The forest ahead opens up into a small clearing. A fallen Darkwood lays across the back of the grassy yard. Resting atop this thick tree is the redheaded girl seen earlier. A golden lantern, similar to the one seen in Lizmilla’s cottage, burns bright next to her. She wears the emerald scaled dress as before, and appears relaxed and almost indifferent to the presence of your group and the slow encroachment of the soldiers.
She turns her head and looks across the grassy yard. Her eyes illuminate with the same amber glow as before.
“I must admit.” She calls out towards the group. “I didnt think you were going to show.” She smiles and nods her head. “Good form. I respect that.”
Your group advances to the edge of the clearing. Margo holds up her hand and her soldiers stop just inside the tree line. The stretch of open ground appears to be roughly 100 feet across. Trees surround this clearing on all sides. Nymegan sits on the fallen tree directly across from everyone.
Nymegan calls out. “Bishop! Bring them forward!”
With that, two humanoid figures appear from the shadows, followed by a dark scaled dragon. The creature arches his back and slithers out from the trees. His wings flex and open behind him. A thick scare engulfs the space where his right eye should be. The creature’s breath plums in the cold night air as he tries to control his rage. His barbed tail swings high behind him like an angry cat. In his true form, he is 30 feet long and 15 feet tall.
The two captives move slowly out into the clearing standing 20 feet in front of the girl. Burlap sacks cover their heads and their hands are bound behind their backs.
“You have taken what rightfully belongs to my master.” Bishop growls. “Give us Eutropia now, and these two will live.”
The girl gracefully swings her legs under her body and slides off the tree to the ground. “Easy Bishop. There is no reason to be impolite.” She tells her henchmen with a wave of her hand.
The two wait for someone within your group to respond. After a few seconds of silence, the girl realizes her mistake. “Oh… where are my manors. We are being rude Bishop?” She motions to the hoods covering the heads of their prisoners and the Wyvern snatches the sack off the first captive. Golden curls are shaken free as Felicity, the faun taken at Lizmilla’s cottage, gasps for fresh air.
“She sings like a honeyed hymn.” Nymegan exclaims. “But would taste even sweeter.” She boasts. “A valuable gift, is she not?”
Without waiting for a reply, Bishop removes the hood of the second prisoner. A gray haired man stands proud and defiant. A cloth gag is tied around his mouth. He turns his head and glares at the young redhead biding his time and waiting for vengeance.