In the glow of triumph after having defeated the insidious Tatzlewyrm in its own lair, our heroes tend to the wounded Gaia. Tense seconds pass as our heroes wait to see if she will succumb to the awful poison of the Dragon-kin's bite. With cries of relief, our heroes exalt as the moment of danger passes and her Musetouched, Azata-blooded body shrugs-off the toxic venom. That danger having passed, Gaia hads herself over to the tender ministrations of Sif. Her knowledge of battlefield healing arts is put to the test against the four, 4-inch deep fang wounds. Stripping off Gaia's gaulded leather armor she brings forth her healing kit from her pack and applies pressure and good, clean bandages to the punctures, stitching up the worst of the parted flesh to allow for the bodies own healing and then treating the sutured wounds with herbal pultices and gingerly appluies a soothing compress filled with numbing juices to ease the pain. Belton moves in after Sif, with faithful prayers to his beloved Desna, he summons up the beautiful, golden light of healing divine power and gently massages this life-giving prana into the wounds, the holy energies rejoining split tissues and sealing closed shattered bloodways. Having done all that they can do, they step away to give her space and open air to rest and recuperate. Sif carries Gaia into her tent, laying her atop her own and Gaia's sleeproll for extra comfort. She then posts herself at the door of the tent to sit in vigil and guard her wounded friend. Foregoing sleep and comfort in her concern for her sweet companion. Inquisitor Belton, mindful of the hanging bodies Gaia showed him amidst the top of the tree branches, flies to the top of the Forest Elder, alighting on the narrow branches and examining the corpses. They are indeed foul with the stink of days hanging like strange fruit from atop the tree. Putrid flesh seeps corruption as he searches through pouches and pockets and removes outer gear still hanging from the bodies. Among the best of the finds are good, sturdy weapons, a People's Army ( http://westfell.blogspot.com/2014/02/military.html ) musket with shot and a half full powder horn. Short, Andoran 'ambuscadier' swords sometimes called Jackswords. And some knives and Varisian-styled throwing axes in the fashion of the Shaori Tribesman known as Tomahawks, a common weapon of huntsmen and woodsmen of the Darkmoon Vale. Finally, he seeks and with his Inquisitor's nose for hidden truths, finds the lair of the Tatzlewyrm. In a lightning-struck hollow trunk of the tree, far above the forest, a rain-water stagnant bowl in the wood holds hundreds of loose coins, including some coveted Platinum pieces and the rare and ancient Electrum pieces of the Taldan colonial era. But most importantly, among the riches lies a grapefruit sized Arkenstone, scintillating with radiant magic. It is a globe with a thousand facets; it shines like silver in the firelight, like water in the sun, like snow under the stars, like rain upon the Moon! It shines with its own pale light, but when outer light falls upon the Arkenstone, it changes it into ten thousand sparks of white radiance shot with glints of the rainbow. It is truly a wondrous treasure. Loading all of this into his great leather sack, Belton alights into a nearby tree and ties himself off to catch some much-needed rest.
During the dark of the deep night by the dim light of a guttering campfire, ever-watchful Sif espies the low creeping of yet another massive serpent sliding through the leaves of the forest floor with a near-silent hiss and scrape of scales against dry leaves. Sweeping the Singing Sword from it's scabbard she looses a cry of alarm to warn her companions that battle is nigh. Gaia, unarmored in her silken slip and bare feet painfully rises into a crouch within the tent and pulls her saber from it's scabbard, ready for action but feeling the incredibly sore and tender wounds in her sides. The serpent, alerted to its discovery by Sif's cry, springs into action, biting Sif and Grabbing her to constrict her in its deadly coils, hoping to crush and squeeze the life out of her in order to devour her corpse slowly. Seeing this terrible event from inside the tent, Gaia draws forth the transformative magic from the aether to enlarg Sif to twice her size, that she may wrestle with the serpent from a position of dominance. Belton, spreads the mighty Wings of the 36 Divine Celestial Saints slicing instantly through the ropes that bind him safely to the tree and swoops down like a furious eagle to stike the constrictor with a wing slash, a razor-sharp Katana ( forged in the Tian Xia Kingdom of Shokuro and gifted to a legendary Tianjing Temple Guardian Aasimar by the grandsire of Emperor Lung Wa ) slicing through scale and bone with devastating ease. Swinging her Singing Sword, Sif cuts a deep and grievous wound in the side of the beast, sending it fleeing into the woods to nurse its wounds. Undaunted, she charges after the things, coursing at a run along it's fresh and bloody trail through the leaves. Reaching the desperate creature, she delivers it a deadly killing blow, slicing into it's brain-meat with her broad, pitiless blade and spilling it's thoughts among the dirt and leaves of the forest ground. It's body writhes and twists and convulses spasmodically in it's death throes, it's soul having fled its mortal coils and the dull flesh of it's body animated solely by disjuncted impulses from its ruined mind. Grabbing it by the tail, Sif drags it's heavy carcass through the woods back to camp to skin it, carve off it's good cuts of meat and cook up some rations for any lean days ahead when they cross out of the bountiful forest and into the barren mountains in their quest for the Dwarven Ruins and the elusive IronBloom Mushroom.
Gaia and Belton return to sleep while Sif field-dresses the giant constrictor and harvests the edible parts, creating a fire of green herbs and leaves, she rubs down the meat with sea-salt and smokes the strips over the fire until the next day. With the dawn Belton flies down from the tree and all of the party pause for an hour or so to pray and meditate, to study their carefully inscribed spell books for the days dweomers, and to gather and collect the ancient power and lore of nature performing a mystical internal alchemy to transmute the raw life of the world into the focused wonder of will-driven spells obeying ancient pacts and universal laws of creation. This crucial communion havig been done, Belton lays his hands upon the sore and tender skin of Gaia near her horrible fang-wounds and the mortal world pauses for a breath as the hallowed power of creation is channeled from his palms to suffuse beautiful gaia with new-found life and knit together once more her battle-shattered organs allowing rich and vital life to course once again through swollen and agonized flesh bringing sweet relief and the succor of good health as Belton intones loving praise and thanks to his Holy Lady of Dreams and Stars, the ancient Goddess, Desna. Whose mercy and grace heals his friend on his behalf. Behold! She is made whole after many prayers and the flowing of blessed celestial power has run its course through her being. She stands, renewed, her black hair flowing rich and lustrous with life. Her Amethyst ( yes, they are purple ) eyes sparkling with the musetouched light of her grandsire. Her flawless, unblemished skin radiant with vitality and divine health. Dulcid tones ring from her angels throat as she thanks the Inquisitor for his help and healing. Proud Sif, warmed by the sight of her full recovery, approaches her and embraces her in relief. Her spirits uplifted with the fortune of her friend. As a merry band, the three break camp and with new-found determination, they carry on through the trees, laden with new food and the loot of the Tatzlewyrms victims and treasure-horde.
Pressing onward through the forest our heroes come across a set of foul tracks, goat-like deep footprints with a bad smell that end suddenly after 50 feet. First, Belton the Inquisitor notices them and follows their path to its end. Then Sif the Huntress combs the area for any sing of the tracks resuming but finds all of nothing among the debris of the forest floor. This sets Belton to thinking. Recalling his long, long hours spent training at the Temple to become an annointed Inquisitor of Aroden the Fallen, he casts back his recollection to the great tomes of monstrous lore and bestiaries compiled by countless generations of inquisitors before him, reaching for memories of what manner of menace could leave goatlike tracks that reek of death and disappear. Different first options race through his mind, the Sylvan Faun, the rugged and often smelly Satyr, the Ibixian Goat-folk. And then his memory travels down a darker path. Demonology. Finally settling on the Schir. Also known as spite demons, Schirs are among the most violent and vile-tempered inhabitants of the Abyss. Schirs are formed from the souls of mortals who either committed or framed others for heinous crimes—acts committed for the sole purpose of petty retribution. Despite such origins, schirs occupy one of the lowest orders in the demonic hierarchy, often serving as front-line infantry in demonic armies or as guards for minor demonic commanders. Although not especially intelligent, schirs are cunning warriors and able sentries. Although they prefer to charge into combat, a schir's natural jumping ability makes it a nimble enemy, capable of using its surroundings astutely. A schir will often jump on top of rocks, crumbling walls, or any other high place to hack with its disease-ridden halberd. For all of schirs' capabilities, their spitefulness makes them distrustful of any creature that has not proven its greater power and strength numerous times. A schir resembles a tall, muscular humanoid with the head and hooves of a demonic goat. A ragged hide covers patches of a schir's body, usually around the forearms and lower legs, with a crestlike patch running down from the creature's crown to the nape of its neck. Schir demons are 7 feet tall, though they usually stoop and so appear shorter, and weigh 300 pounds. Realizing with a start that this is why the tracks suddenly end he draws forth a good aligned 9-Ring Broadsword from his wings, readying himself for the beasts leaping ambush attack.
Seeing this Sif is quick to act. Her battle instincts honed and sharp, she drops into a ready stance with her Singing Sword at the ready, silver light flares out, lighting the path. Realizing that danger is nigh, Gaia sends Kenai off to scout around the forest for the threat, readying her razor-keen saber for whatever comes, a swirl of spells rising in her mind.
The pit-spawned creature strikes! Dropping from it's perch 50 feet about the trail, its vicious, poisonous halberd slicing through the air to impale the demon's hated foe, Belton, a Celestial outsider. But Belton's senses are sharp and hearing the branches shake as the creature alights, he spins up a Blade Barrier with his Wings and a flashing hemisphere of deadly swords whirls around him. The Fiend can do naught but pass through the deadly maelstrom, taking a few good cuts from the good-aligned blades, their Heaven-forged steel slicing through his unnaturally tough flesh with ease. Fortune is with Belton on this day and the Demon misses his strike ending his plummeting charge by driving his wicked halberd into the forest floor. Sif is quick to spring, like a tigress she springs across the woodland swinging a deadly arc with her Nordic broadsword. Her blade bites into the abyssal flesh of the manxome foe. The sword singing it's Skaldic dirge of battle and bravery. And she watches in consternation as the unholy flesh knits and heals itself partially before her very eyes a second after her sword parts flesh. This creature is protected by wicked energies from the bite of all but Good and Cold Iron. Her silversheen sword will be less effective despite her strong arm.
Gaia, seeing Sif's reaction counters the creatures fast healing with magic. Her Magic missiles streak forth like searing astral lasers. The bolts crashing into the demon's flesh and blasting apart skin and meat for telling damage. The horror shrieks a demonic roar of defiance and undaunted ferocity. It cannot be cowed by superior numbers. It knows only hatred and cruelty and is a stranger to fear. It raises its poisonous weapon to rend and kill Belton. Seeing the limited efficacy of her magic sword, Sif brings The Horn of Ancient Calling to her fair lips and blows a ringing, echoing blast upon it. The call ringing out between worlds, calling forth from the underworld of long forgotten antiquity the savage, barbaric hordes of the First Men. Ruthless, cannibal headhunters from the age of the Cave Bear and the Mastadon. The horrible souls are called forth from their happy hunting ground afterlife and given new flesh, with all the craving for blood and hunger and lust for mayhem and barbarity that come with mortal life. Shrieking and howling to crush their enemies, see them driven before them and to hear the lamentations of the dying as they are eaten, the half-men glower at the holder of the horn. Yearning only for the command that shall set them upon their prey. "Kill the Demon!" shrieks Sif, pointing toward the Schir. Savage blows are traded, the combatants giving and taking the bitter results of mortal combat until the tide turns against the Schir and in its fury, it leaps skyward, into the tree branches far overhead and with curses and dire epithets, taunting Belton with threats that the Demoniac and the Diabolist who stole his wings are never far from hi, and that their ultimate plan for his utter ruin will bring a despair that will be legendary in it's levels of torment, loss and utter desolation. It flees across the treetops away from our heroes who bested it.
Belton rashly decides to fly after the Fiend. Leaving his cohorts earthbound, he streaks skyward propelled by the sorcery of his mighty eldritch wings, pursuing the demon through the treetops, gaining on it with every passing second. Seeing his hated enemy is not to be outrun, the Schir leaps to the ground taunting the Inquisitor to dare to follow. Belton plummets downward to see the demon set himself against a charge, his halberd braced against a solid rocky mass protruding from the forest floor, ready to deal impaling death to the winged avenger, should he attempt a diving attack. But Belton is quick and seeing his peril halts his pursuit for a second giving the fiend a split second to disappear from view using some hellish invisibility, the leafy ground explodes lightly with the force of the demon's powerful leaping. Belton despairs as her realizes that the unseeable creature could have leapt anywhere. Even straight up to execute another diving charge dealing death from above. As Sif and Gaia race through the forest to his aid, the savage horde of the Horn on ranging at their sides in long loping, half-bestial strides, Belton calms his mind and casts his sixth sense outward detecting the the twisted energies of evil before him. Upward into the trees he seeks his awareness struggling desperately to sense the wicked aura of the Demon. But there is nothing. Fear begins the creep in at the fringes of the Inquisitor's staunch resolve. The Demon could be anywhere. The demon could be right behind him now.
Sif and Gaia race onto the scene, the Savages fanning out across the clearing, clearly hissing and howling frustration at the lack of clear and present foes and eyeing the Caller fo the Horn dangerously, the power of the Horn's control over them wavering as they are left without immediate directive. Belton quickly shouts warnings, apprising his beautiful companions of their peril at the hands on the unseen demon. They race to his side turning to face outward, ready to do battle back to back, fighting as brave cohorts to the end. A hide-wrapped barbarian of the Horn's horde scrathces at the ground where the Demon stood, tasting and smelling the earth and seeking the Fiend's scent.
Then demon shows its hand! A poorly aimed attack is directed at Gaia, the weakest-seeming member of the team. The monster throws its Halberd at her heart but fumbles in the last instant and missed her completely, the weapon, leaving it's hand, becomes visible and all trace it's course and follow the path it came from back to its source. A copse of trees that Sif and Gaia had raced right past. Belton wastes not a second sprinting in a wide arc toward the tree as Gaia telepathically commands Kenai to fly around and see where the demon is hiding and reveal it. As Belton rounds the tree he sees the wounded and desperate creature of The Pit. without breaking his stride he drives his sword, driven by his full running weight, into the heart of the demon, impaling it instantly, his companions looking on in wonder at the weapon pierced the demon and the tree behind which it was hiding and the tip bursts forth in a shower of splinter from the back of the tree, bloody with demonic ichor. Pinning the corpse of the creature to the tree.
Realizing it's enormous value in terms of it's various body parts, to Wizards, Alchemists and potion makers, Gaia rushed to harvest several grisly trophies from the body explaining to the others how the horns, fangs and claws, heart, eyes, liver tail and even hooves of the thing will bring literally hundreds if not thousands of gold pieces when sold in a major city. Belton is disgusted by this and at first moves to voice his complete dismay and disapproval of this act but holds his tongue at the wisdom of Gaia's mercantile explanation. The group can use more gold. The town of Falcon's Hollow will be unable to pay them for their heroism in anything but gratitude. The barbarians of the horde are given the remainder of the body as their spoils of battle and they carry off the demon to their own strange limbo where they reside forever.
Belton, sighs and turns his mind to the challenge ahead of Ulizmila the Witch of the Woods.
Gaia and Belton return to sleep while Sif field-dresses the giant constrictor and harvests the edible parts, creating a fire of green herbs and leaves, she rubs down the meat with sea-salt and smokes the strips over the fire until the next day. With the dawn Belton flies down from the tree and all of the party pause for an hour or so to pray and meditate, to study their carefully inscribed spell books for the days dweomers, and to gather and collect the ancient power and lore of nature performing a mystical internal alchemy to transmute the raw life of the world into the focused wonder of will-driven spells obeying ancient pacts and universal laws of creation. This crucial communion havig been done, Belton lays his hands upon the sore and tender skin of Gaia near her horrible fang-wounds and the mortal world pauses for a breath as the hallowed power of creation is channeled from his palms to suffuse beautiful gaia with new-found life and knit together once more her battle-shattered organs allowing rich and vital life to course once again through swollen and agonized flesh bringing sweet relief and the succor of good health as Belton intones loving praise and thanks to his Holy Lady of Dreams and Stars, the ancient Goddess, Desna. Whose mercy and grace heals his friend on his behalf. Behold! She is made whole after many prayers and the flowing of blessed celestial power has run its course through her being. She stands, renewed, her black hair flowing rich and lustrous with life. Her Amethyst ( yes, they are purple ) eyes sparkling with the musetouched light of her grandsire. Her flawless, unblemished skin radiant with vitality and divine health. Dulcid tones ring from her angels throat as she thanks the Inquisitor for his help and healing. Proud Sif, warmed by the sight of her full recovery, approaches her and embraces her in relief. Her spirits uplifted with the fortune of her friend. As a merry band, the three break camp and with new-found determination, they carry on through the trees, laden with new food and the loot of the Tatzlewyrms victims and treasure-horde.
Pressing onward through the forest our heroes come across a set of foul tracks, goat-like deep footprints with a bad smell that end suddenly after 50 feet. First, Belton the Inquisitor notices them and follows their path to its end. Then Sif the Huntress combs the area for any sing of the tracks resuming but finds all of nothing among the debris of the forest floor. This sets Belton to thinking. Recalling his long, long hours spent training at the Temple to become an annointed Inquisitor of Aroden the Fallen, he casts back his recollection to the great tomes of monstrous lore and bestiaries compiled by countless generations of inquisitors before him, reaching for memories of what manner of menace could leave goatlike tracks that reek of death and disappear. Different first options race through his mind, the Sylvan Faun, the rugged and often smelly Satyr, the Ibixian Goat-folk. And then his memory travels down a darker path. Demonology. Finally settling on the Schir. Also known as spite demons, Schirs are among the most violent and vile-tempered inhabitants of the Abyss. Schirs are formed from the souls of mortals who either committed or framed others for heinous crimes—acts committed for the sole purpose of petty retribution. Despite such origins, schirs occupy one of the lowest orders in the demonic hierarchy, often serving as front-line infantry in demonic armies or as guards for minor demonic commanders. Although not especially intelligent, schirs are cunning warriors and able sentries. Although they prefer to charge into combat, a schir's natural jumping ability makes it a nimble enemy, capable of using its surroundings astutely. A schir will often jump on top of rocks, crumbling walls, or any other high place to hack with its disease-ridden halberd. For all of schirs' capabilities, their spitefulness makes them distrustful of any creature that has not proven its greater power and strength numerous times. A schir resembles a tall, muscular humanoid with the head and hooves of a demonic goat. A ragged hide covers patches of a schir's body, usually around the forearms and lower legs, with a crestlike patch running down from the creature's crown to the nape of its neck. Schir demons are 7 feet tall, though they usually stoop and so appear shorter, and weigh 300 pounds. Realizing with a start that this is why the tracks suddenly end he draws forth a good aligned 9-Ring Broadsword from his wings, readying himself for the beasts leaping ambush attack.
Seeing this Sif is quick to act. Her battle instincts honed and sharp, she drops into a ready stance with her Singing Sword at the ready, silver light flares out, lighting the path. Realizing that danger is nigh, Gaia sends Kenai off to scout around the forest for the threat, readying her razor-keen saber for whatever comes, a swirl of spells rising in her mind.
The pit-spawned creature strikes! Dropping from it's perch 50 feet about the trail, its vicious, poisonous halberd slicing through the air to impale the demon's hated foe, Belton, a Celestial outsider. But Belton's senses are sharp and hearing the branches shake as the creature alights, he spins up a Blade Barrier with his Wings and a flashing hemisphere of deadly swords whirls around him. The Fiend can do naught but pass through the deadly maelstrom, taking a few good cuts from the good-aligned blades, their Heaven-forged steel slicing through his unnaturally tough flesh with ease. Fortune is with Belton on this day and the Demon misses his strike ending his plummeting charge by driving his wicked halberd into the forest floor. Sif is quick to spring, like a tigress she springs across the woodland swinging a deadly arc with her Nordic broadsword. Her blade bites into the abyssal flesh of the manxome foe. The sword singing it's Skaldic dirge of battle and bravery. And she watches in consternation as the unholy flesh knits and heals itself partially before her very eyes a second after her sword parts flesh. This creature is protected by wicked energies from the bite of all but Good and Cold Iron. Her silversheen sword will be less effective despite her strong arm.
Gaia, seeing Sif's reaction counters the creatures fast healing with magic. Her Magic missiles streak forth like searing astral lasers. The bolts crashing into the demon's flesh and blasting apart skin and meat for telling damage. The horror shrieks a demonic roar of defiance and undaunted ferocity. It cannot be cowed by superior numbers. It knows only hatred and cruelty and is a stranger to fear. It raises its poisonous weapon to rend and kill Belton. Seeing the limited efficacy of her magic sword, Sif brings The Horn of Ancient Calling to her fair lips and blows a ringing, echoing blast upon it. The call ringing out between worlds, calling forth from the underworld of long forgotten antiquity the savage, barbaric hordes of the First Men. Ruthless, cannibal headhunters from the age of the Cave Bear and the Mastadon. The horrible souls are called forth from their happy hunting ground afterlife and given new flesh, with all the craving for blood and hunger and lust for mayhem and barbarity that come with mortal life. Shrieking and howling to crush their enemies, see them driven before them and to hear the lamentations of the dying as they are eaten, the half-men glower at the holder of the horn. Yearning only for the command that shall set them upon their prey. "Kill the Demon!" shrieks Sif, pointing toward the Schir. Savage blows are traded, the combatants giving and taking the bitter results of mortal combat until the tide turns against the Schir and in its fury, it leaps skyward, into the tree branches far overhead and with curses and dire epithets, taunting Belton with threats that the Demoniac and the Diabolist who stole his wings are never far from hi, and that their ultimate plan for his utter ruin will bring a despair that will be legendary in it's levels of torment, loss and utter desolation. It flees across the treetops away from our heroes who bested it.
Belton rashly decides to fly after the Fiend. Leaving his cohorts earthbound, he streaks skyward propelled by the sorcery of his mighty eldritch wings, pursuing the demon through the treetops, gaining on it with every passing second. Seeing his hated enemy is not to be outrun, the Schir leaps to the ground taunting the Inquisitor to dare to follow. Belton plummets downward to see the demon set himself against a charge, his halberd braced against a solid rocky mass protruding from the forest floor, ready to deal impaling death to the winged avenger, should he attempt a diving attack. But Belton is quick and seeing his peril halts his pursuit for a second giving the fiend a split second to disappear from view using some hellish invisibility, the leafy ground explodes lightly with the force of the demon's powerful leaping. Belton despairs as her realizes that the unseeable creature could have leapt anywhere. Even straight up to execute another diving charge dealing death from above. As Sif and Gaia race through the forest to his aid, the savage horde of the Horn on ranging at their sides in long loping, half-bestial strides, Belton calms his mind and casts his sixth sense outward detecting the the twisted energies of evil before him. Upward into the trees he seeks his awareness struggling desperately to sense the wicked aura of the Demon. But there is nothing. Fear begins the creep in at the fringes of the Inquisitor's staunch resolve. The Demon could be anywhere. The demon could be right behind him now.
Sif and Gaia race onto the scene, the Savages fanning out across the clearing, clearly hissing and howling frustration at the lack of clear and present foes and eyeing the Caller fo the Horn dangerously, the power of the Horn's control over them wavering as they are left without immediate directive. Belton quickly shouts warnings, apprising his beautiful companions of their peril at the hands on the unseen demon. They race to his side turning to face outward, ready to do battle back to back, fighting as brave cohorts to the end. A hide-wrapped barbarian of the Horn's horde scrathces at the ground where the Demon stood, tasting and smelling the earth and seeking the Fiend's scent.
Then demon shows its hand! A poorly aimed attack is directed at Gaia, the weakest-seeming member of the team. The monster throws its Halberd at her heart but fumbles in the last instant and missed her completely, the weapon, leaving it's hand, becomes visible and all trace it's course and follow the path it came from back to its source. A copse of trees that Sif and Gaia had raced right past. Belton wastes not a second sprinting in a wide arc toward the tree as Gaia telepathically commands Kenai to fly around and see where the demon is hiding and reveal it. As Belton rounds the tree he sees the wounded and desperate creature of The Pit. without breaking his stride he drives his sword, driven by his full running weight, into the heart of the demon, impaling it instantly, his companions looking on in wonder at the weapon pierced the demon and the tree behind which it was hiding and the tip bursts forth in a shower of splinter from the back of the tree, bloody with demonic ichor. Pinning the corpse of the creature to the tree.
Realizing it's enormous value in terms of it's various body parts, to Wizards, Alchemists and potion makers, Gaia rushed to harvest several grisly trophies from the body explaining to the others how the horns, fangs and claws, heart, eyes, liver tail and even hooves of the thing will bring literally hundreds if not thousands of gold pieces when sold in a major city. Belton is disgusted by this and at first moves to voice his complete dismay and disapproval of this act but holds his tongue at the wisdom of Gaia's mercantile explanation. The group can use more gold. The town of Falcon's Hollow will be unable to pay them for their heroism in anything but gratitude. The barbarians of the horde are given the remainder of the body as their spoils of battle and they carry off the demon to their own strange limbo where they reside forever.
Belton, sighs and turns his mind to the challenge ahead of Ulizmila the Witch of the Woods.