Leaping down from the small hill in an easy bound, Grimlock closed the gap between him and the largest of the two creatures, managing to make out a humanoid figure, with mottled green skin, long, muscular limbs and a large, crooked nose jutting out at a slight off centre angle in the seconds before he brought his battleaxe down over his head and into the creature’s side. Dark liquid sprayed from the wound and splattered over the dragonborn’s forearms as the foe let out a guttural roar of anger and pain. Hot on Skullfucker’s heels, Tarkus darted off to the right in order to engage the smaller enemy, sliding skilfully on mud and dead leaves and crouching low to avoid a swing from the monster’s clawed hand, before launching a powerful attack of his own arcing up with his axe but narrowly missing the target.
Arriving at the crest of the hill and hearing the commotion of battle, Greil swung his summoned orb of light around and down into the dip, illuminating the carnage for himself and Gregg, who began a headlong sprint into the fray. Pausing for a split second, the commander wracked his brain for knowledge of the creatures; almost instantly recognising them to be trolls, regenerating natural foes with a weakness to fire. This was going to be fun…
The larger troll slammed a clenched fist down at Grimlock but was too slow, the adrenaline of battle allowing The General to easily sidestep the attack as he readied his own, Tarkus was not so lucky however, catching a glancing blow down one side, the creatures claws digging through his armour and drawing blood. Grimlock launched his return strike, connecting again and hitting hard, having given himself a valuable few seconds to wind up the swing. Troll blood sprayed into the air once again, but this time, with his one good eye, The General noticed the wound he had just inflicted already starting to close up and heal. He readied an even more powerful swing; cheaters were not to be abided.
Now enraged and feeling his blood begin to boil, Tarkus brought his axe down in a diagonal slash across the smaller troll, managing to completely sever one of its hands – his triumphant roar was cut short however as he witnessed fresh, gooey digits begin to protrude from the dripping stump, though the attack had at least stopped the troll’s onslaught briefly as it stumbled forward in pain, revealing a woman, crouched in the foetal position on the floor behind it.
Having now entered the basin with the rest of the party, Greil let loose Spyro, sending him careening into the melee where he launched a powerful explosion of magical fire, tailored specifically to avoid harming his allies. The spell sputtered out and failed to spread effectively however. At the same instant, Gregg, now several feet behind Tarkus uttered a prayer to his lord, in an effort to pin the smaller creature to the ground with an ethereal spear. His request went unanswered though, as was His prerogative.
Having seen his spell miss-fire, Greil forced himself to concentrate his mental faculties twice as hard in an attempt to divert a surge of magical energy into the flames. The effort paid off as the two creatures were engulfed in a blazing inferno, seriously wounding and igniting the larger whilst simply burning the smaller to a crisp, its useless husk of a body crumpling to the floor amidst the dead leaves.
Seeing an opportunity to end this, now that his quarry was aflame, Grimlock swung his axe in an almost 270 degree arc, beginning the wind up from behind. The troll, roaring in shock lashed out, slamming its fist into a nearby tree and snapping it neatly in two, sending the top half cascading down towards The General’s skull, the dragonborn, spotting the falling log, cancelled his attack and leapt backwards, taking a heavy hit on the shoulder but otherwise escaping.
Assaulting from the side, Tarkus flew at the flaming troll, aiming specifically for one of the still open wounds inflicted by Grimlock, the creatures healing abilities seemingly having halted. Its roar became a scream as the attack hit dead on and dark green blood spewed from the troll’s mouth, dribbling past cracked and broken teeth.
Gregg, about to whisper another prayer to end the creatures suffering, paused as he spotted Grimlock getting to his feet, and decided to let the fighter claim his trophy. Using the fallen tree as a launch pad, The General flung himself into the air, bringing his raised battle axe down across the troll’s exposed neck, and cleaving its head off in one easy sweep. He landed in a crouch beside the hulking mass of the creature’s still standing body. His trophy landed next to him a second later.