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"An Icy Grave" : A Tale of Two Brothers
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<blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 310395" data-attributes="member: 2323"><p><strong>Part 16: Sleep Tight</strong></p><p></p><p>Frustrated, Malak tossed down the clothing that he'd been looking through and turned back to his brother.</p><p>"Nothin'!" the cleric huffed. "There be naught 'ere ta explain tha presence o' this creature we fought."</p><p>"Nae explanation, perhaps. But we might be learnin' a bit o' how it moves about," Karak replied. He hauled himself across the room to the fireplace and kicked at the snow with his boot. As he had suspected, he could see the grate-covered shaft set back in the hearth that lead downward to the furnace far below. "Think ye that mayhap tha beastie is able ta enter through tha vents o' tha fireplace?"</p><p>"I dunno, chalak," the Battleguard replied with a weary shake of his head. "There's nothin' o' this creature what is sure 'ceptin' that it's a cold-blooded killer."</p><p>"Aye," Karak nodded. "But if'n he be able ta move through tha vents, then I wonder if'n he'll be returnin' via tha front gate or nae."</p><p>"Meanin' that tha front hall is as safe a place as any ta bed down?" Malak asked and Karak nodded, tapping his nose with his forefinger.</p><p>"Ye got it, chalak," he said, "Right on tha nose. I say we wait out tha night an' tha storm an' head on our way ta deliver tha King's message come mornin'."</p><p>"I second that," Malak agreed. He started for the door saying, "We'll sleep tha night in shifts and-"</p><p>"Hold up a moment 'ere," his brother said, looking up at the light crossbow hanging above the fireplace. He peered closely at the dwarven runes inscribed on the weapon's stock and plucked once at its taut bowstring. "Hmm, this crossbow seems ta be very finely made, by dwarves o' course. I wonder if'n these bolts be magical?"</p><p>He picked up the leather quiver that rested on the mantle and showed them to Malak.</p><p>"These ten 'ere," he said. "Well what say ye?"</p><p>"I dunno, chalak," his brother said again. "I know little o' enchanted arrows."</p><p>"Did tha faerie clerics teach ye how ta shoot or just sing songs?" Karak grumbled and the Battleguard shot him a menacing look.</p><p>"I'd be holdin' me tongue were I ye," Malak said. "Twasn't me what mother always said cou' chant like Vergadain hisself, I'll be remindin' ye!"</p><p>Karak scowled and lowered his head.</p><p>"Dinna be bringin' mother into this," he grumbled and grabbed both the crossbow and quiver. "I'll carry these."</p><p></p><p>Marglos, the 17th or Rethe, 1269 AE</p><p></p><p>Malak took first watch, and he tended the fire and meditated on Shaharizod to keep himself awake while his brother snored beside him. The sun was not yet up when he woke Karak and changed places with him. The warrior donned his armor and began fiddling with the crossbow to keep himself awake.</p><p>It didn't work very well to stave off slumber, and he was awakened sometime later by an icy cold wind blowing through the front door as it opened and shut quickly and quietly. In the brief moment that the door was opened, he could see that it was full daylight outside and that the snow still fell in buckets full. Karak, who sat facing the door across their makeshift bonfire, watched as a shaggy, snow-covered shape stood stealthily by the front door, surveying the dwarves' campsite. The warrior pretended for the moment to still be asleep at his post, and peered at the figure through his bushy eyebrows.</p><p>It was man-sized and man-shaped, with long black hair and beard both crusted over with snow and ice. Its face above the beard was darkened by lengthy exposure to the sun. It was dressed in pelts of various types sewn together with sinew. Bone ornaments were strung on a thong about its neck.</p><p>It sniffed at the air and began to creep quietly toward them.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Jon Potter, post: 310395, member: 2323"] [b]Part 16: Sleep Tight[/b] Frustrated, Malak tossed down the clothing that he'd been looking through and turned back to his brother. "Nothin'!" the cleric huffed. "There be naught 'ere ta explain tha presence o' this creature we fought." "Nae explanation, perhaps. But we might be learnin' a bit o' how it moves about," Karak replied. He hauled himself across the room to the fireplace and kicked at the snow with his boot. As he had suspected, he could see the grate-covered shaft set back in the hearth that lead downward to the furnace far below. "Think ye that mayhap tha beastie is able ta enter through tha vents o' tha fireplace?" "I dunno, chalak," the Battleguard replied with a weary shake of his head. "There's nothin' o' this creature what is sure 'ceptin' that it's a cold-blooded killer." "Aye," Karak nodded. "But if'n he be able ta move through tha vents, then I wonder if'n he'll be returnin' via tha front gate or nae." "Meanin' that tha front hall is as safe a place as any ta bed down?" Malak asked and Karak nodded, tapping his nose with his forefinger. "Ye got it, chalak," he said, "Right on tha nose. I say we wait out tha night an' tha storm an' head on our way ta deliver tha King's message come mornin'." "I second that," Malak agreed. He started for the door saying, "We'll sleep tha night in shifts and-" "Hold up a moment 'ere," his brother said, looking up at the light crossbow hanging above the fireplace. He peered closely at the dwarven runes inscribed on the weapon's stock and plucked once at its taut bowstring. "Hmm, this crossbow seems ta be very finely made, by dwarves o' course. I wonder if'n these bolts be magical?" He picked up the leather quiver that rested on the mantle and showed them to Malak. "These ten 'ere," he said. "Well what say ye?" "I dunno, chalak," his brother said again. "I know little o' enchanted arrows." "Did tha faerie clerics teach ye how ta shoot or just sing songs?" Karak grumbled and the Battleguard shot him a menacing look. "I'd be holdin' me tongue were I ye," Malak said. "Twasn't me what mother always said cou' chant like Vergadain hisself, I'll be remindin' ye!" Karak scowled and lowered his head. "Dinna be bringin' mother into this," he grumbled and grabbed both the crossbow and quiver. "I'll carry these." Marglos, the 17th or Rethe, 1269 AE Malak took first watch, and he tended the fire and meditated on Shaharizod to keep himself awake while his brother snored beside him. The sun was not yet up when he woke Karak and changed places with him. The warrior donned his armor and began fiddling with the crossbow to keep himself awake. It didn't work very well to stave off slumber, and he was awakened sometime later by an icy cold wind blowing through the front door as it opened and shut quickly and quietly. In the brief moment that the door was opened, he could see that it was full daylight outside and that the snow still fell in buckets full. Karak, who sat facing the door across their makeshift bonfire, watched as a shaggy, snow-covered shape stood stealthily by the front door, surveying the dwarves' campsite. The warrior pretended for the moment to still be asleep at his post, and peered at the figure through his bushy eyebrows. It was man-sized and man-shaped, with long black hair and beard both crusted over with snow and ice. Its face above the beard was darkened by lengthy exposure to the sun. It was dressed in pelts of various types sewn together with sinew. Bone ornaments were strung on a thong about its neck. It sniffed at the air and began to creep quietly toward them. [/QUOTE]
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