The Long, Frozen Road [open!]

[Tally]

Lorin took a good, long look at the soaring mountains between himself and the Connlaoth boarder.  He slumped against a tree, defeated before he'd even set foot upon the trail leading up into the pass.

He couldn't say how long it had taken him to free himself from the endless reaches of the tundra.  Weeks, he was certain, but it could have been anywhere from a month to three months.  The days of begging, negotiating, and buying his way from one hunting caravan to another all ran together into a misery of never-ending cold and hunger.

He was still not even halfway home.

The mountains seemed too impossible, even with half a day of sunlight yet to burn through.  Lorin found a tumble of boulders just off the trail and got out of the wind.  It looked like this may be his camp site until tomorrow.

[Glimmeringpearl]

The former mordecai was stumbling on through the trails now, his armor clanking loudly as he rummaged across the rocks to climb into the mountains, hoping to find a cave. It was beginning to get chilly now and he knew the need for shelter was becoming more and more urgent. Nicholas Lovet had never been one to leave out into the wilderness but he was surely a survivor.

He continued his climb in his full mordecai gear with a malicious sword on his back.

[Tally]

It was boredom that set Lorin back on the trail.  He'd never been the type who could sit about and do nothing, and he'd rather try his luck with the mountain than be idle.

It wasn't exactly silent.  This place wasn't as desolate as the tundra.  He was deep in the mountain forests and the sounds of animal life followed him as he ascended.  Plenty of birdsong, occasionally the distant howls of wolves, rustling in the underbrush and in the trees—and something else.

Metal.  Armor perhaps, but echoing so that Lorin couldn't tell if it came from behind or in front of him.  He turned in a slow circle, unsure if he should call out and risk one of his enemies finding him.  It could be anyone out here.

[Glimmeringpearl]

Nick stumbled on the last step and fell onto his stomach against the rocks, giving a roar of pain but it was dulled down by the sheer weight of his exhaustion. He turned over, pulling off his helmet and gasping for air, the sweat caked thickly on his scruffy neck and chin, wet on his forehead. He lay there on his back against the rocks, gasping for air. He'd been walking for miles now and the cool air lulled him into staying put. "My kingdom for a stream..." He whispered, breathless and husky. He had water but in limited supply, a precious resource he did not want to waste. But oh, how his muscles ached! They screams of their exhaustion and their dehydration. He groaned with their burning and touched the could metal on his glove to his forehead.

[Tally]

A cry rent the air, made Lorin jump.  That was a cry of pain!  He ran off in the direction of the sound, knowing it was foolish even as he sought it out.  With the echoes it was impossible to know exactly where it came from—he could only hope he'd chosen right.

He only made it so far before he lost track of where he was going.  Without any other noise to guide him, he hadn't the faintest idea where that sound had come from now.

He turned about but could see no one.  It was a risk, but he had to call out.  "Who's there?"

[Glimmeringpearl]

The mordecai scrambled to his feet, drawing his sword... Wrong sword. He swore that the magic sword switched sides in order to be the one first pulled. He could feel it pulse in his palm, a vehement malice that seeped cold into Nicholas' heart. He hated this sword and he swore it would someday claim him... And he hoped to Ansgar himself that he would take down the bastard that did this with him. He sheathed the sword again. "Who goes there? I am Nicholas. Nicholas Lovet. Show yourself." He called out into the woods, breathing heavily. He would have to rely on craftiness alone, lest the blade cause him to slaughter an innocent man.

[Tally]

Now there was a sound he recognized—the hiss of a blade leaving its sheath.  It sent him backing away toward the cover of the trees, but a moment later the sound came again, with the telling clack of a pommel hitting its scabbard.  The sounds had come from behind a tumble of house-sized boulders on the opposite side of the trail.

Lorin eased forward step by step.  The voice that spoke sounded pained, and winded.  Lorin had no weapon, but he felt reasonably able to deal with a wounded man, save one thing—a curious nausea had come over him.  Light, but it made his limbs feel watery, weak.

As he rounded the last boulder, giving it a wide circle, they came within sight of each other.  Lorin stopped there.  "Hale, stranger.  Are you injured?"

[Glimmeringpearl]

"I am not! But I do require water. Have you any?" Asks the thirty-year old man, calling out in a husky voice. He wished he hadn't had to don all this armor... It was hot and sticky in the metal suit now, from running in some spots and just humidity in others. But up here was cold and soon the sweat would dry and become a grimy stiffness on his skin.

He sighed and grunted, rolling his shoulder in aching.

[Tally]

Lorin hesitated, neither approaching nor fleeing, his hand resting on his water skin.  It was his only one, but it wasn't fear of losing it that kept him back.  There was plenty of snow higher up that he could use to refill the skin.  It was mistrust that held him in place.

It wasn't enough to hold him back for long.  He couldn't leave the man in this state, no matter the threat.  Lorin sighed, and pulled the water skin from his belt.

"Yes."  He came only a close as he needed to to hand the water over, and he braced to flee at the first hint of deception.

[Tally]

Lorin gave the man what he needed, and continued on.

His path would take him up the mountain now, with little relief from the steep upward slope.  Even with the shade of the dense trees, he had to stop after only an hour.

Leaning against a jutting cliff face, the dark yawn of a cave caught his eye.

It proved to be smallish—he would have had to stoop to enter.  It was nearly hidden from view by brush and low-hanging tree branches, but as he drew close something stopped him.  A simple gold coin lay at the entrance.  Even close, and he could see that it was of a quality only a nobleman would hope to have.  That one coin would feed a peasant family for months.

He squinted into the cave.  Nary a few feet in, impenetrable darkness overtook the cave, but the faint glint of another coin reflected the light, just visible.  Like a trail.  Like a lure.

Lorin shivered and backed away.

[TheHighwayman]

"Somewhat obvious for a trap, isn't it? Almost makes me want to have a look inside just to see who was dumb enough to lay it... almost." Lerrok stepped around the tree he'd been hiding behind. "I've been hunting out here for days, and I've not seen hide or hair of whatever is responsible."

The man looked in good enough straits. He didn't seem worried about getting some shelter for the night, for one. For another, he had at least three weapons on him- an arming sword, a dagger, and a bow with a quiver of arrows. The poacher ran a hand through his hair and pulled his coat closer about him. He trudged right up next to Lorin and peered inside the cave. "Not a clue."

The Connlaothian stepped back and looked the stranger up and down. "You look like you've had a rough time of it out here. I've got some venison back at my camp, if you need a bite to eat. Far be it from me to leave another man out in the cold." Lerrok seemed honest enough, if a little unbalanced by running into another solitary traveler out there.

[Tally]

Lorin jumped at the voice.  It came not from the cave, but from even closer.  How long had this man been here, watching him?

The weapons bristling about the man's person did nothing to ease the rapid beating of Lorin's heart.  He nearly took to flight when the man walked right up next to him, but he didn't seem much interested in giving Lorin trouble.  All his attention was on the cave—as well it should be.  Whatever lived here bore them malice.

Lorin nodded.  Whatever scare this man had given him, he offered help and Lorin would have to take him at his word.  He was so proficient at reading people at court and yet, out here, everyone he met remained a mystery to him.  His own drastic displacement had him doubting his every instinct.

"Thank you, that...that would be a great help to me."

[TheHighwayman]

Lerrok turned and headed off towards his camp. "Follow me then, it's not far."  He pushed towards a thick section of brush, and within two or three minutes of walking led the other man to a large dip in the ground- about ten yards wide and twenty across, with the slope down being about seven feet tall. Within it was the camp- just a simple fire pit and bedroll. "Here we are- the wind isn't half as bad down here."

Lerrok stirred at the fading embers in the pit until the fire began to blaze back to life. Oddly enough, there was already a pot hung above it, filled with water, meat, and a small assortment of whatever else Lerrok had thought to throw in at the time. "I was making some stew when I heard something over there," he said, gesturing towards the direction they'd just come from. "Don't know what, but I figured it might have been our mysterious cave-dwelling friend. Thought I'd have a look." Once everything was once again to the poacher's satisfaction, he sat down.

"The name is Lerrok, by the way. What brings you out here?"

[Tally]

Lorin could do little but follow, mistrust or no.  He couldn't stay here, and he needed help.  If that help came at a risk, then so be it.

They traveled off the path, far enough and long enough that Lorin wasn't sure he'd be able to find the trail again on his own.  Eventually they came to a little hollow in the ground, well-sheltered from the wind.  Lorin hovered about while the other man tended his camp then joined him awkwardly by the fire.

"I am Lorin, of Serendipity.  Thank you for your help, it is most gracious of you."