Since joining these merry band of misfits that call themselves adventurers, I’ve found myself in very strange company. It appears that Hope is our leader, even though she’s barely twelve-years-old if that. She’s the talker, the faceman for our little party. It’s funny to see the reactions of the people that we have to talk to; Hope standing in front of the likes of myself and Mr. Rabbit, Mera and the others. To be sure, they are all very intimidating and cast very large shadows. Especially when they’re standing behind the little girl with frowny faces and crossed arms.
But we’ve managed to come through the wispy forest and pigmy trolls relatively unscathed, but I’m pretty sure I’m infected somehow. Also, the small book I’ve been reading for a while now is starting to make sense as I realize that it was in fact a spellbook, and I think now I know how to perform a small bit of it myself. However, on the journey to the Ranger outpost near Turtleback Ferry, I show no signs of turning into a troll. So far. Though that appears to be the least of our worries.
We come across Ogre Hillbilly Heaven, which is little better than a farmstead chock full of these backwards folk. These guys are so ugly that I feel downright handsome next to their malformed bulk. All of us make our way through the farmstead by spell and sword, and wind up rescuing a few of the surviving rangers, who want us to find their ranger clubhouse in the mountains and get their stuff back for them. These items seem to be of some note, so I say that we just burn down the entire fortress and see what’s left afterwards. It’s the only real way to be sure!
Our current job is not done, however, and as our Varisian companion gets her feathers ruffled by the rangers and our party makes a big fuss about it, I find myself creeping through the ogre house not far away, taking extra care to not make a sound- until those duncecaps come clamoring in behind me, so loud and obnoxious that they can’t even see that I’ve hidden under the table to avoid getting eaten by the ogres because of their sudden entrance.
Fortune is with me, however. They wind up activating almost every trap in the house save for one (which I foolishly spring when my patience wears thin). We come across some deformed ogre babies, and I decide to put one out of its misery and ours.
But believe it or not, that’s not the worst of it.
No, that comes when we investigate upstairs and find an ogre broodmother, commanding some of her more dead offspring. I draw steel and go into my flipping and disorienting attack mode, and with the aid of my louder party members, get the job done. The broodmother uses her bed to somehow float above us and tries to mess with us, but stuck between two flaming balls, she gets burnt to an arcane crisp. Good riddance.
After that, I’m more than willing to set that outpost on fire- especially if there’s more ogres inside…