Fable - Ask Lunacy and Heretics

[Sif]

​

The long forgotten ruins of the ancient temple was the closest thing to a home Sif had in the Lost Isles. Fritjof had brought her to the shelter of the crumbling walls when she'd been just a child. It was here that the Unworthy castaway had been raised under the watchful gaze of a Dark God and his followers. These days, the isolated temple served as one of just a few sacred sites that stood in Fritjof's name. It was a place of worship and study to those who knew of its existence.

As the Dark God's influence grew, so too did his following. There were some who clung Fritjof's teachings with such dogmatic fanaticism that Sif considered them to be little more than cultists. They had taken to roving the tundra in packs, espousing what they claimed to be prophetic visions of the future while proclaiming that they could clearly see what Fate intended.

All of which was lies and madness.

Sif exhaled a heavy breath as she gazed down at the temple at the bottom of the cliffside. It had been years since she'd last visited her old home, but this return was not a cause for celebration. Fritjof had made it clear to those who followed him: only Sif was gifted with the vision. She was the only one to be trusted with interpreting the tangled web of the potential futures.

Why the Dark God had chosen her, she didn't know, but that did not change her situation. Fritjof had his reasons and that was enough for her.

She'd been summoned to the temple to remind the cultists of their place and to put a stop to their delusions.

A rider approached her through the deep snow, his hardy mount trotting up the path with little difficulty. The man seated on the back of the horse was a familiar face, Torrin, the man who'd raised her. His once dark hair was now streaked with grey, and his face was etched with age and new scars. Nevertheless, he was as imposing a figure as she remembered when he swung his legs out of the saddle and dismounted. "It is good to see you again, little fox."

Sif smiled broadly at the man, rising to her feet to make her way over to him. As they clasped each other's shoulders in greeting, she answered him. "And it's good to see you too, y'old goat."

He took the reins of his mount in hand and then gestured towards the temple with a broad sweep of his other arm. "Were that your visit was not for such... lunacy. I've recalled what men I could, but there are still a few 'patrols' as they call them roaming the foothills."

"Patrols?" She asked with a puzzled expression, falling into step alongside Torrin.

"Yes. Young Gorik, you might remember him, has gone..." His words trailed off, searching for the correct phrase to the describe the situation. "Gorik claims to have the Sight and has accumulated a small following that believes his nonsense. They scour the tundra and slaughter anyone they come across, declaring it the will of the Gods. Fate."

Sif's features contorted as she frowned, dropping her gaze to the snow covered path. It seemed things were in far worse shape than she initially believed.

"This cannot stand, Father. It goes against everything Fritjof has built, everything he teaches." She muttered, shaking her head, anger in her words.

A large hand gripped her shoulder and Torrin dipped his head in understanding. "That is why I called you here, my child. You're the one to set the matter straight and guide them back to the path."

Sif paused in the courtyard, tonguing the inside of her cheek. She could feel Fritjof's presence hanging in the air. He was watching her, waiting to see what choice she would make. Her gaze turned toward the gnarled tree that stood in the center of the courtyard, staring at one of the low hanging branches for a moment. There was a shadow perched on the branch that only she could see.

"Take me to Gorik." She said sternly, clicking her tongue as she looked back to Torrin.

"He is still gone with one of the patrols--" Torrin started to explain, but Sif cut him off.

"Then bring me a horse. I will deal with him myself."

 

[Ivar]

Ivar had lived on the outskirts of Kjos his entire life.

Since his fathers exile there had never been any other way for him. Miles from the city, out alone in the Tundra with just a single hut. That had been his way, their way for the longest of times. Every now and again someone would join them, someone from the town or a trader from far away, but usually they were left alone.

That was what Ivar had been used to, until he'd met Braum anyway. The man had been his friend for a decade now, IVar having saved his life on a hunt when they were both boys. Since then they had been thick as thieves, and so when Ivar had told him he was leaving Braum had decided he was coming with.

"Won't be back for a while, ya know." Ivar told the other man as they pulled on their packs and shifted.

They would have to travel south to the port of Grell through the Tundra itself, but neither man had much issue with such a journey.

"I know, but that's what an adventure is about. Isn't it?"​

Ivar looked at his friend with a smirk, nodding his head as the opened the door to the Hut, glancing back one last time on his childhood home. It was all but empty now, nothing remaining that he could not have carried. Most of it had been stashed in abandoned caves, a few pieces traded off, some he carried with.

He wondered when he would see this place again. "Then lets go."

Ivar said to his friend, clasping Braum on the shoulder as they set out into the Tundra.

 

[Sif]

Ivar and Braum's journey across the tundra would begin smoothly enough. It wouldn't be until they stopped to make camp for the night that they would realize something was amiss. A heavy silence had settled over the landscape, as if the world was holding its breath.

A single man would slither out from the shadows and step into their campsite. His beard was patchy and the man was surprisingly small. Were it not for the unkempt beard, it was entirely possible that someone would have mistaken him for a woman. He wore a black sash over his left eye, his single eye glittered in the firelight as he moved forward.

"Evenin' travelers." He said with a crooked grin.

 

[Ivar]

Fingers fled over knives as the person approached their camp.

People in the Tundra were not, generally speaking, unfriendly. They tried to work with one another, help when they could and in general keep things civil. There was a sort of...togetherness, a spirit of working with one another.

It had to be that way in the harsh cold. "Greetings."

Ivar was the one who spoke up, though Braum was usually the more easy going of the two of them. The two young men of Kjos looked up at their guest, fingers tight around their blades where they would be hidden from view.

"Are you lost?" He asked. "The Tundra can be confusing at night."

During the day too, but he did not want to insult the man.

 

[Sif]

A strange, knowing smile spread over the man's lips at Ivar's question. His head tilted to the side and he gestured towards the two men. "It is not I who is lost, my son, but the two of you."

As he moved further into the camp, the odd man seemed to almost skip and a delighted chortle escaped his lips, almost as though he was giggling with excitement.

While Gorik and his men had been roaming the tundra for some time, it was a rare treat for them to actually find anyone. Coming across Ivar and Braum, on the night that their high priestess was returning no less, was surely a sign from Fritjof himself that they were on the right path.

"Tell me... do you know what path you follow? Do you know where it will lead?"

 

[Ivar]

Ivar visibly tensed.

There were few people in the Tundra who talked like that, and most of them were not of the sort that he would usually trust. His glance cast over towards Braum for just a second, their gazes matching almost completely as they looked up towards the man.

"Aye." He answered. "I know what path I'm on."

On way away from the Tundra, one that would lead to something new. One that was of his own choosing and not of the Nobility that had exiled his father.

"Hopefully to gold and women."​

Braum chuckled awkwardly, his shoulders shrugging as his fingers tightened on the knife slightly.

If the man came any closer...Ivar knew that there would be violence. There was something off about him, something that he couldn't quite put into words. Yet he felt an unease rolling over his skin, one that made him want to lash out.

 

[Sif]

The man's grin only widened at Braum's response, pointing a finger excitedly at the man. There was a frightening glint in the man's single dark eye. His laughter turned to a cackle and he held out his hands as if inviting the heaven's themselves to rejoice.

"To gold and women, says he!" The man laughed boisterously.

All around their camp, movement rustled in the trees. More men dressed in dark furs crept to the edges of their campsite.

"No, no. There is no gold or women waiting for you, I am afraid. I have seen your path's end this night."

 

[Ivar]

Ivar looked around, and all he could do was tighten his fingers even further on the blade in his hand.

His father had taught him how to fight, he had even taken part in a few battles around the Tundra. Yet he knew the folly of fighting outnumbered. Lips thinned for a moment, and the Barbarian glanced over towards his friend whom he knew had the exact same thought as he.

"We don't want any trouble." His muscles tensed as he spoke, knowing what answer would come already.

This man, these men...whoever they were did not come here to be allies, friends. He took a deep breath, and as the man stood there and his friends approached, Ivar lurched forward.

With one quick swipe he drew his knife forward and attempted to cut across the mans throat.

 

[Sif]

The campsite erupted into a storm of violence. All of the intruders descended upon the pair that fought to defend themselves. Ivar's blade bit into the man's cheek, blood spilling onto the white snow at their feet. The violence seemed to delight the one-eyed man all the more. He cackled with excitement and rushed towards Ivar, aiming to knock the exile onto his back.

Braum would be swarmed by three other men, already binding his wrists as they dragged him down into the snow.

"Get them down!" Gorik shouted, wrestling with Ivar over control of the blade.



Sif's head snapped up at the sound of battle clashing out through the silence of the night, reining in the horse. Her cloak swirled around her shoulders, the wind pulling her towards the sound of the fighting. She clicked her tongue and dug her heels into the horse's side. "Yah!"

The horse bolted through the snow, charging ahead.

 

[Ivar]

"Braum!" Ivar called after his friend as the man was pounced on by a trio of men, bound faster than he could fight even as his knife flicked across the flesh of one of his attackers.

The care he took for his friend however was met with a surprise blow.

As the stranger rushed forward in a hard tackle Ivar only had time to half turn back. He felt the man's weight crash into him with a solid 'oof', his hand tightening on his knife so that the blade did not go flying from his fingers. The two of them crashed to the ground, Ivar crashing down with a crunch of snow.

His head jerked forward in an instance, a ferocious roar escaping his throat as he tried to headbutt the stranger in the face and break his nose.

The knife in his hand turned in an instant, blade spinning so that he held it downward, flicking forward to stab into the Strangers back as the Barbarian tried desperately to free himself so that he could help his friend.

He fought with no reason, no plan, no strategy.

Ivar was like an animal caught in a trap, wild, untamed. Snapping and falling into a frenzy as he attempted his escape.

 

[Sif]

Once Braum had been overwhelmed and swiftly dealt with, the man on top of Ivar suddenly scrambled off of him. Blood dripped from the wounds he received but there was a madness in his one-eyed gaze. "Fate has... spoken!" He wheezed through the wound, gesturing towards the now bound Braum.

The wind picked up, biting and frigid in the night. Trees swayed beneath the brunt of the wind, wood groaning and cracking in the silence that had fallen over the campsite.

A sharp blade appeared at Ivar's throat.

"How magnificent it must be." Gorik cooed, tilting his head to the side as he watched Ivar, glancing to the man that was holding the blade to Ivar's throat.

"Your fate is something far more. You have the power of choice. Will he die by fire or at your hand?" Gorik asked, trying to stifle his own giggle.

 

[Ivar]

Ivar stopped.

It was not the blade at his throat that caused him to cease his thrashing, it was not knowing that he had been overwhelmed. So little could not have done it, so little could not have stopped the frenzy. It was seeing his friend.

Fingers tightened on the knife, and he let it drop to the side with the quiet crunch of snow. "He will not die."

The Barbarian growled.

Braum was a warrior himself, better with an axe than Ivar could ever hope to be. Yet the hulking giant of a man could not have fought three men who came from the shadows. Fingers tightened for a moment, and Ivar wanted to scream in rage at the wounded man.

"What are you?" He demanded. "You are no Nord."

That he was sure of.

 

[Sif]

Gorik held out his hands in a dramatic sweep of his arms, ignoring the blood that dripped from his back. "I am the Harbinger of Fate! The moment we crossed paths, your futures fell into my hands." He was breathing heavily now, almost gasping each of his words.

The mad man gestured to the men who had bound Braum. "Ready your torches. The bear shall burn!"


Sif crested the hill, reining in the stallion as he tossed his head and pawed at the snow. The wind abated somewhat once she finally found the source of the fighting.

So much time alone in the tundra had broken Gorik's simple mind. He'd gathered wildlings and convinced them follow his lead, each of them as eager for bloodshed as their prophet.

Shaking her head, Sif swung her legs out of the saddle and she dropped down into the deep snow. She shrugged off her cloak and coat. Battle was never something she'd taken to. She lacked the brute strength necessary to properly wield the weapons of war and most of the Nord's had far greater reach than her.

Instead of trying to force her into a role that did not suit her, Fritjof had gifted his bride with a power to defend herself with that relied on her wit.

The bear shall burn!

The mad words reached her ears and a wicked grin settled over the Priestess' lips. Her body contorted, black shadows enveloping her form as she dropped down onto all fours in the snow.

When the shadows swirled away, a massive white bear with violet and green eyes remained. She stood up onto her back legs and bellowed a challenging roar.

 

[Ivar]

Nordenfiir?

That was Ivar's first thought. There were few of them this far to the west, fewer still who would venture this deep into the Tundra. He knew that they had their own culture, but they were still of kindred spirit to most of the city of Kjos.

In the moment though it did not matter.

As soon as the bear's roar echoed out into the Tundra two of the men Holding Braum seemed to stop for a second, their grips loosening as fear filled their hearts. It was really the only opportunity that the massive man needed.

With a cry of battle Braum lashed out. His head surged forward and bashed into the nose of the man next to him, sending a spray of blood out onto the snow.

His hands and legs were still bound, but the man struggled and tried to shift even then.

Ivar followed.

The crazed man was still nearby, and that was all that mattered. The Barbarian lashed out with his leg, kicking at Gorik and hoping to bring the man down.

 

[Sif]

Gorik's men were torn between panic and excitement. Some scattered to the winds the moment the bear came charging down the hill and the fighting broke out, others leapt and cried with delight at the opportunity for violence.

Two of the men that'd been restraining Braum raised daggers into the night air, intending to stab the man before he could free himself from his bindings. Before they could bring their glinting blades down, however, one of them was torn off the man by a blur of white fur. The bear had grabbed the man by the shoulder in her mouth, effortlessly tossing him aside. Blood gushed from the gaping wound in the man's throat. The second was knocked away by a powerful swipe of the bear's massive paw, sending him flying through the air.

She protectively stood over Braum to ensure no one else tried to stab the tethered man while he was down.


Gorik was already injured from his previous fight with Ivar. As the larger barbian lashed out of him, the one-eyed man toppled down into the snow in a howl of pain.

"M-mistress?! Forgive me!" He pleaded, while struggling to defend himself from Ivar's brutal assault.

The bear turned her strange gaze to Gorik and then her weight shifted. With surprising care, she used her massive claws to rend the ropes that bound Braum's limbs and then she stepped aside to let the man find his own feet.

 

[Ivar]

Braum stood, eyeing the bare as carefully as a rabbit might a fox who had come into it's den. Lips thinned and he rubbed at his wrist. The rage that he had felt just a few seconds ago slipped away, unsure of how to react he frowned.

"Uhh...Good...bear."​

He reached out to pat Sif's head.

Meanwhile, none of the rage had left Ivar. The young man was like a frenzied animal, his eyes rabid with a desire for vengeance. As Gorik shouted, called out to his 'mistress', Ivar only saw red. He did not reach for his blade, no, he did this himself.

The man toppled onto the ground with a thud, falling into the snow and turning it red with the wound on his back.

A second passed before Ivar was upon him, all of his weight and strength crashing down on the man. Fingers balled into fists, crashing down on the man's skull with loud thump after thump until a crack echoed within the night air.

Blood scattered and spilled over what white snow remained, Ivar's cry of rage echoing out into the night around them.

 

[Sif]

The bear allowed Braum to pet her head, though there was a keen intelligence behind those mismatched eyes as she peered up at him.

Sif couldn't say why the let the man pat her head, only that she enjoyed the touch. Perhaps it was just nice to have someone praise her, instead of curse her for a change.

Her gaze turned away from Braum when she heard the sound of Ivar's enraged shouts echoing through the still night. The rest of the cultist had either been killed or had fled.

Now only a tundra bear, Braum, Ivar, and the mewling pulp of Hiring remained. Sif watched the scene unfold with muted interest. Gorik was beyond saving and she was not inclined to aid the heretic in the least. His fate had been decided the moment he attacked the travelers. Sif had only acted as the catalyst to allow the scene to unfold.

As Ivar continued to rain down heavy blows onto the pulverised head of Gorik, she padded over to him and lightly nudged the barbarian's shoulder with her snout. If he didn't stop, he would break his hands.

 

[Ivar]

Ivar's chest rose and fell in steady beats, his head snapping up as he felt something nudge against him.

Braum did not approach, his friend knowing exactly what Ivar was like when he fell into these rages. The Barbarian's eyes caught on the bear, and he was about to move to jump on it as well, but something pulled him back from the red frenzy he had fallen into.

Bruised knuckles dripped with blood, his own and the man's he had brutally beaten to death. For a few seconds he simply breathed, and then he looked over the bear for a few seconds before glancing at Braum to make sure he was okay.

"Close one, eh?"​

A scoff escaped Ivar, his eyes pulling away from his friend and slowly drifting to the great white bear. "Nordenfiir?"

He asked the creature.

Ivar knew that they could transform into bears of great stature, but...well there was something off about this that he couldn't quite put into words.

"Thank you." He said, knowing it didn't matter either way really. "We would not have survived without your help."

 

[Sif]

The bear's image shifted and then blew away like ash in the wind. As the magic faded, a small woman was left kneeling in the snow between Ivar and Braum. Her breath clouded around her face as she exhaled sharply, a crooked smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she met Ivar's gaze.

Without her heavy coat and cloak, Sif was left shivering in the frigid in a matter of moments. Using her magic in such a way left her physically drained and exhausted. She was winded, as if she'd been sprinting for miles.

Her face was covered in blood, as were her hands from the fighting.

Sif turned her eyes to Braum for a brief moment, before she looked back to Ivar.

"Happy... to help." She gasped, swaying a little. It looked as though she was going to pass out at any moment.

 

[Ivar]

Braum moved first of the two of them. Not because he was more caring of the two of the, but because he was not kneeling on the ground covered in blood. The man quickly caught up to Sif, though did not touch her in case she did not want him to.

Instead he just ensured that she did not collapse onto the ground.

From his back he quickly swept his cloak, the heavy fur unfolding from around his shoulders and opening up around Sif. The cold air was biting even for someone of his stature, but he still had his underclothes as well as the heavy padded shirt.

He held the cloak there until she grasped it or his arms.

"Here."​

Of course, that would only hold for a short while with how cold the night air actually was up here in the tundra.

Ivar pulled himself up from the Corpse, standing and still breathing heavy. "We should move, in case there's more of them."

The Barbarian looked at Sif.

"Braum or me can carry you if you're tired." There was no questions, not yet, right now safety came first.

 

[Sif]

She took the offered cloak from Braum, her fingers brushing against his arms for a brief moment in the process. The heavy cloak was wrapped around her form, still warm from the barbarian's body heat. A small beat of guilt nagged at the back of her mind, knowing that he'd freeze without the cloak.

Tired. That was the understatement of the century. Her entire form had shifted twice in less than half an hour. Shifting into people did not leave Sif in such a weakened state, but the further she turned from a human, the more energy the magic required. Taking the form of a bear required a monumental effort on her part.

She grit her teeth together and attempted to find her feet, though she staggered slightly in the snow. "We need to get out of the wind." She murmured, pushing her dark hair out of her eyes.

 

[Ivar]

This time Braum did catch her.

"Best I carry you then."​

The great Nord said as he did not wait for any form of acceptance from the woman. He instead swept her up, the great cloak around her bundling her up in an instant as though she were a tiny caterpillar in a cocoon. His arms tightened around her, holding her to his warmth.

"There's a cliff face to the east." Ivar said as he pointed, looking at his friend for a moment.

They had not chosen to go there for fear of bears, but...well with a Nordenfiir he figured it was a bit safer to go. At least she wasn't a Nordwiir. "We'll find a cave."

Building a shelter was out of the question now that the cold was setting in.

 

[Sif]

She dropped her head against Braum's chest as he gathered her up in his arms. While she always knew that she was a small woman by Nordling standards, being held against the large barbarian's chest served as a stark reminder of that fact. She felt almost like a little kitten or a cub bundled in his cloak.

Sif nodded quietly to Ivar then she closed her eyes.

"We will. Follow the rabbit trail." She mumbled softly, the fur of Braum's cloak brushing against her lips. "It'll take us to a cave."

 

[Ivar]

The three of them made their way quickly across the tundra. One of Braum's steps was two of a normal mans, a fact that held true even for Ivar, though he was more than used to the way that his friend moved.

"Don't need a rabbit." Ivar said with a smirk.

"Aye, Lass. We have him."​

Braum looked over to his friend. Ivar was an exile, and he had spent his entire life in the Wilds of the Tundra. He knew these lands better than he did the back of his own hands. Even all the way out here he knew the way to go.

It took them less than an hour to reach the cliff walls, and as they found the base Ivar began to slowly look around, searching for a few seconds before they moved again.

Eventually they found an indent within the ice, a small cavern that seemed to lead further and further down into and unknown abyss.

 

[Sif]

She glanced up at Braum's face and then over to the back of Ivar's head. It was normal for people to dismiss her advice, but that didn't make it any less frustrating when they did.

Once they were within the cavern walls, she lightly pressed a hand to Braum's chest and she gave a crooked smile. "You can put me down now. No snow to trip me up."

Her body was still exhausted, but her pride would only allow her to be carried for so long. "Thank you." She added a moment later with a quiet chuckle.