Morgaunt scouted ahead, following the strange tracks. Before long she returned, and the others noticed she was scowling.
"An ogre or a giant, I'm certain of it. Seems to have made its lair near an old abandoned tower."
"Well then," mused Sir Godfrey, "we should probably give it a wide berth and get back to the quest." Iago nodded at this, as he was impatient to follow up on his prophetic dreams.
"There's probably a bounty on it", piped up Wicklow the mystic, grinning. All eyes turned to him as he smiled and rubbed his hands. They didn't take much persuading. The lure of coin for some, glory for the others, did the trick. They gathered their things and set off towards the lair Morgaunt had spotted.

Upon reaching the area, Wicklow volunteered to scout out the place and try and find the creature, claiming that his people had a knack for not being seen or heard, so he was the best choice. He was keen to nab the reward he had imagined, and also to be able to brag about being a monster hunter in the ale-houses of Grimhold.

The Halfling carefully crept forward, and soon noticed piles of gnawed bones and patches of blood on the grass. Corpses littered the area. Wicklow jumped with surprise as one of them moved. It was a wounded survivor of a previous attempt to slay the monster. After a brief introduction he directed the poor fellow back to his comrades and continued to scout. The survivor was one Wilbert, an unfortunate adventuer. Despite his wounds he volunteered to help the party. Luckily they had a spare sword, as he had lost all his gear in his encounter with the monster.
The gathered adventurers waited impatiently for the halfling to return. Soon they heard him yelling at the top of his voice, surprisingly loud for one so little.
"Monster! Monster! Monster!" So much for stealth. Then they heard another voice; booming, bestial and terrible...
"Fee! Fie! Foe! Funt!
I smells the blood of a short-assed runt!"Wicklow had disturbed the creature, and any hope of surprising it was gone.
"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed, darting off as fast as his little legs could manage.

Thankfully his comrades, including the wounded Wilbert, were all dashing forward with their weapons drawn, shouting curses at the monster to distract it from the diminutive mystic.

Iago and Sir Godfrey were the first to make contact. Iago bravely slashed at the creature's legs, driving it back with pathetic plaintive cries of pain.

Next came Lenore and Wilbert. Wicklow had ceased fleeing, and had turned to join the fray too. As Lenore charged forward, the monster regained its composure, and lifted a mighty boulder above its head. Letting out a great roar it brought the rock down on Lenore, crushing her under it! Sir Godfery leapt into action as its attention was on Lenore, however one swift kick from the creature left him crumpled on the ground.
"Noooo! Take this, you devil!" screamed Wicklow, trying to plunge his short sword into the ogre's flesh, but a casual back-handed slap sent him flying into the air, disappearing out of sight into a clump of bushes.
Oh dear. It seems this monster-hunting lark isn't as easy as they thought. Does anybody have the number of a reliable witcher?

But never fear, Iago Loyola is here! This week it was his turn for an heroic moment. Springing forward in righteous and furious anger his sword sang, slashing open the guts of the beast before it had the chance to do more harm. As its snake-like intestines poured steaming all over the ground, it whimpered and sank to its knees. With one clean stroke Iago then beheaded it.
Ha! Turns out monster-hunting
is a doddle after all. That's something noteworthy that Iago can put on his CV now.
Victory was secured, but it was time to count the cost. It so happened that Wicklow had merely been knocked unconscious, and Sir Godfrey had suffered a nasty bang to the head, but one that he would soon recover from. Lenore however was grievously hurt, possibly with multiple broken bones. She would not be partaking in any adventuring for quite some time, if at all. This news dampened the mood somewhat for the group, perhaps it had not been worth it after all. But Wilbert had been impressed, and asked to join the merry band. Without hesitation his request was accepted. The more the merrier, especially when you already have three adventurers not fit for combat.
The next day Wicklow's hunch was confirmed to be true. After many locals (and more than one of their own monks) had been devoured, the Celestine mendicant order had posted a bounty on the ogre. It was only two gold marks, but the halfling said that was nothing to sniff at.
"Enough for ale and strumpets, eh, Nev?", he quipped, nudging Neville with his arm. Neville, sharing Wicklow's taste for those two things grinned and nodded.
Upon collecting their reward, the monk that paid them, one
Frater Sandro, was so impressed (as he had given up any hope of the monster actually being defeated) that he expressed a desire to join the company. It was time for him to go on his 'fighting pilgrimage', something these mendicants are wont to do, it would seem. Iago was happy to have a fellow man of faith join them, hopefully he might have an improving effect on Wicklow and Neville's moral laxity.
As they continued their journey they saw a notice board at a nearby crossroads. The guild-masters of Grimhold had issued a contract request. Even though they had other stuff to do, it couldn't hurt to look into it. Grimhold was on their route, after all.
So, two new party members have joined. I really must get painting. We need figures for
Brom,
Wilbert and
Frater Sandro now. Hopefully I'll post the pics of them soon.