One's demons

A shadow among shadows moves silent along the walls of Othrongroth, the grave that still gets to be the grave of many. Neither lust for the gold of the dead, nor seeking the glory of a rare trophy brings this lone wanderer in this place of doom as neither sight of chests of jewels nor that of precious armors slow down her sneaking. In the faded light of the strange candles lighted by noone, which barely shatter the darkness, the glitter of the good steel sword held by a ivory-white hand and few loose tresses of blonde hair escaping the hood of the black cloak are the only hints this shadow is not one of the cursed inhabitants of The Great Barrow. A thin thread of metallic luster marks her treil and his end enters a pocket of her cloak. The stranger does not know well the place and the old trick of a bolt of thread might help him back to safety as the labyrinth of Othrongroth is as a dangerous enemy as its inhabitants. He stops is a dark corner facing a group of guards in front of him. Two huge spiders and two shades block the corridor 20 steps in front of him. Blue eyes thin in a narrow line and his whole body is strain as the string of a well bent bow preparing to attack. Speed and surprise are his advantages. He pulls enough thread from the bolt in his packet and then launches himself and before being noticed his sword has sliced in two one of the spiders and the dagger in his left hand found the eye of the other beast that is now hissing in terrible pain, chaotically moving his dozen of sharp bladed legs.. A jump behind and his sword meets just in time the charge of the two fell spirits. His movements betray long hours of training and he defends himself perfectly. One step behind to block with both dagger and sword the coordinated attack of the two brings him to a lunge position adapted for defense and the movement causes the hood of the cloak to fall showing the pale face of a young women. Her sword finds its way to the chest of one of the black shades and then the one to one fight finishes in a matter of seconds. The blinded horrified beast still moves chaotically searching her enemy when the final blow ends her life. The girl then pulls again her hood to hide herself better in the dark and retreats again in the shadow of the wall listening careful if the sound of the battle drew more enemies. It seems it is not the case. Probably the creatures are used with their siblings facing adventurers -whose rotting bodies or old white bones along the corridors of the barrow make the grotesque picture of the tomb frightening and the air hard to breath. So they don't even bother to join if they hear a fight, as she noticed before, but caution is a good friend always. Two more turnings of the corridor and then a round hall opens before her and a thin smile flourishes on her lips while her blue eyes narrow in a line. This was the enemy she hunted, the red-haired Wight-Lord of the Barrows, Sambrog, of whom terror stories are told in the early mornings at the inn by those silver enough to talk and drunk enough to stay. The lord of the Barrows near Bree and the guardian of treasures he is and he ended the lives of many youngsters seeking the riches of the Barrows. He rarely exits his lair in Othrongroth, but if you get too see him wandering the Barrows on his shady horse you are not likely to live and tell the story. It is him she wanted to face. She heard of him being dreadful and powerful but the sight of him only stirs the will to end the battle soon, but no fear. Is something evil and rotten in his look and movements but nothing of the fearsome greatness of the ghost lords of Fornost. He is alone in the room and there is only one other corridor opposite the room on which help might come to him. She chooses the spot she will try to drag him to in order to see both entrances in the room while fighting She steps into the room, this time without trying to surprise her enemy. She takes her time to look in the face of her enemy searching any trace of loosing her conscience, analyzing her thoughts. The Wigth Lord seems surprised of his strange visitor. "How have you reached so far, Woman?" his unpleasant hissing voice resonates strangle between the stone walls. The girl does not bother to respond but draws her sword and dagger and prepares to charge. "No matter, this will be your grave" the Wight hisses and attacks. The girl parries and steps back until she has the wall behind her and the entrances in sight. The battle is a bit tougher than expected. The Wight is more powerful than his stature lets one believe and his poisonous breath sickens her. Still she shotly recognizes the pattern of his blows and her sword finds the way to his black heart. A short rattle and her enemy is on the floor, his physical form visibly diminishing. She puts back her sword and dagger and bends to take the helmet off the Wight's face. The empty eyes of a hag look up to her from beneath the imposing mask of the helmet. Some stories tell the the lord of the Barrows has been defeated before but his master brings him back to haunt the living again and again. True or not now he is quite lifeless in front of her. "Well is a first step" the girls mutters "but you were so not what I needed, weak Wraith. And I think for the test I seek other will be the realm I'll need to search." Then she puts the helmet in the other pocket of her cloak and starts rolling the thread walking out. The corridors are silent and so are her steps. Faded noises from far corridors make her stop from time to time to listen, but her dark thoughts are getting their fair share of her mind. One person she told what happened in Fornost and he did not understand what this meant for her and her decision to fight that weakness. He asked her to accept herself when he was the one unable to accept her for how she is. Is not herself she does not accept but weakness. She is her ambition and pride, her ancestry and high standards. She will never tell her companions she can loose her self-awareness in battle, as this would be the end of her dreams of becoming a commander of armies, the end of their trust in her judgment and command. But her egoist decision to hide such weakness could cost lives if she does not re-conquer herself. And she won't have that either. She always wanted to be a leader to win great battles and bring back safe every single life she can win over death. And she never wanted to be anything but that hero. And while she can't guarantee her cold good judgment in battle she will fight alone her own daemons. Until she will face a second Remmenaeg and send him back to the shadows he was summoned from fully aware of each detail of the fight.. or go there in his place.