Post by Ferobbcious Beast on Apr 21, 2019 21:06:54 GMT
The rebuilding of Kollagskar was going smoothly. Most of the materials were fit to be reused, but what the Kollagskaren were missing was soon going to be brought over to the village by the handful that had left to go gather them.
Among them was Skovska, who was out looking for wood. Already having gathered up a decent pile of lumber, she whistled a traditional Colossian folk tune as she looked up to the trees around her. She preferred to fell the sick or dead trees over the healthy ones; if she could not find any, only then would she resort to toppling the other trees. The warrior of the axe had also found plenty of twigs and branches to serve as firewood. Some might even serve to produce fishing tools.
She raised her axe over her head and prepared to lower it, but she was quickly destabilized when her cub kicked her. He was awake again. The Colossian smirked and lowered her gaze, taking her hand off her axe’s handle to put against her stomach. Feeling the pressure of her paw, the baby nudged back at her. He had been quite active lately. He had far more energy than Skovska had this far into pregnancy, though she managed to work on the wood-chopping just fine. Soon, she and her beloved mate would get to hold their cub in their arms. It would be in a few days at most, but the wait felt downright endless for them.
Skovska stretched her shoulders and huffed, trying to focus despite the cub’s near-constant fluttering. She only needed to cut a few more logs, then she could go home. She raised Frykte above her head again and, with a firm, swift motion, chopped the log cleanly in two even halves.
But when she threw the logs into the pile of timber and turned back around, she noticed something that stopped her cold in her tracks. At the horizon, far on the western side of the gravelly beach that lined the shores around Kollagskar, was a dense, growing fog. The mass of mist was slowly approaching her home.
“Hmmm…” Skovska hummed in concern, frowning as she glared at the thick brume.
Skovska hauled the pile of timber up on her shoulder and prepared to go home when she noticed fog was now slowly starting to shroud the area of the forest she was standing in. The master of the axe frowned, tightening her grip on her weapon’s handle in preparation of defending herself and her unborn cub.
She knew what the appearance of the fog meant, but she also knew how to fight back.
---
When Sirmaq frowned and pointed behind her, Korraz slowly looked over her shoulder to see what he was indicating - the heavy, impenetrable fog steadily approaching the village.
The Hvaldir were coming.
Turning back almost immediately, the temporary chieftains of Kollagskar called for a lockdown - there was a short time to finish up whatever business they had outside of the village, but once the fog came, it was too dangerous to leave. Anyone wandering in the mist could easily become hopelessly lost. The Kollagskaren had to stick together to defend their home and avoid being lost.
“We still have a few outside the village. Nor, Usken, Sagani… they are probably far enough for the fog not to swallow them whole, but those on the shores…” Anuniaq said.
He and the blacksmiths watched the few fishermen and hunters that had gone out looking for supplies hurry back into the village.
“That is all of them… but where is Skovska?” Sirmaq pointed out as he craned his neck to see if he could find his daughter among the gatherers’ numbers.
Realizing in alarm that his mate was indeed still missing, the nearby Guardian Stronugg looked around frantically in search of her. Korraz, as well, grew concerned when she could not see her daughter anywhere.
“She must still be in the forest,” Stronuff concluded. He drew his spear off his back and into his hands. “I have to go find her!”
“No, Stronuff. You must stay here and help us guard the village,” Anuniaq replied before Sirmaq or Korraz could even share any of their own input. “Hod can look for her.”
The Stormcrow acknowledged the request and immediately took flight. He soared towards the forest, which was now being covered in ominous fog...
---
Skovska knew how not to be taken by surprise by the Hvaldir. They always came from the waters. She turned towards the nearby frozen lake, ears listening for any unusual sounds. She perceived the sound of breaking ice and splashing and instantly turned to that direction, but she could not see anything through the dense mist. Her sense of smell was completely muffled by the vapor.
Droplets of water falling on the snow next to her had been all the warning she had before a warbled roar rang through the mist, followed by a spear being thrown at her. By luck, the pointed weapon lodged itself into the pile of wood she was holding. Spinning on a heel to face that direction, Skovska gave a shove of her brawny shoulder, heaving all the logs down but one; the longest of them all. She swung it downwards, mighty arm and dense wood arcing through the mist.
A satisfying crack! and a muffled grunt was returned to her, letting her know that she had successfully hit whatever opponent was there. In the corner of her eye, she spotted another shape. The axe-wielder, still holding onto the piece of timber, spun a half-circle, swinging the tree sideways. Two impacts followed the movement, once more letting her know she had struck true.
As she now faced a different direction, she was able to see the lumbering creature that prepared to strike her. She had no idea how, but the Hvaldir were able to sneak up completely silently towards their victims.
However, while Skovska had one arm busy, she still had her trusty axe free. Driven by the power of a mighty limb and the remaining momentum of its owner's half-spin, Frykte bit deep into the flesh and bone of the Hvaldir. The force of the hit carried the Undead off the ground, causing him to fall back in the snow with a muffled thud. Frykte withdrew from his flesh with a wet rip and a spray of blood.
Before long, Skovska found herself surrounded. The Hvaldir she had previously damaged had not been slowed much, even the one that had been clobbered head-on by the tree; he still stood despite displaying a shattered skull. That was to be expected with Undead creatures - they were stubborn to put down.
Then again, so was Skovska.
Two of the Hvaldir warriors charged, but Skovska was ready. Grabbing one's face with her paw and shoving him to the side, she reached forward with her axe and hooked its head around the neck of the second fighter that was advancing towards her. Wrenching the unliving forward, Skovska sent him crashing into his downed ally. The two tumbled in a heap in the snow. That left the other two of the Hvaldir.
Stomping onto the hand of one of the downed warriors before he could pick his weapon back up as she stampeded forward, the blacksmith readied Frykte. She blocked a swing of a sword with the help of the axe's handle, pushing back both the weapon and the warrior with a firm shove. Stumbling back, the warrior was trapped by momentum and could not defend himself against Skovska as she raised up her axe and thrust the spiked handle into his right eye socket. Blood gushed out of the wound as the Hvaldir snarled, but it would take more to take him down for good.
The others were up again. While Skovska pulled her axe off the Hvaldir’s skull, the rest struck her from behind. Their weapons repeatedly clashed against her fur and muscle, tearing patches off her pelt and cutting her flesh with long, red scratches. Skovska snarled as she glanced over her shoulder, brusquely shoving one of the warriors down with a kick before reaching out with her arm to grab one of the harassing Hvaldir by the throat. Hoisting him off the ground without effort, she bashed him down against the log where the spear was. Its blunt end would normally not easily have pierced through his flesh, but Skovska’s brute strength forced it to do so. The Hvaldir was practically pinned down, impaled against the log.
Her attention was brought back to the others as a rusty blade slashed a deep, clean cut across her upper arm. Skovska winced and glanced at her arm to assess the damage done; a thick stream of blood left the wound and painted her pelt a deep crimson. She had likely been hit through an important blood vessel there. She had to end this battle quickly so that she may stop the blood loss.
Hooking the leg of the nearest Hvaldir with Frykte, she pulled it from underneath him. The Undead fell on his back heavily. Quickly, Skovska raised her axe high above her head and mustered all her might. The axe came down hard, the impact rattling the body of the sea-faring foe as his chest cavity was split open like an eggshell. His limbs shook convulsively before falling limp.
The last one was finished off almost as quickly. Skovska seized his wrist as he attempted to swipe her and tugged hard, tearing his arm clean off its socket with a sickening wet sound. A powerful clobbering blow to the head from his own arm being turned against him snapped the Hvaldir’s neck and flung him backwards.
As her last enemy fell inert, Skovska turned her attention to her bleeding arm. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the towel she normally used to clean Frykte off the blood of her enemies and plastered it against the wound. With just enough pressure and a bit of time, the bleeding would stop. There was nothing she could do but wait anyhow; the mist could take several hours, if not days, to dissipate.
Sitting down at the base of a tree as she continued to clutch her injured arm, Skovska set Frykte on her lap and waited, remaining on the lookout for any more of the Hvaldir...
Among them was Skovska, who was out looking for wood. Already having gathered up a decent pile of lumber, she whistled a traditional Colossian folk tune as she looked up to the trees around her. She preferred to fell the sick or dead trees over the healthy ones; if she could not find any, only then would she resort to toppling the other trees. The warrior of the axe had also found plenty of twigs and branches to serve as firewood. Some might even serve to produce fishing tools.
She raised her axe over her head and prepared to lower it, but she was quickly destabilized when her cub kicked her. He was awake again. The Colossian smirked and lowered her gaze, taking her hand off her axe’s handle to put against her stomach. Feeling the pressure of her paw, the baby nudged back at her. He had been quite active lately. He had far more energy than Skovska had this far into pregnancy, though she managed to work on the wood-chopping just fine. Soon, she and her beloved mate would get to hold their cub in their arms. It would be in a few days at most, but the wait felt downright endless for them.
Skovska stretched her shoulders and huffed, trying to focus despite the cub’s near-constant fluttering. She only needed to cut a few more logs, then she could go home. She raised Frykte above her head again and, with a firm, swift motion, chopped the log cleanly in two even halves.
But when she threw the logs into the pile of timber and turned back around, she noticed something that stopped her cold in her tracks. At the horizon, far on the western side of the gravelly beach that lined the shores around Kollagskar, was a dense, growing fog. The mass of mist was slowly approaching her home.
“Hmmm…” Skovska hummed in concern, frowning as she glared at the thick brume.
Skovska hauled the pile of timber up on her shoulder and prepared to go home when she noticed fog was now slowly starting to shroud the area of the forest she was standing in. The master of the axe frowned, tightening her grip on her weapon’s handle in preparation of defending herself and her unborn cub.
She knew what the appearance of the fog meant, but she also knew how to fight back.
---
When Sirmaq frowned and pointed behind her, Korraz slowly looked over her shoulder to see what he was indicating - the heavy, impenetrable fog steadily approaching the village.
The Hvaldir were coming.
Turning back almost immediately, the temporary chieftains of Kollagskar called for a lockdown - there was a short time to finish up whatever business they had outside of the village, but once the fog came, it was too dangerous to leave. Anyone wandering in the mist could easily become hopelessly lost. The Kollagskaren had to stick together to defend their home and avoid being lost.
“We still have a few outside the village. Nor, Usken, Sagani… they are probably far enough for the fog not to swallow them whole, but those on the shores…” Anuniaq said.
He and the blacksmiths watched the few fishermen and hunters that had gone out looking for supplies hurry back into the village.
“That is all of them… but where is Skovska?” Sirmaq pointed out as he craned his neck to see if he could find his daughter among the gatherers’ numbers.
Realizing in alarm that his mate was indeed still missing, the nearby Guardian Stronugg looked around frantically in search of her. Korraz, as well, grew concerned when she could not see her daughter anywhere.
“She must still be in the forest,” Stronuff concluded. He drew his spear off his back and into his hands. “I have to go find her!”
“No, Stronuff. You must stay here and help us guard the village,” Anuniaq replied before Sirmaq or Korraz could even share any of their own input. “Hod can look for her.”
The Stormcrow acknowledged the request and immediately took flight. He soared towards the forest, which was now being covered in ominous fog...
---
Skovska knew how not to be taken by surprise by the Hvaldir. They always came from the waters. She turned towards the nearby frozen lake, ears listening for any unusual sounds. She perceived the sound of breaking ice and splashing and instantly turned to that direction, but she could not see anything through the dense mist. Her sense of smell was completely muffled by the vapor.
Droplets of water falling on the snow next to her had been all the warning she had before a warbled roar rang through the mist, followed by a spear being thrown at her. By luck, the pointed weapon lodged itself into the pile of wood she was holding. Spinning on a heel to face that direction, Skovska gave a shove of her brawny shoulder, heaving all the logs down but one; the longest of them all. She swung it downwards, mighty arm and dense wood arcing through the mist.
A satisfying crack! and a muffled grunt was returned to her, letting her know that she had successfully hit whatever opponent was there. In the corner of her eye, she spotted another shape. The axe-wielder, still holding onto the piece of timber, spun a half-circle, swinging the tree sideways. Two impacts followed the movement, once more letting her know she had struck true.
As she now faced a different direction, she was able to see the lumbering creature that prepared to strike her. She had no idea how, but the Hvaldir were able to sneak up completely silently towards their victims.
However, while Skovska had one arm busy, she still had her trusty axe free. Driven by the power of a mighty limb and the remaining momentum of its owner's half-spin, Frykte bit deep into the flesh and bone of the Hvaldir. The force of the hit carried the Undead off the ground, causing him to fall back in the snow with a muffled thud. Frykte withdrew from his flesh with a wet rip and a spray of blood.
Before long, Skovska found herself surrounded. The Hvaldir she had previously damaged had not been slowed much, even the one that had been clobbered head-on by the tree; he still stood despite displaying a shattered skull. That was to be expected with Undead creatures - they were stubborn to put down.
Then again, so was Skovska.
Two of the Hvaldir warriors charged, but Skovska was ready. Grabbing one's face with her paw and shoving him to the side, she reached forward with her axe and hooked its head around the neck of the second fighter that was advancing towards her. Wrenching the unliving forward, Skovska sent him crashing into his downed ally. The two tumbled in a heap in the snow. That left the other two of the Hvaldir.
Stomping onto the hand of one of the downed warriors before he could pick his weapon back up as she stampeded forward, the blacksmith readied Frykte. She blocked a swing of a sword with the help of the axe's handle, pushing back both the weapon and the warrior with a firm shove. Stumbling back, the warrior was trapped by momentum and could not defend himself against Skovska as she raised up her axe and thrust the spiked handle into his right eye socket. Blood gushed out of the wound as the Hvaldir snarled, but it would take more to take him down for good.
The others were up again. While Skovska pulled her axe off the Hvaldir’s skull, the rest struck her from behind. Their weapons repeatedly clashed against her fur and muscle, tearing patches off her pelt and cutting her flesh with long, red scratches. Skovska snarled as she glanced over her shoulder, brusquely shoving one of the warriors down with a kick before reaching out with her arm to grab one of the harassing Hvaldir by the throat. Hoisting him off the ground without effort, she bashed him down against the log where the spear was. Its blunt end would normally not easily have pierced through his flesh, but Skovska’s brute strength forced it to do so. The Hvaldir was practically pinned down, impaled against the log.
Her attention was brought back to the others as a rusty blade slashed a deep, clean cut across her upper arm. Skovska winced and glanced at her arm to assess the damage done; a thick stream of blood left the wound and painted her pelt a deep crimson. She had likely been hit through an important blood vessel there. She had to end this battle quickly so that she may stop the blood loss.
Hooking the leg of the nearest Hvaldir with Frykte, she pulled it from underneath him. The Undead fell on his back heavily. Quickly, Skovska raised her axe high above her head and mustered all her might. The axe came down hard, the impact rattling the body of the sea-faring foe as his chest cavity was split open like an eggshell. His limbs shook convulsively before falling limp.
The last one was finished off almost as quickly. Skovska seized his wrist as he attempted to swipe her and tugged hard, tearing his arm clean off its socket with a sickening wet sound. A powerful clobbering blow to the head from his own arm being turned against him snapped the Hvaldir’s neck and flung him backwards.
As her last enemy fell inert, Skovska turned her attention to her bleeding arm. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the towel she normally used to clean Frykte off the blood of her enemies and plastered it against the wound. With just enough pressure and a bit of time, the bleeding would stop. There was nothing she could do but wait anyhow; the mist could take several hours, if not days, to dissipate.
Sitting down at the base of a tree as she continued to clutch her injured arm, Skovska set Frykte on her lap and waited, remaining on the lookout for any more of the Hvaldir...
