Druk leads the group into a cleft between dark rocks, where the wind thins to a murmur. The plateau chill stays outside. Smoke from the burned dwelling trails far behind them.
He pours the gin. The smell rises sharp and sweet in the shelter, and the others settle in close enough to share the warmth.
Bruk
There, now. A proper pause. You want the giants' history, you need the first knot in the rope.
Bruk
The Thruhhul did not always keep to one ridge. They traded passes, took insults, and answered blood with blood, until the old cairns became their arguments made stone.
Bruk speaks with careful certainty, hands moving as if he is laying borders in the air. Roggo listens without interrupting, eyes on the horizon, while the rest of the war-band quiets around the drink.
Bruk
That is why they watch borders like hawks. A hill is never just a hill to them. It remembers who stood on it last.
The smoke fades smaller against the sky. For a moment, the rocks hold the wind, the gin warms the throat, and Bruk seems ready to go on.
“I drink and listen”
SUCCESS (Fair Willpower, rolled +2)
Druk tips back the cup and lets the gin burn a clean path down his throat. He keeps his eyes on Bruk, listening without interruption as the warmth settles into the rock nook.
Bruk
That is the shape of it. Giants remember the first insult longer than the first gift. We teach our sons the cairns before we teach them the hunt.
Bruk
A border is not only a line. It is a story told so many times it hardens into law. That is why your pact matters, Druk.
Roggo snorts softly into his beard, then settles back again, still listening. The smoke on the horizon thins to a gray thread while Bruk talks on.
Bruk
The Thruhhul prize a leader who can bargain without blinking. They will remember that you came with drink, not fire.
Druk finishes the cup, and Bruk immediately pours a little more for him, treating the motion like part of the lesson. The pause feels companionable, almost ceremonial.
Bruk
There is one more thing. Our old paths mark trade stances, sled places, and the racks where meat hangs in winter. If you mean to keep this pass honest, you will need iron hooks as much as rims.
“I grunt, remark on it and say we should get back to the castle”
SUCCESS (Good Agility, rolled -1)