Medriev's FR Keep on the Shadowfell - Concluded Nov 7

[Medriev]

Chapter 7 - Winter Travelers (Part 2)

Enlishia looked out from the wall towards the distant ruined keep and thought again of Mandratan and Gevarn who had fallen there. It had hit Dulvarna hardest of all for she took the burden of responsibility upon herself and now journeyed to the graveyard beyond Winterhaven’s walls at dawn and dusk to honour the fallen with candles and prayers as Lathander taught. Enlishia had sought her own solace on the walls of Winterhaven, aiding Lord Padraig’s meager militia as they watched for goblins and worse during the worst of the winter weather. That they would have to return to the ruined keep was not in doubt in Enlishia’s mind but they would likely need allies. Perhaps the militiamen would yet serve, she mused.

Suddenly, she heard her companion , a young man named Deernan who was barely a year older than she was, cry out. He stood on the wall on the other side of the village gate and had obviously been more attentive than she had been for he was gesturing toward the trail that led up from the East Way. Enlishia looked down and saw a wagon, pulled by two draft horses and flanked by three robed figures making its way slowly up the trail from the East Way. Enlishia picked up her bow from where it rested against the parapet and started across towards the gate. She reached over her shoulder and pulled an arrow from the quiver slung there, nocking it to the bow string as she went.
“Who comes, Deernan?” she asked as she reached the gate.
“I know not,” the man answered, none are expected.
“Who goes there?” Enlishia called out into the night. “Who comes to Winterhaven.”
“I am Ambassador for the First Lord of Hillsfar,” called back a gruff, male voice that seemed strangely familiar. “I am bound for Suzail and the Court of the Purple Dragon and seek shelter here for Midwinter.”

It was Midwinter Eve the next day and Lord Padraig was having a feast at which specially selected animals would be cooked to provide a respite from the lean winter months. If the man was who he said he was then he would have to be admitted else it would bode ill for Padraig and Winterhaven when the man reached Suzail. Enlishia allowed herself a moment of indecision and then called down to the man once more.
“Who travels with you?” she called.
“Advisors and bodyguards, both,” called back the man and now Enlishia felt sure that she had heard his voice before.
“Open the gates,” she called down to others below and slowly, with a loud grate, the stout wooden bar was slid aside and the gates of Winterhaven swung open.
“Stay here,” Enlishia said as she started for the stairs down to the street. “And load your crossbow just in case.”
The man looked alarmed for a moment before picking up his crossbow and beginning to crank it back. Enlishia ambled down the stairs, an arrow still nocked to her bow. As she reached the street, the man, his wagon and his escorts were just passing through the gateway and he turned towards her.
“Hello Enlishia,” said the man, pulling back his hood.
“Lord Berdar,” Enlishia gasped and then rushed to embrace the man, throwing her bow aside.

 

[Medriev]

Chapter 7 - Winter Travelers (Part 3)

“What think you of it,” said Berdar as he held out the knot of wood to Enlishia.
“It is a map, clearly,” said Enlishia, speaking quietly as she and the companions now shared the attic of Wrafton’s Inn with nearly a dozen others from the vale who had come to Winterhaven for the Midwinter feast. They had given up their rooms for Berdar and his two companions at Enlishia’s insistence and now lived alongside dead chickens and salted sides of pork and beef that hung from the rafters in the hope that Lord Padraig or Sister Linora would buy them for their lavish tables.

“That much is obvious,” rumbled Erlmoor but the words mean nothing to me.
Two phrases, Nepenchil’s Rest and Fiendish Foot were carved in common runes beside the strange map that was carved into the wood. Dulvarna shrugged and the hooded woman who called herself Thira remained silent. At last, Lavren spoke up.
“The Fiendish Foot I have heard of,” said the elf, recalling a tome he read three decades before. “It is a dark relic that grants its wearer some power of demons. That it is carved here makes no sense.”
“And if the goblin is from this keep you spoke of,” said Kel turning her wide, almond shaped eyes on Lavren. They were all that could be seen from the depths of her hood and the elf was intrigued with what little he had seen of the woman. Her body was undoubtedly shapely but he did not even know if she was woman or elf maid or of some other race that walked the Realms.

“And I have heard tell of Nepenchil,” she said then, turning to the others. “Lord Nepenchil was an eccentric Cormyte noble who moved his hold to a keep in the Hullack Forest a century ago during the reign of Palaghard II, great grandsire of Azoun IV. It is said that invitations to the week-long hunts he hosted were quite coveted by the nobles of his time.”
They all looked to Kel then, wondering where she had come by such knowledge of Cormyr, intrigued as Lavren was.
“We should seek out this tower,” she said then, turning to Lavren and seeming to wink at him. “The Hullack is along the East Way. We will pass it on the way to Suzail.” The last was directed at Berdar and he nodded gently.
“Our business is not finished here,” said Dulvarna sternly. “The Keep is still a danger here and far from beaten.”
“And as the goblin had this map then the Keep you fear may be tied to the Fiendish Foot and Lord Nepenchil’s keep,” answered Kel.
“And what will you do while we seek this keep, Lord Berdar?” asked Dulvarna.
“Lord Padraig has offered me the Purple Dragons who remain here as escorts,” answered Berdar. “I can spare my escorts for a little while at least.”
“Very well then,” said Dulvarna. “When you leave we will come with you and seek this Nepenchil’s Rest.”
“It is as settled as it can be then,” said Berdar. “But before you go on, my companions should reveal their true selves. Show them.”

The two women hesitated but then, with hasty glances to be sure no others in the attic looked, they pulled back their hoods. Thira’s hood revealed a face that was pale and shapely but from her head grew two thick horns that curved back behind her ears. Her hair was short and bright, white blonde. Kel, meanwhile revealed herself to be an elf and a devastatingly beautiful one, though her skin was black as night and her hair as white as pale moonlight.
“A drow and a tiefling,” gasped Lavren as the two women hastily pulled up their hoods.
“Does this change anything?” asked Berdar. “It should not for Kel and Thira have served me well for years.”
“No, it changes nothing,” answered Dulvarna at once. “We judge by deeds, not race.”
“Agreed,” said Enlishia. “Friends of yours are friends of mine, Berdar.”
“For that, we thank you,” said Kel then. “We should set out as soon as Midwinter is done.”
It was agreed and a dark elf and a tiefling joined the companions for a while at least.

 

[Caldarion]

Great job! I'm enjoying this! I'm doing the same thing (solo campaign) at this site: D&D 4e The Order of the Vanguard | A Tale of Mythgara Would really appreciate some feedback on it.

 

[Medriev]

Great job! I'm enjoying this! I'm doing the same thing (solo campaign) at this site: D&D 4e The Order of the Vanguard | A Tale of Mythgara Would really appreciate some feedback on it.

Firstly thanks for posting and glad you're enjoying the story. KotS (with a couple of side treks) ran to 22 chapters in the end so there's plenty more to come and I've now started Thunderspire Labyrinth.

Had a look at your web site and it looks great. Would love to have the time and ability to create something like this. Will have a read of the story so far on the weekend (away with work until then) and post some feedback.

 

[Medriev]

Chapter 8 - Guardians of the Forest (Part 1)

Serethira Bralkiir embraced Berdar Djaler and turned away as Enlishia took her own turn to embrace her former mentor. The tiefling now wore a head scarf to cover her horns for the day was bright and warm for the season. Beside her, Kel remained hooded for her skin was as much a giveaway of her identity as her pure white hair. Once the goodbyes had been said, the six companions watched Berdar leave, surrounded by an escort of Purple Dragons and leading the draft horses who had pulled his wagon all the way from the Moonsea. When he turned a bend in the road and passed out of sight, hidden by the trees of the Hullack Forest, Kel waved them towards the overgrown remains of a trail that snaked south east into the forest. It was certainly warmer here than it was in the mountains to the east and the walk was pleasant as they headed deeper into the forest seeking the ruin that the goblin had held a map to.

As they walked, Thira mused on the Fiendish Foot and what it might be capable of. She herself had demonic ancestry and she had been fascinated from an early age by the power of her ancestors. Berdar had taken her in and channeled her thirst for knowledge into a useful mastery of magic but still she wondered and feared. Would she be tempted when she came face to face with the real power of her bloodline or would she turn away? She could not tell.

Thira looked ahead then as the vegetation around the overgrown trail was thinning.
“Something burns ahead,” said Erlmoor from the back of the group. “I see smoke.”
“I see it to,” said Lavren.
“As do I,” said Kel.
“Damn the eyes of the elves,” muttered Thira under her breath, quoting a book she had read as a child.
“Make ready,” said Dulvarna. “few good things lurk in forests in winter.”

They drew weapons and readied spells before Dulvarna led them cautiously into the clearing ahead of them. They had stumbled upon a camp, at the heart of which was an ornate pavilion with fifteen smaller tents surrounding it. All were coloured in various hues of deep green and blue. Around camp fires sat elves in various weary postures, some wounded and others tending to them. The nearest leapt to their feet at once, drawing back bows and nocking arrows to strings. Others continued working upon the wounded and building a pyre, gathering firewood and freshly picked flowers while still others sorted items from a pile of battle spoils that included black shields and well-polished, steel blades. The source of the smoke that Erlmoor and the others had seen lay beyond the camp. There, a grassy meadow rolled down into the still waters of a shallow, ice limned bog. There, next to the bog, a macabre heap of humanoid corpses had been put to the flame. Between the camp and the burning bodies Thira picked out signs of a small but intense battle with arrows and broken weapons lodged in the ground. Even her eyes, less keen than elf or drow, could pick out blood staining the grass. The elves had faught a fierce battle here and seemingly, despite their hurts, won.

“Who comes to our camp?” said one of the archers at once. “Identify yourselves.”
“We are in service to Lord Padraig of Winterhaven,” said Dulvarna sternly. “And we came this way seeking a ruin that may be allied with goblins that have plagued that place.”
“Then you should speak with our leaders,” answered the elf quietly. “We will take you to them once the funeral here is ended.”

The six stood grimly at the edge of the camp as elves carried wooden litters into the camp from the far side bearing the bodies of nearly a dozen of their fallen to the central pavilion. Lavren bowed his head, recognizing the occasion for what it was and Dulvarna, Enlishia and Erlmoor all felt the pain of their recent losses anew. Thira and Kel, meanwhile, simply looked on curiously, neither having seen the like before. At the pavilion, a cleric in a winged helm awaited the fallen and beside her stood a hooded acolyte and a proud elf lord with a bandaged wound on his head. The acolyte carried an incense burner and moved to lead the procession toward the pyres to the east of the camp. The priestess and the elf lord followed and as each was laid upon a pyre, the priestess led the gathered elves in a mournful low song.
“They lament the lost years of their kin,” whispered Lavren to the others. “And wish them well on the journey to Arvandor.”

When all had been laid upon a pyre, each was set alight in turn by the acolyte and the elves stood for a few moments as their song faded into the woodland afternoon. Then, the elf lord and the priestess made their way back to the pavilion and the other elves dispersed around the camp. As the two leaders reached the central pavilion they beckoned to the archers who had first met the companions and waved them forward.

 

[Medriev]

Chapter 8 - Guardians of the Forest (Part 2)

“My guards tell me that you seek the Ashen Tower,” said the elf lord without preamble, once the companions had sat down at the table set out for them in the central pavilion. Before them was a meal of meats, bread, cheese, fruit, sweet breads and wine that had seemingly been made ready in no time at all. “What takes you there exactly?” the elf continued.
“We fear that whoever dwells there may be allied with goblins who plague Winterhaven to the east,” answered Thira.
“It lies deep within a part of this forest where elves never venture,” said the elf lord who had been named Litiraan during the introductions before the meal. “The survivors of the battle here fled towards it.”
“Then perhaps we can aid each other,” suggested Thira helpfully. “We will track down your enemies in return for safe passage.”
“Perhaps,” said the elf priestess named Telkya who sat next to the elf lord. “But I am still curious about who we treat with and would know more. Where are your kindred from, Thira? Your eyes are intriguing.”
“My kin are from Hillsfar,” answered Thira without lying. “The eyes are a family trait.” This, too, was the truth, although not all of it.
“I’m sure they are,” said Telkya sternly. “And the mysterious Kel. “What ails you that you hide beneath a cowl through the warmest time of a winter day?”
“My kin do not tolerate daylight well,” answered Kel, also telling the truth such as she could.
“That is a shame,” Telkya responded. “You miss so much hidden beneath a cowl.”
“That is enough questioning of our guests,” interrupted Litiraan. “A word if I may and if our guests will excuse a momentary interruption.”

The two conferred in whispers then while the others ate and observed in silence. The food was truly delicious and the wine the finest that any, save perhaps Lavren, had ever tasted. The two turned back to their guests a few moments later.
“We faught hobgoblins here,” said Litiraan then. “Fierce brutes who were aided by sorcerers and dark priests. Thirteen of our kin died in the battle but we sent forty seven of the foul goblins to the Hells in return. Alas, the object of our expedition here, the chieftain Khurbok, fled the battle with the few followers that remained to him rather than be taken. He headed east into the part of the forest that we have long been forbidden to go.”
“Many among our number resent our decision not to pursue Khurbok,” said Telkya then. “It seems he heads towards the Ashen Tower which is the ruin that you seek. It lies at the heart of the forbidden part of the forest.”
“We will pay you three hundred gold pieces for the head of Khurbok,” said Litiraan.
“Then we will bring it to you,” answered Lavren and the rest nodded their agreement. They ate the rest of their meal mostly in silence for they knew now the enemy that awaited them.

 

[Medriev]

Chapter 8 - Guardians of the Forest (Part 3)

“I heard them say it,” said Ilar as he tore a piece of meat from the small rabbit leg he held in his hand.
“It can’t be,” answered Micor. “Litiraan would not allow it.”
“Wrong,” Ilar snapped back with a half smile. “He would not allow us to go there but if the strangers seek the Ashen Tower then he will let them. And we should go along.”
“They’re not going there,” Micor persisted, pulling out a whetstone and starting to sharpen his sword. “And even if they were, Litiraan would forbid it.”
“But this is not our forest anymore,” Ilar responded. “We haven’t lived here for centuries. Litiraan can forbid nothing.”
“Well it matters not,” Micor answered, looking resolutely at the blade of his sword. “They are not going there.”
“I’ll prove it,” Ilar said, tossing the rabbit leg back onto his blade that sat on the grass outside the tent the two brothers shared. He leapt to his feet and danced over to the northern edge of the camp where archers had first greeted the strangers. He spoke to a group of archers animatedly before dancing back to his brother jubilantly. Micor knew what his brother would say before he spoke.
“They’re going,” said Ilar. “Shame I hadn’t suggested a wager.”
“And if Litiraan forbids it,” Micor answered.
“He won’t,” Ilar replied before becoming suddenly serious as he sat back down on the log beside the fire. “We must go with them if we are to avenge father’s death.”
“You’re right,” Micor relented, nodding slowly. “If they are going, it is the only way. But Litiraan could still stop us.”
“He should not,” Ilar replied. “We have the right to avenge our kin.”
“As do many others here,” said Micor grimly.
“Then let them come with us,” Ilar answered with finality. “All listen too much to Litiraan and not enough to their hearts.”
“And how will we do this?” asked Micor.
“We will ask the strangers,” Ilar declared.

 

[Medriev]

Chapter 8 - Guardians of the Forest (Part 4)

“I cannot allow it,” said Litiraan once the two elves had presented themselves before his tent just as Dulvarna and the others were leaving. “The forest around the Ashen Tower has been forbidden to elves for centuries. It belongs to our enemies.”
“But this is the Hullack Forest,” said Dulvarna. “Surely no great enemy lurks so deep within Cormyr.”
“It was not always so,” answered the elf lord. “Once we were allied with the kings of men here and we guarded this forest for them. The woods around the tower was taken by an ancient evil and is forbidden to elves. I am surprised that you, Lavren, are happy to enter it.”
“He has a duty to his friends as much as to his people,” rumbled Erlmoor softly. “And these two have a duty to avenge their father.” He of all the companions felt the burden of honour that the elf brothers felt and understood the duty that they must perform. “If they are prepared to brave this ancient decree then they should be allowed to do so. For the sake of their father.”
Litiraan seemed stirred by the paladin’s appeal and lowered his eyes.
“Very well,” he said at last. “But they go of their own will and on their own heads be it.”

Ilar and Micor bowed stiffly to Litiraan and the others followed suit. Dulvarna then turned towards the southern edge of the camp and the boggy ground where the hobgoblins still burned. In the pale light of the winter afternoon, she led the companions out of the camp, heading deeper into the forest.

 

[Medriev]

Chapter 8 - Guardians of the Forest (Part 5)

They heard wolf howls before they had gone very far, first from the left and then answering ones from the right.
“Why is this place forbidden to elves?” asked Kel, still keeping her face hidden beneath the hood of her cloak.
“It was taken by the servants of an evil god,” answered Micor quietly.
“Which evil god?” asked Dulvarna firmly.
“Malar, the Beastlord,” Ilar replied.
“Brilliant,” said Enlishia, unshouldering her bow. “Just brilliant.”

The wolves appeared first from the left of the trail they were following, two of them. Dulvarna drew her sword and met both with her blade, slashing across the muzzle of one as she danced forward. Another darted out of the trees from the right towards Ilar who danced back away from it while reaching for his swords and moved aside to allow Thira forward. The tiefling pointed her staff at the wolf and loosed a silver bolt into the beast’s side, twisting its body away from the elf. Another wolf darted past its companion and leapt up to seize Thira’s outstretched arm, tearing the flesh and almost forcing her to drop her staff. She lashed arm and staff to the right, shaking the wolf free and hurling it into its companion. Both yelped and as they rolled to their feet, Enlishia loosed an arrow into the side of one that drew another yelp from it. Erlmoor was upon the wolves an instant later, roaring his anger and covering both with a shower of acid breath. He struck at the nearest with his sword but it danced back, whimpering and apparently fearful for the moment. Ilar drew forth a longsword then and slashed at the muzzle of the other wolf driving it back, whimpering as the other had. He drew a short sword from his other hip then and spun both before him to keep the wolves at bay while Kel sneered behind his back.

“My kin do that better,” she muttered under her breath.
“Pardon?” asked Micor from just in front of her as he drew one of his blades.
“Nothing, nothing,” answered the cloaked drow.
Micor nodded to her and then danced away with his longsword held in both hands. He circled around behind Erlmoor and plunged it into the chest of the nearest wolf, felling it with a last whimper. He turned to grin in victory at Kel but it was momentary.
“More wolves are coming,” said Lavren as more howls came from left and right. He drew forth his wand and moved left to aid Dulvarna but then saw the source of one of the howls. Another wolf was loping forward through the trees to the left unseen by his companions. With a flick of his wand and a curse in elvish, he loosed black, crackling eldritch fire at the beast. The wolf was struck in the shoulder but it had broken into a run now and searing, burning agony would not stop it. The wolf leapt as it reached the elf but Lavren turned aside and whilst its teeth grasped his shoulder for a moment and tore painfully into his flesh, the elf ‘s turn and the wolf’s momentum sent it careering to the floor at Thira’s feet.

 

[Medriev]

Chapter 8 - Guardians of the Forest (Part 6)

Dulvarna looked over her shoulder as the other wolf rushed in and, satisfied that her companions were coping well without her, she turned her attention back to the two wolves she now faced. One darted at her but she dodged back and it grasped only a low tree branch in its jaws which it shook free with its own form of annoyance. The other darted at her then but she swatted at it with her armoured right arm. It seized the limb for a moment but then fell away from her with a growl as its teeth failed to pierce the scaled metal that covered her. Dimly, she heard Micor cry out a warning as another wolf came at him from the right of the trail and then Kel was beside him, her morning star in her hands and a prayer in elvish on her lips.
“Ciryn Dulvarna,” she cried as the last phrase and then struck at the nearest wolf but the beast danced back and the pale blue glowing light that had been building around the head of the morning star died there and then.
Without asking the meaning of her name in the prayer, Dulvarna took advantage of the drow’s arrival and slashed at both wolves, driving them back further and stopping them for a moment from making any more attacks. Kel turned towards her and deep within her hood, Dulvarna saw her wink. This was the drow’s first battle with the companions and already she was enjoying herself. Dulvarna could not help but be impressed.

Behind the two, Thira retreated from the two wolves who were now outnumbered by the blades before them and then waved her staff towards them. A column of flame descended on the backs of the wolves and with more yelps, both leapt forward towards their waiting enemies. One, realizing its nearness to Ilar, growled fiercely and darted at the elf but Ilar danced back out of the wolf’s reach and then plunged forward with both blades before him, seeking the throat or skull of the wolf. Instead, his blades seared along the shoulder blades of the wolf and lodged against the ribs beneath. The wolf staggered and yelped again, twisting away and tearing itself free of the blades. Micor plunged forward with his own blades, seeming to want to mimic his brother but the wolf he faced was fresh and unfazed. It darted to one side and the elf only managed to score its flank with his curved short blade.
From the left, Lavren called to them in elvish for aid as he drew his own sword to keep the wolf before him at bay. He slashed at the beast but it dodged left and then darted in to seize his right ankle. He slashed at it again and it released its grip but not before it had torn at the flesh of his leg painfully and drawn more blood.

Kel dodged and twisted as a wolf leapt at her but it tore her sleeve and her forearm beneath before landing awkwardly on the ground beside her. She uttered a prayer as the wolf came back at her and swung her morning star at it, keeping it at bay for a few heartbeats. Her enjoyment of the battle was fading with the pain of her first wound but Kel took a moment to thank her fierce upbringing which had kept her alive so far. She looked over at Dulvarna, and admired her skill with a blade which had presumably been gained in battles such as these. Even as Kel looked, the warrior woman charged at both wolves and slashed her blade across the shoulder of one and into the flank of the other. Both backed away for a moment, whimpering as they went. Kel heard Thira chanting behind her and turned for the briefest of moments as the tiefling loosed flame from her staff. The wolves were ready this time, though and not to be cowed. They darted forward, low to the ground and evaded the fire that seared above them. The two lines met then and, as a wolf leapt at Lavren, Kel turned away with her morning star before her.
The drow slashed her morning star at the wolf before her and it thought better of darting forward but Dulvarna was not so lucky for the wolf she faced leapt and seized her arm for a moment before she shook it free. Dulvarna drove her blade into the shoulder of the wolf as it rolled to its feet and it retreated from her again to give her a few moments breathing space.

Thira uttered another incantation, extended her staff and called forth a column of flame that engulfed the nearest wolf while the other leapt away. The burned wolf gave a sharp whimper and then, as the flames died around it, it fell to the soft ground as a blackened corpse. The tiefling smiled and felt a thrill of exultation and excitement course through her. She had never killed in battle before and she could not deny that, as many warriors had told her in Hillsfar, there was an excitement to be felt despite the violence and brutality. She wondered if the others felt it and decided almost at once that Enlishia did not as she fired another arrow over the top of the last wolf to the right of the trail.
Thira brought to mind another spell and then cursed as Ilar danced into her way, slashing his blade at the last wolf. She turned instead to the left of the trail where three wolves still fought and where Lavren valiantly defended her. She heard him curse vehemently in elvish at the wolf before him and then slashed at it with his blade, tearing its muzzle and one of its nostrils. She liked Lavren and would aid him, Thira decided. He had a fierce spirit which mirrored her own.
The wolf came back at Lavren and bit his hand but the elf paid it no mind and fought on. Thira rushed back onto the trail to find a place from which she could aid him.

Dulvarna gasped as the wolf barreled into her but she did not fall. The wind knocked from her momentarily,
she struggled for breath for a moment as Kel evaded the other beast. The drow began praying again and then she struck at the wolf with a high overhead swing that came down on the wolf’s back. There was a burst of black energy and a sound like thunder as the blow struck and the wolf reeled away, stunned for the moment.
Dulvarna stepped between the wolves and slashed her blade across the flank of one as it tried to dart behind her. She spun on the spot, moving back to defend Thira and Lavren but as she did so, she ended her wide swing by thrusting the point of her sword into the side of the other, dazed, wolf. It whimpered and staggered as though about to fall but then it staggered back towards Kel and just remained on its feet.

Erlmoor roared and drove his blade into the shoulders of the last wolf before him. He was angry that this wolf had evaded him for so long but wrathful also, that Malar had sent these beasts to their inevitable deaths in this quiet, woodland glade. Ilar plunged his blade into the side of the wolf and found its heart at last. It slumped forward without even a whimper to lie at the feet of its three slayers.
Ilar and Micor looked around quickly and then rushed to aid Lavren while Erlmoor looked down sadly at the fallen wolf.
“It should not have died this way,” said Enlishia, coming up behind the dragonborn.
“It should not,” rumbled Erlmoor in response.

“Good to see you,” said Lavren breathlessly as Ilar and Micor came to his aid against the wolf he faced. Behind him, Thira frowned, annoyed that her aid, albeit a wild silver bolt that had missed the wolf, had gone apparently unappreciated. Lavren darted forward at the wolf and drove his sword into its shoulder, forcing it back and away from him. The wolf let out a long, mournful howl then before turning to flee into the forest to the east. The other two wolves, backed away from Kel and Dulvarna and then fled themselves, leaving the trail quiet and deserted once more.