The ambushers are none other than Adonis, Harou and Beren... accompanied by a tall thin fellow with a once-fine cloak now half-drenched in mud.

The pursuers are none other than Thomas leading his merry band - the elderly but still hale Brakkus, gangly Karl, graceful Eldor and of course withered Bjorn.  Alongside them comes a slim lad with pale hair and a cautious stare.

[You have about 3 hours till sundown.  Meet, greet, and git a move on...]

Seeing the looks of familiarity exchanged between the 2 sides, the tall thin fellow glances towards Adonis and Beren, looking for some cue as to the identity of the newcomers. Seeing none, he decides not to wait to be introduced. Venturing slowly and cautiously out from his cover, he stops in the middle of the path, leaning heavily on his worn wooden staff as he appraises the newcomers one by one.

Offering the newcomers a polite nod, he raises his hand in greeting, "Well met, Friends. Kjaelos be my name." Eyes twinkling in wry amusement, he continues, "Good of you to join us actually, for our journey ahead seems dark and perilous. As my old father used to say, 'More beasts to the slaughter; the more the merrier...'"

Brakkus smiles to see the doughty Sir Adonis once again, and greets his comrades in arms, both old and new.

"I think I was spotted earlier, and I believe we are pursued" he adds, spoiling the mood somewhat.

Eyebrows raised at Brakkus' news, Kjaelos, considering the possibility for setting an ambush, quickly asks, "By Ettryck soldiers? How many of them? And how far behind?"