From on high Belton Harald, lifted skyward by the mystic
power of his wings of blades takes aim at the charging guardian behemoth.
Loosing a deadly steel-shafted bolt he watches in frustration as the rampaging
creature gallops to the right at the last second and dodges the attack. Sif the
stalker of the boreal mountains, crashed a heavy blow down upon the Guardian
with Barael’s Blade, the fragile blade shivering with the impact dangerously.
Quick Jim Barleycorn draws forth his climbing rope and lashes himself to the
protruding stump rising out of the creatures back like a mariner in a sea-born
gale, securing himself to the creature to have both hands free for doing
battle. Najáre the Huntress clings to the shambling mountain’s hilly back with
her ivory claws biting deep, as she hacks mightily at its exposed loamy back.
Her tomahawk bites deep and the creature loses a broad swath of its brambley
matter to the forest floor.
Blows are rained down upon the bounding, trampling creature.
Gaia unleashes waves of searing fire but the rich moist loam of the creatures
body seems to damp to catch fire. BUT, as our heroes doggedly bash and batter
at the thing evidence of their furious attacks begins to tell. The very nature
of the creature’s form seems to change over the course of the attacks and its
original verdant vitality seems to drain a bit. Leaving the ground-pounding
legs and underside dry and woody even as new life is springing from its back
perhaps to bind and entangle Najáre and Quick Jim. Sif, wielding the ancient
druid’s mighty elven blade swings true and the head of the creature is cleaved
from it’s hilly body, falling heavily to the forest floor with the weight of an
anvil.
But this plant yet lives! The loss of its head not fatal for
those of it’s leafy ilk. A new, different head sprouts as if in a sudden
springtime from it’s shoulders and again it rises to deal death to the party. With
renewed vigor our heroes attack the thing, axes smash, sabers hack and cut.
Belton smashes his full lantern against the dry logs of its underside and Gaia
is quick to repeat her barrage of jetting flames, setting alight its belly in a
roar of oil-fueled conflagration. The creature is quick to drop its belly to
the ground attempting to smother the deadly blaze. Meanwhile Najáre takes
advantage of its distraction to swing in for a telling strike terribly wounding
its forelimb. Surrounding the beast on all sides, our heroes attack with
righteous fury. The terrible onslaught’s effect is telling. The Grove-Guardian
lashes out with its writhing stump claw, snatching the saber from Gaia’s hand
and driving it to the ground, striking again it lands a powerful blow but Gaia’s
phantasmal armor turns the force of it away and she escapes the attack
unharmed. The creature again seems transformed by the ever-mounting ruin that
is being lain upon it. Again its form twists and reshapes, not in a winter
aspect, devoid of nearly all leaves and it’s skin thick, woody and gnarled.
Now is the winter of its discontent, its new natural armor
is great but it’s form is dry and woody and unprotected from Gaia’s magical
flames. It rises from its prone position to unleash it’s protectors fury and all
the doughty heroes take the opportunity to attack it during its moment of
unbalance and distraction. Axe, arrow and sword rain destruction upon it and
Jim throws down his cloak over the creatures face, twisting and binding the
heavy cloth in the creature’s spiky crown of branches securing it fast. Blinded
the thing lashes out in futility, missing it’s foes with its wild-swinging
claws. Jim follows with a rain of hammer-blows. Crashing his bal-peen iron
hammers into the things head over and over, rattling it’s senses with the
cold-iron attacks. Searing bolts of force dart forth from Gaia’s hand and her
magic missiles strike true, further diminishing their opponent. And finally,
mighty Sif, heedless of the danger of it’s thorny flailing limbs, darts in with
the speed of a cobra and swinging a wide arc, lops off this final head of the
creature, shattering the great blade into nine pieces and bringing low the guardian once and for all, ending its rampage. A quiet falls upon the glade.