Tales of the Ice Harpy from Glacia

Karla hadn't expected to return to Yllestad after finding the field full of witchblood. But then the storm had blown up, and Yllestad was the only closest city where the entire army could bunk down for the night. There was no question of her people trying to set up tents tonight. The storm had beaten them here and moved northward, but they were still dealing with the gale-force winds and the odd spats of hail.They would take shelter wherever they could until the storm blew out and then settle up then. The prospect of good food and warm quarters had the army far more cheerful than one would expect, marching as they were through a literal dark and stormy night. The south gate had stood open for them, as if Yllestad had expected their return and they were only too glad to take the city up on its welcome. They entered from the south, glad to get out of the stinging wind, good-naturedly arguing which places has the most comfortable beds and most fortifying wines.

( Warning for descriptions of dead NPCs )

Fuck. Someone needed to do something. Say something. Find out what happened. There was a moment when Karla looked around, searching for someone to take command, to be the voice of authority that her people needed.

Right. Her people. That voice of authority needed to be her.

"Spread out," she barked, voice brittle. "Try to find any survivors. There have to be some, somewhere." She wasn't sure who she was trying to convince more: herself or her army. "Be thorough. Don't touch anything until we can get a better idea of what happened here! Be careful! Go in groups, cover more ground!"

She pointed towards the center of town. "GO!"

( And so they searched... )

***

Karla stopped dead--who even thought of that phrase? why do people use it? why is my brain even thinking about this stuff right now? shouldn't it be working on something more important?--when she saw what the soldier was standing over. Another body, yes, but this one was wearing a jacket.

Of course he's wearing a jacket. It's winter in Glacia, bint, everyone's wearing jackets, you could freeze to death out here!

Her brain jabbered on, trying to get her to think about ANYTHING other than the horrors in front of--behind, beside, near, far, everywhere, Mother Night everywhere--her. Karla did her best to focus, kneeling down to brush the snow and mud away. Yep, as she'd thought. The jacket was one of the big, comfortable down ones that Jono's team had been outfitted with, including the patch that half of the army had stayed up late sewing onto their shoulders.

This was one of Jono's scouts.

"Warren," she said tightly. "Warren, I need you up in the air. I need you up there now and I need you to tell me what you see."


( The news just keeps getting worse. )

***

Momoko sat straight up and looked around a moment. She'd learned over the past few months in Glacia that when she heard this faint sound of Karla's voice and felt the small tug at the back of her head, it meant Karla was broadcasting something. And broadcasting instead of calling was Not Good.

But since she wasn't telepathic, she wasn't getting the message.

"Dinah?! Samantha?! De..." She had to swallow hard when she almost called to Denys. "I hear Karla..."

"What's going on?"


( The call no one wants to get. )

[WARNING FOR THE AFTERMATH OF TRAUMA AND VIOLENCE, INCLUDING DESCRIPTIONS OF THE DEAD. Follows this, because,yeah, let's get this party started war ended! Preplayed with the wonderful crew of folks you see here. NFI, NFB, OOC is love.]

It was almost time for then to catch their portal home, but Morton had cautiously decided that there was enough time to visit one more landen village before they left. Even Julian didn't have much a problem with this, mollified by the five Blood males (and seven females) that Karla had handwavily, because cons are exhausting offered a place in her First Circle, once she'd made her Offering.

Once there, they'd scattered to their respective duties with an ease that came with having done the same thing many times within the past two weeks. Karla took over whatever building was the largest, more interested in being a Healer than a Queen, taking care of whatever ailments came her way, either with Craft, mundane medicines, or just some brisk advice. Warren sat nearby, making sure she had plenty to eat and drink, while talking to the people about their problems and their woes, making sure they felt heard, understood, and cared for. People who might otherwise have been afraid to come to Karla were set at ease by his openness and, more importantly, his lack of Jewel.

Jono and Julian were teamed up elsewhere, talking frankly about the war that Karla would be bringing to Glacia, about her plans to depose the current Queen and her Ruling Council, and making it clear that any landen who wished to fight--or even learn to better defend his village--was welcome to join with them. Jono made it very clear that the landens that joined with them would be more than simply fodder for the Blood. Their willingness to fight for a Queen that would see them as people too had even Julian offering a grudging respect.

Morton was out in the fields, delivering the Queen's Gift to nourish the crops. A cupful of Karla's blood in a bucket of water was enough to give the tiny plants new life and fullness, ensuring that the village could meet their new tithes while still having enough leftover for themselves. And Kaelas remained outside of the village, keeping watch with his superior kindred senses, which he never failed to point out to their group of tiny noses and ineffectual teeth.

[NFB, and all PCs modded with permission. Violence and dark themes in the comments, because what would a trip to Glacia be without those?]

[Continued from here]

After Lucivar finished recounting the numbers arrayed against them, he pushed himself to his feet, calling in his war blade and his bladed Eyrien sticks. "I'll be outside," he growled. "Too much fear in here."

It grated against his nerves, scraped against his precarious self-control. The fact that he had wings like their attackers only made things worse--much of the landen fear in the building was directed at him.

"I've been letting a few in at a time," he continued, "opening holes in the shield to let them through. Killing ten or twenty in the face of thousands doesn't do much, but--" He shrugged. ( What else was there to do? )

[Same alphabet soup goes here. Warning for violence. Again, still mostly 'inspired by' events in Chapter 13 of Heir to the Shadows. Part two of two; for master post list, please go here.]

(continued directly from here.)

( And still they ran )

[Warnings in place for explicit violence and potentially disturbing imagery. NFI, NFB, OOC=love. Text adapted from Chapter Thirteen of Heir to the Shadows. In that nothing like this entry ever happened in the book. List of previous entries can be found here.]

Lucivar lay on his back in the young grass, his hands behind his head, his wings spread out to dry after the quick dip in the spring-fed pool. Jaenelle and Karla were still splashing about in the cold water, washing the sweat and dirt out of their long hair. He closed his eyes and groaned contentedly as the sun slowly warmed and loosened tight muscles.

Yesterday, they'd awakened just before dawn to find Jaenelle busily rummaging through the food pack. He'd put together a hasty meal while Karla had broken down the camp before the physical tension produced by the drugs forced Jaenelle to move.

It hadn't been the unrelenting drive of the previous days, and, as the day'd worn on, physical tension gave way to emotional storms. Anger would flood her suddenly, then turn to tears. He'd given her space as she raged and swore. Karla had held her while she cried. When the storm passed, she'd been fine for a little while, perhaps as long as twenty minutes. They'd walked at an easy pace, stopping to pick wild berries or rest near a stream. Karla'd kept them entertained with stories of her crazy school and the friends who were like no Blood males or females they'd ever met. Then the cycle would start over, each time with a little less intensity.

It had still been grueling, mind. The first outburst of emotion had hit around noon, the second, a little before three. In between them, there was still the constant movement, the difficult trek made even moreso by the unforgiving pace Jaenelle had set. The intervals had shortened as Jaenelle's body tired, but even their last stretch before making camp for the night had been an hour-long hike, most of it uphill.

Which made today's late start, with the chance to sleep in past sunrise and even bathe a bit, something akin to paradisaical. Smoke was off doing a bit of hunting; the wolf had scented a herd of elk and had gone off to explore. When he came back, Lucivar was thinking of sending him back to the Keep to tell Saetan that they were all right, that Karla was with them, and that they'd be coming home from Askavi in a few more days.

Not that he was going to say anything, but he was proud of Karla. The pace was wearing on her, but she refused to complain and did her best to keep up. She wouldn't know it, but Jaenelle was slowing down a bit for her, making sure Karla didn't get outdistanced. Lucivar was grateful for anything that made Jaenelle take it a little easier. ( Though the next time the little witch cheated him out of the last mug of coffee, he was going to dunk her into the nearest lake. )

[NFI, NFB, OOC is delicious. Warning for violence. Text adapted from Chapter Thirteen of Anne Bishop's Heir to the Shadows. All of her narrative is awesome and I never said anything to the contrary. Really. Part 5 of plot (Parts one, two, three, and four). Up early because I have a problem I AM REALLY BUSY TOMORROW, OKAY?]