Snowflakes tumble from a dark sky. The snow is the first one of the season, and the flakes are big and fat, clinging to your clothes and hair, and accumulating in mushy piles on the forest floor. You stand on the edge of a rocky ridge, having just overlooked the Morden Vale, and three riders approach below you...three Vorghol on white horses, bound for the valley behind you to your east, on a mission of urgency.
At Kane's gesture, Thragga bounds down the ridge and secretes himself behind a fallen tree as the Vorghol riders approach. He is just a few feet from their path. Kane and Khom-Bei lurk on the ridge. Perhaps it is the snow, perhaps it is their mission, but the keen senses of the Vorghol show no sign of detecting you. One of the Vorghol is the officer you overheard with the sentries earlier. As he rushes forward, you recognize him from the parley some two days before. He was in the Beast's retinue and stood beside him as the Baron parleyed with Castellan Rhyan.
Kane prepares himself for a charge down on the approaching Vorghol.
The lead rider, the officer, whips his horse savagely for more speed. You hear him curse the animal.
When the riders get within range Kane charges down on them Light Bringer in hand.
As they pass Thragga's position, the Urag steps out and plants his axe in the lead horse's chest. The sound is horrid. The horse gives a terrible shriek of pain and fear as red blood gouts out, over Thragga's face and chest. The horse stumbles, topples, and seems to fall in slow motion, dead on impact, with a massive impact, sliding in the snow to a halt at the base of the ridge. The rider, with the nimbleness of a pure Vorghol, leaps clear of the wreckage, coming to his feet, sword in hand.
As Kane charges the riders, Khom-bei stands and calls out in a clear voice, "The Great Father will not tolerate your foul presence!"
The lead rider spins as Kane charges him, drawing his sword lightning-quick, hurrying to get his blade up with all his cursed speed.
Kane rides down on the surprised rider and aims a strike at his body.
Holy flame shines from Khom-Bei's upraised hands. The two riders on each side of the leader throw up their hands to ward off the flames, which catch fire, causing the Vorghol to shriek and fall back. The fires crackle, burn and consume them, spitting and sparking in the falling snow. Their horses rear back in terror as the flaming Vorghol slide off, then each explodes in a foul cloud of dust and smoke as they are devoured and destroyed.
Light Bringer slices into the rider's ribs. The Vorghol doesn't cry out. He's a youngish-looking predator, one of the up and comers in the Beast's court, and he's made of stern stuff. He aims a horizontal counterblow at Kane as Kane gallops past. The Vorghol's blade opens a gash in Kane's thigh, just missing his femoral artery.
The Vorghol grins as he scores a hit on Kane, baring his fangs at the scent of blood. Then he spins on Thragga and sinks his longsword into Thragga's shoulder.
Thragga whirls his axe and drives the pointed head of his axe deep into the Vorghol's stomach.
Kane whirls his horse around and makes another charge at the Vorghol.
The Vorghol is grinning now. "You fight Zhalin, you scum!" The name is one of a minor noble of the Beast's court.
Kane barks back, "Good to know Zhalin, we'll put it on your grave!"
Light Bringer arcs into Zhalin's shoulder. The Vorghol falls back.
Khom-Bei steps closer to the fray, "Great Father, give your blessing to these warriors."
As Kane charges past, Zhalin tries seizes his traces and swing up on the back of Kane's mount, baring his fangs and trying to sink them into Kane's neck. Kane hip-checks the Vorghol into a pile of wet snow. He lands, loudly, face first, five yards from Thragga.
Thragga hustles forward, axe swinging at Zhalin.
Zhalin rolls out of the way of the axe blow, longsword in his hand. He scrambles to his feet, and hurls back his cloak, sword held en guard.
Kane leans from his saddle and strikes at the prone Vorghol. Zhalin parries Light Bringer, stepping back nimbly.
Khom-Bei takes a step forward and swings his warhammer at the Vorghol. Zhalin dodges the Northerling's onslaught, then ripostes a blow at him. Khom-Bei ducks under a vicious swipe.
Thragga is furious now. He charges up to the Vorghol but, in his fury, sends his blow far wide of the mark.
Zhalin laughs as Thragga's blow lands in the ground, splashing wet snow and mud everywhere. "I will so enjoy drinking your blood, you vermin. Who are you, anyway? You're more than just hill bandits. Are you with that Ress rabble that is on its way?"
Kane says, "You're a slippery one, Vorghol, I'll give you that...but everyone's luck runs out some time." He again charges the Vorghol striking at him with Light Bringer.
But Zhalin's an excellent swordsman, and he parries Light Bringer easily. The Vorghol is enjoying this. He thought himself doomed a moment ago, and now his predator instincts are kicking in.
Thragga spits. "Quit dancing around, you little bastard!"
Khom-Bei swings wildly at the evasive Vorghol.
Zhalin whirls out of the path of Khom-Bei's blow, then looks up the path where the other two Tol Nedran horses have fled. Too far for him to reach. He must continue his mission, but...there are prey here. His tongue licks Kane's blood from his sword, then he aims a backhand at Thragga.
Thragga blocks the blow with his axe handle . He tries to strike his own blow, but as he steps forward he stumbles in a mud puddle, splashing sleet and mud all about. His axe goes spinning off into the wet snow.
Zhalin roars with laughter while Thragga topples.
Kane's anger flares, feeling the Vorghol's mockery. He charges the Vorghol swinging Light Bringer. The flaming sword plunges into Zhalin's back in mid-laugh, and emerges from his front. His eyes go wide as the dragonfire consumes him, he tries to cry out but can find no voice...and he explodes in a cloud of dust. Tiny particles shower down on all of you.
Kane says, "Either he was a real tough one, or we're losing our edge. We better get moving now."
Thragga climbs to his feet, wiping cold mud from his eyes. "He was mine!"
The snow turns to sleet, chill and damp, soaking you.
Kane says, "Feel free to take what is left of him brother, I'm done with him." He begins to wipe the thin layer of Vorghol dust, now slick with sleet, off himself.
The Urag regards the fleeing horses and the dead one nearby with some hunger, but decides Kane is right. He retrieves his axe, wiping it clean with the edge of his cloak, and makes ready to leave.
Khom-Bei trots down the path to gather the frightened mounts of the Vorghol spawn, making soothing noises as he goes. The white Vorghol horses, are of the stock of the ancient Palladian mounts. They linger nearby, skittishly, bearing the marks of their cruel Vorghol masters.
As Khom-Bei approaches, one turns and flees, the other hesitates to run. Gathering up the reins of the Vorghol horse, Khom-bei escorts it back to the scene of the fight, "Try to hide the evidence that we were here. In case a patrol comes by."
Thragga counts. Kane's Angharan charger, Cakilgan the steppe pony, the sentries' sorrel nag, and now a Vorghol officer's white horse. Truly a feast! He stoops to slice a bit of skin from the horse he slew, with the quick grace of a practiced hunter. "These were probably on their way to warn the Beast..." he mutters.
Kane dismounts and does what he can to hide the fight scene.
Khom-Bei tosses the Vorghol officer's sword into the underbrush and looks down at the dead horse with a frown, "What should we do with this?"
Thragga tucks awayhis small morsel for later. He turns away. "Leave it for the crows. They need to eat, too."
Kane says, "I don't think even Thragga can wolf down that much meat so quickly."
Kane looks around for a place they can drag the horse out of sight.
Grabbing hold of the saddle, Khom-bei begins to heave and pull the horse toward the high grasses and brush alongside the pathway. Kane and Thragga help him drag the carcass of the horse behind some trees. Kane then shakes some snow from some over hanging trees down on to the trail to cover the blood.
The falling snow quickly covers the scene, leaving no trace.
Kane remounts and says, "Let's get the hell out of here."
When Khom-Bei has climbed back on his pony's back he starts to move.
You travel far in the night. This is the Hunter's Hour, deep in western Tol Nedra, a wild outlaw country. You make good time through the woodlands, in spite of the weather, but after hours of riding through the forest of Galad in the sleet, you are drenched by the time you spot the dead village to the south that is the designated rendezvous point. You see the ruined outbuildings and a small, weathered bridge over a dry creekbed that leads into the village. In the days before the Vorghol, this village may have thrived, but it people have long since gone. No one can even recall its name. Even from here, you can see Ress riders bustling back and forth, many of them. Hundreds. Sleet continues to fall.
There's a challenge from someone, in a Ress accent. Warriors, shadowed in the night, step forward, bows and axes ready. "Halt i'th'name o'the King! Speak y'r name, and stand where we can see ye!"
Kane halts his horse and says, "It's Kane, Thragga, and Khom-Bei. We bear important news."
The warrior steps forward, torch in hand. He's a young man, Farbold, who stood beside you on the wall, against the colossus at Castle Eryth. "Aye, so 'tis, sirs, and by th'Warrior, blessed glad t'see you." He smiles and claps Kane's shoulder.
Kane replies "Good to be seen."
Farbold nods. "Th'King left orders, y'were t'be brought t'him at once. They're hungry for tidings fr'the outlands." He gestures. An escort of riders swings into formation at once, respectful and eager to help you. They keep a safe distance from the greenskin who walks with you, however.
Kane gladly follows the escort into the town.
The village is camp to several hundred Ress warriors, knights and militia, who shelter in some of the ruined outbuildings. Perhaps six hundreds in total. Some from Castle Eryth, and some from Castle Morin, the fortress nearby Eryth. Camp fires burn fitfully here and there. Soldiers eyes regard you as you ride down the old village street with your Vorghol horse as a trophy behind. And shouting, up ahead, angry Reith voices shouting at angry Urag ones.
Thragga looks to Kane and Khom-Bei.
Khom-Bei mutters under his breath, "Well, it's good to see that they're all getting along so well in our absence."
Kane says, "They haven't killed each other yet."
The escort riders, including Farbold, form a protective circle about you. "Mayhap y'might remain here, sirs, til th'way is clear?" he suggests.
Kane says, "Clear of what?"
Farbold gestures. "Whatever is up ahead." As a Ress, he doesn't trust the sound of Urag shouting, Steel rings on steel from the old village square.
Khom-Bei smiles, "On the contrary, I think it is just where we are needed most. Send these two horses to your quartermaster. They won't be fit for cavalry duty, but see if he can make use of them."
Thragga nods at Khom-Bei and pushes past the escorts.
Kane miles and says, "Don't worry about us, we've had worse welcomes."
Khom-Bei kicks his pony into a gallop and threads his way through their escorts toward the sound of the fight.
Farbold nods, uncertainly. His orders came from the King himself. But he allows you past.
The Ress soldiers take the prize horses into custody as you slip past the escorts.
The village square is ablaze with torches. On one side stand the Oathkeepers, tall blond knights of Ress, and their militiamen, and on the other, a hundred or so Yaragai, outlaw Urag of Tol Nedra, and their Northerling allies. It appears blows have already been exchanged, but the two sides are in an unsteady peace for now. Ser Garvin stands in the middle of the square, arguing with Yarga, and the two are about to come to blows.
Sliding to a stop near the combatants, Khom-bei drops from his mount, "Well, it looks like we're going to have to find you two some real opponents to fight before you kill each other."
Garvin turns to Khom-Bei. "Welcome back, laddie."
Kane rides up on his horse and says, "Looks like we returned just in time. This will have to wait, we have important news.
Yarga snaps, "Blood must be repaid with blood! He-Who-Watches demands it!"
The Yaragai roar in agreement, banging swords on shields. The Ress bristle, hefting pikes and sword, ready for action against the savage greenskins.
Khom-Bei says, "If you both will just shut up long enough to hear the news we bring, there will be blood enough to go around.""
Jenn-Dai and her Northerling warriors stand nearby, unable to control the Urag. But she speaks, her voice ringing loud and true: "Silence! Kane will be heard!"
Khom-Bei steps back and gives Kane his attention.
Kane says, "We should discuss this in council, Jenn-Dai. That is if we can get out friend Yarga to attend."
Yarga says, "No! The alliance is ended! One of his--" he jerks a finger at Garvin--"slew one of Yarga's! and for this, justice must be done!"
Khom-Bei turns to Garvin, his face grim, "Is this true, my friend?"
Garvin protests, "Y'r man drew his blade first! If he could speak the King's Marreith like a decent fellow, and could listen t'warnings, he would nae be dead now!"
Khom-Bei says, "What happened, Garvin? The whole story, please.""
Garvin explains, "There was a quarrel, who can say f'r what. These greenskins argue and quarrel easily. This fight was over a skin of wine. The Urag drew on our man. He was told t'sheathe his steel, and not fight, but he came on anyway. Me lad was defending himself." He points to another man, nearby, Ser Kelric, who also stood beside you on the wall at Castle Eryth,
Ser Kelric, an aged veteran, mops sleet from his bald brow and looks abashed.
Yarga says, "His life is now forfeit! None treat Yarga's warriors in such a way!"
Garvin snaps. "Touch him and you'll all die, Yarga! And I'll personally save y'for dyin' last!"
Khom-Bei steps forward, "Yarga, if two of your own men had fought over a skin of wine and one was killed, there would be no talk of paybacks. The stronger man won. This is the way of life. Let it pass."
Yarga snarls at Khom-Bei, "You take the side of the Ress, Northerling?"
Kane looks at Yarga and says, "Was it a fair fight Yarga? Did your warrior not have a chance to defend himself? Or was your man slain in fair combat?"
Yarga growls, "Yes, yes, he had a chance to defend himself. But blood demands blood. And there is no lasting peace between the Reith and the Urag."
Jenn-Dai snarls back, "Heed the words of Khom-Bei, foolish Urag!"
Khom-Bei throws down his warhammer in anger."I take no side except that of the living! There's an army of undead filth less than an hour's ride from here. Do you forget that they hunt your kind as well as mine?"
Kane says, "It was a fair fight then. Let it go. He died a warrior in a fight of his own choosing, there it should end."
Khom-Bei shakes his head, "Do you find yourself lacking in true enemies, Yarga? Such that you actively seek new ones? Is there not fighting enough for you against our mutual enemy?
Jenn-Dai nods. "Listen to their words, Yarga. These warriors know the same struggle you do."
Garvin folds his arms, disgusted by the whole affair.
Finally, Yarga shakes his head. "Very well. I will listen to your news. Let us have council!"
Kane says, "Either it ends here or you'll have plenty of time to argue it out in the Vorghol thrall pits. This I promise you."
Khom-Bei turns to Garvin, "And might I suggest separate tables for our friends to eat at? It might save us all some bloodshed."
Garvin smirks, his old humor returning. "Aye, laddie. Well spoken."
Thragga asks Khom-Bei, "We're eating now?"
Kane turns to Garvin and says, "I need dry clothes and hot food, which way?"