Morrigan Ruk Kren 'The Grinning Ghost''s Story

[Newhaven]

“Lady Rivers?”
Through the commotion Grim espied the most unlikely duo meandering the walkways of Newhaven Castle. A bloodied Crys had been gently taking to the walls, her hand outstretched to guide and balance her. She looked like she had arrived from a tavern debacle and appeared to have had quite the adventure somewhere.
Grim threw his arm up over his shoulder, the parade of aggressors hushed their rumblings at once. Still holding plenty of misgivings toward the walking contradiction. In all fairness the Blade had become weary of them as well, but his patience had proven to hold out. With any luck he could get rid of the protestors soon, they were starting to give him a headache.

Morrigan emerged from behind her blind compatriot waving her arms frantically as she did. Stumbling over her own feet as she attempted to approach her ally. Eventually crashing roughly on the floor and suffering another fit of laughter. Her giggles muffled into the stone as she slowly pulled herself from the ground.
“Why allo’ Grimsies!”
Morrigan would have swaggered right into his arms if she hadn’t slunk down and embraced his leg. Holding at his thigh like a little child, nestling comfortably. Grim looked down perplexed but reassured she was safe. Though to be honest the individual that needed help was the ex Alpha.

“Hello Morrigan, I see you’re up and running, how are you feeling?”

She clawed herself to her feet, looking up at the behemoth with her strange hazy stare. Her fingers prodding against his shoulders tapping almost rhythmically while she waited. It wasn’t long before a stream of madness spilled from her lips.
“Where, where were you!? Heavens I was looking all across Valcrest for you, big stupid jerk. You promised me dinner and a ride on the pony!”

Grim blinked a few times, slowly translating the barrage his ears just intercepted. With a sigh he pulled Morrigan from where she stood and lopped her over his right shoulder. She didn’t protest but instead looked back at the crowd that had been tailing the knight from the outset.

“None of you better be wearing pink!”

“… They gave you the good stuff didn’t they?”

Calmly he took in Crys’ presence once more. Drawing deeply, collecting his thoughts on her situation. She wasn’t looking very good, it was best he see her too the midwives’ careful hands. Besides, he was just about to return to the infirmary anyway, he had some words to exchange with Mageria.

He didn’t bother with anymore words, taking Crys’ cuff carefully. Masking the curiosity that he had about her condition. Though privately he had a few guesses, it was best he didn’t give it any words.

“Lady Rivers, if you’ll come with me I think I can get you nice visit with our healing staff. They’re not the White Rose, but they know a thing or two.”

Grim always preferred the winter. Typically among the ranks of Newhaven, spring and the summer were the preferred parts of the season. The warmth of the sun the surplus of food and physical comfort, the endless fields of grass and flowers all of it wonderful. Beautiful as it was, it was not for the Blade. The icy season was a time of renewal, when all the colors of the world were cast into a pure white. Snow that blanketed the past, offering its bittersweet embrace over old wounds. Wildlife slept and restored its strength, readying for a time when they would raise their young among the chaos of existence. Even the plant life stilled further if that was possible, daunted by nothing beneath their coverings. The world appeared to be at peace, and he liked that sense of calm.
Naturally he was alone. Though helping to keep the camp running when he could, Grim couldn’t deny the real danger of staying among them. Despite the opinions of Mageria and much of the Black Guard, the fact was that they couldn’t afford another accident like what transpired at Newhaven. They didn’t seem deterred by his presence, which did help Grim, perhaps opinions were being changed for the better.
Ultimately he camped beside himself outside of their lumber operation. Training when he could among the restricting snow, reaffirming his movement with nature’s resistance. Growing every day and eager to discover his limitations without liability. Aiding in whatever tasked required his hands, reassuring those willing to speak with him, and directing those who asked. Keeping especially careful eye on his compatriot, who was asked to stay within the encampment regardless of protest. Through Morrigan the Black Knight was kept abreast of news, not to mention she made an excellent messenger.
Today he had opted to rest, plenty of excitement had been had and he felt sure to fall into a coma if he didn’t take it easy. There was plenty to mull over, but in unusual twist, he found the scene too beautiful to fret himself with worry. What he was truly wishing for was a more definite enemy. Something he could work against with blade and vengeful wrath. Beset on all sides, the Black Knights were under attack by enemies he could not cut down. With any luck, he would get the chance to prove his valor in combat once more. Ultimately deciding that if he couldn’t cooperate for peace, he would have no other option but to make it with might and steel.
He was still debating on reinstating among the Black Knights and serving under Mageria again. There were many complications to what seemed like an obvious choice. As his own entity he had the freedom to act when his fellows could not. On the other hand Mageria couldn’t hope to protect him without his service being official. She was still a powerful voice to her people, and even with this set back, he had no doubt that Newhaven would be forced to reconsider their decision the moment trouble began brew. Newhaven was weak without her, and though Grim said nothing, all of this was likely the machinations of some masked threat. A foe unseen could only be lured out, and when the moment comes, the Raging Demon would show them the terror of the Moon Goddess.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Quietly she slipped beside him, joining with her back to the tree they were resting against. Peering out into the wondrous world beyond with idle apathy. She didn’t have to even attempt at guessing her ally’s brooding thoughts. Grim was surprisingly shallow for such an intricate Enlightened. Isolating himself to better hover on dark thoughts and wage war with his inner demons. To this day he refuses to believe his dirtied hands to be merely the work of circumstance or divine intervention. So saturated in his own mistrust it was surprising Grim functioned at all, and even more shocking that he’s determined to live out his days in service of those that cause him the most pain.
Morrigan guessed she could understand to a degree, no one could live completely alone. Maybe the only thing that kept her Warlord from leaping into an early grave, was the thought that someone, anyone, needed him for one more day.
She pulled her knees in tight. She liked the idea that anyone could walk the balance. It’s what made her infinitely greater. To be able to destroy, to love, to do as she pleased without consequence in a world that threatened her without remorse. The good, the bad, who cared as long as her belly was full and she was having fun! Sometimes she wished she could get him to see reality as she knew it. Perhaps then he’d be less concerned with the small indignities of people and their broken dreams.

“…. What’s it like?” She opened,
“ Hmmmm… I guess that depends on the nature of your question.”
“Getting your butt wet I mean. Sitting in the snow, what’s it like?”
“… Uncomfortable mostly.”

“Grim, you’ve pushed yourself to the breaking point. Please, let me help so that you can rest. Just tell me what your’re looking for and why.”
“I know you’re misgivings and feelings towards the Pack. Mageria this war has gone on long enough, and no one is taking measures to stop it. Please… would you help me?”
“What don’t I understand? What is it about me that you don’t understand? I’m a Black Knight. I have no past, I have no family, I have no reason to get up in the morning except knowing that one day I’m going to have the opportunity to lay down my life in defense of Newhaven. In battle, I’m the one on the front lines and it is always a surprise when I find myself alive afterwards.”
“For what it’s worth, I apologize. I want to see these things come to pass. I respect the Pack, but it’s becoming clear that it falls onto the people of Newhaven to set things right. I only hope we pass the test.”
“You’re ready to return home then? I’d be happy to travel with you. There’s a lot that’s happened and plenty to catch up on.”
“I’m not going back to Newhaven. I’m leaving this, all of it. The war, the Wolfpack, everything.”
“You’re a dangerous man, a threat to those who would be your ally.”
“No matter the cost.”
They were there, gathered en masse to the grand forests of his homeland. Their banners flown high, and their detest for the others higher still. Men and women marching forward to opposing factions, armies dressed for war that pushed from beyond the horizon. Newhaven and its sigil, Blackpond and their flags, even the Wolfpack, White Shadows, and Crimson Shadows had made an appearance. Splintered factions of course had joined the fray, and in the dense mass of organizations Grim had made out Salamander and Raven colors.
Each faction was in an uproar spewing words of hate for the other, calling out their respective enemies and spitting curses to the winds. Lightning flashed overhead a storm brewing in the skies. Glints of metal flashed and howls of battle echoed in the butchered lands of Valcrest.
Grim stood amidst them, panicked as he spun about on his heels. Everywhere he looked was chaos, faces that he had known to be so gentle twisted in the savage nature of war. On this day all humanity would perish beneath the indomitable violence.
“Stop this!”
Yet for his vibrato the words went unheeded, forward they charged, weapons upraised screams of murder lifted to the heavens as the mighty empires collided. Death knells and anguish, deep sadness sprung aloft ancient festering misgivings. The sins of the land too heavy as it rained down upon its children, casting them into the throes of their final gasping breath.
Grim born aloft this inevitable truth fought desperately to find a way out of the engagement. Yet he knew it was a worthless action, his worried thoughts wracking over the eventual reality that was to be his. The true origin of his bitterness, the curse, the gift, the Enlightenment instilled into his blood.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Morrigan woke with a start, her Warlord’s tension rousing her dreary mind from its nap. At first she peered confused and groggily at the Black Knight. He was cursing under his breath and gripping the snowy earth as if he was upon a rack. She quickly assured herself that a bad dream was nothing to be alarmed about and calmly went to rouse the knight from his terrors.
Her heart stopped cold when she caught illumination seeping from beneath his eyelids. Pulling a knife free from her boot she flipped herself over straddling the man and taking him firmly by the shoulders. Her eyes joining his in lighting up as an insurance against any possible outcomes, bemused some at her poor luck. Shaking the Salamander and calling out to him, not entirely sure what was going on, or if there was any real danger in the moment. Still the fear escalated when she couldn’t seem to rally him out of his strange state.
“Wake up damn you!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Grim-“ blood was spat from a full throat, “I won’t let you-“
The heavy foot of War planted itself upon her back crushing the remaining life out of her. The berserker armor was smashed and torn open, exposed flesh bleeding from many gashes. The aura of hate spilling fourth from its massive body and washing the dead with its fiery angst. Triumphant it reared back its head roaring out in foul glee.
Everything around it was destroyed, lives scattered before the nothingness, merely husks that decorated the mighty one’s work. Its rage boiling over till all in the land lay crumbled at its feet. The cries of fear and surprise, the gleeful devastation it had endured, all armed all ready to die today and so it was.
With no enemy left to face it, the magic ran its course and emptied from Grim. Leaving to wallow in the aftermath of his work, they had all been so brave. Exhausted he kneeled before those who were gone. Faces of friends and good people all surveyed in frozen dread, watching their killer with soulless glassed watchfulness. The Black Knights were torn asunder, the Wolves broken against the trees, neither had been able to contain the monstrosity for long. No poison worked, no blade seemed to cut deep enough. No Enlightenment had been a match for the champion of absolute abhorrence.
Grim gripped his hair, holding the swirling mix of sentiment that welled through him. Loss and despair, longing and bitterness, all whirling through his barely pulsing heart. Lady Rivers was lying almost peacefully beside her ally Ev, he tried to protect her and had paid the ultimate price. Jake had even managed to catch him unaware, but was crushed when War had been thrown from his feet. Set, Thomas, and Krander were chopped down in a single sweep. Hastings was beaten to a pulp against a trunk, and Chandos was ripped in halves cast unto the winds. Friends and foes, and yet not one could stop him, not one could have wished to endure the berserker’s might. All of them belonging to this mighty kingdom of rot and filth.
There were even faces Grim couldn’t place a name to. A beautiful blonde woman had expired reaching for a bow, not far from her a dark haired woman shrouded in a cloak. Both had bled out, large sections missing from their physiques the work of the Giant’s knife. Of course, Mageria had fought the longest, and died the hardest. Unwilling to give in, she had tried till at last her body could take no more. Grim pulled away unable to face his Captain where she perished.
Leaving his blade there to repose he began to venture away. There was nothing more to say or do. How could he have hoped for any other outcome? He was destruction incarnate, and there would be no peace for him. So long as he remained, so long as the gift was a part of him.“
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Morrigan nearly jumped out of her skin when Grim took her by the arm. The sudden movement had been far from expected. Her efforts up to that point had been wasted and more or less useless.
“Is something the matter?”
Morrigan sighed and hopped up from where she was. Sheathing her blade and readjusting her boot a little. More annoyed at Grim’s simple reaction then her initial concerns; she began to make her way to the camp. Grumbling quietly all the way.

Nothing entered or left the Raven’s Nest without Grim’s knowledge. Though he said nothing of the figures that walked in and out, he was sure to keep his opinion open to context. Merely taking note of late night visitors and being mindful of those that slip away. One couldn’t be too careful these days even if Mageria trusted them; Grim couldn’t count anyone whom he hasn’t personally inspected as earnest. Not that he was a great judge of character, but without someone looking out they couldn’t hope to be prepared. Even here in the Nest, they were subject to infiltration and exposed even more in the wilderness. There would be no walls to stand between them and an enemy, if somebody wanted Mageria dead, this was the place to do it. Of course, they’d have to get through Grim first.
His visits throughout the week had been less frequent, it seemed as the ensemble had pulled itself together, the settlers had started becoming accustomed to the harsher conditions. None had dared visit the Raging Demon save for his informant. She had often spent days among the Guard and listened to the heartbeat of their encampment, whispering of its moods and feelings into the Blade’s ears. Keeping him aware of situation that he may better serve his role as watchman.
Today the Salamander had opted to clean up and rework his armor a bit. One of the few instances when a Black Knight would wander the world without their obsidian plates about their frame. Leaving them to the care of the locals he returned out to his tiny camp to find Morrigan had been out all morning. Not that Grim was concerned, she had a tendency to go and do as she pleased, but he couldn’t help curiosity. With the Giant’s Knife resting on his back he ventured around the Raven’s Nest, knowing she wasn’t ever truly far.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Tres tres bien mon chere. Zis fortress iz perfect!”
“Isn’t it? Isn’t it!”
“Oui! Ze best!”
“Aww, c’mon I couldn’t have done it without you guys.”
Morrigan wrapped her arms around two crudely made snow-people. Giddy about her rudimentary snow wall. Pulling away from her crafted companions she bowed before them. Extending her hands to show off her construction and present their work as a completed project.
“Gentlemen and ladies, we have finished fortress Kren. Now we begin to build the Kren army! Who’s with me?”
Given brief pause Morrigan cupped a hand over her mouth whispering cheers and words of encouragement to herself. Then she paused, a frown tucking itself upon her lips. Her golden eyes settling on a snowman she had fitted with a dingy scarf rescued from the Raven’s Nest. Stepping down from the imagined platform she pushed passed her crowd of frozen faces. Approaching one of her creations with a sort of anger just hiding beneath her face.
“You don’t think we could do it do you?” a finger prodded the snowman, boring into its icy body.
“No I see you now, talkin’ like you know everything. Telling the workers lies, filling them with these crazy ideas. I won’t have mutiny here mister!”
Morrigan’s disappointment began to alter, metamorphosing into a smile that could cut courage from men of valor. She gently approached the pile of frozen mush. Wrapping it within her embrace, gently pushing her lips to its cheek watching the imitated bit of life with an intensity reserved for the living.
“You couldn’t handle it anyway love.”
With her weight against the snowman it collapsed and she on top of it laughing hysterically. The troublesome art now but a heap of cold on the ground, no longer would it pose any threat to those composed of flesh and blood. She pulled herself up brushing off snow from her clothes as she returned to her post. Looking out over her made-up people opening her mouth to speak when she was rudely interrupted by an onlooker.
“A public execution, wouldn’t it have been far more appropriate to imprison the troublemaker?”
The Blade had found her, playing some unusual game by herself. Not entirely surprised, but on the same hand he remained somewhat uncertain of Morrigan’s habits. It seemed the only thing that kept their friendship from hostilities was her unusual nature and pledge to do as the Warlord said. If anything her little game proved that she hadn’t become any less hostile then when he had first met her some years ago.
“Mercy is for those that like pink.”
She giggled and walked up to Grim expectant as ever and as eager to see what task he had for her today. Her hands helping themselves to pad at his exposed arms. It was a rare occasion to see Grim not trudging about behind layers of metal. He pulled his hand back rubbing them together to warm it.
“You’ve been playing around out here too long, your touch is ice. Perhaps you should sit by a fire for a bit before you damage yourself out here.”
“Oh? You mean like this?”
Grim half yelped when he felt frozen fingers touch his face, and he took off running back toward his base of operations. Behind a gleeful madwoman was pursuing hands outstretched like claws.

Some time before.
“Warlord, we have the perpetrator.”
Grim shifted to face his fellow Salamanders his eyes could not betray their curiosity. Their rations had been mysteriously vanishing and gear had been silently slipping away in the dead of night. Yet no one could figure out just exactly where they were going, that was until till today.
She was ragged and seemed barely alive, rail thin and meager she hardly struggled in their hold. Yet there was something about the way she glowered up to the Blade that caught his attention. Those golden eyes fierce and pallid with no remorse or regret, they were fascinating. One tiny young girl had given them so much grief, an encampment made up of proud and prudent warriors. Grim couldn’t help but feel… awed by her tenacity at least.
“Is that so?” he began. Striding purposefully toward their latest catch, a scarecrow of a child out in the middle of nowhere. They hadn’t encountered a settlement in days, and yet she had managed to not only seek them out, but hide among them for some time. Grim was toying with an idea, and soon hoped that little kindness might get him and his men far from the empty wastelands they were marching through.
“Do you know this land well? Perhaps we could come to some sort of agreement. You look like you could use some food and a good night’s rest, and we need someone to lead us out of here. What say you?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Departing from Luckas and the returning Mageria, Morrigan set to Valcrest forest. Searching for her lost ally, knowing the terms of his disappearance to be unlike him and saying nothing to those that might have helped. For she preferred to walk her own path, and follow whatever whimsy may catch her at the moment.
The great forest stretched forever beyond the horizon it’s once livid and vibrant hues dulled in the winter. The shadows beneath their branches were darker, and the ground was difficult to travel. There was a cold pure scent on the wind, and those who touched it knew the wet chill of the snow. Most would be bitter about the weather, but Morrigan didn’t experience its icy touch. She only moved on careless to direction looking for signs of the Warlord among the expanse of white. The shadows of winter overlooking a lonely figure among its livelihood, wandering lost among the endless bodies of grey and white.


Some time before.
Soif folded her arms, watching off in the distance ignoring Morrigan’s threats and allowing her ravings to stop before answering.
“He will be killed, your Warlord. Nyx said she saw it in the winds, and we both know what that means.”
Morrigan sheathed her knife, sliding it carefully back into the folds of her robes. Her eyes never leaving the intruder while she circled around her.
“You lie.”
“Do I?”
Soif laughed quietly to herself, she could play this game for hours. Anything to get under Morrigan’s skin.
“You’ve gotten attached to these Salamanders haven’t you? Well you might as well give it up, they’ll all perish. Unless of course you’re willing to make a deal yes?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The trails had led to nowhere and while tracking in the wet earth would seem easier, it was near impossible in the overcast of the trees. Morrigan knelt scooping up the cold into her fingertips, turning the slush about examining the bits of sedimentary that appeared once the ice had melted.
Somewhere a bird called catching her ears, strange that it would still be here but then she didn’t pretend to possess any experience with wildlife. It was time to move on from here anyway, daylight wouldn’t last forever, and it was best she find her Warlord before night settled in.
She bit her tongue at the sudden pain that took her shoulder. An arrow was buried into flesh, leaving a fresh trail of blood dribbling down her arm and leaving crimson droplets where she stood. The shaft was removed easily enough, and with her Enlightenment in tow she lessened the bleeding. Knife drawn and ready she held her ground even when the cloaked men emerged from the shadow. Among the beautiful woman with raven hair, her eyes fixed upon Morrigan with all knowing gaze.
“Morrigan, how lovely, the missing piece finally shows herself. You know this land, it’s not very friendly but if Valcrest has one thing going for it. That would be its excellent source of mercenaries and contract killers. I should wa-“

The Grinning Ghost had heard enough and she rushed forward with her dagger at the ready. Of course the cloaked men came out in force, five strong bodies that held her back and disarmed her within seconds. Soif shook her head, returning to her pleasant conversing as if she had never been interrupted.
“You always were impulsive. It’s too late though my estranged friend. You were dead the moment you stepped into the forest.”
Morrigan struggled against their grips but she couldn’t hope to break free. She kicked and bit and twisted by they had her shoved to the ground in an instant. Pressing her face to the dirt, a few boots at her back, she couldn’t escape.
“Saoif! Phtew! You’re no one you freak! You faceless freak, lieing on the belly of some other woman’s face. Gets lonely being nobody doesn’t it?!”
Soif scowled and lowered herself to meet Morrigan. Her eyes had grown cold and the lukewarm act she had put on for the reception had faded entirely. She grasped Morrigan by her hair, yanking her head up that they might face another.

“You took everything away from me you spoiled sewer rat. You betrayed us, you abandoned us, and for what? The life of one stupid, whiney, miserable excuse of a warrior I’ve never seen such a thing like it before. An Enlightened so worked up about himself that he can’t see the obvious things going on around him. A miserable character, but you chose didn’t you?
Don’t fret Morrigan, you two won’t be separated for long.”


Some time before.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Grim, this isn’t a game. You don’t have the Enlightenment out here to protect you. Blake already agreed to the procedure. All we have to do is visit Nyx and get it finished.”
The Warlord pondered for a moment, rubbing his chin idly.
“The men need to know, I have to be honest with them.”
“No! The body double would be pointless then. We do this discreet, just the three of us.”
“You’re sure this is necessary? I highly doubt Wolves would journey this far out just for me.”
Morrigan sighed and shook her head sympathetically.
“I- We can’t risk it. You will see, Nyx can make Blake into you. She possesses talent, a magic you don’t know. Trust me my Warlord.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grim could hardly believe his eyes when Mageria stopped him in the depths of Valcrest forest. At first he had been aggressive and ready to fend off any advance she could possess. Yet, she didn’t come this way to even argue with the Blade, far graver news had reached her ears, and it was imperative that he hear. Of course he listened, but he could hardly believe the words that were coming out from his former captain’s mouth.

“A trap, this all seems awful elaborate for the Wolves. They’re assassins, for them to go to these lengths to pit you against me just seems… excessive.”
Mageria nodded, “Every world of it is true Grim. What’s worse they took Morrigan. Left a note for you to find back at your camp, we’ve got to stop them. Morrigan is too important to lose.”

“We’ve not a moment to lose Mageria, lead the way.”

She had turned with the Blade just behind her. Leading them deeper into the forest, yet she had hardly taken a few steps when a forceful blow threw her into the cold ground. Her back ached and she whimpered from the pain, trying to crawl away but the sheer weight of Grim came down onto her. His boot planted firmly into her back.
“You know,” The blade started in.

“It’s far too unusual to see a Black Knight outside of their armor. The Goddess knows Mageria will likely be buried in her suit. To see her not only track outside of the camp but approach a possible enemy without her armor is impossible…
Also, Morrigan works for me and me alone, she doesn’t use her. For her to be so vital just isn’t believable. Also… my sister fears no enemy, and she wouldn’t seek me out to fight Wolves. She would be knee deep in battle right now. So, who are you?”

The faux captain said nothing, but soon found her back being pressed squeezing the air from her lungs. She struggled for air, clawing wildly at the snow as her body freaked out. When the pressure was relieved she gasped desperate for relief.
“I’ll ask again, who are you?” The voice from above her sounded. She wouldn’t respond, it would all unravel if she did. Then immense agony, the Giant’s Knife drove into her back. The heavy weapon caused heavy hemorrhaging but the tip sank easily into the flesh. She sputtered painfully and spat the mixed vomit and blood from her mouth.

“Where is Morrigan?”

The blade swiveled churning the wound rocking back and forth inside her body. Soif screamed her Enlightenment dropping instantly her focus spent. The raven haired woman just beneath the guise as Mageria was revealed. When the pivoting stopped she allowed her muscles to fall, flattening against the cold dragging every bit of air into her lungs that could squeeze through the fluids.

“A few miles south, a l- cle-blech, clearing.”

No sooner had the last sound passed her lips when she breathed no more. The Giant’s Knife pushing its way through, ending the already doomed Soif, speeding her descent into the darkness beyond. An act both merciful and ruthless but the Blade had always been a sort of contradicting type, and the killing of an enemy was hardly an excuse to reflect on his action. They had Morrigan, and though it was likely he was walking to a trap, there was no time and no other option.


Some time before.
“All Salamanders give an oath upon officially joining. Each must create the terms of their Oath and if the Warlord accepts you are brought into the ranks. It’s a bit strange, but he feels this is the best way to strengthen the group. Do you understand?”
“We create the Oath were sworn to?”
Chandos nodded, and lead Morrigan into the tent. Grim was hovering over a map sitting on a rotting barrel, downed as usual in his armor he was like a great black tower. A giant of legend black as night and terribly and inspiring to behold. When he took notice of Morrigan and the now grinning Chandos he couldn’t help but smile.
“So you decided you wanted to become one of us? I’m glad, Chandos stand guard will you?”
Once everyone was in position there came a silence as thick as syrup. It was bittersweet for the Warlord had wanted their mercenary to become one of them, but she seemed unhinged at times. Most feared the Ghost and with good reason, she was at best psychotic and even if her talents were excellent she was a danger. Yet, he saw something in her just beneath the veil of madness, what exactly was anyone’s guess.
Now they were here standing in a shoddy tent and awaiting an oath that required one to make up the terms. A creative idea though not entirely practical yet it had served the Salamanders well in the past. Allowing for the careful selection of its members.
“This I swear by my true name. Let my lord and I be one, that though my lord and I may fight.
Any who fight my lord fight me.
That our blood be family.
That we be beyond family by blood.
In Winter let me warm you.
In Spring run with me.
In Fall Let me bleed for you.
In Summer laugh with me.
I will answer only to the Oath for a year and a day. So I swear by my true name.”
Grim blinked a few times, it was quite far from what was considered regular. There were bits that seemed too personal and others impersonal. It was odd, but Grim agreed, giving a nod of his head. Officially welcoming Morrigan to his ranks.
Chandos at the door clapped and entered immediately, having listened in and watched from just beyond the doorway. A guard wasn’t really necessary it was more tradition and a clever way to avoid interruption. For an Oath impeded upon was an Oath that felt insincere.
“Great! I have just the thing for you to do Morrigan. There’s been some nasty business reg-”
She shook her head, “My Oath belongs to the Warlord alone.”
Chados was hushed by her reaction, and he scowled at her. Grim couldn’t help but laugh.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a poorly crafted chair sitting in the woods. Bound to it the form of a body, and though Grim didn’t have to guess, he found himself hesitating to approach it. Nervousness had taken him, though he had guessed an ambush. The signs here were screaming something far more dangerous, the chair with the damsel strapped to it, it was such an obvious ploy. Far too obvious for comfort, whoever was running this operation was clever, and possessed a talent for tricks and traps. There was no hope of the Black Knight outsmarting whatever was waiting. The only thing he could hope for was that he had the might to overcome what was waiting.
He took a single step, the bottom of his boot crunching in the snow. That was all that was needed and he was set upon by five individuals downed in heavy cloaks. Grim was too slow to react and they were upon him in seconds and surprisingly he found them uninterested attacking any conventional way. They were pushing him about, dodging his swings but keeping their weapons tucked away.
Grim knew this strategy, they were wearing him down. Trying to the tire the Blade before they made their move, but this would not be today. Leaping from the swarming strangers he brought his blade in a great horizontal swing forcing the cloaks back away from him. Here he got a good look at what he was facing. Sizing up these strangers, their patterns were quickly discovered for their insignia was the wolf.
Grim cursed his luck, alone a single Black Knight could not hope to overcome five contract ready Wolves. These were not Blackpond soldiers, these were not typical men and women. These were clever killers on the same level if not beyond the Black Knights, two factions that were feared in this land.

“Your patron is already dead Wolves, if you leave now we won’t have to come to blows.”

They said nothing, just began to circle around their prey. They were professionals and likely were already paid for whatever task was set upon them. Just because their employer was dead didn’t mean the job was done, and there was a personal code to be upheld. Grim stood his ground, the Giant’s Knife at the ready but he knew the score and so did they. All he could hope for was draw, and that didn’t look to be likely.

They swept in incredibly fast even with the snow. Though his blade swung wide and forced them back for some time they were quickly past his defenses. A scratch etched itself under Grim’s arm, it was hardly enough to do much more then jolt his Enlightenment, but it seemed enough. For he brought his elbow back fast enough to catch the Wolf across the nose and send him rolling along the ground.
The Black Knight rushed the foe he downed, what luck for the cloak couldn’t get up fast enough. The snow allowed no traction and his hands couldn’t grasp anything to pull him to his feet. The Wolf was soon uprooted and tossed back earthward. Grim planted a boot on his chest pinning him to the floor and was amazed to find the other assassins watching idly, helpless to aid their friend.
He seemed puzzled, why weren’t they attacking him? Surely he wouldn’t have caught this one if the others had come in to help. Even now the unfortunate Wolf he had captured wasn’t clawing at his leg he was laying there stupefied, watching with heavy fearful breaths passing through the hood.

“What’s the matter? Can’t hurt me?”

It occurred then why that would be. They knew exactly who Grim was, whatever their job they knew the Raging Demon would be involved and he would be armed this time. To deliver any kind of true blow would only hasten their death. Grim glanced down to his prisoner, watching the white smoke lifting from the cloak. They were scared, but they were professionals. Grim had to admire their capacity for their work. They were worthy adversaries indeed.
He drove the Giant’s Knife through the cloak’s throat, severing the head from the body. When he looked up only one of the other Wolves recoiled, the other three moved in. Again they were back at it, Grim swinging and them dodging trying to get in under his attempted attacks. The dance that spread them over the small clearing, large swaths of snow pushed and pulled as they went about.
In the thick of it another scratch, then another, the magic pumped in but never did he fall into the full rage. They were meager but they gave Grim a bit of a rush and he used it to his advantage. One more across the knuckles and he swung in tossing a Wolf against a tree. Its cry cut short once it collided against the bark, bits of snow falling from the lower branches to blanket its body. The three assassins that were still on their feet took off, vanishing into the thick of the forest. Whatever they had set out to do was accomplished, and there was no more reason to engage the Warlord.
He approached the remaining cloak and spent no time to discuss, they weren’t going to talk anyway he had seen Wolves interrogated. The Giant’s Knife cut down the assassin with one blow. In the aftermath of this short battle, Grim found he was fearful if not confused. In a straight battle he would have lost, but they insisted on not invoking his Enlightenment, to the point of losing two of their own. In fact the only damage they had done was minor.
It didn’t matter, he had won and Morrigan was safe. Soon they would be on their way home and they could exchange their tale with some fellows back in the camp. Perhaps even Mageria would be willing to reminisce on some their greater achievements in the prime of the Black Knights. If they were lucky a drinking game and cards would soon follow.

He drew near cautious but swiftly, yet there was no movement from the chair. His hopes sank some but he knew Morrigan well. Reminding himself that she was sly and a feigned death would keep the Wolves from her. The shape shifter was clever but Grim had won the day.
The chair was covered in old dark stains, and tied to it at the wrists his friend waited. Yet even with his prompting she didn’t respond. At first he shook her gently, calling her by name. Quickly he escalated, fear instilling itself deep within. It couldn’t be, he had saved Morrigan, yet she did not move. It was surely a trick, but the truth couldn’t be ignored. The foam at the mouth, the expressionless release that left her scarred face. She was gazing skyward somewhere far from this world. So far away, where he couldn’t reach her.

“Morrigan! Wake up! It’s me, it’s Grim.”

No one answered; all time seemed to end here. Spanning out into endless chasm as surmounting sadness took hold. He had failed, and in so doing he had gotten her killed. The reality and how it ached. There would be no comfort here.
Cutting the bonds he pulled her into his arms, resting his head to hers. Drawing to her tightly, helplessly, desperate and uncontrolled begging for her to awaken, to do anything but lay so limply in his embrace. All the warmth left her some time ago. The internal pain burned endlessly, and in his heart he knew but didn’t wish to believe.

“I’m so sorry.”

Carefully he brushed her bangs aside, swallowing hard trying his best to regain control. To withhold the sorrow that bore through him. To push aside the overwhelming tides of doubt.

“It’s alright now, I’ve got you. I won’t let you go.”

The words were barely whispered, rasped with the uncontrollable sobbing. In the still of the night no one would answer the prayer of a frantic man. Only having what he could hold, and holding onto what he wanted all along. Nothing her inheritance, and nothing his gift. Only the fall of snow onto the broken.
Cradled in his arms he carried her as far from the scene as he could bear. The seeping poison working its way through his blood and taking the strength he could muster slowly. When at last his legs refused to press on he knelt carefully down and lay against a great tree.
He couldn’t hold on to her anymore. Try as he might he couldn’t keep Morrigan to him. The numbness that filled his arms shutting out control. Fighting as hard as he could, he grit his teeth in futility, as slowly the weight began to take his arms down. He fought, but for such a mighty man he hadn’t anything left. His breaths were sharper and shallow and desperate for the air. He was soon drenched in sweat, and a bitter taste clung in his mouth. So he swallowed hard, and looked to her one last time. It was so strange, she seemed finally at rest. Peaceful…
Just before his eyes slipped closed, he could have sworn he heard someone running up to him. Though their voice was far away, he thought it familiar.

“You’re going to be alright Grim, just hang on.”