...and then the forest turned into wolves.

We'd decided to join the notorious Geribald the Kinslayer, leader of a group called the Brotherhood of Outlaws, to kill the Werewolf of Mirkwood. A creature who wiped out an entire community a fortnight ago. With us, we brought our own band of outlaws, men we salvaged from their own reckless natures. Out band of 15 men strong was made up of mercenary soldiers who followed the angry brother of a king, bandits who ambushed farmers on the road and a murderer. Farin, a dwarven warrior with a fatalistic view that he would die by a great wolf, and myself, Enoch, a scholar, healer from Laketown with no fighting skill.

We entered Mirkwood. We'd been here before, Mirkwood proved to be less than hospitable. It proved itself again to be a manifestation of death. As we reached the top of a rolling hill, below a group of wolves waited. They took up position of ambush. After conferring with Ferin, we devised a plan to shape the battlefield in our favor. We harvested logs from the forest, surrounded our position with flaming logs to funnel the wolves into us and set other flaming logs down the hill towards the wolves position.

The battle was a flurry of smoke and fur. Out spear and shield men formed two lines, if one was wounded they would step back and the one in the second row stepped up. Those that were wounded I did my best to heal. Our archers harassed the wolves with flaming arrows and Ferin was the wild card and fought were the need was most.

While the details are blurry in my mind, the wolves proved to be an overpowering opponent. Our blows missed their mark as their claws and teeth found flesh. And then the pack leader attacked. It leapt over the front line and sunk its teeth deep into me. I felt the pressure on the bone of my arm and was surprised it didn't snap. This seemed to rally the men. They forgot about their individual assignments and concentrated their attacks on the pack leader. The blows the missed or glanced away were now finding the soft underbelly. Arrow and spear sipped away at the leader's life. And now the hunters were being hunted and the pack leader ran.

Farin rushed through the battle, avoiding the snapping jaws of the other wolves, to engage the leader. Farin's axe named Wolf Biter, cleaved into spine and the leader released a loud cry and fell lifeless to the ground. The other wolves scrambled, but it was too late. My men were on them, striking with more confidence and the rest easily slain.

We harvest the pelts. We rested and tended to wounds. We nearly lost two of our men, but both survived. 

Farther into the forest we traveled until we found two men, lookouts of Geribald. We parlayed and were escorted into camp where we made our intentions known. He accept our company, but asked for help for one of his men who'd been bitten by a wolf and the wound was infected by Shadow.

I'd seen Seragon or Blood on the Stone, a bright red flower the grew on rocky outcroppings, coming into camp. It would help with the tending to wounds infected with Shadow. In our search to find the plant I met a curious creature. A woman in the forest. She called herself Duskwater, but said she had no need for names. She told me where to find the flower I sought and just as quickly she disappeared back into the forest near Black Tarn, a large pond. And I swear, she may have turned into a silver trout and swam away. I don't find this odd, I've assisted Beorn who can turn himself into a bear. These things no longer surprise me.

I tended to Geribald's man. He will recover in time. After some rest, some planning, we intend to hunt this werewolf and put an end to its savagery.