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"An Icy Grave" : A Tale of Two Brothers
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<blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 314476" data-attributes="member: 2323"><p><strong>Part 18: A Perfect Storm</strong></p><p></p><p>Karak and Malak exchanged a look during which they both decided that following the man out of the monastery was preferable to staying in it. No matter what awaited them outside, it had to be better than what they already knew existed in this evil place.</p><p>"Aye, Kairem," Malak said to the man. "We'll follow ye. Let us gather our gear an' we'll be ready."</p><p>The man nodded and smiled broadly at them.</p><p> As the brothers walked toward the cluttered pile of provisions they had retrieved from the remains of Arngrim's goat Malak spoke quietly to his brother.</p><p> "I definitely mistrusts this human, me chalak," the Battleguard muttered in dwarfish. "If'n 'e knows how evil this 'ere place can be, why wou' 'e enter it and find us? And 'e must 'ave crept up on us rather quietly for ye nae ta notice 'im while ye' were on guard."</p><p>Karak nodded his head, color creeping into his cheeks.</p><p>"Aye, he crept up right quiet, a'right," the warrior said. "I'm thinkin' 'e may be dangerous, but hopefully nae somethin' we two kinna 'andle."</p><p>Malak nodded as they stuffed gear into their packs.</p><p>"Those things aside, that buckler 'e's wearin', well best I can tell - 'e got it from a dwarf," the cleric said. "There be runes along th' edge what I kinna make out, but trust me, me chalak, they were dwarven."</p><p>"Mayhap 'e got it for helpin' a dwarf or two," Karak hypothesized. "That'd explain why 'e trusts us so much. Why wou' 'e go an' bring two strangers ta 'is shelter? He dinna seem wary o' us in tha least."</p><p>"Well, we last saw that evil spirit make its way out that same door 'e came in," Malak countered. "How do we know that's nae him come back as a human form?"</p><p>Karak harrumphed and cast a glance at Kairem. The stranger stood beside the door staring at them silently.</p><p>"Tha' may be," Karak answered in a soft voice, "but 'e might be th' only chance we got ta get out o' this 'ere place ta somewhere less... uh... evil."</p><p>"Indeed, me chalak. Ye be right with that, but we best nae be lettin' our guard down at all whiles we travel with 'im." Malak said.</p><p>"Agreed," Karak nodded and hauled his pack up onto his shoulders.</p><p>The cleric took a last look at the gear that they would be unable to transport because it just wouldn't fit. He sighed.</p><p>"We be ready," Malak told Kairem, as he turned and headed for the door.</p><p></p><p>When they had discovered the monastery almost by accident the day before, the weather had been severe. It had worsened during the night.</p><p>As before, the wind bit at their exposed flesh and froze their breath to their beards, but it no longer served to scour clean the rocky path. Too much precipitation had accumulated during the night, and its surface had frozen to a thin glaze of ice that wouldn't support their weight, but made wading through it even more difficult. The blinding sheets of snow cut their visibility more effectively than darkness ever could have, and they hustled to keep the shaggy shadow of their guide in sight.</p><p>Karak, in his heavy armor, soon began to lag behind. Malak turned back and could barely see the shape of his brother amidst the swirling white. He stopped and turned back toward Kairem. His shape was indistinct, obliterated almost entirely by the snow.</p><p>"Oy! Kairem!" Malak called into the wind and waited for Karak to catch up.</p><p>Kairem seemed to be waiting for them as well; they could just make him out at the extent of their vision. Once they started moving again, so did he - staying close enough always for them to see him.</p><p>They marched along that way, struggling to keep up with their guide, for what seemed like hours. They lost sight of him at times, and of each other a time or two as well. It was unclear where they were going and at no point did the weather improve. The cold continued to work against the two dwarves, however.</p><p>At last, Malak stumbled, slumping forward onto his hands and knees. Karak hustled to his brother's side and lifted him upright.</p><p>"Malak," the warrior cried. "Can ye stand?"</p><p>"I dunno, chalak," the cleric responded, breathlessly. "I canno' feel me feet."</p><p>Grunting, Karak hauled his brother upright and put the cleric's arm around his shoulder.</p><p>"Mayhap me constitution's met its match," Malak chuckled sardonically. "I'm feelin' a wee bit numb."</p><p>In truth, it was a great deal worse than that. His limbs felt like lead, and it was all he could do to keep his head up. His fingers had begun to develop a painful tingle similar to the one that had settled into his feet a short while before.</p><p>"Where be tha' moss-covered, anvil-droppin' rock runt o' a guide?" Karak growled impotently into the storm. "Do ye see 'im?"</p><p>"Nae," Malak muttered. "But methinks it dinna matter, chalak. I think 'e's been leadin' us 'round in circles."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Jon Potter, post: 314476, member: 2323"] [b]Part 18: A Perfect Storm[/b] Karak and Malak exchanged a look during which they both decided that following the man out of the monastery was preferable to staying in it. No matter what awaited them outside, it had to be better than what they already knew existed in this evil place. "Aye, Kairem," Malak said to the man. "We'll follow ye. Let us gather our gear an' we'll be ready." The man nodded and smiled broadly at them. As the brothers walked toward the cluttered pile of provisions they had retrieved from the remains of Arngrim's goat Malak spoke quietly to his brother. "I definitely mistrusts this human, me chalak," the Battleguard muttered in dwarfish. "If'n 'e knows how evil this 'ere place can be, why wou' 'e enter it and find us? And 'e must 'ave crept up on us rather quietly for ye nae ta notice 'im while ye' were on guard." Karak nodded his head, color creeping into his cheeks. "Aye, he crept up right quiet, a'right," the warrior said. "I'm thinkin' 'e may be dangerous, but hopefully nae somethin' we two kinna 'andle." Malak nodded as they stuffed gear into their packs. "Those things aside, that buckler 'e's wearin', well best I can tell - 'e got it from a dwarf," the cleric said. "There be runes along th' edge what I kinna make out, but trust me, me chalak, they were dwarven." "Mayhap 'e got it for helpin' a dwarf or two," Karak hypothesized. "That'd explain why 'e trusts us so much. Why wou' 'e go an' bring two strangers ta 'is shelter? He dinna seem wary o' us in tha least." "Well, we last saw that evil spirit make its way out that same door 'e came in," Malak countered. "How do we know that's nae him come back as a human form?" Karak harrumphed and cast a glance at Kairem. The stranger stood beside the door staring at them silently. "Tha' may be," Karak answered in a soft voice, "but 'e might be th' only chance we got ta get out o' this 'ere place ta somewhere less... uh... evil." "Indeed, me chalak. Ye be right with that, but we best nae be lettin' our guard down at all whiles we travel with 'im." Malak said. "Agreed," Karak nodded and hauled his pack up onto his shoulders. The cleric took a last look at the gear that they would be unable to transport because it just wouldn't fit. He sighed. "We be ready," Malak told Kairem, as he turned and headed for the door. When they had discovered the monastery almost by accident the day before, the weather had been severe. It had worsened during the night. As before, the wind bit at their exposed flesh and froze their breath to their beards, but it no longer served to scour clean the rocky path. Too much precipitation had accumulated during the night, and its surface had frozen to a thin glaze of ice that wouldn't support their weight, but made wading through it even more difficult. The blinding sheets of snow cut their visibility more effectively than darkness ever could have, and they hustled to keep the shaggy shadow of their guide in sight. Karak, in his heavy armor, soon began to lag behind. Malak turned back and could barely see the shape of his brother amidst the swirling white. He stopped and turned back toward Kairem. His shape was indistinct, obliterated almost entirely by the snow. "Oy! Kairem!" Malak called into the wind and waited for Karak to catch up. Kairem seemed to be waiting for them as well; they could just make him out at the extent of their vision. Once they started moving again, so did he - staying close enough always for them to see him. They marched along that way, struggling to keep up with their guide, for what seemed like hours. They lost sight of him at times, and of each other a time or two as well. It was unclear where they were going and at no point did the weather improve. The cold continued to work against the two dwarves, however. At last, Malak stumbled, slumping forward onto his hands and knees. Karak hustled to his brother's side and lifted him upright. "Malak," the warrior cried. "Can ye stand?" "I dunno, chalak," the cleric responded, breathlessly. "I canno' feel me feet." Grunting, Karak hauled his brother upright and put the cleric's arm around his shoulder. "Mayhap me constitution's met its match," Malak chuckled sardonically. "I'm feelin' a wee bit numb." In truth, it was a great deal worse than that. His limbs felt like lead, and it was all he could do to keep his head up. His fingers had begun to develop a painful tingle similar to the one that had settled into his feet a short while before. "Where be tha' moss-covered, anvil-droppin' rock runt o' a guide?" Karak growled impotently into the storm. "Do ye see 'im?" "Nae," Malak muttered. "But methinks it dinna matter, chalak. I think 'e's been leadin' us 'round in circles." [/QUOTE]
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