After disposing the loot from the previous venture (F29 – A Tale of Two Griffins), Grettir went straight out again, to the same area with the same companions, but adding a dash of dwarven grit and lore in the form of Ranulf. Although it was still July he was aware that the adventuring season (at least in those climes) would be severely curtailed and he was still keen to see if he could gain some strategic advantage or edge against the forces of the Jotun in the coming Ice Winter. One possibility he returned to in his head was some sort of accommodation with Fire Giants. Unfortunately, once more his diplomatic ambitions were thwarted by ill-fortune, or possibly just martial over-eagerness when it turned out that the victims of a neatly set ambush were in fact Fire Giants, not the Frost Giants they thought they were staking out. They were accompanied by some sort of half-giant shaman mounted upon a large bear. The bear and one of the giants were taken down in the first volley, before they realised their mistake. The remaining giant and the shaman holed up in a small thicket and eventually the matter was settled by parley.
The shaman was called Ten Bears and was distinctly unimpressed by what he saw (not unreasonably) as an unprovoked assault, by the Stone King. It appeared that Grettir was well-known in these parts and enjoyed, at best, a mixed reputation. Grettir, for his part, did not hesitate to point out that Fire Giants frequently came reiving into the Southlands and at least he was fighting warriors, not peasants and farmers half his size. From such an unpromising diplomatic start, Grettir went on to suggest some sort of alliance against the Frost Giants, their mutual enemy. Ten Bears agreed to present this proposition to the Fire Giants and they agreed a rendezvous in a few days time. Ten Bears never turned up – which Grettir took to mean that they were not minded to take up his proposal.
Pushing on up the river system to the West they found themselves in ever higher mountainous territory. One morning as they were breaking camp they were approached by a lone Kur, carrying a white flag upon a spear haft. The Kur was wearing a hauberk wrought of horn scales. He stood off some hundred yards and addressed them in perfect Common Tongue. According to Ubaron he was using a spell to communicate. None had ever reported encountering a Kur sorceror before.
The Kur introduced himself as Horsmonden and gave them to understand that he was speaking for his whole people. He too knew that he was speaking with the Stone King. Although he spoke Common, the idiom with which he spoke it was not one with which they were familiar, and spoke of “Words of Iron”. However, the gist of what he said was this: if Grettir continued upon his present path into the mountains, there would be war between them; if he were to return the way he had come there would be peace. The strong implication was that the peace on offer would be more than just an immediate truce – more a lasting non-aggression pact.
Grettir knew more about the Kur than most. He had had many interactions with the Kur captive taken at the behest of Nickar (Kur Captive and the Inland Sea – D24) and formed the view that they were highly intelligent and in their own way honourable. They were suspicious of and hostile to humans. He suspected that they were probably the escaped remnant of a slave race, summoned from off-plane by imperial magicians, for who knows what purpose. It also occurred to him that he and his companions had slain many Kur – probably scores – out of what was probably a small population. They had never encountered a female Kur, or discovered a settlement, so it was unclear how they reproduced – or indeed that they did so at all. Although they had occasionally met Kur in small bands in the wilderness, for the most part they were to be found in the Southlands as mercenaries in the service of orcs.
Grettir replied that he would swear peace with the Kur and go no further up this pass, if they would no more ally themselves or make common cause with the orcs and others against him and his people. Horsmonden readily agreed and he and Grettir swore this by their “Words of Iron”. Horsdmonden then turned and walked back down the slope. As he did so, perhaps a score of Kur stood up from various places around the camp where they had been hidden (perhaps magically). It would have been an interesting fight and possibly one that might not have gone their way.
They descended back the way they had come to the main river valley and continued up it to the North. Realising that there was bad weather upon the way, the elves located a cave with a ledge high up the valley in which to shelter from the oncoming blizzard. That night as he was on watch with Kollgrim on the ledge, Grettir saw a huge claw loom out of the snow and come within an ace of scooping up his huscarle. Kollgrim was completely unaware of how close he had come to feeding a dragon that night. The following day the ice-drake reappeared and sent a blast of icy breath into the cave. Grettir who was on watch again responded by taking Jason’s crossbow and shooting a pot of alchemical fire into its maw. It departed again, heading north. Though both Grettir and Wilf had flaming muspell swords to pass round for warmth, they were almost out of fuel for a conventional fire. It was time to go home. Ubaron and Kolgrim obliged with their teleports.
F-30
OE Date: July 694
Characters: Grettir, Wilf, Ubaron, Ranulf NPCs: Kolgrim, Aliena, Gambelion
Real World: October 2003; Where: Surbiton
See also Ubaron’s Diaries