Chilled, by the sudden howl, talks turn to conflict. Lal'ren steps up, bravely taking control of the group, and volunteering himself to check it out. The Gnoll stood up as well, feeling honor-bound to protect his father the leader of the expedition. Lal'Ren with the pickaxe, and The Gnoll, confident in his hands, walked through the exit, and stood together as they awaited their foes.
It took a few minutes, but the foes finally appeared on the horizon. Lal'Ren, Situated solidly on the Gnoll's shoulders watch careful as they neared. After a short while, the enemies were easily identified: Two Orcish Worg-riders charged toward them, the spit flying from their mouths almost matching the drool from the Worgs. Lal'ren's superior mind noticed a very vital detail: These worgs were starving. This was a mixed bag; They'd be more viscous, but much more weak. Lal'ren prepared himself, and The Gnoll stared forward with what seemed to be both a mix of stupidity and bravery.
The Worgs were just closing the gap when Lal'Ren decided to act. He had The Gnoll gingerly pick him up, and he prepared himself for what was ahead. With a mighty fling, Lal'ren Sped towards the left rider, pickaxe at the ready. His superior mind had always been his greatest weapon, and with this mind came great perception. Two things became clear. This was an absolutely insane Idea, and he should probably swing the pick right about now. The pick smacks the orc with a deafening thump, and it slouches over slouched over. Lal'ren stood triumphantly on the Orc's seemingly unconscious body, and begins to pound at the Worg's skull. It whimpers, and it's fragile bones collapse as well, flinging both Lal'ren and the rider into the sand as it's front leg's collapse from unconsciousness.
The Gnoll felt empowered from this righteous display, and let how a bellowing call. He charged at the other Worg, his several hundred pound body sinking into the sand. This of course, resulted in him tripping and down on his face he fell. The worg, seeing an opportunity, sped up and pounced upon his body.
Lal'ren saw nothing but the Worg leap, and he assumed his loyal Gnoll dead. He began to figure out what to do next as the flurry next to him caught his eye. The Gnoll had managed to roll over, and with his hands, grabbed the worg around the neck. He rose again with a yell, shaking the rider into the sand as he snapped the Worg's neck. The Gnoll flung the body aside, a new look replacing the bravery which had once fluttered in his eyes: Blood-lust. The Orc rose and roared, and charged with his sword. With one fell swipe, half of the Gnoll's left hand was removed. The Gnoll seemed to either not care, or to not notice as he flung himself upon the Orc. In a flurry of sand and blood, the Orc was slaughtered. When the Gnoll rose back up, his half destroyed hand already regenerating, he saw his work. In front of him was an Orc body, ripped into three parts. The Gnoll turned towards Lal'ren, expecting pride, but saw only horror. The Gnoll brushed it off, and collected his bounty: The bodies of the two riders and their mounts; one set dead, the other unconscious, as well as their weapons, two long, dark steel blades. They walked back to the cave, the Gnoll leading, with Lal'ren staying a reasonable distance away.
After his awesome show of power, The Gnoll has been dubbed Tre'Me, Orc's Bane