Private Tales Blood and Steel

[Kol]

"It is unlikely you would survive to see it." The way Kol said it made it clear he was neither threatening her, nor attempting to discount her skill. The words were simply a matter of fact to him, like the flight of a bird or the floating of an apple in water.

The Lost Isles were not a friendly place, even for the Nordwiir. Not a single outsider had made it to the Isles within a thousand years, and memories did not go much farther than that. The waters around the Lost Isles were treacherous, constant storms and shifting rocks made it nigh impossible to cross the sea.

Unless of course the Dark Gods wished you too.

That was of course how Kol was standing here. His people could only leave the Isles when someone like him lead them. Most in the South would call him a Sorcerer, but among his people he was much more. A navigator, a lifeline to the rest of the world.

Rare and blessed by the gods in a wholly different way.

"I can bring you someone." He stated flatly. "...Though I do not know if your city will welcome that."

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miri considered his words the way she wished people would consider her own warnings to sellswords and adventures who thought the Wilds had untapped potential. He knew those lands better than her and so she inclined her head and left the matter at that. Instead she thought on what he said about one of these creatures visiting her in Alliria. Her gaze moved back to the illusion in front of them before she pulled a small face, a mix between a grimace and a bitter smile as if she found the prospect of such imagined reactions amusing.

"In Alliria? Perhaps not. I doubt my horses would be particularly keen either on having one of those so close," which was an issue for her too. Valthar had caused enough unrest with her herd. Then an idea. "However, in the Jungles..." there were uglier things there. Perhaps more dangerous though she would not make such an assumption. She made a noise that suggested it was an interesting idea before returning her gaze to the paper.

"The next question is how you intend to pay."

 

[Kol]

For some reason the question deflated him slightly.

Perhaps for a moment he had believed that passion alone would carry this little project. Money had never meant much to him. He'd never quite understood why his people bothered with it, why they even found it important.

Yet among the Nordwiir gold was nearly as revered as the Dark Gods. Great Hordes of it were taken during the raids, and most of it was stashed away in great burrows on the Lost Isles. "What is it you wish?"

He asked.

"Gold? Reputation? A soul or two?" It was hard to figure out if he was jesting with the latter offer.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel gave him a long side glance and narrowed her eyes slightly. His tone was one of the hardest she had come across to decipher sarcasm.

"Gold... is fine," she slowly took her eyes off of him and then glanced back with a frown again as if still trying to figure out what exactly he had meant by a soul or two. Probably safer not to ask if they were going to be working together. "Or..." now. She had asked Valthar about this before but he hadn't had any idea on the matter. Kol seemed like someone who might have ways.

"Do you guys use Solstal Steel too?" It was a metal she had wanted to at least use once to see how it worked and what made it so special.

 

[Kol]

"Gold will not be a problem." Though he would have to dig some up when he ventured back home.

The Dark Gods would undoubtedly look favorably upon this, and taking from his own burrows would not be an affront to them. Though it would likely displease some members of his tribe.

"Solstal?" His head cocked to the side, and for the first time in what seemed like horus a new chesire grin appeared. This one opened wide, a whisper escaping it's teeth and reaching his ear. "No."

He spoke over the whispers. "There are no metals on the Lost Isles save for those which fall from the Sky."

Which occurred frequently due to the blessings of the Dark Gods.

Kol's eyes changed to that same blank white, his hand outstretching for a moment as his fingers slowly curled on themselves. Flecks of nothing began to appear, and slowly they structured themselves into a Runed Knife of complete black.

"Like so." The fallen metal was magic in it's own way of course, though he guessed different than Solstal.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

She would be lying if she said she wasn't disappointed about the Solstal Steel but she was a patient woman. Perhaps in one of the many centuries to come she would get her chance to mould the steel of the Nordenfiir or at least study it. However, this new metal was equally as interesting. She had seen meteor rocks before and had worked with a few of them but there always tended to be a hint of colour to them, a dark red or a dark green or blue. This was pure darkness. In fact, it almost seemed to eat the light that touched it. Gold was what most people paid her with and she had plenty of that, what she enjoyed was things such as this that she could get nowhere else.

"If you give me enough of this metal to make two blades I will consider that sufficient payment for five suits like this," she tapped her parchment. "If you want more we can discuss further payments. You never know maybe I will find something in this metal that might help," she chewed on her lip thoughtfully as she stared at the illusion.

 

[Kol]

The metals which fell from the sky were special in their own way. The Dark Gods had taught his people to use them, and he suspected that their methods would go against some of Miriel's sensibilities.

That was his experience in the past. "This can be done."

Whether or not she could use the metals or not didn't really matter to him. His people utilized sacrifice in order to work the metals. The death of an innocent was required to forge a blade such as his. The metal had to be quenched in blood, and the metal retained it's quality only through death.

He did not know if this was the work of the gods, or something else entirely.

"In six months time a river will be forged through the Blightlands." He said this as if it were simple fact. "I can use this to reach the Jungles."

He glanced at her. "Will you meet me there?"

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

"A river... through the Blightlands?" Miriel's attention snapped back to him and away from her page as he spoke. The people of the Wilds would not take too kindly to such a thing appearing to make it easier to travel between the two lands. It would definitely lead to increased war. Her brow knitted into a frown at the thoughts of what that would mean for her own people. Would her mother demand for her return early? It was an uncomfortable thought. She was not ready to go home just yet.

"Yes... I can meet you," the blacksmith spoke slowly as if she were still deliberating on the matter in her mind but then she nodded more firmly. "I will need to check that you will be... welcome in my city. My people are not keen on outsiders but if they see the profit..."

 

[Kol]

He smiled. "This I can relate to."

Though it was near impossible to reach the Lost Isles, it had happened before. The few outsiders who made it to the Isles more often than not ended up as corpses.

That was the way of his people, as it was with his cousins as well.

"There is a mountain." He said with a frown. "It sits on an island in the middle of the Drawa."

There were no cities there, nor towns. The island was supposed to be haunted, the death of an ancient king or some such. "I can meet you there."

It was as good a landmark as any.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miri didn't think she had actually seen him smile for their entire day together as of yet, he gave off a very serious vibe at least to her. She could appreciate it to a certain extent; he clearly had an agenda and a mission even if he seemed vague on the particulars of it. But even still it was nice to see there were some emotions there other than that drive, made him a little more human little less random creepy stranger she had paid her dues of hospitality forward to.

"Yes, I know of it. It's right near a portal stone I believe," she got up from where they were sat side by side and then wandered back over to her saddle and the bags there to put her sketches away. "Are your men... feral in this form like a werewolf or do they communicate?" It would help to know what exactly she was going to be taking back to her home.

 

[Kol]

Kol was not aware of that fact, but a whisper was quickly accompanied with her words to confirm. A smile touched his face again.

Things were becoming quite convenient during this venture. "He will be able to speak with you"

The answer was once again vague, but Kol did not know how else to put it in the common tongue. The Skinwolves were things of rampage and blood, but Sorcerers like himself could dull their senses enough to keep them compliant.

He would have to use his own magics to ensure that the Skinwolf could speak with Miriel, but it would be doable.

If the Dark Gods allowed.

"Their transformation is different than my Kin's, but I will aid in this." Something he had never attempted before, yet the advantages in this were too great not to try.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

"It is less pleasant conversation I am worried about having, more ensuring he doesn't go on a rampage through my city. But if you can control him..." she sat back down by the fire for warmth. Even in the summer time this far West it was nowhere near as warm as her home and thus she felt the cold. "My people will not appreciate a rare guest being allowed admittance only to go mauling and maiming through the streets." They would also likely kill the thing and then Miriel would have to deal with the situation that followed that; war. A soft sigh.

Not yet, she wanted a few more centuries before she returned for that.

"How exactly is it different? I've seen a Nordenfiir transform, but it would be good to know how it is different for the sake of the armour."

 

[Kol]

"There will be no rampage." He could at least guarantee that. The Skinwolf he chose would likely never be the same, but...sometimes that was the price that had to be paid.

What was one man's free will for the reward of true freedom of their people?

Her second question made him frown for a second, mostly because he was not entirely sure how to answer it. He had seen a Nordenfiirs Svalen many times before, but he was no scholar on the subject.

"I cannot be entirely sure." Kol said with a frown. "As far as I am aware the only difference in the transformation is where the ability comes from. Other than that, it seems to be exactly the same."

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miri squinted at him over the fire trying to determine if it was the truth he spoke and that he didn't know or if he was being evasive. It could have also been both, she guessed.

"And where exactly does your magic come from?" she would have had to have been blind not to see the scars on his arms even if she had chosen to ignore them and his face wasn't exactly much better. Even if he had faced a million wars she couldn't think him to be that bad of a fighter and yet still walk. Her brain screamed blood magic of a kind, which she bore in mind for the metal, but she had met other blood mages with nowhere near the number of scars he possessed.

 

[Kol]

"The Gods." He had often found that labeling the Dark Gods as they called themselves was foolish. People did not want to be objective, and thus the term simply had to be...amended.

"Once we were like our Kin." Kol began. "One and the same, many say, but we traveled north to the Lost Isles in search of something more."

The whispers began against as he continued.

"There we found the Gods. They gave us our gifts, and in return we gave up our Svalen." That was what they said at least.

"Therein lies the difference." He explained. "A Nordenfiir's transformation comes from within. A Nordwiir's comes from the Gods."

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

"What can be given can be taken away..." Miriel said the words almost to herself as she watched the flames dance. She fed it another log and asked the next question that rose to her mind now she had started down this track. "And what do you have to offer these Gods in order to keep your magic?" it sounded... like they had given up their souls in return for these 'blessings'. At least, Valthar had described the Svalen as his soul and if his kind could not perform this transformation... surely it meant something twisted had happened inside there then?

 

[Kol]

"Just as you must offer to every god." That was of course the kinder way of saying it.

Though just as he uttered the words half a dozen chesire grins appeared all around them. They whispered and spoke, the sound of their words resounding within his skull so loudly that he could barely block them out.

Some demanded he kill her, others asked that he convert, and still others commanded him to run away. The sound of them was pure discord, and it was all that he could do to speak.

"For some of us it is battle." More often than not that satiated most demands. "For others like myself..."

Kol trailed off, motioning to his scars.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel studded his face as she waited for the answer to her question. It was almost like he was... in pain for having to answer her and his voice sounded strained. It was almost instinctive to pick up her blade again and begin to sharpen it once more. She would respect her own code of hospitality but if he made move to cause her harm well she would have no qualms sending him on to his Gods.

"I see," her eyes ran over the scars once more. "And what do these Gods look like to you? Or are they like the Humans Gods who you only see once you are dead?"

 

[Kol]

His eyes closed for a second as he tried to concentrate. Blocking out the voices was never easy. He called them whispers, but they were more like an avalanche slowly falling down a mountain.

"They are all different." Kol had seen a few of them in the flesh, though each encounter had nearly seen the flesh stripped from his bones. "Some take the form of the Giant Frost Wyrms."

He took a breath and opened his eyes. "Others prefer the visage of the Great Krakens."

Kol remembered the latter well. On his first Voyage to the Blightlands, Merre'loth had dragged him from his dreams and into the sea. The Dark God had offered him a bargain; safe passage through every storm in return for the death of a man that was not a man.

The Sorcerer had accepted.

"They are fickle beings, and many prefer to take on simpler forms." He glanced towards one of the grins.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

Miriel's people had many words for such creatures but none of them were God. She pressed her lips together slightly and stroked the whetstone down the length of the metal of her blade as she thought about what he described, and then the way he was acting. Her people had never really had a religion. They held nature in high regard and left offerings to spirits or creatures that the naked eye could not see in order for their home to keep flourishing, but she had never heard them describe them as Gods. She would never either.

"And... are they here now?" she was choosing her words and questions carefully. Miri wanted to learn more - needed to if she was to welcome them into her home - but she did not want to cause offence. It was a fine line to walk.

 

[Kol]

He chuckled. "Don't be ridiculous."

The Chesire grins all seemed to widen as he spoke, though their whispers fell into sudden and complete silence.

"Their appearance is not as simple as such." He said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "If they were hear you would know it."

Among the Nordwiir it was most often argued that the Dark Gods could not take true physical shape, that Arethil itself would sunder into pieces if they walked here. That was why the Nordwiir existed in the first place, to act in place of the Gods.

Perhaps that was why he saw the cheshire grins.

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

A laugh was not what she was expecting but it made her lips curl slightly at one corner. At least she hadn't caused offence with her questioning.

"It is a shame. I have walked the earth for nearly three centuries but I have yet to meet a God," it would definitely be an experience. Whether it was a pleasant one or not she wasn't entirely sure, but that didn't deter her. Another swipe of the whetstone down her blade. "How do you know that you are doing what they want if they're not here with you? Do you have... scriptures like the humans you consult and live by?" She paused for a moment then glanced up. "You don't have to answer these questions if you do not want to, I know faith is important to people. I'm just... curious. We do not have anything like this amongst my kind."

 

[Kol]

"Because I can feel their blessings." The words were once again cryptic, but it was the only way he knew how to speak of it.

Kol felt no shame for his gods, he was what he was because of them. This entire trek had been brought about because of them. There was no denying that fact.

"Without their blessing I am but a man." That was what he had accepted all those nights ago, when he had undergone is rite. When he had taken the name of Twice Bloodied. "Stronger than most, taller."

He smiled. "But still just a man."

"With them I can do so much more." He gestured to the illusion. "I have been stabbed through the heart twice. My arm has been torn from my body, and I have survived weeks without food or water."

Kol flexed his fingers. "Without them this would not be possible."

 

[Míriel Fëanorna]

"Right..." another sssshhhrp as the stone ran down her blade. Could they be Fae? Were those his Gods? She had never encountered them herself but her people told stories of the high faes powers in particular. They gave boons in return for fealty and devotion much like what he spoke of. Or was there really something darker up in the Lost Isles?

"It is interesting to hear how other people discover magic. It is just... an inherent part of the elfish way of life that it ... you sometimes forget that other people are given things by different means," she was always amazed by what humans could do with magic in truth when they had to work so much harder for it. Studying sounded like a tedious method of learning something that was to Miri akin to breathing.

 

[Kol]

"It would be simple to take those gifts for granted." Kol said quickly, frowning slightly at the idea of simply being given something from birth.

The Nordwiir had to fight for what was theirs. Even the blessings of the Gods, even what they could do at birth...it did not simply remain unless they strove to keep it. There was nothing given to them, nothing handed away.

His people had to work for what they had.

A whisper entered his mind, and in that moment he could not help but wonder what Miriel would do if he peeled the magic from her soul.