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The Norsark Cycle

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Fauxlosophe Since: Aug, 2010
#1: Aug 12th 2015 at 12:19:45 PM

Each of you received a letter a couple days past, which caused you to rush to Norsark. The messenger was evidently in a rush, either to bring it to the next recipient or to return home.

There were some mild flourishes and variants between the letters (as is wont to happen when you rewrite without intending to reproduce an exact copy), but in general, they read as follows;

"Dear (Receiptiant),

At some point in the previous years, you've made quite the impression on our Hrolf. As you might have heard Eorle Guthrun passed some months ago of natural causes but young Hrolf has been inconsolable and in a strange humour. He's always been well intentioned but impulsive, as you well know, but I fear Guthrun's death has clouded his judgement.

As such, I ask of you, as his friends from kinder days far removed from the politics of Edinhelm, that you might come and see to it that his spirits are lifted so that the dark cloud cast over our people by his mother's passing might finally be lifted.

I'll see to your hosting and ensure your travel expenses are paid. I beg your hasty travel for the sake of your friendship with him and I look forward to making your acquaintances.

May Njord see to your safe travels,

Eorl Feng of Edinhelm"

You have arrived, after some travel, at Edinhelm. It is one of the larger cities in the Northernlands; the high wooden walls, whose pillars are from this angle, almost indistinguishable from those of the slowly moving trade ships coming into port in the distance. You can hear a bustle of activity on the streets accross the wall. Though you can only catch snippets, you can tell the subject of the day is the upcoming harvest and income from the homebound sailors. Above the ceaseless chatter and trade of the city stands a solitary stone keep, secured by a bailey. It flies the standard of Edinhelm and the King of Norsark, but none the less, it bears a certain barren and foreboding air. Nearer to you, above the palisades at the edge of town, you can see many spears heads glistening in the sunlight as they look over the somewhat unruly crowds below.

Before you are what looks to be a troupe of actors sitting at the back of a carriage. In the front, their leader seems to be negotiating passage and arguing with the head guard; both of them are halflings and have slipped into their barely-understandable dialect. Those in the back are sitting quietly, nursing hastily covered wounds and looking curiously at the strange crowd forming behind them.

edited 14th Aug '15 4:58:51 PM by Fauxlosophe

daltar (4 Score & 7 Years Ago)
#2: Aug 12th 2015 at 1:43:56 PM

The messenger meant to hand over the letter to a one Sigrun Akerman had to travel far into a cold land and then through a wild road only to then be told his recipient wasn't to be found in civilized lands. Waiting for her wasn't an option, it seemed... but neither was it handing the letter to someone else. Thus came the decision to chase after this woman who he had been bound to find... given a wiry, wild eyed youth for a guide he set off into true wilderness and possibly the most exhausting three days of his life as he was guided through massive forests, climbing steep hills and crossing wild rivers all while avoiding all sorts of predators in the untamed North.

He couldn't stop... and the wild youth drove him at a crazed pace. By the end of the third day when the messenger was left in a dazed trance of putting one pained foot after the other he suddenly stumbled onto the person he was seeking. When he was told to seek Sigrun Akerman, a young heiress of the North he probably wasn't expecting what sat before him.

All during the travel, the wild eyed youth who guided him was someone disconcerting to the city man. However those eyes were nothing compared to the inhuman blue orbs of the Akerman princess... eyes which belonged to a beast instead of a man. Her hair too was uncommon... a mix of sheer black and silver mimicking the pattern of the wolf pelt she wore around her shoulders. The wind was bitter cold, but while others in her party wore heavy pelts and armor made of tough hide Sigrun seemed perfectly comfortable wearing light clothing. She sat upon a big boulder, eating a nearly rare piece of meat, ripping it off from the bone with long, strong canines. She met the ragged man with humor and a bright smile... confident and at ease in the wild lands and her mood was shared by her party... all of which seemed to share into her mood, to a lesser degree touched by the wild power which seemed to exude from the woman.

Not a hunting party... a pack nearly they seemed. Thus the title he had heard back in court, of the Wolf Princess of the North seemed well earned. With unsteady hands he moved closer, handing over the letter... the nice paper on which it was written being stained with blood as she opened... eyes scanning the content he had struggled so dearly to deliver to those blue eyes only... eyes that as she read he was startled to realize turned a terrifying golden color. Once she was done with it she made as if to throw the letter away, standing up suddenly... but thinking for a moment she put it into a pocket. Taking another bite from the meat before lobbing it to someone else, she wiped her mouth clean with the back of her hand and walked to a nearby tree... where a pair of axes lay stuck by the edge, reaching nearly past the middle of the blade. With a single pull she released them from the tree and called onto the pack... For someone to carry the messenger. Even though night was about to fall she gave the order... They had a new destination... and would be parting immediately.

The poor messenger whimpered as then he was lifted by a veritable bear of a man and they began a run into the darkness.


Given her location it had taken a long while for the news to reach Sigrun of poor Hrolf's distress... however, the Wolf Princess had made sure to compensate for it by tracing a nearly straight line in her course towards Edinhelm. She parted halfway there with her pack... it was she who was friends with the heir of the Eorl and they had a sacred duty to perform in the hunt. They wouldn't let their beloved leader just part without standing guard by her for a while but once she spotted a good herd of game it was the perfect place to split from them with the first kill from it for her to carry in her dash to Edinhelm.

Her pace was quick, only stopping to sleep and take the chances to forage she may on the way... then she crossed the sea, finding easy passage due to her status... and once again on land she resumed her march. When she was close to her destination to bathe and wipe away the blood and soil of her travel through the wilds. Thus she arrived by the gates... twin battleaxes strapped by her sides, javelins and handaxes on her pack and a horn on her hand which she blew into a few notes as she approached the gates.

It was a while since she had last visited the place... a time before she had communed and become one with the spirit of the wolf. It was a changed place... the foreboding aura of the place, the nervousness and unruliness... the spears over the wall like a wolf baring their fangs. Something wasn't quite alright here. Yet, Sigrun approached the gates openly and boldly towards the guards and the acting troupe, standing tall as she blows again on her horn "Make pass! I ran long and far to answer a call... I'm Sigrun Akerman, Battle-born, of the Akerman Clan, friends of Norsark. I come to meet with Hrolf"

edited 12th Aug '15 2:17:57 PM by daltar

Fauxlosophe Since: Aug, 2010
#3: Aug 12th 2015 at 2:49:00 PM

A young human guard who had before been silent, tentatively raised her spear at the great bounding vagabond.

The Halfling Guard turned suddenly from his conversation to shout at the guard in his halfling tongue, "Linne!" as he grabbed the elbow of the guard

She paused and switched to the common tongue of the peninsula,

"If you're here for some company from the North, you're welcome here. Give your standard and I'll send word of your arrival. If you're here for Hrolf, I had not heard of it. I'll need some token, or you'll wait as I send word."

edited 12th Aug '15 3:01:32 PM by Fauxlosophe

daltar (4 Score & 7 Years Ago)
#4: Aug 12th 2015 at 3:45:11 PM

"The mere sight of me is proof of my claims... however, I shouldn't expect that to suffice past the cold sea. I look a little different from the last time I was around, as well... however, Norsark seems to be greeting travelers with bared teeth and shut doors" she says looking up again at the spears lining the walls "Very well then... if those who man the gates need confirmation of my words, I have many" she says, reaching into her pocket to produce the very letter addressed to her "Will the signature of your Eorl suffice? If not you may look for a defender of this city... A man called Halfstad. He was a guard of some importance last time I hunted in your lands together with Hrolf... and if he doesn't remember my face then he's sure to remember how he was left after we wrestled" says the wolfish woman with a grin before she produces her horn "Finally... if none of those are appropriate then take my horn and show it to whoever is to give permission for me to pass... engraved upon it lay the signs of my clan, of my family and my deeds. That would be my standard from where I come from. Do what you must to follow your vows to your rulers and do your duty, I only bid you to make haste. My bonds of friendship urge me to race to he who may need of me"

Fauxlosophe Since: Aug, 2010
#5: Aug 12th 2015 at 4:21:32 PM

The Halfling frowned, "Halfstad will do you no good turn; he fell to a bandit's arrow last winter."

The halfling actress protested the shift of attention; "We ne bideth on seo wudewasa. Laet us passen!"

"Linne, leodwine. Ic sende minne mann."

He sighed and approached Sigrun to inspect the document, signaling the other guard to keep an eye on the Halflings troop. She was greeted by a barrage of insults in the Halfling cant.

The clearly exasperated Halfling looked over the papers, "That looks like Feng's signature. I will send you along."

"Synne, take her to Feng."

The female guard sighed with relief, as the Halfling returned to the bickering with the troope.

edited 13th Aug '15 8:08:30 AM by Fauxlosophe

daltar (4 Score & 7 Years Ago)
#6: Aug 12th 2015 at 5:18:38 PM

"Sad for us in the mortal lands to be deprived of his laughter, sadder still for the enemies of his clan on the beyond when he gets there" says Sigrun, a bit saddened by the news that it was an arrow that took the brave man... not even an enemy who had the balls to fight him front to front.

Still, seemed like there was worth in keeping the letter after all... she took back her horn and prepared herself to follow the female guard "How are things in Norsark? There is an ominous air around... I don't need a keen nose to catch it"

edited 13th Aug '15 12:18:56 PM by daltar

amporiusrex Bark Bark Man from Dunkland, USA Since: Apr, 2014 Relationship Status: Coming soon to theaters
Bark Bark Man
#7: Aug 12th 2015 at 10:46:21 PM

This messenger didn't have to look all that hard for his target. Wherever the largest center of commerce was in his area was a good place to start, of course; if she wasn't there currently, she had at least passed by somewhat recently. The traces of her work could still be seen in the leatherworking of the more well off folk, who would gladly tell the messenger of the artisan's next location, often offering a suggestion of a purchase on the way.

Asking the shopkeepers usually just netted a grunt or a rude remark involving customers or some slur involving gnomes, and occasionally a comment about "being glad that theif was gone". And that theiving was of course referring to the loss of their customers.

Atrebaten was the latest destination. A port town that generally served as a portion of Noluen's income. Her shop, rented, was rather easy to notice.. since there wasn't a single customer there. Apparently a new merchant had moseyed on into town with some unheard of technique passed down "through generations." And this merchant happened to have set his stall directly in front of Noluen's shop.

Certainly the gnome didn't look happy, positively furious actually, but her mood improved upon receiving the letter.

"Oh yeah, Hrolf, I know him.. yeah, he wanted me to set up permanent shop in his lands, but.. I'm not really set on staying anywhere... Oh, wait, he's gone off into some trouble? Now.. I wouldn't normally leave.. but it could be inter..stin.. Hm.."

She spoke her thoughts aloud to no one really since the messenger had gone and left. She took several glances at the stall in front of her, then at the letter then back at the stall.

After about a minute of this charade she gave in to her curiosity/adventure-lust and packed up what she could into her bag. Noluen then went to the Leatherworker's guild room (a rather small affair given that this was a seaside place) and entrusted a worker there with her remaining leatherworks, offering them as payment for her guild membership.

Papers signed and notices penned, Noluen made her way to Edinhelm (taking advantage of her free travel expenses). Not that she would have had trouble navigating the forests and wilds between here and there, being a ranger and all, but it was nice to take the cushy civilized way for once.

She made her way up to the main entrance without a hitch and looked around for anyone who might clue her in a bit more.

edited 12th Aug '15 11:24:14 PM by amporiusrex

"Gimme your pants.. and now your other pants"
nman Since: Mar, 2010
#8: Aug 12th 2015 at 11:32:30 PM

"Fear not, people of Norsark, Salvator has arrived," a voice boomed from behind the people gathered at the gate. A half elf wearing an odd-looking armor made of leather approached the guards. "I have been summoned by the Eorl himself, soon I shall save Edinhelm from what ails it."

Fauxlosophe Since: Aug, 2010
#9: Aug 13th 2015 at 8:38:04 AM

"Synne, give a look to see if Feng has any more that he has invited and let them pass," The tired Halfling sighed and turned back to his quarrel.

Synne signalled the two adventurers to her in order to check their papers with a raised arm.

The nervous young guard turned to Sigrun, "Um... I'll kind of need... to see the letter. I haven't really seen Eorl Feng's signature yet."

daltar (4 Score & 7 Years Ago)
#10: Aug 13th 2015 at 12:20:58 PM

"Hmm? Your superior already vouched for it, didn't he?" says Sigrun... wolves can smell fear, but even a nose and eye blind person could notice the jittery anxiety on the guard... things must be really bad lately. Still, Sigrun held the letter in her hand showing the signature for a moment before saying "Is it really that bad?"

Fauxlosophe Since: Aug, 2010
#11: Aug 13th 2015 at 5:34:19 PM

"Oh," The soldier shook her head embarrassed, "I trust Coenrad's word. It... just sounds like there are a few others..."

She looked up, "I hadn't seen Eorl Feng's signature yet, so I needed another look at yours."

She smiled awkwardly and looked to the others, "Assuming, the... Brecqhouloner? Is here on similar business."

"Is... there anyone else with a summon directly from Lord Feng?" Her voice raised just barely above regular volume, as she looked tenatively around the crowd.

daltar (4 Score & 7 Years Ago)
#12: Aug 13th 2015 at 7:19:34 PM

"Ah, you're turning back to check the others?" says Sigrun after she was done showing her letter and the signature to the female guard "Hmm... seems like many may have been called to deal with this issue..."

amporiusrex Bark Bark Man from Dunkland, USA Since: Apr, 2014 Relationship Status: Coming soon to theaters
Bark Bark Man
#13: Aug 13th 2015 at 7:57:34 PM

Noluen walked over to Synne, letter at the ready. It was mostly pristine, if a bit crumpled from being folded in half a few times in order to fit into her pocket.

"Yes, I'm one of the.. apparent group of people called in to help young Hrolf. The name is Noluen Kerleroux, I'm sure you've heard of me."

"Gimme your pants.. and now your other pants"
Hydrall Since: Jun, 2009
#14: Aug 13th 2015 at 8:49:40 PM

Water dripped slowly down the stone of the walls, running in rivulets to a small basin set halfway up the wall. There was always snow in Jotunrike, and where there was snow there was meltwater - and this was what the prisoner would drink, here in the darkest, lowest cell of the cliffside fortress of Thegnsborg. Now and then the crack of ice breaking rang in the cold air, and a salt-tasting breeze blew through the narrow window of the cell - too narrow to crawl through. It was close to the sea, and judging by the salt crusting the floor and bars of this cell it would be half-filled at high tide. Quite the cruel imprisonment.

The messenger gripped her letter tightly in her hand, shoulders squared as she was led down the spiral staircase deep within the fortress. The guards had been less than inclined to allow her entry, but a signed letter from an Eorl, even one from Norsark, held a certain degree of weight in this land. The two lands still shared a common language and, to a lesser degree, culture; there was mutual respect there, both for their dignity and their strength. Even if the letter was addressed to a prisoner.

Of course, the pouch of gold that she had presented alongside the letter had helped. But it sounded better with that little detail omitted.

She was surprised to watch the guards back away after she stepped into the damp corridor, retreating to the safety of the staircase and vanishing from sight. It was more than a little unnerving, in truth, but she supposed they had little to worry about - the bars and walls of this cage were solid steel and stone, recently mortared and far too tough for the average hand to break. Even worn by the high tide's unpleasant washings, it was a sturdy set of cells. A number of nails had been driven into the stone alone the walls, sigils of the jarl hanging proudly from them just above the crusting of salt; a constant reminder of the ruler of this place, safe from the decay of the sea.

Once she caught sight of the prisoner, however, she wondered if they might be overconfident. A half-orc - as huge as they often came, sitting with his back against one of the walls of the cell. A ragged blanket lay bundled on the floor next to him, and a few chunks of broken stone lay on the ground. His hair was grown out, long and shaggy on the back but cut short in the front, but the only real clue to his heritage was the odd, grey-green tint to his skin - and the way his lower, tusk-like teeth glinted when he smiled. "Well," he said, his voice a rich bass, "I wasn't expecting a visitor. Are you here to free me, perhaps?"

The messenger shook her head, wordlessly extending her hand - passing the letter between the bars. When he didn't move to take it, she gently tossed it over. The half-orc caught it and pulled the letter open, his eyes squinting to view the text in the dim darkness of the cells. After a few moments he shut it again, looking pensive. "... A trip to the south may be..." His eyes flicked to the staircase. "Good for my health." He smiled again, a glint of white in the darkness as he tossed the letter back. "But I'm afraid I'm imprisoned here - thanks to my mouth being far quicker than my sense. Take that as you may." He leaned back against the wall, eyes shutting. "Before you go, mærin..." He gestured vaguely to the stony wall above the cell. "There are nails there, yes? Would you give me one, please?" He nodded at the wall, where a number of scratches had been carved. "I have been keeping track of my imprisonment, but the stone of this cell is difficult to crack - and all I have are other stones with which to scratch at it. A nail would help with this." Another smile. "The guards seem strangely unwilling to give me one." Dubious, but unable to find a particular reason not to, the messenger found an untouched nail and gave it an experimental tug - the stone was loose around it, and the iron spike came loose easily. She tossed it in, where it clinked on the stone floor. "Excellent."

"Will you be released soon?" the messenger asked. It wouldn't do to return in failure...

"Oh, yes. Tell Eorl Feng that I will be..." He leaned forward, picking up the nail and looking at it thoughtfully. "Leaving quite soon. Within the hour, I should think." He smiled up at her. "Run along, now. With any luck, I shall meet you at the port by sunrise."

In fact, it was nearly two hours before he stepped out between the bars of his cell, slipping the nail into his pocket. He pulled the saltwater-soaked rags from his hands, glancing about the dank cells. Yes, the guards weren't watching - it seemed they assumed the meager defenses that they had were sufficient. Pathetic.

He'd need a sword. That was step one - and he'd need his gear back. It was somewhere in the castle, he was sure - finding it wouldn't be easy. Finding it without being thrown back into his cell would be harder - assuming they didn't just spit him the moment they saw him first. Yes, and some new clothes... The ones he had on certainly would Not Do for making an appearance in a new Jarl's court, especially not those of Norsark. It was an opportunity, after all; his old set had been far too casual. Perhaps something formal might fit better, something impressive and imposing...

But the tide was rising, and he had no time to waste. Head held high and the strains of epics he might recite echoing in his head, Aeskell Urimakssen started up the spiral staircase - the red-hot, melted and bent iron bars of his cell hissing behind him as the sea rushed in.

Things were looking up.


"Come on, mate. They're not hangin' anybody." The tailor sighed, shaking his head. "An' I doubt the troupe's going to be puttin' on a show any time soon. Look like they came off bad with a grain flail."

"They're still asking if anyone's got letters, so there's probably more folks-" His companion swore as he was elbowed aside, the human grunting as he turned to face the stranger. "What's the idea, arr..." He trailed off, staring up at the stranger as his eyes widened.

Aeskell blinked, the half-orc turning to look down at the human - easily towering over him and the rest of the crowd. He wore a heavy black cloak over his armor, its edges lined with silver-brown bear's fur, and he'd replaced his tattered clothing with fine-cut black-and-green tunic and trousers beneath his scale mail. They might have blended well with the seaside taiga forests of Jotunrike, but here in the city streets they simply made the half-orc seem larger than before. There was a sword at his belt as well, and from half-hidden beneath the cloak poked the silhouette of a shield and quiver hanging off his back. "My apologies," he murmured, turning away to continue towards the gates.

He heard one of the townsfolk mutter "Big bastard, ain't he?" behind him, and the half-orc smiled grimly.

As he approached the gates, the well-dressed skald reached to his pouch, producing the (rather crumpled) letter from where he'd stowed it. "I apologize for my lateness," he said, inclining his head towards the guards. "I am Skald Aeskell Urimakssen, of Jotunrike." He noted the others, already here. There was an elf of some sort, whose loud voice had been the first thing he'd heard as he approached the castle; A red-headed gnome as well, looking somewhat lost. And near the front, chatting with the guards... One of his own people, he could only assume. Judging by her hide armor's make, she was one of the forest clans' folks; the almost nomadic hunters that traveled the taiga and generally were a thorn in the side of the more settled coastal raiders and farmers. Her hair and eyes, however, left him stumped. He'd heard of very few who might look like that - and none of them were the sort he expected to run into in a place like this.

nman Since: Mar, 2010
#15: Aug 14th 2015 at 12:46:23 AM

"I have not been summoned, I have been requested," Salvator said to the guards. "One implies dominance between two parties, and one establishes that both parties share a mutual respect for each other. I am Salvator Dubois, Champion of Wivenhoe, Guardian of Nature, Scion of Máni, and your Eorl has requested my aid. "

Fauxlosophe Since: Aug, 2010
#16: Aug 14th 2015 at 3:32:22 PM

"I... can't really say I know what to make of that," Synne shrugged at the bombastic Elf, while looking over the papers over the other two, "Okay. All of them look... about right."

She turned and led the way through the gate, "Come along."

She turned as the gate slowly opened at the signal. She walked through the Palisade's garrison, leaving behind the squabbling Halflings.

In spite of highly increased guard, the town was bustling with activity. People spoke in Sassen, Jotun and Halfling. Out in the docks, far in the east of the city, traders speaking Elvish cants, Low and High Common, even Dwarvish dotted the docks. Familiar tongues to Noluen. But here, far from the sea and near the Keep overlooking the castle, conversation was kept to more familiar tongues. Here, rather than distant trade, the focus was on the coming harvest and excited chattering about the money to be made from the settling of the Traders for the coming winter months.

Noluen would remark that some of the guard seemed to keep to themselves and to distrust other elements. Keeping their distance and bearing none of Edinhelm's distinctive markings.

Synne turned to Sigrun, "It has been... a bit tense since the Eorle died. The Sassens have been gathering their forces... Guthrun's blade gave them pause but with her passed?"

She sighed, "Well, it likely won't be long before they're over the Tuid heading to Edinhelm. Feng is hoping to keep peace... but... well, I wouldn't let my blade go dull waiting."

She paused, "You got through quick because Coenred recognized the letter from before. A Dwarf came by before from the West... and he had to wait while someone confirmed the letter with Feng himself. I... think he only came a few hours before the rest of you. It's... tricky here with letters, I can tell you from... well, personal experience."

edited 14th Aug '15 4:59:08 PM by Fauxlosophe

daltar (4 Score & 7 Years Ago)
#17: Aug 14th 2015 at 4:37:04 PM

"Ah so the Sassen's will act the way of crows, is it? If they were too cowardly to attack a mighty foe they twice reveal their lack of honor massing just after their watch has ended" says Sigrun, shaking her head "If they are as you say, nothing but a show of strength will keep them from following the scent of blood"

Sigrun didn't expect to find war on this travel South... however, if that was the way the Gods willed it, then from how she heard things she wouldn't mind giving the Sassen's something new to fear.

Fauxlosophe Since: Aug, 2010
#18: Aug 14th 2015 at 5:15:43 PM

"Well... there's always the matter of family affairs," Synne said, "Audhild may still think this place is her son's birthright. So she's taking her husband's retinue and playing to Aethelred's ear about reclaiming ancient lands."

Synne's expression turned sad. She took another couple of steps and paused.

She paused and spoke in a hushed tone, "Guthrun was the best of the four sisters... to speak the truth. Now, what are we to make of her passing? Now that Hrolf has been passed over... honestly Audhild has a stronger..."

She frowned and looked up, "We're nearly there, now."

edited 14th Aug '15 5:19:56 PM by Fauxlosophe

Parable Since: Aug, 2009
#19: Aug 15th 2015 at 3:31:57 PM

The dwarf from the west who had been required to wait was, in fact, still waiting. Not that Caradoc minded too much, this was just another uneventful moment on what had been an uneventful journey. Granted, a journey long delayed due to the letter intended for him arriving late. Over the mountains and through the woods to house the messenger went. Using information bought from two strapping young lads, he had taken a shortcut through the forest between him and his destination in the hills. After twelve grueling hours of aimless wandering however, followed by twelve horrifying minutes of being chased by wolves, he was left to conclude that he was lost. His hopes of making it back out alive dropped considerably when he himself dropped into a pit trap and sprained his ankle. Then it started raining.

Several hours of shouting, groaning, and weeping later, the messenger was just about to welcome death via pneumonia when by the grace of the gods an elven priestess chanced by. Her well intended but poorly executed plan to haul the messenger out with a rope ended with her losing her footing and falling into the hole, now a muddy pool, with him. The silver lining in all this being that with her healing magic she was able to fix his ankle and ward of any sickness from both of them.

The day and night passed, the two shared names and stories and soggy bread. By coincidence, they were both heading for the same town in the hills, both were carrying messages, and both had gotten lost. Eventually, the trapper himself showed up and hauled them out. Offering to lead them out once he had finished his rounds across the forest, the two messengers followed the trapper. Fate forced them in a different direction yet again when they ran into a thief who had made her getaway from a sorcerer practicing nefarious magic in hiding in the forest. Her loot; an important book of spells compiled by the dark magician. Not realizing its importance, she ditched it in favor of some more useful items from the trio, including the messenger's pack, with the message inside it. The priestess, however, did realize how important the spell book was, and refused to turn it over to the sorcerer when he came seeking it. After he turned violent, the messenger, priestess, and trapper fled. Hunting the thief for their possessions while being hunted by the sorcerer for his, the trio trekked across fields, scaled waterfalls, camped in trees, caught and lost the thief twice (partly the messenger's fault, he was not immune to the feminine wiles of an on the edge woman like the thief), and narrowly escaped the sorcerer's wrath.

After days of this cat and mouse game, the group caught the thief inside, of all places, the trapper's hamlet just outside the forest. Unfortunately, it was also where the sorcerer caught up with them as well. A mighty struggle ensued in the middle of the village as the sorcerer reclaimed his book and called upon his dark arts to lay waste to everything and everyone in sight. Messenger, priestess, trapper, and even thief joined in to oppose the mad warlock. It was a mighty struggle, one worthy of a hundred songs from a hundred bards. Lighting flashed and thunder crashed, the earth shook in rage. Finally, a knife strike from the messenger deep into his black heart felled the sorcerer.

The village was saved, and the grateful townsfolk honored the heroes with a day long celebration. At last, though, it was time to return to their original journey. Messenger and priestess went back to deliver their messages. The trapper, honoring his long ago promise, led them through the forest and almost right to their destination. The thief, figuring it was better to leave before her reputation caught up with her, left with them, but slipped away just before they entered the sleep little town called home, two weeks after the messenger had departed from Norsark.

Caradoc half listened to this tale from the ragged and hungry looking duo while he read the letter from the eorl.

"You know, if you two had just stayed on the main road you would have gotten here in three days." he mentioned after he had finished reading,

That was the first time he had ever heard a priestess use such colorful language.

The next day the dwarf set out with the messenger and elf back to Norsark, departing from their company after reaching the city. The trip was uneventful, the wait outside the gate mildly annoying, and the current wait equally so. Patience was a virtue, one Caradoc had learned to appreciate.

He would be lying if the current tension in the city did not bother him though. The atmosphere was sharply different from his own quaint little village. Caradoc was more out of the loop than he had realized. That did fill him with some concern, mostly for the person he had come to see. Hrolf was not the kind of person who liked gloom and tension, but their correspondence over the years had made no mention of this. Why had it fallen to Feng to call upon him? What state of mind was Hrolf in that required family to call in far away friends with the hopes they had a medicine for melancholy that home failed to provide? Caradoc was eager to meet his old friend again, as much for the simple pleasure of renewing filial ties as for placating his own worries.

There were footsteps. Caradoc pushed away his concerns and craned his neck, leaning forward to see who else was being brought in.

edited 15th Aug '15 3:33:06 PM by Parable

Fauxlosophe Since: Aug, 2010
#20: Aug 15th 2015 at 6:00:14 PM

Caradoc would see the approaching group; a chatty guard, followed by what looked to be an Elf, a Gnome, a Northerner and... an Orc?

The Guard looked like she was only after whispering something and continued now with a silently quickened pace over the silence.

Parable Since: Aug, 2009
#21: Aug 16th 2015 at 2:01:39 PM

Caradoc watched the mix and matched group with interest as they came closer. They looked like the only people here going somewhere with purpose. Maybe he could get the leader of this wagon train to give him some direction.

"Guard!" he called. "Might you be so kind as to point me where I should be for a meeting with the eorl?"

The dwarf held up his letter as evidence that he needed to be somewhere, anywhere but sitting here.

Fauxlosophe Since: Aug, 2010
#22: Aug 16th 2015 at 4:45:44 PM

Synne looked over, then squinted at the letter, "Wotan's Eye!" She said startled, "I remember you from before. Have you been left here?"

"We're on our way to Feng now, just inside of the Keep. Coenrad... he'll have to have a chat with whoever left you like this."

With that, she appeared before the porter, whom with a quick trade of words let the party enter. The inside of the castle was elegant. The wooden floor spoke of status but over it was fine carpeting. Tapestries and Banners spoke of status. The first floor was a bit of a labyrinth of halls; numerous rooms scattered about.

nman Since: Mar, 2010
#23: Aug 16th 2015 at 4:53:04 PM

Salvator whistled. "I see they spared no expense on this Keep," he said, glancing at the flooring.

daltar (4 Score & 7 Years Ago)
#24: Aug 16th 2015 at 5:16:34 PM

"Long march through much luxury..." says Sigrun with her arms behind her head as she looks around and lets out a little whistle at the arranged tapestries and nice adornments. She didn't think much of the wooden floor, appreciating more a strong floor than a fancy one, though she did like the pretty things around here. She was impressed though not exactly in the manner a native of Norsark would be "Wonder in which part of this great maze is my friend..."

amporiusrex Bark Bark Man from Dunkland, USA Since: Apr, 2014 Relationship Status: Coming soon to theaters
Bark Bark Man
#25: Aug 16th 2015 at 7:37:18 PM

Noluen whistled. This place was as big as she remembered. Sure, the outside was a bit off since everyone seemed nervous and apprehensive, but the inside was definitely the same. Tapestries and other emblems of status littering the room only served to remind her of Hrolf's high upbringing, which the man didn't often seem to represent fully.

"I would love to laze around in a place like this, but Gods know I would go mad from lack of work. Speaking of work, I do wonder when they are going to send us after Hrolf to cheer the man up a tad.."

She kept walking with the rest of the group, though personally moving a bit faster in order to keep up. The group, which of course was some kind of scruffy elf, an even scruffier orc, a rather bestial looking barbarian wearing some quality furs, and a dwarf. The dwarf seemed the most normal of the group, to be completely honest.

"Gimme your pants.. and now your other pants"

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