Jex stops dead still. A flash of shock crosses his face, followed by anger followed by confusion. The next looks are hard to read, like an internal conversation is happening, or a chess master reciting a game. He holds up his hand for silence, his lips move with the concentration, a twitch of his other arm like he is twisting an invisible knife in someone's gut.

And then I would... 

But then that... 

And now... 

He drops his hand and laughs. 

"So this is what it means to have friends eh? Lies and whispers behind the back? Seems I could take well to it after all. You were wise to wait. Telling me may well have ended in your deaths and then my falling to the disease."

He laughs again,waving it off." I do not understand why you did not lock me up, or try. But we shall continue to be amazed by each other for sure. Now hand me that potion quick and perhaps the statue will allow me to touch it after all."

He snatches it and gulps it down. 

"Thurston, you tricky man. Thor would be proud of your cunning, just as he himself deals in the whispers and holding back of truth, you have done well. Thank you all."

He reaches out to touch the statue again. 

As Jex drinks the potion, he at first feels nothing but the chill of liquid running down his throat and the fresh mountain air on his skin. Then, a few moments later, he begins to itch. It starts in his arms and spreads across his entire body, until it feels like fire is running through his veins as it sears the demons from within. The pain is excruciating and feels unending, but in truth it only lasts a few seconds and then Jex is left panting, one hand pressed against the dwarven monolith for support. The ancient rock is cool to the touch.

Hurrig wakes up in a startle. Breathing heavy and in a cold sweat. “Oh thank Moradin, it was just a dream.” He drinks some water and splashes it on his face, then begins his normal morning ritual blessing his warhammer, and praying to his god. 

When they reach the stones, Hurrig places his hand on them and admires the stone work, it’s been a while since he has seen some traditional Dwarven work.

After Jex finds out: “We had the best intentions for ya. And we’re glad ya stickin around with us.”

Hurrig feels a soothing sensation wash over him as he touches the stone, as though his connection to Moradin is deepened for a moment.

Hurrig is affected by a minor charm of restoration. He gains three free castings of lesser restoration.

Bründir takes in Jex's myriad reactions with stoic patience, "This was all I could think of. In th' mines, ye work or ye die. Friends are 'round to make sure ye work an' don' die, but I've seen a few who give up no matter what friends do. Also seen some that get left by friends fer not livin' this rule an' lettin' others pick up slack." Crossing his arms in frustration, Bründir dispenses with metaphor, "Look, ye wanted to do as much as th' rest of us, so why would we stop ye? So long as yer not cuttin' us open at night or being a dead weight, I saw no need fer concern or mention till we had a cure."

Jex smiles at Brundir, catching his breath at last after the burning of the potion. He clasps the dwarf on the shoulder. 

"You did a good thing. And I truly am grateful that you would risk keeping me alive when it would be so much safer to have killed me in my sleep."

Maneuvering the wagon between the trees and south across the forested hills is slow going. Over the course of the next six hours the party only covers about nine miles, by which point the moon has begun to creep across the face of the sun, bringing dusk to Eldren forest. According to the map, the road is another two hours south at this pace. Too far to make before nightfall and so once more they make camp under the trees.

Two days more to Sheercleft.

Thurston is quiet next morning, with a worried look in his eyes and turning towards the direction of his homeland frequently as they walk. He doesn't speak of his dreams but they had troubled him. 

When the antidote came and Jex process the information he offers his hand to him. "Yes. This is what having friends means. Taking care of each other. Sorry for the little deception, but I thought it was necessary to keep you focused on the task at hand. That's why I were such in a hurry to recover that blood... " he smiles " that and for the dire need of the Sheercleft. I am happy that you are fine now. " 

Jex sits, pondering the events of the day, sat on top of his wagon. He takes out the mask from the cabin and turns it over in his hands. Slightly sceptical of its abilities he looks it in the eyes. Still, his friends had shown to have his best interests in mind. He tries it on. He doesn't feel very different, but he didn't really expect to. He meditates again, his energy did feel a little off, whether due to the mask, or the cute he wasn't sure, but he takes the time to recentre himself and focus his mind through the mask. 

The next morning, the party rises early once more, keen to reach their destination. After a couple of hours, they finally find the road that leads to the mountain pass, and leave the foothills for good. The incline is rough, especially with the wagon, and for some of the steeper stretches Dorno and Valaith have to help push from behind so that the poor pony isn't dragged back down the mountain along with it. It's a long, hard trek. Nevertheless, come dusk, the wagon clears the treeline, and the slope evens out as they push up into higher reaches of the Ice Cap Peaks. The air is fresh up here, but also frigid, it will be a cold night.

Looking back out west, the view is spectacular. From up here, one can see the verdant carpet of Eldren forest spreading out beneath them for as far as the eye can see. Now and again, tiny lights can be spotted twinkling amongst the canopy. A reminder of new friends left behind.

Hurrig becomes more weary as they grow closer to Sheercleft, afraid of what they might come to find when they arrive. He has been gone for a little over a week to get help. He prays to Moradin in the morning hoping that the little town was able to hold up. He looks out over the sea of trees and mutters to himself without trying to hide it from anyone, "Trying ta lay low, seems ta have only gotten me inta a bigger mess." He begins to laugh as he turns around to help set up the rest of camp.

Jex brings a blanket from inside the wagon and makes camp atop it once again. Wrapped in the blanket he looks out over the wilderness and can't help but think that he can't wait to return to a walled city. Beautiful though it is from here, for Jex the view of open planes and treetops, rivers and mountains, only serves as a reminder that he is not a true elf and could never fit in with that society. It was walls and buildings where he had managed to accept himself, and nature always made him feel isolated and lonely on some level, a reminder of the inferiority he had been made to feel in his youth. He puts the mask back on his face, partly to hide his emotions and partly because he wanted to shrink down from his past and feel anonymous lest it find him here now and consume him. 

Thurston enjoys the colder and fresh air. He is far from home but this mountain pass kind of remind him of it. That, and the dreams he had last night. If he wasn't so troubled by them he could had noticed that the others seems to have had nightmares too, and that the mood is darker that it should be, for they had obtain another victory, and no a small one, for the elves and Jex will recover from that Fury disease. 

If the elves has the antidote now, wouldn't that put their city in the center of the attention of the Morrigan? He hopes that they could hold until they could return. 

He turned his back to the forest and looked up to the top of the mountains. 

"I wish I have a hammer like Mjorlin to pass this mountains fast..." he mumbles to himself. He thought that his impatient feelings would subside once they had the antidote, but now he feels that even when they reach and help Sheercleft, they will be, still, in a hurry. At least until that three sisters and their whole clan were destroyed. 

"The Gods never give you more that a moral can handle... " his instructor used to say back at home " and if they do is because they are testing you to join them at Valhalla so do not complain and get your work done!" 

It was an easy thing to say when Thurston was carrying that big chopped tree over his shoulders from the river bank to the village, while he was riding that horse alongs side Thurston but nevertheless, they were wise and true words.

Bründir's eyes keep drawing up to the foreboding, snowcapped peaks he called home. As the weather turns, he pulls his cloak tight, but cradles Dumdrengi closer. Every so often, he mumbles and speaks to it, as though bringing a friend from foreign lands home despite their shared home.

As he walks alongside the wagon, he whispers encouragements that turn to soft speeches. He thinks of home and hearth, friends and family. Soon, his words drive his feet along until his feet move in sync with the words. Memories of a bar and a roaring fire fill his heart and drive the cold from his bones.

Through darkened stone and fathoms deep, // We drive our picks more deeper. // But though we work far from the light, // We ne'er fear to wither.

For on the mountains tall and proud, // and deep within their roots, // ye'll find us here, chil'ren o' stone, // 'ave built a mighty home.

Sit still, now child, and list'n close // Ye'll 'ear us far below ye // Fear not th' thumpin' in th' ground // It's where stone children always be.

Through darkened stone and fathoms deep, // We drive our picks more deeper. // But though we work far from the light, // We ne'er fear to wither.

In the evening, while the wagon's progress paused for food, Bründir sat wrapped in cloak with Dumdrengi's hilt resting under his chin, "...an' wait till me ma sees ye as ye are! She'll be just besides 'erself. She'll want to take ye to the ancestor's home, an' they'll pro'lly be besides themselves too. Can't be one like ye fer hundreds, maybe thousands, of years!"

As the sun slowly disappears behind the moon, the pass is bathed in cold, silver light. Hurrig and Val stay up to keep watch and, an hour or so after dark, two arrows suddenly fly at them from the top of a nearby tor!

Hurrig manages to shift to take the blow with his armour, but Valaith suffers a nasty wound to the right leg! This one will leave a scar...

The shadowy shooters duck back down out of sight and goblins surge in from all directions, rushing the campsite!

To the south, an enormous bugbear hurls a javelin at Hurrig, winding the dwarf badly.

Valaith suffers 5 points of piercing damage to wounds from an arrow, resulting in an injury that will leave a minor scar -> 13/18 wounds.

Hurrig suffers a total of 17 points of piercing damage to vigour from an arrow and a javelin -> 7/24 vigour.

Everybody roll initiative.

Jex wakes with a start, mask still on his face where he fell asleep, a crick in his neck and a slight cramp in his foot. The sounds of battle alarm him and he rolls skillfully over the edge of the wagon, landing on his feet with a super hero landing, bow in the hand behind his back as he removes it from its quiver. His cloak swirls around him, masking his movement, and as he stands back to full height he let's off a surprising shot at the bugbear before he even reaches his full height. The shot lands perfectly, taking the startled beast in the abdomen as it lets out a roar of pain. Jex is already on the move though, knowing the tryebess of his strike without needing to look to confirm. He runs to across the battlefield to where the main danger is, using Brundir's tent for cover. Seeing the dwarf still asleep, he kicks him firmly.

"Wake up lazy bones, there are goblins in the camp." 

Bründir's screams can be heard at Jex calls, just moments before his blade splits the side of the tent and he comes charging out. The bugbear barely had time to react before the dwarf slapped its weapon aside and drove the brilliant sword across its stomach. A glancing blow, but certainly enough to get the goblinoid's attention!

"HURRIG!" The crazed dwarf screams back to camp, "You gonna 'elp or let'em take our 'ome?! Suck a stone and get the hell off this mountain, ye damned bastard!"

(Move, Attack, and "Healing Word")

Valaith and Hurrig were sitting quietly, listening to the sounds around them when suddenly the unmistakable snap of a bowstring is heard from above and an arrow sprouts from Val's thigh. She grunts with the impact as the projectile sinks deep into the muscle, nicking her artery which immediately begins to blood badly. Before she could much else, a small swarm of goblins surround the campsite and Valaith. She grits her teeth against the pain as the bright crimson blood spurts out around the shaft of the arrow and suddenly the blood begins to freeze against her leg as the temperature around her drastically drops. Frost covers her as it begins to coat her nearby companions and she lets loose with a primal scream, full of blood lust and loss as the memories of her terrible dream come flooding back that splits the air, echoing off the nearby walls!

She brings her massive maul about towards the goblin standing directly in front of her in a brutal upward, side-swipe; however, the elusive little mongrel ducks at the last second and the hammer soars over it's head... directly into the face of his nearby companion! A sickening crunch is heard as that goblin's nose is smashed into ruin and blood immediately begins to pour forth. The goblin squeals in pain and anger as he glares at his friend, cursing him in their native tongue.

As the goblin's blood spatters across the head of Valaith's maul, the weapon once again crackles with black lightning as it channels the monster's life force into her. Glancing down she sees the wound on her leg begin to slowly close.

The goblins spring up once more from atop the towering rocks of the mountain pass, loosing two further arrows at Bründir. The impact is blunted by his armour, but he staggers forward from the force of the blows. Both drop back down, hiding in the the shadows cast by the moon light.

Down on the ground, Val is harassed by blades on all sides. One smaller goblin swings ineffectually at her, while its wounded comrade slinks out of the fight and runs, desperately trying to stop the blood flowing from its nose. It trips on a rock as it goes falling face down, unconscious on the ground. The other goblin, who Valaith had intended to swing at, strikes at her twice. The first blow is wide but the second catches jarringly on the haft of her axe as she moves to block.

To the south, the bugbear facing Bründir also turns and runs, clutching at its torso it binds the wound with loose cloth.

Capitalising on the assault of their smaller brethren, the hobgoblins also move in to attack the goliath. Two strike in concert with longswords, wearing Valaith down with coordinated team attacks. The final redskin swings an enormous black greatsword at her, but it is slower and she is able to evade both strikes.

Shaken from slumber by Valaith's scream, Dorno jerks upright. He hurries outside the tent and seeing his friends in trouble calls upon a spirit of the land to bathe Val in healing energy. Dropping to all fours his body twists and buckles as he assume the form of a cougar once more.

Valaith takes a total of 37 points of slashing damage to vigour, halved to 17 overall -> 15/35 Vigour, 15/18 Wounds

Hurrig's action.

Hurrig winces in pain, "Ah shit! ******* Goblins!" He grabs his symbol and above the goblins on the ridge summon Moradins hammer once again. He swings it down into one of the goblins but the goblin is able to absorb the blow. He grabs his crossbow out and takes a shot at the same goblin, but the pain of the javelin causes him to aim wide.