Unlike perhaps some others, she will half-hide herself nearby. Or at least it kind of seems that way. She is cutely horrible at it and is at the edge of the camp in her top is tan and white with some mud lightly splattered on it from the day--hardly camouflage. She seems to be concealing herself partially behind some reeds and this barrel of ale that is set on a higher rise than her currently. At Munguk's size, he should not have an issue seeing her there if he approaches, nor would it even likely look like she's attempting to hide.
When Ahto calls out, in truth she was kind of hoping they just let Munguk, or whoever it is, go past. It seems that hope is passed and now she is forced into the interaction. After all, they don't know for certain it is Munguk at all. Pelipe is pretty sure though a bug flew into Ahto's mouth at the moment of him croaking out, but regardless, it is still far kinder sounding than most of his guards probably can muster in such an instance.
"Don't be afraid..." she jested with Ahto over his wobbled voice long before Munguck came over. She then will put on her serious face and see what is about to happen.
the giant bellows in a morose yet even louder voice that likely does a finer job of chasing away any nearby game.
The giant violently albeit blindly swings his mighty club at a nearby tree, shattering the boughs and sending a shower of splinters and budding leaves across the clearing. At first it seems like this is an idle act of destruction, but then you suspect that Munguk has actually overlooked Ahto's actual location.
He sways as though drunk or hungover, and he seems gripped by a bit of depression that distracts him from his surroundings.
Indeed, as he scans the clearing and finally spots Ahto, he mutters and mumbles the whole time.
hunting for game, and seeking a mate, in that order.
He's had no luck in any of these endeavors.
Munguk's eyes finally focus upon Ahto. The giant stamps his foot in frustration, but the mention of Elga's name - and thus, the potential for booze - stays his wrath for now.
he demands
Pelipe legitimately laughs and covers her mouth as Ahto is railed against and scolded for yelling. First of all, because his voice went all weird, and secondly because, would not this thing's very footsteps cause all the elk in the region to flee? It's not like they did anything at all.
The scholared mage will translate loosely what the giant is mumbling. In a cute manner, she replies in giant.
The brunette seems to rattle off some very angry-sounding words, but with a kind smile. Perhaps Giant was just a forceful language, but regardless, it was not common. At the end of them, she will gesture toward the edge of their encampment where there is space for him to sit.
Stayven looks up at the giant and speaks in the same rumbling language, ”Munguk, right? How about I help you find some blue wolf berries, and teach you my extra special moonshine recipe?”
Well, so far so good. Katrine opts to remain hidden in a copse of bushes while she watches this play out. Storm is lounging behind a tree a few yards away, looking like a regular wolf resting after a hunt. Hopefully Pelipe and Stayven can get them past Munguk without resorting to a fight. They'll have enough trouble on their hands with the trolls.
Pelipe makes inroads towards winning over the giant's trust, but it is Stayven who seals the deal. The promise of an "extra special moonshine recipe" means that you soon find a very large visitor sitting beside your campfire, eagerly digesting both the proffered recipe and the moonshine provided by Elga.
Munguk is quite talkative when drinking. At first he talks about things you've already heard about: the ruined keep that Althea's band is currently securing, the now-empty lizardfolk village. However, he soon turns the conversation towards the trolls, rambling on in Giant about how they've crammed themselves into an "old dwarf hole" as their lair.
The subject of the trolls soon prompts Munguk to go rummaging through his voluminous bag. He pulls out an array of oddments - throwing stones, mismatched boots of various sizes, a glass jar containing a partially eaten pickled sheep’s head, a gnarled piece of driftwood - before finally finding what he was looking for, at the very bottom.
He produces some manner of very crude map sketched upon the back of a piece of smelly, uncured hide. Rough notes have been scrawled in blue wolfberry juice, but the whole thing is quite difficult to decipher, being the product of a barely literate giant.
"We could use all the help we can get. They are terrorizing everything in this region. I'm sure it's just a matter of time before they hunt everything living in this region, pluck the all of the blue wolf berries for themselves, and probably kill Elga as they did with the lizardfolk. We have to at least make contact with them and if they can't be reasoned with, stop them."
As he pulled out the various supplies, a gentle smile passed over her face. "You know, I've seen Katrine, one of our fine leatherworkers, do wonders with hide. I've you're real nice to her, I bet she'd make something like these you have here, but ones that fit."
When he pulled out the map, she would look it over. It was so crude it was almost too hard for her to understand, but then she noticed a mountain, or hill rather in the distance that seemed familiar to his artistry and then the whole of the map made sense. She had to look at it from his high-standing perspective. Once she had the right mentality, the whole of the map was understood.
"Thank you for this. It should be that way," she would point toward the path that would be easiest for them.
Munguk leaps up excitedly, and maybe it's the moonshine talking, but he eagerly agrees to join you to "stomp" the trolls. Keeping him on your side and focused on the task at hand may take some continued persuasion, as well as the promise of additional alcohol, but for now you have a very large ally ready to set out alongside you.
As they walk, Stayven explains in Giant as slowly and simply as he can, his family's recipe for triple-distilled hooch. Rather than expecting Munguk to really understand it, he banked on it being just complex enough to keep the giant engaged and asking questions.
Pelipe nearly falls on her butt as Munguck rises swiftly. It feels like the whole earth shakes under her. Once she rights herself, she will not lead the way but will point the direction to head. She also looks toward where Katrine is to see if she wants to come out and introduce herself or remain hidden from the giant. If she does come out, Pelipe will explain that she is the leatherworker she mentioned. Perhaps his boots and clothes could be worked on at some point. In any case, they head out toward where the trolls are.
"Is there anything else you can tell us about them? From our tracking, they seem to be resistant to fire. Have you noticed anything about that?"
When they finally do get close, she will go quieter. It wouldn't be like they can hide with a giant with them.
Munguk's company means that proceeding through the Narlmarches by stealth is no longer an option. Of course, by the same token, it means that most beasts and dangers in the forest give your company a wide berth, and your trek is uneventful...or as uneventful as a hike with a moonshine-swilling hill giant can be.
Munguk explains - in his own, colorful way - that the trolls do not possess an inherent resistance to fire. Rather, their leader - the self styled king, Hargulka - has cowed his minions into slathering themselves thickly with mud when launching raids. However, they are only really able to employ this strategy in the regions closer to Tamlyn, where the rivers and lakes provide plenty of mud with which to protect themselves. Since the trolls' lair is in an old "dwarf hole" carved into a big, rocky hill in the forest, they won't have any mud to work with. Besides, idling around their own home, they'd have no reason to slather themselves with mud, anyhow.
Munguk also mentions that the trolls have a number of trollhounds at their disposal. Hargulka's minions also include a rock troll called Kargadd and a bizarre, two-headed troll called Nagrundi.
"I hear his pa was an ettin, while his ma was a troll. Can't say who got the worse end of the partnering," Munguk laughs. Of course, as your giant ally rambles on, you get the sense that he's bitter. From his vague descriptions, Nagrundi seems to be even taller than Munguk.
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"Abadar has granted me the power to create water in times of need," Ahto says, deciding that it is an appropriate time to discuss strategy. "I can wash the mud from them, though most likely only one at a time, given their size. If any of you have fire magic, or happen to be carrying vials of alchemist's fire, target the ones I douse. Once we have taken down as many as we can at range, melee should be more manageable."
After a couple days' march, you find yourselves a stone's throw from the trolls' lair.
The entrance to the abandoned dwarven guard post sits high on a cliff face among forested hills on the side of a rocky hill and is accessible only by a carefully concealed path. Cunningly constructed, the entrance cannot be seen from below. A watchtower disguised as a natural rock outcropping also rises from the top of the hill, giving a good view of the surrounding area. Without Munguk's map and guidance, it would have been exceptionally hard to locate the site.
"It sounds like you would have been a good friend if they had let you in," Pelipe deftly responds. She wondered if Trolls were territorial and had rejected the large giant.
To answer Ahto, she shakes her head.
"I doubt they will have mud on them. If they do, I will use acid to melt it away. It is liquidic anyway and will go through the mud, in theory. But we can definitely employ the tactic if they do happen to have a pile of mud nearby for such instances."
"We would have never found this place without your help Munguk. Thank you. You are amazing at pathfinding."
She would then get her serious face on and would not to Ahto to lead the way inside. She prepares herself by shielding herself with magic.
"I don't have any fire available, unfortunately. The best I can do is fill them full of arrows while Storm helps you in melee." Note to self, buy some alchemist's fire and acid flasks for future troll battles when they return to Tamlyn.
Katrine smiles up at the giant. While his company was not the most pleasant in the world, he was extremely helpful. "Our thanks, Munguk. Enjoy your drinks, and good luck with brewing your own!"
Once they've said their goodbyes to Munguk, the ranger turns to her companions. "I can sneak up and scout the entrance, if you like. Get a better look at what we're up against."
You wait until the sound of Munguk's thundering footsteps have died away into the forest at your back before moving forward to scout out the trolls' lair.
A narrow path winds its way up the hill, a steep cliff face on one side and a sheer drop-off on the other. At the top, the path follows a wide ledge, where the corner of a weathered stone building juts from the side of the hill.
"Storm, stay." The wolfdog gives Katrine sad puppy-dog eyes, but he obediently sits down next to Pelipe as the ranger makes her way toward the trolls' lair.
The dense forest that enshrouds the rugged hills provides Katrine with the familiar cover she needs to better reconnoiter the trolls' stronghold.
The first thing Katrine spots is the concealed watchtower that surmounts the hill, disguised by long-gone dwarven architects to blend into the surrounding rock. A single troll leans against a support beam in the tower, but his attention is fully upon digging at his belly button.
At the end of the path winding up the cliff face, Katrine sees that the walls jutting out of the natural rock are the bastions of a barbican, the first line of defense for the old dwarf hold. No bellowing calls or spears greet her as she creeps closer.
Katrine manages to get close enough to peer through the narrow arrow slits. She espies a pair of trolls who are likely meant to be on guard duty, but instead they are thrashing around in a wrestling match that threatens to topple or rip open the sacks set aside along the walls of the guard post.
There's a single entrance into the guard post from the outside: a stone door that lies upon the ground, wrenched violently from its hinges, thus leaving the stout door jamb wide open.
Pelipe waited nearby. In her patience, she did the best she could to remain quiet. If they could find a way into the castle, at least they could potentially fight those within without the worry of those outside coming in to assault them. After all, from the sounds of things, battle among them was common. She wondered if they would be able to parlay with their commander immediately or if they'd have to attack through all of their forces first.
Hmm, looks promising if everyone else can get in here without being detected. There are a few too many trolls for comfort. Then again, they'll most likely have to fight at some point, and the noise will alert the guards here. It's probably better not to leave live enemies behind them. Katrine nods to herself and stealthily makes her way back to the group to report what she's seen.
"Okay, so the good news is that the guards aren't terribly attentive or disciplined. The bad news is that I could only see the one way in, through the guard post. The dwarves who originally made this hold knew their fortifications."
"They have been attacking the countryside..." Pelipe attempts to justify just attacking without notifying them or trying to reason with them. They did deserve the actions the group is about to engage in. Still, she isn't sure they can handle all of these trolls. "Can we not think of any way to reduce their numbers? Or get them to run away and disorganize?"
”Well, I can be surprisingly stealthy for a mapmaker. Perhaps Katrine and I can creep ahead to find more threats or another possible way in.”
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”If you are willing to do so, and Mistress Thalian is amenable to a team effort, then I have no objection,” Ahto replies to Stayven. ”Mistress Lightdriver is correct,” he adds. ”The trolls and ettins have already proven themselves guilty of murder and marauding. I have little confidence that they will surrender to the law or even show the slightest remorse for their crimes. Therefore, we will all carry out the sentence of death upon them. If any of you are unable to strike the fatal blow, do your best to incapacitate them, and I will complete the execution. But first things first, we will allow our scout team to go forward and return with a more detailed assessment of their strength and position.”
Warren performs another aerial reconnaissance as a small eagle. He looks for alternate ways in.
Not seeing anything, he states:
”Might get rough.”
Warren identifies only two ways to access the dwarf hold turned troll lair.
The first is the barbican entrance at the top of the trail leading up the cliffside path. The second is the watchtower above. Those without the ability of flight will have to scale the rough, sheer face of the rocky hillside to reach the watchtower.
In either case, proceeding with quiet caution will provide you an edge over the distracted troll guards.
It felt strange to be a death dealer. She'd much prefer a quiet nook and a book. The judgment had been given though and she had to set her mind on achieving the task of the king. It was her duty. What good was a magister who didn't magic things?
"I think we should deal with the watchtower guard. He will be able to alert others if he sees anything other than his gut. The sound of battle might alert him. How can we sneak up there? I have a spell that changes my body to climb, but honestly, it isn't capable yet of working on others. Also...I am not sneaky. And also...I am not sure I can kill a troll on my own. I will be at the ready to charge up the wall though and cast an acid spell on him though to finish him off for good, if I can't hit him from below."
Warren shakes his head.
"Much better to lift you one at a time to the top and return for the others. As a huge eagle with strengthening magic I can perform this task."
He looks at their huge new ally.
"Sadly, I cannot take our new friend. But I am sure he can climb after we get into position."
"If you as an eagle can get us up there, it is just a matter of dropping down and ambushing him then once we are all assembled...I believe. Easy..."
Pelipe will ready herself to perform some aerial flight, tactical insertion military-like commando maneuvers. This was most certainly not what she had in mind as to what she'd end up doing when she left the keep.
"I will need a moment to prepare before we depart."
He withdraws three vials from his bandolier. Drinking each one in quick succession, the changes to his body become obvious. His pupils dilate as his skin takes on a vaguely barklike texture. Each breath is quicker and deeper and his speech is much faster, "Ready. Damn, these potions do a number on me. Ready now though, ready to go."
The troll in the watchtower is so engrossed in the filth and fluff that has collected in his warty belly button that he completely fails to notice the massive bird circling around his post - nor does he notice the team of adventurers
The ride in is spectacular. It felt far different not being the bird and flying on one. The only problem was that now she was freezing. Upon landing she heated her hands next to her mouth and awaited the others. When they were ready, they snuck down off the roof and readied to attack the immensely engrossed troll.
"I mean...I get if you have an itch, but it has been minutes. What can you possibly be looking at in there? You act as if there is a surprise. Like a dog who sniffs a bush every day he walks past it because one day he saw a snack there."
When the attack unleashed, she cast a spell, hindering his regenerative properties.
Fort DC13 or sickened
Ahto and Pelipe deliver terrible wounds upon the unsuspecting troll watchman's back.
Katrine raises her bow, nocks an arrow (one of the standard steel-headed kind, no sense wasting cold iron), and looses it at the troll. "Storm, attack!"
The wolfdog snarls and leaps at the troll, teeth bared.
Stayven moves in, drawing his trusty handaxe before slashing at the troll. It bounces off the great beast's rubbery hide.
Katrine lands an arrow deep in the foe's back, but the stone parapet provides enough protection to the troll that Stayven and Storm's attacks are foiled.
Just as the troll is turning to reflexively, blindly lash out at whatever has attacked him - Warren, Hoot, and the eagles tear into his warty hide. Thus, the brute collapses into a quivering heap on the floor of the watchtower without getting to counterattack or raise the alarm.
Of course, you can see the deep lacerations you've left upon his bulk already beginning to knit back together.
Ahto applies the torch to the troll's wounds not staunched by Pelipe's acidic magic, making doubly sure that the creature will not be getting back up from this surprise assault.
A trapdoor in the watchtower floor leads to a long series of stairs that curl along the circular interior of the tower carved into the stone of the hill. Even though it must be 100 feet down to the lower level of the tower, your nostrils are still stung by the acrid smells that suggest the trolls use the room below as a latrine.
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"I don't believe even trolls would defecate down this stairwell if they had to walk up and down it, but perhaps I am giving them too much credit," Ahto comments. "Perhaps we should do a quick search of the immediate level for any useful weapons or munitions, but again, probably assuming too much on that point."
Not even so much as a javelin sits up here in the watchtower, suggesting the troll on watch duty was allowed to only do that much - watch. Thus, it's little wonder that he found his own navel to be a more interesting diversion.
However, you discover that he wears as a medallion a platinum serving platter etched with dwarven geometric art. Some of its value is diminished by the holes punched into its fringe to string a length of cord, facilitating the troll's attempt at DIY jewelry.
The troll also kept an ivory drinking horn with copper ends tucked behind one of his big ears.
"I am not seeing anything, milord. Just these." She would offer up after a brief search. If there was nothing else, she would search the trapdoor of the watchtower for traps (not likely), and would open it briefly. When the stench hit her nose from below, she would visibly gag, which was not like her to do...ever.
"Are we going this way?" she whimpered slightly.
A quick survey of the top of the rocky plateau shows that there are no other access points from above. Thus, the only two entrances to the stronghold are from the watchtower here or through the front entrance down below.
Finding no other choice, you brave the foul odor and descend to the base of the tower carved from the living rock. Apart from the layers of filth that cake this circular chamber, the only other feature of note is the wide staircase leading down to the barbican. You can hear the other two trolls on guard duty keeping themselves well distracted by wrestling with each other.
With the other two distracted, she quietly casts into the tower's circular chamber where they will descend down into the muck. She can keep them clean at least for a while. Toward the top levels, Pelipe can manage with some prestidigitation spells on the cleaning of the tower and the smell, but as they get lower, and silence is far more valuable, she will no longer be able to cast. Hopefully, the offensiveness of the latrine is only in the current circular room and nothing below it down the stairwell. If that is not the case, it is there will be only the lingering scent of her spell to save them from the vile offense of the odor. In any case, she will make her way inside and brave the room's contents with the most pitiful of looks as she attempts not to touch things. Her granduncle and parents, not to mention anyone in her family, would be appalled at her behavior.