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Phase
Elite Minor
Fetzen
Half Pint
Letter Bee
Penny
Lexisheeps
spicykvnt
AlteredTundra
washcloth
Any stone sufficiently large enough could perhaps be a Stone Giant, though likely the rest of the clan were further in the maze. To the left and right were the side ridges of the crags, and above that was mostly flat ground to run over the crisscrossing stone ways within. Perhaps climbing atop that would be sufficient enough to make your way further in as a shortcut, and perhaps keep you from being under a hiding Giant, but unless the roads were very thin, you might find a crevasse you could not jump over at some point, and who knows where Calanon will be?
The Stone Giant himself looked at Nicademus, and then slowly his head turned, making the noise of a stone slab being moved, to gaze at An-Hasst. "You are a mongrel cousin to our kind. You will not be welcome within if you disturb the game." it said with a gravelly solemness. "Would a dog or coyote be welcomed into the midst of a wolf pack? Be on your guard. If you speak our language, that would be your only safety, and even then...do not trust a hope."
Argon's head bobbed and swayed, looking around as the giant spoke to them. His lengthened neck snaked down to Alice's ear. "The stone still speaks..." he hissed quietly. "Shall I sssllaaay it? We cannot devour its flesh, I do not think. Unlesss the stone is its armor Ssssss-s-s-s-s-s-s."
As it were, it seemed the giant would not impede anyone from entering. But the warning was clear, and time was running out, if Calanon was not already hurt or worse!
Geradin had plopped his rock heavy rump on a stool and called for the best beer they had, the bartender hustling over as soon as he could, not wanting to disappoint those helping the town. That and, Geradin was nearly two hundred pounds of muscle without his gear, just smooshed into a short package. Beren sat across from him, taking a water. It was hot enough to where he couldn't drink too much of it, always wanting to be healthy and strong for whatever came his way.
Beren spoke up when Settione talked. He had some insight as a native southlander. "Pelts here are plentiful, and if that wasn't enough, a lot of the exotic animal pelts in the region are highly prized up north. That's suggesting that Miss Read plans on going there soon, though. You need to maintain them I heard." he said, taking a sip of his water. He enjoyed Settione, truth be told. The priest had an intelligent, yet funny way about him. Probably funny in an accidental fashion, but still.
With that, he turned to Lenora, only to get a sudden pull from his chest. She really is beautiful, he told himself. They'd just met and he needed to remind himself of that, but he was attracted and she seemed open and friendly. He breathed in though and reined the feeling in. Now wasn't the time, nor would there probably ever be. He smiled though. "Well, I was born in the Southlands, but no, none of us have ever been here before. We just got here, actually. Decided to help out."
The east of the small hamlet was relatively quiet, save for the occasional bird chirp. A few ,militiamen milled about, and a woman strode by the entryway with a bucket of water she had taken from the well. The tanned warrior had said he would help dig another well before they left, along with the Dwarf. That would help the town immensely. Most people who lived here were refugees from other villages, trying to make a new life for themselves and their families, as most did in the Southern Continent.
Hope and despair were not far off from one another, however. One moment you have one, and then the other takes hold. The women placed the bucket down next to her small hut, only a few houses down from the small decline that led into the thick jungle, when she noticed something strange. The birds had halted their chirping. Perhaps a snake had gotten them? Whatever it was, she could not begin to understand they had fled from fear.
Three black fletched arrows flew out of the forest gloom and into two of the guards standing watch, to the horror of the other two men-at-arms, who promptly lifted their spears defensively, and backed away behind the huts. What followed was the woman's screams when she saw a horde of Rogs whooping and hollering, leaping out of the treeline with their wicked blades. Another few arrows flew, though they seemed to miss their marks, only one hitting a stray villager in the leg.
A bell soon rang, a bell that could be heard throughout the entire hamlet.
@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@BCTheEntity@Gardevoiran@IcePezz@Mortarion
The Stone Giant himself looked at Nicademus, and then slowly his head turned, making the noise of a stone slab being moved, to gaze at An-Hasst. "You are a mongrel cousin to our kind. You will not be welcome within if you disturb the game." it said with a gravelly solemness. "Would a dog or coyote be welcomed into the midst of a wolf pack? Be on your guard. If you speak our language, that would be your only safety, and even then...do not trust a hope."
Argon's head bobbed and swayed, looking around as the giant spoke to them. His lengthened neck snaked down to Alice's ear. "The stone still speaks..." he hissed quietly. "Shall I sssllaaay it? We cannot devour its flesh, I do not think. Unlesss the stone is its armor Ssssss-s-s-s-s-s-s."
As it were, it seemed the giant would not impede anyone from entering. But the warning was clear, and time was running out, if Calanon was not already hurt or worse!
Geradin had plopped his rock heavy rump on a stool and called for the best beer they had, the bartender hustling over as soon as he could, not wanting to disappoint those helping the town. That and, Geradin was nearly two hundred pounds of muscle without his gear, just smooshed into a short package. Beren sat across from him, taking a water. It was hot enough to where he couldn't drink too much of it, always wanting to be healthy and strong for whatever came his way.
Beren spoke up when Settione talked. He had some insight as a native southlander. "Pelts here are plentiful, and if that wasn't enough, a lot of the exotic animal pelts in the region are highly prized up north. That's suggesting that Miss Read plans on going there soon, though. You need to maintain them I heard." he said, taking a sip of his water. He enjoyed Settione, truth be told. The priest had an intelligent, yet funny way about him. Probably funny in an accidental fashion, but still.
With that, he turned to Lenora, only to get a sudden pull from his chest. She really is beautiful, he told himself. They'd just met and he needed to remind himself of that, but he was attracted and she seemed open and friendly. He breathed in though and reined the feeling in. Now wasn't the time, nor would there probably ever be. He smiled though. "Well, I was born in the Southlands, but no, none of us have ever been here before. We just got here, actually. Decided to help out."
The east of the small hamlet was relatively quiet, save for the occasional bird chirp. A few ,militiamen milled about, and a woman strode by the entryway with a bucket of water she had taken from the well. The tanned warrior had said he would help dig another well before they left, along with the Dwarf. That would help the town immensely. Most people who lived here were refugees from other villages, trying to make a new life for themselves and their families, as most did in the Southern Continent.
Hope and despair were not far off from one another, however. One moment you have one, and then the other takes hold. The women placed the bucket down next to her small hut, only a few houses down from the small decline that led into the thick jungle, when she noticed something strange. The birds had halted their chirping. Perhaps a snake had gotten them? Whatever it was, she could not begin to understand they had fled from fear.
Three black fletched arrows flew out of the forest gloom and into two of the guards standing watch, to the horror of the other two men-at-arms, who promptly lifted their spears defensively, and backed away behind the huts. What followed was the woman's screams when she saw a horde of Rogs whooping and hollering, leaping out of the treeline with their wicked blades. Another few arrows flew, though they seemed to miss their marks, only one hitting a stray villager in the leg.
A bell soon rang, a bell that could be heard throughout the entire hamlet.
@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@BCTheEntity@Gardevoiran@IcePezz@Mortarion