Private Tales Blood and Steel

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel hummed in understanding. Learning she could appreciated; it was what she had been doing for the last 150 years of her life. It made even more sense that he go to Alliria in her mind if that were truly his aim. Perhaps even Elbion for information. For a while they continued in silence until she could take the question no more.

"Is there anything in particular you are hoping to learn?" She had had an aim at least, passions to direct her. He had seemed lost in the elfish woods which said to her he didn't know what it was he wanted. Of course this could be a very, very elaborate ruse. If he did know what he wanted but didn't know where to find it, perhaps she could at least help with that.

 

[Kol]

The quesiton was not an easy one to answer, not the least because Kol actually had no idea what he was even looking for.

Whispers were leading him. The words of the Dark Gods hinted and coaxed him forward, driving him to discover new things and see the world as he never had before. Even now he could hear them, a press at the back of his mind.

Some told him to kill her, others to bleed her dry, and still others to just keep talking. It was an orchestra of mayhem, and Kol had to struggle to simply answer. "Whatever it is will bring my people back to life."

He said poetically.

"We have been stuck in our way for too long." Kol wanted to break the mould. "I want to bring us out of that."

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel mulled on his words as they lapsed once more into silence. It was a valiant aim of course but it was a difficult one too. People did not always want to be brought into the modern age. As someone who had watched years go buy, lifetimes upon lifetimes, what seemed to amaze people when they pressed her for answers was that not much changed. Humans in particular were resistant to it unless it benefited them in some way or another which is what she felt like Kol was after. Alliria was home to many things but she wasn't entirely sure if he would find answers to that question and need there. It might even make them worse.

Once she was certain Thorlion had had enough time to stretch out his legs at a walk she nudged him back into a canter.

The sun was getting low when she finally pulled them to a complete stop and slid from her horses back, giving him a loving pat and scratch. He leaned into it and then nuzzled at her face before she turned to her guest.

"We'll make camp here for tonight," It was a small little ticket of trees that created a crescent shape. There was a faint mark on one of the trees that when Miriel touched glowed. "It is warded from Dreadlords," because they were near the edge of the forests now and these were harsher lands for elves. She set about building up the old remains of a fire. Clearly this was a regular spot for travelling elves.

 

[Kol]

His glance flickered to the ward for a moment. "What makes the ward specific?"

Kol did not truly understand this southern magic just yet. From what he could tell the people here were born with their gifts. The Dreadlord certainly had been, and it must have been the same way with some of the others.

The Sorcerer stepped forward and through the ward.

"I met some of these 'Dreadlords' before I traveled South." An understatement truthfully. "What makes them so different than any other mage?"

Kol suspected it was the magic of these lands that would allow him to bring his people forth, though whether that came from Dreadlords or something else he did not yet know. Zana had turned him to the Elves, but he had yet to taste those souls.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

"Perhaps saying Dreadlords was a bit too specific, it hides those inside the glade to human mages. This close to Vel Anir that pretty much just means Dreadlords," Miriel blew into the sparks she cast on the kindling and soon the flames crawled upwards to lick up the length of the branches and logs she had carefully stacked over the kindling. Content it wouldn't die she stood and then turned her attention to Thorlion to untack him. The horse wondered off to graze and she used the saddle as a back rest to lean against by the fire.

"Dreadlords are made," Miri chewed on a bit of jerky she had in her pack and offered him a bit. She was still full from the large meal she had had before she had left her Kin and would survive a few days without needing to hunt for her meal. "They're taken as small children sometimes even babes, broken and then remade. They are living weapons. They seem to specialise in a skill as they get older but they learn a whole range of spells designed for the battlefield. The main issue however is that they are completely loyal to Vel Anir and humans, everyone else they could quite happily crush on their boot and they do - frequently. I once met one who collected elf ears on a necklace. They're quite a formidable force."

 

[Kol]

He considered the words for a few moments, smiling slightly as she mentioned loyalty. It was interesting to see these Dreadlords from a different point of view. Especially one that should have hated them as much as they hated her.

With a thankful nod of his head Kol took some of the food. "I see."

These southerners were strange in their ways, but he supposed that the same could be said of the Nordwiir others in the Tundra.

"And your people, Elves are more..." How did he put this? The common tongue was so difficult. "Naturally gifted?"

It fit what Zana had told him, and might be why she had thought their souls were...more.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel considered his comment and then nodded.

"Yes I would say so, or at least we seem to find it easier than humans do anyway. I've not met many elves who don't have a connection to some sort of magic. Different types of elves have different specialities of magic. For example there are elves in the Blightlands that are in tune with lunar magic, there are sand elves that can cast illusions and are quite resistant to high heats, there are the Avariel who have wings..."

Miriel shook her head for she could not list them all. "There are many of us but we are perhaps not a common sight anymore. Elves are arrogant and they had their Age where their power was high, it is in decline at the moment," not that it seemed to bother her in the slightest.

 

[Kol]

Kol nodded his head in acceptance of these words. He supposed that it made sense. An elder race would have the time to grow arrogant, comfortable in their ways.

"How interesting." In another life Kol might have labeled himself a scholar and been happy with these little moments of learning. If it were enough to silence the Dark Gods he would wander the earth from place to place and simply...know things.

The grin over Miriel's shoulder however told him there would be no such luck.

A frown touched his face for a brief moment, and slowly he shook his head.

"There are legends of such things among my people." He said as an offer of shared knowledge. "Beings who could hold entire raiding parties with only a bow."

A bemused expression crossed his feature. "I suppose there is something humbling to that notion."

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

A look of amusement cross Miri's face at the comment as she played with a bit of the jerky and ripped it up into smaller bits. Legends were all that the elves were now really. She thought of her own people and the ways of their fighting and didn't see much differences in those Kol shared with her. Most elves now preferred a more peaceful existence, one of learning even, but she could never imagine her people laying down their arms.

"You call them legends, I call them my mother," she snorted a little. "Is it magic then that you believe will drive your people forward or are you looking for ways to ensure the next time you do a raid your legends do not become a nasty reality?" She had heard of northern raiders as far south as the Blightlands and they were close to the Wilds after all, if they strayed too far into those parts there was no telling what nasty creatures of myth they might stumble onto.

 

[Kol]

He mused for a second, glancing briefly over the Elf's shoulder to stare at the Grin that hung in the air.

"Both, perhaps." Kol did not want to raid, he wanted something more. A part of him doubted that the Gods would ever release the Lost Isles. Always they would be shrouded in mist, always they would sink ships seeking them.

The Nordwiir had to move.

"My people have magic." It was drawn from the Dark Gods, but it was still there all the same. "But it is...different. I believe these lands have something to offer that will change things."

The soul he had already taken would help, but it was not enough. Not by far.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel's brows knitted together as she thought over what he said. Thorlion would not have let him on his back if he possessed the type of magic Valthar had so she was not sure what exactly it was their 'cousins' used instead. It didn't sound like it was a magic he especially... liked. Though of course she could be misreading his tone. Her ears twitched slightly at a sound beyond the ring but all it was was a small fox seeking the stream for a drink. She relaxed back against the saddle.

"Well I hope Alliria helps you with your hunt. If you need a horse for your journey on or any weapons I'm afraid that's all I'll be able to help you with," she shrugged.

 

[Kol]

"Oh you have helped more than you could know." He stated with a smile.

Alliria in truth did not interest him half as much as the other elven settlements that she had mentioned. There was little he could take from a place of man that he could not have gotten on one raid or another.

No, he would have to venture back into these woods before long.

Briefly he considered killing her now. The Dark Gods would have liked her as a sacrifice, but there was something that kept him hand.

Perhaps it was the gaze of that horse. "Have you ever been to the north?"

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel slowly raised an eyebrow at his comment but she didn't ask how exactly she had helped. She probably didn't want to know the answer so she elected to keep quiet. The question, however, caught her completely off guard. She slowly drew her sword, took out her cleaning blocks and began to work on the metal. It didn't particularly need doing but it was something to keep her hands busy in these twilight hours.

"No I haven't - the closest I've got are the Blightlands. It is somewhere I want to go though. I recently met one of your cousins and I have been resting some armour for their bear forms, it would be interesting to see if it would be of any use to them at all. I also just like to pick up different forging techniques from different lands. The... reputation for Southerners not being very welcome has put me off in the past I must admit."

Miri ran the whetstone down the blade.

"It feels a rather odd coincidence to meet two men from the North so close to one another in time."

 

[Kol]

Kol narrowed his eyes slightly, a frown touching his face for just a brief moment.

The fact that she commented on the oddity of meeting two from the Tundra mirrored his own thoughts. He hardly ever heard of Nordenfiir venturing south, much less this far. Was it a similar quest to his own? No. The Dark Gods did not whisper to his kin.

"Armor?" For the Svalen? Now that was something which certainly piqued his interest. His own people could still turn, though it was much less...controlled. "Now that would certainly be something."

He mused for a second, then continued. "Perhaps it is fate, the work of the Gods."

A shrug rolled over his shoulder.

"Would you tell me more of this armor?" Kol asked.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

"I'm not sure I believe in Gods per se..." she kept her eyes on the blade as she ran the stone down it in slow rhythmic motions. Not Gods. Spirits, yes, strong creatures even that would appear like Gods to mortals, definitely yes, but Gods in the sense most spoke of them? Her brows knitted together over her thoughts though it might have looked more like an expression of concentration. She debated telling him, after all she didn't know if the Nordenfiir were actually allies with these 'cousins' - it would not pay to give away her secrets fully to them if she wished to sell to them.

"I am working on a way that the armour can easily be put on when they change forms - I understand at the moment that if they are wearing it when they do change then it becomes a part of the bear, but something they should slip on whilst in bear form might offer them an advantage," she put down the stone and picked up another block to do a lighter sand of the metal.

 

[Kol]

He didn't react to her disbelief. In his time Kol had met many who would deny the existence of the Gods.

Should things turn sour, she would meet them soon enough.

"I see." He said with no small amount of interest. "My people hold a different gift than that of our kin."

Kol began to explain. "Some still retain the ability to change, but the form is not exactly the same as that of our cousins."

He leaned back.

"Still, armor would be useful." The skinwolves rampaged and slaughter in battle, if they could have some added protection it would help them survive. A lesson that he'd learned in the Blightlands.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel listened with interest and the movement of her stone against the blade came to a slow stop as she considered the magics he spoke of and how they might work with metal. Out of habit she chewed the inside of her lip.

"Hm," was all she said for a moment, her hands completely still. Then she set her things aside and turned to her saddle bags and pulled a few pieces of plain parchment from it and a piece of charcoal with which to sketch with. "Are you bears to - do you have the ability to shift? It would be helpful if I could have actual measurements but I can probably work up a prototype for you if you like."

 

[Kol]

"They shift." He confirmed, though added no other detail yet. Offering the details would likely just make her question more whom he was speaking to.

For a few seconds he considered, wondering how best to go about this.

"I can offer..." He mused. "A representation."

Kol did not have the ability to shift himself. His gift from the Dark Gods had been a different one all-together, but that gift would allow him to at least show Miriel an approximation of which he spoke.

Slowly he began to pull up his tattered sleeve, revealing dozens upon dozens of scars.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel's eyes drifted to his arm briefly before returning with more interest to her page. It was already clear he was some sort of warrior so the scars mattered little to her. She was already writing down a few notes about what she had already on the armour that might be able to be transferred across to this project. In truth what she needed was to take measurements herself and see how exactly the shift worked in order to make a proper assessment.

"Sure if you can that would be great I can take some proper measurements and..." she paused for a moment and glanced up. "This representation doesn't mean turning myself or my horse into whatever it is you want to show me does it?" she quirked a brow. She had seen enough magic in her centuries to ask these questions now.

 

[Kol]

"No. I'm afraid I don't have that ability." At least, not that he knew.

The gifts of the Dark Gods were often interwoven with dozens of different aspects. For all he knew he could do such a thing but simply had never tried. A brief frown flashed over his face, but he shook his head and decided now was not the time.

It was something to keep in mind though.

"I can craft an..." He reached up and bit the tip of his tongue until blood showed, then quickly smeared it over one of the scars. At first nothing happened, then an off glow erupted from the scar. "Illusion."

That was the best term for it.

Before he said anything else, something within the air shimmered and Kol's eyes went completely white. An image began to form, a monstrous figure that appeared to be a mixture of bear, wolf, and man. It stood nearly ten feet tall, muscular, and with beady red eyes.

The illusion was not a true representation of the skinwolves, they appeared far more monstrous, but Kol decided to hide that fact.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miri wasn't sure she was exactly disappointed that he couldn't turn her or Thorlion into a creature of apparent nightmares so she merely made a noise of mock disappointment to his comment. It was a curious thing watching other peoples magics so it drew her attention from her parchment and her work, which was a rarity for the smith.

Throughout her travels she had seen a lot of things. The Ixchel Wilds were home to some of the worst monsters imaginable, but even she flinched when the illusion appeared. She had been expecting something more similar to a Svalen form.

"Well," Miri there wasn't much more she could say about it in truth. But she wouldn't let it stop her doing a job so she stood up and walked around it whilst making notes. "Does it work the same way as your cousins? That everything you carry goes into the transformation?"

 

[Kol]

"Yes." As far as he knew the transformation was pretty much exactly the same as that of his cousins.

He had never studied the Svalen, though he had seen them more than a dozen times. The same went for that of the skinwolves. The whispered of the Dark Gods had told him that it was near exactly the same, the only difference being where the power came from.

The Dark Gods were not to be trusted of course, but some things even they did not lie about.

"There are a few differences, as I'm sure you can tell." He had left out the more monstrous parts of the transformation, but that would not effect the armor. "But in many ways are still the same."

As he spoke he watched her with interest.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

"The form doesn't matter so much as the way the transformation works," Miri said absentmindedly, her attention was almost entirely on the illusion in front of her rather than the conversation. After a while of getting a quick sketch of the form itself and a few even rougher ones from different angles she moved to her saddle bag and took out a tape measure. She walked back around and took a few notes here and there before nodding and then coming to sit beside him.

"So," Miri was sketching as she spoke, pausing every now and then to point to the bit she meant. "The problem with the transformation is making it work so that the armour doesn't get pulled in to it. It would take a powerful enchantment and even then... it would take a lot of tweaking. But. Armour that perhaps is easy to wear in both human form, can be easily removed, then alters when it is put back on in the transformation form... that could work. Do you see what I mean?" she looked up at him. The excitement of a craftsman with a hard project in front of her was clear in her gaze.

 

[Kol]

"Yes, I follow." Kol said as he nodded his head.

The idea of this was nearly invaluable. Nordwiir rarely utilized armor in battle. Only a few would bother with the weight of it, but he could convince them easily enough with a display of the advantages that could be had.

Especially if they could keep it while transformed.

"Would it be easier if you had a living subject?" He wondered. "Testing this I imagine will become...complicated."

Of course that could create some questions, but the woman seemed curious enough to ignore those.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

"It would definitely be easier, yes," Miri nodded as she added a few more notes. Written in Elfish scripture it probably looked like nonsense to him. "I know your cousins do not particularly like the Southern lands though. Perhaps if I make a prototype I can add your settlement to my Northern expedition in the next few months or so," it would be easier to make the majority of it in her own forge where she knew the tools and the lay of the land. Any tweaks however she would probably be able to manage at whatever forges they possessed or with her magics. The thought gave her pause.

"Do you have forges? Smithies?"