Hoard of the Mountain King

OoC: Okay, here we go! The participants in this thread are (in no necessary order) myself, Drammor, Power Shot, Daru, VenomousNinja, Halcyon Hero, and king daphnes. Let's do this thang. I'm using Frey.

BiC: “Disgusting.”

Frey spat out the ale, getting the foul brew all over his cloak. The assassin grabbed the pint and walked back over to the barkeep, slamming it down on the bar. The tender did not react, and merely continued to clean off a few dirty dishes.

“’scuse me, sir, but do you have anything that doesn’t taste so much like piss?”

The bartender did not look up to Frey at all. “It’s the only ale we’ve got. Stores’ve been running low lately. Apologies, lad.”

Frey rolled his eyes. “Fine. How much was it?”

“Three red.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Three red, or you can do what I’m doing.”

Before Frey’s temper got the better of him, a short, stout man in a roughspun cloak placed a small ruby on the bar. There was a pause as the bartender’s eyes trailed over to the gem.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“You needed three red, right? Here’s a ruby.”

Frey looked at the man incredulously. The barkeep grabbed the ruby and looked at it, before nodding back at the man with approval. The man laughed, and slinked off out the door.

“Wh—” Frey stuttered at the barkeep. He did a double-take to the door, then to the ruby in the bartender’s hand. Wordlessly, he then darted out the door after the short man.

Outside, he found the man standing next to a nearby doorway, sipping something out of a wineskin. Not seeing anyone else around, Frey approached him.

“You there, short one.”

The man drew back his cloak, revealing a balding old head. “Is that really the way to treat someone who just saved you from dish duty?”

“Had he made a fuss I would’ve cut his throat. Now, tell me where you got that ruby.”

“Well, what’s your name, for starters?”

“I don’t think you heard me correctly. Where did you get the ruby?”

“I like to think I can talk better with friends.”

Frey grabbed the man by the collar and thrust him up against the wall.

“You don’t need to know my fucking name. Tell me where you got the ruby.”

Even with Frey’s hostility, the man remained nonchalant.

“A dragon.”

“A… dragon?” Frey said, dropping the man.

The man smiled. “A dragon. Do you know of the mountains northeast of here?”

Frey nodded.

“There’s a dragon that’s deep inside there. He sleeps upon a vast hoard of gold, silver, and gems. A fortune for a thousand lifetimes.”

Frey chuckled under his breath, resting his hand on his dagger’s pommel. “Oh, really?”

The man nodded, and withdrew his open purse; within it were hundreds of tiny rubies. “Yes. Here’s proof.”

Frey looked down at the purse in awe, struggling not to snatch it. However, there was something about the man’s attitude that prevented him from doing so. “There’s something in that hoard you want, isn’t there?”

“Whatever do you mean?” the man asked.

“Why the hell else would you be telling me this? You’re holding out at least ten thousand red worth of rubies in there, wide open.”

The man laughed. “Clever.” He outstretched his hand, pulling the purse back within his cloak. “Damien’s the name. I’m a treasure hunter.”

“…I’m Frey, and Frey has a very hard time believing that a short old man like you is a treasure hunter.”

“Aye, I am. And it just so happens I did lose something in that mountain. I had finally found my way into the sleeping dragon’s hoard, and was scooping up this pile of rubies. The dragon began to stir, however, and I dropped a much-valued pendant of mine—it’s not so much the price that I value as much as the sentimentality—and I fled. If you care to, I can loan you a copy of my notes, and you can head into the mountains in search of the hoard. Take all you like, but if you see my pendant, please bring it back. I’ll have others to help you.”

Frey looked to the northeast. Over one of the shorter thatched roofs, he saw the mountain range looming in the distance. “I’ll have an entourage?”

“I’ve been gathering people to help get my pendant. Telling them they can take all they want from the dragon’s hoard is quite the deal-sealer.”

“I can take… as much as I want?”

“All you can carry.”

Frey unsheathed his dagger and spun it around in his hand, pointing it northeast. “Take me there.”

Damien ecstatically agreed, and led Frey out of town. For a few hours they trekked through local foothills, before finally stopping at the entrance to a mountain pass. Damien handed Frey a small book.

“That’s a copy of my notes on how to get into the cave,” he said, “and from there, how to find your way to the dragon’s lair. There’s also an image of my pendant within. Now, I’ll return shortly, I have your partners on hold around these parts.”

Frey took the book and stuffed it in his cloak. “Will you not be coming with us?”

For the first time, Frey saw fear on the Damien’s face. “I… dare not enter that place again. Fear would… fear would get the best of me.”

“Oh,” Frey said, laughing, “so that’s why you’re giving me partners.”

The man smiled halfheartedly, and walked back down the trail.

OoC: GOD I am so out of BA shape… Sorry for the suckiness. I think that since our first posts here don’t affect any other characters but our own, we should just post in whatever order we care to until the first cycle is complete. Then we’ll just go with that order.

OoC: Sweet. Cool.
For all who care: I'm using Iro. Link's in sig.
BiC:

After finishing a seemingly epic battle with a very, very, scary looking girl, Iro set off to the mountians. Mostly to escape the scary wrath of the scary girl who can turn into a scary-spider thingy... Yup, Iro was scared.

He was almost at the top, near a fort of some sort, when he heard somebody talking, nay, yelling. "My pendant! My pendant! No!" Iro, being somewhat helpful, walked around the edge of the fort and met the yelling man.

"Anything wrong?" Iro asked timidly. He stared upon a dwarf. Dwarfs scared Iro. Not as much as the scary girl, but, still, they were scary.

"Yes, something is wrong." The dwarf turned to Iro, "See, I just attempted to steal from a dragon," Iro quickly rolled his eyes before returning attention the dwarf, "and, well, I sort of lost one of my most valuable possessions."

"Mmhkay..." Iro nodded, then asked, "Can I help?"

"Why, yes, yes you can! You can go in there and battle the dragon."

"Okay, and how would I go about this, 'battling'. I mean, c'mon, I'm twelve years old."

"Yes, true, however, you hold many powers, as well as that staff on your back."

"Oh, yea, that, I almost forgot." Iro finished in a sarcastic tone.

"No need for sarcasm now! Anyway, I will be forming a team for you to travel with, so you are not alone. Just, wait here for a few hours."

"Okay."

"Now, where exactly will you be waiting?" The dwarf asked.

"Here. Well, more specifically, right around the corner. I'm tired, so I'm gonna take a nap. Wake when you come back and I should be ready to have others fight a dragon for you." The dwarf laughed, "I wasn't joking." Iro added quickly.

"Oh." The dwarf seemed shocked, almost, "Well, in any case, I shall awake you once it is time to be awoken."

"Mmhm. Very descriptive. I'm gonna go take my nap now, okay?" Iro pointed to the corner, and then traveled behind it. He laid upon the soft, grassy ground, and slept. It wasn't hard to get to sleep this time, which was odd for Iro. He was usually haunted by the sight of ghosts and ghouls taunting him and threating him. It was odd, but very welcomed.

A few hours later, he heard the voice of the dwarf again. "Wake up."

"Eh?" Iro opened his eyes softly, "Oh, uh, okay." He slowly got up off the ground, quickly shook himself around, and then traveled to the front door of the fort. He looked upon about four other beings. All of them, more than likely, older than him.

The dwarf then looked at him, and said four words that shook Iro.
"I'm not a dwarf."
OoC: I hope you like it! This'll be fun!

Ooc: Using Meteora (sig) . . . it seems him and Frey have something in common. . .

Bic: I can't believe I am exterminating another cheating husband. The black cloaked assassin thought as he lept from roof top to roof top, eyes focused on the victim below. Well, thoes angry women do pay well! Meteora grinned.

The chubby victim stopped outside of a house and walked right up to a dark window.

"Go ahead, give me proof fat boy." Whispered the half-elf to himself.

The man knocked three times on the window then a light came on inside the room.

Meteora nocked an arrow and slowly drew back his bow. "show..me..proof.."

A figure came to the window and slid it open. It was a beautiful blonde lady with nothing on but her night gown.

"Sorry buddy, your wife is brunette." The assassin spoke while releasing his arrow.

The arrow made contact with it's target, as it usually did, piercing the skull of the plump man. The women instantly let out a blistering scream.

"Time to go." Meteora said to himself while hopping off the back side of the building he was on, landing in the ally below.

The half-elf walked to the corner of the building and peered around, making sure he was unseen. Letting out a sigh, he pulled down his hood and leaned against the wall.

"Nice shooting there lad! . . . Don't you have to go collect some sort of bounty now?" Asked a short hooded man.

Meteora jumped and then quickly tried to act like he knew the man was there.

"I always get paid before my job sir. For I do not fail. You should watch who you sneak up on."

The man quickly replied, ignoring the threat. "Oh,. . . Well tell me sir. Is it difficult to shoot an unsuspecting, overweight, drunken man?"

Meteora threw open his cloak, revealing the hilts of his dagger and sword. "Bite your tongue old man! There has simply been a lack of jobs lately, but you are in luck! I shall kill you for free!" His face grew a shade of red.

The mysterious man only chuckled and asked. "Do you always treat your customers with such hospitality?"

Puzzled the assassin cooled down and spoke. "Customer? have you a job for me? Wait, first show me the money. As I told you, I get paid up front."

"This is slightly different then what you are used to sir. You will get your money, but it will have to wait until the job is completed. You see. . . I want you to go get an item very dear to me, and while you are there you can make yourself as wealthy as you want!"

"Oh! Ok, great! . . Get lost old man! You are nuts!" Meteora exclaimed mockingly.

Before the half-elf could turn and walk away the man pulled a purse from his cloak and revealed a handful of brilliant rubies.

"Will you listen now?"

Meteora couldn't help but to stare in awe. "Go. . on. . "

Clearing his throat the man began. " First of all I am a treasure hunter. Damien's the name. I got these rubies from a place that has more gems and gold than any man could ever need! However, there is a mighty dragon there."

"Where!?" Interrupted Meteora.

"In the mountains northeast of here. . . Please, do not interrupt me. As I was saying, I have ventured there not too long ago. While gathering what treasure I could I must have disturbed the dragon. In a big rush to get to my exit my dear pendant was lost from me. I need you to bring me my pendant, you can keep whatever else you want. I will be gathering more people to help with this mission, for the path can be very deadly. You guys will be given copies of my notes and a picture of my pendant. What do you say assassin?"

After a brief pause Meteora spoke. "I will accept your job good sir, but keep in mind what will happen to your life if you are lying."

"Excellent! Please wait here while I gather others." The odd man ran off through the ally.
---------------------------

A few hours later The man came back to find Meteora in the same spot he had left him.

"Come. Follow me."

Damien led Meteora out of town and finally to an entrance of an old mountain pass.

"Here you are sir, and these are your companions."

The assassin looked around and nodded.

"Well, I am ready."

Tierra Nena had come to this town on the rumor of a small, privately owned library which sold academy books at a slightly inflated price. Minor extortions aside, Tierra had been forbidden to join her local mage’s academy, and therefore had never been schooled in “proper” arcane magic. To her, the chance of this rumor’s veracity was more than enough to summon her there. It was a chance to teach herself the same things Acadnia’s school would not. She found the library within hours of her arrival, and paid the attendant there a rent of the library’s sole guest room. Two mornings following her arrival, she was found by a most peculiar fellow.

“Miss Tierra Nena?” an aging, masculine voice asked from behind her.

Startled both by his sudden appearance and that her addressor knew her name; Tierra nearly dropped the book she was perusing. Setting her jaw, she turned around to face this man. She discovered him to be a short, balding gentleman, dressed in the manner of a low noble or privileged commoner. He fiddled idly with a fat pouch on his belt until he caught Tierra’s burning glare. Quickly, yet casually, he went on, “My name is Damien, and I’ve been looking for you. I was told by a-n… acquaintance of mine that you’ve a sweet tooth for adventure.”

Tierra nodded slowly, her gaze intense. “Keep talking,” she said.

Wisely, the man did, “And that you have a manner of discovering things no one else can, no matter how hidden.”

“So you think I’m some kind of wizardess you can hire on to your cause?” the woman asked.

“Oh, well… no, actually. The way I hear it, you’re more like a tomb thief.”

“What else did your friend tell you?” The adventuress’s tone was low and grave, carrying the threat behind it with perfect clarity.

Damien swallowed hard and fiddled with the bag on his belt more quickly, “That you wouldn’t take the job for just any pile of jink.” The man reached in the bag and pulled out three gemstones – one red, one sky blue, and one black. He held them between his fingers, enticing the woman with them.

“Your friend must be an augur, Damien.” She smiled at him and gave him a slight nod as she turned around again, going back to her reading. “One whose auspices you have clearly misunderstood.”

Damien blinked in near disbelief, as the gemstones he’d produced could easily purchase a small estate or a score of good quality slaves. “I see,” he began, “you must not be in this for the money at all then—”

“How astute of you,” Tierra interrupted. “If you want my services, you’ll come up with magical lore, or the location of it.”

“Ah!” exclaimed Damien, “Then it seems we can do business. The job will most certainly pay in such knowledge.” Tierra turned around again; her eyes were skeptical, but Damien went on, “This is not a normal job. You’ll be retrieving a most precious object for me… from the den of an old dragon.”

Almost imperceptibly, Tierra’s cheek twitched. If the man did know the location of a dragon’s hoard, it would most definitely contain information on the dragon’s forays into the realm of magic, perhaps even its research in full. “What object needs retrieving?” she asked.

“A pendant of mine. It’s golden, and it looks something like a shield. It’s got a silver chain on it. Please bring it back to me.”

“Fine. Just tell me where I’m going.”

“To the mountains northeast of here, with a group of some other folks I’ve been looking for for the task. A dragon’s a powerful thing, you know… wouldn’t want all my eggs—”

“Let’s get a move on,” Tierra interrupted the man again. She closed her book and replaced it on the shelf, and then followed the man out of the library. The better part of two hours later, they arrived at the beginning of a mountain pass, where a small and motley crew of other hire-ons waited.

OoC: Now, I shall be using Elrick, who shall be in disguise until I say otherwise. Such compliance fills Power Shot with happy feelings and causes him to change his pants.

BiC:

Hardly anyone noticed the floating sword.

Oh, one might assume that, if anyone had any sense they would notice a giant, six-foot blade floating along the skyline as delicately as one might expect a leaf to, but such was not the case. Perhaps one child saw it, but was hushed by her mother for telling tall tales. Nevertheless, the sword continued on its merry way, soaring above the ground in a clear defiance of physics until it came to a slow stop atop of a church. Upon reaching said church, the sword laid itself flat on the roof, and it became quite apparent that someone was lying on its surface.

His name was unimportant, but it was quite interesting to the man, as he rose from his transport, that he should even be touching a church. As a carrier of one of the most unholy artifacts in the universe, he found it quite odd indeed he should be allowed on holy ground. Maybe he had been behaving well recently, he thought with a snicker, and considered that. Living in sin with another, having a demon sword, being a generally disliked person by the human population at large…no, good behavior was probably not the reason. He stood up, and stretched as best he could. See, it appeared that he was quite the cripple, with a doubled over back and shaky limbs. But, despite his weaknesses, he picked up his gigantic sword with the ease of a child picking up a twig, and sheathed it on his back, creating even more of a hump on his frail back. The cripple smiled, it was difficult to see much of his face due to the red cloak he was wearing over his body and the accompanying hood that was draped over his face. However, he seemed quite able to see where he was going, and proceeded down the steps of the cathedral to the outside world.

He stepped out into the graveled streets. Few people were out and about, give the time of day, so he had no problems with navigating the streets and staying away from prying eyes. He could be quite the private man, thought the cripple, or he could be quite charming. But it had been such a long time since he had been incognito, and this town itself seemed quite filled with sin. Which of course meant a vast horde of churches. Which meant he would not be wanted. Oh, he wasn’t Lucifer, if that was what one might be thinking, but he was fairly high up the chain when it came to religious distain.

He was about two blocks away from the church he had exited when he came to a small stop. An elderly man, possibly as frail as the cripple himself, was standing in his way, making things difficult for the hunchback to proceed. “Excuse me,” said the cripple, with a frail and flimsy voice, “could you do a weakling like me a favor and let me pass?”

Unfortunately, this was a favor that could not be granted, as the elderly gentleman shook his head and stood his ground. “Pardon me, sir,” said the man, and bowed his head lightly. “I was wondering if you would like to embark on a quest with some new friends of mine.”

The cripple furrowed his brows, then laughed. “I’m sorry,” coughed the crippled swordsman, “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong idea about me. I’m just a cripple, with no care for adventures or quests. Might do better finding someone else to do some dirty work like that.” He cackled, and turned to leave, but was grabbed by the man, who squeezed the cripple’s shoulders, revealing powerful muscles.

“You don’t seem that crippled to me,” countered the stranger. “Seems to me you just like disguises for the soup kitchens.”

The cripple chortled. “Farthest thing from it,” he laughed. “Just like the feeling of being hunched over in disguise in a town of strangers.” The two shared a chuckle, then the cripple decided that, if nothing else, he might as well listen to the man to pass some time. “Walk with me, sir, and tell me about your little adventure. Mayhaps my old bones might be willing to do something like that, for the right excitement.”

“I am seeking adventurers to find a horde of treasure,” explained the gentleman. “It involves a dragon, and a mountain.”

“Doesn’t everything these days?” asked the cripple. “I’m afraid my realm of excitement is far greater than this quest.”

“Surely not,” retorted the man, and brought forth a small satchel filled with treasure. “This, and much more, awaits people willing to embark on this adventure.”

The cripple scoffed. “I have no need for treasure, but I know of someone who might enjoy it.” He, of course, was thinking of a slightly moody pirate, to whom beautiful jewelry might be just the kind of gift to make her happy and special. Especially if won from a dragon. “Maybe I shall join you.” The gentleman clasped the cripple’s shoulders again, and proceeded to lead him through the town, towards a group of people standing quite aimlessly at the entrance of an old mountain pass.

“Ah,” said the cripple, rather as an afterthought, “what is your name, stranger? I like knowing who I work for before I do anything.”

“I am Damien,” answered the man. “And you?”

“Ah…I believe I am known as Red,” murmured Red mysteriously, and joined the group, his knees shaking.

“. . . You’re drooling,” the short, balding man remarked flatly. “Really, it’s getting on the floor. And my shoe.”

The gypsy quickly wiped his mouth with his sleeve, straightening his back as he mentally slapped himself. “Sorry.” Juicy tidbits tended to cause an overproduction of saliva in the colorfully-dressed man. Dragon, treasure, adventure . . . juicy, juicy tidbits. He wiped his mouth again.

“So you’re interested then?” Damien prompted, nudging the gypsy insistently.

“Oh, quite.” His one eye gleaming brightly, Kestrel rubbed his hands together—discreetly. Treasure was all good and well. Dragons were fascinating. But what really caught at the musician was the sheer potential. This was classic stuff! Band of heroes goes to the mountain, fight the dragon, get the treasure, and have a parade. Missing out on this would be like . . . missing out on . . . on . . . Well, hell, it’s missing out! Ah, the song potential!

“Good, good! Then, if you would just wait here—the mountain’s not far, you see—I’ll return for you later.”

“Say no more! I shall prepare for the trip until you do so!” Kestrel took a look down at himself. Scrolls, pens, ink, sword, knives, cloth, thread, needles, buttons, water skin, bread, meat, cheese, and more. “Ah . . . bags! I need bags for the treasure!”

<====}=0 – 0={====>

The gypsy awaited the treasure hunter’s return, a large pack stuffed with smaller bags and pouches snug on his back.

“Ready?” A smile was on the man’s face, and similar grins marked the faces of those behind him.


OoC: Short but sweet. And if everyone could be so kind as to email me their characters . . .

Dybia was walking down the street feeling pretty good because he had just bought a new leather sheath for his sword Enola. He had it strapped to his back, even though he usually just kept it on his belt. Dybia was dressed a little differently this day. He was just wearing a sleeveless black shirt and blue jeans.

"Man, I'm getting older but I feel great," Dybia said putting his hands behind his head while he walked. Today was Dybia's 47th birthday, and he had no idea what to do. He kept walking down the street until he stopped when he bumped into a short bald man.

"Sorry guy," Dybia said starting to walk away from the man.

"Hold on, you seem like the type I need," The man said keeping Dybia from leaving, "Would you be interested in a bit of an adventure?"

"Hm? Well, you've got my attention baldy," Dybia said perking up at the mention, "What did you have in mind?"

"Oh, just a bit of treasure hunting in a dragon's cave," The man said making it sound even more interesting.

"So, what would the catch be for this? What do you need?" Dybia said.

"I just dropped something in there that I need back. The rest is yours for the taking. I'm sending others as well, so I hope you can share," The man said.

"Well that just depends how much will be there to share." Dybia said wondering what would be there, "Ok, it sounds like fun. I'll go"

"Oh there will be plenty, but I'm not going to get it myself." The man said, "By the way, the name's Damien."

"Dybia. So where am I being sent to?" Dybia asked.

"To the mountains northeast of here. You should meet he others off in that direction."

OoC: Sorry for waiting to post.

OoC: SORRY I’M LATE PLEASE FORGIVE KTHXBAI

BiC: Frey looked about at the warriors around him. A cordial bunch… He stood up on a rock and looked down on them. “Hey. You people.”

The group looked up to the assassin cloaked in green. Frey cleared his throat. “There’s treasure in there,” he said, pointing towards the mountain pass, “and I mean to get it. If you’re here to get in my way, leave.” He withdrew Damien’s notebook. “I’ve got Damien’s notes, so I’ll be leading the way.”

One of the group members spoke up. “And what is your name?”

Frey hopped off the rock and headed up the pass. God, must everyone ask for my name? “You don’t need to know it.”

As he headed up further, he could hear the group talking amongst themselves, introducing one another. Frey did not care in the least; all he cared for was the money in the dragon’s hoard.

The mountains soon grew misty, and the overcast sky grew a darker shade of gray. I don’t like this place, Frey thought, I don’t like it at all. There were darker sounds, too. A constant clicking could be heard from bugs within the trees and crags, and occasionally a wolf would howl in the distance. Nothing bode well here.

Turning a bend, Frey stopped. There was an awful, horrible sound coming from ahead. A beast had perhaps been wounded and was moaning as it died, but it did not seem likely. He grabbed a tot and held it in his hand. As the group approached him, he spoke.

“There’s something up ahead.”

OoC: Sorry that sucked so much but I wanted to get something up. Also, feel free to post in whatever time you want. Like, you don’t have to post directly chronologically after mine. Your characters have to meet eachother somehow! xD

Who died and made this guy leader? Meteora thought as her stared at the back of the green cloak up ahead.

The assassin did not like following someone else's lead, nor did he like traveling in a group. In fact, this whole mission was quite out of the ordinary for the half-elf. Meteora walked slightly off to the side of the group giving the occasional nod to one of his companions if they stared too long.

The farther they hiked, the sky seemed to grow a deeper shade of grey. The sound of the wind had completely faded and the sounds of creatures great and small grew louder. The assassin pulled down his hood and gripped his bow tightly. He could hear the others still talking amongst themselves. Rolling his eyes, the half-elf loosened his grip and tried to relax.

Just then Meteora nearly bumped right into the back of the green cloaked man.

"There's something up ahead." He spoke.

Meteora's eyes searched the path ahead to find out what the man was talking about. Then a sound came. One that must have alerted the man just moments before. It was the scream of a dying animal.

"What's going on?" Meteora asked as he stepped forward. "I will take point and see what that is."

With that the assassin nocked an arrow an ran ahead of the group. When he turned a corner no more than fifty yards from the group the path opened into a huge circle still surrounded by forest. What the half-elf saw next nearly made him loose what little food he had in his stomach.

Two forest trolls where fighting over a very large deer. One held the front legs while the other was tugging from the back two legs. They fought and pulled the deer every which way. The whole time the poor animal was letting out ear piercing screams of pain. Then, with a crunch and a horrible, undescribable sound the trolls completely ripped the deer in two. Like enormous children they both seemed satisfied and sat down while sinking their teeth into the carcass.

Meteora forgot he was supposed to be sneaking and was watching the trolls eat in complete disgust when one of them spotted him.

"No. No. I am nice. I don't want to hurt anyone." Meteora tried to talk his way out while the troll stood and his face grew a shade of red.

The troll must have been five times the size of anyone in the group and smelled worse than anyone could imagine. The assassin drew back his bow.

"Sit down creature!" He ordered.

The troll only advanced gripping it's part of the carcass as if it were a large club. The other finally noticed the commotion and started at the half-elf as well.

Meteora released his arrow and watched as it landed right between the eyes of the first troll. The troll did not even slow down. It was as though he didn't even know there was an arrow sticking from his skull.

"Uh. Guys?" Meteora spoke softly to his companions as if they could hear him.

A darkly clad man of their party ran ahead of them, turned, and then stopped. He seemed to be perplexed for moment, but then he raised his bow and fired a shot. The man did not seem very impressed with the result, and looked back to the party with uncertainty branded on his face.

This was accompanied by the bellowing, bestial cry of a troll. Depending on one’s location in the world, or which world a person was standing on, the language of the troll could ordinarily be comprised of anywhere between eleven and one hundred and fifty words. Considering that the brain in the troll’s head could be compared to a kidney bean swinging on a string in a classroom able to seat one hundred students, even eleven words was an impressive feat. This word (which meant both “food” and “kill”) was spoken in the aggressive flexion of the forest tongue. This manner of troll was renowned for its great strength, its stamina, its ability to regenerate, and its ability to ignore pain. Apparently, forest trolls can even continue fighting after decapitation, so other, more visceral means of debilitation are required to bring them low.

Tierra had also never seen a forest troll in real life, although she was familiar with a few other varieties. With luck, the tactic would be similar.

Drawing her warhammer from its holster at her side, Tierra darted ahead of the party and stepped around Meteora from behind him and then his left. She flipped the warhammer over in her hand and issued a bloody, guttural cry at the oncoming behemoth as she began her charge toward it. “Challenge” and “dominance” were both intoned by her flexion. The exact sound of her voice at the moment supported her facade of masculinity.

Tierra’s many capes and cloaks billowed out away from her, making her seem larger in the trolls’ eyes, and therefore caught its attention away from the assassin behind her. The troll answered her challenge in like fashion, and then swung its bloody club down at her as the two joined at last in melee.

Tierra shifted her feet away from her feint, dodging the troll’s club as she weaved between its legs. She lifted her warhammer skyward and cut a gash that spewed blood from the beast’s groin to the top of its right buttock with the dagger blade atop the hammer. Her adversary roared and spun around to its right, swinging its weapon from overhead again, while she dashed to her own right and cut a slit across the troll’s belly. Both wounds oozed blood, but the troll hadn’t even noticed.

While her opponent recovered from its own amateur attack and swung back at her again, the adventuress grabbed the troll by its passing arm and heaved herself onto its shoulder, trailing a new line of blood up its gut and chest as she ascended. As soon as she was on its shoulder, Tierra kicked Meteora’s arrow in half and stomped its remainder deep into the monster’s head. The troll swung its half of the meal overhead as Tierra leapt into the air – this move was unexpected.

The jewel on her throat flared with a spark like candlelight and thrummed against her neck. Her focus changed in an instant. She planted her feet against the side of the deer and somersaulted over it roughly, her warhammer already holstered. With her other hand, she threw a healthy spray of white powder down at the beast beneath her. This white substance sizzled violently as it met each bloody portion of the troll it could, forcing wounds open wider as flesh literally melted away from its touch, starting with its face and eyes.

The other was troll approaching quickly.

Landing on the ground in front of the troll, Tierra reached into the pouch on her hip again, and drew out another handful of the reagent, throwing it at the monster’s gut and groin as she ran past it, back toward the party.

Iro watched as two of his fellow adventurers were fighting a giant troll.
"Hmm, gruesome." Suddenly, the troll fell with a giant thud. It shook the ground. Iro lost his balance and fell. "Ow."

He looked again at the battle. The troll's skin was melting. It now looked dead. The female fighting the battle looked up, and then ran back, past Iro. Another troll appeared around the corner."Crap."

Iro got up, wielded his staff, and ran at the troll, jumping up and kicking it. He flipped around the cut the troll's neck almost into two, with a fresh line of blood leading right up the middle. The cut was deep, so the troll should be easy to finish off.

The troll kept walking. Iro landed on the ground, and was attacked. He kicked off of a while up at the troll, stabbing it in the head with his staff. The troll's skull was thick, and his staff did not go far enough in to kill it. He kicked off of the troll, pulled out his staff, and flipped all in midair. He cut the troll across the right arm this time.

The troll was still standing. It should've been in pain. Iro did not know what was happening. "Damn it! Someone get over here!" Iro yelled back at the others in anger.

OoC: Apologies for late posting.

BiC:

The cripple did not like trolls…not in the slightest.

So, as Red hobbled into the fray, he felt he needed to be quite careful. For one, t