Beyond Myria (IC) - Book 2

[Kain_Tempest]

Thyr gave an amused smile at Ingvar's outburst. He was correct in that Noj and she had been the ones wallowing in self-pity. She leaned back, a rather smug expression on her face, more for Ingvar losing his temper despite the fact that he was correct about Noj and her belly-aching.
Yellisur's correction drew her attention though.
"Don't be so hesitant to call them what they are. If the Adelbrood and Wolven are one in the same, then that is what they are. I certainly don't consider myself one of their kind, even if I share their stinking blood. They are no longer Cadinoc and they are not my kin, they are an abomination and for that reason I will gladly kill them."

[Gygaxphobia]

The last few days have been more stressful than you realised. The everyday struggle of survival is one thing out in the icelands, though this experience has been different.

You have hospitality and the security of the mountain now, but in the confines the emotions that had little role in the outside world are suddenly more real.
The confined space, the closeness of these people who are strangers - despite the life and death struggles you have faced together, and the trust you have built between you - the revelations about your kin and family... all these things are rubbing sore on wounds old and new.

In finding quiet space to reflect and sort your thoughts, you find yourselves drifting apart. Each of you pursue your own interests and ideas where the bustle of the busy folk about you make it easy to lose yourselves in the crowd.
It occurs to each of you individually that chieftains are essential to any group. Where so many strong and perspicious opinions present themselves it is difficult to find the right course: the course that suits everyone and the course that gives the best result.
A perspicacious chieftain, obeyed almost without question, is why so many tribes move and act as one, even if that chieftain proves wrong...

------------------------------------

Noj's feet carry him glumly onwards and up the path through the rocks to the small waterfall in the crevice. There he spends some hours whittling away at a piece of wood, lost in thought and staring upwards at the small crack of sky above.

------------------------------------

Jyn sits among the circles of lizardfolk watching as they go about their work. The few materials they have available are put to good use, making clothes and tools, repairing armour and weapons.
The clothing is designed with the cold-blooded in mind. Simple thin cloths for the mountain with thick hides and furs for the outside, all of them in separate pieces so that body temperature can be regulated.
They work with little sound though there is clearly communication in gestures and body language.
Later she speaks to Oak of the peoples history. The details of their own Journey some centuries past are unclear, but their origin was a great Ringed Forest far to the north-west.
The standard of the tribe carries symbols of their homeland and their ancestors. Each warrior is marked with similar symbols and each takes a turn in guarding the standard; to repair it and sleep with it, to protect it from the weather. Although there is only once privileged bearer of the standard in battle, it belongs to the whole warrior caste.
The bearer remains with the shaman and chieftain during conflicts, acting as a marshalling point so that all warriors know their direction, where to move and where to rally. The current bearer is joined in battle by a warrior with a half-spear that has a hollow haft. This spear has holes to be played like a pipe that can give orders to the warriors.

The standard is hung with scalps and claws, fingerbones hang as beads across it and string together ancient metal rings collected from defeated tribes. The hide of the banner itself is that of a great black Apekatt pinned with foot-long claws. This creature was said to have a firey glow of Vendigo sorcery in battle, its arms and chest plated with black iron that seemed to move as part of its flesh.

------------------------------------

Ingvar takes the long road down to Pinval. For him it is natural to be alone, though the company of the Column and the heroes over the last days has been welcome, a return to a solitary life - at least for a short time- is peaceful.

The Pinval men welcome him once more, this time with even more reverance though also more familiar and personable. After his outburst he sees even more similarities with the people of Gnieprs Mill and he wonders how many of them survived the Column and how many remain behind.

Ingvar ponders over what to tell them about the mountain. He sets them straight, that his companions are still alive and he is not the only survivor, but what to tell them of the lizards? And what to warn them of the coming war with the Adelbrood.

For now, he enjoys the mild outdoors. The weather is cold, but not freezing and the fragrance of the air is refreshing. The food and ale is a welcome change from mushrooms and insects and he starts to see the potential in the large village. A community of farmers and gatherers next to a colony of warriors...

There are horses available still, and some instructions as to how to care for them in the icelands; of course they require a lot of attention and food.

------------------------------------

Vesha of all seems least affected and does not have time for the diverse opinions of the groups. Spending some time in meditation he feels whole and in balance with himself and his destiny.
Here the spirits of the mountain and the fire pool are wound together. Above the spirits of ice and snow batter at the fortress while the wind and sky look on.

It is clearly a matter of upmost concern that the world's balance has been overturned and that mortals must do all they can to fix it. Who then, is there to fix mortal concerns while they uphold their destiny?

------------------------------------

Thyr returned wearily to the forge for another time. Her resolve was being tested as the progress was slow.

Treat it like a wild stallion... show it your will and harness it's fury. Don't attempt to break it, it will never submit.. and if it did it would be broken...
the dvarf had spoken to encourage her and remind her that patience would be important.

Every inch of metal had to be fought and every hour spent inflicted more heat rash from the fires. Steam scalds lapped over the gloves and blisters formed between the thickening skin of her hands.

Remember it will be what you make it. It will absorb what you give it.

------------------------------------

The night passes, with each of you in individual reflection. Come morning something has changed subtly. The group once bound together by necessity now chooses their associations free from need.

-------------------------------------

Noj finds some of his old fire among the bewildering loss. By himself he makes the march back out into the frozen hillside and down to the scene of the tragedy.
Frozen eyes stare upwards and blood iced-over coats the ground. A layer of snow somewhat conceals the scene, but barely.

This part of the Column was left behind and perhaps had no chance. They fought in the snow as though they had every chance and salvation was only a sword swing away.
Three dozen Avalanchers dead in the snow and Egrek amongst them. Around them the two dozen Huscarls wearing tattered and bloodied fox furs, another four dozen herders from the Fens and the lowlands. Several of the Far Coast people and those from Gnieprs Mill.

Noj sets about the task of burning what he can, perhaps some might be worthy to be taken into the mountain but most he will deal with now.

Scattered amongst them are perhaps four dozen Wolvun corpses and a dozen horse carcasses which he does his best to ignore, though there is some satisfaction at knowing his bloodkin asked no quarter and punished those who came for them.

The open sky is blessed relief and the wind that gushes around him lifts his head to gaze around and into the many distances. There are still lifelines out there, others of the blood calling to him. If vengeance was anywhere in his mind he would have to put aside the pity and live his days fighting for those that remained... in honour of those that died.

The mountain looms large behind him, and he gazes upwards to it's peak which touches the clouds. One day he might stand there and look down on all below him. Would those that looked back would know him for deeds of valour? Or would his name be forgotten?

------------------------------------

Jyn keeps her head down in a cool corner by a shallow water pool. The chained book in her lap.
The light is reasonable but daylight woould be better, if it could be without wind and cold. The silver chains are intricate and quarrelsome, each more argumentative than the last. Frustration blows up and sparks of anger cloud her mind, but she doggedly resumes her task, clearing her mind and carrying on.
Throughout the day she takes only water and speaks no word. At the corners of her eyes she reads the actions of the folk in their manner and movement. Mostly they wish for the Allies of old, some of them are losing faith, some of them wish for a world with only lizards.
Jyn knows that the world will never see peace, but it does not have to always be at war.

Her fingers rest on the final link, and she wonders what she is about to unlock.

------------------------------------

That evening the atmosphere has changed in the mountain world, from pensive and thoughtful there is the hint of action. The warrior caste have become more charged, rested and recovered they move about with purpose, stalking past and glaring, especially at you.
There is something unresolved, and though it is without words the sense of it is palpable in the air.

[Kain_Tempest]

Thyr sought a quiet place to think after the argument with Ingvar and Yellisur, a place where few of the lizards frequented so that she and Faillune could commune in peace.
"He had every right to call us out. You weren't exactly the most noble back in the vault."
"I wonder if his intent was less to put us in our place than it was to raise himself in the eyes of those around us. After all, my doubts and Noj's despair were something that we'd only show among people we trusted. I definately would not have brought up what I did before the Huscarls. I don't know about Noj, but what we spoke of was something that was probably the closest to being a pack."
"So you were trusting that far?" Thyr shook her head. "Well if he was Lupin, then he might not have understood which was why he attacked in such a way."
"That fool is the last person I would want to have lead this cadre when you go to the southeast. But I doubt that neither myself nor Noj are much deserving of a position to reign him in."
"Perhaps Jyn should be the one to lead the group of us. She knows the most and has been able to intone strategy to us more so than Ingvar has. You might have the experience to lead..."
"But I also know how to follow."
"So when I'm whole and we end the first raid of Mittelheim we can start finding the sun."
"Was there any doubt? If the legends speak of all peoples being involved, best that even one like myself goes along until a better champion presents themself."
"Ever figure I chose you for a reason other than getting out of Shatterhorn?" She looked away.
"I'm not the Blood Reaver..."
"Then just pretend to be. These people and those in Pinval need a champion and the Wolven deserve to have a nightmare reborn. You may not fit the requirements but that doesn't mean you can't try. Besides, if our loremaster becomes our leader, she will need strong hearts and Noj is too far from that." Thyr sighed and nodded.
"Well then, best we start with getting you put back together."

***

The next morning, Thyr approaches Jyn.
"Jyn, if I may speak to you privately, I have a matter with which I want to discuss." After pulling the loremaster aside, she continues.
"I want to apologize for turning down your proposition to help me rebuild Faillune. I've struggled with the steel for some time and have had little success. My pride tells me not to ask for your help because you are not a Cadinoc, but I've come to realize, that Faillune isn't so much mine nor Cadinoc itself. I want to keep what dignity I have, which is why I'm asking you away from everyone else, to allow my to take you up on that offer. Will you help me?"

[Grymmheart]

Jyn reflects upon all that has passed. The knowledge she has gained is commited to memory with the simple games her family had taught her all those years ago.

Turning aside with Mynas, Jyn is initially shocked by the woman's attention. Never before had she wanted to speak directly to Jyn without some form of insult. She quickly buries those memories and focuses on the pleading in the woman's voice.

"No I will not help you," she replies to Mynas' question for help. Jyn could never help someone such as Mynas' before that person sought to help themselves.

"Let me explain. I do not want to help you in this task, for that would imply you can not do it and need someone to do it for you. When with companions, someone should never feel that they need help with an endeavor. I will gladly perform the task with you, at your side, as one. But please don't look at it as help. You should never ask for help from someone willing to risk their lives for you. All you need to do is pen yourself up to the opportunity that the person will walk beside you during the challenge you are facing." Offering a brief smile, Jyn continues, "Well let's get finished, we have travelling to do."

[Helfdan]

Ingvar the Wolf

The next morning Ingvar wakes in a much better mood - roast pork, ale, and a willing lass will do that for a man - but he sknows the most difficult part is still ahead. Careful not to disturb the farmer's daughter sharing his blankets, he dons his new leggings and tunic, and dons his weaponsbelt, before heading out to find the warden. Once he finds the man, he speaks in his usual gruff tones. "We must speak in private... about the fate of the people of Pinval."

[Gygaxphobia]

Rolling from his bed Ingvar pats his lean belly, the memory of the meal something that he'll keep with him for some time.

The girl was only too glad to bed the rough man, an outsider that had the stories of a hero about him, and some kindness behind a surly manner.
Her father wasn't likely to complain while nose-deep in cider and at any rate Ingvar was a much better prospect for mating than any of the close cousins that were available.

The morning is crisp and wet with dew and a drizzle of rain patters around, his legs and shoulders are damp within several paces. The village folk are busy at the edges of the fields, tying bundles and loading carts.
It looks like the harvest is halfway over; there maybe one more before winter preparations begin and the ground is prepared for next year.

The Warden greets Ingvar wearily. His work has been hard the last few months especially with the new Wolvun threat, the battle at the Tower and now the uncertainty around all of the myths he used to preach. Despite all this he has been genuinely warm with Ingvar and pleased he has returned.

He frowns and takes Ingvar aside,
What about the fate of Pinval? Is the Beast freed?

------------------------------

Jyn leaves the last links of the book entangled, sure now that she is close to the end. Returning to the forge with Mynas she is impressed at how far the Cadinoc has come on her own. Two bars of the unusual metal have been formed into a rough bar, an arms length long, which thickens at both ends where it has been beaten flat.
Jyn watches as Thyr heats it once more and starts to understand some of the difficulties with this time of forging...

[Helfdan]

Ingvar the Wolf

The huntsman addresses the Warden. "Dire news. The Wolvun, or Aldemada, as they are now known, are marching this way." He pauses to appraise the other man's reaction.

[The Great Skenardo]

Noj Onadare
Sitting with one leg propped up in the small garden, Noj turns in his fingers the one piece of wood he'd allowed himself to carve. Even in the Kumbsbin Mountains, wood was precious, and he'd always been taught that a little of the tree's spirit stayed with every sliver that you cut from it.
It was an exercise in self-control, they said, to carve wood. It was too easy to hack at it, impatient to get at the shape you wanted locked inside all those extra chips. But you had to be careful.
*snap*
Noj stares blankly at the broken length of wood in his hand and the knife in his other.
Wordlessly, he tosses the broken end to the ground and leaves the garden to sleep, his feet shuffling across the stone.

[Gygaxphobia]

The Warden stares at Ingvar for half a moment.

"They come to free her then," he bows his head.

"Can we stop them? We must try, perhaps we can trap them in a pass with a rockfall. How far are they, and how many?," his voice trembles as he speaks and his knuckles go white as they clench his staff, but he knows his duty.

[Helfdan]

Ingvar the Wolf

"I know not how many.... perhaps all of them. An army at the least." Ingvar then slaps the Warden's shoulder. "But stay calm, man, there is yet hope!" He pauses again, his green eyes narrowing as he assesses the older man. "Have you heard of the Ringed Forest People?"

[Gygaxphobia]

The old man stares at Ingvar, shocked by the threat of an approaching army but even more surprised at how Ingvar glows as he tells him.

His eyes are drawn away and the Warden looks out of the hut up the valley to the forest of pine trees.
"I've never heard of any people living there, and I don't know that name either."

[Grymmheart]

"Mynas, your metallurgy is very good. As I stated, you don't need help finishing this task, just companionship to make the time go by well. I have always wondered how smiths can be so focused in their work, without sharing any feelings with another. I guess some argue that each item crafted can take a small part of one's self to become more than just a normal item. By being alone one can focus fully to infuse that essence. I have always questioned that approach. For if you give of yourself, each item must be weaker than the first because you have less to give.

But by working as a team more can often be accomplished than just twice the individual performance. So this extra 'energy', I will call it, can be freely infused into an item without weakening any one involved.

This ore is wonderful. Most of my training with metallurgy has been with recycled metal, as we trained as a people to continue the skills and knowledge of our ancestors. I worked earlier with these people on hide and they have interesting techniques that would be good to bring back home. I just wish I had more wood to work with and perfect those skills. Maybe when we release the sun, trees will be more plentiful.

Ah, to hope." Jyn continues rambling while the two work. Sharing tidbits of her past and windows to her inner beliefs.

Spoiler

Show

[roll=craft] 1d20+11[/roll] on wood or metal trinkets

[Helfdan]

Ingvar the Wolf

Ingvar proceeds with his explanation in his usual gruff manner. "They are a tribe of serpent-people who have a stronghold within the mountain. They have many warriors, and are skilled in battle. Their leaders know of Pinval, and of the impending danger. Your people could join them... take refuge in their stronghold, and assist them in the coming battle. Though they survive in the mountain, they have not your people's craftsmanship, or abundance of food. You must meet their elders yourself."

[Gygaxphobia]

The heat of the forge requires both women to take frequent breaks, and while Thyr drives hard the work continues to be long and exhausting.

With most of the day gone and well into the afternoon, the haft of the weapon is fully formed. The patterns of the forging are inscribed across its surface it a mottled display of the hammers and used used to beat it, as well as the sands used to cool it.
The final task is to attach Failune to his new body.

----------------

The Warden sees Ingvar's hope and draws some courage from it.
"Then I will meet with them, and ask what price they demand of us."

"We should bring the womanfolk and all the supplies we can. The men can stay to finish the harvest and bring everything they can."

The Warden takes Ingvar outside and with a few orders the arrangements start to be made. There were some preparations made already for moving or hiding should raiders come, and the wagons are ready to be loaded with what part of the harvest is collected already.

"Will you lead us onwards Ingvar? The men can finish their tasks and join us in a few days."

[Helfdan]

Ingvar the Wolf

Ingvar nods. "Of course, Warden. Let me know when you are prepared." He then goes to retrieve his gear. Once he dons his light pack, his now bristling quiver, and his other weapons, he sits on a wooden bench, enjoying the outside air, until the warden and his people complete their preparations.

[Kain_Tempest]

Mynas locks her jaw throughout the majority of the work. She does listen to Jyn, but doesn't given many responses save for grunts and simple responses. She is firmly focused on completeing the work. Faillune on the other hand, proves to be a better conversationalist, chatting with Jyn while Thyr does her work.

With the shaft completed, she careful inspects it, admiring her own work. The finish is not as good as before, but with the supply of steel bars and more time and education, she could always improve it and make Faillune just as- no- better than before.

In silence, as if performing an ancient rite, Thyr lifts the shards of Faillune, holding them in her hands and studying them for a moment before including them into the weapon, completing the weapon's reincarnation.

Weaponsmithing - (1d20+1)[14]

[Ozzy_G]

Vesha rises from his reverie and seeks out Jyn amongst the caverns.

He emerges from the darkness besides her, his white-blue, frostbitten skin looking inhuman, like a corpse of the frosty wastes. Have you uncovered the secrets of the book? he asks in his strange, wind-caught voice.

[Gygaxphobia]

Thyr assesses her work, pleased with the experience she has gained but tired from the long hours wrestling with the mysterious metal.
The callouses on her hands and the heat rash across her arms and face speak of the labour. The dirty sweat that creases in her skin tells the story of her battle.

Faillune had been garrulous throughout the day, perhaps pleased for someone to talk to or distract him from what he was experiencing.
For Jyn, he was an interesting story-teller, his tales far enough fetched to be long but complete enough to have some truth to them. He spoke names that fell from his tongue easily but seldom sounded like any real place or thing.

When he spoke of beasts that came from the sea, he made the waters that streamed from their weeded shoulders seem real, as though he saw them. When he named the beaches they walked upon, he spoke like they were writ upon a map. He spoke of winged men that took the shape of noble birds, who circled in the air and could make storms with their breath. How the fierce pixies who lived in the tops of giant trees would pelt them with stones to keep them away.
Tales that Mynas had heard before and made her snort with disbelief, though this time she thought again and was more curious.

Failune chuckled and kept well away from any talk of the Wolvun, anything that might have actually happened, and anything that Thyr was part of.

Thyr had worked with their talk in the background, easy to ignore but at the same time soothing in the way that small talk can often be. The plain repetition of the work around her was almost meditative, and the comings and goings of the other folk could easily be her own kin.

Failune was distracted by Jyn as her questions persuaded him to tell more stories. And it made Thyr's task easier for he might ask questions she did not want to answer. Jyn's light touch had softened Thyr's shoulders when she became tense, she had been ready with the tongs or with the softer hammers before she was even asked.

Finally Thyr spoke soft words, more to encourage and assure herself that it was done and the teeth of ancient metal met the hot steel extruded by the novice... and Failune sighed.
A wash of orange flame licked along the haft and seemed to settle in the firelight reflected from the sheen. A louder groan hummed from the ancient spirit as he seemed to stretch his incorporeal soul inside the corporeal minerals, testing the fit like a man with new boots.

Spoiler

Show

Failune is now a unique weapon. d8 damage in one hand, d12 in two hands, crit range is 19-20 and multiplier is x4, it weighs 8lbs. In the hands of Mynas Thyr one attack roll per day may be rerolled and one damage reduction roll per day may be ignored (chosen before the roll).

Both Mynas Thyr and Jyn gain +4 to skill rolls crafting melee weapons from metal from now on.

Jyn may now spend skill points on learning the Saurian language.

Vesha watches the completion from a short distance before interrupting. As the haft cools around the teeth he asks of Jyn about the book.
From this distance he senses a dark presence about Jyn, like a cluster of noxious vapours hanging about her shoulders.

A cooler air hangs about the cavern, and the small fractions of light in the outer chambers changes slightly as the white-blue light of afternoon colours into sunset.

--------------------------------

Preparations at Pinval had taken a couple of hours. The wagons had been hitched tighter and wrapped firmly, and while the supplies looked infinite to him, Ingvar knew that several hundred people would eat through them in a month or less.
Goodbyes had taken a half hour, despite warnings and protests, there were always excuses to stay a minute longer. Ingvar frowned and looked on, wary of the fading light but also aware that despite the best efforts, these men who stayed behind may never be seen again.

Some fifty women and children drove the wagons, perhaps a dozen of them beyond their prime, but they were as capable as the men in nearly every way.

Of the three dozen men who stayed behind, only six waited to see the wagons finally off. The others lost themselves in work and made pretend they would only stay until the morning.

The sun bled into a dull crimson across the mountain side as the wagons ascended, making for the easier south face.
To the north of the valley the strange yellow globes of light lit up once more as twilight descended, the Pinval people smiled at them but they still made Ingvar uneasy.
Even more so since he began to feel the prickles across his neck as though he was watched by many pairs of eyes that meant him harm.

[Helfdan]

Ingvar the Wolf

The lean huntsman scoured the dusk with intensity, using all of his experience, as well as his new-found senses, to seek approaching foes. His bow was firmly in his left hand as he walked in front of the wagons.

[Grymmheart]

Feeling joy as Mynas' weapon nears completion, she turns to answer Vesha, "I have not dared open the last link without all prearations complete. Part of me worries that some omen will overtake us and require immediate response that we could not properly attend to suring our current situation. Hopefully Ingvar is due back soon, and I can complete the task."

[Ozzy_G]

Vesha frowns, and looks about. Where has Ingvar gone then? We must discover clues to the whereabouts of the sun from this book, not get distracted by unimportant things.

[Grymmheart]

"he left to see to the defense of the town while we finished with supplies here."

[Ozzy_G]

Vesha grunts in irritation. Foolish man, the sun is far more important. He stands. Open the book as soon as you can. Call me when you do. He stalks back off into the gloom, tense and annoyed.

[Gygaxphobia]

In the foothills at the base of the southern slope the sun is low, casting long shadows over the wagon train.
Ingvar crouches by a cluster of rocks to avoid his outline being seen against the sky and scans about down the slope. The Warden and others lead the wagons onwards, Ingvar waved them past without speaking to avoid alarming them.
The wind had moved several times, and on the edge of one shift his nostrils had spiked at the barest whisper of a scent.

In the gulleys of the foothills swift-moving shapes ascended behind them. Their route was long and indirect, the shapes scattered and solitary, but they moved steadily upwards. He only saw occasional glimpses from the edge of his eyes as they meandered about behind the ridges below.
He couldn't tell their number and their intent but that they were Wolvun his nose told him for sure. Perhaps a scouting party, perhaps their full force. Either way he needed to protect the wagons.

The first arrow felled took a wolf silently in the neck, the second punctured a wolf in the chest as it leapt a gap. They might have been quiet enough, but they may have given warning to the others that they were spotted.
Ingvar lowered his bow and considered hurrying along the wagons that trundled upwards, scattering rocks and dust.

[Helfdan]

Ingvar lopes along the wagons, heading for the Warden. He pulls the elderly man aside and whispers hurriedly. "The wolvun are upon us. They must move faster, man! I shall continue to guard our way."

[The Great Skenardo]

Noj Onadare
wandering into the forge, Noj enters just in time for Vesha to brush past him. A few errant sparks of static leap between Noj's shoulder and Vesha's furs.
Wrinkling his nose a little at the shaman's passing, Noj wanders in and takes a seat.
"He's set on opening that book, eh?"
With that opening, Noj seems to dismiss all at once his days of absence. He looks even a little leaner than he had before, and his skin a little more leathery and beaten by the sun and wind. Still, he lounges back in his seat like an oiled spring.
He whistles, his eye caught by the new Faillune, and he nods his approval of the craftsmanship.
"Did I hear you say Ingvar's trying to get those farmers up to the mountain?"

[Gygaxphobia]

The Warden turns to Ingvar, wide-eyed and then stares blindly into the appraoching darkness, "We can't move any faster, and the route is long..."
His face hardens and he turns back to Ingvar as another two men stop to find out the news.
"We could leave the wagons, then we could move faster. Or we could gather stand and fight. What should we do?

Ingvar quickly tries to assess the situation. He might be able to gather a dozen of the strongest to fight with improvised weapons while the others move ahead unprotected.
It must be another hour to the top of the mountain, perhaps half that if the wagons were unhitched, the horses and mules could take the weakest.

There's no kidding himself though, each Wolvun must be worth three or four of the villagers, and the most he can hope for is to buy them time to reach the top.


-------------

Deep in the interior of the mountain, two new lizards jog into the central chamber. When Oak and Yellisur see them they rush over to join them, Pine follows not far behind.
The two new lizard strip off thick white furs and layers of clothing underneath while others bring them buckets of cool water to dowse themselves.
Down to their scales, these two lizards are almost albino, white scaled skin tinged with pinkness, all of which reflects the orange sheen of the fire lake. A line of black scales runs from the top of their heads down their backs.

Pine turns to look down on Oak, hissing and spluttering, his jerky movements show obvious agitation and anger. Oak spreads his arms wide showing calm and reconciliation but even he is agitated.
Yellisur looks over to the forge as Vesha walks away, clearly unsure of what to do, her eyes seeking out Vesha, Jyn and Thyr.

[Helfdan]

Ingvar curses as he analyzes his options. "Unhitch the animals! Have the weakest ride! To stay here means death." He looks upon the people of Pinval as if judging their worth. "I want your best archers at the rear with me. The only way we'll survive is if we make a fighting retreat, shooting and moving."

[Gygaxphobia]

Yellisur pads quietly across the chamber, Noj hears her appraoching only when she is close.
You knew he would bring them here? Our scouts have just reported their movement to us, they come from the south-east and should be here just after nightfall. It will cause much argument with the warriors, and they will be as furious as Pine if they are followed.
Our scouts also report movement on the south-west side, a herd of Apekatt it seems. Very strange is this, they travel little and we have not seen this herd before. They must settle somewhere before night comes and the winds become coldest.
Perhaps they come seeking the one you killed.

She shrugs slightly and looks back to the shaman still arguing. Looking back to you her eyes seek your assurances, from strength and confidence before she seems less and less certain.

----------------------------------

Intially startled, the people managed to unhitch wagons surprisingly quickly. Some wedged stones about the wheels while others worried what to take from inside.
They had to be hurried, some wanted to take everything they could carry, and time was short.

Ingvar let the people gain a lead on them while he looked at his levy. Two old men and a young girl have brought bows with them, Ingvar's archers.
The others prepared to fight are four mothers with hatchets and seven grandfathers with poles, hooks and clubs.

The wagons would be good for cover but they couldn't wait there in the dark. So he led them up a steep slope, some height, some cover and good vantage to see below.
They might be able to ambush the first few that came and then make a run for it. They would have to keep moving, finding new places to fight and ambush.
Once the Wolvun knew he was there they would bunch up and attack together, or find other ways around the sides. They would be outnumbered and outfought.

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Tactics are going to be very important here for Ingvar. First he's going to have to decide how he will spread out his "troops", they how they will fight.
Most likely everything will revolve around his ability to Hide his levy, Spot the incoming Wolvun and then dispatch them quickly and silently before giving away their position.
*2 rolls for each of Hide and Spot please*

[Helfdan]

Ingvar the Wolf

Ingvar does not waste time cursing his fate. He looks his recruits over, then hurriedly, but plainly, issues his instructions.

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Man, but Ingvar likes to get himself in trouble!
Ok, its got to be simple, so the 'troops' wont have too much trouble.

Here's what I would do:

Ingvar and three archers in a hidden position, start shooting when wolvun are within ... one range increment

the others are hidden a few feet downhill, to the side, perpendicular to the archers.

When the bad guys charge, the eleven 'light infantry' can charge from the side, and Ingvar can charge as well to help in the melee.
Then rinse and repeat a little further up.

Spot 1 (1d20+10)[12]
Spot 2 (1d20+10)[21]
Hide 1 (1d20+11)[23]
Hide 2 (1d20+11)[13]