Gift of Eomar

The Storm Peaks

The companions take their place among the crew of the Callehad in it’s voyage to the Alabaster Citadel to rendezvous with the Order of the Alabaster Aegis.

The Hand learns the value of a hard day’s work through hull-painting and mineral crushing. In the process, the young warlock also gains valuable insight on the mannerisms of the elves of the Legion.

While lingering on deck observing the scene, Sayer notices adverse weather in their distant path. Knowing the need, he volunteers himself and his colleagues to assist as necessary. Later that evening an advisory is disseminated throughout the crew, confining the crew outside direct duties to the decks below as a safety precaution.

Early the next morning his squad is called upon and set to a series of tasks which Sayer delegates with some demeanor of polished professionalism. Though his friends at first have a slow start, they soon gain some footing at the tasks after a on-the-fly adjustment on his part.

First Mate Nazeer runs the duties through short-shifts, considering the harsh weather. The companions eventually finish their work and are soon rotated out. Returning to down time activities, Sayer becomes aware of a growing concern among the elven crew. There seems to be an ominous voice on the wind. He joins his elven compatriots in investigating and indeed hears a strange, ominous sound between the whistling gale of the weather.

He alerts his friends and they discuss the implications. On’ogg remembers that the ‘Forge of Souls’ had a close tie to the giants of this region and their history with the Alabaster Aegis. Elbanor remembers that the giants are often greatly blessed by the Lords of the Elemental Planes. Feeling a calling by his own Lord Ak‚ÄôLexzion he rushes to the main deck to observe this anomaly for himself.

Some ways distant he takes notice of a silent crashing thunder, deep within the roiling blizzards roiling around the summits of the Khalkist mountain range. The Khalkist acts as a natural barrier within the Ironback mountains in the great north, beyond which the vast tundras lay sprawling as far as the eye can see.

Believing this a sign, he calls forth a mastery of the elements around him, summoning his own booming lightning around the area of the ship. Those on deck take cover amidst the violent display of charged elemental might. As they recover, several of the crew, Nazeer among them move to apprehend the cleric.

Entranced by the spell, Elbanor finds himself equal to the task of staving off his assailants. Indeed, rapt in the splendor of the lightning around him, the young man doesn’t notice as the ship is torn from it’s trajectory, caught in a slipstream that bends it’s course towards the heart of this fierce blizzard.

Moments into this cutting weather Captain Castien calls for all hands on deck, to “..Save the ship!”. With his heart pounding in his chest, Elbanor takes a position on the nose of the forecastle, dodging crates as they become detached from their moorings. The rest of the companions aid in the efforts of recovery, securing the lines as the cutting winds threaten to tear the ship from it’s dirigible (the balloon).

Combining their efforts, the companions are successful in securing the rigging, only to hear Elbanor call out that they are almost through. Suddenly they burst through the swirling mass of the blizzard, barreling into the relatively calm of the eye.

With their speed, they find themselves hurtling towards the tallest peak among the Khalkist. Atop what must be an ancient platform carved into the throat of said peak they see a colossal crystal formation, an encasement of roughly hewn ice. They are startled to see a a figure of colossal size, humanoid in features but larger than anything they had ever seen. A giant, to be sure, encased in the ice.

Noticing the frame, they see the giant to be female. The only signs of life to be seen are the soft hum of cold blue light radiating through the ice around the giant’s eyes, catching on minute cracks within the crystalline formation.

With the last of their efforts, the crew attempt to slow their speed with emergency rigging, but find only one able to be deployed, the others caught in the mess of the lines. With the intact sail dropped, the Callehad careens forward on it’s side. Castien calls out for all hands to “…brace for impact!”, before the ship slams it’s starboard side into the sheer edge of the ice.

The deep cracking of ice can be heard beneath the the Callehad’s ancient ironwood hull splintering, long persisting as the airship rebounds off it’s impact. The hull itself begins a wide arc, seeming to tie up it’s line as the dirigible itself bounces off the impact. The crater of shattered ice reverberates through the massive formation and those still standing look on bewilderingly as a massive crack breaks free an arm of the giant.

The giant uses her freed arm to blast the rest of the formation into glacier size chunks, the pieces falling all around the ship, creating blasts of avalanches below. Still careening aside, those upon the Callehad watch helplessly as the giant stands to her feet, bringing up a massive arm to intercept the ship.

Bracing for another impact, those upon the ship are thrown about as the giant hand closes around the hull of the airship. Large plates of metal cover her arms as a scaled armor, shining with resplendent energy. The armor climbs higher and higher on the figure, capping on a similarly fashioned helm around a feminine face marked by eyes the color of lightning and brimstone. Not unkindly, the giant holds it steady and leans down; eyes the size of wagon wheels leveling with those on deck.

She calls out, her voice booming with a energy in itself, “Hear me …… those .. who have called … the storm ……….. for .. you .. have FOUND HER~!!!!”.

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