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Gathering at the west gate of the Tempest Treetops’ large hedge wall, Cire’s class of twelve milled about waiting for the two instructors to finish making arrangements with the guards. Calix’s white hair was pulled back into a tight braid giving his already angular face more sharp points. He was speaking to some of the other elves and no doubt casting aspersions in Cire’s direction.

For his part, Cire tried his best to ignore the teenage antics of the elf who was no doubt many years his senior. Fizz, Honeydrop, and Dimitra were embroiled in their own debate, but it had little to do with the patrol they were about to embark upon. Dimitra, a tawny haired wood elf, fit in with their band of outsiders.

Most of the elves enrolled in the academy were the sons and daughters of the nobility. Dimitra was a commoner whose adventurer parents had scraped together the exorbitant fee to enroll her for a full twenty year session. Her brusque nature often put her at odds with the residents of the pillars, but they had endeared her to their small clique.

“You’re yanking my tit Fizz. There’s no way one of your relatives completed a territorial quest. Those are harder than my calluses.”

Honeydrop did a barrel roll as she flew quick, yet somehow lazy, figure eight patterns in the air. Her dragonfly like iridescent wings glinting in the dawn’s golden light. Bursts of giggles trailed in her wake at Dimitra’s comment.

“They did! My mother helped! She made the bridle Spurglepop used to ensnare a pegasus!”

“The Plain’s of the Pegasus quest hardly even counts as a true territorial quest. Might as well brag that they caught a puppy with an expensive leash. One day I will hunt down the a stag of shadows.”

“Do puppies fly? Do they live thousands of years?” Fizz grinned and continued picking at his nails with a dagger. “Do they get passed down to their great, great grand nephews?”

At that moment, Eliana clapped her hands together immediately silencing the idle chit chat. Her companion instructor, Obelius, wore loose fitting brown robes cinched in various places with cords. Obelius’s manner of dress reminded Cire of when Maisy had come to entreat with the naga on his behalf. The simple fabric the man was outfitted with practically hummed with power and his staff actually did, at least when he cast spells.

“Students, gather round. We will be splitting into two groups on our way to the Scorched Oak of Storms. This is not a race, nor a competition. You are here to demonstrate your competence, nothing more. Do not displease me.”

“Yes teacher,” Responded the pupils, practically in unison.

“We will be watching all of your actions. Try not to disappoint us.”

Obelius tugged at the ends of his long blonde mustache, his tired voice wavered as he admonished them. Then he swept his green crystal topped staff outwards and pointed it at the hedge wall. Chanting rapidly, tendrils of soft green light grew outwards from the crystal forming leafy vines of pure energy. The vines wove through the tight branches and leaves of the wall before spreading them apart one stem at a time. It was like watching someone unthread a cross stitch.

The guards were ready and waiting, as if the wall had held back a pack of blood thirsty beasts. Only dark shrouded forest greeted them with eerie quiet. Their party reassembled on the other side of the hedge and Obelius released his spell, letting the plants crawl back into place.

Moving west, in the same direction as the Swift Run River, the class split into two staggered parties. Obelius lead Cire, Fizz, Honeydrop, Dimitra, Lander, and Philip while Eliana split off with the others. Lander and Philip were both heavily armored, with thick suits of plate hiding most of their features.

Zipping ahead and flying at a break neck pace, Honey scouted for the party. She constantly disappeared into the canopy and popped back to relay approaching terrain conditions. They hadn’t gone more than a few miles before she returned with larger news than which direction to turn.

“Myrmekes! A whole nest of them!”

Obelius shook his head. He began waving his staff in a small series of repeating circles.

“No reason to engage them, we will go around. Which direction will be easiest to avoid the monsters?”

Honeydrop crossed her arms in an obvious sign of disappointment. However, she flew straight up, buzzed to the left and then the right, before dropping back down.

“Closer to the river there seem to be less of them.”

Walking with his sword drawn, Cire picked his way through the underbrush carefully. Following behind him, monitoring their rear, Fizz walked several feat back. The vampire was curious, he didn’t know what a myrmekes was, and Honey had been pretty excited.

“Hey Fizz, what is a myrmekes? Why aren’t we going to fight them?”

“Giant ants the size of dogs. They’re not aggressive, Sir Pointington. We’re not out here on some collection quest, we are doing a patrol. We don’t start with adventuring requests and assignments until we pass this. Most people don’t join the adventurers guild until they don’t need babysitting. It’s a quick way to die. I bet Honey just wanted to mess with them because they are huge bugs.”

Dimitra shouted back, she had obviously been listening from a distance and didn’t seem to care if she was heard.

“Why? Does Honey not like bugs?”

“It’s a fae thing. Fairies and Pixies are like Light and Dark Magic. There’s a lot of overlap, but they are fundamentally different. Fairies are more similar to the sentient species of the world; gnomes, elves, dwarves, and the like. Pixies are more like beasts, particularly the insects.”

“Okay, but why does that mean she wants to mess with the giant ants? Do Fairies and Pixies hate each other that much?” Cire asked.

“It’s not hate, more of a rivalry? They’re fae. We live so long and we’re connected to the magic of the world in ways most species can’t even conceptualize. Most of us don’t think of the folk from this plane in equal terms.”

Fizz finished explaining and punctuated his last sentence by throwing a dagger into a nearby trunk. As they passed by the tree he pulled the blade free, then slipped it into a sheath on the back of his forearm.

The party lapsed into quiet travel after avoiding the myrmekes. They had skirted along the outside of the sprawling mounds the ants had skillfully constructed. After a few more miles they stopped seeing any sign of the ants, but that turned out to be more worrisome than relief.

Long rents gouged into the trunks of several trees marked the hunting grounds of something far more dangerous than the insects. The party gathered around a twisting oak with claw marks over a story up. Lander removed his heavy helm, revealing sweaty black hair plastering his scalp. He peered at the marks and ran a gauntleted hand over the marred bark. Looking back to Obelius, he offered a supposition to the teacher.

“Might be a dire bear, but I think it’s a timber troll.”

Nodding sagely, the instructor replied, “In point of fact. Likely only one, unless it is a female with offspring. What should we do?”

“Take it out. They are too violent to leave this close to the walls. It must have just claimed this area, otherwise a previous patrol would have,” Fizz astutely observed.

“I’ll go find it!” Honeydrop’s words were all that remained as she took off through the trees without awaiting confirmation.

Frowning as he watched the fairy depart, Obelius tipped his head to Fizz and the others.

“Trolls are intelligent enough to construct rudimentary dwellings and build up a strong force in a quick amount of time. It only takes a few in this forest. We don’t wait for the adventurers guild, unless the situation is too dangerous for a patrol group. If that happens to be the case, I will take us around it and send a report in to town.”

Dexterously winding her way through the lower branches of the forest, Honey made her way back to the party. She hadn’t been gone long. By the time she was speaking, most of the students were already shedding packs and travel equipment.

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“It’s up ahead! Big ole dark green guy, nasty looking teeth.”

“Philip and Lander up front, Cire and I will swing out to the sides. Dimitra, go wild after we engage. Honeydrop, provide support as needed. Trolls regenerate fast, cut it up bad so we can torch it.” Fizz rattled off the instructions with haste.

Cire ducked into the trees and made a wide circuit out to one side. Moving through the brush was much easier without armor encumbering him. Uneasy without any truly familiar companions, Cire cautiously crept along, suddenly very wary of his vulnerability.

Picking his way through tight branches, the sun elf worked carefully into place under the cover of a large bush. He managed to not give away his position by shaking the shrub. Ahead of him, in the center of an aspen grove, crouched a revolting creature.

Ripping large chunks of flesh from a freshly slain deer, the massive brown-black troll gobbled down its prize. The thing was easily two stories tall and its disproportionate branchlike arms were tipped by intimidating scythe shaped claws. Mostly bald, it’s bulbous head showed off patches of stringy black hair.

Buzzing flies accompanied a stench reminiscent of pond muck mixed with excrement. Cire adjusted his stance and valiantly held in the contents of his stomach. Running a finger along the warden’s bracelet of identification, he activated the function by passing a small shock of mana through it. Overlapping with his vision, a translucent status sheet appeared before him.

Biographical Information:

Name: Nak’vek

Level: 19

Experience:

Lineage: Troll – Timber

Class: ???

Alignment: Vile (+1 Chaotic, +4 Evil, +3 Bad)

Languages: Drutheon

Stats:

Health: 323/323

Mana: 38/38

Armor: 16

Strength: 17

Dexterity: 7

Constitution: 19

Intelligence: 6

Spirit: 14

Charisma: 5

Luck: 11

Resistances:

50% Earth Resistance

25% Physical Resistance

-75% Fire Resistance

-50% Acid Resistance

Aspects:

Filthy

Indefatigable

Abilities:

Focused Miasma: Upon a failed Constitution save, target creature will become sick and unable to take any action except movement for 1d4 turns. Can be used once per day.

Enhanced Regeneration: 10 hp per minute, can regrow lost limbs

Traits:

Wretched Stench: All creatures within a 5’ radius of the troll must make a successful save against poison or take 1d4 damage per round.

Natural Offenses: Bite – 1d8 (Piercing) damage + 1d6 (Poison) for 3 rounds, Poison Claws – 1d12 (Slashing) damage + 1d4 (Poison) for 3 rounds.

Natural Defenses: Bark skin provides protection equal to medium armor in most areas.

Large Creature: -25% to Charisma, -25% Intelligence, +25% to Strength, +25% to HP.

Cire could only use the identification function once per month. While it hadn’t revealed anything additional about the skill book stashed away back at Sunset, this time it proved rather valuable. Even if most of the information was intuitive, Cire was thrilled to actually have insight into his opponent before he had to fight it.

If he had been by himself, or even with his friends from the valley, Cire would have run. If he had been as adept at using his skills as when he had left the valley, he would have run. None of that was the case, he gripped his sword and readied to fight.

Metal on metal rang through the woods. Nak’vek whipped his head around looking into the trees. Clang! Steel struck steel again. The troll stood to it’s full height, dropping a gnawed deer haunch to the ground with a splattering thud. Belting a tree shaking roar, the troll lumbered in the direction of the sounds.

Covered in glimmering plate and holding a massive tower shield, Philip shouted a mighty bellow. Infusing the air, streams of mana laced through the clearing. The stalwart heavy armor user’s skill bolstered the confidence of his allies and taunted his enemy. Philip jumped forward and slammed his shield into the ground and braced for collision.

Three long strides and the troll clashed with Philip. Throwing it’s shoulder into the tall shield and using its leverage to push upwards, the monster launched Philip backwards using its mass alone. Flying quickly past the timber troll’s bulbous wart covered nose, Honeydrop emitted a massive burst of erratic sparks. Nak’vek swiped and clawed at empty air.

Crunching under the impact of a heavy war hammer, the timber troll’s knee exploded. It toppled like a chopped tree. Lander caught a thrashing set of claws across his armor as he delivered the attack. The poison coated nails didn’t penetrate. He cocked his arms back again readying his two handed war hammer for another swing. That’s when he started choking. Puke filled up the inside of his helmet and sloshed around in the visor.

Dimitra ran past the vomiting front line screaming like a hell razor. Raising her massive axe high overhead she brought it down hard. The troll’s leg severed at the injured knee. Slicing across her armor and peeling the leather, the trolls thrashing arms drove her back. Splashes of fresh red blood dripped off wicked claws.

Shouting as he ran, Cire pushed mana into his hand readying his attack.

“Lots of Poison! Watch out!”

Knives punctured the troll’s body, but didn’t stay in place long as it immediately started healing. Dodging a low swipe, Cire jumped over a grasping appendage. He pressed on. Surging forward with his next step, he drove his sword downwards. An arm came up to block, and Cire’s blade sank halfway through troll flesh, meeting bone. More small blades whipped through the air piercing the trolls gut.

Wrenching his sword free, Cire leapt backwards and threw himself into a roll. By the time he was on his feet, so was the troll. It stood on a fresh sprouted limb still coated in a sheen of goopy foul smelling blood. Cire didn’t know how long he had spent in the things stench, but he could feel the inflicted poison chipping away at his health.

The party’s assault was chaotic and uncoordinated. However, it was effective against the outnumbered foe. Philip and Lander got tossed about frequently, but managed to guard the remainder of the group from most direct attacks. Attacking from a distance, Fizz would reposition himself after each volley of thrown projectiles. Cire and Dimitra landed powerful hits as they skirted around the edge of the trolls reach.

It was Honeydrop who truly saved the day. Not only was she a constant distraction, but her magic enhanced most actions taken by the attackers. It wasn’t by a lot, but when their enemy kept healing, it added up.

Dimitra chopped off the damaged arm that Cire had struck with a clean blow. But when she retreated flecks of blood and phlegm coughed from her mouth. She took out a small potion vial and quaffed the contents hurriedly.

Managing to mostly dodge a rush by pivoting to the side, Cire got clipped by the troll. Instead of trying to recover, he went with the spin. Mid-revolution he planted his foot hard and infused it with mana. Cire was launched horizontally past the monster’s gut and his sword landed a clean slice, practically disemboweling the wretched beast. Hot steaming blood, bile, and stink splashed over Cire as he tumbled to the other side of the clearing.

Conflicting desires washed through Cire like competing eddies on a smooth lake. His vampiric hunger, egged on by his injuries, growled and struggled deep within his blood. Although, the utter revulsion encouraged by the foul smelling prey tampered down any idea of consuming the thing. If Durg’s blood was almost unpalatable, what would this thing taste like? Even though his classmates knew he was a vampire, it would be a different thing entirely to viscerally demonstrate through action.

Gurgling growls alternated with disturbingly high pitched screeches and whimpers as the team set forth dismantling the downed timber troll. Only Honeydrop and Fizz kept their distance as the others swarmed the beast. They took off all it’s limbs, and finally its head. After dousing the whole mess liberally with oil, Honey flew low over the corpsereleasing sparks that ignited the disgusting pile.

Lander in particular graciously guzzled down the antidote potions that Cire passed out to anyone who had gotten close. Cire didn’t need an elixir to heal up, letting his regeneration wash away the toxic stink that had invaded his pores. There wasn’t really anything to harvest from the trolls remains, singed and crisped as they were. Dimitra poked around in the ashes with her axe.

“Shame we torched it before collecting any blood. That stuff sells pretty well to alchemy shops.”

Obelius stepped into the small clearing and clapped his hands once.

“Gather round students, I have critiques for each of you. Miss Cinnamonswirl, please resume scouting ahead. We should leave this area promptly. There will be plenty of animals that are drawn by the smell.”

The party set out again, picking their way through the forest. Obelius spent a small amount of time reviewing the short battle with each of them. There would be plenty of encounters on their way to their destination, both planned and unexpected.

By the time they arrived at the Scorched Oak, they had several stories to share with their peers. Many of them were brimming with confidence after their first true taste of action. However, none of them were prepared for what was to come.