Remains

----> Conner shakes with anger as he desperately wants to charge in and slay these beasts. A cooler head prevails, however, as passed experiences and hopeless odds come to realization. Tears roll down his face as watches the helpless victims; some being herded onto great wagons by the warty hobyah goblin-kin, others being ripped to shreds by the feeding arachnids. Pledging to himself and his god that they shall be avenged, Conner squats in the cover of bushes.
----> Death will come, he thinks. He begins taking mud and wiping it over his face and body as he watches the inconceivable deathtoll rise. Cursing himself for being alone and not attacking, the big man visibly shakes with rage.
----> All he can do is sit silently. Watching. Waiting.

----> When the baleful band finally leaves to the northeast, Conner slips into the empty town. Blade at the ready, the big man begins following the road to the weaponsmith. Maybe he can at the least gather up some supplies: weapons, armor, and shields.
----> Passing across an open field between his jungle position and the nearest building, he sees a corralled area off to his left. To his right, the familiar sight that is The Meaty Tusk can be vaguely discerned beneath layer upon layer of silky webbing. One of the enormous fyrquai spiders meanders across the rooftop of the bar/inn as Conner skulks between two small houses. One of the houses has nearly burned to the ground, the embers still smoldering.
----> Passing between several still burning structures, the flames from which produce enough heat to make Conner back away several times before squinting his eyes and running between them, he finds himself in front of the fish market and the leather tanner's. There, in the center of the lane, lies a bleeding woman, sobbing hysterically on her hands and knees. Above the woman's crying, a horse is calling out in distress with great protesting whinnies. A rapacious hissing and a familiar chittering can also be heard.
----> Rushing to the woman's side, Conner is caught off guard when she screams out horrified at the sight of him. She is bruised and bleeding, and her clothing has been torn from most areas of her body. Shock, he decides, running passed her towards the sound of the equine distress call. Rounding the corner where the bakery rests, windows shattered and its beautiful pastries and bread items pillaged, Conner sees the horse in question.
----> A large war-horse, bridled and wearing periwinkle blue barding marks, is attempting to hold off three black fyrquai at bay while a downed soldier attempts to slowly regain consciousness. It is Captain Jeffries. He isn't moving, but the steed fends off the enormous spiders fiercely.
----> Screaming an enraged battle-cry to Engiddard, Conner draws the attention of the arachnids to his charge. In their distraction, the great war-horse tramples one of the furry-bodied creatures to a pulpy mess. Conner, too, strikes at one of the creatures caught unawares. The huge bastardsword Conner brandishes connects, slashing open the top abdomen of the spider's disgusting carapace.
----> As the wounded spider retreats, Conner's back is left wide open to the second fyrquai. It emits a heinous hiss and jumps, clearing a good distance between itself and its prey. The weight of thing makes Conner stagger, but he does not fall. Barred fangs sink deep into the big man's shoulder, making him howl out in annoyance. The fyrquai releases the barbarian before he can counter.
----> Behind him, the wounded fyrquai is joining his brethren as pulp under the mighty hooves of the white and straw-colored war-horse. Whinnying in fury, the steed bucks and stomps, sending bits of smashed spider flying about the ground.
----> Conner recovers in time to see his assailant charge for another attack. Leaping high into the air, the arachnid attempts to again latch on to Conner's torso in hopes of scoring another bite. Hissing more ferociously now that it has tasted blood, the thing becomes airborne in its offensive.
----> But Conner is ready. Slicing downward through the space before him, Conner fills the air with a crimson mist as he neatly carves into it with his bastardsword. The monster is dead before each half of its body hits the ground.
----> The two combatants regard each other for a moment before Conner decides to stow his weapon. The warhorse stamps his foot nervously in the bloodied earth. Captain Jeffries does not move, though Conner can barely make out the up and down motion of breathing.
----> The barbarian approaches cautiously, intent on helping Captain Jeffries' obviously dire situation.
----> But the horse will not allow it. No matter how he tries, the warhorse guards the downed Captain aggressively. Conner cannot get near without first battling the steed.
----> "Dumb-dumb horsie."

----> Deciding this is not a battle he'd like to partake in, Conner turns about. He looks about for the screaming woman, but she seems to have run away. Conner finds that odd, but does not dwell on it. Women are odd like that.

----> Conner locates the weaponsmithy across the street and enters the great barn doors, pulling them open with bulging biceps. Inside rests a lone figure up against a stone walled forge area. The bald head and handle-bar moustache distinguishes the figure as Osward. In one hand rests what remains of a shattered blade. His other hand has been removed at the elbow. Blood stains the straw he rests on and spreads across the stone floor of the shop.
----> The sunlight from the opened doors makes Osward squint. As Conner enters, the smith coughs out a greeting. Blood runs out the man's mouth and down his chin. It looks as though he attempted to stop the bleeding in his arm with several cloth rags. The soaked bandages lie strewn about. Five dead hobyah also lie strewn about.
----> "Come in, Barbarian… (cough)… get yerself inside," he says.
----> Conner stands stiffly. He can almost sense death waiting nearby to carry this man away. He does what he can to help heal the mortal wounds.
----> "I've something for ye, man… (cough)… something I want to give you…"
----> Conner steps forward and looks closer at the wounded man's bloodied stump. Much blood has been lost. Most likely, he will die.
----> "(cough) Here… here is a key to (cough) that …"
----> Osward produces a small key from beneath his leather apron and Conner takes the key from the injured man's hands.
----> "Behind my scrap…" he starts, pointing to where a large pile of junk metal, sheets, and broken blades rest. "(cough) there is a (cough) hole… take out the long case…(cough)…"
----> Conner does as he's instructed.
----> He removes a long, mahogany box from the hole and carries back to Osward. Life has faded from the man's still open eyes. Conner places two gentle fingers on the dead man's face and forever closes the eyelids over Osward's glazed sight.
----> Conner inserts the small key in the lock on the front of the wooden case. The tumblers click released. Opening it, Conner finds an extraordinary treasure. It is a weapon. A blade. It is a bastardsword.
----> Not just any blade or any bastard sword. This is of obvious worth, apparent from its craftsmanship, weight and balance, as well as sharpness. Its blade gleams in the firelight. It is magnificent. The blade is nearly five feet long with the word ‘Osblade’ etched into its length. The hilt is wrapped in brown leather tethers and its guard and pommel are made of what appears to be gold. Looking at the bottom of the sword’s handle, a large dark gray gem stares back at the awe-stricken barbarian. Flecks of red glint in the fire's glow. It is superb.
----> Conner takes the blade. Kicking a pile of straw from a small push cart at the back of the shop, he begins loading up on as many other weapons, shields, and armor as he can. He can only hope the new found equipment can assist his cohorts sometime in the future.