[Haldor Firefury]
His head throbbed intensely as if it were about to explode, sending pulsating pain throughout his entire being. Shut eyes and a parched mouth became his unwelcome companions. The taste of stale alcohol clung to his tongue, as well as the strong taste of vomit, leaving a disgustingly bitter aftertaste. A sudden wave of nausea threatened to turn his insides out, making him wonder how he had come to this miserable state.
With a groan, he tried to sit up, only to find his body was stiff and sore. The events of the previous night floated in his mind like fragmented puzzle pieces, forming a hazy and confusing picture that left him with more questions than answers.
Haldor slowly opened his golden eyes, revealing an old, wooden ceiling above him, illuminated faintly by rays of sunlight that managed to seep through the small gaps in the barn's walls. Dust floated in the air, visible in the thin shafts of light pierced through the gloom. The cold air bit at his skin, reminding him of the unforgiving winter and making him long for a warm blanket, but all he could find was a pile of hay beneath him.
Awaking alone in this cold and damp barn was far from pleasant for Haldor. The heavy stench of manure and hay hung thick in the air, attacking his nostrils. His clothes clung to his body, sticky with sweat and dirt, adding to his discomfort.
Summoning his strength, Haldor struggled to rise to his feet. His legs trembled, and his muscles protested as if they had forgotten their purpose. His whole body was stiff, and his movements were clumsy and uncoordinated. He could barely stand upright as his muscles rebelled against him.
A wave of nausea washed over him a moment later, and he felt the contents of his stomach rising; everything twisted inside him, his body desperately tried to process that amount of alcohol he consumed last night. "Fucking hell," he cursed. Unable to contain himself any longer, he stumbled towards the nearest corner and emptied the contents of his stomach.
He vomited violently, his body convulsing with each heave. The disgusting sound of his retching echoed through the silence, ringing in his ears and making his head pound even more. Once his stomach had nothing left to give, Haldor leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. A pig that slept nearby woke up from his snoring and started eating the vomit.
Ignoring it, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Gathering the remnants of his strength, he made his way toward the barn door, squinting as his eyes struggled to adjust to the harsh sunlight. His movements were hesitant and rigid, as if he was learning to walk anew.
Stepping outside, he was greeted by the refreshing embrace of the crisp air as a cool breeze brushed against his bearded face. Taking a deep breath, he filled his lungs with the refreshing air. Gradually, the throbbing in his head began to subside a little, and the foggy haze lifted from his mind, allowing him to think clearly once more. "There's no way I'm ever drinking this much ever again," he muttered under his breath, only to chuckle a moment later. It wasn't the first time he had said this.
Squinting at his home in the distance, Haldor trudged toward it with each heavy step, his stomach still swirled with discomfort. However, the cool morning air and the gentle caress of a fresh and cool breeze helped him to ease some of his misery. "I'm home," he grumbled, pushing open the door to his house.
But instead of the usual warmth and coziness that welcomed him, he was met with a noticeable chill that hung in the air. The familiar comfort and warmth he had grown accustomed to was replaced by a biting cold that seemed to seep into his very bones. Brushing off the discomfort, Haldor continued to shuffle slowly toward the washroom, longing to cleanse himself of the lingering remnants of the previous night.
At last, he reached the barrel of water, his hands trembling as he dipped them into the icy water. Splashing his face, he let out a sharp hiss, the cold shivers traveling up his spine. Staring at his reflection in the murky water, an unkempt, messy-looking man looked back at him. Dark circles beneath his eyes spoke volumes about the exhaustion he felt.
Confusion washed over Haldor as memories of the previous night floated through his mind, unclear and indistinct. However, one thing he was certain of was that the evening had been one of a kind, just as a celebration of the birth of his son should be. Yet, the exact order of events eluded him.
After taking a few minutes to compose himself, he emerged from the washroom and headed towards his bedroom. His body ached, and his muscles screamed for rest. All he wanted was to feel the soft mattress beneath him right now. His heavy footsteps echoed through the silent house as he made his way towards his bedroom.
He couldn't help but wonder where his wife, Nivalis, might be. Usually, by this time, the mouthwatering aroma of something cooking would fill the air, a sure sign that Nivalis was busy preparing breakfast for him and their children. However, the absence of any noise or scent was odd. 'Probably still resting after childbirth,' he waved it off.
When Haldor opened the door to the master bedroom, he expected to find his wife resting in their bed with his son nearby. However, the scene that greeted him was anything but that. Shocked, he found the bedroom empty, drawers pulled open, and clothes scattered on the floor. His wife and son were nowhere to be seen. The shock of the scene froze Haldor in place, his heart pounding in his chest as his mind struggled to process it all. She was gone.
The frantic search followed shortly after, Haldor's voice calling out for Nivalis as he frantically rushed through every corner of the house. His heart hammered against his ribcage, not a trace of a hangover remained in his body. His voice echoed through the empty rooms, met only by an eerie silence that sent shivers down his spine.
'Where is she? Did someone kidnap her?' he thought, feeling a sickening sensation settle deep in the pit of his stomach. Sweat formed on his brow as his mind raced with questions. He searched the entire house, looking for any sign of struggle, but it didn't look like there was any. He had seen a lot of fights and struggles in his life, so he would know if it was.
However, he noticed that a significant amount of food was missing from the storage, as well as most of her clothing. It all left no doubt that she had run away. "What a fucking bitch," he muttered, rubbing his forehead, still not entirely believing what he was seeing.
He leaned against the wall as everything began to spin the moment the realization hit him in full force, and he felt the urge to vomit again. 'Where could she have gone?' he wondered, clenching his fists in frustration. "The tracks!" he suddenly exclaimed, a glimmer of hope shining through his voice. "I must find her tracks before the snow covers them!"
Without hesitation, Haldor burst out of the house, his eyes desperately scanning the ground for any traces of Nivalis' escape. And there, faint impressions in the snow, were the tracks left behind by the sled, most likely used to carry her supplies.
He followed it for a few minutes until it reached the forest's edge, where the trail continued east. In a moment of intense anger, he channeled his fury and slammed his fist with brute force into a nearby tree, his knuckles splitting open and bloodying.
Haldor unleashed a loud, primal scream as he continued to pound his fists into the tree, each strike fueled by the pent-up frustration and rage within him. In a few moments, what is left of a tree trunk is just a pile of splinters. His blood seeped into the pure white snow, painting it red as he fell to his knees, his body spent and exhausted. His breath formed a cloud of mist as he panted heavily, his chest heaving with exertion.
Taking a few deep breaths, he tried to calm himself and collect his thoughts. He knew it would be impossible to catch up to her if he remained here, crying and punching everything in sight. He needed to act quickly and rationally. So, Haldor rose to his feet and quickly brushed off the snow that clung to his pants. There was no time to waste; he had to find his damn woman and kids.
[Eirik]
Ten hours before the snowstorm's arrival, the pale sun's rays peeked over the horizon, casting a golden glow across the peaceful town that had not yet woken up. The sounds of rustling leaves and chirping birds were the only ones that could be heard in the early morning.
However, the peacefulness of the morning was suddenly shattered by an intense and persistent knocking on Eirik's door. The sound echoed through the house, jolting him awake from his deep slumber. With a groan, he rubbed his eyes, memories of the previous night's drinking escapades with Haldor flooding his mind. The sun's rays reached through the window, illuminating his face, causing him to grimace at the harsh light that assaulted his senses.
As the knocking grew more urgent, Eirik reluctantly roused himself from the comfort of his bed. His tousled jet-black hair fell messily around his face, and the rugged contours of his features still bore the signs of sleep. He stumbled towards the door, his bare feet making contact with the cold wooden floor, each step heavy and sluggish. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyes struggled to adjust to the light.
— "Alright, alright, I'm coming!" Eirik's voice rasped, rough and tired. Impatiently, he grabbed his robe, draping it around his naked and quite muscular body, his movements clumsy. "Who the fuck is knocking at my door this early in the morning?" he cursed, each new step towards the door making him feel his body protest.
With a heavy sigh, he flung open the door, his face contorted with irritation, ready to unleash his annoyance on whoever dared to disturb his slumber. However, his expression changed to surprise as his gaze fell upon the figure standing before him: Haldor. Dressed in leather armor, a sword strapped to his back, his previously unruly black hair, mirroring the wild spirit that burned within him, was now tightly tied back. And his golden eyes shone with a steely determination.
— "Haldor? What are you doing here?" Eirik asked, the cold air making him wrap his arms around his body to fight the chill. Haldor's sudden appearance at his doorstep was unexpected, especially dressed like that, and Eirik couldn't fathom the reason.
Haldor leaned closer, his face mere breaths away from Eirik's, his eyes blazing with anger and fury. Haldor's voice was harsh, each word escaping his lips with a menacing hiss. "That damn wife of mine, Nivalis. She took my son and ran," he growled, his teeth bared and his face twisted with rage.
— "Eh? Your son? When did it... Oh, right, we celebrated..." Eirik mumbled, his brows furrowing as he tried to process Haldor's words, the memory of celebrating the birth of his friend's firstborn son the previous night slowly returning to him. "How long ago?"
"Yesterday. Tracks are fresh, but not that much. She probably waited for me to leave and then packed everything," Haldor replied coldly, his eyes never leaving Eirik's.
Eirik's gaze narrowed, his mind racing. "Are you sure? Maybe they are just somewhere in the village, visiting someone..." Eirik suggested, his voice uncertain.
Haldor's gaze darkened, his expression twisting into one of frustration. "Of course, I'm fucking sure. They are gone! All clothing and food, too," he growled, his fists clenching at his sides, his tone leaving no room for doubt.
Rubbing his face, Eirik let out a long sigh. "So, what's your plan?" he asked, already suspecting the answer.
"It's not the first time she ran away, you know it. I'll find her, bring her back, and make her pay for all this shit," Haldor growled through gritted teeth, his voice trembling with barely contained anger. "Will you help me? We both know you owe me," he asked, staring deep into his eyes.
Eirik's throat tightened under his gaze. "Haldor... I... I'll help you. Of course," he finally uttered, swallowing hard. "II'll be damned if I didn't repay you for everything you did for me. Meet me near your house in half an hour. I'll bring a couple of people as well," the man added, scratching his thick beard. "Don't worry, we'll find her."
Haldor's expression softened, and he nodded. "Thank you, Eirik. I knew I could count on you," he said, his voice filled with gratitude and relief. With a final nod, Haldor turned on his heel and walked away. His leather boots crunched in the snow as he disappeared into the distance.
Eirik slammed the door shut, wincing as he realized he had forgotten to ask where they were going. "Fucking hell."
...
[Haldor Firefury]
Under the clear, blue sky and the warm glow of the sun, Haldor stood just outside his house, his keen gaze sweeping across his surroundings. The air was crisp and fresh, carrying the scent of pine trees and woodsmoke, typical of a village nestled this far in the north. People were already up and about, bustling with daily chores, their voices echoing through the settlement.
With a heavy backpack in hand, packed with carefully chosen provisions and survival gear, Haldor couldn't shake the overwhelming anxiety. His fingers fidgeted nervously with the strap, his mind filled with thoughts of his son growing up without a father, never knowing the love he had to give or worse, hating him, as Nivalis would surely speak nothing good of him. That thought sent a shudder through him, his hands tightening into fists. He couldn't let that happen.
"Haldor!" a familiar voice called, pulling him from his thoughts. He turned to see Eirik and six companions, all armed and prepared for whatever lay ahead. Now dressed in a warm, sturdy brown coat over a dark red shirt, Eirik confidently led them forward. He was a tall man with broad shoulders, a neatly trimmed beard, and a youthful, somewhat handsome face. "I've brought some help," he declared with a reassuring smile, gesturing towards the group.
Haldor greeted the group warmly, his eyes curiously scanning the familiar faces. He knew everyone well, having lived in this small village. Most men were seasoned hunters, skilled trackers, and capable warriors. By local standards, of course. However, two of the men were unfamiliar to him. Both were young, their appearance giving away that they were most likely adventurers of a lower rank, if not the lowest. The taller one, clearly an archer, stood with a bow slung across his back and a quiver of arrows. The other, likely a low-ranked cleric, carried a staff, though its humble quality suggested it was one of the cheapest.
Eirik introduced the strangers, smiling throughout. "This is Odar," he said, motioning to the archer, then shifted to the other. "And the other one is Argo. Both are adventurers, so I hired them to help us out. Luckily, they happened to be passing through our village. The rest you already know."
With a hint of gratitude, Haldor addressed the group. "Thank you all for your willingness to help me find my children. My wife took them and ran into the forest, so we are going after her. She's heading east, I found her tracks over there," he explained, motioning towards the forest. "Odar and Argo, a pleasure to meet both of you." Haldor smiled at the strangers. As for the rest, a single nod was enough to greet them. "My name is Haldor Firefury, by the way."
The archer stepped forward, his posture confident and relaxed. It was Odar, a man with a tall and broad-shouldered physique, who had short brown hair and deep-set green eyes. He wore a dark blue tunic underneath a protective leather vest. A copper earring adorned his left ear, its green gemstone catching the light. "You're welcome, Haldor," Odar responded, his voice confident. "I'm glad to be of service."
Next to step forward was the cleric, Argo. A youthful boy with a slender frame, pale skin, and untamed brown hair that fell in disarray, he was dressed in a worn white cloak and a grey scarf wrapped around his neck. His face was adorned with a pair of striking hazel eyes that seemed to penetrate the very depths of one's soul. Yet his posture and demeanor were somewhat humble and almost shy. "Same," he just said and went quiet.
— "I owe you both a great debt," Haldor admitted sincerely. "If there comes a time when you need anything, please do not hesitate to ask. Your help means more to me than words can express. The same goes for everyone here. I won't forget what you're doing for me," he added, looking at the other guys.
Each man nodded in agreement, words of support coming from some of them. "Alright, no time to waste. We need to go," Eirik finally said. "Lead the way, Haldor."
The group set off, their footsteps creating a rhythmic crunching sound in the snow. As they ventured forward, the wind grew stronger, howling through the trees and whipping at their faces. It tugged at their clothes as if trying to test their resolve, but they pressed on undeterred, their breaths forming clouds in the air.