Road into Laeral

Hollow footsteps traced the ash seared ground. Body cold yet skin unfeeling to the gasping breaths of a dying breeze. Everything was dead. She stood naked in the failing sunlight, everything a shade of gray. Golden eyes peirced in the mottled landscape, alone in their own briliant color yet weary with exhaustion. Steady breathing slipped in and out yet she could not feel the own rise and fall of her chest or the air slipping through her nostrils. Hands clenched on a bleached white skull, ornate tusks curling from the upper jaw as a single flaw stretched across it. Another dead and gone. It fell from her fingers even when she was unaware of its touch, breaking on the ground at her feet. A glance down revealed her sole were on broken and scattered bnes. Clouds obscured the day. Silence ruled everything and muted the sounds of her own life. Before her lay Gia, broken and defeated. Lost.

Movement swept around behind. Figures, shadows they all seemed the same here. Her eyes turned to follow them, searching for life in the path of death. Blank faces met her sight and she turned. Rows of children, faces erased to blank slates and stretching out like fields of wheat. They faced her yet no eyes matched hers. Something was in her hands again, head dipping she looked at smoke gray hands covered in a black fluid that stained her skin. Nestled between her hands was an infant. Even with its limbs missing it seemed to writhe and cry, no sound to be given. Bloody tears slipped past snow white cheeks, even the blood seemed black. The clanking of chains muttered in the distance and her head turned towards it, hands dropping the baby gone and forgotten.

The chains clanked a second time, closer but always just out of sight. She turned and her golden eyes found a shadow. Humanoid in form though dark, head and body twisted to the shape of some kind of dragonoid. The dark black slithering away to show dirty crimson, the color of dried blood. Its lowered head rose, red eyes glaring from within its skull, hands lifted before it as a long coiled chain swung without the touch of wind. Her eyes dropped lower to see talons on its feet, and beneath those rested the mutliated body of Talik. Following it down the one body changed to that of a child and then a family, the farther down she looked the more bodies piled beneath it. The chain clanked a third time and she felt it.

The cold kiss of an edge gliding around her neck the edge gently itching her flesh, yearning for it to twitch or move across it. She heard only the intake of her breath as the hook jerked through her neck...

---

Illeyssa let her eyelids slip open as she exhaled. The cold air greeting her as her body shivered. Eyes looking dully at the casting stones before her. She had delved deeply this time, her body slow to wake from her walk on the other side. She slowly became aware of a presence to her right and turned, eyes lifting up to the smooth and concerned face of Silvyar. She read the face of her apprentice for a moment, noting the shiver in the girl's skin from the lack ow warmth, hands wrapped across her chest, fingers curled tightly with worry.

"I was walking for that long, huh?" She spoke without need of an answer and glanced up to the backs of her guard.

Gormun and Brack, two brothers who were skilled and strong. They had been under her watch since they were boys, still learning of her abilities when Gia wasn't just a bad dream. Both had grown strong in their time, their tusks sprouting from their mouths were wide and strong, Brack's left missing its curved tip from a fight. Their forms were in treated skins, a thick leather strap pulled diagonally across their shoulder. Gormun, the eldest and slightly taller of the two, had a wide sheath attached to it, the handle of his make-shift claymore waiting for his green skinned hand. Brack's had no sheath only a strap, wrapped around and supporting the a war hammer and battle axe, both smaller than normal but ready to be wielded one in either hand. Both stood watching ahead, and would have for as long as she was in her Premonition State, for it was punishable to glance upon her body when she was not fully in this world.

Illeyssa exhaled calmly and stretched out her left hand to sweep up the stones, moving them into their familiar cloth bag and placing the string back around her neck. Silvyar rose just before she did, slender arms helping her up though she did not need it. The girl meant well, though she was nervous, her face and actions clear enough about that. She was the youngest apprentice yet only she was asked to follow her in this travel. Still a year or two under her second decade, she was the only apprentice to even show a spark in the skill of premonitions.

"Silvyar. Do you know where we are?"

"We are in the Jurial Planes, near a place known as Laeral, Shawoman." The girl's voice was direct, almost like a soldier answering an officer, though it didn't take a sharp mind like Illeyssa's to read the respect in it.

"So we are..." Illeyssa didn't smile though she stretched a bit, feeling the physical attachment of her body to her mind once more, and the cold feel in the air drifting on her skin. Motioning for the other to her side she walked up to her two guards, soft fingers resting on the tall shoulder of Gormun, "It is time to move on to the town Gormun... Where is Durmond?"

"I do not know Shawoman. He moved off as you walked the planes of foresight." The tall orc looked at her then, eyes looking just below her own gaze, not wanting to show challenge to her authority.

"I see."

She nodded her head and moved past, Silvyar barely a step behind her as the brothers moved into their places, the younger at the front the older in the back, both drawing their weapons as eyes searched for unknown danger.

Forest, Somewhere near the Terra Mountain Range

The Deep Human slowly relaxed, dropping the arrow from the string and returning it to its place in the quiver. She turned and watched as the Halfling and Orcs ran on for a moment, considering the corporal’s offer as she slung the longbow over her shoulder. Shrugging her shoulder and feeling the location of her equipment she jogged after them, catching up and taking the lead, head bent slightly, as if to observe the ground before her, hiding her face from the others seeing the crimson growing stronger in her eyes.

In a moment she paused, “This place we are going… Is directly ahead?”

The Halfling seemed a bit perplexed… maybe upset? It seemed that in his mind he suspected something of her. A quick glance at either orc or earned her own glance, keeping her eyes hidden by some hair that had fallen over her face.

“Yes, it should be just ahead.”

“Maybe, I should cover our tracks, since I have no ideas of where we are going.” She turned and walked past them and stood to the side, watching them until the Halfling resigned to turn around and lead his two orc companions back on their way. Waiting for a while she glanced at the woods before following, taking up a pace just behind them as she followed them through the forest.

---

Yanis moved on through the forest a small scowl on his face. For a moment he was sure the Deep Human might have been the one that was with the Children. But when she stopped and asked for directions it was some-what clearer she may be the most honest one of the bunch. The two orcs though… What in the world was a Shawoman? Wasn’t the term a Shaman, despite the gender? And this premonition business, it didn’t hold water. Once he got to the tower he’d get some of the men there to restrain and interrogate them. It wasn’t far now, just beyond those trees.

He pushed slightly ahead of the orcs and broke into the clearing, slowing down a bit to gaze proudly at their scout tower, its reinforced form stretching into the sky, looking out across the land to report any business of the Children. The Ballistae on top ready to fire and looking out over three directions to remove any possible threat that approached. Clenching his one hand into a fist he silently cheered and pushed on for the tower, the sooner he gave out the warning the better. As he drew closer, something seemed wrong with what he saw. Pulling back into a walk he took a few steps then stopped. Peering out it looked as if the door to the tower was open. Were they shifting positions?

He took a few more steps and stopped dead. Inside he could make out dark forms across the floor, something clinging around their bodies. Not here… Was I too late? He took a step back and bumped into the tall form of one of the Orcs. He felt an anger boiling inside them as he turned, ”You! What did you and your cohorts do—“

The shout died in his throat.

Emerging from the trees behind them came white robes. Yet there wasn’t a handful or even a couple. What first seemed like ten quickly rose to much more. His skin began to drain of warmth and blood as he turned around, white cloaks appearing from within and around the tower and encircling them. There had to be at least a hundred!

Then he heard something that froze his heart in ice, eyes drawing to the top of the tower as his body shook with primal fear. A small dragon beat its great wings twice and dropped to the top of the tower, its form cracking apart a ballista as pieces fell from the tower. A lance of pure white streaked across the sky illuminating black scales. It rose up, and let lose a feral roar right as the thunder struck but the Halfling seemed to know, the dragon was louder.

Yanis felt his lips tremble and began to mumble a curse before he felt something strike him in the back of the head. Corporal Yanis of the special forces dropped dead, face frozen in pure despair, with the shaft of an arrow buried through the back of his skull.

---

Dracon dropped the long bow, hands moving mechanically as she reached over her shoulders, slender fingers wrapping around the hilts of her blades. The sapphire in her eyes almost completely drowning in the deep pools of fiery crimson that took over. Before her the only survivor from the ambush collapsed as the orcs turned to look where he fell and began to spin around in shock. A cold smile spread across her lips as her arms jerked forwards, wrists flicking as she threw the blades just as they cleared their sheaths, metal blades dancing end over end. The pair had turned towards her then, the one holding the great sword roaring in challenge as the shorter of the two began to raise his war hammer and battle axe over his head. Neither noticed the blades until they struck, one burrowing in the knee of the great sword wielder, the other driving almost clean through the dual wielder’s right elbow.

The impact startled the pair, leaving room as Dracon crossed the ground, eyes burning intently as the Children of Fire watched around them. Her left foot kicked up the long bow as she approached, left hand casually waiting as it snatched up its grip once more. She had closed the gap then, right hand dropping to grip the end of the bow as she approached Gormun, his sword in the mud, hands holding himself up as he tried to recover from the shock of being able to use his left leg from the knee down. All the warrior had time for was to look up into her frozen scowl as she swung the longbow across his head, the sturdy weapon shattering as it dropped him cold.

The roar of her second opponent tipped her off for the attack as she dropped low to the ground, left hand pressing into the damp, rain soaked earth as her right drew the short sword at her side. The presence of the heavy war hammer sailing over where she once had been. Standing up she turned, holding the weapon in reverse, crossed just below her neck as she faced off against Brack. The infuriated orc, ignoring the pain of his useless right arm as his left jerked the battle awe from its grasp. Throwing away caution and reason he charged, raising the weapon over his head as she stood before him.

Just as he stepped within striking distance she ducked, rolling her left shoulder forwards, her body following the motion as feet turned on the earth, dropping inside his reach as the battleaxe cleaved through open air. Her back to his, just under his hunched form her head jerked back, breaking his nose and stunning the large foe to prevent him from locking her in an embrace with his remaining arm. The orc stumbled away as she turned, blade racing across and up in a single spin.

She stood with her back to him again, arms resting at her sides as his head began to lean back, shoulders following until the body toppled over. Without much care for where it fell she dropped the blade to the ground. The drizzle grew stronger into true rain and she looked at her audience, eyes bathed in pure crimson as black forms pushed through the crowd. The figures walked on two legs though they looked as if they were dragon in nature, forms as black as the dragon atop the tower. They drew close to her as one carefully raised a helm before her. Its form was long, carefully crafted for a war that was long past, the surface a dull crimson, the color of blood. The mithril helm felt good in her hands once more as she donned the helm, crimson eyes gleaming out of draconian slits.

Dracon motioned for her soldiers to follow her, the other pair carrying the rest of her sacred armor.

---

As the four figures moved inside the tower, the Children of Fire began to gather outside, making room as a score of black dragons began to glide from the sky to land. Lightning pierced through the heavens again as the rain began to pick up, thunder booming like war drums into the night.

Outskirts to Laeral

The small town and the glowing lights of the few remaining places that remained awake within glowed calmly in the distance when Illeyssa stopped on the road. Her head turning to the left and watched out at the shadows of the sleeping wilderness and fields. Her apprentice drew up to her shoulder on the right and stopped, the guard behind as well as the youngest brother trailed ahead five more steps before he halted. Each Orc frozen in place as she gazed over every shadow that grew wise the rise of night fall. The faint glimmer of stairs budding on the dark canvas of the sky, the small trickle of moonlight pooling on the edge of the horizon. Her golden eyes rested on one curious shadow for a moment, determined to draw out whatever was there. Then another rose up, far to her right, pulling itself from a place no shadow existed and approached.

Her eyes moved to it with a hurried glance, picking out vague details as the thing drew closer. A beast of dark black, its form large and muscular, head bent low to the ground as two gleaming red eyes looked up at her. All four legs walking on the ground with little effort as its moves seemed natural and fluid. The creature drew close and stopped, head lifting up displaying its height without fear as its shoulders stood slightly higher than her waste. Silvyar looked over Illeyssa's shoulder as the great Worg sat down and yawed, eyes regarding the Shawoman.

"There are no animals close to here." The voice materialized from the shadows as quickly as the body.

Illeyssa felt her mind flinch but her body showed no reaction. She felt a hand tighten on her arm, her apprentice clearly spooked by the arrival of the last member of their party.

Dormund stood tall and proud, much like his other three Worgs that trailed behind him. Thick black hair lay tangled and tied in large sections, pieces of leather and worg fangs mixed within it. His face was broad and thick, broad cheek bones and slightly sunken eyes, large tusks protruding from his jaw, curved upward with thick cracks and pieces missing from it. He stood two heads taller than her, though his eyes showed no superiority only deep traces of devotion and respect. His form was thick with muscle, skin deep gray-green stitched with scars across his shoulders and chest. He looked a lot like his father, Talik, and his skills as a hunter were arguably even better. Of all of her guards, he was certainly the most formidable with the instincts much like the Worgs that followed him.

"What of your walk on the plains?" He moved beside her left shoulder, slightly behind to be equal with Silvyar, his Worgs dispersing all save the first that approached her, dark forms that watched just out of their sight.

Illeyssa began their procession forwards once more, each Orc in their respective place, her head looking forwards again, "Once we have a room or a safer place to rest I will tell you of what I saw... This is not the place or time to remain with the elements."

Forest, Former Scout Tower

He was on a hard surface, arms bound behind him, skin raw from trying to loosen or break them but with little success. His thick black hair is matted and damp against his head, skin clammy yet the only moisture seems to pool near his face. His body aches, arms and shoulders as well as back cut and treated from many quick swipes, as if he had been mauled by some feral creature. In the darkness burning crimson eyes stab out at him as silence begins to drown his mind.

Gormun opened his eyes slowly, mind bent between want of sleep and the fear of the memories. His skin felt like old paper as stress and pain filled it with wrinkles, skin haggard and aged well beyond his years in only a few days. He closed his eyes again, a wounded noise rising from his throat as the gnawing push of his empty stomach greeted his fitful attempt at sleep. His body seemed asleep and numb, the cold stone floor beneath him offering no comfort as an almost continuous drip of water fell from above on the center of his head. If he were at his best it would be of no concern, but trapped in place devoid of time or strength each drop was a hammer into his skull. His mouth twitched, inside tasting foul of the dirt and grime he had sucked in with what pathetic moisture he could get from the floor. His only source of water.

He had come to in this darkness and time seemed different here. It was sluggish and thick, a soup that pressed in the air and caught in his throat with each breath. He feared it could suffocate him if the hunger didn’t kill him first. He knew someone- no, that wasn’t right… Something was in here with him. A dark presence that leaned on his exhausted mind and pressed him with the reminder: this could always get worse.

Something shifted, no sound made, as a metallic foot pressed into his back along with five long, sharp blades that seemed to move as talons would on another creature. Each one carefully pressing across his back, yet nowhere that would threaten his life if he tried to shove into it to die and escape it all. Each talon pressing into his flesh than releasing, the sensation almost like needle legs of a spider climbing his flesh, forcing his skin open to draw blood.

”Speak.” A cold whisper forced itself from the darkness. The presence was behind him yet the voice enveloped him, cold sound clear in his head and more commanding than any shout he could have mustered. A terrible voice that spoke little but demanded much.

He set his jaw, clenching it tight as lips quivered, not willing to give in yet. Eyes forced shut and drawing lines on his face as he waited for metal claws to set into his body, furrowing and shredding his skin and forcing them to mend, and repeat.

”Release them.”

The command was not to him yet it was confusing. His eyelids lifted as he gazed at the small margin of floor shown before him. Something forced into the back of his head, his resistance gone as forehead hit stone, fingers grabbing his hair as the metal claws wrapped just over the top of his head, each one scoring a cut on his brow. The pain came swiftly but it was dull to him now, he was losing connection with his body. The hand was gripped tight and strong, jerking his head back and forcing his gaze out as something was dumped across the floor.

A deathly white face, almost bleached of color with blue lips and bulging eyes, met his gaze, despair etched upon the other so cleanly it was as if it was set into marble. The lone arrow still protruding from the back of Corporal Yanis’ head as he was left before Gormun. The sight caused a cringe but the grip prevented him from looking away. The next thud made his body jump as something much darker obscured the halfling, skin tinged gray and black, face down in the floor as a deep and long cut had removed some of where his neck should have been.

His face was familiar.

Memories pushed in his head, ones he could not sift or ignore as they filed past him in a rush and a name came out, his voice stale from lack of use. “Brack…” At once the memories attached to the name overwhelmed him and Gormun realized his brother had been slain. A wound tore in his mind, greater than any pain he had felt, or the starvation he endured. His eyes closed but were devoid of tears he could not shed as his body clenched onto any water it held. His only brother was gone, dead from only one blow and not safe to warn the Shawoman. He heard a noise that sounded like a wounded animal and not his own voice yet he wasn’t sure if it was real.

”Speak.”

Another shriek tore from his chest, a savage roar as his hope was snatched away from him, “Demon Spawn! Your vileness is only measured by foul acts you reap. May the Horde and Shawoman smite your actions.”

”…Shawoman?”

His eyes opened as his mind froze. In his weakness his mind ignored his oath and broke his honor. For to guard the Shawoman was to deny her existence to those that did not know. His head hit the stone floor as he realized the foot and the hand had left him, the distinct sound of metal talons clacking around on the stone before him. The figure knelt down, even in a place devoid of most light he could see the faint, dark crimson of the armor. The being was just before him, yet just inside his reach, taunting him to try and make a move. Even if he could his body wouldn’t listen.

”Where?” The whisper pushed at him, drilling into his mind with a command that could tame worgs if it wished. Yet no magic touched it, just promises of what may come if disobedience was the answer.

Gormun twisted his head and tried to look away, biting on the tip of his tongue and pushing out the pain. Teeth weak yet desperate to try and cut through the muscle before he shed any more. Something traced over his neck, softly kissing yet cold and chilling. Head lifting up to break away as the movement followed until the claws hooked in the bottom of his chin, pressing until they drew droplets of his blood. He shut his eyes. He couldn’t take it anymore. Pleading for forgiveness from the angels his eyes snapped shut and in a wavering voice he divulged the location of the town and where the Shawoman should be.

His mind had broken.

Laeral, Boulon Brother's Inn

It was late in the night as Illeyssa and her band entered the town, the Worgs moving closer as they passed the simple made streets lined with simple made houses. Few windows still had light glowing from them as most were dark while their owners slept. The Inn still seemed active, though not as much as when twilight flooded the sky with its pastel reflections. Brack halted at the door, right hand planted on it as the side of his war hammer remained in his grasp. Shoulder dead still he paused as the four Worgs formed up behind him before pushing the door open to the smells of pis poor ale and sad excuses for a warm meal. The younger brother was through the door, closely trailed by the Worgs, the few heads that rose to see the new strangers stopping in their food, drink and talk at the sight of the beasts. Then she stepped in, closely trailed by Silvya and Dormund and finally Gormun who let the door swing behind him. The entry way seemed small and crowded and everyone who looked remained silence, their eyes clearly showing their discomfort.

The first reason was such a large group of Orcs was seldom seen so far from their remaining tribes, save the sparse few who went off to work as mercenaries or guards for whatever crummy pay was offered. Three broad and strong standing males and two females, with ornately braided locks of hair signaling the right of Shawomen. The second discomfort came from the Worgs, tall beasts larger than any wolf and those dark red eyes, head swiveling side to side and watching the patrons with cold eyes. Yet the first two reasons seemed small in ways of the last one that seemed to have struck the room dumb. Standing without care or fear of her appearance, the only thing Illeyssa proudly wore was the intricate tattoos that covered and circled her body, tracing along her stomach and chest, arms and back depicting the radiance of the Angels giving their powerful gift to the Orcs.

Her three guards moved off a bit, the Worgs moving to follow their master as Illeyssa calmly approached the bartender leaning over with a casual move, eyes matching his and locking them in place so they did not tray, her look commanding his eyes to remain on hers. "I am looking for a room."

"I..." His unease budded in his throat and he cleared it a bit hastily before looking the other way. "Sorry, we have no rooms left... The Legion has them all. But if you were to stay..."

He stopped talking as she lifted a hand, "The legion is here too? Then i understand the lack of space, if it is not of too much trouble, could I stay in this room for at least a few hours to rest. The journey is long after all."

The Inn keeper shifted a bit, raising a hand to rub his neck and stopped, "Er.. I guess I could. I mean it would be of no trouble if you were to..."

It was at this point he found himself talking to open space, Illeyssa moving off without response as Silvyar drew close again and the pair moved to an open table near the back. She watched her apprentice carefully as the girl leaned close, "Shawoman I-"

"Here will be fine. Now... Listen closely Silvyar so I don't have to repeat myself again. This is what I saw..." Illeyssa bent close and whispered in her apprentice's ear.

---

Laeral, South Road

"Alright soldiers! Form up!" The words were loud and clear in the early morning. The legion forces were lined up in a somewhat orderly fashion though it didn't take a soldier to see it wasn't a well trained group. Illeyssa rested near one of the houses, arms crossed and golden eyes watching them carefully. That boy looked so much like a man she remembered back in Gia. The name eluded her though and she didn't press further into old memories for it. Silvyar shuddered beside her, body not yet used to the cold mornings and nights in her apprentice robes, the faint trails of silver marking the beginnings of her tattoos. The pair watched the forces getting ready in the calm hours, aware that, while only Brack could be seen leaning against a house off to their right, Dormund and Gormun were watching from somewhere close and unseen. Resting beside the Shawoman was the same Worg that approached her last night, and now it stood alert, eyes watching the soldiers as well as her fingers wrapped in its fur.

The night was forgotten, her foretelling told to her apprentice, and the girl left to her own mind to think of what it truly meant. A test to see how strong her gift may be. Yet even as her own head formed the answers she had gained, she grew worried at the news and sight of the Legion of Ashes being here, in this remote little town. Could her foresight come sooner than she expected once again? The thought chilled her spine more than the clinging air on her skin. The sight of her nightmare at the end of her walk worried her more than when that dream began to reoccur almost every other night. Something was changing in Norr... And the last time she couldn't read it in time it devastated her people.