The Roles We Play

[Kael]

Small crystalline flakes of snow fell lazily through the brisk morning air. As they descended, they caught the stark sunlight in brief, brilliant flashes before lightly coming to rest on the cold rock plateau of the Northlands called Shar'Tearim. Kael watched the flakes silently as they floated by before him and thought of how similar a warrior's life was to each of them. Every one was brilliant while it lived and, even in dying, part of something much larger than itself. And yet the life of each was short as the twinkling of an eye... Still, the rogue mounter wondered if, just as the snow could bring about the turning of a season, his army could bring about the much needed turn of the tide in the War Torn land of Vorandia.

But today was not a day to dwell on such things. This day would require every single ounce of Kael's concentration. This day, would be a day of blood...
The young leader of the rebel army looked across the barren plateau with mild sorrow and disdain in his eyes. All in the north knew that this piece of earth was used for but a single purpose: Deciding leadership. This was where a northman could challenge his appointed leader for the right to be the head of the tribe. The only possible outcome of a challenge was death, either for the challenged or the challenger.

Although most in the rebel army were steadfastly loyal to their young leader, one man had decided that Kael was unfit to lead. Now this man, a tall, musclebound man with a close cropped beard, shoulder-length hair, and wild brown eyes, stood among a few men he had rallied to his cause preparing to make good on his threats to end the Rebel Eagle Rider's leadership.

Kael had a fiery temper and was unmatched in battle, but the thought of killing this man for this reason both saddened and repulsed him. He stood as still but for the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed deeply the fresh morning air. Bits of frost clung relentlessly to the mounter-crafted bracers on the forearms of his red greatcoat. Both his shield and sword were strapped tightly to his back, the former beneath the latter, and his ivory-colored spear was clutched tightly in his right hand. The M'hadoriel, a blue jewel hanging about his neck on an indestructible silver chain, began to glow slightly as Kael began to call up a bit of his power called M'hadriakra.

At last the droning sound of a flute-like instrument sounded and began the battle. The large northman began to circle slowly, expecting Kael to follow suit. The rebel leader stood his ground with his eyes lightly closed. At last the man could stand it no longer and he rushed Kael swiftly with a piercing cry erupting from his lips. Still Kael stood unmoving. Just when it seemed as though the rogue mounter was simply going to stand and let the northman strike him down, his eyes snapped open with blue fire reflected within and he set himself in motion.

The big man brought his two-handed sword to bear and swung it in a mighty arc at Kael's chest. Before it could reach it's mark, the rogue mounter planted his spear upright in the solid granite and the northman's sword struck it and was stopped dead. In the same motion, Kael took advantageof his adversary's surprise and released his spear to slam his elbow into the northman's chest with a sickening thud. The large man careened backwards and landed hard on the stone. Before he could raise his head, he heard a telltale ringing of steel and found Kael's sword at his neck.

A chill wind blew across the barren face of the plateau and caught Kael's hair as he held his sword, giving him an extremely menacing cast. Nothing but the wind made a sound and no-one dared to move as the gazed upon the scene. The large northman's chest heaved and the look on his face was one of utter hatred towards the young rebel leader. "Stand down, Mathias," Kael said with a sharp edge to his lowered voice. Another moment of suspenseful stillnesspassed before the man named Mathias did the unthinkable. With a mighty roar he whipped a short sword from his belt and swung it at Kael. Faster than the eye could track, blue light flared from within Kael's body and shone from his eyes. With a vicious growl, he slammed the man's sword with his own and sent it skittering across the ground and off the edge of the plateau.

Mathias stumbled quickly to his feet and began to run away. The rebel leader calmly turned, jerked his spear from the stone, and hurled it at the fleeing northman. Just as he was passing one of the stone pillars, Mathias cried out in pain when the deadly shaft slammed into the stone through his shoulder and pinned him there. It was over. All the rogue mounter had to do was finish the job and he would be the undisputed leader of the rebel tribes. His blood-red greatcoat flapping in the wind behind him, Kael walked over to Mathias and raised his sword above his head. The northman closed his eyes and braced for the blow to come...

"Enough blood will be spilled on my account this day," Kael's voice rang out clear across the plateau as he sheathed his sword, "I need not add yours to the river."

"No!" the northman said through clenched teeth, "Do not strip me of my honor. Finish me!"

"You forfeit your honor when you tried to turn my men against me Mathias!" Kael roared fiercely, "You have no honor left to preserve! I simply do not feel the need to kill you this day." The rogue mounter moved in close and gripped the shaft of his spear, causing Mathias to wince, "But if you ever cross me again Mathias," Kael paused a moment before ripping the spear out and sending the northman to his knees, "you will not escape with your life."

The rebel leader turned and walked calmly back to his men who erupted in a great cheer that shook the mountains of the north. Kael finally allowed himself to smile his boyish smile and put his arms up to quiet them. When the noise had at last died down, the rebel mounter cast his voice across the plateau loud and clear, "Men of the north!" All of the men let out a single shout in response to their leader. Kael paused for a moment to be sure that all were listening before he finally shouted the words that all had been anticipating since dawn...

"Today, we hunt!"

[Kael]

The Hunt.

The the skilled hunters in Kael's tribe set out with their equipment on their backs, excitement in their hearts, and anticipation on their lips. Smells of sweat, breath, sulfur from volcanic springs, and paccacia herbs that were used for luring their prey and masking the men's scent danced upon the breeze as the men marched out for the Kiltara Pass. The hunt was the most looked forward to event in the north. It was done before any great battle or journey. The men of the tribe all came to prove their worth as hunters of the great Ice Wyrggs that only roamed the far north and gain standing and honor for their family name.

The Wyrggs were of two uses to the men of the north. The first use was for armor and weapons. Wyrgg hide was the most durable of any creature in the north and were used to make the fabled fur cloaks that the northmen wore into battle. The fur was soft and warm and the hide, when treated, could not be penetrated by arrows yet it still retained it's flexibility. These cloaks were an obviously valuable commodity.

The long, black, saber-like fangs and the slightly curved claws were also used to make weapons and tools for the army. The fangs, when shaped, made for excellent short swords that even held up against steel. The claws were used to make claw weapons that strapped onto a man's fist. Other than that, the hunters fashioned a myriad of tools from the parts of the Wyrgg that were invaluable to the tribes.

The second use for the vicious Wyrggs, was as a weapon in war. It was far more difficult to capture a Wyrgg than to simply kill one, although that was no easy feat either. The men that had been trained to handle the Wyrggs would cage hundreds of them and roll them into battle with the front lines. Pointing them in the proper direction and encouraging them forward, the enraged Wyrggs would run across the battle field and tear apart the enemy lines.

As Kael marched with his men through the snow swept pass and errant flakes blew past his face and clung to his eyelashes, he thought ahead to the coming day. He was filled with both giddy anticipation, and sickly anxiety. Tomorrow would be a day of blood...