By afternoon, the battlefield is quiet. Dagg’s allies remain at Nabbitt Farms: Tarna, Gandien, Thren, Veyra, Victor, Bram, Drim, Panko, Corin, Jack, Merrin, and the wounded Valtor beyond the fence.
Merrin and Bram replace scorched fence posts while Drim clears ash from the eastern boundary. Thren inventories damaged arms, and Veyra directs repairs around the farmhouse without disturbing the graves beneath the oak.
Tarna Óhagganlegur
The dead are gone, but the living still need shelter, food, and honest answers. We rebuild those first.
Inside, Gandien rests beneath fresh blankets while Panko and Corin mend the damaged storehouse. Jack keeps watch from the road, and Victor sorts spell components in the great shed.
King Gandien
Your secret is yours to reveal, Dagg. But the crown must record the Queen’s defeat and the cost of this defense without naming what you wish concealed.
Beyond the fence, Valtor keeps his injured wing tucked close and watches the ridge. Tarna’s golden shield hangs beside the door, its runes dim now, though ash still marks its rim.
The farm stands wounded but defended. Every repaired board, guarded path, and quiet room now carries the weight of what Dagg has hidden, and what his allies chose to protect.
Dagg Nabbitt's turn“Do as you must my King, now if you dont mind, I am going to go rest. {Dagg walks over to his bed and lies down, Victor waddles over eating food and simultaneously casting a healing spell on dagg, clearing up most of his injuries.}”
Dagg Nabbitt
Do as you must, my King. Now, if you do not mind, I am going to rest.
Dagg crosses the farmhouse room at an unhurried pace and lowers himself onto the bed. The movement draws pain from his wounds, but the quiet mattress receives him at last.
Victor
Rest, then. I can mend what battle left behind while I finish this excellent meal.
Victor waddles to the bedside, chewing as he works. One claw continues lifting food to his mouth while the other traces a careful healing spell over Dagg’s battered body.
Soft green light settles over Dagg’s shoulder, ankle, skin, and punctured wounds. The worst of the pain recedes, leaving him bruised and exhausted but able to breathe without fighting his body.
Victor
There. Not perfect, but most of the damage is cleared. Sleep will finish what magic began.
Victor returns to his meal as the farmhouse settles into its evening rhythm. Outside, repairs continue and quiet voices keep watch, while Dagg finally lets his eyes close in the home he defended.
The farmhouse room settled into evening quiet, filled with the faint creak of repairs beyond the walls.
Dagg Nabbitt
Still here. That’ll do.
Dagg let the ache in his bones become proof rather than punishment, and closed his eyes.
Outside, Nabbitt Farms endured: fences rose, ash was cleared, weapons were counted, and the fallen were left in honored rest. The Lich Queen was defeated, the crown could keep its careful record, and Dagg’s secret remained his own. In the farmhouse room, bruised and weary, Dagg finally rested while the living carried the world gently onward.