"I...wonder," Eilieen murmurs.  She glances about with some concern.  "I have exhausted my goddess' favour for the day, and I'm certain others find themselves less-than-optimal.  Might it be better to rest for the night somewhere safe, then return here in daylight, refreshed and readied?"

The priestess cocks an eyebrow at the searching Aarnr.  "It might be more easy to discover the axe in full daylight as well," she murmurs.  "Or, by that time, convince Aarnr that yours is sufficient, Fergus."

Standing with the others Aramil again wonders at the sense of a city slicker like himself running off willy nilly into the countryside seeking adventure and other noteworthy exploits to make the greatest ballad ever told. So far it has nearly cost him his life, and certainly the life of one friend, and most of his sanity, though his sanity is slowly returning. Looking at the tower there seems nothing notable and the half-elf seems quite taken with the idea of resting and starting again tomorrow.

While Aarnr is busy searching for the soon-to-be-his axe amidst the wreckage of the broken palisade, without much success it seems, his companions are equally busy studying the soon-to-be-plundered tower.

Corian pays particular attention to the doors, "I feel that the lower entance would provide easier access." he opines thoughtfully, "While it does appear to have been made more sturdy, none of the boards have been affixed to the surrounding walls."

"Perhaps whoever reinforced it still intended to use it as a means of ingress and egress."

"Yer wha?" Colwyn responds, still eyeing the wall wistfully.  "Oh... yer reckons it might be bein' open?"

Eilien's suggestion brings a grin from the rogue.  "Bloody good plan that. i could be doin' with some kip.  Who wants ter tell Aarnr that it's bein' time ter stop playin' an' get ready fer bed?"

This message was last edited by the GM at 20:27, Fri 15 Feb 2013.

Erista looks off towards Aarnr, or rather, towards the sound of his voice.  "Maybe we should just let him work it out?  On his own, like?" she suggests.  "Meantime, we should pick a spot and get some food going.  Bad news always goes down better with food.  Good news, too, come to think of it, but nobody ever says that, do they?"

Aramil looks at the little halfling and nods in agreement with her statement. He wouldn't like to try and stop Aarnr from doing what he wanted, especially when he has something in mind. "Not used to organising the camping ground I'm happy to go with your suggestions, but I"m very capable at getting dinner on when we are set up." he comments hoping that dinner and a bed will soon be available.

As the groups intent turns toward spending the night within the crumbling ruins of the keep, Ozzy sighs, his shoulders slumped as he catches another whiff of his clothing. Knowing he will never be able to sleep well wrapped in such a stench, he wanders over to the well, looking for a bucket, a rope, and the hope that it hasn't run dry yet.

As the others talk about finding a place to camp, Ozzy makes his way across to check the nearest potential source of water for bathing and cleaning his soiled clothes.  There is an old bucket near the well, mostly intact, thought the rope attached to it has rotted away.

Peering down the well itself reveals only darkness more profound than the blackest of nights, but in a stroke of pure luck Ozzy almost falls into the abyss as part of the wall gives way when he leans against it.  The resulting splashes, echoing up from the depths, certainly give an indication that there is, at least, something wet down there.

Aarnr, meanwhile, picks up another useless stick with the intention of throwing it at something, only to find that it is almost entirely unsuited to the task, due to having an axe blade attached to one end, which spoils its balance...

"... sheep-bitin', elf-skinned, goatish, clackdish !"  Aarnr finishes triumphantly, his prayers answered as he discovers himself holding the much sought after axe.

His good humour, however is short-lived as he returns to his comrades-in-arms to find them deep in discussion regarding the merits of a good night's sleep. "We're done here then ?" he inquires puzzledly, "Thou think there's naught else in this froggin' pile of stones that would have been disturbed by us dealin' with the orc's an' their pets ?"

"The minstrel has the right idea," the priest notes approvingly as Ozzie continues the demolition of the crumbling structure.

"Well," Erista reasons, "If there is anything, then either it sleeps at night like us and it'll leave us alone until morning, or it sleeps by day in which case we woke it up and it'll be groggy, giving us the advantage."

She wanders over towards Ozzy, watching him look into the well - although it must be admitted she stays a good five feet back.  "There's been enough rain the last few days," she points out.  "Might do better to just look for a good pooling, with all the broken stone around here."

"See, that's bein' the sorta thing it's bein' good ter know." Colwyn points out as Erista wanders off.  "If'n some bugger lives in there, it's bein' good ter know which 'e is... jus' headin' fer a bit öf shut-eye, or jus' thinkin' of 'avin' 'im  a bite of brekkie.  Could be that infermation's turnin' out ter be vital, like."

"Tha's why I shoud be climbin' up ter look in the window.  I mean, me'n'Aarnr was lookin' in the other window, an' that's 'ow we was knowin' 'bout the bloody spiders."

He looks about to see if anybody supports his plan, then hits upon a new argument, "Yer never knows, might be that there's bein' a good place ter sleep up there, an' 'ere's we, all plannin' ter bed down in the dirt down 'ere."

Fergus waits for somebody to make a decision.

He can see the sense in stopping and resting, though he's certain that Aarnr at least will want to press on.  At first, Fergus had thought this would mean leaving the keep and finding a good spot in the woods but having turned his mind to the forest outside the walls and the fires around the keep's perimeter, Fergus decides that a secure place within the walls might be better.

"I'll give you a boost, Colwyn."

Fergus goes to stand close to the wall of the tower, where he can help Colwyn start his climb.

"Oh, very good plan, Colwyn, Fergus!"  Eilieen, quite overcome with the idea of having a rest and - dare one hope? - the opportunity to cleanse, hops in place and claps her hands together with giddy delight.  "Please, please find us a place where we might spend a few hours in slumber.  And warmth.  And not being rained upon."

Spiderwebs and dust?  Unpleasant, but she can deal with that if it means they can actually sleep.

"With any luck, there might even be an old bathtub!" she exclaims to Oswald with ridiculous optimism.

"Could be more of those fobbin' spiders !" Aarnr agrees enthusiastically with Colwyn's assessment.  The priest tucks his newly-aquired axe through his belt as he latches on to this new venture.

Bathtub, eh ?  His brow furrows as he ponders on this.  Some sort of oath used by the denizens of these strange lands, perhaps ?  Certainly worth adding to his repertoire ...  Thou rancid, fish-baitin' bathtub !  Yes, that'd do froggin' nicely.

Near the well, Ozzy pulls a coil of rope from his pack. Kneeling, he takes the necessary time to secure the bucket to the rope then grins happily as he hefts it over the edge and lowers it down, hoping to pull up a bucket of water or two to help wash out his clothes before bedding down for the night. He hears the others discuss the possibility of sleeping inside, looking up at the window so high above the ground and making no effort to volunteer to climb just yet. He was far more concerned with ridding himself of the stench of urine soaked clothing before worrying about scaling some wall just before nightfall. After pulling up a pail of water, he strips down and begins the process of laundering.

Taking a few moments to drop his pack and much of his gear, Colwyn gladly avails himself of Fergus' offer of aid.  It seems to make all the difference, as the rogue goes up the decrepit wall with ease.  He catches hold of the sill of the narrow window, hoists himself up, and peers into the interior.  At which point he scrambles back down far more quickly than he had ascended.

Pale faced, he raises a finger to his lips in a signal for everybody to stay quiet, then says, in hushed tones, "I doesn't reckon there's bein' a tub, Eilieen, unless'n it's be'ind the bloody ogre what's sleepin' in there."

"Ogre?"  Eilieen blinks, working through the little she knows of such beasts in her head.  Ogres.  Large, nasty creatures.  Smelly.  Filthy.  Dangerous to billy goats...no, wait, that's trolls.  Somewhat obscene, depending on whether or not they're of the Ral or Grenadier tribe.

Also, they eat people.

"Well, enough of that," she staunchly states.  "That thing must be defeated before it consumes any more innocents.  But are we in any condition to do so?  Two of our strongest are hurt, our magic and divine forces are at a low ebb..." Pausing, she glances about, then quickly looks back to the middle of the group, face carefully blank.  "...and Oswald is grossly unprepared, being naked."

"Ogre !"  Aarnr's eyes light up at the challenge.  Large, nasty creatures.  Smelly.  Filthy.  Dangerous to billy goats.  Somewhat obscene.  Also, they eat people.

Yes, he's got an awful lot in common with them.  Though technically speaking consuming the hearts of the mightiest of your foes so as to gain their courage probably doesn't count.

While Eilieen counsels caution, the big priest has his axe out and is halfway to the crumbling stone stairs when he feels Fergus' disapproving gaze upon him, bringing the enthusiastic approach to an abrupt halt.

Remembering a certain conversation with his agricultural friend along the lines of 'not getting your friends killed', Aarnr shuffles back to the gathering with bad grace, to catch the tail end of the priestess's comments regarding Oswald's state of undress.

"Good lad," he nods approvingly.  "Scare the froggin' nargals off the puttock !  We should all ..."

Having been here and there and then elsewhere, Bilfro sighs heavily.

"My precious.  Nowhere.  Nowhere!"

The woe is strong in this one.

"Oh, is it laundry day already?" he asks in surprise upon seeing Ozzy doing his.  Peering at the sky and sticking a finger up he murmurs and shrugs.  Then he stirs and starts jogging about the area.

"I need my gear!  It must be near!  Oh dear!  But where?"

With all of the sudden attention, Ozzy actually blushes from head to toe. His small frame trembles as he hastily works on a final rinse for his pants, slapping them on the side of the well and twisting out most of the water. Once done, he struggles to pull the damp garment on, nearly tripping onto his face when his heel gets caught halfway through pulling on the first pantsleg. Finally finding both the balance and strength needed to work his way back into his pants, he sighs, turning back to work a little longer on the shirt. Better half-dressed than not dressed with all the talk of Ogres lurking about the ruins. Shivering, he wonders if any of them will ever come to enough agreement to at least start a fire for the evening meal. While he scrubs, he watches Bilfos panic with amused interest.

"I would posit that we have just two choices at this stage." Corian suggests quietly, "We can either leave the area, post haste, or we can assault the vile ogre.  Retreat would certainly be the quietest option, in my opinion.  However, we did slay two of the repugnant things on the road here, so one should present less difficulty."

"The third option, that we should simply settle down in the fortress for a rest while the monster yet lives, is not really viable, as it places us in considerable danger should it wake up during the night and decides that it's feeling a tad peckish."

A brief pause, and then the mage adds, "Indeed, for all we know, it may be largely nocturnal.  It might, in fact, wake up at any moment."

"Nocturnal ?  Nah, they're froggin' meat-eaters," Aarnr advises their patron, though the young codpiece seems to be favouring dealing with the Ogre sooner, rather than later ... as least given a certain, perhaps biased, interpretation of his words.

"That door's pretty well sealed shut," he waves the axe in the direction of the upper portal, "but we should be able to get the one down here open without much gleepin' trouble."

"Unless anyone wants to froggin' knock politely an' wait for the toad-snouted bladder to poke his nose out ?"

Still making certain not to stare in Ozzy's direction, Eilieen misses the amusing twists and turns.  Instead, she struggles to follow the direction of the conversation, only to surrender in the face of Aarnr's vicious beating of the language.

There's a pause to consider Bilfro's gadding about, and a slow rise of the eyebrows.

Then it's back to the ogre (who might actually have Bifro's 'stuff').  "You may have a point, Corian," she admits.  "Though I am loathe to trust to luck the lives of our friends.  One blow from an ogre might lay one of them down for good, especially without healing to be had."  Pacing, she ponders possibilities.  "Perhaps we should make the attempt, assuming we can enter the beast's lair quickly and quietly?  If we take it by surprise...."

'Honorable combat' certainly isn't something taught in Zadastha's temple ('All is fair, etc, etc'), nor would Eilieen subscribe to such values with the lives of her friends on the line.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:36, Mon 25 Feb 2013.

Ozzy, finally cleaned and damp and still not entirely smelling like his wonderful self, squeegees his pinky finger in one ear to clear the water as he says, " An Ogre? No foolin'? ...I thought you guys were just trying to scare me!" Shaking the water from his hair once more he adds, " Well, if there IS an Ogre in residence, I for one, will not sleep well until its dealt with. So where is it?" He looks toward the tower with the barricaded door, then to the Aarnr both expectantly and questioningly, wondering why the big man hasn't launched an all-out attack on the Ogres presumed chamber of residence. " Do you want me to go knock and see if he wants to come out and play?"

Fergus, standing with his back to the tower wall, has a good view of Oswald's antics at the well.  He smiles and tries, unsuccessfully, not to laugh, though he does cover his mirth with one broad hand.

Once he has recovered his composure, Fergus suggests, "No need to be shy, Aarnr.  I reckon you're right.  We all saw what those ogres did back on the road.  We should stop this one now."  For all his attempts at grim resolution, Fergus is still a little reluctant to talk of killing things.

"We don't need to go charging in though.  If we can get in downstairs we could set a fire and smoke it out.  And then, like, we could put a rope across the stairs or some'at and trip it an' all." Fergus' careful articulation starts to break down at the thought of what, for him, is a remarkably clever idea.

Ozzy smiles broadly, admiring the sudden inspired bit of tactical skill revealed by what he had always considered a brute farm boy. " Genius Idea Fergus! A little smoke, a little fire, a panicked Ogre tripping over the doorstep and right under the cold steel of the gathered heroes! Pure genius man!" He grabs for his pack, looking for pen and paper with which to write it all down. Even if it didn't work, it would certainly make for a good story to tell later. Finding both, he sets them aside and then begins gathering what scraps of wood there are to be found, " I can help with the fire. C'mon everyone, lets get this done so we can have our dinner and get to bed before sunrise."