Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

As the dawn breaks upon the tree tops in Doron Amar a company of elves and allies, about twelve people strong, crosses the bridge and enter the elven refuge. Their faces and outfits are blackened by soot and ashes, the pale rays of the morning sun shining only on the drawn swords and teeth of this ragged company.

Bared teeth ready to bite ? No, these people are simply smiling, smiling to the morning sun and smiling about their deeds. Tensed bows and faces ease up as the rangers guarding the bridge recognize those faces and it's under welcoming and eager eyes that they make their entrance in Doron Amar. Most of what they did was guessed by the rangers but not all.

Yesterday morning most of these people headed out in the burning woods to help the druids who were trying to quench the fires provoked by the orcish war machines. Arkaine Half-Orken, Ferragus Magnus, Laya Jyne, Teuvaelivae Sigedaoin, Api Kar'tu, Celduil Selie, Lambe Arkoyln, Mealir Ostirel, were lead through the woods by the Evereskan rangers where they last saw the druids before being assaulted by Black Orcs and separated from them.
Through the first fires and flames, hours after they departed, a diminished company went back to Doron Amar to take some rest. Diminished but accompanied by two druids that they managed to rescue despite heavy losses. The fires were contained for now, raging and consuming the woods but enough was done to prevent Doron Amar itself from burning.

As the valiant paladins were still resting most of them were back to the first bridge, guarding it successfully against small squadrons of orcs too enraged to see they were running in a death trap.

A halfling wizard named Cal as well as an elven druidess, Athalanthiel, joined them in that guard and no orc passed the bridge. Slowed down by spells, riddled full of arrows, welcomed by sharp swords their corpses were soon joining the reddening flow of the river. The attacks were obviously ill-fated and all of them were wondering if Gullykin was being assaulted or not while they were kept busy.

The two saved druids appeared behind them, calmly announcing that they were about to summon a gigantic water elemental to quench the fires that were still consuming the forest. An elemental of considerable power, so much that they would have to control it directly, staying in its body. Deaf to the concerns of the other people they acomplished their ritual and soon enough a titanic elemental was rushing towards the nearby fires to quench them.

As mighty and powerful as it seemed to be, the elemental could not be controlled easily and was an obvious target for the orcs who quickly saw the threat it was posing to their plans. They attacked it and the bridge defenders rushed to help, fighting off the orcs in the chaos of half-burnt tree trunks.
The struggle was fierce and many lay unconscious as the water elemental, wounded, escaping the druid's control went wild and attacked everyone aimlessly for what seemed to be a lifetime. The rain, the blessed rain, fell on time. Together with Athalantiel's healing spell it was enough to sustain the elemental a while longer and for the druids to control it anew.

Battling Orcs squadrons one after the other as the elemental was quenching fires they went on, without resting, following the creature in the sinister aftermath of the forest fire. Ultimately no fire was in sight anymore and after a short moment the elemental collapsed, leaving the two corpses of the druids laying on the ground.

The two druids were unconscious, Athalanthiel and Celduil's care were enough for one of them to speak a few sentences. They were satisified, accepting their fate, they knew they'd died doing it and it's in their forest that their corpses dissapeared while the company was mourning this tragic loss.

The strike of vengeance was offered by one of the Evereskan rangers who came back running to where most of the company was, still mourning the druids. The Orcs had established a small camp on this side of the river, about sixty of them in a place surrounded by rocks and leaning against the river.

Outnumbered but decided to not let this occassion pass the company bivouacked right where they were and waited for the night and mead to dull the sense of the orcs. The plan was simple, deal with the sentries, run in, kill the leader and wreak as much havoc as possible then run before engaging any serious fight.

It was to strike terror in their hearts, slit throats in their sleep, burn them where they were. Cal and Celduil approached their camp in the dead of the night, the sleep spells of the halfling wizard seemed to work and the signal was sent, the company ran in the darkness and unleashed a wave of destructive spells and deadly arrows on the orc camp.

Grease spells, Hellball, storm of vengeance, earthquake, bombardement, fireball. The vengeance struck the Black Orcs and devastated their encampment in a couple of hearbeats, the leader was struck down, feathered by the arrows of the rangers and the Orcs were either dead or fleeing in utter terror. It is only after this that the company made it back to Doron Amar, teeth flashing in the morning mist.

A war band of adventurers makes their way into the Sharpteeth, with what appears to be a mission to push the Black Orcs from the Sharpteeth...if not this, then to force their own ideologies upon the children of Gruumsh through brute force.

Hidden at the edges of the woods, one watches their party move without stealth through the trees and along the obvious pathways.

Easily enough, a signal is passed to the horde by the watcher, and within no time at all, the Black Orc unleashes a cruel lesson to those that would challenge the Orc might that now has claimed the Sharpteeth Wood as their home.

The adventurers' bodies pile high, and as the carnage rages in the foreground, the watcher sits hidden, snorting in what can only be translated as...pleasure.