The Black Wyrm of Brandonsford

"Fine, just remember not to try and fight any giant we encounter." Nessa mumbles, somehow expecting this venture to go horribly wrong.

The foursome moves quietly down into the clearing—if it could be called that. The felled fur trees look like they’ve been torn up, smashed down, trampled, broken and only roughly organized into piles. The rough, stump-peppered ground itself has been quite chewed up as well… perhaps from the trend of something very large. It’s not difficult to imagine a giant fifteen or more feet tall leaving the mess of tracks that mar the clearing.

From the roughly-made, over-sized cottage at the center of it all, they hear it more clearly now: snoring. Loud and resonant as thunder, but snoring. Outside the building some crude, enormous tools lean up against he wall—a club, a poking stick, a hoe. The smell from behind the cottage indicates a giant-sized latrine somewhere, and a bit of black smoke continues to wisp from the clay-brick chimney.

Peeking under the door reveals that the cottage is a single room, and that over a very large but slow-burning fire is suspended a rudimentary, often patched and soot-bottomed copper kettle that all four of the adventures could fit in at once. It’s difficult to see much more, but it does look like the more slender members of the party could actually slip under the door if they unshouldered their packs.

A boost from Gann allows Sable to look in the pane-less window, just peeking over the sill as Kitt waits nearby, quiet and wary, not liking this place very much. The place is lit by the warm light of the fire, and visible is a wooden dining table, the aforementioned fire and pot, and a sack sat against the wall. Steam rattles the kettle lid a bit; it must contain boiling water… and from the smell, vegetables.

Asleep in an enormous chair is a giant, bushy-haired, stinky, and wearing yellow-brown homemade clothing. His big, ugly head slumps to one side as he snores, wheezes, and makes other very loud mouth noises. A large golden necklace hangs around his neck, and as Sable watches… the sack against the wall moves slightly.

Wren whispers, "So... we should sneak in, yeah? Maybe check on that sack? But stay quiet!"

Sable lithely jumps down and conveys what he saw. He nods at Wren's conclusion that the sack is their target. He keeps his voice to a whisper the whole time like his companions.

"I'll set a trap for that giant if he chases us out the door. Whoever grabs the sack, make sure to keep what is inside quiet."

The prowler takes out his spike and cord, setting up a makeshift trap as he is used to between two stumps on a path out the door.

"We need to pick a place to meet up if we run."

Wren says, "Let's meet back where Gann almost lost his helmet. That's not too far. And yeah, OK, I'm going for the sack. Let's go..."

Wren slides off her backpack and heads toward the door, intending to squeeze under.

"You get it down quietly, but you’ll need me to carry it." Gann says to Wren, shrugging off his pack as well and heading inside with her.

He moves as little as possible, staying as close as he can to the wall. The two look a bit silly now, dressed as shrubs inside the house.

"Right, should he wake up, I'll try and distract him. Maybe it will buy you a few seconds." Nessa whispers and positions herself beneath the window, picking up whatever stones and loose branches she can find here.