Open Chronicles Homecoming

[Amhlaidh]

Mountain Road, The Northern Spine

Dwarves built things to last.

The old road probably hadn't seen traffic like this for over a century but it was coping well. The whole mountain range had been full of holds back then, the roads in between thick with traffic, above and below the surface. It was a far cry from nowadays, Belgrath the last proper hold in the Spine, a mere handful of tributary settlements surrounding it. The Spine overrun by orcs and worse, savages cavorting amongst the ruins of older civilisation. Rangers claimed on a clear day that the smoke from Molthal was visible for hundreds of miles, the forges continually churning out armaments for war.

And yet the road was still there. Cracked and broken in places, grass growing in others, but it could still take a cart or wagon. It handled the logistics train well enough, they'd only had two breakdowns since leaving Belgrath. Amhlaidh paused at one outcrop to spit over the edge before resuming marching. Behind him came the assorted wagons piled high with supplies. Other travellers marched with them, mostly dwarves but there were other species intermingled.

It had been a disappointment to realise that many dwarves in Belgrath were content with their lot. They were happy to live in a half empty city, not risking it all to venture north to some abandoned stronghold. Amhlaidh and the others had been forced to recruit mercenaries, sellswords, and all matter of freebooters to expand their ranks. It pained him to know they'd be entitled to a share of the spoils but needs must. Traditionalists had grumbled but even they'd come round when Amhlaidh had pointed out that at least it meant less dwarf blood being shed.

Carraig Gorm had been the jewel of the northern holds but been one of the first to fall to the old enemy. Resettling it could be the spark they needed. The holds have been in a slow decline for centuries, they'd narrowly avoided being eliminated from the Spine when a legion from Molthal battered at the very gates of Belgrath. In a way he couldn't blame his kin for seeking new lives in the west, there was little left to them in the Spine bar war and devastation.

A shout came from the front of the column and Amhlaidh forced himself into a run. Dwarves could march for days if they had to, sleeping footfalls and eating when they could, runners they were not. Snarling through his teeth, he pushed through the crowd to see the obstacle. Two massive tree trunks laid across the road in a crude barricade. It'd be a couple of hours work to get through it.

Floi was atop the trees, testing the toughness of the bark with his axe. "Should be grand" he pronounced with a grin, a second before an arrow struck him between the shoulderblades. The dwarf pitched off the trees to hit the dirt. Cries came up from the column as more arrows rained down. Amhlaidh had his shield up in a flash. "AMBUSH!" he bellowed, war horns sounding from the wagons. He caught sight of cloaked figures moving on the slopes above them, bows in hand.


OOC: Join an expedition to a lost dwarven hold! Non dwarves welcome too if they're willing to lend their swordarms. Gold promised to survivors. Adventurers needed to help explore the old tunnels.

 

[Tholiel Ironarm]

Tholiel had signed on when the mention of taking an old hold had been made. It was pleasant to see that at least some dwarves had an interest in making an attempt to retake the old glory they had. Even if it was beside a bunch of mixed and matched sell-swords looking for glory, and treasures. The latter wasn't so much of Tholiel's concern, it was what awaited them in the old hold. It had been abandoned for some time now. Gods only knew what could have moved in while no one had bothered even looking.

The road wasn't the best she had come across, but it was by far not the worst. Some time in her travel the path to a town had been little more than a game trail that was shared by both man and beast. The dwarf had nearly twisted her ankle seven different times on that little path, finding dugouts in the road that threatened to swallow her foot.

This was was at least somewhat paved.

A call from closer to the front of the column had the woman moving with, if she remembered accurately, was the organizer for this little trip. She heard the one in the tree speak before the thump of an arrow had her spinning. She knew that sound too well. In her travels through the world outside Belgrath, she had been the victim of several arrow stickings, thankfully all non-lethal due to poor marksmanship. She wasn't going to hang around and re-live those moment's however.

Tholiel kept the hammer on her back, moving to a dwarf that fell and taking the tower shield they had on them. What a dwarf considered a tower shield, and a human considered a tower shield were two very different concepts given the height difference. The full coverage of a dwarf's shield could count as a kite shield for most humans of average size. This one served her well however, most of her form covered as she began to cut a path up to the archers above.

She had their attention certainly, hearing the arrows skirting across the shields top and tinging off her chest-plate at extreme angles. One grazed her arm, another her leg as she tried to curl tighter and present more shield in the snowy trail she was blazing.

 

[Amhlaidh]

Amhlaidh swore to himself as another arrow glanced off his shield. Dwarven forged steel was strong but the impact still jarred his arm. He could see others gritting their teeth and cursing the bandits. He'd have some nice bruises to show for it in the morning.

"Someone shoot back!" he barked, risking a look over his shield. A few dwarves were already shooting back with crossbows, popping up from behind the shields to let off a bolt before ducking back down. There was loud whirring all along the line from the arbalists readying their weapons.

The ambush had the same frustrating result the others along the route had had. The attackers proved reluctant to come within axe range of the dwarves so they were happy to stay at a distance and rain arrows down at them. This generally meant the dwarves hunkered down, shields up, until the attackers got bored.

Thankfully this particular group decided the risk wasn't worth it. A few more desultory volleys and they retreated. Amhlaidh straightened his back with a crack while others moved to grab the wounded. A work party moved forward with axes to clear the obstacles.

The delay had cost them a handful of dead, twice as many wounded, and several hours of progress. The only thing that lifted Amhlaidh's spirits was news from the scouts that they'd found dwarven ruins ahead.

 

[Nora]

One minute you're just walking around with a band of imbeciles on the way to a long-lost stronghold of your ancestors and the next someone's shooting arrows with reckless abandon. If there were gods Nora would be cursing them. Instead there was this buffoon asking a band of dwarves to "shoot back."

As the attackers retreated Nora moved her way up the caravan. She had positioned herself in the center as she wasn't an idiot. Her brain would be valuable, nay required, if these fools were ever going to stand a chance at rebuilding Carey Grumlo or whatever the northern hold used to be called. Regardless, once Noraleighst had made her way up near Amhlaidh she let him know just how poor of a job she felt he was doing.

"Oi! Ya wanna group of dwarves to shoot back? Yer losin' yer damn mind, ya thinkin' yous brought sum elves wit ya or somethin?"

At no point in Nora's life had she ever held a crossbow nor did she ever intend to. It wasn't proper. What sort of sorry looking dwarf would use anything but a hulking mallet as she had or an axe. The absolute nerve of this man. And he was supposed to be leading the sorry bunch of dwarves!

The pudgy dwarf held a hand up to her chin and stated, "aye, no worries now though, just up 'head be the ruins now! Good thing yer little band of hopeless dwarves hired me on, ya prolly would have twice tha causalities if I eren't here to point it out for ya."

 

[Lokdrarlig]

Lokdrarlig was in need of a home. When he joined the expedition to the lost keep, it wasn't the promise of goods or plunder that had piqued his interest, but the resettling. Decades he had spent in exile, wandering the surface world. Yet he truly never felt at home. Belgrath was nice if a bit empty. Even there, however, he was reminded of his past. Duergar were a rarity - most dwarves would live their whole lives without ever coming across them. Those that did, spoke poorly of his people. Such encounters would be brief, but bloody, usually occurring when a mine goes too deep and treads into Underdark territory. They were cousins, but their relationship was anything but familial.

As he trotted along near the back of the procession, Lokdrarlig rested his hand on one of the large goats one of his kin was using for a mount. While he himself had never particularly enjoyed the riding of other animals, likely due to the fact he was not a particularly strong rider, Lokdrarlig held a fascination with the beasts of burden that seemed so content to just tootle along. He smiled, rubbing his gauntletted hand against the flank of the beast, before heading up further through the group. He was particularly lost in his own thoughts, admiring the various people that had gathered for the event, and found himself almost overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people and races that had come.

The downed trees and the subsequent archers had surprised him. Yet he felt powerless. There was little he could do. Bows were seldom used underground and, as a result, it always took him a few moments to realise such crude wooden-stringed instruments were dangerous. Arrows whistled past him and he ducked behind one of the caravans. A single lucky shot had skimmed his armour but had thankfully been otherwise deflected, leaving a single white scratch across his strangely purple armour.

As the threat cleared up, he quickly departed from the covering behind the caravan and made his way to the front of the group. He wouldn't be much help with the injured, his only real talent was making more injured. Lokdrarlig sighed, adjusted his blackened sun-filtering spectacles, and spoke in his gruff, gravelly, voice.

"Aye, we be close then? Are we ta be expectin' any more trouble?"

 

[Amhlaidh]

Amhlaidh's teeth grated. His mind momentarily pictured kicking the young dwarf off the mountain before he got back control. One fist did tighten but he kept his voice relatively calm. "You'll watch your bloody tongue" he warned her with a growl. Youth of today, gods save us from them. "And show some respect for yer elders too".

He eyed the obstacle glumly, the work party setting to it with a will. Waste not, want not. They'd grab the wood after for fires. "Aye, it isn't much further but the wagons will be a while" he said to the duergar. He looked up at the sun in thought for a moment, "But there's nae stopping us from going on a bit ahead while leaving others here".

He hefted his axe in one hand and clambered onto the tree trunk, stepping across the rest of the barricade. "Lets go give 'em a looksee"

The ruins loomed ahead, the abandoned gatehouse to what would have been Carraig Gorm. From here caravans would have trudged their way through its gates to the outer hold, watched silently by the peaks around it. The gates themselves were long gone bar some worn hinges and shattered pieces of wood. Amhlaidh's grip on his axe tightened as he got into the shadow of the ruins.

 

[Tholiel Ironarm]

Tholiel had trudged to deep, and the shield she had used did little more than impeded her progress when the attackers had retreated. Cursing, she pulled herself out slowly, great hammer not helping her any as she shook the snow from her form. She sniffed before heading to the gathering at the head of the caravan.

Disgruntled at the delay and wounded while looking to the leader. Setting the shield on a wagon, she pulled the strap on her weapon, checking that it still held.

"Feckin' ingrates." She huffed, climbing over the barricade and hefting the hammer as they entered the gates. Her eyes scanned around them, listening as best she could over the scuff of boots and clangor of armor. Her own bracers and chest plate making small noises as she leaned and peaked around corners.

 

[Nora]

Nora glared back at the 'leader' of this escapade. He had a funny way of thanking her for finding the ruins for him. Not to mention the free advice of not asking a band of dwarves to use silly little crossbows despite the fact a few of them carried the contraptions around. Real dwarves built traps and then pummeled their defenseless captors with their bare hands. As the gods intended.

Instead of retorting she espoused a gravely grunt and fell back into line with the duergar, Tholiel, and Amhlaidh as they walked into the gates of this lost stronghold. It was huge and she could tell from the worn out designs and stonecraft that at one time it had been a real sight to see. Had the layabouts that once called this place home not been so incompetent it was possible that Nora herself might've grown up here. A northern gal, sounded absolutely ridiculous.

"Yer tellin' me," she responded to Tholiel's huffing, "bunch 'o savages shootin' they lil arrows 'cause they ain't got the gusto ta face us."

Hopefully there was nothing within the entry way that proved hostile as Nora did not attempt to modulate the volume of her voice in any way. She wished for the others to know that she would never dare to use anything other than her mallet or fists to clobber any of her companions if they got out of hand.

 

[Lokdrarlig]

Lokdrarlig nodded towards Amhlaidh and moved after him silently. He found himself marvelling at the ruins before him, even in decay they held a sense of purpose, authority and he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in him. A rare smile worked his way across his face. "Those savages ran off pretty sharpish, perhaps they fear these 'ere ruins?" His smile faded almost as quickly as it had arrived.

In response to his open question, Lokdrarlig withdrew his urgrosh and carefully armed himself. His was a strange weapon. Made using his people's signature metal-working techniques, it radiated a slight purple hue. Furthermore, its design seemed to combine a deadly axe, on one end of the haft, and a lethal spear-blade on the other end.

As he stepped into the ruins, he was quick to remove the spectacles across his eyes. With no fear of the sunlight blinding him, his pale white pupils adjusted themselves immediately towards the darkened ruins. He flexed, spinning his weapon carefully in a practised circle. Better to warm himself up in case trouble started, as it so often did he mused.

"Where tae first, Cap?" He spoke, turning towards the expedition leader.

 

[Amhlaidh]

The scale was immense. The ruins had been built to last and Amhlaidh gave an appreciative grunt at the sight of good stonework. A dwarf gave credit where it was due and the builders here had known their work. It was sad to see it abandoned but that was more the norm than the exception these days.

His eyes adapted to the dark quickly but he squinted out of habit. "It's quiet but keep yer axes ready" he grunted, kicking aside a piece of scrap metal. Someone had made camp here before but not for weeks by the looks of it.

"Bollocks to this" he muttered, his foot squelching in something soft. He leaned forward a little and gave it a cursory sniff. Orc shit probably. He glanced back at the question, "Just stay on this level for the moment. Don't stray too far, we're just having a wee gander while the others are clearing the trail".

(ooc: Feel free to have anything jump out. Set off old traps. Find a few bodies, whatever strikes your fancy!)

 

[Nora]

Most of these other dwarves weren't as intense as Nora. Huddled around the entry way, staying on the first level, not straying too far? These were the first dwarves in the history of the last century to step foot in this place. Now Amhlaidh expected them all to just hang out, hold hands, and talk about life?

That wouldn't do for Nora, she was far too curious and she was anything but a lost little lamb. "I'm gunna go o'er this whey," she said as she pointed and walked down a long and winding tunnel. It was filled with interlocking spiderwebs, hanging vines from decades of overgrowth, and a foul stench that grew as she pressed onward. Lesser dwarves and mortals would likely be terrified right now as the sense of dread increased the further down she went.

And then a grumbling just up ahead. Around the bend. She couldn't quite make out the noise but it sounded wild. Feral. Certainly didn't sound like an orc though what sort of creature made a rumbling like that she wasn't certain. Her heart rate began to accelerate as her palms sweated. No, she couldn't be getting scared. Fear was an emotion for the weak-willed races. Proper dwarves were only afraid of running out of ale.

Her head popped around the corner slowly, brushing a bit of reddish hair out from one eye, as she gazed onto it. It was a dog. But it wasn't right... most dogs had but one head. This one had five. And massive paws. And it panted at her with an intensity she had never seen.

Nora screamed and ran back towards the group, the multi-headed hound howling and panting as it nipped at her heels and gave chase.

 

[Lokdrarlig]

"Zharr's breath lassy, what manner of beasty have ye brought back for us t'play with?" He grinned. He was roaring a burst of deep and gravelly belly laughter watching the arrogant and loud pup run back from her brief excursion.

With greater dexterity and agility than his armoured and stocky figure should possibly allow, Lokdrarlig spun around Nora and braced the spear end urgrosh in preparation for the huge dog-like creature. He smiled, as his efforts proved successful. The massive creature - unable to stop due to the momentum of its charge - ploughed headfirst into the spear end of Lokdrarlig's urgrosh and impaled itself cleanly through the cranium of one of its oversized heads.

A pained whine and ferocious barking erupted from the remaining four heads, meanwhile, Lokdrarlig was catapulted tens of feet backwards into a stone wall. He landed, somewhat haphazardly, but on his feet looking unphased - urgrosh still firmly in his grasp. The Duergar smiled, he knew this opponent would be lots of fun to play with.

"Aye, 15 crowns tae whoever gets the most heids." He bellowed, his thick duergar accent becoming thicker as he slowly became lost in the combat. He liked his odds at his own bet, but he was curious to see how his kin would do as well.

 

[Kala]

Dwarven Holds had once upon a time been the back bone of the entire Spine. They had traded with nearly everyone and been something of a safe haven to every member of at least somewhat civilized species.

In their hay day they had been rich and more than willing to trade with even the most distant of partners. This had included the members of the Underdark. It was said that the Dwarves were the only people who'd openly dealt with the Drow, and that willingness to cooperate had made them strong. Of course the Holds had eventually fallen one way or another, and most of them were left empty.

With that had come an abandonment of not just life, but stuff, and Kala for one loved stuff.

That was why she was within the Hold when the party encountered the Cerberus, that was why she was nearby picking through a pile of discarded junk when she heard the racket of combat just a few halls over.

Her head turned, a silvery cup in her hand as the ground shook slightly. "What the…"

The Tiefling had come here by happenstance, using ancient tunnels that lead to the Hold from deep within the Underdark. The fact that she'd arrived at the same time as the expedition was mere happenstance.

A frown touched her face, and she slowly slipped the cup into her satchel before standing up and creeping slowly through the halls.

It was there that she found them, spotting the massive five headed hound before turning her eyes on the Duergar fighting it.

"Ugh." Kala said to herself. It wasn't that she hated Duergar, it was just...well they were all simple minded fools who thought their way was the only one. Working with them was almost always a nightmare and she-

Her eyes flickered to the left of the Duergar, spotting a Dwarf just on the bent of the entrance to the hall. "What the hell?"

She asked herself as she wondered what the hell else she was going to find next.

 

[Tholiel Ironarm]

The other dwarf woman ran off, then promptly brought back a friend. With five heads, and barked...a lot. Tholiel was content to go a touch slower than the other, and in the time it took Nora to run there and back again, the hammer wielding dwarf had stepped closer to the other hallways, flanking the whole scene.

When Nora drug the dog back, Lokdrarlig drew it's attention and began to work it over. Tholiel did little more than admire the placement of their spear, and nodded before presenting themselves as another threat when their hammer came whistling into their back leg. "Dunno't need da crowns, but a pelt might be nice!"

A resounding snap could be heard as the dog's hips buckled beneath the strike. A keening whine of pain now that the whole of the beast twisted and slammed into the ground with a delighted, if demented smile from Tholiel sounded again.

 

[Tonwee]

"Oh..."

Tonwee stepped back from the hound. His head receded, halfway back into the cover of his shell. He had been so enthralled by the ruins, turning his head back and forth with his lips fixed into a toothless grin.

He patted down the pockets of his coat. A tinkle of a glass vial. Not glass, but an alchemical paste that would shatter in heat and release an etched frost summon. A short metal rod was in fact two pieces screwed together. If separated bolts of lightning would pass between them for a few minutes. Also of no use.

"...dear," Tonwee eventually finished.

 

[Lokdrarlig]

Lokdrarlig spotted a familiar race as he hurtled back into the stone wall. His eyes, familiar with the pitch blackness of the Underdark, cut through the shadows and discerned the shape of a tiefling. Rare creatures, even in the depths of the world, but they were agile and useful. If this creature was here, they'd made it through the hold from the bottom up - they were familiar, or had at least avoided any dangers that lurked below.

She was skilled. His lips curled into a rictus smile and as he turned his attention back towards the now 3-headed beast before him, he shouted back to Kala in heavy Underdark.

"Wager you a Duergar knife to be our scout." He patted down the purple-hued dagger at his waist. The only thing a Duergar prized more than violence, more than their life, was their weapon. On battlefields the weapons were retrieved first, for they could be used again, a corpse was just a corpse ready to be tipped in the magma flows. It made Duergar blades rare, worth a small fortune within the Underdark to the right people.

"Yin pelt, comin' richt up." He smiled, twirling his urgrosh around so the axe-head was before him and broke out into a sprint before the beast.

A booming Battlecry roared from the Duergar and he ran up a small - almost ramp-like - pile of rubble before jumping onto the back of the giant beast. He came down hard, his axeblade slamming into the back of the devil dog and wedging itself deep within flesh and bone.

Lokdrarlig looked almost comical, like a tiny jockey on a huge horse.

 

[Amhlaidh]

One expected to hear certain sounds underground. Howling wasn't one of them. The deep roar that followed it nearly made his knees shake. "Oh bollocks" was all he had time to say before the monster came bounding around the corner. Some nightmare's vision of what a dog was meant to be like.

When in doubt, charge. Amhlaidh roared like his ancestors were watching, breaking into a run and holding his axe aloft with two hands. He buried the axe deep in the side of the beast, giving a yell of triumph before the beast's twist away from the pain wrenched it out of his hands. He drew a small hand axe, making a dive out of the way a second before a giant jaw would have torn him in two.

 

[Nora]

There was simply too much going on for Nora to pay attention to any one thing. Strange creatures lurking in the shadows, the entirely incompetent expeditionary force which still hadn't slain the multi-headed hound, and the snarling hound itself which seemed to be more interested in defending itself from its attackers to continue chasing the dwarven inventor.

She twisted her head back and forth, noticing the various gashes and wounds the creature had sustained. As the hound flailed and tried to bite at some of her compatriots she took the opportunity to flank it from the side and impact her warhammer onto one of its bloodied wounds. Briskly she moved away from the dangerous creature as it lunged towards Amhlaidh and Lokdrarlig.

Her auburn eyes inspected the end of her hammer. It was coated with a nice mixture of blood and fur. Good enough to look as if she had aided in the attack on the thing. "Oy needa finish 'im off real quick like!" she shouted in a tone of faux exhaustion.

 

[Tonwee]

They had all rushed into battle without a pause. Meanwhile Tonwee was meticulously searching through his bandolier and pouches for something useful. If the dwarves and their allies hadn't rushed forth to meet the hound half way then it would have overrun the tostudo before he had even reached his first pouch.

"Acid...flask..." he muttered and looked up. Too many dwarves in the way.

"Shadow...weave..." blinding everyone and the hound wasn't going to help anyone.

Tonwee's head retracted further into his shell as the battle continued. The hound's fur was caked with blood. Surely it would fall soon?

 

[Lokdrarlig]

Lokdrarlig wedged his urgrosh deep into the spine and elicited a pained cry from the demented beast. He bellowed a roar of himself before leaping off the back of the giant creature, whilst still holding his prized weapon.

A horrible ripping, tearing sound reverberated across the cavern as the force of gravity - and the weight of the Duergar - caused his axe-head to rend the torso of the giant beast. Warm blood spewed out like a geyser from the fresh laceration and coated the grey dwarf.

The beast howled and lashed, releasing a bitter and pained swan song before collapsing into a beaten and bloodied heap into the floor. The mortal wounds that the group collectively inflicted on the beast finally causing it to succumb to the bitter embrace of death.

"Dae we hauld yer horses fur th' rest? or dae we continue? " He spoke loudly, turning his attention back to Amhlaidh.

As he strode back towards the group, Lokdrarlig shook his head violently and discharged globules of blood everywhere.

 

[Kala]

As the Duergar chopped into his foe like a lumberjack might an errant tree, Kala shrunk back into the shadows with a deep frown.

She had seen half a dozen members of this second expedition, and she quickly put together the pieces of who they were and why they were here. She imagined their reason was not far from her own, though while she sought to rob, they likely sought to reclaim.

What would their reaction be to her?

Lips thinned for a moment, and she quickly pulled her satchel a bit tighter and dragged it over the small of her back. Then she pulled out her deck of cards, selecting one in specific. There was a slight flash, and then a bag fell into her hand.

That was quickly tied to her belt as well, and then from it she drew a pair of glasses that sat down on the bridge of her nose.

She had stolen them from an Elbion Professor some time ago, mostly as a joke. "OH THANK GOODNES!"

Kala called as she practically pranced into the clearing.

"I thought that thing was going to kill me!" Her voice was half a squeak.

 

[Tholiel Ironarm]

Tholiel had recoiled after the duergar had jumped atop the beast, and done more to worry about the flailing legs to worry about listening to others as the final blow was made against the beast. Now felled, her attention turned to the new arrival. Eyes narrowed in the dark, blinking once and then twice at the sight.

Komodi? Here? Surely not.

Then words from earlier caught up to her as she thought. Words she could not understand with a glance to the duergar. Not Komodi, but not dangerous, at least not yet. Her gaze fell to the leader of the group, and back to Lokdrarlig.

She kept to herself this time, unsure of what to make of their guest.

 

[Tonwee]

Tonwee took a step back from the blood stained duergar. He looked down to make sure none of it had landed on his clothes or meticulously arranged items. None of which had helped.

"I thought that thing was going to kill me!"

"I thought... it was going... to kill... me too."

 

[Amhlaidh]

Amhlaidh shook his head, still catching his breath from the fight. "I'm game to continue" he said to Lokdrarlig , leaning on his axe. By the gods, if they were meeting this sort of thing in the upper levels, what was it going to be like further down?

He grabbed at his axe when something pranced into the centre, squeaking. His blood was still up after fighting the demon so he could be forgiven for wanting to react violently. "De fuck is that" he swore, keeping his axe up warily. "Be you demon or man?"

 

[Lokdrarlig]

He nodded silently towards Amhlaidh, with a sudden flick of his wrist, Lokdrarlig flicked a few specks of blood from his mighty urgrosh and twirled it lazily at his side.

"She's a tiefling by th' looks o' her, no nice buggers, gey sneaky." When he finished speaking Lokdrarlig paused abruptly then shook his head and breathed deeply. Fighting always brought out a very harsh duergar dialect that was unfriendly to many common speakers.

Calming himself, he turned to the Tiefling and bellowed. "Oi Handle Head. Things'll be getting much rougher, can ye fight?"