The village was scared, that much Grimmyr could sense. While by now he was used to many of the peoples of Golarion being intimidated by his towering form, this fear had nothing to do with him. It had clearly seeped into the community long before he arrived. The faces of the townsfolk were pale and tired. Their movements were slow and languid, as if a heavy weight pressed down upon them. It even seemed to affect the atmosphere—dark clouds gathered overhead, and the flowers ringing the small stone plinth at the center of the village green were wilted and dying. Grimmyr’s heart ached to see such distress.
Grimmyr ducked under a hanging sign painted with a tankard of ale and opened the door to what he hoped was a tavern or inn. While his people had no such formal meeting spaces in the Fray, he had learned that these businesses were good places to gather information. Inside, he drew the stares of several residents and a pair of individuals who were as armed and armored as himself.
“A fellow mercenary!” shouted the taller of the two, waving over to Grimmyr. Her skin was tanned from long hours in the sun, her blonde hair was cut roughly, and her friendly grin showed more than one missing tooth. “Come to protect the fine people of Northfork from the monsters?” she asked.
“Of course he is, Aliss,” said the other. He was stout and bearded, the long reddish hairs twisted into two neat braids. His eyebrows were less groomed, as if left to cover the missing hair on his head. “Look at the size of ‘im.”
“Monsters?” Grimmyr asked, his voice surprisingly soft.
“Aye,” said the one named Aliss. “Scaly buggers that crawl up out of the well just outside of town from time to time. No one knows what’s drivin’ them into a frenzy, but his holiness Mordruk and me are only gettin’ paid to kill them.” She winked at a scowling Mordruk.
“Only been here about a week,” said Mordruk. “But it’s been getting worse and—” he was cut off by the ringing of a bell outside and shouts of “They’re here!”
With a chuckle, Aliss picked up the longsword leaning against the wall and strode toward the door. “Best hold your breath, new guy,” she said. Mordruk raised the hood of his white cloak and followed without offering an explanation.
Outside, panic gripped the town. From behind closed doors, Grimmyr could hear children crying and furniture being moved to form makeshift barricades. Aliss and Mordruk hurried eastward, alongside farmers armed with pitchforks and shovels, toward the sound of guttural snarls. As Grimmyr passed by the plinth, the sight of the dying flora sent a foreboding chill down his spine.
Grimmyr smelled the creatures before he saw them. It was a terrible, musty odor of sweat and stale air that crept into the nostrils and down the back of the throat. He gagged briefly but pushed through the nausea. Some of the farmers weren’t so fortunate, as they stopped to retch. Aliss and Mordruk had already rounded a corner ahead of him, and as Grimmyr followed, he was taken aback by the number of creatures emerging from the well past the edge of town. Will there be no end to them? he thought. Mordruk uttered a desperate prayer under his breath, and Grimmyr sensed that he and Aliss had not yet faced a force of such size here.
The creatures were reptilian humanoids with mottled gray scaly hides and bony protrusions the length of their spines made more prominent by their hunching posture. Their heads and tails resembled those of cave lizards, and they wore rudimentary hides and wielded simple clubs, if they carried any weapons at all. Each and every one of them exuded that earthy stench. Many wore necklaces of stone chunks on leather cords; Grimmyr found them familiar but couldn’t place why.
The next hour was a grueling struggle against the odds. The townsfolk fought the best they could, holding back the monstrous tide, but it was clear they would eventually be overwhelmed. Aliss cleaved through torsos with her blade, smirking all the while until Grimmyr could see her arms growing weary. Mordruk called down divine magic to keep her and the farmers standing, though even Grimmyr knew such power would not last forever. For his part, Grimmyr waded into the throng of creatures, swinging his flail in wide sweeps and relying on his armor to turn aside claw, tooth, and club. The field became littered with piles of corpses of the creatures… and sadly, more than a few villagers.
A bellow drew everyone’s attention back to the well, where something struggled to emerge. Though this new creature shared some similarities to the ones they had been fighting, its hide was the red of fresh clay and it towered over the others, only a foot or two shorter than Grimmyr. It dragged a stone maul behind as it stomped toward a villager.
Grimmyr protects a villager from a xulgath spinesnapper. Art by Pixoloid Studios.
“No! Face me!” bellowed Grimmyr, knowing a strike from that hammer could crush a skull. That got the creature’s attention, and it came charging toward him. He blocked the first blow with the haft of his own weapon, but the second hit him square in the chest, almost winding him. With a grunt, Grimmyr swung his flail in an upward motion against the creature’s chin, snapping its neck. The maul fell to the ground, and the grass around the weapon’s head began to turn brown almost instantly.
Grimmyr knew what he needed to do next.
He sprinted back into town, toward the village green. With a mighty strike from his flail, he shattered the stone plinth. A small explosion of force sent him stumbling backward. He lost his balance and fell, hitting his head against a tree stump and knocking him out.
When he awoke, Aliss and Mordruk were standing above him. “What did you do, new guy?” Aliss asked.
“The stone. It was calling to them.”
“The fight left ‘em as soon as you smashed it,” Mordruk said. “The townsfolk must have dredged it up out of the well. How did you know?”
Grimmyr smiled weakly, the aches and pains of the battle catching up to him. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I’m here to keep you all safe.”
Jason Keeley (he/him)
Senior Designer
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