Engerraund's Wanderlust

[Samson Option 9652]

 

 

Ambience Music

 

The moon hung like a scythe raised to cut and clear the timbers and long grasses strewn along the delta. A silhouette cast a modest shadow along the water’s edge as a man paced along the short beachhead, padding sand underneath worn moccasins. The silhouette paused and the shadow shifted as if the person turned to look back into the depths of the forest dotting the delta and the mouth of the river.

 

“Engerraund, come now, I think I found a map of the surrounding area!”

 

The silhouette cast its shadow back into the formless abyss of the forest. A few yards from a tall redwood on the edge of the forest, a campfire smoldered and coughed up embers. The youthful features of Engerraund came into view as the campfire colored his silhouette shades of taupe where his face shone and jet black where his long hair fell onto his shoulders full of curls. His face, though young, looked weathered with concern and stress.

 

“Arda, that map looks damp and reeks of wet hay,” Engerraund lamented. He swiped the map away, holding it taut above the grasp and lick of the flames as if trying to dry it.

 

“This map is much too damaged to discern anything from it, but thank you”

 

“I’ll keep looking,” Ardashir remarked as he gathered his personal effects. The two of them looked again at the moon floating brightly overhead. The thinness of its crescent may not be sharp enough to cut timber, but it looked like it could shave away the remaining hours of that night. The two stirred soil onto the campfire to weaken it and arranged their places to sleep.

[Samson Option 9652]

 

Ambience Music

 

The trek from the small beachhead to the abandoned mill took much of the day. Engerraund and Ardashir sauntered carefully across the damp grass and debris strewn around the wreck of a building. The two came to a small stream separating them from the mill, the water’s flow still strong enough to turn the millwheel even in its dilapidated state. They removed their moccasins and forded the river with little effort, grasping on each other’s arms as one or the other began to lose balance.

 

The mill’s state of abandonment and blight came into full view as Engerraund and Ardashir helped each other onto the other side of the stream and sat down to put their shoes back on. The entrance of the mill seemed to heave with decay and the smell of damp sawdust. Engerraund drew a handkerchief from his pocket and covered his mouth as they drew closer. The entire structure seemed to shutter like a dying oxen with each passing of the wind, the wood creaked like the joints of an old pack animal. The two gingerly dodged debris and blown thatch from the roof caught with each gust.

 

    The inside had an eerie quietness, the structure sheltering it from the weather outside. They stepped inside while eyeing the trusses suspiciously for damage.

 

“Careful now Enger, this thing looks like it may collapse the moment the wind decides,” Ardashir exclaimed warily. Ardashir stood at the entrance of the old mill while Engerraund ventured further inside.

[Samson Option 9652]

 

Ambience Music

 

The wind grew silent for the coming of rain. The old mill echoed the pitter-patter and the ground soon grew damp. With the dampness came the odor; an odor of wet hay and sawdust. The rank air in the mill soon filled every niche and crevice.

 

Engerraund perused each old chamber with handkerchief over his nose and mouth, grimacing when the handkerchief shifted and he drew in that sour tasting air. As he moved deeper into the carcass of the once operating mill, a new odor became apparent. He felt nauseous, not at the odor, but at the sight of flies making a beeline to one ominously dark chamber where the lumber usually would be kept. He made his way into the chamber and withdrew his face from an unseemly sight and gagged into his clothed shoulder.

 

There in the chamber lay a mass of flesh covered and coveted by the kind of flies who take to the task of decomposition. Engerraund looked just long enough to discern that the corpse had a head of goldenrod hair and the shape of a human. The ground around the corpse appeared terribly disturbed and deep marks could be seen underneath the body. At the sight of this, Engerraund darted back towards the entrance of the mill where Ardashir stood watch.

 

“Arda, I think we need to go. I just found a body and it appears looted.”

 

“Scum of the depths might be nearby, I heard a horse in the distance,” Ardashir claimed, whistling softly and beckoning Engerraund to follow him.

 

The two crouched and scrambled with their hands into a niche carved along the side of the stream. A gnarled tree stood over the niche like a guardian angel, its gnarled roots holding the tree up and over the niche and the length of the tree bowed forward towards the running stream. The two huddled beneath the tree and peered out between the roots back at the old mill as a horseman clad in armor trotted towards the entrance. Engerraund placed a reassuring hand on Ardashir’s shoulder as they watched with anticipation.

[Samson Option 9652]

 

The horseman scanned the horizon as the rain increased to a violent precipitation. The hooves of his horse underneath him seemed to sink into the mud, a sucking noise sounded each time the horse took a step. The horsemen trotted sideways, as if sweeping for movement in the distance. As mist rose due to the rain, the horseman grew in alarm as the humdrum of insects and small wildlife masqueraded as excitement and danger to his eye.

 

Ardashir slid down towards the stream. Engerraund kept his head nestled in the roots, peering out and spying the horseman’s position. The two of them signed relief as the rain increased. With the tree and ledge overlooking the stream as cover, Ardashir unbuckled his quiver and bow-case and withdrew his recurve bow and a single arrow. When the horseman’s gaze left the stream, turning once more, Engerraund nodded and helped Ardashir up to look over the ledge.

 

With one knee planted in the wet clay dotting the side of the stream, Ardashir took the arrow and nocked his arrow. His extended arm, holding the bow, raised like the hands of a clock slowly counting down towards an inevitable moment.

 

“Enger, how many yards away is he?”

 

“50 yards I’d suppose”

 

“Thought so”, the arrow whistling as Ardashir spoke. The arrow dug between the shoulder blades, hitting the horseman as he turned his back towards him. The force of the blow seemed to startle the horse and it broke into a gallop. The body jerked backwards and fell with a hard thud. Engerraund climbed up and over the ledge and helped Ardashir up after he packed up his bow and strapped the quiver back onto him. They made their way through the pouring torrent to the slain horseman and to make sense of the scene before them.

[Samson Option 9652]

 

Ambience Music

 

    Engerraund and Ardashir came up to the fallen soldier and turned the body over in the rain. Blood mixed with the pooling rainwater in the indentation the corpse left, thinning and creating a pinkish fluid that ran down their hands as they searched the dead body. Ardashir plucked the helmet and tossed it between his hands a few times, giving the hollow armor a curious look.

 

    “I’d say that looks Nordling, the pockets in the front-facing armor plate for the eyes and how it curves to a rounded point where the nose would be shielded. I could be wrong,” Engerraund observed. Ardashir put on the helmet, fitting it and peering out.

 

    “Eh, I’d say let me hold onto the helmet. They see a Farfolk like you, as swarthy as you are, they wouldn’t be fooled. I’m fair enough of skin to where I might be able to pass as Nordling if needed,” Ardashir took off the helmet begrudgingly, nodding and handing it to Engerraund.

 

    “You think he came from one of the settlements around here or one of those roving and raving tribes?” Ardashir asked.

 

    “I can’t say for sure. A single horseman like this though suggests he may have been scouting,” Engerraund replied, standing himself up and looking back at the decrepit mill.

 

    “You think he put down that person in there?” Ardashir questioned. Engerraund shrugged without a word. The two walked past the mill and up a clearing leading to a hill. The evening led to dusk and the sun’s last presence cast scarlet and red over the clouds that separated and took with it the rain. The two of them walked to the hill and used it to observe their surroundings with greater certainty and with a longing for such a picturesque view. An expanse of water stretched to the horizon before them, a wintry landscape vaguely discernible to the eye draped hills in the far distance on the one of the far sides of the sea.

 

    “As much as I’d love to sit and take in the sight, we’d better keep moving. Someone will miss that scout soon and his absence will only conjure his liege’s suspicion,” Engerraund said matter-of-factly. The two continued on down the hill towards the sea outstretched before them.

[Samson Option 9652]

 

Ambience Music

 

“Don’t you think we should find the nearest settlement?” Ardashir pondered. The two of them walked along a trampled path, a rough road along the thousands that diverge from the main highways of Arcas.

 

    “You know I don’t want to take the risk,” Engerraund replied in an unamused tone.

 

    “Why?” Ardashir further prodded.

 

    “Depending on which settlement we find, they’ll rough you up for being Farfolk, or they’ll harangue us at the least. If we landed in a Nordling’s purview, we also killed one of their own if you haven’t forgotten.”

 

    “I can deal with any of the Kaedrini if that is what you mean,” Ardashir retorted.

 

    Engerraund stopped in his tracks and looked Ardashir in the eyes.

 

    “You think you know what is out there. Times have changed Arda, this isn’t the old world anymore. This is the new world, your shelter has hid you for a while, but your exile has misplaced your perception and spat on your optimism,” Engerraund lectured sternly.

 

    “Be that as it may, let me see this new world and learn for myself,” Ardashir commented matter-of-factly. 

 

Engerraund blinked a few times, taken aback. With a heave and a sigh, Engerraund continued walking with Ardashir closely following. Traces of civilization could be found along the path they walked. Flocks of sheep meandered through the valley, plucking at the spare grass flanking the path. Buildings in good repair dotted the landscape. As they continued, snowflakes began to dance in the air and fell on both of them as they trekked.

[Samson Option 9652]

 

Ambience Music

 

The snow fell enough to decrease the visibility, but their eyes did not deceive them. The stout walls of the citadel of Tahu’lareh emerged in the distance, gusts carrying snow obscured them, but their immense size could be discerned. Engerraund and Ardashir looked to one another curiously. Their eyes lowered to find their road forking with snowflakes dancing like sprites on the cobblestone. They first looked to the left and found the road winding down rolling hills towards the citadel. They looked to the right and the sudden sight made Ardashir feel like his soul leaped out of his body with surprise.

 

There came a being, tall and slender, with hair so white that its strands could be mistaken as snow picked up by the wind. His skin looked pale enough to be camouflage in the weather. His eyes pierced, a glowering sapphire blue, liked a creature from the netherworld. Ardashir swallowed his tongue, nervous at such a ***** sight, but Engerraund placed a reassuring hand on Ardashir’s shoulder and stepped in front of him.

 

    “Is there trouble?” the elf inquired, looking past Engerraund at Ardashir.

 

    “None whatsoever, my friend here has never seen your kind before,” Engerraund commented, looking behind the elf to find more walking as a company.

 

    “You act like he was only born yesterday, mind telling us what he is doing so far from home?” the elf further questioned. The rest of his camaraderie filed behind the first elf, their armor and demeanor that of a military contingent.

 

    “Mali’fenn, please, we aren’t in any trouble. We found ourselves here fleeing some Nordlings,” Engerraund replied with visible exhaustion. Ardashir patted his stomach, feigning hunger with his eyes downcast.

 

    “You’ll come with us to Tahu’lareh then. We will walk you through the streets and if someone knows you for worse men than you say you are, then we will throw you in the dungeons,” the Ivae’Fenn soldier stated sternly. The rest of his company flanked Engerraund and Ardashir and instructed them to turn and walk with them. Ardashir stared at the face of one of the soldiers, whose eyes glowed blue like sun striking the clear ocean, as they made their way with the military escort to the Snow Elven city.

[Samson Option 9652]

 

Ambience Music

 

    The Ivae’Fenn contingent escorted Ardashir and Engerraund into Tahu’lareh. The streets sang the Elven tongue and the din of rebuilding can be heard from the distance. Ardashir felt denuded as the eyes of passing Snow Elves, colored like rare gemstones, passed over him and Engerraund. Engerraund kept pace with the soldiers flanking him and motioning Ardashir to pay attention where he stepped. Only the children murmured anything in the direction of the two; the adult Elves walked by in disinterest or oblivion.

 

    The soldiers halted at a plaza before the main road and presented the two before the public, some gathered and some kept walking with their heads turned. Engerraund wore a dour and impatient look on his face while Ardashir gathered himself in the alien setting.

 

The soldiers pushed Engerraund and Ardashir further in front of them.

 

"They treat us like slaves brought to market,” Ardashir said in clear frustration.

 

"Or like hetairoi to be bought and bedded,” Engerraund replied cynically. Ardashir looked perplexed and shot a glance at Engerraund..

 

"Prostitutes Arda,” Engerraund chuckled before continuing, “I guess I'd feel more awkward if I were a woman. They'd stare at our hips then; they are only looking at our faces now. Hopefully this charade will be over soon."

 

Engerraund felt a slap on his shoulder like a schoolteacher's scolding. He looked behind his shoulder with derision, but making sure to not look any of the soldiers in the eye. The soldiers announced their two captives and asked for anyone to come forward if they witnessed them committing any thefts or other wrongdoings. The crowd seemed to shrug in unison, none recognizing the two of them. A few minutes passed as the soldiers continued their calls, but no refrains met them save for silence.

 

“You two are far from home and we will keep an eye on you. Alas, we can only let you both go. It seems your swarthy friend is still beside himself with the sight of us. Welcome to the land of the Snow Elves,” the leader of the continent declared. The soldiers snickered and went their separate ways leaving Engerraund and Ardashir as they stepped out onto the cobblestone road running through Tahu’lareh.

[Samson Option 9652]

 

Ambience Music

 

Engerraund and Ardashir walked into a well-kept shop, one of few amid the bustling construction in Tahu’lareh. A tip they got off the street led them to a tailor and his neatly folded stacks of fabrics. The colors looked as vibrant as the eyes of the Elves that stared at them in passing on their way to this shop. In the far corner sat a female Elf, as swarthy as Ardashir, with a protruding monocle from her left eye giving focus to the fine stitching she was engrossed in. Her fingers stopped fidgeting between the robe being worked and the thread she gingerly used.

 

“Not often do I see humans interested in my wares, what can I do for you all?,” the tailor asked.

 

“I need three blankets, wool or any kind of good fabric, for our travels. One for myself, two for my friend here,” Engerraund replied, motioning to Ardashir when he mentioned the two blankets. He gathered minas into his hand, counting them neatly in his palm and handing them to the tailor in exchange for the blankets. Engerraund and Ardashir took turns shrouding themselves and having the other person adjust and tuck them in place and walked out of the shop. They hobbled together and made their way back to the entrance gate of the city.

 

“This cold is painful Enger, I haven’t a clue how you can bear it,” Ardashir said with clear frustration, drawing the layered blankets closer around his throat to protect him.

 

“Arda, people are shaped by the environment more so than you can imagine. My folk came from the mountains, yours the steppe. We crave the peak and its stoic arm holding up the sky and your people loved to peer up at the vastness of it all on those wide plains,” Engerraund mused. Ardashir looked at him with a feeling of nostalgia visible on his face.

 

“What say you and I go somewhere that may be a semblance of what once was?” Engerraund suggested.

 

“I would like that, if nothing else, it’ll be nice to feel the beating sun again,” Ardashir said poignantly.

 

“We will have to set out for the south and it will take us a long while Arda, but I’ve never been one to shy away from an adventure,” Engerraund replied, making room for foot traffic entering the city as they departed from Tahu’lareh.

[Samson Option 9652]

 

Ambience Music

 

The long road winded side by side like a snake motioning through desert sands. The direction inevitably pointed south, but it’s winding took them west and east. Engerraund and Ardashir looked at the high cliffs of Irrinor in the distance, stout oaks branching up over the cliff faces. All manners of Elvenkind passed them, some as swarthy as Ardashir, some as pale as Engerraund, and still some as dark as charred wood still smoking in a fire. Dusk began to veil the road and the travellers thinned. Engerraund and Ardashir stepped away from the main road and moved towards one of the cliff faces over which a few cypresses dangled curiously overlooking the land.

 

    “If we are lucky, we may find some fallen debris to use for camp Enger,” Ardashir remarked while looking up and taking in the entire height of the Irrinorean flora.

 

    “True, but let’s try to find a gully or grove. Somewhere we might better hide, I don’t know what sort of bandits lurk in these parts,” Engerraund replied, scanning the landscape.

 

    Engerraund sat and slid into one gully and found its depth acceptable and motioned for Ardashir to follow. They took turns clearing the fallen and decayed leaves to make three spaces: one for their campfire and two for their sleeping. Ardashir leaped out of the gully and went about collecting debris, ducking between trees and through glades beneath the Irrinor cliff face. Engerraund took the blankets and tied them like parachutes, filling the newly formed cavity beneath the fold with leaves to create makeshift pillows for the two of them.

 

    In the distance, from the direction of the main road, a flame flickered. Ardashir noticed it as he made his way back to the gully with an armful of branches and tinder. He looked once to Engerraund and found him working in oblivion. The flame danced, as if spooked by Ardashir and grew brighter. Ardashir saw the pale glow of the flame splash across the face of an Elf whose skin appeared so dark that it swallowed the glow whole - tattoos decorated the face of the mysterious mage in a grotesque design. Ardashir dropped his arms and rushed to the gully.

[The_Mad_Skylord 28]

(God this is bland. :Idk:)

[Samson Option 9652]

 

Ambience Music

 

Engerraund felt his shoulders snap like the sinews of a slingshot and tasted damp clay, its texture like liver - bland yet heavy in the mouth. The sensation of heat and the illumination of flame snapped the rest of his body back together and he darted upward to find Ardashir on top of him. Another fireball whistled over the gully like onager artillery only to crash a few feet from Ardashir and Engerraund. Ardashir rolled off of him and reached for his bow quiver and one of the many arrows spilled out and lost in the disturbed ground covered in dead leaves. He reached clumsily and rolled over to find his own sword sticking upright in the ground like an Arthurian boon.

 

“Mali’ker in the treeline, I only saw him, but he may have others,” Ardashir quickly indicated to Engerraund.

 

Engerraund leaned into the side of the gully to hide. Another fireball grazed the gully’s edge and fell in, catching a large pile of leaves on fire. Ardashir nocked his arrow and peaked over the edge, letting one off blindly. Both of them walked through the gully and took positions behind trees at the edge of a clearing. Silence fell as the dark elf ceased his assault and Engerraund and Ardashir looked at each other and past one another. The silence lasted for a few minutes with no sound save for the clamor of wildlife in the distance.

 

“I’m not hearing anything or seeing anything. Best if we get back on the road and head for the nearest settlement,” Engerraund whispered, breaking into a brisk pace and gathering his effects from the gully.

 

Engerraund and Ardashir walked back onto the main road, looking north and south, and only finding fog and the cacophony of insects either way they looked. They broke into a jog due south and took a left to find an incredibly tall arch with two gongs hanging and an indiscernible sign hidden in the fog and midnight. They made their way inside and found a light, causing them to duck for a moment, only to realize the light emanated from a lantern hung outside what appeared to them to be a tavern. They made their way inside, careful to close the door behind them.