Invasion!

The 4 goblins proved easy adversaries. Although they manage to wound me, my father’s training proved more than a match to them. It was a good death for them. Too good. My strokes were swift and deadly. An overkill you might say.

I marked myself with their still warm blood. The elf-ranger and the stealthy halfling were casting disgusted looks at my back, but I did not care. This was my initiation. This was my ritual. My heritage. I could not abandon traditions handed down to me through generations untold, through time immemorial.

Now I am a true Barbarian! My sword held high above my head I let loose a battle cry; a cry of victory; a right of passage!

After patching me up, we quickly searched the bodies. Nothing fancy. A few copper and silver coins. I took some trophies from their bodies. They might prove valuable back in civilization. A quick survey of the surrounding area revealed nothing of interest. We had to push on. East towards the river.

An hour or so away we finally reached the bank. The waters were fast and ice cold. Spring was coming fast and the winter snows from high up the mountains was beginning its long journey back to the sea.

Tracks! Wolf and goblins. Another scouting party most probably. Heading away from the river, to the north. We too changed directions following them. A few days in after losing and re-finding the tracks we heard it.

A sound unlike anything that had been heard for nearly a century. Drums. Orcish war drums to be precise. And they were close. It sounded as if a temporary camp was somewhere ahead of us, probably half a days walk.

As I was a few dozen feet ahead of the others I heard them stop. They were discussing something. Cannot hear what they are saying, but it sounds trivial. Then everything goes to hell!

Both of them turn and shoot their missiles at something high in the tree tops. A goblin scout comes crashing down, but not before he raises an alarm. A wolf rider and his sidekick come to investigate, and instead of seeing a friend they come face to face with "The Grandfather". The battle was quick. The came down like sand castles in the encroaching waves.

We quickly followed their trail back to the river; the site was heart-pounding. There, just a few feet away, on the other side of the river, hundreds of orcs, goblins, wolfs and wargs. Bridges had been thrown over the river. An invasion was starting.

9 days doing zigzags to avoid patrols. 9 days of hard running in the wood, barely resting for a moments peace. and then finally. Familiar grounds. A few hours away from home. But something permeates the atmosphere. The wind brings down the smell of smoke and ass. The smoke is coming from the village. The long fingers of death linger above the hills. We must be careful.

We approached from the west, towards my farm since it was away from the village. Carefully, from within the tree-line we crawled all the way to my house. Aidan was nowhere to be found and probably dead. My anger had started to build.

My companions slowly entered through the window of my bedroom and prepared a flanking attack. I crawled to the front door and stormed inside yelling, sword held high. The three goblins were taken by surprise, but the orc warrior dashed quickly in the fray from my pantry. I could no longer hold on to the rage. It came over me. A terrible blood lust that swept everything away.

It took only a few minutes, but I do not remember anything. I was covered in blood, some of it mine, but mostly from the foul humanoids under my feet. A dead kobold was right in front of me. Just another target that I hadn't even understood when it attacked me. The orc was a few feet away decapitated.

I patched myself quickly enough; We gathered some provisions from the left overs and headed towards Vadania's place. With any luck it would not have been found.

We were correct. The night was coming in fast and we took a well deserved rest. Investigation of the village would have to wait until the morning.