[Ascension] Prologue - Lográgæti - The Birth of Heroes

Miz

Miz

Level 20 Mizard

Prologue

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Lográgæti

The Birth of Heroes


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Lográgæti is a special feasting ceremony conducted by Brynnvatnian priests when they feel the Great Lake spirit, Brynnvatn, requires pleasing. Since the first arrival of refugees from the island of Veifa, the priests of Brynnvatn have noticed strange variations in the weather from large surfs to more powerful storms. Such a festival normally occurs septennially (occurring once every seven years) on the first few days of spring. However this Lográgæti is unusual as it occurs in mid-summer. Furthermore this entire festival is out-of-sync. Most on the island were surprised by the declaration of this Lográgæti, expecting that the major feast earlier this year, Skyágæti (a festival to the Spirit Winds) marked the end of the ceremonial festivities.


While there are plenty of fun activities to be had, most of them symbolic for the interaction of the different patron spirits with one another, this ceremony is no laughing matter. Much of the religious class is uneasy about this ceremony that not only breaks with tradition but seems to be prompted by the ocean’s growing restlessness. This is especially true for the Brynnvatnian that have been rumored to lost contact with their divine spirit. Hoping to spare the island the fate of losing a safeguard against one of the seven primal elements, this festival is hoping to inspire Brynnvatn’s return to the island and redeem the island of Gyrtt of any transgressions to the water spirit.


The King and Chieftain of Gryttian Clan however hopes that such a festival will return the island to tranquility once again, alleviating people’s fear of a so-called Kala (or “great ice”).

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You: While partaking in this festival, there are certain mandatory activities that all inhabitants of Grytt must participate. One of these activities is a boat ride out to one of the farthest islet of Grytt where a shrine to Brynnvatn resides. Each of you were in line for such a boat together and made the trip with one another rather arbitrarily, not giving much thought about being with fellow clanmates.


Nevertheless as you finish praying before a large and yet strange waterfall on the small islet that acts as Brynnvatn’s shrine, a bright light appears in the sky descending rapidly in the air. This remarkable sight interrupts all of your silent praying to the Water spirit and instead your attention turns to the falling light. Seemingly bluish in color, it appears almost like a falling star. Hurdling like some sort of boulder however, the star that manifested only seconds earlier plunged into the sea creating a ripple on the ocean’s surface and then a forceful shockwave.


The shockwave’s light blinded you but only for a few seconds. As you all recover your senses on the small islet’s beach, you can see a pillar of bluish light extend into the sky where the star had fallen. It is some distance away, but by the boat you can reach it. Being on the far-side of the island, your party is the closest to the strange light that almost destroyed your island. You all, each for your own reasons, have decided to head to the pillar of light together. Not necessarily to fight, but to at least investigate.
 
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At the beat of the drum, Björn pulled back on the oars in time careful to adjust his strength to match the others. His ears filled with the roaring of the waves, and his keen eyes focused on the pinpoint in the distance. The fallen star was still burning brightly even in the day, but it was still too far for him to make out the details. What this daystar truly was or what portent it foretold he could not discern with his own wisdom. Yet if it was as the rumours of other clans insisted, this only boded ill for the mountain. Had something been done improperly in the ritual and angered the water spirit? That too was beyond his own wisdom...then there was nothing to be done for it but to go. Fortunately as he had made his way to the boats, others of valor and wisdom accompanied him. It was a reassuring company to be amongst.


The rocking of the ship bumped his quiver against his back in time as if some strange omen for battle. That Björn had brought it and his bow at all for this ritual was out of habit. It felt almost wrong to be without them. Banishing the thought from his mind, he noticed the faint pinprick of winter against his skin. This was not the cold that came from the sea, but that which came from the depths of a winter's night. Carefully propping his bow up on his knees for easy reach, Björn focused his sight again on the pillar and the surrounding ocean. This cold, was not of nature's way is what he determined. This deep into summer there was no such cold to be found within or around the island. Could it be...the Kala was here?


".....Be alert."


Even the most disoriented would notice as they drew nearer to the island. The warning to stay on their toes should be enough for this group. Putting his back into the rowing as the drumbeat increased in tempo, Björn made himself ready for anything with grey eyes focused on the blue horizon.
 
There was an eerie silence amongst the group, broken only by the soft motion of the waves being crashed and battered by the oars swung fiercely towards the fallen star in the distance. How odd, that something like this would happen today of all days. The Jötnar didn't really know what to make of it, but questions and curiosities arose in his mind, as he was sure the same things were eminent within everyone else. Before the Jötnar left, he heard of men speaking of warnings, and some of false hope. The men with robes were concerned on both sides as well - nobody knew the true answer to this, but one fact was in agreement - The Kala could just be occurring right now.


The thought made the Jötnar laugh slightly, he surprised himself when he decided to join the group - curiosity had gotten the better of him. Only now did he realise he could be rowing into a death trap! Some same line of thought crossed the thought of the man in front of him - Bjorn - as he gave out a verbal warning. It was good sitting at the back of the boat, he was not blocking anyone's view - and he could see everyone else. He did not recognize everyone here, but he knew of the man in front - they had found each other occasionally in the wilderness. And the man further up, was Vylkor Fenrir - the sword on his back shone brilliantly in the distant sun above.


The oars crashed into the ocean again, and again, and again. This could take a while, and the Jötnar's company here were all nervous - even if they didn't show it. The Jötnar was somewhat to.
 
This is not it. There is no way that those insane fools were right.





Baelin sat across from Björn, rowing in time with the drum beats. The star had fallen from the sky not long before, and it followed the same pattern the Alderians and Veifans told in their stories. Despite the general disbelief of the group, the Gryttians on the whole had chosen to ignore the warnings of the many refugees passing through the area in the past few weeks. Even if the Kala were real, it could not possibly beat down the walls of Grytt's largest fortresses. His people must be safe within the walls. He sighed deeply, counting the beats of the oars on the water from their first.


One, two, three, four.





A failed effort at distraction, at best. His hands shook not from his grip, but from nervous apprehension. His sweat was not due to the heat--it was a cold sweat, out of fear. Baelin was no priest, but he still knew the damage that the Spirits could do if they were angered. A single, terrifying thought crossed his mind, if only for a second: Could we have brought this on ourselves? The thought was steadily beaten down by will and hardened determination. He may be no priest, and they might be going to deal with an angry Spirit, but if it came down to it, he would fight it to save his people.


".....Be alert."





Baelin looked across at Björn as he said this, and laughed. "Yes, Strong Bow, we are. Perhaps it'll be like it was years ago, if we're unlucky enough."





He looked over his shoulder at Shinta and frowned. The woman came to pray with him, as was expected, but against his wishes, she joined him on the journey out to examine the falling star. He didn't understand why, but she claimed something about making sure he made it back alive. He turned back forward, falling back in time for his rowing. He had no intention of dying out here today.
 
Vylkor stands in the front, looking outwards. Bright, shining eyes stare out from a beaten and weathered face. His hook for a left hand, is clenched against the hull of the boat- hooked in to the wood to steady himself, as his other hand rests at his side. His face is grim, as he ponders.


Do I sail finally to my end? Is this it?


Are the spirits truly so engraged 'gainst us?


Bwaha! Bwahahahhahaa! Twill be glorious.... a fitting end to a tale- or a new chapter? I can't wait to find out!





The Old Man starts to chuckle softly- as he fixes his eyes on the light of the fallen star, then looks back.


"Aye, and alert is what we'd best all be- creeping up like Vaingarth the Cunning upon the Mighty Drake, is how we ought be for this, aye? To settle with blades, words, or prayers- let us soon see which it shall be, and be done with it- ehh? Worry not about the future, my friends- worry about the present; such as, whose turn it be, presently, to row the boat."
 
Wulfgar griped the drumsticks tightly, alternating between looking at Shinta in concern, Baelin for reassurance and the pillar of light. He was worried, for the islands and was already running through strategies to allow the people to flee if necessary.


"Should Jotnar stay at the boat or come with us? He could be valuable in communing with the spirits but he won't fight if it comes to it and Shinta needs someone strong enough to row away quickly." He sighed to himself at the thought. "Not that she'd flee anyway."


Pushing aside his thoughts he went back to focus on drumming at a good pace.
 
Shinta was slightly infuriated by all that was going on. She had been ordered to prepare a feast for the Lográgæti, which completely came out of the blue, it felt forced and rushed, She knew it was not time for such a festival, but she did as she instructed to any way, regardless of the feeling in her gut.


Eventually it came time to accompany her husband as traditional to the shine and pray, that was before her prayer was interrupted by the most beautiful light she had ever seen, falling from the sky and landing a bit away from their location. The group wanted to go check it out, Baelin was originally against her going but she would be damned if something called the Kala would claim her husband from her, if they were all going to die, they would do it together, husband and wife.


She had been helping row and was lost in thought until Wulfgar interrupted them, he made a comment towards her inability to row away quickly if something happened. He called her weak. Rolling her eyes, she agreed with the last statement he made. It was true, she would never flee anyway.
 
The Skald at the forefront of the Boat, closes his eyes soon after he finishes speaking, and then chuckles softly. "Worry Not Lad.... Save perhaps about a swift smack to the face for insulting the woman, eh..? No- for us now is a Journey... I feel it in my bones..... This is the beginning of something, not an End. Of that, I have hope."


He doesn't really, know anything about this; but he knows that spreading hope and confidence is his duty, his purpose as a Skald. That to inspire the younger, and to spread lore and knowledge, is his purpose- and so he speaks his heart.


"Aye.... an Adventure, I think, lays soon before us. Ready yourselves, friends- we sail in to one of the Stories."


Even as his heart begins to race in his old chest- as he thinks. Will it be so? One last journey, one last adventure? Pray that it be so... one last time to learn a new story, 'fore my bones are too old to journey myself... let me feel it, racing through my blood and bones; the wild exaltation of battle... the ringing of steel, the merriment after the battle. Let my blood sing again.... ahh, but I am a Foolish Old Man.
 
The Elder Skald at the front spoke, his words intending to inspire courage and dissuade any thoughts of fear. The Jotnar liked the idea of this being an adventure, one of the many tales he had been taught and passed down to children. He was keen to add to the elder's thoughts.


"Aye... another story to tell to the young. I like that."


The Jotnar smiled, and looked up to the pillar of light in the distance. It shun so brightly, the waters surrounding the group lit with its presence, the sky above seemed to glitter, imitating the pillars beauty. He had heard nothing like this before. Perhaps this would make for a great story indeed. But until it started, the rowing proceeded to continue.
 
Beginnings, stories, and adventures? They sounded to be grand things coming from the Skald. The man always had a gift for making words come to life and gain their own weight. When thought of it in that way, something stirred within Björn's chest. A strong desire to leave behind the wilds of the mountain, and brave the peril of Brynnvatn's anger. To seek out the fallen star and see the unknown with his own eyes. Setting foot on the fallen piece of the firmament, such dreams mixed in his eyes that reflected mystery of wanderlust and the world ahead.


A small bump against his arms brought him from the trance. Bringing his attention back to the boat, Björn chided himself in his mind for letting his spirit get away from him. Taking his eyes to the oar, it was a small chunk of ice drifting into the path of the rowing. Not even the size of a fist, but it's presence was unusual. So far there had been no signs today of Brynnvatn's displeasure. The seas had been calm on their journey, and he had yet to notice signs of an approaching storm. How then could there be ice here on their path? Björn reached out his hand, scooping the errant chunk from the sea without missing time.


Straining his eyes, Björn searched the waters ahead near the ice. Here and there in the distance there were small specks of light glowing. Dancing and bobbing on the waves, they reflected the star's brilliance flowing out from the light pillar. Tiny jewels of the ocean turning the sea to sparkle, as if heaven and earth had become one in it's brilliance. A beautiful display that could steal away the heart with a glance.


Björn blinked away the after images dancing across his vision. There was beauty to be sure, but in beauty there was danger. How many wonders of the world did he see that summer when taken under the wild's tutelage? Countless, and as many had nearly taken him to Feigr in their beauty. Not in all his years had something like his befallen the world. Nor did it seem in that of even the long lived Vylkor Fenrir and Baelin. To occur when the tides of nature were at their most uncertain, this would perhaps be a new lesson on it's own. One not known to men or the age old memory of the mountain.


The feeling was invigorating, even as it redoubled his caution. Holding the fist up clearly, Björn angled it so that the ice caught the light enveloping the world as they drew closer with every stroke. As the light touched it, the ice changed into a jewel casting a myriad of colors across the vessel. Bringing it back down, Björn held it out for the boat's inspection.


"Ice in the water. Mind the oars."
 
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The surf picked up and the wind began to swirl around the pillar of light. The very air grew frigid as the boat approached the crash site. Visibility dropped drastically as an eerie mist filled the air. The mist clung to anything it touched, holding tight and attempting to freeze the surfaces. Frost began to appear on the boat, ice formed on the oars. The temperature dropped steadily until it began to feel cold as winter. Chunks of ice could be seen drifting through the water, some as large as a boulder. However as the pillar of light dissipated the crash site seem to materialize out of the mist and what looked like specks of light.


A icy crater floated in the ocean, shaped almost like an open claw, the center was close to ten feet below the water’s surface. Shards of ice protruded from the edges of the crater reaching for the sky in sharp and dangerous icicles. The entire crater was close to a few hundred feet across. Some areas were flat, others were a steady decline towards the center of the ice flow. Below the surface, the ice extended beyond sight.


The most peculiar aspect of the ice flow was a shard of ice which was easily ten feet tall and three wide hovered tall and strong in the center of the ice flow. It was close to half a foot off the surface of the ice. Even though the light around the crater faded, the shard remain to glow. From afar it was difficult to tell, however a dark spot could be seen within the shard, a shadow of some kind.
 
His fears confirmed, Björn did his utmost to save the oar even as it froze in his grip. Reaching into a satchel on his hip, he withdrew a small amount of animal fat. Slathering it around the grip and ringlet, it at least left parts of it useable. They could still row home if that proved what was required. Pulling up his bear great coat from around his waist, Björn stepped off the prow of the boat with bow in hand, helping to drag it ashore when the others disembarked. The mist gripped at his exposed face as he landed, and gnawed at the fat protecting his hands. Smearing it across his face, Björn passed the bag to the others hoping it might offer some protection from the bitter cold.


Scanning the isle of Claw's Light, there was nothing much uniform of it's make. As if some clumsy wood carving much was out of ice were dropped into the sea by an angry spirit. One spire stood out from the rest of the grey lights swirling around them. It was brilliant, unlike the impact site of the falling star. Strange that it should only be this large...were stars truly so tiny? Nocking an arrow to his bow, Björn gestured to draw attention to the great spike of light and darkness.


Lowering his center of gravity, Björn crouched as he slowly advanced across the ice scape. Sticking to the low spots, he moved trying to reduce how visible he was here. Raising a hand behind himself, he used the hunting signals to indicate the others should follow a few paces behind. Best that a scout went forward that the whole not be startled by sudden dangers if they lurked. For in truth this was such a place as if ripped straight from a story. Perhaps Vylkor Fenrir was not wholly skald but part prophet? More over, Björn was concerned for the rest. Not all had come with such a peculiar coat as he had, and some of them were well aged. Cold wore hardest on the elderly, even those of the mountain. It would be best if the burden could be lifted from them even slightly.


His eyes straining, the sight he relied on here availed him little in the mist from this distance. Moving ahead cautiously, Björn strained his senses to the utmost that nothing would find them all unawares.
 
The temperature was frigid to say the least, and the Jotnar came without his bear pelt. Who would have expected such icy temperatures to occur in mid-summer? Regardless, the Jotnar had the same idea as Bjorn, but with a more... natural remedy in mind. He unfastened the clasp on his leather pack, rummaging around for a particular, reddish jar. The jar crackled with frost as it was retrieved. Inside the jar was some red tree sap, which the Jotnar hastily applied to his cheeks and hands. He felt... a little less frozen. Just a little. He couldn't help he was forgetting something at that moment, but whatever it was, the thought would not reveal itself.


As the boat reached its destination, the Jotnar took the surroundings in. It was white. And blue. And cold. And misty. At least it was not too bad, there were no heavy winds bringing down the crater's chill upon everyone's skin with ferocious intent. The party left the boat in their own ways, it seemed Bjorn wanted to lead ahead, performing some hand gestures the giant did not know the meaning of. He wondered if anyone else knew of their meanings. As the Jotnar left the boat, his left foot planted onto the ice, the immense weight of the man shifting heavily onto the ice. Cracks formed, the distinct sharp crackling sound causing heads to turn, some with concern. But it seemed to stabilize after a moment.


"The ice, should be fine further in."


Perhaps if it was the Elder Skald in the same situation, he would conjure something more... meaningful and relieving. But the Jotnar wasn't so elequent. Taking a deep breath, he stabilized his footing and caught up with the rest of the group, each step with the same crack of ice, thankfully getting quieter. He took a look around, but nothing was of note. It was still white, blue, cold and misty. But the brown, vacant boat was behind them now, bobbing up and down, drifting slightly away.


"What of the boat? Have we no rope and spike to hold it fast?" asked the Jotnar.
 
The Skald's eyes are fixed ahead- as the Cold Worsens, and he pulls his many-furred costume about him, a grin fixes itself to his face. "Onwards to the Claw! I have the spike, and rope- moor the boat..! This hunk in the middle- it looks.. important! We should investigate! Aha!" As he begins the process, of hammering a spike in to the Ice, to which to tie a rope to moor the ship, as he looks up at the Floating Slab of ice, his eyes agleam with wonder.
 
Minutes of boding over Wulfgar's remarks toward Shinta went all to hell as the small boat came steadily toward the miniature iceberg floating in the water. For now, an angry glare thrown toward the young lad would have to suffice. Baelin glanced toward the others in the boat, as if for reassurance as well as making sure the others were okay. He steeled himself with a deep breath, nodding to himself. Well, they weren't lying. I almost wish they were, though. Following suit with the rest of the group, he lowered his center of mass toward the bottom of the boat as best as he can, attempting to keep the boat upright as it's battered by chunks of ice. Looking up over the edge, he peers toward the chunk of ice floating in the middle.


"... Is that something inside that ice? I can't tell."


The bemused scowl on his face deepens the closer they get. One thing after another. Hopefully this won't get any worse. "My only hope, I suppose, is that nothing worse happens to us, everyone. So remain alert. We can't have anyone getting injured out here. We need everyone alive and well if this is the Kala."
 
[QUOTE="Inquisitor Muhaha]Minutes of boding over Wulfgar's remarks toward Shinta went all to hell as the small boat came steadily toward the miniature iceberg floating in the water. For now, an angry glare thrown toward the young lad would have to suffice. Baelin glanced toward the others in the boat, as if for reassurance as well as making sure the others were okay. He steeled himself with a deep breath, nodding to himself. Well, they weren't lying. I almost wish they were, though. Following suit with the rest of the group, he lowered his center of mass toward the bottom of the boat as best as he can, attempting to keep the boat upright as it's battered by chunks of ice. Looking up over the edge, he peers toward the chunk of ice floating in the middle.
"... Is that something inside that ice? I can't tell."


The bemused scowl on his face deepens the closer they get. One thing after another. Hopefully this won't get any worse. "My only hope, I suppose, is that nothing worse happens to us, everyone. So remain alert. We can't have anyone getting injured out here. We need everyone alive and well if this is the Kala."

[/QUOTE]
Wulfgar could only palm his face for his stupidity in saying his thoughts on Shinta out loud when Baelin directed and angry glare at him.


"Of course now that you've said that master, the spirits will have heard and taken it as a challenge." Wulfgar says as he grips his smithing hammer tightly, scanning the environment.

Monsterous said:
Perhaps if it was the Elder Skald in the same situation, he would conjure something more... meaningful and relieving. But the Jotnar wasn't so elequent. Taking a deep breath, he stabilized his footing and caught up with the rest of the group, each step with the same crack of ice, thankfully getting quieter. He took a look around, but nothing was of note. It was still white, blue, cold and misty. But the brown, vacant boat was behind them now, bobbing up and down, drifting slightly away.


"What of the boat? Have we no rope and spike to hold it fast?" asked the Jotnar.
Click to expand...
As I had the rope and we had moored with I called out "I'll do it." whilst looking for a solid piece of land or some heavy ice to tether it to.
 
The Skald laughs, at Baelin's remark. "Old freind- must you ask? Of course there is something inside it! I don't know how- but let's find out, eh? Perhaps your hammer might break apart the ice? Or should we take a closer look first, eh?"
 
Baelin gripped his hammer firmly, in reaction to both seeing Wulfgar grab his, and the Skald mention it. "I'll keep that in mind, apprentice. Perhaps I'll pick my words more carefully next time." Now, directed toward the Skald: "Let's worry about getting closer before I try to smash it..." He grunted as the ship bumped against the ice, and hopped out with Wulfgar to start tying it down. Somewhere, a few feet onto the iceberg, he finds a short spike of ice and started lashing the rope to it, trying to loop it so that it's stuck beneath any outcroppings on the spike that would hold it in place. More or less, the attempt is to make sure it doesn't slip off or get cut on the sharp ice.
 
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The boat was quickly secured, but now talk of action passed the mouths and ears of everyone. Bjorn had his arrow notched into his bow, the two shorter men gripped hammers tightly. One even talked of smashing the beautiful crystal in the centre of the crater. The Jotnar exhaled a mist of frozen air with a slight shiver, frost gathering on his ragged beard. Were these men afraid? All the Jotnar could see was... a frozen, beautiful land, the mist clouding the true vastness of this newly formed isle. The giant started walking forward, each step crunching the snow into a flattened pile.


"I do not think this place is... a problem... I do not feel afraid."


He continued his pace past Bjorn, and walked towards the centre with the emanating crystal; keeping track of his direction. Whilst the place was a wonder, it would be preferable if they could make their way back to the boat.
 
The Skald nods, dismounting the boat- as he listens to his gut- to his soul, perhaps? "Aye... Aye Jotnar- methinks you have the right of it...." As he lands on the Ice, boots first. He dislodges his hook from the boat, and looks to the Crystal in the center. "I just want to find out more...... sorry story, if we don't find anythin' out 'fore headin away."
 
Five of you dismounted from your boat onto the icy islet. The entire thing was solid ice and to your surprise even when the summer's sunlight penetrated the mist, it provided little warmth or comfort.


@Inquisitor Muhaha - Baelin was a strong man and even though others had not fully dismounted from the ship, he was quickly able to anchor the boats to the island. Roping it around one of the convenient spikes that stood at the mouth of the iceburg, something caught his eye however. Inside the tiny spike that jetted itself out of the ground lied a glowing particle. It was crudely shaped but it definitely looked like some sort of stone, well a pebble to more exact. A pebble of some sort of building or carving, maybe marble. You weren't completely sure, as you never knew marble would glow in such a way.
 
Wulfgar rushes ahead of the others catching up to Jotnar, sparing a glance at Shinta and Baelin as he leaves. His fist gripping the hammer tightly he calls out, "Should we call for more warriors or should we get closer?"
 
@Runeblue - Wulfgar attempted to run towards the Jotnar, however as he tried to catch up to the scout and the giant a mist screen seem to materialize almost instantly in front of him. Both of his comrades, who had saw only a moment earlier vanished into the internment. Even his master and the Skald seem to disappear when he looked behind. The wind as well which has been steadily growing stronger suddenly became a great gust at his back and then his left side. The wind was strong but appeared to be somehow concentrated as the mist didn't seem affected.
 
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There's something in this. But what?


After tying off the boat, Baelin went in search of a nearby spike to the one before him. He found none, though, with a glowing rock inside. The only spike with the pebble was the one the ship was moored to. Confused, he went back to the original spike he had found. I should get this out of the ice. Maybe it's important. He raised his hammer high, as if to smash the spike with it. However, after a moment of contemplation, he lowered the hammer down. No use in shattering the mooring for the ship, and having it drift out to sea again. So instead, he pulled the rope tighter and dragged it across the ice. He set himself to re-mooring the ship onto a different spike in the harbor. Eventually, he returned to the ship after doing this. "Everyone, there's something inside this ice pillar, not just the giant one." He looked around, scowling. "Wait, where did they go? The Jötnar and Björn are missing. I couldn't see them even back on the iceberg."
 
The red jar clicked shut, as the Jotnar applied more paste onto himself. Frozen air exhaled from his mouth, the hair of his body starting to coalesce with frost. But aside from that, there was no real danger. It was just bitterly cold. The mist have grown thick, and he had heard no words of the others - and now he looked behind himself for the first time since passing Bjorn. He saw white. Nothing else.


"Bjorn!? Elder Skald!? Are you out there!?" shouted the Jotnar, his words masked by the winds cutting around the giant. His lips pursed, his nose flared out with frozen air. A large gust of air smacked his sides, and ended quickly. The Jotnar looked back at the crystal - now so close. It was so beautiful, so bright, so... strange. In a way, he felt compelled to move his feet forward, to come even closer. But what of the others? Were they lost? Were they helpless? As alluring as the crystal was, The Jotnar's companions were far more important that some compulsion of curiosity. He turned around once more, and began walking back the way he came. Years of navigating the wilderness of the mountainsides taught him how to properly navigate backwards - but even so, the ground seemed to erase his footprints as he walked off. His direction was good, or so he thought, and retreated to find the others.


"If you can hear me, shout!"
 
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