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[h3][color=cee009]Yellow Rot Troll[/color][/h3]
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The minotaur, Gentle, felt the barest whisper in the back of his mind. Even before Brynan's words could dawn on him, some little bit of divinity in his heart cried out to get away, not to touch it. But, instead, his head was already ramming into the face of the troll before him. As soon as contact was made it folded inward sickeningly, like an overripe fruit, as black puss oozed from it's putrid mouth and nose. Yet, the beast seemed hardly perturbed at it's even more deformed head. The puss itself, however, burnt the skin of any living being it touched.

At the same moment, Solvieg the dwarf had saddled himself behind the large head of the troll itself. It was not unlike riding a bag filled with sludge. With a punch, two, of his knuckles the troll's skin was split and more strange bodily fluids began to leak and splatter outward. Simply being in contact with the beast at all hurt, a sick feeling like poison or disease sapping at one's spirit.

An arrow from the ranger Imalessa then soared through the air, and struck straight into the left side of the terrible beast. It's skin feebly attempted to heal over the wound even as it bled black corrupted blood around the shaft, but the impact of it combined with the assaults of the other two companions made the entire troll stumble back a step.

The troll reached out a 3-fingered hand and grasped wildly at the Minotaur, trying to grab it close as it opened it's mouth up for a bite. It's breath was pure death.

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[h3][color=5ae305]Two-headed Rot Troll[/color][/h3]
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Just as the troll's claws were about to rake down towards Naldir, Brynan's twin swords bit across it's legs and caused it to abandon the attack at the last moment just to steady itself with one hand. Wisely, the half-elf slid clear of the beast, the slick mud of Torvelt covering her front completely now. The Troll let out a grunt as it stopped it's fall, and then turned four bloodshot eyes full of fury onto Brynan.

Then, that number was cut down to two eyes. Stur's axe bit hard into the back of the troll's second head, just missing the neck, and slid into it almost too easily. Whatever life was left in the eyes of that head blinked out. However, the axe caught hard on some fragment of bone as a spray of poisoned blood fanned out from the wound. Stur would find his grip on the axe slick with rot blood, and difficult to pull it free of the ruined head.

It was at that moment that Ola's blade joined the fray. It found truly in the troll's other leg, finishing the work that Brynan's had started. Tendon and muscle was sliced through, and the troll fell down to one knee just as it was attempting to swipe at Brynan. The troll's one living head was blazing fury and agony in equal measure, roaring out in either pain or hate.

Then it pulled it's head back, hocked up the most disgusting loogie any person here had ever heard, and spit it at Brynan. It was a cantelope-sized glob of horror and bile.

Meanwhile, at the wagons, Zosimos could see her effect on the horses immediately. They fell into almost a sleepy haze as they ignored the carnage happening just yards away. On one of the cart's wet posts blazed a hooded torch, giving a little bit of light against the falling dusk.