Characters
| Major
| Supporting
| Minor
| Antagonists
| Mentioned
|
|---|
- Arthak Saurfang
- Nyxxa Murkthorn
- Rak'Symma
- Seria
- Sol'chi
|
|
|
- Heimir
- Oktel Dragonblood
- Rythas
|
- Bjolf
- Chen Stormstout
- Nithogg
- Odyn
|
December 30th
As Vydhar roused, he said he had sensed the group skittering across the forest, and he noted that they seemed to have restored him. He asked who they were that removed the corruption from his roots.
Arthak Saurfang says: Seekers on the path of the gods. We seek your trial.
Vydhar says: I see… it has been many seasons since one has beseeched me for such things. Many seasons indeed have I slumbered. It is good to see, to smell, to feel these woods alive once more, and you, you who seek… you have come to me for the Trial of Will, yes…
Arthak nodded.
Vydhar says: There were others who came here, but they did not beseech me. I felt their footsteps heavy with purpose and malice as they came through these woods. It was by their hand that I was sealed, but by yours I was renewed. For this…. You have earned my trust and my favor. I will be glad to show you the path. It is a simple thing. One that even outsiders like yourself will be able to accomplish. Thou needest only two things if you wish to beseech the ancient spirits of this world. It is curious that so many outsiders seek this trial, but it is not my place to judge or bar your path. But… it is my place to warn you. Know the ancient kings and queens of these lands will not take kindly to your presence, strangers. But if you hope to meet their judgement, you may beseech them with the Ritual of Awakening. To do this, you need two things. An aromatic to burn, and an offering to present. You will find suitable incense scattered around the Runewood. Seek the soulvines and you will find what you need. But… for an offering, you need something suitable. Something fit for a king. The bjornharta. An offering that is prized. Fit only for kings. There are many of you. Thus you may need… an appropriate amount of them, if not one suitably large specimen. The bears of the Runewood have been prized for their meat. You may hunt them. No spirits could resist the scent when combined with the incense.
Hilaire says: As it turns out, we actually have a bjornharta. One that I believe is suitable for your purposes.
She produced the massive heart, and Vydhar’s eyes widened.
Vydhar says: That will suffice, yes.
Rak'Symma says: It was one I was hoping to return to you.
Vydhar says: This unbeating heart… it’s familiar. Where did you find this creature?
Rak'Symma says: He was lost in more ways than one. By the time we put an end to his wandering, the only name he knew was yours.
The wooden wrinkles of the tree softened.
Vydhar says: I see… after all these years, Bjolf has come home… I know the one of who you speak. In the time I too had a heart that beat, ours beat as one. We tended these roots together, and learned from the lands and the beasts. But… when the years passed, and the skies darkened, our paths diverged. I remained here, became one with the land, bound my spirit and my blood and flesh into this ancient Runewood, so my eyes might watch and my ears might listen to the seasons change, and my lips might carry the secrets of this land and pass them forward to those that come after. But Bjolf… he walked the path of vengeance. He set out from these woods, seeking to cut down those who would threaten it and the land. In time… I forgot what his face looked like, and when he returned to these woods… he was Bjolf no more. Oh… to know he has returned here now… that his spirit can rest finally… the cycle has been complete. You have done well. Use Bjolf’s heart for the rite. Let that which gave him the strength to walk his path guide you down the path of your own, and with it… let my dear Bjolf rest finally. May he drink and rest and hunt forever after. With the bjornharta in hand, you have almost everything you need. You need only travel northward. Find an ancient cairn. Jutting off, overlooking the Field of Kings… burn the incense, offer the heart, open yourselves to the judgement of the kings and queens of the past and prepare yourself, for they will not accept you unless you prove thyselves. If you accept your offering, they will rise, they will be led to your offering by the incense, and then you may ask for your judgement. But… know that the dead will not be awakened easily. They will not enjoy their reverie to be interrupted.
Nyxxa Murkthorn says: I worry what the others might have done…
Vydhar says: I cannot say how they may have desecrated this place, for my eyes have been darkened. But I can say there are no more in these woods. I do not feel them scurrying in the shadows.
They decided to head to the cairn, and Vydhar offered to guide them to the site with his branches and roots, and a breeze on the wind.
Hilaire says: I’m glad I was able to help you, wanderers. This is your trial to undergo. It would be improper for me to intervene. But at the very least, I can travel with you while you are here in the Runewood. I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t be interested in seeing the rite, and perhaps… perhaps, if you would permit me, I would watch the end of the saga of the Mordvigbjorn. If the gods are good… perhaps I will see my son one last time before we are reunited in Valhallas.
Vydhar said he would whisper the process of the ritual to them on the wind when they arrived. Sol asked if Vydhar had seen a pandaren named Chen Stormstout, and the ancient druid did not know any such man, but he did observe that a drinking gourd had been left amongst his roots with purpose. He invited Sol to take it. It contained a Potion of Heroism, and there was a scroll on it with a series of symbols that read: To the weary traveler, may this brew wet your whistle and give you the strength to keep going.
Hilaire said that she had seen something like that before, and she produced a letter that said roughly the same thing. She explained she had seen someone matching the man’s description and she had been given a drink. She had been able to speak with him with little issue, curiously enough. She had pointed him toward an ancient master of brew in the lands, a hermit named Melba.
As they reached the cairn, they heard a whisper on the wind that seemed to convey a meaning. They were instructions to scale the stone palm and rest in it beneath the fingers and lay out the soulvine as well as paint their faces with the nectar before burning its flowers. They would then slice into the bjornharta for the aroma to be carried on the incense.
They all painted their faces and burned the incense as Symma cut open the bjornharata with her talons. An acrid smoke filled the air like a mist. The nectar on their faces began to tingle.
The ones on Nyxxa and Arthak’s face started to burn.
An ancient, rotting vrykul clad in a steel helm appeared above them. Arthak recalled a tale of a great king that ruled the Tideskorn named Heimir of the Black Fist. He would wander the world and challenge people to duels even if they didn’t share a language, but he learned from all opponents he faced. A woman, this one who wore no armor but instead was painted bright crimson like blood. There were parts of his body that seemed to be untouched by decay, as they were instead covered with crimson scales. Her bright eyes glowed with slitted pupils. Havi had told Arthak a tale of a great warrior and runebinder named Dragonblood, and there was a time when giants waged war against the shadows. Amongst their legions were terrible creatures in the dark. Oktel, she who would become Dragonblood, tracked the beasts to their hives and burned them from the burrows, but she was torn to pieces. She suffered for days and nights, but on the fourth day, a great crimson wyrm found her and asked why she continued to fight for her life. Oktel said she had much left to do, and so the dragon consumed her in radiant flame and Oktel was reborn. She was bound to the dragon blood, and the great wyrm told her to finish her quest. The last spirit was a ghostly wraith, the bent, old vrykul hollow and skull-like. Arthak recalled an ancient oracle that had been told by Rythas the Oracle, according to Havi:
Our world is young. It sleeps, troubled with dreams. I have known its slumber. I have felt its heart beat. Darkness seeks to claim it. Beneath the land, chaos. Beneath the sea, patient menace. Our hope lies in the sky. Odyn's refuge must stand. The world's soul is weak. It will one day be strong. Only the worthy can protect it. Do not fear death. To live as a vrykul is to know danger. A glorious death will not be the end. The second life begins in the sky. Odyn's refuge must stand. The Halls of Valor will one day close. Its gates barred, its heroes spurned. A champion will rise and break them free. The champion's face is hidden; their name is cloaked. What power will this creature hold? It will arise in time. It will save us all. It will ensure that Odyn's refuge will stand.
Oktel Dragonblood says: You who have called us from the gates of valor, you wish to walk amongst the chosen? You wish to walk through Odyn’s halls though you are not from these lands or reached your glorious deaths in battle? Who are you to claim such an honor? To disturb the spirits of the dead?
Arthak Saurfang says: We are champions, warriors, defenders, seekers. We are not here for glory, but for the need of this land.
Rythas the Oracle says: The needs of this land? You dare to speak of the needs of this land? You are outsiders… only the strong may protect this world. Only the strong may guard its soul. We are the blood of this world. You are not. Who are you to seek our judgement? To disgrace Valhallas with your heresy?
Arthak Saurfang says: If you wish for strength and blood, you will have it. We have slain Nithogg, felled giants, not just for us, but for preservation of this land. One born to this land has perverted and spat upon it. Outsiders we may be, but we know strength and we know respect.
Heimir of the Black Fist says: I have seen the strength of this world, I have seen its valor, I have seen it sacrifice. You who would seek the greatest honor, you who have slain gods and men, your words… they speak with the edge of steel. And in steel, shall your words be known.
He lifted his great blade toward Arthak in a universal sign to fight.
Heimir of the Black Fist says: Warriors of eld, champions of Stormheim, your strength is needed to test the strength of these outsiders.
They heard the sound of footsteps all around them, and dozens of spectral warriors emerged. Oktel Dragonblood called for them to show her their fury, and she released a fiery exhalation over the group. The fiery war paint on Arthak and Nyxxa started to burn more intensely.
Arthak grew to his giant size and closed on Heimir. As he brought his sword down, Heimir slid to the side and struck his sword out. Arthak blocked it and continued to swing with a series of well-practiced strikes. A corner of Heimir’s peeled lip curled up in a smile that Arthak returned.
Rythas raised his hands and called on the spirits of the Runewood to enervate his enemies. It was [Horrid Wilting], and the leaves around him started to wilt. Their life force was sapped from them.
Symma attempted to turn the undead that had swarmed around them, but the force of their Purpose allowed them to overcome the pulse of divine energy. Nyxxa applied affliction poison to her blades before she rushed at Oktel. It seemed like she was resistant to the radiant nature of the point due to her affiliation with red dragons.
A risen warlord approached Sol as his blade glowed with a bright magic. The blade came within inches of striking Sol.
Heimir of the Black Fist says: Sons of daughters of Stormheim! Show them our strength! Show them our fury!
Heimir swung with swift and powerful strikes at Arthak as he tried to use his own size against him. Various vrykul hosts started to fire arrows at Symma while Seria took her massive bear form and she gouged her claws into her body to heal Sol with [Life Transference]. Meanwhile, Oktel slashed out with her weapon.
Rythas looked over the battlefield and his eyes fixed on Symma.
Rythas the Oracle says: You… shall be released from your mortal coil.
He pointed at her and used [Shadow Word: Death]. The tattoo on her back seared to life and a voice told her it was not time. Her heart, which had momentarily stopped beating, restarted, and she fluttered in the sky, just barely alive.
Arthak continued to focus on Reimir, and the warlord grabbed the blade and attempted to wrestle it out of his hands. Arthak forced the blade down and bit into the undead’s arm. Arthak swung around again and fully severed the undead’s arm.
Arthak Saurfang says: You fought well, but this is done.
Fiery chains wrapped around the risen king and drove him to the ground where he impaled the undead on his sort, defeating Reimir the Blackfist in single combat.
Rythas formed ink into a massive runic circle and a matching circle appeared on the ground and grew to a massive proportion. He used [Circle of Death]. Following the explosion of deathly energy, Sol reached out and used [Heal] on Symma, nearly fully restoring her.
Rythas’s focus was turned toward Sol instead and started to cast a spell. Sol was able to counter it, and the wraith twisted the magic into a [Blight] spell instead.
Lightning crackled around Symma’s talons as she released a [Chain Lightning] , which obliterated one of the spirits. Rythas hurled a [Harm] spell at Sol, while Seria raked into a restless thane and destroyed it.
The vrykul skald closed on Sol and started to spar with him. The skald cast some vicious mockery his way. However, Sol heard only laughing ghosts and he asked what the skald even said.
Oktel seemed to have accepted Arthak’s duel as she opted to focus on him with a gleeful laugh, as she wanted to see what she could do against the man that fell the Blackfist.
