Boztun Badlands, Klos 15th, 350AC, 15:40  (dusk, 31 degrees, new moon)

[audio:https://gwevolution.netfarious.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/desolation.mp3|autostart=yes]

The chowzers around Phallon and Sir Cyr continue to gabber and appear to be getting agitated with each other.  Cyr makes a few snarls in what you assume is the badder language.  Then says in trade tongue, “No fighting now.  This is a moment of truce.  Be quiet.”

Phallon and the loyal chowzer rejoin the rest of the group.  Sir Cyr, and his 3 chowzers stand a few paces away.  Cyr plants the butt end of his spear into the snow and lets go of it.  He then slides the face plate of his helmet up and back over his head.

“I am Sir Cyr of Ukrul.  I know the king’s anger against your people, and perhaps how you can avoid ten hundred badder warriors marching upon your burrow.  I think maybe you are the ones who took Fort Akton last year?  I presume you are the one we call ‘the Thunder Horse’?  What are your names?  And are you the leaders of your clan?  If not, maybe you have the ear of those who can decide…”

Boztun Badlands, Klos 15th, 350AC, 15:39  (dusk, 31 degrees, new moon)

[audio:https://gwevolution.netfarious.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/revenge.mp3|autostart=yes]

Phallon slowly walks forward, and the “loyal” chowzer stays by his side.  The creatures of Big Ax continue to walk forward, except for a handful of chowzers who quickly move clockwise to encircle your group.  The badder archers each hold an arrow loosely on their bowstring.

The northern group of creatures and Phallon get to within 5 meters of one another, and everyone stops.  Numerous rodent eyes bear down on Phallon, and he sees their breath in the cold air.  The huge choo wop steps down from the chowzers bearing him.  He settles heavily in the snow.  He grips his battle ax, which Phallon notices must be custom made, and of excellent craftsmanship.

He bares his incisors and spats out thickly accented trade tongue in a deep voice, “I Grulhar, chief of Big Ax.  You, enemy, has walked our lands.  I want kill you and happy, feed you to young.  But Badder King, his badders, want to talk.  Talk then, but know this.  I look to fight.”

(cheezy rushed pic, but you get the idea)

The armored badder rides his chowzer forward a few paces, ahead of the group, looking like a bizarre miniature knight.  Looking down (barely – even on the chowzer he is barely 7′ off the ground) at Phallon, he says in snarling trade tongue, “I am Sir Cyrr.  King Rrullka of Ukrul has sent a messenger to demand terms from your town.”  He curls back his lips in a sharp toothy smile?  “He is not here, but I think it best for you to talk to me.”  He points at the rest of your group.  “We all talk together, no?”

The chowzer bearing Sir Cyr and your “loyal Chowzer” start to squeek and gabber at each other.

What now?

Boztun Badlands, Klos 15th, 350AC, 15:38  (dusk, 31 degrees, new moon)

[audio:https://gwevolution.netfarious.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/ukrul.mp3|autostart=yes] 

Yellow-white light blazes from Arvak’s glow cube, lighting up the area very well.  Seven chowzers to your north and east enter the edge of your visible light (about 25 meters away) and stop, snarling at your group.  After a few moments, five more walk into the light.  These are carrying riders:  two of them bear the weight of an 8′ tall albino choo wop, who wields a huge battle ax.  The others each carry a badder.  Two are archers wearing studded leather armor.  The last badder is wearing armor made of duralloy plates, complete with a helmet some of you recognize as the ones worn by badder hoplite warriors.  This one sports a black plume.  The badder carries a metal shield and spear.

They slow down as they approach.  The chowzers not carrying riders start to fan out.

Any actions at this point?

Boztun Badlands, Klos 15th, 350AC, 15:35  (dusk, 31 degrees, new moon)

[audio:https://gwevolution.netfarious.net/wp-content/uploads/2010/05/descent.mp3|autostart=yes]

The four of you discuss your next plan of action.  To your west, you can hear the rushing river down in a dark gully.  Everywhere else, you can only see the snow covered ground for a short distance before it fades into darkness.

Your characters realise that something is moving to your north and getting closer.  Looking into the dark, you sense vague movement, and briefly catch the eyeshine of a number of creatures coming your way…

What now?

Boztun Badlands, Klos 15th, 350AC, 15:30  (dusk, 32 degrees, new moon)

After 5 more minutes of marching, you come across an improbable sight.  Odin’s Warhammer lies on the path.  In the dim light, you might have missed it, if it wasn’t for the pale background of the snow.

To the north, in the distance, you start to hear the all-too-familiar shrieks of your rodent enemies.

Boztun Badlands, Klos 15th, 350AC, 15:25  (dusk, 32 degrees, new moon)

Arvak, Ragnor, and Zeebo crunch through the snow, following the faint footprints along the river.  The chowzer easily hops along next to them.  The sun is now well under the horizon, and the sky turns from red-pink colors to a faint blue. 

The faster chowzer soon disapears from view.  At its rate, it has clearly passed beyond the hill to your north.  Your group is gaining on the slower chowzer, but it is still over a half mile away, and it appears it will reach that hill long before you will.  As it gets darker, you can no longer see it clearly.  Your group can see some dark silhouettes of what appears to be buildings or other “man-made” structures, just to the northwest of the hill.

Boztun Badlands, Klos 15th, 350AC, 14:54   (sunset, 35 degrees, new moon)

Your group quickly reaches the bottom of the ridge.  Once on level ground you slowly continue north, following the chowzers in the distance.  Phallon is still in his trance.