Naljaag, Nomads and Nobodies

Bard makes wind chime noises. ~Bard, The Wandering Caretaker

What do I put for bard? I was thinking "Doot-doot" or "Meep-meep".

Also surprise cameo.

Finally, I am exactly ten chapters ahead of every post. So if you point out any inconsistencies well this lazy moron will not change them. 

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"Oi Gregori?" Aalms called out from behind him as they crossed a makeshift bridge over the waters.

"Yeah?" He returned gruffly.

Aalms shuffled closer to him, "What's the deal with that wrapped weapon of yours? Its a spear no, pointy end gives it away but why is it wrapped?" The words were a little loud but were said with nervous energy.

He had obviously recognized that thee weapon was something special or dangerous. His words, unfortunately, had garnered the attention of some of the closer nomads.

Gregori shook his head slightly, "It is a spear. A cursed one at that. I have not seen a single person touch this spear and live. They usually explode into pieces."

Aalms, who was running a hand on the wrapped weapon pulled his hand back as if he had been bitten.

Chuckling softly, Gregori reassured, "Don't worry. The wrapping is covered in runes to prevent the spear from killing. But it is extremely dangerous, I would advice caution when being near it."

An older child sitting on one of the wagons asked, "If it is dangerous, why carry it with you?"

Gregori looked at the child, "Noxus has many such weapons, when they invaded Ionia, they gave these kind of weapons to children and sent them to die. The weapons killed the children and hundreds of innocent Ionians. Me keeping this weapon close to me, is preventing another child and hundreds of others from dying."

That got a few reactions from the nomads. The way they looked at him changed. His image in their eye improving beyond what already was.

"Were you in the war?" The child asked.

"No. Gods no." He spoke with another chuckle. "I worked as a mage, researching the runes on the weapon in near the Immortal Bastion. Me and my wife ran away from there and I grabbed this," He gestured to the spear. "On the way out."

"None of us can do magic." The child spoke, downtrodden. Then he looked at him once more with passion. "Can you show us?"

His question had the other children on the wagon looking at him expectantly.

"I can't do big dangerous things because I'm not strong enough but I can do small things. Here look."

He lifted a finger.

The children and some of the closer adults watched intently.

A small spark shot out and a fire danced at his fingertips.

"Most magic." He spoke. "Most magic uses runes to be useful. This little fire is all I can do without runes."

He answered a few other questions as they entered the frozen lands.

The change in scenery was instant. Like night and day. Gone were the green grass and trees. Blinding white as far as the eye could see.

The change in weather was less noticeable however, it was winter outside and it was winter here. Though the winter here was colder. The fact that the river they had just crossed over was not frozen over was a miracle in itself.

In he end, the Freljord was in front of him in all its glory. It resembled Shurima in its own way. Endless sand for endless ice and snow. Unbearable heat for unbearable cold. It was funny to him. Life was funny that way. People and creatures all somehow managed to live and even thrive in the worst conditions imaginable and continue with their lives as if nothing had happened. 

Gregori looked at the nomads, silently comparing them to the people of Demacia and Noxus. They lived their daily life to the fullest but those living in these kingdoms lived like they had a great calling to attest to.

They all would die in the end.

But despite it all, the nomads lived happily.

He himself had lived happily from the day he had brought Daisy and Leanna home.

The thought instantly filled him with rage as the image of Leanna's corpse appeared in his mind.

"Oi you lot! Stop right there!" A voice called out from to their right.

In a swift motion, Gregori pulled his spear off him and slid it into the nearby wagon. The children shifting to avoiding coming close to it. 

"I'm hiding it." He whispered to them.

He then turned to look toward the voice as the entire nomad group came to a halt.

The voice called out once more. "Are ye all nomads?"

The owner of the voice slowly came into vision. Behind him, were a lot of people.

Bandits, Gregori assumed.

Roark stepped up and called out. "Yes friend. We are planning to go to Naljaag by nightfall. The children can't travel for too many days."

Gregori smiled to himself. Roark was smart. By giving themselves a short duration of travel and then stating that there were children both made the bandits drop their guards and approach carelessly.

"Naljaag eh? That place is under our protection. You have to pay up if you want to go there. Our leader has a yeti you know that right? He is the one who freed the place a year ago." The man claimed as he came closer.

He had dark hair. Fully clothed in various furs. The glint in his eye creating a feeling of intense aversion to him for anyone who looked at him. In his hands was a large axe. His followers also had large weapons.

"Why sir? We have been to Naljaag three times in the past year and have never heard of you and the stories tell us of a boy and his yeti who freed the place. Is your boss that child?" Roark asked, trying to get more information out of the bandit.

Gregori placed his daughter inside the wagon and walked forward, closer to Roark.

"Don't question us. We were travelling. Our boss is not a child, he is a warrior. Who dares spread false stories about him? Pay up or go back."

Gregori reached for the shield on his back. 

Roark's hand shot up stopping him from pulling it free.

"Don't." 

Roark turned to him, "There are children here. We will win the fight with them but we would lose more."

He turned around again.

"We can't give you payment sir. Our goods are meant for the Avarosans and the Winter's Claw. You know what they would do if they don't receive their goods. You can ask for payment the next time you see us."

"Those big tribes eh? Give me names." The bandit asked unconvinced.

"Well, Avarosa will send Jorde and Winter's Claw will send Fealja. We have been trading with them for a few years now."

The man's face showed some change, "You know some big names." The fear on his face was quite pronounced.

"Well then, we will let you go for now. On the way back, we will come once again."

"Okay sir." Roark spoke.

And the nomads continued once again.

The bandits in the back watching them move on. They watched until the nomads and Gregori lost sight of them.

"Gregori. They were weak. We could easily kill them all but us losing one is worse than them losing ten. I know you can speak your way through a lot, use that skill. Rethink your priorities. You can satisfy your desire for blood later."

Gregori grit his teeth in frustration and moved back to his original position.

Roark had given sound advice. But he just wanted to beat the bandit's head in. That feeling amplified when he saw the man look at the nomads like prey.

What irked him just as much was how Roark underestimated him. And he knew that he put himself in that position. Gregori hadn't stood out by showing all that he could do. He just showed himself to be an above average hunter with a well of experience.

This tumultuous state of his was affecting him negatively. His want for revenge and hatred at himself for not being there for his wife, daughter and unborn child was making him take less than optimal decisions.

He needed to go back to the way he was on the day of the incident itself. He had to be cold and calculative. Use those he could and drop those he couldn't.

His attachment to this group of nomads was less than optimal. He needed to be better prepared. So he defaulted to the first step.

Gathering information.

Looking toward Aalms, he spoke, "How is Naljaag? Like as a place?"

"It used to be this old cursed abandoned milling place. And a year ago the curse just disappeared. The locals in the area talk of a child and his yeti destroying the curse. It doesn't seem real though. I mean.. a yeti? A creature of legend no one has seen in hundreds of years? Bah. Tall tales are all it is."

Aalms spoke wildly waving his hands as he mentioned the yeti.

A yeti?

Aalms was right. There have been no sightings of a yeti in countless years. He remembered Demacians go on yeti hunts and come back with nothing to show. Even Noxians did the same. He himself knew of multiple barons who had tasked warbands to search for yetis.

All returned empty handed.

"So now the place is used by nomads and traders?"

"Last year we had a messenger from Avarosa. Big gruff man. He talked about all the tribes coming to Naljaag for trading and buying fruits and such. Roark decided to move us there once and now this is our fourth time going there. The place is amazing. Abandoned houses all around. We go in early, pick a large house and we are set for a couple weeks until we move again."

Gregori turned to look at him shocked.

"Homes were in good condition?"

Aalms nodded. "Yeah. No wood rot. Nothing."

The conversation proved eventful. Gregori had his suspicions toward the place now. Countless years in abandonment and the houses are fine? Something was off.

The rest of the journey proceeded in silence. 

Gregori put his spear back on his person and carried Daisy with his left arm, keeping her close to his body and her head near his chest.

They stopped to rest twice. As they rested they chewed on some jerky and dried meats and drank warm tea. The women once again helped feed Daisy. They smashed the meat and milk together into sludge and slowly pushed it down her throat.

He had tried to stop them the first time but was refused heavily and only stopped when the oldest among them asked him if he wanted his daughter to starve.

At nightfall, they had arrived at Naljaag.

Nights in the Freljord were better than the days. Standing in the sun in the Freljord was the fastest way to die. The nights were better. Less cold. Clear skies with stars brightly shining. The moonlight illuminating the lands.

It was serene.

Dull. But serene.

Naljaag however, was quite different from what he expected. They had heard the sounds before spotting the place.

Three other nomadic groups had arrived before them, all gathered around a large fire at the center of the place.

Strong wooden houses were littered about. A few of them occupied by the nomads who came earlier.

"Look who it is! Roark! Old boy how was your journey? Some fun I hope."

"Ah Roark we have drinks for you. Hurry on!"

"Naila! My lady! You have come."

The nomads gathered together and chatted the night away. Gregori kept his distance but helped them settle into one of the larger homes. The nomads didn't bother with rooms, they slept where they felt like.

And he decided to stick to them and slept alongside them with his daughter close.

He didn't do so because he trusted them. He did so because if there was a night raid, he would have bodies to block any killing blows.

Gregori was thankful. But as Roark said, he had to rethink his priorities. And right now his children were the only priorities. The rest were unfortunately expendable.

He wished the best for the nomads and wouldn't harm them. But when push comes to shove, he would abandon them without hesitation.

That night he heard the words again.

"Survive. Please Live. Whatever happens just don't die."

"Greg. Love. Take care of our daughter for me okay? I love you. I'm sorry."

"Take care of them, don't keep them out too long okay?"

He wouldn't. He would bring them back home. Safe and alive.