Snake's Demise.

Thallan has arrived in Alhereth and is disturbed to hear that people are missing. Something must be done. He decides to find the Elders and see if anything can be done. He decides he will offer his skills as a woodsman and a warrior too.

Filled with purpose, he sets out for the local Tavern to gather information and perhaps rouse a few volunteers as well.

A blacksmith of the nearby Arasgard mountains, Daglin is in town in Alhereth to sell his production as he usually does a few times a year. Only this time around, he hears a lot about people disappearing while he stays in the market. Intrigued, he decides to ask a few more questions to customers and passers by to learn about who exactly disappeared, and in what circumstances.

As Thallan enters the tavern, one of the more noticeable patrons is a large man, belly unbound by an inadequate shirt, with a mess of flame-red hair and beard. He sloppily hoists a stein of what seems to be ale, laughing along with a nearly-equally portly halfling. "...and that's when the dwarf says, 'I'm not talking about the mule, I'm talking about my mother!'" The halfling roars in laughter with the man, but the other patrons seem to roll their eyes. Who knows how long he had been there?

Baelrick had come to town recently, another trip to another village to another so-called wizard. It had been far too long since he had discovered anything new of sorcery, and the missing Janos made for another round of disappointment. Thankfully, the tavern made up for the circumstances. But without a reason to stay, he would likely be back on the road sniffing out another practitioner of the arts. And then the elf walked in...

Thallan walks into the Tavern. He sees the exceptionally large man. He laughs and smiles, "Are you entertaining or just in your cups? Name's Thallan," he holds his hand out to shake the man's hand in greeting.
"An Ale for me and the Bard here!" he says as he sits at the table.
"I'd love to hear another quip if you've any more left in you. Just came from a stint in the woodlands and a few ales and some good cheer is due I reckon."

The man rises from the table revealing his true height, remembering only too late that he has to duck in this play. Halfling construction, true to the little-folk themselves, tried to be accommodating; it was different, however, to be prepared for a man like this.

He extends a meaty hand to the elf, engulfing the fingers of the fairer folk without squeezing too hard. "Baelrick. Some folks call me Tawdry, but only because I let them. Well met, elf! It seems your folk are as generous as they say! Well, not me..." He winks at Thallan before returning to his seat.

"I'm sure I could scare up some words in jest. Let's see here... Ah ha!

Tis true: an elf's years are as long as his ears
But his heart is as small as his nose.
For a dwarf with a flagon, when confronting a dragon
Is worth more than an elf with his bow."

Once again, the man erupts in laughter at his dirty, along with the halfling... and once again the rest of the tavern lets out a sigh. By the look on his face, he doesn't seem to harbor any actual ill-will towards Thallan or his kin.

"Ha! Good one. Haven't heard that one before. But before we get too far into the night, I have heard some disturbing news. It has been said that some of the good folk here have gone missing. And not just for a few days, it seems weeks now since they've been gone, and it's still happening. These halflings have their pride, so I imagine they've not mentioned it till now that it seems serious.

"I'm going to look into what can be done about it. Nobody deserves to have their loved ones carted off by goblins or worse. Have you heard anything about it?" says the elf as he takes a long pull of his ale. "Ahhh...that's some good sh...shstuff! yep, Halfling ale. Can't beat it with a stick!"

Baelrick leans forward across the table, suddenly appearing serious and almost sober. "I, too, have heard of missing folks, though I only came to speak with the local magicker. Janos has gone missing, and I would find him for purposes of my own. But what can the two of us alone do against goblins, which appear only en masse?"

Before Thallan can reply to his new acquaintance, the door of the tavern is unceremoniously kicked open and a halfling woman with ruffled strawberry blonde hair - which seems to be partially painted in brick red, unless it's a trick of the light, - appears on the threshold. She is dressed in a striped linen shirt and brown breeches, has a heavy-looking backpack on her back and a scimitar strapped to her belt, and looks overly excited. There is a small grey dog weaving around her legs and watching the gathered folk suspiciously.

"Who here wants to go and explore some cursed ruins with me?!" Her voice is way too full of enthusiasm for someone interrupting a perfectly serene day in a local tavern, and whichever locals are present in the room all sigh, heavier than they did at Baelrick's jokes.

As always in her travels, Peli has been drawn to Alhereth by the rumors of danger and potential adventure, gleefully disregarding the first and eager to get to the latter. Even in two days since her arrival, the common populace has already become acquainted with her loud voice and exuberant manner, and many a citizen has been pestered by her questions about Snake's Demise - usually to no avail, as Peli Wheatstalk simply was too intimidating for her own kin.

When there is no immediate answer, the halfling's eyes wander around the tavern and stop on Thallan and Baelrick. She practically glows upon seeing them, beelining for their table immediately. "Hi! Hello! Haven't seen you around before!" She is a bit too short even for a halfling and has to look at them from below, but doesn't seem to have any problem with that. "I'm Peli! Are you two adventurers? Are you here for the ruins?!" She stretches the last word into a dramatic, but somehow still loud whisper.

"It seems you have us at a loss. I was just about to share a limerick with my enourmous friend here. Have a seat and take a listen, then I will share my limerick.

Catriona, a pretty young lass
Had a truly magnificent ass.
Not rounded and pink
As you possibly think
It was grey, had long ears, and ate grass.

The ale must be going to Baelrick's head, this halfling acted unlike any of the other little folk he had met! The energy in this one was electric, and even Baelrick suddenly felt dull compared to her.

"It would seem we are of the same mind, little one! The elf and I were just having words of seeking out the ruins for the missing townsfolk. But that would best wait until the morning, as I am not nearly sober enough to fight even a single goblin! No, instead I will share this last jest before retiring to a tiny bed.

A halfling once came through the door,
Who in the tavern caused quite an uproar,
The mayor's wife he did grope,
And the whole counsel said nope,
Someone please get this Proudfoot a whore!"

Peli listens to their poetry with interest, but soon starts tapping her foot impatiently, clearly more concerned about the ruins than playful jabs and dirty songs. She does perk up when the red-bearded man mentions their plans though, and leans against the table to stare at him in excitement. "So you *are* going to the ruins! Fantastic!" She claps her hands. "May I come with you?! It's really inconvenient to climb some walls in these places, I tell you! But you can throw me if needed! You look strong." She turns to eye the elf. "And you're tall."

She whistles, and her terrier comes running. The halfling bends to pull something from beneath his collar and hand over to Baelrick. It's a crudely drawn map, a path leading to a cross somewhere near the town. "I camp here! Come and find me once you're moving out, will you? I can even make you breakfast - can't travel on empty stomachs. Hey, elf-friend, do you eat meat? Or do you prefer vegetables? Ah, I'll do both!" She seems to have already decided that both of them are coming with her despite Thallan's words - and despite not even knowing their names. "Come at dawn, I'll wait for you two!"

With that said, note passed and new companions acquired, Peli straight up turns and marches out of the tavern and onto the streets. She needs more people for better halfling-throwing. And probably something to keep her eyes open wide at Snake's Demise... Oooh, something spicy! Or some mint? Maybe neetle - no one can sleep with that rash all over oneselves...

Daglin hears about a disappeared dwarf merchant, doing business with elves. Both pieces of information trigger his curiosity. He goes after the person he heard talk about it and tries to know more: "Hey there, you say elves are coming this way? Do you know where they are? And have you heard the name of the dwarf kin who disappeared?" he asks, curious.

The morning comes far too soon, and the light peeking through the window brings with it pain. Baelrick winces at the sunshine that robs him of energy and instills a pounding headache within him. He grumbles as he rises, searching for some water to splash on his face as well as drink. Stumbling out into the hall, seemingly does everything in his power to worsen the headache by managing to hit his head several times along the way. Eventually, he makes his way out into the day with a hunk of bread and some hard cheese. Remembering (somewhat) the map that the halfling had shown the night before, Baelrick begins working his way in that direction. First, though, he stops at the stables to collect his stubborn mule and cart. Why walk when he can ride?

"Ho Baelric, decided to sleep in today?" says Thallan as he walks over. "Room for one more? I would think there are better chances with two than a lone traveler, what with folks missing and such..."

Hrp! "Of course, my frail friend. Let us walk together. I could use someone to guide the mule. Perhaps I will have retrieved the dagger from my skull by the time we reach that particularly chipper one..."

Daglin scratches his head at the halfling answer. A war between his people and the elves would certainly not be good news, especially for business. "Where do you think I could know more? The tavern?" He asks and answers himself at the same time.

Still puzzled, but determined to find answers, Daglin packs up his gear and puts it on his mule, then heads to the tavern.

"Hey there!" hails Daglin, maybe a little roughly. "I have a few questions, if you don't mind me asking. Would you know about the whereabouts of elves in the region, by any chance?"

Peli skids to an abrupt stop as she is hailed by a dwarf approaching the tavern, her thoughts of buying herbs and spices rapidly refocusing on a new potential companion - because who else would be calling after her if not someone she could recruit for her plans of ruin exploration and breakfasting out in nature? Her eyes light up with delight as the halfling dashes up to Daglin and enthusiastically offers him her hand; her terrier Bean runs after her and sniffs suspiciously at the dwarf's mule.

"I don't mind at all, ask away! Not that I know anything about elves, as I practically just arrived the day before yesterday, but I'm sure I can find out something? Oh, oh, you know, there is an elf in this right here tavern right now! Well, maybe not right now, I think they were planning to go to sleep, but listen, they are coming with me to investigate that weird local ruin with a sleeping curse tomorrow, so you can join us and ask him about the elf things!" She manages to say all of that in one breath; it is genuinely impressive. "Also, I'm Peli!"

She pauses and taps her chin with her finger thoughtfully, then points towards somewhere behind Danglin's back. "I don't have another map, but I'm camping behind over there, near a vegetable garden! Come visit me at dawn and you should run into the elf too. I'll make you a pie!" She claps her hands in delight, clearly already planning a feast for folk she barely knows; halfling hospitality is a force of nature.

Daglin scratches his head, not sure what to make of what he just heard. "Well, if there is an elf inside, I guess I'd better ask him directly?" he answers, puzzled, before entering the inn.

Artur supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised that his family would kick him out of the house on the day he came of age.

House Yorgish was a storied and ancient noble house, so it stood to reason that its patriarch, Franschish Third of his Name, would be especially concerned with maintaining the honor and prestige of his family. Unfortunately, his son Artur’s concern for the common folk of their domain combined with his stubbornness threatened their house’s standing. After all, when fellow nobility came to visit, they should be treated with respect no matter what. And Artur always had an issue with that when they acted in a manner that he felt was unjust.

That was the explanation given along with the notice that he would be disinherited to Artur on his 18th birthday. Artur remembered it well, but not as well the moment that had preceded that warning. Artur was going to the privy when he heard muffled sobs coming from one of the manor’s spare bedrooms. Opening the door to investigate, he had seen the head of a visiting Elven noble house violating one of the serving girls. Enraged, he had savagely beaten the Elf and had to be restrained from doing any further harm to him.

Thus, after 6 months of wandering nowhere in particular, Artur found himself in Alhereth. He was finally starting to run low on food and so figured now would be the time for him to find work. He approached the tavern, figuring that it would be as good a place as any to find work.

"What's this nonesense about adventuring?" thinks Daglin to himself. "Are all these people mad or what?"

"Hum!" answers the dwarf to the man in arms he doesn't know at all. "Well, I was going into the tavern anyway. It's as good a way as another to find company..." Then he enters at a resolute pace.

Peli's attention shifts to the human. "Hello-hello! And yes, I am looking for folks willing to join my expedition!" She happily offers him a handshake, stretching her arm to be able to reach his level. The man is almost thrice her height; which is certainly an indication of good halfling-throwing potential. "There is a mysterious ruin nearby, apparently causing disappearances and the like! A creepy sleeping spell, aggressive animals! I was planning to go there and see what fascinating things hide inside, but I can't climb very well so I needed some company. I already recruited a duo of an elf and a man - great singing voices, these two, - and this here dwarf, but the more the merrier!"

She takes a deep breath, clearly planning to continue her five-words-a-second monologue, but suddenly stops, her eyes lighting up. "Wait, I need to buy more supplies for pies! And cookies! If there are going to be five of us, we can't possibly only have a simple breakfast! Right, Bean?" The halfling directs last question towards a tiny dog at her heel. The dog barks in agreement. "Right! I need to go shopping before the night comes.... Hey, wanna come with?" She looks up at Artur. "Also, my name's Peli!"

Inside the tavern, Daglin can find an elf sitting at a table alongside a particularly large (in both height and width) human. The latter seems to be well into his spirits.

Daglin approaches the elf, at a resolute pace, and starts talking to him straight up: "Hi there, I'm Daglin, blacksmith from the nearby mountains. I have heard alarming rumors concerning dealings between elves and dwarves in the region. Would you know anything about that by any chance?"

"Anything? Mayhap you might be more specific..Dag, Lin. I could say, that in fact I'm dealing with a dwarf now. I am listening to you as I finish this pint...hehe...ahem,...yes."

"Don't mind him, hic, these bloody ears don't hold their liquor like you or I. Mama always said I had a little dwarf in me... Now it looks like there's a little dwarf in me! Hahahaha!" Baelrick, being entirely unhelpful, erupts in magnificent laughter at his own joke. The halfling beside him, however, seems to be trying to sleep at the table.

Daglin narrows his eyes when hearing the elf's answer, then raises an eyebrow at the sudden laughter from his companion. Not sure how to take it all, he decides to be more specific: "I heard elves are going to war! Or at least threaten to do so. Have you heard of it?"

"War say you? No, I haven't heard anything of the sort. And, as a sign of good faith, let me buy you a pint sir, have a seat with us. We were merely trading limericks my good dwarf."

Almost surprised by the offer, Daglin accepts eagerly. "Well, that's a relief. At least some of your kin know how to handle things. Besides, it's probably a bit too late to go back home now..." he answers. "Still, you would very much like to know what is behind those gossips..."

"Probably some arseling startin' rumors. I don't belive shite till I see it. More Ale sweet lady and another'n for me mates here. There's some drinkin' to be done this night.

We're all getting closer to death, friend, it's gonna find us soon enough - only the when and the how have yet to be decided. Till then, eat drink and be merry!"

Thallan stands up and begins to shuffle his feet to the music

As the frightened Halfling children ran past Artur, he felt a palatable sense of dread emanate from the pit of his stomach. If Wildlings really were here then he had no idea how the town could properly defend itself against them. Trying to hide his discomfort, he said to Peli, "Pardon me, but what were those children screaming about?"

Thallan see what is happening. He signs with a nod to Baelrick and Daglin to follow him. He asks the father/uncle, "Sire, I couldn't help but overhear your strapping young lad here say something about wildlings. Is it true?"
Thallan's face becomes one of concern.

"They must not have liked your face Thorbjorn." Tyr joked with the Bison scratching the hump of the Bison's shoulders where it met Thorbjorn's neck. He was well aware that the Bison did not care for opinions, but having been so long its companion he didn't have many other people to talk to. Fylgja the Fox bat its ear indicating that it was disturbed by the racket, but the fox was too far gone from the mushroom it had eaten earlier to do much more than that in protest. She keened and rolled to the other side of her body upon Tyr's lap. Returning to her waking dreams with a loud sigh.

Tyr only wished he could be so relaxed. This far south the people didn't know the difference between a Free Man, and a Beastling. Tyr scoffed at their superstitious nonsense. He shook his coin purse and found the clinking within to be less than satisfactory. The settlement would mean work, and work was always profitable.

Thorbjorn meandered slowing down to an intolerable pace as he lifted his massive head and sniffed the air, losing hopefully he stopped and shook his back.

Tyr could have forced Thorbjorn to carry him longer, but was to lazy to do so as he gathered Fylgja and placed her over his shoulders. The fox squeaked in protest but relaxed as soon as she came to rest on Tyr's shoulders. She coo'd happily and closed her eyes again.

The Warg Skull headdress did not close resemble the southern Warg. The skull alone was large enough to be worn on Tyr's head, and while still more boy than man, Tyr was a larger human, taller and fuller of lithe muscle. He looked more Elven than Man, with the brilliant red highlight in his bronze hair. The way he moved was with perfected grace and poise. He shifted his weight and balance without the slightest loss of power as he walked clad in wooden shoes, and a leather tunic that stretched past his knees. Even from a distance the quality of his clothing boasted the quality of craftsmanship of his land.

He carried a staff, that had been curved at the head, at one end an iron ring. Studded leather formed a small net between the ring. On the opposite head, an iron spike. It was a cultural implement from the distant north. A tool for playing a sport, knattleikr. Covering his brow the youth peered into the main drag that made up the road, identifying several persons and places of interest. To the Elf he raised his hand overhead and flashed a sign, the index and thumb if his left hand curled in a circle, Othala, the middle, ring, and little fingers of his left hand forming the Kennaz rune.

"Heil Noldor." It spelled in an archaic Elven Language.

"I am Called Fox-Foot, Holy Shaman, Healer, for trade, bless your fields and children. Thorbjorn produce many fine steer for beef. Him produce fine cow for hoosband. Ald for one silber."

Tyr had a very strong lilt in his voice. And the forced enunciation of his speech along with his timber implied he didn't actually speak the common tongue. He was reciting something he understood the meaning of. He was loud enough that he was certain any of the nearby people in houses could hear him. He waited a moment to see if anyone would take his offer.

A loud scrape sounds through the tavern as Baelrick slides back his chair, and even louder creaking sounds as he rises to his feet. He nods to Thallan before reaching for a staff that had been propped up behind him. The piece of wood looked closer to a tree than a walking aide. The gnarled top and smoothed grip suggested it was used for corrections of others more than his stance.

Baelrick stretches his arms out wide, the sound of his back crackling was impressive. And when he stumbled to the door, it was the trail of alcohol vapors that were more impressive.

"Oh Thorbjorn, here is Ein Bisschen." Tyr laughed shamelessly at his own joke. "A Bison. Just a wild one of yon, cattle. I stud him out when there's a herd. If a male is born it will make for a fine beast of burden. But a cow born from Bison will make the best like of cattle ever witnessed." Delighted to have a person who would talk to him Tyr spoke an old tongue of Elvish with the merchant though seemed to have little difficulty understanding the Common the Elf spoke. "These people, they think I am a savage? That is ironic." Tyr chuckled at the notion. "I come from Far Away, for I am an envoy for the Free Men of the North, surely you can see I am no savage." To emphasize his point Tyr pointed to the sacred arm band about his left arm. A coil of metal that took fine and precise tools to make, a technological marvel to most. Further the brass cuff on his jerkin, and the fine steel chain, holding a small hammer around his neck, all finely engraved, obvious trappings of power, and technology beyond what was in this part of continent. "I am a Seer on pilgrimage. Will you help me kinsman?"

"I would never have thought that I would find such strange company in this village, after all the times I have been here..." mumbles Daglin, as if ha was talking to himself.

Thallan follows Baelrick outside.
"Long strides, short legs, I see how you move so quickly now!" he says as he tries to keep up.

"A man of my import has no time to waste walking slowly! And if there are some to be protected from the Wildlings and free ale to be earned, then haste has double importance... Hmmm, I used that word twice..." His stride is truly mighty, and he heads in the direction pointed. He hopes it is a wild man, as bears are much more fierce opponents.

"They screamed about servants of the Enemy!" Peli replies with way, way more enthusiasm than the idea should ever prompt, her eyes lighting up like a magpie's upon seeing a shiny trinket. She grabs for Artur and tugs him forward, towards the source of the commotion. "Let's go and investigate! Maybe we'll get to do battle! Do you think it is related to the ruins? Or the curse? Trouble comes to those who seek it!"

The halfling continues her chattering as she drags her new companion to the town square and then a merchant stand by which she notices a... bison? And a human? And a fox?! Peli squeaks in delight, letting out a sound of excitement and pointing the odd company out to Artur. "Look, look, do you think he is an adventurer? He must be! Come on, we should recruit him too!" Without further waiting, Wheatstalk dashes towards Tyr, waving at him and the merchant he is talking too.

"Hello-hello, excuse me, can I talk with you for a minute? I promise I'm not stealing a potential customer, master elf!" She skids to a stop right by the odd-looking human, looking up at him and extending her hand. "Hi! I am Peli, and I am recruting a band of adventurers and curse-cleansers! Are you here for the ruins, too? You should join us, we are going on an expedition tomorrow! Oh wait, do you understand me?" She looks over her shoulder to see if Artur followed her. "Artur, do you speak Elvish?! It is Elvish, right? I think it is Elvish..."

Bean - a small gray terrier following after the halfling, - is meanwhile busy warily eyeing the fox on the man's shoulders. He seems more suspicious than aggressive, though, and politely keeps to Peli's side.

"Pardon me, this one wants my attention." Tyr apologized to the Elf in Quenya and turned his attention to the halfling woman. He assumed she was a child, he afterall had never seen a halfling before.

Hunkering down Tyr met the approaching person eye level and considered her. The eyes were far quicker and wiser than any child. "Hallo Peli, I speak little common." He replied matter of factly. "I am Called Fox Foot, know I the language of Elves. I am Holy Healer from Far Away." Tyr pointed North by North East. "I work for silber." Soft and lilting, baritone he had kind eyes and a nice voice.

At his voice the sleeping fox stirred and nipped his earlobe with a yip. It was telling him to be quiet, a very wise fox indeed. Fylgja was old, up close she was going grey and had swollen joints, it was no wonder she rode on the humans shoulders. But Tyr ignored her behavior focused on Peli.

It was important to note, while then leather showed a scarcity of material, the cut and tailoring of it indicated he came from a highly advanced culture. The stitching itself was uniform and created neither burr nor blemish in the pattern. With his arm ring and cuff, made of brass as they were, engraved to resemble tokens of authority and a badge of office. His outfit also looked quite comfortable, even though it favored function over form. The headdress was the one embellishment made solely for Form. While the paint upon his Bison and Flesh marked him as some kind of tribal warrior, the fineness of his clothing indicated he was no savage. That, and he was remarkably clean, he washed regularly even if it was just in troughs and rivers. This close he smelled like lavender oil more than sweat, the scent wafted from his oiled hair beneath the headdress.

Hark! The wilding stood plainly before them! And he threatens a half king? Wait, that was the small one he had met earlier! And a merchant, too! Baelrick's sloppy stride increases, not quite recognizing that the scene is a peaceful one. It is clear from his nose being the color of his wild hair and beard that he is well in his drinks at this point.

"Begone, Wildling, before I smite you atop your blasted head! These halflings have us to count among their protectors, and protect I shall, if need be! But it needn't! For you shall return whence you came!"

Thallan noks an arrow though he holds it downward. He stands firmly beside Baelrick, ignoring the other human.
"Wildling, speak your peace or be prepared to stand and deliver!"

"Wild man, no! Free Man. Shaman. No, Wild Man."

Tyr was clearly very insulted by comparison, slapping the ground for emphasis each time he said Wild Man. "My am journey for a weapon to use against The Enemy."

"Hey, no assaulting our new potential companion!" Peli twirls on her heels to point accusatorily at Baelrick and Thallan, before putting her hands on her hips and giving them a judgemental look. "He said that he is a healer, and we need a healer! No weapon-waving, please, that's not how recruiting process goes." She pauses, examines the drunken state of the bearded human, then looks between Artur and the elf merchant. "And I agree, I think Fox Foot here has a great sense of fashion and isn't threatening anyone! We were having a very nice chat; so it's okay, human-friend-whose-name-I-don't-know-yet!" Her last words are directed towards Baelrick, and she attempts ro give him a pat on the hand (shoulder is out of her reach).

She then nods to herself, satisfied with her support for the peacemaking effort, and turns away to face Tyr again. "Sorry about that, friend! Also, what is a silber?" Her eyes wander around the man's attire, completely fascinated by his accessories. "If you came here to trade, I can help you! I used to be a merchant, and while my bartering skills are rusty, they still work. And you can help us after! An exchange, ey?"

The Man's language was so similar to his own tongue until it wasn't. Peli got the impression he only understood the basic concepts of her speech. "I am not a wildling, kinsmen." Raising his hand to Thallan he signed peace with his palm outstretched as a ward. "My people, we are your people's children, Dúnedain of Efterkommersland, Hildorien." Tyr of course referred to the first age when men and Elf made alliances, his kin were offshoots of the two species interbreeding. It wasn't hard to see, fair as he was, lithe, not the most beautiful of elvenkind but certainly the appearance was there. His grace and posture, even knelt as he was testament to that.

"I am a Free Man from Faro'e." The word in man speech was "Far Away" in Elvish he alluded to an Isle Surrounded by mists. "These lands south here, primitive as they are, hold magics and weapons I may bring back to my people."

He took his meager coin purse showing eight silver coins. "Silwer. Silber." The word was giving him some trouble, his accent seemed to make hard V sounds difficult to pronounce. But he held the coin pointedly. "Silber. I will take gohld but is more work. Maybe you have sick. Or wounded. Man, Elf, or otherwise. The Light Heals all. I work for silber." He repeated with emphasis in The Mannish tongue.

"We not so different, my land is full of contraptions, maybe we trade with Southron Folk. My people respect my word our soil is old, and full of metal. No good for food. But we make well like Dvergr." Showing off the sacred arm ring, he showed brass that was spun, not cast and it had been formed while hot as it was absent any weld lines. Then showing the length of chain and small hammer on his neck, each link had been individually riveted rather than butted. It was not only lighter, but probably much stronger as it had been blued and hardened. The blackness of the steel implied it was ancient, certainly older than the man who wore it. "We learn from The Shadow, the riddle of steel, the secret of silber, the ecstasy of gohld. We use the shadows metal to fight and for years we won. But no food. No babies born. No new men to stand. My land is die. No contraption can save. We need old magic. We need allies. So the Most High One Sent me. To find and bring the light in these troubled times."

It was at that point Thorbjorn, in boredom, lowed, and laid himself on the ground. This woke the sleeping fox who nimbly leapt from Tyr's shoulders to the Bison and curled up in its fur. It stared at Tyr, glared for a moment stamped it's paw and then laid back down again with a yip sneezing before it fell back into its slumber. The Bison was snoring moments later.

Daglin followed the other companions from afar, curious. He was worried for a while that things would degenerate, but reason prevailed eventually. Marked by the last words of the so-called wild man, he can't help but ask: "Have you seen trouble on your way here? Is the enemy approaching?"

Baelrick stood, quite confused. He had been content in the tavern surrounded by jolly folks and drowning in ale. A sighting of a wild man had scared the littlefolk, and he had offered to intervene. But now the wild man spoke in flowered terms, talking about bloodlines and missions from petty gods. His head was swimming! In the morning all would make sense... all that he remembered, anyways.

"If you are to bring light, then the little one here..."- he nods to Peli- "...will have some words for you. We seek to end some troubles that plague this town. Unless that is too far beneath you, my Dúnedain friend." He says the last few words with a condescending sneer. After all, bloodlines meant little... it was the power of the blood, instead, that mattered.

"The Enemy is everywhere." Tyr stated in Mannish.

He switched back to Elvish "The War Machine of The Enemy it does not care about one thousand leagues. If my people fall, these lands will fall in the aftermath." Something about the question made Tyr know these people weren't ready, and because of that they wouldn't believe him. "We should talk of something else. His Spies could be listening. If you have work, and trouble I will help, provided the promise of help in return."

Fylgja pounced from her perch, trying to surprise Bean. But the mushroom had left her uncoordinated. She fell face first to the dirt road and yipping her frustration tried to swipe the dog with her tail. The antics of which had Tyr laughing. "The mushroom has slowed you girl." The words he used were guttural it sounded like Mannish but older, and spoken from the lower pharynx sounded harsh to the ear in spite of the jovial nature of his voice.

"Considering that good citizens have gone missing and this - whatever it calls itself - has frightened the children, the children!, only a fool or a child would rush out unarmed without knowing the circumstances.
Point a finger at me again halfling and you might find yourself with one less."
Thallan puts his arrow away and unstrings his bow.
"Stand down friend, ignorance is only a danger to itself," he says to Baelrick. "Let's get another pint. Besides I've got to pay my tab as well..." he turns and heads for the tavern.

Baelrick nods. One more pint, and then restful sleep. After all, tomorrow was when they were to depart.

Tyr pondered the meaning of the villagers going missing. Without walls to secure them he wondered if the enemy might have some designs involving townsfolk. Or perhaps it was the Wildlings they spoke of.

Unable to sort out any tactics that had been used against his people he decided to go talk to those who ran the community. "Girl! You are extremely helpful, do you speak Elvish?" Tyr looked at the Halfling pointedly and touched her shoulder to break the trance she had fallen into examining his effects. He asked her in Elvish which added a certain more gravity to the request. "We may learn more if we talk to the Elders of this Village."

"Information if you have it. Who do I talk to if I want to learn more about the disappearances?" Tyr offered the Elven merchant a silver coin figuring a penny for his thoughts just wouldn't do.



The Bison snorted, then lowed as the two pups at play were disturbing His sleep. Slowly the Bison kicked at Fylgja, but far to slow to even touch the intoxicated She-Fox as she hopped away.



"Eeen!' She said and looked over to Tyr expecting him to intervene on her behalf. Losing her balance she fell on her side and was now victim to Bean's egress. Tyr plucked the She-Fox upright. She stood on shaky legs and laughed at Bean assuming she was safe.

Daglin shrugs at the exchange, and decides to follow Baelrick and Thallan back to the tavern. He will need to make arrangements: people disappearing are bad for business, so he is willing to help solve the mystery.

Upon (re)entering the tavern, this is where many see their first display of magic. After all, there's no other explanation for how Baelrick got a stein of ale, drank half, and led the entire tavern in song with such speed. No possible way at all, expect magic.

"...I want to see the towers of Men
that rise up to the sky,
and see the dells where wood elves dwell
and give dwarf beer a try!

I was not made for hearth and home
I’ve known this from my youth.
I’ve a restless soul with no fixed goal
if you wanna know the truth.

So let’s all drink till we are drunk
let beer flow like a fountain–
I’ll soon be gone–travelling on,
o’er hill and dale and mountain…"

"Oi! Baelrick, twas a fine song! Tugged at me heartstrings...you are truly amazing. A few coppers and silvers for the Bard here! He deserves it lads! Here, here!" says Thallan and encourages one and all to tip Baelrick.

Daglin discusses with the tavern owner to arrange for his mule and merchandise to be taken cared of while he is away investigating the disappearances. He also books a room for the night.

"I do not think those two realize how rude they are." Tyr said to Peli as the rest of the people cleared the street and headed for the tavern. "Where I am from rudeness to a stranger, however unwelcome, is to curse yourself." Using the iron point of his staff he scratched a rune into a nearby rock. An upward pointing arrow. Muttered a prayer in his own tongue and considered Peli. "Won't your parents be missing you?"

Tyr just laughed and shook his head. It bore no fruit to tell such a man the true nature of all men. "It is alcohol. It makes a demon of the best of us. Fermented fruit and grains are poison as much to body as spirit. Besides rudeness is a symptom of fear. I do not mind being fearsome." Tyr offered with a shrug. "It is the blessing I think of being so old." Tyr did not appear to be an old man but he did speak like one. He had only the slightest appearance of facial hair and such youthful glow, and vigor to him that it was a wonder he was even out of his village. In contrast to his youth, the Dúnedain bore dozens of scars. Some from animals, most from blades. Though they had almost completely disappeared as if time had healed them long ago.

"Thorbjorn, vække, vække!" Tyr pushed the Bison's shoulders with his foot.

The Bison growled in frustration having only just fallen asleep. But lifted itself up. It was obvious the trio was weary from the road.

"Well friend Baelrick, I've had me fill. Thanks for the comeraderie. Early, we'll set about hunting that which hunts these good folk."
Thallan heads to his rooms, humming the ditty Baelrick sung earlier.

Tyr followed Peli along to her camp and tried to make the best fire he could with the green wood and limited resources he had gathered.

Peli frowns as she watches the dwarf, the human and the elf all head back towards the tavern, her eyes following the latter. "Well, that was a little rude! And after I offered them pies only ten minutes ago!" She crosses her arms and taps her foot in displeasure. However, almost immediately her face clears again: "Ah, maybe he is just hungry! Can't have nice attitude on an empty stomach, and ale is not a good substitute for a proper dinner."

She then turns to Tyr and Artur, once again happy to converse with the two. "And yup, not a child! I am 43, actually. Not sure what it is in human years, but that's plenty enough for a halfling to be considered adult! Anyway, sorry, you asked about Elvish? I know a little bit, but not much. Your Common isn't that bad, though!" She looks around and whistles for Bean, tilting her head in surprise as she notices him playing with Fylgja. "Huh, he usually doesn't like strangers... Well, hey, I'm going to go buy some supplies before the market closes! Fox Foot, Artur, you're both welcome to join me at my camp later!"

As the barkeep tries to close Baelrick's open bill, the man merely laughs! He tries to hide a sheepish grin behind a boisterous smile, but a keen eye can see through the charade. "Is the entertainment I have brought not enough for a small meal? Is my quest to find your clansmen not enough for a room for a single night? Or have I misjudged you and yours, my small friend?!"

"Oh yeah? We are about the same age then. It was just my birthday a ten-day ago." Tyr responded to Peli though it was obvious he was lying. He was scarcely more than a teenager. "I avoid places with large groups of people generally, so I'll follow to your camp if you don't mind." Tyr continued in Elvish though he seemed to have a fair grasp of Peli's common. "Men have short lives, tempers, and memories. It is best not to compare yourself to them. That is what the Most High One says anyway. But he's more man than I am, and I've never met anyone older than him." He idly chatted while pulling on Thorbjorn's lead setting a nice slow pace for the Bison, allowing Peli to lead.

"Ah, of course,of course. That is a very fair and generous deal. Most becoming of you littlefolk, and why so many come to your lands fr hospitality. Thatvwas about six ales, so right around a heavy coin... I'm never disappointed when I find myself in a tavern I can hardly fit in! Quality, my friend! One room for two coins... I may say there was something quite special about your ale, as well. Is it brewed in house? With the discount, that comes to two coins altogether. Now, I swear I tasted juniper. Quite a bold choice, but my tongue was much appreciative. It would appear I'm still a little light on coin, so I believe I'll forego the room and instead sleep under the stars. Minus two coins means we break even. Your company has been most wonderful tonight, as well as those new friends I made here! Have a wonderful evening!

Peli easily navigates through the market, beelining for the stalls she wants to visit while chatting to her new companions. "Halflings aren't all that different from men, to be honest! We enjoy a good meal and a comfortable home - and you should've seen how fierce family feuds between us can be! Why, back at my village, there are those two families - Turnipears and Fernbottles - who constantly fight over a well. A well! It is straight between their gardens, and every season they bicker over who gets to use it. So silly, don't you think? It was good for my business though, since they kept breaking things in the process..."

Once done with the shopping, the halfling leads their group towards the northern premises of the village, heading for the place she chose as her camp when she frst arrived. It is a rather cozy space bracketed by a hill and providing plenty of grassy ground and flat rocks to sit on, and Peli has arranged a place for a campfire on the ground strip nearby. She happily offers both of the men to set up wherever they want around her tent, and proclaims that it is time for a late snack.

Tyr muttered something in his own tongue. It sounded equal parts impressed and interested, but perhaps a little judgemental. "Dúnedain are descended from Elves and the Edain, which I guess are like men. Only, if men were like us we would have destroyed The Enemy long ago. Nothing like this happened in my home country." He said in Elvish while wondering if Artur was following the more sophisticated nuance of the Elven tongue.

Tyr looked to Artur, he couldn't help but notice the cut of his clothing or the quality of his armor. Artur was likely from a different land as these. "Your people not like them? These men, so greedy and undeveloped. Uh your, berka." Tyr tapped the armor plate on Artur's chest. "Man word I do not know. The um, protective part is not undeveloped. Is not from these lands, I know. Your people not like these?"

"My people are from the south. They produce some of the finest craftsmen in the world, but they are not immune to greed and lust for power by any means. Artur stared off into the distance for a bit, and then remembered he had yet to fully answer the question. "Ah yes, if you are curious, then know that the word we use for the, uh, 'berka' is breastplate."

"Southron work is good work. Brehzt-plaite." Tyr tried the word out and failed several times. "Hauberka we call in Adunaic. But Southron steel, is not hard. You come Northron, see best steel." Tyr took off his amulet and handed it to Artur to look at it. "This will cut your Brehzt-plaite. Try you see!" The tiny hammer was barely larger than a thumb marked with strange runes and something that looked a lot like a compass. "Dainsteil."

Peli grumbles a lot about the prices, but still buys some spices and herbs for an extra touch to her dishes. Also to maybe impress the new... team? Fellowship? Group? Whatever they could be called. She is a little worried that the ones staying at the tavern might not show up tomorrow, so in her mind making the best possible breakfast would be enough to lure them in - even if there is no possible way they would smell it all the way on the other side of the village.

Daglin was on his way to his room, but stayed in the main room for while waiting to see how the discussion between the innkeeper and Baelrick would unfold. By nature, he is not keen to part with his hard earned gold, especially for a half-drunk man he barely knows. He is still hopeful things will settle quietly though.

Baelrick heads to the rented room with a yawn and a stretch, clasping Thallan on the shoulder. Good man!

"Don't worry, now you owe me a favor large one, hehehe."

Thallan finds Baelrick, and they have breakfast before they leave.
"Any suggestions? I don't want to kill anyone out of hand, but we should see if there's a bounty or some such. What say you sir?"

Tyr didn't sleep much, he didn't need too. After three hours of deep sleep he slumbered another hour in the Bison's fur before rising. The sky was just brightening in the east. It was the most glorious time of day.

Finding a nearby High point Tyr placed a blanket and knelt raising his hands to the dawn. He prayed in Adunaic, almost perfectly still in his sun salutation, only the rise and fall of his chest was moving.

It rose and he began his prayer.

"Heil Opgang Soweilu
Magnus Stor Got und, Lysgiver
skinner klart med lysglimt og krydser himlen
at erobre nattens tæppe
forfærdelig og stormfuld stjerne
Blive min Styrke

Hail Rising Sun
Powerful Great God and, Lightgiver
Shining brightly with flashes of light and crossing the sky
To conquer the blanket of the night
Terrible and Stormy Star
Become my strength."


Rising Tyr found that Fylgja had followed him and had freshly killed something. He scratched between her ears and went about to find the Elderman, looking for the house indicated by the shop keeper the night before.

Fox Foot waking brought Fylgja to full consciousness, she didn't miss a beat. Rising she chased the delicious smells of this land. In particular the fat and lazy mice she had been smelling all the night. She had twice hunted them in her dreams, each time they slipped past her. But today, she nimbly sprung from bed and caught a mouse within the minute of rising. Fresh hot blood filled her mouth, the mouse struggled feebly for an instant before being crushed in the vulpine's powerful jaw. She was still famished even after such a juicy morsel. Fylgja the shefox sniffed out her next hunt. Somewhere nearby was a pheasant. She knew it was a pheasant, it was her favorite meal. But it was also dangerous.

Fylgja crawled on her belly her mouth agape tasting the air ears perked. She could taste it, and in moments she could hear it. The tender coo, oh what a delight. Back arched she walked upon the sides of her paws, leaving neither impression nor making sound. She relaxed her tail laid flat. Listening and learning. Waiting.

Time passed and Fylgja sprung forward silently, a crimson bolt in the heather. She caught the sleeping pheasant moments before sunrise, it died instantly she devoured the soft parts. But did not bother with the meat on the bone. Licking her greedy chops clean of the blood.

She heard The Healer moving and immediately abandoned her hunt. Springing over the grassland to his front as he knelt making strange, even for the strange thing he was, noises. She stared at him, unblinking for quite some time. Wondering what would possess the ape to be making such racket. From beneath the buzz of his chanting she could hear his heart, it was much slower now than when he was sleeping. "Eee-hee." She spoke, but he did not seem to understand. Fylgja waited for The Healer to wake from his inscrutable trance. Pawing at the dirt to clean her paws.

When he finally woke she pushed her head into his palm, nipped his wrist lightly and spun three circles in excitement. Then proceeded to dance, trotting from foot to foot as they walked.

Thorbjorn roused and grumbled as he did so. He began his day like any other day, hungry, enraged, wild. As The Healer walked away from him the Bison lumbered eating grass with every step. Stomping upon and eating a small snake that cross its path. The Bison chuffed at the sensation of grinding the snakes bones into the sweet blue grass.

It took six more strides and chomped down on an oily looking bush that smelled savory to the Bison. Young juniper. It decided it didn't care much for the taste but chewed and swallowed anyway. Ten more strides he had covered half the distance from The Healer. It was young, that much was now clear. A juvenile, but a massive specimen. Stronger and hardier than any bull.

It spotted a lizard and charged, thunderous hooves that came to a sudden stop as the Bison leapt and snapped. Missing. The swift lizard darted away. Thorbjorn roared in frustration, it was a terrible dreadful noise. It bucked several times stomping out its anger into the ground. When it's tantrum finished, it headed directly for Tyr.

It bleated, lamenting to Tyr. "Hmaooo! Mrghnn-oof." It was crying snorting and in a froth, but shedding tears. It easily overtook Tyr and stomped into his way. Turning to the side he offered his flank. And The Healer nimbly hopped into the saddle. Thorbjorn visibly calmed as he took the weight. It was obvious the animal was deeply comforted by The Healer's presence. It bit a chunk out of a licorice scrub as they rode to the Elder Halfings house.

The morning comes far too soon, and the light peeking through the window brings with it pain. Baelrick winces at the sunshine that robs him of energy and instills a pounding headache within him. He grumbles as he rises, searching for some water to splash on his face as well as drink. Stumbling out into the hall, seemingly does everything in his power to worsen the headache by managing to hit his head several times along the way.

His new friend the elf is waiting for him, seemingly less hungover. Of all the gifts the fair folk had, this was the least fair. Sure, he may be suffering inside, but he didn't look it. Baelrick listens to the reasonable question before shaking his head. "If there was a bounty, they would have a direction. They know not where their kin have disappeared to, hence no leads for us other than Snake's Demise. I'm sure the halfling is already impatiently waiting."

Eventually, he makes his way out into the day with a hunk of bread and some hard cheese. Remembering (somewhat) the map that the halfling had shown the night before, Baelrick begins working his way in that direction. First, though, he stops at the stables to collect his stubborn mule and cart. Why walk when he can ride?

Peli wakes up shortly before the sun rises, and after her usual morning ritual sets out to prepare breakfast. True to her word, she has made dough for a pie yesterday and now it is ready to bake into a pie - it would be a small pie, otherwise it would be impossible to do with a campfire alone, but she hopes that Daglin enjoys it nevertheless. Admittedly she doesn't know much about dwarven cuisine, but surely pies exist everywhere...

She also makes a variety of other fare for the elf and the human from the tavern - really should've asked their names yesterday, - alternating dishes between roasted meats and vegetable salads in case one of them isn't fond of either. Only when she is satisfied with the amount of food does Peli pause her activity to go and check on the one who stayed camping with her.

"Artur, are you up? I made breakfast! No one else is here yet, so I was thinking of going to see if Fox Foot is around."

Peli puts a finger on her chin and looks thoughtful. "Tyr? Do you mean the guy with a bison and a fox? He told me that he is called Fox Foot back at the market - which is a bit of a funny name, but I like it! Did he introduce himself differently to you?" She shrugs. "Maybe he has many names! Anyway, I'll go seek him out, can you watch over the camp in the meantime? Or you can go look, and I'll stay!"

Tyr found he liked the purple thatch growing just about everywhere in the settlement. It was sweet and savory, good spice. He reached into his satchel and pulled a bit of dried fish flakes. There were quite a number of houses with flowers in the window.

He remembered what the Elf described them as well enough. Trying to identify them at a distance was a challenge.

Tyr fixes himself another small portion of dried fish and milk thistle. This time he pinches some fish bones onto the mix, a kind of dry fish cake. He sups, feeding a morsel to Fylgja and allowing Thorbjorn to meander as he grazed on the tall grass nearby the Elder's hut.

Tyr wondered how a man earned the name Fimbulbottom, he conjured it must've been a title like his own. Fimbul meaning powerful in his own tongue. Reasoning that he must be at least similar to Harald Foulfart, a king of the Numenoreans in the recent past.

Tyr had an uncanny ability to remain undetected. He wasn't hiding, it was just the grace with which he rode, and moved. It tricked the eye into thinking nothing was occurring. Thorbjorn's own painted fur, in the patterns of grass and wildflowers helped to obscure him at a distance.

Tyr offered Fylgja a magic mushroom, but having just eaten her fill she turned her nose up to it. Tyr instead ate it himself and waited for The Elder to finish his breakfast. He meditated, listening to the towns folk. The talk pertaining to disappearances all mentioned "Snakes Demise" the word sent a chill down his spine. For he had been born under the omen of the Snake, and such an omen did not occur coincidentally.

After some time waiting he saw that Peli was following Thorbjorn's trail and waved at her from a distance. The mushroom had just began to effect him. His vision sharpened, senses at their peak, except for his sense of smell all he could smell was the spore of the mushroom as it consumed the water and food. Tyr having taken many such magic mushrooms before belched as soon as the need arose. It combatted the nausea of having his senses heightened. The feeling passed moments later, and Tyr found himself treated to a warm buzz through his aching limbs. The colors were brighter and sounds more clear than ever. This brought a grin to his face. It was truly a magnificent day.

Thallan greets the Halfling Peli with a quarter bow and nod.
"Pardons milady, I have failed to introduce myslef. I am Thallan Utinu En' Thrallin, Taren En' I' Tiresten Shallin, Taur'ohtar En' I' Mor Searin, of Elduin, but you may call me Thallan if you find it easier on the palate. I see you've made a fine spread here and I suppose we are to partake of it. I do not wish to offend thee milady, so if I may, I shall have that which you've prepared with so gentle and generous a heart."
Thallan sits and eats his fill so as not to get off on the wrong foot with those who intend to journey to Snake's Demise.

After, he greets Artur:
"Sir, I see by your accoutrements and armor that you are a sworn man. You've given the Oath of a Knight I assume. I've also given my Oath as a Ranger of the Black Arrows. Ours is to protect the good folk of the forest's edge, the forest itself, and to rid any blight, be it monster or man by sword or any means including the sacrifice of my own life. Yes, I am somewhat given to drink and my nature is less than polished, but I usually travel alone. Bandits make no fuss who they leave lying in the shadows of the forest. But I digress. I believe we are on the same path and so you have my hands, be they used to save life or to deliver those over to death's hands whom fate has decreed. Forgive me if I forget my manners...hehe." He bows with a fist in his hand as a sign of his bond to join the knight in his current quest.

Baelrick follows Thallan, not rising from his cart. The seat had already been worn to the shape of his generous buttocks. "And I am Baelrick. Just Baelrick. No oath have I sworn, nor family name do I hold. I have oft been called Tawdry, or Fat Pilgrim. As I said, I assume, last night, I seek the town's hedge wizard. For my own reasons." The rotund man seems rather taciturn this morning, a stark difference from the boisterous man the night before. Then again, who wouldn't be with a hangover the size of his?

Daglin simply followed his companions from the inn to the rendezvous point. He politely introduces himself as a dwarven blacksmith, without much fuss, and readily accepts the food presented to him, with a smile.

A dwarf of a few words, he notices that the people around like to talk, so he lets them and listens to everything with interest.

When he could tolerate the wait no longer, Tyr dismounted and allowed Thorbjorn to graze as he might. Carrying Fylgja on his shoulders he scratched her neck eliciting a sound not unlike laughter from the shefox.

Tyr walked very slowly to the door of "Fimbulbottom's" abode and gave three distinct knocks.

"Good morning, I am looking for the Fimbulbottom. Regarding the disappearance of your townsfolk and a certain Snake's Demise."

Tyr tried to give his most courteous smile and bowed trying to make a good impression.

Tyr upon meeting the elder offered him his only real thing of value. A parcel of dried mushrooms. "Hail Wise One." He said in reverence and bowed his head. "I gift you magic mushrooms in thanks for allowing me your time. They will open your mind and senses for a half day." He placed Fylgja on the floor and sat next to her. "I am Tyr Called Fox-Foot. The She-Fox is named Fylgja."

As he scratched between Fylgja's ears he listened carefully to the ancient hobbit and when indicated he asked what bothered him. "I seek to know what, and where it is. As well as the name of its legend. And if there have been disappearances like these in the past." Tyr used to spending long periods seated and listening kept his attentive ears open for The "Fimbulbottom" to instruct him. His head was bowed and he did not make eye contact, for in his culture the ancient were highly revered. Tyr seldom met grey haired people, due to the longevity of his own race - they all bore important wisdom.

Peli is about to follow Tyr, whom she notices after the man waves to her, but then the arrival of Thallan, Baelrick and Daglin promptly distracts her from the idea, and between introduction and breakfast the halfling decides to leave the odd man to his devices, hoping that he himself finds them later. Although he didn't formally agree to join, he didn't seem opposed either, after all!

"Don't be shy, I have a lot of food for everyone! Baelrick, do you want to try this here salad? I heard that lettuce - and greens in general, - are good against hangover! Although the man I heard it from was drunk himself, so I wouldn't bet on it. And Daglin, I made you a pie! I hope you like it!" Peli is delighted to share with the others and happily joins them in conversation as well - nothing is more pleasant than good company and good meal combined, and it's been a while since she had the former.

She looks up once Artur mentions yesterday's confrontation, and waves her hand. "Thank you, but it is alright, Artur, I am sure it was just a misunderstanding! Flaring tempers, all that?" Peli reaches over to pet Bean, who has curled up by her feet and wags his tail in response. "Speaking of, I wanted to ask something about yesterday too, Thallan! You threatened to remove my finger, but you were wielding a bow. Does it mean you can cut off a finger with an arrow?"

"Well, to be honest, (he says between bites) I've never (munch, munch) tried it before. (pauses to think and chew, sips some hot tea)

I guess (munch) all things considered (munch, munch) it's quite possible (munch, munch)...

by the way (munch, munch)

YOU...ARE (munch, munch)...AN...EXCELLENT (munch, munch, munch) CHEF!" he swallows some hot tea with honey.

"As I mentioned, we were in the heat of things.

A little one came running into the tavern frightened as all get out, and so we didn't know whether we faced man or beast. According to the tike's description, yon wildling is quite a terrifying site, those children probably had nightmares, the man was woefully ignorant of the fact he sent little children running away in terror.

I only wanted to protect these good people from harm. My good graces do not extend to my enemies, which I perceived him to be until I realized he meant no harm. Please forgive my enthusiasm at that moment.

When I saw that the man had not noticed that he frightens children, I chalked it up to ignorance, on his part and mine...mostly his of course.

I firmly believe the little ones should remain innocent for as long as possible, in this world there is enough darkness for all of us.

FINE FAIR! Umh,umh, umh! Good stuff! Thanks again milady...Wheatstalk, if I remember correctly." he smiles, satisfied and bows again to her, in the casual fashion of nobility, rather than the extravagant ones he saves for his queen.

Baelrick laughs off the situation, seemingly unconcerned by the Knight's worry about violence against the holding. "I've only one finger for the elves, and I dare say they'd try to dismember it if I ever presented!"

He helps himself to the fare provided by the halfling. It was indeed quite delicious! If he had learned anything in his journeys, a skilled chef was worth a dozen armed guards. She would be a welcome addition to his coterie.

"I thank you for your time and tale. It has given me much to think about. It is my aim to go investigate." Tyr said and as if on queue he heard the commotion from outside the residence. "I beg your Pardon, I believe that racket is my responsibility and must make haste." Tyr rose and scooped Fylgja up before she moved to explore the halflings house. "I can see food is the boon of your culture, when next I am at your door I will carry plenty of it." He bowed and carefully rose thanking the younger halfling as well not wishing to wear out his welcome.

Baelrick is about to open his mouth with some smart remark about the painted bison (that's what the man called it, right?) when suddenly the wild man burst from a home and scurries to it, defending the creature from the diminutive woman. Naturally, Baelrick returns to his biscuits. Nothing to see there.

"I assume, then, we are depart for Snake's Demise once the food is gone? I fear my welcome in this town may be waning."

"Aye, you have the right of it Baelrick. If I stay here any longer, I might have to find a lascivious woman. Even an elf has to slake his thirst for other things from time to time! Ha!"

It became rather obvious with his docile nature the massive creature was barely a yearling though an impressive specimen. It lowed, agitated by the loud noise. And even turned to a false charge. When that didn't deter the halfling woman the Bison lowed again, it sounded quite afraid.

Tyr didn't even have to call Thorbjorn, when the Bison saw him it fled from the halfling woman. By the sounds of the distress call it made, it was clear Tyr had imprinted on the Bison and whatever he did had made quite the impression. It was hiding behind Tyr putting him between his head and the halfling woman.

"Ah you are quite fearsome and fearless good woman. "

After collecting the Bison he herded it back to the group and told him what he had learned from the "Fimbulbottom."

Baelrick scratches at his beard while Tyr speaks, small flecks of remaining biscuit drifting to the ground. "So, Janos might still be there. I can see why he was so interested, if half of what you are telling us is correct. Let us be off, then, and find that magician." It is noticeable that he seems more concerned with the disappearance of Janos than of the townsfolk.

"I agree, but it begs the question: Would the missing townsfolk be found at Snake's Demise if it is indeed cursed?"
He follows along with the others but is skeptical they will find the missing halflings at Snake's Demise.

Tyr was giddy forging ahead at the front of the trail. He walked astride Thorbjorn holding his staff-sling inhand and a bag of rocks on his hip.

"Nothing grows in cursed land." Tyr said as a matter of fact. "I believe we just entered the domain of a massive Kraid."

He looked up in the trees eager and ready for something. His eyes trained for movement and signs of spoor. Searching sectors actively. Trusting that Thorbjorn would stop if he smelled the reptile, the Bison and Serpent were natural enemies.

"It's always interesting, Kraids, you never know if you're the hunter or hunted."

Not completely comfortable with travelling alongside that many folks at once but eager to participate in whatever conversations arise as they travel, Peli alternates between joining the others and wandering off to walk alongside their group, but a little way to the side. Her spirits are quite high, both from her natural tendency towards optimism and from feeling flattered at all of the compliments offered earlier to her cooking, and there is bounce in her step as she once again pops up from the undergrowth upon hearing Tyr speak.

"What is a Kraid? Is that a dragon?" She stops next to the man and joins him in looking at the trees, though likely seeing much less than him. Or is that whatever lives in sludge pits, like described in the nightmares? The scaly serpent?"

"Kraid is large hood snake." Tyr replied in his broken Mannish. He nodded to a small tree about 18 feet tall and three feet in circumference. Switching to Elvish to articulate a more complex idea. "A fully grown female grows that size. But some..."

Tyr points to a Boulder about four times the size of the Bison next to him. "There are skeletons in my homeland that size. But my people hunted them to extinction well, at least in the north." The weary tone he said it implied it was a very costly endeavor, but for a snake of that size likely necessary. "Many died young, Kraid is a very dangerous predator I just hope this one does not spit."

Daglin is happy to be accompanied by people who know their way around the open air, and can appraise the danger of the region. Even though he hasn't this expertise himself, he knows a little about the mountains themselves. He tries to think about what he can contribute given what he sees around him.

Daglin tries to get a sense of the size and shape of the original structure of the building.

Baelrick looks to the assortment of totems hung from the crumbling remnant of time long forgotten. The only sign of life in such a place. He considers the totems themselves, hoping to discern who might have placed them there. He scratches at his beard as he also fingers some bones, hemming and hawing as he slowly moves along.

"Goblins," Baelrick snarls to the group. They were on the right track, in several ways. He hadn't expected them this far out, and so he tenses his shoulders and holds his staff more sturdily.

Peli is wandering about, popping up here and there at the sides of her companions and examining the ruins with playful curiosity. She pokes at a few of totems dangling from tree branches and questions aloud: "If these are goblin totems, does it mean that they worship the snake Tyr mentioned? Or cooperate with it? It must be advantageous to have a giant serpent as an ally; I'd love to have one!" The halfling looks around and strolls closer to the wall, attention now focused on the remnants of painted warnings. "Could do without nightmares, though. Speaking of which, why aren't we feeling anything? Should we feel anything?"

She pauses, then claps her hands. "I know! We should see if there is a pit somewhere around. That was what people dream of, correct? If something is maintaining the curse, I bet it would be in a pit of sorts." Peli squats on the ground and picks a handful of soil from the closest mineral spring, commenting somewhat off-beat, mostly to herself: "I wonder if there is any clay nearby..."

"It matters not if there is a serpent. It might have killed one village to feed itself. Goblins, eat men, they probably eat halflings too." He touched Peli's shoulder as if to reassure that he didn't mean it to frighten but simply stated the facts of life. "This doesn't mean they are guilty, but it is something to consider as we investigate further. I wonder, if this Snake is a local story meant to scare childen - and this tribe of goblinfolk are the real threat. That said, reptiles prefer to pass waste in running water."

Tyr faced upstream and laid down flat at the waterside. He opened his mouth and began to take large breaths, tasting the air for the peculiar fetid stench of reptile spoor. He inhaled through his nose as well.

The dwarf takes some time to study the wall and the scenery around, taking into account the pieces information provided by his companions. He winces at the mention of goblins.

If Daglin is able to determine what was inside and what was outside the building, he tries to investigate the part that would have been inside, if it is accessible.

"Alright folks. It seems that if we want to know more about this place, we need to enter one of these mountain caves. We might make some unpleasant encounters in there..." reflects the dwarf blacksmith, hoping to gather the point of view of his companions.

"We could just wait here, hidden and reconnoiter, or observe these openings for a day to see what indeed lies within. If they be Goblins, or. Ogres, they'll likely be about at twilight or nightfall. It might allow us to form a better plan than just strolling into the unknown. Could be a bear..., what say you friends?"

"That is great wisdom Thallan. Let us build a dead fall trap at the mouth of the cave. Out of sight so those leaving cannot espy it. Does someone have a rope?"

Despite Tyr's earlier concern, Peli actually seems excited by the prospect of a halfling-eating snake; she must have strange priorities. "Ha, I'd like to see it try! It'll need to catch me first, and no one catches me unless I want them to!" She grins widely, dropping the soil she picked up and walking over to join others at the cave entrance. Bean barks his support from where he is circling around some bushes, sniffing out whatever weird trails his dog nose has found.

She stops next to Daglin, glancing at the cave with curiosity, a part of her obviously eager to go and explore. "It is probably smart to wait, but if we stay here for a day, then we'll have to spend a night in the area! I know you theorized that it is just the goblins and the snake is a myth, but the villagers seemed pretty serious when they were talking about the nightmares. And a whole wizard disappeared here! Maybe we shouldn't give these magics or curses or snakes an opportunity to affect us?" Peli trails off thoughtfully, but then shrugs with another smile. "I never dealt with goblins and curses though, so you'd know better than me!"

"The lady might be right. If we just wait outside, we might become the prey ourselves! If we want to observe the cave entrances, we might as well park the mules somewhere not to near, and take cover so as to see without being seen." Proposes the dwarf, pondering.

Baelrick grumbles as he moves the mule and cart, hiding the latter behind some nearby shrubbery and rocks. The mule he lets free in a nearby open area. It wasn't a perfect hiding spot, but it might work; especially if that damned mule was as lazy and stubborn as usual. Returning to the group, he coughs for a moment before speaking. "I know little about the construction of traps, but they might allow us to flee if numbers overwhelm us. I would suggest we use the daylight to prepare, and try to enter well before dusk. The goblins, they care little for day or night in their caves... but out here, it would be best if we could flee in the light."

Tyr sets to gather materials to build the dead fall trap.

"Did I mention to stay hidden?" Thallan raises an eyebrow, wondering if anyone heard what he said...

"You... did, actually?" Peli looks at Thallan in confusion, her eyebrows raised. "You said that we should stay hidden and reco- recoin- recone-" She groans. "And something else which sounded smart but which I never heard of! I think it meant something like watching them?" The halfling turns back towards the cave entrances, examining the darkness inside contemplatively. "I still don't think I want to be here at night..." she mutters the last part mostly to herself.

After a pause, she moves away from the caves and back towards the spring Tyr sampled before. "Anyway, I have no idea how to build traps, so I'll go make a camp instead! You left your cart over there, Baelrick, right? I can bring Tyr's bison there and watch over them while you build. Maybe cook some food... Unless there is anything you need me for? Hey, hey, Fox Foot!" She runs up after the shaman. "Would your bison listen to me if I ask him politely?"

"I wouldn't start any fires if I were you. Not if you don't want to be noticed. Smoke travels a long way as well as the smell of charred wood and food is even stronger. We eat travel rations or not at all, milady. Though I feel somewhat awkward telling you so, it could save our lives." Thallan, looks at everyone.
"I would stay behind the wall unless you want to sit and watch the caves for a few hours."
He looks for a good hiding place from which to spy the caves...

"Uh I better go with and set up camp. Thorbjorn thinks I'm his father, I think, and that keeps him well in line. But unless you're really good with animals it's best if Fylgja stays near him, she can keep him in line. Looks like slim pickings here so I'll find some suitable timber as we find a spot to camp."

"No fire, gotcha!" Peli waves at Thallan reassuringly. "I can cook some stuff without fire! Obviously it's not going to be as satiating, but trail mixes are pretty good, especially if you add some spices and maybe rehydrate some of the fruits... Tyr, do you think we can find food here, too? Berries, herbs? Maybe we can look around after setting up the camp!" She bounces on her heels, then twists so that she's facing wherever Fylgja is. "Hey, Miss Fox, are you going to help me with your bison friend, please? I can give you some jerky, if you have taste for it!"

"I'm not sure we can setup a trap without attracting attention. I'm also not sure we have the material to do so..." ponders Daglin while looking at the surrounding and watching Tyr start gathering material. "I am with the elf on this one. Maybe we should make ourselves unseen and gather intelligence before doing anything?"

Baelrick looks to the knight that had been characteristically silent. "You have been quiet, friend. What are your thoughts on the matter, as a man of the sword?"

Thallan looks for a suitable hiding place.

Tyr follows Thallan's lead and finds a bit of concealment.

"Gå! Ligge ned." Tyr motioned to Fylgja. The Vixen darted immediately into action.

Despite being nearly twenty seasons, Fylgja was in astounding physical condition. She took a silent leap from The Healer's shoulders and Fox-Footed away. She cackled as she crept, sly like she silenced herself as she saw Thorbjorn. She ran around the front of Thorbjorn and excitedly spun chuckling and yapping once. She darted off to high hanging fruit she was smelling and the Painted Bison followed in stride.



Thorbjorn plodded on behind his Herdmate, the tiny one that was devilish fast. Thorbjorn liked being fast, but he couldn't match the little one's swiftness. Fortunately she stopped and smelled the air curiously often enough for the Bison to follow.

Instincts said they were backtracking. Thorbjorn was mighty agitated by the path. He protested with a snort and stomped his lead hoof. But the Little One just cackle and spun a circle around it. Thorbjorn groaned and sighed.

When they came to the foxes destination his mood.was greatly improved by the smell of delicious purple berries. Fylgja leapt onto the Bison's shoulders and eagerly began devouring a cluster. Thorbjorn set himself to eating berries as well. Chomping eagerly, but in an alert posture. His instincts told him never to backtrack.

Peli watches with invested interest how her companions scatter around in search of hiding places, trying to remember their methods in case she ever needs to do this herself. A part of her thinks that she'd fail anyway, as sneaking around and doing an improvised stakeout seems immensely boring - but she isn't about to turn down a free demonstration!

Once the halfling is convinced that there is nothing more to watch - both Tyr and Thallan having disappeared behind boulders or bushes, - she merrily skips after Fylgja. The fox doesn't seem to like her very much yet, but the halfling is assured that some snacks will win her and her bison friend over. If not jerky, then maybe mushrooms? Berries? She should ask Fox Foot about it later... And maybe Baelrick's mule would want the veggies she brought with! She only interacted a lot with canines and birds, but surely it can't be that hard to make friends with a mule?

Bean lingers behind at first, apparently sensing the tense atmosphere of a potential ambush and intrigued by the way everyone is hiding. He sniffs suspiciously around the bush Tyr chose to camouflage in, silently judging his hiding place; he then approves it with one single bark and a wave of his short tail, before running after Peli, easily jumping over rocks and springs. The two soon disappear from view, somewhere in the direction of Baelrick's wagon, intending to spend time ensuring everyone's lunch and dinner are going to be delicious.

Daglin hides nearby either Tyr or the elf if there is enough room for him. If not, he will look for another place further away, where he can see the others at least, but not necessarily the wall breach.

Thallan signals the Dwarf over. He makes a space available for him to sit and watch so they can take turns.

As the others begin their foolish plan, Baelrick sighs and looks for a proper place to sit and wait... and dream about wine. It is hard to hide as such a giant-blooded fellow, and the ground is quite uncomfortable. Baelrick finds that he cannot stop squirming.

Hrmph! Baelrick settles into his spot with a daring glance towards any who look at him with confusion. It wasn't like he was going to hide out here anyways.

Tyr examines the bear closely, attempting to ascertain its nature. Was it the goblins pet? Or a dangerous competitor in their demense?

The big man guffaws as the bear emerges from the cave. It was no goblin, and it appeared the rest of his travelling companions were getting worked up over nothing! Sure, it could split them in twain. But only if it was really, really hungry. And suddenly his laughter stops. After all, Baelrick would make a pleasant meal for a bear...

"What now, brave companions? Shall we run in fear? Try to drop some stones on its head? Or perhaps let it wander while we finally enter yon dark cave? My buttocks grows weary of this rock."

Daglin does not know if he should be relieved or wary, but he slowly goes out of hiding. He figures that a bear would certainly not attack several humanoids if he didn't have to. "I guess we can wait for the beast to move away and have a peek...".

Thallan tries to get a hold of Daglin's belt before he slips off. "Dam!" he whispers to himself as he just misses stopping Daglin. He knocks his bow and takes the high ground on top of the stone, in case the bear attacks Daglin.

Peli is blissfully unaware of what is happening at the cave entrance until Bean starts growling and all other animals appear various degrees of stressed. That actually prompts the halfling to abandon cooking and make her way back towards her companions, sticking her head out of the bushes. "Hey, Thallan was correct about it being a bear lair!" She notes aloud, seeing as everyone else are already out in the open and decidedly not stealthy. "But it can't be the source of nightmares...right? Unless it's a cursed bear?"

Peli watches the animal for a moment longer, then glances over her shoulder back at the clearing housing their "camp". "Do you think it will leave if we just don't bother it? We should probably move back to assude it from going after the bison and the mule."

"Wildling, you seem to know your way around an animal. Perhaps convince it to find berries elsewhere?" Despite Tyr's claims otherwise, it would see Baelrick still saw the man as something... lesser. Perhaps in time he would change his mind.

The bear looked delicious. Massive well fed, fat, and beautiful. Tyr didn't understand what Baelrick meant by convincing it away but was of the opinion that this close they could all take it with a surprise attack. He took three smooth stones from his pouch and loaded one into the slingstaff. Signing that everyone should ready themselves he looked for a point of egress that would suit and the took aim for the bear's skull.

Tyr planted both feet, taking a deep breath as he aimed for the bone at the base of the bear's enormous skull. It was a proud and magnificent creature. Not a Grizzly Bear, A Fellgrim Black Bear. Ordinarily only the size of a man, this magnificent creature had to have smelled them. It didn't care, and that alone made it a threat to all the creatures that lived so far.

"Beauteous creature
It's time you give up your throne
You are no forest God
I know Her Personally
Go to her with my blessing."

Tyr pushed his toes into the dirt bringing tension through his entire body. He waited for the opportunity. The bear lowered its head. With all the speed and grace of an Elf Tyr stepped into the mighty throw. And the stone hit the bear before the screaming sound of the shot.

"Wait, are you sure you wanna do tha... Hey! Hum..." Mumbles the dwarf, but too late to prevent the warrior from throwing his rock at the bear. In his defense he didn't think he would actually do that, as it came out of the blue. Daglin looks anxiously at the bear, then at his other companions, lost for words.

Slingstaff Damage

"Ah yes. Randomizer are why I rules lawyer"

Watching the sling stone whizz through the air and get lost within the bear's hair, Baelrick can't help but guffaw while holding his belly. This wildling was so intent on his path, and was apparently doing everything in his power to be mauled by a bear. Did it even recognize the man as a threat?!

Sigh. It would not do to allow his... ally, perhaps, to be mauled by a wild animal. But perhaps there was a way to just scare it off, rather than have to fight the creature. Baelrick rises from his stone perch to his full height, raises his arms, and starts hooting and hollering! He bangs his hefty staff upon the rock, waving his arms, showing his own size against the bear. With any luck, the animal will be frightened off... or at least decide the group isn't worth tangling with.

Walking back to the rest of the group, the others can hear Baelrick working on names for himself. '...bear bane? No... Bearscarer? Not sure about that one... Beastwarden? I feel like I've heard that befo...'"There. We have death with the creature of the cave. I doubt goblins would have been so quiet. Perhaps we continue on, and look for their true lair?'

"Good that you scared it off. I was going to bait it to charge you otherwise." Tyr said matter of factly and then retrieved his rock.

"Tis a foul breath indeed that causes a bear to walk away from a sure meal! Baelrick the BearMaster! Ha! I jest, but I am sincerely grateful not to have to fight that beast. Baelrick, there is more to you than meets the eye."

Daglin looks at Baelrick, astonished, then at Tyr, still a bit furious. He wants to start talking three times without really finding the words to say. He finally says: "You lot are incredible. One never knows what you'll come up with!" Then he laughs and adds: "I guess we will have to walk a bit further to find the real enemy. We better get going."

Peli watches the entire bear interaction with a mixture of awe and befuddlement on her face. Picking fights with wild bears and then screaming at said wild bears - and actually scaring them off! - is so far away from what she thinks a sensible person should be doing, that it is almost impressive. Is this what peoples other than halflings do out in the wilderness? Antagonize wildlife? And her family keeps telling her that she is careless!

"This was great!" She jumps out of the bushes, Bean warily following at her heels. "Did you know that it'll run away? Are you a bear whisperer?" The halfling then turns and points at the caves. "And shouldn't we explore these first? Even if it's just a lair, it can have clues!" Her eyes sparkle with enthusiasm as she immediately walks over to the cave entrances. "I can check them out while you go ahead!"

Baelrick seems to inflate at the praise. As though he could get any bigger. He looka between the halfling and the cave before speaking. "If you wish to explore it, then we shall wait here. I've long heard that halfings make good burglars, from acquaintances of mine. We would not leave you behind, little one. After all, who then would make breakfast?"

Tyr had already lost interest in the bear. And began collecting a brand of sticks. Tying them together with pine branches. These he wrapped around the forked base of his slingstaff. From one of his pockets he produced a fine red sand and sprinkling it in the kindling struck it with his flint and steel.

"Bjornberken." He chuckles under his breath. But Baelric certainly had impressed him.

"I'm with Baelrick. If you want to explore, we will wait here. Not sure it is a good idea for any of us to go with you if you want to stay unnoticed..." says the dwarf.

"Alright, I'll be quick!" Peli waves at them and quickly makes her way to the rocky slope leading to the caves, Bean silently following. Upon reaching the mouth of the cave, she looks contemplatively between the two entrances then chooses the one next to the totem - after all, the other one is probably smaller and will be faster to check afterwards.

Despite what Daglin assumed her intentions were, Peli hardly tries to be quiet. The halfling knows she isn't stealthy, so attempting to be so would be an exercise in frustration worse than haggling with her cousins. Nevertheless she at least attempts to stay next to the cave wall as to not get lost, and listens for her dog companion - if there is anyone dangerous she can't see, Peli trusts Bean to warn her.

"Hu, what's that?" says Daglin, bringing out his weapon and ready to jump into the cave.

Baelrick hops from his rock and rushes to the cave entrance with stout staff in hand. Despite his gruff exterior, he appreciated the enthusiasm of the wee one. It wouldn't do for her to be eaten by goblins just yet.

Tyr didn't want to add any more of the red sand, so he stuck his bare hand into the smoldering pile and removed the mass choking the fire. Heedless of the burn. He then waved the firebrand in the air to make it burn hotter, faster. Swinging it rapidly as it burst into a yellow blaze.

"Would you stop playing with your sticks? There be goblins afoot," Baelrick calls out to Tyr, not quite understanding what the man was trying to do.

Tyr growled furiously, it wasn't the sound of a gentle human but an enormous frustrated ape. It wasn't as easy as it looked or as safe.

"Can you see in the pitch black?"

"Yeep!" Peli yelps as the spear hits the wall to the left from her, a sharp clank against the stone. Now, usually she would be up for a friendly brawl, despite her lack of skills in combat - but these particular fellows are looking very much not friendly, and the halfling is not about to try her dagger against an assortment of spears.

"Hey, hey, I found the goblins!" She calls out loudly to her companions while simultaneously scrambling back towards the entrance and reaching for her scimitar, Bean faithfully keeping at her side. "They do not want my presense, at all, so I am retreating! That's the word, right?! There are..." Peli looks over her shoulder, quickly counting the opponents. "Five, I think! And they have spears!"

"Looks like they're coming to us, friend," Baelrick says to Tyr as he takes a position near the cave. The rotund man takes his staff into what he considers a fighting stance (others may disagree) and waits for the first goblin to emerge.

Though it is tempting to charge into the cave to display his superior skill and power, Baelrick instead pauses and waits, hoping to see what the goblins decide. After all, it was better to fight out here in the light, than in the cave in the dark. And to let them come to him. Tire their little legs out instead.

Tyr continues struggling to build a fire. It finally ignites and pitch and sap crackles and pops as he heads to the mouth of the cave. Lights one of his torches, then throws the burning bundle at the goblins, sending a shower of sparks and fire at them.

Despite his size, Baelrick proves to be surprisingly nimble! As the goblin rushes in with its poking stick, the man attempts to dive out of the way! If only that blasted Tyr weren't in the way! Baelrick nearly catches his beard ablaze as he moves, stopping just in time to trade an encounter with the firebrand for one with the spear!

Tyr nimbly leaps to try to avoid the spear.

Peli, alarmed by the movement at her left, glances quickly at where Baelrick and Tyr seem to be... performing some ritualistic fire dance to confuse the goblins, she guesses? It looks chaotic and doesn't seem to work as intended, seeing as the shaman takes a hit into his side!

"Tyr! Hold on, we've got it! Bean, sic 'em!" The halfling yells as she dashes forward and tries to strike the attacker with her scimitar in a wide swing, her dog simultaneously aiming to bite at the goblin's ankles.

Tyr fell back from the goblin clutching the wound in his side. He leaned heavily on his slingstaff muttering what could only have been a prayer in his tongue that was a strange mix of ancient Elvish and something older, a guttural language that could be felt in the blood of all men.

"Du har sået til de Berje, hvor du sidder der.
Du hoster domols de Sunn ohfangn, og har sat månen og de stjerne på en sådan måde, at jeg ikke altid ham finne.
Du såede em is, hvor et woose sull, og aach, at et er i mit blod.
Du bryder viljen og sætter den i stykker.
Doust en hammer, som et sværd
Tag mig udenfor, og sæt mit sværd sammen, meget tæt på, og på en sådan måde, at jeg ikke kunne forhekse mig."

"You have sown the mountains, and from them you see all.
You initiated the sun and set the moon and the stars in such a way that I can always find home.
You sowed the iron, within the stone and in my blood.
You break my will and set it right, to hammer me into your sword.
Take me apart and remake me, wholly new that I never again may be broken."

With all the fuss going around, Daglin loses not time to bring his shield and hatchet in hand and hack at the nearest goblin. "So you were hiding in there after all?" he mumbles to himself while attempting to strike.

As the goblins enter his reach, the massive frame of Baelrick moves into action. His heavy-headed staff rises into the air as if trying to reach the heavens, then drops back down to the mortal realm... More specifically, the realm of a goblin's skull.

With a twist of the heel that seems uncharacteristic for a man of his size, Baelrick takes his wooden stave once more and swings to wollop the remaining goblin. Nasty buggers, too dangerous to be left alive!

Given the likelihood of more creatures lurking within the cave waiting to pounce, the fat man ducks back behind the dwarf to await their inevitable charge.

Tyr's prayers had a result, light erupts from the wound sealing it in an instant. From the brink of death he kept a defensive posture and stared balefully at the goblin who had stabbed him. "I am Tyr Foxfoot, son of Bestla, Called Lightbringer. Go back to the Shadow!"

Peli yells in excitement as she sees the goblin charge at her, adrenaline making her forget all of her previous reservations against engaging in a fight. And this time it were the goblins who attacked them first, so the halfling feels much less sympathy for them than for the bear - which contributes significantly to the glee with which she raises her scimitar, prepared to parry the spear-wielding opponent. Not the best matchup of weapons, perhaps, but it will be all the more impressive if she succeeds! Before even registering the result of their clash, Peli immediately goes on the attack, swinging her blade at the goblin with a warcry. Bean barks from below, weaving around the goblins and generally creating chaos, snapping his fangs at their legs and hands whenever possible, distracting the opponents to allow Peli to strike at them. Unfortunately it doesn't result in much success for either of them, but the experience is certainly... disordered.