Act 3: North Through The Foothills

Syrillian felt his blade slice through the saddle and immediately he was thrown to the ground. The world became a flurry of sky and snow as he slammed into the icy earth. Landing first on his shoulder which sent him tumbling to a stop. For a few seconds he lay there huffing trying to regain the air in his lungs. When he did move he felt a searing pain shoot into his leg and a groan of pain escaped his mouth. During the fall one of his daggers had found home in his thigh. "Fuck." Luckily it hadn't sunken to deep and as he grasped the handle he prepared himself for what was yet to come.

Slowly Syrillian removed his dagger from his leg. He had put a stick in his mouth to bite on and had prepared a wrap to start. With a final push of effort the blade loosed itself and Syrillian could feel himself getting light headed. Quickly he wrapped his wound and began to stand, the knee had been enough to slow his walking with this now added on top. Looking back toward where the chaos of a journey had began he started to limp back toward the others, holding the one dagger in his hand. He wasn't sure what fate the valkurian would meet but it sounded painful.

" Just had to go for the jump didn't ya." Syrillian scolded himself shaking his head and spitting blood from a cut lip. He wiped his mouth and continued forward. " Atleast I'm alive."

---------------
Ouchie haha but glad to be alive

Heal Check 17

Rholf took the weapon from the Valkurian standing over Amon. He gave the Valkurian a mighty shove, sending the man sprawling before his countrymen. He turned back to Amon and helped him to his feet. "I would have crushed him before he would have killed you," he rumbled. The barbarian seemed to shrink in stature slightly as he talked. The rush of combat had ended. Rholf had devastated the Valkurians in the skirmish and showed one wound for it. "The cart and donkey were as dangerous as these ones," he commented while jabbing a finger at the Valkurians.

The barbarian rested Mountainfall on his shoulder, letting the blood and melted snow drip, leaving a trail behind as he walked in the direction of Freya. He approached the tree and found the woman where he had left her, she clutched a bolt in her hands. "It is over. Tiberius talked with them during the melee. And they listened," he said incredulously. He left it to Freya to remain where she was or to join him in walking back to the others.

When Rholf returned, he let Tiberius discuss the terms of the Valkurian's surrender. "Kill them and be done with it. Throw their bodies over the cliff and the snow will cover our tracks," he thought. His further reasoning led him to believe that it would be difficult to maintain prisoners. They were extra mouths to feed. While discussions are ongoing, Rholf will be picking through the corpses for anything valuable or interesting.

Amon gratefully accepted Rholf's help. "Thank you. When he got himself on top of me, I thought I was done for. I was quite glad to see you come around."

Amon applied pressure to his wound while he retrieved his bow from the snow. It would seem the battle was over, but now they had another problem. 'I have neither the capability nor the desire to bring these men along with us.' He thought. 'But it could be a problem getting rid of them... Tiberius seems an honorable sort.' Amon chuckled softly for a moment. He himself had been that way, not so long ago. Before betrayal and the cruelty of the world made him what he was now...

'If Tiberus insists on sparing them, or taking them with us, then I will do what needs to be done.' Amon thought. Amon glanced over at the barbarian. Judging by the look on Rholf's face, Amon was confident that he would have an aly in the large man if this plan became necessary.

His shield settled by his side as he relaxed his arm and let out his breath in a long sigh.  "You have chosen well."  He glanced to the other Valkurian that had surrendered and nodded.  He then turned his attention to the others, watching Rholf approach Freya's tree.  

He narrowed his eyes as he studied the large barbarian's muscular back.  Being witness to the brutal efficiency of Rholf's hammer instilled a discomfort.  Tantorus would have to grant a miracle if Tiberius were to have a chance standing up to the man if he were to turn Mountainfall against them.

A slow turn of his neck allowed him to scan the scattered debris of their wagon in the snow.  It stopped and his face fell in sorrow as he glimpsed the body of Coyote, twisted and broken.  'I killed him.  Forgive me lord, I killed him.'  

He swallowed hard and looked back to the prisoners.  "Yes.  Surrender any other weapons you carry to the snow before we search you.  It would not be wise to try to risk us finding one." He waited for them to deposit any daggers or knives they still had, then gathered the weapons and piled them together on top of his shield.  

He pulled a rolled length of rope from the snow and offered it to Syrillian after he had rejoined them.  "Help me bind them?"  He glanced up and down the man's form, then placed a hand on Syriallian's shoulder.  "You did not have it easy.  How do you feel?"  Tiberius closed his eyes and offered a short prayer to Tantorus, causing a tingling euphoric feeling to spread into Syriallian's wounds from his touch.

[Cure light wounds]

His hand fell to his side and he turned his voice to the group.  "With the wagon in pieces and Gladys gone, our items are too much burden to carry.  Perhaps we could fashion crude sleds for these two to drag while bound?"

"We should make a fire to warm ourselves while the sleds are built and loaded.  I will see to Coyote's burial and rites."

After assisting in the binding of the Valkurians, he approached Freya and knelt beside her.  "I am sorry, my Freya.  If it were not for the strength of our companions and Tantorus' divine blessings, we would have fallen in this valley.  I saw you crushed.  Are you alright?"

---------

Proposes burying Coyote, and building sleds for the Valkurians to drag his and Freya's stuff.

Tiberius wrote:

"With the wagon in pieces and Gladys gone, our items are too much burden to carry. Perhaps we could fashion crude sleds for these two to drag while bound?"

Rholf shook his head at the suggestion. "Just kill them now and be done with it. Why slowly kill them by having them drag your belongings? That is not mercy," scoffed the barbarian. "I will gather tinder for the fire," he said while walking toward the trees. "The Valkurians will be a burden, not a help."

...

Tiberius wrote:

"I will see to Coyote's burial and rites."

"I will throw the dead over the cliff after I have claimed what possessions they have," replied Rholf. "Swords, leathers and coin will go a long way to feed us," he added while picking up the booted foot of the Valkurian leader and began removing the valuables. The barbarian lined up each of the dead and had all their equipment and valuables laid in a sloppy pile near the tinder.

"How many horses do we have?" he asked.

Half bent over with his hand placed against his bandage Syrillian lurched forward. Shocks of pain tore through him with each step rendering him almost crippled. A sigh of relief left his mouth as he saw the crash in sight continuing to make his way forward. Upon reaching the crash he saw that the last two Valkurian men had been put to their knees. “Surrender eh? You Valkurians are good at starting fights you can’t end.” He said as he walking past Rholf, Amon and their prisoner. The mood in the air felt peculiar as if saying "What now?" He doubted the prisoners would be alive much longer, less mouths less worries.

Catching sight of Tiberius hauling the alive Valkurians goods peeked his interest and he made his way over. “Ergh” Syrillian sighed settling next to Tiberius letting the muscles in his leg relax. He watched as Tiberius piled up the prisoners weapons and then offered him a length of rope. "Help me bind them?". ”Better them restricted than us.” Syrillian added taking the rope. Tiberius had looked him up and down and could see what shape he was in.

"A little embarrassed, however like my wounds, my ego will heal as well." He joked as a cough of blood left his lips and he grimaced as he wiped it away as he felt a hand placed upon his shoulder. Tiberius offered a prayer to his god and once again Syrillian felt that weird tingling feeling flow through him. He felt the burning in his lungs fade and the headache he had passed. The aching pain in his leg had begun to fade, curious Syrillian removed his crude wrap to see that though his skin was bloodstained that the wound had gone.

Once again Syrillian had felt confused and compelled to ask Tiberius about his miracle healing. Before he could Tiberius had walked off continuing to talk about the prisoners and of coyote's burial. Syrillian wasn't sure on how to feel for coyote's death, he had not gotten to know him well enough to grieve but instead gave his respects as a brother in arms. He watched as Tiberius walked over to talk to Freya and he wondered if she was okay.

Turning his attention to the sound of Rholfs husk voice he listened as Rholf proposed his plan. "Any daggers by chance?" Syrillian quipped.

Xander emerged from the snowy thicket, dusted with leaves punctuated by branches and scrapes. In his gloved hand he grasped the leather reigns that extended to the bridles of two panting horses. He was able to corral the pair creatures after unmounting their riders, and failed to grasp the third. It had broken for the deeper wood,taking it's chances in the wild, it's fate uncertain.

It surveying the afterbirth of the melee, it seems all their fate too were not yet decided. Save for those that laid motionless in the crimson soaked snow, little droplets of condensation rising from their wounds as if their souls were seeking escape from their mortal cages.

The slight halfling lashed the hesitant steeds to to a sappy pine walking to over to the center of the now ended fray, next to Tiberous and Freya.

"They will kill them, if you don't stop them."

Xander whispered soft enough that the sound died before the went any further than the divine human's ear, his voice shuddering imperceptibly.

Looking into the two men knelt into the snow, shaking- it was unclear who was to blame-

was the conflict between the two nations at fault,
an overzealous Valkurian commander.
was it the interlopers that failed to yield.

is this what the world outside her sheltered upbringing was.

The field bled red with questions unanswered.

Xanders thoughts were interrupted by the sickening heave of a massive creature's punctured lung, the sucking would slorping desperately. It was coming from the horse that he rode across the clearing, trampling one man, who he could now see had dead, and after fought over, with the slickly greased mustachioed man.

Xander stood next to the creature and stooped low.

If you were standing next to the brutal assassin, you would could have heard the words uttered to the suffering beast, or seen the dagger slipped from blacken boot or spied the tears welled in soft eyes. strange behavior for such a cold hearted killer.

"I'm sorry"

The dagger ended it's pain quckly. Xander wiped away the moisture just as fast.

Freya’s mind turns to mud, thick and sticky, as she sits up against the tree. She thinks she might simple disappear into it; sinking through the dead ivy and into the rough core, the roots winding between her toes as she simply disappears. She would start a thought… I should go find Ti—… and then be unable to finish it. Time passes quickly. Too slowly. And then again. Rolf stands above her delivering the news that Tiberius’ diplomacy has saved the group yet again. She nods at him in thanks and opens her mouth to speak but finds her voice gravelly, her throat sore from the icy air and the power through which her God screamed through her. She simply smiles weakly at the barbarian before watching him take off, hobbling away.

She can hear the men who they’d taken as prisoners; her group arguing over what to do with them as if they had a choice. Tiberius is doing his best to convince them to remain calm and spare the captured. Sometimes his piousness gets in the way of him seeing things clearly. He thinks it a virtue, but in Freya’s opinion his devout worship of Tantorous — his devout worship of her, simply because she was His descendant, was his biggest flaw. Possibly his most fatal.

She feels him approach, hovering near her and she meets his wide, unblinking eyes as he speaks, his features tinged with reverent concern. With love.

"I am sorry, my Freya.  If it were not for the strength of our companions and Tantorus' divine blessings, we would have fallen in this valley.  I saw you crushed.  Are you alright?”

She cocks her head sideways and reaches out with her free hand, the beast’s coat falling away from her nearly naked body with the action. She enjoy’s watching Tiberius’ reaction to her naked body as she runs one hand along the stubble of his chiseled cheek, her thumb rubbing across his bottom lip. He is here, she thinks to herself. He’s here, he survived. A smile flickers in her eyes at that as her hearts warms ever so. She loves the way his eyes dance over her skin. She closes hers for a long moment, relishing the way her body reacts and aches from the caress of his mere gaze.

“I’m fine,” she lies as she snaps her eyes open, a coldness returning to her as she’s thrust back into the reality of circumstance. It hurts to speak the words and she swallows hard, flinching.

She snatches her hand away from his face to find a fresh bit of snow. She scoops it into her mouth. A soft moan escapes her, tears of relief filling her eyes as the snow soothes her throat.

“You’re the wrong kind of hero, you know that, don’t you?” She says finally, her words dripping with vitriol. “It’s going to get you killed, Tiberius.” She meets his eyes with a guttural ferocity as she finishes, knowing her words would stun him, “It’s going to get me killed.”

She waits for a response as she makes her way to her feet, allowing the thick coat to fall to the ground. She looks down at herself. Her gown is ripped, baring her left breast completely, the rest of her dressing gown rendered translucent and bloodied, clinging to her body. She takes the arrowhead in her right hand and cuts the dress away before donning the beast’s coat once more. Feeling his eyes on her all the while. She glances up to meet them.

—————————————————————
Frey Frey might be going cray cray?
Freya gets all naked n’ stuff
Freya challenges Tiberius’ core belief system

He closes his eyes as her hand crawls over the stubble of his cheek.  A sigh escapes his lips as his muscles relax.  Her touch reminded him of his purpose.  His promise.  He opened his eyes and looked into hers.  The near nakedness of her body burns the periphery of his vision, lighting his eyes with the kindled fire of their connection.  A smile of satisfaction curled the corner of his lip.  They were still here.

His eyes still simmered as her hand pulled away and her expression changed.  Hardened.  He saw it long before he heard the words.

Freya wrote:

“You’re the wrong kind of hero, you know that, don’t you?” She says finally, her words dripping with vitriol. “It’s going to get you killed, Tiberius.” She meets his eyes with a guttural ferocity as she finishes, knowing her words would stun him, “It’s going to get me killed.”

Straightening his back and legs, he silently rose to his feet with her.  He allows his eyes to follow hers, looking over her torn bodice and the deceitfully delicate curves of her exposed skin.  It was reddened from the cold and peppered by the fog of their breath.  He said nothing as she cut away the material, but when she looked back up at him, he locked his eyes on hers with a stern focused stare.  

He draped a hand on her shoulder and tilted his forehead forward as he spoke words of wisdom that he felt pull at his soul as they rolled from his tongue.  "Fear of death follows only from fear of life,"  He moved his hand and caressed her wild hair over her ear.  "One who lives true is prepared to die at any time."

"I once feared life.  I dreaded every day, but no more. You give my life meaning.  Knowing you are real... that I can touch you... It makes every breath beautiful.  My love for you saved me from fear."  He tightened his grip on her hair, holding her still as they stared into each other's soul.  "I would be honored to die for it."  

He leaned forward and let his eyes close as his cold cracked lips met hers.  He whispered a prayer in his mind as he held her in the kiss, sealing their lips with a squeeze.  The warmth of Tantorus' blessing flowed from the embrace throughout Freya's body, chasing the cold bite of the mountains away in an instant and illuminating them in a radiant glow.

[Cast Endure Elements on Freya]

Syrillian wrote:

"Any daggers by chance?" Syrillian quipped.

The barbarian had been peeling the dead from their armor and setting aside the weapons and shields. He studied the few long knives that were on a couple of the Valkurians. "Some long knives, no daggers. Should still work for what you would need," replied Rholf with a low rumble. He did not look up at Syrillian, he kept working on the dead.

"They are not weak and thin. Must be a haven for them somewhere," commented Rholf, loud enough for the new prisoners to hear. The barbarian took stock of everything he recovered before relaying it to the others.

Actions

Rholf takes stock of all items recovered.
Rholf asks about a haven/shelter the Valkurians might have.

The two Valkurians submit, their breath harried and frosty in the midst of these cold cavernous hills. Silence settles upon you, sweat beading under armor and the stink of battle burning acrid in your nose.

The battle may have been won - but at the cost of your transport, shelter, and bearings.

==============

Ok guys, you find yourselves in the aftermath of this battle, taking account of the spoils of war, and preparing for the journey with two captives in tow.

Plenty of fantastic exposition in these last few posts.

+100 individual experience for the writing
+425 individual experience for the successful combat.

I will be posting the spoils in our treasure thread, so please head over there and grab whatever you please.

What I need from this next post rotation, is an exact summation of how you plan on escorting these prisoners, and what measures you're taking to survive the journey into Valkur. Accompanying rolls preferred, with a generic CON check if you have no specializations.

Creativity will garner the most bonus points for surviving and thriving on this journey.

A new chapter starts tomorrow, into the heart of Valkur.

- The Master

"I asked you a question Valkurian!" roared Rholf. "Answer it! Where is it?" The barbarian paced back and forth in front of them. He had drawn the Dagger of Framn from a hidden sheath under the furs near his waist. The obsidian blade's wicked curve flowed into the charred bone handle. It was stained red with the blood of it's victims. (Intimidate)

He hovered over the bound men, flipping the dagger's point from one to the other. "Give us what we need and you may live to see another spring. Do not, and I will bleed you here and let the winter rot take hold of you," he growled.

Regardless of what the men said, Rholf prepared for the long march. The frigid day would become worse as the sun settled. Both the sun and snow would bring their kind of hell. The barbarian did not want for it, but it did remind him of home.

Actions:

Rholf does Intimidate= d20+5= 21 (Bleed you here real quiet, leave you for dead)
Rholf will Survive= d20+4= 13 (Hey, hey!)
Rholf is Stealth= d20+1= 20 (Sneaking, obviously)
Rholf does Nature= d20+4= 6  (For plants (food) and predicting weather)