A Challenge by Moonlight
Sixteenth Day of the Twelfth Month 292 AC
The worst of it is you sympathize with her helpless rage. To be faced with something beyond her strength, a monster she could not hope to slay and be told to leave it in peace on the strength of the thing's word "Are you not rid of the worst of it?" you ask simply. "No more will they hunt men, no more to make a foe to your kindred perhaps even an ally in harsh..."
"I'd sooner be dead than fight beside 'em!" the spear-wife snarls. "D'you know what they did? Poor Olvar never hurt no one and old Harg who taught me to string a bow..."
"Would either of them want you dead or worse over avenging them?" you shout back before she can lose herself in her grief. "The Long Night comes!" The leaves of the trees rattle in a cold breath of wind when you speak your fears clearly for the first time. "Not this year, not the next perhaps, but soon enough that you will look upon it with eyes not so different from the ones that look upon the world now. How many do you think lie buried over eight thousand years ready to rise again to an unhallowed call?"
A great shaggy head turns to you, eyes shining milky-white against brown fur. "Do not speak of them to the night wind," he warns. Then he turns to Elle. "If you wish to challenge me then do so, do not drive others to do it."
"Liar and skin thief I name you, hiding in the flesh of others," the spear-wife calls back. "I've not the magics to kill what you are nor the means to learn them."
Words of sorcery already lie on the tip of your tongue, to protect the spear-wife if nothing else, yet the attack you had been expecting does not come. Instead the great bear growls. "Truth you speak. Your people's forgetfulness might yet make a coward of me. Know now what you must do if you would face me: On the third full moon of the new year come forth before the doors of our hall and there I will meet any who dares unbound in flesh. A blade of silver you would need to cut me true."
"He does not lie," you offer. It would be rather pointless to do so after all, and what you do know of shape-changers tells of the power that moon and silver holds over them.
"Southrons make silver coins, don't they?" Elle finally asks between clenched teeth.
"Aye, that we do," Harwood answers as if not quite believing his ears. "That'll take a lot of stags and stars though."
"I've got time enough," she answers, resolute. When next you meet her eyes you are surprised to see not a trace of anger towards you remains there.
So much for talk of unity, you shake your head. Some wounds no words can sooth, however honeyed.
As soon as the bear-man steeps beneath the Heart-tree's limbs where the moonlight is tinted crimson the beast begins to stir, but he gives it no chance to do more. With a mighty heave he smashes his vanquished foe into the ground, breaking bone and horn alike. "Offer sacrifice to the gods as is your right and speak the pledge anew in their hearing," the spirit says.
You look into the face carved into the tree. It might be one of the lost Children of the Forest, though much worn by time. Deep grooves are carved into its cheeks by the passing of years and sap trickles through them like tears of blood.
What do you ask of the Gods?
[] Safe passage to your final destination
[] A weapon to fight the foes of life
[] A shield against the dark
[] Write in
OOC: If you pick safe passage it will make the journey to Bloodraven considerably smoother so if you want more time with him that would be the one to pick.
