Fantasy Hymn of the Shroud: What a Horrible Night to Have a Curse

[Kayso]

Hymn of the Shroud​

It has been a mere 90 days since news of the first attack spread. They have only grown since then, more numerous and in nearly every town east of Midfell. They say that something strange takes over the people, and that neighbor attacks neighbor, brothers turn on one another, and even the royal families are not spared, for the High Baron’s wife has been acting odd. With this seeming unrest, the other barons suspect that Vorak, the Baron of Svartre is somehow to blame, as they all know that the young and impressionable baron feels slighted and is unhappy with his lands and position, and they have no other explanation for what is happening. They have attempted to make communication with Vorak, but they are all turned away. Tensions are high and mysterious attacks are frequent, for people feel that they can no longer trust their neighbors or even their family members. Some of the other kingdoms are considering intervention, but there are plenty of individuals who have taken it upon themselves to figure out what is happening before war sweeps the country. A few have come back with tales of eerie encounters and similar situations with the people of Svartre...
but most have not come back at all.
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The setting is Rosheim (Ros-heim), similar to medieval Scandinavia, 14th century. Humans are the most populous race, but there are plenty of dwarves, elves, and huldre, as well as monsters such as werewolves, werebears, witches, sea serpents and ghosts with which the players may come in contact.

Serious writers only please, who are willing to dish out at least 1-2 paragraphs per post, as well as possible collaborative posts in situations where it will make scene-writing easier. This is a detailed RP, with lots of creative potential in a unique setting!
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Other Links
Hymn of the Shroud OOC
Hymn of the Shroud Character Sheets
Hymn of the Shroud Lore

 

[Kayso]

Check the Lore Thread for history, locations, and the people of Rosheim:

Hymn of the Shroud Lore

 

[Kayso]

SVARTRE
Vorak, The Young Baron of Svartre

Spoiler: Vorak

​

Vorak's Theme

Spoiler: vorak's theme

The wind was cold, as it always was, but the recent months had been growing colder and darker it seemed. Deathly quiet, too. Now that he thought about it - actually and truly considered the cause - the explanation was simple: everyone was dead.

No, not everyone, but so many people. Svartre was doomed from the start, and even if his father had actually tried to do something about it, he would have failed. The earth here is just too cold, the air too harsh, the mountains too unforgiving. He had to give considerable credit to the people who had lived here so long - they were sturdier than most and their will was enviable. But in the end, it couldn’t save them.

Vorak continued reminiscing about his late father, Tielgun, as he shrugged on a warmer fur-lined cloak and sat at the desk in his study, listening to the howling of the constant wind.

Had he just accepted Barstein’s help-anyone’s help-they may have made it a little longer.

His people had suffered a massive famine and lack of resources a mere six months ago, and Tielgun had refused help from any of the other kingdoms. “I will build this land up from the snow-crusted filth that it is into the most powerful kingdom in Roseheim, and I will show them how little I need of them!” his father had said upon their arrival at Svartre. Vorak’s memory filled with both pride and loathing at his father, for it was a noble thought, but a deadly one, for nearly half the kingdom had perished from the famine, which led to sickness, which led to fewer people to work and keep their houses fed and warm, until so many of them reached the same end: death. This was why the kingdom grew dark, for less firelight glowed from windowpanes. And the quiet - well, that one’s obvious.

Vorak sat up straighter and began to write yet another letter that he assumed would be delivered but not answered. He didn’t know why Barstein refused to write back to him now, when before the famine letters arrived more than once weekly, asking his father to let him send supplies. But now, as Vorak attempted to alleviate the sufferings of his people as much as possible, his letters remained strangely solitary, the voices of the outside kingdoms as silent as his forlorn land.

Perhaps I will have to leave my home and make a personal appearance after all. He thought.

His thoughts always returned to this possibility, though it was not a desirable one. He didn’t think it wise to leave his kingdom so unattended in their time of need, and his mother and little sister would hardly be well on their own. Perhaps he could send for someone in one of the villages to make the journey. Perhaps he simply needed to examine his couriers more dutifully. Whatever the case, he knew he needed to find out why all of his recent communication attempts continued to provide him with nothing but a dreadful, hollow stillness.

 

[Rui]

Shireen

"Pardon me, my lord." ​

A quiet voice came from the open doorway where a petite woman stood. Her bright eyes were tired, clouded with exhaustion and a deep sadness, emanating from their blue depths that seemed to lead into her soul. She was beautiful and sad, her dress smudged with soot and dirt.

"I have come to deliver your midday meal."

She entered quickly from the door, baring the tray in her small, pale hands, ash and dirt dusting her ghostly skin. She said no more, having never interacted with the young Baron before. She had seen him once or twice in passing, but always sulking beside his short tempered father. Now he was gone, as was most of the Kingdom.

Her mother had fallen ill in the past fortnight. Some sort of fever had overtaken her. Her poor father was beside himself. Shireen was as well, but she knew for his sake, she must continue to work. There wasn't much hope for her mother; most of the doctors had perished. The kitchens were lacking sufficient staff, some of the maids and cooks fleeing to another kingdom, most found frozen to death come morning light, but most died from illness or starvation.
She placed the tray of food down before the Baron, curtsying briefly before turning to leave.

There was hardly anything left to eat. She'd considered taking some of the contents of his plate; just enough to bring home for her father while he sat beside her mother's sick bed. Her honesty prevented it. It was unfair that he could eat from the stores of meat, wine, bread, hot soup, and a hunk of fine cheese they'd found in their winter stores, and those who prepared and searched for that food should chew on tough pieces of venison, if it could be found, equivalent to nibbling shoe leather. She didn't say anything though. The kingdom was falling, what would be one maid hung in the cold? No one would bat an eye.

"Enjoy your meal, my lord." she bid as she looked back at him from the frame of the door.

Spoiler: Theme

Kayso

 

[Kayso]

Halvøst
Mikhel Rask, Healer

Spoiler: Mikhel

Laer, Healer's Apprentice

Spoiler: Laer

Mikhel sighed as he worked his way down the spiraling stone steps leading into the depths of the castle, listening only to the sound of his footsteps and Laer’s heavy breathing behind him. They had been summoned to the Baroness’ quarters nearly a full hour ago, roused from their already-thin dreaming by the current watch, to be notified of yet another attack. News such as this was not infrequent, and the people of Halvøst were terrified. A farmer had called guards over when he heard disturbances coming from his neighbor’s home, too afraid to check on him himself, and for good reason. The home was immediately investigated only to reveal the deceased body of the farmer’s neighbor.

The guards had been instructed to bring him to a holding cell beneath the castle at Innsjøst in order to study his condition and see if they could learn anything about the sickness. He was to be inspected in an attempt to determine the cause of such a condition, in case it was the sickness, now come to be known as 'stille forsvinn'. To this end was Mikhel making his way below ground yet again, his apprentice at his heels.

“I trust you have prepared accordingly?” He asked Laer, the intelligent but hasty youth as they reached the bottom landing.

“Of course I have.” Laer replied, minor distaste evident in his speech. He had been rather short with Mikhel lately, which was a little uncharacteristic of him, but they had many late nights these days, and he was probably just as tired as he was.

“Good. We will proceed as usual with the procedure.”

Upon reaching the door directed to him by the guards, Mikhel and Laer soon found themselves standing before a small cell, very faintly lit by the torches that lined the walls of the main hallways. This was not a prison per say, but a sort of “in between” when holding was necessary for petty crimes and common skirmishes. Proper lighting wasn't as necessary here, so the oil was saved.

The guards opened the door and the two healers stepped inside, the door remaining open with the guard standing right outside. Mikhel began to examine the man that lay on a low, flat platform, still slightly warm from his initial collection.

“Laer, the anise and the calamus, please.” The young man handed a small pouch to the elder, untying the leather cords as he did so. Mikhel applied the powders to various parts of the man’s forehead and neck. “The knife please, and the dish.” Laer quickly handed these tools to him in silence, and the healer began to sample the patient’s blood and skin. Finally, he passed the tools back to Laer and rubbed his temples. They would need to wait before they could receive any results, but there was still work to do. He washed in a basin and rubbed his eyes, preparing for another long night.

“Sir Mikhel, my master.” Laer quietly broke the silence. “You have been worked through the night too many a time. Why don’t you go back to your bed and I’ll finish up here. I have run the tests with you enough to know the motions by heart. It will be nothing to me.”

“Laer, I thank you for your kindness, but you have been working by my side nearly every minute, so you are just as tired. I can stay-”

“Go.” Laer interrupted. “I am younger, and not half so tired as you; I promise. It will be well.”

Mikhel rubbed his eyes one final time before muttering, “All right then.” He stood slowly, considering whether or not he should really allow his apprentice to work in such a delicate situation alone. He was capable though, and did indeed know all the motions. “Send someone for me if I am needed.” he concluded, lifting a heavy hand to Laer’s shoulder, a height slightly above his own. It felt sinewy and slight under his fingers, and Mikhel thanked him and made his way back to the stairs. As he dragged his feet upward, yawning, he thanked the gods for having an apprentice still. Laer had gone missing a couple weeks ago, and as they searched, all were worried that perhaps he had become a victim of the next attack. When they found him shortly after, he was a bit disheveled, but otherwise healthy. He said he had been cornered by a wolf, a confrontation that was verified by numerous scratches and a few gashes on his shoulder, but expressed that he would soon recover. And he did. Mikhel thanked the gods again, for he needed all the help he could get.

 

[Ignie]

HalvøstBaroness' castle
​

"Am i even supposed to be authorized to be here?" Thrynn thought as he walked in the castle. But he needed answers, as he was especially concerned by the recent attacks.

Just thinking about this made Thrynn's brown eyes water, but he wipped the tears quickly. No, he had to be strong, for his mother.

As soon as he recieved the letter, the young man rushed to his home leaving his old teacher, Master Elren. At first, he thought it was just a dream, that it was not possible. But as he reache Innjølst, reality hit him hardly. His father has gone crazy, and even attacked another fisherman before being taken down. Unfortunatly, he didn't survive, and died soon after. Guilt twisted Thrynn's stomach. Maybe if he had been here... he could have protected his father, he could have survived, he could have been here, and his mother won't be alone in their small house, crying over the loss of his loved one. He should have been here sooner for her, to help her. The half elf felt so useless it made him angry, so angry. His father was a kind man, generous, and good. Why it had to be him? It was so unfair...

He shivered, even though his fur armor was made to keep him warm. He knew that thinking about his death was wrong, that was destroying him. But he didn't care. All Thrynn wanted no, was to find the one responsible from those attacks, and make him pay. Then, only after that, he could find some peace.

Lost in thought, he hadn't noticed that he walked in a man coming in his direction. Thrynn quickly stepped back, his cheeks blushing in embarassement, trying to come up with an excuse on why he was here.

"I-I apologize, sir, i didn't wanted to..." the half elf began before stopping and looking at the man before him. Given on his clothes and looks, Thrynn quickly deduced he was a druid, or at least a healer. A healer! That's it! The answer to his questions!

"Sir!" He said quickly, "Do you have any news about the attacks? Is there a cure, is it natural, or is someone responsible of it? I... i beg you, i need to know." The boy finished, in a begging tone. He didn't care if he was kicked out of the castle, he needed answers.

 

[Katsuya]

-Rahulik Lukk-
-Baroness' castle, Halvøst-​

"That's it, men."

Rahulik chirped cheerfully, grinning at her co-workers who carried the heavy supplies into the castle. The order was made by the Baroness of Halvøst as she needed to restock herbs, weapons, and other items that were enchanted. Most of them were for healing which made the blonde wonder if the attacks were happening here as well...She hoped not.

She didn't want anyone else to experience what she went through with her mother who died during those attacks months ago. Unfortunately she knows it's still happening around the kingdoms as she traveled with her boss, his wife, and co-workers.

"Great job! I'll be sure to let the boss know of your work. You guys will get your pat tomorrow in the morn." With that, the burly men walked off, mumbling about a random conversation that she didn't pay enough attention to; she wanted to make sure she has everything here as the Baroness has ordered. Opening the wooden crates, she counted each item personally before putting the lid back on and opening another one to do the same. Her fur hooded cloak kept her warm, along with her teal green tunic and puffy dark pants that are tucked in fox fur boots. Her golden blonde hair is tied up in a braided crown behind her head while the loose fringes are tucked behind her ear.

Once she was finished, the blonde merchant sighed happily and walked out of the large supply storage room only to hear a man talking nearby. Hoping that a fight won't happen in the Baroness' castle, Rahulik turned to the corner and blinked as she watched a man pleading to a healer about the attacks. Was there one recently here?

She frowned, brows furrowed as she was about to turn away and leave the pair of men alone. It isn't any of her business. She shouldn't be here since she is done with her part of work.

Kayso Ignie

 

[Epiphany]

SVARTRE
Ake Gunhildsdotter

Ake's Theme

Spoiler: Ake's theme

The wind should be cold but it made little difference now.

Ake trudged through the snow, shrouded in furs taken from the dead. She hadn't had them for most of the trip. Months ago, the former housewife had lost her home, her family and very likely her life against one of the deadly, elusive Gjenganger, a creature more myth than material. Afraid of what she might be, Ake had fled her home village of Troms outside of Valkys. Her aimless wandering had taken her over much of Midfell before a chance conversation overheard spoke of strange attacks, of men turning against men, and suggested Svartre might have a cure. They'd had their share of people vanish and reappear but nothing recent in nearly two months. Could there be a connection?

That was a full month ago. Ake was not a seasoned traveller, didn't know the southern trade route that wound its way south of Valkys, cut across Sorygge and into Halvost before winding its way upriver into the heart of the isolated mountain nation. She simply knew Svartre lay east.

So she'd gone east. Through wild forests, steep hills, along ravines winding their way between mountains. There'd been no food after a week but Ake hadn't much minded the lack. Her boots split by the second week but her bare feet weren't much bothered by the snow and broken blocks of stone. And she'd been noticed, seen, watched. Known by evil she couldn't see. And the evil overlooked her.

Perhaps because the evil knew its own.

Two days ago, she'd dropped clumsily down short drops between cliffs to reach the snow-buried forested floor of the Svartre valley. Only yesterday, she'd come across a cottage ripe with death, its family felled by something. Hunger most likely, judging by the gaunt faces of the husband and wife and the bitterness that lingered in their countenances as they held a perished two year old in their arms. Ake's heart had grown cold during her long journey but some forgotten part of it thawed at the sight. Burying their bodies was impossible in this frozen ground but a funeral pyre, certainly. And if the Gods wouldn't hear the prayers of the monster she'd likely become, perhaps they'd still take this family's souls to where they rightfully belonged.

Ake left then, wrapped in the wife's travel furs over the faded tunic and skirts she'd worn in life from Midfell, new boots once more wrapping feet that didn't need them. And now she'd come to Greymirk. The frozen city bore the weight of night heavily, as if it were a burden grown too great for this land's capital now. As she passed along the southern trade road just discovered hours ago, up to its city gates, Ake didn't notice how few lights warmed the houses inside now.

Instead, she felt the first stirrings of life she'd encountered in a month. It was a sweet, hot taste on the back of her tongue. Like the way fresh, just-baked bread broke open and its aroma filled the nostrils so splendidly one could almost feel its good virtue in the back of the throat. Ake shuddered once but carried on towards the gates, having steeled herself for the experience after discovering how overwhelming the press of life in Valkys had been.

Here it was...less. Much less. Was Greymirk so much smaller? Or had the curse done more wicked work than she'd imagined?

The former housewife and current...whatever she was took a deep breath and prepared for whatever it might take to gain entry into the one place that might hold answers for her.

 

[Kayso]

SHIREEN & VORAK
Svartre, Castle Greymirk​

As Vorak contemplated his duties and grew more and more angry at his difficult situation, he barely noticed a young woman enter his study and place a wooden tray of simple foods at a small table abutting his desk. She barely made a sound, and her greeting was so quiet it couldn’t interrupt his clamorous thoughts. It was only as she reached the door that he realized this was not the same person that usually delivered his food each day. Perhaps she had also died.

If this is going to continue, then I won’t stand a chance myself.

As she turned to leave through the doorway, he called to her.

“Miss, come back!” he nearly barked, his voice tinged with something sounding vaguely of impatience. “The woman who prepares the food - where is she?”
------------
Shireen stopped a step from being beyond the door, a step from being beyond his grasp.

She turned, slowly, her eyes meeting his in all their open, uninhibited sadness.

"She's ill, my lord." She murmured, her eyes staying upon his for a moment before dropping to her simple shoes. She paused for a moment, timidly clasping her hands together, rocking on her heels under the weight of his stare. Her voice came a soft mumble, as if afraid to admit these words to the air.

"I doubt she will return."

She was quiet after that, stepping into the doorway a little further before speaking again.

"I will send for another maid to deliver your food if I have displeased you."
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“No, that’s not what I meant.” He sighed. “I just wanted to know… how much trouble we are in.” He glanced down at his letter, exasperation and frustration overtaking him finally as he re-read his inked pleas, all of which had been the same - all of which had been disregarded. In a swift and sudden movement, he had jumped up and thrust the letter into the fireplace, watching it burn for a moment as he leaned into the mantle, then let out a loud growl as he pounded his fist against the wall.

“I don’t know what to DO!” he yelled at the fire, furious. “I have been asking for months and we have received no help! The people of this kingdom die more each week and soon there will be nothing! My father left me a mess and I’m making it worse each day as I sit here without direction. You.” he suddenly said, turning to the girl at his door. “I do not know how to save any of you. You are all doomed. I am sorry.” He slumped back to his desk, hiding his face in his hands. “You and your family should probably try to get out while you still can.”
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A soft hand held his shoulder.
"My lord, if I may say, you haven't failed us yet. You're trying, that's better than...those before you."

She rubbed gentle circles over his back, trying her best to be comforting.

"Are you sure they're being delivered, your grace?" She asked, tentatively removing her hand. She'd finally recognized she had been essentially petting the Baron. She folded her hands in front of her nervously again, then glanced up at him through her dark lashes, eyes glimmering blue like the icy waves.

"My apologies. That was...I'm sorry..."
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Vorak listened to the young woman’s question and it was almost as if it were a sign - all the sign he needed, at least, to jump-start his mind and give him direction. He knew what he was going to do now, and it wasn't going to matter if it was right or wrong, for the fate of his people was already sealed for the worse, no matter what he did.

Disregarding her apologies with a wave of his hand, he stood from his chair and threw off his cloak. Walking over to a deeply colored oak armoire, he donned a livelier coat, more appropriate for social interactions, but not without its warmth and comfort. Sliding it over his shoulders, he stepped over to the desk once again, gathering the dinner tray with its contents still warm, and proceeded to walk out the door, obviously set in his mind on a course of action. At the last moment, a few steps out the doorway, he stopped on his heels and backtracked to his study. He turned to the young maid, having recalled a question he needed to ask her.

“Miss, do you know if dinner has yet been served to my mother and sister? If not, I would like to request that you accompany me with an extra tray of food, so that we may deliver it to them together.”
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Shireen was stunned into silence for a moment.

"N-no, my lord. I was just on my way to serve them." She curtseyed then, auburn curls bouncing as she gracefully dipped down her head.

"My name is Shireen, my lord, and I would be most honored to accompany you."

She wasn't entirely sure what else to say, and was utterly confused.

She pushed that aside, however, rising from her curtesy to hurry to the cart she had been pushing which held the two covered platters for the Baroness and the little Lady.
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Vorak stepped lightly and confidently as he made his way through the dimly-lit halls and darkened corners of castle Greymirk. What a terrible name. He thought. But it is so very fitting. He hardly saw anyone as he passed room after room, corridor after gloomy corridor. Most had vanished - evacuated or died in the attempt, assumedly. It made him sick to the stomach to know that even those who dwelt within his own walls were so desperate for escape. The girl who followed him - he wondered why she hadn’t left yet. Nowhere else to go, I suppose.

Turning a corner, they came to a great wooden door stained dark and inlaid with bronze rivets and hinges, the silver emblem of a snow-hare upon the knocker. He did not wait to be accepted, but deftly opened the door himself and entered without hesitation. The sitting room was dull and shadowy, as was most of the castle, and the young baron searched about for a moment or two, searching for something that was hidden by the lack of light. The room was cold, not befitting a slight and middle aged woman, so Vorak set the tray down on a dainty table and began to place the scant scraps of wood and coal from their dusty pail into the ashen fireplace.

“Mother!” Vorak called into the stillness as he struck the flint and steel in an attempt to rekindle the fire. “I’ve brought you supper, and wish to discuss something with you. It is a matter of great importance.” The kindling lit and the flame began to spread, slowly consuming the straw and twigs, then latching on to the larger branches and split logs: all-consuming. Relentless. As fire always is. Light began to seep into the blackness, not quite reaching the far corners, but allowing enough vision to reveal the details of the elegant yet strangely unkempt room. As the light brightened, Vorak noticed a flutter of movement in the corner, a barely audible gasp accompanying the crackle of flame. Vorak searched for the source.

At first he merely recognized his mother. He moved toward the seated figure; she must have been there the entire time for he had not sensed movement until he lit the fire. “Ah, there you are. Why did you not answer when-” he broke off as his foot caught something on the floor. It seemed familiar, like he immediately knew what it was, even though he had never performed this action once in his entire life. He slowly turned his head downward until his eyes fell upon the pale, blood-stained locks of a young woman, her face turned away from him. He didn’t need to see the face to know who it belonged to.

“Mother… mother, what has happened?” Vorak stammered, falling to the floor beside his sister’s body as he checked for any signs of life, disbelief pricking his throat like ice, filling his heart with the frigid pang of fear. The figure seated ahead of him stirred, eyes seeming to attempt to adjust to the light. In a movement that almost seemed painful, the woman’s head turned toward him, their eyes meeting for the first time. Vorak stared, half recognizing the soft features that now possessed an edge of death. It spoke then, with no little effort. It was something like his mother’s, but then, not wholly so.

“Boy, she merely sleeps.”

Spoiler: The Queen's Theme

Spoiler: The Queen Mother of Svartre

Vorak stood, backing up as quickly as he could toward the door. “What have you done?” He cried out in horror. “You are not-” he stuttered. “Is this what-”

His mother rose from her cushioned, bloodstained chair, her hips and shoulders jerking in an unnatural fashion that made her seem doll-like, tied at the wrists and ankles with string, clumsily guided in her movements. Taking a few steps toward him, she seemed to gain her balance and more smoothly glided over the body at her feet. As Vorak watched, she almost looked more human, more alive than she had only moments ago, but as she spoke again, it was clear that something was irrevocably wrong.

“Do not fear me.” she smiled.

 

[Kayso]

THRYNN & MIKHEL
Innsjøst Castle​

As Mikhel meandered back to his sleeping quarters he thought on what he had learned about the attacking sickness, the voldvil, so far: it did not appear to spread by scratch or bite, as it was with the cursed werecreatures; the attackers often showed no visible symptoms before preying on others, and indeed, most attackers were never even seen; most who were attacked died 2-5 days later, and the few who lived disappeared within the week; from the attackers they were able to capture, they noted loose skin, slowed blood flow, dilated eyes, thinning hair, violent episodes, and forgetfulness, often related to important events or people in their lives. There were four being held below the castle: the only ones definitively known within Innsjost to actually be afflicted with the sickness. Everyone else was merely a victim.

As Mikhel continued to ponder these things, deep in thought, he failed to notice the sound of approaching footsteps as he turned a corner and collided with a half-elf he had never even before. After apologizing and making his way to excuse himself, the elf began to barrage him with questions-questions about the voldvil.

Mikhel blinked and shook his head in confusion as the elf continued. "Excuse me, but... who are you?" He asked as the questioning subsided.
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Thrynn stopped after all his jabber and took a deep breath, still looking at the man before him.

"Ah..." He said between two breathes, "I apologize, dear sir... I was..." He said confusedly, "My... My name is Thrynn. I am a fisher man from Halvøst, and a water mage in training." The half elf bowed sightly as he spoke. "I must apologize again for my behavior, but i will say the truth, sir, but my mind is filled with mixed feeling of sadness, sorrow and curiosity. My father was unfortunately one of the victim of the recent attacks that happened all around the Kingdom and i..." He breathed again, and continued, "I want to know what happened to him exactly. You... You are a healer, right? So, you can help me, please?" Thrynn pleaded. No need to tell the man before him the truth, it would only make the actual situation worse.
------------
Mikhel sighed and rubbed his forehead, an action that was quickly becoming a habit.

I'm never going to get to bed tonight. He thought to himself.

"I'm sorry, um, Thrynn, it was? As I am under the baroness' employ, I am not authorized to divulge to the public the, uh... the circumstances which..."

Mikhel felt a pang of sympathy for the youth before him: his haggard appearance suggested he had traveled in haste and without rest, his bright eyes overtaken by a heavy sadness, his shoulders with a heavy burden. He deserved answers, as much as any of them, for his own father was affected. He could spare a few moments to perhaps provide him with some kind of closure.

"The victims..." he began, "do not live long after the attack." He sighed, not knowing how his explanation would be received. Honesty was always a noble policy, however, and Mikhel continued. "They begin with convulsions and fevers, and deliriousness. Usually the victims are not conscious for most of it. There is some solace in that knowledge. Then, after a few days, the skin turns dark and life simply leaves them behind. We bury them quickly... just to be safe."

Mikhel watched the young elf carefully, wary of any possible reaction. "I am truly sorry for the tragedy that has befallen your family. I would ask you to trust in me, to know that I am doing everything in my power to shed light on the situation."
------------
Thrynn's shoulders began to lower, as the healer spoke. So he'll never know what has happened to his father. However, the man stopped and after a few seconds, spoke again, giving Thrynn informations that he wasn't supposed to know. The half elf listened to him with good attention, the same way he did when he learned under Master Elren's wings. The informations were useful, for sure, but Thrynn also pictured his father having those symptoms and truth to be told, it was hard for the boy. The healer was right on a point, as soon as he died, his father was buried, and so, Thrynn never got the chance to see his body one last time. But if the skin turned dark... then maybe it was better that the elf kept a good old memory of his father.

"W-Was my father... uh. I mean... does the victims suffer from this? W-When they get this... this sort of "sickness", there is no way to save them? H-Have you any ideas from where it comes from?" Thrynn insisted. He was probably annoying the man for sure, but his thirst for answers was too strong.
------------
“No.” Mikhel answered, with a shake of his head. “In fact, the answer is ‘no’ to all of your questions. They do not suffer. At least not much. As I said, they are mostly unconscious for the duration of their inflictions, though it is not a pleasant sort of sleep, either, I would say. And… no. We have not been successful in saving any lives up to this point. It is a most unfortunate thing. So far as I have been able to determine, it has come from nowhere. Perhaps only the gods will ever know. Or perhaps they are the ones who-”

Mikhel noticed a fair face appear around a distant corner and vanish again, as quickly as it had materialized. The guards must all be with the baroness this night.

“Who’s there?” he called out.

 

[Katsuya]

-Rahulik Lukk-
-Baroness' castle, Halvøst-​

"Eep!" Is what the men can hear from around the distant corner before a crash of wooden items created a large dust cloud. Followed by a coughing fit.

Then they heard a feminine groan as a thin gloved hand reached out to the corner of the walls and behold....A blonde beauty with a piece of wood stuck in her mess of a braided crown hair and a small frown. Patches of ashes and dust covered her face and clothes from jumping in surprise and tripping over the wooden planks. There was an old lamp there too and it's ashes landed on her, evidently from the dark grey on her golden hair and teal green tunic. Her azure blue eyes spoke so loudly of her displeasure from being covered with ash.

She coughed, embarrassed from what just happened as her face heated up in red. "Good evening sirs-!" She coughed again before waving her hand at them.

"Sorry for the eavesdropping. I wanted to leave before hearing anything else as it wasn't my business." Rahulik said, trying to be reasonable.

Kayso Ignie

 

[Ignie]

Halvøst
Baroness' castle
Thyrnn​

When Thyrnn heard the man before him stopping to talk about the mysterious attacks(he didn't even asked for his name, what an impolite impression he should have made, the boy thought to himself) and calling someone, the boy turned around to follow his eyes and... heard a big noise, created by wooden things falling in the ground, followed by a young woman's yell.

The half elf jumped in surprise, as he watched dust going up in the air, and covering the source of the noise. Thrynn squinted to see that in the middle of all this mess was a young, blonde woman with bright blue eyes, the expression on her face clearly showing she didn't want to be there at this precise moment.

The half elf almost immediatly rushed to help her, as she spoke. The blonde boy took the woman's hand to help her getting up.

"T-That's fine, Ma'am," Thrynn answered, as his cheeks became colored with a pale pink color. It wasn't a pleasure to know he was being observed, but he felt ashamed that someone else than the healer saw him in this state, so vulnerable and weak.

"Are you okay?" He continued, "Let me help you. What is your name?" He finished in a soft voice, making sure the woman wasn't hurt. He wasn't mad at her for eavesdropping, as he probably would have done the same if he was her, so what right has he to criticize her?
Katsuya Kayso

 

[Katsuya]

-Rahulik Lukk-
-Baroness' castle, Halvøst-​

"T-Thank you." Blinking, she grabbed onto the hand that was offered to her and pulled herself up with his help. The blonde didn't expect the crying man from before to help her or be this nice and considerate. She gave him a small grin and a slow nod. "Yes, I'm okay...I'm used to falling from something." Like the branches that gave way from under her and the tree roots that trips her while running long time ago.

"My name? My name is Rahulik Lukk, I'm ...I'm here to drop off an order from the Baroness." The blonde druid looked over at the healer with a grave face, finally realizing why the Baroness needed this much healing supplies. "Your healing items are here, Sir...I made sure everything you need is there."

Then she looked back at the man in front of her and grinned again, empathetic to his plight. "...What are your names, sirs?" A familiar crowing can be heard, echoing in the hallways and Rahulik turned her head to the sound; however she stayed to listen to the men in front of her patiently. A pair of fluttering wings came closer to her and a pair of familiar talons landed on her head and shoulder.

Memory and Thought, a pair of ravens, crowed together. Thought stared at the man who's too close with, what seems like, a bored look while Memory trilled in greeting, puffing her feathers and rubbing Rahulik's cheek. Then the blonde realized that she was holding the man's hand for too long. "Oh!" She lets go, blushing red again. "I-I'm sorry. Heh...heheh..."

Ignie Kayso

 

[Ignie]

Thrynn smiled softly at the woman before him as she gave him her name.

"My name is Thyrnn, Ma'am. I am a young water mage, and i'm planning on becoming a fisherman here, in Halvøst. I am still in training, but for personnal reasons, reasons i think you know now, i had to come back here as soon as possible." He said as he looked at all the healing items behind the girl. That was a lot of stuff and Thrynn hoped that it could help to prevent future attacks, and deaths.

All of a sudden, two crowing could be heard, and Thrynn saw two ravens flying and landing on Rahulik's shoulders. The boy blinked, surprised to see such animals being here, and more, they looked like pets.

Lost in thought, the boy realisez both of them were still holding hands when the girl let him go, and blushed. He looked at his hands, then at the girl, and answered her by a soft smile.

"I don't mind." he smiled, his cheeks becoming pink, "I am always glad to help those in need."

He turned to Mikhel, his smile slowly disappearing.

"Sir... Can i stay here, and help? I'll... I'll do anything to help i swear." It was partly a lie. Yes, of course, he was kind and generous, and Thrynn always wanted to help his friends and acquaintances. But if he managed to discover more about the attacks, so he will know what have happened to his father.

 

[Stickdom]

IksanderHalvost Council Chamber, Innsjost Palace
The smoke from his pipe wafted sweetly up his nostrils and calmed the raging spirit he kept hidden under his stoic visage. The members of the court gathered around this table raised his temper far more quickly than any creature of the night could, with their simpering pleas and wheedling complaints to their liege-mistress. Lady Vanndra sat at the head of the table looking as serenely calm and bone-chillingly beautiful as she ever had been. She seemed to strike a mixture of both gentle grace and looming fear in the same glance, and Iksander, having watched her grow from a quiet child in his care into his unquestionable leader, knew that she was as ill-pleased with her stewards as her suffering citizens were. But he held his tongue, his place was not to command, only to obey. He would defend her if the need arose, any of these pitiful lordlings that raised their voices at her would meet his scorn as her shield, but for now he sat quietly and stewed in his own smoky perfume.

The business at hand was regarding the recent attacks on the surrounding lands. Several villagers had lost their senses, driven mad by some fell disease that made them a danger to friend and family alike. But Halvost was lucky, the outbreaks had been few and contained, while some of the other provinces had not fared so well. Iksander partially credited himself for the security in these troubled times, himself and the Helvete Vrede he had founded. Named for an ancient dwarven deity of wrath and fire, the Vrede were the peacekeepers, the wardens, the protectors of the lands. They were Halvost's finest rangers and hunstmen conscripted to patrol the dark roadways and treacherous borders between the villages and eliminate any threat of monsters and brigands alike, sanctioned bounty hunters and vigilante warriors all. Many came from seedy backgrounds at the chance for a pardon of their past deeds, but only the strongest and most loyal to Lady Vanndra were selected for the honour among their secretive ranks. How Iksander longed to be out among the trees and trails again, his blood boiled and his mouth felt dry at the thought of being on the hunt again rather than being forced to pander to milksop politicians and fear-mongering mayors.

The embers in the bowl of his pipe flared a dull red as he blew through the stem, the smoke creating a hovering cloud that loomed over his brow. A glance of his eye and a whisper on his tongue sent it snaking down to the floor and around the legs of his short chair at Vanndra's side. The power of ash-speech was not often used for such trivial parlour tricks, but it amused him and distracted from the droll meeting that was occurring around him. The fire in his pipe echoed the fire in his heart, calling to him, begging to be let free and to burn the air and eat the wood and melt their bones, but he contained the calling of the primal fires and contented himself with feeling the beloved heat rising up to kiss his cheeks as he blew into his pipe once more.

Kayso

 

[Rui]

Shireen
The maid stood behind the Baron, pale hands shaking where they held the dinner tray. She shook so fiercely it dropped from her hands, toppling onto the floor with an echoing clang. Her breath left her lungs in a gasp, and her voice became a scream she hardly recognized as her own.
"My lord, RUN!"
She grasped his wrist, spinning him around rapidly as the former Queen Mother rose. Her hand reached the door, wrenching it open with a strength she didn't know she possessed, slamming the great door behind her and bolting it from the outside. The silver knocker swung back and forth like a pendulum from the force exerted on the door.
"We must keep the door shut," Shireen panted, leaning against the nearest wall, out of breath and high on adrenaline, "or she will escape and surely harm us." She grimaced, looking back towards the door, "perhaps there is some kind of cure...mayhaps in another kingdom?"
She had seen the affliction before in the village...it was something darker than disease. From hell itself, perhaps.
She knew it couldn't be fixed, but giving him hope was all she could do to console him.
Kayso​

 

[Kayso]

BARONESS VANNDRA
Innsjost Castle​

“So taxes will be low - very low. And it’s not just because there are fewer people due to the deaths and disappearances. Families are losing their main workers, so they cannot earn.”

“And even if they could, they’re too afraid to leave their houses without necessity.”

“Aye. And when they try to make do without, they get ill, or weak, and cannot work even more.”

“The crops will suffer. Exports will be ne’er enough for our support.”

“We should raise what taxes we can. Get us through the winter.”

“My thoughts as well. No use making it worse if the workers aren’t to work.”

The senseless, selfish, vocal assault was something she would never get used to. She had always accompanied her late husband to council, and they had always participated together, but since his death, Vanndra was keenly aware that the complaints grew, the apparent problems at their heads more and more frivolous. Perhaps she was also changing; becoming more and more shrewd with the onset of each coming crisis, but, while that was indeed a possibility, she suspected it was more likely that council members supposed she could be more easily swayed now that her husband was dead. Indeed. They had scarcely given her time enough to mourn him on the violent surges of the shore that day, considering with unfathomable contempt those choppy waves that would forever hold him, until they began bombarding her with these trivialities. Even now, they persisted, though she had hardly once given into their incessant badgering. It must be out of character, she constantly had to remind herself.

She’d had enough by now. The chattering had gone on as her mind drifted, though she knew she hadn’t missed anything important. She noticed the curls of smoke rising from the chair at her side, and knew that Iksander was as agitated as she, for smoke was his favorite gentle distraction. They both had somewhere else they wanted to be, and sitting here wasn’t getting them there.

“Do you realize-” Vanndra interrupted, not waiting for an 'appropriate stopping point' or pause for breath, “that while you sit here telling me things I already know, more of my people are dying?”

The room was uncomfortably quiet, though not without an air of distaste.

“What insults me the most is that you sit here, offering me suggestions on how to best serve MY PEOPLE, when you do no service yourselves. You even go so far as to coat them so sweetly in honey that I may think your solutions are justified when in reality they only increase their suffering.” She paused for a moment, only to allow herself to look into the eyes of every one of them.

“MY PEOPLE!” She shouted, though her face did not betray her anger. “You can think of none other than yourselves and you try to tell me what to do about MY PEOPLE! What my people need is protection. Relief. Not higher taxes, you fools. We are finished.” she concluded, with a cool face and a swift wave of her hand. “Go.”

The room began to empty, though a few grumblings could be heard among the council members.

“Consider yourselves lucky that you are also my people.” Vanndra replied, undeterred.

When the room had been cleared of their suffocating stench and the doors shut softly after them, Vanndra breathed a sigh of relief, inhaling Iksander’s sharp smoke with it. She turned to him, the only person in the entire council who possessed a shred of sense in his old body, and she knew that he knew where they needed to be.

“So,” she remarked, after taking another breath of smoke. “Are you ready?”

Stickdom

 

[Kayso]

VORAK
Svartre, Castle Greymirk​

Vorak stood in the hallway where the girl had pulled him, stunned and gasping from his own fear and despair. His mother seemed perfectly fine when he saw her two days ago, though she did complain of a chill yesterday, for which he elected to leave her be. She rarely left the castle, in fact; he never thought she would contract the disease plaguing the people on the outside. This brought so many questions bubbling to the surface: How did the disease spread? How long did it take for the full effects to become visible? Could one become affected without receiving it from another?

He stopped a moment in immense sadness as the vision of his sister’s body, lifeless and discarded, reappeared in his mind. What could drive a mother to do such a thing? At least, he didn’t see anyone else in the room. Maybe his mother was in shock at the realization of her death, as he was, and only needed to be comforted… No. No, that could not be it. There was something unnatural in the way his mother appeared, as if something else walked in her skin or spoke with her voice; something like her but… not. Her flesh decayed, her eyes were dull, the life was gone from her. Is this what the people suffered? It brought tears to his eyes.

“My mother, she… my sister…” he mumbled to himself, not knowing what to say. How was he going to reverse this? He thought on the girl behind him - she had known what to do. Maybe she has seen this before.

“Have you heard anything of a cure? Anywhere?” He asked, desperately, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I have waited long enough - I need to do something.”

Rui

 

[Kayso]

MIKHEL
Halvost, Innsjost Castle​

“Thank you for your delivery, Rahulik, it couldn’t have come at a better time.” Mikhel massaged the bridge of his nose and temples, attempting to both rid himself of a growing headache and force himself into a more active alertness. "I am Mikhel Rask, healer and member of the Baroness' Helvete Vrede. While I - and the rest of Innsjost, truly - greatly appreciate your bringing us these much needed supplies, I'm afraid neither of you should be here." Turning to Thrynn, he attempted to answer his question in the most polite way possible. “I don’t think you should stay, Thrynn. It’s not that I don’t think you could be of help or quite useful - indeed, I sense capabilities in you, even though I do not know you - but you are too involved already; too close to this particular situation. I’m afraid it would only harm your feelings and distract you from…”

Mikhel stopped to cock his head to the side, tilting a little behind him, listening. He was sure he had heard something, and for some reason it made him uneasy. There was nothing.

“Uh, as I was saying,” he returned to look upon Thrynn, alertness in his tired eyes. “I think involving you would keep you from more important duties, perhaps that you have to your remaining family, and I think it would be too much of a dist...”

This time he was sure of it. Now completely alert, he fully turned his body so that he was facing the dimly-lit hallway behind him. His eyes darted from left to right and he gestured silence from the two young people behind him. “Keep those birds quiet, and get out of here.” he did his best to whisper, turning to Thrynn and Rahulik, a look of concern evident in his features. “The quickest way out is back through…”

He stopped and turned back down the hallway again, for this time there was no mistaking it: a shout had risen from the dank shadows beyond his field of vision, and though he could not see it from here, he suspected it had risen up the spiraled staircase from whence he had come only minutes earlier.

No, it wasn’t simply a shout - it was a scream.

Ignie Katsuya

 

[Ignie]

THRYNN
Halvost, Innjost Castle


Thrynn's shoulders lowered as Mikhel gave his answer. So, there was no hope. How he could know what happened to his father then? It was so unfair, the young boy thought, he did nothing to deserve all of this right?

However, mind soon replaced his feelings, and he must admit that the man was right. He was too involved in all of this to think properly, his mind would be drowned in anger and sadness too oftenly to think properly of the situation, and he needed to be concentrated to focus on what caused those attacks. More, his mother needed him. Thrynn was all she had now. Maybe Mikhel was right, maybe his place was at home, with his mother. Maybe it was time to try to get over his father's death and...

The half elf was cut short in his thoughts, as the mas stopped talking and turned around, completely alarmed about something. He whispered something to them, but a scrzam echoed in the castle, a scream that make Thrynn shudder in fear. What was that? Nothing good, of course...

"Sir!" The blonde boy whispered quickly, "What was that? It... it's one of them, right? One of those who are sick...?" He finished, frightened, picturing what kind of horror may be happening where the scream was coming from.

And it wasn't good things he imagined.

Kayso Katsuya

 

[Katsuya]

- Rahulik Lokk -
- Baroness' castle, Halvøst -​

Rahulik's brows furrowed in worry as she listens in on the men again. She was about to leave, so the healer didn't need to remind her of not staying. She was just here for her job. The blonde druid was about to speak up when she noticed...the odd twitches and looks Mikhel was giving behind him. Thought didn't like how he was addressed by the healer and crowed in rebellion, quieting down when she whispered an alarmed coo as Memory puffed up her feathers.

Her eyes narrowed a bit, suspicious as to what he was hearing until he fully turned around as a scream echoed in the hallways from the staircase.

Her eyes widened, surprise and fear run through her veins as she gulped. Her raven friends flapped their wings in fright and she had to cupped their wings gently for them to not make another loud sound. She looked over at Thrynn as he asked to Mikhel and she inhaled a gasp. Is...Is she going to see what basically happened to her mother? To Eir long before? Rahulik quietly wrapped her arms around her waist as if to hold herself together as she asked in a wounded whisper.

"Is that why the Baroness ordered so much healing potions, herbs, and medicine?" The blonde shuddered out a breathe before asking. "Perhaps...perhaps you need some assistance, Mr. Mikhel? I'm...I'm a druid. Maybe we can help you with something?" Rahulik muttered quietly, now staring down at the darkness where she heard the screams. She really didn't want to go up and see, but...she didn't want anyone else to be a victim either...

Kayso Ignie

 

[Epiphany]

SVARTRE
Ake Gunhildsdotter

Spoiler: Ake's theme

"Hold there, let's take a look at you."

Ake stiffened as she came to a stop before the gates to Greymirk. The walls were seemingly fashioned out of rock quarried straight out of those neighboring mountains. Its guards were likewise, with thick stocky frames and blunt faces hard with intent. Their eyes gleamed sharply in the bright sunlight of high noon.

Both men approached her slowly, carefully. Ake felt a tendril of unease dip into her stomach at their wary expressions. Truly there was no cure in Svartre if two soldiers would be so on guard with an unarmed woman.

"I am Ake Gunhildsdotter."

"So you say."

"May I enter?"

The silent one sniffed. It was a sudden noise in the quiet, nearly windless afternoon. Then he shook his head once, tilted it in the direction of the gates and wandered back that way himself. "Hold on, that's it?" asked his companion. The two men exchanged looks that obviously meant more to each other than it did to Ake. The talking one looked her over again. Then a sudden smile crossed his bearded face. "Welcome to Greymirk."

Ake stood there a moment longer in the snow, surprised again at the sudden indifference in these two. Not even a question of where she'd come from? Why she'd come to the city?

She shrugged at last and trudged forward into the city proper, borne along by its rich scent of life. It wasn't as powerful as Valkys had been, and a glance at the men and women on the street told why. They didn't look healthy. Too little food recently. It was a good thing she'd lost most of her taste for it, since chances were it'd be scarce to come by here. At least the city still looked alive. There were men engaged in barter, other men hauling a wagon of goods and a small pack of women conversed on a street corner.

Clad in her winter travel furs, Ake stood out enough to draw no end of curious looks. Despite their hungry faces, there was little sign of desperation there, nor suspicion. A few others sniffed, as if colds were common in this land. Then a young man peeled off from his companions, slipped his arm in hers and escorted her on up the street.

"...Excuse me, who are you?" Ake asked, shocked at the suddenly forward behavior and at the man's apparent disinclination to offer an explanation now.

"Does it matter?"

"Not really." She eyed him and grew cross with his cheeky grin. "Have you nothing better to do?"

"Not really," he said back, echoing her tone. The young man's grin grew wider. "You're a traveler?"

"I am. I heard tales of...I wanted to see Greymirk and Svartre for myself. I seem to have come at a bad time though."

"Oh, I don't know about that. I'd say things have worked out pretty well, don't you think?"

She stared at him. "Your people look hungry. All of them. And there's not many of them at that. There's stories of an illness around the lands, you know. Men turning against men. Disappearances."

"It's been a hard winter. It'll be easier now, you'll see." His head bobbed with easy confidence. Then one eyebrow lifted. "Come to see the castle?"

"I hadn't given it much thought," she replied, still frosty with this stranger and his odd behavior. "Should I?"

"Oh, I think you shouldn't miss it. Go right on up. You might even see the Queen or the Baron! Who knows?"

His strange laughter echoed down the street as he finally peeled away. Ake shivered, rubbing at her arm where he'd attached himself, rubbing at the furs as if to wipe away whatever madness afflicted him. That certainly wasn't normal conversation. This whole city had gone very strange. Perhaps she should flee it now.

...And go where?

With a sigh, Ake trudged on up to the castle proper. At least she could see it with her own eyes. And maybe talk to someone with a bit more sense.

 

[Stickdom]

IksanderHalvost Council Chamber, Innsjost Palace
Iksander allowed himself a satisfied chuckle as the Wolf-Queen bared her fangs at the sheep she lorded over. Serves the flock right for doubting the shepherd. He had only the utmost respect for Vanndra, she was no weak, sniveling politician who required someone to command them, quite the opposite, she was fierce and strong and bold in both word and deed. The weak needed guidance, the strong must give it to them. That was their way in Halvost. A small smirk crossed his lips as he noticed her close her eyes for a moment and inhale the smoke he had been toying with. It was like a sea serpent on the scent of blood, he could tell she grew tired of the councils and the discussions, his Lady Wolf hungered for something worth the hunting. "My Lady Vanndra, I am always ready. I seek but your command. I hear and I obey, with my life and my honour." He clasped his empty fist over his heart in the sign of fealty and reverence, beating on his chest with a resonating thump as his bronze-coated gauntlets beat through the fabric of his shirt onto his drum of a chest. "My men bring news of our people, milady. The affliction spreads without boundary, there is no sign of cure or warning of its coming. I fear it is far more than a mere plague, some have whispered of demons with the faces of men, while others have spoken of the dead walking among the living. Necromancer or demon either, this is nothing less than an attack against your people, Lady Vanndra."

He walked alongside her, moving towards the door of the council chamber and occasionally loosing a ring of smoke from his pipe that danced towards the arched ceiling until it vanished from sight. "I have made preparations for the worst. Doctors and alchemists have been summoned to lend their aid, even now one of my trusted Vrede is taking care of a shipment of treatments which has just arrived. If it would please you, I would have you look it over and give your orders for its distribution among our people so they may be protected. I have also given orders to the Helvete which are patrolling to keep you under constant watch for your protection. Several are hidden among the city here as we speak, and many more are holding the roads to and from the city secure against any who seek entrance. I took the liberty of these commands for you safety, I pray you do not find my actions presumptuous. I know you are more than capable of your own protection, however..." Iksander's voice trailed off as he turned his face to the floor, a hint of sorrow and shame in his last words. "I have lost one liege in my lifetime, I could not bear to lose another. Your life is more valuable than my own as much as there are more stars in the sky than one can count." A plea for her caution. She would not accept it, he was sure. Vanndra was proud and confident, her fierce determination would drive her to personally destroy the ones who threatened her beloved citizens if she were given only a moment's chance. Which warranted Iksander's caution, his fears that his lady would do something extraordinarily bold and reckless were not founded on mere whim or trifling instinct. He himself had abstained from going on his precious hunts to remain by her side, as threats and rumours of the attacks drew ever nearer to Innsjost, he was prepared at any moment to fight and die for her protection from this unseen, unknown foe.

Kayso

 

[Rusty of Shackleford]

Ander's Theme:
​

Ander was walking down the road, his cloak gently swaying as he did so. His two swords were on his back, each for a different kind of monster. He pulled his cloak over himself, pulling his hood up as well as he saw a city in the horizon, Svartre. He'd heard it was infested with all manners of diseases, and he had no intention of getting ill on his quest to kill his brother. He was still haunted by that night, the mere thought making his chest hurt. He shook those thoughts out of his mind, entering the city and going straight to the less impoverished section of it, since he figured he'd have a better chance of not catching something there. He heard a how as he entered, looking grimly at the source before turning back around.

 

[Rui]

Shireen​

The maid's hands shook. She clenched them and unclenched them at her sides.
"No. I haven't, my lord."
She glanced back at the door.
"We should leave it, my lord. That door is thick, but it may not hold forever. Perhaps someone ought to board it up...for the time being."
She took the Baron's hand in her own, dirt smudged, pale hand.
"Come, let's get you to rest. I can prepare some letters on your behalf to the other kingdoms..." she trailed off, watching her master carefully.
"Yes, you should lie down at once." She carefully led him forward, towards his chambers.
The stone halls had never felt more empty than this.
Kayso