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

You are resting your tired limbs in a masked camp in the wilds. The now-extinguished campfire was covered by the improvised canopy above the hole to avoid shining out your spot and placed below a tree, so its branches diffused the smoke. You must move covertly, through rugged terrain, and at long distances to avoid detection and to chase your mark while the 'trail' is hot.

You comb the perimeter with your gaze and then look at the far horizon that was still mirroring the hidden sun. Even though you were trained to resist panic, rage, and other emotions unbefitting or jeopardizing a soldier, but you weren't one for a long, long time. Sober, calculative mind paints the gloomiest of opportunity landscapes when mixed with the realization of own abnormally misfortunate state and situation. And the misfortune indeed pursued you like a pack of Eastlander's royalty hounds for a couple of years. How else would you end up alone, without the mount that was killed in a brigand ambush, having to move through a forest in which, judging by the closest ketches ramblings and a couple of gory scenes you saw in the last few days, an alpha manticore decided to make its cozy winter retreat?

But it was only half of the complications: you have to reach the city of Beilford - the former 'jewel' of the currently agonizing kingdom of Lasir before your mark decided to run further North, and before the huge expeditional (read: punitive) corps of Olfadir theocracy's knights and inquisitors that you narrowly avoided along the way, storm, slaughter, and pillage the city from the South, justifying it as an act of "divine retribution for political and religious heresy", and possibly killing the mark which you must capture and bring to your employer alive in the process. Indeed, the North was a progressively messed place ever since the "War of the First Star" - the bloodiest conflict recorded in the chronicles. The Realm spirit's 'Overflow' season didn't make it any easier, spawning more and more monstrosities, abominations, and events. Your body still carries the mementos of those in the form of scars.

As your thoughts shift to the topic of bodily injuries, you train your gaze on your left hand - it was relatively freshly regenerated, and so less massive and weaker that it's right sibling. Reminiscing about the circumstances that caused it bring you back in the day when the streak of failures decided to strike the first impression on you in the rudest of fashion.

Until that fateful day, you were on a roll - the hired guard captain of one of the Gvuroth city-states doges. Your former employer was no doubt a corrupt, depraved, and a cowardly type with a lot of enemies and even more ill-wishers - the living mockery of all the Roth, but with that, he was very generous to those to whom he entrusted his safety. A couple of days before the night when the villa was stormed by about five dozens of hostile clan combatants and hired blades, you had been pondering about retiring from your mercenary way of life, buying a small house in the city, where you would've opened a smithy with mechanical workshop, and even courting one handsome mistress of a famous tavern. Alas, all these plans were trampled down with the main gates of the property. A quarter of guards was killed, a quarter fled, a half was either maimed or heavily injured, the doge managed to flee. You were along those arguably fortunate who survived at the price of injuries. A lost left hand, in your case. Should you be older or from the different race, you would've become a miserable beggar, capable of little beyond disturbing respectable citizens near church districts with your ugliness. The regeneration period took the better half of your savings: you had to maintain a decent level of life stripped of the ability to replenish your funds via combatant craft. But at least you weren't going to become a gimp.

Your reputation was stained, your savings were depleted, and you were weakened. All these factors made you move North - away from the ruthless and expensive lands of Gvuroth, to the simply ruthless lands of Eastland kingdoms. You had to make your name shine again, as well as raise a remotely decent sum. One of the employers you've worked a couple of times before - the 'gray cardinal' of the Phaivean Kingdom - offered you a contract for capturing one of the wandering vigilantes with the lengthy kill streak of influential people and bringing her alive. It was the case when you wanted to refuse, but were hard-pressed against the wall by the oppressing circumstances. With sore heart and doubtful mind, you accepted, hoping not to slip to the wicked path of a hired hitman.

After a couple of months, you ended up here - alone in the forest with the humongous predator possibly lurking nearby, short on time, and dangerously close to your former homeland and its border patrols.

Your sights instinctively dart towards the distant northern horizon, where the spine of Mountains clutches into the welkin. How long it was since you turned from the promising if not entirely conventional officer into a deserter? Nine years? Or is it already a decade?

Your thoughts turn even darker once you think about the person you missed but wanted not to admit it even to yourself. Sophia, Your clever little sister whom you adored back in the day, she should've finished her hierarchy exams and orientation. She always was a curious and a clever one. When a kid, she said that she wants to become a mentor or a mechanist. Does she still remember how you encouraged her? Does she still remember you? And if so, did she remember you as a caring and helpful sibling, or as a disgrace of the Bhiroth society and violator of the core principles of the Chain?

You feel something starting to form in your eyes and decide to take a mighty sip of the beverage you took with you. Rather because you needed to divert the stream of thoughts before you lost the last remnants of dignity than because you felt cold or thirsty. You needed some rest before the next day. These marches were quite tiresome in the winter time... and you needed at least a glimmer of hope, a sign from above that you will break through this.

Then, when you calmed down and prepared to fade into the dream, a series of sharp female cries erupt you from the melancholy. They sounded like cries of a dire bear victim. But why would anyone be so deep in the forest? It can easily be a wight or a banshee, or even a hoar frost fiend luring you, or, maybe, it IS a distressed woman lost in the woods. After a couple of seconds of considerations, you decided to inspect the source of the sounds yourself.

Carefully and fully armed, you approached the place from where in your opinion the sounds rang. There was a grove and a trail in the snow leading further into the thicket. Ready to counter whatever jumps out of it, you proceed, discovering an odd sight in the snowy night: something looking like a young lander female, naked but with wings (Wings, dammit!) failing to play dead in the bushes because of the shiver. You raise your shield and ready your mace when the creature stands up and start to approach you through the veil of falling snow. She looks young, pretty, totally naked, and surely winged. When she smiles at you with a warm but a bit scared smile, you understand that she isn't a blood-crazed undead or a loci spirit, she is no doubt alive and sentient. You struggle with the urge to lower your guard when she approaches you close enough to see the glimmer of the moons in her eyes. You ask her who is she and what is she doing here, but she doesn't seem to understand you. You ask her what happened to her, but she shyly diverts her eyes downwards, conveying the whole picture of helplessness and unawareness to you. When you are about to mumble an old Bhirothian prayer to the Chain of the Kin, she sharply sneezes, making you reflectively raise your guards again and growing more scared of your reaction than you of her suddenness. Strangely, you feel the irrational and seemingly old-forgotten urge to pat her helpless blonde crown and to help her out from the cold.

Indeed, the oddest of encounters happen during the Gaiana's Flood.

Back there, you have had a brief moment to consider your further actions. Running away and leaving your companion didn't even occur to you, so you decided to assume the defensive stance and fend off the predators for as long as they grow discouraged from thinking of you as easy prey.

After a split second of stalemate, which looked like a second of peace before the storm, three bulkiest canines pounced at Kyres, managing to strike his mace from his grip and hang on his upper piece of armor, attempting to take him to the ground and dispatch in an all-out attempt. The predators surely knew what they were doing, clearly possessing sufficient experience of tackling massive targets. However, your guide also proved to be a seasoned fighter as he managed to preserve the balance and was fighting back using his gauntleted fists and the shield. With the moderate degree of success, strikes, bashes, and grabs with the consecutive attempts to use the wrestled beasts as improvised throwing projectiles ensued. However, you did not observe it for too long because once the pack deduced the failure of the blitz attempt, the beasts drew their attention to you.

You piked the shank you've been given towards a couple of bests that sought to hop at you at the first opportunity. You instinctively unfolded your young wings (possibly to make your overall size bigger and so more imposing), which seemed to work for a few moments but lost the repelling effect shortly. While your companion was engaged in a particularly brutal brawl with at least four beasts, one of the predators kept some distance while two others tried to flank you with less-than-subtle ill intent. You swung the dagger in front of them when they tried to lunge at you and attempted to shield yourself with the wings unfolded low above the ground. Shortly, one of the beasts decided to go for your pearl-white appendages, plucking some of the feathers, tackling you down on the snow, and opening an opportunity for both of its pack mates to finish you off on the ground.

In your perceptions, the flow of time slowed down nearly to the point of stopping. One houndish maw was attempting to ravage your right wing, the second one was rabidly trying to tear at the pile of rags that were your improvised footwear, and the last one mounted at you, bare moments away from digging into your neck with its fangs. A short and violent surge of the emotions you have never sensed before kicked in, forcing you to perform a strike on a primordially-furious reflex. A smell of iron followed, accompanied by the splash of red taking source from the beast's fresh neck wound. While the shocked charger recoiled due to pain, the surge of the savage instinct made you strike the animal repeatedly with all of your strengths for five times in total, drenching your tender hands in blood and forcing the attacker to get off of you. Your heart was beating like a drum, yet you could not hear it behind your half-shocked and half-frenzied state. The hound that attempted to rip your wing also took a couple of steps away after failing to find any flesh under feathers. The third carnivore went for an attempt to finish what its comrade was unable to accomplish.

Even though you reflectively prepared to counter the second living threat, the warg was slapped mid-air by Ulren's shield when it jumped at you. Kyres managed to pick up his weapon and re-adjust his stance while the attackers regrouped at a distance, recovering from hits and reevaluating the balance of the risk and reward. You also used this pause to stand up from the ground and to prepare for the possible next assault. Even the very first charger that was assumed dead after the collision with Kyres' mace lifted itself up with effort and began to limp towards their packmates, painting the snow carpet with the blood dripping from its head. The tense standoff ensued: for about twenty seconds, the beasts traced your moves, growled, and barked, remaining mostly stationary. Ulren took the point slightly ahead of you, ready to counter the second rush. You also prepared to assist him.

However, the wargs decided against taking the risk that the successive charge imposed on them. Without the advantage of the surprise element, no longer in the full physical integrity and with plenty of strengths wasted, the predators did not seem too eager. Unwillingly, the pack began to slowly backstep into the dead winter vegetation, continuing to vocalize threatening sounds, as if they were guarding the territory and implying more violence should you and Ulren not retreat as well. Judging by your guide's reaction, he perceived the situation precisely in such a way, considering that some hides and warg steaks were not worth his and your health or even lives. Carefully, you left the place where the conflict escalated, periodically checking whether or not you were followed. Thankfully, the pack wasn't chasing you, so the rest of the destination to the next camp spot, fortunately, turned out eventless.

After the camp was established in the same way as yesterday, with some minor differences caused by the terrain specifics, you took your time to regain strengths. You didn't feel right: the heartbeat refused to normalize, the thoughts were hasty and scattered, and you had absolutely no appetite. You felt semi-foul, but not because of any bodily injuries (which you were lucky to avoid if not to count the loss of some feathers) or the amounts of adrenaline in your blood (which was but natural after having a brush of the risk to one's life), but because today you have felt something you did not know before - your pristine heart was stained by the wraith just like a spark of fire stains a parchment. You did not know how to digest it, you did not know whether or not you will be the same again, and the thought that this wold might squeeze out more feelings akin to this only added more frustration and even dread.

Your guide, who was visually studying you, called you by the name you supplied him earlier and possibly attempted to reckon of how you were holding up. You were honestly surprised by how quickly he recovered from the event: he was acting as if nothing of significant magnitude happened at all. Is he just accustomed to the violence of this realm to the degree that he feels neither qualms nor doubts? This assumption didn't make you feel any comfort. This whole day made you feel (write-in). The good thing was that it was about to end, and so, soon enough, you sunk into the deep, dreamless sleep.


The next day met you wit the glorious sunshine: the skies were azure blue and cloudless. You caught yourself on the thought that whenever you see it, it fills you with the irrational sort of joy. Besides, the sleep wiped out almost all of the hard feelings you had from yesterday, leaving only the memories and a tiny trace of emotional discomfort whenever you recalled the events. Once again, you felt full of life, minus the still aching wings and the bruise on your face. You wondered, why did Ulren's kindred had hit you of all the sudden, and why did he have to act so violent? Why was Ulren helping you? Eager to communicate with your guide, you attempted to exchange some gestures. Ulren, however, even though becoming visibly relieved by the recovery of your spirit, was too busy preparing food and managing the camp, leaving your urge to speak rudely unanswered. You took your vendetta by greedily devouring the grub he found and, perhaps, even eating some of his share. The man gave you a sarcastic smile, whether due to your behavior or as a way to address the worsening deficiency of supplies.

Regardless, there was still a road ahead. During the day, you were contemplating on the nature of the light and the celestial object that radiated it. You felt an unexplainable but ingrained bond to it. This feeling made you theorize that the light might be the element that put all other aspects in check, organizes them, and serves for even more purposes that you do not know yet. It also possesses some traits, like being able to reflect and bend a little. You wondered whether or not you can manipulate the light aspect at all, making use out of the properties it possesses in plenty. You felt the power in it, and you found it hard to ignore it. Perhaps, you needed to give it more thought or even to exercise when you have more time and a stable environment.

Despite seeing various forest creatures that day, none of them seemed to perceive you as prey, so the day march proved to be an improvement upon yesterday. This allowed you to enjoy the surrounding nature and to distract your companion from his recurring brooding via a couple of silly scenes, including a little snowball fight. At first, he seemed surprised by your behavior, but not without enjoying later on the distraction you provided him with; you could see it in his eyes.

Later that day, closer to sunset, you came across a clearing in the forest filled with several human-like figures motionlessly lying and sitting on the snowy surface in rather disturbing poses. There was also a lesser mount creature (compared to those you have seen so far) lying amidst the human figures with the bags still attached to its harness. The oddest part of this sight came to you in a few heartbeats: you could not sense a single living spark in any of them! And even more - your senses were telling you of two odd spots of darkness hidden in the snow among the figures. These bizarre formations seemed to be completely opposite to the sparks you and Ulren possessed - they were not emitting the fire of life but seemed to feed on it, just like the perfect darkness that consumes light. This realization alarmed you, contrary to your companion, who calmly gestured you to stay where you were, assumed a cautiously defensive stance, and prepared to approach the figures, most likely to inspect them and (or?) their loot.

[] Stay where you are and let Ulren do his part.
He knows what he's doing. It may be risky, but he's been around for a while. Besides, there may be some supplies left.

[] Disobey and come with him
You don't really like those two weird spots. You are unsure whether or not he can sense them, but, perhaps, you would be able to help should the things go wrong... somehow.

[] Alert him and don't let him go there
Does he know that there are two forms of anti-life hidden in the snow? What if they are the reason behind the demise of these creatures? Whatever Ulren has on his mind, you want neither him nor you to take any risks.

[] Alert him before he goes there
Does he know that there are two forms of anti-life hidden in the snow? You need to make sure he realizes the risks before he does whatever he has planned.

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

It took a considerable effort to draw the attention of the footman who was already dead-set on venturing forth. After a series of pulls by his arm and a couple of irritating shakes from his side, he finally turned towards you. You pointed at those two spots in the snow that brought you to discomfort with their unusual nature and suspicious lack of activity. The stubborn side of Kyres made itself known as he turned to see the places you pointed at and then back at you, considering the reason behind your disturbance, and the validity of your warnings. For a moment, you could almost feel the skepticism scratching at the back of his helmet, but, eventually, he came to conclusions that made him slightly reconsider the approach. Maybe you were convincing, or perhaps something triggered his memory or expertise. Regardless, he quietly reached for his mace, changed the head of it for the one more silverish resting in the belt bag, enclosed the dagger which he had given you yesterday into your hands, and waved off, as if saying to keep the distance.

After making a little adjustment to his weapon, checking the sphere on his belt, and assuming the low, assault-ready stance, he sharply changed the course of his advance from the carcass of the mount to the closest snowbank you pointed at. It was at that exact moment when the sources of your worries made themselves clear: with some brief difference in timing, two short whirlwinds of cyan ether began to rise from the snow, enthralling the snow and icy shards with their spinning. These whirly movements caused the surrounding snow and ice material to assemble in what appeared to be their 'cores.' In addition to being encircled by the ghastly flows of green-blue aether, the fiends possessed rather grotesque shapes, reminding some sort of frozen partially dismantled torsos.

Your companion, however, did not seem to share your hypothetical fascination of the new discovery and has had much more violent intentions. Using the initiative opportunity provided by your earlier observations, he charged onto the closest whirlwind that only barely managed to form itself, slamming the crystallized 'core' of the latter without any hesitation or doubt. Under the first strike, the thing somehow vocalized an unnaturally nasty screech, more resembling the scratching sound between two smooth stones than something to be heard from a living creature. The animated assembly turned out to be quite nimble, evading from the path of a couple of successive strikes, and attempting to disengage from the melee. Yet, Kyres did not let it get away from the immediate proximity via mighty diagonal slam following it up with an accurate shield slap. After sustaining the bash and shrieking for the second time, the frost fiend's core literally exploded, showering Ulren with a cloud of sharp icicles, which clanged against his armor and shield. The aether released from the cracked heart stone descended to the ground, forming into prolonged tendrils and slipping into the half-frozen corpses of the former travelers like a bunch of rabid serpents. The dull shade of malachite light sparked in the eyes of the dead, after which they began to move once again, raising from their chilly places of perishing and advancing at you like obedient soldiers.

Now, both of you were facing seven hostiles in total: one remaining ice fiend that was floating behind the pack of the undead and shooting at the actively-blocking Ulren with icicle projectiles. The said undead contingency consisted of two armed corpses that once belonged to mercenaries or soldiers, two reanimated males of varying ages clad in once high-quality clothes, a well-off adult female who's charm was long-ruined by signs of the untimely death, with the undead mount completing the pack. The young man's corpse ventured in your direction while the rest of the zombie pack concentrated on surrounding, tackling, and dispatching Ulren.

Once again, you were forced to fight for your life. Still, in contrast to the wargs from the yesterday encounter, the undead was slow, unrelenting, and downright stubborn, which caused you to land strikes after strikes at the persistent corpse with all your strengths in hopes that it will shatter before you run out of vigor.

Ulren, however, fought much more graciously against remarkably higher odds. Despite the foes acting tactically, separating the mobile fiend capable of tossing high-velocity ice shards from threat via the pack of walking carrion and a dead charger, he carried out a perfect balance between blocking projectiles, dodging the mount whenever it jostled at him, and delivering per one or two crushing blows whenever an opportunity arose. After a few 'rounds' of this aggressive defense, he managed to break the mount's frontal knee, causing it to helplessly collapse in the snow obeying the force of inertia and was methodologically binding the remaining ice fiend in melee engagement.

In the meanwhile, using all of your strengths, you managed to land the blow that ultimately broke the solidified neck of your opponent, causing his decapitated body to collapse after an eery ten seconds of walking blindly and flailing hands helplessly. The second sound of shattering explosion and ice shards swirling in the air emerged seconds after the collapse of your opponent, signifying that Kyres has also dispatched his much more numerous adversaries. Slightly limping, he proceeded to inspect the remnants of the twice-perished travelers. Because of the exhaustion, you sluggishly joined him.

In about an hour, you were both sitting at the freshly established campfire, not that far from the place of your latest encounter. Among other things recovered from the bags were a set of spare female clothes, including a leather waist corset, a green robe dress, per a pair of boots and gloves, and some minor garments. That was a welcomed change to the rugs you were wearing, even if quite a bit loose at some places. There was also a set of oddly shaped little bottles with odorous liquids inside, some bandage rolls, and three books, two of which seemed to be printed, and the last one was handwritten.

Ulren was sitting against you, fiddling with the apothecary bottles and fabric. You were sitting near the campfire, heating up in your new garments but still enveloped in Kyres' cloak, and looking through the written book and the illustrations in it. Ulren was periodically looking at you with a slightly gloomy face whenever he thought that you are too consumed by the book. Maybe it was a lack of food supplies that will run out tomorrow, irritation about the wounds he might have sustained during the fight, contemplations on the nature of your spirit sensing ability, or something entirely different. The style of entries and several hand-drawn pictures of surprisingly high quality in the book you were inspecting convinced you that it might have been a journal of sorts. Judging by the resemblance of the images to those corpses you had to take down, it seemed that they were close to each other in life and decided to move from their previous habitat for the reasons unknown. Alas, all that they found was an untimely end by the ice fiends. It appeared that the icy entities were above them in the metaphoric feeding chain and ultimately used them as their servitude extensions. You avoided thinking of what might have happened with you should you fail to defend yourself.

But as much as you tried not to think about it, the idea that even organized groups do not always seem to survive in this world descended upon you. What resulted out of it was the admittance that you are not likely to survive even a couple of weeks should you not put effort into adapting and improving. With this sore idea stuck in your head, you diverted your gaze to the campfire. You have some time before moving out; best to use it wisely.

_____________________________________________________

Limit - 10 time points

Providing assistance

[] Help Ulren out with wounds treatment -3p
Easy intelligence attribute check (13), very easy pharma and treatment check (13), your luck roll; non-repeatable.
You're sure he's not as scratchless as he tries to appear. Perhaps you may help, or at least learn the basics of medical aid. (+1 pharma and treatment skill, consequence of the rolls in the story)

[] Help out with managing camp -3p
Easy intelligence attribute check (13), very easy daily craft check (13), your luck roll; non-repeatable.
You've seen how to run camps. Perhaps, you'll be able to save your guide some time by offering help? Maybe you would even learn how to cook given that your friend finds something edible (+1 daily craft skill, consequence of the rolls in the story)

[] Help with foraging -3p
Easy perception attribute check (13), very easy nature lore check (13), your luck roll; non-repeatable.
You still remember those edible berries, right? Might help with searching for edible plants in the morning (+1 nature lore skill, consequence of the rolls in the story)

[] Help with hunting -3p
Easy perception attribute check (13), trivial huntsmanship skill check (11), your luck roll; non-repeatable.
You can barely understand the principle of the hunt, but maybe you would learn something or even prove useful? Besides, you can sense living things! (+1 huntsmanship skill, consequence of the rolls in the story)

Training

[] Asking Ulren for some training -3p

-[] Ask for melee practice
-[] Ask for defense practice
-[] Ask for ranged practice
Very easy persuasion skill check (13), your luck roll; non-repeatable.
He is more than adequate when it comes to the rough sort of confrontations. He might be busy performing the survival duties and not feeling too well after the latest fight, but he seems to like you, so persuading him to show you some moves might not be a big deal (+1 to the one of your choosing).

[] Study/train your wings -2p
No rolls; your wings proficiency is the separate skill; you need it at 4 to assist with overall mobility and glide, 8 to fly, 12 to perform complicated tasks and advanced flight; repeatable.
If you have them, they should be useful. As far as you have seen, the nature of this world does not tolerate redundancy. (+1 per a round)

[] Self-study the thaumaturgy aspect -4p
Normal intelligence attribute check (15), easy arcane skill check (17), your luck roll; +1 is warrantied, additional +1 is granted if both rolls are successful or one failed roll is compensated with the luck; non-repeatable.
You've been studying this issue of late, observing its functions in the realm. You believe that you can advance this knowledge.

[] Self-study the spirit aspect -4p
Normal intelligence attribute check (15), easy arcane skill check (17), your luck roll; +1 is warrantied, additional +1 is granted if both rolls are successful or one failed roll is compensated with the luck; non-repeatable.
You've been practicing this aspect actively, managing to earn hypothetical benefits. You think that you can advance your skills in this direction much, much further.

Pastime and other activities

[] Communicate with your companion on the matter of (write-in) -2p
Easy Intelligence attribute check (12), easy Wisdom attribute check (12), The action itself and each successful roll decreases the - wisdom ignorance debuff by 1/3 point if the topic of the question is correctly picked; repeatable.
You have so much to learn about this world...

[] Ask Ulren to read (and explain) one of the recovered books -4p
Normal persuasion skill check (20), easy intelligence attribute check (12), easy wisdom attribute check (12), your luck roll; If the persuasion roll is successful (or compensated with luck), the action itself and each of the remaining rolls decrease the - wisdom ignorance debuff by 2/3 point and earn additional benefits; non-repeatable.
The books! Ulren might be upset by the fact that both of you have risked for some lousy print, but you absolutely want to know what's written in them and even more, you want to learn how to read. Persuading him to spare a lot of time with you may not be that easy, but this might be very beneficial to you... if he can read, that is... he is literate, right?

[] Inspect (write-in) -1p
Pick to gain more insight on whatever object (or subject) within your reach, no benefits past the detailed information, repeatable.
There is a lot of new things around, you feel the itch to study them.

[] (Write-in)
You may have some interesting ideas, aren't you?

About continuity of the story. Basically, the updates will be like varying phases of event chains, camping, and specials. For example:
E - E - E - C - C - E - E - E - S - C - C - E - ...

As for the voting time, I'd give it a couple of days. The odds are, I'll be able to deliver the next update quickly