Since leaving Icewall I have thought back many times to my conversation with Kribik, the orc watching me in the armory and father of Ozruk. He had confirmed all of our fears during the celebration of Balasar and myself’s arrival.
The northern tribes were not only at war with one another but were being hunted by Tuskgutter as well. As they began to catch on, all the chieftains tried to call for an alliance but it was too late. What remained of his tribe and nearby others had banded together, fleeing to Icewall.
Luckily for them the atmosphere had changed there after the attempted siege by Novak and the First Breaker.
It does ease the worry knowing that Tuskgutter is in the North instead of around Red Larch. Amara’s safety is one less burden on my mind. Regardless of what these orc tribes morals were, I hate that my relief comes at the cost of their lives.
It is as if all these events over the past ten days were meant to lead me down the path I stare at now. At the base of the Spine of the World the key had brought me to one hidden by powerful magics. None of the others, including Lithia with all of her arcane might, could not see past the illusion.
A benefit of having Lothric’s frigid key.
Staring at it, my mind takes me back to Red Larch and the strange, red mist that covered the surrounding area of my adopted home. The whole illusion was to distract us Heroes of Red Larch from the First Breaker summoning it’s demon army. Luck helped us break free of the magic then. I can only hope Tymore favors us again this day with the lich.
Hours down the path a mountain range looms. The slight pulse from the key grows with each strep closer.
At the base we find a lone wooden door being watched by two windows high above. It is hard to make out who or what watches us from them but it is obvious they have bows drawn. I call up to them, informing them that Nathanos had summoned us. For proof of my claim I display Lothric’s key for all to see.
There is no lock on the door for the frigid thing either.
The key’s rapid pulse never slows.
A low growl from Balasar speaks for everyone’s annoyance. Lithia answers him with a small, frustrated whine. Prince Amon answers my questioning look with a clueless shrug.
Resting my head in my hand, I close my eyes while rubbing my temples. It cannot be this easy can it?
Slowly pulling open the door, I am greeted by the stench of death.