The Shrieking North

The Shrieking North by Neri Kazo
For many years now, I have traveled the length and breadth of Dayne, writing of my experiences and my adventures.
I have seen many wondrous places and many strange creatures in my travels, but one encounter remains forever fixed in my memory, though I wish it wasn’t.
I had taken up traveling with one of the Oathswom Lords, Helich Verx along with his company. We had just returned from the sea and were returning to Nor’hold.
As we were nearing Nor’hold, about a half a day out from Lor, when a great storm struck. It was a violent and terrible gale, one of the very worst I have seen in all my long years. The winds howled and the driving snow made us blind to the world.
Aleksin called a halt and we staggered from the road, our hands held over our faces to ward off the stinging pellets of ice. We huddled together in the shelter of a copse of pines trees. There was no hope of putting up our tents - the wind would tear them from our hands the moment we tried to unpack them.
They struck at the height of the storm. There were perhaps a dozen of them. It was difficult to say, as the blowing snow and howling wind overwhelmed and really disabled our senses.
They were mortal-sized, but appeared to move hunched over and swiftly. For garments, they wore leathers and furs of various animals. They were armed with daggers, clubs and swords of various kinds, no doubt scavenged from their previous victims.
They had no noses to speak of, only long slits for nostrils. Their ears were sharply pointed, suggesting perhaps a distant kinship with the elves of The Northern Wood or even High Orc tribes of The Dabu Greenlands. With their greenish skin with a white arcane mark hand across the face and lifeless black eyes, they seemed like something out of a nightmare.
Erixi saw them first, but too late to save herself. So loud was her death-cry, we heard it over the roaring winds. “Shriekers” as a sword plunged through her chest. That cry saved us all.
Alerted to the presence of our foes, the Oathsworn guard, as well as myself, drew our blades and formed a circle, facing outward. The Shriekers, or Utaran Goblin, were too few to surround us completely, and the Oathsworn fended off each attack. The attack itself felt as if they knew the storm was coming here and lay in wait for any who would travel this road. After a long battle, only three of the creatures had fallen. The rest fell back and did not come at us again, retreating and disapearing into the storm.
We too had lost. 18 of our own company, not quick enough to make it to the defensive circle before being discombobulated in the storm and falling. Not a single spirit amongst us slept that night or really any until we returned to the Capital. These creatures were truly nothing like I have ever seen. Their raw strength and agility is something to be marveled, as well as their ability to endure in such an unforgiving environment as The Frozen Basin.
The storm finally abated after a couple hours and we arrived in Nor’hold after about 2 days of weary traveling. I took up residence in Nor'hold and I found I am quite comfortable behind the towering stone walls of the city. Comfortable, at least until I go to sleep and visions of those awful creatures return to haunt my dreams.