It seems that an immediate start is not on the cards, since some members of the group have decided that a certain amount of shopping is required before they set out ogre hunting.  While the innkeeper at The Full Moons seems happy to provide victuals for the trip, it seems that there are other supplies which are required.

Fortunately the market square, and the nearby shops, are directly outside the inn, which should make the gathering of said supplies that little bit easier for all concerned.

Colwyn, for example, decides to spend a little money on a quiver and a couple of dozen arrows, replacing those he has lost between Reme and Bard's Gate.  If there is an ogre to be put down, he doesn't want to risk running out of arrows...

Sir Galdean, meanwhile, heads for home to gather up his own armour, weapons, and supplies...

OOC: Last chance to buy stuff before the Grand Ogre Hunt...

With her new healing kit ready, Eilieen isn't concerned.  She has the necessary weapons, her (lack of) armor, and her provisions.  "If there's anything anyone believes I need," she notes to the others, "please feel free to speak up.  I am prepared to take criticism."

To a point.

"No, sir," Erista replies.  "Er, miss.  Ma'am?"  She looks up at Eilieen, and settles back on, "Miss.  Um, right.  You look great.  So, Ozzy, how much have we got, exactly?"

Arkan stood near the others, waiting or them as they made last minute preparation and also awaited Sir Galdean's return from his abode.

He had his hood up and stood with his arms folded in front of his chest, making him appear to be an imposing, and slightly sinister figure. The hilt of Crescent Fall poked up over a shoulder, while his many pouched belt with it's odds and ends was wrapped around his waist, it's pouches within easy reach.

"I see you wear no armor lady Eileen, much like myself. Perhaps you might consider a coat of chain; Ogres are known for their large reach." He said to Eileen helpfully. "I can count on my sword skills and other...arts to defend me. I do not know for sure what type of protection you can call upon, aside from your skill with the spear."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:33, Mon 13 Apr 2015.

Eilieen brightens.  "Thank you, Erista!"  But her expression grows more sombre as Arkan speaks.  "A coat...of chain?"  With some distress, she plucks at her gown.  "I...armor?"

The priestess paces in a circle.  "I...that is...armor?" she repeats, halfway between incredulity and dismay.  Wearing oiled metal?  Wearing thick, cumbersome, smelly leather?

"I...er.  Isn't there something else?" she finishes, somewhat plaintively.

OOC - are there armored longcoats in this game?  :)  Arcanis has them, but I doubt this is the same sort of world.

In reply to Erista (msg # 3):

...So, Ozzy, how much have we got, exactly?"

Ozzy sets the heavy bag of coin on the floor, doing a little mental math to account for what has already been paid out for the baths, meals and rooms. " Two thousand two hundred and fifty... and twenny' one silvers." he says in a confidential whisper and a big smile. He didn't want to reveal this to the shopkeeper just yet, so he kept his voice low and used Aarnr as a visual shield.

Aarnr views mathematics as an arcane art, only marginally less dubious than actual magic, besides which, as far as he is concerned, counting goes: one, two, some, a handful, lots of exercise, and kill the big guy first.

But the innate senses of the reaver in his blood tell him Ozzie plans some trickery, so the priest helpfully eyeballs¹ the evil shopkeep to be sure he's not peeking.

Oh wait.  Froggin ...

Aarnr smiles¹ at the shopkeep.

¹ albeit the expression he adopts is well within point blank range of his normal fearsome visage

The market square is a bustling hive of activity, even so soon after breakfast.  Stalls are being set up, and early shoppers are already looking for elusive bargains, hoping to pick up goods before the stall-holders realise the popularity of certain items and bump the prices up.

Then there are the items that it's best to get early - groceries, fresh bread, fruit...

In the middle of the market square a group of entertainers provide music, song and jokes, while a tame bear, small and scrawny, dances for thrown coins.

At one end of the square, the town hall seems to observe the proceedings.  Leaded windows watch the crowd as it starts to build towards its peak, and high up, on a small balcony, a main in gleaming steel plate stands, with folded arms, a brass goblet perched on the rail alongside him.

After a few minutes he is joined by a woman in an elaborate red dress, and the two of them study the market square from their high perch.

OOC: The nearest thing to one of these armoured long coats would be a coat of padded cloth, leather or studded leather.  Or a chainmail bikini.  :p
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:22, Wed 15 Apr 2015.

In reply to Eilieen (msg # 5):

"I...er.  Isn't there something else?" she finishes, somewhat plaintively.

" Sure, sure, there's lotsa' other options! If you can afford 'em." he answers, " Bracers can be quite fashionable and almost as good as a chain shirt! There's dainty little rings too, enchanted to make the blades bounce right off! Problem is, looks like all we'll find here is bread and fruit. We need to find a proper magic shop, hopefully one near an armorer." He stands on his tip-toes, as if a half inch would make any difference in his perspective, scanning in all directions for a wooden sign that didn't advertise foodstuffs.

"It was but a suggestion." Arkan said to Eileen quickly after seeing her getting a bit distressed. "Whatever works best for you, one can move swiftly about without armor after all." He added.

The armor clad man and the lady in red over at the town hall caught Arkan's eye and he gazed at them a moment, wondering if they were a high ranking lord and lady of Bard's Gate.

While he'd gleefully fight a full-grown bear till it's death or his, Aarnr does not like at all the sight of the young cub being forced to entertain these city scum, and briefly considers freeing it, loosing it upon the city, and forcing the man who would enslave any wild creature to dance on pain of having metal thrown at him ... but it seems such pleasures are currently denied him on his grandmother's instructions.

The priest's eye noticed the presence of the man and woman on the balcony above, but save for a brief calculation of distances and wind factors, they interested him not and he gave them no more thought.

Ozzie's description of what marvels may be found here do intrigue himm however. "They leave these things lying around in these shops of theirs ?" he asks incredulously (and with suspicious politeness, or at least the language is uncolourful).  "How are they not robbed ?  Do not adventurers bold try them in droves, seeking to bear these treasures away ?"

"Oh please, Sir Arkan, do not be offended," Eilieen returns.  "It's just that...I am...ill-accustomed..."  She trails off, but fortunately Oswald has suggestions.  "Rings, Oswald?  Bracers?"  Bracers.  Hm.  Somewhat masculine, but if they were filigreed....and the rings do sound appealing.  "Perhaps I shall keep my eye open for those," she muses.

"Though I sadly doubt we have sufficient coin at present, despite your largesse."

"I's been 'earin' of them places what's sellin' them sorts of thing." Colwyn confirms, sagely.  "There's not bein' many if them, mind, an' they's chargin' a arm an' a leg, or maybe two legs, fer what they's sellin'.  It's workin' out cheaper, an' easier, ter get a gang of yers together an' be robbin' the stuff from some dragon 'oard."

He looks about, being taller than Ozzy, "Even in a town like what this is, or even a real big place, like Tsar or Reme, yer'll be lucky ter find one shop what's sellin' them there magic gew-gaws.  An' they'll be costin' whatever the bugger what's runnin' the shop's askin' fer them.  There's always some cove what'll pay whatever 'e's askin', an' enough magic ter stop 'venturers as might want ter take the things without payin'."

He nods towards Fergus, "If'n yer's bein' lucky yer'll maybe be findin' some temple what'll sell yer a 'ealin' 'lixir or a charm ter ward off curses, but if'n yer's lookin' fer somethin' like the sword what Fergus were gettin' from the priestess in Fair'ill, or the pig-sticker what Aramil were findin' in that ol' farm 'ouse... well no bugger sells things like them, far as I's knowin'.  Folk as 'as them things is 'angin' on ter them."

The rogue doesn't look at the balcony at all.  In fact, he is very careful to look everywhere except the balcony.  "We might be 'avin' more luck on another road.  Away from the crowd, an' all the pryin' eyes." he suggests.

Fergus nods, and explains to Aarnr, "As I heard it, the folk who make these things can look after themselves, with spells or blades.  And they're rich enough to hire a lot of guards to help them.  So you try to rob one of these places, and the wizard that owns it turns you into a small frog, then the guards stamp on you."

"And they laugh while they do it."

"Fergus is bein' right." Colwyn confirms, "It's takin' a lot of magic ter make these things, an' if'n yer's 'avin' that much magic, then yer's 'avin' enough ter spare so's yer can be turnin' a thief's brains ter puddin' an' makin' 'is legs fall off, an' all."

Aarnr nods, as if he'd known this all the time, while silently vowing to raze Bard's Gate to the ground after all.  Any place that suffers wizards to turn people into ... he can barely think the word without leaping the counter and putting the shopkeep to the sword ... frogs ... deserves swift and fiery retribution.

Adding that small task to his list of 'things to do after pillaging Rappan Athuck, slaughtering his comrades and winning leadership of his tribe', the priest turns his attention to the matter of outfitting the expedition.

"We should buy swords and armour for all of us," he suggests to Ozzie, sagely.

" Great idea!" Ozzy says to his blood brother, " Magic, armor weapons, ....I still don't see anything but cabbages and carrots!" he stands on his toes, leaning left and right but unable to see much through the crowd of morning shoppers. He did his best to stay close to Aarnr, the gold burning a hole in his pocket. He was anxious to convert the coin into something less cumbersome.

"Maybes over there." Colwyn suggests, pointing to the far side of the square.  "The costly stuff's bein', like as not, in the real shops, not on the marketplace."

The rogue starts to move in the same direction, and suddenly cries out excitedly, "There!  See?  A sword on that there sign.  I'll be wagerin' as that's bein' a cove what's makin' swords an' stuff."

To save time, please send me a PM with what your character would like to buy.  I'll go through it, let you know what's available in the town, and let you all know what you can get before the Bank of Ozzy closes.  If you don't want anything, let me know that too.

Under Colwyn's urging, the shopping expedition moves across the market square, towards a shop which does, in fact, turn out to be owned by a merchant who buys weapons from smiths and sells them at not unreasonable prices.

From there the adventurers move on, buying supplies and gear at other establishments in the nearby streets, before locating a purveyor of potions, scrolls and assorted minor magical items.

And a couple of hours later, laden with the spoils of their campaign to liberate Ozzy of his wealth, they return to The Full Moons, where they find Sir Galdean already waiting for them...

Colwyn smiles at the ageing knight, then takes a bite from a honey-dipped apple on a stick, "This 'ere's bein' right good." he declares, "You ever been 'avin' one?"

"Not since I was a child, no." Galdean replies, stepping back as the rogue waves the stickily dripping piece of fruit in his direction.  He uses a gloved hand to wipe at a spot on his mail that he believes may have been spattered with a few stray drips of honey.  "I find them a trifle messy, what with having a beard and all,"

"Quarrel."  Bilfro nods empathically.

"Nay, quarrels!"  Revelation strikes him.  Yes, he can see it now.

"Thirty-seven of them."  A good number, or at least adequately good.  Ish.

"No armour, I need mobility."  He nearly trips on his own robe, no doubt underlining that in armour he would have fallen flat on his face.

Arkan waited by the others as they completed their shopping. He did not need to purchase anything of note, having already restocked essentials during his time in Bard's Gate, before meeting up with the group.

When it was done he was unsurprised to find Sir Galdean already awaiting their arrival. "Do you not have any family to bid goodbye to Sir Galdean, or whom to return any precious heirlooms after the deed with the ogre is done?" Arkan could not help asking curiously.

Aarnr was bored with shopping barely a few paces from the tavern, and after a terrible afternoon watching avaricious shopkeeps steal the coin he and his companions bled for, is considering getting a head start on burning down Bard's Gate.

But the eagerness of Sir Galdean to rush off and die gloriously does make up for all that and helps the priest ignore his mistake in thinking Colwyn had purchased an admittedly rather small and insignificant ichor covered mace ...

Bilfro is in fine form and seems keen to pick a fight, though if there's as many of the beasts to quarrel with as he supposes ... well even Aarnr might need a bit of a hand with them.

All in all, it should be a rather substantial bloodletting, now that the shopping trip has been officially declared over and out.

Sir Galdean surveys the group, "Been stocking up on essential supplies, I see,  Well that you have, an ogre can be a fearsome creature, especially when cornered, and hard pressed.  I suspect that I shan't be the only one to fall beneath it's terrible blows, but you may rest assured that I shall mention your souls to Muir when I stand before her, that she may command the priests to record your names in the book of fallen heroes."

The knight, himself, wears well-kept mail and a surcoat of white silk, emblazoned with the image of a sword, point upwards.  His boots are sturdy, if a little worn.  A simple steel helm and a white cloak, edged with red, complete his outfit.

A sheathed longsword and a shield, bearing the same sword emblem as the surcoat, are propped against the wall beside the knight's seat, and a simple steel helm with a mail coif sits atop the pommel of the sword.

"Do you need to buy more, or shall we set off upon our quest?"

" I could spend all day shopping!" Ozzy says, " But taking down a bully ogre could be just as fun I suppose! Let's go!"

"Impressive, sir."  Eilieen nods approvingly at Sir Galdean's accoutrements.  She hasn't changed anything about her own, really; Ozzy hasn't needed to sport her any coin on this day.  "Well, we've defeated a Wyvvort, so you may find yourself surprised at how things turn out.  Who knows?  Perhaps we shall come across a trove of coin and you'll find yourself comfortably set for the rest of your life.  You might open a school of swordsmanship, or the like."

Better that than the alternative, she considers.

"I am well-prepared," she concludes.

"Perhaps you misunderstood." Sir Galdean replies to Eilieen, "The rest of my life will be insufficient for the task of setting up such a school.  Old age and infirmity will see to that, and probably soon enough.  The sole purpose of this quest is to ensure that I die in battle, rather than in my bed in a handful of days, thus fulfilling the requirements of my order, and ensuring a place of honour at the side of Muir."

Ozzy's declaration of readiness brings a smile, though.  "Then let us be away, my friends, to slay this vile menace!  Bring forth your noble steeds, and let us find this ogre and put it in its place!"

The cart and the oxen are fetched out of the inn's stables, bringing a chuckle from the knight.  A chuckle which dies on his lips as sundry equipment is placed into the cart, and Fergus and Aarnr take their positions on the driver's bench.  With a shrug, and some little difficulty, Galdean mounts his horse and starts away along the street.  There are a few ragged cheers from interested bystanders who had watched the unfolding events...

The bold ogre slayers make their way through the streets of Bard's Gate, and out through one of the smaller gates in the surrounding wall, where they soon find themselves travelling along a rutted and pot-holed road which leads across an expanse of open farmland.  In the distance, the eaves of the forest can be seen, filled with gloomy shadows.

"In yonder murk lives our quarry." Galdean calls over his shoulder, his voice filled with excitement...

Aarnr cheers up further as the city falls away behind him (though despite the dark looks he casts back at the walls, it seems the gods are not yet ready to wax wrathful and scour the sewer-hole that is Bard's Gate from the face of the earth.

Still, even though it's a nice day, it is good to be back in the wilds, and makes pretending to be helpful and considerate less of a froggin' onerous chore.  Allowing Fergus to drive the oxen, lest he be tempted to have them race Sir Galdean's steed to the creature's lair, the priest keeps an eye out for trouble, and is at last rewarded by the favoured of Muir's announcement that they are drawing near.

"We'll have to go in on foot !" Aarnr suggests enthusiastically.  "I hope thou die gloriously," he tells the Knight. "And thou may go to thy gods in the sure knowledge that we will carve bloody vengeance in your name "

"Indeed!  That's the spirit!" the knight agrees cheerfully.  "A glorious death, and bloody vengeance.  The stuff of legend, and a tale to be told in these parts for decades to come, I'll be bound."

He eyes the edge of the forest suspiciously, "We can ride in a little way, I think.  This may be a poor road, but it does run a little way into the forest, at least as far as the old iron mines.  We can tether the beasts there, and search the surrounding greenwood afoot."

Colwyn pipes up, "If'n we's bein' lucky, that there bloody ogre'll be livin' at the mines, an' savin' us a bit of a walk.  It's bein' good ter get inter a fight when yer's not bein' dead tired."

A comment which brings a happy nod from Galdean, "Less tired means more strength to fight the monster."

Fergus brings the cart to a halt just a few yards from the edge of the forest.  "What's bein' up, Fergus?" Colwyn asks.

In reply, the farmer's son raises an arm and points towards the road ahead, beneath the shadows of the forest canopy.  A large tree lays there, blocking the path.  The trunk ends in a splintered mess, which matches the shattered remains of a tree stump still rooted in the earth nearby.

"Looks like we're walking."

Eilieen mopes along with the group, less-than pleased with the situation.  While she understands Sir Galdean's point, she can't help but feel there must be something more he can do.  It's against her principles to stand by and watch a man throw himself into his death...but then, it's his choice.  And she can't interfere with that.

Hopping down from the cart, she absently kicks a stone from the road before studying the broken tree.

"That's...very strong," she notes.  "It's broken, not cut.  Green wood, to boot."  Her lips thin.  "Are we certain this is 'just' an ogre?  I didn't think they were strong enough to push down trees that size."

"I pushed down a house," Aarnr remarks proudly, looking to Fergus to confirm his manly prowess.  He is positively beaming now, at the thought that perhaps it's a big ogre ... or indeed maybe even two of them !

Hopping down from the wagon, the priest unsheathes his greatsword, taking a whetstone from the pouch at his belt and proceeds to sharpen the weapon while he waits for everyone else to get themselves organised.

"My blood-brother will ensure your death is sung of forever," he assures Sir Galdean.

Sir Galdean nods, "Yes, very strong.  This should make for a worthy epic, and assure my place at Muir's side."  The knight dismounts and starts to tether his mount to the fallen tree.  If his allies are going to proceed on foot, then he can see no reason why he should not do likewise.

He considers Eilieen's question for a moment, "I have never seen the creature, obviously, though the descriptions I have heard would certainly fit an ogre.  The descriptions also say that it carries a huge club.  Perhaps that is how it smashed the tree?"

Fergus clambers down from the cart and secures the oxen next to the horse, pausing only to pat the necks of all of the animals.  "We beat ogres before." he announces, "We can beat this one too, if our friend doesn't kill it first."  The farmer picks up his axe, his scythe, and the sword, Valkyria.

"Ready." he announces.

"Just what are the descriptions?" Erista asks, in a just-making-conversation sort of tone.

Despite the grim task ahead Arkan had been enjoying the forest stroll, the smell of the pines a welcome respite from the stink of the city. He was an outdoorsy type at heart, and the sight of bright sunlight on a crisp day, as well as greenery of all sorts always lifted his spirits.

The sight of the fallen tree brought him back to the nature of the task at hand though, and he eyed the shattered trunk with trepidation, wondering about the kind of damage such a blow that may have felled this tree could do to a person.

He reached a hand over his shoulder and unsheathed Crescent Fall, the unique ring of the battle blade as it exited it's sheath echoing around them. The blade of the sword was as long as that of a greatsword, but thicker and sharpened on only one side. It also curved slightly near the middle, a technique that allowed for greater cutting power and better balance. Arkan gripped the hilt with both gloved hands, with the blade pointed downwards and to the side.

"I am ready." He said in a hushed voice, his eyes peering ahead from under the dark hood of his cloak.

Ozzy has his lute in hand, tuning it with a hum before striking a chord, "♪ ♫  Sir Galdean came to the dark wood, encountering a broken tree..." he pauses, trying a different chord before once again strumming the first, " Start with C? No, no... E. The good ones always start with E." he mumbles to himself, still working out the melody and lyric "♪ ♫  The green wood had been snapped, the heavy tree broken violently..." Looking up he adds, " Sure, sure. Lets go. Almost have the opening verse together, lets get to the rest of the song." Turning back to the lute, he continues to pick and strum, " ♪ ♫ Brave Sir Galdean held no fear in his heart... He was ready to shred the ogre apart... No, no... I'll Need a minor chord to set the bridge for the next chorus."

"Ah, 'tis good that you asked, my dear." Galdean says, addressing Erista.  "After all, it wouldn't do to attack the wrong monster." he chuckles.

"The rumours speak of a thing, man-shaped but more massive, by far, and with a bestial cast to its features, that stinks like a midden, and is clad in rags which look to be old blankets or the like.  Its head is covered with matted, greasy hair, and it carries a great club."

"One group of hunters encountered it, and say that it threatened them in guttural, broken Common before it attacked.  They only escaped with their lives thanks to superior agility and speed."

The knight takes a moment to remove his helm and mop his brow, before he replaces the headgear and starts walking deeper into the forest, "Now, my friends, let us begin the hunt."

As well as his armour, he bears his shield, and his longsword.  The latter unsheathed and ready for action...

Sir Galdean's description does sound rather familiar, and Ardens is wondering if perchance he's ever been in these woods before (most places with trees look the same to him) ... but of course, he's got a great sword and a great axe, not a great club, so it couldn't possibly be him ...

"Would thou counsel axe or sword, against the hedgep ... the beast ?" he asks the knight's opinion, bordering on politeness, though of course he cares not which weapon he uses and would fight the Ogre with his bare teeth if needed.  Whichever Sir Galdean suggests, he'll take in hand, and the priest is already clad in his chainshirt as is his habit, so he's naught else to do save follow on, alert for any sign of the beast they hunt, poised to hold himself back so the old Justicar can die first.

"Tis a nice day to die," Aarnr suggests as he begins to build up a healthy sweat.

Galdean laughs, "That, my friend, would be a matter of personal choice and normal practice.  I would suggest the sword, but that would be because my order has always used the sword, it being the favoured weapon of Muir.  Now Fergus, over there, he looks like an axe man to me, judging by the easy way he bears his.  He looked a sight less comfortable strapping that sword at his hip.  Aaaah... damn it!"  The knight pauses for a moment, balancing on one leg while he flexes the other.

"Forgive me ladies, my knee freezes from time to time, and causes me some little pain."

"Now, where was I?  Oh yes... I would suggest using the weapon that you feel most comfortable and proficient with."  A smile then, albeit a little rueful, "Given a choice, all else being equal, always use the tool that you know best.  Anything else would be folly, to my mind."

Colwyn grins, "Bein' give a choice, I's reckonin' as it'd be folly not ter be choosin' some other cove ter be doin' yer fightin', an' let 'im be pickin' what he wants ter be usin'."  The rogue thinks, briefly, before adding, "Either that, else a good bow an' a arrow what's been dipped in snake poison."

And so they continue on foot, walking along the rutted excuse for a road, as it leads deeper into the shadow-shrouded forest.

And, after about an hour, they come into a clearing which lays against the base of a cliff.  There is an opening in the cliff, too even to be natural, and an assortment of broken, decrepit carts, barrows and tools lay scattered here and there outside the artificial cave.  Rubble is piled on either side of the dark aperture.

"I's reckonin' as 'ow that'd be the mine." Colwyn suggests, helpfully...

"The sword then," Aarnr swiftly decides, "in thy honour," he is pleased to do so, moved by the knight's intent to sacrifice himself.

The opening in the face of the cliff looks suitably dark and forbidding and in normal circumstances the priest would rush in (as long as Eilieen said it was alright), but today is Sir Galdean's special day, and so he waves his hand to grant the Justicar the honour of leading the way.

"Thine ?" he mumbles questioningly if absently to Colwyn, unsure as to why the rogue would claim this place as his own.

Erista shrugs.  "You claimed a fort for your father," she points out, her face entirely serious.  "If Colwyn wants a hole in the cliff, I reckon it's his."

Aarnr nods dourly at Erista's explanation, vowing to be quicker to put in his claim next time, and idly wondering if any have claimed Bard's Gate yet.

"Bard's Gate." The priest elects to press his claim anyway.

"It's all yours," Eilieen confirms, gripping her spear.  Then, upon reconsideration, she stabs it into the ground, turns away, and blows on her palms for a few heartbeats.  Turning back, she eyes the group with a cool gaze for a moment before taking up the spear once more.

If anyone dares suggest she actually sweaperspired...

Well.  Everyone looks prepared, at least.  Sir Arkan, with his grim face.  Aarnr, eager to continue.  Erista, serious for a change - it doesn't suit her.  Oswald...well, not so ready, focused as he is on the music.  Colwyn, strong Fergus, Bilfro (not so much)...and poor, determined Sir Galdean.  Her stomach turns.

Miserable, Eilieen faces the mine.

"How shall we proceed?  Bring the beast out here to fight?  It seems more practical than attempting to beard it in its lair...."

Sir Galdean smiles, "My thought exactly.  I intend to stand here, in plain view, and challenge the creature to come out and face me in battle.  If it chooses not to come out, then I will be forced to go in after it, though that will be more difficult to plan for, since we don't know the lay of the land, so to speak.  In either case, if there is any life left in it after the battle, then you can all feel free to engage the thing yourselves."

"So, if you would like to take up your positions of choice, I shall issue the challenge as soon as you are all ready."

"Right yer is."  Colwyn says, and moves back away from the mine entrance and a little to one side, where he proceeds to lurk behind a tree, an arrow fitted to his bow.

Fergus takes a place almost directly behind the elderly knight, and perhaps five yards away from him, holding his scythe at the ready.  "Ready." the farmer declares

Showing his lute and loading his sling, Ozzy says, " Ready!" he pauses, adding, " If it don't come out, don't rush in! We can build a fire outside the entry and smoke him out!"

Arkan twirled Crescent Fall absently as he gazed at the dark opening to the mine, the perfectly balanced blade making a hum as it sliced through the empty air. He attempted to focus by emptying his mind so his senses could absorb any movement within the darkness, or indeed the forest around them.

He moved to the side and the back slowly, taking position to the right of and behind Fergus and Sir Galdean.

"I am ready. Beware nothing attempts to ambush us from within the trees." Arkan added in a low voice, in case the Ogre was not inside and somewhere out in the forest, hunting perhaps.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:57, Thu 21 May 2015.

"Thou should spit on them," Aarnr spots Eilieen attempting to warm up her hands ready for combat and is moved to offer his helpful suggestion.

Absently positioning himself for the forthcoming battle, the priest finds himself unexpectedly a few feet in advance of the elderly knight and perforce moves back, muttering politely under his breath, to see what everyone else is doing.

"No, no, no !" the froggin' pignuts his dear friends are far too eager.  "Thou will scare the beast away and the puttu... poor Sir Galdean will never meet his glorious end !"

Aarnr latches onto Arkan's suggestion. "We should hide behind the trees," he says, through clenched teeth, "ready to fall upon the Ogre once it has slain this good man."

Eilieen stares at Aarnr for a long moment.  "Yes," she finally replies to Arkan.  "We should keep a look out.  When we hide.  In the trees.  After smoking the ogre out."  Turning on a heel, she walks toward said trees.  It's more of a totter, really.

Reaching them, she grips the trunk with her free hand, breathing deeply for a long moment.  She'd known this would be hard, but...  Spit?  On my hands?  A sudden sharp shudder shakes the Zadasthan, and she rolls her shoulders in a vain attempt to relax.

"Ugh," Eilieen whispers.  She casts a forlorn glance at Galdean before ducking behind the tree.

Erista looks at Ozzy, shrugs, and looks for a good tree to hide in.  Once she finds one she likes, she asks, "Fergus?  Could you give me a hand up?"

"I shall hide in plain sight.  At least until the beast spots me.  Then I will, ah, strategically relocate, yes."

Bilfro trots off towards the side of the cave opening, muttering something under his breath as he goes.  Once he reaches the cliff in which the opening is, at a decent distance, he looks up at it and spits into his hands.

Fergus, distracted by Erista's request, lowers his weapon and moves over to help her into her chosen tree, a fairly easy task, considering their relative sizes.  Everybody else, meanwhile, takes their own position of choice around the mine entrance.

Bilfro scales the cliff with surprising ease...

Galdean steps forward, and declares in a loud, clear voice, "Vile monster!  I, Sir Galdean deWinter, challenge you to a duel to the death!"

"Wait!" calls Fergus, still out of position...

"Come forth, I command thee in Muir's name, and face your doom!"  He steps forward, three paces, and raises his sword.  "Are you a man or a mouse?" 

Silence descends upon the clearing.

And then, from inside the cave comes a deep, resonating roar, and stones, scree and gravel tumble from the cliff face around Bilfro.  All around the air is filled with the sound of beating wings, as every bird within earshot takes flight.

"Ah... not a mouse, at least." the Justicar of Muir quips as Fergus takes his place behind him once more.

Then footsteps, which seem to shake the very earth, sound from within the mine, and soon after a figure steps out into the light.  It has to stoop to get through the opening, and as it straightens up, it is somewhat taller than the ogres the group have previously faced.  It carries a huge club which it points at Galdean as it responds to his challenge.

"Me eat you up, little man!"

"That's no ogre... that's a giant!" and with that, Galdean charges...

OOC: Now would be a good time for Initiative rolls, just in case the fight is over really quickly.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:13, Fri 22 May 2015.

"A giant of an Ogre," Aarnr agrees happily, eyes shining.  Setting his sword aside for a moment, he takes his own advice, spitting on his hands, before taking the blade up again, peering out from the trees, cautious only to avoid be seen that he not scare the big beast off.

"It shouldn't take it long to slay the old Justicar," the priest assures those nearby, "And then we must pounce !  I shall lead the charge ..."

Arkan's eyes widened as he saw the massive creature exit the mine entrance, feeling the ground rumble with it's steps.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered, backing a few steps and crouching low, gripping his battleblade in both hands with the tip pointed towards the ground.

He watched the aged Justicar charge, hoping for the sake of the old man's legacy he would be able to cut the creature down.

It is a good thing.  Nay, two good things.  Aye, two good things comes upon Bilfro's humble form at the same time, the time it is clear that this is no measly man-eating ogre, but lo, a being much less benign and cuddly, for it is a giant.

The first blessing is being so taken by the sight that he cannot shout out in greeting, in that primitive, howling fashion that, should the owner of said howl live, forces them to shop for new underdrawers the next day, the latest.

The second benediction is being so taken by the sight that he cannot dance in joy at the occasion before him, in that primitive, sprinting fashion that, should the owner of said sprint live, forces them to not only shop for new footwear the next day, but also new limps from the knee down.

While being half giant himself, it was a slightly smaller variant of giant, and thus Bilfro is glad he is above the little behemoth as opposed to underneath its foot in the form of a flat smear.

Unlike the deranged lunitic rushing to meet this insane killing machine.  Bilfro realises, somewhat late, that he should have shopped for larger quarrels.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:25, Sun 24 May 2015.

Arkan looks about nervously, watching for signs of attacks from behind.  Unfortunately the roaring, yelling and general commotion from the clearing prove to be far too distracting for him to notice anything.

Aarnr's guess at the outcome of the fight proves to be a little off...

And up on the cliff face, not quite as out of reach as he would have imagined, Bilfro bides his time.

Galdean charges forward, as best he can with his old leg injury, sword and shield raised.  The giant looks at him, its expression one of confusion.  Clearly it is more used to smaller creatures fleeing in terror before its advance, not rushing towards it intent on doing it harm.

Like confused animals everywhere, it responds by attacking.  The club sweeps in a wide arc, whistling through the air, and... Galdean ducks, evading the blow with ease.  His sword swings upwards and opens a cut in the monster's forearm, eliciting a howl of rage from the bestial creature.

"Take that, foul abomination!"

Then the club rises, to slam back down, felling the knight in a welter of mud and blood as it crushes him to the sodden earth.  The sound of cracking bones can be heard even over the dull thump of the impact...

A high pitched scream of fury and loss echoes through the forest glade and Eilieen bursts out from behind her chosen tree, hurrying straight toward Sir Galdean and the Ogre.  Her spear hangs, almost forgotten, from her left hand as her right hand fumbles for her holy symbol.

Initiative 16.
Intent: Check Galdean's condition; if he's alive then Cure Light Wounds.

"We ought to wait," Aarnr suggests reasonably, "just to be sure the old bat-scra ... Sir Galdean is most definitely ... oh, FROG it !"

With Eilieen seemingly out to emulate the last heroic stand of the Justicar, the priest finds himself in the happy position of not having to ask for permission to embark upon what hindsight has hitherto generally denigrated as yet another foolish risk ... though he'll be damned to one of the quieter and contemplative planes of existence if he's not foremost or thereabouts in the slaughter to come.

The priestess of  Zadastha is certainly quick off the mark, but Aarnr has longer legs and a true berserker heritage working in his favour.  Bursting from the treeline, leaf litter flies as the red mist of Bowbe's favour settles over him, a roar like the cry of a Wyvort on heat bursting from his lips as he pounds over the ground, sword raised high above his head to fall upon the foe !

Initiative 19. :P
Intent: Hurt ! Maim ! Kill !

Though outwardly he appeared to be stoically calm, inside Arkan was a turmoil of emotions as soon as Sir Galdean charged. He had a moment of elation as Galdean, showing remarkable skill for one of his age and disability, dodged his giant foe's wild swing and countered with a skillful slash. But then his heart fell as the giant's overhead counter-stroke smashed into the aged Justicar.

Arkan had already been formulating a cunning battle-plan once the others had taken up positions that involved all of them, including especially Bilfro who had taken up a most canny position above the mine entrance, to quickly confound and take out the giant. But it all fell to the wayside as Eileen charged out immediately to the striken Justicar's side.

"Wait, Eileen!" He tried to catch her with a hand as she flew past but missed by a wide margin. Luckily Aarnr overtook her in his haste for the glory, which meant hopefully he would keep the creature busy for the moment. Focusing his mind Arkan quickly incanted the spidery words to an ancient battle-spell that had served the sons of old Raumathar well during times of trouble.

ᛋᚻᛁᛖᛚᛞ

The air around him shimmered slightly, and gripping Crescent Fall he stalked forward towards Eileen and Sir Galdean's body, eyes never leaving their foe.

Near the base of the tree - he wasn't about to climb up there and sit like a ripe apple - Ozzy hurls one of his javelins at the giant that just ended the old warriors life. Practice has improved his technique and the steel rod flies in a deadly arc toward the giant target.

14:28, Mon 25 May 2015: Oswald Osbourne rolled 26 using 1d20+7 ((19)). Initiative.
14:30, Mon 25 May 2015: Oswald Osbourne rolled 20 using 1d20+5 ((15)). Javelin Toss.
14:31, Mon 25 May 2015: Oswald Osbourne rolled 17 using 1d20+5 ((12)). Critical?
14:32, Mon 25 May 2015: Oswald Osbourne rolled 4 using 1d4 ((4)). Damage x2?

As soon as he sees the aged knight fall, Fergus rushes forward.  His axe swings horizontally, as if he were cutting down a tree.  A savage blow aimed at the giant's shins.

Belatedly he wonders if he should, perhaps, have used Valkyria.  Then, with a wild yell, he discards that line of reasoning.  The sword isn't heavy enough for his liking.  His axe is much more comfortable in his grip.

Colwyn already has an arrow ready, and puts it in flight, the moment he sees Galdean struck down.

It's a fast shot, but there is little of haste to it, as it hurtles directly towards his target.

Belatedly he wonders how tough a giant's skin might be, and whether a mere arrow would even penetrate it.  "Too bleedin' late ter be worryin' 'bout that now!" he growls, as he reaches for another projectile...

Erista, for one, has no intention of just sitting and watching while Sir Galdean gets pulverized.  She plans absolutely to send a few rocks into the fray well before he's done.  But there's the Ringing of the Ears, and then the Shock at How Fast That Happened, and... er, of course, she was respecting his wishes.  That's all.

Seeing Fergus and Eilieen charging in breaks her paralysis, and she drops a rock into her sling and sets it spinning.  Not even watching to see if it hits, she reaches for another.

Having regained his composure, merely quivering uncontrollably again, Bilfro scrambles up higher before let fly a quarrel from his, under the circustances, somewhat inadequatelly sized crossbow.

Perhaps aiming first would have been a good idea, he realises afterwards.

The giant peers at the fallen Justicar and smiles a particularly hideous smile, like a small boy who has just discovered that pulling the wings off flies is surprisingly entertaining.  Then the roar of a wild beast from the forest distracts it, and it turns towards the sound.  The wild beast is, in fact, Aarnr, charging towards the huge target.

The roar is joined a moment later, as Eilieen adds a scream of rage to create a sort of cacophonous harmony of fury, and follows Aarnr forward.

Staying at a (hopefully) safe distance, Ozzy hurls a javelin with unerring accuracy, and watches as it bites into the giant's filthy skin.  The giant's response is an angry grunt... and a moment later an arrow from Colwyn produces a similar effect.

Fergus and Aarnr reach their gargantuan opponent at the same moment, though with different results.  While Fergus' axe bites deep into the giant's leg and brings a howl of pain, Aarnr's blade is deflected by the thick layer of hides and fur which serve the thing as clothing.

Sliding to a halt just behind the pair of fierce warriors (and reducing her skirts to a tattered, blood-stained, muddied ruin in the process), Eilieen starts to examine Sir Galdean, while beginning to mutter a prayer for divine aid.  The words falter in her throat as she realises that the man's entire rib cage has been crushed, and his neck has been snapped.

The Justicar has, it seems, found the death he was looking for, and earned himself a place at the side of his goddess...

Meanwhile Erista recovers quickly from the giant's sudden, very loud appearance.  Unfortunately her recovery is not complete, and her sling sends its bullet flying wide of the target, to ricochet off the cliff face behind the gargantuan creature.

Speaking of which... the giant quickly recovers from the pain inflicted by its wounds, and the massive club rises, then drops diagonally, to bowl Fergus over on the muddy earth.

Arkan arrives close to Eilieen, almost slipping on the slick ground, with the words of a spell on his lips and a shimmering disc of force unfolding in the air before him. 

From his adjusted perch on the cliff, Bilfro sends a quarrel in the general direction of the giant.  It should be noted that the term, "general direction" is a relative term, and nicely unspecific.  The crossbow bolt misses, and skitters of a boulder on the ground.

Fergus starts to clamber to his feet again, and the huge club hammers down on his back, knocking the wind out of him, and leaving him motionless in a spreading pool of blood...

OOC:Oooh... messy.

Combatant                Init
Oswald Osbourne           26
Colwyn Akbar              22
Fergus Andarson           19
Aarnr Foultongue          19
Eilieen                   16
Erista                    15
Giant                     13   AC=20
Arkan                     10
Bilfro Gabbins            10

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Good
Arkan:            Good
Bilfro Gabbins:   Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Fergus Andarson:  Dying?
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

Lost in the howling mists of his battle-rage, Aarnr is unaware of the dire predicament that Fergus is in, his world reduced to the sword in his hands and the giant of an Ogre that stands before him.

Screaming his defiance at the creature and his god alike, the priest swings his heavy blade once more ...

Arkan winced inwards as he saw Sir Galdean's corpse, but he also felt a surge of elation. The man had died quickly and without pain, at the hands of a mighty foe. It was all the old Justicar could have hope for.

Arkan did shudder a bit when Fergus got pummeled not once but twice. Before Eileen could charge ahead into danger to the ex farmer's aid, Arkan quickly leaned down and said, "Wait! Let us try to weaken the creature before rushing in. "

So saying he quickly dabbed a finger inside a pouch at his belt, then held out his left hand palm facing outwards at the giant, with two fingers bent inwards.

ᚷᚱᛖᚪᛋᛖ

Grabbing another javelin from his pack, Ozzy tosses the steel rod, failing to account for the cross breeze which blows it off course into the cliff wall.

14:43, Thu 28 May 2015: Oswald Osbourne rolled 15 using 1d20+5 ((10)). Javelin toss.

Erista, indeed, follows up her first rock with a second, and this one most definitely glances lightly off the giant's shoulder!

Colwyn winces as he sees Fergus slammed to the ground, then sends a second arrow towards the giant.  Again it flies true, but the giant moves at the last instant, and the tip barely scratches the thing's tough hide.

"Oh, this ain't bein' good." he grumbles,  "Stupid bloody knight should've been runnin' fer it, soon as 'e seed what 'e were bein' up 'gainst."

Summoning the vast power of his magnificent mind, Bilfro conjures, figuratively, a plan so cunning it is like a splice of a fox and a weasel that graduate with honours as a professor in cunning from Cunningham University.

Or at least as not as dumb as a dead chicken.

"Korkmayın, ben bir hayalet, boo duyuyorum!"

The call echoes, at least in his head, and then it begins.  A sound of angry wasps, really angry and really big.  So big and angry they are like really, uh, angry and, uh, big.  Although naught can be seen, they seem to be fascinated by the back of the giant's head, possibly contemplating making a nest out of its skull.

Bzz.  Bzz, I say.  Er, no, bzz, says the wasps.  Yeah, that's it.  Bzz!

(NPCd)

Sir Galdean is dead, there is nothing more Eilieen can do for the man at this time.  But now Fergus has fallen nearby, laying prone in a pool of blood.  The priestess of Zadastha checks on the location of the monster - currently it is being distracted by her companions - then scrambles low across the ground in an effort to avoid being noticed.

Fergus needs her help.

She reaches him safely, and begins to examine his wounds while, once again, starting a prayer to the Goddess...  Absently she notices the blood soaking into her white robe.

The giant looks about, its ponderous mind trying to make sense of the sudden activity all around it.  Then, with an earth-shaking roar, it spots something that it believes should be hit...

From his vantage point, Ozzy hurls a second javelin, though with less success than the first.  The steel tip strikes sparks from the cliff face.

Colwyn fires another arrow as he notices Eilieen start edging towards Fergus and murmurs, "Luck be with yer, girl."  The arrow hits the massive foe, but does little for than scratch the creature.

Out on the battlefield, Aarnr screams a challenge, and does a very good job of distracting the giant from Eilieen, though he is far too caught up in his berserk rage for that to be a consideration.  His heavy blade swings at the giants legs, only to have the monster block it with its club.  The giant bellows its rage back at the man who dares to challenge it.

But at least its limited attention has been drawn away from Eilieen.  The priestess scrambles across the bloodied ground and feverishly starts the job of tending to the fallen Fergus... 

Above the kneeling priestess, and a little way behind her, the giant's bellow of rage turns into a howl of pain as a sling stone slaps it on the ear.  The huge monster shakes its head, before returning its gaze to Aarnr...

The club lashes out, smashing into Aarnr's shoulder and knocking him off balance (and a couple of paces to one side).  Fortunately the pain in the giant's ear makes it hesitate for a moment before following up with a second blow.  Just long enough for Arkan and Bilfro to shout words of magic at it.  As the club swings back towards the dazed Aarnr, the weapon suddenly flies from its owner's grasp to clatter against the rocky face of the cliff.

The giant hardly seems to notice the loss of its club, it is too busy ducking, protecting its head with one huge hand, while swatting at the air about it with the other...

OOC: Very messy.

Combatant                Init
Oswald Osbourne           26
Colwyn Akbar              22
Fergus Andarson           19
Aarnr Foultongue          19
Eilieen                   16
Erista                    15
Giant                     13   AC=20
Arkan                     10
Bilfro Gabbins            10

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Hurt
Arkan:            Good
Bilfro Gabbins:   Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Fergus Andarson:  Dead?
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

Aarnr staggers back, his ferocious assault momentarily frustrated by the blow ... only to totter forth once more, on legs still shaking and barely able to hold his weapon, though he swings it ne'ertheless, at least with certain intent.

Arkan charged at the now unarmed giant, Crescent Fall gripped in both hands. As he got near the creature Arkan slashed with the heavy blade, aiming at one of the giant's legs. He was put off by the staggering creature though, and his blow missed the mark, bouncing off the thick bone of the giant's knee rather than it's fleshy thigh and calf.

Charging: 16 on attack :(

Determined not to watch her friends die, Erista throws another stone towards the giant.  Evidently without watching.

This time, accounting for the cross wind, Ozzy throws the javelin accurately.
Unfortunately, the weapons small size is akin to poking oneself with a sewing needle by comparison.

16:05, Mon 01 June 2015: Oswald Osbourne rolled 24 using 1d20+5 ((19)). Javelin toss.
16:06, Mon 01 June 2015: Oswald Osbourne rolled 1 using 1d4 ((1)).

"Fergus!" Eilieen screams, turning her eyes towards the heavens.  "Zadastha, protect him on his journey!" she calls out, weeping.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:26, Tue 02 June 2015.

Colwyn readies another arrow, aims, and launches it at the giant.  He crows with delight as the shaft flies true and sinks into the monster's flesh.  His joy is soon muted, though, as he realises that he might just be attracting attention to himself.

And then he hears Eilieen's scream, and sees her hunched over the unmoving Fergus...

Seeing that the others need him to come to the rescue as is common, he does so by shooting the big brute (no, not Aarnr, although....) expertly, since he is.  An expert.  Bilfro is.  That is, Bilfro is an expert.  Hooyah.  BAMF: Bilfro the Amazing Master of Fighting.

The battle continues to rage... though the giant seems more intent on battling some invisible enemy, its huge hands still flailing at the air around its head.

Ozzy throws another javelin, and watches as it inflicts a scratch that barely marks the giant's thick, filthy skin.  The monster doesn't even notice, seemingly distracted by something attacking its head.

But Colwyn has better luck, sending an arrow deep into the brute's side, and actually bringing a howl of pain from the thing.

Enraged by his lack of both success and death, Aarnr slashes at the giant again.  At the last instant his blade turns in his hands, and he strikes the monster with the flat of the weapon.

Eilieen, meanwhile, kneels next to the fallen Fergus, shocked by the death of the big farmer, but unable to do anything about it...

A sling stone from Erista flies past, missing the monster and, fortunately, everybody else on the field of battle.  The giant ignores the near miss, still engaged in waving its hands about, weaponless, and performing some kind of erratic dance.

The random dance, like the stagger of a drunk, causes Arkan to miss his attack too, and he has to dodge aside as one large foot comes unnervingly close, although it does so mostly by accident.

Still ensconced upon the side of the cliff, and with his feet braced upon an almost imperceptible ledge, Bilfro launches a bolt from his trusty crossbow.  Naturally it strikes the target in a location which will, upon later inspection, doubtless prove to have been absolutely lethal (though not instantly so).

Slowly, and hesitantly, the monster stops its dance and lowers its arms.  It blinks once, twice, and a third time, its face a mask of confusion.  It studies its empty hands for a moment, then lets out a bellow of rage as it looks around for its club...

And, as if in reply to that roar, the sky is suddenly split by a crash of thunder, and rain starts to fall...

OOC: It gets worse.  Now it's raining.

Combatant                Init
Oswald Osbourne           26
Colwyn Akbar              22
Fergus Andarson           19
Aarnr Foultongue          19
Eilieen                   16
Erista                    15
Giant                     13   AC=20
Arkan                     10
Bilfro Gabbins            10

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Hurt
Arkan:            Good
Bilfro Gabbins:   Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Fergus Andarson:  Shuffled off this mortal coil.
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

Oblivious to either Fergus's death or Eilieen's grief, Aarnr battles on, though it is extremely unlikely as yet that the giant has noticed ...

Now that their gargantuan opponent has rebuffed that unseen enemy, it seems that mysterious personage has turned its attention to Aarnr, as the priest, lost in a rage that is as incoherent and incomprehensible as it is terrifyingly brutal, swings his great sword with a vim and a vigour and a violence that must surely be giving that invisible foe pause ... and Bowbe a good laugh.

Now understanding that Fergus would NOT be getting up again, Ozzy pulls a dagger from his belt and begins singing, trying to express the grief all felt through song, in hopes that the words would transform their disheartened spirits back toward the task at hand, namely, avenging the farm boy.

♪ ♫ " The end of June came
And took you away
We were all crying
Felt like I was dying..." ♪ ♫

Using the northern tribal reference for the Firemonth, he keeps the beat even as he hurls the dagger the grip slipping from his hand to do an awkward tumble into the pouring rain...

♪ ♫ " Black dress & black shoes
 Tied laces for you
 The saddest of days
 Why couldn’t we save you? ♪ ♫"

Singing to bolster courage. +1 Attacks and Damage (if we can hit the barn).

04:54, Sat 06 June 2015: Oswald Osbourne rolled 14 using 1d20+6 ((8)). Throw Dagger... missed.

Fortunately for Erista, her tree largely deflects the rain, letting her set sail another rock in comparative warmth and comfort.  Her stone, alas, fares not so well, getting caught in an updraft and cracking the stone near Bilfro's feet.

The sudden crash of thunder and the wet downpour was startling, throwing Arkan's focus off balance. Still, trying to stay away from the giant's reach he darted in and slashed again with Crescent Fall, the blade cutting through the raindrops in a perfect pattern, that yet failed to connect with his foe.

"Someone, try and move the club away from it's reach!" He called out in desperation.

Colwyn's hands shake... Fergus is dead.  His friend is dead.  The rogue manages to fit another arrow to the bow, and raises the weapon.  And in a moment of clarity he realises that it is his duty to avenge Fergus.

The tremor leaves his hands as he draws a deep breath, then releases it in a brief prayer for his friend, "Bless ye, Fergus.  I 'opes as Freya keeps yer safe.", even as the arrow is also released

The words of the prayer, and the air that carries them, seem to bear the shaft towards the target...

Eilieen stands, the rain slicking her hair down around her face, washing away her tears as swiftly as they spill.  She doesn't notice.  For an instant, her fingers tighten around the haft of her spear.  But.

That's not her path.

Hurling herself into a run, she sprints to where Aarnr battles against his gigantic opponent.  Ducking an errant swing of his sword, she lays a hand upon his back, a hand that flickers then burns with a pale rosy light.

"Zadastha, save us from evil's fury!"

OOC - Cure moderate wounds on Aarnr.  Edit: 11 hp.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:05, Mon 08 June 2015.

Flinching as a humongous rock almost embeds itself in his forehead, Bilfro decides to toss another tiny stick in the general direction of the unfairly oversized would-be Ogre, forgetting what he was thinking of doing instead.

The giant casts about, searching for its club, but without much success due to all the distractions around it.

Ozzy starts to sing, his words spilling out to fill the hearts of his companions with courage.  At the same moment he hurls his dagger, but between the rain and the effort of concentrating on the song the diminutive blade goes wide of the target.

Nearby, Colwyn has more luck, and an arrow launched from his bow hits the giant in the gut.

Aarnr swings his huge blade, howling like a wild beast, and misses the giant!  And at that precise instant another enemy comes up behind him and attacks.  He carries through with the failed blow to punish his new foe, and narrowly avoids beheading Eilieen! Even as the warmth of her healing touch spreads through his body, a thin trickle of blood oozes from a new cut on her cheek. 

Erista sends another sling stone arcing towards the giant, but succeeds only in startling Bilfro, who is busy reloading his crossbow and almost falls of his ledge as the stone clatters against the cliff.

The giant, still bereft of its favoured weapon, settles for lifting one huge foot and attempting to stomp on Aarnr.  The priest evades the blow, and the monster stumbles on the blood-soaked ground, crashing to the earth on all fours.

Arkan shouts a warning about the club.  Unfortunately there is nobody close to the giant's weapon (and at ground level) to drag it away, and very few party members strong enough to move the heavy piece of tree very far...  So, for the moment, it comes down to hoping its owner doesn't notice it.  In the meantime, Arkan attempts to strike the fallen giant, only to have the thing swat the blow aside with an enormous hand.

Still shaken by the near-death experience with Erista's sling stone, Bilfro raises his crossbow with trembling hands and sends the quarrel flying towards the giant.  It's probably just coincidence that the deadly projectile embeds itself in a tree a mere fifteen feet from the halfling sorceress (albeit some six or seven feet above her head).

OOC: What a comedy of errors this battle is becoming.  :)  Everybody will, of course, get +1 on attacks and damage while Ozzy wastes his breath sings.

Combatant                Init
Oswald Osbourne           26
Colwyn Akbar              22
Fergus Andarson           19
Aarnr Foultongue          19
Eilieen                   16
Erista                    15
Giant                     13   AC=20
Arkan                     10
Bilfro Gabbins            10

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Good
Arkan:            Good
Bilfro Gabbins:   Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Fergus Andarson:  He is an ex-farmer.
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

Confused by the warm glow that comes from Eilieen's healing touch, Aarnr lashes out with his blade, but luckily both for the priestess and himself, he fails to chop her into small pieces.

Before he can attack Eilieen again, there is a resounding crash from behind him as the giant stamps down, and another resounding crash as the creature falls to the ground.  Whirling around, Aarnr bellows something incomprehensible but assuredly very rude at the giant's kneecap, then swings his sword in a short but vicious arc ...

Eilieen's fingers jerk back from Bowbe's raging priest, rising to touch her cheek.  Pain.  For an instant her eyes are wide, disbelieving, and Aarnr looks ready to close them forever.  Then the giant garners his attention again, and the furious cleric turns back to his assault upon their enemy.

She steps to the side.  Part of her mind shrieks a shrill cry of alarm and loss: loss of Fergus, loss of trust.  The rest focuses on the job at hand.  This monster, this thing needs to be removed, and it's the right of all prey to fight back.

"Zadastha," she whispers, golden light burning around her free hand.  "Do not let your servant battle alone."

OOC - Summon Monster II, Celestial Riding Dog, 4 round duration.

Arkan staggered back as the giant came down on all fours, swatting aside his sword blow as it did so.

His hood protected his eyes from the rain so Arkan clearly saw Eileen and Aarnr working in tandem. He moved to the side in order to flank their opponent with Aarnr, Oswald's music bolstering him as he did so.

Trying to time his strike with his bellowing companion Arkan slashed with Crescent Fall, aiming for the giant's meaty arm.

Colwyn's mind oscillates between overwhelming joy at the thought that he has repeatedly wounded the monster, and overwhelming terror at the thought that the creature might realise where the pain is coming from.

He readies his bow and shoots once more, trying to ignore the rain and the increasingly fierce storm.

But terror wins, and carefully launches the arrow in a direction that will not attract the giant's attention.

"Nadgers!"

Ozzy abandons ranged weapons and song, deciding it time to help his big brother. Drawing his short sword, he tries to stay low and quiet as he attempts to get behind the rumbling thunder of the towering giant. He wasn't entirely sure what he could reach if and when he drew close enough, but he couldn't let Aarnr die alone out there. Perhaps once this was over they would all meet again in the afterlife.

Trying to get behind the giant for a flank attack.
14:38, Fri 12 June 2015: Oswald Osbourne rolled 7 using 1d20+6 ((1)). Move Silently.
14:38, Fri 12 June 2015: Oswald Osbourne rolled 26 using 1d20+8 ((18)). Hide.

Since he is utterly awesome, Bilfro manages to not completely panic and fall to his death on the ledge upon which he currently resides, but instead wiggles his fingers in the approximate way the exaggeratedly sized critter was, as if giving it a coy little wave.

Rest assure he was doing no such thing, as he suffer no hope of garnering attention from said brute, indeed, quite the opposite, one could venture.

(NPCd)

Erista loads up her sling again, whirls it about her head, and sends another stone hurtling towards the giant.  It's he favourite stone, her lucky one.  The one that she has lovingly scratched a smiling face on...

The simple trick seems to have worked, as the stone flies true and strikes hard!

Ozzy moves from his place of concealment, taking a wide detour around the giant as it clambers back to its feet, he moves as quietly as possible from one piece of cover to the next.  And at one point he stands on a dry twig, which cracks underfoot, and the giant starts to turn in his direction, but the halfling is, luckily, within diving range of some bushes which provide him with some concealment.

Another arrow leaves Colwyn's bow, but this time it misses its target, and snaps as it strikes a boulder.

And Aarnr isn't having much more luck.  Even the old standby of gibbering and bellowing incoherent insults doesn't seem to be helping much.  At least this time he misses Eilieen as his feet slide on the slick ground and dump him on his rear end.

Eilieen, her dress spotted with her own blood now, calls out a prayer to Zadastha... a prayer which is answered by joyous barking from the nearby trees, and a blur of gold as a large dog springs out into the clearing and makes for the monstrous enemy, its tail whirling like a windmill, as if fighting giants were its favourite thing.  A flash of white ensues, and a spurt of red, as gleaming teeth sink into the giant's leg!

A smile-carved lucky sling stone sails through the air and hits the giant in the face, hard enough to spill more blood, and a couple of teeth (though they're not quite as gleaming and clean as the hound's).

The giant roars in pain, then its eyes seem to light up as it spots its lost club.  It manages to kick the dog away from its leg, and starts towards its own weapon as the animal lands a short distance away, yelping.  The dog starts to get to its feet.

Trying to coordinate his own attack with Aarnr's, Arkan finds the effort to be fruitless as his companion falls, and their huge foe turns aside, avoiding the  outlander's blade.

And then something strange happens.  The giant falters in its stride, and it shakes its head and starts to look about as Sir Galdean's voice, or a reasonable facsimile, calls out a loud challenge, audible even over the sound of the worsening storm!

Even though the knight's mangled body still lays on the ground nearby...

OOC: Ozzy has stopped singing, judging by his efforts at stealth, but everybody (including Gaspode the Wonder Dog/Rin-Tin-Tin/Lassie/Snowy/Fido) still gets +1 on attacks and damage for four more rounds.

Good news - nobody got hurt this round, except for giants and magically summoned dogs.  Oh, and Aarnr's rump, of course.

Combatant                Init
Oswald Osbourne           26
Colwyn Akbar              22
Fergus Andarson           19
Aarnr Foultongue          19
Eilieen                   16
Erista                    15
Giant                     13   AC=20
Arkan                     10
Bilfro Gabbins            10

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Good
Arkan:            Good
Bilfro Gabbins:   Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Fergus Andarson:  He is no more.
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

While the booming voice of the dead Justicar doesn't register at all, in the grip of the red mists of battle Aarnr's instincts are screaming at him that this particular foe is somehow and quite unfairly proof against his sword.  It's taken a while, admittedly, for that to sink in, but as a bonus the added frustration has taken the priest waaaay beyond boiling point and into a whole new realm of white hot anger and stupidity, luckily directed entirely at the offending big ogre (though I wouldn't venture too close).

Tossing his sword aside, Aarnr yells something suitably foul, luckily in his incomprehensible native tongue, leaping up after the giant and throwing himself upon him, trying to drag the giant back down to his level that he might punch and kick and bite and ...

Having found her groove, Erista whips another rock towards the giant, this time clipping it solidly as it stands in confusion.

Arkan wasn't sure what he heard was the sound of Sir Galdean's voice crying out a challenge from beyond, or just the sound of thunder playing tricks on their ears. He did not have time to consider it further as he saw Aarnr toss aside his weapon and attack the giant with hand, foot and teeth!

Emboldened by his companions ferocity Arkan sprang forward and brought down his large battle blade in a powerful overhead slash. A grim smile crossed his features as he felt the familiar shock run up his arm of the full-blade meeting flesh and saw the giant's blood spurting onto the wet ground.

"Death comes for you creature!" Arkan shouted fiercely.


This message was last edited by the player at 17:36, Mon 15 June 2015.

"Good dog," Eilieen whispers before turning back to the fray.

There's naught to be done for healing at the moment; better she provide yet another sharp object to hopefully find the giant's vitals.  It's not likely, Eilieen admits privately, but with Oswald's song still ringing in her ears, she makes the attempt.  With Aarnr holding it, perhaps she has a chance....

The priestess lunges, but her spearpoint fails to pierce the monstrous creature's hide.

Attack:  15.  Not quite.  :(

Colwyn launches another arrow at their gargantuan foe, only to curse under his breath again as the arrow flies far wide of the mark.  And the next mark too.

Then he sees Aarnr cast his sword aside and try to grab the giant.  All thoughts of another shot are temporarily driven from his mind as he wonders what the man is trying to do.

"What the bloody 'ells is 'e tryin' ter do?"

Once behind the giant, Ozzy stabs at the brute with his short sword, finding the hide a little more dense than expected.

15:01, Wed 17 June 2015: Oswald Osbourne rolled 8 using 1d20+4 ((4)). Sneak Attack.

The halfling giant Bilfro climbed down the cliff so rough.

Out came the oil

and flint and steel and stuff.

Pour on the club

and try to light the oil

and the halfling giant Bilfro may save the day again.

Still buoyed by their memory of the encouraging words of Ozzy's song, the group of bold heroes continue to battle the enormous giant...

The halfling bard completes his move, positioning himself behind his much larger opponent.  Steel flashes in the rain filled air, but fails to pierce the monster's thick, hairy skin.  Nonetheless, it does attract its attention...

Colwyn shoots an arrow, but loses track of it in the rain.  Which is to say that he has no idea where it ends up, beyond a very vague "not in the giant."

Aarnr drops his sword, disappointed in its treachery, and with a roar he leaps, swarms up the giant by dint of gripping the vermin infested furs that it wears, and locks his arms around its neck.  Then he starts to squeeze, ignoring the monstrous creature's attempts to dislodge him.  Wrapping his legs around its torso, he uses them to provide better leverage...

With words of encouragement for her summoned ally, Eilieen attacks their enemy.  Like Ozzy she finds the giant's hide, wrapped in ragged skins, too tough for her weapon to penetrate.

The golden dog, though, finds no such difficulty... with a snarl it seizes the brute by one calf, and starts to worry at the flesh and the sinews which connect it to the thick bones.  Blood flows down the giant's leg, and adds to the slickness of the ground.

Another stone, propelled by Erista's sling, hits the monster in the forehead, and blood streams down its face, coating Aarnr's brawny arms.  The giant sways, dazed by the impact and the strangulation, and unable to easily move its feet to maintain its balance due to the large dog firmly attached to one leg.

At the cliff, Bilfro climbs down easily, in spite of the rain-slicked stone, pours out a pint of oil which he then ignites, leaping backwards to avoid the fire which engulfs the huge club!

And the giant bellows in pain as Arkan's heavy sword cuts at the leg that isn't wearing a dog, sinking deep into the flesh, severing veins, and hamstringing the creature.

There is a brief pause, and then Arkan, Ozzy, Eilieen and hound alike all decide that discretion is the better part of being flattened, as the tottering giant suddenly topples with a loud crash.  It lays face down in the dirt and the blood, next to the bodies of Fergus and Sir Galdean.  Unlike those two though, the monster still groans, which just encourages Aarnr to tighten his grip around its neck...

OOC: coup de grâce* anybody?  On the giant, not Aarnr.

*French for mowing the lawn.

Combatant                Init
Oswald Osbourne           26
Colwyn Akbar              22
Fergus Andarson           19
Aarnr Foultongue          19
Eilieen                   16
Erista                    15
Giant                     13   AC=20
Arkan                     10
Bilfro Gabbins            10

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Good
Arkan:            Good
Bilfro Gabbins:   Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Fergus Andarson:  'E's a stiff!  Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace!
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

This message was last edited by the GM at 10:49, Sat 20 June 2015.

Aarnr's world is the giant, and so focussed is he on crushing the life from the huge creature that he notices not at all when the bit of the universe that is outside his comprehension goes from vertical to horizontal.

Roaring loudly in an attempt to outdo the bellowing giant, he fights against the slick blood that oozes from the foe, threatening to rob him of his grip any second ...

Skipping away in a triumphant dance, rather than fleeing in fear of having the robes catch on fire, Bilfro quickly reload his crossed little bow and bounces over to the giant.

There he points it at the giant's head and, after squinting most likely to aim rather than not see too much, let fly the quarrel, to end the suffering of the fallen foe.  It can not be nice having Aarnr hugging you, no indeed it can not.

Seeing the giant drop down to his level under the weight of has brother, Ozzy rushes in for another stab at the giant head. " You leave my brother alone!" he protests as he drives his blade into its brain.

With the giant defeated, there is time to take stock...

Sir Galdean is dead, just as he wished.  But so is Fergus.  Aarnr had come close to suffering a similar fate, and would have done so, were it not for Eilieen's healing prayer (and the extreme risk she had taken by approaching a man blinded by the battle rage).

Galdean is, doubtless, already on his way to stand beside Muir, and his possessions must be, as agreed, returned to his order.  No arrangement has been made for the disposition of Fergus' possessions.  A fact that Colwyn raises as he stands over the farmer's body...

"What's ter be done with the sword?  The one what the priestess were givin' 'im.  Seems as 'ow it'd be bein' a waste ter stick it in a grave, what with 'er sayin' as 'ow it should be used ter fight evil, an' not stored away somewhere."

Some time after their foe's demise, Aarnr at last comes to his senses and when he is eventually convinced that the giant is dead, stops punching and biting, releasing his grip to collapse in exhaustion on the grass.

The priest nods at Sir Galdean's body, pleased that the Justicar met the violent end he hoped for, but his brow furrows as he sees Eilieen bloodied ... and tired or no, struggles to his feet when he realises that Fergus is unmoving.

"He died making life safer for the putt ... people of this land," he states grimly, standing over his friend helplessly.  While he might not sympathise with such a lofty goal, he honours Fergus's simple beliefs.

Aarnr has no use for such terms as good and evil, delighting in slaying monsters as proof of his own prowess - and to make Bowbe pay attention, of course - and is not at all minded to bear his fallen friend's blade because of what it represents.  Though Colwyn's question does prompt him to recover his great sword, which while obviously not of much use against giants, has proved itself against many other foes.

"Thou are hurt," he turns to Eilieen not realising that her cuts, though minor, came at his own hand, his tone applauding her courage in facing the giant.

Erista climbs carefully down out of her tree, beaming brightly at their victory.  Before she says anything, though, Colwyn's question stops her short.  "It's supposed to go to his temple, like ev---"  She turns as she answers, wondering what the point of Colwyn's question is, and her smile fades as she realizes it's not Sir Galdean to whom he refers.

"What?  But he... Fergus?"  Running to the body, she drops to one knee, holding his head in her hands.  "Fergus?  Fergus, you... you have to.. Eilieen?"  Tears shining in her eyes, she looks up at the priestess, though it's clear in her face that she already knows the answer.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:32, Mon 22 June 2015.

Arkan cleaned the blood off Crescent Fall then sheathed the large blade on his back.

He could only shake his head at the unexpected demise of Fergus, whom Arkan had started taking a liking too, admiring the lad's practical manners and down to earth way of speaking.

Folding his hands in front of his chest he waited patiently as the others, who knew Fergus far better, grieved. His ears perked up at the mention of the sword, but he shook his head after looking at the blade.

"A bit too small for my liking Colwyn."

Eilieen merely stands, watching in empty-eyed shock as the group falls upon the giant like a pack of dogs.  With a flick of her hand she dismisses her own beast, whispering a dull-voiced thanks to Zadastha.  Her lips work for a moment as Aarnr stands, and she takes a quick step back from the bloodied priest of Bowbe.  "I am well enough," the priestess declares, before shuffling to stand next to the forlorn Erista.

"I was too slow," she whispers.  "Perhaps...I could not have been swift enough."  Slowly she drops to her knees beside her friends - the living and the dead - and puts an arm around Erista's slight shoulders.  Reaching out, she smoothes death's rictus from Fergus' visage, carefully closing his eyes even as her own well up with tears to match Erista's.

The priestess shakes her head.  "I am so sorry."  Even she isn't certain if she speaks to Erista or to their fallen friend.

The lamentation of women is generally to be encouraged in the surviving relatives of one's foes ... by which standard Aarnr realises that the group have lost this day, finding not triumph, but only the ashes of defeat.  Although the Justicar met the end he desired and the giant is slain, neither are worth the loss of his friend.

"Fighting monsters is perilous," the priest offers in comfort.  "No victory is ever assured and death is often the only reward.  Fergus knew this, yet still chose to fight these monsters, not willing to leave it to lesser men to pay the blood-price on his behalf."

"We are on a path that will take us to Rappan Athuk, a place of many monsters.  Death is likely.  But whether we fight for riches or for glory or for our friends, or even the putt ... the peoples of these lands who know not what terrors lurk in shadow, even if death claims us in the striving, that striving honours the gods."

"Come ... we must return our dead to the town of shopkeeps that they may be properly honoured by the living too."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:34, Sat 27 June 2015.

Colwyn shakes his head at Eilieen's protest that she was too slow.  "I's not reckonin' as 'ow that's bein' so.  I's not bein' no expert on 'ealin', but it were lookin' ter me as 'ow 'e were dead in a instant.  So no matter 'ow fast yer was, or what yer were doin', yer couldn't've been savin 'im."

"Like as not would've both been endin' up dead."

"It...."

"It speaks to me..."

"The blade, I can...."

"...feel it..."

Bilfro ambles over to where the now slightly smaller, after a fasion, ex-farmer lays in his impromptu dirt-nap, sword still in the belt.

"Alas, poor Fergus!  I didn't know him well, who did do," he laments, "a fellow of infinite chest, of most excellent prancy:  he hath eaten a sack [of food] a thousand times; and now, how abjured in my interpretation it is!"

"My forge rhymes with it.  Here hung those hips that some have missed I know not [how many] hay loft[s].  Where be your vibes now?  Your gambles?  Your thongs?  Your flashes of confusiment, that were wont to set the party on a boar?"

"Not one know, to sock your own grinding?  Quite flap-ballen?  Now get you to my local butcher, and tell him, let there be pork a mile thick, to this favour he must come; make him balk at that."

He reaches out, hand trembling, and slowly, as if overcome with reverence, plucks the sword from what used to be Fergus.

"Mine!" he croaks like a seagull having found a taste snack, and hugs it close, almost naming it George.  But, nay, lo and behold, he lifts it upon high and, in a provocative he-manlyish pose, calls out;  "By the power of numbskull, I have ... uh...  it."

Almost, Eilieen snaps back at Aarnr.  Almost; but his qualification seals her lips shut.

"Fergus knew this, yet still chose to fight these monsters, not willing to leave it to lesser men to pay the blood-price on his behalf."

Fergus did know.  And made this choice, like all of them.  And, like Aarnr says, despite her resolve it seems likely Rappan Athuk will consume many of her friends, if not all.  "Gods," she whispers, fearful of that loss.  And now, as Aarnr states, they must take him to the town.  Bear him up.  "Him and Sir Galdean, both."

Bring them to proper rest.

"Thank you, Colwyn," the priestess whispers, reaching out blindly to pat the thief on the arm.  He's correct, she feels...but the guilt remains, for reason has little hold over emotion.  She should ask Oswald if there will be a song.  She should; just not right now.

"We should bring the giant's head," Aarnr suggests.  "That those shopkeeps might also face the terrors that Sir Galdean and Fergus both have saved them from and so better appreciated their sacrifice."

The priest too is affected by the loss of his friend, but his grief manifests in a far different fashion.  Woe betide any bandit who dares them on the journey back !

Colwyn looks at Bilfro quizzically, and cocks his head to one side.  "It's not bein' any use ter me, I's reckonin'.  The blade were bein' forged in the name of a god, an' I don't see as she'd be pleased fer my kind ter be wavin' it 'roun'.  I's reckonin' as 'ow yer more the sort ter be carryin' a pig-sticker what's been blessed by a god."

After all, the gods do protect madmen, and Bilfro certainly fits the description, else the orcs in the wizard's crumbling fortress would have killed him outright.

Then a thought distracts the rogue, "'ere... if'n this 'ere giant's been causin' trouble in these parts, I's wonderin' if the bugger were 'avin' stoled anythin' an' 'id it in there."  He waves a hand in the general direction of the mine entrance.

While Aarnr happily stood in the middle of a river wrestling rocks to reveal treasure, this time he is unable to summon the enthusiasm.  "The Justicar made mention of such," he seems to recall.  "Thou should be safe with Ozzie and Bilfro warding thee if more of the giant's kin cower within the mine."

"Eilieen and I ... we shall do what must be done for our dead."  The priest squats beside Fergus, hand resting on the dead man's head as he mutters stern instructions to Bowbe and Freya both to care for his friend's spirit on its journey as befits his heroic death, much as his body will be cared for by the living.

Ozzy showed no outward sign of mourning, revealing little fuss over the death of a friend. It was inevitable for all, which made him wonder why more didn't celebrate the crossing into the after-life. Hearing mention of possible treasure hoarded by the now deceased giant, who also remains un-mourned or celebrated, Ozzy grins. " Yeah sure, I'll take point. Let's see what the 'ogre' had stashed. Of course, didn't Colwyn claim this hole when we showed up? You wanna' lead?" Ozzy gestures toward the mine with a polite nod of invitation for Colwyn to enter first.

Erista frowns at Colwyn's suggestion.  "This doesn't feel like the time..."  She hesitates, glancing at the cave.  "I mean, I suppose Fergus wouldn't want us to go hungry... or... or waste.  He didn't like waste.  Do you suppose anybody might have a bounty on the giant, if it was causing so much trouble?"

Colwyn steps closer to the mine entrance.  "Some other bugger can be takin' the giant's 'ead." he says, "I's goin' ter see if there's more of them in there.  Or maybe's it were 'avin' somethin' as we could be usin' ter give Fergus a proper funeral.  P'r'aps a bit of gold, so's we can 'ire young girls ter sing 'is name fer three days, an' be 'nointin' 'is body with rare oils.  An' maybe's there'd be enough gold left, so's we can be gettin' drunk as... as... really drunk people."

"Anybody wantin' ter 'elp.  Or is yer all wantin' ter be standin' out in the rain."

Then he stops, at the very threshold of the Stygian tunnel.

"'ere... what's that stink?  Gods, that's bein' foul."

Arkan perked up at hearing the other talk about possible treasure inside the giant's lair. He had completely forgotten about Sir Galdean urging them to take their rewards after his deed was accomplished.

He walked through the downpour and joined Colwyn at the dark entrance. "Let me light it up in here." He said, whispering a minor cantrip under his breath and gesturing inside the cave.

"You all go ahead," Eilieen urges Erista quietly.  "Ward your friends.  Call if there be danger within; this is work for priests," she finishes with a sad look down at Fergus.

A sigh follows.  "As Aarnr says."  She settles herself on the opposite side of Fergus' sadly broken body as the other priest begins his prayer.  Carefully, the Zadasthan goes about arranging Fergus in a more natural position.

While some members of the group remain outside the deserted mine, doing what they can to ensure that fergus arrives at his final destination (at least as far as this life is concerned) in good order, the rest take what light Arkan can provide and enter the mine itself.

The source of the stench becomes apparent fairly quickly.  Dead horses.  Or possibly mules... given their advanced state of decay it's impossible to say.

The tunnel runs about twenty yards into the cliff, before opening into a roughly circular chamber.  This seems to have been the giant's lair.  Filthy animal pelts, and filthier blankets form a sort of crude bed, and there are a few barrels (one of ale, and four of salted beef) standing near the bed.  Another barrel has its top smashed in, and now only contains a little ale, and a large leather drinking mug.

And near the barrels lays a dead body, a human male missing one leg.  His clothes are torn and bloodied, and the hilt of a sword lays nearby, the blade snapped just a few inches from the guard.  On his back is a pack...

"Both of us nearly died, fighting that Owlbear," Aarnr confesses to Eilieen as he squats next to Fergus, not yet willing to disturb his friend's rest.  "Don't know as he ever told ye how froggin' close we came.  Martin managed to patch us up before ye returned.  Figured I'd be the one to go - always thought Fergus was a bit too cautious ... unless one of us was in trouble - then there was nothing as could hold the pumpion back."

The priest shakes his head.  "That giant will be taking no more victims, thanks to Fergus.  We're all going to die, the unlucky ones old and infirm.  Fergus died, and because of him, others will live, even if they never know they owe him their lives."

"No pyre for him, mark ye - he wanted to lie beneath the soil."

Aarnr falls silent, remembering his friend.  Once Eilieen has had the chance to say any words she will, the priest will help wrap him, in a cloak or blanket or whatever they have, and do the same for the Justicar who needs no words.  The giant will be treated less kindly, for all Aarnr wants of him is his oversized and misshapen head.

"I never knew that," the priestess whispers.  "But he nearly died more than once, yes.  Always ready to charge in and help..."  Her voice trails off for a moment.  "He almost died fighting that accursed wyvern.  After that poison, I thought his luck had gotten better.  Now this."

She hangs her head.  "Poor Fergus."

Then her chin comes up.  "But by the gods, yes, he saved people," Eilieen hisses.  "No pyre; he shall find the rest he wished."

That said, Eilieen begins the prayers for those Zadastha can no longer help; shorter ones, that she might help Aarnr with preparing her friends - old and new - for their journey home.

Physical and spiritual.

Aarnr and Eilieen tend to the bodies, wrapping them in cloaks in preparation for the journey back to the cart and, thence, onward to Bard's Gate for their funerals.  Fergus proves to be the difficult one - too great of stature to be wrapped easily.

In the end Eilieen pins two cloaks together, her own and Fergus', and after that the task becomes a little easier.  At least the physical part of it does.

Inside the mine, Colwyn calls Arkan over with his magical makeshift lantern.  With better light, he studies the body.  "Cove isn't bein' dead long.  A day, tops.  Wonder where 'is leg's gone ter."

The pack draws a little attention too.  "It's lookin' new.  See 'ow shiny the buckles is bein'?  Shall we be takin' a look at what 'e's 'avin' in there?  On account of as it's not bein' any use ter 'im, whatever it is."

That addressed to the room as a whole, but the rogue doesn't wait for an answer.  Instead he reaches for the pack.  Then he stops.

"Any of yers want ter be checkin' fer dark magic round it?"

Having made his own light and ambled after the main group, wielding his new, talkative friend in one hand and his staff - with a knob on the end - in the other, Bilfro peeks over Colwyn's shoulder.

"Dark magic?  Magic per se is neither dark nor light, but it is how you use it!  This light spell, for instance, is currently used in a light way," says he and points to the knob at the end of his staff, "but it could be used for dark purposes too!  Ahem, be that as it may, please stand clear, I have memorised just what we need!"

He clears his throat and waits until Colwyn and anyone else have cleared the immediate area around the pack, then spreads his arms out, fixates the pack with his glare and calls out in a booming voice.

"Mavi eşek maymun muz yeşil kabuğu yankıları pişirin!"

Heartbeats passes during which one could hear a rolling pin drop on someone's foot, had there been one about to fall onto said foot.

"It will do," Eilieen decides.  The loss of her cloak is inconsequential; she might bemoan tears and smears, but that's a matter of course.  Weighing it against its purpose here, the cloak is meaningless as anything but a shroud.  "Gods."

Leaning back against the cart, she blows out a long breath redolent with weariness and sorrow.  One hand rises to rub her red, swollen eyes.  With a faint hiss, she draws it back, thin brows coming together for an instant; then Eilieen explores the pain she found on her cheek.

Oh.  That.

"You nearly killed me," she points out to Aarnr, surprisingly reasonably and quietly.  The death of a friend tends to level out one's emotional state with regards to lesser concerns.

With the grim work of preparing the bodies of Fergus and the Justicar now complete, Aarnr is looking forward to cheering himself up a bit by hacking off the giant's head, but is rudely interrupted in this pleasant task by Eilieen's accusation.

The priest's brow furrows, as he ponders whether he's missed an entire conversation.  Whilst the charge seems unreasonable on the face of it, the calm manner of its delivery is a little disconcerting, and denying it might be considered a bit inflammatory, so he settles for a puzzled "Are thou sure ?" congratulating himself on managing to resist the use of any colourful name-calling, let alone any of the variations that the priestess of Zadastha most despises.

"Did thou venture too close ?" he tries again, still unable to recall any action on his part that might possibly be considered wrong-doing.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:21, Thu 09 July 2015.

A wave at her cheek follows; Eilieen had half-suspected Aarnr wouldn't remember his action (it doesn't occur to her that he might lie; ridiculous to think Bowbe's priest would even consider such an act).  "Here.  You were hurt."  She sighs, hugging herself.  "I touched your back to heal you, and you struck at me.  A fingerwidth closer?"  The blade would have cloven her cheekbone.  "Or two?"

No more than that, and it would have torn through the front of her skull.

"Your baresark rages, Aarnr...yes, they have proven useful against opponents."  She touches her cheek again; no wince this time, just careful consideration.  "But they are dangerous for us as well."  Extrication (rather, fleeing) becomes impossible when Aarnr becomes enraged.  And...

Two fingerwidths.

"Ah.  Swords bear two edges, or somesuch," she murmurs with a vague wave of the hand.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:46, Tue 07 July 2015.

The silence in the cave becomes too much for Ozzy. Nudging Bilfro, he asks, " So? Whatta' you see? Is it? Magic?" He wants to be sure before he goes touching it and taking home some foul curse. He knew a cleric once who touched the wrong thing and ended up half his size. Ozzy wasn't interested in becoming any smaller than he already was. Life was challenging enough at his current height.

"I was hurt ?"  Aarnr looks for his wounds, finding none, yet he doubts not Eilieen's word.  "And by the grace of Zadastha, thou healed me."  In many ways the goddess of lusts and passions is most similar to the creed of his own god who espouses the same joyous abandon ... life and death ... opposite sides of the same coin.

In the heat of battle, a warrior must be quick on their feet and bold enough to risk the nearness of a wayward blade.  Battle-mad or no, the fact that his sword  came close enough to cut the priestess is very much her own fault ... though e'en so, he finds he does regret harming her, and does not like to contemplate worse.

But, the priest realises, he has given offence, and is thereby shamed.  To suggest that Eilieen came too close to the battle is an all but unpardonable slur upon her bravery, particularly as she has proven herself many times by facing even the mightiest foe with her spear.

"I am sorry."  The apology is heartfelt.

Bilfro casts his spell, and stands motionless, a seemingly accusing glare fixed upon the pack, the corpse, and anything else in the immediate vicinity.  After a few heartbeats standing in silence, the mage clears his throat.  But before he can speak, Colwyn demands, "Well?"

"Sssh!  Yes!  Silence!"

Bilfro squints with one eye while the other goes wider, peering at the pack.

"A-ha.  I see!"

Leaning in closer, he sniffs the pack, without touching it.

"Mmhmm.  Verily!"

He wets a finger a holds it up in the air.

"Huh.  I say!"

Looking at his finger he then leans in appearing to be listening to the pack.

"Three.  One is fair in strength, oh very much so.  Intermediate, that is."

He holds out his staff to whomever might be nearest, without looking.

"Here, hold this."

Then he waits, presumably for that someone to take the staff.

Arkan accepted Bilfro's staff gingerly, the light conjured by bearded man in stark contrast to the soft crimson ball Arkan himself had brought forth from the ether.

"Is it a spell trap? The Runes of Fiery Death perhaps?" He asked curiously, cautiously taking a step back from the vicinity of the pack.

"Can yer not be talkin' proper mate?" Colwyn asks, scratching his head at Bilfro's pronouncement.  "'ow's we supposed ter know what's bein' there if'n yer's not talkin' proper?"

Still, if Arkan is going to move back a little, then Colwyn will as well.  But not too far...  After all, he needs to be close enough to make a grab for anything interesting that doesn't look to dangerous.  So just a half step will do it.

"Maybe it's bein' a magic treasure.  I were once 'earin' tell of a purse what were always bein' full of coin, so long as yer wasn't emptyin' it." the rogue says, with a hopeful smile.

Beyond the mine, in the rain, Aarnr tries to avoid Eilieen's accusation by considering the fallen giant and its, regrettably, still attached head.  While doing so, he notices that the creature appears to have a bag, crudely fashioned from some kind of hide, hanging from a rope around its waist, and all but invisible against the filthy animal skins it wears as clothing...

Having made his apology, and with naught else that can be done for the departed until their friends return, Aarnr sets to hacking off the giant's head, preferring to use his axe over sword for the task.

Though he notices the bag, and cognizant of his friends' fondness for trinkets, it seems to him that it will be much easier to remove it once the fallen foe is headless, so the priest sets to with great enthusiasm, chopping away at the creature's thick neck until the grisly task is complete.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:42, Sun 12 July 2015.

"Shh," Erista looks up at Colwyn and Arkan sharply.  "He's concentrating."

She gives Bilfro an oddly proud look.  Or perhaps not so oddly, considering what a new feat `concentrating' seems to be for him, and how well he's doing at it.

Bilfro's eyes roll in his head, and not up as if he was passing out or going into a trance, as his request for silence clearly fell on deaf ears.  If only there had been mute mouths instead.

Erista receives a grateful glance before he finally inhales, deeply, and then puffs his cheeks before letting the air out, slowly.

"Firstly, I am merely checking for magic, not identifying it," says he much alike a teacher talking to young children.

"Secondly, the two fainter magical atmospheres are within the pack, whereas the moderate on is the pack itself."  He eyes the overly eager companions with a look that would appear to warn them.

"Thirdly, said magic is of what we call the school of conjuration, which stands for summoning a creature or another.  Much like Eileen's doggie," says he in with the voice of that teacher.

"Fourthly, the items unknown inside of said enchanted pack possess a mixture of previously mention school, but also that of illusion and enchantment.  That combination can create many an effect, beneficial and otherwise."  He inhales deeply yet again and turns his full attention to the two eager beavers.

"Caution, is what I recommend.  Procced with it.  Caution, that is."

He blinks and looks around, alarmed.

"My staff!  Where is my staff?  Have anyone seen it?  It got a knob on the end, because it's a wizard's staff!"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:52, Sun 12 July 2015.

Colwyn glares at Erista before shaking his head.  All that nonsense from Bilfro, and still nothing to tell him if touching the pack, or its contents, will cost the rogue a hand.  If not his whole arm.  Ozzy's talk of curses has made him nervous.

Casting about, he picks up a sizeable bone from the floor and carefully tosses it at the pack, from a safe distance.  Nothing happens, beyond the half-expected muted clatter as the bone bounces off and lands on the filthy floor.  Encouraging.  "So... any other bugger want ter see what's in... " 

And he stops speaking as, disturbed by the impact of the bone against the pack, a single gold coin slides from its hiding place to land in the dirt...

It doesn't take Aarnr long to decapitate the dead giant, the priest's heavy blade being more than sufficient to the task.  The now headless corpse is a deal less threatening, but no less disgusting.  The head itself, as Aarnr holds it aloft, is around twice the size of his own, and looks far less human.  It stares back at the man, dull of eye and slack of jaw.

A fine trophy with which to terrify the townsfolk.

And, of course, there is still the creature's bag...

Though he himself is rarely moved by thoughts of riches, save as a way to embellish a good tale, Aarnr finds himself pondering just what a creatures of such size and limited intellect¹ might value.  Since the severed head is unlikely to shed any light on the matter, the priest upends the bag, taking no precautions whatsover (there are benefits to being a devoted follower of the gods, after all),  tipping out the contents onto the ground, that he might discover the answer to the question he poses.

¹ Oooh, failed Irony check

"Here you go." Arkan said to Bilfro, handing him his staff, amused at the wizard's forgetfulness. He racked his brain trying to recall anything from his training Bilfro's information might trigger about the type of magic on and inside the pack.

Aarnr's apology leaves Eilieen with something to think about.  Considering her reply, she is taken off guard by his assault upon the giant's corpse.  For several seconds she hunts for her spear, secure in the knowledge he has spotted some belated movement on the creature's part...then realizes it's the monster's head Aarnr desires.

With a small sigh, Eilieen settles back to wait until it's safe to approach; clotted blood flying in all directions does not make for a good conversation, whatever Bowbe's priest might think.

Once he finishes, she wanders over to where he examines the bag's contents.

"I appreciate your thought on the matter, Aarnr," Eilieen begins, uncertain if he even recalls the subject of which she speaks.  Hopefully; she has never seen him thoughtful before, and it was a rare gift.  "Let us set this unpleasantness aside.  I hope only to avoid any danger of the sort in the future."  Her mouth quirks slightly.  "Realizing also that it might be folly to expect that; your rage is a part of you, I cannot expect you to simply leave it aside."

Erista nods.  "Right - caution, then.  Everybody step back."

Taking her own advice, she gives everyone a few seconds to follow suit, or not, as they choose, and then gestures towards the pack.

"What!?" Bulfro jumps a little as Arkan speaks.  "Who are you?  Why have you got my staff?"  A suspicious glare then eyes narrow even more to a peer.

"Wait, you're that new fellow, are you not?"  He gingerly retrieves his staff and holds it close.  "Arcane, was it?"

"Oh my goodness, wait!!" he exclaims when he finally registers Erista's foolishly senseless act of tomfoolery and he rapidly and quickly as well as hastily strategically relocates out of the entire cave with his robe, beard and staff (!) alike flapping in the force of wind his impressive rate of movement produces.

Eilieen appears to be thanking him, so Aarnr nods as if he understands, supposing he must deserve such.  But he's on safer ground with the discussion of his battle rage. "That is a gift from Bowbe," he assures the priestess, "a sign of his favour.  Few are so honoured."

"What is keeping the putt ... the others, do ye think ?  Perhaps they are in difficulties ?"  He clutches his axe tightly, looking towards the mine entrance, eyes shining at the prospect.

Aarnr and Eilieen examine the "gift from Bowbe", as the barbaric priest names the bag,  Pulling loose the length of cord which binds it closed, they peer inside.  Then they tip the contents out onto the giant's chest, which serves well enough as a makeshift table.  There isn't much: a sharp bone with a hole bored through the blunter end, a dull and rusted knife, a coil of rope, a lump of beeswax, and a bag of salt...

And, as if to answer Aarnr's question, Bilfro runs out of the mine entrance, seemingly fleeing in terror...

Arkan examines the pack from a safe distance, without touching it, while Erista takes a more direct approach. 

Several items fall from the pack as Erista uses magic to open up the top of it.  There are a number of gold coins, a stoppered metal flask, and an ivory tube, with a silver cap on each end.  There also seem to be a number of items of clothing (quite a lot of them) and a couple of small, coloured stones.

"You can go ahead now!"

Bilfro shouts over his shoulder and turns back to see Aarnr and Eileen which seems to prompt him to slow down a little.  So little it is barely noticeable, but then again so is the passing of the day to the world.

"Indeed, even a season is nothing to it," says he under his breath as he attempts to catch the very same.

"Ahem!  Greetings, fellow, uh...eh, companions...."  He nods at those still alive outside, suspecting the rest would not really bother with responding.  Not that those still living necessarily will respond either, but the odds are better.

"We've already got his head," Aarnr assures the gods-blessed madman, holding up the giant's severed noggin for Bilfro's inspection and brandishing his bloodied axe.

"Something chasing thee ?" the priest inquires hopefully.

Seeing the glint of gold laying in the dirt, Colwyn finds it almost impossible to resist the urge to dive forward and scoop up the precious metal.  Almost.  There is still the niggling little matter of Bilfro's having discovered magic among the loot.  And then his having made a beeline for the exit.

The latter of which suggests some terrible danger.

A thought which causes Colwyn to approach the body again with caution and trepidation.  He crouches and shuffles a little closer.  Almost within reach...

"Well, we's knowin' as some of this 'ere stuff's bein' magical, but what bits of it?"

Ozzy suggests, " Why don't we just repack it, drag it outside and sort it there?" as if to add further reason he adds, " It stinks in here. Sure is a nice looking pack though, is it heavy? I'll carry it if you're all still too scared of it."

"NYAAAAAHHHHHH!!!"

Bilfro slides to a halt and throws an arm up to shield himself from the grisly sight of the head held up before him.  His eyes dart between the cave behind him and, indirectly, the head ahead of him.

Then he evidently decides that exit, stage left is the best option and hurriedly pedals in the direction.

"Mmnnnnyeeeeh," answers he the barbarian, preoccupied with further casual skedaddling.

"Blreerghkl," he exposit, glancing back in case something indeed is giving chase, be it with or without a body.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:24, Sun 19 July 2015.

"That's bein' a good plan." Colwyn straightens up and scratches at his cheek, "The light's bein' better out there, so's we can be 'avin' a butcher's at what we's got."

He looks in Erista's direction, at least on average, "Can yer be usin' that there magic trick ter be shovin' all this 'ere stuff back in that there pack?  Then Ozzy 'ere can be takin it outside fer us."

And there it is... a plan.  At least it sounds like one.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:14, Sun 19 July 2015.

Aarnr's brow furrows, his vocabulary not up to the stress that Bilfro is placing on it.  He turns his head to regard the fleeing mage, then back to regard the severed giant's head once more, rotating that so he can look it in the eye ... then both his own gaze and, disturbingly, the giant's turn towards Eilieen, as the priest raises a quizzical brow.

"I try not to pay attention to Bilfro," Eilieen confesses, eyeing the severed head askance.  Surprisingly, it's far easier withstanding Aarnr's dubious expression.  "Given his usual antics, anything could be happening in the cave...or nothing."  She crouches to look at what tumbled from the giant's sack, pursing her lips in some disgust at the objects.  "If someone else begins shouting, that would indicate a problem."

She prods the bone with the tip of her spear.  "Ugh.  Perhaps he used this as a toothpick."

"He is vouchsafed insights from the gods," Aarnr agrees, watching Bilfro flee, pondering with no little interest whether divine favour will allow the backwards-looking wizard to avoid painful contact with the surrounding trees.  "And those puttocks oft beggar all understanding !"

"Ye think he used it to pry out his victims' teeth ?" the priest is intrigued by Eilieen's gruesome discovery, staring at the sharpened bone with fascination.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:23, Tue 21 July 2015.

While Aarnr and Eilieen discuss subjects as diverse as madmen and the dental hygiene of giants and their victims, inside the mine the newly discovered loot is pushed back into the pack.

Said pack is then picked up by Ozzy, who pronounces it light enough for him to carry with ease, at which point he makes for the exit in a much more sedate manner than Bilfro, followed by his companions.

In this manner the group is reunited, save only Bilfro, who is still running through the forest at a potentially lethal speed (while simultaneously not looking where he is going).

"We's finded some loot." Colwyn pronounces.  "Ozzy's havin' it fer now, jus' 'til we knows what we's 'avin', an' 'ow ter divvy it up."

He eyes the miscelaneous items found by Aarnr.  "Tell yers what.  Yers can be keepin' the stuff what yer was findin', an' we'll be keepin' that as we was findin'.  That bein' fair, innit?"

"If such insights emit from their fundaments, quite possibly," Eilieen murmurs a touch acerbically.  "And the gods' decisions oft leave me confabulated," she continues, with a sorrowful glance at where Fergus lies.  A long, weary sigh follows, then a sharp, surprised laugh at Aarnr's guess.

"Oh, dear.  No.  I mean, a pick with which to clean his teeth after eating.  His OWN teeth," she clarifies.  "I'm sure you've had food stuck between yours from time to time.  It..."  Difficult admission, here.  "...happens to all of us," she finally gets out.  "Well, some people carry small slivers of wood with which to pry out the bits of food."

She points at the bone.  "That would appear to be roughly the proper size for such a beast.  Or perhaps he simply used it as a needle, for darning his clothing.  It would explain the hole."  But Eilieen doesn't like that explanation.  It carries the heavy weight of the image of the giant within his home, carefully going about very, very pedestrian business.

Better to hold the image of the monster who slew their friend.

The priest nods at Eilieen's frank assessment of Bilfro, though to be honest he's just being froggin' polite, some of the shorter words leaving him guessing, never mind the dangerous long ones.

Food stuck between teeth.  Now that he can relate to, though why anyone would want to forego the pleasurable task of worrying such morsels free with their tongue is beyond him, and besides, he much prefers his own horrible interpretation.

Indeed, Aarnr is quite prepared to trade whatever portion of Colwyn's mysterious loot that the rogue thinks fair for such a treasure as the toothpick ... but is wary of accepting on Eilieen's behalf, nor in claiming the bone shard that the priestess seems to dislike so much, so settles for glaring at Colwyn.  But in a polite manner.  And directs the rogues attention to Bilfro with a pointed digit, raised brow demanding an explanation.  Again, politely.

Colwyn shrugs, then raises his hand to twirl the tip of a finger alongside his temple.  "Bilfro." he says, as if that were all the explanation that were needed.  And he's possibly correct - Bilfro might well live long enough to see his name become an adjective.  As in, "He's completely Bilfro."

He seems distracted though, watching exactly where Ozzy is at every moment... 

"We's needin' some cove ter be goin' ter fetch 'im back, afore 'e's gettin' 'imself killed.  A expert 'unter'd be good, so as they can be followin' 'im an' findin' 'im easier."

Erista nods.  "It'd have to be somebody brave, though," she points out.  "All that noise he's making could attract all sorts of vicious beasts."

His blood brother might be in trouble, his skill as a hunter is needed and there's the real possibility of dangerous creatures in dire need of killing.

Aarnr is up and running like a wolf in rapid pursuit of its dinner, giant's head flung carelessly aside as he picks up speed heading for the mine's opening.

"Ozzie !" he yells.  "Where are thou, thou rough-hewn ratsbane ?!!"  Now is not the time to feign politeness.

Standing at the cave entrance, Ozzy yelps as Aarnr nearly knocks him over in his haste. " Now what are you going all Bilfro about?" he asks, " I'm right here. Hey, check out this pack! Fashionable or what? You guys can have the stuff, I just want this!" He holds the found trove up for his big brother to see.

"Bilfro !"  Aarnr swears.  Ozzie's wise words remind the big priest that he'd let his concern for his blood brother (and the hope of finding monsters to smite) muddy his perceptions.  Swiftly playing back the recent conversations (or at least the bits he understood), he turns once more and races off, redoubling his efforts to catch the beslubbering beef-witted wayward wizard.

Colwyn winces as Ozzy offers the loot in the pack to Aarnr.  Then a thought strikes him - what if that was what the magic Bilfro mentioned was for?  To make anybody who possessed the pack want to give away its contents.  A terrible curse indeed!  One that might require all of their wizards to counter it.

"I's thinkin' I's seein' 'im over there.  'idin' roun' the back of that there tree.  See?  'is skinny arse is stickin' out from be'ind it." he says, pointing their bold and skillful trackers in the right direction.

Then he decides to speed the process, by yelling at the top of his voice, "BILFRO!  Get yer scrawny backside over 'ere!"

Yet another noise that's almost certain to attract vicious beasts...

Arkan shook his head as he watched the others try to bring Bilfro back to the group. The man might be a wizard, but he appeared to be somewhat addled. Still, he was a valuable member of the group, the fight against the giant having proven that.

"We can investigate the pack more thoroughly once we return to town. Assuming that is indeed where we are headed next?" Arkan asked Colwyn.

"Back to town might be best," Eilieen agrees, with a deep sigh for Aarnr's antics in seeking out Ozzy.  "Oswald!  Aarnr!  We intend to return to the town!"  Her sad gazes falls upon the dead.  "We have business there," the priestess concludes, her voice dropping to a whisper.

With a shake of her head, pale hair haloing around her, she rouses herself.  "And then the pack.  Where it is safe.  Certainly we should vacate this area; with so much loud noise - loud noise from what is most certainly the most powerful creature for miles, nothing will come...for a time.  But curiosity will set in, and we might find ourselves in a more difficult situation, unprepared."

Colwyn nods his own agreement, though he has little enough idea why people are asking him.  He is not the leader here - whatever he says, Aarnr and Bilfro will still do whatever their own thoughts tell them is for the best.  Whatever anybody says they'll still do what they want.  It's their nature.

Eilieen's point about other creatures arriving soon is a perfect example.  While any perfectly sane person, or even Bilfro, would do as she suggests to avoid any such beasts, he's almost certain that her words will just encourage Aarnr to stay here, hoping for the chance to fight them.

Nonetheless, he finds himself adding his own weight to the argument, "At least we should be gettin' Galdean an' Fergus back ter town, afore somethin' comes along an' tries ter eat them.  Fergus were bein' a good lad, an' 'e's deservin' a funeral what'll be sendin' 'im ter the next world with all 'is bits still bein' in the right places."

"I shall be with you momentarily, fear not!"

Hunkered down from behind his tree, and a few bushes, Bilfro calls out before muttering to himself that he cannot even unburden himself without getting harassed.  They are truly lost without his wise council and guidance, not to mention positively monumentally profound martial prowess.

But when you got to go then you got to go, simple as that.  After all, he is, despite appearance of contrary nature, a mere mortal.  More or less.

The 'momentarily' is a mystery, but the rest of Bilfro's words sounds encouraging.  Aarnr waits patiently for the mage, guarding him from the dangerous trees, then follows him back to the clearing where the rest of the group await.

"We needs transport the fallen to the cart and guard them lest wild animals claim their corpses," the priest echoes Colwyn's words, though his brow furrows as he ponders the logistics.

"Best we take them together ... I can bear up one myself - as to the other - some must carry him and the rest ward us from any threat."

"Ozzie can bring the giant's head."  His blood brother deserves that honour.

With no other plan apparently in motion, and Bilfro seemingly finished with his mysterious business in the woods (mysterious, that is, unless you happen to be a bear), returning to the cart with the bodies and the loot looks like the best course of action.

Aarnr picks up the body of Sir Galdean, with ease, while Bilfro, Colwyn and Arkan lift Fergus' somewhat heavier remains.  Ozzy, his new pack still slung over his shoulder, picks up the giant's head and the monster's sack, with its sundry contents.  Leaving Eilieen and Erista to act as guards... or lookouts.

The odd procession starts back along the track, leaving the corpse of the giant to be found by whatever lucky scavengers happen upon it.

The walk is a little slower than when the group had first approached the mine, what with them having more to carry, but they do reach the cart, were the oxen wait patiently, without much difficulty.  They lay the bodies in the cart, and Aarnr takes his now customary position as driver.  Sir Galdean's mount is secured to the rear of the vehicle.  Then they set off for Bard's Gate...

Colwyn walks quietly beside the cart, until a thought strikes him.

"We should be 'avin' a drink in Fergus's 'onour ternight.  Be givin' 'im a proper wake, like."  The rogue, in spite of it having been his idea, doesn't seem too excited by it.

Ozzy was smiling from ear to ear, holding yet another swaddled trophy in his arms. He had discovered that organ harvesting could be quite lucrative and was rather enjoying playing his part as a Reaper. He had considered stowing the beastly head in his newfound pack, but he didn't want to ruin the lining. Best to transport as he had the poisoned stump of Wyvern, wrapped securely in his arms. Hopefully they could make it back to town unmolested, as it looked as if everyone needed a drink and time to properly mourn the big farm boy who had been so eager to see the dangers of the world. For his efforts he had earned the Great Reward that all of us would eventually receive.

All the blood and tears in the world do not bring the reality of Fergus death so sharply into focus as when the priest takes his seat to the left of the driver.  For a moment Aarnr expects Fergus to climb up and take the reins ... but of course he does not, and it is left to the priest to slide over and do so himself.

While Aarnr has little skill in driving, and this is his first time without the young farmer staring over his shoulder and offering helpful advice (some of which he even heard over the grinding of his teeth and the frequent screams of abuse at the oxen, Bowbe, the ruts in the road, the trees and anything else that got in the way).  Yet Aarnr steers the cart with confidence ...

"A fine idea, Colwyn.  We shall tell stories, sing songs - well, Oswald will, and perhaps Erista - and remember our friends, fallen on this quest."  Her lips twist, and she fights against another bout of tears.  The loss seems to keep hitting home, over and over again; Eilieen wonders if it will ever stop.  "The Nameless One, and now Fergus.  And yes, Sir Galdean - we knew him a short time, but he was valiant."

The priestess bows her head, walking beside the wagon herself.  After a moment, she remembers her purpose and raises it up, scanning the looming undergrowth with bright, suspicious eyes.

She will not fail those in the cart, here; any ambush must perforce reach her unprepared friends through her.

"A fine idea." Arkan agreed with the others as he walked beside the cart. He had not known the burly farmer for long, but he had the heart of a warrior and had shielded them in battle. Had it not been for Fergus, any one of them could be dead in his stead. "We should see to a proper burial for him as well as for Sir Galdean."

His body was slightly shivering underneath his dark garments as the rush of battle faded, leaving him drained. The chill from the weather and his wet clothing also did not help, and Arkan was looking forward to a night by the fireplace, and a hot drink to sip on.

His mind could not help but wander to the ornate scroll case he had spotted in the bag, and he wondered what it contained. A map to long lost treasure, a note to a long dead lover, or perhaps the words to a forgotten spell? They would see once they got back to town, Arkan hoped.

The journey back to Bard's Gate is not a long one, and short as it is, it is without incident.  Only when they come within sight of the gate to they meet anybody else on the road.

There, before the walls of the city, wait a group of knights, clad in a style similar to Sir Galdean, and mounted on heavy horses.  As the group approaches, one of the knights points to the war horse tied to the back of the cart, and another, an older man, rides forward and raises his hand to halt the party.

"Hold, my friends.  I see that you lead the horse of a Justicar of Muir.  Are you, then, the allies Galdean spoke of when last he visited our hall?  Has our brother faced a deadly foe in your company, and fallen before it, as he vowed to do?"

At the back of the wagon, Ozzy pops up with his macabre trophy held up in both hands. " Sir Galdean stood against THIS!" he reaches up with one hand to tug on the dead lower lip as he adds with a false baritone, " And I lost my head trying to fight with him. He fought with honor and a strength greater than my own!"

Arkan sighed internally at Oswald's display with the giant's head. This really did not seem appropriate. So he spoke up to the older knight, "Well me good sirrah. Yes, Sir Galdean did face a monstrous foe, a giant of terrible stature, and was killed while fighting valiantly against it. We took vengeance on his behalf upon the creature."

Aarnr's eyes narrow as he sees the group of heavily armoured men in the distance, and he ensures his blade is ready ... yet when it turns out that the men are not guards at all, but fellows of the fallen Galdean, he relaxes somewhat, deeming they share the same sense of pride and loss as does he.

"Ye should know that one of ours also died fighting the giant," he informs them, managing not to swear or insult them in the process.  "His name was Fergus and he too fought bravely."

There is a murmur of approval from the other knights, a murmur which is stilled as the leader raises his hand and says, "'Tis good that he met a fate worthy of a true Justicar, and made recompense for his crimes.  Now he can face the Goddess without the burden of sin to weigh down his spirit, and take his place with her, in the Manse of Steel and Silver."

The man rides forward to examine the giant's head at closer range, "We thank you for your assistance, and for witnessing his redemption." and then he frowns as he notices that there are two bodies in the cart.  "At some cost to yourselves, it would appear."

The knight bows his head and whispers a brief prayer:

Muir, guide the spirit of this worthy stranger,
who has shown devotion to Your cause,
and protect it on its journey to its new home.
So be it.

"Now will we take possession of Galdean's body, and his other worldly possessions, and bear them back to our hall, where they will be interred with due ceremony, and his name will be added to the Roll of Sacrifice."

He beckons, and four of the knights dismount, handing the reins of their steeds to others, and they come forward to gently remove Galdean's body from the cart, and bear it away.  Others collect Galdean's horse, and his belongings.

It seems that their new, brief friend remained true to his beliefs.  Eilieen bows her head; she cannot fault a man who will go to glory with his god.  Who is she to decide the right of things?  That Zadastha would not approve is meaningless; here is a man who serves a different goddess in a different manner.

He has done his duty.

She steps forward to speak, her voice a clarion.  "Take him gently, and know he hesitated not at all.  An end as brave and forthright I have rarely seen.  Such a man may rub shoulders with any of the fallen."

Colwyn nods absently at the speeches and the thanks.  Then a word permeates his mind... crimes.  Galdean had apparently committed crimes that required him to sacrifice himself to make them right in the eyes of his god.

Which was all well and good, but what if making them right in the eyes of Muir didn't make them right in the eyes of his victims, or their families?  What if those people decided to claim some form of compensation from those who had been with him at the end of his life.

The rogue raises a hand, and clears his throat noisily.

"What crimes was 'e doin' what needed 'im ter be makin' it good with 'er upstairs?"

The question brings an embarrassed silence in response...

Arkan watched the knights carry their comrades body in respectful silence, and nodded approvingly at Eileen's words, honoring the old Justicar.

Colwyn's words though, elicited a grimace. The knights would not like that, and Arkan was about to speak up in defence of the dead Sir Galdean, but then caught his words before doing so. He had to admit, his curiosity was piqued. What sort of crimes would a Justicar consider atonement for, especially this late in life?

"You will have to excuse our comrade, he is the curious sort." Arkan said to the knights with a small smile. "I am sure Sir Galdean's penance was for not meeting his own high standards, or those of his Order." He added helpfully.

Aarnr is somewhat puzzled by this morbid preoccupation with Sir Galdean's crimes - did not the man singlehandledly engage the giant and died horribly but bravely ?  What else could be of import besides that ?

Of more concern is that 'interred', but the priest is now aware of the curious predilection of these people for something other than a proper pyre and can accept if not respect their beliefs.

"Is there a temple to Freya in this ... city ?" he asks with studied politeness, suspecting that Fergus might not be welcome at the Inn.

"His crimes... " the leader of the knights definitely looks embarrassed and nervous, but manages a smile of gratitude for Arkan, "He engaged in acts unbecoming of a Justicar of Muir.  But his atonement means that they are a thing that has been erased from the scroll of his life."

Colwyn does his best to conceal a sneer.  A man could spend his entire life murdering children and burning entire villages of elders to the ground.  And as long as he arranged to end his days by getting killed by some monster that he couldn't hope to fight, it would all be good.  It would be as if his crimes had never happened.  And it wouldn't matter that he had lied to those that he persuaded to help him with his quest, and didn't tell them his true reasons for wanting such a death.

The knight, however, doesn't appear to notice Colwyn's reaction, and nods to Aarnr, seemingly glad to change the subject, "Yes, the priestesses of Freya have a small temple just beyond the North Gate."

Thankfully, Aarnr himself has never done anything in his life that would be becoming to a Justicar, even by accident ... besides which, great deeds should be spoken of or sung about, loudly, not trapped in inky scratchings on fragile paper and then hidden away in a private library to be consumed by mould and age.

But since he's being polite, the priest refrains from informing the knights of this, smiling broadly and nodding his head in thanks, waiting to be sure nobody else wants to make Muir's finest even more uncomfortable before wrestling the cart and oxen to the North Gate (assuming these fops and dandies have located it to the actual north of the city, otherwise there's going to be words bandied and a tricky reversing manoevere in the near future).

While he is sure a dead Fergus won't get served at the tavern, he's looking forward to the reaction to the severed head of the giant - and even better that trophy is in Ozzie's charge so he can escape his ghostly grandmother's wrath !

Carrying Galdean's body, leading his horse, and with his other possessions in their... er... possession, the knights take their leave, heading back into the city to deal with the funerary arrangements for their brother in arms.

The bold adventurers also re-enter Bard's Gate, and with relatively few enquiries are soon making their way through the maze of streets and alleys, on their way to the North Gate.

Beyond the North Gate is an area of farm land, and in the centre of that stands a large wooden building surrounded by a simple fence - the temple of Freya - with several rows of grave markers to one side.  Oddly, though the markers are present, they seem to be too closely spaced for there to be actual graves beneath them.

As the cart approaches, followed by the rest of the group, a woman working in a flower bed outside sees the strangers coming closer and hurries into the building.  A short while later she exits again, accompanied by four others.  All are dressed in clothing similar to that worn by Shandril, the priestess in Fairhill.  All of them stop at the gate in the fence and wait for the visitors to come closer.

Most of them are human, and of approximately middle age, but one stands before the others, an elderly halfling leaning on a walking stick...

"Acts unbecoming of a Justicar," Eilieen muses.  She doesn't know what those could be, but it certainly lays a shadow over Galdean's death.  It's probably best that the knights take him, now; she'd rather remember him as a man seeking an honest death in line with his beliefs, to better ensure the safety of others, than a man hurled by guilt and desperation into suicide.  "Better he seek restitution by attempt to make better his crimes," she muses. Whatever they happened to be, and if such betterment were possible.

Done now, though; there remains naught of him but his corpse, which the knights bear away.

So it falls upon the group to bring Fergus home, to what will be his body's final resting place.  Eilieen remains quiet for the short trip, lost in the rain of memories of her fallen friend.  She rouses herself as they arrive, looking upon the group before them and the Halfling in their lead.  With hurried steps, she sweeps out before the wagon, dropping to a knee a few paces from the women awaiting them.

"Hail to you, tenders of Freya's temple.  We bring the earthly form of one of her servants, slain in battle with a creature of evil."

Erista waves politely, and adds, "He was our friend.  His name is Fergus, from Fairhill."

For the sake of the memory of his fallen friend, Aarnr refrains from adding anything ...

Walking silently besides the others Arkan stops by the front of the wagon as Eileen goes forth and introduces them to Freya's flock.

"While a mighty warrior, he was a peaceful young man at heart. A grave under the sky, and surrounded with flowers and the blessing of his friends would suit him better in his rest than a warrior's dank tomb." Arkan added, glancing at the elderly halfling.

The halfling nods her head, her expression filled with sadness.

"We understand." she says, hobbling forward slowly.  "I am Velia, leader of this temple.  We shall give him a burial in the earth, where his remains can nourish the crops, and be returned to the bosom of Freya.  We will place a marker for him, with the others, so that his friends will have a place to pray for him,"  And she lifts her stick to indicate the other markers, close to the temple.  "for his grave will, itself, be unmarked.  This is our way."

She signals to the other clerics, who move forward, "We will take his body, and prepare it for burial.  We will choose a place for him, with the guidance of the Goddess, and at sunrise tomorrow you should return to attend his funeral.  All we ask, in return, is a donation to maintain the temple."

Colwyn ponders the priestesses words.  Another funeral at sunrise.  Don't these priests sleep?  But he refrains from saying anything of that sort.  Instead he bows his head, "Sunrise.  I's bein' sure as we'll all be comin' ter see 'im laid away.  An' we can be givin' a bit ter the temple fer the sake of our mate."

He looks towards the markers - there are quite a lot of them.  Does that mean that the fields, with crops growing in them, are filled with graves?

Velia closes her eyes and murmurs a short prayer as Fergus' body is carried past her and into the temple.  Then she turns her gaze back to Fergus' companions.

"The Goddess will take him to her heart, and he will find surcease from his toil.  Blessed shall he be, as he becomes part of the earth, and all that grows in it."

"Until tomorrow, farewell."

Erista nods solemnly. "We're happy to leave a donation in Fergus' memory," she says. "Thank you."  Stepping to the side, she nudges Ozzy with her elbow, and nods her head towards the donation bowl.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 01:06, Mon 24 Aug 2015.

Broken from his reverie, Ozzy whines at Erista, " Owwww, ...why you pokin' at me?" to which her subtle glance at the donation box answers his question. " Oh! Oh, oh yeah..." he says, pausing to do a moment of math. There had been eight of us which entitled him to an eight of their acquired loot. He cups his chin in one hand, an eyebrow arched as he seems to consider a passing cloud. Division and fractions were never one of his mental strengths. He begins pulling out stacks of gold coin, counting out a full two hundred and fifty to cover any funerary expenses incurred by the temple. " An' make sure he has lots of flowers." he says, pulling his purse string closed.

Aarnr almost warms to these mercenary priests.  Almost.  But at least they've an attitude he can respect.

And this, after all, was what his friend would have wanted ...

Once Ozzie has handed over an unfathomable number of those useless metal discs, Aarnr turns the Oxen about for the trip back into town.

"Let's find another Inn," he suggests.  Eilieen left a corpse on the doorstep of the first, while he didn't like the second at all.

"And if it comes up," the priest's tone suggests he's going to be froggin' annoyed if any creature ever has the temerity to slay him, "just throw me on a burning fire.  Ye should eat my heart first, of course ..."

Ozzy glances uncomfortably up at his blood brother. " Is that a metaphor? Cause if it isn't, I call dibs on the liver!" He had never even considered cannibalism until this moment, and Aarnr's offer had him now sizing him up like a side of beef. " Maybe we should stop for some breakfast soon?" he asks as his stomach growls audibly.

"We shall return," Eilieen assures the priestess before rejoining her friends.  Their customs are a tad odd, but it was Fergus' way.  She respects that.  And there's a vague understanding for the priests' odd funeral within her, especially when explained as it was.  She shakes her head, glancing over her shoulder for a final look at the body of her friend.  All that work she put in saving him from the Wyvarrst...and now, gone.

Shaking out her tension with a heavy sigh, she places a hand on Ozzy's shoulder.  "That was well done, Oswald."  Her lip trembles, but her voice remains steady.  "Well done, indeed."  Resolutely, she ignores Aarnr's demands.  Someone else can eat his heart.  "But breakfast does sound like a fine idea."

Aarnr looks about him, hoping to spot this woman who his blood brother would like to meet, but is on safer ground with Ozzie's desire to eat his liver, nodding happily, and patting the Halfling on the shoulder as he comes to the crux of the matter.

Religion, funerary rites, cannibalism ... all these matters generally cause contention ... but breakfast !  Ah, now that everyone can agree on.

"Ye should keep an eye out for a likely Inn," Aarnr suggests to his surviving companions as he struggles to control the oxen.

Erista walks slowly along.  "I don't think I could eat anyway," she mumbles, mostly to herself, just as Aarnr is assuring himself that everyone can agree on breakfast.  "I'd just like to lie down for a while."

Bidding the clergy farewell Arkan fell back in line with the others as they began their trek back to town.

"I admit food sounds good. Nothing like a battle to the death against a mighty foe to make one appreciate the finer things in life. I'm famished!" He said to the others. "Once we eat perhaps we can take a closer look at the pack from the giant's lair; I am interested in that scroll case." Arkan added, looking at Ozzy.

"Are thou ill ?" Aarnr asks Erista, a note of concern in his voice as he looks back over his shoulder to regard the halfling.

Their business with the priestesses of Freya concluded, at least for today, the group head back into the city in search of a suitable inn.  There seems to be no shortage of drinking establishments.  Bard's Gate has a veritable plethora of taverns, inns, pubs, hostelries, saloons and taphouses.  The difficulty comes in finding the right one.

The Silver Pheasant looks too expensive.  The Jovial Merchant too.  The Bantam Cock looks decidedly unpleasant, and The Three Pigs smells of vomit and rancid food.  The Knife in the Dark doesn't seem very welcoming...

And so they make their way through the twisting streets, looking for the perfect establishment in which to celebrate the life, and death, of their friend.

And then Colwyn says, "That place is lookin' like it might be right enough ter 'old a wake fer Fergus."

He points to a sign hanging outside an inn.  A sign depicting a strapping youth clad in simple peasant clothes, and with a scythe slung over one shoulder.  And below the picture, the words, The Farmer's Son...

Pursing her lips, Eilieen falls back to walk next to Erista.  With a wave of the hand, she indicates Aarnr should go onward.  Looking down at her Halfling friend, she offers a sad smile.

"This is about Fergus, is it not?" the priestess inquires quietly.

"The lad was far more shy than thee or me," Aarnr reminds Colwyn, "he'd not have liked anything that shone a light on his deeds, matter not that he'd earned it."

"But it will serve us well indeed," he claps the rogue on the back. "And it is we who must remember him, so we shall remember well in this place, under that banner !"

There are far too many people in the narrow street for Aarnr to simple leave the cart and oxen.  While he is unworried at the thought of thieves - indeed he would welcome the opportunity for blood-letting, this day is, after all, about Fergus, and so the priest must set aside such simple pleasures as hacking apart cart-snafflers to concentrate on the task at hand.  "Do they have," he struggles to recall the unfamiliar word, "staples ?"

Erista shrugs a little, looking down.  "I guess," she replies, and then sighs.  "I just.. I always felt safe with Fergus.  You know?  He was like... like...  Home," she decides.  "Being with him felt like being home."

Eilieen stares straight ahead for a long moment, her hand still resting on her friend's shoulder.  "Yes," she replies.  "Home."  She had never had one before, not in the Church, but here?  With her friends?  "You are all home for me," the priestess finally states.  "And now part of that home is gone."

Closing her eyes for a long moment, she continues to walk beside the diminutive sorceress.  "I'm sorry, Erista."  Eilieen squeezes with her hand, lightly.  "I know...you and he were close.  You spoke much.  I wish I had.  Is there anything we might do?  I...don't need breakfast, not really," she confesses.

" Whether we eat or not is inconsequential. I would like to raise a glass to the life of Fergus however, so lets head over to the Farmer's Son and grab a few pints." Ozzy says, agreeing whole heartedly with Colwyns discovery. It seemed fated to be the place to hold a wake for their lost friend.

The Farmer's Son is a reasonably clean and tidy place, as it turns out, if a little quiet at this time in the late afternoon.  There is even a stable in the yard at the back, next to the privy, where Aarnr is able to house the oxen for the sum of three coppers each, while the cart sits in the yard, under the watchful gaze of the tavern's stable keeper.

Inside the tavern itself, the drinks seem reasonably priced.  The sawdust on the floor is clean and shows signs of being fresh today, and fills the establishment with the scent of sandalwood.  Vermin appear to be absent, and a large black and white cat curled on the end of the bar seems to have the utmost confidence in its ability to keep them that way.  It opens one eye lazily, as the group of strangers enter, then decides that they don't constitute just cause for it to interrupt its afternoon nap, and so closes it again with an almost audible "snap".

There seem to be only two other customers at the moment, a couple of old men sitting in a corner, who look up briefly from their game of "Push Jack Push!" to quickly appraise the newcomers.

A quick inquiry of the tired looking woman behind the bar reveals that this level of activity is about normal for the time of day, but then she goes on to assure the group, "But it'll pick up in a couple of hours, once the market and the shops start to close.  Always does.  So... what would you like?"

"Food and drink," Aarnr clarifies for the woman.  He's already handed over a handful of the coins they call coppers to hire the man outside to fend off robbers and will be relying on his friends when the numbers get more complicated.

The quiet of the tavern quite suits the priest's mood at the moment, though undoubtedly he'll become more gregarious after a few drinks, unless any muggers or braggarts intervene.

And at least this cat shows no immediate signs of getting itself lost ... indeed, it looks a most surly beast, and from the lack of vermin a skillful killer.  The sort of pet that Aarnr might almost like ...

"Not much," says Bilfro to the woman.

Bilfro inhales.

"I'll have a shepherd's pie, three pork sausages, two stakes, preferably made out of meat and, if possible, cow meat, then I'll have a medium mild cow milk cheese, half a pound or so, a couple of eggs with the sunny side up, half a dozen potatoes, a pint of mild ale, a jug of water, some fresh or fresh-ish bread, half a loaf or a few buns depending on the form and shape of said bread and finally some garlic and six, no, make that five peas.  Need my greenery too, but I'm not all that hungry.  Thank you!"

He smiles at her briefly and then ambles over towards the feline and reaches out to pet it.

The cat, briefly, considers killing Bilfro for his temerity, then decides on a much worse punishment, and simply ignores the man instead.

The barkeep regards the mage as if unsure whether or not he is joking, then decides that it might be wise not to question the instructions of any member of the group, since thgey all look well-able to take care of themselves, and some of them appear to be teetering on the brink of not really caring about potential property damage and wholesale mayhem.

Instead she just makes a note of the order, and then of whatever everybody else wants.  About when she gets to Aarnr, she starts to smile.  By Arkan she has a definite cheerful grin, and by Erista, she appears to be struggling to smother a laugh...

This looks to be the most lucrative day that she can remember.  She calls the food orders through to the kitchen, and starts to serve the drinks.

Aarnr too listens in slack-jawed astonishment at Bilfro's litany, recovering only when the barkeep's smile turns his way to mumble "I'll have what he's havin' !"

Erista shrugs, and shakes her head.  "I don't think so," she answers.  "We can't bring him back.  I just... need some time, is all."  She looks up, and makes herself smile.  "Thank you, though.  You help.  You always do," she assures Eilieen.

Even after staring at the kitchen in silent consideration for the better part of a quarter hour, Ozzy cannot find his appetite. Every food seems to remind him of Fergus, the big dirt clod with the happy smile. The world would be a dimmer place without him. Even the odd phrasing of words by Bilfro don't bring a grin to his face. Ozzy - usually so accepting of the inevitable fate we all share - actually feels a pang of grief for their lost friend. Apparently a pang was as fulfilling as a nine course meal. " Just a beer please." he asks of the barkeep as she brings out the orders of his comrades. Maybe he could drown the sorrow. " So, ...what's the happiest memory any of you shared with Fergus?" he asks.

Ozzy's question is a good one, and Colwyn ponders his answer while he waits for his ale and his meal - a slice of ham and cheese pie, with turnip and cabbage - until finally he says, "I isn't knowin' Ozzy, there's bein' too many ter be thinkin' on.  'e were always bein' a good mate, I's knowin' that.  One as wasn't lettin' yer down when yer was bein' in trouble, even when 'elpin' yer were gettin' 'im in trouble as well."

"Ter Fergus!" the rogue raises his mug high, "'ere's 'opin' yer's bein' in a good place, mate."

And he drains the mug in a single draught, though it must be said that a fair proportion of the ale ends up on the front of his jerkin.  The empty mug bangs down on the table, and Colwyn belches loudly, then starts eating his food.

"Fightin' that pheas ... that owlbear," Aarnr avows as he takes his turn.  "Fergus wasn't the keenest to begin with, an' for a while it was touch an' go which of the three of us would fall first ... but he saved me, an' we slew the beast together, an' then Bowbe saved him," the priest remembers the exhilaration of the battle and the heady thrill of victory, and chooses to forget that he himself was on death's door, while the farmer's son had one foot over the threshold.

"An afterwards, as we bound up our wounds to try to staunch the blood, Fergus told me about Freya.  He said that she's the goddess of love an' health an' growin' things, but also the goddess of war an' death cos if ye love somethin' then," the priest pauses to be sure he has the words just right, "sometimes ye need to fight to protect it an' ye can't have new life without death."

"He said it was like how ye need to harvest a field an' burn the stubble before ye can plough an' sow."  The priest assumes his friends know far more of such matters than he.  "An he says that Freya has a servant that some call the Gardiner because he prunes her garden to make it fruitful an' pulls out anythin' that is barren or bears bad fruit."

"An' he said some call this servant the Reaper instead."

"TER FERGUS !" Aarnr loudly echoes Colwyn's toast as he raises his own mug and knuckles one leaking eye with his fist.  "Ye tell that Gardiner or Reaper or whoever he is where to cut, ye hear !  He'd be wise to listen to thee !"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:48, Sun 06 Sept 2015.

As time wears on, the drinks flow, and more customers start to arrive at The Farmer's Son.

Most appear to be common folk - labourers, market workers, field hands, dung collectors (these keeping mostly to themselves in a corner far from the door, but close to an open window).  All seem glad to celebrate Fergus' life, and his heroic death at the hands of the giant, whose head brings many an "Ooooh!" and an "Aaaah!" and requests to touch it.

Perhaps it is the fact that Fergus was one of their own, the son of a farmer, and not some rich and powerful knight.

Beyond the windows, the sky starts to darken...

"An applaud!" asks absent acquaintances associate abjectly.

Bilfro boldly blessed brave bygone boy.

Clearly, companion constituted celebrated chap.

Dear departed dead dude.

Evermore entirely ended.

Forever fighting.

Gone.

"H....ic."

There are few more common that Aarnr, and the priest chuckles with delight at the reaction of the locals who frequent the Farmer's Son.  "Their praise and admiration would mean more to our Fergus than that of any rich fool or bejewelled dandy," he yells loudly in Ozzie's ear !  "Give the woman more of those base coins, my brother !  Drinks for all !"

Bilfro's words of gods-gifted wisdom set Aarnr to nodding, for all he's quite far gone in his cups, and demand response in kind.

"I just know lesser men need oft pose questions - rare souls trust unto valour without exception, ye ... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz,"

But alas, the priest slumps forward on the wooden table before him, head resting comfortably in a puddle of ale, and snoring loudly before he can finish his rejoinder.

The evening stretches on, as more people start to arrive at the inn.  Most of them seem content to join the wake for Fergus, and those who aren't simply leave after a quick drink, seeking a quieter establishment.

It's fair to say that the ones who remain are making enough noise to drown out even Aarnr's snoring and the alcohol fuelled yells which he occasionally gives in his sleep.  Fergus seems to have become quite a popular local hero, even though he had never been to Bard's Gate before.  In fact, considering that this would constitute his first (and last) visit to the city, as the hours pass there appear to be more people claiming to have known him.

"I was with Fergus when he killed the owlbear!" proclaims a drunken vegetable merchant.

"Well, I was with 'im when he fighted a army of orcses!" responds a butcher, deep in his cups.

"Bah!" declares a dung collector, from under the table used by members of the world's third oldest profession, "Where the bloody 'ells was yers when Fergus cutted off the wyverererat's 'ead!  I was there.  I seen it with me own eyes!"

And everybody who goes to the counter for more drinks makes a point of buying one for the giant's head, and pouring it into the monster's open mouth, so that the sawdust on the floor soon becomes a sticky mess of ale, wine, spirits and waste wood.

The barkeep is happy though, since at some point in the evening she has realised that people are prepared to pay extra for "one for the giant".

It is, of course, only a matter of time before it happens...

An aging, cross-eyed farmer, egged on by his mates, staggers up to the table, and slurs, "Oi, Zadatshan, how's 'bout a kissh then?"

Eilieen shakes her head as well.  "Take the time you want.  I suspect I'll do the same."  She studies the tavern and sighs.  "I don't really feel up to a long night of drunken revelry.  Perhaps I'll simply get a room and sit quietly, awaiting morning.  If you'd like to join me, by all means."

A shrug follows.  "I realize I've left myself completely open to the usual Zadasthan comment, but I'll take that chance."

Sadly, Eilieen later finds herself in that very situation when, while downstairs attempting to collect Aarnr, she is accosted by a sadly inebriated farmer.  It really, really had to happen at some point.  For a long moment she eyes the farmer, considering the path to righteousness.  Pity him?  Perhaps.  His friends will certainly make mockery of his failure.  But no; his drinking was his own business - much like Aarnr's, she considers with some distaste - and his choice to bother her his own as well (if alcohol-fueled).

One thin brow rises.  "Perhaps not.  If you will excuse me, I need to help my friend."

The loss of Fergus has cut deep, and she has little pity to share for men who have drowned themselves in liquor.  Aarnr, at least, has an excuse.

Bilfro, being somewhat in his tippety-hat state, stands up to defend the honour - or something - of Eilieen, or at least attempts to.  He lurches forward, his feet mostly missing the ground beneath, and bunts his little tippety-hat head into the slurring farmer of the crossed eyes' belly.

"Oof," says he eloquently and attempts to steady himself by grabbing onto whatever is nearest.  That just so happens to be the farmer, of course, and the best grip is naturally found in the farmer's clothing just around the collar.  Lifting his eyes to the crossed ones, he belches something about "shush mea" or possibly "schuusch moo".

"Eff^efnaf_lavah!" clarifies he to his support, all while quite evidently trying to compete with the cross-eyedness of said support.  Next he proceeds to shake the farmer, if slowly since his footing is, at best, dubious.

_{"Frrgss....."}

"That'd be nice," Erista agrees, actually smiling a little.  "My Aunt Gatha sometimes said, just because you want to be alone, doesn't mean you have to do it alone."

Roused from his drunken slumbers, Aarnr reaches out towards the vision of loveliness and ...

Eilieen.

Eilieen !!!!

The priest freezes, mouth gaping open though whatever comment he might have ventured is still trapped within as he sobers instantly, a smile of what might very well be horror growing on his face which doesn't quite reach the eyes which stare at his outstretched hand as if it belongs to another, someone who might be in immanent danger of being shouted at severely.

Gaze flicking around for some way out, perhaps a quick run for the door and thence the stables where he might swiftly harness the oxen and beat a, well a getaway at least.  Yet perhaps just this once the poor priest garners Bowbe's sympathy, for his roaming eyes fall upon Bilfro's struggles.

"Why is the madman kissing that old farmer ?" Aarnr inquires, with more thankfulness than puzzlement, attaining his footing to loom largely as he extends a finger to point.  "Would ye have me rescue him ?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:07, Wed 16 Sept 2015.

Arkan had been sitting solemnly besides his companions, a cup of tart wine held in his grip. It had been chilled when he had ordered it earlier, just like the ones before, but was now warm. Still, he sipped on it absently once in a while, as he listened to the others recant their time with Fergus.

Arkan himself did not have much to say about the lad, having only recently met him, but his bravery on the battlefield as well as his humility were in no doubt in the warrior-mage's mind, and he made sure all gathered there knew about the part Fergus played in defeating the giant, and taking a fatal blow that could surely have killed any one of them

As the afternoon turned into night, and the speech of the commoners who had graced the wake started to slur Arkan considered if they should start considering turning in for the night. The amusing embrace of a drunk farmer with Bilfro and Aarnr's drunken awakening at the scene made up his mind and he spoke, "Well friends, should we turn in for the night? Rappan Athuk awaits, after all."

There is tension in the air so thick that it could be used to beat an ogre to death...  Colwyn moves, as surreptitiously as possible to stand close to the farmer, ready to lend aid to Bilfro if the mage's attempt to distract the drunken farmer should erupt into violence.  Surreptitiousness is, of course, a matter of opinion.  Colwyn's attempt at quietly flanking the man is noticed by everybody in the room, and is not helped by the fact that he almost trips over a stool.  As it is, he barks his shin painfully, and emits a yelp of agony.

Arkan attempts to calm the situation with talk of turning in...

And Aarnr pushes himself to his feet...

One of the farmer's friends yells out, "Look out Bill, them's gangin' up on yer!"

The farmer himself tries to shove Bilfro away from him, "Bugger off you.  Thish ish twix' me an' the floozhy."  The shove is not altogether successful, since Bilfro has a firm grip on the man's tunic, which rips.

Eilieen and Erista use the diversion to move towards the door, and the comparative safety of one of the tavern's private rooms.

More puzzling yet, the old wizard seems now to be trying to tear the farmer's clothes off !

But suddenly the explanation dawns upon the priest.  Quite obviously Bilfro is so moved by the combination of the loss of Fergus and strong drink that he has mistaken the farmer for their poor dead friend.

A few strides brings Aarnr over to the epicentre of the altercation, whence he grabs Bilfro by his collar.  "Thou must forgive the ... him," the priest insists, "the death of Fergus has hit us all hard."  And normally he likes hitting things hard.  "Tomorrow we will ... bury our friend and thence seek out Rappan Athuk, that we might relieve our grief by slaying monsters."

Eilieen stares at Aarnr's outstretched hand for a long moment, studying it and the smile both with some confusion.  It's not a natural smile for Bowbe's priest, not fearsome; quite the opposite, in fact.  Almost a pained grin.  But he's awake, now, no longer in need of assistance, and she cannot waste the moment.  With a grateful glance at Bilfro and a nod of agreement for Arkan, she sweeps toward the door with Erista.

"Your Aunt Gatha...a wise woman.  I have a mind for privacy," Eilieen whispers, "and would share that privacy with you.  Best we get to it, before some horrible interruption."  More horrible, in any case; this one is rapidly reaching farcical dimensions.

Exit stage left, pursued by furies.

Aarnr grabs Bilfro, who still holds the torn strip of cheap tunic, the owner of which is suddenly red-faced with fury, "Oi!  Thazh my beshtesht tunic!  Cost me two shilversh it did.  You'll pay for that!"  And he raises his clenched hands, poised for fisticuffs.

Then he notices Aarnr, holding Bilfro back.  Or, more accurately, he notices the size of Aarnr, even through the red haze of his inebriation and rage.  And he steps back, completely separating the fragment of cloth from his best tunic.

His fists unclench, and he makes a placatory gesture, "Shorry frienzh, an' to the lady ash well, wherever she ish now."

Aarnr, it appears, has managed to stop a fight by acting as a peacemaker, against all the odds.

Colwyn scratches his head, perhaps wondering if his friend might be sick.

It is lucky indeed that the priest does not know that he has somehow prevented a fight that could easily, if t'were done properly, have escalated into the sort of all in brawl that would make a worthy send-off for their dear, departed friend and be great fun besides.  The irony is that playing peacemaker is exactly what Fergus would have done, were he here to do it.  Not that Aarnr knows what irony is either, though if pressed he'd assert it was probably something to do with metalworking.

Indeed, all that the brawny barbarian manages to gather from the farmer's drunken slurs is that he's apologising to Bilfro, and that he thinks that the wizard is a lady.  Must be the dress.  Very effeminate.  Bilfro should wear a proper skirt like him.  He will have to task Erista with he purchase of such a garment.  And a big axe in place of that stick he hauls about.  And maybe a horned helm.

Setting aside such thoughts for the nonce as the Halfling is nowhere to be seen, most likely having slipped beneath a table in her cups, and still and easily holding up the aforementioned overly-affectionate one (though at arms length, in case there's any more kissing attempts, as one large bearded ugly fellow probably looks very much like another), Aarnr looks to those of his companions still present for some clue as to the appropriate etiquette in the circumstances.

Arkan's body tensed when Aarnr moved towards Bilfro and the drunken farmer, expecting a brawl to break out in the commons. To his surprise, and that of the others no doubt, the big man defused the situation rather diplomatically. His action appeared to have surprised Aarnr himself, Arkan noted with some amusement

"It seems the spirit of Fergus watches over and guides us friend Aarnr." Arkan said to the musclebound priest. "A good sign...is it not?"

Or at least Arkan hoped that was considered a good sign. For all he knew about Aarnr's faith, the priest might consider that an omen that the spirit of Fergus was trapped in the mortal world, and needed some blood letting to ease it's passage into the afterlife!

Things seem to be calming down.  The barkeep raises her head above the counter, then stands up the whole way, believing that it's now safe to do so.  The farmers go back to toasting Fergus' memory, and the man who had almost found himself in serious trouble for the simple mistake of assuming that all Zadasthans are the same backs down and apologises to everybody.  Even a few people that hadn't been involved in the altercation.

Somebody yells, "It's my round!  For Fergus!" and the recent trouble is forgotten in a rush to get to the bar and take advantage of share in this generosity.

With a fresh pint of rich, dark ale in one hand, and a tankard of cheap wine in the other, Colwyn his mostly happy.  He joins in the cheering for Fergus, and the raucous singing, and the toasting, though he tries to avoid the back-slapping, just in case the person next to him, all unnoticed, happens to be Aarnr.

He isn't even worried about Bilfro now bearing the blade Valkyria - the wizard had said the sword called to him, whatever that meant, which could have been a sign that Freya wanted him to have it.  And if not, Bilfro would probably be dead by noon tomorrow and somebody that the Gods really meant to have the weapon would be carrying it.

All in all, everything (well, apart from Fergus' death) seems right with the world.

In the privare room, Eilieen and Erista discover that this tavern does not boast proper sleeping accommodations.  They are in a room, half as large as the public tap room, and obviously intended for use if somebody wanted to hold a meeting, an auction, or other private function.  Still, the sawdust is clean, just like in the tap room (at the start of the evening), and the closed door makes it quieter in here.

And there is enough room for about a dozen people to spread out bedrolls and sleep comfortably...

Ever literal, Aarnr scans the rafters above for any sign of Fergus's ghost, but is relieved to see no sign.

Indeed, the priest is blissfully unaware that he has accidentally stopped a fight, matter not that his dead grandmother would probably have approved ... besides which, it's drinking time again !   Making sure to gather a couple of large jugs for Bilfro, and another for himself, the priest settles the wizard in a quiet corner before joining in with the huzzahs.

Eilieen stares around herself for a long moment; her face shifts through a series of expressions, ending with disgust.  "This...this is our room?"  A tentative step brushes sawdust, and she clamps her hand over her nose.  The priestess' eyes slam shut and she sways as if struck.  "Better...better, even, to sleep outside.  In the dirt!" she wails, the outcry muffled by her palm.

Pragmatism wins.  Though she truly means it - possibly a surprise to those who know her - Eilieen has no desire to forsake the inn and begin a lengthily trek to a place where she can find rural dirt.  Thus, the priestess lays down her bedroll.

With one hand still covering her nose, it takes quite a bit of time.

"Well," Erista allows, "This is a room.  I think we just came in.  Did either of us actually talk to the barman?  Maybe Ozzy will.  Well.  Nobody else is using it right now, anyhow."  She shrugs, sliding down to sit just inside the doorway, listening.

"S'awfully quiet out there," she notes, after a few moments.

"So... have you..."  She looks at Eilieen, and then away, and then back.  "You noticed anything.. you know.. bit different, about Aarnr, today?"

Arkan sat down near to Aarnr and Colwyn after grabbing another cup of fresh wine, joining in the general merrymaking and trying his best to recall a ribald joke or two to tell, especially any concerning busty tavern wenches!

"They will put my friend in the ground, thou know,"  Aarnr is moved to inform Arkan lest the man be surprised on the morrow and try to stop them. "In the bare earth, where insects and worms may gnaw upon his corpse, and filthy unclean undead suck the marrow from his bones."

"But that is what Fergus wanted - that is the way of those who follow Freya."

"Fergus were a follower of Freya, an' a farmer." Colwyn says quietly, "I was askin' 'im one time, an' 'e were sayin' as 'ow 'is church teaches as if'n yer gets buried in the ground, then yer spends the rest of time 'elpin' the plants ter grow.  I dunno, maybe yer chases away the worms what's tryin' ter eat at the roots, or somethin'.  Any'ow, it's seemin' like the sort of thing a farmer, like Fergus, would want ter be doin'."

"Oh, an' the Goddess protects yer whether yer's 'live or dead."

He takes a swallow of his ale, before adding, "Asides which, there's worse ways ter be sent off.  I were 'earin' as 'ow there's one church where the priests's eatin' yer body after yer die, ter learn everythin' what yer knows.  An' the Yenomeshites is buryin' yer in the ground, 'ead down an' feet up, so if'n yer's comin' back as some sort of undead, then yer'll start to diggin' in the wrong direction, see?"

"Oh, an' the cult of Hel jus' drops its dead down wells, ter poison the water an' be makin' folk sick.  Nex' ter that, bein' a farmer an' 'elpin' the plants ter grow fer all time isn't soundin' so bad."

"Burnin' the bodies is best," Aarnr assures them both with certainty.  "Allows the spirit to escape and prevents corruption."

"Hangin' bodies from the tops of trees for them to be picked clean by birds is also acceptable, though few trees in the Vast grow tall enough."

"These Yenomeshites are most clever, though," he admits. "I believe that I might bury any priests of Hel in such a fashion.  If naught else, being head down would soon stifle their screams as the hole was filled ..."

"The innkeeper can come up and collect his fee should he desire...or request it after we leave," Eilieen huffs, with only the smallest trace of guilt.  The thought occurs to her that if they haven't paid, they could always leave...find a better inn...and our friends would not know.  More guilt, and she sets that idea well-out of reach.

"No violence," she agrees.  "And that might be what you meant, hmm?"  She eyes Erista sidelong, a small smile playing about her mouth.  "Aarnr seems, well, less Aarnr today.  More considerate.  A tad less hurried to leap to violence."  She weighs Today Aarnr against the past, comes up with a startling observation.  "More polite!"  The priestess purses her lips.

"Was that your meaning?"

Erista nods.  "He's even stopped himself swearing a few times," she points out.  "What do you suppose could do that?"

The evening progresses and, as the result of a dispute regarding whose turn it is to to give the giant some more ale, a punch is thrown suddenly and not all-together unexpectedly...

The barkeep's response is different this time, possibly because she knows both parties.  She quickly hurries out from behind the counter, armed with a sturdy cudgel, and raps them sharply on their heads before shoving them both towards the door.  The incident draws cheers and whistles from the customers who have not been assaulted and ejected.

Raising a fist in triumph, she makes her way back to her post and continues serving other customers...

In the back parlour, Eilieen and Erista find their conversation briefly interrupted by the sudden increase in the noise level from the main room.

Arkan raised an eyebrow as Aarnr explained the burial procedure. "Come my friend, it will not be so bad. There are no undead in hallowed grounds at the least. As for the worms and grubs well, in Old Raumathar we believe the earth provides for us as a mother, food, water and shelter. It is only right we should return the favor, at least in part when we die."

Raising his cup to the big man Arkan sipped with a smile, listening to Colwyn speak about other burial traditions. His eyes widened and he nearly choked on his drink as he did so. Eat the corpse?!? Poison wells!?

"Well, I respect other traditions, but I do have my limits. If I should fall in battle, I can but hope you shall not inter my body with such ghoulish priest," he said, brows creased with lines of concern.

Arkan privately admitted to himself though, burying corpses upside down in undead infested area's did not sound like a bad idea at all...
This message was last edited by the player at 19:21, Wed 30 Sept 2015.

The morbid discussion is mightily entertaining for the priest of Bowbe.  "How would ye prefer thy much-rended corpse be disposed of ?" he asks Arkan politely, and with interest, congratulating himself on such foresight.

Though it seems such prescience has failed him in terms of tavern etiquette.  Aarnr notes with much approval the thumping that the bartender bestows, and while he fails utterly to see that the same rules of order might apply to himself), he realises with some misgivings that he lacks a sturdy lump of wood of his own with which he could administer such clubbings if necessary.

Eilieen ponders this, nodding slowly.  It does seem Aarnr has done just that.  "Perhaps...sorrow over Fergus?  I would question him, but Aarnr's mind, I suspect, does not speak to itself.  He may not even know the reason himself," she muses.

"I shall observe him more closely in the future.  For now, I think sleep might be best."

"Started before that," Erista notes.  "This morning.  S'okay.  I'm sure it's fine.  Goodnight."