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Heilbutt

The warrior broke his silence after listening to Zoltan and Seyja ahead.

"I am no orc! I am a son of the Wake!" He growled angrily.

"My mother and father were human. Fuldroik says that the half-orc's are nature's remedy to the orc and some day we will be called.

"When that days comes, I will answer the call, but it had better be a call to war for I will not parley with any foul, stinking orc!!"

His neck was red and he sounded like he meant it.

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Nestaron

As the afternoon had worn on, his tiredness grew but so did his atunement to his surroundings and his enjoyment of them.

The smell of the forest close by, the freshness of the waters, all heightened by the heat. At times he found himself simply smiling and feeling a wonderful relaxation, as if he could fall asleep on the spot and lay there for a thousand years.

But the half-orc's tone brought Nestaron back to the present. Although a cleric, he didn't consider himself a holy man or worthy of disciples, but others disagreed. Heilbutt had been sent to aid Nestaron, followed him like a master, and so the half-elf felt a duty of care to the half-orc, as any half-decent man would.

"Peace, Heilbutt. Do not mistake single words for entire meanings.

"Our companion said that in her most dire need, she might turn to you for aid. That is a privilege, wouldn't you say?"

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Seyja


"I will keep that in mind," Seyja said, nodding her agreement to Zoltan but, before she could say anything further, Heilbutt erupted in fury.

"I meant no insult, Heilbutt," she said. "I just thought that, as a friend, you would help me if you could."

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Sergeant Almador

In reply to Weston, he chuckled and scratched his stubbled cheeks.

"I wish my eldest was as reasonable as you!" He said, "But no, I am afraid he does not see much use in his father.

"If I had stayed home, I know he would have considered me a fool. If I perish on this quest, he will consider me an even greater fool.

"So now I think of it, the only way I come out of this without seeming foolish in his eyes, is to return triumphant."

The thought seems to buouy him somewhat.

He overheard the half-orc's outburst, and instinctively turned to Jex, who so far had reliably been the party's lightener of moods.

"Um, so you are a jester!? My daughter said the household were told to expect you sometime over the summer. You must be a player of the sleightest sleight, to enthral the Baronessa with but a street show!"

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Heilbutt

He swallowed and looked suddenly shamefaced, lowering his gaze.

Heilbutt nodded to Nestaron and Seyja without meeting their eyes. Inwardly he realised with alarm that he wasn't thinking straight, and blamed the lack of sleep and the heat.

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<Weston>

"Well, then I guess we need to be successful so that you can return the triumphant hero", he replied and it sounded more like a declaration than a jest ... although there =was= a bit of a twinkle in his eye. But that could just have been a trick of the light here.

The exchange between the three up front got him wondering what has started the 'confrontation' ... well, maybe that was too harsh a word. But something had gotten the half orc's dander up with Seyja and Nestaron. And that was surprising since he seemed to have something of a crush on her. Well it apparently didn't have anything to do with their quest, so probably best he leave it alone ... at least for now.



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Tindarien

Even he is surprised by D's story and his eyes widen as he tells it.

"That is truly awful."

He says after a few minutes.

"I cannot imagine a worse fate that to watch your loved ones suffer into death and then following their path. And then becoming an undead?"

He shudders as he asks the last question, just confirming his understanding.

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Jex

"Why yes, among other things. Jester is a good way of describing what I do. I would like to think I can do more than just make people laugh."

He saddles up next to Heilbutt and puts his arm around the half-orc who, he can tell, is still seething from the unintentional slight and embarrassed by his own reaction.

"Isn't it awful when people try to pin a name on you when they really don't even know you? They do that just by looking at you. I think it's best to judge a person by what they do rather than what other people say they do. So, let me ask you a question, who are you Heilbutt? What is it that you want to accomplish with your life? What principles do you live your life by? "

[ooc: Sorry about the delay in posting. No excuse for me.]

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D

He nodded with a grimace. "Keep in mind I have never shared that particular piece of my memory with anyone else. Mostly because I know that I made enemies in all my old lives. Heck I may have made them in this life and just not remember them."

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Heilbutt

He scowled at the bard and grumbled to himself, before saying, "Then I judge you as someone who throws their arm around an angry Wakelander with a spear."

Inwardly, Heilbutt felt that so far that day he'd made a fool of himself everytime he'd opened his mouth. And made a good fist of foolishness, even with his mouth closed.

He glanced ahead at Seyja. She probably hated him and thought he was an imbecile.

Such might have been expressed by his guileless body language.

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Sergeant Almador

Smiling crookedly, he watched Jex.

"I like him," he commented to Weston, "if he does stay in town it will be a fine summer indeed. One to remember!"

The Sergeant turned to Weston and clapped his shoulder.

"Yes. That decides it then. A triumphant return, it is."

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GM

You thought about how strange it would be paddling through the maze of pale, water-carved rock, on your return journey. The river, some 10 to 20 feet below was vivid blue, reflecting the sky, and riffled gently until it merged into one of the troughs feeding the main stem. There they foamed, like spray from a tapped keg; cascades unlike any you'd seen before. Nature at its most artful.

For now you minded your step, and traversed the bare rocky tops above the river. The land either side climbed steeply, more vigorously, with hills seeming to clamber over the shoulders of the wooded hills in front. But the forest was darkened now by the long, late-afternoon shadows.

You hopped or jumped across a narrow cleft, and were startled on looking up to see that the Titan's Elbow had suddenly come cleanly into view.

It dominated the scene, towering above the landscape only a couple of miles away. There was something awful about it, you weren't sure what, but a light, gossamer blanket of forboding settled over you.

Of a sudden, Seyja halted mid-stride. It was pure reflex. Her nostrils twitched and her eyes widened.

Behind her, Zoltan was probably wondering what the matter was, and searching around with his own eyes.

He saw scuff marks on the rock nearby, near the edges where the maze's natural walls dropped to the river.

Seyja smelled it. The stench of orc wafted in the air.

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Zoltan

Seyja stops in front of him and a split second later he sees why.

He holds up his hand in the universal sign of 'Stop!', and quietly draws his sword, trying to see if he can tell which way the sign leads.

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<Weston>

It had been a pleasant diversion talking with Almador about caravaning, his family and town. But when the two leaders stopped abruptly and Zoltan pulled his sword, it was clear that something was up. From where he was and with the lack of foes in the immediate vicinity, he opts for his bow. He strings it an and readies an arrow before looking about for the cause of the concern.



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Seyja


The river below, tumbling across rocks through the gorge, pleased her but, at the same time concerned her. It had been poisoned - nothing so natural and beautiful should be tainted in such an evil way.

Then it was there before her: Titan's Elbow, it must be. She took another step forward and froze in position, instinctively drawing her greataxe from her shoulder even before her brain processed the stench that entered her flaring nostrils.

"Orcs!" she hissed and, eyes narrowed, she scanned the way ahead, searching for her deadly foe.

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D

The slight dark elf looked around and sought cover that he could use. His hands sprouted black sharp points as a dagger appeared in each of them. He would be ready for combat however it came. He would make good on his word to assist the female barbarian, should this be the time his marker was called.

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Jex

"Indeed I am. And unless I misread you, you are proud to be a Wakelander. So I will call you either by your name, or Wakelander, unless you tell me not to" he answered the half-orc and before he removed his arm, he gave the man a pat on the back and flashed a big smile.

As they separated, the bard did notice that Hellibut was still angry and that he was glancing towards Seyja. Jex wasn't sure what the glance meant but he decided that he would find a way to keep any anger from erupting into chaos.

After a bit they stopped as Seyja's nostrils seemed to go into action. There were orcs about. He drew his rapier.

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Nestaron

Observing Jex and Heilbutt, he shook his head. The cleric married his childhood sweetheart, so he was the last person who should be giving a lovesick half-orc advice.

He'd leave that to his companions. If Zoltan didn't, then perhaps Jex would. Though Nestaron was a little concerned what the bard might recommend. A love potion? Or worse, a love song?

There was enough evil in the world without Heilbutt singing.

Nestaron was just reaching for his waterskin when their line stopped abruptly. He immediately jogged up to the front, with his quarterstaff in both hands.

"Be ready to fight!" He said gravely to his companions.

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Tindarien

He is admiring yet another change in the landscape when there is a change ahead and a ripple passes down through their ranks. It seems there may be enemy close by.

Instantly he is alert and looking for any sign of activity, any potential threats.. ready to cast at the first sign of trouble.

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Sergeant Almador

His head swung left right left. What was happening? They were under attack? Almador was a man-at-arms but the last serious bloodletting he'd seen was about thirty years ago.

Confidence drained out of him, just like the colour from his face. He didn't have the respect of his men to bolster him, to force a stoic face, and for a moment he flailed around for a reason not to flee.

But he saw the bravery of his companions and felt the jangling of the treasure on his back. The haunted helm.

Sergeant Almador had a duty, and what's more, his grandfather may have been a stubborn fool but he was no coward. Didn't that same blood run through his veins?

He swallowed noisily and hefted his partisan. He knew he should loosen up his upper body, but the tension had him shivering in its grip and couldn't be slackened.

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<Weston>

"Keep an eye out behind us", he whispered to Almador. "Wouldn't want anyone sneaking up from behind", he said with a wink and a grin for the sergeant.



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GM

A sound arose from the forest nearby, a cry, a cacophony of voices.

"MURDER!!" They said.

[End of session 2. Go to HHE7: Battle of Heilbutt's Hallow]

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