Quest A God In Chains

[Kol]

Eret Truil Isle - South of The Tundra

A perpetual storm hung over the Island ahead, it's massive ice cliffs looming high up in the sky like a bulwark. The clouds above it seemed to swirl and loom, strikes of lightning reaching down to touch the ice below at a constant rate. No waves rocked the sea around the atoll, the sea going still the closer one got. It was eerie, a strange sort of silence rolling towards them.

Kol clung to the great Wyrm Carving at the prow of his longboat, his head cocking to the side as he watched the Icy Fortress that lay ahead of them.

Rumor and story had swirled around the the Isle of Eret Truil for almost as long as anyone could remember.

It was a place to be avoided, a place to be feared. Those who ventured onto the Island often never returned, and those that did were driven mad by what they had seen. Stories had spread all over the Tundra for millenia, reaching Nordwiir, Nords, and even the Great Frost Giants. All of them had tales of this place, whispers of a chained god, of a demon wrapped in a cold which no mortal could comprehend.

Eret Truil was a hell on Arethil. A plane of torturous nightmare that even the witches of Kjos shied away from in their dreams.

Yet Kol had come here, and so had those others in his ship.

The long Longboat seemed almost out of place within the calm waters, drifting forward in the quiet storm. The island ahead of them grew larger and larger, only a single inlet leading further into the prison. Kol's gaze flickered up as they came towards the cove, barely hearing the voice that rang out behind him.

"I can almost hear it speak."​

It was Estrid that spoke, one of the twins who had joined his company on this journey. When he had made his declaration he had been in the one of the Free-Cities, but they had picked up stragglers all their way down the Tundra. Mercenaries, adventurers, Witches, and even those just curious had come along. A motley crew, to say the least, but perhaps one that might finally learn the truth. "I can't."

Kol said softly, noting the silence of the Dark Gods which usually whispered in his skull.

 

[Cahir]

Cahir's shoulders rolled, his rounded deltoid muscles lurching forward. He was undoubtedly the least human-looking crew member.


Sitting or not, he dwarfed the rest of his comrades, with whom he was loosely acquainted. Cahir's herculean form was nothing like that of a normal tiefling, but instead a mountain of muscles draped in leathery, ragged skin, colored and fashioned like mottled granite stone.

The male snorted, shaking his head. He was agitated, latently by a biting chill, the onset of which he held off with magic. It was more so the ambient energy that sparked his ire. He saw it clearly with his witch-sight. A maelstrom of foreboding tendrils writhing around the ice-encrusted island.

"Anrbzyv udaz öthnyz,"

The utterance passed silently, barely above a whisper, its syllables melting into the frigid Nordic air.

Cahir stood up, stirred once more by a barely audible voice in the back of his head. Stretching on his tiptoes, he felt the luxury of his tensing muscles.

Implored by whatever had spoken, Cahir shuffled his way through the tightly packed crowd, an increasingly difficult task given his sheer size. It took him, a 2.5 meter tall and 300 kg heavy man, a handful of seconds to reach the ship's front.

There he found their de-facto leader, Kol.

"Greetings, wise one," sounded Cahir, voicing a vague, yet harmless compliment.

Kol

 

[Kol]

The Nordwiir built their longships well. Between the skinwolves and the abominations sometimes spawned by the blessings of the Gods it was not uncommon to have beings of Cahir's size onboard. Still, even offered such constructions the ship swayed as the massive Tiefling moved.

Kol did not look back towards the man as he offered greeting.

Instead he gazed upon the cove ahead of them, ringed by massive pillars of ice. The fortress of frost rose in front of them, offering nothing less than the utmost intimidation as the ship slowly sailed into the calm waters.

Ahead of them lay a beach of rock and stone, slowly settled among the icy waters. Beyond them, a mile ahead on the land one could see a gate. It lay wide open, two eyes settled above it's expanse. They seemed to stare at the ramshackle compatriots.

That whisper echoing outward.

"I do not think any wise man would come here." The Sorcerer said finally.

His voice grew quiet for a moment, the stroke of oars passing through the water being the only sound echoing outward. "Just ambitious ones."

The Nordwiir mused out loud as the longship scraped against the ground rock of the beach. Almost immediately the sound of men jumping over the side could be heard, splashing into the waters and wading onto the shore.

Finally Kol turned to Cahir, looking up at him. "But then again, perhaps not all of us are of man at all."

 

[Jinx]

Macari had joined his crew on something of a whim. He had been wandering through the Free Cities when he had overheard this suicide of an idea. The follies of man always did make Macari smile. Their poor ideas were their most redeeming qualities in his eyes, After all, they made the best stories.

He had chosen the guise of a simple minstrel, who could also cook and take care of himself. A perfect member for a venture just like this.

It was why he found himself leaning against the mast of the ship with his lyre in hand. His voice softly sang out to the crew.

"Ech day me comëth tydinges thre,
For wel swithë sore ben he:
The on is that Ich shal hennë,
That other that Ich not whennë,
The thriddë is my mestë carë,
That Ich not whider Ich shal farë."

The ancient melody was from a language long forgotten. He still remembered the day he learned it from that young shepherd's son. That boy had gone on to conquer much of the lands south of the Spine...was a shame that his life suddenly came to an end because of a skittish horse.

 

[Cahir]

"Ambition, born of wisdom, possibly of heightened intellect too. Perhaps a bit of both is at play."

Cahir left the half-question to loom before unceremoniously continuing his line of thought.

"The world is soon to change greatly. Dare I say that it'll be flipped upside down," he commented, snorting in a lungful of glacial air that stung his unaccommodated nasal cavity.

"And with that, comes a great reshuffling, a change in the pecking order. A wise man won't allow himself to be situated unfavorably once all is said and done."


Sheer proximity to the unholy monument had visible, palpable effects on Cahir. His calloused skin prickled and itched, as if electrified by an unseen force.

He clenched his jaw, teeth grating, gums receding ever so slightly.

The very space around them felt as if it had been impregnated by a malevolent, chaotic miasm. The stony-skinned male felt it oozing from every square inch of the desolate island. Creeping closer, it permeated their wooden vessel with waves of reverberating madness.

Cahir almost smiled at Kol's comment, his lips curling into a mock grimace like a pair of fleshy curtains.

"The dark gods blessed me with this form."

"It..." the exclamation hitched in his throat. A not-so-distant singer had let their voice loose, and it happened to reach Cahir, prompting his pointy ears to perk up.

"It is the sole proof of my divinity."

Kol
Macari Longeas

 

[Kol]

Kol did not look back as their other companion began to sing. Instead he closed his eyes, fingers tightening, the world shaking around him. A breath filled his lungs, slowly dragging into his beings as Cahir spoke of futures yet to come.

Of change.

Of what would be within this world.

The words seemed to linger within his ears, overlapping within the song, resounding with the echoes that had so far stayed silent within his mind. With them came the whispers he was so familiar with. The small, nearly silent words of the Dark Gods once again reaching into his mind.

Their familiarity was almost a comfort. Their touch something that he was nearly lost without.

Slowly his eyes opened as Cahir finished, as the song came to a close. "The Dark Gods offer many blessings."

Kol said softly.

"Even if they would snatch them away with another hand." Slowly the Sorcerer glanced back over his shoulder, looking at the man who was not a man. The Dark God's echoed in his skull, whispering.

"Watch."
"Another world."
"Take."
"Steal."
"Bargains to be had."​

Their words echoed out again and again, but their whispers was not why they were here. Slowly Kol turned back towards Cahir. "Perhaps on this isle, you will find your own divinity."

Kol said, looking up at the man with a brief smile, the ship suddenly jerking as they came upon the ground. A call went out from some of the sailors, voices echoing out. Kol smiled, and then placed a hand upon the prow.

Without another word he bounded over the edge of the ship, the first to step upon the shores. He waded through the water, and with each step the ground seemed to shake.'

The cove ahead of them seemed to rumble, the icy cliff-face ahead shaking. The crack of earth and ground resounding. It seemed to echo out, and then suddenly the cliff began to split. A great crevice formed, splitting the cliff and creating a gate shrouded within dark and mist.

As it opened, a voice swept out from within.

"DRAMITH AREEEEEEN!"​

The voice bellowed in sound and skull. Breaching even the realms of those beyond.

Cahir | Macari Longeas

 

[Jinx]

Macari had been brought to this frozen wasteland on a whim, letting his feet carry him wherever they chose. It seemed clear to him not that his feet were certainly trying to fuck with him, but that was a conversation for another time.

He continued his singing until he was interrupted by the sudden stop of the ship grounding. Macari let many of the other sailors leave the ship before he decided to put away his musical instrument and jump from the vessel into the shallow waters below. Oof, that was cold.

Macari swiftly stepped out of the water and made his way onto the shore, not wanting to experience the wet chill any longer. He came to stand by Kol when the booming voice echoed out, stirring his very soul.

A large toothy grin spread onto Macari's face in excitement. It was a rare kind of excitement that he rarely got to experience but was also a feeling that he could not forget. It was the feeling of the cogs of fate beginning to turn once more. The strengths of destiny being stretched to their limit, some would split and sever from the pressure, but a far more glorious tapestry would be left in its wake.

"Oh, the fun begins."

 

[Cahir]

Cahir hopped off the boat, wading through the shallows. The water, icy cold in its unloving embrace, stung at his skin like a mass of angry bees.

A normal man would've found himself swimming comfortably, yet Cahir was no normal man. He, however, could walk comfortably, submerged only waist deep.

The studded jackboots he wore protected his soles from jagged rocks and bits of metal littering the shore.

Metal, he thought. Old and rusted, coroded and eroded heavily by the passage of time. A great number of men must've met their untimely demise here, leaving behind bleached bones.

Bodies, or what remained of them, sprawled across the icy hell as far as the eye could reach. They lay half submerged in a mixture of sand and ice, forever trapped.


"What a hellscape this is," mused Cahir as his long, reptilian tongue flickered, savoring the salty air.

Cahir clenched his fist and chaotic energy began to swirl around it, coagulating into a single shape. It formed a long, single-edged, curved sword, the hilt of which Cahir was squeezing tightly.

Cahir's digits pressed into the alabaster-colored, ergonomic grip, and he let the sword's spine rest against his overdeveloped trapezius muscle.

The crossguard disgorged an aura of supernatural menace. It's bottom shimmered, refracting the rays of sun, bejeweled with a single emerald stone where the pommel should've been.

"Unwanted company?" Cahir half turned, twisting his muscular and corded neck to look at Kol. Cahir's eyes, sharp and inhuman as ever, searched for...no, demanded an answer.

Kol
Macari Longeas

 

[Kol]

Kol tilted his head, as the echo of the voice rang out within the cove. The sound of it, the way that it seemed to drive to the core of his very soul...it felt almost familiar. He frowned for a brief moment, gazing into the abyss that had opened up before them.

The Sorcerer seemed to linger for a moment, glancing over towards the Demon son as a vorpal blade peeled from the ethos of chaos itself. He glanced at the weapon a moment, then to the floor strewn with bone and blades.

Lips thinned.

"Something." He confirmed. "But I think it is we who are unwanted in this place."

Almost as if on queue, the ground beneath them began to stir.

A soft quake at first, the rumble of pebbles shaking and moving around. The ground rocked beneath their feet, shifting as swaths of stone began to rise and fall back to the pebbled beach. From the ground itself rose figures that could only be dubbed a mockery of humanity.

Their 'skin' if it could be called so was white as bone, their hands tipped with long claws, and their faces a strange warp of runes tinged with stones of blue for eyes.

Ten of them pulled themselves up from the beach, and without word or sound they charged.

 

[Jinx]

Macari took a step back in response to moving rocks, being sure to place Cahir and Kol between him and the creatures that arose in front of them.

His face never twisted into fear at the sight of these deformed creatures, but only showcased a curiosity that was impossible to snuff out given the situation.

Macari looked over Cahir and his sword and whistled to show he was impressed. It was lucky that his fellow shipmates seemed capable of handling this problem. He hoped.

"Something." He confirmed. "But I think it is we who are unwanted in this place."

"That's just because we haven't shown them how much fun we are to have around, so be sure to put your best foot forward."

He moved up behind the two and placed a hand on each of their backs. His was a reassuring pat of support from the lithe man who did not seem to be a fighter.

He added just a bit of luck magic to his pat, which might help out the two in battle. Don't say he had never done anything nice for someone.

Kol Cahir

 

[Cahir]

"Bloody hell," rasped Cahir, his voice growing distorted and unnatural upon witnessing the unholy creatures.

"Look at those malformed bastards. Behold, how they shuffle, shamble, and saunter shamelessly in our scandalized sight. "

Cahir's mighty fingers squeezed the hilt like an iron vice, turning his knuckles bone white in the process.

"I suggest a solution!" roared the male, his domineering, borderline monstrous voice exploding outwards like a brazen cacophony.

Cahir shivered deliciously, feeling the smaller man plant a hand onto his rigid, muscle-bound frame.


A smile crept onto his face, unfurling rapidly with each passing second as he addressed the leprechaun.

"Surely, you must agree that such sedition should sour and succumb to us?"

There was little, if any time, to answer as Cahir hurled himself at the eagerly awaited foe. Accelerating suddenly and rapidly, he bounded across the icy ground with impeccable, eye-stinging grace.

In spite of his size, Cahir moved like a bolt of lightning, a living blur of distorted, barely recognizable features.

Cahir did not halt, launching a diagonal cut, bringing his sword down upon the nearest victim like it was the fist of an angry god.


An ear-piercing, metallic screech rang out. The blade struck true, and sparks flew off the monster's hardened hide.

With some effort, Cahir had managed to bisect it from the collar bone to the hip. Cobalt blue blood gushed forth from the severed flesh like a fountain, a geyser of liquid, cutting a vivid arc through the frozen air before being magnified tenfold in the snow around it.

The two halves of the beast slumped to the ground with a wet, resounding thud. The enemy was dead, yet more were to come, closing in on them with unholy fervor.

Kol
Macari Longeas

 

[Kol]

Kol gazed at the hand that settled on his shoulder for a moment, frowning as he sensed the touch if something upon him. Lips thinned for a brief moment, but before he could speak Cahir's voice already rumbled out.

The Sorcerer looked up at the Tiefling, but didn't respond.

Some of the other warriors arrayed behind them seemed to stall, waiting, and then watched as Cahir suddenly charged forward. More than a few eyes fell upon the man as he broke into a sprint. Some letting out whistles as the Tiefling bisected one of the creatures.

"Well?" He regarded the others. "Go."

Hesitation flickered for only a moment more, and then they too rushed forward.

They swarmed like ants, not rumbling across the ground like Titans and engaging the creatures one by one. Instead it was three to one of the strange golums. Hacking, slashing, doing what they could to bring the creatures lows.

One of the monsters however broke through their lines. It trundled towards Kol and Macari, rushing like a bull that had seen red.

The Sorcerer grimaced, black flecks of nothing forming an odd rune covered blade in his hand. The knife swept forward, cutting across the length of his forearm in a deep slice. Blood flowed down his arm almost instantly, crimson pooling on the tips of his fingers.

His hand flicked outward, spatters of blood turning to dark points. They raced through the air, and then impaled through the creature mid stride. A sickening crunch could be heard as metallic flesh parted, and the organs beneath were rent. The monster falling to it's knees with a mewling cry.

Kol watched it die, and then began to walk through the field of battle towards the gate ahead.

 

[Jinx]

Macari had no inclination to go running into the thick of things with everyone else. That really wasn't his style. He was much more of a supportive person. If someone needed some words of encouragement or a well-time analysis then he was your fae.

Nonetheless, the unfolding of this battle brought a smile to his face. Humans fighting was so pathetic to him. There was no grace to it, but it did have that desperate sense that any moment could be your last. It was so ugly. Yet, that was what made it beautiful.

When the creature came running towards him and Kol, he took another step back but did bother at least reaching out towards the water. He never had to do anything, but he was prepared to act if necessary. Thankfully, Kol handled the problem swiftly.

Macari followed after the leader of this band with a leisurely pace. "Excellently done." He complimented the sorcerer before looking back around the battlefield to determine how things were going.

Kol Cahir

 

[Cahir]

Cahir bellowed and raged against the incoming horde, effectively stalling half a dozen of them by the virtue of his blade.

He kept them at bay, pushing them back and away from the allied infantry advancing from the opposite direction.

He watched them battle, their vehemence eclipsed only by their sheer savagery and bloodlust. Ichor spurted, draping the ice in a sticky, viscous layer on which it was easy to slip. Severed limbs flew from both friend and foe alike, and it seemed that neither side could overtake the other.



Focusing most of his efforts on the blade's tip, Cahir raked furrows and gashes across the monster's carapace-clad flesh, leaving little to be desired.

He shoulder-checked one, sending it back into the crowd of its own kin, and then sliced its head clean off with an overhead strike. But where one fell, two more appeared to take its place, equally as large and ferocious as their fallen brethren.

Yet Cahir was relentless, neither tiring nor wavering in his pursuit of carnage.

Lunging once more, he felt the icy wind lash against his weather-beaten skin. It numbed his face, making him squint as he tore through yet another monster.

He gauged for a response from the mutilated foe, but none came, and it infuriated him. Their adversary seemingly fought without making a noise. Even at death's door, the creatures remained unresponsive and wholly devoid of vocation.

The screams of dying men filled his ears, steel crashing against steel, armor crumbling, weapons shattering. It was a sign, the balance of power was tipping, but not in their favor.

A mortal man, a Nordfir warrior, fell mortally wounded just before Cahir's teeth, his entrails hanging out as if a rabid bull had gored him. The dying man wheezed, gripping Cahir's calf with his blood-slicked fingers.

Cahir gave the man no solace, wincing instead, for before death he was throughly powerless.


"What now?" he inquired, his own, bare torso dripping with dark-blue blood that was rapidly drying and oxydizing from the exposure to the harsh, unwelcoming wind.

"What do we do, sorcerer? Do we hack and slash, rip and tear until it is done? Do we regroup? Your men won't live through the engagement if they continue rushing into the thick of it."

Kol
Macari Longeas

 

[Kol]

"So they die." Kol dismissed casually.

Only a handful of these men were his kin, and those of which were should survive. If they did not? Well that fault lay on their own lack of strength.

That was the way of the Dark Gods. The strong survived, the weak were cut down like chaff. It was what his people had believed in for centuries, what had stalled them...but also allowed them to grow so strong. There was one thing Cahir had right though; they could not keep fighting.

A continued battle would see them all ground to dust.

There seemed to be no end of these creatures, and fighting them would be fruitless. So the Sorcerer continued to walk, stepping up to one of the odd golems that Cahir had dismantled. He picked up a piece of it's strange bone, staring down at it.

Bloody fingers wrapped around the thing, his Rune Knife carving small symbols into it's side even as screams echoed out around them. A flash of red light flickered over the bone, and then Kol pulled back his gauntlet ever so slightly. He carved a small line into his skin, the wound not healing this time as blood drew over the bone.

He then tossed the bone to Macari. "Keep this with you."

Kol told the man as he began to repeat the process. As he carved another one of the creatures began to stalk forward, it's steps thundering against the ground, echoing, and shaking the earth as it ran towards the trio. Then The Sorcerer finished his carving.

He threw it to Cahir.

The Creature, stopped almost in an instant, that odd shaped head tilting, and then it's body breaking off as it instead dashed towards a group of nearby mercenaries.

 

[Jinx]

Macari yelped as he caught the bone tentatively with a looking of disgust on his face. He attempted to keep the blood off of his hands, only holding the tip of the bone between two fingers. Macari was not exactly afraid of blood. He had seen plenty of it in his lifetime.

It was the blood magic. He did not hate it, but it just made him uncomfortable. He has seen it used to catastrophic effects but had never been able to get over his unease. It was possible that the magic was just too different from his own and instinctively made him hesitant. Of course, it could also just be that blood tended to leave stains in his clothes.

"Very nice trick, Mr. Kol." Macari said impressed as he looked over to Cahir.

"I suppose it is us, and the rest can figure it out on their own?"

It was a cold and calculation move, but it was the correct one, so Macari could respect it. There was a saying that luck came to those who earned it, and that was partially true. It was a lot easier to push a small pebble over a cliff, than some mountain. The more work one did on their own, the easier that made Macari's job.

"Better get a move on then. Let's the...things enjoy their feast."

Kol Cahir