Eltneg Wood

"Tell me again, why exactly are we trudging through the middle of nowhere at a time the gods themselves would be asleep?" Lilindir asked, indignantly blowing away the stray hair that had wandered into her field of vision.
"Well that's Cania for you," came the response a short distance ahead, "grass, grass and more bloody grass," he finished, "As for why it's so late: Well I, uh, wasn't exactly planning on the zaaps being out of service," Fyorl grinned sheepishly.

The two continued wading through the waist-high grass as the moon cast its silvery illumination over the monotonous landscape. In every direction the view was the same; endless fields, waving gently in the cool night breeze with the sound of wildlife tweeting and chirping without cessation.

"Aha, finally," Fyorl said triumphantly, pointing to a small copse of trees that had appeared on the horizon, "I was beginning to think we'd been going the wrong way."
"With your sense of direction I usually just assume we always are," Lilindir muttered under her breath, "I take it that's Eltneg Wood then?" she spoke up.
"Yup, that's the place, let's get going..."

They set off once again for the edge of the forest in the distance. What had first appeared to be fairly average-sized trees soon revealed themselves to be giant deciduouses, their branches reaching high into the inky night's sky. The canopy blocked out any semblance of light and the interior of the forest loomed in front of the two siblings like the cavernous maw of some fell beast.

At that moment Fyorl heard a yelp behind him and instantly spun around to see Lilindir standing, rooted to the spot, flailing her arms wildly.
"I can't move my legs!" she exclaimed. Realisation dawned on Fyorl's face and he glanced down before quickly leaping away as a shard of light erupted from the ground and shattered in a glittering shower. In the brief illumination Fyorl spied their assailant bounding away. He threw his arm forward and a crackling arc of orange energy leapt from his outstretched fingers. It ripped through the air, dangerously close to Lilindir's head, and struck the creature in mid-air. There was a resounding splat and Lilindir shut her eyes in disgust as blue goo spattered unceremoniously over her face and arm.
"Fucking blops," she spat, flicking some of the goo off her face and stamping her stiff legs, "Let's just enter the damn forest already so we can get this over with."
"Right you are," Fyorl said cheerily before stepping over the threshold and into the blackness.

He blinked. Silence. Only the rustling of leaves and the creaking groans of branches could be heard above them. The atmosphere was quite peaceful in the almost tangible darkness and Fyorl felt himself relax, yawning briefly and stretching his arms out.
"I can't see a damn thing," he heard a short distance behind him, followed quickly by, "oof!" as Lilindir's form collided into his back.
"Yeah yeah, give me a sec," he called back. Then, muttering an incantation, he lazily whipped up his arm. There was a bright flash and glowing plates of armour materialised in the air around him for a brief second before whirring about and thudding into place on his body with a satisfying chink. The luminescent armour lit up the nearby surroundings enough for the pair to begin making their way cautiously through the underbrush, stepping over large tree roots and avoiding thick patches of brambles as they went.

After a few minutes the landscape had changed noticeably; the trees seemed a little closer together and a thick mulch of dead leaves had suffocated a lot of the larger plant-life, leaving the ground relatively clear. Fyorl felt Lilindir stop suddenly beside him, her grip on his arm tightened and he turned to look at her quizzically. She was staring intently at a point just beyond the illumination of his armour. He followed her gaze and instantly saw what was distressing her: A single, eerie pair of eyes hovering in the gloom. He quickly flicked his head from side to side and, sure enough, there were more eyes, lots of them; all staring intently.
"Ah shit," he said, drawing the giant golden blade from the baldric at his back. He scarcely had time to ready his weapon before there was a snarl and a blur of brown fur exploded from the blackness. He batted away the first boowolf with the flat of his blade but was knocked forward as something heavy crashed into his back and sent him sprawling to the floor.

Lilindir watched as more boowolves sprang from the shadows, deep, savage growls emanating from their bestial throats. She thudded the foot of her staff into the ground and there was a deafening boom. The shockwave threw the attackers back, sending loose twigs and leaves swirling into the air in an orchestra of crackling and rustles. Fyorl leapt up and darted for the nearest wolf as it was recovering, shaking its head dizzily from side to side. He landed a brutal kick squarely on its rib cage and propelled it several feet into the air before it crashed into a nearby tree, causing the whole trunk to reverberate. He spun on his heel, ducking, and brought the serrated blade of his sword around in a wide arc, gashing a boowolf in mid-leap across the chest. White hot pain exploded in his left arm and he looked down as another boowolf, its fangs embedded deep in his flesh, looked back up at him. It flicked its head to the side and Fyorl was lifted off his feet with tremendous force and sent hurtling through the air. He landed with a whoosh as all the breath was knocked clean out of his lungs and struggled to get up, his head spinning.

Lilindir cracked her staff across the skull of a snarling boowolf that was advancing on her before turning to the huge beast that had attacked her brother. It swung around, blood dripping from its wickedly curved, stained fangs and let out a guttural roar as it took a lumbering step towards her. With a brief, flicking motion, Lilindir sent a whirlwind of tiny needles darting through the air. They surrounded the wolf, incessantly stabbing and poking at its eyes and other sensitive areas. It was instantly enraged and stomped about wildly, flailing its great arms around in an attempt to bat away the needles - but to no avail. The torment continued for a few seconds more as the giant wolf spun around and crashed into various trunks and branches, sending cascades of leaves tumbling to the ground.

Fyorl finally struggled to his feet, wincing as pain shot down his back. Hefting the unwieldy Az'tech over his shoulder he ran at the distraught boowolf, bringing the blade down smoothly and with devastating effect. It tore through fur, muscle and sinew with ease, leaving a wide, bloody gash as crimson ichor sprayed forth, flecking the forest floor in chaotic patterns. The boowolf howled in agony before keeling over and crashing to the ground with a resounding thud and accompanying crackling of a multitude of dead leaves.

"Well, if the whole of the forest weren't already awake," Fyorl remarked, slinging his sword back into the baldric, "they are now. We'd best get a move on."
"I'll say," Lilindir agreed, "I'm not looking forward to running into another pack of boowolves. But, look at your arm, you'd best take this," she said, pulling a stout little carrot from the pouch at her belt.
"Why in the nine hells would I want a carrot? I'm not particularly hungry thanks."
"It's called a Cawwot, now shut up and eat it," she said, waving the orange vegetable in front of his face. He snatched it indignantly out of her hand and took a few bites, munching curiously.
"Mmm, not bad for a carrot," he observed. Finishing it he idly scratched at his arm before looking down, bewildered, "Huh, would you look at that, my arm's completely healed up."
"You're welcome," Lilindir rolled her eyes, "Less gawking more moving please."
"I know, I know. There's a faint glowing in that direction," Fyorl said, indicating to a patch of forest, "Let's hope it's a campfire." Lilindir followed his pointing and looked beyond the illumination of his armour. It looked the same as every other direction but, squinting, she could just make out a tiny pinprick of orange light in the distance.
She shrugged, "It's not like I have any better ideas."

They set off at a fast pace, weaving between tree trunks and ducking under low branches, all the time keeping focused on the glowing orange patch in the distance. Their moccasinned feet crunched through the vegetation without an ounce of stealth and every so often Fyorl would flick his head around to check for more ominous pairs of eyes, attracted by their racket. But there were none and eventually the low grunts and grumbles of other creatures reached their ears. Fyorl stopped at the sound of these, putting his arm out and keeping Lilindir back too as they darted behind a nearby tree trunk. Peering out cautiously he was able to see a clearing a few metres ahead; the orange glow which they had been following was emanating from the centre of the clearing and now revealed itself to be a large bonfire around which the large, lumbering forms of a dozen or so Trools were milling. Around the bonfire several large stakes were driven into the ground and atop them were the roasting carcasses of gobballs. The smell drifted across the campsite and mingled with the stale sweat and musty, dank odour of the trools as it reached the two companions.

Lilindir held her nose in visible distaste, "Is dis da camp den?" she asked nasally.
"Yeah, it's got to be. I've never seen this many Trools in one place before. Here, take a look at that huge one over there," he pointed out from behind the cover of their tree, "That must be the chieftain."
Lilindir hefted her staff, a fiendish grin on her face, "I'm gonna go get me a new rug or seven!"

She dashed out from the treeline and sprinted for the nearest Trool. Whipping her staff around she dived to the ground and skidded between its legs as the Trool stood there idly, totally oblivious to her presence. Cracking the haft of her weapon against the inside of the Trool's knee she continued sliding through and hopped up on the other side. The Trool went down with a grunt of surprise only to have Lilindir's staff crash into its temple and jarringly knock it sideways. Its deep-set, yellow eyes rolled into the back of its head and it flopped down without a mumble of protest.

Her actions hadn't gone unnoticed however and she heard roars of surprise and fury as the campsite was alerted to her intrusion. Spinning on her heel she saw the flat head of a huge hammer come hurtling towards her. Ducking, she just managed to roll away before it came crashing down. There were grunts and snarls and the thudding of heavy feet all around now and she looked up, straight into the dense wood of another hammer blow, just feet from her face. In that instant, Fyorl materialised in front of her and hastily muttered an incantation. Sheets of clay and rock erupted from the ground and encased his stoic form as the hammer came down. It ricocheted off the stone shell with a spark and the Trool staggered backwards as the recoil shot down its arm. Reaching for his sword, Fyorl brought it down mercilessly in a deadly arc, slicing clean through the Trool's raised arm and sending it crashing to the floor, blood pumping profusely from the open wound.

Lilindir stepped back quickly, "Watch where you're swinging that thing!" she called out before quickly taking stock of the situation. Turning to her right she sent another hail of needles at an oncoming Trool, halting its charge and sending it veering off into a herd of its companions. Hopping back to avoid a swinging hammer blow she thrust both her arms out, palms open. Two booming pulses of water surged outwards and struck the offending Trool cleanly in the mid-drift, hurling it backwards, tumbling.

Fyorl quickly parried a jarring attack and sidestepped as another hammer came crashing down next to him. Jumping atop the hammer head he kicked off quickly, his foot smashing into the bridge of the Trool's bulbous nose, forcing its head to snap back in pain and shock. There was a high-pitched whistling noise and Fyorl felt a bulky mass slam into his ribs. The stoney coating absorbed most of the shock but he was thrown off his feet nonetheless and landed awkwardly on the churned earth. Hammer blows rained down on his prone form, bruising and battering his listless body. Inhaling sharply he gasped an incantation and glowing, incandescent blue spheres burst into existence, whirring around and repelling the crashing hammers as they came down. Each blow was blocked with a low, electrical hum and knocked back with the exact force it had impacted with, forcing the murderous circle of Trools back, stumbling. Fyorl wasted no time and leapt to his feet, darting around the Trools, hacking and slashing with bloodthirsty abandon, disembowelling and maiming the brutish monsters.

Panting with exertion he thrust his sword into the earth and leant on the pommel, looking wearily about the bloodstained battlefield. There was an almighty roar and Fyorl's head snapped up in its direction. From between spitting and crackling flames he saw the silhouette of the Trool Chieftain, head raised in fury at the sky, beating its gargantuan hands on its chest. It hauled up the wickedly spiked mace at its feet and shot a vehement glance at Fyorl. Without blinking, Fyorl kicked the flat of his sword blade and catapulted it into the air. Grabbing hold of the handle with one hand, he placed the other at his temple and closed his eyes. There was a blur of motion and he disappeared, reappearing instantly several feet in the air in front of the chieftain. Its dull eyes widened in horror as Fyorl brought the shining gold blade around in a savage arc, mercilessly decapitating the beast. In moments it was over, the head bounced weakly on the sodden earth before coming to rest. The bulky, muscular body of the chieftain swayed for several seconds before toppling down at Fyorl's feet.

He slung the Az'tech over his shoulder and back into the baldric before strolling over to the lifeless head, now staring blankly at the night's sky. Scooping it up he turned to Lilindir who was standing, striking a triumphant pose on the still form of another Trool.
"Come on then, we've fulfilled this contract, let's turn in the evidence," he gave the disembodied head a shake for emphasis, "I'll take you down to Brakmar for a nice pub meal too if you don't mention that little incident with the boowolf to anyone in the guild."
"Hah, imagine a little boowolf getting a taste of your arm like that, you're getting old!" she called back.
"Bah! And just for that I'm docking your cut of the bounty to 30%!"
"Aw come on, I saved your ass plenty of times back there. If you dock my cut, maybe next time I'll just let the boowolf finish its meal."
"Ah don't make me stuff a Kimbo sock down your mouth again, just drink your damn potion and let's get out of here, I'm getting chilly."
"Hehe, Aye aye!" Lilindir responded with a wink, uncorking a bottle of some bluish-green concoction held at her belt. Fyorl did the same and they threw back the contents of their respective bottles, disappearing in an instant, leaving only the crackling of flames and the rustling of leaves behind them.