The Calling: Beginnings (Part 1)

[Kitharsis]

The two guards at the gate grip their weapons tightly.  Their eyes are drilling into the man lumbering towards them in the brisk morning air.  He looks like some kind of barbarian that got blown off his mountain from the north.  Even though they can see their breath from the chill, the man wears no shirt.  The scars covering his body betray the toughness and experience he has accrued through the years. 

The guards are apprehensive, but they let him pass through with a stiff nod.  One would consider them foolish, but the platoon of armored men standing just inside the gate shows otherwise.  They all turn and stare at the scarred man, causing him to pause in his step.  Some stand from their seated position.  Others crack their necks and knuckles.  They seem on edge and ready for anything.

A tall, lanky fellow nearly sprints over to the lumbering man. 

"You!"  He shouts.  A crossbow slung over his shoulder bounces with each step.  "You must join us!"  He stops a yard away from the newcomer, staring intently.

"We're hunting a beast.  It has already killed a man, and burnt down my damn inn!  Yes, yes.  You will join us!"  He says with enthusiasm.

"Emery!"  One of the armored men shouts scoldingly.  "You're liable to get your head chopped off before we even leave town, acting like that." 

The lanky man, Emery, scowls and ducks as if struck.  The other man calmly walks over to them with a welcoming smile.

"Now then, I'm Alec, Guard Captain.  What Emery is saying is true.  We are hunting a beast today, and from the looks of you we could use your help.  Might I ask your name, friend?  And if I could be so bold, your assistance?"

Bjorn Halfskir has been given quite a welcome to this rural keep.  And it seems he has little time to decide.  The group of soldiers looks ready to depart.

Alec adds, "We'll put you up in a room for the night, along with a plate of dinner for your trouble."


------


The wheels of the wagons grind against the hard packed dirt.  Occasionally a rogue stone sends a jolt through the line.  Each of the wagons bounce over it in time. 

Bounce... Bounce... Bounce...

The caravan leader, Mitoli, sits at the head of the middle wagon.  His thick mustache twitches as the bounce from the stone shakes his body.  A young monk sits beside him, his eyes casually taking in the copse of trees that are passing by.  Jin has been traveling with Mitoli for about a month now.

As the monk was passing through a town, he was nearly starving.  His silver had run out, and no one was looking to toss a few his way.  He found himself in an alley behind a tavern, waiting until the cook tossed out any leftover scraps or heels of bread.  Mitoli was passing through, and without a thought he asked the lad if he wanted to share his night's meal.  Mitoli was in poor health at the time, and being in Jin's presence made him feel noticeably better.  On a whim, the caravan leader asked the monk to join him until he could get on his feet.  An assured meal, a few silvers, and aiding a kind hearted person such as Mitoli was difficult to pass up.

"Hey there, Jin."  Mitoli says, with a nudge with his elbow.  "Go grab a water skin and see if Afanen and Ragnar are thirsty.  It's been a while since we started rolling today."

About two weeks ago, Afanen Blodwen and Ragnar Thorburn came upon a traveling caravan that was meandering through the Treymara region.  Mitoli propositioned them as guards for a time, seeing their weapons.  They had no other direction after their departure from their home, having left so quickly.  Considering that a pocketful of silver was better than nothing, the couple accepted the offer.

It has been easy work.  There are few bandits these days, and Mitoli seems to have the devils luck when it comes to skirting around danger.  During the few stops you have made you heard reports of bandit raids on a few of the traveling wagons.  There are murmurs of other strange attacks, but most folk wave those away as tall tales.

Afanen and Ragnar are on foot, walking on either side of the wagons.  The mules pulling the caravan have endurance, but speed is not their strong suit.  It is quite easy to keep up with them.

Mitoli cups a hand to his mouth and calls to them, "See anything interesting yet?"  He chuckles and lowers his hand.  "Wonderful morning for traveling.  I do think the sun is going to burn this chill away and give us a nice mild day.  Don't you think so, Ragnar?"

[Shadow Chorus]

Bjorn fixes the captain with a stern stare, his gaze falling over all of the gathered soldiers, his glare seeming stern and almost glowering.

But then, as if in a complete reversal, he gives a smile that almost seems ill-fitting on one as scarred and worn as he is.

"Yes, I will aid you, of course." placing his open right palm with fingers spread on his heart in the traditional  þrekstaðr salute. "In taka yðvarr beiða. I am bound to your quest. Please, allow me the time to prepare. It will only take me a moment."

The berserker strides past the group to the most open area of the camp and sits down with his legs crossed, drawing his weapons and laying them crossed in front of him. Pulling the wolf's pelt over his eyes, he plants his hands on his knees and begins to utter some strange prayer.

"Óðinn, in biðja yðvarr speki, skafa me yðvarr vald. láta yðvarr nafn fá me logn. láta yðvarr hylli fá me þrek. láta yðvarr rún vísa me stígr. in biðja yðvarr mannvirðing. at vér knátta hitta inn Valhallan."

A fire struck up around Bjorn, and its flames fed into his frame. He took a deep breath of the fire as it was absorbed into his body, and his muscles tensed with renewed energy. When he lifted the wolf's pelt from his eyes, there was more life to them, as if a flame had been lit in his soul that gave him new strength. He seemed almost larger than before, a if his muscles had been filled to the brim with power, almost as if he had gotten a full night's rest from his appeal to his gods. Standing and taking his weapons in each hand, he turned and faced the Guard captain.

"Lead the way captain. My blades are yours."

[Kitharsis]

"By all means," Alec offers a slight bow as Bjorn strides past and begins to prepare himself.

The platoon goes back to double checking supplies and equipment, although they never fully take their eyes off of Bjorn.  Alec stands with his arms crossed watching the man as he mutters an odd prayer.

A fire springs to life around the barbarian.  The entire town freezes in their tracks.  They watch as the flames gather and absorb into Bjorn's body.  All eyes are on him as the barbarian stands and addresses Alec.

"Lead the way captain.  My blades are yours."

Emery shouts a curse and raises his crossbow at the "Damned demon spawn."  Alec has precious few moments to analyze the situation.  The wolf pelt, combined with the sudden fire match the description of the beast that had attacked the town a few nights ago.  But Bjorn was seemingly unaware of the attack, and why would the beast waltz into town and cheerily agree to hunt itself down?

"Hold, Emery!"  The lanky innkeep's finger is resting on the trigger of the crossbow.  His long face is contorted into the meanest scowl you could imagine.

"Dammit!"  Alec leaps and pushes Emery and the crossbow off target at just the last second.  The bolt whizzes past Bjorn and digs itself into the packed dirt behind him.  The guard captain tears the crossbow from Emery's grip and shoves it into the hands of a waiting platoon woman behind him.

"He is not the beast, just a fool Caller with terrible timing."  Alec narrows his eyes at Bjorn.  "At least he better be, otherwise our hunt will be over before it began."

The platoon woman holding Emery's crossbow clears her throat.  "It's not the same color fur."  She points to the wolf skin draped across Bjorn's shoulders.  "Not hardly.  The fur we found was bright red.  His doesn't match at all."

Until now, one of the individuals of the group hasn't made a peep.  A man wearing plainclothes steps up and studies Bjorn.  He has two short swords hanging from his belt.  A red bandana holds back his shoulder length hair.

"Just a fool Caller."  He says calmly.  "I'll keep an eye on him."

Alec looks from the man in the red bandana, to Bjorn, and back again.  "Fine then.  We haven't seen a Caller for many years, and given the situation we're in it's good to have you on our side."  The guard captain mimics Bjorn's open handed salute over his heart, hoping the gesture is enough to assure Bjorn of his trust. 

"Move out!"

---

Daccio Bajihri stretches her arms and yawns.  She shuffles around, trying to get comfortable on the pile of ferns she found.  Her make-shift bed is situated behind a row of bushes along the road.  She is covered well enough that no one should be able to see her unless she wanted them to.  It is nearly mid-day, the perfect time for a nap.

Sleep almost finds her, but a tingling of her metal sight ruins it.  It starts small, but before long she can tell that a large amount of metal is making its way toward her.  She can start to hear footprints and voices as the bulk of metal approaches.  Her curiosity gets the better of her.

Daccio peeks her head out of the bushes and finds a platoon of soldiers walking down the road in her direction.  Most of them are wearing polished breastplates with shields on their backs and swords at their hips.  Some carry bows and crossbows with a quiver on their back.  Three other men follow behind.  The large one wears leather skins and seems to be missing his shirt.  It was warming up since the morning.  But it was still not quite warm enough to warrant going shirtless.  The lanky one wears plainclothes with a crossbow on his back and a scowl on his face.  The third is average height and also wears plainclothes accented with a red bandana.

A soldier at the front of the line points in her direction and shouts, "Ambush in the bushes!"

In a surge the platoon rushes forward.  Swords are drawn and arrows knocked.  Alec is at the front of the charge with a determined grin.  He is straining to see who or what is hiding in the bushes.  His hand is held in the air waiting to give the signal to fire.

"Identify yourself!  Or you'll be making an impression of a pincushion very soon!" 

Daccio Bajihri's peaceful mid-day nap has taken quite a turn for the worst.

[Shadow Chorus]

Bjorn seems unfazed by the various threats and surprised reactions around him, even the crossbow, as if he didn't notice them. However, he fixed Alec with a look that almost seemed to be a knowing smirk.

"Foolish? That prayer was for the sake of your protection. I'd hesitate to call it foolish." He gave his twin weapons a short twirl in his hands before preparing to follow the group as they moved out, striding to the side of the regiment but still moving with them, providing the distance they likely sought from him but still keeping pace.

[Daccio]

Daccio's peaceful mid-day nap has taken quite a turn for the worse, and to top it off, she was grumpy because she had just about fallen asleep.

She stumbled out of the bushes and onto the road, long legs stepping over the undergrowth. She yawned almost unconcerdedly and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands sleepily. She wore a long dark grey cloak with the hood pulled up, hiding her hair, but it was clear she was a pretty young woman.

She looked up and jumped at the sight of all of the men with leveled weapons at her. Daccio held out her hands to indicate that she wasn't holding any weapon and as her cloak opened, she wore tight black trousers and a sleeveless black shire, revealing swirling tattoos starting at the base of her wrist and running up under the shirt. At her belt was two knives, but they were sheathed. She wore dark boots made of soft leather

"Uh, hey. I didn't do anything, what's this?" She demanded, motioning to the weapons

[Faidth]

Even before leaving their humble homes in Oakvale, Afanen and Ragnar had learned to always keep their weapons at hand in case they were needed. However, you can imagine what a stir it caused if one was to carry their greataxe or hammer on their person to and from church. It had been a bone of contention with both Afanen’s father, and the local clergy. Well-ingrained habits are hard to break, and it was for this reason, that despite the absence of any threat, Ragnar walked with his greataxe in hand, the long handle leaning flat and fast against his brawny shoulder.

Ragnar eyed the sky at Mitoli’s comments upon the weather. The old man had been quite pleasant company, and his young travelling companion seemed to have a certain charisma that made him endearing without even trying to be. Though the boy had the qualities of a monk, he was far removed from the stories that Ragnar had heard in his lifetime. Ragnar had taken quite a shine to the lad, even attempting to show him a bit about how to wield the axe, though the weapon was likely heavier than the boy himself. Even Afanen, usually begrudging conversation with those she wasn’t well accustomed to, had spoken at length with the boy, wanting to learn as much as she could about the lands he hailed from and how he wielded the bo he carried.

“Well, sir, sky looks mighty fine to me,” remarks Ragnar with a grin. “Couldn’t ask for a better day in more pleasant company.” He could practically feel Afanen glaring at him from the other side of the carriage. She knew he was lying. In fact, she was probably working her sniffer right now to scent it out. It was hard to tell when it would happen, but there was certainly a storm coming, and both of them knew it.

“As for seeing anything interesting… can’t say I’ve seen anything interesting. At least, not in the last couple hours.” He gives a meaningful glance in Afanen’s direction, as he can’t see her over the wagon. However, he can practically feel her blushing.  They had thought it best to each guard a side of the wagon, with both paying heed to the rear as well. Though his view of her was obscured, it was difficult to hide his excitement about journeying with his oldest and dearest friend. There had certainly been some bumps along the way, but since leaving Oakvale, Ragnar had become increasingly optimistic about their future.

“Well, I’ve seen plenty of interesting things,” comments Afanen. “Such as that rather brazen squirrel that just made off with the remnants of your breakfast, Ragnar. You should really tie your pack tighter. You’re a walking cornucopia for these creatures.”

Afanen's disposition, too, had taken a turn for the better since departing her home. Funny how leaving the only life you'd ever known could have such a positive affect on one's humor. Though she missed her father, and worried what had happened in the aftermath of her hasty departure, she knew as a long standing member of the council he would receive condolences rather than condemnations for his child's unfortunate "condition."

After all, hadn't the other townsfolk warned him about marrying an outsider? Unlike the other residents of Oakvale, Kalia Blodwen's complexion was bronze opposed to white, and her hair dark rather than light. She had been a peculiar traveler from the south, a native woman of one of the primitive tribes. It would be obvious Magnus had not failed his daughter. His wife was to blame for their only child being tainted with the Calling.

As for Ragnar's absence, Afanen knew that, sadly, his father would likely be far too drunk to even realize Ragnar was missing, at least until he needed his son's help stumbling home from the tavern.

The townfolk would likely assume that Ragnar, ever brave and constant, had followed his former friend turned abomination into the woods to capture her. In fact, they may even assume she ate him due to the absence of a body. Afanen chuckles at the thought.

"What's so funny?" asks Ragnar.

"Your cowlick," returns Afanen teasingly. Ragnar had always been needlessly self-conscious about how a small spot in the back of his hair stood out at an unruly angle, no matter how much he tried to smooth it.

Ragnar frowns and reflexively runs his left hand through his hair to flatten it. "Haha, Fan, very funny. You should take that show on the road since you fancy yourself a jester."

"I thought we already had," smiles Afanen goodnaturedly.

[Kitharsis]

Alec slows his charge and waves his hand in the air dismissively.  The rest of the platoon stops their charge and lowers their weapons.

"At ease."  He says with a bit of disappointment.

The guard captain closes the distance between himself and Daccio.  He holds out his hands similar to how Daccio is, showing that he similarly means no harm.

"It is rather dangerous around here, m'lady.  We mistook you for a beast that has caused us a great deal of trouble.  Apologies for the hasty charge.  We're actually hunting the beast at the moment."

He frowns and rubs his chin hair with a chainmail covered hand.  "We're quite a distance from the safety of our walls.  I can tell that you can handle yourself, but with a creature like that running around I can't in good conscience leave you out here alone.  Please, come with us."

You can tell that the rest of the platoon is on edge.  Some of them study Daccio and her odd attire.  Others are scanning their surroundings.  Concern is clearly marked on all of their faces.  The tall lanky man in the back seems in a particularly sour mood.  He glances at the large scarred man with a scowl occasionally.

[Daccio]

Daccio lowered her hands, her cloak falling back around her. The hood was still pulled up and she made no move to change that. Daccio grumbled under her breath. Something about being woken up at absurd times of the day, before nodding. If they were going to think her higher than her station, she was not going to discourage that.

"Very well, I agree" She said it in such a way that it almost sounded as if she had suggested the idea, and he had willingly agreed to it. She glanced at the large scarred man, noted him as being seemingly unnafiliated with the others and moved over to follow the group, scanning the rest of the soldiers. She used her metal sight to distinguish what weapons were made out of metal. Her look returned to Alec

"What is this beast you hunt? It obviously has you on edge." She asked.

[Archdemon Stu]

It had been quite some time since Jin had heard anything from pursuing forces, left with few hints as to Jin's whereabouts aside from sunny weather, increased rates of health in sporadic villages, and strange behavioral patterns of crops.  He was far from his homelands, and as long as he did not use his powers, he would be impossible to locate.  He was finally coming to believe their pursuit was too fruitless to continue, and was feeling comfortable having found some companions to travel with now that he had lost his pursuers.  Afterall, Mitoli had a strange gift of staying out of trouble; a trait Jin hoped would rub off.  Or at least that's what Jin told himself these days, right before he would sigh and have to admit to himself that he was also incredibly desperate for food when Mitoli found him.

The world outside of the monastery had been rough to say the least.  He knew he had much to learn, and was eager to do so.  The matters of the caravan that Mitoli dealt with were still well above his head, but the discussions regarding martial arts drew a great common ground between himself, Afanen, and Ragnar.  Jin turned his palms upward, and stretched his palms toward the sky, feeling the gentle soreness of a great workout run up his back, marveling at the sheer weight of Ragnar's weapon of choice.  While he had been meaning to test his strength with Afanen's warhammer as well, it seemed she was even more interested in the bo.  Sadly, his skills as a teacher were not on par with her skills as a warrior as of yet, and he had been pondering for some time on ways to improve so he could show her the intricacies and flow of the staff.

Afanen was somewhat stern, and had a powerful hunger for self-improvement.  Ragnar was incredibly warm, and perhaps brought a light to the caravan brighter than Jin's.  Though many of the philosophies suggested against seeking to become like others, there was a part of Jin that saw them as wonderful role-models.

He felt a familiar bump from Mitoli's elbow.  A strange show of endearment he was not used to, but had come to enjoy.  Upon Mitoli's request, the young monk nodded and gave a friendly grunt.  With one agile maneuver, Jin was on top of the wagon, and began digging for water skins.  Seconds later, he raised two above his head victoriously.  He waved them enthusiastically over the sides of the wagon.

"Water for the love birds?" he asked, his eyes squinting as he giggled at his own immaturity.  "Also, I happen to know that cowlicks build character!  Some of the greatest men in history have had cowlicks!" He raised a brow, his eyes darting about in thought as he attempted to retrieve the names.  "Well... I don't have any specific examples... but I'm sure there must be!"

[Kitharsis]

Mitoli wears his usual carefree grin during the exchange between his newest traveling companions.  He didn't typically bring along so many strangers, but in the past few months a good amount of his crew decided to part ways.  Jin and the couple from Oakvale are great company, and the caravan leader is happy to have them along.

"Oh yes, Jin.  Cowlicks and great men go hand in hand.  Sad to say I don't have one.  I'm afraid I'll never elevate myself to the greatness of a cowlicked man."  Mitoli lets out a hearty belly laugh.

"Say then, we're coming up on a small place by the name of Keep Yond.  A minor lord keeps charge of the town, but he hasn't done much in his old age.  Few have even seen him outside of his own chambers for some time now.  Alec, the guard captain, runs things with the lord's words behind him."  Mitoli takes a swig from his own water skin before continuing.

"Well, thats nothing we're concerned with.  It has high walls and soft beds, two things I wouldn't mind taking advantage of.  I think its about half a days travel yet.  Lets see if we can make some silver and get a good nights rest while we're there."

The three wagon caravan keeps its slow pace down the dirt road.  The sun does indeed warm up the chill of the morning, giving way to a pleasant day.  The guard couple and young monk continue jesting all the while, and Mitoli's cheeks hurt from smiling so often.

Up ahead, the road takes a sharp turn around a thick patch of trees and underbrush.  Mitoli's chuckles stop as he studies the dark stretch of forest.  He grabs his spyglass and extends the metal cylinders.  Holding it up to his eye, he lets out a grunt as he gets a better look at the suspicious patch of trees.

"Ashes."  He states.  "Covered in ashes, with a big pile of them in the middle.  Now how and why would so much of it be thrown about like that?"

The caravan leader stows his spyglass away again hurriedly.  "Afanen, Ragnar, Jin, keep on your toes.  This might get interesting."

---

Dete na Plemeto has just finished breaking down his camp.  He prefers to follow game trails, rather than the large dirt roads cutting across the land.  He had found a nice spot on the side of a hill to rest and eat.  The rabbit he caught yesterday was finished, and his water skin was getting low.  It might be time to venture into the keep he saw a few days ago while he was hunting the area. 

This camping spot looks out over one of the dirt roads he tends to avoid.  Travelers are lazy, and the roads are usually the quickest way to find a town.  Dete plans on following it to the keep.

His long strides eat up the hillside as he makes his way down to the road.  The sound of wagons rolling their way towards him reaches his ears.  Not wanting to be caught off guard, Dete ducks behind a tree and watches as the wagons approach.

Three wagons slowly roll down the road, being pulled by large oxen.  Two guards are walking alongside.  Just a trader and his wagons, it seems.  Dete decides to bypass the road and cut cross country to the keep, but something catches his eye further down the road.

A piece of the forest juts out and causes the road to take a sharp turn around it.  The trees and bushes are much darker than they should be for this time of day.  Something is very unsettling about this patch of forest.  This would be something to steer clear of, but the caravan is heading right next to it seemingly unaware.  Dete looks at the patch of dark forest again.  One of the shadows moves.

Dete can now make out just why it is so dark.  The entire area is overrun with ashy creatures.  The realization hits that this caravan will be overrun by these things.  The two guards won't be able to fight all of them off.  The caravan is nearly upon the dark patch of forest.  Dete will need to act quickly if he is going to help them.

[Faidth]

At Jin’s “love birds” comment, Afanen’s cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson and her nostrils quite literally flare, expelling miniscule puffs of steam. Ragnar’s smile never fades, and he grins widely, neither confirming nor denying Jin’s words. Both Ragnar and Afanen gratefully accept the waterskins from Jin. Their own had run dry a day or so ago, and they were heartened by Mitoli’s announcement they were nearing a town. Ragnar hadn’t enjoyed a pint in weeks, and he was hoping a few hours at a tavern would allow Afanen to cut loose a bit. It was evident Oakvale was still on her mind, and Keep Yond would hopefully be a welcome distraction.

Ragnar and Afanen continue to banter with the young monk while the caravan continues down the road. As they progress further down the path, Afanen grows silent, the fine hair upon her arms rising, and a heavy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. Something was amiss, though what, she could not say. Eventually, the ever jovial Mitoli grows silent, and that is further cause for concern.

Ragnar’s eyes narrow. “I’ve spent my whole life in the forest, and I have never seen anything like this.”

Afanen quickly moves close to Mitoli at the front of the caravan, prepared to protect her friendly employer should the need arise. “Sir, halt the wagons. Whatever is up there, it would be a folly to draw any nearer without knowing what we may encounter.”

[Kitharsis]

Alec bows as Daccio agrees to accompany them in the hunt.  "I'm glad you've agreed to join us.  My platoon should be able to dispatch the beast, but stay alert.  We're still not sure exactly what we're up against."

Alec motions for everyone to continue the march.  He lets the rest of his platoon march on ahead and hangs back with Bjorn and Daccio.

"I've already discussed this with the soldiers, but you both need to know what we're after."

Emery gives a "Hmph," and plods over to the three of them.  "I'll tell you what, its probably a fool Caller that lost his wits."  He looks sideways at Bjorn.  "A traveler showed up bloodied and battered.  Alec took him in the keep and found that he had been attacked on his way into town.  Whatever was after him took out a whole caravan.  He was belligerent, couldn't get much more out of him.  After that, well."  Emery shakes his head. 

Alec pats the innkeep on the shoulder.  "I decided to put the man up in The Clover, Emery's inn.  Well, whatever attacked him on the road came back to finish the job.  It leaped over the wall, killed the traveler, and burnt down The Clover in barely a minute.  It howled like an entire pack of wolves, but we could only see one beast."

"Sure sounds like a Caller, doesn't it?"  Emery nearly growls.  "And this big fella here is one.  Wolf pelts, fire, the whole deal."

Alec stares Emery down, "We've already been through this.  Bjorn is on our side, Emery.  You can shut it or find you way back to town yourself."

Emery crosses his arms and looks away from the group.  "Fine," is all he replies.

Alec pats the innkeep on the shoulder again, "Okay then."  He gives a nod to Bjorn and Daccio before striding to the front of the line.  Emery sighs and follows after the Guard Captain.

The man in the red bandana gives a wave and walks over to Daccio and Bjorn.  "I'm new here too.  Just got to town before they shut the gates last night.  Sorry about the 'fool Caller' statement earlier, Bjorn.  You look like no fool I know.  The whole town is on edge from the attack, just wanted to try and diffuse the situation."  He offers a handshake to both of them in greeting.  "My name is Rand.  Where are you two from?"

[Shadow Chorus]

Bjorn accepts the handshake with a calm smile. "I understand. Tempers are high, and Óðinn smiles on he who can keep his cool. I am of the Drengr, the warriors of my people. Vikings, you call us. The 'barbarians of the north'. I hail from the northern reaches of þrekstað. The cold tundras are my home, and the wolves of the frozen wastes are my brothers in arms." He gently strokes the white wolf's pelt on his shoulders. "Though they must sadly also be my food and warmth in times of need. It is this beast that concerns me most. It holds grudges, kills a target and causes wanton destruction. It is not a beast of the wild. I know their kind. They kill for food, and every death is a sacrifice so that another may live. Not out of savagery or hatred, but mere survival."

Bjorn seems to gaze off into the distance, as if remembering some past event. "This...'creature' is different. It knows hatred, a creation of human kind. I'm not sure the claim that it is a mad caller is entirely inaccurate. Óðinn's gifts are hard to fathom and even I am not entirely the master of my abilities. That is why I offered a prayer for his guidance at the fort. To help me control myself in the inevitable conflict."

[Archdemon Stu]

Jin's senses are not nearly as keen as his traveling partners', but he trusts in their instincts.  The boy's usually festive demeanor becomes one of stoicism and vigilance as he jumps to his feet on top of the wagon.  From his vantage point, he scans the treeline in all directions, his grip firm on his bo.  After observing more closely, he can comfortably say his companions are correct in their assumption; something is not right.

He calmed himself, and began to breathe slowly, focusing only on the flow of air in his body.  This calm allowed him to enter a meditative state, and erase distractions from his mind other than the task at hand - sharpening his senses.  Jin repeated these words to himself, calmly... "I must not use the light.  To use it is to invite danger to others."

Again, and again he repeated it to himself until it became a rhythm in his head.

His body lowered, his legs limber, ready to move at a moment's notice...

[Daccio]

She listens as the beast is explained, Intelligent eyes peering our from under the hood, not missing a thing. She nodded ever so slightly to the explanation, and as rand approached she hesitated a moment, as if unsure, before taking Rand's hand lightly.  She shifted as her tattoed hand dissapeared under her cloak again. She yawned, jaw cracking, as if she had just woken up.

"You would not know where I am from. Some little remote fishing town, that is all" She said, shaking her head, before looking to Bjorn "You are a caller? One of the legends?" She asked, curious now, surprise flitting across her shadowed face.

(OOC)

[Radobe]

Though Dete shies away from too much contact with other people, he was raised well enough to not turn his back to those in dire need.

He leaves his position at the tree and approaches the strange creatures, under the cover of the forest. His leather boots are soft and don’t make any noise when he walks. Crouching near a bush in the vicinity of the creatures, he takes his bow and holds his breath. Dete looks at the sky and after a few seconds’ exhales.

(Apex Predator) The hunter’s eyes grow wider, as a surge of heat goes through his body. The smallest indication of a smile appears on his lips for an instance. This is a state he has been in before, many times before. Now he is ready to face this enemy.

Dete takes an arrow and nocks it. In one movement he pulls the string of the bow to its limits and comes out of his cover. The hunter releases the arrow into the mass of ash creatures, drops his bow and charges forward with his spear.  The only noise he makes during all this, is the noise of the arrow flying through the air and the bow dropping to the ground.

During his assault on the creatures, he will keep his distance and use the reach of his weapon and long limbs to his advantage.

[Kitharsis]

"Sir, halt the wagons. Whatever is up there, it would be a folly to draw any nearer without knowing what we may encounter."  Afanen's suggestion is a wise one.  Mitoli slowly nods, not taking his eyes off of the ominous patch of forest.

"I suppose you're right."  The caravan leader unwraps the leather leads for the oxen and holds them in his hands.  "Drat!  Who ever heard of stopping a good days roll for a pile of ash."  He hauls back on the leads and gives two clicks of his tongue.  The large animals shake their heads and slow their already sluggish pace to a stop.

The two other wagon drivers do the same.  One of them pulls out a crossbow and a dagger he had stashed under his seat.  Mitoli pulls out his own along with a quiver of arrows.  Not one to skirt away from danger, the caravan leader hops down to the ground.

"Well, lets go check this nonsense out."  He motions for Afanen and Ragnar to follow him.  "Jin, keep an eye on the wagons.  This could be some kind of setup."

Mitoli barely takes three paces away from the wagon when a man pops out of cover and fires an arrow at the darkness. 

"Whats he up to?" 

Dete's arrow flies true to its mark.  It hits in the direct center of the large mass of shadow.  He can see what looks like a large number of the creatures scatter as the arrow makes contact.  But instead of hitting something solid, the arrow sails through the mass of ashes and hits the ground behind.

As he circles around the patch of dark forest he can't find any trace of the shadowy creatures.  All that is there are ash covered trees and the large pile of it in the middle.  Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

Mitoli calls out from the wagons, "Ho there!  What's in those trees?  Can't say I've ever-"  The caravan leader gasps sharply as the pile of ash explodes.  Flaming streaks shoot out of the blazing pile in all directions.  As the streaks arc downward and hit the ground they take the shape of running wolves. 

The wolves seem to be made of living flame.  Their bodies roll and flicker as the flames catch the wind as they charge.  Their eyes are like two burning embers, and their paws leave patches of scorched earth with each footfall.

A pack of six flaming wolves charges towards Dete.  They surround the hunter and run circles around him.  One of them lunges, fangs poised to strike.

An even larger pack rushes by and focuses on the caravan.  Twenty flaming wolves streak down the road like living fireballs.  Mitoli curses and scrambles to get back onto his wagon.  The oxen are spooked, and are going to take off at any moment.  The pack splits, half on each side of the wagons.

Two of the flaming wolves lunge at Afanen on her side of the wagons.  On the other side, one of the larger flaming wolves squares off against Ragnar.  Jin is unaccosted at the top of the wagon, but it is clear that he won't be for long.

-----

Further down the road, the platoon of soldiers and the mysteriously well timed travelers are continuing their march.  Alec and Emery are having a heated exchange at the front of the line while Alec's second in command shakes her head behind them.

Bjron feels a tickle.  It's hard to explain, but his Fire soul is reacting to something.  He hasn't felt this before, and it is quite unsettling.  It fades as quickly as it came.

Seconds later, an explosion of fire and flame racks through the countryside.  You can see the heights of the flames streak high above the trees. 

"That must be our beast!  Move out!"  Alec shouts.  They are on the wrong side of the sharp turn in the road, and it will take some time to get to the site of the explosion.

"What the hell could have done something like that?"  Emery yells as the hunting party storms down the road.

No one replies.  The protectors of Keep Yond haven't ever encountered anything like this.  Alec's jaw is set in determination, but the rest of his platoon is stark white with fear.

"Alec, what did that?!"  Emery yells again, this time more frantic.

"Whatever it is, its going to be dead soon.  Keep your wits about you, and watch each others backs."

At the back of the line, Rand runs alongside Bjorn and Daccio.  He looks thoughtful.  "Those soldiers and their heavy armor need to stick to the road."  He talks low enough for only Bjorn and Daccio to hear.  "But we can cut through the woods and get there much faster.  Something set this off, probably another travelling wagon.  They'll need help."

The man peers off into the woods.  There is a game trail cutting through that should lead close to where the explosion came from.  He brings two fingers to his lips and blows a quick whistle.  Alec turns to see what it is about.

"We're taking a shortcut."  Rand yells, as he motions for the two of you to join him.  Alec nods and turns front again. 

The three of you take off into the woods.  You keep pace with Rand easily thanks to your animal souls.  The game trail winds through the patch of forest.  Trees fly by as you race through the woods.  You can see the edge of the forest on the other side, and the site of the explosion isn't far away at all.  Flashes of flames catch your eyes.

The flashes are from a pack of flaming wolves darting through the trees toward you.  Rand digs his heels into the forest floor as a large fiery wolf blocks his path.  Three wolves, with fur of flame and eyes of ember stand before you with haunches raised.  With a fierce growl they attack at once.

[Shadow Chorus]

Bjorn's eyes flash for a moment. These creatures. They aren't natural. They almost seem like some form of semi-caller. A creature of Fire and Wolf, but no soul of humanity. Only the burning rage of fire and the pack mentality of the wolf. But there was no time to contemplate that. Battle was stirring, and Bjorn felt a familiar sensation building in his chest.

"Get down..." Bjorn growls, his eyes glowing red as his teeth elongate into fangs. "GET DOWN!" he shouts, charging forward, threatening to barrel through Rand and Daccio if they did not move aside. There are no more words from this point. The flame of battle has taken him, and he has become its machine. His wordless cry of battle echoes in the forest as he swings wildly, blade and axe crossing, striking, hacking, never letting up the assault, unwilling to allow the wolves even a moment to strike back. An overhanded chop of his axe falls toward one wolf's head while he simultaneously kicks a heavy boot at another and sweeps up with his sword at the third, his weapons glowing hot in his hands as he attacks with wild abandon, all defense thrown to the wind as he settles on all-out assault. He doesn't just stop with his triple-attack, he continues to barrel at the central wolf, his boot planting on the ground only to be followed by his axe, sweeping in from its original strike to attack his main target. Following through that blow, he spins and brings his sword around in a wide arc at the beast, fangs bared in a canine growl as his burning red eyes seethe with the rage of fire. He or his opponent would fall before this battle was done. There was no other course of action left.

[Faidth]

   A great roar erupts from Ragnar’s lips, and for a moment, the typically affable and gentle young man seems more beast than human. His eyes grow wild and he stamps his foot upon the ground. The earth beneath his feet begins to tremble, and sheets of rock explode from the earth and clamp onto the entirety of his form, shielding his body in rock armor.

   A nearly identical roar, though higher in pitch, but equaled in ferocity, can be heard from Afanen in response to Ragnar’s call-to-arms. From afar, it almost appears as if her form appears to waver, much like heat rising off of exceedingly hot ground. How better to protect against fire than to become it? Her strangely colored eyes begin to glow even more brightly and within moments, her entire form is engulfed in billowing flames. She moves forward just enough to ensure the caravans will not be lit aflame.

She glances back at the caravan behind her and shouts for her companion. “Raggi!”

“Got him!” Clearly on the same wavelength as Afanen, he knows exactly what to do. His employer’s safety must be seen to immediately, and Ragnar, ever selfless, will do all he can to ensure his generous leader survives.

“Jin! Cover me!” Ragnar shouts to the monk atop the wagon.

 Ragnar quickly maneuvers himself away from the large, charging wolf. His speed is preternaturally quick, and he knows his rock armor will bear the brunt of any damage, should the creature manage to catch up to him. Let the beast take a shot at him; he has more important concerns on his mind. He reaches into the wagon, seizes Mitoli around the waist, and with incredible strength, launches his unsuspecting employer into the high branches of a nearby tree. At the mill, he had made a game of tossing logs like cabers. Now he relied upon his strength to get Mitoli to safety.

 Ragnar’s knowledge of the forest tells him the tree will easily sustain Mitoli’s weight, and should the wolves manage to catch the tree on fire, such a massive arboreal tower will take quite some time to burn away completely. If the oxen do becomes spooked, he cannot risk them running right into the enemies, and delivering Mitoli to these creatures. Even if the wagon becomes forfeit, Ragnar is committed that Mitoli’s life won’t be.

   Afanen clutches her warhammer in her hands, and with a steady gaze, eyes the two advancing wolves. Flames dance around her body and down the length of the weapon she wields. As the beasts draw nearer, she attempts to slam the hammer into the skull of the wolf on the right. With such great force propelling her weapon, should the blow connect, it will easily knock the beast into the path of its companion, greatly injuring both.

[Archdemon Stu]

An explosion rocked the caravan.  Jin had not heard such a sound before, and even his steady soul was shaken.  Now was not the time for panic, however.  The cattle grew restless, and at the moment, a good man's livelihood depended on them remaining calm.  Jin let loose a calm and relieved breath, as though a boy cut from his binding. Though one could not tell from a distance, the monk's eyes began to glow gold as he unbound his Inner Light, the soothing aura washing over those close enough in the caravan.

More strange occurrences.  The earth split and adorned Ragnar in a formidable armor of rock, and Afanen was clothed in red-hot flames.  He could hardly believe what he was seeing.  Jin had heard from Master Lao that there were others similar to himself.  Could it be that-

Suddenly, Ragnar called for assistance, and snapped the young monk out of his daze. 

"I'm on it!" Without a moment's hesitation, Jin sprinted across the wagon tops to Ragnar's former position.  He quickly identified his foe, and it was indeed a fierce one.  He had little idea as to how to defeat such a beast, so he treated it as he would any other flame, as a breath to candlelight.

With an agile leap off of a wagon, Jin raised his bo high above his head, gathering as much force as he could muster, and bringing his staff down upon the whole of the wolf's body in an attempt to disperse the flame entirely.  The very instant before contact, his body flashed with a Blinding Visage of the boy monk, hoping to distract the beast just long enough to daze it momentarily, and utilize what extra energy it may give him.  If all goes according to plan, the flash will be quick enough to draw little to no attention to Jin's gifts, the flames shall be scattered.