Asterix stared out from the window, yawning out of utter boredom. He had been holed up in the lodge for four long days now. It may be cold outside, but he longed to get out again. To get things done. Many job opportunities had opened up for the rebuilding of Lion's Arch. Though he was eager to go, Margrit wouldn't let him leave her stead until she decided he was doing better. And while he kept trying to convince her he was feeling well, she was ever more persistent that he was not. She would offer him simple chores to distract himself as a consolation, but it was not enough to keep a warrior entertained. Margrit was often too busy with her own work. He felt like a child that needed babysitting.
"Bobbo, come," Margrit told while she took a bow and quiver of arrows from her weapon rack. She was dressed in her leather armor; with a long coat made out of thick, strong cloth and wolf fur. She hung the quiver over her shoulder, while the brown bear got up and trailed closely behind her. Standing close to his master, Bobbo looked much more like a really fat dog, rather than a bear.
Asterix looked at her while she prepared herself. "Going hunting?"
"Yup. We're almost out of meat," Margrit answered. "Think you'll be all right on your own?"
What a surprise. She still didn't want him going outside.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," he said, while he quickly set his gaze back to the window, trying to avoid any sarcasm in his voice. A muscle on his face twitched, and he could barely contain his frustration.
Margrit smiled a little nervously. He tried to be stoic about it, but she could tell he was upset. "All right, I'll be back later." She opened the door, and before going out, she glanced back doubtfully for one last time. But then, she left, the bear followed, and the door was shut and locked. However, she always left him a key in the drawer, in case of emergencies. It would do little good antagonizing the Gaul further.
Asterix waited from the window until she vanished into the woods. When she was completely out of sight, his posture slumped and he groaned miserably. "This is worse than being trapped by Inquest. At least there I didn't have an open door to tempt me." He huffed, letting his head support in the palm of his hand.
Dogmatix yawned and looked up at his master. He stood up, approaching the door intently. Asterix looked back down at the pup, watching as he placed his paws against the wood, peered back at Asterix again, and began to whine.
The Gaul smiled, then frowned apologetically. "Sorry buddy, I can't go outside, and I can't let you out on your own either. Something might try to eat you."
Dogmatix responded by cocking his head sideways and letting out a yip. He turned back to the wooden door, scratching it slightly, and whining some more.
"Be happy you're allowed to go out at all," Asterix told as if the dog would understand.
The white terrier scratched the door some more, expecting Asterix to open it for him. But then, the dog perked his ears as he heard the sound of feet trudging through snow. They sounded heavier than Margrit's. Dogmatix started to growl.
"What's wrong?" asked Asterix. He turned his head to look out the window, spotting the silhouette of a large norn approaching the stead. From what he could tell, it was definitely not Margrit. Far too bulky, and no bear was to be seen. It unnerved the Gaul. What if it was one of those Sons of Svanir coming back for revenge?
If so, he would have to be ready for a fight. He jumped out of the seat, rushing to grab the sheath that contained his sword from Margrit's weapon rack. He held his hand close to the blade's handle, ready to grip it if the intruder decided to try and kick the door down.
But there was a friendly knock that sounded, not a kick. Dogmatix snarled, baring his teeth and growling while he backed up.
"Hush," Asterix hissed.
The deep voice of a man came from behind the door. "I know yer 'ere, I can hear ye. C'mon, open up. It's me, Horin. Th' repairman."
Indeed, Asterix remembered that voice. It was a difficult one to forget, given that aside from the obvious accent, it sounded exactly like Obelix's. That was all the confirmation he needed. His tensed pose relaxed and he set the sheath against the wall. "Okay, just a second." He walked to the kitchen, dug into one of the drawers, and took the key out. He then approached the door again, unlocking it. A large, muscular and freckled norn man in heavy armor, accompanied with a long bow and quiver, stood there, grinning. He had long red hair tied at the back of his neck with a strap of leather, and his beard had braids in it. Tiny green eyes gazed down at the human.
"Oho! There ye be," he said.
"Hello, Horin."
"How're ye doin' lil' man?" The norn scanned Asterix intently, noting the subtle bruises on his bare skin.
"Could be better, I guess." Asterix answered while he let the man inside. "I don't really like being called little. Just so you know," he pointed out.
"Ah, what do ye like bein' called, then?" asked the norn as he walked in.
"By my name. Asterix," the Gaul answered. He raised a hand halfway, but withdrew it again quickly when he remembered how strong a norn's handshake was. Horin didn't seem to mind. Either that or he simply did not notice.
"Well then, good t' meet ye, Asterix." The norn made himself at home, and sat down on a chair, raising a leg to rest a dirty boot against the table. Asterix stared disapprovingly. He knew Margrit didn't like it when people smudged her house.
He cleared his throat, "Margrit isn't here right now. Uh, did you want anything to drink?"
"Beer, if ye have it." The norn smiled.
Asterix pondered. "Yeah, I think we do. Let me go look," he said. There were indeed some barrels of beer stored neatly in the back of the kitchen. He took a gander at the smaller one to the front. He couldn't quite make out the words scribbled on the wood, but he decided to bring it out anyway. The norn showed a sprightly smile when he saw the barrel rolling across the floor.
"Ah! Bear's Brown. Ye got a refined taste!"
"I never had it." Asterix gazed dumbly at the foreign letters on the barrel as he turned it back to its chime. "Couldn't even tell what it is. I just picked the one I could get in here."
"Ye never had it!?" Horin gaped in surprise. "Then have one with me! Promise ye'll love it."
The bung was unplugged, and two pints were filled. One full, one at half. In one swig, Horin chugged his beer half-empty, setting it down on the table with a loud clunk. Asterix was less excited, barely even touching the stuff. He just took a sip, then started fiddling with the mug's handle while having a blank stare on his face.
Horin eyed the human. "What's wrong? Is it too strong fer ye?"
"No, no. It's fine. I'm just not really in the mood for it right now," said Asterix, sighing. Horin then squinted. Not because the smaller man didn't want the drink, but because he only now noticed how worn-out he really looked. There was a clean band aid carefully placed on one side of his head, almost fully hidden under his helm, near the temple where claws had cut into skin. It was secured with a strap of bandage. The same side of his face was also slightly discolored from physical trauma.
"How'd ye get them bruises on ye, lad?" Though the large man knew he should show more compassion, he couldn't help but to grin like an idiot, as if he already knew the answer.
Asterix groaned under his breath. "It's a long story… But in short, I acted like an idiot and shot someone in the leg." He pointed at the sore side of his face. "This was their answer to me."
"It was you who got into a charr brawl!? 'Tis really true then!" Horin laughed. "Must'a been glorious! Ye got real guts. I'm proud o' ye."
Asterix stared, dumbfounded. This was the first time he was being praised for the incident, and it came completely out of the blue. He didn't even mention any charr. "What? How did you know?"
"Lad, everybody's talkin' about it. 'Tis a moot* thing. One charr who saw it happen told us 'bout what ye did, and then word began t' spread. A lil'- I mean, a human, pickin' a fight with a Blood legion charr?" Horin laughed and slammed a fist on the table. "Tha's a winner!"
"Well, Margrit wasn't all too happy about it." Asterix sighed. "And I wasn't exactly picking a fight. I tried to break it up. But instead I just got caught in it…" He carefully rubbed the side of his face, his jaw still feeling a bit stiff from the paw that collided with it.
"Either way, 'tis real brave. Most humans wouldn't even dare doin' what ye tried." Horin said. He lifted his pint once more, and chugged the rest of the beer. "Where's Margrit anyway?" he asked as he the empty mug down.
"Out hunting."
"And ye didn't go with her?"
"I would, but she won't even let me take one step outside the door after that stupid incident!" Asterix sighed, and rubbed the temple that was not covered with bandage. "It kills me."
"She don't, eh?" Horin hummed, leaning back in the chair and fiddling his beard. "Tha's… concernin'."
Asterix looked up at the norn. "Concerning?"
Horin nodded, a thoughtful frown appearing on his face. "Just somethin' personal. I'll talk with her 'bout it. Don't ye worry yer head over it, kay?"
Asterix nodded quietly, even though he felt conflicted over it. If there was anything concerning about Margrit's behavior towards him, it should be his problem to solve, not someone else's. But then again, being a good friend of hers, Horin probably knew her much better than he did, and would know what to do about it.
"Anywho, how 'bout we do somethin' fun?" Horin piped up. "Ye look as bored as a hyena tha' can't laugh."
The Gaul let out a sarcastic chuckle. "There are some dirty dishes in the kitchen, if you want to have 'fun' here."
"I was actually thinkin' of somethin' more excitin'. How 'bout a lil' huntin'?"
"As much as I love hunting, I can't leave…"
"Why, what's stoppin' ye?" asked Horin. "Marge ain't here, th' door's unlocked, and yer lil' hound seems t' want out too."
"I don't want to break her trust in me."
"Listen 'ere, buddy," Horin leaned to the front and peered the smaller man in the eyes. "She may be thinkin' yer unwell, but the question is: do ye feel that way?"
Asterix backed up slightly when the norn got closer, looking a bit surprised. "N-no. A little sore, maybe. But not unwell."
"Then, let's go huntin'! She won't 'ave to know. Besides, ye only live n' die once!"
Asterix rolled his eyes. "Live and die once… Load of bull," he muttered.
"Wazzat?" Horin blinked. Asterix felt himself sink a bit in his seat upon realizing what he said. But then, thankfully, the norn hummed and leaned back again. "Actually, ye're right. If ye were turned into undead, ye'd live n' die more than once, I suppose." He scratched the skin under his beard. "Good thing Zhaitan's* a goner. Less stinkin' livin' corpses t' deal with now."
The Gaul cringed in disgust. He expected Horin to question his remark. Instead he learned Tyria also had an undead infestation. How lovely.
"Hey, c'mon, bud." The norn leaned to the front once again, nudging Asterix in the arm where it didn't look sore. "We'll hunt somethin' easy, like a deer. Ye'll get to stretch yer legs. Whaddaya say?"
Asterix gave it some careful thought. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt if we're gone for just a few minutes…"
"Tha's more like it. Get ready. I'll be waitin' outside t' keep an eye out."
While Horin waited, Asterix got into his mountain gear. Provided with a budget, he visited Hoelbrak several days ago to buy some proper clothes specifically for the Shiverpeaks' harsh weather conditions. Instead of one meager wool scarf, he now had a fur cloak, snow boots, padded vambraces, and even had enough money left for a single shoulder plate; all customized, of course. The norn didn't forge armor for asura-sized people often, but they didn't seem to mind doing it. After he was dressed for the outdoors, he approached the weapon rack and took out a small short bow, as well as a quiver with several arrows in it, and hung it around his unarmed shoulder. He also had his gun and sword attached to his belt. Just to be safe.
Now properly prepared for the hunt, Asterix stopped in front of the door and stared hesitantly. He knew that he was about to ignore an order from Margrit. The nagging thought of the possibility he might get caught gnawed at his mind. He may even be expelled from the steading as a guest.
But then again, what if he didn't get caught? What harm could thirty minutes do? He wasn't even planning to really hunt, he just wanted to get some fresh air and take a nice walk. He could even go back to the stead early once he felt he had enough.
Was it worth the risk?
"Hey, the more ye wait, the less time we got," Horin called out from behind the window.
"Okay," he whispered to himself. Dogmatix waited impatiently, watching his human place a hand on the doorknob, and waiting several seconds to take a breath. Finally, he pulled.
The cold hit his face like a rock, but gods almighty, the air was so fresh! It was as though he had forgotten what the Shiverpeaks were like. It may be eternal frost out, but the aura of the place made him feel somehow stronger. It encouraged him to explore. Even Dogmatix was excited, jumping through the fresh snow and yipping happily.
Horin looked down at Asterix, grinning when he saw how much he already enjoyed being outdoors again. He eyed the bow in his hand. Isn't that…?
"Nice lil' shooter ye got there," he remarked.
"Huh?" Asterix stared obliviously at the norn, then eventually looked down at the short bow in his hand. "Oh, yeah. I'm not really good with it yet. Margrit would let me practice with it on the trees." He pointed a thumb at one old spruce behind him in particular. It had a bullseye painted on its bark, and there were at least a dozen arrows left and right, and up and down. None of them hit the actual target.
Horin grinned from ear to ear when he saw the miserable display of marksmanship. "Let's see how well ye are with live targets, mate." The norn took out his own bow from his back. Each limb spanned the Gaul's own length. It was perhaps the largest bow he'd ever seen. The norn raised a hand, and pointed into the woods. "I know some good huntin' grounds to the north. Let's go."
Asterix nodded. "Right behind you."
The taiga forest was dense. The frost formed rime on bark, and the snow was thick and undisturbed, safe for the road. Along the side of the road, the footprints of two men led into the forest, away from the safety of the route. Some of the footprints were large, while the others were smaller, and shoveled snow along in their steps.
Asterix couldn't help but feel nerved about what he was doing. His mind and body urged him to stop, turn, and go back. Yet the mountains beckoned, the wind whispering sweet promises of adventure. Something that he longed for a long while, especially in this unknown world, where everything was new to him. For all he knew, he could be sighting a feral minotaur. He'd been told they were quite common in the region. Or what if he met one of the ancient giants known as the Jotun? Best to hope they were friendly. Dogmatix was kept in his collar, otherwise he would become lost in the snow again.
Horin led the small hunting party, keeping nearly as quiet as death, which disturbed Asterix. It was very unusual for him to see a norn, who were normally quite cacophonous, making effort in being silent. But he knew he did this for a purpose. There was no point in alerting their presence to any creatures. When it came to hunting, the norn were quite the experts.
The wind was in their favor too. It crept uphill, while the two traveled down. Suddenly, Horin held a hand up. He saw something. They both knelt down and drew an arrow from their quivers. The Gaul gazed at the creature. It looked much like a bear, but also very different from a bear. Its snout was shorter, with long fangs sticking out from under its chops, giving it a menacing look. Its fur was gray like a wolf, and its back was hunched and concealed more muscle than fat.
"Arctodus," the norn whispered. "Too dangerous fer a newbie. Stay 'ere, I'll take this one."
"A newbie?" Asterix scoffed. If anything he was a decent enough hunter! Nonetheless, he had to remember he was not in the position where he could just take on anything bare-handed. And so he obeyed, and stayed put while the norn stalked his target. While waiting, he began to look around, making sure he wasn't being stalked by something else. In this wilderness, paranoia was, in fact, quite beneficial.
Suddenly, Dogmatix perked his ears, gazing into the bushes, and began to growl.
"What's wrong?" He looked into the same direction. It was just a polar rabbit. It stared back at the two, black-tipped ears raised like antennas.
The pup hopped out of Asterix's collar, barking and chasing after the critter, who dashed away into the bushes. Asterix in turn got up and chased after the pup. "No! Dogmatix, Here!" He crashed through the bushes, trying to catch up to the dog. Then, after a short chase, Asterix found himself needing to catch his breath. He stopped for a minute. Running uphill was no easy task.
After he recollected his air again, he called the animal's name. "Dogmatix!"
The sound of yipping echoed in the distance. Asterix scanned the snow for footprints. Then, something else caught his eye. In the otherwise pristine snow surface, a splotch of blackness could be seen. At first, it looked as if coal was rubbed into it.
Curiously, Asterix approached the smudge, and noticed that it was something hidden under the snow. A twig, perhaps? But it glowed an eerie blue luminance. He knelt down beside it, took out a gloved hand and shoved some snow aside.
It was a shard of ice. Icy blue, with streaks of black crawling across its surface. That same blackness rooted itself into the snow, ever so slowly, as if corrupting it. He looked further, and found more shards of the dark ice hidden under the bushes. It looked as if it crept out from underneath, rooted into the ground and spreading as if it were a parasitic vine.
But how was that even possible? Ice didn't normally grow, let alone even have any color. It wasn't dense enough… Asterix hesitated. Maybe it was better off left alone. He should just find back Dogmatix, and-
Then, he abruptly raised his head, helm-wings raised like an alarmed hare. He heard a distressed scream in the distance. And the voice sounded familiar. It was the pained cry of a deep-voiced woman. He turned pale.
It was Margrit. He was sure of it. She was in trouble. He got up from his knees, rushing into the direction from where he heard Margrit's voice. Dogmatix would find his way back. Most dogs did. As he ran, he noticed the same dark ice trailing like footsteps. It was as if some creature emitted this dark magic.
Soon, he came crashing through the thicket, finding the norness pinned to the ground in a clearing. Her bear was clubbed on the head, laying knocked out in the snow. And there was another, unknown figure; a norn male. He stood before her, bony back turned to Asterix. He held a mace in one hand, and an axe in the other. Both weapons were frozen in the man's grip, his fists nothing but blocks of black ice, and he himself was covered in rime and frost. Spikes of black ice grew from his head and shoulders like horns.
Black ice. This man was the source of the anomaly.
"Margrit!"
"What?" the norness looked, and her face went pale with shock. Why was he here!?
The man also turned, and looked at Asterix. The Gaul's eyes widened as he took a step back in horror. The man attacking Margrit couldn't be alive! His face was but a skull, with pale frozen flesh dangling from the bone. There was no blood that leaked, either drained from his body or turned solid. His eyeless sockets glowed with an icy blue aura. How was he even able to move, if he was dead and frozen like this?
"Run!" Margrit cried out. But the enemy approached Asterix, while he did not move, either standing his ground, or frozen in fear. She couldn't tell.
"Come here, little man," said the monster, his voice scratching like rock against ice. It swung the axe in its frozen grip around threateningly.
Asterix said nothing. He took an arrow from his quiver, setting it to his bow. Drawing back the string, he intended to cripple the creature. He could barely keep himself from gazing at its face. While keeping the arrow aimed at it, Asterix strafed to the side, not wanting to accidently shoot his friend. The threat did not faze the dead man, and he followed, slowly and eerily, watching the Gaul with piqued interest.
"Come any closer and I'll shoot!" he yelled.
"Go ahead, shoot me. Jormag makes me invincible!" the creature retorted laughingly, not halting in its step.
"You can't kill it! He's too-" Margrit hissed in pain. "Just run!"
No, he wouldn't run. Not when Margrit's life was at stake! He released the arrow, and it struck the monster in the shin. He was expecting it to cry out in pain, but instead it didn't even flinch, and it was still walking towards him. It laughed.
Quickly, Asterix drew out another arrow. This time, he aimed for the heart. Without even a second of hesitation, he pulled the bowstring, aimed, and released. It pierced an arm, but again, no flinch, no pain. Just laughter. The creature raised its axe, speeding its pace. "Die!"
The warrior stared in utter terror. His hand was about to reach for his sword out of instinct, but he realized he couldn't fight this thing. In a stroke of panic, he jumped away at the last moment. The axe struck in the spot where he stood seconds ago.
Like an eagle, the monster did not avert his gaze from the human, the eyeless sockets of his skull piercing into the Gaul. Asterix paced back several feet, shakily reaching out for another arrow. The frozen man pulled the axe out of the ground with relative ease, and once again, began to approach him. This time, it ran towards him, wailing like the damned.
No time to flee. This was his last try. Asterix pulled the arrow back as far as he could, lending it all his strength as he aimed without anything to focus on, praying it would strike where it would hurt the thing.
The monster screeched. Margrit cried out his name.
He shut his eyes, and he let the arrow fly.
He heard a crack, a thud, and the screaming stopped.
…
Am I dead?
No, he couldn't be. He wouldn't be thinking otherwise. He wouldn't be hearing the wind and feeling the cold air. He wouldn't be breathing. Slowly, Asterix convinced himself to open his eyes.
The frozen norn laid before him, dead. Truly dead. The arrow had struck it deep in its skull, killing the brain. Such luck he never had. There was no more eerie glow in its dull sockets, that would give away a sign of life. The force that animated and controlled it was gone.
Gazing at the corpse, he felt his stomach twist.
"Asterix," a female voice whimpered.
Asterix snapped out of the trance, swallowing and forcing back his nausea. He quickly ran toward an injured Margrit. She held a hand firm against her bleeding arm. Her leg was clearly broken.
"Margrit, it's okay! I'm going to get help," he said. But he was greeted with rage and anguish.
"Why did you leave the stead!? You're not strong enough!" she shouted. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "You never listen!"
Asterix simply stared back at her. He was speechless. Almost shaking.
Suddenly, Horin came crashing through the thickets. He had Dogmatix fitted in his hand. "There ye be! By Bear!" he cried. "I found yer beastie alone, and got wor-" he slowed down when he saw the scene. "What happen'd?"
"Horin! Help me up," Margrit demanded. The man approached.
"No," Asterix suddenly interrupted, shooting Horin a stern, angry gaze. He then turned the same look at Margrit.
"Stopping the bleeding is our first priority."
"Don't you dare," Margrit hissed.
"I know what I'm doing," said Asterix.
"Asterix, stop pretending to be a hero!" her voice turned low and threatening, as if she were scolding a child. To Asterix, that was the last straw.
"And YOU stop acting like only YOU know what's best!" he yelled in a fit of rage.
Then there was silence. Now it was her turn to be speechless. She could read fear in his eyes. Hear it in his voice. He was worried sick for her well-being, just like she was for his.
Finally, she closed her eyes and nodded obediently, and she allowed him to treat her. He inspected the wound carefully. The cut on her arm wasn't very large, suggesting that she was able to fight off the frozen creature before he crippled her. However, the bleeding was serious, indicating an artery was struck. With no preparation for a situation like this, Asterix took off his own belt, making sure the weapons tied around it were removed, and he wrapped it around the injury, fastening it just tightly enough so that the bleeding ceased mostly, but still allowed some circulation. Margrit cringed and hissed in pain. Meanwhile, Horin succeeded in waking the unconscious brown bear.
"That's all I can do here. Now we need to get you home," said Asterix.
"Aye, come on, lass." Horin helped the disgruntled woman stand. And they slowly walked back to her stead. Bobbo stumbled behind.
Asterix and Dogmatix remained in the clearing for only a minute. He collected his weapons, fitting them under one arm, now that he had no belt to tie them to. He then also picked Dogmatix up in his free hand, making sure he wouldn't run off again. He stopped for a moment, looking at the stain of blood in the snow, as well as the dead creature that laid further up. He remembered that it mentioned a name. Jormag, wasn't it?
Jormag… one of those Elder Dragons.
This was a dragon's doing?
Whoever that man used to be, at least now he was free. Asterix had other problems to worry about now. And with that conclusion in mind, he began to walk south. To catch up with his friends.
* Moot: a celebration party among norn. Usually consists of drinking, boasting, brawling and storytelling.
* Zhaitan: Elder Dragon of death and shadows