Leif Saetre: Winding Roads and Singing Swords

[Nuran]

The scruffy blonde ranger flashed a rather roguish grin as he peered across the table towards Alyra. While the staff and scholars at the Vault of Sages seemed to hurry around them, gathering books and chattering idly, it was as if time stood still for Leif Saetre of Ruathym. Across from him the woman of near unnatural beauty, dressed in the vestments of a Knight of Silver, seemed distracted by something in her pack at her feet. Her pristine golden hair cascaded down about her shoulders where it was not tied into gem-studded braids. As she looked back up and took note of his near glazed over expression, a smirk crossed her full lips and made its way up to the corners of her almond shaped golden eyes.

“You know I have to report for duty soon. We might as well take advantage of what time we have left to us this day, Wyvern-slayer.”

Leif awoke from his daze and nodded enthusiastically, rising from the table to gather his things. Though a man of the north and a woodsman, his eastern style shirt, emblazoned with subtly stitched dragons winding down either sleeve seemed to contradict the image he otherwise portrayed well. He seemed not to take notice of this though as he adjusted a few of the weapons at his back and side and looked after the already leaving paladin, pulling a bit of his unkempt dirty blonde hair from his eyes with a huff and a it of a smirk.

Alyra wound her way through the city streets as a woman with a pressing purpose might. More than a few passing men of The Gem stopped as they walked to turn head at the sight of her. Jogging, Leif caught up to her and enveloped her from behind with his long arms.

“Keep that pace up, and you will lose me before we have a chance to make use of the morning!”

Alyra laughed lightly and turned to push him away playfully. His ice blue eyes twinkled as he put calloused hands to his hips and tried valiantly, but unsuccessfully to adopt an expression of disapproval. Taking his hand, she near dragged him the rest of the way to their destination… the Silverymoon Market.

The Market was humming with activity by mid morning. Farmers fought with stubborn mules who bore carts of produce and grain, while vendors proclaimed the value of their wares for the benefit of common and noble folk alike. Temples and buildings framed the fountain studded swath of land housing the commotion, and atop the crest of the long, sloping hill sat the grand Hunter’s Gate.

Even as they entered the bustle, Alyra and Leif remained focused and set about to work immediately. Her slender, but not delicate finger quickly pointed at the first gnome to pass them, and the tall northman’s brow quickly furrowed in thought.

“Gnome.”, he replied in the tongue of the gods themselves.

Alyra squinted a bit and nodded, looking to his face with a hint of amusement.

“Good, though I had meant his shirt.”

Leif did a double take and quickly amended his response.

“That gnome is wearing a blue shirt.”

The words rolled off of his tongue fluidly, though his brow remained creased in concentration. Like his shirt, his quick mastery of spoken language seemed out of place. Alyra smiled brightly, a hint of surprise gracing her features as she turned to continue through the active lesson. Leif followed behind, his hand draped casually across the pommel of his longblade, wishing the morning would never end.

[johnlewismcleod]

Thanks, Nuran...more, please!

[Nuran]

The tall northman walked though the moonlit logging town of Quaervarr whistling a rolling and haunting tune. A few sleepy guards turned head as he crossed the simple but sturdy wooden bridge and turned towards the path leading out of town and into the Moonwood. Moonlight cascaded down in sheets intermittently, as the clouds rolled across Selune’s face, and as the scruffy ranger reached the western gates, his tune reached a crescendo and then abruptly died.

Leif was garbed in his loose slacks and black Kara-Turan shirt. As he walked through the town, he had wrapped himself in his flowing blue cloak, but now, as he stepped into the tunnel of overhanging trees, he let loose his grasp to enable the cloak to flutter about behind him. With a slight twist, he pulled the finely crafted elven longbow from over his shoulder and stalked off of the road.

Leif was glad for the occasional swath of moonlight piercing through the boughs above. His eyes, though adjusted to the dark, were far and away inferior to those of many of his closest friends. Each rustle of a bush or snap of a twig sent his head spinning, only to find seemingly empty forest. Aside from the quiet drone of the wind, the silence that would have brought about a dreadful sense of solitude to many brought Leif to a state of comfortable focus.

As his eyes failed him, the subtle woodland noises guided his senses as he resumed his trek. Moving with a surprisingly silent gait, he weaved through the trees, vaulting himself over fallen logs and dropping down rocky embankments as he grew nearer to his mark. After near an hour of careful pathfinding, Leif crouched on a hilltop, keeping his hooded form partially obscured by a great ash, and settled down onto a knee to watch the town of Winter’s Edge in silence.

[Nuran]

It was raining already when Argent left the fields and began making his way back through town to his small cottage. The winding dirt road up towards the town was already crossed in multiple places by streambeds feeding water down into the river that met with the ocean at the small harbour below. The single dirt road through town was already turning to mud as Argent plodded along, his boots becoming heavier and heavier with each step. Most of the people had already made it home from the harbour to shelter themselves from the increasing winds, but as Argent stepped into his home, he realized that his beloved wife had not.

The small one room cottage had simple mat covered dirt floors. A single table sat in the middle of the room, and each wall seemed to have its own purpose. A bed graced the far wall, as well as a pair of modest wooden chests. To the right was a fireplace large enough to cook on, and to the left sat some shelves cluttered with random tools and house wares. Argent looked around quickly and spun in place, letting the wooden door drop back against the frame in his wake.

The house next to his was a short walk away, and Argent leaned into the now howling winds stubbornly. The rain seemed to come in sheets, falling at nearly the same angle Argent walked at. Though he crouched, he did not cover his head, and by the time he reached the next house, his silver hair was plastered to his head.

As their front door was flung open, the man and the woman inside both spun around to find Argent standing there with his with his simple tan shirt and shin length brown pants dripping torrents onto their mat covered floor. Despite the fact that his hair and beard were silvered as the moonlight itself, the wet and clinging clothing hinted towards a muscled body that could not have belonged to a man over the age of thirty.

“You surely aren’t taking him home in this storm, Argent. Might as well come on in to the fire.”

The dripping man made no motion to answer, but stepped in, shutting the door behind him and looking around the small cottage with a greatly furrowed brow. Most of the house was the same as his own, save for along the far wall there were two beds instead of one. The man and woman both stood near to the fire, dressed little more than well made rags, and around them huddled three children of varying ages, with an infant fourth bundled in the woman’s arms.

“Why did Illana even let you leave the house?”

Even as the words left the woman’s mouth, an expression of worry crept onto her face. She studied Argent as finished looking around the house; creases spreading across her face which had already been wrinkled by dirt and sun.

“Illana is not at home. She is not here. Is her ship tied to dock?”

Argent spoke with a strange tone of authority, though his words were simple. His accent and his slow, studied intonation made it seem as if he had not been speaking their language for long. His own face remained stern as both the man and the woman’s grew even more worried.

The oldest of the three older children chimed in at this, seeming still young enough to get excitement from knowing something no one else seemed to.

“I saw her leaving dock just a bit before the rains started. I unloaded the fish myself while she was at dock!”

Looking away from the fire, his youthful exuberance faded slightly as he noted the grim expressions of the adults. The woman, still hugging the infant close to her chest, stepped forward and offered the baby to the still dripping man.

“Come sit by the fire and hold your son. Illana handles her ship as well as any of the men, and she has sailed in storms before. You know this. Valkur favours her.”

Argent did not seem reassured by this, nor did he make a move towards the warming fire, or his infant son. Instead, he silently regarded the woman for a brief moment before turning.

“Not a storm like this.”

The wind howled through the door once more as Argent opened it and stepped out into the ever strengthening rains. Trees were bent to nearly horizontal with the rains now, and the sound of water pounding earth was nearly deafening. From somewhere in the distance, the sky erupted for only an instant as a bolt of lightning arced down from the blackened heavens above. Without even a shudder, Argent leaned into the wind and started back down the road.

The man from the house caught up to Argent with some difficulty as he leaned into the heavy rains and wind. The cloak he was clinging to desperately whipped about him and did little if anything to protect him from the downpour. Argent pushed on past his own house, with the man struggling to match his pace.

“She will be alright, dammit! We have all seen storms like this before!”

The man’s voice seemed unsure of even his own proclamation, and he started as a bolt of lightning splintered a nearby tree. The pair were all but sliding down the hill towards the dock now, and the man behind seemed to struggle to keep his balance. The whole of the hill was running thick with mud, spilling down towards the turbulent, crashing ocean.

“What could you do to save her anyway?”

The deafening sound of twenty foot waves crashing against the rocky shore combined with the rain was more than enough to drown out the man’s shouts, but Argent turned at this. On his face was a look of defeat, and he put both hands to the man’s shoulders.

“Go back and look after your wife and children. Look after my son. I will look after your sister…. my wife. This storm will last through the night, and it will be like nothing any of you have ever seen. Even if I find her, we will be lucky if the town survives.”

The man seemed to abandon his protests at the confidence of Argent’s words. Slowly, he turned away and started back towards the muddy hill. A quick flash of lightning revealed a small group of curious men atop the hill at the edge of the village looking down at the scene, even if they did not understand the nature of it.

As the man began his climb, he looked back over his shoulder, hand bracing himself in the slippery mud. Argent was near the waters edge, and being engulfed by the crashing waves. Another bolt of lightning streaked from the sky and hit Argent squarely on the head, though he did not falter or crumple. Illana’s brother stumbled in the mud at this display, and atop the hill, the men started scrambling.

As they all watched, Argent raised a hand and suddenly, the winds seemed to simply stop around him. Halfway up the hill, where the other men had reached Illana’s brother’s side, the wind still forced the rain to fall at a steep angle, but all around Argent, it suddenly had began to fall straight down. A few of the gathered men looked at each other for support, but none were able to speak.

The rain-shrouded figure of Argent had stopped, but suddenly, he began to move, and quickly, his form gliding over the waters and disappearing quickly out to sea. All of the men sat huddled together amidst the still pouring rain, unable to turn away. Minutes passed that seemed like days, until finally the men roused from their amazement and turned to make their way back to their houses and families through the downpour.

Argent flew quickly over the crests of the waves, looking back and forth for any sign of a ship. Before long, he saw a battered black form in the distance and turned quickly to speed towards it. All about him the rain continued to fall straight down, the winds simply non-existent. As he neared the small fishing boat, he saw Illana trying desperately to cling to some rigging as the ship was tossed about by the waves. Swooping down from above, Argent carefully pulled his wife into his arms without landing on the thrashing boat, and sped away and upwards towards his Cliffside village. Below, a giant wave engulfed the boat, and left nothing but the surging sea in it’s wake.

Limp in his arms, Illana fought to keep consciousness and seemed unaware of the nature of her rescue. Amidst the raging rains, he reached the top of the cliff and gently his boots found their way to the ground once more. A few of the nearby houses had already lost their roofs to the relentless winds, and Argent closed his eyes after looking around.

“I am sorry, my love.”

Setting her down under a tree that seemed grateful to be suddenly free of the winds, Argent turned back to the cliff and began weaving his arms around in a practiced, purposeful manner. Another flash of lightning shook Illana from her daze, and she looked up to her husband, who seemed suddenly a stranger as he murmured strange words and gestured in an unfamiliar manner. For minutes he continued, until finally, he turned and approached her.

“This is not something you will understand, but it is something that would have come to pass eventually. Know that the town will be safe from this storm. Know that I love you… and know that I love Saetre. Take care of our boy.”

Though she seemed nearly horrified as the reality of her rescue slowly dawned on her, she returned the kiss that Argent offered her. Something in his voice had seemed final, and instead of questioning him, she simply embraced him; clinging desperately in fear both of him and for him.

Slowly, the rains began to fade, and the dark clouds rolled back around the village. People began to emerge from their partially ruined houses just as Argent stood and quietly pried himself from Illana’s grasp. Tears streamed down her already dripping face as the silver haired man walked to the cliff side, looked back over his shoulder for an endless moment, and let himself fall over the edge.

Illana screamed, and a few men who had noticed the scene scrambled towards the cliffs. The rains had all but stopped now, and in an instant all other motion and sound seemed to skid to a halt as from over the cliffs, the form of a giant silver dragon beat its wings and disappeared into the sun.

Leif’s eyes shot open and he sat up in bed with such force, that the languid form of his aurelian lover stirred beside him. A hand hardened by battle, but softened by the intimate moment they had shared the night before reached over to stroke his arm lovingly. Her golden eyes fluttered sleepily and looked up at him with a curious expression. His face was furrowed with thought, but at her silent insistence, he wrapped an arm about her and settled back to her side.

“It was nothing, Alyra… I will tell you later.”

[johnlewismcleod]

A wonderful read, Nuran...more, please

[Nuran]

The tall northman strolled through the streets of Silverymoon’s southbank, whistling a lilting solemn tune, despite the smile on his face. As he neared the bardic college his smile broadened slightly as the sound of a harp seemed to match and compliment his tune. With a respectful nod, he tossed a few gold pieces into the bard’s overturned hat, much to the young man’s amazement.

“Lovely sound, my friend. Keep playing!”

Without stopping the northman continued past the school of music and theatre, and turned upon reaching the Silverguard Fortress. He did not stop, however, despite the fact that a certain golden-haired knight might well be inside. Instead, he offered only a smile towards the looming tower of stone and continued along the massive southern wall of the city.

As he neared the small, sturdy building marked with the name “Ironshield” prominently, he hesitated and slowed his steps. Though it seemed easily his destination, the northman stopped completely at the door and seemed reluctant to go inside. Finally, after a deep breath and a palm to his forehead, he opened the door and stepped inside, resuming his smile.

The dwarven smith was standing behind the counter and grunted out a greeting in a heavily accented trade tongue.

“Ironshield’s got tha best ahma this side o’ tha great sea.”

The tall northman flashed a grin and responded in a well practiced, but antiquated dwarven tongue.

“Good afternoon, Master Ironshield. I am here to propose a trade, if you are willing to hear me out.”

Ironshield nodded curiously, and the northman dropped his pack to pull out a polished and well cared for breastplate. One of the dwarf’s bushy brows raised as the breastplate was set on the counter, and he looked up towards the tall man with a silent, unimpressed look.

The northman patted the breastplate and spoke calmly.

“It was deposited by Xorn.”

The dwarf’s eyes instantly gleamed, and he looked over the armour again with renewed interest. Minutes passed as every bit of the metal was inspected, and the northman shifted in his soft leather boots. Dragons emblazoned on each sleeve of his shirt seemed to meet in battle at his chest as he stood with crossed arms, waiting with a slightly nervous grin.

The dwarf looked up and broke into a coveting grin.

“What ye tradin’ it fer, fella?”

With a last reluctant glance toward the breastplate on the counter, Leif the northman leaned over to rest his elbows on the counter and began explaining the details of his offer.

((RP done with DM Malacand))

[Nuran]

Ahead on the road, one of the hairy, lumbering beasts was smashing its club into the head of what was once a horse. Rage boiled in the ogre’s eyes but the life had long fled from the horses, and now little was left of the animal’s head. A second ogre stood at the back of the animal, grunting as it tried to rip one of the hind legs free of the body. One violent twist of the ogre’s tree branch sized wrists, and a sickening ripping of flesh let anyone near enough to hear know that it was close to accomplishing its goal.

Leif, who could see the monsters in the distance, had begun to approach the pair at a steady, rhythmic jog. The morning sun glinted off his ice blue eyes, making them shine a silvery grey that complimented his steeled face. His stone shield bounced on his arm with each step, as his hand inside the straps remained loose and ready. Behind him, a breeze picked up and carried a menacing smirk to his lips.

A reflection from the armour of the approaching human alerted the beasts to the approaching threat, and one turned to gallop towards the incoming swordsman. As Leif neared the ogre, his grip remained loose on his shield until the last moment, as the massive club was raised to swing down at him.

Ducking under the horizontal swing as if stepping under a low hanging branch, Leif drew his sword and slashed out at the hairy knee of the monster. The second brute finally turned its rage away from the brutalized horse at this point and lumbered over with wild eyes. Leif stepped away from the leg of the first ogre and spun to raise his shield just in time to deflect the brutally powerful downward swing of the second foe. Continuing in his spin, he slashed out at the arm of the first ogre and jumped back.

Leif stood at the ready, his sword tip wavering as his eyes darted between the towering pair of monsters before him. The wounded beast’s dirt caked limbs began to run red with blood, and it held back as its raging counterpart shook the earth with a battle-cry and charged. Raising its arms for another overhead club swing, Leif dashed by, leaving only the ground to absorb the massive blow.

The wounded ogre had little time to react as the swordsman thrust out, catching the bloodied leg a second time, and forcing the monster down onto one knee. It swung at Leif again, though he was already too close, vaulting from the bent knee to simultaneously sink his sword down into the creature’s chest and twist back his shield to meet the incoming crude club from behind.

The first ogre rose to both feet and staggered a step, even as Leif landed firmly on the ground. The sound of its companion collapsing rattled the ground, but not the swordsman or the second ogre, who stood with eyes locked.

Again the brute raised his arms for an overhead swing, and again Leif stepped just outside of the blow at the last moment, though this time he also thrust the tip of his sword up, and into the underarm of the creature. A howl of pain mixed with anger echoed through the hills as the beast tried desperately to backhand Leif with the injured arm.

Quickly falling to a knee, the swordsman caught the blow with an angled shield and with a push to his feet, launched the arm skywards slightly. The ogre’s front now exposed, Leif spun and stepped across the front of the beast, dragging his sword with him in a cut that opened the monsters bulging gut. The raging ogre’s eyes rolled skywards, and the ground shook again as the second towering form crumbled into the dirt.

The steel eyed swordsman flung his blade out against the air in a violent motion to free it from blood and looked around. Confidant that both of his foes lay dead, he spun his sword back into its leather housing and dusted himself off before quietly returning to the road.

[CloudDancing]

TWO!?

whoa.

[johnlewismcleod]

Wonderful battle tale...thanks, Nuran