My father took me to Icewind Dale when I was 3 years old. He taught me everything I know. How to use a bow, how to skin a rabbit, how to follow hidden tracks in the forest. That bow is all I have left of him after the plague took him. Rest in peace, Pa.
He never told me much about his days as a campaigner in the south. He mostly told me about my mother, a fellow soldier. He told me about how they met in training, joined the same company, toured the southern kingdoms. He always gets up to the job they took for some duke. He would always get quiet after that. Wouldn’t tell me what happened next.
Someone new came to Icewind Dale. Weathered face. Older fellow. ’Bout the same age as Pa. He spoke a bit to the speaker. I didn’t have to eavesdrop to know it was about the moose. The white moose thats been terrorizing the forest. Attacking at random, either groups or lone men. Day or night, if there is such thing as day anymore. The few that make it back alive tremble at the thought of meeting the beast again. But i’ve seen it. I’ve watched it move, watched it look at the woods. It paces at random. Changes direction at random. It’s white fur is matted with blood. I don’t know if it knows what it’s doing.
The stranger knocked on my fathers door. Called himself “Sorville.” Said he was looking for a hunter to track down the white moose. Sounded like a fools errand, but something about this guy reminded me of Pa. Thought I’d take the job. He seemed like he know the way around his bow. Had an earnestness you don’t often see in the dale.
His expertise was proved in the first attack. Never used to be goblins in these woods, but they’re all over the place now. Caught us by surprise, and I dropped our torch. Pa’s bow came in hander. Apparently it was built by some elven fellow he knew in his past. Certainly it’s ability to shoot arcs of fire is a clue to it’s extraordinary construction. The fight was hard, but goblins fear light, and respect power. And Sorville had power. Pa’s hunting bow is a lacquered golden piece of art. It felt insignificant next to Sorville’s use of a regular bow. “Good hands make do with any tool.” Guess Pa was right. Sorville knew Pa, it turns out. Campaigned with him down in the south. Pa never talked about his friends. Never bothered to ask why.
We spent hours in those woods. Getting dark. Darker. Found a few regular moose, but the white moose has never liked being found. Doesn’t matter, the thing found us while we camped under a rock. I’m glad we were hiding. Never been so close for so long. The beast was giving off faint light, enough to see it’s face by. It had a human face. Not like any moose I’d ever seen. Surprised I hadn’t seen it before, but in reflection I only ever saw it facing away. No wonder people were so terrified. We thought they were exaggerating. Making up a false monster.
The moose didn’t see us. Trapsed further into the wood. Sorville followed it, and I followed Sorville.
It led us to some sort of stone ruin. I’ve been through every inch of the lonely wood and I had never seen them before. Still haven’t seen them since. I don’t know how we ended up there. The moose entered the ruin through a hole in the side. Now it moved with intelligence. Poise. Not mindless after all.
Sorville pushed his way past weathered statues to pursue. Dropped down into the hole. Followed the light around a corridor. The beast was staring into a mirror. A great oval mirror, taller than one of the huts back in town. The beast was smiling at itself. I wonder if that is all it saw.
Sorville got the drop on it. For a rugged man he can move with surprising stealth. The beast put up a good fight. A strong fight. I’m glad I never fought it alone. It got me with a good kick the jaw. I couldn’t get up after that. Damn thing almost took Sorville too. Breathed some kind of… curse on him. Sapped his strength. In the end, the beast, covered in arrows, made to flee. A cleverly placed bear trap ensnared it in the entrance. The beast took a long time to die. Longer than a moose. It was smiling the entire time.
Sorville lives in a hut in the forest now. Think he likes the peace and quiet. I visit him sometimes, bringing tales from the half-dwarf. Bottles of wine. He forages, hunts goblins, keeps a vigilant eye on the forest. It’s much safer now. Still, I feel that there’s something else in these woods. I never did find that ruin again, and the goblins have started acting in an organized manner. Gonna see if I can’t do anything about it. I think it’s what Sorville would do. Goblins can rally under a powerful banner sometimes. I don’t know what’s in the woods, but I’m sure it can’t be any worse than that moose.
I’m glad I got to learn more about my father. Never realized the kind of hero he was down south. I gave Sorville the bow. Better in his hands than mine. Besides, I’ve seen what you can do with a regular hunting bow.
You hear that Sorville? There’s another big shot hunter in town! I’ll catch up. Be better than my father was. Just you wait.