…
She could faintly feel the pain. Broken leg, ribs cracked and gashes covered her body. She felt her life blood dribble towards her fingertips, she knew she was lying in her own crimson. As she sat there dying, all she could do was remember…


This work would help to keep the minds of the villagers off what had occurred in the last few weeks. They had come across the body of an aged arial, sprawled against the rocks of Mortorn. His grey feathers had been untouched by the ravages of vultures and his eyes were closed as if he chose that very place to sleep. Intronan had died not long ago, his aging body found just as he chose his place to die, alone.

Alas, the glory of the War-gods. So too did she watch in awe as two spirits came down from the heavens ghost-like yet filled with radiance beyond definition. Nerylana had seen many a beautiful thing in her life: ale that was more drink than froth, wine that tickled your toes and men who chose not to wear their loincloth on their heads for the amusement of the village women. This however, was breathtaking. Even with the brilliance of the light she could make out the colorful attire of a slender figure that was known as the boisterous village bard. Kastellyn was a lean figure though he commanded respect with wise expression upon his youthful face. The other figure was that of a red-haired dwarf. Known upon sight as the Dwarven Thane.

“Bah! He’s a bloody idjut. Look at em. Sleepin’ when he should be out killin’ those filthy wizards.”

“Maybe he’s drunken?” replied Kastellyn who quickly took a swig from his own mug.

“He ain’t drunk. He’s too old fer that yak,” snorted HammerSong. He walked up to the sprawled figure of Intronan and cuffed him across the back of his head.

“Wake up yer bastard!”

No response came from the Commander.

“I’ll be ya’ Tar Valon whore! He’s good an’ drunk,” exclaimed Kastellyn who roughly kicked the fallen arial.

“Bah! I flamin’ hate havin’ te do this.” Hammersong took a few steps toward the fallen arial and gently lifted him up. A peaceful expression was all that remained upon the face of the proud Commander. He had led well. Gently placing a stubby hand upon the forehead of the avian creature, Thror bent closely and breathed life into the unmoving Intronan.

Kastellyn began to giggle uncontrollably.

Laying down the body, the dwarven god took a step back allowing the spirit of Intronan to rise from the fallen corpse. His expression was not that of a peaceful and proud Commander.

Kastellyn continued to giggle.

Casting a hardened glance back at the bard, Thror approached the spirit of my Commander.

“Yer ready fer the ascension lad,” questioned Thror.
Intronan nodded and replied, “You didn’t have to slobber on me HammerSong.”

Kastellyn chuckled loudly and said, “Ya kissed a corpse.”

Only two of them were laughing…

There were multiple hands grasping at her, some attempting to bandage her wounds, others softly talking among themselves while assessing the situation. Nerylana was sure that she had died, but somewhere in the distance between Vahalla and her dreams she heard the words,

“She will live.”

………