The marshes of Sudenúr often made travel off the few main roads slow and tiring for Glen. It was part of the reason this March had been so difficult to control over the years. Several of his knights had urged Silbermine to use caution. It was much safer to take the long way round past Ertiseda; they could not protect their lord if they were shoulder deep in muck. Silbermine took no mind and ordered them through the swamps - he HAD to see this fallen empyrean body for himself. He felt a divine connection had been forged in that fiery moment when it roared over their heads and did not smite them.

So they had hiked in single file through languid pools and over fetid mounds, camping for two nights at some of the run-down family compounds that dotted the March. Sudenúr was relatively flat in the middle, so by the second day even the Glen’s relatively wide-angle eyesight could pick up a smouldering wreck on the foothills in the distance. Silbermine spurred them on, faster and faster until they got stuck in quickmud. Through a titanic team effort they got free, though another load bearer was lost and never found.

There were some accusatory glances around the campfire that night, so Silbermine judged they needed a reminder of the gravity of their quest.

“Brothers, these are hard times. Failed crops, pestilence, teeming hordes of demons in the dark at night. But let us not forget…Venurwreth’s Scripts tell of gifts falling from the heavens unto worthy Glenfolk on the cusp of greatness. The Running is nigh, and the time of House Silbermine has come again!”

Gesith continued on, speaking with the ardent conviction of a true believer. By the end, he was practically shouting into the crisp night air as embers from the fire floated up into the air. His knights and servants rose to their hooves and bayed wildly, eventually galloping in an instinctive circle around the camp with Silbermine, chanting the songs of their forefathers. 

Fueled by the herd-fervour that Glen leaders had been putting to good use since the S’tor invaded, Silbermine’s group packed up camp before dawn to cross the final stretch to the crash. The load bearers washed the knights before securing their plate armour. Standards were attached to polearms that most of the knights held upright as they marched. They then fitted Silbermine with ornate barding that sported the red, white and yellow designs of his House. To top it off, they opened up his father’s helmet and carefully secured it around his head.

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WRHo5muDzbk]A dense fog[/url] had rolled in off lake Núr overnight, so Silbermine had his force mage lead the way. Using both hands to gesture, they forced the fog back to create a narrow channel. The swirling, roiling fog disturbance was clearly visible from the air, but that mattered not to Silbermine.

He galloped in the middle of his retinue with his eyes fixed forward, searching the soupy mix for any sign of the thing that had fallen from the sky. It seemed that over time, the heavy impact of their hooves on the ground merged into one continuous drum beat. The muscly legs of the Glen clattered in slow motion as the nobleman pondered what they might find.

As the first light of dawn probed through the fog, Silbermine felt the ground firm up. They were exiting the marshes and approaching the foothills on the border with the Ascendancy. He urged them on a final time, and the Glen formed up around him. Three knights and nine Glen-at-arms around their leader, plus ten warrior servants bringing up the rear.

Suddenly, the fog lessened. There it was.

Before them was a long and rocky incline, studded with violent divots where some vast bulk had scraped and rolled up it. Big shards of metal stood like small trees leading up to his prize - the fallen star. An enormous hulk with stubby wings sticking out from three corners. On the side, what looked like a Glen with a bow and arrow was painted in light blue. Some ancient lettering was scrawled written underneath. The Scripts were true! 

Smoke still rose into the air around his gift; Silbermine’s keen nose picked up an acrid stench he couldn’t place. Something else too… 

“Tekeri, my lord, and Glen.” one of the knights muttered as they approached.

Silbermine ground his tombstone teeth together. Someone had beaten them to it. “Sound the horn.” Silbermine ordered.

The Glen liked horns. Some old houses had created a range of unique sounds for their group that served different purposes. The House horn was meant to serve as an announcement of their presence.

The knight unclipped one of three horns from his harness and blew strenuously into it. Their group cantered forwards, climbing up the hill towards the ship. Silbermine’s eyes weren’t great, but eventually she made out a host of figures on the ridge in front of the star.

They stopped about a hundred metres away and spread out now they were on more solid ground. All of them were tense and ready to bolt if any on the ridge appeared to nock an arrow. The most senior of the knights present, Falgar Sweven, trotted forward a bit further and boomed in a stentorian voice:

“Greetings! We have come to claim this fallen star under the banner of House Silbermine. May we have safe passage?”