Unti Family/Nerta/A5S1

Dancer's Tale
Letter from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Personal letter to Dancer Rea The crude words are barely legible. Hey Crown Rack, Ancient treaties, something something. I'm passing through and don't care about your brawl. Leave me out of it. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Dancer Rea Message sent to Personal letter to Nerta the Weaver Who the hell do you think you are, child? Dancer Rea (King of Thalmarkin)
Balin's Tale
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods “So you, must be Balin.” The words come from a woman rumbling along the dirt path to the construction site. Her wheelbarrow of bricks clacking, she stops by the man who’d given the orders to get to work. She had a gruff voice, bright eyes and somehow was able to shlep bricks in a cloak. “Big priest like you, how do you help people?” She jerks her chin toward the worksite, “Besides big temples I mean.” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Balin de Chaol Ghleann Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Balin was outside the temple in Bessimir, overseeing the construction. He was in a particular good mood as construction of the temple was going on schedule and soon the shack that it once was, would turn in a small but beautiful temple. He was already planning how to decorate it, to best represent his chosen god, the Wolf Lord. The temple itself was being built from a combination of stone and wood logs, giving it a rustic look, set near a backdrop of a great forest. Balin liked the rustic look as he wanted the temple to feel like it was a part of nature, as we all are. He wanted to be close to the woods where wolves often prowled, so he could hear their voices during his meditation hour. Visitors would also appreciate the beautiful howls of the wolves during service, he was sure of it. He was woken up from his musings by the gruff voice of a woman. He turned to face her and blinked a few times, gathering this thoughts. "Indeed I am. I'm glad you noticed the temple. It is not big yet, but one day, perhaps it will be." He thought a moment about the woman's question. "I am priest. I help people with their spiritual journey and help them be closer to their chosen god. The life of a Northman is harsh and full of danger, so we must be ever closer to our Gods if we want to persevere and survive." He drew a breath and continued. "The Savage Lord commands and makes the most deserving champions prosper. He is my chosen God, and the God that this temple is dedicated to." "But what brings you in this parts? And what name can I call you by?" Balin de Chaol Ghleann (Count of Bessimir, Priest of the Old Gods)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods "Big priest, big temple..." she gestures to Balin, "big ego?" The woman didn't wait for a reply. She just throws a brick underhand at Balin's chest and closes in. "Prove yourself 'champion', Wolf Lord's watching." Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Balin de Chaol Ghleann Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods As the brick flew from the woman's hand, Balin surprised as he was, didn't manage but gape at the woman and the audacity of having a brick thrown at him. The brick hit him square in the chest with a loud "THUCK", driving him back a few steps. An unexpected and strong hit. He rubbed at his chest with one arm, taking the measure of the woman with renewed interest. Who was this woman that would challenge him on the steps of his temple? But this was not a time to ponder and meditate. She was closing in fast. His chest hurt and that didn't happen often. He was indeed a stout man, though rather short, and had been in a good deal of scrapes in the past. Not often would a blow have such impact. No, this fight he would not take lightly. He regained his composure and positioned himself in a low guard, arms open, alike a wrestler might take and spoke in a low growl. "I accept your challenge. Let the Wolf Lord watch and delight himself in this." In the distance of the forest, a faint howl pierced through the noises of the day. Balin de Chaol Ghleann (Count of Bessimir, Priest of the Old Gods)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods As the brick connects, Nerta scuttles across the ground. "What did you say? Harsh and full of dangers, right?" Her movements precise, she balances on her hands as Balin staggers back and kicks the man's stomach while he rubs at his chest. "You remind me of someone." Springing into a pounce, Nerta hisses, "You both talk too much when there's fighting to be done. I wonder if you'll be as annoying..." Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Balin de Chaol Ghleann Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods The woman was quick, too quick. In the span that Balin took to recover from the brick, she was on him, kicking at his stomach. He spun and retaliated with a sweeping kick to her side, and so the fight began in earnest. Through the forest leaves, one could hear the rising wind, for it moaned and whistled, while branches off of the large trees crashed together as if drums were beaten to a secret rhythm known well to those denizens of the forest. If the birds up in the trees had looked down towards the temple, they would have seen a stound man, with a long braided red beard and a spiked mohawk, trading blows with a pale and terrifying woman, in a rhythmic back and forth, much like a dance, a wild and terrifying dance. Those birds would have heard loud hits reverberate through the forest, as fists connected with fleshy parts, and feet scraped loudly on the ground. They would have heard low growls and battle cries, taunts and jeers, as the two combatants were engrossed in raucous and chaotic dance, much as two wolves might in the deep of the forest. And those birds would have missed a great big wolf standing at the edge of the clearing, watching with focused eyes that burned like fire. Balin de Chaol Ghleann (Count of Bessimir, Priest of the Old Gods)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Balin’s kick sees Nerta miss her pounce and land beside the falling man. From there it becomes a scrabble in the dirt. With elbows and feet striking hard, while hands pull. As she fumbles for the brick, the spidery woman catches a blow across her jaw. It leaves her next smile as red as his hair, yet her hissing words hardly seem upset. “Good. You fight for real.” The wolf steps from the forest as she matches his bet, but the raise is cut short by the sound of something else. Something hungrier than a wolf…. “Zombies!” Chittering, Nerta pushes Balin away while corpses from the logging camp lurch toward the pair. Slavering for flesh, the first three break into a starved rush as Nerta climbs to her feet and reaches for the spear in the wheelbarrow. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Balin de Chaol Ghleann Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Balin wiped the blood from his face, as he looked in the direction the woman pointed at. "Zombies! Pah! They always ruin any fun I'm having", he muttered angrily to himself, as he started running towards the nearby table where many papers and construction plans laid scattered, and near which he had placed his large war-hammer and round iron shield. "Everyone, get back to town!", he shouted to the workers nearby, as he pushed them out of the way. It was a bad timing for an invasion as the armies of Thalmarkin were busy on the southern front, in a useless war over the pride of an Agyr queen. There would be no outside help today. Today, it would only be Balin and the strange woman, who had certainly impressed him with her skill and still did not know the name of, that would face the undead horde. It would certainly be a challenge, and Balin's smile widened at the thought of it. The Savage Lord often challenged his followers, and today Balin would revel in the challenge. As he picked up his war hammer and shield, he made a short prayer to the his God asking that this fight bring glory to the Wolf Lords name, then moved to where the woman was picking up her spear and reading for battle. Today he would be her shield wall, and she would bring death to the shambling bones that dared defy the laws of nature. Up high, in a nearby tree, a squirrel collected nuts for the winter. Had it looked down towards the temple, it would have noticed a horde of undead shambling closer, hatred of all that is living showing in their cold dead eyes, while commoners fled the construction site. Had it looked to the right, at the edge of the clearing, he would have noticed a large wolf out in the clear, looking on at a red headed stout man nearby a fierce looking pale woman, both readying their weapons in defiance of the incoming undead. It would have seen the wolf snarl in what looked almost like a grin of satisfaction. But the squirrel saw nothing, as it was busy collecting nuts, oblivious to what was to happen. Balin de Chaol Ghleann (Count of Bessimir, Priest of the Old Gods)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Balin's words are punctuated by a crack of bone as Nerta's spear swings through the lead shambler. Following through she pivots to kick the second before it can rakes her, and grabs the third on her way down, slamming it to the ground. "Don't worry Balin, we'll finish later." Nerta hisses in that strange voice as her spear pierces the skull of the prone figure. The net words come after a hard swallow and sound more normal, and amused. "Don't die." The pair of Guardians stand shoulder to shoulder as the scouts of the horde pour from the woods. This would be a grim harvest but the pair were outnumbered by the roving tide. Without aid, neither of them would see nightfall. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Balin de Chaol Ghleann Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Balin hefted his shield blocking an incoming bony arm, then smashed his war-hammer into the grotesque mass in front of him, hearing a satisfying *crack*. "Indeed, Wolf Lord willing, we shall bring death to the.." Balin's words falter for a second, "umm.. dead things". Balin cocked his head to one side thinking about what he just said, but was pulled quickly out of his revelry by the foul stench of the undead surrounding the two of them. He began to fight in earnest, blocking for the woman with this iron shield, and smashing bones and flesh that came too close with his warhammer, and while the pale woman expertly pierced through the heads of the undead, or out through their spine, dealing them an instant second death, the final death. The two warriors danced, in a crazed yet synchronized dance of death, dispatching the shambling masses, left and right. But as the dead fell, and the piles of bones and rotting flesh grew taller, more came to take their place. It was a fight to be remembered, a fight the bards would have written songs for and told stories by the hearth fires, but alas, there might not be anyone to remember it. The dead came and came and did not stop, while the man and woman fighting side by side felt the shield grow heavy, the spear pierce with less power, and the war-hammer rise slower with every blow. Yet, it was clear that the red haired stout man and pale ferocious woman would not stop, not until the air stopped flowing in their lung and their heart stopped pumping blood. It would not be long now. On one side of the battlefield, on a small hill, a gopher peered out with interested. But it did not look at the battle, nor to the undead. It peered at a large gray wolf mere paces from the hole the gopher called home, howling loudly towards the darkening evening sky. As it howled, it grew colder and colder still, and fine, powdery snow began to fall, covering the land with a white blanket. As the gopher watched, the keen wind carried the wolf's howls through the dark forest, and new howls responded, at first distant and few, but as the large wolf kept howling with insistence, the howls grew louder, and closer. As moments past, the baying of the wolves sounded nearer and nearer, as though they were closing from every side, soon joined by low and terrifying growls and snarls coming from just outside the clearing. The gopher ran back into its hole, a smart choice when apex predators come near, and so it could not see the rows of white fangs glistening in the fading sunlight, as saliva dripped from their snarling snouts. But as the gopher hid inside it's hole, it could still feel the earth trembling under many powerful paws, as scores of wolves moved as one towards a great battle unfolding near a small wooden temple, with an image of a Great Wolf carved above the open gate. Balin de Chaol Ghleann (Count of Bessimir, Priest of the Old Gods)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Nerta hadn't fought like this since Seven Rivers, when the dead had stretched to the horizon and only Bob had dared join in battle. Bob, Mielba and..... Jacinda. The memory earns the next zombie a vicious stab while claws scrabble at the shield and wolves howl. Jacinda, Mielba, Vankocuf .... Soren. Her spear falls as dead hands grab her from behind and Nerta is pulled from Balin's protective shadow. Suspended in the fetid embrace of three, her cloak finally opens and hands grab at the creatures around her, warding off their snapping jaws with a hiss of her own. "Shut up Old Man! I was distracted...." Nerta stabs one with a knife while claws rake across growing chitin and the horde presses Balin. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Soren Navaar Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Soren absently wondered who would mess with their own realm’s road signs. Instead of going home through Yipinalke from the tournament, he had gotten turned around and gone north during a bout of fog. A trick played by the Mist Walker if he had ever seen one. A sigh as he ran a hand through dark hair and looked up at the sky. I may as well keep going, he decided. Go the long way home, or turn around and risk trouble with more border guards. He had already hidden his livery and was passing through as a well armed bard. For the tournament, he had taken the spear on his back, and at his hip was his sword. Silence filled the air, as if something had stirred driving the wildlife away. Ignoring the signs, and bored by himself, he decided to hum and fill the empty air. Each note crept a little louder than the last, subtly at first, until Soren’s lips quirked into a smile and he started, singing as they rode along until his voice echoed over the land. They're rattling their rapiers And prancing in their livery They're howling at the gates again Hot time in the old town tonight Get yourself together And meet me ‘low the mezzanine We're gonna have a reckoning Hot time in the old town tonight Tonight, Tonight, We're gonna make it our own But we're gonna do it right Tonight, Tonight, We're gonna make it our own But we're gonna do it right... A couple of verses later, the song ended, and Soren felt more alive and ready for whatever lingered in the region. Unbeknownst to the singing bard, he was wandering ever closer to the source of the silence until the first signs of unlife made themselves known. Low groans and the sounds of grinding joints and cracking bones rippled across the air. The dead walk once more, he realized in time to see a one-armed creature shambling after something else. Checking to make sure nothing was lingering behind, the young bard readied his gear and let his horse go free as he started after the dead. His spear on his back now, and a hand on his sword, just in case. The call of the dead creatures grew louder, as he moved along. A lot more had gathered, and it looked as though they were advancing on some people. A village must be nearby, he determined and drew his sword. Soren’s blade, forged from an old daimon weapon during the fourth invasion, demanded attention as he drew it. The nearest undead immediately turned towards him. A clean swipe immediately took the head off of one of the creatures, and another cleaved through a second. Grinning. The man fell into song as began to cut a path toward the survivors. "This is our house, Are you ready for the fisticuffs, The fuss, the muss, the row, the fray? Hot time in the old town tonight." The first few dead dropped before they could do more than turn to him. The flat of his sword connected with one skeletal figure, knocking the skull free into the air like a ball until it landed somewhere near Nerta and Balin. Let’s show them how I won the tournament in Unger. Warmed up, he took a step back and switched to his spear. The dead would surround him long before he would reach them, and he needed the buffer. "This is our house, Take your medicine, And fly the fiddlin' back away, From whence you came, Hot time in the old town tonight." Soren’s spear skill was more like a staff with a sharp extension, as he bludgeoned and jabbed his way through, parting the dead within his defensive radius. "Tonight, Tonight, We're gonna make it our own, But we're gonna do it right. Tonight, Tonight, We're gonna make it our own, But we're gonna do it right." Balin and Nerta were finally in sight. Recognizing the priestess he wondered if he should thank the Emperor he had made it here until she was swarmed by the dead. The young count broke off his song with a roar as he pushed through the crowd of dead and drove a spear straight into one of Nerta's captors pinning it into the dirt. Using the weapon as a vault, he jumped and slammed feet first into another of her captors, and came back up from the ground with sword drawn. Flashing a grin at Nerta, the feeling of relief lighting up his face, as he pulled her free from the last creature and cut it down. "You had better not die on me, Nerta." Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods The bard's grin is repaid with a scowl as Nerta shoves him aside to assist Balin. "This is like Seven Rivers." A claw glancing off chitin, she sweeps the spear through the shamblers on the left flank of the crimson haired man. "There must be a commander. Someone working for the Sunken Kingdom.". Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Balin de Chaol Ghleann Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods This was a battle like no other that Balin had ever been in. The dead kept coming, and were overwhelming their skill with sheer numbers. Dead arms grabbed at him from every direction, while the woman was grappling with multiple shambling corpses, her spear on the ground. Balin knew he could not reach her in time. Perhaps the end had finally come. He felt a pity no one was there to watch it and write about the the glorious death these followers of the Old Gods would earn this day. Suddenly, a new voice joined the cacophony, and singing none-the-less. Just as he looked towards the direction the song could be heard, he saw a young noble with dark hair and grey piercing eyes, burst through the ranks of the foul creatures, smashing into the undead that were attacking the woman. Hope returned as the woman flung off the dead creatures pinning her down, and picked up her spear. He was momentarily stunned as he he heard the noble refer to the pale woman as Nerta - the leader of the church. A grin formed on his face. Of course! This would explain her prowess in battle and why she was here looking over the new temple in Bessimir. He was brought out of his thoughts as a fleshy dead fist missing a few fingers connected to his helmed head, bringing his focus back to the battle. He roared as he smashed the owner into the ground with his war hammer. Balin then heard Nerta mention an undead commander, and he looked to the left flank where she pointed. She was right, the shambling corpses had no faculties of their own, and only did the bidding of their commanders.As he looked closely to the left flank, he saw a figure up on a skeletal horse starring down at them with cold blue eyes. Hope rose in his chest. He pointed excitedly with his war-hammer and shouted, "Up there! On that horse!" But the momentary hope quickly faded as reality struck and he saw the rows upon rows of undead filling the space between their small party and the commander. Although there were three of them, he could not see an end to the dead and knew that even with the new noble joining in the fray, it would just be time before they all three fell. It was ironic that a bard should join this battle, the very person he wished was here to observe and write songs about this glorious death, yet he too would be fated to join them in the afterlife. He knew in his heard that they would not be able to make their way up where the commander stood unmoving, and pierced them with icy blue eyes filled with hatred. Balin spoke a short prayer, readied his weapon and prepared to die. Just as Balin roared defiantly, he was surprised to hear loud howls surrounding their little group, accompanied by low growls and snarls, and terrifying sounds of snapping of teeth, bones breaking and flesh being torn apart. He stood there stunned trying to understand what was happening. And as he stood there, he saw the undead part, as if a great sea was being separated into two, a path forming straight up towards the commander. He gaped in wonder at the widening path. From the top of the church, an small brown owl watched with interest as on the left flank of the great battle, large wolves with massive jaws and sharp teeth bit, smashed and tugged at the undead, pulling them apart, and forming what looked to be a path up the hill. The owl didn't understand what it was seeing, but it watched nonetheless for it had never seem such events before and likely it never will again. Balin de Chaol Ghleann (Count of Bessimir, Priest of the Old Gods)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Nerta’s spear slices through another shambler on Balin’s flank as the roaring man smashes a pair with shield and hammer. Breath steaming as the howl goes up from the woods, the woman cracks a grim smile. “I think you’re right Old Man, the Gods are watching.” Her grey cloak snaps as Nerta springs past Balin, and her spear swings through an arc to sweep a zombie into the waiting jaws of a wolf. “Come on! Time for a real fight!” As zombie guards are mauled by snarling wolves the imperious death knight pulls on the reins and lashes at the hounds of the Wolf Lord. His skeletal steed rears up to display the standard of the Dread Necromancer, before thundering down the growing corridor. As the death knight closes those baleful blue eyes flicker to witchfire green and the black blade ignites. “ALDO! Necromancer!”  The galloping horse seems to move beyond the font of power as something drags away the greenish glow. Hunting for its master, the death knight twists around as Nerta first springs off a falling zombie, and then the back of the wolf biting it.  Like a thunderbolt, Nerta's lance pierces plate and unseats the thing. But the champion felt no pain and the black blade flashes even as they fall. Nerta catches the blow with a hand but the death knight is too strong and blood bubbles between chitin as the pair crash to the ground.  Nerta screams as the thing tears the blade free for another swing. Abandoning the spear, she leaps back as the blade slices through her cloak instead of her side. Cradling an arm she draws knives as the shadow of the death knight rises and blood splashes in the dirt. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Soren Navaar Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Soren snatched up his spear in the ensuing chaos and returned it to his back. The hammer swinging man seemed to have things back under control as Soren cut down a few more dead nearby. Cursed Emperor he thought to himself once more as he deflected a hand axe and sliced through another creature. Nerta had already gone springing ahead. Trusting her to do what she needed to, he continued to hack away at the risen dead as they broke free from the wolves. He was trying to help two people at once, and it split his attention. A fist collided with his side, knocking the air from his lungs as he turned and cut down the dead creature. It was only a matter of time before the divided attention got him killed. He knew he should just go back and help the other person clear up the dead. The plan broke off before he had even taken a step back as Nerta screamed. Without a second thought, the bard rushed in her direction, cutting through a pair of skeletal creatures as he ran to stand beside her. She looked to be injured, but still ready to fight. That's just like her, he thought to himself. Leveling his blade at the death knight, he growled and prepared to fight. "Let's see how you like daimon steel, you bastard!" The sword he pointed at the creature was passed down from the fourth invasion, a weapon taken from a daimon during the fall of Heen, and it gave off the feeling that it was exactly that. "Nerta, just tell me what you need me to do," he grunted as he blocked the death knight's weapon, and then deflected it away. Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)
Roleplay from Balin de Chaol Ghleann Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Balin recovered quickly from his momentary awe at the path the wolves had created towards the undead commander. Nerta was right, the Old Gods were indeed watching. He saw Nerta rush by him and charge the death knight, and with a loud bellow rushed in after her. He saw her spear pierce deep into the Knight throwing him off of his rotting steed. He rushed in at the knight, trying to take his focus away from the pale woman, as she leapt backwards, trying to dodge the undead's blades that had already bit deeply into her arm. He ran at the scourge, dropping his shield and holding his war-hammer with two hands, while roaring a defiant challenge. He didn't stop as the undead knight lifted his large swords and sliced at his head aiming to cleave it off in one swoop. Though Balin's short stature had in the past been joked about, today it proved an asset as the large undead simply wasn't used to hitting targets so close to the ground. At the last moment, Balin slid on his knees right under the whistling swords, and came up around the side of the undead warrior, swinging his warhammer in a large arc and smashing it straight into the back of the creature. The blow was so powerful that it knocked the undead onto his knees and arms, stunning it momentarily. And yet, it was not vanquished. Balin knew that it would take three to slay such a powerful creature, and he was off balance trying to regain his footing as well. He would not recover in time for another blow. The creature was already shaking off the stun and was trying to crawl back on it's feet. Nerta's spear and Balin's warhammer had weakened it greatly, and it was in a vulnerable state, a sliver of the back of his neck open to the sky, while his rotting head was still facing downwards, visible in between the heavy armor and helmet that it was wearing. Balin looked towards Soren and hoped he would see the opening in time to act. Balin de Chaol Ghleann (Count of Bessimir, Priest of the Old Gods)
Roleplay from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Nerta stands in the shadow of the leering skull as the black blade rises for another swing. Armed with only a knife, she prepares to dodge the looming death, but crashes into the Crystal-Cursed bard. Eyes wide and wild while Balin barks his challenge, Nerta lets out a hissing chitter. “By all the Gods!” As the warhammer crushes the death knight like an avalanche, Nerta shoves Soren toward the toppling giant. “We don't have time to be fancy. Just hit the thing!” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Roleplay from Soren Navaar Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Soren stumbled forward and readied his weapon. "Sorry for thinking there might be an actual plan!" Stalking forward another step, the young knight took on a different demeanor. Years of training drilled into his skull from a young age took over and he side stepped the tumbling creature, bringing the blade down on its back. The ground felt the force of the impact as the creature hit. Not letting up, Soren had already looped his blade around, picking up momentum, and brought it down on the creature's skull, cleaving through helm and head alike. The ethereal blue light that gave the creature life sputtered before them like a candle buffeted in the wind. A wretched screech rang out from the creature, and around them numerous dead began faltering in response. As their flames guttered out, corpses quickly littered the earth, and the will-o'-wisp grew brighter, the flame steadying as it drew power from its subordinates. Soren brought the blade up once more and drove it through the creature's armor, praying the metal would disrupt the flame's regeneration. Another deafening screech cut through the air, the death knight struggled to get up, failing to even get to its knees with the blade in its back. As it fell back down, the blue light dimmed, faded... The banshee's howl that came next pushed Soren back as the flame scattered into the air. The creature's final death throes sending a cold, clammy shock wave through the area, and then, at last, silence from the thing. Soren wrenched the blade free and looked between the two. "Do we hunt the master next?" he asked, referring to the Necromancer, and glancing at the wolves finishing the job behind them. Soren Navaar (Count of Seven Rivers)
Roleplay from Balin de Chaol Ghleann Message sent to Everyone in the Old Gods Balin watched with satisfaction as the green light faded from the undead commander's eyes. Soren's blow had hit it's mark true. A deadly spear, an expertly weighted war-hammer and a razor-sharp blade was what it took to fell the death knight. This would be a battle bards would write songs about for years to come. A lucky thing then, that the wielder of the sword just happened to be a bard. As Balin looked around he noticed that the remaining undead now stood aimless and without purpose, without a commander to instill its will into them. The wolves were making short work of remaining undead, soon after retreating into the forest. Against all odds, the battle had been won. He took a deep breath relishing the crisp air, the life that still hung to his body, placed his warhammer at his back, and turned his attention on his companions. Noticing the blood on Nerta's hard he came closer to her, and clapped her friendly on the back. "Nerta! We live and breath! I suppose the Old Gods still have need of us." His shoulders shook as he laughed merrily. "Do ya need some help bandaging that wound?" Had Balin looked up towards the edge of the clearing, where the forest meets green grass, he might have noticed a large grey wolf, with deep piercing eyes, watching the battle end, his snarl looking almost like a grin of satisfaction. He might have seen the wolf bob his head as if in a nod, before turning away and disappearing into the great forest of Bessimir. Balin de Chaol Ghleann (Count of Bessimir, Priest of the Old Gods)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Personal letter to Dancer Rea As the champion crumbles to dust, Nerta's Graft fades with a shuddering twist of pain. Chitin gone, blood flows and Balin’s friendly hand sends Nerta staggering. “I’ll need bandages and alcohol. The thing hit harder than you.” Adrenaline wearing off, Nerta almost collapses to the ground cradling her arm. But she nods to the great wolf on the edge of the forest. “I think we can say the Gods are pleased and if so, who am I to say otherwise? Welcome Guardian Balin. May your hammer always be ready.” Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Vel's Tale
Letter from Vel the Explorer Message sent to Everyone in the Agyrian Academy Greetings, Hello everyone!, I was just passing by in Firbalt before I saw the guild hall and decided to join. I look forward to the correspondence's and the story telling. Signed Vel the Explorer (Adventurer)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in the Agyrian Academy Hello Vel, Happy to have you though things have quieted some ever since the Temple was founded. What sort of things are you interested in learning about, or studying? Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Vel the Explorer Message sent to Everyone in the Agyrian Academy Lady Nerta, Right now I am doing a tour of the major cities of the lands and the various realms. I have found that Firbalt is beautiful with the many verity of flower that can be found there! Any information you can have of the others would be most pleasing, I was hoping to head to Reven next to see what the remolding the new ruler accomplished though I wouldn't mind taking a detour if you are willing so i can explore your region with more than a outside look. (( rp opprunity)) Signed Vel the Explorer (Adventurer)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Everyone in the Agyrian Academy I'd actually considered a tour of the land myself once. I had been heading down to Firbalt to bring some books from the main Agyr campus. Turned into an ill fated expedition thanks to the mess in Keffa. You're certainly welcome to come up here, though I don't really have a home either. Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)
Letter from Nerta the Weaver Message sent to Personal letter to Dancer Rea Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)