Bugs, bugs, bugs... I'm still picking the spider goo from the soles of my shoes!
Trucido held a strong presence in the Ettenmoors on this mediocre Monday. The word of the day: "Tactics".
After one ruddy, misbegotten head-on contest it became undeniably apparent that the Free Peoples' militia was quite outnumbered. Open field skirmishes were patently avoided in favor at times of what might be called, more or less, guerrilla style warfare.
Under competent leadership the Freep militia made a play for Tirith Rhaw, employing the rage of an old she-bear who found it agreeable to crush her way through the grinning, barking orcs that held the site. Before the keep would be rid of its squatters though, and thus be reclaimed in the name of all that is fair, sneaky spiders began to slip in, using shadow and distraction, until their number were sufficient to turn our drive. The old she-bear was woefully ineffective in cramped quarters, and alas! our efforts were for not.
For safety the Free Peoples gathered themselves about the stalwart Elf Camp to suture and bind wounds. Our respite was short lived, for there too came spite and violence, warg and spider, and not a few orcs. Here on friendly ground evil met its match and could not find foothold. Emboldened by sheer numbers, they made for us even within the walls of our own! But we would not be moved, and the enemy spat and fizzled like a sorcerer's spark on a frozen winter's day.
Enough battle for this day. Tomorrow will have its own adventures, and perhaps, a story or two to be told.
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