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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jeremy" data-source="post: 1372884" data-attributes="member: 4036">Ashabenford, Mistledale13th of Deepwinter in the Year of Wild Magic The snow had let up again though Winter's chill had no such plans. An especially odd group of four were braving the Moonsea Ride today, headed up to the village of Glen in Mistledale. Titus had the lead, Blackhands they called him, his hands looking almost as if frostbite had claimed them but still agile enough to wield the almost six foot length of blackwood he carried. It was going to be a long hike today with the pace they had to maintain due to Galdur's short stature. "We shoulda bought ya a pony Stumpy," Titus joked. True to form Galdur obliged the human by swinging his shield into Titus's unarmored hip. In the cold it smarted a little more than normal, but Titus never got tired of goading the dwarf. "Don' call m' Stumpy!" Galdur obliged the human, in truth he was getting kind of numb to the nickname. The human looked like he was in his mid-thirties, fought like he was in his mid-twenties, but sometimes he acted like he was some punk teenager. But the dwarf breathed lived and breathed patience and it was just Titus's way. He wrapped his thin cloak around himself tighter and wondered if he would ever be warm again. Not for the first time he cursed the damn Zhentarim woman who had stolen every last coin of his in her 'tax'. The gold dwarf hadn't had long to hate the Zhentarim, but he was learning fast. The thought of their orcs and ogres stuffing their tusked faces in the halls of Tethyamar rankled. But he wasn't about to complain out loud, especially not with the elf there. The elf walked along softly, occassionally eyeing the treeline back past the farmsteads that dotted the country side along the Moonsea Ride. He didn't talk much, which was just as good because no one particularly understood or appreciated his dark humor anyways. Every so often he would be taken in another coughing fit, the wet deep coughs of the very sick. Elves don't often take sick, at least not for long, but this moon elf apparently had been stricken with the consumption at a very young age and it had never let go. Even now, his lips were flecked with crimson. Elayne looked at him with concern but the elf would hear nothing of it. He had been dealing with it for near a century now, he was still here because he refused to let it beat him. Not that her time crossing the Black Road hadn't been about the worst time of her life, but she couldn't help but think he would be more comfortable some place with warmer, drier air. Her thoughts were interuppted by the sound a horse churning up the road at full gallop. The group each stepped out of the road as the rider thundered past showering them in bits of mud and snow, slowing not in the slightest at Galdur's hail. A purple cloak streamed out behind the human but Elayne was watching the horse. Homesickness would strike her at the strangest times, and the powerful stallion reminded her of some of the horse shows her Aunt used to take her to in the Trades Ward. But this horse would likely be dead today. It's flanks were lathered, its nostrils were flared out and unless the rider had critical business in Glen, it was still two days ride to Hillsfar. "What's his hurry?" the dwarf grumbled. *** Sometime later, the elf stopped, looking away to the north. The sounds of battle carried across the dale valley. All of them heard it. There was a war on, chances are, if they got involved, they might save a life, they might turn the tide. But they also might end up dead to a man. Titus looked, and looked again. Then he shook his head and kept on down the road. A cry called out, and Galdur set his jaw. Setting his shield before him he plowed into the snow beside the road, clambering over some farmer's fence post and cutting across the snowfield towards the treeline. Elayne was right behind him. Titus stopped, the elf was looking at him, but there was no question. He waved the elf off towards the dwarf. "Well, what are you waiting for? Time to roll the dice," the human said as he began to cut across the snow as well towards the treeline. The elf's bow was already in his hand. He pulled his hood back and gazed into Cormanthor. And so it begins.</blockquote>

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