RP:Eboric and Iverfin Search for Loot
Part of the Links to the Past Arc
Eboric pushes through the snow, following in the wake of the three giants as they approach the ruined gates. The sign, put there by Frostmaw's former champion, goes utterly unheeded as the party makes their way further into the forbidden reaches of the snowy realm. Eboric pauses a moment, turning to check if Iverfin is doing alright; the snow is deep, and the temperature is bitter cold.
Iverfin did not struggle so much with the snow, as the giants had cleared a path for her by simply walking through it. Iverfin simply followed in the footsteps of the giants and Eboric, to keep herself out of the deeper snow. But she did not seem to cope with the cold quite as well. Iverfin was better accustomed to warmer climates, as said by her somewhat tanned flesh. Iverfin shivered as she moved, but she did not complain.
Eboric , satisfied that the woman's flesh is not yet blue with the cold, continues on, as the small group crosses onto the icy bridge. The giants tead with exaggerated care, giving the holes in the ancient structure a wide berth. Eboric does the same; his boots, while sturdy and warm, do not offer the best of traction on the slick stones of the bridge.
Iverfin seemed to be at an advantage with certain aspects of their journey. Unlike the giants and Eboric, Iverfin was a light-footed being. Not simply due to her race, but her training too. She knew where to place her feet and how to. Iverfin seemed to know exactly how to walk across this sort of bridge~! Her boots were made for gripping, made for speed and the ability to gain good traction when running up against objects. With the pace and grace she had, she was quickly beside Eboric, grinning slightly.
Eboric gives Iverfin a grimace that is, perhaps intended to serve as a grin. He keeps up his slow, steady pace, trying not to watch the elf dancing lightly over the dangerous bridge. At long last, however, they make it across, plunging into a field of fresh snow. The still air is colder than before, seeping into the bones without the aid of cutting wind. The giants, who had been talking amongst themselves, fall silent now, picking up their pace as if in a hurry to get through this place.
Iverfin of course, did not rush ahead on the bridge. She kept her pace slow enough to match Eboric's, but she still crossed it with a level of ease, save for the cold. Iverfin noticed the way the giants fell silent, and it did worry her~! She had remembered the mention of 'restless dead' and thought they may run into danger at any given moment. But Eboric had said it was all nonsense. Iverfin glanced to him, fingertips itching to hold onto the hilt of her blade.
Eboric , though he can feel the unsettling nature of the field, ignores it, flashing a true grin Iverfin's way, as if mocking the giants' superstition. But he matches their pace, and soon they come within sight of the ruined town, moving along the shattered walls. The giants begin talking again, but their laughter seems forced, and the sounds echo from the destroyed structures sullenly, as if the very air resents the intrusion.
Iverfin felt that awkward, unsettling air. Her gut told her to back out, to leave and never return to this spot. But Iverfin was oddly competitive; oddly determined to impress the leader of the warband she was a part of. Iverfin offered a faint smile in response to the grin, but her eyes mostly focused on the giants watching their reactions and behaviour as if her life depended upon it~!
Eboric 's gargantuan friends fall silent again, their last words swallowed up the the crushing silence. Eboric cannot help but let out a snort of derision, drawing warning glances from the giants. The barbarian turns his head to speak to Iverfin as they walk along the snow-shrouded road. "I have heard the Exiles speak of this place," he says, loudly. "They do not know who lived here, or when, or why it is in rubble. A pity...it would make a good story, don't you think?"
Iverfin caught their gaze, worried somewhat that the giants would probably turn against Eboric. Iverfin nodded at his comment, however, "Aye," she simply breathed the word. Iverfin looked around, enraptured and intimidated all at once by what she saw.
Eboric follows the giants through the broken town, looking about with the gaze of an experienced looter, looking for items of value. He does not turn from the path though, and so on they go...until the giants come to a sudden halt. The child stands before them, seeming not to notice the party at all, so absorbed is she in her grief. The Exiles stand, silent, and even Eboric grows still, watching as the apparition shrieks, and then runs, vanishing from sight as she follows the path of her last living flight. Wordlessly, two of the giants turn, and go back the way they had come. The third does as well, but not before saying, "The signs are bad, Eboric. This journey is ill-fated, the dead are more restless than usual. You would do well to return with us." With that, he is off as well, following his companions. Eboric stares after them in brooding silence for a long moment, before saying to Iverfin. "I go on. You may make your own choice." Without addressing the strange thing they had all just witnessed, he moves on, further into the ruins.
Iverfin couldn't quite see the apparition beyond the giants and Eboric, but she could hear it. And from the sound of it, she didn't really want to see it~! Iverfin was glad she hadn't seen what they did, but at the same time she was worried. This could leave her ill-prepared for further apparitions... Iverfin watched the giants leave, looking between them and Eboric. Iverfin followed Eboric without a word.
Eboric moves ahead wordlessly, ignoring the feeling of being watched, ignoring the houses as they pass by, single-minded in his determination to get to the battlefield of which the giants had spoken. He leads Iverfin to a second bridge, this one of rope and boards, covered by a thick layer of ice. If it had not been obvious by the size of the town behind them, this bridge shows full well that those who had lived here before were not giants, and perhaps had lived here before that large race immigrated to Frostmaw. With a grunt of displeasure, the first sound made since seeing the girl, Eboric starts along the bridge, moving in a half-crouch to keep from falling.
Iverfin 's eyes flitted to the houses only briefly as she passed them, not wishing to let her gaze linger upon them. When they came across the rope and board bridge, she gazed at it, attempting to assess how much weight it would truly take. And with the ice... It would be pretty damn dangerous~! Iverfin manoeuvred herself in front of Eboric, looking at him seriously before stepping onto the bridge first. Iverfin's hands hovered above the rope, while her feet seemed to have turned slightly, so she was almost walking sideways. Her movements were slow, precise. Iverfin simply said, "Keep yer knees bent."
Eboric bridles ever so slightly, but accepts the advice all the same, emulating her movements as best as he can. Once they reach the platform in the middle of the bridge, he calls out for her to stop, and sets off west, onto solid ground. Well, relatively solid, as now the pair must weave their way through the turn up, hard-frozen ground as they follow the remnants of the path.
Iverfin seemed to cope a bit better than Eboric with the road and debris blocking it here and there. Iverfin continued to glance back to Eboric, obviously trying to monitor his process along the road.
Eboric manages well enough, making his way through the rubble my forcing through, all the way until the reach what at first seems to be a dead end. Here, the barbarian stops, looking around with narrowed eyes. Moving to the fragments of a building, he finds a spot out of the wind, and proceeds to clear it of snow. He lets his heavy pack down with an audible sigh, and says, "This is where we will camp, when night falls. If we lose each other further on, we will meet back here."
Iverfin followed Eboric religiously, doing whatever she could or that was useful to help. Iverfin waited for the snow to be cleared out of the way, before nodding her head in agreement. She glanced around, wondering what exactly it would get like when it was nightfall.
Eboric pulls from his pack a few small logs, brought from Sage Forest for this reason. Dry as they are, they will burn easily, and then the wetter wood of Frostmaw can be added, when the fire is hot enough to withstand the melting ice. The barbarian arranges the logs skillfully, then rises, shouldering his now mostly-empty pack, and heading toward the small path leading south into the rubble.
Iverfin waited and simply watched for a moment. But after that moment, she checked her equipment and wear. The bow seemed fine, for now. The sword... Well, that was doing great, no harm no foul. She was considering raising her piwafwi, to help insulate against the cold. But for now, it didn't seem all too bad. Maybe when they move further into the lands.
Eboric reaches a place where the path narrows to the point where he must get on his hands and knees and crawl like a child, Unwilling to be in such a comnpromising position without a weapon, he draws a hunting knife from his belt, clamping the frigid metal in his teeth - although being careful to keep his lips and tongue away from it. Thus prepared, he begins to shoulder his way through the cluttered path, moving forward bravely.
Iverfin wasn't too keen on crawling across the ground with.. well, her brave leader's butt in her face. It wasn't exactly the best situation in her opinion. But she waited a few minutes, before dropping to her hands and knees. Hunting knife drawn and also placed carefully between her lips. She shuffled forward, following Eboric.
Eboric makes quick work of the tunnel, despite having some urge to curl up in sleep, covered in fur, while the cold winds rage outside the warm, confined space. Once free, he turns back to help IVerfin up, should she need it, and then sheaths his knife, turning to push ever forward. He leads the elf to the second set of gates, just as battered and broken as the first. The ram that did the deed is visible, and it draws a grin from Eboric, cracking the ice that has gathered in his beard. "I think we've found it," he says to Iverfin.
Iverfin appreciated the assistance in getting to her feet, but not as much as she appreciated not having to stare at the behind of her leader. There was something about it that was just unsettling, not something you're really supposed to look at. Iverfin offered a grin in response to his words, "Aye. D'ye except much in there~?"
Eboric nods. "There must be something...even the giants fear to come here." He moves through the gates, and his words die in his throat. They emerge onto a landscape of death, where countless lumps in the snow mark the preserved bodies of long-dead warriors. The barbarian stops for a moment, looking around in something akin to awe.
Iverfin didn't know if that was really a good thing. But she didn't want to say anything or dampen Eboric's spirit, or maybe make him think she was into that 'nonsense'. Iverfin followed him quietly, noticing the countless lumps in the snow. Certainly, this would mean that not only the bodies had been preserved but what they carried too. Iverfin looked to Eboric, a small grin appearing on her lips.
Eboric leans over to brush the snow from a body. He shakes his head. "These were the first to die. The weak, the unfortunate, the levies. They will have nothing worth taking. The ones that lived, that fought through to the end, they will be the warlords, the ones with valuable things." He pushes on, moving out onto the field of gory ice.
Iverfin gave a nod of her head in agreement, before moving across the ice. Obviously proceeding onto the next point, in search of far better spoils.
Eboric moves through the battlefield, seemingly numb to the brutal scenes that meet his eyes. Every so often, he stops to inspect the bodies, but he never takes anything. Finally, they reach a place so full hidden bodies that one can scarcely walk without stumbling over a snow-covered corpse. Here, Eboric begins to search, numb hands shoveling snow methodically. Through the air, a lone howl sounds, breaking the silence...
Iverfin watched as the man began digging into the snow, obviously moving closer to help. At this point, she had pulled up her piwafwi to help keep warm in this much colder region. But upon hearing that howl - a lone howl no less - she froze in the spot. Her head turned in the approximated direction, eyes blazing with absolute fury. The indication that Iverfin was angry~? Her nostrils flared. Iverfin pulled her bow off of her back, fingers running down the length of string; wiping off the snow and frost and bringing some warmth to it. An arrow was drawn, loosely notched. It would seem as though Iverfin was more than happy to kill a wolf.
Eboric is intent on his search, and does not share in his follower's hatred of the wolf, and so scarcely looks up...until the wolf glides into view, moving across the snow with a grace that belies it's size; for it is a massive wolf, huge and shaggy, and it might well have been following the pair for some time. It pays no heed to the long-dead corpses, focusing instead on the warm, fresh meat waiting for the slaughter. Eboric rises, drawing his axe and seaxe. He throws Iverfin a glance, and notes the hatred in her eyes, remembering her story, and so he simply stands, watching to see what will happen.
Iverfin had not truly expected the wolf to be quite so large. But truly~? It didn't put her off. Not one bit. Iverfin's lips moved silently, chanting something unknown. Justicar, her faithful bow, seemed to radiate a portion of energy, the air crackling about the arrowhead. Iverfin let the arrow fly, praying that it would strike the large wolf. But with the winds so violent in these lands and this height, it would be a miracle if she did~! Even with the arrow being charged with some kind of spell to induce some electricity. Iverfin slung her bow across her back, pulling forth her blade. Iverfin raised her left hand unyieldingly, attempting to bait the wolf into coming forward.
The wolf has apparently been hunted before, as he dodges sideways as soon as his keen ears catch the twang of the boystring. The arrow still strikes a glancing blow along the wolf's flank, the short jolt of electricity sending him sprawling in the snow. He recovers quickly enough, though, launching back into a swift run, closing the distance between himself and the one that attacked him. He lunges, a swift leap meant to bowl Iverfin over and tear out her throat.
Iverfin knew exactly where wolves liked to target. After all, she had experienced that first hand~! Iverfin dived to the side, but found that the wolf had managed to lunge at her legs instead. Teeth clamped onto a lag and her mouth went agape, a silent scream of agony. But when Iverfin saw the wolf this close, she was filled with something more than anger. It was perhaps the urge to kill; destroy and dominate completely. And nothing says 'I own you' more than flaying alive~! Iverfin's hand swiftly tucked into her satchel to produce two fishing hooks. Attached to a finger upon each hand, she swiftly leaned forward and brought her hand to the maw of the beast. Aiming to hook into the corner of its maw and tug harshly. It seems that Iverfin simply wanted to cause the beast pain.
The slavering beast's teeth spring apart in a howl of pain as the hooks catch his jowls, releasing the legas he turns his head along with the hooks, trying to reach the elf's wrist with his reddened teeth. He rears onto his back legs, trying to land his front paws on the offending arm to offbalance the woman, to bring her down so that he can finish the fight.
Iverfin sneered at the sight of pain, leaning forward as if to bask in it more. Seriously, I don't think anyone has seen the elf being so sadistic~! Iverfin inhaled deeply, that effect of time slowing down to allow her to assess the situation. Time to take one for the team on purpose. Iverfin exhaled quickly, dispelling her focus and allowing the paws to offbalance her. Iverfin tilted her body as she turned, allowing the maw to latch onto the skin just below her armpit; biting into her arm. Iverfin's mouth went wide again with the agony, before she withdrew an arrow from the quiver at her hip and drove the arrowhead quite simply through the ear and into the brain, after attempting to tug her arm away. It seemed Iverfin wanted to spare the body of the wolf.
Eboric watches as the wolf almost seems to rejoice in victory, driving those massive teeth as deeply as they can go...but then the arrow slams in from the side, stabbing through the delicate membranes of the ear in a spurt of blood. The huge, yellow eyes glaze over, the body slows, then lies still. Eboric, seeing the fight end, moves over to Iverfin's side, where he will begin to shift the body off of the elf. He does not speak, but he seems oddly proud.
Iverfin groaned slightly as the large wolf was shifted off of her. She stood up immediately, practically panting. All that adrenalin in her system~! Iverfin gave Eboric a grin, commenting in her wheezy voice, "S'upid bas'ard. N'wolf gets awa' wi'biting m'." She glanced at corpse of the wolf, not seeming to care that her arm was oozing blood and her body was leaning more heavily on one side.
Eboric reaches under his layers of fur and metal to his tunic sleeve, from which he tears a healthy amount. Using most of it, he binds up her shoulder, pulling the makeshift bandage tight. With the rest, he kneels to bind her leg, saying, "I know you may not feel it now, but these will hurt later. At least it was a wolf...the wounds will be cleaner, less chance of rotting." He straightens, and unsheathes his belt knife. "Take a trophy," he says, handing the blade to her.
Iverfin stood as still as possible as the injuries were bound by Eboric. She gave a nod of thanks, before taking the knife almost reverently. Iverfin nodded, kneeling before the large wolf. She slipped the knife under the fur, bringing the knife down the body and skinning the pelt off of the creature. She wanted the pelt. This was her trophy. Once she had skinned the creature, she dropped the blade and lifted her own schiavona. Her foot pressed lightly onto the skull of the beast, before the sword came crashing down to sever it. Iverfin sheathed her blade and handed the other belt knife back to Eboric, after wiping it onto her sleeve. She lifted the belt and head of the beast, "Th'pel' is mine. I'll give t'skull t'the people. Let 'em do as they wish wi' it."
Eboric takes the knife and sheathes it again, nodding his head once. "You did well, Iverfin." The shadows seem to have drawn closer since the start of the fight, flickering in and out more strongly than before, while the snow eagerly drinks the fresh blood. Eboric looks around, eying the yet hidden bodies. "Should we head back to the camp, so that you can rest and prepare your pelt?"
Iverfin smiled slightly, nodding her head respectfully. She was honoured by the praise she received from him. Iverfin didn't really take much notice of the shadows, glancing around at the bumps in the snow. "Only if ye want t'. Don't want t'take y'away from yer spoils." She offered a smile, as if to suggest that she was well enough to stay and didn't feel the need to rest.
Eboric nods again, and returns to his search, shifting through the snow. As he draws closer and closer to the largest group of bodies, the flickering shadows seem to gather around behind him, dodging this way and that, never still. He does not notice as he forces his way to the very heart of the pile, breaking the ice as he shoves one body aside to reveal another. The second corpse is covered in horrendous wounds, but the tattered remnants of his armor show that he must have been of some importance. He died with sword in hand, pierced by arrows, slashed by swords, and with his killer's spear transfixing his chest. Eboric grins, reaching down to warm the ice with his hands, trying to melt it from the object of his desire: a pair of bracers, seemingly undamaged, crafted of some black metal, and inlaid with strange symbols wrought in gold. His body heat finally exposes the bracers to the air, for the first time in countless ages. He reaches down to grasp them...and a shadow seems to leap from the corpse, directly up at Eboric. He recoils, but his hands seem stuck to the bracers, and the gathered shadows behind move in, pressing him closer to the body, and the shifting shape that seems to be struggling to leap free. The struggle lasts only a few seconds, for the barbarian's great strength is nothing compared to the souls that cluster around him. He is forced to his knees, and then the shadow below breaks free of the body with the cracking of ice and the screeching of old metal as the bracers seem to move of their own accord, twisting to wrap around the living wrists of the werebear, while the shadow, black against the icy background, swarms the warlord's face, forcing its way in throu mouth, nose, and even ears. The other shadows disperse at that exact moment, and Eboric is thrown backward, writhing in the snow as if in pain. A roar erupts from him, the sound going on and on, impossibly long, before cutting away to silence. The big man's body jerks upright, as if pulled, his hands locking on to the shaft of the spear that juts from the body. With a mighty pull, he wrenches it free, then snaps it over his knee. Turning, he moves away, vanishing into the snow withough a backward glance.