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"An Icy Grave" : A Tale of Two Brothers
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<blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 312207" data-attributes="member: 2323"><p><strong>Part 17: Meet the Neighbors</strong></p><p></p><p>The shaggy man crept toward the dwarves' campsite, his eyes darting from the two dwarven forms to the archways leading out of the room to the mangled goat corpse to the stairs up and back again in a constant cycle. His head twitched nervously as the fire popped and he seemed ready to flee at the slightest provocation. His eyes - which were a shade of blue that verged on white - seemed wild as they peered about in the semi-darkness.</p><p>He approached Malak, who was nearer the door than Karak, and hovered near the sleeping dwarf. He studied him intently, and Karak saw one mittened hand slip beneath the fur shawl the man wore. Whether he was reaching for a weapon or not, Karak couldn't wait to see.</p><p>He stood up all at once, his armor clattering loudly in the entryway, and the scraggily man fell backwards onto his behind. He began scrambling on the timeworn tile floor, looking fearfully at Karak as he did so.</p><p>"Hold," the dwarf said in the Common tongue, laying a hand on one of the throwing axes tucked into his girdle for emphasis, "before ye make a mistake what'll have ye wishin' yer mother had tha foresight nae ta e'en meet yer father."</p><p>The man stopped moving, and Malak began to stir. The Battleguard peered wearily up at his brother through one squinting eye.</p><p>"We've a visitor, me chalak," the warrior told his brother and angled his chin at the man.</p><p>The cleric rolled over, looked at the man and got hastily to his feet.</p><p>"Who are ye?" he asked with a scowl.</p><p>"Who are you?" the man responded his head cocked back so that he looked at them down the length of his face. His nostrils flared rhythmically.</p><p>"I am Malak, son o' Kignar, faithful Battleguard o' Shaharizod. I journey south with a message from me king," Malak said.</p><p>"And I am Karak, son o' Kignar, loyal warrior o' clan Stoutgut. I journey with me brother ta deliver our king's message," Karak said.</p><p>"Now tell us yer name and yer business with us," Malak added, glaring fiercely at the man.</p><p>"I am Kairem," the man said, getting slowly to his feet. "And no business have I with you."</p><p>Malak could see now that the man's leather clothes, while certainly primitive in their construction, would likely serve the man as effective armor. He carried a hatchet in his belt much as Karak did, but the man's weapon was obviously hand-made with a chipped obsidian head lashed with sinew to a bone handle. In fact, the only object that showed any craftsmanship at all was the round buckler he wore on his left forearm. Kairem kept that arm beneath his furs, so Malak had only a glimpse of it, but it appeared to be made of steel.</p><p>"Come, Kairem," Karak said, indicating that the man should sit beside the fire, "why be ye here on a day such as this?"</p><p>"Why are you here?" Kairem asked warily. His eyes kept darting about as if he suspected that the dwarves were laying some kind of trap for him.</p><p>"We be takin' respite from this storm. Are ye?" Karak told him.</p><p>"Then know you nothing of this place?" the man asked and crept a little closer to the fire.</p><p>"Nae much," Malak told him, "but what our guide said we might find respite here."</p><p>"Guide?" Kairem asked, his head swiveling about in search of the guide. "Another is with you?"</p><p>"Arngrim was our guide," the cleric said. "But he disappeared yesterday when tha storm started. We've nae seen him since."</p><p>"Mmmm," the man intoned, seeming to relax a little. "Dangerous places are the mountains. Much bad can befall the uncareful."</p><p>"Are ye familiar with th' area?" Karak asked. "Know ye much o' this 'ere monastery?"</p><p>Kairem shook his head quickly and crouched down beside the fire.</p><p>"Much I do not know," he said. "But a little I do. Evil, these men were - witches working terrible magics. All dead they are. A great and hungry spirit lives here now. Kill you both, he will if you stay."</p><p>"We've seen this spirit," Karak growled, his frown deepening as he remembered the thing's chilling touch.</p><p>"And alive you are," Kairem said, sounding impressed. "Mighty warriors must you be."</p><p>The man smiled at them and Malak noticed that his teeth were all wrong for a human. They were all sharply pointed, even those in front which should have been flat along the bottom like a dwarf's. The man caught the cleric staring at his teeth and raised his hand to his mouth.</p><p>"Here, not much grows," Kairem said. "But meat there is. Eat meat to live. Sharp teeth work better for meat." </p><p>Malak began to study their new acquaintance with renewed interest.</p><p>"Do ye know this part o' tha mountains?" Karak asked. "We'd like ta be away from this place, but ken nae tha way."</p><p>"Oh, yes," Kairem said and stood up. "Know the way, I do. Nearby is better shelter. There no spirits live. There I have food."</p><p>Malak caught enough of a look at Kairem's buckler to see that it was indeed made of steel. Its edge was engraved all around with what looked like dwarven runes. What they said, Malak could not say as he didn't get a good enough look at them.</p><p>"Follow me to better shelter now?" the man asked, gesturing toward the door. "To stay here is not safe."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Jon Potter, post: 312207, member: 2323"] [b]Part 17: Meet the Neighbors[/b] The shaggy man crept toward the dwarves' campsite, his eyes darting from the two dwarven forms to the archways leading out of the room to the mangled goat corpse to the stairs up and back again in a constant cycle. His head twitched nervously as the fire popped and he seemed ready to flee at the slightest provocation. His eyes - which were a shade of blue that verged on white - seemed wild as they peered about in the semi-darkness. He approached Malak, who was nearer the door than Karak, and hovered near the sleeping dwarf. He studied him intently, and Karak saw one mittened hand slip beneath the fur shawl the man wore. Whether he was reaching for a weapon or not, Karak couldn't wait to see. He stood up all at once, his armor clattering loudly in the entryway, and the scraggily man fell backwards onto his behind. He began scrambling on the timeworn tile floor, looking fearfully at Karak as he did so. "Hold," the dwarf said in the Common tongue, laying a hand on one of the throwing axes tucked into his girdle for emphasis, "before ye make a mistake what'll have ye wishin' yer mother had tha foresight nae ta e'en meet yer father." The man stopped moving, and Malak began to stir. The Battleguard peered wearily up at his brother through one squinting eye. "We've a visitor, me chalak," the warrior told his brother and angled his chin at the man. The cleric rolled over, looked at the man and got hastily to his feet. "Who are ye?" he asked with a scowl. "Who are you?" the man responded his head cocked back so that he looked at them down the length of his face. His nostrils flared rhythmically. "I am Malak, son o' Kignar, faithful Battleguard o' Shaharizod. I journey south with a message from me king," Malak said. "And I am Karak, son o' Kignar, loyal warrior o' clan Stoutgut. I journey with me brother ta deliver our king's message," Karak said. "Now tell us yer name and yer business with us," Malak added, glaring fiercely at the man. "I am Kairem," the man said, getting slowly to his feet. "And no business have I with you." Malak could see now that the man's leather clothes, while certainly primitive in their construction, would likely serve the man as effective armor. He carried a hatchet in his belt much as Karak did, but the man's weapon was obviously hand-made with a chipped obsidian head lashed with sinew to a bone handle. In fact, the only object that showed any craftsmanship at all was the round buckler he wore on his left forearm. Kairem kept that arm beneath his furs, so Malak had only a glimpse of it, but it appeared to be made of steel. "Come, Kairem," Karak said, indicating that the man should sit beside the fire, "why be ye here on a day such as this?" "Why are you here?" Kairem asked warily. His eyes kept darting about as if he suspected that the dwarves were laying some kind of trap for him. "We be takin' respite from this storm. Are ye?" Karak told him. "Then know you nothing of this place?" the man asked and crept a little closer to the fire. "Nae much," Malak told him, "but what our guide said we might find respite here." "Guide?" Kairem asked, his head swiveling about in search of the guide. "Another is with you?" "Arngrim was our guide," the cleric said. "But he disappeared yesterday when tha storm started. We've nae seen him since." "Mmmm," the man intoned, seeming to relax a little. "Dangerous places are the mountains. Much bad can befall the uncareful." "Are ye familiar with th' area?" Karak asked. "Know ye much o' this 'ere monastery?" Kairem shook his head quickly and crouched down beside the fire. "Much I do not know," he said. "But a little I do. Evil, these men were - witches working terrible magics. All dead they are. A great and hungry spirit lives here now. Kill you both, he will if you stay." "We've seen this spirit," Karak growled, his frown deepening as he remembered the thing's chilling touch. "And alive you are," Kairem said, sounding impressed. "Mighty warriors must you be." The man smiled at them and Malak noticed that his teeth were all wrong for a human. They were all sharply pointed, even those in front which should have been flat along the bottom like a dwarf's. The man caught the cleric staring at his teeth and raised his hand to his mouth. "Here, not much grows," Kairem said. "But meat there is. Eat meat to live. Sharp teeth work better for meat." Malak began to study their new acquaintance with renewed interest. "Do ye know this part o' tha mountains?" Karak asked. "We'd like ta be away from this place, but ken nae tha way." "Oh, yes," Kairem said and stood up. "Know the way, I do. Nearby is better shelter. There no spirits live. There I have food." Malak caught enough of a look at Kairem's buckler to see that it was indeed made of steel. Its edge was engraved all around with what looked like dwarven runes. What they said, Malak could not say as he didn't get a good enough look at them. "Follow me to better shelter now?" the man asked, gesturing toward the door. "To stay here is not safe." [/QUOTE]
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