Jex's scimitar arm drops as the bugbear is impaled, he looks over his shoulder where the well aimed javelin had passed close to his face and nods with respect to Val, and looks the other way to acknowledge Thurston and the work they had done together on the ogre. 

He takes a step towards Brundir, intent on helping him up, still somewhat confused at the emotion that had caused him to place his own life in danger to protect another, but he sinks back from the anger. A half grin of surprise on his face, but certainly apprehension and unease too as he watches the dwarf take out his frustration on the defeated creature.  

"Well I think he's dead Brundir. Though you may have to argue with Val for who gets him."

He chooses not to let the silence become too tense, breaking it with a cheery tone. 

"Better out than in though eh?"

Val watches somberly as Brundir takes out his violent rage upon the fallen bugbear, as Larkin's spirit hovers nearby before slowly dissipating as the rage simmers and flickers out like a candle flame in a strong breeze. She had seen the bodies of her fallen family and friends pierced and rent by orcish weapons even after they lay dead upon the frozen grounds of the mountain. She returns Jex's respectful nod and even laughs at his terrible joke, honestly the thoughts of keeping count had been driven out by the fear of seeing Brundir's ruined face. She runs a finger absently down the massive scar that runs the length of her own face as she walks over and places her massive hand upon his shoulders. "On your feet, Halfshield. You are still a warrior of your people. You should not sully your honor by falling to the depths of your enemies. Come." She offers her hand to help him stand. "I know your pain, but your home still stands and your family still breathes. You are not the only one wounded in this journey." She points to the scar upon her face. "This will not be the end of you. We are the sons and daughters of stone."

"Aye, family still stands, an' she stands taller'n me. I don' care about honor, an' I don' care about bein' better'n them." The dwarf rises, a stares at the carnage before the gate. An ettin, an ogre, and  a bugbear. Arguably the largest threats all felled in one place, but all he could see was a cheap shot against one and being pummeled by the others. "I'm not some great warrior, I don' whip up a blizzard or lightnin' just fer kicks. I'm a miner with a sword that won' listen from a man who prob'ly stole it an' ran. Learned a few tricks from me ma jus' in time to keep myself from dyin'." He taps his head, then moves to retrieve Karakarin. His movements are almost devoid of any enthusiasm, just forced by obligation. "I'm not done fightin'; there's a small army still walkin' about. I owe it to Sheercleft to kill ev'ry one of'em, but there's nothin' else fer me. I'll keep swingin' till my arm falls off or one of'em finishes the job started 'ere." With nothing left, he starts to shuffle back toward the road, Dumdrengi trailing behind singing lightly as it scrapes the rocky ground, "How many did ye kill, Val? Ye did it wounded, an' I couldn' do one without."

"Wait!" Jex calls after Brundir as he starts leaving. "Should we not do something with this mess?" He gestures around the ground around them "Who knows what they stole? And I for one could use a rest while we look through it. Looking at you, you could use the same. See what they've got on the fire there and sit yourself down eh?" 

“Bründir Halfshield!!” Yells Thurston “What are you think you are doing?” 
The Norscan walks around the dwarf and kneels in one knee in front of him.

”Stay there and let me check that wound. “ He gently but firmly holds Brundir’s face and inspect the wound. He takes some water and pours it in the wound while he keeps talking.

”It’s a grevious wound indeed my friend. But that doesn’t give you the right to speak that way. What was all that about? A miner...” he scoffs” You know what I see when I look at you? A warrior, a leader! You were a miner? I was a smith’s apprentice that burnt the smith of his village and half of it in the process! So what? You are brave enough not only to take up arms when your home needed but also raised up and charged himself with the weight of leading his community into a new era of safety and prosperity! Fate touched to have recovered a legendary sword and wield it with honor, justice and bravery. What was all that shit talk about not scoring a point? That was a silly game that in no way reflects your, or any, real skill. You are not less than any of us, before or after that wound!! Don’t you realize? Most people would had fall to the ground with that wound but you stood tall and fight back!! And fell that ettin!! You have accomplished more in two months  than most people in their whole life!. This is not about how well you land blows.. it’s about how many times you stand up and fight after receiving blows! And I’ve seen you taking blows that would had break the body and spirit of a lesser man... I mean.. dwarf. I am proud of call you friend, of call you family!” He looks at Val at that word “And I will not allow anyone to speak less of you! Not even yourself!!! 
The Norns had this hard time for you in your destiny... well the Gods were wise enough to give you two eyes so you can still fight! You have endure the same fate as Odin. Use him as they really intended us to use them. As an example. Use his example and become wiser, stronger. “ he puts a hand into the Dwarf shoulder. “Come now my brother and let us take care of that wound and let’s rejoice in our victory, for we have prevented so much pain and suffering today” 

Jex's plea is met with a dismissive, waving sword, "Burn it, loot it, do whatever ye want, so long as they're dead!"

Thurston's reassurance did a bit more, if only because it stopped the dwarf from storming off and wallowing in his own thoughts. In the end, he was not ready to believe he was anything special - he was just an ordinary dwarf, presented with an extraordinary position, and did not say no - but at least he was alive and being offered help. "This place smells like burnin' shit. Take what ye want, torch th' rest. I need t'get somethin' fer my head an' somethin' t'cover this shit." The wagon was left some distance up the road, but he needed the minutes to think on everything. Despite the several blessings after the grievous injury, his head felt like it was newly split with an axe. An old shirt became his bandage and semi-permanent fixture, and his flask was emptied, refilled, emptied again, and refilled before he decided to return to the site.

Vark stands nearby and watches the others try and reassure the wounded dwarf. He seems at a loss for words, despite being able to relate to Bründir's feelings of inadequacy. His own confidence is newfound thanks to his friends, Bründir especially,  and he needs to think on how to return the favor. In the meantime he walks off from the group towards the large tent he'd destroyed. Had that first hobgoblin actually been the leader of this troupe? If so he could have valuable items or information on him.

Jex follows Vark into the tent to avoid the negative atmosphere outside. He thoroughly begins pulling things from the walls and floors, sorting them into piles for taking, hiding and burning. As he moves one rug he reveals a trap door. Tapping Vark on the shoulder he points out his find and motions for quiet as he checks it. He finds it empty of life though and instead evidence of even more goblin activity than they had feared. He traces back to the entrance and looks at the footprints. He calls the others around pointing out his findings. "This was the remnants of a huge army. It seems they headed north not too long ago. They are organised, not scattered to the winds as we had hoped. Who can say what they are looking for there. Behind the waterfall there is a statue to their vile god. Perhaps someone is using faith as a motivator? We should warn the elves and the dwarves that an army still roams these lands, organised and seeking blood."  He steps closer to the statue. "Maglubiyet, I'm sure. A fitting filthy deity for a filthy warband. What do you make of this Thurston? Thurston?" He looks over his shoulder to where Thursdton and Hurrig are wrestling with a map he had found and tossed aside in the tent. Hurrig seems to be twisting it back and forward, scratching his head, Thurston takes it from him and orients it, squinting at it in confusion. Giving a grin and a shake of his head, Jex sneaks up behind the pair, silently watching, suppressing a chuckle. Giving it a few seconds longer he coughs, trying to startle them. 

"Ah, most clever Thurston, you have found their destination. Clearly Thor's wisdom and patience are with you this day. Just as Thor tracked the serpent with cunning, you have ascertained that the goblins head for Khaz a Grungron. How did you know where to look?"

Thurston, after helping his friends to thend their wounds,  has been piling corpses to burn them out when he hears Jex's words. 

" You talk wisely Jex. We can use the scroll to warn the elves, and we should look for something similar to communicate with Sheercleft. Take me to see that statue of that vile god, and show me the rest of it... " 

With the map on his hands he nods to Jex. 

"Elemtary my friend. You just have to think as a goblin. "

When they go behnd the waterfall and see the statue Thurson nods at Jex asumption. 

"Indeed this is Maglubiyet. Foul diety of the goblins. He craves for blood of innocents. I will not allow this to stand here any longer. Take a step back my friends. Rikkazarik will take care of it." 

With that, he grabs the hammer with both hands and, calling to her God he slams the statue on the face with the mighty hammer. 

Jex nods as he takes a step back to watch the Norscan swing. He admires the power and precision in the blows and sits back to watch as the statue gradually crumbles. "Yes, a terrible deity indeed. And one well known as enemy to Thor, though he knows him as Surtur. For surtun[sic] we must defeat these enemies that follow him."

He sits back chewing on a blade of grass.

"But how best. As always we must stay patient and be smart about how we tackle this. Should we warn the dwarves, send message ahead. We have the parchment, though little remains and it is terribly valuable. One man or a few can go faster than an army, we could try to arrive before them."

He scrunches his face. "It does not hurt to have someone owe you a favour, especially when you go there asking for one anyway. It hurts less still to save them from trouble they already find themselves in."  He shakes his head. "The risk is too great though, I wager on the Dwarven stronghold over a goblin army. This is no small village, but a Khaz. It will be well defended. We should warn them and take the smaller favour that is guaranteed." 

The brittle flint shatters like glass beneath the force of the mighty blow from Rikkazarik, sending shards of stone flying in all directions as the nose and jaw of the carving crumble, leaving a hollow where Maglubiyet's face ones was.

"I still have this," Vark cuts in, pulling the silver raven figurine from his pocket. "It could fly ahead once we're close... I don't know, it might give them a little warning at least."

Jex nods. "Good idea Vark."

He thinks a moment longer. "Hurrig, what can you tell us of the Khaz? Is it well defended? What approaches will an army need to take?"

After destroying the face of the horrid statue, Thurston hits it again, and again, and again, until there's nothing left from it that a pile of rubble. 

Apparently glad with the result, and while cleaning the dust from the head of the hammer he joins the conversation. 

"You are right Jex, as usual. We should warn them, even if the goblin force has been diminished by our efforts they should be warned and prepare a proper welcome for that rats. " the norscan seems to think about something for a while and when all has been decided he adds.

"Do you recall the small statue I smashed on Kung's tent? I think it was of Surtur too. I didn't know that they were the same Jex. Interesting. Anyway, if they have a strong, religious figure that is ralling them under the faith of that demon. We will keep getting trouble from them until we find this figure and destroy it. I suggest we try to capture one of them alive next time. We need information about this new threat. " 

His refilled flask was nearly empty again. One more, it'll be a while before the wagon comes back, an' I need somethin' fer my head till then, he thought. He leaned heavily against the wagon, next to the cask of elven mead that still came as a staple travel drink for the party. His breathing was labored and his head spun trying to focus. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe and steady himself. Damn goblins. Deserved every pain I gave, but took it out of me. His hands fumbled blindly for the spigot until the sound of trickling in his flask caught his ears. He opened his eyes to see a hand on the cask's valve, and another taking his own to steady the pour. At first, he paid no mind to who it was, he only mumbled, "Thank ye, I really need this right now."

No response came. For a moment, Bründir blinked and figured he was delirious. Enough blinks and he'd see his own hands on the valve, but the hands never left. They were familiar. Heavy, stocky, a dwarf's hands. Hurrig, he thought with a sigh. However he followed hands were clad in mail closer to silver in color, not the dark adamantium of Hurrig's armour. Bründir followed the arm to its owner and saw a dwarf clad in shining, silver armour to his right. On his head rested a gold crown, and centered above the dwarf's brow rose two rectangular extensions. This dwarf's face was set with grim determination, but to Bründir, it seemed closer to condemnation. "Who in Hell're you?" The dwarf laid a mailed hand on Bründir's ruined eye. It was strangely warm, as though the metal breathed life. A few heartbeats went by before he removed his hand, then promptly slapped Bründir across his wounded face. Pain returned in full, but the mailed hand felt like a brand that embedded itself within the dwarf's cheek.

"What was that?! That crown dug in too deep?!" Bründir patted frantically at his face, trying to feel for any new bleeding. To his surprise, he found none, and the pain quickly faded by his hand. He blinked a few more time, and he saw the regal dwarf standing 10 feet before him in the road. This was the first time he'd looked up enough to see more than the wagon. To the west, behind his silent companion, he saw darkening clouds of an incoming storm. 

They were gray at first, then threatened to turn black. Far beyond the realm of elves, a looming mania threatened to overrun the great forest land. As it neared, its shade changed to a regal violet. The strange dwarf stood before Bründir, encroaching clouds painting a halo around his figure. Closer still, the clouds rumbled and jumped with lightning. Among the flashes of light, dark patches of clouds resisted the brief light. They shifted and mingled, until the silhouette of a dragon dragon stood within the cloud. The storm was at the foot of the mountains now, and its approach had not abated. Its size was so great that it blocked the sky all around the dwarves.

Stranger still than this offensive storm was the sight of similar storms that approach from other directions. To his left, scarlet clouds came from the south. To his right, ebony storms from the north. Finally, he ventured a look behind and saw and emerald curtain sweep in from the east. From each other cloud, similar silhouettes formed, but took more roughly humanoid shape.  "What did ye do? What is all this?!" The winds had risen to a roar around them, and sound was consumed. The encroaching storms carries a malice that electrified the very air and choked the sun from everything they covered. The shadows crept over the surrounding hills and Bründir immediately realized their intent.

He recalled how Dumdrengi flared to life when confronted with undead and demons and, instinctively, he dropped his hand to his waist. However, his heart sank when he felt nothing. He felt betrayed further when his good eye spied not even a scabbard hanging from his belt. Before he could protest, he saw the truth: the crowned dwarf held Dumdrengi in his hand, the blade shining with such vigour that it seemed to burn with white flames. He raised the blade to the sky, and Bründir noticed the clouds again. They converged just overhead spinning in a great torrent where they met. However a single point at the center denied them. This swirling eye was directly overhead, and the little sunlight it permitted created a shaft of light that encircled the two dwarves. Wind whipped about them, and Bründir covered his face for the sake of his good eye. Before him, the other dwarf leveled Dumdrengi toward him, his eyes burning with the same white fire as the blade. Bründir opened his mouth to speak, but wind tore the words from his throat. The malevolent gale reaches deep and tore the air from his lungs. His side burned as he strained to breath against his fractured rib, and the creeping shadow closed around him until only a blur from Dumdrengi remain in sight.

Quote from Barlow >>

Thurston's reassurance did a bit more, if only because it stopped the dwarf from storming off and wallowing in his own thoughts. In the end, he was not ready to believe he was anything special - he was just an ordinary dwarf, presented with an extraordinary position, and did not say no - but at least he was alive and being offered help. "This place smells like burnin' shit. Take what ye want, torch th' rest. I need t'get somethin' fer my head an' somethin' t'cover this shit." 

 Bründir made it about three steps before he collapsed in the beaten path. He was promptly taken into a cleared out tent, laid in a bed that was scourged of any goblin belongings, and treated until he regained a semblance of peace. For the rest of the night, he stirred feverishly and passed in and out of consciousness. Dumdrengi sat next to his bed, quietly dormant as always. In the night, however, a faint point of light peaked out from its crossguard, and the grip radiated the warmth of fading embers.

Hurrig turns to Jex,“Well it’s a small Khaz, maybe a 1000 or so people. The walls are built high around the base of the mountain. This protects much of the infrastructure that is located above ground.I believe they will be able to withstand an attack of that size.” Hurrig looks around at the other members of the party,“However, what worries me is, are there other war bands out there converging on the Khaz as well? We clearly need to rest, but we can’t wait too long.” Hurrig looks towards the tent where Brundir lay, the dwarf took quite a beating in the last fight. “We’re going to need every ounce of strength to overcome this force. We need to find a way to get around this army though. We won’t be able to get to the gates with them in the way.”

"Then I will write the letter to warn them. We can send it either by Vark's Raven, or by the magical paper from the Elves. We would hate for them to be caught outside, unaware of the approaching threat."

Jex grins and takes out some ink and a pen from his wagon to begin writing the letter.

Dear Neighbours of Khaz a Grungron,

We, the new council of Sheercleft, have attacked a goblin stronghold between our allied territories. We have slain much of the army, but unfortunately have ascertained that a large bulk of the force had already departed to attack your lands. We hope that by warning you, you will be prepared to meet them when they arrive and catch them unsuspecting that you suspect them. These creatures defiled the village of Sheercleft, but we have found that they scatter when their leaders are defeated. May you use this information to save the lives of your people, and to end the threat of these foul creatures with us. We march to join you now and should not be far behind them.

Yours in good faith,

Jex hesitates here, he has never liked the name the elves gave the group, feeling it was meant as condescension. After a moment tickling his nose with the end of the pen, he instead finishes:

Allies of The Ice Cap Peaks

"Could one of you check my writing please? I am still struggling with Dwarven, it is rather new to me."

 As the others examine the maps and loot the tents, Val begins to unsavory task of removing the corpses from the area they plan on sleeping in. The smaller corpses she drags down into the goblin barracks and begins to pile them into one of the rooms to one side once it has been cleared by the others. For the larger bodies of the ettin, ogre, and worgs she simply drags them away far away from the tents as she can before dumping them into a pile. She clears out the pockets of each creature before dumping their bodies...

Thurston remains at Brundir's side all the night, taking care of his wounded friend and tending to his needs in the brief moments of consciousness he had.

The edge of the parchment start to smoulder as Jex finishes the message. Slowly the flames spread across the surface until they engulf the entire sheet, leaving only a puff of smoke behind them as they vanish.

Once the message has been sent and the wagon brought into the camp, the rest of the day is spent taking stock of what can be found here, resting and tending to Bründir. The Dwarf has been lain inside the wagon for safekeeping, and early the next morning when the first rays of sunlight begin reappear from behind the moon, the party departs once more.

Around midday the group come across a line of goblin heads on spikes lining the road. A sign stands besides them with something scrawled upon it in goblin.