The East PacificBoard

'Well met, Barrywolf,' says Baldar, trying to breathe thru the larger man's hug. 'I see you've grown now.' Baldar's voice is soft, almost tender, Mashinek thinks. He can't ever remember Baldar's voice being soft.

'To you, Baldar, I will always be the little boy nipping around your heels, running into trouble and being chased out of the kitchens' Barrywolf says with the mirth of a child. He lets go of Baldar and shakes the other watchman's hand, and then Mashinek's. The young guard tries his hardest to squeeze back, but has his hand crushed again.

'I come to see my step-father, the King Slothgar. Will you take me to him?' Barrywolf says.

At this, the Watchmen by the Shore grow cold. The smile on Baldar's face melts. Barrywolf notes their change in expression and a sombre look masks his visage. Barrywolf's voice is hard as granite.

'What has happened, Baldar? Is all well?'

Mashinek's mentor doesn't meet the young giant's eyes. 'Oh, no, my son. Things have not been well for a long time now.' He looks away from the visitors.

Barrywolf uses one large hand to turn the old man's jaw towards his. Baldar's eyes are red with mist.

Barrywolf now speaks, in a low firmtone. 'We are here to help, Baldar. Whatever it is that brings tears to your eyes, I, Barrywolf, swear to rid.'

He raises his mace in the air, and all his shipmates follow the same and yell 'THOOM!'.

Baldar pats Barrywolf on the shoulder and smiles. 'Yes, my lad. I know you will. But what ails the King and this land is not of flesh or men. Leave, Barrywolf' he says, looking up at the handsome stranger, 'leave now, while you have your youth and vitality and life ahead of you. Leave this accursed land.'

Barrywolf grows concerned at this, and the puzzlement is obvious to all his shipmates.

His voice reeks of curiosity: 'What can it be, Halder, that you advise us to leave you in sorrow and peril? Nay, we shall stay and fight! But for the life of me, I cannot decipher what makes a man of stone like you sound afraid. You sound like you have given up. Has the enemy of Creation itself loosed upon Heartlandia?'

Mashinek and Baldar exchange glances. He wants to say so much, he wants to chide Baldar for refusing help, for breaking protocol, for not telling him who these strangers are and how he knows them so well. But most of all, Mashinek wants Baldar not to take the name. He begs his boss in his heart not to take the name.

Baldar turns from Mashinek to the tallest man in the group: 'Ah, Barrywolf. Ah, ah, Barrywolf. Do you remember when you were a kid, how you pestered me and my soldiers for stories of ghosts and goblins? You loved those stories.'

Barrywolf laughs sheepishly and scratches his hair. His countrymen laugh with him.

'Perhaps,' Baldar continues, 'had I known then what I now know, I would not have taken such delight in telling them to you. Heartlandia, my son, is beseeched by Terror Made Flesh. It is the creature of nightmares, the Devil beyond the Deep.'

Barrywolf continues to look puzzled. Mashinek quietly mouths the word no, but Baldar doesn't stop:

'It's called... GrendeLenny'

From the pits of the ground, an insane laughter emanates that chills Mashinek's bones. Many of the strong soldiers jump at the unearthy sound. One barely manages to avoid falling.

For the first time, a look of worry crosses Barrywolf's forehead. But he quickly gets back his confident look, and says to Baldar, 'Whatever it is, old friend, we shall fight it together. I shall never leave my former protector and adopted motherland in its time of peril. Take me to Slothgar, Baldar.'

Mashinek sees the old man plead with the young warrior with his eyes. He loses the non-verbal debate, and turns his eyes to Mashinek's.

'Follow me, my friends,' Mashinek says, acknowledging Baldar's commands. 'We will ride you to SlowrotHall, where the King currently mounts.'

So saying, he turns and walks towards the horses, and the legion of giants walk behind him. He hears the evil laugh of GrendeLenny continue echo in his eardrums, all the way to the horses. He pretends to rub his temples, just to make enough noise to drown out the voice. He tries his best not to let the visitors see his wobbly knees.