RP:Morning Watch - meeting a giant

Background

This is part of the A Not So Jolly Hollow Holiday Vacation story arc.

After the Vampiress Roelstra leaves the palace, and before Mahri stirs herself, Cornelius takes the time to backtrack part of their route, to ensure their passage north was undisturbed by any unwanted pursuers.

Somewhere in the Xalious Mountains, one cold morning

One couldn't really call what the Caracara did scampering, so much as fluttered off in pursuit of a distant white mouse. It was a calming, serene sheet white blanket. Loud, crunching footfalls - the yelp of an animal pierced the silence. Half-melted snow was the final resting place of the warm Benu - towering over it was the seventeen foot wildman. Flaming tail was just beginning to extinguish, temporary - unwanted - warmth flickering off skin, accentuating fresh and old wounds alike. The Benu had not gone down without getting a few jabs in, per se. That much was obvious. Unphased though, that would be but the simplest way to describe the look over Jamesworth's blank slate of a visage, corpse of defeated animal rose - two arms underneath supporting the weight - until neck met against barbaric mouth, and the feasting began.

Cornelius was out scouting, ensuring that the group was not being followed from a distance. At this time Mahri would still be at rest with the Colours, so there was time to appreciate the serenity in the softly-falling snow - even if the deuced cold was playing havoc with his cracked ribs. The challenge of the terrain was an entertainment all of its own, and reminded him strongly of the approach to the Portal above the gorge enroute to Cenril. It is not surprising, then, that the sudden crunch-crack-and-slurp of some beast's feasting disturbed his reverie. Trusting to soft movement, and boots enchanted to absorb sound, Cornelius lets his curiosity guide him towards the grotesque cacophony. Perhaps an unwise move, but then, the past couple of days had been dull since that incident with the Draconian. When he finally catches sight of the source of the noise he silently curses. First Glaive, then Andrei, then the Draconian... and now a bloody honest-to-god Giant? They Who Watch were laughing at him.

Jamesworth released an endowed snort, puffing fumes of foggy breath out of large nostrils, which rested - bluntly - beneath two eyes large than feast-worthy saucers. Moment atop moment, breathing, eating - but nature called. The Giant tossed the Benu aside - sending it to a sliding halt just feet from where Cornelius hid - to find the nearest tree which was a mere ten foot pine. Plumes of steam soon began to rise three feet from its base as it occurred as though - what's this? - the giant was drawing a picture in the snow. With his ah, urine, mind, but my my - what a feat! Rather talented really if you ask me but - right, so having satisfied his urinary schedule in a mere thirteen seconds the brashly-dressed barbarian soon began a slumbering, slow return toward his prey. A rather large club - safe to say a hastily created tree trunk rather than a club - dragged through the snow; held in a hand like a toddler might hold say, an unfavored worn out doll.

Cornelius mentally tallies up his luck as the ragged and chewed benu corpse thumps into snow and rock nearby. Has he had enough bad fortune now that it would suddenly turn good again? Pessimistically, Cornelius decides it wouldn't. A shame really, that self-preservation rarely outweighed his interest in the unknown. While the Giant's back is turned to pursue his unique ...'art'... Cornelius perches himself nonchalantly against a rock, arms folded, for all the world like he was in a tavern and contemplating whether it would be brandy or rum that evening. When the giant turns to face him, club in hand, Cornelius says casually "Lovely day for it, wot. Mountain air cures all ills, and all that guff"

Jamesworth is like a deer in torchlight. When you're seventeen some-odd feet tall, you can't really call 'five feet away' a safe distance for anyone of the more none-giant variety. Large eyes grew wide, throat emitting this sort of sickly growl. Lacking threat nor warning - like a dog whom found another's hand too close to his bowl. Trunk-club rose and smashed against the snowy ground below - consider that the warning if you will - eyes tracing Cornelius, 'fore free hand took 'pon feast again. The Benu was well, missing the majority of its neck by now but there was plenty left. Jamesworth plopped down, eyes never leaving Cornelius but bloodied mouth resumed the carnage of aviary carcass, ah, yes, friendly giant! Lucky bastard if you ask me, or maybe he was saving Cornelius for desert...Still, club was within hands grasp, and as settled as he appeared one could easily reason that well, he was a giant...Giant, he was a bit confident.

Cornelius considers the lack of a direct attack a positive sign. "Gracious me, old bean, but that is quite the appetite you have there." He scratches his jaw line with a thumb "I mean, when I've got a hunger, I can get away with an old-fashioned Vailkrin fry-up. Bacon, eggs, maybe some liver and lambs-brain lightly crumbed with fresh bread." He deftly sidesteps as a small chunk of bloodied benu plops beside him, torn loose in the process of the giant's feasting "Ever considered cutlery and a cooked breakfast, my good man? I imagine those things would taste much better roasted". He is forced to sidestep again - the downside of such close inspection from a gorging giant is, by extension, the close proximity of that which is being feasted upon, and all those little scraps which were falling from the giant's maw. After the week he'd had, be damned if he was going to get another shirt all bloodied up.

Jamesworth grunts here and there. Cornelius could consider it a reply, or indigestion, for all the attention he was getting. Other than the eyes, wavering occasionally on a shifting bank of snow from the branch of tree or an ear that actually /perked/ slightly at the lucid tune of a songbird preaching its territorial song. "Ungh." Feast done, what remained of the hastily devoured Benu was thrown away - it got at least thirty feet of air easily before crashing into trees in the far distance, few birds scattered. "Ungh!" Fist grappled against stone, ground shook. "You. When..." Face scrunched up with what could only be a 'thoughtful' expression for him, "I..when shart, bigger. You." He nodded toward the human, "Wide." Hand accentuated the fact, club falling in to snow - least thrice as wide as Cornelius. "Why watch. Snarkle, fitzy!" Hand smashed into snow - another rumble - but he leaned forward, truly, a head as near in height to the human moving to be just a few feet away - looking a meditative pose, "Trisky." he snorted through his nostril, spat a loogey in the snow - full of a dark yellow, unhealthy phlegm. Mostly black teeth showed in a snarl, "Tricksy. Human. Smell of tricks!"

Cornelius smiles up at the giant "Quite accurate on all counts, I assure you. I am indeed human, and have many tricks up my sleeves" A slight flick of his wrist and two silver coins spin in the air briefly before landing on the back of his left hand. With a surreptitious twitching of fingers the coins start flipping and dancing across his fingers and knuckles "What's got me curious, old bean, is what you are doing so far south of Frostmaw, or so far northwest of Gualon. I've not seen giantkin roaming this area before." He lets the coins fall through his fingers, closing his fist, only to turn it and open it palm up - revealing an empty hand. "Naturally, I'm quite aware that you could, indeed, leave me smeared across the landscape with that oversized stick of yours. No need to go thumping the ground. I rather believe I got the gist of it all the first time" He scratches behind his ear with his right hand, before tilting his head slightly "Ahh. There they are." He removes the two silver coins from his ear, and sets them to dancing on the back of his right hand this time.

Jamesworth releases a final grunt, blinks, follows the coins then looks eastward - "Search." He got to his feet, and began heading that direction without too much more being said. Trunk dragging through the snow, soon he disappeared into the deep trees.

Cornelius arches an elegant brow as he watches the giant leave "Well, old bean. At least this morning's watch duty was less dull than yesterday's"

Jamesworth plundered through the forest - it wasn't so much that the trees younger in years were considered more than shrubs to the giant as much as well, he just didn't have much respect for nature. The occasional grunt, trunk-club used as a blunt machete to clear the path to a rather scenic view of the Xalious mountain range, and Kelay Sage a twinkle in the distance: He came to a full-fledged, clumsy stop at a cliff. The impasse kept the giant preoccupied for several minutes, until over-sized eyes looked over the edge to a several hundred foot bottom below. Grunt, grunt, grunt, the seventeen foot tall man began an extremely cautious near child-like stumble toward a goats trail criss-crossing the cliff - halfway down he paused, bad eyesight obviously hindering what had been there all along: What appeared to be a campsite, complete with pit and ragged tent - obviously long abandoned.

Cornelius, convinced by the strength of his provoked curiosity, carefully follows the giant from a distance, wrapping his cloak around him to ward against both watchful eyes and bitter cold.

Rock began to skitter down under his feet, trail threatening to cave under the strain of the giant's massive form and - it happened suddenly - it did. There was not so much as a shriek, only a dull 'Unnngh' that resounded quietly in the area as the giant plummeted the last hundred feet. The snapping of leg bones, pelvic bone, likely spine - that didn't compare to the enormous crash as he met with a ten foot pint below. By random occurrence the tree was oddly split before it cracked, so as that three feet of wood pierced - impaled, really - his gut all the way through. Huge hands reached earnestly, pained visage with a grip of blood from prior meal and freshly acquired wounds - towards the half-torn down tent just out of reach. A rustle of wind, a shallow breeze in the secluded nook created the sound of metal beating against metal....and as Jamesworth took his final breathes, quest failed, flaps parted enough in the wind to reveal a set of golden rings carefully encased in a worn oak, glass panelled container. Surely there would be worth for such a set.

Cornelius glances down the ravine. There, but for the grace of being smaller and lighter, goes he, as it were. His curiosity sated, he ignores the glint of gold. It had lured one oversized fool to his death. No need to add his own corpse to the tally. With a slight salute to the bloody wreckage of flesh and bone below, Cornelius makes his way back to the ice Palace.