Rigo couldn't believe his eyes! He'd never seen remains so ginormous before, let alone heard any stories. Once he thought he'd seen a dragon with his ma, but even that proved to be a small, innocent wyrm. This, however, was something else entirely. Dark bones sat in heaps upon the floor, barely disturbed from where the giant had taken its final breathes long ago. Lodged firmly into its brow, right between its eyes, was a massive greatsword - one Rigo immediately recognized as a brother to the very one on his uncle's hip. With an excited leap, the colt scurried back to the adults of the group, eyes bright and eager as he searched their faces for a plan.

        "You've got to be kidding me..." Rotharde's ire oozed through, his red-brown eyes targeted upon the cleaver and the enormous skeleton.

        "Have you been here before?" The youngest inquired, scampering closer and following his uncle's gaze with a dramatic squint of his eyes.

        "Yes." Ansgrim confirmed, stepping forward and weaving through the winding bones of the giant's leg. "Or at least, one very similar."

        "You mean there could be more?!" Rigo's shout echoed in the adjoining halls, amplified by the stillness of the unmoving air. Immediately they all shushed him, and he sunk back toward's his mothers sides with head low and ears rolling back.

        "It can't be the same one, since we have that blade. This has to be another one." Rustica commented as the two senior males pushed into the space to get closer to the remains. They were eerily siminlar, perhaps darker and dustier than their previous counterpart. Like the last, there were no other artifacts within the space. No long molded leathers or rusted armor. Not even a threadbare cloth to indicate that the giant had worn clothes at all.

        "I didn't know there were giants..." Rigo murmured besides his dam, lifting his head now that the indignation had started to fade.

        "There aren't any, at least none I've heard of on record in the Age of Coursers." Ansgrim retorted, stepping through the ribs after Rotharde. Hewlette padded at his side, though her attention was firmly on the many, many bones more than triple her size. Rustica offered a coursory glance to her packs, where prince's small nose twitched from the seam to test the air, before disappearing beneath the leathers. Even Rotharde's owl Dirigo was quiet, and her stance loosened as a sigh slipped through her nares. This was an easy enough space, surely nothing could harm them here... right?

        Rotharde was scaling rocks and boulders to the giant's skull again, wordlessly advancing towards the brother blade to his own. Ansgrim followed, dutiful but distracted, as he examined the slight variations of this giant and their last. The blanched bones of the previous had been stark in the darkness, whereas this one had long darkened. They were not the same hue as coal, but the depths of umber that had bled into the bones painted an eerie image in the dark.

        "Come on, lets get this over with." Rotharde droaned from his elevated position. He hovered over the jutting sword, and leaned forward to clamp his teeth firmly around the fraying hilt once more.

        "Wait!" Ansgrim's voice broke through the quiet, echoing again down the hall's not unlike the previous exclamation. The flea-bitten gray tapped one of the clavicle's with his hoof. The sound belayed a thickness, and the bone didn't so much as shiver. "These bones are far stronger than the last. This may prove more difficult. Perhaps we should apply a bit more strategy outside brute strength."

        Rotharde simply looked at the gray, before sweeping his gaze to Rustica and Rigo who still remained across the room. Eventually, he muttered his response, "Got any ideas then, Ans?"

        The flea bit nodded, then looked to Rustica. "We'll need your rope."

---

        According to Ansgrim, this should work. They tested to see if the skull could be moved with their combined force, and surely enough, all four of them working together could pull it loose from its resting place. So, the idea was to have Ansgrim - full grown, with a full pack - and Hewlette push against the skull to keep it from sliding with the combined effort of Rotharde, Rustica, and Rigo on the opposing end of the rope. The hilt of the greatsword was wrapped criss-crossed and tied tightly for ample leverage. Based on the angle, it should, according again to Ansgrim, apply the right force for removing the sword.

        "Why are we doing this again? We already have one." Rotharde muttered from the front of the chained line.

        "Because," Ansgrim began, finding the right area for his hooves to avoid slipping, "If we don't keep it, we can at least sell it."

        Rustica and Rigo nodded in agreement, neither too keen on lugging the heavy weapon, but still content with having a prize.

        "Ready?" Ansgrim called to his fellows. The remainder of the party braced, Rotharde in the forward, followed by Rustica, and Rigo at the end to use his youthful energy in any possible way to apply extra force.

        "Ready," They all parroted back.

        "Alright, pull!"