** These events take place 3 years before the start of the Carrion Crown AP **
The road had been empty for miles. Not a single passerby or farmland homestead broke the monotonous journey down from the mountains into Ustalav. Winter was approaching and most merchant travel along these parts had slowed as the snow began to advance down from the peaks of the mountains into the countryside. The ground here had yet to be covered by the advancing snows, but the autumn wind was beginning to blow cold.
Keron had grown tired of sitting in the wagon and had gotten down and walked alongside the horses for the last few miles. Sitting in a wagon felt unnatural. It felt good to walk and stretch his legs. He ran a hand through his long brown hair, as the autumn wind began to pick up. Unlike most Shoanti, he had never shaven his head, as is common practice for men and women in the tribal lands. It was at the direction of his mother, Fereal. She was a shaman and the Mai-Coh (1) were rarely held to expected standards within the village. In exchange for the power granted them by the spirit world, the villagers allowed and even expected eccentricities from the spirit guides. When Keron had approached her many years ago on the matter she had told him that he was not a common man and should not follow common practice. She explained that the great Ma’iitsoh (2) spirit took pride in his pelt and so should Keron. Fereal had the same long, thick brown hair as Keron and held it aloft in braids woven with eagle feathers. The striking features of the mother had been passed to her son. His facial features were sharp and handsome. His eyes were a bright green, like his fallen father. Keron had the dark, tanned complexion of his people. His arms were decorated in bright red tribal tattoos venerating the beast spirits that watched over the Tamiir Quah. Above all, the Tamiir venerated the Eagle and Wolf spirits, and his tattoos reflected those beliefs. On his shoulder was the tattoo given to him as his coming of age reward, handed to young warriors in the tribe upon confirmation of the first kill of an A-Nah-Ne-Dzin (3). The mark was created in bright red ink and depicted the great eagle and wolf spirits chasing one another in endless pursuit.
Keron looked up into the wagon and saw the Professor nodding off. The elderly scholar had ridden without complaint, but the barbarian could tell that the travel was wearing on the old man. Fereal trusted Lorimorr to take her son on his first trip out of Shoanti lands. She respected the man, his knowledge and his honor. She has instructed Keron to watch over him closely. She explained that the ‘civilized’ world of the lowlanders held far more dangers than his mountain homeland. Still, Keron was excited. He longed to see the cities he had heard about only in tales of traveling merchants. He wanted to sample the potent drink and exotic women of the lowlanders. Keron was not as reclusive as most of the Shoanti, who fiercely guarded their tribal lands and rarely ventured out into the world. Having been raised by a single mother and having that mother be a powerful Mai-Coh was enough to make him significantly different than most Shoanti. Keron had inherited his mother’s strong spirit and her willingness to break from tradition.
Suddenly the silence of the road was broken. A call came from the trees a short distance ahead. The sound was meant to mimic that of a Raven’s caw, but a son of the Tamiir would never be fooled by such a pathetic facsimile. That was the sound of a man. Keron reached up into the wagon and gently placed his hand on Lorimorr to wake him. Sleep left the old scholar’s eyes and he awoke.
Keron whispered softly to Lorimorr, “Men in the trees ahead. This is an ambush. Climb into the back of the wagon and stay down.”
Lorimorr looked to Keron and was about to argue against hiding, but saw the look on the young warrior’s face and knew it best to not argue. Though Keron was only seventeen, he was over 6’7” tall and weighted close to 250 lbs. His body had the muscled frame of an imposing Shoanti warrior. Strapped to his back was a massive greataxe, which he now pulled free.
“We will stop here. To venture into those woods would allow them their cover.” Keron said softly as he watched the professor scramble back into the wagon. Having been on many hunts, Keron knew it was the role of the hunter to make sure that the battle was fought on his terms, in the environment of his choosing.
Sure enough he saw rustling in the trees ahead when the road bandits realized that the wagon had stopped before entering the forest. Keron’s sharp Shoanti ears could pick up traces of them whispering to each other. He could make out at least five men, through motion or sound. Then at last, realizing that the wagon would not advance, they came pouring out of the trees towards him.
Keron’s sword was now held tightly in his hands. He whispered a call to the Tamiir Kith to initiate the Urok-Tor (4). His sacred tattoos began to glow faintly red and his pupils turned a dark crimson. Keron vowed to show these lowlander cowards the might of the Shoanti.
One of the bandits fired an arrow that Keron sidestepped. The arrow hit the side of the wagon and lodged into the front wagon wheel. Another arrow whizzed past his arm.
“Come fight me cowards!” Keron screamed as he now was in control of the full power of the Urok-Tor. Keron raced forward to cut the men off before they could unleash a full volley of arrows upon him. The bandits were not prepared for the speed and ferocity of the young Shoanti. He fell upon the first man as he was raising his bow to fire again. Keron swung his axe down and cut through bow and bandit alike. Blood sprayed from the deep gash that nearly cut the man in two and covered the face of the barbarian. He tasted the coppery warmth of the blood and spat it upon the ground.
“Lowlander blood tastes like pig” he shouted as he rushed forward to the next man. Again he dropped the bandit as he was attempting to let loose an arrow. The bandit fell dead. Seeing the folly of trying to fire before Keron closed the distance, the remaining three bandits dropped their bows and drew blades. Though cautious after seeing two of the men dropped so quickly, the lack of travel on the road had left them desperate. They had eyed the wagon hoping that it was filled with money and goods. They would not let a single young savage keep them from their prize.
The three Ustalavian bandits fell on Keron simultaneously. It was then they noticed his tattoos softly glowing red in the moonlight and his blood red pupils. The sight gave them pause, but there was no time for escape. They still had the advantage of numbers. They attempted to surround Keron and eliminate the advantage of his size and power in one on one combat. Keron did not let their tactics distract him. He focused on the bandit in front of him and said through clenched teeth “you are the cowardly pig who will know death first.”
Keron deflected a blow from the bandit and brought his giant axe down through the defenses of the thief. Keron’s weapon shattered the cheap blade of the bandit and cleaved through the top of his skull. It was at that moment that Keron felt a sharp pain in his side. He felt warm blood pour down his leg.
He swung around to face the remaining men. He did not take a second to look down at his wound, instead he swung his axe in a wide arc. It caught the leg of the man on the right and severed it completely. The coward fell in a heap, screaming in pain and begging for his life. The final man tried to run. Keron pulled a blade from his boot and let it fly. The dagger sunk deep into the back of the bandit’s neck. He dropped dead.
Keron looked down and saw the bandit dagger buried in his side. He pulled it loose and more blood spilled to the ground.
The bandit with the severed leg was still screaming. He walked over to the legless man, grabbed him by the hair and slit his throat with the knife he had just pulled from his own body.
As blood drained from the wound on his side, Keron grew weak. He could not maintain the focus necessary to bind the spirits and sustain the Urok-Tor. The road began to spin. He stumbled forward and could barely make out the professor leaping from the wagon through blurred vision. Keron fell to his knees and then forward onto the road.
The world went to black.
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Shoanti (Navajo) Translations
(1) Witches
(2) Wolf
(3) Orc
(4) Battle Frenzy powered by the Spirit Guardians of the Tamiir
