Mer Fuhgoad D'Got
As the tall blue giant summoned her birds, the flavor of her magic became apparent. Flavor, indeed. Her fire birds stretched out a blaze in a wall before them, cutting their clearing off from the oncoming sound of warriors. Two score of these aforementioned 'barbarians' seemed to be racing toward them, but something was off. Mer Fuhgoad D'Got did not like the pit forming in her stomach. The sounds of their cries could easily be for fear as for fighting. The fire, however, was a certainty, and something that would either prove a strategic help, or an un-containable disaster.
In a flash, Mer produced the reagents she required, the bundle of asters serving to anchor the concoction to their locale. With a splash of mundane and a sprinkling of exotic ingredients, the alchemist muttered the phrases required to ignite the brew. Tipping the container passed her yellowing teeth, the Dwarf began to shudder and shake. The transformation began to grow and stretch her body.
In a matter of seconds, in the place of Mer Fuhgoad D'Got stood a great Ogre towering fifteen feet, her clothing melting into loin cloth and leather shoulder pads, studded with rusted steel spikes. Her jaw distended into the giant's maw, filled with jutting teeth and tusks. The staff in her hand, too, changed shape into a great club the size of a tree. The visage was made all the more terrifying by the green bile spilling from the corners of her mouth in steady splashes and sprays.
The bile Ogre lurched forward to the edge of the burning swath of land in front of them. Rearing back for a moment, the Ogre tilted and opened its gaping mouth of tusks and pointed teeth. After a moment, the sound of a great gurgling came from the creature as a torrent of bile erupted from its face, shooting across the fire like a powerful, putrescent hose to quell the flames in a direct path ahead of them. As the Ogre moved, it continued to belch the bile, making its way across the wall until it had cleared a path to the oncoming barbarian horde.
The bile spent, the Ogre turned back for a moment to survey the actions of the others. The path through the fire had been secured; about ten to fifteen feet wide was soaked with bile and would be safe to use to cross the blaze, as long as the fire didn't grow too much further. Whoever these barbarians were, they now had a narrow path of egress through the fire, should they choose to continue toward them. The Ogre stood in the center of the path through the fire, flames whipping around it. Its club was not raised in combat, but rather dragged behind. If these barbarians were indeed fleeing and not fighting, Mer feared the source of whatever could cause such a horde to run with such reckless abandon.