The village was scared, that much Grimmyr could sense. While by now he was used to many of the peoples of Golarion being intimidated by his towering form, this fear had nothing to do with him. It had clearly seeped into the community long before he arrived. The faces of the townsfolk were pale and tired. Their movements were slow and languid, as if a heavy weight pressed down upon them. It even seemed to affect the atmosphere—dark clouds gathered overhead, and the flowers ringing the small stone plinth at the center of the village green were wilted and dying. Grimmyr’s heart ached to see such distress.

It was with supreme regret that Ulka concluded the younger Blackjackets were looking at her with admiration. Not a revelation she wanted to have on the battlefield, especially while splattered with ghoul blood. She grimaced and wiped the flecks of crimson sludge off her arm, tinting streaks of her green skin black. The length of her polearm usually kept the mess at bay, but these rotbags were full of more fluids than she was used to, and they tended to burst.

“So the shiny runes are… the reflection on the water?”

 “Can you at least tell me what it does?”

"Ready to keep going? Break time’s done.” Kyra straightened from her meditative stance in the darkened, deadened grass.

"And then he walked face-first into a swarm of mosquitos, just like that!” Lini chuckled. “I remember the first time I did that, so many years ago! It nearly scared the life out of me. He’s fine, though; just rattled from the experience.”