The group slips away from Vordegern’s warehouse under the bright mid-morning sun, its rays casting long shadows as they weave through the alleyways. Alexis casts a quick glance over his shoulder, then leans in to Rask.
“You looked… surprised when you saw that Cedric Ironjaw character.” His voice carries a hint of curiosity, as though he’s fishing for a story.
Throughout the ride to Sutheron, Rask takes an on-watch posture while travelling, often at the back of the group, on guard crossbow loaded and eyes on his horse’s ears and the surroundings. If asked, he takes point. Either way he pulls his plain brown cloak in close over his plain brown tunic and does his best to appear inconspicous.
In camp, Rask takes on the standard camp tasks as much as Gustav will let him help. He is actually useful while hunting, a knows a handful of edible wild plants, much to Gus’s suprise and consternated delight.
Rask takes last watch when given the choice, and always wakes early. He does a series of excercises every morning; push-ups, sit-ups, burpees, pull ups if there is a decent branch available, and such. He tends to the horses, checks their feet and brushes them out every evening and morning, when he can.
At lunchtime when travelling, if no one else is around, Rask does a series of swordsmanship exercises. First excruciatingly slowly, then at a normal speed, and then as quickly as he possibly can. He uses an older Aegierian army-issue long sword for his exercises. It is well cared for, he cleans and sharpens it after each session.
Before bed each evening, after checking on the horses one last time, Rask does a series of stretches, slowly with clear deliberate breaths moving in and out of each position. Rask bathes regularly, and cleans himself and all his gear daily, but sleeps in his chain shirt as long the group is “on the march.”
Before settling in for the night, shortly after meeting the Crimson Calling, Rask finds Ethelred separately from the others and catches his attention.
“I can see it in your eyes Ethelred. Your first time?”
Rask looks into Ethelered’s eyes.
“Recently.” Rask nods,
“If you want to talk about with someone who’s been there, let me know. You’ll never forget, but it does get… easier.”
Rask’s thousand yard stare is sad and determined, but welcoming and hopeful too.
Rask scanned: the horses’ and mule’s ears, the trees, the trails. After a few minutes, his eyes settled into a pattern and he started to think again.
His eyes slowed a bit as they swept across Gustav and the sword Alexis called “Dauntless,” Torr Bjorn’s sword, a gift from Ishtar, made of start metal, and re-forged by Torr himself. The sword had rejected Rask, chosen Gustav, but Gustav spurned the sword, wished to be rid of it. Gustav Raidensbless’d seemed disgusted and disturbed by the relic. They both needed protection from the Dark Hand.
Alexis Laelius, Ethelred, they were planners, engineers. What was the plan here? Were they really going to take the sword to Mage Eye and Ursill? Even if that is his plan, doing it while being hunted by the Dark Hand and their orcs?
It must be an elaborate ruse. We learned a bit more about the enemy. We could double back soon, push the logs over the trap door, and take on Shyeeni and her orcs. We killed three quickly, we could take out the slaver and her minions before going into the caves to rescue the refugees from the other slavers below… Yes that must be the plan.
Rask scans: the horses’ and mule’s ears, the trees, the trails…
A bit later, Rask clears his throat “A-huH-lex-IS.”
He looks at the Sutheroni sharply and jerks his head back towards the cave and enemy.
He whispers, “How much time are we going to give them?”
Rask scans: the horses’ and mule’s ears, the trees, the trails…
It had taken over a month to reach Thater. Careful talk, careful movement. Rask wasn’t sure what to do after The Incident, and after a few days of aimless wandering, Thater seemed like the right place to go.
Thater was gone. Rask had barely been able to cobble together a lean to with his tarp and the poles he was able to salvage from the old stable. Practice kept him warm more than the fire. Rask tried to remember what had happened to Yon and Brude, Sten and Myrsky. There had been goblins and orcs with deep red scars on their faces. Three red stripes. Then so many goblins. Thater survived that onslaught, but not this one.
Two nights ago, or was it three? No, it had been a week or maybe fortnight since the road wardens had told Rask that Thater had been overrun, destroyed roughly a year ago, a full turn of the seasons and then some. Rask vaguely recalled the rumors, savage creatures from the Horde. According to the road wardens, there were some refugees from Thater at the Copper Hills Fort, others had been with the army closer to Middlebar, and some of the survivors had been taken by slavers, the Dark Hand.
Rask had wandered through the ruins of Thater, of his childhood home. Joining the Raidensblud, Aedelfrid’s Army, Aegir’s Army, Raiden’s Army, had seemed like the right thing to do after the goblin attack. The best way to protect Thater, his mother, Papa Fellmar, and the other from the savage beasts of the Horde. Myrsky had his… forest connections, and Rask had his connections in the army. It may have technically have been re-joining, but the commitment was more… real. More solid. It wasn’t about his father, it was about his family. His homeland. Thater had been attacked, and there would be payment in kind for the transgression.
Rask practiced his forms in the old militia gathering space. In the yard where he and Sten used to practice together. Ursill, the First Eye, had given Rask the Blade of the Betrayers, an honor and priceless gift from the Greatest Warrior of Aegir, and leader of Aedelfrid’s most powerful army. Rask had become one of Aegir’s finest weapons. One hundred enemies of Aegir had fallen to his blade. How many hundreds more had fallen since? Thousands?
When Ursill bestowed the ancient elven blade upon on Rask, the First Eye had Intoned that Rask, the soldier, the death commando, could wield the terrible relic against the enemies of humankind who had forged it. Enemies fell to the blade, that was certain, hundreds more, perhaps even thousands. But no elves.
The Fire set Rask free. It had been easy to take orders, easier than thinking about who’s brother, who’s son, who’s lover was on the other end of his sword, dying. It had been easy to to enjoy the challenge of the fight, the thrill of winning. Accepting the accolades was easier than thinking about the humanity of his victims.
Rask couldn’t really remember what happened. He didn’t want to. There had been flames, but nothing actually burned. There was fighting. He had taken a blow to the head, and some minor cuts. In the end, the officers, his handlers, in their small encampment were all dead and Rask was done fighting for Aedelfrid. Done killing because someone ordered him to. Everything had changed, it was not longer easy not to think about It.
It had taken over a month to reach Thater. Careful talk, careful movement. Rask wasn’t sure what to do after The Incident, and after a few days of aimless wandering, Thater seemed like the right place to go. Thater was gone. Its people taken by the Dark Hand.