Game Posts

Baern has watched silently as this has gone on. He did not know Clawhammer particularly well, but he can understand the respect his fellows have for their leader. As Ryyrik hands him a flask, he uncorks and raises it, echoing Ryyrik's toast sadly but confidently. Then he takes a long draught, feeling the liquor melt the ice from body and soul alike.

"What kind of a place don't have no tavern?" Ryyrik says dejectedly as he makes his way back to his appointed room, to drink in a boring, non-tavern atmosphere.

As the party lays Dirk's remains to rest, however temporary it might be, Billy plays a funeral hymn, attempting to stall for time while he thinks of words to say for the fallen Dwarf.

What can be said about Dirk Clawhammer? Billy begins, attempting to give their fallen leader something resembling a eulogy. A fine leader. I pray to Berronar Truesilver that she bring him to her bosom. He died leading us... He pauses and appears to be chewing on his own words. An uncharacteristic anger mars his usually smiling face as the words turn to ash in his mouth. He died for nothing, he says, bitterly. The "noble" Dirk was leading us to caused his death. He committed genocide out of anger and revenge. He no more cares that he caused Dirk's death than he cares for the Orcs he killed. Or for his own people whose lands he has ravaged. Amen.

He turns and walks away before Ryyrik offers up drinks, going back to see what he can do to help alleviate the suffering he witnessed.

Phineas is tempted to go after, Billy but decides to give him some space. He hopes very much that he will find peace in serving the gods and these people.

When they return to Ryyrik's room, he finds the meagre bottles of alcohol and starts pouring out rounds.

"We've all been holding ourselves together by focusing on our mission and now that it's done, we're falling apart. Maybe we got it wrong; we shouldn't be mourning for Dirk at all. Dirk is the lucky one, he's been off in the Halls of the All-Father all this time. Maybe he's down there mourning for us."

He looks at the label and reads the faded letters: Reinhel Estates Blackberry Wine. He takes a swig of the stuff, curious as to what the humans drink.

"What? Are you serious?"

He looks back at the label, confused, but finds no answers.

"It's just ... children's juice! It's gotta be less than 10% alcohol!"

Gunnar, who has joined Ryyrik and Phineas, has an idea. "If we're stuck in this ice bucket then I'm starting a distillery. Put some hair on these humans' chests. Seriously though, let's just go home."

"I'll drink to that, Gunnar!"

Home.

Ulfren waited while the others made their peace, listened as they voiced their hearts and minds. He let them depart for their own meditations while he stood at the makeshift crypt, and even gave a nod to Baern for the treeman to go his own way.

When he was left alone with Dirk, Ulfren stood in silence, hands clasped around his belt. After a minute of contemplation, he spoke quietly, "Sorry 'bout that. I know you were never one for words, but I felt the boys needed to speak. And you ain't getting any more rest 'cause I aim to say more.

"Billy said that this was a waste. He's right, in a way. We both woulda said something 'bout how no dwarf ever wasted a challenge, and a forfeit's just as good a win as hammerin' out a tight spot. But Billy's right. It's one thing for one of us to fall during battle, but the battle changed before we even got to the pitch, and now you're gone. And not just you, but a whole bunch of folk that, by all I see, ain't human. And that got me thinkin'.

"Did this ice reach the Sundershield? Me wife, me boy. Are they alive? Are they cold as the tomb, Dirk? Are they like you?"

Ulfren paused, and his words squeezed through his throat, tight and thin as though they've barely escaped his grip. "What am I going to find when I go home?"

The barbarian remained by the crypt, and shuddered quietly in the waning thaw.

Ryyrik takes a sip of the "refreshments" given "If this is the water they normally drink, any thing made by a dwarf would knock them flat." He says as he removes his hammer. He tosses the bottle into the air and takes aim at it...sending it's contents scattering amongst the room. "Dwarven drink would be wasted here, your talents would be better used back home. Back where it would be appreciated." Ryyrik plops down onto the floor, sniffs, and wipes his arm across his nose.

Before their departure from Lord Reinhel's domain, Ulfren sought to gather Dirk's body for the journey home. He requested a coffin to be built, or at the very least, some supplies in order make one with true dwarven craftsmanship. Whether made of wood or stone, Ulfren was willing to port the coffin the entire way back to the ship, and is equally prepared to do the same once on dwarven soil.

He spoke little during the sea voyage, but it was not difficult to see that Ulfren looked upon their return with trepidation. The barbarian fidgeted with little things, perhaps trying to take his mind off the many possibilities they might expect.

Now back on familiar ground, Ulfren breathed deeply. Hefting the coffin, he took a single step forward.

Ryyrik hoists the other side of Dirk's coffin, giving a nod to Ulfrin "Let's see him to a proper burial and a proper drink to his name. Then sort everything out after."

Gunnar maintains honor guard position a few steps off to the side. This is now a funeral procession.

Gunnar can't shake the feeling of unease. What if home is unrecognizable? Or home doesn't recognize them? "I seem to remember that being a bigger stream." he says quietly. "Should be even bigger with the big thaw."

Ryyrik grunts as he readjusts his grip on Dirk's casket "One could hope that our home was frozen in time with us and came out the same as we did. Maybe with the distance, they are just starting to thaw out...that would explain the lack of wildlife and a heavy stream. Aye, one could hope."

Phineas spent the majority of the sea voyage studying the oceanic life they encountered and trying to stay positive. He gave Ulfren a wide berth who he noticed seemed particularly quiet, but tried to give him a reassuring smile every now and then. However, it was his interactions with Baern that cheered him up the most. They spent many nights sparring and practicing their shapeshifting, much to the delight of the sailors, who they think might have started taking bets on the fights. It was good to see Baern in somewhat better spirits, but he could tell darkness still followed him.

Now that they arrived, the strangeness of the wild lands bothered him. His first instinct was to visit the Elves to find out what was going on, but he knew that there was no path but under the mountain for this group today. Unable to lift Dirk's coffin very effectively, he took up point and decided he would play the role of guide, and help find the easiest path for the funeral procession to embark upon.

Baern is silent as they land, though some of the brooding has left his features. He takes up a lead position in the party, scouting ahead and walking silently beside Phineas, lost in his own thoughts.