Game Posts

"True that," Baern says, cutting another length and using it to lash the orc's legs together. Then he too walks off towards the inland.

The friction between Druid and Dwarven ways grinds in Phineas's heart.

"So, instead killing a helpless orc we've left an old man to kill a helpless orc? Is it more sporting if the man is old or if the orc is tied up rather than frozen? Is it more just that we have given the orc a chance, however slim, to survive and kill this old man? I honestly do not understand what we have done here."

The party seems to have decided, and Phineas doesn't stand in the way of their decision, but he wonders what will happen the next time they find this scene, for there may be hundreds or thousands of orcs frozen across this island and he knows they don't have nearly enough rope.

Ulfren pulls out the broom and switches it out for his javelin. He tosses the broom aside and returns to the sled.

"Aye, that's pretty much it," Ulfren says in response to Phineas. "If either unfreeze, they will earn their place in battle. If the man lives, he lives and battles again. If the man dies, he dies with honor. Ain't no sport to be had here, though I'd have saved the rope for something useful.

"But my guess is that these folk won't wake. I figure us on the boat was saved because of that wizard we had. The more I think about it, Dirk was off the boat when he froze and only us and the crew came back. And the wizard said all his stuff had no magic anymore.

"Dirk's boots didn't save him and they still work, near as we can tell. And some of you lot still have your magic things that still work, right? The wizard's the only oddball in the whole thing."

Phineas shook his head, but decided not to voice further objections. This isn't the first time his Druidic ethics had clashed with Dwarven honour. He fought a battle like this one before with his father, and it left their relationship a desolate, lifeless battlefield. He knew how stubborn a Dwarf was with his honour, even if it didn't make one lick of sense to Phineas.

All he could do was sigh heavily. "Thank you for sharing your view, Ulfren."

Phineas rather liked the crew he was with, and it was a rare thing for him to find a place among other Dwarves. He decided that Ulfren was probably right and they'd all be frozen long enough for a more organized response to save these people. But, he resolved himself to draw a firmer line if they should encounter darker frozen tableaus.

Phineas took one last look at the old man and the orc before departing with the group.

"There are so many bodies we can't bury them all. Perhaps after we discover what happened here we can return."

"Anyone else have a bad feeling about this place thawing? We haven't found the orc army yet and I'd hate to get stuck inland when they wake up. Still, I don't see any way but forward."

"Lad, the whole place ain't nothing but a bad feeling," grunts Ulfren, pulling the sled up the rise. "Whatever happens, we deal with it like dwarves. For now we find this Lord Rain Hell or whatever his name is and figure out if we're still needed."

As he pulls the sled to follow the group, Ulfren mutters, "By my hoary backside, Dirk, I thought I told ya to lay off the sweetrolls. You weigh a ton."

Ryyrik offers his pole to Ulfren "Need a break there, friend?" he says with a smile.

"Yeah, maybe switch places if you be so kind," says Ulfren, waving away the pole as he has a quarterstaff of his own. "You pull and I push."

"Sounds good to me." Ryyrik smiles. He offers his pole to everyone else, putting it away in his bag of holding if no one accepts it, then takes up the sled.

Billy takes the pole from Ryyrik and sets out, whistling softly as he goes.

Gunnar takes up position off to the group's right flank, and keeps his head on a swivel as they travel.

As the group continues its hike, scene after scene of death and devastation begins to take its toll on the normally cheerful Billy. Each meal is prepared with less and less gusto and consumed with even less glee. His attempts to keep up the spirits of the group with music and stories and jokes become more and more strained until his raucous songs become little more than somber dirges before ceasing altogether.

The forced smile on his face has become transparent to all as he says, Make no mistake, boys, it's a bad business we're about and it's gonna get worse.

For those who have gotten to know the normally energetic and playful Dwarf, Billy's increasingly somber attitude may be even more disturbing than the frozen war zone they have found themselves in.

Baern isn't helping the mood. His face is a deadpan as ever as he trudges along, though the others catch a glimpse of searing anger on his face occasionally before it vanishes into the mask his face seems to be. He seems to have no other reaction to what is going on around him, responding when spoken to with body gestures if possible and possibly with monosyllabic comments.

Phineas isn't helping the mood either, but not for lack of trying. He tries to perk up the party with conversation, but he finds the words come out stilted and awkward. He watches as his old friend Baern's heart returns to stone, and the normally gregarious Billy grow dark and somber. Gunnar is spending more and more time afield.

Phineas decides to the best of his ability, he is going to try to sing a Dwarven song.

If they all end up laughing at me, at least they'll be laughing.

"We come from the land of the ice and snow
From the midnight sun, where the hot springs flow
The hammer of the gods
W'ell drive our ships to new lands
To fight the horde, and sing and cry
Valhalla, I am coming!"

Ulfren's mood is no different than it was when they left the ship. He trudges along and minds the sled bearing Dirk's body. The frozen statues of death and destruction elicit little reaction from the barbarian.

The song, however, does. "More from the stomach," he advises, poking himself near his diaphragm as an example of where. "But keep going. They've got to hear you."

Gunnar looks over at the others. Having served in the militia with Ulfren, he is perhaps more inured to scenes of battle than the average dwarf. The others are getting nervous, he can tell. He moves slightly farther afield, within sight but away from the singing. Truly, if there's anything at all good about this situation, it's the solitude. Not quite solitude - he can still hear the singing somewhat - but he can at least enjoy the crunching of the ice underneath his boots, in time with the steady beating of his heart.

Gunnar whistles for his companions and waves them ovrr before taking cover and peering at the house.

Baern crouches, moving towards the house.