Fiorn stumbled on a half-buried paving stone, and fell forward in the dust. For a brief moment, he considered simply laying there in the middle of the broken road, waiting to die. Eventually, the end would come, and he would service any crows, mongbats, or other scavengers in the area. It would be a fitting end for him, if ever there was one. Eventually, though, he climbed wearily to his feet, and trudged on. He didn't bother dusting off his tattered robe or his filthy hands. Nothing about him was clean any longer, so what was the point? Instead, he simply pushed himself forward, stumbling through the head-high grasses and the tangled vines and trees. This forest wasn't quite a jungle, but it wasn't far from it. The air was hot and thick with heavy humidity. Insects were a constant bother, biting, stinging, and flying up his nose and into his mouth whenever he tried to breath. The road, clear and passable in the North nearer to Britain, had slowly devolved until it was now barely a path through the wilderness. Broken, weathered paving stones jutted up through the undergrowth in places, but the served more as a hazad than a protection for the feet. Fiorn's throat was caked with dry dust, and his tongue was stuck hard to the roof of his mouth. It had been days since his last drink of water, and he was beginning to wonder if he might die of thirst. There wasn't so much a fear of impending death...or even a concern about it. Rather, it was more like a passing curiosity. The Blood Summoning that Zeddar had placed on him was gone, his quest having been completed. Now, he was once again tormented by the effects of the Dark Lord's touch on his mind and heart. He had found himself in the mountains north of Yew when he'd woken. The old compulsion strong on his mind again. He found he could not think long an anything but his quarry; hunger, thirst, exhaustion, desire...all of these things faded in the face of his insatiable need to track down his prey. And so, Fiorn had begun walking, and hunting. He had listend to rumors, and stories. Whispers about a village far to the south... a small town near a shrine. He had heard names as well....Zeddar.... Catalin... Kiln.... Mobolin.... names that had come back time and again. And with them, there was always almost a scent. Whenever a mug of ale was drained and a man spoke of that village....or those people... Fiorn's mind would instantly sharpen. It was nothing conscious, but something deep within him...something left there by the darkness that had taken him so many ages ago.... something was nudging him towards this place. With each step he took, the compulsion became stronger and stronger. He was the hound, and he'd found the scent of his quarry. He would allow nothing to get in his way. He walked, sometimes for days at the time, with little rest. When he would pass a tavern or an inn, the urge in him to walk would sometimes dim, and he would go in for a bite of food and a drink. It was then that he would hear his next clue, his next rumor. Somehow, that drive within him knew when it was time to go and listen. And so, Fiorn had stumbled for days now, lost in the southern wilds between Britain and Trinsic. The drive, the compulsion was so strong that he couldn't sleep any longer. He only rested when his muscles became too weak to carry him another step. He was close... his prey was near at hand...and he could almost feet in his teeth. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ascher moved from tree to tree, ghosting through the tall grasses. He was as silent as a snow leopard stalking through the mountain passes on Dagger Isle. The moon was high tonight, and just past full. A stiff breeze caused the grasses between tree trunks to undulate in waves like a sea. The road was almost gone here, and travel was difficult for most. Ascher never slowed his stride. He had been tracking the Ettins for more than a week. It was rare to see more than two in an area this far south, and to find the track of a full raiding party had been a shock. Not since the Orcs had invaded Trinsic had eight ettins gathered together in one place in these southern wilds. If the ettins and orcs were organizing themselves into groups again, then it could mean only one thing.... there was a powerful general somewhere, directing it all. The best way for Ascher to figure out the location of the evil commander would be to track down these ettins and ask them. Of course, they might not want to talk, at which point it would likely get very interesting. But, as long as there weren't any gargoyles or trolls around, it shouldn't be more than he could handle. He hoped. Zeddar passed over a broken paving stone, and froze. There was a spot of blood on it, but not the deep black blood of the Orcs, or even the rancid brown blood of the Ettins. This was the color of deep rust. Ascher scraped a bit off between his fingers and rubbed them together, sniffing them and smelling the strong odor of copper. This was human blood, and not very old. Ascher looked around, but saw no signs of a struggle. So whoever had been bleeding, they hadn't been found by the ettins. There was a faint trail leading to and away from the paving stone, and it looked like whoever had made the trail had been stumbling pretty badly. They'd probably fallen and hitten a knee or a shin on the paving stone, leaving the spot of blood. Ascher followed the path for a few steps, finding more blood on the ground and on the grass, as if a cut had been left unbandaged to bleed. Ascher stood, and frowned, looking down the path of the old abandoned road bed. Whoever it was, they probably didn't have water with them, or food, which was why they were stumbling bad enough to start bleeding and not address it. It was many leagues yet to Trinsic, and even the outskirts of Paws was a long way off for an ill-prepared traveler. Ascher sighed. He would have to pick up the trail of the Ettins later, and hope it hadn't gone cold by then. Right now, he had to go make sure some fool wanderer didn't get themselves killed out here. ========================================================================================== Fiorn had lost count of the days he'd been walking. Time had ceased to matter to him long ago...right around the moment the last of his water ran out and he'd left his stolen waterskin behind in the dust of the road. He wasn't sure, but it felt like at least a week since that had happened. All he cared about now was his prey. He could feel it somewhere in the woods around him. He was being pulled in every direction, and he couldn't stop even long enough to rest. The grasses had finally given way to tightly spaced tree trunks of a fully grown forest. The woods were easier to move through, but they held more dangers. The shadows here were deeper, and darker, and Fiorn thought he felt eyes in all of them. On the horizon he could see the familiar glow of a shrine, but he shied away from it whenever his eyes fell there. He had tried many times to kneel and pray at a shrine, but the taint in his heart wouldn't let him. He was forsaken...abandoned by the light...and he knew it. Fiorn's feet failed him again, and he fell...hard. He heard and felt a rib crack under his weight as he came down sideways on a gnarled oak root. A sharp cry shot from his mouth and he doubled over in the dust and leaf litter. He coughed hard as he tried to breathe, sending white hot shards of pain deep into his side. Suddenly, there were hands gripping his shoulders firmly. He was turned over on his back, and a bandage was hastily tied around his chest. The pressure was painful at first, but it quickly relaxed, and the support allowed him to breathe a bit easier. A leather bottle was pressed to his lips, and Fiorn drank greedily, savoring the thick, musty taste of the goatskin. It was the sweetest water he'd ever known. After a few sips, the bottle was pulled away, and Fiorn almost cried out again. "Easy," A calm, strong voice said from above him, "You're almost dead from thirst. Drink too much too quickly, and it will shock you system. Nothing I can do will matter at that point. Take it easy. I won't harm you." Fiorn's eyes flutttered open, and he found himself looking up into a deeply tanned and deeply lined face. The man had dark brown hair pulled back and tied at his shoulders with a leather cord. His dark brown beard had shots of gray just beginning at the corners of his mouth. As soon saw him, the compulsion he had felt gnawing away at his mind and his very soul disappeared. In that instant he knew... he had found his quarry... he had found Ascher Kraw.
What spies to tell ~~The Summoning~~ A massive, grizzled bear stepped slowly out of the woods. It lowered its gnarled snout and sniffed at the empty jug of cider. It continued through the camp and then lifted its head up in the air to sniff, as if it could recreate with perfect clarity the events that transpired around this area… The gruesome bear slowly turned towards an unseen master; blinking two discolored eyes – the left was an ominous green that slightly glowed in the darkness, the other blood red. It seemed as if blood oozed perpetually from the latter. A shadowy figure stepped slyly over the abandoned perimeter alarm. As if in protest the jars no longer sang their tranquil tune from the dawn before; instead they clanked along their line as the wind blew a hollow tone passing over their open tops. “Show me,†the ghastly figure spoke and in an unnatural synchronization they both closed their eyes and reopened them – revealing four green, glowing retinas. The two creatures stared into the distance at an invisible mental projection. To the only two beings that could see this vision, the surrounding area swirled and as if looking through unhallowed lenses, they could see the figures of everything that had passed through this clearing; at least everything that had left a scent. The figure of a ragged man, stumbled as he pushed his broken body through the clearing. He looked off to the east and then changed course to give wider birth to something in the distance. He continued to stagger towards the two observers and then disappeared in a puff as he walked through them. They did not bother to turn to see which direction the apparition headed; it seemed they were more concerned with something else. The dark figure rested his hand on the bear’s scruff and the beast curled and snarled his lips then quickly inhaled; his massive nostrils flared. As he did, the clearing flashed with accelerated movements then suddenly slowed again as the bear exhaled. Now there was a man in a worn camping bag, he sprang up and aimed his bow straight at them. This time they did turn to see the man’s target, but all they saw was an old tree with empty jars tied to it. Suddenly a small metal man leapt from the trees, but no arrows were fired at him. When they returned their gaze back to the camper, the bear let out a roar in riposte to the vision of a woman who now stood betwixt the camper and themselves. The man blinked his eyes, and the bear’s dichotomous eyes returned to their conflicting colors. “This is very good news for us Mishka,†the man mused, “not so good for the Oath Breaker. He should know better than to try and deceive his master.†The bear bellowed in response to which the man retorted “Well yes, but the advantage of a spy is that he chooses how to present his intel. What I see here is a defeated man who did not fulfill his master’s order.†With deliberate steps the man returned to where the jars still clanked together, he pulled the line from branches. “The Kraw was within Fiorne’s grasp, but yet he lives; and we have the evidence to prove it.†“Now, you go, follow the two strangers. The master will undoubtedly want to see any who have encountered this man. They may prove to be useful bargaining chips to make a man of oaths give up his cherished secrets,†the man tossed the bear a large, bloodied limb; it had clearly been torn from the creature as it lived, for the orc’s hand still clutched the club that failed to defend it. The man departed in the direction that the ragged man had wandered, “I shall tend to the Oath Breaker to ensure no one can refute our intel.â€
