Sigvald's tale

The Party sits around a table at late night with some off duty sailors and the Lamrans, with regaling talk of the enemies they'd fought and the women they bedded. After quite a bit of stretched true stories from Gouzie and his sailing lot, and they asked Finn how they'd wound up in Ikuna lands, so far from home. Sigvald leans up from his half-asleep slouch on his bearded axe, and interjects in a low tone, "Have you heard of Al-Tawir?" A deafening silence falls over the group, upon mention of the Sleeper beneath the Sands, every man had his eyes on Sigvald.
"My boys and I were out scouing, West out of Onar pass. The day'd been normal but the wind had a terrible taste to it, as if it were made of stale ale. We'd decided to ride out, on the account of being low on provisions. We made it to the Runestone, a large spire with cryptic symbols carved into them. It's origin, none knew, but it served as an important landmark for any man, forager or scout who found himself lost. No matter the day, the wind whistled around the stone in a strange way. Today had been no different. Myself and Kunz, another ranger had set camp at the base of the Runestone, while Thormod and Jendir, the chief captain and wise man of the Onar scouts, set out to hunt early. A heavy snowfall blinds both me and Kunz, only able to see as far as the edge of the tents. While Kunz is preparing the fire, my foolish young self ventured out to look for Thormod and Jendir. A trek through the blizzard revealed to me a cave, and a voice calling out for help inside. Taking action was my only foolish thought. I bounded toward the cave, and the voice became sickening and distorted, as if a miasma had passed through the air. It shook me in my boots, as quickly as the deafening roar had it me, it was upon me. A disgusting scent met my nose, and a black serpentine creature with two scrawny arms and a mouth full of razor teeth and eyes of fire loomed over me. I raised my shield but to no avail, it was ripped from my arm like a child's toy, and I was thrown in the opposite direction. I struggled to stand and fight, the breath of the beast exhausted all the strength out of me. Bound by unseen hands, the beast loomed closer, its jaws clicked open and shut, as if it were biding time, deciding how to devour me. All of a sudden, an axe tore through its back, it let out a bloodcurdling screech and disappeared back into the cave. Thormod had killed it. Or so we thought. He helped me to my feet and helped me back to camp. We reported it to Jendir. Jendir told us what we had encountered, Guntheir. The hand of the dark one, who lured in the crazy brave with its voice mimicry, and devoured the soul of those it captured. "Deception is the greatest weapon of the dark one" he said. That stayed in the back of my mind for the rest of the night, and I stared at the point above my tent instead of sleep. A snapping twig shook me out of my staring trance and I jumped, immediately grabbing my blade. "Deception is his greatest weapon" I repeated to myself. I slowly creeped out of the tent, and a trail of black substance had trailed between the tents, and Jendir's was open. "Deception is his greatest weapon." I followed it. Down some more, to the base of the Runestone. The whistling of the wind around the stone was absent. The sickening black trail lead up the stone. Nothing permiated the night except for the trail in the snow. Jendir lay at the base of the stone, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he was shaking. As I rushed to his side, I saw two glowing yellow eyes level with mine. My body moved instinctively, ducking under the lunge of the beast, and I hacked its head off with two vicious hefting strikes. I stand covered in its blood, and the body lay there, long as three head of cattle one behind another. Thormod retrieved his Axe from its spine. We brought its head back, along with Jendir, who was never the same after he'd been in the Guntheir's grip. Kunz didn't leave his side after that. Thormod and myself were blamed for Jendir's condition, and after a long season of chief appointment, we were sent off with our kin, Finn my nephew, and Arnor, Thormod's brother." Sigvald's face reflected the flame of the lantern in front of him as he told his tale, and every man in the hold, save Thormod, sat with their eyes wide, fixated on Sigvald and Thormod. The night came and went, and each man reflected on Sigvald's story.