IoK Session 12 – ACT I Conclusions

“Damn it, Talanic… I don’t know what she’s talking about!”

Remenik was red.  The exasperation and fatigue shown through him with every breath, shining as a crimson furnace, and like a furnace… his lungs weezed and huffed like bellows feeding the flame.

“Remenik… This attack was more than just staking claim to their turf.  That elf called you out.  If you know nothing of this ‘Entropy Engine’, then why does she know of you?”

Astride his marbled mare, Talanic looked down on Remenik.  The older dwarf was struggling to mount his horse, and his frustration was evident.  Nothing in Talanic’s gaze offered support.  He simply watched, impatient.  Even enjoying the vantage of speaking to Remenik from his high horse.

Giving up on the mount, Remenik threw the reins over the saddle and started walking.  It was meant more as a gesture to Talanik.  An attempt to take control over his situation, but his limping gait betrayed the need for a mount.  Remenik would never make it far on foot, and though he did his best to not let his aching knee get the better of him, his direction was simply to find Jacob or Colm in order to gain the assistance he sorely needed.

As he hobbled toward the other dwarves, he could feel the weight of their situation pressing down on him.  On all of them.  His knee hurt, and he believed it was due to the burden that Ironsbane once carried for him.

Approaching the stretcher, Remenik gestured to the Srylian priestess.  Hsyrolno knelt near the old smith.  In one hand, she held a wooden cup full of a pungent poultice.  The other applied it to the dwarf’s wounds.  Slow and methodical, she worked with a patience and calm that was desperately needed amongst the caravan… as if her actions could heal the body of the smith while mending the spirits of the miners.  Alongside her, ZzyZzyk searched through the collection of herbs and vials.  Whatever he was looking for eluded him. 

“This one cannot quench his fever, Keymeister.  The master smith will need more than blessings and salves.”

Hsyrolno didn’t not pause from her actions or look at Remenik while speaking.  The application of her poultice itself seemed a ritual which she would not stray from. 

Remenik regarded the pale smith for a long moment.  These two healers have done everything within their power, both within the realms of medicine and magic.  It was an infection which would kill Ironsbane, not Nevil’s knife.  Were they in Forgen, the proper Dranite cures would be within ease of reach.  Infection and disease were the devils of the battlefield, a far greater danger than any dagger or arrow.  They didn’t just kill their victim… they poisoned the spirit of those around them.  There was no greater pain than watching your own die slowly, powerless to stop it.  Gar’s strength, Armin’s speed, Colm’s faith, and Mip’s spirit.  Even Ket with the luck of a hynid could not steal Ironsbane from his fate. 

But perhaps ZzyZzyk could.  Like the Dranites, ZzyZzyk’s knowledge of healing may be able to sway death’s grasp. 

With the help of Jacob, Remenik was able to finally get a leg over the saddle and unburden his knee.  A last long look at Ironsbane, then he pulled the reigns and returned to the side of Nine Hammers.

“Talanik… we need to send the scouts south.  Mip and Ket spotted skindancers watching the fight in the forest.  I believe it was they that chased off the Maji, not us.  That wyvern we saw was no coincidence… I believe it may have been a servant of their tribe.  A band of seven skindancers is a rare thing, and for them to take an interest in our activities should not be taken lightly.”

“After such an attack, we can’t afford to send off our guards!  Let the old smith rest and the Srylian do their job.”

Bolan Nine Hammers had joined his father’s side during Remenik’s absence.  With Ironsbane incapacitated, Bolan had taken over command of the mining expedition.  Being the elder son, Talanic had naturally wanted to see Bolan step into leadership.  It didn’t take long to see how his ill temper and contempt for the working class gnawed at the morale of the caravan.

“Bolan, we can’t let our master smith die.  You have months of mining ahead of you.  Norgart is nursing a wound himself, meaning you have no one to work a forge.  How long do you think our tools will last in the forest?  How did do you think you’ll get with no repairs?”

It was a cold way to address the threat on Ironsbane’s health, but it was at least one that Bolan could agree with. 

“Send the scouts south to find the medicine ZzyZzyk is seeking.  The Northwinds can defend us once we have set up camp.”

Talanik eyed the Keymeister, but didn’t speak.  As they both sat atop their horses, the high ground had been lost and the senior Nine Hammers waited for his son to address the matter.

“Fine.  Let them go, but if the golyn attack while they are away, I’ll hold you responsible.”

With a nod, Remenik heeled his horse and turned to leave.  The scouts would seek out the skindancers, and they best leave immediately.