A Chronicle of Ice, Luck and Honour - updated 19th December
Hairy Minotaur
Explorer
Did you get stuck in a glue trap, and can't update?
I'm considering doing 2 updates this week just to have someting to read over the weekend.
I'm considering doing 2 updates this week just to have someting to read over the weekend.
Spider_Jerusalem
Explorer
“I should never have helped you”
Thalin's uneasy mind slipped into fitful sleep, his thoughts a whirl of doubts and fears.
The temple of Oghma stood silent. A thick blanket of nothing. It was as if the stones themselves had caught their breath. As the darkness through the windows began to be etched with the beginnings of a new day, a solitary brother crept across to the frostwood doors and carefully unlatched the minor access door after checking his movements weren't being watched. Drawing a heavy hood about him, brother Jessall winced in the unforgiving cold and quickly pulled the door closed again with a soft thump.
He looked about for a moment. Ilinvur never sleeping was something of a joke, but with the business of the keep, the streets had a ragged populace to them. Jessall seemed to falter before walking, but then strode purposefully towards the keep.
Torious woke to the sound of a baby wailing. His eyes flickered to the thin window directly above him and noted the sliver of early morning light. Dawn was some time off yet. He swung his legs to the edge of the bed and forced back the sudden ache of his whole body. He gingerly traced the scar holes with his fingers before splashing water to his face and dressing.
Torious halted at the door to the main hall. A number of brothers clustered about a frail old woman, in whose arms a messy bundle wriggled and screamed. Milo knocked into the back of the Aasimar's legs, vigorously rubbing sleep sand from his eyes.
“What did I miss? Why is there a child?” babbled Milo, “is it an oprhan? Is it a king?”
“Milo,” replied Torious, “Shush.”
Milo rolled his eyes and padded towards the circle of brothers. The old woman was clutching the child tight, her face hung low in a tangle of gray hair. The baby writhed again, then locked eyes with Milo. The halfling's face lit up like a tourney firework display. In a swift movement, the old woman shed like a skin to the floor and the baby folded inwards till all that was left was a weasel in a waistcoat. Mikka stood up abruptly and shook Milo's hand, Isplit darting down the tiefling's arm and up his owner's.
“Thank the gods Milo! There you are at last. You have no idea how many places I've had to do this in,” grinned Mikka, “though why on Toril are you in a library?”
Robar offered Jessall a chair, but the brother shook his head.
“As you like,” shrugged Robar, his voice coarse from a sleepless night, “what do you have?”
“We have them, in the temple.”
Robar leaned forward over the desk and grinned like a maniac as he stooped over the candle, “they are precisely the words I wanted to hear”
“Will they be harmed?” asked Jessall
“What do you care? They aren't your concern anymore,” growled Robar as he eased into the beginnings of his red plate mail.
“That's true...” answered Jessall as he searched for the words, “but they have claimed Sanctuary”
Robar stopped plating up and sneered at Jessall through a loop of cured leather, “no number of godly blessings can stop me roasting those bastards alive. Now, make yourself of use and call my captains.”
“I'm no longer your guardsman Robar.”
“Yet you do well enough to turn them in Jessall. I always knew you couldn't give up the sword for scripture.”
Jessall clenched his hands together in fury, “do not speak of that!”
Robar yanked a crimson shoulder plate tight and looked at the brother with a hollow face, “we all have second thoughts brother. When the lust for glory takes you again there will be a sword and steed ready. Kossuth consumes all in the end.”
Jessall shook his head, “I should never have helped you”
“Nonsense.”
Robar buckled his scabbard to his side. In a fluid arc Robar drew his sword and fed it into Jessall's stomach. Robar pushed again till the hilt touched the brother's skin. Jessall didn't make a sound and was dead before Robar had a chance to gloat over some last words. He let the body slide from blade with a satisfying thump.
“Pulgrath!” hollered Robar as he called for his head guardsman.
Pulgrath bustled through a door and did his best not to look shocked at the priest on the floor. Robar gave a final narcissistic brush of his hair in the mirror before stepping over Jessall and addressing Pulgrath, “bring me thirty men. All with swords, torches and fuel. If they are asleep then wake them up. This will all be over before we leave westwards.”
“As you say sir,” answered Pulgrath, “looks like we found 'em then?”
“Yes. Kossuth will drink deep on the blood of the unworthy today.”
Torious explained again. Mikka was a friend, sort of, and had been looking for them. It was great that he had found them again, but the brothers were quite right, impersonating a old hag and a newborn baby was inexcusable. Torious often wondered if Mikka was counting his sins for when his god found him. The little bastard's probably counting on some Waterdeep lawyer.
Behind Torious's pleas for order, Milo and Mikka were engaged in a furious flashback of their time apart. Isplit pranced about between the two halfmen and re-enacted the interrogation scene a number of times.
Thalin woke and his mind felt brilliantly alive. His eyes opened and the sight of Dariel perched on the window ledge filled his body with joy. Dariel fluttered into Thalin's embrace and the mage's arm was forgotten for a few moments.
The Bear sectioned the men into squads and gave orders. Robar crossed his arms as he watched and felt the cold sting all over his body. He could see the spire of Oghma already, its blank scroll crying to be fed to forge of Kossuth. The Bear unlatched his huge warhammer and let the crackle of its power underline any particular points of the plan. Twenty men had been available. The rest had duties loading the cargo train.
A final call was made and the men moved quickly to surround the temple, the soft chink of their chainmail sending the early morning businesses back to where they came from.
Robar watched with glee as the torches of the guardsmen were lit in unison.
Milo giggled again, knocking his elbow against the shinguard of Torious so he could share the joke. Torious didn't respond and eventually the halfling looked up at his companion. Torious was still, his face strained in concentration.
Milo had half a seconds comprehension before Torious screamed, “Robar is here! Defend yourselves!”
The brothers looked dumbfounded, then a blazing torch shattered through the great stained glass window and arched into the great hall. With impressive reflexes Torious shot his hand out and caught the burning brand mid air. The thick crackle of oil mingled suddenly with the rush of shouts outside. Torious distinguished the brutal growl of The Bear and the maddening laugh of Robar. Torious's scars flared, his cheeks spattering celestial blood onto the flagstones of the temple.
Thalin burst into the hall, Dariel hovering above. Milo leapt onto a table and waved a candelabra for all his worth. Torious checked the situation. No spellbook for Thalin, no weapons for himself and Milo. This could go badly.
With a cacophony of shattering glass, a rain of oil and fire flew into the temple from all sides.
Thalin's uneasy mind slipped into fitful sleep, his thoughts a whirl of doubts and fears.
- - - - - - - - - -
The temple of Oghma stood silent. A thick blanket of nothing. It was as if the stones themselves had caught their breath. As the darkness through the windows began to be etched with the beginnings of a new day, a solitary brother crept across to the frostwood doors and carefully unlatched the minor access door after checking his movements weren't being watched. Drawing a heavy hood about him, brother Jessall winced in the unforgiving cold and quickly pulled the door closed again with a soft thump.
He looked about for a moment. Ilinvur never sleeping was something of a joke, but with the business of the keep, the streets had a ragged populace to them. Jessall seemed to falter before walking, but then strode purposefully towards the keep.
- - - - - - - - - -
Torious woke to the sound of a baby wailing. His eyes flickered to the thin window directly above him and noted the sliver of early morning light. Dawn was some time off yet. He swung his legs to the edge of the bed and forced back the sudden ache of his whole body. He gingerly traced the scar holes with his fingers before splashing water to his face and dressing.
Torious halted at the door to the main hall. A number of brothers clustered about a frail old woman, in whose arms a messy bundle wriggled and screamed. Milo knocked into the back of the Aasimar's legs, vigorously rubbing sleep sand from his eyes.
“What did I miss? Why is there a child?” babbled Milo, “is it an oprhan? Is it a king?”
“Milo,” replied Torious, “Shush.”
Milo rolled his eyes and padded towards the circle of brothers. The old woman was clutching the child tight, her face hung low in a tangle of gray hair. The baby writhed again, then locked eyes with Milo. The halfling's face lit up like a tourney firework display. In a swift movement, the old woman shed like a skin to the floor and the baby folded inwards till all that was left was a weasel in a waistcoat. Mikka stood up abruptly and shook Milo's hand, Isplit darting down the tiefling's arm and up his owner's.
“Thank the gods Milo! There you are at last. You have no idea how many places I've had to do this in,” grinned Mikka, “though why on Toril are you in a library?”
- - - - - - - - - -
Robar offered Jessall a chair, but the brother shook his head.
“As you like,” shrugged Robar, his voice coarse from a sleepless night, “what do you have?”
“We have them, in the temple.”
Robar leaned forward over the desk and grinned like a maniac as he stooped over the candle, “they are precisely the words I wanted to hear”
“Will they be harmed?” asked Jessall
“What do you care? They aren't your concern anymore,” growled Robar as he eased into the beginnings of his red plate mail.
“That's true...” answered Jessall as he searched for the words, “but they have claimed Sanctuary”
Robar stopped plating up and sneered at Jessall through a loop of cured leather, “no number of godly blessings can stop me roasting those bastards alive. Now, make yourself of use and call my captains.”
“I'm no longer your guardsman Robar.”
“Yet you do well enough to turn them in Jessall. I always knew you couldn't give up the sword for scripture.”
Jessall clenched his hands together in fury, “do not speak of that!”
Robar yanked a crimson shoulder plate tight and looked at the brother with a hollow face, “we all have second thoughts brother. When the lust for glory takes you again there will be a sword and steed ready. Kossuth consumes all in the end.”
Jessall shook his head, “I should never have helped you”
“Nonsense.”
Robar buckled his scabbard to his side. In a fluid arc Robar drew his sword and fed it into Jessall's stomach. Robar pushed again till the hilt touched the brother's skin. Jessall didn't make a sound and was dead before Robar had a chance to gloat over some last words. He let the body slide from blade with a satisfying thump.
“Pulgrath!” hollered Robar as he called for his head guardsman.
Pulgrath bustled through a door and did his best not to look shocked at the priest on the floor. Robar gave a final narcissistic brush of his hair in the mirror before stepping over Jessall and addressing Pulgrath, “bring me thirty men. All with swords, torches and fuel. If they are asleep then wake them up. This will all be over before we leave westwards.”
“As you say sir,” answered Pulgrath, “looks like we found 'em then?”
“Yes. Kossuth will drink deep on the blood of the unworthy today.”
- - - - - - - - - -
Torious explained again. Mikka was a friend, sort of, and had been looking for them. It was great that he had found them again, but the brothers were quite right, impersonating a old hag and a newborn baby was inexcusable. Torious often wondered if Mikka was counting his sins for when his god found him. The little bastard's probably counting on some Waterdeep lawyer.
Behind Torious's pleas for order, Milo and Mikka were engaged in a furious flashback of their time apart. Isplit pranced about between the two halfmen and re-enacted the interrogation scene a number of times.
Thalin woke and his mind felt brilliantly alive. His eyes opened and the sight of Dariel perched on the window ledge filled his body with joy. Dariel fluttered into Thalin's embrace and the mage's arm was forgotten for a few moments.
- - - - - - - - - -
The Bear sectioned the men into squads and gave orders. Robar crossed his arms as he watched and felt the cold sting all over his body. He could see the spire of Oghma already, its blank scroll crying to be fed to forge of Kossuth. The Bear unlatched his huge warhammer and let the crackle of its power underline any particular points of the plan. Twenty men had been available. The rest had duties loading the cargo train.
A final call was made and the men moved quickly to surround the temple, the soft chink of their chainmail sending the early morning businesses back to where they came from.
Robar watched with glee as the torches of the guardsmen were lit in unison.
- - - - - - - - - -
Milo giggled again, knocking his elbow against the shinguard of Torious so he could share the joke. Torious didn't respond and eventually the halfling looked up at his companion. Torious was still, his face strained in concentration.
Milo had half a seconds comprehension before Torious screamed, “Robar is here! Defend yourselves!”
The brothers looked dumbfounded, then a blazing torch shattered through the great stained glass window and arched into the great hall. With impressive reflexes Torious shot his hand out and caught the burning brand mid air. The thick crackle of oil mingled suddenly with the rush of shouts outside. Torious distinguished the brutal growl of The Bear and the maddening laugh of Robar. Torious's scars flared, his cheeks spattering celestial blood onto the flagstones of the temple.
Thalin burst into the hall, Dariel hovering above. Milo leapt onto a table and waved a candelabra for all his worth. Torious checked the situation. No spellbook for Thalin, no weapons for himself and Milo. This could go badly.
With a cacophony of shattering glass, a rain of oil and fire flew into the temple from all sides.
Last edited:
Spider_Jerusalem
Explorer
Hi guys,
Thank you all for your persistence!
Yes I'm late with the update. Apologies, but due to size of the events, it does mean that there is a final post left in this chapter still to come.
Anyway, hope this sates your desires for the meanwhile. Next update will be soaring in oh so soon.
Spider J
Thank you all for your persistence!
Yes I'm late with the update. Apologies, but due to size of the events, it does mean that there is a final post left in this chapter still to come.
Anyway, hope this sates your desires for the meanwhile. Next update will be soaring in oh so soon.
Spider J
Spider_Jerusalem
Explorer
brellin said:
Thanks buddy. Next update is hot on the heels of this one, so looks like tomorrow for the final installment of chapter 12!
After that.... well, that would be telling.
See y'all tomorrow.
Spider.
