Jandor Oridar, Lord Cold of Auril

[Thrym]

Lost in thoughts Jandor drifted, transformed into a hawk through the power of the goddess, through the powerfull blowing northwind towards the small, snow covered village. He allready had been angry enough before talking with Galia. Ilmen was gone for a month now, and he did not really know why. And then that elf dared to doubt what in his mind was the only possible reason why she had gone: It was the monks fault.

He knew that Thennsbane longed for his blood, and to well he remembered him trying to conquer Ilmen. In Jandors mind it all made a clear picture: The painbearer hated him, and loved her. As often as the monk sneaked around in the Redmist Inn or similiar places, he surely had found out what was between him and Ilmen. And now he had killed her, or kidnapped her. It all made sense. And Jandor had to believe. It had to be the truth.

He realized he had reached Skull Crag and dived down towards the village. Shortly before reaching the ground, he used his wings to slow down his fall, got into postion for landing, and ended the blessing that had turned him into a bird. For a short second his hawkbody became ice, quickly expanding to his normal size and shifting its form into that of human before becoming flesh and bone again. Directly after landing, his mind switched back to think about his situation. The voice of the ranger that accompanied Galia sounded in his head... perhaps she just left him. Quickly he wiped away the thought. It could not be. It must have been the monk.

Slowly he stepped through the snow, passing the Wild Wolf Inn and the rothe shelter. He stopped shortly. At this place it had begun. Unable to accept his own feelings, sure she never could return them, he had pushed her to tell him that she did not, allowing him to forget it. But she did not. And here, at the crossway, she told him why...
He shaked his head to bannish the thoughts. He had something to do here. So he started moving towards the mines again.

Finally he reached them. Slowly he approached the small body of water in front of them, and kneed down next to it. Closing his eyes, he called upon the power of the goddess, and reached out with his mind untill he found what he searched. A small fish. He touched the mind of the being with his own, and channeled the power of the frostmaiden into it, turning it into an obeying servant. An image appeared in his mind, the image of a coin, black and green. He sent the image to the fish, and told him to seek it. The seconds seemed endless, but finally he felt that the creature had found it. Jandor opened his eyes and reached out toward the water, taking the small object out of the fishs mouth.

He stood up and released the animal from his mental grip, his eyes locked at the coin. Slowly he pressed his lips against the cold metall. "May you remind me at what I have lost"

His view hardening, he put the coin into one of the pockets on his girdle. He looked up at the sky.

"Painbearer.... I know it was you... and you will PAY for what you have done!" Jumping up he called upon his goddess' power, reassumed the hawkshape and started again. Embraced and comforted by the pleasant cold of the wind, the sweet song of winter in his ear, the Lord Cold headed further north.

// Just to point it out, this is all just Jandors thoughts, not facts

[Thrym]

Angrily he kicked the door of the Redmist Inn open and stepped inside. Jandor headed toward one of the tables and took place. Holding his head in one hand he locked his eyes on the candle on the table and thought about what happened. The painbearer must have lied. He played innocent. But Jandor knew better. He must have been it. He played so unknowing and innocent, even pretended he never loved Ilmen.
'I don't love anyone else except Danyella', his word echoed through his head. Suddenly the Lord Colds eyes widened. "That's it!" He jumped up, allmost crashing into the waitress that had finally come to ask what he wanted. Ignoring the woman, he headed directly toward the exit, a mischievous grin playing around his lips. "You have told me far to much, painbearer..."

[Thrym]

A content grin playing around his lips, Jandor stepped out of the building. He closed his eyes, called upon the power of the goddess. Instantly he felt the well known shiver as his body reshaped. With a short jump and a flap of his wings he lifted himself up into the air. After a short search he found a wind that should lead him to his destination. He let the wind take control, and turned his thoughts to more important things again. What an interesting day this had been. And at first it looked bad. Ravenna had told him that that girl was just Thensbanes exgirlfriend, which had pretty much ruined the plan he had begun to create.

But when he met the painbearer. And now he would have the chance to avenge her. It was so easy to break his wall of discipline, and let his violent temper take control... he had accepted.

As soon as he had released the soul of the useless sorceress he had under control, the painbearer wanted to fight. Finally.

Realizing that the wind had carried him far enough, the Lord Cold flapped his powerfull wings and headed down. Silently he passed the crowns of the trees and carefully landed directly in front of a big, powerfully built creature. Quickly he shifted back into himself. "Hello Sturm" Smiling he petted the dire wolves head. "A battle lies before us my friend. A big and important battle. He will apy for what he did. Yes. Pay." He walked to Sturms right and laid down onto the snow, resting his head on the flank of the wolf. His hand glided into his pocket, pulling out the small piece of metall. Soflty he pressed his lips against the cold coin "I will avenge you my love." He put it back into the pocket and closed his eyes. Tomorrow he would be one step closer to his revenge.

He hoped it would easy the pain.

[Thrym]

Finally. The day had come. How terrible the waiting had been, but now, finally, the time had come. His hand stroked over the fur of his companion. A weak smile crossed his face. Sturm was at his side. He knew how dangerous it was, but the powerfull wolf showed no fear.
His view wandered from the wolf to himself. A layer of stone covered the usually snow white armor, and he could feel the magic flowing through his body. It was good that the goddess had given him the spells. He had doubted if she would grant them, after all this was his first fight since he became a priest that he did not fight because of Auril. But the frostmaiden had given him the power he asked for, and that gave him confidence. He hardened his grip around his axe and looked over to Byrnolf and that shield cleric.
The paladin and the shield were here to 'make sure everything was fair'. He did not believe that for a single second. He was sure they would attack him if his victory was close. But he was prepared for them. The paladin asked if he and the monk were done enchanting. The Lord Cold nodded shortly. This was not the time for great words.
The paladin started coutning. Jandor moved his shield hand into position. Then he gave the sign. The painbearer charged, and Sturm hurled himself into his way. Jandors arm rushed to his girdle, smashing a little runestone and invoking its magic over his body. Suddenly far quicker he rushed forward to help Sturm who had taken some hits in the mean time.
The painbearer seemed to have waited for that and kicked the charging priest from his feet, turning his attention to the wolf again. As quick as possible, Jandor jumped up, at the same time grabbing something out of his girdle again. He smashed his axe forward, broke the vial in his other hand and threw the dust inside over him and Sturm.
But it came to late. The wolf went down. A wave of anger rushed through Jandors thoughts. As if killing his love had not been enough, now he had taken him his best, and perhaps only, friend. Furious he went over to attacking. The monk was quick. He jumped out of the way here, dodged there and at the same time attacked with great speed. It did not matter. Guided by all the wrath in his heart, the Lord Cold hurled himself towards his foe.
The blows of his foe did not hurt at all first. He did not even realize how fast he was hit and hit again. Protected by layer and layer of Stone, he did not feel the hits. Did not feel how the last layer broke. Then suddenly he felt it.
A rain of punches hit his body, smashed through his blessings and crushed his bones.
Jandor stumbled back, loosing control over his limbs. It could not be... he could not have lost. He stumbled another step backwards - or tried to. His legs denied him service, and he broke down onto the ground. Gathering his last strenght, he spilled out the blood in his mouth. 'You... will... pay...' Then it got black.

He opened his eyes. No, he did not. He knew this place. Slowly his spirit body raised. The fugue plane. He had lost. Again and again it rang through his head. He had lost. Lost. He had been to weak to avenge her. Emitting a terrible scream, his spirit rushed forward, pushing others aside as he ran towards the place he expected Auril, or one of her servants. He had to get back, had to...
It was empty. No Auril. Not even a servant. How could that be? 'Goddess, goddess, I need to get back... I can't let him win...' No response. 'Go... Goddess? GODDESS?' Nothing. He felt down to his knees, shaking his head. 'Please send me back goddess... it is not over, it can not, may not be!' Still silence. Silence. Why was it silent? Why was no one here?
He sighed. 'Oh goddess... if you won't send me back... then ... you must be right. To winters peak it is then...' He looked up. Still Silence. Nothing. No one came. If she did not send him back... shouldn't someone, something come and bring him to winters peak? Then he understood. He had lived his live for Auril. Each and every second of it. But he did not die for her. He did not die in her name. He died for his love. The goddess judged him to be unworthy to enter winters peak. 'No... no...' He heard his own whispers fading in the endless plane before him. He would end in the wall of the faithless. The thought was so ridiculous. All his life he had been a faithfull man. And now he would end up there.
'No... oh, no. Jandor Oridar will not end like this'. He stood up and walked towards the place the new souls gathered. He would get back. Somehow. And he would have his revenge.

Without Auril.

[Thrym]

The black faded. At least a bit. It was still dark around him, but he could see something. His softly glowing, transparent spirit floated in the air of the room. He looked down at the two sleeping humans before him. A man and a woman. He knew what to do.

He glided down, his view wandering over the man. He looked strong enough. His eyes wandered over the mans face. Handsome. Can't compare to my own, but at least not ugly. The body would be good enough. He moved other the man, and raised up vertically over him. The feets of his spirit first, he entered the body. The man opened his eyes. He tried to scream. To late. Jandor was inside, and his mind easily pushed the rightfull owner away.

Jandor blinked and looked down at himself. He opened and closed his hand, testing if he had control. A smile showed on his face. Great. It was not as good as his own, put this body would be the new home of his soul. He would... The woman next to him moved in the bed. She opened her eyes and looked at him. 'Darling, what's up? You should...' she yawned and continued '...get some sleep.'

He could net leave her alive. She would realize he was not her husband. Jandor noded. 'I will, dear... I will be right back." He stood up from the bed and went outside. His view wandered around. Finally he found what he searched and went in again. He climbed into the bed and leaned over the woman. She looked up 'Dear... it is really to...' His fist smashed forward into her stomach. The woman threw her head back, as he thought. His other arm rushed forward. The one with the knife.

He would leave her somewhere in the wood. Some animal would feast on the corpse, and the locals would think it killed her. That would also explain why her husband missed. Eaten, too. He threw the corpse over his shoulder and went out. He stepped through the snow, smiling up to the sky from which even more of it... he shivered. Paralyzed he dropped the corpse and stared at his hand. Looked at its movements. Of course he did. He did not have the favor of Auril anymore, and neither was his new body resistant nor did his new patron grand him protection from it. The biting cold felt unpleasant... so different from normal.

He ran inside and searched through the house untill he found some thick clothes. He put them on and shaked his head. They would protect him from his old dream. How ironic. He, the Lord Cold of Auril, needed protection from the winter. No. He was no Lord Cold anymore. He walked a new path now. And that was good... that treacherous goddess had not helped him, and now he was forced to wander around like this, to weak to stand against beings he had usually killed with a *thought*.

He went out again, not feeling the icy grip of winter as strong anymore. He put his hands into the pouches of the mantle. He raised an eyebrow. There was something in the right pouch. He pulled it out and looked at it. His eyes widened in disbelieve. How did it get there? Smiling he flipped the green-black coin into the air and catched it again. May be he was just a shadow of his former self - but he was here for a reason after all.

With new confidence he stepped forward.

Southward.

To Isinhold.

[Thrym]

Angrily he rushed to his room and smashed the door open. How this sickened him! He threw himself onto the bed and looked up at the ceiling. What a day. What a horrible day.

He had returned from the dead, yes. But he was so weak. So unbelievable weak. He had fought hobgoblins... and even kobolds! Jandor Oridar, former Lord Cold of Auril, feared by many and hated by even more, had to fight such creatures as he was to weak for something else. How ironic that thought sounded in his head. How wrong.

And it had been even worse. He had had company on his journey. Some dwarf. And a woman. He had felt unable to look at her. The red hair. The green eyes. How it had remembered him at his lost love. How it hurt. But he had managed it not to get overwhelmed by his memories. Then later he met a ranger. The ranger had an animal with him, nothing unusual. But he could feel their bound. He knew how it was. Sturm. His companion. His best friend. Perhaps his only one even. He was dead now, too. Jandor pushed the feeling back untill the ranger left. Then it was enough. Mindlessly he charged through the cave, leaving just corpses and blood behind him untill he was out.

Quickly he had went back to Isinhold, hoping to find some peace. But no. Downstairs in the inn two people had to talk about the icewind dale... reminding him of the third he had lost. His goddess. The ice. The winter. And all that people in town... they were so happy. They all had someone it seems. He could not stand seeing his foes that happy.

He felt so alone. Ilmen was dead. His wonderfull love, dead. He closed his eyes. He could see her that day in Isinhold, together with Sarah, as they met first. He could see her in Skull Crag, after he screamed at her to say she did not love him, whispering a 'because it would not be the truth' into his face. He could see her in his arms, her red hair playing around her perfect face with the emerald coloured eyes, with a smile on it warm enough even to melt his frozen heart. Then she faded. Just disappeared.

Sturm was dead. His best friend. He saw him, that day long ago, cowering into the side of his dead mother. How small and vulnerable the wolf had looked. He saw him grown up, saw how his powerfull companion walked next to him on the way to Cormyr. He saw the painbearer killing him.

Auril had abandoned him. His goddess, the sense of his live from his birth till his death. He saw her statue, back at home in the temple in the dale. Saw the powerfull blizzard that tested him the day he became a priest. Saw the cold lands of northern Cormyr, and for a second he could hear the bittersweet song of winter again, promising, so cold and yet so beautifull. Then he saw the fugue plane. Saw the endless emptiness before him. Felt the despair as he realized she had left him.

He was alone. Everything that he had ever cared for was gone. Not much remained.

His sorrow.

His hate.

His revenge.

Slowly he drifted into the lands of dreams, seeing the world as it should be. He saw himself, wearing the snow white robe of a Lord Cold again. The frozen paradise was there. In his arms was his love, and at his side his companion. A smile appeared on the sleeping priests face.

At least in his dreams the world was perfect.

No matter how horrible it was in truth.

[Thrym]

Quickly he jumped out of the caravan and hurried north, allmost running through the small town north of Isinhold. He knew his goal. A song was on his lips, one that had long not passed them. It was a strange song, in an even stranger language. But everyone that heard it understood its deep meaning.

It told of a perfect frozen world a paradise. It was a longing and beautifull song, full of desire and emotion, but at the same it felt terrible cold. He left Skull Crag through in the north, climbed up some hills untill he reached a little clearing in the beginning wood.

All the time, he had felt this feeling since he came back. The thirst for revenge burned hot and deep in his heart, and he had wanted to serve his new patron as good as possible. But he had felt empty. He had felt empty after Ilmens death allready, but since he came back it was even worse. Now he had not only lost his love, but also his friend and companion. And he had lost her.

His first memories were playing and being tought the ways of the frost under her statue, back in the dale. All the thirty years since his birth, he had awakened every day to serve her. He had mastered the day to serve her, and he went to bed to get strong enough to serve her again tomorrow. All his life had circled around her. Untill Ilmens death. Forgotten was the dream of the frozen paradise, this perfect and most wonderfull place of all, that his whole life he had worked to make true.

His new patrons vision could not enflame his heart the same way. It all seemed so wrong. So egoistic and with out any deeper sense.

He knew what to do.

The goddess had been right not to send him back. He had not been her servant that day.

Reaching his goal, he raised his voice, shouting towards the mountains: 'AURIL! HEAR ME, GODDESS!' Falling down on his knees, he lowered his voice again, and allmost whispered to the wind. About his failure. His mistake. And how he regretted it. His arm rushed to his neck, pulling out a little amulet from under the robe. With a quick movement of his arm, he tore the chain that held it appart and threw it away into the dirt, where the snowfall started to cover the damned thing.

He prayed. For the storm to come, come again as it came the day in the day as he had endured the blizzard for a night, without anything but the most basic clothes. The day he had entered the priesthood. HER priesthood. He tried to stay awake as long as possible, but finally the cold won and he sank down into the snow.

In his mind, the dark melody slowly faded. Halfconscious, he could hear the wind rushing over him, feel how his body was covered more and more by the snow. The dark melody faded more. Then it was gone, and the wind sounded louder. Louder. And louder. But somewhere in the wind he could hear the song of winter, the wonderfull, bittersweet melody of cold. He concentrated on it, pushing all other thoughts and feelings away. It became stronger and stronger, helping him to push it all away, untill their was nothign else anymore.

Some hours later he awakened. All he saw was white. He was covered in snow.

But he did not feel bad at all.

He felt the cold everywhere in his body, and each inch of it sended waves of joy and pleasure into his mind. He smiled. How wonderfull it was. Hesitating he raised, pushing the wonderfull cold snow away. A single strain of hair fell down, hanging in front of his eyes. They widened as he grabed for it. White. It was white. And that without dye even. He smiled broadly, not paying much attention to the fact that he'd have to colour it to stay hidden. The meaning was that counted.

He completely raised, and confidently stepped toward the town. He felt different from before his death, but his live had a sense again. The bittersweet song of winter playing in his ear, he walked further. Somewhere in it he somehow meant to hear a whisper.

Welcome back, Lord Cold....

[Thrym]

The stars were glowing above him in the night sky. No clouds blocked his sight, and the wind that flew over him was allmost as cold as the comfortable snow below him. With a sigh he leaned his head against the tree behind him and gazed up at the stars. Silently he cursed his bad luck during the last time.

All had worked out so well. That naive lass had believed each of his words - and why not, he had just told a single lie after all - and he had finally got enough of her trust to beginn making her doubt her feelings for that Moron. He had easily gained the trust of that foolish, self proclaimed 'Knights', was ready to infiltrate them and to crush them from the inside. But just as he was 'swearing' their stupid oath, fate decided to turn against him.

That sad excuse for a druid, Padrin, quickly approached him and Byrnolf. They had fought a 'horned woman' in Redmist. Byrnolf wanted to help them, and the Lord Cold thought it would have been a good opportunity to show his 'loyality'. They had entered the cellar, or better said, the caves under the cellar of the Redmist Inn and slayed some puny group of Tieflings.

That was the clear part. The part after this he did not really understand. Byrnolf was trying to find the master of the Tanar'ri brood, calling upon the power of Kelemvor to reveal him those with darkness in their hearts. And it had showed him. He could have sworn he had masked his aura well enough, and had no idea how he could detect him anyways. Perhaps one of the Tieflings had used dispelling magic against him. Who could tell that afterwards. What counted was that they found out who he was.

All his carefull planning, all this acting, all the listening to that stupid girls even more stupid babbling... for nothing. He had failed, and he did not even understand why. A smirk showed on his face. He should have killed them down there... that would have solved the problem. Even if someone had raised them, they would have forgotten it. But he was to weak. His connection to the divine was still not fully restored, and an attack would just have ended in his own death.

But that all would have been alright. He would survive it, and he would defeat each and every of them. But something else was worrying him.

Ravenna. His only remaining, his last friend in Cormyr. The only man he could still trust in this land that stood against him. They had talked yesterday, short before he left and met Byrnolf. They had talked about faith. He never asked his friend about his faith. The Seldarine...

They were foes to Auril, and Auril was foe to them. But that would not matter. Ravenna had been his friend since they met, despite knowing his faith all the time. But now... that woman, Febrien... a friend of him. She worshipped them either. And she had said what his friend perhaps not even had thought of. In the name of the Seldarine, he had to die. Jandor did not fear Febrien, though he had heard that she was powerfull. He could avoid her till he was strong enough to destroy her.

This time, his friend could not stay neutral as he usually prefered to. This time, the divine was part of this. His friend would have to chose. All his other friends and his gods on the one... and just him on the other side.
He had no doubt how he would decide. He lowered his head. Ilmen was dead... Sturm was dead... and his only remaining friend had to make a decision that would not go out for him.

Now he was alone.

Completely alone.

Slowly he raised and started to walk into the wood. Aimless. He was alone. After some time, he wrapped his cloak around him and stopped his aimless walking.

Maybe he was alone. Maybe he would have to fight alone. A grin played over his face.

But he would certainly not die alone...

[Thrym]

A bit nervous, he stepped through the mainhall. He was at home, back in the north... in the temple. Slowly he walked throught the long room, carved out of ice, breathtakingly beautiful and yet at the same time inspiring fear in those that were not either with hearts out of purest light.... or ice. The acolytes of the temple had gathered on the long walls and were chanting silently as he passed them, heading to the Lord Deepwinter and the altar with the statue of the goddess behind.

He arrived at the altar and kneeled down before his superior and the statue. "Are you ready, Jandor Oridar, Lord Cold of our almighty mistress, to leave the weak body you aquired after your downfall, are you ready to leave Dynar behind and become Jandor again?"

"Yes, Mylord." The highpriest nodded. "Let us begin then" Jandor raised and extended his arms. His eyes closed, knowing what would happen now. The Priest picked up the diamond Jandor had bought and lifted it up in front of the statue. Slowly he started to chant, each of his words channeling more energy into the gem. Two if the acolytes stepped towards Jandor hand placed an object in his right hand. He grapped after it. He knew what to do.

Listening to the chant of the high priest he waited for the part. Awfully slowly time passed. Then he heard it, the last part of the chant. Finally.

His hand rushed towards him, thrusting the dagger deep into his heart.

The priest started to chant again, this time another song, breaking up the gates of the temple. A cold wind blew inside, carrying a wave of snow into the room. The snow rushed towards the altar, whirled around it, ever closer and closer. Then it formed into a roughly humanoid shape. The Highpriest smashed the diamond towards the shape, ramming it into the left chest. "Rise again, Lord Cold!"

He opened his eyes. He was alive again. The Highpriest stood before him touching his chest over his heart. The two acolytes approached him again. Pulling his hand back, the highpriest spoke smiling: "It worked well, Brother. You are yourself again."

Jandor extended his arms, letting the acolytes pull the robe other them. He closed the front and nodded. "Your weapon and your armor are in your room, Brother. Do not waste further time here and return to Cormyr immediately. Your... little revenge number has costed you enough time. Begone"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

He opened the temple gates and stepped outside, watching his reflection in the ice of the door. How wonderfull it was to be himself again. How much he had hated it to see the face of that foolish peasant in the iceshards. Finally he saw himself again, his crystal-blue eyes and shoulderlong snow- white hair, his... something crashed into him.

In parts of a second he was battleready and tried to get whatever it was from him, pressing with all his strenght. "Get of from me, you..." His sentence was interrupted by a cold tongue , big as his head lisking over his face. He opened his eyes. It could not be. His eyes widened "St... St... Sturm!" A hearthy laugh came out of Jandors mouth. Sturm. For the first time for months he felt happy. "Let us return to Cormyr my friend... revenge awaits us, and eternal winter that country." Petting the gigantic wolf he raised and started his journey.

Southward.

Out of the dale.

To Cormyr.