Firiona Vie Everquest

Stormfollower gathered his cloak around his shoulders to ward off the harshly cold winds and blowing ice. No creature besides himself and his team of sled dogs could be seen amidst the mid winter storm that now raged across the frosty plains of his homeland. As he drew ever closer to the great pass that led to Halas the message he bore gave weight to his tracks. A message of hope.
An alliance had been forged with the men of the south and tenuouse as it was it brought fire to his heart. He would share the news with the elders in his clan and they in turn would take the news to the other clans. Before too long the sumoning drums would reach a fever pitch and all the north would be ablaze with talk of preparations for the inevidable conflict, Storfollower knew what was coming and he would explain this too. He had seen the omens, one after another pointing there abiguouse fingers towards the same stern conclusion...War, bloody and broad would soon sweep across the lands.
The spirits were restless and they called out to the shaman with increasing lucidity for justice, no longer could he sit idly by and allow the spread of evil. The spirits demanded action of him yet the alliance reqested restraint. Restraint and silence; for thier numbers were still few. This silence kept wore on Stormfollower like the waves of a tempest raveged sea. But he kept it still...yet for how long he began to wonder.
A distant wolf howled against the storm and the northmans heart ached to howl too.

Several months had passed since that fateful day before the council of clans yet still the harsh words of the council head echoed in Stormfollowers mind.
"Prove to us their resolve Stormfollower! Prove that their hearts are true. Until then our answer remains no. We shall not risk the lives of our clans in a war that no others have the will to win"
He had been arguing long with the other members of the council to convince them that alliance shared his hope, but once the council head spoke the matter was considered closed until the next audience could be gained.
So with heavy heart he had returned to the alliance. He had spoken no word of the refusal to any there. Refused by his own people, how could he hope to keep the alliance from despairing?
Now he rode towards the sacred aspen grove wherein he would embark on a dream quest to find the answers that he had hoped would come in the months since that fateful day in Halas. Towards the aspen grove through a light snowfall he rode on Heusfall. She loved the grove and seemed to realize where they were going now that they were so close and walked without being directed, stopping less frequently to paw the snow for some hidden sprig on which to snack.
Suddenly her ears shot back and she turned her head down the path they had come. Stormfollower turned to look also but he saw only a raven ruffling its feathers against the cool breeze.
"Easy Heusfall, Tis only mother raven. and thow hast no apples to worry about her for." He smiled a little and urged his trusty stead onward. But it was not like her to be spooked by trifling noises. He knew she sensed it now too. They were being followed.
He had become aware of the "presence" earlier in the day just after breaking camp. A faint mist had been crawling aimlessly up the stream by which they traveled and on it the faint smell of a fire was born. Stormfollower had found the night mild enough to forgo his usual campfire so whoever was following them was not used to these temperate woods.
They normally would have expected to reach the grove by noon the following day but Stormfollower intended to slow his pace to determine if they were simply being followed by a curious being or hunted by a malevolent one. Time would tell, but for now his mind was still too full of the echoes of the clan elders and wonder about what answer his dream quest would reveal.
"The aspens await Heusfall, and I am sure your old friend Hesufell shall be their too" Heusfalls ears perked up at the mention of the owls name and her pace quickened a bit perhaps forgetting the follower for the moment.
Stormfollower smiled again and began to sing quietly, the sound wafting through the trees and over the snow like the music of a deep base flute to find the ears of many of the forests fauna that did not hibernate and to the ears of one who followed still the easy trail the horse and rider left in the fresh fallen snow.
Close enough to hear but still too far to see, their follower stopped for a moment to listen to the song in amazement, its words were indistinguishable at this distance but the tone was unmistakable... the song seamed to be one of determination...its singer still held hope.

The snow dinted softly beneath his feet as Stormfollower now lead Heusfall through the woods towards the sacred grove. But now his aim was slightly to one side of his ultimate goal. The full moon aproached and he still had the sweat lodge to build before his dream quest could begin. He did not wish to lead his persuer directly to the grove nor to point a way to it for he would be quite vulneable in his dream state and he would not want its sanctity to be defiled after he left. Better that he should allow himself to be caught up to before they reached the aspen grove near the sea so he could confront this being and have it done with. But as the time of his arival there grew closer and no persuer showed itself he grew impatient and now actively searched the forest behind him for signs of movement.
Nothing could be decerned and the forest was silent. At the end of the trail he had reached the shores of the great sea having passed the grove a few minutes before to the south and by a stones throw. The sun was high in its arc across the sky and he was confronted by two sights that caught him by suprise. The first was a huge herd of mamoths, larger than he had ever witnessed, heading towards him along the beach still some 2 miles to the north and the second was a bold set of bootprints in the sand no more than a stones throw away, heading directly back into the wood towards the sacred aspen grove.

Storm scratched his head as he pondered the tracks in the sand before him. It was certain they headed towards the sacred grove but he was not sure to whom they belonged. Had they been of a great size they would have easily been ascribed to one of the other shaman of wolf tribe but these were small, seemingly human and possibly female by there even spacing. It was hard to tell for Stormfollower as he was not the great tracker his uncle Oxbalm was.

He bade the horse by his side to enjoy the salty lichens of the coast while he went to explore the grove, and because he wasn’t an animal speaker either he could not tell weather Heusfell understood him exactly or not but he knew enough of a horses demeanor to tell that his trusty friend would stay there but only reservedly so.

He walked slowly and silently into the forest towards the grove. Stopping once he was safely in the embrace the cover that the trees provided he listened towards the grove that lay only a short distance from the beach.. All was at first silent but for the muffled sound of falling flora and the occasional buried stirring of some nearly boring hibernation. His first thought was of ambush until the smoky “whoot” of an own came wafting down from some branches high in the groves circle of aspen trees.

"Hesufel!* Stormfollower whispered excitedly. Hesufel the owl, not to be confused with Heusfell the horse. had lived in the grove for as long as Storm or his ancestral knowledge could remember. His sight instantly flashed to that of the owls’ lofty view.

What he saw then would forever be etched upon his mind as the most radiant of all first meetings. Sat gracefully on a rock a barely adult drakkin female brushed her gleaming golden hair and hummed wistfully to herself, caught in the first rays to rise above the owls, perch. Her skin too gleamed with golden hues in the leaf dappled daylight.
Like a regal lioness she proudly coaxed her countenance into fiery display.

Stormfollower was in awe. He sat for many moments and admired the view. There was only one other that he deemed more beautiful than this drakkin girl, but until this moment none other had come this close to her wan and mortal face. It was amazing how quickly he could see the animal within these noble drakkins. Like with Jetamio, he had easily seen this lurking ferocity, as though the wilds still lingered in them and the animal merely slept. His vision returned to his own eyes.

He decided. to approach her cautiously. Unable to control his curiosity any longer, he continued towards the sanctuary of the aspen grove and this beautiful puzzle.

The golden Drakkin paused, listening intently. Someone approached the grove. She got to her feet, still on the rock, and gazed into the trees with eyes strangely like those of Jetamio. But instead of the calm, but strange aura of the druid's gaze, this girls eyes shone with a predatory gleam.

Her body tensed, poised to run should she need to. She was not truelly afraid, more like the shyness of an elusive animal that did not wish to be seen. But she sensed a being that was one with this strange cold land, one who knew it like he knew himself.

Her gold horn studded brow furrowed briefly in a frown as she wondered again what she was doing here. Where was she from, better still who was she? But she did not have time to ponder it, as the snowhaired Barbarian appeared from the trees. Her golden eyes locked on him, taking in the sight of the first man she had seen since...well she couldnt remember, but she knew what he was even if she couldnt remember seeing one before.

As the sun rose over the treeline and bathed her in its full glow, dancing off her golden scales, she waited to see what he would do now...

Into the aspen grove strode the Shaman, His eyes fixed in fasination on the young drakkin, The confused look in her eye was a clue to him that she had recently undergone the change but how had she come to be here? It must be fate, Stormfollower did not know what to say or how to ease the Drakkins busy mind. but again he thought of Jetamio.

With a soft smile and an extended palm he now spoke to the gleaming gold warrior before him. "Hail friend, be at ease.. I know not how thow came here but you are welcome. I am Stormfollower Shaman of Halas and this is a sacred grove of my people, The Dreamers amoungst us come here to built sweat huts and to embark on dreamquests, that is why I am here. Is that why you are here?"

"No" the drakkin answered with her keen eyes surveying him. "I don`t know why I am here or how I came here, I remeber wandering far after my assention but all was a blur untill I stumbled on your sanctuary."

"I understand completely" Storm answered with a tone of reasurance " Thow hast come through a great transformation and must be very weary and somewhat out of place. "He could see the other Drakkin in her eyes now and knew at once what he must do " I know of one who may help you, one who is like thyself, a drakkin and one who will help you. Her name is Jetamio and I shall take thee to her if you will come."

In silence they walked through the light snow back through the woods whence he had come. Stormfollower lead her on towards the familiar mountainouse passages of Everfrost and his home. From there it was on to New Tanaan. all the while in perfect silence at ease with each others company and pace. Untill they rteached the portal to Quenyos and the great stone city beyond. On to the Lions Mane Inn and the one who reminded Storm of the antient Green Fox, the Wrulan, Jetamio. Surely she could concil this young one in the ways of her people, as surely as she needed this wild one to fill the void within them both.

(Continued in Jetamios thread "Dreams of Gold")

((Here viewtopic.php?p=179#179 ))

The years had passed and lo was the wandering of The Shaman of Wolf Cult. He had seen many storms and precursors to the upcoming conflict and still the silence he kept. The drums of the north had beat more frequently on this visit. The Wood Law passed; the signal fires were now silent. So it was with trepidation that he had come to the great elders’ council once more. No signal fire meant no warning of his arrival and the elders did not like to be disturbed. And so it was that when he reached their hallowed mountain home amid the dolmen they bade him wait while matters more pressing were seen to. Two months he waited. Without a word and without hospitality the elders made him wait in the frigid ante houses of the support workers buildings, before, finally he was summoned into the great meeting lodge.
Within, the great fireplace roared with the rapid consumption of a quarter measure cord of well seasoned oak. The heat was almost too much for Stormfollower so he shed his outer furs onto the floor at the entrance. Without wiping the snow from his armoured boots he strode towards the grizzled council with his helm held under one arm.
"Stormfollower you come before us once more with your silly whims. Tell us what more do you wish us to do? We will not be delayed by your impertinence as easily next time."
“My Lords" Stormfollower spoke with a steady emotionless voice "You have witnessed the Omens as well as I. But I urge you, as Leader of Wolf Cult, chief amongst the Northron alliance, I must request of you.
Commitment of our mobile means of war towards the upcoming battlefront now, [before this bloody conflict gets underway. Send with me chief amongst our generals to prepare our camps and bolster the defence of Good in Antonica. I must.."
"SILENCE!" North Dawn stood from his comfortable wing backed throne before the great hearth. “You would dare to tell us what to do? You who are Leader of Wolf Cult? What of your witch wife’s new guild? Have not you made arrangements for Oxbalm to take your place in your position to join with her in a postulating card and tea club in some elven tree fort? AND you know very well your "holy" position is ours to give and take as we please..."
A long silence passes as the elder glares down at Stormfollower from the broad dais where all eleven other elders sit . Stormfollower holds the glare with his own dissident stare.
"You will be leading no number of our people at all towards the doom that awaits those in the south.. many of who left our lands long ago of their own desire. You will not even be allowed to spread more of your undermining mood amongst those of you own cult. If you miss one sitting in the leadership seat at any of your new moon meetings, we will know and Silverbird will be your replacement, not Oxbalm as is your wish.
Now go! Back to your witch wife or your heretic cult. We care not which. There is no room for another elder here Shaman! We twelve have spoken. Trouble us no further with your dimwitted ideas, they do not fit the plan." With that the large but stooped over old man struck his steel staff on the flagstone floor signifying the end of Stormfollowers time.

The next visit to the council halls, two years later, was not at Stormfollowers call, He had been summonsed to stand before the twelve great elders. They had been chosen from amongst the clans for their heroic deeds in the goblin wars. And some were even present at the taking of the Hills of Moon Counting even before the time of earth shift. Each now sat in a golden throne upon the great Dias of the halls of judgement eyeing coldly the shaman as he walked its great length. Stopping at the first huge basalt step he bowed low in silence awaiting the words of Northdawn, the councils voice for as long as Stormfollower could remember.
After a great length the crackle of the only "legal" wood fire in the realm was drowned out by the angry voice of the head of the Northron tribes’ alliance.
"Stormfollower! You stand accused before us of crimes against nature! You, whose values on such led him to leave his people. Seeking, foolishly to give council in the lands not our own. Your accusers await their summons in the chambers of truth behind us and have born witness to the thrice counted crimes. Your defenders stand knee deep in snow out among the dolmen awaiting their chance to speak on your behalf. Let the doors of justice be thrown wide and Truth enter from both ends!"
With a thunderous clang of his iron staff on the dark stone floor the elder motioned the doors to be opened. A pair of huge bare chested sentries at either end of the vast hall opened massive, ornately carved double doors of stone. From behind the elders a group of fifty of Stormfollowers Wolf Cult, a smugly smirking Silverbird at their front, stepped into the room and took their place to the right side of the hall. While the doorway to the south remained eerily empty, but for the blowing snows of the far north coast which swirled into the hot hall and melted on the warm stone floor to the left of the entrance.

The wolf remained hidden at first. She had trailed Silverbirds group, keeping a safe distance back, relying on her nose to follow even in the raging blizzard. This one day she chose the form of a white wolf instead of the black to blend in easier with the snow. She watched them enter one door, but noticed another. The snowy white she-wolf padded to the other entrance and looked upon her mate kneeling in the middle. A soft, barely audible whine sounded in her throat as she felt guilt. His love for her had got him into trouble again. She remained in the doorway, not daring to enter this place sacred to the Northmen, but she stood silently at the door way, the blowing snows coating her shaggy coat, but her golden eyes watched everything.

For many long moments the doorway stood empty but for Jetamio. A few of the accusers began to whisper mockingly amongst themselves at the absence of any defence for Stormfollower.
Then they heard it. The distant crunching of snow by many feet drew closer to the Halls of Judgement. And one by one they entered, young and old. The remainder of Stormfollowers Wolf tribe had been kept waiting at the far end of the snow covered field of the dolman and had been delayed even longer by the impertinent sentries of the council. They streamed in now several at a time, past the white wolf, three hundred strong. Then came the Bear clans representatives, ten in all, and after that those of the nearby Marsh clan, twenty in number, twelve of the Eagle tribe with Snowfox, seven from the clan of the Cave Bear, Woodbowl and a few of her Raven clan, four of Goldtoads Cult of the Armoured Mammoth and nine Grey Whale members. Even the far isolate tribe of the Nut Hatch had sent two representatives. Each had come to speak for their mutual leader of the dances. Stormfollower knew them, each by name, he had grown up with many of them and they all came frequently to the dance ceremonies he led. Sometimes these events were held at their camps but they were often at the summer village of the Wolf Cult. He had also grown to know a great many of them through his wellness visits, for many of these tribes had no shaman as their need for spiritual magic’s was seldom, simple hunters without predators and with much game. He viewed it as his responsibility to see to the spirit of all the Northron tribe’s members as best he could. Yet there were several tribes that had sent no members. Either for difficulties with the travel or due to their apathy towards Stormfollower their voices would be silent on this matter. For, as much as he tried, being but one man, he could not serve all the tribes all the time.
Breaking with protocol Stormfollower stood, and turning his back to the council he smiled wide in amazement as the left side of the hall filled to near capacity. Pleasant greetings directed at him now filled the room and drowned out the confused and angry murmurs of his few dejectors. He glanced over to Silverbird. The old shaman of the Wolf Cult seamed smaller now. He clung wavering to his gnarled wooden staff, gob smacked at the events unfolding.
“Order!” shouted Northdawn over the small commotion. “Stormfollower, back down before us!”
Stormfollower turned slowly, still smiling, and offered up a short bow in form of apology before kneeling once more.
The leader of the council clanged his great iron staff again and spoke in a low, bored, monotone voice. “Are there any more for either side of the Truth?”

The wolf had cowered at the sudden influx of people, watching from the side of the path as they entered. When she thought they were done she crept back out and watched again, glad now that her husband had defenders.

“Are there any more for either side of the Truth?”

The white wolf twitched. Should she show face, potentially cause more trouble or stay quietly in the background unnoticed? She heard footsteps behind her and turned to find Tortha running through the snow, Sidheag at his side. He stopped upon seeing her, eyeing her. He knew she was no ordinary wolf. He glanced inside then back at Jetamio. He uttered a word to his own white wolf and she slipped off the path and sat patiently awaiting him. Tortha beckoned Jetamio to follow him as his warder, and they both slipped quietly in and sat by the rest of the tribe.

The orb showed the scene in the north. Gilliadson and Sineliniel watched as the mass of people filed into the Council Hall. Sineliniel laid her head upon her husband's shoulder.

"It appears he has sufficient defense, Leofa." Said the golden-haired Elementalist. "We do not appear to be needed."

Gilliadson turned to their host. "Thank you Elwinde, for allowing us the use of your vision orb." Said the Knight.

"I would never refuse a boon of either of you two, Cousin." Gilliadson returned his view to the orb to watch the proceedings as he put his arm around Sineliniel to draw her closer to him.

The room was well lit, mostly from the roaring fire in its huge hearth behind the twelve council leaders and their ornate thrones. Torches also lined both walls of the chamber lighting it well laterally.

The basalt dais stretched nearly the full length of the back wall supporting the huge fireplace at its center. The stone doors that Silverbird and his entourage had entered through stood open on the right side of the dias while the left side was left for the neatly stacked firewood and its bare-chested attendant who dutifully threw another big piece on when the inferno showed any signs of slackening. The high arched ceiling was painted white over the stones and reflected much of the light back down into the hall. There were no seats to speak of but finely carved rune-pictures denoted a place for each to sit on the floor.

Once everyone was seated Northdawn hefted his iron staff high above his head, double handed and froze in a pose of strike readiness. At this cue the sentinels at either end of the hall slammed shut the heavy stone doors then set about extinguishing the torches around the hall in graceful synchronisation with each other. Within a short time the two right hand door sentinels stood in the center of the right wall and their counterparts stood directly across from them.They were obviously proud warrior women with thier faces and bodies painted in traditional animal knotworks yet they wore no weapons but for a small stone dagger at thier hip and bore no armour.

The only light now was the fire behind the “stage” silhouetting the “players” in its bright illumination. Northdawn smashed his staff down with a primal grunt and the blazing inferno blinked out of existence. The hall was in total darkness.

Softly, a dry bass drum began to beat from the direction of the right hand side of the dias. Its timing was slow, somewhat slower that the beat of a human heart at rest. It had a claming effect on all those who listened to it openly, but it was not magical. After many drum beats light came back to the hall. High above the now empty fire place wall behind the Council two slots had opened and through them poured a strange mist. It faintly glowed with an eerie white light as it cascaded down the slightly rippled texture of the wall it clung to until it reached the floor and began to pool in the small inset before the hearth. Once both streams had filled the shallow pool with mist it began to pour forth and under the feet of the seated council. Northdawn had taken his place at the center and the member at the far right sat with a drum continuing the slow precession beat for this odd fog that now dimly illuminated them from below.

Stormfollowers silhouette could be now seen standing in front of the first basalt step as the glowing haze began to spill down the steps towards him.

From his seat Northdawn spoke in a deep voice.
"Stormfollower will now speak his guilt that hath called this trial into order"