Heimurn Chronicles (No, SV, you're a young valkyrie in the middle of a bizarre and dangerous journey)

Your body felt like a ruin, your thoughts were heavy with concerns, and your ability to estimate the situation from the emotional standpoint seemed to be burnt out at the time. Maybe, the lack of agency over the events you been through in some measly ten or so hours was just way too abnormal, or perhaps you have a bit too many emotional shifts in a single day. Anyway, your emotions fell into hibernation, handing all the initiative to your survival-obsessed mind. To avoid felling into the brooding mood, you decided to focus on the only factor of stability you came along so far: your bulky companion.

For some time, you passively observed his actions, mostly aimed at various manipulations with the site you have uncovered. It appeared to you that he's going to re-establish the camp in this place since it offers better shielding from the weather and side observers than the previous one, situated in the relative openness. You continued to watch the process in silence up until the entity has begun to do manipulations like starting to dig a little trench inside the cavern, clearing it from snow, and making a shallow but elongated hollow. Maybe you just wanted to speed up the time for rest, or, perhaps, you wanted to be useful, but regardless of your motives, you approached the hollow the person that picked you up (twice) earlier was digging and began to mimic his actions. After a short but awkward pause that ensued, Clank gave you the flat, compact tool with a handle that he used to dig the hollow, and ventured out of the shelter for whatever reasons. You were left to the hopes that you would not see any more unexpected visitors. Thankfully, he did not venture far: in a matter of ten minutes, he was back with two heaps of dead tree branches and bits of shrubs. During the following thirty minutes or so, with your help, the breached side and the exit from the cavern were immured with the snow and stone slabs recovered from surroundings. The entrance was covered by the thick piece of fabric that formerly served as the surface of a triangular tent from the previous camp, a couple of vent holes were made to allow air circulation, and the bonfire was summoned at the center of the hollow which you dug up.

There, late at night, you and your companion sat, lit by the hidden fire's tendrils. The odd sort of silence ensued: the type that typically accompanies not words but studying stares. Using the opportunity to examine your new friend in finer details thanks to the proper illumination, you slowly but steadily scanned him. It is worth to mention that he did the same, although his eyes were hardwired to your wings - those two big, white, and aching inconveniences to which you struggled to find any justification at the time. It appeared like they were the only thing he found particularly intriguing about you, making it seem like naked blondish damsels in the woods were from the realm of normality to him. Unlike his reaction to you, the massive being that was sitting against you wasn't something from your desperately short life experience, and so you took the extra care to study the person.

Due to the absence of knowledge of any measurement system, your only way of comparison was against your proportions. According to this crude method of evaluation, Clank seemed to be time and a half higher than you. As for his weight, you could only guess that he was up to four times heavier than you should his density be the same, including the carapace bits. When you noticed that each of his arms was almost as thick as your waist, you came up to a single adjective when describing this creature on one's mind: huge. The proportions of the creature's body pointed that it was well adapted to the rough realm outside, having a prominently broad torso, wide shoulders, thick arms, and massive legs. The vibe of solidity that his frame was projecting outwards was reinforced further by the short yet thick neck, on which his jowly head rested. You found his face rather bland, except a few details: a couple of facial scars with the one on the left cheek being quite conspicuous, and the shortly-shaved hair that was almost as short as the stubble on his broad chin. Overall, his face looked rather brick-ish, complimented with the colorless, gray eyes. The looks of this person certainly weren't made to captivate. His compositive carapace looked fittingly massive, thick, and with asymmetrical pauldrons. There were also dents and scratches on it, pointing to the extensive usage. Compared to the shells the previous captors were clad in, Clank's armor was stripped of the more peculiar details and other distinctive signs, gray instead of black, and in worse shape overall. The bulky man was also equipped with a four-edged shield, a sophisticated mace, a few pouches on the heavy belt, and a complex yet compact contraption with bow limbs folded beneath his right gauntlet. All in all, the visual cues suggested that your guide was prepared for the dangers that were lying beyond the borders of this flimsy shelter.

After a while, you felt the weight in your eyelids. The need to have some rest was overpowering you, which wasn't a surprise considering what you been through that night. Your companion also grew seemingly drowsy, so, soon enough, a part of the ashes from the bonfire was evenly scattered at the camp's hollow and covered with some ground and dust to normalize the heat of the surface. You have had to sleep on the bare ground, enveloped in a thin cloak. It was relatively warm and windless at the very least. Your companion grabbed one of the stones that were used for the campfire, sat against one of the walls closer to the exit, balancing between passing out, looking outside, and observing the campfire.


You slept deeply and dreamlessly, experiencing no visions or interruptions of your rest up until morning. Maybe it was a delayed dream, but the first sound you heard after or during recovering from the dreamy haze was quite familiar to you even if unexpected - the hoot that you heard from the two-faced bird yesterday. Angry on this pesky feathery stalker, you sluggishly stood up to peek outside the shelter. The bird from before wasn't there: only Clank pilfering the nearby bushes of their tiny but plentiful reddish berries.

You rested properly and regained back your senses, which weren't all that pleasant: you still felt the chill caused by the improper clothing, your face hurt even more than yesterday - the facial bruise was now real, you were hungry for both food and answers. Where are you? Who is your companion, and what are their motives? What is your destination? Who were those beings that captured you yesterday? The questions piled faster than the yesterday night snow. Your irritated musings were interrupted by the camp bowl full of berry puree, with some pungently smelling gravy stuffed into your hands.

Contrary to your expectations, the grub proved tasty! Bittersweet and seemingly filling you with warmth from within. You enjoyed it up to the degree when you ate more than a half, leaving about a quarter of the contents to your much more spacious companion, who didn't seem to mind much your troublesome table habits. And how could someone be angry at such sweet (if a bit bruised) creature like yourself except those brutes from yesterday night?

After staring for some time at the pale winter sun that, for some reason, still charged you with energy and enthusiasm despite the melancholic scene, you decided to go for a round of pestering your guide. Using extensive gesturing that bordered in complexity with an act of pantomime theatrics, you attempted to inquire about your companion. In return, he reflectively scratched the side of his helmet, looked at the horizon, crouched down, and began to draw something on the pristine snowy carpet with a branch of a bush.

The first thing he sketched was a singular doodle, pointed at himself and spoke three words, the two latter of which sounded like 'Ulren Kyres.' Then, he added seven more similar doodles to the right from the one that was supposed to represent himself. "Bhiroth," he spoke again while encircling all the doodles, grouping them under one name. Then, he drew a line between the single one to the left and the rest to the right, illustrating some sort of separation between himself and what was supposed to be his Bhiroth kin. Then, he took out the intricate piece of wrapped in leather cover paper, revealed it, exposing intricate drawings on its beige surface, and encircled a particular zone with his armored finger. You have never read maps before, but you managed to understand that he was showing the habitat of his kin. "Bhiroth," he said again and pointed at the center of the highlighted zone, "Ulren Kyres of Bhiroth," he spoke with his a somewhat hoarse voice and poked slightly below the assumed habitat of his kin. With some logic and intuition, you understood that he was trying to say that the people that nabbed you yesterday were his kinsmen, your companion's name is Ulren Kyres, and he is separated from his kin in one sense or another. The answer that you received only raised more questions, though. You deduced that there might be a lot of other races, considering that you possess significant biological differences with your rescuer, and the supposed habitat of his people occupied only a part of the map that he showed you. These realizations somehow reacted with the tar-like feeling in your head, making your metaphoric brain gears grind slightly faster.

But it was not the end of your conversation. After presenting himself, Ulren put his expecting gaze at you and spoke something you could not understand but was almost sure it to be a question. You think he was asking for your name...

[] After a couple of shaky attempts, you spelled "(Write-in)"
You are absolutely sure that you have never had a name before, but what's stopping you from picking one by yourself?

[] You just shook your head in renouncement
You don't have a name and can't come up with anything that would symbolize you or your hypothetic kin, which you have never met.

Anyway, the time for conversations was running to its end. So, your friend made improvised 'hat 'and 'footwear' for you by wrapping the pieces of fabric from his meager possession around your limbs, packed the belongings and instruments back into the bag, and ventured forward into the unknown. His periodic backward glances traced you following him as well as your condition.

The day went by uneventfully, and for once, you were grateful for it. You followed Ulren in his steps, using the trench in the snow that he left for own advantage. You enjoyed your time, overwhelmed by the sights of the fabulous nature. Despite the previously harsh acquaintance with this realm, you were undoubtedly in high spirits because of the novelty of the discoveries and the sunny weather. The uplifted morale resulted in you attempting to communicate with Kyres for a few times with the predictable outcome due to the language barrier. At least, your occasional merry chirpings pulled your friend out of the pensive mood, which appeared to be his default state.

Alas, that walk could not last forever in the way it started. Closer to the sunset, when the cloudless skies painted blood red and gold near the horizon, a sudden chain of distanced howling sounds alerted Ulren. He used the opportunity to hand you a sharp, pointy object and unholster his own weapon before proceeding forward. The precautions were proven fitting for the situation as about a dozen lesser life sparks appeared within the range of your senses and rushed at you both distressingly fast.

In a couple of brief seconds, Ulren struck something with his mace, emitting a juicy splash of accelerated steel colliding against the flesh, and bashing away whatever got too close to him. Your sight scope trained at the convulsing bestial body. It resembled the hound the other Bhiroths were using yesterday, but lesser, unarmored, more rabid, and now with the caved skull. Seven more of its pack mates followed, encircling you and attempting for an organized lunge at the first suitable opportunity.

Ulren backpedaled close enough to set his shield to cover your flank. You felt every bit of tension of the situation while clutching to the sharp shard of iron Kyres gave you, listening to the accelerating heartbeat and the blood pulse. The timeframe for carrying out a decision of what to do was narrow and only fading fast.

[] Run!
These beasts are faster than both of you. Obviously, not an option.

[] Fight!
There is no turning back in this encounter. These beasts are dangerous to any traveler and, for the sake of everyone's safety, need some proper culling. Not mentioning that they might be walking resources for survival (Ulren's melee combat throw + your melee combat throw/3 against hard melee skill check (24), Ulren's defense throw against hard defense skill check (24), your luck throw)

[] Defend!
These things are no doubt hunters. Should they meet resistance that outweighs the profit, they may retreat. Your task is to not to get injured in the process. (Ulren's melee combat throw against hard melee skill check (24), Ulren's defense throw + your defense throw/3 against hard defense skill check (24), your luck throw)

[] Retreat!
If you move away steadily enough and beat the attackers in the meantime, they might decide against following you... Maybe (Ulren's melee combat throw against normal melee skill check (20), Ulren's defense throw against normal melee skill check (20), Your and Ulren's mean mobility attributes throw against easy mobility attribute check (13), your luck throw)

[] Climb the tree!
Escape the immediate reach of these beasts. Leave your companion to deal with them alone. Hope for the best... (Your balance throw against a very easy balance skill check (14), your luck throw)

[] Write in
You're a clever girl, aren't you?

((Sorry for the delay. I'm approaching the apogee of the visa process and thus having rather stressful times that don't actually encourage writing))