When last we saw our intrepid heroes…
…after procuring a cleric, they were preparing to venture forth once again to the orc and goblin warren to continue their cleansing. Upon arrival, though, they found the entrance shaft filled halfway with rubble and impassable.
Thinking to find another entrance, Rolfe lead the group along a clearly visible trail northwestward toward the mountains and into a dark wood. The party found a cold orc campsite along a creek with obvious signs that the rocks and debris from the creek bed had been moved from there, in all likelihood to fill the entrance shaft.
Despite having already walked for about 8 hours, but not deigning to make camp in orc detritus, the tired party continued northwestward along the orc trail, finally pushing out of the woods at dusk near a seldom used road on the edge of an abandoned Thorpe. After a brief scouting of the area, the party decided to make camp just inside the wood line as the last vestiges of light faded and a warm summer rain began to fall.
Awaking from sleep sometime later (Rolfe was supposed to be on guard) by an unusual silence that rangers know means something’s amiss, Rolfe woke Ough and Collin, who in turn woke Syrict from his perch in a tree by hitting him with a rock and causing him to fall from said perch.
The storm had passed and moonlight shone brightly as the group spied a lumbering figure crest the hilltop before them staggering their way. A baleful howl echoed across the fields nearby as our heroes prepared for the worst.