Draft 4 – 22 July 2025 (C003/D004)
Autumn was distracted. While moving into his assigned position to observe the camp, he had stumbled across some suspicious spoor. It hinted at something that did not seem possible. Gnolls – towering, bipedal hyenas, they outweigh large human men by nearly half – were no longer present on this side of the bay. Yet, here were tracks far too large and far too deep to be anything else.
He knew that Hunter always preferred that he stick to their carefully laid plans, but this seemed important. A single gnoll in close combat with a proficient human warrior will shred his opponent and consume his corpse. An elite human warrior, highly skilled with superior weapons, might prevail against a single gnoll. But a pack of gnolls with the advantages of surprise and darkness versus four armed deputies, a single coffle master, and a bunch of unarmed slaves … that would be a massacre.
In order to assess this threat, Autumn needed to know what and how many. The tracks took him away from camp. Out of sheer bad luck, he was a considerable distance away on the riverbank when the first war cry reached his ears.
It did not help, in that moment, that the gnolls’ war cries were immediately answered by nearby coyotes. Coyote cries were as common after dark in this valley as the calls of owls and the barking of farm dogs. So the occupants of the camp took no immediate notice of them.
Hunter, Scout and Autumn, however, were not fooled. Having grown up across the bay in The Wood, where gnolls were common, they understood the danger. They heard the war cry and they understood its intent. The yelps would draw attention to one side of the camp, but the attack would begin on the other side.
Scout was stationed at the end of the camp opposite the war cry and knew instantly that her position would soon be overwhelmed. Hunter, overhead in an everwood, was near the center of camp in position to defend the children, but would be helpless to prevent the attack from beginning.
Moments later, Scout heard the first of the gnolls entering the meadow from the place where the road to the Shadows entered the Devil’s Beard. They were charging through the meadow along the tree line. A glance at the adult slave posted nearest her position showed he was alert. Unfortunately, he was looking back toward camp and the yipping of the coyotes was enough to drown out the sound of the approaching warriors.
Scout stepped into the deepest shadows, readied her bow, and nocked an arrow. She prepped a second arrow in her bow hand, but knew she would not be able to fire until all of the gnolls passed her. Firing too soon would give her position away and lead to a quick death. Best to wait until the pack passed her and then pick them off from behind while they were silhouetted by the campfire.
She also considered the people in the camp. Even with the best efforts of the three in her party, most were sure to die. Since that was the case, she would sacrifice the adults and do her best to save the children.
Scout counted nearly twenty gnolls in the pack entering her side of the camp. A few more, she knew, would attack from the other side of the camp. The watchman nearest her, hypnotized by the coyote sounds and unable to see in the dark, provided absolutely no warning to his comrades. The first gnoll took him from behind and ran him through with a machete. He fell to the ground clutching at his stomach, trying to keep his insides inside.
Two heartbeats later, gnolls burst into the camp and headed straight for the fire where the men were rising from their bedrolls. One deputy broke ranks and bolted toward the river without stopping to draw a weapon. The others jumped to their feet, slid their long knives from their scabbards, and absorbed the attack.
As the last gnoll passed by her hidden position into the camp, Scout stepped out from the treeline and loosed an arrow aimed at his back. Unexpectedly, the gnoll immediately in front of her target stumbled. So her target was forced to take a quick step to the left. This caused Scout’s arrow to miss the trailing gnoll and strike the gnoll in front of him.
While Scout was lucky that this arrow managed to drop the gnoll it actually hit, she was unlucky in that the gnoll she missed turned around looking for an archer. Immediately drawing her bowstring, she stood as still as possible hoping to avoid detection.
At the other end of the camp, LT became aware of the gnolls as they reached the campfire. He drew his long, curved, single edged sword and was about to join the battle at the fire when a shout from overhead —“Look to the kits!”— locked him in place, defending the coffle.
Mayhem took the camp. His comrades at the campfire did some damage. Two gnolls fell, but it was not enough. The survivors were immediately dispatched by the larger gnolls. The coffle master died first, cleaved by a machete from his right shoulder through to his left hip. The others crumpled beneath a hail of blades and gnashing teeth a few moments later..
Hunter knew the camp was lost. Protecting the children was his only priority. Two gnolls who broke off from the campfire toward LT were immediately taken down by arrows — one in the neck, one in the knee. The last of these two stumbled into LT’s feet clutching at his knee and was dispatched by a single thrust of his sword.
The lone human deserter fleeing the battle was quickly overtaken by a pursuing gnoll. Hunter fired two arrows into the melee hoping to hit the gnoll with both. Unfortunately for the cowardly deputy, the first arrow found a gap in his leather armor and pierced a kidney. He dropped where he stood and started crawling for the river on his hands and knees. The second, punctured the gnoll’s neck, severed his spine, and protruded from his throat. He expired gurgling on the ground close behind the injured deputy.
The gnoll looking for Scout quickly spotted her. As recognition flashed in his eyes, an arrow flashed toward him. His iron helm saved his life but the intensity of the blow knocked him back and watered his eyes. He never saw the second arrow, the one that ended his life. Nevertheless, his awkward death helped his fellow tribesmen by buying a few precious seconds, allowing them to swarm the tents.
The attack from the opposite side of the camp began just as they arrived. The gnoll leader, flanked by two of his best fighters, emerged from the Devil’s Beard and charged along the tree line. LT could not see them in the dark, but Hunter could.
The distance was long, the target was moving, and leaves from an adjacent oak were partially blocking his view. Hunter aimed for the center of mass and loosed an arrow through a gap in the branches. He immediately reloaded and loosed another. The first arrow pierced a gnoll in the side of his lower belly and stopped him, grunting, in his tracks. The second arrow struck the leader’s shoulder cap with an audible chink and ricocheted into the darkness.
LT heard the pounding footsteps and turned to see the gnolls coming. Positioning his two-handed sword low in near ward position, LT planted his feet and prepared for the coming rush. Hunter recognized the stance. Whoever he was, he was likely trained by the Granite Brotherhood.
Cries of horror from inside the tents were quickly silenced. Scout took the bloody gnolls down one by one as they stepped back into the firelight. With everyone now dead at her end, she dashed through the camp toward Hunter.
Autumn topped the slope at a full sprint just in time to see the leader and a flanking gnoll close with their black-hatted bounty. The flanking gnoll was half a step ahead of the leader charging LT with his sword above his head. As he stepped in close, LT shifted his weight, lifted his sword, gutted the gnoll and stepped past the collapsing corpse. Stopping his sword overhead in house position, he blocked the leader’s downward strike, absorbed his power and rolled clear of a second strike that just whistled past his ear.
The children were terrified. Their first instinct was to run, but since they were chained together, running was not an option. Instead, some screamed while others cried. Several gnolls finished their battle at the campfire and bolted to join the fight with their leader.
Knowing what must be done to end the battle, Hunter scanned for Autumn and spotted him cresting the hill. He slung his bow across his back, drew his staff, and jumped down from his perch hoping Autumn would see him in the open. He pointed at the charging leader with his staff and slid into position back-to-back with LT. The gnolls closed a circle around them.
“Cavalry’s coming, yo,” Hunter said over his shoulder, parrying an attack from a gnoll. “Get ready to roll.”
“What?” exclaimed LT, shocked to have help, but having no idea what the stranger meant.
“We gonna roll out,” Hunter shouted over the growls and howls of the attacking gnolls. “Watch for a spot.”
Scout arrived just as Autumn topped the hill and the gnolls closed the circle. She could not see Hunter behind the curtain of seven foot animals, but she knew where he had to be. She also recognized the magical gestures that Autumn was making and understood what she needed to do. Two quick arrows sunk deep into their targets’ backs creating an opening.
The ground at their feet shuddered. The soil began rippling like water. “Now!” Hunter shouted, grabbing LT and rolling through the opening.
LT felt something grasping at his boots, but they rolled free of the gnolls and came up in house position — weapons held high ready to block an attack. As the gnolls pivoted toward them, grasses, roots, and vines snaked up entangling their legs. Some gnolls lost their balance and fought to regain it. Two fell and were immediately tangled beneath the surging vegetation.
One broke free, stumbled during his escape, and dropped to his knees at the feet of LT and Hunter. With a quick downward swipe, LT removed his head. A second broke free and took an arrow to the neck from Scout. A few moments later, all remaining gnolls were immobilized and the battle — for the moment — was paused.
Hunter lowered his staff. LT pivoted to face him while maintaining his defensive posture.
Hunter’s primary concern was the gnolls. So he circled the entangled pack to ensure that none of them would be able to break free.
“Who the hell are you?” LT demanded.
Hunter ignored him, completing the circle and walking back toward the camp.
“Stop.” LT ordered as he sheathed his sword and followed the elf. “Where are you going?”
Autumn went to the children. Scout wrapped a kerchief over her face before checking every gnoll corpse to make sure they weren’t playing possum. She also began the process of retrieving every arrow loosed — broken or unbroken.
Hunter went first to the coffle master’s dead body and searched it. He took a key from one pocket and some folded papers from another. Shaking the blood from the papers, he tossed the key to Autumn as he walked past on his way to the treeline. The papers were folded and stuffed inside his tunic.
“Attach these corpses to the chain. Aright?”
Autumn nodded.
“The gnolls gotta break the chain when they haul them away.”
“I get it,” Autumn replied.
“I’ll answer your questions, yo,” Hunter said to LT, stopping to examine the ground at the spot where he had put an arrow into a slaver’s kidney. “But first you’re gonna answer mine.”
“Depends on the question,” LT replied, squaring up his chest and putting his hand on the pommel of his sword.
Hunter scoffed, shook his head, and squatted down for a closer look at the ground. “What’s LT stand for?” he asked, following a blood trail across the meadow in the general direction of the river.
“It’s my name.”
Hunter looked at him skeptically.
“It’s my nickname. Stands for Little Tanner,” he volunteered. “My dad’s name was Tanner. I’m Little Tanner.”
“Was?” Hunter asked.
“Yeah. He’s dead now.”
Hunter paused for a moment to consider whether or not LT was being sincere. “Sorry to hear that,” he offered before turning and following the blood trail down the hill.
LT, still not clear on what Hunter was doing, tagged along. “It was five years ago … You were in the tree,” he blurted, in a moment of recognition. “And you three … I saw you in town.”
Hunter stopped halfway down the hill, gazing at the ribbon of river reflecting the moonlight.
“What are you looking for?” LT wondered aloud.
“Blood trail.” Hunter pointed to the ground, tracing a line with his finger. “Leads right into the river.”
“What … how the … It’s pitch friken black out here,” LT exclaimed.
“Naw, bro,” Hunter replied. “You just night blind.”
“So there’s a guy in the water?” LT asked, half drawing his sword.
“Most likely,” said Hunter before turning and walking back toward the camp. “Cain’t hep though. He gator food now.”
As Hunter strode up the hill, LT followed along in silence, gathering his thoughts, trying to make sense of it all.
Approaching the camp, Hunter saw the shivering children in their filthy blankets gathered around the fire. Scout and Autumn were dragging corpses to the slave chain and affixing collars to their necks. The lower half of the coffle master was dumped next to his upper.
“Find some water in those wagons and give those kits a drink,” Hunter instructed LT.
Hunter turned and walked toward the entangled pack of gnolls.
“You understand that I’m a deputy, right?” LT called after Hunter. “Those kids are the property of The Shadows.”
Hunter kept walking.
“Oh, honey,” Autumn chuckled, shaking his head, “if he thought you were one of these guys…”