The three of 'em stared for a moment, five eyes set on one another. "Now, look.." Brulk held out his hands, palms open. "I aint' the man I wa--.." The spear jerked closer, narrowly missing his head as he jerked back. "Brulk Wight-Eye, eh?" Another jab o' the spear, another miss. "Remember Quiet Gram, eh?" Brulk winced, he did remember. More'n likely alittle more detailed than he'd o' liked.
"Talhel.." Came the bowman's voice, stepping back a couple paces. Brulk felt that shiver, he knew what he'd done. Knew what was coming too, he reckoned. "Feared o' the Creoth, some say." came Talhel's growl, his shield was up and Brulk was forced to give ground. Khelem was whinnying something chronic, but that was least o' the one eyed mans worries. "More'n likely a mistake.." muttered Brulk, feeling something begin to boil inside him. "He was captive. We found him full o' holes!" Brulk felt himself wince again, opening his eye with a jerk as Talhel lunged forward with a powerful thrust of his spear. The blow was on form, but so was Brulk. He parried the blow with his forearm, the dagger lodged in his bracer scraping against the spearhead.
"Stop it." Brulk growled, his shoulders slumping down low and his legs spreading to a fighting stance. "I'm not the sa--.." Talhel half lunged forward, but instead o' his spear it was his shield that clattered into Brulk. Knocked the wind right out o' him, and sent him down to the ground. Talhel snorted, and cast a look back at his mate. "More like White-Eye, aint' so tough.." He trailed off, catching sight o' Brulk standing 'fore him. Some wicked kind o' grin spread across his ugly face. Talhel reckoned it looked like the face o' a crying man, only without any tears and somethin' fierce burning inside o' him. "Wha--.." uttered Talhel, but this time it was him unable to finish.
Wight-Eye torn at Talhel's shoulders, throwing him down to the ground like a sack o' potatoes. Taeven had his arrow notched into his bow, but some strange sort o' fear had him gripped. He'd heard tales o' Wight-Eye, some strange kind o' man from the Swamp o' Garth Agarwen. Fought a score o' Clucath's on behalf o' the Raid Maid, and a couple score more off his own back. Folk spoke o' a man, not tall but broad as one of 'em Hill-Beasts from the hills north o' Aughaire. His right eye missing, some said it was replaced with something o' the Maid's creation. Some kind o' precious stone, some kind o' enchantment cursed upon it. Taeven didn't know what to make o' that, but he knew one thing. This bastard, Wight-Eye or whoever, was smashing his friend something rotten. Some kind o' mad bastard, he reckoned. He level his bow on the Monster and drew back the string.
Wight-Eye laughed some strange sort o' laugh, the fool who sought his challenge held between his fists like some limp kind o' fish. The dead only knew how many times he'd thumped his foe into the dirt, and only they knew if he was due to join 'em. Wight-Eye saw nothing more'n the fates being played out as his smushed his face into the rocks once more. Something caught his eye, and he turned. Busy work for idle hands.. He smiled, that crying face o' his stretched something painful across his face but still the tears didn't stream. Some fool with a bow, Wight-Eye felt himself snarling, who seemed to have frozen. Fool said the voice in Brulk's head, though it sounded like it came from somewhere distant. To pause infront of me when knife-work needs doing.
He darted forward, this demon in human form, with some strange sort o' speed. Taeven let off his shot, the arrow lodged into the Monster's armoured chest and did nothing to slow him down. "Wait, No!" came his scream, but Wight-Eye wasn't listening. Some strange kind o' lust inside o' him, strange sort o' need to send men back to the dirt. Wight-Eye felt the scrawny neck o' his foe, each sinewy strand as his hands clamped around tight. Some strange kind o' voice echoed through his mind, some strange kind o' woman.
"This is Nyd. Nyd represents many things, most of them very difficult, heed it well. Fortunately, even where there is misery, difficulty and danger there are valuable lessons you will learn. The key is to learn them before you are overtaken by despair. Finally, the choice will be yours how it will end, this end is not determined by any other than you."
Taeven could feel the blood rushing through his body, struggling against the constricion on his neck. He felt himself going limp, his hands slapped against the Monster's hands instead o' pounding, the strength of 'em gone. He looked up into the beasts eye, that one eye glistening with some strange kind o' menace. Taeven felt a shudder o' fear, that one eye had something else inside o' it. Something more'n strange. One eye looked back at him, but it didn't belong to the monster crushing his neck. It was distance, almost in a daydreaming state. Taeven remembered daydreaming himself, curled up by the fire with his lass.
"I believe it is saying, if you continue as you are, it will never be easy and it is your choice if you continue or not, as simple as that."
