Fall of the North RPG

[Osse]

Slowly, Carthor’s eyes opened to take in the ruddy light. He was stretched out on a bier of yew; the branches were lashed together and covered in fabric to form a membrane which was currently sagging under his weight. As his eyes slowly reached out to focus the great room around him, he became aware of a cold wall of grey stone to his right. The wall was covered in richly embroidered tapestries and hangings depicting great scenes of battle. One by his cold, grey right hand depicted a great hunt, the dogs rearing as they went in for the kill upon a large boar, fighting to the last. Carthor’s head swirled as he tried to raise it, the blood rushed to his throbbing head and he lay heavily back down upon the bier. His eyes closed and his tired, damaged mind tried to piece together the happenings of the last day, the last bloody, horrible day.

Flashes of the battle raced like stampeding kine through his mind, their thundering, steel clad hooves breaking the soft ground of his mind and throwing other memories, like dust into the wind. Faces, both man and orc, alive and dead, swirled in the dust. Carthor could feel his own hand as it gripped his broadsword, could feel the shudder as it bit into flesh. A tall building, aflame suddenly reared up out of the dust, its form like a great beast itself, stricken by many hurts, yet still unconquered. He could hear the screams, taste the hot blood on his parched lips, feel the cobble stones underfoot and the sickly wind as it mockingly caressed his face with the stench of the dead. And then out of the dust came a great beam, burning as it fell on him.

Carthor opened his eyes. There, kneeling by his left side, bathing some linen in steamy water, the fragrance of which filled the air, was his Lissi. It was then that Carthor realized that the fear and doubt in his mind was not directed at what had happened to him, but rather what had happened to her, her and their two boys. Carthor’s gnarled hand reached over and touched hers, the porcelain skin warm from the water. She started and looked up from the bowl, her lovely grey eyes bright in delight. Lissi’s lips opened for speech, yet the words lingered on her tongue. Carthor gently raised his finger deftly to her soft lips and with much effort pulled himself upright enough to place a delicate kiss on their supple curve. Lissi sat upon her haunches, quite shocked at this tender change in her stone hard husband.

“I thought I’d lost you,” Carthor said gently. “You and my boys.”

“Where are they? Are they safe? What of Brander??” The questions that had been plaguing Carthor rolled like waves from his heart.

“They are quite safe. Those two are no braggarts, and looked after their mother well. They are both now helping the men prepare, the king has addressed us.” Lissi’s voice had softened from the usual strength it held when directed at her husband, and her face seemed tired and worn and she said no more.

A short period of time passed where neither of them spoke, Carthor just reveling in her presence, Lissi looking around the large stone hall with interest. Neither saying what was on their mind.

Part of Carthor’s organized mind longed to fill in the events that he had missed – how had he got to the North Downs stronghold, a place he had been on two previous occasions? Who was responsible for his rescue? What had happened to the rest of the Vanguard? How close was the enemy behind them? Where would the people go now, for surely this was no better a place than Fornost?

Instead, he just laid his head in the lap of his beautiful wife, quieted his mind and gave his swimming head a rest. Lissi bent down and placed a beautifully soft kiss on his furrowed forehead and his eyes fell closed. Carthor escaped into the soothing quiet of dreamless sleep.