DKMortals/SessionTwelve

[ST] The Once Dead file out of the Tomb and into the streets as the warning bell continues to clamor, finding them all but deserted. The broad avenue before the Tomb is piled with high drifts of snow that none have cleared away, dotted in places with shreds of blood and strange, multi-hued snow. The Wyldwinds are blowing more strongly during this time. It is impossible to tell whether it is night or day - the sky alternates between raw, striated red and a dark, slate gray.

[ST] The sound of revelry can be heard behind the closed doors of nearby homes, and windows glow with light, but snow shutters are drawn and latched. In the distance, a single drunken man staggers along, stopping to vomit in the gutter. Once outside, the sound of the bell fades, though it can still be heard hammering in the Tomb. Suddenly, as the Once Dead gather themselves outside, it stops.

[ST] "Is that bad or good?" Elk asks.

[ST] "What man can tell, during Calibration?" Chokes on Mirth returns. She is also known as the Carrion Crow, a tall, powerfully muscled woman with dark hair and skin, her face marked with scarification and tribal tattoos. A close observer could recognize them as being from a Tear Eaters tribe. It is said she was taken as a war slave as a child and found her way to the Once Dead. The hide-bound

[ST] hilt of a greatsword peeks over her shoulder.

[ST] "The world of the honored dead draws close to our own," she continues. "I can smell it."

[Otter] "Really," says Otter, peering into the night. She draws instinctively close to Elk.

[ST] Elk looks uncomfortable with this sudden nearness. Perhaps remembering Two-Bits' dead, staring eye. Leopard torn to pieces. "We don't even know it's anything. My tribe considered Calibration a time for pranks, after all." If he recalls the oddity earlier this evening(?) he doesn't speak of it, but his eyes look hunted.

[Otter] "The sky is beauitful, anyway," Otter hints, looking up at him hopefully.

[ST] Otter, looking up at the sky, is the first one to spot it - a sudden darkening, a briefest shift from red to black, as if something had suddenly appeared over the city and then vanished. Her impression is of something huge and rectangular, perhaps miles long, big enough to crush the city. Miruna and Annar see it as well, but in more detail. It is a massive obsidan slab, its surface covered with intricate whorls and reliefs, dotted with writhing, luminous forms.

[ST] It is there for but a moment, then vanishes again, but from where it had been a number of glowing dots fall towards the city almost leisurely, like snow-spiders on their silken parachutes.

[Otter] Otter draws in a sharp breath. "Do you think those are monsters?" She sounds torn between nervousness and excitement.

[Miruna] Miruna grunts, looking about the sky for any more evidence of the things. His skin was still crawling from the woman, and this looked to be no better.

[ST] Long before they hit the ground, the dots flicker and fade from sight as well. There seems to be no obvious danger nearby... yet tension hangs thick in the air.

[Annar] Annar leans on his staff, bearing the Once Dead's standard. "We should make for the Citadel. They look to be dropping everywhere, so we won't need to run out of our way to investigate." He doesn't sound especially thrilled about this somehow.

[ST] "This has the touch of the netherworld about it," Chokes on Mirth supplies. "We should move with haste. Perhaps it is nothing but bluster. Perhaps not."

[Otter] "Yes, let's investigate!" Otter agrees immediately, eyes gleaming. She reaches out and squeezes Elk's hand.

[ST] "Should we warn the others?" Elk asks, suppressing a grimace. "If this is some sort of attack, the other Once Dead should know. Otter, perhaps you should return and tell them to spread the alarm..."

[Miruna] "What do you think the bells were for, lad?"

[ST] "But where is everyone else?" Elk points to the drunk, now lying facedown in the gutter. "The militia? It's like only the Once Dead received the call."

[Annar] Annar starts moving, striding forward, using the standard like a walking staff, not giving any particular care to the flag of the Once Dead. Still, in the wind of the day it flutters menacingly.

[Otter] "Maybe we did," Otter says, disregarding Elk's suggestion as unworthy of him. She looks at Miruna and bites her lip. With only a bit of forced cheer, she adds, "It is Calibration. The militia isn't for heroes. Not like the Once Dead!"

[ST] "Fine," Elk says, strangely sullen. "Let's get going, then. Sooner we check, sooner we're back." Calibration. These things happened.

[Otter] She grins at him and follows Annar, tugging Elk after her. She keeps her eyes fixed on the restless sky- someone should- so she stumbles once or twice, one time almost pulling Elk down with her.

[Annar] "Hopefully we'll see them as we get to the Citadel, perhaps not. Still, we must. Duty and orders." He says it with mild distaste. Still, he moves with haste, pulling the others behind him. Those who don't know him see an older man, thin, still vital, but with much grey in his black hair. People who knew better noted how easily he handled the thick eight foot staff that bore the Raven's flag.

[ST] The Once Dead set out down strangely quiet streets, winding their way towards the Citadel. It's not far as the crow flies, as the Tomb squats in the lee of the massive Citadel Rock, but the Once Dead are forced to skirt around the edge of the rock for some distance before they reach a way upwards. There are three options - closest, a narrow stair which winds around the Rock as it ascends,

[ST] steep and treacherous; more distant, the entrance to the Windway, a broad tunnel that bores up through the center of the rock, but requires a longer trip; in the other direction, perhaps as far, the wicker elevators which should take the Once Dead up the fastest - if there's actually anyone manning the stations above during Calibration.

[Otter] "How do you we get there fastest?" Otter asks, tilting her head back and striving the look unimpressed. These settled people built things BIG.

[Annar] "The stairs will be fastest" he answers. He doubted anyone would man the elevators during calibration, and especially during an alarm. Besides, he had never liked being suspended in a wicker basket to depend only on others strength and mechanics to keep him alive.

[Miruna] Miruna trudges behind them, glaring at shadows. He found it much easier to be angry than afraid.

[Otter] "Right," she says, and as they move closer, she suddenly breaks away from the others and turns, grinning. "Race you to the top!"

[Otter] She takes the first steps at a gallop, laughing.

[Annar] Annar puts on a smile, paternalistic or patronizing, depending on how easily offended you are. He treats the stairs with far more caution, carrying the staff with his outside arm, using it to keep him steady on the stairs.

[ST] Elk looks back at Miruna as he follows her up, his expression rapidly shifting between apologetic, concerned, and stoic. The climb is easy at first, the steps broad and widely spaced, but as the Once Dead continue to climb, the staircase begins to grow more and more narrow, the steps steeper. Miruna remembers that there are rumors that the whole thing is held together with geomancy, and

[ST] simply obliterating the right glyph somewhere will shatter the stairs entirely.

[ST] As the stairs narrow, even Otter has to slow her pace slightly. Wind whips against the Once Dead, howling, but it's not cold as it should be. It's strangely humid, warm, moist, heavy with a scent like copper. Sweat begins to break out beneath winter clothing as the Once Dead climb. From time to time, the strange thing appears again in the sky, along with more glowing shapes.

[Miruna] He trudges up at the rear of the party, unslinging his shield and carrying it high, to keep the biting wind from his face.

[Miruna] He pulls it back down after a short while, surprised. Pleased for a short while, before suffering as the rest. Perhaps the northern cold wasn't as bad as it seemed

[ST] As they rise higher, the Once Dead can see the shapes moving through the streets now, like distant, indistinct glow worms. They dart through alleys, press up against doors, call out - strange cries rise amidst the revelry. Off to the right, open air and the city rest, and a strange, billowing column of yellowish fog can be seen hanging over the Old Market district.

[Otter] A little tired, Otter slows down, though she remains steadfastly three or four steps ahead of Elk. She pauses now and then to look at the giant obsidian thing, her cheeks flushed with exhileration.

[Miruna] After the jorney home, he had stripped his armor to the base metal, and begun its decoration anew. Layers of primer, to make paint stick to the metal, then mixing new paints, designed for the scenes he wanted. They had seen a pack of wolves hunting deer, northern stags with great spreads of antlers, looking like they would get caught in the trees, if the trees they were running through were any less stunted.

[Miruna] The front of his armor was a family scene of sorts, the alpha male looking on muzzle bloody, as his bitch and cubs ate from a stag carcass in the snow. Other plates showed the stag running, the wolves stalking, the bones and blood in the snow that were all that was left, in his mind. They had passed before then, but he could still see it.

[ST] The upward journey, made in haste, burdened by armor, and in the hot weather, begins to wear on the Once Dead. Miruna, Elk, and Carrion Crow don't seem to mind the sweat that runs down their brows, but Otter feels her muscles beginning to cramp and ache dully, and Annar feels a painful stitch in his side. He may have pulled something.

[Annar] He grits his teeth, trying to contain his panting. He knows it is better to breath deep, but his pride won't let him show so weak in front of the others. The stitch burns in his side all the harder for his stubbornness. He dips a finger into one of the pouches at his waist, and pulls out a wadge of leaves, a scoop of a herbal mixture he kept prepared. It would dull his pain, and in small amounts shouldn't leave him dull.

[Otter] Otter huffs as reaches the top, about ready to drop. The muscles involved in chasing deer were not hte same as in walking up stairs, she tells herself. Anyway, only the Haslanti made stairs. Foolish people. She glances behind her and frowns when she sees Elk does not even look winded. She takes a seat on the fence and proclaims, rather grandly, that she thought it best if they observed the construction for a

[Otter] few minutes.

[Otter] Her dignity is rather ruined by the quick gasps she made between sentences.

[Annar] He takes the break gladly, leaning on his staff as heavily as he can without it being obvious, trying to keep the puffs of his breath as quiet as possible. He thanks the air for being so warm, glad that his breath wasn't the white banner it would be most winter days.

[Miruna] Miruna chuckles darkly, glancing around for more signs of emergency. "No-one seems to be dying at the moment" he slurs.

[ST] "Maybe-" Elk begins, but Otter never gets the chance to find out what he is going to say, or to rest either, as almost as soon as she seats herself atop the stairs, a howl splits the air. Perhaps Miruna spoke to soon.

[Otter] Otter stands up in alarm, pulling her javelin clumsily from its sheath, looking in every direction.

[Otter] "What was that?" she blurts out, forgetting to sound like a Chief.

[ST] The stairs terminate in a small square, usually empty and disused by honest folk. Blank whitewashed walls rise on all sides, the cheap homes of government bureaucrats too poor to afford finer lodgings lower in the city. An alley at the far end allows entry to the area around the Citadel proper, and it is through this alley that the creatures come, panting and slavering.

[ST] If their luminous nature did not give away that they were not of creation, their twisted forms would. They have the look of small, pampered dogs, hideously distorted in size until they stand as tall as a man at the shoulder. Their backs appear to be hunchbacked and broken, forcing them to lean forward grotesquely. They are not made of fur, but of strange, bundled hunks of dirty silk and

[ST] bloody muscle. Their eyes are nests of buzzing black beetles, their teeth razor sharp ivory. There are four of them, slavering, moving to tear the Once Dead apart.

[Annar] He takes a quick step forward, taking his weight off the staff, then lifts it, whipping the tip in two tight circles to wrap the unit's flag around the shaft before bringing it down, hard, at the head of the first abomination. The ends of the staff were shod with iron, and he kept the Once Dead banner lower on it than most standards he had seen, to try to keep the blood off of it.

[Annar] The Once Dead were used to him by now. He'd heard them brag that other units had to panic when the standard fell, whereas they had to go bury the bodies.

[ST] Annar's blow lands with a crunch, smashing a deep dent in the creature's head... which suddenly pops back out. The damage dealt seems mostly cosmetic. The dog gives a chuffing grunt, black, maggoty tongue sliding out of its slavering mouth.

[ST] With the strange, fluid motion of shadow puppets, the dogs dart, weaving their way among the Once Dead. The one Annar struck whips its head around, lashing out at the man's hamstring.

[Otter] Otter is breathing fast still as the dogs come. Her javelin feels clumsy in her cold fingers. Munroe skitters and cheeps in its warm spot in her hood, the flying squirrels little claws digging unpleasantly into the back of her neck. My mother would not be afraid, Otter tells herself, and the thought settles in her stomach with a grim solidity.

[Otter] "Come on," she whispers as she settles back, her javelin lowered so it would catch a monster-dog in the belly when it leaped at her.

[ST] Annar manages to batter away the attack aimed his way, but a pair of dogs rush past him, darting back and forth. They move to either side of Otter, and as one springs, the other pauses, seeming to study the woman, ears flattening against its head.

[Otter] Otter's eyes are narrowed, and her javelin is ready. She wasn't afraid, she tells herself, when sees the tip tremble. Just cold.

[Annar] He grimaces as the staff rebounds from the dogs head. His hands ached from the reverberations. He had expected to knock its head down at least, for it too allow some follow through. He darts the staff around, fending the beast off, using it like a long spear.

[ST] The last of the Dogs bulls in towards Elk as he steps alongside Otter. Its clawed paws tear gouges in the stone of the square as it tenses to spring at him.

[Otter] When the dog leaps at her she catches it in the chest and strikes it a glancing blow. It whimpers a little as she sends it sliding against the snow.

[Otter] She would have laughed in triumph, if the other weren't poised to eat her.

[ST] Elk is faster, though, and his blade sweeps up, battering the leaping creature down. Sweat runs down his forehead, pasting his hair down.

[Miruna] Miruna grins into the padding of his helmet. Something he could fight, beat down. Fear would come later, if one bit him, after they died. Now he roared, waving his mace above his head before bringing it crashing down at one of the dogs circling Otter.

[Miruna] He catches it in its hindquarters, smashing them to the ground. Its spine twists awkwardly, its back legs scrabble at the flagstones beneath for purchase. Soem of the muscles near its back right hip appear to be severed.

[ST] Elk faces down the creature that leaped at him, eyes narrowed. Lunging, he feints to the lift, then spins on his heel, slamming his short, ugly, but effective blade into the side of the creature's head.

[ST] The blow staggers the creature, sending it stumbling right into Chokes on Mirth's attack. Planting her legs, she swings downward viciously, striking the creature in the middle of its back. It staggers back, howling, flesh unbinding and beginning to come to pieces. It barely seems to still be standing.

[Otter] Otter's hands moves fast, sending a javelin flying toward one of the dogs that attacked her, then pulling out a second and flinging it at another. She chooses her targets thoughtlessly in the heat of the moment. Her right arm aches with the force of the throws.

[ST] One of the dogs dances out of the way of Otter's javelin, but her weapon catches the second in the head, javelin spearing through both of its eyes. The Dog gives a long, warbling howl and then collapses into a puddle of blood and a drift of silken scraps.

[ST] The three remaining dogs, one heavily wounded but seemingly moving no slower for the trouble, return to the attack, one breaking away to attack Annar, Otter, and Crow.

[ST] Annar and Otter fend off the attacks, but Crow's clumsy greatsword isn't quite fast enough. Razored fangs slice across her upper thigh, penetrating armor to let blood flow.

[Annar] Annar brings his staff sweeping around into the Dog's legs, undercutting it.

[Annar] But steps nimbly over, almost hopping. He lets the follow-through pull the staff farther, then forces it up and over into a slashing downward strike aimed at the thing's head.

[Annar] this catches it, jest as its feet return to the stone, before it has a chance to react. The staff cuts down through the flesh and cloth, deforming the mass of its head disgustingly. Then it meets the flagstones, and the flesh of its face bursts, sending bloody streamers of silk all over Crow's legs.

[Annar] He follows through into the ground, striking sparks from the stone, and accepting the pain in his hands and wrists, then reverses the staff over his head, spinning as he does, to bring it down across the back of the second dog menacing Otter. The young lady looked like she needed room, javelins being so awkward up close.

[ST] Suddenly, the air seems to grow chill, the unnatural heat departing as the billowing yellow fog the Once Dead spotted across the city suddenly rises over the lip of the Citadel, shrouding the area. Immediately, friend and foe alike are masked by a chill, yellow veil.

[ST] Crow gives an anguished scream as the fog descends, tinged with the terror of remembrance. "The Fog that Slays!"

[Miruna] Miruna stares as the wave of fog breaks over them, gooseflesh raising on his arms and back. The wet coughs serving the abominations as barks bring him back to the waning battle. "Forthright" he yells into the fog, on general principle that the other Once Dead were more dangerous than whatever they were in this with, so it was best for all to know where he was than none.

[Miruna] He finds a dog, and sets to destroying it, hard and fast, taking pleasure in the feedback from the hilt of his mace. This was work for him, not those dreams..

[Miruna] the dog's remains splatter across the square, flying into the fog with the backswings of his mace. He grins into the padding of his helmet. A splash of blood had flown across his helmet, but the padding and iron had caught most of it. It itched on his nose, but that could wait.

[Otter] "I...I"m here!" Otter says, taking Miruna's meaning. She peers through the fog for the low slouching shapes, but it is her ears that alert her to its presence- the scrape of nails against stone and a low whuff. It stalked low to the ground, sniffing at Elk. "No you don't!" she shrieks at it, flinging her last javelin forward.

[ST] The javelin strikes the cobblestones before the creature, but it alerts Elk to its presence. Steeling himself, he springs forward, lashing out at the creature again and again.

[Otter] The javelin whooshes uselessly over the creature's back. She can see it turn its head and snap at her.

[ST] Obscured by the shifting fog, the creature is able to avoid most of Elk's attacks. His last swipe strikes its hunched shoulders, but skitters off them without doing any real harm... and all around, the fog seems to press in, cold and hungry.

[ST] "You don't understand!" Chokes on Mirth screams. "The Fog, it- it-"

[ST] The chill of the fog seems to eat at the very flesh, drying and desiccating it. Elk cries out in pain.

[Otter] "It wants to e-eat us," Otter says, backing away. She pauses. "Elk, we have to get away!" she shouts.

[ST] "Stay calm!" Elk calls back. "W-We can do this! Hold it together!"

[ST] Somewhere in the fog, the dog whines in pain - apparently it is not immune to the fog's horrid touch.

[ST] Crow thrashes through the fog towards the sound, laying about wildly with her blade.

[Otter] "We have to get away!" she screams at him. Must he be stupid and stubborn. "It's killing us!" The fog touched her with cold, vile fingers. She runs to Elk, arms stretched out to grab him.

[ST] The dog howls, backing away from Crow's attack, clearly on its last legs. As Otter runs by, it lashes out, attracted by the sound of her movement, maddened by the chilling death.

[Miruna] Miruna feels it pulling at him. The cold burns at his scar, his warm padding helping not at all. The blood on his nose freezes, then desiccates until it is a faint read smear, as if he'd left it there for days. He yells in pain, letting himself pour it into that, to keep his wits about him. He stomps to the other Once Dead, careful to watch for any more of the dogs in the killing fog.

[Otter] Otter cries out unwillingly sa the creature sinks its teeth into her leg. She beats at its head as it worries her, almost yanking her off her feet, until she has the wit to draw her knife and harry it away.

[Miruna] He hears Otter cry, and charges forward. They needed to be out of this fog, or at least to think, and for that they needed the dogs to die.

[Otter] Blood oozes from the bite, and she grits her teeth against shrieking with pain as she moves through the fog.

[Miruna] the mace swings down, sweeping from the side at the end of a fully extended arm, and catches the dog in the stomach during the upswing, hurling it screeching to the side.

[ST] The dog tumbles away through the fog, knocked temporarily senseless - a deadly enough fate in this chilly hell. Chokes on Mirth cries out in the darkness "The fog... it will kill us! We must get away, or else find the core! It doesn't like fire!"

[Annar] "Stay together!" he yells into the fog. "If we separate, we die." He thought he could hear some of the Once Dead running, and tries to catch up. They were heading the wrong way, also. The fog had broken over the cliff's edge. They needed to head deeper onto the hill.

[Otter] Otter gropes along the wall for a torch, not speaking. She didn't trust her voice not to shake, and she wouldn't let Elk hear her fear. The fog was different, more terrible, than the wild boars and heights that had made her laugh at other's fears.

[ST] Elk tries to follow Otter as the fog settles in, tearing away at the both of them. He claws at the wall alongside her, finding nothing. Were there any torches here? Maybe inside? Maybe down the street?

[ST] "We have to get out of here!" he shouts, even as Crow runs past him, pelting full speed down the street, her nerve broken at last.

[Annar] "Search the nearest building, we can find something to burn in there surely."

[ST] Otter's frantic search changes as her fingers find the wood of a door, heavily latched and bolted. The fog closes in, chilling everyone further.

[Miruna] "Stay together!" he roars, his voice cutting deep through the fog. His voice was designed for the battlefield, and rowdy bars.

[Otter] Otter bangs uselessly on it for a few seconds then shouts, "N-NO- there's no time- we have to run," Otter says, grateful someone else had scampered first. She grabs Elk's hand and pulls him after her, sprinting after Crow.

[Miruna] He runs after them, no more wanting to be alone than they.

[Annar] Annar follows, using the staff to help him along. The chilling pain was stiffening his hip, an old injury.

[ST] The Once Dead burst from the fog into suddenly shocking warmth, and Otter's terror abates slightly as they continue on, following behind the now distant Crow. The sky is still a hellish red, shifting now and then to reveal the obsidian slab in the sky. More glowing dots stream from it, but there's no time to worry about that now.

[ST] The fog fills the square they have just come from like a wall, and then, as the Once Dead look back, it shifts and begins to move, following them with malicious intent.

[ST] The Once Dead race down a marble alley towards the Citadel and the buildings within. On either side, occasional doors open into government offices or residences, all tightly locked and shuttered. The fog comes on.

[Otter] "Why don't these stupid Haslanti have wood stores?" Otter demands to the air, taking refuge from fear iin indignantion. Her breathing steadied and she now sounded more like her father's daughter.

[Miruna] Miruna lumbers along, trying to keep ahead of the fog. "Get the gates open!" he yells ahead, hoping the quicker younglings have that much thought in their heads.

[ST] The Once Dead have a bit of a head start, but the fog seems to be faster. It comes on, inexhorably, unstoppably, and it is gaining. Soon, the Once Dead find it nipping at their heels once more as they barely stay ahead of it, and then, disaster. Elk slips on a bit of Otter's blood, staggering in her grip, his hand tearing free of hers as he falls. He lands awkardly, his knee giving with

[ST] a sickening splintering noise, and the fog rolls over him.

[ST] He cries out, lost in the rolling fogbank.

[Otter] "NO!" Otter shrieks, turning back.

[Otter] "Find fire!" she shouts at the others and plunges back into the churning yellow fog.

[Otter] She doesn't see him so much as fall over him. He hisses in pain when she puts her weight on his broken leg. "Sorry!" she whimpers mindlessly. She scrambles to her feet, reaches down, grabs his arms, and drags him, careless of the maimed limb. She looks back overshoulder.

[Otter] Hard to tell now which direction the fog ended. "Help!" she screams as she drags him. It wasn't enough, they weren't moving fast enough. She leans down, grits her teeth, pulls Elk over her shoulder, and begins to run- or rather, stagger. Pain shoots up her bitten leg with each step.

[Otter] "Help," she groans. "Help!"

[ST] Otter manages to grab at him and pull him free for the moment, but he looks... different as he emerges. He feels lighter, and his arms are strangely withered. His face is a mask of pain. He cries out as his broken leg drags on the ground, and as she drags him, bursting temporarily free of the fog. It pauses for a moment, as if digesting whatever it has taken from Elk.

[ST] Annar and Miruna seem to be lost. The fog is closing in behind again. Otter stands in narrow alley, staggering under Elk's weight. At the end of the alley, she can see a wooden door, and one of the drainage grates used to channel snowmelt away from the citadel.

[ST] If the others hear her cries, they do not answer them.

[Otter] Only one chance. She hobbles forward, still half-carrying Elk. She tests the door.

[ST] The handle is old, rust-flecked. It groans in her hand like it wants to come off, but it's clearly locked. The fog begins to move again. Elk cries out "My... sword... hurry..."

[Otter] She unsheaths it awkwardly and bangs at the handle. "Stupid Halsanti," she pants under hre breath. It almost sounds like weeping. "Break, break!"

[ST] The handle creaks, starting to give, but it doesn't break. The fog moves closer. Elk looks at it with terrified eyes.

[ST] As Otter continues to work, Elk draws a long knife from his belt and hurls it impotently into the approaching fog. The surface of the fogbank ripples and slows for a moment, almost as if the attack gives it pause. It is the briefest of respites.

[Otter] She couldn't let him die. She couldn't. She bangs fiercely at the stupid Haslanti handle with the hilt of his sword.She could feel the yellow fog like breath against her neck.

[ST] And then, as the fog surges forward again, the handle breaks free as Otter batters at it, and the door opens at her next hit. Of course, now it can't be sealed.

[ST] The room beyond is small and dark, currently empty. From what Otter can see, she judges it must be a bureaucrat's home, and he must be elsewhere to celebrate Calibration. Or dead. A fireplace in the corner has burned down to a few hot embers. A minefield of furniture lies between it and the two of them.

[Otter] Otter pushes Elk in front of her, follows him inside, whirls, and slams the door behind her. "Get the fire!" she yells at him, keeping her back pressed against hte door.

[ST] Elk staggers across the room, falling twice, cursing desperately in the dark as he fumbles towards the fire. The entropic fog gropes at the door - Otter can literally feel it pushing, and then tendrils of it emerge, trailing greasily over her skin.

[ST] Elk falls into the ashes, burning his hand as he fumbles for a piece of wood from a nearby basket and shoves it into the ashes. THere is a pitifully small spark as his flint and tinder ignite.

[Otter] Otter bites her lip as she sees the fog seep in through the crack between the door and the floor. "Hurry!" she yells at him.

[ST] The wood catches, guttering to life, and Elk hurriedly shoves in another piece, and another. The fireplace kindles brightly, and the tendrils of fog slip away. The pressure on the door ceases.

[ST] Elk drags himself away from the fire, now too weak to stand. He looks somehow shrunken.

[Otter] "Oh, Fox and Bear," Otter moans, sinking against the door. She sits there, eyes closed, for a restful moment, then takes in Elk.

a breath away from sobbing.

[Otter] A little tear does creep out of the corner of her eyes, but she rubs it angrily away. "We have to set your leg," she warns him.

[ST] "You saved my life," he says quietly. "And I don' t know why. And my leg will keep, yours won't." He laughs. "Why don't we agree to fix each... ow... other's. There'll be one good one between us."

[ST] It's definitely the most relaxed conversation they've ever had, but that may be because both of them are about half dead.

[Otter] "I saved your life because, I loved you, stupid," Otter mutters almost angrily, but she can't maintain it for longer than a few seconds before she laughs. "Right. We'll be hopping home."

[Otter] She eases down so that she'd slumping next to him, and with a grimace, she rolls up her leathers so they can inspect the wound. She wrinkles her nose and cringes a little when he pokes at it.

[ST] "Listen, I'm no Annar, but I can fix... I think I can fix this." He reaches for the fireplace poker which has already begun to warm, and carefully presses the red hot tip along the length of the wound. Flesh sizzles and burns, and the wound closes. "Didn't say it would be painless, though."

[Otter] He cauterizes the wound a little too eagerly to her mind. "Didn't..hurt....a bit..." she says through gritted teeth, ltitle tears pinpricking her eyes.

[ST] "Well, good." He says mildly. He piles on more wood. "Listen... you have to... you can still get out of this. But once you're in, it's too late. Walk away from this. I'm not worth it."

[Otter] "Do you think I can't do it?" she asks, her pride stung. " She watches his movements a little warily; he had surprised her with the poker. D-do you think I'm some summer idiot who doesn't know what she's doing, or what she wants?"

[ST] He grimaces, looking down at his slightly crooked leg. "Do you think this is a game? Do you think the two of us are going to be wed while Soldas says the holy words and Miruna wears a summermaid dress? Do you think they're going to let you go home?" He closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. He almost sounds ready to cry when he adds: "Do you think either of us will even be

[ST] alive this time next year?"

[Otter] "Of course they will, " Otter says breezily. "And of course we will." She looks at his leg too before looking away. She sounds almost cynical when she continues. "They wouldn't dare keep me. What do you think Aunt Fox or Father Bear would do if they tried?" She doesn't let him answer. "Ally with the Bull is what. The Haslanti and the Icewalkers are manuvering, but everyone knows there's going to be a war.

[Otter] We're unaligned for now, but that won't last. The Haslanti need our alleigance."

[ST] "You may be right," he admits. He doesn't know for sure how serious the Haslanti were about keeping the Once Dead from deserting. They might give up a soldier for an alliance. "But you might not live that long. I've... only been serving for a few months, and I've seen so many people die. You and I are going to be just like them. Most of us don't retire. You have to get out now. You have to

[ST] forget this, it's insane. You're doing this for nothing!"

[Otter] "I'm doing it for you!" Otter says brightly, taking his hand. The moment of maturity slides away from her face.

[ST] He snatches his hand from hers with a violence that he has never shown to her before. "Don't you get it?!" He snaps. "I knew what I was getting into. I knew the risks. I knew what it would be like," he hadn't, really. If he had, maybe he would've- no. Useless. "I knew everything, and I chose this life. I chose it over having to be near you." He laughs, a rough, ugly sound. "So why don't

[ST] you just go home, and spare a guy who'd rather be dead than be your husband."

[Otter] Otter's face goes rigid. She draws back. "That's not true," she hisses. "You're lying. You're just trying to drive me away. But you know what? It won't work." She pulls her jacket down over shoulder exposing the black raven's tatoo, and grins mirthlessly at him. "See? I'm one of the Once Dead too now."

[Otter] She almost spits, she's so angry at him, for think she's stupid enough to believe him. He was so transparent. "And I'm going to be the best Once Dead there is!" she adds, to clinch the matter.

[ST] Elk groans, unable to form a rejoinder to this optimism. "I hope Miruna and Annar find us soon," he says, instead.

[Otter] She draws her jacket back over her shoulders and crosses her arms defiantly over her chest, blinking rapidly to hold back tears. Her face settles into a black scowl. "Me too," she allows.

[Otter] Then maybe Elk would stop saying he didn't love her.