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The Winds of Ysgard - Part One

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
Rikhard sighed and looked at Einan, glad that someone else seemed to think along the same lines as him. "I don't want to kill either. I've had the chance to, once before... but I couldn't do it. Even knowing everything he'd done, everything he'd taken from me..." His breath caught in his throat, and he fell silent again, staring back at the table.
 

Legendary Sidekick

Staff
Moderator
Addison didn't want to kill either. She also knew she couldn't avoid it…

"On me last hunt, I was in a spot. Me and me hunting partner crossed paths with some men. I meant to spare 'em to clear up what turn out to be a misunderstanding. But once me shocker was set off, I got shot at, and me luck and good intentions didn't stop a bolt from tearing through me calf. I was able to convince the others' boss to call off the shooting, but me partner'd killed two men by then. It ain't that I didn't have me nerve; I didn't have me bow. If not for me partner killing those men, I'd not've lived to tell the tale."

She looked at Einan, Rikhard, and Troia as well. "I ain't looking forward to me first kill that's a person. I dread the thought. And talking's easy, I know. But I know how a shooting fight is, and it's quick. A second's hesitation could prove deadly to someone we care about."

To Farrun, she said, "If we catch an Yvalhyn just minding his business, I'd prefer to use me shocker if capturing's possible. But I expect that me weapon o' choice'll be the arrow or the axe when we inevitably meet the enemy. I made me promise to the Wolf Queen—I won't let any among us die o' hesitation."
 

Nimue

Dark Lord
Farrun lowered his small beer and let out a heavy breath. "Any Yvalhyn we meet so far south will be on unfriendly business. If you do stun him, what then? Do we let him free to wake up in the queen's country and continue on that business? We do not have the means to keep a sorcerer captive over long distances. That would strain me greatly," he said mildly. An understatement.

"Gods willing, we will not see any of their kin for a long time. But when we do, I can tell you that they would kill or capture all of us, and a quick death would be preferred." Not for the first time, he wished they had held on to their secrecy in this unfriendly inn. They would have to regain it on the north road. "You will kill, then, or someone else will do it for you." His voice was uncharacteristically brusque, then softened a little. "If you choose the latter, and do not risk your life doing so, I would not think less of you."

Farrun lifted his mug again and drank, mulling over what had been said. Survival had never been a choice for him--there was too much to lose by his death. He did not think of it, even wounded or burning with magic. Keep going. Keep going. He didn't think that was the same as the instinct Loke lauded, because it was not born of himself, but of the weight that depended on him. And some of that might be lifted, now...

He caught himself staring into a dim corner of the room, and looked up, clearing his throat. There were some questions that he had failed to answer, preoccupied with breakfast and more deeply with listening to the answers the others gave.

As a precaution before he spoke of this, he silently traced a pair of runes with his left hand, creating a ward against eavesdroppers. If anyone outside their table tried to listen in, they would hear only an indistinct hum of voices.

"You asked earlier how we will know our way. Our first and best guide is Thoros--the wizards believe that he will be able to sense living eggs, even buried under stone. As for caves and labyrinths, I would not worry. There are simple spells for seeking the way out. Our second guide is the dragonrider's call, should any of you feel it. It is absolute in its direction; there are stories of people following it across realms, though it would be no more than an inkling at that distance."

"The reason we believe you may be called now, and not someone before you, is because under the pall of the Yvalhyn's wraith sorcery, the dragon eggs went dormant. Now, with that shadow lifted, and Thoros's living presence to encourage them, we hope that they are waking."
 

Legendary Sidekick

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Addison was relieved in a way. She had considered a captive would be questioned, then killed. She had reservations about killing, but understood it had to be done. Questioning a man only to kill him no matter what... she was pretty sure she didn't have it in her to even watch that sort of thing.

"I won't ask another to do me dirty work. An arrow to the head's quick and quiet. I'll only capture if it's an elf and I ain't sure it's the enemy." And how would she know that, she wondered? "Would the Yvalhyn be in uniform? And what if it's a woman? I mean, just an elf woman on her own. I heard stories o' what they do to babies that're half human."

Not wanting to sound defiant, she clarified--or attempted to clarify, "It ain't the thought o' killing that eats at me. It's the thought o' spilling innocent blood. The way Einan got treated when he came in here... I never want to become that. I mean, so reactionary I see pointed ears I put me arrow between 'em. Me understanding o' the Yvalhyn's limited on account o' me being out in the wild more often than not, and pampered by the fashion world between me hunts. I know Yvalhyn rulers are baby-killers which makes 'em scum in me book. I just don't wanna shoot an expecting mother on the run or something. They may be an evil society, but there're good people who were just born there. If they don a uniform, I won't worry about what's in their heart. Me arrow can go into their heart, far as I'm concerned. Out o' uniform, me eyes're ignorant as them thugs who couldn't tell Yvalhyn from Einan."

She wondered if the Yvalhyn army was as male-dominated as the hunting trade. That would considerably decrease the chance of shooting a woman in uniform who turns out to be pregnant. She prayed to Ciarhda she'd have no doubts about her target when it came time to kill a person.
 
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DMThaane

Mystagogue
Loke remembered his first kill. The struggling, the cries, cold elven faces twisted in ill intent. He could remember the feel of the pen knife in his hands. He'd once used it to sharpen quills for… her. He turned it to a different use, cutting deep, spilling red over his hand. The elven faces changed, turning to shock and outrage.

He missed his friends. There was no one he could talk to about such things. Not anymore.

Hearing Addison, he let out a chuckle. "I'm sure we will simply ask and they will truthfully tell what they intend. Regardless this is a discussion that is, perhaps, happening prematurely. It is very unlikely that we will encounter a lone northern elf wandering the lands and if your little lightning traps remain effective, we will have the time to discuss it should it occur."

And he would be more than willing to clean up any mess the others found distasteful. There was nothing he was unwilling to do if it saw the elves finally defeated.
 

Gryphos

Dark Lord
Bendalitz nodded in agreement with Loke. "Indeed. It's an idiot who shoots first, asks questions later. Better to question first – at a safe distance, and preferably with your crossbow loaded – but question first, nonetheless."

He considered what Farrun had said about the Dragonrider's call, which brought his trail of thoughts to the nature of the Dragonrider itself. And dragons.

"Farrun," he said, leaning forward. "You've spoken, and everyone has heard, about this bond you have with Thoros, about the bond a rider can have with their dragon. You speak as if it's something mystical, which it no doubt is – I've never been able tor head another's mind, however useful that would be. But ... dragons are sentient beings, are they not? They can understand our language, feel emotions. Would it therefore not be possible for a person to have a connection with a dragon, minus the reading of the minds, but no less potent, built on nothing but genuine friendship? Could I ride a dragon if it let me, even if I was not its 'rider'?"
 

Legendary Sidekick

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Addison wondered if she was an idiot, then. If Yvalhyn were to be killed on sight, she had no intention to question or speak at all. That made sense to her, tactically. She wondered if her warrior friend had taken the lives of a person yet. Maybe if she had personally experienced the wrongs the Yvalhyn had inflicted on the world…

The conversation had turned to dragon riding while the Huntress was lost in her thoughts. She turned to Troia, who had been silent on the matter and said, "I heard it said life on the hunt's a rough one, but I never thought it that. Hunting's only hard as a Huntress lets it get. She chooses her jobs—no one forced me to go after that wyvern. War's different. These men with us—the one's who killed—they'd no choice. Seems like I'm the odd one here. I got battle experience 'gainst men and 'gainst beasts deadlier than men, but I ain't killed no men."

She wondered if Yvalhyn were the only threats on the road ahead. She would give Farrun a chance to answer Bendalitz's question before asking him, "What o' the beasts we might see on the road? I ain't hunted north o' here. I'm a bit curious about what we'll shoot for eating, and if there's any big game. I mean predators, though I mean to make 'em into prey."

Or me minions. She considered the potential benefits of beast-speaking with the alpha of a pack animal.
 

Tom

Istari
"I'll do what I must, when the time comes," Troia stated, hoping the brave words could kindle some courage in her heart. "I'd have no qualms about killing a Yvalhyn--I know of the suffering my parents endured under them, and I hate them as much as if I'd felt their whips on my own back."

Her hands clenched into fists on the tabletop. For a moment she felt fear as she heard her own words, and the anger behind them. She took a deep breath.

"So you'd kill a Yvalhyn without a second thought," Einan said quietly.

She jerked back, feeling as if she'd been stung. "That's not what I meant."

"No, it is," he insisted, his voice flat. "You said you hate them. You said you'd 'have no qualms' killing one. How is that not what you meant?"

"Stop it," she snapped. Ice froze her insides as her temper rose, and she turned her face away from Einan, her lips tight.

"I have more cause to hate Yvalhyn than you," Einan said. "After all, I was a slave under them for some of my childhood. But I'll still find it hard to kill one if I have to. That's what makes us different from them--we may kill, but we consider it a necessary evil. We don't embrace it."

"You don't need to lecture me, Einan," Troia replied coldly, biting off the end of every word. "I'm not a child."

Einan snarled in annoyance and stood up, his arms crossed. "Fine. It's obvious you're not going to listen to me. Maybe you'll listen to someone else."

With that, he stormed outside.
 

Legendary Sidekick

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Addison decided she'd ask about beasts later. She figured a table full of men was the last place Troia'd want to be now.

She lightly put her hand on Troia's arm. "Can we talk… somewhere else?" She watched Einan storm off, then added rather hastily, "Not about him. I mean… if ye want. I just ain't an authority on the subject."
 

Tom

Istari
Troia's temper suddenly deserted her, like snowflakes melting in the heat. She glanced around the table, mouth dry, as she wondered what the others would say.

However, when Addison spoke, she caught her question and used it as a lifeline, pulling herself to safety. "Of course we can talk...where do you want to go?"

She stood up, but braced one hand against the table, suddenly unsure that her legs could support her. Her knees had gone weak. Swallowing her hurt and her lingering anger, she held herself tall, shoulders back. She would not quell in the face of conflict. She would stand and face it.

---

Still fuming, Einan made his way to the stable, and found Wind's stall. He opened the door and slipped inside, holding his hand out for Wind to scent. The big gelding snuffed at his fingers, ears twitching forward and back, as if he could smell the anger simmering under Einan's skin.

Einan ducked out of the stall for a moment to grab a brush. As he started brushing Wind's coat, he said aloud, "She doesn't understand. It's not right to kill something--or someone--without feeling anything. Even when you kill just an animal, like a deer, you still feel sad as it dies."

...And I'm talking to a horse, he thought, rolling his eyes.

However, his frustration remained, so he went on, his voice growing more forceful. "How can she say something like that? How can she think she can kill another person without feeling guilt and grief? Even if they are Yvalhyn? A person is still a person!"

Wind flinched, emitting a squeal, and Einan realized he'd brushed too hard, rasping the brush's thick bristles against the horse's sensitive skin. He reached up and stroked Wind's shoulder, murmuring soothing words to him.
 

Legendary Sidekick

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Addison was about to offer her arm, but it didn't seem necessary. She replied to Troia, "How about me room? That way, Farrun knows where to find us when we need to be off, and o' course I can pack as we talk then help ye get your things together."

* * *

Addison sat on her bed, leaving more than ample room for her guest. Don't wanna give her the wrong idea… or get the wrong idea meself.

"Just talk o' killing's getting everyone tense. Those who killed think those who ain't ain't got the nerve, and those who ain't killed question the mindset. Princess, ye look less a killer than any of us, but ye say you'd have no qualms. I take ye at your word."

Addison removed the bow from her shoulder. It was meant for killing beasts, not people. But I hunt monsters, and men and beasts are as capable o' being monsters.

"What'd they do to your parents?" She watched Troia's eyes as the question sank in. There was a strength in the girl where the Huntress was most vulnerable. "Oh, yes. I believe ye when ye say you'd kill 'em, the Yvalhyn. But when I say the words meself, a part o' me says, bullshit, Addy. That's the part o' me that knows damn well I could've picked up me bow when the men came playing for blood. I was on higher ground. I could've picked 'em off instead o' getting shot."

She felt a tear and wasted no effort stopping it. "I was able to spare some o' the men, there was a common enemy and we joined forces to beat it. I thought me hunting partner was fine with me plan—and it worked, it did—but when the hunt was over, he just left… just left me axe on the ground and disappeared without a word." She took a breath. She didn't want her voice to crack. I look plenty pathetic. No need to sound it, too.

"I don't mean to pry, but if ye tell me how the Yvalhyn hurt your parents—what makes ye hate 'em enough to kill 'em—maybe I can hate 'em enough too. Not as personally as you, but enough that I won't keep thinking o' ways to spare the enemy knowing full well what I can do with me bow."
 

Tom

Istari
Troia looked down, picking at a stray thread in the blanket. "They nearly killed my mother--she didn't bring in enough wheat one harvest, and they...they whipped her until her back was in bloody shreds. I've seen her scars. They're...they're horrible. And my father...he was forced to watch them--" she swallowed, feeling tears rush to her eyes "--kill his family. His parents, and his brother--even his sister, still in the cradle. All because they'd sheltered a runaway."

Her temper returned, surging in like winter stormclouds, cold and all-encompassing. Her voice came out hollow. She felt so detached. Like she wasn't the one speaking. "I hate them. They cause pain and suffering, so they should feel pain and suffering in return."
 

Legendary Sidekick

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Addison took Troia's hand in both of hers. "Thank you." Her vision was blurred by tears of her own. Oh, what the men'd say o' this.

She released Troia's hands to wipe her own eyes, then said to her, "I hate seeing ye in pain, Princess, but when we cross paths with the Yvalhyn, I'll be thinking o' your family. Ye can trust what ye told me'll guide me arrow. And speaking o' that, ye and I need to shoot together. Maybe I can help ye shoot a bit straighter, but there's more to it. You'll want to know how to stay light in your steps so they can't hear ye coming, how to shoot from where you're hidden and be sure you're hidden. If we're to kill these Yvalhyn on sight, we do it as Huntresses."
 

Nimue

Dark Lord
Farrun scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I can't speak of any dragon but Thoros, of course," he answered Bendalitz, "But you could certainly make friends with a dragon without being its rider, and Thoros would let any of you ride him if that was needed--though it might be dangerous, as none of you could let him know if you fell off.

"But now, I don't think that a good human friendship would mean as much to a dragon, because...well, they're capable of a deeper connection. The bond is akin to how dragons relate to each other, and they crave that. I know Thoros is always complaining of how muddy and insincere human words are. The thing is, they're not human, and never will be." He drew up the reins on his rambling, and raised an eyebrow. "Why, are you thinking of riding Thoros about, old friend--"

They were interrupted by the row between Einan and Troia. Farrun's brow crinkled as he watched Einan storm off, and he was grateful that Addison took Troia in hand. "'Scuse me," he said abruptly, and rose from the table, grabbing an apple from a bowl as he did so.

There were few places to go, outside the inn, and when Einan was not in the courtyard, Farrun ducked into the stable. Einan's hair shone in the dimness, in his mount's stall. Farrun went over to Boar's box and offered the big gelding the apple, making certain that his boots crunched on the straw underfoot so Einan would know he was there. Only when Boar had reduced the treat to slobber on his palm did Farrun speak.

"When we speak of the Yvalhyn, you must understand that we have met only soldiers and slavers. Children, mothers, innocents--they live in the cities in the north. Even the lords never raised their families here. All those Yvalhyn who live in Ysgard have bloodied hands.

"Do not compare the Iridheen to them. Don't you dare compare yourself to them. It is night and day, Vyrhel and Hathvar of the Hearth."
 

Gryphos

Dark Lord
Bendalitz was about to answer before Farrun wandered off, but shut his mouth and shrugged instead, thinking on the answer he received for his question. So it was possible. Difficult, but possible. And that's all that mattered.

With apparently everyone having departed the table but him, Rikhard and Loke, he sighed. "You know, I've always admired love as a concept," he said aloud, not particularly aimed in any direction. "I really have."
 

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
Rikhard wasn't sure where that remark had come from, but he decided to play along. "What do you mean?"
 

Gryphos

Dark Lord
"Well, it's a beautiful thing, is it not?" said Bendalitz. "Love. The way two people can share such a deep connection, at every layer, from physical attraction to unfaltering affection. It's wonderful. I say 'admire' because, sadly, my profession has not allowed me to personally explore this aspect of our existence. What about you?"
 

DMThaane

Mystagogue
"For my part," Loke said. "I've known many kinds of love and it warms my heart to know the elves could not take that from me. I see these people who love nothing, they just kill, like… like boulders rolling down a hill. What is that? They don't even love killing they just, destroy. What is the point of that?"

Of course his own loves had not gone well. He had failed Sigrun just as he had failed Asbjorn but her death was not his fault and his son was a wise and strong boy, despite his failings as father. He would not let his love of either become poisoned.

"Though I must admit, love of country has always eluded me. I seem to be of an unsettled nature. I would fight and die for these people but I will never be one of them. I may own a house but it will never be my home." He stretched out, as though throwing off the weight of sedentary life. "I'm not meant for courts or farms. Give me a camp, a warm fire, and an enemy to fight."
 

Ireth

Mythic Scribe
Rikhard nodded slowly, then spoke after a pause. "I've known love, long ago. My mother raised me on her own after my father died when I was two. We lived on the sea, so I never knew the land enough to love it. I wouldn't quite say I love the sea either, though... I can't bring myself to worship Rhunon since she took my father from me, and keeps my mother's body beside his." He swallowed, wondering whether to go on. That wasn't the end of the story, not even close. "She was killed when I was fifteen. After that there was no more love... just pain."

He took too large a gulp of water, and choked on it. But he was glad of the coughing, for it disguised his tears.
 

Gryphos

Dark Lord
Bendalitz couldn't help but laugh, despite how insensitive it must have sounded. " 'no love, just pain'. You sound like a right tortured soul." He chuckled some more, before reaching over to pat Richard on the shoulder. "I only jest. It must have been very traumatising for you." He leant back again. "I don't know what's become of my parents. My father was sold into slavery by the Yvalhyn and I've never seen him since, and ever since I first joined the rebellion I haven't seen my mother either. I'm not particularly bothered."
 
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