These Spirit of the Grove... their beauty masked a truly terrifying efficiency and scary presence.
The battle, if it could even be called that, was over almost before it began. Trapped by the Giant Golems' unyielding taunt, the Mercenary Group were helplessly exposed to the Spirits' drifting clouds of poison.
Caught between unstoppable force and insidious decay, they were annihilated with brutal speed.
Some met their end as unrecognizable pulp beneath the Golems' stony feet; others simply melted away, consumed by the Spirits' venom.
Within minutes, the forest floor was cleared. Fifty-plus hardened mercenaries, knights and mages both, were gone, returned to dust, or perhaps to the gods they believed in.
Only one remained upright, barely. Garrick, the Tenth Circle Dragon Slayer, swayed precariously in the center of the carnage.
The poison worked its way through him too; his skin held a deathly green pallor, sweat beaded on his pale forehead.
