Dwarfdude
Official KMC F*ck Monkey
(Hmmmm....Lets see if I can get this thing kicking again, shall I?)
Istalindir and Njord had gotten split up on their journey southward, during a skirmish with a few bandits. Njord now headed south on his own, the battlements of Tal-Quarwn (or whatever) in sight. He smiled at the site. He had been here twice prior, and both times he had been amazed, as he was now, of the city's grandness. Its walls and towers were high, the great fortress of the south's were. Njord smiled and reigned in at the ford, where other travellers were camped, as the city did not open its gates at night. Njord set up his own camp, away from the others, and away from the road.
He tied his horse to a grand willow that draped itself like a giant stage curtain over the banks of the White River. He set his camp here, making a small fire just outside the protective shield of leaves of the willow. He remember another willow, much like this one, that he had sat and pondered by a no more than a week before. He sighed, looking at his hand, at the pact he had made with the drow. Njord stared into the orange depths of the fire, wondering where in Varakor's name they were. Had they all been killed? No, Njord knew that the vampire and the drow would not so easily die. Maybe they had given up in their quest? Njord doubted that as well, but that seemed most likely.
Njord sighed, resigning to himself that he was a lone wanderer who would never find another with his same cause. Just another unfulfilled pact.
But at that thought, Njord jumped up, denying that he would ever break another pact. He packed his camp, kicked dirt on the fire, mounted his horse, and rode back to the north.
He would not be denied his revenge. And since he could not accomplish take revenge alone, he would need others for his cause.
He would need the drow, vampire, and elf.
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Njord arrive at the battlefield two days after everyone had left, and he noted the masses of shallow graves, show of which had already been dug up, their inhabitents missing or being picked clean of their flesh by ravens, crows, and buzzards. He knew that they had been here, he could sense the entity of darkness here. He sighed, knowing that he, having travelled across the countryside, proabably passed them as they took the road. Jerking his horse around, Njord whispered into his weary horses ear, "Ga ein sofik", or "a little more". The horse forced itself into a gallop, Njord, just as tired from the journey, urging it into greater haste.
He rode back south.
He rode back towards his prey.