A Call to Fate

Chapter 1 - Into the Barrowlands

Talani shouldered his backpack, followed by Tove's, followed by Reg's, followed by his various weapons, and satisfied they were in good condition, strapped those to himself as well. Half-giant that he was (or so his people were called) the weight wasn't a problem for him, and it was easier for him to carry three sets of gear than for most people to carry one, but even so he chafed slightly. Carrying Tove's bag was a point of pride for him, something he would not let her do. She was so small, and he owed her so much. Carrying Reg's kit was a different matter though, and something that he still wasn't quite sure how he'd been roped into doing. With their comparative physiques it made sense, but it still felt like he was somehow being scammed by this pompous wizard, who had surely been able to carry it all before they met. Still, it wasn't really worth arguing about, and keeping cohesion in an environment like this was the most important thing.

All of these preparations had been completed by Talani before most people had fully finished stirring, and admittedly he had taken maybe a bit too much pleasure in turfing Reg out of his bedroll so that he could pack it away in good time. Nothing wrong with getting up early though, and for all the usual grace that Reg possessed, he looked more like a startled cat when was roused, and his tail only added to the image. It was an odd bunch that had been gathered together here, but there had been no such thing as 'normal' for him in a while. The lot of them had been gathered together by a mysterious summons; he and Tove from the mountains, Alf and Gialli from Hæd, and Reg and Teclis from who knows where. How a letter had simply appeared at their mountain hut was a matter of some confusion, and this confusion was not really lessened when it was revealed that the mysterious stranger who brought them down to Halvalf was in fact Odin, in one of his mortal guises.

Talani had never been big on the gods before. His culture was one of fierce independence, and very few of the gods saw fit to make their presence known in that deeply inhospitable place. The ones who did were more to be placated than they were to be worshipped. That said, an instruction from Odin was not one to be taken lightly, but he had been maddeningly light on the details. The prospect of a journey into the Barrowlands had been raised so casually, but really this was not somewhere that any sane person should wish to find themselves, if they valued their lives. A strange tint of insanity lay over this whole affair though, so it should hardly have been surprising. As everyone else got ready, Talani turned once again to their surroundings.

The Barrowlands was a shockingly large part of the continent to be so roundly avoided. It was, as the name suggested, an area festooned with ancient barrows, the burial grounds of armies and heroes of the past, those who had fought and died in the great wars of the past, and were even now fighting still, blessed with eternal glorious battle and feasting on the fields and in the halls of Valhalla. Not all were so blessed however, and it was those, the left-behind, who made this area one so tormented. The area, being contained between the rivers Airgead and Mor, was hard to get in or out of, and it was generally thought that these rivers did a fine job of containing whatever it was that lurked in here.

The perpetual heavy fog also did nothing to help this area. It clung to every article of clothing, pooled in the shallow valleys between the low hills they walked through, and made trying to see further than your hand an exercise in futility. Lighting a fire at night only made the mists more oppressive as the light reflected and refracted off a million suspended droplets, creating an opaque veil from the inside, but which various creatures had been more than able to locate, as they had discovered. They no longer lit fires after that first night, although by now that was a moot point, with most of their tinder sodden, and even in the case of using magic to light fires, there was nothing substantial to burn anyway. In short, the area was miserable, and even the stark bleakness of the mountains had some variety to offer, beauty between the storms. Here there was just mist, and being perpetually damp.