Arkan nodded as Eileen introduced him along with the others.

"Easy there good sir." He said as the man hobbled over and sat at their table. "Took an arrow to the knee did you, in your adventuring days?" Arkan made some small talk as he evaluated their guest, wondering what he wanted from them.

"Whatever it was, I concur with lady Eileen, a shame there was no skilled healer present to bind your wound with spells and ensure sinew and bone knit properly."

The warrior-mage also racked his mind, trying to recall any lore he might have heard regarding the Justicar Order of Muir.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:25, Thu 26 Mar 2015.

In reply to Erista (msg # 183):

To Erista's question he can only shrug.

Aarnr shrugs too.  Just in case that's what polite hedge-pigs people do.

"Thou fought monsters ?" the priest asks Sir Greybeard encouragingly.  Getting shot with either bolt or arrow takes no great skill, but perhaps the wound was earned in honest battle with some slavering beast.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:53, Fri 27 Mar 2015.

Sir Galdean chuckles at Arkan's question, "An arrow to the knee?  Good gracious, no.  That would be so cliché.  I swear, every play I have seen in the past year has had some bold adventurer shot in the knee.  It's not as if a knee is the biggest target."

He shakes his head, and then glances at Aarnr, "This strapping gentleman has the right of it... I was bitten by a dragon, albeit a small one, a youngster I dare say.  The bite crushed my greave, though made of steel and enchanted to boot, and snapped the bones in my shin.  None of my companions were healers, and I lacked the skill to mend the injury myself.  By the time we made it to a temple, where I could receive a blessing, the wound was rife with gangrene.  And so my adventuring days were over, and... "  He stops, suddenly doubling over in a prolonged paroxysm of coughing.

When the coughing stops, he takes a sip of mead before continuing, "Forgive me, please.  Far too much of my youth was spent in dank caverns, chill catacombs, and dismal swamps, and my lungs are not what they were.  Which brings me to the reason I came here, as soon as I heard from a friend that you were here.  I want to ask you, all of you, a favour, if you will hear me out?"

Ozzy is still a little fuzzy-headed, having just woke up. Gnawing on a thick slice of bacon, he asks, " Sure, sure. What's the flavor? Need the name of a good cobbler to build a lift for your heel and stop that limp?"

Aarnr forgives the mysterious klee-shay and gan-green, and was unaware till now that grief came in enchanted steel (though he could well see how the latter could cause the former, depending upon which end of the blade one was at), for here is a man who, like himself, has faced a dragon, albeit a small one, and survived to tell the tale !  Though Sir Greybeard was not so lucky as himself and his friends to have Bowbe's aid in their battle ...

And that is enough, more than enough, for the priest to hear him out.  "Speak on, thou dotar ... thou putt ... speak on !"  Aarnr enjoins him, clouting his blood brother around the ear in a good-natured fashion and raising his cup in salutation.

"Very well... " Galdean responds, his good blue eye seeking the faces of the others around the table, each in turn, as he asks his favour.

"I am not a young man, and I am ill and crippled.  But I was once a noble warrior, serving Muir bravely on the field of battle, as I put the foes of right and justice to the sword and, thereby, did the bidding of my god."

"Now, I fear, I am dying - age and infirmity have taken their toll on my body, and my remaining time is short.  But I would not die abed, my friends - if I may refer to you in such a familiar manner?  I would die in honest battle, against the enemies of all good and right-minded folk."

A sigh then, and more coughing, "But I am not strong enough to do it alone.  I seek boon companions who will assist me in my final quest, and ensure that, when I die, I die with honour.  I have heard of a place, just a short distance from here, so I should be able to make the journey - at least in one direction - and fall surrounded by slain enemies."

Erista blushes when Eilieen catches her name, and says back quietly, "Just.. well, nothing."  She looks back at Ozzy and shrugs.  This in general seems to have her attention more than the old man, but she offers polite attention to his tale.  "Well, that's swee... wait, us?"  She looks around the table, and then back to the man, blinking.

"Um, just what is this final quest?"

Even as far back as the old kingdom of Raumathar they had heard about the nobility of the Justicars, and thus Arkan looked at the man with new found respect and when he finished talking, not a little bit of understanding.

"You wish to die in battle then, rather than meet your end feebly upon your bed" He stated softly. It was a tradition among some in many lands, for old warriors, woodsmen, and even some wizards, to want to face their end in battle rather than slip quietly into the beyond.

Even though he understood the old man's desire, Arkan had already made a compact with the others to join them in their quest. He would wait to hear their decision and join them whereever they decided to go next.

Aarnr politely holds his tongue, giving his friends the opportunity to enthusiastically embrace Sir Greybeard's proposal.  The first responses are not encouraging, however and the priest turns his fearsome smile upon Erista and Arkan in turn, not quite completely failing to disguise his disbelief at their rather lukewarm response to the quite reasonable "die-surrounded-by-the-bodies-of-the-fallen" proposal.

Eilieen stares suspiciously at Erista, then lets it go.  After all, they get along well, don't they?  It's not like Erista would be saying anything horrible behind her back, would it?

This isn't the Temple*, after all.

Galdean's story brings varying degrees of sorrow and horror from the Zadasthan.  By the time it comes to its end, she's half-expecting the entreaty.  Slowly, the priestess nods.  "Would that I could do something for your illness," she begins, hoping not to offend.  "Rather would I see a man end his life surrounded by those who love him, rather than his enemies."

The priestess straightens her back.  "But if this is your wish, then I would be a poor servant of all that is good to not grant it.  It may not be my way, but there is honor in such a path; and as for our ends, none but ourselves may say how we choose to meet them.  I would assist you in this, Sir Galdean, if it truly be your purpose."

* For those who have been following, yes, the Temple does somewhat resemble High School.  And Eilieen would have been the local nerd.  ^_^

Aarnr beams.  Obviously he's been a good influence on Eilieen - indeed, Bowbe would be proud of her.  Or at least her actions, if not the sentiment behind them.  With but a little more coaching she could be definite horde material.

The priest nods vigorously, adding his own agreement to that of the priestess.

"By the gods, yes !  A fro ... very worthy end !  We shall see it done !"

Important question first, in order to avoid an unpleasant situation that is not only bound to come up, but is in fact the whole purpose behind this expedition.

"How would thee like thy mortal remains disposed of ?" he asks Sir Greybeard.  Politely.  And with a certain smugness for having shown such thoughtfulness and foresight.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:21, Thu 02 Apr 2015.

Galdean nods his head, smiling, "Your concerns are all valid, and I shall do my best to address them."

"The nature of the quest is simple.  There have been, for several weeks now, rumours of... something... living in the woods to the south of the city.  Several expeditions have ventured out to deal with it, but none have succeeded in locating the creature.  From the rumours, I have deduced that the thing is an ogre.  Furthermore, from my knowledge of the area, gained when I was younger, and a keen hunter, I have a good idea where it's lair may be."

Next he turns to Eilieen.  "Yes, it is my wish.  Dying an honourable death, in combat, means that I would sit at Muir's right hand in the afterlife, and continue to serve her in her battles against demons and the accursed undead.  I would continue to defend this city, my friends, and my family against the things which would destroy them."

Then, "Ah yes, a good question, my wise friend.  If I am to die, then of course there will be a body, or at least a few pieces of one, or some possessions... "  Galdean considers for a moment before continuing, "These things must be returned to the Temple of Muir, here, in the city, for a proper funeral according to the scriptures of my faith.  Anything gained on the quest, anything that is not in my possession when I leave the city with you, is yours to do with as you will.  This is all the recompense I can offer for your assistance."

Ozzy smacks Aarnr on his shoulder, " What say brother? Ready to roust a paddock pounding bloat butted Ogre?" he asks, adding the spice of profanity that the big man seems to have lost the words for. " I'd like a chance to spend off some of this coin before we go though." he adds, kicking the sack of gold at his feet. " Too heavy."

"Froggin' sheep-bitin' sh ... that is to say, Aye brother !  That I am !"  Aarnr smiles even more spectacularly than before.

"A servant of Muir," the priest nods his approval at Sir Greybeard. "A warrior's goddess," his gaze automatically falls upon Fergus, but he tries not to look too reproachful. "I share thy distaste for the lifeless ones."  Very carefully worded, as none of that is easy to say without diverse and colourful oaths for accompaniment.

And an Ogre to kill besides !  Hopefully a big one.  Perhaps its skull would make a fine helm ?

Colwyn sits, quietly considering the situation.  More danger, and for little profit by the sound of it.  Still it doesn't sound too arduous a journey, and the monster seems quite close.  They've faced ogres before, and there'll be an extra warrior with them - one who has the backing of a fighting god.

"The only thing I must ask of you all," Sir Galdean states carefully, "is that when we meet the vile thing, I must face it alone at first, to fulfil my death wish.  Once I fall, you are free to have at the creature to your heart's content."

Bloody Hells! Colwyn thinks, grinning.  Better and better.  The old gaffer's softenin' it up a bit, then we's finishin' it off.  By "we" of course, he mostly means "everybody but me".

"I concur with my companions Sir Galdean. If this is your wish, I will aid you in fulfilling it to the best of my ability." Arkan said solemnly to the old Justicar.

Ogres were known to be ferocious, and Arkan had never faced one before. But he was confident that together they would be able to overcome any obstacle. Indeed, perhaps Sir Galdean would deal it a killing blow before falling himself.

"Well then, since we are all friends, and an accord has been reached, it only remains to drink a toast to our noble victory.  Well, your noble victory, and my noble demise."

"Innkeeper!  More drinks here, the finest you have, for today we raise our cups to toast the valorous death of a Justicar of Muir!"

When the drinks arrive at the table, Galdean pushes himself, unsteadily, to his feet (though his wavering is, in all fairness, probably more due to an injured leg than to a surfeit of alcohol).  He raises his cup, and roars a toast, all semblance of his former cultured manner fled in terror before his words...

"Good health, my allies, at least until death claims us!  To glorious victory!  And may the names of our fallen live forever in the hearts of their brethren, and strike fear into the breasts of our enemies!"

Aarnr leaps to his feet, roaring loudly and politely, raising his cup high to join in the toast.  The barbarian priest liked this just-ticker when first he cast eyes upon him, and the man's zeal to die in battle and soon has only firmed that fine opinion.

Indeed it would be a shame if by some mischance Sir Greybeard bested the Ogre and somehow managed not to die ...

Eilieen nods agreement to the terms.  They're acceptable to her.  But her toast - lost in the outcry - is only "To health."

This saddens her.

True, it is the man's choice.  Also true, it is the path he has followed his life through.  But then...it is a sorrowful thing that he has no family with which to spend his last days, no grandchildren upon which to dote.  If only there were a way...but there isn't.

"Well!" she states when the roaring has finished.  "Oswald has purchases to make.  Perhaps he can have some company - some large, dangerous company - to avoid issues similar to what we had yesterday, he and I?"  A shrug follows.  "Though it has helped somewhat with local crime, I do admit."

Large, dangerous company.  Aarnr hates shopping, but has promised his grandmother ...

"I shall accompany thee, blood-brother !" he informs the halfling, more or less spontaneously.  Less.  "Those festering rat-skinned varl ... fellows who ... accosted thee were shopkeepers ?  They shall not trouble thee this day !"

Ozzy chuckles at his brothers concern about the shopkeepers of the city. " Nah, weren't no shopkeep, those crooks I can handle. There were three muggers waitin' for us when we left the shop though. If we see them again, I'll be sure to introduce you!" he tells the big barbarian as he collects his gold and heads for the door.

Arkan rises with the bold Justicar and raises his cup in a gesture of salute. "To victory! To fallen enemies! And everlasting glory!" he cried, his voice rising in timber with each intonation.

"I have naught to purchase, but I am ready to go with you if you have need of me." Arkan told the others as they made their last minute shopping plans.

"So the shopkeeps rob thee before thou leave ..." as he exeunts with his blood-brother, it is clear that Aarnr is gaining a firm grasp on the bloody and cut-throat world of commerce.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:37, Sat 11 Apr 2015.

Colwyn barely manages to stifle a laugh at Aarnr's misconception of the finer points of trade and commerce.  but he has a question of his own for the knight of Muir.  "So, when's yer plannin' ter be movin' out then?  Is we 'avin' time ter be gettin' fixed up with a bit of grub, some spare gear, an' the likes.  Or was yer thinkin' of goin' now, so as ter be makin' the most of the day?"

Sir Galdean considers for a moment, then, "Ah... well, I had assumed that you would have sufficient equipment for the task at hand.  Did you not, after all, slay a dragon, or its ilk, on the road?  And that we could obtain some supplies from our friend the innkeeper.  I was hoping we could set out after breakfast, with a brief detour to collect my accoutrements, and then straight out into the forest to beard the vile creature in its lair.  After all, I am in no hurry, but speed may be of the essence to your good selves, if you have a further destination to make for afterward."

"If, however, you have business here in town that requires your attention first... well, then, I suppose I must wait for that."