The conversation died down, the group of soldiers reduced to scattered thoughts and half-formed plans until finally, they gave up. There was no way they could cross that chasm, not with their current abilities and handicaps, and with misery clear upon their expressions, they began backtracking. They retread the mountain path, crossed over the plateau, and dipped down the slope they had ascended in the morning until the sulphurous fog tickled their noses once again. This time, however, the springs wasn’t their stopping point; considering the massive detour they had to take, Ettamri pushed them on once more, everyone’s knees aching as they descended the mountain.
It was late at night, by then, that they had reached the base, and fatigue clung their limbs like a thick swamp. No fire tonight, and no chance to hunt either. Oscar had found the group a comfortable copse of vegetation to form their shelter out of, at least, and after some stake-hammering, hardtack chewing, and cheerless grumbling, they settled themselves in for the night. If that chasm hadn’t been there, they’d have been in proper beds. If that chasm hadn’t been there, they’d have been ten Gold richer, and on their way back to Andeave. If that chasm hadn’t been there…
They woke up the next morning to the howl of the storm, the canvas rattling madly as the wind ripped at it. Ettamri, the only one with the constitution required to brave the blizzard, had set off to secure the horses, draping what blankets they could spare over their beasts of burden. The warrior returned to the shelter half-frozen, snow caking half her body. If they had been able to read the weather, they’d have been able to prepare for the blizzard. But weather struck fast during winter, and without even a hot meal to warm themselves, the soldiers had no choice but to shiver, chewing on rockhard biscuits while trying to melt their waterskins with body heat. Renauld was the champion there, at least, holding the distinction of having the most baby fat on him. With only cool water to quench their thirst and no space in the tent to relieve themselves, all they could do was wait for the weather to die out.
Once again, Siwon was unable to perform his bloodletting ritual, and in the storming night, the only thing that spoke up was his yellow demon, tormenting him with how this was all the curse of Kur-Inuus, that none of them would wake to see morning, that the Jaws of Death, the Fangs of Winter, would tear their shelter asunder and cast them all to the merciless rage of the elements.
No one managed to sleep much. No one but Muu.
Because in the morning, as a deafening silence reigned outside, only Muu did not open her eyes. The Bladedancer was feverish, her pale skin flushed with sweat that would only chill her further, and though the blessings of Alri-Qua were many, removing a disease such as this was beyond Katya’s capabilities. The blizzard had frozen the trees solid as well; without fire magic, none of them would be able to stoke a flame. Insufficient food, insufficient shelter, insufficient skills. To return to Andeave now would be a death sentence, but even their horses were exhausted, weakened severely by the weather they had been exposed to. It was a small miracle, really, that they had survived the night. No choice though. No choice but to push on.
With Muu wrapped up in as many blankets as possible and with Katya assigned to do what she could to hydrate her, the party carried on along the base of the mountain. If Ettamri’s map was right, if they could push up that steep mountain path swiftly, they should still be able to reach Fort Stalwart by nightfall. For these moments, when a man’s fortitude and willpower was challenged, Argen shone. Marching at the front of the party, he plowed a path with his targe, pushing snow away so the wagon never stalled. Siwon and Renauld, though largely unable to aid in the clearing of the path, strode alongside the Phanlanx, leading the horses by the reins. Oscar supported Ettamri; the heavy warrior sank with each step, and her stomach gnawed at itself the most keenly. There was no food here, only allies, but by the Gods did her allies look more and more tasty…
The sun was dipping down by the time they reached the mountain path, the snow dyed a rosy pink. At this distance, they could just make out the watchtower of Fort Stalwart, and with the goal finally in sight, the adventurers marshalled what strength they could. Muu had to be left to shiver and sweat by herself now; not one iota of strength could be spared in getting the wagon up the slope. Siwon, Oscar, and Katya pulled. Ettamri, Argen, and Renauld pushed. Every three steps they gained, one was lost due to loose snow, and five days of travelling had taken their toll. The clouds were sweeping over the skies once more, promising another night of hellish snow if they couldn’t make it to their destination. In the distance too, Oscar could hear the beating of drums, echoing through. Or was that just his heart, pounding in his ears?
They pressed on. The path was steep, but at least it was straight. The sun died, and they forced themselves to continue in the darkness, their only illumination coming from the starlight reflected in the snowbanks.
It was too dark now, to even see if Muu was still secured atop the wagon. But the light of the watchtower shone, a light that grew minutely larger with each step they took. Close, so close they could imagine the stone walls of the Fort, the barracks with the roaring hearths. They were so close!
Then, one of the horses collapsed, fatigue claiming its life.
They stopped.
The weight of the wagon became unbearable, and with that, they had no choice but to stop. The weather was growing worse, and they were entirely spent. Spent, but at least, they had meat. As the wind picked up, as the snow began to fall, they did what they could to make a last ditch effort towards shelter building. The wagon became their windbreak, the canvas was insulated with what snow Renauld could sculpt with his magic. Ettamri and Oscar butchered the horse together, and they ate it as quickly as they could, before the falling temperatures could cause the meat to freeze. Emptying out the steaming entrails, the party stuck their waterskins into the bloodied guts and stuck the unconscious Muu into the belly cavity, the warmest place they could get in their little shitty shelter. Outside, the storm raged once more. They could no longer spare any blankets for their remaining horse. It would probably die tonight too.
Good, more food for them.
The night wore on.
They shivered and shuddered, pressed close.
The masked monster regained her might, her fire.
The yellow demon cackled, mirth found in its master’s folly.
The shieldbearer wondered if this too, was a doomed venture.
The mage drifted on, between nightmares and dreams, settling into quagmire.
The ranger understood once again, that the world had found him lacking.
The bladedancer found nothing, cast again unto oblivion.
And the child…
…dreamt.
.
.
.
"Arise."In darkness, they roused.
In darkness, they rose.
Chapter One: Bastion of the Outlands
