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The air was chill and moist as the group made their way into the valley. It was so foggy that Vincent had to cast a reveal spell just to keep the party from venturing from the road.
"Couldn't we have waited a day for this fog to die down a tad? I can barely see my nose!" Pippen whined ahead to Lysander.
"You know we need that money fast Pip. We have a helluva tab at the tavern back in town," Lysander yelled back with a laugh.
"What about the people that are counting on us?" Vincent said with contempt, "Would you let more lives expire just so you can have a more comfortable journey? What kind of adventurers are you anyway?"
"Please Vince, excuse..."
"Don't call me Vince. The name's Vincent. How would you like me to call you Lys (lice)?" the priest interrupted.
The valley was calm, save the chirping and fluttering of a few birds nearby. It was too hazy to see them though. The only other noises were the gallop of the horses the three were riding, as they plodded along. It was cold, the kind of cold that bites through leather and stings a man's skin, like hundreds of needles. It was comforting to Lysander though. Back in basic survival training at the local warriors guild, the smith had taught him that the cold was an adventurers friend. "It keeps a man alert" the smith had said, "You can sneak up on a warm and cozzy man, easier than a freezing and uncomfortable one". Lysander felt that this was an accurate assumption, as he found the cold leaving him very agitated and awake, but safe nevertheless. The priest didn't seem to mind the cold, he appeared as steely as any fighter and never took his attention away from the path ahead. Pippen sat on his horse shivering something frightful. Lysander had discovered that a Gnome loves comfort, warmth, lots of food, and in Pippen's case the occasional female to snuggle up to: willing or unwilling mind you.
As the morning passed so did the fog. Along with it went the chill as well. The sun seemed to melt away the uncomfort of the valley as it rose further past the horizon. The party decided to give the horses a rest after the cold, and so settle near a few trees off the path in the valley.
"Ah! This is more like it," Pippen said as he leaned against a tree and kicked his feet up on his packs.
"Even I'll admit, it's good to stop and rest a bit," Vincent said with a sigh of relief, "I haven't traveled this much in years."
"Pip, open up the food packs and I'll get a fire going," Lysander said hungrily.
Pippen brought out the groups food stuffs and naturally set aside a choice piece of meat for himself. Lysander ventured toward some trees in search of fire wood.
"Hey look, over there! Firewood already in a nice pile, ready to light," Pippen yelled down to Lysander.
"Wha...," Lysander uttered, remembering that he saw no human or horse tracks other than theirs in the area. A freshly placed wood pit wasn't always a good sign. "Who's wood could it be, or what's?" Lysander thought nervously.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, the journey took a turn for the worst.
"Trollie trollie!!!" a voice cried from a nearby hill. It was a band of trolls, clubs ready and bows aimed.
There was little time for words. Pippen scrambled to his feet, with daggers ready. Vincent pulled his mace and shield from his packs and stood ready. Lysander was on the other side of the path, about eighty yards or so. The trolls rushed the small encampment. Pippen took the first hit, an arrow to the chest, sending the gnome reeling to the ground. Vincent cast a blessing upon himself and swung for a counter attack, crushing the skull of one of the trolls with a wet crunching sound. Vincent's shield saved him from a volley of arrows aimed at his chest.
"You ugly bastards!" Lysander yelled as he finally closed the gap between himself and the troll band.
Lysander flung his sword through the air with a spin. The blade caught the troll leader in the chest. Just then one of the trolls sent a fire spell Lysander's way, engulfing the warriors right leg. Falling to the ground in seering pain, Lysander hit the earth with a thud.
Then when it seemed like the horde would overwhelm Vincent, a voice screamed a prominent battle cry. A female warrior wearing a crusaders helmet and wielding a great sword swept down on the surprised trollish archers. With hardly a second to react the trolls didn't even have time to pull out an arrow in their defense. The warrioress swung her giant blade, cleaving the suprised trolls in half at the waist.
"Flanked ya!" the warrior yalped as the troll torsos plodded to the dirt.
The three remaining trolls, now without a leader or supporting ranged attackers, began to panic and run for the woods. Vincent placed his hands together and began to concentrate toward the fleeing trolls. The slowest received the holy retribution of a force of mind attack, utterly crushing the beasts small brain. The other two made it to the tree line as their companions head burst like a spoiled grape.
Vincent looked about to assess the damage. Lysander was laying in the tall grass, holding his charred leg in anguish. Pippen lay under the tree with an arrow sticking out of his chest. The female warrior approached the three. "Damn trolls are breeding like rabbits, soon the entire valley will be nothing but a great big trollish stronghold."
"My name is Vincent, I'm a priest on my way to Valeia," Vincent said nervously to the brawny female fighter.
"No need to be nervous, I'm not gonna rob ya or try and kill ya," she said, "Are your friends ok?"
As the question passed her lips, Lysander could only muster one thought before losing conciousness. Why'd it have to warm up......
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to be continued
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