Amaran heard the mages theoretical question and took it upon himself to answer it. "Perhaps because in escape, one flees danger. In this case, we are running to it." He paused for a moment, then hastily added. "Of course, no doubt you feel the need to go on about how "fleeing from these mages is worse than death." However, since we've all heard your view on that more times than neccesary, there will be no need. " He cast a dark glance to Crove. "You do seem to know so much about them..." He let the end of his sentance fade. Crove had alraedy dodged that question, and would do so again.

"Please, I know because it is business to know all tough I am halfway guessing and making reasonable conclusions. This world and lands are shaped by power, we are pawns in one of many games and I suggest that we go along as best as we can or at least try to survive trough it. The mages are probably watching us now and listening to our bickering, but I assure I am not an agent of the mages.

Strictly being a magic user does not indicate that I have connections with them"

He proclaimed in his defense as the rest of the group seemed to be teaming up against him, what fools. Not that he hadn`t seen it coming, but the more they would cause trouble the harder it would be in the end. Crove tsked and gazed towards the north where the river Mirabar should begin after sometime of traveling.

"Are you willing to continue this worthless bickering or shall we get underway again?"

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

Amaran, always one to be difficult, smiled as he said "I don't see why we can't bicker and get on with it. Bickering is good. It gets the blood pumping." He held Crove's gaze a moment longer than was neccesary. [/i]

Ruthnak smiled at Amaran's comment. Inside, his blood was already boiling at the sorcerer calling him naive. Couldn't the man tell an idle joke when he heard one?
<i>Still, it never hurts to be careful.</i> he reminded himself. The mage that had freed them all had friends, and Ruthnak knew he'd never survive in a battle against magic-wielders.
"I am ready to start again, whenever the rest of our group is." he said.

Perhaps it was just him, but Falch'nus had the smallest of feelings that his inquiry hadn't been taken well. Touchy and condescending - not his favorite combination, especially in a magic-user. But then again, neither did he appreciate being anyone's pawn. Freedom was a luxury of the past that he found himself sorely missing.

A steady trickling of water ahead signaled the River Mirabar. With any luck they could rent a barge, which would at least save them the trouble of walking all the way to -

What was that? Falch'nus stopped and stared up into the darkness, where a tiny tendril of smoke curled above the treetops. With a glance back at the others, he crept on ahead - unauthorized - towards the riverbank. A campfire flickered in a small copse of trees ahead. He smelled roasted meat. A snippet of some gutteral language reached his ears.

Orcs.

"An orcish raiding party," he reported when he returned to his companions. "Renegades, likely, for coming this far south. If we're quiet we could circumvent them."

_________________

Crove nodded quietly, he had did not wish to engage in a pointless battle against such brutes. These orcs might have been stupid and ignorant yet they were a thousand times more savage than any other race, one reason why he avoided orcs at all costs all tough one of their group had their blood.

"We go around and continue along the river, all tough wouldn`t hurt to look back and keep an extra guard up should we stop at some point. Being ambushed by orcs is not my idea of an unnoticed travel... unless we ambush them first?"

He suggested with bloodthirsty smirk, he wanted to express his frustration by burning a few fools and unfortunately those with him were too valuable, for now.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

"And what do we get out of it?" Arielle wasn't about to endanger herself when there was no chance of profit; her business sense objected. She had strung her bow, idly, when the long-haired man had come back from scouting, but not with the intent of agression. The dangerous light in Crove's eyes made her more uneasy. Weren't they already going to have enough problems in Silverymoon without gratuitously attacking orcs? "Because, believe me, 'practice' isn't the excuse I'm lookin' for."

_________________


<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

Ruthnak agreed with Arielle. "If we have a chance of avoiding them, why not take it? A fight would only slow us down."
He didn't mention one of his other reasons. Although he was half-human and had fought against orcs in the past, he didn't <i>like</i> it. The orcs were driven by bloodlust and killing- it was what they understood best. That part of them was inside Ruthnak, too. It was only an accident of birth that he had been born to a human woman, rather than being fully orc.
Pulling himself back to the present, Ruthnak shook off those thoughts. He would kill orcs again, if that was what the rest of the group decided.

Amaran ran senarios over in his head. They could attack the orcs and win. They could also attack the orcs and loose, which was a possiblilty. Choice three; they could move stealthily through the forest, circumventing the threat with a good chance the orcs would not be alerted to thier presence.
"We should avoid them." Amaran was about to speak up, but a sudden rustle silenced him. He looked up to see a large orc standing in a tree above them. Realizing he had been spot, he quickly blasted his horn and leaped down. Amaran, still slightly amused by seeing a rhino shaped being perched on a limb, barely avoided a blow from the orc's blade. In the distance he could hear the shouting of orcs and the metalic reverberations of thier armor as they drew closer. Like it or not, it appeared as if they had to fight.

"By the oases, this just gets better and better," growled Jada, whipping out her scimitar. The moon coldly illuminated the blade, making it glint against its user's dark garb and skin. Guiltily Jada remembered how the weapon had lain unused for the last year at least, and noticed with some disgust that her palm was sweaty on the scimitar's hilt. Runaway or no, she was adept at lone survival and evasion, not necessarily combat.

Jada thrust tendrils of dark hair out of her face, expression set. Curse that mage! In fact, she continued viciously to herself, curse all magic-users in general. Insufferably arrogant pigs, the lot of them - the world needed them about as much as it needed its cities paved with hot coals.

_________________

Kiana scowled. "What happens if we run, we could find shelter tonight and get on with this... pleasant... journey tomorrow. I am in no mood to endanger myself in favor of 'practice.'"
Kiana looked at Crove and all the others who were favoring fighting, "If you haven't noticed we are most likely outnumbered and not nearly as merciless as orcs."
The sound of the orcs were getting nearer and Kiana drew her sword just incase. Her eyes flashed warningly. She was highly skilled in weaponry but was not up for fights that she would most likely lose.

_________________
<center>

[font=Times New Roman]
Hello, I'm Amoniel
[/font]</center>

Arielle nocked an arrow to her bow as Amaran grappled with the orc. She could see others in the distance, running to the aid of their scout. These were the targets she picked, muttering to herself. Like it or not, they had no choice about fighting.

She loosed her first arrow with an audible twang of the bowstring. It was hard to tell in the dark, but she probably missed entirely. It took one more arrow to find her range, and then she heard the satisfying clang of arrowhead striking armor. A little more up - they were getting very close now, a hundred paces off - and she sent a shaft into the unprotected armpit of an orc. Two more arrows, then she slipped the bow over her back with an air of much practice, and swiftly unsheathed her dirk. Shorter than a sword, but longer than a dagger, a dirk was meant for vicious, efficient hand-to-hand combat. It was time to go to work.

_________________


<center>Nothing but the Rain</center>

Crove simply smirked at their protests and snapped his fingers as, if to get their attention.

"A rubble of orcs shouldn`t prove too hard to wipe out with my powers and your... skills... but yes..."

He began to admit with a dry tone and a bored face, but then the fighting had already been ignited and arrows were already flying around. The orc band gathered and made their way towards the bickering group. Crove simply shrugged at this and prepared a spell to decimate some of the orcs approaching. Crove mumbled a few words as the rest engaged the orcs as they wished, but stayed at a safe distance while sending a bolt of lightning sparkling trough the air and running trough a few orcs, effectively electrocuting them to death.

Crove chuckled with cold satisfaction as he prepared for another spell.

_________________

Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

The darkness came alive, and very suddenly Falch'nus found himself surrounded by two dozen snarling humanoids crying orisons to Gruumsh, the orcish deity. Not a pretty sight. With all intention of escaping alive, he leaped nimbly onto a low branch and strung his composite bow. Listening for his targets, he sent his arrow streaking into the darkness. A satisfying grunt of pain rewarded him.

Suddenly a lightning bolt sizzled past, momentarily blinding him. That moment was all a pair of orcs needed to rip his tree bough clean off the trunk. Falch'nus tumbled unceremoniously to the ground and did the one thing that made any sentient marksman cringe.

He dropped his bow.

Flat on his back, he found himself staring up at two glittering eyes. The orc shoved its face close - tusks, fragranced breath, and all. "Stupid man," it snarled, hefting its cleaver.

"Why, thank you," Falch'nus returned, and threw a tiny statuette in the air.

The next thing the bewildered orc knew, the enchanted statuette had spawned a full gyrfalcon. The bird descended in a blur of feathers and talons, tearing at the orc's face. Falch'nus offered a nod of gratitude for the friend that'd saved his life once again, then whipped out his blades and positioned himself back-to-back with Arielle. "Falch'nus Duraelis, m'lady," he introduced cheerily, seconds before running his sabre through an opponent's abdomen.

_________________

The first orc went down within seconds of coming in the necessary proximity to Jada. The second had time to flail at her with twin blades, filthy but still very sharp, and she actually had to duel with the third before he collapsed with a gurgle. After that things deteriorated at speed, to the point where the lithe young woman was in danger of being gutted herself.

After executing a complicated and entirely spontaneous series of moves that could have indicated either an expert swordswoman or the exact opposite, Jada found herself backed against a tree with nothing but a bloodstained scimitar between her and certain decapitation.

"That," she grated after a particularly vicious slash across the midsection of an encroaching orc, "is what I'm going to do to this mage."

_________________

Silently cursing the orcs, Ruthnak grabbed his bow and put an arrow to the string. He drew it back until the string creaked, then released it. It flew towards an orc some distance away, but bounced harmlessly off the armor. <i>I'm out of practice.</i> Ruthnak realized.

Whipping another arrow out of the quiver, he aimed and fired again. That one came closer to it's mark. Unfortunately, the orcs were also coming closer, and quickly.

Ruthnak took his time on the next shot. He drew the arrow and string back to his cheek, aimed- and was temporarily blinded by Crove's lightning. He turned his curses towards the sorcerer. <i>Magicians- they won't even take a real part in a fight.</i> He quickly aimed and fired. This time his arrow landed in an orc's flesh. With a grim smile, Ruthnak kept firing.