Interlude - Stonebrace

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With a quick slap to the back of his thick neck of red clay hues, War Captain Doran Stonebrace silenced the annoying insect. The Dunestanni glanced at his hand, screwed up his face in disgust, and shook off the remains. Don't even know what ya were, but you're an ugly one, he thought with a chuckle. Only one of the thousands in these woods, judging by the sound.

His boots tromped through the untouched growth and his eyes scanned all about him. Nineteen other soldiers followed behind, peering into the shadows under the trees.

Tumul Gaur. Anything could be waiting for us here.

Doran made a quick gesture with his left hand, indicating a cluster of trees dark enough for enemies to hide. Two of his soldiers broke ranks and moved to investigate, the clinking of their chain mail rendering their attempt at stealth useless.

The Duns of Aelwyn did not come this far for stealth, Stonebrace figured. We're here to establish a foothold, and defend it if need be. He'd chosen a thousand men and women highly regarded for valor and discipline. The High Lord wanted more certainty and dispatched the other five thousand additional soldiers, bolstering Aelwyn's militia with conscripts. Another five hundred specialists—Arcanists and healers, mostly—provided support.

The dark mountain peaks loomed off to the west through the breaks in the trees. Tiernalen's Wall separated this vast forest from the city of Aelwyn and the rest of the Bordermarches. Doran reviewed the stories and legends prior to the expedition. He knew the unspoken fears in the hearts of many of his soldiers. The unknown dangers and past failure seemed reason enough to stay west of the Wall. Trouble aplenty on our side, some counseled. No reason to seek out more.

But not enough resources. Doran glanced at his Gracemark of Strength and smirked. And if the Aspects saw fit to fill this land with the metals and lumber Aelwyn needed, surely they intended it to be used. Kalv would, at least. Strength meant conquering adversity, overcoming the wild to take hold of what one needed to survive.

Doran and his men patrolled the woods along the outskirts of the expedition's base camp. They came ready for a fight, with the brightest of Aelwyn's battle-mages, war-priests, scouts, and soldiers. But thus far, they encountered no sign of life other than the beasts of the forest. No cause for complacency, Doran considered. I won't give 'em a chance to rename the Wall after the Stonebrace clan.

The patrol turned right, heading west with the mountains looming ahead. Across the ridgeline and northwest lay Aelwyn. Home. Doran longed for the smell of the forges in the Dun Quarter, and the taste of roasted meat and ale from Thunderhead's tavern. Leave the trees for the Ghostskins, and give me the city any day. Better yet, a deep mine with a rich vein to pluck out with my bare hands! Ah, one day perhaps, after this venture succeeds.

Weariness softened his earthen form as he dreamt of exploring depths of stone for valuable minerals. He noted the passage of the sun and realized with a touch of resignation how many hours remained in the day. Dunestanni bodies could consume food and drink. But their main nourishment came during sleep underground, their bodies drawing nutrients from the earth like a plant's roots. I could go for a nice rest in this stone. This land feels richer, fresher than Aelwyn's plateau.

A hopeful future distracted him again. He imagined a good plot of land with a decent deposit of riftgold or phasecopper to provide steady income. Perhaps a small hill away from the noise and bustle of civilization but close enough for trips to the tavern at some mining village among those that would inevitably spring up in Tumul Gaur—

A humanoid shadow darted between trees uphill.

Doran froze, and his men stopped their march at once. The war captain's eyes squinted, inspecting the shadows and trees on the slope to his left. Weapons raised in silence all around Doran, and his stubby fingers tightened on the haft of his heavy maul.

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