"I am right here in front of you, Zethyris. What are you talking about?"
Zethyris takes a quick step back, hand reflexively moving to his rapier's hilt.
"I cannot see you. You are invisible to my eyes. Did you not do this yourself?"
As Ana's voice moves, Zethyris turns to follow it.
"What? I don't get what this is about - but very funny, both of you. Haha."
Zethyris is confused by Ana's reaction. Does she not realize she is invisible? Perhaps the magic only changes her to other eyes. If she did not cast this spell herself, then is someone else up here? What trickery are they playing at? Or perhaps this is merely meant to be a great jest - in which case I think Ana could use a lesson in humour...
Zethyris glances about the rest of the tower's top on the off chance he happens to see something else up here."Truly, you are totally transparent. By the Lucky Drunk, I swear I am not joking. Can you use your magic to make invisible things appear? Is there some way we can restore magicked things to their original form? With what just happened, I don't know if you should head back in there with an invisibility spell on. It might create... problems. If needed, I could try and surreptitiously bring Skallangbiorn or Isham up. I don't want to see a repeat of earlier's... difficulty."
"To go to Trollheim, Master Bron, if blood and steel fly in this place, I will only hope my travel is swift and Gorum is generous to add more armsmen to the fight." He inclines his brow in respect to the dwarf war chief and turns to the group. "I regret only that we will nods be shedding our blood side by side my new brethren."
Not standing on ceremony he gathers his gear to go. "I'll see to the camp's wounded, then seek solitude for the evening. If it's satisfactory, I will leave for Trollheim at first light."
Skallangbiorn steps to the side, ready to go see to the wounded once all is concluded in the room.
"We don't want the earlier difficulty either. We were just up here discussing it. I was trying to reassure Ana of everyone's wanting her to remain with us and quite honestly we were also just taking a moment to take in the view. I guess our respite has ended. Where are we to be sent?"
"Excellent Bron, I'll connect with the Second Company. Who's quartermastering that flank? I'll want to check supply and support lines as I make my way to them."
Checking details, time, and distance on the maps and documents, "Second Company should be able to hold, but if Jediah and his company can secure that tower, can we deploy them forward to make a decisive move on that Southern flank?"
"Nay lads, Coryss tower is leagues to the south, well beyond the current battle lines. I'd rather send a full centas there but we'll have to hope that quality makes up for quantity." his finger follows the line of the river before stopping at a region with several dots and names, "The river it's guarding leads right into the heart of the south lands. Isham you'll be taking control of this area," pointing to an area close to your current location, "Savol was trying to save the captain of second company when this all happened so he's probably in the vicinity. I expect you to take advantage of any trouble he causes and if you see him tell him to get his blasted arse back here."
"There you are, we're just finishing up. Thorvald, see this town? It's called Greyson landing. I want you to head over there and take charge of its defences. There's plenty of people there and no way to evacuate them mid winter so instead we install a garrison, kinda like defending against raiders but on a wee bit bigger scale. And Ana, I've got a tough task for you... If you are able." he pauses and looks right at her instead of the map, "The biggest trouble we've had so far are the enemy spell slingers. I want you to move through the battle locating them and pointing them out. A trio of hunters, two brothers and a sister, recently joined us so I want you to accompany them. I'm hoping that those witches will be too worried about being shot up that we'll buy us some breathing room for our men."
"Go on, most of you can get some sleep, the real work starts tomorrow."
Still upstairs:
"Are you serious? I don't think I can do that ... wait, let me check ... " Ana casts detect magic on herself. "... oh. This is weird. Yes, there is a spell on my."
Good thing I'm still invisible - so they can't see me blushing. I thought I had grown out of that age where I accidentally cast spells on myself.
"... let me try this ... am I still invisible?"
"Could you maybe turn around? It might be easier when you are not watching..."
After trying for a few minutes, the princess finally becomes visible again, when the spell duration expires.
Downstairs:
Ana's listens intently to Bron's request.
They want to separate us? Could it be that this is just a pretense to separate me from the others? So that Thorvald won't be there to cause any trouble when they deal with me. But then again, maybe they really do want my support. Gotta watch my back, though.
"Okay. I'll do it." she replies after pondering for a moment.
Thorvald looked like he was going to protest, but stopped himself when Ana gave her consent.
"Very well, I shall go to this village. It will not fall if I can help it and if it does it will be a pyre for the forces of Irissen."
After leaving, Zethyris invites his friends to the mess for a drink, pulling his keg of Caydenbrew out of his magic bag for the occasion.
Zethyris gives a toast as everyone settles in. "We are all off on our own adventures for a little while. It may be some time before we meet again, so here's to the challenges we will overcome, the glory we will find, and the tales we will have to tell.
May your ale never sour and your courage never falter.
May your sword stay sharp and your heart stay true.
May you forever follow in the footsteps of freedom."
Less than an hour later you are back in the saddle and heading for Coryss tower, farther south along the border. Behind you ride thirty of Savol's veteran clansmen, the men and women Bron assigned to you to help retake the tower, all stern, vigilant and bloodied in countless skirmishes and battles already.
By dusk on your third day in the saddle you can finally the tower before you. Standing tall and dark atop jagged outcropping lying over one of the few unfrozen rivers a stark sentinel dominating the lands all around it.
Now the tower seems cold and dark, no lights filter out from its windows or open doorways.
Nearly blending with the stone and rocks can be seen subtle and small movements proving that the tower is not as uninhabited as it seems.
You leave your mounts a distance away and make your way around on foot until you reach the base of the rocky outcropping. Storing weapons in cloth packed sheaths and wrapping chain and plate the same way you and thirty grizzled ulfens begins climbing up the back of the tower in the dead of night.
Hans and Hilda are the first up and over the parapet slipping further into the shadows before returning with the limp body of a hobgoblin sentry each, similar wounds open both of their necks and as soon more are up they lower the bodies by rope to hide them amongst the rocks below.
Everything is moving smoothly until one of the older warriors wants to rush the stairs and force their way downwards, bloodlust and eagerness clear upon his face even in the darkness, and it's all Jediah can do to rein him and several others in but soon Jediah's calm and stolid demeanour win over and the men stand down.
Everyone moves carefully and as quietly as they can manage, with the more adept warriors ranging ahead leading and signalling for the rest. By the time you reach the main level you and the rest of Savol's warriors have ended roughly fifty hobgoblins and a final, bloody push in the central courtyard clears the remaining hobgoblins but costs the lives of seven men and puts one out the fight for a while.
After one bloody and tiring night the bear flies again over Coryss tower. Everyone settles in and rests preparing for the hard part, holding the tower against counter attacks.
Over the next month or so you see only scattered attempts to retake the tower and twice you're forced to send out soldiers to stop troops from attempting to make their way around.
On day seventy things begin to turn bad.
A large contingent of troops can be seen on the horizon marching straight for the tower, so many that a few of the men with you want to abandon the tower and flee back to the main army. "There's too many for us to hold! Staying here will just get us killed and they'll still take this tower. I say we leave now while we can and return with enough force to really hold this region." murmurs of agreement can be heard amongst many of the soldiers. "Bron commanded us to hold this tower, not to flee at the first sign of trouble. Where's your pride and the bravery of the ulfen people I keep being told about?"
"Staying here isn't bravery it's madness but maybe your kind doesn't know the difference." he begins to turn away as Jediah grabs his shoulder and turns him back around.
"You will stay and we will hold this tower even if we drown in the blood of our enemy or until they break."
"Then you stay, I'll not throw my life away at a needless battle."
He and almost half the remaining warriors take their horses and ride out leaving Jediah and only a dozen warriors to hold the tower.
When the army arrives they immediately begin hurling forces against the walls and the gate hammering and splintering at it heedless of their losses.
Day and night begin to mix and blend into a constant stream of hobgoblin bodies being hurled at the gate and trying to climb the walls. After a while the towers abundant stores of arrows are depleted and left with only the arrows that they fire at you. An endless cycle of fighting and catching a few minutes or an hour of sleep before they resume and your weary bodies must move to the walls again to repel the next attack.
Suddenly a thunderous crash shatters your fugue and the present floods your senses. You and five soldiers remain atop the tower walls and below you the gates bar has finally been broken.
Reacting more on instinct than anything else Jediah all but leapt down the stairs, twisting his knee, and hurling himself at the gates before they can open. Every muscle in his body strains as he tries to hold the doors shut. Muscles tear and joins scream out in agony as the the mighty doors slowly creak and groan inwards, pushed by a slew of hobgoblins. Thankfully he manages to hold out long enough for Hilda and Hans to drag braces into place before his body finally gives and drops him to his knees.
The makeshift barricade lasted for three more days before the enemy finally managed to break through again. This time at the forefront of the army strides a hobgoblin half again as large who moves straight for Jediah, ignoring the other survivors and leaving them for the rest of the army.
The two leaders clash in the middle of the courtyard, stone pole arm versus a black iron maul. Slash is met with parry and thrusts are bashed away viciously. So intent on his opponent Jediah misses the hobgoblin that moves up behind him and buries a sword in his side causing his defence to falter and the champions swing to shatter his guard. Jediah staggers slightly before being shoved aside as the champion moves on the hobgoblin, roaring in fury the iron hammer crashes down on his own soldier. Caving its head and shoulders into its torso before the hobgoblin champion turns back to Jediah whose side is red with blood. A desperate thrust from Jediah, in a bid to buy time to recover, is sidestepped and a mighty swing connects with Jediah's other side. The head crunches into his armour and crushes his ribs as he is sent flying only to crash against the stable nearby. The wooden building collapses upon Jediah and the hobgoblins roar and laugh, sure of their victory.
...up...
G..et up!..
..Get up mortal!...
"Huh? Who is there?"
Mortal, you must get up. For one of my bearers to fall such as this is humiliating. I can sense your body lies broken but does your spirit as well?[/i]
"No! I am not broken. But who are you?"
I am the the embodiment of the mountains and the rocks upon which the world resides. I am a being that you mortal might call an... Elemental. Still clutched within your dying hand is a weapon forged in ancient times willingly out of mine own flesh and imbued with a fragment of my essence.
"Earth's Vigil? What do you want from me?"
I want you to get up. I want you to stand and show these foolish things both the strength and the fury of the earth.
"How? My body is broken, I am dying."
I will make you whole again, stronger than before...
"And what is your price?"
...Price?... There is nothing you have that I want, All I require is that you do not falter. Become a pillar of resolve and foremost... Do not lose!
The last four remaining ulfen warriors stand surrounded, bleeding from scores of wounds. Their resolve and their stamina exhausted they ready themselves for their final moments, ready to die in battle when a strange sound erupts from the other side of the courtyard. The sound of stone and rubble moving and wood cracking and groaning shakes the area as the collapses stable erupts out wards, a dark fist piercing the wood and tearing it away. A figure climbs out of the debris and stands defiantly, a stone glaive held up point straight at the hobgoblins heart encased in a green hand with dark green stone shards jutting out from it. Raising his head Jediah looks out at the now quivering mass of hobgoblins. Before them stands not quite a half Orc but something more akin to an elemental. Jediah's exposed skin has taken on an almost rock like appearance and in several places sharp outcroppings or protuberances have formed like his forearms and hands and his cheeks. All signs of his previous wounds have vanished as he calmly walks towards his foe. All the other hobgoblins backing away visibly nervous.
The hobgoblin champion, up fazed by Jediah's new appearance moves up and they begin their battle again. Glaive slashes and sparks against armour while hammer crashes into stone. Neither side letting up as they step and swing in a furious storm of strikes and counters. Jediah's glaive comes slicing downwards and the champion crosses the haft of his weapon across him to block but the iron haft cracks then splinters as the stone blade shears it in half before continuing its decent through the champion and touching the ground. Awestruck the hobgoblin champion tries to step back and look at his broken weapon but stumbles and collapses. The rest of the hobgoblins look for their champion to Jediah several times before panic ensues and they flee, leaving Jediah and four dumbfounded ulfen warriors alone with mounds of corpses and an empty tower.
There have been no further signs of Irrissen forces nearby since that day and eventually reinforcements arrive to relieve Jediah and his remaining men allowing them to return to camp after a gruelling six months of constant warfare.
The morning after the party, and after her own unsuccessful approach to train her horse, Anastasiya approaches Rutilux:
"Hello Rutilux. Do you have a moment? You are good with horses, aren't you? Before we leave, do you think you have time to give my horse some training? She is quite easy to scare, and that might become a problem when we are in the middle of combat trying to snipe enemy casters."
"Training can take some time, Ana, weeks can be normal, but let me have a look at your horse. She seems of decent temperament..." He looks her over
Having received his orders, Skallangbiorn awaits until all have reconvened in the room before making his departure. "Truly Gorum has shone his countenance upon this group to have brought about so much glory and honor. Though we may part for the now, know that you all will be at the very center of my prayers." He bows solemnly, feeling a twinge of regret that he would not be fighting along side them in the near future. But he knew that the Lord in Iron saw to it that his weapons were honed and wielded by his will and his will alone. Not by the mortal whims or sentiments of his servants.
On his way out of the room, he nods acknowledgment to Zethyris' invitation. "If time allows, I'll be happy to hoist a flagon or two in celebration of our impending missions."
Then to Thorvald, he inclines his head in respect to his fellow Ulfen. "Heder och Ära en röd vägen på din fot, broder."
Skallangbiorn makes his way out into the stairway and down into the courtyard of the makeshift encampment. Ahead of him, he finds the location to which Rose and Rolf had been taken and enters the small hut. "I want you two ready to hand this evening. After consulting with another of my order here in the camp I believe Great Gorum has given me insight into the curses binding your souls. There is a risk, but I should think you'd be happier being rid of this affliction, no?"
He doesn't wait for an answer, but instead returns to the night and the areas dedicated to the wounded of the war. He pays his respects to the officer of the watch and then sets to work applying his healing skills and whatever magics granted him by his sovereign god. A group of soldiers, gathered closely to stave off the winter chill he visits first, praying to his god for their restoration to the battles ahead.
"My Lord in Iron, grant your servant the abrasive needed to restore he hone to these men, and set them back upon the course of glory in seeing foul Irrisen defeated." Skallangbiorn intones. He waves the men closer so as the eyes of his god could see them clearly through the cleric as a scout uses a farseeing lens.
Then onward to the next grouping of men, likewise gathering them as close as possible. As he works, he begins the war chants taught him by the head of his order in Trollheim.
"The night cast low by steel's flash and bite;
sitting on the rock tip the fighter,
the mighty sword carving rock.
A new time will come. His times pass away,
But his strength is unbroken, though his head is gray.
He would wait no longer, for the battle calls to his soul!
We call the lightning,
we summon the thunder,
Blood's rain upon the ground fighting,
All before our blades plowed under!
From steep mountain, he looks defiant
the steep precipice down the rapids;
of longing turns his blood.
In the wave of dust seem to be ghosts,
from the depths voices exhorting attendees:
hail to the man who may be of Gorum!
We call the lightning,
we summon the thunder,
Blood's rain upon the ground fighting,
All before our blades plowed under!
From the battle hall's steps distant shouts,
and the fighter shudders; - from the depths of his soul,
a song which pleased him more, his fists cast to the sky.
It talked about fighting, feat and hope.
And thunder been suggested, and the song bellowed forth,
and stood up warrior and blasts his horn!
We call the lightning,
we summon the thunder,
Blood's rain upon the ground fighting,
All before our blades plowed under!"
As he sings, the cleric claps his hands in time and stomps upon the ground, encouraging those who are able to stomp the earth as well until the campgrounds are alive with the music of the Ulfen ancients. And as the music suffuses his bones he unleashes Gorum's power to restore, working his way along the lines of beds of wounded.
Then Skallangbiorn works his way through the lines of wounded, seeking those worse off than the others and continuing his ministrations.
-----------
Towards the end of the evening, as exhaustion threatens to claim him, Skallangbiorn seeks the council of the senior cleric in the encampment. With this person, he will begin discussing the possibility of removing the curses under which Rose and Rolf are currently held. The discussion will gear more towards the general and then to the specific as he describes the types of curses.
He's nuts, but he's got passion. Makes him either great or dangerous ...or both.
The next morning after the groups 'farewell for now' feast and a rather unsuccessful attempt to convince your horse to stop trying to run away you're called up by Bron. Several of the others have already left the camp and despite. Rutilux's promise to help with your training his duties have prevented him from doing it so far.
On the roof of the tower Bron waits, looking out over the edge towards the east, scanning the horizon. Three Ulfen, two men and a woman, stand nearby fidgeting and sharpening arrows. When the door closes Bron turns to you, "Lass, things aren't going nicely here. Despite our best efforts we're losing most major engagements. As you know the ulfen people are distrustful of the arcane which leaves us at a disadvantage since Irrissen has no shortage of spell slingers and they're not afraid to use them in battle. Now that's where you and these people come in. They're a family of hunters that have come forth and volunteered their skills. Oleg, Anya and Robar Forester will ride with you through the lines. I want you to concentrate on finding their spellcasters and pointing them out."
"And then we just pick em off easy a pie."
"I'm glad you're so optimistic but don't let your guard down."
The 'Foresters' accompany you as you ride back and forth along the line. Several times battle breaks out nearby and you struggle to keep hold of your horse while trying scan the enemy lines. Several times throughout the first week you spot signs of spells being cast but aren't able to catch sight of the caster.
Some time in your second week of searching, which a battle rages only a few hundred feet in front of you, you spot a figure behind enemy lines concentrating hard and then beginning to wave their arms in measured motions. The somatic components of a spell! You tell a warning to the trio and point of the figure frantically before he can blend into the throng of bodies or finish his spell. Almost as soon as you point at the man you hear the thrum of bow strings and just as the wizard was about to complete his spell three arrows bloom from his chest. His lifeless body disappears amidst the throng of the enemy.
From then on, over the course of a month, you manage to identify several more wizards for your companions to strike. They don't always manage to slay them but the always connect.
After several days without any sightings you just manage to catch a woman amongst the enemy as she finishes as spell but before your can point her out the whole front line erupts in panic as a huge, skeletal monster erupts from thin air. The creature immediately wades into the Ulfen lines, scattering soldiers with mighty swings of its monstrous claws and impaling others with its barbed tail while ulfen steel rebounds and sparks off it its hideous hide.
"What in the nine hells is that?"
"No idea," he turns to you, "Well?"
"I, I don't know."
"It doesn't matter what it is, just tell us how to kill it."
"I don't know!" as she tries frantically to control her panicking horse and hurls a cluster of force at it. Her spell rebounds against some unseen barrier across the creatures skin harmlessly.
"Run! We're outmatched."
Forced to flee, most of the line breaks and scatters trying to get away. The creature vanishes a few minutes later but the damage is done. The enemy has pushed forward and forced themselves deep into Savol's line.
Afterwards, Bron doesn't want to risk you near the front anymore and you're forced to remain at the fort. It's right around that time that a peculiar image began manifesting in all of your dreams. Every night, no matter what your dream contains, wether good or nightmare you keep seeing the same set of eyes. Always floating, mostly transparent and surrounded my age lines. Then you start hearing the faint echo of a voice, nothing clear. Then to make matters worse, you dreams always end with an image of a forest, the same forest every time.
Despite your attempts to hide it, Julainda has noticed something is wrong and when you finally confide some of it she looks at you seriously and tells you that you need to leave. As panic rises she grabs your arm kindly and continues, "Ana, sometimes our dreams are a way for our souls or our ancestors to tell us something important. I can't tell you what you saw or even if it was real but I can tell you that if you try to ignore it, it will only get worse. Go, investigate and if it turns out to be nothing then at the least you'll have put your mind at ease. If there is something at the end of this journey then I think its something that you need to see. Don't worry I'll take care of things while your gone." she gives you a hug before watching you leave.
You ride out of the fort that night, though a gate that Julainda made sure would let you pass, and out into the dark. Alone because you know that if Bron or the others heard about this they'd either convince you to stay or they'd all try and ride out with you. Although you miss Thorvald and wish he was beside you, you know in your heart that this is something you must do alone.
Despite getting yourself hopeless lost and turned around constantly, you feel certain that you are getting close. Each and every night the dreams are becoming more vivid and leave you with a sense of where to go until you finally reach the edge of the forest of your dreams.
Despite the deep cold and ever present danger that comes with the winters in the north the forest feels calm and serene. You instinctively know that nothing will harm you here as you ride deeper.
Eventually, despite a complete lack of trails or roads, you find yourself In a clearing with a cute little cottage that looks more grown than built. Standing in front of the cottage is a woman no more than a few years older than you who looks rather familiar. You recognize her eyes from your dreams but despite seeing her for the first time you can't shake the feeling of seeing her somewhere before.
"Welcome Anastasiya, I've been waiting a long time for you."
"Who are you and how do you know my name?"
"Theres time for that later dear, for now come in a rest. You've had a long ride." Ana clenches her fists as colour rises to her cheeks.
"You will tell me who you are and how you know my name now. Or else!"
"Or else? Wo do you think you are girl? Get inside right now and clean yourself up!"
Instinctively Ana backs down and rushes inside to heed the woman.
While you freshen up the woman comes in and helps brush your hair,
"you know, you remind me of your grandmother, she wasn't very good at making first impressions either. Maybe it was from living in the palace or maybe she really did expect everything to go her way..." she pauses when she feels you start to tense, "Now, now, it's all right dear. We outcasts need to stick together. I doubt they ever told you about your great-aunt Anabella..."
She then proceeds to tell you the story of how she grew up within the forests of Irrissen and her connection to nature and life made her a pariah and how her own family forced her into seclusion and eventually forgot about her.
Over the next few weeks Anabella explained how the family connection works, describing it again and again like a hag's coven. "Blood speaks to blood but I can show you how to stop it." constantly explaining in different ways or comparing the Jagwidja to a bee hive. Then after lunch she starts putting it into practice. Sitting across from one another with a bucket of hot coals she pushes and prods at your mind, varying from subtle influences to mystic assaults and every time you fail she forces your body to grab a hot coal and take it out of the bucket.
Slowly as the days turn into weeks fewer and fewer coals leave the bucket. In the beginning you ended each day sore and exhausted, now Anabella is the one that needs help rising at the end of the exercise.
Finally when a while day passes where not a single coal leaves the bucket Anabella hugs you and with a weary grin explains that now that you need to deal with the the other "curse" of the blood while you both walk about the clearing. "Inside you wars several different sources of power. The blood of Baba Yaga, the blood of the northern tribes that she subjugated and the blood of the winter witches that she corrupted. The only way to control that power is to embrace one aspect and allow it to consume and feed on the rest. I can feel the energy welling up inside you ready to burst. I cannot help you with this, all I can do is act as the catalyst. "
With that she stamps her walking stick down upon the frozen waters you hadn't realized you were walking on causing the area below you to crack and open up dropping you into the icy water beneath. Before you can react and try to rear the opening, the ice closes leaving you trapped.
The cold waters leech out your strength and energy as you find yourself slowly floating down to the bottom, panic gives way to regret as you think about never seeing Thorvald or your friends again as the world goes black...
I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have listened to Julianda. I shouldn't have trusted Anabella. What cruel game is she playing? Teach me all these things, only to drown me here in these icy waters. How could I be so stupid to trust her?
Anastasiay is about to exhale her last breath and accept her icy fate, when something inside her twitches and gives her new motivation.
But I won't give up! Not without a fight! I promised Thorvald. Anabella's vile primitive gods won't get me as a sacrifice that easily!
She struggles to get back up, to just below the ice. There, she produces a small bead of fire - and lets it explode into a ball of fire, 25 feet downstream of herself, just below the surface of the ice.
She clambers out of the water and onto the bank of the river. Dripping wet from the icy water, but burning hot with rage. She gets up and starts looking for Anabella.
Once found, she calls after her:
She creates another bead of fire and fires it at Anabella.
If she still sees any life sign from Anabella after that, she continues to throw fireballs at the other woman.
When she is too exhausted to produce another fireball, she switches to firing force bolts.
Anastasiya embraces her otherworldly hag heritage (Baba Yaga). And her alignment changes from CG to CN, as the last piece of trust in the goodness in humans dies in her, when she is seemingly betrayed by her new friend and mentor Anabella.
Thorvald poured his passions and frustrations into the glowing piece of metal he held in his tongs as he hammered, folded and quenched it on the Altar of Torag. Soon he would begin his own journey without the rest of the Claws, . . . alone.
Before he went though, he took the opportunity to train, worship and aid the camp. Troops were always in need of new and repaired metal work. He made arrow heads, pike heads, and even a few skewer forks for the camp cook. He beat out dents in helmets and beat in loose grommets in armor. He was glad to have the work and exercise to distract his mind from what was happening with his friends who had already struck out on their own. Especially his Ana, his little she wolf.
The glowing piece of metal hissed and spat flame as its glowing red head was quenched in the oil. In a few moments the once malleable metal was tempered, blackened and made harder on the surface than it was underneath. It's final treatment was to be thrown out into the snow for a winters ice temper.
I am not too unlike the metal myself. He ponders.
He picked up the spear head and struck the symbol of Gorum on one side and Desna on the other.
Before throwing the finished head in the basket he looks at his work and comments.
"They can't kill the metal, the metal will live on."
The fireball comes easily and as soon as it makes contact the ice shatters and the water disappears. Anastasiya climbs to her feet and stares accusingly at Anabella who stares back, a mixture of confusion and sadness on her face, amidst the cinders of Ana's last spell.
As Anastasiya vents her anger and frustration Anabella stands there tears forming in her eyes until she raises her hand and a deep sleep overcomes Anastasiya.
Anastasiya wakes some time later but not in Anabella's grove but on the outskirts of an unfamiliar forest wrapped in a heavy knitted blanket. Looking about frantically for Anabella or signs of danger she finds neither. Nearby, her belongings have been neatly stowed beneath the bows of the tree she woke up under.
Sitting atop her bag lies a note:
Dearest Anastasiya,
You will never know how sorry I am to have hurt you. It was never my intent. I can only hope that someday, you may come to understand what I tried but failed to do. I pray that you are strong enough to control the powers that you have embraced and that you will eventually be able to live a peaceful, happy life.
Anabella
Fear not, you will never have to see me again for as long as that is your desire
After riding for several days you eventually come upon a town and from there are guided back to the fortress where you are greeted by a very worried looking Julianda. She ushers you inside and to a cozy fire.
"Are you all right? The spirits told me something happened to you."
After reading it, Ana crumples the letter in her hands and dissolves it in acid.
Frustrated, without anything to vent her anger on, she starts to pack her things on her horse - when she suddenly hears something moving in the bushes nearby.
Out of the bushes comes a hairy creature, the size of a dog.
"Whoa, don't shoot me! It's me: Rat. Remember?"
"Your friend Anabella said you would need somebody bigger to look after you. Whats in it for me is, I've got some matters to discuss with the cats of this world, and I'm sure they will appreciate my arguments more with my new size."
Anastasiya recognizes her familiar just in time to dismiss the magic missiles she had started to produce.
"I'm glad you got something out of this."
She leaves the forest behind without looking back.
The next days she is riding alone.
The cold wind helps to cool off her anger.
Only two days later she finds the presents Anabella had hidden in her pack. At the height of her anger, she would have thrown them away. But now she decides to keep them.
She enjoys being alone for a while - to have time to think.
But at the same time she longs to get back into civilization, even if it is just the relative civilization that an Ulfen fortress at war has to offer.
Finally back at the fortress, Anastasiya is happy to see Julianda again. But when Julianda mentiones her spirits, recent wounds break up again, as it reminds her too much of the spirits Anabella taught her again. Unusually cold and bitter she replies:
"Your spirits and I did not part on the best possible terms."
After a deep breath to regain her composure, she adds with a genuine smile:
"But I am all right now. Thank you for your concern, Julianda ... and for your advice. In the end, it was the right thing for me to do, to go there. I've got things sorted out. My dreams will not bother me anymore."
On a more happy note, she asks:
"What have I missed here? How is the war going? Any news from Thorvald or the others? Have any of them returned yet?"
When Anastasiya comes through the town, she tries to sell her old bracers of armor (+500gp), and to buy a headband of alluring charisma (-2000gp).
Also, she continues to try to train her horse:
(But for some unknown reason, the horse still doesn't respond well to threats of selling it to the butcher if it doesn't start to behave)
The needs of the many out way your desires for sleep as you quietly climb out of bed before first light and make ready to leave. Climbing up onto your horse you ride out for Greyson's Landing and the garrison waiting for you. You easily manage the fastest and safest route and find yourself riding towards the town's outskirts before nightfall.
From the outside, the town looks much like any other in ulfen territory with a sturdy wall made of stone as tall as a man's chest and the most fire resistant houses near the walls. Several figures huddle away from the wind behind the wall taking turns to peer out into the dusk. It doesn't take long for them to notice you riding up and immediately you see the guards moving to intercept you, several readying arrows while one raises a horn.
As you ride into the light of a brandished lantern, the sudden brightness fouling your vision, a cry of warning goes out. Slowing down and riding closer with empty arms outstretched you calmly identify yourself and the guards lower their weapons. They greet you and signal for the nearest gate to be opened for you.
Inside the town you can see most of the homes are stuttered tightly with only small traces of light seeping through gaps in the shutters. One guard guides you to the mayors house and raps noisily on the door before giving the guard inside a warning of whose on the other side and leaving to return to his post.
The door is opened by a wary looking but older ulfen man with three feet of northern steel clasped naked in his hand but sheaths it once he sees who you are. You're waved into the houses open hearth room while you hear movement from a room farther in. Shortly later a heavyset, almost portly, ulfen emerges wrapped in a fur nightgown and greets you warmly. After a quick bite the mayor leads you to a room you can use for your stay and bids you good night before returning to his own chambers.
You are awoken early in the morning, just after dawn, by a tremendous clamour beyond your door. A large group of servants are moving about cleaning, cooking and tending to chores while the major sits at his table enjoying a bowl of porridge. As soon as you're spotted a seat is readied for you and over breakfast you discuss with the mayor your task.
Greyson's Landing is a central hub for travel and commerce in the region so the town makes sure they always have a solid staff of guards to deter and defend against bandit attacks. The town is too large for the majority of bandit groups or monsters to attack directly but they have no real defence against an army.
Spending the first day reviewing the state of affairs and touring the town you set about planning out the best way to defend it against a marching force. By the end of night, long past midnight you stand satisfied staring at a map of the town scribbled on and marked according to your plan.
The next six weeks are spent working tirelessly alongside your men reinforcing the wall, barricading key streets and turning the town into a maze of streets and dead ends as well as working with the guards in training the inhabitants how to use a few weapons and defend themselves should the need arise.
All of your planning and preparations are tested less than a week later as a small raiding force pushes past the outer wall. The town is in chaos as guards scramble into position and volunteers run around having forgotten where to go and what to do. Time and again the raiders are forced to split up or double back as they're constantly harried by archers and forced from ambush to ambush as the guards slowly whittle away at their numbers. The last few raiders, cornered in a dead end alley way, end their own lives before they can be captured "Death before failure!" hissed from dying lips.
Several more weeks pass with frequent sightings of enemies and groups of refugees seeking protection within the walls. Soon you spend more time fighting laziness and in attentiveness than than bandits or raiding parties in the vicinity.
That all ends somewhere within your third month, on a night with a full and heavy moon that hangs eerily low in the sky.
Well after midnight while you lay sleeping a thunderous crash shatters your dreams quickly followed by frantic screaming. Grabbing your shield and drawing wintersbane from its sheath resting on a bed post you rush out into the night. Everywhere around you can be heard the sounds of frantic battle and the snarls of monstrous beasts. As you try to decide on the best place to help a pair of gigantic white wolves with rime and frost mingled with blood coating their muzzles lumber out of a side street and sniffing the air turn towards you. Their heads lower and their hackles rise as almost human growls escape from their throats. They rush you in unison and while you raise your shield to deflect one set of fangs aimed at your face the other bites and tears ribbons from your thigh before hopping away ahead of winterbane's steel. The two wolves circle just out of reach, stepping in mirrored unison before abruptly shifting direction. The one to your left rushes in low aiming for you legs below your shield and as your arm stretches out to slash it before it can reach you find your aim grabbed and your shoulder aches as it's nearly popped out of the socket as the second wolf tries to tear your arm clean off but you spin backwards and bring the lip of your shield across the side of its face is a wide and heavy back hand. Backing away again the one shakes its head but this time it's a few seconds slower than the other one and just as your shield smashes into the first wolf's muzzle, wintersbane slashes downwards, cutting off the the wolf's ear and bloodying its hackles. You move to finish off the wounded winter wolf but the first one slams its body mightily into your shield with all its weight, throwing off your aim and sending you stumbling. As you right yourself and turn, prepared for the obvious attack that should follow you are shocked as the wounded wolf is trotting away towards the edge of the town and the unharmed wolf stands between you menacingly as it backs away slowly.
You have no time to pursue them and finish the battle because a terrifying crash and a burst of ash and erupts down the street and you run towards it.
One of the larger buildings, the school you think, lies a burning ruin, the walls are beginning collapse under the weight of the roof and down the street you can see a man cackling like a mad man and juggling lit torches. He spots you at nearly the same time and drops a few torches as he bursts into a run down the opposite way. Your long legs strengthened by years of fighting easily allow you to outpace the scrawny man but just as your about thirty feet away he pauses and blows on a torch in your direction. A cascade of flames erupt outwards much like you would guess a dragon's breath would look rushing up the street towards you and singing your bare skin as you bring up your shield to guard your face. The flames only lick you for a moment before shifting and turning aside blanketing the buildings to your right in flames and setting the waddle and daub as well as the thatch alight. The man begins running again but you stop. Screaming and crying is coming from one of the buildings so you break down the door to find a woman holding an infant and trying to coax a young toddler out from under a table as the burning thatch and bits of the rafters rain down. Before your eyes the image changes as a large section gives way and drops on the woman. Rushing to her aid, heedless of the flames burning your palms and skin you strain your muscles and lift. Wedging you shoulder underneath one of the main cross joists of the roof you push up with your legs, the wolf bite screaming in agony, and lift the debris up. You can feel your skin sizzling and popping as the woman still protectively clutching the infant clambers out. The young boy terrified needs a bit more coaxing as you free one of your arms, grab the boy by his collar and yank him desperately out before your wounded leg gives and you collapse, tumbling away from the debris. You collect the boy in your arms and stumble to your feet barely making it out of the house before the rest of the roof joins the floor.
Several soldiers rush to your aid and hurl a soaked blanket over you. The cold a welcome change to the heat from moments before.
The soldiers send for the towns priest and healer as you sit exhausted and in more pain than you've ever felt. Looking up at the town you see many of the fires are already being put out the soldiers are chasing after several wolves fleeing the town. That when you see him, on a slight rise to the east in clear view stands a large man watching the events unfold. Several winter wolves stand or sit nearby him while he leans almost casually on a long halted weapon before he turns and walks away into the night.
The priest and everyone else trained in healing have their hands full tending to the wounded and you lie bed ridden for several days wrapped in healing poultices and herbs. Most of your body is numb and the medicine clouds your head as you slip in and out of consciousness.
You aren't sure how long you've been asleep but when you wake a familiar scent, a perfume, and a familiar voice fill your head. As your head slowly clears the face of Dagmar comes into view as she finished peeling off some old poultices. "Dear me, you get left alone for a few months and the next time I see you you look more like one of those desert mummies I've heard about than a north man. No stop, you need to rest. I've tended to your wounds. I came rushing here from my hospice when I heard how badly you had been hurt but you'll be fine now. You just need to give the medicine a bit of time to wear off. Go back to sleep." as she places a moist cloth over your eyes and forehead and your consciousness fades again.
The next time you wake up you feel much better, your body isn't covered in bandages and you don't smell of herbs and weeds anymore. Looking around you can't find Dagmar but another woman sits nearby knitting.
Seeing you stir and the question obviously on your parched lips the woman stands and grabs a cup, handing it to you, "The mistress had to leave sir, Lady Dagmar was called away to tend to more wounded but she bid me stay and help here. I'm Holly, Dagmar's assistant. Your wounds have put you out of the fight for two weeks milord. You may feel a little week but your body is fine and you can return to your duties. I will remain to help with the wounded as well." with that she bows and leaves you alone to dress.
Returning to duty is hard for the first few days as your body is stiff and weak from lying in bed for so long but soon your muscles remember how to move.
While you slept several raids had occurred at night but the wolves retreated shortly after waking everyone. The wolves seemed to be probing the defences in a far more organized manner than you've ever heard of winter wolves doing.
A few nights later the wolves attack again but you were ready for them. You slept during the evening and had all the soldier ready in full armour each and every night.
This night, when the wolves attacked and flooded into the town in greater number than before they avoided you. Several times your movements put you face to face with wolves but they always retreated before you could engage them. With your frustration rising you finally understand why when the large ulfen looking man with dominantly wolves features marches down the main street towards you and the winter wolves seem to guide him. You know in your gut that the raids these past two weeks were merely a ruse to search for you. This man that commands winter wolves has been waiting for you to recover and let the town survive so that he could meet you in battle fully rested.
"Ah there you are. I've been waiting soo long for someone like you. It's been such a long time since I've found someone worthy of fighting. Worthy of killing with my own hands." his lips curl back in a snarl as his smile begins to extend towards the back of his jaw. "I haven't had someone kindle my bloodlust like this in years." he lifts his head and groans as if in pleasure and his ears begin to get pointy and his teeth in his long wide mouth turn into fangs. His long greyish brown hair grows longer and turns white, "Come north man, come embrace death and fight me one on one!". By now he is less than ten feet away from you as his body continues to shift and contort into that of the largest werewolf you've ever seen with pure white, long fur and frost clinging to his lips. In his hand is a mighty two handed hammer. Seeing before you the cause of this towns trouble and a monster leaves you unable to hold yourself in check as your primal fury, your own blood lust boils to the surface and you rush him. Bashing his hammer away with your shield and slashing with all your might, wintersbane buries itself deep in the mans shoulder before he brings his hammer back and with inhuman force smashes you through your shield. Your whole body leaves the ground and you find find yourself partially buried inside a nearby building. You clamber out and move towards him again. Your rage and bloodlust warring with you instincts to be cautious as you step in, ducking under a wide swing and securing two more slashes on his body. Again and again you trade blows with the werewolf. Cut after cut closes and seals on him while you stoically ignore your own. Frustration continues to fuel your anger, keeping your body moving despite begin long out of breath and you can see that your many wounds are finally having an affect on your enemy. You stab him and your aim is true as wintersbane buries itself sixteen inches deep into his chest right where his heart should be but when you look up into the wolves face you see sadness. Confused you hesitate and his foot connects with your chest sending you flying back and forcing you to drop your shield. "No, you can hurt me but you are capable of killing me. I grow bored." he raises his hammer high over his head and brings it down as you lift wintersbane two handed to block but his hammer smashes through wintersbane's blade and crushes your shoulder. You can barely lift your arm but within your hand lies only a hilt, only eight or nine inches remain.
As the werewolf walks away the winter wolves follow, "Keep your town, I will find better sport elsewhere."
The next few days are a blur as reinforcements arrive and the townsfolk praise you for saving them. Released from your deputies here you return to the fortress. When you arrive no one else has returned from their own duties but you do hear rumours of daring raids by Isham and praise for Rutilux saving a flank during a heated battle.
Not sure what to do next you turn to Julianda who currently commands in Bron's absence who after listening to your report bids you seek out Toopil who was on his way back to Tweyd.
Several days ride later you find Toopil back at his forge and show him your ruined blade, "I see lad. The steel tells me what happened. This blade was made with borrowed strength, your uncle was a great warrior but his strength alone is not enough for what you face now. Come, I will show you how to remake your blade into a true Wintersbane. I will teach you the secrets of Kodiak steel."
Over the next month Toopil guides you in picking out the proper ores and show your his secret ways of smelting the metal, part reverent prayer, part alchemy and the right temperature. Much hotter than you would normal work and much longer. When the time comes, you take the remainder of the blade and melt it down with ores Gathered from dwarven mines in the north and sprinkle in black obsidian and metal dust. Heating and folding the mixture upon itself again and again before burning the raw blade into the white hot coals. You hammer the blade endlessly in a constant pattern of coals, powder, anvil, coals, powder, anvil. Night and day for a full week before Toopil finally admits its ready for quenching. You reach forward to plunge the blade into the bucket but he grabs you arm forcefully, "No, Kodiak steel can only be quenched with blood. You've toiled to shape the blade now give Gorum his due. Spill your blood upon the blade then plunge it deep into the ice." surprised by the look on Toopil's face and his request to start to falter but steel yourself and open your vein over the blade, watching as your blood sizzles and cools the metal it touches before taking it out onto the frozen pond nearby and with two hands plunging the blade through the ice to the hilt as steam rises and bathes you in a mix of heat and chill.
Pulling your hands out of the now melted water you lift the reformed Wintersbane to you eyes and wonder at its beauty. Even though the blade is cool to the touch it looks as if heat radiates from within it. With this you are ready to face your enemies again.
Thorvald marvels at the creation that they have forged anew. The fire of the blade reflected the fires ignited in the barbarians own. In his ears the ringing of hammers continued to resound along with detached whisperings that lingered at the very edge of his hearing.
"Master, I cannot thank you enough for what you have gifted me with. You did much more than teach me greater secrets of metal and help make this shattered blade whole. You helped reform something shattered within me. I feel like I am reborn and as freshly formed as what I now hold in my hands. I can sense the other things the metal in this weapon have been. Tools . . . weapons . . . Objects of sundry and art. . . I can feel the other hands that forged, held and used them . . . The hammering and the pureness of the pieces of the Earth and other things you helped me add to it are like words on a page to me now."
"This sword will bring glory to Gorum, has seen change like Desna, is a testament to Torag, is a thing of terrible beauty, and now contains a part of me that will someday be sheparded by the Lady in Grey. Forgive me if I profess things to you that you have already come to know."
"As it cools I can feel the beating of my hearts blood within it."
Thorvald looks his Master in the eyes with incredible intensity, but no sign of madness or hesitation.
"You said that this blade was made with the barrowed strength of my Uncle. You were right, but it also holds that of my cousin and the tusks of the Feyslayer that stalked the woods of the Emerald Court. This sword will continue to hold the spirits of my kin and be the bane of their and my enemies. Wintersbane has been tempered by my own blood, but I know you must know the deeper secrets of blood magic. . . I ask you, knowing full well the consequences . . . Show me how to give part of myself to the blade. The ancestors are watching, their spirits call to me to make this sacrifice and to join them in the secret of metal that I and they may live on. May this blade serve my people long after I am gone; like the ancient breastplate I wear that has served untold others since its forging."
"Help me make this blade a legacy!"
dot
The winters cold slowly eases its grip over the north as yet another winter comes to an end. Through several bitter months of battle across a protracted front and frigid snow storms strong enough to tear down buildings the spring can finally be seen. As the first thaw breathes new life into the north and nature begins to shrug off its hibernation the warriors fighting under the banner of the Kodiak can finally stand back and rest as they watch the armies of Irrissen fade back beyond their borders as the seasons make their change.
With the threat of continued violence abating Savol has secluded himself to examine several ancient records regarding his lineage uncovered in ruins across the border.
In the meantime, Julianda has summoned you all back from the various locales that your duties had sent you.
Having returned from his campaign on the North Plains, Rutilux cannot help but muse over all that has occurred to him during it. Still, it will be good to see the others again. I wonder how Julian will feel having gone so long without having to save us? he thinks wryly. Indeed, I wonder how each of them really is doing?
His use of Herald had been somewhat limited compared to what it could be. He had nearly lost the bird to enemy archers and casters more than once, though the bird continued to bravely prove its worth again and again. Nor was it alone. Rutilux was very proud of how the very sight of Sunfire had grown to inspire fear in the foes' common soldiers. Of course, Sunfire was a violent kind of horse, and seemed to enjoy the work despite the wounds that were often inflicted on it.
And then was his own performance... ah, but why dwell on oneself when a meeting was coming up?
He wonders if he's the first to arrive to Julianda's summons and looks about.
Jediah arrives as well, silent as the mountains as he keeps his thoughts to himself.
Julian must be devestated that he can't smug the enemy to death any more.
Anastasiya appears different than a few months ago. More self-reliant, more at peace, somewhat colder.
When others arrive at the meeting, she greets them with a friendly smile (even Jediah).
There are various rumors about her in the castle: Some say she has been grounded in the castle for several weeks, had escaped but then been recaptured, and is being more closely guarded ever since. Others say she is part of a team of elite assassins now, going on covert missions behind enemy lines to let fire rain on their command posts.
Rutliux nods to Jediah, "Good to see you again, my friend. I hope your exploits went well?"
When Anastaysia appears, he can't help but notice just how different she seems. More poised, but perhaps with a harder edge. Still, he returns the smile, "And good to see you as well too, Ana. How do you fare?"
Difficult and full of war, but I endure.
Rutilux nods, wondering if Jediah lost many men. It stings when it happens, and he considers the dangers he had to lead men through himself.
"I'm here."
"And I'd not have known if you hadn't said so," Rutilux smiles, "You're as stealthy as ever, Julian. It's good to see you." And he means it. it's good to see them all. I had not realized how tied I felt to them, even if they sometimes make me crazy.
Zethyris walks into the room, a grin on his face. "Friends! Good to see you again!" he calls out. "It has been too long. Do any of you know what Julianda wants us for?"
Zethyris seems antsy, shifting his weight slowly from foot to foot. Investigating with Montulo was fine, but not quite the same as the adventures we went on for Savol. He fiddles with a silver tankard-shaped pendant around his neck, a new affectation he picked up over the past months.
"And how have you all been?" he blurts out suddenly, as if only now remembering his manners. "I've heard some reports, but they leave out the interesting bits. Anything exciting happen while campaigning..." Zethyris nods to Jediah and Rutilux, "... or while on your special missions?" he finishes, turning to Julian and Ana.
"Well, there were quite a few tight spots on the Northern plain. At one time, I was forced to employ some unusual tactics risking myself as a stalking horse under the guise of a 'wounded warrior' to learn a tight knit enemy unit out of a fog for my men. It actually worked very well, though I dare say Sunfire was a better actor than I was," Rutilux explains with good nature. There were other times that didn't go so well, but he'd prefer to dwell on the positive at first, "That's a fine looking holy symbol by the way."
When Anastaysia appears, he can't help but notice just how different she seems. More poised, but perhaps with a harder edge. Still, he returns the smile, "And good to see you as well too, Ana. How do you fare?"
Ana walks over to him and says
"Good to see you alive too, Rutilux. I'm fine now ..."She stops mid-sentence, momentarily distracted by Zethyris' arrival and the curious silver pendant around his neck.
Zethyris walks into the room, a grin on his face. "Friends! Good to see you again!" he calls out. "It has been too long. Do any of you know what Julianda wants us for?"
Zethyris seems antsy, shifting his weight slowly from foot to foot. Investigating with Montulo was fine, but not quite the same as the adventures we went on for Savol. He fiddles with a silver tankard-shaped pendant around his neck, a new affectation he picked up over the past months.
"And how have you all been?" he blurts out suddenly, as if only now remembering his manners. "I've heard some reports, but they leave out the interesting bits. Anything exciting happen while campaigning..." Zethyris nods to Jediah and Rutilux, "... or while on your special missions?" he finishes, turning to Julian and Ana.
Ana briefly explains what has happened to her during the last few months. About her time with Anabella she tells that she was lured into a forest by one of her kin. A fugitive just like herself, but not a friend. She had taught her how to protect her mind from incursion, but in the end the other woman had betrayed her trust and tortured her with a terrible illusion of dying.
"Anyways, it was good that it turned out this way. I learned something about the nature of my people." That is to say: about the nature of human people. "It gave me the chance to think and come to terms with who I am."
"I really hope Julianda has assembled us to prepare a counter-attack. Now that the enemy is retreating, its the perfect time to go on the offense. The war is going better than expected. But if we want to defeat the enemy once and for all, then Savol needs to take greater risks - and be willing to make greater sacrifices."
Rutilux heeds Ana's tale, unsure how to react or what to make of it. Part of me will always worry for her, but that is not my place anymore if it ever was, not beyond a friend anyway.
A river of scarred runes flow along his body like a story of agony and truimph. It is his way, his gift of thanks to Great Gorum for seeing his servant a useful weapon. Every carving on his skin a battle won and glory to him who forged the cleric into an instrument of his divine will. After several minutes the cleric pulls on his tunic and straps on his armor, his prayers at an end.
Skallangbiorn studies the encampment from the southern ridge, kneeling and contemplating. The past several months had seen a significant shift in the war effort. Behind him, Trollheim enjoyed the pull back along the border and raised the names of the dead to celebrate their sacrifice and the blessings of Gorum to speed their souls to glory.
Borghild....Huld...Sigurd...fell by arrows...poison and curses and arrows... Blackravens all, friends all... More names continue to fall from his mind like blood from a gaping wound. Skallangbiorn let's his blue eyes slip along the distant encampment as his lips move and recount the names of those lost.
Behind him Shaggyhorse tosses his head with eagerness, the animal knowing that some of his own allies are most likely less than a league away. There is also the imminent ability to slip the company of the big cleric who'd nearly been forced to slaughter and butcher him when the travel north had turned decidedly grim.
Admittedly, the cleric feels a measure of anticipation to see his new comrades again. But with the dark news of his brother Ravens... Brynyir, Hethlweith, Heathglof...the Tazylwyrms had erupted from the snowbank...a half-elf with skin like a white-washed sepulchar directing them in a hideous bastardization of elven...
He growls under his breath and stands, gathering Shaggyhorse's reins and stepping into the clearing. It isn't long before the Savol's outriders confront the cleric. Skallangbiorn provides the missive from Julianda and he's allowed to approach.
□■□■□■□■■■□■
His heavy steps bring him back to the chamber from whence they'd parted so many months prior. He listens for the different voices, picking out some...but not all.
"Of course there be a counter attack, the Lord in Iron need look no further," Skallangbiorn enters the chamber and places a fist over his heart and sweeps a hand to all present. "...for here are the weapons He seeks!"
He makes his rounds gripping hands in turn until he ends with Julian. "Gorum has a sense of humor, for I knew not the value of your skills until I was forced to slip into a Irrisen camp and slit a chieftan's throat..." Skallangbiorn gives the stealthy man a bow of respect. "I'm pleased to see you this side of of the Pharasma's grasp."
He glances about the room. "What news of the others? Thorvald? Isham?"
"I am here, I just returned from Tweyd"
Thorvald speaks as he walks into the room. He looks as strong as ever though slightly less hale to those with a keen eye, and he carries a vastly different Wintersbane than the one his companions last saw him with.
"I executed my duty and the village I was charged with holding still stands. Not as glorious a story as those I heard of Rutilux and Isham's efforts I am afraid, but I did get to see our dear friend and sister Dagmar. She is a Lady now . . . I . . . I was very badly burned. She rode to save me. It took several weeks, but she made me whole."
"After that I fought a leader of the Irissian force attacking my town, a great Werewolf Lord who commands werewolf winter wolves. Despite a desperate battle, I could not kill him. I didn't possess a weapon which could end him. I even burried Wintersbane deep into his heart."
"I am ashamed to say that in the end he left Winterbane, The Blackshield and my body shattered. Since I was not worth killing he left the town and me behind."
"Thanks to the Emerald Court's enchantment the Blackshield regret to mend itself, but I was physically broken by the Werewolf Lords fell hammer. Dagmar had left, so I returned here. Julianda sent me to Toopill. He helped me reforge Wintersbane of Kodiak Steel. I sacrificed a part of myself in the process and gave Gorum his due, but in the end, I also emerged reforged and remade anew."
"I have missed all of you, but none so much as Ana. The spirits hold that our travels travels have led us to dark places. I am glad we are all back together again, and this time I am better armed."
Thorvald reveals a length of the reforged Wintersbane's blade. The metal appears to be radiating heat from within the blade like the coals of a fire though no heat is felt coming from it. Instead, the fire is in Thorvald's eyes as he looks down at it.
His heavy steps bring him back to the chamber from whence they'd parted so many months prior. He listens for the different voices, picking out some...but not all.
"Of course there be a counter attack, the Lord in Iron need look no further," Skallangbiorn enters the chamber and places a fist over his heart and sweeps a hand to all present. "...for here are the weapons He seeks!"
He makes his rounds gripping hands in turn until he ends with Julian. "Gorum has a sense of humor, for I knew not the value of your skills until I was forced to slip into a Irrisen camp and slit a chieftan's throat..." Skallangbiorn gives the stealthy man a bow of respect. "I'm pleased to see you this side of of the Pharasma's grasp."
He glances about the room. "What news of the others? Thorvald? Isham?"
Rutilux grips the hand of Skallingborn when it is his turn, "We shall need Gorum on our side as much as he will allow in the days yet. A counter attack IS very likely but depending on how effective we've been, we may have delayed them some time or at least forced them to draw on reserves sooner than they'd like."
Then Thorvald announces himself...
"I am here, I just returned from Tweyd"
Rutilux greets Thorvald as well, glad to see he is okay, "I am sorry for your losses, my friend, but glad to hear Dagmar is well and that you have lived," Each of us changed it seems, some less than others.
"Of course there be a counter attack, the Lord in Iron need look no further," Skallangbiorn enters the chamber and places a fist over his heart and sweeps a hand to all present. "...for here are the weapons He seeks!"
"Your words are music to my ears. Welcome back!"
"Thanks to the Emerald Court's enchantment the Blackshield regret to mend itself, but I was physically broken by the Werewolf Lords fell hammer. Dagmar had left, so I returned here. Julianda sent me to Toopill. He helped me reforge Wintersbane of Kodiak Steel. I sacrificed a part of myself in the process and gave Gorum his due, but in the end, I also emerged reforged and remade anew."
"I have missed all of you, but none so much as Ana. The spirits hold that our travels travels have led us to dark places. I am glad we are all back together again, and this time I am better armed."
Ana approaches Throvald slowly and silently, always keeping her eyes on him, but keeping up her cold demeanor until she is only two steps away from him.
Then she literally jumps at him and hugs him.
"I missed you too! Glad to have you back in one piece."
"I just hope you didn't sacrifice any irreplaceable parts for that sword." She whispers suggestively, lightly tapping his crotch with her fingers.
Skallangbiorn chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest. Then he gives the half elf a nudge. "It would seem, Zethyris, that you are not the only one to have found their talisman..."
"And such a big and impressive talisman at that." Ana adds, looking at Zethyris' talisman approvingly, but with her hand still resting on Thorvald's private parts.
Someone needs a dunk in ice water.
"...good as it is to see you all ...I wonder the reason for our call."
Rutilux finds the walls fascinating.
"...good as it is to see you all ...I wonder the reason for our call."
"Perhaps to help with that counterattack Skallingborn speaks of?"
While you stand chatting amicably with each other Julianda strides into the room looking quite weary and a little dishevelled with several large scrolls and maps in her arms. "Welcome back all of you and I thank you for returning as quickly as possible. Yes, Bron is planning our counter attack already but first we need to recover and wait for several clans to arrive for that. But you weren't summoned for that, we need, Savol needs you all to investigate some troubling information."[/b she pauses! sets down her armload and rests against a nearby table, [b]"During Savol's antics behind enemy lines he found himself spending a night in an old overgrown guard house and while looking for things he could use for a fire he discovered several records dating back to the fall of the Kodiaks. These troubling notes accuse the kings nephew of betraying his family and not only poisoning the kings guards but stealing the Kodiak war crown and trying to deliver it into Irrissen hands." she pauses for a moment to allow everyone to time to consider her words, "the traitor whose name seems to have been stricken from record was hunted Down and eventually followed to a cave. Moments after the traitor fled into the cave his pursuers heard a bloodcurdling scream from inside. The record doesn't detail much more but it seems that not of the soldiers we willing to brave the cavern so the traitors body and the war crown may still be there. It took a while but we believe that we've figured out roughly where this cave or cavern should be and we want you to find it. But there are a few problems, the area is still under Irrissen control and we don't know if anyone since has entered and claimed the crown or if it even exits anymore."
Skallangbiorn watches as the old woman distributes the scrolls along the table top. "I wonder. A shard of glass will open an orc's belly just as surely as a dagger. Put the weapon in the hands of a man with will, it matters not the implement." He glances to the others then back to Julianda. "A crown is a crown, whether it rests upon the head of a tyrant or a fool. Savol strikes me as neither. What makes this war crown so necessary?"
"This War-crown is a symbol of the Kodiaks, for generations their high chief wore it while leading them into battle. Even if the item itself may be no more than a simple crown, to the Kodiak clan it carries heavy symbolic importance."
"Just to be clear ...it is not magical, yes? The Claws of the Kodiak are sent to venture deep into enemy territory, without backup, to fetch a symbol that might not be there?"