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His adventuring pack
Gärwin looked at the shimmering void for a good while before speaking to Charles again. "Oi, Charles, I'm seem t' have misplaced my only weapon, do you mind helpin' Drot'ook while I look for one?" The dwarf's voice is calm, as if any anger he may have felt has simply faded away. He searches around, looking for a weapon. He was fairly sure he'd need it soon. Finding a curved sword the one of the guards might have been carrying, he tested the edge. Still sharp. As the others continued to talk amongst themselves about the genie and what could be done, Gärwin was resolved. He took off his pack and tabard and said something to himself. "Sometimes, you must purge things from this world... even if it means losing someone you love." He'd said it dozens of times to himself and now the words rung in his head, it was time to make good and make amends. Before anyone could stop him, the dwarf leaped into the portal and was gone.
Gärwin was troubled by his lack of a beard, but more so by the charred, angry looking skin of Khatia. With his one free hand, he fished into his bag and withdrew a potion, one of the only surviving items he had. "Khatia, please, take this. It 'hurts jes to look at yah like that." His voice broke as his mind sank with guilt. She might never recover from this and it might be all my fault. His mind snapped into action, Charles had said something, something about this happening before. "What happened, Charles! Have you seen this before? How did you fix it?"
Gärwin ignored Charles and moved forward to Drot'ook's aid. "Les' get you off that leg at th' very least. I don't want you fallin' behind if we gotta make a break for it." Taking the orc's arm over his shoulders, he tries to prop up the injured orc. The dwarf looked up at the others, a grave expression on his face. "I'm not sure how much time we 'ave, but we owe it t' the people here to look for survivors."
Gärwin awoke to find the surprisingly uninjured Charles shouting at him. He'd expected this, but it still stung. "What in the 'ell were you thinking? As soon as you were done pukin' your guts out, you throw the damned mask on again! How did you THINK the people were goin' to react to a g*%#$@n flying s@#&stain? You were losing' control of yerself, and I wasn't about t' let you become the next Ankhuham or whatever the 'ell he was called!" Gärwin's helmet fell from his head, ruptured from a massive cut that had cleaved through and into the dwarf's head. As he walked, blood continued to pour from his wound, but the dwarf had nothing to say. He saw the destruction of Oasis before him, and couldn't bear to look at Charles. Was this the result of my actions? What happened to everyone else? Gärwin felt his blood run cold and he chased after the already sprinting Charles.
For Gärwin though, he succumbed to his wounds and fell unconscious. The knight had never fully recovered from the journey they had made and the collected wounds took their toll. It was up to fate now what happened to the poor dwarf.
That mask had been nothing but trouble since the day they got it. Gärwin has seen what it had done to Charles, someone who was supposed to be under some kind of deity's protection. Perhaps it would better that no one had the mask. It had to be destroyed. The day had been long for all of them, and Gärwin knew that it'd only be a matter of time before Charles fell asleep. As he waited, tension seemed to build in his mind and heart, he couldn't sleep if he tried. After what seemed like ages, it was time to make his move. The dwarf reached into his bag and withdrew a pair of manacles. He'd spent a good many days patrolling the lands around their village and he'd made arrests with no infrequence. With a practiced hand, he cuffed Charles' hands together. It was a strange feeling, to arrest someone like the priest, but it did not slow Gärwin's movements. He didn't not enjoy what he was about to do, but he told himself it was for the best. Taking the cursed mask in his hands, the dwarf fled into the night.
Gärwin grumbled back to the travesty of a man hanging from his horse. "Don't try 'n talk. This is already embarrassin' enough as it is. Focus on the road, I'll find us some shelter." The poor man was clearly a mess and it was spreading. They'd have to bathe in the morrow. Gärwin made his way through the tent city, looking for an open, unused tent. His previous experience on the lam proved useful, finding a likely spot in mere minutes. He threw, rather than pulled Charles into the tent, once more getting some of the mess on himself. Grimacing, the dwarf tied his cooking pot and what was left of his old sword together and attached it to the horse. With a hard slap, the horse took off, clanging its makeshift drum with every movement. The knight slipped into their stolen tent and prepared for what was likely to be a long night. He instinctively reached for his cigars, but they weren't there.
Even in his tired state, Gärwin knew a bad situation when he saw one. Scooping Charles onto Khatia's horse, he rides off as quickly as he can get away from the villagers. He didn't know where the others had went, but his old Outlaw instincts kicked in, and he knew it was time to get out of dodge. He hoped the others hadn't gotten themselves into trouble again.
Gärwin was more tired than he could ever remember being. It was only by some miracle he managed to stay in the saddle. Drot'ook also seemed keen to retire but Gärwin felt like he'd rather not meet the Sheik up to his ears in booze. It was best to get things done properly, even if that meant he was exhausted. "Let's get this over with, I'm not rollin' outta bed for a week."
Gärwin was done with the desert, it was well past time to go for a drink or seven. He helped pack up and said one final goodbye to his faithful horse. It was time to leave the desert behind.
"Aye, you've been good 't me Drot. Things like this just 'ave a way of happenin' without anyone's control." Gärwin takes the offered cigar and takes a long drag, coughing a little from the unfamiliar taste. Once he's had his fill, he hands the cigar back to Drot and exhales a little ring of smoke. Leaning back and watching the metal ball flit about, the dwarf thinks to himself for a time before speaking again. "Been thinkin'. I think this library we've been plannin' t' build is a lot more important than I gave it credit for. We need to start buildin' things, makin' lives better. That way they see us as more than just fighters that live jet' t' kill. Especially you Drot, real life changers made by Orcs would turn sum 'eads. I'll do what I can t' 'elp out, make the world a better place." He falls quiet for a time, then stands up again, making his way to the priest. "'Ey Charles, you got any words to say for Dumpy? I've never been one th' religious types, but I think it's only proper to get a blessin'. It'd really make me feel better for burying 'im out in some forsaken desert."
Gärwin sleeps as if he were dead, not dreaming beyond the blackness of his fatigue. When he awakes, he finds that Dumpy had not left his side the entire night, even after it had died. With a sad pat of the dead horse's nose, Gärwin blubbers a goodbye and promises himself that he'll do right by his faithful steed. He spends the rest of the morning slowly digging a makeshift grave for Dumpy, gently parting the sands for his dead horse. The dwarf lays Dumpy to rest with his saddle and all of his remaining cigars before beginning the tedious process of burying him. Once It was all done, Gärwin takes the largest troll bone he could find and leaves it as a grave marker.
Blinded, sick and more than a little tired, Gärwin was relieved for Charles' help. "Thanks Charlie, iz... iz been an experience." The dwarf barely makes it to safety before collapsing into unconsciousness once again. Dumpy walks over to the fallen dwarf and nuzzles against the back of his head, not wanting to leave the injured dwarf's side.
Gärwin burst from Khatia's grasp, rage once more flushing through his face and body. As the froth begins to once again pour from his beard maw, he leaps upon the troll's body. Sand assailed him, but in his rage, he ignored the pain and continued to cut into where he thought the body was. Eventually, the worn weapon he'd used for the past year finally called it quits under this punishment, snapping on a particularly poor swing. It was some time before he calmed down, eventually puking out the remains of the potion along with the his lunch.
The enraged dwarf snorts at the downed form of Drot'ook, the green thing had better get out of the way before he got trampled. He cursed though, as the larger foe simply shrugged off his strikes.
Gärwin attempted to kick the hindering green thing, but it suddenly sprung away with unnatural speed.
What was originally a roar of fury slowly peters into inarticulate mumbling. Froth starts to form from the dwarf's mouth as potion begins to truly affect him. Tinged with red, it looks as if his very blood was boiling out of his body. Eyes focused upon the lumbering form of a troll, Gärwin's mouth slowly turns into a snarling grin. One of his sworn enemies was before him, and he couldn't wait to see its guts spill onto the thirsting sand.
Swinging his weapon with reckless abandon, the raging dwarf strikes the troll in the gut. Instead of the practiced swings of a veteran warrior, Gärwin simply tries to overwhelm his opponent with numerous clumsy strikes. He cuts into the beast one two no, four times!
Gärwin looks at the offered vial, looking for all intents and purposes like a shot of congealed blood and hesitates. The dwarf takes the foul-looking liquid and resigns himself to whatever madness was to follow. "Aye, I guess we're nearin' the end of our rope. We'll face this threat together then." Gärwin waits for the taller one's signal before leaping out to attack.
The potion tasted far worse than Gärwin had anticipated, but the dwarf had a stomach of steel. It tasted like metal and mouldering berries mixed with tar. Shortly after ingesting the liquid, Gärwin started to sweat profusely as suddenly the world around him started to turn red. Heat flowed into his body and mind, consuming everything but the thought to kill whatever stood in his way. He no longer recognized who he was or where he was, and he didn't care. Some small part of him seemed to wither and die as he swung his blade at the orc's back.
Gärwin put a heavy hand on Tesswyn's shoulder. "He's tough, he'll make it. We just gotta dig 'im out later." But there wasn't time to grieve, something was upon them and if it destroyed the shelter they were hiding in, they could all die. Gärwin once again draws his chipped sword and straightens his battered shield. There'd be one last trial before they could make it back, and he wasn't about to give up hope. Nothing short of hell would keep him from getting everyone back home, even Charles.
Gärwin had traveled with Drot'ook long enough to recognize when the orc was in a berserk fury. Using his sturdy shield, the dwarf attempts to smash the raging orc's maul free from his hands.
The snakes were relentless in the hunger for dwarf flesh, but Gärwin wasn't about to let an overgrown earthworm get the better of him. He takes a moment to breathe, but that's all he needs. The dwarf pushes into the remaining snakes with renewed fury.
Infuriated with the opposing reptile, Gärwin strikes back at his attacker, hoping to get a small measure of revenge.
Gärwin flinches as the giant serpent lashes out at Drot. Knowing the others have difficulty with the night's darkness, he reaches into his pack and removes a torch. Lighting the torch, Gärwin waves it towards the large predator, hoping to scare it. "Step lively! There's a giant snake!"
Gärwin stifles a yawn as they rode into the night. Still battered and beaten, he reassured himself that this was the final leg of their journey and soon he could look forward to a real bed. For the dwarf, it was difficult to decide what to do first, sleep or count out the spoils of their expedition. While flattered by the orc's praise, Gärwin is well aware of the other's part in his own survival. "I 'preciate the sentiment Drot'ook, but I think I'd probably be dead without yer help. That big zombie woulda cut me down right at th' end there were it not for your masterin' the use of the mummy's scepter. Besides, Khatia owes me a favor, I think she can pay for both of us." The dwarf says the last part with a chuckle.
"Right, I'm on it." The dwarf slowly collects the startled horses, calming each one before slowly leading them to the center of their camp. By the time he had finished, most of the others seemed presentable enough and Gärwin joined them in packing up. "It's gonna be a long day, but we just might make it if we push through th' night. What'd you all think?" Gärwin places his saddle back upon his horse, getting ready to hit the road.
"Careful, there's some kinda worm thing! I only saw th' one, but he's a big sucker!" Gärwin surveys the camp, looking for where the creature might strike next.
"Dammit! it's gettin' away! Gärwin hacked at the creature as it tried to flee, burying the horse beneath the dunes.
His weapon struck the hardened outer shell of the worm and found no purchase.
The night had been rough on the dwarf, the things he'd seen the days before had started to settle into his mind. Tossing and turning, eventually exhaustion took over and the dwarf tumbled into sleep. The inky blackness of a dreamless night was comforting in a way, as he woke with a start when Khatia called him for his watch. As the night slowly changed into morning, Gärwin contemplated to himself. Cigar, as always, in his mouth. Things had changed for him quite a bit in little more than three years. Perhaps it was time to take things more seriously, look into more than just killing the demons he hated so much. He had allies and titles to his name, something the shifty outlaw of just a few years prior could only dream of."Drosva... is it alright? Maybe I should try lookin' into what I could do. Actually make plans for the future. I'd think you'd like that... I hope yeh can forgive me for the endless drinkin' and making' a fool o' meself." Trouble never waits to show up though, as the sand began to move. Gärwin stood up, at first hoping it was just a trick of the rising sun. Then, the sand parted and a great maw snapped up one of the horses. It was time to take action. "Trouble, erryone! Looks like some kinda giant worm!" Gärwin shouts and clangs his shield with the pommel of his blade. He made as much noise as a dwarf can, which is a lot. He then charged forward, hoping to somehow save the stricken horse before the creature could kill it.
Gärwin walks up to his horse and empties one of his remaining waterskins into his cooking pot, letting the horse drink. "It's good yer doin' ok. You're a good horse Dumpy." The dwarf whispers to his horse while affectionately patting its flank. Turning to their newest companion, the dwarf seems amiable. "I think it's high time we talked a bit more about ye, Sorceress. We found tha' man ye were lookin' fer. What're yah gonna dew now?" The dwarf talks as he loads his horse for travel, looking pleased with their haul.
"It's like one of those puzzle boxes, the 'ole thing looks like nonsense till it all comes together! Well inn't that neat!" Gärwin seems modestly surprised by the whole experience, but keeps his wits about him as it was time to start haulin' coin. While partially considering bringing one of the taxidermies as a sort of trophy, Gärwin is keen to return to a cool bed and a colder drink.
As the time came, Gärwin resigned himself. They had to walk through the painting room, and this time, there'd be no escaping his allies. "Alright, I'll do it, jes' pull me back if summit happens." The dwarf stands upon the throne awaiting for it to ascend. As it does, the dwarf closes his eyes and it was a couple moments before he could bear to even peek at what he was looking at, but eventually he saw what truly lay before him.
"Thanks for your concern Khatia, but I think I'm gonna be alright." Gärwin smiles at the Sorceress's fussing, but stubbornly decides to push on. He looks ready to call it a day, but the promise of treasure puts a spring in his step. Searching the coffers, the clinking of silver brings life back into the dwarf. He watches the silver flow through his hands and contemplates that this is the most money he's ever seen.
"Tess, I think it's time for that whiskey!" Gärwin exclaims, now that the danger has passed. Assuming she obliges, Gärwin eyes it thirstily before noting Charles' actions and parroting Tesswyn's sentiment.
Once the paladin had finished putting on the mask though, Gärwin was startled by Charles' sudden change in demeanor. The tired dwarf accidentally drops the whiskey and just barely manages to catch it before it hits the ground. "Jeez, an' I thought the statues were terrifyin'. They're nothin' next to that mug."
The Mummy's heavy strike caused Gärwin to stumble, but the dwarf powered through, half tumbling towards the hallway. Once he was safely behind the now controlled undead champion, Gärwin takes a moment to fish through his pack, pulling out a bottle of holy water.
"Oi Dusty! Here's a toast t' the king!" With a strong toss, the bottle flies past Drot and Charles to crash into the mask of Anak'Hainumen. On impact, the glass shatters soaking the undead creature in holy water.
The beleaguered dwarf swipes at the undead assailing him, landing a solid blow on the corrupt leader himself, but his arm gives out before striking the undead lackey. Seizing advantage of the opening, Gärwin stumbles his way over the others.
The dwarf had been focused on the mummy before him, and was caught unaware as the undead burst free behind him. The heavy stone crashed into the knight with enough force to completely bowl him over.
As he stumbled forward, Gärwin thought quickly. Grabbing onto the mummy's lower body, the dwarf leverages his lower center of gravity to toss the dried-up husk. Hopefully, the horror was cut off from its guard. "Alright, we need to regroup, get t' the corridor!"
"Phew, awright Sorceress, you can cross one of those favors off the list. Your magic really saved my bacon there." Gärwin says through staggered breaths. Taking a heavy swig of his waterskin, the dwarf seems to recover pretty well.
"Whiskey? I think we could use it right now, Tess!" Gärwin says, with a laugh and a twinkle in his eye.
"Oi! You guys aren't plannin' on leaving me down 'ere are yah?"
"Bah, I was afraid this'd happen! Nothin seems t' stay dead in this tomb." Gärwin strikes heavily into the creature holding Tesswyn, lodging his sword thoroughly into its skull. With a grunt of effort, he yanks his sword free but misses his opportunity to strike another of the horrors. Standing tall against the creatures, Gärwin stands between them and his allies.
"Careful there, Khatia, this'd be the second time I had t' catch yah! The dwarf dusts himself off, shaking tomb dust free of his beard. "Hate t' have to carry yew out of here wit' a broken leg." Calling up from the darkness, Gärwin shouts, "C'mon then, Charles! Can't leave these ladies wait for yah, right? You too, Drot! Else we might leave yew behind!" He turns to the others in the treasure room with him with a laugh. "Always spend their time thinkin' those two. Sometimes yah just need to give 'em a kick, else they stand there forever."
"Aye, a great many things. Trolls, wolves, formor, all manner of beasties try to take their piece o' dwarf." Gärwin chuckles a little before continuing. "But I suppose those aren't th' wounds yer talking' about, eh? I suppose it's been quite long enough, it can't hurt anyone anymore. I was a father once, to a rather er... special child. A cambrion." The dwarf almost instinctually fumbles for his cigars, lighting one and taking a long drag. "That thing ruined me, once everyone found out. We had to flee town wit' little more 'n what we had on our backs. I struggled to provide for the two of us with what I could scrounge up and... less savory methods. If it weren't for Ser Henrick, I'd prolly still be some lowly bandit out there. It would have been so easy to just kill the little devil and be done with it, but I couldn't." The dwarf seems far away, clutching at his cigar. Most of it is already gone, and the end burns his fingers. He throws what's left on the ground and stares at it for a moment before crushing it under his boot. "Even when the time came, I couldn't do it. Ever since then, I swore to take action, to slay hellspawn and to never hesitate." More to himself than anyone else, he adds. "Sometimes you must purge things from this world, even if it means losing the ones you love."
Gärwin accepts Khatia's gift and sleeps the rest of the weary. The hard stone of the tomb's floor left the dwarf sore, but it was nothing he hadn't done before. In waking, he felt pretty much the same as he always did, but was polite enough not to mention it to the mage. Unclasping the shining brooch, he carefully handed the gift back to her. "Here you go Khatia, it uh... worked wonders. Thanks for the 'elp." As Tesswyn climbed into the depths below, Gärwin took a moment to ready himself for the descent.
The knight slips his pack back onto his shoulders and steadies himself before rappelling down the rope with classical Dwarven technique. As he lands, the dwarf quickly makes room for the others and peers through the gloom. "Tess, I'm 'ere. Yew see anythin'?"
Gärwin takes a moment to re-cover both sarcophagi before any decision is made. "Best keep these closed then. Nothin' good's gonna come crawling' outta there." Job done, the dwarf takes a moment to shrug off his pack, at least for a little while. He reclines against the pack, half asleep already. "Bah, we can sleep 'ere. Been plenty of worse places t' camp."
Gärwin swings his weapon in a large arc, catching at least one of the undead with exceptional force! "We're almost in th' clear, now jes' drop the rest of these bastards!"
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