Thorgar grunts and slogs onwards though he keeps his greatsword drawn and stays close to the light of Thordan's scimitar. He keeps an eye out for likely locations for a campsite, but hopes to reach a stretch of forest that sounds alive.
The quiet does not abate. Every step echoes in their ears. The crunch of the snow and frozen ground seeming far too loud.
The strands Haaken pointed out get denser. After a few more minutes of walking they seem to lightly coat everything. They reach out from beneath piles of snow and crawl up trees. They seem web-like but are not sticky. They are simply a strange lattice-work of strands.
"Well this isn't good. I say we build ourselves a fire, make up some torches and then start hacking these webs, or whatever they are, up and see what comes a' calling. I'd rather face off while we're all awake and ready than have whatever passes for a spider this close to Irrisen come slinking up in the night with only one of us on watch."
If nobody objects the barbarian gathers up a few sticks, and some bark for kindling, trying to avoid the webs as much as possible, and creates a small pile kicking away the snow until he reaches earth to set it upon. Then he attempts to start a fire by placing one stick atop another and rolling it back and forth at speed between his palms,
It takes a while, but eventually Thorgar manages to start a fire. The bark of the trees is frozen but relatively dry so it takes slowly but keeps once the embers start.
Unfortunately, there are surprisingly few low branches and not much fallen timber. There are plenty of old fallen needles that are useful for starting a fire, but to keep it going for any length of time it looked like someone was going to have to climb a tree and cut some branches.
Thorgar blows on the embers to get a small fire going and then casts about for more timber, growling as he realizes he is going to need to climb for it.
"Don't suppose any of you brought an axe? No? Troll's teats," he mutters moving over to the slenderest tree and hefting his greatsword.
"I'd rather attract a bit of attention and be warm than freeze in the dark. Keep the fire going will you, I'll have this down in soon enough," then, if there are no objections, he begins hacking away at the tree with powerful swings of his blade that send snow sprinkling down from the canopy.
Once the tree begins to lean he shifts his poition lining it up so it will fall away from him and the fire, and then continues swinging.
After splintering and halving enough of the frozen wood, to make a small pile, Haaken draws an unusual looking longsword from the folds of his kit, and wipes the blade with with a well worn skin detailed with patterns of celestial script surrounding a seven pointed star motif.
I'll hold watch against the night. The darkness holds no light from my eyes, and the cold offers little discomfort."
Haaken looks to Thorgar, and holds out a whetstone.
Thorgar grunts his thanks, giving Haaken a solemn nod and taking the whetstone. He builds up the fire and lays out his bedroll, sitting cross legged upon it and setting to the task of returning an edge to his battered blade,
"Aye, well wake me in a couple of hours and I'll stand the next watch. No point playing the hero and being too tired to fight tomorrow," he grizzles, though there is nothing of admonishment in his tone.
Once he is satisfied with his sword, he retrieves his waterskin and a small wrapped package of a crumbly biscuit-like substance. He eats this with several disgusted grunts before downing the contents of his waterskin and refilling it with snow. Tossing the whetstone to Haaken he says,
"So, Haaken, me, Thordan, then Raven, that work for watches? Two and a half hours each ought to give us all a decent nights rest."
"Prudence laces your words, friend.", Haaken smiles.
Lifting his own waterskin to salute the gruff man, he takes then takes a healthy draught, slips the skin into his belt and moves smoothly to start his patrol.
"That works for me Thorgar. Each of us should make sure the fire is stoked on their watch. Now unless anyone else objects, I am hungry and am going to make some food."
Thorgar grunts ambiguously, but does not complain about Thordan's proximity, at least he's warm, fur would come in handy right about now.
He tries to get some shut eye, but resolves to keep his nostrils on standby incase what Raven's cooking smells good and she feels like sharing.
Dinner is warm but somehow not completely satisfying. Only Haakan seems immune to the draining and numbing effect of the cold.
As the others bed down Haakan leans back against a tree and listens to the hollow silence of the wood.
Time crawls on and the moon finally crests the mountains spilling soft light through the branches. The gosamer webs, the icicles and the rivlets of ice running down the trees go from soft glittering in the firelight to a breathtaking sparkle as far as Haakan's celestial eyes could see.
He found himself staring off down the path where the competitive lack of trees made it the only truly black expanse anywhere around him.
Will Save
Haaken stares at the coalescing sparkles, bemused.
Raven stands, draws her scimitar and immediately moves into the shadows just beyond the campfire for a cloak of secrecy while she begins a search.
She begins a thorough look around the area to see what is around.
Haakar and Thordan were missing.
Raven quickly spotted a pair of tracks in the thin snow leading off the path and deeper into the glittering wood.
Raven moves to Thorgar to wake him up.
"Hey, wake up. Haaken and Thordan are gone." she says while moving him with her foot.
Thorgar starts awake leaping to his feet and wrenching his greatsword free from its scabbard before his eyes find Raven, and takes hold of himself processing her words,
"Gone? Even the rodent couldn't be stupid enough to go wandering off alone at night of his own back. Linnorm balls, the mouse was my light, give me a moment I'll need torches."
Muttering darkly he selects several of the tree branches, snapping off twigs and wrapping the ends of each branch in cut off segments of his hemp rope - worried that the newly dead branches will struggle to burn alone. He stuffs four of the makeshift torches into his scabbard and light another from the fire hefting it in one hand and his greatsword in the other.
"Let's do this, if they walked out of here without waking us like as not they've been ensorcelled by someone - or more like something," he growls, "if we see them with something I say we strike first and ask questions later."
The trail was clear. Raven and Thorgar rushed through the snapping undergrowth after their companions, Thorgar's torch flickering in the wind.
Finally, ahead of them they made out a pair of silhouettes, one large one small, walking slowly into the dark.
"Snap out of it you addled fools, where the hell do you think you are going!" Thorgar bellows, rushing forward, eyes darting warily about, taking care to keep Raven out of his torch light incase she wishes to remain hidden.
In the distance in front of them is a small cluster of dancing lights, something like fireflies, but with a paler gleam.
The lights seemed to be calling, like a luring dream. For a moment Thorgar forgot all about his body and was simply lost in child-like mesmerization. It was beautiful and made him forget the woes of his mind. The painful past was simply lost in the wake of the wonderful now.
But for Thorgar, the past was too much a part of who he was, and his warrior mind was too strongly anchored to his sense of self. All the anger and frustration and self-loathing was anchored to the idea that at some point he had value. His entire life had been shaped by the guilt of not living up to his own inerrant worth, of not becoming better than who he had been born as. Of giving in and somehow becoming less than a man. In this instant, the guilt saved him. Not even for the bliss of forgetting could he let go of it. He simply hated himself too much to allow himself to stop being punished.
He stumbled, then righted himself.
Thorgar roars his jaw clenched and teeth gritted, trembling with barely checked fury and loathing.
"Try to mess with my mind you twinkly t~%@s! I'll carve you into faerie dust! I've taken dumps more frightening that you!"
Thorgar hurries forward and bars his companions passage, growling,
"Snap out of it you dullards!"
If they still fail to respond he tries to trip Thordan using a foot, but stumbling.
Thorgar stumbled from the shove and blinked, momentarily confused and suddenly very sad. It was like being jarred awake from the most pleasant dream he could ever remember.
"Time to stop dreamin' mouse, that faerie lght is taking you somewhere I'm guessing you don't want to go. Now I suggest we wake Haaken, and see if we can't snuff this spirit. And I could use some more of that light of yours, on my sword if you can, since the rest of you seem to see fine and I can't carry a torch and wield my blade properly," Thorgar rumbles, breathing hard as he strives to restrain his inner fury until his companions are back in control of themselves.
|
Ok I don't have much strength left Thorgi but I will try my best.
Thordan squints his eyes whiskers twitching as he touched Thogar's greatsword while squeaking. A glow began to spread out from the point where Thordan hand is in contact as the light began to consume the greatsword The huge surface area of the sword cause it to be a beacon of light in the overwhelming darkness surrounding them.
"Haaken, snap out of it!" Raven says and she shakes him.
Will Save:
For a timeless moment, Haakan finally understood the true nature of peace. His blood sang with heaven's joy and his mind echoed with serenity. Then it was gone, fading as fast as the details of a dream and he was standing in the cold, dark wood. The loss of it was heartbreaking and disorienting.
Suddenly Thordan's oversized ears picked up a faint tinkling, like distant bells ringing at a very high frequency. The sound was discordant, ringing fast and angry.
The dancing sparkles suddenly rushed forward and seemed to swell, encompassing them all for a moment in a glittering strobe.
Will Save
Haaken stirred from a dream.
Shaking his head he banished the idyllic world in his mind. Another illusion, just as real as the rest of the world. "The cause of all suffering is desire", the Vaekha had said. "Beyond deity, there is more."
Absorbing the scene around him, he saw his new companions shivering in the cold night. His higher mind told him that they were here because of him.
Taking several deep, controlled breaths, he tried to center his soul with ancient techniques, but the anger he felt at failing his first trial on this quest quivered beneath the placid lake of his thoughts.
He flourished his sword in an effort to dispell the desire for vengence.
Is everyone unhurt!?!", he asked.