Roughly two hundred adventures marched up the mountain road, there was no formation, they flowed and moved in a sense all their own, a misfit band of warriors, hunters, mages, archers, and alchemists. They were not soldiers in the professional sense, in a battle upon an open field they would be slaughtered by the tactics that relied upon tightly cohesive movements and a strict hierarchy of officers. These were explorers and monster slayers, in single combat or moving in small units they were far superior, masters of asymmetrical warfare, they would use poison, traps, and the environment itself to wear down and kill their prey. Warriors who specialize in singular blows meant to kill a heavily armored beast, alchemists who mixed dangerous and volatile concoctions which could, burn, paralyze or even freeze their opponents. Still any one who saw them would think they were marching to their doom if they knew what lay in wait for them at the Fortress of Seven-Peaks.

The various forces were split up into groups led by more veteran members, Havmal himself took over all command as the most experienced among them, The mountain of a man was dressed in a full suit of armor crafted from the hide of the massive frost wolf whose head was mounted in the guild hall. A two handed axe rested on his shoulder, carved from the wolf's fang, Hoarfrost was it's name.

For Adrian this was a massive chance at boosting his standing as both a noble and an adventurer, and he intended to make full use of it. The banner of the Blackwood hall was raised high, carried by Tagrid, those who recognized the wolf's head questioned if the Duke had marched to battle with a small group of knights, though none dared approached. Karl and Hanz took up a protective formation around the impromptu banner man proudly bearing their round shields embossed with the same symbol, while Annabelle and Margitte took up a position at his side. There were many eyes upon their party, admiration, jealousy, fear. He could feel all those swirling emotions around him and mentally marked out any who seemed less than savory.

The had been on the march for three days before reaching the base of the mountain pass which contained the fortress, camp was called, and scouts were volunteered to deploy. Adrian's unit had been “volunteered” for just such a duty, though he though his troops were ill suited for scouting, though reconnaissance in force was a different matter entirely.

For this purpose Margitte was put in the front of the formation with Adrian and Annabelle in the center with Tagrid and the brother taking up the rear and flanks, using their round shields they could easily defend a wider area then normal. Margitte moved crouched low moving here and there ducking from shadow to shadow, Adrian could feel his emotions a mixture of hunger, arousal, and excitement. More like then not from her animalistic heritage.

Annabelle was a different story together, there were no expressions for him to read beneath the closed visor of her sallet, but what he could feel from her was a mixture of trepidation and stubborn resolve. He place a firm hand on her pauldron, he remembered the first day he had ridden with his father to stamp out a group of bandits that made camp on the fringes of the province, he too felt much the same way she felt now. From what he had been able to gather she had spent the majority of the day training with Tagrid, still even encased in the finest armor he had ever seen, he was worried for her.

"Another one my lord" Margitte pointed to a group of rocks up the side of the slope, "alright take him out if you can" Adrian whispered into her ear. "Your wish is my command, my Lord" she cooed before disappearing into the thicket they were hiding in. Adrian watched fixated upon that outcropping till he saw the figure of Margitte thrust her sword into the back of an unexpected goblin and toss him down the slope. "That makes three now, that doesn't bode well for us" Karl spoke softly. "Neither does this” Hanz added pulling a body behind him, a runner pin cushioned with arrows sightly bloated. "He's been dead for a few days" Karl explained. "Alright, lets go report to Havmal" Adrian sighed as he used a hand signal to motion a retreat to Margitte.

Havmal stood in front of a tent being used as a command post, he was busy staring over a map of the location, "Havmal I've got bad news" Adrian spoke causing the giant of a man to look up and take a look at what they brought with them. "That's a runner from the fortress, and goblin ears, how many did you encounter" he inquired raising a had to stroke his chin. "Four archers, no warriors yet" Margitte replied. "Hmm either they are still in their caverns, or something worse is a foot. We've no choice but to march on the keep if we want to get a hold of the situation" Havmal sighed a heavy sigh. "Don't tell the rest of the men yet, no need to spook them” he stated with nod. "Havmal sir, we've found a survivor" a voice called out from another scouting party.

The survivor was bruised, beaten, and bleeding with armor in tatters yet still clinging to life, "Calderus get your ass over here" Havmal bellowed out as he strode towards the wounded figure. Calderus dashed from the tent his brown robe flashing in the wind with a bandoleer loaded with vials full of mysterious fluids, he examined the wounded dwarf. "Can you do anything for him" Havmal inquired. Calderus pushed his half spectacles up the bridge of his nose, "it'll either kill him or save his life" Calderus replied as he poured a vial into the unconscious Dwarf's throat and sat him up and forced him to swallow.

There was a long break of silence followed by a coughing sputter as the Dwarf awoke "bloody hell ya fuck bucket, what in the ancestors did you make me dink" he yelled as he slowly tried to stand. "Hmm, mix of viper venom, gryphon's blood, and just a hint of hemlock" she replied pain as day. "Are ya a bloody poisoner or a healer" the dwarf questioned incredulously. "Alchemist actually and a damn good one" he replied with a sense of pride.

"So the runners got through" The Dwarf questioned. "No we received a call to arms from an imperial messenger, can you tell us what happened" Havmal inquired. "Aye I'll bloody fucking tell ya, wyverns bloody fucking wyverns drove a goblin war band out of their warrens and straight into the under levels of the keep, last I remember I charged into a tunnel full of goblins and tried to blow my self up and collapse the tunnel. One of the buggers knock me into an underground stream, and when I came to I was in a cave somewhere but I collapsed, probably should be bloody fucking dead right now, but your mad poisoner over there saved my ass" he shouted causing everyone to stare incredulously.

"Scouts can you find that cave again" Havmal questioned only to be answered with a firm nod. "Adrian while we assault the front I want you to take a team through the cave system and if possible mount an assault on their rear" he spoke clasping Adrian's shoulder. "Not with out me you're bloody not" The Dwarf replied surging forward with new energy. "What's your name" Adrian questioned with an out stretched hand. "Zarick, I was the commander of the Dwarven forces stationed at the fortress" he replied giving the human a firm hand shake. "Adrian Black, Son of Duke Arrianus Black" he replied.

"You have your orders, now carry them out" Havmal firmly commanded before moving to organize the rest of the camp.

It was slow moving in the cavern as all but the dwarves found themselves constantly ducking the stalactites hanging from the ceiling, their path was each one carried a vial containing luminescent worms that when gently shook would give of a bright soft blue light. Each member of the party moved carefully following Tagrid and Zarick as they carefully navigated the caves, they moved so naturally through the caverns, years spent working underground had give them both a mastery of the terrain that no human miner could attain. Zarick moved with a single mindedness driven by a strong desire for revenge, revenge for his men, revenge for all who had fallen and those that would fall. Like all of his kind Zarick hated their ancient enemy.

Margitte sighed in annoyance, the constant echoing of dripping water and the damp musty smell wreaked havoc upon her heightened senses, it was almost impossible for her to make heads or tails of the cavern. She hated caves and dungeons, they limited one's mobility and dulled their senses leaving one to be easily ambushed. Her tail was bristling with irritation, her head twitching this way and that, she reminded Adrian of a loyal hound guarding it's master.

Annabelle was oddly comfortable in the dark wetness of the mountain cavern, if it were not for her height one might think she was a dwarf and in many ways she shared many of their traits, her knowledge of the various minerals they passed managed to impress even the former miner Tagrid. Secretly she was hoping they would come a cross a rare vein of ore that she could come back and mine at a later date.

Adrian focused his mind in the darkness of the cave often making his breathing whilst stretching his senses out around them, he was not listening but feeling searching for any emotions he could discover that did not belong to the party.

Tagrid was first to motion a halt with a signal Zarick knew well, an intersection lay ahead of them, everyone slowly came to a stop as Zarick pressed his head to the stone floor and tapped a spoon to the cold stone surface. Tagrid watch the old dwarf as he used a code identical to dwarven mining code "four goblins to the right of the intersection, also dwarves, large room" Tagrid whispered the message to Adrian.

Adrian motioned for Margitte to come up beside him, "fire an arrow into one of them and lure them into this room" he whispered and she nodded in reply before slipping into the intersection.

They waited in silence on either side of the cramped opening, waited for the familiar twang of Margitte's powerful bow, but it never came. Adrian had to hold himself in check, the rage was building just below the surface. Then they heard an ear piercing shriek followed by a series of orders being barked and screeched in the guttural goblin language. “Hmm, looks like the attack is underway, they were just called to defend the gatehouse” Zarick spoke in amusement. "You speak goblin" Adrian questioned. "Speak it no, but I can understand, when ever facing an enemy it is best to understand what motivates them to best predict their movements on the battle field" Zarick explained as he motioned them to move into the intersection.

Carefully they approached the room only to find Margitte bashing the locks of primitive but sturdy cages that contained a dozen Dwarven prisoners with shaved beards. Seeing his men in such a state enraged Zarick, with out a word he grabbed an axe laying nearby and worked to free his captured men. They stared in disbelief, last they had seen of the former scout captain was his suicidal charge into the gaping maw of death. They were still highly trained disciplined soldiers who spoke not a word as they were freed, one by one, malnourished as they were they took up their arms.