Eirik Claymont

[eirikclaymont]

One Last Battle

Ash hung heavy in the air, choking anyone who dared take a deep breath. The ground, once a field of dead or dying grasses was nothing more than churned dirt, littered with the bones and bodies of the fallen. The fallen Forsaken of course.

Outside of Brill, just to the south of the town the lines were forming. Thousands of Alliance soldiers, mixed with small bands of guilds, Houses and fighters from every walk of life. Alongside them rolled the siege towers, massive wood and metal constructs that would undoubtedly make quick work of the cities walls. The sight filled Eirik with pride.

He stood before his own motley crew of fighters. Mountain raiders and vikings one and all, he wore little more than leather chaps with a white fur cloak that tied around his neck. The skinned head of a wolf resting over his own.

His bare chest showed the healing wounds from the previous battles and scars from battles long ago. Within his hands he gripped the axes of his family; twin blades enchanted from a sorceress long forgotten. The air around the axe heads seemed to crack and pop, water freezing upon contact with the edges of the axes and a faint shimmer of frost dancing over the metal.

“Line up you fucks.” Eirik called out, looking over his Berserker’s as they slowly began to assemble. They were all in a motley of armor; leather and mail, with some holding shields. Their weapons varied from swords and axes, to long spears and bows. They were hardly an organized unit, but their ferocity made up for that.

“The boy king is with us. He will lead the charge against the gates so I want you all to look pretty.” A chorus of laughter greeted him, some from his own Shield Maiden who stood not three feet away.

To their east the faint glimmers of the morning sun began to shine over the distant mountains. The moisture in the air turning into dew upon the ground. It was almost time.

The sun continued to climb, their long shadows shrinking until at last a horn blew in the distance. Legions of Alliance soldiers began to march at once, followed after by the massive siege towers. With them came Eirik’s band of Berserkers. The warriors nearly frothing at the mouth as they walked at the slow pace of everyone else around them.

“Hurry this up.” One growled from the back with was immediately replied with, “Shut the fuck up.”

Eirik ignored it all. He walked at the lead, mirrored by Bryn. “This is it…” He whispered, anxiety beginning to build in his gut. He knew what was about to happen; the massive battle that would unfold beneath the walls. Yet the glory that awaited him was second to none. Lordaeron, the seat of their fallen kingdom. Standing outside it’s disheveled gates was almost too much to bear.

“CHARGE!”

The order came from somewhere down the line. Trumpets and drums flared up as the Legions of soldiers went from marching to running, keeping their perfect lines. Overhead flaming masses of stone and iron coursed through the air, finding their marks against the wall or beyond. The concussions from the blasts reverberating over the battlefield, yet they were soon drowned out by the guttural roaring of the Horde.

From the gates, hundreds of Horde warriors were rushing through, crashing into the Alliance lines with bestial vigor. Eirik watched as they charged towards the middle at first, the massive Tauren and brutish Orcs leading the tip of the spear.

“Shield Wall!” Eirik yelled as he came to a sliding stop. The Horde masses were running at him, yet as he stared them down his own fighters pushed passed, creating a wall of wood and steel. “Archers. Fire.” In places the shields were moved out of the way as arrows flew through the gaps. A troll fell clutching his throat next to a Forsaken that laid limply upon the ground, an arrow jutting from her eye socket.

The Horde then slammed into the wall and the fighters beside it. The sounds of metal upon metal rang out for as far as Eirik could hear. Spears were jammed through small openings, piercing the bellies of a few fighters before sliding back behind the wall glistening in red.

“Ready. Step!” As one the Berserker’s took a step forward, pushing the foe back with their shields.

“Step!” Eirik yelled again and again they moved forward, their shields leading the way as their steel lashed out delivering death.

“Ready…” Eirik yelled, he could hear the clanking of metal as axes and swords rained down upon the shields, yet even through the thunder of the Horde he could hear the systemic clattering of the shields locking together.

“Middle. Drop!” His command bellowed through the air, the middle of the line dropped back, feigning retreat, before allowing some of the Horde to rush in. The lines then slammed into the Horde from all sides, pinching them between shield and spear. Cries went up and some began to push back, retreating from the death that was brought to them. For some it worked, for many it didn’t.

Eirik cut through them with ease. Blood spattered his chest from countless unknown foes. A few cuts marred his body, leaking fresh blood but it did little to deter him. “Lock shields!” He yelled out and before him he could see his own closing their ranks to create the impenetrable wall.

Somewhere far down the line a massive groaning sound filled the air. The crunching of stone as well as cannon shots much unlike what Eirik was used to. Soon word began to filter that a new machine of death had entered the fray. Rumor picked up that it had decimated the middle of the line, pushing back towards Brill and the Alliance leaders were doing all they could to stop it. All they could wasn’t enough.

“Bryn!” Eirik’s eyes scanned his own until he found the familiar form of his Shield Maiden. “Take our best and go help out the center!” He pointed towards the billowing smoke that came from somewhere beyond several siege towers.

“Aye m’lord.” Bryn smiled her feral smile before rallying his elite. Eirik watched as her and twenty of his best left, leaving their line a little thinner but nothing unmanageable.

Trumpets flared to their west and all heads seemed to drift in that direction. A quiet murmur filling the air beyond the clattering of weapons and the dying wounded. Yet even as the sounds of battle raged on Eirik could hear the thunder of hooves. Cresting over a small hill a line of knights, clad in steel and decorated in a sigil he didn’t recognize, came to a stop, waiting and ready.

Another blast from the trumpet and soon they started moving. They swooped in, coming towards the line of Alliance before leveling off. In front of his own people, the Horde began to backpedal. Faced with Alliance before them and knights on their flank, most saw their hopes dashed and for many their lives were.

Long steel lances dropped down, skewering several of their enemies before finally breaking. The horses trampled over any who remained in their way and with the snap of a finger the battle had turned. Orcs, Trolls and the other races were fleeing back to the city. The smoke that filtered through the air to their east seemed to grow in what Eirik hoped was good news.

“Don’t let them breathe! Chase them and cut them down!” He yelled and as the knights cleared out of their way, his own moved forward. The shield wall was broken and each were engaging the Horde on their terms.

All across the line it was clear that the Alliance was advancing upon the city. The Horde was in clear retreat and the smoke, an oily smudge upon the sky, seemed to signal the defeat of whatever plagued the Alliance for a short period of time.

As Eirik and his band moved forward, sprinting at full speed towards the cities gates, strange flashes of green arced overhead. Eirik felt as if time slowed down. His body carried him forward, yet as he continued to run his eyes were drawn behind him. The arcs of green were landing behind him and his people, behind many of the Alliance soldiers. From them came plumes of a noxious green gas.

To his horror he watched as those trapped within the fumes drop to the ground, their hands clutching their throats as they died.

“Blight!” Someone cried from around him and soon the cry went up. Those caught between the outer ring of the blight and the city walls soon found themselves torn. Many charged the walls, looking to escape the noxious fumes by means of the city. Others sought to run through them.

Eirik watched both sides as indecision gripped him. Some of his own had made their own decisions, a few running towards the walls, yet he watched as one ran towards the clouds of green fumes. He saw as the young man sprinted into the cloud, his hands over his mouth. Yet he never made it through. Somewhere near the halfway point he had fallen to his knees, his hands clawing at his throat before all life seeped out of him.

“Not like this!” Eirik yelled, anger building up in him as he watched helplessly. “Charge the gates! We will…” He began to issue an order, yet as he spoke he watched as Forsaken began to pour out of the main gates. From their hands they issued death in the form of the blight. Waves of the green liquid shot out, splashing across the Alliance frontline and the retreating Horde before filling the air with its poisonous fumes.

“Retreat!” Eirik yelled, as he watched countless soldiers drop to the ground in the wake of this new enemy. “Hold your breath! Push through the clouds of blight!” He turned and ran, pushing through those frozen with fear before delving into the first clouds of the blight. He closed his eyes, held his breath and did his best just to keep running. Yet even so, he could feel the blight burning against his skin, the poison seeping into his wounds and constricting the muscles of his chest.

The ground had become littered with bodies and as Eirik ran he felt his foot slip in something hot and sticky. He landed hard, his face meeting the plate of a dead soldier. “Fuck!” He growled as he felt blood trickling down his face. “Fuck!” He yelled once more, feeling a fire brewing in his chest as the blight began to spread throughout him. “Not like this… Not fucking like this.” He began to crawl, trying several times to climb back to his feet yet with each time failing.

“No…” He began to cough, his throat and lungs feeling raw as bloody phlegm came out. With one hand forward, then another he collapsed, watching as waves of undead began to rise around him by the order of their new queen.

“Eirik!”

~~~~~~~

“Eirik!” Bryn screamed. It wasn’t that of an order or her trying to get his attention; instead it was one full of pain. “Eirik!” She screamed again rushing forward. She batted away the hands that reached out for her, her own people trying to stop her, and forced her way into the clouds of green.

“Eirik!” She cried out once more, fighting back a sob that was building within her. The fumes burned at her chest and made it hard for her to breath yet she fought on, pushing herself through the haze and the lightheadedness that soon seemed to overtake her mind. “Eirik.” She cried out, her voice a harsh whisper as the blight tore at her.

She waded over the dead bodies, lashing out with her spear at the dead who didn’t stay dead. She cared little for her own safety as she stared down her lord that laid upon the blood soaked dirt. “Eirik.” She called out once again, jammed her spear into the chest of a risen human, pushing him back before falling into the dirt herself.

She crawled through the dirt and reached out just until her fingers slid through the matted fur of Eirik’s wolf cloak. She closed her grip upon the snout of the beast and soon felt herself rising into the sky. Her eyes were heavy lidded, fighting to stay open even as the burning within her intensified.

“Not you. Not today.” A voice seemed to come from nowhere and as darkness clouded her mind she felt herself begin to drift through the air. The Halls of Valor awaited.

@bryynhild @odessii-dragonblade

[musings-ofa-madman]

A Change of Tides.

The fog was heavy; limiting his visibility to near nothing, yet it would serve. Theo pushed himself away from the massive stone outcropping he rested against and straightened his tabard. The sigil of the Horde, black upon a red field. It wasn’t the most flattering colors he had ever worn yet it looked good enough on him, or so he thought.

Stepping away from the stone, he began his trek down a cobbled road built by a dead empire. The minutes ticked by before the faint flicker of a torch loomed ahead. The sight of it filled him with a sense of excitement that he hadn’t known in a long time. His pace quickened.

“Halt!” The words seemed to come from nowhere, yet in the faint gloom of the fog he saw a silhouette appear against the torchlight. “What business do you have here?” A Forsaken stepped forward, one hand upon a sword at his hip; the other upon the scabbard.

“Fuck off.” Theo called back, stepping into the light of the torch with little room between the two. He stared the Forsaken down, hoping just for the moment that he would pull the sword yet after several seconds passed the Forsaken dropped his hands.

Keep reading

[eirikclaymont]

Character Referenced in the story.

[eirikclaymont]

IC Name Change

I am changing the name of Eirik’s shieldmaiden from Agertha to Brynhild. She will be the same character with the same story. You can find her in game with the name Bryynhild.

Cheers!

@bryynhild

Etain (FC)

Lagertha & Octavia (For more GIFs)

[scassira-chronicles]

A missive is carried through the fog...

An extraordinarily large raven would be seen circling around the Claymont castle, his beady eyes watching carefully, waiting to find the Lord himself. The missive would not be delivered to anyone save for his hands. But soon enough, the raven would spot it’s target, swooping down low and settling with a few heavy beats of his wings along the stone wall that likely was along one of the castle terraces. It would remain there, watching Eirik with a careful stare, a missive wrapped around its ankle. If the Lord was to take it, he’d see in a most elegant scrawl a simple message.

Claymont,

Instead of coming to you in the shadows and unannounced as I have done twice now, I am requesting an audience with you so we may discuss some things that have come to light in my own situation which I am well aware you may have noticed while we were in Gilneas.

Please, consider this a request for a favor.

If you’d indulge me, please name a time and place. I do hope you will not mind a plus one.

I.R.

@eirikclaymont

[eirikclaymont]

Ravens. They were common around Stone Hearth, so much so that they had been adopted as the sigil for his House.The sight of the raven, albeit larger than those commonly found, raised little suspicions and no concern.

Yet as Eirik stepped outside of the grand oak doors the raven caught his attention as it flew from its perch. Holding his arm out he allowed the raven to perch upon it, its claws digging into the thick wool dublet.

"What is this?" He asked, looking the bird over before pulling free the letter.

Breaking the seal, he unrolled it deftly with one hand and scanned the words.

'Isolde.' His brow quirked yet he said nothing. Instead he walked back into his keep, the raven remaining fixed to his arm until he reached the rookery.

Isolde,

Dun Garok, Hillsbrad.

Eirik

The note was short as he didn't need to say much. A bit of wax dripped upon the letter before he pressed his seal to it.

"Come." He said as he climbed the steps towards the large raven. He fixed the letter to the massive bird before lifting it up and taking it to the window.

"Fly." He told the bird as it jumped from his arm. Turning away from the window he left the rookery heading to the armory. He would need to ready himself for the trek.

@pale-revenant

[scassira-chronicles]

Whatever horrors you faced on Argus are done. Now it’s our turn to be the nightmare.

Eirik Claymont to Isolde Rev'more

@eirikclaymont

[eirikclaymont]

Inspirational!

[eirikclaymont]

Through the Mists

The seas were quiet, the waves gently lapping against the hull of his ship. Eirik stood upon the prow, one hand back as he held the single mast. He couldn’t see much. No matter how far he leaned forward nor the intensity of his stare. The fog was complete. Yet it was welcome.

“I can’t see shit.” 

A voice cut through the quiet. It was only a whisper but upon the silent water it felt like a scream. Yet it held truth. They couldn’t see anything, anything but the giant Fel green rock that floated above them. The burning glow seemed to cut through everything.

“Shut up.” Eirik growled, doing his best to keep his voice low. It would be ill luck for it to carry. “Release the ravens.” He whispered to the man behind him. He could hear the shuffling as Bjornyn shuffled to the stern before the flutter of wings told him the ravens were free. 

Now we wait.

The waiting wasn’t half near as long as Eirik had expected, nor what he wanted. He had known they were close to land yet when the ravens returned he could scarcely believe it himself, nor anyone else as they all stared at the black winged bird.

“Up and at it.” Eirik spoke. His voice was low still, yet not as reserved as it had been a moment before, All over the ship, and the ones trailing behind, men and women were pulling their shields from the edges of the ship, readying their weapons in their hands.

“Drums.” Eirik called out once the coast line began to loom through the fog.

A steady rhythm began, the deep thrums of the drum echoed through the air and was soon joined by the other ships. Soon a chorus began, the drumming steadily growing faster until it was all that could be heard.

Beneath his feet Eirik the rocky shore rose to meet the ship but Eirik didn’t wait. He let go of the mast and jumped over the side. The cool water, waist deep, shocked his senses, yet it felt like nothing as he watched Agertha reach the shore before him with her spear brought back like a javelin. He watched for the briefest of moments as she brought it back and then threw it with enough force to launch back the Forsaken it impaled.

“Damn woman.” He growled with admiration. “Do the dead shit when they die again?” He yelled, fording his way forward with axes in hand. A brave, yet stupid Forsaken soldier rushed down to meet him. The undead holding his shield out, hoping to keep him from leaving the water; yet little good it did as Eirik’s twin axes rained blows down. He tore the shield asunder before lodging the cold enchanted axe deep within the Forsaken’s skull.

A wordless battle cry escaped him and the two hundred others as they tore their way through the small pass between the bluffs.

The battle was short but fierce; the Forsaken camp rallying out of their slumber to form a ragged shield wall that crumbled within minutes of the first Berserker reaching it. The wall fell apart and the battle turned into small skirmishes spread throughout the camp. 

The blare of a distant horn spelled the doom for the Forsaken as another fifty Berserker’s fought their way into the camp from the hills of Gilneas. They were the scouting party, sent well in advance to cut off any outrunners and scouts.

With their numbers added to Eirik’s the surviving Forsaken surrendered yet their lives were forfeit. The axe came for each and every one of them until the camp was cleared out and the metal containers of plague burned where they sat.

It was a good morning and no doubt the start of a good day.

[scassira-chronicles]

Shadows in the Hills- Continued.

((Continued from HERE!))

The woman listened absently, eyes focused on his own as she reached for the tankard of water, drinking deeply of its cool contents. “That is quite the tale indeed. I am always intrigued by those who are able to build from the ground up, watching as generations upon generations continue the legacy of a name. It is quite remarkable.”

Her tone held a slight bit of something within it- perhaps remorse? The melancholy feel of it would be enough to indicate her words embarked on another journey deep into her own lineage. But moving on quickly, she would lift her gaze once more, nodding as an idle hand waved a bit in the air. “Ah yes, my shadow friends. You can likely call off your beserkers. The retinue in the hills have already departed for home. As a matter of fact…”

The woman paused, snapping her fingers a moment and crooking a finger. The two shadows behind her came forward and one leaned down near her face as she began to talk quite low, nodding firmly and gesturing every so often toward their surroundings. It would be a quick encounter and soon, they would both stand and nod to Eirik. “Lord Claymont.” They both dipped, bowing their heads, then completely disappeared.

“They will be no trouble, not that they would have been to begin with. But truly, this is not concerning them or their purpose so I have dismissed them.” Silver hues slipped to where the door was to the room, knowing the pair had went out that way. “I’d slaughter them if they caused trouble when not provoked.” A brow lofted and she absently looked back to Eirik, lips twitching a fraction into a semblance of a smirk.

“Ah but yes, the meeting. Truly? I had not much of an agenda. I simply wanted to get to know the Lord of this magnificent castle and its surrounding peaks.” Isolde lofted both hands and arms, indicating his home before she leaned forward and reached for a turkey leg as a wicked smirk began to form along her lips. She then took the leg of choice, plopping it on her plate as he did the same. Once he bit first into his own, eying him carefully, she would begin devouring hers, likely both being silent for a moment.

Leaning back, Isolde wrapped her digits into a nearby cloth to rid the grease and salt from her pale fingers before once more peering at the man. “But.. I suppose if I need a true reason for this meeting…” she spoke softly. “As you likely have guessed, I am an informant. But I do not solely work for anyone save for myself and one other. I am personally looking to expand my own influence, which as you may have guessed, seems quite… inadequate. But let me tell you something,” she began, leaning over the table a fraction as her voice dropped and her silver hues all but penetrated his soul.  “If you have not heard of me, or know who I am… then let us just say I am doing my job correctly.” @eirikclaymont

[eirikclaymont]

"My family is old and proud, but small" He gave a nod to her. Everyone had a family, noble or not and each one had their own story. He sensed the change in her voice, the subtle inflection within her tone yet he didn't know her well enough to pin it down and so he did not press.

His eyes flickered to the two guards of hers watching as they faded out of sight. He watched her eyes and followed them to the door before returning to her. "It would be a bitch to fight you." He acknowledged with a boisterous laugh before raising his own hand. The retinue of guards dispersing, all save Agertha, the white-blonde haired giants daughter.

Silence reigned as they enjoyed the small feast. Mugs emptied and refilled before servants came to take the plates away.

He stared at her much she same as she did him, although he didn't have the strength in his eyes. They weren't nearly as piercing but potentially more thoughtful.

"I have not heard of you, which has suited me well until now. Yet you say you work for one other person. That troubles me as I don't know who that is. A small lord as myself I have many enemies and a few friends. Many look upon my lands and hunger and so far I still sit here. But." He leaned back, fingers tugging at his beard, "I see merit in your words. It could be beneficial for myself as well to bring others in and seeing as you are here..."

He took a swallow of ale and sighed contently. "You see what I have to offer. Soldiers, Berserkers, lands and riches. Stone beautiful to behold and sought after throughout the Kingdoms. Yet what do you bring other than your shadow guards and the magic you seem possess?"

[scassira-chronicles]

Shadows in the Hills

((Continued from HERE!))

The outburst from Claymont actually made the woman laugh, a pearly white grin shining from beneath pale lips, which would all but transform that lethal visage into something, more soft and enchanting. Even the two figures who’d arrived with her were smiling as they looked at one another. But soon they would follow suit, keeping up with their Mistress while she strode beside the Lord and into his home.

Silver hues took in every shadow and crevice the keep allowed. It was massive and formidable and the woman found herself rather impressed by its architecture and décor. But it was the hulking woman that really caught her attention, both brows actually lofting upward as she viewed the barbarian like female over. Isolde had never seen such a massive woman and credited her girth to giant’s blood running through her veins. Had to be. 

Upon reaching the large hall, Isolde shook her self some, grunting with the comfort of the warmth from the hearths. “You’ve yourself a magnificent home, Lord Claymont.” Sincerity was in her tone along with genuine interest crossing over her features. She’d find the seat he indicated and plop herself right on down, her two guards shifting behind her and staying along the back wall near his own likely.

Hearing the call for ale and water, Isolde perked a brow in his direction, lips twitching into a bit of a smile as she inclined her head. “Thank you for indulging me. Sadly, I do not drink alcohol anymore. I used to once upon a time, and while I understand you may see that as insult, I beg you forgive me on that.” She offered these words whether he cared or not, perhaps attempting to be courteous now that they were both within the warmth of the large room with all eyes upon them and within hearing distance.

“Now then,” she nodded as she leaned back in her chair, offering a genuine smile and incline of her head. With her tone, her expressions, and overall demeanor, it would seem almost as if the woman was born and raised a noble. “Let us talk, shall we?” @eirikclaymont

[eirikclaymont]

Eirik rested easily within the large wooden chair as he looked her over lazily. He wasn’t concerned whether or not she was an enemy anymore. Soon they would break bread together and the gods damned those who betrayed the peace in someones home.

“Many generations of Claymont’s have had this home. Jarrod was the first, laying down the foundation of what would become a noble house. Yet to think all he did was build a single room home upon this very mountain. Little did he know the quarries beneath us would yield him riches.”

He leaned forward, ignoring her bit about the insults for it was water under the bridge, or air rather given where they were. “You came to me, you and your shadow fiends.” He cast a glance to the two men as they lingered near the back wall. “So now I believe it is you who should start this meeting.”

Just as he finished speaking a servant came forth from a hidden hallway, the shadows that were flickering around the room doing well to hide the darker areas. In hand was two steins, one frothing with an amber ale, the other water from a spring deep within the mountain. The turkey would come next, on a platter with a medley of vegetables and fruits.

For the customs of other lords, it may have been kind for Eirik to wait and allow the woman the first bite, yet customs of those lordlings be damned. That wasn’t the Claymont way. Instead he helped himself to what he wished.

[eirikclaymont]

Agertha the Bear Lady. Shield-maiden to Eirik Claymont.

‘A scar ran from her ear, over her lips and down her neck. It was pink as a new babe but clean, a single line of mottled flesh. It was said that she received the mark as a blessing from the Keeper Odyn as she battled Fenrir for dominion and a claim at adulthood. The truth was no less impressive.

During her trials she showed no fear and a mastery of arms. Her survival skills were incomparable. While challenging the Crucible, a full moons turn in the wilderness during the bitter months of January, she found herself in a cave. It was the lair of Ursus Maritimus, the fabled white bear.

Hiding away from the biting cold, the young Agertha was foolish, or smart, enough to create a fire. Dry kindling was plenty in the cave and with flint and steel a blaze soon greeted her, the warmth filling her and the light allowing her to see what she wasn’t able to moments before.

The light invaded Maritimus’ dreams, waking the slumbering beast.

The stories recount that Maritimus was none to pleased at the invader and let loose a blood curdling roar, yet Agertha was not afraid. She held her ground, wooden shield fixed to her arm and a spear in hand.

When Maritimus stepped out from the shadows deeper within the cave he stood near as tall as her, taller still when he rose upon his hind legs, more than double the height of the young warrior. Yet she did not fear.

The battle was short but fierce. Maritimus was the king of bears, the largest and strongest of his breed. He barreled his way towards Agertha, fangs neared and claws ready. Yet she held her ground.

A single swing from his massive paw destroyed her shield, turning it into kindling. Agertha struck out with her spear, but it was nothing more than a gnat bite against his thick hide.

Enraged, Maritimus rose upon his high legs and swung at her, snapping the spear in half and leaving his mark across her face. The wound was deep but clean, a single cut without break and as it began to seep crimson tears, she did not cry out.

She grabbed the broken spear, the shaft with the barbed steel at the end, and grappled the king.

A flurry of fur and blood filled the air yet Agertha was victorious as the barb steel drove deep into Maritimus’ eye, his only weakness. The king slumped forward, one last growl escaped his muzzle before the light fell from his eyes.

Several months past beyond the extent of the Crucible. A feast had been held in honor of those who did not survive, the parents of the fallen, including Agertha’s, caught between grief and joy for their children drank with Odyn.

Yet as the snows began to melt and spring found its way, the young warrior left her cave, traveling from the mountains cloaked in the fur of her foe. She entered the village a woman, a warrior and a shield-maiden.'

@lyanna-forrester @odessii-dragonblade

[scassira-chronicles]

Shadows in the Hills

((RP continued from HERE!))

She offered the same courtesy of a neutral guise, nor when he spat his venom over the side of the bridge. He intrigued her the more he spoke, head tilting to the side only a fraction. She could feel his soul shudder in irritation, the idea of it actually causing her lips to twitch a mere fraction in amusement.

But that whistle- oh that whistle. She knew well he’d called someone or something to begin some sort of movement. That was all fine and well, for as the beserkers began scouring the hillside, her shadows just moved silently away from them. They were trained, lethal. But they had orders from the ‘witch’ to not attack or engage – thus the hillside remained quiet. 

“You are noticed indeed, for I would not be here otherwise,” she spoke lowly, that seductive call of her voice ringing around him. Silver hues settled on the hulking male’s form before finally, she reached up and coiled her gloved digits around her hood and tugged it down.

Beneath the shadows of the hood was a woman of pure elegance and grace with skin as pale as a snow lily and hair as dark as the richest soil- but it would be her eyes that shown the lethality she held; an intoxicating combination to any poor soul. She’d never once looked away from his own eyes. “Seems you’ve your own forces upon the hills, I like that. Shows your initiative.” she nodded slow, arms settling along her sides easily before she moved her own body to the sides of the bridge. The woman had known the moment her shadows moved, and the only way they’d have moved is if something was nearing. Fingers curled along the bridge’s edge as she peered over a moment until eventually she turned her whole body toward him, a mere two or so feet apart.

“As for being correct, well. If I were here for anything other than forming some sort of potential alliance, you’d likely already have fresh blood coating your walls. Fortunately,” she paused, brow lofting in his direction. “That is not why I am here. I aim to make contacts throughout the Eastern Kingdoms. You happen to be one I am interested in for the simple sake of..” she spread her arms out gesturing toward the vast mountains and castle, “…your location, and two, your cultural influence.” @eirikclaymont

[musings-ofa-madman]

“A shame. I try to live quietly up in my mountains.” His eyes panned over her before dipping over the ridges. He was waiting, ever so patiently for a cry to fill the air. For someone to be found or a skirmish and a clashing of swords to ring through the mountains. Yet there was nothing.

His eyes flicked back to her, his mouth opening as to speak until he saw her hood was down and her face was in full view. “Drow.” The word escaped his mouth before he had the mind to close it. His thoughts drifted to Sylvanus and her ilk, the dark rangers; his grip tightened upon the shaft of his axe.

His will was stronger than that of the average man and her temptations died before they could begin. “And yours are well trained.” He replied in kind to her. “How do they respond to hounds?” His brow rose even as his eyes never left hers.

It was a vague threat he spoke but one he wasn’t going to act on. No gestures or calls were made and he remained relatively silent save for the quiet conversation they shared. “What if you contact my enemies? The friend of my enemies is my enemy; so how do I know if I can trust you or not? You come here, hiding in the mountains with your own army, no matter their size. You give vague threats, asking for things and saying I need something from you.” He gave a mirthless laugh as he shook his head. 

“If you are so fascinated with my culture then you should know we only make deals over a fine horn of ale. Anything less wouldn’t do.”

[scassira-chronicles]

“Drow?” She actually laughed, revealing a rare, radiant smile that was just as entrancing as her ethereal visage. The laughter she emitted was short lived, but light and genuine. “I have been called many things, Claymont, but that is certainly not one of them.”

She shook her head, a hand lifting to idly wave toward his own that coiled about the shaft of his axe. “Hounds are of no concern- but I do not see you acting on that quite yet for I see that intrigue in your gaze. You are curious- just as I am.”

She turned to face the mountains once more, silver hues settling along the shadowed crevices as she then quirked her lips slightly, letting loose one single yet sharp whistle. With a blur of motion and a heavy gust of wind, her hidden army would disperse, retreating to the far reaches of the cliffs and becoming less of a threat from their Overseer’s command.

“Who knows if you can truly trust me? I wouldn’t trust me. But that is a leap of faith you must choose to indulge or disregard.” She turned only her head, offering a side glance toward him as she flicked her silver irises along his face. “I do not drink ale, but a fine horn of water and lemon will do just fine, hm?”

Turning her body toward him now, she’d tug off her right glove and offer him the pale hand that held a single ring along her middle finger. It was a silver band accompanied by a chocolate diamond at its center. She was offering him to shake the appendage. “You may call me Isolde.”

[musings-ofa-madman]

“Drow’s have white hair.” Eirik said factually, offering her a shrug of his shoulders as he looked over the edge of the bridge. He was always fascinated with heights, somewhat of a mandatory feeling to be living up in the mountains. “Just add it to your list I guess.” He spoke without looking to her, his eyes dancing over his surroundings.

He listened to her, keeping his mouth shut. Her claim at curiosity was only half true. True enough to say he wanted to know who she was and what she wanted but not so much as to say he wouldn’t be fine to kick her off from his mountain.

As she mentioned the lack of ale he suddenly turned to her, his eyes meeting her own. “You will drink a water and lemon? What do you take me for a child? We don’t have that shit here. I can give you ale and a turkey leg, not much more.” In truth he had what she wanted, since who didn’t have access to water, but he would be damned to go out of his way to please someone he didn’t know.

As her hand was pulled free from the glove he gave it a cursory glance, looking it over before taking a step towards her. He reached out his left hand, bypassing the one she extended and grabbing hold of her gloved appendage. He gave it a brief shake before taking a step back.

“I don’t trust you and your magic.” He growled, eyeing the bare hand and the ring. “But if you want to talk we shall talk inside. I grow tired of standing out here.”

[scassira-chronicles]

A slow and easy smirk plastered along the woman’s face as she watched the trepidation and unease flutter across his face. She would  grasp his hand, however, the gloved appendage shaking his other hand before finally releasing and replacing her gloved to conceal her digits. She wasn’t about to curse the man- hell, she couldn’t even do that. And the ring was that- a simple piece of jewelry with only sentiment. Though she did find amusement in the situation.

“A child?” she asked with laughter in her tone. “Hardly. But a turkey leg sounds quite lovely- I will pass on the ale.” She nodded, waving toward his keep. However, before they moved, two more hooded figures appeared along the bridge, dressed similarly to the woman and armored all the same. In synchronization, they dropped their hoods two reveal two men that were oddly… normal looking.

“They will accompany me out of simple courtesy, nothing more. You can even have them disarmed should you wish.” The men came closer, inclining their heads to the Claymont lord, though their eyes settled on the woman. “Come then, I, too, grow tired of the remaining out here. Let us talk.”

[eirikclaymont]

Eirik saw the humor in her eyes as he took her hand and it only caused his suspicions to deepen. He didn't know who or what she was but he could sense a power about her that was much alike his own physical prowess. It was different and from someone unknown it was dangerous.

"Then let us get a bite to eat." He started to say just as the two figures solidified at the end of the bridge. "Thrall's fucking balls." He groaned, eyeing the two with more annoyance than anything. "Whose courtesy because you sure as shit ain't being courteous and I don't care enough to show the same."

His grumbles were nothing more than that. The thoughts running free in his mind finding their way to his tongue.

He wasn't one to mince his thoughts.

"Well let's get this over with." He turned and began to walk back, the axe that was in his hand returned to the hook upon his back. The edge of the blade glowed a faint bluish color, almost lost in the mist.

They walked through the gate and under the gatehouse, stepping into the courtyard of his home. The decor was plain, grey stone walls surrounded them with grey stones underfoot and a grey sky over head. Yet there was color to behold.

Patches of green were off to the sides, following the walls as the grass grew natural although it was well manicured. Two massive trees sat to either side of the gate, in the middle of the courtyard. Bright pink flowers spotted against the green of the leaves.

Walking through the courtyard they approached two massive oak doors, iron studded and engraved to depict Odyn fighting Helya; the heavens versus hell.

Pushing open the doors they entered a grand hall. Walls with green marble, veined with white and black greeted their eyes. Massive columns, color matching the walls, rose towards the high ceilings. The floors were much the same as the rest.

Eirik led them through the grand hall, braziers lining the columns and hallways leading off from the sides deeper into the estate. There was a cold elegance to simple decor, or lack there of.

Guards watched them every step of the way. Men and women in matching green Tabards wielding sword and axe. Behind them came Agertha. A bear of a woman with broad shoulders and muscled arms. A spear was in her hand, shield wrapped to her forearm and an axe hung from her back. The way she watched the group spelled clearly that she was his Guard Captain. His personal shield maiden.

At the end of the long hall a single stone chair sat with two wooden ones behind it. Eirik led them passed the chairs and through a short hallway until they reached a room even bigger than the hall. Fireplaces lined the walls, all blazing their fiery glow through the green room. In the middle there was a single pit, a bonfire burning brightly in the middle with chairs of oak surrounding it.

"Sit." Eirik pointed to the chairs as he took his own. All of the chairs were exactly the same in make and color. So as no one who sat would be higher or lower than the next.

"Ale and turkey." Eirik called out. "And water for the lass." He added giving her a slight nod. It may have been the acknowledgement to her all night that wasn't overtly hostile or indifferent.

Soon servants brought the food and drink forth for both to share.

[eirikclaymont]

Stone Hearth and her lands.

[scassira-chronicles]

The woman had found herself in the lands of the north, her body shielded by leather garb of earthy hues as the winds whipped about her form. She was standing on a peak, silver hues hidden behind a hood as she looked down toward the castle obscured by the rolling fogs. It could have been an eerie sight, but it reminded her of her new home, though this place held a certain atmosphere she seemed drawn too.

Her cloaked billowed behind her, the woman’s form along the foggy peak perhaps an omen to anyone who saw. Or maybe she was seen as something of a goddess instead. What about a ghost? If anyone saw her staring down to their lands, many thoughts likely rolled through their minds. Who is she? Why is she there?

She was still, utterly content just letting her senses take in all she was witnessing. Perhaps it merely calmed her. But she remained. @eirikclaymont

[musings-ofa-madman]

“My Lord.”

The words pulled Eirik from his stupor, his eyes shifting from the fire pit to the mail clad guard. He took a moment as he examined the man, older and in his forties with a beard jutting from his half helm, a shock of grey through the brown mass.

“Yes?” He asked dully, already forgotten what had preoccupied his mind moments before.

“There has been a sighting, someone or something up in the mountains.”

Eirk could tell that no matter what he said the matter would be pressed. He knew the superstitious lot his people were and sometimes there was no convincing them otherwise. “Agertha.” Eirik called out, his shield maiden appearing a moment later. “Let’s go for a walk.” He smiled to her, pushing himself out of the maple chair as he headed deeper into his home.

Mail the color of forest greens was thrown over his head,  the hauberk protecting his vitals. A tabard depicting the twin ravens of his house worn over it as he fixed his twin axes to his back. There were no precautions that shouldn’t be taken. The mountain clans often gave him no trouble, as he was one of them, yet raiding parties were common as the summer days grew shorter.

Leaving the great stone manor, he stepped outside into the fog, taking a deep breath of the mountain air. He walked the length of the bridge, climbing the outer wall as he looked towards the mountains. Several guards had clustered together, spears in their hands as they talked quietly between themselves. It was clear they were fixated upon a single target, the mysterious figure in the mountains.

“Watch the hills. Last we need are the clans descending while you are all gawking.” He barked at them which was reiterated by his shield maiden, her own spear swatting them along.

“So what do you think?” He asked once Agertha returned to his side.

“Someone looks to be a long way from home.”

@pale-revenant

[scassira-chronicles]

Someone was indeed a long way from home. As the woman stood along the hill crest, the cloak and leather garb she wore whipped around wildly in the mountain air. She was still for quite some time, as if a statue carved atop the stone peak, chiseled out to be a stark reminder that the hills truly did have eyes. Shadows flickered along the darkened crevices of the mountain, her gaze settling on whom she deemed the Lord of the castle below.

“You are only observing. Do not engage,” she spoke to her fifty guards through a shared communication. The men and women concealed within the shades of outcroppings of the mount itched for a battle, but they would be disappointed this day, for she was not there to wage war. No, she was there to simply observe and… perhaps speak with the man below. The twin ravens along their fronts was clue enough as to exactly who was below, rumors of the Northern Council running through her mind.

A curious woman indeed, one who was not only dangerous, but quite the information gatherer as well – specifically when hired as such.

Eventually, her form shimmered as the gathered below would witness their superstitions come to life. The clouds and fog around her seemed to all but swallow the feminine form in its maw, causing her to become translucent for a mere instant. But only a few moments later would the same figure reappear at the far end of the bridge from where they stood, solidifying as her body once more moved into their visual plane.

With a hood pulled up over her head to conceal true features, she simply stood there, unmoving. They would have been foolish to believe she was unarmed, but the way she held her self, arms to the sides of her form, gloved palms upward a fraction in a sign of a nonthreatening manner – only the ghostly pale skin of her chin and nose, and the darkened outline of her lips were visible.

@eirikclaymont and @eveshadows for very vague mentions.

[eirikclaymont]

Eirik stared at the figure, the mists and clouds surrounding her as she stood upon a nearby peak. His eyes then moved to the crags and crevices that surrounded her before he turned around and looked over the distant walls. A foul feeling washed over him, that he was missing something that should have been fairly obvious.

“Stay alert.” He called out, his voice ringing throughout the keep.Turning to Agertha he fixed her with a look. “Arm the Beserkers but no bog myrtle. I don’t need them destroying my home.”

He looked back in time to see the woman’s form shimmer and disappear. His eyes scanned the ridge, removing one of his axes; testing the weight of it in his hand.

“By the bridge.” A voice called out to the shuffling of men and women. Soon the walls were teaming with guards, looking in every which direction, spears bristling over the parapets like an angry porcupine as shields filled the crenels.

Slowly the heavy iron studded doors opened, revealing Eirik standing by himself. He strode forward, closing half of the distance as his Berserkers filled the doorway, moving no further.

“I have seen Odyn with my own eyes. I have witnessed the might of the Valarjar and the glory of the Halls of Valor. Your tricks do not impress me.” His voice rang out through the mist, filling the gap between the two.

@pale-revenant

[scassira-chronicles]

As the Lord himself moved forward, so did the woman, meeting each stride. But soon, they would be only a few paces away from one another- while the man was armed and ready, he would see her weapons along her thighs and waist, arms settled along her sides. The woman’s lips moved into a slow smile at his words, but she remained still for a moment or two longer before finally tilting her head back enough for the man to see two piercing, glacial grey irises beneath the darkened hood.

The woman would be that of an ethereal being, something only written in folk tails with her ghostly looks. When she spoke, it was smooth, subtle, much like a siren’s call. “I am not here to impress you.” She shifted her gaze only a fraction to take in the readied battlements before once more letting them rove along his form. “You are the leader of this castle, then,” she spoke factually rather than accusatory. “Your men and women are superstitious. I can sense it.”

Another step or two closer, her body held in an nonthreatening stance, she would pause before him, tilting her head up to his barbaric form so he might see her more fully. Her complexion was pristine, not a single blemish marred it’s snowy surface. She’d drop her voice, her next words intended only for his ears.

“I look for allies in this time of strife. And you, Lord Claymont,” she’d used the title to see if she was correct on her positioning within the hills and the rumors that flew from the north. “You have something I am interested in.”

@eirikclaymont

[musings-ofa-madman]

Eirik fixed his green eyes upon her, the same green that matched his tabard. His expression border-lined boredom; a placid look that was half forced. “Good because you are doing a shit job at it.” Eirik quipped back, his fingers sliding along the smooth wooden shaft of his axe.  He didn’t know who she was but the magic she possessed was worrisome, especially to one who possessed none. He allowed her to continue talking, listening not only to her words but how she spoke them. He was no fool and prided himself on being a bit more sound of mind then the rest of his lot, save for maybe his sister.

As she stepped closer he made no move to flinch or step back. Instead he lifted his chin, his lips tugging down into a slight frown. There was something off about the woman. Her beauty was tenfold and her words were honeyed, yet he sensed a poison lingering just below the surface.

“I thrive on strife.” He said, making no attempt to clarify who he was to her. She was smart enough to guess it. “But I have nothing to offer those who offer nothing in return and what could you possibly have that others didn’t bring to me first?”

[scassira-chronicles]

“What could I possibly have,” she chuckled dryly, her ethereal form shifting along the bridge as her cloak billowed behind her in the gloomy haze of the mountain. “Depends what you are looking for, really. If anything.”

She turned her back on him, an intriguing motion for he could have attempted to cut her down right then… though he’d have failed. Instead she moved along silently, pacing a bit as she spread her arms gesturing toward his home.

“You’ve this lovely castle that is well fortified and guarded with your men and women. You’ve a reputation for for combat skills and influence in a particular little council. And if we are being candid,”

She moved closer again, that ghostly yet entrancing persona in his personal space, silver eyes spiked with ambrosia peering at him. “That corruption above our head is quite the omen for your people’s superstitions and fear is struck in their very hearts. Their very souls.”

She let her last words linger a moment or two as she simply stared into his own hues, “Am I wrong, Claymont?” Her lips had twitched into a hint of a smirk for she could feel each and every soul that surrounded the man, including his very own. “I’m looking for allies. And you should feel quite fortunate I’ve come to you as such… and not for what could have been.”

[eirikclaymont]

Eirik looked her over with deadpan eyes. He would give her no show of emotion, he didn’t know who she was and she didn’t deserve anything from him. “I ain’t looking for shit I don’t have.” He cleared his throat and spit off the bridge down into the abyss below.

He was growing beyond annoyed, the witch, as he came to think of her, was toying with him and it was a gesture he didn’t take kindly. Yet he was no fool and stayed his hand. He knew she wouldn’t be so stupid as to come alone and the thought tickled the back of his mind. He turned his eyes away from her, scanning the ridges before he brought two fingers to his lips and let loose a shrill whistle.

Nothing happened.

Or at least that’s what may have appeared as deeper within the castle the Berserker’s were set free, turned towards the mountains as they began to climb in search of whoever or whatever may have been lurking.

“The weaker minded may be superstitious but a witch like yourself would have no hold over them. Odyn watches and he protects those that are his. We may not be Valarjar, but we still keep to the old ways and for that we are noticed.”

He turned away from her, walking to the edge of the bridge as he looked down. Deep within the chasm he could see the spikes of stones, carved by endless torrents of rain.

“You are correct on one thing though.” He turned back to her, leaning his rear against the cool wet stones. “You are fortunate to have come to me looking for an Alliance. It would have been bad for you if you weren’t.”

[purpleladyaesthetics]

[eirikclaymont]

Stone Hearth and her lands.

[scassira-chronicles]

The woman had found herself in the lands of the north, her body shielded by leather garb of earthy hues as the winds whipped about her form. She was standing on a peak, silver hues hidden behind a hood as she looked down toward the castle obscured by the rolling fogs. It could have been an eerie sight, but it reminded her of her new home, though this place held a certain atmosphere she seemed drawn too.

Her cloaked billowed behind her, the woman’s form along the foggy peak perhaps an omen to anyone who saw. Or maybe she was seen as something of a goddess instead. What about a ghost? If anyone saw her staring down to their lands, many thoughts likely rolled through their minds. Who is she? Why is she there?

She was still, utterly content just letting her senses take in all she was witnessing. Perhaps it merely calmed her. But she remained. @eirikclaymont

[musings-ofa-madman]

“My Lord.”

The words pulled Eirik from his stupor, his eyes shifting from the fire pit to the mail clad guard. He took a moment as he examined the man, older and in his forties with a beard jutting from his half helm, a shock of grey through the brown mass.

“Yes?” He asked dully, already forgotten what had preoccupied his mind moments before.

“There has been a sighting, someone or something up in the mountains.”

Eirk could tell that no matter what he said the matter would be pressed. He knew the superstitious lot his people were and sometimes there was no convincing them otherwise. “Agertha.” Eirik called out, his shield maiden appearing a moment later. “Let’s go for a walk.” He smiled to her, pushing himself out of the maple chair as he headed deeper into his home.

Mail the color of forest greens was thrown over his head,  the hauberk protecting his vitals. A tabard depicting the twin ravens of his house worn over it as he fixed his twin axes to his back. There were no precautions that shouldn’t be taken. The mountain clans often gave him no trouble, as he was one of them, yet raiding parties were common as the summer days grew shorter.

Leaving the great stone manor, he stepped outside into the fog, taking a deep breath of the mountain air. He walked the length of the bridge, climbing the outer wall as he looked towards the mountains. Several guards had clustered together, spears in their hands as they talked quietly between themselves. It was clear they were fixated upon a single target, the mysterious figure in the mountains.

“Watch the hills. Last we need are the clans descending while you are all gawking.” He barked at them which was reiterated by his shield maiden, her own spear swatting them along.

“So what do you think?” He asked once Agertha returned to his side.

“Someone looks to be a long way from home.”

@pale-revenant

[scassira-chronicles]

Someone was indeed a long way from home. As the woman stood along the hill crest, the cloak and leather garb she wore whipped around wildly in the mountain air. She was still for quite some time, as if a statue carved atop the stone peak, chiseled out to be a stark reminder that the hills truly did have eyes. Shadows flickered along the darkened crevices of the mountain, her gaze settling on whom she deemed the Lord of the castle below.

“You are only observing. Do not engage,” she spoke to her fifty guards through a shared communication. The men and women concealed within the shades of outcroppings of the mount itched for a battle, but they would be disappointed this day, for she was not there to wage war. No, she was there to simply observe and… perhaps speak with the man below. The twin ravens along their fronts was clue enough as to exactly who was below, rumors of the Northern Council running through her mind.

A curious woman indeed, one who was not only dangerous, but quite the information gatherer as well – specifically when hired as such.

Eventually, her form shimmered as the gathered below would witness their superstitions come to life. The clouds and fog around her seemed to all but swallow the feminine form in its maw, causing her to become translucent for a mere instant. But only a few moments later would the same figure reappear at the far end of the bridge from where they stood, solidifying as her body once more moved into their visual plane.

With a hood pulled up over her head to conceal true features, she simply stood there, unmoving. They would have been foolish to believe she was unarmed, but the way she held her self, arms to the sides of her form, gloved palms upward a fraction in a sign of a nonthreatening manner – only the ghostly pale skin of her chin and nose, and the darkened outline of her lips were visible.

@eirikclaymont and @eveshadows for very vague mentions.

[eirikclaymont]

Eirik stared at the figure, the mists and clouds surrounding her as she stood upon a nearby peak. His eyes then moved to the crags and crevices that surrounded her before he turned around and looked over the distant walls. A foul feeling washed over him, that he was missing something that should have been fairly obvious.

“Stay alert.” He called out, his voice ringing throughout the keep.Turning to Agertha he fixed her with a look. “Arm the Beserkers but no bog myrtle. I don’t need them destroying my home.”

He looked back in time to see the woman's form shimmer and disappear. His eyes scanned the ridge, removing one of his axes; testing the weight of it in his hand.

“By the bridge.” A voice called out to the shuffling of men and women. Soon the walls were teaming with guards, looking in every which direction, spears bristling over the parapets like an angry porcupine as shields filled the crenels.

Slowly the heavy iron studded doors opened, revealing Eirik standing by himself. He strode forward, closing half of the distance as his Berserkers filled the doorway, moving no further.

“I have seen Odyn with my own eyes. I have witnessed the might of the Valarjar and the glory of the Halls of Valor. Your tricks do not impress me.” His voice rang out through the mist, filling the gap between the two.

@pale-revenant

[hammer-ov-thor]

[jossetta]

@eirikclaymont

[historyvikings]

[odessii-dragonblade]

@eirikclaymont

[eirikclaymont]

Shout out to @eveshadows for making this fantastic banner for me! 

[eirikclaymont]

Claymont Aesthetics