Fjolnir walks up and plops down on the dead giant simpleton- trying to look nonchalant, and dismissive of the carnage, the pressure squeezes gas from the cadaver- one last flatus escape. "Fuck, wrong idea..." he climbs down and walks over near Az and Absinthe instead, feigning ignorance of the awkward moment.
Absinthe, still naked just now with his skull mug of ale, walks over to Brughor and flips him onto his back and sits down on his stomach. Dong hanging just out of biting reach. I look down at Brughor while taking a hefty swig of my mug. I then hold the mug near his head to compare sizes and overall which would look cooler. "Hrm, Interesting!" I down the rest of the ale in my mug, then look inside the mug with slight disappointment that it's empty. I then stare down at Brughor for what feels like an awkward amount of time.
"I'm not going to ask you any questions. You are just going to tell me what you think I want to know."
Fjolnir walks deeper into the cave and while scanning the walls and nooks for anything valuable, he notices the chest- opens it to inspect the contents, while Dirk plays Sir Potato Head with the fallen.
Thanks Absinthe. That Gog is... way out of my capabilities to move. I position Brughol on his back, clutching his weapon clutched over his chest. Close his eyes and place one copper piece over each eye. SMI randomly scatter the body parts of the orcs and Gog around him. He was obstinate, prideful and thusly dumb.... but his balls were that of mithril itself. I respect that.
After Absinthe and Dustfinger tend to their wounds, you carry on North out of Wyvern Tor, to the marked location on your map indicating "Old Owl Well."
Old Owl Trouble- Daran has heard stories from prospectors in the hills northeast of Phandalin that someone is digging around in the ruins known as Old Owl Well. More disturbingly, several prospectors have reported being chased from the area by undead. He asks the characters to visit the ruins, a two-day march northeast of Phandalin, and find out who’s there and what they’re up to. Daran knows that the ruins are an old watchtower of an ancient magical empire known as Netheril, and he worries that dangerous magic might be dormant there.
3 Your trip is uneventful, and it ends up taking a good portion of the rest of the day to make the 10 mile journey. You eat bacon again.
It is now early evening as you crest a low ridge. You spy the crumbling ruins of an old watchtower standing amid the rugged hills. The place is so old that the walls are only mounds of rubble enclosing a courtyard of sorts, adjacent to the broken stump of an old tower. A colorful tent has been set up in the middle of the courtyard, but no one is in sight.