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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Spider_Jerusalem" data-source="post: 356358" data-attributes="member: 5507">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 <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f615.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":confused:" title="Confused    :confused:"  data-smilie="5"data-shortname=":confused:" /> . 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 3Milo 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”.</blockquote>

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