Muttonhawk Member
Let Slip the Corgis of War
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Dear Mr Curly,
I have done little travelling lately because I have been so dreadfully weary. Can it be true as the old Ecclesiastes said; that all things lead to weariness? Surely not. Perhaps the opposite is true: that all nothings lead to weariness. I have a peculiar feeling, Curly, that I am worn out from something I haven't yet done and the more I don't do it, the more exhausted I become. How strange. Could it be something I haven't realised? Perhaps it's something I haven't said? Something I haven't finished! It must be very large and true whatever it is and a lively struggle in the doing but I look forward to it immensely. I know I need it. First, however, I must curl up in my chair and sleep deeply with the duck. Perhaps I'll dream of this thing and wake up refreshed and do it. My fond wishes to you Mr. Curly, and to all Curly Flat.
Yours sleepily,
Vasco Pyjama
xxx
P.S. Not having breakfast can make you weary. That's for sure!
Most Recent Posts
They're avatars, so to an extent, yes. What exactly they see probably won't matter all that much.
@Antarctic Termite You know what? I'm going to leave the date between Majus and Tauga in your hands. I've done enough shipwrighting for this month.
@Kho Ohohohh...
...ohoho...
...Mno, it would be.
@Kho Ohohohh...
...ohoho...
...Mno, it would be.
Someone should stick Minus and Heartworm on a date already
"What is it that you do in your spare time?"
"Not much. Speak tersely to myself. Mutilate things and record the results."
"Oh. I mutilate things sometimes."
"Commonalities."
"..."
"You rarely initiate subjects. Few in memory."
"Correct. The reasons are inconsequential."
"I need an assistant. A hain needs to be traumatised. Importance science. It may be an bonding experience. I feel a bond with you. Not emotional. Needs more science first. Want in?"
"Only if I get to dance with the corpse."
"You are strange."
"No, you."
*Mutual monotonous giggling*
"Of course," Sabine said with a nod to Meesei. While she walked with the werebears that were leading Meesei into the cave, but looked over her shoulder to speak kindly, even after the recent killing. "Janius? Could you tie them up, please?"
Janius lifted the unsettling visage that was his visor to reveal his far more appealing, if sweaty, face. "Sure thing, Sabine." He dropped his axe through a loop on his belt and got to work. Rope was always useful in the mountains; there was no shortage of it to bind the prisoners.
Half of Fendros' mouth opened into an amused grin at Ahnasha. He spoke as he squat down to pull out one of his arrows. "In our last ambush, Ahna, there wasn't a pack of werebears stealing my marks." He yanked the arrow out, turned it in his hand and used the bloody point to gesture at Ahnasha. "Even if I were getting slow, at least I didn't raise the alarm too early, like a certain wife I know the ambush before last." Fendros squat down again to rifle through the equipment on the body. He wasn't going to let Ahnasha live down her occasional mistakes either.
"Oh," Fendros realised. His tone lost its humour for a moment. "The, uh...special arrow worked. That's the last of mine filled."
Janius lifted the unsettling visage that was his visor to reveal his far more appealing, if sweaty, face. "Sure thing, Sabine." He dropped his axe through a loop on his belt and got to work. Rope was always useful in the mountains; there was no shortage of it to bind the prisoners.
Half of Fendros' mouth opened into an amused grin at Ahnasha. He spoke as he squat down to pull out one of his arrows. "In our last ambush, Ahna, there wasn't a pack of werebears stealing my marks." He yanked the arrow out, turned it in his hand and used the bloody point to gesture at Ahnasha. "Even if I were getting slow, at least I didn't raise the alarm too early, like a certain wife I know the ambush before last." Fendros squat down again to rifle through the equipment on the body. He wasn't going to let Ahnasha live down her occasional mistakes either.
"Oh," Fendros realised. His tone lost its humour for a moment. "The, uh...special arrow worked. That's the last of mine filled."
The pack's impression upon the forces surrounding the cave were that of a terrifying, unstoppable force. The three figures in golden armour did not stop moving forward and striking their enemies down. The mages shot through their defences as if they were nothing. Shadows through the mist were shooting them down no matter where their shields faced. Finally, their fallen comrades turned against them from behind their ranks. There was no hope for the commanders to organise their subordinates, despite their shouting to stand fast.
When the werebears struck out from the cave, the enemy broke. Some dropped their weapons as they sprinted off. Others tripped up on the rocky terrain and were mauled by werebears, and the last -- who thought they could live -- were silently shot in the back or run down.
The skirmish was over within another minute.
Those that thought they could take their chances by surrendering had Sabine stride up to them in her light armour and press a spell onto their foreheads, rendering them unconscious as they were gathered up.
When the dust had settled, Sabine charged a spell and raised it into the air with both her hands. As it discharged, a whirlwind blew and dispersed the mist she had created. Or, at least what was left after Meesei had charged it with lightning and vaporised most of it. The clear air revealed Fendros approaching at a brisk walk with his bow nocked with an arrow in his hands. The chitin armour made him look like some kind of humanoid insect.
"I counted them as they ran, we have them all," Fendros announced.
When the werebears struck out from the cave, the enemy broke. Some dropped their weapons as they sprinted off. Others tripped up on the rocky terrain and were mauled by werebears, and the last -- who thought they could live -- were silently shot in the back or run down.
The skirmish was over within another minute.
Those that thought they could take their chances by surrendering had Sabine stride up to them in her light armour and press a spell onto their foreheads, rendering them unconscious as they were gathered up.
When the dust had settled, Sabine charged a spell and raised it into the air with both her hands. As it discharged, a whirlwind blew and dispersed the mist she had created. Or, at least what was left after Meesei had charged it with lightning and vaporised most of it. The clear air revealed Fendros approaching at a brisk walk with his bow nocked with an arrow in his hands. The chitin armour made him look like some kind of humanoid insect.
"I counted them as they ran, we have them all," Fendros announced.
Well, it's only a short post now. Took me about a month to actually sit down and start it. All I needed was a period of time where I couldn't to any work because the person I'm meant to be meeting about pivotal information is indisposed until Monday.
I guess that means that I finally made a post without needing procrastination to motivate myself. Happy times.
I apologise in advance if either the song goes on too long (thus crudding up the tone of the following scene), and/or for the obnoxious stereotypical Scottish dwarven accents. There's not a lot of development in Galbar's dwarves and I didn't want to hijack them too much.
I guess that means that I finally made a post without needing procrastination to motivate myself. Happy times.
I apologise in advance if either the song goes on too long (thus crudding up the tone of the following scene), and/or for the obnoxious stereotypical Scottish dwarven accents. There's not a lot of development in Galbar's dwarves and I didn't want to hijack them too much.
The demigods can be watched with the birds, Minus. It is time you returned to Cornerstone.
...
Is there something preventing you from returning?
The work was never done in the home of the dwarves. They thrived on it. Every day, there were hard metallic strikes pinging and pinging in a rhythm against the walls. More space for the growing population.
The familiar ring of picks sang out even in the ever-crowded, ever-burbling expanse of the communal dining hall. Rows of stone tables flanked by stone thrones seated carousing dwarves of all shapes and disciplines. They always drank -- it was a paradox of their physiology that the fungal ale they brewed was what kept them focussed and healthy. That did not preclude them from slurred speech, giddy personalities, and the occasional wrestle.
Granted, too much ale would still render them intoxicated. Albeit, far more than what would kill most other living creatures.
The routine repeats.
One dwarf lass with straight black hair sat half-asleep with her chin in her hands, leaning her elbows on one of the tables. She had been carving stone all day; tools and furniture, mostly. Her fair-skinned hands were delicate as dwarves go, but the others saw her as a symptom of being blessed by the leaders -- the demigods. After all, none could quite shape stone so precisely as her. She was well sought after in the home.
"Oi, Mafie Snowhands!" One of the dwarf men called out to the lass from down the table. "Ye look as'f you 'bout to fall dead! Come and 'ave a drink and I'll beat ye shapely backside easy in a contest! That'll have ye lookin' lively!"
Mafie opened her eyes and cast the man and his group of friends a sly smile. Contests of the liver were something of a matter of pride amongst the stocky dwarves. When Mafie won her first contest without so much as swaying, she had since upheld a high standing as a strong drinker, even above most men in the mountain. None had yet expressed suspicion when she only afterwards began to show weakness in such contests.
"Yer the big chug-dwarf under the mountain, now, aren't ye Asmel?" Mafie said, lowering her hands flat on the table and grinning. "Champion? Aye, yer riskin' big pride thinkin' ye can pu' me under the table!"
"Och! That'd be easy." Asmel's teeth glinted from behind his lush orange beard. "We play fer wagers," he growled and stabbed a finger at his wide chest. "I wun, and you be me wife."
Mafie's widening smile and narrowing eyes looked Asmel up and down as her head slowly tilted. There were few enough things to bet under the mountain. Courtship was becoming a popular alternative in the medium of gambling. "What if I wun, you clevur git?"
Asmel extended a hand upwards and nodded. "Name yer price, snowflaeke." His words held a mocking congeniality.
A haunting laugh permeated the hall, causing the chatter immediately surrounding to fade. Mafie breathed and continued to laugh as she stood up onto the table and spread her arms. "That were yer first mistaeke, Asmel." She walked with long strides, landing her feet between the plates and steins without looking, despite apparently using her arms to keep her balance. When Mafie reached the seat opposite Asmel, she leapt and twisted in the air, landing on the stone throne with a fabric thud. The winter clothing was good for cushioning falls.
"How about I choose what I make you do after I wun?" Mafie said over her poked out bottom lip. She leant her forearm against the table, leaning forward at Asmel's widening eyes.
Everyone was watching. Waiting. No one had been able to win Mafie into marrying them before. This would be the fifth attempt.
"Done." Asmel slammed his favourite mug onto the table between them.
Mafie leant back to unbuckle the mug on her belt and slammed it down in turn. "Then yer on, bear shite!"
There is one more lead of investigation I must follow regarding the demigods. It will not take longer than thirty-six hours.
Act as you see fit. Update me after thirty-six hours or earlier and then return to Cornerstone.
"Igan...I-gan-'ave anoder..."
"Asmel. Asmel?"
He reached up and realised he was against a wall. "Gemme'up. Igan Still drink!"
"Gerrup, Asmel!"
Delicate fingers grabbed his hand and he felt a wrenching sensation. Asmel felt the wall fall away as he turned sideways. He peeked his eyes open and realised that the wall had been the floor and he was falling over the other way towards it. He was caught by the blurry black and white shape in front of him. He focussed his eyes on seeing Mafie Snowhands, in double. Her hands were in his. Everyone else was watching, some chuckling. "Siddown a moment, ye great lout!"
"Huh?" Asmel flopped backwards and landed in a seat. At least he was still in the dining hall. "I los'?" he slurred at no one in particular.
Mafie walked back a pace. "Aye, now it be time to pay fer yer mistaeke, Asmel. Just follow along." Mafie spun on her heel and pointed to the occupants of another table. "All'a you!" She clapped, clapped, clapped, clapped. "As I said before!"
The dwarves thumped their mugs on the table in unison with Mafie's continued clapping. Mafie grinned with satisfaction and turned to another table, clapping a different skipping rhythm. The other table used their mugs to replicate. The thundering beat permeated the hall. The ever-present pick axe strikes were finally drowned out by the beating heart of the mountain, channelled through the stone and clay mugs of dwarves. Mafie beamed and opened her arms, her eyes drooping as she took in the music. She instructed one last table with a rhythm, off the beat of the first two, establishing a song that made her lightly step in place to it. Her eyes found Asmel after her light steps edged around to face him.
"Whadid'ye...? Whass goin' on?" Asmel was fidgeting on his table in fear. Even if he could run, he was still too drunk. "Whaddid'ye do to everyone!"
Mafie bent her knees slightly and lowered her arms. Her head was angled forward, daring Asmel. "Go on, see if ye can catch me!" She shouted over the thundering mugs. She thumped her chest and beckoned. "Come on! Ye wanted a wife! Catch one!"
Whether it was the drink or whatever effect was influencing everyone else in the room, Asmel felt his previous intentions become amplified with the regular drumming. He clasped both his hairy hands onto the sides of his chair and pushed himself until he stood. He took one uneasy stomp forward, then another. Asmel's eyes bored into Mafie and her grin.
"Do it, you gaspin' trout!" She shouted.
Asmel grit his teeth and launched forward, hands outstretched. He was barely able to move his legs fast enough to keep upright, sending him halting onto the side of a table, through the thin air that Mafie used to occupy. A bridge of laughter broke through the drumming mugs.
Mafie's voice rang out behind him. "Not good enough, Asmel! Try again."
Asmel pushed off the table and spun around. He launched himself in a similar manner, with similar consequences. He stood up, tried again. Stood up, tried again. The blue welts forming on his head and torso did not stop him. Mafie's voice took a turn for the sympathetic after the tenth time. Or the eleventh -- he had lost count.
"Yer tryin' too hard, Asmel," she said, this time placing a hand on his back as he struggled to return to his feet. The mugs still thundered on around them, yet he could hear her perfectly. "Look, ye see me like some challenge, some preize. I ain't all I'm chiselled out to be, a'right? Don't think I'm all that."
Asmel turned his head around, throwing a confused and defeated look through his black eye.
"Look, promise ye'll treat me like a dwarf and a friend and we can 'ave a dance, then I'll decide whether I wannae pu' up with ye for the rest of me life." Mafie worried her brow and smiled. "Would that be a'right with you?"
The broad body under Mafie's hand shrunk as Asmel exhaled. After a moment closing his eyes, he nodded and stood up to his feet, before offering a bruised hand to Mafie. "Care fer a dance, Mafie?"
Mafie's actions were her answer. She beamed and took Asmel's hand, pulling him into a spin. She laughed as Asmel twisted his face in an awkward effort to keep balance. They slowed to a rhythm with the ever-thundering mugs, but they were not the only ones dancing.
Around Mafie and Asmel, many other dwarves had taken partners to spin and step and leap with the drumming stone. They danced to exhaustion, drunk on ale and thrill.
What is your assessment of the demigods' servant race?
The dwarves are industrious, yet they take after some of Slough's propensities to a greater degree than the hain. However, their dependency on ethanol in their diets makes them unreliable and at the same time dependent.
Mafie and Asmel stumbled out of the dining hall in each other's arms, still cackling at a half-baked joke made ten minutes earlier. They staggered through the dark halls in search of their beds with hardly an understandable word emerging from their drunken mouths.
They were about halfway there before Mafie even chose to speak up seriously. "Asmel, yer not a bad dancer for havin' lost a drinkin' contest, ehheheh..."
"And yer not a bad drinker for..." He pulled his chin back to silence a belch. "Havin' two left feet."
"Don't go givin' yerself too much credit now, ye still step like a fish," Mafie laughed. Asmel joined in as that next laugh set them off for another long while of walking.
Mafie pushed up closer against Asmel and sighed. Her contented smile was contagious.
"Do ye really want to marry me, Asmel?"
Asmel's grin faded, joining his moustache with his beard once more. "Actually, Mafie, I just wanted to see what it was like."
Mafie's face scrunched up incredulously. "You dirty dog. To see what what was like?" She looked up at Asmel and her face darkened. Her eyes widened at the creature she was holding. The surface she was holding became cold against her fingers, causing her to gasp and step back.
The lean, armoured figure stood taller than Mafie, though it was thinner than any dwarf. She thought that it might have been a demigod. She hadn't seen or heard of this one before. It was white clay, plated, lithe. The soft rattle of chains brought her attention to the flail-like weights snaking around him...her...it. It was impossible to know. It wasn't Asmel.
Minus looked down on Mafie's shocked silence, just in time for her to fall backwards onto a seat on the floor. "To see what it was like to dance with another," the gentle voice had the texture of custard. Sweet and smooth.
The chains snaked forward with a mind of their own, shooting around Mafie's legs and neck. She tried to scream, but the chain around her neck tightened. She could not even breathe.
"Thank you, dwarf Mafie Snowhands for this favour. I must cover my tracks now."
Mafie struggled against the chains now wrapping around her entire body as she was lifted from the ground. Her eyes beaded with tears as they rolled backwards.
"Asmel never existed. You were very nice to him."
Mafie squeaked something, mouthing words that could not be given strength. It was pleading. Pleading that her crying eyes were expressing to greater effect.
"Goodbye."
Mafie's black hair flew in a twist and a bony set of cracks sounded. Her body went limp with her hair. Minus had its chains so entwined that it could feel her soft soul exit her body. Like a discarded doll, Minus unrolled Mafie's body over a staircase next to them, letting its chains retract back into its arms. Mafie lifelessly tumbled to the bottom of the flight, landing in a twisted pose. Her dead eyes were frozen open.
In the silent hall, Minus summoned forth its spinning clay wheel from the floor. A body replicating the form of Asmel was shaped, with a broken neck added to his now lifeless form. Minus tossed the corpse over the stairs in the same manner as Mafie's body. It then walked to the exit on clinking clay sabatons.
What did your lead find, Minus?
It was inconsequential.
The rushing expanse of ice below Minus repeated onwards to the horizon as it flew back north. The dwarves would have found the bodies by now. It would be marked with sadness and tragedy.
Minus only bowed its head, flicking it every now and then. It spotted the rare wildlife of the tundra.
They were weak. The best of them would not have survived the dance.
The idle journey drove Minus to extend one chain low enough to the ice to have it bounce and make marks through the snow. It served no purpose to do so. It simply preferred to see what marks would be made instead of thinking of the previous failure.
A quick death. She was in love, not in pain. Simple creature.
Minus' head perked up suddenly. It banked to alter its course with the latest message from Toun.
Alter your flight. You will now meet with Majus outside of Xerxes.
At once, father. What shall we do when we arrive?
Observe. Do not interfere unless I order you to.
Understood.
Fendros let out a laugh at Ahnasha's nervousness. "I can wait."
The three years that passed held a gradual escalation of importance for the pack. The news of Orcrest falling had hit them all hard, especially having mingled with the people there. That was what started the escalation. Each mission they undertook, each time they set out from the clanhome, they were making more of a tangible difference. Lycans were still on the back foot throughout Tamriel, but they tilted the balance.
Fendros assisted Ahnasha in any way he could to gather black souls. Despite opening up to further magical training, he continued to struggle with anything beyond elementary magical concepts. He instead had to rely on enchantments to trap souls. Thankfully, both Sabine and Meesei could provide such a thing for his bow. He put it to great use. In fact, learning to use enchanted items and potions was a skill that he developed to make up for his shortcomings.
Sabine had well and truly secured her position as a mature adult in the pack. If Meesei's declaration that she was a peer wasn't enough, she was able to shuffle off many burdensome insecurities that were still present from her adolescence. There were fewer times where nuanced speech and innuendos would go over her head. There were even times where she made them herself, to great effect, if only because they are hardly expected from her. One of the most apparent vestiges that she retained was her tendency to not contract her words and instead speak out every word of her sentences in full.
With Sabine's blooming maturity, her magical power only grew as well. Her progress had slowed since she began to reach Meesei's level, though her place as Meesei's peer was manifest whenever the need for magic was present. She gained her own reputation as a terrific mage on the battlefield, though with a different image to Meesei's lightning and flight. Even so, her passion remained firmly in the realms of alchemy. Blackreach offered near-endless avenues of research, especially with as knowledgeable a research partner as Marcaille. The pair spent much of their time continuing to refine the antidote to the soul-tearing gas, amongst other projects.
In spite of her new found knowledge, Sabine remained far less comfortable with Mora's black book than Meesei was. She politely declined Meesei's offer to use it, explaining that she wanted to be the one anchoring Meesei to reality should she delve too far. Not to mention, Sabine suspected that Mora didn't have a vested interest in keeping her alive and sane, unlike Meesei. Naturally, Sabine was the first to reprimand Meesei whenever she overstayed her schedule in Apocrypha. However, the information that Meesei returned with was not something Sabine was suspicious of enough not to discuss and research with Meesei.
Janius' main concern over the next few years revolved around Julan's education. He was old enough now that Janius brought books to teach him to read, write, count, and other lessons that he received at a similar age. Given that they were often travelling, he knew that Julan would not have a consistent education and would fall behind other children if it was so interrupted. Of course, Rhazii was at least a year ahead of Julan's schooling, but he joined in the lessons as well, for fun.
Between raising a child and his clan responsibilities, Janius lead a busy life. Yet still, he had time to improve his fighting skills with Kaleeth and his skills at magic with the Blackreach clan's battlemages. Most notably, his previously lacking wards were a focus of his training, becoming stronger to better protect the front line that so often included Lorag and Kaleeth unprotected from incoming spells.
Growth came in many forms in the pack, but there were none who grew more physically than Rhazii. Now getting ever closer to ten years old, Rhazii was a child taller than any he knew of his age in the clan. He ate more to feed his growth spurts, he settled into such boyish pursuits as weapons and crafts, and he continued to look out for Julan, his brother. Even if Julan annoyed him at times.
While Rhazii continued to be educated by his parents and teachers, Fendros took time to teach him how to string, maintain, and shoot a bow, as well as teaching him the techniques required to survive in the wilds. He was not taught how to fight just yet -- he was forbidden by Fendros to so much as point an arrow at anything that wasn't a small animal he was hunting. The time spent together was joined more by Ahnasha, now that she was no longer spending much of her time in research. Teaching experiences such as that bonded the family closer.
As soon as the alarm was raised amongst the enemy, the first to raise a spell against the pack found himself unable to discharge it due to a chitinous arrow through his neck. Another struck the next most dangerous target, and the next. The chaos caused by Kaleeth and Lorag was perfect for obscuring the grey form of Fendros a distance away, shooting from camouflage with an angular, recurve Dwemer bow. The full suit of light chitin armour he wore was perfect for breaking up his silhouette against the rocks. Short of a life detection spell, he was virtually invisible himself.
A third figure in gleaming Dwemer plate joined the formation beside Kaleeth. Janius' own armour still held the original Dwemer helmet visor, showing a eerily still face in rictus as he brought his yellow-bronze axe down on the shoulder of another swordsman. Together, Lorag's broad swings displaced and unbalanced the enemy. Together, Kaleeth and Janius worked in concert to open their stumbling enemies' defences and disable them. They were an unstoppable force, slowly pacing forward over the bodies they laid on the ground.
When the shock of the attack wore off, the enemy began to organise, levelling their bows and raising their shields. That was when a mist carried on a strong wind billowed forth from behind the plated formation's legs and flowed upwards. Lorag, Janius, and Kaleeth all had the such sudden concealment that any arrows or spells that flew their way were almost impossible to aim while they moved. Nothing could help the last few they were striking down as the rest retreated. As the formation emerged from the artificial fog, a cracking in the air struck at the enemy's shields with flying icicles.
Sabine emerged from the fog behind her packmates, glowing with protective magic. In one hand, she had raised a spell to detect life through the fog. In her other hand, extended in front of her, was an icicle charged with more power than the others. She released it without effort between Lorag and Kaleeth, launching a shard of ice as large as a club straight through the wooden shield of an enemy, pinning the shield to his chest and knocking him back with the weight of it. The struck enemy wheezed in pain, trying to get air into his now punctured lung. The enemy formation was broken for just long enough.
The three years that passed held a gradual escalation of importance for the pack. The news of Orcrest falling had hit them all hard, especially having mingled with the people there. That was what started the escalation. Each mission they undertook, each time they set out from the clanhome, they were making more of a tangible difference. Lycans were still on the back foot throughout Tamriel, but they tilted the balance.
Fendros assisted Ahnasha in any way he could to gather black souls. Despite opening up to further magical training, he continued to struggle with anything beyond elementary magical concepts. He instead had to rely on enchantments to trap souls. Thankfully, both Sabine and Meesei could provide such a thing for his bow. He put it to great use. In fact, learning to use enchanted items and potions was a skill that he developed to make up for his shortcomings.
Sabine had well and truly secured her position as a mature adult in the pack. If Meesei's declaration that she was a peer wasn't enough, she was able to shuffle off many burdensome insecurities that were still present from her adolescence. There were fewer times where nuanced speech and innuendos would go over her head. There were even times where she made them herself, to great effect, if only because they are hardly expected from her. One of the most apparent vestiges that she retained was her tendency to not contract her words and instead speak out every word of her sentences in full.
With Sabine's blooming maturity, her magical power only grew as well. Her progress had slowed since she began to reach Meesei's level, though her place as Meesei's peer was manifest whenever the need for magic was present. She gained her own reputation as a terrific mage on the battlefield, though with a different image to Meesei's lightning and flight. Even so, her passion remained firmly in the realms of alchemy. Blackreach offered near-endless avenues of research, especially with as knowledgeable a research partner as Marcaille. The pair spent much of their time continuing to refine the antidote to the soul-tearing gas, amongst other projects.
In spite of her new found knowledge, Sabine remained far less comfortable with Mora's black book than Meesei was. She politely declined Meesei's offer to use it, explaining that she wanted to be the one anchoring Meesei to reality should she delve too far. Not to mention, Sabine suspected that Mora didn't have a vested interest in keeping her alive and sane, unlike Meesei. Naturally, Sabine was the first to reprimand Meesei whenever she overstayed her schedule in Apocrypha. However, the information that Meesei returned with was not something Sabine was suspicious of enough not to discuss and research with Meesei.
Janius' main concern over the next few years revolved around Julan's education. He was old enough now that Janius brought books to teach him to read, write, count, and other lessons that he received at a similar age. Given that they were often travelling, he knew that Julan would not have a consistent education and would fall behind other children if it was so interrupted. Of course, Rhazii was at least a year ahead of Julan's schooling, but he joined in the lessons as well, for fun.
Between raising a child and his clan responsibilities, Janius lead a busy life. Yet still, he had time to improve his fighting skills with Kaleeth and his skills at magic with the Blackreach clan's battlemages. Most notably, his previously lacking wards were a focus of his training, becoming stronger to better protect the front line that so often included Lorag and Kaleeth unprotected from incoming spells.
Growth came in many forms in the pack, but there were none who grew more physically than Rhazii. Now getting ever closer to ten years old, Rhazii was a child taller than any he knew of his age in the clan. He ate more to feed his growth spurts, he settled into such boyish pursuits as weapons and crafts, and he continued to look out for Julan, his brother. Even if Julan annoyed him at times.
While Rhazii continued to be educated by his parents and teachers, Fendros took time to teach him how to string, maintain, and shoot a bow, as well as teaching him the techniques required to survive in the wilds. He was not taught how to fight just yet -- he was forbidden by Fendros to so much as point an arrow at anything that wasn't a small animal he was hunting. The time spent together was joined more by Ahnasha, now that she was no longer spending much of her time in research. Teaching experiences such as that bonded the family closer.
As soon as the alarm was raised amongst the enemy, the first to raise a spell against the pack found himself unable to discharge it due to a chitinous arrow through his neck. Another struck the next most dangerous target, and the next. The chaos caused by Kaleeth and Lorag was perfect for obscuring the grey form of Fendros a distance away, shooting from camouflage with an angular, recurve Dwemer bow. The full suit of light chitin armour he wore was perfect for breaking up his silhouette against the rocks. Short of a life detection spell, he was virtually invisible himself.
A third figure in gleaming Dwemer plate joined the formation beside Kaleeth. Janius' own armour still held the original Dwemer helmet visor, showing a eerily still face in rictus as he brought his yellow-bronze axe down on the shoulder of another swordsman. Together, Lorag's broad swings displaced and unbalanced the enemy. Together, Kaleeth and Janius worked in concert to open their stumbling enemies' defences and disable them. They were an unstoppable force, slowly pacing forward over the bodies they laid on the ground.
When the shock of the attack wore off, the enemy began to organise, levelling their bows and raising their shields. That was when a mist carried on a strong wind billowed forth from behind the plated formation's legs and flowed upwards. Lorag, Janius, and Kaleeth all had the such sudden concealment that any arrows or spells that flew their way were almost impossible to aim while they moved. Nothing could help the last few they were striking down as the rest retreated. As the formation emerged from the artificial fog, a cracking in the air struck at the enemy's shields with flying icicles.
Sabine emerged from the fog behind her packmates, glowing with protective magic. In one hand, she had raised a spell to detect life through the fog. In her other hand, extended in front of her, was an icicle charged with more power than the others. She released it without effort between Lorag and Kaleeth, launching a shard of ice as large as a club straight through the wooden shield of an enemy, pinning the shield to his chest and knocking him back with the weight of it. The struck enemy wheezed in pain, trying to get air into his now punctured lung. The enemy formation was broken for just long enough.
@Vec You know what drop bears are, right?
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