Eoghan cast his spell in a low rumble, and little Cordit grew and twisted until she was an enormous ape - equal in size to any hill giant, and more muscled. She laughed, and it came out a deep hollow cough.
The hallway that led to the forge was sized for giants, and she lumbered down it, knuckling the ground. The group that was to assault the forge followed, preparing themselves for violence.
In the north, near the western cellblock, Tamanar took one last look at the cell that he had spent four years in. If it weren't for the patience of the elves, he'd have gone mad. He lifted his shield, liberated off of a bugbear corpse, and waited grimly for the regular beat of the smith's hammer to stop, the signal that the others had engaged the forge.
Zandor lingered in the hallway in front of his cell. He and Olwen had been instructed to hold back, and the merchant had a plan: if the assault went badly, he would move back into his cell and pretend to be sleeping. Though he had been there for a fraction of the time that Tamanar had, his mind was not as strong. Olwen stood by. The old man tried to reassure the frightened merchant, but it was no use.
OOC:
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Any other last-minute preparations?
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