It is the 2nd of Rova, 4717 Absalom Reckoning. You are in the town of Phaendar, one of the largest settlement in southern Nirmathas and the jewel of the Nesmian Plains. It is however, not particularly gem-like, nor is it even that large, having a population of 400 people, and only then when Denni Brightmorne was pregnant with twins.
Phaendar's modest claim to fame is its craftsmen, and its a noteworthy hub of handicrats - particularly leatherworking, weaving, and woodcarving. More notorious is its local cleric, the legendarily foul-mouthed Aubrin the Green. Once a Chernasardo Ranger, now a devotee of the Lucky Drunk.
Currently, it is a time of festivities as the great Market Festival has come once again. This two-day affair, held once a season gathers the folk scattered about the Nirmathan countryside to trade for supplies and raw materials - and of course to view Phaendari craftsmanship.
It is mid-afternoon and the market is in full swing. You are in the Market Green, Phaendar's commons and town centre. Merchant stalls cover the centre, offering the late summer's bounty. A few small businesses are near the square, the Taproot Inn, the Trading Company, and the town's auction house and theatre. It is currently packed with people.
Gregor and Dane walked into the marketplace, the newly-earned bag of coins tucked firmly away into their pouch. They had just under five gold to their name, and here looked like a decent enough place to spend it. The half-ettin looked about, a little more comfortable in this varied crowd than he had been in that dwarven merchant caravan he had been guarding for the past three weeks. It wasn't a bad job, but Gregor and Dane knew they stood out from the regular group of guards and mercenaries that had been hired on for the trip to Phaendar. Stood out like...well, like a giant among dwarves.
"Gregor, I smell some really good things, and is that pipes? Can we go listen to the performers? It sounds almost like a fair!"
Gregor smiled and turned to look at his brother. Dane was turning his head back and forth, trying to take in all the sounds and smells he could, making up for his blind eyes.
"Indeed, Dane, let's go find the musicians. It won't be easy, for this Market Festival is as grand as any held in even Absalom. There are jugglers and fire-breathers, and over there is a dancing bear! The stages they are erecting for the performances soar above the rooftops, and one looks to be set for a three-story castle! There are merchants and vendors selling the finest of wares, and people are gathered from what looks like every corner of the world. It is truly a wondrous sight, brother. Let's go immerse ourselves in it!"
"Wow, Gregor, that sounds amazing. I can hear all the people, and there's a fiddle now. Can we go listen to the fiddler? And Maybe dance? Maybe Krisella' here and she can dance with us. Do you think Krisella's here?"
Gregor moved off into the crowd, looking for the minstrel, not having the heart to remind Dane that Krisella, one of their few childhood friends, had died in the Darkblight outbreak that had killed their mother, and ravaged Dane.
As they moved through the crowd, standing head and shoulders above most, many people gave way or turned in haste, but more than a few met Gregor's gaze and nodded to him, and a few even smiled. Gregor and Dane had been kicking about in the Southern Fangwood and its environs for most of their life, and had made a small reputation for themselves as decent fighters, passable guards, and hearty friends to those who would chance to see beyond their appearance.
Ausk is in town to peddle his herbs and is staying with his friend Keridan.
"Ausk, I tell you, I am always glad to have you visit. I know you are always eager to get home to your family, but I do hope you stay for the whole festival. There's a dwarf I want you to meet who I am expecting to arrive soon. Name's Derrig, and he gets me things from the south like you do from the north. I don't know what I'd do if I ever lost either of your supplies!"
The affable druid leads his half-orc friend through the crowd, greeting everyone by name as he passes. Reaching a particular table, he picks up two skewers of vegetables and meat, and passes one to Ausk. He starts to get out a few coins, but the young woman at the table says, "Mister Ker, my ma would have my hide if she saw me takin' your money after you helped Granny this winter! You eat what you like, and ... what is that?!?"
Ker turns to see what the girl is staring at. Two heads stick up above the crowd, one with unseeing eyes but a look of wonder, the other more cautious but not unfriendly. "It's alright, Shanna, I'll go say hello. You just keep cooking lunch for folks."
He takes another pair of skewers and manages to sneak a few coppers onto the table while Shanna is staring at the new arrival, then leads Ausk over to where the crowd is parting.
Stepping up, he says, "Welcome to Phaedren, newcomers ... I hope you'll pardon a few stares, I can't recall ever seeing anyone like you here before. My name's Ker, and this here is my friend Ausk. Would you care for a bit of lunch?" He holds up the skewers to the giant and smiles.
Dane's head spun to face the person speaking to them, and smiled at the man's words.
"Hey, Gregor, he sounds nice. And he's offering food. Whatever it is, I bet it is delicious. Can we talk with him a while and eat with him?"
Gregor looked at the human warily. The man seemed friendly enough, but you could never tell. Dane took matters out Gregor's hands though, and waved at the newcomer...or at least where he thought the voice was coming from.
"I'm Dane, and this is my brother Gregor. Sure, we'll come eat lunch with you, and maybe talk after? We're new in town. Well, maybe not totally new. We've been here before a few times, but mostly we hand out on the outskirts of town. That's where mercenary guards hang out between jobs, right Gregor?"
Gregor hastily chimed in, "That's right, brother. Why don't we grab a bite to eat somewhere? And maybe this gentleman can tell us a bit about himself. Him and his orc friend."
Ausk grunts his greeting in a brusque tone G'day. and then to Keridan Those'r Molly Figlet's boys. Heard they got the strength of five.
To Gregor/Dane Ausk replies I's only 'aff Orc. I'll let you figure out which 'aff. and he laughs at his own semi-joke.
Ker gives the two kebabs to Gregor and Dane, and leads the way to where tables have been set up as a picnic area. Unsure if the chairs will support the brothers' weight, he decides to take a tablecloth and set it on the ground, then sits down himself.
"As I said, my name is Keridan, but folks call me Ker. I'm an herbalist, so I spend most of my time taking care of the aches and pains and bruises that go with living in a small isolated town. I've also been known to brew up a spirited libation occasionally, when I get the right grains."
He takes a bite, then asks, "Pardon if this is a bit blunt, but the truth is, I've never seen your sort before. Where are you from?"
Gregor and Dane tentatively nibbled at the skewers, then bolted down the freshly grilled meat and vegetables. "These are delicious, Ker! Where did you get them?" Dane asked when he finally had his mouth empty. He lifted an arm and used a well-worn sleeve cuff to wipe away the grease an minor amount of drool left over from their snack.
"At almost the same time, Gregor replied, "We've lived in the Fangwood for all of our lives. Born here in a town called Harner's Mill. Sounds like your half-orc friend knows of it, since he knew Ma's name. I'd like to know how you came to know about her, stranger. I'm sure as rain is wet that I've never laid eyes on you. How'd you know about our Ma?"
As the three of you converse and enjoy the snacks, it's become apparent that Gregor and Dane have attracted a lot of attention. The more polite adults are staring at anything but the half-ettin, while children are simply gawking with wide open mouths.
Phaendar doesn't really have town guards or central authority of any kind, and a certain Nirmathi spirit is to welcome all newcomers who arrive in peace, unless they're Molthuni. But children will be children.
"WHY DO YOU HAVE TWO HEADS MISTER?!"
"Shush Nodger, don't be rude to the nice... thing."
"Mama, he has two heads! I don't even know which one to be polite to!"
Another pair of children bumped into Derrig as they gleefully chased each other through Market Green. Derrig checked to make sure his purse was intact. It was--they were just having fun. Careful, there, he chided with a grin.
Derrig couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the commons so crowded. Finding Ker amidst this chaos would not be easy. Well, if he started at the Taproot, at least he could get some of what passes for ale among the humans. He counted the coins in his purse: setting aside enough to restock his antiplague, he still had enough to buy a few mugs of something drinkable. Sure, it was no Longbeard Lambic, but he could make do.
As he sipped the ale, he turned and scanned the crowd. He didn't expect to see Ker's telltale black hair, but he might get lucky. If only Ker were as tall as that young man, his head well above the sea of hair--correction, heads. Ettin blood, probably--that would explain his remarkable size, too.
The crowd gave the two-headed young man space to pass, and a polite bubble of subdued noise formed around him. In the middle of the calm, a boisterous voice called out,"Would you care for a bit of lunch?"
Aye, that would be Ker--never met a stranger, that one. As they headed towards the picnic tables, Derrig downed the rest of his beer in one breath and gave the barmaid a parting wink along with the three extra coppers. Then he started maneuvering through the cloud after his friend.
He lost them for a few moments, then finally spotted them sitting on the ground, the half ettin, Ker, and a half orc he had seen once or twice before--Auks? Ausk? Something like that. He lurked until there was a pause in the conversation.
Ker--there you are! Well met, my friend.
"Well, there's the Old Man himself! Come on over! You remember Ausk ... and this is Gregor and Dane. They just arrived today and I wanted to make them feel at home."
He looks around and catches a teen trying not to look like he's staring at the two-headed man. "Anthony! Put your eyeballs back in your head and come here."
When the boy finally makes it over, Ker hands him a small stack of coppers and the now-empty skewers. "Run over to Shanna and ask her to cook us up another dozen. There should be enough there for you to get one for yourself, too. Hurry along!"
He smiles as the young man runs off, then turns back to his old friend. "How are things in the mountains? Any news from your citadel?"
Errybody in the Fangwood knows who Molly Figlet an er two headed boy is.. Ausk says I traded with my own ma down that way a few times. You came up inna conversation I 'magine.
No, no word. With the Molthunis camped out there, it's hard to even get close. The old dwarf looked askance at the hard ground.
Not sure if I could get back up if I sat down there. He pulled a chair over, settled into it, and nodded to the ettin. So which of you is Gregor and which is Dane?
The reply to the dwarf's question was immediate. "I'm Gregor/I'm Dane," was as close to simultaneous as it was possible to be. The two heads grinned at the evident confusion on the dwarf's face, then the blind one with the wispy hair spoke again. "Sorry, old joke, that. I'm Dane, and he's Gregor. And who are you?"
"Oh, where are my manners? Gregor and Dane, this is my friend Derrig. He's a dwarf, Dane, not sure if you can tell that from his voice or scent or something. He travels the forest and brings me herbs and plants from near the mountains, as well as news. His people have been bottled up for a while in their citadel by a Molthune siege, so he's stuck out here with us long-legs."
He looks at Gregor and Dane and adds, "Although if they had a few of you, they might be able to break through. I expect you know your way around a fight, amiright?"
As you chat, you hear a loud, boisterous voice call out. The children cheer and quickly scatter, and you see a green-clothed woman stalk over with a tankard on a chain around her neck. She uses a beautiful carved quarterstaff and is perpetually squinting. Her eyes are somewhat milky as she moves in.
"Eh? Two heads?! Well plow me like a field that's the smallest ettin I've ever seen." She veers her head around as she inspects all of you, obviously having some difficulty seeing. "Rest of you look like you've got some interesting stories to tell. Only ever met an Ettin once in my life, bastard was nigh on twenty feet tall! Had to sneak past him and rescue the fair maiden Arielana - biggest t@&! I've ever seen on an elf, that one. Fwoah! You hear me there?"
She leans in, grinning wickedly at all of you. She seems a little drunk. "So in order to get past, I threw my voice like - kept making one head think the other was arguing with him. Started simple like..."
The woman clears her throat, and then speaks in a booming, gravelly voice. "'You ever think 'bout them sheep there? Like a lady?' Well they just get started, turns out they hadn't thought of having a go at one of them sheep but by the Lucky Drunk the other head was upset. So they both start shouting that the other one had done it - thankfully they was loud so I didn't give myself away laughing 'till I pissed meself. They started punching eacha the heads, and I gets in and out with my elf girl."
She awkwardly tucks her staff under her arm and thrusts out a hand to all of you. "Sorry if the story was of offense Mr. Tiny Ettin, but first thing I thought of. Name's Aubrin though folks around here call me Abby."
Ausk snorts at the rough humor of the priestess. He enjoys that sort of thing.
I's Ausk (OW-SKUH) Miss Abby.
Keridan shakes his head. "Abby, is that really the way to introduce yourself to someone new?"
He chuckles slightly, and reaches into a belt pouch. He hands a small envelope to Abby, adding, "If that's your state at lunch, you're going to be barely standing by dinner, and tomorrow morning you'll be in sorry shape. Mix this with some water before you go to bed, and maybe you won't hate yourself quite so much when you wake up."
He spreads his hands and looks at Ausk and Derrig. "At least you two know you'll never run out of business running herbs to Phaendar, with folks like Abby running through my supplies."
About then Anthony returns with a basket full of kebabs. Handing it to Ker, he takes one for himself before returning to his friends nearby. The druid takes one of his own, then sets the basket down in the middle of the group. "Everyone enjoy!"
"Well, if that's the best you can do, the ettin must've been really drunk then," said Dane. "Gregor is much better at throwing his voice. Half the time, I think he's on my right, when he's clearly on my left. Show her, Gregor!"
"Not now, Dane. Nice to meet you, Abby. I think I've seen you around before when we've been near town, but never really got introductions. Name's Gregor, and this is my brother Dane. We may be tiny ettins, but we're big people. Not that we intend to hurt anyone, or anything. Just some people are scared of the different."
Derrig chuckles at Dane's response to the Caydenite's story. Aye, Dane, or maybe the ettin was drunk, too. I can't imagine you being fooled by someone else pretending to be your brother.
Aubrin grins. "Well mighta found a particularly dumb one. Look folks, I'm here for a reason. Couple'a new comers in town, and particularly one that's getting stares and whispers who obviously isn't here to hurt anyone. Folks get nervous, but that's why there's a party tonight where we're all gonna get along just great. Taproot Inn around dinnertime - open bar and good cooking. Please to meet you Gregor and Dane. So all of you show up and everyone will be proud to be in the town with the ettin... ettins? NOt sure if you're plural. Whatever - get drunk and everyone'll love you. I gotta go pass out more invites. TONIGHT! Be there or I'll kill you."
Laughing, Aurbin takes off, waving her staff around and clonking a few people who she immediately starts telling stories to.
Ker waves and chuckles as the cleric moves on. "How that woman can drink like she does every day and still survive is a testament to her god."
After a bit more conversation and food, he gets up. "Well, then. Gregor, Dane, it looks like we'll be seeing you this evening. If you need anything before that, just ask anyone to find me, I'm happy to help you out. Derrig, drop by my place and we can see what you brought me and work out what I owe you. I just did the same with Ausk this morning, so I already have a grand mess in my workshop anyway, might as well add to it before I start cleaning up."
He nods amiably to the others, then makes his way through the crowd.
We'll be there. Ausk says with a toothy grin.
Derrig does his best curmudgeon act as he tries to scowl at the cleric. Child, you need to focus on what's important. If you started with open bar, you could have saved us all a lot of useless chit-chat. But he's really a terrible actor, and he breaks into a grin before he can finish "chiding" Abby.
...
Derrig is still chewing as Ker says his goodbyes. I'll come by in a bit, he mumbles behind the skewer.
==============
==============
Phaendar's Market Festival is now into the evening of its first day. It draws a crowd from all over Nirmathas, many solely to hear Aubrin the Green—the retired Chernasardo Ranger-turned-Caydenite cleric—recount bawdy tales of adventure from her youth. Outside, the celebration continues, as raucous shouts carry on the night air. You are in the Taproot Inn, a two-story building with walls of hewn timbers stained dark green, all capped with a pine shake roof. A wooden statue of a rearing grizzly bear guards the front door. Inside, the party is raging, and Aubrin is telling another tale.
"So there I am, thinking, when will I ever be able to talk to a bear again? So before the grizzly can stand back up, I turn to it and say, 'All I need is the honey. You can keep the bees!'" The room erupts into laughter as Aubrin finishes her winding story and takes another draught from her tankard. "But it’s fine now. All’s good. She named a cub after me. Someday I’m going to have to check in on little Ow Oh Gods That’s Too Many Bees."
The crowd erupts into laughter and people begin talking over one another, sharing boasts and stories.
Keridan chuckles as he soundlessly mouths the final line of Abby's story, as if he's heard it a few times before. He then adds, "Funny, when I last talked to Too Many Bees' mother, the story sounded slightly different. I'll have to go back and check on that some time."
The group demurs while a few others in the room shout out short bits of braggadocio. Aubrin laughs in good humour with the various stories before her tankard is topped off and someone pushes her into the room. She raps her staff on the floor for attention.
"All right, all right! Don’t shove," she slurs a bit. "Okay,
Cayden strike me down if this isn’t true—"
The front door explodes into flinders. A cry of agony pierces the chaos. Aubrin lies on the floor, gasping and clutching at the blood gushing from a wound in her chest. A ballista bolt still quivers in the wall behind her, having passed clean through the cleric.
Two hobgoblins in military dress stand beyond the shattered door, blades drawn. Behind them, lit by the glow of burning homes, dozens—perhaps hundreds—of hobgoblin soldiers march the street. Phaendar burns, shouts of celebration now replaced by the panicked screams of the frightened and dying. Behind them, above the flames and humble rooftops, rises a tower of black stone in the centre of the town.
The hobgoblins stalk in through the shattered door, looking around the busy inn. One grabs a nearby townsperson, slamming him against a wall as he screams.
"ON YOUR KNEES YOU DOGS! The Ironfang Legion control the town now. Get down now and be spared."
Hobgoblins
---
Gregor/Dane
Derrig
Keri
Asuk
Ausk snarls and moves to block the hobgoblins!
Youse ain't welcome here! Shove off! he draws a wicked looking axe from the floor near his feet.
Gregor and Dane spent the afternoon staying mostly on the outskirts of the festival. Only once did they really stray into the crowd, and that was after four hours of being stared at...and letting people see that they truly meant no harm.
At day's end, they followed Abby's advice and headed to the Taproot Inn, where they were surprised and delighted to be treated with as much joviality and friendly rudeness as anyone else. When asked to tell a story, after several mugs of ale, Dane agreed.
They stood, and with a loud, but pleasant childlike voice, Dane told of their first attempt at guarding a caravan. It was full of the kind of laughable goofs any first-time guardsman might have fallen prey to, told without any attempt to save Gregor and Dane's dignity, interspersed with Gregor's occasional remarks of "don't tell them that" and "stop, Dane, please" that had the crowd howling with even more laughter.
Dane finished with "...and then, that little girl looked up at Gregor and me and said 'did you ever kill anyone?' and before Gregor could say anything, I just winked at her and said 'well, maybe. They did let me cook one night'."
----------------------------
Gregor's head whipped around as the door crashed open. His eyes took in the scene, with Abby sorely wounded, and many of the drunken tavern patrons paralyzed in fear. Then, he saw the hobgoblin. In his ale-induced haze, all he saw was death. And then he succumbed to his rage.
The anger had been part of Gregor for many years, since his mother died, actually. She had been the one helping him to hold it in check, even up until the moment of her horrible death at the hands of that warlock. Her death was what had released it the first time. Now, it usually danced to his tune, and not the other way around. Alcohol weakened his hold on it, though, and he rarely drank. Tonight seemed like a decent time to do it, though, with everyone being so friendly. He should have known better.
The ettin swelled with power, veins standing out as his muscles bulged. All he could see was the nearest hobgoblin's face, and he pulled his axe up as he moved, swinging it down with all of his might.
hp: 14(16)/14(16)
conditions: rage +4 Str, +4 Con, +2 to Will saves, -2 to AC
magical effects:
rage rounds left: 5/6
heart of the fields: 1/1
"What's going on, Gregor? Is there a fight? Did you just hurt someone?" Dane's head swung about wildly.
"Abby!"
Ker leapt to his feet, old reflexes from time in battle immediately kicking in. He ran to the fallen priestess, quickly checking to ensure no large pieces of the weapon were still in the wound, then chanted in an ancient, mostly forgotten tongue. "Lig nach bhfuil do chuid créachtaí mar an deireadh inniu"
The entire room bursts into screams as people flee left and right, and the two peasants who the hobgoblins were intimidating fall to the floor, weeping. Jet, the barkeeper, grabs a huge cudgel from behind the bar, her face white with fear. While Ausk grabs his axe, Gregor rises to his full, terrifying height as the fury takes over. The axe cleaves right through the hobgoblin's collarbone and to its heart, instantly killing it.
Kerridan rushes over to Aubrin's side and casts a magical healing spell. She gasps loudly as the hole in her torso partially closes and the bleeding stops. "Wha..what's happening.." she asks in a confused rasp.
Hobgoblin
---
Gregor/Dane
Derrig
Keri
Asuk
Aubrin (staggered)
"There's a fight all right, Dane. Hobgoblins. Dozens of them! They're burning the town!"
Gregor ended his conversation with his brother in a bestial roar.
Spared--not likely! he spat. Drawing his cutlass, he steps between the two intimidated humans. Clear out of here, you too! We'll hold them off.
Derrig cursed softly as the hobgoblin ducked the swing. Even the piss-water the humans call "beer" can dull your reflexes after 6 or 7 pints, he told himself. And he was tired and still and old. Or maybe you've just lost your edge. At least he could watch his friend's backs.
Derrig stalks over to the hobgoblins, having no time for any of this crap. However, he finds himself face to face with a trained soldier, who manages to parry the attack. The hobgoblin responds with a cutting backhand, but the wily dwarf kicks out the hobgoblin's legs, causing the attack to miss.
Behind the bar, Jet inhales and exhales rapidly as she tries to work herself up to take a run at the hobgoblins.
Hobgoblin
---
Gregor/Dane
Derrig
Keri
Asuk
Aubrin (staggered)
Ausk glares balefully at the remaining Hobgoblin
You've been warned! The Curse o' Mikoman upon you!
Gregor pushed aside the man between him and the other hobgoblin. With another roar of rage, he brought his axe around in a sideways swing, aiming for the hobgoblin's unprotected side.
Dane, still looking around in various directions, said "Get 'em Gregor! Show those hobgloblins they don't mess around with the Figlet brothers, or our friends!"
hp: 14(16)/14(16)
conditions: rage +4 Str, +4 Con, +2 to Will saves, -2 to AC
magical effects:
rage rounds left: 4/6
heart of the fields: 1/1
Ten g%#%*!ned men. Ausk says in wonder, watching the half ettin shred the two Hobgoblins into a pulp.
Ow's Aubby? Ausk calls to Keridan
"AHHHH!!"
Jet leaps the bar, having finally summoned the courage to rush at the hobgoblin only to see it turned into a bloody pulp with a spectacular swing of Gregor's axe.
End of Combat
Around half of the inn has vacated, but there are still four villagers, Jet, and Aubrin in the room. Aubrin lets out a weak gasp and struggles to sit up. She casts a healing spell on herself. She is grievously injured, but stable.
Phaendar is overwhelmed with hobgoblins, marching in orderly formation as they go around town looting, slaughtering, and imprisoning the residents.
"It... it sounds like there’s an army outside the door. How did they fall on us without being seen? These damn plains are so flat you can see an elk from two days off, let alone an army!"[b/] She winces and presses her hands against the bloody hole in her chest. [b]"They sound large. Too large to fight on the ground like honest fools. We need to gather what we can, cross the bridge, and hide out in the Fangwood. I—I know a
few secrets that may keep us safe. Should probably figure out how to take down the bridge while we’re at it, else they’ll just march themselves across before we have the chance to hide."
Jet then speaks up, trying to talk her way out of her nervousness. "We need to get more villagers - the hobgoblins are all in the town centre, we can skirt around the edge. And supplies! We'll starve in the Fangwood. You two, get what you can from the larder."
Happy to follow some orders, two of the villagers get to ransacking the inn while Aubrin struggles to her feet.
Gregor and Dane flicked the gore from their axe, then slumped against one wall. The rage that had carried them through the fight left them weak in the knees and near collapse. It always happened that way, and they knew they'd recover in a bit.
just give me...a few minutes to get my strength back. That was...draining."
Gregor took the rest time to describe the scene to Dane, exaggerating only a bit, and his brother's blind eyes went wide.
"What are we going to do, Gregor? We can't fight an army?"
"We're going to do what Abby suggested; flee this place and take as many as we can with us. We'll survive, as we always do, and then we'll recover."
It took less than a minute for Gregor to feel better, enough to push to his feet and start looking around.
"Abby, where should we look for the other villagers you are talking about? Wouldn't they have left already?"
"I know what she's talking about. It's a tactic we've had to use with the Molthunes before -- retreat into the woods, regroup, and wait for a good time to return."
He looks at the others. "This isn't your fight, but we'd be grateful if you'd stay to help us."
Speaking to Abby, he says, "Curse their timing, I'm nearly out of all my healing poultices after the incident with that blasted gnome and her "automated lumber reducer". At least I have fresh supplies from Ausk and Derrig. I'll need to run by my house to get my emergency bag. Are you ok to get yourself to the meeting point?"
I don' cotton with the damn 'obgoblins. I'll see ya to the woods at least. Ausk says, mumbling a few words and sketching mystical symbols in the air. The air around him shimmers for a second as a magical ward settles itself on the half orc. Then Ausk hefts his greataxe I got this for any gobbo what thinks he can stop us.
I need to go collect my polearm and packs, Derrig tells Ker. I can follow you, Ker, then we catch up with the others.
Ker thinks for a moment, then says, "Given the state of things, I think we should stay together. People have just started getting used to Gregor and Dane, but in the panic some people might react poorly if they're out there on their own. Plus, I wouldn't mind having their axe beside me if we run into trouble on the way. Let's all go to my house to get our things, and we'll round folks up along the way to get into the woods."
Aubrin leans heavily on her staff. "Stay together, everyone. Let's get to your place, and then get to the other buildings of import in town to gather who and what we can."
Ausk hefts his own axe and prepares to get going.