Caith sees the shadows of the hawks rise on the glittering snow and a fear more ancient than that of any human's mind runs like a startled rabbit through her, prey terror, the fear of the hunter that drives the hunted to flee.

But it is the Hunter she knows best that holds her steady, Alphal, the one man whose grasp she would never willingly evade, though it is odd to see a scarred and snarling wolfclad woman melt and cling like a kitten to their mother.

There is little embarrassment in her when she reluctantly lets go of Alphail, recovered of her senses, but more than a little shame in running from a sight she seen afore, and survived as she murmurs "Thank ye, love..." to him softly.

"Bloody birdies!" she growls in annoyance at her own failings "Nay as if I can fly after 'em to see where they're going, so there's nay point in running off now." and shakes her fist in the air in their last seen direction.

When the false twilight comes down at the precise moment, she finds herself strangely unmoved by it's dread, indeed, so great is her annoyance at it that she snarls "Not this nonsense again!", but too late, Alphail, Brannon, Colm, Deise and the all the others, excepting Doron have fled in all directions.

"Call them back to ye!" she demands of the stern face prince, urging him on "A voice that does nay speak can nay command anyone!"

In utter defiance of the dark, Caith calls the moon sister's power down to herself and throws forth a glimmering of moonlight about her, a pale beacon in the sudden shadows of malevolent magic.

Caith casts ARTIA'S LAMP, (1MP) and defies the dark rather than cursing it.

All she can do is wait, and hope, and pray that moonlight in the dark of day is enough. Slowly, the fled master their fears, and the stragglers return, and the sight of Osric and Leaf brings a smile to her face that has no malice in it for all the twisting of it.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:25, Thu 10 Sept 2020.

Doron turned to Caith, " My eye is fixed on my Uncle."

" Though my heart turned to water."

He nodded to her and turned to the others, " Return! There is no shame in being cowed by sorcery, it cares not for your spirit or honour but darkens your mind."

" Return and we will enter unto this place and cleanse it of the horrors that dwell here!"

At the sight of the hawks, Usopi had held firm against the unnatural fear their presence fueled within him. However, the preemptive twilight proved a more powerful force to resist, and the terror that surged within him was enough to send him into flight. As the dread began to pass he stumbled to a halt. He knew that such a sudden, striking fear must have come from some magical source but even so, his failure to stand against it sent a bolt of rage through his heart.

He was pulled from his fuming by the sound of Gat's timid whimpering. Usopi's expression softened as he gave the dog a comforting pat on the head, then turned back to rejoin the rest of the group. He eyed the city warily, wondering if they would be struck by the same effect a second time.

He nodded to the others in silent determination and gripped his mace tightly.

"The Prince is correct." exclaims Leaf earnestly, "I was thinking things that I know I do not believe! I trust every one of us here. We must turn our ill-placed shame into motivation."

She turns to Doron, "I told you I would help you find your Uncle; We shall." She looks over towards Brannon, "The Hearth Fire as well."

Seeing the Hawks of Nem, Brannon feels the old stirring of the panic and doubt he felt upon realising the Hearthflame was gone. He murmers prayers to Brigantia. She has cast aside two demons for them, if he had harboured any doubts then they had long since been dispelled.

The twilight gives the lie to this renewed confidence - Brannon's legs are moving almost before he knows what he is doing, scrabbling in panic to be anywhere but before that awful city and growing nearer. It is the Prince's voice that calls him to himself, he hesitates, losing his stride and tumbling to the ground. He sits for a moment, staring, then shakes his head. "Hearthmother forgive me." He murmers. "You cast aside two Demons for us, and still I ran."

He dusts himself off, and returns to the group. "You are right, Leofwyn." He replies to Leaf. "This place is full of many tricks and traps. It knows it can sap our minds as readily as our bodies. There is no sense in us doing its job for us by blaming ourselves." He claps Osric on the shoulder. "I know that even if we run again, we will rally again."

In reply to GM (msg # 955):

The hawks again. That noise, will it ever stop. We bested ye bastards before, an we'll do it agin. No time for fear.

Then preternatural twilight engulfs. Claustraphobic. The knights and giant men flee, the chief is fleeing, Leaf runs.
Do you see them desert you little man. Warriors the like of which this land has never seen. Powerful sorcerers. The run because they know. Your stain, your cowardice. They know you will betray them, they see your weakness.
At the time of greatest need you will fail like you always have. Nothing more to give small man, time to run. You'll no get back home. That name you long for is gone, erased. For you are outcast, you are the deise. Run.

Deise kneels on an icy outcrop in the foothills overlooking the lake. A trickle of vomit and bile on his stubble. Time to go back. Time to end this fear.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:00, Thu 10 Sept 2020.

'It was magic!'

Sir Turren denounces the entire event.

'Was magic I say, and nothing more! Not very sporting! Apparently I'm back in charge of my legs.'

Despite his quips, he looks ghost-white, and his voice shakes at first.

Somewhere in the twilight, a man runs, but not far enough to find peace. There is no peace to be found in this desolate place, only more fear, and doubt, and loneliness.

"Even wolves fear loneliness." echoes through his mind, a gift given in secret in whispers, from the dark of a time past, a warm and what passes for safe haven in a troubled land.

Alphail stops running, footsteps slowing to a cautious walk, heedful of possible ice under his feet, and stares back towards the vast edifice gloomily.

The Hunter notices a pale and tiny glimmering visible low down in the landscape in front of the glowering grey pile and grumbles "Darkness by day, now moonlight?!" to himself even as he smiles to see it.

Somewhere on the way, he finds Deise, grins to see him still alive and quietly says "She'll send wolves and bears looking for us if we don't get a move on. Come on, we better find the rest, and quick like."
This message was last updated by the GM at 10:20, Thu 10 Sept 2020.

In reply to Aphail MacRoach (msg # 965):

Deise wipes spit and bile from his chin and splashes water in his face. A quick swig of cider follows to wash away the taste. Handing the flask to Aphail, "Thanks Apahail, I've never been as scared man, never. You're right lets get the others. Need to stay together, this place is already trying to drive us apart."

In reply to Deise (msg # 966):

Giles walking back to the group speaks “Drajan was a powerful warlord confident in his prowess though this desolate place left him a broken man and claimed his life. We must not give into despair when we have come so far and are so near to our goal. Clear your minds of any distractions- let us focus on finishing what we came here to do and it will be so”
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:46, Thu 10 Sept 2020.

“Brother Giles is right. We should make plans to assault this city and temple. We know now we are observed. They know we’re coming. How can we turn that to our advantage? What magic tricks do we have at our disposal to fool our enemies into thinking we go one way rather than another?”

Turren crouches with those planning the advance.

'Whatever tactics we use, take heart; I think all our faiths are with us here. We are in their hands.'

He shaves as he considers the temple with a veteran's eye.

'My counsel is to march forward, warriors up front, archers on flanks, casters and sages back centre behind our front line. Up to the weakest entry, and in we go. Nothing fancy. We can always improvise and adapt as needed.'

He washes his jaw line.

'Must look my best for paradise,' Turren smirks, putting away his shaving kit.

In reply to Sir Turren Uvedale (msg # 969):

"You're too good lookin' to meet your maker, Turren. A plan would be a fine thing. I guess we should expect 'dem infernal hawks didn't send themselves to Glissom. So, there's likely to be an organised group behind all this. Maybe more dark knights?

If Giles is right on 'dis Drajan fell and his 300 strong legion, then the evil in there is ancient and terrible power. Wonder why they never left this place though?
This message was last edited by the player at 12:20, Fri 11 Sept 2020.

Turren grins, waves Deise's quip aside.



'Perhaps they can do as they like after King Wass-is-name is used to their ends,' Turren shrugs, rubs his jaw line.

'King err, well, the king. Their plan is to do something with him, maybe even right now. Disruption of this is likely key. If further planning is needed I suggest it happen fast, maybe even on the move. Perhaps the mighty 300 spent too much time freezing their bronze seats off, making plans till they perished from exposure. A good march onward may have been just the thing to warm them up and keep their hearts thumping.'
This message was last edited by the player at 00:03, Sat 12 Sept 2020.

Those with the keenest eyes note that though they will be able to get within a few hundred metres of the temple under cover of ice, ruined walls and other fragments the last approach up the stepped ziggurat to the row of columns surrounding the massive dark stone walls within will be in the open...

"Better that than a heart of stone." Caith retorts, still wild in anger, but offers the fierce promise of "We will find yer Uncle Durindar, and bring him back, along with the flame, but ye must speak in his stead now, Doron, and I will call out through the dark to the fleeing in my own way. Fair enough?"



"And we nay brought a bucket and mop to do the spring cleaning with either." Caith growls in agreement.

The now softly glimmering hedgewitch nods to Osric, and offers no scolding to him for a wrong she is guilty of herself scant moments before his nasty fright, but turns to Leaf as she asks "Ye alright? Nay harm done? Have ye seen Colm?" the last in a tone of barely concealed worry.

"This place has nay love for those it reckons to be it's beloved's rivals." she explains as gently as she can to the young woman from afar who works stone, searing flame and sea to her will "And ye and he are at a greater risk than the rest of us to it's hate."

Her concerned gaze flits back to the twilight, urgently searching the gloom for the others, yet Caith's feet remain firmly planted where she stands, holding to the hope that a beacon in the unnatural dark and a voice that speaks in true authority will do what one who can only advise, not command, cannot accomplish alone.

She smiles to each returning comrade, but having done her diplomatic duty for the moment, she is silently watchful for the most part.

Caith offers the suggestion of "Could make them reckon us gone back, fled for real maybe, but I nay ken if these odd fish would rise to my arcane bait, and we'd need to hid for a while for the trick to have any chance of working either way."

"If they ken we're here, and they're probably nay the kind to declare a duel in the open where ye can get on with the job swiftly, then it's a matter of finding them. Big place to search. Let them come to us and we'll ken better where to look for what the birdies stole, but we nay have much time to waste in drawing them out."

She shrugs, and concludes "So we go swiftly, stealthy if we can, and get Hearthflame and old King Durindar out that great pile of rock, and back where they belong. Last bit to the temple has nay cover."

Caith frowns then poses one question before preparing to make her way to the target, a simple choice of "So, do we dash up that ramp at full charge, or creep along quiet like and climb up the side?"
This message was last edited by the player at 07:29, Sat 12 Sept 2020.

“Could we both assault the front and send a surprise party in the side with a hope of merging our forces afore entering this fell place?”

OOC Osric scans the scene carefully clutching Ghost Eye tightly. An idea forming as to what power the sword may hold after his vision in the whirlwind
This message was last edited by the player at 09:26, Sat 12 Sept 2020.

In reply to Osric Grim (msg # 974):

"Maybe. Nay like splitting up, but I admit, it be easier to make a small group of runaways by sorcery than a large one." Caith mutters pensively in return "And many of us are nay what could fairly be called stealthy, so there is merit in your plan."

She offers a plan within a plan as she offers "I'd suggest we go thataway..." as she gestures left towards the smaller dry ruins "...And get a bit of cover and closer for now. Got a feeling there's an argument brewing, and I'd rather nay have it out here where we're sitting ducks freezing our tailfeathers off, aye?"

"Not trying drive us apart, I reckon, just to drive anyone who isn't them away. Any more of their windy doorkeepers are what I'm more concerned about at the moment." Alphail says then "Thanks." as he takes the cider, and a long swig of it.

He looks around in the murky not-really-twilight and hands the flask back to Deise as he asks in a casual tone "Seen the bossman about, or the Hearthwarden?" then with a more rueful expression "Lost track of them when I lost track of my courage a little while ago."

Colm strode back to the others his face a mask of rage, " Lets get in there and kill someone....I really didn't appreciate that."

Uthen was quiet as he returned and stared at the dark edifice, he had run again....but so had everyone else....

He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse but he clasped Turren on the shoulder and smiled grimly.

Usopi pondered the question of how they ought to approach the city.

”The ghostly legionnaire claimed to have simply run to the doors. Perhaps a frontal assault would be the most effective choice. Though if we are struck by such fear again while doing so it may leave those of us who fail to resist it vulnerable to attack by the hawks. Alternatively we could establish ourselves just inside the nearest cover, then those of us who fight on the front lines might expose ourselves to draw down the hawks, at which point those of us who use sorcery and arrows ambush them as they arrive. We seemed capable of defeating them when they attacked Gliss, though I admit I was chasing them through the tower so perhaps they were more dangerous to armed combatants than the aftermath made it appear.” he mused after a few moments thought, ”Though Caith is right that if we are to have a more in depth discussion we ought to reach cover first. Shall we head the direction she has suggested?”

Leofwyn peaks out from behind cover, and tries to see if there is any movement or evidence of danger in the temple.


OOC: Just wondering if we can see anything... dead bodies, guards, or sentries? Other than the hawks, or course. Even if there's fire or shadows..

Watching quietly as the scattered band returns one by one, the Prince strokes his mustache thoughtfully as he considers the next step.


Doron edges close to the lithe woman as quietly as he can manage with his clanking armor and arsenal of weapons. Crouching beside her, he squints his eyes and peers out into the darkness.

"Leofwyn, what do your eyes see?"

OOC: Doron too looks out into the darkness trying to see what is out there.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:51, Sun 13 Sept 2020.

In reply to Prince Doron (msg # 981):

The companions moved up and surveyed the temple carefully, the 'hawks' still circled above but none came close to them as they moved stealthily towards the stepped edifice.

Aphail and Deise slipped forward slightly ahead of the others and risked the open ground momentarily before pressing themselves against the temple columns.

Looking within to the forboding black stone walls they could now see an entrance a small single slit that ran all the way to the top of the wall.  Growing on the wall, impossibly in these arctic conditions was a strange fleshy mauve creeper which seemed to flex slightly every now and then.

Scanning the area there where no signs of guards or sentrys bar the whirling creatures above...they waved the others over.

Something had been bothering them both about the scene when Aphail suddenly realised....no snow or ice lay upon the temple, beyond the edifice the entire landscape was white but nothing of it touched the black stone.