Berendar the Mighty, Crusher of Mortals, Eater of Souls, stirred.
His great golden eyes slowly opened, his nostrils inhaled a first,
shuddering breath. Cold, it was cold, his muscles stiff, but it was
warmer than before his slumber. Slowly, he got his limbs to move,
painful as it was.
Finally, after hours, he unfolded his great, leathery wings and
pushed his body up from the ground of the big cavern. Icicles broke from
the ceiling as his wings touched them.
Berendar looked
around the cavern that had been his lair and grave as the ice fell
outside. How long had he been asleep? He did not know.
Sunlight fell through the mouth of the cavern, as he crawled outside.
He looked around - the valley was still full of snow and ice, the small
brook still frozen solid. But there was spring in the air, the promise
of warmth and Berendar finally left the cave.
He took wing, perching on a rocky spire high above the valley and
looked south, where the city of mages stood - had stood. There were only
ruins now, frozen over and thawed again, the skeleton of a city. Like
an eagles, his eyes could see far, and he saw mortals fighting over
spoils in the ruins.
His slumber must have been even longer than he had believed for a
city like this to fall into such ruins. But then a new thought made its
way into his mind: If the mages were all dead, their treasures were ripe
for the taking!
With a triumphant roar, the
dragon took wing again, gliding on the winds southward towards thr
ruins, the mortals called Frostgrave.
***
Master
Borgenicht scratched his head. He had been brooding over the piece of
parchement for hours now and Nathaniel knew when to keep to his own
studies.
"That's it!" the old Chronomancer exclaimed with an exitement that belied his age.
"Assemble the crew, we leave for the northern district within the hour!"
***
In
the old days, when Felstad was still the center of an empire, this
district had been the heart of craftsmanship. Crafters and Enchanters
alike had lived and worked here. The Guildtower rose like a finger in
the middle of the district, amidst the ruins of workshops and
laboratories.
The roar of a snowtroll sent shivers down Nathaniels spine. "There are trolls abound, master!"
"Yes, yes, that's what Gnorrik and his men are here for. We are looking for an ornament gateway near the tower, boy."
Gnorrik
sniffed the air, his hyena-like snout held high. The gnoll towered over
the wizard, his yellow eyes under the black mane sparkling with
bloodlust.
"Gnorrik smell giant. Gnorric smell humans. Gnorrik hear voices."
Jakobus Borgenicht frowned. Giants were no easy foes.
"What humans, Gnorrik?"
"Master of Death, Master of puppets and bitch of light."
The Chronomancer cursed. Could he not pursue his leads without running into those people?
Antark,
the Cold, the Necromancer had snatched treasure from him before. But
the Thaumaturge and his captain held a deep grudge since their last
meeting - Gnorrik had almost killed her apprentice and she had blinded
and knocked him out afterwards. The Enchanter was a nuisance, nothing
more.
"Gnorrik, take some men and kill this
giant." Borgenicht concentrated and cast a spell on his captain to make
him faster. The gnoll was strong, but his heavy mail and shield slowed
him down. And of course the heavy halberd-head he used for a battle-axe
...
***
Master
Borgenicht had left Nathaniel in charge of most of the men, only taking
Thain, the new archer, as cover with him. He moved cautiously over the
plaza, where the magical fountain bubbled despite the freezing cold.
Across the plaza, at the side of the tower, he could see the form of the
gateway, a door leading nowhere - his goal.
He
ducked behind a statue, well aware of the sniper and archer an a ruin
nearby. The Enchanter had moved a chest from the top of the tower by
means of magical transport and now his men quarreled with the women of
the Thaumaturge over it. A barbarian with a sword as tall as herself
tried to get inside a ruin, defended by a knight in plate armour.
Taking
in his surroundings, he wrapped time itself around him. Time slowed
down around him, and he moved faster then everybody else. He got to the
gateway, his fingers touching runes, invoking their magic. The gateway
shimmered, forming a tall, vaguely humanoid form. And then it stepped
forward, a giant made of stone, bowing its head to its new master.
***
The
damned Enchanter did not want him to leave with his prize! He had tried
to get it under his spell, but so far, the Contruct had withstood his
weak magic. So, he had ordered his men to fire on the Construct, already
damaging it.
Jakobus fumed. He would not let this stand!
The
screams of panic from the north made him look over the plaza, locking
his gaze with Nathaniel, who pointed north, his face white with fear. He
followed his hand with his eyes - and froze.
A dragon was swooping down from the mountains, his wings blocking out the weak sunlight.
***
Nathaniel
used his magic to get some treasures away, leaping Yorick up to the
second story of the tower - only to have the chest snatched away by
Antark.
Greybeard
the dwarf had fallen under the club of the Frostgiant, Gnorrik and
Hrothgar were wounded, but an arrow from afar had finally taken the life
of the blue giant. The gnoll and the barbarian had raced to the magic
fountain, drinking deep from the holy water. It had healed their wounds,
as Master Borgenicht had said it would.
"Wilhelm! Take out the Necromancer!"
The
crossbowman nodded, took aim and shot. The bolt nailed Antark against
the wall, piercing his shoulder. The Necromancer screamed, cursed and
spit, but could not keep Yorick from taking the chest across the plank
over the street. Finally, his head sank to his breast, unconscious.
Yorick looked to the north and screamed. "A dragon! There!"
His
scream broke off, as an arrow hit him high in the chest, taking him off
the narrow bridge and to his death on the frozen cobbles below.
The
dragon flew over the ruins, searching. His golden eyes locked on
something, then swooped down. Magic crackled, as a thaumaturgic spell
formed, glancing off the dragons will like rain. But his focus shifted.
Nathaniel gestured to his master, seeking guidance, but Borgenicht seemed occupied.
"Gnorrik, Hrothgar, block this beast from getting to the Master if necessary. The rest, make haste - we're leaving."
The
gnoll and the barbarian obeyed and made haste to the other side of the
plaza, while the rest of their warband made ready to leave.
***
The
Construct dropped the chest it was carrying, then sank to its knees.
The magic left the body, leaving a humanoid puppet without strings.
Master
Borgenicht felt rage rising in his breast. He shaped the elements
around him, his mind creating matter. With eyes blazing with rage, he
pushed himself from the statue in his back, turning in one, swift
motion, his staff pointing towards the Enchanter, lurking behind a low
fir tree.
"Incendo!"
A
bolt of white fire shot from his staff towards his opponent, crashing
into his breast, lifting the Enchanter off his feet. He looked much like
a puppet himself, as he hit dirt, smoke trailing upwards.
"Never mess with Borgenicht, scum!"
He
gave Nathaniel a sign, and felt himself drawn into a leaping motion,
carrying him high over the ruins. He landed softly behind a thick wall,
safe from arrows.
"Good work, boy. Let's leave."
"What about the dragon?"
"What about it? Obviously, dragons aren't legends anymore. If it kills some of those fools, good for us."
The
roar of rage reverbrated through the ruins, as the dragon took wing.
Dark blood dropped from deep wounds on his belly. The great beast was
seriously wounded and turned to flight.
"Let's get away before those idiots turn on us."
