Author: Nosferum; July, 2003
This story segment never actually stated it's purpose. The story below is how Nosferum let the guild know he was returning for one last night of play (He hadn't played in, probably, a year). This story spawned an in-game meeting and celebration, during which Nosferum "gave Lanadena The Tome". That was the first time The Tome made a presence since 1999. The full forum post can be found at this location, which may be of interest, because it was an open storyline. Anyone could add whatever they wanted.
Bandl's aging legs threatened to betray him as he dragged the curious baggage across the frozen tundra. Cursing his predicament, he found himself asking-- as he often does "Why don't I just retire to a life of farming?" It was too late, of course. Besides, he d be lonely without his brothers with him. Bound by tradition and the pride of a bull, Bandl tugged on the large pile of rags without pause, save for the occasional curse of impatience. The irony, however, could not be overlooked. It was less than two decades ago that he had dragged this very same sack across this very same frozen lake. This time, however, he wasn't afraid. He was angry.
It's not any great surprise that it is Bandl that finds himself dragging in corpses, lost belongings or other riff-raff from the permafrost. The other guards, on their watches, choose the way of the winter wolf, leaving the lost to remain lost on the frozen steppes. Nothing good ever comes from running into the wintry wild, carrying someone else's problem. Maybe it was Bandl's curiosity that caused him do this twenty years ago. Time, however, had sharpened his wits. This particular rubbish, however, he recognized and he couldn t believe no one else had thought to bring it in. It had been left in the snow for nearly a week by the other guards. Bandl, himself, on his first day patrolling the ravaged tundra eyed the pile of brown cloth and, like the other guards in the days before him, left it to be reclaimed by the winter. It was with a heavy sigh that he set out on this, the second night, to bring to safety that which was abandoned in the unsafe lands more than a week ago.
Few Halas guards fear the denizens of the Northlands. It's the cold that kills. It's the secrets best left lost that humans, in their hubris, dig up that bring death. He was even a bit ashamed to be doing this, despite his knowledge in previous years of the pile of bone and flesh he had in tow. This body, however, would not be buried. It still grunted when drug over the rocks that Bandl didn't attempt to avoid. With a heave, he slammed the baggage down against the foot of his guard post mountain slope and furiously reached in to separate skin from cloth in the disheveled, frozen mess.
Bandl picked away the snow, revealing the bluish face of the very man he knew he had all along. "WHY?!" he accused-- booming an echo through the Northlands. His quarry could not yet speak, though it was waking from an ice-cold sleep. Bandl was not all warrior. With decades behind him, he did dabble in the Shaman's arts, though he did so in secret. With but a word, his hands glowed blue and through spit and vitriol and curses he called for a bit of healing. Training in secret from his brothers did not make him the most elegant of healers.
Within moments, the frozen man twitched and reoriented in Bandl's great grip. He would not be free, however. Not one to repeat himself, the Northman continued to hold his new-found companion upright, waiting for the answer. It might have been an hour before he moved, doing so with only words. "C' ar son,... brathair a' Lear?"
Bandl could feel it was breathing within his hands. It was only a matter of time. With a sputter of blood and a great inhaling of icy wind, the bent figure let out a small cry. It wasn't pity that made Bandl wipe away the remaining frost from his quarry's face. Perhaps it was remnants of respect. He let it fall to the ground, revealing to anyone who might have been watching the old, dark, bald head of a man who once walked these lands as a friend and a brother to some. Resolved that he would not get his answer, he bound the man back in his would-be death shroud and dragged him away from the open tundra and back toward Halas -- back to Lanadena's care.