As the others begin to close in, Liamae is able to touch the scrag’s mind, clouding it’s senses and cognitions. It reels for a moment, suddenly staggered by the attack.
Dazzled and staggered, it stumbles a step back, trying to clear its mind. It then lets out an intimidating roar, scrag spittle splats across Fenchurch’s face with ferocity.
Being already badly hurt, she is shaken to the bone.
Moira 5ft-steps closer, then lashes out with her longsword...
Túrante jumps down from the dam with the aim of slicing the scrag, but she lands badly and falls prone.
Selja hurries forward and ends up beside Fenchurch!
Crunch! Túrante takes a hit as she moves in to strike, cutting the scrag in return.
Seeing Moira and Túrante move in and Selja run up to her side, Fench takes a moment to retrieve and down a potion.
It seems to have reached its expiration date.
Liamae expends the last of the mental focus in her gloves to launch another ray of flame at the scrag!
Liamae scorches the scrag, stopping its regeneration temporarily. It shakes its head clear and focuses its attacks on the biggest threat, Fenchurch.
Although it looks like Fenchurch should fall at any moment, she stands on her feet.
Moira swings again, and again, if she hits, she uncorks a Chill Touch.
She keeps singing her warlike song, hoping it inspires her friends to kill this rather dangerous scrag...
Selja tries to slash at the remaining foe!
;
Moira cuts across the scrag and it howls as a layer of frost crystalizes from within the wound.
Selja brings her glaive down, and the scrag's knees buckle. It seems to be on the brink of falling.
Túrante darts in to try to put down the scrag, but misses.
Liamae hazards moving closer to the scrag, casting a spell and sending a cone of flames from her hands!
There’s very little Fench can do from where she stands, so she takes a step back and draws another potion from her belt, putting her faith in new found friends to keep her safe.
The scrag howls again as a gout of flames engulfs it, the pain from accumulated wounds is finally too much to bear. It falls with a splash into the edge of the pond. Singed flesh is only momentarily kept from regenerating anew.
"We gotta drag it out and burn it again... I have Alchemist's Fire."
But first,
"You can really take a punch, can't you, Fench?"
Túrante drives her blade into the fallen troll as hard as she can.
Selja moves to drag the troll out of the water!
Fench downs her potion, which, combined with Moira’s wand, at least helps her to regain some composure.
"I’d rather not take a hit, but I will if I have to. Thanks for the help," she probably says.
She and Selja drag the large body onto dry land before Túrante finishes it off for good.
Moira morbidly looks on as they put the scrag to bed for good. She wonders aloud, "Hypothetically speaking, could we keep its head, dry it out, and have a 'just add water' troll on hand? Like, toss it in a washbasin in an out-of-the-way corner and before long, a whole troll starts trolling? I could see it being useful as a diversion at a high-class party."
She shrugs, "Not that I'm advocating for it. I'm going to take a break from bringing home monsters after Slenderbill."
She looks sadly at the witchcrow, down in its muss of feathers and blood. She wanders down to Slender, takes one long black plume and tucks it in her hatband. "We barely knew thee, Slenderbill."
"Onward? Or should we get some rest?"
Liamae finds some place to sit heavily once the fighting is done. "I'm about tapped out for the day," the elf laments. "If we come across another challenge like this one, I won't be able to contribute much. Plus, we are all injured. I feel a proper rest is in order, don't you, darling?"
With the enemies good and dead, Selja prays to Shelyn and calls for healing.
"Used up a lot o' my tricks. We could travel a bit but I'd keep an eye out for a quiet, safe place ta rest."
Moira tries to look useful.
The results are unconvincing.
"I grew up in the country, but that doesn't mean I grew up in the woods." She shrugs.
.
Selja helps Fench in finding a safe spot, though Fench is clearly the expert here.
You decide to find a safe place to rest somewhere in the woods to the of the creek. Fenchurch leads the way, telling Moira "I'm at home in these woods." Selja too, has some experience in these parts, having lived in nearby Belhaim.
The elevation rises slightly as you hike out of the creek valley, and the way is thick with heavy underbrush. However, Fenchurch seems unaffected and undeterred, while the rest of the group struggles to keep up. The underbrush eventually clears as you make your way into the old growth forest. Giant darkwood oaks tower over head, sparse light filtering through the dense canopy.
Fenchurch and Selja find their way to some high ground, looking for a defensible position. There they find the scattered remains of what appears to be the ruins of an ancient structure. The last moss covered remnants of stone walls create the bare minimum of shelter. Looks as good a place as any.
After scouting the ruined structure and discussing watch shifts with the party, Moira either 1. examines the sinister signs of danger in the ruins 2. sits on sentry duty or 3. unrolls her bedroll and passes out.
Before sleeping, she reloads a fresh Chill Touch into her blade.
The half-orc marvels at the natural beauty of the ruins nestled within the darkwood oaks. "Very nice, wonder who might've made somethin' like this."
Selja decides she needs to paint this natural beauty before it gets too dark, and does so after helping to set up their cooking space. She adds a fictional building, imagining what the place might've looked like in times past.
"Hope the trail doesn't go cold with restin', but there's no simpler path than 'follow the creek.'"
Túrante collects fallen wood to make a small fire pit raised on stones, and then eats some cold trail rations. She lets out a sigh.
"That was rough," she opines as she pokes at the fire. "Let's get some smoke going to drive off mosquitos and see if we can relax a bit for the afternoon."
After the group unloads and unwinds a bit around a small fire, Selja surveys the area for a good vantage point and sets up for a little bit of en plein air painting. She starts with a rough outline of the remaining ruined foundations and from there, she is moved by some sudden spark of, let's say divine, inspiration. She paints in the walls and roof of a temple structure, with coiling motifs and scaled details. Suddenly, her imagination goes wild and she depicts the underlying hill as a stepped pyramidal structure beneath the temple, long overgrown and buried by the relentless reclamation of the forest.
Returning to the group, she takes a look about the crumbling walls once again and finds that what at first appeared to be a simple depression in the ground is actually a minor cave in. At the bottom, a small hole or burrow, just big enough to crawl through, leads underground.
The evening is calm and uneventful. The air is slightly chilly in the early Spring, but kept relatively stable under the thick canopy of trees. A gentle breeze helps to dissipate the smoke a bit, and there is plenty of fuel available to keep the fire going. Nothing stirs in the forest save for some normal sized vermin, birds and squirrels. As the sun begins to set, the usual chorus of chirping, whirring, singing bugs, frogs, and birds fills the air, announcing the coming of night.
Moira most definitely uses her Any-Tool to chop logs and move rocks into a big pile over the hole leading into the pyramid.
"Just covering it up for now. I'm all for exploring this pyramid tomorrow. Might be treasures or clues about the Queen in here."
Straws are drawn and watches set, and the group beds down for the night.
During Liamae's watch, she hears a scorching and crackling sound coming from the hole Moira covered with sticks and stones, until the makeshift wall crumbles and collapses. Something is making its way out of the hole.
Selja rather enjoys the stepped pyramid she's drawn, and wonders if there might be some truth to the matter. "Definitely an opportunity!" says the half-orc. She's glad to get some rest after all of their travels and battles.
* * *
Selja rests peacefully, her armor and glaive lying beside her. . . .
Liamae quietly wakes the others. "Hear that? Something is coming! Prepare yourselves," she urges.
Moira rolls out of bed, yawns, stretches, sings an arpeggio, and draws her sword.
Liamae alerts the others while something moves along the forest floor through the darkness towards the dim light of the smoldering campfire.
A disembodied voice hisses out of the darkness "Who dares shut me in my lair, denying me accesss to the night sssky? Is it you slayersss of Szangi, my dear beloved? Have you finally come to finish me off?"
"Hmm... no. It issss not you. You are serventsss of that foul fey sorceresss then. Bah! She has already taken whatsss left from me. Off with you then! Leave my presence! Let me be in peace with my starsssssss."
Selja gets up and grabs her glaive, feeling rather vulnerable without armor and with little left in divine miracles.
.
She interjects immediately when they're challenged. "Woah, woah--we're not allies of that evil witch! What's she taken from you? Maybe we could bring it back."
The disembodied voice seems to break with emotional instability, "Ohhhh! That vile maiden of the dark waterssss! Sssshe tried to bend me to her will, but I resisted her charmsssss. She sssssent her minionsss after me and drove me from my observatory, the chamber I used to sssshare with my dear Szangi. Cruel fate had already taken my love. Those wicked ssssslayers tricked me into betraying my lord, oh!"
After a moment of sobbing, the voice continues, "But you are no match for her. Sssshe has an army, poised to wipe the likesss of you from thisss land. No, I am best off here... resigned to these ruinsss, ohhhhh! Leave me to my misery. Let the starsss above take me, oh!"
Moira, sensing an opportunity to ply her trade speaks in her beautiful singer's voice, "From lowest of the low to highest of the high, and with all respect, I am a professional mourner, and in my experience grief is not something to hoard like gold, but something to share and spread, like love, like seeds... in some cases, like fire. Wouldn't it make more sense to tell us the story of Szangi instead of driving us away? Truly, he sounds like the stuff of legends, and there's a kind of immortality in collective memory, even as in the stars. And who knows? Maybe we can help you get your observatory back."