

Tradden had enraged the orcs and hobgoblins about him, but none more so than the rampager to his southern flank. Blood dripped from cuts the young fighter's sword had drawn and the thing seemed to have driven itself into a rage.

Incensed by the buffeting from the scrawny human with the twin swords, the hobgoblin set its feet and approached around the top of the throng.

Lining up in formation with its fellow shield-bearer it formed quite a barrier for the young fighter's attacks. With their shields locked in place it heaved its flail over the top in an attempt to crush Tradden.

The strike was wide of the mark, catching on one of Tradden's whirling blades and deflecting off to one side.

The goblins at the northeastern passage of the monoliths kept their bows drawn, knocked another arrow and took their time to steady their aim. In unison they let fly.

Both of the arrows hit home, though the goblins' bows were not strong enough to puncture fully through the dwarves' sturdy armour.

Khalin easily evaded the clumsy riposte from the hobgoblin. Seeing the creature turn its back on her, the dwarf woman seized the opportunity. She swung her maul around and upwards, to head height to a hobgoblin, foregoing finesse in favour of power.

The thick head of the maul smashed solidly into the side of its skull with a dull thump and an audible crack, sending it savagely sideways.

The hobgoblin's eyes rolled and blood flew from its mouth as it staggered, almost senseless, critically injured, but still clinging to life from the most slender of threads.

Swaying on its feet unsteadily the hobgoblin should have been an easy target but in one last effort it managed to raise its shield to deflect the warlord's clumsy blow.

Beltak heard Kireth's shout for help that was then followed by the mage catapulting the orc end over end away from him. The scribe wasn't sure what assistance the half-elf actually required, but called on his deity to soothe the mage's pains regardless.

With Kireth filled with Pelor's vigour, Beltak strode confidently towards Tradden and the throng of orcs and hobgoblins.

As he walked he held his shield before him, muttering a prayer to Pelor under his breath.

As he joined Tradden in the fray the scribe matched his movements to the scything blades, bearing the shield in the gaps when the blades moved away.

The hobgoblin staggered to one side, avoiding further blows from the pair of dwarves more by luck and the size of its shield than by any skill.

It careered to one side, trying to dodge the blows of the craghammer and move away from being pinned between the loathsome dwarves. It had just about enough strength to swing its flail in hope of getting itself out of the mess it found itself in.

Its strength faltered however, the weight of the flail and the injuries from the attacks stopping the head reaching any sort of speed and the impact was barely noticed by the female dwarf.

The warcaster did not look in much better shape than the hobgoblin to the northeast, leaning on its staff and panting heavily, blood streaming down its face. It took a moment to compose itself.

Then with long strides it marched towards the mage, a growl playing out upon its burnt and twisted lips.

Holding its staff out once more it muttered a guttural word and gestured at Kireth.

The energy and spirit that Beltak's radiant light had filled him with mere seconds ago were withered away with the blast from the staff, striking Kireth in the stomach and pushing him back with force. He staggered back towards the black vines, trying to regain his balance, but the power was too much for him. He teetered on the edge of the vines, trying to summon what strength he had to avoid falling in. Falling in to the black once more.

His strength failed him.

Kireth fell backwards into the black and darkness of the vines. Although they were shrunken and shriveled the vines still bore the thorns and they clutched at the mage's body, piercing his robes and tangling around his arms.

The thorns pierced his legs and the mage felt a numbness, not pain, slowly work its way up his calves and past his knees. As it rose the numbness turned to an excruciating cold and the mage could feel himself slipping away as nausea and dizziness threatened to turn his world black.

One of the hobgoblins in the throng Tradden had barely been able to touch so far, however the young fighter's whirling blades would soon catch it out.

It had mastery over its own shield though and only took glancing blows along the metal, not enough to disrupt its own attack that it launched over the top of the shield.

The flail came down heavy towards Tradden's shoulder, but the shield of Beltak was suddenly there, deflecting the blow to an almost harmless strike. Almost. The head of the flail hit just the right place on the young fighter&apsos;s lower leg and his movement was stalled.

To the northeast, despite the battering the hobgoblin had taken before their eyes, the goblins stood firm, drawing back their bows and letting fly.

Despite the short range the arrows missed, the two dwarves moving with combat grace around the hobgoblin.

The warcaster had already started to advance towards Kireth, a wicked smile playing across its bloodied lips when a look of surprise came over its features. It paused for a moment and its staff fell from its hand with a clunk to the ground. Its raised its arm to the side of its neck where a short dark bolt protruded. For a moment it looked as though it would try to yank out the bolt, but then it fell face forwards into the dirt and lay still.

Bloodied by cuts and battered by fire the rampager concentrated on the young fighter in front of it, trying to dodge the blades that whirled around in what seemed a random, deathly pattern.

As it tried to move inside to get a better opening the smaller of the blades caught it across its check and it barked in frustration. Just further on was another human, a bit smaller and trying to cover them both with its shield. The rampager wanted to attack that one, but the taunts and sweep of blades kept it fixed on Tradden.

As the blades swirled round it swung heavily with its flail at the young fighter's exposed flank.

The head merely caught in Tradden's blades and then bounced off Beltak's shield, leaving the orc with a numbed arm.

The plan had been simple. After blocking off the goblins route into the circle and forcing them to move well away from their own main force, the dwarf woman wanted to plug the next gap and wade through the enemy. This hobgoblin however was starting to annoy her.

It was off balance and reeling, however. This time she swung with a little more thought and a little less power. Bringing the maul back around from her left to right and smashing it into the hobgoblin's left flank. A little less power, but still plenty enough.

The hobgoblin gave little more than a death wheeze as it crumpled to the floor.

She stared at it with a hard look for a heartbeat, before lifting her gaze to the young, fancy dwarf. She jabbed her stubby finger back towards the centre of the circle shouting:

‘Go help your friends. I've got these maggot folk!’

It was not meant as a suggestion.

Without waiting for a response, she turned and sprinted at the goblins, starting a long drawn out cry. The first goblin looked on wide-eyed as the seemingly crazed dwarf ran straight at it.

It quickly drew back on it's bowstring and let off a panicked shot, but it flew wide of its mark.

As she drove on, the woman brought the head of the heavy maul right over her head, her shout growing louder.

Gripping the haft of the maul with both hands she smashed it down into the ground in the middle of the group of goblins, her shout growing louder still and rising in pitch as she did so.

Again, the ground heaved. It seemed to ripple and crack from the point the maul had struck. Great chunks and shards erupting in all directions as if the ground had been struck be a small meteor.

The three nearest goblins were blasted and shredded by the flying stone, buffeted and spun away by the force of the blow. The woman stood hunched and panting, in the centre of the small crater she had created, staring wide eyed and with gritted teeth at the remaining goblins, and holding her maul horizontally across herself with both hands.

‘Come and die you little bastards!’ she shouted.

Hiding behind its own stone, the remaining goblin to the southwest of the circle tried to spy the sniper over to the east. There he was, a human probably, and the goblin had struck him once. It drew back its bow in an attempt to hit him again.

The arrow bounced harmlessly off the rock protecting Zero, startling the rogue, but not harming him.

Quickly the goblin moved from behind its rock to another, slightly larger one, keeping cover.

The soldier had been pushed back by Tradden's last sweep and it was now out of formation with the others.

It was one short stride, however, and it was back in the line, the trio of soldiers in close alignment and their shields together. With formation established, it struck.

The young fighter was too quick, however, dancing now, with blades outstretched, in a world of his own.

Flat on its arse the rampager bellowed and rolled over.

Getting to its feet it looked for the human that had bowled it over. The human was moving about, waving swords about, but with another human behind it now, trying to protect him. Rage overcame senses and the orc decided to charge at the new enemy through the circle of swords.

As the orc charged past him Tradden's eyes lit up and as the creature attacked Beltak he tried to cut the thing's legs from beneath it before it could lay harm on the scribe.

The blade sliced into the orc's legs but it was made of stern stuff and it continued its charge.

The flail crashed into Beltak's shield, ringing out across the circle and crushing it against the scribe's body. The orc seemed to revel in the cuts, burns and blood it had spilt as the melee was just starting to heat up.

The largest of the orcs, despite being pushed about by Tradden's blades, did not seem too worried about the human. Confident in his own strength he roared at the other orcs and hobgoblins to crush the frail enemy before them.

As they returned his call with a singular shout the orc strode forwards to fill the gap in the group encircling the young fighter, though keeping a cautious eye on the whirling blades.

As he arrived in the slot he brought his huge axe to bear, swinging it in a wide arc, aiming for Tradden's flank.

Again, Beltak's shieldwork was masterful, deflecting the axe down into the ground instead of slicing into the young fighter's side.

The vines and brambles held Kireth fast, the thorns pulling at his robes ans scratching at his legs and arms. Where the thorns punctured the skin, particularly at his legs, the cold burnt him, searing agony all the way to his bones. He struggled to avoid blacking out.

Settling behind its shield, alongside its warrior comrades, the soldier felt relatively protected. They had the human surrounded now and although he was a whirl of blades — one had just nicked his ear — it would not be long before he succumbed.

In its confidence, however, the hobgoblin let its guard down for a second, a slight lowering of its shield, and in that instant Tradden's blade was there, slashing out at the creature's face, drawing a thin line of blood across its cheek.

It snorted with rage and swung round its flail at the young fighter in retaliation.

The swing was wild, though, and Tradden merely skipped to one side to avoid the blow.

Cut and grazed by chunks of stone from the ground beneath them the two goblins looked on in shock and fear. The hated dwarf before them looked wild, panting and shouting at them from the centre of a large depression she had wrought in the ground.

One of the goblins quivered, then dropped its bow, and then in a flash it was gone.

It scampered into the brush to the north and in a moment was lost to the dwarf's sight. It companion backed off a little, perhaps a tiny bit braver and pulled back on its bow.

Though the bow was shaking as the goblin released, the arrow flew true, heading for the dwarf’s chest. Rather than puncturing through and felling the dwarf, however, the arrow snapped at the impact as though it has struck solid stone and simply fell to the ground.

This goblin too turned tail and fled.

It managed somehow to keep hold of its bow in its clutches, crashing into the brush and disappearing to the north.

Beltak was very close to the melee now, and could smel the stale sweat of the hobgoblins and orcs, rank and putrid over the smell of blood. Tradden was sorely beset and although Khalin had crashed into the hobgoblin at Beltak's flank, they were still outnumbered.

As the skies began to darken he whispered a simple prayer to his deity, and a pulse of yellow light sped out across the battlefield from the symbol around his neck.

For a moment it blinded the orcs and hobgoblins and they howled as if struck. Beltak wasted no time in taking the distraction to continue his prayers, kneeling down and blessing the ground beneath him.

A web of crackling yellow sparks sprang into existence upon the dirt of the stone circle, surrounding the scribe and engulfing the calves of Tradden, Khalin and some of the enemy. Tradden, still spinning his blades, let out a whoop of joy and the hobgoblins shifted uncomfortably in their formation.

Not yet a veteran, Beltak was still unsure of his close quarter battle skills and took a step backwards out of the melee. ‘Khalin,’s he called. ‘Shore the gap!’

With less foes around him, he took stock, and tried to smash the shield out of the nearest hobgoblin's grasp.

The mace was like a searing torch now, lit up with radiant energy as if illuminating the way for all to follow. It crashed down on the hobgoblin's shield, not only knocking it from the creature's hand but following through and cracking through its ribs, drawing another cheer from Tradden.

The scribe was a little surprised himself. ‘They fall, Kireth!’ he shouted behind him, trying to rouse the spirits of the beleaguered mage.

The successful strike reverberated along Beltak's arm and the scribe backed away, opening up the avenue for Khalin.

With Tradden's blades whirling around it the hobgoblin soldier had to show its shield more than it swept with its flail. It waited patiently, though, for an opening.

It thought the opening had come and lowered its shield for a moment, only to be nicked again by one of the young fighter's blade slashing in from the side.

With a growl it took heart from the huge orc opposite, waiting for Tradden's attention to be drawn, and then struck with energy as his back was turned.

This one got through, catching Tradden on his lower back and rooting the young fighter back into the centre of the group.

Its comrades gone, its leaders far away at the other side of the circle, and this mad, crazed dwarf in front of it, the remaining goblin's tiny mind was made up in an instant.

This one managed to keep its bow in its shaking hands, but fled like the others, into the scrub to the north.

The bolt took the creature through its shoulder, just as it was about to strike at the young fighter. The pain was intense and in its confusing the creature's blow swung round towards its own comrade rather than the human in front of it.

The flail crashed into the legs of the orc chieftain leading to a howl of rage from the creature.

Bloodied and battered the orc rampagers were now worked up into a frenzy and it was difficult for them to avoid the slashes and sweeps of Tradden's blades.

Despite the cuts and nicks the orc was still standing and determined to wreak its revenge. Without fear for its own well-being the frenzy took over and it went on a true rampage.

In a rapid flurry of blows and sharp movements the creature struck out at Tradden, landed a blow that drove the wind from Khalin's sails and narrowly missed crushing the scribe's skull.

The dwarf woman watched the remaining goblins flee north into the woods, and had a strong desire to give chase. But the fight behind her was still on, and whoever these people were, they were still in danger. Besides, she had a lot of unanswered questions.

She started to pick her way across the blasted terrain she had created, the down side of her last assault, then broke into a run, but not directly towards the fight.

She kept on going, in a long wide arc.

The other orc was also in a frenzy, heedless of Tradden's flashing blades.

Blood flew in all directions as the steel ripped flesh. Where the blood rained down the radiant light from below its feet crackled upwards, clutching at its calves and searing the flesh where it reached.

It was too much for the creature, the force of the blades and the energy of Beltak's radiant light finally took its life.

Before it fell, however, some inner strength kept it moving, its last action in life, hatred spurring it on to exact as much chaos and pain it could.

The blows were like forge hammers from the flail, slamming into all three of the group, leaving them reeling.

At the cast of the last blow the orc went with it, falling into the dwarf and bouncing off Khalin's shield unceremoniously, landing flat onto its face with its energy spent.

The chieftain looked more set than the rampagers to avoid the young fighter's blows, but could not fend off all of the angles and directions that Tradden seemed to find.

Similarly, it could not avoid the light from below that crept into the bones of his feet and bottom of his legs.

The orcs were on top now, or so the chieftain thought. Its rampaging guard had staggered the group and it was now only a matter of time before they were victorious, despite one of the orcs falling. It roared an approval before striking out at the weakening Tradden.

The axe swept through Tradden's defences, knocking aside his blades and cutting into his midriff only moments after the orc that had fallen had hit the young fighter in the same place.

To the mage's dismay the chieftain barely flinched at the visions that must have crossed its mind with his first spell, and the creature hardly noticed the force bolt following it moments after. Whether it was crazed with bloody fervour or was simply made of some harder stuff, Kireth could not tell.

As the bolt of force slammed into the orc's chest, Tradden hoped it would go down, but the great beast still stood. His despair was lightened by the honeycomb crackling of Beltak's web of radiant energy that swam round his calves, supplying him with energy to continue the fight.

The web of crackling light around Khalin's feet warmed him, despite the chill of the air and the pain in his bones.

The warmth of Beltak's radiant light was not enough to put off the orc in front og him, however, the thing striking out in all directions as if taken by madness.

The scribe stood as the edge of his own zone of radiant light, trying to pen the orc into the burning light. He was too close to the rampaging orc, however, and despite his best effort with his shield, the creature's strikes still slipped through.

He kept his concentration, however, ensuring the radiant light did not fade.

The scribe could see Khalin was faring worst of all from the group and reached over when the orc was engaged with Tradden to let the dwarf's wounds heal with the power of Pelor's radiance.

With the dwarf on the mend, Beltak raised his shield and cautiously stepped back.

With his shield high, Beltak waited for an opening.

The chieftain raised its axe, ready to take down Tradden in front of it, the young fighter's flank exposed as he dealt with the rampager. It coughed, splattering blood all over the back of Tradden, and found it couldn't bring down the axe, needing to cough again.

For a moment it staggered, letting the axe fall limply to one side as it clutched at its face. Stuck in its jaw was a short, dark bolt, puncturing its cheek and trapping its tongue to the floor of its mouth, blood pooling out in vast gouts.

It tried to howl, but it came out more of a low moan.

Still foaming at the mouth, the rampager swung back its flail, but was caught by Tradden's whirling blades.

Like the hobgoblin's before it, the creature was finally sliced across the neck, ultimately taking its life.

It still managed to thrash even though its heart gave way, rounding in a vicious circle of swept flail at those surrounding it.

It was clumsy in its death throes, however, Tradden easily dancing to one side and even Kireth able to sidestep with some alacrity. The dwarf was not as quick, though, and took the full brunt of the force of the flail's head before the creature fell into the dirt.

Continuing her run, the dwarf woman glanced at the ongoing fight and was pleased to see it was nearly won. Or at least that the orcs and goblins had nearly lost. Only what she assumed was the leader remained. Given it was now heavily outnumbered, she assumed these others could finish the job.

She carried on her wide loop, angling to charge the orc from the rear but expecting not to have to do so.

The orc chieftain was now beset, its comrades all slain by the steel and sorcery of the group. It weighed up its options, trying still in vain to dodge the blades of Tradden.

The sword tips rang out against the rings of the orc's mail as they buffeted the figure and where the blades did not cut the radiant light from below burned.

It staggered back a little, trying to buy some time and space, but slipped on its own blood, still flowing freely from the lodged bolt in its jaw.

It's breathing became ragged, not just because of the wound, as it hefted its axe from hand to hand, looking for an opening to strike.

The blow was against Tradden's blades, trying to knock them from the young fighter's grasp, but it was poorly aimed and only deflected them for a moment.

The moment was enough, however, to allow it to back away safely, moving out of the crackling web of radiance and allowing it to catch more ragged breaths.

It tried to dislodge the bolt in its jaw now it had found itself a moment, but just grabbing the shaft led to sparks of pain, and the orc let it be.

The two bolts struck almost as one, thudding into the orc's midriff and releasing a gargling howl of anger.

For once Tradden could breathe fresh air, no longer surrounded by the stinking bodies of the orcs. He kept his blades whirling as the radiant energy of Beltak's web of light soothed his limbs.

Khalin's calves bathed in the sweet, warm radiance of Beltak's strange web of light.

Beltak held his position for a moment, concentrating on the radiant web before him, praying to Pelor for its continuance.

The crackling energy remained where it was and Beltak's thoughts turned to the orc, still standing, before the group.

He raised his symbol from the chain around his neck and began the prayer. A searing ray of light shot from its centre, straight into the orc's face.

Despite the intensity of the light the orc seemed unaffected.

On the one hand, this fight was starting to drag. She had covered a lot of ground running to and fro, thwarting the orcs and goblins and funnelling them into areas she could batter them in. She had also called upon the earth a lot using the land as a weapon. It was exhausting, and she was well past her youth, her face wrinkled and her hair turning grey. But on the other hand, she was still whole and hale, have only suffered light wounds so far, and was still fully capable of handing out further batterings to those who needed them. And this was keeping her occupied. This whole situation was utterly baffling. But right now, questions would wait. Smashing her maul into Orcs was something she fully understood and was quite good at.

The large orc was still engaged by these others and she continued her wide run to bring her around to attack from behind. She contemplated trying to put the thing on the floor, but it seems unnecessarily complicated. Just hitting it as hard as she could seemed a simpler and satisfying course of action.

She set the legs pumping faster again as she charged the orc, not caring for quarter. Her maul smashed into its upper back with a bone jarring crunch. To its credit the large orc took the blow well, but it was a suitable way for her to introduce herself. That and the full blooded scream she gave as she smashed it.

The orc was beset from all sides, now, with the dwarf crashing into it. Tradden's blades were still whirling around in arcs and there was no blocking them.

The bolt in its jaw was still surrounded by gouts of blood — the orc must have lost a huge amount, yet it still stood.

Rather than swing its axe around, the orc let go with one of its hands and went to its stomach. Khalin could see it grab some linen cloth at the base of its chain harness and it choked a laugh, bubbling up blood and spitting it out over Tradden's blades.

With a short yank it pulled the linen cloth, tearing it in two. Tradden took the opening to bring down a heavy strike with his longsword, but there was a pop and a gush of air and the orc appeared to have fallen to the floor.

Tradden's strike continued down and sliced into the body at his feet — the corpse of the hobgoblin mage Zero had dispatched with a bolt through the neck not long ago.

The group quickly looked round for the orc and spotted it where Zero had felled the warcaster, orienting itself and looking for a route of escape. With a loping and limping run it headed for the south of the stone circle, blood dripping from its jaw.

It covered the ground quickly but carefully, looking back as if in anticipation of another missile from the rogue.

It continued its movement, getting further away from the group as best it could, heading for the cover of the stones and perhaps out into the scrub beyond.

With one hand on its axe, the other strayed to the bolt, still firm and proud. The orc tried to push and pull to see if he could remove it, howling and gurgling in pain.

It was no use — the bolt was stuck — so the orc continued its run towards the south.

The orc's eyes rolled for a moment and it staggered back a foot or two, looking as if it were going to topple.

Then focus came back to its face and despite the gouts of blood still pouring from its jaw it gurgled a shout of rage and threw itself at the young fighter.

The blow from the axe threw Tradden back against one of the monoliths with a crack, taking the wind from his sails, and nearly knocking the young fighter out.

Beltak followed Khalin's lead, forsaking the zone of radiant light where the orc had once been and ran off behind the dwarf.

The crackling web of radiant energy began to dissipate as the scribe ran, as he looped round to get at least close to the orc.

He pulled up short, almost out of breath, ready for action.

The bolt whistled harmlessly by this time, the small hand crossbow the portly rogue held not the most accurate at longer distance. It was definitely the crossbow, not his aim that was off, Zero decided.

The orc vanished before her with a small pop, small swirls and eddies of water vapour moving to fill the space it occupied a moment before. She looked around and saw it a short distance away, already running to the south. The group around her started to give chase, sprinting to catch up with it.

She started to turn that way but stopped and just looked around her. She had been waiting, confused. Bodies lay strewn on the ground, she charged around and killed things in an orgy of action after… after what?

She was tired and the orc was fleeing. If it came back again, she would kill it. She started walking slowly towards the centre of the circle again. Not knowing what else to do.

Despite the obvious strength of the orc — Tradden could account for its power — . However, it had to be on the wane, surely. The bolt from Zero's crossbow was still protruding from the side of its face and blood was pouring from the wound.

With Khalin in close attendance, the orc chose to spit a gobbet of its cheek, slick with blood, at the dwarf, before it carefully moved back out of the reach of the warlord's weapon.

As it moved back, the ghostly claws that had surrounded the orc's legs from Kireth's spell clutched and raked, trying to hold the orc in place.

The orc's strength showed once more, though, and it backed into the gap between the monolith of Ioun and the monolith of the strange clawed figure.

Facing the party, it tried to roar, the bolt preventing it from truly expressing its hatred.

Then, with a long lingering stare at Zero, it turned and fled, disappearing into the scrub to the south.