Quest Southward [A Tundra Tale]

Organization specific roleplay for governments, guilds, adventure groups, or anything similar
As he came back to his feet, regaining his senses and shaking his head Magrin would miss the blow that Solveig delivered to the Elf though there was no mistaking the smell of decay and the unrelenting cold that had started to spread throughout the room. He'd turn his head in time to watch as the Smith flew back across the room again while he rushed back towards the undead abomination.

Gripping his axe in his right hand Magrin took advantage with the fact that the Elf seemed preoccupied with Solveig Odasson to rush in and tackle his adversary. The Nord and the Elf would go to the crowd with Magrin on top of the Lich, scrambling to lift himself into a mount but to no avail. A hand locked around Magrin's throat and he felt the chill of the grave start to spread through him.

The Lich rose back to its feet, taking the larger man with him while Magrin reached with his left hand to clutch the undeads forearm, squeezing tightly while croaking out in between trying to grasp for breath..."Why don't dead things just stay----dead."...the axe came up then, his elbow cocking forward as he brought it out to his side then before swing it back in where it could hack into the ribs of the creature choking the life out of him slowly.

The Axe buried deep into the rigid form of the elf, Magrin knew he'd chewed through at least one of the ribs with that swing and if the the Elf had been alive he'd have surely killed him. Ichor leaked from the wound, a thick black blood that dirtied the blade of his axe; Magrin wrenched it free but his gaze caught the creatures and he felt it sapping his will.

Falling down onto a knee the Nord shifted his left arm over the creatures forearm, pounding down on it in an attempt to free himself but to no avail. At least while it was choking him, draining his vigor its attention was solely focused on Magrin again instead of Solveig. Strange to think that the Nord took some join in this at least, it meant he was protecting the charge Maude had given to him. Managing to pull his gaze away from the Elf he'd see Solveig off to one side, he thought he recognized the rage in Solveig's eyes and noted the glowing aura of his hammer causing him to blurt out..."Get---up! Hit this thing---ag---ain!"...he started to raise the axe for another blow but the weapon was heavy in his hand, his arm struggled to rise.
 
Valthar's arms burned where the creature had dug its fingers in. Now Hugi was wrestling with the fiend, the pair locked in an awkwardly vertical struggle.

Valthar looked down at the head of his axe, up at Hugi and then further up at the fiend.

"This will be fine..." he muttered hopefully under his breath.

" Hugi , stay as still as you can!" he called out, raising his axe.
 
The words of Magrin stirred him, and sinew lit by a strength he wasn't aware he had pulled to muscle and him to his feet. At first his steps stumble, pain wracked him. The will to fight, to stand, was constantly flickering as a candle before a gale. But he stooped, picking up the haft of his hammer. As his hand touched the weapon, the glow from before became a blaze, flames licking from the weapon. Briefly he wondered if he had misread any of the runes he had etched to it with his own blood when making it. Or if this were a side-effect of the dragon's blood he had used on it moments ago.

But within him was a rage that he could not ever recall having before. The Undead was focused entirely on Magrin Kor and Solveig took that opportunity. It suddenly craned it's head, gaze breaking from the other Nord as the younger stepped up and hefted the forge worker high. Just enough time came for it to drop it's grip on Magrin and throw a gesture towards Solveig as he advanced grimly.

Staggered him. That was about all the cold black light that drank in the sun seemed to do when it hit him, at the last moment the hammer swung and met the bolt with a brazen boom. No pain registered, but Solveig adjusted a double-handed grip on the hammer, a grip now slick with blood, flesh on both hands cracked and ruptured. Distance closed, he raised his hammer and brought it crashing down straight into the center of the chest of the elf.

The hammer caved in the chest of the thing. Briefly, a smile lit the features of the smith, a bright gleam in his eyes. It still stood, but obviously a deadly blow had been dealt, even if Solveig dropped to his knees, leaving the hammer buried in the heart of the mage.

"Velentr sends his regards..."
 
Briefly she wondered if the cold iron would stick to his skin, but he seemed fine which immediately caused her to think why she even worried. From all of them he seemed to be the luckiest so far. Or perhaps it had less to do with luck and more with skills. Specifically his magic abilities.

With eyebrows sliding toward each other she came closer. From what she could tell the keys didn’t belong to the gate. They were far too small for that. It left her wondering if they were meant for a door, a chest, or chains. Perhaps they would find out soon, perhaps never. These dead wouldn’t be telling them anything as far as she knew, hoped so, even.

“Yeah.. maybe someone of the others has found anything these might fit to.” Mika offered, eyes gliding across the body and the snow around it. Obviously she was investigating if there was anything else, but alas, he had seized the treasure. Not that this was a game of sorts, she had known that much, but when the ruthless, tainted cold came crawling up her spine her lips turned into a straight, thin line.

The feeling came a split of a second before the hellish noise. Not thunder, the collision of clouds never shook her to the bones like this sound had. Something was terribly wrong.

When the ground moved her first thought went to Orcs, lots of them, but they never brought this suffocating darkness with them. Mika’s eyes widened at the breath of a beast. She didn’t have to see it to know. Still, she hadn’t expected for its reach to be this long. When the hand came with its claws all she could do was use her iron spear in an attempt to block the incoming blow. Sliding back across the snow there was no talk of a counter considering she hadn’t been as prepared as she always thought to be.

Remnants of the blow were still lingering in her muscles when the beast came entirely into view. Of the couple messed up thing she’s seen, this one was the oddest one. Where Rebecca had been one of a kind and her ‘master’ someone not to be trifled with, they had obvious human traits to them. This being here, unfortunately, lacked any signs of that.

“Talus!” she wanted to know if he was alright without looking because taking her eyes off this thing wasn’t something she dared to do.


* * *​
 
The large man could not see through the fingers that covered his helm, but he actively hung onto the handles of his axes when he heard Valthar, though a bit muffled through the hand and helmet around his ears. He prayed to the old gods, the new gods, southern gods, and anything that had an ear and was willing to listen to his prayer as Valthar prepared to strike.
 
The Nord hammered his arm down atop the Undeads as it gripped him by the throat in a deathyl embrace. Another followed but the creature was unrelenting and Magrin considered, momentarily that he might die like this, down on his knees with the life choked out of him. It was a thought that filled the Nord with a renewed vigor to fight however it just happened that he may not have needed it. When he felt his throat released Magrin fell forward, gasping for air.

Turning his head Magrin weould squint his eyes and mutter..."Gods..."...as he saw Solveig Odasson, blazing hammer held in both hands as he took a swing at the Undead thing and caved in its chest with a momentous blow. Magrin would fight back to his feet then, the back of the Elf to him as he focused solely on Solveig now.

Gritting his teeth as he came back to his feet Magrin felt the icy touch of the creatures hand left behind on the flesh of his throat, making it difficult to talk but somehow the Nord managed to growl out something incomprehensible as he came up behind their foe.

In the heat of the moment Magrin hadn't heard what Solveig had said to the Elf but taking his axe in both hands as he came up behind he'd arc his weapon out to his right, bring it up over her head and then chop it downwards in a powerful blow. The Axe would catch the Elf on the top of the head, splitting it like a cord of wood as the blade sunk down and buried itself all the way to the collar while Magrin grimaced..."See you in whatever hell you call home."

He'd pull his axe free then, taking a step backwards as he felt his limbs become sluggish and weak before he fell back, onto his arse and looked across at the Smith. Magrin didn't say much right away, he wasn't altogether certain their enemy was dead yet and he almost forgot what was happening entirely before saying..."The Others?"...while some concern lightened his grim features.
 
The hand swiped through Talus, his translucent form exploding in a wisp of wind.

"What th-" As Talus began to speak he noticed something, the pieces of his ghostly form slowly gathering together with four large claw marks stinging through his image. His head turned, and he saw the creature.

The Dreadlord took a step back, his ghostly form flittering slightly as it peered towards the creature. There he saw it not as it was in the physical world, but half a part of the plain he stepped into. It's visage seemed even more bare, skull half aflame and features cut in lines of black and death.

It was like nothing he had ever seen before.

Talus stepped back into reality, his chin turning down as he noticed pain lancing through his chest. A hand came up, finding no blood or wound. "Fuck."

The beast could hurt him when he phase-walked.

Goosebumps ran up Talus' spine, and suddenly he broke off to the right and ran towards Mika. The blade on his belt was drawn, and he called to her.

"We have to kill it quick!" The order came as the beast swiped towards his legs.
 
Magrin spoke, but it was as if from a great distance. All Solveig could see, or hear, was the gravewind rattle of the thing before him trying to speak. It was dead, but the blow from Magrin Kor had severed the center of it's brain, splitting even the stem and cord of the spine. Somewhere, respect flickered across the hazed mind of the smith. For a mortal to end a Lich was a feat Bards would compete to sing the song of. But it was lingering, and would for a while. Though Solveig couldn't have killed the body, somehow that knowledge was in his knowing.

Liches were long in their second deaths if not helped along.

Striding forward, Solveig kneeled next to the abomination, grasping it's head in his hands, a palm to either cheek. The instant his flesh touched it, smoke hissed and the rattle keened higher. The body of a lich could be killed, but if it were a strong enough mage in life, it may find another host to animate. Rage burned in the steel-eyed gaze of the smith, and archaic words were spoken from his mouth, which he understood without quite knowing how, as he placed his forehead to the Elf's, glyph smeared with sticky black ichor that was once the blood of the Mage in life.

"Woten rider öfver sten och bärg han rider sin häst ur vred och i led, ur olag och i lag, ben till ben, led till led, som det bäst var, när det helt var."

The rattle stopped, and the room seemed to warm the barest of fractions before the blacksmith collapsed on top of the formerly animated corpse, no movement seen in his chest, and a lifeless gaze directed at the ceiling.
 
Even when she had found him, stumbling and freezing, he hadn’t displayed any sign of panic, but now she thought to hear an edge to his voice that came very close to it. Perhaps back then he had been too tired, too fed up with the cold, and too on the edge to actually show his fear. Maybe he had already accepted death back then. She didn’t know and never would if they didn’t act quickly now. Because at this point in time he was very much alive and ready to defend his place among the living. She, too, came back to her senses after a mere glance toward Talus.

An iron rod on its own wouldn’t do against a beast this tall. She still rushed forward to deflect the incoming attack. Those claws had been reaching for her friend; it pissed her off. The sharp side of her spear collided with the moving hand, sliding across it with an eerie, otherworldly sound. Darkness shrouded the skin or bone or whatever this creature was made of. A demon. That much was clear, if you asked Mika.

She felt her body slide back more, retreated her weapon and rushed forward in an attempt to nail the hand to the snowy ground. The attack failed but she managed to crack a finger, if you could call it that, which caused their opponent to breathe heavier. She recognized it as anger building up to spill. Her chest felt cold and hollow. This atmosphere seemed to be eating at both her willpower and focus.

Persisting as well as she could, Mika wondered if the head or the torso should be targeted. Where would the blow be lethal? She hoped that Talus knew, had the feeling he did because his reaction led her to that belief of sorts.

Quickly swinging the spear again, she found it almost ripped from her grip by the enemy. Almost, but not quite. Holding onto it she bared her teeth and soon they turned to fangs. The transformation gave her strength. Trusting the spear forward with one paw she swung the other with razor sharp claws, aiming for the elbow. Perhaps she could tear off one arm, that would certainly help their cause, wouldn’t it?


* * *​
 
With Brenna's fatal cut and the strength of Gylfi's arms, the creature's head came off with no difficulty. The sword cut a majority of its neck, though the pulling finished the job. Flesh ripped apart, and as its head finally separated from its shoulders, Gylfi's arms swung back, and the momentum caused him to stumble and trip back into the cell door. His rear hit the floor and sent a jolt of pain up through his body.

He still tightly gripped the creature's antlers, and when the young man realized this, he looked at its face. Frankly, it was terrifying.

"Ugh," with a grimace, he tossed the head somewhere behind its body.

Gylfi then looked at Brenna and, stretching out a long arm to reach her, pat her head with a large hand. The Grumpy Bear flashed a small, fleeting smile at her as if to say well done. Her hair was soft, and he couldn't help but rub on his ward's head further.

After taking several seconds to recover from and process what had happened, he finally turned back to the ranger with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows.

"What was that?" he hissed.
 
"This will be fine!" he called out. It was not evident whether he was telling Hugi or himself. At the least, he knew he wasn't telling the dark shadow that clung to Hugi.

His axe was finely forged by an elven Smith from Alliria. One who could awaken something within metal. He could feel Vilissë actually understanding his intent and its own revulsion for thing dark thing he swung for.

There was a satisfying thud at the conclusion of his swing. Neither of Hugi's limbs fell off, which was a relief. Instead the things screached and darted away. Parts of itself fell to the floor and Hugi was given a grim shower of gore.
 
Brenna scooted her butt across the floor so that she could lean her back against the bars of the cell and examined the long scratch up her leg from the creatures claws. It didn't look particularly bad despite the odd stinging and colouration. No time to dwell on it for now anyway. She was about to hurl herself to her feet when Grumpy Bear reached out and patted her like she were a small child and her lips thinned into a pale line.

She managed to look annoyed for roughly two seconds before answering his grin with one of her own.

With a small huff Bre hurled herself to her feet as Gylfi asked his question; one she wanted the answer to too. But she also wanted to get out of here and check on the others. The girl wasn't going anywhere for now and was probably safer where she was for the time being.

This time she tugged lightly on his hair to get his attention now that she was standing and he sitting. Then she wound the lock she had tugged about her finger.

We should check on the others. Find the key.
 
Try and try again as they might, something beyond their power was bolstering the strength of the door. It was unnatural, the way it held against the power she knew both Arnor and herself to wield. Maude growled and looked about the Commander's Chamber for an alternate way out. There were no windows to break and the stone layers of the keep would not easily give to them either. They could both hear the sounds of the monster in the courtyard, feel the thunderous trembling of the ground as it stalked after Talus and Mikaela Ryurik, and it brought the Queen's blood to boil.

But then something else happened - off in the mess hall as Solveig Odasson collapsed upon the corpse of his foe and Magrin Kor blinked on after him, the unnerving and otherworldly cold began to dissipate from the grounds. Maude looked around as the suffocating darkness began to lift and the ghastly chill running along her spine abated. Whatever power had brought this upon them was gone.

She looked to Arnor Skuldsson to see if he felt the shift as well. Something drastic had changed. Maude reached one last time for the door latch to find it no longer barred. The sigh of relief that begged to be free was caught, however, in her lungs as she stepped back out to the landing to discover that their troubles were still not yet over.

The massive beast, one the likes of which drove a spear of alarm through her heart, released an ear-piercing screech that seemed to defy the bounds of the living realm. Maude felt it in her soul.


There wasn't time to think on it too much as it advanced upon the Dreadlord and the young Scout. With no one else in line of sight, it left herself and Arnor to help. Maude instinctively made to grab for her bow, her hand catching nothing but air as she recalled that it had been broken. Fuck. She hated not having the advantage of distance. No matter, there was a store room here where they kept spare weapons - following Arnor down the steps and out into the courtyard she drew her sword.

"MIKAELA!" she yelled to the Scout, "Where are the others?!"

~~~

In the cellblock the Ranger just shook her head, eyes wide with stricken terror as she sat, curled, against her bindings in the back corner of her cell, mentally checked out.

~~~

The door that had previously slammed shut behind Hugi now creaked open, seemingly no longer barred, and let in the echoes of the nightmare outside to him and Valthar .
 
The Nord wasn't quite sure what he'd seen. He'd heard of exorcisms, spirit binding and other such archaic or divine methods of driving out and destroying a tainted spirit but he'd never witness. It could be that is what this was when he watched Solveig Odasson take the head of the Elf in his hands, touch his forehead to the others and speak words of arcane power. Even if it wasn't it had an effect, Magrin could feel the brief warmth that filled the room.

A look of grim satisfaction turned to concern when the Smith collapsed atop the lifeless body of the Elf though. Magrin, who had been seated back on his haunches came up into a crouch near Solveig and pressed a hand to his chest..."Don't die on me now, Odasson."...he'd have muttered quietly noting the warmth of his wards chest while he made a brief scan of his body. Solveig's hands were burned, his gaze lifeless; Magrin didn't exactly know what he was looking at he wasn't a medic.

Sliding his hand up from his chest Magrin checked Solveig's pulse, it was there but it was faint indicating he was alive at least but then that piercing scream ripped through the courtyard beyond and Magrin found himself flinching as it it touched his senses. Instinctively he withdrew his hand from Solveig to cover one of his ears though the fingers of the other curled tighter around the haft of his axe.

Magrin wouldn't abandon Solveig, at least not until he was sure he had died even if the others outside might have joined battle anew. He'd wave his hand in front of Solveig's eyes as they stared up at the ceiling, looking for some indication the Smith registered the movement in his gaze. "I'm not a Healer."...he'd grunt, frustrated that even if he had been one he wouldn't have known what to do in this situation so he gave Solveig a smack to the side of the jaw..."Get up. There's still more work to do."...his features had stiffened again, the line of his mouth turning downwards as he frowned.

"A Curse on magic and its infernal uses."...he'd have managed in his usual tone, the not so impressed one before he set his axe down and reached for Solveig so that he could pull him up off the corpse of the Elf and prop him up against one of the long tables that hadn't been destroyed in their encounter. An eye veered towards the entrance to the Hall but he couldn't see out into the courtyard.
 
Gylfi did not notice Brenna checking her leg. When the ranger weakly shook her head, the young man clicked his tongue, and an intense look washed over his features. He got carried away, speculating about the creature. The elf, did they cause this? His thoughts went endlessly down that path, though his ward's tugging on his hair brought him back to reality.

His neck craned so he could look up at her and nodded. She was right—they could only tackle things one step at a time.

Gylfi pulled himself up on the cell's bars and once again towered over Brenna. He sloppily made the sign for behind and jerked a thumb at himself before stepping over the headless corpse and cautiously made his way back to the door they entered from. He had no clue if there were any more of them creeping about.

As they came closer to the cellblock's entrance, the struggle outside became clearer.

The screeching. What could have caused that?

Gylfi hastened and busted through the door back into the courtyard.
 
By the time Gylfi had snapped out of his thoughts Bre had managed one neat braid through his hair. Her lips were pitched upwards with the amusement of it despite the seriousness of the situation but the moment was disturbed by him standing up. Why was everyone so Gods damn tall? She actually had to take a step back so she could look up at him without it hurting her neck too badly. The short woman nodded to his sign to show she understood but before she followed him she walked back to the creatures head to retrieve her knife. It was so deeply embedded into the things eye and matter beyond she had to put one foot on its forehead and pull. It made a sickening squealing noise Bre was glad she only had to imagine, before it came away finally.

A noise of disgust came from her throat as she wiped it against the wall in an attempt to get the still attached eyeball off it.

Once it was relatively clean, and at the least free of eyeball, she turned and followed her Grumpy Bear out of the cell block with another glance towards the woman rocking in her prison. It didn't exactly fill her with confidence this was over. Neither did the way Gylfi suddenly tensed in front of her, having clearly heard something, before he was moving forward with more speed. Bre practically had to jog to keep up. Once they were outside the breath huffed out of her.

The creature was huge. At least the height of a giant and then with horns on top probably taller than Bre herself. Her eyes took in Mika and Talus who currently seemed to have most of the creatures attention and then to Maude who was racing down the steps. No sign of her brother or Magrin and their respective partners. Which meant that there must be something keeping them...

She tugged the shield free of her pack then glanced to Gylfi with a small incline of the head. It would do no good for them to simply watch.
 
He did not see the creatures weakspot, but it didn't matter.

As the monster occupied itself with Mika Talus had time to gather himself. His fingers tightened on the blade, his eyes shifting quickly over the beast as he tried to gain some semblance of understanding. It seemed no more inhuman that other things he had faced.

In the back of his head he wished he'd paid more attention when the Templars had spoken at the Academy. A curse escaped his lips, and he flipped the blade in his hand as his body once again shifted into the bare translucent blue.

He could see the after image of the monster, the ghostly wisps that poured from it's back.

Whatever the creature was, it had a presence in the realm Talus phase-walked through. It was a disconcerting fact, but not one that he could think on for long. With a airless breath the ghostly figure of Talus launched itself forward.

In just a heartbeat he was upon the beast.

Using the back of it's knee as a launching off point Talus threw himself on the monsters back, driving his blade straight through the back of it's chest.
 
The claws ripped through skin seemingly shrouded in a veil of seeping darkness. She felt them scratch the bone underneath but there was no scent of blood or any snapping sound. Apparently she had missed the chance to rip off the limb, not that she would give up on it. That’s why when the other arm came in, swinging with its long lethal fingers, she moved to the side and let it pass her. Two cuts were made on her side, but in return she could squeeze the arm between her paw and side. Without waiting for the creature to understand her plan she stepped forward, sliding further down the arm and viciously bit into the elbow presented to her now.

When the scream came it almost felt like the ground was shattering all around her. The sound went through her like lightening and almost drove her mad. The latter fueled both her fear and anger. In response she dug her fangs deeper and deeper. Something akin to dirt, rotten flesh and death itself lingered on her tongue when she finally felt the bone cracking under her fangs. Then came the blow to her side. A fist, like a wall, caused the bear to fly away a couple of yards and fall into the snow, sliding.

She spit out the gore. Let in the snow were trails of black goo. One arm down, one injured.

And was that Talus’ sword sticking out of the beast’s chest?

Mika certainly hoped so as she got up, feeling the burning of bruises on one side and the two shallow cuts stinging more than they should on the other side of her torso.

Only now did she realize that others were flowing in from all sides. Not all of them were here, yet. Maude charged into battle, but Mika hadn’t heard her question before, having been in a struggle that had cost her all of her focus at that point in time had made her deaf.



* * *​
 
This will be fine! He heard the man call out. Hugi blinked in the brief moment before the weight above him seemed to evaporate. The twin axes came loose, before gore and other blighted shite covered him. He made an effort to not gag at the smell. Which would have been a sight given the helm was cock eyed on his head now, arms coming down as the axes clatter and hands went to his knees.

His attempts to keep his stomach failed however, the smell trapped in the helm as he took to the corner and did his business.

"Grief and misery on anyone who can-urrrp- keep their stomach to that." He sputtered, spitting a few times and slinging the gore off as best he could. His eyes darted to the door, now open as sounds outside caught his attention.

"Reckon more's out there." He swallowed another gag, righting his helmet and picking up the axes. He would push through the door, stone and wood groaning at his quick movement. He was loathe to be trapped in the small room once more.

Valthar
 
While the creature was focused on Mika its back was to her and Arnor Skuldsson, so the pair of them took the opportunity to join the fray. As they approached, the Dreadlord flew in from the side like a ghostly apparition, leaping upwards to sink his sword into the behemoth's back. It issued another earsplitting wail, turning its advance from Mikaela Ryurik in order to reach up and claw for the man at its back.

"Go for its legs!" Maude yelled at Arnor, sliding in beneath the swing of a massive claw as it writhed in pain and fury.

The Queen muscled through her exhaustion to bring her sword up, pulling on the strength of Eogorath's amulet, and swung it down in a horizontal arc that cleaved straight through the beast's leg.
 
Valthar's whole body rolled forwards as if he was going to chunder all across the floor. He managed not to, but was swiftly around the mess. He wiped off what he could from Vilesse onto the nearest burlap sack as he went.

"Definitely more," he agreed as he rushed outside.

"Brenna!" he was calling as he crossed the threshold. He immediately regretted making any noise to draw attention to himself.

"What the fuck is that?"
 
Gylfi returned a short nod to his ward, the single braid of auburn hair swaying with every motion of his head. Shrugging off his cloak, he stepped out from under the wooden walkway and into the courtyard and pulled the greatsword from his back. In only a few long strides, Gylfi entered the fray.

As the monster fell from having its leg severed, Gylfi positioned himself under the collapsing creature, the tip of his sword aimed at its midsection. He let the beast impale itself on the blade, the weight of its massive frame burdening the young man.

With a ferocious roar, Gylfi managed to straighten his legs and pushed up on the beast with his shoulders.
 
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He hadn't told her to stay put so...

Brenna swung her sword once in her hand before bolting after her guard. The creature was already in quite a poor state; it was missing one leg and most of an arm, a sword was jutting form its chest and Gylfi's blade protruded from its stomach. Yet still it was attempting to swat the Nords away as if they were no more than annoying bugs. Seemed like a sure bet to attack a bit of the creature nobody else was. On its side it was a lot easier to scale. Bre cast a glance to Gylfi as she ran past and then jumped, catching on to the creatures bony shoulder blades and digging her nails in to pull herself up. Once her feet were back under her she hesitated a second to get used to the feel of the movement as the beast struggled and attempted to get itself up whilst also defending itself. Then she was running again. Hopping over the gaps in bone and taking care on slimy bits of sinew, she made her way to the creatures throat. The thing that had attacked them in the pit had died pretty quickly when its head had been removed she was hoping it would be the same in this case.

With the beast on its side she could feel the vibrations of its screams through her feet but it was perfectly quiet in her mind. She wondered, briefly, how horrific they sounded. Was it a high pitched bone chilling sound or was it the deep kind of rumble like an avalanche? The thoughts lingered as she raised her blade and then dove it between her feet and in through the creatures neck. It was as easily as wide as she was tall so it was going to take some hacking.
 
Iron sliced through foreign muscle and bone. The beast was collapsing and impaled itself on a sword so graciously offered to it by one of Mika’s fellow Nordenfiir. Roaring she rushed forward while Brenna cut into the creature’s neck. With her paws Mika got a hold of one of the horns and pulled. Together with the steal sawing through the neck, the hacking of the spine, and some more effort from Mika’s side, the head was coming loose. Everything shook. She tried to pull further to the side, because of Gylfi being somewhere beneath the beast. No way that she wanted one of theirs to be crushed by this monster. Not when she could give her all to prevent it.

RRRRRRRAWRRRR

The charcoal black bear let its enemy know while encouraging the others. The roaring brought a sort of relief. Hearing her own voice, even in this distorted form, gave her something to hold onto and defend herself with against the unnatural sounds their enemy made.

Hopefully these were the last notes it sang in its devilish tone.


* * *​
 
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The creature loosed an otherworldly keening as it crumpled to the ground, rivers of darkened blood drenching its assailants and the snow beneath. Maude could feel her bones shiver and her ears grow numb as the screech leveled out before fading into an eerie silence.

The fort fell still, the skies seemed to hold their breath. The sound of feverishly beating hearts pounding so heavily they could nearly be felt on the air. After a few long moments the flesh and bone of the monster began to dissipate, a wind picking up to carry it off into the frigid wastes beyond.

Sinking to her knees where she stood, Maude felt the weight of her exhaustion like a mountain upon her shoulders. The Queen wanted nothing more than to succumb to the hold of sleep but as her green eyes passed around those present she noted the stain of corruption on each and every one of them. They couldn't stay here, they needed to get to Kiringsaal.

She gave the command.

Rations were collected, the key to the cellblock were recovered, the dead were placed over piles of wood and burned before the twilight hours set in. They were joined by the withered Ranger who spoke very little but did as she was told. She helped Magrin craft a gurney and secured Solveig in with rope. By the time moonlight shone upon the mountain peaks they were on the move again.

After a day and a half of traveling non-stop they settled into a valley of dense conifers where they made camp and rested. A stream trickled beneath thick ice nearby. A fresh caribou hunted down by the Ranger made their dinner. Maude quietly warned the group that if she slept she might not awaken for several days but Estrid promised she would lead them true if it should happen.


By the time Maude awoke they had trekked two days farther south and already arrived at Kiringsaal. She sat up in a bed within the healing hall only to be gently coaxed back to her slumber by an attending Priestess.


KIRINGSAAL

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Ancient pillars and towers of stone dated back far longer than any Nordenfiir really knew. The Priests spoke of the first true settlement of the ancient Nords long, long ago. Many structures were mere skeletons of what had once been, some still fulfilled the role they'd been crafted for. Others were reconstructed from the detritus of stone left behind by the ages. Filling the open spaces between were massive carved statues of the Svalen of Kings and Queens that came before, their bodies long since burned to ash and honored.

The greatest of all was the monument to Eogorath - a veritable mountain on its own.

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Though it was winter, the grounds were covered in a curiously green lichen. Given enough time watching, the group might witness an Acolyte collecting large portions of it with a curved blade. Kiringsaal was not a large or busy settlement, the population mainly consisted of those training with the Priests, the Priesthood itself, and those traveling through for one reason or another. It was quiet and welcoming and the Priests attentive to the corrupted wounds.