“No, no, no. You don’t get to attack me and just run away, little greenskins!”

Melinda’s Attack: 1d20+10 = 24 (Hit)

Damage: 1d8 = 8 Bludgeon

Damage: 3d6 = 11 Cold (Dead)

I flew around the goblins, dropping down in front of the goblin fighters. The closest one, the one that had gone furthest towards trying to escape, died as I shoved my frost-shrouded fist through his skull. I dropped down into a fighting stance. “You lot are going to die. All of you.” I didn’t know whether they even understood me. Didn’t much care. Wouldn’t change the outcome.

New Goblin Warrior Group 1’s Reflex Save: 1d20+1 = 19 (Success)

Breath Weapon Damage: 4d6 = 18 / 2 = 9 Cold (Dead)

Recharge: 1d4 = 2 Rounds

The Winter Wolf appeared to agree with my sentiments, seeing as how it shifted its massive form with more nimbleness than its size suggested, and breathed out a cone of icy cold once again. The goblins were ready for it, this time, and did their best to try and avoid the blast of frozen air. But their best was not good enough, and the group of goblins that had been harassing the wolf fell dead.

New Goblin Fighter Group 1 Attack: 1d20+5 = 10 (Miss)

New Goblin Fighter Group 2 Attack: 1d20+3 = 7 (Miss)

New Goblin Fighter Group 3 Attack: 1d20+3 = 23 (Crit Threat)

Miss Chance: 1d100 = 69 (Hit)

Confirm Roll: 1d20+3 = 4 (Normal Hit)

Damage: Negated by DR

New Goblin Fighter Group 4 Attack: 1d20+3 = 21 (Miss)

The fighters turned to face me, but they could not all swarm me, like they had the guardsmen. Two swung at me with their morningstars, but they missed completely. The rest threw javelins, and while some managed to strike me, the little pieces of sharpened wood did not have enough strength to pierce my magically enhanced flesh. My laughter did not help the goblins’ morale.

New Goblin Warrior Group 2: 1d20+3 = 19 (Miss)

The Goblin Warriors wanted no part of the Wolf behind them, and threw their javelins at me, as they pushed at their fellows, trying to get further away from those vicious teeth. Discipline, what little the greenskins had, was breaking down. They were starting to become a mob.

Melinda’s Attack: 1d20+10 = 13 (Hit)

New Goblin Fighter Group 1’s Attack of Opportunity: 1d20+3 = 20 (Miss)

Damage: 3d6 = 8 Cold (Dead)

Deciding to make a show of things, I haughtily raised my hand, and blasted one of the goblins that had actually managed to hit me with its javelin. The goblin, already wounded by the guards, died straight away as the bolt of icy cold hit him. The fighters closest to me tried to interrupt my attack, but their swings were no closer to hitting me than their last ones.

Frostmane’s Attack: 1d20+13 = 23 (Hit)

Damage: 1d8+9 = 17 Bludgeoning

Damage: 1d6 = 6 Cold

Goblin: (Dead)

The Winter Wolf closed in on the other side, trapping the goblins between us. The ledge they had used to spring their ambush from had become a trap that they could not escape. Once again, the wolf’s jaws closed upon a goblin warrior, and once more that goblin’s life was instantly snuffed out.

The battle became a rout and a slaughter. The goblins were too weak to actually fight against us. Even when they were able to hit either myself or the wolf, they were too weak to actually damage us. They began pleading in their nasty tongue. I couldn’t understand what they said, but it was clearly begging for their lives. The wolf and I ignored them.

For defeating 20 Goblin Warriors, 15 Goblin Fighters, 2 Goblin Rangers, 1 Goblin Shaman, and a Rolling Boulder Trap, you gain 689 Experience.

Your allies gain:

Guards: 273 Experience (Reduced for fleeing)

Frostmane: 31 Experience

I frowned slightly as I looked at the box that the Voice of the World showed me. Shouldn’t all those goblins be worth more? I mean, yeah, they were weak, but there were a lot of them. Then again, it looked like the experience gain was split based on the group size, and their levels. And the Wolf counted as well, which lowered my gains. Oh well, at least the cowards got reduced XP.

Melinda’s Diplomacy Roll: 1d20+13 = 33

I dismissed the screen and looked at the wolf who was standing there upon the ledge, looking at me. Watching me. Waiting to see what I would do next. I took a breath, and then offered a slight bow to the massive creature. “Well met, from one Hunter born of the ice and snow to another. What brings you to the pass this day?”

The wolf chuffed in amusement, and took a moment to try and wash the blood from his snout. When he spoke, it was a growling voice, clearly not used to speaking the common tongue, or at all. “Well, at least you have manners, little bird. That’s far better than most of the two-legged snacks that pass through these hills. Often do I linger in these passes in the warmer months. It does not take long, once the spring melts start, for rats to scurry through in groups, looking to pass from one side of the mountains to the other. And, when that happens, the rabble comes to greet them. I let them spend their strength against each other, and feast on those who remain.”

I nodded my head with a smile. “A wise approach for any hunter. There is time for courage upon the battlefield, and a time to patiently stalk one’s prey, so that the hunter does not become hunted in turn. I was born into the tribes of the Dale, and know how that can be.”

The wolf nodded slowly, and said, “Yes, that would match what I was told of. Not two nights ago, I was resting in my den, having celebrated gaining a class, rather than simply improving my strength as a wolf, when a snow spirit came to me. It was a messenger of the Lady of Winter, sent to inform me that a little twice-born brat sworn to her service was passing through, heading to the southlands in search of adventure, and thought it would be interesting to have the two of us meet. It would seem that she thought the two of us would cause a bit of a stir when we met, which would amuse her.”

I nodded to him. “Then, let us meet properly. I am Melinda Eriksdaughter, formerly of the Tribe of the Elk of Frostwind Dale, Twice-born and Initiated into the service of Auril, the Frostmaiden, Lady of Winter. Who might you be?”

The wolf drew himself up, standing as straight as he could, and said, “I was known to my pack as Frostmane. That name will still suffice, even though I left my pack behind. Or, rather, I did not wish to fight my sire to be the Alpha of my pack, and I was becoming too strong to not challenge, without looking weak to the others. But I had no interest in leading the pack. So, I left.”

“Not everyone with the power to rule wishes to have the responsibilities that ruling requires, I understand. Would you like to come with us? The messenger did not speak falsely, since I heading to the southlands to see what adventures and experiences I might find. And if, along the way, I spread the name of the Lady and new worshippers come to her side, then that is all for the better.”

“Hmph. No doubt. At least you are a proper fighter, even if you use that strange magic. Not afraid to get blood on your claws. The others that were with your group were little yapping dogs that try to sound more impressive than they were. You are a hunter, a killer. I like that. Yes, little bird, I will go with you.”

YES! I had been thinking, ever since I ventured into the Crypt, that I needed to have companions if I was going to go on any real adventures, and now I had my first one! Sure, a giant wolf might not be most people’s first choice for companionship, but hell, I was a follower of a dark nature goddess, the lady of ice and snow. Who better to be at my side than a winter wolf?

“I welcome you, Frostmane. Will you be all right leaving your lair? I do not know when I will return this way again, after all. It is likely that anything left there will be long gone before we return, if we ever do.”

Frostmane chuffed. “I may not be a dragon, but I have eaten well in the seasons I’ve lived near this pass. Some of the things that I’ve found, I’ve kept, for various reasons. I was not expecting to be leaving, and so they remain in my lair. Perhaps they would be useful in adventures, or in procuring the items we might need for adventures, but gathering them up and taking them with me without the use of hands would be… difficult. Unless you were to come and help?”

“Of course, if we’re going to be friends, I see no reason why I can’t help you pack up and move. How far from here is your lair? Up until now, I’ve been a passenger in the caravan, taking my ease as the others did the work of getting us across the tundra. If your lair isn’t far, then we can go and return. Otherwise, we’ll be setting off on our own, I think.”

“If you are as fleet of foot as you appear in the air, then it will not take us long to get to where I keep my lair, only an hour or two at most. But if you have the strength that you do, why not just go alone? You could fly over the mountains in a day, no?”

I shrugged. “Sure, the physical journey wouldn’t be too much trouble. Unless I met some flying monster that took offense to me being in their section of the sky. But just as you could not run for days on end, you can’t expect me to fly all the way from the Nine Towns to the north to the southlands in a single journey. I’d have to land, and sleep, at some point, and it is not cowardly to seek safety in numbers so you can set watches through the night when traveling through the wilderness.”

Frostmane chuffed, looking pleased at the situation. “Your tribe taught you well, it seems. That is the way of wolves, as well. Do we really need the cattle? They’re slow, and noisy, and will attract other scavengers like the Goblins.”

“Well, ‘need’ is a strong word. But I have never been beyond the mountains, and, unless I miss my guess, neither have you. Neither of us know where we would be going, and while venturing into the unknown is an adventure, having a guide to the town would allow us to set off on the right path. Come, let’s go down, and see who is alive, and then I will help you gather your things.”

Frostmane had no objections to that, so we turned, and headed down the rocky slope, using one of the hidden paths that the goblins had made to spring their ambush. When we got to the ground, I was able to survey the damage to the caravan in detail. The wagons had escaped damage, for the most part, the goblins no doubt wanting to take the plunder intact, rather than burying it. The caravan leader, however, had been shot. Two poisoned arrows had spelt the end for him, courtesy of those rangers I killed, no doubt.

I had written the men and horses who had been patrolling ahead of the caravan off as dead, but it seemed that they were luckier than I had thought. Only two men, and three horses, of the six riding in front were beyond saving. The others were shaky on their feet, perhaps, and a couple of them would need some proper rest and magical healing before they could move, but they were alive.

The Priestess of Mystra was tending to Tandred, the Caravan Master’s Second, now that his son had been removed from the role. His leg had been crushed by a boulder, along with his horse, but he lived. Sadly, so did Tyrell.

Tyrell’s face turned up in a snarl when he saw me approaching, but that snarl quickly disappeared into a look of terror as he spotted Frostmane walking up behind me. He quickly busied himself with doing something, anything, else, while I looked down at Tandred. No point beating around the bush. “Tandred, I made a friend while killing off the goblins back there, and he’s willing to come along with us as we leave the mountains. He’s got some things he wants to bring with him, so I told him I’d help him pack. We should be back by nightfall. What will the caravan do?”

Tandred shifted, a flash of pain crossing his face as he did so. “Nothing much we can do. Need time to move those rocks out of the road. By the time we move them, no point in continuing on. We’ll make a rough camp tonight, and get an early start in the morning. Hopefully we won’t lose too much time. We’ll wait until dawn for you, in case it takes you longer than you thought, but then we’ll be moving on. Too many injuries to linger, but the presence of your friend will help keep problems at bay, I hope, so we’ll wait as long as we can.”