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Frostfall
Topic Started: Jan 5 2014, 11:49 PM (153 Views)
Pandasaur
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Beginnings
Frostfall 89 A.A.
"We came with fire and steel, we came with unyielding desire and unlimited yet power; yet even that was not enough to conquer the Wargods of the north. It was we that wakened the slumbering giant, and now we will forever pay in blood."
- Dastana Silwen, 7th Legion Commander
Iskaer'dagir
 
   She watched the great serpent with wide, unflinching eyes. A thousand flames danced in the howling winter winds in long columns of glinting flashes. Forever it stretched, its jagged form without joints or cohesion. It scraped by, each step a quake, an echo that raced down the weathered brick of the southland. Through the flurries of white she glanced the blood red of the monster's metal scales and claws sheathed in leather. She twisted and leaned forward, pushed the snow-covered branch that hid her aside and stared. At the head two golden, square horns rose into the night sky, illuminated by the serpent's own fire. Imprinted there in black was a blade wreathed in flame. The mark of death.
   A sudden crack drew her attention. The wood beneath her snapped. She wrapped her nimble arms around the branch in front of her and hoisted her torso over the top. Her body dangled, yet she continued to watch, her gaze latched to the front. There she saw a great, white manned creature leave the road. Upon its back sat a man, a warrior, clad in the gold and red plate of the beast. Age made home in his countenance, sunken eyes of piercing crystal, blue as the ice that ruled the north; blue as her own. He turned his head and pulled on a set of reigns and for a moment they met. One stare into the other. Stern, harsh, yet controlled, she felt a chill down her spine. She froze. There, about his neck, hung a gem of of starlight, a shimmering, white glare. It emanated a warmth, even at a distance, a sweet succor that pulled her forward. The cold melted around her muscles and she lifted an arm, reaching out. Another crack.
   The tumble from tree to ground was padded by a drift. She grunted, curled her body up and rolled her shoulders forward, lessening the impact and rolling forward into the brush. A flurry of hands brushed the stray snow from her fur bundle of a coat before she hoisted herself up and popped up out of the prickly bushes. The man was gone, the warmth vanished. The beast continued its steady march. She could only see a faint glimmer of the horns now. A faint memory that sauntered off into a forgotten darkness. Her shoulders hunched forward. A thick trail of vapor escaped her lips and she fell back with a muffled thud, her arms and legs sprawled out beside her. She lay there, gazing upward at the clouded night and watched the flakes of Frostfall descend from the heavens.
   Through the haze she imagined the flowing auroras of year's end. They were there she knew, obscured by the weather, but in a clear sky they were visible for endless leagues. Bright beacons of orange and green, a myriad of flamboyant, rich colors that ebbed as a tide, tendrils of celestial ribbons that flew far from her reach. Weaved within were the constellations of heroes and monsters; stars that aligned the seasons. Tyir the Helcleaver, the Ice Wyrm of the Upper Reaches, all visible, yet shrouded by the waves of intangible energy. Even the Unnamed Heroin, the array that lead north and held the brightest star short of Lunais' Moon. Oft she looked to that constellation, oft she mused on why, of all the heroes, only she held no name.
   "Suhali!"
   Damn. The girl pushed herself onto her side and hopped up to her heels. She set her leather boots into a low crouch with a quiet crunch and looked up to find the male image of herself not but an arms length away. They shared a height, build, and color, light tan skin, broad shoulders, and the defined, sharp chin of their father, though she took to more curves at womanhood, and he muscle. She never did forgive the laws of gender for that.
   "Hali." The boy shook his head and set a hand on the long knife at his waist. His thumb brushed over the two notches on the horn sheath; his kills. She grabbed her own and covered the bare case. "What are you doing out here? Father said to stay with us, he is furious with you." He spoke with the tone of a man. Low, condescending, she pursed her lips to the side and narrowed her brow,.
   "Sush, idiot!" She hissed. "Do you want the serpent to hear you?"
   "What?" The boy stepped around his sister and ducked down near the edge of the tree line. He peered over the bushes. "Hah! Serpent? We're not children anymore, Hali, it's just the Legion." He sighed and turned about. "Is that what you were doing? Trying to find the great Divine Beast? They're men, there's no dragon here."
   "I know!" She frowned and threw a fistful of snow at her brother's face. He ducked, lifted his torso then leapt forward, his arms curving outward. They collided in a heap. At impact, Suhali arched her back and fell with the force. When she hit the ground she grabbed a wayward elbow and posted a leg into the snow then shifted her hips, pushing off the ground and rolling over her assailant. The boy's eyes widened. Once he was steady, she straddled his stomach and dug in with her feet, twisted his arm at the joint then clasped her hand around the hilt of her knife. A metallic scrape accompanied the unsheathing of the blade. She poised it just below his neck and held it there, the edge digging into the worn, tough flesh. The two of them remained steady, both taking in deep, labored breaths. He struggled first. He bucked to no avail. She kept him pinned and held his arm back, resisting the pull of his muscles without much of a strain.
   "Yield." Suhali leaned in and grinned.
   "No way!" He bucked again to no result. "How are you doing that?"
   "What?"
   "How? What trick is this?!" He kicked out and freed his unbound arm. A fist took Suhali in the side. She shifted and took the strike in stride, shrugging off the blow. She withdrew her knife and sighed.
   "The cold makes you weak, brother." She smiled and kissed his forehead before she rolled off of him and stood. He followed suit, rubbing his neck and wiping the small bead of blood from his skin. His mouth contorted up and he raised a single brow. "You look like a dumb sled hound."
   "Enough. Come. Before father sends warriors for us."
   Suhali shook her head and sheathed her knife. Her brother turned and stalked back down the path of footprints he made in his approach and she started after him, her gloved hands wrapped around her chest despite the lack of chill. Low mutters left her mouth as small clouds. They clomped along, her footfalls heavy and dragged, with several lengths between the two of them that held their sibling aggression at bay. The paths were clear. Hidden markers lead them from the road deeper into the forest; a bent branch that pointed in the wrong direction, two flat stones from a far off lake, an abandoned bird's nest too low to the ground. She idly registered the signs as they passed, but her thoughts drifted to the serpent, the elder warrior, and that gem. Its memory stirred the warmth in her body. She closed her eyes and held onto the image, basked in it, fed off of its light and beauty.
   The absence of crunching snow forced her to open her eyes. Her brother stood with his hands balled into fists, both situated on his hips. Silhouetted in the darkness she almost mistook him for their father. If it was not for his still wanting height and the fact that his shoulders did not quite fit into his laden, black furs yet should may have bowed. Instead, she met his narrowed gaze and focused on the green of his eyes, one of the few features they did not share. The clan Shaman spoke of her brother's ever-green stare. A powerful omen, he called it, a sign of lasting health and will.
   "Keep your eyes open, Hali, we don't have time for your day dreams."
   "Oh shut up Vul."
   "Fah! Show respect! Tomorrow is the heir ceremony, our last Frostfall before we visit the tombs of Iskaer! How are you still so childish?"
   Suhali dropped her arms and curled her fingers, digging her nails into her palms through the leather gloves. She twisted a heel into the snow and scraped it along the ground, kicking a flurry up behind her.
   "We?! You will visit the tombs and take your pledge and you will become warrior-heir, while I bathe and dress in silly soft cloth and remove my braids. You get a sword! All I get to do is bleed." She spat venom. Her shoulders tensed as she leaned forward, her eyes flared with a heated conviction that eased Vul's poise. He frowned and his regal posture turned to the unsteady stance of a nervous boy. "It's not fair."
   "Hali, you..." he was interrupted as his sister started forward again. She marched past him and pushed his shoulder aside, taking the lead through the trails. Vul stood and watched her walk. Her coat was worn as a warrior's, the collar tight, the stray material pulled close and fastened down to not impede her range of movement. He saw the bulge in her left boot that indicated a spare dagger and her long, blond mop was sectioned off and braided as their father's. Fit for battle.
   "...should be the heir." He muttered beyond her hearing. The boy sighed and watched his breath roll up into the falling snow, closed his coat, and followed along. She knew the path better anyway.

Edited by Pandasaur, Jan 7 2014, 04:01 AM.
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Iskaer'dagir
 
   "Where have you been?" The low, cool tone of her father's voice forced her chin to lower. Vul stood aside with the other warriors, a mere shadow of the man that now faced her. An array of furs and leather bindings cloaked his form, woven in with chain and plate alike, trophies from lesser fighters. His arms sat wrapped beneath his chest, bare, calloused fingers tapping on powerful biceps. They were almost as thick as her body. Almost.
   Suhali did not respond. Instead, she busied herself by watching a Kwabble scout the outskirts of the clearing. The little creature blended well with the surroundings, its white fur camouflaging it from numerous predators. It stuck its little, stubby black nose into the air and sniffed, then brushed its face with a forward paw and took a single, hesitant step toward the camp. The puffy tail was what she held onto. It wagged to and fro and skirted loose snow about as it went, not caring for the mess; it's eyes were locked onto the spare kindling beside the cooking fire. She resisted the urge to toss it one.
   "Suhali. Answer me." Stern now. The voice lost its calm and adopted the authority of a father.
   "She was looking for the Divine Serpent." Vul quipped from the side.
   She glanced up at that. Few could see the signs of irritation in the Clan Leader's countenance. His brow twitched every so slightly and he ceased tapping his fingers, his sword arm would tense next, then he would lower those massive, broad shoulders, perhaps flip a course braid behind his back. A small, almost imperceptible tendril of vapor flew up from his lips. A hidden sigh.
   "The transgression is her own, Vulgaer. She must speak to it."
   Several of the warriors nodded. Some grunted. The fat one on the end bit into his jerky. Halgar. He winked at Suhali and lowered a hand below his belly, pointing at the Kwabble with a thick, sausage-like digit. He grinned and she smiled. Halgar dressed like the rest of the warriors, leathers and furs, arrayed with personal trophies; though he wore a set of pauldrons from a southern knight and carried an axe that dwarfed even his own considerable girth. Black hair and a single, green eye. The other was scar, one he did not bother to hide. The others were proud. They stood with their shoulders back, their weapons close, their chests lifted as conquering heroes. Not Halgar. He hunched and was quick with a joke. As her father turned, Halgar stuck his tongue out and hammered at the air with one hand. Suhali snorted, barely able to suppress a giggle.
   "Is this a joke to you?" Her father unfolded his arms and flipped a braid over his shoulder. There it was. "Your Hastening Ceremony is tomorrow, Suhali, the time for childish things is behind-"
   "I wanted to see the serpent." She blurted out. Her shrill, young tone somehow cut through the rumbling thunder that was her father's voice. "And I did. It walked with thunder, and lit the night with thousands of fires. I saw the mark, father, I had to see it."
   A stillness crept over the clearing. One warrior, a red haired blade bearer, leaned forward and spat. He lifted his scored leather boot and shoved the heel into the liquid and ground it into the snow.
   "The Legion?" Her father's voice was suddenly inquisitive. He shifted his weight and looked over her now, back beyond the trails from which they came. "Thousands? Are you sure? And they bore the war standard? You must be clear, did you see anything else?"
   Tense. The air became thick, laden with nervous energy. Suhali wrapped her arms around her torso and followed her father's gaze. The memory of the gem flashed in her mind. The warmth. The beauty. A face accompanied it, the old, grizzled man, his grey mane similar to the wild tigers of the north.
   "Ah. I saw a man. He was old though, and grey. He had, a, an amulet. It was starlight, father! Pure starlight."
   "Clear the site! Now! Halgar, go ahead, raise the Warparties, tell them the Legion moves."
   The fat warrior moved with an uncharacteristic speed. He passed by Suhali and mussed her hair with those giant hands then whistled a piercing, echoing tone. A white stallion clomped into the camp. A true Ice Breaker, he stood taller than any clansman. Halgar shoved a foot into a stirrup and mounted the beast without a fuss. He winked at Suhali then turned about and kicked that flanks, riding off toward their village. The rest of the warriors moved with the same purpose. The audience line was broken in moments. They scattered, doused the fire, and took down the tanning hides of the recent kills. Two bears, three deer, and a fox. No one spoke. No one sang any work songs. Two men withdrew and strung their bows. They scanned the horizon and nocked arrows with armor piercing tips.
   Suhali spun about with the rush of motion. She flicked her eyes from one man to the other. None spared her a glance. Her breath hastened. She could feel her heart beat in her throat, fast. The ice returned. It gripped her muscles, stopped her from moving, it held her still as her body shook of its own accord, but not from the cold. In the mess she caught an image of Vulgaer. He held his knife out, his eyes wide and alert. They shared the confusion.
   "Did they see you?" Suhali paused as she felt hands on her shoulders. They were gentle, warm somehow. She reached up and grabbed them, weaving her fingers toward the palms. Her body eased, the ice that gripped her veins melting and returning the color to her cheeks. Their eyes met. His were a deeper shade of blue than her own, they were dark in spirit, narrowed by age and the horrors of war. "Calm now, Su'ha. Did anyone see you?"
    Her lips parted, but only vapor trailed out. She closed her eyes and nodded rapidly.
   "Okar! Take Suhali and Vulgaer, now!" Her father stood and waved one of the warriors over. "Get them back to the village! We're going to have compa-"
   A flash of motion passed over Suhali's head. A splatter of red fell across her face. It was warm. She slowly lifted her gaze and stared upward. Her legs shook first, then arms, then her entire body fell into a heap. Still she looked. She traced the arrow's shaft in her mind, connected the path to arrow that now stuck out from the back of her father's neck. From behind her she heard a yell. A call. Some kind of command. The scraping of steel on leather filled the clearing and erupted in her skull. She could hear a faint, familiar voice call to her. Vulgaer. He shouted, but she remained on her knees, staring, watching. The towering, invincible man collapsed. He hit the ground with a thunderous roar and exhaled. What light there was faded from his eyes, replaced instead by a dull, grey sheen.
   Suhali leaned forward. She placed her hands on her father's shoulder and pushed. He did not budge. Again. Nothing. The shouts grew louder. Her name still among them, but she remained where she was. She pushed once more, harder now, she put all of her weight into it. No good. No matter her effort he lay there, silent.
   Powerful arms lifted the girl from the ground. She kicked and flailed but to no avail. A red braid bobbed in her vision, one of her father's warriors. The man put his own torso between her and the fighting. She hit his arms, kicked at this legs, she yelled out and blinked tears from her eyes, calling out for her father. Together they crossed the clearing into the brush. Her sobs were drowned out by screams. She squirmed up and watched over the warrior's shoulder as another blur of motion caught him in the back. He fell and she with him. They tumbled together and slammed into the snow. Suhali cried out then wrenched herself free from her would-be protector's death grasp. She crawled, unable to stand, pulling herself across the snow and into one of the ever-green bushes at the edge of the fight. She rolled in and peered out, watching the mess.
   Two men lay dead near the trails to the road. The bowmen. Each lay sprawled out at impossible angles. Suhali followed the path of death and spotted the source. A single man, clad in brown, leather Lorica and white furs, he blended into the setting and wielded a bow in one hand and a Legion shortblade in the other. His face was obscured by a fur hood; only shadows lay there. Three blade bearers stalked him like a pack of wolves. They circle him, their weapons held low out in front of them. The man stood with his shoulders back, his weapons down, the hood turning with the movements. A stiff, winter wind billowed the man's cloak out behind him, it howled through the trees, their branches shifted and a clutter of snow hit the ground.
   The warriors advanced. The one behind him darted forward and swung his blade while the others closed. The man ducked, spun, and rolled forward, his sword streaking through the air with the movement and searing through the armor that covered the warrior's stomach. He collapsed as the man took his place. He jumped and turned toward the other two then darted forward. Both defenders withdrew. One lashed out, violently, and watched his target side step the strike. Another wild slash, the warrior stepped toward the assailant and whipped his blade about, arcing it to remove the man's head. Another shift, the Legionnaire reared back, avoiding the tip of the sword by a mere inch. He leaned forward and thrust his own weapon upward, impaling the warrior up through the chin then released the hilt.
  The remaining blade bearer crept up behind the man and launched an assault with a brutal overhead strike. He spun, the Legionnaire, and flipped his bow about, catching the flat of the sword and twisting it aside and into the ground. He turned inward and placed a hand on the warrior's shoulder, pushed, then kicked at the back of the warrior's knee, taking him down like a child. A knee followed. It slammed into an armored chest as he pulled an arrow out from his quiver and shoved the edge into an exposed eye. Suhali closed her eyes. She thought of the gem, the starlight. Even now she could feel its warmth, the same warmth that emanated from her father's hands. The face was there. The tiger's mane, the wizened warrior that sent this man, she knew now. There was no ice in her veins. No fear. Only rage, only anger that crept up from her spine.
   She left the bush. The Legionnaire stood and removed his weapon from the blade bearer's head. He wiped the blood off on the leathers then sheathed the weapon at his hip. Suhali drew her long knife and started forward, her boots crushing the snow. It sloshed beneath her, melting away with her footfalls. The sound caught the Legionnaire's attention. He shift his gaze to the girl. Their eyes met. He chuckled then removed another arrow from his quiver. He knocked it and aimed his bow at Suhali.
   "Come, little Garoth, put knife away, I not slay child." He spoke her native tongue. She did not cease her advance. "Stop now. Girl obey or kill." Kill was right. Rage continued to drive her, to fuel her. The warmth became a white, hot energy. She felt it expand through her body, first in her chest then to her arms, her legs, her gaze. She saw under the hood. A man with a stubbled chin, a course, leathery face. His skin was brown, a southern warrior. She saw his eyes grow large as he watched her. Reflected in his irises she saw herself. Starlight leaked from her body. "How?!" He demanded. She continued forward. "How?!" No answer.
   He loosened the arrow.
   Her hand moved of its own accord. The long knife found its mark, the blade slicing into the head of the missile and casting it aside. She sprinted. One leap brought her half the distance, another to the man's feet. He flailed back and grabbed the hilt of his blade, but she was faster. A slash across his wrist issued a cry of pain, the impact severing the tendons of his hand. He darted forward, rolled, then spun about, sweeping his leg around to catch Suhali from behind. She turned and slammed her foot into his knee. A sickening, loud crack echoed across the clearing. Bone snapped and punctured his skin. Blood dripped from the wound and stained the white ground. The Legionnaire fell back and howled. Suhali stepped over him and lowered herself, brought her knife to his neck and set her gaze deep into the hood, deep into the darkness of that hood. She saw the fear, the realization of death.
   Neither spoke. She shoved the blade into his flesh. He struggled, his arms lifted, then he laid back, exhaled, and died. The rage cooled. Her body returned to normal, both the memory and heat fading to embers. Tears welled up and fell freely down her cheeks. There, upon the field of snow and death, Suhali earned her first notch. Sobbing, she lifted her head to the sky and searched. She watched the clouds part, the frostfall clearing for the first time in a week. Beyond her, the auroras wove their celestial pattern, they lit the night with oranges and blues and greens, and there, behind it all, the star of the north, the Unnamed Heroin.
   Sudden pressure arched her torso forward. She exhaled and the tears stopped. There was no pain, just a numb ache. Her arms did not respond, nor her legs. She seemed to float there, suspended in time, bereft now of all worries. She fell forward from the arrow in her back, and all faded to black.
Edited by Pandasaur, Jan 7 2014, 04:00 AM.
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Iskaer'dagir
 
   Her vision returned in a haze. Her head throbbed, but worse yet, her back ached worse than any pain she knew. Her arms and legs would not respond. A fire crackled nearby and she heard voices, muted, in a language she did not understand. She was prone, laying across a series of wooden planks. They were cold. The sensation was pleasant and lessened the dull throb in her mind. Blood and sweat mixed in a scent that made her want to vomit. Had she the ability to. She was confined to this position, only able to see what lay ahead. A desk sat within view. Shadows flickered in the corner, thick, armored forms.
   "I saw her slay Captain Tullius myself, general. I've never seen anyone draw that much power before. I didn't even know the Garoth had Divinity artifacts."
   "They don't." The second voice was a rasp, a low rumble that filled the enclosure with a sense of regal posture. In two words Suhali felt the power of the speaker, honed, strong, and laden with wisdom unknown to her, despite the language gap.
   "Sir? Then how?"
   "She drew it from me."
   "I. I don't understand s-"
   "Enough. Fetch my surgeon, tell him to bring his tools."
   "Sir, she killed the Captain!"
   "Orders are not suggestions, Centurion."
   "I. Sir, yes sir!"
   Thick, heavy footfalls stomped across the floor. The boots crossed her vision. Moments later she heard a tent flap flutter open then flap idly in the wind. The breeze came into the tent and jostled the fire. She took in a deep breath, inhaled the cool chill of the night, and sighed into a groan. The pain was too great for her to care where she was. A blackness took her thoughts, a lapse that prevented her from recalling the events of the night.
   "Ah. You're awake." The voice was directed to her now, she knew, as it was spoken in her tongue. She tried to roll over, but to no avail. A chuckle followed. Another set of footfalls - these were lighter, measured, approach her. A knee appeared first, then a deep, red cloak lined with gold fell over it. A face next. An older, weather countenance, sunken gaze, and a beard that run itself into sideburns and cropped, grey hair. He held the appearance of a tiger. The great cats of the far north. His eyes were ice. Blue beyond blue, light, they shimmered with the light of the stars. "It is you, then." He lowered his head to hers. His lips tightened. "What is your name, young one?"
   Suhali coughed. She opened her mouth and exhaled. A sharp pain seared through her lungs, though she was too weak to recoil. Instead she grunted and hacked up bile.
   "Take your time. Here." The old man gently laid a sharp, wrinkled hand on her shoulder. His fingers were warm, calloused, if jagged. Something tucked beneath his cloak flashed. Strength returned to her limbs, a burst of vigor that allowed her to crane her head back and roll onto her side and curl herself into a ball. She focused on breath, exhaling in slow, measured rasps.
   "Su. Suhali." Her voice was small, weak. "Isk. Iskear'd-dagir."
   "Mmm." The man leaned back and withdrew his hand. A slow, laden motion brought him back to his feet. She watched him, now, and looked up at the noble form that assailed her from some distant memory. "Suhali then." He was tall, much more than herself, standing heads beyond what she would ever be. Like her father, he was broad, proud, warm.
   "Where. F-father?"
   "Your father? He was there, wasn't he?" The general paused. He rocked back on his heels and sighed. "I am truly sorry, daughter of Iskaer."
   Before she could speak again the flap folded back and another set of footfalls paused just inside the tent.
   "Good. Bind her wounds, then prepare her for the recruitment ceremony." The general turned back toward Suhali and frowned. He matched her gaze, that similar stare of ice. There was no arrogance there, no darkness. Only pity, and sorrow. "Should one day you deem my life worthy of your blade, I will give it gladly, for what I do to you now is a thing of evil."
   His words rang in her mind as she felt her eyes grow heavy, laden with exhaustion and stress. She could only muse on his meaning before she drifted off into the unconscious realm of dreams.
Edited by Pandasaur, Jan 10 2014, 12:52 AM.
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Remnants of the Empire
Spring 96 A.A.
To Anaraxis I give my soul, to the Empire I give my honor, and to the Legion I give my life. I vow this day that I will face oblivion before I lay down my arms.
- Oath of Loyalty from the Legion Recruitment Ceremony
Loyalty
 
   One steady, deep breath. Pull the string, balance the shaft. The feathered tail brushed by her cheek. Exhale. Release.
   A quiet twang echoed across the clear canopy, drawing the attention of the doe. She lifted her head in alarm as the missile embedded itself into the base of her neck. She fell. A soft cloud of


Edited by Pandasaur, Jan 10 2014, 01:33 AM.
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