"I put the 'go' in 'golem'. That was humor. Other golems find that to be appropriately funny." ~ Blitzcrank, The Great Steam Golem
Blitz has some of the most evil sounding voice lines despite being one of the nicest lore characters. Also apologies for absolutely inting my writing pace, I've been reading other books.
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A day passed by.
Most of the nomads and traders arrived. And along with them, various tribes of the Freljord. The members from those tribes arrived in various manners. Some came in groups, some came with large beasts and on mounts and some came alone, carrying with them the necessary items to trade.
Gregori found one person interesting, the woman from the Winter's Claw. Fealja. Fealja was a small woman for a Freljordian. She had her brown hair pulled into a large braid going down to her hips. Her bare hands sported a lot of scars but her face was free of them. She didn't just come on a mount, she came on a Wildclaw. He wasn't fond of that creature, the large feline was a menace on the battlefield. Having an extra pair of legs, made it that much more deadlier. Even among the generally large Freljordians, the cat looked massive. The average size of an Elnuk. It wasn't an alpha. The only saving grace in this situation. Even if trained properly, alpha wildclaws were immensely strong and bloodthirsty. Bringing that kind of creature in this area seemed more like a declaration of war than intent to intimidate.
Those who brought the standard gray wolves looked like children in front of this beast.
Gregori put as much space between them as possible. Staying near this creature was tantamount to a death sentence. He had Daisy with him and was without his spear. Carrying that around would raise more suspicion than necessary.
THUMP
THUMP
THUMP
The ground shook. With a slow turn of his head, he spotted the cause of the noise. A large wooly mass hulked toward them. Its large body standing out in the frost covered lands. Its head moved rhythmically along with it, its large tusks moving side to side.
A Mammoth.
And something better.
A Mammoth Rider.
These people were respected throughout the Freljord. Raising a mammoth is no easy task. Yes. Raising. One cannot just train a mammoth in the wild. They have to be trained from young. Young enough where the rider can imprint on them like family.
Mammoths were a deterrent. It took most of a tribe's warriors to take down one. And despite the allure of its meat and fur, no one would go to war for it, unless, however, they were starving to death. That was the cause for most wars in these lands.
Instruments of war they may be, but their use far outstrips that. The tusks they shed years were used for medicinal purposes and as cups for the leaders of the tribe to drink from. The fur they shed were collected and used to make simple clothes. Not the best ones but good enough in a pinch. Getting animal hide and fur for an entire clan was difficult for even the most prosperous tribes.
And finally, the greatest use of all, mammoths were great beasts of burden. A single mammoth could carry entire settlements across the land.
He looked on in relative shock at the man on the mammoth as he slowly came into view.
"HEYYYYOOOOO!" His voice rang through. The man's hands waving in the air.
The man and his entrance hadn't just gotten his attention, it had gotten everyone's. It was to be expected, a man with that kind of energy on a mammoth? It was bound to attract the eyes of everyone.
A tap on his shoulder made Gregori whip around.
"That is Jorde. He is who you will follow back to Avarosa." Roark spoke from beside him. "And don't worry about Drugh there, it won't harm anyone.... unless asked to."
Roark waved off the look Gregori gave him.
Drugh the mammoth. Gregori had seen various creatures and monsters. He had been to almost every land on the continent after all. But large creatures were always breathtaking. Even one that could instantly kill you, it just brought into comparison the fragility of life and how small humans really were.
Absentmindedly patting his daughter, he walked to the side as Jorde arrived at the settlement. A crowd formed around the heavily cloaked man. All trying to talk to the newcomer. Even other Freljordians weren't an exception.
"Move." Came a harsh voice.
Gregori looked to its source, Fealja. She walked through as the crowd parted for her. She walked up to Jorde and waited for him to dismount the large beast.
The man did just that, squatting low as he landed on both feet. At that moment Gregori caught sight of his features. A strong jaw centered his face and his bright brown eyes were the main features of his face. He would be considered very handsome but the nasty scar that stretched from his face, starting from his nose to the top of his forehead took away from him.
He smiled as his eyes landed on Fealja, "Fealja! I missed you! How are ya lass?" He raised his hand toward her.
She looked at him, "Had to show me up did you?" She said as she grabbed his raised arm. He turned to look around and smiled once he spotted the Wildclaw.
"You brought that here? Tut tut." Jorde was not having any that.
His eyes scanned the crowd, until it landed on the person he was looking for, "ROARKKK! STAY RIGHT THERE!" He yelled and ran toward the old man.
Fealja looked at the back of the running man, shook her head and followed him.
Roark could barely speak before he was enveloped in a tight hug, possibly crushing his insides. Jorde towered over him and had easily lifted the older man off the ground.
"How are you old man? How is everyone? No deaths I hope." Jorde spoke in an upbeat manner.
Roark pushed him off and looked him up and down. He then reached up and patted Jorde's shoulders.
"I'm fine boy. Everyone is. How are you? How is the tribe?"
Jorde let out a loud laugh, " I'm great old man. The tribe is getting bigger, more people and more alliances. We found a guy who used True Ice to keep his cask of mead perfectly cold. A complete drunkard. Lived to drink. He was there when the tribe was in a sensitive diplomatic talks with another tribe and he ended the biggest brawl I had the pleasure to ever be in, with amazing ale. ALE! Can you believe that?"
Gregori had loosely been paying attention to the man and once he heard the words True Ice, he turned his attention toward him completely.
There it was. The elusive True Ice, the solution to the first of his problems.
But hearing about how it was being used..... that filled him with anger. Something as life saving as that, was used to chill ale? ALE?
To use it as a weapon, he could understand and accept. But ale? Maybe he could steal it off this man. At least he could have it be put to better use. At least he could use it to save his daughter.
ALE!
He was furious. But he kept it bottled up, hidden away. He softly stroked his daughter's hair and laid a kiss against her head. It brought the necessary calm back to him. A deep breath later he was completely in control again.
"He isn't there anymore. Wanted to travel the lands to find or create the best ale. Couldn't get dead drunk apparently. However, he said he would return when Ashe chose her Bloodsworn. How he would know the day I don't know, but that's his problem." Jorde kept speaking.
That was it? His first lead fell through like that? True Ice wasn't something one could just find lying about on a random day. He let out a deep sigh and released the breath he had been holding in. As he did, he made eye contact with Roark, who gave him a slight nod. One he reciprocated.
"Jorde... will you be willing to take a couple people with you back to the tribe this time?" He asked immediately. In most normal cases, he would wait till the tribespeople had settled in but he related to Gregori's plight. He felt and experienced the pain of losing family himself and watching Gregori suffer the same way hurt him and just to not see someone suffer the same way, he had decided to speak up.
Jorde tilted his head, confused, "Yes? Do you have stragglers? Either way the tribe is open for visitors, the competition is being held a week from now."
"We will have this conversation later... but for now, come.. come.. meet everyone." Roark ended the conversation and pushed the man toward the crowd around them.
Gregori walked back to the house they had occupied, not before giving Roark a soft thanks. One the man answered by giving him a small shake of the head and a pat on the back.
The entire exchange was witnessed by Fealja, who looked at Daisy questioningly. But didn't move to act on her thoughts.
Instead she turned around and walked back to the crowd.
The tribespeople and the others then started their bartering. Everyone got together, pulling out their produce and items and looked around at everything on offer.
Jorde brought his mammoth to Roark's nomadic group and items started changing hands. Most of what he took was milk and milk based items.
"Woah! That hits the spot!" He claimed as he took a swig of the milk. "So, then. How are you lot?"
He was then swarmed with replies.
Despite his intimidating size and scars, Jorde was loved by everyone. While Fealja had an intimidating factor to her, likely as defense to her smaller stature but that didn't stop her from being appreciated as a strong woman. You did need a certain level of skill to represent the Winter's Claw, as well as have a Wildclaw listen to you.
The nomads and traders prayed for anyone who came in the way of these tribespeople on the way to deliver these items back to their tribes. Even the most easy going ones were strong and no enemy could survive against them.
And as the Freljordians believed, the more the scars, the greater respect must be given.
Back at the home, Gregori laid his daughter down on the ground and picked up his shield. Walking around back, he started swinging it. Having the shield placed right above his wrist made it a good replacement for punching. The spiked ends of the shield driving home the point (Literally).
He practiced his old routines from the days as a member of the Gray Legion and from before. All while keeping an eye on the star glowing brightly in the morning sky.