An End to the Endless Sleep

[TreeFolk]

@DragonSong

In the pub of a sleepy village tucked within the Thunderblacks a Bard began his telling of one of the many legends of Sigurd the Valiant, a hero of old Adela noted across the land. His audience sat solemnly listening, for rumors were spreading across the Thunderblacks that a blood witch had begun to terrorize the villages and towns, stealing children from their beds and leading hunters and warriors astray.

"Centuries ago and deep within the isolated reaches of the Thunderblacks, the Hero Sigurd the Valliant traversed the great mountains in search of the Blood Witch Ylva. While men, gods, and dragons waged wars across the land of Adela, the Witch Ylva spent her time in pursuit of the destruction of the land and its people. No Adelan was safe during this dark time, and the kingdom of Adela faced an uncertain future. Babes were stolen from their cribs, innocent children and pure youths wandered and were lost forever, warriors fell to great disease or untimely deaths.

The only heroes to oppose her were the demi-gods Sigurd the Valiant and his brothers Eluf the Honorable and Stigr the Cunning. Great and fearsome were the brothers three, whose battle axes knew not of failure.

It was not until a day when Stigr and Eluf were reveling in a recent victory that they fell to the foul devises of the Witch Ylva, who appeared to them as a beautiful maid and made herself available to them. It was then that she turned Stigr and Eluf into the black winged Ravens, and it is said to this day that it is Eluf and Stigr who are present when we see two ravens present.

And so Sigurd, determined to end the terrible reign of the Blood Witch and to return his brothers to their rightful bodies, traversed deep into the Thunderblacks in search of the witch. He defeated a great many terrible beasts along the way until he reached a strange valley, where the rivers ran with blood and the leaves bled when plucked from the trees. It was then that he knew he had reached the valley of the Blood Witch, and when he looked up to the mountain above he could see a terrible spire where the witch resided.

Sigurd made camp to prepare himself for the upcoming battle, gathering his strength and sharpening his great battle axe.

But the Witch Ylva, too, was preparing herself for battle. She knew something that Sigurd himself did not know. She knew the only way to incapacitate Sigurd was to convince him to ingest something taken from the ancient, sacred tree beneath which he was conceived by the great battlemaiden Ida and the demi-god Cuyler.

In the night, Ylva sent her minions disguised as Sigurd's brothers Eluf and Stigr with a cup made of the wood from the tree. Stigr offered the cup to Sigurd, telling his brother that they had escaped the witch's curse to help Sigurd defeat her. Sigurd drank from the cup, choking on the waters as he watched his brothers' likenesses shift into the foul minions of the witch, falling into an endless sleep."

The Bard waited while his audience gasped and waited wide-eyed, totally enraptured and awaiting the ending they all knew would come from countless retellings of the tale:

"But the witch did not know that one must fully kill Sigurd, and to kill Sigurd he must fully ingest a part of the tree. Sigurd only drank the essence of the tree, you see, and so he only fell into a sleep. The price for failing to kill Sigurd was that the Witch Ylva herself lost all of her powers, wasting away into near nothingness... Near.

It has been foretold that there will come a time when the Witch Ylva will return to the land to finish its destruction and that at this time Sigurd must be awakened to defeat the witch with the help of a noble warrior. Sigurd will only be awakened if a noble warrior finds his resting place and destroys the cup from which he drank, which is said to still be clutched in his sleeping hand, only to be removed by the noble warrior.

The mood in the room darkened as the Bard leaned forward, clutching his own cup tightly like the hero of the tale. He lowered his voice and leaned forward:

"And now there are rumors spreading that the Blood Witch Ylva has begun her return to power in the Thunderblacks... We should only hope that the Hero Sigurd will be reawakened soon."

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Outside the pub in the gray drizzle of the darkening evening, a pair of ravens swooped down into the village to perch outside the pub, awaiting the appearance of the man they would lead deep into the Thunderblacks to awaken the sleeping hero.

[DragonSong]

Seated in the back of the pub, tucked away in a small, shadowed corner, Eli sipped his drink and listened to the bard's tale with a small smile. It wasn't the first time he'd heard a story of Sigurd- just about every Adelan child knew the name- but he had to admit the way it was told now was quite compelling.

He'd never considered himself a particularly superstitious man, but even he had to admit to a small shiver that ran down his spine as the tale was completed.

Elyan didn't believe the witch had returned, not really. But he had traveled enough to know that at least part of what the bard said was true- strange things had been happening in the Thunderblacks, and blood magic wasn't an entirely far-fetched caused.

Maybe they all really would be better off if someone woke Sigurd.

Chuckling to himself, the werewolf stood and tossed a few coins onto the table he'd been using, wrapping his cloak around himself and making for the door of the pub as inconspicuously as possible. If he shifted, he could make it to the next town before dawn, probably, as long as he started moving now.

He paused outside of the establishment and glanced around with a wide yawn that showed a flash of just-a-bit--too-long canines. Squinting against the ever increasing onslaught of rain, he peered into the graying evening in an attempt to get his bearings.

And suddenly chuckled quietly to himself. Two ravens were perched not far from the door to the pud. He shook his head with a small smirk. Of course. He eyed the pair of black birds with rather disproportionate amusement. "You two come to hear the story?" he asked, voice low and gruff as his eyes glinted with soft humor.

Maybe he should have laid off the ale a bit.

[TreeFolk]

The ravens hopped along the fenceline they were perched on, tilting their heads as if appraising the man before them and looking to one another. They began to caw, croak, and call at one another in the wide array of raven vocalizations, as if in conversation, before the smaller and darker of the pair picked something shining from beneath its talons and held it in its beak.

With the glittering object, the raven swooped over to the man and dropped it at his feet before perching closer to him. The raven stared at the man and then at the object several times over, as if willing the man to pick it up to examine it. The other bird flew over and landed on the ground, hopping forward and pushing the object closer to the man with its beak before looking up at him and giving him an impatient caw.

When Elyan picked up the object, he would find himself holding a very old broach. He would just barely be able to make out the symbol of a great green and black dragon, though the colors were badly faded and chipped. The symbol of Sigurd.

When Elyan was done looking at the broach, he would find one of the ravens looking intently up at him, ready to direct his attention to its brother that was perched on a post, facing rather purposefully in the direction of the wilder reaches of the Thunderblacks. The smaller raven would turn its attention from the mountains to stare directly at Elyan, cawing, before flying to the next post closer in the direction, willing Elyan to follow it.

[DragonSong]

Utterly bemused, Elyan bent to pick up the broach and examine it. His eyes widened and he blinked, then turned the thing over and over in his hands.

"There's just no way," he muttered to himself, glancing from the old bit of jewelry to the pair of ravens. It seemed like they wanted him to...follow them?

"This is impossible." He shook his head, but found himself taking a hesitant step forward as he tucked the broach absently into the pocket of his trousers. Wary, he sniffed the air.

Well, they smelled like...ordinary ravens. What the hell was going on?

"Alright." He folded his arms with a glare at the birds. "If you're some sort of shapeshifters or fae creatures or...whatever, show yourselves now. I promise you, I'm the last guy you wanna pull one of your little tricks on."

[TreeFolk]

The smaller raven cawed irritably, flying to yet another post in the direction it had indicated and cawed again at him. The larger bird, seemingly more patient, did its best to draw an arrow in the dirt with its beak.

Growing impatient, the smaller bird flew back towards Elyan and deftly untied Elyan's cloak. The larger bird joined it, and together they picked the cloak up and flew it just far enough out of Elyan's reach so that he could not grab hold of it.

They finally stopped when they had reached an old stone bridge just outside of the town, a bridge that had not been used for hundreds of years since Sigurd had crossed it to enter the wild reaches of the Thunderblacks. If he was brave enough, Elyan would step across the dilapidated bridge to where the ravens dropped the cloak. Beneath the cloak lay a scroll, and within the scroll was an ancient map written in Old Adelan depicting a route into the heart of the mountain range. At its heart was drawn a valley, and in the center of the valley was the symbol of a sleeping green and black dragon.

When he was finished looking at the map, he would find that the two ravens were perched on the opposing columns at the far side of the bridge. One turned towards the mountains and one staring directly at him.

[DragonSong]

"Hey, what the- hey!"

Grumbling and muttering to himself, Elyan set off after the birds with a sour look. "Damn feathered rats," he mumbled, breaking into a steady lope. "Found a bit of sparkle and suddenly I'm seeing all sort of-"

He stopped when the bird flew over the bridge, eyes widening slightly. He knew this bridge- it was this tiny mountain village's claim to fame, if the stories were true.

Were they? Sure, Eli had believed in the legends as a child, but in recent years the idea of some legendary hero just seemed to convenient to be true. Still...

"I must be out of my mind," he muttered, and crossed the bridge. "If I had a bow right now, I'd be roasting raven for dinner," he said loudly in the birds' direction as he bent to collect his cloak. His eyes lit on the map and his jaw just about dropped.

Okay. This was all way too much to just be a coincidence.

"You." He waved the map toward the ravens. "You want me to follow this, don't you?"

[TreeFolk]

The raven facing the mountains turned its head to look at Elyan when he asked his question, taking to the air and flying in the direction indicated on the map. The other bird remained circling overhead to ensure that Elyan did not lose his way, swooping down to prevent him from taking any wrong turns.

Further along his journey stranger coincidences would occur. He would come across stones in the shape of slain giants, or pass caves where weedling whispers could be heard. Somehow, any time that he would find himself in need of food or shelter, the ravens would provide some. They would lead him to protected caves, to giant hollow trees eerily similar to those the tales mentioned Sigurd resting in, or they would bring him berries and roast meats from unknown locations.

As he grew closer to his destination he would come across a small clearing in the woods, the circular pattern of trees around the clearing purposeful. In the middle of the clearing lay an old piece of flint, lying there as if willing him to take it to burn the wooden cup of the legend.

[DragonSong]

Elyan was half convinced he was undergoing some prolonged hallucination of some sort as he followed the ravens deeper into the mountains. He couldn't quite explain why he was even doing it, he just...was. For some reason he felt like he should.

As they led him into the clearing with the flint, he looked around warily before bending to examine it, then pick it up carefully.

"You want me to...start a fire?" he guessed, looking at the ravens. Even though they never actually answered him, he'd gotten into the habit of speaking to them as though they could over the last few days.

[TreeFolk]

The smaller bird cawed, as if to say, Almost, before flying to the opposite end of the clearing and flying through a curtain of hanging ivy. Once he followed he'd find himself at the base of old, moss-covered stone steps leading upwards.

At the top of the steps opened a large, cold, silent valley seemingly devoid of life. Not a breeze stirred nor a bird chirped, and even the dark red waters of the streams were still and frozen. If he stopped long enough to test the waters, he would find himself capable of walking across them.

The smaller raven flew to the center of the valley and perched itself on what appeared to be a wooden cup nestled on a lumpy patch of moss. The raven pecked at the wooden cup with its beak, though the form beneath the moss was not evident in the least. It seemed as if the cup alone was there.

As the smaller raven pecked at the cup and looked at him, the larger raven made a point to direct his attention to the flint, both trying to show him that he needed to take the cup and burn it. When Elyan would try to pull the cup from the moss, he would find it just a little resistant before it would dislodge.

[DragonSong]

They must be some witch's familiars or something. That was the only explanation that made any amount of sense.

Still, somehow Eli found himself kneeling by the patch of moss in this bizarre, timeless valley, reaching for the cup. He tugged at it cautiously, found it held firm, glanced at the birds, then tugged again with a little more force.

Thankfully this time it came loose. He looked from the ravens to the flint and cup he now held. "You want me to burn this," he said blandly. "Like in the story."

With a sigh, he sat back and laid both flint and cup on the ground in front of him, shaking his head. "I must be out of my mind," he muttered as he pulled some tried leaves and twigs together to make a piling of kindling.

Even as he worked, he kept casting glances at the birds. It was crazy, it really was, but...

"Eluf?" he said cautiously, not sure if he really expected any sort of answer or not. "Stigr?"

[TreeFolk]

The birds seemed to talk to one another when he finally called them by their names, flying down to the ground in front of the small fire he was preparing. Their eyes seemed eager, and one hopped excitedly and released a triumphant caw when the first flames licked at the cup.

The cup itself at first seemed resistant to the flames, and it took an unnaturally long time for it to actually catch fire. When it did, though, a dark cloud overtook the valley and a low, gravelly groan could be heard from the mountains. The entire valley seemed to be holding its breath until skies broke open and unleashed a heavy rain. A lightning bolt clapped down out of the sky, cracking the cup apart and disintegrating it instantaneously.

It was then that the mossy knoll from which the cup had been taken began to move, though with the rest of the valley coming suddenly to life it might not come to his attention at first. The ravens took off, circling overhead erratically as they cawed and jeered.

--------
Sigurn opened her eyes to find herself completely enmeshed in moss that seemed to grow all around her, to have grown into her. Tearing wildly at the moss, she ripped it from her throat and her nose and let out a terrible roar of rage. Thinking that the witch had somehow anticipated her arrival and set up an enchantment, Sigurn was entirely unaware of the time that had passed since she had last been conscious. Entirely unaware that she had fallen from drinking from a cup made of the wood of the tree beneath which she had been conceived.

All she knew was that she was on her way to vanquish the witch and save her brothers and the people of Adela.

Her muscles screamed and creaked and groaned like a long unused old door as she rose up and hacked away at the strangling moss. As she emerged from her prison into the storm, her eyes spotted the two ravens overhead. She called to them, voice rough and gravelly from misuse, "Brothers!"

The ravens swooped down and perched on either of her shoulders, the armor she was wearing rusted through and covered in moss and lichen. It was then that she spotted a large form just a stones throw away, and she reached for her crossbow... Only to find its wood rotten and crumbling beneath her fingers. Only her axe, of all things, remained as it had been all those hundreds of years ago, hewn as it had been by the gods themselves and given to her as a reward for her many feats.

Eyes full of justified rage, Sigurn assumed the man kneeling by a now damp and smoking pile of wood had been sent by the witch. Disoriented and weak as she was, Sigurn still managed to grip her axe, preparing to throw it at the man to have it lodge into his skull. Just as she was about to release it, Eluf, the larger of the ravens, dug his talons into her hand and forced her to drop her weapon. "What is this, brother?" She growled out, bending to pick the axe up again. Eluf struck out at her, and she could not bring herself to bat him away.

The ruffling of wings brought her attention about as she saw Stigr fly away. Rising up slowly, she watched as Stigr flew to perch on Elyan's shoulder, seemingly trusting the man. Gripping the hilt of her axe, Sigurn stood to her full height and addressed the man in a deep, gravelly voice. "You there, man. I do not know how or why you have come to the valley of the great Blood Witch Ylva, but my brothers seem to think you friend and not foe. As such, I advise you to leave this place at once. The witch Ylva does not show mercy to the friends of my brothers or myself, and I should hate to see you perish at her hands before I vanquish her."

[DragonSong]

At first Elyan felt rather foolish. He wasn't sure what he'd expected to happen, he was just burning a cup.

Then the world seemed to explode around him and he tried to scramble back, only to land on his rear, staring with wide eyes and completely frozen with a combination of shock and fear as a figure emerged from the pile of moss.

The birds had responded to the names he'd called them- Eluf and Stigr, the brothers of Sigurd.

Except the figure that seemed to spring from the earth was distinctly female, despite her height and armor, and apparent aggression. Eli finally seemed to unfreeze and skittered back a bit when she raised her ax, then paused as one of the ravens perched on his shoulder.

He tossed the bird a quick look, then flicked his eyes back to the woman. "You- but- Ylva- what- I'm not- what?!"

[TreeFolk]

Sigurn slowed her speech down, thinking that perhaps the man was a simpleton or perhaps so afraid for his life that he could not form a rational thought. Mortals were often easily frightened and confused. "I, Sigurn Idasdotter, have come to vanquish the great Blood Witch Ylva. You, man, have somehow had the misfortune of finding yourself in her valley of death. I should escort you back to your people, but I fear that Adela is in great peril if I stray from my path now."

She ignored the way that her rusted armor seemed to crack and fall away from her as she hefted the great axe upon her shoulder. "Now that I have escaped her first enchantment, I must climb that great mountain and bury the blade of my axe deep into her wicked skull. Should you still be alive after my victory, I shall return here and see you safely homeward. Rest assured, I shall not fail."

"Stigr, Eluf, come, we shall see you made whole once more."

Sigurn began walking in the direction of the mountain, though she slowed her steps as Eluf swooped in front of her in an attempt to divert her path back towards the man. Sigurn glared at her brother, walking determinedly past him. "I do not know the meaning of your attempts to slow my steps, brother, but rest assured I shall be victorious as we have always been. I shall not rest until the witch has been punished for her great misdeeds against you and the people of Adela." She did not realize just how ironic her choice of words were, for she had been resting for hundreds of years.

[DragonSong]

Oh boy.

This was really not good.

"Yeah, uh...hey, lady!" Elyan scrambled to his feet and started to trot after her. REalizing "hey lady" might not be the most respectful way to address a legendary hero- was that was she was? Really? Dear gods he was so confused- he tried to amend to, "I mean, ah...Sigurn? Hold on a second."

He fell into step beside her, then attempted to swing around and stand in front of her. Dear gods she was tall, taller than most of the women he was used to dealing with.

"Look, I think you might be a little...confused. You, er- you've been...asleep?" he ventured slowly.

[TreeFolk]

At first she simply walked passed him, bumping heavily into his shoulder. If he wished to follow her, then so be it, but she did not intend to let him get in the way of her mission.

What did make her pause was what he said as he managed to step in front of her. This time, instead of shoving past him, she stopped and barked out a laugh. "Asleep?!" She laughed incredulously, but the laughter began to die from her lips as she looked around herself. Though the valley seemed pretty much the same as it had been before, the mountains around the valley looked slightly different.

A thread of dread coiled around her heart, cold and heavy. "Asleep..." She said again as she looked down at her armor, rusting apart, and then to her brothers who were solemnly watching her. "Surely not..." She said beneath her breath, though the belief was beginning to settle in her.

"No..." She shoved passed the man again with enough force to knock him off his feet as she marched to the base of the mountain, taking her great axe and swinging it with great might into the mountain. A deep, cavernous sound could be heard as first a small crack appeared, and then began to rapidly widen... Something that could not have happened if the witch was still in residence. "NO!" She roared, her rage great as she heaved the axe up again and buried it deep into the mountain a second time. This time the mountain cracked and groaned, giving way beneath her axe to crack in half.

Panting in her anger, she turned and strode back to the man who seemed to know more of what had transpired than she did herself. "How long?" She growled out, her fist tightening around the handle of her axe. "How long have I been asleep?"

[DragonSong]

Well shit. Now he'd gone and made her angry. Great job, Eli.

The werewolf took an instinctive step back from her anger, the animal in him recognizing her power and trying to get out of the way. "I-I don't know!" he stammered, raising his hands in a universal gesture of peace. "A long time, I don't know...exactly..."

He let out a sharp breath and rubbed at the back of his neck. This was not going to be easy. How was he supposed to break this to her. "Um. A couple hundred years, I think..."

Huh. Just blurt it out, apparently. He glanced to the ravens helplessly. They were her brothers, right? Shouldn't they be helping out with this?

Oh gods. He had to be dreaming or something, there was just no way this was real.

[TreeFolk]

"A couple.. hundred years." Sigurn felt a swell of anger burning in her chest, anger at the countless years wasted, anger towards herself for failing her brother and the people of Adela, anger at the witch and her trickery. Fire engulfed her clenched fists, lighting in her golden eyes, her body tense.

Eluf landed on her shoulder again, digging his talons into her shoulders and cawing loudly in her ear. The pain was just enough to bring her back into control. She took in a deep, sharp breath and closed her eyes, the muscles in her jaw jumping as she clenched it, "Yes, brother, I know."

She released one more deep, laborious breath before opening her eyes again, the fire gone out. "You will tell me what has transpired since then. Everything you know about the witch, my brothers, and I. And how you came by the information of my whereabouts." She looked around the valley, swinging the axe up onto her shoulder once more. "But first, we shall leave this accursed valley." Her stomach emmitted a growl loud enough to sound like a lion's roar. "As well as food and ale." 

[DragonSong]

"Er, see, I'm not sure I'm really the person to-"

Remembering that power in her, the fire and anger, he decided not to finish that thought. "Um...okay. I can do that." He glanced around. "But yeah, I'd love to get out of this place, like now."

He looked to the raven on her shoulder, then the one on his. "You guys gonna play guide again? Cause I'm not entirely sure where the closest town is."

[TreeFolk]

"I know of a place." She said, walking in the opposite direction than where he'd come. "Best ale and whiskey you can find in this mountain range! It is a remote place run by the dwarves, the only race brave or foolish enough not to fear the witch."

Sigurn's limbs that had cracked and groaned in protestation at the beginning of their journey began to loosen as they walked. Her stiff movements became fluid, powerful, purposeful. No mortal man would have been able to keep up with her, but she suspected that Elyan was not entirely mortal. By the look of him, he might have been just a large, well-built man... But Sigurn doubted that.

It did not take as long as it should have to cross the distance to the dwarf town, though her feet slowed as they neared it. The cobble stones beneath their feet were coated in lichen and moss,a good indicator that none had walked the path in good long while. When they reached a bridge, the mountain stream that had once been so plentiful was now dry. Sigurn walked into the stream bed, pushing aside a man-sized boulder to check beneath it for any signs of water. None.

Without speaking to Elyan, she climbed up the other side of the creek bed and entered the town which was empty... No signs of life or past signs of life were evident. The only sign of what had happened was an ancient dwarf ruin carved into the door of the great hall. Sigurn ran her hand over it, "The witch was here."

Sigurn pushed the doors to the great hall open, mood sour and stomach empty. "Stigr. Eluf. Fetch us some food, water." The ravens flew off. She walked over to the barrels of ale and whiskey, tapping into one only to have yeasty dust pour out. She moved to a whiskey barrel, tapped it, and tasted the liquid that came out. She grabbed up two mugs, filling them up before closing off the barrel. She easily held both in one hand, her other pick up two chairs and setting them down beside a fire pit. Coal and ancient wood sat covered in dust in the pit which she lit it up with her hand and sat the mugs down. She nodded towards the mugs, "Drink up."

Sigurn began stripping off her rusted armor, down to moss-stained clothing, before sitting down heavily on the stool with her own mug of whiskey in her hands. She barely acknowledged her brothers as they returned with two fish and clumps of berries, setting the fish on top of the fire.

After some time, she addressed the man, turning her sharp eyes on him. "Before you tell me of what you know of the witch, tell me what you call yourself. Both your given name and what race you are, for no mortal man would keep pace with me." She took a healthy swig of the whiskey, gulping it down like water.

[DragonSong]

Elyan was considerably stronger and heartier than a human, but even he had trouble keeping up with the legendary warrior. He did his best not to let it show, though he knew he would have been much more comfortable with her pace in his wolf form.

He kept quiet, for the most part, particularly as they neared the now obviously abandoned town. He had a feeling Sigurn was working through some stuff in her head. It had to be pretty shocking to wake after a few centuries and find the world as you knew it had changed around you.

Taking the mug she offered, he perched rather warily in one of the chairs. What was he still doing here? If he had any sense he would make some excuse to the woman and be on his way- he didn't want to get mixed up in gods and heroes and all their nonsense.

Still, Eli watched her carefully, unmoving. He started slightly when she demanded to know what he was, but tried to hide the reaction as quickly as he could. "Name's Elyan," he answered quietly. His voice, naturally gravelly, took on a whole new roughness when he lowered it. "Eli, mostly." He tilted his head at her. "I'm...a shifter. A werewolf."