Each remaining member of their pursuit team slept all they could. Then they gobbled down rations, dried spear berries and jerky. Tracing over their own steps was easier for most of the members, but it still took time.

Nicolas had to move with care so he would not miss where the false trail diverged. As it turned out, they only had to wander until about mid-day before the woodsman called out for the group to stop.

“If this is the right way, we should be ready to fight. I doubt we will catch up to the scout, but it is a good bet that we are getting close.”

Looking around to the gathered faces, Stout informed the group. “We will move as carefully as we can, same formation as before. If we get the opportunity of surprise all the better. Be watchful of an ambush. Kill any gnoll you find, protect any victim, and stay alive.”

Taking a break seemed rather natural, Nicolas and Selene had to confirm that trail was true before they pursued it. The villagers circled up and sat pressed together in a small clearing, waiting tensely. It didn’t take long for their trackers to return.

Fading back into visibility to Cire's side, Selene calmly faced the others and took a moment to gather attention before she spoke. She damn well knew that she had spooked him, Cire could tell. However, he wasn’t sure if she was punishing him or if she had just pulled a wholly inappropriate practical joke. Either way, Selene acted like it hadn’t happened.

“Looks like Nicolas was right. This is the trail. It will be obvious when we enter their territory. Everyone be wary. I will try to clear the traps. If you can stealth or go unnoticed, then try.”

Hands tightened around hilts, armor was adjusted, and, most importantly, to a person each set their minds to the task. They would rescue those taken and avenge those who had fallen. What was once a threat to their home would be be swept clean from Elysium,or they would die trying.

Several miles later, with the sun hanging low in the sky, they passed into the gnoll's territory. Selene 's statement that it would be “obvious,” was proven to be horrifically accurate. Macabre totems were nailed into tree trunks and hanging from low branches, haphazardly decorating the forest.

Each grisly pennant seemed to contain the remains of several animals or people hodgepodged together. Flesh hung in various states of decomposition from carcasses or bones mixed with feces and worse. One of the dwarves with them stopped at a head hanging by its beard on a tree next to the trail.

Tears fell from Borg's eyes freely as he cut his brother's beard free from the limb and then set it to the ground with reverence. After being cast out by their clan, the Stonebones, they had come to Sunset to mine without the heavy taxes imposed by most of the surrounding settlements.

Borg and Gorb had relied upon each other. Being the elder brother, he had always felt responsible for Gorb's safety. Even if the younger dwarf was larger and generally more gifted. Looking back as a small hand fell to his shoulder, Borg gave a sharp nod to Stout and stood straight. He wouldn't save his brother, but he would send every last one of those fiends to the abyss.

Only a short distance later, the two scouts signaled the group to halt and approached for a conversation. Nicolas filled the party in with the details.

“We found the camp, no question. There is no movement that we could see, but it is next to a small cliff. There could be a cave or underground base. The sentries could be well hidden.”

Piping in, Selene tilted her head back towards where they had come. “No active fire. Smell of death is heavy on the air. Heavier than here that is.” She corrected. “It feels wrong.”

Looking around and noticing that no one else was immediately speaking up, Cire took this opportunity. “Let's go in together. We cannot afford to lose anyone to a trap and if we are going into an ambush.. I would rather face it together.”

With a quick gesture of his hand, the old gnome drew attention back to himself. “Do not get too close to each other. I will hang to the back and focus on any of them that group up or try to flank us. Don’t get in my way unless you want to get burned.”

Sneaking into the camp as quietly as they could, an eerie silence hung in the air. No birds chirped. No squirrels dashed through the trees. Only the buzzing of bugs and insects sounded through the brush.

When the group rounded a rock face and got their first look at the camp, each took an involuntary step backwards in revulsion. Cire felt a cold chill run through him and a pressure built in his chest. The scene was grotesque.

Butchery was plain everywhere. Chunks of gnoll littered the ground and trees. Broken crates, overturned barrels, and the charred husks of hide tents surrounded a cold fire ring. A miasma of putrid, disgusting aroma swirled in the camp.

Rousing himself from his shock, Cire moved over to the fire pit, stripped a glove, and plunged his hand into the ashes dispassionately. Ice cold. Hope fled his heart, leeched from him into the water soaked coals.

If the gnolls had been slaughtered, then what hope did they have to find their missing? Pulling his hand back and standing, he shook his head.

“Ice cold. This happened a while ago. If the fire had just been doused, it would’ve still been warm.”

Confirming Cire’s suspicions a moment later, a call from Stout rang through the camp. “They are over here, or at least what is left of them.”

No one moved over to the edge of the campsite when the gnome called. Stout was standing near a small cave entrance. Most of the group seemed dazed, but they all looked over to the gnome. Cire could see several steel cages lining the back wall of the cave.

It wasn’t the cages that had caused Cire and the others to freeze up, it was their contents. On the floor of each metal-barred prison were barely-clothed piles of bodies. Pieces of beings lay over each other in a disturbing orgy of death.

Some of the villagers vomited, their stomach contents sent to mingle with the gore of their surroundings. Stout bravely walked up to the cages and started looking over the bodies. Trying to find faces of his former residents.

When everyone else hesitated to move, he gave a quick chastising bark. “Come help me get our family out of here so we can take them home.”

Legs moved forward numbly and each of the party moved over to the cave mouth. Half formed up in a defensive ring and the others emptied the cells.

Corpses of gnolls were burned and dead captives buried. They gathered at the bodies of two of the kidnapped townsfolk. They had not been able to identify the last missing member of the Sunset community among the jigsaw puzzle of body parts.

They had tried, but it felt hollow. Many of victims were unrecognizable. If some part of the man was still here, and had not gone into a cook pot, then it was buried with the other bodies. They found nothing living or of value in the camp besides their own presence.

Nicolas found far too many tracks to count outside of the camp deeper into the woods. It appeared that something had invaded from the swamp to the south. Whatever it was conducted this brutal massacre, and then left in the same direction they had come.

No one had any sympathy for the gnolls, but at the same time, simply finding the corpses of friends and family by no means constituted a victory. With no enemy to face besides their own anger and remorse, most were left without resolution.

Borg collected the head of his brother as they made their way back to the previous night's camp. Arriving a couple of hours before daybreak, half settled down to rest and the other half held vigil with those who would never wake. Silence ruled the evening. The only sound they heard was the occasional howl of a wolf or other beast.

Cire was still processing what he had seen at the camp. Great-grandparents of his back on earth had lived through the holocaust. He had received more than a passing education on the horrors that people could unleash upon their own.

Never before had he been amidst such carnage, such wanton disregard for life. It had been a massacre, plain and simple. Cire had not shown outward signs of being shaken at the camp, but he was moving numbly like most of their number. After the watch duty shift change, exhaustion took him into a dreamless black sleep.