Characters 2

Kyle Ambrose (El'Qua)

Intro - Welcome to Pathfinder

Long ago, when forests spanned much of Avistan and elves were the dominant race, the land now known as the River Kingdoms was verdant and lively. This territory, adjoining Kyonin and Lake Encarthan was a place for high nobles and their courts to enjoy hunting and sport. The elves called it Telvurin, translated today in Taldane as "The Shifting Lands". The departure of the elves gave the human race new territory to explore, putting them in conflict with native creatures such as lizardfolk, frog-men, and suspicious fey. With its dozens of tributary rivers dividing the region into countless smaller territories, it became a natural place for outcasts, rebels, and petty tyrants.

One strange sanctuary found in this land is the modest town of Uringen which exists in two parts: the central part of town that comes "unstuck" from Golarion and fades in and out of reality, and the "static" portion that remains in the world. Many folk make their home here including humans, half-elves, gnomes and a smattering of others. Skilled woodsmen known as the Embeth Travelers live in camps in the Embeth forest surrounding the town and guide folk to its location in exchange for foodstuffs or other needed items, but refuse to enter the town proper. They also help protect the town from attack by the other denizens of the forest. The land is a vibrant tangle of nature, scattered with vagabonds, exiles, and criminals interested in remaining hidden, and practically abounds with alchemists running secret labs seeking profit from the trade of rare plants found only in the marshy areas of the surrounding woods. The folk of Uringen go about their lives tranquilly and quietly enough, but strange things are at work here and soon even stranger events will shatter their tenuous peace...

Characters

Vognar of the Linnorm Kings

A Deed Most Foul

Part 3 - Aelylaes (Encounter)

The fire struggled to banish the morning’s chill, or at least take the edge off of the deep cold a hole in the ground could attain during the winter. If nothing else, it provided a warm, cheery light, though it did little to melt the chill in Elordria’s heart. Remains of the previous night’s dinner (still fish, with a few of the easier to gather nuts and plants to provide a little spice) sat to the side of the fire circle, waiting to be delivered to the now expectant bear.

Elordria, warm in a sleeping roll, and not wearing much of anything after the previous night’s activities, once again began to worry in earnest about what would lay at the end of the journey they were to embark upon this day. How would she possibly justify this to her xenophobic people? Could she manage to sneak out of Mienar Forest with Vognar and attain a safe distance before being noticed by a patrol?

Feeling the waves of worry coming from his beloved, Vognar stood, wearing little more than a loincloth, and gathered the food remnants in preparation to make his way to the cave entrance to give them to their furry, if moderately ill-tempered, neighbor. As Vognar scooped up his great-sword and finished grabbing the last bits of food, Elordria faintly heard the sound of a raven outside the cave. The distinctive sound tickled Elordria’s memory, and while she attempted to sort out her thoughts, Vognar finished his task and disappeared around the bend in the cave.

‘I love her too much to let anything get in the way! Somehow, it will be made to work.’ thought Vognar desperately as he worked his way up to the cave entrance. A dimming of the light streaming in from the entrance caused his eyes to snap up in alarm. The silhouette of a trio of Elves, swords bared, blocked the entrance to the cave. With a wordless roar, Vognar threw the offal from dinner at them and charged, drawing his sword...

Startled by Vognar’s roar, Elordria’s memories snapped into place. The raven call - there weren’t any ravens in the Mierani Forest this time of year, and the pitch and timbre were all wrong. With shock, she realized that call could only mean her brethren had found them. Mortal fear for her beloved sent Elordria surging out of her bedroll, heedless of her state of dress (or lack thereof)...

***

A heady smell of hibernating bear emanated from the cave entrance to the left as Lythar, and Shol members Fel’thusaar and Tyl’las, advanced into the rightmost cave entrance behind the waterfall. As the three entered, their eyes picked out a nearly naked human carrying what appeared to be the remains of a meal in his hands. Three sets of eyes also immediately locked onto the great-sword's distinctive hilt protruding from over his shoulder.

Lythar was known for fast reflexes, but he was entirely unprepared for the roar that emanated from the human, and the sudden rain of fish bones, heads, and other garbage that pelted him. The human was making a primal sound, outstripping even the thunder of the waterfall at Lythar’s back as the human’s sword led the way in a headlong charge.

Steel rang as Lythar barely brought his Elven Curved Blade up to parry the charging thrust of the large human. Lythar’s training took over, however, and he rapidly lowered, then raised his center of gravity as the Ulfen ran into him, ramming his shoulder into the Ulfen’s gut. The result, while better than being spitted, was almost equally catastrophic, as both warriors’ swords flew from their hands, and the Ulfen was launched headfirst into Fel’thusaar and Tyl’las, upending the lot of them into a large pile of tangled limbs.

Being thrown by the diminutive Elf, coupled with frustration that his nascent plans should be so suddenly crushed, was just too much for Vognar, and a haze of red rage descended over his eyesight. All reason was now gone, as sheer anger and desperation gained instinctual control over the Ulfen.

Lythar managed to avoid being entangled in the pile of struggling bodies by continuing the movement his throw generated with a roll that put him deeper into the cave entrance. Tactically, Lythar realized that this position would also allow him to block the Orodae from reaching Elordria, or what may be left of her. He finished the roll by tumbling lightly onto his feet, and turned just in time to see the enraged Ulfen stand up with Fel’thusaar and Tyl’las hanging off of either arm, like puny tree limbs. Abruptly, Vognar windmilled an arm, causing Fel’thusaar to fly right past Lythar deeper into the cave. A dull thud sounded from behind a surprised Lythar as the unfortunate Elf impacted the cave wall behind him.

Tyl’las, undeterred by the sudden and swift departure of his companion, used the tenuous grip he still had on his longsword to bash the human behind the ear with the hilt. Vognar, eyes glazed slightly, but he reacted instantly, by crushing Tyl’las into the cave wall as hard as his rage-enhanced strength would allow. The mighty blow caused the longsword to fly from Tyl’las’ hand, and so did the breath from his lungs as the cave wall seemed to rise up and swat him. Somehow, though, the battered Elf managed to consolidate his grip, and worked around to the rear of the thrashing human.

Lythar, not to be outdone, and concerned for the safety of both of his friends, chose that opportunity to rush Vognar, managing to hit him low just as Tyl’las yanked backwards - sending all three struggling warriors flying backwards. Their fall was unexpectedly short, however, as they impacted a large, warm, furry wall.

***

The mother bear had spent the month feeding her cubs, and enjoying the frequent snacks left by her new neighbors. While she didn’t like the little pink hairless creatures anywhere near her den, one of them had said such nice things, so she had tolerated their presence, and the interruptions and odd smells that emanated from their branch of the cave.

Today, however, all of the roaring, screaming, yelling, and thuds were most unpleasant, and not at all conducive to a wholesome family environment. As her cubs squealed in fright, the bear decided she had had enough, and proceeded next door to file a complaint utilizing the only method available to her.

***

The warriors had but an instant to register that something was amiss before, with a roar that was far louder than the waterfall, the bear took a mighty swing at the interlopers who had so rudely interrupted her rest.

Lythar, having had the good fortune of seeing the swing coming while also being low to the ground, managed to roll to the side as the bear’s huge paw swept past overhead. Vognar and Tyl’las were not so fortunate, and the mighty blow knocked both of them off the narrow ledge and into the fast rushing water of the falls.

The bear was quite satisfied with the direction her complaint was taking so far, and decided to take it up with the remaining little pink ones in the cave. She could smell one of them close by, and two more farther back in the shaft.

Deciding that his best bet was to find a cleft or other feature of the rock that might give him a chance against the bear, Lythar quickly fell back deeper into the cave. As he turned to begin looking for a cranny to stuff himself into, his jaw dropped in shock as before him he saw Elordria, who was bent down over Fel’thusaar. Seeing the bear beginning to lumber deeper into the cave, Elordria quickly stood, passing a blushing Lythar to stand between him and the angry bear.

***

‘How is it that I always end up facing angry bears?’ Elordria thought grimly to herself as the bear’s roar washed her in fetid breath.

Standing tall, Elordria began the process of soothing the angry bear, always dancing just out of range of the bear’s lunges and swipes while speaking gently and steadily to the angry animal, refusing to show any reaction to its frustrated roars and whuffs. Lythar, wise to Elordria’s skill with the creatures of the forest, concentrated on staying out of her way and not presenting a convenient target. A quick glance at Felthusaar confirmed that he was stunned, seriously banged up, yet not mortally wounded.

As the bear’s protests fell from murderous rage to mere “annoyance”, Lythar quickly scooped up his blade from where it had fallen and walked steadily past the large animal out of the cave. ‘I’ll teach that...human...to enter Elven lands and have his way with our women!’

Lythar’s passing alarmed Elordria as she realized that, in her current state of (un)dress, Lythar might not wait long enough for her to leave the cave before dispensing the justice authorized to any of the warriors charged with guarding the forest. Despite her rush of worry, however, Elordria knew that the bear wasn’t yet in a condition where she could be left alone. Until she was back with her cubs, the groggy mother was a threat to all in the area. Her mind torn, Elordria turned fully back to calming and soothing the huge animal as quickly as possible.

***

‘The river bottom is quite pretty...all those little stones and pebbles, and there goes a little fish...’, Vognar’s sluggish thought processes suddenly realized that there was a hand on the back of his head, and he was under water. The hand gave a sharp tug on his hair, and he began hungrily sucking in air as he became aware of two Elves covering him with their bows, as the third finished his bindings. His head felt like someone had pounded on it with a sledgehammer, and the sight of the rocks at the base of the waterfall reminded Vognar of where his head must have landed for him to feel so.

Tyl’las finished tying Vognar with the enchanted assassin vines that the searchers had been given by Kaerishiel with a neat knot. The semi-intelligent vines snaked in two loops joined by a short length around his ankles, connected to the vines binding his wrists together in front of him, and finished with a join to a neat loop around the neck, which began to tighten alarmingly as Vognar squirmed a little. The entire rig restricted Vognar to short steps and an unhealthy hunched position. A leather gag finished off the arrangement.

“You’ll be wanting to hold really still now, ye filthy Orodae.” Tyl’las rasped in Vognar’s ear. “Those vines, you see, are quite hungry for blood. And while they’ll behave so long as you do, they’ll not hesitate to squeeze your head clean off of your shoulders if given half a chance.” With that pronouncement, Tyl’las roughly helped Vognar to stand and led him shuffling awkwardly to the river bank.

Lythar rounded the edge of the waterfall and smiled at the sight of his brethren holding the human, walking gingerly with a slight limp over to the group. Seeing that the situation was in hand, Lythar pulled a small signaling horn from his pack and blew a recall signal.

As the clarion note of the horn faded down the ravine, Lythar turned and faced Vognar, who unflinchingly returned his stare.

“I name you Orodae, a trespasser in the Mierani Forest, murderer of Elves, and violator of an Elven Maiden. The punishment is death.” Lythar announced loudly in Common. At the final word, Tyl’las pulled the Ulfen over to a snow covered log, and roughly laid him out face down with his neck at the highest point, using his hold on the vine joining wrists and neck to keep the human still. As Tyl’las’ hand jostled the joined vine, it once again tightened reflexively, restricting Vognar’s air supply and painfully cutting into his wrists.

Stepping up beside the human warrior, Lythar announced in Elven, “The punishment shall be carried out immediately, the Forest and our People shall be avenged”.

Lythar’s blade, with water droplets glinting in the dapples of weak morning sun, rose high above his head. Lythar finished the upswing in one smooth, practiced motion, and the muscles in his shoulders and back bunched as the blade gracefully began to fall...

A Deed Most Foul

Part 2 - Veser (Pursuit)

The ancient trees of the Mierani Forest swayed gently. As leaves gently fell to the ground, they passed a number of Elven Sentries strung out across the great valley. Mostly high in the trees, the Sentries were guarding one of the main approaches to enter/exit the Mierani Forest. Ravines and other natural hazards created a number of geographical funnels that most Orodaes had to utilize to enter/exit the area.

One hundred feet in the air, perched at the base of a wide branch, Lythar sat stock still with his back to the tree’s trunk as his eyes played back and forth in a scanning pattern, watching the slice of the valley to which he had been assigned. The leaves woven into his Tylaelaes (a cloak much like the gillie suit) fluttered softly in the stiffening breeze. As a quick sniff of the passing air revealed the ozone smell of the coming storm, Lythar sighed inwardly at what would definitely be another cold and wet night.

After a week of travel, Lythar and a small group of Thysaer Kasol had been monitoring the area for two additional weeks. In that time, they hadn’t seen hide, nor hair, of either the Orodaes that spurred their being ordered into the Forest, nor their Dark Cousins, who infested nearby Celwynvian. “It is, however, rather odd that we haven’t heard from Crying Leaf by now...” Lythar thought to himself. Surely Elordria dealt with the Orodaes and we will receive recall orders any day now with our relief?

The slightest tremble passing through the tree was all the warning Lythar had, as another Elf settled lightly onto the branch in front of him. A quick twitch, and Lythar froze as he found himself looking down his hastily drawn arrow at Kaerishiel, who was returning Lythar’s gaze with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you mean to spit me on that arrow then Shalaes Lythar?”, Kaerishiel asked dryly, yet very quietly.

“Of course not Tadal! Cry pardon!” Lythar responded equally quietly, as he reduced tension on the bowstring and re-concealed the bow and its nocked arrow inside his Tylaelaes.

“You need to be far more vigilant lad,“ Kaerishiel observed, as his own eyes scanned the forest floor and canopy, “there are Drow about if I don’t miss my guess. And these seem to have some skill, unlike most of their worthless brethren. Watch above, as well as below you. While Orodaes usually move with all the grace of a stampeding buffalo herd, and as such can be heard and smelled for miles, our shadowy cousins are far more circumspect and have a talent for appearing where, and when, least expected.”

For Kaerishiel to mention Drow with any type of respect was nearly unheard of, and an icy chill passed through a chastened Lythar, as he found his own eyes immediately darting to scan a much more sinister appearing forest canopy.

“There is at least one Stalker about, “ Kaerishiel continued, “and he is very good. Even Zerranthus was having trouble tracking him last month, prior to his coming and warning us of the Orodaes.” Kaerishiel paused, eying the young Thysaer Kasol scout, then said “But that is not why I’ve...dropped in...on you this evening. We have a much larger problem. It would seem that Lady Elordria and her retinue ran into more than they could handle with the Orodaes.”

At that proclamation, Lythar was completely floored. It was unfathomable to him that a small group of Orodaes could waylay Elordria and the Shin’Rakorath. In a moment, Lythar realized why they were still out on their original orders. His control slipped for a moment and his cloak shook in a way even a blind Orodaes couldn’t miss as he briefly tottered on the branch. “What happened?”

Kaerishiel replied “It must have been an ambush by a superior force. The tracks indicate that the Orodaes appear to have moved a good-sized raiding party into the Mierani Forest. From the evidence, it looks as if Elordria was likely carried off by one or more humans, while the rest beat a retreat towards the sea. We have scouts out looking for the main body now, and it may be war, lad. In the mean time, I’ve been following horse tracks for a week now that appear to be related to Lady Elordria herself, and when I passed near your post, I decided that I should have some extra help, in the event that this is a trap.”

With that revelation, Kaerishiel looked thoughtful for a moment, then removed a small wooden box from his cloak and handed it to Lythar. “You were first in your class were you not Lythar?”

“Aye, that I was Tadal.” Replied Lythar, taking the box and gently pushing the cleverly concealed lid open, to reveal a small silver insignia consisting of the crossed leaves of the rank of Valaes (Runner, or Wing Leader).

“You’re out of uniform Lythar, and you and your Shol (Wing, or Squad) are assigned to me until this crisis is over.”

At that news, Lythar once again almost fell off his branch. To be promoted and assigned to one of the greatest Elven Shas Jhaedaes (War Leaders) in one day was almost too much.

“Valaes Lythar, your Shol is to accompany myself and my Shin’Rakorath in pursuit of the Lady Elordria. We’re ordered by the Lady Eviana to bring her back, dead or alive, without regards to the cost to ourselves to do so.” Kaerishiel’s eyes hardened as he assumed a grim visage and continued, “These filthy interlopers can not be allowed to possess her in any way, shape or form, and they’ll pay very dearly for their transgression.”

With that proclamation, Kaerishiel dropped lightly down the bole to the ground. As he did so, a half dozen Shin’Rakorath seemed to materialize out of nowhere, some in the canopy, others on the forest floor. Lythar marvelled that he hadn’t noticed any them prior to that moment.

Loudly giving the bird call for “form on me” followed by “make ready to march”, Lythar descended the tree rather more slowly (and less deftly) than Kaerishiel had. Then, attaching the new rank on the collar of his studded armor, waited for the...no, his...Shol to arrive from their posts and make ready to leave.

***

The silent forest’s reverie was broken briefly by the forms of Elves living up to their fey nature as they became visible in brief glimpses flitting through the trees. Now and again, one or more of the forms would pause momentarily to read sign, or to watch their back trail. To an observer, it was almost as if the dense undergrowth moved aside for the graceful Elves, who seemed not bothered at all by tangles of briars or vines.

Lythar had now been in pursuit of the interloper for a few days. Kaerishiel’s ability as a tracker had absolutely stunned him, as the older Elf picked up sign that the younger Elf barely noticed even when it was pointed out to him.

On the fifth day, the trail seemed to stop near at the edge of a ravine. While it appeared that one or more items had gone down the steep slopes, the sign was muddled, and confused.

“Lythar, take your group down into the ravine for a look, we’ll continue farther downstream and see if we can pick up the trail again. Meet up with us at sundown.” Kaerishiel ordered in an almost silent voice.

Nodding once to Kaerishiel, Lythar looked at his Shol and indicated the ravine. The five Elves immediately began to carefully pick their way down the side, as Kaerishiel and the Shin’Rakorath continued downstream, slowly checking the ground for the trail they had been following for so long.

Upon reaching the ravine floor, Lythar’s eyes immediately picked up scattered horse prints heading downstream along the ravine’s floor. As he began to move to follow them, the low morning sun peeked its way through the thick canopy to pick out a detail that would have gone unnoticed otherwise - the horse’s prints weren’t as deep as they had been on prior rare occasions that they could be found. Looking even closer at a few relatively clear prints in a sheltered part of a rain pocked snow drift revealed that the horse couldn’t have been carrying much at all when it made those prints, let alone two bodies, and the lack of any obvious accompanying prints immediately sent a chill up Lythar’s spine.

At that moment, a raven sounded from behind him. Lythar turned his head to see Fel’myhtaria, an excellent tracker in her own right. As he quietly joined her, she pointed at a spot Lythar had missed where the river stones, old icy snow, and sand had been scattered haphazardly in an attempt to sweep away tracks....their prey had definitely been in this area for an extended time.

With a quick signal, Lythar’s Shol immediately melted into their surroundings, bows springing into their hands as they did so, leaving Lythar to draw his Elven Curved Blade as his eyes began scanning around him.

A meditative technique he’d learned as a child while playing the wolf version of hide and seek (the wolves cheated of course, with their sensitive noses) allowed Lythar’s unfocused gaze to notice a pair of caves tucked up under the ravine wall, behind a fall of water. Now that he was looking, it was obvious, as the ravine wall’s tilt would have created a much different pattern in the cascade. Further scanning pointed to those caves as being the only likely place their prey could hide, if they were indeed still in the area.

After indicating the cave to the covering Shol Members, Lythar and two of his burlier compatriots cautiously advanced on the shared cave entrance.

Vognar two months earlier…Part 4

Vognar two months earlier…Part 4

What would have been two weeks of recovery for the wounded elf quickly turned into a month due to her feigned slow recovery, as the pair became closer than either had thought possible. Winter now fully on the Mierani Forest, the previous night had been spent in unexpected passion and warmth, something that neither had ever known before. However Vognar was coolly quiet that frigid evening, even the fire he built did not seem to warm his condition.

Lying against his broad firm chest, Elordria wondered if he had grown tired of her company, now that he had her. Men especially human men where known for that, “You seem far away tonight”. She spoke softly in elven.

He stirred at the statement as if pulled away from troubled thoughts; “Hrrrm” was the only answer she received for some long moments.

“We should leave tomorrow and try to make one of your peoples cities, now that you are well”, stroking her long fair hair with his calloused hands.

She stiffened in his embrace, sitting up looking intently at him, Elordria pain glinting in her giant golden eyes. “Do you grow tired of me so quickly”, attempting to be coy but with more concern than she had planned.

Vognar looked shocked at first, then a strange smile of incredulity, followed by a loud laugh, “You think I wish to be rid of you, that I grow weary of your company so soon?” poking at her playfully to which she reposted with mocked shock and punches on his rock hard arms. The playful match ended in a embrace and a kiss.

Relieved that was not the case; she had more feelings for this Orodae than thought possible, nuzzling close to him again. “Then what troubles you”? Pressing him.

“I am concerned about my people and yours” daring to ruin the mood at the mention of the Ulfen raiders and appearance of her dark cousins. ”Although my concern is for your safety, we must travel in this weather, tell our leaders what has happened so that nothing ill comes to pass between them”.

More meekly now, Vognar dared “Then I will ask for your hand from your father and fight other suitors for your love”, more seriously at the last part.

Now it was Elordria’s turn to be stunned by Vognar, as a myriad of emotions crossed her face. ‘He wants to marry me? How wonderfully sweet and ridiculous, but he will die in a mere forty or fifty years, barring violence or sickness, she will still be an young adult’. She welled up at the thought of those few short decades together being so passionate but short.

‘Her family, what would they say they hated Orodaes, like him, rightly fearing their judgment of Vognar would be tainted by recent events’. Elordria swore, naively, she would not allow her people to harm him, but begrudgingly admitting, ‘that even if she had not fallen for this young man, she might have shared their contempt and condemnation of his kin’.

With a sigh, “Yes my love I want all the things you do and it is true there is danger but we must face it”, looking up into his icey blue eyes brushing a lock of hair from his face trying to etch this moment into her memory for all time. Their lips met in a tender kiss, resting her head back on his chest her eyes full of emotion.

“When” was all she could manage without weeping.

“Tomorrow”, feeling her fears Vognar drew her close surrounding Elordria in his strong embrace. The star-crossed lovers spent their last night in warmth, love and passion; soon their worlds would be turned upside down.

Vognar several months earlier…Part 3

The brush and scrub of the Mierani forest cut and scraped the big Ulfen man hunched over as far as he could without crushing his unconscious elven passenger. His horses breathing more labored than normal due to the poisoned bolt in the mares rear rump.

The venomous dark elven darts meant for Vognar missed him, but one struck exhausted mount. Collapsing to the ground in a heap the horse toppled falling to the ground unconscious. The passengers were flung wide of the mount, down a ravine side, to a stream bank below. Cold muddy but alive the young Ulfen warrior got up and spotted a cave up stream behind a cascading waterfall about hundred yards ahead.

Checking on the elf, she appeared to not have regained consciousness during the fall and her wound would need seeing too soon if she were to survive.

If his instincts about the dark elves where correct, they would be excellent trackers like the surface ones, they needed to hide, heal, pray that they passed this area bye. Then he could head for the coast and then north with his elven prize. An elven witness, as both a prisoner and prize, would make him renown among his kin.

“If I survive” chuckling quietly and ironically to himself.

Drawing his fathers huge two handed sword the Ulfen warrior strode cautiously in knee deep cold water of the stream and under the waterfall, into the cave that was deeper than it originally looked from the outside.

Curving in for some twenty paces to the left and opened up larger area. To the right another smaller tunnel where one would have to crawl on all fours to proceed further inside seemed to go for farther than the human could see.

Something stirred to the left and growled annoyed, at its rest being disturbed, Vognar froze as something large and brown rolled over and yawned. A huge brown bear lay resting in the left cave, apparently getting a jump on its winters nap.

Cursing himself a fool he tried to retreat out of the cave but the she bear woke rolling up on all fours with speed that belied its large girth, revealing three small cubs, who now cried out at having their breakfast interrupted. The momma bear roared with rage and Vognar flew from the cave, not before slipping on the mossy rocks to fall into the stream he left earlier face first.

Vognar managed to hold on to his sword thankfully. He jumped up and spun around as the angry bear emerged from the waterfall-covered cave, angrily striding towards the soaked Ulfen warrior.

“Lower your weapon, your head and step back slowly human, on your life” a weak feminine voice spoke behind him.

Looking to his left, the elf maid knelt weakly on the ground leaning against the bank. “Do it or she will kill us both”, she hissed with as much energy as she could.

Although against his nature, Vognar did as he was instructed. As he did the wounded elf began to speak soft soothing tones to the mother bear in a language the Ulfen did not understand, for it was not the common tongue or the language of the elves, ‘some other magic perhaps’, he wondered.

The she-bear roared at the two for some time but eventually it calmed to a grumpy growl, only wanting to protect her young and drive out intruders. The mother bear did not want to fight and leave its cubs unattended.

“Now … open you pack and toss her the food in it”, Elordria stated as even toned as possible.

“Are you INSANE that is all the food we have” the young human, scolded the elf woman, to which the bear roared loudly at the sudden movement by the large man who froze and looked at his feat again.

“Please do not make any sudden movements or yell” the elf said quietly still keeping her tone lilting and sweet towards the bear, but clearly talking thru her teeth at the human. “Just do it”.

Annoyed but in no position to argue with a bear that weighed nearly a thousand stones, Vognar pulled out some meats, cheeses and breads he had packed for the long crossing. Tossing them on the riverbank, the brown beast’s sensitive sense of smell and hunger got the better of her and she began to eat. After all the food was gone, the bear satisfied the pair meant no threat, had calmed down to heavy sighs and lumbered back into her cave to tend her young.

The odd pair both breathed a sigh of relief. “How did you do that”? “What language was that”? Vognar said turning on her his curiosity getting the best of him.

Elordria swooned from the energy used to calm the bear, her wound and poison, “sSstupid human, it’s amazing you have survived this long”, and she began to loose consciousness.

Running to catch her he slapped her face to trying to keep her awake, Vognar pressed, “Which way is the sea? Where are your people”?

Her eyes, rolling back now head lolling about, opened one last time, “You will need more food to get in there …” eying the cave, slipping back into black oblivion.

Piecing together a plan Vognar laid the maiden down and covered her in his fur cloak. Removing the sleep dart from the horse and rousing the animal he pointed the horse in a direction and smacking its wounded rump so that it would run on for miles. Hopefully leading pursuers off after he animal. Then he cleared the trail as best as he could of their decent into the ravine.

Although not particularly wise Vognar was smart and new how to fish and hunt. By midday he had speared a half dozen salmon from the river down stream using the water to travel hiding his scent and tracks. Living on the edge of the cold north his father had taught him many such lessons on how to survive.

Using the fish to bribe the bear, he now called ‘Norga’, into the letting them stay in the smaller cave to the right. Able to leave and enter as long as he had food for his new land liege, of course not without receiving a customary growl from the surly mother bear each time he passed the entrance reminding him that he was a guest at her good graces.

Removing her dart, cleaning the wound, Vognar made a low fire to warm them both as he tended to the noble elf girl for three days, she lay unconscious and feverish.

With a start in the low light Elordria woke unsure of her surroundings a huge human barely dressed save his leather breeches reclined by a dim fire. The stench of him, wet bear, moist earth and fish assaulted her nostrils, as did her aching wound and ringing head.

“By the gods what did you do to me”, the elven girl croaked, weakly trying to sit up, she noticed her wrapped chest wound, made from his shirt. He used layers of his own clothes used to keep her warm.

Vognar just stared at her popping some cooked trout in his mouth and chewed deliberately. She gazed at the young man who stared at her so intently, barely twenty winters old, but so many scars covering his body for one so young she mused. He had to recline in the low, dark, cave where she could actually sit up and not hit her head. Easily as big as the war leader, Vognar accompanied at the ruins, he was covered in muscles well defined from hard work or from raiding peaceful elven towns she thought sourly.

Motioning to the food on the fire Vognar wondered how he would get her to be his prisoner. She although looked younger than him was most certainly his senior by sixty years and crafty. His mother had told him that the long lived elves where once fey and tricky. In this situation there would be no way to take her across elven and drow lands by force without them getting them both caught and him killed by either race of elf.

“My name is Vognar, son of Kursk and Ulga and you are my prisoner. Eat you will need your strength.” Popping another piece of fish into his mouth and spitting the bones into the fire.

Elordria nearly laughed aloud, “I am no one’s prisoner you smelly savage and when you sleep I will slit your throat” she lilted playfully, in elven, smiling as if to insinuate thanks for the food.

“You ARE my prisoner, Elordria of Crying Leaf, I saved your life and your virtue, although I offend your sensitive nose, and have no doubt that our destinies are entwined”.

“Both your life and your virtue belong to me now”. He spat back at her in her native language for emphasis.

“How far will either of us get in this forest with so many of your dark kin about?” The reference to the drow along with the shock of hearing it in her own language jarred Elordria. The thought of what the dark elves would have done, caused a shiver up her spine that calmed her ire towards her new captor.

Grateful to be alive and introspective about her situation she began to regard the Ulfen youth more appraisingly than before. As she ate, fish from the river, silently noting it was not some animal killed so he could not be tracked back to their cave. If Vognar knew elven then also was able to assess that they did not usually eat many animals so he was considerate and intelligent, despite his rash and savage exterior. ‘We have the humans all lumped together, but this one is different’ she musing at his long unkempt blond locks and beardless chiseled jaw she had never seen a human before lest be left alone with one. Her brother would boil with anger if she saw this Ulfen.

Smiling to her self, ‘With a bath he might even be handsome’.

Noticing her amusement Vognar scowl grew deeper only drawing the smile out of Elordria into a giggle, who thought, he looked more like the grumpy bear that slept in the cave next to them.

“What do you laugh at elf”, the Ulfen tried to sit up but hit his head on the low stone ceiling, causing her to blurt out laughing even more.

“I am serious, you’re my prisoner. This is no laughing matter”, the big man stated wincing and rubbing his sore head, looking less dangerous and more humorous to her as before.

Shaking her head in apology but unable to contain her giggles which hurt her wound. Vognar thought how he must look to her, probably as odd as she looked to him causing him to smirk and then join her in laughter.

The over the next week two sparingly exchanged stories of their lives. The elf maiden corrected his elven and he explained his customs to her but kept the secret of why the Ulfen had come to the Mierani forest in the first place figuring plunder of her elven ancestors would dampen her spirits. As Elordria kept her own private thoughts about the alarming number of dark elves in her peoples ancestral home.

Vognar began to care for her more like a comrade and less like a prisoner or a prize. He even bathed freqently in the waterfall that was growing cooler with winter approaching. Elordria’s wound grew better each day but she feigned a slow recovery biding her time as to get to know her ‘captor’ better for her people. Originally planning to escape, but soon she discovered that when he left for food, she missed their talks and his company, so she recovered slowly that their time together would not stop.

A Deed Most Foul

Part 1 - Shaendrolol (Beginnings)

“If I were a drow stalker, you’d all be feeding the trees right now - and that is most certainly an affront to manure, which at least HAS a valid function around here!”

The female instructor’s voice crashed into the pre-dawn darkness of the barracks, just as she and her three assistants illuminated themselves by unhooding their lanterns.

Throughout the room, young elves crashed to the floor in surprise, either fighting to get out of their bedsheets, or tangling their limbs with their shocked and struggling bretheren. The Instructor, known to the Elves of Crying Leaf as Shalelu, sighed, and eyed the assistant to her left. “You think this lot is worth the effort Sulaarn?”, she asked while rolling her eyes in barely concealed mirth.

“Probably not, but we may as well try Shalelu.” Sularn replied with an eye-roll of his own.

“Get your gear and fall in, drow bait!” Shalelu yelled.

The instructors begin to lay about them with willow switches. Vaeler (Recruits) not moving fast enough got a firm swat on exposed skin, creating a chorus of yelps as the instructors moved through the barracks.

In the bedlam, Lythar Kille'eplith untangled himself from the fellow Vaeler that had landed on him as Lythar was rolling clear of the lower bunk. Lythar’s sapphire eyes seemed to glow in the dim light as he pulled his raven black hair back into a leather thong. Ducking an instructor’s switch as it whistled by, Lythar grabbed his tunic and breeches and began to maneuver his way through the chaotic throng of other recruits.

As he slipped by Shalelu, who was happily swinging her switch at laggard Vaeler and chuckling almost evilly under her breath, Lythar couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe that his group had pulled her as their instructor. Shelelu spent most of her time out on patrol, usually patrolling haunted Celwynvian or roaming the edges of the forest in search of Orodaes (Outsiders). The village of Crying Leaf was awash in stories of her prowess in battle, her propensity for almost disappearing from sight when sitting still, and her ability to get in and out alive from areas that had swallowed entire patrols without a trace.

As far as Shalelu was concerned, she would rather have been out drawing blood than training a bunch of wet behind the ears Thysaer Kasol (Forest Guardian) candidates. She knew, however, the absolute importance of molding this raw material into a premier fighting force. The Mierani Forest seemed to act as a lure for foolish bands of humans and other races who were attracted to the stories of great riches in the nearby ancient Elven ruin of Celwynvian. While the riches were definitely there, and were remarkable, outsiders had no business plundering Elven tombs and priceless artifacts. Besides, cleaning up the bodies after a demon, or one of the other denizens of the ruins got a hold of a group of Orodaes was a filthy business - after all, their bodies couldn’t be left to further corrupt the fallen city, or rise again to plague the countryside.

Noticing one of the Vaeler mooning at her, Shalelu took a hard swipe with her switch at the raven-haired youth’s shoulder, grunting in surprise when he not only dodged the blow, but seemed to instantly once again be in motion as he flowed out of the barracks, easily dodging the chaotic movements of his fellows. “Maybe this won’t be entirely a waste of time...” she thought to herself as yet another yelp sounded at the end of her switch.

***

In the months that followed, Lythar watched more than half of his fellow Vaeler fall out of the program. Many would continue learning the trades of their parents, or become town militia. Lythar, though, took to the program with relish, and often surprised his instructors (and himself) with his progress in training. You see, Lythar was a little different than many of his brethren.

Lythar wasn’t a “City Elf” (though admittedly, a traveled Elf would hesitate to call the small hamlets and towns of the Mierani Forest “Cities”). Unable to stay cooped up in his home, or even in the confines of the town of Crying Leaf, Lythar spent most of his childhood in the forest itself. This “natural” education gave Lythar an edge not obtained by many Elves, and his youth spent running with a friendly pack of local wolves and living “rough” in the wilds had granted him skills in tracking and survival and a physique built for combat. After a while, even Lythar’s parents stopped trying to “civilize” him - “some elves are just born for the wilds” they’d say while clucking their tongues.

While he stayed well away from the haunted ruins of Celwynvian, as a youth, Lythar had come to feel more at home in the forest than inside of buildings and towns. This forlorn childhood made him perfect for Thysaer Kasol. As for his parents, they were very happy to see in him a joy for the hunt, and that he had found a calling that suited his very nature. After all, it was the next best thing to him becoming a Druid and going “wild”.

***

Over the next year of training, the group of Vaeler became smaller and smaller. Lythar quickly established himself as one of the more skilled of the group, and rose to become the Thos Vaeler, or First Recruit. After a year of training, and improving their skills in archery and with blades of many sorts, along with improved skills in tracking and survival, Lythar and the small remainder of Vaeler left in his class reached Graduation. As was custom, the entire town of Crying Leaf turned out to welcome the new Thysaer Kasol into their midst.

Upon Graduation, the Vaeler became Shalaes, or Walkers. Charged with patrolling the forest in small groups as scouts, their first years in the service of the Forest were usually as watchers and scouts, tasked with keeping tabs on any Orodaes who penetrated the sacred Forest, notifying the more senior Thysaer Kasol of their location so they could be appropriately dealt with.

That night, as the celebration feast began to wind up, though, a tired and winded Elf burst into the town proper.

“Orodaes,” growled Zerranthus, “have come to desecrate Celwynvian. To arms!”

At Zerranthus’ rasped call, Lythar’s head snapped up, a mixture of excitement and dread filling him. His hands immediately began to check for the presence of his omnipresent bow, arrows, and sword, as well as the other gear granted to Shalaes, and expected to be on their person at all times.

Tadal (Captain) Kaerishiel Neirenar, head of the Shin’Rakorath, the elite warriors of the Mierani Forest, conferred quietly with Zerranthus, and then immediately called to all warriors present to gather for assignments. Lythar was tasked to a screening force which was ordered to the far side of Celwynvian to reinforce the Shalaes already on watch in that area, and to help prevent any runners from getting too much farther into the forest. Upon receiving their orders, Lythar’s group loped off into the forest to take their stations.

Having seen the newly minted group of Shalaes off, Kaerishiel turned to Lady Elordria and her assigned squad of Shin’Rakorath. “M’Lady, why don’t you and your group see our friends back to wherever they came from?” he said with a smirk.

“With pleasure Kaerishiel!” Lady Elordria replied, as she turned to the grizzled veterans under her command. “To horse! Let us kindle a desire in these Orodaes to be on their way!”

With a hearty roar, Lady Elordria and her Shin’Rakorath retinue thundered off towards Celwynvian....

Vognar several months earlier…Part 2

Zerranthus leapt from tree branch to tree branch tracking his quarry but the dark stalker was adept at staying just out of bowshot, and the sun was going down soon. Although elves see in starlight just as well as they do during the day tonight was a new moon with clouds and that meant his quarry would have the advantage.

Cursing that he would need to find a place to hold up till sun up, Zerranthus found a large hollowed out spot in a great darkwood tree where he could get some rest and continue after his prey in the morning. After quietly eating some mixed nuts and berries, his sister had packed for him, the elven warrior laid several soft pine branches in his hollow and began to settle in to meditate and rest. Four hours is all he needed of reverie before he could begin the trail again, more time than Zerranthus wanted to spare for someone so vile, but it could not be helped.

Barely cognizant of the rhythmic drops of rain that fell on the trees branches, his rest was interrupted by the sounds of hoof falls on twigs below. His pointed ears twitched instinctively as hearing the rattle of horse bridles, some language akin to bastardized dwarven mixed with common, being whispered by the travelers. Then his nose was filled with the wet stink of them.

‘HUMANS’, his nose wrinkled at their odor of sweat, furs, and horse, so strong he could have shot them in the dark.

Apparently the Ulfen thought the tree a good place to make camp as well for all their horses where tied below. Just over fifty, mostly males but a few female, warriors began to break off and make low fires in groups of five or ten.

Zerranthus leaned forward making out their leader, a tall man at almost seven stones high, with long immaculately braided salt and pepper colored hair and beard, dressed in the furs of a winter wolf and worn but sturdy looking plate mail covered his broad muscular frame. Although most of the north men where large easily over six stones high or higher, this one was immense and carried himself with great grace despite his size.

‘Most likely the war party leader’, the elf mused. Only one other seemed to even come close to his size a fair-haired youth who followed he great warrior like a wolf pup. But even a pup has fangs and what the Ulfen youth lacked in experience he made up in size and impressive physique most likely the strongest man among them next to the leader.

Their presence vexed the elven warrior. ‘What where they doing here? Surely they where not so foolish to think they would attack the elves in their forest home?’ Plunder and prey would be easier to find further south.

Of course the Ulfen also enjoyed challenges in battle, exotic prisoners, like elves had been taken by his people hundreds of years ago.’ Zerranthus heart turned cold at the thought of these humans encroaching on his homelands for slaves, the thought of some blond barbarian youth taking his sister as a prize boiled his elven blood.

“Filthy humans” he mouthed silently between his teeth. There would be no rest for Zerranthus tonight he must make Crying Leaf before the dawn tomorrow, to warn them of the humans. His hunt of the dark stalker must wait in spite of how close he had come to finding him this time.

Vognar laid his wet pack by the fire in hopes it would dry out before he laid to rest with the others in a circle. Sentries where set up around the war party but none noted the elven warrior slipping past them with ease.

Above the tree hollow Zerranthus used, the dark stalker laid motionless mere branches away from his surface elven counterpart. His ebony skin, pointed ears and red eyes saw the exchange of contempt Zerranthus had toward the humans. How the dark elf wanted to kill the elf warrior, being so close to his surface enemy made him tremble with anger, it would have been simple, but his orders where specific 'do not engage our surface brethren yet'. However the trap of mistrust was set and what he had accomplished what he was told to. Soon the humans and surface elves would go to war.

Vognar laying beneath the great tree thought of the elves and what they might look like, then a shadow moving above caught his eye. The young warrior sat up peering intently at the tree branches above, for a moment thinking he saw elf demons in the trees shadows above. Shaking his head, the dark apparition disappeared, apparently a trick of light and shadow, he laid down dreaming of gold and glory.

The following morning the invading humans came to a set of ruins near the ancient elven city, many of the younger warriors wondered if they had arrived at Celwynvian. Ingimundr their leader corrected that this was once a watch post but they were close to the city, perhaps another day. A sudden stillness came over the air and animals, that alerted Ingimundr to danger. The trees where silent the war leader noted, reaching for his axe and shield, about to warn his men, a voice clearly accented, but well spoken, broke the silence as and arrow landed a hairs breathe from Ingimundr.

Vognar reached for his weapon but was held in place by Ingimundr shaking his head. “You are intruders here, HUMAN, go back to your ships and leave now or you will feed the trees and birds with your carcasses. You are surrounded.” A clearly elven female voice spoke from the cover of trees ahead of him, in the common tongue.

“I go where I please, perhaps you are just one or few and we are many. I might accidently burn your forest you will have no place to hide anymore, come out so we can talk. Either that or my men and I continue on.” Ingimundr had no intention of talking; Vognar knew this, his hand edging for his own great sword, staring intently at the trees for a glimpse of an elf to charge.

“My name is Ingimundr King of Bilt with whom do I parley wit?” attempting to stall for more time and assess the locations of his enemies.

Seeing the obvious ruse, “You will not find us human besides we smelled you long before we heard you, we could shoot you down blind folded.” The female elf jeered. “My name is Lady Elordria of Crying Leaf and you are not welcome here”.

“Go home NOW, or suffer the…” A series of twangs was heard all around but no arrows flew towards Ingimundr and his men, interrupting the young elf maids’ words. The ringing of swords and elven calls of alarm where cried out all around the Ulfen. Confused and angry at the injury to his pride, Ingimundr yelled for his men to arm themselves and find them.

His men confused attempted to follow their leaders orders, spreading out in every direction to engage the elves, but soon found two groups of elves fighting amongst the boughs and branches above. One very small group fair skinned elves like they had envisioned and the other larger group of sinister looking wraiths with skin dark as night fighting amongst the boughs and branches above them. Unable to reach them in the trees above and unable to keep up with their aerial speed and agility they stood confounded.

Vognar had heard the tales of dark elves and elves warring from his mother, a sky maiden, but could not have imagined the grace and speed of these fierce people until now. Standing dumbfounded the naive Ulfen warrior watched as the dark elves that out numbered the elves four to one still took great losses to their surface cousins who fought with brave desperation.

Ingimundr strode up beside him seeing the macabre spectacle of battle between the two races above, realized the rumors where true about the ancient Mierani forest being a place held by dark elves.

Calling to his men he yelled in Skald, “To the horses and back to the ship. RETREAT!” Turning to Vognar hand on his shoulder, “Come boy we must leave and tell the other Kings of this, or this will be the last thing we see.”

Ingimundr although crude and unruly was no fool, the sight of so many dark elves meant death for him and his men. With no other option the Ulfen raiders saddled and ran for the bay before the dark elves finished their work with their surface cousins. All except Vognar, who stood in awe of the battle above, too long and was soon left alone in woods among the fray of elves, which was quickly dying out.

A particularly beautiful but young elf maid became cornered by a male drow warrior, locked in heated exchange of ringing blades, the she elf deftly dodged the male marauders rapier thrusts, in time to be struck mid section by a small crossbow dart.

Laughing in hateful glee “My poison will do its work my fair haired cousin and you will suffer at my hands tonight I will take pleasure in your screams” the dark evil sneered hatefully.

Elordria was the daughter of a noble house, refusing to show the drow any fear, in spite of poison doing its work and feeling heavier by the moment. However, she could not ignore that her eyes, arms grew heavy and after a few more weak exchanges her weapons fell to the ground, which came rushing up towards her. Her last sight was the dark elf standing over her laughing evilly unbuckling his breeches.

Vognar ran to his mount as soon as she came into view, realizing all too late he had lingered too long, he prepared to leap on his horse and retreat as he was ordered. However when the elf maid was struck, with a poisoned bolt, something snapped deep within him, as the dark elf loomed over the young elf maid to gloat, all he could see is red, changing his direction Vognar rushed the dark elf with his horse.

Yizven turned at the last second at the sound of hooves barring down on him, barely deflecting the large humans immense sword swing, he was clipped by the large animal. Spinning Yizven was knocked head first into a tree and unconscious.

Vognar didn’t actually intend on hitting the drow, just distract him long enough to reach down and heft the elf girl over his saddle. He was surprised how light she was to lift, despite her height. His broad strong arms easily raised her up and Vognar spurred his horse to a gallop, deeper into the forest away from his people and the battle, trailed only by angry dark elven cries and poisoned bolts.

“STOP” a dark robed and hooded drow stood amongst them with a commanding presence, seeing his troops about to give chase to the solitary human. “Leave them, we can hunt them at our leisure they head further into our lands”.

“Gvneresti”, the hooded leader hissed aloud calling the dark stalker, who instantly appeared kneeling before his master.

Pointing after Ingimundr and his men, “Hunt those foul north men down and bring their bodies and equipment to me… use no poison to retrieve them, leave none alive”, a vile sneer crossed the leaders stony onyx face, “it must look like our elven cousins fought valiantly.”

“As you wish my lord”, the dark stalker stated.
“The elf girl and the Ulfen pup” the assassin questioned hopefully?

The drow leader Nolveniss nodded understandingly from deep his dark hood, “Very well, when you are done with your work you may hunt them down as well alone they are yours”.

Smiling triumphantly, the dark stalker nodded for the dark elven warriors to follow him north, after the Ulfen men, disappearing into the dark like silent specters most of the drow warriors departed, leaving their leader and just a two body guards to change the battlefield to look like Ulfen had fought here.

Burning the area Lord Nolveniss called upon all his dark arts of magic and cunning to obscure the terrain, while his best trackers removed signs of the drow having ever been there so they could place the bodies of the Ulfen warriors about stragetically.

'The elves will blame the humans and we will use their distraction to our advantage' he mused. 'Only the elf maid and the human can ruin my plans now'.

Vognar several months earlier…Part 1

Vognar several months earlier…

The rough frigid waters of Steaming Sea with its rocky shoals rocked the long ship filled with fifty men led by, Ingimundr the Unruly, the current ruler of Bildt, a fierce warrior who advocates returning his people to the ancient Ulfen practice of reaving the southern lands. Not supported in this by the other leaders of his lands, and the Norns and the Fates advise against it, but many Ulfen warriors, like Vognar, who are eager for the spoils of the South and the conquest of the lands lost long ago to the Witch Queen have flocked to his banner.

Sitting near the tiller where Ingimundr navigated, Vognar concentrated on keeping his breakfast down. The other fifty warriors slept or talked covered in fur cloaks to shield them from the torrential rains. He had been on boats before but not this far out to sea and not in such turbid waters. No land had been sited in some days and the young warrior wondered how his island-bred kin knew how to navigate, on waters that churned green black, darkened stormy skies, with no stars to guide them.

Not to mention stories he had heard of sirens, sea serpents, linnorms, and other dark creatures that would love to claim fifty Ulfen warriors and their horses and draw them into the frozen black depths below. “Shouldn’t we stay closer to land m’lord Ingimundr” Vognar dared to question.

Laughter erupted from deep in the war leaders chest, even above the deafening storm, a hearty guffaw at the young Vognar, who was barely nineteen winters, who showed uncertainty, “No boy, its more dangerous for us to be closer to land. Rocks and other creatures stay closer to them waiting for us to fall upon them. Out here we use the routes laid out by our kin, besides we do not want the dark gods of the depths to think we fear them.”

Ingimundr laughed a bit louder looking at the very pale green Vognar who fought the urge to wretch at the constant rocking of the long boat. “You look just like yer father the first time he and I took to sea on an venture like this.”

“He might have been a shade or two greener though”, he winked encouragingly with a chuckle to the young warrior.

“Do not fear young Vognar soon we will be north of Celwynvian and our prize in sight, rest while you can for the fight will be joined soon.”

Vognar resolved to keep his breakfast and tried to rest over the next few days of arduous sea travel.

The dangerous travel was worth it however, for the boat of Ulfen raiders passed thru the Mordant Spire safely to a bay just north of Mierani Forest (pronounced meer-AWN-ee), tall hills covered in trees. A mixture of huge deciduous and coniferous dark wood trees that stood as tall as ten long boats, that loomed like giants above the mist. Vognar remembered his fathers’ stories of Mierani forest, and its capital city of Celwynvian, was once an ancient home to the elves, now abandoned with lost treasures to be claimed by anyone brave enough. However the elves did not leave their forest completely abandoned, or unprotected, some elves remained, a small hold out of towns and villages like Crying Leaf, which they hoped to avoid at all costs.

Ingimundrs’ men readied armor and weapons while the archers on board loosed fiery arrows to judge distance to the shore. The grizzled salt and pepper bearded war leader stood at the bow, calling to Gorum, until land was spotted.

Making land fall quickly the ship was moored on the dark sandy shores of the bay, as soon as the main line of the boat was tethered to the rocks his men sprung into action. Horses where mounted and led from the boat to the shallow waters and up to the banks to graze, while other gear was unloaded last, and when final preparations were completed the raiding party assembled to venture into the immense foliage.


Far on the north side of the bay a single stalker watched the invaders from the safety of a tall tree, bow drawn and arrow notched, his chiseled lithe features hidden beneath a earth toned cloak, the dark eyes of the scout counted numbers, strengths and laughed to himself quietly.

“Fools you will perish here in our lands for your incursion, and beg for death before the end” the stalker finished his calculations and leapt from his tree perch landing in a roll, the scout was off and running like a shadow of the forest, before the leaves could rustle from his landing.

Vognar on the run

The runners’ ragged breathes where labored, his heart beating, so hard that he felt as if it would burst through his ribs. Trudging the icy fog clogged fens, which filled his lungs so that it burned to inhale the frigid air. The sweat mingled with blood on his face was flash frozen to him. Wearing a simple cotton shirt wet, now stiffly stuck to his chest, from falling in shallow freezing puddles during the previous day. Worn dirty leather breeches where torn in several places from briars and branches that gouged at his thighs as he sprinted strait through them in his flight. His feet had gone numb sometime the night before; he hardly felt them and the only sound apart from the rhythmic rattle of the manacle chains he wore were his own ragged breaths.

A howl could be heard behind him in the distance, Vognar didn’t turn to look he just ran on, it felt as if he had been running for months but really only over four days of the frozen taiga and marshlands of the Linnorm Kings had he fled from his pursuers.

Outcast and criminal was what they called him. Hunted for his head, not worthy to be brought to justice, alive they did not bother to brand him; instead they chained him like an animal, but underestimated his will to survive and his great strength. The guards’ neck made a popping noise like a tree branch being snapped wrapped in a rug and in an instant he was dead. Much easier than he thought it would be.

‘Demons take him for not having the key to my chains.’ He bemoaned his rotten luck. ‘What jailor does not have the key to his prisoner?’

He wanted to feel bad about the guards death, but didn’t, the man was a drunken bully and a lout and deserved his fate. Contemplating his current situation Vognar felt his face go flush with anger at the thought of being a branded as a criminal. “What did I do to deserve this? NOTHING that my people had not been doing for thousands of years.” The difference he thought is that he was honest about it and not ashamed, it was inconvenient and now he was to be made and example of.

They will not grind me to dust and I will make a name for myself so loud that my kinsmen will here of my deeds some day they will need me and I will answer with death call for them all. So he ran on...