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The horse, entering a state of completely adrenaline fueled panic, was still straight on its course. Charles really had no option but to cling on or be slung off and clobbered into paste. He flailed his sword from side to side attempting to make odds or end of what was ahead. Surely there was...

There was but another moment of eerie calm before the mare reared wildly and one of the creatures revealed itself behind them. From it issued an arrow which connected to the mare's thigh with a shhhllk sound and an eruption of pained neighs. Charles was almost thrown and nearly hacked his own...

Charlemagne's steed snorted and swiveled her ears, whether catching the scent herself or just mirroring his current discomfort. Well, he figured, he had three options. Bolt the dappled mare and himself away from the oncoming pungency, hopefully avoiding any possible ambush. Draw his sword and...

His name was Charlemagne Cyprian and all he could smell was orc. Wherever they were, they were close. Very close. Somehow the stranger in the strange land had strayed even farther than he had previously thought, and quite possibly, into trouble. He had little on him, his sword, several smaller...