Solo A Fiend Slayer's Trinkets

[Belugnir]

Afternoon of Fall 1st, North Ravok Outpost:

It had barely been a full day since Ein had come back to the outpost, having brought Samara her supplies, escorting an old peddler nortwhard... and nearly finding his death on both errands. He was battered and tired something horrid, yet it was his gear that suffered worse than him, thankfully. Regardless, he had repairs to make, and though barely returned from the edge of exhaustion, he would find offers of work plentiful soon. Still, his armor needed patching up and his poleaxe might as well have been a crooked hammer in its current state. Its handle broken, blade and pike bent from the wounds they dug in the monstrous wolf that assailed him on his way from the city. He needed both repaired, and fast, if he was to journey southward again. Thus he made way for the Wulfstan Outfitters hut, naturally displeased with the prospect of having to spend coin on repairs between jobs.

On his way in he spotted a fellow departing from the shop, back hunched and in a sour mood. Likely another mercenary and customer. And the man's apparent attitude didn't help improve Ein's own expectations... and neither did the sight of an annoyed, fidgeting woman behind the stall once he'd entered the hut.

''Good day, welcome to--'', the girl was quick to hide her frustrated attitude, straighten her back and put on a modest smile once she'd spotted a new arrival, and quicker yet to reveal that same attitude again when she noticed the dumbfounded look on Einar's face. ''Did you come here for service or to gawk and annoy like the rest of you brazen oaf outsiders?''

Apparently one look at him was enough to tell he was not a Stryfer, petch, that he was nowhere from near Ravok. And one look was rather enough to tell Einar wasn't the only one having a busy day.

''Or did you expect a burly, bearded bastard standing behind the stall?''

Ah, so there was some personal offense taken today as well... Not that Ein cared or had anything to do with it. His briefly stunted glance was quickly replaced by a heartfelt, dismissive squint, shoulders rolling into a shrug, emphasizing the coat of plates he held bundled in one hand, and the two halves of a broken poleaxe in the other. It took but a couple of steps forward to place his damaged and ruined equipment before the woman.

''I couldn't care if you had nine beards, five pairs of tits and a prick in between each so long as you can fix those for me.'', he stated sternly with a perfectly straight face.

Now was the shopkeeper's turn to look dumbfounded, before chrotling a sudden and brief breath of laughter. Albeit that was quick to subside once her eyes fell on the ruined pleaxe, broken staff and bent steel.

''...How?'', she demanded, baffled at the sight.

''Isn't that part of your job to figure out?, petch do you mean 'How?', woman?

''No I mean... how in Rhysol's name did you petch it up like that?'', she corrected herself. ''Did you get drunk of your ass and keep hewing and stabbing away at a solid boulder for an entire night or something?'' It was a reasonable question, in all regards. A tough and robust wooden shaft and a thick hunk of iron shaped into three-way weaponized extentions was an instrument certainly more reliable and sturdy than say a sword, or even a spear, as spears oft had longer, flexible and thus less sturdy handles, albeit swords were more difficult and spears reasonably easier to craft.

WC: 607

[Belugnir]

Ah. Ein paused a moment, before rising his hands to idle and purposeless gesture.

''Well, there was a creature, you see, two days ago, down the road from the lake... Looked awful like a wolf, 'cept far bigger. Had two pairs of eyes shining the color of frost, and two and an extra pair of limbs at its front, looked mighty like human arms, 'cept with all the fur and claws.'', he explained, wholly aware that he'll likely not be taken seriously... and he wasn't, apparent by the skeptical smile that blossomed up from the woman's apparent confusion when he'd began talking. Still, the monstrosity that nearly tore his head off not two nights ago was a difficult thing to forget... especially when he could still hear the faded echo of its voice crawling about whenever he was about to fall asleep. Hopefully ridicule would help him diminish the trauma.

''Could it also talk?'', the girl decided to scoff fondly... yet her question gave Ein a moment of dreadful pause.

''Y-yes, actually.'', he mumbled to confirm, before realizing he was loosing face and attempting to conjure a sly smile. ''Was talkative something mighty, in fact, and spoke hissing all fanciful like.''

''Really now?'', at this point she was dismissing him as attempting too hard to impress, and his brief stutter sat oddly with her, though bantering about Einar's tale and his properly ruined equipment was still more intriguing than idly standing about and waiting for soldiers and mercenaries to come in with their gruff attitudes and attempts at mysterious bravado, requesting a sword be resharpened or a buckle replaced. ''What did it say?'', her tone still emphasized that she hardly believed what he'd said thus far.

Ein rose a brow. He wasn't a dimwit not to realize that the girl was skeptically amused by his story, what intrigued him was the fact that a reasonably fair lass, running a business rooted in Ravok hadn't yet utterly and disdainfully dismissed him as some 'vagik' southern filth like folk here usually tended to. That and conjuring the proper memory of the wolven fiend's peculiar speech took him a moment.

''Well... we had a rather sizable campfire between the three of us. The creature seemed to take offense to that. And apparently this--'', he gestured toward the black fur mantle fastened about his shoulders, fashioned from the hide of a lesser black wolf whom he'd slain some seasons ago, with the beast's head still recognisable as decoration.''--Used to be one of its offspring. And so the monster kept hollerin' something along the lines of... 'Child-slayer be gone. Be gone. And take thy cinders with you. Cinder-Fiend be gone. In a mudden cradle you shall sleep forever and ever.', something like that.'', Ein nodded, rather proud of his somewhat abridged parody of the monstrous wolf.

Toward the end of the rugged man's presentation, the shopkeeper had leaned over her stall, one hand supporting under her chin, atop which now stood a smile not so dismissive as pondering. Maybe she was incligned to believe at least an ounce of the nonsense she'd just heard. If anything the mantle about the man's neck was possibly proof that he'd killed some wolf out there. Then again maybe he bought a hide off of some cheap peddler just to have a means of boasting. Still, when he boasted, he boasted something fantastical and with what appeared to be an uncanny self awareness.

''So... did you kill the monster?''

''Hardly.'', Ein gestured back to the broken poleaxe. ''The pike bent against its ribs when I'd stuck it into its chest. And the blade bent so as I struck over the shoulder of one of its... arms?... and eventually lopped it off.'' Cockin' hell, I even brought the bloody bastard's severed limb along...

''Ah, and such a dreadful and ferocious beast just stood still and let you impale it and cut one of its limbs off?'', the girl scoffed warmly yet again.

''Why, of course not, I've had a skinny slave lass I bought off a shady fellow down south help me and hold it in place before it wrested free and ran off into the woods.'', Ein explained almost gleefully, sporting a childish grin, before both of them cracked into a long, hard laughter. Ein was a shyke storyteller, and frankly, had not every ounce of what he'd said been indeed true, he could never have come up with such a story. Even if in retrospect it made absolutely no sense.

''Fascinating tale you've told...'', the shopkeep decided, eyes almost watery from laughing the hardest she did in a while. ''What was your name again?''

''Einar. Einar Belugnir.'', by some forgotten merit of ettiquete forced into him by his childhood caretakers, Ein extended a hand for the girl to shake without even considering it.

''Einar... Hm.'', for a moment she sounded dreamy, trying to catch his eye with it too, as it seemed. Though Ein was likely more skeptical about the girl's honesty than she was about his little tale. ''I rather think I'm going to like you, Einar. I am Hannah Wulfstan.'', him being skeptical or not, it seemed to be a rather fond and heartfelt handshake the girl gave him. ''You can leave your gear with me and I'll see what I can do about repairs.''

''Any chance they might be finished within two days?'', he inquired, mind moving toward practical matters.

''Two days?'', Hannah scoffed. ''I'm an arms dealer, not a sorceress.''

''Come now, I must be off for the city again by that time. I'd rather have good armaments in case I run into the big parent wolf again.'', his attempt at a charming plea shook him with cold dread as the thought of fighting that monstrosity bare handed fully manifested itself.

At this Hannah gave him a shake of her head, a disapproving smile, and half of a frown. ''Very well then, Bellie.'', the frown Ein gave her upon hearing the nickname bestowed upon him forced another self-satisfied breath of laughter out of the girl. ''I'll try to postpone something less urgent on account of a fine fellow's needy repairs.''

Ein was far from used to thanking people, and truly far from used to being teased as opposed to being outright shunned. And the tone with which he would have spoken up after a hearty nod betrayed that fact perfectly.

''...Much obliged.''


WC: 1068

[Belugnir]

Morning of Fall 45th:

''M-my word, Einar is that you...?'', Hannah was reasonably baffled at the sight of the man who'd visited her some month and a half ago and whose gear she'd repaired ahead of schedule. He came to the hut in naught but a pair of ragged and charred trousers, shirtless, barefoot, and looking aptly as if he'd just dug his way out of his own grave... which he indeed had, in a way. And he certainly didn't bother digging graves for Rastmo and his crew, leaving their bare bodies to rot in the sun and feed the crows. What he did do was haul an entire small stockpile of weapons over from their encampment, and ultimately brought it here to conclude some business with the only resident arms dealer of the outpost.

''Aye, what's it look like to you?'', he snapped, tittering, still not wholly recovered from the trauma and the overgiving that he'd been through. Only part of him was currently the man he'd been some odd forty days ago. Another part was a plain corpse, silent and slumbering, and yet another was an absolute madman, broken into a giggling mess in wake of the insanity that he'd witnessed himself comitting in those last weeks.

''We happen to need new clothes.'', Ein explained, fidgeting the bundle of weapons he'd scoured off of Rastmo and his scattered band. ''Ah but... can't dress in swords and axes, no.'', he tilted his head to the side, pondering the memory and the fact that a good deal of the weapons he hauled were at some point lodged in his body several days ago.''Well, you can, but they's not very comfortable, no.'' His head shook decidedly. ''So we come to trade. Arms for coin, and then coin for cloth afterward, somewhere else.'', a pair of enthusiastic nods followed, belike a child that had just figured out some impossible puzzle. ''Yes, yes.'' Frankly, Ein had been in a far worse state after leaving the camp behind. As he'd made way to the outpost for the last couple of days he was a barren husk, almost entirely relieved of proper thought and pondering. Yet even so, what sanity there was in him had fought a long and hard war to conquer the shambles of its mind again and put his wit back together, and though his sense of self was still shaken, he was considerably aware of himself again, albeit apparently unable to keep his gob from running on and on with what seemed like mindless jibberish. He knew why he'd come to the girl's shop. It wasn't just to swap weapons for some coin. He needed help. And out of the few folk from the outpost that he knew on a basis that went past exchanging disdainful glances, she was the only reliable one that came to his mind.

Hannah was dumbfounded, staring at the mess of a man stood at her stall, uncertain whether she should call for a healer or for the guards... perhaps both. Ein kept tilting his head at her, pondering on why on earth she had been so speechless.

''...Are you drunk? What happened to you?'', she finally managed to speak up, still fearfully eyeing the marks of death and ruin that he wore on his bare body.

''Drunk? Drunk? No, no... W-we, we m-met fiends in the forest again, yes, yes.'', he spoke on, struggling to cease being a mere witness of his own insanity. I met Rastmo. ''They killed us, and we killed them, we killed them harder, yes, yes.'', he heard himself mumbling through a hissing giggle again. 'I' killed him. And those three cocksuckers willing to die for the whoreson. Shut up. ''We killed them harder, yes.''

It was a long pause with the girl uncertain of what to make of his jibberish nonsense.

''...You met the wolf again...?'', Hannah glanced at the trophy that hung from the wall behind her. There stood the stuffed arm of the beast that Ein had gifted her upon retrieving his equipment from repairs before he'd set out southward half a season ago. To prove that he was not a shameless liar and as a sign of appreciation for her indulging him with putting his order ahead of whatever some grumpy Stryfer may have paid her for. Albeit the girl was now tempted to reach for one of the weapons he'd dumped on her stall plainly to defend herself and chase the crazed vagabond out if given cause... She nearly decided to grasp an axe's handle, when Ein spoke up again, after a long moment of looking at the beast's severed limb himself.

''N-no.'', he uttered, heavy groggines mixing with his gleeful idiocy. ''No, w-we... I... I met something worse.'', his eyes went with a sharpening focus to that of the woman before him. ''...I met my kinsmen. A slaver from Sunberth and his band of vagabond mercenaries.''

This seemed to confuse the baffled girl even further, especially as Ein now began to speak with a tone of aged frustration, as if hateful at the memories he had to dig up to answer her.

We killed them harder, yes, yehehes., he felt a grumble in his belly, demanding senseless laughter. We lost our iron scales and our shiny fish mail. So they cut us and stabbed us and broke us.

I'll be broken no longer, now be silent.

They shot us through the head and we snapped their neck with wood and knuckle, yes, yes.

Shut up.

We cracked an egg with a hammer, yes, and yelps and brains leaked out, yes.

That is enough. Grasping his head, Einar bent forth to lean his elbows against the stall before him, as if he would collapse from some ungodly and sudden headache.

They bound and stabbed us and placed filthy things in us. And then they bound and stabbed us again. Yes. And we hugged them, yes, yes. But they couldn't take it, no. No, 'pop' went their neck. And --

Cease for I will bite the tongue from my mouth before I let you utter another word with it and gouge my eyes afore you get another glance at the world!

The madman's voice began to feel distant, fading on and on... 'till there was silence.

Realizing his chest had cramped together and stood still, Ein opened his mouth to take in a hurried breath, eyes teary with joy, lips sporting a honest smile of satisfaction, free of insanity... Then he brought his gaze upward and saw Hannah, frightfully rearing a up the swing of a sword.

WC: 1099

[Belugnir]

''Hannah wait, please wait, I'm sorry.'', Hah, 'I', his hands went up defensively as he stepped backward.

''You will be if you don't start making sense this bloody instant!'', aparently the girl had had enough far sooner than he did... albeit she likely hadn't been quite literally killed some five times over in the last couple of days, Ein figured.

''Right... right... Just...'', an inhuman struggle took him for a moment, as he tried to refrain from his smiling sighs of relief, afeared they'd be misleadingly reminiscent of the idiocy he kept spewing until a moment ago. ''Just let me collect myself, please.

''Oh you need collecting something fierce. Maybe I'll have the Stryfers collect you?'', her voice was fierce with annoyance.

''What, no, no, please, I didn't...'', Please? Am I some muttering welp now? Stoneless and spineless?... ''They killed me thrice over, for love's sake, I came to you for help!'', he heard himself protest, whimpering plea fading in place of demanding attitude... which finally pushed the girl over the edge long enough for her to hurl the sword he'd held at him.

''Then help yourself, you mand cunt!'', he fealt his heart sinking at the words... It took him a long moment to glance down and realize a sword stood lodged in his belly... Again. Right... I forgot. I don't need armor anymore, do I?

Body too sluggish to follow his mind's pace, he rose a betrayed glance to the girl, who'd realized what she'd done but an instant after the weapon left her hand. Sure, he was not a citizen, but she'd heard enough from him in his brief couple of visits to know that Einar had been a long-since staying member of the outpost, and that he'd done a mighty fine amount of work on the behalf of the city... and that she found him moderately amusing, if occasionally repulsive. Certainly, nobody at the outpost would concern themselves if Ein simply disappeared never to be seen again... but she would, if only an ounce. Ravokians, dismissive of outsiders as they were, were still people. And murdering someone, no matter who they may be, in a fit of frustration is not something people shrug off before going off to have a peaceful night of sleep... Ein would certainly agree with her on that note.

The two exchanged stunned glances that seemed like an eternity... yet Ein, better aware of, if not wholly familiar with what was going on with his body, would speak up first.

''...That is one way to treat a mad whoreson who more or less breaks into your shop before the first light of morning, I suppose...'', he acknowledged, on the edge of weeping, from sorrow or from a need of laughter, he couldn't rightly tell. Mayhaps both.

The girl simply stood, blinking rapidly, eyes bolting between the man's own and the sword she'd lodged in his already marred belly, a visible urge to scream out coming to her when she witnessed him casually pulling the blade out and calmly, if not tiredly, leaning it, bloodied up as it was, against the nearest rack of weapons.

''I shouldn't have stumbled in here jibbering as I did. I'm sorry.'', The awareness of one's immortality, the absence of pain and thus the absence of fear... well it did odd things to calm the mind... and in Ein's case, relieve it of its usual stern profanity.

''What in Rhysol's name is going on?'', the mention of her god gave the girl an idea for answering her question already, and realization shone on her face... Especially after she took a more purposeful look at the man again, specifically at his one eye that was, unknown to her, left with its pupil dulled to a pale silvery, nearly white color in wake of starfire that had bestowed him with this confusing invulnerability. Opal eyed and rather indifferent to injury... Was this man some newly marked Chaon... Yet he was an outsider... Was he marked by Rhysol without even realizing? Was he the world's most bored Druvin come here to see how she'd react to his idiocy? She chrotled at the thought. Certainly wouldn't be the most otherworldly thing to find in Ravok.

''I do hope this was not some backwards attempt of yours at winning a woman's affection, 'outsider'.'', somehow the thought hadn't occured to her yet that his man might have been instead cursed by the local god or come to gripes with Rhysol's actual servants.

At this, Einar who, unlike Hannah, knew next to naught of the Rhysol and his servants in spite of his extensive presence in Ravok, gave a confused frown... albeit it lasted for but a moment, seeing the girl's mood had brightened up... Maybe he shouldn't explain what had happened to him at all...? It's not as if he was wholly certain of it himself.

''Well, I wouldn't know... But... is it working, by any chance..?''

''There's plenty of swords left in here and I won't shy from hurling them at you again.'', she scoffed.

There was laughter to be had again. Hannah laughing at the apparent idiocy of what she assumed was a newly marked servant of Rhysol trying to charm her... and Einar... well, he laughed for a great deal of reasons, though he himself hadn't rightly known what they were.

''You are damn lucky nobody but me would have been here this early in the morning to watch you embarass yourself so., Hannah shook her head.

WC: 916

[Belugnir]

''Seriously now, what's happened to you?'', the girl finally inquired, giving him pause anew, giving a fascinated glance as she saw the tear she'd made in the man's stomach begin to mold itself back together, albeit leaving behind a notable, rather nasty mark on his skin.

''Well... I think it began with a bolt to my back... after which I recieved one to the head... at that point I'd already gotten two of the whoresons who chased me...'', he paused, memory of what had happened before Rastmo's men captured him being something foggy. ''At some point during the chase I was struck by something... maybe one of 'em was a sorcerer and sent fire my way, don't rightly remember...'', his hand fell upon the bundle of cloth at his hip that he'd only just now remembered hung from the bind of his trousers, and one that Hannah hadn't exactly cared to notice as it seemed. Within stood the uncanny magical stone that had been Ein's main suspect in his sudden predicament of... being immortal. ''From there I tore through the ropes they bound me with while I was passed out...'', for the first time in the last three days did Ein truly look at the wake of trauma upon his hands. Crooked scarring was abundant all across, albeit most disturbingly visible where the ropes had quite literaly torn off lumps of flesh from the lower ends of his palms. His hands were whole and functional. But they looked something horrid... and his left arm and the breast connected to it... seemed an altogether different color than the rest of his body... as if flayed and then strapped with rags of new skin that was seared cold onto him. ''...And then I managed to break free, snap the leader's neck and kick up absolute madness about their encampment, took a sword to the gut, some knives to the side and...'', his voice trailed off as he looked at the traces of all the injuries he'd now recalled recieving.

''May I have a mirror?''

Hannah had begun shaking her head halfway through watching Ein's peaceful reminiscing of being killed multiple times as he'd only now realized that he was in fact scarred beyond reason. It was like watching a groggy child narrate their most recent fantastical dream... yet at this point she'd known better than to discard the mercenary's claims as lunacy... More so after witnessing him so casually shrugging off a sword to the gut.

She'd brought him a steel shield, polished to such perfection that it may as well have been made of solid glass, giving off a glow of its own. It was not a mirror, but it would do more than enough for him to witness the absurdity of his uncanny appearance.

''I'll be petched...'', it was as if someone had sawed him in half and then stitched half of a dug-up corpse onto him... The entire left side of his torso, along with its corresponding arm and the majority of his face bore the mark of starfire from the stone that had fallen upon him from the heavens and made him immortal. Skin was charred off and then reassembled as much as heavy burnts would let themselves be... The left side of his face looked belike someone had ripped the skin off of it so casually as if it were a peace of paper loosely bound to the flesh it covered. His left eye and nearly half the scalp of hair that crowned the forehead above had completely lost their dim copper color in place of dull ashen. By comparison, the repeated stab wounds to his left hip and the front of his stomach, along with the scar from having his own poleaxe buried into his back... the wounds that he remembered earning, were minor in comparison.

''Why, I think it adds to your character.'', the girl announced, rather amused at the dumbfounded awe in which Ein found himself.

''Had I wished to add to my character I would've stuck a flower in me hair or some shyke...'', Ein mumbled in dismissal... now glancing downward with the realization he had naught but a pair of ruined trousers in way of clothing on him.

''Whatever became of the armor I repaired for you?'', the girl inquired Certainly would have kept you looking less... divided.''

Ein gave a frown at her witticism, before discarding it in favor of a pondering expression. He untied the bundle of weapons completely to reveal his ruined suit of banded mail beneath. Plate, doublet and chainmail molten, charred and broken all across the left side. Hannah seemed more startled one she'd seen the suit of armor than whe she'd first seen Einar that day.

''...How?'', she begged to know... yet this time Ein had no answer.

''Found it like that in the whoresons' camp after I chased 'em off... Honestly it beats me as well...'', it might have been a sorcerer among them, struck him with some fiery ruination... but then why hadn't he fought anyone using magic when he awoke at the encampment...? ''Beats me.''

''I still think you were drunk off your ass for a good deal of the nonsense you've been through.'', the girl accused him aptly, at which he gave a snort.

''Believe me when I tell you that the vow I gave myself to never pick up a pint again runs deeper and stronger than any devout fanatic's faith.'', he was only half jesting... what with the idiocy he'd comitted and been put through on his last two drunken stupors.

Hannah shook her head once again. ''Either way. This armor is ruined beyond anyone's ability to repair... I could order a replacement for you, have nothing like this on hand.'', thought went back to the purpose of the hut in which they stood.

''I don't suppose I need it anymore...'', Ein noticed, albeit somewhat doubtful now after seeing the trauma he was left with... albeit ultimately deciding he'd rather spend coin on indulding in food and pleasantry now... yet that thought quickly became dull and uninteresting in his mind.

''I could use it as scrap metal and have my workers make something useful of it... And I'll keep the haul you've brought in for a bit of evaluation... But I think you'll stand to make a fair bit of coin regardless... And what of your poleaxe? Will you sell it as well?'', her eyes went to the weapon Ein left leaning by the entrance on his way in.

Even in his idiotic madness he still held on to the one instrument that had been his saving grace throughout the years, only leaving it and briefly forgetting it in the midst of regaining proper sanity after all the morbid nonsense he'd 'lived' through. That poleaxe served him past the thugs and muggers of Sunberth, past the monsters and sorcerers of Sahova, past his journey northward, past assassins on the streets of Ravok... past that filthy whore's son Rastmo... Ein went glancing at the stuffed trophy behind the girl.

''Nay, I'll be keeping it a while longer.'', there was purpose and intent, heavy in his voice.

WC: 1195

[Belugnir]

Fall 51st, Evening:

Hannah was stood alone in her shop, facing the stall from the side where her customers usually stood. She was closing after a long and dull day with few visits.

Then the creak of the shop's unlocked door and a whisper crawled up from behind her.

''We killed them. Bit and tore and chewed.'', an uncannily hissing voice spoke.

The woman turned around, a long dagger already in her hand, yet when she saw the four eyed head of a grotesque wolf poking through the door, she froze dead in her tracks, the only movement in her being a tremble in her knees... It only lasted for a moment before she realized the creature's jaw was moving limply and completely unnaturally for the words that were meant to follow from its mouth.

''Ah, but they killed us harder. Stabbed and sliced and struck they did...'', her sudden dread completely faded when she'd given the voice a second good listen.

''You are a shyke performer.'', she scoffed, an equal measure of gladness and annoyance mixed with the disbelief as she'd found the words to speak.

The wolf's head was lowered with an apologetic sigh, before Ein fully opened the door and took a step in.

''Come now, it wasn't that--'', he'd barely managed to pull the severed fiend's head up to intercept the knife that Hannah had hurled at him.

''Ho, there. Was it that bad?''

''No.'', the girl grumbled. ''But you should have known better than to try startling me and being cheeky. Especially after the way you came in here last time... And what are you even fending off for, I thought you were all immortal and shyke now?''

''Ah, eh... Apologies... And as for being immortal...'', he pulled at the collar of his shirt to desplay the marrings left upon him by his final encounter with the wolven monster. There was the deep scar of a savage tear running across his neck horizontally. ''I think I lost my immortality after loosing my head.'', he grinned childishly at the remark. ''So please no more with the weapon hurling, alright?''

Hannah crossed her arms with what she wished would be a skeptical pout, yet she was aware that the man .

''It tore your head off, huh?''

''Sure did. I'll tell you, it's something, watching your own headless body sticking a pike through something's brain.'', he nodded with plentiful amusement at the memory.

''...And you lost your immortality? How do you know that?''

''I am pretty certain I did... I mean... Things went black shortly after I lost me head to that thing. But when I woke up it was beside this bugger's dead body... and I was hurting something horrible, petch, me neck still hurts so bad I can just barely turn my head... and I found the dumb rock that'd struck me and cocked me up proper like this...'', he gestured toward his face. In the last couple of days Ein had plenty of time to dig through his foggy memories of the night before he'd offed Rastmo, and plenty of time to conclude that the silver-sheen stone was indeed the source of his recent inability to properly die. ''... Had crumbled into dust. I gave myself a slice across the palm just to see if it'd heal.'', he rose his left hand, making the bloodied cloth bound about it a point of attention. ''So aye, along with the fact that I can bloody feel things again...'', he announced, rather cheerfully. Indeed, the absence of pain and fear and restraint did ultimately change him considerably, and looking back at what he'd commited in his brief time as an immortal... and at the lecture given to him by whatever entity it was that bestowed him with the immortal stone in the first place, he believed himself better off as men were meant to be. ''I am pretty certain a knife to the head will end me as it should at this point.'', frankly, from recent experience, Ein had learned that death was probably the least terrifying part of life... The pain that life guarantees is what was terrifying... yet the absence of that pain more so.

''...I still have a hard time believing you'd quite literally had your head taken off your body and yet stand so calm, peaceful and... happy now. It couldn't have been over two days since you fought that thing and died to it.''

''Aye, but then... It was hardly my first time dying, was it? Breaking down into a muttering imbecile after the first couple of times ought to be idiocy enough, eh?''

''On that we agree.'', the girl admitted with a laugh. ''So... in light of your renewed... mortality, I suppose you and I have business to do again?''

''That we do indeed. I'll be needing replacement for that suit of armor I left with you... oh, and this.'', Ein produced the lone, deformed and charred head of his poleaxe. The hammer end was missing, one hook of the axeblade was chipped with the rest of the blade bent, and the pike was all dulled, bent and chipped... and from the bottom reared but a foot long ounce of the thing's burned and splintered handle. ''I'll be needing a new one at this point, I figure.''

Hannah shook her head with a knowing smile. She didn't need to ask how he'd gotten the weapon so properly ruined.

And Einar never felt the need to share with her the fullness what truly occurred to him after he had slain the fiend whose head he carried and whose hide he'd already given to be fashioned to a new mantle. Not a word about Leth's revelation, the flute of silver starlight that he was left with after it, or the things that its music had awoken in him.

WC: 973

[Belugnir]

Fall 62nd, Late Afternoon:

"Ah, there you are.", Hannah was eagerly unpacking her latest shipment of supplies when Ein made his entrance, rather unremarkable this time around.

"Aye...", he murmured groggily. "You appear awful happy today."

"As should you!", Hannah scoffed. "I just got something for you."

"Oh... you do?"

She gave him a disappointed frown. "...What's with you? You been sleeping around like some lazy hound again?", the girl hardly took well to the man's apparent lack of enthusiasm.

"Aye..", he sighed. "Suppose it is to make up for all the times I should have been left sleeping for all eternity recently...", he gave a lazy shrug, limply rubbing the back of his neck.

"Alright now stop spreading your foul mood around like you spread the odor of a coinless vagabond and look here.", the girl protested, presenting a brand new poleaxe upon the stall... the thing was uncannily similar to his old weapon, only stemmed to a more polished handle and still besring the sheen of steel that had yet to mar or be marred.

This seemed to coax Ein's spirit some, for he took the thing into his hands with awe, marveling at the strange familiarity of the shape and length of the axeblade, the apparent sturdiness of the spiked hammer end, and the lethal straight line at which the steel pike that crowned the weapon narrowed toward its tip.
"Hannah this thing is amazing...How'd you manage to get one so alike..?"

"Ah. I had some sketches of your old axehead drafted when you first left it here some two months ago... Sent them down south to a smith to shape a new one with new, and I hope, sturdier steel.", pointedly did the woman's finger shake at the man.

"If you stumble back here sooner than a year is passed, whimpering for me to fix it for you...", she trailed off with a motherly frown... which she could only maintain for a broef while before laughing at the squinting gaze that Einar presented her with.

"I'll take good care of it. Honest.", he decided to scoff back, immitating the merry spirit that Hannah usually sought to maintain.

"I wouldn't trust you to keep care of a weapon if it were but an etching made inbetween your eyes. Not after all of that nonsense with your wolf."

Ein shook his head.
"Any chance you've got some armor in stock for me too?"

"Nay."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing right now... Good armor takes ways longer to make than your poleaxe... I could comission for a suit of plate armor for you. And I'm talking quality, better stuff than that shaky coat of plates you'd brought here...", she seemed to make a point of trailing her sentence off. She likely knew well enough that a sod like Ein could seldom afford something as expensive as full plate.

"...But you would need a favor or five from me in return, I figure?", Ein's memory of 'favors' granted to Ravokians was not the fairest thing in this world to say the least.

"Essentially. And don't look at me like I'm hiring you to nurder a newborn, love's sake. I just need you to help my boys run a few deliveries between here and the city."

Ein gave his new weapon fashioned of fine, sturdy Ash and cold steel a slight, firm shake realizing just how sturdy the axe head and its extentions were, and just how well the languet that kept them in place was fastened onto the handle.

"I'll think about it... But first, let's settle business we've already had. Sure, my new toy is a marvel, but I don't think it measures up to the haul I'd brought you from my... excursions."

Hannah gave a brief half smile and shook her head away.

''Would that all the weapons you brought in were half as well made as the thing I presented you... But you are right... now let's see...''

What followed was a good fifteen chimes of odd... almost endearing bickering, before Hannah agreed that the scrap armor and the haul of scavanged equipment Ein had brought her some time ago were well over thirty and some gold Mizas heavier than the repair services and the brand new weapon she'd secured for him... And so Ein came to leave the shop with a brand new weapon on his shoulder, a spare three dozen gold coins in his pocket, and plenty on his mind.


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