[h1][center][color=gold]The Dinnin Lands Of Sand[/color][/center][/h1]
[h2][sub][center][color=gold]Ivraan and the Giant[/color][/center][/sub][/h2]
[h3][sub][center][color=gold]Drinking, Fighting and Sand![/color][/center][/sub][/h3]



[Center][i]A few hours later at the caravan's tavern[/i][/center]

“[Color=gold]And there I was! Staring death itself in its small eyes and it was afraid! Then I JUMPED with a ROAR and single handedly destroyed the throne! HA! HA! HA![/COLOR]” shouted Galaxor between large gulps of dwarven ale as he regaled the story of how he defeated the necromancer. His words were mostly slurred and way too loud, as 6 other barrels laid empty next to him. 

The crowd roared in laughter and amazement of the story that the resident giant regaled them and if they suspected or knew he embellished the story a bit, they didn't show it. 

“[color=gold]O, o, o! I got one for you! Fresh! [/color]” Galaxor shouted again over the crowd as he started singing: 

“[Color=gold]In the tomb of death,
I, Galaxor, stepped into impending doom.
Axe gripped tightly, heart pounding with cheer,
A necromancer's lair, where dread drew near.

With a roar like thunder, I charged without fear,
Slaying skeletrons, their demise drawing near.
Bones shattered beneath my relentless axe,
Leaving no trace of the undead in that desolate space.

The necromancer quivered, his dark powers fading,
My laughter echoed, victory's tune serenading.
So I raise my barrel high, a toast to triumph so grand only I could achieve it! [/color]”

Ivraan stood besides Galaxor as he was singing, a new glorious battle scar on his shoulder where he was hit by the Wraith, his first of many he had hoped. He let Galaxor revel in his glory, fully aware of how he had embellished the story a bit. Ivraan too was drinking ale like water, but somehow wasn’t showing the signs Galaxor was. When the ballad was over Ivraan raised his mug in the air for a toast. [color=ed1c24]”Hear! Hear! For triumph!”[/color]

After a little, a curious dwarf would come up to Ivraan asking him if it was true what Galaxor told them. Ivraan gave a light chuckle; [color=ed1c24]”Well, yes indeed it is true what Galaxor said. You should have seen him, his massive figure and his axe battering down upon the throne. The cries of anguish by the necromancer who was unable to stop him. I mean that was due to me and a new guy Terilu who weakened him. But without Galaxor we would be majorly fucked.”[/color]

As the evening went later and later, and the morning sun came and the ale kept flowing and flowing some got more rowdy and rowdy until a dwarf challenged Ivraan or Galaxor to a fist fight stating that they had to prove their stories true with a fight. Because there was no way they could win against so many undead if they couldn’t even beat him. Ivraan suspected jealousy and chuckled. He looked over his shoulder and saw Galaxor still hammered and thus decided to step up. Whilst he himself wasn’t in the best of shapes he could if need be clean up the alcohol rather quickly. There was however no need, as the dwarfs stubby arms couldn’t even connect with Ivraan. He chuckled and said; [color=ed1c24]”Are you even trying to hit me. Man you are slow.”[/color] That infuriated the dwarf even more. Ivraan smiled, he had totally proven his point and thus now it was time to unleash havoc; [color=ed1c24]”BAAAR BRAAAWWWLLLL!”[/color] This basically unleashed a bevy of drunken dwarves like a dam had broken down and water gushed down the river.

After a few more barrels, Galaxor finally realised that Ivraan was fighting with someone, not that Galaxor could see what. Not only was he drunk, unusually so after only a few barrels, but the dwarf was just too small.

And then he heard the words [color=ed1c24]”BAAAR BRAAAWWWLLLL!”[/color] and Galaxor sprang into action. Stumbling once or twice, he was just about to squish someone when, maybe for the better, realised that it wasn’t his place to fight the pilgrims. It wasn’t as if they were a threat for him and he [i]really[/i] couldn’t pull his punches. 

Going right next to Ivraan, Galaxor sat down and said “[color=gold]Don’t wanna kill’em but I can knock’em back. [/color]” before proving his words as he “gently” tapped an incoming fighter on the chest, throwing him back a few metres. 

Ivraan just started belly laughing at Galaxor finger flicking away dwarves. Honestly, the drunken dwarves really couldn’t touch Ivraan, their swings were maybe the most telegraphed thing since well.. The telegraph. It didn’t help their case that their arms would barely reach him. Ivraan was casually drinking from his tankard and dodging trying to exhaust the dwarves. This seemed to work at the very least on some. Slowly but surely the dwarves would start sitting back down and started cheering instead of fighting themselves. Honestly the tavern wagon was chaos, tables had been run over, chairs had been flung and there was a few centimeters of beer on the floor. Nonetheless the atmosphere within was great, everyone was having a laugh. 

At one point Ivraan stood up; [color=ed1c24]” Alright lads n lasses, that’s it for me I’m going back to my wagon and sleep. It was fun, let's do this again!” [/color] The other patrons who would continue raised their mugs, tankards, and barrels in a cheer as Ivraan left. He went back to his own wagon, chucked his clothes over a chair and ploffed onto his bed, and was gone. 

Minutes passed as Galaxor, in a dazed, knocked down dwarf after dwarf as he laughed at the tiny creatures, ‘alas, Ivraan had to stop his fun. Groaning, Galaxor shouted, a very slurred 

“[color=gold]Oh, shut it, younglin’![/color]” before downing a whole barrel in one big gulp and then dropping on the ground, deep asleep. His snores waking up even the most drunk dwarves or pilgrims that somehow managed to avoid the chaos. 

A few hours later, he’d find himself on the back of a wagon pulled by some very tired animals. A massive headache raging in, Galaxor jumped off the cart and realised that they were out of the forest already and somewhere else. Not exactly understanding where he was and with the headache doing his head in, he decided to fix the one issue he could. The hangover. ‘Thus, Galaxor made his way to the tavern wagon…only to see it closed for repairs. 

With a roar of frustration, the angry giant started moving forwards with the caravan, trying to catch a glimpse of their next destination with great hopes of new exotic alcohol he could try. 

The day after came, Ivraan woke up without a hangover. He had a massive secret, he never got one, ain’t that nice. As he peeked outside the window he saw that the Caravan had moved, the once vibrant forest had been replaced by an endless sea of sand. 

The homeland of the Dinnin, master artificers, craftsmen, and well slavers. Ivraan had run into them during his travels with the Caravan and back home at the tavern his family-owned. He never had any problems with them and actually heard a great deal of stories from a regular back home. He was really enthusiastic when he realised they'd arrived there, his explorers’ spirit brimming with passion. Luckily the Caravan had a few resident standout Dinnin, one of whom was gathering folks to take with them into the clanhold. Ivraan luckily caught up with the group which now consisted of Terilu, Gadri, and Ryt. [color=ed1c24]” Mind if I tag along for the ride? Honestly, I’m really hyped to explore and what better way than with a guide right?” [/color]

When Galaxor finally saw the sea of sand, he was first confused, then the heat hit them and he was angry. For a Stone Giant living up on the mountains at freezing temperatures his whole life, the heat of the desert was just unbearable. If he could sweat, Galaxor would’ve definitely created small rivers behind wherever he walked.

“[color=gold]Stone King, grant me strength, WHAT IS THIS HEAT!?[/color]” he shouted out loud, making a few pilgrims, the ones more used to the desert, laugh at his clear discomfort. 

Eventually, arriving at the Dinnin settlement, Galaxor saw Ivraan joining a group of pilgrims going into it. Embracing his mission, Galaxor ran towards them and without asking for permission to join them, asked out loud with a genuine and confused tone:

“[color=gold]Guys, got one for you. What’s this yellow snow that we keep stepping on? It’s HOT! [/color]”