The Alliance at Thandvar

[Xarkly 17299]

 

 

The ancient fortress of Thandvar in the Yatl Wasteland.

 

"Peace and fire to you, Taevynd of Yrodholm, and to your command," the encroaching voice called.

 

Stood atop a north-facing plateau of ancient stone, cloaked in snow and ice and eroded by centuries of harsh wind, a stone colossus of a fortress rose up behind Taevynd. Thandvar, once one of the biggest military outposts of the Vaeyl Order, rose up from the ocean of white snow like a four-pointed star and scratched the cloud-veiled sky. Its massive, tiered keep acted as the best possible windbreaker in the Waste, unless one stood at the foot of the Wall itself. Thandvar almost equaled Lasthope in size, and dwarfed it in grandeur; even with centuries of erosion and inactivity, the star-shaped fortress was a sight to behold. Only now it was a ruin, claimed only by golems that had once served the Order - and would again, thanks to Taevynd.

 

"Peace and fire to you, Drochmar of Kahaer, and your command," Taevynd replied once the figure had close enough, and ceremoniously placed a fist over his heart. Mounted on a white-skinned polar bear, Drochmar, clad all in bronze plate painted black-and-white, paused at the edge of the plateau. His bronze scythe was raised skywards, as were those of the dozen riders behind him. Just two soldiers remained of Taevynd's own command; they had lost five trying to reclaim the fortress from the malfunctioned golems. Behind them, they had hastily hung a banner of the Vaeyl Order - a white eye on black cloth - from an eroded ledge manned by stone gargoyles that hung from Thandvar's north wall.

 

At the front of his dozen bear riders, and the only man with a white plume in his helmet like Taevynd's, Drochmar surveyed the party of three that stood afoot Thandvar. "I worried I would find none here but more golems. You were successful, then?"

 

Taevynd nodded wearily. "We lost five brothers, but we scaled to the top of Thandvar. We retrieved the Command Lexicon." He raised his left hand, where a cube of solid gold, decorated with tiny inscriptions, gleamed in the pale light. As if to demonstrate, he channeled his thoughts into the Lexicon; from behind, there came a large clap of stone as a hulking, eight-foot humanoid all made of stone lumbered forward. Its open helmet, carved akin to that of Vaeyl footman, exposed a face of motionless stone features. With a thought from Taevynd, the stone titan raised its hand, and lowered it once again. Taevynd simply had to think of it with the Lexicon in his hand, and it happened.

 

"This is good. This is excellent," Drochmar exclaimed. He was not a man of much emotion, Taevynd knew, so his raised voice was the equivalent of others bursting into a celebratory jig. "The Vaeyl Order will have its stone titans once more. Are there many left in the fortress?"

 

"Some. We had to destroy many to retrieve the Lexicon." 

 

Drochmar nodded thoughtfully and turned his visor towards the top of the looming fortress. "How is it you managed to retake the fort, Taevynd?"

 

Taevynd hesitated. He did not need to look behind to know his two remaining soldiers were exchanging uneasy, perhaps even ashamed, glances. "We ... we had aid," Taevynd answered at last.

 

With a metallic creak, Drochmar looked back down to him. Behind him, his men sat on their bears in dead silence, as did Taevynd's men behind him. Vaeyl Knights knew never to interrupt meetings of their officers, but at that moment, the only sound for a long moment as the howl of the blizzard as it swept across the Waste. "Aid? I did not think the Lasthope garrison would have Knights to spare."

 

"It was not from Lasthope that our aid came."

 

"Then where? My banner was the nearest, and you did not call for me. After that, Sendred's banner is closest, but he is miles away, preparing to deal with the Black-and-Gold Invaders." 

 

"The Black-and-Gold Invaders,  they ... they came into the Wastes, to Thandvar." Drochmar, and a good many of his men, visibly stiffened at that, but Taevynd went on before they could protest. "We could not fight invaders and golems, Drochmar. We made a pact. It was thanks to them we could reclaim Thandvar, and the Lexicon."

 

"Taevynd," Drochmar began slowly. The gentleness to his tone was sinister. "Invaders are not allies. Especially the Black-and-Gold invaders. Do you forget who halted our attempt to reclaim the Sleetfells? Do you forget who destroyed the Oathstone?" 

 

"We have a pact with them, do we not? With their king?" Taevynd challenged him, and made a vain effort to reign in the heat in his voice.

 

"We do," Drochmar answered tentatively. Taevynd was not sure if it was his imagination, but Drochmar's men seemed to tighten their grips on their scythes as their commander went on. "But only until Yrodholm is reclaimed. There is another Lexicon there; that is of paramount importance. The invaders can be dealt with once the city and its jewel is ours." 

 

"It was necessary to reclaim -" Taevynd started, but his time Drochmar did not let him finish.

 

"I will not tell Lord Vaeyl of this." Though Drochmar spoke near to a whisper, it was like a roar in Taevynd's ear. "But it will not happen again. If they come again, you will slay them, golems be damned. They are our enemies, Taevynd. They have taken our home, and our Oathstone, and if we let them, they will take all. Do you understand me, Taevynd of Yrodholm?" For a long moment, Taevynd simply stared across at the mounted Vaeyl Knights. Finally, he inclined his head, and stifled an exasperated sigh. Drochmar healed his bear forward until it was just a pace from Taevynd. With just a slight motion from its rider, Taevynd knew the Waste-bred creature could clamp its jaws around his helmet without much trouble. Instead, Drochmar extended a hand. "The Lexicon."

 

Unconsciously balling a fist, Taevynd placed the gold cube in Drochmar's hand. They were of equal rank, but with his liaison with the invaders made known, he felt like a squire who had miss-stepped in front of Vaeyl himself. As soon as the bronze digits of Drochmar's gauntlets closed around the Lexicon, Taevynd half-turned to one of his remaining men. "Oevrick; show Drochmar of Kahaer and his command to our fires." With a stiff nod, Oevrick, whose armor was battered and dented, turned and stalked towards the fortress. Without a word, Drochmar and his men dismounted, and led their bears after Oevrick. For a long moment, Taevynd stood alone on the lower plateau with his last remaining man.

 

"Yharron," he addressed the last soldier. "Was I wrong?"

 

" ... Wrong, lord?"

 

"Was I wrong to ally with the invaders, to reclaim Thandvar and the Lexicon. Should I have killed as soon as we could?"

 

Behind him, Yharron shifted uncomfortably on the frozen stone. "I ... do not like speaking with invaders, lord, or even seeing them. But we would have perished today if not for their aid."

 

"I ... I see. Go to the fires then, Yharron. Go and rest." Without another word, Yharron nodded, and vanished in the direction that Drochmar and Oevrick had gone. Taevynd himself remained stood on the plateau for what felt like an hour, but could have been a minute - in this eternal darkness, time was a trivial thing in the Waste. He simply thought. No matter what Drochmar and his riders thought, no matter what Sendred and his assault force near the invader capital thought, no matter what Lord Vaeyl, Horen's own anointed, thought, Taevynd would remember what happened here today. He would remember his peace with the invaders.

 

He would remember the Alliance of Thandvar, however brief and hopeless it had been. 

 

[Imperium 3495]

Rhys stands atop Helmholtz, he'd look to the far south, "Let's hope we made the right choice today."

[HurferDurfer1 2978]

Coltaine slowly slogs through the snows of the Yatl Waste, a fitful  flickering glow of magic surrounding his figure, beating back the constant wind and snow in that dreadful  place. Draped in the stark white furs of a cold bear he had slain earlier in the saint week. A formidable creature he had thought to himself at the time, having had to use a host  unpleasant spells and cantrips to bring the beast down, something he always sought to avoid. It would not be good to be noticed slinging sorcery around in such a wanton fashion. He had managed to get by unnoticed in his meager keep thus far, no Vaeyl Order man had he seen had ever come close to his abode. Onwards he would travel, on one his lone scouting treks through the drifts and crags of the Yatl Waste, a journey he made once a month. The benefit of being dead, he never had to sleep. 

In time he would make his way to the fort he had thought long abandoned and decrepit, that of Thandvar. 

From a distant precipice he would quickly take note of activity, quietly cursing to himself. 

"This can be nothing but bad news, the worst kind of news their is! No not good at all, Order is on the prowl. Expanding outwards,

what has stirred them to this, what are they looking for? I gotta make sure they

dont get the portion of the dust that was the Oathstone i managed to keep."

Without another word he would turn away,  making for his home with all haste

 

 

                                                                                                   

[sandey0000 216]

Karl One-eye would still be out cold in one of the Vaeyl Strongholds

[ScreamingDingo 20568]

Moved to The Great Library. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.

 

If you feel this is a mistake, please contact myself or any FM and we'll restore it.