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Steel Dragon's "Tales of Orea"
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<blockquote data-quote="steeldragons" data-source="post: 5666092" data-attributes="member: 92511"><p><u><em><strong>2 Days Earlier</strong></em></u></p><p> </p><p> The night went by quietly. Not surprising since the group was still within the lands considered to be part of the Laklans. By mid-morning, the neatly ordered fields and orchards became more natural looking and unkempt. They crossed several brooks and tributaries, some leading to Lake Imerlis and some finding their way to the D’Evand. </p><p> </p><p> One such crossing, a humped wooden bridge sported a wooden post with simple pointed signs. One said “Mill Road” and pointed to little more than a path that led upstream. Another said “the Downs” and pointed back the way they’d come. A third slab of wood said “Dragons” and pointed down the road in the direction they wanted to go. </p><p> </p><p> This was more than a bit disconcerting for Haelan, but he was assured by one of the locals traveling with them that it really meant “the Dragonmage.” This put the Halfling priest at some ease, trusting the simple farmer until he added, “Cuz, ya know the Dragonmage has a buncha them.” Again, Haelan’s stomach twisted into knots.</p><p> </p><p> Shortly after crossing a very old looking stone bridge, the wagon train came to a “namestone.” It was common in the days of the Selurian Empire to place these six foot pillars of white rock at the borders between regions or at particularly important or well-traveled crossroads. </p><p> </p><p> Grasses and weeds grew up to conceal the bottom two feet of the pillar. In the centuries since the Godswar, the white marble had been weathered to a point that none of the original writing could be seen though a bit of ornamentation, twining vines and leaves mostly, could still be gleaned around the borders where writing would have been.</p><p></p><p>The pillar had been painted at some point in the decades since with place names in the Common tongue. Near the top, it said “You are leaving the Lake Lands. The gods keep you.” Below that was the word, “Thornfeld” and “the Feldmere” beneath which an arrow pointed to the southwest.</p><p> </p><p> At eye level for Duor, on the opposite side of the namestone, the pillar sported the word “Daenfrii” with an arrow pointing them north and then “Welford” with an arrow indicating one to continue along the road and “Feldmere” with an arrow pointing south.</p><p> </p><p> “Nice to see someone’s keepin’ up on these things.” Duor remarked. </p><p> </p><p> Coerraine agreed. “But what is the Feldmere?”</p><p> </p><p> Again, one of the refugees enlightened the party, the middling-aged man with the chainmail vest. “The Feldmere is a cursed swamp filled with all manner of evil. It’s said there was a great battle at Thornfeld in the time of the Scourge Wars and somehow the swamp is connected that way. But I don’t really know ‘bout all o’ that. Lotsa ghost stories for the campfire ‘bout the Feldmere, though.”</p><p> </p><p> Braddok and Coerraine looked at one another uneasily.</p><p> </p><p> The man continued, “It extends for miles to the south and west before the Orean Plains. If’n I’m not mistaken, this path leads us close to its edge before we turn north to Daenfrii.” He leaned in towards the obviously rattled Haelan, who sat tucked in front of Braddok astride one of Kudjik’s horses. “<em>Daaaangerously</em> close.” Then he chuckled.</p><p> </p><p> “You seem to know these parts pretty well. Comfortable with a sword too.” Braddok observed and gave a nod at the scabbard on the man’s belt.</p><p> </p><p> The man smiled half-heartedly. “Well, I weren’t a farmer all my life…if that’s what you’re getting’ at. But that’ll be a story for another time.” At that, he slowed his pace to drop back to the cart coming up behind them (the one that had the goats tied to the back). He stared warmly up at the woman and young girl in the driver’s seat of the cart then absently turned and peered towards the north.</p><p> </p><p> Braddok nudged his mount forward to catch up with Alaria on the lead wagon (she had honored the merchant’s invitation to ride with him that morning. The wizard did not at all miss time in a saddle.)</p><p> </p><p> Coerraine, who had Duor on the back of the horse he rode (the paladin was taking his assignment of watching the dwarf rogue quite seriously, to Duor’s displeasure), also came forward and the companions looked out to the south and west.</p><p> </p><p> Kudjik brought the wagon to a halt at the crest of a low hill and whistled. They all looked out toward the south at the expanse of marshlands that extended before them. A gloomy mist hovered above the whole swamp, even in the height of midday. Some clumps of twisted trees spotted the terrain here and there, but on the whole the vegetation and mist produced a wide flat stretch of dull greys and murky greens.</p><p> </p><p> “Huh. So that’s the Feldmere.” Said Fen offhandedly. The druid had been happy to travel on foot and broke from his easy-going banter with the various refugees to join his companions.</p><p> </p><p> Gnobert, astride Buttercream snaked their way to the front of the train to find out why they’d stopped. He also whistled a long tone that dropped off.</p><p> </p><p> “Good thing we’re not going there, eh my friends?” Kudjik smiled broadly in an attempt at humor.</p><p> </p><p> Braddok noted the farmer with the chainmail vest had been correct as the road did wind down through the ever-flatter landscape and seemed to pass not far from the edge of the fog that covered the Feldmere.</p><p> </p><p> “We’re going close enough.” Answered Haelan with no humor in his voice at all.</p><p> </p><p></p><p> It was nearly five hours since the caravan had passed the namestone. The foggy wetlands had been silent and forboding to their south for more than two of those hours. As the sun began dipping towards the west, and late afternoon slipped into evening, the swamp seemed to take on a darker more ominous presence.</p><p></p><p>North of the road, small rolling hills and clumps of thick woods still dotted the landscape, but the woods and hills were getting fewer and farther between, filled in with stretches of high grasses.</p><p> </p><p> Kudjik very much wanted to get the caravan passed view of the swamp before stopping for the night and no one in the caravan had an argument with that.</p><p> </p><p> The light of the sun had turned the evening sky to its hues of orange and gold and purple clouds as it sank and the evening shadows extended further and deepened. Kudjik breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at Alaria as they came around a section of trees to see the road before them veer sharply to the north. “You see, Miss Mage. We will camp safely tonight after all. Just a bit more.”</p><p> </p><p> Alaria smiled politely back at the dark-tan merchant. Then her smile sharply inverted at the sound of shrieking that came from behind and to their right.</p><p> </p><p> The lumbering shapes spewing from the darkening fog were hunched as they charged and seemed to have very long arms and large clawed hands. Their noses, Alaria also noted, seemed unnaturally large for their form. But from her distance, she could not make out much more about them. They snarled and shouted garbled cries as they charged toward the middle and rear of the caravan.</p><p> </p><p> Coerraine expertly swung his mount around at a gallop to place himself between the hulking figures that seemed to appear out of the very dark gloom of the swamp.</p><p> </p><p> Alaria heard Duor’s voice boom clearly above the frightened screams of refugees and the snarling shouts of their attackers.</p><p></p><p>“Trolls!” he said.</p><p> </p><p> Kudjik shouted something to his men in his native tongue and the Thelitian guards moved to intercept the creatures while Kudjik and the other wagon driver snapped their reigns and called to their animals to move the wagons as quickly as possible. </p><p></p><p>Alaria jumped down from the driver seat, none too gracefully, and muttered a curse to the merchant’s cowardice. But after all, she reminded herself, we <em>are </em>supposed to be the caravan’s protectors.</p><p> </p><p> Braddok had lowered Haelan to the ground and kicked his mount into a gallop to catch up with Coerraine, his sword singing from its sheathe as he went.</p><p> </p><p> Alaria saw no sign of the gnome or Fen, but there was really no time to worry about that now. </p><p></p><p> “Go! Go!” she yelled at the refugees to snap them out of their frozen daze of fear. Then she heard Fen doing the same and saw the druid a dozen or so people behind her.</p><p> </p><p> Trolls…trolls….Alaria’s mind raced through her studies. Strong. Savagely hungry. Nearly mindless, compared to other humanoids. Resistant to harm? But why? What was it? What was their weakness? Everything has a weakness...What could she do to them…and maybe more importantly, what could they do to her?</p><p> </p><p> As if to answer her mind, Alaria heard Fen’s voice calling her above the charging trolls, the fleeing people, the frightened animals, she even thought she heard Haelan’s voice rising in prayer somewhere in the cacophony.</p><p></p><p>But Fen was closer and his voice was clear, “Fire! Alaria, trolls are highly susceptible to fire!”</p><p> </p><p> At that, the carrot-topped half-elf spun his sacred spear over his head as his lips began forming the words of the secret tongue of the druids.</p><p></p><p>As he finished his conjuring, a small ball of orange flame burst into being at the tip of his spear. Fen brought the twirling spear to an abrupt halt and pointed the tip toward their attackers. The ball of flame flew forward and caught one of the trolls in the arm.</p><p></p><p>The creature howled in pain but kept advancing, waving his burning arm (which served to fan the flames) as he ran.</p><p> </p><p> Another howl rose further back in the line and Alaria saw the tell-tale silver sparks as troll fists and claws pounded and scratched at the barrier of Haelan’s spell of Sanctuary. The Halfling priest had surrounded himself and two children in the protective field, but Alaria new from experience, the spell would not last long.</p><p> </p><p> Coerraine was doing considerable damage with his spear from horseback to the heinous creatures. The paladin did not even mind when Duor, after placing a bolt from his handcrossbow into one of the troll’s eyes, leapt from the back of their horse to backstab another of them.</p><p> </p><p> Braddok moved through the creatures with practiced skill, despite their grasping claws. He swung his blade and turned his mount to continue to try to keep the creatures from getting too near the actual caravan. The swordsman noted, however, that for ever hack and slash he made that seemed to be heavy, the creatures simply did not seem to falter.</p><p></p><p> Kudjik’s guards stood poised between the caravan and the trolls but did not move to engage. Jarood did, however, instruct the archers to fire. Alaria thought this a bad idea, but found herself both shocked and impressed when the desert men’s arrows found their targets with ease.</p><p> </p><p> Alaria also noted the man in the chainmail vest who Braddok had mentioned was joining the fight with a longsword that gleamed in the evening sun, despite the deepening shadows and gloom of the swamp. He had taken to occupy the troll pounding at Haelan’s barrier to allow the halfling to get the children off and away (cancelling his spell) with the last of the fleeing refugees. </p><p> </p><p> Halean thanked the fighting-man profusely as he swung his pineconed-headed mace into the great sickly green creature’s shins. Whether he heard the thanks of not, Haelan did not know as the troll’s next swipe with black stone-hard claws struck the man squarely across the chest and sent him flying to land on his back with a thud.</p><p> </p><p> Coerraine was grabbed from his horse and thrown to the ground by one troll while the other sank its teeth into his mount. Coerraine was on his feet in an instant, spear raised, and summoned up the might of faith and devotion. The Redstar Knight’s blond hair seemed to shine with a golden halo as he bellowed his invocation to Celradorn to guide his hand and smite the evil before him. The spear, indeed, shone with a golden light of its own and sank deep into the troll’s chest.</p><p> </p><p> The troll howled in rage or pain and grasped Coerraine by the neck.</p><p> </p><p> Alaria was at a loss. She had to do something before Coerraine’s head popped off like a squashed grape, but she had not studied anything to summon fire in her arcane arsenal that day.</p><p></p><p>She closed her eyes as she gathered her mind and power. The R'Hathi wizardess raised her hands toward the Mostralian paladin and began one of her other incantations. The air swirled around her causing her robe and hair to flutter in an unfelt wind.</p><p> </p><p> <em>“Cirenbyr Beliviara”<mage spell: Enlarge></em> Alaria’s eyes snapped open, directly on Coerraine, as if there was nothing else in her line of sight. As Coerraine’s image began to get larger, Alaria concentrated until she knew she could not force the power of the spell any further. Her arms lowered to her sides and the rest of the scene, around Coerraine, came into focus for her once again. Coerraine now stood a full head taller than the troll who had been gripping his neck. </p><p> </p><p> The troll took a surprised step back from the giantish paladin who simply smiled broadly as he jabbed his, also giant, spear into the widemouthed creature again. With a heave of his spear, he hoisted the skewered troll up and threw it into the troll that was dining on his (now very dead) horse. Then he skewered them together. Both creatures shrieked in pain and alarm. But even as it seemed the first troll perished, the wounds began closing.</p><p> </p><p> <em>“Imberil nossos REX!” <mage/illusionist spell: Chromatic Orb - Fire></em> Gnobert’s small voice proclaimed from somewhere out of Alaria’s vision and an orb of bright red flew into the two trolls-on-a-stick being held down by Coerraine. When the ball struck it burst into flames and after a few moments, the two trolls stopped writhing.</p><p> </p><p> “Coerraine! Braddok! A little aid, please!” Haelan called through the din. He was doing his best to damage his troll and his stature was of great help in evading the troll’s sweeping claws. But he was landing very few blows and what damage he thought he’d done seemed to not bother the troll at all after a moment or two.</p><p> </p><p> By now, Braddok had also been unhorsed but was holding his own against two more of the creatures. On hearing Haelan’s plea, the swordsman took a final swing at the more wounded of the two and dropped it before breaking off from the second to move to Haelan’s position.</p><p> </p><p> Fen moved into position behind the troll Braddok had left and with a stab of his spear and near-silent cryptic phrase, another ball of flame burst upon the wounded but still standing creature.</p><p> </p><p> Duor appeared next to Fen, gliding seamlessly from the shadows of the evening to sink his green glowing dagger into the slimey green hide of the troll Fen had struck, which brought it down. Then he made a few stabs at the one Braddok had just dropped.</p><p> </p><p> “He’s already dead, Duor. Is that really necessary?” Fen said.</p><p> </p><p>“Thought yeh already knew this a bit o’ ancient dwarven wisdom, half-blood?” Duor pulled a flask of lamp oil from his pack and quickly doused it all over both trolls' bodies.</p><p></p><p>“The only <em>dead</em> troll…” Duor pulled out his striking flint and steel and lit the oil which immediately swathed the trolls' carcasses in fire, “…is a <em>burnt</em> troll.”</p><p> </p><p> Coerraine also heard Haelan’s cry for help and as the enlarging spell was tapering off, he made the final blow against the creature, knocking it off its grotesque large feet. Duor trotted over with a torch lit from his oil-bathed trolls and set the unconscious creature on fire even as its wounds began to seal.</p><p> </p><p> Where the sixth troll was, the one Fen had first set ablaze, Alaria neither knew nor cared. The fight was over. The caravan had all made it passed them and around the bend to the north. No doubt they were still flying as fast as they could.</p><p> </p><p> Alaria turned and leaned on her staff to stare at Jarood and his men. “Thanks a lot.” she said with all intended sarcasm.</p><p> </p><p> Jarood just looked down at her (he was quite tall) with a dispassionate scowl and snorted. With a short command in his native tongue, he and the other Thelitian guards began to follow the caravan at a trot.</p><p> </p><p> Haelan healed the man in the chainmail vest (who they finally discover is named “Maracus”) and Braddok and Coerraine who both sustained a substantial pounding from troll fists.</p><p></p><p>With everyone feeling more or less healthy, the party (much more slowly than the Thelitians as Braddok was the only one with a mount at this point) also continue up the road, happy to leave any view of the Feldmere behind.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="steeldragons, post: 5666092, member: 92511"] [U][I][B]2 Days Earlier[/B][/I][/U] The night went by quietly. Not surprising since the group was still within the lands considered to be part of the Laklans. By mid-morning, the neatly ordered fields and orchards became more natural looking and unkempt. They crossed several brooks and tributaries, some leading to Lake Imerlis and some finding their way to the D’Evand. One such crossing, a humped wooden bridge sported a wooden post with simple pointed signs. One said “Mill Road” and pointed to little more than a path that led upstream. Another said “the Downs” and pointed back the way they’d come. A third slab of wood said “Dragons” and pointed down the road in the direction they wanted to go. This was more than a bit disconcerting for Haelan, but he was assured by one of the locals traveling with them that it really meant “the Dragonmage.” This put the Halfling priest at some ease, trusting the simple farmer until he added, “Cuz, ya know the Dragonmage has a buncha them.” Again, Haelan’s stomach twisted into knots. Shortly after crossing a very old looking stone bridge, the wagon train came to a “namestone.” It was common in the days of the Selurian Empire to place these six foot pillars of white rock at the borders between regions or at particularly important or well-traveled crossroads. Grasses and weeds grew up to conceal the bottom two feet of the pillar. In the centuries since the Godswar, the white marble had been weathered to a point that none of the original writing could be seen though a bit of ornamentation, twining vines and leaves mostly, could still be gleaned around the borders where writing would have been. The pillar had been painted at some point in the decades since with place names in the Common tongue. Near the top, it said “You are leaving the Lake Lands. The gods keep you.” Below that was the word, “Thornfeld” and “the Feldmere” beneath which an arrow pointed to the southwest. At eye level for Duor, on the opposite side of the namestone, the pillar sported the word “Daenfrii” with an arrow pointing them north and then “Welford” with an arrow indicating one to continue along the road and “Feldmere” with an arrow pointing south. “Nice to see someone’s keepin’ up on these things.” Duor remarked. Coerraine agreed. “But what is the Feldmere?” Again, one of the refugees enlightened the party, the middling-aged man with the chainmail vest. “The Feldmere is a cursed swamp filled with all manner of evil. It’s said there was a great battle at Thornfeld in the time of the Scourge Wars and somehow the swamp is connected that way. But I don’t really know ‘bout all o’ that. Lotsa ghost stories for the campfire ‘bout the Feldmere, though.” Braddok and Coerraine looked at one another uneasily. The man continued, “It extends for miles to the south and west before the Orean Plains. If’n I’m not mistaken, this path leads us close to its edge before we turn north to Daenfrii.” He leaned in towards the obviously rattled Haelan, who sat tucked in front of Braddok astride one of Kudjik’s horses. “[I]Daaaangerously[/I] close.” Then he chuckled. “You seem to know these parts pretty well. Comfortable with a sword too.” Braddok observed and gave a nod at the scabbard on the man’s belt. The man smiled half-heartedly. “Well, I weren’t a farmer all my life…if that’s what you’re getting’ at. But that’ll be a story for another time.” At that, he slowed his pace to drop back to the cart coming up behind them (the one that had the goats tied to the back). He stared warmly up at the woman and young girl in the driver’s seat of the cart then absently turned and peered towards the north. Braddok nudged his mount forward to catch up with Alaria on the lead wagon (she had honored the merchant’s invitation to ride with him that morning. The wizard did not at all miss time in a saddle.) Coerraine, who had Duor on the back of the horse he rode (the paladin was taking his assignment of watching the dwarf rogue quite seriously, to Duor’s displeasure), also came forward and the companions looked out to the south and west. Kudjik brought the wagon to a halt at the crest of a low hill and whistled. They all looked out toward the south at the expanse of marshlands that extended before them. A gloomy mist hovered above the whole swamp, even in the height of midday. Some clumps of twisted trees spotted the terrain here and there, but on the whole the vegetation and mist produced a wide flat stretch of dull greys and murky greens. “Huh. So that’s the Feldmere.” Said Fen offhandedly. The druid had been happy to travel on foot and broke from his easy-going banter with the various refugees to join his companions. Gnobert, astride Buttercream snaked their way to the front of the train to find out why they’d stopped. He also whistled a long tone that dropped off. “Good thing we’re not going there, eh my friends?” Kudjik smiled broadly in an attempt at humor. Braddok noted the farmer with the chainmail vest had been correct as the road did wind down through the ever-flatter landscape and seemed to pass not far from the edge of the fog that covered the Feldmere. “We’re going close enough.” Answered Haelan with no humor in his voice at all. It was nearly five hours since the caravan had passed the namestone. The foggy wetlands had been silent and forboding to their south for more than two of those hours. As the sun began dipping towards the west, and late afternoon slipped into evening, the swamp seemed to take on a darker more ominous presence. North of the road, small rolling hills and clumps of thick woods still dotted the landscape, but the woods and hills were getting fewer and farther between, filled in with stretches of high grasses. Kudjik very much wanted to get the caravan passed view of the swamp before stopping for the night and no one in the caravan had an argument with that. The light of the sun had turned the evening sky to its hues of orange and gold and purple clouds as it sank and the evening shadows extended further and deepened. Kudjik breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at Alaria as they came around a section of trees to see the road before them veer sharply to the north. “You see, Miss Mage. We will camp safely tonight after all. Just a bit more.” Alaria smiled politely back at the dark-tan merchant. Then her smile sharply inverted at the sound of shrieking that came from behind and to their right. The lumbering shapes spewing from the darkening fog were hunched as they charged and seemed to have very long arms and large clawed hands. Their noses, Alaria also noted, seemed unnaturally large for their form. But from her distance, she could not make out much more about them. They snarled and shouted garbled cries as they charged toward the middle and rear of the caravan. Coerraine expertly swung his mount around at a gallop to place himself between the hulking figures that seemed to appear out of the very dark gloom of the swamp. Alaria heard Duor’s voice boom clearly above the frightened screams of refugees and the snarling shouts of their attackers. “Trolls!” he said. Kudjik shouted something to his men in his native tongue and the Thelitian guards moved to intercept the creatures while Kudjik and the other wagon driver snapped their reigns and called to their animals to move the wagons as quickly as possible. Alaria jumped down from the driver seat, none too gracefully, and muttered a curse to the merchant’s cowardice. But after all, she reminded herself, we [I]are [/I]supposed to be the caravan’s protectors. Braddok had lowered Haelan to the ground and kicked his mount into a gallop to catch up with Coerraine, his sword singing from its sheathe as he went. Alaria saw no sign of the gnome or Fen, but there was really no time to worry about that now. “Go! Go!” she yelled at the refugees to snap them out of their frozen daze of fear. Then she heard Fen doing the same and saw the druid a dozen or so people behind her. Trolls…trolls….Alaria’s mind raced through her studies. Strong. Savagely hungry. Nearly mindless, compared to other humanoids. Resistant to harm? But why? What was it? What was their weakness? Everything has a weakness...What could she do to them…and maybe more importantly, what could they do to her? As if to answer her mind, Alaria heard Fen’s voice calling her above the charging trolls, the fleeing people, the frightened animals, she even thought she heard Haelan’s voice rising in prayer somewhere in the cacophony. But Fen was closer and his voice was clear, “Fire! Alaria, trolls are highly susceptible to fire!” At that, the carrot-topped half-elf spun his sacred spear over his head as his lips began forming the words of the secret tongue of the druids. As he finished his conjuring, a small ball of orange flame burst into being at the tip of his spear. Fen brought the twirling spear to an abrupt halt and pointed the tip toward their attackers. The ball of flame flew forward and caught one of the trolls in the arm. The creature howled in pain but kept advancing, waving his burning arm (which served to fan the flames) as he ran. Another howl rose further back in the line and Alaria saw the tell-tale silver sparks as troll fists and claws pounded and scratched at the barrier of Haelan’s spell of Sanctuary. The Halfling priest had surrounded himself and two children in the protective field, but Alaria new from experience, the spell would not last long. Coerraine was doing considerable damage with his spear from horseback to the heinous creatures. The paladin did not even mind when Duor, after placing a bolt from his handcrossbow into one of the troll’s eyes, leapt from the back of their horse to backstab another of them. Braddok moved through the creatures with practiced skill, despite their grasping claws. He swung his blade and turned his mount to continue to try to keep the creatures from getting too near the actual caravan. The swordsman noted, however, that for ever hack and slash he made that seemed to be heavy, the creatures simply did not seem to falter. Kudjik’s guards stood poised between the caravan and the trolls but did not move to engage. Jarood did, however, instruct the archers to fire. Alaria thought this a bad idea, but found herself both shocked and impressed when the desert men’s arrows found their targets with ease. Alaria also noted the man in the chainmail vest who Braddok had mentioned was joining the fight with a longsword that gleamed in the evening sun, despite the deepening shadows and gloom of the swamp. He had taken to occupy the troll pounding at Haelan’s barrier to allow the halfling to get the children off and away (cancelling his spell) with the last of the fleeing refugees. Halean thanked the fighting-man profusely as he swung his pineconed-headed mace into the great sickly green creature’s shins. Whether he heard the thanks of not, Haelan did not know as the troll’s next swipe with black stone-hard claws struck the man squarely across the chest and sent him flying to land on his back with a thud. Coerraine was grabbed from his horse and thrown to the ground by one troll while the other sank its teeth into his mount. Coerraine was on his feet in an instant, spear raised, and summoned up the might of faith and devotion. The Redstar Knight’s blond hair seemed to shine with a golden halo as he bellowed his invocation to Celradorn to guide his hand and smite the evil before him. The spear, indeed, shone with a golden light of its own and sank deep into the troll’s chest. The troll howled in rage or pain and grasped Coerraine by the neck. Alaria was at a loss. She had to do something before Coerraine’s head popped off like a squashed grape, but she had not studied anything to summon fire in her arcane arsenal that day. She closed her eyes as she gathered her mind and power. The R'Hathi wizardess raised her hands toward the Mostralian paladin and began one of her other incantations. The air swirled around her causing her robe and hair to flutter in an unfelt wind. [I]“Cirenbyr Beliviara”<mage spell: Enlarge>[/I] Alaria’s eyes snapped open, directly on Coerraine, as if there was nothing else in her line of sight. As Coerraine’s image began to get larger, Alaria concentrated until she knew she could not force the power of the spell any further. Her arms lowered to her sides and the rest of the scene, around Coerraine, came into focus for her once again. Coerraine now stood a full head taller than the troll who had been gripping his neck. The troll took a surprised step back from the giantish paladin who simply smiled broadly as he jabbed his, also giant, spear into the widemouthed creature again. With a heave of his spear, he hoisted the skewered troll up and threw it into the troll that was dining on his (now very dead) horse. Then he skewered them together. Both creatures shrieked in pain and alarm. But even as it seemed the first troll perished, the wounds began closing. [I]“Imberil nossos REX!” <mage/illusionist spell: Chromatic Orb - Fire>[/I] Gnobert’s small voice proclaimed from somewhere out of Alaria’s vision and an orb of bright red flew into the two trolls-on-a-stick being held down by Coerraine. When the ball struck it burst into flames and after a few moments, the two trolls stopped writhing. “Coerraine! Braddok! A little aid, please!” Haelan called through the din. He was doing his best to damage his troll and his stature was of great help in evading the troll’s sweeping claws. But he was landing very few blows and what damage he thought he’d done seemed to not bother the troll at all after a moment or two. By now, Braddok had also been unhorsed but was holding his own against two more of the creatures. On hearing Haelan’s plea, the swordsman took a final swing at the more wounded of the two and dropped it before breaking off from the second to move to Haelan’s position. Fen moved into position behind the troll Braddok had left and with a stab of his spear and near-silent cryptic phrase, another ball of flame burst upon the wounded but still standing creature. Duor appeared next to Fen, gliding seamlessly from the shadows of the evening to sink his green glowing dagger into the slimey green hide of the troll Fen had struck, which brought it down. Then he made a few stabs at the one Braddok had just dropped. “He’s already dead, Duor. Is that really necessary?” Fen said. “Thought yeh already knew this a bit o’ ancient dwarven wisdom, half-blood?” Duor pulled a flask of lamp oil from his pack and quickly doused it all over both trolls' bodies. “The only [I]dead[/I] troll…” Duor pulled out his striking flint and steel and lit the oil which immediately swathed the trolls' carcasses in fire, “…is a [I]burnt[/I] troll.” Coerraine also heard Haelan’s cry for help and as the enlarging spell was tapering off, he made the final blow against the creature, knocking it off its grotesque large feet. Duor trotted over with a torch lit from his oil-bathed trolls and set the unconscious creature on fire even as its wounds began to seal. Where the sixth troll was, the one Fen had first set ablaze, Alaria neither knew nor cared. The fight was over. The caravan had all made it passed them and around the bend to the north. No doubt they were still flying as fast as they could. Alaria turned and leaned on her staff to stare at Jarood and his men. “Thanks a lot.” she said with all intended sarcasm. Jarood just looked down at her (he was quite tall) with a dispassionate scowl and snorted. With a short command in his native tongue, he and the other Thelitian guards began to follow the caravan at a trot. Haelan healed the man in the chainmail vest (who they finally discover is named “Maracus”) and Braddok and Coerraine who both sustained a substantial pounding from troll fists. With everyone feeling more or less healthy, the party (much more slowly than the Thelitians as Braddok was the only one with a mount at this point) also continue up the road, happy to leave any view of the Feldmere behind. [/QUOTE]
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