Well, that's what those things are, right? They move up and down, transmitting their owner's feelings to those around them.

Things went badly. Very badly. Not only did the PCs crash off course, have to deal with highly volatile mahogany trees (Think Territorial Oak from Earthbound), and then nearly get eaten by the Guardian of the Western Forest (a Colossal tyrannosaurus, go figure), but we got captured by knockoff Predators and the spellcasters had their tongues cut out. Oh, and they took the PC's right ears as trophies. (They also gave us front-line fighters an extra roughing-up, since we regained consciousness in transit.) Now the PCs find themselves unable to move beyond what Ori termed "The Thunderdome" because of the harsh consequences of loss (and the domed arena) as they fight for their lives, honor, and...ears. He really shouldn't have fallen in with a group that called itself the "Neurotic Scones," it was never going to end well.

"I have not come this far to die, but I've had better days. In the arena stands a warrior, a fighter by his trade, who carries the reminders of every blow that laid him low and cut him till he cried out, in his anger and his shame: I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains...uh, perhaps now is not the time for filking Simon & Garfunkel."

If you're paying close attention, he's not wearing the same armor that he had earlier. The Venators (those knockoff Predators) took the party's equipment and issued them various mundane weapons and armor. Ori ended up trading up from his admantine breastplate to a plain old set of steel full plate...which even fit him properly. Oh dear. He's not the first dragonthing they've captured and possibly killed in the arena. (There was a major war between the polity with the mining company that employed Ori and the Venators, both were Kardashev I-II civilizations with multiple worlds, and the Venators were presumed wiped out.)

Artwork, Ori © of me

Lyrics based off of "The Boxer" by Simon and Garfunkel.