Quote:
From the hand of Brantun:
It must have snapped when the falls hurled us against the rocks. The bleeding has ceased, and Barleyburr has placed a splint around my leg. We sit in the half-light of a damp tunnel near the waterfall cavern. We can hear hollow stamping upon the bridge of the walking tree and its goblins as they search the basin of the falls below them. No doubt they see my blood swirling amid the foamy chaff at the water's landing. I cannot fight them. What use am I now with this leg? If they follow the trail of my blood up the ladder and into this tunnel, our quest is over. I have battled beasts and villians across Norrath, and now I am to be felled by a simple fall? Am I to be just another hapless halflings, mocked by all races for his foolish death? I am giving my sword to Barleyburr. If I am to die here, he must finish what we started.
From the hand of Barleyburr:
Courage, Brantun! Courage! You won't die as long as Barleyburr is with you! I'll carry you to the heart of fear if I must; you know how strong a belly full of ham makes me! We will rest here a moment and let you gather your strength. It's a good thing I kept some of the ham, even though it is a tad waterlogged now. Rest, Brantun, and I will tell Thistlebrush of our adventures. You should have seen us, Thistlebrush: At night we descended from our perch. I left some ham for the bears -- but not all of it, Brantun, sorry! Beyond the torchlight of the walking trees, we slipped into the river. And how peaceful it was! We floated on our backs, looking up at the stars, watching the dark forms of hills and giants silently float beyond our vision. I was asleep by the time the river emptied into the lake, and was awakened when Brantun grabbed my collar and started yelling at me about golems and living water. The stars disappeared, and I was pulled into a cave. Water was rushing all around. I was swimming in a mug of frosty ale, upended and poured down the gullet of a troll. A moment of weightlessness passed, and then I couldn't breath. I thrashed about and poked my head above the surface. Oh, I don't wish to recall it, seeing Brantun floating face down, his leg twisted at some awful angle, pulsing blood! It must have been the ham that gave me the strength to pull Brantun from the water and up the ladder. He's resting now, and I'm sure he'll be ready to continue soon, if the walking tree doesn't find us first.
From the hand of Brantun:
Barleyburr lifts my spirits, but I doubt we will make good time with my leg as it is. I foresee capture or worse. If you do not hear from us, assume we are dead or imprisoned.
From the hand of Barleyburr:
If we are taken, I'll leave a trail. Follow the ham!
It must have snapped when the falls hurled us against the rocks. The bleeding has ceased, and Barleyburr has placed a splint around my leg. We sit in the half-light of a damp tunnel near the waterfall cavern. We can hear hollow stamping upon the bridge of the walking tree and its goblins as they search the basin of the falls below them. No doubt they see my blood swirling amid the foamy chaff at the water's landing. I cannot fight them. What use am I now with this leg? If they follow the trail of my blood up the ladder and into this tunnel, our quest is over. I have battled beasts and villians across Norrath, and now I am to be felled by a simple fall? Am I to be just another hapless halflings, mocked by all races for his foolish death? I am giving my sword to Barleyburr. If I am to die here, he must finish what we started.
From the hand of Barleyburr:
Courage, Brantun! Courage! You won't die as long as Barleyburr is with you! I'll carry you to the heart of fear if I must; you know how strong a belly full of ham makes me! We will rest here a moment and let you gather your strength. It's a good thing I kept some of the ham, even though it is a tad waterlogged now. Rest, Brantun, and I will tell Thistlebrush of our adventures. You should have seen us, Thistlebrush: At night we descended from our perch. I left some ham for the bears -- but not all of it, Brantun, sorry! Beyond the torchlight of the walking trees, we slipped into the river. And how peaceful it was! We floated on our backs, looking up at the stars, watching the dark forms of hills and giants silently float beyond our vision. I was asleep by the time the river emptied into the lake, and was awakened when Brantun grabbed my collar and started yelling at me about golems and living water. The stars disappeared, and I was pulled into a cave. Water was rushing all around. I was swimming in a mug of frosty ale, upended and poured down the gullet of a troll. A moment of weightlessness passed, and then I couldn't breath. I thrashed about and poked my head above the surface. Oh, I don't wish to recall it, seeing Brantun floating face down, his leg twisted at some awful angle, pulsing blood! It must have been the ham that gave me the strength to pull Brantun from the water and up the ladder. He's resting now, and I'm sure he'll be ready to continue soon, if the walking tree doesn't find us first.
From the hand of Brantun:
Barleyburr lifts my spirits, but I doubt we will make good time with my leg as it is. I foresee capture or worse. If you do not hear from us, assume we are dead or imprisoned.
From the hand of Barleyburr:
If we are taken, I'll leave a trail. Follow the ham!