Deep in the snows between the setting sun and the rising moon, the ork-kin of Ogrymym’non ran the adventurer’s to the ground. The fifth day out from Courolempierre, a mere three day’s from the solstice, they found themselves surrounded, low on provisions, and foot-sore with a fightbefore them.
Fortune, it is said, favors the bold. They took a few huddled moments
to sharpen their blades, and throw off their pack’s. Tonight they wouldescape the foul ork kin, or they would sup together in the halls of the gods.