[centre][h2]Aching Conscious; Homeward Bound[/h2][/centre]

[sub]Scawick, summer of 30AA...[/sub]

Burud and Murtagh had walked homewards largely in silence. Many times, Burud had tried to convince his companion that their victory was a great one - that Ha-Dûna had been wounded in a way that no other enemy of theirs had wounded them before; however, Murtagh had never answered him - in fact, he hadn’t said a single word since that fateful day. Eventually, Burud had lost interest, and the two had slept under the stars with contentious distance between their bed rolls, their once-powerful brotherhood breaking into smaller and smaller pieces by the day. By the time they could see the village, they weren’t walking beside one another anymore - in fact, Burud had a fifteen minute lead. He lifted his hands over his head upon seeing the village people, shouting from the top of his lungs, 

“I’m HOME, Scawick! We did it! We triumphed!”

Scawick for the most part looked much like it had when Burud and Murtagh had left… through there were some rather noticeable differences. What had been a small blacksmithing forge just large enough to handle the odd piece of metal work that had to be done had clearly been expanded, alongside the construction of what seemed to be a second forge.

The addition of this change would be easy to see as the guard that met Burud was wearing a set of armor made out of an unknown greyish metal that covered their chest that looked almost like fish scales in design. He even had a spear in hand tipped with a point made of the same grey metal. In fact, having a closer look around would reveal plenty of examples of tools made of the strange substance being carried and used for a variety of tasks by many of his fellow villagers.

The guard boy, young Ragni, beamed at Burud as he stood to attention. “Burud! Where have you been?! So much has happened lately and…” He paused for a moment as he looked around in slight concern as he asked “Where’s Murtagh? I thought you were traveling together.”

“Where’s Murtagh?!” shouted Burud. “I’m more interested in what’s happened here! Did I take a wrong turn somewhere?” He eyed Ragni up and down, the outfit clearly impressing him deeply. “My, oh my, did a trading caravan from the south come and gift you all this precious metal? What in the gods’ name…” He reached out and gently tried to squeeze at his studded leather shoulderpad.

Ragni seemed to be infused with a mixture of pride and slight embarrassment at having the older man squeezing his shoulder to test the leather out. “Oh no! No traders! After you and Murtagh left, Master Hamaar arrived as a messenger of Droka, the craftsdragon and master of metal! Hamaar took the blacksmiths, their students and a bunch of other students from those who hadn’t quite found their calling yet and taught them all how to work Iron!” There was actually a bit more pride and excitement in his voice as he tapped his chest. “That’s what this stuff is. We’re the first people in Westfold and beyond to be taught how to work it!”

The excitement… faded slightly as Ragni noticed something off. Namely, he finally looked at Burud’s hands… and noticed the lack of a finger. “What happened to your hand?” He asked, his excitement prior making the graveness in his tone all the easier to hear in contrast.  

The older man eyed his hand briefly and hid it behind his back. “Oh, never mind that. How long’ve you got left of your shift? I’ve been missing aunt Leitha’s oat and onion porridge. Meet me there when you can!” He clapped him supportively on the shoulder and began walking away.

“Oh, I’ve got a little while to go yet.” Ragni answered, trying to get some of that pep back into his voice but… there clearly being something weighing on his mind as he watched Burud walk away. He didn’t leave his post or alert anyone to his private thoughts just yet through; After all, the message from Droka and the blacksmiths had been clear that there was a pair of people who would arrive in Scawick, not a singular man. So it couldn’t have been Burud, right?

Merely five minutes later, another figure appeared on the horizon - visibly ragged and beaten by weeks of sleeping in nature. His hair and beard were rough and unkempt, and his every step seemed to stagger him. 

Ragni had still been at his post, so he clearly saw the figure approaching. It took a few moments to figure out exactly who it was, but figuring that with Burud having recently returned he could take a guess that this was “Murtagh? You look terrible.” Leaving his post in order to walk up to the staggered man, he wordlessly tried to slide himself under one of the larger man’s arms to help steady him. 

The man looked up at him with dead eyes. Then, wordlessly, he started crying, collapsing forward and landing at Ragni’s feet, weeping into the ground while grabbing weakly at his ankles.

Looking down at the larger man, Ragni was completely confused… before his gaze fell on Murtagh’s hands. A finger was missing… and a chill went down his spine. It was a harsh thing to witness, as the message from Droka had come true and the meaning behind it was clear to see but… this was not the actions of a man who had done such a vile act as Droka had shared willingly. 

Gulping heavily, feeling the need to confirm his deepest fears, Ragni softly asked “Murtagh… what did you and Burud do?”

“Please…” he wept. “Please forgive us…” He lifted his hands in surrender, and surely enough, the right ring finger was missing. “Forgive us…”

………………………………………………….

The Hammers of the Dragon had been expecting resistance when the men called out by Droka had arrived. This was not the case. Murtagh proved easy enough to bring before them without complaint or issue. Burud’s presence was also easy to get, if only because they had politely asked him to come so they could hear about his adventures and they could let him know about what changes in the village of Scawick had happened in his absence. 

The two men were not kept in the same room, with Murtagh being offered the room that Hamaar had been using during his stay while the Hammers had decided that the best place to question Burud was in his own home. They did not let on that they were questioning Burud about anything beyond his trip; The remorse that Murtagh had clearly expressed over their actions had tempered the anger that had been created by the original revelation of their sins, and thus the Hammers had quietly agreed to let Burud have the same chance to come clean and express remorse. 

So with a flask of beer offered to the ‘returning hero’, Annul and Rigna took their seats at the table as Rigna asked “So what was this triumph you were boosting about when you arrived? We had to have a healer look Murtagh over when he arrived because he looked pretty out of sorts.”   

“He lacks resolve, is all,” mumbled Burud and accepted the flask and gave it a sip. He collected his hands around its neck and leaned forward onto elbows. “He’s been like this for a few weeks, letting himself be eaten by guilt over something no man should ever feel guilty for.”

Annul had always been a large boy and had grown into a large man, but when Burud had left he had still been an apprentice rather than a fully recognized blacksmith in his own right. His hair covered arms shifted slightly as he moved to make himself a bit more comfortable with his elbows on the table, a mug of beer resting for a moment as he asked “And what would that be exactly?”

Burud gave him a stern look. “Vengeance, my boy; making them pay for what they did to us, for all they’ve done to us.” He sipped the bottle again. “Murtagh couldn’t see further than the tip of his own nose, and now he’s lost as he tries to escape what he did rather than accept it.” He flexed his missing finger. “This, my boy - this was the cost of revenge for our mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters who all died that winter after the filthy Dunnies sacked our home. A small price.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence from Annul and Rigna… until at last Rigna cleared his throat and pointed out rather pointedly, with a small degree of heat in his tone “You seem rather evasive as to what exactly it is you both did… and why it cost you both a finger. What did you do Burud?”

Clicking his tongue, Burud took another sip. “Have you two ever heard of Resla the Gray?”

Rigan glanced at Annul for a moment… before answering in a somewhat vague manner “I’ve heard stories… old tales.” and letting Burud continue.

“Yeah, you probably have. They’re all true - I know that now after having found her and met her… The natives in this area telling of the time she gave ancient chiefs terrible plagues or made parasites infest the game and wildlife to no one could eat - it’s all real. So we asked her to curse that most evil bitch, the Leoness… And by the gods, did she deliver.” He chuckled coldly and had yet another sip.

There was a moment. As Burud chuckled and drank where Annul and Rigan looked at each other again in silence. If Burud bothered to listen, he would have heard the creaking as Rigan’s grip on his mug tightened. Rigan had clearly heard enough as the words he spoke next were infused with a cold, seething fury. “And all your revenge cost you was a young boy and Scawick’s future.”

“Scawick’s future? We -saved- Scawick!” The man grit his teeth and smashed the flask to the floor, shards flying everywhere. “We were the ONLY ones who dared take the fight to them! They have never been weaker, yet none of you pussies dared stand up to them, because you are COWARDS! All of you!”

Rigan didn’t slam a fist against the table, or break his mug… or do anything he had instinctively wanted to do to express the anger that had bubbled up from his soul that was competing with the feelings of disgust trying to force its way up his throat. Instead his grip on the mug tightened to the point where the wood splittered and cracked, but his voice remained icy in its contempt. 

“Droka spoke about what you did, Burud. Hamaar told us how you spilled innocent blood to summon a demon into this world. How you turned the Leoness into an inhuman creature of pain and suffering that will haunt the Westfold for generations to come… and how if we did not act to deal with what you have summoned, it will come here and destroy Scawick as readily as it would the warmongers of Ha-Dûna!”

Breathing deeply through his nose, he sneered as he ignored the blood dripping from his fingers. “Droka decided to give us a chance to avert the fate you and that [i]witch[/i]-” The word was spat “- have tried to force upon us. You’re key to doing so.”

Burud spat back and rose from his seat. “What, all of you forget the meaning of sacrifice? Did you grow soft in my absence?” He lifts both hands into a guard and bit his teeth together. “If you’re gonna have me killed, then you’re gonna have to work for it.”

“What good is taking vengeance for those who died due to Ha-Dûna’s actions if it kills everyone you cared about?!” Rigan spat back, raising onto his own two feet as Annul slowly did the same. The look in Rigan’s eyes hardened as he gazed at Burud, but there… was still a hint of mercy within them. After all, just because his opinion of the man had been drowned in mud didn’t mean all he had done had been wiped clean.

“We’re not going to kill you Burud. What we need is your blood. You brought this demon wearing the Leoness’ skin into this world by spilling innocent blood, only weapons infused with your blood will cast it back to whence it came. If you give any damn about Scawick at all, you’ll help us undo your mistake… before it consumes us all.”

Annul watched the exchange for a moment… before he decided to speak in a somewhat more calm tone. “For what it’s worth Burud, regardless of if we kill her or not… the Leoness is dead. All we’re doing now is killing something that looks vaguely like her before it reaches our homes… and Droka promised us a boon for putting her down.” 

Slowly, but surely, Burud lowered his fists slightly. He still appeared jumpy, but a shadow of defeat filled his face more and more by the second. Eventually, he dropped his arms down at his sides, his breath becoming like shivering branches on a winter night. “... I… I just needed one triumph… It’s just not fair. It’s just… Not fair…” Sobs choked him up and he slapped a palm over his eyes. “Gods, what have I done…”

The anger that had been building up in Rigna faded away as Burud started crying. It was easy to be enraged by a man who was celebrating the vile deeds he had committed while being uncaring of the consequences, but now that the barrier had broken and the full weight of what he had done had finally hit him, the rage departed. 

As Annul walked around the table to offer a comforting hand on Burud’s shoulder, Rigna decided to speak up and offer… something on a peace offering to a broken man. “I… I know it’s not much but… there was some debate about what was going to happen after the demon was slain. A lot of people were discussing exiling the guilty parties but… If you want, I think I might have an alternative. Let you and Murtagh have the first chance of fighting and killing the thing. We were already planning on producing weapons able to slay it so… a couple more isn’t going to be a tall order.” 

“It’s your call. I’m happy to let you think about it before I bring it up with everyone else. It is your life after all.”

“Hah, would that be right?” Burud sniffed and swallowed, lowering his palm to reveal flooding, red eyes. He pulled the snot from his nose and cleared his throat. “No… No, we don’t deserve to go after it - I don’t deserve it. Murtagh is a broken man because of me, and I will not go into the afterlife to be with my ancestors even if I should die fighting this creature I summoned. Find me a cell - take my blood as you need it and find me a cell, so I can rot there until I am to be banished or killed for my crimes.” He sank back down in his seat. “I don’t deserve to die in battle.”

There was… a brief look of disappointment, but Rigna would respect Burud’s wish. He might still run the idea by Murtagh to see how he responded but… only time would tell. “...I’ll give you some time to think about it. Ask again when we’ve got some equipment together and we’re better prepared to head out.” Because as much trouble as Burud had likely brought into the world… it was hard to condemn a man who had once been a leading figure in Scawick. 

[hider=Sumsum!]
Burud and Murtagh come home separately ‘cuz the journey left them kinda split and angry at one another. First comes Burud - he greets gateguard Ragni with a big hi and mires his fancy iron armour. Ragni kinda flattered, but then notices Burud’s finger. He asks and Burud dodges the question, going on and on about their victory as he leaves to get some porridge. 

Then comes Murtagh, who’s a broken man and immediately crumbles down crying at Ragni’s feet upon seeing him.

Cut skip to Annul and Rigna, two smiths, interrogating Burud after Murtagh snitched. They offer him beer and Burud says he did it for that sweet vengeance. Annul and Rigna accuse him of endangering all of Scawick, and Burud gets threateningly violent for a while. Then they talk some sense into him and he, too, breaks down after realising what he done. Feeling sympathy with him, Annul offers him a chance to redeem himself somewhat by helping take Demon Hilda down. Burud refuses and says he ain’t worthy of dying in combat. Rigna is disappoint and they leave Burud alone. The end.
[/hider]

[hider=Press Teej]
Hammers 4 + 5 = 9.
[/hider]