Ice, Luck and Honour

[Spider_Jerusalem]

[Edit]Edited 6th September 04 into past tense[Edit]

Ice, Luck and Honour


Chapter 9: Eye of the Blizzard
Part 1 of 3

Middle Winter, Realms Date 1372


Surveying the beginnings of the skirmish at the base of the steps, Torious watched as five men rushed out of the hall to join the fray. Stepping into the light, Torious glanced back to check for any remaining volunteers. Instead, his eyes met the sight of the wild-haired man carefully helping an aging woman from the basement. Draped over her wiry body were sleek red robes, a heavy crimson hood shadowing her face from the afternoon light…

- - - - - - - - - -

Milo feinted left then tumbled sideways, rolling tightly through the ettin’s legs. The ettin tried to follow, but collapsed heavily to the ground with a grunt of surprise as it chased the elusive halfling through it’s own legs. Milo pounced forwards and stabbed the fallen ettin in the side.
“Stay down, filthy beast!” cried Milo enthusiastically as Vampire bit deep, his veins suddenly flaring in ecstasy with the half-giant blood. The villagers around the ettin took heed from the daring halfling and swarmed onto the downed creature, their weapons hacking with fury into the roaring giant.

The woman in red dashed forwards, her body slung low to the ground as she rushed at the second ettin. Thalin back-pedalled away from the powerful swings of the enraged giant, its two monstrous heads snarling in unison as the mage ducked under another swipe. The ettin stepped forwards with a thud, emitting a guttural growl from one head and a snorting laugh from the other. The ettin loomed over the mage, it's club ready to bring down a final crushing blow. Suddenly bellowing with pain, the ettin dropped to its knees as the woman in red rushed past, her sword tracing across the hamstrings of the giant.

A shower of frozen shards into the crippled ettin from Thalin's outstretched hands. The giant's skin cracked and snapped away as frost crawled across it's chest. Undeterred, the ettin lurched forwards and smashed Thalin to the side with a heavy swing. Lifting the mage off of his feet, Thalin was sent crashing through a half collapsed wall and into the remains of a smouldering house. The ettin roared with a mix of triumph and pain as it watched the roof of the house give way and collapse heavily onto the crumpled mage.

- - - - - - - - - -

Turning away from the frail red robed woman and the questions that her presence has created, Torious instead bounded down the steps of the church as the cries of battle echoed from outside.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Please Merrick, you must not go out there,” breathed the old woman, her words almost a whisper, “you must be kept safe”.
Straightening herself up and reaching up with hands mottled by age, the woman in red drew the hood away from her face. Her eyes were hollow and her skin loose, as if her skull had shrunk and left the rest behind. Grey hair, what little of it remained, was pulled tightly back from her head. Smiling thinly at Merrick, her eyes softened slightly as she saw the illusion of immortality that all humans of that age possess.

“I can go where I want Errilinth, you said that yourself,” Merrick said with a hint of rebellion in his voice, “so I’m going”.
Conceding defeat, Errilinth watched as Merrick turned and jogged to the town hall doorway. His silhouetted form paused for a moment to look back at the woman who had guided him thus far, then stepped out into the afternoon light.

Errilinth stood motionless, watching with trepidation as the child that she had been charged to defend all those years ago left her side of his own free will. Clasping the pendant around her neck with a gnarled hand, Errilinth gazed past the scattered beams and the burnt timbers to the gallery of frightened faces huddling against the far wall. All their eyes were now on the woman in red standing alone in the centre of the town hall. She watched them for a moment. Their fearful eyes, their burnt clothes, their undying hope.

Turning away from the cowering townsfolk, Errilinth followed into the light, lifting her hand to protect herself from the glaring sun. Squinting out across the skirmish below, she saw Merrick join the townsfolk as they circled a dead ettin. Their frenzied attacks dared not slow to see if the beast is dead. Their leader was a halfling who slid his blood-slick shortsword into the fallen giant again and again.

She will know soon.

Errilinth stood calmly at the top of the steps, waiting for what shall inevitably come.

- - - - - - - - - -

Torious staggered his attack again, driving Freedom’s Edge hard into the belly of the creature. Backing away a step, he found himself next to the woman in the red armour. Both watched as the ettin staggered backwards, one of it's heads lolled useless and dead on it's chest.
“Who are you?” grunted Torious as his shield guided a flailing blow from the ettin into the ground.
“You shouldn’t ask a lady that,” came the reply as she circled to her right, purposefully knocking against Torious as she sidestepped, “who are you?”
Torious gritted his teeth as the ettin bellowed again and lumbered forwards with its club, “I’m Torious Mangrane. I am a descendant of Tyr the even-han…”
“Great,” interrupted the woman in red as she suddenly pulled herself dangerously close to Torious, “I’m Vaerana Hawklyn. Pleased to meet you.”

Vaerana grinned wickedly at Torious then thrust away from him with a powerful kick, sending the bewildered Torious skidding onto his back with a crash. A second later the ettin’s huge club thundered into the ground where the two warriors once were. Vaerana landed in a crouch, then immediately darted forwards to attack the stooped giant. But she was stopped short as the ettin collapsed in on itself in a cascade of crystallised ice.

Thalin stood haggard on the mound of smouldering rubble around him; his hand outstretched towards the frosted ettin. His eyes glared at the sundered corpse of the giant with a blaze of vengeance, “Bastard”. His energy spent, Thalin wavered once then toppled sideways with a gasp of pain.

 

[Spider_Jerusalem]

I'm sorry that these last few postings have slowed down to a bit of a crawl, but I'm afraid its going to get a little worse before it gets better.

Because, I'm off on holiday today (well... sort of) and I'll be back on the 25th. I promise you parts 2 and 3 of Chapter 9 will be posted up within a few days of my return.

See you guys soon.

P.S -- if this floats to page 3 of the story hours, could someone please give it a mild bump?

Oh yeah - Torious' player posts to ENworld now. His username is freedom's edge (if you hadn't guessed that already).

Spider.

 

[Broccli_Head]

Ice, Luck and Honour


Chapter 9: Eye of the Blizzard


Middle Winter, Realms Date 1372


…

Thanks for the post! Can't wait til you return. Am really enjoying the characters and learning of their personalities. I am partial to Torius as Tyr is my favorite god in the Realms....hard to beat divine rank 18!

 

[freedoms_edge]

I warn you now, divine might is pointless to the players when spider's dm-ing.....

 

[Spider_Jerusalem]

I'm back from my holiday and with a variety of "voting for this and that story hour" on the boards I have become slightly jealous , and so redoubled my efforts to improve Ice, Luck and Honour. I hope you see the improvements in the next few chapters.

Chapter 9 part 2 is coming oh-so soon.

Spider (master of subtle bump-age before he posts up the next installments).

 

[Malessa]

I've been trying to find time to read your thread for awhile now! My hubby, DM CthuluFtaghn, speaks highly of your writing abilities, and story content...What I have read here and there, makes me wish I could find time to read all, again and again!

Since school has started up again, and I am a home school mom, involved in and support my hubby's campaign, mother of 2yr old, and sketch as well(which explains my busy schedual), I'm going to add you to the "good reading" material to our studies. Not only to satisfy my own intrigue, but to help our 9yr stay compelled and thurst for "whats next?" in reading. Since he doesn't read books like he should but loves to play D&D, I'm sure he will stay focused and be just as enthusiastic as I am, to read your campaign stories. Hope you don't mind, and thanks!

 

[Enkhidu]

Now where on earth did that wonderful Ice, Luck, and Honor Story Hour go?

Oh! Here it is!

ker-BUMP.

 

[Malessa]

Worked like a charm!!

Today was the first friday, of future fridays to come. For my 9yr old and I to take time reading stories in story hour. Yours is the first, for our Reading lessons in English(homeschooling).

We only got as far as the intro, and first character background. We took turns on each paragraph, matter of fact, my son got mad if I read more than I was supposed too. Considering it takes a miracle for him to ever pick up a book on his own, I'm thinking we have found something good here. He and I enjoyed it very much, and of course, him being a young boy, loves the swordfights, blood and guts type stuff. His fav. part was when Torious(?) smacked Limmet with his gauntlet (we also have reanactments along the way), and flickering of swords. He also thinks the scares on his face are cool, cause they glow....

Needless to say, we will be back next Friday for the next character background and so on. I'm thinking since he is so excited and genuinely intrested in reading these, we might just end up being a permant fixture on story hour, for as long as it lasts....Hope you don't mind us starting with yours...

As for me in this, I kill two birds with one stick. I get time to read other stories besides proofing and enjoying my hubby's, and I get the joy of my son's change of intrest, of wanting to read! My Friday's are complete!

 

[Femerus the Gnecro]

Chapter 9 part 2 is coming oh-so soon.

Oh? So soon?

But not soon enough!

C'mon, man! I've updated mine for the first time in a month... it's your turn.

Tag, yer it!

-F

 

[Spider_Jerusalem]

The update. As requested.

(Malessa - great news to hear your son likes the stories - I'm honoured! I hope the goblin raid isn't too violent for him, and I also hope that my english holds up well enough under your inquisition!)

PS. You guys will notice that the writing has clicked into past tense, as of now. I'm sad to say it, but the present tense was starting to become a real pain to think through, and I like to reason that I might write a little better in past tense . Anyway, I hope you guys aren't thrown out too much by this (I really didn't want to switch in the middle of a "to be continued...", but I was left with no choice).

Also, sorry its taken a while to update - moving house threw all my plans out of the window. But now I'm sorted and should have regular(ish) updates going on.

I'll shut up now, and let you get back to Torious, Thalin and Milo.

- - - - - - - - - -

Part 2 of 3


Milo thrust the blade downwards, his small hands painted red with the ettin’s blood. His eyes focused, breathing steady and hands tight around the hilt of Vampire, Milo continued to methodically strike into the dead giants back.

The workers of the village stood in a silent circle around the felled giant, weapons held awkwardly as they watched the cold fury of the halfling. Words were exchanged between the villagers, and Merrick stepped boldly forwards, his hand outstretched to the halfling as if to hold him back,
“Halfling, halt. The beast is dead and gone”.

Merrick approached cautiously, everything was silent save for the soft crunch of his own boots in the snow and the rhythmic schlick schlick of the halfling’s sword. Milo abruptly halted his attack mid strike and twisted towards the young man. Merrick halted and looked up into the blood-speckled eyes of the figure above him. The halfling’s face was expressionless as Vampire flickered forwards in a liquid arc, the blade sliding neatly into Merrick’s mouth and out the back of his neck. At the top of the town hall steps, Errilinth screamed.

- - - - - - - - - -

Torious crouched next to the unconscious Thalin, his hands traced over the soft, bruise tinged, ridges of a splintered arm. Vaerana stalked in a steady circle around the two companions, her arms folded, her eyes monitoring every movement of this man called Torious. A cry of fear reached her ears, from across the village. Before she had time to move, Torious had sprung to his feet and was already ten paces away.

Vaerana went to follow, but halted as a wheeze of pain snared her attention. The sound wasn’t from Thalin, who was still unconscious, but from a red-armoured knight who had sat up in the centre of the village. Vaerana paced quickly towards the vulnerable fighter. With his back turned and his head still reeling; the knight of Ser Robar heard the advancing footsteps too late.

- - - - - - - - - -

Merrick’s face was a mask of surprise as he slid away from the sword tip. The young man’s body quivered for a moment then folded backwards and crumpled to the frosted ground with a thud. Milo involuntarily convulsed backwards, dropping Vampire as he moved. The glistening blade clattered to the ground, only Milo noticing the circle of ivory fangs that protruded from the underside of the hilt, and the way they slowly receded, as if the sword were alive. His hand was swimming red, ten dark sinkholes pierced into his thumb and forefinger. Like a clap of thunder, comprehension of his actions hammered straight into his mind and he suddenly saw what lay about him.

Milo watched as Torious broke through the circle and shouted to him, though his ears would not hear. The villagers shouted too, their faces wracked in fury and fear, but their voices seemed distant and soft. Torious turned on the circle then, his face suddenly ablaze with scar-light. Yet Milo ignored this, as his eyes were drawn to the steps of the town hall, and the woman in red that stood solemn and alone. It was then, that amidst the silence around him, a glorious pillar of light sprung forth from the dead boy at his feet and vaulted upwards.

Milo felt a warm breeze on his face and his deafened ears echoed with song. The circle of men around him fell to the ground, their hands covering their eyes. Watching as the light flew higher and wider, Milo was drifted from his feet by the breeze and carried away from the light, though he wanted nothing more than to fall into its blinding body. As he floated, a snow-bent tree clawed past, as if trying to grasp him from the sky. Suddenly, Milo was jarred violently downwards and a sudden rush of white heat spilled across his side. The pillar grew dim and the blazing light became pale. A searing scream of pain surrounded him, and Milo knew it was his own. Then the world melted grey, his vision drowning into blackness moments before the ground rushed up to meet him.


- - - - - - - - - - [INTERLUDE] - - - - - - - - - -


The table was set for a grand feast. The wandering minstrels, clothed in such an array of splendid colours and fashions, vied for the attention of the many, many guests. The music of the hall seemed to provide a rhythm to the conversation and laughter that echoed between the walls of the tower. Milo was pleased. He was certainly hungry, and the food that was laid before him was beyond even his culinary imaginations. Basted bulette meat stuffed with cornsour, roasted kingswood potatoes, a platter of sautéed rothe sirloin that seemed too far down the table for Milo’s liking, frosted Amn salad, and many other dishes which Milo simply didn’t know the name for.

His company was of a great many races, their differences seemingly cast aside for this joyous occasion, though Milo could truly not guess at the reason for such a lavish party. Directly across from him was an aged dwarf who seemed intent on hoarding all the stonebread he could see, despite the food replenishing itself when he wasn’t looking. On either side of Milo sat two men who seemed to be friends, each wearing a chainmail shirt covered in a thick brown doublet with a family signet emblazoned on the front (a castle tower entwined with the stem of a rose). Milo had resolved himself many times to ask if the men wished to sit next to each other, but no sooner had he chosen his moment to ask than another platter would appear with food too tempting to forget.

And so this revelry continued, the guests dined and laughed as if it would never end. Above them all, the stars blazed in a scattering of brilliant white points, for the ceiling of the hall had been removed, presumably for the guests’ enjoyment. And as such, the sky and stars were a great talking point of the feast. Milo was eager for conversation to spill his way, and so chose what he assumed to be a common interest of the feast, the green star that moved gently between the constellations. As soon as he had begun to ask questions of this to the men beside him, than he was ignored completely. His chosen topic seemed to be void at this particular party, so Milo decided to ignore the company and concentrate upon the food.

The feast pressed on, though the courses did not change. More meat was laid in front of Milo and he found himself eating more than he had ever before, as if the food would not fill him at all. His thoughts dwelt upon this subject for a while before he became aware of a man watching him. He sat across the table and a few seats to the left, his plate was clear and the persons about him simply talked through him, as if they could not see him.

His face was angular and stretched, the skin pulled tight across his rigid bones. Beneath his faintly hooked nose, his lips were thin and pale, almost non-existent. However, his eyes were sharp and black in grey, hollow sockets. His hands were placed on the table, his fingers formed a lattice in front of him as he stared back at Milo, his dark grey robes fading into the surrounding guests like spider webs and shadow.

“Milo…” whispered the man, his eyes swivelled upwards as he spoke.
Milo tried to answer, but his mouth was dry and dead. He could feel his tongue scatter to dust as he moved, his throat stripped bare of muscle and flesh.

“Milo…” said the man again, his hands slowly drifting apart. His face was tilted upwards, his eyes blazing with a lust for something above. His hands found the table and the man poured slowly onto the tabletop, his robes spilling across the food like poisoned water. Milo tried to react, but his hands were withered and old, like his dear grandmother's. The guests around him seemed oblivious to the man now standing on the table, his robe trailing into their laps and meals as his grey and cracked arms raised towards the sky.

Milo saw then, the green star had rushed onwards, its once faint green light now bathed the entire hall in a sickly glow. The man stood now, his arms outstretched to the onrushing fireball as if it were a child coming to its father. His face was no longer withered and dead, but joyous and wicked, his eyes black opals of desire and greed, and his mouth a jagged slit of vicious laughter. And still, Milo could not move, for his insides were dust. The light blazed forwards, the guests still laughing and smiling, for they could not see the danger that was bearing upon them.

“Milo…” the man said again, his hideous face curling into a mocking smile.

“Milo!” this time more deep and urgent as the green light drowned the hall.

“Milo!” his face cracked and the guests peeled away, their joyous faces still unconcerned as the light burned and charred them.

“MILO!”

- - - - - - - - - -

Vaerana raised her hand, her open palm hovered in the air as she motioned to Thalin. The mage stood tall in the cold mountain winds, then nodded and shouted the halfling’s name again. The harsh wind carried most of the shout away, but Milo’s eyes suddenly snapped open none the less. Vaerana did not see this and brought her hand downwards in a high arc, but Milo used this to thrust her sideways, pinning her in the foot deep snow, his boot-dagger at her throat.
“D-Don’t hit me a-again.” Milo chattered, his shuddering blue lips undermining what threat he might have meant.

Vaerana laughed carelessly, though she quickly remembered the scenes they had left behind in the village some three days ago. She shrugged the halfling off and stood up, brushing the snow away from her cloak, which was still the ragged red material that Milo remembered. Thalin hurried forwards to pick his companion up, though Milo pushed his hand away and struggled to his feet on his own accord. Mikka stood just behind Thalin and craned for a better view, though knew better than to say anything right now.

“Where are we?” Milo winced, as a sharp wind slated past. All about was the white blanket of thick snow, and the beleaguered faces of the village folk. He remembered little, only flashing images of the ettin’s attack, and an old woman in red seeming so sad. But everything was hazy, as if blinded by something.

“We’re on our way to Ilinvur. We have to travel through the Galena pass first though, we should reach there by night fall, if things go our way,” answered Thalin, his face creased with concern for his companion.
“Y-You just had some sort of seizure, that’s w-why we’re here, in the snow,” said Vaerana, her lips quivering from the cold as she spoke. The surrounding villagers, who numbered only twenty one, nodded in agreement as Vaerana continued, “we’ve been carrying you for three days, ever since we found you outside the village.”

Milo slowly stood up; his hair was matted with snow. The circle of townsfolk stepped backwards involuntarily, as if scared of him. They looked at him with equal measures of fear and hatred, though the halfling did not know that yet.
“Why do they step away from…” Milo asked, but his voice failed as his head rushed with pain and he crumpled to his knees. Thalin, Vaerana and Mikka dashed forwards to support the halfing, their strong grips carrying him back towards the sheltered cave.

- - - - - - - - - -

Torious pressed the tips of his fingers into his forehead as he tried to concentrate, though nothing would help.
“He was my ward. Like my child. He needed to be protected from someone. You don’t have to understand it, just…” explained the old woman calmly, her hard features softened by the firelight in the cave.

The few villagers who had not chased after the writhing halfling watched in silence as the priest stalked across the cave again, a pandemonium of shadows on the far wall mimicking the aasimar’s movements. Torious halted suddenly, and the village children gasped in suspense.
“Old woman…” began Torious
“Errilinth.” retorted the old woman, her heavy red robes drawn close about her. A village maid giggled into her hand.
“Errilinth,” stated Torious, a sideways glare hushing the maid into silence before he continued, “you say that you and the child…”
“Merrick.”
“Yes, Merrick. You say that you and he travelled from Cormyr, which was where you met. Correct?”
Errilinth mused this over for a moment, “Yes.”
“So you are originally from Cormyr. Correct?”
“Yes.”
“But you have a Dalelands accent, if I am not mistaken.”
Torious turned away from the fire and the woman, his hands held triumphantly behind his back as he waited for her answer.

Errilinth paused for a moment, her sharp eyes watching the villagers with interest, their innocent faces hooked on every word of the debate. She winked at a clutch of small children who giggled and whispered between each other as Errilinth withdrew her pale hands from her red robe and began to curl a small arcane rune in the air.

“Have you no answer, woman?” Torious pressed.
“Not quite yet…” Errilinth answered with a sly grin as she completed the hand movements. She then pointed at the shadow of Torious against the cave wall. The children followed her long, gnarled finger, and then began to squeal with laughter as the shadowy form of a rabbit shyly poked its flat head out from Torious’ own shadow.

Torious, too wrapped up in the questions he would ask next, ignored the child’s laughter and didn't notice as a small flurry of woodland animals began to depart from his shadow and assume poses along the cave wall. The remainder of the villagers began to laugh along with the children, their situation suddenly forgotten in the midst of Errilinth’s shadow puppetry.

But the laughter died abruptly as Vaerana, Mikka and Thalin crashed into the cave entrance holding Milo, followed by a flow of villagers who quickly darted towards the shadowed, gloomy rear of the cave.
“Put the damned fire out!” hissed Mikka, his small feet stamping at the fringe of the roaring fire. Thalin spun around and the flames died with a wave of his hand, the light trickling out of the cave and into the steady white silence outside. Torious and Errilinth turned in concern to their companions, their debate cast aside as they both saw the obvious fear on the villagers faces that now crept through the cave as word of mouth spread about. Frightened whispers filled the dark.

A young child clutched desperately about Mikka’s leg as a shower of dirt rained from the cave ceiling, accompanied by a dull thoom thoom that began to reach the tiefling's ears. The child buried his face into his doublet with fear. Mikka shushed him and held him close, his fingers ran through the child’s hair repeatedly, though more to calm his own nerves than to comfort the child.

“What is it?” asked Torious, his eyes searching the faces of the shivering villagers for an answer as another shower of dirt settled to the floor. The deep, heavy beat grew louder, many of the children began to cry, but were quickly held by their parents or friends, rough hands clamped over their mouths.

Thalin pressed himself against the shadowy cave wall and clutched onto Erifeci hard, his knuckles shining white as the whole cave began to shake. He looked across at Torious with a face worn haggard with fear and exhaustion, “Frost giants”.