Iron Gauntlets
Felewin and Ninefingers 2. Actually posted December 3, 2025 but backdated because it was done long ago.
Felewin & Ninefinges 1: The Haunted Graveyard —::— Felewin & Ninefinges 3: TThe Sanctuary Ruin
A Step Off The Road[1]
The dozen lean wolves chased them to the edge of the river. After Felewin and Ninefingers jumped in to the cold water, one or two actually put paws in the water, but they went no farther, because the river was fast and deep.
Felewin and Ninefingers saw the wolves for only a moment, because the current carried them down, toward the coast, toward the Black Forest. The river clutched at them and pulled, trying to duck them and drown them. It took most of Felewin’s strength to keep his head up. He was not numb yet but it was painfully cold and he knew numbness was coming. Ninefingers had been thrashing; he went down and did not surface again.
Felewin dived, trying to find the goblin’s scrawny body. Nothing; he dived again. Nothing. Had it been too long? How long was too long with goblins? He dived again. This time he brushed against something and grabbed it. He felt cloth, tried to look at it in the murky water, couldn’t, pulled it up.
It was Ninefingers.
It took all of Felewin’s strength to keep both of them afloat.
It wasn’t until much later that the river slowed, and they ended in a bend where Felewin could drag them both out.
#[2]
Felewin shook out his mail hauberk and set it in on the boulder, in the sun. He stored the hauberk in oiled cloth, but it was still wet and might rust. It needed to be dried and sanded and oiled.
Ninefingers was stretched on the field, naked but for a breechcloth. His greenish skin glistened from the river. His clothes were stretched out on the grass beside him, at waist-height for him: the grass was that tall.
The sun felt good on Felewin’s naked back as he sorted his belongings. The food had dissolved in water or turned into a gooey mass. He kept his sword near, in case there were things about.
Probably they were still the Black Forest. The river had taken them downstream. They were not at the coast yet; Felewin had only heard dim tales that there was a coast.
“Well, we didn’t get eaten by wolves,” Felewin said.
The goblin didn’t open his eyes. “But we lost all our food.”
“Pretty much. Cheese blob? Nowhere to keep it.”
“Thanks.” As Ninefingers chewed, he said around the cheese, “I set traps. Noose won’t hold more’n a bird or squirrel, but it might help.”
“You know, wolves don’t normally attack people,” Felewin said.
“Starving, by the looks of them. Maybe something else out-hunted them?”
#[3]
Felewin’s own breechclout was still damp, but the sun was going down, and it got cold at night. He went to the boulder to get his clothes—and saw that his mail hauberk was gone. He grabbed his sword and slowly got dressed. He checked behind the boulder. No, his clothes were there. The leather was stiff from the water, and he pounded it absently before putting it on.[4]
Ninefingers came out of the forest bearing a dead rabbit. “Behold the conquering hero! And it’s easy to skin!”
“Put your clothes on. Be ready.”
The goblin tilted his head, then draped the dead rabbit on a tuft of grass and dressed.
In a low voice he asked what was going on. Still scanning the area, Felewin told him.
“Griffin? They like shiny things. Like innards.”
“What gets me is that I didn’t notice the noise. That’s chain. It makes some sound.”
“That’s because we’re not noisy, like some people,” said a high, sibilant voice.
A group of small, reptilian humanoids stepped from the tall grass. The grass was nearly as tall as they were. They had spears: small knives bound to sticks. Felewin slowly sheathed his sword.
#[5]
“Lizard-people?” asked Ninefingers.
“Tiny lizard people?” corrected Felewin.
“Kobolds! We are kobolds!” said the one who had already spoken. Another kobold began to sing, but the first one silenced him with a gesture. “And we won’t be pushed around anymore.” A kobold shook the sharp end of his spear in Felewin’s face.
“We weren’t pushing,” said Felewin.
“Coming right to the edge of our city, taking our food supply…you were pushing.” He paused a moment, waiting for a response. Felewin made none. “Very well. The mail was simply a rental fee. For the use of our fine field.” He looked at the rabbit. “And we’ll have to charge for the coney, too.”
“We’re lost,” said Felewin.
“Oh, a finder’s fee!” said one of the kobolds—perhaps the one who had started singing. Felewin couldn’t tell them apart, except the lead kobold wore a badge and a slightly different jerkin. “We found you!”
“Let me handle this,” said Ninefingers, “because it looks like everything you say will lead to a fee.”
Felewin said to Ninefingers in a quiet voice, “I have a few silver if they’ll take that instead of my mail.”
Ninefingers said, “Shhh! They’ll take that as well as your mail.”
“Are you his servant? Because there’s a servant fee,” said the lead kobold.
“I’m not his servant. I’m his—” What was a good word for what he was? “His companion.”
“Companion fee! Companion fee!” shouted one of the other kobolds.
Felewin said to Ninefingers, “You’re related to them. Surely you can make them see light.”
“First of all, no, I’ve never seen them before. Second, you’re more closely related to every stinking human on the continent. Can you make them all see the same thing?”
“Hey!” said the lead kobold. “No big words!”
“Big word fee! Big word fee!” The excitable kobold jumped up and down until a fellow kobold hit him on the head.
“Can we see your boss or leader?” asked Ninefingers.
“He’s too busy to see you!”
“We’ll wait,” said Felewin. Ninefingers looked at him. “Sometimes people would wait for days to see my father, and he was just hearing cases.”
The kobold nodded. “You’ll have to hand over your sword.” Felewin looked at him. The kobold said, “No fee this time.”
“Unless the kobold holding it charges you a holding fee,” added another kobold helpfully.
The pair gathered their things. A kobold took the rabbit. Another tried to take Felewin’s sword—he refused to relinquish it.
Ninefingers handed over his dagger. “You know, in an Aprak nest, disputes are resolved immediately. That’s why we sound so sad in the human world.”
“That’s the reason?”
“It could be that I’m just not jolly,” admitted Ninefingers.
#
“Behold!” squeaked the lead kobold, as they stood in the woods.
Three shacks sat in a clearing. They were in use, but they had obviously not been maintained in years. The grass was high around them, and the trees loomed at the edge of the clearing.
“A company of adventurers?” A splash of paint marked a sunrise on the side of one building. “That looks kind of like the emblem of the Golden Helm Society.”
“Loggers,” said Ninefingers. “They were going to tame the great woods. Came to our nest looking for orclins to do brute force work.”
Felewin squinted. It didn’t really look like a golden helm. “It didn’t work out?”
“No, we don’t associate with orclins. They’re animals.”
“I meant the logging—
A stick hit Felewin in the middle of his back. “Stop talking! Behold the wonder that is...” He chirped, then chirruped, then squeaked.
“Pardon?” asked Felewin.
“In your tongue...Koboldia!”
“Where?”
“The buildings!”
“It’s glorious,” Ninefingers assured him. “Can we go now?”
“I need my mail,” said Felewin. “I can’t afford to buy a replacement.”
#[6]
A cloud passed over the sun. Felewin glanced up—the sky had been clear today, until now.
Great wings blocked the light. They stood in the shadow of a bird so huge, it blocked the sun.
Not a bird. Felewin saw the trailing legs and the leading forepaws. A griffin, perhaps? And it blocked the sun because it was low—it skimmed the tree-tops and dropped into the clearing. It was as large as a boar, perhaps, but the wings were huge, reaching as far as four men across.
No, not a griffin: it had no beak. The face was more feline. Definitely fanged.
The thing grabbed a kobold by the scruff of the neck, shook it violently, and swallowed him in two gulps. The beast was standing by the entrance to one building, and another kobold disappeared down its gullet.[7]
Without thinking, Felewin drew his sword and began running across the clearing. He had to distract the beast. With luck, it wasn’t poisonous or didn’t breathe fire or emit dangerous fumes—
His sword bit into the thing’s haunch, right beside the tail of a bird. His sword hit something—bone?—and stuck there.
#[8]
That hurt made the beast drop the kobold in its mouth and turn to Felewin to swipe at him with a massive paw. The claws whistled as they passed him. Felewin yanked at his sword to no effect, and the thing flew off.
Felewin screamed in frustration. “It has my sword!” He balled his hands into fists and no kobold dared go near him. “Now I have nothing! Nothing!”
Ninefingers said, “But you’re still alive.”
“Yes, but—”
“Would you rather be dead and have your sword, or alive and without?”
Felewin relaxed his hands. “You’re right. Alive.” He shook out his arms. The kobolds were all staring. “Shall we go?”
According to the kobolds, the smallest shack was the royal shack. “It has a door that works,” confided the lead kobold. Before they went in, Felewin asked him his name. He clacked his jaw and made a hissing sound. “Pok-hiss?” asked Felewin.
“You’re not getting the tones right.” The kobold repeated it.
“He can’t hear them,” said Ninefingers. “He’s just a human.”
“Oh,” said Pok-hiss, who reached up to the handle, unlatched the door, and entered. The door stopped about a hand’s-width from the jamb, so each kobold went in easily, Ninefingers with only a little difficulty, and Felewin looked at the door in disgust. He kicked the soil, trying to open the door farther, then managed to get it open wide enough to squeeze in.
The room smelled of kobold, a musky reptilian smell. Felewin blinked in the semi-darkness. The floor was covered with leaves and scraps of cloth, arranged into sloppy nests. Most of the nests were occupied; the occupants were by decoration kobold females. That was the only way Felewin could detect the difference in sex.
“The king has a harem?” he asked Ninefingers in a low voice.
Ninefingers shook his head. “No, he’s the protector until they lay their eggs.”
Something poked Felewin in the thigh, and he stepped forward, almost stepping in a nest with every step. He felt large and awkward in this room. Finally, he reached the counter, where a brawny kobold sat, almost as wide as Ninefingers.
“Kneel!”
Ninefingers knelt. Felewin said, “If I kneel, I’ll hurt someone.” He did bow his head.
The brawny kobold said, “Oh. You may stand.”
“This is King—” Pok-hiss chirped three times, each chirp slightly different. “But human, you can call him Totinkin.” He looked firmly at Ninefingers. “But you have to get it right.”
Felewin saw Ninefingers roll his eyes.
“Do not speak until I speak,” said the king. Felewin nodded. “Not even nodding.” His voice was deeper than that of any other kobold they had met, which meant it was a medium-high-pitched squeak.
“We are honored to meet you, your Highness,” said Felewin.
“No speaking until I speak.”
“But you spoke,” said Felewin reasonably. At his side, Ninefingers sighed.
“I wasn’t speaking as the king then, and I’m not now, I’m speaking to help you. When I speak as the king, you’ll know, by the extra rich sound of my voice,” said the king.
“Sorry,” said Felewin.
“No, no speaking yet.” He cleared his throat. “We wonder what your intentions are, in the fair land of Koboldia.”
Felewin remained silent. Ninefingers hit him on the hip. Felewin shook his head.
“That was my extra rich voice,” said the king. “You can talk now.”
“Oh.”
“He can’t hear the extra tones,” said Ninefingers helpfully. “Humans. You know.”
Felewin scowled at Ninefingers. “O king, we are strangers in your land, and came upon it by accident. We were escaping wolves—”
“Hungry wolves.”
“—and ended up here.”
“You have our permission to stay.”
“Your fees have left us quite bereft of funds,” said Ninefingers. The king stared at him. “We have no money left.”
The king thought about this. Finally, he said, “Then you must perform a service for us.”
“He already opened the door,” said Pok-hiss, unable to contain his excitement any longer.
The king thought about this. “Then you may have one fee given back.”
“My hauberk, please.” Ninefingers covered his face with his hand.
“But your hauberk is worth the staying on the land fee and the protection from beasts fee.”
“I’m the one who scared it away.”
“You did? You scared it away?” He turned to Pok-hiss. “Is this true?”
Pok-hiss switched to kobold-speak, and hisses, chirps, and squeaks filled the space between them. Finally the king turned to them and said, “Get rid of the monster, and all debts are canceled.”
“Including time needed for healing afterward?” asked Ninefingers.
“Yes,” said the king.
“And room and lodging until the monster leaves?”
“Yes,” said the king.
“And a new sword?” asked Felewin.
“No,” said the king. “We are a new nation. We need our swords.”
Pok-hiss said, “We don’t really have swords.”
Felewin sighed. “All right. I swear.”
#[10]
Having obtained the king’s permission to camp outside, they sat around the fire eating the squirrel from Ninefingers’ other snare. “The problem is going to be killing it with no weapons,” said Felewin. “I have nothing but a knife. I suppose I could make spears…” He licked juices from his fingers. “Any more?”
“None. And I had no luck finding plants.”
“The beast is too big to get in the forest, so it must be hunting clearings—but I can’t imagine there are enough clearings. Not this near a river.”
“Logging,” said Ninefingers. “They opened it up.”[11]
A squeak sounded to one side. Ninefingers saw a female kobold standing by the edge of the light, by a tree. Felewin said, “We won’t hurt you.”
Without moving, she said, “Thank you. You saved lover.” Even though it was in the common tongue, most was inaudible to Felewin. Ninefingers translated.
The two of them talked while Felewin watched, with Ninefingers asking many questions, and the kobold struggling to answer in the common tongue. Finally, the kobold slipped away.
Ninefingers chortled happily. “Found a grave, I think. And the Corrough bury with weapons.”
Felewin started to rise. “Let’s go!”
“I’ll go. We need it by tomorrow, so speed is important. I can see in the dark and you can’t. I don’t want to be responsible for you when you’re walking into trees and tripping over roots.”
“But it’s a tomb!”
“I started in grave-robbing. It’s a cairn. Worst I can see will be a ghost, and I know how to handle those.”
Felewin sank down. “All right. If you insist. I can wrestle a wight for you, though.”
“No, but—thanks.”
#[12]
Ninefingers checked the stars again. Yes. He was going in the right direction. There. A pile of rocks, surrounded by a ring of mushrooms.
Ninefingers looked at the mushrooms. They were almost never a gate to the fey lands, but.... He threw a stone into the ring, without hitting the cairn.
Nothing happened.
There were traps that were only activated by a living being, but he had no cat or mole to throw in. He took a deep breath and stepped over the ring.
Again, nothing happened.
He looked at the quarter moon. It was a third of the way up the sky, so he had some time. He wished he had a pry bar, but the rocks didn’t look too large: most of them were smaller than his head. He had not wanted Felewin along for all the reasons he said, and one more: he didn’t intend to replace the rocks afterward.
He was shaking. Okay, I’m nervous.
Ninefingers began to dig. Hours later, nearly at the body, he began to feel the tingle in his skin that often heralded the approach of some tomb guardian. He swore, and loosened his dagger, and kept throwing rocks.
He deliberately didn’t unveil the body’s head or arms or legs: if the body were possessed by some guardian spirit, he didn’t need it to grab him. In a cairn, swords were normally placed at the side of the deceased, for a lesser warrior, or on the chest, for a greater fighter. In this case, he was betting on the side: although they might not have known about the river, he figured a significant fighter would have been burned. He wanted the sword, not the guardian.
There was no sword at its side. Was the deceased left-handed? Ninefingers scraped stones back in place, then scampered to the other side and dug there, testing with one hand before he exposed more.
Nothing. Check the chest, then. Perhaps he had been buried without a sword, or he had an axe, or a bow—could Felewin even use a bow? Ninefingers had never seen him.
No: there was the sword, a long sword with a cruciform guard on the chest of the dead person. From the clothes, the deceased had been a woman. The sword was rusty only in spots—she must not have died that long ago, or it would be rusted all over. The sword was not exceptional, and would not have fetched an extravagant price. It was only unusual in being long. But—from what he saw of her—she had been tall.
He grabbed the sword by its rope-wrapped hilt, and felt that it was slick with mold. He pulled the sword free; it was almost as tall as he was. And then he heard a murmur. He wasn’t sure what it was, and he looked around. The river? But the trees in the way kept you from hearing the river: the noise drowned in wind among their leaves. There was no scabbard; or if there was, he wasn’t going to look for it. He still felt the tingle, but there was no guardian that he could see.
Just nerves.
He took a length of twine and tied the sword so he could carry it back.
An owl hooted, and he jerked in sudden surprise. Okay. I’m scared.
And then he ran.
#[13]
Felewin had most of the rust off. The blade was discolored with it, patches of it along the blade, filling the odd grooves the sword had. He had done his best to clean off the hilt, though if he had string he would re-wrap it. While his mentor might not have approved of the job, Felewin knew what he had started with, and the sword held an edge. Ninefingers had caught another squirrel and managed to find some insects. Felewin’s stomach growled. He hadn’t eaten much yesterday, and this squirrel had to be split between them. Finally, he was ready. He took the sword in hand and started by swinging it.
“It’s longer than mine. Corrough, isn’t it?” He tried swinging again. He could feel the extra weight in his shoulders. The blade moved slower than he liked, too. And the tip wasn’t sharp enough. He guessed the Corrough style didn’t involve a lot of thrusting. He didn’t mention it, though. Ninefingers had done a nice thing, thinking of a replacement.
Felewin lifted the tip of the sword and tried thrusting, then stopped. “Did you hear that?”
“The kobolds? Now that I know what to listen for, I can’t not hear them.”
“No. A woman.” He frowned. “Maybe in distress.” Then he laughed. “Oh, it’s the sword. It’s supposed to make a whistling sound when you whip it overhead. You don’t get all of it because of the rust.”
“Just what we need.” Ninefingers wrested a piece of savory meat off the squirrel. “You know what this needs?”
“Six more the same size?”
“Yes, but I meant salt. Some herbs. Maybe some carrots.”
Felewin sat down cross-legged. “I’ll have my half before you’ve imagined a feast and made me hungrier.”
They ate in silence, drawing the meal out as much as they could. Too soon they were done. “Well,” said Ninefingers, “that’s breakfast. Do you have a plan for the birdcat-thing?”
“Kill it.” said Felewin.
“Your cause is just, so you will have the strength of five,” said Ninefingers sarcastically. “You have to get to it first. How are you going to do that?”
“I was thinking of a poisoned lamb or goat or something staked in the clearing there. And then, while it’s busy, kill it. And we haven’t got poison or a goat. What does that thing feed on?”
“Kobolds.”
“I don’t think they’d be okay with us staking a couple of kobolds in a clearing.” Felewin said thoughtfully, “You could do it, though.” Ninefingers stared at him. “You wouldn’t even need to be staked. It comes in for a landing and then you run like stink.”
“No, I’d have to stick around to keep its attention while you fight it. And the second you get hit by those wings, it’s over.”
“Boulders. There’s a gully between hills that I crossed last night. When it comes in for the attack, you roll a boulder down in it and pin it. Then it doesn’t leave and you can finish it off.”
“That doesn’t seem really sporting.” Felewin held up a hand. “I know, it’s not sport. And it has a huge wingspan.” He took his last bite of squirrel and then said, “Do you know anything about rocks and rockslides?”
“You do have to know whether the crypt you’re going to enter is safe.”
#[14]
A sound woke Felewin. A rainstorm in the distance? He didn’t want to go under the trees with the bugs, but if it was raining, he didn’t want to get wet. He lay still, listening.
“—ust die. It must die.” A woman’s voice, heavily accented. He grabbed the hilt of the sword—
—and she was there, before him. Tall, muscular, plain. “You must kill it,” she said. She had a Corrough accent.
“The winged beast?”
“Yes. It killed me when I fought it.” Ninefingers stirred, so Felewin got up and walked into the woods, keeping an eye on landmarks. He did not want to get lost, but he did not want the sound to bother Ninefingers either. She followed him, walking even though she didn’t touch the ground. When they stopped, he could almost imagine she was really there, and it was just the moonlight and the dappling of trees that made her seem insubstantial.
“Here. The wings hit you?”
“No—poison. There is a gland in its mouth—poison killed me. Instantly.”
“And now you seek justice.”
She nodded. “There were so many things I wanted to do. Right wrongs, marry, have children....”
He smiled. “That sounds like my plan for my life.”
“I’m sorry we never met. I am—I was—Glendaras of the clan Olerrough.”
“Felewin. Not a member of a clan or house.”
“How many children do you want?”
“As many as I can have—but I need a title first.”
“I needed honor...but there is no honor in an unmarked grave.”
“Your sword is long but well-maintained.”
“I am tall. It saw much use.”
“I am used to a small sword. Two edged, yes, but also for thrusting.”
She laughed. “A small sword is a knife! A real man uses a sword that can take a hand and a half.”
“I’m worried. We have not enough food, so we must find the beast and kill it in a day or three. I have a strange beast, little help, an unfamiliar sword...”
“If you let me...I can possess your body. You would at least have the advantage of someone who knows the sword and has fought the beast. And I have fought the thing many times in my imagination.”
“My fight is mine alone.”
“Of course. So long as my sword is involved in its death, honor will be satisfied.” She leaned forward. “You are very much like the husband I imagined having. Tell me of the wife you foresee...”
#[15]
The next day, Felewin went to the proposed trap site without mentioning Glendaras to Ninefingers. He started the day tired: he and Glendaras had talked until late about—well, about the beast, certainly, but about everything else.
By nightfall, the rocks were in place and Felewin felt more confident with the sword, but not enough: it was twice as long as the one he was used to.
The snares, however, were empty. Ninefingers had found some bitter roots, and they chewed those slowly.
A kobold stood in the twilight at the edge of the clearing. “Why are you still here? Why does that beast still live?”
“And hello to you, Pok-hiss,” said Ninefingers. “We’re fine, thank you for not asking.”
“There’s a fee for staying without killing.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Felewin said. “We’re—”
“Ah,” Ninefingers said over him. “We have to charge you the rock-movement fee. How much is the staying without killing fee?”
“Depends,” said Pok-hiss. “How much is the rock-movement fee?”
#[16]
I would rather have a lamb, thought Felewin, as Ninefingers tried to prance in the clearing. Ninefingers does not look appetizing.
In fact, Ninefingers looked awkward and mostly naked. This time, he had affected a limp. In the beginning, Ninefingers had spoken—“Oh, I am lame!”—but had given that up as he tired.
Pok-hiss said that the beast fed mostly at twilight, but that might have been because that’s when the kobolds were out. Glendaras said it also fed at noon: something that big had to feed often. So they were trying to entice it at dawn, noon, and dusk. This was noon, and it was a merciless hot noon, away from the cooling breezes of the river. Felewin was sweating in his leather and mail.
Felewin yawned, and in that time Ninefingers disappeared and the beast appeared. He pulled the rope and it broke. He swore. Below he could hear the low drumbeats of wings and Ninefinger’s cries. He moved to the side of the pile and grabbed the stick that the rope was attached to, and yanked, then pulled his arm away.
The rocks rolled down the hillside with a satisfying roar. Even the beast had to notice that, and Felewin ran behind them, at one point outpacing some rocks. It spread its wings to fly away—
Ah. The rocks pinned one wing of the beast. Felewin drew the sword, because the beast was tugging and he had to disable the other wing. He stepped up to hit the thing’s wing, his sword hit nicely—but too near the hilt. He was standing too close.
Could have told you, said Glendaras in his mind.
He tugged hard—the sword had bit into the creature’s flesh—and now he had its attention. It swiped at him with one large paw, and he managed to dodge, but almost lost the sword. From the corner of his eye he could see Ninefingers had already made the trees.
A yank—and the paw hit him hard, like those falling boulders.[17] The mail protected him from the claws, but the blow knocked the breath from him. He hit the ground, hard, his hand numb around the sword. The thing was strong, like a bear but worse.[18]
He struggled to his feet. The moss gave him a good grip. The thing would have attacked him but the rockfall held it back. He waited a few seconds while he got his breath and then waded closer again. The thing mewled piteously, like a cat.
Too close! cried Glendaras.
The big sword sank into the thing’s shoulder, right where the wing joined its back. He grunted as he pulled it free. When he was standing this close, he didn’t get the clean slash he should have. He counted too much on the sharp point to graze the target, and that wasn’t happening with this sword. He staggered back.
The thing pulled hard on its wing. Stones grumbled and then it was loose. It tried to take off with a powerful leap—and fell to the ground. Felewin limped to the trees. A pain-maddened creature was twice the threat.
The creature tried to follow him, but Felewin had chosen this spot carefully. It snapped at him and it spittle sprayed him—but it did not latch on to him. A wild swing of its paw slashed his leg but the leather took most of the damage.
Now.[19]
Felewin swung hard, hoping to crush its head. The sword sank into its skull. The thing collapsed. Felewin aimed carefully for a moment. It started to rise again—
Felewin gathered his strength for a stroke that took all his strength and more, that left him dizzy and staggering. Felewin cut off its head.
See? he told his invisible spectator.
Very nice. Except—
He could hear Ninefingers clapping. And then a shadow passed over the clearing.
That’s too small to be the one I fought, Glendaras told him.
He looked up to see the big one landing.
#[20]
Felewin stood motionless as the huge beast walked to the corpse of the other, smaller beast, and then sat and keened. Felewin wished he were hidden; all he could do is stand still, and he was so tired that he felt he was going to fall over.
Still, he mustn’t move. That’s what he told himself.
Yowling, the beast lunged forward. Felewin jumped backward, and if the beast hadn’t seen him then, it did now. He didn’t see Ninefingers around. Good. Get to cover.
For now, the trees were keeping it at bay, and Felewin asked himself if he should even fight it. After all, he had only agreed to kill one monster for the kobolds. The beast backed up and charged again from a different angle. Saplings bent under the force of its—her?—charge and one massive paw grazed Felewin. He managed to bat her away with the blade.
No: the spirit of the agreement was that he would free them from beasts. That was the knightly thing to do.
He took a deep breath and charged. His first hit, while the beast was looking at something (Ninefingers?) was a good one, hitting the beast along one wing. He heard bones crack and smelled the salty blood of the beast. He even managed to avoid the bite, though he was spattered with venom and spittle from the thing.
But then the sword got tangled up in feathers and the flailing wing caught him on the arm, numbing it and knocking him down.
#[21]
Get your sword up! screamed Glendaras[22] in his head.
He got it up in time for a paw to hit mostly the sword but also him, knocking him across the clearing. The shock of landing was so great that he thought he was going to pass out and all he could smell and taste was moss. He was stunned: nothing was working but his mind. He was sure he was going to die.
The beast started to come after him, and there was a distant yelling.
Ninefingers.
The goblin had come out of hiding to dance at the edge of the clearing. The beast glanced at Felewin, who wasn’t moving, folded one wing along its back—the other started to fold but trailed on the ground—and charged the goblin.
Felewin heard the splintering of trees as he tried to breathe, as he tried to move his arms. Even his fingers would be a help.
He managed to get to his feet, using the sword as a cane. Then he used both hands to grip the handle. Get the blade up!
He managed to get the blade up into something resembling a ready position, though his pose was sloppy as a beginner’s. It moved in, fast, and he folded, and went with the leg it used. He rolled on the rock and moss. His eye seemed stuck shut; he touched it with one finger and it came away bloody.
He knew, then. He couldn’t fight this thing.
It was a sad realization, but a true one. With his own sword, maybe. With a month’s practice with this sword, perhaps. But now?
Please, Glendaras. Take this body. Finish the monster.
#
She stepped in, and slowly stood up. Glendaras/Felewin whirled the sword over his head until it whistled, a sound as eerie as a graveyard at night. The beast dove, and he danced away from it as though he had never been hurt. With a scream, he attacked the monster.
#[23]
Ninefingers watched in amazement. Before, Felewin had been tentative and uncertain, but not now. Now he was confident and sure of himself. The trick with whirling the blade? He hadn’t been able to do that before. And Ninefingers was pretty that the scream had been in another language.
Maybe one that Felewin didn’t know.
Ninefingers thought, Suppose I did hear something when I grabbed the sword. Perhaps there was a guardian, the one that I felt. And suppose that it’s the one fighting.
He watched. Felewin had just cut the thing’s leg, hamstringing it. He seemed to be doing okay against it: both were hurt—it hit him again, but both of them were fighting cautiously now.
And, if it is something possessing him, do I want to do anything until the beast is dead?
And, because the answer to that was no, he made sure he was safe, ignored the mosquitoes, and settled in to watch.
#[24]
The thing died, its belly slit open. The stench of open entrails was in the air, and Ninefingers ran forward, slipping on the gore. Felewin, bleeding and broken, stood at the edge of the clearing and gave no sign of recognizing Ninefingers. Then Felewin began to plod, dragging the sword in his hand.
“Felewin?” asked Ninefingers.
The man gave no answer. He walked away.
Toward the river.
#
We’re done, thought Felewin. What are you doing?
Your wounds are grievous, Glendaras told him.
Then I should lie down and rest.
I can take care of you, she told him. Let me wash your hurts.
The body is mine, he protested. They reached the end of the clearing.
Felewin struggled to control his body. He had slowed it to a dull plod but could not take control.
We will be together, Felewin. Death is a lonely time, out here in the wilderness, without someone to say proper rites. We can reside together in the sword.
Felewin insisted, I won’t die.
Felewin sensed Ninefingers near him, tugging, trying to get an arm. He tasted dirt as Ninefingers tripped him. His body began to crawl to the water.
Felewin tried to find some way to grapple with her control.
#
The drone of insects in the summer afternoon was broken only by the scraping of Felewin’s knees on the forest floor and by his harsh breathing, hard as if he’d just run the length of the continent. Ninefingers waved a hand in front of his face. No reaction; Felewin still saw nothing.
He tried, first, redirect Felewin. He was not strong enough to pick the man up and set him in another direction, but he could place obstacles in his way—bushes torn from the ground, for instance.
Felewin went through them.
It was too far to the snares to get any twine to bind him; he needed something local.
Next Ninefingers tried poison creeper, which grew in loose loops in some of the undergrowth. Rashes broke out on Felewin’s skin but he did not stop crawling to scratch at the itch.
He yelled for the kobolds to come. He didn’t know exactly what they could do, but any help—
Pok-hiss popped up. “There is a calling fee.”
“Felewin—he’s possessed. Stop him!”
Pok-hiss drove his spear into Felewin’s boot, by the toe. The leg tugged…and they watched as the spear came out, breaking the shaft because the point was caught in the ground. Blood began to seep from the sole of Felewin’s boot.
Ninefingers hugged the man’s sweaty and bloody thigh and tried to hold it back. No; Felewin was inexorable. One might as well try to stop the river from flowing. “This is what zombies are like,” Ninefingers told Pok-hiss.
The water was only a few paces away, now.
Frantic, Ninefingers stood on the blade of the sword that Felewin was still dragging,[25] and tried to push on his shoulder. It was like trying to stop a horse—but it got a reaction. Felewin, or the thing that controlled him, lifted the sword, dumping him off, and hacked at him. Ninefingers was so surprised that he didn’t roll with the blow until almost too late.
Felewin slowly stood. “Keep him busy,” said Ninefingers to Pok-hiss. “I’m going to get the sword.”
The kobold nodded. “Will that work?”
“I don’t know, but it has to. I can’t swim.”
Pok-hiss grabbed his spear’s two pieces and hit Felewin hard across the knee. Felewin tumbled again, and started dragging himself to the river.
Ninefingers muttered, “Sorry,” and stomped on Felewin’s wrist. It would take too long to cut off his hand. The fingers twitched but did not open. If it were slick, wet— thought Ninefingers, and he looked at the river.
Ninefingers could smell the water, now. He had to get Felewin’s arms wet. He was going to have to get wet.
“Keep him on the ground. I want him to crawl into the water,” he told Pok-hiss. Pok-hiss smiled and with enthusiasm brought the broken stick of his spear across Felewin’s back, bringing the man down.
Still Felewin kept going. The sword blade was in the water now. The cruciform hilt was still in his hand. “Keep him down without hurting him.”
“How?”
“You know what I mean. Don’t pierce him.” Pok-hiss kicked the inside of the man’s elbow. Two more movements. One more.
There!
He dug his fingers into the muck and got them around the guard. He pulled. Felewin pulled back, and he was much stronger than Ninefingers. The sword was almost wrenched free from Ninefingers, when the goblin pushed it and twisted it and then, at the bottom of the push, pulled it up, making a hook shape.
It pulled free. Ninefingers had the impression of a woman screaming, and he threw the sword into the water. It did not fall far from Felewin, only a few paces, but Felewin fell as if he had been the one struggling. His face was nose-deep in the cold water, and Ninefingers struggled to pull him free, with Pok-hiss yanking at one foot.
Not now, thought Ninefingers. Not when he isn’t possessed any more.
He wedged his torso under Felewin’s head, lifted it out of the water. Muddy water streamed out of Felewin’s nose and mouth. Ninefingers stopped then. He had no more strength; fighting Felewin had taken the last of it, and Felewin was too heavy.
He stood there trembling, an Atlas with the weight of the world on his shoulders, unable to move, unwilling to give up.
“I don’t think this situation is covered by the previous agreement with the king,” said Pok-hiss. “How much would you pay if I could get Felewin out?”
“Three silver pieces.” Ninefingers didn’t know how much longer he could do this. The water looked very inviting—
“Five.”
“I only have three. Two copper as well.”
Pok-hiss appeared to think it over while Ninefingers trembled. “A deal.” He chirped and a dozen kobolds appeared and dragged Felewin free.
“I think the deal with the king takes care of the usual lying on the shore fee,” said Pok-hiss ruefully.
Ninefingers staggered to the shore. “It does,” he said, and fell down.
#
When Felewin awoke, he hobbled over to the smaller beast and retrieved his sword, still stuck in the thing’s rump. Half of the meat had been removed, and ants swarmed over the rest. The kobolds invited them to the feast, and finally Felewin was full: there were two beasts’ worth of meat to eat. For a fee, they showed the old logging path that had led to the buildings.
Felewin tried several times to get Ninefingers to talk about what had happened, but he would not. Once they were on their way, far from the kobolds, Ninefingers cleared his throat. He told Felewin what had happened, and Felewin told Ninefingers what he had done.
“Thank Vult you were fighting her,” Ninefingers said. “It’s the only way I won. At the end there I had no strength left. Finally I paid them three silver pieces and two coppers to pull you free.”
“That’s all right. I had five silver pieces left and I would have paid it all.”
“Yes, but I didn’t want them to know that. I made a better deal!”
Monsters
Both kobolds and griffins are in the Iron Gauntlets expanded edition. For ghost possession, I assumed it was Fabrica Mentus/Union, mechanically.
Game Mechanics
[1] Adventure setup: This time I’m going to stretch the Mythic system. The duo are on the road when something happens. That’s the setup. Chaos 7, and we’ll see what that does. If I need to, I’ll use the Lady’s Honor adventure from the Iron Gauntlets rulebook, but we’ll see.Scene start: Altered (7). Well, I figured it would be. We’ll deliberately start with an event. Context—they’re on the road, travelling. Event is PC Negative, trick, adversities. So in getting away from some adversity, they use a trick and end up in the middle of whatever.
[2] Scene setup: Interrupted. NPC action, bureaucracy, usurp.
[3] Scene setup: Unaltered
[4] Scene start: Altered (5). I keep thinking they’ll do “The Lady’s Honor” and get altered or interrupted. This time, they meet something.
[5] Iron Gauntlets: The game’s version of kobolds talk in “chirps, whistles, squeaks” and so forth. I’ve added the common language.Physically, they are the Iron Gauntlets version of kobolds. I’m sure the personalities are totally different...
[6] Scene setup: Interrupt (4) PC Negative, desert weapons.Okay. Attacked by something, and Felewin loses his sword.
[7] Mythic question: Probable innocents are being harmed. Does Felewin attack (likely)? Yes (42)
[8] Iron Gauntlets: Felewin goes all out in this attack, because he’ll start being cautious next round. Two successes and he only needs one. Its Toughness doesn’t activate, so it takes two Fatigue, 2 Injury. That -1D might save him.And it fails its composure roll and flies away.
[9] Scene setup: Unaltered (9)
[10] Scene setup: Interrupt.
[11] Iron Gauntlets: She’s hiding (stealth). How tough is it to see her? Only one success, so both of them see her easily.
[12] Scene setup: Altered (7) Event: Introduce a new NPC: Failure, Weapons
[13] Scene setup: Unaltered (10)I was interpreting the failure as “bringing back a haunted weapon.” More will come.
[14] Scene setup: Interrupt (4)Okay, I was going to have the ghost appear during the fight, but this works too.
[15] Scene setup: Interrupt scene (2) Iron Gauntlets: Ninefingers takes twice as long to make sure, and just engineers a proper rockfall-on-command. On the other hand, Felewin still has -1D with this sword.
[16] Scene setup: Unaltered (8)
[17] Iron Gauntlets: Felewin burns 2 points of luck to reduce the damage, so he takes 1 Fat and no Inj. The thing is oversized, so it’s relatively easy to hit…until it gets 4 successes on its Fit roll or 2 sets of 3 successes in a row. Then it pulls free. 1 that time.If he does 3 Inj to a single location (chest or wing), the thing can’t fly. He does 2 on this shot, because it fails its armor.
[18] Iron Gauntlets: It hits, but Felewin’s armor stops all of it, which is certainly lucky.Next round, Felewin goes first.I’m treating the possession as 8 dice of Fabrica Mentus power, the Union ability.
[19] Iron Gauntlets: In the game system, this is called a prostrating task, trading fatigue levels for dice. In this case, Felewin has aimed (+1 die) and 2 levels of fatigue (+2) for a total of 8 dice. And he gets a good result, at the risk of being nearly unconscious. Of course, he thinks this ends the battle. He’s as -3 Fat, -1 Inj. Mythic Question: Is the thing alone (Likely)? No (79)
[20] Scene setup: Unaltered (8)Iron Gauntlets: Do both Ninefingers and Felewin make their stealth rolls? Two and 1 successes, respectively. And the beast makes 2 on observation, so she sees both of them.
[21] Iron Gauntlets: He hits on the first shot, and the thing’s armor doesn’t protect her from it; it misses.Next round, Felewin goes second, and it hits him for, well, a lot. He uses all his Luck negating the Injury effects.
[22] Iron Gauntlets: I don’t know if it’s legal, but she uses her own luck to get rid of his injuries. I’m treating the possession as 8 dice of Fabrica Mentus power, the Union ability.
[23] Note that I’m treating this all as one scene from a roleplaying perspective, though I separate each time I change POV.
[24] Scene setup: Altered (5) Gah. Well, in every adventure there’s a point where a last new thing is introduced and they have to solve it with what they have. So no more scene setups. From here to the end, I’ll just use Mythic when I can’t decide.
[25] Iron Gauntlets: He spent all his luck to get rid of the 2 points of Inj and 1 point of Fat.
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