As NAME wrung out his/her cloak after leaving the swamp, a ragged, cut and bruised merchant came running down the hill. Panting, he semi-coherently related a tale of frosty giant devastation inflicted upon him and the rest of his caravan by the very tall Frost Giant Thorgrimm. The giant must be stopped!
The adventure continues . . . NAME thought he/she must have been close. The ground was covered in ice and littered with twelve-foot boulders. Carefully weaving between them, NAME heard the giant's heavy breathing. Peeking from around a boulder, NAME spotted Thorgrimm assembling some sort of contraption. It was a giant catapult! If he finished it, he would be able to hurl the enormous boulders down on the town below!
The Frost Giant was almost done, but he was foolishly standing in the sling where the boulders would go while he adjusted something near the pivot point. The counterweight was set, and all NAME needed to do was to release the mechanism and Thorgrimm would find himself hurling through the air. He/She pick [sic] up a rock and aimed carefully.
The rock sailed straight for the lever and hit it square on. The catapult launched Thorgrimm into the air, and he sailed halfway down the mountain before hitting the rocky ground with a sickening crunch. He didn't move at all when NAME stole his giant-sized coin purse.
Just as NAME threw the rock, he/she slipped on the icy ground and fell flat on his/her back. The rock hit Thorgrimm on the ear, and he turned to see where it had come from. NAME had to scramble to avoid the icy blasts Thorgrimm hurled as he/she fled. Not all were avoided completely.