the camp directly

Now that you've effectively split the camp into two halves, with one half being recently departed, you decide to keep up the momentum and attack again before they catch on. You double-back towards the camp, leaving the three dead orcs behind. You can search their bodies later.

Quickly skirting around the crags, you indicate by hand-signals that you want Tri'lanna to support from afar with her bow. She nods her head in acknowledgment and starts to move at an angle from your own path, making wider trails and with broader views. She quickly moves ahead of you to forge her own path, and soon the elf stops and takes a kneeling stance on an elevated rock, with a clear view of the pitched camp. You quickly find your own position, crouching between two piles of shale, crosswise from Tri'lanna's spot, so that the two of you can attack the camp from different angles.

A quick glance at the camp confirms your estimations. There are four of them left at the camp: one standing guard, two of them prodding the campfire with their weapons, and the last one is wrapped in a long cloak, sitting a little bit away from the others. From the way he seems to handle himself, you guess that he must be the leader and make a mental note to watch out for that one especially.

From where you are crouching you cannot see Tri'lanna, so you can only hope she can support you when you attack. You look up in the sky and see that what remaining light is starting to fade with the coming night. There's not much time left before they start looking, you realize.

You roar a challenge to the orcs as you charge into the camp, gaining their attention. For a split second, with all four pairs of eyes upon you, you feel terribly exposed, but your trust in Tri'lanna pays off. From somewhere in your left blind spot, you hear the whistling of arrows as they pierce the air and then pierce the first orc on guard duty. He lets out a single grunt, and falls to his knees.

Dashing past his collapsing body, confronting the other three orcs. Unthinking, you hurtle at the closest one, who hasn't had the time yet to bring up a defence, and start hacking away at him. One chop, and he loses an arm. A second chop, and a great gash shows on his chest. A third, and he loses what's left of his life. As you wrench your axe out of his body, you see one of the orcs rush past you, towards Tri'lanna you assume. You can't chase after him though, since there is still one in front of you, the cloaked leader, so you just have to trust that she can take care of herself.

You and the cloaked orc circle each other warily, gauging the distance in between. You try a few feints, going high with your axe then stepping low, but he isn't fazed by either. You begin to feel frustrated. You can hear the sounds of Tri'lanna and the other orc battling, and you need to find a way to attack. When the heel of your boot bumps against the stone ring of the campfire. You suddenly get an idea.

Jumping backwards, you sail over the campfire and kick up the embers as you land on the other side. The sparks fly upward and land squarely on the leader's cloak, catching on fire immediately. You watch the flames crackle and quickly start consuming the fabric, flaring up in the sky. The leader grunts, but doesn't cry out in pain you note, and grabs a handful of his burning cloak, tossing it away.

As it falls to the ground, you realize that the leader is not an orc at all, but a lizardman, one of the monsters from the demon overlord's army!

Seeing it's pale green scales, its hawk-like claws, and its hypnotic, swaying tail, you feel yourself being dragged back to the past, when Gutendor was first attacked. Memories of monsters small and large, trampling through the town, butchering men and **** women, begin to **** you relentlessly, pounding away at your confidence. The images play across your eyes again and again, and the horror of that day renders you immobile.

But the sound of Tri'lanna shrieking an elven war cry snaps you out of your nightmare. You look up to see that the creature has been waiting patiently for you, almost amusingly. Standing defiantly against the lizardman, you wait for him to make the first move, gripping your axe tightly with both hands.

"Ssstone-bearer. So you've come, as He predicted." The reptilian man says, his tongue flicking out to taste the air. "But you are much too late."

"You've attacked the Druids, haven't you?"

"You shall see, human...Or perhaps you will not." He spits, tearing his serrated blade from its scabbard, "I think I will take your head and offer it to my master. He will be pleased."

You charge forward to meet his attack and the resonating sound as your weapons clash set your teeth on edge. You find yourself almost immediately at a disadvantage. The lizard is clearly stronger than you, wielding the jagged sword in one hand, he is still able to match the strength of your two-handed axe. With his free hand, he lashes out with his claws, raking your skin and drawing blood. Even worse, his tail would often lash out at awkward angles, forcing you to duck or step back. Against the flurry of his attacks, you are **** to simply defend, unable to make a counter.

It is then that the leader takes a gamble. Tossing away his own sword, he unbalances you with his tail and then seizes your axe with both hands, trying to wrest away your weapon. As he grabs the handle, his face comes close to yours. His breath is hot and pungent and you are close enough to see the individual scales on his body.

He hisses at you and you growl back in defiance as both of you struggle for the axe, surging back and forth. Your muscles cord and knot, bunching up with exertion as you fight to keep your hold on your weapon. But you are losing. The lizardman's strength is incalculable, and you know that the only way this encounter will end is with the axe in his hands and you defenseless, but still you cannot let him take away your weapon. To do so would mean ****. There wouldn't be enough time to draw your sword and you simply aren't fast enough to keep up with the wily demon. So you keep fighting, straining your muscles, hoping for a change in the odds.

Another battle cry in the air. Female, this time. Tri'lanna. Your heart soars as more arrows strike through the air, burying into the reptilian man's arm. His grip weakens and you seize the advantage, jerking your axe away and booting him in the gut as you step back. Regaining your stance, your scream out in victory as you bring your axe down to bear on the leader. You swing hard, cleaving through the breastplate and into his chest.

As he falls to the ground, you stand over him with axe held high, ready for the finishing blow.

"Who is he?!" You scream at the lizardman, "Who is your master?!"

He flashes a wicked, mirthless grin at you, as if waiting for you to ask that question. With a swipe of his arm, he knocks you off of him, surging with a preternatural strength he did not have before. Despite bleeding from near-fatal wounds, the reptilian demon rises up again, slowly, but with gaining strength, and spreads his arms in a flourish, looking up at the approaching darkness.

"He is Vanarim, The Great Pretender, Father of the Damned, He Who Watches The Door, and Stealer of a Thousand Souls! From the blood and flesh of a thousand innocents has he supped, and a hundred thousand more shall suffer before he has taken his fill this day."

"Hear his name and tremble, human." The demon glares at you, "He has returned, and your time is up."

With a burst of energy, the lizardman leaps backwards and vanishes behind a ridge, cackling the entire time. You immediately run after him, dropping your axe and sprinting forward, but once you crest the hill he is nowhere to be found. You can still hear his voice, his sharp laughter, as it fades into the horizon.

"I still have the Shining Stone! It's not over yet!" You yell out, as much to yourself as to the lizardman.