Frozencrow

[Oshorin]

The harsh mountain wind blew vigorously, chilling all in it's

path to the bone. The sky was filled with thick clouds which blocked

out the sun. A light snow was falling. Nerig Frozencrow cared

nothing of his environment. He had been out on the frozen mountain

tops for two weeks, the only thing that mattered to him was his

objective.


His eyes were the color of glaciers. His hair as black as the

night sky. Wrinkles of intense thought plagued his face. He was

quite tall and rather round. His thin arms ended in long clawlike

fingers adapt for spell casting. He wore a large animal skin pelt

about his body and furry boots about his feet. On his back he carried

a large backpack full of various items needed for his trip. His

walk was one of determination. Focused only upon his goal, nothing

bothered him and nothing could stray him from his path. Stopping only

for rest and food every other day he continued on at a grueling pace,

searching for the one thing that could bring restitution to his life.


As he rose atop a snow covered hill the shelf of ice underneath

the snow gave way, and he tumbled down into a natural cavern bumping

his head and other body parts on jutting ridges that protruded from

the sides. When at last he reached bottom, he was near

unconsciousness. The ground spun awkwardly beneath him, and his

vision began to become blurred. After what seemed like and eternity,

he gave into the darkness and let it cradle him into a frightful

slumber.


Images he had hoped to forget flooded into his mind, and he was

helpless to defend against them. Visions of events in the not so

distant past plagued him. He saw everything that happened leading up

to his departure from Griffon's Nest.


He was in his shrine praying to the spirit of the Great

Frozencrow for the power and concentration to complete the masterful

spell he was working on. Time flew by, day into night, night into

day, and still he prayed. Time was not important, only his spell.

The spell that would gain him the deserved respect from the leader of

the town, and perhaps a position at his side. All life forgotten, he

continued to pray with intense determination, and finally could feel

the great spirit granting his prayer. He almost had mastery of the

spell when suddenly his prayers were aborted in the most heinous way.

So intently had be been praying he had not noticed his wife coming to

him, nor did he here her screams. Something warm and sticky washed

over his face, and he snapped back to reality in a flash. He opened

his eyes to find his wife, lying upon the altar in front of him, a

large gaping wound squirting blood from her back.


"Tes!" Nerig exclaimed as he cradled her in his arms. All his

training and skills forgotten, he did nothing except hold onto her and

cry, while she slowly drifted off into the spirit realm for all of

eternity. "Tes, what has happened? H-h-how? W-w-ho?" he choked out

between sobs.


With her last ounce of strength she looked into his eyes, the

eyes she had fallen in love with so many years ago, and said,

"Elf....Kr-kr-kralga...." Her eyes fluttered once, and blood began to

flow freely from her mouth. She choked upon her last words and died

in his arms.


He cried, more for himself than for her. Although she had

always been the second love of his life, he would miss her greatly.

Rocking back and forth, holding her in his arms, covered in her

blood, he cried. Not more than a month before she had given birth to

Nerig's first born son, and it would appear that it would be his only

son. The beliefs in the Frozencrow clan were simple, one life, one

wife, all else is forgotten. The boy it would seem was in for a life

of hardships as well. To be raised without a mother would make him

rough and strong willed.


Nerig thought back to his father while he sat there holding the

corpse of his wife. Neralk also had been raised without a mother. He

had been callous and cold, often neglecting his son for the simple

reason he didn't know any better. Love was not something he had been

taught as a child, and he didn't learn any better as an adult.

Choosing to side with Holgar, perhaps the rightful ruler of Griffon's

Nest, he had met an untimely death the day before Nerig's wedding to

Tes. Rumors were spread frequently that Kralgar himself had killed

the mighty warrior Neralk, but Nerig paid little attention to these.

Being slightly naive and strong-willed, he believed that Kralgar was

fair and open minded to others and that he could never have had

anything to do with the murder of his father.


When at last he could finally control his emotions, he got up

and covered the body of his wife in a sheepskin blanket. He went to

his home just outside of the city limits, about two blocks from his

shrine. It was a small house built of cordwood and mud. Upon the big

door was a painting of the Great Frozencrow. Small windows dotted

each side of the house and a chimney poked through the roof. He

wouldn't have had to know where he was going to get there. A trail of

blood stained the snow leaving a grizzly trail back to the scene of

the his wife's demise. He was searching for answers, some clue as to

who or what could have committed such a violent act against his wife.


In a daze of thoughts and mixed feelings of regret he reached

his home and flung the door open. He could see now that his wife had

been attacked inside his home. The smell of baking bread floated

softly on the air, meats were stacked upon the table for some dish she

was preparing. A huge puddle of blood was spilled across the floor.

He started to cry again. Then a sound, foreign at first, and then all

too real and recognizable penetrated into his skull. The baby was

crying.


He went into his son's room and seen that he had been moved from

his cradle and put upon the floor. Sticking firmly into the ground

beside the child was a slender dagger. Nerig quickly grabbed his

child and the dagger. Holding his son in one arm and the dagger in

the other he rushed out the door and over to Tes's mother's house.

Her father was off on a hunting expedition leaving just his wife at

home. She knew something was wrong the moment she laid eyes upon

Nerig, all covered in blood, holding a baby and a dagger.


"I don't have time to talk, please watch over young Larem here

until I return," Nerig said quickly while handing the baby to his

mother-in-law. "Someone has killed Tes. If I leave now I might have

a chance at catching this villain and bring about my revenge. I also

seek answers, she said something most disturbing before she died. I

must leave now."


"My daughter, dead!" Tes's mother wept. "I will watch over

Larem until you return."


Nerig didn't wait for her to say anymore. He quickly turned and

left out the door and headed back to his home. Upon reaching it he

searched for anything out of the ordinary as to give him clues to what

had happened here. Nothing had been stolen, so theft was not a motive

for the heinous act. The only thing he could find that was weird was

that there were two mugs of ale sitting on the table. He had been

gone for days, so who ever had done this had been let inside and been

given something to drink. A friend perhaps, or a friendly stranger.


He turned his attention to the dagger in his hand. Nothing

could be determined of it except that it was of elvish make and

covered in elvish script. Her words came to his mind once again,

"Elf....Kr-kr-kralga...." He was looking for an elf, but what was the

connection with Kralgar? How could he be involved with an elf? Why

would an elf kill his wife? So many questions, and no answers forth

coming.


He headed into his room and began to pack for a long journey

into the great unknown. Elves being quite smaller than Barbarians,

meant that the tracks would be smaller also so he could follow the

trail left through the snow fairly easy. Neralk had taught him the

basics of tracking when he was younger, although the path through life

he chose was not one of a hunter, he still remembered how to do it.


He followed the trail fairly easily through the snow covered

ground of Griffon's Nest. Then the puzzle pieces began to fall into

place. The tracks led to the clan hall of Kralgar Bonesnapper.

So Kralgar was involved, but how, and why? A confrontation with the

leader of the town was not what he wanted at this juncture in time.

False accusations could be fatal. What would he say to Kralgar? How

would he go about questioning him? He didn’t have time to figure it

out right now, so he set upon following another set of elven tracks.

These were quite a bit fresher than the others, and they led out of

town and into the mountains.


As he trudged onward, his mind kept working. He thought about

the things he had seen, and how they all were connected. He tried and

tried to find a reasonable answer as to what Kralgar had to do with

the slaying of his wife, but none could be found. He traveled for

weeks, following the thinning trail through the vast mountains of the

north. A small hill rose in front of him, and as he reached the

summit, the ground gave way beneath his feet.....


Waking in a cold sweat, Nerig carefully sat up. He was covered

in bruises, and blood poured from an open wound on his forehead.

After regaining control of his foggy mind, he glanced around at his

surroundings. He was in the bottom of a deep carven of ice, a good 20

feet to the top. The walls were solid ice and provided little to use

as hand and foot holds to climb out. The interior was at least ten

feet wide and there was no other visible means to escape. He had to

concentrate. He had to focus on his training and his faith in the

Great Frozencrow spirit.


Always when asking for the blessings of the spirit he would

think back to the stories of his great great grandfather and how he

had found the crow frozen in solid ice so many years ago. The spirit

called out to him and asked for his merciful blade to set him free.

In doing so all the generations to come had be able to pray and listen

to the will of the Great Frozencrow spirit.


Summoning forth a powerful blessing from his liege, he floated

swiftly to the top, and safely onto a solid patch of ground just past

an edge of the cavern.


The last thing he remembered was falling. The sun had been low

in the sky, and now it was nearly dark. How long had he been

unconscious? A few hours or days? He didn’t know for sure. Slowly

he regained his composure and continued to follow the quickly d

disappearing tracks left by his elven target. Snow was coming down

faster now making it hard to see the ground, tracks that were so easy

to read and follow before were quickly filling up with snow and

vanishing from sight.


Another day past, and then another. He was beginning to think

he would lose this chase, but wait, something up ahead. The form of a

humanoid lying in the snow. As he got closer he could make out the

shape, slender short and pointed ears. An elf, perhaps the elf he

sought. It had to be, the tracks led to this person.


As he approached, he noticed the elf was near death, the

coldness was something elves were not accustomed to. He probably

would have pitied the elf had he not slain his wife. He thought

about leaving the elf to die and returning home, but then his mind got

the better of him. He needed answers, and only the elf could provide

them.


It took awhile to dig out a hole into the ground into which the

elf and himself could find shelter from the cold. By the time he was

done the falling snow had turned into a raging storm threatening to

engulf everything in it’s wrath. He quickly got the elf inside his

shelter and began to close off the entrance to keep the heat of their

bodies in.


As time past, he studied the elf, wandering just how to go about

interrogating him should he survive. Nerig took care in carefully

nursing him back to health. He also took the liberty of removing all

the elf's weapons. He carried many daggers, but none of them matched

the one found in his home. He had little money on him and even less

warm clothing. It seemed as if the elf had not planed on coming into

this harsh climated area.


After awhile the elf regained consciousness, and was quite

surprised to see himself where he was. Upon eyeing Nerig, his hand

quickly leapt for his belt where he had carried his daggers, but

they were gone. The elf then looked around for means to escape.

Nerig eyed him for a minute before speaking.


"I've been following you for weeks now. Let it be known I am

going to kill you, but I want some answers first," Nerig began

speaking in common. "If you cooperate, I will slay you fast and

painlessly. If you do not, I'm afraid I'll have to resort to more

persuasive means of interrogation." He glanced at the elf to see if

he was comprehending what was being said, and by the look of terror

on his face it appeared as though he understood. "First, why did you

kill my wife," Nerig asked.


The elf's wide eyed fearful expression changed into one of mild

annoyance, and he smiled at him and gave a slight shrugging gesture

before replying. "I'm afraid you have caught the wrong assassin.

I've never seen you before, nor have I killed your wife."


"You lie!" Nerig snarled. The tracks from my home lead to

you, and I found an elven dagger in my home."


"Aye, the tracks may have led to me, but they were not mine.

Might I see this dagger you speak of?"


"So you can gut me? I don't think so."


"I do not require holding it, just show me it, so that I might

know of what you speak," the elf calmly said.


Nerig eyed the elf. He was in charge here, the elf had murdered

his wife, and now was trying to gain the upper hand against him. He

decided to show my the knife, but he kept his other hand occupied with

the sword he had brought along. As he raised the knife up, the elf

seemed to look rather pleased, as if he enjoyed tormenting the

barbarian.


"That's not one of my knifes good sir, but I am pleased to see

it," the elf casually remarked.


"Pleased to see it?!?" Nerig exclaimed. "You killed my wife

with this knife!" His grip upon the sword tightened and he leveled it

at the elf.


"Killing me won't help either of us find the other elf who

killed your wife."


"What other elf? The tracks led to you. You killed her!"

Nerig was fuming with rage, and bloodlust for revenge.


"I didn't kill your wife, and yes the tracks led to me, you're

not a tracker are you? The first thing we are taught is to hid

ourselves from being sought. I simply followed in the footsteps of

the rogue I am after, and have been for quite some time," the elf said

not taking his eyes off the dagger Nerig held.


"You lie, you would trick me into friendship so you could kill

me like you did my wife."


"That dagger you hold is a calling card, and it has the name of

the assassin and who hired him inscribed upon it. I had one too, but

I made sure to put it into the heart of the one who hired this

assassin. Now I seek him out, to get my final vengeance. Now I see

why he has come to such a cold and miserable climate, money. Blood

money to strike a blow at you or your clan or to make you back off of

something."


"What are you talking about elf?" Nerig asked. He was upset

that the elf was messing with his mind.


"I too was visited by this assassin, I found that when you have

something you love, it can be taken from you and exploited. I had

been appointed guardian of the peoples in our town. I could do

as I pleased to catch criminals and stop the unjustly acts of the

nobles. I stepped on one too many toes and a greedy elven noble

decided it was time to put an end to my meddling in his affairs. He

hired an assassin, a very good and deadly assassin to get the point

across, such is the practice in the civilized elven nation. I came

home one day to find my younger brother slain, and dagger much like

the one you hold now." The elf paused to whip a tear from his eyes

before continuing, "I was furious, my one and only living relative

murdered. I took the knife and put it into the heart of the one who

hired the assassin. Next I set out in search of this heartless

bastard."


"Your telling me you are hunting another elf? But how do you

know who he is, and who hired him?" Nerig was getting confused, and a

little scared that he was starting to believe.


"I told you, the dagger is a calling card, the script upon it

has the name of the assassin and his employer."


"I can't read elvish writing," Nerig muttered.


"I can, " the elf replied holding out his hand.


Cautiously, Nerig handed him the dagger and scooted back against

the wall of his shelter. After a moment of eyeing the dagger, the elf

looked up and said, "Kralgar Bonesnapper hired this rogue."


"What is the name of the elf assassin?" Nerig asked

flabbergasted that what the elf was telling him was actually true.


"Grullathonlas"


"I will not rest until he is dead!" Nerig swore. Now he had

some answers, and a name to go upon, but the rest of the equation was

still a mystery.


"It would appear as though we have a common interest, might you

need some company?" the elf asked. "Even if you say no, remember I am

here to kill him, so I'm going to find him with or without you."


"Doesn't look like I have a choice," Nerig said. He extended

his hand and said, "My name is Nerig Frozencrow."


The elf grasped his hand firmly and said, "Oshorin is my name."


Later that day when the storm had died down, they left the

shelter together, and started off in pursuit of the infamous rogue

assassin Grullathonlas. The storm having erased all tracks upon the

ground they decided to head out towards the nearest town. Several

days past before they reached the next town of Neverwinter. In less

than five minutes they had located an innkeeper who was kind enough to

part with some information regarding the whereabouts of the other elf.

It seemed he had rented a room and had not left it since his arrival.

With further persuasion and a lot of gold, he gave the unlikely pair a

spare key to the room.


They crept up the stairs not knowing what to expect. Oshorin

took the lead and motioned for Nerig to stay quiet and out of sight.

Oshorin unlocked the door and flung it open to reveal an empty room.

He cautiously took a couple steps forward. From the ceiling above him

a dark figure leapt down from his hiding place and jabbed viciously at

Oshorin's side, inflicting a deep wound. Oshorin cried out in pain and

hit the floor holding his side in pain. He reached for a throwing

dagger tucked into his left boot. As he pulled it free, Grullathonlas

kicked it out of his hand.


Chuckling Grullathonlas said, "I've been expecting you Oshorin.

I was beginning to think you weren't gonna make it." He laughed again

and kicked Oshorin hard in the side where the knife wound was.


"You are gonna die for the crimes you committed Grullathonlas,

all the innocent people you slaughtered," Oshorin cried out in pain.


"And just who is gonna kill me? You Oshorin?" Grullathonlas

laughed again. "You couldn't kill a sleeping child. When I think of

how long you've chased after me, it's a shame it had to end like

this."


"You will die," Oshorin whimpered.


"I may perhaps, but not by your hand, and not today." With

saying that he produced a dagger from his sleeve and sliced the blade

along Oshorin's throat. Blood squirted freely from the wound, and

Oshorin slowly started choking to death. "I have won yet again, when

will people learn I'm the master of my own destiny? I can not be

stopped by the likes of spineless scum like yo......"


Grullathonlas stopped dead in his boasting to stare at a sword

protruding from his gut. He turned to eye the person who had ended

his life, and then fell over, dead.


"That was for Tes," Nerig spit.


"Oshorin are you okay?" Nerig said finally realizing that his

elven companion was in grave danger. He looked Oshorin over and

realized he was almost dead, barely hanging onto life. He knew now

that he could not weep, he could not show weakness like he did when

Tes came to him.


He prayed hard, not for himself but for the life of the elf.

This pleased the spirit of the Great Frozencrow, and Nerig was granted

with the magical power to heal the wounds of the dying elf.

Several weeks later Nerig and Oshorin returned to Griffon's

Nest. The magic spun by Nerig that day had saved Oshorin's life, but

could not heal his damaged vocal cords. Oshorin would be mute for the

rest of his life.


They went to the home of Tes's mother, whom true to her good

word had watched over young Larem as if he was her own. She was old,

and seemed to be very sick. Nerig knew that taking care of a baby had

taken it's toll upon her. He spoke briefly with her, and told her

about their travels, and his revenge. He then said something that

shocked both of the people in the room.


"I am going to get my final revenge and the answers that will

put an end to this mess. This last act I must do on my own, and I

fear I may not return from it. I know that you are old and weak," he

said to Tes's mother. "Leaving my child here with you would be wrong.

And yet I can't take him with me, so I am going to leave him in the

custody of Oshorin." To Oshorin he said, "Raise him as a brother

Oshorin, protect him and guard him his whole life. Keep him out of

trouble and Never leave his side. I trust you, and I know what I must

do." Upon saying this, he took a knife from his belt, the same knife

that had slain his wife, and slit his palm. He grabbed Oshorin's hand

and did the same. Then he embraced the elf's hand with his so that

the blood flowed freely between the two.


After a couple of minutes Nerig released his grasp and said, "My

blood flows through you, the blood of the Frozencrow's. Remember what

I have taught you about the Great Frozencrow so that you can teach

young Larem so that he too may follow in the steps of his fore fathers

in the worship of the spirit."


Oshorin nodded at him and took the baby into his arms. He

stared long and hard out the door as he watched Nerig head towards the

clan hall of Kralgar Bonesnapper.


Written by Larem