The night started cheerfully, with tankards filled to the brim with their sweet meads and ales. The smell of food was great in the tavern of Stangard, pork roasting with venison turning on the spit next to it. The only thing to rival how great the food was could only be the merriment! Laughter and singing, cheering and dancing could be heard from two buildings across as men and women gathered to celebrate Midsummer's Day.
A few hours passed, and the Vagabond was passed out on a table with other passed out bodies around him on the floors, tables and chairs. Midnight passed, and with it came dark clouds that welcomed a storm. Rain hammered down onto the muddy streets, and thunder boomed in the distance. A cold wind blew harsh, through every window and door which put out torches and candles inside the wooden buildings of Stangard. All still slept though, the drink and food they had earlier that night not helping, though outside the walls things were much more different..
Orcs from the Wailing Hills were snarling and arguing about who will be the first to scale the palisades and kill the first man! Eventually the time came to strike, when the storm raged its hardest and the two lightest orcs climbed the walls silently and ending the lives of the two watchmen on duty who had drank some at the celebrations and were not the most wary about what was happening. The gates creaked open as the rain battered against the palisades, and soon flooded in orc after orc as they silently but like a wave of death made their way to each of the buildings and sliding in.
The inn was pitch black as they entered, and sleeping bodies lay all over the place. The orcs grinned their vile grins, yellow teeth sticking out from under green ugly lips as they pulled out their swords and went to work as they slaughtered the men like sheep though they were not silent enough in their evil deeds..
Stig, the Dale-Man, awoke first as he heard the snarling of orc and groans of dying men. He hit Helmfeld, the Horse-Lord, across the chest to get his attention before he awoke with a light snort.
"Hush, Helm! Or you will get us both killed! Wake Hiath, while I fetch our weapons..”, Stig nodded as he crawled on his hands and knees in the shadows to gather the weapons gathered by the fire, the smell of the meat before hiding the scent of man-flesh.
The Vagabond was still fast asleep atop the table, before a large hand reached and pulled him down, awaking him in the process. To Hiath's surprise, it was Helm and Stig who handed him his curved knife without a word, indicating to the two orkish figures in the doorway before handing him a dull lantern that was covered with a cloth to stop the light from spreading. Hiath was then pushed out, with the lantern glowing its yellow glow across the room to get the attention of the orcs who snarled and started to march over at the sight of the man seeing them.
The Vagabond led them into the little room, walking backwards with a nervous look on his face as the smell of the orcs hit his nose while they let out noises similar to wild cats before they lunged forward! As they came out, swords met their necks and their heads came from their shoulders and rolled down with a spurt of black blood and a thump!
Coming around the corner, and shining the lantern on what the orcs had done.. bodies lay about, one man with a tankard still in his hand though a sword wound visible on his back that meant his death.
The three companions woke all those that still lived, before they went to the door and slid out. A flash of lightning illuminated the sky, showing the work that the orcs had done as well with screams as many gathered at the mead hall. That was the next place to go it seemed..
