It has been a day since you had forged your pact and vowed your lives upon this course of action. Most had sought to say farewell to friends and family, while others had taken the time for self contemplation. The time seemed to move more quickly then any had perceived.
They had appointed their meeting to occur in a deserted section of tunnel quite a ways up in the stead itself. None had questioned the mule skinner on the area as they had assumed it to coincide with his direct access to the mount's surface.
Asbjørn had risen earlier then he had in quite some time. He had collected the mules from the duergar's clanhold and guided them to this zenith with only minor difficulty. He had taken his time examining them thourougly and noted that they were outfitted with saddles, gear and rations for weeks. There were seven, though only they only numbered six. He had assumed the seventhn for carrying supplies and extra provisions or should something befall one of the others. Thoriken had been quite some assistance to him and he would certainly have not been so quick without his help.
They both stand at ease, going over their equipment and checking their gear to make certain all is in order. The trek would indeed be long and arduous and they had no illusions that they would have a dangerous path ahead of them.
In the distance a dwarf emerges with a backpack brimming with various gear, his face reddened from the hike. His breath seems labored and he rest and catches his breath before he can speak, "Whoa, thats quite a hike. Guess all this hiking will be good for me," as Barur smiles toward the pair. He wears a high quality set of leather clothing that looks like it might cushion some blows. At his hip hangs a small blade that appears more akin to a giant dagger then a sword. Upon his back hangs a crossbow that does not appear to have ever been used. He nods toward a mule and begins to sort through his possesions and ready himself for departing.
"I think I'll call you 'Nimble' if that's alright?" as he pats his mule, with a look toward the pair.
"Aye, whateve ya be wantin to, it'll walk all da same," replies the mule skinner with a slight grin.
Approaching the designated meeting point, Ferous is happy to see his new companions ahead.
Though as he does near them, he realizes that they are short two.
"Hail, so we wait for two."
Ferous looks to the pack animals with a bit of fear, and it is appearant. He aproaches them then stops and then looks to the others.
"My experience with these beasts is seriously lacking." Ferous gives a slight laugh at his own inexperience and looks about.
Ertryd arrives at the meeting point, quiet and contemplative from the test of her abilities the previous night. The tomes that she aquired are well-wrapped and tucked safely away in her pack, while the bagpipes are stored in her best hip case. Some of the exhaustion of the previous night remains, as if one night's sleep couldn't lift the ehaustion of such an undertaking.
She smiles to her companions as they see her enter the tunnel. "Asbjorn, would you have a suggested mule for a chanter who has never ridden before?" She is in good spirits despite the exhaustion.
"They ain't too hard, jis takes some gettin used too's all. They's real sure footed and they'll tell ya iff'n da paths unstable. I ain't never been wit dese 'ere, but they's all likely fine. Jis take yer choice and check through yer saddlebags, seems ol Osk dun provided da 'ssentials," as Asbjorn looks them all over and chose two for the pair to ride. He leads the flat faced, shaggy mules over for them.
"Dese look good, can't say I know much bout ridin em dough" as he himself only had a minimal amount of training with the beasts.
"Guess we's jis waitin on Thoriken den..."
As you look through your saddlebags you find about two weeks of trail rations, a blanket and a few other essentials for the road. There are some wineskins that are full and a collection of cooking implements on the lone pack mule. The packmule also has a heavy bag loaded with what appears as old trading bars of gold.
"These yours?" asks Asbjorn to no one in particular.
Ferous looks over "his" mule. Listening to his new companion when he hears that they are just waiting on one other person.
"We also wait on Lady Dolastyr my friend, we wait for two."
Ferous turns back to his mule and the effects within the saddle bags.
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As he tightened the cinche and straps on his deep grey mule, Thoriken listened carefully to all Asbjørn had to tell of thew art of muleskinning. He then checked and rechecked his weapons and personal gear, ensuring he could draw an toss his hammer with out hindrance even while riding.
"Welm when ye girls are a reddy, Me and Shade here are. Asbjørn, if ye lead I can cover the rear and cover ur treks as we go." He states flatly.
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Ertryd chooses a mule and checks through the supplies in the saddlebags. Not high quality, but suitable. Her mind wanders in anticipation as she waits for Dolastyr to appear.
As if hearing her name, Dolastyr stepped around a bend and approached the group, her eyes lingering behind her. She had been spoken with at length by Osk the previous night and had become aware of some very frightening things about the cold world outside of Uerythtar and was not quite as headstrong in leaving as she knew the others were. She would never say she was worried, but the look upon her face and the nervousness of her appearance did little to hide her worry.
"Good morn all, I do apologize for my lateness," as she saddled up to a mule that did not appear taken. "Well, I guess all those trips of leading these brutes into the mines gave me a little knowledge," as she readied her pack before climbing upon it with a little ease.
"They's a thichskulled ting me dearie, but I tink we'll be fine," as Asbjorn begins rummaging through his bag.
"Well, I'mma guessin dats it, any o' ya'lll got anytin dats needs be said er done, dis'll be da spot," as he distributes swathes of dirty and crude fabric for covering your eyes. It appears the skinner was serious about not revealing his guild's secrets.
After carefully tying the fabric over your eyes, he strings the mules together and guides them through the rough and unused tunnels in this area. You all can feel the mules beneath you move and to some the feeling is a bit disconcerting indeed. The first sign that you are getting nearer the surface is the faint chill that seems to pervade that air and a slight movement of wind across your hands. The air is strange and frigid with a crisp smell of freshness that many of you are unaccustomed to.
The wind continues to blow more fiercely as you continue onward, becoming a very strong breeze. A howling can be heard as you can only assume you emerge from some crevice in the mounts side. The crunch of gravel and stone sounds different with no walls to echo its noise. A warming sensation seems to cover whatever skin is open and is a yet another strange sensation in this alien world.
After another few minutes you feel the team come to a halt and Asbjorn comes around to remove everyone's cloth to free your vision.
You are all looking out upon the great mounts of the Grey Peaks, many of which still have snow upon their summits. As the snow diminishes, it is replaced by various stone and granite that seems to comprise most of the mounts themselves. Sparse vegetation and trees scatter across the lower areas and thicken as one looks downward into the ravines and valleys that separate the mountains.
The trail appears very crude and covered with debris, as if this was something more akin to a converted game trail then something you had imagined within the stead itself.
Barur makes a whistling sound, "Ty’athalae," in a strange and foreign tongue. As he suddenly realizes that it likely none of his fellows might understand him he adds, "Its elven for peace through the absolute beauty of nature and harmony with your surrounding. I couldn't think of anything else to sum it up..." as he gazes for miles around him in wonder.
Dolastyr simply stands in absolute wonder, her eyes averted from the harsh light that seems to make her eyes water. She can barely make out the azure sky, but it seems to go on forever.
"I'll be givin ya a few, fore we go on, so's ta let yer eyes adjust an all," grunts Asbjorn as he sits comfortably upon his mule. He leaves them tied together still and he has chosen the lead animal. "Mite be a bit early mind ye, but keeps yer tools close by, no tellin what lurks in dese peaks and we donna be wantin no surprises."
Ertryd is unused to the cool air that brushes against her skin, and huddles closer within her cloak. When she feels the warmth on her face, she sighs in contentment. She has a hard time keeping her eyes open due to the level of brightness that she has never before experienced, but she is happy feeling the wind and sun, and listening to the new sounds around her while her eyes adjust. The outside world seems very chaotic in comparison to the orderly, controlled atmosphere inside the hold, but Ertryd feels a fondness for this new world already.
She considers Beldor's word choice and finds it apt. She muses on whether she should attempt to learn Elven, as the language sounds as if it expresses many complicated ideas.
Even this first step outside of the hold justifies her desire to leave. Ertryd is ready to learn more about this exciting new place. It hits her that the place she has called home for her 61 years is merely a tiny fraction of the larger world. She doesn't know how tiny, but just knowing that it will take two weeks to get to their destination is a sobering fact.
Looking across the scape laid out before him, Ferous feels his breath escape him. As he focuses on his companions, he begins to hear the voice in his head.
"You are so small, its no wonder your people have remained closed off. What possibly can you offer such a large place? What possibly can you offer these brave souls who will rely upon you to help them accomplish this goal?"
"What do you know of trade.. of commerce?"
Shifting in his uncofortable saddle, Ferous stares directly at Dolastyr and once again draws in the cold mountain air.
Ferous says to himself in almost a rhythmic pattern "I am Ferous Goldvein, Son of Sact, Blood of Sactum, Keeper of Dreck Khrumh."
Slowly, the voice quiets.
Last edited by Fly by Knight; 10-09-2009 at 11:52 AM.
After a few long minutes, Dolastyr's eyes seem a bit less dull and she can look upon the landscape and take everything in. She confesses, "I have never seen the sun, nor this realm before. It is nothing like the books have described..." in a breathless voice.
"We won't be gainin no ground dis way," states Asbjorn in a gruff manner, more reminiscent of someone familiar with the realm.
He immediately assumes the front of the line and begins the arduous descent from the high altitude. The silence is long, its solitude beckoning the companions to search the peaks and find why they themselves departed upon such a mission.
The gravel crunches under the weight of your mules and the trail is steep, Asbjorn cutting a sharp path through the side of the mount that quickly places some distance between the stead's mount and yourself.
He calls a halt after what seems like quite some time, "Best be gettin some food in yer bellies and takin in de mountain air," as he dismounts. He helps everyone off their mounts, but seems to stir a bit. "Uh, Hmmm, Well i gots sometin ta be sayin and dey's no way roun' it,' as he turns on the group somewhat unexpectedly. "I know's dis fella dat cum here wit da Adbarran's. He's a good fella and knows dese way's a mite bit better n' I and I asked him along,' as he holds up his hand expecting some issue. "He's a good lad and won I trust, we'll be meetin him atta bottom o' dis peak and I donna care what yea's be tinkin, I know's we'll be needin him,' hoping the group doesn't completely hate him over his choice.
"Fella's names Adiir, and a rock he'll be...."
The long trip down the mountain is a far from comfortable trip for Ferous.
Hearing the words that he can dismount, he almost leaps off of the mule, to be greeted with rider’s legs. He moves about shaking his legs to get the blood flowing again in his lower body.
As Asbjorn makes his announcement, Ferous looks to those of noble blood and then to those other members of the party.
“Asbjorn, I know you only by a hand shake. But you were chosen by a very wise Thane to come along on this journey. I trust your judgment. This Adiir, must have been part of Thane Osk’s plan, and his character will show when we meet him. All souls on this journey were chosen by him for some reason, and when we get to the bottom of this mount, we will see where this Adiir’s mettle lies.”
Ferous turns and begins to unload his shield from his mount.
"I'm o'bliged by dat, not real used ta be on no holy man's mishun so it'll be takin sum gettin used to," as he grins to no one in particular. He pulls out what appears to be some hard and stale dry bread and begins to furiously gnaw upon it like some hungry rat in the depths.
Barur seems to be wandering and looking intently at everything within his vision, only Asbjorn's stern warnings keeping him from a few areas that looked dangerous. "Can you smell that sweet smell of the trees?" noting the faint odor of pines and ceder.
"They look tiny from here, how tall are they actually?" as Dolastyr seems bewildered in this world of sky and light. Had she ever dreamed such a place existed she would have long ago made more efforts to visit it.
Ertryd breathes in the smell of the mountains, enjoying the fresh quality of the air, and the sweet smell of the trees. She visually explores her surroundings, taking in the size and shape of the trees, the appearance of small creatures diving through the air, and the unworked rock all about them. She peers up into the sky, trying to fathom what it is like to live in a world without a ceiling. She looks directly into the sun as she is searching the sky and her eyes water up and reflexively shut. Her eyes are still unused to the increased level of light, but Ertryd is taken in by the beauty and complexity of her surroundings.
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