Darkworld IC

[Zed's Dead]

Darkworld, Chapter One: North

Where has the horse gone?
Where has the warrior gone?
Where has the giver of treasure gone?
Where have the banquet seats gone?
Where are the revelries in the hall?

Alas, bright cup!
Alas, armored warrior!
Alas, princely splendor!
How that time has passed away,
Grown dark under cover of night,
As if it had never been!

--spoken by an unnamed warrior-poet, long dead. It is said he was a Wanderer.

It is the eleventh month, Blotmonað, a time of need and of sacrifice. The sun is not yet truly setting, but it seems instead to be flickering on the horizon. All around you is foot-deep snow. You are traveling through the foothills of God's Teeth. There are sparse trees here, but the sharp-eyed among you say they can see a deep wood close by and beyond that, more snow.

You are headed north. There is nowhere else to go. If you look toward the northern horizon without shielding your eyes, the fast-falling, silent snow flies into your face, blinding you. Most keep their eyes on the ground. The caravan, once a bold force of fifty-two, is now a group of twenty-eight haggard souls bound for Stone--each for his or her own reasons. The two surviving merchants were forces to leave their wagons behind. They cut the horses free two days ago and mounted them bareback. Seven caravaners are walking. The seriously injured are on horses.

The wolves have been tracking your caravan for three days and nights and are no longer satisfied with picking off the stragglers. Last night was the most bitter fight. Two of the gigantic, wild-eyed wolves were slain, but nine defenders died outright and four of the critically wounded had to be left behind. The pain of that loss might still stick in your throat. There is not one among you who remains uninjured.

...froze. Her blood. It froze. Her blood. It froze. Her blood. It froze. Her...

Edder, a boy of about thirteen, will not shut up. He as been moaning the same words since dawn, when his mother was bitten nearly in two by a wolf's snapping jaw. Cullen, the de-facto leader, a hard-bitten man, has little hope for the boy's mind and spirit and he suggests in hushed tones that you should leave him for the wolves.

They may pause for him just long enough, see? We ain't far from Stone. Just an hour or so.

You hear a piercing howl to the East. Perhaps a mile off. They are coming.

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Welcome to Darkworld. You have had fitful snatches of sleep for three days. Fatigue has set in. Make a fortitude saving throw in a spoiler under your post (DC 20). If you fail your save, you have only been able to muster the stamina to prepare 1/2 (rounded down) your normal number of spells today. If you make the save, you have a full spell list. Select your prepared spells accordingly. See the OC thread for details on the changes to spell preparation.

Roll 1d12 and subtract the number from your HP total. This is the numerical equivalent of your injuries. Please post your total current HP in the spoiler.

Because you've suffered their attacks before, you know you have several minutes to prepare before the attack begins in earnest. The wolves thus far have begun with howling at a distance, circling the caravan, and taking hesitant lunges at the party, which become more and more bold until chaotic melee breaks out. You judge that the pack last night numbered about 18 wolves. Two were killed and several were injured in some way, so you may be fighting 16 wolves. The wolves, by the way, are almost as big as your horses.

[GeekLord]

Kralkar, Barbarian/Sorcerer

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(1d20+4)[5] Fortitude save for spells per day...I assume spontaneous casters may cast only half their daily spells if they fail this save?

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(1d12)[6] current damage subtracted from 39 hit points

Exhaustion drags at Kralkar as he trudges forward into the driven snow, following the tracks of those ahead of him. The bitter wind licks at his exposed skin with razor tongues, and cuts its way through his thick winter furs. It has been hours since he last felt his feet.

A howl drifts eerily through the snow, and the gelding pulls restlessly against the reins Kralkar grips in a stiff hand. "Whoa," he murmurs, "settle down." His numb lips distort the words, but not the calm he projects toward the warhorse. The figure slumped on the gelding's back makes no response, and Kralkar checks the knots holding the figure in the saddle. He doesn't know the man, only that he was a member of the caravan injured when the wolves attacked. Traveling on horseback has broken open his wounds, and fresh blood stains his thigh. Untended, he cannot last much longer, but Kralkar keeps moving grimly forward. Their only safety lies in reaching Stone, and stopping to tend the injured will doom them all. The strong will survive and the weak will fall. That is the way of things.

"I have no intention of falling," Kralkar mutters. His horse whickers nervously. Gripping the reins in his teeth, Kralkar beats his hands together to get the blood flowing and works the stiffness out of his fingers. His eyes track to the east as another howl pierces through the quickening wind, and he unconsciously resettles his sword in its sheath. It won't be long now. The caravan will need to tighten its formation defensively before the wolves attack, or none of them will survive to reach Stone. Kralkar peers forward into the snow, searching for the blunt figure of Cullen.

[Zimmia]

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Fort save: (1d20+5)[25]
Injuries: (1d12)[1]
HP 41/42

Daar, Barbarian/Cleric

Daar found, the spirits smiling on her, that she was not as injured as some. Quite some time ago now she had put herself as far away from the caravan leader as possible and hearing his ruthless comment made her want to stalk over to him and smack him in the face. Instead, she drew her sword and looked quickly to see if anything in the landscape nearby would allow them a more defensible position rather than letting the wolves completely surround.

[harmonictempest]

Arlen

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Fort - (1d20+3)[9] --> half spells today
HP - (1d12)[9] --> 15/24 HP remaining

(Knowledge nature and geography rolls, respectively)
Know1 - (1d20+13)[25]
Know2 - (1d20+8)[18]

(Arlen's Spot/Listen rolls)
Spot1 - (1d20+14)[16]
Listen1 - (1d20+11)[12]

(Sul's Spot/Listen rolls)
Spot2 - (1d20+16)[19]
Listen2 - (1d20+18)[37]

Arlen leans heavily into the wind, bracing himself against the next gust. The last few days had been torture, and more than once he had longed to slip into the shadows and leave this dangerously large group behind, but his conscience prevented him. He sighs as Cullen again threatens that poor young lad, hoping he won't have to stop the caravan leader doing anything rash. Keeping his opinions to himself for now, he peers forward into the gathering gloom. "Might as well get ready for this fight - doesn't look like we'll be avoiding this one" he mutters softly to Sul, who sits unhappily bunched up on his shoulder, her wings drawn as closely to her as possible. "Why don't you go up for a little bit, see if you can't spot those wolves coming and get us some warning, eh? A little fight will get the blood moving, and sure." Sul nibbles his ear gently and then takes off, her broad wings silent in the falling snow. Arlen sighs. These were NOT ideal conditions for a fight, but they'd have to make the most of it. As he looks around, hoping to see somewhere better for a fight than this open road, he racks his brain again, trying to remember what he knew of wolves' weaknesses and the countryside they'd been traveling through, looking for anything that might lend advantage in the coming fight.

[Tura]

Elva

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Fortitude save: (1d20+6)[24]
HP loss: (1d12)[4]

Knowledge (nature): (1d20+13)[14]
Spot: (1d20+8)[20]
Listen: (1d20+8)[23]

The howl from afar made the thick-coated dog by Elva's side stiffen and growl. "Shh, easy, Gray", said Elva, and looked wearily ahead, with a hand before her eyes. The journey had been perilous enough even without the wolves. Plunging her staff through the snow with every arduous step, and wincing every time her injured leg landed at the wrong angle, she nevertheless tried to look around without slowing down. If they surround us, we're lost.

But Cullen's comment about Edder startled her, and her head felt dizzy for a moment. Leave the boy for the wolves? It was as if the gods were testing her. She saw reason in Cullen's words, and good reason. But something told her that she couldn't possibly accept it, not yet. She pushed back the thought and turned once again to the east. Maybe, beyond all hope, they could hold them back. Maybe she could hold them back.

[Zed's Dead]

Arlen:

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You feel Sul's presence in your mind. A sense of worry pervades her thoughts. She is only worried like this when you are in great personal danger. You get the impression she doesn't believe that the odds are good. She urges you forward, towards the forest. Perhaps she sees shelter, or perhaps she believes you would be more at home in the trees.

You look into the woods ahead, but the snow is coming down even harder, making it difficult to see anything but a green/black blur. The wolves are closer. perhaps 1/2 a mile. You, like the others, hear the howl of the leader. Unlike the others, you can also hear the answering yips and barks of the pack. You count around twenty, but you don't know whether some have repeated their answer.

You know running from these wolves is useless. They probably rested all day in a warm cave nearby after last night's battle. Even in the best of situations, the pack could wear down your swifter, heavily burdened horses. As it stands, the horses are at the last of their strength.

Daar:

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Your cursory glance around reveals nothing. Perhaps if you looked harder...

Kralkar:

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While you work out the kinks in your joints, you hear more howling in the woods. The wolves are closing in.

Tura:

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You, like the others, hear the howl of the leader. Unlike the others, you can also hear the answering yips and barks of the pack. You count around twenty, but you don't know whether some have repeated their answer. You are standing on a rise which allows you to see the pattern of trees in the distance. They suggest that there might be higher ground in the forest.

Cullen spurs his horse toward the woods. It gallops clumsily through the deep snow, kicking up a spray. Yesterday, when the snow started, he warned the caravan about behavior like this. He's apparently decided to make a run for it.

One of the merchants, a man named Srat, follows him closely.

The horses' ears are back, and their eyes are wide with fear.

Bren's Mum, who was riding with Bren beside her, startles at the howls ringing through the growing gloom. Bren barely holds her on her horse.

[GeekLord]

Kralkar, barbarian/sorcerer

Kralkar spits a curse into the frosty air as he sees Cullen galloping clumsily toward the trees followed closely by one of the merchants. The fools! They've doomed themselves...and maybe the rest of us too. The thoughts flash through Kralkar's head before a flurry of wind-blown snow hides the men from his sight. As quickly, Kralkar puts them out of his mind.

Sensing shifting movement in the people around him, Kralkar raises his voice. "Hold! HOLD! Keep your place!" The impulse to follow their leader would have the caravaners strung out along the trail, exhausting themselves and their horses in a futile dash for the trees. Their only hope for survival lies in maintaining discipline and not giving the approaching wolves any openings. Kralkar injects confidence into his voice and projects it through the swirling snow. "Cullen has purchased us an opportunity. Stay together and we'll reach Stone." His voice is hammered steel. "Separate and you'll never see the dawn."

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(1d20+11)[25] Bluff check to appear confident and calm.
(1d20+9)[29] Perform (oratory) check if you need it.

[harmonictempest]

Arlen, ranger/wizard

Idiot. Even the thought leaves a vile taste in Arlen's mouth. If you lose your head out here, it gets bitten off. He paused abruptly as he felt the familiar touch of the owl in his mind. Safer in the forest? He peered again through the windswept snow into which Cullen and Srat had disappeared, unable to see much more than that there was a forest. Still, knowing the bird to be as wilderness-canny as he, he trusted her.

"Hold! HOLD! Keep your place! Stay together and we'll reach Stone. Separate and you'll never see the dawn."

Good man - panic is the last thing we need. Still, "Yes, but we're too unprotected here! We have time to make for the forest in that direction, where we'll be better able to protect ourselves! We can't outrun the wolves, but if we make a stand, we may be able to drive them back long enough to get to Stone."
Arlen put as much force into the words as possible, but knowing actions would speak louder, he stood his mount off the trail a few feet, towards the forest, and turned to see who would follow. Standing there in the stunted grass at the roadside, it was difficult to avoid holding his breath, for what happened next would be crucial.

[Zed's Dead]

"Cullen has purchased us an opportunity. Stay together and we'll reach Stone." His voice is hammered steel. "Separate and you'll never see the dawn."

The rag-tag group turns as one and stares with desperation at at Kralkar. Several of the men and women straighten visibly and tighten their grips on their weapons. A tall, sinewy woman raises her spear. Her eyes are wide with fear, but her voice is strong.

What can we do? The wolves only left us this morning because they had enough meat! Our leader has run. You're here. What do we do? Make our stand here?

"Yes, but we're too unprotected here! We have time to make for the forest in that direction, where we'll be better able to protect ourselves! We can't outrun the wolves, but if we make a stand, we may be able to drive them back long enough to get to Stone."

Three heads turn to look at Arlen, but just then, another piercing cry splits the air from the west and dozens of howls answer.

[Zed's Dead]

Zimmia:

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You look desperately around the area for a defensible position. You count seven wolves stalking through the shadows in the woods to the west. Squinting against the snow in the fading light, you think you see an orange-yellow flicker in the woods to the North. Fire? You can't be sure.

[Zimmia]

Daar, Barbarian/Cleric

"I can see... seven from the west" Daar says in a quiet voice, "and... what is that?" she speaks more to herself of the flicker of light in the north. First things first however, the wolves are approaching. "They're right," she raises her voice and agrees in as an authoritative voice as she can manage. "Together we can make a stand - it's out best chance." 'and maybe our only one,' came the unvoiced thought.

[Tura]

Elva

Elva begins to move forward, but the howling and Daar's warning makes her stop on her track. She tries to make out the position of the wolves, where Daar pointed. "Gray, stay next to me." she says as calmly as possibly, while she fidgets with her torc. She then holds it tightly, stands still with half-closed eyes for a moment, and offers a prayer to the gods. When she opens her eyes wide open again, she seems resolved and stronger, and the elkhound beside her growls once more.

"Ready your bows and spears!" she shouts, and turns to Edder "Stay back, boy, quickly" she whispers and points to the east. "Go!" she says, and turns west once again.
Now, where are they?

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spot: (1d20+8)[14]
listen: (1d20+8)[28]

[harmonictempest]

Arlen, ranger/wizard

Hearing another set of howls, Arlen grimaces. Time was running out, and they were still exposed on this road. He turned to the fur-bundled, russet-haired man who had just calmed everyone down, who was just a few feet away. "Kralkar, right? We need to get off this road; there will be better protection in the woods just to the north. We've got a minute or two before the wolves arrive - will you help me get the caravan to the woods before then?"

[GeekLord]

Kralkar

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](1d100)[39] Spell failure check

The chorus of wolfsong is alien, pitiless...and eerily beautiful, Kralkar notes distantly, even as he thrusts the reins of his horse into the hands of a walking caravaner. "Stay with the group," he growls. Someone speaks his name, and Kralkar turns to the dark-haired elf.

We need to get off this road; there will be better protection in the woods just to the north. We've got a minute or two before the wolves arrive - will you help me get the caravan to the woods before then?

"Aye, we’d do well to reach cover before the wolves arrive, although they're moving fast. But we can't follow Cullen's lead and scatter." Kralkar spits in the snow. "We'll all arrive together or not arrive at all, I’m thinkin'. Gotta keep 'em focused. Lemme see what I can do."

"Ready your bows and spears!"

Someone else is thinking. Good. We might have a chance after all. Kralkar reaches into his pouch and takes out a pinch of powdered iron. He feels the power thrumming in his blood, pushing restlessly against his carefully crafted barriers. Kralkar concentrates, giving the power a purpose and offering it release with a whispered word and gesture. The energy leaps eagerly to his command, coursing through his body, crackling along veins, tendons, ligaments, bone, muscle, reshaping it as its master desires. The familiar pain fades, and Kralkar grins toothily down at the elf...from twice his previous height. His voice is deeper and booms through the deepening gloom.

"Form up on me! All torches and spears to the outside of the group. Make noise and don't give the wolves any openings. Those with bows, use them before the wolves close. Injured and noncombatants to the middle of the group. Whatever you do, stay together, stay with me, and don't stop moving!" Kralkar steps to the front of the group, unlimbering his sword and adjusting his perceptions to his new size while his eyes scan the terrain to the west.

[GeekLord]

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(1d20+3)[5] Spot check

[Zimmia]

Daar, Barbarian/Cleric

Even as Kralkar begins to channel his great arcane power, Daar lifts her gaze momentarily to the skies, praying in the quick heavily accented speech of Uruk. Moments later Daar too begins to stretch and grow in size. She couldn't help but notice some of the caravanners shrink back from her. Dismissing that, she nodded to Kralkar and then started to scoop the people from the rear. "Let's not wait too long," she says in a quiet voice, "we can use all the time we can get."

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Spot: (1d20+8)[22]
Listen: (1d20+11)[31]

[harmonictempest]

Arlen, ranger/wizard

Looking over his two newly-large companions, Arlen grunted his satisfaction. Their added strength would be balanced by their cumbersome new size, but now they were as large as the wolves, and could hold the line for the group. With them holding the first charge off, he'd have a moment to prepare. Speaking quickly and loudly to himself in strange words, he quickly traced a large rectangle in front of him in the air. After waiting a moment, he plunked a finger into the space, and nodded to himself as his finger struck the invisibly hardened air. That ought to provide a little more protection...
Then, he straightened, reviewing his gear and assuring himself it was all in the correct place - bow and arrows at the ready, pack open in case a quick retrieval was needed.

The snow slowed, then, as animal and man stared across the meadow at each other. Warned by Sul a moment before, Arlen was already waiting when the wolves came into view. Surveying the little group, he gave a grim smile as Sul soared back into view and perched on his shoulder. They'd not go without a fight, at any rate.

Quickly, he called up a powerful conjuration to trap the wolves at the edge of the woods, hoping his spellcasting would go mostly unnoticed while everyone was still staring at either the woods or his newly enlarged comrades. Teasing a small spiderweb out of his belt pouch, he whispered words of power to it, before opening his hands. The ethereal white wisp whizzed out into the snow, hardly visible against the slowly floating flakes. As it reached the wolves, however, it blossomed into an enormous sticky net, attaching itself to two trees and flying toward the group of wolves with deadly precision.

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"The snow slowed" indicates where we entered initiative. Casting Web IF the wolves are in range (130 ft), and I can catch a fair number of them in it (40 ft diameter circle). I'm assuming with that Initiative roll that I'll be first or nearly first, so I will *definitely* cast it if I go first and they're all still at the edge of the woods. Reflex save DC 15, and moving in it has special rules. If they're not in range, or if I really can't catch more than two or three of them in that area, I'll do something else, but I'm pretty sure that action should work with my initiative.

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Initiative - (1d20+3)[18]
Spell failure - (1d20)[13] (if needed; spell fails on a 1)

[Zed's Dead]

The light is fading, and the snow has momentarily slowed.

Three heads turn to look at Arlen, but just then, another piercing cry splits the air from the west and dozens of howls answer.

Four wolves rush out from the trees in a wedge formation and cut off Cullen, the Merchant, and their exhausted horses from the tree line. Cullen and the Merchant swerve to the East to escape them, but the wolves are faster, and they all disappear over a hill to the Northeast.

In a few moments, the screams of the horses and the men resonate through the gloom.

__________________________________________________ _________

The familiar pain fades, and Kralkar grins toothily down at the elf...from twice his previous height. His voice is deeper and booms through the deepening gloom. "Form up on me!"

The entire party at once shrinks away from Kralkar, a few even turning their spears to threaten the giant. Momentarily, the wolves are forgotten.

It's witchcraft!

He's huge!

The entire group freezes.

The old woman shouts at the top of her quavering voice. He's on our side, you fools! I've seen his kind before! He'll fight with us if you let him!

I'll fight by your side, Kralkar. The tall woman who questioned you moments before now turns to the west and readies her weapon for the onslaught. Immediately, the survivors move quickly to carry out Kralkar's orders. The weak and injured are surrounded by burly men with ashen spears and yew bows. Those with torches are ready to strike, remembering that last night, one of the wolves was injured with fire from a broken lantern. The loosely organized group moves cautiously toward the woods to the north.

When Daar, too, grows to twice her size, some shy away, but many smile and there are even a few hopeful cheers.

Eighteen wolves emerge from the forest. Their eyes flash in the twilight and low growl emanate from their throats. The most eager ones lope directly toward the caravan.

Edder watches with wide eyes.

blood...blood...blood...blood.

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roll initiative, please

[Zed's Dead]

Zimmia:

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You recognize the leader (a huge black wolf which towers over his pack) near the tree line to the west. He must have been injured last night, because he walks with a limp. You can hear the whines of at least a dozen other wolves hidden in the trees.

[GeekLord]

Kralkar

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(1d20)[13] Initiative roll (-1 fatigued, -1 size modifier = +0 mod)
(1d100)[21] Spell failure check for Shield

Eighteen wolves emerge from the forest. Their eyes flash in the twilight and low growl emanate from their throats. The most eager ones lope directly toward the caravan.

Kralkar grins savagely as the first wolves sweep into view. Adrenaline surges through his veins, shocking away the fatigue and filling his huge frame with pre-battle euphoria. He begins to chuckle under his breath, the sound growing in his chest until it bursts from his lungs into the winter night. "Haha! Hahaha! Come then, you winter spawn! We're ready for you now!"

Recklessly he taps into his nearly depleted store of arcane power and shapes his spell, then holds his hand out toward the approaching wolves and concentrates. Beyond his palm, air shimmers briefly. Kralkar grunts approval and lowers his hand. Snow drifts toward the barbarian and slides across an invisible surface hovering in the air on his left side.

Kralkar glances over his shoulder to make sure the spears and torches are in position and sees a young man stumble, terror evident in every awkward move. Kralkar catches his fear-filled eyes and winks reassuringly. "Chin up, lad. This'll be quite the tale to tell your grandkids, eh? Stay with me and you'll be alright." His voice is filled with eager confidence and is pitched to reach the ears of every member of the group as they move together toward the trees.

[Zimmia]

Daar, Barbarian/Cleric

Sheparding the remaining people along, Daar squints and peers out into the night. She sees the leader and a surge of hope wafts through her. "The leader - the big black one - he is injured," she says in a sotto voce meant to reach Kralkar in front and not beyond. 'If the leader goes down, they might break' she says to herself, forming a plan. She looks around again, hoping to see a cave or other place where they could mount a proper defense. Seeing none, she resigns herself to the trial in front of them.

It would be ironic, she reflected, if she came all this way from Vaalah only to perish within a days walk of Stone. She quickly dismissed the thought, confident that the spirits had a much different plan for her, and that part of her trial may well be to see that these people reach Stone safely. "Keep moving" she encourages the terrified caravanners. "We will be all right."

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Initiative (minus 2 - 1 for size and 1 for exhaustion) (1d20)[6]
Current AC is 16 (minus 1 for exhaustion, and -1 for size)

[Zed's Dead]

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Round One
Initiative
18 Arlen
13 Kraalkar
11 Wolves
6 Daar
5 Wolf Leader
5 NPCs
4 Elva

[GeekLord]

Kraalkar

The wolves weave their way through the trees and flow smoothly over the snow toward the group. One scarred beast lopes ahead of the others, its eyes gleaming with ferocious hunger. Kraalkar gauges its movement and as it comes within reach swings his heavy sword in a diagonal cut at the wolf's neck.

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(1d20+7)[14] Attack roll
(3d6+4)[16] Damage roll

"Stay to my right and keep moving!" he yells to the group, and moves forward. Daar's words register with him and he gestures to the south. "Archers, focus on the big black one!"

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5-foot step to K/L 14/15

[Zed's Dead]

Quickly, he called up a powerful conjuration to trap the wolves at the edge of the woods, hoping his spellcasting would go mostly unnoticed while everyone was still staring at either the woods or his newly enlarged comrades. Teasing a small spiderweb out of his belt pouch, he whispered words of power to it, before opening his hands. The ethereal white wisp whizzed out into the snow, hardly visible against the slowly floating flakes. As it reached the wolves, however, it blossomed into an enormous sticky net, attaching itself to two trees and flying toward the group of wolves with deadly precision.

The effect was immediate. Eight wolves were bound tightly by the strange, sticky substance. Their menacing growls turned to high-pitched confused whines. Even those who weren't caught directly had trouble inching their way through the mess.

The large black leader, injured as she was, became furious at the sight of her children being trapped. She rushed through the deep snow and closed on the first prey she could see. Viciously and without thought for her own safety, the massive wolf leaped upon her prey and savagely tore at Daar's left arm, which she had instinctively raised to protect her neck.

Daar:

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Take 13 points of damage.

Kraalkar's sword came down in a huge sweeping arc and buried itself in the snow where the wolf had been standing. The wolf lunged at Kraalkar's sword arm, but missed, his teeth snapping in the frigid air. A third wolf ran carefully around the strange sticky substance, shot across the snow, sunk his teeth into Kraalkar's leg, and locked his jaws upon his prey.

Kraalkar:

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Take 12 points of damage.

The last rays of the sun evaporated into the aether.

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Here's the new, updated map.

[Zimmia]

Daar, Barbarian/Cleric

As the teeth of the wolf-leader tears into her left arm, Daar grunts with the pain, her adrenaline pumping to even higher levels. In a great voice she shouts "og’ll bur arur barnarls harlarl aru gland!" With another growl she swings her blade at the wolf, with a hope that her spirit ancestors were watching over her at that point.

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Attack: (1d20+6)[22]
Damage: (2d6+3)[10]

[Zed's Dead]

Daar's blade makes a swift slice to the she-wolf's exposed shoulder. The wound gapes, but the large, black thing doesn't seem to notice. She bared her teeth and growls savagely.

As if they were awed before by blindingly fast battle going on around them, the other members of the failed caravan finally come to their senses. The
bowmen do as they are told and try to the best of their ability to shoot the black wolf attacking Daar before moving north with the rest of the caravan.

Most miss, and the arrows whiz into the blackness, but two steel tips bite deeply into the she-wolf's side. She seems not to notice.

Screaming his battle-cry at the top of his lungs, Jeb (a citizen of Stone) runs forward and thrusts his ashen spear at the gaping mouth of the mother wolf. She sidesteps and bites the spear below its deadly head, snapping it like dry bone.

Ulula silently and swiftly closes on one of the wolves trapped in the sticky net and thrusts her spear into its side, so deeply that the wolf cries out in shock and pain. Uluia uses the momentum of her thrust to twist the ash-wood shaft of her spear until the very life of the wolf spills out upon the snow.

There ya go, missy! Give the bitch her due!The old woman shakes her fist in the air as she is led on horseback. Her rheumy eyes reflect the torchlight. I've not felt so alive in years!
Another fighter, the one who killed the wolf with fire the night before, runs into the dark without a torch, following Uluia. His momentum carries him directly into the mire. Worse yet, he falls beside a wolf which is struggling to move forward. He screams in fear in spite of himself.

Imbris, eager to prove himself, runs to take a flanking position behind the wolf Kraalkar is fighting. He passes too near his enemy, and the wolf snaps at him, laying open Imbris' left forearm.

The rest of the group move quickly but cautiously toward the waiting arms of the dark wood, as if they fear the dancing shadows hide even more wolves.

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The new map.

[Tura]

Elva, Druid/Wilderness Rogue

Elva looks at the wolves emerging from the forest, and the sight of the she-wolf on her left makes her stand and stare for a brief moment - she can't help admiring the large animal. Soon she regains her wits, and with a nod points at the leader of the pack. "Gray, attack!" she says sharply, and raises her arm, showing him the way south. The elkhound, barely restraining himself until then, runs through the snow, and twines through Jeb and Daar, eager to plunge his teeth in the she-wolf's flesh.

At the same time, Elva grabs her torc once more. A few words and a gesture later, the empty space behind the she-wolf suddenly becomes a blur, and another wolf appears out of thin air, this one white-furred, and set to fight with his own kind.
"The white one is on our side!" she shouts as loudly as she can, struggling to be heard through the noise of the battle, and then grabs her staff with both hands and begins to move forward.

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Gray: move to J-20, attack [roll]1d20+6[/roll], damage [roll]1d6+6[/roll]
Nature's Ally: I-19, attack [roll]1d20+3[/roll], damage [roll]1d6+1[/roll]
Elva: handle animal free action, Summon Nature's Ally full-round action, 5-foot step to M-17
No flanking bonus included.

[Tura]

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Rolling again (sorry, I don't know why it didn't work)
Gray:attack (1d20+6)[11], damage (1d6+6)[7]
Nature's Ally: attack (1d20+3)[18], damage (1d6+1)[4]
Oh, and Elva moved to L-17, sorry for the typo.

[Zed's Dead]

Gray attempts to bite the she-wolf's extended right paw, but her teeth close on air. She is quick for her size. A much smaller white wolf appears, seemingly out of nowhere. He rips into the she-wolf's flank.

Tura:

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Cool.

I have put Gray at I-20 because she can't effectively occupy the same space as the NPC at J-20.

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End of Round One. You may begin Round Two.
Here's the updated map.
Note that I added the wolves who just killed Cullen and the Merchant.
Key:
f=forest
F=fiery light in the forest
w=wolves
n=weak or injured npc
N= NPC who is battle-worthy (you know they are, because they proved themselves last night.)
D=Daar
K=Kraalkar
i= Imbris - kid Kraalkar tells to stay with him, and he'll be ok.
A=Arlen
E=Elva
G=Gray the Elkhound
S=Sul, the Owl
C=Cullen X = dead
M= Merchant X = dead
L=Wolf leader
Uluia = The woman with the spear who is interested in fighting with Kraalkar
@= Edder
O= Old Woman
H=horses
S=summoned white wolf (for now, I'll let the summoned white wolf have an S. I forgot about Sul. I'll update the white wolf's avatar when I update the map during round 2.

[GeekLord]

Kraalkar

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Attack (1d20+7)[21]
Damage (3d6+4)[13]

"Aaaaaaarrgghhh!" The wolf's fangs sink into Kraalkar's muscled leg, and the barbarian roars in pain. Cries of alarm and pain sound from the group behind him, and Imbris' arm is laid open to the bone by the flashing fangs of the wolf's partner, and the wolves press forward, eyes aflame with ravening hunger. The huge black wolf growls, a rumbling snarl of rage and impending violence. Realization comes to Kraalkar in a flash, and time seems to slow down. They are no ordinary wolves. These are the Hounds of Wulocha. It is the time of sak'aach, the culling of the herd.

Everything speeds up again. A wave of hot fury surges through his body and a red haze descends over Kraalkar's vision. From the corner of his eye, Kraalkar glimpses a smaller shape, pale and lethal, attack the black monster from behind. It is a sign from Mutani! He sends a white wolf to aid me! Kraalkar surges back into battle, his blade whistling toward the wolf that savaged Imbris. "Come, you demon-spawn! You will not take me today! I am Kraalkar! KRAALKAAAAAR!"

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I've been having trouble with the boards today, and then I got busy. Sorry for the delay. As per DM discussion, I enraged before I attacked. The rage will last for 5 rounds after this one and be finished at the end of the 5th round (after my actions for that round).