Torenz practically cracks his own spine whipping around as Malz changes his orders yet again. He's barely able to keep up with the chaos going on as is, and this mortal continues to casually order him around like a dog? He gathers half a mind to tell the elf to piss off...then remembers the painful bindings. Mortal he may be, but powerful.
Disgruntled the imp continues to fly around as eyes for Malzthazir.
Unable to find the red gnoll, Torenz sighs and keeps searching.
The elite gnolls upon their dire wolves scramble across the rubble towards the men of Haemil and Foramdar. With his bardiche, Foramdar stabs one of the gnolls while another soldier pierces another with his longspear.
Foramdar retracts his bardiche and slashes again at the gnoll, striking it once.
Niyut flies in her swan form until she lands near the fallen giant and transforms back into her human shape, and pulls the essences from the giant.
As the gnolls boil over the rubble, Garidan instinctively falls back to give himself room to maneuver, though his dismay when Foramdar remains where he is clear to see. It's too late to change course, however, as a pair of bare-fanged humanoids swiftly move to engage the swashbuckler, leaving him scrambling to take them down before they can do so to him. His blade flicks out to pin the leftmost gnoll with the tip, striving to bypass the creature's armor and evasive movement to find the soft, vulnerable flesh.
Truk'tosh channels the might of the river into his bonded weapon empowering it with chilling unyielding force.
"Is it the way of all gnoll warchiefs to hide like a mouse while the warriors battle? Why would you follow such a coward?" Truk'tosh taunts before sending his empowered weapon into the ranks of gnoll. Nethuns flies into the arc of the weapon mid flight, adding his own elemental boon.
From Gruskorb's vista, the battle was a fierce one. Giants, footmen, archers, sorcery - it had all the hallmarks of a bards' tale. His actions to contribute, however, would be left out. Good. They won't mind omitting my name in the aftermath either...
It was at that very thought he heard a chuckle in his mind. A moment was taken for him to recognize it, but it somehow matched what he ... expected?.. Lockjaw to sound like. This thought was both odd because he hadn't spent much time speculating to the thing's voice, but also because his thoughts were elsewhere at the moment. The laughter modulated mildly before increasing in volume. It was then he finally put his finger on the speaker.
Cousin?
Grusky, you're doing so well for yourself despite the harrowing circumstances of this skirmish! Your mother would be proud. She - a moment -
Gruskorb could feel the iron jaws snapping closed around another victim from afar.
Do excuse the interruption, but the energy here is so scrumptious! She would be happy to see you're doing something of worth with yourself. But would she be pleased to know why you're doing it?
From youth, Gruskorb's cousin Vikkon was the older brother he never had. The boy exemplified the more scholastic side of the Aegeans where Gruskorb's intellect was more cunning of the moment, and Vikkon's penchant for being overbearing to downright bullying gave the two a checkered relationship as they aged together. The last time they'd spoken - which wasn't too long before the slavery incident - Vikkon had seemed rather dismissive of the backwater, shady dealings Gruskorb had bragged about. Instead, the young wizard was far more interested in his tomes.
This situation made no sense though; that trap didn't even exist until after the two had parted for some time. His cousin was likely dead. Gruskorb tried to reassert control as the battle raged around him, though thankfully not in direct proximity.
Lockjaw, heel. There are other soldiers that need ...
Oh, enough with their petty needs! You have such more pious desires to be met! Dicing, wenching, looting of the dead - I'm sure that brute with an axe would like to join you!
Though Vikkon was very bright, Gruskorb had learned through being under the older boy's boot when to extricate himself from a situation. He's trying to provoke me into doing something...
The hobgoblin took off at a sprint, attempting to run away from the parasite in his mind. An Olympic leap sent him over the river as one of the corner towers collapsed, suddenly crumpling. Gods, what power!
That impresses you, does it? You were always so easily wooed... called the voice.
Drawing his whips, the rogue dashed to a familiar man's proximity - Garidan's. "We've repelled them on my side. One final push, and we've got this!" He flexed one of his wrists, cracking his left whip.
Stepping towards Foramdar, Garidan unleashes his foil's shards upon one of the gnolls. The gnoll recoils from the attack clearly upset and distraught (shaken 3 rounds). The archers fire at the elite worg riders, killing one and wounding several others. Lightning crackle down upon the gnoll directly infant of Foramdar, utterly destroying him in an instant. Meanwhile, the soldiers continue to advance and strike at the gnolls, wounding several and killing another. Far to the north, the riders continue to slaughter the gnolls.
Garidan strikes out at one of the gnolls as they engaged him. The swashbuckler nimbly knocks the gnoll's sword aside and pierces his torso. with a howl, the gnoll begins to spit blood from its mouth, clearly wounded and on the brink of death. High above, Truk'tosh hurls his axe at the gnoll elites, killing one with a quick succession of two devastating blows before striking another worg rider with his third attack. With a tremendous leap, Gruskorb hurdles the raging river and lands with an acrobatic roll coming to his feet just to the south of Garidan.
Niyut draws the essences from the dead giant. She feels their power as she gathers them in her clutches.
The gnoll slayers begin to swarm Foramdar and the soldiers. While a couple are hurt by the pollards as they move in, the two that engage the captain each strike a nasty blow with their falchions. Carving deep into Foramdar's legs and torso. Foramdar grimaces but does not yield. While a few of the gnolls reach garidan, they are unable to get an opportunity to attack having climbed down the rubble and debris to make their way to him.
The hill giant with a burst of power and determination climbs out of the pit and growls at Truk'tosh as he sees the druid catching his axe. Below, the ogre continues to struggle and is trapped in the mystical pit.
"I found over thirty gnoll rangers to the north on the foothills firing longbows at the walls! They are broken into two groups," Leezzâ says from the darkness.
Malz watches the archers get swarmed by friendly riders. Too chaotic. They would hit too many allies. From the ether climbs a small, disgusting creature dripping with green slime. At Malz's word it moves towards the gnoll archers on the west side of the battlefield, and with a gesture summons a sickening green cloud over them.
Malz begins another summoning spell.
With the hill giant finally free of its hole, Torenz flies over and whispers to it in the giant language. "Your attack is doomed, but you can still live. If you flee now you can get away."
HIT
HIT
HIT
HIT
Malthazir summons a nasty mephit that races northwest finding the gnolls as expected. The gnolls draw back their bows and fire another volley at the walls, yet the winds protecting them thwart the attack.
The two elites facing Garidan attack the swashbuckler with their battle-axes, each striking him a single, slashing blow.
Two other elites tear into Foramdar. Their battle-axes cleave into his armor and expose his flesh. Spitting blood from his lips, the Captain stands his grounds. "For Haemil!!" he shouts and points at one of the elites who had just attacked him. "You die first!" Foramdar drops his shield and grips his longsword with two hands. Bright white streaks of radiant light shine from the handle of the swords as the cavalier strikes down his opponent. A shock wave surges through the air, and the dust swirls about the battlefield. Renewed energy enters the Captain as he turns and swings at the other elite but fails to connect.
The hill giant hunches and lowers himself, looking all around. His face looks confused and unsure what to do.
Lightning arcs down from the sky in a silent flash around Foramdar. The human warrior grabs a hold of it and rides it into the sky briefly before it strikes behind the gnolls in the gap. There Foramdar stands, tall as a titan, appearing to vibrate with divine energies. His renewed strength and increased power is a provocation to the slaves of the cannibal god and the redmaned gnoll who leads them.
Where once Foramdar stood appears only as empty air.
In his ear, Foramdar hears a soft feminine whisper, "Having saved you life once, I am not about to let you die in front of me. Your men and women will strike these gnolls down and they will need there captain to lead them. Heal. For this battle is not yet done."
Looking to abrogate some of the threat on Garidan, Gruskorb aimed for the enemy's legs in front of him, dragging him to the ground, then the weapon of the one on his right when the opening presented itself.
He should probably take advantage of that opening, but to escape or strike, who can say?
Gruskorb took a step forward, ready to punish the fallen soldier if he dared to stand.
The transformation of Foramdar into a mythic titan startles the nearby gnollish rangers who turn their back to the invisible Captain and take in the awesome figure towering over them. However, the elite gnolls cannot be so easily fooled and disregard the obvious illusion, searching for Foramdar. The captain stands still for a moment, not quite sure what to make of the events, then turns and sees the translucent shape of his titanic doppelgänger. He nods and whispers, "A reprieve that I shall take advantage of...". Around him arrows from above pelt down upon the gnolls striking several of them. An elite gnoll raises it's sword to strike down upon Garidan. Yet, it stops and opens its eyes wide. As the light fades from its eyes and the creature falls at the swashbuckler's feet, Garidan sees a thick arrow lodged into the base of the gnoll's neck. Garidan looks up at Haemil's archers and sees a lone marksman standing upon the parapets, looking down at him. With a quick nod at Garidan, the archer nocks another arrow preparing to fire again.
With lightning flashing about the tight, bloody skirmish, Garidan stands in awe a moment before his sister's voice calls out to him. "Gari! Don't let them flank you!" Amidst the clashing sounds of battle, the quiet hobgoblin slinks from the shadows of the night. His whip snaps and grabs the ankle of the gnoll to garidan's left, sending the slayer to the ground. Releasing one gnoll, the whip then lashes out towards another and snatches his battle-ax from his hand. The heavy steel weapon lands at garidan's feet.
Far to the north the riders of Haemil have the archers nearly wiped out.
Shaking his head to clear the growing fatigue--and the pain from his increasing assortmemt of injuries both minor and otherwise--from his mind, Garidan gets back to the matter of butchering gnolls as effectively and quickly as possible. His moment of distraction let his previous foe slip away in the press of bodies, but Gruskorb's beautifully-timed arrival gives the swashbuckler two vulnerable victims to work with, and he quickly settles on the one lacking a weapon.
After giving the disarmed gnoll a couple of swift jabs, Garidan pants and eyes the remainder warily. He doesn't have much left, and hopes that this fight concludes swiftly (and not with his messy death, naturally).
"Leezzâ, the redmaned gnoll and the magic bear may be invisible. Do you have anyway to see invisible things, if not pierce the veil. The bear shines terribly brightly through it."
Garidan shuffles to his right as the large gnoll lifts his battleaxe above his head to cleave the swashbuckler. With a quick thrust, his foil finds a weak spot in the gnoll's armor under his left armpit. The blade slides quickly and easily into the beast's torso, taking more than half the length of the rapier. The gnoll releasees one hand from the axe and his knees buckle. Garidan knows the end is near for the humanoid, but his reflexes ensure a quick demise. With a grace spin, he dislodges the blade and runs its full length against the gnoll's exposed neck. It gurgles once, then collapses.
"I'm without either of those powers, Niyut," Leezzâ blurts out quite loudly in the message.
Finding a challenger in the giant before him, Truk'tosh stops his axe spinning in favor of a proper melee grip. He crouches slightly, lowering his center of gravity as he prepares to strike.
"Where is your red-maned champion?" Truk demands from the giant as he sizes his opponent up. "Are you willing to die for him while he hides?"
Truk'tosh's speed surprises the hill giant, who falls on his back as the half-orc brings his axe down. Lying supine, the giant instinctively brings up his arm to protect himself. The axe blade smashed through the forearm, hacking away a large chunk of flesh. Another blow comes down. This time the axe slams into his midsection, slicing through the hardened hides that act as armor. Fear and doubt overwhelm him. And he begins to violently roll as he attempts to get away. The sudden surge catches Truk'tosh unaware and he misses his third and final attack. Out of desperation, the hill giant tries to scramble to his feet, but Truk'tosh brings Morgrym's Axe down upon his head, splitting the skull in two. The giants body tumbles from the wall onto the roof top of the structure below, yanking the axe from the half-orc's hand. Before the giant's body strikes the roof, the axe dislodges itself and flies back to its master. A shadowy flame drifts up from the corpse and forms a small glowing ember that hovers beckoning for another to extract it.
In the midst of the battle, two of the gnolls turn and attack the silent image of Foramdar looming from atop the pile of rubble that once was the mighty river tower. Yet, their blades pass through the cavalier's body without harm. Confused, they howl and grind their teeth as they prepare to strike again.
Having dispatched a gnoll, Garidan realizes that more are coming. Three approach and surround him waving their falchions in the air as they attack. While one howls and swings wildly at Garidan, the other two flank him and work together to damage him with precision. As much as the y try, the first two attackers fail to come close to hurting the swashbuckler, but the third lands a well-placed blow.
Malz finishes his summoning spell, causing two aurochs to erupt out of the ether. As they stampede forward Malz gestures. "Tairais svern!" The air warps around them as they speed up, flashing towards the archers and barreling into them at terrifying speeds.
The mephit, after waiting for his targets to get run through by a stampede, drops his spell, then moves in closer to wreck further havoc.
Malz uses his new hasted speed to get closer to his companions.
Torenz practically has an aneurysm when the hill giant goes down, despite the fact that he kept it confused for a round. The one thing I did! Ruined! He says a number of colorful curses and kicks at the air.
1=Truk
Crit?
Nope
Hit
HIT
The Aurochs run rampant through the rangers trapping several of them severely. No sooner had they felt the trampling of the beasts, a green mist descended upon them with a foul stench. The all covered their mouths with the folds of their hoods preventing them from inhaling the toxic fumes, but they all know that they must vacate the area or risk inhaling it later. In haste, they all move north, then fire their bows at the Auraochs, slaying both in an instant. However, one gnoll's bow breaks and another injures himself.
To the north the black tentacles continue to crush the archers, although several are able to break free and begin to run north. The archers just to the west of the river finally notice the commotion there and fire at the riders of Haemil wounding one and killing another. But the riders were undeterred and continued to trample and slay the gnolls.
Truk'tosh stands still for a moment, staring at the dead hill giant. The archer next to him, grunts and drops to a knee as an arrow strikes him. Before he can take in the situation, the archer is dead with several more arrows stuck in him. A tingling sensation from his mamiwa helps him avoid the first arrow coming his way, but another strikes him in the chest, narrowly missing his heart. Several. more fly past him before a second arrow strikes his right calf.
The elites rush into the rubble, some attacking the illusory captain, while three attack him directly having not been fooled. The captain fends off several attacks with his renewed strength and faith. His shield, moving gracefully, takes the brunt of all the attacks save one. One swing of a gnoll's battleaxe glances off the shield and strikes Foramdar in the left shoulder. The captain makes no noise. His thoughts are strictly on the attacking gnolls and their demise. Two quick flashes of his blade and the head of one gnoll falls amongst the rubble and waste. A third stroke, injures another gnoll, but the elite ranger only grins as he raises his axe for another strike.
HIs soldiers cut down a gnoll behind Foramdar before swarming forward and striking the last elite twice and severely wounding the humanoid. Four other soldiers shuffle south near Gruskorb and the swashbuckler, successfully attacking the gnoll slayers assailing the two heroes. The archers of Haemil rain down vengeance upon the gnolls, killing many including two near Garidan. The young human had positioned his rapier for a killing blow, but watched as the gnoll's neck was pierced with an arrow. The dog scratched and clawed at the projectile, but the blood flow was too great. It succumbed to death and fell over. Only two now remain for the he and Gruskorb to finish.
Having done what she can for Foramdar by rendering him invisible and giving the gnolls an illusory bone to gnaw, Niyut is drawn to the dead hill giant. Brain and gore drip down the side of the building and she reaches up and touches it using the teachings of the Liber Sanguinem to draw the giant's power out through its blood.
Lost to his warrior's rage, Truk'tosh hardly acknowledges the arrow jutting from his bloodied torso. He considers crossing the field to take the fight to the gnoll archers but decides against it in favor of defending the wall. After starting his axe spinning again, Truk'tosh aims a toss down at the gnolls crossing the rubble of the ruined tower.
Niyut extracts the cliff giant's essences which coalesce in her outstretched palm. She feels the warm glowing desire of the Libre Sanguinem to consume them, but fights back the impulses to obey. She's startled back to the battle as a flash of lightning strikes down a gnoll. Garidan recoils from the heat of the strike and watches the dead gnoll fall at his feet, still steaming with magical energy from the ethereal lightning.
High above, Truk'tosh hurls his axe at the closest elite ranger. The battleaxe cleaves the gnoll's arm from his body. He falls over, flailing and kicking until his life force fades. Catching the battleaxe upon its return, he turns and hurls it two more times at another, injured elite ranger. With two quick, successive blows that gnoll also falls to the raging druid's attack.
With a lot of the hostile pressure suddenly removed from him, Garidan pauses just long enough to take a few deep breaths and stretch some of the gathering fatigue from his body before wading back into the slaughter. His target this time is the last gnoll facing Foramdar--the real one, that is, and not the eye-catching illusion that he suspects is Niyuts work--and the swashbuckler moves to catch the foe between himself and the captain. Before attacking, however, he furrows his brow in effort and seizes upon a bit of the magic infusing his body. Foolishly, he hadn't done so earlier (but it had slipped his mind with everything else happening), but now he felt his mind expand with a new insight into gnolls, with an emphasis on fighting them most effectively.
Swinging his blade in a left-to-right forehand motion, he guides the edged tip skillfully through a horizontal gap in the gnoll's armor, opening a bloody furrow across the vulnerable meat beneath.
Garidan slides north to attack the elite gnoll. He adjusts his grip and brings the rapier around in a spinning motion, The tip of the blade slices through the gap between the gnoll's chain shirt and his gauntlets. Blood surges out of the wound in pulses and coats his side.
And he's dead...
Gruskorb lashes out with both whips slashing the gnoll across his face. Red streaks of blood splatter against the white, granite rocks that once composed the river tower. The gnoll howls in pain and then scrambles to his feet. The hobgoblin cackles and strikes out again with his scorpion whip. The sonic shock of the whip is heard across the cityscape as metallic studded leather thong snags the gnolls left leg at the ankle. With a violent tug, Gruskorb yanks the dog's foot from beneath it. Landing hard on the rubble, its head comes down upon the sharp edge of a keystone carved for an arrow slit. With an audible crack, the gnolls head splits upon the rock. Garidan, not far from the gnoll at the time, turns his head to see the gray matter oozing from its opened skull. The swashbuckler chokes down a bit of vomit and refocuses on the battle.
The three slayers about the massive captain begin to argue in gnollish. Suddenly, one of them angrily barks at the others and turns to run towards Garidan. Having to cross the rubble of the broken tower, he can only swing his falchion once. Swallowing back his nausea, Garidan gracefully avoids the blow.
Torenz, if I see you waste another moment I'll have a flayer skin you. Guard the clerics, ensure they reach their destination. Malthazir floats down near Aedwynn. "It is Malthazir, you're needed to create a bridge for the riders. I will turn you and Wulfwindt invisible and summon mounts for you, begin heading over there."
You're deep in war. Inspire them.
I will not-
You will.
I don't even know any so-
I do. Trust me.
Almost against his will, a voice escapes Malz's lips that is not quite his own. Although it is disembodied coming from the invisible elf, it is nonetheless a rousing song over the battle for the defenders.
The three cowering gnolls still in the tentacles grasp, flail their arms in desperation as the last breath leaves their bodies and they fall limp. The riders then make fast work of the last of the nearby rangers.
One of the elite rangers, stares up at the huge Foramdar upon the pile of debris and yaps. He looks to move towards the city when an echoing howl from the darkness disrupts the night. He looks north and then back at the broken tower and Earthenwork beyond, hesitating. At last, he howls in return and turns and runs northwest into the darkness.
"The gnolls are retreating," whispers Leezzâ.
The last elite ranger within the city, looks over his shoulder. Returning his attention to Garidan, he begins to drool. HIs saliva dripping from his muzzle, he attacks with abandon. He brings his axe down with a wild overhead swing. Garidan tries to guard against the blow, but his rapier is turned aside and the axe strikes his chest. His breastplate protects his chest to some degree, but the strike is powerful. A second swing follows but the gnoll is off'balance and it goes wide, sparing the swashbuckler.
Foramdar puts his left hand to his face and tilts his head back. His face glows as his spirit is renewed.
Before Leezzâ's intelligence, Niyut had been preparing to release her shadow amongst the gnoll rangers. Now, however, her thoughts turn to looting the dead. The gnoll worg riders had carried magical bows. These curios could be repurposed for their benefit. The giants, especially the cliff giant, may have carried charms and totems. Besides, she wants some of his blood for her book and her charms. Best to do that while invisible.
She is moved by necessity mixed with hunger.
For a moment Truk'tosh hesitates. Was this a retreat or were the gnolls regrouping? Hearing the sounds of battle beneath him still, the big orc turns his spinning axe toward the gnolls battling at the breach in the wall.
"It's over. Your kin have fled. Throw down your arms and surrender or die!" he demands.
The opportunity Truk'tosh shouted at the gnolls Gruskorb was not willing to grant so easily. He pressed the field advantage, dodging behind his allies to enter their proximity. So many bodies littering the field. I imagine a prisoner or two to talk wouldn't hurt the spoils though...
The lightning of Calladrym strikes down upon the last elite gnoll, knocking from his feet. He is, at once, set upon by the soldiers of Haemil. Their pole-arms, piercing his flesh. Before Gruskorb can speak, the archers from above rained down arrows upon the final few gnolls, who slumped to the ground. A single gnoll escapes and runs north only to be struck down by whirling axe of Truk'tosh. Garidan stepped up to the fallen elite ranger of the gnollish army, who body was strewn with wounds oozing fluids of fiery red. The gnoll cackled at him and spit up more blood. With a final gasp, it uttered in common, "The night has been revealed, and He will follow with fire and ash. His reign will..." The gnoll's eyes roll back and his life leaves the world.
Wulfwyndt and Aedwynn tend to a few wounds of the critically injured, including Captain Foramdar before heading north with an escort of soldiers and archers. Calling the will of Calladrym they shape a bridge of earth across the great river. The riders spur their horses across the bridge and into the distant night in search of the last gnolls and their leader.
Back in Earthenwork, Niyut surveys the bodies of the giants that lay dead in the city. Neither creature carried anything that displays an aura of the ether. The hill giant did carry a giant club made of a dark hardwood scorched with fire. The stench from the weapon was nauseous up close as it smelled of burnt flesh and dried blood. In a small bag lashed to his belt, you find some stale jerky and a bone knife. The cliff giant wears loose hide armor with many folds and leather braided belt holding the pelt in place. The massive great club has a clear crystal strapped to a smooth wooden handle nearly ten feet in length.
As Gruskorb searches the gnoll bodies for spoils of war, he finds very little of value beyond some survival gear, including flint & steel, several dull hunting knives, a small steel grappling hook, a few sets of crude lock picks, a rusted pair of manacles and a set of betting dice. On one of the last gnolls, he finds a fine silver chain laced with a leather cord. This metal cord was used to tie the gnolls leather bracer upon its right forearm. As he inspects the gnoll, he notices its fingers slightly twitching. Feeling them, he realizes that the gnoll still grasps to life.
A few of the remaining men of Haemil form a sentry on the tower walls at Foramdar's command while several others begin to stack the bodies of the dead gnolls in a large pyre outside the city. Their weapons and armor are collected and inspected. Several of the archers take great care to inspect the long bows of the elite rangers, but before long, they spit upon the ground and cast the bows upon pile of bodies. "Foul Magic!" they mutter.
The two clerics and their escort return from the north.
Finally. That was...exhausting.
Are you going to-
Not now...but later. I promise.
Torenz, inspect the bodies for magic. I want anything and everything gathered together in a pile so I can inspect it. Malz drops his invisibility, floating over to the other party members. He looks at Garidan and takes out his dark red ooze. "Here, let us take care of those wounds..."
Torenz clenches his teeth. Stupid two-leg pointy-ear one-eye...
We are mentally linked. This is your first and last warning.
Torenz speeds off, the picture of a perfect worker as he scans the desecrated battlefield. Just look at that damage! He chose a bad time to reveal himself.
Upon seeing the archers throwing away the gnoll bows and crying out Magic! he hovers over, dropping his invisibility. "Magic, you say?" And the best kind it seems. He floats down to inspect the bows.
Niyut will take advantage of being invisible to extract the essences of as many of the bows as she can as well as gathering two vials of the cliff giant's blood. As much as she thinks that they should be grateful to her and her companions and not begrudge them their spoils, in her experience the people of Haemil are suspicious and foolishly fearful. It would be a simple matter for them to turn their fear upon her.
Afterwards, she will briefly search for the enchanted bridge.
Once she is satisfied that the strength of the gnoll army will soon be turned towards better purposes, her purposes, she will tell Foramdar of the next threat.
"Two things you must warn your king. First, the red maned gnoll never gave battle. Perhaps he snuck into the city under cover of charm to be an assassin. Warn your king that one of Rhykal's students who can see what is unseen attend him. Second, the source of the great river is where the great spirit of the waters entered into our world. Powerful ice giants have come through it. The magic of their leaders is stronger than my own. They are sending giant warriors down the river to assault the city. Fire alone is their bane. Presently, we cannot stand against them. You must help your people evacuate and my people must go to the Tower of Conjuration. Place whatever safeguards and traps you can. But without the Hazard to place a hedging ward where the river enters the city, the giants cannot be stopped. I have seen their comings during the battle. Heed my warnings. Live."
With battle seemingly over with--though Garidan can't help but wonder at the absence of the fearsome leader reported by Niyut--the swashbuckler endures the shudder-inducing touch of Malthazir's creeping pet with the absolute minimum of visible displeasure that he can manage. After all, the prickly mage doesn't have to provide its aid, and Garidan is well aware that being ungrateful would only cause unnecessary problems among the party.
Instead, he diverts his attention by considering the dying words of the last gnoll to fall, and he makes certain that both his companions--including Niyut once she reveals herself--and Captain Foramdar are aware of them. Once the ooze has finished sponging up its tithe of blood from Garidan, leaving behind only a few neglible cuts, the young man aids in inspecting the fallen for useful trinkets and other goods, moving between Gruskorb and anyone else who looks to be doing the same. The unusual treatment given to the looted bows, however, immediately gets his notice, and he approaches the pyre with a thoughtful frown. The unexpected appearance of a small, winged being who is apparently also interested in the discarded weapons causes him to momentarily flinch back.
"Who, and what, are you," Garidan asks warily of the creature, hand hovering near his rapier's grip.