The brief dark terror of the nights assault was behind them now, once bright in the mind and the blood but now fading as the afterglow of a candle upon the eye. Stromdorf's fate faded into the east as the glow of its fiery consumption was subsumed by the rising light of dawns own flame. It was almost as if, for one brief moment, the towns burning fate had spread to the entire eastern horizon.
Perhaps, thought Mortelis, the storms and rain had been the small towns shield against this ignominious end and their removal had brought about the demise of the foetid human settlement that had clung, limpet like, to the damp landscape. Like some blighted and sightless maggot that dwelt in shadow beneath a rock, with rock removed, the blight that was Stromdorf had simply shriveled in the glare of the day and was now aflame. The flood of the beastmens wrath sweeping away the city that had been so resilient towards the pounding of the wind and rain. The closing of the vortex had stilled the imbalance in the Aethyr, the gales of Azyr had abated and the sister winds had rushed in... Ghur, the beast wind, and Aqshy, the flame, exacting their great toll.
The imagery was apt, many things had been hidden behind that curtain of rain and civilisation and the town could not have survived long when those curtains had been so catastrophically drawn aside.
From the fire of Stromdorf's death, in Mortelis' mind a flame had grown phoenix like from the ashes. After all these weeks and months of fruitless searching, the first evidence of the existence of the Four Horned beast had been revealed. In the assault. Whether Foaldeath now lay dead on the battlefield or reveled in the violation of the human town, Marie Holtz deformed son had brought Mortelis one step closer to the beast who would one day feel an unstoppable wrath delivered by elven hand.
Now he had seen the minions of that beast with his own eyes he felt surer in his charge than he had done for many moons.
That would all come with time though, as he considered the refugee's moaning and cold in the chill morning air there were certain realities that needed addressing. Of the towns populace just over half, some 400 souls, had fled the doom of Stromdorf and barely a dozen among them were prepared for the seasons challenges, fatigue and despair would soon replace the relief of survival.
The light of day would allow them to view the true scale of the devastation that had been wrought upon them, eyes would fail to fall upon familiar or beloved countenances and the devil of the minds eye would draw glorious and gruesome fates for many now absent.
The demon of winter would soon draw all energy from the meager reserves of these folk drawn so quickly in the night from slumbering dreams to waking nightmare.
Hunger would begin to gnaw at their remaining resolve and what pretense was retained of civility would swiftly spiral downwards into chaos, violence and rage.
As he stood watching the dawn Mortelis considered the next step to take, whatever path he took would ultimately lead to a confrontation with the Four Horned Beast, of that much he was sure, but this next single pace would decide so much more than the fates of Daith and himself. The mayfly brief existence of these humans was all too dependent on their actions and assistance. natures way would be to leave them to fend for themselves, the strong may survive but the weak and infirm would almost certainly perish. But, as the pale morning sun warmed his skin, a half forgotten comment from weeks earlier rose within his mind, it had rankled at the time but he had let it pass.
"look at the elves, there once great civilization ." those had been the words of Solla, used in an attempt to forge a cautionary tale of temperance and restraint back in the court of Stromdorf. uttered in defense of the Holtz clan, who's executions at the hands of Stromdorf's "elders" had ultimately brought doom upon every one of that burning pyre's now orphan populace.
"We shall show show these humans what an ancient 'once great' civilization is capable of.."
He turned from the eastern horizon to look for Kessler among the desolate and displaced. The Captain was not within his sight but his gaze fell upon the small form of a halfling, picking his way through the mostly sleeping townsfolk..
Striding effortlessly over the haphazard evacuee's Mortelis drew closer to the small, stout being,
"Halfling! I seek Kessler, Guard Captain of Stromdorf now fallen. Do you have knowledge of his whereabouts?"