"Well, this trip is definitely giving my ego a beating."
This drew an undignified snort from Kate as she accepted the offered crutch. “Oh, so you’re as fragile inside as ya look outside? You should see what I come up with for people I don’t like, Crestwell.” She deliberately slowed her enunciation of his proper name, to make it clear she was at least trying to accommodate him. Somewhat.
Cyrus managed to support Crestwell’s weight adequately, but helping him clamber over the fence was another matter. Keva helped support one of his feet until he was halfway over and out of her reach. Kate did the same once Crestwell had shifted his weight around to try climbing down the beams instead of simply dropping. Cyrus made it over on his own without incident while Keva gingerly picked up Bullseye for his own crossing.
Suddenly, Crestwell’s grip slipped, and his missing hand could do nothing to stop his plummet to the ground. Kate still had a hold of his foot and yanked it across her body, hoping she would be able to break the Venator’s fall. She did, and both of them ended up on their backs, with Crestwell sprawled perpendicularly over her chest, spine twinged but not permanently damaged; and Kate underneath, hysterically laughing with what air had not been knocked out of her lungs.
“Well, that’s just dandy for both our egos isn’t it, Crestwell?,” Meliora guffawed from her resting place. She was still giggling as she helped the mangled Venator back to his feet and handed him his crutch.
Then, footsteps in the distance. Rhythmic, measured, almost like a soldier’s march, or maybe twenty of them, somehow in perfect cadence. Everyone made the same conclusion in short order: The giant was on patrol, and too close to clamber back over the fence to evade.
Moments later, he came into view, armor gleaming in the midday sun. His dark iron plates radiated with more menace than sunlight, and the battleaxe he carried was easily twice as tall as anyone in the party. The opening in his barbute revealed a full auburn beard, and a single, gigantic eye in his forehead...now focused on them. He scowled, then charged, roaring in anger and brandishing his axe above his head.
Kate had just caught Bullseye after Keva had shoved him over the fence. “Holy turdballs!,” the Inquisitor exclaimed before unceremoniously dropping her dog and unslinging her crossbow. Bullseye plopped into a heap and rolled to his left, then his right, struggling to remember how to get to his feet. It took a few more moments of thrashing, but the bewildered little pointer figured it out. Eventually.
The cyclops was still out of bowshot when the Inquisitor had spanned and loaded her crossbow with well-drilled rapidity. “Wait!,” Keva shouted. “We should get back over the fence and see if we can reason with him.”
Kate spat back, “He’ll be on us before we all climb up, and he doesn’t look interested in talking.” She knelt to steady her aim and lined up her crossbow. “Just tell me where to loose to drop him fast. The eye? His gob? His jambags? Someone speak up, or I’ll just start guessing and shooting!”