39-My can of whup-ass says 'haste' on it.
The group spends several days at the elven camp, preparing themselves for the journey ahead, and relaxing with the clan. Taran spends most of his time in the company of a young, beautiful elf, much to the delight of Juron and Glim, who tease him unmercifully.
For all his battle prowess, Taran is still a young man, and that is never more evident than when he blushingly stammers a half-hearted explanation of where he has spent his morning.
"Hey, lookit," Juron says. "It's Taran Tar Ilou, the famous adventurer. You been out exploring you some drow caves, killer?" Juron says.
"Been wrestling a dragon, have you?" Glim chimes in. "Taming the downy tiger?"
"The fearless conqueror," Juron says, as both men laugh.
"Aw, hell, you guys . . . I've been learning local plant lore," Taran mutters.
"Yeah, I bet you have!" Glim laughs.
"Have you learned which plants not to roll around in, yet?" Juron asks.
"I bet he got poison oak on his snake," Glim says.
"Yeah, Taran. Did you show her your familiar?"
But the group cannot stay in the village for long, and after a few days of sunshine, fresh air and hearty food, the group is ready to approach the lair of the fire giants.
During their journey Taran and Stinky's relationship, tenuous to begin with, deteriorates in proportion with Juron and Glim's teasing. Taran berates Stinky for every failure, real or imagined, and the two almost come to blows on several occasions.
During one of their arguments, Taran is chastising Stinky for what he calls "damned lazy pathfinding", when Stinky turns and runs away from Taran at top speed. Taran starts to protest, but when he sees Thelbar reaching into his spell-component satchel and Juron and Glim drawing weapons, he turns and notices what they are reacting to: the heads of four surprised fire giants loom over the tree-line, looking down on the human heroes.
"In the name of Kovas, Ravager of the North" one of them bellows, "I sentence you to . . ."
He was probably going to say "death", but Thelbar's feeblemind spell cut his sentence short, and instead of threats, a long string of fire-giant drool runs down his chin.
The three fighters target a second giant with a volley of missile fire, their arrows coated with drow poison (liberated from Undermountain), which takes almost instant effect, causing the giant to double over, then drift into a noisy sleep.
The two remaining giants fling rocks at Thelbar, but fortunately, their stones cannot pierce his protection from arrows effect, and as Thel gets up from where he was knocked prone, Taran charges the nearest giant at full speed, howling wildly.
The giant swipes at Taran with his huge greatsword, and nearly cuts the young fighter in two, but Taran responds with a devastating blow of his own-striking the giant and severing tendons in the hip, hobbling it. But Taran's exultant cry is cut short as the giant counterattacks, and strikes Taran such a powerful blow that the pugnacious youth is lifted off his feet, and sent flying backwards into the upper branches of a nearby tree!
The second giant charges Thelbar, overrunning Juron and Glim, only to run headlong into a color spray, which dazes the brute long enough for a second chain lightning to arc from giant to giant, singing their skin and producing a unique odor reminiscent of Baklunish cooking.
The stunned and singed giant stumbles backwards, directly under the branch that Taran is lying on. Taran leaps from the tree, and buries his sword into the giant's neck, ending its life.
A second feeblemind renders the last active giant into a simple-minded state, and both feebleminded giants converge on their sleeping friend, wanting to run, but reluctant to leave him.
Their misplaced loyalty soon becomes their last act, as the group fires volley after volley of arrows into the remaining giants, slowly wearing them down until all four giants lie dead.
"Oh, sh-t," Taran says and passes out from his wounds.
After receiving healing from Thelbar, Taran retakes his feet, just as Stinky is slowly returning to the battle ground. Taran favors the malodorous scout with a rare grin, and tussles Stinky's hair.
"You see," Taran says. "We're going to be just fine." He puts his hands on his hips and looks around, taking in a deep breath of the mountain air. "We must be close to their lair."
Stinky leads the group for the remainder of the afternoon, helping them navigate a treacherous mountain-face until they were within sight of a large cave, some thirty feet in width, and arcing to a height of twelve feet at its apex. The cave opening itself spills out onto a narrow lip abutting a steep cliff-face.
As Thelbar counts platinum coins into Stinky's grubby hands, Taran and Glim examine the cave opening, and debate the best possible angle for approach. Stinky stands near the arguing duo for a few minutes, with his coin purse still in his hands, waiting for a goodbye. But after a few moments, when it becomes apparent that none is forthcoming, Stinky turns and disappears into the surrounding woods.
--------------------
While Thelbar inventories his remaining spells and material components, the three fighters decide on a means to access the cave-Taran will fly into the cave mouth, and as stealthily as possible set ropes for an assisted climb of the cliff face. Ideally, they will not need to use these lines as a retreat, but in such a case, Juron helps Taran rig the lines for a free-falling rappel, should Thelbar and his teleport (the party's exit-strategy du jour), fall in battle.
Just inside the cave opening, the passage is revealed as a worked hallway, some twenty feet in width, and thirty feet high. The group is taking stock of this environment, and preparing themselves for a lightless dungeon crawl when a pack of heavily armored trolls break out of side passages, and charge the group!
Taran, Juron and Glim lay into their foes, and Thelbar unleashes a chain lightning that puts the rubbery giants onto their heels. After a few pleasantries are exchanged, all the trolls lie in pieces, and the sounds of their battle can be heard echoing down the long corridor. From far away, the sounds of yelling in giantish and the loud tang of metal on metal drifts back toward the party. The fighters hastily gather the troll corpses, and immolate them with alchemical flame.
Thelbar pours wine from his skin into the basin of Taran's shield, and scrys the fire giant king. A misty scene appears on the surface of the water-a huge throne room hollowed from the living rock is occupied by a round score of fire giants and trolls scurrying into defensive positions facing the wide corridor that enters the room opposite the throne. One giant in particular seems to be in charge. A large beast, even by giantish standards, his thick black beard is woven with fineries, and his ruddy reddish skin turns purple as he shouts commands. King Kovas, the Fire Tyrant, Ravager of the North.
"Well?" Taran asks.
"He is near. It is his voice that we hear." Thelbar says.
"And how does he seem?"
"He doesn't even look concerned."
Taran pauses and rubs his beard, grinning through his hand. "Perfect."
