The Kaelic Isles, hm? She might enjoy Ant-Ast's company once he returned, then. As for him, she struck him as another, perhaps slightly less threatening Nicademus - she had the same sort of attitude, closed-off, stubborn, and it may well be that she'd be the sort to instantly assume suspicion of others too, which made her dangerous as far as Sett fulfilling his goals went. Though, he supposed as far as pelts went - it was "pelts", so said Beren, okay - foreign product would invariably draw a higher price just for its rarity and difficulty of acquisition. And, technically, they were hunting a particular bounty, too...

The sound of a bell ringing through the small village caught his attention before he could make any further comments. People's reactions to that bell were largely negative. And if he listened carefully, over the sound of the bell's peals... ohh, that sounded bad. That sounded like the beasts they'd fled from days ago, in fact.

'I think we're being attacked,' he commented, standing up and considering how he might avoid fighting anything... and whilst the answer he came up with was something that could actually happen and therefore put him in a worse situation, it also needed saying regardless. 'Whatever it is,' he added seriously, 'it could be intended as a distraction from a more insidious invasion. Perhaps we ought to split up to make certain, once we're all rightly equipped?'

@POOHEAD189@Gardevoiran@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@Stormflyx@Mortarion@IcePezz

At this point An-Hasst couldn't help but let go of a subtle smirk. Speak that big guy's language ? Well that was a task that could be achieved. The remainder of the party, unless knowing the giant's tongue to at least a similar degree as the Skayleigh did, would not be able to understand the strange words their half-giant member was speaking out now:

"I do not intend to join a wolf pack while not being a wolf, so the only way your parable can be applied to the current situation is by interpreting it in a way that it's only about the intrusion of the wolf pack's territory. While this is undeniably true for my case I still would like to interject something: The clever wolf pack, those whose members are capable of higher level thinking instead of being purely dependent on more or less primal instincts, could see the improved efficiency of a single dog trying to extract one of his own kind out of their territory instead of the whole pack doing the job itself."

It was by far not perfect, but should be more than sufficient in terms of grammar and wording for the stone giant to understand properly. Having said this, An-Hasst quickly jumped onto an elevated position from which he could see more of the area that laid ahead of the party.

"And you are a clever individual, aren't you ?" The question did not lack that certain indication that it meant merely rhethorically, but still it was a bit of a challenge. One whose outcome the Skayleigh obviously was not willing to await as he jumped off the rock at breakneck speed. After all he also was half elf and felt that degree of compassion for his colleague who had quite possibly maneuvered himself into so much trouble by now...

An-Hasst started to follow the maze of rocks, periodically calling out for Calanon's name.

@The Fated Fallen@POOHEAD189@BCTheEntity@Gardevoiran@IcePezz@Mortarion

And the conversation flicked to Giant-Tongue. Alice had never heard it spoken before, and thought about how to describe it. The sentence structure had a strange and slow lilt to it. When spoken from deep within one's chest it sounded like a constant drone or, more poetically, like a grumbling rock-slide. It would probably take a human years of practice to reach the same timbre and tone that An-Hasst was managing and they'd have to have a very deep voice to start with.

An-Hasst started to shout their comrades name. Alice considered staying silent and composed in front of the stone giants, since the chances Calanon could hear them were slim. But slim chances were better than nothing, so she started shouting 'Calanon' as well, hoping her higher pitched voice would reverberate better along these rock walls.

She turned to Argon, "Can you pick up any scent? Maybe the scent of his Stag?"

@Fetzen@POOHEAD189@BCTheEntity@Gardevoiran@IcePezz@Mortarion

The bells sounded.

"Hm?" Ursaren's head perked up, his attention to his alchemy suddenly halting for a few moments. Normally bells meant one of two things, which were either a big event that was being conducted like a temple gathering, or something was very wrong. Ursaren figured the former wasn't the case, since he'd not seen a temple in this village, nor a chapel or steeple to identify. If there was any such place he'd likely have spent his time there instead. His suspicions were confirmed by one of the people he was treating.

"The warning bell? W-what's going on, dear Priest?"

Ursaren stood from his chair before looking out the doorway to the rest of the hamlet, grunting to himself before he glanced back inside the room. "Trouble, no doubt. Rest easy, everyone. I'll be back soon."

As soon as Ursaren stepped outside of the building, he waved over the nearest few guards that he could. As soon as they arrived, Ursaren gave them an order. "Stay here and make sure whatever's attacking doesn't get to any of these people."

"What? When did we start taking orders from you?"

"Trust me, you'll be far safer here than up there. That, and I'm far more suited to fighting then I might let on."

The guardsmen were skeptical, but they nodded solemnly as they took up post. Ursaren, meanwhile, had begun his run towards the tavern. His shield was strapped along his back, and for an old man the Priest of Maestus could certainly move quickly. It was probably the kind of blood that coursed through his veins that kept him going as fast as he did. It was only a matter of around thirty seconds before the old man burst through the doors of the tavern and looked to his comrades, all gallivanting around a table.

"We've got trouble. Likely the Rogs from the other day finding our trail and chasing us." Ursaren stepped over to the table. "I'm afraid the drinking and socializing will have to be put on hold. From the sounds of it out there, it's not a small scale horde." Ursaren explained. Truth be told, he didn't care if it was a small horde or a large army, he wasn't going to let innocent people die from this mayhem.

"Do you think the townsfolk would attempt to harm me if I let him out?" Ursaren asked to his companions. Hopefully they'd catch the emphasis and know what Ursaren was talking about. The last thing the party needed was a bunch of town guards and watchmen assaulting a bear that just wanted to help defend everyone.

Argon casually flicked his tongue out, blinking at Alice. "Why, friend Alice. I can try, yes yessss." He then stood up to his full height, and his serpent-like neck stretched to its highest elevation. He was now about three quarters as tall as the giant. The giant who had taken An-Hasst's words to hear, but also realized that his fellow brethren would not be perturbed by such sentiments. For all intents and purposes, he had gone back into becoming merely a rock formation.

An-Hasst clambered up the mound to stand atop the rocky outcropping, and over the vast plateau he could see the winding ways in which one could travel through. It looked much like the veins along skin, or rivers atop a map. Behind him, he could hear Argon hisses erratically. "I can perhapsss follow the trail, yesssss." the Lizardfolk said.

Fortunately, that would likely not be necessary. About 400 paces in, An-Hasst could see other giants within one of the crevasses. The giants did not seem happy in the least, and were attacking, and potentially crushing something An-Hasst could not quite make out.

---

A few villagers here or there scattered as the rogs, for they were rogs, waded into the village entrance. Ursaren would stumble out of the structure he had been in to see there was a few dozen of the monsters, and they looked even less pleased to be alive than usual. Battle scarred but filled with hatred in their eyes, their gazes darted about, looking for something. One of the larger ones saw Ursaren, looking at him. It would occur to the old man, and the others when they joined him...

These were the same rogs from before.

To Elora, the rogs would be crude humanoids, primitive and ugly, yet their armor was scavenged and their weapons wickedly tipped. Their skin ranged from green to charred black, with leathery ears as if they had been burned and stretched. Most of the rogs hair, if they had it, was tied into ponytails or brutal mowhawks. One of the villagers, too slow to get out of the way, was dragged down by one of the larger rogs and butchered before their eyes.

Beren growled. A low, bestial noise. His fists clenched in rage at the sight of the blatant murder, and in his dark eyes there was a promise of vengeance. Geradin looked much the same, grim faced and glowing hammer held aloft. Dwarves were known for their hatred of the rogs, and their underground kin, the gundarogs.

"Settione..." Beren said. "You go check the otherside of the village for any flanking attacks. You might be right. But there are too many of them for us to split up. We'll hold them here as you check. Run like your life depends on it."
@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@BCTheEntity@Gardevoiran

The sight that unfolded in front of An-Hasst did not exactly add to the Skayleigh's comfort. Wasn't this supposed to be a game of hide-and-seek ? Now of course his knowledge of a true giant's culture was anything but very profound, but still he strongly supposed that hammering onto some object with ferocity was not an ordinary part of the game... The problem was that he couldn't see what it was they were attacking, but An-Hasst's gut feeling was quick to realize that the possibility of it being Calanon was very real. If this was true their elven companion either was damn fast on his feet or already dead.

The Skayleigh lept forward, compensating for a bunch of the smaller sized bumps of the rocky ground, but only barely managed to stop his supersized self in front of a cliff that was way too high in order to skipped by jumping downwards. Trying to calculate his momentum, An-Hasst reversed a few steps, then started to sprint and jumped as forcefully as he could. The other side of the cliff passed right below his feet before his not so subtle landing. An-Hasst probably could not expect others of the party to follow him as quickly, at least not all of them.

"Calanon!" his thunderous, shouting voice roamed accross the landscape. He honestly hoped to attract some of the giants' attention since now he could see that they indeed were attacking their elven companion. While repeating his callout, An-Hasst continued his approach as quickly as he could.

@The Fated Fallen@POOHEAD189@BCTheEntity@Gardevoiran

Uh. Shoot. That was a lot of them. The ones they'd fought before. But yes, good thing he'd blessed the group earlier that day. That meant his responsibilities were limited to... well. Exactly what Beren had told him to do. At least briefly.

'As you wish, Beren. Oh, and Ursaren?' he added just before taking off. 'I'm sure the villagers won't mind that much, in context.' And with that said, he ran - bag, to wit, in hand. He still hadn't gotten the chance to thank Aeryn for that. It was once he'd left the party's sight that he decided now was the time to claw out the helmet he'd abducted and reblessed a while back, though abstained from actually putting it on for the time being. If he saw an enemy abducting villagers, of course he'd want it on for protection, but what if he was mistaken for a Rog mid-flight? That'd be simply unacceptable.

Briefly, his fingers ran across the staff within too. Alas - no daggers had been snuck away for him, and no valdium sword either. Merely a potent magical staff, craved by dark elves and pilfered from a place of death. Sanctified much like the helm, of course, but he'd certainly not want to use it if he had a choice. If he had a choice. Or if he needed to use any weapons to begin with! That was a good thought to keep in mind, he considered as he continued his scouting. If enemies abounded only in the form of rogs, so be it. If they presented themselves otherwise... well... it had been requisition of divine assistance that led the stave into his possession in the first place. How bad could such a thing be?

@POOHEAD189@Gardevoiran@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@Stormflyx@Mortarion@IcePezz