Ashram(solo)

A fierce blizzard blew with winds that bit cold right to the bone. Richard stopped forcing his way through the snow to catch his breath, but the clouds of air he exhaled only contributed to the frost collecting in his beard. Even the cold air bit at his lungs with each breath. "I need to find shelter", he thought. "Wont last much longer with these dropping temperatures." In truth Richard thought he could cross the mountains from the north back to Leostonnia. Nature however did no cooperate.

Tugging on the reins of the horse following behind him, Richard pressed on. With the deep snows on the mountain path Richard did not want to risk the large black and white colored draft horse to break a leg in any holes hidden under the snow. He had won the animal by right of conquest as its barbarian Northman owner died fighting him.

When all hope seemed to fade he came across a high walled courtyard carved out of the very mountainside itself. Entering through the stone archway he could see a stable of sorts and not surprisingly carved out of stone. Leading the horse to it Richard tied the stallion off to a metal ring and took out his map. "Not on the map...", Richard said lowly. "Who the devil would live out here in the middle of nowhere.", with that he rolled up the map and put it back in the saddlebag.

"Well, at least we are out of the wind, who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth.", Richard said and patted the horse on the neck. "No offence of course." With a chuckle he took his sword scabbard from the place it was secured to on the horse harness and tied the belt around his waist. "Now lets go greet our host". Richard approached the large wooden door leading into the mountain side and pulled back the heavy iron knocker and gave two heavy thumps.

Resting a palm on the swords pommel Richard wanted to not appear threatening to however opened the door, but also on alert. With the metallic clicks and clacks of locks being turned the heavy old door cracked open and a old bald man in brown robes took a peak.

Richard pulled back the hood and the chainmail coif on his head to give the stranger a better view of his face. "I got caught in the blizzard and need shelter. Would you be so kind as to let me and my horse stay here until it blows over." Richard was expecting more hesitation and resistance but the monk garbed man just smiled and opened the door wide so he could come inside the stone halls.

"These halls are open to all", replied the robed man. Richard shook his body and snow fell off onto the floor. "What is this place?", Richard asked while looking at the well lit stone halls from the glowing light of braziers and torches. "This here be an ashram". Richard just shrugged his shoulders to indicate he had no clue what that was.

"A place for spiritual contemplation and enlightenment, we also have a library." With that the man beckoned for Richard to follow. Richard followed the man with each step of his boots echoing off the walls along with the clink of his chainmail. "I suppose the mountains are a good place for such things." Richard replied. "We have not had one of your kind here in a age." Richard did not reply right away as he was deciding if the old man meant travelers, or warriors. "Your eyes betray you."

"Oh, that." Richard said low and with disinterest. His dragon eyes often were the first thing anyone ever noticed. "My great grand da was a dragon. Níðhöggr. That was a long time ago. I am a human make no mistake." The host then replied, "I have read about him in a few scrolls in the library here. He was a warlord and covered in rocky growths on his limbs. They say the very bones of the earth trembled at the drakes steps." Finally he lead Richard to a burning fire pit with benches. "You just rest here and warm your bones."

Richard thanked him and took a seat. He removed the metal spaulder off his right shoulder and then the chest plate revealing the bear fur under it. The only thing that stopped the armor from giving him frostbite. Rubbing his hands together Richard let out a sigh of contentment as he began the slow process of driving out the deep ache of the cold that had sunk in.

(Not editing post as nobody will know I edited. So just posting add on)


"This place smells of old dragons", said Richard in the dragon tongue to himself. People was not a word in the serpent tongue and he was practicing the language he had learned in the frozen north with the only person he could, himself. But he was not lying. The monastery carved into the side of the mountain was inhabited by nothing but old people from what he had seen.

After warming up he went back outside and could see the light fading through the blizzard that did not relent. It seemed that he was stuck here for the time being and Richard was not eager to go walking blindly into the night in the middle of blizzard in the mountains. His dragon ancestors blood gave him eyes far better then a humans, but it was not THAT good. After taking off the tack on his horse Richard got settled in for the night.

With nothing better to do he went to go look over what this strange place had in the way of literature in its supposed library. It turned out to not be much outside of history and other old records. Richard was a practical man and he valued anything that could be of use. It was the only reason he had even bothered to learn the serpent tongue from the dragon shape shifter he had wintered with in the north.

Old texts while mostly worthless in his eyes could be worth his time if he found anything of interest, and it so happened he had found a few journals and scrolls that he found worth his time. Mostly things written by dragon half breeds a long time ago. While he was no half breed a lot of it still applied to him and as such, stirred his interest.

As he was alone in the library Richard read over the old texts aloud in the serpent tongue as to ensure he did not forget the language and keep it alive in his mind. Not that he cared about his dragon ancestors language, but out of the practicality of it. After all, Richard doubted he could kill and eat a rabbit that could speak. He liked to think dragons would probably be the same way. Who knows, perhaps it could save his life one day.

"I am plagued with parasites red like dots and wriggling." Richard said aloud to himself in the dragon tongue from a journal of a half breed a few centuries ago. Scratching at his own body and the red dots crawling in his beard and patches of skin he continued to read. "Oil is the key to killing the blood suckers that prey on any with dragons blood. For two hours oil must lay and wash off the dead bodies of parasites"

Lowering the ancient leather journal he scratched a bit and muttered in the common human tongue. "Sure wish I knew that a few years back." Resuming the reading he learned why he had such addicting love to the human cooking spice havia.

"Though havia powder smells and tastes like cinnamon it is as catnip for any of dragon blood bringing great surges of euphoria. To humans it is just a cooking herb for flavor."

At this point Richard had to put down the journal. He had a sudden craving for a lick of the very said powder he had stashed in his gear.