The Fall of Marigill (closed for Poprockz)

[Poprockz]

Nettie and Dremara traded wide-eyed looks as the men went through the list of things that might be waiting out there for them. The Whispers sounded insidious, and it sent a shiver down Dremara's spine. That reminded her though- she would have thought that the Enchantress would feel cold and lifeless at her back, but the woman was surprisingly warm. It felt like there was still life in her body, a beating heart that pumped and heated her. It made her question whether the woman was truly a vampire and not simply a sorceress.

The image of Cillian jumping off a cliff, twisting mid-air and firing his bow at a creature inspired awe within Nettie. How awesome must he have looked, his raven cloak fluttering like the wings of a bird as he let the wind carry him down? He was truly remarkable to have only walked away with a stiff leg.

The Lady of the White Peaks smiled to herself when Roric mentioned the Glacivyr, but she didn't validate Roric's claim. She didn't invalidate it either. Though the men might be skeptical of such a tall tail, she herself had seen such beings with her own two eyes so she knew his words to be true. The bit about them throwing rocks over the mountains though... that was an exaggeration. They were certainly very strong, but that sort of feat was not within their purview.

Princess Dremara noticed the lady behind her squeezing her slightly as Fionn became distracted, and she wondered whether she had been afraid of the sled tipping.

In actuality, the vampress was preparing to shield them if necessary. While she herself could simply slip into a shadow to avoid the impact, the Princess could not, and she doubted Orson would appreciate if she abandoned the girl to knock her head against a boulder if it could be prevented. Her grip loosened on Dremara once their course was righted, relaxing back into the sled.

“Dagris; please don’t bore poor Nettie to sleep. She hasn’t gotten in a word to her raven yet!”

Thank goodness her face was mostly covered or they might have seen evidence of her embarrassment. A muffled snort came from where her mouth was under the furs though at his retort.

"It may be uncomfortable for you to camp on the way to the castle, but rest assured when we arrive, I will have a room prepared that will befit your status. Best of all, there will be warm food and strong liquor," Y'Sennia said conversationally.

"But... Don't vampires drink blood?" Nettie asked hesitantly.

This got a good-natured chuckle from the vampress, "we do. but those we get it from have to eat too or there would be no blood to drink. On occasion I enjoy blood that has alcohol in it as well- it gives it a nice flavor."

 

[draco519]

Cillian looked up as Brannock helped out with pointing out Nettie hadn’t gotten a word in. He said nothing; also, ironically, glad that his face was mostly covered. Unaware, entirely, of Nettie’s reaction. They shared a couple of dances, they weren’t… were they?

Dagris still was conflicted about Lady Y’Sennia. The teachings of Ursui were clear about those who walked after death; and to desecrate the bones of the fallen was an anathema to his very face. However, the Chieftain had taken her to his bed. And she’d shown them about growing better crops. Rotating fields to keep their people fed, medicine they wouldn’t have access to otherwise.

Though her remedies… weren’t always perfect.

At any rate, she’d been an ally when the Kota had no others. So Dagris, as best he could figure, would only take issue with one who drinks Kota blood when his Chieftain did; for he was the favored son of Ursui. He was certain of it; he’d seen it in the eyes of his ancestors. Even if Orson himself didn’t yet believe it.

Brannock crested a hill that overlooked the Evergrow Valley; a layer of snow on the ground, yet crops in this region of the Iron Vale continued to grow. Against all they knew. Clicking his tongue, he bid thunder continue down the path. The Auroch had stopped to drink from the river.

Brannock wasn’t nearly as torn about it as Dagris; as long as the night enchantress kept her fangs to herself? He’d keep his axe to himself. And there’d be no issues. The minute Orson said take her head? He wanted to do it.

Fionn, in his naivete, trusted Orson’s judgment. Blindly. It was only the consideration of a conscientious Chieftain that prevented him from being led down darker paths.

Cillian felt a chill run down his spine at the thought of it. A woman biting his neck and drinking his blood? He shook his head out.

Roric was of one mind about Lady Y’Sennia. She helped the Kota survive when many more wouldn’t. He didn’t know what he didn’t know.

Orson did know. And he worried about his fallen ancestors. He further worried about anyone finding out what Y’Sennia had done. He worried more of anyone finding out he knew about it and hadn’t killed her. In both of their defense? She admitted to it when she hadn’t had to. Though he doubted that would matter if a moot were called.


The Evergrow Valley was home to several villages one would see over the hill. Lumber and grain mills powered by the Thine river that ran southeast from the Baleful Lake, down the White Falls, and all the way to sea. Through RimeHaven.

The villages weren’t large or even particularly remarkable; simply homes near one another with families growing crops. Content enough to live a simple life; protected by the Kota patrols that kept these lands safe. Many villages were only burgeoning enough that only a few had names.

“Tell me more of what crawls from the lake.” Orson finally broke the silence. “And this blight.”

 

[Poprockz]

Y'Sennia's smile flickered and faded, her eyes looking somewhat distant as she replied. "I daresay the sight of it disturbs even myself."

There was a pause before she continued. "Years ago, many, many years ago... I found myself looking into the mouth of a volcano. None of you have ever seen such a thing in your lifetime, and I hope you never live to witness the fury of a mountain that spills its insides onto the land. It brings ash, heat, and death in the wake of the molten waves of stone. Think of when your blacksmith melts your weapons into liquid metal and then imagine that as the waves of the ocean, rolling over the land and burning anything in its path."

"This lake bubbled with heat, its noxious fumes wafting into the air like a poisonous mist. The way that it bubbles and steams... it reminds me of a volcano. The trees and plants around the lake have all withered and died. The water itself is... black and thick, no longer bringing life to the forest around it."

"That in of itself would be cause enough for alarm, but the things that crawl out of it..." Y'Sennia only looked more troubled, her normally bemused features giving way to furrowed brows of concern. "They crawl from the lake like something from one's nightmares. The screams of agony... it is as though the souls of the beasts remain within, tormented by the decay that besets them. And their eyes." Her own eyes lifted to Orson's. "Their eyes glow with balefire."

 

[draco519]

Orson listened as Y’Sennia spoke, Ironroar chuffing in his effort to keep his canter steady as they passed another village. Creatures crawling from the Baleful Lake? That wasn’t good for a number of reasons; the primary one being.. It was the main water source for the White Peaks; and all those who lived there under Y’Sennia’s rule that needed it.

“Skulls to crush.” Brannock cockily smirked. “Sounds like fun.”

“A-aye!” Fionn did his level best not to sound terrified. Determined to fulfill the oath he’d sworn only the night previous.

“Careful, boot-smoocher.” Roric grumbled as he did when he was worried. “We’ve no idea what we’re up against.”

“There are stories that tell of an ancient evil in the caves near that lake.” Dagris had always figured it was Lady Y’Sennia. It seemed, though, that might not be the case; if she was being completely honest with them, that is.

“Let’s hear the story, then.” Orson asked of the weathered runecaster of Ursui.

“It is said that our ancestors defeated one of the strongest Glacivyr in that cavern.” Dagris tried to recall the details. He’d heard it so long ago. “For many days and nights. The death of that Glacivyr Myrmidon..” Dagris tried to remember.. “His name eludes me; but… it’s said that he was terribly strong. And that his loss was pivotal in driving back the invasion of the age of Dagenhart.”

The age of Dagenhart; the Kota Chieftain at the time. The Kota men were silent in customary reverence at the mention of the name.

 

[Poprockz]

"Kaurvic," Y'Sennia spoke up, breaking the silence after an appropriate moment had passed. The word held power, and the very air seemed to carry an especially cold chill. "That is his name."

Her eyes went to Brannock and she gave him a hard stare. "Try to smash those beasts' skulls, and while you may find yourself victorious, your triumph will be short-lived. Anyone who touches them dies. The sludge that sloughs off their fur from the lake is cursed, and it will consume you and any who touch you. It is not a fate I would wish on any of you." For a moment her eyes flicked to Orson.

That was why she had resorted to robbing graves. She would not send her own servants and knights to suicide and a gruesome death. That combined with the fact that the cursed rot was highly infectious. Any who touched the afflicted were also beset upon by the darkness. Shadow nights were effective to a point, but she needed them at her castle for when - not if - a full-scale attack happened. It was only a matter of time that the creatures from the lake tried to overtake the castle in order to start their journey to RimeHaven itself.

 

[draco519]

Brannock was on point; he could only hear Y’Sennia behind him, but.. It didn’t sound pleasant. Cursed?! What sort of..

“There are runes to protect against curses.” Dagris said, giving it thought. “But I doubt the good the Lady Y’Sennia would be worried if any of Ursui’s blessings warded against what ails the lake.”

Cillian rolled his tongue in his cheek. Maybe a well placed arrow…?

Orson chewed on his cheek, not catching Y’Sennia’s glance at him, either. He couldn’t ask his brothers to die; nor could he leave his ancestors locked in an eternal, ultimately losing war with whatever came from the lake. It was safe to assume it would only get stronger as Naymeera’s power continued to grow.

“First we make it to the white peaks.” Orson said, the last of the farming villages behind them; the grasslands giving way to the rocky moors. The sun waning on the far horizon. “We make camp before nightfall.”

Pulling off of the road, the men were fast to set up sturdy, thick tents, lining the outside with furs from saddlebags. The beasts of burden fed oats, the dogs had meat.

Cillian, once he’d let Nettie up, offered her his hand to help her out of the sled. Snagging his bow, he was fast to disappear into the woods.

Brannock finished fixing the last few furs to the tent Dremara and Y’Sennia and Nettie would have, while Roric looked to the one for himself and Cillian.

Dagris was getting a fire going, large enough to cook whatever Cillian brought back. He always brought something back. A pot of water set to boil on the spit he’d set up.

Fionn was assigned the animals. Giving them rubdowns and making sure they had access to the river. Oats for the Auroch and the Rimehoof, meat for the Stoneclaw and the sled dogs. He smiled, petting one of the huskies mixed with a wolf.

Orson ran his hands through Ironroar’s mane, the bear nudging his shoulder and he pushed back against the bear in kind. Playful beast, he was. Giving the bear a smirk, he stepped back towards the fire and looked out over the Evergrow valley.. Then ahead, to the borealis peeking over the Whitecaps. Silvers and greens and blues and violets dancing over.

Tea brewed, Dagris handed cups to Nettie, Dremara, and Y’Sennia, and carried the steaming pot to pour for each of them. “It takes the worst of the cold out, my ladies.”

“Ale does better.” Brannock complained, but got his cup all the same.

“Tea will suffice.” Orson took a cup as he rejoined the group.

“How about rabbit?” Cillian said, emerging from the shadows, raven feather cloak dancing firelight off as he reached down to his belt and pulled his kills from it. He’d skinned them and bled them elsewhere. “Seems to do good enough for Roric.”

Roric had been coming back with another load of firewood, and leaned down to stoke the flames before loading it up to get it good and hot. “Aye. Good rabbit is
hard to beat.”

The group sat around the campfire, and Cillian stood, leaning against a tree. His eyes, unbeknownst to him, shimmering faintly with a pale blue light that matched the faint glow of the stormfeather talisman beneath his furs. He was ever watchful and vigilant; his normal role as one of Ursui’s ravens when the group camped. Find the food, stand watch.

Orson approached Dremara and Nettie and Y’Sennia on their log, offering up an extra fur from his saddlebag. “It’s big enough if you ladies need extra and don’t mind sharing.”

Brannock nearly spat out his tea, choking as some came through his nose. Head turned as he wiped his mouth.

Roric bit his tongue.

Fionn clearly didn’t get it.

Cillian smirked.

Dagris reached over, patting the choking Brannock on the back.

 

[Poprockz]

The ladies thanked Dagris for the tea, finding it quite warm and comforting. While one of the unfortunate things about being a vampire was that human food tasted like nothing, she could still enjoy the warmth that tea brought to her.

Y'Sennia also smirked, though she hid it with a well-timed sip of tea. Oh, he was big enough for both of them, indeed.

"Thank you," Princess Dremara smiled at him, none the wiser. All she could tell was that Brannock had unfortunately swallowed his tea down the wrong pipe, and the rest of them found that amusing. She reached out and took the fur, surprised at its weight. Her hand ran over the dense fur appreciatively "Wow, it's quite thick. Surely it will be very effective in satisfying our need for heat." The fur was then wrapped around Nettie and her own shoulders.

Nettie, for her part, didn't quite register the implications of what had been said, but she was picking up that there was more going on than one might assume. "Yes..." she said, looking around suspiciously. "I imagine such a hefty thing will chase away the cold, indeed."

The corners of the vampress's lips twitched, though she was able to restrain herself from making any audible noises. It was... difficult.

 

[draco519]

Orson heard Brannock choke, and bit his tongue not to laugh as he realized what he’d said; glancing over to Y’Sennia, he saw the twitch of her lip and the cock of her eyebrow; causing his own eyebrows to raise in return. Clearing his throat to hide the chuckle, he looked back to the skewered meat as Dagris went about adding the potatoes and garlic and thyme and rosemary and paprika, salt, and other various ingredients into what would ultimately be a stew.

Eventually, Dagris lifted the ladle out of the steaming cast iron pot, examined the rabbit meat and tasted the broth. Satisfied with what he’d put together, he began giving bowls out.

“Fionn, go check on the animals.” Roric patted the boy on his shoulder. “Make sure they’ve access to the river. And are fed. What have you.”

Fionn blinked, “I.. did.”

“Can never be too careful.” Cillian added, “Don’t want wolves getting after the sled dogs.” He said, taking his bowl before moving to sit down nearer the fire to get warm.

Fionn eyed the stew, hungrily, before going to do as he was told.

Dagris passed the stew out to the ladies, Orson, Roric, and one for himself. He was scraping the very last of the pot to do so when Fionn returned.

“I-”

“Nothing like a day in the cold to make a man hungry!” Brannock guffawed, chewing happily.

“I-” Fionn tried to inquire again.

“Mhm!” Roric agreed, moaning his pleasure with his mouth so full he looked like a chipmunk.

“But-”

“Dagris has outdone himself.” Orson took a bite, looking over to the log containing the ladies. “The man has a talent.”

“I didn’t-”

“Fionn; you’re on dishes tonight.” Orson spoke as though he just remembered.

Fionn had been looking down into the empty cauldron, exasperated. So, not only had these pricks eaten it all; he had to wash the dishes!? But he’d not question Orson. He’d sworn the oath! He was so torn; dejection showing on his face.

“Fionn.”

Brannock looked over to Orson, holding a second bowl he’d been hiding.

The men laughed as Fionn sighed in relief.

 

[Poprockz]

They sure liked to tease the poor man, Dremara thought to herself. It was unclear whether it was simply because he was the youngest or whether it was some sort of rite of passage, but she found herself feeling a bit sympathetic for him.

Nettie however, thought it was quite funny. Had they actually withheld the stew from him, she would have disapproved, but there was no harm in a bit of fun as long as it had a good ending. The staff at the castle liked to play pranks on each other here and there, and it reminded her of such times.

The stew was hearty, and after a long day of traveling through cold weather, the flavor and warmth was comforting in a way that neither women could put into words. Rabbits weren't eaten in the Golden City, the people there eating more livestock than hunted animals. Dremara found that she very much enjoyed the taste of the meat.

The Vampress did not partake in the stew- it would be wasted on her, after all. Instead, she took out her flask and took a few drinks. One might assume she spent her nights stalking the countryside in search of blood, but that was simply a waste of time. Instead, one might hear tales of "the blood price" to stay at her castle and be provided her tutelage. Those that sought to gain something from her had to pay in blood, while others simply offered theirs for coin. It was always a mutual exchange with both parties benefiting. Y'Sennia had no shortage of coin, so it wasn't infrequently that she would find people coming to her castle for a time, earning their money, and leaving. If she didn't like their blood, then she would simply put them to work doing something they were capable of until they became tired of it or accrued enough funds for their own pursuits.

In her flask, she had the blood of a young man who had lost both of his legs in an accident. While he politely declined a darker solution to this malady (perhaps the addition of goat legs), he was a willing supply for her while she provided him with a place to stay and food to fill his belly.

Though... it didn't mean she didn't miss the excitement of hunting or trying new blood.

"That was delicious!" Princess Dremara commented with a contented sigh, "I could hardly give a complement while I was eating because I couldn't bear to stop until my bowl was empty!"

Nettie nodded enthusiastically. "Truly!"

 

[draco519]

Dagris bowed his head to the compliments of Princess Dremara and Lady Nettie, still chewing his stew thoughtfully.

Fionn got sat down to eat, finally, and looked up to the whitecaps in the distance, and the borealis above. He’d never been to the White Peaks. Anywhere beyond the mountain.

The Iron Vale’s night was a relentless frost, its winds snaking through the forest along the Thine River, where maple, sugar maple, evergreen, black pine, and ashwood trees stood sentinel, their snow-dusted branches creaking under a slow, silent snowfall.

The Thine’s half-frozen waters gurgled nearby, glinting under the crescent moon, its banks crusted with ice. The campfire’s flames devoured oak logs, casting flickering light on packed snow and the brothers’ weathered faces, pine smoke curling into the chill, mingling with the scent of damp bark, ice, and the lingering savor of hearty rabbit stew, its warmth grounding their resolve.

Orson sat on a snow-dusted log, bear-fur cloak loose, blue eyes reflecting the fire’s glow, the Stormweave Band glinting on his wrist, its thunderbolt sigil humming faintly. His eyes were lost after the dinner, watching the coils and spits of the campfire. The rustle of wind through the ochre furs of a man with more on his mind than the simple pleasure of stew; and teasing young Fionn.


Brannock, hulking and broad, sprawled nearby, two-handed axe propped against a maple, rune-carved gauntlet humming, his burned arm and cracked ribs bandaged, snow flecking his braided beard. “Fire’s our shield tonight,” he rumbled, heart defiant, brushing snow from his furs.

Cillian, perched on a frost-crusted stone, was affixing feathers to an arrow, gray eyes scanning the black pines, kept his ears sharp. Listening for currents on the wind.

Dagris sat cross-legged, his crystal orb cradled, stag-carved staff beside him, runes flickering along it. His thoughts heavy with the Glacivyr’s runic taint.Snow dusting his cloak as he considered the possibilities of what they face on the morrow.

Roric, grizzled and silver-streaked, leaned against an ashwood, wolf-pommel longsword sheathed, kite shield propped in the snow.

Fionn knelt by the Thine’s icy bank, washing the tin bowls clean of the stew, his spear propped nearby. His torc gleamed as he scrubbed. And scrubbed and scrubbed.. Then he looked up to Orson. He opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t… Then he kicked himself for hesitating.

Then he tried again, he-

“We should get some rest.” Orson hadn’t seen young Fionn’s intentions, he looked over to Cillian, a silent question in his eyes.

Cillian nodded. The understanding among the men was clear; he’d be on first watch.

“Brannock will spell you, brother.” Orson said, approaching Killian and putting a hand on his shoulder. In the darkness of night? No one’s eyes he’d trust to better watch over the camp.

“Why me?” Brannock didn’t understand.

“Because last time you were on watch? You fell asleep!” Fionn reminded Brannock with a grin, packing away the plates.

“Which means I'm not fit for the job!”

“I trust practice will train you to be better at it.” Orson’s tone left Brannock no room to complain or argue. “And if I wake with the dawn and find you asleep; it might be time for a new Swine Lord.”

Fionn’s eyes lit up with hope. He almost wished Dagris would have drugged them all.

 

[Poprockz]

Princess Dremara finally noticed the swirling colors of the sky, having been fully focused on her food and the cold before then. Her eyes widened. It was so beautiful... breathtakingly so. "Nettie look..." she whispered, pointing up at it.

The other woman swallowed her last mouthful of stew before going to see what was being pointed at. "Gods..." she breathed. What a sight! After a few quiet moments she realized that her cheeks were wet. With surprise, Nettie reached up to wipe away a few tears, shaking her head in response to a concerned look Dremara had given her.

"I'm alright. I don't even know why I'm crying," the handmaiden chuckled with a sniff.

Dremara scooted closer and leaned her head sideways against Nettie's, the two of them continuing to gaze at the colors slowly dancing across the sky. "It's okay," she replied quietly. "Such beauty can make one feel many things."

 

[draco519]

“It’s the dance of our ancestors.” Orson explained as Dremara and Nettie took in the borealis for the first time. “They, under Ursui’s protection, live on in constant celebration and vigil.”

“To watch over one’s descendants is a great honor.” Roric said, the words of the ladies having brought his attention to the sky.. And he gave a grim frown, his stance shifting under a secret weight. But rather than burden anyone with it? He simply crawled into the tent he and Cillian would be sharing.

Brannock was still grumbling, complaining about the fact that he had to spell Cillian in a matter of hours. He sat on his bedroll in the tent he and Fionn would share, and reached for his boots.

“No!” Fionn kicked Brannock’s boot to get his attention. “Bad enough I have to bunk with you; keep them on!”

“They need to dry!” Brannock protested.

“I’ve no intention” Fionn pulled the tent closed, but his words were audible. “Of catching my death from -ow!”

“Quiet, boot-smoocher!” Shuffling sounds, the tent’s ceiling pulsing here and there as they wrestled, and finally?

“Bear’s balls! That’s rank!” Fionn coughed, the tent shaking and struggling against the stakes driven through snow, ice, and stone. “Do you wear dead otters for socks?!”

“It’s not that bad! Just go to sleep!”

Orson, again, was trying not to laugh at the antics of his men. But he looked to Nettie and Dremara and Y’Sennia all the same. Bowing his head. “Good night, ladies.”

 

[Poprockz]

"Goodnight," Dremara replied, still wistfully looking up at the stars.

The next day, she and Nettie emerged groggily from their own tent. It was a good thing Orson had given them that extra fur- otherwise, things would have been a lot more uncomfortable. As it was, the two women slept soundly, huddled together for warmth and comfort. Nettie had no doubt that Cillian would protect them while they slept, and that even if Brannock were to fall asleep on his watch, as long as he took his boots off... nothing would dare to approach.

Breakfast was a savory porridge of oats and broth, made from the rabbit bones that had been bubbling in the pot all night. It too was delicious, even if it was a very simple dish. When the fire had waned and there was little firewood left, Y'Sennia had sauntered off to the forest, returning with enough firewood to get last them til morning. The fire wouldn't have gone out, but she figured it was better to have it strong when everyone woke up.

Once everyone had eaten and relieved themselves, the journey went on.

When they cleared the trees at one point, it could be seen: White Peaks Castle. It towered as an intimidating presence over the valley, nestled in the mountain in such a way that would make it nigh impossible for it to be successfully besieged. There was but one path to the large draw-bridge, one that that would see any aggressors shot down with arrows before they got within charging distance. Even if they did... The chasm between the raised drawbridge and the stone was daunting. snow fluttered into the darkness and then disappeared.

As Orson had mentioned, the towers and walls were made of dark granite. Dremara had to admit she was impressed; whoever had built this fortress had built it with defense in mind. As they moved closer to the place, she could spot the small windows where archers could snipe with little risk of exposing themselves.

Soon they finally reached the gate, two stone gargoyle statues flanking where the bridge would come down. The dogs were panting hard, having had to bear the weight of the sleds up the incline. They seemed to be relieved to reach a more flat landing, a few of them taking a few mouthfuls of snow to quench their thirst.

"Welcome to White Peaks Castle," Y'Sennia remarked to the group, getting up from the sled and setting the furs down upon it before approaching the chasm. She squinted at the nearby towers, seemingly waiting for something. When it didn't happen, she made an annoyed "tsk" noise before standing between the gargoyles. Her arm was held out with her palm upturned, and though one might not have noticed it, her shadow grew from where her feet stood and slipped its way inside. After a few moments of silence there was the sound of groaning metal and clanking chains. The metal bridge slowly lowered, finally landing with a loud "thunk!"

 

[draco519]

Ironroar’s confident strides matched Orson’s demeanor; carrying boldly up to the intimidating gates of the White Peaks. The stronghold of the mountain; as defended from the lands beyond as it was from RimeHaven. A bastion of security in the foothills of the Whitecaps. The wind gusted his hair, and he heard Ironroar’s impatient chuff. “Wallago..” He cajoled the bear with the words of Ursui. His voice soft to appease his companion.

Applying pressure with a leg, Ironroar turned and he looked back down over the path they’d been climbing the better part of the day, the mountain air snapping through his thick furs on a gust. “You have our thanks for your hospitality, Lady Y’Sennia.”

Cillian cocked an eyebrow, looking up at the structure. He’d followed Orson through worse, he supposed.. But this seemed like madness. Again, he found himself torn between the teachings of his elders and the command of his Chieftain; and the belief he held in this Night Enchantress.

Fionn’s eyes widened at such a wonder. It was far more fortified than RimeHaven. Walls unlike anything he’d seen; even in Marigill. It was a palace fit for a proper princess. If.. that princess was okay with the architecture being rather okay with no one ever coming to visit. Had Faagen really studied here?

Brannock rolled his tongue in his cheek, hand resting on the haft of his axe in Its saddle harness. He could draw it right now, lop the head off that damn stone beastie he swore was looking right at him. No matter where Thunder’s tired canter took him? He swore it was watching. He’d have sworn an oath under the stars that its eyes were moving.

Roric and Dagris exchanged an uneasy glance… but neither were willing to speak up in front of the others, it seemed. But the men appeared to be of the same mind.

Over the drawbridge and into the courtyard, Orson looked down to the thralls that approached to care for their animals. And he was forced to pull back on Ironroar’s reigns. “Easy!” He commanded, swinging his leg over quickly and jerked the reins once more to make this bear look him in the eye. “Easy…” He reached up, scratching the nose of an stoneclaw that could bite him in half.

“Fionn. Brannock.” He commanded his men. “Care for the animals. Their baser instincts might make them..” Well, he didn’t want to say tear the throats of any who had been touched by the dark magic, but..

“We wouldn’t want to put Lady Y’Sennia’s servants through too much trouble.” His eyes moved to Senni, hoping he caught her meaning. Instead, he waited for Brannock to approach before he gave over the reins. Pulling his sword from the sheath on the side of his faithful mount, he slid it into the one on his hip before he did the same with his shield, strapping it to the harness that held on his furs so he could get it off his back if needed.

Cillian stepped up beside Nettie, carrying their packs, and looked out over the menacing courtyard. A beautiful and impressive structure, but his eyes moved up to the arrow slits and murder holes on the towers. The drawbridge had been impressive enough; but this courtyard? This was a deathtrap. His eyes moved over the cobblestone, seeing the drains for rainwater.

He was sure Lady Y’Sennia meant no harm. But for a raven of Ursui; he felt rather naked. Out in the middle of this courtyard and not moving somewhere unseen. With every opportunity to figure out how to exploit weaknesses in an opponent before he struck. It made him uneasy, though he hid it well.

Orson was ready to get warm, and he looked to Dremara and Senni. “We should get warm, first. We can look at your mirror once we have.”

 

[Poprockz]

The thralls looked nervous, though they didn't speak up about it.

It didn't escape Y'Sennia's notice though, attuned to them as she was. Her eyes looked at them suspiciously before she opened her mouth to respond to Orson's request. Before she could do so, a lanky archer approached with a quickness. The man was wearing black and red leather armor, a scar on his face from his upper left cheek down to the tip of his chin. "Lady Y'Sennia!" He called as he approached. "Lady Y'Sennia, thank the Gods you're back!"

Panicked as he was, barely paid any of them any mind. "I'm not sure how it got there, but there's an enormous boar at the cliff door! We're trying to hold it shut, but it's strong and we're not sure how much longer we can hold it. If we could only battle it, we could-"

"No, no one is to touch it!" Y'Sennia hissed. Shit, it must have leaped the divide...

While the palace had two main entrances that each had their own bridge and chasm, there was a third door that opened onto a landing, and then had a large divide between its cliff and the opposite cliff. It wasn't something that any mortal or beast could normally traverse, and it was there solely because she was the only one who could command the darkness into a walkable path. The boar must have either sprouted wings, or was large and strong enough to make the jump. It wasn't something she had anticipated, and she kicked herself for not planning for such a possibility.

"Stay here or follow me- I need to attend to this threat." The woman swept off, the archer in tow.

 

[draco519]

Orson had been detaching the saddlebag from Ironroar with his things in it when the thrall approached rapidly. He heard what was said. And it didn’t sound good. The conversation deteriorated, rather quickly, when Y’Sennia said not to harm the creature. But they also weren’t strong enough to hold the gates open.

“Brannock!” Roric turned, heading back to their strongest axeman to spell him and tend the animals. He didn’t need to be told the plan of action. “Fionn, Dagris. Stay with our Queen. Ask one of the servants to see her inside.” He leaned closer to Fionn as he passed the boy. “And don’t let her out of your sight.”

Fionn was torn, Roric’s tone left no room to question, but he looked to Orson… and the man made no request for him to do otherwise… So, with the Queen and Nettie he’d go.

“Chin up.” Dagris reassured the lad. “Head high. Your time will come.”

Orson, without a word, nodded his chin ever so slightly upwards at Cillian.

Who immediately retrieved his bow and jogged after Orson as he followed Y’Sennia, Brannock in tow right behind. Axe in hand.

“Thinking it’s primal?” Brannock squeezed the haft of his axe, hoping it was. His manica on his arm glowing faintly with the stormbird’s power. Oh, oh he hoped it was.

“We observe and assist.” Orson replied. “We allow no harm come to Lady Y’Sennia or her people.” He looked over to Brannock with severe eyes. “She does not want the creature harmed.”

“Don’t hurt the beast, don’t let the beast hurt the people.. What do you want me to do?” Brannock inquired of the impossible task laid before him.

“I want you to keep pace, wait for command, shutting up the entire time.” Orson hoped he was clear.

Though, when they arrived at the sluice gate? “Brace the gate!” Orson and Brannock and Killian charged forward.

The gate’s beam had almost been shattered by the time they got there. Leave it to Brannock and his raw strength, however, to reach over those that had been holding it shut, and pushed them closed once more. He even managed to dodge a bit of black sludge from getting on his boot in the process.

“Cillian!” Orson said, taking the new beam up onto his shoulder.

Cillian dashed forwards, pulling the old beam out, the reinforced wood holding for now. Dropping the new beam in, he dug his heels in to keep the gates closed alongside Orson and Brannock.

Brannock, again, the absolute behemoth that he was? Was doing very well to stabilize it all. “This ain’t no primal.” He laughed, a man who’d faced off against many primal beasts. No.. this was something else entirely. But the size and strength? “It ain’t one of Naymeera’s.”

Orson looked back to Senni; she had a choice to make. And quickly.

 

[Poprockz]

Y'Sennia gritted her teeth, her sharp incisors visible from her drawn-back lips. Disgusting thing. She detested the angry squeals that were coming from the other side of the door as it sought to break through.

She couldn't shove the thing over the cliff or it would end up in the river, causing untold damage to not only the forest, but the people of RimeHaven and her own castle. It would literally poison the water supply. So... she couldn't let it in, but she couldn't push it away. What needed to happen was for it to be killed on the ledge.

What if... The Vampress considered it for a moment. The girl could heal, could she not? That was what they told her, but the power she had touched upon inside was for more than mere healing. Perhaps she could burn away the rot if only with a little guidance.

"Fetch the Princess, now."

The thrall did not hesitate to heed her order, sprinting away toward the main hall. Her eyes met Orson's and her steady gaze held his. "No harm will come to her if I can help it, but we need her right now."

 

[draco519]

Orson was holding the gate alongside Brannock, another slam shaking his form and making the big bastard laugh. At least he was enjoying himself.

Fetch the princess, now.

Orson looked up to Senni. She was plotting something. “Cillian.”

Cillian let go of the door, this wasn’t his strong suit anyway. He turned to follow after the thrall. “And what do I tell her?”

“To follow the lady’s instructions.” Orson had been meeting Senni’s gaze. There was uncertainty in his eyes; they knew so little of Dremara’s abilities, but there wasn’t a lot of time to discuss their options.

The beast slammed into the door again, causing Brannock to grunt. “I wonder if we can eat it.”

“We survive this, brother? I’ll hunt you one twice as big.” Orson motivated Brannock in the one of two ways he could be motivated.

No harm will come to her.

Orson nodded. “I trust you.” As though it needed said between them. Against all logic? He did.

 

[Poprockz]

The vampress smiled tensely. She appreciated his willingness to go along with her instructions. It wasn't lost on her that Dremara was important to everything he wanted in life: a secure future for the Kota, legitimacy to his line, and possibly the "light" their prophesy spoke of. Usually she wouldn't take too much stock in prophecies, but this time she couldn't deny that Dremara was unique.

Princess Dremara anxiously waited with Nettie, hoping that nothing befell the other men who had gone to accompany the vampress. She had not known Orson for very long, but he was a good man and she didn't want him to be injured. The entirety of the Kota people would feel the sting of loss should that happen. Not to mention that she would be saddened as well.

The thrall reached the other group before Cillian did, the man addressing the Princess specifically. "The Lady Y'Sennia requests your presence urgently. Please, follow me to where they are." He reached out for her hand, but found himself blocked by a young man with a spear in hand and a resolute look on his face.

 

[draco519]

“No one touches the Queen.” Fionn was deathly serious.

“Lady Y’Sennia-”

“Is not. My. Queen.”

“Fionn.” Dagris reached up, putting a hand on Fionn’s shoulder. “Let’s not make enemies of allies.” Dagris smiled at the thrall. “We-”

“It’s all right.” Cillian finally got there before the thralls could arm themselves, holding a hand up to disarm the room.

“Orson said-”

“You did well, Fionn.” Cillian didn’t have time to explain. He looked to Dremara. “We haven’t a moment to lose.” Cillian explained the situation as he understood it, as quickly as he could. “The boar oozes the black bile that worries Lady Y’Sennia. Given what happened after the Sea-Wraith?” His words were cryptic for a reason. “It’s my belief she thinks you can help.”

“But-” Fionn started to say before he was cut off.

“Go with her.” Cillian instructed Fionn, gesturing to Nettie. “I’ll stay with her.”

Dagris put a gentle hand to the thrall’s shoulder. “We’ll accompany the Princess together. Come.”

 

[Poprockz]

The thrall nodded, satisfied with the outcome.

While Nettie wished she too could come along, she knew she would only be in the way. She had no skills in fighting, nor was she strong. All she could do was wait there with Cillian (who she was grateful was alright) and pray that the Princess was going to be alright. They would protect her... they had to, didn't they?

As the rest of the group left, she looked up at Cillian. "They'll be fine, won't they?" Her eyes soft brown eyes begged for reassurance.

Meanwhile, Dremara hurried along with the thralls, Fionn, and Dagris. She wasn't sure why she was being summoned, but in some ways she was grateful she was. If someone was injured, it was the best place she could be. Not that she wasn't apprehensive about what she might witness; the thought of a cursed, sludge-bearing boar was terrifying, to be sure.

She panted as they rounded the corner, the Princess jumping as a loud slam was heard from beyond the door. When the door budged slightly, she could just a little glimpse of the thing, and it made her want to recoil in disgust. What a horrid thing it was! It was unnatural, and it made bile rise in her throat before she swallowed it down.

"Princess," Y'Sennia commanded, "come here." There was no room for argument in her voice, a tone born of necessity and urgency. The Princess obliged, hurrying over to her without question.

"Face the door and close your eyes."

Dremara did as she was told, feeling the vampress move in behind her to speak in her ear. "Now... somewhere within you, there is light. Search for it, find it, touch it."

Just like when she did her healing, she searched inside herself for the light, feeling it in her core. It wasn't clear what Y'Sennia was planning, but she decided to simply go along with it.

"Good... Now imagine this light growing. Imagine it as a ball of light that cannot contain itself. It burns with the light of the sun and it wants to be released."

The princess's brow furrowed, but she tried to do as she was told. A ball of light? She imagined the light inside herself as a small sun, pulsing with energy. She started to feel heated, particularly in her chest. Unbeknownst to herself, she started to glow with dim light, the same lines traveling from her eyes down to her fingertips.

"Now imagine that it cannot be contained in that ball. Let it flood into the rest of your body. Let it radiate into your arms, your legs, your feet, your chest, your belly... let this energy fill up every part of you."

A soft sigh came from Dremara as she let the light start to permeate her body. It felt... right. It felt comforting and warm, like a mother's caress. The lines on her body ceased to be just lines, her entire body now letting off a strong glow that repulsed the vampress back. Y'Sennia had to retreat and cover her eyes, her skin smoking slightly. Two thralls came to stand in front of her, shielding her from the energy that was being cast from her body.

Now Y'Sennia had to shout to be heard, but she called out her instructions all the same. "Now feel it burn. Feel it burn with the hot fury of the sun! That beast does not belong here- it seeks to destroy everything you know and care about. Direct your energy to it and let it loose! Send your light to it and make it BURN! Open the doors!"

 

[draco519]

Orson kept his shoulder rammed into one of the doors while Brannock held the other. This had immediately devolved into a mess. What manner of creature could do this?!

Dagris got a glimpse of the creature, and it caused the runes on his staff to flare. Something… wrong. Something… Ursui demanded it be cleansed. His eyes shimmered at the sight of it. The crystalline orb he’d mounted on his antler staff with thick cording swirled in revulsion at the sight of such a creature.

Fionn arrived, unsure of what to do. His eyes widening at the sight of such a beast. Pustules, he thought he could make out, along its hide that burst when they contacted the door, leaving smoking indentions in the frostforged iron reinforced hardened oak. Even Orson and Brannock struggled to keep it back. He wanted to help them; he had to stay with his Queen.

Orson looked back when a light caught his eye. The sight of a glow on Dremara’s person, her golden hairs shifting in an unseen wind. Her eyes casting a piercing gaze, lighting up the door in her wake; a tale of radiant fury for whatever she saw. “Brannock…”

Brannock had looked back, too. Astonished.

Though none nearly so awed as Dagris. His voice distant. “Light and darkness.” He could only stare in disbelief. In his lifetime? He would be the -

Open the doors!

What?! Dagris’s eyes opened; horrified.

Orson and Brannock nodded, holding until the thralls got the timber out of the way. Orson drew his sword, Brannock hefted his axe.

As soon as the boar charged through, each man took a front leg out. There was no way they were letting that thing loose in Dremara’s presence. Once they had? The explosion of light caused them both to dive out of the way.

 

[Poprockz]

The Princess's golden eyes had fixed upon the boar and they shone like stars in the darkness. Her hands came out and a beam of light shot out from her palms. The absolute torrent of energy blasted the thing which obliterated even the squeal that had tried to sound at the start of its destruction. Pulses of light continued until the thing was no longer on this earthly plane, not even a drop of it or its sludge to be found.

When it was done, the light abruptly stopped and Dremara's glow receded. Gods... why did her body feel so empty and cold? It was as though winter itself had crawled into her veins. She slumped to her knees, shivering at the ice in her veins.

Y'Sennia herself trembled slightly, though for a different reason. Such power... If such a beam had been directed at herself, she would surely have perished. It was terrifying, yet it gave her hope that now they might have a chance. With power like that, they might even be able to cleanse the lake.

 

[draco519]

Parlor

"They'll be fine, won't they?"

“I guess we’ll find out.” Cillian smirked, then realized how genuinely worried Nettie was. Right. She wasn’t.. She didn’t know him that well. How to get to know people. Think, Raven! “..yes. She’s… our Queen. Orson would cut down anything that thought to disturb a hair on her golden head.”

—

Gates

“Brannock?” Orson got to his feet, seeing the black ooze on his sword but nothing had contacted his skin. Though it… began to dissipate in the wave of scorched stone and floating golden fireflies? It fizzled, bubbles turning into a froth, then a powder, then ash on his sword. Falling with the wind into the snow.

“Aye.” Brannock acknowledged Orson, watching the sludge fade to ash on his boot, axe, and furs. He didn’t know what to make of any of it. But the boar was gone! He was saddened by that. “Guess we’re not eating it, then?”

Orson sheathed his sword, turning back to approach Dremara and Y’Sennia as he examined the looks on their faces, and his hands came out to Dremara’s hips to steady her. He remembered what had happened after she healed Volan. The fever she’d come down with… What would be the consequences of this?

“It’s true, Orson.” Dagris’s voice was breathless. “The runes tell the elders of a light that would cleanse the darkness.” Every rune on his body was glowing; mimicking his staff and swirling orb. Even his antler shimmered. He could see through his shimmering eyes.. “We live in the time of legends.”

“Not now, Dagris.” Orson quieted the man. “First we tend to our Queen.”

 

[Poprockz]

Nettie nodded, satisfied with that answer. "I believe that. You know... When your people came to the Golden City and I overheard Orson making his claim on my lady, I tried to convince her to sneak out of the castle with me and flee. I assumed that he would be a barbaric man, one who takes what he wants without asking and cuts down all who oppose him. I thought he would treat my lady poorly, and that she would only suffer in their marriage."

Her lips curled into a soft smile, "now though? I'm glad to admit that I was entirely wrong in my assumptions. Orson is a good man, better than most of the men I've known. I have no doubt that he will treat her with great care."

......

By now Dremara was starting to visibly tremble from the chill inside her. When she felt Orson's hands on her hips, the warmth from his touch made her want to seek out more of it. She pressed herself against his chest as tightly as she could, trying to seek something to chase away the cold.

"By the Gods, why is it so cold?!" she exclaimed, teeth chattering.

"When you let the sun into your body for the first time, you're bound to feel cold," Y'Sennia explained, coming out from behind her thralls now that it was safe to do so. Her skin still stung from the light's touch, but she wasn't injured. "And such pure power attracts darkness, as I had suspected. I have no doubt that our Princess would be able to purge it from her system after a time of sickness, but such tribulations are unnecessary when you have someone like myself here to aid you."

She took a few steps towards them. "Might I be allowed to treat her? It may be better for me to do so privately."