Handing her orc companion one of the standard healing potions, Maribel slipped the glowing potion quietly back into her pack. I’ll save it for later in case I wanna have a little more fun, she thought to herself, giggling slightly while remembering the pleasing sensation she had felt just moments before.
After taking a swig of the medical tonic, Gresha felt well enough to stand, but turning around and seeing Maribel for the first time since the battle, she stepped back with a start, instinctively reaching for her battleaxe. “Whoa, easy! It’s me,” Maribel spoke up quickly, putting up her hands. Gresha frowned and tilted her head slightly, gazing up and down at the new “developments” the halfling had undergone.
“There, uh...musta been something in that well we stopped at a mile back,” she continued sheepishly, glancing down at her threadbare clothing. “Nothin’ like fresh spring water to help along a late growth spurt, huh?”
Gresha took more moments to process this, then shrugged with a offhand grunt and turned to head back toward the road.
Wow, I guess orcs really don’t like to dwell on things, Maribel observed, searching the area for her crossbow. She smiled when she finally found it among some brush, but her face slowly fell when she picked it up. While it was still in working condition, it no longer seemed to quite...fit her anymore. Tucking it under her arm and aiming down the shaft now felt cumbersome, like she needed to scrunch her body inward.
Though she felt a hint of melancholy at this realization, her eyes lit up again when she spotted a nearby sword dropped by one of the slain bandits. Too heavy and unwieldy at her former size, it now felt lithe and responsive in her grasp. She gave it a few twirls and grinned at how her dexterity appeared to have improved. Though she had gained considerably more mass—particularly in her chest area—she found her well-toned frame allowed her a wider range and springier speed of movement.
Finding a fair amount of gold among the pockets of the corpses, Maribel jogged after Gresha to catch up. “Hey Greshie! Whaddya think of this?” She called after her, holding up her sword. “Oh and we should probably stop at the next town. I think I could use some more clothes.”
...
Over the next few days, the pair had arrived at and left the town of Lorrican, restocking on supplies and taking some much-needed rest. Maribel, even more of her usual bubbly self, skipped circles around Gresha while clad in her sleek new leather tunic, boots, and steel-lined gauntlets to complement her new weapon of choice.
“Wow, everyone was so nice at that last place!” she commented happily, practicing a few more combinations with her sword which she was quickly becoming adept at using. “Especially that armor vendor...though it was kinda strange when he offered me that discount after I dropped my coin pouch and had to bend over to pick it up.”
Had Maribel been facing her associate, she may have caught a faint glimpse of the orc equivalent of a snicker. Gresha merely grunted a reply however, and went back to reading the map they had procured from a scribe on the outskirts of town.
“Are we close?” Maribel asked, peeking over Gresha’s shoulder at the primitive ink markings scrawled into the parchment.
Gresha nodded, point at a small rocky ridge several yards away. “Cave on the other side.”
Maribel nodded. “I hope we find something shiny, especially since paid a lotta coin for this map. The thin man in the hood who sold it to us seemed kinda...shifty though.”
Despite their misgivings, the opposite end of the ridge did indeed open up into a cavern, descending deep into the earth away from the reaches of sunlight. Fashioning a torch from a strip of cloth and a dead tree branch, Gresha sprinkled some immolation oil at the end and led the way, twisting through the winding, narrow corridors of stone.
After evading a few small-cave-ins and pitfalls, the duo reached a conspicuously well-crafted staircase spiraling down to a doorway at the bottom which opened up into a wide, spacious room. Unlike the rest of the cave, this room had some unrecognizable form of light source lining the walls, which provided a small amount of visibility. It was the center of the room however, which drew the attention of the two explorers.
Emanating from a pedestal was the unmistakable gleam of precious stones reflecting the light from the walls. As Gresha and Maribel moved closer, they discovered it came from a statue, made of pure gold and depicting a very well-endowed feminine form, sitting on a base encrusted with diamonds, rubies, and sapphires.
Maribel’s enlarged pupils danced with the jewelry’s glow as she clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh it’s sooooo pretty!”
Gresha couldn’t help but smile as well at their long-overdue run of luck. She was about to reach for the figurine when her ear caught a fainting shifting of rock in the direction they had come from. Maribel, who had also picked up on it, suddenly lunged to her side to avoid a spinning object that whistled by her. Gresha had her battleaxe in hand in the next instant, parrying the projectile with a sharp clang and sending it slamming into the wall to their side. Glancing in its direction, they recognized the outline of an axe, rudimentary in design but looking no less deadly.
A gravelly roar caused then to whirl around, bringing them face to face with a large brown creature, at least 7 feet tall, with a long jutting chin, upturned fangs, and a frizzy mop of firey red hair.
“Yoooouuuu thieving meatsacks!” The angry swamp troll bellowed. “Bright thing MINE! No take, or you turn to MUSH!”
“Hey! We saw it first, Ugly-Chin!” Maribel protested, with Gresha emitting a low snarl behind her. “Besides, why’re you here anyway? Trolls are too dumb to do exploring like this!”
“No matter who see first!” The brute shot back. “Skinny meatsack with covered face show me! I give bright metal crumbs, he give paper!” He waved a familiar-looking piece of parchment in their faces as Gresha shook her head in disgust. “Shifty scribe,” she muttered.
“We have that map too, so that means we get it since we were here first!” Maribel stated, taking it from Gresha and holding it up. She straightened her back in defiance but she still had to crane her neck to face the hulking troll.
“You lie!” He growled. “You have fake paper! I have real paper from skinny man! You try trick, but I CRUSH you now!”
Raising his other arm which brandished an axe identical to the one he had just thrown, he advanced on them with surprising quickness, taking a broad swipe at their heads. The orc and halfling dodged in opposite directions, leaving the lumbering troll stumbling forward but allowing him to recover his second axe from where it was embedded in the rock.
Unfortunately, the troll somehow seemed even quicker when wielding both axes, swinging them in a mad frenzy as Gresha and Maribel continued to backpedal and avoid decapitation. There was method to his madness however, as his size and movement kept them from flanking and gaining an advantage.
Maribel struggled to hold her ground, blocking and deflecting the axe blows when she could and contorting her body out of the way when she couldn’t. Though she couldn’t find an opening, standing toe-to-toe like this with a swamp troll would have been unthinkable only a few days prior.
Any hint of success was shortlived however, as her opponent brought both axes down on her at the same time in an overhead strike. Her sword took most of the impact, but one of the blades grazed her shoulder, slicing through the strap to her pack and her leather armor and into her skin. Collapsing to her knee as the pack dropped to the ground at her side, she glimpsed the troll cocked back for a finishing blow, but Gresha stepped in front of her, ramming her axe handle into his neck and finally pushing him back.
For the next few seconds, Gresha started to make headway against the larger creature, keeping him on the defensive with the long reach of her two-handed blade. She went for a disemboweling slash, but mistimed her attack, allowing the troll to lash out with his foot and smash it into her stomach.
Gresha flew back to the opposite wall and doubled over, trying to catch the breath knocked out of her. In the fray, the statue had toppled over and rolled toward her, coming to a stop on its back. The two stunned adventurers looked warily up at their enemy, who raised his axes in premature triumph.“Meatsacks too puny to fight Strog! Strog will turn them to MUSH!”
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