Completed Spine soup

[Anastasia]

Ana never really liked to hunt. Sure, she could skewer a liche through the heart and string them up on a stake without balking if she had to. But to do it to furry little creatures?

A bit different.

She didn't really have the luxury of being picky out here on the Spine. Not that Templars usually had that sort of luxury at all, but... life out on their new compound Herath had been developing some creature comforts she had been growing use to. Too use to, actually. In all her years as a recruit, a student, and even a diligent solider, she had never pictured herself as a Lord Commander's dignitary and out right lover. Never mind as a mother to the heir of a new Templar Allegiance. Life today resembled practically nothing from life two years ago.

The Templars regathering forces? Uniting as one- reoccupy old fortresses? A fool's dream. Or rather, her fool's dream. And as good as it was to have a hand in her people rising up again, Ana needed to fall back in touch with the real reason she had been doing all of this.

Slaughtering evil, of course.

It had been just a rumor. Just a rumor of some ghouls harassing a village, caught wind by her on the way back from a delegation. But she had been unable to resist the temptation of checking it out, even if it was irresponsible to move forward without her men. How bad could a small rumor be? As it turned out-- very bad. She frowned over the crisping carcass of a rabbit she had skewered, using her teeth and her spare hand to tie a bandage over her left arm. The wood of her fire burned thick and smokey, visable through the canopy above her.

It wasn't like her to mess up her wood selection for a fire. It wasn't like her to get nicked either. How frustratingly soft she had gone.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

It had become commonplace for Arnor to be known to handle problems efficiently.

Naga, were once Knottington's problems. Now they served as fertilizer for their fields.

Raiding thieves attacking and pillaging vagabonds? Lined the road as a warning.

Arnor's hands were busy with the work of those who needed something to be done.

He didn't hide his footsteps as he approached the camp of the Templar. He smelled the fire before he smelled her. He appeared from the shadows, lumbering, dark, and heads and shoulders taller than most of the people in the summer lands. As it would so happen, the woman had been following rumors, but Arnor- Arnor was sent from the village that the Ghouls were harassing to handle the problem. Magic, Templars, Knights in shining armor, all fought as bravely as they could, but rarely anything beat someone who was out for a paycheck. Completion of the job meant a faster payout, and a faster move to the next job.

It wasn't a sense of duty or honor, it was a sense of practicality that Arnor continued to do so well in the Spine. That, and him being the 'Axe of Knottington', and 'Serpentbane' in some places, helped him find stable work. Everyone knew about the defense of Knottington- safe to say, Arnor was in somewhat of high demand, or could find work.

He stared at her for a little while, making no move for any of the weapons on his person. Even his demeanor seemed non-threatening. He had no qualm with her. No issue, no quarrel. So he started with a joke.

"You're awfully pretty for a ghoul."

 

[Anastasia]

Ana's eyes widen, the edges sharp with ferocity that quickly diminished once she saw the owner of the voice.


Her fingers remained clenched over the hilts of little daggers tucked into her leather armor. She had snapped her hands there instinctively, years of service carving muscle memory deep into arms. Sudden sound? Daggers out. In a way, he was lucky she hadn't sent them flying. She usually did when she wasn't expecting someone.


"And you probably bleed too much too." So neither were ghouls. Now that they had that both out of the way, she nodded a slight hello and looked him over. Finding him to be no immediate threat, her shoulders dropped and she gave him a warm smile. She qualmed with dead things, not people.

"Smoke gave me away?" She sighed at it, shaking her head. "I should have known the pile was too wet. I'm Ana." She didn't offer her hand, her fingers never truly leaving her dagger's hilt. She was friendly, not stupid.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"Hard to hide the smell from me."

He took a cautious, measured step at the other end of the fire, but not before walking around briefly and getting a few more sticks to put into the fire. Guests to the fire, and all. He took a seat, and laid the long sword behind him. It was a sign of peace. She could fly across the fire and stab him in the neck before he had a chance to turn, and remove the blade. The blade itself was distinctly... a Nordenfiir's blade. Hearty, and tempered steel heavy and strong enough to withstand being wielded by the strong people.

He wondered who she was for a moment, but she must have been someone at least half-way decent. And then he wondered if she'd been around the Spine for any length of time. If she did, his name carried some weight in the right circles. If not, then, well, he was just some guy.

"I am Arnor Skuldsson. Pleasure to meet you."

A distinctly foreign name for a distinctly foreign man.

 

[Anastasia]

Nothing. Nada. No recognition entered her gaze.

She pulled her hands off her daggers, it be rude not to by this point, and relaxed back against the tree she set up against. "Arnor," she acknowledged, an air of formality to her motions. She had been engaged in politics for too long. It struck her how much she sounded like Valerie then.

Speaking of which, she glanced towards the sky, wondering just how long it would take the girl to find her. There was no way Ana was turning back, not until she saw this through. Perhaps she should send ahead a message, fetch a map, gather appropriate intel... the planning drifted rapidly through her thoughts, the woman more engaged with this task than she cared to admit.

"What brings a Nordenfir so far from home and hunting ghouls?" She asked bluntly, turning her meat on its spit. A Templar crest was emblazoned on her leathers, marking her clearly for what she was for those that might know.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

A Templar.

Pieces clicked together, clockwork gears making the bells ring in the towers within Arnor's mind. She was hunting them out of a sense of duty, wanting to... rid the world of evils and make everyone smile and hold hands and whatnot. He was doing it to get paid.

"Money."

Money that bought comfort, let him see the world.. among other, many things that he didn't want to mention in polite company.

"Half up front, half when the Ghouls are put in the ground. Bonus if I find out why."

 

[Anastasia]

Ana laughed, an easy sound that didn't match the stoic reputation of Templar throughout the land. They were notoriously uncommunicative and cold, charging into areas and obliterating magical threats, the communities input be damned.

Their reputation was a harsh one, but there was no denying their lethal ability to get the job done. Regardless of the costs.

The lack of full armor plating was another stigma Ana was breaking, no pile of worn, dented silver in sight. She smiled at him, removing the food from the fire and staking it into the ground to cool.

"And have you? Found out why."

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

A Templar laughed.

If he had been further out West once, he'd probably have had seen everything. He leaned on the tree nearest to him, observing the fire for a moment. He cocked his head, then shook it to her inquiry.

Their reputation proceeded them. But he was effective in his lethality, in his violence, and for his quickness to resolve problems, less out of an altruistic sense, and more of a financial one. Difference was, really-

People tended to like Arnor. People usually avoided Templars.

"I imagine someone is just..." He made the motions of a puppeteer with his right hand.

"For some fiendish reason. Never a lot of bad guys around here that are bad for no reason."

 

[Anastasia]

Ana nodded in agreement, the two seemingly thinking along the same path.

"A necromancer then. Probably stationed somewhere nearby." Her eyes skimmed the trees, the threat level rising at the conclusion. Stumbling into a group of ghouls was much less intentional than hordes of them being sent out. With ownership came intention. And the ability to target specific threats.

She shifted, her relaxed demeanor growing slightly more stiff.

"Do you have a map? Show me where they've been sighted." Ahh, there was the expected bossiness of a Templar.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

Arnor raised a brow, curling his knuckles as she spoke to him in such a manner. He then inclined his head to her.

"We haven't slept together have we? You're bossing me around like we have."

The Nordenfiir were... less than open about things that most people in the Summer Lands were modest about. He tapped his fingers on his knees, pulling them close to his chest to be more relaxed.

"I don't have a map. I've been following their tracks."

 

[Anastasia]

Ana’s expression hardened slightly.


“Words you wouldn’t say to a man,” she leveled coolly.


Ana was well use to being treated as such when she asserted herself among men outside her people. Of course asserting and demanding are two different categories, but whether she was thoughtlessly bossy or appropriately demanding, she gave him the same response.

It was extremely frustrating act as the face of her people at times, and surprising to even her, she was developing a short fuse over it.


She ignored the rest of his words, the conversation clearly derailed.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"If I ever fucked a man, I would."

He narrowed his eyes at her response. Then he relaxed, his posture relaxing. The people of the Tundra were notoriously promiscuous, or at least, non-monogamous. Such discussions, and remarks, were seen as crude and hurtful in some places.

"Are you ready to continue? I can bearly contain my excitement of putting corpses back into the ground."

He rose to a stand, surveying the land around him. His nose didn't pick up any necrotic, rotting flesh. So for the moment, he felt safe, and content, and frankly, warm by the fire. A peculiar looking axe hung from his hip- ornate, with what appeared to be insignias of various houses.

A gift, from the people of Knottington, from the man that wrestled the town from the jaws of some very fiendish Naga.

 

[Anastasia]

Ana gave a heavy sigh, having only just sat before the fire to recuperate from her encounter with the ghouls. And dare she say it hadn't gone well, the templar well outnumbered and sore from it. Templar were not suppose to be solo fighters.

"And move forward blindly, without a plan?" She countered, her tone tired but gentler. "No. Sit, warm your belly, and I will see about figuring out the best town to walk towards next."

They had been attacking in a random, spread out pattern, though that was a detail she had yet to fully grasp.

Ana gestured towards the steaming animal left to cool on the stick jammed into the ground, clearly willing to share the meal. The templar reached for her bag with her uninjured arm, forgoing a moment to eat for a moment to plan instead, upending the bag for a travel-worn map.

Whether or not he took the offer, or even if he seemed on the fence, she glanced up at him and murmured softly, "It does us no good to walk mindlessly. The necromancer must be stationed somewhere."

She turned back to a very vague rendition of a map, only the largest towns and trading posts marked on it, the parchment clearly meant to cover a much larger area in swath than give a detailed account of this region. But it was something, so she pooled over it, blood-tipped curls falling out of braid to brush across the parchment.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"My plan was going to lead me where they were, eventually."

True, yes, expedient, no. But it would get it done, and it was a sure-fire way. She pulled out a rather basic map, to which Arnor could only roll his eyes. If Arnor had not eaten half a stag earlier, he would've taken her offer, but the woman needed the meal more than he did.

"Perhaps we wait for the vile sorcerer to make his next move. Resurrect some corpses, you know. Gotta get fresh ones sometime."

 

[Anastasia]

"And where would he do that?" She countered, squinting over the map. "Mass graves aren't that plentiful in these parts. Not unless they slaughter a whole village themselves, but if they were capable of that they wouldn't be using ghouls to do it in the first place."

She tucked her hair back, frowning. "They're building an army, so they need a place to hold them. I suppose they could just be camped out somewhere in the woods, but they are usually too finicky for such conditions. Are there any abandoned keeps around here? Mansions? Forgotten plantations with perhaps a... tower or two?"

It was a guess, but it was one based on experience.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"An army? No, this feels like a grudge."

Arnor knew about personal grudges. He rubbed his chin, thinking for a moment, lightly touching the Svalen marking on his face. A subtle sign to those who knew that at any given moment, the big man could turn into an even bigger, meaner bear.

"The Army of the Dead isn't around here, anyways. They're going somewhere else."

He tapped his chin.

"This is like....This seems like they're after something. A goal. An end."

 

[Anastasia]

Ana perked a brow, regretting immediately that she had moved forward without her men. If that was true, this was something they could handle with the numbers she had on hand. A small gathering, not an army, didn't call for that much fuss among the Templar.

"An end?" She inquired, giving Arnor her full attention now. "Is there something about this region I should know?" Blatantly not from around here. Arnor had the upper hand on knowledge like that.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"Besides Belgrath? The Spine has more than it's fair share of secrets."

Arnor blankly looked around... as if he was bored. He seemed to be off a schedule. After all, time really was money to him.

He wasn't from around here either. That got him to thinking of home. He turned his head to her.

"I'll help you. If you can help me."

 

[Anastasia]

Ana sensed his restlessness, and she purposely did not respond to it. Many a young warriors died to impatient actions and reckless plans. Her chest twinged at the reminder, the memory promptly shut away before it could reach her.

She would do this her way-- slow. Steady. Planned. No one would die on her watch. The Templar were never one to rush into things.

Her head quirked at his next words, the Templar growing sill at the heavy implication of his words.

"Help you with what?" She asked carefully, her legs crossed with patient precision under her.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"That comes later, my answer."

He studied her for a moment, then reached to his side, taking out...a piece of salted meat.

Raw, of course. Nordenfiir were not known to be picky eaters in the Summer Lands.

"We should look at the village itself, and what it is has, as opposed to finding the ghoul-maker... and then easy as can be, we find who would benefit from dead people eating alive people. Or what have you."

Callous and upfront, as most of his people were. Then again, Arnor hadn't been around the Nordenfiir in quite a long time- he picked up many mannerisms of his own.

 

[Anastasia]

Ana wasn't affected by his abrasiveness. In many ways it was a welcome attitude. Those that used soft words and round about points always gave her headaches. Still, she have a heavy sigh, kicking her leg up and bringing her knee in so she could pry a rock out of the bottom of her shoes.

"We can do that," she relented, finding merit in the idea.

She needed to call for her many anyway. And send a missive home.

"But I don't operate on hidden terms. You can state what you need now and if it's in our field, you have my word we will assist where capable." It was strange being able to give promises like that. Power felt weird when it slipped off her tongue. Still, it was useful in moments like this.

"What do you need?" She leveled just as bluntly, in no mood for tricks or stupid political bartering bouts. "I'll only ask once."

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"An army of the undead marches on the tundra to setup a new home."


He said it with just a hint of worry, but otherwise, the same, flat, bored tone with his fleeting hints of an accent. He blankly looked at her, then stood up, kicking over the fire, albeit, gently. He was making the remark that they should leave sooner, rather than later.

"That does sound like a Templar problem to me."

And from the woods, came a huffing, a hoofing, and a grumpy snarl. Rhi, a massive, dim-witted pack horse came fumbling out. Rhi was upset because Arnor took a detour, and Rhi, despite all his other shortcomings, had a penchant for drinking.

And the village had beer and ale. This fire, did not. Arnor gave the beast's side a loving stroke, to which Rhi, although angry that he hadn't gotten a drink in a while. Arnor sighed and looked down at the woman.

"You can ride or walk. He doesn't mind the smell."

 

[Anastasia]

Ana snorted, shaking her head to hide a wry smile.

"Aye, that does sound like a Templar problem." She stood up with a grunt, swiping up her cooled meat and gnawing on it as she kicked the last bit of the fire out in turn.

And she had so been looking to a moment's rest.

Still, she turned without complaint and walked out of the clearing opposite of him. Hardly a moment later the sounds of her own horse could be heard as she mounted, and then the Templar emerged back from the trees. It was a fine horse she rode, with a pile of polished armor strapped to its back to boot.

"Up then. And you buying me a drink." She tore off the last of the meat and tossed the stick aside, riding abruptly past him.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

Arnor mounted his horse, which, had to be big enough to comfortably carry the larger Nordenfiir, so safe to say- it was a fairly heavy, tall horse. He did feel a little jealous at armor. Rhi didn't seem impressed. Arnor leaned down and whispered that he'd get him some armor.

Rhi didn't seem pleased with the idea.

Arnor lead the way, with the village coming into view. They still had some time to go through, however. He blinked, turning to the woman.

"So. Which Order are you apart of? Or have the Templar fixed themselves and united under one? My fath- I was told about the Templars as a boy."

 

[Anastasia]

Ana pulled up besides him, her thumb tracing mindless circles on a small hilt creeping out of her leathers. "Broken Sword," she said simply.

She hadn't pushed him for conversation, but she had certainly been warm to any attempts to it.

"We're stationed in Alliria. Or... were. Within the last year we've taken back Herath," she informed him, freeing to one of the three great fortresses the Templar's had at their height. The massive compound was location in mountains above Falwood, and could house an army far greater than their current numbers combined numbers.

Poor, dissipating Templars...

Ana did not view their odds with such pessimism, her face lighting up as she carried on. "We're attempting to mend old wounds, many old factions now stand back together with us under our allegiance." Key word-- our.

"Others... need more time." Her voice tightened ever so slightly. She dropped it in an instant, looking over to him. "That is why I am here. You know you have an order two weeks east of you, hm?" They were secular as one would expect and clung to the old ways more than Ana could stomach.