The Winds of Ysgard - Part One

[Ireth]

Rikhard kept running until his legs threatened to collapse under him. They almost did, sinking into soft, squelchy ground well past the ankle. He flailed his arms to keep his balance, craning his neck to see behind him. The Captain's shadow lingered just out of arm's reach, his laughter echoing on the air. It sounded strangely canine.

He blinked, then squinted. That wasn't the Captain, but a red-eyed beast with fur like the starless night. A wolf? Rikhard tried to wrench his legs free of the mire, but every attempt just made him sink deeper. The beast didn't lunge, but sat down and watched him, barking as if to laugh at him.

Rikhard's heart sank. If he tried to escape, the wolf would surely kill him. If he stayed here, he'd be swallowed by the earth itself. One hand clutched at his pendant, and he cried aloud, "Adannus, save me!"

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

Addison saw the beast pounce for Einan.

Black.

That was all the gytrash would see, while Addison--too fatigued to wield her knife, not powerful enough to cast lightning without a device--attacked the blinded beast with the only weapon she had left:

Ari.

 

[DMThaane]

'Pathetic.'

Loke looked up to see Aster standing over him, dressed not as she had been when last he'd seen her but in the lamellar she so preferred, her swordstaff in her hand.

'Get up, lazybones,' she said, giving him a kick. 'There's lives that need taking.'

He turned his head down, the locket still clutched in his hand. "I, I cannot. I am sorry. I just cannot."

'Ugh! Sometimes I wonder which one of us was born the man and which the woman.'

He turned back to her, to the contempt in her eyes. For some reason it filled him with anger. "What would you know of my pain?" he spat. "That you judge me so?"

'I know you're lying in the dirt like a coward while elsewhere blood is spilling into soil.' She raised her spear, preparing to strike him. 'Now get up!'

As he took the blow across his cheek his eyes opened. He was alone. Only him and the body of a dead black dog. No, there were more. His companions were still out there and the black dogs would be after them as well.

He opened his left hand and felt pain lance through his arm. He had gripped the locket so tight that its edge had dug into his palm, piercing the skin. His drying blood now covered it. No matter. He would wash it another time.

He pulled it free and tucked it back down his shirt. His axe was still in his hand, his shield lay by his side. He climbed to his feet, picking up the shield and slinging it over his back, ignoring the pain it caused him. He did not know where the others were and he had run wildly into the moor, yet, in his desperate state he had done nothing to cover his tracks.

He glanced down at his side, at the missing throwing axe. Well the black dog could have it. He could choke on it. Loke had plenty more.

He quickly found the start of his trail and headed off at a run.

 

[Tom]

The choking mists cleared somewhat as Troia ran, and she was able to make out the cluster of trees that marked the campsite. She angled toward it, acutely conscious of the footfalls of the black dog behind her. It did not run as a hound would--with much snarling and baying--but silently, with deadly purpose. Somehow that made it all the more frightening.

She didn't know how much longer she could run. Her legs and lungs burned, and her heartbeat was loud and fast in her ears. The campsite was closer now. She had to make it! A stirring of air at her heels told her the gytrash had caught up. Now she could hear its breathing as well, heavy and long, as it drew ever closer.

At that moment she burst into camp. Thank the gods! Her eyes shot around the campsite, and felt her throat tighten with fear. Where is Rikhard? What happened? Oh, no! What if another gytrash got him?

But there was no time to think about such things. Without a moment to lose, she snatched up her sword from the ground and turned to face the gytrash, with her heart beating like the wings of a frightened bird in her chest.

 

[DMThaane]

Loke reached the camp just in time, finding a wearied Troia facing off against one of the dogs. He swapped his axe into his left hand, advancing another yard while he slipped a throwing axe out its loop. He took another step, judging the distance, then hurled, catching the advancing dog in its left flank.

The beast let out some sort of screeching bark, leaping sideways straight into the dying campfire, scattering embers across the ground, the light playing off its glowing red eyes.

It was wounded but he was too far away to take advantage.

"It's stunned," he called, glancing to see that Troia had a blade in her hand. "Finish it!"

 

[Tom]

Troia stepped forward, sword in her hand and heart in her throat. The gytrash snarled as she drew closer, its red eyes staring into hers, legs trembling as it fought to keep its wounded body upright. Its ears flattened and its lips curled up in a cruel grin full of fangs.

And Troia sprang.

She lunged at the black dog, sword outstretched, and slashed across its throat in a backhand swipe. The beast collapsed into death throes as its lifeblood poured out onto the ground. The frantic twitching lessened and lessened, until it lay still. The stench of blood and piss filled the air.

Feeling suddenly light-headed, Troia fell to her knees, her sword dropping from her slack fingers. Relief--mixed with revulsion--flooded her as she stared at the gytrash's bloody carcass. Her stomach heaved, and she fought to keep her food down. Strands of hair that had escaped her braids fell in her eyes as she bent her head.

"At least--at least it wasn't man or elf," she choked out, once she could speak.

 

[DMThaane]

Loke grimaced. It may not have been a human or elf but it likely would, one day.

"You should pick up that sword," he said, pulling his axe from the beast's side. "This one may be dead but it is not likely to be the last."

He wiped the axe blade on the black dog's matted fur. It was not so horrifying with its throat cut open.

He inhaled, taking in the stench of the gored beast. The smell of death served raw. It was something he had long ago learnt to associate with victory, with survival. The others did not have that. Not yet, perhaps not ever.

"You did well," he said, sliding the throwing axe back into its loop. "It was a good blow. Quick."

He glanced around the camp, looking for any signs of the others. "Where is Rikhard? Did you see him? Were you with him at any point?"

 

[Tom]

Troia stared at the gytrash, at the ruin her blade had made of its throat. Loke's words jolted her out of her trance, though, and she looked up.

"I don't know where Rikhard is." She stood, slowly, and stooped to wipe her blade clean on the grass. She didn't dare clean it on the black dog's fur, as Loke had. Some echo of power seemed to linger over the creature's body, and it made her nervous. "I haven't seen him since he went to dig the latrine."

She swallowed, wondering if he had been hurt. Or even killed! That thought frightened her, and she pushed it away. No, Rikhard would not die, if she and Loke had any say in it.

"Let's find him," she said, squaring her shoulders.

 

[DMThaane]

Rikhard's trail was easy to find. He'd left the ground disturbed around his trench, signs of struggle but with only a single participant. The shovel was nearby, thrown at a fear that had not been real.

"He ran," he said, finding the beginning of his tracks. Heavy footfalls. "From an apparition, most like." He had been panicked, hurling himself forward with little care of footing or plan. "At least he survived and he will be easy to follow."

He tried to offer Troia a reassuring smile. "We'll get to him in time."

He set off. He knew little of animals but people. Them he could track for miles. They would find Rikhard. He could only hope it was before the dogs had the boy run himself to death.

 

[Tom]

The gytrash sprang at Einan, and the world tilted around him as its weight struck him square in the chest. Pain tore through his right arm. His fingers lost their grip on his bow, and it clattered harmlessly to the ground. He followed, hitting his head hard. A spike of pain went through his skull. His vision swam.

Something was pinning him down. Something...something...he knew he should feel fear, but it was so hard to think. Slowly, his vision cleared, and the gytrash came into focus. It stood over him, paws on his shoulders, holding him down, its red eyes burning. A faint thrill of fear ran down Einan's spine, and he struggled to think. Have to escape. Have to get away. Come on, think!

The gytrash's mouth opened, and Einan stared in dull fascination at its fangs. A snarl tore from its maw as it prepared to deliver the killing bite. Finally, real fear penetrated the haze of confusion that muddied Einan's mind, strong and piercing as a ray of light. I'm going to die!

A blur of black and silver fur entered his sight at that moment. It threw itself at the gytrash, biting deep into its shoulder. The gytrash turned its attention from Einan to snap at the creature--Ari, Einan realized with a jolt. Ari danced out of range of the snapping jaws, then dove in for another pass, nipping the creature on its flank. Again he jumped back to a safe distance.

An angry rumble rose to life in the black dog's chest. Einan gasped in relief as it turned to face Ari, releasing him from its hold. He scrambled to his feet, but dizziness hit him and he staggered, trying to find his balance. His bow lay not far from his feet, and he lunged for it, only to fall to the ground.

The gytrash pounced. It landed on Ari, and the sled dog yelped as he was knocked to the ground. He squirmed, trying to escape, but to no avail. Snarling, the gytrash went for his throat--

--And Einan pulled his arrow free of the bowstring. Wincing at the pain in his arm, he whipped the arrow as hard as he could, and, like a huge dart, it sped through the air to hit the gytrash in the flank. The creature whirled, screaming in rage--an eerie sound Einan had never heard before, and wished never to hear again. It lunged at him, but he was ready with his knife. As it came at him, he ducked, and when it was right on top of him he held out the knife.

The gytrash ran onto the blade.

It let out one last howl, and fell dead.

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

Addison sheathed her knife and stood. She looked around. She couldn't sense any gytrash, but still… "There're more." She assured the men, "None're here, but I saw 'em through the buck's eyes. We ain't killed 'em all yet."

The Huntress' shockers proved useful… at least the one that hit its targets. The one she rolled at the illusion had already cooled. Addison slipped the ball into her purse, then moved to the other shocker. She kicked the alpha's corpse out of the way, only to discover the shocker under the carcass had been destroyed. Perhaps a dwarven master smith could make use of the mostly-intact hemisphere, but half the shocker resembled an unpeeled banana. Addison grimaced. Part of her wanted to kick the dead animal and curse, but the corners of her mouth started to smirk with pride.

Maybe Farrun can show me how to do that without mucking up me shocker. Else, I can only repeat that trick once more.

A quick glance confirmed her buck remained unmolested by the gytrashes. "We can eat later. For now, I mean to find the rest o' the hell hounds and put funny ideas in their heads." Addison started toward camp. She didn't know where the dogs were, and a part of her hoped that she was looking in the wrong place. Her friends didn't have magic. They have Loke.​ Addison clung to the hope that that beast of a man would be enough…

 

[Gryphos]

In his struggle to escape the bog all Bendlaitz had achieved was turning himself all the way around so he now faced the gytrash, which still sat there patiently. Bendalitz supposed he could wrestle himself free of the bog if he really exerted himself, but then what would that achieve? He'd simply trade being trapped in a bog with being trapped between the jaws of a dog. For the escape from the bog would be slow and ungraceful, and he wouldn't be able to strike the hound with his dagger before it could strike him.

"Hmm," he said, flicking his blade with his thumb nail. "I assume you're intelligent, else you wouldn't be able to construct such complex scenarios based on my own psyche. You can obviously also understand me right now, because Thoros understood me. However, I doubt your vocal chords are suited for our language."

The gytrash cocked its head to the side, and then a person materialised next to it, a woman in armour and fur. Queen Hala Svora.

"Ah." Bendalitz nodded. "Of course."

"You never bow to me," Hala said, or the gytrash said. "That is a great shame."

"You're right, I would never bow to a magical black hound," Bendalitz aimed those words at the gytrash.

Hala rolled her eyes. "You can at least play along."

"Why?" asked Bendalitz. "I have nothing to learn from you, Svora, because you only know what I know. You as I see you right now, are merely a projection of my own experiences with the Queen. For example, can you tell me about the conversation you had with Addison the night before we left Hintercrown?"

The illusion shrugged her shoulders. "I have no idea."

"Because I have no idea." Bendalitz chuckled and looked to the hound. "See? Now that you've given up the game, your illusions don't mean anything to me anymore."

The illusion smirked. "Well, if I am a projection of your own perspective on Hala Svora, then the same has to be said of Thoros. That is interesting, isn't it?" She looked at the gytrash, and the gytrash nodded its head.

 

[Tom]

Einan breathed a sigh of relief as he stood, sheathing his knife. Another wave of dizziness hit him, however, and he staggered, putting a hand to his temples. Everything turned double for a second, and spun wildly before settling. His right arm throbbed with ragged pain, and he looked down to see blood running from a deep gash in his upper arm.

"I...I think I'm hurt pretty badly," he said, hoping someone was listening. His legs weakened, and he sat down hurriedly before he fell down, clamping one hand over his wounded arm to stanch the bleeding.

 

[Nimue]

Farrun heard Addison's assessment, but his eyes were on Einan as he stood, shakily. Ari surged to his paws, growling still at the stiff black heap of gytrash. Farrun strode over one of the corpses, sheathing his sword, and glanced back at Addison in a soldier's twitch to make sure the field was still clear. Addison was walking off now, and he didn't know how far she was going to get. Her shoulder was bleeding, but she didn't seem to be feeling the damage yet.

"Addison, stay put and sit down," he shouted, unconsciously falling back on the army captain's bark of command. "I'll stop your shoulder bleeding and then we move."

He turned back to Einan in time to see the young elf's knees buckle, and catch his faint remark. Farrun closed the distance and knelt in a hurry, gripping his shoulder above the joint. "Aye, you are," he breathed, and dove in. He dimmed the pain first to stave off shock--the sooner Einan could be on his feet, the better. Then he began to knit together the blood vessels, starting with the deepest cut into the meat of his arm. The flow of blood would keep the wound clean, but he kept an eye for shreds of cloth or matter from the black dog's claws. Simple work--intense and strength-burning, but simple. Something he had done a hundred times before. Something to keep his mind off what he'd just seen.

Thoros!

I am coming. He could feel the powerful beat of the dragon's wings, riding before the winds, and for the first time a surge of triumph rushed over him.

The others?

I can sense all of them. They are unsettled. But I believe I would know if the danger was mortal. Thoros' tone was confident, but Farrun knew the undercurrent of his uncertainty. I will be able to find the Queen's Dagger. His presence is familiar to me. I cannot sense where the others are, only that they are.

With silent thanks to Thoros, Farrun blinked back to where he was, still pouring healing into Einan's arm. He was burning into his stores of magic, but he'd stop and worry about that when everyone was safe. He looked back over his shoulder for Addison. "Thoros can sense the others, they've weathered the attack!" So far. "You'll do them no good if you fall halfway to camp."

 

[Tom]

As the magic poured into Einan's blood, knitting flesh back together, he winced. It felt like thousands of needles were stabbing his skin. "Does healing magic hurt for everyone? Or is it just because I'm an elf? I've heard we're more sensitive to magic."

His own voice sounded strange to him--scratchy, and much too quiet. He frowned and shifted, but stopped when his head reeled. Nausea crept its way into his stomach as his vision continued to spin.

"Thank you for this, Farrun. I also hit my head...just so you know. In case there's anything you can do for that as well. But if not I'm fine. Dizziness never killed anyone. It's just inconvenient."

He cut himself off, realizing that he was rambling. His thoughts were oddly disjointed. Suddenly he felt so tired. Maybe he could sleep it off. That would be nice. But...no. He blinked, hard, to stay focused. Something his father had once said to him came to his mind--something he'd said when warning Einan about the dangers of the wilderness before his first hunting trip. Fall asleep after hitting your head, and you might never wake up.

"Do you know if Troia and the others are alright?" he asked, to keep himself awake. "How many gytrashes attacked us in all?"

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

"Fall?"

Addison looked over her shoulder. She wanted to say that she was too strong to collapse, that she was no damsel in distress, but her shoulder was shredded open. She could shake off pain as the beasts could, and maybe she had extra help with that from gytrash saliva. Maybe it was like a venom that numbed the wound so even dying prey would be lulled by the peaceful illusion. In either case, delaying the healing risked permanent damage. Addison sat cross-legged on the grass.

"Maybe you will need to carry me."

She looked up, and in little time sensed a bird. She had it fly out. Seeing through the bird's eyes took some time, but as soon as Addison felt Farrun's healing touch, she was able to form a link with the bird.

It was disorienting at first, not just being in the air and seeing in grayscale, but having each eye on opposing sides of the head would take some getting used to. Looking downward as she flew made it easy to find camp. Loke was tracking, and Troia was with him. Addison's bird raced ahead in the direction of Loke's gaze.

She found a bog. By the bog was a glowing-eyed mutt waiting for the moment to strike.

Addison now saw through the gytrash's eyes. She tested her ability to control the beast. She looked at the man before her and tried to say his name aloud.

It just came out as a stupid bark made of R's and vowels.

 

[Nimue]

"Aye, it may be that you're sensitive," Farrun said, apologetically. "I could go more slow and careful, but that'd take time we don't have. Better to have it done at once." Impatience was humming in his veins--he wanted nothing more than to run back to the campsite and make certain that everyone was safe, but he couldn't leave these two here for the wolves, dazed and bleeding. He would have to trust to Thoros, and Loke, and Bendalitz...

"Blood loss and a crack to the head have killed plenty of folks," Farrun said drily and absently, his focus still on the broken flesh beneath his fingers. Now he brought up his other hand and pressed his fingers to Einan's temple, tilting his head back with impersonal gentleness. "Look at me." Einan's gaze was unfocused, and Farrun could sense the slight bruising and inflammation beneath his skull. Working inside the head was tricky, and not something he wanted to do in a hurry. He cast a diffuse spell of healing into the area, to ease the bruising and help the flesh recover on its own. Einan wasn't in immediate danger--the rest of the healing would take time and prolonged magical encouragement.

His attention snapped back to Addison as she remarked, matter-of-fact, that she might need to be carried. "That you might," Farrun said under his breath, a little amused despite everything. Thank the gods, she had at least sat herself down.

Einan's bleeding had almost entirely stopped--now for Addison's injuries. "Sit tight," Farrun told him. "And don't nod off. Keep talking to me, will you?"

"Troia's fine, Thoros--" he began, with well-meaning exaggeration, and then Addison softly toppled over. The unmistakable aura of her magic crackled in the air around her.

"Addison!" he bellowed, certain that this would be too much for her, when she still seemed to be in a state of mild shock. But he didn't have a druid's mental powers to wake her, and even if he had, breaking a trance could be dangerous. He reached for her, bracing for a shock, but the hair on his arms just stood on end. He put a firm hand on her collarbone and rolled in with strong, deep-running healing magic, meant to to keep her strength up and her pulse steady as he began to mend her shredded shoulder.

 

[Ireth]

Rikhard shivered in terror and cold as the bog crept upward over his legs. He'd tried to move toward the edge of the bog, but failed miserably every time. And the wolf still waited, snapping its teeth at him with every useless attempt. So he prayed, and stared into the darkness for some sign of aid. Nothing came toward him but a bird soaring overhead.

The wolf gave a horrible snarling noise, as if it was trying to speak. Perhaps it wanted to make him think it was the Captain again. Rikhard shuddered in revulsion, narrowing his eyes as he tried to sound brave. "Lies. Lies and, and shadows. That's all you are."

 

[Legendary Sidekick]

Addison knew that the dog wanted to move forward to kill his prey.

Into the bog.

Her ally would make short work of the beast if he were stuck in the bog with her armed ally. Only the gytrash would have none of that. He pounced at the man--Rikhard?--Addison barely recognized the gray, mud covered face as her dog's-eye-view lunged toward it. She failed to recognize the man's voice as his screams echoed throughout the rapid blur of treetops and swampland. Finally, the dog pulled back. The man's face was equal parts flesh, blood and bone. He remained standing half-submerged, his half-exposed skull wailing in agony as tears of blood poured from eyeless sockets.

Addison could do nothing as the beast moved in to gut the man.

* * *

Addison's body began to sweat profusely. Tears ran down her cheeks. Aside from that, she remained motionless. The air around her was no longer charged with lightning.

 

[DMThaane]

Loke followed the sound of the strange bark and quickly found the bog where Rikhard had mired himself, a black dog waiting at the edge for its prey to succumb to cold or weariness before it moved in for the kill. Well it would not get the chance.

Gesturing for Troia to stay back, he crept forward, sliding a throwing axe from its loop. The dog seemed fixed on Rikhard, too focused to sense that it was now being stalked. A good thing the wind was in his favour.

He hurled the axe, his aim true but his judgment of distance slightly off. The handle smacked into the dog's side and the beast careened into the bog, luckily out of reach of Rikhard.

He charged forward, slipping his axe into his right hand. The beast looked up at him, those baleful eyes attempting to conjure some intimate terror.

"Not this time," he growled, sinking his axe into the beast's head.

His axe still embedded, he heaved the black beast up out of the bog, pulling his axe free and delivering two more blows for good measure.

With the dog most assuredly dead, he knelt beside it, wiping his axe blade down on its fur. He could feel drops of its blood, still warm with life, running down his face. Yet another magical predator he had made prey.

He looked up at Rikhard and smiled. "Well this is a fine mess you've gotten yourself into."

He grabbed his throwing axe up off the ground and stood, sliding it into its loop. He moved around the bank, getting as close to Rikhard as he could before flipping his hand axe around, gripping it firmly be the head.

"Let's get you out of there," he said, offering the shaft to Rikhard.