(Fledinem)

The creature was a humanoid, but larger and bulkier by far than even Fledinem. It had a gangly shape and a malevolent, leering face. Its putrid, green skin seemed clammy – almost rubbery. Scraggly black hair framed its eyes, which were yellow and sunken far into its head.

As it took in the room, its lip curled upwards in distaste, revealing dagger-like teeth. For a second, no-one moved.

And then Lupa began barking at it.

The creature snarled, and strode forward, swinging a long, clawed hand at the wolf. Lupa dodged back, the filthy claws just missing her by an inch.

Then the room exploded into action.

Alex Hawke dived towards Jezediah, pulling him back and throwing the desk over to create a temporary barrier between this sudden threat and their employer. Mr O’Faolain hastily yanked a hand-axe from its bindings at his side, and then strangely raked it across the bare flesh of his own arm. Crimson blood stained the blade, which suddenly crackled into angry, blue lightning. Bran slammed the lightning-sheathed axe against his shield twice in challenge, before settling into a battle-ready position and saying; “All right, ya wee troll beastie, you wanna have a go?!”

But that was interrupted when two bolts and an arrow thunked into the creature’s chest and arms. Marion and her automaton had both pulled out crossbows.

The arrow had come from Fledinem because it had attacked his wolf!

Fledinem’s skin swirled, the colours in his complexion changing faster now that he was agitated. His bow was in his hand, and he was already preparing another arrow. This thing had attacked his wolf. It would now die. Complicated at this world was sometimes, some things were simple.

Then the dragonborn was leaping over the heads of all of them. With a burst of speed that belied his age, Dovakiin jumped off the carpet, off a chair, off the edge of the flipped-over desk and landed on the back of the creature, grabbing it by its hair. He was apparently attempting to punch it in the side of the head.

Enraged, the creature - the troll - swept a claw at him, but was distracted again as a javelin had slammed into it, thrown by Solstice.

The troll spun around, peppered by the group, still standing near the trapdoor it had emerged from. Its questing claws managed to dislodge Dovakiin. The dragonborn landed agilely, looking for another angle of attack.

The troll yanked out the javelin. Green blood spurted for a moment… and then the wound began to close. The troll was regenerating. All its wounds began closing. It grinned. It was an evil grin.

Trolls. Regenerating. Fledinem paused his next arrow. Hadn’t he heard something about that?

The troll sneered, then slammed its claws into O’Faolain, who had moved to form a one-man shield wall. The human managed to take the hit on his shield, but was pushed back by the sheer force of the blow.

“Does anyone have any fire?!” he yelled.

Oh yes, that was it!

“Not me!” yelled Dovakiin.

“Nor me!” called Marion.

“I’m more of a stabby kind of guy!” called Hawke from behind the table. He’d manged to get Caliban behind there too, now.

One by one, each person around the room signalled their lack of fire abilities. Not a one among them could do it. The troll slashed at Dovakiin, and managed to rake the front of his robes, drawing blood.

In the twilight darkness of the room, Lord Vance watched the fight unfolding with rapt attention. Behind his dark glasses, his eyes almost gleamed at the violence.

Well then. It was up to Fledinem.

In the far reaches of the astral planes, there was a race of beings created out of pure light. They looked elven, but were not true elves. Their skin shimmered with all the colours of the rainbow.

Fledinem was not supposed to be here. This was all very wrong. But in the chaos of the room, as the group tried to bring down the regenerating troll, and as it crashed and roared, Fledinem stepped forward.

And from deep within him, he brought out the light.

It started as a little pinprick, behind the thrashing troll. A little spark flared into life. However, as it grew brighter, the troll paused in its attempt to disembowel Mr O’Faolain and turned… 

Just in time to see the spark erupt into a small sun. 

The sphere of pure fire blasted heat into the room, igniting the curtains, the desk, and most importantly, the troll. It screamed in pain as its skin seared and blistered, throwing up its arms to protect its face.

Fledinem reached out his arms, channeling more of the energy. Yes! More light!

From behind the troll, O’Faolain charged, shoving the troll in the back with his shield. It didn’t expect the blow, and toppled over the rim of the trapdoor, its skin igniting. 

Fledinem urged the flaming sphere down into the pit with it. Burning it. Killing it. 

It had attacked his wolf!!

The curtains had burned off their railings, suddenly filling the room with shafts of light.

Someone was yelling something.

Yes! More LIGHT!

Dovakin tried to slam down the trapdoor on both the burning sphere and the troll, but the trapdoor was hot to the touch and the troll kept trying to get out again. O’Faolain slammed his shield down on the troll’s arms each time it tried to grab the edges of the pit, saying, “Down! Down ya go!” Eventually, the troll’s efforts became more feeble. It’s movements ceased. Its arms slipped out of sight. There was a thud as its body hit the bottom of the pit.

There was a terrible stench of cooked flesh in the air. From within the pit, the burning sphere continued to crackle merrily.

Fledinem nodded, satisfied, and extinguished his flaming sphere. The justice of the Liosalfar had been done. He turned, ready to accept the acolades of the others who would no doubt congratulate him on a job well done.

And it was at that point that he started paying attention to what everyone else was doing, heard their screaming, and realised that the room of Lord Vance's manor was now on fire.