"Greens are a-flying in from the fields and a-frying in the kitchen. Be eating them with the pork," Ferglar replies. He ponders the information question, scanning the room before pointing to a dark-haired gnome with a chinstrap beard at the large mixed table. A wide-brimmed hat and a travelling cloak are hung on the back of his chair. "Bearjaw's your gnome. Scout, tracker, hunter," he adds by way of explanation.
"Ah, 'scout, tracker, hunter.' That sounds more like my kind of person." Nerissia says, ignoring the offer of food and holding a hand out to Alocer indicating that he stay while she approaches the hunter they came to see. Moving over to the dark-haired gnome single-mindedly and lacking tact of any kind, she drops her Order signet on the table as way of introduction of a fellow hunter.
"Looking for a particular band of goblins, the 'Scorchfeathers'. Ferglar mentioned that if anyone would know where they are it'd be you. Got any ideas where we could find 'em?" she says, picking up the signet and hanging it back around her neck while waiting for an answer, oblivious to what effects her appearance might have on the poor unsuspecting gnome.
The bearded gnome looks up at Nerissia as she speaks, glancing down at the badge on the table and then back up. He finishes the mouthful of chicken he was eating and puts the leg back on his plate. ”Well, you aren’t from round here,” he says. ”Most folk call me Bearjaw, though seems likely you knew that so you have the advantage of me.” He makes no indication as to whether he recognises the symbol of the Hellknight order.
”Scorchfeathers, eh?” he continues, assuming the tiefling will introduce herself in due course. ”You’re certainly to the point. Why not the Stinkbats or the Rotstumps or even the Nine Toes? Vengeance mission is it?” he asks. ”Because we don’t need anybody going off and stirring things up goblins like kicking a wasps’ nest.”
Seeing that Nerissia is not exactly making friends, Hawk saunters over to help, an easy smile on his face and patter on his tongue. ”Nothing like that! That’s a fine hat, Mister Bearjaw, where d’ya get it? I'd like one just like it, sized up for my big head, obviously. I’m Hawk Hargraves… tattooist, raconteur, and generally an amiable fellow. We’re looking to retrieve some baubles the Scorchfeathers may have stolen. Got to find them to see if they did or not. Fair to say, we aren’t looking to bring trouble to you or us.”
"Why thank you, Hawkren Hargraves," Bearjaw mimes tipping his hat at the newcomer. "Got this one made up special, but you might find something you like in Sunarinda's Fashions." He considers the request. "I don't think anyone ever goes looking for trouble, but goblins inevitably seem to bring it, sure as Shelyn is sweet. They have a bunch of caves that they call home, couple of days east of here - give or take - in the foothills of the range. The give and take is mostly going to depend on your woodcraft, but I believe your companion fancies herself as capable." He nods at Nerissia, before looking over at the rest of the party. "You think you're capable of taking out enough of them to scatter and look around for your baubles?"
”Sunarinda’s Fashions.” He repeats. ”In hopes of finding an equally admirable chapeau, I’ll stop by there forthwith! Thank you. As for scattering goblins…” he kneels down to speak quietly, eye-to-eye, with Bearjaw, ”They may not look it, but several of these folks have proved their mettle against worse – a horde of aquatic ogres among other things.”
"Tell her I told you it would suit you," Bearjaw grins. "Nah, I know a warrior when I see one and you've a few here. Not to a mention a "tattoo artist", though I'm guessing you've some tricks up your sleeve too." He winks at Hawk and rubs his beard. "Evidence of fire will probably a good sign that you're heading in the right direction. You surely already know this but the Scorchfeathers like setting things alight even more than most goblins. In the name, see. Got them some fancy magic from somewhere that throws flames around so watch yourselves, ok?"
"Aye, some of those tricks may leave even more evidence of fire. Mayhaps the Goblins'll have some peace with Pharasma, going out in a way like that." Roger accentuates the point about a Tattoo Artist's tricks.
Since the others seem to have the questioning of Bearjaw well in hand, Majara continues to chat amiably with the proprietor about the menu, and orders a glass of the house's favorite potable while she's at it. By the time the querying of Bearjaw has concluded, the ends of her blue hair have turned a bright green as a result of the effervescent brew she's been sipping. Ah, gnomish liqueurs!
assuming the tiefling will introduce herself in due course
She doesn't, preferring to keep info about her person sent to strangers to a minimum.
Her eyes drift over to the bar as the conversation goes on, and as she takes back the symbol of her order anyone who pays close attention sees that the tiefling places her three middle fingers on the three spear tips piercing the dragon of the symbol.
Turning back to the conversation at hand and ignoring the topic of hats and clothing (why get clothing made for aesthetics only?), she speaks on goblins. "Fire is not a weapon they will use very effectively against me, physically or emotionally. I think they will find us more than capable of handling a handful of the disgusting creatures. Thank you for your help." she says, dropping a gold piece on the table. Always pay your informants, you never know when you'll need them again.
Turning to her newfound party and ignoring the fact that Majara is seemingly drinking on the job, she is ready to move on. "Shall we get started then? Want a head start in case they were or are warned of our coming."
Two days of walking in the sweltering late summer sun pass uneventfully, though you pass obvious signs of goblin activity and as you approach the settlement you have a feeling of being watched, though you catch no sign of anything more than birdsong and small mammals snuffling around. You arrive at your destination round about when businesses start to think about shutting up shop for the day....
Majara gazes at Nerissia over the edge of her mug. "Well, one can hardly fault your eagerness. But it's several days' more travel to the caves according to Master Bearjaw there-- and it's late enough in the day here. We'd only have a few hours on the road at most before having to make camp out of doors-- again-- and I for one wouldn't mind sleeping in a bed tonight. I'm also not sure who you think, in Umok, would carry tales to goblins. This settlement's been nearly burnt to the ground by the bastards, and even if someone were willing to be a traitor.... for what? What rewards do goblins give? Here, have some bones we gnawed on!"
Majara smiles thinly at her own wit and has another swallow of the bubbly drink, savoring the fizz on her tongue. "Nerissia, we've known each other more than a few years now. You're an admirable hunter, and, I imagine, a fine soldier or whatever Hellknights say to each other as compliments. But it won't kill you to relax a bit."
The gnome's mouth quirks in another smile. "I'll even buy you a drink. If you'll drink it."
Hawk smiles at Bearjaw and explains. ”She’s good in a fight.”
"Shall we get started then? Want a head start in case they were or are warned of our coming."
”Not until I have a conversation with a milliner named Sunarinda.” He gives the gnome a wink, ”Have yourself a fine day, Master Bearjaw.” Then Hawk heads out into the street, looking for Sunarinda’s Fashion. If he can’t find it easily, he’ll ask a local or two.
"That's good to know, Miss," Bearjaw smiles. "And that's kind but unnecessary," he adds, gesturing at the dropped coin. "I'd say keep it and buy yourself a drink but I think your friend has you covered anyway."
As the others settle in for food and drinks, Hawk bids them a brief farewell as he hopes to find the clothes shop before it closes for the day. The colourful buildings and narrow - at least for humans - streets are a bit disorientating, and there is something of a maze-like design to the town as a defence mechanism against invaders. However, after taking directions a couple of times, the tattoo artist finds his destination. He ducks inside the low doorway just as a purple-haired gnome in an emerald-green dress is tidying the shop, ready to lock up for the night. Her face brightens at the appearance of a potential customer. "Welcome! I'm Sunarinda. Looks like you made it here just in time - what can I help you with?"
Hawk takes a moment to appreciate the complementary colors of purple and green on the lady. ”Lovely to meet you, ma’am! I’m Hawk Hargraves. I’ll but take a moment of your time, I hope. I met a fellow with an exceptional hat, named Bearjaw… That was his name, not the hat’s.” He confides with a chuckle. ”I asked where I might acquire such a glorious hat. He directed me to you. And, so, here I stand… without a hat in hand, as it were. Do you possibly have any more fine hats in my size, possibly crowned with a purple feather?”
But it's several days' more travel to the caves according to Master Bearjaw there-- and it's late enough in the day here.
Nerissia pauses in her eagerness, taking a moment to think about it. "Ah, of course. You're right, my zeal got a hold on me. My apologies."
She stares over at the bar for a very long moment (too long) before turning away without answering the offer.
"I'll...go find lodging for us." she says shakily, motioning for Alocer to follow her.
[Sense Motive DC 14]While Nerissia isn't upset at her friend Majara, but wants to get away from the presence of alcohol immediately. You can't tell why exactly, but something seems to have set her off.[/spoiler]
”Nice to meet you Hawk Hargraves. And I’ll have to thank Bearjaw for sending you this way. A hat you say? Hmm.” While she talks, Sunarinda is already bouncing around between display tables, hung items and storage containers that look like they would require serious rummaging through in order to find anything. However, despite the chaotic feel to the place, the shopkeeper seemingly knows where things are. ”We don’t get so many big folk in here so I’m not sure I’ve got exactly what you need." She jumps up onto a ladder and fetches down a few items of headwear from a high shelf. There is a wide-brimmed hat in deep navy but trying to sit it atop your head it’s clear that it's sized for a smaller wearer. ”I don’t think this is what you’re looking for but I think it would suit you anyway,” she says, handing over a beret that is sized for a human.”Yes yes, looking good. But not what we really want.” She pulls open a couple of drawers full of accessories and accoutrements. From a pile of feathers she pulls out a sizeable purple one. ”Splendid. This is more like it,” Sunarinda claps her hands.
After trying a couple more places, the gnome wrinkles her nose. ”I don’t think I’ve got exactly what you want right now but if you’re able to wait a few days I can do something for you custom. That’s how Bearjaw’s was done and you rarely see him without it so he’s clearly pretty happy. What do you think?” she asks.
Hawk replies, "I'm leaving town tomorrow but should be back in..." he weighs his suspicions, " 'bout a week, I'd guess, possibly a bit longer. Definitely no sooner than five day from now. If that works for you, it works for me, Miss Sunarinda. How much will I be owing you?"
”A week should be more than sufficient, unless you’re wanting rare materials or the like, Sunarinda says. ”If you’ll just step over here,” she gestures to a sturdy storage chest before fetching a stepping stool and hopping up onto the chest. The gnome pulls a tape measure from one of numerous pockets on her dress and wraps it carefully around Hawk’s head. ”Is it for fashion only?” she asks, ”or are you wanting something all-weather? That will help determine material.” She rattles off a number of other questions including the desired colour, the width of the brim, flexibility, and decoration, ending with, ”And finally, the flourish. Would you prefer the feather straight up or with a curve to it, Mister Hargraves? Personally I find a curve just a bit more refined but it is of course your choice. Details matter though, and that’s just a fact.”
Once Hawk has made his choices, the gnome thinks for a bit, coming to a price that factors in materials and labour. ”That will be five gold pieces please. I hope that’s acceptable for a quality tailored item and I request half to be paid up front.”
Hawk smiles at the questioning. It was novel being on the other side of the artisan/customer relationship. His answers are as fast as her questions. ”No rare materials… ‘All weather’ definitely, possibly leather. I need something to keep the rain off my head; I just want to look good whilst doing it… Colour? Deep brown or black, like most of my gear… A curve to the feather, I think. Never go from ‘refined’ to ‘over-compensatory’ as my great-aunt Anastasia always said.”
He registers the amount without a blink and drops the full amount into the milliner’s hands. ”A Hargraves always pays his debts in full. Besides, if I get et by a dragon on the road, I’d very much like for you to remember me fondly.” He adds with a laugh.
But it's several days' more travel to the caves according to Master Bearjaw there-- and it's late enough in the day here.Nerissia pauses in her eagerness, taking a moment to think about it. "Ah, of course. You're right, my zeal got a hold on me. My apologies."
She stares over at the bar for a very long moment (too long) before turning away without answering the offer.
"I'll...go find lodging for us." she says shakily, motioning for Alocer to follow her.
Majara looks bemused as Nerissia excuses herself. Ugh, tallfolk and all their various... moods. And they think gnomes are emotional!
Oh well. Time for a dinner-- and a round for any Umok-ians still in the bar, as Majara is still enjoying have the fresh payment from Pava Irrica in her pockets. The prospect of a bed for the night tonight rather than hard earth is perhaps also inclining her to somewhat-uncharacteristic generosity.
"Absolutely, and that I can do," Sunarinda smiles. "Thank you kindly, that's generous of you. I'd advise against getting eaten by anything, dragon or otherwise though. I'll leave you to the rest of your day, I need to lock up now but I look forward to seeing you soon."
"Have a lovely evening." Hawk leaves and strolls via a meandering path back to the... Possum's Nest? Coyote's Hole? Badger's Den? Well, I'll know it when I see it.
but you’re already in the best place in town given it caters to (and is sized for) larger folk
After talking around the room a bit and learning that this is the best inn, she pointedly avoids speaking to anyone else beyond whoever can get her a private room, at least until she secures one for herself and pays for each of the others to have one as well.
Walking awkwardly over to the party again once they're all together, she inclines her head in a form of parting before speaking.
"I'll be retiring to my room. I acquired separate rooms for each of us, but feel free to share rooms with whoever you'd like. Besides me."
Without waiting for a reply she turns on her heel even more awkwardly and heads to her private room to escape from the situation.
Business satisfactorily concluded, Hawk retraces his steps through the warren of streets - or perhaps stumbles upon an alternate route, he's not absolutely sure - and arrives back at the Badger's Den. The evening unfolds before you at your leisure, whether you prefer the solitude of your own company or the chance to imbibe gnomish concoctions in the taproom.
Morning arrives and it is time to take to the road once more. East of here, Bearjaw had said so that's the direction you head in. Unlike some woodlands, the Chitterwood is abuzz with noise, teeming with birdsong and life, not to mention the countless goblins and hobgoblins who call the forest home. It is hot going, walking the woods, though the tree cover is largely pretty dense and you are mercifully protected from the worst of the sun's heat.
Roger and Nerissia keep you on course and the day is pleasantly uneventful. For all the noise, which by now has simply faded into background chatter, you don't see much beyond an occasional glimpse of woodland fauna. As the light dims, you look for a suitable location to make camp that doesn't feel too exposed but you rotate watch and the night goes by without incident.
Continuing the next morning you have been going not much more than an hour when Nerissia comes to a halt at a clearing. Half a dozen goblin corpses litter the place, along with signs of fire and the accompanying devastation that comes with either battle or a particularly raucous party.
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"Well, this was either a killer party or a ... killer war party?" Roger takes a look to investigate for scraps of food that might help indicate the former.
After talking around the room a bit and learning that this is the best inn, she pointedly avoids speaking to anyone else beyond whoever can get her a private room, at least until she secures one for herself and pays for each of the others to have one as well.
Walking awkwardly over to the party again once they're all together, she inclines her head in a form of parting before speaking.
"I'll be retiring to my room. I acquired separate rooms for each of us, but feel free to share rooms with whoever you'd like. Besides me."Without waiting for a reply she turns on her heel even more awkwardly and heads to her private room to escape from the situation.
Majara observes the tiefling going with light perplexity, then shrugs. Ultimately not her business if someone wants to keep to themselves! Or to pass up free drinks.
In the morning, Majara takes a few minutes to check out the alchemical shops of Umok-- it's a town of gnomes, there is an alchemist's somewhere. She picks up two holy waters and an acid flask just to bolster her stores a little, then trots back to the inn to prepare for travel with the others.
"What do I owe you for the room?" she asks Nerissia as they are setting off.
*****
Another day of sleeping outside-- bah, roots and rocks and twigs-- before they find unmistakable signs of goblins. Majara tsks to herself and moves to investigate the nearest of the corpses, looking for signs of how it died-- the obvious fire? Or are there other wounds?
"At least some of the clan is already dead, that's helpful," she observes drily.
Daydreaming about his new hat, Hawk is a little slow in bringing his perceptive powers to task. ”That assumes these are Scorchfeathers. What if this was tribal warfare among the goblins?” He searches the battle site and bodies for any insights.
Majara’s study of the corpse finds an obvious explanation for the goblin’s demise: a meaty cut to the back, probably from a sword, an axe or another heavy bladed weapon. Looking over a few more dead goblins the wounds are similar, punctuated by a number of arrow wounds. Although some of the bodies have burns, the fire itself seems not to have been a major cause of death so much as adding to the general chaos of battle.
Behind the trunk of a particularly large tree, however, you can now see another four bodies, suggesting a slightly bigger scrap than it may have initially appeared. They have been piled up and lie charred along with some of their gear, though no weapons remain. Perhaps somewhat surprisingly the bodies are still recognisable, suggesting that the fire was either put out or just never properly caught, though a unpleasant smell of smoke and burnt goblin lingers.
After looking over the field and the bodies, he summarizes. ”Appears the Scorchfeathers got the better of the Nine Toes tribe in this fight.” He hands the chunk of amber and the curiously large bee to Majara. For some reason, he feels she’ll appreciate them. He opens the coin pouch and counts out the contents, ”Two silvers and five coppers… we have found the Nine Toes treasurer.” He drops the bag in the side pouch of his pack.
"Noted," Emma murmurs to Hawkren as she examines the scene for herself, wrinkling her nose slightly. She's not especially familiar with goblins and their various tribes... at least not the particulars. Given some of their past encounters with the buggers, she hopes that this time they'll have a smoother go of it.
Deciding to leave the investigating to those who are more apt at investigating, she keeps an eye on the area around them, lest any wandering goblins try to get the drop on them.
She does, however, decide to stop near Nerissia. "Hey there. Is everything going okay?" she asks casually, looking around the surrounding area. "I just wanted to check in after last night." She pauses, giving Nerissia a quick smile. "We're an eclectic bunch, so I imagine we take some getting used to."
"Well, with fortune and a canny eye, if we can track a proper band moving away from here, that's the Scorchfeathers. The Nine Toes'd run in a rout."
Nerissia spends the entire rest of the night in her solitary room, not emerging until the morning is here. She doesn't sleep long (a habit from her years on the road), and is waiting for the rest of the party when they make their way downstairs. Her gear is packed and she seems to be anxious to leave, her small badge twirling around in her hand.
"What do I owe you for the room?" she asks Nerissia as they are setting off.
Nerissia seems a bit offput by the question, clearly not expecting it. "Uh...nothing." she says, looking over at the gnome. "Consider it an investment on this group's future." she finally manages to get together, giving a weak smile.
Once they're out on the road the hunter is noticeably more relaxed than she was, cooped up in the inn. Several times during the trip she can be caught taking in a deep breath of the fresh air and taking a moment to scan their surroundings.
She does, however, decide to stop near Nerissia. "Hey there. Is everything going okay?" she asks casually, looking around the surrounding area. "I just wanted to check in after last night." She pauses, giving Nerissia a quick smile. "We're an eclectic bunch, so I imagine we take some getting used to."
The tiefling is again surprised at being approached, obviously not used to discussing her problems. "I uh, yeah. Everything is fine. I don't do particularly well around...crowds." She mumbles this last part, clearly omitting some important parts. Still, the paladin's words of care force her to reevaluate her position of clamming up. Perhaps it would do her good to have someone to talk to.
"Listen, let's talk about this later, okay? Tonight, I'll talk about it, but for now we have work to do and business to ensure is taken care of correctly." she says at the revelation of the battle site remains.
The route of the victors is easy enough to follow and goes largely in the direction you had been walking to this point. At one point Roger figures a couple of goblins appear to have split off but they essentially turn back on themselves anyway so Nerissia keeps you on track heading east. An occasional cry punctuates the low level hubbub of the wood but nothing that sounds close enough for any real concern.
By late afternoon you can feel the land starting to undulate under your feet but overall it is clearly beginning to rise gently as the northern end of the Aspodell Mountains ultimately lies in front of you.
This night is probably not the most restful you’ve ever had but at least you’re on alert and it passes without incident. After breaking camp the signs of goblin activity in the vicinity are hard to miss and you feel you must be getting close.
Nerissia and Roger both seem to feel that danger is imminent. Majara is much less observant than they are, but at their hint, she starts rummaging amid her gear.
"Here-- forgot to pass these out this morning." Potions are thrust brusquely at Emma and Roger alike.
For herself, Majara uncorks a small flask that smells of the forest and raises it to her lips-- then stops, regarding Alocer. "Hmmm. Nerissia, I know you won't accept money for the room-- how about a gift to make Alocer a bit more hardy in the fight?"
"Too many sunrises I've forgotten to use it at all- uncanny feeling round here, let's see it's not for naught." Roger takes the potion of shield and drinks it one handed with a good ole teeth uncorking as his other hand stays firmly on his falchion. His eyes scan around nearby foliage. Any bush could be harboring a dozen of the blighters with how small they were!
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As you carefully make your way deeper into the Scorchfeathers territory, the volume of the background chatter feels like it has been turned up. Roger and Nerissia help you pick a path through the trees until you come around a rocky outcropping to be greeted with a loud animal screech, followed by excited laughter and cheers of triumph.
A large avian creature with stunted wings is struggling to break free from a dirty mass surrounding its legs. A trio of small, greenskinned humanoids cackle and cheer as they fire arrows near the trapped bird. Overhead another goblin mounted on an oversized bird of prey circles around, laughing madly along with its earthbound comrades. They appear to be wholly engrossed in taunting the captured bird.
Emma's mind is similarly elsewhere, perhaps thinking how much she would prefer to be munching on one of Gunty's pastries rather than trekking through this endless woodland.
"YEEAARRGH!" Roger leaps into battle with an inarticulate battle cry.
The shrill sound of goblin laughter makes Majara roll her eyes. Deciding to let the others close up first, she simply sidles closer and uses a tree for cover for now.
Roger's charge is an excellent distraction.
how about a gift to make Alocer a bit more hardy in the fight?
Nerissia nods, accepting the gift and helping Alocer to drink the potion. "I'm sure he appreciates it." she says, with a sincere smile.
Once the group has encountered the goblins, she swiftly leaps into action. "Alocer, engage." she says, whispering a short prayer to her god in preparation. "Dark Prince, grant your servant your protection, if only for a brief moment to you."
"Disgusting creatures." she continues, her voice full of venom.
Largely to himself Hawk says, ”First Principles… don’t f^&k with an eagle unless you know how to fly.” He points a finger at the flying pair before sending a set of force bolts unerringly into the mounted rider. The sorcerer isn't sure if his missile can unseat a rider but he is curious to find out.
2nd Spells (4):
1st Spells (7): xx
Dancing Lights (3):
CLW (1):
Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC/FF for 4 hrs
Roger leads the attack, charging in and landing a mighty blow on the goblin, forcing it to its knees but it does not fall. With all eyes on the pirate, Majara positions herself in the shadows of a nearby tree. Alocer follows Roger’s lead but his snapping jaws only find purchase on the goblin’s chainmail. Taking aim, Nerissia lands an arrow right in the heart of the vulture’s body, causing it to screech in pain at the same time as Hawk fires a trio of missiles that thud unerringly into the bird’s rider.
In response, the vulture rider swoops over Nerissia and drops a mixture of chemicals down on her. It narrowly misses as a result of the bird's wobbly flight but she is still caught in the blast as it catches alight on contact with the ground. The injured goblin retaliates, swinging its blade - a “horsechopper” in goblin parlance - and catching the pirate. Its companion rushes into melee and also lands a hit on Roger, while Alocer’s opponent shakes off the fox but can't land a blow.
Majara slips out from behind the tree-- notes the badly injured vulture above-- and underhands a bomb in a gentle arc towards the rider and flyer, whistling lightly as she does.
Majara’s toss is almost too casual but the panicked bird is not quite as aware is it could be and doesn’t see the gnome emerge from behind the tree. A lot of things then happen in quick succession: the bomb catches the bird full in the face, immolating it and sending it flaming to the ground. The goblin pilot is quick, however, avoiding the worst of the fire and does his best to land with some degree of comfort by using the dead bird to absorb some of the impact.
Hawk stalks beneath the tree, trying to line up a fine shot. Seeing Roger battling two of the tiny cretins, he sends a trio of bolts into them.
2nd Spells (4):
1st Spells (7): xxx
Dancing Lights (3):
CLW (1):
Effects:
Mage Armor = +4 AC/FF for 4 hrs
"Listen, let's talk about this later, okay? Tonight, I'll talk about it, but for now we have work to do and business to ensure is taken care of correctly."
Emma bows her head slightly, her voice calm but understanding. "Of course. No problem."
Emma tries to get a read on Nerissia but finds herself coming up short. She doesn't know the tiefling well enough to guess at her true emotions, but the unease lingers. Emma isn’t a fan of crowds herself, so she understands the need for space. Still, the offer to listen stands—for now, she'll let it rest.
***
"Here-- forgot to pass these out this morning."
Emma reacts quickly as the potion is thrust into her hands, almost fumbling but catching it just in time. "Thanks," she murmurs, examining the liquid with a quick swirl.
"Too many sunrises I've forgotten to use it at all- uncanny feeling round here, let's see it's not for naught."
Emma chuckles softly, raising the potion in a brief salute. "Cheers," she replies, then downs the contents. The sharp citrus flavor hits her tongue, making her eyes squint and her lips pucker, only for a metallic aftertaste to creep in, though she can’t place it. "Whew!" she gasps, blinking away the sting. "That’s got a kick to it!"
***
Good thing I took that, Emma thinks as she surveys the chaos around her. These goblins are fast little buggers.
Her gaze quickly locks on one closing in near Nerissia. She spots two more by Roger, but they’re further away. The goblin nearest Nerissia is the most immediate threat. Without hesitation, Emma barrels forward, her armor weighing on her limbs, but the potion's effects give her the boost she needs to power through. Her longsword gleams as she raises it, her focus sharp as she comes to a stop beside Nerissia, ready to strike.
A bolt of force slams into the goblin Roger had hit and it teeters on its feet, swaying just for a moment before the second of Hawk's missiles strikes it and snuffs out its life. A third bolt crashes into the other - now sole - goblin fighting Roger. Emma strides forward swiftly, swinging Redemption with the same purpose and the sword cuts deeply into the prone goblin. It has taken a lot of punishment from spell and blade, fire and fall, but is still just about clinging on to life.
The axe beak brings down the large bill for which the bird is named and scrapes it against its legs, chiselling away at the alchemical mixture that has secured it in place. Having chipped off enough to free its legs it uses the fact you are occupying the goblins to run off, albeit with a slightly uneasy gait.
[b]"Well, that ole bird won't be getting it's feathers scorched!" Roger smiles at the bird's escape. Namely because he was worried it would turn on them in a panic. Before setting his eyes on the goblin with an evil grin.
"Shame." Nerissia says simply as she watches the axebeak run off to safety. Would have been useful to see it up close, but she certainly couldn't blame it for fleeing the coop as it were.
Nerissia you took 5 damage splash damage from the bomb
Nerissia doesn't even attempt to dodge the fiery blast, letting the heat wash over her hellish skin without any visible impact. "You should know better than to use fire against a devil, foolish goblins." she says somewhat inflammatory as she draws her mace to engage the goblin on the ground, swinging it down in a brutal arc towards its fragile head.
Alocer tries his best to bite at the goblin next to him again, enraged by the attack on his master.