Jak's arrow takes the hysterical troll right in the stomach and Jawn quickly summons a fan of fire to stop the wounds from healing.
the look in the troll's eyes changes from one of mania to sheer rage as the fire sears it skin snapping it out of the ensorcellment of the spell. The creature scrambles to get up as mounds of detritus fly all over the place. It opens its mouth and a raw feral sound almost freezes you in your place from the pure vehemence it directs at all of you.
It swings a claw at Gilhaut! The priest is able to put his shield up in time to absorb the impact!
The creature ignores Nesserin and Herrick and staggers towards Jawn. The smell of the burning troll is almost nauseating. With its second claw the creature tears away the cloth on Jawn's sleeve almost ripping Jawn's arm off in turn. Then like a ragdoll it yanks the wizard toward its mouth tearing its teeth into the flesh around Jawn's shoulder triumphantly!
Nesserin strikes on sheer reflex as the enraged troll charges the mage.
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Get that Wizard up! We're dead without fire!
Gilhaut fires a bolt of searing light into the troll, while crying a paean to Ascheillus.
(Disadvantage due to melee)
He then draws upon his war priests resolve and attacks with his sword...
(Bonus Attack. Advantage due to guiding bolt)
Edit + crit
Edit... Shit!!! It's the next attack only, not everyone
-------
1st-level evocation
Casting Time: 1 action
Range: 120 feet
Components: V, S
Duration: 1 round
A flash of light streaks toward a creature of your choice within range. Make a ranged spell attack against the target. On a hit, the target takes 4d6 radiant damage, and the next attack roll made against this target before the end of your next turn has advantage, thanks to the mystical dim light glittering on the target until then.
At Higher Levels: When you cast this spell using a spell slot of 2nd level or higher, the damage increases by 1d6 for each slot level above 1st.
Nesserin swings as the troll leaves its flank completely exposed. The blade cuts a gash along the troll's calf. Ignoring Nesserin's wound the troll moves on almost ripping Jawn apart trying to pay the wizard back for the searing pain he has inflicted.
Gilhaut watches as Jawn passes out from the manhandling of the troll only to be bit again by the troll. As the blood begins to drain from Jawn's shoulder it starts to pool under the unconscious man's feet.
Sensing the peril of the situation Gilhaut sends a spell that blasts the troll right in the middle of the back the force of the spell drops the troll to its knees leaving it in a vulnerable position. Drawing his sword back Gilhaut guides his blade straight through the very spot where his spell hit. With a gasp the troll drops but even still the troll's body can be seen to slowly regenerating from all the wounds.
With the troll down and no time to lose Nesserin rushes to Jawn's side. He beseeches Kel to restore the mage who stood in stalwart defense of his comrades.
"Someone start a fire, burn the body!" calls out the tiefling who is apparently more than just a mere warrior.
Jak drop his bow and shrugs out of his rucksack. He opens it and grabs a flask of oil. "Who's got a light or a torch? Is it faster for me to douse him with the oil?"
"I have oil as well, Sire Jak. Let us watch him burn. Barbecued troll, perhaps?" Malthus chuckles, grabbing the molotov cocktail and lobbing it over as gracefully as he might (not very).
Herrick is not one for subtlety. He simply strides over to the troll and hacks at him with all of his might while the others busy themselves with finding fire.
"Here! Here! Try to heal that, you monster!"
Gilhaut also busies himself hacking at limbs and body of troll alike...
Nesserin rushes over to Jawn and looks at the left side of the wizard's upper torso. Painted black and blue Nesserin watches as Jawn's body begins to convulse as the body starts to go into shock. Whispering a name he places a hand on Jawn's bitten shoulder as a soft warm light surrounds each of their bodies. Slowly Jawns wounds begin to close giving the man just enough energy to open his eyes as he slowly tries to rises.
Malthus grabs an oil vial and stuffs it with a long, dry cloth looking around for an appropriate light. On the ground Herrick continues to hack away at the troll mindful not to let it the opportunity to rise again.
Jak also grabs a flask yet it seems noone has a tinder box.
Gilhaut moves back
Jak is about to light Malthus' fiery cocktail when Jawn summons the strength to get to his feet. He invokes one word and a fan of fire leaps from his hand setting the creature on fire. A hideous shriek spills out of the troll's mouth finally growing quiet as the fire ends it life.
Looking down at the heap of dead troll you see that attached to a cord, serving as its belt, is a small sack. The sack although black from the two bouts of Jawn's flame appears to be still usable.
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Herrick does not take anything for granted and proceeds to fully decapitate the troll with his longsword, dropping his shield and switching to a two-handed grip when he has trouble severing the creature's tough tendons.
"I ... REALLY ... don't ... want ... that ... thing ... standing ... up ... agian," he remarks between blows.
Herrick eventually stops hacking away at the smoldering remains of the troll. The shrieks from the mushrooms can still be heard but you nothing more seems to be heard in the background.
Cole holding the reins of the mule moves towards the rest of the group his eyes resting on Jawn who is rubbing his mended arm. "That one seemed close. Good thing that you did whatever you did Nesserin. Ne'er took you for a priest or whatever you are."
Nesserin shakes his head. "Not much of priest I'm afraid. My goddess' power is but a whisper these days at anyrate. But I...We stand to defend the realm until her Return."
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"Even a troll cannot resist a bit of crude humor, sires." Malthus sucks the oil from the molotov off his fingers.
Well chaps, overall I think we did well but... if it's all the same maybe we should move on and find a place to rest..., the priest says as he takes up the shinged sack from the trolls belt.
As the group decides on where to go next Gilhaut opens the sack and finds it hold a scattered collection of goods.
3 yards of fine brown silk (?? gp)
a plain gold cup too small for a halfling to get a good drink (?? gp)
a large piece of carved white rock. The carving is two hands long and is the
head of a man with an aquiline nose and thinning hair. (?? gp)
an iron mace studded with pointed spikes longer than a finger that is tangled up in thick white yarn all around the mace and its spikes
a small shiny round metal cylinder with a cap that holds toothpicks (?? gp
Scattered across the bottom are 19 silver nobles, 25 copper shields and 2 pale blue gems (?? gp)
The lair sounds like a good idea as long as we don't make stew of the beast while we rest!
The party backtracks to the shrieking mushrooms finding them now quiet. Looking about they start to fan out hoping to find the tracks in the soft surface.
Nesserin scans the ground for troll tracks. Unfortunately the spores in the area irritate his eyes and he comes up short.
"No luck over here. What about the rest of you?
While Nesserin looks about unsuccessfully with his attention more focused on giving the shrieking mushrooms a wide berth. Jawn quickly catches sight of a large clawprint impressed on the muddy earth.
Calling everyone over he leans upon his staff and points. The print seems to head off to the northwest and you cannot be sure how long they go on for. Still the battle with the troll has taxed you all and taking the time to rest might serve you all better.
Heading of along the tracks you follow it for just about a quarter of a bell when you are almost at the edge of the mound. The tracks seem to head off into the water. You are about to consider following it when you hear a large snarl echo through the swamp. It sounds much like the troll before but this time it is deeper and louder. It originates from somewhere ahead of you but you can not be exactly sure where.
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"Just what could it be now? There are times when I think we will never reach this well." Malthus sniffs the air curiously.
Malthus looks about and apart from the loud snarl the marsh seems oddly quiet...
Cole tries to stifle a cough "Maybe its mate? From the things I have heard troll rarely live alone. That must be one looking for it?" Cole's eyes dart about looking for another troll to burst out of the trees. "Follow the trail if we want to reach this well. Told ya it was two days travel from where we rested last. If we want to go hunting for trolls well then that way I guess." he points in the general direction of the loud snarl.
"Time to go? Do we want to press our luck?" Jak cannot believe they would chance another troll.
Nesserin give Cole an unimpressed look "You waited till now to share your toll expertise? Come on fellows let's get gone."
"I don't study the beasts, but a tracker needs to know how many critters he's likely to see! Aint much good if you run from one and the other is waiting to eat you next."
Herrick begins pulling Cole and the mule in the opposite direction from where the sound is coming from, not bothering to wait if either of them is ready to leave.
"That's it. Done with trolls. No more trolls," he says as Cole sputters against his strong grip and eventually gets himself turned around to walk beside him.
I'm all for a glorious battle but... not today. No. I think we best move on.
"Indeed. Let us not tarry," Malthus pulls out his lute and begins to play his best journeying jingle.
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Leaving the sounds in the distance you quickly hasten from the area and pick up the trail leading to the well. You notice Cole ever now and then looking over his shoulder but thankfully nothing else transpires from that.
Now back on the trail with the threat of the troll only a distant possibility the next couple of hours pass by without incident. During this time you pass by a towering tree that easily spans over the height of six men. The great tree is on land, but the other side of the immense trunk is surrounded by green swamp water. The branches, some bigger than many individual trees, spread far overhead.
Cole smiles when he sees it, "We're just over a day's travel now. This tree here marks that."
Continuing on a few more miles down the trail you see the sun is slowly dropping leaving you with a couple more hours of travel you estimate. Ahead you watch as the path travels alongside a stream for a space, and rises up out of the mud a few feet, creating a ledge down to the water of about 8ft. Although the trail is clear and the stream is obvious, the plants along the stream edge are very dense and difficult to move through.
From the ridge you can hear the happy squeals of several piglets running about 40 feet in front of you. Catching your scent the piglets look up at you curiously until a huge sow snorts sending them all away into the bushes. You listen as the sow grunts angrily in your direction standing its ground.
Herrick looks at the pig and her young and shrugs, turning to the others to see if they can reach a group decision.
"So I've nothing against pigs, and she's only protecting her little ones," he mutters with uncharacteristic empathy. "Want to see if we can just scare her off? You know, make a lot of noise? Females tend to be vicious defending their young, but I'm guessing she'll run off of we make a ruckus."
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Nesserin crouches down and rolls a morel of food the sow's way. He leverages his knowledge of nature to coax the protective mother to let the group pass as they are no threat to her or her young.
A pity we don't have some boar spears and apple sauce... or aren't in better health, mused Gilhault as he watches Nesserin work his animal magic.
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You are certain that when Nesserin approaches the sow the tiefling will be mauled down by the boar's great tusks, but instead the sow takes no offence to Nesserin getting closer. It snorts a few times and when Nesserin throws some food its way it moves over to it and begins to sniff the food at first and starts to chew it.
Seeing that he has the sow's attention Nesserin throws some more food away from the trail. The sow and her piglets chase down the food and begin to gobble it up quickly affording the rest of the party time to get past the sow without any threat of danger. As the last person passes by him Nesserin throws one last ration at the sow and slowly backs away joining up with the party.
Traveling until the sun begins to set you watch as the hanging moss and drooping tree branches part to reveal a small clearing next to a moving stream of clear water.
The sound of the water can be heard moving as it swirls past a small statue of a man in the stream channel. Fashioned from dark marble, the figure is carved with an ornate suit of armor, sword and shield. Lichen and moss cling to its base, swayed by the motion of the water rippling past. Even a few golden fish dance beneath the sunset dappled surface as the birds sing a cheerful song above.
If that were not enough you watch where the choking torrents of green slime and brackish water do not touch, as if it’s protected by magic or another force – even the air smells fresher here.
"We made good time 'ere. This would be the best place to rest. It's safe we'll not be disturbed here. Not sure what makes this place so safe but I am not one to tempt fate. Done that already and it did me no good. Alright set up camp. Tomorrow we'll be by the well and an end to my curse." Cole then begins to unload some supplies from the mule helping to prepare camp.
Jolly good I too feel the need to rest.
Nesserin notes curiously "A strange sanctuary, this. You are right Cole to voice caution I'd not want to be the one who disturbs this fragile peace."
Herrick helps with camp prep without complaining. "Say Cole, did people used to live here? I'm guessing so, judging by the statue. What kind of people were they?"
Malthus plops down and begins to prepare a bedtime snack without including ogre or bear meat this time.
"Say Malthus," Herrick mutters as he begins to strip off his armor and sidle up to the bard, "you traveling musicians often hear strange stories. Know anything about this place or the people who lived here? Seems pretty strange to build a town in the middle of a swampy forest."
"A traveling musician?" Malthus chuckles. "The only traveling I had done in years past was between my bed, my writing desk, and my mother's kitchen."