Stayven draws his axe and nods to Ahto, ”I’ll keep your flank, milord.”
"I'll hold the torch," she offers if no one else will take it. "If I go down and cannot cast my spells, someone else can come pick up the torch and do what must be done. Also, if there are some fireplaces in here, we might want to take a minute and light them too."
It was after all a dwarven keep at one point. She will do her part in keeping an eye out for dangers ahead.
The trolls are utterly engrossed in their wrestling match, the ferocity of which leaves you wondering whether or not it's merely meant to be a spot of fun, and they completely miss your approach down the stairs at their back.
Katrine steps up next to Pelipe, Storm at her heels. Note to self, buy some alchemical arrows next time I get a chance. She catches Storm's eye and motions him forward, then nocks an arrow to her string and draws it back. "Storm, attack!" The wolfdog sprints forward, teeth bared, as she shoots at the same troll Ahto's currently fighting.
Stayven moves in to take on the troll that Storm's already fighting. His movements are precise and deadly as he starts hacking away at the troll with his trusty handaxe.
Pelipe adds her acid attack to the onslaught you heap upon the unsuspecting troll wrestler, leaving the green brute but a hair's breadth from death and with no regeneration to save him.
The element of surprise seems to keep them momentarily slowed by shock, giving you more crucial seconds to press the attack.
Pelipe wonders if they are always fighting amongst themselves. What will they do to Ahto's people if they are so violent? She holds the torch as a light for others and unleashes a spell toward the nearest. It is an acidic orb this time and with any luck, will splash upon him as he is unaware.
If hit, the acid will seem to linger for about six seconds on him and then fade.
Stayven takes a moment to study the troll's movements and swing, but his axe clatters off the great beast's rubbery hide.
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Having noticed a worrying increase in troll activity within the southern Narlmarches, Faerin Cordova has been keeping an eye on the old dwarf hold where she tracked them to. Spotting a team of unknown adventurers storming the stronghold from the sky, Faerin hustles up the hillside trail to investigate this intriguing turn of events.
Ahto scores another doughty blow against the second troll, but Pelipe and Stayven have trouble hitting the thrashing brutes.
Storm circles around behind the troll to bite the backs of its legs, driven by both instinct and Katrine's training. Meanwhile, Katrine is firing off arrows at high speed.
Storm bites down upon the mortally wounded troll and drags it down to the ground where the bleeding bite wounds finally coax it into unconsciousness, while Pelipe's acid ensures that it cannot simply regenerate its injuries.
Katrine's arrows riddle the other troll, leaving his shoulder and flank flecked with fletching.
The troll lashes out at Ahto with its long, green limbs and manages to catch the noble adventurer with its claws.
Pelipe clears the healing ability of the first troll, but sadly misses the second. She was not a combat-style mage. She was a studious librarian who loved simple things and working with masonry and sculpting. This was not her forte. She tried to clear her mind of such past inclinations and tried to be present. This was life in this area. This was to help save people.
The blow to Ahto enraged her a bit, allowing her to focus her energies a bit quicker this time and splash out a stony-looking glob of acidic petrificant.
However, in her rage, her blast goes wide. She scurries to stay clear of the main melee combat as it ensues.
Getting closer, she can hear the chaotic sounds of battle, sounds of a bowstring and heavy blades, a wolflike snarl, all overpowered by the feral roars of wounded trolls.
Breaking into a run, she dashes up the path, coming to a door that she throws herself against to open, staff in hand a spell on her lips, she is greeted by the sight of a massive troll in a pitched battle with the adventurers she witnessed flying in overhead.
Ahto's sword fails to bite deeply enough into the troll's thick hide to do appreciable damage.
The troll suddenly lurches when the newcomer entering the barbican, which has the unintended consequence of saving it from Pelipe's latest acid attack.
Stayven moves around the troll, trying to fell the beast before it can do more damage to Ahto. As he swings, he yells up at the troll, ”Hey, you big green thug, he’s a lousy dancing partner, lay off him!”
Katrine whistles a command to her wolfdog, and Storm darts behind the surviving troll to try and hamstring the beast. It's a little harder to see this enemy from where Katrine is currently standing than it was to see the other one, so she takes a few seconds to run into the room before firing off another couple shots.
Faerin has arrived just in time to watch the strangers that have infiltrated the trolls' lair bring down one of the green brutes with deadly efficiency, leaving his body slumped upon the corpse of another of his kin. These adventurers seem to know what they're doing, too, for they quickly apply fire and acid to the creatures' wounds to keep them from regenerating and rising again.
Besides the south staircase leading up to the watchtower, there is another wide, darkened staircase that leads westward, deeper into the old dwarven guard post.
The trolls had each set down a sack in either corner of the room, and whether from their own wrestling or the party's surprise assault, the burlap got ripped - spilling out some of the many coins they kept stashed inside.
Pelipe will dash the fire over the corpses, since it doesn't seem that she can hit with her spells. The torch seems to be throwing her off. She will have to compensate in her aiming.
"My Lord Ahto, it appears we have an ally in cause here."
She nods in greeting to Faerin.
"My name is Pelipe. Magister of Tamlyn's ruling council. This here is King Ahto."
She will bow in honor, though, warily. She will let the others introduce themselves as well if they wish.
Her eyes and ears are attentive to their surroundings in case there are more trolls nearby.
Meanwhile, she will cast a quick spell to clean the coins that spilled out. Who knew the last time the trolls cleaned up. If no one would collect it, she would go about helping to do so.
"Well then, nice to see you all know how to take them down." Faerin says, taking in the members of the group.
The woman who steps forward stands a bit taller than the average human woman possessing a subtle, yet exotic beauty, blending elven and human features harmoniously. Burgundy windswept, mid-length hair, and a complexion with a rich golden tinge of sun exposure, emanate the energy of the natural world, while her piercing eyes seem to continually shift between blue, green, and grey depending on the light. Beneath her well-made hide armor light leaf-and-vine pattern tattoos grace her collar out to her shoulders, and down her arms, while a large intricate druidic sigil adorns the left side of her partially exposed midsection. She wears little in the way of jewelry, a simple leather pendant necklace, and plain silver earrings accompanying a small silver ring piercing her nose.
”I’ve been looking into the increase in troll activity in the area, and worked my way back here. Saw you all fly in and thought, it as good a time as any to venture in. My name is Faerin Cordova.” she says with something halfway between a nod and a bow. "Please to meet you Magister Pelipe, and you Your Highness."
Katrine nods to the new arrival, returning her longbow to its place on her back. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Marshal Katrine Thalian, and this is my companion Storm." The wolfdog's ears perk up at his name, and he trots over to sit at his mistress' side, muzzle and ruff smeared with troll blood. She smiles and reaches down to scratch him gently behind the ears. "Druid, eh? My brother's a druid, I don't know the language but I recognize some of the symbols in your tattoo. I follow the Green Faith myself."
At first glance Katrine appears human enough. She's obviously dressed for travel and/or hunting in a large bearskin poncho and sturdy brown woolen trousers, but her nails are long and sharply pointed; something that shouldn't be possible with an active lifestyle. And even in the often gloomy climate of the River Kingdoms, an outdoorswoman should have at least a bit of a tan, yet Katrine is pale as milk. When she looks up, you can see that while her right eye is an ordinary shade of brown, her left eye is an inhumanly vivid leaf-green.
Almost human, but not quite.
Stayven gives a slight bow and a wide smile, "Well met. The name's Stayven, Stayven Vernikas. I'm the treasurer of this here kingdom, though newly appointed, I must confess."
The man is lithe and of decidedly average height, with dark eyes and dark hair, as well as olive skin tanned by long hours spent outside. Though lacking any substantial muscle, he carries himself like a skilled warrior. He wipes some troll blood off his handaxe before slinging it into a sheathe on his belt.
Faerin smiles as Storm pads up to sit beside Katrine, her expression welcoming at the mention of the Green Faith and her brother. "Well met Marshal Katrine, and Stayven. It is a welcome sight to find others fighting back the expanding troll 'kingdom'."
Pelipe speaks in a quieter voice now that the raging sounds of battle have ceased. The absence of sound and their common tongue may inspire others to come investigate should they speak or shout too loudly (assuming any other trolls were nearby).
"Yes...not entirely a kingdom. Perhaps more accurately an inspired congregation of foes by a common enemy with the desire to end our lovely kingdom, if I had to guess. We were visited by a fae queen from the Faewild, who in no uncertain terms, showed her hand that she most certainly seeks our destruction and has arranged multiple local terrors to bring that about in her chaotic wake."
Then looking at the refuse of the tower that the trolls had used as a latrine, she shakes her head, "Plus, they are too disorganized to run a kingdom. I am certain their leader calls himself a chieftain though. We could certainly use the kind help of the druids, should our kingdom not have drawn your ire. To be honest, I have never seen a kingdom more happy to welcome both nature and industry side-by-side in harmony."
She had heard of the doom of druids and so sought to hopefully divert that by being friendly here for Ahto's sake, should his kingdom rouse their anger and powerful magics. They may even join with Narissa should he offend them, and may have done so in the past already.
As for Pelipe, she was clearly well brought up in high society. Her tone of address was one that would grace even higher courts in the land. Her poise was perfect and she was charismatically beautiful. While she had certainly seen a little sun and wind, her hair has been wonderfully treated for a voyage through swampland and her clothing is immaculate. Despite the likelihood of her upbringing, she wears no clothing of a noble here, and her hands, while dainty and beautiful, still seem like they've seen the difficulty of her hobby, masonry.
Faerin listens to the Magister's words, considering her assessment as she waits for any response from the King himself.
[ooc] Do I have any knowledge of the Nymph Queen or active fey or druid activity in the region? Do I have an idea of how true the harmony between Fey and the kingdom actually is from anything I may have heard?
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Ahto cleans the foul troll blood from Burden's blade, then sheathes it.
Before he addresses the newcomer, he performs the rite of his order:
He moves to stand over the bodies of the trolls, reaches for the iron key of Abadar around his neck, and intones a prayer.
"Be it Abadar's will that the sins you committed in life, the same sins that condemned you to death, be consumed in the fires of justice. May that same fire give me strength, and light my way through the darkness of anarchy and chaos."
As he speaks, a small white flame appears; hovering in the air mere inches before his face. An inky black, almost liquid smoke rises from the mouths of the corpses and slithers upwards, drawn as if through a hollow reed towards the flame.
As the smoke is consumed, the candle-like flame becomes a torch-sized ball of fire. Ahto reaches out with his free hand and grasps the fire, cradling it in his hand. He brings it to his mouth, and inexplicably, swallows it; the licking flames flowing into his mouth as if from a drinking horn.
Ahto shudders as he swallows, the light of the fire slowly diffusing across his skin. The cut in his side closes, leaving a pink line of new skin.
Once the ritual is completed, Ahto turns to Faerin. "Greetings and welcome to Tamlyn. I am Ahto Ulrych, sworn of Abadar and First Councilor of this nascent nation. If you wish to ally yourself with us against this mob of trolls and their master, we gladly welcome your aid. If you wish to remain in Tamlyn after, and find a home here, you are likewise welcome to do so, provided you obey our laws and customs and live peacefully with all of our citizens."
Faerin watches the bizarre ritual in stunned silence, eyes widening as she witnesses the black energy drawn from the lungs of the corpses, like a dying breath being consumed, brows furrowing as she sees this King Ahto’s wounds heal almost vampirically. Resisting the impulse to take a step back, her color-shifting eyes study the man silently trying to understand what she was witnessing, and assess if he himself were a bigger threat to the natural order than even the trolls.
His companions seemed the type that would be unlikely to follow one with fell intent, yet those who fed on the lives and souls of others could sometimes exert control of the minds of those close to them. Her eyes shift to Pelipe, who spoke so welcomingly, and glance over at Katrine, who feels like something of a kindred spirit.
”Please to meet you First Councilor Ulrych, I’m happy to lend my aid to taking down the trolls. They’ve created quite a threat in the area and need to be stopped for the good of all who dwell in these lands. As for remaining in Tamlyn, I would very much like to see your lands and meet it’s people. I’ve heard much of your settlement.”
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Ahto nods in acknowledgment of Faerin's statement. "My apologies that the current circumstances are not conducive to a proper introduction, and prohibits an opportunity for you to see our burgeoning community in Horace, and the surrounding countryside. Once the trolls are dealt with, we will rectify that matter once we have returned."
The druid nods, looking around the chamber. "Alright, where to next?"
Pelipe will gesture in the direction of the path she watches now. It likely leads further into the keep's depths and greater danger. She will not take the lead though and while not sneaky by any means, attempts it at least.
With a nod, Faerin begins casting a spell, uttering an incantation in druidic as she crushes a piece of tree bark in her hand. Instead of falling to the ground, the broken bits of bark seem to be absorbed into her hand, a groan emanating from her body, almost like the creaking of a great oak, as bark emerges from the flesh of her hand, snaking up her arm, and overtaking her entire torso, completely covering any exposed flesh.
Faerin watches the bizarre ritual in stunned silence, eyes widening as she witnesses the black energy drawn from the lungs of the corpses, like a dying breath being consumed, brows furrowing as she sees this King Ahto’s wounds heal almost vampirically. Resisting the impulse to take a step back, her color-shifting eyes study the man silently trying to understand what she was witnessing, and assess if he himself were a bigger threat to the natural order than even the trolls.
His companions seemed the type that would be unlikely to follow one with fell intent, yet those who fed on the lives and souls of others could sometimes exert control of the minds of those close to them. Her eyes shift to Pelipe, who spoke so welcomingly, and glance over at Katrine, who feels like something of a kindred spirit.
Hmm, it seems that they'll need to explain the nature of Ahto's powers. It looks alarming, but as far as Katrine knows he's not actually devouring souls. Interfering with the cycle of souls is against natural law, and Abadar would not approve. Katrine looks over at Faerin.
Katrine takes a deep breath, centering herself, before slinking into the shadows.
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The Stolen Lands within the northeastern River Kingdoms have long been the playground of many fey creatures. In fact, this is one of the most significant reasons why this region has resisted colonization and settlement so many times over the centuries.
A mix of harmlessly mischievous fey and more malevolent ones have been known to dwell in these lands. There was a tribe of mites living beneath the great old sycamore tree, but they have recently been eliminated - supposedly a result of a feud with a nearby tribe of kobolds.
Some of the prominent fey in the area include a dryad named Tiressia and her satyr consort, a nixie sorceress named Melianse, and a trickster pair made up of a faerie dragon and a grig.
...
The region is devoid of organized druid circles, but there are some isolated individuals who make their homes in the area. For instance, you've heard of a hermit druid known as the Bee Man who has a particular affinity, unsurprisingly, for bees.
There are also stories of a swamp witch living on the shores of the Candlemere lake, with some of the rumors ascribing vaguely druidic powers to her. However, you are intensely skeptical of their veracity.
...
The mention of a Nymph Queen brings to mind stories you've heard of a very powerful fey woman who was exiled from the First World. Those you've spoken with who know of her have refused to speak her name, fearing it would draw her terrible attention upon them.
You cautiously ascend the stairs westward and discover what was once the main hall of this ancient guard post.
A large stone table takes up the center of this large chamber, whose walls are decorated with ancient carvings that have been defaced and vandalized with crude graffiti in several languages. A headless halfling corpse lies atop the bloodstained table.
Another troll stands beside the table, picking bits from the doomed halfling and tossing them to the slavering trollhound hopping around him. They both stop their reverie and begin sniffing the air, eventually affixing their attention upon the stairs where they immediately spot Ahto, Pelipe, and the rest of the party.
They both howl with excited rage and prepare to smash and gobble up the intruders.
Pelipe wanders into the grand main hall. Having been raised in such halls, she can imagine it without the years of decay and neglect. Trolls dirtying up the place didn't help either, but to her eyes, she can still see it in its original state. The masonry alone was enough to marvel her. Dwarves with their stonecutting were flawless.
Her eyes don't take long to scan the room before falling upon the large stone table and what is upon it.
"Ugh!" she gasps disgustingly as she sees the halfling being ripped apart. For some reason, she imagines her own self in such a predicament if they fail. For that reason, she leaps into action when the troll and hound seem to do so.
Stayven readies his axe, taking a deep breath and limbering up a bit before getting ready for more of the wet-work that kingdom building unfortunately seems to require.
The troll moves a bit sluggishly, but the trollhound at his side is very ready for some real action. Worse still, you can hear some of its kennel mates rousing to attention in a nearby chamber.
Pelipe can see the massive size of the troll and the threat before them. She quickly reaches out to Ahto and blesses him with an arcane sigil of strength.
"May Abadar give you strength in your conviction and guide your blade well with my magic."
While Pelipe was not a cleric, nor using divine magic, it seems she still gives great faith to the god.
Just when the surge of strength seems at its maximum, Pelipe pours into it some of her own power, as well as a bit of powdered dust and Ahto's strength surges all the more. While Bull's Strength is commonly cast to aid people, this seems to be extra potent.
A moment later, Pelipe will dig the scroll of burning hands she owns and readies it to be cast upon all of their foes.
"Group them together if you can, and be mindful of my flames!"
The first of the trollhounds barrels forward and charges at Ahto with its slavering jaws. It bites down hard upon the lord and actually manages to pull him off his feet and drag him to the ground.
The other trollhounds squeeze past their master and stop short of the party, pausing to growl and bark at you in anticipation of joining the attack.
Faerin raises her hands, chanting in druidic as she completes her spell, conjuring a burst of barbed, acid-filled nettles amid the troll and his hounds.
Only the southernmost hound moves quickly enough to evade the worst of Faerin's caustic burst of nettles.
Despite his disadvantageous position, Ahto delivers a swing of Burden that nearly hews the trollhound's legs from its body.
Aiming to finish what Ahto started, Stayven moves up and takes a swing at the trollhound.
The troll, angered by the burst of nettles, takes one big step forward and attempts to tear apart Stayven - the first foe in his path - with his teeth and claws.