Rinsan Forest
Underground
That was not wise... Too much energy... Thinking... hard...noise...
-What now Mr wizard sir?- a silence heavier than anything before blankets the chamber Nidia waits with abated breath, all sound of the battle ceased, sweat, cold and clamy runs her back, in the tense air her voice echoes... Now or never... - You agreed, so please, do something I want to know that my friends will have your help, yes? - time to pull the damsel trick, if this guy was so confident in her own lack of a threat then she maybe can dupe him in...
A new sound... A grating sound of metal on metal came from the wall across the chamber, were a section dislodged itself, a nerve wracking eternity later the slide grinded to a halt, all the while she keep her blade straight and ready while her heart dances in her throath, then nothing, only utter darkness... With a start, Nidia realized that the only sound are her teeth chitting, one, two heartbeats go by and with a final nod, she stalks the lenght of the place, eyes uselessly darthing, hoping that wathever trick or trap ver captor has she can counter...
The air shifts, and an unrush of smells assault her, fresh soil, old leaves, the smell of forest, and for the first time in this nightmare of a night she feels some hope, the darkness ahead menacing and enticing and the same time, a darkness sudenly punctured by a gosthly light, with yet another gasp Nidia finds herself face to knee with the odd chittering critter, waiting? It has to be, for when she found herself within a meder of it another whirring sound came and the thing scampered away in its own... A black blurr, punctuated by the weird lights atached to it's sides, not enough to give meaningfull details of the surroundings, more like an effort to highlight the creepiness of the place... But it was moving, and for better or worse that was the only good clue of an exit...
The hall or wathever it was proved to be actually short, roughly twenty meders at most, the ceiling and walls hidden in shadows, here and there chunks of stone and dirt littered the way, at one point Nidia could catch a lingering wafft of burned wood and something that reminded her of a blacksmith shop, but otherwise the air in this place was as still as a tomb... With her hackles never setting down and her weapon at the ready she walked all the way until she found a big mound of dirt, big enough to block almost all the hallway, almost being the operative word here, for in the space between dirt and the odd pale stone of the walls she found a crack, or maybe a roughly hewn tunnel, a bit shy of the meder and half high, wide enough to walk or crawl trough, just like her "guide" was doing, just when she was weighting her options all light desappear in a turn of the path...
In the utter darkness Nidia crawls her way, as fast as her wounds and the common sense allows, but after a few meders that felt like kilomeders, all her fear banishes with the first draft of real air, the cold and musty brezze of the winter forest fills her lungs, and for the first time in her live Nidia blesses with all the stars that knife like sensation in her pale skin, a plume of vapour escapes her, a goffy grin overtakes her face, and her ears pick up not only the faint sounds of the sleeping forest, but the more than welcome earthy sounds of voices and clatering of metal...
Rinsan Forest
Battlefield
Corporal Ostribide was having a really odd moment, first of all she was aching all over, a living breathing bruise if that was possible, more important, she was looking down on a downed monster, trying to make heads or tails of this whole mess, her mind not at all catching up with her body who in this very moment keeps laughing and grunting as her good arm batters the fallen enemy with a branch, she has been at it for good five minutes now, kneeled in the blood soaked mud, laughing and cursing at the body, but yet again the more astounding fact, the one that somehow keeps bouncing in her mind...
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I'm aliveeeee!
-...poral! Corporal da ya heer me!- a jolt of pain as her shoulder gets griped marks the end of Ostribide maniatical laugther -Ahk! Watch it you numbskull, I heard you- With a mighty effort the Corporal raise, one of the soldiers at her side clutching at a wounded arm himself, a glancing blow otherwise the arm will be littering the forest but still enough to draw blood, a grin half smug half surprised plastered in his face -good 'was 'fraid ya a goner- with a nod the soldier rumagged in his belt producing a small flask half full in an amber liquid - 'miracle this made trough eh?- with a practiced ease the soldier removes the cork, eyeing his superior he offers a swig -Nah, we just escaped death once today, not gonna push my luck with that rotgutt of yours- the words are harsh, but there was no ill will, the very fact that the little bottle and her contents were a clear breach in the regimental law yet were shamelessly displayed was just one of the many little ways in wich the surviving officers and soldiers keep some kind of sanity, the break of moral was a far worse thing in the opinión of the command.
- Frayer 'ooking fer ya- said the soldier after a hefty swig- better go find 'im before 'e turns this blasted forest upside down-
With an almost shrug both soldiers turned aside, limping their way to the place were the battered remains if their platoon mulled over, amongst them a towering figure gives orders in a cold and straight way, only pausing when what is probably the last surviving lantern bathes the two straglers in its light. Ostribide let a smirk creep in her face, with his almost two meders height and shoulders broad as they come, Franc did make for the classical image of a warrior or hero of yore, shame that the man itself has taken the famed scruffines of the gaeffin of old to an art form, a beard rough and tough, tatoos of his ancestors deeds in heach arm, and a criss cross of scars marring his face, the only hint of a upbringing better than a tug his almost erudite voice, thundering all the same while giving orders or reciting the Old sagas besides the campfire...
-Ah, corporal- says the man with a somewhat respectfull nod aimed at the officer- make it in one piece I see-
-indeed- a simple nod in return, while glancing at the man handywork- Good to see you keeping the men together Franc, last thing we need is losing ourselves in this dammed cold forest, altought at this point I was almost expecting that all of us will be shaking hands with our ancestors in the Great Beyond-
- True- with a shrug and a somewhat miffed expresión the man looks around- and what a sight will that be, the thirty of us walking proud from the dusk into the hallways of champions, laying our lives for fellow and country, truth be told, I feel almost cheated, when will we found a better chance?- I will laugh you off, if I didn't know that you mean it...
-I don't mind makin' ma ancesters wait 'nother day if I hav' a said-
A little round of jeers and laughs break among the gathered men, as some voice their less than pious opinion about the soldier ancestors and the like, while some others call and brag about their personal share of glory in the last skirmish
Great Ostribide eyes what remains of the platoon, battered and tired in the brink, but not broken...yet... She keeps breathing swallow, the dull pain almost overwhelming, maybe the men will accept her fainting in the spot, but her pride will not allow it, and so, she grits her teeth steeling herself for what is next- So, break it for me who we lost this time?-
-Ah yes- straightening up the soldier brush aside the brief moment of levity- Aaton, Bert, Bossie, Caedfal and Fraenk- the odd enphasis in the last name, same as his and a very common name in the plains were both soldiers came - thats for the old platoon, we also lost two of the new recruits, Aston Ostrivy, and Bern Leadwrit, along those two guys we picked up from the militias, I loathe to admit that I never catched their names, and... well one of the twins...-
Damn, ten men in less than five minutes... Wait?- Wich one, Salo or Maro?-
- I cannot tell I'm afraid- with a short gesture the man points to a little group of laying figures- the other one has been wounded, and in his state I can but guess at wich is wich...-