Hooves slammed against the dirt path below as Nathyen, Niowyn, and Oryn stormed along the edge of the Fangtooth River, pushing their steeds to their breaking point as they went to outpace the Misshapen hot on their heels. Their guttural noises had accompanied them all the way from the moment they had left their companions to take refuge in the mountains, and were becoming almost as familiar to their ears as the chirps of crickets would be. Slowly but surely their horses began to protest and slow down despite their riders insisting they go just that bit further ahead at full pace, and for the first time since their flight began the Misshapen made themselves known behind them, their twisted figures becoming visible to the companions.
They were horrid beasts - a sea of writhing limbs pale as alabaster shoved aside those ahead, and spindly fingers clutched steel and iron etched in the light of the moon. There were men with multiple limbs, women sporting the heads and limbs of beasts, and even one whose lips had been sealed shut and whose eyes were flat patches of flesh.
"There! The bend!" Nathyen called ahead, jutting a crooked index finger to a bend in the Fangtooth where the companions might be able to make a stand. "Niowyn - see if you can do something to slow them down!"
Nathyen urged his horse forward. The beast protested, flicking its tail in protest even as it whinnied in fear of the creatures gaining upon it. The reins flicked, leather cracking, and the horse urged itself into a trot just as a Misshapen's blade slashed at its hindquarters. The horse cried out in terror and pain, and Nathyen was flung to one side as his boot slid from its stirrup. Hanging off of the steed lopsidedly, he reached for his ensnared foot as he was dragged along the dirt.
One slice became two and then three and then four. His horse collapsed just as he was able to free his foot and fetch his sword, dashing away from the Misshapen with naught but blade and pack, his left boot stuck still in the stirrup. A handful of the Misshapen set to prey upon the horse, whose shrill cries of pain echoed out, drowning out all other noise. Nathyen reflexively ducked beneath a swing of a cudgel as a blade sliced through his arm. He staggered to the ground, tripping along his own footsteps. The Misshapen loomed over him when suddenly the water from the Fangtooth began to stir.
Suddenly he felt writhing figures beneath him and he started, lurching back right as the Misshapen's broken shears swung down. He felt his arms grow damp, and glanced, shrieking as a sea of writhing snakes slithered through the dirt. A cluster of them wrapped about the Misshapen's legs as their fellows pressed their advance towards the rest of the horde. They wound about its legs first, then its torso before solidifying into ice, locking it in place, splattering blood across the ground as the sharp ends of the ice dug into its flesh. The remainder of the snakes shot toward the other misshapen, their mouths clapped open to reveal their fangs, and formed into a rain of icy spears that drove themselves deep into the horde of horrors beginning to encircle the companions.
Niowyn stood at the edge of the Fangtooth River, her eyes a brilliant blue as she watched her creations wreck havoc on the oncoming monsters. She looked to Nathyen with a grin on her face, as if to tell him she had his back. Ever since leaving the tribe, she felt more at home than she ever had with the river raging behind her. And it was because of that river that she felt at ease here - this was the best place for them to hold off the Misshapen for as long as they could.
Dale was not a warhorse. He was a trusty steed for sure and brave enough, but they were being set upon by a horde of misshapen. Oryn could sense how the horse moved uneasily beneath him. And while Niowyn's abilities and her attacks were as impressive as they were effective, Dale only became more and more restless.
His sword sharp as it was, would only do so much here. Reaching into the saddlebags, Oryn pulled out Scarnesbane. Again he felt powerful just like when he had fought the dragon. The gemstone in the hammer seemed to glow again and Oryn swung the weapon once. Whether Dale could feel the power of the hammer or whether he was just more and more restless, he seemed to overcome his fear because he charged forward when Oryn spurred him on.
The intention was not to rush headlong into the midst of the Misshapen. Instead, Oryn charged along the ranks of the oncoming vile creatures, swinging the hammer wildly. The fear painted in their eyes gave him hope that he could buy Nathyen and Niowyn enough time to recover. Eventually he had to steer Dale back to his friends. "I think we got their attention." Oryn said, clenching his jaw. Barely had he finished his sentence before the hammer began to give off an incredible heat. Oryn held it out and watched the gem in the middle of it glow brighter. Moments later, flames engulfed the steel and Oryn watched with wide eyes. Dale moved but eventually calmed. Looking to Niowyn and Nathyen he nodded, smirking.
Misshapen scattered before Oryn, driven back by Scarnesbane's brilliant glow and flaming touch. Those not trampled under Dale's hooves fled or were bashed in by the warhammer's powerful blows. The left flank buckled at the sudden ferocity of Oryn's charge, but those in the center were quick to fill in the gap, beginning to swarm about Dale and Oryn. Improvised weapons flashed in the dark and swung at the mounted rider, coming up short as Oryn maneuvered Dale to the safety of Niowyn and Nathyen.
As Dale pivoted back into a stationary position by the other two, the adopted a defensive arc, their backs to the river as the horde gathered itself back and pushed the assault further. Fanged maws loomed ahead and pale red eyes shone with the same eerie brilliance of Scarnesbane as they closed in. At their head was a twisted, malformed man sprouting the head and legs of a ram, horns lowered to ram head-first into Dale.
"Seems like we are cornered.." It was a grim realization, and yet the tribeswoman grinned. Her eyes fell on the temporary leader at the front, readying his attack on their companion. The Fangooth behind them stirred again as it spilled over the water's edge and crept along the ground until it pooled beneath the malformed man and a few misshapen behind him.
Niowyn glanced to Nathyen and Oryn, her eyes flicking to the ground and back as if to tell them the unspoken plan. "Ready when you are…"
"Ready as I'll ever be - Oryn, be a dear would 'ya?" Nathyen quipped, stepping forward and lunging at one of the Misshapen as Niowyn's magic took hold.
In a flurry of motion, the lead rams head Misshapen leapt and stumbled to the ground as the water about its ankles solidified into hard ice. It crashed to the ground, legs ensnared in a thick tomb of frozen water. Its companions to its left and right were likewise ensnared at their feet, making it easy for Nathyen's sword thrust to connect, running one through its torso with a wicked cry of agony. The Misshapen attempted to twist free of its prison to lash back at Nathyen to no avail, so instead began to wildly flail its arms around, leaving scratches along the locksmith's arms with its razor sharp nails as he withdrew, leaving space for Oryn and Dale.
Spurring the horse, he moved past Niowyn and headed directly toward the rams head. Raising the hammer, Oryn brought it into its face which exploded in blood and bone. The Misshapen next to it stepped back seemingly horrified by the gruesome death of their leader as well as the fiery hammer. Oryn swung at another one and felt the hammer connect, but at the same time Dale let out a painful scream. On his left, a Misshapen had cut the horses flank with one of its makeshift weapons. Oryn responded with a powerful strike to its head. He steered back toward Nathyen and Niowyn before bringing Dale about for another charge.
"We need to rout them or charge through them." Oryn looked at the wound Dale had sustained before patting the horse on its neck. He would survive but he was scared. "Unless the Fangtooth is shallow enough for us to cross." In his mind, he wondered if it was possible to charge through the ranks of Misshapen. They didn't like the fire and they were only brave because there were many of them.
Niowyn provided Nathyen and Oryn support by hurling icicles at the few Misshapen brave enough to walk into proximity of the red glow of Scarnesbane but for each fallen creature, two more appeared from the shadows as though there was an unlimited supply of them. Niowyn cursed under her breath, their efforts would be wasted if they stayed there.
"Oryn's right! We can't stay here… it will only be a matter of time before their sheer numbers overtake us." She glanced behind her shoulder to examine the river but it was too dark to tell just how shallow it was. With a few gingerly steps backward, her boots eventually met with the water and she stood ankle deep in the Fangtooth. The current was gentle against her feet. It was likely safe to cross. "I think we might be able to cross the river… but you two will have to go ahead of me. If we have any chance of getting across without them following us, it's going to require some
magic."
"Got it!" Nathyen shouted, darting back from a Misshapen's wild swing of its scythe.
The trio began to retreat into the river, Dale beginning to snicker and whine as the horde enclosed. The water of the Fangtooth was bitter cold, swelling to their knees before long as they stepped back further and further. The creatures remained wary of Oryn's hammer, opting instead to pressure the flank locked down by Nathyen and Niowyn, only to be then driven off by a warning swing of Scarnesbane.
"What's your plan here, lass?" The locksmith called as he dispatched a Misshapen attempting to hack at his thighs. "Water's fuckin' cold, and they're still comin' strong!"
"You'll see, just get back and stay behind me!" Niowyn shouted as the Misshapen stumbled further into the river after them. Oryn and Nathyen fell behind the tribeswoman, watching her and waiting. Niowyn's gaze locked onto the horde of beasts soon to fall upon them, her eyes burning a wild blue. Cracks and webs as black as night swallowed the flesh around her eyes and spidered out to the sides of her face. "Please answer my call, spirits. We need you now."
As she pulled on the Source the Fangtooth began to stir. The current picked up and the water level started to rise. In a moment's breath, the once calm and quiet river howled, and from upstream its force came crashing upon them in waves. The Misshappen frantically turned at the sound of the roaring river, their arms flying about as they scattered. Only a few would escape to safety before the Fangooth swallowed them whole, throwing them downstream as the force of the river carried them. Niowyn stood at the edge of the destruction, her arms out at her side as if to protect Nathyen and Oryn from the angered channel. The rise and fall of her chest was heavy, beads of sweat rolled off of her brow. She whispered a small thanks to the spirits for heeding her call, her protective stance relaxed, and her untamed eyes returned to normal.
"WHAT?!" Niowyn's attention shot upstream, panic in her voice. "NO! GET BACK. GET BACK!" The tribeswoman stumbled back, gesturing at her companions to run but it was too late. The river's rage could not be contained and the waves crashed into them, knocking the three from their feet and tossing them about like dead logs in the icy water.
The rush of water claimed them swiftly, dragging them down into the deeper end of the Fangtooth and away from the safety of the shallows. As the frigid water tugged them further into its gaping maw, the Misshapen carted along by Niowyn's magic gargled and struggled to stay afloat. Oryn was wrenched from Dale's saddle, and by the skin of his teeth was just barely able to keep a hold of his beast as it went kicking and screaming into the water.
Then, they steadied as if nothing had happened. The Fangtooth widened out, granting the churning waves from Niowyn's magic space to break and even out with the rest of the river. There the companions floated in place for a moment, gasping and spluttering. Nathyen glanced around, catching both Oryn and Niowyn in his frame of view. He waved off at the bank of the river to their left and began to swim towards it, numbness overcoming his body as he urged his burning muscles to propel him along. Oryn and Dale followed behind, and Niowyn was able to gracefully push herself through the water with no thought of swimming as if floating through the air like a bird.
Agonizing minutes passed before they managed to haul themselves upon the shore. Nathyen gasped and spat out a glob of water and blood from where he had bitten his tongue while fighting to stay afloat. Oryn and Dale followed, Niowyn shifting to her feet as if nothing were amiss, though she too was drenched and shivering in the cool night air.
"Other be damned," the locksmith shuddered as a cold sliced through him to the bone, just barely managing to haul himself to his feet. "Is everyone alright? Are… are they gone?"
As he gazed around, he found the night to be silent as it had been just a few hours before. The shrieks of the Misshapen were still audible from further up the river, but the width of its watery expanse lay between them and their foes. They were safe, for now.
"We need firewood - I'll see about gettin' some, and we'll use the hammer to light it...This chill'll kill us before the night is out."
"I'm alright…" The mage weakly replied as she watched her companions ring different pieces of their garb out. The air was cool, even cooler against their damp clothes. Even the smallest of breezes came like a thousand little knives against their skin. Nathyen was right, the cold would kill them if they did nothing, and it was her fault. She looked away, a hand gingerly finding its place between her shoulder and elbow. "I'm sorry… I couldn't contain it."
His eyes darted to the mage when he heard her words. Scarnesbane landed with a metallic thud on the ground, coming to rest on its head. It was no longer on fire, though Oryn knew that could quickly change. The flames always seemed to rage within the hammer, wanting to burst out and engulf the weapon. He felt lucky he still had it. When they were swept away by the water, he had clung to it for dear life, not wanting to lose such a powerful weapon.
"Stop that." Oryn said to Niowyn. There was a sharpness to his voice that surprised him. "We would have been torn to shreds back there, if it weren't for you." He pointed a finger at her and then sighed, expression softening. "You saved us. You saved my life.
Again." He noticed how his fingers were stiff and cold and flexed them to try to make the blood flow quicker. Then he walked over to Dale, took his reins and patted the horse. He was remarkably calm. Oryn sighed again, regretting his tone of voice. He began undoing the clasps of his armor as he turned to walk toward her. Stopping in front of her, he brushed wet hair out of his face before he set his eyes on hers. "You've saved me so many times that I feel like I am a fair maiden in distress, more often than not. Well," He shrugged again. "A maiden, at least." Oryn smirked. "Before I met you,
I was the one saving helpless, unarmed villagers. A few fair maidens. A smith once. And one ugly old crone, a few years ago." He finished undoing the clasps of his armor and shrugged it off. "Now let's get us a fire going, before we freeze to death."
Niowyn didn't expect the sharpness in Oryn's voice that it jostled whatever sorry feelings she was having for herself. She didn't want to think that she had saved them - it very well could have ended just as badly for them as it had for the Misshapen, but for now, they
were safe and everyone was OK. She met his smirk with one of her own and corrected him. "No, you were correct at a
fine maiden.."
Niowyn's smirk gave way to a more serious expression and she peeled her drenched cloak off as she approached the tree line. It was already a heavy cloak, made from animal skin in furs to protect her from the frigid air, but now it was even heavier that it was sopping wet. She threw the cloak over a branch and spread it so it would dry easier once the fire was built and then turned to Oryn and Nathyen. "You should do the same, or else you'll freeze even with a fire. We should set up a camp just behind these trees" she gestured with her head. "They should break the wind and protect us from the elements, should the spirits choose to spit in our faces when we are already down."
Nathyen shimmied out of his coat and laid it by the branches Niowyn had pointed out, fetching his sword from where he had left it along the shore. Wordlessly, arms already covered in prickled gooseflesh and shivering fiercely, the locksmith ventured off and cut a handful of sparse branches for the fire. They surrounded the kindling in a ring of stones and Oryn lowered Scarnesbane's lit head to ignite the wood. Nathyen continued to chop and bring back wood mechanically, noiselessly, a dead look to his eyes as he went about the work - even as the wood piled up uselessly by the edge of the fireplace he resumed his work without relent.
Once the fire was burning brilliantly, Niowyn disappeared into the wood to scout the area with the light of the fire as her only guide. Because it was dangerous to wander about the forest in the middle of night, she stayed close to the camp, but she was
listening for something. In the still blackness she could make out the faint sounds of the woodland creatures scampering throughout the wood in the distance and it allowed her to relax. The presence of the animals meant there was an absence of predators - they could rest easy for now.
On her return she happened upon a downed log and with Oryn's help, managed to drag it over to their camp for a place to sit and rest. Opposite of the log was a weirdly shaped boulder that had one flat edge and next to that, the pile of wood that Nathyen had been collecting. It had grown considerably in size and would be enough to burn for a couple of hours and yet, the locksmith still continued to work. Niowyn sat in the middle of the log and waited for Nathyen to return. When he appeared from the trees with a handful of logs, she interrupted him before he had a chance to disappear again. "Nathyen… you should rest now. We have plenty to burn right now."
"Huh? Oh, right," Nathyen stared blankly at Niowyn and nodded, only seemingly half aware of his surroundings. "Right…"
He lowered himself atop his discarded pack and sank atop it gratefully, sighing. Nathyen laughed then, more manic and listless than any sound the others had heard from the slight locksmith. A shaky hand gestured out to the Fangtooth behind him as he continued to laugh, steadying himself as he threatened to spill to the ground in his delirious fit of laughter.
"The horse's saddlebags had the gold," he managed to say between laughs. "Oh that is
rich isn't it? Risk my life trekkin' out to the Hollows - fight trolls, demons, and nearly get done in by Maud. And all that… Aria and…"
His laughter stopped then and he glanced down at his hands, still quivering restlessly.
"Hope they find good use for it," he spat at the ground. "Twisted fucks."
Glancing to Niowyn, Oryn sighed and then looked at the locksmith. Oryn was sitting as close to the fire he could get to try and get some warmth into his bones again. He had hung his armor on a branch and was sitting in his soaked shirt and trousers. His sword was leaning up against the log next to him and next to that, the hammer. Flexing his fingers as he held them toward the fire, he cleared his throat and spoke.
"Come now." He began, though he was unsure of what to say. Their situation was miserable, but he was sure they would pull through. It was just a setback. In situations like these, he was an optimist. "If you intend to lead us into more adventures, as you have so far, I think there will be more gold to be had, my friend." Oryn shrugged and sighed. "Would you stop being so fucking grim if I told you that, if we're lucky, there might be some food in Dale's saddlebags?" He gestured toward the horse and raised an eyebrow, waiting to see what Nathyen would say.
"Rest might do better," Nathyen replied, a bit of his usual tenor returning to his voice. "I'll take the first watch - no reason to suspect they'll cross the river for us, but… well, stranger things've happened."
"You might be right." Niowyn offered, though her voice was more sullen than normal. "I can take the second watch. And Nathyen, I looked around while you were collecting firewood and could hear the stir of the animals. As long as you can hear them, chances are there aren't any predators lurking about. But for whatever reason if you suspect
anything, wake me, okay?"
"I know 'ya impale big beasts twice your size with icicles regularly, but my money's on Oryn - he's just got…" Nathyen swelled outward, making an exaggerated gesture of flexing his muscles. "That presence."
The tribeswoman grinned at the locksmith, "are you questioning in my
presence, Nathyen?" her tone had changed, more playful than before but with a hint of caution in it.
"Ah's, true - you're far more terrifyin' 'an Aria," he offered Niowyn a small smile, glancing at Oryn. "Though look at 'im, pure rage that one is. And that
magnificent warhorse 'o his. Hard to compete, isn't it?"
Niowyn glanced over at Oryn with tender eyes and smiled as she replied to Nathyen as her attention remain fixed on the brute. "You're right, it's almost
impossible to compete with them." She tilted her head back toward the locksmith, a grin appearing again. "But you're going to have to promise me that you'll wake me - it won't be you that will face Aria's wrath if something were to happen to you. I was the one that promised her after all, and nothing is more terrifying than a woman scorned."
"Ah, I'd disagree - I've scorned plenty 'o women, and 'yer icicles still scare me more."
"Ahh, just go and start your watch and wake
both of us if there's trouble then!" It almost sounded like a demand but the expression on her face would tell the locksmith she was just teasing him.
L: Along the Fangtooth | A collaboration with @ze_kraken and @Morgan
