You and your party of 4 armed and armored swordsmen feel an uneasy prickling sensation, almost as if you are being watched. You quickly scan the surroundings, but you are sure nothing can hide behind the flimsy tree trunks or scarce shrubbery which make up the immediate foliage.
Suddenly, you get an intense feeling of dread as you look to the one direction you had not checked yet - up into the leafy canopy above. Thousands tiny reflections glint back at you, each one a pair of malicious eyes. It's an Elven ambush! Before you can utter a cry to your companions, countless wooden bolts and arrows rain down upon your party, each one tipped with cruel barbs and spikes.
You frantically leap to the side, narrowly avoiding the swarm of razor-sharp projectiles. Rolling to your feet, you whip out a -copper carving knife- and throw it at the nearest pair of elven eyes in one smooth motion, scoring a startled yelp. As the leaven body falls from the branches, you swing your +iron longsword+ and cleave the elf into two bloody halves with one ferocious strike.
You spare a passing glace to your men and see them already engaging clusters of 8 or 9 elves each, with more coming from the treetops. You grit your teeth and pray that they can hold out. Hearing the tell-tale rustling and clinking of bolts and arrows being hastily reloaded, you sheath your sword and take a running jump up onto a low branch before springing yourself up into the canopy above, hoping to engage the archers before they can fire off another volley.
Will Urist McAdventurer survive? Find out in the next installment of:
