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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jon Potter" data-source="post: 4009885" data-attributes="member: 2323">[PLAIN][Realms #423] Hard Times in Erlacor[/PLAIN]Huzair waved off the eldritch warrior's comment and moved passed him with nonchalance. As he went he spared the albino a nudge to the ribs "Did you hear that, Morier? My little flower said she was glad I am well. A woman has not said something that nice about me since... ever."Despite himself, Morier's face split into a smile and he stifled back some abortive laughter. He knew that the wizard's words most likely the absolute truth and the comment went some small way toward easing his concerns about Huzair.Shamalin just sighed. "I need to pray," she said.The cleric sought out the farthest corner of the cave for her meditation. Much had happened and she yearned to commune with her goddess to sort things through. Methodically she removed Blackheart's armor - it was still Blackheart's armor, though she viewed it as an extension of herself now. She knelt, steadied her breathing, and attempted to clear her mind. Several factors worked against her reflection, however.Across the room, Huzair had drawn his elemental sword insisting to Ixin that its magic had been absent on the astral plane. Now Flameblade's voice was echoing its raucous challenge throughout the cave. Karak, though often respectful of her needs (perhaps a result of having experience with the religious ways of his brother), was at the moment engaged in a heated discussion with Morier. Every so often he would pound his axe handle on the stone floor for emphasis. Not far from her, Shamalin could discern the dark shape of Ayremac absorbed in his own prayers. She had become familiar enough with his practices, but the confines of the cave set him to flex and flutter his wings every few minutes, adding to her own agitation. A slow throbbing began to grow from behind her eyes, and Shamalin knew she would have to expend a minor healing miracle to ward off a splitting headache. It was going to be a long night.  In the end, the guidance she sought was ephemeral and cryptic. But she had come to expect it this way, and so took what comfort she could in the words. "You walk a path of danger. Every action you take holds risk. And this is no different but that the danger comes without intent if it comes at all." She sighed as she voiced the White Lady's response to her query during morning rations, while Anania was momentarily away. "You should have asked if the eyes alerted anyone to our presence last time," Huzair chided. "I knew Anania was not intentionally doing anything." "Perhaps you're right. I never believed her to be purposefully endangering us either. Her skills are beneficial," she relented. "It's just that the attacks came so soon after her sending..." Her voice trailed off as Anania made her return known with some uncharacteristic shuffling on the stair. Shamalin stood to intercept her."Perhaps the eye messages were not the cause of our attack," the cleric admitted. "Your loyalty to your sovereign is commendable. We are fortunate to have you with us." Without waiting for a response, Shamalin clanked up the stairs to begin the day. Anania watched her go and then turned to the others."There's not sign that the frost worm has returned," she informed them. "It's likely been scared off by the resistance it encountered last time, but I see no reason to linger here if we needn't." She glanced over at the small island in the middle of the pool. Sometime during the night the portal that glowed there had disappeared, leaving the outcropping unremarkable."I agree, my little flower," Huzair said, walking toward her with a grin. "Let us follow Whitey's pull. How about you lead the way."Sunday, the 28th of Fireseek - Godsday, the 7th of Readying, 1270 AEAnd so she did, leading them northeastward so that they quickly returned to the course set by Morier's head and maintained that path as the days passed and the weather worsened. Snow began to fall on their first day, but it didn't accumulate much at first; the steady wind kept it at bay, leaving the frozen ground bare save for a fine dusting of frozen powder that moved and eddied about them as they trudged miserably on. That first night the temperature began to plummet, dropping well below freezing and staying there for the long week they spent hiking toward the Risilvar Escarpment looming rosily at the horizon. Anania's skills at survival were put to the test as they travelled, but she managed to keep them fed and free of frostbite despite the conditions.By the time they spotted the fortress on the afternoon of Godsday they were moving through shin-deep snow covered with a sheen of ice that crumbled beneath their every footfall. Only Karak and Anania seemed unperturbed by the terrain. Neither sank into the accumulation with each step. Karak's magical boots allowed him the luxury of walking atop the snow and Anania didn't even leave any footprints behind as she passed. For the others, however, the forced march was akin to torture, leaving them gasping and trembling with fatigue. The crumbling, lichen-covered walls of the fortress looked palatial to their eyes as they approached, the smoke rising from chimneys within promising a warm fire and a respite from sleeping beneath the stars on frozen ground.The disappointment was palpable upon spotting a yellow swath of cloth indicating plague nailed to the closed gate. Anania raised a hand to forestall the group even as an arrow arched up from the keep into the twilight before thunking down into the permafrost near Karak's boots."Oi!" the dwarf bellowed in protest and a voice answered from atop the wall."Move off, outlanders!" someone shouted. "You'll find no succor here!"</blockquote>

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