AtG Howling Crag (5e PBP) IC

[FitzTheRuke]

Against the Giants: Warrens of the Stone Giant Thane
A 5e PBP and Sequel to Against the Giants: Steading of the Hill Giant Chief (Group Two)

OOC Discussion Thread
RG Character Thread

Captain Caine
~2pm on Waterday, 24 Patchwall, 576cy.

Captain Caine shuffled the papers on his desk and sighed. He was a man of action, and the administrative duties of running a castle had already started to bore him. He had expected to be better rewarded after his Victory at the Hill Giant Steading, but the loss of lives had sullied it in the eyes of the King, and Lord Faldur's ward, Donnell, had reaped the reward.

In Caine's mind, the one consolation was that the old knight was no longer his immediate superior. Lord Faldur had retired, returning to his estate on the Keoland Coast, hoping that the sea air would settle his humors. Caine had little respect for Faldur, who was far too cautious and sentimental for the younger man's bold tactical ideals. But this left him with the task of managing their new appointment - Greyfalls Castle, from which the King expected his new favorites to achieve Great Things.

Caine was skeptical. These "new favorites" were the newly knighted Sir Donnell, and a handful of strange (if powerful) Adventurers. The trouble they faced was a growing threat from the Crystalmist Mountains. Giants were on the move, raiding across the hills and vales and sacking towns and villages. Caine picked up the most recent report and saw that Stone Giants were among the invaders.

This puzzled him. For the Adventurers had, ostensibly, made peace with those giants at the Steading. In the six weeks since, something had gone horribly wrong. It was time for the Adventurers to take up the Stone Giant Emissary's invitation to speak to his Thane. Time for them to re-earn the King's favor. Caine would not have admitted it aloud, but inwardly, he hoped that they would fail, and he would have a chance to face the stone giants himself.

He called to the guard at the door, Caddick! Ask Sir Donnell if he will gather his company and meet me in the great hall at his earliest convenience."

 

[Kobold Stew]

The Colonel had been posted to many plac es ove rthe years, not all of them even on this plane. He had been in service long enough that any cot with his trunk at the end was sufficient to call home. He had renewed his appointments, and grown as a soldier, not always with comfortable allies, but always knowing his place.

And also knowing, that his place wasn't his.

That had now changed. He had quarters in a castle (much more opulent than he was used to), and a sense that he might grow something that was truly his. Reform the old unit? No, not that. But he did believe that the orcs they had liberated needed a palce where they could serve and be useful, and if that was something he could provide, it would discharge a double obligation -- to them (he had not been charitable, after all)_, but also to the environs, for which he now felt a responsibility.

He himself had also changed. His faith, true as ever, had been reconsidered. He no longer saw himself as a Servant of the Storm. he had learned, through prayer and careful study, but also on reflection of the events with the giants so far, that he was not their servant.

That, too, had now changed. The lightning was his -- by whatever means, it was his to command, and though his faith was sure (it would always be there), what once he had requested, now he felt he could demand.

His companions saw him seldom, though he had attended Donnell's ceremony, and served as his shieldbearer, reversing the role that the lad had once played for him. The Colonel had thought about retiring, too, but the recognition that the problem with the ginats persisted spurred him to action. Would he ever retire?

OOC: Bastion actions: Barracks: recruit. Arcane Study: craft Amulet of Health. Teleportation circle: recruit spellcaster Training Ground: Skillls expert: Athletics. Empower Trianing. [any one recruited, and any of the part can gain proficiency in Athletics.)

 

[TaranTheWanderer]

Spoiler: Donnell - Mini-sheet

Donnel Race: Human HP: 86/86 AC: 18/20(with shield)	Pass Perc:15 Pass Inv: 14 Pass Ins: 15 Initiative: +3	Spell Save DC: 15/+7 Spell Slots: 1st[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] 2nd [] []
Channel Divinity: 2/2	Lay on Hands: 30	Echthigern: HP: 35/35
Spoiler: Stats(saves) STR: 13+1(+4) DEX: 16+3(+10) CON: 14+2(+5) INT: 10+0(+7) WIS: 12+1(+4) CHA:16 +3(+6) *saves include aura	Spoiler: Skills Athletics+5 History: 4 Insight: 5 Intimidate: 7 Investigate: 4 Perception: 5 Persuasion 11 Religion: 4 Stealth: 11 Survival: 5	Spoiler: Spells Daily: Divine Smite 1/1 Find Steed: 1/1 Memorized spells 1st : Shield of Faith*, Prot. frm Evil* Cure wounds, Bless, Divine Favor, Divine Smite Heroism 2nd: Aid*, Zone of Truth*, Protection from Poison, Shining Smite

---

"I didn't know this was even possible!"

Donnell was standing in the armoury of Greyfalls castle in front of four sets of newly crafted armour and surrounded by a variety of weapons and shields. The armoury was located in the basement of the ancient castle, just down the hall from the smithy and, despite its underground location, it was dry and clean. Just how the original dwarven builders had designed it.

"Well, Donnell, did you expect anything less? You asked me to make you armour and weapons and here they be."

"I just didn't think you could do it all in a week, Harmok. Amazing."

The Dwarf looked much healthier and...stouter...than when they'd rescued him from a giantish torture chamber. He was middle aged with brown hair and beard. He seemed have an endless font of energy that drove his ability to work. The craftsmanship was beyond what the smiths could produce in Donnell's small town.

"Well, I had help from yer cous, here." He points to a slightly younger version of Donnell who was busying himself polishing a shield, "Cole's pickin' up the trade so fast I'd almost call him a dwarf. A dwarf who keeps misplacing all his tools." he teased. "Anyways, I don't want to keep yeh too long, you're been busy keepin' this place runnin' smooth!"

"Well, keeping things running smooth is Cain's job, mostly." Answered Donnell, honestly.

It all felt a little surreal for Donnell. Things had changed a lot for the Scout-turned-Squire. After their victory against the giants, he'd been presented to the King by Lord Faldur, sponsored for Knighthood and, consequently, caught in a whirlwind. He'd been pulled into a different world of Knights, secret customs and military techniques known only to the King's Knightly Order. There were responsibilities, titles, lands and deeds. Notably, he'd earned a Steed bred from the King's own Celestial Stallion(rumoured to be a gift from an actual angel). All of this sat uncomfortably on a young man who'd grown up as a simple scout. While he'd navigated many problems between competing sheep farmers, he hardly felt ready to lead. He was even more ill-prepared for the subtle and complex world of politics which he felt had gotten him into this position in the first place.

Cain had also been sponsored for Knighthood but had been denied the title. When it was announced, Cain had hidden his disappointment well but the man had betrayed an emotion that Donnell couldn't quite put his finger on. Donnell knew someone had sponsored Cain but, Donnell suspected that, whoever it was, had lost an important game to Lord Faldur. At that moment, standing there next to Cain, in front of the King , Donnell felt very much like a chess piece.

"Bah, don't don't be like that. Cain, sure enough, keeps order from his office but yer the man people will look teh when things need gettin' done. By the way, I have somthin' for yeh. A gift 'cause I never really got to thank yeh proper for saving me."

He motioned to a table that had a blanket covering a large object. Harmok pulled the blanket like he was a dwarven magician but, instead of revealing his assistant, Cole, sawed in half, the dwarf revealed a simple set of barding and the most beautiful riding saddle Donnell had ever seen.

"A Princely Steed needs a Princely saddle. Especially if yer going to compete at the festival."

Donnell stood without saying anything, mouth agape. Really, he didn't deserve this kind of gratitude. He had merely been helper to the real engineers of Harmok's freedom - practically a bystander to their heroics. Donnell had simply been the one who opened the door to Harmok's prison.

Before Donnell could form words of gratitude, there was a knock on the door.

"Sir, Captain Cain wants you to gather your team."

OOC: Bastion actions: Armoury (Trade Action): suits of armour and equipment for 6 soldiers (300gp) Smithy (Craft Action): Saddle of the Cavalier (might not get used but it's super cool) Stable: (nothing now. It has 1 riding horse, 1 pony and 1 mule (and Donnell's Horse) Theatre: (Empower) It takes 14 days of prep to do anything and a week of performance. I'd say that we are preparing or have prepped for a Festival/jousting tournament if we ever get 7 days to hang out here.)

 

[Tonguez]

Making his way up from the castle kitchens, Kahru Karavetra strode into the great hall with a slow, deliberate gait, the faint smell of pine, earth and fresh killed venison clinging to his leathers. Slung over his shoulder was a hunting bow and in the opposite hand he gripped the living Staff of the Woodlands that marked him a gudja. His hair, wild and untamed, framed a face that bore the calm intensity of someone who preferred the mountain's silence to the clamour of men.

Nonetheless the Barbarian-Druid had remained, despite the pull of the wild and the whispers of Waythe urging him toward more bloody adventure. The Victory celebrations had been grand and Kahru had felt a spark of elan when the companions had been acknowledged, and young Donnell had been risen to Knighthood. The old soldier was curious to see what measure of a man Donnell would prove to be now that he was responsible for his own castle, lands, villagers and a beautiful celestial horse. The free flow of Dwarven ale had also helped that night.

But Kahru was not one to be confined to the luxuries of a castle keep, so he spent much of his time wandering the mountain foothills or visiting the simple folk in the village. The morning hunt had become a ritual, a way for the Druid to commune with the cycle of nature as he sought the telltale marks and movement of deer in the underbrush. In the evenings he would rest in the Sanctuary of the She-Bear, a haven where he could focus and breath in the primal forces of nature. In return meat would be left respectfully near the She-Bear's den, a gesture of kinship that she acknowledged with a solemn stare.

The crop of young goodberry shrubs planted along the stream had also begun to take root, their delicate leaves glistening with morning dew and the druidic blessings whispered into the soil. Some of the villagers had already found the crop, a boon to the hunters and herb gatherers.

And the castle atrium also featured its own herb garden, a touch of living nature here within the walls where he could rest in the shade of an oak, experiment in his newly built greenhouse and share secrets with the half-orc kitchen maid who had become a regular companion amongst the herbs and sweet flowers. He’d much rather be there now.

Of course, there was also his duty to the Skyejotunen prince sworn on the great sword Waythe’s enchanted blade. Lord Thyffon had charged him to uncover what outside influence had stirred up the giants and lead to Nosra’s fall. Kahru had found nothing pointing to a conspiracy yet and wondered if it would be worth returning to scour the rooms of the Steading again – though no doubt Caine or the Kings Men had already taken anything of value that remained and that could be secured. Perhaps rumours and speculation at the upcoming tournament would provide better information?

Seeing that the Colonel and Sir Donnell had already arrived, Kahru approached and greeted them, placing his bow upon a table before turning to Caine.

"You look like a caged wolf" Kahru stated glancing at the stewards desk with its pile of reports. "The desk does not suit you.

You should come hunting with me" he continued sincerely “the crisp air of the mountains will lift your spirit, and you can patrol as we track down a stag or a boar for the day. My hunts feed the land and the people.

Two lads of the village have joined me as hunters too, I left them with the cook to help break down a couple of fresh carcasses. Good lads, we could do with recruiting a couple more, a steady supply of meat for both the village and the castle kitchens

Anyway" the Northman shifted his weight forward and locked his gaze on Caine "If you're calling us together, it must be something worth leaving the forest for, so what's got you looking at those reports like they want to betray you?"

OOC: Bastion Orders: 1 Storehouse: Hunters spend the next 7 days procuring meat (Venison, Wild Boar etc) 2 Sanctuary: Sanctuary Charm: Healing Word (After spending a Long Rest in the Sanctuary) 3 Trophy Room: Research Lore of the Giants Alliance (3 accurate pieces of previously unknown information) 4 Green House - Harvest: Healing Herbs (Potion of Greater Healing) * Storehouse involves paying village-based hunters to bring in wild game

 

[Snarf Zagyg]

Doc wasn't used to all the fussin' that doin' his job seemed to provoke here, but he was even more taken aback by the thought that this new posse he had found might actually have his back...and not just to stick a blade into it. As uncomfortable as bein' honored made him, Doc was even more discomfited by the unnatural and vexatious way he felt a certain ... fondness for his compadres. Don't much cotton to these feelings like a burr in the boot. Reckon I'll counter 'em with my other emotions, like gamblin' and drunk.

After dealin' with a bare number of pleasantries and honorifics and a quick reconnoiterin' of the Keep they's been gifted, Doc found himself moseyin' on down to the village of Doyle's Tor. Worlds may change, but likker is the same. Figurin' this Tor steading has a saloon and likker won't drink itself.

Spotting the tell-tale signs of a waterin' hole, Doc walked in and sidled up to the bar and ordered hisself the strongest of whatever they got. After a few rounds, or maybe sum more, of gettin' hisself likkered up, Doc noticed that a bit more than a few hours had passed and he was the only one drinkin'- so he then made the smallest of talk with the saloonkeeper, Pykus Foll. Pykus learned Doc that some locals had holed up in the neighborin' areas, makin' life uncomfortable for the good people of Tor and extractin' themselves a bit of coin for that bothersome privilege, and the good people didn't have the coin no more for their own drink. Pykus continued, sayin' that the blackhats were also keepin' people from comin' to Tor, and Pykus would have to close up the saloon for good in a few days as he couldn't keep it open with no one to drink and havin' to pay for the privilege of keepin' it open.

Finally, seeming to gather his gumption from somewhere, Pykus spoke his mind. I heard about the brave adventurers that Lord Faldur employed to end the menace of the Giants. Some people have said that one of them was a stranger to these lands. And I do not mean to offend you, good sir, nor do I mean to impose my minor problems upon you, but your clothes and demeanor mark you as a person that is far from home. If you ... know ... those brave adventurers, good sir, please relay to them that should they rid our humble village of the evil that has befallen us, I will pledge my service and what little a humble innkeeper can offer as recompense.

Doc stared at the bar for a while, not acknowledging the words of Pykus. Finally, Doc drank another shot of likker and drew his gaze up to stare straight at Pykus. Doc's steely blue eyes had flames of anger within them.
You tellin' me that these blackhats are goin' to close the only saloon in town that I can get my drink on? I think the Sheriff won't abide that kind of lawlessness, no... sir.... eeeeeee. Throw me a bottle, and I'll make sure the likker keeps flowin' and a personal invitation is extended to them blackhats to meet the Sheriff.

When Pykus gave Doc a bottle of likker, Doc walked out the door takin' pulls on it.

(A day later)

Doc walked back into the saloon. Pykus noticed some small blood splatters on Doc's clothing. Doc said nothing, but sat down and tapped his fingers for a drink. Pykus poured a double, which Doc downed immediately, tapping his fingers again. This repeated, in silence, for an hour. Then, one of the villagers ran in to the Inn, and shouted at Pykus- We are free! Landro just found them. All of them!

Pykus stared at him uncomprehendingly. What was he saying? The villager continued .... Landro was out gathering firewood. And he said that he found them. All of them. All of the bandits! They were all dead. All of them. Pykus was still having trouble with this... there were, what, one or two score of the bandits? All of them? And then Pykus began to put the pieces together, as more villagers rushed into his inn to celebrate.

He looked down at Doc and the bloodspatters. Good sir, it would seem that you have truly saved all of Doyle's Tor. How can we thank you?

Doc didn't look up from under his hat, but kept drinking. I'm not good, and I'm not sir. You can call me Doc. All I did was make sure they's got what was comin' to 'em, and they did. They's with the Sheriff now, and there ain't no place worse than that. And you thank me by keepin' the likker flowin' and findin' me some smokes.

Doc reached into his poncho, and pulled out a heavy sack. It was filled with coin and some gems. Found this with the blackhats. Reckon it's what they took from you and your kin. Figurin' they's need it to buy drinks.

As more villagers came in, Pykus shouted out to them, Here he is! The noble adventurer of Lord Faldur, Sir Doc from the Faraway, who vanquished the evil that had befallen us! And noble Sir Doc has not just saved us from these calamitous circumstances, but brought us back all that was taken by those ruffians! He has only asked that we drink with him. Huzzah!

The next few hours were what Doc hated- people, children even, thanking him. He just wanted to drink and smoke. At some point, Pykus told him that for all he had done, the saloon was his as well. Doc reluctantly agreed, so long as Pykus took his fair share for stayin' on and keepin' Doc's likker flowin'. Over the next few days, Doc found that a lot of the young 'uns in the Tor looked up to him as the law, so he hesitantly began to show 'em some of the skills he had to keep the peace so that they wouldn't be defenseless if he wasn't around- but he made sure they knew the prime lesson. Folks are all different, and y'all let 'em be. If'n they's causin' problems, ya talk to 'em and get 'em to stop. And if they's the type that won't listen to reason and won't mosey on out of the Tor, then's ya gotta invite 'em to meet the Sheriff. There ain't no in-between, either. Ya let 'em be, or make it end. End prejudicial like.

Other than a brief trip to see Sir Donnell's elevation to knighthood, during which Doc felt a pang of something akin to pride, Doc otherwise spent his time in the Tor. He didn't need sleep, so he was a regular at the saloon. Of course, Doc began to play cards, drawing others into the game, and it wasn't long before the saloon also was a regular gambling hall, attracting bored villagers and travelers to lose a little money. Doc played the games straight, mostly, except for those few occasions when some fancy mountebank would attempt to cheat the good people of Tor. The cheaters always regretted playing four aces when Doc had a straight flush.

Doc was feelin', if not good, then at least not as melancholy as a lonesome doggie, drinkin' and smokin' and gamblin' in the Tor when one night Doc felt the pull of something he knew all too well. The Sheriff had orders. Doc roused hisself from the drink and the game and walked back to the castle, but the call was coming from an area outside of the castle. Doc found hisself in a graveyard with a small chapel, and he felt pulled into the chapel. Once he was in there, Doc felt this powerful force that pushed him to his knees, and a voice rang out.

HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN YOURSELF, DOC SENTENZA? DO YOU REMEMBER YOUR PURPOSE? WHO DO YOU SERVE?

Doc could only whisper against the force pushing on him ... you .... i only serve you, sheriff.

I AM THE SHERIFF. YOU SHALL HAVE NO OTHERS BEFORE ME, DOC SENTENZA. AND AS YOU ARE MY INSTRUMENT, IN THIS WORLD, AND ALL WORLDS, KNOW THIS- IN ALL THINGS YOU SERVE ME. I HAVE BEEN PLEASED WITH YOUR HARVESTS, AND FOR THIS, YOU SHALL BE MY DEPUTY. BUT YOU ARE MINE, NOW AND FOREVER, AND THIS PLACE SHALL BIND YOU TO ME SO YOU SHALL NOT FORGET YOURSELF AND YOUR PLACE.

With that final pronouncement, the booming voice stopped, but Doc's body was wracked with pain as the Sheriff filled his vessel with the Sheriff's authority. Doc could feel the Sheriff imbuing him with new abilities as his deputy, but the transmogrification felt like Doc was dying again, a hundred times over. As this was happening, the chapel itself changed, becoming darker and marked with the symbols of the Sheriff and an altar to send souls to the Mesa of Madness. Outside, a thick fog sprung up, and the graveyard's flora became twisted and venomous. When Doc recovered from the pain to survey his surroundings, he saw two people that weren't there previously.

Howdy Wyatt. Howdy Jesse. Reckon the Sheriff released y'all for good behavior?

They all stared at each other for a few seconds, then started laughing.

(The next week)
Doc was at the saloon, deep in his cups, when he looked up with gimlet eyes and saw someone from the keep enter. The messenger approached and told Doc he was needed at the keep. Doc figured that would cut into his drinkin' time, and politely declined the invitation with a courtly response of Go eff yourself.

The messenger appeared to have been ready for this response. I was told to tell you that Sir Donnell has requested the presence of all the adventurers, for there is a new threat.

Pykus sidled up to Doc and whispered to him, Sir Doc! You cannot refuse this request. We will be fine, and I will keep the saloon and cards going, and I am sure that your lads will keep the peace. Go where you are needed.

Doc inwardly grimaced. He felt like Tor's cat; the more he rejected their love, the more the villagers wanted to pet him. Maybe a little time would let 'em realize that the servants of the Sheriff weren't the tumbleweeds you wanted in your town. Doc grabbed some likker and smokes for the road, and went to the keep where he saw that Donnell, Hoss, and Kahru were there waiting. Lookin' at 'em, Doc grinned and laconically stated ...

So. Who needs a-killin' this time?

OOC: Sorry for the delay. If you saw my other post in the Pineapple Express, you know why. Cliff notes because that's a long post (and it could have been longer)- 1. Doc is spending most of his time in Doyle's Tor (which he call the Tor). 2. There's a little backstory to how he got the inn and gambling hall. 3. I added a bit for the chapel/graveyard, that also explains the 5e24 conversion. 4. Hirelings of note- Pykus Foll- Bartender. gaming Jesse- Graveyard Wyatt- Chapel Bastion Orders

OOC: 1. Gaming Hall. Trade (makes money). Gaming Hall: 98 Wasn't sure if I roll or average, and it doesn't make much of a difference anyway- Winnings: 31 x 10 310 gold pieces. (Would be 350gp average, but that's with the 98). 2. Bar. Information gathering. Anything about giant attacks, specifically the stone giant we made deal with. 3. Graveyard. Harvest. One vial of Burnt Othur Fumes. 4. Chapel. Whispers of the Mesa. Beseech sheriff for three pieces of accurate knowledge about the attacks that were previously unknown to Doc and that serves the Sheriff's interests.

 

[FitzTheRuke]

When everyone was assembled in Greyfalls Castle's great room, where staff had laid out a table of bread, cheese, and wine, Captain Caine greeted them and began to go over the highlights of his reports:

"It seems, gentlemen, that your 'friends', the Stone Giants, have not held to your negotiations for peace. I have reports of them joining - perhaps even leading - small bands of giants that have raided Timulton, Shetsbury, and Lambscote." he started, enjoying the suggestion that they'd not done quite as well as everyone believed.

"As the repairs to the castle are almost complete, perhaps now is the time to settle your invitation to an audience with Thane Arnak at Howling Crag. Perhaps your powers of 'diplomacy' will again shower you with accolades." he continued.

Suddenly realizing that his last sentence was far too dripping with jealousy, and he quickly ate some cheese and drank some wine while hoping that the group would let it slip past them.

 

[TaranTheWanderer]

Spoiler: Donnell - Mini-sheet

Donnel Race: Human HP: 86/86 AC: 18/20(with shield)	Pass Perc:15 Pass Inv: 14 Pass Ins: 15 Initiative: +3	Spell Save DC: 15/+7 Spell Slots: 1st[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] 2nd [] []
Channel Divinity: 2/2	Lay on Hands: 30	Echthigern: HP: 25/25
Spoiler: Stats(saves) STR: 13+1(+4) DEX: 16+3(+10) CON: 14+2(+5) INT: 10+0(+7) WIS: 12+1(+4) CHA:16 +3(+6) *saves include aura	Spoiler: Skills Athletics+5 History: 4 Insight: 5 Intimidate: 7 Investigate: 4 Perception: 5 Persuasion 11 Religion: 4 Stealth: 11 Survival: 5	Spoiler: Spells Daily: Divine Smite 1/1 Find Steed: 1/1 Memorized spells 1st : Shield of Faith*, Prot. frm Evil* Cure wounds, Bless, Divine Favor, Divine Smite Heroism 2nd: Aid*, Zone of Truth*, Protection from Poison, Shining Smite

---

Standing in the office, Donnell looked somewhat troubled by the news. It was crowded in the room as he bent over to look at the small map on the table, trying to see if there was a central point from which the giants could launch to attack those three particular towns.*

In response to Cain,

"I wouldn't make any assumptions about the giants holding up their end of the bargain. If giants are anything like humans, they probably aren't perfectly united. There might be pockets of resistance railing against the suggestion that they should leave us alone. It might be a case of needing to convince - or help - Thane Arnak to rein in the trouble-makers.

"I'd like to find out more about those attacks to get more information before we meet with the Thane. Maybe we can stop on our way through? What do you think?"

The last part was directed at the rest of the group.

---

Spoiler: OOC

*I'm not sure what the layout of the towns are or if we'll end up passing through any on our way. But Donnell is trying to triangulate to get a rough estimate to see where the attacks might be coming from.

 

[Snarf Zagyg]

Doc didn't cotton to Cain at all. He still had a recollection of those fine men that he drank and gambled with that Cain took too early to the Sheriff in pursuit of some fool notion of glory. Doc knew too well that glory was just fancy talkin' by people with no sense orderin' others to the graveyard. If'n Cain had a problem with endin' sum issue without bloodshed, maybe he should take it up with the souls he wasted. All hat, no cattle.

Still, Doc wasn't used to this new peckin' order. He was used to the calm of Hoss, but he was havin' sum spot o' trouble seein' the yung 'un as the type o' seasoned gunslinger that could lead this posse. He felt some .... well ... sumpin' .... toward that yung 'un, and saw his bravery, but wasn't quite ready to follow the lead. Hoss had proved hisself; the yung 'un had a ways to go 'fore Doc would lissen. But he saw that the yung 'un wasn't too sure of it hisself when he looked to the posse for some tactical strategery.

Reckon talkin' to blackhats never done no gud. The only words they's understand is the bullet.

Doc paused.

But ya can't unkill what ya done shot, so I figure makin' sure we killin' the right folk is the first thing to do.

OOC: Doc agrees that we need to get information and is willing to stop along the way. Also if there is anything he can learn from Bastion orders (above- Sheriff via Wyatt, Pikus from the Pub) before departure. Also also - are we riding (horse) or trekking? One more thing- for purposes of keeping guard, Doc doesn't sleep. Long rest is 4 hours, but Doc is awake. And probably drinking.

 

[Tonguez]

Waythe was ecstatic when she heard the news "its about time we did something worthwhile!" the great sword asserted loudly inside his mind "you were starting to go soft!".

Kahru could feel the passion of her bloodlust rising, so that he felt his own muscles tense and his heartrate rising eager to once more be out and hunting giantish raiders. Perhaps Waythe was correct, too long resting in the She-Bears sanctuary and hunting near the castle had led to complacency. The Steading had still not yielded anything to report to Lord Thyffon and it seems the Hill giant raids were just the beginning. Perhaps Timulton, Shetsbury, and Lambscote would provide other clues.

"We will need to scout the approaches and know who we are facing at the Howling Crag" he nodded agreement with Donnell "there is no wisdom in rushing in before we know our adversery"

Besides, and Kahru kept his words to himself, not willing to give Cain more fuel - we did not hold to our truce with the Steinjotunen to leave the orcs in the caverns, so we have no claim to their word, only to their actions...

 

[FitzTheRuke]

Donnell

The young knight's plan may have had merit, but it was logistically difficult - the villages and towns that Caine had named were further away from Greyfalls Castle than was Howling Crag (the nearby home of the Stone Giants). Both were northward, but the Castle had been granted to them precisely because of its proximity to the giants, and to the trails and passes that wormed their way through the peaks of the Crystalmist Mountains. The Crag was northwest, and the towns northeast by east, and it would be easier to return to Greyfalls than to enter the mountains from there.

While having first-hand knowledge of the attacks might help them in their negotiations with Thane Arnak, it would only serve to delay their audience further. Perhaps by as much as two weeks. His concern for the towns held a personal matter - he'd once trained with a swordmaster in Timulton, and there was an innkeeper's daughter with flashing green eyes that had flirted with him during his stay. He wondered if his concern for Ailysh Parrywell was affecting his judgement, and whether that was a bad thing.

* * *

Doc

Doc had heard a lot of yack at the saloon that spoke of the ongoing trouble with the oversized black hats, but much of it was speculative. Just before Doc had left for this meeting, he'd overheard Pykus recommending lodgings to a travelling merchant. He hadn't taken much note of it at the time, other than to remark to himself that he thought it peculiar that the man had brought along his pregnant wife and a lad barely out of his clouts. But Doc had heard that the fellah was from Lambscote, and now it was clear, even through the liquor, that they were refugees.

Doc had stopped by the Sherriff's chapel before heading inside, and while the Sherriff himself hadn't returned, the Winds that Whispered had blown through from the Mesa. They were much warmer than was natural for these mountains, and came with a dust that stung the eyes. And they spoke. Much of it was gibberish or things that Doc would probably never understand the meaning of, but three things stood out: the King of Stone is mad; mad is the Stone of Kings, the giants are not all of one mind, even when they are of one skin, and the tall woman has betrayed her father.

Wyatt nodded to Doc as he left the chapel, and remarked, "They's cryptic as always, but best be heeded."