It was a warm night and the moon shone through open parts of the forest canopy. A slight wind blew through the eaves, creating dancing shadows as the leaves wavered in the moonlight. The nocturnal creatures were out, either foraging for food or calling out in the darkness to their mate.
Ulthar sat upon an old oak that had been felled by lightening a season past. His eyes were closed as he listened to the sounds of the night and to the whispering spirits. It was peaceful.
The wind changed direction slightly and immediately his ears perked at the sound that was carried upon it. Coming out of his reverie, he slowly stood and turned his horned head towards the north as the Ji Lyn chanting grew louder upon the wind.
"There is more than to our resident Minotaur than he even preceives"
These was the words he heard spoken by the Archdruid Cirran to the mage Falson.
"For answers, seek the witches. As to why, they may or may not tell you."
These were the words the Archdruid spoke to Ulthar.
"Seek the witches", the Minotaur shaman whispered. It had been a full cycle of the moon when Ulthar had first received the odd images. When they came to him upon the chants of the Ji Lyn. Images of faces and a place he did not know. Then the images turned to ones of burning, crying pleas, and death.
"Seek the witches", he whispered again to himself.
A loud hoot broke the Minotuar's thoughts. Ulthar looked up and found a large spotted owl perched high on a limb, looking for its nightly meal. The minotaur turned his gaze back towards the north momentarily and then looked back up to the owl. The druid shaman then closed his eyes and reached out with his thoughts to the owl. The owl turned his head nearly all the way around and looked down at the Minotaur. It clicked its beak and hooted softly in response to the druids thoughts. The spotted owl then gave a loud hoot and took flight off its branch soaring north into the night.
The nocturnal bird quietly made its way north of the eaves. It banked slightly to the left making its way to an old pecan tree. With a few flaps to slow its speed it landed without sound on a thick branch overlooking the spot where the witches were often found. Once it settled itself it gave several clicks of its beak and then looked down and watched.
A Path Taken and Forgotten
Moderator: Lords of The Realm
A Path Taken and Forgotten
Last edited by Ulthar on Fri Sep 02, 2005 6:18 am, edited 1 time in total.
Ulthar, Minotaur Shaman
-
Peregrinus
- Dasarian Hero
- Posts: 725
- Joined: Thu Nov 04, 2004 3:53 pm
- Location: Dragonwatch
-
Peregrinus
- Dasarian Hero
- Posts: 725
- Joined: Thu Nov 04, 2004 3:53 pm
- Location: Dragonwatch
. More will be coming. 
The owl moved its head once in a circular motion, closely watching the gathered coven below, its eyes glinting off the green light that illuminated from center pillar below.
Ulthar could see well through the nocturnal bird's night piercing eyes. From what he could tell the owl had perched itself upon one of the trees that had grown tall among the ancient circle of standing stones. The Minotaur sensed the owl wishes to return to its hunting, but he beseeched the bird to stay. The Ji Lyn's chanting had summoned unknown images into his mind. And the druid shaman wished to know why.
The group had gathered around the center stone, their chanting ceased. They were all cloaked heavily and their faces laid deep within their hoods. But one stood out among them. From what the Minotaur could tell, by the way the figure stooped and by the look of the old and age spotted hands it was an old woman.
The aged witch stood in front of two other cloaked figures, a male and female, and held aloft a stone bowl and a large feather. The witch whispered a short chant and lowered the bowl and quil, and dipped the quil into the bowl's contents. The two who stood before her opened up their robes and laid bare their chests to the old crone. She withdrew the quill and brought it foward to the female's breast. The witch hesitated for a moment and then plunged the tip of the quill into her skin. She began to scribe, cut, deep into her chest. And the coven began to chant.
Ulthar stumbled foward, nearly falling to his knees when an image of someone dressed in green and brown robes flashed into his mind. Then more images flashed. He stumbled foward some more. Images of others he did not know. Then images of flames flashed in his mind. Images of robed men and women. The Ji Lyn? He could then hear screams of pain. And his own screams of anquish. The chanting seemed to grow louder as the images continued. And unknowingly, he stumbled foward even further.
"Enough!", Ulthar bellowed loudly as he emerged from the darkness. The owl screeched and took flight into the night. The chanting stopped abruptly and all turned to regard what had disturbed their ritual. Ulthar blinked away the tears and looked around realizing that he had inadvertantly stumbled his way here through the eaves.
The two who had baired their chests, quickly closed their robes and ran frightened, with the others of the coven, into the night. Only the old witch remained.
Ulthar stared long and silent at the robed witch, waiting to see if she would attack the intruder. The only move she made was to set down the bowl and feather. She then faced the Minotaur and slid her hands into her robes.
"Why has a brother of the oak come to trouble our sacred ritual, hmm? Why has "it" come?", the witch curtly asked.
Ulthar eyes shifted left and right, looking into the night to make sure they were trully alone. Once convinced it was so, he looked straight at the hooded crone.
"I seek answers, old one."
The witch chuckled.
Ulthar could see well through the nocturnal bird's night piercing eyes. From what he could tell the owl had perched itself upon one of the trees that had grown tall among the ancient circle of standing stones. The Minotaur sensed the owl wishes to return to its hunting, but he beseeched the bird to stay. The Ji Lyn's chanting had summoned unknown images into his mind. And the druid shaman wished to know why.
The group had gathered around the center stone, their chanting ceased. They were all cloaked heavily and their faces laid deep within their hoods. But one stood out among them. From what the Minotaur could tell, by the way the figure stooped and by the look of the old and age spotted hands it was an old woman.
The aged witch stood in front of two other cloaked figures, a male and female, and held aloft a stone bowl and a large feather. The witch whispered a short chant and lowered the bowl and quil, and dipped the quil into the bowl's contents. The two who stood before her opened up their robes and laid bare their chests to the old crone. She withdrew the quill and brought it foward to the female's breast. The witch hesitated for a moment and then plunged the tip of the quill into her skin. She began to scribe, cut, deep into her chest. And the coven began to chant.
Ulthar stumbled foward, nearly falling to his knees when an image of someone dressed in green and brown robes flashed into his mind. Then more images flashed. He stumbled foward some more. Images of others he did not know. Then images of flames flashed in his mind. Images of robed men and women. The Ji Lyn? He could then hear screams of pain. And his own screams of anquish. The chanting seemed to grow louder as the images continued. And unknowingly, he stumbled foward even further.
"Enough!", Ulthar bellowed loudly as he emerged from the darkness. The owl screeched and took flight into the night. The chanting stopped abruptly and all turned to regard what had disturbed their ritual. Ulthar blinked away the tears and looked around realizing that he had inadvertantly stumbled his way here through the eaves.
The two who had baired their chests, quickly closed their robes and ran frightened, with the others of the coven, into the night. Only the old witch remained.
Ulthar stared long and silent at the robed witch, waiting to see if she would attack the intruder. The only move she made was to set down the bowl and feather. She then faced the Minotaur and slid her hands into her robes.
"Why has a brother of the oak come to trouble our sacred ritual, hmm? Why has "it" come?", the witch curtly asked.
Ulthar eyes shifted left and right, looking into the night to make sure they were trully alone. Once convinced it was so, he looked straight at the hooded crone.
"I seek answers, old one."
The witch chuckled.
Last edited by Ulthar on Fri Sep 02, 2005 6:26 am, edited 1 time in total.
Ulthar, Minotaur Shaman
-
Cirran Silverwind
- Archdruid of Dasaria
- Posts: 133
- Joined: Sat Jun 21, 2003 2:34 am
The raspy sound of the crone's mild laughter echoed from the nearby trees with a grating edge. Old though she may have been, this place was corrupted with the power of the Ji Lyn, and she felt her confidence swell as her mind reached out and touched the latent darkness within the small enclave. The great beast before her was unwavering in the intensity of its gaze as the unpleasant laughter quieted and subsided slowly.
"You are a thing. No longer a "who," only a "what!"" With these words, the elderly witch make a gesture toward the blood-filled bowl, and an impossible amount of the sticky red fluid poured from it, upward, to coat the witch completely in a crimson embrace, and then sink slowly into her skin. As she absorbed the liquid into her, her eyes seemed to transform before the eyes of the minotaur, shifting from amused to annoyed to angry to cruel. Cruel in its very simplest form. The shaman realized that this was a dweomer designed to increase the witch's power within this corrupted place of her cult.
Ulthar whirled his massive staff above his head and uttered several unintelligible syllables - a guttural language which the witch guessed were his own spells of protection. Indeed, as the butt of the staff thumped, resounding against the face of the earth, the very stone from beneath him rose to his call, coating him in a thick layer of itself. A shimmer of runes ran along the surface of the stone, their protective energies preparing to shield him from all but the most determined of magical assaults. The minotaur continued to stare. His rage still compelled him to attack, but his reason battled against the urge, understanding that if he were to levy his full power against the crone and destroy her, any answers she may have would be snuffed out along wit her life. The battle-lust of the minotaur, thus, was held in check.
Tiring of the stalemate, and understanding that her spell's power was much more fleeting and temporary than the protection of the land, the witch raised her hand and began to cast her opening spell. Likewise, the voice of the minotaur rang low and harsh over the area as he divined her casting and sought to prepare a defense. Both spells, however, ended abruptly before their completion. The minotaur's out of surprise, and the witch's from a sudden change in her circumstances.
The area was suddenly and without warninhg bathed in a brilliant glow, a cool, sweet breeze flowing forth to caress the leaves of the trees. An impossibly strong hand clutched the collar of the robe of the witch and lifted, hoisting her six inches from the floor of the forest. The crone yelped despite herself, flailing awkwardly in the iron grip. Her head turned to the side, in time to see the man in flowing dark green robes who seemed to step from the very trunk of the tree she stood beside. The impassive gaze of the Archdruid fell upon her, his expressionless, unblinking stare causing her flailing to slow, and ultimately cease. The witch's face took on a look of despair as without indication or motion from Cirran Silverwind, the enchantments she had woven about herself shattered, the noise akin to the breaking of a hundred window panes, accompanied by shafts of brilliant light, marking the sundering of her magic. At long length, the Archdruid spoke, his voice calm, his bearing offering no clue as to the words that issued forth.
"You thought me gone." The witch swallowed at this, having indeed thought herself and her troupe rid of the influence of the Archdruid. "You have, in my absence, returned to disrupting the balance of this place." The little remaining color fled the cheeks of the aged witch, knowing that the unreadable tone of the young Archdruid's voice could well hide an upcoming sentence. This she had seen herself in the past.
"Silverwind... It is not... we did nothing... it is THIS creature which causes this! Minotaurs are a greater enemy to nature than we ever were!" The witch held her breath, though secretly she congratulated herself on her effort at diverting the man's attention.
Cirran lowered his brows and peered closely at the woman, as though looking into her soul. After only a few seconds of searching, the man spoke again. "I can see your lie for what it is. As do I see all untruths which offer threat to Balance. Balance not only of nature, but of life." Only then did Cirran look to the massive minotaur, who stood watching the exchange in silence. The Archdruid met the creature's gaze, but offered no other greeting. "You and yours have tampered with things which no mortal has the right to... and few immortals would dare to." The calm words came without even an accusatory tone - it was well known that the robed man was imbued with the lost talent of utter control of his passions and emotions in the line of his duty to Balance. The sentence was a simple statement of fact. Involuntarily the witch looked to the Minotaur and swallowed hard.
"I had no hand in any such doing!" Again the Archdruid narrowed his eyes only slightly, studying something unseen within the hag.
"Truth." The witch allowed herself the leisure of a smug raising of her chin, though her minor triumph was short-lived as Cirran spoke again. "But you've knowledge of such things," he stated simply. Ulthar watched with growing interest as the crone again looked nervously toward him.
"I will speak!" The witch was growing increasingly desperate, trapped between the immense power of the returned Archdruid and the intent stare of the hulking, obviously angry minotaur. It was clear, from the nervous glances toward the creature, that she preferred the mercies of the Archdruid to what she felt the minotaur may have planned for her. "I will speak, I say! It was -..."
"Silence," came the soft, yet undeniable command from Cirran. "For crimes against this forest do you speak to me. Your other doings are investigated by those wronged. Know that I watch, to ensure that your honesty shall grant the opportunity to restore the balance that has been stolen." The Archdruid again flickered a glance toward Ulthar. "Balance in all things your kind has touched. Know that I watch you henceforth... beginning with the truth of what you shall tell of what has been done." The witch seemed to be nearing open panic now, gazing with wide eyes at the minotaur.
"You cannot simply leave me defenseless to this... thing!" She screamed, her voice rising two octaves, edged with her fear. Minotaurs were not friends to nature, their magics being shamanic in nature, rather than divine as was druidic magic. Ulthar had yet to learn why the Archdruid had not simply proclaimed him an enemy of nature. Indeed, the Archdruid had hinted to Ulthar that he knew of the creature's past, and might find it in his path to aid Ulthar in his quest of discovery.
The Archdruid's gaze hung upon the eyes of the old witch as his words came forth again. "You are not the only one who is watched." The Archdruid turned his head to meet the minotaur's gaze a final time, ensuring that Ulthar understood that the words were for him.
The Archdruid set the old witch back down lightly, without violence or even animosity. A gentle push from the man sent her toward the minotaur, whose gaze only then shifted from the Archdruid back to the obviously terrified old crone. A soft breeze again rippled through the trees, and when both of them turned their heads again, the Archdruid was gone.
The witch swallowed hard and looked up, up, up into the eyes of the towering minotaur, wondering if the "watching eyes" of the Archdruid were to see the sentence he had passed upon her end with only answers... or with her death.
"You are a thing. No longer a "who," only a "what!"" With these words, the elderly witch make a gesture toward the blood-filled bowl, and an impossible amount of the sticky red fluid poured from it, upward, to coat the witch completely in a crimson embrace, and then sink slowly into her skin. As she absorbed the liquid into her, her eyes seemed to transform before the eyes of the minotaur, shifting from amused to annoyed to angry to cruel. Cruel in its very simplest form. The shaman realized that this was a dweomer designed to increase the witch's power within this corrupted place of her cult.
Ulthar whirled his massive staff above his head and uttered several unintelligible syllables - a guttural language which the witch guessed were his own spells of protection. Indeed, as the butt of the staff thumped, resounding against the face of the earth, the very stone from beneath him rose to his call, coating him in a thick layer of itself. A shimmer of runes ran along the surface of the stone, their protective energies preparing to shield him from all but the most determined of magical assaults. The minotaur continued to stare. His rage still compelled him to attack, but his reason battled against the urge, understanding that if he were to levy his full power against the crone and destroy her, any answers she may have would be snuffed out along wit her life. The battle-lust of the minotaur, thus, was held in check.
Tiring of the stalemate, and understanding that her spell's power was much more fleeting and temporary than the protection of the land, the witch raised her hand and began to cast her opening spell. Likewise, the voice of the minotaur rang low and harsh over the area as he divined her casting and sought to prepare a defense. Both spells, however, ended abruptly before their completion. The minotaur's out of surprise, and the witch's from a sudden change in her circumstances.
The area was suddenly and without warninhg bathed in a brilliant glow, a cool, sweet breeze flowing forth to caress the leaves of the trees. An impossibly strong hand clutched the collar of the robe of the witch and lifted, hoisting her six inches from the floor of the forest. The crone yelped despite herself, flailing awkwardly in the iron grip. Her head turned to the side, in time to see the man in flowing dark green robes who seemed to step from the very trunk of the tree she stood beside. The impassive gaze of the Archdruid fell upon her, his expressionless, unblinking stare causing her flailing to slow, and ultimately cease. The witch's face took on a look of despair as without indication or motion from Cirran Silverwind, the enchantments she had woven about herself shattered, the noise akin to the breaking of a hundred window panes, accompanied by shafts of brilliant light, marking the sundering of her magic. At long length, the Archdruid spoke, his voice calm, his bearing offering no clue as to the words that issued forth.
"You thought me gone." The witch swallowed at this, having indeed thought herself and her troupe rid of the influence of the Archdruid. "You have, in my absence, returned to disrupting the balance of this place." The little remaining color fled the cheeks of the aged witch, knowing that the unreadable tone of the young Archdruid's voice could well hide an upcoming sentence. This she had seen herself in the past.
"Silverwind... It is not... we did nothing... it is THIS creature which causes this! Minotaurs are a greater enemy to nature than we ever were!" The witch held her breath, though secretly she congratulated herself on her effort at diverting the man's attention.
Cirran lowered his brows and peered closely at the woman, as though looking into her soul. After only a few seconds of searching, the man spoke again. "I can see your lie for what it is. As do I see all untruths which offer threat to Balance. Balance not only of nature, but of life." Only then did Cirran look to the massive minotaur, who stood watching the exchange in silence. The Archdruid met the creature's gaze, but offered no other greeting. "You and yours have tampered with things which no mortal has the right to... and few immortals would dare to." The calm words came without even an accusatory tone - it was well known that the robed man was imbued with the lost talent of utter control of his passions and emotions in the line of his duty to Balance. The sentence was a simple statement of fact. Involuntarily the witch looked to the Minotaur and swallowed hard.
"I had no hand in any such doing!" Again the Archdruid narrowed his eyes only slightly, studying something unseen within the hag.
"Truth." The witch allowed herself the leisure of a smug raising of her chin, though her minor triumph was short-lived as Cirran spoke again. "But you've knowledge of such things," he stated simply. Ulthar watched with growing interest as the crone again looked nervously toward him.
"I will speak!" The witch was growing increasingly desperate, trapped between the immense power of the returned Archdruid and the intent stare of the hulking, obviously angry minotaur. It was clear, from the nervous glances toward the creature, that she preferred the mercies of the Archdruid to what she felt the minotaur may have planned for her. "I will speak, I say! It was -..."
"Silence," came the soft, yet undeniable command from Cirran. "For crimes against this forest do you speak to me. Your other doings are investigated by those wronged. Know that I watch, to ensure that your honesty shall grant the opportunity to restore the balance that has been stolen." The Archdruid again flickered a glance toward Ulthar. "Balance in all things your kind has touched. Know that I watch you henceforth... beginning with the truth of what you shall tell of what has been done." The witch seemed to be nearing open panic now, gazing with wide eyes at the minotaur.
"You cannot simply leave me defenseless to this... thing!" She screamed, her voice rising two octaves, edged with her fear. Minotaurs were not friends to nature, their magics being shamanic in nature, rather than divine as was druidic magic. Ulthar had yet to learn why the Archdruid had not simply proclaimed him an enemy of nature. Indeed, the Archdruid had hinted to Ulthar that he knew of the creature's past, and might find it in his path to aid Ulthar in his quest of discovery.
The Archdruid's gaze hung upon the eyes of the old witch as his words came forth again. "You are not the only one who is watched." The Archdruid turned his head to meet the minotaur's gaze a final time, ensuring that Ulthar understood that the words were for him.
The Archdruid set the old witch back down lightly, without violence or even animosity. A gentle push from the man sent her toward the minotaur, whose gaze only then shifted from the Archdruid back to the obviously terrified old crone. A soft breeze again rippled through the trees, and when both of them turned their heads again, the Archdruid was gone.
The witch swallowed hard and looked up, up, up into the eyes of the towering minotaur, wondering if the "watching eyes" of the Archdruid were to see the sentence he had passed upon her end with only answers... or with her death.
Cirran Silverwind
In Service to Ki
In Service to Ki
It remained quiet for many moments after Archdruid's departure. The wind blowing lightly, causing the leaves in the trees and the shadows to appear as if they danced together in the green light emitted by center stone pillar.
The minotaur continued to glare down his muzzle at the cowering crone. He then stepped foward, allowing his stone protections to fade, and leaned towards her. "Well old one, you know what I wish to know. Now speak." The witch flinched back from the huge shaman and gave a nervous lick of her dry lips and stared fearfully up at the minotaur.
"You have nothing to fear. Just tell me what I wish to know and I will leave you." She seemed to calm slightly at the gesture and looked left and right wondering if the Archdruid was still watching.
Her gaze fell back to the Minotaur and she gave a nod. Satisfied, Ulthar took a few steps back and spoke. "Now, what can you tell me of these visions I have seen? Visions of people and places unknown to me." The witch eyes flickered left and right in thought and then she looked up to beast before her and hinted a smile. "You say these are people and places are unknown to you, creature, hmm? How do you know they are not?" Ulthar glared down at her questioningly and stepped foward. "What do you mean?" She coward away, turning away and bringing up her hands thinking her time had come. "Please!, I wish to help." Ulthar stopped and kept his ground.
The witch finally brought down her hands and turned her eyes back to the minotaur. "I am uncertain, but those visions might be yours. Yes, they could. Ones forgotten or.........taken." Ulthar furrowed his brows and stared at the witch, trying to decipher her meaning. "But I cannot be for certain. But there is one who may know" She gave a slight smile. "Yes she may know." The hag whispered to herself turning away, smiling. "Who?" demanded the minotaur. The witch turned and locked eyes with the hulking shaman. "Go west to the great city of Dasar. Then turn your path north into the mountains. Search for a cave and there you may find the one who will know the truth."
Ulthar stood there, keeping his furrowed gaze upon the hag. His face then softened and he turned away, walking into in the night.
The witch then yelled. "But in finding the truth, you may find your death, creature!" She cackled loudly and disappeared into the night.
The minotaur continued to glare down his muzzle at the cowering crone. He then stepped foward, allowing his stone protections to fade, and leaned towards her. "Well old one, you know what I wish to know. Now speak." The witch flinched back from the huge shaman and gave a nervous lick of her dry lips and stared fearfully up at the minotaur.
"You have nothing to fear. Just tell me what I wish to know and I will leave you." She seemed to calm slightly at the gesture and looked left and right wondering if the Archdruid was still watching.
Her gaze fell back to the Minotaur and she gave a nod. Satisfied, Ulthar took a few steps back and spoke. "Now, what can you tell me of these visions I have seen? Visions of people and places unknown to me." The witch eyes flickered left and right in thought and then she looked up to beast before her and hinted a smile. "You say these are people and places are unknown to you, creature, hmm? How do you know they are not?" Ulthar glared down at her questioningly and stepped foward. "What do you mean?" She coward away, turning away and bringing up her hands thinking her time had come. "Please!, I wish to help." Ulthar stopped and kept his ground.
The witch finally brought down her hands and turned her eyes back to the minotaur. "I am uncertain, but those visions might be yours. Yes, they could. Ones forgotten or.........taken." Ulthar furrowed his brows and stared at the witch, trying to decipher her meaning. "But I cannot be for certain. But there is one who may know" She gave a slight smile. "Yes she may know." The hag whispered to herself turning away, smiling. "Who?" demanded the minotaur. The witch turned and locked eyes with the hulking shaman. "Go west to the great city of Dasar. Then turn your path north into the mountains. Search for a cave and there you may find the one who will know the truth."
Ulthar stood there, keeping his furrowed gaze upon the hag. His face then softened and he turned away, walking into in the night.
The witch then yelled. "But in finding the truth, you may find your death, creature!" She cackled loudly and disappeared into the night.
Last edited by Ulthar on Fri Sep 02, 2005 6:40 am, edited 1 time in total.
Ulthar, Minotaur Shaman
"Faster!", shouted Alman, doing his best to be heard over the roaring winds of the blizzard. The four men hastened their work on the huge pine that had just fallen moments ago into their path, chopping at it with handaxes and shortswords.
"I told you we should have left yestereve!", scolded Alman's younger brother. "Shut your mouth and just make sure the horses don't bolt with the wagon, Telgar! Or you'll find more than this cursed snow pounding your face, brother. Now Push!" Telgar mumbled something in response to Alman's rebuke and continued to watch his brothers progress.
The five brothers would have been back home by now, enjoying a hot meal, a fine ale and by a roaring fire. But Alman, the oldest, insisted they stay one more night in Telkhmar to barter for more goods they would sell in Dasar for an excellent profit.
That night the Telkhmar elders noticed Winters Gem shining brilliantly.
In the early hours of the next day, the brothers had packed away the newly acquired goods upon the wagon and prepared to depart. The elders tried warning them a storm was approaching, but Alman would hear nothing of it. With his wagon fully loaded, his thoughts were on the gleaming gold that would soon be jingling in his purse. Barbaric superstitions would not deter him. By mid-day the weather took a turn for the worse. Their eldest brother's greed had led them to their current plight.
Keeping a tight rein on the horses, Telgar continued to watch his brothers efforts as the snow deepened around them,. Though occasionally he would try to peer through the falling snow to check their surroundings. He had heard of the beasts that roamed these lands and he did not wish for him and his brothers to become an easy meal. It was during one of these checks that something caught his attention. It was nothing he could see, but feel. The ground seemed to slightly rumble irregularly as if someone was pounding on it with all their might. At first he thought it might be an avalanche somewhere further up north towards the mountains. But he began to worry as the rumblings grew louder and closer. He shot a glance over to his brothers, but they seemed not to notice, still intent on freeing the road from the wind fallen tree. "Alman!", Telgar shouted out to get his brohter's attention, but Alman simply ignored his younger brother.
The rumbling then halted. Telgar nervously glanced around, half expecting for something to happen. It was then that he noticed something odd off to the right of the road, just behind a copse of trees. Strange, he was sure those stone pillars weren't there before. The younger brother gaze then raised to the tops of the trees where he locked eyes with a huge horned head made of stone.
"Monster!", Telgar shouted, startling the horses, but keeping a tight grip upon the reins. His brothers quickly looked up from their task, momentarily looked at their younger brother, then looked to where Telgar frantically pointed. Their eyes grew wide with fear as the stoney behemoth turned its sight to the four brothers. "Run!...n...No! Protect the wagon!", cried out Alman, his greed overcoming his common sense to flee. His brothers hesitated, but eventually obeyed, quickly making their way over the fallen tree to the wagon.
"Telgar! Get back here and help us protect the wagon!", Alman shouted through gritted teeth, his eyes darting between Telgar and the monster. Telgar was visibly frightened, but he shook his head in definance to his brother. "I...I'll not let that thing k..kill Abaccus and Prymos." "Forget those damn horses and do as your told.", growled Alman. Telgar shook his head defiantly, tightening his grip on the reins while keeping his gaze upon the stoney giant.
The creature kept behind the trees for a few moments more before moving away from behind the trees. The five brothers warily watched the monster as it made its way to the road, on the other side of the fallen tree. It stood there unmoving, looking down at them. Telgar drew his shortsword and held it up defensively. The blade shook in his hand not from the cold but from fear. The creature then reached down with both hands. Telgar closed his eyes and waited for his doom. But nothing happened. After a few seconds Telgar cracked open an eyelid, his eyes went wide when he found himself almost face to face with the creature. They stared at one another for a few moments, Telgar not daring to move.
"You have no need to fear me. I mean no harm.", came the gravely voice of the creature as it rose to its fullest height, bearing the fallen tree within its rocky grip. It side stepped off the road and placed the tree upon the ground. It then turned towards the brothers and pointed south. "The road is clear for now. If you hurry, you should make it before the snow deepens further." All five brothers stood there in shock at what just transpired. It was Telgar who broke the silence. "Th...thank you." The creature inclined his head and walked away towards the north.
Alman now realizing he wasn't going to die at the hands of the stoney giant, shook at his nearest brother shoulder, still not daring to keep his eyes off the creature. "Come on, lets get out here. Everyone, lets move!" The brothers quickly moved onto the wagon. Only Telgar moved unhurriedly as he watched the creature disappear from sight. Once they were all on the wagon, with a snap of the reins they brothers set off home.
Upon a hill overlooking the passage road, the cloak of a lone figure snapped violently in the cold wind of the snow storm, though the weather seemed not to bother the Minotaur at all. Ulthar had decided it was best to watch over the brothers and to make sure they left the passage safely. Once this task was finished he would turn his path back towards the north. To seek the answers he must find.
"I told you we should have left yestereve!", scolded Alman's younger brother. "Shut your mouth and just make sure the horses don't bolt with the wagon, Telgar! Or you'll find more than this cursed snow pounding your face, brother. Now Push!" Telgar mumbled something in response to Alman's rebuke and continued to watch his brothers progress.
The five brothers would have been back home by now, enjoying a hot meal, a fine ale and by a roaring fire. But Alman, the oldest, insisted they stay one more night in Telkhmar to barter for more goods they would sell in Dasar for an excellent profit.
That night the Telkhmar elders noticed Winters Gem shining brilliantly.
In the early hours of the next day, the brothers had packed away the newly acquired goods upon the wagon and prepared to depart. The elders tried warning them a storm was approaching, but Alman would hear nothing of it. With his wagon fully loaded, his thoughts were on the gleaming gold that would soon be jingling in his purse. Barbaric superstitions would not deter him. By mid-day the weather took a turn for the worse. Their eldest brother's greed had led them to their current plight.
Keeping a tight rein on the horses, Telgar continued to watch his brothers efforts as the snow deepened around them,. Though occasionally he would try to peer through the falling snow to check their surroundings. He had heard of the beasts that roamed these lands and he did not wish for him and his brothers to become an easy meal. It was during one of these checks that something caught his attention. It was nothing he could see, but feel. The ground seemed to slightly rumble irregularly as if someone was pounding on it with all their might. At first he thought it might be an avalanche somewhere further up north towards the mountains. But he began to worry as the rumblings grew louder and closer. He shot a glance over to his brothers, but they seemed not to notice, still intent on freeing the road from the wind fallen tree. "Alman!", Telgar shouted out to get his brohter's attention, but Alman simply ignored his younger brother.
The rumbling then halted. Telgar nervously glanced around, half expecting for something to happen. It was then that he noticed something odd off to the right of the road, just behind a copse of trees. Strange, he was sure those stone pillars weren't there before. The younger brother gaze then raised to the tops of the trees where he locked eyes with a huge horned head made of stone.
"Monster!", Telgar shouted, startling the horses, but keeping a tight grip upon the reins. His brothers quickly looked up from their task, momentarily looked at their younger brother, then looked to where Telgar frantically pointed. Their eyes grew wide with fear as the stoney behemoth turned its sight to the four brothers. "Run!...n...No! Protect the wagon!", cried out Alman, his greed overcoming his common sense to flee. His brothers hesitated, but eventually obeyed, quickly making their way over the fallen tree to the wagon.
"Telgar! Get back here and help us protect the wagon!", Alman shouted through gritted teeth, his eyes darting between Telgar and the monster. Telgar was visibly frightened, but he shook his head in definance to his brother. "I...I'll not let that thing k..kill Abaccus and Prymos." "Forget those damn horses and do as your told.", growled Alman. Telgar shook his head defiantly, tightening his grip on the reins while keeping his gaze upon the stoney giant.
The creature kept behind the trees for a few moments more before moving away from behind the trees. The five brothers warily watched the monster as it made its way to the road, on the other side of the fallen tree. It stood there unmoving, looking down at them. Telgar drew his shortsword and held it up defensively. The blade shook in his hand not from the cold but from fear. The creature then reached down with both hands. Telgar closed his eyes and waited for his doom. But nothing happened. After a few seconds Telgar cracked open an eyelid, his eyes went wide when he found himself almost face to face with the creature. They stared at one another for a few moments, Telgar not daring to move.
"You have no need to fear me. I mean no harm.", came the gravely voice of the creature as it rose to its fullest height, bearing the fallen tree within its rocky grip. It side stepped off the road and placed the tree upon the ground. It then turned towards the brothers and pointed south. "The road is clear for now. If you hurry, you should make it before the snow deepens further." All five brothers stood there in shock at what just transpired. It was Telgar who broke the silence. "Th...thank you." The creature inclined his head and walked away towards the north.
Alman now realizing he wasn't going to die at the hands of the stoney giant, shook at his nearest brother shoulder, still not daring to keep his eyes off the creature. "Come on, lets get out here. Everyone, lets move!" The brothers quickly moved onto the wagon. Only Telgar moved unhurriedly as he watched the creature disappear from sight. Once they were all on the wagon, with a snap of the reins they brothers set off home.
Upon a hill overlooking the passage road, the cloak of a lone figure snapped violently in the cold wind of the snow storm, though the weather seemed not to bother the Minotaur at all. Ulthar had decided it was best to watch over the brothers and to make sure they left the passage safely. Once this task was finished he would turn his path back towards the north. To seek the answers he must find.
Ulthar, Minotaur Shaman