There is little time for the others to wonder what kind of magical mess Scramsax managed to get himself into as they catch the transformed chipmunk-halfling's odd dance and charitable giving out of the corner of their eyes while dodging crazed giants and landing their own counter strikes.
Ingryd's initial assault misses as the raging giant steps aside at the last moment, but she recovers quickly and manages to plant her feet and deliver a crushing blow and smashes into the giant's hip.
Quinn rushes forward in the wake of the bearkin. The elf peels off at the last moment and instead of taking on the giant, drives his suddenly twin blades into the redcap's midsection. Quinn feels the blades cut deep, shearing through flesh and simple armor with equal ease. Surprised and reeling from sudden pain, the creature leaps backward in a move that likely saves another painful slashing strike from Quinn's blurring blades.
But the respite is only momentary, as the move puts the redcap and the others in an almost perfect formation for Gunnar. Stepping forward, Gunnar slaps his hands together and then splays out his fingers to unleash a cone of crackling fire. All three creatures are caught flat-footed in the fiery blast.
The smell of burning giant flesh roils through the air as two more burning rays of Khors' fire lance into the giant directly on the heels of Gunnar's blast. Although not quite as powerful as his initial casting, the holy fire still sears and blackens wide swaths of fat and flesh.
The acolyte of Khors, slowly recovering from his initial shock at the giant's sudden appearance calls upon his own holy fire, but the calling is weak and causes little harm.
As the wild chaos of combat continues, Chipmunk-Scramsax suddenly transforms back into the halfling's more typical form and ceases to toss treasure into the gathered crowd. He contemplates stealing the pair of glittering gold coins gathered up by one of the young orphans who've been living in the village ever since they were brought here from a village to the south following its earlier devastation, but still reorienting from the rapid transformation, the halfling is unable to move before the quick child disappears. Instead the roar of the raging giant echoes in his ears and he manages to duck out of sight.
Focusing it crazed attention on the bearkin battering at its side, the giant brings its maul around in a wide arc. The blow pummels Ingryd with a sickening thud. Bones snap, a jar of honeyed wine shatters, and the bearkin staggers backward. Momentarily dazed by the powerful blow, she doesn't move quick enough when the giant snaps the handle out the maul out just as it passes the bearkin's chin. The blow snaps her head back and leaves a nasty cut and swelling welt just below her right eye.
The redcap grits his crooked teeth and glares at the elf with angry yellow eyes. Replanting his feet, the bulky enforcer feints left, but then comes in hard to the right. The switch catches Quinn off guard and out of position. The blow hits the elf hard in the midsection. Air explosively vacates Quinn's lungs and for an eternity lasting three attempts to breath, nothing goes in or out. Finally, the elf's body recovers enough that he can gasp enough air to stay uprigth. And none too soon, for the redcap swings his long arm forward and nearly catches Quinn between the eyes with end of his heavy weapon. Quinn just manages to lean back far enough to avoid having the crossed sword and laurels logo on the end of the warhammer stamped in his forehead.
The third enforcer, steps toward the fire blasting dwarf. Growling a hatred that has existed between giant and dwarf since the formation of Midgard itself, the redcap swings hard at the wizard. Initially on target, the blow is suddenly knocked aside by the wizard's arcane powers. Thrown off by the arcane move, the redcap is unable to get in a solid strike.
Giant 1: 131/200
Giant 2: 149/200
Giant 3: 180/200
Ingryd took the blows, lights flashed as she blinked a bit. She growls, Her mind brought up the horrors she had suffered. These creatures were in league with a Hag. A HAG! With a Roar loud and fierce accented with the furious buzz of bees.
She shifts and swings once and then twice.
Throwing up an arcane shield to deflect the giant’s attack, Gunnar pivots around the foe adjacent to him, angling to get at least one other in a straight line with either an open space behind him or a sturdy nonflammable structure as a backstop. He then looses Thor’s lightning at the giants!
Scram tore off his sleeve with his teeth, ripping the pin off his lapel careful not to touch it with his bare hands before stuffing the foul bundle in his vest pocket. Hearing the now familiar burst of lightning crackle through the poorly insulating giant fat sent his attention back on the fight, and he quickly apparated a hot pink, razor edged contemplation of regret...hurling it into the lumbering hulk's psyche.
Quinn grins moving in again on his quarry, striking furiously at his marked foe with his now twin blades.
(psychic)
Ingryd weather's the battering from the giant. Battered but certainly not down, the bearkin unleashes a defiant roar and rumbles forward. Her mighty warhammer whirls and crashes into the gut of the giant adding a dash of witchfire to the blow. A gaseous cloud of grotesque air forcefully explodes from the giant's mouth as it in turn is forced to spend precious moments regaining its breath. Unfortunately, Ingryd isn't able to follow up on the initial success. Her foot turns on a loose stone just as she pivot to bring the hammer around again. The blow is just off the mark and swings past harmlessly.
Refocusing on the immediate fight at hand, Scramsax finds the giant's mind an open and easy target. His psychic blades burrow deep into the pulpy, mostly used brain tissue. Synapses are severed, tissue torn, and memories of growing up in the distant hills of Jotunheim are no more as blood trickles from the beast's massive nostrils.
With a fierce grin, Quinn leaps back into battle. His twin elven blades snick-snack-snick carving away bits of flesh and gear. Perhaps more importantly, his assault causes the disguised giant to shift position just enough that Gunnar's eyes alight with sudden joy. Calculations are made at the speed of thought. A sly grin crosses his bearded face. A familiar command followed by the crackle of thunder, flash of lightning, and the scent of ozone filling the air.
Thor's lance arcs out from Gunnar's outstretched hand and gleefully leaps from redcap to redcap to giant. Sizzling flesh and melding metal to metal along the way. None can withstand the onslaught of the wizard's power.
Luthael summons the power of Khors. This time, a single brilliant bolt of super charged sunlight that engulfs the giant's head, melting flesh and searing away the few remaining strands of greasy hair upon its bloody pate. Not finished, the sunpriest conjures up the bright lance of Khors and sends it charging toward the stumbling giant. But fickle Chance intervenes and the mostly blinded creature stumbles aside avoiding the floating holy weapon.
The smoldering, hulking hulk of the giant swings wildly. Lady Chance places her gnarly finger upon the scales of fate once again. Still trying to regain her footing, Ingryd isn't able to get in position before a perfectly aimed blow arcs in and takes the bearkin directly in the chest. Onlookers wince as the bearkin is tossed backward ten paces landing in the dirt street and sliding back another several paces before crashing into the fence surrounding the Descarte Brothers portal field. Thin wooden boards crack and the whole section of fence tumbles.
Adding insult to injury, the giant steps forward and brings its weapon down again, pummeling Ingryd further with a second heavy blow.
Quinn ducks away from his opponent's first lunging strike, but the second just catches him. The powerful blow hitting his shoulder. For just a moment the whole limb goes numb, but a few quick shakes and rolling motions and the elf's arm is back in the fight.
The final enemy tries once again to hit the lightning throwing dwarf. Once again as the furious flurry of flying metal assault Gunnar, he is forced to call upon his arcane defenses or suffer the pain of metal crashing into his person.
Giant 1: 44/200
Giant 2: 101/200
Giant 3: 150/200
Ingryd takes the blows and stands. She spits out some blood and a tooth as her eye has swollen a bit. Blood and spittle fall from her muzzle. Her body had taken a beaten. Her dress was torn her fur matting in a few different spaces from wounds.
"That all you got" She spits as she whirls her hammer about recklessly now, as she needed to turn the tide.
Luthael repositions to get the three threats within thirty feet and lifts his holy symbol to Khors causing a sun's brilliance to burst.
The holy lance of Khors strikes again.
Wincing a bit from the pain, Quinn remarks, "That actually hurt, you bastard." Before slashing away again with his twin blades.
(psychic)
The halfling crept from crate to barrel, watching the strikes of giants and his allys...waiting for the perfect moment to slip in another psionic assault...
...before diving under a street stall.
Gunnar’s shield spell is indeed effective, just barely deflecting the redcap’s strike (AC 24 with shield).
With the giant stepping forward and out of line for the lightning bolt, Gunnar summons another burst of thunder to envelop the three foes, saying, “Storm’s a-coming’, boys, get ready!”
If one has never seen or encountered a truly enraged bearkin, it can be a sight to truly behold. Such is the fury blazing in Ingryd's heart and eyes as she pulls herself up from the wreckage of the fence and wipes a dirty, blood soaked arm across her face. With growling bravado, she charges back into the fray unleashing a cascade of hammer blows that slam into the giant like a grizzly batting salmon from a river. The first shatters the giant left knee. Suddenly unable to hold the massed weight of its giant frame, the creature stumbles and staggers leaving it wide open for Ingryd's twisting backswing. The hammer lands with an ominous crunching sound directly at the base of the villain's back. It tries to leap aside to avoid what it can see is to be another hard attack, but its one remaining eye opens wide in surprise as neither leg responds to the remedial commands of its little used brain. Instead the giant's upper body lurches forward, feet still locked in place. It is all too much and in moments the tall bloated form comes crashing down. The remainder of the Descarte Brothers fencing is obliterated along that entire corner along with several barrels, crates, and other traveler's goods which very recently contained one hiding halfling. Fortunately said halfling is already on the move and avoids the ignominy of being crushed under six hundred pounds of giant flab.
Eyes still ablaze with fiery rage, Ingryd steps up and finishes off the struggling giant with one final blow that crushes it's skull like a harvest apple in the masher.
Feeling the giant's meager psychic presence wink out of existence, Scramsax turns his attention to the redcap locked in struggle with the recently met elf. The disguised cap wearing giant's mind makes an easy target for the halfling as he slips into the abandoned booth of Greta's Jams and Preserves. He waits a heartbeat or two and then the moment arrives. Caught completely unaware the redcap reels under the assault, eyes blinking wildly as a hand tries to brush away the blades which only truly exist within its own pitiful cortex.
Distracted by the sudden psychic assault, the redcap is no match for the quick moving, graceful dance of the elf. Twin blades flick and flash in the late day sun opening three more long red wounds in the enforcer's flesh.
Luthael and Gunnar both unleash potent magics against the remaining redcaps. The brilliant light of Khors bursts upon the scene accompanied by the thunderous arcane power of dwarven magic. The twin powers of magic pummel the disguised giants. But such creatures are hardy beasts. Surviving the fury of nature and elements on a daily basis in the harsh lands of the far north under Boreas' constant thumb. Neither emerges from the magical fury unscathed, but neither beast falls or suffers as much as a more mundane creature would under such conditions.
Bleeding, smoldering, and seared, the redcap facing Quinn starts to turn and run, but its eyes loose focus for just a moment. A heartbeat later turns and rushes Quinn. One wild swing catches the elf in the side. The next is easily parried away. As he knocks the redcaps warhammer away, the elf looks into the wild eyes of his foe. There he sees madness and rage and fear, but also buried beneath, a glimmer of regret and acceptance, almost hopefulness, of the coming killing blow.
The final redcap, stands firm, knowing the consequences of running. Once again its attack cannot get past Gunnar sturdy defenses, until it does. The blow comes as the redcap to simply knock aside Gunnar's own hammer. His defense thrown off, the dwarf's arcane shield isn't enough to hold off the full power of the redcap's unobstructed assault.
Giant 1: 0/200
Giant 2: 26/200
Giant 3: 136/200
Ingryd takes her flaming hammer and rushes in. With speed to protect Gunnar and Lutheal. With a furious roar and accompanied by a swarm of ethereal bees the Maiden strikes again hammer leading as she wants these creatures and there vile master to know she is there, that she is ready to stop them form there atrocities!!!
Neither armor nor shield block the mighty attack of the Redcap, though the damage is mostly absorbed by Gunnar’s protective ward. Still, a hard rap on the right shoulder makes it go numb momentarily.
With one of the three giants down though, lining up the other two is relatively simple. Another electrically-charged bolt of Thor’s fury coruscates through the two remaining enemies!
Scram couldn't help himself, pocketing a jar of sweet pickled gooseberries from Greta's abandoned stores in a single deft swipe. From a logical perspective, the fruits were safer there as opposed to the building itself...which had a high probability of getting crushed by falling giants. True, such halfling reasoning often only convinced its creator...but with a little luck, the bastard thief wouldn't need to convince anyone of anything.
Hearing the cracking call of Gunnar's evocation, he soon found an opportunity to make another sly assault against Narg's nasty imposters...
To his surprise, when the psychic blades danced their spider legs of the tips of his fingers, Scram felt a bit of his conscious being carried along with it. The giant's mental landscape was a craggy cliffside extending to infinity both upwards and downwards, a flurry of stormclouds hanging adjacent booming thunder and sleet.
The psi-thief quickly found an escape route into a much more base mode of thinking, one related to the simple senses of touch. There Scram burrowed his blades deeper and deeper...twisting a miner's path to the root of the giant's spinal column. The entire line across the creature's back burst and sundered with hot pink energy, tumbling and slicing again and again over every vertebrae and liquifying every nervetip. The clouds parted and the cliff fell into an avalanche as the total lobotomy was complete.
Shaking his mind back to another reality, he crept under the flap of Greta's tent towards another spot next door...
Quinn staggers a bit from the combined might of the two blows that landed on his slight frame. Shaking his head, he steels his nerves and seeks to give his opponent the final rest of death.
(psychic)
Luthael summons the holy lance of Khors to strike again.
With one down and the spectators cleared out, Luthael prays for holy fire to consume the redcaps. A quiet explosion engulfs the redcaps leaving his melee companions with their eyebrows singed.
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The angry swarming buzz surrounding Ingryd rises to a furious crescendo as the bearkin charges the redcap that just bloodied Gunnar's nose. A sixth sense of some kind tries to warn the redcap of the fur clad death charging from the opposite side of the street, but instead the jingle for Crunchy Bits that Mother's new assistant kept humming all the time occupied most the spare brain power available to the slow witted giant-in-disguise. Perhaps if that Oh, so crunchy, delightfully munchy bits Imperial snack food had never been invented, or at least if corporate manufacturer, Bloody Good Edibles hadn't decided a new marketing campaign was needed to prop up sales of the Fleshiest, fattiest, most extraordinarily tastiest, treat snack under the land. was necessary to hold off competition from Really Good Limbs and their new Quirky Jerky then the poor redcap would have turned earlier and avoided the raging bearkin's hammer intersecting directly with its face. Alas, the better case scenario was not meant to be.
The crunch of bones snapping across the redcap's face is almost immediately drowned out by the thunderclap and crackling charge of another electrical blast from Gunnar. Hammer and bolt send the second redcap staggering backward. Still upright but quite off balance. This is more than can be said for his only remaining companion.
Hearing the telltale sounds of arcane conjuring and holy prayer calling the power of the gods to intervene, Quinn redoubles his immediate efforts. The bright steel of his separated blades flashes once, twice, thrice. Each glimmer of steel is followed by a trace of blood opening up across the redcap's torso, arm, and finally a hamstring. The carving of the enemy complete, the elf nimbly stutters steps backward just before dwarven lighting slams into the redcap. The electrical blast courses through the hapless giant. Metal glows redhot, the pin on its chest melts and shatters the purple stone. Eyes melt and flesh boils and blackens. All in a matter of seconds until the smoking, stinking, corpse drops the ground and slowly expands into its natural oversized form.
Having carefully secured a jar of Greta's scrumptious gooseberry preserves, Scramsax slips from the tent just before the smoldering boot of the second, no longer shrunk, giant plunges through the stand knocking about the display and sending several delights of summer tumbling in a shameful crockery crushing mess. Seizing his opportunity the halfling unleashes his psychic scalpel upon the hapless single remaining redcap.
Finding himself momentarily looking up at the mind cliff, Scramsax can't help but appreciate the devious, ruthless, criminal masterminds, that make up the marketing departments of the ghoul Imperium. For there in grand, massive, towering, glittering, purple, red, and fleshy yellow letters emblazoned across the entire expanse of the mind cliff marking the giant's consciousness.
Crunchy Bits! Crunchy Bits! Oh so crunchy, delightfully munchy bits! Eat them up, crunch them up, just don't cough 'em up! Crunchy bits!
The snappy, happy jingle sung by a choir of cherubic ghouls, their faces animated in the cliff stones surrounding the giant flashing letters.
Scramsax completes his mental surgery, thus relieving the giant of the curse perpetrated by the marketing department of Bloody Good Edibles. Although he knows his final moments upon the mortal plane have arrived as fire suddenly engulfs his entire body, the giant breathes a white hot welcome sigh of relief as the entire cliff face begins to crack and crumble. The cursed, filthy jingle finally gone from his brain allowing him to at least face death in peace.
It isn't until much later that night, while drinking with good ole Finn at the Ice Maiden, that Scramsax starts humming a quirky, snappy, little tune.
With the foes defeated, Scramsax curiously checked his pocket containing the pin wrapped in his torn sleeve cloth...
Quinn nods in acknowledgement of fine work done by those from his visions against the previously disguised foes.
Cleaning his blades before re-joining them, he re-sheaths the blade before casting a curative spell on himself.
" Scram! Are you around? Got any booze. I NEED A DRINK?"Ingryd said as she sees her self all busted up and leans o. Her Maul it's Hammer head down in the dust.
" Nice dancing fey." Ingryd chuckles as she looks to Lutheal and Gunnar.
" How about it guys, how about we take him with us?"
The halfling emerged on Quinn's flank, appearing completely unarmed and dressed more for an afternoon hike by the riverside than international conflict. One of the sleeves on his cotton undershirt was torn completely off however.
"Heya, I'm Scramsax. Nice blade work, er, your majesty? *sigh* Whatever title you prefer. So, there's a fey exodus underfoot, hmm? That tracks. A sinister hag has this region in her hexing claws, I've seen the b*tch. Yeah, come with us, we might speak of those other 'items' in your vision...but at a safer place."
Turning to Gunnar "Got one of their pins this time. Think you can you do your pearl vision on it?" handing the bundle over. "Careful though, it has some kinda mental imprisoning dweomer on it..."
Then to everyone "I feel like we should check on Katerina...too many hands reachin' out for her right now." Turning to Ingryd "Don't worry, I rolled out a barrel of ale yesterday morning."
Quinn looks quizzically at the Bear Maiden, not sure if her comment was a compliment or jest at his expense. Ultimately deciding the former was intended rather than the latter, he says, "Thank you. You did quite a fine job of smashing their bones into paste."
The River Elf raises an eyebrow at the "Your Majesty" comment. "I don't believe anything like that will be necessary...I am not a monarch of any sort. Quinn will suffice."
"As to the exodus you speak of, yes, there have been an inordinately high number of folk using the Fey Roads out of this region. As you say, that tracks if there is a Hag in the area. I am certainly not opposed to continuing this conversation in a 'safer' place, please lead on."
With the giants toppled, Luthael turns to the acolyte, "what's your name, brother?"
"If it wasn't completely obvious, those creatures are the enemy of Khors. The Saint of the Wood is not an enemy. Do you know where any other guardsmen who sport those colorful pins are? We need to root out the enemy here in town." The prophet looks to the acolyte who has been in town longer than the Narg Nasty for information, while following his companions for a celebration of victory.
Ingryd looks down at her face partially swollen and smiles. "See you are the best Scram!"
She straightened and looks at herself. "I've not met this Saint of the Wood either, Hope she is okay with, well beat up bear kin"
Breathing heavily now that the fight is done, Gunnar checks the bodies for any identifying marks or useful possessions.
"Well-done," he says briefly to Quinn. "Information on other disguised giants in town would be good, but now that the populace is warned the purple pin redcaps are monsters in disguise, they should avoid them. Our first priority should be the Saint of the Wood, as she is now known. Let us go."
Remembering the debacle with the sword, Gunnar handles the bundle carefully, saying, ”Interesting, these pins seemed to destroy themselves when their hosts died. Good thinking to get this one first. It will take me a few minutes to plumb its secrets—perhaps when we are having our secluded discussion once we make sure Katarina is okay?”
Scram gave a smile and nod, eager to make sure Katerina and moreso Illarya were alright.
"Saint of the Wood? Are this Saint and this Katarina one in the same?" Quinn questions while following along. Pausing briefly to heal himself a bit more with another spell.
"If she is a Saint of the woods, does she have Bees for me to have and raise for Honey?" Ingryd said caring little for her stained, bloody, and torn dress. Nor did it seem her many wounds and mats bothered her
While Ingryd and Quinn banter and Luthael questions the young acolyte of Khors, Gunnar and Scramsax check the bodies of the fallen giants, all of which now show their true form. The massive corpses completely block the entire street. Bloody limbs poke into the closest makeshift market stalls, including alas, the remainder of Greta's tasty preserves. Townsfolk and hopeful miners slowly start to return to the area. Head's shaking in disbelief at the revealed giants and the destruction. Although fairly limited by the quick actions of the Narg Nasty Six, the damage is still extensive. The jam and jelly trade having been almost completely smothered in one unfortunate swoop.
Searching the first body, Scramsax manages to uncover eighteen gold coins and half a dozen silver. He also finds a thick, heavy bottle, tightly stoppered. It looks quite similar to some of the broken remnants discovered back in the meadow cave. And a pouch of Forest Hopper, Crunchy Bit's - Now with more Elf Flavor!.
Gunnar is forced to prop the second corpse up using several broken fence boards before he can locate that bandit enforcer's coin pouch. It contains seven gold along with twenty four silver. Oddly it also holds two shakers full of ground spicy peppers and a large tin of shelled walnuts.
The first acidic ectoplasmic glob lands just outside the Descarte Brothers compound. The gawky young man sporting a beret and the checkered cloak and pants that marked him being from Allain was barely able to let forth a muffled scream before his entire face dissolves under the rippling blob of eldritch goo. Others near to the unfortunate, nameless lad screech their own shock and pain as they are caught within the splatter blast of the nefarious and deadly revenge strike.
Each of the Narg Nasty Six, with the notable exception of elven Quinn, who is still a bit disconcerted by Scramsax's discovery of an elf-flavored underdark snack and having never encountered the witch-enchanted bandits before, have a moment to remember that such strikes happen in groups of three...
Scram dropped into a crouch that rapidly turned into a pounce, bounding some 10 ft to the side. The maneuver wasn't enough however, as the glob burst into droplets when gravity tore at its self-adhesion, sending one cascading across the halfling's ropey tricep. The flesh bubbled and popped and Scram let out a scream of agony "Arrrrg!"
Quinn quickly darts back away from the impact area, saving himself the worst of the acidic burns.
Absorb Elements as a Reaction to half the damage.
“Get to cover!” he yells, looking for the source of the incoming magic—if it is close enough he will try to dispel it as it arrives.
Ingryds' instincts allow her to react! As she does she notices her clothing and some gear melting and then her fur matted. She whirls her hammer and moves around to use one of the dead against as cover.
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Mid conversation, Luthael asks, "Huh? What?" The prophet looks up to get a face full of eldritch goo.
"Aaaaa!"
Gunnar looks around for the source of the eldritch goo bombardment. Much to the dwarf's disappointment there is no sign of the totem circle anywhere nearby. It appears the dastardly hag's wicked magics have long range artillery capacity. However, Gunnar, now having plenty of warning and expecting the barrage from the second fallen giant, is able to observe closely the arc, speed, and thusly the estimated flight path of the nefarious projectiles. Finding a certain amount of ironic surprise as the archaic mathematical and geometric formulas he was forced to learn back in his basic cantonal school days actually comes into use. He could see his old instructor Sir Deederhoffman nodding sagely, lowering his spectacles in the I told you so manner that is part of the basic instructor's instructional program for all of the cantonal schools.
Thanks to Deederhoffman's droning voice echoing in his mind, Gunnar is able to calculate the approximate direction and distance for the origination of the witch's long range eldritch attack. Unfortunately, it is in the opposite direction of Katerina's Temple in the Wood.
The next three globs of acidic goo pummel little more than the giant corpses and the already rather useless remnants of Greta's and her neighbor in business, Antony's Fine Footwear where The path to happiness in life, is trod by those wearing comfortable shoes. If Antony's slogan is true, then many a life will end in sadness for nary a sole has survived the giant beating and subsequent acid bath triggered by their demise. Still a bit of jam and a few pairs of shoes are little cost compared to more lives lost. And so the Narg Nasty Six are once again celebrated as heroes as the full story emerges through various witness accounts.
Any remaining disguised giants seem to have skedaddled out of town. The local Courlandian Commandant takes charge of clean up efforts, arriving only a few moments after the final glob lands with a splorking, hissing, splat upon poor Antony's. Dressed in the traditional red and white of the Courlandian Guard, the harried but efficient commander note that things have been even more hectic and disjointed since her secretary suddenly disappeared three days ago.
"Just stopped coming to work. Right after those priests in their fancy airship showed up." She says glaring at the hovering airship a few hundred yards away. "Blasted old woman was a cranky sort, but she knew how to keep things running tickety boo."
Under the circumstances new orders to be on the lookout for giants disguised as mercenaries wearing purple dawnflower pins are issued to the few regular army soldiers stationed in the area. In addition, the commander does her best to entice the other mercenary groups currently on contract in the Red Queen's service by offering a 100 gold piece per head bounty on any giants in addition to the usual offers for ghouls or other undead Imperial spies and agents.
Gunnar immediately gets out his map and marks the approximate location of the origin of the blobs. Showing it to the Commandant, he points at it saying,”Based on the height and speed of the globs, they originated from about this area—it may be where your rogue secretary/witch is currently. The new Khors temple has also been corrupted by some malign influence in the sky ship—I felt an evil presence in my mind warning me to stay away as I was trying to purge the evil influence from the head priest.”
Gesturing to the rescued acolyte, he adds, ”We were able to save only one who had not yet come under its influence. They have sent several corrupted priests to attack the Saint of the Wood, which is where we are headed now. If you can spare some people to locate the witch’s exact location, we would be happy to help when we return.”
As Gunnar explained the situation, Scram was chatting another of the Courlandians about the details regarding any 'special' bounties that might not be listed on the common board. Yep, honest curiosity from a helpful adventurer. Certainly not fishing to see if his name/description was included among them.
==20 total
"Sounds like a plan. Wouldn't mind a bit more healing," She paused and looked over the others."For all of us, as well as some booze. When we get back, definitely some booze and food!" Ingryd said still battered and bloody, but definitely ready to do more should she need to.
Quinn quietly stands by, listening to the conversation and trying to understand the circumstances he finds himself in.
"Khors can provide some healing after a short rest if required." Luthael replies to the bearkin.
"How long has the old lady been gone exactly? Is it worth searching her work and home for clues as to where she would have fled and what else she has been up to?" The prophet asks.
The commandant runs a hand through her short, salt and pepper hair. Suddenly she looks every bit of her fifty years as she listens to Gunnar's summary. Her eyes flick toward the still hovering airship and nods as if confirming something within her own mind.
"I thought that bunch was a bit...off. But they were preaching against the ghouls and I've no orders to go to war with the sun god's church, so I ordered them left alone." She say, her callused hand tapping against the pommel of her simple sword. "I've not the manpower here at the moment to tackle a bunch of fallen priests, this giant threat, and patrol for possible ghoulish incursions."
Brow furrowing in thought, the Courlandian weighs her few options and after a few moments comes to a quick decision.
"I can spare a couple of men to scout this witch circle. If it is the source of...of this mess." Her arms wave toward the slowing dissolving corpses and the destroyed market stands. "Well then I'll see about hiring someone to clear it out. The Queen's given me a bit of gold for additional sword arms to be spent if necessary. Seems like it is getting necessary."
Turning her attention to Luthael and his questions about her missing adjutant. She shakes her head. "Already been through her papers at headquarters. She was always a bit cagey about where she lived or went after hours. Said she had a small hut just outside of town. Not unusual. A bunch of locals have moved out because of the sudden influx of folk. Most to some inn just a half day or so further northeast. But none of my men ever found her place. Of course, if you're friend is right about this arcane attack, maybe we will soon. "
"Evil hag, I want its HEAD!" Ingryd Growled as she gripped her hammers handle it flared to life for a moment the simple wisps of flame going red to a brilliant and bright blue before settling back down.
"Sorry, just... never mind" The bearkin says before letting a hand come up to hold her necklace.
"So off to check the saint, then the hunt for the hag is on" Ingryd said with a vicious smile. One that showed an inner fire at the mention of the Hag Hunt.
"Actually, she's probably not really a hag. We think she's a terrible, ancient Elven who secretly put her sister into a coma for millennia. Regardless, she deserves to permanently leave Midgard." Luthael is ready to save the Saint of the Wood from deranged Khorsmen.
The commandant is clearly surprised and more than a little disconcerted to hear that her former aide may have in fact been a powerful creature of evil intent. I knew I should have taken early retirement when I had the chance last summer. The thought is clearly expressed in her eyes and the droop of her shoulders for just a moment. Then being an old campaigner and still, some might say surprisingly, bound by honor and duty, she continues to supervise the clean up and sets about revising the security of the small town.
With immediate plans made, the Narg Nasty Six pile onto the Nasty Rug and make for Katerina's Temple.