One Bound and Broken
Seventeenth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC
Barrow of the Lost Clans, The Frostfells, Westeros
Thoros shivered in the unnatural chill of the tomb. It seemed to sink into his bones no matter what warding songs Velen lay upon them, heavy with old sorrows.
Truly a place accursed by the Lord of Light. He would be glad to be back under the sky and to praise R'hllor for the sun. The wailing of the spirit echoed around him again, by now it had become almost familiar.
You could get used to screams given enough time... The priest shivered. Unlike many, he could hardly remember the slave market, just the vague memory of hunger, thirst, and fear. There had been screams then, too.
"Think they're going to let more corpses out?" Clegene asked as he took a swig of strong-wine from his flask.
How the fuck could he be so at ease asking that, the priest wondered, giving his companion a sideways glance. It didn't look like getting hit by the wight with the warhammer had scattered his wits any. The dead had been many and they struck without warning, from around blind corners and secret passageways dug into the stone.
"Better than the damn stone servants," the Hound groused, guessing his thoughts. After a moment's thought, Thoros had to agree. The wights were tough and filled with an unholy vigor, but having a roof almost collapse on top of your head only for the rocks to pull together and try to pummel you into a bloody pulp was a nightmare that would keep him from resting well for at least a month, if something worse didn't come up. Faith and fire did not serve them as well against the rock spirits as it did with the wights, so it was most often a case of Prince Oberyn, the Hound, and Thoros himself pushing them through dark corridors, keeping one eye on the ceiling in case more of the things rained down on them.
"And we're still trying to talk to whatever is making all the noise," the Red Viper added sardonically. "I wonder if getting smeared on one of the walls would be enough to just kill whatever's down here?"
"I seem to recall you arguing the opposite position," Thoros noted mildly.
"I never said it was the safest idea, just what the king would do." A smile flashed over his features, swift but Thoros judged it as sincere as anything the man did. "In case you didn't notice, my goodbrother can turn into a giant dragon, a skill we here have sadly yet to master."
The warm light of Velen's wings approaching down the north corridor interrupted their discussion. His mind voice was solemn in their thoughts.
"We found the elemental caretaker of this place, and the spirit drum worked as we had hoped. Alas, it is not altogether... sane. Though nothing shows it to have been corrupted by Those of the Deepest North, unlike the dead laid to rest here and lesser constructs, it still could not bear the enforced loneliness of its condition."
"Can its mind not be healed by sorcery?" Thoros asked cautiously. He was not sure if he would want anything that had been locked in here to be healed rather than safely dead.
"No, the runes that contain its mind have been damaged by ice. That is why it was even able to scream out its sorrows in the tongue of earth for which its binders have no love. Unfortunately, that also means we cannot enter any of the vaults that remain intact, without first gaining its trust lest it think us common grave robbers."
"And we could never be called common, could we?" Oberyn jested. They still had two more weeks to sift through the tomb.
What do your agents focus on obtaining from the barrow?
[] The barrow spirit, a unique source on the history of the Lost Clans as well as a fascinating Quasi-Elemental spirit
[] Knowledge of runes, though the Lost Clans perished in the end they did so with far more knowledge of wards and runes than the modern Thenns
[] Ancient enchanted objects
[] Write in
OOC: I did roll quite a bit of fights for this one, but it's way too late to write it out. Hope this post action account words too. Not yet edited.
