13th of the Fifth Month, 707th Epoch.
“So, what do you think lies at the end of Dhaugh’Ostrh?” Uld asked, trying to yell over the strident cacophony of the Chilled Giant Inn. His tail coming out from between his thick white pants and tunic, wiggled under the old bench while his small hands with sharp claws scratched the kegs’ wooden surface.
As usual when his friend Bjartur started thinking, his thick brows pressed against each other, his large forehead creased. “Not sure.” He answered as he turned to his gobokh friend, his dim-witted, intense blue eyes stared right up at the ceiling beams decorated with bones and skulls of various beasts, including some mammoth tusks, lupine skulls twice the size of his head - once belonged to a varaugh.
“I do heard tales of various kinds, including an ancient relic left behind by some long-forgotten seidrhaur, the remains of a large dragon, a kin of the Nightscale himself.” Bjartur added while leaning back in his chair, gulped down his mead instantly to moisten his throat. His thick beard rustled as the door of the inn opened, his and Uld’s attention turned instantly towards it.
Bjartur jolted up almost crashing the beam high above with his thick bald head covered in runic tattoos and waved to the two, a Skaeze maiden no older than twenty with still smooth, fair complexion lacking in scars. Long braided fair hair almost blending in with her skin and intense blue eyes like his. The other, a man in the same age range with just as fair long hair shaved on both sides, coming down his thick white furred coat in a natural dreaded tail. A beard knotted long swung east and west as he noticed Bjartur and waved back before the two – twin siblings headed towards them.
“Two of the same for these two dolls.” Bjartur yelled to the attendant, a fine smyrelf lady not looking more than thirty with smooth skin as dark as the ebony that decorated the walls of the deep roads. Crimson red eyes that were like fiery rubies, long white hair braided once that danced as she turned around and frowned at Bjartur – which made him smile like a dumb lover.
“Is it truly a good idea to drink before the trials?” Fridr asked in her deep voice as her eyes showed uncertainty about the idea of drinking themselves under the not just the table, but even the dead buried under frozen ground as they tended to usually.
“Well, father and mother did the same so why shouldn’t we?” Fram added with a tone brimming with certainty. The wickedly gorgeous server appeared seemingly out of nowhere placing the two large kegs in front of them, Bjartur slapped her bottom as she left, prompting a loud slap leaving behind a palm mark that was visible even through his thick bush of a beard.
“Children, if they are not all about following the faults of their parents.” Uld, the second oldest of the group said in a cheeky, quarter drunken tone.
“That doesn’t mean we should.” Fridr said quite hypocritically as she grabbed her keg and consumed at least half of the rich in flavors and color mead. A wide smile curved onto his brother’s handsome face as he reached for his.
“Anyway, seems like those two are late once again.” Then he added while taking a quick peek at the door he has entered through a few moments ago.
“I wonder if they are fucking this time, or actually sparring.” Uld slapped Bjartur in the back of his head as soon as he uttered those quite overt words. Then he stood up and went to relieve himself. “Does it matter to you? Or are you just envious of him?” Then he added while shaking his small hand as it hurt more for him then for Bjartur.
“A little bit. But I am working on it.” He looked at the smyrelven server with longing eyes as her dark lips moved, six kegs flew into the air while water flowed from behind the counter and into the kegs as she cleaned them.
“Well, maybe if you would slap her ass less, and maybe bring her some bauble you would fuck more than currently.” Then as Uld finished giving advice to his friend, he rushed out as he could not hold back the flow of tenderly burning bodily fluids.
“Finally.” Joy settled on his crude, skeletal apish face covered in thick, white fur extending into a large mane surrounding his neck blown by the rare, gentle wind of the northern night. Steam rose as the heavy snow building up at the wall melted down, escaping towards the starless night sky.
“Once again melting precious snow.” A not too deep familiar voice scared Uld for a moment, leading to the warm painting of the wall.
“Then next time I’ll direct it to you.” Uld said with a smirk on his face before the two hugged each other, with Yun’Ghahk lifting the much shorter gobokh up. Beside him, Geirhyrien watched with a mild smile that still could mellow the heart of those witnessing it. Her long snow white hair seamlessly cascaded down onto her equally white robe melding in with her skin, made of Saelvan silk. An elvish fabric possessing ethereal sheen and a crystal clear surface that appeared as soft as the snow in the southern regions of the Dhaugruz Basin. A furred cloak sat atop her delicate elven shoulders, offering warmth to every part of her body as it reached down to the snow blanketed ground.
“If you do so, aim for his mouth at least.” She added as she leaned down to embrace her friend. His tail danced passionately in the back as the sweet vanillian scent of her reached his flat, small nose.
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“Come in, the others have been waiting.” He led the two inside and at the table the same greetings took another round before they sat down.
“So are you all prepared for the week?” Yun’Ghahk asked as they got their kegs full of mead accompanied by grilled Sleipnir. “Of course, we were even talking about what could be found at the end of trial.” Bjartur spoke up while tearing off the second largest leg in the middle, chunks of spiced meat flying onto his beard.
“Probably just some pebbles left behind by some ancient seidrhaur or something.” Fram added while tearing off the bottom, placing it onto his plate barely. “At least when our grandparents made it out, they did so with shiny gems in their pockets.”
“It is true there are treasures, but not at the end, instead along the way. But I think there are still some forgotten, hidden vaults housing powerful weapons or armor left behind by our ancestors. Yun’Ghahk recalled his mother’s tales when it was her time to prove her mettle.
“Could be. But then again, she did the test to gain your father’s heart.” Uld added as being the one knowing him for the second most time besides Geirhyrien, he heard the tale recounted numerous times by Yun’s mother, the second Battle-Mate of Vro’Ghahk.
“No it is true. My parents did find some along the way in and even out.” Geirhyrien added as she herself tears off two pieces quite brutishly, an image not too befitting for an elven maiden destined to become the Volva of the Nhilna’Skholbul clan. Like an eloquent elk, she dug into the meat with an unearthly grace, her pristine teeth tainted by the grilled carcass of the Sleipnir. Her eyes blue as the pristine ice on the lakes of the frozen north stared innocently at Uld then the twins.
“Well they undertook the trial five hundred years ago. So I’m not sure much left of the treasure. Maybe on some of the corpses. But it seems like our aim is going to be finding those hidden vaults.” Fridr added as Geirhyrien gave her the last leg of the Sleipnir with a heart mellowing look on her face.
“And most of those are probably guarded by some evolved undead or monster.” Uld said not so enthusiastically while tearing a part of the Sleipnir into pieces before eating one at a time, then washed them down with his mead in between two pieces.
“I hope so.” Bjartur added, meat spraying out from his mouth as he chewed and spoke with a smile that could only be produced by him, that made everyone beside Uld chuckle a bit at the sight.
“I remember mother telling once about The Lutlatana Alfrurs haunting the lower levels close to the Bottom Stratum.” Geirhyrien face lit up as she recalled a memory from a few decades ago when she was smaller. Her mother as punishment for staying out late has told her about the Lutlatana Alfrurs, a hoelven shade haunting the ancient tomb. She recounted how it usually appeared as an androgynous hoelf, draped in equally white, translucent robes and hood.
But the closer one gets to it, its features gradually became more frightening. Eyes lacking of color and love, sunken deep into the skull. A wide smile – the result of two deep cuts curving up through the cheeks, towards the eyes of blackened crimson.
“It is said that he was one of the first of the exiles that wandered the north aimlessly, trying to find a safe haven where our kind could live and prosper in the harsh north. But he never returned, disappeared around this region two thousand years ago.” She continued, her serene, mesmerizing voice lending itself perfectly for the tale, even Danira the service girl listened on the tale with a slight fear in her red eyes.
“It is only a conjecture, but it is possible he got lost in the Dhaugh’Ostrh, dying of hunger or worse, claimed by the horrors stalking inside with an insatiable hunger.” She continued after moistening her dried up throat, her eyes wide open, darting from one to another of her friends.
“These horrors filled him with unending hatred one way or another. In his tirelessness he stalks the lower corridors, hunting for the living to wear their cadavers to escape the binding of his vile masters.” Then she quickly finished the story after Yun poked her in the side with his large index finger as the wind started picking up inside the inn, carrying an eerie coldness.
He noticed how her voice became faintly echoing as she softly whispered. Maghia infused with her voice conjuring a tender gale that chilled the backs of anyone listening onto her tale.
“How intriguing.” Uld said slowly with his usual sneering tone as his keg hit the table. A burp followed not long after.
“It is. This tale makes me wonder if we get some additional points if we hunt it down.” As Bjartur stated, his eyes wandered once more into the distance. Fridr started coughing as she gulped quite wrongly as the words poured out from him.
“I don’t think so.” She uttered hoping to not meet with the wraith of a hoelf. She heard quite a few tales as their grandmother was a firm lover of such tales and stories. She often recounted her own adventures into dilapidated ruins, where the dead never rests. Wraiths and specters often like to stalk their prey – a trait they inherited from their progenitor deity, the one who once filled the hearts of folk with the fear of finality.
“She is right. Sadly even if we subjugate the wraith of this Lulu, that won’t result in anything more than maybe a pat on our shoulders. A feast awaits us no matter if we return alive or not.” Yun added as his elder brothers and sisters already underwent this trial. Few of them ran into some creatures that were close in fame to the Lutlatana Alfrurs. Yet for their heroics, all they got was a few praising words – at least that’s what they told him.
“Shame. We should still try to find it if possible. We should not avoid a chance for glory and the thrill of fighting a formidable foe.” Bjartur added with a dejected look as he gulped down the rest of his mead. Not long after that, his right arm quickly raised in the air, signaling Danira to bring another round of the sweetened mead that warms not just the body, but the soul too.
The group continued their hearty chatter for a few more hours as the other patrons decrease. Then when there was only a few dozen left behind in the quite large establishment, they too decide to leave. Bjartur went to say goodbye to Danira, asking her like a knight that is about to enter a battle that he may not return from to wait for him. The group laughed, with only Geirhyrien noticing the smyrelves’ momentary change in expression – one filled with a tingent of worry and care.
Their laughter filled the streets of the renovated city of Hvitta-Aurrogh. The snow caved in under their steps, as Shadows hardened even in this starless night…