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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Beale Knight" data-source="post: 2623162" data-attributes="member: 7033">Session 12 pt1: Requiem for a Giant, Witness to WarOur night with “our” tribe of farunk was well spent. We filled up on swamp rat and sticker root stew and traded tales and news. The farunk were worried. The ogres had been more active and more wide-ranging of late, and the farunk rarely ventured far out of the swamp anymore. Horror stories of “the blue one” abounded.That night though, deep in the swamp, there was no horror. We awoke the on Day Forty-Two and discussed our plans. With more time than expected on our hands we sat on some choices. We could go and see about the blue ogre to the north, we could pay a return visit to the dwarves, or do something completely different. After some thought about the empty areas of the map, we decided to follow the river east out of the swamp. There was a coast in that direction somewhere, and odds were we’d end up due north of Maissen. With the real threat of wandering ogres, we decided to ride close to the swamp’s north side. If we encountered ogres we could take advantage of our mounts. If we encountered too many ogres, we could head into the swamp and take advantage of the terrain. It was a solid plan, but the entire thing was about to be made irrelevant. Well before noon we saw smoke to the northeast. Bessie's owl friend flew ahead and had no ill reaction to what he saw, so we rode toward the scene. Several small fires were burning and as we closed in on the sight we saw why. We had ridden upon a fresh battlefield. Scorched areas of ground, a littering of broken armor and weapons, foot and hoof prints  scattered everywhere, as were bodies and carrion eaters. All of the bodies were larger than we five. There were plenty of ogres, and kerbals, but also many real giants. Some of the latter looked simply like larger version of ogres, but many were larger and with skin of stone grey. One of them was moaning.Aneirin, Ren, and Barbrack remained mounted, weapons ready, as Bessie approached the fallen giant (Dumb Bear was with us, but the swamp rat stew, or the spices the farunk used, had severely disagreed with his elven stomach). The giant was prone beside a huge, once-luxurious sedan that had been broken into several pieces. Even without other giants for comparison it was plain that this one was old, perhaps venerable. Clearly he was someone of importance. “Can we help you?” Bessie asked, confident her amulet would do the necessary translating. There was no need. In perfect Maissen, the giant responded, “You have come too late.”He went on the explain that he was leading a troop to the dwarves when they were ambushed by ogres and giants led by “The Mage,” the blue ogre we had heard so much about lately – Bran. He detailed some of the battle, telling us how The Mage could turn into a cloud, change his shape, become invisible, charm the minds of his enemies, and so much more. It was a frightening revelation. To think we had considered hunting him down ourselves!Our giant narrator’s name was Dolemite, and he told us he was friend to Olaf the Short. As Maisseners we should try to get in touch with him to let him know what had happened. Dolemite still had much to tell.A new gate had been erected along the path to the stone city, that place we had seen the redbreasts last month. The stone giants were standing with the dwarves against The Mage. The Sintars, horse-men whose hoof prints were all over this battlefield, had been driven out of their homelands and were headed south. Those storm giants that could be bothered stood against The Mage as well, but the frost giants were with him (which fit with what we’d already learned). Much had happened as we’d been making out way around the mountain. It was a lot to try and absorb. So we turned our attention to more practical matters. Bessie offered to heal Dolemite, but he politely refused. “My time is at its end.” We asked if there were anything at all that we could do and he did have a favor to ask. His prepared crypt was not far from here. It was a place he would rather die over the open air of a battlefield. We prepared a travois from the ruined sedan and slowly drug Dolemite off the field. He directed us north-northwest, passing in and out of consciousness, over the next few hours. At last we were well into the mountains and the stone giant bid us stop. We had arrived.The place looked like any other rock wall we had passed since getting into the mountains, but Dolemite pointed out a subtle depression. He handed Bessie his amulet, the size of a dinner plate to us, and told her to place it in the depression. As soon as she did the wall opened up to reveal a kingly crypt.Painted skins decorated the walls. Statues stood throughout the room. Stands displayed works of art. All of it, of course, scaled to stone giants. In the center of it all was the great stone slab that would be Dolemite final resting place. Huge stones were close by to be used in constructing an cairn. Dolemite told to not worry with those. “Some of my kind will come here in time to build that,” he said. We eased him, as best as we were able, onto the slab and he thanked us deeply. For aiding him, Dolemite granted us any single burial item. We chose a melon sized ruby etched with a scene of giants throwing rocks. This was something we could present to Maissen. We left a scroll with our names on it, detailing all that had transpired since we came upon the battlefield. Dolemite asked that we toss his amulet back into the crypt once we used it to close the doors. With it inside, only his own kind could open the hidden doors. We complied, Bessie scooting it back as the stone doors began to close. Once sealed closed, there was virtually no sign the crypt was there at all. Now we were well west of both the dwarves and the stone town where had last seen the redbreast – and Idien. Our plan now became to reach the dwarves and tell them all Dolemite had told us. But the day was nearing end. Finding a safe place to camp was out next step. Real safety was more dubious than usual. Smoke was rising in the mountains to the north-northeast – just about where we thought the plateau of stone buildings were. Day Forty Three began with each of us unexpectedly well refreshed from an uneventful night. We set off to the dwarves along the same path we had traveled weeks earlier. How things had changed. By the time we reached the fork in the trail it was evident just how much traffic this area had seen recently. What had been a rough, narrow track through the mountain was now a twenty foot wide road pounded out by the tramping of countless giant feet. Scores, perhaps hundreds, of giant kin had passed back and forth this way within the past few days. The change wasn’t the biggest surprise. That honor went to the two nervous looking kerbal waiting for us – specifically. Unlike the primitive ones Ren and Bessie had defeated a lifetime ago, these were geared out in warrior garb accented with white flags atop tall poles. “Karkove wishes parley with you,” one of them said. Again the blessing of Bessie amulet came to our aid. She heard what they said, the rest of us heard grunts and growls. Through Bessie we learned that Karkove was a blue ogre. ANOTHER blue ogre. That wasn’t anything we wanted to hear. Not after what Dolemite had told us Bran could do. Now we learn there was ANOTHER involved! And this one wanted to talk with us. The two kerbals had no more information to offer, and honestly seemed nervous to be around us. Deciding we might learn something useful, perhaps how to steer clear of this entire mess, we agreed to the parley. We were led up the mountain road a few miles and soon came before something that wasn’t there before. Where there had been an open trail through wooded mountains, there was now a tall wooden gate stretching between two tree bare, muddy slopes. Half a dozen or so armed kerbal stood guard atop the gate. Along the path about 100 feet before it was a long table, gold and gems piled high in the middle of it. The kerbals pointed us to the table and went ahead to the gate. We settled our mounts a little way from the table, left Babrack with them, and walked to the table. From the gate came what could only be Karkove. He was an ogre in size and shape, half again as tall and wide as Aneirin, tusks, horns, and limbs thicker than Ren. Most striking was his bluish green skin. Karkove sat and bid us to do the same. Once settled, the blue ogre proceeded to tell us how much we had impressed him. We had, after all, killed two of his ogres! He wanted us to join with him, become a part of the army he was incredibly proud of. He directed our attention up the mountain. We had seen the big white cross on that mountainside before; now there was a long line of ogres marching into it. “The mountain dwarves will fall,” he told us. “For you can see nothing can stand against such an army.” The blue ogre freely admitted he worked under Bran (“for now”), who we already knew worked under Idien. He confirmed most of the giants were also allied with what would doubtlessly be the winning side. He then surprised us. “You are invited to be a part of it. You will have power and riches, and see the domination of your enemies,” he said.We were left momentarily speechless.Next: Speechful, Surprises, a Sad Loss, and a Decision Presented POST 185</blockquote>

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