Completed Spine soup

[Anastasia]

"Say no more," Ana responded, expression and tone utterly reserved. Her warm smile was gone. Her easy posture held stiff. His sentiment was not missed. Arnor got a flat glance of acknowledgement from Ana, her attention clearly elsewhere.

She neatly folded up the map and stood, tucking it into her satchel. Just as she turned to leave, she stopped. She hovered in place for a moment before turning back to the dwarf, her brows pinched ever so slightly again.

"How did you know I was Templar?"

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"Oh, he told me last night." The Dwarf said, pointing over at-

Arnor was gone from the table. He had crossed the room quietly, standing next to Ana, staring at the Dwarf. Arnor popped a mint leaf, chewing on it, looking at the Dwarf sternly.

"I told you not to tell her, also."

In the middle of the night, to avoid any intrusions- the incredibly xenophobic town had been paid a visit by the Axe of Knottington- and lightly threatened to leave him and the Templar alone. They were here to solve the Ghoul problem. The townsfolk put down their pitchforks when he showed them the axe, all the same.

He marched outside, with Rhi laid over in the dirt. He had a barrel of mead sent out to the horse. A whole barrel. The horse was laying over, the massive pack horse sleeping off his incoming hangover. Arnor splashed water on his horse, throwing the horse blanket off the laying beast. Rhi came to, standing up rather slowly and huffing and puffing. Arnor and the horse seemed to have a stern conversation about the horse's drinking, Arnor being an enabler.

Everyone outside the tavern, going about their business, stopped to watch the massive Nordenfiir scold his horse and himself for their alcoholic tendencies.

Arnor mounted his horse, waiting for Ana. He looked up at the sky, eyeing how much daylight they had left. Ample enough to get there, but he didn't want to fight the undead at night, not yet.

 

[Anastasia]

What.


Left with that strange line, Ana slowly scanned the tavern. The heavy attention Arnor had garnered had dissipated, spare the few sets of eyes that had keenly connected her presence to his.

Why did she feel like she was leaving this place with more questions than she came with?

She scooped up her bag and headed out, mumbling a g'day to a person half blocking the door. She pulled her horse up besides Arnor's, the Templar watching him out of the corner of her eyes as she dealt with straps and bedding.

"What'd you get up to last night?" She asked casually.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"The usual. Women avoid me, so I occupy my time with productive things."

He turned and watched the townsfolk, happy little people living quaint little lives. He felt envious for a moment. The simplicity, the tranquility. But the moment would never come. He knew that life was a pipe dream for him.

He started to ride, heading in the direction of the old, has-been mine. The grip on his reigns tightened, thinking of the task ahead. Arnor's demeanor shifted, from a happy-go-lucky adventurer persona, to what he was really like.

Eyes darted around, scanning for threats, and the scowl rested on his face. He turned to make sure Ana was with him occasionally, but said nothing- just rode on to the next mission, the next task.

 

[Anastasia]

Ana kicked her fine steed into gear, easily keeping pace with him. If he thought his brisk pace and dismissive attitude would disway her, he was wrong. She looked right to him as she fell astride, no timidness to her inquiries.

"Do you even know where we're going? Or are you just winging this?" As far as she was concerned, she was the only one who had been given direction here. But after the comment at the table...

She eyed his reaction keenly.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"I'm following the road."

He replied curtly, before stopping. The road deviated, further up into the hillside. Arnor dismounted, and pointed upwards.

"Old mineshaft will be that way. This was the old access road, as far as I can tell. I heard what the Dwarf said, before you ask. I was ten feet away. I'm not an idiot."

He took his swords and his axe from his horse, before curiously putting only water and...a spare change of clothes in his pack. He turned to stare at the woman, nudging his head.

"Horses will only draw attention. We'll go on foot to catch the Necromancer by surprise. I doubt they're a nocturnal fellow."

 

[Anastasia]

Ana did not disembark. She sat firm on her horse, stubbornly unwilling to go any further.

"What are you not telling me?" She demanded firmly.

To her they were still strangers. The had started out with the barest semblance of trust, and what they had built up had quickly crumbled to the strain of his odd remark at the table.

She did not embark on fights with those she did not trust. Period. It was very clear she was giving one chance to own up to.... whatever the hell he wasn't saying-- her corporation for the rest of the task depended on it.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"A lot."

He stopped, noticing she wasn't following. He turned his head, and his eyes narrowed. He rolled his shoulders back, standing not so much in the casual, slouched way he usually was.

Ana would notice, just how tall Arnor was when he wasn't leaning forward. His casual nature dissipated, gone up in smoke.

"A woman who's either lying about a Templar, or hides the fact she is one from everyone- isn't exactly worth telling everything to. I don't know who you really are, and I have enemies of my own. I'm going down that mine shaft and killing everything inside. You either come with me or you wait for your next big break and make your own way."

He spit what remained of the mint leaf on the ground, and turned away from her, walking back to the mine shaft. He sauntered, not breaking his stride in the slightest for the woman. He seemed to be confident on his ability to handle the situation without her.

 

[Anastasia]

Ana gaped, struck wordless by the accusations she had not seen coming. "Not a Templar?" She practically bellowed back. Her horse bucked and reared, trying to take off only to be help firmly in place.

"I am who I say I am. You're the one telling informants to pretend you've never met--" She felt her words fall on deaf ears, the mercenary pressing deeper in with that same careless attitude he held over breakfast.

"One man against a necromancer and his horde is suicide! See reason! My men will be here soon-- then you can throw whatever you judgement you want at me. At least then you wouldn't be dead!" She tried to reason.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"Reason? I have plenty of reasons to press forward. In fact, I can think of a thousand at the least. You are-" He turned and walked back towards her. He was a big man- but it seemed with him leaning forward, he shared more in common with the animalistic side of his people than he cared to admit.

"You are a pariah for all I am aware. I am after a single man, his undead cretins bother me no more than the Naga did at Knottington. I was alone then, and I am alone now. I fear no creature inside that cave, unlike you."

He turned to begin walking back, rolling his shoulders.

"Corpses, rotting flesh and a pissed off man from the village. Not exactly an army, Templar."

 

[Anastasia]

He was spouting crazy talk.

Ana gaped at him in equal parts concern and pure confusion. A single man against an undead horde was suicide to a normal man. Even in Templar terms-- these creatures did not fall to normal blows. They were unrelenting. Mindless. But a mass of bones that acted like a wall nonetheless. And even once you got past all of that-- tested your endurance, took on wounds, there was still the necromancer to contend with. And they were the true threat. A trained member of the Broken Sword could only hope to come out of such circumstances alive if acting solo.

That was why they worked in groups.

She knew nothing about Anor. She did not catch the references to his name or battles past. She did not know what he was, she only knew what her people could do.

And none of her people would press this attack unless desperate.

"Please!" she called out, her voice cracking in distress. She truly believed he was a dead man walking. Her hand shook subtly at her side.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

Arnor only briefly stopped at the entrance to the cave to drop his pack, then being swallowed by the encroaching darkness of the caverns. He stood in the darkness for a moment, holding the axe at his side. The axe felt weighted at the end, like it should. He said a silent prayer, chanting, before rotating the axe head outwards, and then flinging it forward, as if he was splitting something in half.

A terrible screech echoed throughout the cave, a Ghoul set ablaze by the Axe of Knottington.

Arnor used the pommel of his sword to crush it's skull.

He pulled the axe from it's body, and let out a war cry.

Retribution had come for the Necromancer. The Ghouls were obstacles, pawns to be thrown away. They would not save him. Not against the Spinebreaker.

 

[Anastasia]

Ana cursed softly under her breath, her ears perked to the distinct yet muffled nose of a fight coming from the cave.

Many other Templar’s would walk away and leave the outsider to his own decision. Ana knew she should do the same. Gone were her days of being brash and running headlong into questionable odds. She had Responsibilities, people waiting for her.

His war cry echoed out to her.

She dismounted, yanking out her leathers and pulling them over as a brisk run brought her down the pathway.

She pushed into the cave, her walk careful and alert as she pulled two daggers from the folds of her clothing around her legs. This was a recon, she told herself. Back him up. Get him out. Then run. She sought life, not glory.

A dagger whistler through the air and impaled a ghoul’s throat, catching him moments before it struck a blow at Arnor.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

The dagger flew through the air and found purchase in the ghoul's throat, sending it sprawling away, for only a moment. The Ghoul had no use for life, or breath- but found it entirely inconvenient when his head was caved in by a blow from Arnor's axe.

Ghouls littered the entrance to the mine, staggered in such a way to create a defensive posture.

Arnor only saw, in that dim light, barely lit by the torch- unequal opponents trapped in proximity to him. They were equipped with mining tools, simple boards, and clubs- hardly any warriors among them.

But Arnor there- he was something else. A Nordenfiir, a beast. An animal, rage long since put away uncaged. His axe and his sword were like a chef's knife through vegetables. The Ghouls terrorized villages, peasants. They barely made Arnor squirm. He was a survivor of Belgrath. A Naga-slaying spine-breaker. He slayed Orcs- the Ghouls did not scare him. He stood several dozen meters into the mine, leaving a trail of bodies as evidence of his passing.

He entered the cistern, the exchange where the carts would take coal from place to place, among other minerals. And in that dim light, barely lit with torches- he was surrounded by the undead, in one decaying state or another. But they did not approach. They were afraid.

And they had a right to be.

Alone, outnumbered- but never outclassed, Arnor stood, waiting for them to make their move. He stayed silent, gripping his weapons tightly.

 

[Anastasia]

Ana had never seen the undead afraid before. It was an image that sat wrong inside of her in many levels. Her perception of her work began to slowly tilt, until she glanced a sight of Arnor's expression as he bore down on the ghouls.

Ana straightened slowly straightened in shock, the next dagger she was about to toss withheld as she took in the scene. Words uttered by the villagemen echoed through her mind, subtle clues found to the unspoken warnings they each grumbled.

With no uncertainty, Ana knew Anor was not human. But what, then?

"Anor?" She breathed, her voice entreating him to return to his senses. Or perhaps even just return to her, and they could go-- out of this bad situation and back to a place that was founded firmly in Templar principles.

Like work in groups.

And stay human.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

They came at him slowly, sentience limiting them to valuing their undead lives. Arnor gripped his weapons tightly, advancing on them before they had a chance to react. In the dim light, Arnor disappeared into darkness to Ana. Her cries were met with silence for a moment, as blades stopped meeting each other, and the Ghouls seemed to fall silent.

And then, a great mighty roar. Arnor's clothes flew out of the darkness, curiously enough. It seemed that they were tailor-made to be removed quickly.

Not just for sex, mind you-

But then, there was the great and terrible sound of flesh being torn apart, and bodies cracking, being thrown around. In the darkness, into the dim light that Ana could make out, a Ghoul came screeching out, but was dragged into the darkness again, to be eviscerated.

And from the darkness, came a great and mighty white paw, advancing towards Ana.

And then, the fucking bear spoke.

"Boo."

 

[Anastasia]

A dagger went flying through the air, the light from the cave's mouth reflecting off its length as it went head over heels towards the beast that came over her.

The fire in Ana's gaze softened in shocked understanding, but it came a moment too late, the warmed metal of the blade already slipped from her fingers.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

The white fur, the massive white beast- ducked, but far too late. Red streaked white, and the bear roared.

Then it started cursing, then laughed. Paws swiped away blood from eyes. The scar was minor, considering the beast's size alone. The bear looked down at the girl, before turning to venture further in the cave. Arnor wasn't much of talker in this form.

Kinda offputting for most people.

So, the giant white bear wandered further in, taking up most of the space. And it was on the hunt. And whoever he was hunting-

Was rightfully nervous now.

 

[Anastasia]

The tips of Ana's finger's felt cold as ice as she bent down and retrieved her daggers. The main cavern was cleared now, whatever ghouls he left behind dealt with swiftly by the Templar.

But they weren't the true threat in the end, more like a wall meant to slow. How ironic then, the beast of a mercenary only seemed to speed up in the face of them.

And transform.

That was a thing to process later. Ana thought it foolish to leave the chance behind to depose of the necromancer. Especially when the odds were considerably more in her favor now. Saul would be furious to come to learn of what transpired next, but he was the furthest thing from her mind as she crept deeper in.

The thrill of a fight sang through her veins, leaving a chill at the top of her nose no amount of sniffling could subdue.

Deep in the cavern, the necromancer scattered head first into a thinning tunnel. They hadn't thought they'd need a secondary escape route when they chose the collapsed mine as their home. Weren't the hordes of dead enough security?

Turns out-- no.

The scrawny man fell hands and knees into a partially excavated room, the smell of death thick in the air. Quick and panicked chanting fell from his lips, the corpses of the unrisen miners his next form of defense. How had the last wave fallen so quickly? If only he had been stronger, he could have already possessed a larger horde.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

The tunnel was too small for Arnor's massive size-

Some would later comment when Arnor was retelling the story that at this point, he was bearly fitting into any crevice in the cave. With a snarl, the bear walked back to the entrance, and transformed back-

And put his pants back on, albeit nothing more. Picking up his sword, Arnor came creeping out of the darkness, standing besides the Templar. There was only a small cut above his eye, lightly bleeding.

Arnor looked over at the Templar, balancing the sword in his hands, thinking.

"Maybe the pretty lady can convince the wizard to come quietly and face the town rather than the edge of our swords. Prison might be better than being run through, after all."

 

[Anastasia]

Ana's gaze was wide and uncertain on Arnor, her knuckles tight on the blades she clutched in her fist. But at least she did not chuck them at him this time.

How strange the air would feel around her. As if it was vibrating, alive. ...Sapping the magic out of anything that came within a three foot radius of her.

Ana's nostrils flared as she considered Arnor. In her gut she did not mark him as a threat. And she had let many of other magical creatures walk pass for bigger displays of magic. Still. There was something to be said about how he disposed of the whole horde of ghouls.

He could do the same to a village just as quickly.

But until he did...

"Prison is no place for a necromancer," she concluded softly. She brushed past him, sliding into the chamber where the necromancer and his dark magic grew.

What happened next would be hard to catch, the unlit crevice flashing a sudden bright light. His frantic chanting cut off into a sudden scream, then gurgle. The subtle rattling of bones fell into silence as the incantation was never finished.

Ana emerged, squeezing herself out with a bloody dagger in hand. Her expression was grim, her lips pinched tight and brows furrowed. If someone didn't know any better, they might say the Templar was close to tears.

"It is dealt with," she uttered softly.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

Arnor didn't say anything to Ana- he didn't need to. He was the one to collect the body, walking past her and saying nothing else. He swaddled the Necromancer in his own robes, and hoisted him over his own shoulders. He lead Ana outside, hand gently on her back.

He felt nothing but pity for her- the corpse on his shoulder was nothing more than a paycheck. He threw the corpse over the back of Rhi as he exited the cave- collecting his clothes as he went, and his axe. He turned as he re-dressed, facing Ana.

"There's only one more part to this, you know. And it's arguably just as important as what just happened."

He looked towards the direction of the town.

"We have to go face the people and tell them that it was the Templar that removed the necromancer." He pulled his boots on, letting his chest breathe for a long while, before slipping his cuirass back on. He wanted to lighten the mood, feeling the weight of her actions creeping up on her.

"If you think I'm bad, keep in mind there's thousands more like me north of here."

 

[Anastasia]

Ana slowly shook her head, her gaze distant as she seemed to be staring elsewhere.

"If that was suppose to be a reassurance, it was shit." Thousands more of people like him? It was no wonder why Templar of old eradicated without discrimination. The very concept of five him ravaging a town was enough to spark fear in her heart.

All it took was a few bad eggs.

It was hard to give chances when you've seen the damage misplaced trust leaves behind.

A glance at the limp form over his chest was enough to remind her the cost of protecting the greater good. '

She quickly looked away, the softeness of her heart sending a sheen over her eyes. Not your typical warrior, then. "You should have told me beforehand," she croaked, moving towards the mouth of the cave.

 

[Arnor Skuldsson]

"My people don't leave the Tundra. Your reassurance is that there are thousands of me, and you have yet to see one." He looked down at the Templar, climbing onto his horse. Watching her do the same, the pair began the short ride back to the town.

"It is not often I meet someone who hasn't heard the stories. I thought the Svalen marks would give it away." He pointed to the glyphs on his cheek. "My people have their own problems, their own woes." Rhi gave a short, hardy snarl. He agreed.

"You should tell them that it was a Templar and the Axe that saved their town. Sounds like you could use a few good deeds told about the Templars. What do you call it-" He paused, thinking for a moment.

"Advertisement?"

 

[Anastasia]

Ana frowned, unable to deny the truth of his words.

She hadn't met people like him before, but that was just as much because she was uneducated as his people were scarce. Valerie probably knew of his kind. Probably even met one.

But Ana kept that to herself, troubled on many layers now.

"The same could be said about you. The names the dwarf called you. Bearman. I thought that was just for the hair." She cleared her throat, wiping a spray of red blood from her face.

"They fear you. ....They hate you." They weren't too different in those regards, it seemed.