Islands of Safety

I should have known by now that any sign of danger coming to us meant the equivalent to a shit storm. The drums of the orcs echoed across the lake and all of us took cover, except for the very obvious white tabaxi. That meant a fight, something that excited me more than it should, but I felt the adrenaline of a fight and I couldn't ignore the call of the Huntress. The way of the barbarian was to fight, and fight I would, no matter the consequences.
 
Grandfather had often told us about the orcs that ransacked villages in the Spine during the Eldritch War. Those orcs that lived close to the lake were far removed from the ones that he spoke of, but I was beyond excited to fight these warring people, since it was no secret the extreme dislike orcs and elves had for each other. As they landed on the lakeshore, I fitted an arrow in my bowstring, loosing what was only the beginning of an entertaining battle. With the twang of the string, an orc fell and from there all hell broke loose. The cat threw a smoke bomb, shrouding most of the destroyed town and a few of the orcs. I drew my sword from my back and flew easily into a rage, striking down the group of orcs in front of me while the others dealt with those in the smoke and their half-orc leader.
 
I was lost in my fight, but soon drawn from that focus by an explosion that left me deaf and my ears ringing. I finished the orcs close to me before turning to see the greater mess that the others had brought upon us. The half-orc that I had heard slinging spells was now larger than any of us, towering over us and ready to strike. As the fight had gone on, my rage had brought focus along with a kill count that would make my grandfather proud. I stepped towards the towering half-orc and let loose a blow that would have their spell faltering and their life hanging by a thread.
 
Once the half-orc was taken down, the remaining few orcs ran for their boats, their horn call from earlier still hanging in the air. More drums sounded as longboats moved across the lake and volleys of arrows rained down upon us. With the first instance of caution since we left Barkest, the group decided to run, hiding our tracks as we moved far enough away from the orcs to be able to remove the barbed arrows that the orcs were known for. Our cleric helped the others remove their arrows, but I was impatient and removed my own, ready to be away from the nonsense that the others had gotten us into.
 
Another night on the plains was quiet, and for that I was glad. Predators roamed close, but they passed us by as we rested. The next morning brought us to the river Wilderrun and on the far side, Tortle Rock Island. With the wild shape of the druid, we were ferried across, but not without the help of my barbarian magic to calm the fear of Fjord. We were welcomed to the island and found a bed to sleep in at the inn. The others wished to find specific residents of the island to gain something, but I wanted the peace of the open air and the quiet of this island. The further west we traveled, the closer we got to my homeland and the family Miz and I had left behind months ago. It felt odd to be so close but to not be heading towards Leverion. As the days warmed, grandfather would be moving the camp back towards the pass, away from the winter home close to the frozen north of the paladins. They would begin the preparation for the summer trade missions to the Underdark, and for the first time in a long time, I wouldn't be there.
 
We chose to wait for the others to catch up, sending one of the druid's creatures back to Barkest. I was impatient to see Miz and tell her of the battles, but I more impatient for the paladin's advice. Either way, we would continue moving toward the Fairy King's Wood and the Feywild, for reasons I was still unsure about. But I would follow my friends, no matter the danger that waited for us.