The tumultuous approach of this new foe put Frans Vou on edge. The young knight turned his head towards the sound, keeping his shield up and facing towards the yet unseen marksman hidden amongst the trees. Where they to be surrounded and outflanked by this unknown enemy? What bandit might have set such a trap for their arrival? Was it so common that companies of ragtag mercenaries stopped by this lonesome witch’s hunt in the forest, therein justifying the creation of this flanking maneuver? Perhaps this was indeed the case, and the corpses already littering the ground like so many fallen leaves were a testament to this fact. Frans Vou did not know for sure, neither did he care, upon his mind alone was his immediate survival. He recalled only moments before the dawi slipping into the tree line to deal with their hidden sniper, if fortune would have it he would be successful in his endeavors and allow for the remainder of the Esteemed Company to face this new threat head-on without fear of an arrow piercing their unprotected backs. Frans Vou did not know the dwarf well enough to be assured the small one would bring down the aggressor, but as fate would have it he had little choice in the matter. Balgrim had proven himself a determined and experienced campaigner if nothing else. And Frans Vou saw no other option but to entrust the dwarf with his life.

	Wheeling on his toes the knight Errant set himself with good posture beside his Estalian employer, sword and shield raised in preparation for battle, prepared to face vile men and bandits when a foe he could never have expected burst from the trees.

	Frans Vou wasn’t sure what to make of this creature. It was about as lofty as Frans Vou himself from its head to its hooves, though if it’s curving horns were added to its height it might have stood nearly eight feet tall. It was loosely garbed and covered mostly in mangy brown fur that stank of mud and mildew. The ungor, for that was what it was, could have been best described as a goat with the body and face of man. He disgusted Frans Vou to no end, and the high classed Breton curled his lip at the untasteful miscreant wishing nothing more than to shove his sword betwixt the thing’s hideous face. Frans Vou had never seen one himself before, but one of his elder brothers had been slain by a stray one while out hunting back when he had been but a lad of thirteen. Frans Vou’s father and a hundred yeomen had hunted the beast down in vengeance and brought back its horns which even to this day hung over the mantle in the Bluspereaux estate.

	The first of the beastmen was soon joined by over a score more. They filled the local woods with the sound of their pounding hooves and baleful grunts while waving a variety of malicious weaponry over their heads. They appeared unperturbed by the stalwart defense presented to them by Frans Vou and Severo, perhaps because the fight was currently seven to one in their eyes, or maybe the untimely retreat of the ice mage who fled like a women from the fight. “Stand zee ground [i]boursiers[/i]” Frans Vou yelled over the oncoming foe. “Zer is no honor in running away! We shall die ze death of heroes!” Of course death was the farthest thing from Frans Vou’s intentions. Raising a bone whistle which had been hidden under his collar he blew thrice upon it, sending up a shrill cry that echoed throughout the trees, he made as if to blow a fourth time when the leading ungor set upon him, swinging a club to crush the Breton’s skull.

	The whistle fell forgotten at Frans Vou’s feet, to be crushed by a hoof a moment later. The man’s fullest attention was upon not being slain by the beast standing a hairsbreadth away. Bringing his shield into play Frans Vou smashed the snarling face eliciting a sharp pained cry from the ungor. But before Frans Vou could slay the beast outright a second one pressed in close jabbing at the knight’s stomach with his spear. The dull blade turned on the gambeson and Frans hacked open the opportunistic beastman’s face, his sword blade clanging off the creature’s horns. Once again it crossed Frans Vou’s mind how fortunate it would have been to have dressed in full armor, but there was nothing for it but to continue the fight as was.

	Armor or no Frans Vou was in full form now. His years of professional training in the battleschools of Bretonnia brought out the almost instinctive acts of a deadly warrior as he stepped over the two wounded ungor and slew another, stabbing his sword through its beating heart and leaving it to bleed out upon the forest floor. There was no mercy in the knight Errant’s heart and he dispatched the first two permanently, with a series of quick thrusts until they lay motionless. The ungor, although not slowed in their charge eyed the young knight with a new respect, of fighters not wishing to share the fate of those who had faced him first. One of their number, a massive ungor wielding a machete-like sword stepped forth exchanging a series of furious blows with the Breton and even forcing him to step back and rejoin Severo. Their confidence restored by this display of skill from one of their own the beastmen sought to outflank surround the battling mercenaries, but doing so far more cautiously than before.