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Turn 10

---Back-post: Turn 9---

"Rodger! You scared the life out of me!" Duncan glanced over Rodger’s shoulder at the others, and saw where Urkan’s eyes were pointing.

"I wouldn’t bother. That’s one very dead Goblin. Big bits of it are missing, and what’s left looks like it got cooked by whatever made this" – he indicated the crater. "From the way he’s lying, I’d say he was trying to leave in a hurry at the time."

Urkan gave him a funny look. "Are you sure you’re a…" He broke off. "We’d best get going."

---Skip---

The thick snow underfoot masked their footfalls while the darkness and ubiquitous blizzard masked the jingling of their harness and weapons. As they trudged forward, following the Guard Captain towards his hometown, the party heard a low moaning. The moaning became a howling, the howling became a screaming, chittering, wailing, gurgling cacophony of noise. The Student turned to the Initiate beside him and coughed politely. The gale dropped to a whisper for a moment and the party could hear every word.

"Just the wind, do you think?" The Initiate just looked at him, too tired to reply.

---Turn 10---

Duncan's eyes grew wide at the howling and moaning, and he tightened his numb-fingered grip on his plain hand-axe. "Gods, what was that?" he said, looking around the group. A thick curl of hair, slicked by melting snow, fell down over his face.

"I don’t know," murmured the Elf, worry etched into the skin around his mouth, the only bit of his face visible from under his hood. "Something…unnatural…just happened. I can sense the ripples." Xavier shivered violently, his blanket soaked through.

Rodger, his back to the Elf, turned to the others. "It’s probably just our minds playing tricks on us. We should really get to town so we can thaw out and get our minds working better." He started to trudge forward towards town, pulling his cloak closer to his body to try to preserve what little warmth was left. He quickly disappeared into the snowy darkness.

Darmon looked at Storm, who shrugged.

Duncan wasn’t satisfied. "That was no cursed wind..." Turning slightly to face Urkan, he said quickly "I think we should get moving. I mean run. What do you think?" Urkan ignored him, his eyes staring over the Labourer’s shoulder and into the darkness.

Junither was looking back, somewhere towards the noise. It was impossible to know where it had come from – the wind played cruel tricks on the acoustics of the valley, bending sounds and blurring them with its own chilling howl. One hand screened his keen Halfling eyes from the snow while he scanned about.

Standing beside him, Duncan looked around at the bleak landscape, trying to find signs of life, vegetation, or cover. He took several steps forwards, away from the town, and tried to locate the source or direction of the moaning, bending low to the ground as he did so. Their footprints were already blurred as the wind dropped flurries of fat snowflakes on the already foot-deep snowdrifts.

"I think you’re right." Junither replied, absently, his attention fixed on something the Human couldn’t see. "There’s something moving out there. Something big." He stopped, and took a half-involuntary step back. "My god, it can see us!"

Urkan was already turning. "That settles it. I want a wall between us and whatever is out here." The others wheeled to follow him and they ran up the valley. Deep snow made the going difficult. Deep wagon-wheel ruts, some a span or more deep, were well buried and threatened to turn an ankle or two. Urkan led them between two low mounds, turned slightly away from the wind, and followed alongside a shallow gully. "That’s…huh…huh…a drainage...huh…ditch. We…must be on…huh…the main…road!" He explained, gulping freezing air down into burning lungs.

Xavier faltered, and fell face-first into the snow, exhausted. Duncan slowed to a halt beside him, glad of the excuse to rest. The wind howled again, louder than before, and closer. The two looked at each other. Xavier grabbed the other’s hand, leapt to his feet, and the two were off again, their fatigue forgotten.

---Skip---

The others were waiting for them when they got back to town. Welcoming hands hoisted numb, steaming bodies over the wooden wall into the safety of the town. A girl – early twenties, wrapped in the white robe of an Initiate of Verena – knelt by a small cooking pot full of thick brown broth which she was quickly ladled into wooden beakers. A guard ran up to the group, the wind pushing and pulling at him and the armload of blankets he carried. The adventurers were efficiently bundled up and half-led, half-carried to the shelter of the Dusty Throat Inn.

Martha and the girl helped the seven out of their wet clothes. While the girl - her name was Lucrezia she told them, her mind on the mess of sodden clothing and pegs in her hands – hung the clothes up to steam, Martha dragged a circle of stools in front of the fire. Amos - the old man had deserted his traditional seat in the warm of the log fire when the others had come in – caught Urkan’s eye. The soldier shook his head a fraction of an inch each way. The old man sagged a little, then straightened again when Martha looked his way questioningly.

"You should have me let you go with you," he muttered, accusingly.

"I left my best men here," Urkan replied, forcing a half-smile. "You and Vertan. Where is the cripple, anyhow?"

"On the west wall." Urkan looked up. He’d almost forgotten the girl was there. "There were more archers. He says they’ll try something at dawn." Her voice was quiet, tired. The waiting had worn her down – part of her was waiting for an end, any end.

"More? Bastards. I’d forgotten about the Goblins."

"Forgotten?" Martha handed the Halfling a second cup of soup.

Urkan shook his head. "We saw something out there - "

"-Something big -"

"- Something evil -"

"- But we didn’t get a good look." Urkan shot a pointed look at Junither and Aenarion. "Could have been almost anything…" Martha clearly didn’t believe it.

"You ran." Urkan couldn’t meet her eye.

"I’d best go speak to Vertan. Find out what’s going on."

"Your clothes are still wet!" Martha said, surprised.

"They’ll do."

"We could get dry clothes from Magden’s!"

"A little wet won’t hurt me." Urkan scooped up the clothes, wrung them out once, and stood up. The blanket fell to the floor. His tight, wiry body was criss-crossed with silvery lines, and a stylised black eagle was tattooed across one shoulder. Lucrezia squeaked in surprise at his sudden nudity and turned her back. Martha just stared at the lines. "I’ve been fighting longer than some." He nodded towards the girl, "and I’ve seen worse than this. Remind me to tell you about the siege at Karnal’s Corner sometime." Amos looked at him, started to say something, then thought better of it.

Urkan pulled his steaming clothes on, securing the heavy mail shirt with a thick leather belt. The pot-helm went over a leather coif tied under his chin, and a business-like sword in a plain scabbard hung from a sword belt crossing over the other belt. He left his sodden cloak draped over his stool, drained the remains of his soup in one, grabbed Amos’ cloak, flicked it over his shoulders, and left. The door banged shut after him.

---End Turn---

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