Winter's Frozen Heart [Attn: Ravak]

[Sunny]

Dakson Torellion

A Tairen man of average height and the build of a fighter stood on the wall of the Citadel, staring into the swirling snow that led, as far as he could tell, into oblivion. There was certainly no chance of seeing the ground through that mess of cold fury. He turned away, pulling the dark gray cloak of the Ji’alantin tightly around him in a futile effort to block the buffeting wind.

It had been an unusually hard winter in Shienar, by all accounts, and the Citadel had sent a messenger to the Tower asking for some folk to give those permanently stationed in the north a break from the cold. Dakson, born and bred in the warmth of the south, would have normally avoided such an assignment as if his manhood depended on it –which given the temperature he wasn’t sure it didn’t- but there had been other factors at work.

Those factors had involved smoldering gray eyes, pouty lips, and a perfect curve of the hip and waist; a woman’s touch, and the irresistible private pleasures that came with such assets. Against his own better judgment Dax had continued to find his way into Avarie Simir’s bed, until one day the petite blond had told him she wanted children. His response had not pleased her -he could still feel the ache in his gut where she had punched him- but he certainly had no interest in creating tiny humans. Her anger unsettled him, and so when given the chance to get away, far away, he had taken it. Subsequently he froze for his sins- none of the women in the blasted Citadel were attractive enough to bother pursuing, and thus his bed remained cold. Bloody Tower. Bloody flaming women!

He growled and worked his way through the drifting snow until he reached the small room where his companion –a Drin’far’ji named Ravak who seemed to be an incurable priss- crouched with his hands cupped over the oil lamp. “I still can’t see a bloody thing,” Dax said grumpily, stomping his feet to knock the ice off. “What’s the point of keeping watch at the top of a wall when you can’t see two hands in front of your flaming face?” He pulled his gloves off with his teeth, and, still holding the tips of the gloves in his mouth, went to the sideboard and rummaged through until he found one of the unappetizing bars of solid goo that these northern soldiers liked to call ‘food.’ He ate it in two bites, then glanced at the clock on the wall. At least two hours before either of them would get a proper meal.

[Craig]

Ravak Darrow

Ravak Darrow had returned home.

It wasn't quite the homecoming the red-haired Drin'far'ji had expected. Instead of being amongst his friends and family in the streets of Fal Dara, he was freezing to the core within the walls of the Citadel, the Grey Tower's northern bastion. It was a harsh winter, even for Shienar, so had put to bed all southlander jibes. Not that his chaperon of sorts appreciated them in the first place. Whilst Rav had requested this posting, Dax Torellion was here as penance for something. The black-haired Tairen hadn't had to say anything in particular; his rough tone was too severe for anything else to be the case. And he swore like a Tairen sailor. Ravak had only met one Tairen sailor, on his journey from Shienar to the Grey Tower, and that encounter had left some indelible marks on his vocabulary.

Rav moved from his bed, an insufferable thing with a lumpy mattress, to carefully crouch by an oil lamp, rearranging the two scabbards at his waist so he could get low enough to bring some feeling back to his fingers. He would have rather had his longsword across his back, in form with how the Shienaran army wore their greatswords, but he was learning about forms, and you couldn't Unfold the Fan with a back scabbard.

The door opened, a squall of icy wind driving snow into the room, before Dax shut it firmly. He kicked the snow off of his boots, then started muttering curses. Maybe not as florid as the sailor Rav thought. But what Dax lacked in caliber, he made up for in regularity.

Rav stood up with an effort, feeling the same aches in his legs that suffused his entire body, then sat back on the bed. The cold was already returning to his hands. "We're keeping watch because it's our duty, and it's the Blightborder. What more do you need to know?" The Shienaran tone wasn't harsh, but nor was it sympathetic. They were here because their orders and their duty demanded it. That was a good enough reason for Ravak; duty was always a good enough reason for doing something. Rav thought that Dax looked unconvinced by that line of reasoning.

[Sunny]

Dax

Dax tucked his gloves into his belt as he turned to stare at Ravak. Why it surprised him that a Shienaran would view staring into snow as a reasonable expectation of duty was a mystery. Borderlanders had a peculiar notion of honor and duty that made the Tairen's skin itch. He noticed Ravak's hair, alight from the glow from the glow. How does a Shienaran get red hair?

"Does duty remove a man's common sense?" He asked. "A fist of trollocs could pass half a span away and none of us would ever know. A Halfman could have tweaked my nose and stolen my purse, and I would have been too busy fighting the wind to notice." His stomach growled in agreement with his annoyance; after a moment he found a graceless seat on his own bed, staring across at his companion in silent frustration.

"Do you do anything besides complain?" Ravak asked in that same flat voice.

"Certainly. When I am not being smothered in snow, I spend my time buffeting others, or being buffeted, with a sword. I drink, I play at dice and cards, and I enjoy the timely company of the fairer sex. Do you know any pretty girls?" An unreadable expression crossed Rav's face, and Dax's eyebrows went up. "You do! Tell me about this beauty. Is she in the Grey Tower, or waiting at home for you to finish your snowfall-staring duties?" He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. The Drin'far'ji seemed disinterested in responding, but even his silence was better than thinking about the cold creeping up Dax's back side. "What does she look like?"

Before Ravak could respond -if he was going to respond- The door opened, emitting another blast of frigid air. Dax cursed fluently as he yanked his cloak around him. "Watch your mouth, Ji'alantin." the blonde Gaidar who stood there said, giving him a cold look. "You represent the Grey Tower here, and so far you're doing a remarkably poor job of it." Dax opened his mouth to object, then closed it again, uncomfortably aware that the woman was probably right.

Monika nodded acknowledgement of his self control, then gestured for them to stand. "A patrol that went into the Blight before this storm began failed to return," she said. "Although there is little chance they are alive, the Citadel is sending out scouts to see if we can locate some indication of their fate." Although her face remained chiseled of stone, her voice seemed heavy, and Dax looked at the ground. He had grown up hearing tales of the Blight, each more horrific and unbelievable than the next. He had never cared to find out which were true and which not, but if even a quarter were, then that group had met a terrible end indeed. "Meet me at the north gate in a quarter of a glass; dress warmly, but be prepared to shed layers as we go north."

"In this snow?" Dakson asked, surprised despite himself.

"The snow will stop soon after we depart," Monika said. "You will see." She departed then, leaving the two men staring at each other.

"The snow...will stop?" Dax asked Ravak. "Will we have a channeler with us?" He had not known any were in the Citadel, and struggled to control his discomfort.

---
OOC: Dax literally knows nothing factual about the Blight.

[Craig]

Ravak Darrow

Ravak shuddered as the door opened a second time, although by the way it was being held open by Monika Gaidar, he realised he wasn’t going to be warm any time soon. He was standing to attention before Dax had stopped cursing, and smirked as the Ji was admonished. That grin faded as the Gaidar spoke.

“A patrol that went into the Blight before this storm began failed to return." Rav shivered despite himself. He sensed where this conversation was headed immediately, and Monika’s words confirmed that. They were going into the Blight.

Ravak knew a bit about the Blightborder. Signal towers ran the length of the border, from World’s End on the coast of Saldaea to the Spine of the World beyond Tarwin’s Gap in the east. Each tower housed a mirror and brazier, which allowed for the quick reinforcement of lancers, or signalled to outlying settlements to shelter within the tower’s walls. Beyond that was the Blight, and its innumerous Shadowspawn. He knew more about Shadowspawn than about the Blightborder, although he had never seen a Fade or a Trolloc in his life.

“Meet me at the North Gate in a quarter of a glass. Dress warmly, but be prepared to shed layers as we go north.” Ravak nodded, already turning to the small chest at the foot of his bed that contained those possessions that weren’t already on his body, or residing in the Tower.

“In this snow?” That had been Dax. Heavy winter or no, the snow would die out as they approached the Blight. He knew that it was hot in the Blight, although not the reasons why. He’d heard confusing and contradictory reports about the Blight from some of his fellow - no, former - former brothers in the army, but they all agreed that it was hot. I’ll need to get some waterskins, and pack them with snow. The door shut, and the Shienaran turned round. Dax seemed at a loss.

“The snow… will stop? Will we have a channeller with us?” The Tairen looked dismayed at the prospect, although whether that was about the weather or the channeller, he didn't know.

“It’ll be hot in the Blight.” Rav tried to make it sound like he knew from experience, but he had already confided in Dax that he had never been into the Blight before. “Hot as the Aiel Waste, I heard.” That statement had come from one of those former brothers-in-arms, although he doubted that man had experience with how hot the Waste was; Rav certainly didn’t.

The Fal Daran was already wrapped in as many layers as he had. His swords were already by his side, but he retrieved a small knife and sheath, and tucked that into his belt. He pulled three empty waterskins out, and a pouch containing flint and steel. He didn’t know if there would be tinder north of the border, but it was best to be prepared. Kicking the chest shut, he straightened out his uniform underneath his cloak.

“I’ll get us waterskins.”

Dax responded, although Rav was unsure if the black-haired man was cursing under his breath or growling. It made little difference. Empty waterskins in hand, and swaddled in as many layers as he could bear and carry, he pulled the door open. The wind howled in his ears, but he caught Dax’s words through it. “Light burn you, some warning would-” The door slammed close, shutting out the rest of the curse.

As Rav filled the waterskins in the biting cold, he wondered what the day would bring. He had travelled to the Grey Tower from Shienar in order to learn how to fight Shadowspawn. This foray into the Blight ran the real possibility of mortal risk from those said Shadowspawn, and not just to himself. That both Gaidar and Ji he was accompanying were better trained made no difference to the duty of care he felt. If he died today, that was something he could accept, so long as everyone else survived. The shiver that ran through him had nothing to do with the cold. Staring into the formless white void that spun all around, Ravak pictured faces of people he may never see again. His expression hardened as he assumed the Void, pushing those faces and the emotions they brought up away. He couldn’t, wouldn’t let someone die because he was lost in reverie.

OOC: I was going to go to the stables, but I know nowt 'bout horses

[Sunny]

Dax stared at the door after Ravak had left, consternation churning his gut. It would be hot in the Blight? How was that even possible? His feet tingled in response, a mute reminder of the chill that had crept into his very bones. He had seen men missing fingers and toes due to the bite of the cold- he had no desire to lose any of his own.

He stripped his boots off and pulled on two pairs of socks, then stomped his feet back into the leather. He already wore so many layers he would be hard-pressed to defend himself if something did beset him, and the cold cut through it all. They had tried to prepare him at the Tower, but how could mere words adequately convey the knives that stabbed into his lungs when he opened that door?

The Tairen stumbled through the snow to the stables and discovered to his annoyance that they were actually warmer than his bed chamber. A bustle of activity swirled through teh corridor between the stalls as stablehands prepared horses. A groom stopped him before he walked in too far, and handed him the reins to a rangy black gelding with white socks. "This here's Twinkle Toes," the Shienaran said gruffly. "Be wary, he's earned his name. I trust you know how to mount?" His voice was flat, his face all bland concern.

"Yes I know how to mount a bloody horse," Dax snarled, snatching the reins away. The groom gestured the direcetion he was to go, and the Ji'alantin led "Twinkle Toes" to where Monika and Ravak already stood waiting. The Shienaran, he noticed sourly, had been given a pale silver gelding with white mane and tail, whereas Monika's warhorse stood a full two hands taller than either of the others. He noticed that all three had been equipped with bulging packs, and felt his stomach grumble angrily. Hopefully one of those leather satchels contained something edible. He knew it was beyond possibility for anything resembling beer to lurk there, and sighed unhappily.

"Mount up," Monika said shortly, suiting actions to words. As Dax hoisted himself into the saddle, he noticed other trios forming up. He found it obscurely comforting that they would not be the only ones searching. A servant handed them each a lantern; he took his, his thoughts still far away. He had no idea what was to come, and although typically Dakson enjoyed the element of surprise in his daily routine, the Blight took it a little too far. Long before he was truly ready to go, Monika led the way out, lantern held high. Ravak went next, and Dax took up the rear, cursing his inability to hold his cloak shut while holding a light and directing a horse.

Monika led them in an unerring straight line north from the gate, apparently looking everywhere at once. Two hours later, though clouds still brewed low and angry in the sky, the snow had stopped and the heat had grown until all three of them had removed their heavy winter gear and strapped it in neat bundles to their saddlebags. Dax had done his best to hide his annoyance that Ravak had been correct about the weather, or how uncomfortable he was at the abrupt change. The growing stench of rot that assaulted his nose did him no favors, either.

Eventually the dark-eyed gaidar held a hand up for them to stop. "Take a break," she said gruffly once they had gathered together. "Eat something, I could hear you both from a mile away. Water your horses. I need to tell the two of you a few things for your own safety- it may as well be now." Lovely. A lecture. Dax twisted without a word and rummaged in the packs until he found a wrapped package. To his disgust, it contained more of those disgusting lumps of soggy travel rations.
---


OOC: I figured I'd grant you the honor of explaining the basic safety precautions of Blight travel. I made Monika up, so you're welcome to develop her in any way you like and I'll play along.

[Craig]

Ravak Darrow

Ravak's mood had grown more determined as they rode further out from the Citadel. His eyes darted around, looking for the slightest irregularity, or for signs of Shadowspawn. A small voice inside told him that he was the least experienced of the trio. Even if Dax knew less about the Blight than he did, he could handle a sword better, and that would likely count for more.

Passing the borderpost was a sobering experience. Ravak had grown up seeing borderposts from the safety of Fal Dara. They were there to send warnings whenever an incursion was upon them, allowing the lancers to ride out to anywhere along the Blightborder. He had seen them for Fal Dara, but never this close. They were functional constructions, as everything in Sheinar was. A huge mirror stood near a huge brazier, the method of sending messages along the network. He had occasionally thought what it would be like to serve at one of those towers. Rav had dreamed of the solitude, and also of the isolation. But it wasn't the most isolated like the Blight was. If you had trouble in the Blight, there was no signal you could light for reinforcements. Likely, you would be dead before you could think of sending a signal.

He shuddered, not from the cold, but he drew his cloak in anyways. An hour later, and that same cloak had been strapped to his gelding's saddlebags as the air took on the heat of a summer's day. The gelding, silvery like the quarterstaff propped up in his quarters, was called Nothru. Rav recognised it as a name in the Old Tongue, but not its meaning. Back at the Citadel, he had mentally noted to look up the Old Tongue once he returned to the Grey Tower. Nothru kept a steady pace between Monika Gaidar's warhorse and Dax's black gelding.

As time passed, the weather got warmer. Dax and Ravak alike began to peel off layers of clothing. The Gaidar seemed unaffected by the increasing heat, or at least did not react to it. The air didn't just get hotter, it also began to get damp. Originally Rav thought of the baths back home, how the steam made skin glisten before you got your toes into the water. But there was no steam, and this was no bathhouse.

After what seemed like hours, although Ravak suspected his mind was playing tricks, the Gaidar's warhorse slowed to a halt. Rav eased Nothru to stand beside Monika's mount. The Gaidar spoke in a gruff tone that suited her stony visage. "Take a break. Eat something, I could hear you both from a mile away." His stomach rumbled in agreement, the first time that he had noticed. Watching the horizon for trouble had been taking up all of his attention. "I need to tell the two of you a few things for your own safety. It may as well be now." Blonde hair swayed slightly as she made a dismissive gesture, although whether that was to herself or aimed at the men, Rav couldn't tell.

All three dismounted to water their horses. Ravak ate something that resembled food, but he wasn't about to complain. His complaints, voiced in a low muttering as he moved about, was how the grey shirt and britches of his uniform clung to his sweat-drenched form. That and the smell. Even before eating, the inside of his mouth was full of a rank taste. The taste and the smell was one of violence. Rav was still getting used to that, smelling violence, but it didn't surprise him.

As the Drin and Ji went about their business, the Gaidar spoke. Her voice was firm, quiet, and had the trace of Illian buried deep underneath more natural Andoran tones. "Take that look off your faces." Both Dax and Ravak wore matching looks of disgust as they ate their rations. "Once we get into the Blight, you'd be throwing up anything more delectable. That should at least stay in your stomachs."

Once we're in the Blight? "We're not in the Blight now?" Rav failed to keep incredulity out of his words. "Light."

The look Monika returned could have held any number of meanings, although all of them were displeased. "We're just on the outskirts, Drin'far'ji. If we get close enough to any of the trees here, you'll see that they're almost bare, the only leaves yellowed with the slightest motes of black. Deeper into the Blight, and those trees will be full of foilage, and as black as night."

"Trees? What's so important about trees?" Ravak tried to recollect anything he had heard the patrols talking about in reference to trees, but nothing came to him.

"Trees will kill in the Blight." The way Monika said it was so matter-of-factly, it was galling. "Flowers can burst with a pollen that will kill a man in seconds. The leaves are deceptively sharp, that you can maul your hand to shreds just by trying to touch one. I've seen that happen before, and not even Healing helped." She paused to let that knowledge sink into the two junior soldiers. "There's also sticks. If a stick bites you, the only think you can do to save yourself is to cut off whatever was bitten. I heard of one fool who just stared in horror as his hand dissolved, then his wrist, then the forearm. He only lived because someone else did what needed doing, and they were close to the Citadel when it happened."

Ravak felt lightheaded. His skin crawled, goosebumps developing in spite of the heat, and his stomach churned. He had to place a hand on Nothru's flank just to hold himself upright. Without realising it, he was staring down a couple of trees in the distance, his mind conjuring up sickening images. Rav was dimly aware of a Tairen's voice cursing beside him; Dax was handling the information better, or at least in a tried and tested fashion. The Shienaran just wanted to cur up into a ball. He tried to form the Oneness, to push away the sights and smells of the Blight, just to hone in on himself and Nothru, to focus on something simple. The strain was too much, but at least he kept himself standing.

Monika nodded approvingly, but it was just the slightest inclination of her head. "Good to see you're taking this to heart. The paperwork that accompanies someone dying out here is not something I wish to reexperience. Mount up." The Gaidar was already sat atop her brown warhorse before Rav had the strength of will to place a foot in Nothru's stirrup. On his second attempt, he mounted the silver gelding, offering a reassuring pat. The horse had better nerves than its rider, and the group of three began to move off once more.

Edit: Fixing typos.

[Sunny]

Dakson Torellion

Dax had never been so uncomfortable. His skin crawled in the hot air, and he could not completely dismiss the idea that invisible eyes watched him from the distorted trees that dotted the landscape at discordant intervals. If this is the Blight, I will die happy never coming back, he thought as he rolled the travel bar in his mouth. It tasted even worse than usual, and he was fairly certain it had something to do with the stench.

When Monika commented on their location, Rav blurted out the question he had been about to ask. He was just as glad to have a mouth full of disgusting mush after Monika's biting response. You would think that woman would thaw a little in this heat, he thought irritably. He examined the trees -what he could see form where he stood, anyway- as Ravak and the Gaidar discussed a thing called "sticks" and their death-dealing potential. Great. He had thought that having an angry woman in the south and a too-serious boy sharing his personal space were bad enough; clearly the Creator had an interesting sense of humor.

Dax found himself swearing again. The stray thought that he had used more profanity in the last two weeks than he had in the last ten years crossed his mind, and his mood shift from fear and annoyance to amusement. A moment later he was laughing, and his companion gave him a flat stare that said "are you quite done yet" more clearly than words. He stared right back for a long moment, then turned to face ahead. If the very trees could attack them, he wanted to be sure he came nowhere near them.

After they mounted, Monika looked them both over. "You will take the left flank," she told the Shienaran, "And you will take the right," she looked back at Dax. "Go as far out as you can and stil be in eyesight. Watch for any indication of approaching Shadowspawn from land or sky. Trollocs, Halfmen, and Draghkar are common in the Blight, we do not want to be caught unawares. I'll be in the center following the missing patrol's tracks." Dax nodded slowly- it made sense to have scouts. However, it seemed she hadn't finsihed. "Keep your ears open. If you hear anything resembling a high-pitched shriek, you get back to me immediately." Despite her harsh tone, she seemed worried; she saw Dax's blank look, and quirked her lips, clearly torn on whether to elaborate.

To his initial relief, she chose to speak. "Do you know those little bugs that live in gardens- long, thin, spiky, hundreds of legs?" He nodded- he had seen a few at the Grey Tower grounds. "A Blight worm looks like that, except even a small one is large enough to swallow a horse whole. They travel in packs and they move almost too quickly for the eye to track." The Gaidar's hand was resting on her sword hilt, her eyes scanning the horizon as she spoke; Dax shivered, the mental image of one of those innocuous bugs large enough to swallow Twinkle Toes filling his mental eye.

"On top of that, the only way to kill one is to chop it into pieces; if the One Power is used, it simply makes the creatures stronger. Legend says they were created by Aginor...an experiment, apparently, though to what ends I couldn't say." Her face remaind stony, but he got the impression of disbelief that anyone would waste time pondering such things.

"Most importantly, I have never heard of anyone who encountered one and lived to tell the tale," Monika continued. "Unless you wish to meet the Creator early, you must be vigilant. If you hear their call you flee as fast and far as you can, as quietly as you are able. Leave your bravado and heroics behind- they will only get you killed. Got it? Let's go."

---

Alone to the right of Monika's barely-visible form, Dax struggled to ignore the thread of fear that had wound its way around his spine. Worms. Sticks. Draghkar. Myddraal and Trollocs. At least he had heard of the last two, but even if half the stories he had heard were untrue, the rest were certainly more than enough to keep his mind busy with the horrible ways he could die. Anxious though he was, he maintained vigilant watch with both eyes and ears. Eventually he drowned out his fear with the simple mantra "I am not going to die," murmured over and over again until he could hear it throbbing in time with his pulse.

Time passed, and even the mantra subsided, replaced with a familiar dull boredom that the sellsword had not encountered since he came to the Grey Tower years before. He tried to play games with the landscape or to tell himself stories, but the heat, the smell, and the odd orange color of the ground pressed in on him until he thought he would suffocate from the pressure. Finally he resorted to doing simple arithmetic problems in his head- two and two are four. Four and four are eight. Eight and eight-

He had managed to get himself well into six digit numbers when he saw movement at the crest of a hill in the distance. He stopped counting, and turned his full attention to the hill. A moment later, he saw a tell tale plume of dust- someone, or something, was moving ahead of them, obscured by the rotting vegetation.

The Tairen wasted no time getting back to the Gaidar. If he had to die, he might as well do it with companions.

OOC: My only specification is "not a worm," (despite the focus of my post ) because even one of the Forsaken barely survived an encounter with one of those. I'm good with basically anything else, be it friend or foe, encounter or near miss. Whee! \o/

[Craig]

Ravak Darrow

Sitting astride on Nothru made the effort of keeping upright less of a strain, but the feelings of crippling nausea was writhing through Rav like... Well, he didn't want to think about it, but the imagery of a Blight worm was running unabated through his mind. He sought the refuge of the ko'di, but his head was unable to focus on anything but those mental images. It was some slight relief that he and Dax had to take flanking positions. At least the Ji and Gaidar would be unable to see his pale visage from that distance.

Riding away to the left, Rav navigated Nothru carefully through the landscape, giving a wide berth to the sickly trees that dotted the place. The gelding picked up on its rider's displeasure, eyes watching those trees with vigilance. There were other dangers too, of course, both real and imagined. Somewhere there would be Trollocs, foul abominations that were an unholy blending of man and animal. He had only heard of Trollocs, but unlike some southerners who thought they were only stories, the Shienaran knew them to be real. Their heads were largely humanoid, but they were normally defaced with a boar's snout or an eagle's overshaped beak, or ram's horns, or... Abominations, one and all. Apparently they were also larger than the average man. He really wasn't wishing to find out.

Eventually, Rav was able to think of something that wasn't Shadow-wrought horrors. Just simple things like the feel of his weapons against his side, and the saddle beneath his thighs, was enough to see colour return to his face. After a while, he was even able to assume the ko'di, focusing on the landscape around him for any sign of disturbance. Nothru's hooves trod over reddish dusty ground, a small cloud of particles forming in their wake. The heat and the coating of sweat over his entire body barely touched him in the ko'di, but he was aware of the need to stay hydrated. He drank lukewarm water with an unpleasant aftertaste from a skin, but even that was cold in comparison to the air. Even without all of the other dangers, the heat was another predator that would sap the life from the three scouts if they weren't careful.

The red-haired Drin realised he was also trying to wash away a nasty taste in his mouth. He sat up straight to smell, breathing in deep through his nose despite the sickly sweet smell of corruption and decay. There was another foulness in the air, strong and vile. The ko'di vanished, and he desperately wished for his scarf. Looking to the right, he saw Monika beckoning him, and further away Dax was already moving back to the Gaidar's position. Rav made speed, but not in haste, to fall in line with the rest of the party.

Both the Ji and the Gaidar's attention was on a hill before them, a plume of unsettled dust rising from behind a copse of wilted trees and brushes not too far ahead. As soon as he was within speaking distance, the Shienaran spoke. "Shadowspawn. And they've killed someone." His voice was confident, more confident than he thought he was. The smell he had detected was indescribably foul, a far cry from the Warders' Yard. Somehow he knew that it meant murder, and of a sort only applicable to Shadowspawn.

For some surprise, Monika simply nodded. "I've seen Trolloc tracks, although it can be hard to tell how recently from the soil. We may have found the patrol." The cool manner of the blonde Gaidar's tone was so matter-of-fact, Rav questioned whether she had any heart. The people we're looking for are dead and butchered by Trollocs, the Light burn her! None of this showed on his face; he still looked pale and clammy from the climate.

Carefully they moved up the hillside, avoiding the deadly thicket. Monika followed tracks that the Shienaran couldn't perceive, although his nose told him that they were definitely following the murderers; his sinuses burned from the stench like he had a fever. Eventually the scouting party crested the wall. Below them on the hill's gentle slope, kicking up red dust in their wake, was a cluster of six figures. Large shapes, some clad in furs, others in leathers, were dragging the body of a horse. Several blows, any of them lethal, were visible on the animal's flank. Rav heard the whisper of "Trollocs" just as he noticed that one of the figures bore a large set of curled horns. At the pace the Trollocs were setting, the party of three could be on them in three minutes on horseback.

Ravak glanced at his two companions. Were they going to have to get any closer to these inhuman savages? It seemed clear enough that they didn't have anyone from the patrol, even if they had one of their steeds, still with its saddlebags. It was possible the rest of them escaped. His right hand gripped the pommel of his sword-breaker in expectation.

OOC: I'll let you decide whether we go charging in And apologies for the long delay in responding.

[Sunny]

Dakson Torellion

The creatures below caused Dax to re-evaluate his life choices faster than anything he had ever encountered before. He would rather survive countless beatings from his older brothers, endless lies from his father's lips, or a thousand insults from those who thought themselves better than he, than look at those monsters for even one moment longer. A Captain Commander is just a man. I could have killed him, rode away, lived long and died an old man. He swallowed hard, and found that the putrid scent assaulting his senses did nothing for his discomfort.

Rav sat his horse stolidly, but his face was set in an unpleasant grimace, his thoughts clearly troubled. Monika, as usual, remained stonelike and distant, her eyes scanning the scene before them. What happens if one of them looks our way? Dax thought, his own gaze turning back to the actual manifestation of the stories he had heard as a child. They were shorter than he expected, and yet at the same time, more than tall enough. His mind could not quite make sense of the mixture of human and animal parts; when he realized some of them had mixtures of multiple animals, he felt his stomach turn. He steadfastly avoided looking at the mutilated horse, but eventually his gaze drifted there, and he tensed. The stories said Trollocs ate their kills. If they were dragging a horse, where were the humans?

"Be glad it is only trollocs," Monika hissed, turning from her observation. "Trollocs are slow and stupid, and they anticipate a meal from that beast. We should be able to circle around and pick up the patrol's tracks beyond without attracting their notice." She led them away quietly. "They can pull a scent faster than hounds," she added, once they had achieved some distance. "Be prepared- just in case." She led them east without another word, and Dax followed in step with Ravak, his thoughts unpleasantly heavy and dark.

Half an hour passed in unending drudgery combined with hair-raising fear. If I am to be Gaidin, he thought in an oddly pragmatic moment, I will have to face Shadowspawn someday. If it's today, at least I don't have to wait in anticipation much longer. His hand dropped to his sword hilt, the cold metal reassuringly real in this land of unpleasant oddities, and his mind began to clear. By the time Monika drew up at the bottom of a hill to examine one of those twisted black trees, he once again felt ready to take on anything. He sniffed the air, and thought he caught a whiff of smoke. It was so fleeting he dismissed it.

"They are over the hill," Monika said. "Prepare to fight in what way makes sense to you, but be fast. There are Shadowspawn." Even with his renewed confidence, he thought his insides might turn to jelly. A moment later his equilibrium returned, and he nodded simple acceptance.

When they crested the hill, Dax hastily averted his eyes from the sickening sight below. There were indeed trollocs. They milled around a campfire, over which a large iron pot hung. A collection of armor and weapons lay in a pile to the side, blood-streaked and battered. One of the Shadowspawn held what Dax belatedly realized was a human arm, and was pecking at it with its hawk-shaped beak. A moment later, he realized what had to be in the giant pot and bit his lip so hard he tasted blood to prevent his curses from giving them away.

Monika kicked her horse forward. The trollocs, distracted by their meal, didn't notice her presence until two of them fell, heads severed from their shoulders by the whirling silver streak of the Gaidar's blade, and a third fell beneath her horse's hooves. A moment later, Dax shook himself and drew his sword. Then he guided Twinkle Toes forward, surprised when the horse actually obeyed. Even Borderland horses are hard. The thought floated out of place, then vanished.

He had no time to think, only to act. A trolloc rose before him, a two handed sword that had seen better days gripped in its abnormally large hands. It swung at him, and Dax hauled his horse around, cursing vehemently as he blocked the blow. He hated mounted fighting. It undeniably provided an advantage against monsters that stood head and shoulders taller than he, or he would have left Twinkle Toes behind. He blocked another blow, feinted, then thrust with lightning speed, his blade biting into the space between the monster's helm and armor. The trolloc fell with a guttural howl, and Dax turned, seeking his next target.

OOC:
A) I have no idea how many trollocs are realistic, given their varied levels of skill and our mutual plans for Monika.

B) At some point in this fight, Dax will lose his horse, but keep fighting on foot. I was going to include that + Monika's fall, and then I realized how long this post was already. <_< You are welcome to mention either or both in your post, if you like.

[Craig]

Ravak Darrow

The three horses sped towards the Trollocs, each of the riders with their blades bared. As Rav got within twenty paces, he slid from the silver and white gelding with surprising deftness, already wrapped in the ko'di. Before, on the hilltop, he hadn't realised the sheer size of the trollocs. His head was in line with their chests, bare aside from leather and furs, most of it natural. Fear danced in the stilled portion of his mind.

One Trolloc charged towards Rav, two tusks protruding from its lower jaw like a boar's. Spittle flew from its mouth as it bellowed a guttural roar. It lofted a huge broadaxe above its head, the blade mounted on a tree limb large enough to be a quarterstaff in its own right. Standing still until he was within the Trolloc's reach, Rav watched the Shadowspawn with focused calm. Without the ko'di, it was possible that he'd be looking for Nothru and riding back to the Citadel. The boar-faced Trolloc swung its axe down in an effort to cleave the Shienaran in two, but Rav stepped forward and to the side, his longsword angled towards the beast's stomach. With no time to react, the Trolloc skewered itself, blade plunging three-quarters of the way in before Rav could pull it free.

The smell of murder filled his lungs, and tasting vile on his tongue, but he hadn't a moment to pause. Chasing after the first was another Trolloc, its beaked face covered in blood. He had no time to consider where that blood had come from. The hawk-faced Trolloc gripped a large, slightly curved shortsword in each hand. They looked like daggers in those meaty fists. Silver flashed before him as the Trolloc used its superior range to siice at his head, but the Drin used his longsword to parry each blow. Rav's arms shook from the effort. Trollocs, or at least the two he had seen, moved clumsily, relying on their superior size and strength to get the job done. The job, in this instance, was killing the three Grey Tower folk in their midst. Those thoughts fluttered outside the ko'di, as Rav attacked with Lightning of Three Prongs. He thrust his longsword at the Trolloc, forcing it to keep its distance and pushing it on the defensive. The Shienaran flowed into The Lion on the Hill, his blood-soaked blade held at shoulder height. From there he attacked with The Lion Springs, thrusting towards the Trolloc's heart, then slicing towards the soft flesh of its neck. It parried the first blow with one of the daggers, but it moved too slow to stop Rav's blade from tearing a long gash from the top of its sternum up to its head. Dark blood both poured and sprayed out, and Rav danced quickly to the side to avoid the worst of it; some caught on the trousers of his uniform.

Rav drew his sword-breaker in the moment of respite he had earned, as the hawk-faced Trolloc joined the tusked monster already lying dead on the dusty, orange ground. A whinny brought Rav's attention round to the Gaidar's warhorse as it fell, the brown of its coat sodden with blood. Monika was still atop her mount as it fell behind a mass of Shadowspawn. Two swords now in hand, he ran towards the Gaidar and her fallen mount. No-one is going to die on this excursion if I can help it.