Clear Day, the sun even warm. Almost a reprieve from the harshness we have encountered. But a small part of me feels this is just the calm before the storm and something big coming – something very big.
I shake my head, clearing my mind as I think back to the Hrimpursah, the Frost Giants. A small bit of memory that I had almost forgotten about them. They were great giants, but the elders had a unique ability – after a long slumber they could become Titans. Titans – the very beings that first inhabited this place.
Herath, a tundra-tribes man approached us having been follow or followed the dog, Fionnghal. Alive, a bit under nourished, but alive. Herath was on a quest so similar to our own, his quest was bestowed upon him by his peoples’ old shaman who he referred to as The Old Mountain.
Iron mount once held bell of the dead
Where giant-slayer rests his head
Lost titans wait for ice’s return
The tree and tear must surely burn
Or spring’s last breath will pass us by
Find the way while the chance is nigh
So similar to ours it was good to have another with us. We talked at some length while travelling, I shared my knowledge and he in turn shared his.
We tracked some Bison and were able to bring one down to increase our food supplies. I used my Mount spell as a beast of burden for a couple of days.
As we entered the forest on our way to the Greywynd River, we caught the scent of fire. Wood smoke. We investigated, Herath scouting quite effectively, we found a Garren village. Burned and destroyed, the people slaughtered as was their livestock – giant beetle like creatures. We saw a creature well something shrouded in darkness as we took cover. It seemed to leave. Our first thought was Fenris. That changed though as we found the bodies of hobgoblins.
Aenir whispered – Blakh. Blakh after asking him later, were the leaders of the Hobgoblin people and were spell casters. My thoughts went back to those responsible for the Scours death – goblins and a spellcaster – the spellcaster was able to flee.
We searched the village again and found a single survivor – a hobgoblin and it was agreed we took him back to camp where I use two of my spells to heal his wounds – after getting the assurance of all that he will not be killed.
Breakfinger, the hobgoblin was very cooperative and then again I am not surprised. He could speak the human tongue as well. He told us of two hobgoblin camps, also that they had destroyed two Garren villagers. Stranger still was that they, the hobgoblins had only been in the forrest for around 3 days and 3 black were with them. Something at the back of my head said this was not a coincidence.
That night someone or something passed our camp, three at least.
We neared the camp, Breakfinger told us we were about a mile away. We crossed over the frozen river, circumventing the camp by a mile or more. Herath climbed a tree and could see the camp as well as what could be the burial mound.
Great. On the right track finally.
We let Breakfinger go then and headed towards the mound, covering our tracks as we went. Found it too.
We forced open the stone door and Don entered the tomb as I lit up my staff. A sarcophagus, and from it a shadowy spirit formed. I was truly amazed a the sight and Don’s calmness in talking to the spirit – You may take the book but touch nothing else. It said and vanished back into its coffin. I realised then there were to be five of them, Kentos’s shoulder men. The five swords of bone.
We encountered more of them before finding the final tomb-chamber. A pillar inscribed with runes of another tongue that I could not realise. Felghanis was able to pick out a few words, an ancient tongue, the ones that stood our were Three Deer. Another clue!
Just as Felghanis spoke to Kentos’s spirit who agreed we may take the book, we heard the sudden sounds of battle from the mouth of the Tomb. As we span about, thinking only it was hobgoblins – we were still surprised that they got us so quickly..