“Six” Garrett counted and frowned. He could only recover six of his bolts from the hideously disfigured bodies of the ogres. Garrett mused to himself that he really couldn’t tell the difference between the live ones and dead ones if they all lied still, they were that ugly without the burns, cuts and holes. “The burnt ones probably smell better than the live ones though.”
He quickly moved on, surveying his equally battered companions. Bral was reinforcing the barricades on the main keep doors. Zai and Iyanlo were quickly stripping the bodies for anything useful.
He helped Beldal to his feet “Sorry about the stray bolt, that usually doesn’t happen.”
Beldal’s usual humor had left him and he could only wince in pain as he moved about. His powers were almost spent. Exhaustion wore heavily on them all.
Bral returned exclaiming “That’s as good as she’s gonna get.”
“Is it a good thing that the ogre Army is locked outside or is it a bad thing that we’re locked inside with that she-snake?” Zai questioned.
“Doesn’t matter” Garrett huffed, sliding the bolt back into his quiver after a quick wiping “We’ll have to deal with them both at some point soon.”
Beldal finally chirped in “An old human once told me a tale about a party of dwarves and a single halfling who escaped near death at the hands of a goblin horde only to find themselves surrounded by talking wolves.”
The other’s stared blankly.
“He described it as ‘jumping out of the pan and into the fire’.”
“Which part are we at?”