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Story Hour
Of Fey and Shadow - A Midnight story hour (Restored 14 May 2006)
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<blockquote data-quote="Emiricol" data-source="post: 1979943" data-attributes="member: 469"><p>Thrayn, Carith, Dornhild and Rongald completed finally the task of disposing of the invaders' bodies, being sure to retrieve their tusks - two Oruk and ten Orc - as well as some 10 salvageable javelins and all six of their Vardaches. Being late, they encamped for the night not only because setting out in the morning would be far easier, but also in case other Orcs had trailed this first team. However, the night passed uneventfully, and in the morning Thrayn sat, clear eyed, as the others one by one awoke.</p><p></p><p>Dornhild shook the frost from his beard and grunted. The meaning of this particular grunt soon became clear as he prepared a breakfast that included some berries he had picked the eve before.</p><p></p><p>Once the camp was struck and signs of their passing covered well, they began the long journey.</p><p></p><p>Carith gathered up his belongs quickly and moved up to the front of the small party. He began to pick a trail through the woods, heading east towards the edge of the wood. <em>Odd that a symbol of an orc clan long dead could invoke such ire in him. That Elf is certainly a strange man.</em> </p><p></p><p>After nearly half an hour of walking Carith called back to the others, <span style="color: yellow">"Exiting the woods will be difficult, to say the least, and from there things only get worse. We should at least try and think of some sort of plan, unless you really want to fight your way through a battalion of orcs to get to this village."</span></p><p></p><p>After a short while it became clear that Carith was not as familiar with the Veradeen woods as Thrayn had hoped. Near the rear, leading the horse, Thrayn whispered to Bornhild, <span style="color: yellow">"You know this place he spoke of?"</span> He nodded toward Carith carefully as he said this.</p><p></p><p>Bornhild looked uneasily at the elf, and said with trepidation, <span style="color: yellow">"Aye. I know it. It lies North from here. Quite near the Plains of Aris Aman in truth."</span></p><p></p><p>Thrayn shook his head. A long journey, and dangerous. The legate may well have been gone from there for some time by the time they arrived, but they wouldn't arrive at all if they continued South into the Caraheen. <span style="color: yellow">"The path we take will lead only to certain death. From here we turn North. We will remain in these woods for as long as we can before turning east to find this village. I am not willing to throw away my life for the sake of speeding toward it's end. You would do well to follow me."</span></p><p><span style="color: yellow"></span></p><p><span style="color: yellow">"These are the woods of your birth master Elf, I am but a guest. Of course I will follow your lead."</span>, Carith said calmly. He stopped, then, and waited for the Elf and the other Men to pass him buy as they changed directions.</p><p></p><p><span style="color: yellow">"We will have to be careful not to veer west or east by too much over the next few days, lest we be either delayed on our journey or risk exposure to the Orcs, respectively. It will be weeks and risky, regardless, so let us not tempt fates."</span> Thrayn said this without implication, it seemed - just a statement. </p><p></p><p>Dornhild, leading the way, nodded but said nothing further. <em>These Elves are not as deceiptful as the legends say. Either that or this particular Elf is just not so vile. That must be it. You don't just ignore generations of wisdom, Dornhild. Stay alert, even once he earns your trust.</em> Dornhild nodded then, satisfied at the resolution he had come to in his simple, direct way, and quickened his pace.</p><p></p><p>-----------------------------</p><p></p><p>As they travelled north they made decent enough time, crossing some ten or so miles per day through the forest. They hunted regularly for rabbits as well as gathering fruits and berries as they went, the forest of the Fey providing food even as Winter dragged on. Occasionally, Thrayn would enter an Elven village alone to trade for rations, which saw them through those days when no amount of searching brought fresh food for the weary travelers. His trips were always quick, and he never spoke of the reasons to the Men he traveled with.</p><p></p><p>It was after two weeks of this that Dornhild one morning spoke again. This had become increasingly rare as they continued their journey, but Rongald assured Thrayn it was inconsequential. When Dornhild did finally speak, it was in his usual soft-spoken but deep voice, and brief as always. <span style="color: yellow">"We should turn east now. The Plains of Eris Aman will be well enough south of us when we reach the treeline for safe travel."</span></p><p></p><p>Rongald looked to Thrayn, and to Carith whom he had come to know and respect, if not fully understand, over the past two weeks. <span style="color: yellow">"Master Thrayn, the Norther speaks truth as best I can measure."</span></p><p></p><p>Dornhild nodded and continued, <span style="color: yellow">"We are but a week to tenday from the village from master Carith's vision."</span></p><p></p><p>Thrayn could not be certain but, felt that the Northman enjoyed the irony. A Human telling the Elf Sorcerer of a vision was not an everyday thing. Still, Dornhild gave no outward sign of this. Perhaps it was his imagination. <em>Men are such confusing, frantic creatures. It is hard to even begin to understand one before they turn to dust.</em> He shook his head free of such thoughts.</p><p></p><p>And so that day they turned East, travelling hard, and by the second evening of this they had come to within a day of the forest's edge. Into the disputed border region, the Green Line. </p><p></p><p>From here out, Orcs and worse raided into the woods constantly, just as Elf warbands raided outwards. It was a conflict that had gone on for two thousand years. Every Elf knew that such fighting had been raging since the first Orcs arrived in the northlands, of the Shunned Mother tribe - and they had been fighting the Orcs of that tribe ever since. Nothing drew the hatred of an Elf like an orc wearing tatoos of black bars across its eyes, cheeks and chest - the mark of a warrior of the Shunned Mothers.</p><p></p><p>Dornhild set about to hunt up whatever fresh food could be found while Rongald first cared for the packhorse, then lit a careful fire for cooking and heat through the cold night that was soon to fall upon them.</p><p></p><p>Thrayn had been restless since they had set off from the Glen. <em>Who would have imagined that one Elf could have caused so much death in the lives of a deathless people.</em> Thrayn bristled again at the thought. His skin itched with the urge to keep moving, but the Humans needed sleep. Oh, to be with others of his kind, but he carried the stigma of those deaths. It was hard not to be suspicious in these days when evil from legend roamed freely on the Earth. He had been there and he had lived. And not just once. How he longed to have died at their side. <em>This cruel mockery, to live on, possibly forever, but never ridding myself of their voices, their faces, their cries...</em></p><p></p><p>Aggitated, he lept up from his seat, startling Rongald and Bornhild. <span style="color: yellow">"I...I need to be away from this fire, it strains my eyes in this dying light."</span> He turned and walked into the dusk just out of sight of the camp. Sights of other fires, some years past, followed him.</p><p></p><p>Rongald watched Thrayn retreat from the gathering, expression inscrutable. Dornhild frowned, however, and muttered under his breath about the dangers of trusting Fey - particularly Elves.</p><p></p><p>-----------------------------</p><p></p><p>Carith had dropped his pack to the ground and was sitting down next to the fire, pulling his cloak tight and, with a whistle, he sent Whisper flying off into the woods. He gazed into the fire for several long moments before he spoke. <span style="color: yellow">"I am going to scout around. for the next hour or so I won't be responsive here as my mind will be elsewhere. Just leave me be and I will be fine when I return."</span> After receiving a measured and cautious nod from Rongald, Carith set his head back against a tree, and in a short while, his eyes glazed until they were solid silver in sheen, just like the eyes of the hawk he travelled with, and now, inside of.</p><p></p><p>As Carith settled into his trance-like state, Dornhild shuddered. Speaking to Rongald he grumbled, <span style="color: yellow">"So unnatural is that man's stare that I feel as though looking upon a dead man. The light of his eyes has been hidden, the spark of his soul gone elsewhere."</span></p><p></p><p>Rongald nodded slightly. <span style="color: yellow">"Master Thrayn has on occasion meditated, and the crawl of the skin upon my back has never lessened, despite my many weeks of familiarity with his ways. I can tell you that master Carith is not in this body, for it is a shell he travels in rather than the man's essence, as it is with you and I."</span></p><p></p><p>Dornhild grunted, saying nothing as he tried to avoid glancing at the still form of Carith.</p><p></p><p>------------------------------</p><p></p><p>The winds were chill, as it was still Winter, ableit the tail end of it. Above the forest, updrafts from the lingering warmth of the woods made flight easy. An image came to him then; a mouse scurrying across the forest floor, and feelings of hunger.</p><p></p><p><em>No, my friend. Now is not time for mice, no matter how delicious. We have a task before us, and we must focus our attentions.</em></p><p></p><p>The reply was far from friendly, but at least this time there were no images of the bird clawing out the eyes of the sleeping Carith. Those were unsettling, and though Carith knew the bird would never betray the bond they shared in such a way, knew that it was merely the humor of a raptor, it still made him uneasy. Which always made the bird laugh - or the raptor equivalent. It "felt" to Carith remarkably similar to the "feeling" he received when his companion made a kill of some rodent.</p><p></p><p>It was only a quarter hour before the two, in the bird's body, left the treeline of the forest and into the lands of the Northmen. Below, a small group of orcs were finishing mutilating some Human guerillas and started heading back east - towards their own lines. <em>More of the same,</em> he thought somberly.</p><p></p><p>This far north the battle lines did not really exist as such. Rather, it was more a region of inter-penetration, wherein small groups of Men, Elf and Orc raided each other continuously. As it had been for two millenia, since the Orcs first arrived in the northern mountains.</p><p></p><p>The bird felt Sad, but Carith knew this was just part of the drama. <em>Someday it will end, but not today.</em></p><p></p><p>Onward he flew, catching updrafts where he could and flapping where he must. As the air cooled with evening, the updrafts grew less frequent until they went away entirely, and then it was a matter of dodging the downdrafts of falling, colder air.</p><p></p><p>There - the rock of his vision. A feeling of dread. It really did seem to rise from the low, rolling terrain like a red collumn, flat on top with some hasty defensive measures. Probably a place of final retreat for the villagers. Ah, the villagers. The village was small and walled. How Men would get from the village to the rock at the end of a nasty fight was not clear.</p><p></p><p>Beyond the gates of the village, a pole, upon which was impaled a Man in tattered, rent armor that bore the red claw/green orb coat of arms. Some distance away, a burning pyre of Orc corpses was left unattended. This night, the village was closed up tight.</p><p></p><p>So far, all well. A journey of a mere hour an a half of hard flight; it would take Carith days on the ground to get to this place. Time to fly back, lest some danger befall his unattended body.</p><p></p><p>Boredom overtook the man and bird alike, for they passed over familiar terrain. The corpses of the men from the earlier ambush, he discovered as he returned to the lands of the Fey, had been decapitated.</p><p></p><p><em>Good, they will not Rise.</em></p><p></p><p>When he was close to the camp of his companion that thought was immediately cut short as he spotted movement a mere few hundred feet from the fire. Circling once, twice. What was it? There - a clearing in the canopy revealed the source of the movement with utter clarity. Two men with maces, crawling towards the unsuspecting encampment.</p><p></p><p>Carith urged the bird's body forward, nearly diving at his unattended shell, and once the course was set, severed the connection. With a jolt strong as that of hammer upon anvil he felt himself fall forcefully into his body, for a second unable to speak due to the shock of the rapid transferrance, but coming to his senses was a matter of moments, barely enough to slow him down.</p><p></p><p><em>Danger...</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Emiricol, post: 1979943, member: 469"] Thrayn, Carith, Dornhild and Rongald completed finally the task of disposing of the invaders' bodies, being sure to retrieve their tusks - two Oruk and ten Orc - as well as some 10 salvageable javelins and all six of their Vardaches. Being late, they encamped for the night not only because setting out in the morning would be far easier, but also in case other Orcs had trailed this first team. However, the night passed uneventfully, and in the morning Thrayn sat, clear eyed, as the others one by one awoke. Dornhild shook the frost from his beard and grunted. The meaning of this particular grunt soon became clear as he prepared a breakfast that included some berries he had picked the eve before. Once the camp was struck and signs of their passing covered well, they began the long journey. Carith gathered up his belongs quickly and moved up to the front of the small party. He began to pick a trail through the woods, heading east towards the edge of the wood. [i]Odd that a symbol of an orc clan long dead could invoke such ire in him. That Elf is certainly a strange man.[/i] After nearly half an hour of walking Carith called back to the others, [color=yellow]"Exiting the woods will be difficult, to say the least, and from there things only get worse. We should at least try and think of some sort of plan, unless you really want to fight your way through a battalion of orcs to get to this village."[/color] After a short while it became clear that Carith was not as familiar with the Veradeen woods as Thrayn had hoped. Near the rear, leading the horse, Thrayn whispered to Bornhild, [color=yellow]"You know this place he spoke of?"[/color] He nodded toward Carith carefully as he said this. Bornhild looked uneasily at the elf, and said with trepidation, [color=yellow]"Aye. I know it. It lies North from here. Quite near the Plains of Aris Aman in truth."[/color] Thrayn shook his head. A long journey, and dangerous. The legate may well have been gone from there for some time by the time they arrived, but they wouldn't arrive at all if they continued South into the Caraheen. [color=yellow]"The path we take will lead only to certain death. From here we turn North. We will remain in these woods for as long as we can before turning east to find this village. I am not willing to throw away my life for the sake of speeding toward it's end. You would do well to follow me." "These are the woods of your birth master Elf, I am but a guest. Of course I will follow your lead."[/color], Carith said calmly. He stopped, then, and waited for the Elf and the other Men to pass him buy as they changed directions. [color=yellow]"We will have to be careful not to veer west or east by too much over the next few days, lest we be either delayed on our journey or risk exposure to the Orcs, respectively. It will be weeks and risky, regardless, so let us not tempt fates."[/color] Thrayn said this without implication, it seemed - just a statement. Dornhild, leading the way, nodded but said nothing further. [i]These Elves are not as deceiptful as the legends say. Either that or this particular Elf is just not so vile. That must be it. You don't just ignore generations of wisdom, Dornhild. Stay alert, even once he earns your trust.[/i] Dornhild nodded then, satisfied at the resolution he had come to in his simple, direct way, and quickened his pace. ----------------------------- As they travelled north they made decent enough time, crossing some ten or so miles per day through the forest. They hunted regularly for rabbits as well as gathering fruits and berries as they went, the forest of the Fey providing food even as Winter dragged on. Occasionally, Thrayn would enter an Elven village alone to trade for rations, which saw them through those days when no amount of searching brought fresh food for the weary travelers. His trips were always quick, and he never spoke of the reasons to the Men he traveled with. It was after two weeks of this that Dornhild one morning spoke again. This had become increasingly rare as they continued their journey, but Rongald assured Thrayn it was inconsequential. When Dornhild did finally speak, it was in his usual soft-spoken but deep voice, and brief as always. [color=yellow]"We should turn east now. The Plains of Eris Aman will be well enough south of us when we reach the treeline for safe travel."[/color] Rongald looked to Thrayn, and to Carith whom he had come to know and respect, if not fully understand, over the past two weeks. [color=yellow]"Master Thrayn, the Norther speaks truth as best I can measure."[/color] Dornhild nodded and continued, [color=yellow]"We are but a week to tenday from the village from master Carith's vision."[/color] Thrayn could not be certain but, felt that the Northman enjoyed the irony. A Human telling the Elf Sorcerer of a vision was not an everyday thing. Still, Dornhild gave no outward sign of this. Perhaps it was his imagination. [i]Men are such confusing, frantic creatures. It is hard to even begin to understand one before they turn to dust.[/i] He shook his head free of such thoughts. And so that day they turned East, travelling hard, and by the second evening of this they had come to within a day of the forest's edge. Into the disputed border region, the Green Line. From here out, Orcs and worse raided into the woods constantly, just as Elf warbands raided outwards. It was a conflict that had gone on for two thousand years. Every Elf knew that such fighting had been raging since the first Orcs arrived in the northlands, of the Shunned Mother tribe - and they had been fighting the Orcs of that tribe ever since. Nothing drew the hatred of an Elf like an orc wearing tatoos of black bars across its eyes, cheeks and chest - the mark of a warrior of the Shunned Mothers. Dornhild set about to hunt up whatever fresh food could be found while Rongald first cared for the packhorse, then lit a careful fire for cooking and heat through the cold night that was soon to fall upon them. Thrayn had been restless since they had set off from the Glen. [i]Who would have imagined that one Elf could have caused so much death in the lives of a deathless people.[/i] Thrayn bristled again at the thought. His skin itched with the urge to keep moving, but the Humans needed sleep. Oh, to be with others of his kind, but he carried the stigma of those deaths. It was hard not to be suspicious in these days when evil from legend roamed freely on the Earth. He had been there and he had lived. And not just once. How he longed to have died at their side. [i]This cruel mockery, to live on, possibly forever, but never ridding myself of their voices, their faces, their cries...[/i] Aggitated, he lept up from his seat, startling Rongald and Bornhild. [color=yellow]"I...I need to be away from this fire, it strains my eyes in this dying light."[/color] He turned and walked into the dusk just out of sight of the camp. Sights of other fires, some years past, followed him. Rongald watched Thrayn retreat from the gathering, expression inscrutable. Dornhild frowned, however, and muttered under his breath about the dangers of trusting Fey - particularly Elves. ----------------------------- Carith had dropped his pack to the ground and was sitting down next to the fire, pulling his cloak tight and, with a whistle, he sent Whisper flying off into the woods. He gazed into the fire for several long moments before he spoke. [color=yellow]"I am going to scout around. for the next hour or so I won't be responsive here as my mind will be elsewhere. Just leave me be and I will be fine when I return."[/color] After receiving a measured and cautious nod from Rongald, Carith set his head back against a tree, and in a short while, his eyes glazed until they were solid silver in sheen, just like the eyes of the hawk he travelled with, and now, inside of. As Carith settled into his trance-like state, Dornhild shuddered. Speaking to Rongald he grumbled, [color=yellow]"So unnatural is that man's stare that I feel as though looking upon a dead man. The light of his eyes has been hidden, the spark of his soul gone elsewhere."[/color] Rongald nodded slightly. [color=yellow]"Master Thrayn has on occasion meditated, and the crawl of the skin upon my back has never lessened, despite my many weeks of familiarity with his ways. I can tell you that master Carith is not in this body, for it is a shell he travels in rather than the man's essence, as it is with you and I."[/color] Dornhild grunted, saying nothing as he tried to avoid glancing at the still form of Carith. ------------------------------ The winds were chill, as it was still Winter, ableit the tail end of it. Above the forest, updrafts from the lingering warmth of the woods made flight easy. An image came to him then; a mouse scurrying across the forest floor, and feelings of hunger. [i]No, my friend. Now is not time for mice, no matter how delicious. We have a task before us, and we must focus our attentions.[/i] The reply was far from friendly, but at least this time there were no images of the bird clawing out the eyes of the sleeping Carith. Those were unsettling, and though Carith knew the bird would never betray the bond they shared in such a way, knew that it was merely the humor of a raptor, it still made him uneasy. Which always made the bird laugh - or the raptor equivalent. It "felt" to Carith remarkably similar to the "feeling" he received when his companion made a kill of some rodent. It was only a quarter hour before the two, in the bird's body, left the treeline of the forest and into the lands of the Northmen. Below, a small group of orcs were finishing mutilating some Human guerillas and started heading back east - towards their own lines. [i]More of the same,[/i] he thought somberly. This far north the battle lines did not really exist as such. Rather, it was more a region of inter-penetration, wherein small groups of Men, Elf and Orc raided each other continuously. As it had been for two millenia, since the Orcs first arrived in the northern mountains. The bird felt Sad, but Carith knew this was just part of the drama. [i]Someday it will end, but not today.[/i] Onward he flew, catching updrafts where he could and flapping where he must. As the air cooled with evening, the updrafts grew less frequent until they went away entirely, and then it was a matter of dodging the downdrafts of falling, colder air. There - the rock of his vision. A feeling of dread. It really did seem to rise from the low, rolling terrain like a red collumn, flat on top with some hasty defensive measures. Probably a place of final retreat for the villagers. Ah, the villagers. The village was small and walled. How Men would get from the village to the rock at the end of a nasty fight was not clear. Beyond the gates of the village, a pole, upon which was impaled a Man in tattered, rent armor that bore the red claw/green orb coat of arms. Some distance away, a burning pyre of Orc corpses was left unattended. This night, the village was closed up tight. So far, all well. A journey of a mere hour an a half of hard flight; it would take Carith days on the ground to get to this place. Time to fly back, lest some danger befall his unattended body. Boredom overtook the man and bird alike, for they passed over familiar terrain. The corpses of the men from the earlier ambush, he discovered as he returned to the lands of the Fey, had been decapitated. [i]Good, they will not Rise.[/i] When he was close to the camp of his companion that thought was immediately cut short as he spotted movement a mere few hundred feet from the fire. Circling once, twice. What was it? There - a clearing in the canopy revealed the source of the movement with utter clarity. Two men with maces, crawling towards the unsuspecting encampment. Carith urged the bird's body forward, nearly diving at his unattended shell, and once the course was set, severed the connection. With a jolt strong as that of hammer upon anvil he felt himself fall forcefully into his body, for a second unable to speak due to the shock of the rapid transferrance, but coming to his senses was a matter of moments, barely enough to slow him down. [i]Danger...[/i] [/QUOTE]
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Of Fey and Shadow - A Midnight story hour (Restored 14 May 2006)
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